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twice-inamillion · 4 months

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The Company

Taeyeon and IU’s Plan

Smut and Story Building (Sex, Deep Penetration, Defloration, Creampie, Fingering, Blowjob)

Chapter 3

4,315 Words

(IU finds out that Taeyeon has been looking through her phone that filled with her sexual experiences with her boss. Taeyeon is convinced by IU to get a taste and comes up with a plan. Taeyeon gets more than what she can handle. OC gets a little surprised but is more than happy to accept it.)

A few weeks pass, and every time Taeyeon stays at IU’s apartment, she notices hints of your sexual relationship with IU. Anything like cum covered panties, cummed covered skirts and marks on IU’s thighs and chest.

She can’t hold on any longer; she needs to confront her friend about the type of relationship the two of you have. Taeyeon tries to find the looks for the best moment to talk to her about this.

“I’m going to ask her today; I can’t wait anymore. It’s awkward every time I see the two of them together.”

Taeyeon arrives earlier than usual and prepares dinner for the both of them, “Some pasta would be nice and easy to do. She changes into some comfortable clothes and gathers all the necessary items to make the meal.

“Taeyeon, I’m home.”

“Welcome back. I made dinner for us.”

“Aww, that’s nice of you. Let me change.”

“Okay, I’ll set the dinner table.”

Taeyeon sets the dinner table and waits for IU to take a seat before serving her. “What’s the special occasion?”

“Nothing much. I just got tired of ordering takeout and wanted to make something homemade.”

“Haha, you should do this more often.”

“I’ll try, only when I’m done early. Anyways, how was your day? Don’t think we have talked comfortably in the past few days.”

“Hmm… nothing much. Just the same old thing. You know, helping with ranking the trainees, setting up meetings, and doing my duties as the CEO’s assistant.”

“What kind of duties do you have?”

“Just busy stuff like going over his daily and weekly schedule, setting up his meetings, sometimes bringing him his meals or some do simple tasks.”

“Seems like he has you overworking yourself.”

“Ah, no, that’s not true. He also has Irene as the secondary assistant. We share the tasks here and there. It's not that bad, actually, once you get used to it. But there are times when it does get busy, and I come home tired.”

“Is he nice to you?”

“He can be a bit tough, but he treats me nice. He asks how I’m doing, buys me nice things like jewelry, and gives me spending money.”

“Seems like the two of you have more than a boss-and-employee relationship.”

IU smiles and tries to play it off, but Taeyeon teases her, “Omg, are you and your boss something?” IU can’t help but grin, causing Taeyeon to push deeper, “I kind of figured the two of you were a thing. Is it actually a thing or work sex?”

“Haha, why do you want to know? Are you perhaps interested?”

“No! I just wanted to ask since you have been acting a bit differently.”

“Hmm.. okay. I’ll tell you, but don’t tell anyone else, okay?”

Taeyon is now completely invested in finding out their relationship and eagerly nods, “Yeah, I won’t tell anyone.”

“Okay, remember how I told you that my family has financial issues?”

“Yeah, of course. You said that your family was struggling really back, especially your mom.”

“I wanted to help her somehow, so I contacted some people and became his personal assistant. This meant I had to service him at the workplace and him “personally.” I knew it was bound to happen and did it for my mother’s sake. So I had my first time with him. I thought I would hate him, but he’s really caring. He and I aren’t dating; it’s just a work relationship. I’ve been with him for a bit over a year and learned that it’s better to take the initiative and serve him than for him to act on it. If he has to ask for it when he might fuck you based on his mood, and trust me, that might be a bit dangerous. So I learned to read his mood and service him.”

“Oh wow. I didn’t know it was that serious.”

“The pay is really good, and the benefits are much better. This is one of the reasons why I have this apartment, and my mom is living in a nice house.”

Taeyeon hesitants but asks, “By the way, how far have you gone? Like, what do you do?”

“Well… the first few times, it was just regular sex, then it was a handjob and blow job. As time kept going, we would do more stuff, like me giving him head in his office or having sex in there too.”

“Have you two done anal?”

“Ahh, I haven’t, but he’s done it with someone else.”

“Who?”

“Irene, his other assistant.”

“He fucks her too?”

“Yeah, and let me tell you this. Their relationship is much different than mine. She didn’t want to service him and learned the hard way. Anyways, are you interested?”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t try to hide it, Taeyeon. I know you looked through my panties in my hamper and went through my phone.”

Taeyeon panics and lies, “No, I didn’t do that.”

“Don’t lie, that phone is something that he gave me. It screen records every time someone tries to log in. So I know that you’ve been looking at my videos of him fucking me.”

Taeyeon panics, and it shows. IU reads Taeyeon like a book and teases her by asking, “Are you interested in him?”

“Ahh, no! I’m just interested.”

“Lies, I’ve heard your moaning during the night. I know that you’re sexually interested and frustrated.”

“No, you’re wrong.”

“I mean, if you are, and I know you are. It will make my job easier. There are so many things I have to do, and if he’s busy with you, then that means I have to spend less time servicing him. What do you think?”

“Umm… I don’t know.”

“I’ll even help you. I’ll tell you the best time and even get him a bit tipsy for you, haha.”

“You’ll help me?”

“Yeah, you’re my friend. It’s not like I have anything to lose. Look, I’ll even show you some pictures from today,” as IU pulls out her phone and shows Taeyeon a video of you getting your cock sucked and you cumming in her mouth and face. IU notices Taeyeon slide her hand between her legs and rubs herself under the table, “Don’t tell me you don’t see yourself being in my place. Just imagine his hot cum on your face and going down your throat.”

“Hmm… you said you’ll help me, right?”

“Yeah, I’ll take care of everything. You just got to follow my advice, and you’ll be good.”

“Okay, I’ll do it,” causing IU to smile.

————

“Is that the last schedule for the day?”

“Yes, sir. You’re done for the day. Are you planning on dining out?”

“No, I just want to go home and rest. This was a busy and long weekend; I wanted to have a drink and relax. I’ll probably go out tomorrow.”

“Would you still like me to service you later tonight?”

“Hmm… actually, how about we share a drink?”

“It would be my pleasure, sir.”

You gather all your belongings and head to your apartment with IU. The two of you wait for the elevator and can’t help but notice the large height difference between the both of you, almost a foot apart. The elevator door slides open, and the two of you enter and scan your keycard to the top floor.

Arriving at the top floor, you walk down a long hallway towards the single, large door on the floor and insert your code to enter, “Finally, back home.” The two of you take your shoes off, leave your items on the table by the hallway, and sit on the large couch.

“Would you like me to serve you the usual?”

“Yes, please.”

IU heads towards the kitchen and to the alcohol cabinet and grabs a bottle and two glass cups. She pours the both of you a drink and walks back. “Here you, sir.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I like your initiative, Ji-eun. You’ve become a reliable assistant.”

“No, thank you, sir. For the opportunity to serve you and the help to my family.”

“Ahh, yes. How’s your mother doing?”

“She’s doing well, thanks to your generosity.”

“No need to thank me; it’s all due to your hard work.”

IU grabs the bottle once more and pours another drink as you enjoy the view from the top floor of the building. Watching the sunset is one of your favorite things after coming home from a long day.

“Would you like me to order you takeout, sir?”

“Sure, that’d be great.”

“What would you like?”

“You can choose.”

“Okay, I’ll place an order.”

You place your drink down and change into something more comfortable while waiting for the food to arrive. IU sets the table, cleans a bit of the living room, and places your items where they belong. “Would you like another drink?”

“Yeah, I could go for another one.”

She serves you another drink, and you take small sips as you continue to enjoy the view from your living room couch. You and IU have a small conversation about some of the schedule for next week and about the process of the trainees when IU’s phone pings. “Sorry, sir. It’s the delivery person; I’m going to go down to the lobby and meet them. I’ll be right back.”

“Okay, sounds good.”

You walk to the kitchen, open the fridge door, and grab a couple of beers for the meal. You wait for IU to arrive and check your messages. When you hear the door ring go off, signaling that IU was coming inside.

“Sir, I’m back.”

“Nice, I grabbed a couple of beers for the two of us.”

“Sir, I met Taeyeon in the lobby and asked her to join us. Would that be okay with you, sir?”

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

“She’ll be coming up in a few. She just went to get changed.”

“Okay, let's get the table ready for three.”

After a few minutes, the doorbell rings, and IU opens the door for Taeyeon. “Hello, sir. Thank you for allowing me into your house.”

“It’s no problem; you’re welcome anytime; come take a seat.”

Taeyeon sits on the couch across from you," Would you like a beer?”

“Yes, I’ll take one.” he grabs a beer and opens it. She crosses her legs, and you catch a glimpse of her not wearing any panties. You try not to look at it, but you can’t help but admire her thighs.

“The pizza is ready.”

“Thanks; actually, do you think it would be better to eat here in the living room since it’s pizza?”

“We could do that,” says IU.

“I’ll help you, Ji-eun,” standing up and helping bring the plates to the living room table.

With everyone sitting down, you all grab a slice of pizza and a beer and start to eat. You ask Taeyeon about her week and if she’s comfortable as the vocal coach.

“I like it here; the place is beautiful, the staff is nice, and the trainees are very hardworking.”

“That’s good to hear. Better than SM, huh.”

“Haha, yeah, it is,” she laughs.

IU mentions that she’s been hearing positive feedback from the trainees ever since she started and congratulated her on a good job. Taeyeon smiles and puts her feet on the couch, giving you a better view of her private area.

You try not to look, but you can’t help your curiosity and eye her every time she moves her legs. IU notices this and asks, " Taeyeon, would you mind passing me a napkin?”

“Sure,” and she reaches for the napkin, allowing you to get a glimpse of her cleavage under the oversized shirt. IU looks at you and smiles, knowing that the plan is working.

“Like what you, sir?”

You turn around to IU, “What do you mean?”

“I asked if you liked what you saw.”

You see IU’s smile and turn to Taeyeon and see her smile. “What’s going on?”

IU says, “What do you think, sir? She wants you.”

“Is that true?”

“What do you think? I wouldn’t give a show to just anyone,” says Taeyeon.

“Hmm… So the both of you planned this.”

“You catch on quick, sir.”

“Okay, I’ll play your game. Taeyeon, you must be aware of the type of relationship I have with Ji-eun, right?”

“Yes, I’m aware.”

“And you’re fine with that?”

“Yeah, I am.”

Calling her bluff, you stand up, walk towards her, and extend your hand. “Alight, since you want to play, we can go right now.”

“R…right now?” looking at IU, who only smiles.

Knowing what will happen, she takes your hand and follows your lead to one of the bedrooms. The both of you hear a small chuckle from IU, and her saying, “Have fun,” before you close the door.

“You want to play? Let's see if you’re game,” and sit on the one-seater coach in the room.

Taeyeon stands there, confused about what you mean. “Strip.”

Taeyeon is caught off guard by your command and hesitates. You repeat it once more, “Strip.” Understanding you’re serious; she stands before you crosses her arms, and removes her oversized shirt and then her loose, small shorts.

In front of you is a completely nude Taeyeon. She has small breasts and a clean, shaven cunt. Without saying a word, you scan her body, from her feet to her head. She turns around and gives you a view of her behind, “Amazing. I can’t believe a member from Girls Generation is standing in front of me, nude.”

You signal her to approach you and say, “Come over here.” You grab both her hands and her right in front of you. You lick your index and middle finger and rub her lower lips. She moans at the sudden touch of your warm fingers against her cold skin. Using your two fingers, you trace and swirl the outside of her lips until you feel her moist.

You remove your fingers, pull her towards you, and pick her up. She suddenly yelps from being picked up and notices you walking towards the bed. You toss her onto the bed and watch her reaction as you spread her legs wide open, giving you an embarrassed look. She tries to cover her pussy, to which you tease her and say, “I guess you’re all talk and no game,” giving her a smirk. She gets offended and removes her hands out of pride, responding, “I’m not all talk; I can back it up, too.”

“You’re sure about that?”

“Yeah, I am.”

“I’ll give you one last chance to back out.”

“Don’t need it, I can play along.”

“Alright. Let’s play.”

You remove your shirt and shorts and toss it to the couch. Taeyeon’s heart begins to race as she’s focused on your boxers and sees you pull them down, revealing your semi-hard cock. You pull her towards you and her folds once you say, “You have a really nice pussy right here.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah. I can’t wait to fuck you,” grabbing your cock and pressing it against her lower lips. She pushes your cock away and says, “Wait, you’re not going to wear a condom?”

You stop and are surprised by the most ridiculous question and reply, “What do you mean a condom? I only fuck, raw. Why? You don’t want to?”

No, I was just wondering. I heard that it’s important to wear a condom.”

“I check myself regularly, so I’m good. Are you?”

“No, I’m good.”

“Okay, then we’re all good to continue, right?”

“Yeah,” turning her head around and thinking of all the possibilities of fucking without a condom.

You grab your cock with your right hand and give it a few pumps and press it against her lower lips. You look at Taeyeon and see her face of anticipation, waiting for your next move. With your hardened cock against her entrance, you smack it against her folds right before inserting yourself inside of her.

Taeyeon groans from the pain of your cock making its way through her tight walls. “Fuck… you’re so tight!” as you shove more of your cock inside her. Due to the pain, Taeyeon grabs onto the bedsheets with all her might.

Suddenly, Taeyeon screams when you shove your whole length inside of her in one go. “Wait…Wait… pull out, pull out, you’re breaking me!”

Seeing her in pain, you pull out your cock, and caress her cheek, “Are you okay?” Taeyeon replies, “You’re too big; I thought it was going to die. Give me some time to get myself together.”

‘Wait… don’t tell me” as you look down and look at the tip of your cock covered in a thin layer of red.

She nods her head in tears and says, “Yeah, it’s my first time.” You’re surprised by her comment and would have never known that this would be her first time, but the idea of being her first man makes you hard again.

You grab a tissue, get yourself cleaned, and reassure Taeyeon that you’ll make it pleasurable. She nods and wipes the tears off her face before you move on to insert yourself once more.

With your cock at the entrance of her, slowly insert your length; Taeyeon groans from the slight pain in her walls and begins to stretch to their limits, “Ow… you’re still too big.” You get on the bed, get on top of her, and begin to kiss her neck and play with her breast as you move inside of her.

Taeyeon slowly forgets about the pain and focuses on the pleasure of your kissing and her tits, “Hmm, yeah… that feels good, don’t stop.” You move towards her breast and take her nipple into your mouth as you play with the other. She continues to moan and let free of her nipple and continue to thrust your cock.

Taeyeon wraps her arms around your neck now that she’s comfortable with your length. You increase the pace of your thrusting, causing her to moan and even laugh, “I can’t describe the feeling, but it feels so good!”

“Just wait, it's going to feel better,” as you place her into a mating press. With her legs pushed back, you do a strong thrust, each other’s pelvis smacking against each other. “How do you like that? Can you feel it deep inside you?”

“Ahh.. yeah, I can feel the difference. My womb is taking the shape of your cock!” Her hands move towards her breast, pinching and twisting her nipples as she feels her orgasm coming.

Seeing her pleasuring herself, you can’t help but tease her as you focus your focus on her clit. Taeyeon yelps, asking you to stop because she can feel an overwhelming feeling approaching.

Instead, you place it between your thumb and your index finger and give it a nice pinch. This causes Taeyeon to instantly cum, as you feel a rush of fluid covering your cock. You pull out and enjoy the scene of her orgasm as her body violently shakes. You watch as she rides her orgasm and decide to tease her, so you insert your middle finger and begin to thrust inside her cunt. “Don’t… don’t do that, you’re going to make me come! Stop!” It didn’t take her long for her to reach her second orgasm. “Ahh, fuck! I’m cumming!” as a gush of fluid sprays and her body spasms.

“Wow, I didn’t have to do much. Seems like you don’t relieve yourself often, but that won’t be a problem now that I’m here. You’re going to be a good fucking with me, but now that you had your fun, it’s my turn.”

“Wait, what are you doing?”

“I need to get my fill too, you know.”

“Please… wait,” not letting her finish her sentence as you insert your cock inside. She throws her head back and screams, “Oh fuck! You’re going to mess me up inside!” Her walls tighten around your cock, not used to having your massive length inside of it.

“Your walls want to squeeze my cock, fuck you feel so tight.” You start to pump your cock inside her slippery walls, feeling all the grooves and crevices of her meaty flesh.

You listen to the beautiful sound of Taeyeon’s moaning as you thrust inside of her for what feels like ten minutes. Taeyeon is a complete mess; her hair is ruined, and her body is all sweaty. The tipsy sensation has disappeared, and let her know that you’re about to reach your peak, “Fuck, I’m about to cum.”

“Wait… what did you say?”

“I said I’m about to cum. Where do you want it?”

Puzzled, she tries to come up with an answer, and it is taking longer than what you’re used to. Not wanting to hold it in any longer, you decide where you want to bust your load. Feeling the weird feeling of your cock throbbing your cock she says, “Outside, do it outside,” but it's too late.

The amount of time she wastes on deciding, you end up making the choice for her. You pull your cock out and do one last thrust when you hear her say she wants you to cum outside. Instead, all she hears is, “Fuck! I’m cumming!” Her eyes widen when she hears your comment, and she is bombarded with a large wave of cum flooding her womb.

She cries, “So hot! Pull out!” That only makes you want to shove your cock in deep and paint her womb white.

After finishing your orgasm, you notice Taeyeon looking at her bulging belly, filled with your load. You pull out and watch as she presses her fingers on her stomach, causing a large amount of cum to ooze out. “I told you to do it outside.”

“You took too long, so I made a choice. Plus, I normally cum inside of my girls, so there shouldn’t be an issue, right?”

“But I’m not one of your girls. I’m not IU or Irene.”

“Yeah, you’re right. You are not them, but since you took my hand, you’re mine now.”

“You don’t own me.”

“Haha, says the person with the cum of their boss inside of her.”

She sees your smirk and realizes that you’re right; she does have her belly full of your cum right now. “Don’t smirk.”

“You know, I’m right. How about another round?”

“Another round?”

“Yeah, I mean, if you’re up for it.”

Taeyeon’s pride doesn’t let her back down; she wants to wipe that grin off your face, even if it means going another round. She looks down at you and notices your hardened cock. “Alright, I can do another round.”

“Haha, alright. Let's change the scenery,” as you extend your hand. She takes your hand, and you walk her to the balcony. She looked down and saw the campus and trainees walking in groups back to their dorms after a long Friday night.

You kiss her nape, which causes her to shiver, and her nipples harden. “Put your hands against the railing.”

“Why?”

“Don’t worry. Just let me lead, and enjoy.”

“Okay.”

You raise her right leg up in the air, and with your left hand, you position your cock to her entrance. “What are you do… ahhh” as she feels your cock penetrating her cunt once more. The both of you spend the whole night fucking throughout the penthouse, the balcony, living room, kitchen, and shower. Every time you move locations, you make sure to make the two of you get to orgasm.

————-

Taeyeon wakes up on the bed, looks around, and notices you are gone. She gets up and looks at the many stains throughout the bed, which makes her remember the night she had. She takes a cold shower to wash the stains of fluid on her body, “Ugh… I feel so full.” She presses her stomach and notices a white cream liquid oozing out of her. Pressing her belly harder, a gush of cum squirts out, covering the shower floor cum, “Fuck…that’s too much.”

After her shower, she changed into her clothes and walked out to see you in the living room, reading a newspaper. She walks towards you, “Good morning,” to which you reply, Good Morning, Taeyeon.”

As she walks towards the kitchen, she turns around to ask if she could grab something to eat when she sees IU on her knees. “Ji-eun! What are you doing?”

IU turns around with a smile on her face and replies, “Good Morning, Unnie. I made breakfast, by the way.”

“Why are you going down on him?”

“Oh, I’m having breakfast too. Want some?” as she holds your cock in her hand.

“No!”

“Come on, it's good.”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

She looks at her friend’s satisfied face and remembers the videos she has masturbated to before. She looks at you and back at her, giving her a reply.

You woke up this Saturday morning full of energy. After going on a run early in the morning, you return and enjoy the breakfast your assistant, IU, made for you. You give her a treat as a reward for a job well done.

You turn, you’re done reading your newspaper, set it on the table, and enjoy the sight in front of you. “It’s nice to see two friends sharing a meal together,” you say with a slight grin.

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punkshort · 3 months

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somewhere to run | 8. restrained

Pairing: sheriff!Joel x f!reader

Chapter Summary: Patrick gets released from jail. You and Joel are left to deal with the fallout.

Chapter Warnings: language, angst, hurt/comfort, threats of violence, jealousy, possessiveness, destruction of property, DV is an underlying theme but not explicitly discussed, reminiscing of smut, emotional abuse, reader being called degrading terms for women (not by Joel), infidelity

WC: 8.1K

Series Masterlist

Helen greeted him when he walked through the front doors of the station and he nodded to her in return, just like always. As he walked through the bullpen and a few of his men said good morning or hey, boss, he replied in turn. Everybody was looking at him and treating him like it was any other day. But it wasn't just any other day. He surely must have been walking differently, or maybe his eyes shone a little brighter. Something had to be different because he didn't feel normal anymore. He felt like a brand new man. How was it not obvious? Wasn't it painted across his chest in red? Couldn't they see?

Joel had driven home early from your apartment that morning, the sun barely hanging in the sky in the hopes of avoiding prying eyes this time. At least he had the good sense to park a couple streets over, learning his lesson from the last time he visited you at night.

He had all but given up hope that you would be his one day. Especially after hearing your heart wrenching story, he thought you certainly wouldn't want anything to do with him. With anybody. How would it be possible for someone who had been through what you had been through to trust anyone ever again?

He wouldn't have even blamed you. But somehow, miraculously, you did trust again. And you chose to trust him. You let him into your life, into your heart, into your bed.

Leaving you that morning was the hardest thing he ever did. He was minutes away from calling into work sick, but you insisted he shouldn't, that you would be fine, that you would see him later. He struggled with it, guilt washing over him yet again, not knowing what to do. You were so used to putting up a facade, lying and pretending that everything was okay that you had become frighteningly good at it, sometimes making you difficult to read. The sun peeking over the tops of the trees and the reassurance that Patrick was still in jail, if only for a few more hours, made him finally decide to leave. But the moment he stepped out your front door and fresh air hit his lungs instead of your intoxicating scent, he knew he was done for. He already missed you.

As he pulled into his driveway, he began worrying about later that night. Even with a restraining order, he didn't trust Patrick. He wanted to be with you. But Sarah needed him, too. He had already left her with Tommy the night before and he'd never done that two days in a row.

When he walked into his quiet house, his first instinct was to follow his normal morning routine: shower, dress, coffee, but he stopped himself as he was picking out a fresh set of clothes for the day. He pinched his shirt away from his chest and took a sniff, his eyes fluttering shut for just a moment before letting it go.

He smelled like you.

Deciding to skip the shower, he begrudgingly changed his clothes, hoping that your scent would linger on his skin all day.

He jogged down the stairs as he blindly finished knotting his tie. Heading into the kitchen, he flicked on the coffee pot and grabbed his favorite mug before glancing around the room. He wasn't usually one for breakfast, but he had a feeling it would be a long day, so he swung open the fridge to see what was inside. His eyes immediately landed on an unfamiliar styrofoam box. With a frown, he picked it up and placed it on the counter, then flipped it open to reveal his favorite sandwich from Tommy's diner, completely untouched with a note written on the inside lid.

Weren't at the station, thought I would find you here but I guess I missed you. -T

So, Tommy already knew he wasn't working late and he wasn't home. Shit. It had only been a few hours and he already slipped up.

Carol's voice echoed through his head as he drove to work. A warning veiled as friendly advice to keep things separate. As much as it pained him, he knew he had to be careful. This town was too small and gossip travelled too quickly and he couldn't risk fucking up your case against Patrick all because he couldn't control himself and keep his dick in his pants.

He should have thought about that before he left. He should have talked to you about keeping your relationship a secret, although you seemed to come to that conclusion on your own, having urged him to leave before the town woke.

Hell, he didn't even talk to you about the nature of your relationship at all.

As he walked into the break room and poured his second cup of coffee, he mentally scolded himself for being so stupid. He needed to get his head on straight. Maybe he could lie to Tommy and convince him he went on a walk to clear his head when he had stopped by, when in actuality your thighs were probably trembling over his shoulders while he buried his nose and tongue deep inside your sweet, little -

"Shit!" Joel grumbled, shaking his hand to flick the drops of scalding coffee off his skin before running his fingers under some cool water for relief.

Yeah, he really needed to get his head on straight.

"Hey boss, got a minute?"

Joel glanced up from his computer at Bobby standing in the doorway to his office with his hands on his hips. Shockingly, he had actually managed to get into a groove and gotten some work done. It was probably the longest he'd gone without thinking about you in a while, but he would find his mind wrapping itself back around you in a moment because his deputy was coming to talk to him about the last person on earth he wanted to hear about.

"The asshole's lawyer's here insistin' we let 'em go."

Joel knew he would have to do it today. Patrick posted bail and, legally, Joel was only allowed to hold him for a certain amount of time. But it still made his blood run cold.

He swallowed the lump in his throat and forced himself to stand up, snatching his keys and rounding the desk.

"I'll take care of it."

As Joel made his way to the back of the station, his eye caught a younger man in an expensive looking suit waiting next to Bobby's desk. He was furiously tapping out something on his phone, but when he noticed Joel, he pocketed the device and picked up his leather briefcase from the stack of precariously placed files on the desk.

"Sheriff?" he asked, jogging to catch up with Joel's long strides.

"That's me," he replied gruffly.

"Beckett Kennedy," the man said, stretching out his hand. Joel came to a sudden stop, making Beckett stumble a bit in surprise.

"Joel," he replied, grasping his hand in a firm handshake. His eyes raked over the man's dark, slicked back hair as he tried to ignore his overpowering, and no doubt over-priced, cologne. "Joel Miller."

"Good to meet you. I'm representing -"

"I know, my deputy told me. I'm lettin' him out right now, heard he posted bail. Sorry, been a busy mornin'," Joel replied, turning on his heel to unlock the door that led to the holding cells.

"Much appreciated, Sheriff," Beckett said, trailing after Joel. The man looked very young. Joel was beginning to wonder if maybe Patrick hired a rookie, but when they rounded the corner and Beckett laid eyes on Patrick's bruised and swollen face, Joel quickly realized the lawyer was smarter than he seemed.

"The hell did you do to my client?" Beckett asked, his pleasant demeanor long gone.

"Didn't do anythin'," Joel said calmly as he sifted through the keys in his hand, trying to locate the right one.

"Bullshit. He fucking attacked me in a bar," Patrick said, standing up and gripping the metal bars. Beckett swiveled around to glare at Joel, who was still taking his time finding the key.

"You assaulted my client, Sheriff?"

"Didn't assault anyone," Joel said, finally finding the key and turning it in the lock. He swung the door open and leaned against it, rolling his eyes as Patrick made a big show about limping out of the cell. "Believe you lawyers call it self-defense. Your client swung on me when I was tryin' to have a calm conversation with him 'bout his alcohol consumption that night. Or don't you remember?" Joel asked, turning on Patrick now. "Maybe you had somethin' else in your system besides whiskey that's makin' it hard to recall."

Patrick was about to reply, anger flaring in his eyes, when Beckett held out his hand.

"Don't say a word," he muttered, and Joel grinned when Patrick ruefully clamped his mouth shut. "I don't like what you're insinuating, Sheriff, and all these charges against him are over the line. Two counts aggravated assault, aggravated sexual assault, public intoxication, assaulting an officer-"

"That one's considered a hate crime down here, by the way."

Patrick glared at him and it took everything Joel had not to bash his skull into the iron bars.

Beckett sighed as he scrolled on his phone, reading down the rest of the list of charges silently before glancing back up at the two men and saying your name questioningly.

Hearing your name out of that man's mouth made Joel's whole body ignite with rage. His blood pumped loudly in his ears as he tried to take deep breaths and focus on what they were saying. Keep it separate. Don't fuck this up.

"Yeah, that's my wife," Patrick had said, and again, Joel felt his muscles spasm under his shirt. As if they had a mind of their own, arms itching to reach out and strangle him. Wife. Wife. Wife.

"We're gonna have to talk about this in private," Beckett said to Patrick. Joel took a deep breath, grateful that they were leaving because he wasn't sure if he would be able to hold himself back much longer. But as Joel walked them back out to the front of the station, he felt compelled to say just one more thing.

"Now your client's got a restrainin' order against him. I trust you will make sure he understands what that means if he violates it."

"I know what it fucking means," Patrick spat. "You forget I'm a cop, too? Seems like it, considering the way I've been treated here-"

"That's enough," Beckett said, cutting Patrick off yet again. "Thank you, Sheriff. I'll be in touch."

"I am sure you will," Joel said, leaning against Helen's desk as he watched the two men leave, the front door clicking shut quietly after them.

"Piece of work," Helen muttered as she adjusted her glasses on the tip of her nose and turned back to her computer.

"Yeah, you're tellin' me," Joel sighed. He shoved himself off the desk and headed back to his desk, only pulling his phone out when he had privacy once again.

Joel: He's out.

You stood in the middle of your kitchen staring down blankly at your phone. The two little words taunting you, glaring at you, piercing your skin before knocking the wind out of you.

He's out. He's out. He's out.

You rushed down the stairs and triple checked your locks with shaky fingers before forcing yourself to take a deep breath. It will be okay. This time will be different.

You trudged back up the steps and locked the door behind you, one that you typically left unlocked because you felt it to be more of a hinderance than anything, but going forward you would have to take every precaution. As much as you hated to admit it, you knew Patrick very well. He wouldn't take this lying down. He never has. He will find a way, he will find you and when he gets his hands on you again -

"Stop it," you mumbled to yourself, gently knocking the heel of your hand against your temple, hoping to shake loose the bad thoughts. Just as another wave of panic was about to surge, your phone buzzed again.

Joel: It will be okay. I won't let him touch you.

You took a slow breath in and closed your eyes. How did he know you so well already? How could he know you, inside and out, almost better than you knew yourself?

You knew why.

Because he cares. Because he pays attention and listens and puts your needs first. All of them. Always worried if you ate enough, if you took pain medicine when you were hurting, if you needed a ride back from work, if you could come for him again.

You couldn't live in fear anymore. You finally had someone fighting in your corner, someone who could actually help you, someone you trusted. You needed to be strong. Joel couldn't do everything for you, although you were fairly certain if he could, he would. You picked up your phone and typed out a reply.

You: I know. Thank you.

It was brief, but you knew he needed the reassurance that you were okay. And just as quickly as you sent the message, another popped up on your screen.

Joel: Me and Sarah will pick you up from work tonight and take you home. I'll check your place before I leave.

Tears burned your eyes instantly, overcome with so much gratitude you could just melt into the floor. You hadn't thought about being alone overnight yet, and the idea sent a shock of anxiety through you. Be brave. Be strong.

You: Okay.

Joel: Miss you.

You smiled, your eyes crinkling just enough to cause the tears you were fighting to hold back to fall down your cheeks.

You: I miss you too :)

You took another deep breath and looked around your small living room. You made it this far. You could do this.

It will be different this time.

You had half expected the rest of the waitresses to know what happened when you arrived at the diner that evening. Every time you made eye contact with one of them, you kept waiting for the inevitable look of pity, or their eyes to travel over your face, trying to see past your makeup to what was hidden underneath, but they seemed to treat you exactly the same as always. The butterflies in your stomach quieted down after an hour when you realized Tommy and Maria must have kept their word when Joel asked them to keep your situation private.

At the very least you had expected Maria to try to talk to you about it quietly, or maybe Tommy to make some comment, but they didn't say a word. They welcomed you back to work as if you had been on vacation and you were actually able to push Patrick and the last few days out of your mind. Before you knew it, the dinner rush was nearly over, and you were close to surviving your first shift back. Your legs and feet ached as you unloaded a bus tub in the dish area. You felt sweaty and tired, but you still had a couple hours left in your shift and you could only hope that the rest of the night would be quiet.

"What can I make ya?"

Your head swiveled around in surprise, somehow not hearing one of the cooks, Thor, sneak up on you. He was leaning his big, hulking frame against the wall casually as he waited for your response, as though it wasn't the first time he's ever initiated a conversation with you that wasn't strictly work related. To say he was a big man was an understatement. With tattoo covered arms that were as wide as your torso and towered at least a foot over you, when you first met him, he immediately made you nervous. His intimidating physique and quiet demeanor set you on edge, but by the end of your first day you had realized he was actually very kind. Sure, he kept to himself and didn't say much, but he kept his cool under pressure and he was always doing silent favors for the waitstaff.

"Huh?" was all you could think of to say. He raised an eyebrow at you, giving you a look like it was the most obvious question in the world.

"I said, what can I make ya?" he said again, and then it clicked. He wanted to make you something for dinner. He's never offered before. In fact, you were fairly certain you've never seen him away from the grill once, let alone tracking down waitresses in the dish room for a chat.

"Oh," you said, setting the empty bus tub down and looking around uncomfortably. "You don't have to -"

"If you don't pick somethin', I'm makin' you a BLT."

You met his eyes again, trying to figure out what spurred this on, but his expression gave nothing away.

"Tommy told you, didn't he?" you asked quietly. He gave a small shrug and crossed his arms.

"Don't know what you're talkin' 'bout."

You dropped your gaze to the floor, trying to hide your reaction. He was just offering to make you a sandwich, but it was more than that. He was trying to do something to help. Essentially an acquaintance, a step up from a stranger, he was attempting to reach out and offer his support, in his own way.

He must have seen your eyes grow misty because he pushed off the wall with a grunt, ready to make a hasty exit.

"BLT it is," he said gruffly, and just as he was about to turn to leave, you spoke.

"With turkey?"

He glanced at you and you swore you saw the corner of his bearded mouth twitch, the muscles trying to pull into a smile, but he wouldn't let them. He gave you a quick nod and then headed back behind the line. You bit your lip to try to hold back your smile as you wiped your hands on your apron, then headed out the door back into the dining room.

It was getting close to the end of the night. The diner was closing in thirty minutes and there were only two tables left in the building. With any luck, you would be able to get out of there on time, eager to climb into the safety of Joel's truck. You had been nervous about sleeping alone now that Patrick was out of jail, but now all you could think about was curling up in your bed that hopefully still smelled like Joel.

You were wiping down the coffee machines when you heard the door open and Maria greet a customer. You groaned inwardly when you heard her tell them that the counter was open, and you hoped it was just someone who maybe wanted coffee and a piece of pie so you could still get out on time. Glancing up through the kitchen window, you spotted Thor and Tommy putting away the salad bar and listening to a hockey game over the radio. You sighed, now wishing more than ever that the customer didn't want anything complicated since the kitchen was nearly all broken down for the night.

The fake smile that you plastered across your face fell when you turned around, and you felt all the blood drain from your face when you met a pair of cold, familiar eyes set around a broken nose, waiting for you.

"Y-you can't be he-"

"I know, just listen to me, alright?" Patrick pleaded, looking guilty for maybe the first time in his life.

You looked over his shoulder at Maria, but she was too busy sweeping the foyer to notice what was happening.

"Please look at me, baby."

"Don't call me that," you said softly, but still, your eyes involuntarily slid back to him.

You saw his jaw clench as he cracked a knuckle in his finger, but he forced a smile anyway.

"I guess I deserved that," he admitted, leaning forward as his eyes raked up and down your body. "You look good. Uniform's sexy."

"Stop it," you said, your voice a little firmer now, but still too quiet.

"What? I can't compliment my own wife?" he said with a smile and a tilt of his head. You just stared at him, not sure what to say, worried about setting him off again. After a moment, he sighed and leaned back.

"Can I get a coffee? My head's fucking killing me."

You hesitated and glanced around the dining room, watching as one of the two tables got up. Maria wished them good night as they left, and she continued to clean up the foyer.

"What do you want?" you finally asked, your eyes flicking back to him.

"I just told you," he said, his voice taking on a menacing tone. "I want a cup of coffee and I want to talk to my fucking wife."

You took a shaky breath in and reached down below the counter for a mug. This was the Patrick you were used to.

"And then you'll go?"

His eyes narrowed at you and his jaw ticked to the side, but eventually he nodded.

"Yeah. And then I'll go."

Your hand trembled as you picked up the coffee pot and filled a mug. Turning back around, you stepped forward and placed the cup in front of him, realizing a moment too late that you were within arms length of him, but fortunately he didn't do anything. Hurriedly, you stepped backwards a few feet, creating some distance.

His eyes slowly lifted up from the steaming mug as he stared at you, something sinister flickering behind his eyes. Something that sent a shiver down your spine and made your heart begin beating twice as fast.

"You-"

He stopped himself as he clenched his fists and took a deep breath, then tried again.

"You fucking whore."

Your eyes widened and you stumbled back, your shoulder blades knocking against the behemoth of a coffee machine. Sweat was beginning to accumulate at the base of your skull as your fear spiked.

Patrick stood up from his stool and beckoned you forward. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the last table get up to leave and part of you was relieved. At least whatever was going to happen wouldn't involve innocent customers.

His face was growing hot as he beckoned you forward again, accidentally knocking the coffee over with a clatter, the dark liquid trailing like a lazy river down the counter. And this time, you shook your head.

"I fucking smell him on you, you slut!" he growled lowly, anger and fury lacing every word.

You gasped, your hands coming up to clamp over your mouth as tears began to cloud your vision.

"There a problem here?"

Both of you jumped when Tommy's voice rang out from somewhere next to you.

"No, there's no problem," Patrick said, unphased by Tommy's presence. "Just trying to talk to my wife, do you mind?"

"Actually, I do. Pretty sure you ain't allowed to be around her right now," Tommy said, taking a step forward, almost standing between you now. Maria's head popped up from a booth when she heard the tone in Tommy's voice and she quickly made her way to the hostess stand, picking up the phone and dialing.

"Pretty sure that's none of your fucking business," Patrick sneered, eyeing Tommy up and down. "The fuck you gonna do about it?"

"Call the police, for one," Tommy quipped, and Patrick scoffed.

"Oh, your sheriff? That motherfu-" Patrick's voice trailed off as he froze, his eyes going round as he actually stumbled backwards, his gaze fixed on something behind you both. When you turned around, you found Thor was standing quietly right behind you, staring Patrick down. Quite literally, as he towered over him by a good five or six inches.

Thor placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, urging you to the side so he could step forward.

"You wanna try that again, boy?" Thor asked, his voice taking on a tone you never heard from him before.

"You got guard dogs now? How many men in this town are you fucking?" Patrick shouted, craning his neck to try to look at you, but Tommy stepped forward again, blocking his view.

"She's one of our own. We don't take too kindly to people talkin' to one of us like that around here," Tommy said, squaring his jaw.

"Jesus Christ," Patrick muttered, then huffed out a disbelieving laugh before glancing around the dining room. He realized his options were limited, so he began to back away.

"Fine. I'll leave," he said, looking at Thor and holding his palms up in defeat.

"Good idea," Tommy said, still not moving until Patrick slowly backed up towards the doors, trying and failing to think of one more jab to get in before he disappeared. Maria quickly locked the doors and twisted around, eyes wide.

"I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed, rushing towards you. "I had no idea, I didn't know what he looked like-"

"It's okay," you said, waving her off and sagging against the counter, your body suddenly feeling weak.

"I called the station, Bobby will be here in a minute. Let's take you to the office so you can have some privacy."

Maria wrapped her arm around your shoulder, turning you towards the kitchen, but just as you were about to walk through the door, you stopped and turned around to look at Thor and Tommy.

"Thank you," you whispered, your bottom lip trembling. They both looked at you, Tommy waving you off with a smile, about to say something, but Thor unexpectedly spoke up.

"Don't need to thank us. Like he said, you're one of us now. We look out for each other."

You were pretty sure even Tommy was surprised by the amount of words Thor said at once because he slowly turned his head to look up at him in shock.

You gave Thor a small smile and nodded before letting Maria lead you to the back.

"When do you think I'll have a shift where we don't have to get the police involved?" you asked Maria, and she chuckled. It had been about twenty minutes and the adrenaline was wearing off. You were beginning to feel more like yourself again, more at ease. Maybe having people in your life know the truth wasn't actually a bad thing. You felt safe. You felt protected. And most of all, you felt like you belonged. But you also felt an unshakable cloud of guilt and fear. Guilt for dragging innocent people into your drama, and fear that Patrick won't back down so easily next time someone tries to stand up for you.

"To be fair, the Marcus thing could have happened to any one of us. You just got lucky that day."

You laughed and leaned your head against the wall.

"Yeah, guess you're right."

There was a soft knock on the office door and Maria stood to open it. You rolled your head to the side then straightened up when Joel walked in, looking frazzled and shaken up with the curls on top of his head messier than usual, most likely from his fingers anxiously combing through them.

His eyes locked onto you immediately and you could tell he was holding back. His hands fidgeted at his sides as he fought the urge to pull you into his arms. He glanced back and forth between you and Maria before clearing his throat.

"Sarah's out front. I didn't tell her what happened, didn't wanna scare her. D'you mind-"

"Of course not," Maria said, already understanding what he needed. "I'll take her in the back, let her pick out a dessert or two."

"Thank you," Joel said, waiting until she walked away before he shut the door and turned back to you.

"I'm so sorry," he said, quickly stepping forward to wrap his arms around you. You sighed, your arms draping around his neck as you leaned into his chest, breathing in his familiar, comforting scent. Your muscles instantly relaxed in his hold, your mind went blank and all of your worries, the guilt and the fear, began to drift away.

"I'm okay," you murmured into his shirt, but he just squeezed you tighter.

"I shoulda been here."

"You can't be here all the time, Joel," you said, leaning back to look up at him. "I know you want to do it all, and it's so sweet, but it's impossible." You reached up to cup his face, your thumb rubbing across his stubbled cheek gently. His eyes were still filled with worry, so you stretched up on your tiptoes, brushing your lips softly against his. He responded quickly, lips massaging yours before he pulled away all too soon. He let his forehead rest against yours and sighed heavily, his arms still holding you flush against him.

"I got three cars out lookin' for him. We'll find him and toss him back in jail."

You nodded, your eyes closed as you leaned against him, perfectly content to stay that way until your legs gave out.

"'Til we find him, you shouldn't be alone. Tommy said you could stay with them, or you could stay with me." He tried to keep the hope out of his voice, wanting you to make your choice without his influence, but he desperately hoped you would take him up on his offer.

"I-" you paused, eyes still closed, guilt slowly swelling back up in your chest. "Maybe we shouldn't confuse Sarah," you finally decided to say, and you felt his shoulders slump under your arms.

He wanted to argue with you, wanted to convince you to stay with him, but he didn't. He didn't say anything. He just nodded and stepped back. When your arms slid down from around his neck, he caught your wrist and brought it to his mouth, pressing a warm kiss against your pulse before letting you go.

You stared at one another for a long moment, so many things you both wanted to say, but couldn't.

A sudden trill filled the room. An upbeat tune playing from deep within his pocket. He slid his hand down to pluck out his phone from his pants, his thumb sliding over the screen before answering.

"Yeah?"

You took a step back and crossed your arms over your chest, watching as his eyes drifted around the office while he listened to whoever was on the other end of the call. He stared blankly at some old bankers boxes filled with receipts underneath the desk as he nodded along, his thumb coming up to rub anxiously against his lower lip.

As the phone call continued, with Joel only giving brief answers, you heard a knock at the door. You cracked it open then pushed it further when you saw Tommy waiting on the other side. He stepped into the small space, his mouth open about to ask Joel a question until he realized he was on the phone, then turned to you, instead.

"Any luck?"

"I don't think so," you said, shaking your head.

"We got a spare room, you can stay with us tonight. If you want, that is," Tommy offered awkwardly. You gave him a tight smile in return.

"Yeah, I - if you don't mind, that would be great."

Just as Tommy was about to answer, Joel turned around to face you both, shoving his phone back into his pocket.

"Can't find him," he said, trying to mask the frustration he was feeling, but you could see the muscles in his neck tense.

"Why don't you take her back to her place so she can get some things, then drop her off at our house? I'll take Sarah, you can pick her up when you come by. I'll make somethin' up 'bout a burst pipe or whatever," Tommy suggested, and again you could see Joel's exasperation seeping through as his eyes shifted back and forth between you and his brother, but he eventually agreed.

Joel drove you back to your apartment in silence. It was only a few minute drive, but it felt like it was an hour. So many things swirled around in your head, words sitting on the tip of your tongue, but you couldn't get them out. You were beginning to feel like a burden. You were asking so much of him and this poor town. The guilt was weighing you down, suffocating you, and you wished you had just run again when you had the chance, but then his hand slid across the console and his fingers brushed against yours and your selfishness won. You allowed his fingers to lace together with yours as his eyes remained focused on the road, looking for a parking spot and again, the words were right there. I need you. I hate that I'm so much trouble. I'm sorry.

"Alright," Joel said, pulling his hand back and cutting the engine. "I had one of my guys drive by earlier, but just in case, I'm goin' in first. You wait for me at the bottom of the stairs, door locked behind you til I come and get you. Got it?"

Only when you quickly nodded did he allow you to exit the truck. You stayed behind him as he approached your door, giving the knob and experimental twist before reaching his hand back towards you, waiting for your keys. You fumbled for a moment and handed him the correct one.

The door had been locked. You just assumed everything would be fine, but you would soon find out you were wrong.

You stood at the bottom of the stairs like you promised, watching as Joel walked up the steps, pulling his gun out only once he reached the top, then disappeared into your kitchen. You shifted your weight nervously, lower lip pulling between your teeth as your ears strained to try to figure out where he was. The place was very small, it shouldn't take that long. After several minutes without a sound, your curiosity got the better of you.

"Joel?" you called up quietly, and you finally saw the shadow of his frame darken the doorway before he appeared and looked down at you, his face unreadable.

"It's clear, but..." he trailed off, his eyes casting over his shoulder before looking down at you again. "He was here."

"What?" you asked, your eyebrows shooting up in surprise. "But the door-"

"I dunno," Joel said with a sigh before pulling his phone out and dialing a number. "Maybe he made a copy of your key or somethin'."

You shakily sat down on the bottom step, his words repeating over and over in your head. How could you be so stupid? Have you learned nothing? He could have killed you and these locks wouldn't have done a damn thing.

You vaguely heard Joel talking to one of his men over the phone, presumably asking whoever had stopped by your place earlier if there was anything suspicious that jumped out at him, but it didn't matter now. Just when you thought he couldn't violate you any more, he did. He had been in your space. In your safe haven. What did he do?

"Joel?" you called out again, standing up and leaning forward. You wanted to obey him and stay at the bottom of the stairs like you promised, but you needed to see what Patrick did. Joel was still talking on the phone, unable to hear you, so instead of calling out again, you went up. When you walked through the doorway, you gasped.

All of your plates, glasses, mugs, dishware were shattered in tiny pieces all over the kitchen floor. Cupboards were left open, food was poured all over the countertops, spilling down the wood cabinet doors and mixing with broken glass on the floor.

You kept your shoes on and tiptoed into the living room where you heard Joel's voice speaking lowly into the phone. You covered your mouth as you looked around the room. The few plants you had were smashed, dirt was spewed and ground into the old carpet. Books were flung onto the floor, some pages even ripped out, and the couch was turned upside down, thrown against the wall. You barely even noticed the TV was lying on its side, the screen smashed, because you were fixated on the holes punched and kicked into the walls, pieces of plaster and dust piled up on the floor under each one.

Eventually, you must have made a noise because Joel swiveled around to look at you.

"I'll call you back," he said into the phone, and hung up before rushing over to you. "I told you to wait downstairs."

"I know, but -" you lost your voice, unable to continue. Your whole life was in this apartment, and now it was destroyed. How long did it take? Minutes? An hour? Was that really all it took to pick up your entire world and shake it like a snow globe?

"It's just stuff," he said, trying to reassure you. "It can all be replaced. You can't be replaced, though. You hear me?"

You looked up at him, tears already streaming down your face. His eyes softened and he sighed before pulling you against his chest, his strong hands wrapping themselves around your middle, cradling your head against his pounding heart as you sobbed.

"What am I going to do?" you wondered out loud, your voice muffled against his shirt.

"Stay with me."

He felt you stiffen in his arms and he looked down at you.

"Please. I'd feel better if you stayed with me. Just until we find him, okay?"

"Okay," you agreed, trying not to show your relief but you already felt safer just knowing you would be under his watch that night. You still worried about Sarah, but you would make sure she knew you were sleeping on the couch. You refused to complicate Joel's life any further than you already had.

"Okay," he repeated, his voice soft. He leaned back and swiped a thumb over your cheek, drying your tears. "Let's see if we can get any of your clothes. Then we'll go get Sarah and go home."

Home.

You nodded and let him lead you to your bedroom, grabbing a tote bag from your small closet as you began to rifle through your dresser drawers.

Patrick had tossed your clothes around your room, but they didn't look like they were destroyed. It probably would have taken too long, you realized, as you packed a bag with whatever you could think of, ignoring how your comforter and sheets were piled at the foot of your bed, the strong smell of urine emanating from your mattress. When you stood up, you noticed for the first time the stuffed penguin Joel had won for you was torn in half, white fluffy stuffing spilling out in a corner of your room.

Choking back a sob, you walked towards the bathroom, but Joel reached out to stop you.

"What d'you need? I'll get it."

"What do you mean?" you asked, giving him a confused look as you wiped your nose on the back of your hand. "Why can't I -"

"Just tell me what you need and I'll grab it for you," he said, not allowing you to ask the question. You stared at him, trying to figure out what could possibly be worse than urine on your bed. When neither of you budged, you brushed past him and flicked on the light.

You only paused for a moment, Joel standing right behind you as you read the words repeatedly scrawled all over the mirror and walls with the few lipsticks you owned. Whore. Slut. Badge Bunny. Cunt.

You swallowed and looked down, averting your gaze to focus on packing your toiletries as quickly as you could. You heard Joel say your name softly from the doorway, but you ignored him and continued to throw things into your bag - shampoo, toothbrush, whore, face wash, slut, hair brush, deodorant.

A chill went down his spine as he watched your face harden and your eyes glaze over. Memories of how you pulled away from him in the past came creeping back: the cologne, the robbery, your marriage... Patrick, and everything he's done. He couldn't let you slip through his fingers again.

"I'm ready," you said numbly, pushing past him and heading to the door.

Joel followed you outside, making sure to lock up after, although you could hardly see the point, with what little belongings you had left clutched in your hand.

He jumped into the driver's seat and started the truck, glancing sideways at you, trying to figure out what to say to give you some comfort, but he was coming up empty.

"He knows," you said after a few painfully silent minutes. Joel flicked his gaze to you quickly before focusing back on the road, immediately knowing what you meant.

"How-"

"He said he could smell you on me," you told him, refusing to look at him as shame coursed through your veins.

Joel flinched. Now he was reading those words on your wall differently. Now he knew Patrick wrote those things because of him, and it made him feel sick.

"Did you say anythin'?"

"No," you said, shaking your head, still staring out your window. "Of course not."

"Good," he said. "That's... good. I mean-" he glanced over at you again, stumbling over his words. "Not good, it just-"

"I know what you're trying to say, Joel," you said quietly.

He tapped his fingers nervously against his thigh as another tense silence filled the truck.

"I'll have someone go over in the mornin', process the scene so we can press additional charges," he said, breaking the quiet. You just continued to stare out the window, exhausted.

"How will you prove it was even him?"

"DNA," was all Joel said, and you closed your eyes. You refused to give the situation any more tears, so you forced them back and opened your eyes, resting your forehead against the glass as Joel drove the short distance to Tommy and Maria's house.

"Why don't you just stay here and I'll go talk to Tommy?" Joel suggested, unbuckling his seatbelt as he turned to look at you. You stared straight ahead and gave him a slight nod.

He scanned your face, wishing he could see you smile again. He reached a hand over and gently squeezed your thigh, finally pulling your gaze off the dashboard and onto him. He hated that look in your eye. A distant, sad, hopeless look that made him want to comb through the whole town until he found Patrick so he could break every bone in his worthless fucking body.

"You're okay," he whispered, lifting his hand off your leg and sweetly pinching your chin between his thumb and index finger.

You forced a small smile, but it didn't reach your eyes. You took his hand in both of yours and brought his knuckles to your lips, closing your eyes as you kissed the back of his hand before pressing it into your soft cheek, and he felt a modicum of relief.

"I'm just tired," you said quietly, hoping that would placate him enough for the time being.

After about fifteen minutes, you saw Joel and Sarah exit Tommy's front door, her backpack slung over one shoulder, still clad in a soccer uniform. You hadn't realized she had a game that night, and you hoped the game had at least ended before Joel dragged her away to come to your rescue because you couldn't stomach ruining one more person's night.

He must have told Sarah you were in the car because she wasn't surprised to see you when she opened the door to the back of the cab.

"Your apartment's wrecked, huh?" she asked as she buckled her seatbelt. You looked at her, surprised, as Joel twisted around in his seat.

"We told her 'bout the burst pipe," he said, making sure to hold eye contact with you until you nodded in understanding.

"Yeah, it's a mess. Thanks for letting me crash with you," you said, turning to give her a smile. She grinned and nodded.

"It'll be fun. Can we do movie night tomorrow instead of Saturday, Dad?"

"It's a school night-"

"Please! Dad, please! She might not be here on Saturday," she whined.

Joel sighed and rubbed his eyes as he waited for a streetlight to turn green. You could tell he was exhausted, too, so you turned back towards Sarah to try to help.

"Tell you what. If I'm back in my apartment by Saturday, I'll still come by for movie night. Deal?"

Sarah thought it over for a moment before nodding.

"Deal."

Satisfied, she sat back in her seat and hummed along to the radio as she gazed out the window. Joel tilted his face towards you and mouthed thank you, and you smiled in return before looking out your own window.

You weren't sure what you expected when you saw Joel's house, but once you saw it, you could tell it was undeniably his. It was a remodeled two-story white farmhouse. There wasn't much in the way of decor, but what he did have was simple and tasteful. There were framed family photos that littered the mantle and bookcase, and the sparse art that hung on the walls were mostly landscapes. It just felt like him. Rustic, homey, and comfortable.

The light fixtures in the kitchen were dated, and the cupboards looked old, but in true Joel fashion, everything worked. Everything was taken care of. Not a single loose handle, squeaky hinge or burnt-out lightbulb in the place.

It was just after ten at night by the time the three of you arrived home. Joel urged Sarah to go get ready for bed while he walked down the small hallway to grab some linens from the downstairs bathroom. He dropped them on the couch and pointed up the stairs, where Sarah had just disappeared.

"You can have my bedroom, I'll take the couch. Lemme show you-"

"I can't let you do that, I'll sleep on the couch," you insisted, taking a step towards the living room but he wrapped his arm around you and pulled your back against his chest, his nose getting buried in your hair. You sighed and melted against him, weak and completely drained.

"Want you safe and sound in my bed. Please," he murmured against your ear. "I won't be able to sleep otherwise." You didn't have the strength to argue.

"Joel?" you whispered, your eyes closed as you relaxed into him further, letting him lightly sway you side to side as he nuzzled the back of your neck.

"Hmm?"

"Thank you. For... everything."

You wished you could put your gratitude into words, but everything you thought to say didn't seem like nearly enough.

"Don't want you to thank me," he mumbled before taking a deep breath. "But can you promise me somethin'?"

You frowned and turned around in his arms so you could look at him, waiting for him to continue.

"Don't shut me out, okay?" he asked softly, his fingers caressing your cheek. "I want you to talk to me, tell me what's goin' on in there," he said, gently tapping the side of your head. "No matter what it is, just... talk to me."

"I'm sorry," you whispered, feeling guilty, yet again. "I'm just not used to having anyone."

"You got me now, okay?" he said, giving you a quick kiss and then pulling back when he heard the water turn off in the bathroom above your heads. "I ain't goin' anywhere."

You gave him a small smile and took his hand as he led you upstairs. He made it crystal clear that the two of you were sleeping apart as he showed you his room, knowing that Sarah would have heard from the other side of the bathroom door. But before he left, a pair of pajamas in one hand and a pillow in the other, he gave you one more kiss, letting his lips linger until he heard Sarah flick the bathroom light off.

"You know where I am if you need me," he said, his voice once again a little louder than usual, for Sarah's benefit. He winked at you and shut the door, leaving you all alone in his bedroom.

Taglist: @harriedandharassed@merz-8@sarap-77@nandan11@anoverwhelmingdin@fandomscollide@survivingandenduring@honeyedmiller@pedropascalsbbg@southernbe@pedrosfanny@gobaaby-blog-blog @eloquentdreamer @yomiyasxx @mrsparknuts@missladym1981@spacedoutdaydreamer @cosmic006533-blog @prettyinpunk85@maried01 @sunnyskyapplepie @sawymredfox@gobaaby-blog-blog@stevie75@mxtokko@sleepylunarwolf@lizzie-cakes@laurrrra@annieispunk@here4thedilfs @navystandardheatingoilcap @slugz-writes-shit@devilbat@ashleyfilm@scp116@tragerlover@iveseenstrangerthings50 @yvonneeeee @brittmb115@lulawantmula@abbysgirlll@ro-nahime-things@whxtedreams@ashhlsstuff@little-pookie@serenadingtigers@paleidiot@ashy-kit@lizlil@detectivejuliuspepperwood@buckyispunk @fckinel @sarahhxx03

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel the last of us #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller angst #joel miller series #joel miller x reader #sheriff!joel #STR fic #the last of us hbo #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal

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cosmictheo · 1 year

Text

𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐋 | 𝐣𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫

(gif credits to @jdmorganz)

— summary: during a stormy night at bill and frank's house, joel teaches you how to hold your gun, and this opens up the perfect opportunity for the two of you to finally release all the feelings of longing and lust you've been repressed for each other over the past few weeks. —pairing: joel miller x female!reader —word count: 3.8k —warnings: just the reader and joel being horny and a complete slut for each other, some implied sexual scenes, age gap (reader is in her 20s), horny teaching on how to wield a gun, bill being the grumpy dad, frank being the nice dad<3

joel's playlist i made for inspo

writer’s note: english is not my mother tongue, so please forgive me if there is a grammatical error. hope you like it!

He came walking into your life as if he already owned it. With that dark flannel, tight jeans around his thick thighs and a face as grumpy as Bill's, and that was saying too much. He looked like a fucking Greek god with his tanned face fucking glowing in the sunlight. It was his fifth visit in your shared house with Bill and Frank, and you wanted him just as much as the first time.

Frank had noticed how you had watched him the first time you had welcomed him into your home, eyes lingering long seconds to analyze his strong jaw, brown eyes, he was sure you would be taking him to your room at any moment, if the man would let you, something that was obviously effective, as he looked at you with the same goofy expression on his face, eyes glowing curious with desire. He shared a knowing look with his partner sitting next to him as they both analyzed the way you were taking longer than expected to pour more wine into Joel's already empty glass, his eyes watching you intently.

“Thank you, darlin'.” The pet name rolling throguh his tongue, in that tone of voice so low and husky that made you crack a smile, caramel eyes tracing a discreet path across the wide cleavage of your summer dress, trailing up your collarbones and neck, until they met yours, already set upon him, of course.

That interaction had been in your wettest dreams. You rarely dreamed, but Joel of course had to be the one to change that habit of yours.

And you could have sworn the reaction hadn't been much different for Joel's side, for you doubted he was dumb enough not to fall for the little games you'd been playing the last few weeks. No. He was a smart man. And he knew exactly what he was doing when he looked at you with that dark, longing gaze and brushed his fingers against yours 'accidentally'.

You were helpless, spinning around him― and he was ruthless, giving you just the right reasons to feel that way.

You pushed any over-lustful and delusional thoughts from your mind, taking a long sip of your wine, savoring the delicious bittersweet taste on your tongue and with it, trying to refocus again on the conversation taking place at the table.

Dinner had been indoors this time, as dark, angry clouds carpeted the usually bluish sky, their presence threatening to unleash a great storm at any moment now. And because of this, Frank was beginning to notice himself getting more worried by the hour.

“You really should stay in tonight, at least until the storm passes.” He proposed, setting his fork down beside his empty plate, friendly and sweet look traveling to the two guests you had at home.

Bill, sitting next to him, grunted, totally objecting against his partner's proposition, of course. “Frank.”

Joel finished drinking his own wine and then shared a glance with Tess sitting next to him, conversing telepathically, you guessed. Sometimes you were genuinely curious about the kind of relationship the two of them had, though you weren't sure if it could even be considered as such, since they only treated each other as friends, very close friends. Maybe they fucked on occasionally. Only they knew that, but the mere thought made your stomach twist.

Tess shook her head, offering you all one of her swift smiles. “We wouldn't want to intrude—”

You were quick to interrupt her, eyes wandering from Joel to her, fingers fiddling with the wine glass between them. Your face lit up as you offered her a reassuring smile.

“Bullshit. We won't sleep today knowing you guys are out there with that storm raging overhead.” Frank nodded, agreeing with you, giving a discreet nudge to Bill's side, who had just grumbled when he heard you were on Frank's side, obviously. “'Mid the rain it's hard to hear much more than your own footsteps.”

“She's right.” Joel muttered, looking at you for a few long seconds before turning to his companion, long, dark lashes smoothing his cheekbones as he blinked.

You drank the last sip of wine contained in the wine glass in your hand as you watched him intently, trying to decipher what was going through his head, analyzing the expression on his handsome face.

“Plus, it's going to get dark soon and that doesn't make the situation any better.” Frank added, trying to persuade them, always proving to have that huge heart he had. His eyebrows raised slightly as he noticed the defeated expression on Bill, him knowing too that he was right, as much as they didn't like the guests, they were Frank's friends, or the closest thing to it.

“Alright.” Tess finally replied, smiling sheepishly. “Thanks, guys.”

“No problem, honey.” Frank shook his hand gently, giving no further interest to the subject. And then he stood up, smiling sweetly at both guests. “I'll show you the guest rooms. You can choose the one you like the most, we have plenty of space.”

Tess followed him down the hall, thanking him again for allowing them to stay, making Frank laugh.

Bill stood up as well, grabbing his plate and Joel was quick to copy his action, but he dismissed him. “Leave it to me. (Y/N) will show you the way to your room.”

He gave you a knowing, warning look before turning his back on you and heading for the kitchen, you rolled your eyes at that.

Joel nodded his head softly, standing awkwardly as he watched Bill make his way towards the kitchen with a couple of dirty dishes in his hands. No more seconds had to pass before his eyes returned to you, still sitting in your seat, and already looking up at him. His gaze softened against yours and you felt the honey color of his orbs draw you to them like a never-ending pool, a caramel sea.

“I suppose you'll want to take a bath first, right?” You questioned looking up at him, batting your eyelashes, you noticed how the curve of his lips curved into a small smile, noticing your pretty big eyes focusing only on him. “I don't even want to think about since when you haven't washed your old ass.”

Joel let out a chuckle now, chest expanding against the fabric of his flannel and eyes softening so beautifully that you had the sudden urge to kiss every single mark on his skin. “Honestly, I don't want to think about that either.”

You offered him a sweet smile. “I can lend you some clothes if you want.”

“That would be great.” He nodded his head, returning the smile this time, a real smile. “Thank you, darlin'.”

And there was the pet name again. Goddamn.

His hands were hiding in the pockets of his jeans, a hint that let you knew that he was either nervous or uncomfortable, you weren't quite sure what it was, but your presence definitely caused a reaction in him.

“Follow me, cowboy.” You motioned with your head as you passed him, heading towards the stairs.

He heeded you instantly, steps hurrying to keep up with you, eyes scanning your body from behind, pausing for a few moments at the way your tight pants molded to the curve of your hips and ass, moving up your waist. He had never been jealous of an article of clothing until that moment.

He even imagined his hands running over your body, molding your waist the way your pants did throughout the shower he took, once you handed him a pair of sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt you wore to bed from time to time. The thoughts and fantasies of all the positions he wanted you in his mind made his shower go fast, too fast. He couldn't get you out of his head, Joel felt like he would go crazy at any moment.

And when he finally turned off the hot water and dried off, and got dressed in the clothes you had lent him, he had to close his eyes for a few moments, letting himself fall into the exquisite sweet scent that they were impregnated with. Your scent.

And the fact that he would be sleeping just on the other side of your bedroom wall had his head spinning.

Before passing in front of your room, he took a sigh, shaking his head lightly, in an attempt to push all the filthy thoughts away. He felt like a fucking pervert.

A smile rose to his lips as he peeked through the open door of your room, leaning against the threshold.

“Ain't that a pretty sight.” He grumbled in an amused tone, his forearm rising against the wood, eyes analyzing you as you fiddled with your small pistol, baggy polo shirt brushing a little lower than your bare thighs, loose hair falling down your shoulders.

A feeling of shame rose in his chest, feeling that he had intruded too much, for this was your territory, your personal space and he had simply barged in against the boundaries, a girl who was at least 20 years younger than him, but, it was also true that really, at that point, he wasn't thinking straight, he didn't see clearly anymore, he only saw you, the prettiest girl he had seen in decades, maybe in his whole life.

Your eyes fell on him on your door, allowing you a couple of seconds to admire how good he looked in the gray sweatpants, of course you had passed them to him on purpose and dear God, what a good view. His dark hair was still damp and a couple of gray locks were falling down his forehead, and due to the width of the shirt, you could see a tantalizing glimpse of his chest.

“My pajamas look better on you than on me, damn. That Strokes shirt? It totally fits you.” You commented in a joking tone, now taking the gun in your right hand and lowering it.

Joel rolled his eyes at your playful voice, already used to your jokes, which were usually directed at him in the last few weeks, having left your former spotlight on Bill behind, fortunately for him.

“Have you ever shot that thing in your life, kid?” A single eyebrow rose on his brow, him taking on that playful tone now, full of pure shared complicity, just the two of you.

“Not really.” You replied simply, eyeing the gun in your hand still and maintaining an innocent voice.

Joel hesitated for a few moments, but asked the question anyway. “Then how come you were out there all those months by yourself?”

His gaze was filled with curiosity and confusion, crossing his arms now. You thought he had done it completely on purpose and also that he had caught you ogling his flexing biceps, but he remained silent, waiting for your answer.

You just smiled. “I have my ways.”

And he knew what that meant, for any fool would give his life protecting you and defending you from any goddamned thing that threatened your well being if you claimed to stay by their side. And fools, there were many, as many as there used to be. He considered himself a fool too, in that case.

“Hm…” he hummed, not wanting to push you any further with questions about the past, "let me see your shooting stance then, smartass."

Curiosity rose on your pretty face at his words, but you heeded his command, grabbing the gun with both of your hands now and positioning your feet and legs as you assumed was a shooting stance, of course purposely misplacing it.

“You plan to shoot somethin' standin' up like that?” Joel questioned, analyzing you disapprovingly, but, his brown eyes sparkled with amusement. “Bill would really dislike to see you right now.”

You snorted, rolling your eyes. “Bill dislikes looking at me at any time.”

“What are you talkin' about? The man adores you.” And who wouldn't? He wanted to have added. Joel sighed. “Stay right there.” Uncrossing his arms and making his way over to you, he finally entered your room, once and for all.

Your breath hitched as he positioned himself behind you, so close you could feel the heat radiating from his body, the beating of his heart in his chest and his warm, minty breath against your neck.

His hands went around your body while with one leg he gently spread yours as far apart as necessary. His fingers brushed against the skin of your arms as they lengthened, hands covering yours completely around the weapon now.

“Left squeezes down on the right, like this.” He guided you as he gave your hands a gentle squeeze under his, positioning them correctly. His breath brushed against the back of your neck as he spoke in a low tone so thick you felt it's vibrations throughout your body, your heart beginning to pound. “Take your finger off the trigger or you may cause a problem. You only put it on the trigger when you go to shoot, okay?”

“Okay.” Your lips quivered as did your voice, speaking almost as faintly as a tiny mouse.

“You need to bend over a little for me now, sweetheart.” He whispered against your ear, his southern accent making your heart skip a beat. “Arms outstretched, hands straight— that's it.” You remained silent, completely speechless, for the only thing that could ever come out of your throat would be a fucking whimper. Your body would melt at any moment against his.

Seeing that you maintained the correct position of your hands and arms, his hands now moved down to your waist, positioning your hips as they were meant to be.

“Your hips have to hold your whole body, keep them steady— firm, your feet too.” His little finger lightly brushed against the bare skin of your thigh as he moved your hips, making you exhale air through your teeth. “That's it, good girl.”

Under his palms he could feel the straps of your panties through the thin fabric of your shirt and the and the thrill and heat of it all rushed through his body, right down towards his crotch.

“Mhm… you're not half bad.” He opined taking in your entire posture now, lifting his head slightly over your shoulder, his hands venturing slowly up your waist, uncovering and molding every curve they traversed. His breath collided against your neck, giving you goosebumps. “You're not bad at all, kid.”

You swallowed saliva and dared to finally turn your head, meeting his face inches from yours. His nose had always struck you as one of the most attractive things about him, and seeing it from that angle it really was something else. You wondered what it would feel like to sit on it. Fucking hell.

Your eyes moved from his down his face, until they stopped on his lips, the mere image made you lick yours, half-opening them, almost able to taste them on your own.

He half-opened his mouth and you didn't have to look at his eyes to know he was hesitant, unsure, but, despite all the thousand emotions he felt, he stayed right there, hands clasping your waist, pulling you as close to his body as possible. Waiting for your next move. Probably thinking you'd slap him right there for being an old fucking creep, maybe you'd shoot him too.

But, what you actually did was lean closer to him, twisting your head in a not so comfortable and natural way, but which was certainly worth it once you joined your lips with his.

And it didn't take Joel more than a second to fall into what was really going on and adapt to it with pleasure, following your lips and closing his eyes with delight. His hands tightened around your waist, turning you in his arms so he could kiss you better, twisting his head slightly, nose brushing against yours in the movement.

Without even opening your eyes, you dropped the gun ;―completely empty, by the way― and your hands went up his chest, wrapping around his neck as you made him walk backwards, his back meeting the door, which at the force, closed until his back was pressed against it, with you secured firmly between his arms.

A breathy little moan climbed up your throat as Joel nibbled on your lower lip gently, breaking the kiss and allowing you both to catch your breaths. And he can swear that that little sound he got out of your mouth is how they receive him in heaven.

His eyes remained closed for a few more moments, still savoring your exquisite taste in his mouth.

One of his hands rested on your face, cradling your cheek, thumb gently caressing your cheekbone. His eyes, though dilated, were as soft as ever once he opened them again.

Joel sighed against your mouth, trying to catch his breath, calming all the lust that threatened to take over his whole body. “We really shouldn't.”

But the truth was that he did want to, he did want you, with all his body and soul, every part of him was screaming out pleas to just let himself be carried away by you, to let himself fall into your hands.

You looked up at him with big eyes, confused by his words and totally astonished by what had just happened, but shook your head lightly, your fingers toying with the hair at the nape of his neck, feeling it still wet.

“You…” your voice sounded hesitant, face falling with sadness, perhaps disappointment well, “you don't want me?”

Joel felt his chest tighten as he saw fear peek through the beautiful look in your eyes and quickly rushed to reassure you. He would have laughed at how truly silly your words were, given the situation and how you practically had him melted between your hands, by just one damn kiss and your closeness.

“No, baby— of course I want you.” His fingers soothingly caressed your face, so delicately over your soft skin as if you were a doll, made of porcelain. You twisted your head, still confused by his sudden rejection, prompting him to explain further. “Of course I want you, you're the prettiest thing my eyes have ever seen, for God's sake. But we shouldn't… I couldn't do this to you.”

“Joel,” his name came so deliciously out of your mouth that he closed his eyes to hear it echo inside his head, trying to hold himself back, “I've waited so fucking long for this moment and now that I have it, I won't waste it just because of your old man antics.”

“It's not about antics,” he explained after twisting his head, raising his eyebrows at your words and usual sassy behavior, brown eyes opening, threatening to bathe you in their glistening caramel color. “I'm trying to make things right here.”

“If you're worried about the age difference, you're wrong, Joel.” Your fingers sank into his hair as you spoke to him in a soft tone, noting how his gaze had fallen back to your lips for a few moments. “There is no right and wrong in this world anymore, so... why should we held back?”

“You want this too?” He had the nerve to ask, voice low and raspy, tilting his head slightly so he could look at you. “You want me?”

If there was one thing Joel disliked and well, hated, it was intimacy, sharing his vulnerable side, letting his weaknesses show. He'd barely been lucky to do that with Tess, because they'd known each other for years. But with you… everything was different. He couldn't just fuck you and never talk to you again, he couldn't do that, because you simply weren't that to him. You were so much more than that.

“I'd let you fuck me all goddamn night, Joel Miller.” You answered him instantly and a hint of a smile rose at the corner of his lips at your words and the assurance you put into them. “So yeah, I've never in my damn life wanted anything so badly as I want you.”

“All night, huh?” He questioned in an amused tone, eyes analyzing every detail of your face, both hands were now on your face, fingers tracing nonexistent lines and patterns on your skin. “I don't know if my body can take that much back pain. My young days are far behind me now.”

“Then just lie back and let me ride you.”

Those were the words he just needed to hear before fucking avalanching against you, joining his lips with yours in a now, more passionate and exciting kiss. His hands cradled your jaw, keeping you close to him, right where he wanted to have you.

Your hands moved down from his neck to the edges of your shirt and Joel helped you pull it off your body, lustful eyes, eager to see your body without fabrics getting in the way.

“What about Bill and Frank? Tomorrow I want to leave this house without a bullet fired between my eyes.”

You smiled teasingly against his lips. “Relax, they already know. Smart-asses, remember?”

He was aware of the relationship you had with Bill and Frank, especially the former, for he had been the one who had found you in the first place, merciful enough to let you live and let you into his home. And well, who could say no to those big eyes and innocent, pretty face? Even Bill hadn't been able to fight against it.

“Right.” He answered breathlessly, not really having the slightest idea of what you had just said, as he was so intently concentrated on contemplating the magnificence of your body, completely enthralled, blurred mind and all. Suddenly, the sweatpants were too tight in his crotch area.

He was just taking the time he deserved to observe you in front of him, leaning up to leave kisses on your jaw, down your neck, past your shoulders. His hands moved up your waist, stopping under your breasts, his gaze moving up from them to you again, eyes as sweet as honey, but so dilated, darkened by lust and desire, eager for more of you.

In an instant you deduced what he was trying to say from his gaze and before he could even formulate any words, you stroked his cheek, thumb tracing his lower lip affectionately. “Just touch me Joel, please. I'm all yours.”

“Goddamn it.”

― — ―

Morning had arrived and the sun was shining high in the sky as if one of the most chaotic storms of the last few months had not passed just the night before.

“Good morning.” You greeted Bill, Frank and Tess sitting at the table, your hand clutching your coffee cup.

Joel was already seated as well and under Bill's frowning gaze, he gave you a short look, barely smiling in your direction as he took a sip of his own coffee, black and bitter of course.

“Mornin'.” You were greeted back by him, perching the cup on the side of his toast and giving you an affectionate look. You smiled back at him.

Tess looked at her partner with a raised eyebrow, noting the shared complicity in your interaction, as did Bill and Frank, of course, who shared a single knowing glance, Frank smiling and Bill with his lips as pursed as his brow.

You cleared your throat, taking in your hand one of the cookies you had baked with Bill the day before, trying to ignore the awkward silence that had suddenly formed.

“So…” Frank began to speak, tone playful, but face with feigned concern, “it really was rowdy last night, a lot of noise out there.”

Your eyes widened at his words, second meaning all too obvious to everyone. Joel took a long sip of his coffee once more, lowering his eyes to the surface of the table after running into Bill's watchful, almost killing gaze.

“Really loud storm.” Tess agreed with him, nodding her head slowly and bringing her cup to her mouth. Of course she would never stop teasing Joel about this.

“I hate the storm.” Bill mumbled with a displeased face.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #the last of us hbo #tlou #tlou x reader #the last of us x reader #hbo the last of us #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller x you #joel my beloved #joel miller imagine #joel miller fic #joel miller tlou #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader

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odoraful · 2 months

Text

Domestic Bliss

characters: diluc, wanderer, childe content: sfw, modern au, established relationship, fluff !! a/n: i was scouring pinterest looking the most fitting inspo rooms for each of them hehe

Diluc

Your shared home is an old-fashioned but charming house with a tiled roof and a brick archway leading to the entrance of the door. Diluc has a good eye for style — all the furniture pieces you select together are warm and elegant, perfectly matching with the vintage style home.

He’s a bit of a craftsman, and when you moved in he custom built bookshelves just for you. Your house has traces of Diluc’s handiwork: a wooden tissue box cover, tile coasters, a ceramic chess set.

Being a peak acts of service man, if he notices that there’s something inconveniencing you that can be mended, he’ll try to find a way to fix it. That wooden chair that wobbled yesterday when you sat down on it? The next day, it’s miraculously levelled. Always struggling to find your keys before you leave the house? There are now little hooks on the wall where you can easily hang them. He doesn’t make a huge show of it, but you’ll always kiss him on the cheek and say that you should repay him with something.

“There’s no need. Seeing you happy is more than enough for me.” He replies, running a hand through his hair, the tips of his ears turning red.

The house is IMPECCABLY cleaned — the chores are shared out between the two of you, and the both of you work like a well-oiled machine. He’ll insist that you shouldn’t carry anything too heavy though! He doesn’t want you to hurt yourself :(

One of the things that Diluc wouldn’t ever trade is getting the chance to cuddle with you in the evening on the couch. He’ll let you play with his hair and try out different styles, comforted by the feeling of your fingers running through it.

Sometimes, he’ll come home late from work tired and perhaps a bit grumpy, but the sight of you will change his mood completely.

At the sound of jangling keys and the front door creaking shut, you rush out of the bathroom and down the stairs.

“(Y/N), I’m home!” You hear Diluc’s voice call out to you.

The day had felt far too long for him, and with far too many headaches for him to deal with. The only thing that he looked forward to at the end of it all was to see you again.

Hearing the patter of your slippers, he looks up. It takes everything within him to keep composed at your appearance. Having just gotten out of a hot shower, your cheeks were tinted pink, hair still damp and slicked. Diluc’s eyes trailed to your clothes, a matching pair of flannel shirt and shorts. He loosens his tie, suddenly finding his breath stuck in his throat. It baffled him how gorgeous you were even in pyjamas.

Wordlessly, he reaches towards you. You look down at his hands and see as they fasten the remaining top two buttons of your sleeping shirt. In your hurry to greet him at the door, you forgot to dress properly.

“I can’t believe I missed that...” You sheepishly say, observing his hands as they linger on your shirt. Your senses told you something was off. “Did you have troubles at work today?”

The worry in your eyes melts his heart. Of course you were the one to peer through him and know exactly how he was feeling.

“A few clientele at the bar today were-” He sighs, still fidgeting with the fabric of your shirt, recalling the events of the day, “-difficult to manage to say the least.” He lifts his head to meet his gaze. “You have no idea how glad I am to see you.”

Your arms instinctually wrap around him and he collapses into them. Tightening your embrace, he rests his head on your shoulder.

“Diluc, I just took a shower.” You say with a light giggle, trying to pull your hair away from his face.

He feels your breath close to his ear and he wishes he could have recorded that laugh for himself to hear it over and over again.

“I could tell.” He breathes deeply. “Is this a new shampoo?”

“Well yes, but what I meant from that is that my hair is still wet!”

You feel him smile against you. “It doesn’t bother me. Just a few more seconds, please. I need to recharge.”

Wanderer

You share an apartment together since you travel to and from the same university. Although you’re studying different degrees and have different schedules, you’ll both make an effort to spend time together at home during the weekdays.

You and Wanderer leave little notes cheering each other on and stick them to the walls or the fridge before you leave, or sneak them into pencil cases or onto laptop screens. He has a small box on his desk where he collects all your notes, neatly folding them up to preserve them.

Wanderer enjoys having the home quite minimalist. Just the essentials will do, but the two of you do splurge a bit more on your study space — the comfiest chairs, wide desks, tactile keyboards — anything to liven up having to do assignments all the time.

When you’re feeling too tired or distracted from your own studies, you’ll walk over to his desk and try to sit on his lap while he works. He’ll attempt to exert some self-control and reject your wishes, but eventually gives in after seeing your pout.

“Just because you’re distracted doesn’t give you any right to bother me.” He grumbles, resting his chin on your head.

He warns you that if you do decide to put plants in the house, you are responsible for them. Little do you know that he’s secretly also invested in their health. On mornings when you’re in a rush and forget to water them, he’ll spritz them with your spray bottle thinking to himself: If you died (Y/N) would be devastated, so don’t even think about it.

His favourite room is the bedroom. It’s a place for both of you to escape the stresses of being a student and relax together.

The alarm clock beeps and you wiggle in bed, reaching over a hand to quickly silence it. Bright sun filters in through the curtains, its light diffusing into the room.

You force your eyes open and sit up, your body bent over like a crooked branch. Movement beside you pulls your attention as Wanderer shifts in his sleep. You can’t deny how pretty he looks even at rest. His long lashes fanned out under closed eyes, the steady rise and fall of his chest with each deep breath. His expression is that of pure peace. You know that’ll soon disappear when you both need to properly wake up and prepare for classes.

“Hey, it’s time to wake up,” you whisper, carefully coaxing him from slumber.

Wanderer opens his bleary eyes ever so slightly, then immediately closes them. He mumbles something of refusal. You roll your eyes in resignation. When it comes to sleep, he acts like a child sometimes. You turn to get out of bed.

Two arms wrap around your waist and yank you back. You stumble into the sheets with a yelp. Wanderer adjusts the blanket over you and pulls you closer to him with one hand.

“Not yet.” His voice is low and scratchy, his words slurred. “Want more time in bed… with you.”

You sigh softly, absentmindedly running a hand through his hair to detangle it. “You do this almost every morning. You’re never going to attend your lectures on time.”

He replies by nuzzling into your neck, and you hear nothing but his slow breaths. His peers would have sooner called identity fraud than believe the stony and scholarly Wanderer to be this clingy and affectionate in the morning. However, in the privacy of just you, it’s become easy for him to let down his guard.

“Don’t try to get out of this by pretending to be asleep.” You say, deadpan.

There’s a stutter in his breathing as you catch his obvious charade.

“Stop worrying. I’ll just watch the recording.” He finally responds.

You realise in a fluster just how close your faces are, barely inches apart. As if sensing this, Wanderer opens his eyes once again, this time there’s a glint of mischief in them.

He taps his forehead lightly against your own. “And besides, why would I want to spend my mornings in a noisy lecture hall when I can be with you in peace and quiet?”

Childe

You’ve been living together for a while now, and your home has transformed into what can only be described as organised chaos.

If Childe kept up with his interior designing eagerness, it would have been complete maximalism, but you were there to contain his excitement and still ensure your home was still practical.

The two of you love collecting pillows, plushies and blankets, which adds even more to the cosiness! However, one day you tried to sit down on the couch and realised it was more pillows than actual seat space. In a fit of laughter, you and Childe ruled that you would rotate between different cushions every so often so you could get your couch back.

Childe will still come home with flowers or sweets (sometimes both) as gifts for you on random nights. He’ll stand on the doorstep looking like a lovesick teenage boy asking his crush out on a date. Taking them from his hands, you’ll ask what the occasion is.

“Well, there isn’t a particular occasion.” He kisses you on the forehead. “Celebrating you should be an everyday thing.”

Board game nights are taken very seriously. You have a bookshelf filled with different types of them. Whether it’s a classic game of UNO or Jenga, or something a little more strategic, he's always hyper-competitive. You also have special punishments for if one of you loses, which are harmless but maybe a little embarrassing (One of his favourite punishments for you is ‘For the entire day tomorrow, Childe will only call (Y/N) by the cheesiest pet names’).

MASSIVE kitchen since he loves to cook. He keeps a book of recipes from his mum and has since added new ones of his own that he has shared with you.

“Could you come over here, baby?”

You follow your partner’s voice and the scent of something freshly baked into the kitchen.

Childe is standing behind the counter, his face in deep focus. He takes one of an array of heart-shaped biscuits and dips half of it in a bowl of chocolate before placing it on a lined baking sheet. The sleeves of his dress shirt are rolled up, exposing his forearms. His muscular build is sharply juxtaposed by the cream-coloured apron tied around himself, which has a little teddy bear embroidered in its centre.

You approach the kitchen bench, eyes sparkling with excitement. “Are they ready yet? Can I try one?” You eagerly ask.

“Not quite, I need help dipping the rest of these into chocolate.” He stretches his arms out in front of him, shaking the tension out of them.

“That being said,” he grins, extending a hand towards you across the kitchen bench as an offer, “would you do me the honour of being my baking assistant for a little?”

Chuckling at his dramatics, you delicately place your hand in his like royalty. “I’d be delighted to help.”

Childe guides you to his side and helps you put on your apron. As he ties the strings together, he relays the instructions to you.

“You just need to dip half of the biscuit into chocolate, and then add some sprinkles on top before it sets.” He tightens the bow around your waist to secure it.

How hard could that be? You think, nodding along to his words.

Demoing an example, Childe deftly coats half of the biscuit. Angling it just right, the chocolate drips off and evens itself out, leaving a perfect covered half. After placing it on the tray and adding the finishing touch of sprinkles, he gestures for you to try it yourself.

You confidently take one biscuit and dunk it.

“Ah!”

Underestimating its consistency, when you lift the biscuit, the chocolate slowly spreads onto the other half of the heart and drips onto your fingers. You quickly place it onto the baking sheet. Childe stifles his laugh, covering his mouth with the back of his hand.

“My one looks so much worse compared to yours…” you mutter, licking your fingers to remove the evidence of your unsuccessful attempt.

Seeing the frown on your face, he gently bumps your shoulder with his own in encouragement. “Don’t say that! I think your one has a lot more charm.” He says, adding the sprinkles onto your heart. “I’ll run some extra baking classes with you to build up your skills, how does that sound?”

580 notes · View notes

saiidahyunie · 2 months

Text

don’t go insane

hirai momo x fembodyguard!reader || fluff ; smut

synopsis: you get assigned to protect your world famous girlfriend again—but an incident occurs one night that will change how you approach the bed from now on.

warnings: smut ; cursing ; more smut ; mentions of food ; alcohol ; spanking ; praise ; edging ; smut again ; overstimulation ; degrading ; slight belt play? ; bondage ; dacryphilia ; mmmmmm smut and smut hehe! ; bottom momo ; whipped reader for a quick second ; [redacted] appears (again) ; might/might not be proofread ; i think i cleared the checklist ??

a/n: for @gayforminatozaki, the direct sequel of standing next to you .

the cool morning air of paris meets you, standing on a balcony with a french pressed coffee to your lips.

how fitting.

you scout the few amounts of people down on the street below your apartment that were going about in their daily lives. you see a woman enter a bakery with another person cruising down on their moped wearing a cute baby blue helmet zipping past your vision.

another sip of your coffee passes through your lips, finishing the last bits of it before you were just now holding a simple empty cup that said “for the missus” with a lipstick mark under the text. you scoffed at the cup of choice, knowing that it had came as a set that was a welcoming gift for the person that you were assigned under.

sighing out in relaxation, you gaze over the skyline where the eiffel tower was making its presence known, with the arc de triomphe also standing tall behind in the distance on this bright morning under the warm sun.

you turn your head back inside, the sheets unmade from the amount of movement that was made in the bed last night—your side clearly left imprinted on the mattress and pillows, along with the pool of clothes that were scattered across the floor from last night’s event.

suit trousers laid flat, the dress shirt on the chair, your necktie on the headboard of the bed. it was the complete opposite to your current attire of grey sweatpants with a white crop top shirt. god it was definitely an evening for the books. another pair of clothes were off on the tile floor next to the bathroom, a path seen leading further into the room, it’s occupant still fast asleep on their side of the bed.

the person sleeping their heart’s content away in question? none other than your famous girlfriend, momo.

unlike your side of covers, hers exposed her bare back to you, hints of red marks and hickeys all over like a canvas painting that was curated by yours truly.

but how did we get to this exact moment currently? let’s rewind a bit back to explain how you and her ended up the morning after in a paris penthouse suite.

not long after you and momo hooked up following the chrome hearts incident back in new york city, momo finished up the remaining tour stops in the US with ease. the only new catch however was that you and her kept your relationship secret behind the scenes.

most of the nights would be filled with endless sex with soft pillow talks in the morning, show preparations filled with stolen kisses when no one else was looking, staying right by her side when escorting her through different areas—hand on her back or a finger linked with hers.

the two of you really enjoyed the time spent together on the free days, momo being the free spirt that she was going crazy with shopping and you carrying most of her new clothes that she couldn’t wait to try on for herself and you—only for it to be torn off her body minutes later when you couldn’t stop eyefucking each other.

in all of the moments shared, time was the greatest enemy in the end. her tour had finished and you would be sent back to another posting while momo would have her much needed time off.

it hurt to finally be separated after realizing the feelings you had for her, but you knew that she had the strings to pull you back to her for another event sometime later in the year, so the agreement of being in a long-distance relationship was the solution for now.

at the airport, you ensured to keep your bodyguard image once yoona had managed to get everyone situated in momo’s team. while she was doing that, momo pulled you away from the logistical atmosphere to a nearby photobooth. you laughed at her silly idea, but she insisted on making one last memory before leaving back home.

“this is so teenage corny, but i wouldn't mind having one last memento from you.” you say to momo, sitting down on the far end of the small booth, arm wrapped around her waist while she tapped away on the screen to get the photo machine working.

“something for us to keep, and a little reminder of you.” momo says sweetly, you press your lips to her jaw that makes her mewl cutely at the affectionate side that she managed to bring out of you.

you and momo do a wide variety of poses in the six frames that were set up for you two. the first three being funny and cute poses of pressing each other’s faces and hugging, and the last three being more intimate with kisses on cheeks with the last one being a proper lip lock to seal it.

yoona stands outside a luggage store with karina, looking for the two of you while she spots you two walking, sharing a quick laugh while momo was holding two cups of coffee—clearly one of them for yoona as you stood behind her, scanning the people walking past you while momo handed the cup.

“our flight’s leaving in about an hour, but we have first class so we can board a little bit early than expected.” yoona announces to the three of you. momo pouts her lips with those thick nerdy glasses that were just for show and not for prescription, your cheeks forming a dimple realizing that the time was now growing short.

“if anything yoona, we’re pretty much set over here. another team will escort you guys to the gate, but this is it for us.” karina says, your eyes turning towards her while she said that to momo’s manager.

“do you mind if you can bring us to the person that’s helping your team before you have to leave?” yoona asks, shouldering her expensive handbag in her arm that was slipping off.

“sure, y/n you want to come?”

“it’s fine, i have to get in touch with nayeon for a debrief.” you reply, holding a hand up with karina acknowledging your refusal. “you can go, i’ll meet you back at the terminal.”

karina nods, motioning yoona to follow her.

momo bent down to tie her shoelace real quick, but that was a fake cover since she stood up after you tapped her shoulder, wrapping you into a hug that makes you want to go with her back home. you could use the break anyway from your bodyguard post for a bit and you did say to nayeon that you’d be taking a temporary vacation once you and the rest of your team got back.

“momo…” you mutter, her hair over your mouth and nose as her grip tightened around you, not wanting to let go at all. “you have to go baby.”

“i know, it’s just- i’m gonna miss you…” she mumbles into your shoulder, fighting back tears before loosening her hug just a bit to meet your face.

“we’ll be together again, but you deserve the break.” you comfort her, patting her head as she hugs your waist once more, pressing her lips to yours for a quick kiss—one feeling that you’ll never get enough of the next time you’re assigned with her again.

“i guess i have to go now…” she says defeatedly, you grab her hand for a quick second before she stars walking away, fishing for your slip of pictures from the photobooth and a sharpie that you always had on the ready, scribbling on the back of it with something.

“give me your photo slip and take this.” you instruct momo as she hands you her copy of the pictures, trading for the one that you just wrote on.

“what’s this?”

“my personal phone number,” you answer, “i keep two phones; one for work and the other for outside of my job.”

momo chuckles a bit, happy with the gesture you just did to ensure that you and her would keep in touch.

“now get going silly, you’ll miss your flight.” you say to momo, tapping her shoulder as she gives you a couple more quick kisses, each contact much sweeter than the last before she pulls away.

“i hope you know that i love you right?”

“you don’t have to tell me twice.”

she smiles at you, lunging for one last kiss before starts running backwards to the gate, waving at you like a lost child at the mall. the black beanie the back of her head finally disappearing in the crowd after a few seconds.

everything felt way too good to be true, only for you to be brought back down to the earth. the miles and miles of land and oceans tearing you and momo apart for what seemed to be like forever—but in reality it was just for the summer.

momo’s tour had concluded in may, and she had the whole summer to herself back doing various things with her close friends and family; traveling around the world and seeing the new sights of countries that she dreamed of going back to when she was a kid.

as for you, nayeon let you off the hook with that long overdue vacation that you proposed back at the chrome hearts store. sure, she didn’t want you to be on temporary leave since you were basically the best in the business at doing your job correctly. speaking of correctly, that dumbass heechul was finally kicked off to the curb and shipped to a different celebrity service that was more well known for dealing with delinquents—perfect for his line of work really.

during the summer, you decided to use your well paid time off doing a bunch of works that you put on hold when you first got the bodyguard job. this was not limited to drifting in custom-made cars, a getaway trip with your close friend sakura to jeju island, and even doing a simple modeling gig; courtesy of momo for helping you get set up.

you and momo kept in touch through texts and facetime calls whenever it was possible despite the difference in place and time, but if was worth fucking up your sleep schedule for her, then you could never complain about the increase of caffeine in your system.

“so when are you supposed to go back to work?”

you hum while reaching in the cupboard for a mug to use for your homemade root beer float, “i don’t know, nayeon told me that i could come back whenever i feel like since i’ve done a lot more than i initially expected.” you say, turning back to see momo on your screen laying on the bed, the heels of her feet up in the air.

“they really worked you down, didn’t they?” momo sighs out that makes you chuckle at the thought of it. she knew that you were stressed to a certain degree during her US tour, and luckily she was the one to relieve all of that almost entirely.

“yeah,” you say, “but on the brightside, i finally got back to some of my hobbies outside of work.”

“hmm, like what?”

“oh you know, sleeping in a whole lot more compared to waking up at 5 in the morning. or better yet, being able to go out for some drinks and not having to worry about a hangover the morning after.” you list, pointing a finger up in the air like some idea with a dumb smile struck over your face.

“you’re so cute.” momo laughs out, “i can’t believe you have this side of you i didn’t expect to see.”

“oh shut up, you’re one of the few people i can’t get mad at now.”

“good.”

the both of you share a laugh together over the phone, sipping the last couple chunks of ice cream mixed with your root beer, stirring it with a spoon while momo shifts herself into the bed more, almost getting ready to fall asleep.

“i miss you.” you say to momo, tilting your head to match hers that was on her side now, tapping her cheek on the phone screen. “it sucks that we have to keep this dating thing a whole secret for the sake of our companies.”

“at least it's not a dating ban, but i miss you too.” momo replies, eyes drooping with the wave of sleepiness slowly taking over.

“i’ll let you go sleep now.” you softly say while momo moans slightly through her covers. “dream of me when you can, yeah?”

“always.” momo murmurs out, waving small with her three fingers over the cover as you wave at your phone screen, kissing to the air while momo ends the call after more than four hours. (with all this free time that you and momo were granted, it was justified)

“she’s so cute.” you say to yourself, standing up from the table before cleaning up a bit around your kitchen before packing it up for the night.

once the summer had passed, things got back into full swing. momo was in and around the studio working on her next project while you ease yourself back into the bodyguard position by training the newbies that had come up through the ranks.

you had a smug smile on your face with the new people being introduced to your unit; chaeyoung worked under a previous agency but switched over since the pay was better. wonwoo was also a returner that was supposed to be with your team on momo’s previous assignment, but you got heechul instead which was a bummer because of logistical reasons. and there was tzuyu, who didn’t seem like the more intimidating type—once you saw her skills with firearms and martial arts, that ended the questions faster than they could be formed.

during one team briefing, nayeon pulled you out of it for a quick word. granted, you hated those meetings anyway so nayeon was doing you a favor by bailing you out so that you didn't have to talk about all of the financials that this bodyguard job demanded for better equipment and all of that special jazz.

“this better be good.” you say to nayeon, leaning your hand against the wall with the other on your hip as nayeon parts a wisp of hair from her face before seeing a grin with a hint of her fixed bunny teeth.

“we got a posting for you. pick five others to tag along in your team and we’ll get all of the details sorted out.”

“you know i’m taking karina, mingyu, and wonwoo this time. but let's add tzuyu and keji too.”

“that’s why i like working with you y/n.” nayeon says, tapping your shoulder, letting out a scoff at the compliment you received just now.

“is there a catch?”

“sadly, this is a double-op assignment. we’ll be working with jihyo’s agency.”

“that’s not bad, she does her job pretty well like you actually.”

you and nayeon glance over to see joshua blitz past by, running papers in enclosed cardboard pipes on a cart before returning back to the conversation.

“so jihyo’s team is in on this also?” you ask, rubbing your hand alongside your face. “explains the lag in details being exchanged.”

“it’s fine,” nayeon replies, waving her hand up to not make you worry. “jihyo and i are good friends, so i expect nothing less from you or her team.”

“where’s the assignment?”

“france, for paris fashion week.”

“oui, oui.” you hint at nayeon with a wink. “that means i can dress a little more fancier now.”

“should’ve done modeling instead then.”

“don’t tempt me now…”

an exchanged laugh was shared before nayeon brought you back to that stupid meeting that was already ending, but you were excited to travel again—this time, to one of the most stylish cities in the world.

while that was happening, momo was back in her luxurious apartment sharing a brunch meal with sana, her close friend of 10 years, catching up with whatever life nonsense had happened while momo was out of the country.

“so that’s how it happened?” sana asks, tossing a grape into her mouth while momo was texting yoona about some logistical details regarding the expected fashion week appearance.

“pretty much, but i had a crush on her since the first time i went on tour, but there was something about her the next time i saw her that made me want to jump at the opportunity.”

“and you guys have been dating for?”

“roughly about fiveish–six months since may? so it hasn’t been that long.” momo answers, putting her phone down on the coffee table that showed her homescreen of you and her on a day off in los angeles, the blurry image of you and her hugging that was probably taken by yoona.

she also shows a professional picture of you working to sana—an image of you at the front while momo was behind wearing sunglasses along with a hoodie to keep her appearance hidden to the public.

“she’s pretty hot, i’ll give you that.” sana chides, zooming in at your broad stature, the blazer on your body well rested in every noticeable aspect in the shoulders and waist, the earpiece clearly seen in your left ear and your prada glasses.

“the best is what they say about in terms of her job, now i’m trying to have y/n assigned with me every chance i can.”

“you are so gay, and horny.”

“you’re into that too sha, don’t even talk.”

“the new miu miu ambassador everyone will be talking about in a week or so. can’t wait to see the pictures from that.” sana says, downing a glass of orange juice while momo hits her with a pillow from the couch.

planning phases are always a pain, but luckily you’re not part of the management end of things with your agency since nayeon’s team did most of the heavy duty business like clockwork and once everything was all set in stone—the green light for paris fashion week was under way.

momo was walking around her spacious walk in closet, trying to get some of luggage filled up with different clothes and combinations to wear before and after the necessary promotions with miu miu, grabbing a couple of miu miu clothes that she already owned prior as well as tossing a pair of flared leggings over her head. the sound of a trap beat is being heard from the tv in the living room serving as background noise only for her phone to ring off a notification that makes her stop what she’s doing.

at the same time, you were in the middle of your workout at your apartment’s gym, finishing up a set of pullups before you heard the vibration of your phone on the bench over the heavy rap song blasting over you. dropping from the bar, you walk to the bench where your gym bag and phone were at, fishing for the towel to wipe the sweat off of you, staring at the mirror of your body build. you kept yourself in shape, the tattoo on your left arm in all of its glory as well as the toned muscles from the shoulders, arms, and abs.

you look down at your phone to see the text from nayeon in the groupchat with the other members in your team for this assignment, the link attached from her message that consisted of the fashion week schedule, travel itinerary, and a few other things that you would look at later once you got back to your place.

so you grab your secondary phone for personal uses, showing a picture on the lockscreen of momo in her element during her concert that you snuck backstage with the home wallpaper being the slip of paper from the photobooth at the airport before texting sakura who was asking for your opinion on the beanies that she’s crocheting.

back at momo’s apartment, she plops back down on her moonpit couch, wiggling her feet along with the song in the background with two weeks worth of luggage ready at the kitchen island before getting another text notification, but this time it was from yoona.

you’re getting a post workout shake ready in the kitchen, drying your hair with a towel in your all black outfit of a simple oversized shirt and sweats, feet tapping along the hardwood floor while you subconsciously made a lap around the kitchen island waiting for the blender to stop mixing when your work phone gets another text that has you looking again.

momo reads yoona’s message, confirming the flight ticket to paris while your text gets the final confirmation of your next posting. the both of you smile at your phone screens that can only mean one thing while the both of you switched over to the message app in less than a millisecond.

you and momo are finally seeing each other again in another corner of the world.

the welcoming party at the paris airport wasn’t out of the ordinary.

if anything, it was actually a chill approach once you heard that momo’s team had landed from their thirteen hour flight. you, mingyu and keji were waiting for karina and tzuyu to loop back along with momo’s group.

“this should be a fun week.” mingyu says, rubbing his hands together that was clothed in woolen gloves.

“i feel like you’re not as enthusiastic unlike last time.” you reply, fixing your ear piece and turtleneck that had a sleek silver chain hanging around your neck.

“well, it’s been a while since we had you at the helm so—”

“y/n, why do you have jewelry on your attire?” keji asks while pointing at the chain that made mingyu stifle a laugh at the surprise question.

“keji, she’s the leader. she has some leniency with what she wants to do with herself.” mingyu answers the question for you, smiling from keji’s dumbfounded reaction.

“alright you two, that’s enough. we got eyes on twelve.” you say when you saw the small band of people approach you at the terminal door. the flashing lights and people clamoring left you unfazed as the secondary team of guards parted them away from the main centerpiece.

the paparazzi crowd presented momo to you that was straight out of a movie scene; she was layered in a thick leather hoodie with both hands in her pocket. even with sunglasses on to protect her from the bombardment of flashes coming from the cameras, you felt her eyes locked on to yours, that smug smile she always beared almost kicking you in the gut. just even in close proximity, there was a power that she held that made your world stop for just a second.

you catch yourself smiling, and this girl is gonna fucking drive you crazy.

flashing a look to mingyu and keji, the both got into a standard formation to slot themselves into the pack, keeping most of the fans and camera people at bay once momo got to the door on the way out. you look at your watch to ensure that everything was right on schedule and right at nine thirty on the dot, the momo frenzy has finally touched down in paris.

“everything’s holding up from back here.” karina says through your ear piece, waving her hand in the back row where you could barely see her.

“alright, prep the team for phase two.” you reply back, showing a hand signal that prompted karina to relay the message to the other workers that helped out guarding momo to disperse the crowd surrounding them, clearing a pathway the the entryway of the bulky black suv and opening the door for yoona and momo.

the two girls flash a look at you, even with a straight face you couldn't help but wink at the two of them—the notion of you being assigned to them again was a much needed reassurance before getting into the car. you’re already thinking of how to sneak away with the talk of the town in the city of love, but that will come for later.

it’s all the usual at this point, closing the car door before your assigned driver asks you about the hotel location in french, in which you reply back flawlessly with the matching language. momo takes of her hood and sunglasses while you were in the conversation, listening to how the french words rolled off your tongue like butter—biting her lip a bit at how damn good you were at your job.

“nice to see you two again.” you say looking back at momo and yoona sitting in the backseat smiling to see your face. “been a minute hasn’t it?”

“i was worried that you weren’t gonna be back in time for this, but thank you for being here.” yoona says to you, placing her bag in the middle seat between her and momo.

“please, this is what i do for a living.”

“and it’s also my job to keep your little secret relationship here under wraps.”

“yoona, you’re already doing so much as it is and we’re thankful for that.” you say to the manager, tilting your head off to the side while the car was rolling along the streets of paris.

“so what’s the plan y/n?” momo asks you, taking your ear piece out to reduce the back and forth chatter between karina and wonwoo on the radio channel. you hum while looking through the main windshield as the suv weaved at every turn and straight on the way to your next destination.

“the plan is to have you guys and my people checked in. after that, we’ll give you guys some downtime before going out to have dinner. since the fashion show isn’t for another day, you basically have a free day before the actual event, so whatever it is that you want to do is up to you or yoona for that matter.”

momo hugs her legs on the backseat, getting more comfy leaning next to the door. “there’s this restaurant somewhere around here, and they have some mean oysters that they serve. you think we can go there yoona?”

“sure, let's just get you situated in the hotel first before i put in a reservation.”

when your small convoy of cars arrives at the breezeway outside leading into the hotel lobby, you can immediately tell that the inside was subjected to a certain theme. none of the hotel guests seemed to bat an eye that a world famous celebrity was staying here given the increase of bodies in security when yoona was getting momo checked in at the main desk.

a 1950’s victorian theme was spread about in various areas of the lobby. the paintings on the wall, the couches and chairs for the guests to sit on have a more regal theme to them rather than saying old fashioned. you had a knack for a sense of nostalgia for an era of time that you weren’t even a part of let alone born in, but it was things like these that really kept you captivated—much so like getting lost in an art museum and momo knows this about you very well.

momo was already called over by yoona at the front desk to verify the hotel stay, then was shooed off jokingly while karina was with the manager to get your team situated too. planning and logistics, you thanked nayeon in your head for hiring karina in the first place who could handle all of the paperwork stuff. mingyu and wonwoo worked well together, so you kept it that way and sent them outside to keep on the lookout for jihyo’s team that she sent over while tzuyu and keji were with some of momo’s management and indulging in a lovey conversation.

and there you were, next to momo again, not showing any hint of your relationship with her whatsoever since you and her agreed to keep it a secret until after ‘work hours’ but that wasn’t limited to exchanging quick glances and looks so filled with love. the both of you were in your own element constantly to the point that even the simple acts of doing in and out of your job was more than enough for momo to be crazy about you too.

she sees you off in the distance, hanging near the elevators with another extra guard member that was with your team talking about details of guidelines and all that before the guard member stepped away from you to tend to something else. momo then points her phone towards your direction, zooming it in precisely that it gets you and the fancy vase full of white lilacs taking a picture that captured your back that was exceptionally shown from the blazer.

momo then edits this in her photos for what seemed to be a few seconds before she felt an alluring presence over her. “that pic isn’t me i’m assuming?”

“it is, you’re too fucking fine in that suit for me.”

"all for you baby, remember that." you reply, with momo looking up at you matching the same smirk on your face.

you knelt down to meet her gaze, the wolf cut in all of its glory along with her small hint beauty marks on both of her cheeks. those plump, kissable lips are making it dangerously hard for you to not steal a peck with everyone possibly watching.

"you look wayyyyy too good in casual clothes..." you say to momo, leaning into her face from your lowered position. "maybe we should just get away from everyone here, just the two of—"

“y/n, come up?”

pulling back with a defeated sigh as momo nicks a lock of hair behind her earlobe, you press on your earpiece to answer the comm.

“go ahead karina.”

“momo is officially checked in, but jihyo’s team just arrived outside the hotel right now.”

you look over to the front desk, yoona holds up a set of keycards before looking back to momo nodding that everything was all set up for her. the two of you meet with karina and yoona before the elevators, handing her the projected itinerary that was drafted up by nayeon.

“go on up to the rooms. jihyo’s team is taking over for your guys' dinner tonight.”

“what about you?”

“i’ll have to meet with whoever jihyo sent for this double assignment, but you guys have my number to keep in touch if something comes up.”

yoona nods her head, reminded by how much star power momo held with just her pure existence. giving momo a look before cocking her head to the elevators.

“we’ll see you guys soon, but enjoy your dinner.” you say while you and karina give the pair a small wave before walking away to the front doors of the hotel lobby to meet with jihyo’s bodyguard team.

knock knock

in your dark room that was only lit by the faint light of the lamp on your hotel desk, you couldn’t help but wonder who was at the door or why they would be knocking at this hour.

walking up to the frame and looking through the peephole, you see that no one was actually there—now you would just dismiss this and just plop black on the bed, but there was a premonition that someone was there that you just didn’t know.

so you open the door, unlinking the chain lock before opening it wider to see the welcoming body; only to be lunged at by the supposed intruder, arms linking around your neck while yours fall to a slim waist, their lips meeting with yours.

suddenly your back meets the wall of your hotel room, the taste and scent of peaches filling your senses on your nose and lips. the perpetrator pulls away from you for a quick breath before letting out a muffled moan into your mouth again, making your brain hazy from the feeling of their lips and your hands roaming all over their back.

“wha–” another groan passes through the small space between your faces. “what are you doing here?” you ask the person pinning you against the wall, smiling against their lips. a slip of your tongue was enough to incite a small moan, in addition to gripping their ass through the baggy jeans they were wearing.

they pull away, leaving your eyes half-lidded—their hands slowly receding away from your face while you add a bit of a tighter grip around their waist, rubbing the small divot in their lower back.

“i wanted to see you.” momo says sweetly, lowering her hood to reveal her bare face much closer to you, a soft smile across her lips that makes you dip your head down trying to resist the absolute cuteness that was displayed in front of you.

you’re grinning, hard, and you’re trying not to show momo how badly you’re folding as momo pulls you in for a hug–the kind of hug that’s suffocating you from the pressure, the one where you embrace your lover when you meet at the airport after being away for so long. you shouldn’t be this whipped for her, but you are, and that’s the reality.

“do you realize that you’ll get in trouble if they see us together?” you ask momo, the door finally closing from the hallway to shroud the both of you in darkness again before flipping the light switch to the hallway in your hotel room. “besides, it’s past your curfew and we have a busy day tomorrow already.”

“it’s okay,” momo assures. “i think you can be a little bit lenient with me can’t you?” wrapping herself around you again, catching another whiff of the calming scent of honey in her hair.

you sigh, melting at her touch. even if she was a little bit shorter than you, she knew how to make you vulnerable with so much sincerity and care—the best kind of protection in momo’s case really, “you’re really stretching your luck here momo, but i won’t be the one at fault if you don’t wake up in time later.”

“stretching huh? you can help me with that.”

“god, you’re something else.” you chuckle out. (you’re seeing what she’s implying here, but you’re not letting her get to you that easily.)

“so let’s go then. i wanna show you around for a bit.”

“and where exactly do you even plan on going at this hour? it’s almost midnight.”

“maybe if you get dressed, we can get going before the others realize that we’re not actually here.” momo assures, prompting you to change your attire into something more comfortable and inconspicuous. she sees your nike sports bra that’s covered by a shirt layered with an oversized hoodie, your legs that was occupied with sweatpants now in different color to help match the look along with your casual shoes that you used for morning runs.

finally you’re ready, and momo giggles at the sight of you fixing your shoes before you flash a very unamused look, closing the gap between your faces again before opening the door out to the hotel hallway.

“i’im giving us forty-five minutes, so this date better be worth it.”

it’s wasn’t really a bad scenario to be getting lost in the streets of paris at midnight.

the city is so much prettier at night. you’ve seen the pictures from various twitter accounts and pinterest posts, but to experience it live and in person was a completely different experience. you got lost in the various structures of architecture, the cobblestone pathways that were used as the main roadways, and even the vintage aspect of the closed stores and cafe shops.

a pretty night indeed, in addition to walking along with your extremely pretty girlfriend as well.

your hotel was a block away from the eiffel tower, and people were still out and about getting pictures and videos of the old landmark flash scattered lights that illuminate about every fifteen or so minutes. you and momo walk hand in hand along the parkside, talking about the many things that you two did over the summer while being apart, filling in on what the other has been up to besides texting and calling on a regular basis.

she’s taking pictures of you with the tower to share with your parents back home, you’re taking pictures of her—it’s all so candid and a much needed last minute date that was spontaneous. you didn’t want to consider it to be stress relief, but momo was a breath of fresh air in your life that was clouded with the constant loop of work, work, work, and work.

there’s a nearby night market in a plaza on the way back that caught the attention of momo. specifically, the vintage clothes that were hanging alongside the canopy on display and momo trying to negotiate which pieces to buy for her own closet while your held her handbag still in a guarding position, but with a much more relaxed stature. she’s laughing with the vendor, and you’re nothing but heart eyes for her.

forty-five minutes went by in a flash, and you’re back in the hotel hallway of momo’s room. your hand is laced with hers while the other was holding a paper bag filled with clothes that she bought from that market.

you’re at the door of her room, keycard pressed against the lock and she walks in, handing her the bag along with a few other items that you held onto for her which were just additional essentials. checking the time on your watch, it was almost one in the morning and the calltime to get everyone set up and ready was between 7 to 8, so it wasn’t too bad but you’re in no place to complain.

“thank you,” you breathe out, standing in the middle of the doorway like a girl scout selling cookies, staring at momo’s bare face again, her eyes open wide like boba balls with that same soft smile again. “i needed this, so much.”

momo doesn’t say anything, she just steps into your bubble again, arms enveloping you. every worry that you carried through your bones suddenly vanished at the presence of momo’s heartbeat next to your chest. her hands find themselves on both sides of your face, lips coming in contact with yours again, savoring any last bit you could before letting her off for the night.

“you are…” the words are muttering out of your mouth, momo’s lips brushing against yours as she hums, the feeling of her giddiness spreading to you. she pecks you again to shut you up.

“sometimes you talk too much y/n.” momo says, pushing you away and out of her door before getting ready to close the door. “get some rest babe, you’re gonna need it.”

before she could close the door on you, you lean for another kiss, “see you in the morning.” you say to momo, giving a quick one again before you’re waving her down the hallway. you didn’t have to say anything or need to, the actions you had spoke more louder than your words ever could and momo understood this, doing a little heel tap before entering the elevator down to your hotel room’s level.

the main event of paris fashion week, and this was just the opening.

“shin ryujin.” you say, clasping the younger woman’s hand with an iron grip, “last i heard, you were a liaison for jihyo and now look at you; primary team leader for her agency.”

“dreamt big, and got the promotion.” she beams, flashing glances to wonwoo and karina who were behind you in front of the hotel lobby waiting for the suv’s to arrive for today’s activities.

“i believe you know the plan for today y/n?”

“pretty much straightforward, you’ll be with us and we’ll meet with your people at the venue already.”

ryujin nods at the memorization, “are you sure that’s all?”

you nick your head off to the side with a laugh, “how could i forget about the after party activities?”

right on cue, yoona calls you from the spinning door, the rest of momo’s entourage walking out with momo already prepared in her look for tonight. it was a simple blue denim croptop and jeans that hugged all of the curves on her body in all of the right places. her back was exposed for everyone to see and her makeup didn’t look to be too extensive–much like a simple touch up and her wolf cut looked dashing when it was all properly styled, her bangs were a signature part of her look and my god she looked good.

okay, stay on task here, you shouldn’t be leering on the job anyway.

so you turn around to give the three people behind you a quick word, “you know the teams, you know the assignments, keep the radio channels open in case anything pops up. are we clear?”

“crystal.” ryujin and karina both say in unison, while wonwoo simply nods at you.

“good, let’s have a good day, people.” you say before dispersing into your respective cars heading off towards the venue for the fashion show.

when the group arrives at the venue, you immediately hear the murmurs from the crowds standing in the barricades increase to more screams once you open the door for momo to walk out. the entire place went bonkers as momo made her way past the red carpet, stopping for a photo op that showed her outfit again and the waves of flashes were just everything thrown at her all at once.

you stand off to the side, watching momo indulge in the limelight before she walks over to your direction after being prompted by mingyu to proceed walking indoors. momo flashes a smile at you while you raised your arm to the side to guide her past the door when ryujin comes up in your earpiece.

“y/n?”

“go ahead ryujin.”

“i got a text from karina, she said that their suv broke down on the way here.”

that can’t be good.

“how bad in terms of time are we talking?” you ask ryujin through your wrist, trying to mask the sound so that there’s no interference, walking indoors to better the quality of your talking.

“shouldn’t be that long, but we’re hoping that they can be here by the time the event is halfway over.”

“you’re saying that we’ll be short-handed by the time the after party rolls around?”

“sorry, you know this is out of our control.”

“i know,” you say with a hand raised up, trying to calm yourself down. “stick to the plan, i’ll get in touch with karina and them when i can.”

ryujin acknowledges before the earpiece goes silent again with exchanges from other guards from both of your teams. you weren’t the kind of person to be stressed with things like these, but you had an uneasy feeling that if things didn’t go to plan, it struck a bad nerve in your head.

strike one: have key members in your team deserted leaving you short-handed.

the fashion show however was well organized and thought out. the seating arrangements looked to be in a more open setting with no chairs, but stone seats with the runway already set up. you meet up with keji and tzuyu who were on the other side covering one of the exits, in clear line of sight where momo was sitting. she had her leg crossed over the other that was lady-like, and you observed her as she watched the models showcase the new fall/winter looks that were set to be released in due time.

“say, didn’t you do modeling y/n?” you hear keji ask you on your right side, earning a chuckle from you that helped ease your mind just a bit. “i could’ve sworn you should be walking on that runway too right now if you wanted to.”

“are you saying that i can serve like those girls in those oversized suits and dresses?” you ask keji as tzuyu giggles on the opposite end, causing you to roll your eyes at the two rookies that you brought onto this assignment. “maybe i can, but to answer your question, i did do a photoshoot while on vacation.”

“no way really?”

“i’ll save showing the pictures when all of this is over.”

once the showcase was all done and over with, momo was advised to attend the miu miu provided after party that included a dinner and various interactions with other celebrities. again, it wasn’t too crazy but the fact that tonight wasn’t swinging your way in terms of logistical planning, you had to be flexible.

the dining hall looked way more sophisticated that could be on par with the setup of the fashion showcase. it was more of a lively food spot with a bar attached rather than a usual restaurant, with a lot of seating arrangements spread out across. you find momo sitting in the middle of some fancy table alongside what you assumed was another brand ambassador that miu miu had invited out with wongyoung. their conversation seemed to be lively as the pair shared a smile together over the loud crowd of people around you.

you find yourself keeping a close eye on her from time to time throughout the dinner. momo looked fully immersed back at the showcase and the dinner, her eyes wide like saucers. she sneaks a few quick glances at you and you’re doing the same, through the camera flashes and your head moving like a swivel to ensure everything is in shape.

after everyone continued to enjoy themselves with the complimentary dinner provided by the fashion company and organizers, you get pulled off to the side by keji who played messenger via ryujin outside where the management and various workers were outside in a small pavilion.

“fill me in with what you got.” you say to ryujin, turning away from the two people that she was talking with—automatically assuming that they were her people that she brought over on this double-op assignment.

“you want the good news or bad news?”

“is there any difference between the two?”

ryujin giggles at the banter you’re effortlessly producing. “so bad news is, karina, mingyu, and wonwoo won’t be able to make it tonight.”

well, shit.

“the good news is! i have these two with me to help fill you in with the workload.”

you wished she hadn’t said that. because those two people that ryujin was talking with appeared right behind her—and you’re just forced to deal with it.

chanyeol, on her left may look like a saint, but you could tell that he was bad news. as for the person on her right side, was someone that you had a vendetta against. you definitely wished that karina and mingyu were in their place in addition to tzuyu and keji.

“heechul,” you say, “i didn’t expect you–”

“it’s good to see you too y/n,” the sickening man in front of you replies, “i admit that i screwed up, and i’m here to give a sense of consolation with this new role. i promise, my act is clean now, and it’s a new start for me. let me prove that to you and ryujin, please.”

your blood is straight boiling at the fact that you’re in the presence of this guy, but you have to focus on the task at hand and see the whole week assignment through, but you’re definitely gonna give nayeon a hearing once you get back from paris.

“now that you guys are acquainted, we’re getting wheels up in about fifteen minutes. y/n and heechul, i’m gonna have you guys grab momo and her team while chanyeol and i get the cars outside.” ryujin instructs you, pointing to the exit with her finger.

flashing a look at heechul, you cringe at the sight of his smile before rolling your eyes. “you can count on us ryujin.” heechul says before nodding himself off to get in the vibrant crowd. ryujin notices your expression and body language, sensing that something was off with you.

“is something the matter?”

“yeah, why the hell is he here with you on this assignment?”

“y/n, hechul was desprate for a second chance, and jihyo gave it to him.”

“but–”

“i’m aware of his past actions, but give him a chance.”

you sigh out, arguing wasn’t gonna make this assignment any better. “fine,” you say, “just this once.”

ryujin taps your shoulder before her and chanyeol both walk away from you. this day couldn’t get any worse as it is.

strike two: find out that one of your past workers is on the same assignment with you and gets you in a more pissy mood.

from the more expensive, regal fashion showcase and food spot, the location changes to a nightclub setting that was completely cleared out for momo’s entourage. the place named ‘crazy horse paris’ was also a nightly hotspot for club goers on a weekend basis—but this came as a surprise since one of momo’s songs just went platinum in the charts, so it was only right for another small celebration to be held.

in the midst of all the strobe lights flashing in the club with the firework candles in a cut out record of momo’s song, it was nice to let loose a little bit. the exchange of the provided dinner that was filling was no substituted with small snacks and alcohol. not bad for a successful fashion week outing right?

everyone makes the rounds of the plethora of drinks; beer, wince, hennessey, whiskey, there were a lot of people relaxing on this lovely thursday night. the loud music bumping your eardrums as you’re observing momo’s management taking shots, and even tzuyu and keji who were having a little bit of fun so you’re also keeping an eye on them.

your arm gets bumped at the bar while watching everyone lose themselves in the music from the dj, and you turn to see that ryujin is offering you a drink.

“you a heavy?” she asks, taking her offer of the glass of whiskey before raising her glass up for a quick cheers.

“i’ve had a couple already,” you reply, downing the burning alcoholic drink in one swig, placing the cup down on the bar before sliding it across for the bartender who nods at you for keeping him occupied. “that’s my last one though, can’t be having too much now.”

“that’s fine,” ryujin says, matching your stature with her body facing towards the dance floor, before she looks down on her watch to see that she received a phone call. “shit, i gotta take this, it’s jihyo.”

you nod her off, implying that you got everything covered for now but you realize that you haven’t seen momo since the cake celebration. “say, where’s momo?”

“she’s in one of the private rooms.” ryujin answers, pointing to the small pathway that leads down to the rooms that she just mentioned. you give her one more look as ryujin picks up the phone before heading out of the club outside to take the call.

not long after, you’re in the hallway of the private rooms, each one with their own door to give a sense of privacy for those groups who did buy it ahead of time. the first three doors were just various groups of people who were already in the club before you and momo’s team arrived, so you didn’t have to worry about them.

but then you were at door number four. and you could hear momo’s laugh through the cracked opening.

like the peeping tom that you were (it’s your job to be curious), you peer through the opening a little wider to see momo’s back facing you. she appeared to be dancing to the music that was playing from the tv speakers. her movements looked to be more alluring, seductive. the nerves in your brain are racking with so many questions to why and who is she dancing for. so you sneak in quietly to see two men on the couch, clearly enjoying the show that momo is giving them.

“you guys like what you see?” momo asks, her words are slurred together from the barely coherent sentence. the movement of her hands up her waist, showing off the curves from her different outfit that was a tank top with black biker shorts.

“i love what i’m seeing here ms. momo, a lot.”

that voice…there’s no fucking way right?

“why don’t you give us a little more skin honey?”

oh, this isn’t good at all.

momo hums out delightfully, taking off her tank top to reveal a skimpy white push-up bra, fiddling with the latch behind her with one hand before ripping off the undergarment from her body. you immediately shoot straight up, glaring at the two men sitting on the couch, their dress shirts slightly unbuttoned and momo turns around, her bare tits in full display. this was your nuclear bomb, and the explosion was imminent.

“christ, what the actual fuck you two?!” you spit out, the sight of heechul and chanyeol’s expressions shrinking away now that they’ve been caught. heechul’s caught in your wave of anger again, and this time was much worse than the previous incident.

“y/n, we—”

“oh, don’t play that card with me!” you begin, stepping closer to the two disgusting men that were now sitting up, preparing to hear an earful from you, shoving chanyeol into the cushions first before flying a fist to heechul’s face, giving him a proper black eye. “i’ve had enough of your bullshit today!” you yell out before tossing momo her discarded clothes. “put these back on, we’re leaving.”

“what? already?!” momo whines, half-sober, half-drunk. she’s definitely smashed, but there’s more pressing problems that need to be dealt with.

you grip her by the arm, pulling her closer to you before your hand snakes down to her waist. the harsh action making momo flustered at your touch when your face is extremely close to hers. the hoodie that she tossed is now being put on by you, giggling uncontrollably at herself because her arms are up in the air before setting the hood on her head to cover her up. “i think we should call it a little early, yeah? what do you think momo?”

“you’re a party pooper.” momo says, her eyes half closed, still smiling.

“unbelievable.” you say harshly, tensing your jaw again once you laid eyes on chanyeol and heechul, checking his fingers for blood on his face. you could do a whole lot more damage, but your words are the most powerful tool in your arsenal, and it won’t be ignored by the higher ups.

“let’s go.” the anger in your voice not reaching momo since she’s still chuckling even when you’re escorting her out of the private room and into the front of the bar of the club when ryujin comes back from her phone call with jihyo.

“woah, where are you taking momo?” she asks, puzzled at momo’s drunken state while she’s staring at your side profile.

“i’m taking her back to the hotel personally. she was in a private room with heechul and chanyeol giving them a show.”

“you’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“tell yoona that i’ve got this, we can deal with those two knuckleheads later.”

strike three: find out your girlfriend was almost taken advantage of by two absolute fucking clowns calling themselves bodyguards.

you’re dragging momo through the hotel hallway, listening to her hums as you place the keycard on the lock, pulling her in and slamming the door immediately after so hard that you might’ve just broke the deadbolt.

momo stands against the closed door leading to the bathroom, her head is somewhat ringing but still conscious to some extent about her actions realizing that she had done fucked up—

“do you have any idea of the amount of shit that you just put yourself in? letting those two fuckwads have their way with you and you’re just allowing it?” you exclaimed, giving no care for the other hotel guests with the amount of yelling that you’re doing already.

standing super close in front of momo, the roles are reversed from when she came to see you the day before and your overwhelming heat was slowly growing within—her cunt pulsing at the tone that you’re using as all that she could do was let out a small whimper, shrinking away into the door behind her.

“y/n," momo slurs out, "i—”

“one: you’re smashed. two: i might come under fire for what i did to bring you back here, and—”

you meet momo’s gaze to notice that her eyes were lidded, she’s doing that devilish smirk that’s tugging at the corner of her lips. looking off to the side before you force her to stand straight up, gripping her arm and shoulder, pressing her to the drywall even more.

momo presses her legs together, she’s never seen you this angry before, especially at her, and she’s liking it.

so with just a little push, you look at her again at the low groan she lets out, seeing that her bottom lip is retracted into her mouth with her teeth just peeking out.

don’t. break.

there’s an intensity through your eyes, bewildered at what you’re doing before the synapses in your brain fully registers what’s present in the moment, and what you’re going to do next, clenching your teeth before parting your lips after with a subtle smile.

you grab momo’s face that lets a small gasp out, letting this newfound opportunity tempt you with all of it’s weight, looking at the flushed cheeks and glowing complexion from the alcohol, scoffing at the state your girlfriend was in currently.

“maybe this bitch needs to have the attitude fucked out of her no?” you mutter, causing momo to moan out with the proposition before pulling her closer to your face, “you’re insane for making me like this, and now you’re gonna pay for it.”

yeah, you’re definitely insane.

strike four: teach your girlfriend how she should be handled after being stupid.

it only took a few steps for you to toss momo on the edge of the bed, her lower half hanging over on the floor as she tried to get up in an attempt to reposition herself, but you pin her down with your flat palm on her back, letting your hand feel out her tapered and exposed waist. momo swallows a gulp, still anticipating what you were going to do next, “feel free to stop me at any time, but you probably won’t do that because you’re liking this so much are you? prissy little slut.”

momo is still wrecked over the alcohol that’s pummeling in her head for now at least, but she hums softly while nodding to comply with the lasting boundary you’ve set up before stripping off your blazer and rolling up your sleeves.

she feels your hands on her waist again. the rigidness of your fingers makes her body shiver at how gentle it is initially, but the roughness behind it when you clutch the sides of her waist. your hands find the waistband of her shorts, pulling it off of her to reveal momo’s exposed ass and the skimpy black thong she was wearing under as well.

“first you give a strip show and you’re wearing a fucking string as your underwear? you reallyyyy want me to set you right don’t you?” you scoff as you knead momo’s ass with your one hand before giving a firm hit that sets the tone with how high-pitched momo’s yelp spills out of her lips.

there’s a firm red mark from the first strike, and you’re tilting your head at how your hand slightly stings from the slap, so of course you’re gonna go back for more. if she’s gonna act like a slut the way you found out what she was doing, how could you not give her the proper punishment that she deserves?

her ass is now beet red, and you’re biting your lip at the sight of momo’s legs wiggling on the edge of the bed and the whimper she’s sounding off like she’s asking to be used as a way to let your frustrations out especially the day you just had leading up to this.

you then rip off your dress shirt and toss it carelessly to the nearby seat next to the coffee table, and momo sees the white cloth hit the chair before you slide your hands up her waist underneath the hoodie you put on, feeling her breasts without the bra since she took it off back at the nightclub.

the shiver that seethes out of momo’s teeth when your fingers find her nipples, pinching the buds to tracing around her mounds with your fingertips before lightly scratching her chest that earns a string of breathy whimpers of being toyed around. "y-y/n, please--" she mumbles out barely.

you then lean over to momo’s side, hand sliding across her ass that catches the leaking arousal from her pussy, massaging her ass before giving it another harshful slap. “need me that badly huh?” you’re smiling against the cuff of her ear at what momo has become and you haven’t even slipped your fingers and tongue inside her yet. “gotta ruin you first, but i promise to take care of you after, be patient for me baby.”

momo’s face scrunches as you loosely press your lips to her face before sliding off the hoodie leaving momo completely naked on the bed still bent over, waiting to be fucked dumb by you.

“hands behind your back, stack your wrists on top of each other.” you say sternly, and all that momo can do is just comply with your commands, exhaling out in desperation but also eager the way she’s moving her head left and right with the lasting touches you’re giving her to her ass and folds with your single finger, smirking at how she’s shuddering.

you then unlink the belt from your pants, folding it in half before creating a small opening loop that creates a loud 'slap' of the fine italian leather. momo feels the grooves of the accessory and the coldness of the buckle before you give her a light hit at the same red mark that makes momo's legs squirm in the sharp, pleasureable pain.

"f-fuck-"

another two or three slaps follow after that.

"we learned our lesson yet?" you ask, gripping the nape with your head over to the side of her ear. momo throws her head back whining, fighting the pain coming from below and the throbbing in her pusling cunt that's all too present now. "yes y/n- it feels-"

"i'm not convinced with your answer." you say, noncomittal with your actions saying otherwise. you continue with a few more light slaps to give more leniency before wrapping the belt around momo’s stacked wrists behind her back before fastening it tightly, leaving a little bit of room for momo to move her hands around.

once both hands were bound together, momo feels a sudden stillness in the air, lifting the upper half of her body slightly to shift herself on the bed only to be pushed down by your hand on the small of her back just over her tied hands, looking over her shoulder to give your eyes the wonderful view of your girlfriend being submitted to the brand new y/n she managed to crack. the towering presence taking you to new heights. “wow, you do look good from behind.”

your hands start to shift over to the sides of momo’s waist, feeling the slimness of her figure before trailing down to the slopes of her ass, letting your fingers join together to cup them as momo squirms at the sensation of your cooling touch. she’s humming out a sound from her closed lips, almost like appreciative tone the way her side profile is hinting towards a smirk– “please, y/n, i need you—”

she needs this, and you’re considering the cards in your hand right now; give in and let momo have her way with you outstandingly topping her, or make her beg to get the drunk horniness fucked out of her.

so, you go with the second option.

“how badly do you want me inside?” you mutter, kissing the top of her rear shoulder blade before your lips start to canvas the small divot of her spine. “were the cameras at the show and the two guys leering at you not enough?”

“mmmph…” momo croons, hiding her face before you smack her ass again from the side this time, shooting her face out in response to the pain. “god, w-why are you—”

“answer the question babes, do you want me inside of you? yes or no?”

momo hides her face again, before letting out a whiny coherent sentence that you could barely hear, but you need to drag it out of her. “final warning, if you want me to give you what you want, beg for it. i need you to say it out loud for me.”

“y-you, you– you–”

“speak up love, i wanna hear your lovely voice.”

for two short seconds, you wait for an answer, and then—

“please baby, i want you now. i want you to fuck me with my hands tied till i won’t be able to walk. fuck, you’re such a tease, just make me yours.” she slurs out, but the neediness overpowered the alcohol in her system that makes it easy for you to understand.

while she was saying that, your left hand was already primed hovering over her cunt, the last bit of teasing—the best possible punishment that you could give momo as you’re fighting the urge to let your fingers dive into the heat.

“you already are.” you say, and dip the pads of your middle and ring finger into her cunt, letting momo find that searching ache- or, at least the sounds that were music to your ears as she cursed out a noise before shoving her face into the sheets, her fists clenching through the tied leather.

there’s no warning or preface, just the coaxed maneuver of your fingers all up inside her, twisting and turning against the slick leaving no remorse as you upped the pace. you know how momo likes it when you turn up the tempo of your thrusting hand, she’s swallowing hard and clenching her teeth because of it and she’s babbling to the point where you can sense the tension from her expression and increase of pitch in moans.

her eyes are closed throughout the entirety of the short time, considering how much you riled her up with your whole act of pinning her in the wall and the mattress to get her to almost cum, catching her hands slack from fists to near cupping hands. momo’s at her high, but you curl your fingers and slide out completely, tearing it away from her.

“n-no no, fuck what are you doing, i—”

you’re snickering as momo’s brows knit together before fluttering her eyes open darting to meet, pleading you everso to let her cum.

“don’t,” you warned, “i was easy on you before, but now i’ll treat you like the bitch that you deserve to be treated.” sliding your hand up slowly on the side of her waist while your other hand was grazing over the marked ass you created.

without warning, you smack her ass again that makes her yell out loud enough for the next door guests to hear, before subduing that with the soothing upward swipe of your flattened tongue that earns a hitched breath and a moan filled with satisfaction the way you’re lapping up momo’s soaked cunt for the time being–an act of generosity that is all a facade that’s part of the play for now.

“mmnh–” you groan against the searing core, all that you want to, “so fucking good baby.”

momo gives you a subtle “mhm hm” with her eyes still closed, biting her lip at the feeling of your mouth on her swollen pussy before the intensity increases with your two fingers now inserted into play.

you almost get caught off track with the amount of time you indulge yourself with momo’s pussy bent over against the bed, palm and fingers splayed on her lower back as the other hand is working along with your tongue working to get her close, then again stopping once the hitched breaths are near its peak.

pulling away with a kiss and a bite to the inner thigh, momo squirms again when she realizes that the feeling of your fingers and tongue are no longer there, only to be substituted with your moving hands on her hips, pulling her up to the bed and deepening her arched back. her knees are already bent like they’re kneeling that opens up her pretty, puffy pussy lips. the sight alone makes you want to frame it in a sex museum, but this is momo’s pussy, your pussy to tear up, and no one else’s.

leaving teasing touches with just your fingers dancing along the slopes and curves of her body, you go at it again with another quick round, pumping inside of her that makes her come close to her climax again, snatching it away in quick successions, you’re also planting marks on her back while you listened to the heavenly moans that cancels out the frustrations you had earlier today while on the job.

momo is going to be so thoroughly fucked, left breathless when you finally set her free from the tied belt, her wrists marked red from how much she rubbed the leather against her skin.

“flip,” you order, “and don’t even think about moving. i’ll put you how i want you to be.”

in the hopes of you letting her cum (for the first time tonight at least), momo follows your demands, doing exactly as she’s told by flipping herself over, barely able to prop herself up on her elbows, as you give teasing kisses to her chest, working your way up to her mouth that eases her mind for just a bit.

“arms up.” and momo listens as a smirk forms at the corner of your lips against hers, your hand fishing for the necktie while your face was occupied. you then straddle momo over her chest, wrists crossed at the top of the headboard with a small knob that was perfect for you to wrap around with the tie, securing it firmly but also just leaving with enough room for momo’s hands to move around (you were liking it when you see her squirm with her hands.)

once that was set, you then meet your gaze with hers, giving another sensual kiss for a few seconds before trailing down to the hollow of her throat, leaving light marks before crossing off the mental checklist in your head of how to push momo’s buttons.

hands on breasts, massaging them with the addition of the mouth on her nipple, causing her to moan at the contact, stimulating as your rough palms glide over and below her upper chest. momo’s cunt is throbbing uncontrollably from the few times you’ve edged her and how you’re doubling down your efforts in overestimation is clouding her mind from the relentless pleasure she received from tonight so far.

“we liking this, are we?” you murmur against her skin.

“please, god i– nmh”

“all of this riling and you still want me to do something about it? pitiful.” you laugh before leaving another dark mark on her torso.

“i won’t like it, i swear— wanna be ruined….just fucking destroy me…” momo sighs out, her eyes blinking repeatedly as your gaze shifts lower and lower until you finally reached to her swollen, soaked cunt. “y/n—” she’s begging so much more than before, and you almost feel bad. "please, wanna cum so bad..."

“shhh, maybe.” you mutter over her face for another chaste kiss to her cheek and jaw. “we think we deserve it now?”

momo can only whimper at the question as you give her a meaningful kiss that was gentle, her body easing from the tension of your touch as a flick of your tongue across her lips, relaxing for just a moment before you pull away.

the sight of her bent over for you was enough to get off on, but when you look at momo’s gaze—the way she’s leaking neediness: her lips are swollen, chest heaving with heavy breaths, cheeks tinted with a highlighted pink redness all over, her eyes are nearly crossed from your kisses like she’s dizzy for more.

momo’s eyes flutter shut once again as you kiss her cheek, the small area behind her ear that she adores you for letting her know that you’re still pushing all the right spots together the more you move further and further down to her hips—where her cunt awaits as she feels your lips moving closer from her inner thighs.

sensitivity was something that you were hyper aware of, honing in your ears to the sounds and breaths that really makes momo cry out, praying that you’d give her what she wants. the pecks were then exchanged for the sudden surge once your lips finally latch onto her pussy, and momo bucks her hips forward while your hand hooks onto them, keeping her in place.

you’re letting her find it, tongue and mouth swirling and humming in all the ways you know that makes momo crazy. her thighs are pressed against the sides of your head, prolonging the sensation with your nose buried into her clit. you feel the tension building up within her—right where the sounds are at the apex—and you shift your head off to the left suddenly, yanking the orgasm away once again.

“that’s my girl.” pulling back to mutter against her leg, looking upwards to see momo’s head rolled back, and her wrists are fighting against the tied fabric from their crossed ‘X’ position.

“y/n, please.” she begs again, “you’re so– so bad, baby i can’t—”

you’re trailing your mouth up her body again, hands grazing the fine line hinted at her abs. “so amusing…” you mutter out, running a finger along her jawline from the end of her jaw to the tip of her chin. “dripping from being worked up so much by me…”

a hand is combing momo’s tangled wolfcut, and your head is at an angle with the most devilish smirk as your kneecap touches the heat between her legs, running your hand to feel the seeping slick that’s coming out of her, and another whiny remark is let out at the reeling notion of your touch.

“fuck, just ngh– i’m– can’t be nmh—”

she’s speaking complete nonsense at this point, and you can’t ignore the remarks at this stage now. your lips retreat from nibbling her ear lobe as your hand works simultaneously, inserting into her folds again that leaves momo shaking. more marks are now seen across her body from her neck to her chest, fuck they might as well be bruises at this point the way you’re just chewing away at the enticing body that’s lying under you.

another harsh bite sends momo screaming, keeping your mouth occupied with the three digits already pumping in her, a subtle nudge of her clit with your thumb that has momo somewhat say your name loudly, eyes rolled all the way back with her mouth wide open, she might just go numb at this point.

“such a good fucking girl mo, take it like the pretty slut you are…”

the breathy pants get a lot bigger in the hotel room as you thrust mercilessly into her, it’s all instinct at this point as one more push was good enough to get her across and she finally cums all over your fingers after all that degrading and teasing you’ve put her through, hips shivering as her ass is off the mattress.

“hnngh! oh fuck!, god i’m cumming, c-cumming–”

it's so hot when you're like this for me.

momo’s high was only short lived when your lips are on her nipple again, nibbling on the bud with a little more ferocity as her elbows try to tense forward, but the necktie holding her on the headboard keeps her from buckling in. it sends a short circuit through her entire nervous system.

no chance to recover for momo, shaking her head with her teeth clattering against itself, you continue to mark up her chest again, leaving a noticeable bite mark on the rim of her shoulder. momo starts to see sparkles in her head, and her vision starts to zone out. this was a first for her being used like this, used by you; for your own benefit to completely have control over.

“god, shit– wai—no–pleas–” she tries to cry out, voice nearly breaking, and her face is scrunched up to the maximum.

“you can tell me to stop mo, do you want that?”

you can only see momo’s heaving chest rising and falling at an alarming rate, but she shakes her head with her fists clenched through the necktie. “i’m giving you what you want, so fucking deal with it.”

momo has gone multiple rounds with you before; but after being edged to the point where she could just cum in quick successions? you’ve managed to learn that about her body faster than she realized, which is impressive to say the least, one of the many tricks you’ve managed to master. so you bite her nipple again, inciting a moan and her legs close around your hand, wiggling your fingers sliding in and around her walls to get her going again in no time.

a litany chorus of your name being sung through her vocal chords with a mixture of a cry breaking through in between shaken breaths, and momo is trying everything in her power to just see it through—even if tears are starting to stream down her eyes. her walls clamp down on your fingers again, pumping through it, but now you leave a trail of nibbles down her body again before shifting to the lower part of the bed and back to her cunt, joining your fingers with the swipe of your tongue.

“no—no no no, wait, bab- y/n– fuck, go easy p-please, i’m sensitiv–”

“i could care less of a shit if you can’t handle it anymore, you owe me a good meal.”

you’ve got four fingers in her at this point, and while you’re surprised by the stretch and the liquid sounds coming out of her fucked pussy, momo has blown past the point of no return, and you’re feeding into that as you slide your fingers out, letting your mouth finally have it’s chance to finish the job.

momo closes her legs around you again reflexively, but this time the pressing in between her heat was powerful enough for her to take your head off since she managed to crack your neck slightly.

you growl out at the act, pulling her legs apart before sliding your hands up to the bottom of her calves, raising both of them upwards for you to have free reign in shoving your face deeper into her cunt, tongue licking up the sweet arousal with no restriction. there’s a slight resistance, and you bite lightly to the side of her swollen lips.

“n-no more, please–p-pleas—”

“baby,” you tell your girlfriend who is completely fucked by your mouth, growling with a kiss to her asscheek, “keep your fucking legs up.”

momo can’t do much, nor that she had a say or fighting chance to do so. you’re holding her down as you eat her out, the pent up aggression and anger that you had for all of the things gone wrong clearly taken out on her. she lets out a piercing scream, (much more like a screech the way she’s shaking under your touch) and feels her body go limp, mind clearly passed from consciousness barely as she finally cums in your mouth, cleaning up her cream with your tongue, humming with the craving fully fulfilled while you help set momo’s legs down.

you give her pussy one last chaste kiss, before wiping off the last remnants of her cum from the bottom of your lips with her tongue and finger, sucking on it earnestly to prolong the taste. you’re panting out from exhaustion, and the entire lower half of your face is soaked, but the sight was all well worth the reward.

momo’s tied hands fall slack from the headboard, her head is off to the side, her eyes are closed, cheeks flushed pink with parted lips in inconsistent, labored breaths. her entire body is marked all over; the hickeys and bite marks are basked in glory of the light from the lamp, her thighs are pressed together, rubbing, hiding the additional marks on her legs and her clearly swollen pussy that’s also red.

you run your hand up her thigh again, and she whimpers at the slightest touch. every part of her body is either bucking or twitching as all that’s heard from momo’s lips was shaky breaths, the sensation hasn’t settled in her body or mind with the amount of back to back to back to back to back orgasms she had in one go. this might be a brand new record between the two of you and she looks way more ethereal the way she is just left in an absolute mess.

“fuck.” your mind was having trouble conjuring up the proper thoughts, your heart drawing these stuttering breaths that might seem unhealthy, the wave of hunger and lust finally peeling away from you. “fucking amazing.”

leaning over her, you untie her hands, holding them together as you shift momo over more into the bed, wrapping your arm around her as she’s still trembling from what just happened. “i’m proud of you momo, my pretty girl…crazy that you could handle all of me…” you sigh out, rubbing your thumb over her cheek, her eyes are still closed but she lifts a small smile of praise while you showered her with light kisses.

an intrusive thought washes over and you shift yourself away from momo’s lying body, setting yourself slightly on top of her but still on the bed, trailing your kisses from her exposed collarbone up to her neck—your lips catch the taste of salt from the tears that were streaming down from her face earlier, and she sniffles a bit when you wipe them away with a soft smile of appreciation.

“so fucking pretty.” you mumble out, and momo’s lidded eyes meet yours; the gaze softened when you start to rub your hand on her hip to help soothe the soreness as she used her remaining energy to lean up and lock lips with yours again. her hand resting on your shoulder as you plant more pecks along the line of her chin, the way her small fingers are slotted against your neck so modestly. “god, you’re so good to me…”

whenever momo wakes up from sleeping or a nap, her nose is always the first sense that picks up the tasty scent of food, it isn’t any different this time today.

she’s laying on her side, on the farthest end of the bed, eyes fluttering along with a slight headache from however many drinks she doesn't remember having from the night before. the familiar weight of your body absent behind her as she tries to sleep off the tingling that still lingers through her body, but she eventually moves around under the covers to notice that she’s wearing a hoodie now–the same hoodie from last night.

momo hears a faint conversation down the small walkway to the outside of the hotel room, but your voice was all familiar with that smooth and swift tongue speaking in french before the locks of the door are heard again.

you walk over with a tray, setting it down on the coffee table next to the bed before shifting your look towards the bed seeing momo’s face.

“you’re up.” you greet her with a gentle tone, one that is very very light-hearted whenever it’s just you two together. momo turns to her side again, prompting you to walk over to the far end of the bed, kneeling over give a few quick kisses on her cheek before fixing her disheveled hair.

“got you some breakfast, c’mon get up.” you say, “we have a free day to do whatever with the rest of the team later.”

a small giggle is heard from momo’s nose, before she doesn’t move to get up, rather scrunch up under the bedsheets protecting her like a little kid that’s scared of a monster. “um, can you carry me? i kinda can’t feel my legs…”

you look back with parted lips, forming a smile after with a laugh, “of course baby, anything for you.”

the hotel room service breakfast is pretty much normal just like any hotel. just your usual eggs, sausage, bacon, french toast, some waffles or pancakes, and a mix of fruits. you already finished half of your plate and now feeding momo a slice of the syrup drenched breadstick. “good, right?”

momo hums as she finishes up the last bits of her plate, the last thing was the glass of apple juice that was now put on the table. you wipe your face with a napkin before staring at momo again who just shys away since you’re staring at her for a little longer than usual.

“is there something on my face?”

“there is.” you answer, leaning over to kiss her on the cheek that had a little bit of whipped cream from the belgian waffles you two ate. momo blushes when you pull away and you’re wiping the corner of your mouth with your thumb. “there, all better.” you say with a smile, getting up after.

“wait,” momo says, and your attention is on her again. she has her arms up with her legs on the seat of the chair.

“momo wants uppies?” you say cutely, and momo just nods. so you pick her up from the seat and set her on the bed, fixing up the covers to get more situated. it was a little early and most of the activities would be in the afternoon, so it wouldn’t hurt to just chill for a bit.

“sorry about last night…” momo says, twiddling her fingers together. “i got carried away with the drinks.”

“it’s okay.” you respond, kissing her hand to comfort her. “was i too much last night?”

“no, i actually liked it…”

“that so?” you ask, teasing momo as you move closer in the bed. “i don’t want to be the one to have all the fun, you know.”

“well, you can.” momo admits, and you’re folding yet again crawling on top of her, pecking her lips as momo melts into putty again, mumbling against her lips,

“expect more of that from me then.”

“what did you say to me again last night? that i made you insane?” momo responds, stealing another kiss from your stoic face. “i think you may be right.”

“what if we told yoona that we want to make this relationship public? i don’t wanna hide this anymore.”

momo ponders for a quick second, before locking onto your eyes again. “if we did, then everybody is gonna go–”

“insane.”

#saiiidahyunee #kpop x reader #twice x reader #twice imagines #twice smut #kpop smut #hirai momo #twice momo #momo smut #momo x reader

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showyoumyfavoriteobsession · 2 years

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I'm slowly making my way through the Half-Life Alyx commentary track and man... game dev seems so cool. I know it's a lot of work but the problem-solving seems so interesting. If only I could focus enough to learn one (1) game engine

#i can muddle my way through twine but that's about it #i've picked up and put down tutorials for rpg maker and unity a couple times #i would love to do a game jam it seems like a good way to get started #but right now i wouldn't be useful to anyone on a team #i should probably set a more achievable goal of like. making some mario maker levels or something #anyway the hl:a commentary is really interesting #and i like that - just like some of the hl2 commentaries - they sometimes break you out of the game to show you how things are working #i just watched a part about how combine soldiers move around that showed how it dynamically calculates each foot placement along the path #so that it doesn't look like they're sliding along and they always turn to face you while moving #there was also an interesting one about how particle effects have to be built completely different in vr #and even the ones where they're not demonstrating they talk about the massive amount of playtesting they do #and how it changes the player experience #down to stuff like the destination marker when you teleport or balancing ammo quantities #ANYway #j rambles

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cannikii · 5 months

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Spoiled.

Ais, Vere, Kuras, Mhin, Leander x Reader

a/n: i didnt mean to post this so late omg but i got distracted so bad by crk HAHAJ sorryy!! also, requests are open

notes: ais, vere, kuras, mhin, and leander x reader (seperately), they all love to spoil you, vere is a FLIRTT, leander is basically your sugar daddy, g/n reader, not proofread SORRY!

AIS — JEWLERY

ais liked the sight of jewlery on himself. he wore earrings, rings, bracelets, anything. he wouldn’t say he loved jewlery, because honestly, he would be fine with or without it.

so he thought nothing of it when you pointed at his bracelet, asking if you could try it on. he seemed pleasantly surprised at first before he grinned, slipping it off his wrist.

“sure, sparrow. go ‘head and put it on.”

since you had just come to the town recently, you had no accessories such as jewlery at all. the bracelet on your wrist was a new look, despite the way it hung loosely due to the difference in the size of you and ais.

ais stared with curiousity, his head cocked slightly as he watched you giggle at the sight of the bracelet dangling loosely on your wrist.

“ah, it’s too big for me. here.” he barely noticed you dangling his bracelet in front of his face, and he slowly took it and placed it back on his wrist. he stared at your neck, then your arm, then your ring, making tiny notes in the back of his head.

and before you knew it, a double in your size of each and every piece of jewlery he had was in a small, pretty box that rested in your hands. he looked down at you, his grin toothy. there was a copy of his necklaces, his bracelet, his rings. all of it, just for you.

“you know, i was thinkin’ of how you looked with my bracelet on. you looked so cute, thought you’d look cute with it all, sparrow.” he grinned.

and before you could even begin to thank him, or say anything at all, his hands are reaching for the box, setting it aside. the two of you sit together in a comfortable silence as he grabs your fingers gently, slipping each ring on a certain finger so that you’ll be completely matching with him. it’s an odd sight— but its not necessarily new. ais was always gentle when it came to you. (well, as long as you wanted him to be..)

and then he slips the bracelet over your wrist- careful, yet big and rough hands against your arm. he seemed rather focused.

and then he leaned closer near your neck, his hair tickling your cheek as he clipped the necklaces around your neck. he leaned back, looking satisfied as he grinned.

“oh…” he hummed lowly, head turning to the side slightly as he looked at you, taking you all in. “hm… you almost wear them better than me, sparrow.” he teases, laughing slightly.

and from then on out, don’t be surprised when he randomly comes up to you with a new box full of jewlery, and makes you sit with him as he puts them on from you.

and hey! maybe he’ll even offer to do some piercings for you. he thinks you’d look stunning with some, and he’d be more than happy to do them himself.

VERE — CLOTHES

vere was obsessed with himself- everyone knew that! he was cocky, flirtatious, and more. he kept himself well groomed, had beautiful fashion, and had a face that was very, very hard to resist.

but when you came into his life, he had something new and beautiful to obsess over.

you were well kept (in his eyes, at least) and your face had him practically in a trance, sometimes fumbling with his teasing phrases when he would attempt to speak with you.

and he’d admire you deeply, his eyes tracing every- and i mean every single feature of you. and with that, he’d be able to imagine you just perfectly wearing clothes that he thought you would look just like a model in.

“(name),” he purred, approaching you with a sly smile, “i got something for you. please, go and put it on for me.” a bag is quickly placed in your hands, and he quickly directs you to a private area in which you can change.

and when you open the bag, your eyes are wide open, your jaw dropping. it is a gorgeous, expensive looking red dress/suit. (imagine any red dress/suit that looks cute to you!! ^^) and when you put it on, it happens to fit you quite perfectly, leaving you to question how vere knew which exact size to get.

your hands are folded and placed in front of you in a shy manner as you walk out, approaching vere. before you can even ask anything- for example, the price- he’s talking.

“oh, (name)… you look so…” he’s in a dream-like stare as his hand rests on his cheek, staring at you very intently with a grin. “why don’t you do a little spin for me, please? i want to see how it fits all of you.”

you sheepishly oblige, spinning in your new outfit that hugs you so perfectly. vere watches intently, taking the sight in with a sigh.

the sigh makes you perk up worriedly. did he think it looked bad on you? did he-

“(name),” he brings you out of your worried state, his voice like honey in your ears. “god, i could just eat you whole, you know? this looks so good on you, you don’t even know.” he grins as he makes his way to you, his hands finding his way to your hips.

and when he’s closer, you notice the color of your outfit and his hair is about the same exact thing. of course he would make it the same… his own little way of showing you off as his.

in little time, your wardrobe is piled full with clothes, and you probably bought maybe a tenth of them at most. some of the clothes are- well, were vere’s clothes that he had deemed looked better on you.

KURAS — CARE

“kuras—! it’s barely a cold, i have the smallest fever!”

he simply hums in reply, acknowledging yet completely ignoring your protests at the same time. his back is turned to you as he prepares a medicinal tea.

“kuras.” you huff, and he barely turns his head over his shoulder to face you, and you now see that he wears that awful teasing grin of his. “you know you have patients lined up outside that need your help more than i do!”

“and they can wait patiently. i have more important matters to take care of, such as nursing you back to health, dear.” he’s sweet and gentle when he talks, despite his teasing expression.

“it’s just barely a cold…” you grumble as he places the medicinal tea in your hands.

“sure, but we don’t want it to get any worse, do we now? i want you to return to well health soon. i hate seeing you ill.” he hums, hands that are surprisingly soft reaching to hold the side of your face, thumb brushing over your features.

you can protest no longer, practically melting into his touch with a deep sigh.

with kuras there, expect to never need to care for yourself, yourself!

despite his busy job, he always seems to magically make time for you. he’ll nurse you back to health if you’re sick, he will comfort you if you’re not feeling your best, he’ll cook for you… well, he’ll TRY to cook for you. and if (when) that doesn’t work, he’ll always find some delicious food at a vendor to pick up for you.

“kuras, i know you’re busy. you should probably head on to work..”

“my love. you didn’t seem like yourself today, i’d like to be with you for the day. i cannot stand seeing you feel even the slightest bit bad, you know?”

before you can protest, he continues: “i’ll stay with you because i love you and care for you dearly, (name). i’m sure the patients can wait.”

his hand finds yours, giving it a comforting squeeze. you sigh, inevitably giving in to him.

sometimes, if he were to be with you at your home, he would randomly begin to tidy up for you. he doesn’t mind it— if its for you, he would never mind it. hell, he’d do about anything as long as it would make you happy.

and in the quiet moments together when you can sit peacefully, just holding each other, it’s important for him to make sure you understand just how much he cares for you.

“id do anything for you, my dear, if you had asked. i love you.”

MHIN — PROTECTING YOU

“mhin! come on, have a drink, why don’t you?” leander grinned largely at mhin, but they were completely distracted.

their eyes had followed you as you bid your farewell and exited the wet wick, pushing out the door, seeming careless as ever. it made them tense, and they barely registered leander’s words as they stood up from their chair.

“…no. i have things to do.”

leander sighed, smiling as he shook his head. “you know… if you never let (name) outta your sight, and always protect them, how are they gonna learn to protect themself when you arent there to protect them?” he asked, cocking his head as he watch mhin.

mhin had become tense at the question, staring at leander with a glare as they scoffed. they had a lot to stay, but the only thing they were able to muster up was a “what i do doesnt concern you.” as they quickly walked out of the wet wick and went to follow you.

now, it could go two ways. mhin could straight up catch up to you, often claiming that they simply had business with you or that you guys had happened to cross paths.

that, or mhin would watch you quietly, leaving you undisturbed from their prescence (even if that would never be a disturbance for you), and from anything that would cause you any sort of harm.

if mhin let danger even come a foot within you, they would never forgive themself, even if you survived such a danger. if something like a soulless ever even touched you, they would truly never recover.

leander’s words play in their head sometimes- that if they keep protecting you like this that you will never learn to protect yourself when they aren’t there.

mhin grumbles at the thought, rolling their eyes. it’s a simple concept to them: they’ll never let you out of their sight, and they’ll never let harm come your way.

anything that dared to touch you would surely regret it.

so when a soulless jumped at you, snarling and hungry for blood, mhin was on top of it in a mere second. you were almost just barely cut by the creature, and you stumbled back, falling on your rear.

mhin could barely control their movements. after they finished off the soulless, they rushed to you, pulling you up to your feet.

before you could even muster up a “thank you” they wrapped their arms around you— one around your back, one around the back of your head.

they realized their actions just a second too late, but when they felt your shaking, fearful hands wrap around them, their grip only grew tighter.

“it’s… it’s okay, (name). i’m here. i always am. don’t be scared.”

LEANDER — MONEY

“it’s on me!”

“leander, i got it—“

“no, ma’am. i insist.”

and he’d shoot you that same shit-eating yet charming grin that made you sigh, silencing your protests. if you wanted to buy anything at all and leander was within a distance, forget about even thinking about your wallet. this man will let you buy nothing with your own money.

matter of fact, if you show the slightest interest in something, you’ll suddenly find it fully paid for and in your hands.

the amount of things you have that aren’t even bought with your own money is starting to get concerning.

when you’re sitting at the counter of his bar and you ask to start a tab for yourself, he just smiles at you, laughing in such a way that brings a heat up to your face.

“oh, sweetheart… why you even ask for a tab still is beyond me.” he would smile as he slides your drink across the table. the pet name he uses throws you off just enough to have you not deny him paying for your drink.

“leander,” you start with a sigh, “you cant just buy me everything i want, y’know..”

he cocks his head in seemingly honest confusion before he grins. “oh? but i can, (name). money isn’t something i want you to be worrying about. or spending on anything.. as long as im around, that is.”

when he sees that you have something new that he didn’t buy, he’ll even get pouty. he loves to see you with things that he bought that are now all yours.

“(name)… how’d you get this?”

“i bought it myself.”

he’d groan like a child, resting his chin on your shoulder as he talked, arms wrapped around the front of you. “(name), please. my money and i are right here always, you don’t need to be spending so much money.”

“but, it was onl-“

he shushed you, shaking his head. “i dont care if it was one cent or a thousand dollars, sweetheart. why don’t i just give you a little weekly allowance of spending money, hm? it’ll make me happy.” he smiles innocently, yet you raise an eyebrow.

“leander, i’m not your sugar baby.”

“you’re not?” the childish, teasing fake sadness in his eyes make you laugh, shaking your head.

“no, i’m not. i’m your girlfriend.”

“oh…” he trails off, grinning. “girlfriend, sugar baby… same thing, you know..?” his voice is teasing and so is his grin, yet he still looks so damn handsome.

this man will never not be spending money on you.

730 notes · View notes

catboyieejeno · 3 months

Text

gameboy :: p.js — one

genre: gamer! jisung x gamer! reader, college au cw: female reader, fwb to lovers, explicit smut, pervy jisung, male masturbation, oral (m and f receiving), unprotected sex, inexperienced jisung, cum play/breeding kink, pet names, slight humiliation kink, size kink, creampie, probably more wc: 18.257k

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The red letters that flash across your screen read ‘Defeat’, illuminating your dimly lit room with a shy, red hue. The instant the word appears on your monitor, a voice blasts through your headset, erupting in emphatic complaints and protests. You can hear the clatter of a keyboard and mouse being shoved around on the other end of the receiver, and it takes everything in you to stifle your laugh.

“We definitely could’ve won that!” the boy scoffs, “I swear, sometimes it feels like you and I are the only people with any fucking game sense.”

“Wow, thanks for the validation,” you joke, instinctively queuing up for another match. Your eyes trail up to the little icon in the corner of the screen that glows green every time he speaks.

“You know what I mean,” he grumbles, and you imagine he must not look all that different from the little crying cat picture he set as his discord icon. The thought makes you snort, but he ignores you, stating, “I think this is my last game,”

You nod even though you know he can’t see you, “same, I have class tomorrow,”

“First day of the semester for you, too?”

You nod again. “Unfortunately. My days of gaming until four and sleeping until noon have come to an end.”

He laughs, leaning forward in his chair as he realizes something, “You know, I never asked what you’re studying,”

“Oh,” you blink, “Well, the first class I have tomorrow is just a random credit I needed, but I’m actually majoring in-”

It takes less than a few seconds for your words to drown out into a muffled buzz, and the only thing Jisung can focus on now is the silky, smooth sound of your voice.

He would never admit it, at least not out loud, but your voice makes his heart beat just a little faster. The way each and every word rolls off your tongue makes his breath hitch, imagination running wild at the thought of what your lips look like when they mold to form each syllable and sound.

Every night like clockwork, Jisung finds himself rocking side to side in his desk chair, eyes hanging low and round lips curved up into a smile as he listens to you speak.

It’s so easy to talk to him, too. By now, you’ve lost count of how many nights the two of you rambled off in voice chats, watching shows or playing video games or simply oversharing the details of your lives. It’s only been a few months since you met in a game chat, on that night where he practically harassed you for your discord after you carried him up a rank in-game. You’re secretly grateful he did, though you wouldn’t let him know that; the two of you effortlessly became part of each other’s daily routine, and now, calls with you are his favorite way to end the night. Tonight is no exception.

Jisung begins to mindlessly swing in his chair as usual. He’s humming passively between your small pauses to encourage you to keep going as his hands automatically start caressing his torso. It’s a somewhat innocent gesture, or at least it starts out that way: his palms sliding across the ridges of his abdomen as he listens to your voice. It’s better than music to his ears, and it urges his long fingers to dance closer and closer to his waistband.

“–and I thought about changing it, but I think with an degree in Lit, I could probably get a career in–”

Lost in your voice, Jisung slips his hands into his shorts, holding his balls as he fully zones out of the conversation. He knows you’re saying words and forming actual sentences, but his social awareness has dwindled completely and he absolutely can’t seem to get past how sweet you sound, and how much sweeter you would sound under… different circumstances. He moves up to hold his dick gently and furrows his brows. Almost accidentally, his thumb brushes along the underside of his tip, teeth clamping the inside of his cheek and gnawing on it to ground himself. Just as eager as its owner, Jisung’s dick jolts in his palm, progressively swelling up until it’s flushing bright pink.

“You’re into English?” He manages to stop daydreaming and hone into the conversation for a fleeting moment, just long enough to ask you that simple question and keep your attention off of his rapidly shifting breath.

He’s blatantly playing with himself now, ever so distractedly. It’s an autonomous act: the way the pad of his middle finger trails over his slit to collect a bit of the pre-cum that has begun to dribble out in pearly beads. He hisses, then quickly snaps his mouth shut in hopes that you hadn’t heard him.

“Yeah,” he can hear your smile in your words, “I think I always have been. I used to read all the time and—I swear, if you say I’m boring, I’ll personally come over and choke you–”

As he acknowledges reality for a quick moment, his pace falters. His brows pinch, and he feels confused as he realizes he can’t stop or even moderate his actions, despite the shame slowly beginning to wash over him. The more you talk, the harder he grows. His grip is getting tighter, his strokes needier… he must be losing his mind. With a gulp, he thinks to himself, what would you do if you could see him touching himself like this to you? Would you think it’s sick and twisted or would you offer to help him out? His head begins to throb as the room spins around him, but he really can’t seem to slow his motions. By now, he’s bucking his hips up and into his hand while the other covers his mouth, silencing the whines that threaten to leave his throat. He’s breathing heavily, praying to god you don’t somehow notice his perverted actions. Despite knowing that he isn’t thinking straight, Jisung can’t help the thoughts that continue to fog his mind, rampant and obscene.

Could you hear the squelching of his hand pumping his cock, covered in his pre-release? Or the way he’s practically panting, reduced to nothing at the mere sound of your voice? He’s not sure whether or not his mic would even pick that up, but even so, the corner of his lips curl into a lazy smile as his mind continues down his twisted rabbit hole.

In spite of not knowing what you look like, there’s no denying that he wants to give you all of him. He wants to feel himself buried deep inside your throat, your pretty voice vibrating around him as you choke on his length. He feels himself twitch in his palm and he subconsciously nods, picturing it's your walls around him instead of his own inadequate hand. Jisung huffs out once, fucking his fist wildly, picturing how much he’d like to feel himself bust inside of your warm, tight pus-

“Sung? Sung!”

“Huh? W-what?” As he yanks his hand from his shorts, the waistband snaps against his skin and he yelps out at the impact, “Sorry! I promise I was listening, it-its just, I got a little caught up with–” words are tumbling out of his mouth, before he can catch up to them.

“It’s fine, it’s fine! Hurry, just pick your agent before the match gets–” but the timer runs out, and the lobby screen appears once more as you sigh, “–canceled...”

Jisung glances down at his hand, separating his fingers and watching how the sticky pre-cum leaves webbed strings between each of his parted digits. His stomach is also wet, and the tent in his pants is growing increasingly painful with each passing second.

“What were you fantasizing about, huh?” Oh, fuck. The teasing edge in your words makes his nerves tingle, and he throws his head back as you hum into your mic, “Hmm. Well, I guess it was more interesting than what I was saying. Can’t blame you though, the topic of school is boring me too, and the semester hasn’t even started yet. Also, that can’t count as your last game. I literally won’t allow it.”

You queue up for another game and Jisung sighs, watching the timer on the screen tick away. The picture changes, and the two of you are prompted to start a game. A few kleenex wipes collect the mess on his hand and torso, and he settles back in his chair after tossing them, deciding his neediness will have to wait for now.

Bidding you good night is harder than usual tonight, but he knows you need to get to sleep—you mentioned you had an early class and he had his own, so his selfish urge to keep you talking until he came in his hand would, unfortunately, need to take a raincheck.

After logging off of his computer, Jisung drops his head into his hands with a sigh.

What the fuck even was that?

A mix of shame and arousal take over him as his cheeks begin glowing a deep shade of red. He lets out a small scoff, shaking his head to himself as he gets up from his chair. His dick is still as hard as a rock, and he can’t help but feel flustered at the fact that he has, quite literally, blue-balled himself.

With a towel swung over his shoulder and a clean pair of sleeping shorts clutched in his fist, Jisung walks up to the dorm’s nearest communal bathroom. He turns on the faucet, freeing himself of his clothes. The moment his boxers come down past his thighs, his length slaps against the skin below his navel, making him hiss out as he steps into the shower. The cold water, running down against his heated body, seems to be doing the trick of clearing his mind, that is, until his hands find their way to his stomach, rubbing the soap over it.

It’s so hard to expel the thoughts of you when they’re so intrusive and tempting, and Jisung lets his mind drift off once more, imagining how it would feel to be touched by you, sucked by you. All the soft noises you would make are weirdly familiar; he can practically hear them. His head falls back, lips caught between his teeth as he twitches and gives himself an experimental stroke, shuddering as his thumb glides across the slit of his sensitive tip. He clenches his eyes shut tighter, letting out a shaky sigh and letting the water continue to trickle down his body. He doesn’t know what you look like, other than your hair color which you mentioned the other day. Despite that, he still tries desperately to piece an image of you together behind his eyelids, picturing what your lips are like. And just like that, thoughts of you flood him, and he shudders at the vision of you on your knees, looking up at him with big, innocent eyes, begging to taste him and take all of him. He longs to feel you swallow around him—to grab either side of your face and thrust into your needy mouth until the tears slip from your eyes and your pussy is dripping from the need to be fucked.

Getting lost in the moment, he doesn’t even realize how loud he’s becoming and how fast his fist is working his dick. Jisung's highly anticipated release is only seconds away when a loud knock startles him, lunging him right back into his body.

“Yo, man! How long are you gonna take in there?” His friend and next door neighbor, Mark, shouts from the other side of the door, knocking again and ruining Jisung’s fantasy once and for all.

The boy takes a moment to clear his throat and swallow, not trusting his voice to not crack otherwise, “Uh.. Sorry. I’ll just be a minute.”

It takes everything in him to slow his hand to a stop and pry it off of his shaft, deciding that perhaps, he shouldn’t entertain his filthy thoughts any longer. He quickly finishes showering with another unnecessary interruption from Mark, then drags himself back to his room and gets into his bed, forcing his eyes shut in an attempt to sleep. The longer he lies there, however, the more restless he grows.

His dick feels sore to the touch and it’s driving him absolutely crazy. Every time he adjusts his shorts or moves his legs, his balls throb from how full they are. Knowing he has class to get to the following day, he tries to convince himself that maybe he needs a release to get to sleep. It’ll tire him out, and then finally, he’ll be able to get some rest��There’s at least a bit of logic to that theory, or that’s what he tells himself, anyway.

Against his better judgment that pleads with him to just shut his eyes and count sheep, Jisung huffs out and slips his hands into his shorts to begin touching himself for the nth time tonight. This whole time, he had been unknowingly edging himself and now he’s so, so undeniably and incredibly desperate to cum that it literally hurts.

His free hand brings his phone up and unlocks it, thumb swiping quickly in search of the discord app where your contact resides, the little green bubble next to it signifying that you’re still online. He hovers over the call button, taunting himself with the idea of making a call to you at this time. One little click, and he’d hear your voice again. Just one click and he-

sung ᨐฅ started a call. Today at 11:54 AM

Shit, shit, shit.

He rushes to hang up, but you’ve answered no more than a ring later.

“Hello?”

Jisung holds his rather unsteady breath, staring wide-eyed at his phone. His dick pulses in his palm that now rests still.

“Sung?”

As gently as possible, he lays the phone down on his puffed up chest, letting out his breath slowly so that you don’t hear him.

“I’m gonna assume you called me by accident… ” you sigh out in disappointment, growing quiet in uncertainty. For a second, Jisung is convinced you’re gonna hang up, but when you stay on the line, he peers down at the screen curiously.

Your icon lights up green and there’s some shuffling on your end, presumably from you getting comfortable in bed.

He hears you yawn and smiles fondly.

“I’m tired,” you mumble, “are you asleep? I was actually excited that you called. Maybe it’s my fucked up schedule… or, maybe I’m just dreading tomorrow, but I couldn’t sleep. I don’t know…”

You’re speaking slower and quieter than usual, but you’re speaking, completely oblivious of the fact that he’s thinking of the dirtiest things that involve you, getting off while you think he’s sound asleep.

“It’s always easier to sleep once we’ve talked so,” you pause, then sigh out jokingly, “I guess I'll just talk your unconscious ear off until I fall asleep…You don’t mind, right?”

God, no, he thinks.

Jisung silently celebrates your decision with a pump of his hand, shuffling a bit to get comfortable as you go on about genshin and cats and other things he can barely pay mind to. It takes no more than a few strokes, shallow ones where he caresses the angry head of his dick to the velvety sound of your slurred and drowsy mumbling, for him to bring himself to come so fucking hard.

His knees lock as his cock springs up in his clutched palm, spewing streams of white cum all over his stomach, chest, and thighs. The muscles on his abdomen ache from the way they contract, eyes and jaw shutting tightly as he challenges himself to remain quiet. The sheets aren’t spared from his thick load either, his nut dripping down the sides of his tummy to make dark, round puddles on his bed. His toes curl as he tries his hardest to not gasp out when the pleasure dissolves into sensitivity, digging his head back into the pillow with a hand clasped over his lips.

A few minutes later, the blurriness in his vision is relieved, along with the ringing in his ears. You’ve stopped talking; instead, the receiver picks up your short and shallow breaths, as if you’ve fallen asleep with your mouth open. Cute.

As he assesses the aftermath of his much needed release, he wishes he could snap a picture and send it to you, so that you’d wake up knowing this pathetic mess he made was all for you, because of you.

Alas, he can’t, and he hangs up once he’s completely sure you’re resting. With his eyelids feeling much heavier than before, he manages to toss his phone onto the nightstand before he, too, drifts off to sleep.

•.¸¸☆*･ﾟ

The following morning, Jisung wakes up in a bit of a panic. The first thing that throws him for a loop is the fact that his alarm didn’t go off at all. He quickly realizes he forgot to set it amidst the activities of the night before. The second thing that strikes him is his own hand that rests on his stomach, stuck in some kind of damp, sticky liquid. In his half-conscious state, he lifts his fingers and his puffy eyes widen as he identifies the clear fluid that decorates his tummy as his drying release from the night before.

“Ugh…” He grimaces, sitting up in his bed. His phone, which is less than half full of battery since he forgot to plug it in, blinks back the numbers 8:38 at him. Jisung’s eyes widen as he remembers that his first class of the day, of the semester, is at 9.

“Fuck!” In a flash, his blanket is flung off of him and his legs are swinging over the edge of the bed. He moves to grab some tissues from his nightstand, making aggressively desperate attempts at wiping away his cum. When the Kleenex sticks to him instead, he digs around his drawers for a pack of wet wipes, snatching a pair of pants off of the floor at the same time and practically yanking them up his legs.

Despite almost falling over, he manages to get them on and clean off his torso… for the most part. A random sweatshirt is tugged on over his head and he runs his hand through his hair a few times to tidy it before passively telling his reflection, this will do.

Moments later, he’s rushing downstairs and outside of the dormitory with his unzipped backpack hung over his shoulder. He rushes to unlock his bike, cursing as he fumbles with the keys. Once he’s on, he starts pedaling to the Science building on the other side of campus, heavily dreading checking the time in fear it’ll read some absurd number and he’ll wind up being much later than he anticipates.

The breath that’s been caught in his throat all morning is only released when he steps through the door of the lecture room to see that the professor hasn’t walked in yet, and that the clock reads that he’s 6 minutes early.

Finally slowing his rushed pace, Jisung does a quick once over the room to scan the faces of his fellow students before taking his seat somewhere near the back. Thanking the heavens that his notebook and textbook didn’t go tumbling out of his bag in the midst of his previous hurry, he tugs them out, flipping them open and writing the date on the first page. His laptop, which is where he had planned to take notes on, sits in his dorm room where he left it on his desk. Everyone else has theirs out, but he’ll just have to bring his own next time.

There’s a distant click, and the door on the lowest level of the lecture hall opens. Through it walks a relatively tall and slender lady, heels echoing rhythmically as she strides over to set her dark bag down by the podium. Her hair is tied back high and tight, so much so, that all of her features look like they're blending into her hairline. She looks like she’s somewhere in her mid-to-late fifties, and from the instant she walked in, the entire class went silent.

She clearly has a presence that commands attention and undoubtedly, she fits the visual profile of a strict college professor quite well, especially when she picks up the chalk and scribbles her surname onto the green chalkboard beside the larger projector screen.

“I’m Professor Hwang. Welcome to AST1002, also known as Descriptive Astronomy. If you’re here, that means you took AST1001 with Mr. Kwon last year. He has since transferred to a different department.”

There’s no audible response, although some disappointment does flash across the faces of the students in the room, all of whom did have (and seemingly would miss) Mr. Kwon. Professor Hwang doesn’t seem to notice the lack of responses, and continues speaking as she pulls some papers out.

“Firstly, I’ll take attendance. Then, I’ll pass the syllabus around. I would like for you to note,” she pauses to place a pair of red glasses high on the bridge of her nose, “that attendance is mandatory for my class, and worth 20% of your grade. I’ll go over pop quizzes and weekly quizzes, as well as the initial class project, when each of you have a copy of the syllabus. That being said, I look forward to seeing you all here every class. Please call out when you hear your name.”

As she starts to take attendance, Jisung takes the time to sigh into his hands, both exhausted and dreading the fact that he’d have to spend three days out of the week rotting in a lecture hall to attend a class he expected to be fun, or at the very least a break from his much more difficult core classes. By the looks of it, that’s no longer the plan.

It’s easy to zone out quickly while his mind is still foggy, no doubt from the lack of sleep and the subsequent abrupt awakening that followed. He had just begun an attempt to read the syllabus when something made his ears perk.

Immediately, his head snaps up in pursuit of a soft and airy voice that just responded to Professor Hwang. It’s so quick and in passing that he almost thinks he might have imagined it in his delirious state, but the way the hair on his limbs stands on end is unmistakable. His eyes dart around the room, hitting his classmate’s heads like targets, but there’s absolutely no way to identify the individual who just spoke.

Could it be… No. No way.

Jisung is no stranger to daydreaming about you, but he isn’t completely delusional. He knows the chances of being not only in the same city, but the same university and class as you are absolutely slim to none, so he stops that train of thought dead in its tracks.

It does segway him into thinking of you, though. You’re obviously not here, so he wonders instead what class you are in at the moment. He tries to picture what you’re wearing on your first day of class, trusting you look more put together than him in his old hoodie that is slightly sticking to the dry cum on his stomach. Do you like your classmates? Your professor? He sincerely hopes you have a more tolerable one than he does.

“Park Jisung?”

With a slight cough, he spits out a weak “h-here.” and instantly grimaces, raising his shoulders autonomously as if he would get scolded for stammering so pathetically. The professor, to his relief, doesn’t even glance up from the roster. Then, he feels quite silly for even thinking he would get reproached for that to begin with. In his defense, she’s a rather intimidating woman, and his inner monologue is so loud and flooded with thoughts of you that he fears she may have heard it.

She finishes calling for attendance, resorting to striding up and down the aisles as she begins to dissect the syllabus. In an effort to pretend he’s paying attention, Jisung glances down at the size twelve font on the page, skimming over the words without really taking anything in. During one of the professor’s paces, a pen she had resting on her ear slips and falls towards the ground with a slight clatter, and it seems a student picked it up for her, because there’s a slight mumbling, followed by a sharp “thank you,” and a very, very recognizable,

“You’re welcome, Professor.”

His eyes widen at once. Alright, call him crazy, but now he thinks that it really might have been your voice. The familiar timbre, warm and delicate; a sound he’s heard for months on end and knows embarrassingly well… The thought of being in the same room as you out of sheer luck and coincidence makes his abdomen twist and his palms sweat so bad, he has to wipe them on his pants.

He hates that he can’t fully tell, in fact, he’s almost ashamed that he can’t; before today, Jisung would have sworn up and down that he knew your voice better than even his own, but you sound so far and so quiet that he can’t completely bet all of his marbles. Then, he quickly realizes calling it ‘your voice’ definitely makes him sound delusional, even in the safety of his own forgiving conscience. He decides to call it ‘the voice’ for now, at least until he’s a hundred-percent sure.

An irritatingly long hour and half later, the only sound that continues to ring around the lecture hall is Professor Hwang’s monotone one, reciting each and every itemized assignment and rule on the never-ending syllabus. There’s less than fifteen minutes until class is over, and she shows no signs of stopping her dissertation.

“As for the class project: In pairs of two, you will research a constellation extensively to create a presentation on its formation, who cataloged it, and the Greek myth that may accompany it. Please note that this is the first and last time we will talk about constellations in this class, since they are not cosmic phenomenons but instead, a mere roadmap to the objects and themes we will be focusing on. Consider this strictly as an opportunity to familiarize yourselves with another classmate and show me your interest and effort in the subject. That concludes our syllabus,” Thank God, Jisung thinks.

“Any questions?” She glances around at a hand that floats in the air, near the front of the room, “yes?”

“Will we be able to select our partners?”

“No. Partners will be assigned at the end of the week. Yes?” She calls on another hand.

“As for the constellations,” Wait, that’s it! That’s the voice—that’s your voice, he’s completely sure of it! “Will you assign those as well?”

Jisung elongates his neck to try and peek over the heads in his way. It is you, he’s positive now, but you’re turned away from him, and he can’t fully make out which ‘back of the head’ is your ‘back of the head.’ The echo in the hall makes it nearly impossible to pinpoint who just spoke which means he can’t pinpoint you. For some reason, he finds himself slightly panicking, desperate to finally see you in person.

He follows Professor Hwang's line of sight as she answers that she’ll assign the constellations on Friday too, and finally finds you, seated between a few other students. A few more questions are thrown around, but his eyes never leave you, anticipating the moment he catches a glimpse of your face.

Naturally, his first instinct is to approach you as soon as class is out, but when he sees you spin around to pick up your bag that hangs off your chair, he finds himself glued to his own flimsy seat. Feet stuck to the ground, legs not budging, and air hitched in his throat at the sight of you.

You’re so, so much prettier than he could have imagined with whatever unoriginal features he tried to piece together in his lacking mind, and that fact makes him both exhilarated and completely nauseous.

He’s barely been looking at you for a few seconds when he feels his insatiable cock growing fast in the confines of his pants, with no regard for its owner and the fact that he has to stand up within the next minute or so to exit the hall. Jisung curses under his breath, awkwardly rising to his feet when most of his classmates leave, his bag clutched tightly in front of his groin. He prays you don’t glance over, not even because he has a semi-hard on he’s failing to hide with dissimulation, but because he’s staring at you like some sort of freak and can’t seem to look away.

There’s nothing he wants more than to come up to you and say hi and confess he’s the person you’ve been gaming with for months. He’s pictured it countless times before, you’d think he’d have it down by now, but your beauty is intimidating, and he simply cannot and will not make a fool of himself in front of you by greeting you with a raging boner.

You walk out of the classroom and Jisung’s heart settles in his chest as he sits with his decision to stay anonymous for now.

•.¸¸☆*･ﾟ

“She was obnoxious, you have no idea!”

“My teacher wasn’t much different,” he admits, a small, knowing smile toying at his lips, “she seemed like a real bitch,”

It’s later that same evening, and talking to you doesn’t really feel the same anymore. It’s much harder, because now, Jisung can vividly picture you, sitting in your chair with your hands on your keyboard and mouse. Every word you say, his imagination is right thereafter, picturing your pretty face clear as day in the forefront of his mind.

The moment he got home, he fucked his fist until he came in his hand. It took about five minutes, and then he pumped another one out in the shower, (a much needed shower, at that) where he finally washed away the remains of the night before.

After he had lunch with Mark and the other boys from his floor, they had invited him to play basketball. At the same time, however, he received a direct message from you, explaining you didn’t have any other classes for the day and asking if he could get on earlier.

It’s a little ridiculous, but now that he’s seen you, now that he knows you’re so much closer than he initially thought, he can’t wait to talk to you again. And so he quickly came up with an empty excuse related to his studies, took the berating from his friends like a champ, and rushed upstairs to log into his PC and open up your chat.

“Not only do we already have a project, but we don’t even get to pick our partners.”

I know! He thinks.

“Like,” you start, and he pictures the way your cheeks fill up with air as you let out a huff, “what if I get stuck with some weirdo?”

Instantly, Jisung stops palming himself, letting his hand climb back up to the mouse slowly.

He probably shouldn’t let that innocent statement affect him as much as it does, but he can’t help it. He has the advantage, right? Or, at least it seems that way.

When everything is laid out, he has the upperhand of knowing who you are—you haven’t seen him, yet… but what if you did see him, and he wasn’t at all what you were expecting? Or even worse, what if you got paired together for the project and you thought he was weird or the two of you didn’t get along? That option is far less likely, since there are well over fifty students in AST1002.

“I don’t know,” you start, “I’m considering switching out of the class-”

“No!” Wow. Good going, Jisung.

He catches his slip-up and quickly blurts out, “I-I mean, it might not be that bad! You should… at least give it a shot before you try to switch out, right?”

“I guess you’re right… The add and drop period at my school is until next Friday, so I'll try it out until then.”

Great! Perfect! Good save. The only problem now is: Jisung has a little over a week and a half to somehow convince you to stay in his class and at the same time, not completely butcher his introduction to you. Approaching you now seems practically impossible, but he needs you to stay in the class, even if it means he has to come up to you first. He can’t be bothered to care that his insistence is for his own selfish intentions, if it means getting to see you three times a week.

“But anyway,” he clears his throat, changing the topic as quickly as possible, “how did your other class go?”

“Much better than the first, the teacher let us out early once he covered the books we’d be analyzing this semester and attendance isn’t mandatory since most of the material is online or in the library. I think I’ll swing by there one of these days to see if I can get ahead on some of the assignments.”

“Oh, so you’re a nerd?” You gasp and smack his character in-game a few times. He laughs, calling out, “okay, okay, truce! You’re not a nerd then, just an overachiever.”

“How so?”

“We’re barely a day into the semester and you’re already trying your homework that I’m sure isn’t due for at least a few weeks,”

You roll your eyes, knowing he’s right. With a bit of playful flirtation twisted into your tone, you hum out, “What can I say? I like to please.”

One of his eyebrows perks up, “is that right?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” He can hear your smirk through the screen, and now, he can vividly picture it, too.

Jisung scoffs, backing away from your character so that he’s out of your sight. He cowers into a corner in game; this way, you don’t notice how he stops moving when his left hand leaves the w,a,s,d keys to cup and rub his needy bulge.

•.¸¸☆*･ﾟ

Wednesday’s class is somehow packed and entirely uneventful at the same time. The first of Professor Hwang’s dragging lectures is so loaded that Jisung actually thanks the heavens that he remembered to bring his laptop. Otherwise, his notebook would have been about halfway full already, and his hand? It would have fallen off.

On another relevant note, he’s struggling to stay focused because today, he is sitting much closer to you. Intentionally, of course. There’s still a few rows between him and you, but in this new seat, he can glance at you as often as he’d like without straining his eyes or stretching out his neck to make his gawking painfully obvious. He can clearly make out your smooth skin, along with other details he wasn’t able to notice before like your beauty marks and your dainty earrings. You’re paying unfaltering attention to the class for the first hour, but after the sixty-minute mark, you appear to have become bored. He catches the way your pencil starts doodling along the corners of your notebook and it takes everything in him not to snort when you scribble down a wonky looking cat.

He’s so distracted by you, that every couple of slides, he glances back to the projector to see that the class is now on an entirely different topic than the one he last managed to jot down. He doesn’t mind, though. You’re a much more enthralling sight than quasars and supernovas.

Halfway through the lesson, you decide to peel off your little black cardigan and hang it on the back of your chair, exposing your arms and neck and shoulders to him. Your hair is tied up neatly right after, giving him all the more to gawk at and envision. Jisung has to remind himself that he’s in a classroom just so that he doesn’t start fantasizing about how it would feel to grip your hair up in a similar fashion and fill your throat up with his dick.

With great difficulty, he directs his focus to the board instead, typing quickly into his laptop all the notes he manages to catch before the slide changes again and Professor Hwang’s narrow eyes can scan the room to see who’s paying attention.

When the class is over, you start talking with the girl next to you, aimlessly reaching back for your bag. The gesture makes your cardigan fall, and Jisung has to fully bite his tongue to keep himself from calling out your name and giving himself away. He waits to see if you’ll notice, or if someone nearby will alert you, but neither one happens. Instead, you stand up, still engrossed in your conversation, and make your way towards the door. Instantly, he jogs down the aisle and between the seats to grab it and wordlessly hand it to you, but by the time he makes a move to head in your direction, you’ve already left.

He feels disappointed at first, but the feeling quickly shifts into relief. Wordlessly hand it to you? Does he want your first impression of him to be awkward and borderline rude? No and definitely no. This problem has a simple solution—it’s a blessing in disguise; he’ll take your cardigan home and bring it to you on Friday and maybe, if his courage allows, he can introduce himself then.

“Hey! I noticed you left your sweater here last class. I brought it for you. Oh, and by the way, it’s me! I’m @sung.ie. How did I know it was you? I can recognize your voice across a huge lecture hall.”

Yeah… he’ll think more on that later.

With your cardigan clutched in his fist, Jisung sighs, making his way outside and towards his bicycle. He tucks the clothing item into his backpack and pedals back home, wondering how he’s going to manage to give it back to you since you always get to and leave class before him.

He knows some of his friends and dorm-mates have their own class today, they had exchanged schedules during lunch a few days ago, which leaves him to hope and pray you’ve decided to skip your class and get online. As he parks his bicycle downstairs and locks it, he slips his phone from his pocket and opens discord, but your bubble remains gray and cold. You’re offline.

Maybe you haven’t gotten home yet. He checks his phone again when he gets upstairs, and again when he goes inside his dorm, tossing his bag aside and crashing on his bed. He checks after losing a round of candy crush, and again after replying to a text from his mom.

By the looks of it, you were in class, or at the very least, not available for the moment. Jisung sighs, pretending he’s not actually as disappointed as he feels. It seems a bit dramatic to feel the need to kill time until he gets to talk to you again so he resorts to doing physics homework—a short baseline his teacher assigned that wouldn’t be graded—and tricking his brain into thinking the former is not what he’s actually doing.

When he pulls his bag off his desk chair to grab his laptop, your cardigan comes into view, and he pauses to look at it. He sits like this for a moment, wondering if he should fold it nicely on his dresser so he can remember to take it to you, but his hands act before his mind can catch up, reaching in and basically shoving the material toward his face.

With his nose buried in your scent, Jisung inhales deeply, sinking into his chair as his legs grow weaker. The trace of your floral softener is the first aroma he gets, and then, the smell of your perfume peeks through, soft and sweet and very fitting for you. Once more, his treacherous hands are acting for themselves and he’s suddenly undoing his belt single-handedly.

Once his dick, growing by the minute, is out and clutched in his palm, he finally retracts your sweater. With little hesitation, he wraps it around his erection and pumps once, throwing his head back in immediate relief.

It’s a fucking miracle that his room is the last one at the end of the hall, and that his next door neighbors, Renjun and Jaemin, are both in their afternoon lectures, because nothing would have been able to muffle the wanton moan that rips from his chest as he strokes himself with your scent. His hips are bucking up into the air, and in only a few minutes, he’s broken a slight sweat. His balls tighten from sheer sensitivity at the act of fucking something directly related to you.

A cry of your name, followed by a few more pumps and he’s coming inside your mangled cardigan, his white release breaching the thin material. It seeps through it like light through a veil, gathering thickly on top before spreading into a dark, wet patch. There’s a shudder that passes through his bones as he sits back, burying his cock into the fabric and keeping it there until he’s given up every last drop.

The only thing that snaps him from his post-nut bliss, is the distinct discord ring-tone that blasts through his headset. His computer monitor turns on as your icon appears and simultaneously, his heart and dick both twitch.

“Hello?” With his output device swung over his head, he presses the green ‘answer’ button and speaks into the mic, hiding his slight shortness of breath with a yawn.

“I’m so glad you answered,” you beam, and he does too, “I was worried I had called while you were in class or something,”

As he speaks, he wipes the remnants of his cum off with your cardigan and puts it aside on his desk, tucking his softening (and still very sensitive) dick away into his boxers, “No, you’re good. I had a class earlier today but now I’m free.”

“What a relief,” you sigh, “Would you want to have a little homework ‘sesh’ with me? I just found out the library doesn’t have any available labs. I doubt I’ll be able to concentrate much with you but at least I'll be in good company.”

“Like an e-date?”

“We can call it that,” you grin, then he pictures your expression becoming a gloom one to match your slightly sadder tone as you admit, “Sometimes I wish we went to the same school so we could meet up and study at a coffee shop.”

He snorts, unable to help but crack a joke, “Like a real date?”

Your laugh makes his heart swell slightly. When you reply, “Maybe,” it starts flipping wildly in his chest.

God, you can’t even begin to imagine how badly he wants that.

“That would be nice,” he agrees humbly, a blush creeping on his cheeks. “What class are you gonna study for?”

There’s a pause before you speak again where you hum in thought, flipping through a few pages and shuffling through your bag. Jisung joins you, grabbing his laptop and school supplies, “I have a project for my astronomy class. It’s related to constellations and I wanna start researching them so that I can make an outline for the assignment,”

He looks through his math notes with his brows furrowed down, “I thought she was gonna assign them on Friday?”

Your icon flickers as you reply, “She is, but I want to—wait. How did you know that?” At your words and the realization of his untimely slip up, Jisung’s body goes rigid. He can only imagine the confusion on your features, and he’s quite relieved you can’t see the look on his. If his eyes were to open any wider, he’s sure they might just slip out of his head.

“Oh, um,” he clears his throat mechanically, then gulps in an effort to lubricate it and keep his voice steady, assertive, certain. “You mentioned it on Monday, remember?”

“Did I?” You didn’t, but he really hopes you think you did. “Probably,” At that, he lets out the air he’s holding, shaking his head slightly at himself for being so careless.

“But um, yeah,” he starts before you can give it any further thought, “If she’s assigning them Friday why are you working on it today?”

“Cause she’s also assigning partners on Friday, and I don’t really know anyone besides the girl who sits next to me and I doubt I’ll get paired with her. I want to make sure my grade is secured, you know? I’ve never liked group projects. I feel like all the work gets dumped on me.”

He’s still not entirely sure what you mean to do, or how you intend to create a blueprint of sorts without knowing what it was for, and so he stops flicking through his page of notes to look up at his monitor and ask, “But if you don’t know which constellation you’re gonna work on, how are you gonna make an outline?”

You ponder his question for a moment, then mumble out, “She didn’t mention a rubric or anything, so I figured that as long as I plan out the different sections and give the project a structure, half of the work is cut out, right? I can just assign parts at that point.”

“You’re that kinda person in a group project? I’m sorry to whoever gets partnered with you,” He’s not sorry, not at all. He’s rather envious, actually, despite his attempts to sound indifferent or amusing. Being granted time to spend with you at your place or his, or at the library or the local campus cafe, would be a no less than perfect ice breaker. Jisung would make sure you never felt like all the research and assembling depended solely on you—in fact, he could see himself now, spending countless hours perfecting the details of his assigned part and inquiring about other suggestions to improve the project, just to impress you or at the very least, satisfy you. The reality that someone else would get to do all of that in his place is disheartening.

You guys had rarely ever talked about school before now, since neither of you actually were enrolled in any classes when you started chatting, but now that it’s relevant, he feels like he understands a whole different side of you. You’re organized, and obviously very studious. Hell, you’ve been itching to get started on assignments that haven’t even been assigned yet. You’re responsible, dependable, funny, beautiful, and every time he thinks of you lately, he realizes that his innocent crush is slowly becoming an insatiable one.

“Hey! I’d be very nice if it was you, you know. Show you some favoritism,” the corners of his lips twitch upwards—“But I’m also glad it’s not you,”—and fall down again.

“What? Why?” He tries to not sound too offended.

“I’d end up talking your ear off, Sung.”

“I’m already used to that, don’t mind it. Kinda like it, actually.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He nods curtly, even though there’s a monitor and an entire school campus between you and him and he knows you have no way of seeing his gesture. There's a moment of silence that you spend taking a brief breath as a glow tinges your cheeks.

With a stifled laugh, you open your mouth again, “I think it’s just because you like me that you tolerate my rambling,”

“No.” He’s quick to clarify, “I really do like it.” He loves it.

“And me?” your voice is much quieter, almost giving the impression that you’re shy in asking something so decisive and direct. Jisung, emboldened by your vulnerability, and the distance the screen puts between you two, answers with certainty.

“I like you, too.”

•.¸¸☆*･ﾟ

“The constellation project, as I mentioned during your first class, is a tool for you to acquaint yourself with your classmates. It will be due in 3 weeks, and you can check the syllabus for specifications regarding that. After today, there will be no changing partners or constellations so should you need any changes to be made, you have until class is dismissed. Listen closely as I read out the pairs for the project. I will not repeat myself.”

The sharp tone he’s growing more and more distaste for by the day drowns out as Jisung glances over at you. Today, you’re sporting a bone-colored long sleeve and corduroy pants with half of your hair held back in a shiny clip. You look ravishing. Truthfully, he can’t really tell if you’re wearing makeup or not—although he concludes it doesn’t matter. Your features are soft and pretty nonetheless, and your cheeks have turned rosy from the dropping autumn temperatures.

“Yu Karina will be partnered with Lee Heesung. Your constellation is Cassiopeia.”

When you walked into the lecture hall this morning, there was a hot coffee cup with the campus cafe’s logo on it clutched in your hands, which you sipped on while shivering. Taking your usual seat, you greeted the girl next to you, who Jisung now knew was called Yu Karina.

The dark haired girl perked up when Professor Hwang called her name and waved down the aisle at who he can only assume is Lee Heesung, her partner, then whispered something to you. You looked over at the boy and back at Karina, nodding and giggling with her.

“Jennifer Huh, partnered with Ning Yizhuo,” Professor Hwang referenced her other list, “Constellation: Cancer.”

The two girls greet each other with a look and a smile, but Jisung pays little mind. He’s listening intently—for the first time—in anticipation of hearing one of your names be called. He doesn’t exactly know your full name, only a nickname he refers to you as, the one attached to your discord handle. Otherwise, pinpointing you that first day of class would’ve been much easier.

“Park Jay and Lee Sohee, your constellation is Orion.”

Sitting there, he realizes that in all the months you’ve talked, he’s never once asked for your full first name. Is that strange? What kind of friend is he if he doesn’t even know your name? In all fairness, you never asked for his, either, so he supposes it’s okay. Would have been useful to know, though, at times like this.

After his small confession of ‘like’ on Wednesday, the two of you went on studying your respective subjects, with the occasional (and inevitable) distraction here and there. Admittedly, he thought his comment would be forgotten rather quickly. It wasn’t like he outwardly poured his heart out to you, so he figured you’d move on and just crack a joke or two about it later. There was a change, though; a strikingly obvious one to Jisung, who hangs on your every word like it’s a tether that keeps him from floating. And, even if he didn’t pay such close attention to you, there’s no way he could have missed the new flirtatious ambiance that flourished afterwards. Flirting with you is not uncommon by any means—the two of you playfully tease each other with frequency, but it’s nothing he’d allow himself to look into too much, for his own sake.

That changed in the hours following his comments. All of Wednesday evening, the two of you went back and forth, feeding each other compliments in the form of banter. Again, he thought it would end there, but on Thursday afternoon when you logged on, he asked how your progress was going with the outline, to which you texted back, “I was thinking of you all day. Didn’t get around to doing much else.”

It wasn’t the only message from you that nurtured his feelings, either. There were enough substantially flirty messages from your conversation that night, that he was able to scroll through them and reread them a few times before bed.

ynn ᓚᘏᗢ: yesterday at 6:49PM

hi did you smile when you saw my name pop up on your phone just now

ynn ᓚᘏᗢ: yesterday at 8:22 PM

you’re so cute

i can barely think

ynn ᓚᘏᗢ: yesterday at 9:14 PM

i feel like my day doesn’t make sense if we don’t talk

ynn ᓚᘏᗢ: yesterday at 10:58 PM

i should get to sleep

but i don’t wanna stop texting you

ynn ᓚᘏᗢ: yesterday at 12:02 AM

goodnight, sung <3 miss you til’ you’re back

Now, as he eyes you with a boyish, lovesick gaze, watching you doodle your stupid little drawings as you await your assignment, he finds himself praying for the courage to come up to you after class.

Professor Hwang calls your name next, something he only realizes at the fitting similarity of your nickname and the way your pen meets the table in alert to being called on, head lifting up and eyes blinking expectantly.

“Your partner will be,”

Jisung holds his breath, chanting in his head ‘please, oh, please let it be me,’

“Lee Chan.”

Wishful thinking never got anyone anywhere, then. He ignores the way his heart sinks into the pits of his stomach, unable to help but observe your curious gaze as it looks around the filled seats. For a fleeting moment, you meet his eyes, but he doesn’t react or claim to be Lee Chan who you so evidently are in search of, and so you pass him and keep studying the aisles. After a few seconds, you find no one gazing back, even after you slightly stand to peer above the nearby heads that obscure your view.

“Your constellation is-”

With a cautious raise of your hand, you interrupt Professor Hwang gently, “Excuse me, Professor, but I don’t think my partner is here.”

For a moment, her lazer-like gaze looks like it could light you on fire, a consequence of daring to interrupt her, but it softens only slightly as she realizes the truth in your statement, scanning the room herself and calling out for the missing boy. Upon receiving no call back, she thinks for a moment, then looks back down at her clipboard and crosses something out.

“I did mention attendance was mandatory, didn’t I?” This she mutters to herself, “No matter. Instead, you’ll work with,” she gives the paper another once over, then clicks her pen and speaks, “Park Jisung.”

In an awkward burst of both excitement and confusion, Jisung darts out of his chair. His knee hits his desk with a clang, and his laptop would have gone flying if it wasn’t for his quick hands that catch it before it can fall. The loud ruckus turns several heads in his direction, including Professor Hwang’s and more importantly, yours.

Feeling an awful lot like a deer caught in headlights, Jisung blinks as the two of you make eye-contact, then he takes his seat again, very quickly by the way. “Uh, that’s me,” he announces, heat spreading across his face and eyes darting around, “Sorry.”

Does he feel more sorry to his teacher and classmates for disrupting the classroom, or to himself and you for the absolute fool he has just made of himself? As much as he’d like to tear his gaze away from yours and cast it to the ground in embarrassment, it remains stuck on you, awaiting your impending reaction.

You’re rather unsure how to feel, though given, a little surprised at the commotion. You offer him a small smile through pursed lips, and Jisung nods, willing with all his might for a hole to open in the ground beneath him and swallow him.

“Thank you, Mr. Park, for your remarkably clear confirmation. Your constellation is Gemini.”

You turn in your chair to face the front again, scribbling down his name in the corner of your notebook, as well as the constellation you’d been assigned.

“He’s cute,” Karina comments to you as you look over at her, and you finally let out a small laugh you had been holding in.

“He is. Clumsy,” you snort, “but cute.”

“We both got cute partners. We should meet up at the library later and all get started on the project together,”

You nod enthusiastically, going back to your outline that sits at the ready on your laptop screen and making quick work of labeling the different sections evenly. If it wasn’t so obvious for you to spin around and steal a glance, you might have done so again. You’re certainly tempted to, thinking back to seconds ago and realizing you hadn’t really noticed him the last two classes.

Jisung watches your exchange with his dignity at serious risk. He’s entirely unable to hear or make out what you’re saying to each other, and it makes his pulse pick up and his mind race. He considers many things as he watches the two of you talk: firstly, asking to change his partner, but then realizing that would be an awful idea. Once you knew who he was, how would you ever forgive him for immediately ditching you? Absolutely not. Cowering had gotten him nowhere so far.

Then, he considers switching out of the class himself, and disappearing, never to reveal himself to you—but that wasn’t the right thing to do either. Incapable of checking out of your life so quickly and denying himself the treat that is seeing you three times a week (and now, possibly more), he cans that idea, too.

As Professor Hwang finishes reading off the list of names, he begins planning what he’ll actually say to you, as that conversation is just minutes away. There’s less than a half-hour left of class, which means he has to think hard and fast.

As he busies himself with the grueling task of picking an appropriate and redeeming introduction, he doesn’t hear the new instructions from Professor Hwang, which are to find your partner and begin brainstorming, as well as exchanging schedules to set aside time outside of class to work on the presentation. A shadow falls over his desk and consumes his work space in darkness. When his curiously squinted eyes trail up to find the source, only to land on you, hovering above him with your things clutched in your arms, he grips his seat to keep from jumping out of it for the second time today.

“Is this seat taken?”

So much for having time to figure out how to approach you. His heart does a leap of surprise in his chest in place of his physical body, and he resists the urge to clutch it.

“No.” He replies shortly.

With your unfaltering, kind smile still present on your face, you laugh softly and place your things down, introducing yourself.

“You’re Ji-sun, right?”

“—Sung.” he politely corrects you. When you don’t immediately react, he wonders if you had even heard him. He doesn’t put it past himself to have imagined that he replied to you, between his sweating palms and nervous jittering, and your pretty self sitting just a foot away, he’s barely keeping it together. After a moment that feels infinitely longer than it actually is, you raise your eyebrows slightly, round lips parted to ask your question with a palpable hesitance.

“W-what?”

“Jisung,” he quickly replies, pronouncing the ‘g’ clearly and masking the way his eyes widen with a heavy blink that honestly, may not serve as any better of a guise. He pleads with himself to get his shit together but luckily, you don’t seem to notice.

“Oh, sorry… Sorry, It’s just—nevermind. Hi, Jisung.”

“Hi, Y/N.” He savors the way your name feels on his tongue but keeps his enjoyment brief.

“I hope you don’t mind,” you start, lifting the screen of your laptop to reveal the very same outline you had started working on during your last call with him, “but I already made an outline. If you wanna scrap it and start all over, we can—”

“No, It’s fine, we can use this,” when you give him an unsure look, he smiles reassuringly, “It looks brilliant.”

“Thank you.” There’s a pause that is filled only by you clearing your throat, “Ok, I have a literature class right after this one on Mondays and Wednesdays. The rest of my classes are online, so I’m free at any time, really. I usually like to study at the computer labs in the library, it’s nice and private there and I find it much easier to focus. But if you don’t want to go there, we could always go to the cafe or the square for some fresh air. Oh, and either one of our dorm rooms works fine if you’re okay-”

To experience your presence on a phone call is one thing, but to experience it in real life, with your clear voice so arresting and your silky, smooth lips within reach, is absolutely mesmerizing. He’s fighting the urge to glance down at your mouth, but it’s becoming increasingly harder to sustain eye contact, as lovely as he decides your eyes are. Another thing that is becoming exponentially harder, and more sensitive all the same, is his cock, springing to life with an eagerness to greet you.

There’s a bit of panic that flashes across his features as he senses the strain it’s causing in his pants, and only when you look down at your outline does he dare to sneak a glance down at his own groin where as expected, a noticeable imprint was beginning to develop. In a desperate gesture, he slides his notebook over his lap, suppressing a hiss, and leans forward to pretend to use his own laptop.

“Any of those work for me,”

“Okay, great,” You notice the time and turn back to him. “You can just message me when you’re free.”

“Sure.”

“And here’s my number—” you reach over, sliding the protective notebook from his lap and placing it on your desk, scribbling your number in the corner. Jisung immediately readjusts his hoodie, throwing the hem of it over his boner. Professor Hwang dismisses the class as you pass it back.

“Call me whenever you’re free.” With a spin of your heel, you wave goodbye to him and rejoin Karina, who waits for you at the door with her partner.

Jisung lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding, and looks down at the number you wrote. Beside the digits, written in very neat handwriting, might he add, sat perched on a wobbly branch a little black cat that he recognized from his hours of staring as one of your doodles.

•.¸¸☆*･ﾟ

The time is 4:33PM, and Jisung has drafted over a dozen messages on the iMessage app addressed to your number. None of them have exactly made it to you yet, courtesy of his thumb that keeps pressing backspace and wiping out any trace of a remotely embarrassing text. It’s the next day and no introduction or invitation to meet up seems like it’s good enough to send, though he knows that inevitably, he has to text you first. You left your number behind with the doodle that he has since stuck to the corner of his PC monitor, but you never took down his; so now, the ball is in Jisung’s court, and he knows that if he waits too long, you’d think he was avoiding you or the project altogether.

Realistically, he knows a simple “Hi, it’s Jisung,” will suffice, but he can’t bring himself to send you such an unoriginal and boring message. After pondering for a moment, he then decides the best solution would be to do some research, and then call you with his findings—this way, his interest in the project would be clear, and he knows how important that is to you.

At once, he peels your cum-stained cardigan off of his lap, though not before stealing a glance at the day’s new additions, and places it aside. He tucks his spent dick into his short and turns on his monitor, typing the name of the constellation into Google and investigating nearly every website he could find with any useful information.

In the nicest handwriting he can manage, Jisung bullets a list of all the facts and history he could find on ‘Gemini’ within the hour, including the stars that make up the constellation, the myth behind it, and other relevant statistics. It isn’t until he has filled up an entire page front and back—partially—that he picks up his phone again and makes another attempt at contacting you.

Feeling slightly more confident, he types up his message.

To: 555-111-0205

hi, it’s jisung from astronomy. i did some research and i wanted to show you what i found. let me

know if you’re free to exchange notes. Sent at 5:52 PM.

Jisung rereads over his message for any flaws, though there’s nothing he can do about it now that it’s sent, anyway. After he deems it an okay first message, he takes a breath and moves to put his phone down, but it buzzes in his hand instead.

Incoming call at 5:54 PM From: 555-111-0205

“Hi-”

“Hi! Sorry to just call unannounced but I’m walking to the library with all my stuff and I can’t really text. I was able to book us a computer lab for the next two hours so If you want, we—can you hear me?”

He sits up straighter, “Yeah! Yes, I can hear you,”

“Oh, good, so—wait, hello?” Your voice shifts in volume and proximity, as if you pulled your phone from your ear to check the call screen, then brought it back, “Oh, sorry. I-I thought I had accidentally called someone else… nevermind.” Instantly, Jisung realizes instantly that you must have recognized his voice. It makes sense, seeing as you’re used to hearing it specifically on calls. You seem to show no further suspicion as you continue speaking, though, but perhaps, he should keep talking on the phone with you to a minimum.

“Do you think you can make it? Otherwise I can go work on my own. I saw your text and instantly booked the room. Sorry for not checking in with you first,”

“I’ll meet you there,” He replies quickly, grimacing at the instinctual effort it takes to try and make his voice deeper.

“Okay! Great. I’ll see you there, then.” You hang up, and then your text message comes through with the lab room information just minutes later.

Jisung all but lunges out of his chair and rushes to face himself in the mirror, taking in his reflection. Besides his hair that looks slightly disheveled, he looks alright. He doesn’t want to make you wait long for him, so he quickly grabs his laptop and his notes, shoves them all into his bag, and flies out of his dorm room with the laces of his sneakers left untied.

In the brightly, yellow-lit hallway, Mark and Chenle are popping out of their respective rooms, a basketball clutched under the younger boy’s arm.

“We were just about to come grab you,” Chenle starts, “Let’s play some ball. Jeno’s meeting us at the court,”

“Can’t,” Jisung shakes his head, “I’m going to the library,” he tries to not get offended at the way the two boys snort loudly in disbelief, looking at each other as if they’ve both had the same thought.

“Yeah, right.” Chenle scoffs.

With a blink, Jisung replies meekly, “I’m serious.”

“Since when do you go to the library?” Mark brows pinch and he adds, “It’s the start of term. You’re already studying?”

“Since now, I guess. I have a project for a class so I’m gonna go meet up with my partner at the library, but I’ll catch you guys later.”

“Alright, alright. Oh—remember there’s a party next week at Jaehyun’s frat for syllabus week.”

“Yeah, I’ll be there.” His answer doesn’t seem to fully convince Mark, Chenle, or even himself, but they seem satisfied enough, because they let Jisung go without any more pestering. He flies down the flight of stairs and out the front door of the dormitory.

The cold September air is biting at this time in the evening, feeling particularly cool on the apples of his cheek, which glow from the light layer of sweat that develops during his jog over to the library. It’s a considerable distance away, which is part of the reason why he, in his two years of being a student at the university, has never seriously stepped foot inside of it. Studying in his room is much more convenient, but you seem to like the library, so the twenty-minute-walk there, or in this case, fifteen-minute-jog, will simply have to be adopted as a new way to get in some brief exercise a few times a week.

More than likely, you have already arrived, and Jisung doesn’t want to make you wait too long for him, especially since there’s a two-hour time limit on the room and he intends to spend as much time with you there as he can. He wipes his cheeks with his gray sleeves and climbs up the stairs of the building quickly, swiping his student card at the door and stepping inside.

The ceiling is massively tall, seemingly taller than when he once saw it during freshman orientation, and the endless rows of shelves are filled with books, ranging from thin, colorful novels to thick, leather-bound classics. It’s quieter than he expects it to be, even for a library, and he clearly can hear the pitter patter of his feet as he follows the sign labeled ‘Study Rooms and Computer Labs.’

The guy at the reception desk in this section seems to be a volunteer, his student ID and name tag shining on his shirt. He glances up from his book when Jisung approaches, nodding once. There’s an awkward silence that feels rather loud as Jisung fumbles with his phone, flipping it between his clammy hands as he searches for your message.

“Computer Lab 4C?”

Wordlessly, the boy nods again, then slides over a clip-board with a sign-in sheet clamped to it.

It’s surprising to see how many lab spots are filled up so early into the term, names scribbled along the lines and time-slots. Your name stands out, partly because of your familiar handwriting, but particularly because of the empty line beside it, where he signs in before handing the clip-board back.

“Down the hall, second door on your right.”

It’s Jisung’s turn to bob his head once and the boy looks back down at his book. He makes his way down the hall until he reaches the correctly labeled door. His hand reaches for the handle, but he withdraws it. Should he knock? Or maybe send you a text? Or both?

To: 555-111-0205

hey again. i’m outside :) Sent at 6:18 PM.

The door creaks open from the taps of his knuckles bumping against it, and he peeks his head in timidly, finding you sitting in one of the desk chairs, nearly hidden behind your laptop and a stack of books. You look up over the screen, eyes squinting in a smile.

“Oh, I had left the door open for you,” you stand up, holding out a cup for him, “and I got you coffee… didn’t know how you liked it so I just got you the same thing I order,”

There’s a fluttering in his stomach as he sets his bag down. There’s no chance he can manage to meet your eyes after such a gesture so he casts them to the ground instead, graciously reaching out to receive with both hands the drink you offer him, “You didn’t have to,” he mumbles, “but thank you. I’m sure your order is great,”

“I wanted to! It’s just—I mean, I did drag you out of your room in the cold and on really short notice—A hot coffee was the least I could do,” you shrug, “One of my friends works at the cafe and I was there doing some work for my literature class before I got your message and I figured I’d grab us both something before I headed over here… Sorry, I’m talking too much. Here, sit down.”

He’s not exactly sure what to say, so he takes his seat beside you in silence, but not without a small smile decorating his face. The notes he had taken down to show you are retrieved from his bag, as well as his laptop. There’s a low screech of your chair dragging across the floor, and he turns to find you’ve scooted closer and you're leaning forward with your cheek resting on your palm, eyes intently looking at his research.

“It isn’t much. I’m sure whatever you found is much more substantial, but I couldn’t show up empty handed.” Jisung explains, sliding the paper over to you. As your eyes scan the page, you make a few comments along the lines of ‘Oh, this is a good point,’ or ‘We should mention this.’

You seem to be very carefully reading his work. Meanwhile, he takes advantage of your preoccupation to let his eyes rake over your person.

The first thing he notices is that you’re wearing a different cardigan, and he suddenly remembers your black one is still on his desk, unwashed and covered in his cum. Your hair looks soft, and when you mindlessly swing it over your shoulder, he catches a whiff of your lavender scented hair wash, and it makes him gnaw the inside of his cheek. You’re not quite close enough for him to catch the perfume you’ve decided to wear tonight, though he can vividly picture the gentle florals that linger still on your cardigan. His eyes trail down, and it’s only then that he notices your skirt—or blatantly, the length of your skirt. Your smooth thighs are exposed, full and fleshy and pressed together, and he suddenly wishes they were wrapped around his head.

“Jisung? You okay?”

“I–Yeah, sorry.” It’s clear that you’ve noticed his staring, and he all but rips his eyes away in embarrassment, “I was just wondering if you were cold,” He gestures down at your legs shyly, pretending the content he’d written on the paper was more interesting the sight of your plush thighs.

For a moment he expects some harsh comment or outburst, but you laugh instead, smoothing the material down a bit, “No, not in here, at least. And the walk over was short, so,” His lips are pursed and his cheeks are burning, but you spare him from any further humiliation when you reach across him to turn the page over and quietly gasp, muttering some surprise under your breath at how extensive his work is. “This is really good. We can use pretty much all of it.”

Failing to hide his beaming at your praise, he snaps his head over to you, “You think so?”

“Yeah, I mean—,” The screen of your laptop changes over to a page of notes, “I pretty much wrote down all the same things. I’m actually so relieved, I was worried I might get paired up with someone who wasn’t gonna contribute.”

“Bet you’re glad you didn’t switch out of the class now, huh?”

Distracted in the notes and in the taste of his coffee, he misses your quick, confused glance his way. Smoothly recovering before he notices, you slowly nod and present to him the layout where you had already taken the liberty to assign him his designated parts. Not that he expected anything else; it’s endearing to see his name labeled over specific sections, color-coded in a blue, bolded font. He wastes no time in pulling up the screen of his computer, exchanging emails with you so the two of you can get to work on the shared document.

The time passes quicker than he hopes, and he realizes just how much he likes spending time with you. Talking with you online is one thing, but sitting beside you as you sip your drink and hum mindlessly, fingers typing away or flipping pages in a book? Completely different game. He’s sure that if it wasn’t because he relieved himself earlier today, he might have popped a boner from the simple act of being in your presence.

Every once in a while, you make an occasional comment regarding a point or two you thought was worth mentioning or adding, and he’d oblige, making a note of it and sharing his thoughts here and there. Occasionally, he manages to steal a look at your thighs, which he swears you’re bouncing and squeezing together on purpose, but for the most part he keeps his focus on the task at hand.

Towards the end of the night, there’s a moment where your hands brush his as you point something out on his screen, and Jisung swears he’s never felt more like a teenage boy in his life. He practically flinches at the contact, failing to mask his awkward reaction and pretending he really meant to fix his hair.

Bidding you farewell is possibly the most difficult of the tasks this evening, even more so than pretending he isn’t completely infatuated with and aroused by you for a whole two hours. When you stand from your seat and walk with him out of the study room, and subsequently, out of the library and into the cold, Jisung faces another of his many dilemmas related to you. He’s not sure if he should offer to walk you back to your dorm, or at the very least halfway there. Perhaps, offering you his jacket would be appropriate, since your skirt wasn’t doing much of a job at keeping you warm.

“You live close by?”

“Yeah! Just a 5 minute walk,” you point your index finger, “In that dorm right over there.”

Jisung nods once, then decides to indulge his impulses. “Here,” he slides his hoodie off with a little less coordination than he would’ve liked, holding it out for you to take, “so you aren’t cold.”

He can’t tell if your cheeks are red from the temperature again or from his gesture, but he hopes it’s the latter. The moment you take his sweater, pretty eyes wide in thanks, he sucks in a breath. It’s much chillier now that the sun is gone, and he fights the urge to chatter his teeth when he offers you a lopsided smile.

“T-thank you,” you tie the sleeves around your waist, covering your lap.

“I’ll see you in class?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you nod, flashing him a final grin before you spin on your heel to head home.

The twenty-minute-walk-fifteen-minute-jog back to his room feels eternal. All of his hair is standing on end, but picking up his pace too much means that the icy wind, which has so graciously decided to blow in his direction, would just become harsher. His palms soak up the little warmth on his stomach, tucked under his t-shirt, as he alternates between speed-walking and jogging. The minutes drag on and on until finally, his building comes into view and he breaks into a run.

•.¸¸☆*･ﾟ

The following morning when he walks into his astronomy class, he follows his usual routine of checking for you in your seat and is almost distraught when he finds it to be empty. It’s not like you to miss a class, and he contemplates reaching for his phone to check-in on you. It isn't until he pans his vision over to his own chair that he spots you. You’re accompanied by Karina and her partner, Heesung, taking up the empty seats beside his own.

On your desk sit two coffee cups like the ones from last night, and he pulls his lip between his teeth to hide the grin that fights to break out.

You look up when you spot him, and Karina and Heesung look up, too.

“Hi…”

“Hi! Jisung, right?” Karina extends her hand out and he takes it, nodding to confirm, “I’m Karina and this is Heesung.” He mumbles another small hello to the boy, who acknowledges him before looking back at his computer.

“Good morning,” you greet as he sits, placing his cup on his desk. “You never told me whether you liked it or not, but I figured you’d grow to like it eventually.”

“I-thanks but,”

“I know: Didn’t have to, but I wanted to. So just say thanks, yeah?”

There’s a familiar burning on his cheeks that always seems to make an appearance when you’re around, but he doesn’t bother masking it this time.

“I wanted to ask you if you would be free to study tonight?”

Instantly, he bobs his head up and down, and you book the study room on your computer just moments before Professor Hwang strides inside the classroom, her glasses on the tip of her sharp, pointed nose.

•.¸¸☆*･ﾟ

The frat house where the seniors stay is practically next door to Jisung’s dormitory, which is why when Mark, Chenle, and Jeno come banging on his door on Saturday night, he realizes he can’t use walking so far in the cold as an excuse to stay home. He also can’t use studying as an excuse anymore, since Mark had already caught him leaving the dorm a few times throughout the week to go study with you. That, and he ran into Jeno as he was entering the library just the night before.

“You’ve been studying plenty,” they’d say, or “We told you about the party last week, no way you’re not going.”

Anyway—the point is, he’ll have to endure tonight, despite his wishes to stay close to his PC for the chance that you’d want to hop into a game. He’d prefer to spend the night talking with you, but that’ll just have to wait until tomorrow. With a somber look on his face, he shrugs on a jacket and opens the door for his friends, who practically drag him outside.

Jeno slings his arm over the taller boy’s shoulders as if to prevent him from fleeing, and the four of them climb down the stairs and onto the path toward the frat. If Jisung strains his ears, he can already pick up on the sounds of the party, even from here.

“You think Chaewon will be there?” Mark asks no one in particular, but the boys all respond simultaneously with groans of distaste.

“You dated her three semesters ago, why do you care?” Chenle starts, “isn’t she seeing Jungwoo now, anyway?”

“That’s exactly why I care,” Mark grumbles, foot kicking a rock along the pavement. “He’s one of the RAs. If he’s there—”

“He’s always there,” Chenle interjects, earning a glare.

“—then she’ll be there, too.”

“So, what happened with… what’s her name, Minjeong? Why don’t you hang out with her?”

“Nah,” He turns to Jeno, “She’s sweet and all, but I found out from Giselle that her and Chaewon are friends, so,”

There’s a chorus of understanding, albeit a bit pitiful, “aah’s” and “oh’s” as the building comes into view. A few people are gathered at and around the entrance while others litter the parking lot with phones and solo cups in their hands as they wait for friends. Among them, and Jisung has to do a double take to make sure, he spots Karina, who waves someone down from the direction of the main courtyard. For a moment, he thinks it might be you who appears from between the treeline, but it’s Heesung who jogs over to meet her and he realizes how silly his thought was in the first place.

In the months he’s known you, you’ve never once brought up a party. In retrospect, you don’t seem like the type to like partying at all. He can picture you clearly now, tearing through textbooks or novels for your literature class, or maybe even typing away to him on Discord and asking if he was online.

He isn’t and can’t be tonight, and he’s very sorry about that, for the record.

Maneuvering through the crowd of tipsy college students isn’t too difficult,and neither is their entry. The door is propped open, and Jaehyun, with his signature snapback that he wears backwards on his dark hair, calls them over from the drink bar.

“First problem I see here,” he starts, “is that none of you have a cup in your hand.”

“We’ve barely made it through the door, man,” Mark laughs, clapping up Jaehyun and moving aside so he can greet the rest of the guys.

“That’s no excuse, you should be sipping on something by now.” He waves his arm, “Take a look around, boys! This is what life is gonna look like for you guys next year—and the year after for you, Jisung.”

Jisung gives a curt, disinterested nod amidst being handed some fruity, fizzy, white claw resemblant that probably wouldn’t taste much different from an Alka-Seltzer. He cracks it open upon being prompted to by Jaehyun, who initiates a “cheers” between the friend group. The moment the alcohol touches his tongue, Jisung grimaces, taking a few long chugs in hopes that the effect will kick in quicker and make the long night that awaits him a little less long.

“Do you know if Chaewon is here?”

Wordlessly, Jaehyun fixes his cap and points a single finger toward the couch, where Chaewon sits besides Jungwoo, leaning in to hear him over the music and giggling at whatever he says in her ear. The boys look over at the couple, then quickly glance back at Mark, whose face falls despite the fact that he knew to expect this.

“Tough,” Jeno gives him a pat on the shoulder, “Hope you have better luck the rest of the night. I’ve gotta bounce,”

“Yo, what do you mean bounce?”

He gestures toward a girl standing near the beer pong table, who looks slightly familiar to Jisung, though he can’t quite put his finger on it, and smirks, “She smiled at me the moment we walked in. I’ll see you later, but I honestly hope I don’t.”

The realization that his friends, in search of their hook-ups for the night, would eventually be abandoning him one-by-one kicks in just then, inviting Jisung to down the rest of his bubbly drink in one go.

Mark rolls his eyes, “You ever notice Jeno is always the first one to get a girl?” His comment earns a few hums of agreement.

“I’m gonna go find Jaemin,” with his phone clutched in his hand, Chenle turns towards the door, “he just texted me he’s outside with Sullyoon and her friend.”

“Wait, Jaemin is—he’s setting you up and not me?” Chenle only shrugs at Mark’s question, replying with a blunt and concise “yeah.”

“I’m not a dog like Jeno though, so I’ll definitely see you guys later.”

As if noticing he was facing the same unfortunate fate as Jisung, Mark turns to the youngest boy with a fearful look in his eyes. Jisung only shakes his head and takes a quick look around, “I’m not planning on hooking up with anyone here, so…” At this, the boy sighs in relief, handing Jisung another drink in solidarity. The two lean against the counter as Jaehyun looks between them, snorting.

“Mark, there’s so many girls here.”

“I know, but—”

“But Chaewon.”

Mark nods, echoing Jaehyun in a quiet, maybe even embarrassed voice, “But Chaewon…”

“Don’t worry, I get it,” he adds sympathetically, “I’m caught up on my ex, too.”

“Uh…” there’s a pause. “Which one?” This comment lands Mark a shove, playful, for the most part. He rubs his shoulder and hisses while Jaehyun, on the other hand, sloshes around the little liquid left in his cup and grabs the closest bottle of alcohol to him, along with whichever random mixer he finds first.

“The only one that really mattered.” He tilts his newly filled red cup back to drink from it, but his eyes peek over the rim and he pulls it from his lips to sigh out, “Speak of the devil and she doth come,” he raises his brows and announces, “there she is now.”

Following his line of sight, Jisung trails his vision toward the front entrance and at once, the sight makes each and every one of his limbs seize up. There’s a twisting and turning in his stomach that almost invites the seltzer he chugged to make a reappearance, and he’s pretty sure the color has drained from his face as he watches you walk inside the frat house behind Karina and Heesung.

So many things go through his mind in such a short amount of time that he fears he may have had some sort of out-of-body experience or hallucination episode; it wasn't really you he was seeing, it couldn’t be. The way your skirt clings to your hips makes him grip his cup tighter within his sweating palm, and the lacy, corset top you’ve decided to wear, which shows off a tasteful bit of cleavage, causes him to swallow down the saliva that had pooled on his tongue.

It was a more provocative outfit than he’d even seen you wear, and if it wasn’t for the fact that Jaehyun opened his mouth to speak, he’s sure he would’ve instantly become bricked up.

“And of course she’s wearing that shirt…” Jaehyun fixes his cap for the second time tonight and straightens out his shirt, “Alright, wish me luck.”

It’s not like Jisung would have interjected anyway, he didn’t really have the grounds to, but he couldn’t even entertain the thought before Jaehyun headed in your direction with decisive confidence. Part of him hopes he was referring to someone else as his ex, perhaps even Karina, since there isn’t another girl in your immediate vicinity besides her, but his bit of hope is crushed as he spots Heesung’s hand intertwined in hers. Surely, Jaehyun wouldn’t be coming up to her if she showed up with someone to his party. It leaves him to reach his regretful conclusion just as his friend and you make eye contact, recognition flashing across your features, along with something else.

Unable to torture himself further by watching your exchange, Jisung tears his eyes away and grabs another drink to make this very, very long night ahead of him somewhat bearable. He turns to Mark, who he didn’t even realize had been talking this whole time, but the loud music and the cloudiness in his mind muffle out his speech.

“—I mean this just sucks! I guess we still have each other, maybe we can find some girls who—”

When did you even date Jaehyun? You hadn’t mentioned him once in the months he had known you. And also, why did you date Jaehyun? Not that there was anything wrong with him, other than his habit of cycling through girls every semester. Mark’s “Which one?” comment had some truth to it, but he would have never expected you to have been on Jaehyun’s roster. It takes him a second to remember that Jaehyun is still his friend, but even then, he can’t fight the bitterness that settles in his bones. What did he mean when he said that you were the only one that mattered? How significant was your relationship with him? There’s too many questions circling his mind, and it isn’t until he downs the fifth drink that they start to blur.

Currently, he’s passing the time conversing with Mark and following him around the party, but more importantly, avoiding you in fear he’ll steal a glance and you’ll be locking lips with your ex. He spots Jaehyun by the bathroom a bit into the night, but thankfully, you aren’t near him. It’s in the middle of a beer pong game with Mark when he dares to glance around in search of you.

First, he spots Karina and Heesung, making out on the couch where Chaewon and Jungwoo once sat. You aren’t near them. Then he spots Jaemin and Chenle dancing with the girls they had met up with, but you aren’t dancing, either.

He’s relieved to find you aren’t with Jaehyun when he spots him, finding instead that his friend is flirting it up with a different girl who is certainly not you. The sight completely pisses him off, and somehow makes him feel immense relief simultaneously. Right around this time, he decides he’s had more than enough of the party. You aren’t here anymore, and Jaehyun’s face is making him fucking sick. Mark is slurring his speech enough that he wouldn’t notice if Jisung just slipped, so he does just that, though he does make sure to mention to Chenle that he’s leaving on his way out so he can keep an eye on Mark.

Outside, the cold is unbearable. The previously crowded lot is empty for the most part, except for a few people puffing clouds of smoke into the air by a bench. Not even the alcohol in his system is enough to warm him up, so he can’t even imagine how a joint could be worth sitting outside for.

The only other person sitting outside is squatted down by the curb with their knees curled up to their chest. As the autumn leaves crack under Jisung’s feet, they turn their head around.

“I told you I don’t wanna—Jisung?”

Your big eyes widen in his direction, and you shoot up from the ground. Jisung’s brow lowers in concern and he notices the only thing you have to cover up is a flimsy cardigan. You and your damn, flimsy cardigans.

“What are you doing out here?”

“Sorry for snapping I—sorry,” you shiver involuntarily as a gust of wind blows through, wrapping your arms around yourself, “I thought you were someone else.”

There isn't a sliver of hesitation before Jisung shrugs off his leather jacket and begins to wrap it around you, grumbling, “Are you crazy? You must be freezing,”

“I’m fine—“

“This should help,”

“But- Jisung, how many of your jackets am I gonna take—”

“As many as you need to.” Your lack of a response makes him look back up to meet your eyes, round and much warmer than the rest of you was right now. He clears his throat, guiding your sleeves into the arms of the jacket as he jokes, “or until you bring your own.”

You smile, muttering a small ‘thank you’ as the warmth engulfs you, along with the smell of him and some cheap cologne only a college student would buy. He’s tugging the collar closer to cover up your exposed neck and chest, eyes flickering down at your bare skin despite being well aware that you’re looking. Where this newfound boldness came from tonight, he doesn’t know. What he does know is that his boldness is always rather short-lived when it comes to you, and tends to appear and disappear like random spurts of energy—he’ll take advantage of it this once. Especially now that he knows you’re Jaehyun’s ex and the most he might even get to do is gawk at you, he intends to make it worth it.

“You must be freezing now, though,” you start, “should we go somewhere warm?”

“How about the library?”

You laugh, looking at him in disbelief, “The library isn’t open at this time, much less on the weekend,” “Right…”

“Wanna go to mine?” Your suggestion makes his breath hitch for a second, but he manages to respond with decent clarity.

“You live by the library, though. That’s like a half-hour walk. I don’t think you’ll make it that far without turning into an icicle,”

“Well, I don’t really wanna go back inside…” he knows why, so he offers something else.

“My dorm is five minutes away. We could go there if you want, b-but if you’d rather go somewhere else—”

“Okay,” you nod eagerly, “let’s go.”

As Jisung leads the way, speed-walking to beat the chill that spreads through his newly uncovered limbs, he turns his face to you, watching as you tuck the lower half of your face into his coat.

“I don’t know if you want to work on the project or—”

“God no,” you huff, rolling your eyes, “I’m not that much of a buzzkill, dude.” You jog a little to catch up to his longer strides, “Besides, I have like three shots of Pink Whitney in me,”

“Foul.”

“I know. Can’t think about a project right now,”

“I’ve had a bit to drink, too.” he admits.

“I can tell. You’re stumbling.”

He snaps his head around, down to his feet, then back to you. “What? Am I?”

There’s a small, stupid smile on your face as you shake your head. “No.”

He can’t pinpoint why this banter with you is so easy, why it feels so right. Or perhaps, he can, but regardless, his heart leaps in his chest as he scoffs, not fighting the shit-eating grin that spreads on his frosted cheeks.

"It’s that building right over there,” he points.

“You weren’t kidding when you said it was close,”

The two of you climb the stairs and he opens the main door for you, watching you sigh out in bliss as you step into the warmth of the hall. You bounce around in a cute way that once more tugs at his heart-strings, still looking all puffed up and adorable in his jacket that entirely engulfs your frame. He leads you up another flight of stairs and onto the floor his room is at, and once the two of you stop in front of his door, he pats his jean pockets.

“Oh my uh- my keys are in the pocket of the jacket.”

You mimic his recent action, patting around until you find his keys, holding them out for him to take.

Somewhat awkwardly, he fumbles with them until he manages to fit it into the lock, opening the door with one hand. He gestures for you to enter his room with a small shrug, “Make yourself at home.”

As you step inside, Jisung makes it a point to quietly thank whatever higher power compelled him to make his bed this afternoon. The rest of his room wasn’t perfectly organized by any means, but at the very least, his bed, which you now sat at the foot of with your legs bouncing, was neatly made.

“You have your own room?” You mutter in surprise as you look around the small space and notice the lack of a second bed. The tall boy beside you just shrugs again, toeing off his shoes in the corner as he pulls the door closed.

“Yeah, uh… I’m one of the RAs for the sophomore class.”

“Wow,” you sigh, “I wish! I mean, I love sharing a room with Karina, but it’s nice to have space for myself sometimes.”

“That’s why you’re always at the library?”

You nod, sliding your palms across his duvet, “It’s nice and quiet,” your fingers move to grip and release the material, and he blinks harshly to erase the sight of that from his mind before it causes him to spiral. It didn’t prove to be very useful, though, because your still-exposed thighs move and press together, just as they did at the library, and his dick gives a little twitch in response.

“I’ll get you some clothes to change into, that way you’re more comfortable.” he decides, more for his sake than yours. You don’t answer, continuing to look around, taking in the details of his computer that flashes in a bunch of different colors.

“You know I gave up extra storage in my bedside table to be able to keep my PC? I let Karina take it to her side of the room so I’d have space for my setup.”

Rummaging through his drawers, he pipes up, “you game?” as if it wasn’t something he already knew about you.

“I love it. I stayed here for most of the summer just because I had my computer here.”

Jisung picks out a pair of sweats for you and one for himself, along with a t-shirt he knows he recently washed, then he turns, handing it over to you. “I’ll change in the bathroom down the hall and then wait outside. You can crack the door open when you’re done,”

“Thank you, Jisung.”

There’s a gentle sincerity in your tone that makes him wanna say “anything for you,” but he settles for pursing his lips instead, leaving to let you change before he can embarrass himself with any baseless comment you wouldn’t really get. The effect of the drinks still hadn’t completely faded, and he fears he’s capable of saying just about any of his stupid thoughts out loud right about now.

You weren’t completely sober either, not by any means. The trashy vodka your ex offered you in an attempt to reconcile was as bitter as the end of your relationship with him, and it was flowing through your veins and giving you that light-headed buzz. You stand up and slip off your boots and Jisung’s jacket, along with your skirt. Your top requires a bit more precision, the lace getting twisted and tangled in your uncoordinated fingers. There’s little huffs and puffs of frustration that leave your lips during your struggle, and you’d almost consider asking for help if it wasn’t completely inappropriate.

Finally, though, you manage to get it off and slip on the change of clothes Jisung has so graciously provided. They’re warm and they smell good, and they’re much more comfortable than your outfit which is now folded on Jisung’s gaming chair, alongside your purse.

When you look up in admiration of his impressive keyboard, which looks to be custom made, and your eyes trail up to his monitor, you notice something on the corner of the screen. The mindless doodle you had drawn beside your phone number that day in class had been very carefully cut out and stuck onto his screen with tape.

“You okay?”

His voice calls from outside, quietly as if not to disturb you even though it’s you who is occupying his room.

“Yeah, I’m almost done!”

“I thought that she was gonna assign them on Friday?”

Sung had asked you that on call, in regards to the constellation project you mentioned you wanted to start working on. Not Jisung, Sung. Sung, who is not in your astronomy class and would have had no way of knowing when or even what your professor would be assigning.

“You’re Ji-sun, right?”

“—Sung.”

The nickname sounded very right coming from his lips, from his voice. You never gave his nickname too much thought, because truly, Sung could just be a display name. And if it is his real name, it could stand for anything: Sungmin, Sungwoo, Daesung, Ilsung, Jaesung… Jisung.

And then, you recall the time you spoke on the phone—specifically, the time you had to do a double take at your screen to make sure you hadn’t actually called Sung. It was the first time you had spoken to Jisung on the phone, and it’s the only way you had even spoken to Sung… something about it seemed so, so strangely familiar.

Could it be…

“Alright, I’m done!” Your announcement comes after the realization that he’s been waiting outside for a few minutes already.

“Coming in…” He warns, eyes still cast to the ground in case you weren’t decent. They slowly make their way up, and something flashes across his features at the sight of you. You try to ignore it, still preoccupied by your growing suspicions. His computer is on… meaning…

“Let me let Karina know I left… I kinda just walked out on her.”

Jisung nods and takes a cautious seat on his bed a few feet away from you.

As you open the discord app on your phone, you scroll to the top to find his contact and type out a simple Hi, clicking send with your heart beating faster than usual. It’s an impulsive act, but you can’t help yourself. If there’s even a chance…

Instantly, his screen lights up and through his headphones you hear the familiar chime of the notification coming in.

“I knew it! I fucking knew it!”

If it’s possible, Jisung’s face grows even paler than it already was naturally, and even more gloom than it appeared earlier in the night when he identified you as Jaehyun’s ex. All of his features are alert and in shock, watching as you spin around to face him.

“Sung? Right? That’s you?”

He’s struggling to read your expression, and it’s beyond obvious. The only change in his demeanor is the now tensed up shoulders and the redness that takes over the white on his cheeks.

“I—” Are you mad? Should he apologize?

“Did you know all this time? That it was me, I mean?”

He nods slowly, unable to find the appropriate words to say.

Two things happen just then. First, your hand smacks his arm, hard. “You fucking idiot!” and Second, you topple into his arms, hugging him. Initially, his hands hesitate to wrap around you, hovering above your waist as you squeeze his neck.

“You’re not mad?” He asks shyly. You shake your head against him, then lift off with your hands on his shoulders to take a real good look at his face.

“No! I’m so glad, I thought I was going crazy. Why didn’t you tell me?”

He shrugs again, a gesture he seems to do a lot around you.

“Since when did you know it was me?”

“Since I heard you speak on the very first day in class. I recognized your voice.”

Your eyes soften at this small confession, and you look back towards his desk, “So, this is where you were this whole time while we played? This close? A twenty-minute walk away?” You shoot up from the bed and cross the small distance to the desk, swiping an index finger along the surface, then his mouse, then his keyboard, and all of his other equipment. Your eyes are beaming, looking around and familiarizing yourself with his things. All the things you wondered about him are now laid out in front of you, and it’s exhilarating.

“I was so excited when I found out,”

“You should’ve told me,” you repeat, still taking in his pictures and personal items, your profound curiosity surfacing within you.

“I was worried about making a good first impression, you’re…”

“I’m…?” you press, turning to him for a moment.

“You’re really pretty in person.”

In that moment when you turn away to hide your blush, with the words “you’re really cute in person, too” ready to spill from your tongue in a sweet and shy whisper, a small black pile on the corner of his dresser catches your eye.

“What’s that—”

“Oh nothing! It’s just—”

“Is that my cardigan?”

Forget distraught, forget embarrassed, forget every possible synonym for the word humiliation. Not a single one would do what he’s feeling in this moment even a sliver of justice. Jisung is convinced his soul has left his body, that he’s passed on or that the ground has swallowed him whole. In fact, he’d prefer it that way. He has never felt more panic in his life as you quickly approach the cum-stained cardigan that he took from you, that he pleasured himself with countless times, that he still hasn’t washed…

“You dropped it in class, and I-I meant to give it back to you, you know, a-after I washed it, but then—”

As you turn the material over in your hands, taking note of and examining the stains, Jisungs breath completely cuts off. You spin slowly on your heel, facing him. There’s an unreadable expression on your face, and it takes every bit of the little pride he has left to not squeeze his eyes shut.

“Are these—” His voice is no more than a sputtering squeak, “I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry. Fuck, you must think—”

“Jisung.”

“I didn’t mean to keep it for so long, or-or at all, really, it’s just—”

“Jisung.” He’s pretty sure you can hear him gulp. “Were you using my cardigan to get off?”

“I-”

“Were you?” You ask sternly.

He sucks in a breath, unable to look at you any longer as the faintest of yeses leaves his pouty lips.

There’s a moment of silence. A terribly long, excruciating moment of silence where Jisung can think of no way to make this up to you. He’s beyond ashamed, palms clasped together and sweating, face red with horror, inside of his cheek clamped tightly between his teeth, the whole nine miles. So much for mulling over how he’d reveal who he was to you, and so much for all the overthinking he did, all the times he planned out exactly what to say to you and how. Now, it’s all coming to an end because of this damned cardigan. He should’ve just washed it and given it back to you after the first time—no, he shouldn’t have used it at all. His mind is filled with thoughts of everything and nothing at the same time, and he’s already beginning to mourn the loss of your friendship when you say the unthinkable:

“Show me.”

*. * ·

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