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angelicyoongie · 4 months

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lovesick (XIV)

— pairing: yandere ot7 x (f) reader — word count: 5.8k — warnings: yandere, obsessive behaviour, other content that may be triggering. — summary: You dreamed of the day you would get your very own soulmark. Though, you didn’t expect to wake up to a searing hurt in your arm, the phantom pain of your shoulder being dislocated and your forearm fractured. As if dealing with the worst possible soulmark ever wasn’t bad enough, you also have to come to terms with the fact that you’re being stalked. When the letters and gifts you receive begin to escalate and the police offers no help, you have no other option than to figure out who’s behind it yourself – and hopefully before it’s too late.

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"Darling."

You glance up at Namjoon, abandoning the half-finished scarf you've been slowly unraveling for the last hour. He stands at the foot of the couch, glasses slipping down his nose as he struggles to hold on to all of the books piled up in his arms.

You jump out of your seat to help him, grabbing half of the stack to place it on the table next to you with a small huff.

The books are thick and heavy, and you doubt that any of the volumes are under five hundred pages. Most of the spines in Namjoon's arms look old and weathered, like their proper place should be under a glass case in a museum instead of a library.

Namjoon breathes out a sigh of relief as he carefully deposits the rest of the books next to the others. He nudges his glasses back in place with a small chuckle as he says, "I must be getting out of shape, I don't remember them being this heavy."

"I doubt it," You mutter, sneaking a quick look at how visible Namjoon's muscles are even under his thick sweater.

"What did you say, darling? I didn't catch it," Namjoon gives you a curious look.

"Ah, it's nothing!" You flash him a quick smile, swiftly shifting your focus back to the table.

Namjoon furrows his brows at the way you suddenly avert your eyes, the tops of your cheeks growing warm. He glances down at his sweater, worried that he might have missed a stain. There's nothing that looks out of the ordinary, but Namjoon still dusts off the bright red wool for good measure, a little perplexed by the strange look you were giving him.

"I brought the books you asked for, this is everything we had on soulmates and soulbonds," Namjoon clears his throat. He steps closer to the table, picking up a few of the books before he starts sorting them into smaller piles, "These are the most recent publications and the ones furthest to the right are the oldest ones. I found a couple down in the archives too. They're not supposed to leave the library since they're so old but, well, I'm sure no one would mind a little exception. I know you'll take good care of them."

"I'll be careful," You nod, brushing a finger over the spine of what looks to be the oldest book.

"Good," Namjoon flashes you a warm grin, his dimples on show. He reaches out to stroke your hair, tucking a lock behind your ears as he gently says, "I hope they can be a nice distraction for you. I know you've been feeling down since you talked to Heejun."

"Thank you," You give him a tight smile, refusing to comment on it. You know it annoys them that you're not willing to open up more, that you don't want to talk about your emotions, but what's the use in bringing up something they won't understand? They are the ones making you sad, not Heejun.

It's been a week since you last spoke to him, and your heart still aches from it. Hearing his voice felt like splitting open a barely closed wound. You can't shake off how mournful he sounded when he said his goodbyes, like he knew you wouldn't be able to contact him again for quite some time. It has left you feeling unsettled. And, since your days are filled with nothing; you have more than enough time to think, think, and think some more. You sometimes wonder if cabin fever will take you out before the soulbond does.

It feels like time barely passes here and yet you know that the sun rises and sets, that the minutes are steadily ticking away even if you feel frozen. Using your phone finally gave you an opportunity to pinpoint the date. The day you talked to Heejun was December 11th and now that one week has already passed, there are only seven days left until Christmas. It's odd to think back to how you celebrated the holidays last year, and how different your life was then. You knew of your soulmates but you didn't know them. You were scared but you were free.

You shake yourself loose from your thoughts as Namjoon presses a soft kiss to your cheek, catching the tail end of his sentence as he says, "– for you, just call for me if you need any help, darling."

"Great, I'll do that," You say. Namjoon doesn't seem to have noticed your wavering attention.

You can only assume he mentioned he would leave you to read in peace, as he gives you another warm smile before he straightens up and exits the room. You hear him greet Hoseok in the kitchen, their voices just distant enough that you can't pick up on what they're talking about.

Taking a deep breath, you try to empty your mind to focus on the task at hand. You did ask Namjoon for these books for a reason, so you must utilize the time you have. Namjoon seems to have borrowed the entire section the library has on soulmate-related books, so it's only a matter of time before someone comes asking for them.

You decide you might as well begin with the newer books first, they should hopefully contain all the information and studies that have been done on the bond over the last three hundred years or so. You grab one that looks somewhat familiar to you, a newer edition of a volume you're sure you did a paper on back in middle school. Skimming through it, you quickly skip to the section that talks more in-depth about bonds. You already know all of the basics, the history, the tale of the first two soulmates – it's practically ingrained into you from birth. What you need is something different, something uncommon in the sea of familiar facts.

You're disappointed when you realize that the book barely touches upon soulbonds with more than two people. Having two or more soulmates isn't that uncommon but it's also not the norm. The most you've ever heard of was a group of five soulmates and they were treated as a media spectacle from the moment they announced it. You remember the headlines reading along the lines of rare, strange and unprecedented – so you can only imagine that if there are more groups like them out there, they're keeping quiet about it. The soulmates that did choose to step forward about their bond were insistent that it was the same as a bond between two people; they all loved each other and their connection was equally as strong for every soulmate. Their situation was clearly very different from yours.

You close the book with a huff, moving on to the next one. There's a brief mention that soulbonds with more than two soulmates require a bit more work, but that's all. It's barely enough to fill a sentence. Your frustration only grows with every book you look through, it's just the same information regurgitated over and over. You know there's something out there though, the story Namjoon told you shortly after you had woken up at the cabin must come from somewhere. Namjoon might have found the excerpt online but you do recall that it was supposedly from an old and rather obscure book.

Your gaze drifts over to the book that looks like it's falling apart at the seams, the etching on the cover so old that the letters have been lost to time. You find yourself holding your breath as you gingerly pick it out of the pile, wincing as you feel the pages shift within the book. There's a small note attached to the front of it, one that reads: NO PUBLIC ACCESS. For a split second it makes you pause, thoughts that it might actually be a valuable book crossing your mind, but you quickly disregard them. If this book was important, it would've never been left to rot in the library archive.

Carefully placing it in front of you, you open the front of the book slowly, mindful to prop it up with your hand so that you're not causing too much tension to the spine. The insides look as tattered as the front, the title page barely legible. The font is cursive and swooping, the letters blending together so well it's hard to make out much of it. In the end, all you can decipher is that it says soulmates and that it was written in the year 1783.

You turn the page, squinting at the faded words. The layout of it reminds you more of a diary than a book, with random dates placed before every entry. They explain how the author decided to travel around to gather stories about soulmates, soulbonds and the people they met along the way. After some twenty-odd pages, you finally come across what looks to be a table of contents. Tracing your finger down the side, you halt as you make out the words nucleus bonds.

Bingo.

You feel your pulse kick up a beat as you flip to the correct page. The title reads 'Highly unusual cases of soulbonds and soulmates' and you can tell from the first sentence that this must be the excerpt Namjoon had found online.

It describes just what Namjoon talked about; that while there's always a risk of one soulmate feeling the bond more intensely than the other, the probability of it happening is heightened the bigger the bond is. Skewed bonds are typically seen in groups of four or more soulmates, as it is likely that one soulmate in particular becomes the nucleus of the bond – the center that holds it all together. The book goes on to mention examples, old cases of nucleus bonds you've never heard of. They seem more like fables than true stories, all of them more fantastical than the last, but it does seem that Namjoon was right. In the olden days, nucleus bonds were viewed as a gift bestowed upon them from the heavens. That the ones that found themselves experiencing it were special – powerful.

"What a fucking joke," You sigh.

The only thing this bond has made you feel is helpless.

There's a small paragraph at the end of the page, one you suspect wasn't included on the digital scan Namjoon found.

While powerful, nucleus bonds can quickly go awry if the proper precautions are not taken to ensure the bond's well-being. For ill effects of the bond, please see the entry on Lovesickness.

You feel your mouth go dry, a heavy pit settling in your stomach. This must be it. You can't help the slight tremble to your fingers as you flip to the correct page, unease and excitement blending into a confusing feeling. You desperately want to know what's going on, if there's something that's causing the boys to act the way that they are, but the title worries you. Not all illnesses can be cured. You've survived on the small hope that you might be able to help them but if that gets taken away, what will you have left?

You chew on the inside of your cheek, nervous, as you land on the right entry.

// Lovesickness Lovesickness, or soul sickness, occurs when the bond between two or more soulmates is neglected. This illness has only been recorded in bonds with a nucleus soulmate and is thus regarded as a prominent ill effect. While skewed bonds may occur in any soulbond, it is even more likely to do so in instances where one soulmate is viewed as the nucleus. It is a dangerous soulbond, as it makes the other soulmates unstable and there is an especially high risk that they will crave closeness with the nucleus to make up for the weakened connection to the rest of their soul-group. The other soulmates or "the outsiders", are known to grow irrational, obsessive, angry, highly emotional, and in some extreme cases, they can even be influenced by other outsiders' emotions despite their weakened bond. After first contact is made, it is imperative that the affected soulmates spend time together to minimize the risk of soul sickness. Failing to do so will have grave consequences. //

"Oh gods," You whisper, staring at the book in mild horror.

If what the book is saying is correct, then that means that everything that has happened over the last year isn't completely their fault.

The soulbond must have started slowly poisoning their minds ever since they met years ago. They didn't even know they were soulmates back then, not until that night in Hoseok's shop, so you can't imagine they have been able to nurture the bond properly. Their connection was so weak they probably mistook it as simply wanting to become friends and even though you know they're all close, you also know that their schedules are so conflicting that it's impossible for all of them to hang out as much as they should have. The bond was practically doomed even before they met you.

It makes sense that they all came together before you did, that perhaps there was a part of them that couldn't seek the nucleus out before they had collected the rest of the group. The sickness must've become even worse once they did find you – festering and growing stronger the longer they tried to stay away. You wonder if it was the bond that made them keep their distance back then. If their souls recognized that your connection to them was weaker than it was supposed to be, maybe that's part of what made them so scared to approach you. Regardless, it had likely reached a critical point when they decided to kidnap you, their souls so affected, so warped, by the illness that they had no other choice.

All of this – everything that has happened – has been out of their control. How were they supposed to fight an illness they didn't know they had?

You cover your face with both hands, muffling your choked breaths. You feel lost in a way you haven't before. Their actions are still not excused, you can't find it in yourself to forgive them for all the hurt and trauma they've caused you. But you can understand why they ended up going down the path they did now, because, well, it turns out they didn't have much of a choice at all.

There's no right answer here and you're finding yourself at a loss of what to do. You doubt that telling them about it will change anything, not when they're this far gone already. They'll probably just look at it as you trying to distance yourself from them again.

You drag your fingers down your face with a low groan, glancing down at the book. The entry on lovesickness doesn't go past the page and you can't find any additional information that describes what you should do if something like this has already occurred; just that it's important to make sure that the bond doesn't get messed up in the first place. With the book being so old, well over two hundred years, it's not like you can reach out to the author for help either. But there must be something you can do.

Thrumming your fingers against the table, you shift your focus towards the kitchen, to the soft sound of Hoseok's laughter. Now that you think about it, the boys have become more trusting, more mellow, over the past months. They have started leaving you alone for longer periods of time and they have calmed down significantly compared to when they first brought you here. Perhaps.. If your distance is what worsened their illness, maybe this – being close – is what is going to cure them? You doubt it can ever bring them back to normal, whatever that may be, but it could help stabilize them.

If you try, really try, to accept them for what they are now and return their affection, it might help the bond settle faster.

You give yourself a weak nod, closing the book as you push yourself up on your feet. You don't like thinking about affection, love, as just a means to an end, but it's not like the situation you're in is normal. You're willing to do anything if it'll get you out of here, and in the end, you're doing this to help both yourself and them. You might have tried to deny it this whole time but it doesn't change the fact that they're still your soulmates. As awful as it is, you have some responsibility over them too.

You ignore the queasy feeling lingering in your stomach, shaking out your limbs before you muster up the most genuine smile you can. You just have to try.

"Hey guys," You call out, crossing the common room to go join Hoseok and Namjoon in the kitchen, "What are you up to?"

Soft sunlight streams in through the windows, warming your feet just so as you stand in one of the illuminated patches on the floor. There's activity from every corner of the cabin, Sundays being the only day all of them are able to gather at the same time. It's been four days since you realized just how messed up your bond is and you've been trying your best to stop pushing the boys away since then.

You look wistfully out of the window, the white snow sparkling under the sun. You haven't really been much outside since you tried to escape, their trust in you is too broken to allow you to. The most you've done is stand on top of the stairs with the door open; Namjoon waiting a few steps down in case you should be stupid enough to try to run, and Seokjin behind you, holding on to one of your hands.

You miss being able to walk around and move your body more, and you truly are beginning to go a little stir-crazy.

"Hi baby," Jimin croons as he wraps his arms around your waist, gluing himself against your back, "What are you thinking about?"

You lean into Jimin's hold, your heart quickening at the kiss he plants at the back of your neck. You let out a small sigh as you confess, "I'm bored."

"Bored, hm? Anything in particular you'd like to do? I can think of a few ways to waste time."

You can hear the smirk in Jimin's voice, heat rising to your cheeks as you remember the night you spent together.

"Actually–" You pause, bracing yourself for a negative reaction before you say, "I'd like to do something outside today. The weather is so nice."

Jimin's arms tighten around you like a snake, so tense you worry they might pop right off his body. "Outside?" He echoes.

"What's outside?" Hoseok seems to have abandoned whatever he was doing earlier in his room, his sudden appearance startling you slightly.

"Y/n was just telling me that she's bored and that she wants to do something. Outside," Jimin fills him in, voice void of any emotion.

Hoseok is silent as he walks across the room, meeting your gaze with raised eyebrows as you turn to look at him. He doesn't look away until he's standing next to you and Jimin, his eyes briefly flickering down to the death grip the younger has on you before they fly back to your face. "Why would you want that, sunshine?"

It's not an immediate no – so you jump on the chance to play it up a little and use it to your advantage.

"I just want to hang out with you guys outside, maybe do something fun. I just thought it would be nice to do something, you know, together," You pout. The sparkling snow in your peripheral gives you an idea. "Maybe a snowball fight?"

Hoseok shares a look with Jimin over your shoulder, one that's long enough to almost make you nervous. Jimin eventually relaxes when Hoseok gives him a nod. It's hard to tell what's going through his head but surprisingly, Hoseok doesn't seem too put off by the idea. Maybe they really have begun to trust you again, or maybe this is just another test. Either way, it's something you can make use of.

Hoseok reaches out to touch your cheek, his lips curving into a heart-shaped smile as he says, "That sounds like a good idea, sunshine. I'll go ask the others if they want to join."

"I call dibs on being on Y/n's team," Jimin says, smug.

Hoseok's smile grows a little more dangerous as he moves his attention back to Jimin, "We'll see about that, Jiminie."

You grunt as Seokjin tugs firmly on your jacket, sending you a step forward.

You're wearing so many layers you can barely move, all of them too big. The boys took great joy in dressing you up in their winter clothes, as nothing you have at the cabin is fit for withstanding the cold. You're glad you don't have to freeze, but the fact that everything you're wearing is too big doesn't evade you. They must still be worried about you trying to run away if they're trying to impede your ability to move.

You know not to make a fuss about it though, it's better to just go along with their whims when it's something so harmless.

"Watch your chin," Seokjin warns before he drags the zipper up, sealing you in.

"Thanks," You say, nodding for good measure. Your voice is so muffled behind Jungkook's thick scarf that you can barely hear your own voice.

Seokjin flashes you a grin, gesturing to the door. "Go on then, sweetheart. You're going to overheat if you stay inside here for too long."

You waddle over to the door, practically dragging your feet with how heavy the boots you borrowed from Namjoon are. You can hear the others talking outside, only Seokjin left behind as he volunteered to help you get everything on. You're admittedly glad you didn't just brush him off because there's no way you would be able to bend down with how thick your jacket and snow pants are.

A burst of biting cold air hits you as you open the door. It takes you a moment to get used to the temperature difference but once you do, you shuffle down the stairs as quickly as you can manage. Hearing the snow crunch under your boots and feeling the sun warm the little skin you have exposed makes your heart swell. You finally feel alive again.

"Y/n, there you are!" Taehyung throws the half-formed snowball in his hands to the ground, waving you over to where the rest of them are busy shoveling snow. The boys have already managed to clear a decent-sized patch, patting the shoveled snow into two barriers on the opposite sides of the cleared ground. Jungkook and Yoongi have even had time to start making two piles of snowballs, stacking up a good amount of them.

Taehyung is sporting a wide smile by the time you make it over, his eyes twinkling as he opens his mouth.

"Don't say anything," You cut him off, huffing from the restrictive layers. Taehyung holds up his hands in surrender, chuckling as you try (and fail) to cross your arms.

"I wasn't going to," He looks you up and down once, biting down on his lip to stifle his laughter. "But if I was, I'd say you look like a cute marshmallow."

You groan. "This is way too much! I can barely move."

"It's just to keep you warm, babe. We don't want you getting sick," Taehyung bops your nose with his glove. "Your team will cover you during the fight anyway, you won't have to move around too much."

"Fine, if you say so," You murmur, not entirely convinced. You know all of the boys, especially Jungkook, have a competitive streak, so you doubt it's going to be as easy as Taehyung makes it seem.

"Seokjin hyung!" Taehyung calls out as he looks over your shoulder, "Hurry up! We need to divide the teams!"

It's quickly decided that the best way to do so is by playing Rock-Paper-Scissors. It takes a few rounds to get it right but in the end, you're teamed up with Hoseok, Seokjin, and Namjoon, while the other four make up the opposing team.

"My poor angel, I can't believe she's been doomed to be on the losing team," Jimin sighs, all dramatic. He shoots Seokjin a teasing smile, like he just knows his hyung won't be able to resist rising to the bait.

"Losing team?!" Seokjin exclaims, just as predicted, poking his finger into Jimin's chest, "How are you expecting to win? You and Yoongi are too short to even look over the barrier!"

"Hey! Don't drag me into this," Yoongi pouts, swatting Seokjin's hand away from Jimin. "Let's just start the game. Namjoon, what are the rules?"

Namjoon claps his hands together, gathering everyone's attention. "Alright, so the rules are very simple. You're allowed to run up to the line that goes through the middle of the cleared area. That means that some of the trees around here can be used for cover as long as you don't cross the line. If you're hit, you're out and have to wait off to the side for the game to end. One team wins when all the players on the opposite team are eliminated. Yoongi hyung and Jungkook have already made a pile of snowballs for each team, but we'll get exactly one minute before the game starts to make as many additional ones as possible."

"Everyone got it?" He asks, looking around the group. You all chime out yes, watching as Namjoon pulls out his phone and sets the timer to 60 seconds.

"Okay, as soon as I hit this, the game starts! Three, two, one– Go!"

You hurry as best you can over to the closest barrier, letting Hoseok drag you along to give you some extra speed. He helps you kneel once you reach it, looking over at Seokjin and Namjoon as he asks, "Okay, so what's our plan? We can't let sunshine get hit."

"They have Jungkook, so they're going to go in for an intense attack right away. I think our best bet is to just wait until they start slowing down and then attack back. Jimin is probably going to try to sneak closer to the line once it dies down from their side, so let's try to take him out quickly," Namjoon says, keeping his voice low enough that it won't carry over to the other team.

"Sounds good," Seokjin hums. He hastily forms another snowball, adding it to the growing pile beside you.

"I think you better try to stay out of the way as much as possible, darling, they can get pretty brutal," Namjoon adds, shooting you a worried look.

"That's probably for the best," You agree, slumping further down behind the barrier. There's no way you'll be able to play when you're this bundled up, you doubt you'll be able to duck in time if you even attempt to throw a snowball.

"Okay, then–" Namjoon's eyes go wide as the alarm on his phone rings out into the near quiet forest. He mutters a curse as he ducks down the best he can, fumbling to turn it off.

The moment it goes silent, mayhem breaks loose. Snowballs start raining down immediately, hitting the barrier with dull thuds. You squeak as one lands right in front of your knees, nearly hitting you. You quickly shuffle to the side, practically crawling, as you hear the other team yell and taunt yours to fight back.

Just as the attack begins to wind down, Namjoon gestures for the rest of you to lay low while he peeks over the edge.

He's hit in the shoulder before you can even blink, a burst of snow raining down on the rest of the team. Namjoon flashes you all a dumbfounded look as he stumbles back, reaching up to dust off the lingering snow as someone calls out 'You're out!' from the other side.

"They mean business," Namjoon mumbles, shaking his head as he hands his snowball over to Seokjin.

"We'll get revenge for you, Joonie," Hoseok's expression is somber, a little too serious for a snowball fight.

"They always get a little too into it, don't mind them," Seokjin whispers, pulling a face.

The moment Namjoon has safely left the area, the fight picks back up, Hoseok and Seokjin joining in on it. It doesn't take long before you hear an indignant cry coming from the other team, Seokjin yelling out a cheer at the direct hit he landed on Jimin.

You feel like a sitting duck behind the barrier, unable to help your team with how tightly you're bundled up. With the boys still distracted by the ongoing fight, you quickly unzip your jacket in your crouched position, throwing it to the side. Thanks to Seokjin going a little overboard with dressing you up, you already had another jacket underneath to keep you warm. You smile, already feeling a little lighter.

"Keep going, I'll cover your left," You murmur to Hoseok as you crawl behind him, your sight set on one of the closest trees. You ignore him as he hisses out your name, clearly confused as to why you're moving away from the barrier that's protecting you.

There's a decent gap between the edge of the barrier and the nearest tree, so you'll have to make a run for it and hope that you manage to catch the others off-guard enough that they won't be able to hit you. You take a deep breath as you bring yourself up to a crouch, placing your hands on the snow for extra support. You shoot off as fast as you can but the big snow pants slow you down significantly, almost reducing your speed to a leisurely stroll. You barely manage to duck behind the first tree, taking cover, when you hear a snowball explode against it.

"How could you aim for your soulmate?!" You hear Hoseok yell out.

"Uhm, all is fair in love and war?" Taehyung sheepishly calls back.

You huff, collecting yourself for a minute before you dare to peek around the tree. The coast seems to be clear, neither Jungkook nor Taehyung is looking your way. You can't spot Yoongi, so you can only assume he's ducked behind the barrier, making more snowballs to keep up with the tempo the two youngest are throwing them at.

It's now or never.

You use the tree to give yourself a needed push forward, running towards the much larger one that's square in the middle of the cleared area. You're so focused on making it there without getting hit from the side that it takes you a second too long to realize that someone is coming full speed right at you. You barely manage to slow down before you crash right into Yoongi, the two of you stumbling into each other. Yoongi grabs your waist to steady you just as you reach out for his shoulders, your eyes locked in surprise.

"You scared me," Yoongi wheezes, pulling you tighter against him as another snowball smacks into the tree.

"Sorry," You puff, "You caught me off-guard too."

You're both panting from the tiresome terrain, your breaths swirling up towards the sun. Yoongi's cheeks are rosy from the cold, the tip of his nose colored a precious pink. He looks so cute that you almost don't know what to do with yourself.

Your gloved hands find their way from Yoongi's shoulders to his cheeks, cupping them as you ask, "Are you cold?"

"I-" Yoongi doesn't get the chance to reply before you hear Taehyung get hit, a chorus of groans and cheers sounding from the other side of the tree.

If Taehyung is out, that means that only Yoongi and Jungkook are left. You might not have been able to do much until now, but you'd be damned if you can't at least help take Yoongi out. It might be time to play dirty, even if what you're about to do makes you feel a little bad.

You swoop in to kiss Yoongi the moment you hear Taehyung being greeted by Jimin and Namjoon, pressing your cold lips to his in a chaste kiss. You feel him going pliant in your hands as your heart begins to race, your body burning hot despite the cold.

Yoongi has a starstruck look in his eyes when you lean back, one that quickly morphs into confusion as you yell out Hoseok's name before you duck. A snowball hits Yoongi square in the chest a second later, forcing him to take a step back.

"You– Seriously?" Yoongi shoots you a betrayed look as you get back to your feet.

"I'm sorry," You flash him an apologetic smile as you brush the snow away. "I think all of the competitiveness might have rubbed off on me."

"Please forgive me?" You murmur, planting another kiss on his lips, one that lingers a little longer.

"You're gonna be the death of me," Yoongi groans, shaking his head at the bright smile he gets in response. "Hurry back to your team, Y/n, you haven't won yet."

Jungkook might be a great player, but he's no match for 3 against 1. It barely takes a minute from the moment Yoongi joins the sidelines until Hoseok lands a hit on him, finally eliminating the entire opposing team. Jungkook looks stunned that he actually got hit, eyes wide as he touches his stomach. Jimin and Taehyung groan in unison, immediately beginning to bicker about what went wrong.

"Loser team my ass, Park Jimin!" Seokjin points to the sidelines with a wide grin, laughing as Jimin flips him off.

Hoseok wraps you up in a hug, swaying you from side to side as he laughs.

"We did it!" You squeal, wrapped up in a burst of happiness as Namjoon comes running over, the entire team huddling together as you celebrate your win.

"Well done, angel, I didn't know you were so sneaky," Seokjin chuckles, kissing your cheek.

"I think we might have found our secret weapon," Hoseok agrees, eying you fondly as he ruffles your hair.

You look over to the other team as you attempt to duck away from Hoseok's hand, your smile growing bigger as you notice the other boys laughing and joking around too. Jungkook seems to be mimicking Yoongi throwing a snowball that didn't go very far, causing Jimin to laugh so hard that he falls over.

Your heart swells at the scene, at finally seeing all of the boys act normal and happy. Maybe you actually can do this. Maybe it's not too late after all.

"Come on, let's bring it in!" Namjoon grins, grabbing your hand.

As you all jump around in a circle, arms tangled together and spirits high; all you can think of is that it feels nice – special, even – like something you could get used to.

a/n: what do we think about the new information the mc found – will it change anything?? and i hope you enjoyed some domestic time spent with the soulmates! (enjoy the good vibes while they last friends <3) i know i promised taegi last time but that has been pushed back to ch 15, so apologies for that, buuut you'll get taegi and namkook smut in one ch so i think that's a good deal, no? 🙈

please leave a comment and reblog if you enjoyed the chapter!! it means so much to me 💖 especially now that we're nearing the end of the story 🥺

(and you know the drill, please excuse any mistakes until i have time to go through and edit!)

#yandere bts #bts x reader #yandere x reader #yandere jungkook #yandere jimin #yandere seokjin #yandere yoongi #yandere taehyung #yandere hoseok #yandere namjoon

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familyvideostevie · 4 months

Text

a kind of hunger | chapter 2

joel miller x fem!reader

series masterlist

an offer from your employer sets your life on track and throws it into a new kind of chaos at the same time. where does joel miller fit into it all?

length: 5.9k

Warnings: 18+ smut, fem!reader, unspecified age gap, heavy petting, joel having a moment with r's tits, hand stuff, dirty talk, painful sex for a second, riding (p in v sex), like a really small smidge of breeding kink, emotional turmoil from r cause what else is she gonna do, some plot! wow! a/n: finally! another chapter. it’s short but i think we’re getting somewhere. Let me know what you think! huge thank you to @macfrog for your eyes and for keeping my sanity in check and @bageldaddy for teaching me how to use commas, letting me borrow your bar, and telling me to just “slutty hallmark it.” this is for you guys.

navigation | 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 | 𝗴𝘂𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗲𝘀

---

Bill’s offer costs you one night of sleep and that’s all.

Taking over the bar goes against every rule you've had for yourself up until now, everything that’s kept you going and on your feet.

You lose when you stick around. You get hurt when you get attached. Always keep moving.

But your night with Joel seems to have shaken something loose. You’ve got a pit in your stomach, a hunger set alight by his eyes and his hands and his attention. It’s like he reminded you how to want, how to stop letting the world turn under your feet and dig in your heels instead.

And there’s what Bill said, the thing that won't leave you alone. You think no one notices, but I notice. We all notice.

It’s easy to lie to yourself about a lot of things: that you don’t mind this life, its constant movement and instability. That it’s made you crafty. That if you picked up and left right now, you’d be fine. No one would miss you, no one would notice. The names and faces you’ve learned would fade as soon as you found new ones somewhere else.

You’ve been a tight fist your whole life, only hanging onto what can fit into your rough and weathered palm, half-moon crescents bleeding that damn desperate hope you can never seem to scrub off. It means a whole lot of avoiding things that could matter so you can’t lose them, can’t let them slip through your fingers. A family who saw your need for space and control and turned it into isolation and disinterest, who drove you away as soon as you were able to leave. College was a bust. Relationships gone sour have taught you not to rely on anyone. Failed experiment after failed experiment, just looking for something to stick. It’s better to be alone, right?

That tight fist keeps anyone out, anyway. It’s carefully rolled bills in plastic bags in the toe of a pair of sneakers just in case. It’s talking just enough to get you a place to stay, a job, a ride, but not enough that anyone remembers your face, even if you wish they would.

It’s not one big thing. It’s a million small ones. And nothing ever lasts. You never last; always cutting and running before it can get real, before they can see the truth of you and find it lacking.

You’ve been looking for the missing piece for years now, the thing that will make you feel like you’ve finally made it somewhere where you’re needed enough to stick around. Where you can stop quitting, where you can put down roots. Where you can be wanted.

You just aren’t sure it’s possible. You’ve done so many things, seen so much, that you feel like it’s too late to be anything other than this.

It’s easy to believe all of that until someone like Joel sees through it – until someone like Bill tells you none of it is true.

Fuck it.

You call Bill the next morning and tell him you'll take over Frank's.

According to him, the turnaround will be quick. He'll have someone "official" draw up the paperwork. You tell him you won't change the name. You tell him you will make some repairs, fix the cracked vinyl booths, and give the floors a refinish, and –

"Do whatever the fuck you want," he grumbles over the phone. "It's your bar."

It sure is.

You own something, now. You belong somewhere – even if it’s just because you have payslips to sign and counters to clean. But maybe this time, if you try hard enough, you can get it right.

You have a meeting to tell the staff that you’re taking over. There are only five of you – two college kids from a town over, the guy who works part-time at the garage by the highway, and an old butch called Pat you find vaguely frightening who’s been working here longer than you care to ask.

It’s probably the first time all five of you have been in the same room. None of them seem disappointed in Bill’s retirement, and they’re on board with your plan for renovations. Especially after you assure them they’ll be paid even if you close for a bit to get it all done.

Joel doesn't come in. You notice, but don’t spare it too much thought. You can’t because the bar is a fucking nightmare all week.

The keg lines keep blocking, the jukebox dies a sudden staticky death, and some asshole scratches the pool table hard enough to tear up the felt. Everyone and everything is pissing you off. It’s an effort not to spend all of your breaks on that milk crate in the alley with your head in your hands.

It feels like Frank’s is hazing you. After all you’ve done for it, you feel a little betrayed.

“Why the hell do you think I’m retiring?” Bill says when you call to bitch about it. “This shit is a fuck ton of work.”

By Friday, you're at your wit's end.

The rush has come and gone, and now it’s slow. Slow enough that you might be worried, but Pat has told you before that this is just how it is in small towns, sometimes.

That, or maybe your bad mood scared everyone off. Maybe they're tired of the shitty atmosphere, of the cloudy glasses and squeaking stools, maybe they –

You pop an olive into your mouth.

“Chill the fuck out,” you mutter to yourself. No one is around to hear.

The only patrons left are some bikers at one of the back tables playing cards. Their laughter is too loud without the music going. The mats behind the bar are sticky under your boots, and your temple has started to throb. You feel like locking yourself in the office just for the silence.

The air shifts when Joel steps inside.

The hunger you feel is a familiar fire, coals that stoke themselves and never go out. Lust, infatuation as you take in his broad shoulders and grey-streaked hair. You’re strung out and a fuck might help.

But there’s also a weight in your chest at the sight of him, one you haven’t felt in a while. It sits heavy above that smoldering flame in your belly, a bruise you can’t stop yourself from pressing on.

Maybe part of you expected him to stop coming in after you fucked. Regardless of how it made you feel, you’re just some woman who serves him two fingers of liquor when he wants to run away from his life. Just someone who gave him one good night and nothing more.

But this weight – this big, thorny emotion that looks like affection and attachment and something real – you don’t know what to do with it.

It’s never been this way with a one-night stand. Yeah, you know the weight of him above you, inside you. You know the taste of his sweat on your tongue, the feel of his head between your thighs. That kind of shit usually doesn’t change anything with you, but Joel is…different.

Careful, that voice inside you says.

Joel peels off his jacket and tosses it on the otherwise empty bar, pushing up his sleeves to reveal his tanned forearms. The stool creaks under him and his gaze is heated as it travels over you. He doesn’t bother to hide the fact that he’s looking.

He shakes his head when you hold up the bottle of whiskey.

"Water's fine," he says.

You blink. If he’s not here to drink then what is he here for?

He seems like he always does. Relaxed, like the room was made to have him in it. But you look a little closer, now that you figure you can. The deep scar on the bridge of his nose stands out and his cheeks are a little pink. The temperature must have dropped once the sun went down. His jaw isn’t tense so much as set, determined. He rubs his chin with a flat palm as you fill a glass using the soda gun.

“Whatever you want,” you say.

He looks around the bar. You figure he's taking in the out-of-order signs on the beer pulls, the flickering light pointing to the restroom, maybe even the goddamn ruined pool table.

You pick up a rag and start to clean to keep your hands busy.

“Quiet for a Friday,” he says. "Things goin’ alright?”

You bristle at the implication. It’s been a shitty week, and you don’t need anyone reminding you that you’re probably not cut out for this.

“Fucking peachy,” you snap.

Joel raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t rise to it. "Seems like things are a little tense.”

You swallow a flash of genuine annoyance.

"All it takes is a roll in the sack and now you're a talker?"

Joel isn't phased. He takes a small sip of his drink, rolls the glass between his hands. Nice hands, you think. Hands that felt so good between your --

"Just makin’ conversation," he says lightly.

You’ve always thought you were hard to read – hell, you’ve been told that many times. One of your flaws, people always say, but it makes it easier to slide in and out of places without too much damage. And yet, Joel, a man who has been in your bed once and sits at your bar when it suits him, sees right through you.

Your shoulders slump.

“I’m just tired,” you tell him.

Joel rubs his beard with one wide palm. He moves his jaw back and forth like he's giving you the chance to shut him down, like he’s chewing on the silence.

"Heard somethin'," he says. "Wondered if it was true. Thought I'd ask."

"Are you asking?"

He eyes you, takes another sip of his water like it's a tumbler of amber liquid instead. Like anything you pour him is something to be savored.

"Guess so."

You set the glass down and put your hands on the wood, leaning towards him with your head cocked.

“Are you keeping tabs on me, Joel Miller?”

“Nah,” he says, eyes flashing before they slide down to your lips. “Ran into Frank in the frozen aisle at the store.”

“And what does that have to do with me?”

The corner of his mouth tugs up. "Known him and Bill a long time."

That explains why he looks like he belongs here. He's probably been in this room more times than you have. All of the things you don't know about Joel hang in the air between you.

"Does Bill...?"

Does your buddy know you fucked me in the apartment I rent from him?

Joel shakes his head. "Frank told me Bill was giving the place to one of his employees. Figured it was you."

And that’s that. But it sounds like a compliment.

“Well, it’s me alright,” you sigh, slumping a bit. “And there's a lot of shit to do.”

Joel puts a hand on your forearm. It's a light touch, a quick one, but it sends sparks along your skin. A moth to a flame.

“Ain’t no small thing. Ownin’ a bar. Big deal, if you ask me.”

You roll your eyes but pride swells in your chest. He’s right. It is a big deal.

And here you are in your bar.

With Joel, who fits into all of this somehow. You just don’t know where yet.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t ask you,” you say with a smirk.

You want to draw it out of him, make him flirt with you for the answers he seems to want. You want something to sink your teeth into after this week, something to play with.

Something to make you feel in control. And that’s what Joel gave you, last time you saw him. He pushed when you pulled, met your touches and your quips with attitude and hands of his own. You felt alive, you felt present. You felt wanted. And it was fun.

If you’re not careful, you might forget what sex was like without that – his attention, his touch. Your name in his mouth. But now that you’re giving staying here a shot, maybe it’s time to indulge. To reach out and take.

Joel snorts. He leans forward and raps his knuckles on the wood. “Should we toast to it?”

You laugh. “I don’t drink on the job.”

He raises his water glass.

“Alright,” you scoff. “Fine.”

You pour yourself some water and clink your glasses together. Joel’s eyes never leave yours, not when he takes a long sip, not when he sets the glass down. He keeps looking at you with that heavy, unshakable gaze.

It’s unnerving, the way he makes you feel. You’re still tired, still annoyed, but there's electricity at the base of your spine, the embers in your belly. You want to talk to him.

You clench your hands around your glass. You want to touch him, too.

“So,” you say. He’s wearing a henley this time, the buttons at the top undone just enough to give you a glimpse of a peak of chest hair. You swallow and flick your eyes back to his. He’s smirking.

“So,” Joel echoes. “Why’d you take it? The bar.”

You shrug. “Seemed like a good deal.”

“Bill ain’t in the habit of good deals,” he huffs. “He must like you.”

It’s an effort to squash your smile. “I don’t think Bill likes anyone much.”

“Real asshole, ain’t he?”

That gets a laugh out of you. “Well, he’s your friend.”

“Not much choice in a small town.”

You hum.

The noisy group from the back stumble their way to the door, waving at you as they file out into the night.

“Those idiots ruined my pool table on Tuesday,” you hiss, though you smile at them.

“Gotta be pretty fuckin’ bad at pool to do that.” He looks around and realizes he’s the last one in the bar. “You closin’?”

“It’s only eleven, Joel.”

His eyes rake up and down your body. Is he thinking about how he touched you, how you fell apart under him? Heat curls lazily in your belly. He runs his finger around the rim of his glass.

“Damn shame,” he says.

Normally you wouldn’t shut for a few hours, but it’s pretty dead for a Friday and…

And Joel is looking at you like that and you want to touch him.

You don’t mess around with regulars.

You’re already breaking your rules by taking over Frank’s. What’s one more?

The pulse between your legs agrees with you.

“Colin,” you call over your shoulder, stepping back from Joel’s hot gaze. The barback appears immediately.

“Yeah?”

“I’m shutting early. Go home. Tonight’s tips are yours.”

He sputters. “Are you sure?” His gaze flicks to the stacks of glasses behind the bar, the tables that still need wiping down.

“I’ll take care of it. See you next week.”

He just shrugs and turns on his heel. A minute later the back door slams and you know the kid is gone.

You lift the bridge and slide out from behind the bar. Your boots are loud on the shitty floors with no one in here and each step to the door feels longer than it should because of his damn stare. You feel Joel’s eyes on you as you lock the door and flick off the neon BAR sign that hangs outside.

When you turn around, his eyes are dark.

Joel stays on his stool, one foot on the ground so that his knees are spread wide, watching you. One hand rests on his thigh, thick fingers tapping to a tune only he hears. His other arm is on the wood of the bar, stretching his shirt across his broad chest.

When Joel looks at you, sometimes it feels like he’s the first person to ever see you.

“Gotta settle up,” he drawls.

“What, you gonna tip me for water?”

“Not exactly,” he says, words dragging in his mouth. “Got somethin’ else in mind.”

The air in the bar sparks and crackles like one of those long Texas summer days when a thunderstorm looms like a threat. The electricity of it crackles down your spine, turns it molten, turns you dangerous. It’s never felt like this before with someone you’ve slept with. Just being close to him is enough to kick your pulse into gear. You feel hyper aware of every part of your body as he looks at you like you’re offering him something better than what you can pour.

Which, you guess, you are.

“And what would that be?”

He hums.

“C’mere.”

You can see his cock straining against the front of his jeans.

“Bossy,” you say. “That for me?” You jerk your chin towards his lap and take your time walking back to him.

He smirks. “You wanna go upstairs?”

As soon as you step between his knees, the hand on his leg moves to your hip. Two fingers sneak under the waistband of your jeans to find bare skin. You brace yourself with one palm on his thigh, another on his neck, and thread his soft hair through your fingers.

“I don’t see why we have to,” you say slowly, watching him carefully. “No one’s here. And I know the owner. She won’t mind.”

The hand on your hip slides further back and his fingers press hard into the swell of your ass.

“Oh, that right?” he chuckles. “Well, as long as we ain’t breakin’ any rules.”

You’re not sure who moves first. You’ve got a few inches on him by being on your feet so you pull him towards you just as he surges up and your mouths meet sloppily, hungrily. Joel tugs you closer and you dig your fingers into his thigh as he swallows your giddy laugh, his beard scratching your skin deliciously.

You’re going to fuck him. In your bar.

“Somethin’ funny?” he asks, lips trailing over your jaw. He’s got both hands on you now, one on your ass and the other on your hip, holding you like he expects you to disappear.

“No, not really–” You cut yourself off with a gasp when he nips your pulse point. “Joel.”

He kisses you again, licking into your mouth. You remember the sounds he made in your apartment and tug on his hair. Joel’s moan is your reward. You press close and grind your hips against the hardness in his jeans and he growls.

“Hard as a rock the second I step in this damn place,” he says, holding you there. You pull back to see his lips spit-slick, his pupils blown. Seeing him undone like this by your touch is just as thrilling as it was last time. His teeth scrape down your neck and he unbuttons your jeans.

“Sounds like a – ah – you problem.”

Joel’s fingers drag through the curls above your cunt before he goes where you really want him. You gasp against his temple when he circles your clit.

“Seems to me I’m not the only one,” he rasps.

The fingertips on his thigh become nails digging in even harder when he slips one finger inside you.

“Gonna leave bruises, sweetheart,” Joel says. Your cunt clenches around him. “You like that? Markin’ me?”

“Maybe I do,” you groan. “You left some last time.”

The angle can’t be ideal but Joel fucks you as best as he can with one finger, then two. You drag his face back to yours and suck on his bottom lip, tugging his hair all the while. Every part of you feels like it’s on fire, like you’re burning up from the inside.

His other hand rucks up your shirt until you tug it all the way off. He pulls down the cup of your bra with one hand and rolls your nipple between his fingers.

You could come like this, Joel’s hands everywhere.

Gripping him through his clothes isn’t enough. You scramble to undo his belt and get your hand in his jeans, button popped and fly down.

He grunts your name when you spit into your palm and take him in hand, velvety soft and tip leaking.

“Careful,” he hisses. “Don’t want to stop this before it starts.”

“I’ll be gentle,” you say. He thumbs your clit in response and you gasp.

Time blurs with his fingers inside you. Your strokes are lazy but he hisses each time you drag your thumb over his tip. Is it going to be this, you two pawing at each other against the bar until someone bursts?

“Joel,” you gasp. “Joel, I want –”

He finally returns to your clit with a strained smirk. The veins in his neck are visible, telling you it’s getting to him, too.

“You remember what I said last time?”

Ask for what you want, you hear me? You ask and I'll do my damn best.

You could have him bend you over the bar. You imagine it, quick and dirty, the wood digging into your waist as he slams into you, flesh on flesh. It would be better than last time, you know it. But you want to see him.

You want Joel’s face in your neck, your hands in his hair as he fills you up. You want to watch him fall apart under you.

You dig your nails into him again and he hisses. You lean forward so your lips drag along the shell of his ear.

“I want to ride you, Joel,” you say.

His eyes flash. He kisses you hard, swirls your clit one more time, and pulls his hand from your cunt. Your knees feel a little weak so you keep your hands on his shoulders.

Joel brings his fingers to his mouth and licks them clean.

“Gotta get at least a taste,” he says. “Just as sweet as I remember.” You surge forward to kiss him. You can taste yourself on his tongue and he groans into your mouth.

“Alright, baby,” he says, breath a little ragged. He thumbs your nipple again. “Where’re you gonna ride me?”

“Booth,” you manage. “Over there.” You jerk your head back towards the cracked vinyl seats he’s never once sat in since you met him. He pats your hips and you step back. The stool scrapes loudly on the floor as he stands.

He cups your cheek with one callused palm and just looks. His hair is a mess from your hands, lips swollen from your kisses. And yet he’s looking at you like you’re the answer to all his problems.

“So damn pretty,” he says.

Somehow you make it to the booth, a tangle of lips and hands, shedding pieces of clothing as you go. Your bra, his shirt, his belt. Shoes toed off and left in a pile, Joel shoves the table between the vinyl benches to the other side so there’s enough room for him to sit, for him to drag down his jeans and boxers and take his cock in one hand.

Your mouth waters at the sight of it. God, he’s thicker than you remember. One of these days you’re going to take him apart with your tongue.

You could just stand there and admire him but you’re so wet you think you’re going to drip onto the floor. His solid thighs, the dark hair gathered into curls at the base of him trailing up to his navel. If you were a painter you’d put him to a canvas.

Joel spreads his legs wide, and you run a hand down his bare chest before balancing on his shoulder as you step out of your bottoms. It’s almost funny – the two of you naked but for your socks, Joel’s pants around his ankles.

You want him too badly to spare a thought for laughter.

A condom comes from somewhere – his wallet, maybe, or his pocket, you don’t much care – and he slides it on with a hiss.

It’s different than last time. More desperate but in a fun way – and you know this won’t be the last time. You know each other’s bodies, now, and this can be quick, can be dirty, because you’ll be doing it again.

So you don’t waste any time straddling him. Joel lines his cock up with your entrance, his other hand on your hip.

“You ready?” he asks. You lean in to kiss him and sink down at the same time in response.

You moan in tandem as he fills you, the angle different from when you were on your back, so different. The stretch is deeper, and somehow you feel fuller than last time. It’s overwhelming, it’s all-consuming, it’s a little painful.

“Fuck,” Joel groans. “So tight. I ain’t gonna last long.”

It really is a tight fit, so tight you think maybe he was right to ask if you could take him without at least one orgasm to prepare you. The girth of him is splitting you in half, stretching you so much you whimper against his mouth.

Joel’s hands cup your face. “Y’okay?” he says, strained. “Hey, talk to me.”

Your eyes are shut tight, knees pressing hard into his solid thighs as you breathe.

“Need a sec,” you say. “It’s different like this, it’s –”

“I know, baby,” Joel murmurs. “Doin’ so good so far.”

He shifts his hold on you just a little and you whine. The vinyl cracks underneath his shifted weight as he whispers an apology into your shoulder.

The pain of the stretch dulls to an ache and you know what’s just on the other side. You roll your hips and the head of his cock presses exactly where you want it. It sends a shock wave of pleasure through you so intense that you fall forward a little, Joel’s face pressed to your chest.

He presses a kiss to your breastbone, so light you almost miss it as you start to ride him in earnest. Your knees press into the rough vinyl and Joel’s lips find your nipple.

“Didn’t give these ‘nough attention last time,” he says. “My mistake.”

His tongue laves at your breasts, one after the other as you swirl your hips over and over. You tug on his hair as your thighs start to burn but you keep going.

Joel’s teeth scrape against your nipples, the skin of your chest as he nips and soothes, nips and soothes. You’re going to be covered in marks tomorrow.

Maybe it’s the thrill of that, of just seeing him again, maybe it’s how bad you want him, who fucking knows – you’re already so close.

Everything fades away but this. Joel is everywhere, on you, around you, inside you…It’s just the two of you, limbs tangled and sweaty, panting each other’s name.

The smoldering in your belly is a fire climbing higher and higher and you’re going to explode with the heat of it.

Firm, rough-skinned hands hold you steady as you lift and sink, gasping every time he hits that spot inside you.

“Joel, I –”

His grip turns bruising as he starts to fuck you on his own, the wet smack of his balls filling the bar.

“I know, baby,” he pants. “I know. You hear that? You hear me fuckin’ you? You’re takin’ my cock so good.”

You plant your hands on his shoulders and try to meet his thrusts.

“Swear I dreamed ‘bout this,” he growls. “How wet you were. Those fuckin’ noises you make when I –” He circles your clit with his thumb and you keen. “There we go. Just like that.”

“Joel –

“Gonna ruin this booth,” he says with a rough chuckle. His forehead is tacky when you press yours against it.

“I – fuck – need new ones anyway, don’t I?”

Joel grins, all teeth as he pounds into you.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he says, breath hot on your lips. “Soak my cock. Know you can, so tight and –”

Your orgasm rips through you, a broken litany of Joel and yes and god knows what else torn from your throat as he fucks you through it. His thrusts become erratic and you try to keep your seat as he finishes with a deep groan.

Joel presses more of those light kisses to your collarbones, the base of your throat, so like the one he left on the back of your hand that first night. You drag your fingers through his slightly sweaty hair.

“I’ll move in a second,” you say, catching your breath.

“Take your time,” he says. “I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

His grip on you is practically gentle, fingers lazily stroking patterns into your skin. You drag a hand up and down his chest.

It’s tender. It’s…something it maybe shouldn’t be. Something that doesn’t belong in whatever you’re doing.

You get out of his lap as carefully as you can and stand in front of him, naked. Fucking with a condom is smart and all, but you wonder what it would feel like to have him dripping between your thighs.

He doesn’t hide his stare, though it’s not as charged as before. He’s looking just to look.

“Put your pants on,” you grumble at him. He laughs.

You scoop your clothes off the floor and head for the bathroom. The tarnished mirror displays your sated smile and bright eyes. You run a hand over the bruises he left on your neck, your hips. Well-fucked is a good look on you. You look exhausted but happy.

Joel is dressed and back at the tabletop when you return. He’s got his usual bottle of whiskey on the wood, two glasses already sporting a pour each.

“Not workin’ anymore, are you?” he asks you.

You laugh. “No.”

The soreness starts to settle into your thighs when you take the stool next to him.

The momentary silence isn’t uncomfortable. It is comfortable, which is the strange part. Sitting here with him at your bar after he fucked you a few feet away and sipping at your drinks.

Joel, for his part, seems unbothered. You can’t figure him out. It makes you feel a little unsteady to know that he sees right through you, but you don’t know what he’s thinking. Would he tell you if you asked?

“So,” he says. “What’re your plans for the place?”

You sigh. A piece of his hair is sticking up and you tuck your hand between your thighs so you don’t smooth it. It’s different with your clothes on.

“There’s a lot to do,” you tell him. “Jukebox is broken. Neon signs need replacing. Plumbing could do with a refresh. I want to refinish the floors, maybe tear off this ugly wallpaper –”

“Make sure you get a good gel for that,” he says. “Shit’s old and won’t come off easy.”

You lean your chin in your hand and shoot him an amused look.

“Do a lot of wallpaper removal in your spare time?” you ask.

He fiddles with his watch, jaw working around whatever it is he wants to say.

“I’m a contractor.”

“Really?”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” he grumbles. “You think I sit on my ass all day?”

Honestly, you don’t know. Most of the thoughts you have about Joel aren’t to do with his job. You have no idea what he does when he isn’t here.

You shrug. Joel rolls his eyes.

“Well, I am,” he drawls. He takes a long sip of his whiskey. “And I know the folks around here who you’ll need. Materials, all that.”

“Are you offering to help me, Joel?” You keep your voice neutral.

He looks at you head-on. It feels like he’s seeing through you again. “If you want it.”

“If we do that, it has nothing to do with…” You gesture between you. “With this.”

Joel just looks at you, letting you sort out what you want to say.

“I mean, I don’t want charity, okay?”

He shakes his head. “Ain’t charity. I owe Bill some favors. This’ll square us up. You’ll cover all the other shit, I guess.”

“It’s not his bar, anymore,” you remind him, but it’s a weak protest.

Joel knocks back the rest of his drink.

You’ve been working out how to finance the renovations all week. All that cash you’ve squirreled away over the years finally has a purpose, other than a cushion in case something really bad happens. It’s looking tight between paying the staff and sourcing the work. You’d only be able to close a week at a time and any delays will fuck the whole thing.

But if Joel’s offering discounted labor, materials on the cheap? You could get it all done faster, get it done right.

“Why do you want to help me?” you ask.

Joel huffs and if you knew him better you’d say it was in offense.

“Let’s just say I’m invested in the state of this place,” he says. “And you really gotta replace those booths.”

Your face feels hot. “Asshole.”

“So,” he says. “You interested?”

It’s not a bad idea. Hell, it might even be a good one. Money aside, Joel, whatever his story is, is connected in this town, and if you’re staying it would do you some good to start making some connections of your own. Start settling.

The fist in your chest, your heart, your mind – it loosens just a little bit.

“I’m interested.”

Joel knocks on the bar once, twice, and stands. He digs in his back pocket for his wallet and hands you a business card with his phone number.

“I’ll be here Monday morning,” he says. “We can start goin’ over stuff, figure out when you wanna close. All that. Call me anytime. Sound good?”

You just nod. The fatigue is starting to hit and Joel must be able to tell because he just smiles at you.

“Goodnight, boss lady,” he says. “Put the whiskey on my tab.”

Joel grabs his jacket and unlocks the door, sliding into the cool night with a wave.

“You don’t have a tab, asshole,” you mutter, but you’re smiling a little.

It feels like pieces are falling into place.

You know you could get the bar fixed up on your own. But with Joel’s help, it’ll get done faster and you might even have some money left over at the end of it.

It’s a lot all at once. But for some reason, it feels different this time. It’s not another job about to fall through, not another relationship going south because you got spooked. It’s not you getting bored and cutting your losses.

You want this. You want it to work. Usually, you’d have left by now, before you got too attached, but it’s too late so you’re going to make it work.

This thing with Joel, though – you’re going to have to be careful. If you’re not, it’ll run away from you and – well. You don’t want to lose control of it.

You look around the bar and sigh. Unwiped tables, a booth that no one should sit in, floors to clean. A few hours of work before bed.

You know you’re going to spend them trying not to think about the man who just left.

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback!

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction

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darlingshane · 4 months

Text

Professor Castle

Frank Castle x F!Reader

Summary: Frank has a weakness and it's named after you. No matter how much he tries to push you away he always returns to the same point.

CW: 18+. Explicit, Smut, Angst, Oral Sex (f. receiving), Fingering, Making out, Professor/Student relationships, Age Gap, Reader is an undergrad student in her early 20s. [I know this is very problematic. Don't come at me. It's just fiction.]

Word Count: 2.8k // AO3 Link.

A/N: This was inspired by this picture of Jon in Origin. I couldn't write for that character in particular, so I thought Frank was the best choice for it, even if it's a lot OOC.

As you muster the courage to enter and confront Professor Castle, you observe him through the cracked door of his office. He looks as good as ever, freshly shaved, in one of his Bexley plaid shirts in white with blue plaid lines, and a dark tweed blazer on top. His hair has slightly curled from the humid weather. His glasses slip a little over the bridge of his nose when he looks down, and he pushes them back in place before tucking a folder in his leather case. You haven't seen him in a few days. Even when you submitted the form to drop his class you managed to leave it on his desk yesterday after he left home. And just early this morning before getting to campus you got an email from him from his uni account, formally denying your request to drop. You don't give a fuck about failing and having to take another course with a different teacher but after what he told you last weekend, you can't stay in his class any longer. It'd be like torture having to see him and not being able to be with him like you desire to.

Of course, you don't ever want to get him in trouble either, he has a lot more to lose than you. But if he doesn't want to see you anymore, then so don't you. So, after a moment of consideration you just clench your fist as hard as you can, set your jaw straight, and storm into the office without announcing yourself. The door slamming the door behind you is what alerts him of your presence. The loud sound makes his head snap up to look at you, standing as tall as you can.

“You can't force me to stay in your class.” You say firmly without raising your voice.

His brow knits behind the thin frame of his glasses as he processes your intrusion.

“No, I guess I can't force you. But I can't let you drop either. You missed the deadline. Unless you have a good excuse like a serious medical condition or emergency the school is not going to let you withdraw at this point. It's out of my hands.”

“Does dying of heartbreak count as a medical emergency?”

“Jesus Christ, you theater kids are really dramatic.”

“Hey, you're the one who told me to join a club.”

“Yeah, but I meant something else like uh… the debate team, the honor society, the newspaper, or the fucking model UN.”

“Well, I made my choice and so did you. I can't just keep showing up at your class and pretend that nothing happened. Can you just think of something? If I meant anything to you… just give me this, Frank.”

You never said his first name before on school grounds. It sounds like a curse word as it slips out of your mouth.

“There are only two months left. That's nothing. Are you telling me you're willing to throw all of that away for me?”

“Yes, because if I can't have you then I can't see you either.”

You catch when his Adam's apple anxiously goes up and down as you say that.

“This is all my fault. I should've never… I should've put a stop to it when I had the chance.”

“Frank—” You take a step closer to his desk, but he promptly holds a placating palm in the air to push you to a stop.

“Don't. Please. Don't throw away your future for me or for anyone for that matter. You're smart and young and strong enough to endure a few more classes. You'll be getting your bachelor's next year, sweetheart. After that… you won't even remember I was ever part of your life.”

“I won't ever forget. I'm begging you. Just let me go or take me back… but…” your frustration knots in your throat. “Stop pushing me away. I know you love me.”

“It doesn't matter if I do. We both have a lot to lose if they find out.”

“Nobody will. We'll be more careful… We could just start over somewhere else, just you and me.”

“Life is not a movie. It doesn't work like that. I know it feels like a matter of life or death right but when you're older—”

“Don't patronize me. I know what I feel. Just take me out of your class or don't. I won't show up either way.”

You turn around to leave the room at once but Frank quickly shuffles behind you and as you reach to grab the handle, he holds the door closed and secures the lock before your eyes.

“So help me God, you're gonna be the end of me, sweetheart.” His tone changes to an octave graver that sends a chill through your spine.

“What are you doing?” You turn around as he steps so awfully close you can capture the strong scent of his aftershave.

“You're going to stay in my class. Front row. Every Wednesday at 10. Then, you're going to ace your final in May. I don't ever wanna hear you again saying otherwise. Is that clear?” He states as a matter of fact, as if you had no choice but to comply with his demand.

“Why are you so convinced I will?”

You watch him up close as he takes off his glasses and lifts his opposite hand to frame your jaw. With conflicted thoughts he pushes your back against the wall, as his face leans to seize your mouth. Professor Castle slowly spells with his tongue all the secrets kept between you in just one beautiful kiss that leaves you breathless.

“Is that enough?” His head pulls back as he sets his glasses back over his eyes as you smooth the lapels of his blazer.

“I'm not sure,” you draw a breath and let the bookbag hanging on your shoulder fall to the floor. “I think I'm gonna need a bigger incentive.”

“There's never enough for you, huh?” he holds your jaw again and tilts your head to the side as he buries his mouth in the crook of your neck.

His lips hold some sort of spell that enchants your body with just a few nips on your skin. The tip of his tongue is laced with poison that intoxicates each and all of your senses as it juts out to leave a wet trace from your collarbone to the back of your ear before pulling back. His eyes turn darker behind the glass as he locks eyes with you. Your pulse picks up in your chest as he licks his lips and allows lust to take over. He watches his thumb trace the shape of your mouth before fiercely succumbing to the temptation of your lips once more, with feeling.

As your arms curl around his neck, his hands travel beneath the hem of your striped, knitted sweater to bask in the warmth of your skin. The sloppy sounds of your kisses sound like sin in this room. You should stop. He should too. But neither of you have enough strength to push the other away.

One of his hands stays pressed on your spine while the other travels down your denim skirt and slips underneath the hem. Hiking it up, his large palm shamelessly grabs your ass, molds your flesh to the shape of his fingers over your panties. Your skin quickly heats up and your mind swirls along the maddening rhythm of his tongue. He presses himself so hard against you, it feels like he's already fucking you, but it's the illusion of his fingers bluntly sliding between your legs and pressing over your opening, stirring a good moan out of you.

“Sh, sh…” he breaks the kiss and whispers a millimeter away from your mouth. “Gotta be quiet now, yeah?”

You simply nod, having his eyes gauging your expression changing as his hand viciously massages your pussy.

“Like that?” His lips pull up at the corners, and you mirror his expression as you softly pant.

“Fuck yeah.”

Then, you close your eyes and press your forehead to his shoulder, keeping your hands anchored to his arms as your juices stain the fabric of your underwear.

“You're dripping, sweetheart.” His voice echoes in your ear. “Is this what you want?”

He presses harder as your grip on him tightens.

“Yeah.”

For a second you think he's going to finish you right there but all of a sudden he stops.

“C'mere,” he locks your arms around his neck before lifting your ass in his hands without much effort. You tuck your legs around his hips as he takes turns around and walks toward the desk.

Keeping you secured in one arm, Frank blindly moves the stuff in the middle before carefully lowering you down on the wooden surface. While you lay on your back, he sits on his chair and brings your ass close to the edge. Instead of letting your legs dangle, he places your feet on each arm of his chair as he kisses one of your knees.

“God, you're so beautiful,” he mumbles against your skin as he rolls down the fabric of one of your thigh-high stockings to uncover your leg. He does the same with the other stocking before letting his lips get his reward.

The inside of your thigh leads a straight road down to hell. After last weekend, he promised himself he would never cross that line again, but he has a weakness, and it’s named after you. It's taken him through a dangerous path that puts everything he ever believed into question. He could lose his job and his reputation if someone were to cross the door to his office and find you spread like a meal ready to consume. It's lunchtime after all, and he can't think of anything better to feast on other than you. His lips trail that perdition-paved road on your thigh as his fingers softly brush the back of your leg. Your skin sticks out as you pull your knees further apart to make room for his face as it gets closer to your center. The corner of his glasses gently pokes the top of your thigh when he reaches that crucial point. You bite your lip and stare at the broken fixture on the ceiling and try to keep yourself from moaning when he pulls your panties to the side. He stretches the fabric as far as it goes, it makes a tearing sound, but it doesn't break. You couldn't care less if he rips them apart. It wouldn't be the first time either. He’s ruined two pairs already. Professor Castle has a wild side that only comes untamed when he’s with you. But this is different. He's never gone down on you right in his own office on campus like he's about to do. You both know the implications of that, but rules be damned right now. All that worry floats out of your head as his tongue makes first contact with your pussy. He draws a line from your opening up to your clit ever so softly before pulling your outer lips apart and diving in. He has just an ounce of restraint himself from going too hard and making you scream out in pleasure, even though he wants so badly to suck on your clit to hear you pleading for more. To stir out of your voice call out his name and title out of sheer joy. But he holds back. He presses an array of kisses and nibbles all over your folds as you close your eyes to focus on the torturing slow pace of his tongue. Your nipples are hard as a rock under your bra, your legs strain to stay in position when Frank slowly laps around your clit, collecting your arousal as your breathing hollows. He places a palm on your stomach, right under your sweater and catches the effects of his mouth in the way your body reacts. There’s an added edge to doing this right here, it makes his cock throb in his underwear as you mumble his name.

“Frank.” It comes out as a murmur, and he hums against your tender skin before going a little harder. There’s only so much he can do to up the pace and make you come without alerting anyone behind that door of what’s happening inside.

We'll be more careful, you said. He eats out your words straight out of your sex.

To speed up the process uses his other hand to slip two fingers into your opening and press on your g-spot. Your back arches in response. Frank has to press that hand on your abdomen a little harder to keep you from squirming too much. It feels like an eternity until you reach the point of no return, once you're there you can feel that fire burning bright at your core as a mind-numbing chill settles at the back of your head. You've never felt that intense jolt sparking your body like fireworks before. Then again you don't have much to compare him to other than the one and only boyfriend you had when you started college.

You grip at his hair as he cues your orgasm. With a strong flick of his tongue and that adamant pressing of your walls you finally come undone. You bury a moan in your throat as every cell of your body is touched by that wildfire that travels from your center out in every direction. It curls your toes in your shoes, your eyes shut, your knees clench together before he can pull his face away. As the orgasm ebbs he sets himself free from your thighs and watches you descend from cloud nine. He uses a tissue to clean up your cunt and fixes your panties to their former position. Then, Frank settles your legs down as your body goes completely limp, and straightens your skirt over your thighs with such love it almost makes you cry.

“Frank,” your voice comes out watery.

“Sh, it's okay, baby. I know. Come here.” He helps you up and pulls you onto his lap.

“I missed you.”

“I know.” He smiles against your hair as he snuggles you against his chest. “I’ve missed you too, sweetheart.”

You clear your throat and stay still for a minute while his hand soothes your back before noticing he’s still hard.

“Do you want me to take care of this?” You fondle his bulge over his pants.

“No, that’s okay. That’s my punishment for hurting you.” He takes your hand away, brings it up to his lip to kiss your knuckles.

“You really have a thing for punishment, huh?” You quip, lifting your head to look at him. It’s then that you notice his messed up hair and send our fingers to fix it.

“Not as much as you do.” His hand pats your ass reminding you of all those times you've begged him to spank you when you were being a brat.

You laugh as you take off his glasses and use the hem of your sweater to clean them.

“Can I come over this weekend?” You ask putting his eyewear back on.

“I have that wedding I told you about. Can't get out of it, I'm the best man.”

“Right. Of course. One of your marine buddies. Florida, right?”

“Yeah.” His stare goes down as he massages your hand thinking that maybe… “You could come with me if you want.”

“I uh… I don't think I'm ready for that.”

“No, you are. Nobody will know you there, and I don't wanna keep lying about you, at least not to my friends. They won't give a fuck, you know? I'm tired of being set up for blind dates and shit.”

“Oh, it must be really hard being you.” You mock.

“Don't laugh. Just think about it. It'll be something casual at the beach. I'll get you a ticket if you're worried about that.”

“I really changed your mind, did I? That's a full 180 from what you said the other day, Frank. Are you sure you want this?”

“Yeah, I was only fooling myself thinking that I could stay away from you. Which I would've if you hadn't shown up here with a fucking attitude. But you're right, we'll have to be more careful from now on.”

“And we can do whatever we want in Florida.”

“Yeah, you wanna come?”

“Only if you really want me there.”

“I wouldn't be asking if I didn't.”

“Then I'll go with you.”

You press your lips sweetly against his and let them bounce together for a moment before getting back to reality. You pull up your stockings all the way up and fix up your clothes before collecting your bag from the floor. But Professor Castle can't help but stall for a bit longer to kiss you once more until you have no choice but to run to your next class.

#frank castle #frank castle x reader #frank castle fanfiction #the punisher fanfiction #frank castle smut #jon bernthal #jon bernthal fanfiction #jon bernthal smut #angst #smut #darlingwrites

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rafeandonlyrafe · 7 months

Text

hoodie

words: 1.1k

"what are you doing?"

you jump at rafes voice, dropping the fabric that was in your hand. you turn and give him your best innocent smile, one you know he sees right through.

"nothing!" you hum, rushing out of the closet and towards your boyfriend, giving him a peck on the lips in greeting. you go to step away, but rafe places his hands on your hips to stop you.

"are you stealing my clothes again?" he asks, eyeing you as you quickly shake your head no, clearly not believing you.

"i was just doing some organizing in your closet while i waited for you to get home." you explain, rubbing your hands over his shoulders and chest. "missed you."

"you haven't organized a thing in your life, woman. you can't fool me." rafe says, hands briefly tightening on your hips in warning.

you pout, looking up at him through your eyelashes. "fine. i wanted one of your hoodies. i like them."

"i like them too baby and i won't have any left if you keep stealing all of them." rafe laughs, bending down to press a kiss to your lips.

"ugh." you groan, but still burrow into his chest, missing his warmth. you close your eyes and wrap your arms around his firm shoulders, both needing a moment of silence to just be together.

"do you still wanna go out tonight?" rafe asks, moving his hand to comb his fingers through your hair.

"mmm, sure." you shrug. "as long as you want to. im kind of excited to see this movie."

rafe smiles, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "alright, ill tell top we're coming then, he's gonna get us chairs and everything."

you hum in response, excited to watch a movie in the open air cinema under the stars, right next to the water.

you eventually have to let go of rafe so he can shower and get ready to go, and you busy yourself fixing your hair, then just lay on the couch as you wait for rafe to come downstairs.

"that's what you're wearing tonight sweetie?" he asks, admiring the sundress.

"mhm. it's supposed to be warm, i don't think you'll need a sweatshirt." you say, looking up to rafe.

"i can take it off, besides it's a double feature tonight, it may get chilly."

"mkay." you hum. you didn't bring anything else to wear, so you're stuck in just the sundress as you head out to rafes truck.

he opens up the passenger side door for you, giving you a hand to help you climb in considering it's lifted quite high off the ground.

rafe turns on the radio once he starts up the truck, placing a hand on your thigh as he drives the short distance to where the outdoor movie is.

"let's find top." you say once rafe is parked.

rafe spots him easily among the crowd and leads you towards him, and the three lawn chairs set up next to each other.

"hey topper." you say, giving him a friendly wave. you're not close to him by any means, but he's rafes friend, therefore you end up spending a considerable amount of time together.

"hey, what's up?" he asks both of you, making sure to not address his question to just you, as rafe gets overprotective very easily.

rafe answers, and you sit down as the boys launch into some conversation about golf that you don't care to listen to. the eventually take their seats as the sun starts to set, rafe pulling your chair as closely as possible to his, lacing your hands together as the movie starts.

you giggle at the jokes, eyes always moving over to rafe to make sure he’s smiling and laughing too. he catches you once, during the movie, eyes also turning to you. he gives you a smile, tugging you in close to press a kiss to your lips.

you’re surprised how much you like the first movie, but you do find your stomach rumbling slightly, so when they call a ten minute intermission between the movies, you pout and ask rafe to get you some popcorn.

rafe eyes topper as he gets up, a clear warning to stay away from you but to also keep an eye on you.

you shiver, rubbing your hands over your arms, and topper doesn’t miss it. he felt the temperature drop as well, a sudden increase in the wind speed bringing a chill to his body as well.

“shit, are you cold?” topper immediately begins to shrug off his jacket. he can’t have rafe, who entrusted you to his care, come back to find you with goosebumps.

“thank you.” you take toppers jacket, using it to cover yourself but not slipping your arms into the sleeves, knowing that your boyfriend would not like that. you sit in silence with topper, both looking for rafe to come back.

you smile when you spot him, weaving through chairs and people with two bags of popcorn in his hands. his eyes briefly brighten with a smile, only to drop down and see you with toppers jacket thrown over your front.

“baby, you’re cold?” rafe asks, but it’s more of a statement.

“topper gave me his jacket just until you got back.” you say, taking it off and handing it back to topper quickly. “wasn’t that nice of him?”

rafe pauses, eyes flickering between the two of you. “yeah, nice.” rafe sets down the bags of popcorn on his empty chair, shrugging his own jacket off and handing it to you. you smile and put it on fully, zipping yourself up in the warm material. he sets down, handing one of the popcorns to topper.

you snicker to yourself, but rafes perceptive eyes see it. “don’t even start.” you move yourself to rafes lap, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. “you’re such a good friend and boyfriend.”

“stop it right now.” rafe says, but the corners of his mouth tick up. you smile as well, leaning in and pressing a kiss to his lips.

you can see topper smile as well when you pull away, but he remains facing forward, eyes on the movie screen as he pops a piece of popcorn into his mouth.

you turn as the movie starts, your back against rafes chest, eating out of the popcorn bag as he holds it for you. you rest your head against his shoulder, hoping your body heat is keeping him warm now that he’s given you his jacket. you turn your head to the side, pecking a kiss to rafes jaw. “what happened to not being allowed any more of your hoodies?”

“i was mistaken, baby. you can have all my hoodies as long as you never wear one of toppers, or anyone elses, ever again.”

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seventhcallisto · 7 months

Text

Chapter 1 — "why didn't you answer my call?"

—Deep Down.

Toc/cw; read prologue or you'll be v confused!! Touching. Nothing much except world building. Language. Heats are the omega equivalent for periods(without the bl00d). I said what I said. Heat suppressants work, they just sedate the need for a knot(#worldbuilding). Angst at the end, lots of it throughout(it gets better I swear.)

It's not a surprise when the majority of unanswered texts come from mingi. You left without warning, and to think; he thinks he was the one who sent you to the hospital. All because he simply bumped into you. You feel bad. You feel terrible. Yet you're so scared you're gonna say something and reveal what really is going on.

Your hip, ankle, shoulder, and elbow ache. Your hips for two reasons. You scratch at the bandage on your elbow.

"You want me to lie?" You mumbled into the speaker. On the other side is your manager, no, not jongsik, but the overly obsessive and pushy manager that takes care of most of the groups publicity and what can and will be said. "I don't want to lie to them, they'll figure it out" you continue, growing more upset.

"Just until your next uhm. Cycle. Then the company can break the news publicly and personally to them." Song Pilyoung. Mr. Pil. Answers, as if expecting you to say that.

It hasn't even been a day since your last heat. You're supposed to keep up with your lies and completely change demeanor and body back to your old self for a month? When you know your obvious behavior will be to coddle and preen at any affections from the alphas you so desperately missed during your heat.

Seonghwa, who knows when the slightest thing is off with you. Who can tell when you're sick based on how you act and watches you so intensely under his pretty keen eyes, even when he bites you, ever so gently, you think, compared to the aggressive chomps he does to the rest of the guys.

Yeosang, who genuinely likes to be near anything that smells like you or makes him think of you, which he shyly admitted, who ever so gently leans his head on your shoulder when he has a stressful day. Yeosang who you constantly are seen next to, brushing arms gently with.

Mingi who continously hugs and drags his long limbs across you, because you're the only member who won't complain and will put up with him, who shares his food with you, but only you because he likes the way you follow him without questioning what it is you're being fed. but it's indulgent. You like how he casts himself on you and the way he grabs your chin when he wants you to try a piece of food.

Yunho who can't help but hold your hand whenever he's next to you, because an alpha and beta can have that public privacy without being seen as dating, yet you hope he doesn't feel the quickening pulse vibrating your fingers, yunho who defends your name and includes you in any type of conversation if you're nearby.

San who, for some reason, always flirts with you the hardest, only for you to plainly respond or brush him off because you're a beta, and you tell him so - not because you know he doesn't mean what he says, right?. San who sits side by side with you and makes sure the blanket covers you when you sit at award shows, even going as far as to take his own suit jacket off and maybe cover you from prying eyes.

Wooyoung, who gatekeeps you too much when he gets the chance, who stands behind you to make sure you get up the stairs safely, and so no one peeks up at you. Who always tells you about the drama with other alphas cause he knows you don't gossip, wooyoung whos smile makes you smile, whos lips make yours want to gravitate towards them.

Jongho, who you baby yourself - but always steps up to take anything on your shoulders that seems too heavy. Even during any type of game, he'll give you the answer and never regret it. He who will share his jacket and shuffle closer when he sees you shivering. When his eyes meet yours across the room just because you assumed he was searching for something, he holds the contact until you pull away. he warms you more than the jacket he lends you whenever it seems the slightest bit cold.

Hongjoong, who lets you sleep in his bed when you have a nightmare, who people say favorites you the most. how his calming scent always drags you under and sparks fireworks within you, how you never indulged yourself to scoot closer and be wrapped up in his arms anywhere at any time whenever he looks at you. He who leaves his clothing in your room, who silents everyone immediately when he knows you have something to say.

When did you realize you felt like this? For a while, actually, you would never say that, though. Feelings are feelings, yet you'll be with these guys the rest of your life, and you don't want to ruin anything. Plus, you're just another pack member. You're genuinely sure all of those moments can be because they're protective. You highly doubt they feel the same.

"I can't promise anything" you sigh as you tell Mr. Pil. "Great, I've got a driver on his way to you already, he's picked up everything you'll need for the month."

Perfect.

You see yourself out of the idle apartment. "Bye, gorgeous!" Yuqi and shuhua wave down the hallway. Miyeon is the one to walk you down, making sure you make it out safely.

You've washed yourself of their scent as much as you can. A bag of fresh, unworn and recently bought clothes are given to you provided by miyeon after your shower. You've got to undo ever being there, so you scrub yourself free of every scent of them. A new bottle of shampoo, conditioner, body soap, and perfume is given to you. Each of the members have an assortment of things they don't use or didn't want anymore. Which is very convenient for you.

From the pile, they each pick out things beta-you would have liked. Current omega-you doesn't have the same nose beta-you had. So you have to rely on your best friends' scents and recollection to give you things you would have liked. Which is how you smell as close to as you did before. You just tweaked a bit because you gotta like at least some of your smell. The girls give in. Your new permanent scent. A smell; omega-you indulges in which you didn't before. A lingering scent of sweets and tropicals you try not to get used to under the chaotic neutral tone your old scent gave off, a love-hate feeling.

You pull the hoodie snug. Miyeons pants are a bit tight, considering she doesn't work out as much as you do. A plain black and white track suit. "This is me," you sigh as the sleek black car pulls up. Miyeon is silent, yet you wait for her to speak anyway. "You're always welcomed here, you know that, right?" She nudges your shoulder with her hand.

"I know."

"And if you need anything. Anything. you call or text." She adds. "I know." "You know we love you, new sex and all" she smiles, you laugh. "That's very reassuring, thanks, love you too." You want to hug her, but you'll know it'll undo the scent process you just spent all morning working on.

"If anyone gives you problems, tell em idles' got your back." she grins, pressing a single digit finger to your forehead. "Bye cutie pie," she ushers you off the sidewalk and towards the car.

The ride back is full of anxiety. How are you supposed to explain the reason you haven't responded to the number of messages they left? Maybe cause you were actually too busy going through a terrible, disgusting, uncomfortable heat by yourself with no relief for days on end.

You can't say that though.

"Mr. Chen, are the guys at the apartment?" You speak to the driver. He's an older omega man, one you've come to know personally. The man in the passenger seat, an alpha, doesn't seem to care when you talk to him. "No miss, they're at the stadium filming." Chen glances at you through the rear-view mirror. "Filming?" You repeat. "Yes ma'am, filming for the music video starts today.."

Right. Of course. How could you forget? You've memorized everything down to the tiniest detail in the span of two weeks before your sudden omega sex came and distracted you. But you doubt you'll be picture perfect. At least in your own eyes.

The car passes the turn to your apartment. You can see the building in the distance. "Mr Chen, are we not going to the apartment?" The man in the passenger seat sits up and turns around to look at you. His eyes hold irritation. "Listen, beta, we're going to the filming site. Yeah? Got it? Be patient. Sit back."

If you were childish enough, you would have kicked his seat. You scoff. Falling back, letting the disrespect go. You gotta let it go. Don't fist fight a random alpha with a superiority complex.

Don't do it.

As soon as chen comes to a stop at the designated location, the alpha pops open his car door. You wait for him to get between your door and his. Boom. You slam your door open on his tush.

He pulls back, glancing between you and the door. There's a flare to his nostrils. One, you know only a pissed person would showcase. And god, is it satisfying to slam the door behind you and smile like the petty person you are.

"Woops," you simply say. His pissed face urks you to stand your ground. He doesn't hesitate to walk up to you, a crazed look in his eyes. "You-"

Your name is called in the distance, and you know exactly who's calling it. Your head whips, and your heart skips a beat. Running straight towards you are the guys, emerging straight from the field to your right. They look unreal, like they popped out of a commercial.

Mingi is the first to slam into you.

"Hey, ow!" You laugh, pulling him in tighter. The alpha, whose energy dissipates, turns away as if he wasn't about to go off on you.

Mingis arms are a welcoming feeling. He twirls you around, taking on your weight like it's his own. There's a certain desperation in his tight hold. You feed into it, pulling him just as tightly by the shoulders.

"Are you okay? Why didn't you answer my calls?" He pulls away only enough to scan your face. Maybe you really shouldn't, but mingis face is picture perfect. Whatever the makeup artists have done to make him look this good, it surely is based on hard work and years of perfection. Or maybe it's just mingi.

You stutter to answer, "I'm sorry, I wasn't.. really allowed to" it's half the truth. His hands fall to your hips, silent as he takes you in. "I'm sorry," he says, pulling his lip under his teeth. He genuinely looks sorry. Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "Mingi! No, I'm fine, completely." You pull his hands off you, missing the smell of sea salt and jasmine. You spin around. "Fine! See? Mingi.. i-"

Another pair of arms scoop you up. Silencing whatever you were saying, it's yunho this time, smiling ear to ear. And immediately after, waiting patiently next to mingi is San, his eyes flicker behind you, but as soon as you look his way, he catches your face. "Hey," he says so simply, with that sneaky grin he always has, yet you can tell he wants to say more.

"Hi," you say simply back, pulling both Yunho and San into a tighter hug. "How was it?" San asks, his voice is so sultry, something you missed, your mind goes haywire. "What?" Your face falls. "How was being away for so long? You missed us, right?" San laughs.

"Missed you? Never," you joke, pushing them both away when you catch Jongho and Yeosang jogging over. Jongho scoops you up next. His arms are tough, obviously, from working out so much lately. You take a well needed whiff of him. Fresh florals, mahogany, charred sandalwood, and laundry invade your nostrils. His head falls over yours, pulling back to let yeosang get a hug. Yeosangs arms are lean, but his hug is soft when he pulls you close, breathing you in.

Wooyoung and Seonghwa are last. Which you find surprising. Seonghwa, who usually pulls you into a half hug- full-on, brings you in. He smells like leather, dark coffee, and vanilla cream. There's so much more, but you're pulling away before you can smell him some more. Wooyoung locks you in, tilting you on your heels back and forth. He's the smiliest of the bunch. He sets his face on your shoulder, and his hands squeeze your sides comfortably. San scoots past the two of you, popping open the trunk.

The trunk, where your bag is. Full of assortments of scent blockers, heat suppressants, and the many smells the girls gave you so you can get by for the month smelling like your old self. Panic sets in, yet you try to seem as casual as you can when you twist in wooyoungs hands. "San, I got it!" You somewhat shout. San looks up, confused, pulling the shoulder strap over his shoulder. Wooyoung still has you in the tightest embrace around your waist.

"You really want to carry your own bags?" Yunho scoffs at the idea, mingi takes the other bag next to san. One you don't even remember throwing in. "I'm a big girl. I can take my own bags," you mumble. Wooyoung laughs from just over your shoulder. His lean body presses directly into your back. He's so very warm. You try not to think about it, opting to continue struggling.

"Woo, c'mon," you slump, you're not getting to that bag. It's no use, you're too exhausted to fight against him. He laughs. "It's just one bag beta, I'm sure your big girl attitude can be put aside for now," Woo loosens his hold around your waist, patting your hip with his large palm.

Seonghwa continues for him, a certain upset tone in his voice. "You just got out of the hospital. I don't know why you're here instead of resting at home."

You gulp when San slings the backpack around. "What did the hospital give you anyways?" He chuckles. You count heads, realizing hongjoong isn't here. "Where's -" the door behind you slams.

The alpha from before storms around the driver side. Everyone stops to stare. San shares a look with seonghwa. "What's his problem?" Wooyoung whispers to you, his breath fanning your ear. You scoff silently. "Egocentric alpha." You grumble.

"Got it," he laughs, he's missed you. Pulling you away. The guys all fall behind you two.

The cold of spring is fading away. It no longer nips at your nose. Soon, summer will roll around, and filming will get exhausting more than it already is. Your clothes whip around at the slight gusts of wind. Your makeup isn't caked on for once. Thankfully, you have a new makeup artist this time. Your scent still lingers. You'd have to reapply scent blockers soon. The bottle shifts between your fingertips, twisting and pulling at the lid. You subtly rub it around your scent glands. The chatter of the guys behind you cast in the background of your attention. Hongjoong is just a little bit away. You haven't seen him since you got there. Makeup and clothing took at least an hour or two.

Even though he's right there, you miss him. Hongjoong stands by the filming aquitment, speaking with the crew. You take your time walking up, having just now realized hongjoongs hair is back to the pretty brown you know suits him.

"Joong," you call, a blanket shrugged over your exposed shoulders. His shoulder straightened at your voice; his head whipped around. "Hey!" He calls, a genuine smile lighting up his features.

Hongjoongs figure is still so welcoming. The pack leader has always had that effect on you. It takes everything in you to pull away from the hug. "We missed you," he says earnestly, his hand resting on your neck where your scent gland is. "How are you feeling?"

You sigh, "I'm feeling good," it's somewhat true, although genuinely exhausted from the entire week of being poked and provoked by doctors and annoying alphas. what really got you was your first heat.

"You should be at home, not working." He huffs, reaching up to pull the blanket over you further. "I want to work," you nod, confirming it to yourself. He chuckles. "Yeah, right"

"Take it easy, kay?" You smile. "No promises"

It's the next day when the sun begins to set. You realize you're your biggest enemy. You will never be satisfied with how you contort your body to follow steps. 4,5,6. You repeat. 4,5,6. You stare as you watch yourself perform on the monitor.

There's a tension in the air, the staff can feel it, and the guys can feel it. Everyone moves around freely around you, the guys getting ready to perform the next sequence of steps. Yet you don't care if you're the one giving that tense energy off, your feet stand firm. "One more time, please," you ask the tech crew to repeat the video. A hand falls on your shoulder. Yunho calls your name softly. "Yeah?" You respond, not paying attention to what he says.

4. 5. 6. 4.5.6.

You watch as your lines loosen. This solo shot of you is cursed. Why can't you keep your movements sharp? "Beta," yunho calls firmly. You lift your head, catching his brown eyes with your own. "You're perfect." he guides your chin when you want to turn your attention back to the monitor. "No- look, my arms -" you go to point.

Yunho roughly turns you fully towards the monitor, and his hands fall by your waist. His chest presses against your back as he bends over you, and his head leans over your shoulder. "Look," he takes the word from your mouth. Pointing at your arms as you dance around on screen. "Your arms are fine." His silver hair brushes against your cheek. "There's nothing wrong with your shot. It's perfect."

And it's not because the alpha uses his firm voice to make you listen. It's the way yunho so passionately stares at you, like he believes what he says wholeheartedly. His eyes never slip from over your shoulder, even when yours keep falling back to the monitor.

"Okay," you listen. Yunhos hands fall off you, stepping away. You miss his warmth.

You're a week into the month when suspicion arises. Seonghwa is the one that finds your unopened bottle of scent blockers. "Hey," he says, twiddling the bottle in his nimble fingers. Your eyes shoot up from your phone, watching him stand in your doorway. "Are these yours? None of us had to get a refill." it's such a normal question because seonghwa doesn't think about it. All of the guys use scent blockers to perform for concerts or events.

But you're honestly choking. "I uh- I got a new bottle last week," you gulp. Quick, excuse. Excuse!. "Oh" His eyebrows furrowed. You haven't performed in about a month since the comeback is soon. "Yeah, i - that smell thing I had going on? That's what those are for." You loosely point.

"They're supposed to help," you gulp. Please take the hook. Seonghwas eyes scan you over once again, then back at the bottle. "Are they working?" He finally says. You blank.

"I don't know, can't really tell," you mumble. "Can you?" You sit up, scooting further down your bed. Seonghwa walks into your room. His scent mixes in with the smell you've had to endure all week. "Yeah, I suppose." You can see the gears behind his eyes moving.

"You suppose?" Your eyebrows furrowed. He bites on his lip, pulling at his earring. "Mm, you smell like you usually do.. but.." he thinks about it, scanning your room. His eyes finally fall on your face, urging him to continue. "Never mind."

Seonghwa exits your room without another word. You're in silence by yourself. The suspicion makes your anxiety skyrocket. He left his shirt behind on your bed.

You take it. Why not?

Hongjoong is late coming back again from the studio. He smells stressed beyond belief, even from where you sit across the apartment. He hangs his jacket up in the hallway. And you hear the slow pattern of his feet when he walks down the hallway. Your head falls on the arm of the couch, eyes focused on the TV. Hongjoong calls your name in a whisper. You look up at his tired eyes.

"Why aren't you sleeping?" He questions you. You have half the energy to laugh quietly. "Says the one in the studio at.." You check your phone. A picture of you and the girls on the lock screen. "4 am.. why aren't you?" You set your phone back down, pulling your feet up so he can take a seat on the couch without you hogging the whole thing.

He gladly takes it with a heavy sigh. His hand falls to your ankle poking out of the blanket, and you shiver slightly at the chill of his rings. "How are you feeling?" You scoot to sit up, leaning on your hand. "It always gets hectic before a comeback," he huffs a smile, turning towards you. "How are you?" His finger brushes up your calf. "I asked first," you glance back.

He smiles, a tired one, one he always has for you. "Why were you still up?" He changes the question. You take the hint. Laying back down on your pillow that's propped up against the couch. "I wanted to wait for you," you whisper.

The silence is comfortable. Hongjoongs fingers rubbing circles on your ankle. You reach down to grasp his hand, his tired eyes blink back at you. "Lay with me?" You ask, perhaps you shouldn't. But in your sleepy state, you're bold enough to ask, scooting over to make room for him. He doesn't answer but scoots up enough to take the spot next to you. Face to face. "Nightmare?" He asks, as if giving you an excuse, his eyes bore down on yours.

He's so pretty, you think. His eyes are so soft under the darkness. You question if he's one of the prettiest guys you've ever seen, an uncommon trait for alphas. You hum, taking the lie. "Yea"

Your eyelids slink as does his, the rhythmic breathing between you two casts over like a lullaby. Eventually, his arm falls over your hip. Alice In Wonderland playing in the distance, a sound you've gotten used to as you fall into the solitude of sleep.

The next morning, the comfort of the couch is something that you want to fall back into. You want your beauty rest, but the sun keeps beating on your eyelids. You turn in the grasp of the blanket, it has a tight hold, you wiggle to get comfortable.

The fan of someone's breath hits the shell of your ear. Your eye pops up, blinking at the sun coming down on you from the window. You turn to feel the body pressed against your back. Slowly turning so you don't wake them up.

Hongjoongs face is mere centimeters away. His hair falls over his face in waves. You want to reach out and push it away, kiss his eyelids, and touch his face ever so delicately. Your head lays on his arm. Hoongjoongs hoodie rid up his forearm, the scent gland on the bend of his elbow directly in front of you. Hongjoong smells.. like a ripe pear, tahitian vanilla, the heat from the sun, and sweet spices. You nuzzle deeper into his warmth, sighing gently into his chest.

Still foggy from sleep, every second that passes, you fall further into a dream state. Hongjoongs soft and quiet breathing echos in your mind.

Pictures pass in your vision, memories you haven't yet explore dance beyond the border of your sight. You dance silently, following where you lead yourself. Through doors that open without a sound and a floor that is void, your feet patter and swirl like raindrops on water. A distant noise echos. Hands reach out for yours, an assortment of them sticking out from the void and invisible walls that surround you. But you don't reach back. Your movements flow in a rhythm. When you stop to breathe, you sink into the floor. And fall continously. Echos of your struggles and inner thoughts consume you.

You wake up with a shudder, sitting up abruptly. You pat around you, you're in your bed. Hongjoong isn't here. You hope it's not because of what you said. You hope it's not because you made things awkward. You fall back into your comforters, sighing heavily. You stare at the crack in your bedroom door, watching figures pass and go. They block out the sun. The first to stop in the twenty minutes of you staring is Jongho. He pushes your door open softly. Two solid knocks hit your door.

"Want to get some breakfast?" He leans in, jongho is already dressed and ready. You hope he was waiting for you to wake up and ask you to tag along. You smile. "Yes"

The walk is brisk, just down the street to the coffee shop you visit most often in the morning. Jongho holds the door open for you, and you thank him. The smell of coffee hits you straight on. A pleasant surprise that makes your stomach grumble. Your mask stays put on your face, as does jonghos. Your arm wraps around his, a subconscious thing on your part. He doesn't pull away.

The line isn't long. A few stand around, picking and choosing their order. Many of the seats are taken. Chatter echoes in the large shop. "The usual?" Jongho nudges you, pulling your attention from the crowded strangers. He takes the lead compared to when you always do, you don't fight him about ordering like you usually would. "You know it," you smile, although you know the mask will block it. His eyes pull up, and you can tell he's smiling back.

You're compliant to the way he orders everyone's breakfast and drinks, something jongho finds strange for your behavior but boosts his ego a bit. You tell him the rest of the orders he forgets, leaning up to whisper it in his ear. He leans down and meets you halfway, so you aren't straining your still healing ankle. His hand falls to your mid back, steadying you.

"That's it, Thank you."

You lean up against the free space in the waiting area. Propping yourself up against the cold stone wall. This area is just as busy. You know the order will be a while. Jongho takes the spot next to you. Bumping shoulders. "How's your elbow?" He touches your arm gently.

You look down at it, a distant memory compared to the week you've had. "It's fine, it wasn't that bad." You shrug it off.

"If it wasn't, why were you in the hospital for a week?"

A lump forms in your throat. You advert your eyes to anything else. "I.. they wanted to run tests." That catches him off guard. "Tests? What for?" He leans on his shoulder to face you.

"Because i.." swallow the lump, don't word vomit. Please don't word vomit.

"Because I'm a -" ding! "order for Mr. Choi Jong!" Saved by the bell. God, it's so perfectly timed. Jongho stares at you for a second longer, his eyes scan you for answers. Like he's hoping you'll continue. Your mouth is glued. When he adverts his eyes, the emotion that crosses his features is like you did something terrible. He leaves to get the order when you don't look back up at him.

What are you doing? Are you crazy? Your hand falls to your forehead, rubbing the tension away. Jongho is silent the entire walk back. He takes the load of drinks and bags by himself, a few strides ahead. When you offer to help, he pulls away. "It's fine." he simply says. You flinch at his tone.

Just two more weeks.

The second week starts rocky. You haven't talked to yunho since the monitor incident. As well as jongho still being upset at you, hongjoong, avoiding you like the plague, and seonghwa not even giving you the time of day. You don't know what you did.

Your bed feels empty, as does your heart. You toss and turn all night long. Barely able to get any sleep for hours. A knock breaks you out of your tossing and turning habit. "Come in" you turn towards the door.

Mingi stands with his pillow tightly wrapped in his arms. Although childish, you find him cute. "Hey," you push yourself to sit up. He looks shy when he shifts on his feet, rolling his palm over your doorknob. "Can I sleep in here tonight?" He asks, it's mumbled, but you make out what he's asking.

Your lips poke up into a smile. You don't answer, just scooting over to the empty spot you were just upset about. You give him your warm spot instead. He giddily falls atop your spot, snuggly placing his pillow under his head.

"I sleep better in your room," he laughs, his eyes turn into cresents, and you stare at the way his face squishes into the pillow. You gently wiggle off the glasses from his nose, setting them aside on your side table. "It's because my room isn't messy," you snicker lightly.

Mingis whispering voice is just his normal voice, just less loud. You don't mind, though. You give him space. He hardly fits in your bed, yet he says he's the most comfortable in it. You can't tell if he's saying it to make you happy.

Mingi calls your name softly in the dark. "Yeah, mingi?" You whisper back, tucking your arm under your pillow. There's a few seconds of silence. It's uncommon when mingi is around. "I'm sorry again," he says so softly. You sigh. "it wasn't you mingi, you didn't do anything to hurt me that bad.." You close your eyes, excuse.

Excuse.

"...I had to get checked out because of my weird scent change thing going on." It's not true. You're feeling sick from lying so much. He hums. "So I didn't hurt you?" You laugh lightly. "No, min, you didn't hurt me." Your eyelids close. "I would never hurt you on purpose," he slurs in tired words. Your eyebrows furrow.

"I know.." You hear him shuffle closer. He reaches to grab your hand from under the pillow. His grip is soft. Your eyes stay closed.

Is this real?

"I'm here if you ever need anything." his thumb catches yours, intertwining your fingers. You sigh softly.

The amount of lying all week weighs heavy on your shoulders, mingi, who genuinely says what he means, twists your heart between his words. You try to breathe through the sudden sting of tears welling up in your eyes.

"I know." You answer with a shaky breath. You slip your hand out of his, and your world feels as if it's crumbling. Turning on your side away from him.

Just half a week. Half.

It's getting repetitive. Filming for another episode of a variety show you don't care for currently. You just miss your bed. You miss your boys. You miss being normal. You miss not having to hide. You miss being a beta.

"Your turn!" A finger points in your direction. You blink for a few seconds, gathering your wit. "i.. what am I supposed to do?" You laugh to cover the fact you weren't paying attention. The camera shines just out of view.

To keep up with performances, the majority of the boys all yell out the instructions. You get it, just a bit. San and Yeosang are at the top of the tower, having climbed all the way up with their gear.

You have to climb the tower. "Do I have to?" You bounce on your feet anxiously, looking towards the camera. Staff buckle you into your gear, the chatter getting lost whilst you get stuck in your head. You're not a big fan of heights.

You're really not a big fan of heights. You start noticing that when you shuffle across the platform to collect a red scarf. The premise of the game is to collect your color accessories, whilst also not allowed to go back if you miss any. Whatever team gets the most accessories wins. You're on Yeosang and Sans team. Paired in three.

Your rope is tied to san, whose rope is tied to yeosang. You don't think you got the strength in your arms to keep going. You power on anyway. Slipping your hand between spray painted fake rocks and clawing your way up.

Your helmet keeps slipping down your face. Surely, it's unfair that you got a helmet that doesn't even fit you. And dangerous. But mostly unfair.

"You got this!" Sans yell encourages you. You're in a particularly tough spot. You have to reach sideways to grab a pair of red sunglasses. It's the last thing you have to grab to win.

To your left, the blue team, which consists of wooyoung, yunho, and hongjoong, yells to each other. You try to drown it out and focus on your own team.

You just gotta reach over. You wedge yourself as close as you can.

Just reach. You can hear the game hosts encouraging you on, shouts of surprise.

Your fingertips just barely scrape it, almost knocking it off the ledge it's on. You shuffle, your single hand holding onto a rock is getting sweaty. You breath cautiously, reaching out again.

It's so close.

And then you grab it.

Shouts from San and yeosang make you smile. You're proud of yourself. You go to turn back, slipping from your left foot. Oh no. You're slipping, trying to get a solid hold on the rock. You slip the sunglasses on your head, hoping to be able to get your right hand free to grab the ledge.

San and yeosang are only a few feet up, not close enough for you to reach for. You've got to maneuver yourself out of the spot you're in. You don't know if you can. You wiggle and twist your waist, stretching your right arm above you.

Your fingers wiggle to get a good grip on the jagged red rock you grabbed. You're not as muscular as you thought as you try to use your right arm to pull your full body weight further up.

You strain it so, to the point where when you finally get yourself up. You have to shake off the hurt. Just two more rocks. Two more big reaches.

Two seems to appear a lot lately.

Distant shouting of all the teams catch your attention. Wooyoung is gaining speed. He's on his last accessory, a few feet behind you. When he sees you staring, he smirks like a predator, gaining speed.

Your movements are calculated but rushed. You keep pushing the helmet back on your head. The sunglasses slip down over your eyes, somewhat blocking your view. You're sweating bullets at this point.

Yeosangs hand is a saving grace. He pulls you up by your right wrist whilst san pulls your left arm. As soon as you get up, you book it to the table you have to put the accessories on.

Your team wins. Confetti cascades around you. You cheer happily, jumping around and laughing out of breath.

How it feels to be victorious.

You look to yeosang and San. They stare, shocked.

You wipe the sweat off your brow. The sweet scent hitting your nostrils.

Oh no.

You swipe the sweat away as quickly as you can, pulling the roll on bottle out of your pocket. Hurry. You try to twist the top off. Rolling the scent onto your scent glands and over your forehead as much as you can.

It's no doubt in your mind. They smelt your real scent. They know. You don't turn to look. You don't even want to know what they're thinking. Your breathing turns shallow.

Fuck.

Your world is crashing.

This time for real.

You take the emergency stairs. Ignoring the calls of yeosang and san. Stripping the gear off of you as you go. You don't care if you're ruining the victory shot. You just gotta get out of here.

You're wondering the hallways when wooyoung finds you. Hot tears stream down your face. Why are you even crying? You don't know. Maybe you're scared this will change everything. Maybe you're scared you messed up again and ruined it.

Wooyoungs hand is a soft pull to your wrist. You yank yourself out of his grip. Pain flashes his features. He says your name gently. You continue to sob. "What? What now" you huff. Wiping your tears harshly.

"Tell me what's wrong -" "Nothing!" You painfully shout, stepping away from his distressed smell. "Nothing is wrong. Nothing is ever wrong." You laugh at your situation. Wooyoungs hand clenches in the air. His hair falls over his eyes messily. He's still in the outfit he was wearing for the game, minus the gear. It's as if he came looking straight for you.

Just for you.

Wooyoungs mouth falls open and close. You dont think about whether or not he has something to say. You don't want to even look. "Just go away, please"

Wooyoung face is painted in pain. You know he doesn't know what to do. Doesn't know how to react. "Omega, please." he whispers.

Your sobs stop. Your tear stained face whips around, and your shocked face is evidence you weren't expecting that.

His tongue pokes the inside of his cheek. "We need to talk," he sighs, allowing him to walk up. He takes your wrists in his hands gently. His thumb rubs soothing circles on your wrists.

Silently, tears stream. You don't have the energy to pull away.

You ruined everything. They know.

A/n; cliff hanger bc my phone is glitching out BAD. IM SORRY! hopefully, the two chapts will make up for it. Thanks for all the support ♡.

Taglist: @lelaleleb @bratty-tingz @0325tiny @smilefordongil @atinytinaa @unripeapple7 @ja3hwa @stopeatread (thanks for your support ♡)

592 notes · View notes

http-angelite · 1 year

Text

♡ sitting next to him in class ♡

characters: Kenny, Kyle, Butters (all aged 16-17)

Kenny . ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

he goofs off during class pretty often. he has a hard time paying attention to teachers talking monotonously about subjects he doesn't give a shit about.

he doesn't get very good sleep at home, and since he gets bored in class easily, it's not uncommon for him to fall asleep at his desk.

when he wakes up, he'll ask you about what he missed. you make sure to take more detailed notes during the lessons he sleeps through so that you can explain it to him later. he greatly appreciates this.

"you got the notes? thanks, you're the best!"

he's distracts you during class sometimes. he's gotten pretty good at it. does it intentionally sometimes so he can giggle at the cute faces you make when you're frustrated.

also tries to make you laugh if he feels like he has nothing better to do, and there is nothing better than hearing you laugh, especially when he's the reason for it.

he'll whisper jokes or funny comments to you about things going on in the classroom.

texts you during class and tells you to check your phone if you don't do so right away. most of the time, he's sending you memes.

draws little penises or boobs on sticky notes and shows them to you, giggling like a kid, laughing when you roll your eyes.

you started bringing snacks for him since you found out how little he is able to eat due to his parents being poor. now he occasionally asks you if you have food if you haven't already given him some that day.

"did you bring food today? you did? :0 my favorite!"

looks to you for help if the teacher calls on him and he doesn't know the answer.

his desk is always so messy, papers and writing tools always scattered across it. he'll sometimes put a couple things on your desk, asking you to hold them so he knows where they are, and he has little room left on his.

he'll take off his parka and hand it to you, without a word, if he notices you getting cold.

if you tell him that you're struggling with a certain subject, he'll do his best to genuinely pay attention during those lessons, sometimes even taking notes, so that he might be able to help you with it.

most of the time, however, it's you helping him with work. he finds things easier to understand when you explain them to him, mainly because he actually likes listening to you talk about anything.

sometimes asks you for help just so you'll talk to him. you're so patient when he doesn't understand something, and you smile so sweetly when he gets answers right, telling him he's doing a good job.

asks to borrow things from you everyday, things like notebook paper, but mainly pencils. it's not that he doesn't bring pencils tho, he does, they just all seem to evaporate into thin air every time he puts them down.

Kyle . ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

one of the only students that actually pays attention in class.

he makes sure you pay attention to, especially if he knows you struggle with the subject being explained. he'll tap you on the arm and point to the examples and notes being written on the board.

will wake you up if you fall asleep. this slightly annoys you depending on how tired you are, but you know he means well. he just doesn't want you to fail.

because if you fail and have to retake classes next year, you won't be in the same classes as him :(

occasionally lets you sleep if he knows you aren't resting enough at home, but not without mentioning it to you the next time you ask him what you missed.

"maybe you'd know if you hadn't fallen asleep."

he may feign annoyance, but he actually likes it when you ask him for help. he thinks it's cute the way you bite your lip and push you hair behind your ears, keeping it from obscuring the view of your assignments, while trying to focus.

he doesn't like letting anyone copy off of him, but if you're having a particularly hard time understanding how to do something, he'll give you answers. however, he will make you study whatever was confusing you with him later.

"you still don't get it? :/ here, it's okay, just write this down and i'll help you understand it more later."

the only time he ever gets on his phone during class is when you get on you're phone during class. he only does so to text you to tell you to get off your phone.

sometimes you'll make funny or sarcastic comments during class and he'll stifle a laugh while jokingly telling you to shut up.

he brings extra supplies to school in case you forget anything, which you often do.

he'll sometimes glance over at you while you're working and smile, admiring you for just a moment.

likes doing group/partner projects with you. he often doesn't like doing them with other people, since others tend not to listen to him or pull their weight. gets slightly frustrated if students don't get to pick partners and he isn't paired with you.

doesn't participate in passing notes, but he loves when you hand him little sticky notes with hearts and sweet messages. they never fail to make him smile, and he keeps every single one of them.

if you do your best to be a responsible student like he does, then you guys probably won't interact much during class, except for the occasional laugh when another student says something funny.

if he sees you eating in class without permission he'll act like it personally offends him.

"are you seriously eating that in class? you know you're not allowed to have food. no i don't want any!"

if you tend more to slack off in school, then he's definitely a good influence. most teachers put your seats next to each other intentionally, hoping that he'll inspire you to work harder, which he does.

sometimes he helps you so much that you swear you'd be failing without him

Butters . ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

he's a pretty good student, and does his best to pay attention in class, but he sometimes gets distracted easily.

he especially loses focus when he looks over at you. from where you sit, the light hits you at the perfect angle, making you look like you're glowing.

makes cute little drawings on sticky notes and gives them to you. sometimes he draws animals, but he mostly makes doodles of you, or the two of you together.

sometimes he'll add little hearts and loving notes. and you, of course, keep all of them.

you have one of the both of you holding hands, one of him as a knight and you as a princess, one of you with pretty flowers in your hair, and so many more.

"look! it's us :D i drew you with wings because you're an angel."

writes "my love" or "my favorite person" on them with arrows pointing to you <3

he's not quite as sharp as kyle, but he does his best to help you wherever you need it, answering any questions you have to the best of his ability.

you always make him want to do his best, so he works pretty hard to be a better student when you're around. you inspire him to be the best version of himself, because you deserve the best.

gets absolutely no work done when you miss class. he tries to listen so that he can help you catch up when he gets back, but he's too busy pouting and worrying about you.

the only time he'll get on his phone during class is to text you while you're gone to check up on you. he always wants to make sure you're okay.

only ever wants to work on group/partner projects with you. no one else is quite as kind or patient with him as you are.

wants to cry if the teacher assigns partners and doesn't put you two together. but the teachers notice how much better he does and how much happier he seems when he works with you, so it rarely happens.

the teachers think you guys are just the cutest! they appreciate how much you both try to help each other. you both help the other do their best.

he brings little candies and sweet treats to school with him and offers them to you and only you. if someone asks him for one, he has a hard time saying no, but he'll only give them one. you, on the other hand, can have as many as you want.

"y/n, i brought lollipops! would you like one? I got lots of cherry ones because i know they're your favorite."

pays extra attention and takes extra detailed notes so he can show them to you if you happen to fall asleep in class. he doesn't have the heart to wake you up when you look so peaceful.

most of his pens and pencils have cute cartoon animals, like hello kitty, on them. he'll let you borrow the cute ones if you ask, but if someone else asks, he'll give them one of his few normal, boring ones.

ty for reading! i am v new to writing and posting on tumblr so let me know if you have any tips or critiques abt my works :)

#sp x reader #south park x reader #south park x y/n #kyle broflovski x reader #sp kyle x reader #kenny mccormick x reader #sp kenny x reader #butters stotch x reader #butters x reader

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friendly-neighborhood-boricua · 9 months

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Squint And You'll See It

Summary: Sirius and his potions partner are trying to brew Polyjuice Potion for class, and he can't seem to figure out why she won't wear her glasses.

Notes: Sirius Black x shy!reader. All fluff, really. This is the most self-indulgent thing I've ever written. I'm weirdly self-conscious about the sounds I make, how loud they are, if they could annoy/distract people, etc. so I wrote this just to comfort myself about it lol. I ended up using Y/N a bunch because using too many pronouns in a row makes my brain bristle so oh well. Still though, this is the sweetest thing I think I've ever written. Enjoy! <3

Y/N squinted up at the blackboard as Slughorn collected the class’s attention once again, and Sirius just about melted. The all-too-familiar scrunch in her nose and the crease between her brows gave him more comfort than he probably should have taken from her struggles to see the properties of Chinese Chomping Cabbage from so far back in the classroom. After an especially rapid flurry of blinking, she scribbled a couple notes on her parchment before fisting her knuckles in her eyes tiredly.

Sirius nudged her gently. As if it wasn’t already, the honey-doe eyes she gave him had his heart overflowing with a plush fondness.

“Your glasses, love,” he whispered, nodding to her book bag, which hung off of the back of her chair. Y/N looked at it, then blinked twice. The glasses were a new and quite helpful development—one she hadn’t quite gotten into the habit of using yet. She eyed the bag again.

“I’m alright,” she whispered back and returned to her notes.

Sirius frowned. “You sure?”

She nodded, giving him a light smile.

Sirius frowned slightly but returned to his notes when Slughorn chided him for having his eyes elsewhere. But how could he be blamed? Only a madman would rather learn about ingredients than watch her.

For a surprisingly long while, Sirius managed to stay focused on his notes, sometimes copying Remus’s, who sat on his right side, and only occasionally sneaking glances at Y/N, who sat on his left. After what felt like an eternity, Slughorn finally let the pair work on their Polyjuice Potion at a work table in the far back of the classroom. Sirius had come down with a nasty case of spattergroit several weeks previous and missed a week and a half of the brewing process. Unfortunately, Y/N had missed several days herself due to a family matter (now resolved with nothing to worry about, she had assured Sirius countless times), ending in the complete devastation of their original Polyjuice batch. And so, Y/N, unwilling to take a bad mark, and Sirius, ready to do just about anything to keep spending time with her, decided to make another batch.

“Do you want to gather the ingredients or shall I?” she asked as Sirius scooted his stool closer to hers (to better reach the cauldron, of course).

“I can get the ingredients,” he said, flashing what he hoped was his most charming smile, and she blushed.

“Alright, I’ll, erm … I’ll work out our next instructions …” Sirius nodded as Y/N fell into her reading, smiling to himself as her brows furrowed once again to scan the page.

Sirius skirted the classroom towards ingredient shelves, passing by James, Peter, and Remus, who all raised their brows at him with smirks. He simply rolled his eyes, rummaging through the shelves until he had gathered the correct ingredients. But when he turned around, ready to make his way back to Y/N and their Polyjuice Potion, he was met with a horrible sight: Remus, holding a tight-lipped frown in a near-futile attempt to ward off a smile, Peter, doubled over with laughing cramps, and James, turned around in his chair and arms wrapped around himself, raking them up and down his back in a sultry fashion as he pretended to make out with someone.

With a peeved sigh, Sirius chucked a bundle of knotgrass at James, seed pods bursting and small nettle-like seeds clinging to James's hair. Of course, the three burst into peals of raucous laughter. Sirius groaned, and quickly made his way back to the back work table as Slughorn chastised the rest of them.

“Sirius, are you alright? You’re looking a bit … erm, warm.”

Sirius’s ears burned even hotter, and his eyes flew to examine the grout between the floor tiles.

“Yeah, yeah, ‘m perfect, lovie.” He set down his armful of glass jars and clay bowls, trying desperately to change the subject. “Found what we’ve got to do yet?”

“Mhm,” she hummed. “Just here, it says we must add three bits of boomslang skin—”

“Got that here.”

“—crush the bicorn horn and add that—”

“Got that as well.”

“—and then there are some cooking instructions, but we can cross that bridge when we come to it.”

“Sounds good to me, love.” Sirius smiled warmly.

The two worked in harmony, Y/N checking and double-checking that she was measuring everything correctly and Sirius adding the ingredients once she had prepared them. The two worked in sweet, warm peace, managing only one easily-averted disaster, all while keeping quiet as Slughorn continued to teach the rest of the class. There was a strange sort of domesticity to it that made Sirius’s heart skip beats, and he imagined himself with Y/N in their future home, huddled around a cauldron and brewing something to keep them warm on a Siberian night—

“How long should it be at a high temperature again?” Sirius asked, forcing himself from his daydreaming and adding the crushed bicorn horn.

“Erm …” Y/N’s nose practically brushed the page with how closely she peered at the instructions. With the smallest sound of annoyance Sirius had ever heard, her head moved to allow her eyes to travel along the far wall, where a dozen or so posters displayed recipes for a variety of potions. She sighed lightly, squinting heard and pushing herself on tiptoe (as if it would help).

“Use your glasses, love,” Sirius suggested but was quickly brushed off.

“‘M fine, really,” Y/N murmured, eyes still squinting.

“Sweetheart,” the word caught Y/N’s attention, and she fell back onto her heels, eyes barely meeting Sirius’s before drilling into the bubbling cauldron, “you’ll give yourself a migraine. Use your glasses.” Y/N glanced uneasily from Sirius to her bag on the back of her chair and back. Sirius’s brows furrowed. “What is it, love?”

Y/N shook her head. “Nothing, it’s nothing.”

“Then … wear your glasses,” Sirius reasoned, and she let out a little huff. “Why don’t you want to wear them, lovie?”

“It’s not that I don’t want to wear them, it’s just …” Sirius watched her with soft, almost concerned eyes.

Y/N sighed, pushing herself onto the stool with knees pressed together. The thought was silly, but she had known Sirius long enough to know he wasn’t going to let this go.

“The buckle on the bag, it’s …” Sirius’s knee knocked gently against hers. “It’s loud—it clatters about when I open it. Catches people’s attention. And my glasses are in the bag, so if I open the bag, people will stare, and then people stare at me when I have my glasses on anyway—not that I’m not grateful for the glasses! They’re a great help for seeing the board during cl—”

Sirius couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle, and he almost felt bad at the pout Y/N dealt in return. “First of all, love, people stare at you and your glasses because you look fucking divine when you wear them. I should know.” He brushed her arm playfully with his, and she flushed a brilliant shade of red-pink. “And second, no one thinks anything about your loud bag buckles, I promise.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “I just—I don't want to disrupt them is all …”

Sirius chuckled again, but still, Y/N didn't make a move for her bag. It took only a moment and a half of contemplation before Sirius burst into the most fake-sounding fit of coughs ever created in the history of this Earth. Nearly the entire class turned to stare at him as he seemingly hacked up a lung, and he hung himself dramatically off of the table’s edge to play it up just that little bit more.

“Mr. Black, are you quite alright?” Professor Slughorn asked, eyes slightly wide with concern.

“Y-yes, Pro—” Sirius coughed a dozen more times, discretely winking at Y/N, who seemed to get the point and quietly retrieved her glasses from her bag. Not a soul noticed.

#sirius black x you #sirius x y/n #sirius x you #marauders era #sirius black fluff #sirius x reader #sirius black x y/n #sirius black x reader #sirius black x shy!reader #sirius fluff

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jasonsmirrorball · 7 months

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OCTOBER 14: IN DREAMS I FIND YOU JASON TODD

kinktober prompt: somnophilia | kinktober masterlist

synopsis. jason returns home from patrol. what's a man to do when you're lying there so pretty? you'll let him make you feel good, won't you, baby?

cw: f!reader, slight dubcon, brief dry humping, cunnilingus, praise minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact

Jason enters the apartment a little after three in the morning. You’ve left the light above the stove on for him, and where the sight would usually bring some comfort, there’s an itch under his skin that takes precedence. His gear is heavier tonight, clicking as he storms through the living space.

He finds you in the bedroom. The sight of you curled up eases some of the burn in his chest but it’s soon stoked once more, green haze clouding the corners of his vision as his gaze traces your sleeping form.

The lavender cotton of your sleep shorts flutters in the moonlight–how many times has he told you to close that damned window when you go to bed? In the morning, he’ll have to remind you about it. Right now. Jason is more concerned with the expanse of skin your attire bares to his eyes, drinking in the sight of your legs, the slouch of your tank top across your shoulders, material riding up as you twist yourself around his pillow. Even from the doorway, he can see the sliver of your stomach, the press of your nipples against your top.

You let out a murmur in your sleep and his breath catches, familiarity leaving him tuned in to your every noise and movement. His cock throbs beneath his clothes. He’s dying for it. He wants nothing more than to cross the room in two short strides and drop to his knees, to pull those damn shorts down and press his nose between your legs and–

He has more self control than that. Slowly, methodically, he removes his gear, utility belt set on the floor of the wardrobe where he’ll more than likely forget about it until he wakes the next afternoon and stubs his toe. The blood on the hem of his pants is a problem for later, too–you’ve rolled over onto your stomach and his jaw tightens at the sight.

So pretty, and splayed out as if in offering for him. He’d be a fool not to appreciate you.

It’s been a long night. Jason has spent the most of it in and out of buildings he has no business being near, casing out warehouses and drilling understanding into the denizens of Gotham’s back alleys that when he gave an order, they were to follow it to the letter. He has little taste for the stupidity of the crime lords, of the drug lords who strive to test his patience. He bears it better, usually, but tonight his self control runs thin, and all the violence has left him wanting to whet his appetite with something else.

He stalks forward, feet heavy against the hardwood, pressing a knee into the mattress and leaning over until he’s got you caged beneath him, nose pressed to your neck. He can smell the lingering scent of your shampoo, and when his tongue darts forward from between his lips, he can taste the barest hints of salt on your skin. Summer leaves you warm, always throwing the covers aside when you get too hot, and Jason finds himself grateful for it when his hands paw at the flimsy fabric of your sleeping clothes–thin, stretchy material that leaves little to the imagination.

He should feel lecherous, slipping a hand beneath your stomach to grope at the softness of your breasts, dragging his mouth along the curve of your shoulder and letting his teeth graze your skin. But he can’t find it in himself, not when you press back against him so sweetly, seeking him out even in your dreams. When you shiver, he lets out a hoarse laugh.

“Hi, sweet girl,” he whispers into your skin. “‘M home. Missed you so bad, sweetheart, can you feel it?”

He pushes his hips against your ass, rocking ever so slightly into you and groaning when you shift, letting out a sleepy sigh.

“Thought of you all night,” he mumbles. “Wish I could’ve just stayed with you–I kept thinkin’ about this afternoon, wanted to tell everyone t’go home so I could get back to my girl…make you scream so loud, baby.”

He thinks of you, ribboned in afternoon sun, head thrown back. The image of you had refused to leave his mind, sun warmed and bare and all fucking his. Your pretty little moans ringing in his ears as he’d gritted orders through his teeth. He’d felt the bite of of your nails in his back with every step he took, clothes scraping against the marks you’d left on him.

A puff of air escapes your lips and you sink further into the mattress. Jason leaves a litter of kisses across your shoulder and neck, shuffling until he’s kneeled between your legs, nosing at your thighs.

“Shit, baby,” he rasps, a whimper caught in his throat. “Promise I’ll be good, ‘m gonna make you feel so good, doll–need you so fuckin’ bad…”

He maneuvers you onto your back, shorts coming off in a single tug before he’s pressing his mouth to the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, just a few inches south of where he intends to be. He laves at the skin, no care for form tonight, drunk on the scent of you through the cotton panties you’ve worn to bed tonight.

You stir, and Jason grins into your thigh when he sees your lashes beginning to flutter, lips drawing into a confused pout when he trails a finger over the seam of your panties, ghosting over where your heat seeps through.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he chuckles, nosing at the crease of your thigh. His other hand grips your thigh, pulling it up and over his shoulder. “Gonna let me make you feel good?”

“Jason…” you whisper, voice cracking with sleep. He can see your eyes are still clouded over, and you whimper when he bites–only gently, he’d never want to hurt you.

(Not unless you asked him to, but that’s by the by)

“My pretty baby,” he murmurs huskily, licking the spot better, tongue flicking over the indentation of his teeth. The sight of it only stokes the growing need under his skin, and he’s flicking his eyes up to you. “Need to taste you so bad, angel.”

Your fingers sink into his hair and he grins, not bothering with removing your panties, simply tugging them to the side before pressing the flat of his tongue against your pussy. He revels in the lurch of your back, pain sparking at his scalp where your grip on his hair tightens but it only shoots straight to his cock and he finds himself bucking against the mattress in an effort to relieve the strain.

“Baby, I–” you gasp, and he groans, gripping your thigh tighter. He feels like a fucking animal, slobbering all over you with no method or ceremony, tongue tracing patterns around your clit as you cry out.

He feasts himself on you, spit mixing with your slick as you writhe under his tongue, sleepy moans tumbling from your lips as you roll your hips upward. He’s in no better shape, steadily approaching his high from how pent up he’s been all evening, every single sound you make shooting straight to his cock. But he’s determined to please you first, lips closing around your clit and meeting your half lidded eyes as he sucks hard.

You fall apart in seconds, voice pitching and back arching over him. He thinks it’s glorious to behold. Your face crumples and twists, and he thinks it’s the sexiest thing he’s ever seen. He follows not long after, spilling into his briefs as he tongue fucks you through your orgasm.

In the aftermath, you cradle his head in your palms and he follows your touch, rising and becoming distinctly aware of the stickiness in his underwear but you pull him in for a kiss and he files it away for later. He clings to you, slumping against you when you let him go, with his head pressed to your stomach. Your hand finds its way to his hair once more, nails scraping against his scalp in recurring movements that make his eyelids flutter.

this concept has been plaguing me since mid september and all the way through my midterm assignments. i sat down every single day to get work done and i was like...jason...coming home from patrol to love on you...anyway. this isn't as long as the first kinktober fic but that i hope u enjoyed this regardless. may we all have our vigilante anti hero boyfriends return home to us after patrol, eager to please and needy for us!

#banner by shoujo-dreamland #mdni banner by benkeibear #jason todd imagine #jason todd smut #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd x reader #ro's kinktober '23 #kinktober 2023 #jasonsmirrorball #jay my heart

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yxngbxkkie · 9 months

Text

too hot (hyung line)

i've never played this game, but i would like to play with them. it'd be interesting for sure 🤭 anyway, i hope you enjoy this steamy lil thing 🥰

feedback is greatly appreciated 💓

bang chan

"Are we really going to play this?" Chan asks as the two of you sit on your king-sized bed.

You smirk at him, placing your hands behind your back. "Worried you'll lose?" You question instead.

He stares at you for a moment, noticing his tongue poke against his cheek. Chan says nothing else as he quickly seats himself in front of you.

"Love you," you whisper to him before connecting your lips with his.

You both let out a moan, and Chan kisses you back. You clench your hands behind your back, resisting the urge to touch him. Chan slips his tongue past your lips, tangling itself with yours.

Another moan escapes you, internally cursing at yourself. How can I be this weak?! You think while pulling away from him. Both of you are breathing heavily, and you avoid his gaze.

"Why aren't you looking at me, pretty?" Chan asks in a seductive tone, dipping his head down to catch your eyes. "Worried you'll lose?"

You lift your head when he uses your words against you. You squint your eyes, giving him a playful glare. "I won't lose," you mutter loud enough for him to hear.

Chan doesn't get the chance to respond when your lips find his again. You instantly deepen the kiss, nibbling on his bottom lip. Chan moans into the kiss and wiggles in his spot.

You move the kiss down his jaw, and a curse leaves your boyfriend's lips left and right. "This is cheating," he grumbles, trying his best to kiss you again.

"I'm not touching you," you say against his neck, smirking a bit. "And, I'm still kissing you."

He hums and swiftly leans back, readjusting to kiss your lips. Chan bites your lips before slipping his tongue back into your mouth. Your heart flutters in your chest, and the amount of intimacy you're receiving starts to throw you off.

The past couple of weeks, Chan's been extremely busy with the company, with their upcoming comeback around the corner. It's actually the first time the two of you have been able to see each other.

Your urge to touch him grows more and more, finding yourself starved of his love. You shift your legs so you're kneeling instead, kissing him feverishly.

"I've missed your lips, pretty," Chan whispers into the kiss, pulling back for a quick second.

You nod your head as you kiss him again, instinctively bringing your hands to his cheeks. Chan giggles as you cave much earlier than he thought you would. He brings one of his hands to the back of your head, gently tugging your hair back.

"Baby…" you trail off, your eyes fluttering shut as you lightly moan. Chan presses a couple of sloppy kisses on your neck before completely pulling away.

"You lost, pretty."

You groan and rest your forehead against his shoulder. "Don't remind me," you mutter as Chan moves you to sit on his lap. "I realized we haven't been intimate in two weeks, and I couldn't stop myself."

He gives you a pout, and he taps his thumb on your bottom lip. "I'm sorry I've been so busy. I worked extra hard to get these next three days off," Chan explains with a smile, his dimples indenting in his cheeks.

"I love you so much," you tell him, smiling softly.

"I love you too, pretty," he whispers. His hands slide around your waist, and he rests them on the tops of your ass cheeks. "Are you ready to do anything for me?"

You chuckle and bite your lips. "I'm always ready to do anything for you, Channie," you seductively tell him, leaning forward to nudge your nose with his.

He almost growls as he tightens his grip on you, swiftly flipping the two of you over. A gasp leaves your lips as your back is pressed against the mattress. "I want you to lay here," Chan says against your skin, his lips trailing down the valley of your breasts, "and let me show you how much I love you, mkay?"

A shudder runs down your spine, his dark eyes looking at you through his lashes. You nod your head in answer, not trusting your voice.

"Words, pretty. I need to hear you say it," he grins, his free hand pushing your tank top upwards.

"Y-Yes," you stutter as one of your hands grip his forearm. "Please."

Chan smiles at you while pushing the top over your chest, exposing your breasts. "Oh, I like when you beg for me. So pretty," he teases before taking a nipple into his mouth.

lee minho

Minho pulls you into the bedroom before seating you on the floor. You sit down with a confused look on your face, watching as he goes to close the door.

"Baby, what are we doing?" You ask in laughter. Minho sits down across from you, placing his hands in his lap.

"I want to play too hot with you," he says nonchalantly, leaning his body forward slightly.

Your eyes widen at his idea. "I - This is embarrassing, but what is that?" You question him with flushed cheeks.

"No fucking way," Minho mumbles while straightening his posture. "You've never played it before?"

"Baby," you whine, shoving your face into your hands. "You were my first kiss. I'm clearly not cultured."

Minho laughs before grabbing your face, lifting your chin. "Then let me teach you, sweetness," he whispers, kissing your lips after.

You bring your hands to his thighs, slipping your fingers underneath his shorts. When he pulls away from you, you chase after him with a small whine.

"So, the premise of too hot is to kiss one another," he begins to explain, kissing your lips once again. You hum in delight, liking the sound of it. Minho gently grabs a hold of your hands, removing them from his body. "But, we're not allowed to touch."

You abruptly pull back, pouting at him. "No touching?!" You ask him, grabbing the hem of your zip up sweater. "You know I like touching."

He smirks while you continue to complain and squirm in your spot. "That's the fun of it, sweetness. Both of us will be riled up, and then whoever loses will do whatever the winner wants," Minho explains the rest of the game.

You look into his eyes before leaning in to kiss him. You move your hands behind your back and lace your fingers together. He hums into the kiss and pulls back for a few seconds.

"Stop pulling away from me," you whisper, reconnecting your lips.

Minho giggles and deepens the kiss. Both of you lean into one another as his tongue glides along your bottom lip. You let him past your lips, his tongue fighting with yours.

"Fuck," he groans after breaking the kiss. Heavy breaths leave both of your lips, feeling yourself becoming aroused. Minho bites your lip while keeping his eyes on you.

"Can I kiss other places?" You ask him curiously, placing a few kisses on his jawline.

"As long as you're kissing me, it counts," he sighs, rolling his eyes back a bit.

You mumble incoherently as your kisses grow sloppy. You kiss beneath his ear, a place you know he loves. "Sweetness," Minho moans into your ear, causing your heart to flutter.

You pull back to look in his eyes, seeing the cloud of lust in them. They drift down to your lips, and he leans forward to kiss you. His lips travel down your neck quickly, feeling his teeth nip at you every few seconds.

"Fuck, this game is crazy," you moan out, tilting your head to give Minho more room.

"End it for me," he says against the column of your neck.

You shake your head, squeezing your eyes shut. "Never," you breathlessly mutter.

Minho leans forward more, causing you to fall onto your back. His hands rest on either side of your head, his lips finding their way back to yours. You can hear his fingers dig into the carpet, knowing he won't be able to resist much longer.

You lean up, slipping your tongue past his lips. It quickly turns into a steamy makeout session as Minho slides his hand underneath your neck, pulling you closer to him.

You smirk into the kiss, and you pull back. "I won," you simply say, grinning widely.

"Yeah, yeah, shut up," he mutters before kissing you once more.

Giggles escape your lips, and you lift your hips, removing your hands from behind your back. Your hands find their way into his hair, combing through it gently.

"I don't have self-control when it comes to you," Minho confesses, the tips of his ears turning red. "I want to touch you all the time."

"Well, you might just get your wish, baby," you tell him while stroking his cheeks. His eyes meet yours as you move one of your hands to grab his.

He shifts his weight, moving to lay beside you while you bring his hand to your chest. Minho licks his lips, squeezing your breast in his hand.

"I want you to touch me, Min," you whisper to him, looking up at him.

"I got you," he mumbles and reconnects your lips, sliding his hand down your torso.

seo changbin

"Chan is going to kill us," you whisper to your boyfriend. Changbin drags you into Chan's room before locking the door.

He presses himself against the door, releasing a sigh of relief. "He can deal with it later. Especially when one of his friends is fucking in my room," Changbin rolls his eyes while walking towards you.

You sit on the edge of Chan's bed, looking up at your muscular man. His gaze meets yours, and you grin. "Have I told you that you look handsome tonight?" You flirt with him, spreading your legs so he can stand between them.

Changbin rests his hands on your shoulders, rubbing gently. "You've mentioned it a couple of times. But, I'll gladly hear it again," he boasts cutely.

"You're so handsome, Binnie," you remind him, and he leans down to kiss your lips.

You do your best to meet him halfway, lifting yourself slightly. He deepens the kiss instantly, slipping his tongue past your lips. A hum leaves your throat, bringing your hands to his biceps.

"You wanna play a game?" Changbin whispers into the kiss, pulling back to look down at you.

He grabs your hands, tugging you up from the bed. "And what game is that Seo Changbin?" You ask curiously, lacing your fingers with his.

"Too hot," he answers you, leaning forward to brush his nose along yours. "Have you ever played?"

"I've played it once or twice, yeah," you giggle, wrapping your conjoined hands around your waist. "You think you can win?"

Changbin scoffs at your question. "You think you can win?!" He counters your question, and you raise a brow.

"Bet, baby," you scrunch your nose, leaning on your toes to kiss him. He releases your hands, both of you moving them behind your backs as the game instantly starts.

His tongue battles yours for dominance, moans slipping past your lips. You break the kiss, making Changbin whine lightly. Your eyes look over his face as he keeps his close, expecting you to reconnect your lips.

"You're such a simp for me," you smirk.

Changbin's eyes slowly open, and you notice the lust filling them. "Like you're not a simp for me," he whispers, leaning back in.

You giggle, not denying him as your lips find him again. The kiss gets steamy real quick, moans coming from both of your lips. He abruptly breaks the kiss, trailing his lips down your jaw.

"Fuck, I love you," he whispers along your skin.

"I love you, Binnie," you sigh. You bite your lip as you dig your nails into the palm of your hand. "I love you so much."

"Gonna marry me?" He asks, bringing his lips back to yours. "Hm?"

Your eyes flutter shut at the question as your heart pounds against your chest. "Of course," you tell him, kissing his lips a few times.

Changbin smiles at you, bringing his hands to your face. His eyes widen at his actions, quickly pulling his hands away. "Wait!" He almost shrieks, causing you to back up.

"You lose! You're so soft for me, baby," you smirk at him, continuing to tease him.

"I hate you," he groans, tilting his head back.

A chuckle leaves your lips as you bring one of your hands to his chest. "Are you sure about that? You just said you want to marry me," you say to him, gliding the palm of your hand up and down his pecs.

He licks his lips and meets your gaze. "I do want to marry you," Changbin sighs, resting his forehead against yours. "What are your demands, Miss?"

"Hm," you drag out, tapping your fingers on your chin. "Take this weekend off so we can go somewhere… just the two of us."

Changbin shakes his head, smiling softly. "I'll talk to Chan and management," he tells you before kissing you.

"Great," you whisper into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck.

You both pull away when a loud knock echoes from the door. He looks over his shoulder, listening out for whoever knocked.

"Changbin, get out of my room!" Chan yells and your boyfriend rolls his eyes.

hwang hyunjin

"What are we playing?" You ask Hyunjin from your spot on the couch.

Your tall boyfriend sprints across the living room, grabbing the bottle of wine from the counter in the kitchen. "Too hot," he says with a grin, opening the wine.

"Really?" You laugh, shaking your head as you watch him pour the white wine into your glass. "Isn't that game for like… teenagers?"

"Please," Hyunjin says while side eyeing you, filling his glass. "Adults can play!"

"Not many do," you snort, slipping your hands underneath your ass. "But, since you're so cute, I'll play."

He grins at you before taking a sip of the wine. "You're already ready for it," Hyunjin points out with a smirk, motioning towards your covered hands.

You watch him sit back down on the couch, turning himself to the side. He faces you before scooting a bit closer so he can kiss you.

"Ready, lover boy?" You ask him as he moves his hands behind his back.

"As ready as I'll ever be," he grins, leaning forward to kiss you.

When his plump lips meet yours, your eyes flutter shut. God, he's an amazing kisser. You think to yourself while kissing him back. His long hair tickles your face, causing you to break the kiss.

"You're tickling me," you pout at him, wiggling your crossed legs.

Hyunjin chuckles and reaches for the hair tie that sits on the coffee table. He quickly puts it up in a low ponytail before leaning back in. You whisper a thank you and reconnect your lips with his.

You lift yourself from the cushions a bit, deepening the kiss. Hyunjin gently bites your bottom lip before slipping his tongue into your mouth. A moan escapes you, the two of you battling for dominance.

He abruptly breaks the kiss, moving his head back. He smirks at you as you follow, desperately wanting your lips back on his.

"Hyune," you trail off, slowly opening your eyes.

"Shit, you're cute," your boyfriend groans, pressing a light kiss on you. He kisses you shortly a couple of more times before cursing again. "I love your lips."

You grin against his lips when he kisses you once more. "I love your lips, too."

Hyunjin travels down your neck, planting sloppy kisses along the way. "This game is dangerous," he sighs.

"You wanted to play," you giggle and tilt your head to the side, giving him more access. You subconsciously move your hands out from underneath you, laying them on the nape of his neck.

Your eyes are shut when you feel him smirk against your neck. "I didn't think you'd cave first, angel," he whispers into your ear, biting down on the lobe.

A gasp leaves your lips, quickly taking your hands off him. "Shit, no!" You groan, shoving your face into your hands.

Hyunjin laughs some more, leaning away to drink some wine. "It's okay, angel. I was very close to losing," he pets the back of your head. "I already know what I want you to do."

You lift your head, meeting his gaze. "And what's that?" You ask him.

"I want to paint you… nude," he mentions with a light blush, his eyes roaming down your body.

"Oh," you mumble, feeling your cheeks warming. "Okay. Paint me like one of your French girls."

Hyunjin giggles at your comment, shaking his head afterward. "I don't have a French girl. I just have you," he grins.

tagging: @thewxntersoldier @reddesert-healourblues @spacegirlstuff @moon0fthenight @like-a-diamondinthesky

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lecsainz · 1 year

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Hey sweetie! Can I request something about prom proposal with Ollie Bearman?

I don't wanna dance if I'm not dancing with you

pairings: ollie bearman x fem!gf!reader

summary: ollie does everything to invite you to prom in person and be able to go to prom with you.

authors note: I don't know if this is how you wanted it, but I thought and thought about how to make a prom proposal and nothing came to mind. I hope you like it 🙃

word count: 2.2K

Late one evening, as Ollie sat in his hotel room, his phone buzzed with an incoming call. He picked it up to see Y/N's name flashing on the screen. With a smile, he answered the call, knowing that their conversations were always filled with excitement and joy.

"Hey, babe!" Y/N's voice bubbled with enthusiasm. "Guess what? I just bought the most amazing prom dress! It's this stunning gown that I know you'll love."

Ollie chuckled, grateful for the distraction from his racing worries. "That's fantastic, Y/N! I'm sure you'll look absolutely beautiful in it."

Y/N's excitement didn't wane. "And you know what else? I helped your mom pick out a matching tie for you! It perfectly complements the color of my dress. We'll be the most stylish couple at prom!"

Ollie's heart sank a little at her words. He knew he had to be honest with her. "Y/N, there's something I need to tell you," he began, his voice tinged with regret. "I have a testing session with the Prema team on the same day as the prom," he confessed, his voice tinged with disappointment. "I won't be able to make it."

Y/N's voice held a mix of sadness and understanding. "Ollie, I know how important racing is to you. It's your dream. I don't want you to give up on that just for me. If you have to go for the testing session, then go. I'll be okay."

Touched by her words, Ollie felt a pang of guilt. He wished he could be in two places at once, but his dedication to his racing career left him with a difficult choice.

"Y/N, I want you to enjoy your prom. It's a once-in-a-lifetime experience, and you deserve to have an amazing time," Ollie said, his voice filled with sincerity. "Maybe you could go with someone else, a close friend, so you won't have to miss out on the fun."

There was a long pause before Y/N replied, her voice soft but resolute. "Ollie, prom is not about just going with anyone. It's about creating memories with the person you love. And that person, for me, is you." Tears welled up in Y/N's eyes, but she shook her head defiantly. "Ollie, I don't wanna dance if I'm not dancing with you. It just wouldn't be the same."

Ollie felt a pang of guilt wash over him. He hated seeing Y/N upset, especially when it was because of his racing commitments. He knew he had to find a way to make it right, to be there for her on their special night.

With determination in his eyes, Ollie made a silent promise to himself. He would find a way to attend the prom and surprise Y/N, no matter the obstacles that stood in his path.

Over the next few days, Ollie worked tirelessly, speaking with his team and exploring every possible option. And finally, a glimmer of hope appeared. A solution presented itself, and Ollie seized the opportunity.

Ollie felt a mixture of nervousness and excitement as he stepped off the plane and into the airport terminal. His parents had been instrumental in helping him make this surprise visit to Y/N, despite the late hour. They had understood the depth of his love for her and the significance of being there for the prom.

As he made his way through customs, Ollie's parents greeted him with warm smiles and open arms. They had always been supportive of his racing career and understood the importance of love and relationships in his life.

"Son, we're so proud of you," his father said, placing a hand on Ollie's shoulder. "We know how much Y/N means to you, and we wanted to help make this surprise happen."

Ollie's mother added with a twinkle in her eye, "Oliver, you're lucky to have found someone who brings out the best in you."

As they drove through the quiet streets in the early hours of the morning, Ollie's anticipation grew. The love and support of his parents warmed his heart, and he couldn't wait to see the look of surprise and joy on Y/N's face.

He quietly entered the house, tiptoeing up the stairs to his bedroom. With a mix of excitement and relief, he reached for his phone and dialed Y/N's number. The phone rang, and he held his breath, hoping she would pick up.

"Hello?" she mumbled, her voice laced with sleep.

"Hey love," Ollie said, his voice filled with anticipation. "Could you do me a favor? Can you open your bedroom window?"

Confusion tinged Y/N's voice as she responded, "It's the middle of the night, Ollie. What's going on?"

"Just trust me, Y/N," Ollie said, his voice filled with anticipation. "Just look, please."

Curiosity piqued, Y/N dragged herself out of bed and walked to her bedroom window. She slowly pulled back the curtains, her eyes widening in disbelief as she saw Ollie standing in his own bedroom, gazing back at her.

A gasp escaped Y/N's lips, and she clutched her chest, unable to believe her eyes. "Ollie? Is that really you?"

Ollie smiled and nodded, his heart pounding with excitement. "Yes, it's me."

With a deep breath, Ollie mustered all his courage and poured his heart out. "Y/N, you mean everything to me. I can't imagine going to the prom with anyone else. Will you do me the honor of being my date? Will you go to the prom with me?" he asked, holding up a series of handwritten paper, with the word "PROM?" in a style reminiscent of the You Belong with Me music video.

Y/N's eyes filled with tears of joy as she read the message. Her heart swelled with love, and a radiant smile spread across her face. She nodded vigorously, unable to find her voice.

"Yes, Ollie!" she finally exclaimed, her voice filled with happiness. "A thousand times, yes!"

his face broke into a wide smile, relief and joy washing over him. He couldn't believe he had pulled off the surprise, and seeing Y/N's happiness made every effort worthwhile.

Y/N's voice filled with anticipation as she made a request. "Ollie, can you come down to the backyard? I want to be closer to you."

Ollie's heart skipped a beat at her suggestion. Without hesitation, he agreed. "Of course, Y/N. Give me a moment, I'll be right there."

He swiftly made his way downstairs, phone still in hand, and stepped into the cool night air. The moon cast a soft glow on the familiar surroundings as he walked towards the shared fence that separated their backyards.

With each step, the connection between them felt stronger, their voices still intertwined through the phone. Ollie's heart raced with excitement, knowing that he was about to see Y/N in person, even if it was just a few feet away.

As he reached the fence, he looked up and there she was, standing on the other side, a radiant smile adorning her face. Their eyes locked, and in that moment, it felt as though time stood still.

Without a moment's hesitation, she ran towards Ollie, leaping into his arms and wrapping her legs around his waist. Ollie caught her, a mixture of surprise and delight evident on his face.

She cupped Ollie's face in her hands, looking deeply into his eyes. And then, with all the love in her heart, she kissed him passionately, pouring all her emotions into that single moment.

Breathless, they pulled away, their foreheads resting against each other. Y/N's eyes glistened with tears of joy and disbelief. "I can't believe you're here." she whispered, her voice filled with awe and overwhelming love

Ollie couldn't help but smile, his eyes reflecting the depth of his devotion. "Nothing could keep me away from you, Y/N," he murmured, his voice laced with sincerity. "I would move mountains, cross oceans, and defy all odds just to be with you."

He gently placed her back on the ground, their hands intertwined, never wanting to let go. Y/N's heart swelled with gratitude and affection, knowing that Ollie had gone to such extraordinary lengths to make her dreams come true.

Ollie carefully took out the corsage he had prepared and gently placed it on Y/N's wrist. The delicate flowers and handwritten notes intertwined, symbolizing the moments and thoughts they had shared while being apart. Y/N's eyes sparkled with curiosity as she noticed the tiny notes attached to the corsage.

"What are these, Ollie?" she asked, her voice filled with wonder.

Ollie took a deep breath, his voice filled with warmth and affection. "Every time we were apart, every race I competed in, I wrote a little note for you. They were my way of staying connected to you, of reminding myself of your love and support. Each note represents a moment I thought of you and carried your presence with me."

Tears welled up in Y/N's eyes as she gently untied one of the notes and read its contents. It was a heartfelt message expressing Ollie's love and admiration for her. She was overwhelmed by the depth of his affection and the effort he had put into expressing it.

"Ollie, this is so incredibly sweet," she whispered, her voice filled with emotion. "I never knew you were doing this. It means the world to me, knowing that you carried me in your heart every step of the way."

Before they could delve deeper into their heartfelt conversation, the sound of footsteps approached. Y/N's father, having been awakened by their presence outside the house, stepped onto the porch with a mix of surprise and joy on his face.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" he chuckled, seeing Ollie standing with his daughter. "Ollie, my boy, I didn't expect to see you here tonight. Shouldn't you be in another country?"

Ollie's eyes widened, his surprise evident. He had known Y/N's father for a while, but this unexpected encounter left him momentarily speechless. However, Y/N's father quickly reassured him with a warm smile.

"Don't worry, Ollie. I'm thrilled to see you here," he said, patting Ollie on the back. "You're always welcome in our home. Why don't you both come inside and get some rest? It's been quite a night."

Y/N's face beamed with gratitude, her hand intertwined with Ollie's. "Thank you, Dad. We'll take you up on that offer."

As they entered the house together, hand in hand, Ollie couldn't help but feel a sense of belonging and acceptance. Y/N's father's warm welcome reassured him that their love was supported by those who cared about them.

Inside the house, the warmth of Y/N's family enveloped them. Y/N's father, with a playful glint in his eye, turned to Ollie, feigning annoyance.

"Alright, you two lovebirds," he chuckled. "I'll let you off the hook this time, but remember, no funny business under my roof. Ollie, you're sleeping in the living room tonight."

Ollie grinned sheepishly, knowing Y/N's father was just being his protective, caring self. "Yes, sir," he replied, trying to suppress his laughter. "I promise, no funny business."

Y/N's father then added with a wink, "And don't think I won't be checking in on you."

They all shared a good-natured laugh, feeling the warmth of their shared connection. Y/N's father embraced Ollie like a son, and Ollie knew he was lucky to have such a loving and accepting family in his life.

As the night wore on, Ollie settled into the living room, feeling grateful for the opportunity to spend time with Y/N.

Y/N, unable to resist the desire to be close to Ollie, sat beside him on the couch. Ollie pulled her close, his arms wrapping protectively around her. They both sighed contentedly, relishing in the comfort of their embrace.

"I've missed spending nights like this with you," Ollie confessed, his voice filled with sincerity. "Being able to hold you, to feel your presence next to me, it's something I long for when we're apart."

Y/N's heart swelled with love, her fingers gently tracing patterns on Ollie's chest. "I've missed it too, Ollie. There's nothing quite like falling asleep in your arms. It feels like home."

As Ollie felt the gentle rise and fall of Y/N's breath against his chest, he couldn't help but smile. Her peaceful sleep in his arms filled his heart with love and gratitude. He brushed a strand of hair away from her face, caressing her cheek with his fingertips.

As the night deepened, Ollie leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on Y/N's forehead, his heart overflowing with love and gratitude. The soft touch of his lips against her skin conveyed a multitude of emotions that words alone could not express.

He whispered once again, his voice barely audible in the quiet room, “I love you, Y/N.” his words filled with tenderness and devotion. It was a declaration meant for her, a reminder of the depth of his feelings and the unwavering commitment he had for her.

Y/N stirred slightly in her sleep, sensing his affectionate gesture. A peaceful smile curved her lips as she snuggled closer to Ollie, finding solace in his embrace.

With a contented sigh, Ollie closed his eyes, cherishing the moment of pure serenity. In that intimate space, he felt an overwhelming sense of peace and happiness, knowing that he was sharing his life with someone who meant the world to him.

#f2 fanfic #f2 x you #f2 imagine #f2 fluff #f2 x reader #f2 fic #f2 x yn #ollie bearman x oc #ollie bearman x you #ollie bearman x reader #ollie bearman #ollie bearman fluff #f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 fics

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