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evielmostdefinitely · 5 months

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scorned earth |young!coriolanus snow x capitol!reader|

prompt: the last stop on your honeymoon tour of the districts, leaves coriolanus to show you parts of his past, making new memories with you. based off this ask from the other day :)

contains: smut 18+. dark!possessive!coriolanus. mentions of corio's past. dom/sub dynamics. skinny dipping, semi-public sex. pinvsex. mean-ish!coriolanus.

“Where are you taking me?” You looked around at the tall trees, the sun peaking through the branches onto the moss covered ground. Your hand in Coriolanus’, fingers intertwined, letting him lead you through the thicket of trees.

“It’s a surprise, my love. I told you.” Coryo’s eyes were bright, daring with excitement. Turning back to look at you over his shoulder, the sun caught in his baby blues, making your heart skip. “You trust me, don’t you?”

You melted at his words, smiling softly. “Of course, I do.” You whispered, letting him tug you through the forest. “I-I’m just worried about snakes, or bears, or-”

“-I won’t let them hurt you.” Coryo smiled, squeezing your hand. The pistol resting on his hip offered some comfort to you. “That’s why I’m going first.”

You’d blame it on the warmth of the day, hot but breezy, as the reason you were so flustered at his words. The heat in your cheeks, tingling up your spine. District Twelve was the last stop on your tour, the last stop on your honeymoon. Coriolanus insisted on showing you around, to some of his favorite spots from his Peacekeeper days. After putting the town on a strict lockdown- you weren’t sure why he did it, but you didn't dare question it- he dragged you out here.

“This is…” You looked at the water, sparkling from sunlight, and the greenery all around it.

“Breathtaking isn’t it?” Coriolanus’ arms found your waist, chin tucking over your shoulder. The breeze fell between the two of you, fresh air, not smoggy or stuffy like the polluted city air of the Capitol.

“It is.” You nodded, hand sliding over his biceps, leaning back into his touch. “How’d you ever find this?”

Coriolanus paused for a moment, heart skipping a beat at the thought of her. He wouldn’t tell you about her, not now, at least, it was your honeymoon. “We used to come out here on our days off.” He said instead. It wasn’t a complete lie, he supposed.

“Stay in that cabin, sometimes, when it would rain.” Coriolanus pointed to the cabin, a little more worn than he remembered, a lot colder looking too.

You turned, smiling at the sight. “That’s… This is very nice.” You grinned, head tilting back to meet his gaze. You looked pretty like this, Coryo decided, under the bright District Twelve summer sun.

“Would you like to go swimming?” Coryo smiled, hand brushing over your hip, squeezing it gently.

“Swimming?” You giggled. “In what, Coryo? I didn’t pack any swimwear.”

“Do you think they have swimwear here?” Coriolanus scoffed lightly, shaking his head at you. “Just go in your undergarments.”

“Coryo.” You blushed, looking around like there might be others to overhear. It was so improper, you were surprised he even suggested it.

“Or just go without anything on.” Coryo rasped, his crotch grinding lightly into the fat of your ass. Your body jolted with electric heat, grabbing at his arms. “No one’s out here, darling. I won’t mind.” His breath was hot on the shell of your ear, leaving you shivering at the thought.

Your hands trembled lightly with excitement, pushing down the straps of your dress, gaze on Coriolanus. He grinned proudly as you stripped, your eyes on him so obediently- just as he trained you to be. You were bare, arms covering your most private parts, standing in front of him on the small dock.

Coriolanus followed, slinging off his slacks, his shirt, grinning at you with that familiar, wild look in his eyes. It made your heart flutter, his gaze animalistic, roaming all over your body.

“I’m going to throw you in.” Coriolanus growled playfully, though his eyes were primal.

“Don’t you dare, Coryo.” You pointed at him, walking back on the creaking dock. “Coriolanus Snow, I swear-”

Coryo lunged at you, laughing at how you shrilled, your scream bouncing off the trees, the mockingjays echoing it through the breeze. Your bare feet padding against the wood, ass jiggling with your run, taunting him. You skidded to a stop at the edge, whipping around to look over your shoulder. Coriolanus pacing towards you, arms reaching out for you, eyes narrowed with a primal sense that had you reaching your arms out in instinct.

“Coryo, no!” Your squealing pleas were cut short, his hands on your waist, slinging both your naked bodies into the lake water.

Cool water plunged around you, hands clawing at Coriolanus even under the murky water. You surfaced, a large gasp of a breath, hands hitting the rippling waters with a panicked fury. You could swim, sure, but not very well, especially not when you were thrown in unexpectedly.

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you.” Coriolanus hummed, hands pulling you into his wet chest, bobbling with you through the water. You crawled up his back, legs wrapping around his waist, hugging him tightly to you.

He could feel your heart beating on the back of his chest, your pebbled nipples from the cold water pressing to his back, making his cock lurch with lust.

“Don’t you dare let go of me.” You hissed, nails digging into his shoulder. “There’s no telling what’s in this water. I can’t even see the bottom.”

“Oh,” Coryo taunted, chin hooking over his shoulder to grin at you. “Might be a monster, hm? Might come up and bite you.” His fingers pinched the fat of your ass, you squealed in his ear, feet pushing up on his hips, dunking him slightly.

He sputtered, water, feet kicking steadily under the water to keep you both afloat, wiping the droplets out of his eyes. Your pouting face greeted him once his vision cleared, brows creased in a deep furrow. “That wasn’t funny.” You grumbled.

“Oh, don’t be pouty with me, darling. I was only teasing.” Coriolanus’ hands found your waist, pulling you around his body so you rested on his hips, legs still tight around him in a vice. “You know I wouldn’t let anything hurt you, petal.” He muttered, cupping your jaw gently.

It was a rare pet name, but by far your most beloved, which is why Coriolanus used it so sparingly. Only when he was especially in love, when he wanted you to know.

You ducked into his kiss, your own hands on the back of his head, pulling you closer and closer to him. His lips moving on yours, noses brushing, teeth gnashing in a positively sloppy makeout. It felt exhilarating to be doing this in public, showing such crude affection outdoors, even if no one else was around.

Coriolanus’ hand on your hip, squeezing gently, sliding under the water up your back to cup your breasts under the water. You giggled breathy into his kiss, legs tightening under the water. Coriolanus tipped you into the kiss, dunking you under the water accidentally.

You sputtered, coughed at the water invading your nose, glaring back at him. He grinned cheekily, squeezing the fat of your left ass cheek firmly under the water. “Maybe this isn’t the best idea.” He hummed. “Far easier in the bathtub, I’m finding out.”

You blushed, shoving his shoulder playfully. “So what then? On the banks? Like animals?”

Coriolanus’ eyes left your gaze, darkening at what he saw past you. You could see the change in them, that crossed over to something sinister and dark, it made your stomach flip with thrill, anticipation.

“No,” Coryo’s eyes met yours, lips curling in a sinister smile. “I have a better idea.”

“That’s it, that’s perfect, my love.” Coriolanus grunted, head tipping back into the hardwood of the floors.

The floorboards squeaked beneath you, with every rise and fall of your hips. Your hair was still damp, as was his, bodies still soft from the water that hadn’t been wiped away. His hands pawed at your breasts, squeezing them with every roll and rise, riding him in the small cabin.

His mind flooded with memories, memories of before, everytime he looked around. The dark day he didn’t want to remember, a dark time before you. Coriolanus felt guilty, thinking of her while you were on top of him- his wife. So he did what he could to keep his mind from wandering, pawing at your breasts, grabbing at the fat of your ass, but he swore- swore he could hear the mockingjays singing that same song over and over.

“Wait, just a- hold on, darling girl.” Coriolanus grunted, pressing on your hip to stop you.

“What?” You panted, chest rising and falling sharply. “What’s wrong?” You muttered, purely lust drunk, your eyes told him so.

Coryo smiled, cradling your jaw gently, pulling you to him. Your body folded over his, lips on his, kissing him passionately. Coriolanus flipped the two of you, rolling you lightly onto the wooden floor, the floorboards groaning at the shift. His hands cupped under your knees, pressing your thighs forward, letting you hook them over his shoulders while he bottomed out in you, smug at how your eyes rolled back.

“C-Coryo,” You whimpered at the sudden change of pace, his hips snapping and rolling into you sharply, cock spearing that spongy spot that had your eyes rolling back, mouth falling open dumbly.

Coriolanus’ pace didn’t stop, fucking you nearly barbarically, at a punishing pace. You hadn’t expected it, truthfully, he normally saved this type of sex for when you’d been bad, when you needed to get fucked like this. Maybe he needed it. Something about District Twelve had him off, but you didn’t pry.

“Look at me.” Coriolanus growled, hands pushing into your hips, fingertips curling so sharply you knew there would be bruises.

Your eyes fluttered open, glazed with ecstasy from every punctuating jab of his cock into you. “Who do you belong to?”

You were confused, mind dwindling away, thoughts following them. Coriolanus tapped your cheek lightly, hard enough to get your attention, eyes snapping obediently back to him. “Answer me.” Coryo repeated through gritted teeth, his pace not letting up, not once. “Who do you belong to?”

“Y-You.” You shuddered, body rolling with another wave of pleasure, thighs trembling around him.

“Say it again.” Coriolanus spat, reaching forwards, hand cupping your cheeks, squeezing them between his fingers so your lips puckered. “Who do you belong to?”

“You, Coryo, you. You- oh!- it’s only you. Only you.” You babbled, tears leaking out of the corners of your eyes as your orgasm consumed you. He didn’t stop, squeezing tighter around your cheeks.

“You’re all mine. Mine. You belong to me, you got that? Not anyone else.” Coriolanus growled, his thrusts faster now, leaving you no time to recover. You whimpered at the sensation, the sensitivity.

“You’re never leaving me, either. You got that?” Coryo snarled. Your eyes had glazed, looking at the wood ceiling above him, half heartedly pushing at his arm.

Coriolanus’ hand pulled your chin back to him, stilling suddenly, still deep inside of you. “Look at me.” He sneered. Your eyes fluttered to him. “You’re not leaving me, ever.” He held your gaze, his wild eyed one peering back at you.

“Say it.” Coryo demanded. You whimpered, his hips pressing further into you, filling you more- you didn’t even know he still could, you felt so full already. “Say it!’

The sheer possessiveness, his tone, a chilling edge that had you shuddering. “I-I’m not going anywhere.” You whispered, voice caught around the lump in your throat. “I’m not going anywhere, Coryo, staying with you.”

“Forever?” Coryo hated how needy he sounded, but he doubted you noticed, not with the way your lip was trembling, eyes glazed.

“Forever.” You repeated, squeezing his wrist lightly. “Forever with you. Only you.”

Coriolanus dropped himself over you, face buried in the crook of his neck to breathe in your sweat soaked scent, rutting into you like a mutt in heat until he was spilling, presseed deep inside of you, milking his load into you.

The walk back to the train was much slower this time. You clung to Coryo, legs wobbly and unsure, his arms wrapped around your back. It was silent, the chirping of the birds, the breeze floating between the leaves, your only sound.

Coryo left you later that night, tucked into the bed, pressing a kiss to your head. You didn’t pry as to where he was going, and he was grateful for that. You didn’t ask why he smelled of smoke when he came back, why he was just as ravenous as before, which he was even more thankful for.

As Coriolanus left you, meeting with the General over the Peacekeepers, leading them back through the thicket, he thought of her. Her smug grin, her in his mother’s shawl, how she’d just left it- left him. He thought he’d never recover after Lucy Gray. Then he met you. How you treasured every gift, only looked at him, craved him the way he did you.

You wore his mother’s ring with pride, and he knew she’d be pleased with you.

Which is why he had to kill all of his past before you.

Kill the woman who wrecked him, the girl who took his heart and shredded it, made it jagged for your hold.

And as the cabin burned, scorched under the starry night sky, Coriolanus was pleased knowing his last memories of the cabin were with you instead of her.

Knowing that part of him was ash like the wooden cabin was now, soot mixed with the soil of District Twelve.

Coriolanus returned back to you, holding you as close as he could in his arms, skin to skin, heartbeat to heartbeat. You were his, and he was yours. Now until forever.

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luxaofhesperides · 6 months

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Dancing in the rain ; requested by @wandixx!

He hadn’t been expecting the Signal to chase after him. It is, after all, well after midnight, and he had seen the vigilante out earlier during the day.

Maybe the Bats are understaffed tonight, he muses as he leaps over the rooftops, a wild grin on his face. Being on the other side of a chase is a lot of fun, he’s discovering. He can see why Selina enjoys it so much.

Though, it probably has to do more with who’s chasing her than it is the chase itself.

But Danny’s become a bit of an adrenaline junkie after a few years of being a hero, fighting ghosts and governments. He’s not a hero anymore, especially not in Gotham, but being Catwoman’s partner in crime is way more fun than being responsible for everyone’s safety.

It’s like he’s doing anything bad, either. Selina can steal whatever she wants; if they couldn’t protect things against her, then should they really have it? Danny doesn’t focus on jewelry or gems. No, he takes ghost artifacts or items contaminated with ectoplasm back to the realms where they won’t cause problems to any humans. There are enough ecto-contaminated people in this world, solely from Amity Park. Best not to let that number grow.

So here he is, leaping over rain-slicked rooftops and only using a little bit of flying to keep ahead, holding a cursed pocket watch that a ghost had requested he return to them, with the Signal chasing after him, disappearing into shadows and popping up unexpectedly.

“Stray! Get back here!” Signal yells, and Danny takes a moment to spin on his heel to face the vigilante to stick his tongue out at him, then backflips away.

“I didn’t even steal anything important!” he returns, tossing the pocketwatch in the air ahead, then jumps up to catch it and scales his way up to the roof of the next building.

“Seriously,” Signal says, suddenly in front of him. “Stop running and we can talk this out.”

“Woah!” Danny tries to get around him, trips over his own feet, and crashes into the Signal’s chest.

“Careful, there.” He looks up to see the Signal’s smile, and he absolutely can not be blamed for having his half dead heart skip a beat. He’s in the arms of a hero who’s smiling at him so sweetly, what’s a guy to do? “Ready to talk now?”

Danny goes intangible for a moment, smoothly sliding out of the Signa’s grip. “Nope,” he grins, starting up the chase once again.

The rain isn’t very strong, and the drops feel cool against his face as he runs, getting a little more air with each jump as he uses more of his flight to keep ahead. He can hear the Signal chasing after him again, heavy footsteps that start and stop unpredictably as he travels between shadows.

Just to be safe, Danny stashes the pocket watch inside his chest, leaving his hands free to grab onto the rough brick of the walls and scale them up, aiming to go higher and higher. Maybe if he finds a good building, he can dramatically fall off the edge and fly away invisibly.

“Got you!”

The Signal pops up out of the wall and grabs Danny, who yelps and tries to pull his arms away. The Signal is too strong, and his tight grip on Danny’s wrists is warm against the chill of the rain.

They stand there for a moment, just staring at each other as they try to catch their breath. And then, “Is that any way to treat a guy?” Danny jokes, trying one last time to pull his wrists free.

“It is when it’s you,” the Signal replies. “Man, you sure know how to run.”

“I’ll be sure to put that on my resume for my next heist.”

“Seriously, can we talk?”

Danny eyes him curiously. The other Bats mostly tried to take back whatever it is he’d stolen that night, occasionally trying to get information from him. None of them had outright asked to have a chat with him. The Signal at least has some manners, compared to the rest of him. There’s no harm in sticking around for one conversation.

It helps that the Signal is cute, especially when he had saved Danny a few weeks ago.

Sue him, he’s a bit soft on the Signal. Wouldn’t anyone be with their favorite hero?

“Alright,” Danny says, relaxing. “Go ahead. Talk.”

“Great! Okay, um.” The Signal bites his lip and Danny should really look away, but his eyes are fixed to his mouth. He doesn’t speak for a solid minute, during which Danny really begins to feel the chill of the rain. “Can I get less comments from the peanut gallery?” he says suddenly.

“What?” Danny laughs, confused.

The Signal sighs. “My comms are on. The others are being annoying. If they wanted to ask you questions, they should have caught you first.”

“Oh, protecting me from the big bad Bats? My hero,” Danny says sweetly, pretending to swoon. Except, the Signal follows his movements, releasing his wrists to catch him by the waist, holding him steady. Danny’s breath hitches, and from how close they are, he has no doubt that the Signal heard it. They freeze for a moment, then the Signal dips him like some fainting Victorian maiden.

“Well, I certainly wouldn’t mind sweeping you up in my arms.” The smirk on his face only lasts a moment before he grimace and says, “I shouldn’t have said that on open comms. Man, they’re annoying. It’s not my fault I know how to flirt.”

Danny…

Well. Danny short circuits for a moment, running the words over his mind again, then blushes so hard he’s sure there’s steam coming off his cheeks. “You’re flirting?” he squeaks. “With me?”

“Flirting,” a new voice confirms, making them both jump, stumbling against each other as Black Bat hops down onto their rooftop. “Both shy and silly. I’m better.”

“You can’t even ask out Spoiler,” the Signal retaliates.

“She can’t even WHAT?” Spoiler yells as she also vaults herself over the alley below to join them. “You want to ask me out?”

Though she doesn’t say anything, Danny can practically feel Black Bat’s glare through her mask. The Signal winces, then says, “Oops.”

“Man, you can keep yourself busy, clearly Sig doesn’t need backup,” Spoiler says. “I need to go on a date with Black Bat. The rest of you suckers are on your own!” And then she grabs Black Bat’s hand and grapples away.

There’s a beat of silence, then Danny and the Signal share a glance and start laughing.

“Well,” Danny says, “Good for them! Good for them.”

“They’re probably just going to Bat Burger.”

“And are you going to be treating me to a burger any time soon? I should be compensated for this conversation, you know.”

“Please, if I was taking you out on a date, it wouldn’t be to Bat Burger. I’d take you out dancing.”

It sounds like a date his dad would take his mom on. It sounds nice. Danny smiles and leans in closer to the Signal, taking hold of one of his hands. With the other, he puts Signal’s hand on his waist, then brings his own up to the Signal’s shoulder.

“Why not dance with me now?”

Danny leads them in a few clumsy turns of a waltz, silently thanking Sam for forcing him to take a few ballroom dance lessons with her. The Signal seems a little dazed, following his lead, and when he lightly squeezes Danny’s waist, he shivers.

Catwoman should be done with Batman soon. They had agreed to meet up at the newly opened Vintage Boutique in Diamond District, and he intends to beat her there.

Reluctantly, Danny pulls away from the Signal with one final spin, and hops up onto the edge of the roof. “If you can find me during the day,” he says, “Then I’ll dance with you again. See you around, Signal!”

And with that, Danny hops backwards off the roof, free-falling towards the ground before he lets gravity lose hold of him and slips into invisibility, flying up just as the Signal peers over the edge, searching for him.

Unable to help himself, Danny floats closer until he can give the Signal a quick kiss on the cheek, then flies off, grinning wildly.

He certainly can’t wait to see the Signal again.

Maybe if he hired a few guys to pretend to rough him up while Signal’s out patrolling…

Well, either way, this cat is already half dead so he can jump straight to satisfaction bringing him back. And, hopefully, back into Signal’s arms again when they won’t be interrupted by other Bats.

He’s already looking forward to it.

. . .

[send me a ghostlights prompt!]

#ghostlights #dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #stray!danny #first time writing stray danny but i love him :) i think selina can make him worse :)#duke really worked overtime just to have a chance to flirt w danny #he heard that stray and catwoman would be out that night and suited up immediately like. dont worry guys i got stray :) yall can go now :)#thank you for the prompt!!#prompt fill #my writing

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onlymingyus · 9 months

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Your Games Suck: Next Level

pairing; jeon wonwoo x choi seungcheol x f reader

genre; smut (minors dni)

warnings; unprotected sex, protected sex, dom!wonwoo, dom!seungcheol, sub!reader, fingering, oral (m & f receiving), hand on throat, breeding kink, creampie, cumplay, praise, degrading, petnames, degrading names, manhandling, scratching, pining down, a lot of tension between wonwoo and seungcheol, aftercare

w/c; 4k and some change

requested; no

a/n; i blame wonwoo and cheol for this one. -- i am scheduling this fic to drop at the time promised, any tags owed to my taglist will come later in the day once i have slept since my schedule is messed up from work. my apologies!

before continuing remember reblogs are incredibly important and please read how to support me here

“This is fucking stupid.”

“Restart it.”

Wonwoo laughs even as his lips brush over your throat and your moans carry through the room to tempt Seungcheol’s ears. He knew his friend was frustrated, but that was the point of the game. Could Seungcheol make it through a single round of the game without cursing?

Glancing over his shoulder, Seungcheol groans to the sight of your back arched off the bed. You were beautiful and he wanted nothing more than to throw the controller in his hand onto the desk and bury his cock into you. Instead, he was clenching the plastic and metal in his hand so hard it was popping under the pressure.

“Ah…fuck you feel so good.” Wonwoo groans the words as he rolls his hips towards yours. You were clenching around him deliciously. He knew you were close, but he wouldn’t let you cum too quickly. “Cheol…if you break my things I won’t let you play with Y/N.”

Muttering under his breath, Seungcheol loosens his grip on the controller only to feel it vibrate in his hands and to see his character die in the game.

“Oh, what the fuck! This isn’t fair.”

Wonwoo raises a brow, sliding his arm under your back to lift you toward him as he glances at the man sitting at his desk. He knew that Seungcheol knew the rules so he just watched as the man pressed restart with a pout on his face. Wonwoo couldn’t help but grin situating you into his lap, your knees on either side of his strong but slender thighs.

“Come on baby, give him a pep talk. At this point, the poor man is going to be running around the same area while I make you cum to the point of exhaustion and then he won’t get to fuck you because you won’t be able to stay awake.”

Heat spreads across your cheeks at Wonwoo’s words, but you knew he wasn’t joking. Not with that dark look in his eyes and with the way his hips were pistoning into you like a man on a mission. You knew you were leaking obscenely over his cock and his thighs, but it only served to make him work harder.

“Cheollie…oh god! I need you to win the game. I want your cock too. Don’t you want my pussy around your cock? Haven’t you missed me? Just be a good boy and don’t curse.”

The sound of an exasperated breath escapes Seungcheol’s lips at your words. The man shakes his head in disbelief at how filthy your little mouth could be and he finds himself wanting to stuff it full of his cock or fingers instantly.

“You have no idea how fu—freaking distracting you are right now Y/N. This game is already a…it’s hard, but I also have to listen to your slutty little mouth running and moaning behind me and there isn’t a thing I can do about it.”

Wonwoo smirks when you smile at Seungcheol’s words and how he manages to skip around the words that would get him sent back to the beginning of the level once again. A sharp slap to your ass draws your attention back to your boyfriend who lifts his brows at you, his bottom lip caught in his teeth between groaning breaths.

“I’m sorry, Seungcheol. I just can’t be quiet. Not when Wonwoo’s so deep inside of me and when I know that you are so hard. I can’t help but want you both inside of me. Try harder for me? I need you to fuck me. I might cry if you don’t.”

Laughing, Seungcheol lifts his hand from the controller briefly to brush his hair back as he bites back the urge to curse. He was now further in the game than he had been all night so maybe your little pep talk was actually working. Either way, he wanted to give you exactly what you wanted while also teaching you just who he was.

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head, baby. I’ll make sure you cry, how does that sound? Now let me finish this game so I can show your boyfriend a thing or two, huh?”

When you giggle, amused with Seungcheol’s answer, Wonwoo’s hand meets your ass once again causing you to moan his name as you clench around him tightly.

“So much talk and not enough playing. Mm, she’s gonna cum, Cheol. You’re gonna miss the first one. What a damn shame, all because you can’t restrain your mouth.”

With his thumb pressed against your clit, Wonwoo keeps his eyes on your face as he watches you fall apart on his cock for the first time that night. Seungcheol’s groan fills the room, but instead of the sound of a pleasured groan, it is an annoyed one as he listens to your whining moans. Slowing his thrusts, Wonwoo lets his fingers trail along your thighs. A smirk on his face, eyes locked on yours, your boyfriend lets you roll your hips over him to ride out your high.

“Such a good fucking girl.”

Lifting a hand to his face, Wonwoo pushes sweat from his brow before looking over at Seungcheol. The man’s shoulders tense, his eyes locked on the screen as he tries desperately to keep his attention on the task at hand. Even from where he was Wonwoo could see how far Seungcheol was in the game. He had played it so many times he knew the map by heart and with you still clenching around him, he knew you were desperate for another orgasm.

“Watch that building Cheol. You’ll get hit and sent back.”

Surprised by his friend’s merciful tip, Seungcheol almost misses the gunmen hiding in the building but is able to dodge the shot letting out a sigh under his breath. You watch under lowered lids as the man bites at his plush lips trying to keep any forbidden words from slipping between them.

“Oh god…that’s so good. Wonwoo, he’s getting so far. I need more, go harder?”

Leaning his head forward, Seungcheol laughs in disbelief at what he is hearing and missing. Forcing himself to keep his eyes forward, just a growl of frustration slipping from his bitten lips. When Seungcheol finally drops the controller onto the desk with a loud thud, the screen proudly displays the level complete.

Wonwoo can only laugh, his hand resting next to your head as he thrusts into you hard and deep like you had asked. His eyes meet Seungcheol’s as the man swivels the chair around to take in the scene in front of him.

“I did it. I finished it.”

Nodding, Wonwoo smirks at his friend, lifting his hand to brush your hair from your eyes as he leans you back on the bed so you can look at Seungcheol.

“And now you want your prize, Cheollie?”

Scoffing, Seungcheol nods before moving to stand from his chair. You can’t help the way your eyes fall on the obvious bulge in the front of his sweatpants that causes your mouth to water and for you to clench around Wonwoo.

“I think I deserve it. You have no fucking idea how hard that was. All that moaning and whining behind my back. You like having cock inside you that much, little whore?”

Watching the man, you arch your back letting out a moan when Wonwoo’s teeth graze over your soft skin near your nipple. Your boyfriend’s low chuckle draws your attention back to him only for him to tilt your head back towards Seungcheol so you can watch the man undress.

“Don’t be rude, Princess. He earned this, didn’t he? You’ve whined about wanting him back in our bed.”

Seungcheol smirks at Wonwoo’s words, his hands making quick work of his shirt letting your eyes drink in the sight before you. Whining Seungcheol’s name, you cling to the sheet under you causing the fabric to strain under your fingertips. You knew the man was teasing you just as much as you knew your boyfriend was enjoying the way your pussy was clenching around his cock.

“What is it, Y/N? Am I not moving fast enough for you? I had to sit at that desk for almost an hour listening to Wonwoo’s fingers fucking you and then his dick. Do you realize how wet you get and how loud it is? Do you even know how to muffle your moans?”

Shaking your head no, you feel your cheeks heat up. Wonwoo smiles against your breasts before leaning to sit up, his hands sliding along your thighs. The man’s eyes fall between your legs to where his cock slowly enters you again and again.

“Would you want her to be quiet? If she had been, your dumbass would still be dodging headshots.”

Seungcheol rolls his eyes, his thumbs pushing at his sweatpants. Grumbling under his breath, he steps forward letting his pants fall to the floor when his eyes meet yours, and his ego soars. Seungcheol can’t help but to smirk at how your mouth is watering over the sight of his cock. Tilting his head, he lifts his brow before stepping closer to the bed moving to rest his knee on the mattress, keeping just out of reach of you.

“What’s that look for, baby? You like what you see that much? You already have a cock inside you and you are looking at me like I’m something to eat. You want something in that cute little mouth?”

Reaching out, Seungcheol’s lips fall open at your soft gasp as his thumb brushes against your lips. The feeling of your warm tongue presses to the pad of his finger and the man’s mind spins with how much he wants you.

“Wonwoo…help me slide her back or I’ll pull her off your dick.”

Rolling his eyes, Wonwoo bites back his annoyance with Seungcheol choosing to give in to his request instead. You smile at your boyfriend as his hands lift at your hips and Seungcheol’s wrap under your arms so that the men can move you towards the end of the bed.

“You could have just asked me to move.”

Seungcheol laughs, his fingers brushing over your head before you feel his fingers tighten against your scalp causing you to whine into a moan. Wonwoo narrows his eyes until he watches your mouth fall open in pleasure, the other man leaning down to speak against your lips.

“What’s the fun in that? When you have two men here who’d happily move you all over this house to fuck you? Do me a favor and open that mouth. Stick out your tongue.”

Watching you follow Seungcheol’s requests, Wonwoo digs his fingers into your thighs quickening his thrusts, beginning to feel that sense of possessiveness rush over him like it had in the past when he had shared you. It wasn’t that he couldn’t do this, it wasn’t that he didn’t want to, or that he didn’t enjoy it. The point was that it brought out a different side of Wonwoo, it made him want to claim you even more.

“You remember the rules, Cheol?”

Waving his hand at Wonwoo, Seungcheol dismisses his friend in place of watching your tongue slip from your mouth. A smirk spreads across his face, Seungcheol groans, his hand wrapping around his shaft so that he can guide his cock to your waiting mouth.

“Fuck, good girl. You look so pretty like this. Getting fucked and still wanting my cock down your throat.”

You can’t help but whine at Seungcheol’s words and the weight of his cock on your tongue. Your eyes locked on him, you lean forward to take his head into your mouth, relishing the sound of his groan when warmth envelopes him and you hollow your cheeks.

Fingers once again tighten in your hair, nails sliding against your scalp as Seungcheol leans his head back to close his eyes. The feeling of your mouth was almost as good as being between your thighs and he was going to commit it to memory.

Thrusting into you hard enough to send you towards Seungcheol, Wonwoo groans your name before pulling from you completely, causing you to whine around Seungcheol. With a sharp slap to your thigh, Wonwoo then leans down to press a kiss to your warm skin as his cock throbs at the loss of your warm walls around him. He just couldn’t finish first, not when Seungcheol was in the room, he needed to be the last person you were with.

“Take it all, Princess. There you go…all the way to your throat. Perfect.”

The moment the tip of Seungcheol’s cock hits the back of your throat and you gag around the man you have to pull back not only to breathe but because of the feeling of Wonwoo’s mouth between your legs. His lips wrap around your clit and with the same intensity you had been using to go down on Seungcheol, your boyfriend sucks at the sensitive bundle of nerves causing you to tighten your thighs around his head.

“Holy shit! Calm down, Y/N. I can’t cum in your mouth and I don’t want to. Fuck…keep your damn hips down. Can’t you see that Wonwoo is working hard for you? Don’t run away from him.”

The two men caused your head to spin. One minute they were arguing, biting at each other’s throats over nonsense and the next they were working together to drive you crazy. Sliding his hand along the center of your stomach, Seungcheol works his fingers between your legs using two of them to spread your folds for Wonwoo’s tongue. A smirk spreads across his features at your reaction, the way your back arches before he pushes you back down.

“You gonna cum on his tongue like a good little slut? Be a good girl for your boyfriend. He’s being generous tonight. Give him one more before I fuck you so hard you can’t walk tomorrow.”

Nudging his nose against Seungcheol’s hand, Wonwoo groans against your folds before moving to wrap his arm around your thigh pulling you in closer to his mouth. You loved anytime that Wonwoo would eat you out but there was something different about tonight. There was something about how he seemed to be trying to prove a point with how quickly he could push you over the edge by knowing every inch of you.

“Oh my god…Wonwoo!”

Your fingers slide into the man’s hair, tightening harshly when you cum like both of the men had been urging you to do. Wonwoo smiles against your soft skin taking turns between licking you clean of the cum beginning to seep from your entrance to placing kisses on your swollen folds and clit.

“That’s my girl.”

Your cheeks burn at Wonwoo’s muffled words, your fingers gliding through his hair once again before the man’s gaze meets yours from between his legs. A glint of mischief in his eyes before he leans to nip at your thigh causing you to kick your legs playfully when he moves from between them.

“Cheol…need you now. I feel empty. You made promises.”

The man at your side can only laugh at your words and how you whine them on panting breaths. He loved to hear you beg for him but he wasn’t in the mood to deny you tonight, not when he had been waiting for so long to be inside you.

Sliding from the bed, Seungcheol can feel your eyes on him as he stops only to pick up the condom that Wonwoo had laid out for him. The same smirk that had been playing at his lips all night causes his lips to pull up to one side even as he holds the foil square between his teeth and rips it open.

You can’t seem to help how antsy you are in anticipation watching Seungcheol roll the condom over his thick cock. His eyes once again find you as he moves to take Wonwoo’s place. Warm, skillful hands slide over your sides to your legs as Seungcheol listens to your breaths become moans.

Wonwoo’s brows furrow, his cock resting back on his stomach as he settles into the chair beside the bed. Running his hand over his face, Wonwoo has a mental fight with himself on how long he will stay seated. How long he will be able to just sit there and watch his best friend touch you like that. It isn’t until you gasp out Seungcheol’s name, the older man’s hands pushing your legs towards your chest, his arms moving to pin yours at your side that Wonwoo makes another sound.

“Dammit, Cheol, be careful with her.”

Seungcheol smirks against your cheek, the feeling of your warm breath brushing against his face as he feels the heat of your pussy against his cock resting against your folds. Lifting his hips, the man glances towards Wonwoo with a questioning look before reaching between your bodies to line himself up with you and sinking into you slowly and deeply.

“I’m not doing anything she doesn’t want. You know your safe words don’t you, baby? Do you want me to treat you soft and gentle? Or…do you want me to keep my promise and wreck you?”

Tears run from the corners of your eyes as you whisper your answer to Seungcheol causing Wonwoo to curse under his breath. He already knew the answer but it was driving him crazy. He knew better than anyone how much you enjoyed Seungcheol treating you like this, he knew that you liked it when he treated you rough. There was a time and a place for gentle lovemaking and it wasn’t tonight.

“Please, Cheol…don’t stop. Feels so good, you’re so deep.”

Seungcheol chuckles into a groan. Your walls closing around him, the man nips at your lips before capturing them in a kiss for the first time that night swallowing your moan for himself. Wonwoo can only watch feeling as if he was tied to the chair, his cock leaking heavily against his abs.

“That’s right I am, Y/N. You like me deep? Hmm? Fuck, you are so tight. Wanna fill this pussy up with my cum, you’d want that, wouldn’t you? Leave it all dirty for you? Wonwoo would clean it up for you, wouldn’t you Wonwoo?”

Fingers digging into the chair, Wonwoo bites at his lips hearing you moan that you want it. He knew you were lost in the moment and he also knew there was no way, short of Seungcheol taking off the condom, that he could cum inside of you. This was a power trip and one that Seungcheol enjoyed far too much when it came to fucking you.

“You are fucking pushing your luck, Cheol. You’ll never do that to her.”

Seungcheol laughs, his lips sliding along your neck as he feels your thighs trembling against his chest under him. He could tell you were close, but so was he. Groaning out your name, Seungcheol runs his tongue along your neck to your ear whispering against your ear loud enough for Wonwoo to just barely hear.

“Never say never, right little whore?”

Scratching at his arms, you gasp out a moan loudly as your orgasm rips through you when Seungcheol’s cock hits you just right. Toes pointed, you find it hard to breathe, your vision clouded by tears from how intense the sensation is when the man burying his cock into you doesn’t slow down. Instead, Seungcheol chases his own high that quickly follows yours. With a loud groan, Seungcheol buries his face back against your neck as his cum fills the condom instead of you.

His hips coming to a stop, Seungcheol pants against your skin before leaning back to look down at you in wonder. Lifting his hand, the man rests it against your throat before running his fingers along your jaw and leaning down to kiss you deeply as he keeps his body connected to yours.

Swallowing hard, Wonwoo tilts his head. His own breath was unsteady from watching you and Seungcheol come undone together. He allows you both a few moments of silence until it becomes too much to handle and the sound of the chair under him sliding across the floor draws both yours and Seungcheol’s attention.

Lips pull up in a smile against your own before Seungcheol pulls away. A soft whimper escapes your lips to the feeling of the man sliding from you leaving you once again empty. Licking his lips, Seungcheol glances at Wonwoo unsure of what his reaction would be. He isn’t completely surprised when he meets an unamused gaze.

“Princess, did you have fun with Cheol?”

Nodding, you lift your own hand to your face pushing your hair from your eyes as Seungcheol helps you lower your legs. The man then slides from the bed completely not wanting to piss off Wonwoo any more than he already had.

“Mm, I had fun too, baby. Maybe we can do it again soon.”

Wonwoo purses his lips glancing back at Seungcheol who had already taken care of his condom.

“Soon" is a relative term. Do you still want me, Princess?”

Looking up at Wonwoo as if he had asked you the dumbest question possible, you watch the man’s lips turn up in a smile when you reach for him. Seungcheol’s brows lift as his friend moves back onto the bed without first telling him to leave.

“Did you want me to…”

“Sit the fuck down and watch, Cheol.”

With his brow lifting, Seungcheol clears his throat before doing as Wonwoo wants. His hands find the arms of the chair, similar to how Wonwoo had when he had been sitting before, but it felt different for Seungcheol.

“You see…” Wonwoo grins looking down at you, his fingernails running along your thigh to pull your leg up towards his hip allowing you to do the same on the other side as he pushes into you with one slow thrust. “Where you can talk shit and say how much you want to fill her up…I can do it.”

A breath escapes Seungcheol’s lips and as much as you want to look over to the man, the feeling of Wonwoo’s cock pushing against your cervix keeps you where you are. Your lips fall open in a moan and much like Seungcheol had done, Wonwoo leans to kiss you collecting the moan for himself. Teeth nip at your lips leaving them feeling swollen and bitten as Wonwoo’s cock fills you deeply and completely with each skillful, knowing thrust.

“That’s what you want isn’t it, Y/N? Cum dripping out of you? You wanna let Seungcheol see what he can do? Let him learn his fucking place?”

When you nod, Seungcheol lifts his hand to his lips pushing at them as his cock throbs against his thigh once again hard. He knew he should be pissed off that Wonwoo was talking so much shit but instead, he was fascinated by it all.

“Please, Wonwoo…I need it.”

Wonwoo pouts in faux concern at the whine in your tone as you beg for his cum. He was close and he was going to give you exactly what you wanted. Nodding, your boyfriend nips at your lips once again whispering how much he loves you against them as the coil that had been winding inside of him snaps. You feel his warm cum spilling into you only to be pushed out with each deep thrust.

Seungcheol can only groan at the sight, his breath getting caught in his throat. Even if it wasn’t his cum dripping out of your pussy it was still the most beautiful thing he had seen all night. He could just imagine pushing it back into you. As if he could sense what his friend wanted, Wonwoo slips from you only to reach between your legs. Two fingers brush between your swollen folds to find your dripping entrance. Your loud moans once again fill the room as Wonwoo fucks his cum back into you with his fingers making sure he feels your cum running down his wrist along with his own before he stops.

“Fuck, perfect.”

Whispered words tickle your ear as Wonwoo slides his fingers from you. His lips pepper your neck and shoulder until you feel the bed shift as the man slides from it completely. The feeling of Seungcheol’s plush lips finds your cheek along with the warmth of his chuckle as he whispers for you to get some rest your eyes close when both men leave you in the room alone. It isn’t until Wonwoo’s hands run along your hips and his deep voice mutters against your ear sometime later that you whine in protest causing him to laugh.

“You’ve slept long enough. You need to take a shower and eat something. I should have made you get up right afterwards but you were dead to the world.”

Muttering against the bed, you cause a laugh to escape Wonwoo as he pulls you up from the comforter into his arms with a questioning sound for you to speak again.

“Said, where is Seungcheol?”

Gentle fingers brush against your side as Wonwoo helps you slide off the bed and towards the bathroom. His lips meet your neck with a sigh at your question.

“He went home. He needed to rest too. You are a lot of work, you know that?”

Pushing at his shoulder, you can’t hide your smile. Wonwoo walks you into the warm shower letting you lean against him as he helps you wash the night from your skin.

“I liked it.”

The man nods, a smile on his lips feeling you nuzzle your face against his neck. It was becoming a lot easier to share when he was the one who got the moments like this at the end.

“Mm, I know. I liked it too. He’s gotta work on his damn mouth first. Can’t have that around my, Princess.”

Wrinkling your nose, you laugh at how Wonwoo phrases his comment, turning in his arms to rest your forearms on his shoulders as you rest between his knees. The man’s body leaning against the shower wall, the water running down your back and legs like rain.

“Seems like someone needs to work on yours.”

Wonwoo grins, his lips pressing against your soft and sweet.

“Mmm, you gonna help me with that?”

Laughing, you brush your fingers through the wet hair at the nape of his neck as his fingers trail along your lower back.

“It’s the least I can do.”

#wonwoo smut #seungcheol smut #seventeen smut #svthub #scoups smut #svt smut #wonwoo x reader #seungcheol x reader #seventeen x reader #scoups x reader #svt x reader

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p1utofairy · 7 months

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PAC: “are you down to be a distraction, baby?” 🐅🖤🪄🌟

• how will your person approach you?

disclaimer ✩: 18+ mature themes. take what resonates, leave what doesn't. i’ve had trouble uploading this ugh it wasn’t coming out how i wanted but here we go <3 feels like it’s been forever 🥲 enjoy!

pile 1 ↓

“could you blame me for needing you? you’re the reason i got a weakness, oh, no you drive me crazy, still that's my baby. can’t get enough of you. baby, it's somethin' that you do.”

hiii pile 1! i'm immediately hearing that your person is enamored by you. they love the way you walk, the way you smile, the way you talk, the way you smell…quite literally everything. i see them staring at you a lot, it might not be obvious at first but they’re gonna try to feel you out/see if your receptive to their vibe. they’re like a cat lurking in the shadows i’m hearing. more than likely, you won’t even be focused on getting into a relationship or actively looking for a partner before they pop up on your radar; your person will just come to you. i see them coming up to you in a slightly crowded or busy environment and saying something sly but it doesn’t come out the way they intended lol they might stutter over their words and then kick themselves over it later. awww it’s cute, you get them flustered and nervous. you may not think that you’re intimidating (actually i’m picking up that some of you might be a bit reserved/quiet) but your presence shakes them to the core. it’s like all their calmness goes out the window when they’re face to face with you. you get their heart racing, palms sweaty and mind wandering but they’ll try to put on their brave face and act like they’re not having a whole meltdown inside. LMFAOOOOO they won’t even know what to do with themselves, you’ve got them down bad. i just heard “i’ve fallen and i can’t get up!” lol i think this is what’s gonna get the ball rolling on this new beginning with them; your humor. even if they don’t have the smoothest delivery, you won’t hold it against them you’ll just keep the conversation going and vibe with them. they’ll love this about you…how non-judgmental you are. they can be themselves around you 🥹 and as you two get more comfortable around each other, you’ll both be able to open up and talk about everything under the sun. awww so cute pile 1!

pile 2 ↓

“i'll be your groupie, baby. ‘cause you are my superstar. i’m your number one fan, give me your autograph. sign it right here on my heart.”

pile 2…when i say your person’s eyes/eye contact is gonna make your knees BUCKLE 😮‍💨 whew! my goodness, you’ll be squeezing your thighs together lol. this person is very forward and blunt, it might catch you off guard cause you wouldn't think that when you first see them. i feel like they’re very calm and collected on the outside but inside of them is a flame waiting to be sparked…and you’re the match. they'll approach you in a calculated and meticulous way i’m hearing, they have it all planned out. they might even make a cute gesture/treat you to something that will make you go “awww” internally. i feel like your body will be very responsive to them…like when you see them you might freeze and panic lol they'll think it’s cute. conversing with them is going to be so easy, you'll be able to tell that they're soaking up every word that you're saying. this is hottttt pile 2. when they first lay their eyes on you, they’ll just know they have to have you. you make their heart nearly skip a beat. some of you make look young for your age/have a baby face cause when you’re talking to them, they’ll be thinking about how cute you are. even the way you speak makes them go crazy 😩 just know that your first interaction with them will be living in their mind rent-free lol.

pile 3 ↓

“you make the confusion go all away from this cold and messed up world. i am in love with you, you set me free! i can't do this thing called life without you here with me.”

pile 3 i gotta start by saying you and your person are absolutely adorkable. lmaooo that was so corny but i feel like you two will be very silly with each other from day 1. you both share some similar interests — possibly watch the same shows/like the same music…something of that nature and that’s how your person is going to shoot their shot. shot clock by ella mai just came to mind, “twenty-four seconds, yeah, you better not stop. you got twenty-four seconds, can you beat the shot clock?” lmfao they might feel like the pressure is on with you. you won’t necessarily be pressuring them, but they’ll feel like if they don’t make their move now someone else might swoop in and grab your attention. they don’t wanna waste your time or time in general, and trust me when i say that they’re gonna put a lot of effort into getting your attention and keeping you entertained. you and/or your person may have some gemini placements. you'll think that they're very cute and sweet <3 they have little quirks about them that you'll pick up on and think to yourself “awww i love them 🥹” very much peter parker vibes like yes peter might be a bit clumsy, awkward and quirky but he's an absolute sweetheart (and heartthrob) so you'll really love spending time with this person pile 3.

#pick a card #pac #love reading #pac reading #pick a pile #intuitive reading #tarot reading #tarot #energy reading #love pac #pick a picture #pick a card reading #adriana lima #irina shayk #monica bellucci #p1utofairy

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onlyswan · 1 year

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summary: in which jungkook can sleep without you, but he’d rather not to.

> fluff, suggestive, they’re so in love it hurts typa angst / wc: 2.4k

> warnings: jungkook is hard and tipsy and sleepy and needy for love and oc is ready to risk it all, making out, grinding, allusion to s/x

note: just a lil sumsum to indulge in the painful blues and sappiness i’ve been having lately <3 you can blame this one to my hormones <3 reblogs and feedbacks are always appreciated :]

—

you almost trip on your own feet, sputtering out a string of whispered, panicked curses as you stumble inside the dark apartment. jungkook’s beloved galaxy projector lamp illuminates the space you also call your own, and although you adore it as much as him, you wish he didn’t turn off the light by the door in favor of it.

“oh, jungkook.” you murmur softly, dropping your bag as a careless heap on the floor as you kneel beside his vessel in slumber on the couch. he fell asleep on his stomach, side of his face smushed against the outstretched arm he’s using as a pillow. you pry off the remote control from the confines of his left hand, turning off the television before setting it down on the center table.

the distinct scent of fabric softener permeates the air— unmistakably kindled by your boyfriend’s affinity for scented candles. the soothing crackles of the candle wick burning on the side table contests with jungkook’s snoring, and you can’t say this is the first time you’re listening to this unique harmony.

you tenderly caress his hair, moving down to his beautiful face, and the pad of your thumb brushes over the apple of his cheek. and as your watery eyes take its sweet time adoring his godly allure, you decide to worry about how you would bring him to bed later. he just looks so peaceful like this, and you do not have the heart to wake him up.

you plant a loving kiss on his forehead before you stand on your feet, picking up the bag you left on the floor, and you jolt in surprise when a hand seizes your wrist.

jungkook utters your name, hushed and slurred that you almost don’t recognize the word.

“is it you? you’re home?” he croaks out, blinking his eyes to adjust from pitch black to his current surroundings. “what time is it?”

“four in the morning,” you sit down beside his stomach, whispering to him quietly as if there was anybody else in the room you could possibly wake up. “i didn’t drink. at all. not even a drop. i lost in rock-paper-scissors and ended up being the designated driver. for the second time in a row! i’m cursed!”

he slowly stretches out his lethargic limbs as he shifts to lie down on his side, chuckling at the sound of your grouchy tone as you laid out the story before he could even ask how your night out went.

“my poor baby- would’ve helped you but i needed to be taken care of, too.”

“made it home safe, so it’s fine.” you smile as you give his cheek little pats, and he catches your hand in his to press kisses to your knuckles. “go back to sleep. i still need to go wash up.”

“my goodnight kiss.” he puckers up his lips in a doll-like pout, urgently demanding for affection before you can leave.

you lean down to grant his request, and he guides your face in his warm hands to connect his pillowy lips with yours. you instinctively hold on to his forearms so you won’t collapse on top of him, heart skipping multiple beats as you find yourself lost in the feeling of your lover relishing in the intimacy of having no distance between you. a second feels like a minute, a minute- an hour.

the kiss breaks, but he still keeps you close so that his nose lightly brushes against yours. “jelly? you smell like jelly… i like it.”

“now, you do, too.” you’re the one to completely pull away, wiping away the boysenberry gloss smeared on his silken lips using your thumb. its saccharine scent replaces the hint of beer that lingered around him. “go to bed, my love.”

“nuh-uh. i’m already too comfy here.” he protests weakly, curling up into fetal position and burying his face into the cushion of the couch.

“okay, okay. suit yourself.” you roll your eyes, grabbing the edge of the blanket pooled below his feet and draping it over him until it reaches his shoulder. his heart flutters at the thoughtful gesture, but when he turns his head to look at you, preparing to persuade you into sleeping with him there, you’re already out of sight.

—

your melodic humming of ‘my funny valentine’ echoes in the bathroom, unable to shake it off after singing the song with your friends in the karaoke room. you waltz around as you return the products you used in the cabinet next to the mirror, and then you wipe the floor dry from the drops of water that fell when you stepped out of the shower booth.

when you deem yourself satisfied with the cleanliness of the bathroom post your bedtime routine, you conclude that it’s finally time to allow yourself much-needed rest. you were all over the place for the past twenty-four hours, and the promise of drifting off into unconsciousness with jungkook sounds like paradise.

you swing the door open and-

“oh my god!”

…your knees nearly give out, heart jumping out of your skin when you’re met by a ball of figure on the floor, enshrouded by your own dark shadow. but the bathroom light manages to shine over the little yellow star patterns on the navy blue blanket wrapped around the mystery person, and you just know.

you clutch at your aching chest with a sigh of relief, still breathless as you sputter out. “what are you doing here? i thought the sofa was comfy?”

jungkook lazily lifts up his head, most of his hair falling on his face but he couldn’t care any less because if you give him one poke he would definitely be sent straight to the dreamland among the clouds. his round doe eyes have turned into slits as he squints up at you, his lips forming a permanent pout.

“i was, but i don’t want to fall asleep without you again.” he scoffs out the complaint as he attempts to rub off the sleep from his eyes. “i need your love, please.”

you don’t think jungkook realizes— just how courageous it is to build camp infront of a door asking to be given love, holding his pounding heart in the palm of his hands, and trusting that you will accept it in yours to handle it with the gentlest of care.

he has come a long way from when he would bend himself backwords to make you happy and comfortable despite your constant reassurance. he wanted to retain your attention, to occupy your thoughts, to make a bigger space for him in your heart. he was afraid of appearing weak, too needy, not worth the trouble. and no matter what it took, he wanted you to never run out of reasons to stay. however, for the jungkook of today, control is an abandoned form of self-destruction and he can tell you in confidence that ‘here i am in all my glory. there are unfixable, fractured parts of me and i am laying them out on the floor for you to see- you can take me or leave me, but i know you’ll always choose the former’ and ‘i am stubborn and i do not give up’ and ‘i want to buy a house in the countryside with you’ and most of all ‘i need your love.’

often times you hear the question ‘how you can make a relationship last?’ being asked. beyond love, patience, and respect— you think… what makes a true love ‘true’ is faith. and out of all these feelings and capacities, to be honest, it might just be the most difficult one to surrender to another soul.

“babe, literally, you were already asleep down there.” you put a hand over your hip, giggling in amusement.

“no, i wasn’t!” he strongly denies. he reaches out to his side to show you the glass of scented candle you failed to notice until now. the melted wax sloshes around like waves crawling to and from the shore. “i was watching the candle to keep myself awake. like this-”

he demonstrates the earlier scenario with a small smile of mischief tugging at the corner of his lips. like an enamored moth, he draws closer to the candle that casts a subtle orange glow on his skin. the flickering flame forms a burning star in each of his wide eyes as it frantically dances to its own beat: making itself smaller, stretching taller, and swaying back and forth.

time stands still. he looks absolutely breathtaking, too good to be true, like an angel that only appears in dreams. you’re almost sure that this life is a hoax and he’s come to take you away. the crackling of the candle gradually lulls you to sleep, and when you wake up, he will be a distant memory.

but then he playfully grins at you and he crosses his legs to switch positions— the weight of his calf almost crushing your toes reminds you that he’s tangible. you chuckle, heart swelling in ten sizes because you can never imagine yourself getting sick of his simultaneously endearing and humorous antics.

“okay, babe. sorry for making you wait.” you coo, fingers carding through his messy hair to gather it on the back of his head and form a ponytail in your fist, a little paranoid that a strand would dip in the candle and burn. still, his bangs escape and cascade down like waterfalls. “let’s go to bed and you can have all the love you need.”

“about damn time.” he enunciates the curse word, instantly springing on his feet, and the sudden movements blows out the treasured candle he’s been carrying around. his expression drops. “oh shit- it fainted-”

“it just fell asleep, don’t worry.” you support his silly joke. “wait- i forgot to close the door of the shower.” you huff in annoyance, catching a glimpse of it when you peeked in to flip off the lightswitch.

jungkook, on the other hand, sneakily speedruns to return the blanket on the couch and the candle beside its many other siblings. they have turned into an organized mess of a collection on the small corner of the living room, along with three of those long stick of lighters and assorted remote controls of your appliances.

the second after you shut the door behind you, your boyfriend is already enveloping you in a bone-crushing hug. you giggle as you wrap your arms around his neck to drown yourself in the comfort of his embrace, and before you know it, the fuzzy slippers spill from your feet as his strong arms sweep them off the floor. your legs automatically encircle his waist as he walks to your dimly-lit bedroom.

“i swear i’m stealing you from your friends for the rest of the week.” he says in a raspy voice before pressing a kiss to your temple. “have i told you that i missed you?”

“hmmm-” you tilt up your chin to look at his face, scrunching your nose as you pretend to be in deep thought. “not yet. i don’t think so.”

“i missed you.”

“then i’ll meet you in your dreams.” you smile sweetly, poking his supple cheek as he kneels on the bed and gently lies you down on the mattress. he settles down beside you, using your arm as a pillow. a squeak escapes your mouth when he squeezes you closer to his body, breathing out a sigh of sheer contentment because he is cuddling with you at last.

“goodnight, baby. i’ll dream of you.”

listen, you know, you’re drained. your ankles are soulless ghosts and your eyes are drooping heavily. but you can feel his hard-on poking your bare thigh, only separated by his sweatpants, and you can’t fucking brush it off because it’s also waking up something very carnal in you. you harshly chew on your bottom lip before you muster up a voice.

“want me to take care of you, baby boy?”

jungkook’s eyelids flutter open, and he raises an eyebrow sternly at your offer. “you’re tired. and you need to wake up in a few hours for work.”

“you’re more important to me than work.” you throw caution to the wind, tucking his hair behind his ear to pepper featherlight kisses all over his face. “besides, i did say that i’ll give you all the love you need, didn’t i?”

the tenderness of your ministrations makes him fold, swallowing thickly as he mutters. “oh, fuck it.”

you gasp as he easily manhandles your body on top him, capturing your lips for a searing kiss as he grinds his hips against yours in a slow, coaxing rhythm. you shudder under his touch— his desperate hands slip under your shirt to caress your waist, tracing your curves as if he’s mapping out your figure, and your fingers tightly curl around the fabric of his sleeves to cling to your remaining shred of strength and sanity.

“i love you- hmmph-”

he doesn’t allow you to finish your sentence. with a filthy moan, he swallows your words to satiate his thirst, sliding his tongue in your mouth to taste more of peppermint and honey and bliss. he smiles into the kiss when you vibrate with a sulky whine, pushing you far enough to see your face. he plants an apologetic peck on your lips, pulling up your t-shirt to reveal the expanse of your skin to the cold air, but he quickly remedies it as he strokes your lower back with his smooth palm.

“i love you more.”

his lips part, a glossy dark shade of pink, and his bunny teeth tug at the silver ring adorning the corner of his mouth as he gloss over your facial features. the sun is about to rise in the east, and it is another day of existing in this beautiful and wretched world with you.

“i’m so fucking lucky to have you, you know that?”

you break free from his hold to properly straddle his small waist, and it’s almost embarrassing how he’s too eager, putting his tattooed arm beneath his head to get a better view of bewitching temptation in its finest. his free hand, shaky with desire and anticipation, finds your bare thighs to caress.

“i know.” your cocky grin turns him on even more, testing the blurry limits of his compromised self-control. his lovedrunk eyes drink you in as you begin stripping off your black t-shirt, which he then recognizes to be his. “but remind me again after i rock your world, will you?”

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask / dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

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#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook drabble #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook one shot #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook au #bts fluff #bts reaction #jungkook angst #jungkook smut

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jksprincess10 · 1 year

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Mr Miller’s birthday gift || Dbf ! Joel x reader

Summary: You meet your dad’s best friend at the bar where you’re celebrating your birthday.

CW: Age gap (reader is 22, Joel is 36). Joel knew her since she was a teenager. oral sex (f receiving), alcohol, p in v, unprotected sex, he talks you through it, praise kink, rough sex, domestic Joel, implied death of a loved one, this is 3k words (you can just skip to the porn, I won’t be mad).

The bar was already vibrating with low music, the lights were warm and yellowish. It was a busy Saturday night, well as busy as it can be for a small-town lounge. The place was mostly occupied by older gentlemen, except for your group of girls.

It was your 22nd birthday and it was the less sketchy place to have your party. You didn’t love it, but your friends said you probably wouldn’t have to pay for any drinks that night, as the men would shower you with gifts, hoping to get lucky. Anyway, you were thankful to be with your best friends Samantha, Bianca and Allison.

You were probably on your third shot paid by a stranger. You were dancing close to your friends, even though it wasn’t really the bar where people would dance. The soft fabric of your black dress would shimmer elegantly under the lights.

“Holy shit. Is that Mr Miller and his brother?” asked Allison while looking at the door who had just opened to let the two handsome men enter. Your gaze followed hers. The men were… infamous in your neighborhood to be real eye candy. To make matters worse, Joel was your dad’s best friend. They went to school together and they really hit it off even though Mr Miller was a few years younger than him - your dad wasn’t really the mature kind anyway. They had lost each other for a while before reconnecting when you were a teenager.

“Yes. Fuckfuckfuck.” You muttered, before asking for a glass of water, hoping to get down from your slight buzz. You didn’t want him to see you drunk right as he got here.

As you were drinking the lukewarm water, your eyes met with his soft brown irises. You couldn’t do as if you didn’t see him. Especially since he was waving at you. You shot him a smile and your friends pushed you to go and talk to him.

“Hey hun’, didn’t think I’d see you this bar for old men.”

“Well, you know… it’s my birthday so… There are few places where you can party in this awful town.” You smiled awkwardly as you tucked some of your hair behind your ear covered in various piercings.

He slapped his forehead with the palm of his hand. “Shit, I totally forgot. I’m sorry, I’ll make it up to you.” There was a way he could make it up to you, yes. You blushed slightly as you thought about it.

He would always bring you gifts for your birthday since you could remember. He was a caring man, really. You were totally crushing on him since, well forever. Even though it was really weird because he was so close to your dad, and he knew you since when you were a teen. But… you were an adult now, right? You could do what you want.

“N-No worries, Mr. Miller!” You looked awkwardly at his brother, who smiled at you. “Well, I’ll let you enjoy your evening. Hope Sarah is doing well.”

Sarah was his adorable tween daughter. You would babysit her when she was younger. Joel was a widow, and you didn’t know much about his past, as he didn’t like talking about it.

He went to sit at the bar with his brother. You went back to your friends who were clutching to you like they were hungry for gossip.

“God, what did he say?” Whispered Bianca.

“Nothing important! He didn’t get me a gift, can’t blame him, but he said he would make it up to him. Now, the subject is over. Please fetch me a drink.”

“Yes ma’am.”

You went on with your evening without really thinking about it, until the barman brought drinks to your table that were from Tommy and Joel. You felt like you were melting in the floor, you wanted to disappear. But still, you took the shot, while looking in his direction. He locked eyes with you and smiled. You were starting to feel the heat.

“He totally wants to fuck you.” Whispered Allison.

You spat half of the shot on the table.

“He doesn’t seem like the type to like younger women. He was married and he’s super serious.” You argued.

“Stop being delusional, he’s been looking since he entered the bar. And we all know you’ve been crushing on him since you were a teen, he was like your sexual awakening. What are you waiting for?” Said Samantha.

“Oh my god, stop.” You were starting to get fed up. You didn’t want your friends feeding into your delusions and make you think that this was more than it was.

Frustrated, you got up to ask for more water and of course, you bumped into him.

“Y’okay?” He asked.

“Yes, my friends were just being inappropriate and saying how hot is Tommy.” You lied to get your revenge.

The men both laughed, and Joel patted his brother on the shoulder.

“You still got it. I don’t.” Mr Miller laughed.

You finally got your water.

“Sorry for the bother, Joel… ehm… I mean, Mr Miller.” You didn’t know why you apologized, but it was automatic. You always apologized even though you had no reason to do so.

You went back to your friends and drank your water. Later, you ate a cake that was made by Bianca, and you all kept drinking until it was time to go. Still, you were careful and drank a lot of water. You certainly drank less than the girls and you were feeling okay, but not enough to drive. You felt tipsy, but you could still walk and think mostly straight.

The girls called a taxi and when you were leaving with them, Joel and Tommy were leaving at the same time.

“Hey, y/n, I was just dropping Tommy off, do you also want a ride?” He asked.

The girls pushed you more towards them to encourage you.

“Y-yeah, that would be really nice actually.” You tried to smile.

You hugged the girls before following the men. Tommy let you sit at the front, which made things more awkward for you. You kept fidgeting with your jewelry as soft music filled the truck. You tried looking outside, but sometimes, you’d turn your head to catch a glimpse of Mr Miller’s side profile. He had a nice strong jaw and a bump on his nose that you found adorable. Small wrinkles formed around his eyebrows as he was concentrating on the road.

Finally, he dropped off Tommy, you gave him directions to the building where you lived as you did some small talk. You texted your dad to tell him you were almost home and safe. You didn’t address that Joel was the one who drove you, though. Your dad was always worried when you went out late.

You were 2 minutes away when Joel got a call. You picked it up for him and put it on speaker. It was Sarah.

“Dad, Lea and I are going to sleep now, just wanted to say goodnight. See you tomorrow.”

“Goodnight baby girl. I’ll pick you up around 10 and we’ll get breakfast together. Love you.”

You hung up for him and he thanked you. You tried to ignore the way you felt your body melt as you heard the sweet nickname. He was a really sweet dad, really.

Joel parked his car behind the building to make sure you’d make it home safe. He didn’t like the idea of dropping you off in the streets. You cleared your throat, feeling your heart thumping loudly in your chest. You wanted to be bold, and maybe the alcohol you consumed helped a little.

“Mr Miller, you know, what you said about making it up to me?” He turned to you, looking at your face attentively.

“Yeah, what about it, darlin’?” The nickname was rolling on his tongue because of his stupidly charming southern accent.

You bit your lip. “Do you…” You leaned into him, elbow resting on the middle console of the car to support your upper body. He followed your movements and you saw him swallow nervously. “Do you want to come inside?” His eyes moved down to your lips, his long lashes covering most of his irises. You took that as a sign and pressed your lips against his. It was soft, timid at first, until he cupped your cheeks with his hands and leaned more into you, his tongue licking at your lips to ask for entry. You opened your mouth slightly to let him taste you and let yourself taste him. He tasted like the beers he had consumed. You couldn’t help the whimpers that died against his lips.

Your lips went their separate ways when you had to gasp for air. Joel seemed like he was hesitating, fingers tapping nervously on his steering wheel. You instantly panicked.

“I’m sorry, I guess I… misinterpreted…” You were opening the door, but he stopped you, holding your wrist.

“It’s just… are you sober enough? I don’t know if you’re just too drunk to understand who I am. And I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

“Mr… Joel… I am. I want this. Please. If… if anything, I’m the one taking advantage of you here.”

He let out a shaky breath. “God. Don’t tell your dad.”

You agreed and got out of the truck, as he followed closely to you. You held his arm to keep him even closer and you almost ran to your front door. He kissed you again in the elevator, hungrily, this time, giving you a taste of what was coming.

On the 3rd floor, you went out of the elevator, and you fumbled with your keys until you found the right one and opened the door. You almost banged it shut. He grabbed your waist to bring you closer, mouth attaching to yours as you were guiding him blindly to your room.

“I always thought you were… so pretty and nice…and soft… but I didn’t want to be a creepy 36 years old man hitting on you…” He said between kisses.

You laid your back on your soft bed, making him hover his body on top of you. His strong thighs straddled your waist, making you feel every inch of him.

“Stop. I had a crush on you since I first met you.”

He laughed softly, a smile accentuating the small wrinkles around his eyes. Your hands caressed the soft flannel fabric of his green checkered shirt, before undoing the buttons. He helped you take off the black t-shirt that he was wearing underneath. You drank in every centimeter of tan skin you discovered there. He was already naturally tan, but the fact that he mostly worked outside brought out the delicious color of his skin even more. He wasn’t the most fit man, and he had a bit of a tummy, but his arms were strong and inviting. Every part of him looked soft.

“You’re perfect, Mr Miller.”

The name went straight to his dick.

“You’re gonna have to stop calling me like that, hun’.”

“Or else?” You asked teasingly.

His rough working hands brushed over your thighs, before pulling up slowly your shimmering dress. You helped him get it off, revealing a black lace bralette and matching panties.

“Or I won’t be able to control myself.”

The dress joined his shirt on the ground, becoming one in the pile of laundry. His hands caressed delicately the skin he discovered, your soft tummy, the smooth skin of your chest.

“I’m okay with that, Mr Miller.” You whispered near his ear, before nipping at his earlobe. You laughed as your nose brushed against his scruffy beard.

He groaned and held down your wrists, moving you away from him and keeping you stuck against the mattress. He bent the top of his body over yours, lips tracing the line of your neck, your chest, your belly, slowly going down on you. He finally placed a soft kiss on one of your thighs.

“So pretty… yet, so fucking bratty.” He sighed as his fingers traced the outline of your cunt, feeling the wetness already ruining your lace panties. A breath got stuck in your throat, your body squirming, asking for more.

His plush lips replaced his fingers, placing kisses on your clothed wetness. Your fingers curled in his soft hair, pushing him closer. He softly slapped your thigh and you let him go.

“Please, Joel. I wanted this since forever.”

He smirked as he looked up at you, brown eyes filled with lust.

“Use your words, hun’. Be precise.”

“God. Please eat me out. Please please please.” You begged, already a mess, even though he barely touched you.

He seemed satisfied with your begs. Two fingers pulled down your panties, before discarding them somewhere in the room. He buried his face between your thighs, and he licked from the bottom to your clit, testing the waters.

You let out a swear word under your breath, hands coming back to his brown curls. He laughed softly, his breath hitting your wetness and making you shiver.

“You’re such a mess already. Dirty little girl.”

You pulled on his curls to bring him closer, and he finally committed to the part, tongue curling around your bundle of nerves, making you squirm against him. Joel put a hand on your lower tummy to keep your body down.

“You taste so fucking sweet, hun’. Knew you’d be so good for me.” He praised, before his tongue pressed harder against you, putting more pressure in each movement. You felt your body tremble under each lap of his tongue, moaning openly for him.

His fingers parted your folds so you would feel everything directly in your nerves. Two fingers collected your wetness and stimulated you, discovering every part of that sweet cunt. He left a kiss on your clit, before sucking it in his mouth. That sent you over the edge so quickly.

“G-Gonna cum, god, please… Joel…” He sucked even harder as you came undone under him, trembling, and closing your thighs under the impact of the orgasm. He guided you through it, being patient and waiting for you to settle down.

His face went back to face yours, before kissing you softly, making you taste yourself on his mouth.

“Take off your pants, I-I want to suck you…” You moaned against his lips, hands clumsily finding his leather belt.

“Not tonight hun’, as much as I want you to. It’s your birthday, not mine. So instead, I’ll fuck you, okay?”

You held his gaze and nodded. You’d let him do anything he wanted. He finally took off his pants and his boxers at the same time. Your gaze traveled down his hips to discover what you had imagined so many times. He was even bigger than you had seen through his tight jeans.

“Like what you see?” He asked flirtatiously.

“Yes. Better than I imagined when I was touching myself.”

“You thought about me like that, hun’?”

You nodded and helped him take off your bra, freeing your breasts.

“What would your old man say, hm? His sweet girl thinking about his best friend while masturbating...” He whispered before taking one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking softly to make it harder. His other hand grabbed your other boob, his fingers pressing softly into the flesh.

“He doesn’t need to know, Joel.” Your fingers tugged on his curls to make him stop. “Stop making me wait. Please fuck me.” You begged.

The older man finally obliged. His hands spread your thighs.

He suddenly stopped to ask. “Do you have condoms?”

“No, we don’t need them. Getting checked regularly and I’m on the pill. I want to feel you. Please.”

His hand held the base of his cock as he inserted himself slowly in your dripping hole. You tried to relax as much as you could to ease the pain. Seeing you wince under his insertion; he pressed a kiss against your mouth to soothe you. His soft brown eyes were looking attentively at your expression.

“You okay, hun? You still want this?”

“Yes. Just let me… just let me adjust. You’re fucking huge.”

“I know, I know, sweet girl. You’re doing good.” He shushed you, caressing your cheek as he finished inserting himself completely. You melted into his touch like you were starving for him.

You concentrated on your breath and your walls adjusted eventually. Joel was patient, caring. As always. You moved your hips to show him that he could start thrusting into you. He put his hands on each side of your head as he expertly moved his hips. Your hands came up to his cheeks to pull him into a soft kiss.

It hit you all at once. You were in love with Mr Miller. But you didn’t say anything, you just kept kissing him, muffling your whimpers against his mouth.

“How do you like it, hun’?” He asked as he let go of your lips to hide in the crook of your neck, leaving kisses there.

“Rough. Hard. Unless you’re too old to provide.” You teased with a smile.

“Watch your mouth, girl.”

His body suddenly left yours, leaving you empty and wanting more. He flipped your body over and held you by the hips to lift your ass up, as he thrusted forcefully back into you. You bit into your pillow to stop yourself from screaming. He seemed amused by your reactions, and he kept a fast and hard rhythm, the sound of your skin slapping filling the silent room.

“F-Fuck, Mr Miller…”

You moved your ass against him to feel him more, and he slapped your butt cheek, hard. You sobbed his name and your body fell back into the mattress. This didn’t stop him. He kept thrusting harshly into you as his fingers held your ass.

“Where do you want me, hun’?”

He pulled on your hair to lift your head and hear your response.

“Cum in me, please.”

His hips stuttered as he shot his warm liquid between your walls. You whined as he pulled his dick away from your hole. Even though your whole body was sore, you managed to get up and run to the bathroom, as Joel looked at you with an amused grin.

***

When you came back to your room, Mr Miller was still here, laid on your mattress, only wearing his boxers. You found clean panties in a drawer and joined him, your small body finding his warmth. He put his strong arms around you.

“Happy birthday.” He whispered as he smelled your hair.

“Thank you. It may be the best birthday. Whatever dad bought me… it doesn’t beat this gift.” You lifted your chin to steal a kiss from him. You bathed in his warmth and his spicy perfume, refusing to think that this was the last time you would do this. Still, it was in the back of his mind.

You eventually fell asleep in his arms, and he refused to move, not wanting to wake you up.

***

You woke up before him and you were grateful for this opportunity: you took the time to drink in the sight his peaceful expression and the soft curls sticking to his forehead. You got up slowly not to wake him up and found his flannel shirt on the ground. You took it in your hands, feeling the soft fabric, before stealing it to wear it around the apartment.

You made coffee and the sound of the machine woke him up. He joined you in the kitchen, looking groggy and tired. You sat up on the counter as you looked at him with an amused smile.

“Hi.” You said joyfully.

He approached you and pressed his hips between your legs as he leaned in for a kiss. “Hi, hun’. You look good in my shirt.”

He looked at the time and sighed. “I have to take a shower and then pick up Sarah. M’sorry… I wanted to stay.”

“It’s okay.”

You pointed him to the bathroom and before he disappeared, you said his name. He looked at you through the door.

“Is this the last time, Joel?” It felt weird, intimate, saying his first name now that you were fully sober and awake.

“’Course not.”

You stopped the coffee machine and joined him in the bathroom, leaving a kiss on his lips before disappearing with him in the bathroom.

“We may… have time for a quickie before I leave, hm?”

You laughed and your bodies found each other in the heat of the shower.

#dbf!joel miller #dbf!joel #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x yn #joel miller x y/n #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x yn

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katsukiizmoon · 7 months

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╰┈➤ ꒰🕸🍒 ┊IN THE CAR WASH | Katsuki Bakugou꒱

『♡』 18+, F!reader, handjob, blowjob, mild overstimulation, cum eating, established relationship, you put a finger in his ass 『♡』 aaah this was supposed to be a drabble in tumblr mobile but ended up being a little under 2k. Happy kinktober lmao. -> I was listening to this

The car vibrates, music playing low in the background. Your hand under his as he rubs his thumb over your knuckles. You hum and chew your bottom lip. Cool air blasts through the AC and onto you, he makes a turn and slows down to stop for a red light.

You hit skip on a song and Katsuki frowns a little, turning his head to the side and sticking his tongue out at you. Studs in his ears glisten and his skin glows with the presence of the sunlight.The cycle has a while to go with another two sides set to turn green before yours. A thick hand squeezes your palm as the large man to your left taps his foot to the beat. His lips move slightly as he mimics the words near silently, merely hushed.

Taking in the image in front of you, you sigh. The black compression shirt highlights every muscle he has. Perked nipples press against the fabric as if they’re begging to be put on display. Your eyes trail down his body for a moment, tongue flicking out to wet pretty lips. Something thick like honey starts to settle in your veins and slowly it begins to cloud your thoughts.

You bring his hand up to your lips, kissing the back of it and setting it down near the gear shift. He doesn’t pay any mind to it, too preoccupied with watching traffic and listening to music. Nimble fingers slowly reach toward his thigh to slide over the fabric there.

Katsuki’s tapping stops. His mind halts momentarily, carmine eyes glancing down, before he taps to the rhythm again. A horn blares in the distance and the AC is no match for the way his body is beginning to heat. The faint smell of caramel seeps into your senses and sets you on fire. It makes you bold, whispers little things to you.

But Katsuki? His mind races and goes over every possibility on the planet of what you have planned. It settles on something innocent. You’re just wanting to rest your hand there, he thinks.

He is wrong.

Your fingers trail little circles over dark fabric in repetition, while moving closer to his inner thigh. The music changes and you feel the need to wet your lips again. Katsuki begins to get cotton mouth but he swallows spit down to soothe it.

Don’t blame me, love made me crazy, if it doesn’t you ain’t doing it right.

Katsuki thanks his lucky stars that the light turns green with a fuzzy mind. The bottom of his shoe presses on the pedal and the car begins to speed up. He tries not to think too much about your movements. But he his only a man, who’s slowly being put into a trance.

Lord save me, my drug is my baby. I’ll be using for the rest of my life.

He swallows again and presses a button on the steering wheel, murmuring lowly to the slowed down song. The blonde beside you seems to be unaffected in your eyes. That just won’t do. He feels your fingers move upwards toward his clothed cock that’s beginning to chub in his pants and lets out a deep sigh. It goes on like that for a while, you brush your palm over him a couple times and feign innocence. And he just keeps driving, seeming unaffected despite your best efforts.

You glance over at him, his jaw is set and eyes narrow. Tension makes the air thick like the hardening length beneath his belt. You look back at the road, then lean to the side and begin unbuckling his belt. That makes him freeze. His body feels like it’s on fire.

God knows he’s at your mercy. Forced to drive while you’re toying with him, playing him like a fucking fiddle. He doesn’t even remember where he’s supposed to be going anymore, at some point he just kept driving without thinking. He lets out a slow breath to settle himself when you unzip his pants.

“Babe.” Katsuki grits, only to hear an innocent hmm? Sound in return.

He’s going to start leaking soon, cock straining against his boxers. And your start palming lightly at it like the little minx you are. He spots a massive car wash that appears vacant out of the corner of his eye and flicks on the blinker.

Your hand’s started rubbing and palming at him through his boxers. The head of his cock smears precum on the inside of them, body covered in a thin sheen of sweat. His hand shakes while turning the AC on full blast, desperate for something to cool him off. Glancing at the mirror, he merges over a few lanes and turns into the car wash.

When the car pulls in, you remove your hand and blink a little. Katsuki wordlessly grabs his wallet from the center console and shoves his card in, picking the most expensive and extensive wash he can.

“I thought we were going home..” Your brows furrow, looking around a little.

“Nope.” He pops the “p” and pulls in before putting the car in park and unbuckling his seat belt. His seat slides back a little to give him some leg room. Large sprayers begin to cover the car in foam and soap. The loud scrubbers going to work.

Katsuki tugs at the waistband of his boxers, setting his cock free. It springs up toward his tummy while slick substance dribbles from the tip of it. He gives it a little stroke as his head falls back, teeth digging into his plush bottom lip. His eyes are half lidded when he looks at you and grunts.

“Get the fuck over here and suck.” He reaches a hand under the side of his seat and leans the seat back a little more. You nod and unbuckle the seatbelt.

Your fingers wrap around him and stroke in a wringing motion. His cock twitches in your hand and he pants. Heat spreads all over both of your bodies and the car wash is so loud you can only hear eachother. His breaths come out in short pants like he’s catching it.

“Fuck, yeah, like that pretty.” His tanned jaw drops a little when your tongue lays flat against the head.

You lap at the precum like it’s your favorite thing on the earth to taste. His fingers thread through your hair, tugging at the roots and pushing your head down. Katsuki resists every urge to buck up into your mouth the best he can despite the coil tightly winding in his tummy. But you’re doing so good.

Sucking him like a champ, slurping and making a mess. Spit dribbles down toward his balls but soaks into the waistband of his boxers. And then you’re sinking down and humming, hand reaching down. He grabs at the side of the car door and braces himself. He can’t keep quiet, letting out long strings of groans and moans. The praise makes your pussy soak through your panties and you think about rubbing your clit for relief.

“God, take it. Suck my cock, yeah, yeah, shit.”

That’s all it takes to spur you on. You press a finger near his taint and watch his face scrunch. The car smells like his sweat and those stupid air refresher clips in the vents, leather seats becoming slippery from your fun. Your lips pop off him wetly and you look up to him with such pretty, doey eyes, that he almost cums then. His forearm veins peek out to play as the car door gets squeezed in a death grip. Your lips wrap around the head of his cock and you suck. Hard. Simultaneously you press the finger past the ring of muscle and up to a knuckle. Your hand strokes what you can’t fit in your mouth, trying to focus.

And just like that the band snaps. Euphoria wracks his body and he fucks up into your mouth, head thrown back as he sings expletives and spills. It seeps from your lips, despite you trying to swallow it all down, but you use a tongue to swipe it up.

“Oh god, god-” He whimpers out while riding out the high.

Katsuki feels like his entire body is strung high for a moment. His chest heaves and his fingers shake when you pull your mouth off him and give him a quick kiss.Your pussy is soaked and your clit throbs like it has a heartbeat of it own. Sweat has built at the back of his neck and his nipples stay perked. You glance at the lights in the carwash and see there’s still four other things left. Something about scent and bug shield— you don’t know, there’s suds of different colors all over the windows.

You swipe a thumb over his nipple while keeping a finger still in his ass. He whimpers at that and presses his lips into a thin line, gripping your arm so hard it might bruise if he squeezes any tighter. But you persist and stroke his cock with fever.

“I can’t, oh, god baby I can’t it’s-” Katsuki whines out and shakes. His voice goes up in pitch for a moment while desperately trying to hang on to his sanity. You tighten your fingers around him and start pressing the finger inside him upwards.

His body spasms then goes completely still. Katsuki’s entire body is tight on a string, the only thing keeping him on this god forsaken earth being your pretty hands. Heaven wraps him up in a blanket and makes his chest wrack. Carmine eyes roll back, the hand that was once gripping your forearm now dragging nails down it. Your pussy clenches around nothing and the breath is knocked out of you in awe.

Hot white ropes spill all over your hand. You quickly move the finger out of his asshole and instead use it to anchor you on the seat while you suck the cum off of his cock. It twitches in your hand and mouth with sensitivity. You’re addicted to him, is reactions, his cum— like they’re a drug.

Lust clouds your mind heavier than it possibly ever has when you look into his half lidded eyes. He’s swallowing your pretty little soul whole and making it a home, making it his. Cum dribbles off the corner of your lip and Katsuki leans forward to lick it off for you.

His breathing slows and he tosses his head back with a breathy laugh. The car begins to be rinsed and you reach into the console for emergency wipes and toss one on his softening member. He cleans up with a wince and wipes some from your neck while you focus on your hands getting clean.

“We should come here more.” Katsuki suggests wit a cheeky grin, brow raised and pants now buttoned again.

“Absolutely. For now.. Let’s get home before I make you pay for another round and eat me out.” You buckle your seatbelt and roll your eyes with a snicker.

You look at him with a fire in your eyes and puffy lips. You grab his hand and kiss his knuckles again, this time linking your fingers together before he pulls out of the car wash and heads home.

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ghouljams · 3 months

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Sin Summer (Soap) Rating: E(MDNI) Word Count: 2.7k Tags: Soap x f!Reader, tinder au, oral (m and f!receiving), throat fucking, messy sex, masturbation, breath play, D/s dynamic, public play, spit play, piv sex, fingering, dirty talk, pussy slapping, meet and fuck, pwp, reader sleeps around and no one blames them Summary: Six days ago you were in Glasgow, it's really not a big deal. Part 2, Part 4

(Six days ago, Glasgow)

“Cannae say ya been to Scotland if ya don’ have a few tablets.” John tells you as you stare at the sort of caramel colored cube he handed you. He’s got a whole bag of them tucked in his pocket. You shrug and bite into the cube, it’s sweet, very sweet. Sweet enough to make your teeth hurt a little, so you pop the whole thing in your mouth and enjoy the way the sugar melts on your tongue. “Good yeah?” You nod, and he passes you another.

So far this is one of your more tame tinder dates. You’re more of a late evening kind of adventurer, but John had insisted on taking you out proper. Something about making sure you were properly wooed before he started “in on you”. Makes you feel a little like you’re going to get murdered, but he assured you he’d lose his commission if he did anything that stupid. So here you are, being shown around town and treated to all sorts of goodies. Properly wooed.

This guy’s gotta be a freak.

“So what’s the plan for tonight?” You ask, taking in the scenery of the city.

“Dinner, drinks” John hums, “chains, whips.”

“Seriously?” You laugh.

“Awright,” John laughs, “No chains an’ whips, I’ll stick with mah hands.” You bump your shoulder against him and he loops an arm around you.

“I’m all yours, as long as it’s fun.” You tell him, playing into his joke. You’re a sucker for a pretty face, always have been, and it makes your cheeks heat to meet those angel blue eyes and crooked smile. John tugs you a little closer against his side, squeezes you tight so it’s hard to walk. It makes you giggle, and lets you feel all the lovely muscle he’s hiding under his pull-over.

“Never had any complaints,” He brags, “but I won’t treat ya too rough.” You laugh when he presses a wet smacking kiss to your temple, pushing at his face to get him off. He lets you go only long enough to swat your ass, grabbing your hips and pulling you back against him as soon as you swear. The sting is perfect, not enough through your jeans, but promising.

“My safe word’s applesauce,” You joke. John’s low hum, his eyes lidding as he looks you over, makes you think he’s not joking.

“Practice it for me, pet,” He half orders, and your mouth goes dry. He pulls on dominance with just a roll of his shoulders. No shit this guy’s military, every inch of him commands respect. He grips your chin with his fingers when you take too long, moving your jaw for you. “Applesauce,” He coos, “say it.”

“Ap-” You clear your throat, resist the urge to lick your lips, “applesauce.”

“Stick out your tongue,” He tips your head back as you open your mouth and show him your tongue. Someone passes you on the street, their voice as they talk on their phone barely reaches you except to drop heat into the pit of your stomach. John spits on your tongue in the middle of a busy street and your skin blazes with heated shame. “Swallow,” His voice vibrates through you and settles with a burst between your legs, you close your mouth and swallow thickly, opening again to show him you’re empty. John smiles, tips your head one way then the other to inspect. “Good girl,” He coos, and you could melt right there.

“Maybe we skip dinner,” You mumble. John drags his thumb against your lips, leaning back to force you to lean more heavily against him. You don’t think you could even keep yourself standing if it weren’t for his firm grip.

His smile is blinding, you have to blink to keep your eyes focused on him, but his voice drips low like honey down your spine, “That’s what take-away’s for.”

“Be better if I had a proper leash,” John hums, looping his belt around your neck, “Doesn’t have the same yank to it.” He pulls the end of the leather hard, the thick metal buckle snapping tight against your neck. It’s a fun sort of pull towards him that makes you want to pull back, the squeeze around your neck evenly distributed across the leather to be only slightly uncomfortable. “Green pet?” He asks and you give a thumbs up.

“Green sir,” The words drag pleasantly against your tongue, been a while since you had anyone fun to play with, “Not my first time doing this.”

“Alright then, on your back, head over the edge.” John directs, nodding towards the bed. His grip on the belt loosens enough that you can pull the end from his fingers as you get settled. Normally you consider stripping part of the fun, but for now you’re thankful John had you get undressed before he started collaring you.

You tip your head back, arms on either side of you, fingers twisting into the sheets, and open your mouth. You know the drill. John laughs, and leans to grab his belt again. The dark leather in his tight fist is attractive, and the gentle pressure on your neck makes your head spin. Not choking you, not yet, but the threat is there. John unbuttons his pants tugging his cock free. Shower, you think. He’s big, but still only half hard. It doesn’t matter when he feeds you his cock, easing into your mouth as you lave your tongue against the head. You reach up with your hand to grip the base of his cock, and he pulls the belt tight.

“No hands pet,” He warns, and you slide your hand up his stomach instead. Card your fingers through the dark curls leading up to his belly button, tracing the lines of his abs with careful purpose as you swallow around his cock. The belt loosens and you open your mouth a little wider. John pulls back, and you swirl your tongue around his head, sucking hard at the sensitive glans.

You can feel his cock stiffening with each shallow thrust into your mouth, warming you up for the main event. You suck greedily at him, never let it be said you don’t give a mean blow job. You worship his cock as best you can. You stroke your tongue over his length, hollowing your cheeks to encourage him deeper. You can feel the muscles under your fingers holding back, but you wish they wouldn’t. John works himself deeper with every roll of his hips, testing your gag reflex until he’s satisfied you can take him.

He pushes into your mouth, his hard cock stretching out your throat with a pleasant burn. You do your best to swallow the discomfort, dragging your tongue over his length as best you can. He stops there, his cock down your throat and his balls knocking against your nose. He invades your senses, the smell of his sweat and musk filling your nose with each breath, your eyes starting to water from the angle, you scratch his stomach, trying to find something to hold onto. You feel him lean into the touch. Then the sharp sting of him slapping your clit. You squeal, the noise muffled by the cock in your throat, and scramble to get away from the feeling, which only pushes you further onto his dick.

John hits you again and you can’t do anything but twitch. The belt around your throat tightens warningly, and you whimper around him. His hand rubs down between your legs and drags slick up over your aching clit. He slaps you three times in rapid succession, each one harder than the last. Your eyes roll a little, and you take a sharp breath. Again you’re made dizzy by the smell of him, masculine enough to tickle your nose.

“Getting all worked up over a few slaps,” John tuts, clicking his tongue as his fingers rub over your cunt, “look how wet you are for me already.” You whine around his cock, feel it drag out of your throat and over your tongue as he pulls his hips back. You lick his length desperately when he leaves your mouth, kissing his cock between breaths. He rocks his hips against your lips, smearing your spit over your face. You tip your head a little more to catch his balls as he moves, sucking at the sensitive skin and dragging your tongue through the wiry curls.

“Proper slag,” He groans, you can feel his fingers wrap around his cock, his strokes bumping your chin, “givin’ my balls a spit shine, while I abuse your pretty pussy.”

You make an affirmative noise, opening your mouth wide to suck one of his balls into your mouth. Your eyes do roll at the next smack, and you can hear John groaning as you moan around him. The spark of the slaps is starting to drip out of you, your cunt clenching with each strike. The noise is different too quick, your wetness smeared eagerly over your pussy with each rub of John’s hand. It’s not enough for you. Your stomach tight and hot without the trigger to send it over the edge.

You give John’s balls a final kiss, enjoying the spit that sticks to your mouth as you pull away. “Make me gag,” You beg, licking at John’s fingers as he strokes his cock, “please.” The belt tightens again, too quick for you to think what you’re saying wrong. John’s fingers hook in your cunt, tugging at your pussy and tilting your hips for himself. You shiver, do your best to breath while darkness fuzzes your vision. Your head swims, pleasantly warm, as your carotids are squeezed. “Please, sir.” You amend, though you’re not sure you want to.

“There you go,” John mumbles, the belt loosening as the man pulls back to push into your waiting mouth with one solid motion. You gag, constricting unpleasantly around his cock. You feel the rush of spit in your mouth, the drool you can’t swallow down that drips out over your lips with each thrust of his cock. You moan around him, grinding your clit against the heel of his hand. John clicks his tongue again, and the sound shudders through you. All hot and heady.

He spanks your cunt raw as he fucks your throat, and you feel all the tightness in your stomach unwind like the snap of a rubberband. Orgasm shivers up your spine, and you feel yourself flutter around emptiness. It’s wet and warm, and John doesn’t stop just because your legs are shaking. You writhe against the bed, your feet scrambling for purchase. It hurts, it’s too much. You smack John’s stomach and he stills. Your stomach flips as his hand stops its assault, only for his come to flood your throat. You gag again, and swallow desperately.

It’s not worth it, he pulls out to paint your face. His come hits your tongue, then your chin, then over your chest. You don’t bother swallowing the drool and come that he leaves in your mouth, letting it drip out of your mouth and over your cheeks.

John pulls you up off the edge of the bed by his makeshift leash and you attempt to get your libs to work while your brain is trying to play catchup. “On your knees,” He orders you, and you flop forward onto the bed. You push your hips up, feel John knock your knees further apart, his fingers pushing into your pussy. You flinch away from the feeling and he pulls you right back. “Color?” He hums, twisting his fingers against your sweet spot.

“Green,” You moan, trying to avoid coming on his fingers immediately. You’re too sensitive from the spanking, clenching on his fingers as soon as he starts thrusting them into you. If John’s opening you up he certainly doesn’t take his time with it. His thrusts are quick and targeted, his fingers hitting your sweet spot until you feel a gush of wetness slick them. His hand leaves you and you do your best to keep your hips up. “Fuck,” you groan against the sheets, “please-” The rest of your sentence is lost with the feeling of his cock pressing against you.

You push back against it, feeling the nudge of it as it pushes against your entrance. Thick and tempting. John holds still for you, lets you try and pop him inside before his hips snap against you and you gasp, tightening around his cock immediately. You close your eyes and press your messy face against the bed. Fuck he feels good, stretches you just enough to feel it.

The drag of his cock against your walls is warm and rough, he doesn’t give you time to adjust. You love when they do that. Makes the slight ache of being fucked hard that much better. He hits something deep and zappy in your stomach. You let out a tight whine, and press back into the feeling, trying to get him to do it again.

“Know how to make me feel good, don’t you slag.” John rumbles, his voice rough and deep. You nod, feel the wetness on your face dragging over the sheets. John pulls the belt tight, forces you to arch your back as you lift your head, “Can’t hear ya’,” He coos, “I said-”

“Yes,” You moan, the ‘ss’ pulling long and fricative as he fucks you at a brutal pace, “Yes, yes, yes.”

“Fuckin’ pleasure to use,” John’s voice fuzzes in your brain, your eyes unfocused as you stare at the wall over the headboard, “take my cock so well.” The smack of his thighs against yours hurts, his balls knocking against your already abused clit tick the tight heat in your stomach a little tighter with each thrust.. He’s bigger than you, stronger the way he pulls you back with just a belt. You clench on his cock, another gush of slick easing his thrusts. “Just like that, pretty little cunt, fuck am gonna come.”

You push back against his cock, feel his thrusts grow erratic as his pace speeds up. He comes with a sharp intake of breath, and lets go of the belt to let you fall onto the bed again. You shiver against the sheets, and try to catch your breath as he pulls out. Fuck. You didn’t come. You’re still wound up for a third.

You shove a hand between your legs and rub at your clit. “You’re jokin’,” John gapes. You ignore him, rocking against your fingers as you finally feel yourself cross the edge. You let out a shaky breath as your stomach jumps, your pussy fluttering and your legs shaking. You whine for yourself, rubbing your clit until your hips jump away from the feeling. You can feel John watching you as you drop your hand back against the bed with a sigh.

There’s a long moment of silence. You don’t particularly care what John thinks, but you could do without the quiet. Your hips buck when you feel his tongue lick a broad stroke over your dripping cunt. You’re quick to grab his short cropped hair and pull, as he wiggles his tongue against you.

“Good boy,” You purr, keeping a tight grip on him as he cleans you up.

(Now)

“You know him?” Ghost tips his head at the man in the doorway. It’s the first time you’ve noticed that he isn’t wearing his mask. He looks good. Handsome even with the scars that cut across his cheeks. The sort of handsome that makes men confident even when they can’t show their face. You get a little distracted looking at him, take long enough answering that he glances at you. The smile you earn, the soft chuckle as he turns and knocks his finger under your chin, is worth it. “Back to me baby,” He tells you, and you take a breath.

“Could ask you the same thing,” You smile back. Ghost hums, something sparking in his eyes that you can’t place.

“Johnny,” Ghost calls over his shoulder, John’s shoulders jerk back, the scot standing at attention, “Close the door.”

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aureatchi · 2 months

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⚕ ᡣ𐭩 . ° . AND IF THERE WAS A PLACE I HAD TO CHOOSE…IT’D BE IN YOUR ARMS TONIGHT. (bedroom session) ft. dazai, chuuya, fyodor, akutagawa, sigma

— how the bsd men treat you when you’re sick. (& more)

a/n. started writing when i was sick djsjsja. tagging my moots who were under the weather anytime this month <3 to them & anyone else unwell, feel better soon !!

info. fem!reader. fluff. established relationships. light angst & hospital in akutagawa’s. chuuya plays the guitar. you play the piano in fyodor’s. sigma’s a chef. some inspo from RED for dazai & fyodor’s (our hcs!)

DAZAI will cuddle with you anyway, even when you are buried under bundles of blankets. he still thinks you need a little more warmth…and you look just too cute wrapped up in what resembles an igloo to not nuzzle with you! however, don’t be surprised when he blames you for making him sick once you recover, as if it wasn’t his fault.

“A-choo!” Your eyes were watery, you felt too cold for your liking, and it was harder than usual to breathe through your nose. Your sneeze made you sit up in discomfort, and you hastily pulled the covers toward you.

“‘Bella? Are you alright?” Dazai sat up next, meeting your eyes as you turned your face toward him.

He noticed how flushed your cheeks were and how watery your eyes were as you frowned—no, the first thought Dazai had wasn’t Oh no! You’re sick!

“Aw, love! You look so cute!” And he tackled you back down.

“Osamu!” you shouted as he lay practically atop you, squeezing you like a teddy bear.

“‘Samu!” you repeated once more. “You’re going to suffocate me!”

“You feel so cold, though, darling!” His reply was muffled as he buried his face into your neck.

“It’s like you’re trying to get yourself sick!”

He sat the both of you back up.

“H-huh? What’d you mean? Why would anyone willingly get sick?”

“Oh, I’m not sure either!” you exclaimed. “Maybe so you can use it as an excuse to skip wor-“

You sneezed again, interrupting your statement, seeing through Dazai’s plan.

“Bless you ‘bella!” he replied, a bit too excited. “What were you saying?”

“I. Was-” you sneezed again. And then twice. And then thrice.

“Aw, my poor baby!” Dazai spoke in his infantile voice. “Looks like you’re super sick…don’t you worry your pretty head about that. I have a solution.”

“Yes, please,” you responded—as best as you could with him pinching your cheeks—thinking Dazai would finally get up and bring you medicine so you didn’t have to do it yourself. That was, in fact, a terrible assumption.

“You trust me so well you didn’t even wait for me to tell you!”

“Uh-”

He then proceeded to pepper your entire face with kisses.

“Get-well kisses! They work better than medicine, trust me. Because these ones are made from lo-ove~.”

“Osamu!” you shouted. “You’re really going to get sick!”

“Do you really think I care, pretty?” He moved his face so his nose was touching yours. “I’ll tell you a secret. I know why I’d get willingly sick. So that I’ll be taken care of by my favorite girl in the world-“

“You’re so stupid!” you facepalmed. “You see being ill as a reward?”

“Yeah, I’ll make you believe so by the end of the day,” he winked. “I’m not going anywhere.”

…

Thankfully, Dazai did give you medicine to clear your stuffy nose. And then he told you to stay in bed while he would prepare you…breakfast.

“Oh no,” you said, knowing well that you mostly cooked the meals for a reason. Dazai was good at many things, but there were exceptions. He wasn’t the worst cook, but he certainly wasn’t the best.

“Wait, please trust me on this one!” he pleaded before you could get up. “I promise you I won’t burn the house down.”

The brunette was staring at you with dramatic puppy-dog eyes, and you were too tired to object any further.

“You have to make sure it’s edible, too,” you glumly replied.

…

It felt like almost an hour passed. You started to get worried—was he really struggling with cooking you something? You imagined the kitchen would be a chaotic nightmare by now, and it was enough to make you want to check on him.

But the moment you decided to get up, the door opened with Dazai bringing in a bowl of hot soup. Surprisingly, you could smell the aroma—and it was good.

“You really underestimated me, ‘bella?” Dazai smirked as he placed the bowl on a portable bed tray. “Bon appétit!”

“I haven’t even tried it yet,” you smiled back. “It might be the worst soup I’ve ever had.”

It wasn’t bad. You hated to admit it, but it tasted delicious.

“The virus must’ve affected my taste buds, too,” you chuckled. “Because for someone whose forte isn’t cooking, this tastes really good.”

Dazai wiped his head with a phew! “I actually…put in a lot of effort. I wanted to make sure I did it all right for you. Sorry it took so long.”

You wanted to hug him. You found it so adorable that he had really taken his time to make you something.

“Awe, thanks, Osamu,” you responded. “This was really sweet.”

“So…do I get a few kisses and back rubs as a thank you?” he asked.

“Sorry, back rubs? I’m the one sick; you should be the one giving me them!”

…

Dazai ended up giving you the massages in exchange for continuing to cling to you without complaint. You accepted and were defeated at this point—the man really wasn’t going anywhere.

He continued to stay with you until you felt better, and very unsurprisingly he spoiled your recovery celebration by becoming sick himself.

“Heh…” he mumbled as you looked at the thermometer with a frown. Contradicting was Dazai with a large smile, despite just finding out he had a fever.

“Your turn, ‘bella!” he exclaimed. “I already called Kunikida saying I’m going to be out for another week! This almost beats a vacation.”

“Osamu!”

“What? Any time spent with you feels just as amazing. And this is just a result of how well I’ve taken care of you.”

CHUUYA wants to make your recovery as comfortable and entertaining as possible—he doesn’t want his darling feeling mopey the entire time. after all, enjoying something distracts one from the botherations of being sick, right?

You hadn’t done as much as you would’ve liked today. Unfortunately, you were sick, but not to the point where you had to visit a doctor or were stuck in bed. It was an inconvenient gray area, where you were still able to do things but accompanied by the mild symptoms of a cold.

“Nah, doll, you’re just a workaholic.”

Chuuya laughed as you pouted while trying to do your laundry. Just because you were sick didn’t mean you should skip your chores. You would probably still go to work the next day, too—as long as you weren’t dying, you’d be alright.

You sort of felt like you were, though. You were overcome by a haze of debilitation, whether you wanted to admit it or not. But you couldn’t just sit around all day.

“I’m fine though, Chuu,” you replied, but a contradicting sneeze immediately followed.

“Your nose is saying something different,” he replied, handing you a tissue. “If you’re so bored, how ‘bout we do something actually fun? And won’t exhaust the life out of you?”

“Well, what are you thinking?” you asked, curious as you wiped your nose.

…

Chuuya had you sat by the table with a bowl and a box of cornstarch.

“Out of all people, it was Q who showed me this.” You raised an eyebrow. “Don’t worry, baby, it’s not dangerous. It’s weird, but I can’t deny this entrances me.”

Chuuya poured some cornstarch into the container and added a cup of water. “It gets a little messy, but…” he started combining the contents until it became a gooey mixture.

You started giggling. You didn’t know what you were expecting, but it definitely wasn’t the sort of crafts experiment you did as a kid.

“Chuu, this is quicksand. You’ve never made it before?”

His eyes widened in surprise. “Quicksand? Nope. But look—if you play around with it, it becomes solid—isn’t that amazing? But if you let it go-“

“It turns back into liquid, yes,” you replied before you sneezed again.

“It’s so weird! What kinda manipulation is this?

You couldn’t help but laugh at how the Port Mafia executive was captivated by such a simple science project. You watched as he played around with the oobleck.

You realized you could live this day simply as well. You proceeded to make your own cool mixture as well.

“You got some on your face,” Chuuya said a little after you were finished with your venture and were washing your hands.

“Where?” you asked, about to touch your head.

“Right here,” you felt his thumb gently rub your cheek and then move around your neck to tug you closer.

“Just kidding.” He stole a kiss in its place.

…

Chuuya sat down on the edge of the bed with his guitar. It was late afternoon, and you decided for once a very needed nap. But not before your lover entertained you with one more thing.

“I’m gonna give ya a little performance.”

He strung his guitar several times and ensured everything was correctly tuned.

Your widened eyes in curiosity made his heart warm. You were so enamored with everything he did—just as he was utterly obsessed with you.

He started playing a familiar tune. Your favorite song. You immediately smiled despite your oncoming headache.

“One day, I think I’ll write my own song for you,” Chuuya said. “You work so hard, how couldn’t you be the inspiration of a ballad?”

You cherished times like these. Even though you were sick, you had the company of the soft, sweetheart side of the Mafia Executive.

FYODOR is full of surprises, and you falling ill is no exception. unexpectedly, he decides to let go of his schemes and responsibilities for the day, to make sure you’re feeling better.

He could already tell by your unusual exhaustion yesterday evening. You didn’t do anything that required more exertion than usual, and it was too frigid in the year for you to feel so hot.

Fyodor already knew you wouldn’t feel so good when you woke up the following day. Your cheeks were flushed, and your head was pounding. It even ached to sit up. It was the worst combination.

Feverishly, you sneezed. A tissue was immediately placed over your nose.

“Blow, milaya.”

You looked up at Fyodor, who was standing by the bed. His amethyst gaze fell upon you—his usual amalgam of tranquility and complacency looked a bit different today…was there a hint of concern shining through his eyes?

You took the tissue from his hands and blew your nose.

“You’re supposed to be at work, no?”

You tried your hardest not to get sick because of this reason. You would be another hassle on Fyodor’s list of endeavors. You hated the thought of contributing, especially when he was already stressed and occasionally neglected his own needs with what he already had to do.

“You would really expect me to when I had to carry you to bed last night?”

The previous evening was a blur. Sometime after dinner, the weather immediately flew over you, and all your energy just drained out.

“Ah.” You sneezed again into the tissue. “Well, I think I’ll be fine on my own. I know you have a lot on your hands. I can take care of myse-“

“Please believe me. You’re not being a burden,” Fyodor cut you off and directly addressed the point you had been dancing around. His hand found yours and started to massage your fingers. He felt ice cold against you—or perhaps, you were on fire.

“Is your throat sore? I’ll make you some tea.”

…

He didn’t leave you alone for too long. Fyodor returned with a cup of hot ginger tea that you immediately took, desperate for some relief for your throat. Your nose was quickly soothed by the warm, sharp aroma of the ginger as you held the mug close to your mouth.

If there was one thing you learned, there was a type of tea for every occasion. Fyodor had an entire cabinet dedicated to those beverages—all precisely arranged.

“Is it alright?” Fyodor asked as you sipped, the liquid alleviating the soreness in your throat.

“Yes, of course,” you replied. “Maybe after I can try to get up…” your voice trailed off as you struggled even to shift your position.

“What’s wrong?” Fyodor moved beside you again as you frowned.

“I feel really sore. Like I ran a marathon without stretching at all yesterday,” you dryly chuckled, even though that had not been the case at all. Your whole body ached; it felt uncomfortable to move anything, and you felt awfully weak.

Fyodor didn’t respond for a moment, thinking.

“You can still entertain yourself without moving. Do you want to read? I’ll bring you to the living room.”

You curtly nodded your head and picked out one of the many books on the large shelf before Fyodor carried you to the sofa in the next room.

“Stay on my lap,” he said, holding you by your waist when you tried to move away.

“I don’t want you to get sick too,” you replied, confused.

“I won’t, don’t worry. Besides, I’m doing a favor for you.”

He motioned for you to enjoy your book and not pay attention to him. So you did as he said—you flipped to the page you left off on and tried to immerse yourself in the plot.

It got easy to do so and lose track of reality because Fyodor started to massage you—hands moving in circular motions on your shoulders to ease and relax the pain on your joints.

You felt both too hot and cold alone on your bed earlier. But here, in the embrace of your lover, you could see the end of your little tunnel of fever.

“Thank you, Fedya,” you whispered sometime after.

…

He got up to do something on his own a little later, but not before tucking you into the softest blankets you owned on the couch. He admired you for a moment right after—a touch of amusement in his eyes.

“What’s so funny?” you asked with a pout. You felt like you were made into a burrito.

Fyodor had thought the same.

“Milashka,” he simply smiled.

You thought he went away to attend to the business he was able to at home—Fyodor was infamous for being a workaholic after all, but you were surprised once again when amidst your reading, you heard a melody coming from the other room. Rich and resonant, you realized he was practicing his cello.

You placed your book down and freed yourself from the warm blankets before making your way over to the next room, disregarding the dull pain that still accompanied you.

Fyodor didn’t pause as you entered and sat down on the piano’s stool. You opened the cover and placed your fingers on the keys before smoothly joining in with the composition you had secretly been learning while he was away so you could play with him.

He probably suspected it anyway, but you still smiled and felt a little pride as you harmonized with him without error—and while sick.

♬♩♫♪

There was a moment of silence after the final note. You felt at peace. The tune made you sleepy.

Fyodor stepped towards you, and you lifted your head to meet his gaze.

“You played it perfectly, lyubov,” he said before kissing your forehead. “How about a nap now as a reward?”

…

After a glass of water and an adjustment of the heater, Fyodor tucked you back under the covers. He checked your temperature with the back of his palm, and he was appeased to find that your fever had noticeably gone down.

You suddenly giggled, catching Fyodor off guard.

“Why are you giggling?”

“I had an observation,” you chirped. You wanted to tell him it was evident he had been stealing physical affection from you throughout the day and that he wasn’t sly, but alas, exhaustion had overcome you again.

You took his own hand in yours. “Wash your hands after,” you whispered before placing a kiss on his fingertips. “This was nice. I feel better because of you staying.”

AKUTAGAWA feels that the roles have been reversed because it is usually him who is sick, and you helping him get better. however, this time it’s you, and so he wants to repay all the care and love you showed him. for once, not to prove something, but to show proof of your adoration towards him.

You didn’t want Akutagawa to visit you that day. You had sent him a text earlier that you were sick—your pneumonia was so severe that you were admitted to the hospital. He immediately rushed over right after.

You told him he didn’t have to—truthfully, half of your heart didn’t want him to because of his already weakened immune system and his tendency to get sick easily.

Yet he still showed up at your bedside with a “get-better” box and pink tulips, a mask covering half his face.

“Ryu, I appreciate this so much,” you told him, a cough accompanying your statement. “But I promise you don’t need to stay—I don’t want you to get sick too.”

He didn’t respond before striding over to the sink as if he were in his own house, grabbing a vase and filling it with water. You watched him trim your flowers, place them in the container, and then putting it on the counter.

“Ryu…”

“You’re in the hospital. Do you think I could just go about my day like my girlfriend isn’t sick?”

Even though his tone was straightforward, his hand gently brushed away the hair covering your eyes.

He was visibly bothered. He hated seeing you in the hospital gown, lying on the bed. He hated the IV line attached to you and the distant beeps! of your vitals. Akutagawa went through this experience more often than not, and if not painful, it was always irritating and unpleasant.

He would never want you going through this, even once.

“Are you comfortable? Should I move you to one of the VIP rooms?”

“That’s not necessary, thank you though,” you replied. You noticed the exhaustive distress in his argentine eyes.

“I’m going to be okay, Ryu,” you reassured him. “I promise. Just don’t touch me for now.”

Akutagawa nodded. “Are you hungry? Is there anything you’re craving?”

“I want…something sweet,” you bashfully replied. “All the hospital food was savory…they missed a dessert.”

You could see the corners of his mouth slightly lift up—an unlikely smile, especially in a place like this. “No explanations are needed. I’ll be back.”

…

He returned with one of the sweets you always picked up whenever you went grocery shopping and a couple of figs for himself. Akutagawa didn’t like sugary things that much, but this fruit he could eat for days. He indeed ate one a day—you were able to observe how long he would be gone on a mission based on how many figs he brought with him.

Akutagawa had brought two today. Was he planning to stay with you overnight? You knew he hated the hospitals—he would never willingly go to one.

Yet here he was, pulling up a chair by your bedside.

“I brought a book,” he said. “Can I read to you?”

“Of course,” you replied. “I didn’t feel like using the TV here anyway, so nothing’s been entertaining.”

The onyx-haired pulled out a book from his coat.

“Once when I was six years old I saw a magnificent picture in a book, called True Stories from Nature, about the primeval forest,” he started.

When Akutagawa was sick, you often read him children’s stories to combat his restlessness. He was calmed by your voice and fell asleep faster than any over-the-counter medication ever worked.

The first time you had found him in the hospital before you were even in a relationship with him, you introduced him to The Little Prince. At first, he scoffed and turned his back the other way, pretending not to listen. But his furrowed brows relaxed, and his frown lifted as you continued with the story—the theme of the openmindedness of children compared to adults, loneliness, love, and loss all gave him something to think about.

Eventually, the book became a source of comfort and light to Akutagawa, and now he had his own copy.

"‘And now here is my secret, a very simple secret: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.’” By the time Akutagawa had gotten to that part, you had dozed off into a nap.

…

When you finally awoke, the curtains were closed, and the only source of light came from an ambient lamp on the nightstand. And in this night, you also felt a soft pressure on your legs—Akutagawa’s head. He had fallen asleep too, with the book still flipped to a page.

You felt both adoration and woe in your heart. He was sacrificing comfort and possibly his health for you. You desperately felt the need to stroke through his white-tipped raven hair, but you didn’t want to heighten any more chances.

You fell asleep again after minutes of watching your lover’s chest delicately rise and fall, just as he carried his true self without his violent front.

…

Akutagawa stayed until you woke up the following day. He went out to do some errands and then returned with a small gift for you he picked up during the day. That was the routine he followed for the next three days, always content to find you better than the previous day until you were all better.

A nurse came in with a final evaluation and discharged you. You changed into new clothes Akutagawa had brought you before running up and embracing him.

He hugged you back tightly, relieved that you were finally out. He turned to the vase of the pink tulips, which were starting to wither.

“Just in time,” he said.

“The get-well-soon flowers,” you giggled, taking your first good look at them. You loved how he knew of flower symbolism.

“Let’s get out of here,” Akutagawa said, holding out his hand for yours to take. “I despise dwelling in this place any longer.”

SIGMA is worried sick, even though you’re the one sick. how could he not, especially when he isn’t with you? are you feeling alright? drinking enough water? eating well?

“You’re sick?” Sigma asked over the phone.

“Is it my fault? I mean, I was feeling unwell last week, but I got better in a day, so I didn’t think it was that serious…”

“No, it wasn’t; please don’t worry,” you replied. You hated when your lover blamed your problems on himself. “But yeah, it sucks. I even lost my smell! I can’t smell anything.”

“Really?” You sensed his worry through the call.

“Do you need to go to a doctor? I can pick you up and take you there—or I can call the doctor to your house if you’d prefer that-“

“No, it’s okay! It’s not that serious; I’ll be fine in a few days,” you said. “I just wanted to let you know because I won’t be able to see you for a week. But don’t worry about me. I’ll update you.”

“Oh, I see,” Sigma responded. “Alright then.”

Firstly, Sigma was most definitely worried. Secondly, you couldn’t smell? He knew how much you loved the dulcet scents of the desserts he created and the delicate fragrances of your favorite flowers. You must’ve been even a little upset when you realized that sense was gone.

Of course, he wasn’t going to leave you to battle the viruses alone, despite you having just said you didn’t plan to see him until you got better. So, the part lilac, part pearly-haired immediately set out to plan a sweet surprise for you.

…

The next day, Sigma showed up at your front door with a homemade bento box and a few bags of groceries.

“What are you doing here?”

“I at least have to check if you’re eating well.”

One thing that hadn’t changed since meeting Sigma was the butterflies in your stomach feeling. He always showed nothing but ultimate consideration and compassion towards you, treating you like royalty.

“I’m trying,” you replied honestly. “Everything tastes the same. I can’t smell any of it.”

“Maybe it’ll be more appealing if the food looks nice.” With that, he walked to the dining table.

“You haven’t had lunch yet?” You nodded, expectably to him.

“Sit down, love.” He pulled out one of the chairs. You followed him, taking a seat as he prepared your meal—putting a placemat on the table and setting the bento box on top.

You opened the container, and you were revealed with an assortment of the prettiest foods. For the first time this week, you were hungry.

The ones that caught your eye the most were the rice balls decorated to look like chibi versions of you and Sigma. A part of you didn’t want to ruin something so cute.

“What—this is so cute, Sigma! You’re so creative,” you complimented him. “It’s like you cook with magic.”

You noticed Sigma’s cheeks tint a rosy pink. “T-thank you. Go ahead and eat while I prepare your dessert.”

“Dessert?” you asked as you eyed the remaining grocery bags he was holding.

“You’re going to bake here?” You weren’t complaining, but you wondered why he didn’t decide to do it at his place.

“Yeah. That way, it’ll taste the best. Everything tastes the best when it’s freshly baked.”

…

You ended up eating everything. Sigma’s cooking never failed to impress you, even for a previously sated stomach.

“I finished!” you exclaimed, earning a smile from Sigma in the kitchen.

You hadn’t paid attention to what he was making in the meantime. He had put the tray of mystery into the oven a few minutes ago, so you were unable to see what it was.

“It’ll be done in twenty minutes,” Sigma said, walking over to you and taking your hand. “Was it good?”

“Very tasty; I’m full now,” you replied, looking up at him. His ashen eyes shone a gleam of fondness once he made eye contact with you, causing him to fluster again. He was so cute—at times, Sigma still acted like a schoolboy with a crush on you.

“You know your body makes room for dessert,” he noted coyly.

He guided you to stand up, and as you did, a familiar scent softly breezed past you.

The smell of your favorite muffin—and the smell of Sigma’s kitchen. It was faint, but it was there. Your eyes widened in wonder.

“Wait, Sigma—I can smell this!”

Even though it was a bit dramatic, you were cheerful to finally be able to smell any thing after a couple of days. You spun with Sigma around the room in delight. Surrounded by the aroma that made you feel truly at home and the sunrays through the windows, you started to dance together.

“You’re sure you’re okay?” he asked, a bit concerned you were spinning around while feeling unwell.

“Yes,” you reassured him, drawing Sigma into an embrace. “I’m just thrilled right now. I think you’re cooking does have magic.”

…

The muffins were out and looked mouthwatering. Sigma took the first one from the tray and peeled down the wrapper.

“First taste is yours,” he said, taking your palm and placing the pastry in your hand.

“Today, I’ll be Sigma’s food critic,” you joked among the two of you. “He’s baked my favorite muffin—I’m rea-ally picky about this dessert, for your information. So I’m going to be really harsh on this review…”

Catching him off guard, you ate the entire sweet in one bite. You started laughing when Sigma abruptly gasped.

“Mm! That was delicious!” you declared, trying to sound like you were trying this for the first time. However, it contradicted the way you were reaching for a second one. Sigma had made this for you hundreds of times before—there was never one time you refused a muffin from him.

“Eleven out of ten!”

“And so are you,” Sigma added, bopping you on the nose. “If my cuisine does involve magic, then I hope that the food works better than medicine.”

bea’s acoustic songs are always so calming & pretty; in my mind, this is what chuuya plays for me. <3

i saw you said you were sick on the dash this month, i’m glad you’re feeling better by now/feel better soon, this is for you <3 @lovedazai @cheriiyaya @chuuyrr @osaemu @atlasnessie

i heard if you rb, your fav will give you get-well kisses until you feel better !! reblogs are cherished; they are what support me the most <3

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orikiys · 9 months

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✿ ✿ 〞voicemails with chan after an argument

✰ genre : angst, romance and fluff in between

✰ pairings : bf!chan x fem!reader

✰ word count : 0.8k+ words

one 𖨂

hey, my beautiful girl. how are you? it’s not the same without you by my side. the house looks wrecked and so am i. i am so so sorry baby for snapping at you last night. i. . . didn’t mean it. i swear. it all happened because of me and my work, and i do accept that. just come back please? i know you’re at your friend’s house but i won’t force you. ever. i just hope we can talk this out thoroughly. please? i love you very much. always know that, yeah? and i’m only a call away if you need me. good night.

two 𖨂

so i didn’t receive an answer back. does that mean you’re going to stay there for a while? alright, i respect your decisions. i always do. you know that right? anyway, today sucked. i kind of twisted my ankle while practising and i tripped over a charger and hurt my chin. it sounds painful but it was even more painful when you don’t reply to my messages, or to my calls and even my voicemails. i fucked up and i know that very well. i may sound selfish but i want you with me. i need you when i wake up and when i sleep. i want to see your face when you smile at me. how long has it been since i last saw you? over 2 weeks i suppose? if you’re listening to my voicemails, let’s meet tomorrow at our usual spot. at 3 i’ll be there. i’ll wait for you even if it takes forever.

three 𖨂

you eventually did show up. to be honest, i was surprised. i didn’t expect you to show up. but i’m glad you did. but i’m not very glad that you almost didn’t speak any other words except for ‘i need time’ and ‘alright’. it was pretty sad. then i realised how bad i must’ve hurt you for you to act this way. and i’ll say sorry a million times if you want me to. i regret ever letting you walk away like that. if only i had tried harder in our relationship we wouldn’t be at this stage where we’re unaware whether we’re together or not. i regret not understanding you earlier and spending my days at the company, rather than with you. i even started taking time out to come home early, at 8. just like you wanted. i even began sleeping on time, but i can’t help myself to fall asleep that easily without thinking how lonely you used to feel when i wasn’t here to hold you or to even talk to you. i regret everything, baby. i really do. i hope you’re happy, not skipping your meals and sleeping for good hours.

four 𖨂

i noticed something fall out of your wardrobe, and even though i respect your privacy, i couldn’t help myself. it was a letter. a letter presumably you wanted to give me, but you couldn’t. and it would be a lie if said i didn’t sit on the floor crying as i read the letter over and over till i had it memorised. you always wanted to write me letters didn’t you? what more do you have up your sleeve? how long are you going to keep impressing me and making my heart flutter like that? you might think i’m being a little too extra today, but it’s true! you can’t just go away after making me fall that deep for you. it’s been three weeks now. how long am i going to be punished? just answer me once. please.

five 𖨂

when i tell you i almost fell off the couch, you won’t believe me. but i almost didn’t believe my eyes when i saw your voicemail. why would you ever be sorry baby? you have all the right to be angry at me. i deserve it. but don’t think you did anything wrong. you just did what you thought was right. and sometimes, it’s better that way you know? like if you wouldn’t have gone away i would just return to my schedule again. i wouldn’t have realised where i was wrong. so don’t blame yourself, okay? as i said before, i’ll wait.

six 𖨂

so this is gonna be the end of all the angsty voicemails as you just called me saying you’ll be coming home tonight. i’ll prepare a welcome dinner for you along with some kisses if you would like. and hugs too perhaps? i am just on my way to clean the house and myself too. since i didn’t shower today, so i’ll see you in about 8 hours. i’m very happy that you’re coming back babe. i love you so much. and i, thank you, for giving me a second chance. i’ll be waiting for you, my love.

#ॱଳ͘#chan x reader #stray kids x reader #skz fluff #skz angst #bang chan x reader #bang chan #stray kids #chan angst #voicemails with chan #chan x you #skz x reader #skz fanfic

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hunnylagoon · 4 months

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Right Where You Left Me

Pt 2: Jailbird

Ellie Williams x reader

I want to write a poem about you but I’m afraid it won’t be enough. I almost feel ashamed that I want you to fit into a word because we both know that you are beyond anything that can be put on paper.

Premise: You and Ellie were childhood friends before you drifted apart. Funny thing about soulmates is that they tend to find there way back to each other. While you both visit home for winter break, events unfold and it is no longer possible to avoid each other.

Warnings: Angst / homophobia / brief violence / reader has religious issues

Part one here!

Part three here!

Part four here!

I may have been wrong to say that I could never hate Ellie. Fuck she was vicious, in the most passive-aggressive way too. She's so sly about it that I can't even get mad without seeming irrational.

Winter break finally rolled around and I had yet to make any progress with Ellie it was whatever the opposite of progress is. If she wanted to hate me, that was fine, I could do the same, I could be petty. It's now December and all of this bullshit started in September, she could hardly be courteous.

Fuck her.

I had survived mid-terms and finals but the way Ellie was acting had me skipping happily towards the edge. She will wash a whole sink of dishes and leave just my fork, or Venmo request me if I ate one of her grapes. Everything had gotten worse when Dina, Abby, and Cat all left to visit their families for winter break leaving just Ellie and I, without the girls there to hold us to the house rules we were at each other's throats.

She was foaming at the fucking mouth to tear me apart. There was no level-headed Abby or fun-loving Dina, not even Cat who was just mellow. Just me and Ellie verbally abusing each other. "Fuck off, with your wild animal teeth," I spat, slamming the dish cupboard closed with a loud thud.

"Wild animal teeth?" She repeats "Wow, you're getting creative, I'll give you that," Ellie's gaze held a certain bitterness "Heard you were on your knees again last night and I don't mean praying."

My eye almost twitches at her words and it takes everything in me not to throw a ceramic bowl at her. I hated her, I hated her freckled face, and eyes as sharp as knives, just hearing her raspy voice, and seeing her sardonic smile made me want to keel over and let the earth wrap me in her flourishing greenery. I often wanted that to happen. I was trying to refrain from going home as I didn't want to spend the entire break with my family but I was starting to think nothing was better than this, I was set to leave the following day (Christmas Eve) anyway but I was seconds away from grabbing my bag and jumping into my car. "Can you just learn to be fucking civil?"

"Why would-

"Because we were sixteen years old when that stupid shit happened!" I spat "You're holding a grudge from when we were sixteen," I reiterated, searching her features for some sign that I'd gotten through to her.

"It's not like you've changed since any of that happened." She stands, unnervingly calm on the other side of the kitchen island. "You were always awful since we were young, always crying, always emotional, always explosive, my dad said you're like a birch tree, one spark and you burst into flames."

"Fuck off."

"You always had to have the attention," Her eyebrows furrow "Nothing was your fault, blame being fucking erratic and insane on your parents."

"You don't know my parents half as well as you think you do."

"What don't I know about them? They've been in my life as long as you have."

"Ellie, stop," I say, suddenly I'm taken away from the mood to fight, I just want to scream into my pillow.

"What?" She asks "You're going to say some shit like 'they aren't loving' or 'you wouldn't get it' Please, enlighten me, what wouldn't I get?" She moves closer just an inch or so "Wow, your life sounds so hard, you have two parents who love each other and a huge fucking house, oh shit," Sarcasm drips from her tone "Maybe it's that trust fund that's taking a toll on you."

"Please, stop."

"You could commit every crime known to man and you would still be their pride and joy, there is nothing you could say or do that would make them hate you-

"Here we go with your 'life is so fucking hard and I'm edgy and indie and I have a sad backstory that I'll bring up every second sentence even though I was seven when it happened' " I mock her.

She bites the inside of her cheek and I can tell that I've struck a nerve "You know when my lease-

"Don't even worry about it," I move out from the kitchen and begin towards my room, Ellie's eyes are trailing me "The minute my lease is up, I'm packing my shit and moving into student housing so I won't have to look at your fucking face while I'm eating!" I slam my bedroom door behind me.

I left that night, I couldn't bear the sound of her guitar strums, so repetitive it made me want to slam my head through the drywall.

You better believe that I cried my entire way home while blasting Julien Baker. My mother was pleasantly surprised to see me at her doorstep a day early, I knew Ellie would be coming down sometime tomorrow to spend the Holidays with her family, I didn't know when, I just knew that I didn't want to see her.

I never even told my parents that Ellie was my roommate and they hadn't heard it from Joel as they drifted when Ellie and I were fifteen.

My bedroom was exactly how I left, I cuddled into my twin bed that night sinking into the absolute silence of the the snowfall, with my dog Dusty curled at my side. I always loved the snow, the way it acted as soundproofing for the earth, when I was little I would just sit in the backyard so I could hear the birds sing in their purest and truest form.

Christmas Eve was dull to begin with, to say the least; my mom made Christmas tree-shaped waffles as she did every year, I was then dragged to an excruciatingly long church sermon. When we returned home I was sent to shovel the driveway, turns out visiting home from college doesn't excuse you from chores. I knew Ellie had arrived when I saw her grey sedan in Joel's driveway as well as Tommy's Range Rover. Bundled up in mittens and a hand-knitted scarf that Naomi gave to me I felt really tough giving the middle finger to Ellie wherever she was in Joel's house.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Elijah was cackling in the doorway. Dusty I happily bounding through the snow, paying to mind to my brother.

I immediately dropped my arm, trying to play nonchalantly "Uh, shoveling the driveway?"

His laughter only grew "You look so stupid," He huffed between cackles "You're standing in a foot of snow in the driveway giving Mr. Miller's house the middle finger in your cute little mitts."

"Say that louder, no one could hear you," I say, sarcastically.

"Hear ye, hear ye-

My eyes go wide and I drop the shovel to form a snowball and deck it at my brother "Shut up!"

"Ow!" He flinches, and his track and field hoodie from high school is now covered in powdered sleet. "Whatever," He yanks his hoodie off to shake the snow off of it "Just finish the driveway so we can watch a movie or something, I haven't seen you in months, Naomi and Aaron haven't shut up about you all holiday break."

I give him a mitted thumbs up before I try to speed run the shovelling, albeit slipping on black ice more than a few times. When I came back inside, I needed to change, my parka was dripping with snow that had melted into water.

I bundle up into sweatpants and an old soccer t-shirt. Being in my old room digs up memories pinned on my wall with bright thumbtacks year after year of photos of my soccer team, in every single one Ellie and I have our arms slung over each other. We're smiling wide and not focusing on the camera but on one another. I tear the picture away from the thumbtacks and throw them into a random shoe box that sits at the bottom of my closet. After that, I take down every artifact I have of Ellie, the drawings she made me, drafts of songs we wrote together, and t-shirts she left in my drawers, I throw it all into a Rubbermaid storage bin.

Though I leave the little wood carvings that Joel made for me alone.

My family's famous Christmas Eve dinner rolled around and I couldn't believe how excited I was, I'm not the best cook and despite me and my mother going through spats every other day, she was one hell of a good chef and I had spent months craving her honey roasted carrots and creamy mashed potatoes.

Please don't judge me when I say this, but we are the family that dresses up for dinners at home. Nothing black tie, just something a little dapper, one time I wore jeans to our family dinner and I was grounded for a week.

I finished zipping up my white sundress and I let my little sister tie a matching bow into my hair, when she saw what I was wearing she changed into her white dress which was ankle length while mine fell right above my knees.

"Oh, my sweet girls are matching again," My mom fawns over us "Let me get a picture of this cute little moment," I smile for the picture, and Naomi does the same, hooking an arm around my midriff. "Adorable," Mom looks at the picture before tucking her phone into her pocket "Now girls, please set the table."

Even though I hadn't been at home for months, setting the table was like muscle memory to me, Naomi put the placemats down, and then I did the dinner plate and salad plate, Naomi would place the napkins and cutlery then I would set glasses and pour everyone water from the pitcher. By the time we finished setting the table everyone aside from my mother and Elijah were at the table, early awaiting what was sure to be a filling dinner.

Slowly but surely my mom brought the dishes with Elijah, placing them all through the center of the dining table. After everything was placed my father, who sits at the head of the table cleared his throat, that was his signal for everyone to join hands. "Dear God, We gather today with grateful hearts to thank you for this food before us. We appreciate the effort and resources that have provided us with this nourishment. May this meal sustain our bodies and remind us of the many blessings in our lives. We are thankful for the love of family and friends who surround us and for the abundance we enjoy. Bless this food, our time together, and those who prepared it. May it strengthen us physically and spiritually. This is your body, this is your love. We thank you for feeding us with your gracious hands. In Jesus' name, we give thanks and pray. Amen."

"Amen," My family repeats before we all ravishingly fill our plates with chicken, maple-roasted mushrooms, buttered green beans, bread rolls, and mashed potatoes. I was eating so fast, I was shocked that I didn't spill anything on myself.

"So, have you met any cute boys at college?" My mother asks me, she is the only one eating politely "I'm sure you could get a real smart guy with those looks of yours."

My father nods "Just make sure he's Christian."

"Or catholic," My mother adds.

I laugh awkwardly in response, I take a sip of my water, the condensation making it slippery in my hands. Elijah gives me an odd look that goes unnoticed by my parents.

"I think we should drop off some bread or cookies or something to the Miller's, just something to say hi while Tommy and Maria are still there." My mom tells us, she isn't speaking to anyone in particular.

"Is Ellie there right now?" Aaron asks.

Elijah shrugs "Probably, her car is in the driveway."

Now Naomi is looking at me "We should invite her over for New Year's or something if she's staying for the rest of break."

My dad shakes his head "I don't know if that's a good idea," All eyes fall on him "It's just- I think she's a bit of a bad influence." He takes a swig of his wine and attempts to suppress a burp but fails. I press my lips into a thin line and look down at my plate to hold in my laughter, Elijah does the same beside me.

"I don't remember Ellie being a bad influence," Aaaron furrows his eyebrows, racking his brain to think of a time that she had done their family wrong.

"It's just that there were rumours of her having-" My father searches for the words "Unnatural tendencies I suppose, and I tried to talk to Joel about it but he got defensive and said that she didn't need fixing, that's how I lost my best fishing buddy."

My mom looks at the discomfort on all of her children's faces "I mean, we all need a bit of fixing."

Dad is quick to catch on "Oh, yeah, of course, I mean it's not just Ellie," He fumbles over his words "And it's not her fault that she's that way, I think It's because she lost her mother when she was young so she got confused about the parental roles, Joel never remarried and he didn't date around much so Ellie didn't have a proper mother figure, it's not her fault she's a dyke and there's still time to fix it if she wants to choose the right path."

Stillness falls over the table, I had never heard silence quite this loud. Even my mother is at a loss for words. All of my siblings are darting our eyes at one another, we don't utter a single word but we understand each other clearly 'Dad actually said it'.

He noticed this and tried to backtrack on his words "I'm not a bad guy, I mean we've all read the bible cover to cover, we know it's a sin. I'll wrap this up, you all know that we love you no matter what and all I'm saying is I'm glad we could distance ourselves away from it."

"Hey Dad, did you watch the Canucks game last week?" Elijah swoops in to change the topic. It's too late, a wave of sickness has already overtaken me.

While my family discusses nothing in particular, trying to ignore what Dad said, I am sick to my stomach, I push my plate away and prop my elbow the the table for my hand to support my head. I am nearly shaking. My dull eyes peer across the table and meet my father's drowsy gaze.

"Honey, are you feeling alright?" My mom pauses whatever conversation she is enwrapped in.

I don't respond, I don't know how.

My family's eyes find a resting place on my figure. Mom pushes herself away from her chair and walks over to me, she places one hand between my shoulder blades, the other takes my cold hand and she slowly rubs a circle on my back to comfort me. "Sweetness, whatever is repressed inside, say it, let it out, we're all family."

Naomi nods in agreement, her wide eyes full of concern. "I don't know how to say it," I tell them.

"Air it out," My dad says, finishing off his glass of wine and pouring himself another "Today is the perfect day, tomorrow is the birth of Jesus, a fresh start."

My heart is racing faster than it ever has before, faster than when I broke my wrist in Ellie's backyard or when I had been on a rollercoaster for the first time. "I like girls," I say, my voice is quiet, and my three words take my family with silence. My mother freezes and takes a step back, her comforting hands leaving me.

"You're joking," My dad scoffs "Tell me this is a joke and you're normal."

"I can't," My voice cracks and I can already tell that the tears are oncoming. I think briefly back to Ellie's words 'There is nothing you could say or do that would make them hate you' if only she could see what was about to happen.

"All of those sleepovers with Ellie?" He is disgusted, his face contorting with horror "Were you dating her?"

"no-

"How can I believe anything you say, you lied to us for nineteen years when you knew you were sick."

"Dad, I'm not sick-

"How many sinful acts have you done under this roof?"

"None, I swear," I shake my head, it took less than a minute for me to be filled with regret at my words. I shouldn't have even come home for the holidays, actually, I never should've found Dina's listing and jumped at the deal.

"Get out," Any light tone in my dad's voice is gone, replaced by pure resentment.

"What?"

"You heard me, get out."

"Dad, it's Christmas Eve-

"Get out!" His voice rumbles through the dining room like thunder "I thought we fixed this phase when we sent you to boarding school."

"Please, dad-

"Get up and get out or I'm going to make you,"

"Fine- make me," Tears prick in my eyes but I cross my arms trying to muster up that false coolness Ellie is so good at feigning.

My dad slams his glass down so hard that it shakes the table, and the partially empty wine bottle my parents had been nursing all night is knocked over by the abruption, tipping over the deep red liquor to travel down the tablecloth and drip onto what was once my pure white dress. "Get up!" He grabs a fistful of my hair and I scream from the shock of pain. He yanks me off my chair and my face slams against the hardwood when his arm slumps, impact heavy from the sudden drop, it doesn't take long for my nose to start bleeding. He drags me to the door pushing it open; my siblings don't do anything they're petrified in horror and my mother begins to cry, covering her eyes from the scene before her.

My dad doesn't stop at the door, I thrash on the ground and he pulls me over both of my hands trying to pry his away from the roots of my hair, he drags me into the snow, finally releasing me. I shake as my hand gently finds the way to my burning scalp where I fully believe he has pulled out clumps of my hair with his harsh and unforgiving grasp.

From the doorway the rest of my family watches, Naomi has a hand covering her mouth her doe eyes brimming with tears of her own. My father disappeared into the house, it didn't take long to see what he was doing he slammed the window to make the bedroom open and began to throw all of my belongings out of the window. My pictures, my old soccer uniform, armfuls of clothes from my old beaten dresser, candles, books, paints, and shredded posters were torn straight off my wall.

"Dad, stop, I'm sorry, I'll get better!" I am on my knees, hands clasped together pleading with him. My skin is burning from the contact with the snow, I know that it must be a horrific sight to behold. White sundress, stained with wine, tangled hair, red-tinged skin, puffy eyes and incoherent sobs.

The snow makes everything so quiet the only sound travelling through the night are my sobs. I can no longer see my father in my bedroom, he is coming back down and somehow that is worse, he pushes past my family and throws the presents I was supposed to receive on Christmas morning beside me, I flinch at the movement.

"I'm sorry!" I plead like I'm bargaining with the Grimm Reaper for my life "Give me a job and I'll do it, just tell me what to do to get better!" The screaming carries through the night, alerting the neighbours in what was supposed to be a calm and quiet neighbourhood. Across the street, Joel turns on his porch light, squinting his eyes at the scene on the opposing lawn and trying to make sense of it. "I want to get better!" I shake with every sob. I could hear my dogs barking from the loud noises.

My dad shakes his head "You're too far gone, I didn't raise a fucking dyke," He is almost crying himself, he doesn't mourn for the daughter that he has but the daughter that could've been. The daughter who donned white every Sunday for church and settled down with a nice family man, a daughter who was holy but in this moment I am the purest form of holiness, born again from the violence of my father.

"Dad, I was created in God's image, why would he create his child to be this way if it was so wrong?"

"You're a fucking mistake is what you are," He seethes "Get off my property or I'm calling the cops."

"You still have my bags!" I scream and I watch him retreat to get them "Are you going to do anything at all?" I search my family for any sign of life but they all avert their eyes from mine. My father comes back out, and he throws my purse and suitcase on the lawn, this time both of them hit me, talking about kicking someone when they're down.

My dad begins to usher the family inside "I never want to see you again, get your ass up and start working, I'm not paying for you to fuck around with women instead of getting an education."

"That's it?" I cry "You won't come to my wedding or meet my kids? What about my funeral?"

"Not as long as you're with a woman." With that, he slams the door behind him and locks it. I let out another guttural sob, I've already cried so much that it's beginning to hurt within my stomach. I take a deep and shaky breath in, wiping the tears away from my eyes with my freezing hands, I'm sure to catch hypothermia if I don't warm up. I look up to see my neighbours all around either watching from their window or in the Miller family's case, the front porch. I'm sure that someone has already called the police.

"Let me in, I'm sorry!" I scramble off the ground and begin to bang on the door. Shaking the handle "Let me in!" This goes on for longer than I would've liked, I hammer on the door and scream as loud as I can but they all ignore me. Eventually, I stand by the window and slam my hands on it "Let me in or give me my fucking dog, you can't take care of him!"

I knew I was fucked when I heard sirens. It only made sense for the neighbours to call the cops at this disturbance.

I'm going to do you all a favour and tell you some useful information; when the police arrive and you don't wanna seem guilty, don't try to drive away from the scene because you might just end up getting handcuffed and shoved into the back of a police car for your childhood bestfriends family to watch from their front row seats.

"Prison life isn't for me," I wallow as I press myself against the bars of the holding cell. There are two other women in the cell with me and they both snigger. One of their names is Lucia, and she has bronze skin and brown hair so dark that it almost looks black with gold hoop earrings the size of my head, I don't know the other woman's name but she looks significantly older and has stringy blonde hair, the wrinkles of her face drooping.

"Honey, this isn't prison, you'll live another hour," Lucia sits on the uncomfortable bench, her arms crossed, she's kind of hot to be blunt.

"You reek of liquor though," Blondie cackles and I catch a glimpse of her rotting yellow teeth, what's the opposite of pearly whites? Golden nuggets? Something like that.

"Because I got wine spilled on me," I retort. I had been crying before they even placed me in the cell, wailing so loud that I was annoying the officers. I was so upset and starved for affection that I hugged the officer who detained me, babbling incoherently about how my life was ruined, I don’t even blame them for arresting me, I looked like a crackhead trying to break into a nice suburban home. “I'm not drunk."

"Could've fooled me," Lucia smirks, she's wearing a black tank top and skinny jeans. I wasn't a fan of skinny jeans but she was converting me.

I fell asleep hugging myself on one of the uncomfortable metal benches with chipped blue paint, when I woke up, it was Christmas, even though it didn't feel like it. I saw the snowfall outside of the windows on the other side of the cells. Lucia had told me just before she was released that they had the right to hold you longer over holidays, I wanted to weep all over again.

Blondie got removed from the cell too and I was all alone. The only thing that kept me sane was pretending I was Katniss or Lucy Gray, if they had survived the Hunger Games, I could survive this. I genuinely thought my life was over and I was getting sent to prison for hammering on my dad's door and screaming.

With each hour that ticked by, my profound sense of loneliness only grew. The sounds of distant laughter flitted through the hall and I am reminded of the world that lies beyond the metal bars. I wonder what my family is doing at this moment, every voice that I hear acts as a reminder of the love I had jeopardized. I lost Ellie, I lost Conner, and now I had lost my family.

I think about praying to god for a moment though I discard the thought. If he was real why did he let that happen to me? Maybe forgiveness and redemption were not necessary.

"Crybaby, call someone to pick you up," Officer Reid who initially arrested me and interrogated me began to unlock the cell, "Charges are dismissed." He had been calling me Crybaby since I was stuffed in the back of the police car and wailing uncontrollably.

"Like for real?"

He was in fact, for real. I was brought to a landline phone and my hands acted faster than my head, dialling the number of someone I would trust with my life, I just prayed that the number hadn't changed.

After making my call I was told to go to a weird booth thing to collect my effects, where an old and very judgmental woman dumped my few belongings out of an envelope. I wish I knew the technical names for this stuff but it's not like I've been arrested before this one off occasion. She looked at each of the items, stating what it was while she took inventory of it. "Smartphone, lipgloss, a single gold earring, and a cross necklace," She marks something down and then turns the paper around and holds out a blue pen for me to take "Sign here."

My phone had died already, I was missing an earring, and the cross had failed me, all I had left to rely on was my cover girl lipgloss. I sat in that stark grey room for what seemed like hours, everyone seemed miserable as I am, at least I wasn't the only person having a not-so-merry Christmas.

Holy shit, I was still disgusting. I was sticky and freezing, still in the wine-ruined white dress, there was still dried blood on my face despite my pestering Lucia to help me get it off. My hair is tangled, the bow that my sister had tied in lost somewhere in the snow. I haven't looked in a mirror but I know I look rough from the side glances that everyone is casting me. I can't imagine the dark bags beneath my red, puffy eyes to be any sort of appealing.

The sterile waiting room is beginning to get on my nerves, I flinch at every movement and hold onto hope that every person walking through the door is the person I'm waiting on. I try my best to avert my eyes from the clock so time doesn't drag on any longer than it already is.

By the time Joel gets here, the sun is beginning to set, his eyes frantically search the room until they land on me, I'm already standing up and walking toward him. "Kiddo, are you okay?"

My lip quivers and it feels like every awful thing I've ever felt is going to seep through my teeth. My head falls onto his chest but this time I don't cry, I think I've run out of tears "I have nothing ahead of me."

Joel doesn't ask questions, he just hugs me in return, resting his chin on the top of my head, there is the comfort I had been so desperately searching for.

He signs release papers and he guides me to his red Ford Explorer. When I called him I asked him to bring me shoes as I was barefoot when I was detained, being the number one dad that he was, he brought a reusable grocery store tote bag, containing a hoodie, sneakers, fuzzy socks, sweatpants and a bag of my favourite chips. I slip the sweats on underneath my dress while the hoodie goes overtop, I awkwardly unzip it and shimmy it off, stuffing it into the tote bag.

The drive back to his house begins and he turns on the radio, trying to make lighthearted chatter "Thanks for coming to get me," I say, my voice is quiet and I pull my knees to my chest like as I tend to do when I get nervous "You can just drop me off at my car and I'll be out of your way."

"Sorry, kiddo," He says, eyes focused on the road "You're staying with me tonight, I don't want you driving these roads in the dark and it'll be good for you to have a hot shower and a warm meal, get some sleep somewhere that's not a holding cell."

"It's just that-

"If you still want to leave in the morning that's up to you but you shouldn't end your Christmas alone," Each word seems so genuine "And you know I would gladly have you stay with me three hundred and sixty-five days a year."

I look at him, a soft melancholic smile on my face, "Thank you," I say.

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

A sigh falls from my lips "What happened to all of my stuff that was left on the lawn?"

"Tommy and Ellie brought it all inside."

Ellie brought it back inside? Did she actually give a shit or was this something her dad ordered her to do? "Did my dad say anything to you?"

Joel shakes his head "Maria went barging on his door, those two were in a screaming match for a good two minutes before he locked the door on her. Hasn't been outside since, everyone in the neighbourhood has been coming by to ask what happened."

"Even Sharron?" I ask Joel, wrinkling my nose in distaste.

"Even Sharron," He solidifies. Sharron was the grouchy crone of the street, shutting down every party, cussing out teenagers from her porch, and yelling at barking dogs "She said she was worried about you." The windshield wipers painted rhythmic patterns across the glass, clearing a path through the soft snow that continued to fall.

"She's not worried about me, she's worried I'm on drugs and I'll break into her musty home to steal all of her hummels."

Joel huffs a laugh "I can't believe that I used to let her babysit you and Ellie."

"Me neither, you should be paying for my therapy." I tease.

He chuckles at my words, "So you're majoring in wildlife biology?"

"You remembered what I wanted to major in?"

"Of course I did."

"Hey, Mookie!" Tommy wraps his arms around me the moment I set foot in the door. He's called me Mookie since I was a little girl, it started when I couldn't pronounce monkey and thus Mookie was born. "Let me get a good look at you," He pushes me back just the slightest hands clasped on my shoulders "Look at that bruise you've got on your cheek, looking awful tough, like those greasers you used to read about."

"Look at that, Mookie grew up," Maria greets me with a warm smile, pushing Tommy away to hug me "Good to see you made it through prison alive," She jests.

Joel's house is exactly how it was when I left.

The air carried the familiar scent of firewood and lavender incense. In the living room, an inviting fireplace stood as the heart of the home. Its gentle crackle and the dancing flames provided a soothing backdrop to the overstuffed couches adorned with cozy blankets and throw pillows, worn from years of shared family movie nights. A well-loved rug covered the wooden floor, its pattern a mosaic of memories and spills easily forgiven and of course, a coffee table hand-crafted by Joel and intricately carved.

The shelves lining the walls were a treasure trove of family history. Photographs in mismatched frames captured smiling faces frozen in time, chronicling the evolution of Ellie through the years. A collection of well-read books, their spines creased and pages worn, stood proudly, offering a glimpse into the literary adventures that had unfolded within those walls.

The kitchen, the heart of many childhood homes, held the lingering aroma of Christmas dinner. The countertops, scarred from countless meals prepared and shared, were a testament to the love that had gone into creating family dinners. A worn wooden table in the center of the room bore witness to the countless conversations, celebrations, and moments of solace shared over shared meals.

"You know what, when I was around your age, I spent my fair share of time in the cooler, good to see you're taking after me," Tommy winks and gives me a hard pat on the back. Neither of them acknowledges the reason behind last night's events and somehow it feels worse than talking about it.

"We've just finished up making dinner, I'm sure you're hungry," Maria smiles softly, taking my hand into her calloused one.

"Yeah, I'm starving," I smile in return and trail behind the blonde woman to the dining table.

All of the plates are laid out with portions of food on each one, Ellie is sitting alone, spooning mashed potato into her mouth while she texts someone, she glances up at me and offers nothing more than a tight-lipped smile and awkward wave before going back to her phone. Tommy comes by with a tray of garlic butter rolls and uses tongs to add more onto my plate "Don't think I've forgotten how much you love these."

I grin up at him, I'm sitting in the same chair I sat in all those years ago when I Ellie and I would settle down after spending all day in the sun, Joel would ask us what we wanted for dinner and almost every time we would shout hotdogs.

"Good to have you back," Joel nods to me "House always felt a little empty without you."

I always felt a little empty without this house "Good to be back," I smear some mashed potato onto Tommy's famous garlic butter bread rolls.

I feel almost sick with nostalgia as I look around the dining room, Joel still had Ellie's crafts from elementary school hung up and if you look closely, you find little clues that I've left behind; proof that I once existed as a girl beneath this roof. There's a dent in the wall from the time I stood on my chair to catch a spider and accidentally fell over, my head hitting right into the wall, Ellie was laughing too hard to help me.

"So what school do you go to?" Maria asks me, washing down her pot roast with some ice water.

"Northridge actually," At my words, Ellie's head perks up, she's looking dead at me with a look of fear in her eyes.

"Oh, Ellie goes there!" Tommy smiles "She never mentioned that you do too."

Ellie is silently pleading with me, I know she doesn't want me to tell her family that she's been borderline tormenting me as my roommate and sending me to bed with tears in my eyes. I didn't plan on telling them anyway "That's funny, I guess we just keep missing each other."

Joel set up an air mattress in Ellie's room, that's when it became clear to me that he had no idea just how bad the fallout was between us. I hate to say that I missed her room and all of the memories we shared in it.

Ellie's bedroom resembled something of a teen guy who'd never gotten laid before. She had a navy comforter, her shelves were lined with comics and novels, I know for a fact that she'd read every single one of them. Her desk was always a mess, covered in pages of poetry and sketches that she had torn out from her journal. Almost every inch of her walls is covered in posters of bands, movies and her nerdy video games.

I was fresh out of the shower, finally in my clean clothes that I had dug out of my suitcase. I got to charge my phone too, there was an overwhelming number of messages.

D-Manz: HAPPY CHRISTMAS BITCH!!!!!!!!! I LOVE YOU AND CAN'T WAIT TO PARTY WHEN WE GET BACK

Jesse: Merry Christmas, hope your day isn’t shit! 😁😁😁

Riley: Merry Christmas! Hope you're having fun at your new school!

Abs: Merry Christmas and stay safe!

Kayla: Missing you girl ☹️ so excited for that staff party!

Kit-Cat: Merry Christmas, don't have too much fun without me

Yara: Merry Christmas ❤️ this probably isn't the time but I was hoping you could send over your notes from the last conservation lecture, just wanna text you before I forget!

566-460-4374: I got your number from Kyle, this is Roderick, I saw you last night and wanted to check up on you, hope everything is okay and merry Christmas.

Lindsey: Hey, haven't talked to you in a while but my parents said some stuff went down, just wanna make sure you're okay.

Ellie: Lmk if you need a ride back to our place

Ellie: Don't know if you can even see this but I got all of your stuff off the lawn, I promise it's safe 👍

Naomi: I'm so sorry

Naomi: I didn't think that would happen

Naomi: I didn't know what to do

Naomi: I love you

Aaron: U good?

Naomi: Please don't hate me, I'm sorry I didn't do anything

Elijah: Sorry but I wish you didn't tell Dad that

Naomi: I'll try to talk to Dad

Elijah: Hope you're safe

Elijah: Call me when you can

Still, there wasn't any word from either of my parents. I replied returning well wishes and assuring everyone that I was okay, I turned my phone onto Do Not Disturb and began to watch the Hunger Games on my phone. The room would've been pitch black if it wasn't for the blue light from my screen and the gentle beams of moonlight gliding through the window.

Ellie walks into the room after she finishes with her shower, she's in sweatpants and an old hoodie that she got from a rodeo, I had the same one, and we bought them together. I glance up at her before looking back at my movie and pulling the quilt further up my body. "You still like the Hunger Games?"

"Yeah," I say, being as brief as possible.

"You should take my bed and I'll sleep on the air mattress," Ellie says while she ties her hair into a low ponytail.

"I'm fine here, thanks."

"Seriously," Ellie is standing awkwardly at the foot of her bed, waiting for me to do something.

I shut my phone off and turned on my other side to face away from her "Just go to bed."

Ellie runs her hands down her face in frustration, she's starting to feel like an asshole "Please take the bed, it's the least I can do." I ignore her so she speaks again "I am begging you," She tells me bluntly "I feel like a dick and it would make me feel better if you just took the bed."

"You are a dick," I answer, she should've seen this response coming from a mile away.

"Please take the bed."

I sit up to look at her, frustration now boiling up inside of me "You're going to be nice now because you feel bad for me?"

"That's not why-

"It is actually," I tell her "This will last for a few days and then we'll go home and you'll be a cunt all over again, fucking keeping a list of everything I lay a finger on so you can say it's my fault if it breaks." She bites the inside of her cheek, that's her tell. Every time she does that I can tell that I've gotten under her skin. "You'll still act like you don't know me and I'm just some weird girl who thinks the world of you, I know what you say to those girls you have over, the walls aren't that thick." My insides ache from all of the screaming and crying of the past couple of days "And I know that I hurt you and I've told you a million times over that I'm sorry, you don't get to start having empathy for me now."

Ellie's silent again, she can't seem to find the words, so instead she slips under the covers of her bed, giving up. Minutes pass us, we've slept in this room together a thousand times but this time it's different, we don't share her queen bed and stay up all night watching the walking dead and talking shit about people at our school, we lay in the uncomfortable silence. We're grown but in this moment I still feel like a child searching for her mother's hand to guide her, I feel like my teeth still need to fall out so brighter, stronger ones can take their place, that the baby fat has yet to shed from my bones.

"I didn't know that you liked girls," Ellie said, breaking the silence "And I shouldn't have assumed that stuff about your parents." I don't respond to her, though she knows that I heard her. "I lied that night when you moved in."

"What?"

"I got all bitchy and said that you don't even cross my mind, I was lying," She's confessing to me as if I'm a priest "There wasn't a day that went by where I didn't think about you."

I'm not doing well.

I want nothing more than to crawl into bed next to Ellie and just hug her until I fall asleep but the resentment I've garnered for her these past months refrains me.

"I don't know if you ever knew this, but back in high school I had a bit of a crush on you," She says and my break hitches in my throat "Hey, you there?"

'I don't know if you ever knew this but I turned myself inside out trying not to be in love with you.' I don't say that, instead, I say "Goodnight, Ellie, Merry Christmas."

"Goodnight," She mutters, and like me, she turns her body to face away from me.

I don't feel mature in the slightest, I'm kept awake, haunted by shame and embarrassment. Ellie had seen me only one night prior, on my knees begging for love. We may be cold and calculated to one another now but I remember when she was a little girl who overwatered her plants because she didn't know how to stop giving.

TAG LIST I just tagged whoever wanted a part two: @elliesaesp @yalaysbee @laundrybag29 @readbydayana @elliesaturnsoftdrink @mikellie @melanie-watermelon @skylerwhitwyo

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the-boy-meets-evil · 4 months

Text

a new home for the holidays | ljh

(where you can't go home for the holidays and end up having a much better christmas than you expect.)

pairing: jihoon (woozi) x afab!reader genre: acquaintances to lovers, christmas!au | fluff & smut rating: explicit word count: 10.5k warnings: lots of mentions of christmas (including decorating, family, cooking, etc.), if the holidays are too much please skip this, mentions of family issues, reader can't go home for the holidays (and they actually like christmas), no gendered pronouns used for reader, mentions of past death (family member woozi mentions), woozi owns the house where reader rents a room but there are no power dynamics, explicit and implied smut, woozi is kinda grumpy, reader is super bummed about christmas, woozi ends up being a secret softie smut warnings: lots of kissing, thigh riding, nipple play, marking if you squint, slight begging, two ass slaps, oral (reader rec.), fingering (reader receiving), overstimulation, squirting, briefest handjob, unprotected sex (don't do this), implied aftercare, implied morning after sex

author's note: this is for @k-vanity's 25 tips for surviving the holidays and the final prompt is christmas. i don't really have anything to say for myself. this is not what i'm supposed to be writing and it kinda just happened. merry christmas (if you celebrate) and happy holidays. i've already had christmas dinner, so if you see any mistakes, blame it on the drinks.

The holidays are your favorite time of year. Always have been. Nothing has really changed over the years. You moved away for work and fell in love with a new city. Now you just get to have twice the holiday cheer. You decorate your space in the house you live in with friends (and the grumpy house owner who’s resisted most of your attempts to be friends). Then, you go back to visit family when it gets closer to Christmas. It’s been a really great system. You’re just as excited this year as every other year.

Until your plans change. It’s only the day before you’re supposed to fly back home when your dad calls to let you know that he and your mom are sick. They know that you have a lot of post-Christmas plans (New Years, school work, and even a trip) and they don’t want to risk getting you sick as well. They insist that you can still come back, if you want, but warn you that they’ll have to keep their distance. You spend a lot of time thinking about it (read: talk it over exhaustively with your closest friends) before deciding that you’re just going to stay put for the holidays. You can plan another time to catch up with your family and have a time-shifted Christmas. After all, you think of the holidays as more of a feeling than a specific date on the calendar. You can find something to keep you busy for the 25th.

A couple of your friends invite you to come and spend Christmas Eve or Christmas Day with them, but you decline. You appreciate the sentiment, and really consider it in at least one case, but it just doesn’t feel right. Your family has so many traditions that it feels weird to consider dropping in on someone else’s. Besides, you won’t be alone in the house. (Even if Jihoon, who owns the house and rents out rooms, isn't always the friendliest. And doesn’t seem to enjoy Christmas at all.)

It’s four days before Christmas. You’re sitting in the living room aimlessly scrolling through your phone while you wait for Jun and Minghao to come downstairs. The three of you were all supposed to be heading to the airport together today, but now you’re just going to be driving them so they don’t have to pay for a ride. A sound makes you look up before you realize it’s not nearly enough noise for Jun, who can’t seem to go anywhere without being too loud. Instead, Jihoon only nods at you before he settles into an armchair on the other side of the room with a book. After a few minutes, you hear the telltale giggles of one of your best friends as he rushes down the stairs. Jun is through the door first, followed by an exasperated Minghao. Nevertheless, you see the signs he’s trying to fight his smile. You stand to meet them at the doorway.

“Bestie,” Jun signsongs when he reaches you. Throws his arms around you for good measure. “Are you sure you don’t want to come?”

“Jun, for the last time, we were supposed to leave for the airport 45 minutes ago,” Minghao sighs. “There wouldn’t be time to pack.”

“Details, we’ve got plenty of time,” Jun waves off.

“And last minute plane tickets are insane,” Minghao adds.

“Less insane with a travel credit,” Jun supplies, undeterred.

“Jun, please, we really need to leave,” Minghao begs.

“Are you not going home?” Jihoon asks. He’s so quiet when he moves that you didn’t even hear him stand up to join your group.

“Oh, no, I guess I forgot to let you know,” you start. You didn’t. Jihoon scares you a little. He’s nice enough and he’s great as a landlord, if you can even call him that, but you’re not really friends.

“You don’t have to let me know,” he huffs out.

“I decided not to go home this year. Both my parents are sick and I don’t want to catch it too, so we’re timeshifting the holidays,” you say.

“So it’s just you two in the house for Christmas,” Jun says brightly as he throws an arm around Jihoon. “Take good care of my bestie, okay?”

“It’s fine, Jihoon, I’m not expecting you to do anything with me,” you say before he can even open his mouth.

“But…” Jun starts and you turn him around before he can finish.

“Come on, before we give Hao an aneurysm. Do you need help getting your stuff outside?” you ask.

“Bless you,” Minghao mutters as you’re wrangling your best friend out of the house.

Once you’re back at the house, all you want to do is lay in your bed. It was a lot of work to pretend everything was fine while taking Jun and Minghao to the airport. Traffic was bad getting back, so you didn’t really have it in you to break down. Now that you’re home and in your room, the tears don’t come. It’s not who you are. It sucks that you’re not going home for the holidays, but it’s still the holidays and you can still make the most of it. Maybe. Somehow.

Somewhere in the house, you hear a door close loudly. Probably just Jihoon since everyone else has left. For a moment, you consider going downstairs to see what he’s up to. But, again, you’re not really friends. Moving seems like too much effort, anyway. You flop back onto your bed and get comfortable. Wait until you’re hungry to actually leave your room to find something to eat. You’re probably going to need more groceries before Christmas, because you still want to make some of your favorites, but you probably have enough for something to eat tonight. When you walk into the kitchen, you smell something delicious. There’s a big pot on the stove with the burner on beneath it.

You’re just about to lift the lid when Jihoon comes back into the kitchen. “Leave it.”

“Oh, sorry!” you gasp, surprised by his appearance and unsure of the tone.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says. “I just don’t wanna fuck it up.”

“That’s a big pot of soup,” you say.

“Yeah, I figured you might be hungry,” he says, like it’s the most logical thing in the world.

“Oh!” you say.

“I mean, I don’t know if you like Chicken Ramen soup, it’s a little spicy, but I like it around this time of year,” Jihoon says. He looks a bit awkward and unsure.

“That sounds really nice, actually,” you admit. “You don’t mind sharing?”

“No, I wanted to share,” he assures you. “It’ll be done soon.”

With a nod, you go to sit down at the kitchen table. The silence isn’t totally comfortable, but it’s not uncomfortable either. Not exactly. This is already shaping up to be the most time you’ve spent alone with him, if you end up eating together. It makes you wonder more about him. He seems really focused as he cleans up around the kitchen. His black hair is the longest you can remember seeing it, falling around his face as he leans over. It’s almost soft to watch him brush it out of his face.

As you’re sitting there waiting for the soup to finish, you realize that you don’t know much about him at all. Even though you’ve lived in this house almost two years, he’s still very much a mystery. You know that the house has been in the family for a long time and he was the only one who was willing to take the project of managing it on. Or that’s what you think he said once. Someone, maybe a cousin or friend or something, thought he was a bit crazy for renting rooms out like this. But, it’s a massive house and he’s single. (There are 6 bedrooms, all with attached bathrooms, multiple living rooms, and an office that he uses for himself. The house is paid off so the rent goes towards things like property taxes, maintenance plans, and anything else that comes up.) You know he also produces music, though you’ve never heard any of it. Not that anyone has, he’s very private and doesn’t even share what name he produces under.

It’s clear when he brings each of you a bowl of soup that he’s expecting the food to do the talking for him. It’s cute and also puzzling at the same time. How does someone who wants to speak through something like making soup have a successful career as a producer? You shake the thought away and make conversation yourself. Most of what you get are short answers, but it’s something. And you definitely learn more about him. He deflects a little when you ask about his family, prefers to turn it around so you can talk about yours. Which you don’t really mind, even if it’s a little sad to think you won’t get to see them.

“Hey, I was thinking I might go and see about getting more decorations for the house tomorrow. Is that okay?” you ask when you’re finished eating.

“You really like Christmas, don’t you?”

It’s not really an answer, which makes you look up to find something of a smile on his face. Maybe a little teasing behind the smile. “Yeah, I just really like the joy of it all.”

“I don’t mind. There also might be some stuff in the attic that I can pull out,” he says as he stands to clear the dishes.

“That would be better than braving the crazies,” you say.

“Come on, I’ll show you how to get up there,” he says. Doesn’t even check if you’re following him before leaving the kitchen.

You scramble to your feet to catch up to him. Truthfully, you didn’t even know the house had an attic. It isn’t surprising. It’s an old house, but still. This is just another small thing that you feel like helps you better unwrap the mystery of Lee Jihoon. Upstairs, he opens the closet and pulls out a hook to unlatch a door in the ceiling just outside of Minghao’s room. Huh. You’ve never even noticed it, not that you’re outside this room often. To your further surprise, Jihoon flicks on a switch and then climbs up the ladder into the attic. Once again, you follow close behind him.

There are a lot of boxes in the attic, mostly labeled with names or rooms or both. You figure they probably belong to relatives. Or maybe past renters. In any case, it seems best to not bother asking. Especially since he’s making a beeline to one corner. You fight the urge to laugh. So much for thinking there were decorations up here. By the way he walks, you can tell he knows exactly where they are. It’s worth it, though, because there are about a dozen boxes with garlands, ornaments, wreaths, and other various knickknacks. Jihoon asks which of the boxes you might want and sighs when you say you want to bring them all down. Doesn’t argue, though, just tells you how to help him get them down. Even helps you get some of them downstairs.

“Guess we might need a tree,” he sighs when you get the last box out of the attic.

“Oh, I can find a fake one at the store or something. It’s no big deal,” you mumble out.

“I have to take care of something in the morning, then we can go pick one out,” he says without looking at you.

“Really?” It comes out nearly as a squeak.

He rolls his eyes, which might discourage you if you hadn’t also caught the faintest smile. “Yeah, we might as well with all this stuff out of the attic.”

You distinctly hear him mumbling something about the damn Christmas spirit as he walks away, leaving you to happily sort through boxes. Hope can be dangerous, especially around the holidays when your plans are interrupted. But, you can’t help it. You feel a little spark of hope.

The house is quiet when you wake up. It’s hard to tell if Jihoon is around or not until you peek out into where you all park to see that his truck is missing. When you first met him, the truck surprised you. It’s not really flashy, or even new, for that matter, just an old, vintage Chevy that’s in completely perfect condition. It’s probably older than either of you, but you’d never know by how it looks. The more you get to know this man, the more the truck makes sense.

With the house empty, you can listen to music as loud as you want. You connect your phone to the speaker and Christmas music carries throughout the house in moments. Coffee in hand, you set out to get some of the decorations up while it’s just you. But, even with the music and the decorations, you’re feeling a little empty again. It’s not the same to be doing this all by yourself. You know, at least on some level, that you’re not totally alone. There’s also Jihoon and he isn’t going anywhere for the holidays. But, he obviously doesn’t like Christmas much if the lack of decorations or tree are anything to go by. Maybe you’re just a burden on him too.

Your phone dings and you look around for a minute before you find it on the table. The surprise of who’s texting you makes you unlock your phone right away.

Jihoon: Finished early and actually found a tree that works when I was driving home Jihoon: I hope that’s okay. I didn’t want it to be gone

There’s no explanation for the tears you’re blinking away. It’s not about picking out the tree. That part of Christmas hasn’t ever been an important part to you. Ever since you moved away, your parents got one before you flew in anyway. No, it’s more to do with the little you know about Jihoon and that truck. It’s almost like his child. He’s so careful about it. Somehow, Jun has managed to at least get to the point of being friends with him. Then again, Jun can wear anyone down. But, through Jun, you know how particular Jihoon can be about his truck. You distinctly remember Jun saying he wasn’t allowed to eat or drink in it (not that unusual) and that he had to brush off his shoes before getting in to avoid the dirt (a lot more unusual, especially someplace it snows). It probably doesn’t mean anything. It’s probably just your emotions about the change of holiday plans taking over. But, you’re overwhelmed that he’d pick up a tree and use his own truck.

You: oh, yeah! thanks! You: let me know you’re here and i’ll come help

The tree that Jihoon shows up with is completely perfect. Even still wrapped, you can tell that it’s going to be full. And that you’re going to have to work a little harder to get the branches to fall by Christmas. Not only did Jihoon use his truck to bring a tree back, he also has several bags of stuff, including a tree stand. It makes you wonder what he actually had to do this morning. It isn’t until you have to bring the tree in that you wonder how the hell you’re going to lift it into the house. That is, until Jihoon reaches through the branches and lifts up the tree. You try not to watch the way his muscles tense under his shirt. Fail miserably, actually, but he doesn’t seem to notice. He calls for you from the living room to help him fasten the tree into place. It’s a good thing, too, because you don’t really need to be dwelling on whether the guy who’s basically your landlord is hot or not.

Once the tree is up, he makes an excuse about needing to get some work done and disappears off to his studio. It had actually been really fun, even if it was short, to have Jihoon around and sharing in the space. It feels a little empty again. But, there’s still plenty of decorating to do. So you get to work. You’re hoping that somewhere in the process of decorating, it’ll start to feel a little more like Christmas. You consider calling Jun to answer his texts. Unfortunately, he knows your tones of voice better than you do. There’s no way you’ll be able to hide being sad. You can just fire off a couple quick texts to tell him about the tree and about how you’re decorating now.

An hour later, you’re kind of ready to give up. It’s just not going to feel like Christmas. Not when the joy and the sense of togetherness are missing. The second that you hear footsteps on the stairs, you wipe your eyes. The last thing you want is for Jihoon to see you crying. If he can tell, he doesn’t comment. Doesn’t say anything, actually. Just puts two bags down and starts sorting through ornaments, both old and clearly new. It’s the smallest gesture, yet you don’t feel so alone anymore.

“Do you want to listen to some music?” he finally asks to break the silence.

“Yeah, I can get a playlist,” you answer and reach for your phone.

“I have some, too. I’m not heartless,” he says with a chuckle.

“I never said…” you start, only to stop when he rests a hand on your arm.

“I was joking,” he says.

You’re not trying to be nosy, but you see him scroll through a few playlists while he’s looking for holiday music. “What were those?”

Jihoon looks up at you, confused, before looking back down at his phone. “Oh, nothing. Just stuff I’m working on.”

“I’d love to hear that,” you admit.

“What? The stuff that’s not done?” he asks, abandoning his search for a playlist.

“Well, yeah, but I meant the stuff you have finished,” you say.

“Oh, um, I don’t usually share that. I like to keep that separate,” he says awkwardly.

“It’s fine, I totally get it,” you say, brushing off any disappointment, and return to your focus on sorting through ornaments.

“Fuck it, sure. I’ll let you listen to some,” he says. Your head whips up with a beaming smile. And you have no way of knowing that it makes his heart stutter.

“Really?” you ask.

“Yeah, but if you hate them, don’t tell me,” he warns.

You hold out your pinky as a promise. Jihoon grumbles under his breath for a second before linking his pinky through yours as a promise. He scrolls back to one of the earlier playlists, keeps the name hidden from you, and hits play. The first song immediately puts you in a good mood. It’s upbeat and happy, full of good life advice. Just the type of thing you need right now. One song flows into the next and you’re smiling without even realizing it, singing along to songs that you can’t believe you know. Can’t believe this quiet man has so much talent. Can’t believe he works on such popular songs and still lives a simple life in a shared house with roommates that are way too loud.

It’s him that starts the conversation up again, seemingly unable to stop himself from asking for your thoughts. It’s the most animated you’ve ever seen him, asking for your opinions and talking about his process. The more you listen, the more he seems to have to say. At times, you’re not even sure that you hear what he’s saying. This animated side to him has you so entranced that you think you’d do anything to keep him speaking. Keep him smiling like this.

The house feels a lot warmer now that you’re decorating together and talking about anything under the sun. Talking about music seems to have opened him up to talking about a lot of things. About his interests, books he’s reading, games he likes to play. You find there are actually a lot of those things that you have in common. You have similar taste in books and in games, even offer to lend some books to him. He makes you promise that it’ll be an even trade so that he feels better about it.

When dinner time comes around, he suggests ordering delivery. You agree, but only on the condition that you can figure out a Christmas menu over dinner. That signature sigh and eye roll make another appearance, like he’s so exasperated by the process. It’s less effective now that you’re starting to know him better. A part of you thinks that it might even be an action reserved for people he cares about, even if that care is only small. But, you’re starting to learn how to play the game too. You pout at him and make your eyes as big as you can when you ask the second time. Before you can ask the third time, he relents and agrees.

With your favorite food spread out in front of you, from a place he’s somehow never tried, you start to make a list of your favorite Christmas dishes. Thankfully, some of your favorite things seem to line up and otherwise, Jihoon doesn’t really mind what you have. Once, he reminds you that there are only two of you, so you don’t need to go overboard. You’re quick to point out that leftovers are great and that your housemates come back shortly after Christmas. Again, he finds himself giving in to what you want.

You’re watching him clean up the boxes and considering your next question. “Can I ask you something?”

“You just did,” he points out, back still to you.

It’s your turn to roll your eyes. “You’re such a dick.”

“Now is that any way to speak to your landlord?” he teases, finally turning around.

“That’s actually what I wanted to ask you,” you say.

“If you can call me a dick?” he wonders and you laugh.

“No,” you manage. “No. I wanted to know…well, you’re obviously successful. Why live in a house with so many loud housemates?”

Jihoon looks thoughtful for a moment, turns around to continue throwing things out. You think he’s not going to answer when he comes to sit down across from you again. “I like the chaos. It's good for me. I don’t just mean because it inspires me. It does. But, it’s also good. I get a little in my head, if you haven’t noticed. I don’t always have the easiest time getting out. There’s always someone around here.”

“You secretly like us,” you coo because you’re not sure what else to say.

“I regret telling you,” he says and huffs.

“I’m kidding, Ji. I really like living here, even if you scared me at first. It feels like a weird, dysfunctional family,” you say.

“Do I still?” he asks, oddly serious.

“What? Scare me?”

“Yeah.”

“No, you don’t. I think you’re actually a lot softer than you want us to realize,” you say and watch his face. “Don’t worry, Ji, your secret’s safe with me.”

“Is that nickname going to stick?” he wonders.

“That depends. Do you like it?”

“Would it matter if I said no?”

“Of course it would.”

He looks away and clears his throat. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was a little shy or embarrassed. “I do like it.”

“I’ll be sure to use it a lot, then,” you say. More tease, really. You’re curious to see how he reacts and you’re not disappointed. There’s a slight blush to his cheeks. If you could see his ears through his hair, you think those would be tinged red as well.

It takes him a minute to regain his composure. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re exhausting?”

“How do you think I manage to keep up with Jun?” you fire back.

“He adores you, you know,” Jihoon says and it’s the softest you’ve seen him while talking about another person.

“I’m glad because I adore him, too,” you say without even thinking about it. “Although, sometimes he acts like the brother I definitely never wanted.”

Jihoon actually laughs at that, a real laugh, and the sound is so pretty. “The brother you never wanted. How does he feel about that?”

“Fine because I also tell him that sometimes he’s the brother I did want. So it evens out,” you reason.

“You see him like family?” he asks, an unplaceable emotion on his face.

“Yeah,” you answer immediately.

“Why didn’t you take his offer to go home with him for the holidays?”

That’s not the question you’re expecting. It makes you frown a little. You had forgotten, just for a moment, that this year was different. “Oh, well, I don’t know. Jun is family to me and I do love him like he’s my brother. But, um, I guess it’s that he’s family to me. Not his family. I like them and they’re great, but it would feel like intruding to have accepted. Like I was someone they had to make feel welcome, a guest. Not someone who was actually part of everything.”

“I get that,” he says.

“Why do you stay here on Christmas?” you wonder, venturing further into knowing him.

His shoulders slump a little bit, like he’s not really happy with how this turned either. “I don’t really talk to a lot of my family anymore.”

“I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t…” you start and he waves you off.

“No, no, it’s fine. You asked me about being successful and still living here with housemates. I told you most of the story, but not all of it,” he admits.

Without thinking about it, you get up from your chair to sit beside him. Put your hand on his arm to let him know that he doesn’t have to share this part of himself if he doesn’t want to or if he’s not ready. But, he insists he wants to share it with you now that you’ve also heard some of his music. His grandfather owned his house and got it from his grandfather before him. Jihoon had always been close to his grandparents. He was the only grandkid to come around and help them with things. His grandmother would try to teach him how to cook, even though he was never very good. She also taught him all sorts of games, that’s where he got a lot of that from. His grandfather taught him how to fix a car himself, how to fix things around the house, just how to be able to rely on yourself. They were the first ones that he told about wanting to make music and the first to encourage him even when the rest of the family thought it was stupid. They were the first ones to find out he’d gotten his first shot at just seventeen years old. They were the ones who taught him how to be careful with his money, to not blow it all because you never knew when the next shot would come. In the end, it wasn’t even old age that took them. A car accident on a snowy night took his grandmother. He lost his grandfather six months later from a broken heart.

It’s hard to remember that time because they were everything to him. He hadn’t even realized that they had changed their Will. That they had rewritten it to leave everything to him. If he had known, he never would have accepted it. But, there was a letter, too, confirming his grandfather had been of sound mind when they changed it. It went on to say that Jihoon was the only one in the family that came around just because he wanted to. So, he was the only one they felt could care for their legacy after they were gone. Something like that, it brings out the worst in people. Jihoon’s family was no different. First, they all insisted that he should share it, that they were owed part of it by blood. And then, they started to realize that he had his own success already. That he was selling songs and working with more people. They didn’t know who, exactly, because he never told him his pseudonym for producing, but the final letter from his grandfather mentioned how proud they had been. It got even uglier from there. Family members he’d never spoken to came out of the woodwork asking for favors or saying he should help. He had the means to do it, by his own success and the inheritance. In the end, he wound up cutting most of them out unless they were able to understand that they weren’t entitled to something he earned.

“So that’s why I stay here, it’s just easier,” he finishes.

You’re not even sure when you started crying, but you turn away to wipe your eyes. It’s not even your sadness. When you turn back, you find Jihoon looking closed-off. It breaks your heart all over again as you reach out to him. “Nobody should have to deal with that. What they did, what they put you through, it’s awful.”

“We all have history, right?” he asks. “I just don’t like to share it because I don’t want to be questioning if people like me for me or for what I could do for them.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I still see you as a former grumpy cat, secret softie and my…” you start, but trail off, trying to find the right word.

“Landlord?” he suggests through a humorless laugh. It makes your eyes soften at him.

“No, friend,” you decide.

“I just dumped a bunch of trauma on you and you wanna be my friend?” he asks, partly self-deprecating, partly hopeful.

“You don’t seem so bad,” you shrug.

“I guess we’ll see,” he says softly.

The rest of the night is lighter, mostly with you trying to figure out more things he likes as subtly as possible. He laughs when you come downstairs with the presents you’re saving until Christmas to open because he can tell Jun’s right away. You don’t tell him that you’ve already ordered half a dozen small things that’ll be at the house by Christmas Eve so that you can wrap them all up for him. You just want to see his face.

Two days before Christmas, you and Jihoon finish off the decorations and pick up groceries. Well, you’re the one who picks up groceries after insisting on splitting the bill. Jihoon has another mysterious errand that he has to run. Even though you really want to know, you decide to let him have his secrets. At least for now. You’re beginning to understand that he trusts you and he’ll tell you whatever it is when he’s ready, if it even has anything to do with you at all.

When the morning of Christmas Eve dawns, you’re actually excited. The past few days have been a whirlwind, and you’re definitely not done, but the house feels like Christmas. Three days ago you never would have thought Jihoon was enough to bring that holiday joy into the house. Now, you’re so insanely thankful that he’s gone above and beyond. Without anyone else around, or any other distractions, it’s been like a crash course in getting to know each other. There’s so much more to him than you ever realized.

The day passes in a haze of cooking, wrapping last minute presents, and laughter. Lots of laughter. You’ve heard Jihoon laugh more in the last couple days than in the entire time you’ve lived here. Not for the first time, you think it’s a wonderful sound and wish he’d laugh more. It’s easy to understand why he doesn’t, why he’s so guarded, but still. A person can dream.

With all the food prepped and the tree perfectly decorated, you decide it’s time to put your additional presents underneath. Jihoon huffs when you say you just got him a few small things you thought he’d like, before returning with a handful of presents for you. Every fiber of your being wants to give him shit over it. But, it’s Christmas, so you just call a truce instead. And light up like a kid when he suggests starting a fire in the fireplace.

“I’ll go make adult hot cocoa,” you tell him when he starts crumpling up old newspapers for the base of the fire.

“Adult hot cocoa?” he asks, face scrunched up like he’s adorably confused.

“Unless you just want the non-alcoholic version,” you offer.

“I’ll at least try it,” he concedes. His smile is soft when you squeal and run off to the kitchen.

By the time you’ve melted the chocolate (because who uses a premade mix in a kitchen this nice?), Jihoon has the fire going and is sitting on the couch. You’re about to ask why he’s scrolling his phone when he presses a button and Christmas music softly starts playing through the speakers. You hand over his mug and watch as he takes a sip. Even if he tries to hide it, you can tell he loves it and your smile is victorious. Probably why he tries to hide it.

You’re onto your second mug and asking Jihoon to find a blanket so that you can sit on the floor in front of the couch. It’s easier to stretch out closer to the fire. As is his way, he whines about how it’ll be too warm, even though you tell him he doesn’t have to sit with you. Still, he gets the blanket and plops down right next to you, so close that you’re almost touching. It only takes a couple minutes before he’s complaining that it’s really warm and then pulling off his sweatshirt. Your retort dies on your lips when you turn your head to the side and see the way the sweatshirt pulls his t-shirt up on the way. Or how muscular his arms look now that they’re exposed. You’re thankful that you look away before he catches you.

It’s quiet between the two of you as you watch the flames dance in the fireplace. There’s only comfort now, unlike a few days ago. That strikes you. Has it only been a few days since this man was something of a stranger to you? It almost feels like a lifetime ago. When you turn your head to him, you find he’s already looking at you.

“Can I admit something?” you ask.

“Course,” he says softly.

“I’m really glad I decided to stay here for Christmas,” you say, equally softly. You want to take a mental image of the smile that follows.

“Can I admit something, too?” he asks. You only nod. “I’m really glad you did too. This is the best Christmas I’ve had in years and it’s still only Christmas Eve.”

Before you can think better of it, you lean forward and kiss his cheek. Just for a second. Then you drop your head to his shoulder and let out a sigh. It’s the most content you’ve felt in a long time. Jihoon adjusts his arm, and you worry he doesn’t want your head on his shoulder, until he just moves it along the edge of the couch. It lets you lean against him easier, so you scoot a little closer and settle again. After another minute, he rests his head on top of yours. Without even seeming to realize it, his arm curls around your shoulder, holding you tight to him. It makes you acutely aware of his body next to yours. Moments ago, you were thinking that you could fall asleep like this. Now, you’re wide awake.

He must sense some kind of change because he pulls his head up. “Are you okay?”

His voice is so gentle, so full of concern. You wonder how he can sound so calm when your brain is overthinking everything. “Yeah, I just, I don’t know. Being close to you like this is really nice and not at all what I was expecting.”

Jihoon reaches out to tilt your chin up so that he can look you in the eyes. “It doesn’t have to be something you’re not expecting. It is nice to be close to you like this.”

That’s the other thing you can’t really believe has changed so much in a matter of days. This man is a walking contradiction in so many ways. Grumpy as a default, yet so incredibly soft. The most private person you’ve met, yet willing to share why he struggles with Christmas. Rough around the edges, yet also unfailingly kind. Constantly wearing oversized clothes, yet secretly really fit. Okay, maybe that’s not so much a contradiction as you checking him out.

“What if I was open to it being more than just being close?” you venture.

“How much is in your adult hot cocoa?” he asks, with some obvious difficulty.

“Enough to make me a little more honest, maybe, but not even enough to get buzzed on,” you answer.

“Then, I can say if you’re open to more than just being close, I really fucking want to kiss you,” he says. “I have all day.”

“Just all day?” you tease. He gives you an unimpressed look. “What are you waiting for?”

“You to say it’s okay,” he says and leans closer to you.

“It’s okay, Ji,” you whisper, lips already nearly touching.

You’re expecting a soft kiss, are as prepared for that as you can be. And it starts off relatively soft, like he’s testing the waters. It quickly morphs into anything, but soft. It’s the kind of kiss that sets your entire body on fire. The kind of kiss that steals your breath and becomes the only thing you need. It’s steady and desperate, all at the same time. You’re not even sure how your hands find their way into his hair that curls along his neck. It’s even softer than you imagined it would be.

“So, is this your move?” you ask, pulling away just long enough to catch your breath.

“What?” he asks. His lips are already a little swollen.

“Getting the fire going with a little music on in the background,” you tease.

“Trust me,” he begins, punctuating his words with featherlight kisses along your neck. “I’ve never gone to this much trouble for anyone and it definitely wasn’t to get here.”

The confession is so honest. So serious. It’s completely at odds with your teasing. But, should you really expect anything else from Jihoon? He can tease with the best of them, for sure. The last few days he’s also shown that you bring out an honesty that surprises him. You’re not sure if you trust yourself to speak, so you just pull his face up to kiss him again. It’s kind of an uncomfortable position, leaning against the couch, but you’re also not really sure if you care. That is, you’re not sure you care until he turns to pull you into his lap. It’s a little awkward and you have to break the kiss to get settled. Once you’re settled, though, it’s much nicer to be straddled across him like this. Much easier to press your chest into his and keep tangling your fingers in his hair. Much easier for him to wrap his arms around you like he doesn’t want you to go anywhere. You want to tell him that there’s nowhere else in the world you’d rather be.

As you kiss him, you let your hands wander down his arms. There’s a safety in being held by him. There’s a strength to him you really never realized, kind of quiet like he is, a little unassuming. The kind of strength that sneaks up on you when you’re not really expecting it. Not only does every part of your body respond to him, but your mind does too. It’s just safe. You’re not sure how you know, you just do. He’s the kind of person that you can really trust to see all of you and still accept you. It’s entirely too much to be feeling about someone this fast, so you push that aside. When you inch your bodies closer together, your core drags across him and sends an ache through you. You do it several more times, back and forth, craving that friction.

“Fuck,” he hisses out.

“I’m sorry, is that too much?” you worry. Suddenly a little self-conscious that there’s been some kind of miscommunication.

He grabs your chin and pulls you back to look into his eyes. “No. It’s never too much. I want whatever you’re willing to give me.”

“But, you don’t know what I’m…” you start. His eyes are serious, intense. You’re burning up and it has nothing to do with the fire.

“Whatever you’re willing to give me, I’ll happily take it. Even if that means it doesn’t go past this,” he reassures you.

“I think I want it all,” you whisper.

“You think you do, or you actually do?” he asks.

You study him for a moment, looking for signs that he’s going to hurry off or something. With one of his hands, he’s tracing patterns against your thigh through the material of your pants. Everything about him seems sincere. Everything seems steady.

“I do.”

It’s a different smile he gives you then, one that says he’s relieved, maybe even a little surprised. One that says he’s genuinely happy. But, most of all, one that says he just wants whatever the night turns into.

“Let’s go upstairs, I don’t want you hurting your knees like this,” he says softly.

You look over your shoulder at the fireplace and he follows your gaze. “We should…”

“I’ll take care of that, just go upstairs. To my room,” he says and you suppress a slight shudder at being told what to do. You kind of like that side of him. “Get comfortable, I’ll just be a minute.”

You get off his lap, quietly thankful for his consideration of your knees and kiss him softly. It’s also easy to see that he’s giving you a little bit of time to be sure. To clear your head away from the tree and the fire and the holiday everything. It’s time you don’t need because you’re definitely sure. The second you step foot through his door, you realize that you’ve never been in his bedroom before. It’s beautifully decorated in a way that screams him. When you sit down on the edge of the bed, you sigh. It’s so comfortable.

This part hasn’t ever been the easiest for you, the waiting for someone to come into the room and knowing what’s going to happen. But, you do know what’s happening and sitting there completely clothed seems silly. In the end, you settle for leaving your sleeveless shirt and underwear on, but taking everything else off, including your bra. You just have time to sit back against the bed when he walks through the door and closes it behind him. Force of habit, you assume, since there isn’t anyone else home. His eyes drink you in, scanning down your body and all your curves. It’s so immediately comfortable that you don’t have the urge to cover back up.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he utters and it makes you blush a little. “Has anyone ever told you that?”

“Not in a while when I’ve been this undressed,” you answer quietly with your head down.

You feel the bed dip and look up at him, sitting right in front of you. “That’s crazy. You’re one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever known.”

“You’re so sweet,” you say with a smile.

“It’s what you deserve,” he says and gets back off the bed.

It’s his turn to remove the layers, stopping when all he has are his boxer briefs. You fight back a gasp (and lose, as is evident by his smirk) when he takes off his shirt. What the fuck?

“Jihoon, what the fuck? Come here,” you request. He listens, but takes his time. When he’s within your reach, you run your fingers along his stomach. Trace each ab muscle like you can’t believe this is what’s been under the shirt the whole time.

“I work about a bit,” he shrugs and you roll your eyes.

“A bit, he says,” you tease back.

“Can I get in the bed now? Or do I have to stay here?” he asks.

“You can get in bed, but I want to be in your lap again,” you state.

“Fine by me,” he readily agrees.

There’s a weird sense of time with him. You could kiss him for hours, may just do that. It also feels like it’s only been seconds when you pull back to catch your breath. You delight in the way he hisses when you run your nails down his stomach. Yelp when he smacks your ass in response. But, it doesn’t stop you from doing it again, maybe just so you can get another smack. You tell him not to be too gentle with you and he groans. There’s still that little bit of clothing between you, though, and it’s hard to get the friction you need.

It’s like he senses what you want, or maybe what you need, and he positions you over one of his thighs. Helps you move back and forth to find a rhythm. It gives you that friction that you’ve been craving. He peppers kisses all over, trying to find the places that you like. Lingers wherever gets the best noises out of you. All while you grind against his thigh. When you think it can’t get better, he pulls your shirt up over your head and casts it aside. He rolls one of your nipples between his fingers. The look on his face when you arch into his fingers is so satisfied. It makes him carry on while also kissing across your chest.

“Fuck, Ji, if I keep this up I’m gonna come on your thigh,” you whimper.

“So do it,” he answers.

“I can’t, that’s…” you start, cutting off when he sucks hard into the skin of your breast. “Fuck!”

“That’s what?” he prompts, returning to your nipple.

“I can’t come just from this,” you mutter lamely. It makes you feel like a teenager.

“Then I better help because I want you to make a mess,” he says.

Before you can protest, he’s kissing you again. His thumb hooks into your underwear and rubs across your clit in time with you rocking. It’s too much all at once. Too much stimulation. Too close. Too different. It all works, though, because you’re coming undone in seconds. Making a mess of his thigh just like he wanted. Screaming out his name and thankful to know nobody else can hear you. You lean forward to rest your forehead against his, trying to steady your breathing.

“That was so hot,” he whispers into the limited space between you.

“I’ve never gotten off like that before,” you admit.

“I wonder if there’s anything else I can pull out of you for the first time,” he says.

“Like what?” you wonder.

“I guess we’ll see,” he answers

“I think it’s time for me to take care of you,” you say.

He kisses you gently and pulls away. “Not yet.”

“But,” you start, only to cut off when he flips the two of you over.

The shock over being completely manhandled by Jihoon is all you register until you feel his fingers by your hips, tugging your ruined underwear down your legs. All you can do is watch as he kisses from your ankle all the way up your inner thigh and down the other side. When he pulls himself back up your body to settle between your legs, you shiver. Try to play it off as his breath against your cunt, still slick. You watch as he spreads your lips open so that he can lick into you.

“Fuck, Ji,” you whine out.

“Just relax, sweetheart,” he urges before diving into you again.

You’re expecting it to be a little frenzied. Not that you’ve never enjoyed getting eaten out, but you just kind of see it as foreplay to get through. That was before Jihoon, apparently. He takes his time, carefully builds you up again. Has you begging for something more. Has you uttering phrases that don’t make any sense. Has you seeing stars in the darkness of the room. Has you feeling the loss when he removes his mouth.

“No, Ji, please,” you beg. “Your tongue feels so good.”

“I know,” he says and then he’s kissing you.

He keeps kissing you as he runs a finger through your wetness, once and then again. Keeps kissing you when he slides his finger inside of you. Nips at your lip when you moan at the addition of his second finger. You can feel how tightly you’re coiled from the build up with his tongue. The way he fucks his fingers into you, you know you won’t last long. It’s hard and fast and as desperate as you felt moments ago when you begged for him. He’s relentless, even when your walls grip his fingers and your toes start to curl. You come so hard on his finger that he actually has you squirting. And honestly, he’s got you blacking out a little bit too.

“Jesus fucking christ,” you curse when he falls beside you. “Your fingers, your mouth, oh my god.”

“I’d ask if it was good, but I think I know the answer,” he chuckles.

You swat at his chest, but he catches your hand and presses a kiss to your knuckles. So tender that it takes the bite out of your next statement. “Fuck off.”

“Your body is so amazing, I could watch you come every day and never get sick of it,” he admits.

You prop yourself up on an elbow to look at him. He’s laying on his back, hand casually running over his already hard dick through his briefs. You move his hand and free him. There’s a hunger in his gaze as he watches you spit into your hand and start running it along his shaft.

“Go slow,” he requests and you look at up at him. “Watching you is so hot that I’m a little wound up. And I still want to fuck you.”

“Jihoon, you’ve already…” you start.

“Please. You can take care of me anytime. I want to feel you around me,” he whispers. It’s not quite a beg, but it’s close. All you can do is nod okay. “I need to hear you.”

“Yes, Ji, I want you to fuck me,” you say.

He rolls over on the bed to reach into the bedside table and rustles around for a minute. The sign before he rolls back over sounds bad. “I don’t have a condom. It’s, uh, well it’s been awhile.”

“It’s okay,” you say.

“I guess maybe this will have to…” he starts.

“No, I mean it’s fine. I’m on birth control and it’s been awhile for me too, so it’s fine. I trust you,” you say, finding you do actually trust him.

“Are you sure?” he checks.

“Fuck, yes, please. I don’t care that you’ve made me come twice already, please fuck me,” you insist and it works. He smiles and slides his briefs off.

In another second, he’s positioning himself between your legs again. You lay back against the pillow behind your head and just look up at him, so impossibly fond. It’s too soon to be this fond. But, you see the same look in his eyes, so maybe you’re not alone. He lines himself up and drags his tip against your entrance. Opens the lube you hadn’t even noticed and takes it into his hand. He lets it warm up for a second before running his hand over his dick. Then, he’s back at your entrance and slowly pressing into you. He takes his time letting you adjust, watches your face for signs that it’s okay. He leans forward to kiss you and it’s so gentle you want to cry.

You’re glad this is slow, that he’s taking his time. It’s not that you’re inexperienced, it’s just that you can’t remember the last time you felt this comfortable with anyone. You’re not sure you’ve ever known how nice it was to just look into someone’s eyes while you’re fucking. Not sure you’ve wanted to be this close. Jihoon’s body is pressed against yours as he thrusts into you, but it’s still not enough. You wrap your legs around his hips, run your fingers down his back, arch into him. Anything to meld your bodies together that much more. He’s not as vocal now, but you’re probably taking care of that for both of you. You can see all the things he wants to say in the eyes that stay trained on you.

His thrusts start to get a little off rhythm and your moans become more broken. “Fuck, Ji, yes! Right there.”

“I’m gonna fucking come, oh my god,” he moans out.

“Me too,” you whine. “Fuck, it’s too much.”

“Come for me, please, I need to feel you,” he very nearly begs.

“Fuck, I’m coming!” you scream out.

Your whole body shudders and you sort of register the praise coming from Jihoon. He follows right behind you, releasing into you. You can tell he’s trying to keep his weight off of you, but you pull him to just let go. Reluctantly, he settles his body down on top of yours. The weight is pleasant and being close to him is even better. After a moment, his breathing falls into line with yours. It’s several moments longer before he carefully pulls out of you and rolls to the side.

“Wow,” he says. You can hear the smile in his voice.

“Yeah,” you agree.

It’s much later than usual for you by the time you wake up on Christmas morning. But, it had been late by the time you and Jihoon had gotten cleaned up and back in bed. Even later by the time you stopped wanting to talk while all cuddled up. When you wake up, you feel his chest pressed into your back and his arm draped across your body. The second you start to move, his arm tightens and he somehow pulls you closer to him. He presses kiss into your hair.

“Merry Christmas,” he says, voice thick with sleep.

“Merry Christmas,” you answer.

He adjusts behind you and you realize he’s a little hard again, pressing into your ass. Even though you know it’s not fair, you wiggle your ass against him. You’re more than a little surprised when he bucks, just once, into you in response.

“Sorry, I’m sure you’re a little sore this morning,” he says, still hoarse.

“Not so sore,” you answer, pressing back again.

“Don’t you want to see what’s under the tree?” he asks, the teasing clear in his voice.

You turn over so you’re facing him. “I think I’d rather unwrap this present first.”

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he groans. But, he pulls you against him all the same, clearly not opposed.

Once you’re both showered again and dressed, you pad downstairs and straight into the kitchen to find Jihoon is already at the counter getting the coffee going. He looks so cute with his messy, wet hair, that you can’t help yourself. You have to come up and hug him from behind. Place a kiss between his shoulder blades and then rest your head. All he can do is just put a hand over yours.

“What do you want for breakfast?” you ask when you pull away.

“The cinnamon rolls you insisted we had to have,” he says like it’s obvious.

By the time you get those in the oven, he’s handing you a perfect cup of coffee, exactly the way you like it. It feels like neither of you can be physically separated. Hands finding each other as you move around the kitchen. Little kisses as you pass by. Just drawn together like magnets. Once the cinnamon rolls come out, and you add the extra icing that you insisted on, the two of you head to the living room.

You think you were supposed to text or call Jun when you open his present, but you’re a little stuck on opening the things Jihoon got you at the last minute. He insists that you go first and open your presents so that he can see your reaction. The first couple are silly, but thoughtful. Just little things that show he’s actually been paying attention to you much longer than you realized. Not that he had some kind of crush or anything, just that he pays attention when people talk. When you think you’re done, he pulls out a small box.

“I wanted you to open this last,” he says in response to your confused look.

It’s a small box, very nicely wrapped. You open it to find a beautiful necklace, simple and stunning. Exactly the kind of thing you like to wear. But, exactly the type of thing you can’t accept. “JIhoon, it’s beautiful. But, you must know it’s too much. I can’t take this.”

“I didn’t spend anything on it,” he assures you and slides closer so he can look down at it in the box. “It was my grandmother’s. And before you say you can’t take it again, she’d want someone to have it. She wanted to pass her jewelry on, but was so sick of our family. I think she’d really like you, so I want you to have it.”

“Thank you,” you say softly and lean forward to kiss him.

Watching Jihoon open the little things that you got him is everything you hoped it would be. He’s so appreciative of each thing, even if they seem small to you. They’re all things he says he really needs. To him, that’s one of the best kinds of gifts because it shows that you’re listening. It shows that you want to make someone else’s life just a little easier. It nearly makes you emotional when he’s the one opening things.

You want to stay curled up on the couch with Jihoon forever, watching stupid Christmas movies and invading his personal space. He grumbles a little at you clinging to him, but pouts the second you pull away. Sadly, you have to get up to start some of the cooking for Christmas dinner. Jihoon offers to help, knows you’re feeling a little sore, and you wave him off. Cooking at Christmas is one of your favorite things. You get your music going and don’t even register anything else. You don’t hear his footsteps or his voice talking to someone.

“Hey, Ji? Do you think I should make all the rolls? Probably, right?” you ask and turn around to see he’s standing in the doorway holding his phone up.

“Did my bestie just call you Ji?” a voice asks from the phone.

“Uh, yeah,” Jihoon answers and closes the distance to you. He hands over the phone. “Jun was looking for you.”

“Oh, hi, Junie! How’s your parents’?” you ask. His eyes scan you and you look down too late. You’re not wearing your shirt, it’s one of Jihoon’s that you stole because it was more comfortable.

“Not as good as it is there, apparently,” Jun says with a giggle.

“Oh, well, you see…” you start and Jun is cackling.

“I’ll let you get back to cooking, but expect to have a long conversation when I’m home,” he says once he stops laughing.

“You sound like my parent,” you whine.

“Just try and tell me there’s nothing to talk about,” Jun challenges and you look over at Jihoon sitting at the kitchen table.

“I can’t,” you say, still looking at him.

“I knew it,” Jun says, triumphant. “Give the phone back to Ji…”

“You don’t get to call me that,” Jihoon chimes in.

“So much to talk about,” Jun repeats as you hand the phone back over.

The rest of the afternoon passes too quickly. Jihoon stays in the kitchen with you when you have to cook and lounges on the couch with you watching movies when you’re waiting for things to finish. He helps wherever he can and genuinely seems to appreciate the effort that you’re taking. Well, he appreciates it almost as much as the dinner itself when you sit down to eat. Without question, it’s the best Christmas you can remember. It turns out that maybe you were right all along. Christmas wasn’t about presents or specific people or anything. It was about feeling joy and thankful and just a deep connection with whoever you were with. It makes you realize you do need to talk to Jihoon, though.

After dinner, the two of you settle back on the couch with a glass of wine. His free hand traces patterns into your legs that are across his lap. “Hey, so about what Jun said…”

“Jun is an idiot,” Jihoon brushes off.

“He is, but he also has a point. There’a a lot to talk about,” you say. He turns his head to look at you.

“I meant what I said last night, I’ll take whatever you want to give me,” he says and takes another sip of wine.

“But, that’s so…I don’t know,” you start, searching for the words.

He just shrugs like you’re talking about something so simple. Maybe you are. “I’m pretty open about things when I’m comfortable. I’m also kind of an all in or all out guy. I don’t know, that’s probably too much. I’m happy with whatever you’re comfortable giving me.”

“You’re going to make me fall for you, Lee Jihoon,” you tease lightly. You’re also testing a little bit.

He smiles at you, that soft one that makes his eyes crinkle. “That doesn’t sound so bad to me.”

“I guess it doesn’t,” you agree.

“Thank you for being the best thing about Christmas in a long time,” he says. So honest. It’s so simple, too.

“It’s been perfect,” you agree. “The only thing that could make it better is…”

“Snow,” he interrupts.

“Yeah,” you agree.

He shakes his head and points to the window. “No, it’s snowing.”

You turn your head to follow his finger and see he’s right. Snow falls in light, beautiful swirls just outside the window. You can’t remember the last white Christmas you had, even living somewhere it snows.

“Wow, this really is the perfect Christmas,” you whisper.

i hope you liked it. please reblog or leave a comment to let me know your thoughts 💕

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