#he glanced at me whenever i was simping
Note
Dying thinking about gojo literally pinning and hardcore simping for reader, literally showering reader in praise, flattery and gifts because he no longer gives a damn about hiding his feelings, almost proposing to reader whenever he can and reader's just... completely clueless about it💀 and she thinks it's just gojo being friendly. Poor man would be absolutely devastated when he goes one day "[name] i'm in love with you" and she just goes "me too, i love all my friends!" 💀
she loves me, she loves me not! — gojo satoru x fem!reader
contents. fluff, lovesick!gojo (what’s new), highschool!gojo, he’s pathetic but in love your honor, oblivious!reader, ooc gojo i got carried away soz
notes. anon, when i first read your ask i literally started giggling and kicking my feet. that. is. so. gojo coded.
“please reject gojo and put him out of his misery,” utahime implored, taking hold of both of your hands. you think she’s asking, no, begging you to. beside her, shoko nods vigorously.
“but why?” you furrow your eyebrows, perplexed by their sudden request. “i can’t reject someone who doesn’t like me.”
shoko giggles at your comment. her laughter only wanes when she notices the dead serious look on your face. “... you seriously have no idea what we’re talking about?”
“not really,” you shrug, criss-crossing your legs to find some comfort on the hard wooden floor in shoko’s small dorm. it was late, past midnight, and the three of you had a shared mission tomorrow, but for some reason your two friends managed to rope you into their drinking circle.
utahime and shoko exchanged a significant glance, their unspoken communication raising your curiosity. utahime takes a long sip of her beer.
“hopeless. they’re both hopeless,” your short haired brunette friend lamented, pinching her nose bridge. it leaves a faint pink mark.
intrigued, you lean in closer towards the two, “care to elaborate?”
“you’ve never once questioned satoru’s borderline inappropriate behavior?” shoko asks you earnestly. you ponder for a moment, trying to recall any moments in the two years you’ve known the snow-haired boy.
“satoru is satoru…” you mumble, shaking your head in denial.
utahime’s eyes bug comically. she slams her can of beer harshly on the ground. you wince at the loud noise of the metallic can hitting the floor.
“you’re kidding. even i can see through that jerk!” utahime’s black pigtails sway wildly.
“[name], how about what happened in shinjuku last week on our day off?” shoko quietly reminds you of last weekend when the two of you along with satoru and suguru decided to empty your pockets in one of tokyo’s largest entertainment wards.
utahime’s head whips back and forth from her best friend to you, “eh? what happened?!”
from behind the dressing room curtain, you voiced your concerns, “shoko, i don't think we can afford designer clothes on our student budget.” the cream-colored silk dress you wore clung to your body, its price tag undoubtedly surpassing a year's worth of your student earnings.
“don’t worry your pretty little head about it,” shoko’s voice carried a knowing smile. “just come out and show me the dress!” you think satoru’s carefree attitude is rubbing off on her.
with a nervous sigh, you emerged from the dressing room. the dress fit like a glove, accentuating your body in just the right places.
bright flashes from shoko's phone startled you, and she chuckled deviously while rapidly typing. she tossed her phone onto a luxurious cushion, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of exposure.
“you look so sexy. even better than the model.” she gives you two thumbs up, eyes roaming your figure. you feel flushed at her praise.
“as flattered as i am, there’s no way i can afford this,” you look down at the dress, lips downturned. “i’d be in debt for life.”
“no need to worry,” shoko winked, leaving you confused. given that her income was similar to yours, it didn't make sense for her to be able to even dream of shopping designer.
a soft thud interrupted your conversation. you turn around to see a blue lollipop rolling on the expensive carpeting of the store.
“suguru, are my eyes deceiving me or is that an angel?” satoru's mouth is wide open as he shamelessly checks you out. he takes one of his hands and places it over his heart, gripping the fabric of his white shirt. the windbreaker he is wearing rustles at his dramatic movement.
“i think… i’m experiencing a heart attack! shoko help!” he kneels in the middle of the store dramatically. shoko shares an unamused look with suguru. the pair nod before simultaneously kicking satoru.
during all of the commotion, you stand awkwardly in the million yen dress.
“satoru, are you okay?” you watch him take the two blows from your friends, concern evident in your voice. he grunts softly before gently taking ahold of your hand.
“no,” he croaks with a playful glint in his eye. “i’m wounded and there’s only one way to fix it.”
you look at him, your gaze heavy with concern.
“i’m afraid you’ll have to kiss me for the pain to go away.” he added, blinking at you expectantly with his blue eyes.
you lightly shove him away from you. “you’re an idiot.” satoru laughs loudly.
“that’s what love does to a man.”
“yeah, yeah. i’m going to change out of this dress, don’t get into any more trouble while i’m gone.”
satoru’s grip on your hand strengthens, halting your actions.
“how much?”
“excuse me?”
“the dress. how much for it?” he stands up to his full height, reminding you of the obvious height difference between the two of you.
you're at loss for words. gojo was crazy, but definitely not crazy enough to spend a million yen on a silly dress.
shoko happily chimes into the conversation. “one million yen. it’ll be two million yen with the rest of my purchases though!”
suguru’s calm demeanor is replaced with shock. the black haired male’s jaw drops, “two million– satoru, you’re seriously not thinking about–”
“hah? who said i’m paying for your stuff?” gojo makes an ugly face at shoko.
she raises her hands innocently, “it’s not my fault the dresses come in a set. if you want to see your beloved [name] in that dress you’ll have to pay for mine as well.”
you watch shoko and satoru engage into a silent argument. the tension in the fitting room section is so thick, you think it’ll take a special grade weapon to slice through it.
trying to alleviate the mood you tell gojo, “satoru, you really don’t have to–”
“i’m buying you that dress.”
“o-okay.”
half an hour later, satoru happily strolls out of the store with an arm around your shoulder like he’d just won the lottery.
perhaps gojo is just naturally flirty, you had tried to reason to shoko and utahime.
it’s been a week since the eye-opening conversation with the two and you’ve found yourself on cleaning duty with said snow-haired boy. it was a miracle that satoru even showed up. he had a tendency to skip his turns, often resulting in a long lecture from yaga.
as the two of you worked silently in the empty classroom, you couldn't help but admire the setting sun. its golden rays painted the sky with hues of pink and orange, casting a warm glow over everything. unknowingly, while you gazed at the sky, gojo's gaze was firmly fixed on you.
breaking the silence, he asked, "have you ever thought about getting married?"
his question caught you off guard, causing you to momentarily pause from wiping the windows.
“not really,” you replied, biting your lip gently. “unless my family decides to arrange a marriage. you know how unforgiving the world of jujutsu sorcery is.”
gojo's grip on the broom tightened, his eyes locking onto yours with a newfound intensity.
"we should get married y'know," he blurted out.
the piece of cloth you were using slipped from your hand in shock. surely, he couldn't mean what he was saying. after all, the two of you were only second years.
“what?”
“i’m saying i think i’m in love with you.”
“oh.”
silence engulfs the room once more before a soft giggle escapes your lips.
satoru can only watch, entranced.
“that’s good to hear! i love you too– and suguru and shoko! perhaps the four of us should all just get married.” you chuckle into your hand.
satoru can't help but stare at your hand in envy. perhaps if he were the palm of your hand, he’d be able to feel the touch of your lips.
but he couldn’t. he was cursed as a man with an overpowered innate technique, and despite it all he couldn’t even gain the one thing he desired. gojo satoru watched you, eyes filled with a mixture of longing and defeat.
his devastation does not go unnoticed by you.
you were under the impression that he was grumpy because yaga had forced him into cleaning with you.
"cheer up, satoru! if we finish early enough," you continue, your tone highspirited, "we can go to the new crepe shop that opened last week. my treat!" you winked, and that immediately caught his attention.
“like a date?” his eyes sparkled with hope.
you shrug, a smile on your face. “i suppose if you look at it from a certain perspective…”
“great, it’s a date!”
good things come to those who wait, satoru thinks, humming happily as he starts to sweep the room at an inhumane pace.
maybe in ten years time the two of you will be happily married with eight kids, he smiles to himself.
#kt.writes.·:*¨༺#gojo fluff#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru x y/n#gojo satoru x you#gojo x reader#gojou satoru x reader#gojou satoru x you#jjk fluff#jujutsu kaisen fluff#this is me coping bc of the leaks
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Vacation: Part one
PART TWO PART THREE
Pairing :: OPLA!Sanji x fem!Reader
Warnings :: 18+ Content, NSFW/SMUT, Oral(f recieving), Semi-Public sex(they did it in an alley), Light teasing
Word Count :: 3,373
Summary :: After being forced on a vacation at the Baratie, you catch the eye of a certain blond cook who loves to tease you.
A/N :: I was trying to find the right mix between pervert simp anime Sanji and suave charming live-action Sanji. There will for sure be a part two.
Go watch the One Piece live-action.
“I see a place we can stop to make repairs, Captain Tommy,” You said, eye still focused on the small floating mass in the distance.
You worked on a merchant ship for a wealthy businessman named Greylock. You were his top secret contract negotiator. The reason you were a “secret” was because he never introduced you as a negotiator. You would always find your way to sneak into his potential clients’ and contract partners’ inner circle to figure out what type of people they were and what they wanted. With this personal knowledge, you would then come up with the best plan of action to secure a beneficial deal for the business. It was easy for you thanks to your typically quiet demeanor. You knew when to stay silent and read the room.
Captain Tommy, Greylock’s business partner, set a course for the wooden structure floating. “Let’s hope the owner’s kind enough to let us port for a while.”
“How long do you think it’ll take to repair the damages?”
“The storm banged us up pretty good, not to mention all the scrapes we’ve gotten from pirates.” He glanced around the ship. “I’d say at least three to four weeks.”
You cursed quietly under your breath. “Greylock isn’t going to be happy about that.”
Captain Tommy shrugged. “There’s nothing we can do. The ship’s falling apart. We won’t be able to make it to a port town before the ship sinks.”
You knew Greylock would be upset once you told him, so you took precocious measures to alleviate the anger.
You stood with him on the deck, watching as you approached your soon-to-be temporary home. "You know sir, you've been mentioning wanting to take a vacation for a while."
He sighed, shrugging. "That's because I'm getting older and tired of working. I became a merchant to see the world, not to work endlessly."
"Well then, how about you finally take that vacation now while we repair the ship?"
He turned his head to give you a weary look. "Take a vacation while the ship is repaired?"
You nodded with a smile. "Captain Tommy told me it would take at least three weeks to repair the ship. Instead of worrying about work, you should relax during that time."
"(Y/N)-"
"And you can give the crew a chance to rest. Were y'all dreary from that dreadful storm, not to mention the attacks we had to endure before?" You patted his shoulder. "You know what they say, a happy crew is a dutiful crew. And a tired crew typically ends up killing someone."
Grey lock laughed at your made-up saying, but you were able to persuade him. "You're right. We've been working too hard recently without a break." He looked out once more, finally in the distance to see the name of the place you'll all be staying for the next month. "Lads!" He shouted loud enough to grab everyone's attention. "I want you lot to enjoy yourselves at the Baratie. Think of our unscheduled stop as a surprise resort! Haha!"
Immediately the crew lit up. While everyone cheered and began to talk about what they'd do with their spare time, aside from repairs, you looked up at Captain Tommy. He had a small smirk, giving you a wink. He knew if anyone could get Greylock to give the entire crew a break, it'd be you.
-
You walked into Baratie behind Greylock and Captain Tommy. It was typically for the three of you to grab a bite together whenever you arrived at a new town so that you could discuss your work objectives. Today, however, it was simply a meal between friends.
A fish man greeted you at the entrance, accepting a small fee before allowing you to take your seats.
You looked over the menu, wondering what to try first. You'd be around for a while and we're sure you'd get to try a few items on the menu before departing. Greylock and Captain Tommy chatted with one another, used to your silence. They knew that you spoke when you felt you needed to.
The swing doors to the kitchen flew open. You glanced up from the menu, seeing a blond man to have caused the small ruckus. He looked upset, brows furrowed and tight lips turned down.
'I wonder what got him so riled up,' You thought.
You kept your eyes on him, noticing he was making his way to your table with a tray of bread rolls in hand. When he was about halfway, he noticed you sitting right of Greylock and his mood instantly seemed to pick up. After his eyes locked with yours, his gaze lit up and a dashing smile graced his lips.
Seeing his mood do a complete one-eighty after spotting you, you shot your eyes back down to your menu. 'Please don't be our waiter. Please don't be our waiter. Plea-'
"Hello gentlemen and fair lady, my name is Sanji. What would you like to drink to start you off? We have several rare Micqueot vintages in stock."
Almost throughout his entire introduction, you could feel his line of sight fixed on you. He didn’t mind that you didn’t look at him. It allowed him to sneak a glance at your chest without being noticed.
"Anything fancy would be a waste on me. I'll just have a simple whiskey to start with," Greylock said. Captain Tommy put up two fingers, requesting the same.
"And what will you be having, darling?"
"Hm… I'll have a sweet tea."
"A sweet drink for a sweet girl understood."
Your eyes shot towards him, a little shocked by his straightforward demeanor. He gave you a quick wink before walking away.
Now, it was time for the old men to act like school girls.
Greylock started the teasing first. "Awe, our little (Y/N) has a young man who's interested in her,"
"And by the small blush on her cheeks, I'd say she's interested too."
"Wh-what blush?" You stuttered, only now feeling the heat center in your cheeks.
"The one that's covering your entire face." Captain Tommy laughed.
"Shut up. I was just caught off guard by his remark." You practically shoved your face into the menu, embarrassed to face the men before you any longer.
They continued laughing for a moment before talking about what to order.
After Sanji came back with your drinks, it was time for you three to place your orders. Again, your colleagues ordered before you. This time though, you spoke right when Captain Tommy finished his sentence.
"And I will have the seared ahi tuna."
"Do you want the chocolate sin cake after for dessert, love? It's so moist it'll melt in your mouth, I promise," He said in a sultry tone for no other apparent reason than to get a rise out of you.
And once more, you were left stunned and your face was heating up. You were certain he was only teasing you, but you were still upset giving him the presumed reaction he wanted.
"She would love the chocolate cake!" Greylock's hand patted your back hard, causing you to fall forward a bit on the table. "It's been a while since she's had a good pastry."
“Coming right up.”
He left with a swift turn on his heels and when he was out of sight you glared daggers at the two accompanying you.
“What do you think you’re doing, sir?”
“Trying to make sure you have a fun time here.” He took a swig of his whiskey before continuing. “Listen, you’re always working hard for us, and you rarely make any time for yourself.”
You sink in your seat a bit. He was right. On the rare occasion you did flirt with others, it was to secure a deal, and then, you were gone.
“Plus, the boy’s easy on the eyes. You’d be mad to not give him a chance.” He bursted out laughing.
Captain Tommy was a bit more comforting with his words. “You probably won’t interact with him much, so don’t mind him.”
Choosing to believe him, you relaxed for the remainder of the meal. ‘Captain Tommy’s right. As long as I don’t come here again, I probably won’t run into him.’
Too bad you had a crew that loved to go out because about two days later, you found yourself back at the Baratie. This time, Sanji wasn’t your waiter which you were more than thankful for. Captain Tommy and Greylock might’ve teased you a bit, but the men with you now would have embarrassed you so much you would never step foot out of your living quarters again.
Around mid-way into your meal, you excused yourself from the table to go use the restroom. While walking down the hallway, your attention was on the various paintings that decorated the wall.
Since you weren’t paying much attention to what was in front of you, you collided with a firm chest. You nearly stumbled back until a pair of arms wrapped around you, holding you in place.
“Ah-! I-I’m so sorry! I should have been paying attention to where I was… going…” You looked up at the person you had bumped into, locking eyes with a familiar blue-eyed blond.
He gave you a large grin, replying. “No need to apologize madam. I should be the one apologizing,” You tilted your head, “for disturbing a fine piece of art like you.”
You immediately turned away, hoping he wouldn’t catch your growing blush. “Can you please let me go?” You asked timidly.
You felt his hold tighten for a quick second before letting you go. Without another word, you rushed past him to the women's restroom.
Sanji watched you run away, a playful grin plastered on his face. “Oh, I’m going to have fun with this one,” He mumbled, already missing the feeling of your body pressed against his.
-
This would be how every interaction you had with the blonde cook and occasional waiter, played out. You would try to be formal with him, he'd make a flirty or suggestive comment, and then you'd start to blush or stutter.
Typically it was whenever you went to eat at Baratie, but there were a few occasions when he managed to catch you outside.
-
"I must be in heaven because I'm seeing an angel before me." You tensed up in your seat and froze upon hearing Sanji.
You were at the small outdoor bar next to the giant fish-headed restaurant. Around the end of the first week, you noticed that the place had a pretty good view of the sunset. Sure, you saw the sun set often, but you rarely actually watched it fall below the horizon line, disappearing until morning. It was a minor peaceful event you wanted to enjoy on your supposed vacation alone.
The sky had already darkened by this point. You were just around to finish the drink you had.
"Good evening, Sanji."
He sat next to you, pouting playfully. "Come on m, (Y/N). We've known each other for over two weeks now. There's no need for you to keep acting so stuffy all the time."
You crossed your arms. "I'm not stuffy."
"Yes, you are. Every time I see you it's always a quick sentence or two before nothing but silence. I'm starting to think you don't like me."
'I wish it was that simple.' In fact, you were having the opposite reaction. You were used to making contracts and business deals with people when you spoke to them. You weren't used to being openly flirted with for no reason.
Like always, you avoided making eye contact with him. This time, you fixed your attention to the remaining ice cubes in your drink.
He leaned closer to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. "Or maybe, it's because you're too shy to admit you like me," He whispered, hot breath hitting your ear and sending a tingle throughout your body.
You snapped your head around, face burning up when you saw how close he was. That damn coy smile plastered on his perfect lips.
He chuckled to himself, brushing a strand of your hair out of your face. "That's it, isn't it?"
"Why do you keep messing with me?" You bluntly asked. Frankly, you were getting tired of his game, even if you weren't entirely sure what this game was.
This was the first time you had caught him off guard. He leaned back a bit, tilting his head. "What makes you think I'm messing with you?"
"If you actually had an interest in me, you would've told me or showed me by now. You just keep saying sweet nothings to mess with me and I'm sick of it," Your voice was growing frustrated, finally voicing your opinion. "I'm trying to enjoy my vacation, not be bothered by some- Hey!"
He grabbed your hand, lifting you from your seat with a tug and pulling you away. You followed, partly because you were unable to pull away and partly because of curiosity as to where he was taking you. He led you to a small alley a bit away.
Before you could question his intentions, he leaned down to press a firm kiss onto your lips. His hands fell to your hips, holding onto you with a firm grasp and locking you against the wall behind you. Almost as if he were afraid you’d try to escape. His nerves were quickly set to rest when you began kissing him back, your hands holding his shoulders. His tongue licked your bottom lip and you gladly parted, allowing him to shove his tongue in your mouth.
After some time, he pulled away and began trailing kisses down your neck. As he did, you felt his hands wander to the button of your shorts.
Feeling him work to undo them you asked him, “What are you doing?”
He pulled away, a coy smile still on his face. “Showing you that I have an interest in you.”
He began to pull your shorts down and you felt your heart begin to race. You weren’t directly out in the open, but if someone going down the main walkway happened to turn their heads they’d spot the two of you.
“Sanji, wait- What if- Ngh!”
He started rubbing your clit through your growing wet panties, chuckling at the quick response he got. “‘What if’ what, darling?”
You glared at him, trying to voice your concerns, but again, he continued to distract you with pleasure.
He knelt down on one knee, grabbing your left thigh, and hooking it over his shoulder after completely removing your shorts. You watched with half-lidded eyes as he pushed and held your underwear to the side, revealing your pussy. He stuck his tongue in first, licking up your folds while maintaining eye contact with you through his blond locks. He continued this motion and you bit your bottom lip, hoping not to make a noise.
He wasn’t having any of that though. If there was one thing he loved, it was to know he was doing a good job. At first, he had started to tease you a bit because he thought you were cute when you got flustered. As the days went on, he noticed that you might not have said much, but you couldn’t hide your physical reactions to him. Your face was almost always flushed around him. Your grip on whatever you held tightened with the simplest of sentences. It made him wonder what type of lover were you? Quiet, non-verbal, highly responsive to the slightest touches, etc.?
He had just never gotten you alone to figure it out, until now.
He sucked your clit, earning a squeal in response. Your hands immediately shot down to his head, grabbing hold of his hair.
‘She looks so cute trying to stay quiet.’
He could feel his pants tightening around his crotch, watching you squirm because of his touch. It was getting difficult for you to stay up with one leg, especially when he slotted two fingers into your wet cunt. He curved his fingers in you, moving them slowly at first before picking up the pace to match how quickly he was flicking his tongue against your clit.
“Sa-Sanji, I- I don’t think I ca-can last much longer,” You whined.
Even without you telling him, he could tell you were getting close. Your walls had started to tighten around his fingers and he had to hold the thigh of your standing leg to support you. He would’ve loved to have you come undone around his tongue, however, for his first time with you, he wanted to fully see your expression.
He pulled away and you let out a loud sigh of relief, panting a bit. You were a little disappointed you hadn’t finished but were hopeful to continue this in a more private enclosed area. Your head was a bit fuzzy though, and you didn’t pick up on the small noise of him undoing his trousers or when he completely pulled down your panties.
He grabbed your thighs and housed you up to position the head of his penis right at your entrance. When you felt it rub against your slick folds, your eyes widened. The two of you watched as he pushed his cock in, seeing it disappear in your cunt. He groaned, eyes rolling back for a moment at how tight you were wrapped around him. You whined, feeling his length fill you up.
Slowly, he rocked his hips back and forth, giving you a chance to adjust to him. He watched your face with amusement, a mix of pleasure and embarrassment in your expression. You were still biting down on your lip, hoping to be as discrete as possible given the situation you were in.
With one swift hard thrust though, you let out a moan. Your legs wrapped around his hips and your arms around his shoulders. You buried your face into the crook of his neck, allowing him to clearly hear all your little whimpers and mewls of delight.
After hearing your moan, he began to thrust harder, wishing to hear more of your voice. You could hear his grunting too, breath growing heavier and heavier with each stroke inside you.
No longer needing to hold you up with both hands, one of them slipped underneath your shirt, sliding under the cup of your bra. He groped your breast, happy at how soft it was in his hand.
The harder he continued to thrust, the shakier your moans got. You were getting close to your release again and he wasn’t far behind, his own breathing now becoming ragged. Now, with each thrust, he could feel your walls tighten around him. Wanting to make sure he got a good look at your face when you came, he briefly removed his hand from your breast to tug your hair back. With your face pulled away from his neck, he plastered his lips against yours, shoving his tongue once more in your mouth. After, his hand returned to groping your breast.
His grip on your thigh was so tight, that you were sure there would be markings. With how hard he was kissing you, your lips were bound to be puffy when he stopped.
Your mind was becoming foggy and all you were focused on was the pleasure you were in, no longer caring someone caught you. You moaned against his lips, your entire body growing tense in his hold. Your walls clamped around him, finally hitting your high.
Seeing your eyes fall shut, engrossed in the feeling of climaxing, combined with how your cunt squeezed against him, he hit deep one last time before unraveling himself. His cock pulsed in you, dumping his entire load inside, savoring how your body milked it.
He pulled away from the kiss, each of your breaths now shaky trying to regain your composure. Your head fell back against the wall, eyes remaining on him.
“What do we do now?” You asked.
“We plan out the rest of your vacation. You’re here for at least one more week, right?” He kissed your cheek. “That gives us one more week of fun, darling.”
#one piece imagine#one piece fanfic#one piece fanfiction#one piece smut#sanji x reader#sanji smut#sanji imagine#sanji fanfic#sanji fanfiction#one piece sanji x reader#one piece live action sanji x reader#one piece live action sanji#sanji#vinsmoke sanji#vinsmoke sanji x reader#vinsmoke sanji smut
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Ungodly Hour (2)
You’re encouraged by Chaeyoung, your roommate, to use Jungkook thirst for you to your advantage.
Word Count: 2.314
Warning: smut, dirty talking, thirsty jk as always, also simp jk, facesitting, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, semi-rough sex, jimin and mc are friendemies,
“Bitch.” Jimin murmurs beneath his breath as he passes you and all you can do is roll your eyes.
“So sassy.” you quip, a smirk forming onto your lips.
“Don’t listen to him.” Jungkook pipes in, holding two cases of water bottles in his arms. You furrow a brow, eyes admiring (in secret) how the veins on his arms pulse. “He’s just mad he had to help bring the groceries in.”
Jimin drops a few bags against your kitchen table and rolls his eyes. “I was promised breakfast. Instead I’m walking up three flights of stairs to put food in your kitchen.”
Jungkook scoffs, placing your water gently by the other two packs already on the ground inside the kitchen. Chaeyoung is excited, already putting away the groceries Jungkook - generously - provided. The cabinets were already full enough and she hadn’t even made it to the fridge or freezer. She could kiss Jungkook for the month supply of food - but you were already repaying him.
“Sucks to suck.” you shrug your shoulders when Jimin passed you again with even more bags.
“You would know a lot about sucking.” Jimin retorts.
“You want to fuck me so bad, Jimin.” you laugh and the comment catches Jimin completely off guard. He flushes, but you don’t want to tease the man any more.“You’re just upset, Jungkook kicked you off of his account.” you cross your arms, and this struck a nerve in Jimin.
It was a month ago when Jimin had texted you - getting your number from Chaeyoung - just to tell you that you were everything but a civilized human being. Why? Because you had complained to Jungkook that whenever you were watching something, Jimin also was. And that meant - to satiate you - Jungkook had removed Jimin’s devices from his account and changed the passwords.
“I was binge watching The Real Housewives!” Jimin snaps. “But I suppose pussy is worth our friendship.” the man crosses his arms, eyes glancing at Jungkook.
“You’ll get your breakfast.” Jungkook rolls his eyes. He rummages through his sweats and grabs his wallet. He hands Jimin a black card.
“It’s the least you could do.” Jimin glances your way and rolls his own eyes. He leaves without a second word and all you could do is giggle.
“Do you have anything planned today? Classes?”
You shake your head. You were completely free today and have done so to repay Jungkook for his generous donation.
Jungkook nods. His eyes glance to Chaeyoung who is still happily organizing the insane amount of groceries. She’s humming to herself with a grin on her lips.
“When is she leaving?” Jungkook murmurs, a red tint on his cheeks. He doesn’t want to come across as desperate - but that’s exactly what he was. He had replied far too fast to your tweet (and of course he would, he had your notifications on, afterall) and raced to the Supermarket first thing in the morning.
You stroll towards Jungkook. You wrap your arms around his waist and knit your brows. “I can’t kick Chae out. She lives here, too.”
Jungkook nods, defeated. “We can watch a movie-”
“No.” Chaeyoung calls from the kitchen opening. “I’ll put my airpods in and put the rest of the groceries away. Don’t let me stop you from fucking his brains out.”
Jungkook’s eyes widen, flushing even a deeper shade of red. Chaeyoung speaks as if Jungkook isn’t there, her eyes solely on you. “Make sure you go multiple rounds. He bought everything name-brand!”
Jungkook tilts his head.
“Let’s go!” you sing-song, grasping his hand to race towards your room. You open the door and close it behind you and Jungkook.
“You guys must’ve been starving.” Jungkook jokes, his hands immediately on you.
“A little.” you murmur, capturing your lips with his own. Kissing could be considered intimate, but at this stage, you were fucking Jungkook for about anything and for nothing. Sometimes you two weren’t even doing that - you watched movies together, studied whenever needed and just enjoyed each other's company.
“Why didn’t you ask sooner?” Jungkook presses open mouth kisses upon the skin of your neck. He’s already dipping his hands beneath your pajama shorts to feel your ass.
“Just got on birth control.” you respond when he pulls your shorts off of you completely. You fall onto your bed. “Decided to use it to my advantage.”
Jungkook groans, hovering above you. That means that this didn’t have to be a one time thing - he could cum in you as much as you’d let him. “You don’t need to do anything for me, you know?” Jungkook lifts your shirt from your head, discarding it to the side. Your breasts fall freely and he’s already pressing kisses upon them. He does the same to his shirt soon after. “I don’t mind buying you things.”
You wrap your legs around his waist to bring him closer. You never want to admit that his words get to you. Fuck Jeon Jungkook and his good heart (and dick) for making you feel things you weren’t suppose to feel outside of sex .
“You must waste so much money on all these girls.” you attempt to sound unbothered by his words. His tongue is already swirling your nipple with his thumb pinching the other. “Fucking s-simp.” he’s grinding against your heat, the friction perfect.
“You know you’re the only one that has access to me.” Jungkook pops your nipple from his mouth. He proceeds to lick, eyes flickering to you. You press yourself tighter against his clothed cock, grinding against it.
“I don’t.” You do - but it does something to you to hear him say it. Maybe it was an ego thing - a pride. It makes your head big just knowing that Jungkook would do anything you asked and expected next to nothing in return.
“You do, Y/N. You know you’re my girl.” Even if the agreement was to keep things completely sexual, to everyone but the two of you, this was a relationship. You hung out outside of sex far too often for this to be a regular friend with benefit type of situation - but it was like the blind leading the blind. “You wanna sit on my face?”
You nod your head hastily. In seconds, Jungkook was beneath you, tugging your underwear off so you could sit on him like he asked. The first time he requested it, you felt indifferent. You never sat directly on anyone before and you were afraid to suffocate him. However, Jungkook insisted and since then, sitting on his face has been your (and his) favorite position to try.
Jungkook isn’t the one to waste time. He’s suckling onto your clit with ease, hands gripping your thighs in place. He loves it more when you grind against his tongue - he enjoys watching you tremble with pleasure. He has the perfect view of not only your leaking pussy, but your breast and your beautiful face. It was the perfect position for him.
You were a truthful person - you’d give Jungkook his flowers. The man is insanely attractive and whenever you sat on his face, you could never last too long. Jungkook always insisted on watching you - he stated he loved the way you always crumbled for him. How you’d moan while grinding against his tongue.
It’s what Jungkook’s doing now. He locks his eyes with yours. He clenches your thighs as an unspoken response.
“S-Stop looking at me.” you whine. You lift your hips, but Jungkook doesn’t allow it. He pulls you back down against his tongue.
“You’re always so stubborn.” Jungkook muffles between your legs. He’s flicking his tongue between your folds. “I know you’re about to cum, baby. Stop being so embarrassed.”
You mentally groan because of course there it was. That word. Jungkook knew how to fluster you - if he meant to do it or not.
“Fine.” you grumble.
Jungkook slaps your thigh. “Now ride my face.” he says. He closes his eyes to not further fluster you, even if he did want to watch you cum right in front of him.
You do as you’re told, grinding your hips against his tongue. Jungkook holds you in place, silently encouraging you to continue. You can feel the familiar bubble deep in your stomach and your hips pick up the pace. You release a deep moan, eyes fluttering close.
Jungkook takes a peek at you, feeling his cock twitch. So beautiful you were. He could watch you like this for as long as you’d let him.
Jungkook knows you’re going to cum once your moans become high pitched and your hips jerk. He doesn’t take his eyes off of your face as you come undone, his cock basically begging for a release.
You feel tired when you move yourself from Jungkook’s lips. You fall against your bed with a sigh.
Licking his lips, Jungkook hovers above you. “Tired?”
You nod your head. “A little.” you always were after cumming on his tongue. It was inevitable.
Jungkook nods. “You hungry? I can…make us something?”
You groan once more. There he was again being nice and doing things to your heart that he wasn’t supposed to do.
“You can after you cum inside of me.”
It’s hard to ignore the bulge in Jungkook’s sweats.
“You sure. It’s okay-”
You slap Jungkook’s chest, interrupting his speech. “Shut the fuck up, Jungkook.” you hiss. “You’re too nice.”
Jungkook snickers. “You want me to be an insensitive asshole?” Yes you did. It made things easier. You told yourself (and Chaeyoung) that you wouldn’t fall for this nice boy act and become far too gone. He made it hard. Offering to make you cum was different than cooking for you.
“You do.” Jungkook hums. “Is that some type of kink?”
“Fuck you.” you hiss. “Maybe I just want you to be a little rough sometimes.”
Jungkook smirks, understanding your tone. You were closing yourself off because you were flustered - and the only way for you to calm yourself was to insult him.
“If that’s what you wanted, it’s all you had to say, baby.” Jungkook pushes his sweats down and kicks it off. His bulge is entirely too huge inside his underwear. “I’d do whatever you ask me to do.”
Shit. There he was again. Jungkook knew what he was doing.
“Turn around.” Jungkook slaps your thigh. “Since you want to be treated like a whore, I'll do just that.”
You may have turned entirely too quickly, but you couldn’t help it.
Jungkook positions himself at your entrance. “Let me know if I’m too rough, okay?”
“Stop being a pussy.”
Jungkook only chuckles.
Jungkook then enters you, you’re so wet that you take him far too easily. He begins his pace brutally, pushing your face down into your pillows. He keeps one hand tangled into your hair while the other grips your hips.
This was new. No, Jungkook wasn’t technically vanilla. He could be rough when needed - but this? This was a new side of Jungkook that has you clenching around him. With each thrust, he hits a nerve, sending you more and more over the edge.
“No back talk?” Jungkook huffs, cracking his hips to fuck into you deeper.
You want to tell Jungkook to go fuck himself, but then he pulls your hair back in a way that has you whimpering for more.
“You always insist on being a bitch.” Jungkook releases your hair to wrap his arms around you. You feel his lips upon your neck, his hips never halting their abusive thrusts.
“But even if you are a bitch, you know I love it.”
“S-Shut up.” you whimper.
Jungkook doesn’t. Instead, he flips you onto your back so he can watch you while he fucks you.
“No.” Jungkook spits, continuing the same brutal pace. He has your knees touching your shoulders, the new position allowing him to fuck you even deeper than before. “You don’t like it when I'm nice to you. You want me to treat you like some whore.”
Your eyes are rolling now. There’s no way Jungkook could be fucking you entirely this good that you’re unable to form words.
“But you aren’t some whore to me, Y/N. You know you’re still my girl.” Jungkook places a kiss upon your cheek. “So I’ll treat you like a bitch in heat now, then I’ll cook for us, yeah?”
Jungkook doesn’t wait for your response. He leans back and places his thumb upon your clit. He begins to rub, determined to make you cum again.
You’re stuttering, jerking away from Jungkook, the overstimulation completely unbearable.
“Stop running, isn’t this what you wanted?”
So pretty, Jungkook thinks. You could be a bitch sometimes, but it’s what he likes about you. He enjoys the playful bickering he entertains and your feisty attitude. He enjoys it even more when he does entertain you in these little games you play just for you to lose at your own game - much like how you were now.
Jungkook’s thrusts are sloppy once you cum, a twitching mess beneath him. Your eyes are rolling and you’re no longer trying to hide your moans.
Jungkook presses his lips against yours, grunting into it while he gives one last thrust. His cum shoots inside of you, coating your warm walls.
It takes a few minutes for Jungkook to lay beside you. He feels just as tired as you must’ve felt earlier, panting low to himself.
“You still hungry?”
Your eyelids are fluttering closed, suddenly heavy. “Sleepy.” you murmur, laying your head against Jungkook's chest.
Jungkook wraps an arm around you. “You’re also so cuddly after a good fucking.” he teases.
“Fuck you.”
“I will after our nap.” Jungkook laughs. “We have all day for me to turn you into my little twinkie-”
Your body heats up and you slap Jungkook’s chest, but once again, all he does is laugh.
Series Masterlist
#bts smut#bangtanwritershq#btsmasterlist2022#btswritersclub#bangtan smut#jungkook x reader#jungkook smut#fake tweets#college au#bts college au#bangtanwriters net#btswriterscollective#ungodly hour#explicit-tae#bts fwb#jungkook friends with benefits#jimin friendnemies
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HQ BOYS MEETING A BEAUTIFUL FAN
⟶ ft. kuroo, suna, ushijima
♡ kuroo
"kuroo? kuroo testurou?"
kuroo whips around, ready to apologise to whoever that the nekoma volleyball team is currently rushing to catch their bus back to school, when he's suddenly hit with...
kuroo's jaw drops.
he doesn't even know how to describe what he's seeing. all he knows is that he's currently staring at the girl of his dreams.
"um, could i take a video with you?" you give him a tentative grin, before rocking back on your heels, adding, "and if it's okay, could you wish my friend to get well soon?"
kuroo immediately closes his mouth, aware that he looks completely stupid in front of the cutest girl he's ever laid eyes on. he gazes at you with his iconic half-lidded eyes, hoping he sounds more confident than the way his heart is clenching in his chest, "oh? a video? and what's your friend's name?"
"misaki! she's your biggest fan but she couldn't be here because she's sick today." kuroo nods empathetically at your explanation, internally swooning because you're going to such lengths for your sick friend? that is so cute.
"sure! a video's nothing! hang on - kenma, help us take a video!"
kenma turns around, about to protest how they have no more time to entertain fangirls when he sees kuroo slinging an arm around you. kuroo shoots kenma a pleading look and kenma finds himself sighing because, of course, kuroo is absolute putty for pretty girls.
when coach nekomata calls for kuroo and kenma, kuroo frowns as he removes his arm around your waist, before he gets an idea.
he leans in closer to you, pressing something into your hands, smirking, "return this to me in school."
before you can even open your mouth and protest, kuroo's gone.
you look down in your hands and see his nekoma jacket crumpling between your fingers as you giggle to yourself.
♡ suna
suna is normally cool as a cucumber, eyes glued to his phone nonchalantly whenever a group of fangirls approach his teammates and gush animatedly.
normally.
he thinks he's being slick when he sneaks a few glances your way, heart clenching in his chest as he sees you move closer - or rather sees your friends drag you towards...him?
suna quickly assesses his situation and scans the area around him - no, the miya twins were not around him. this could only mean one thing - you're headed straight in his direction.
before he has the time to really freak out about an angel of a girl approaching him, you're already getting pushed towards him, with your friends' soft snickers in the background. and you're beaming up at him softly.
he feels his heart in his throat when he hears you repeat, gesturing to your friend who's holding up a polaroid camera, "are you okay to take a photo with me?"
okay? fuck. he is more than okay.
suna blinks, regaining a little composure. straightening his jersey, suna nods at you silently and wraps an arm around your shoulder, hoping you don't hear the way his heart is hammering thunderously against his chest.
holy shit. how do you smell amazing too? what was that - vanilla or something floral?
as suna tries to figure out what exactly is the intoxicating scent wafting around him, the photo is over, a little too fast might he add. he feels you pulling away from him and his arm drops back to his sides.
he knows he sounds uncharacteristically simp-y and even cringes a little at himself, but he knows he will forever regret it if he didn't ask you.
"do you wanna have another photo? with the polaroid camera, i mean."
suna may or may not have left his number behind the second polaroid.
♡ ushijima
"hi!"
ushijima feels a gentle tap on his shoulder right after he hears you. he turns around slowly and -
there is no way you are real.
"hello." he greets, looking stoic in contrast to the way he's internally panicking.
ushijima feels his grip tighten on the volleyball he's holding, taking in the way your eyes shine under the harsh gym lights. he listens to you ramble something about being a fan of his and a reporter as his eyes continue to glaze over your angelic figure, only snapping out of it when he feels kageyama nudging his side.
"so ermmm, what do you do in your free time?" you repeat helpfully, prodding a pen against your notepad.
"uhm." ushijima feels his face heating up. "i take care of my plants."
you're immediately gasping, "no way! i'm a plant mom too!"
"oh, uhhh," ushijima swallows, growing impossibly redder at the revelation of your shared hobby, "what do you grow?"
"roses!"
of course. that suits you, he thinks, pretty flowers for a pretty girl.
before ushijima knows it, he's spluttering nervously, "there's...actually a nursery around here..."
you look up from your notepad, eyes crinkling excitedly as you listen to ushijima explain how to get there. but after a couple of failed descriptions, ushijima scratches his head, "i-if you're not too busy afterwards, i could take you there?"
your eyes widen at the insinuation, before you nod shyly and give ushijima a small smile, which he finds himself melting at.
did ushijima just score himself a date? maybe.
is he complaining? oh hell no.
🤍 reblogs are very appreciated!
#shoutout to the anon for suggesting this!!!#haikyuu#haikyuu headcanons#haikyuu fanfic#haikyuu fluff#haikyuu scenarios#haikyuu x reader#hq imagines#haikyu x reader#haikyuu drabbles#hq fluff#haikyuu!!#hq fanfic#hq x you#hq x y/n#hq x reader#haikyuu fanfiction#haikyuu hcs#haikyu hcs#haikyu fanfiction#haikyū!!#haikyu fluff#suna x reader#suna rintarō#hq suna#haikyuu suna#suna rintaro fluff#kuroo tetsurou#kuroo tetsuro x you#ushijima x you
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CL16 | Oblivious
Sorry it took me so long, I was really busy with finals the last couple of weeks but I've finally finished the fic from the poll! I hope you like it :)
Summary: Charles has been blatantly flirting with Y/N for months, but she's the only one who hasn't noticed.
Charles Leclerc x Sainz!Reader
WC: 2.4K
Warnings: None
Masterlist
Charles was busy in the garage, talking with his mechanics when he saw her walk in. Y/N Sainz, the younger sister of his friend and teammate. He had seen her many, many times when she came to support her brother at his races. It seemed like Charles could sense her presence, knowing she was there without having seen or heard her, always looking up right when she walked in. Y/N Sainz was greatly loved by the Ferrari employees. With her bubbly personality, witty jokes, and bright smiles, all the team members enjoyed her presence. And Charles couldn’t help but feel the same way, although Y/N was completely oblivious to his affection.
His face lit up when their eyes met, instantly smiling at her company. As soon as she was close enough, he greeted her, “Ah Y/N! Nice to see you again, you look lovely today!” He grinned.
“Oh, thank you, Charles. You’re so kind!” She responded with a bright smile as she hugged him in greeting, the flirty undertone going by entirely unnoticed.
Charles had been enamoured with Y/N since the first time they met. In an effort to not come off too strong and scare her away, Charles tried to flirt with her subtly. However, after several occurrences without any reaction from Y/N, it seemed his flirting was too subtle. Either that or she was not into him. But he couldn’t give into that possibility just yet.
As time passed and Y/N became a more familiar face in the paddock, Charles’s flirtations became bolder. He’d constantly try to include her in conversations and would make up all kinds of excuses just to talk to her. Whenever he did manage to string her into another conversation, he’d try to make her laugh as much as he could. Simply because he could, and because he loved to see her happy and smiling. And if he was feeling really confident, he would even go as far as to touch her arm or the small of her back while they were chatting away or walking around the paddock together. Nevertheless, to Charles's frustration, Y/N didn’t seem to notice his underlying motives, dismissing his actions and words as nothing more than friendly gestures.
Meanwhile, everyone else who had ever been around the duo seemed to have caught sight of the one-sided infatuation and attempt at courtship. Everybody except for Y/N had noticed Charles was desperately trying to make his feelings for the girl obvious, but she simply kept friend-zoning him. Frankly, he found it embarrassing.
Nearly all of Charles’s fellow drivers had been caught up in one of his attempts to woo Y/N while she simply brushed his compliments off as friendly comments. It was hard not to notice Charles’s fruitless flirting when he did it right in front of them, but they didn’t say anything about it. His colleagues merely exchanged knowing glances with others aware of the situation, amused at Charles’s futile attempts at winning Y/N over. But as time wore on, and Charles kept trying, at least a few of his colleagues started to comment on his persistence, calling him a simp, and joking about his poor flirting. Some suggested he should stop his pursuit of Y/N, as it seemed she wasn’t interested, but Charles was relentless: he would not quit until he knew for sure Y/N Sainz didn’t and would never like him.
And so, when Charles spotted Y/N walking through the paddock with Lando, one of the people in the paddock she got along with better, talking animatedly and laughing loudly with each other, he approached her once more; he would seize any opportunity to blatantly flirt with Y/N. He quickly caught up with the two, putting his hand on the small of her back as he matched his speed with theirs. “You’re absolutely radiant today, chérie” He greeted her with a cheeky grin.
Y/N looked to her side, greeting the new presence “Hey, Charles!” As oblivious as always, she sweetly smiled up at him and replied, “Thanks! You’re such a sweet friend!”
Lando was a mere bystander in the situation as he observed the interaction, surprised and amused at the ease with which Y/N once again waved off the man who was so clearly crushing on her. He held his opinions back until Charles left, “Wow, you certainly have no trouble friend-zoning him, don’t you?” He commented.
Y/N cocked her head as she looked at him, her brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”
Lando laughed humourlessly, “Dear God, you really have no idea?” He paused, “Y/N, Charles has been flirting non-stop with you for ages. How on earth have you not noticed?”
She stopped walking and looked at him in confusion, “He’s not flirting with me, Lando, he’s just being nice. He’s a good friend.”
“I’m actually quite sure he’s flirting with you, Y/N. So is everyone else. You could literally ask any of the drivers, and they would confirm it. The Ferrari employees too, I reckon. He likes you, Y/N.” He said unimpressed.
“Charles likes me?” She asked softly, suddenly turning shy, a blush creeping onto her face.
Lando sighed, realising his friend was even more oblivious than he initially thought. “Yeah, he does. I’m honestly surprised you’ve never noticed.” He gently squeezed her shoulder before they parted ways.
— — —
For the rest of the day, Y/N thought about Lando’s words. She thought about all her interactions with Charles over the last few months and realised that he did compliment her quite often.
Once, on a sunny afternoon, Y/N was chatting with some of the Ferrari team members near the garage when Charles spotted her. He, as always, decided to walk over to talk with her, his usual charming smile on his face and mischief in his eyes.
"Y/N, only you can make a sunny day even brighter," he said with a big, playful smile and admiration in his voice.
Y/N blinked at him, surprised by his sudden appearance and his bold statement. "Oh, thank you, Charles! That's really sweet of you to say."
Unfazed by her obliviousness, Charles pressed on, determined to make his feelings known after such a long time. "No, really," he insisted, his gaze unwavering. "I mean it. You bring a brightness to the paddock that I can't quite explain."
Y/N laughed softly, “Well, um, thank you. That’s very kind. What can I say? I try my best.” She replied with a smile.
Another time, Y/N was in the team hospitality when she accidentally spilt her drink, leaving an obvious stain on her white shirt. Charles, who was, unsurprisingly, standing nearby (as always), had noticed immediately and courteously offered one of his extra Ferrari shirts. When he saw the girl he had liked for months in his clothes, wearing his driver’s number, he naturally couldn’t resist the urge to flirt with Y/N.
"Have I ever told you how stunning you look in red?" he remarked, his eyes sparkling with mischief and fondness at the sight of her.
Y/N laughed and replied, "No, I don't think you have," smiling at him in a friendly manner.
"Well, consider it said," he said, his tone playful. "You wear it better than anyone else, that's for sure."
Y/N laughed softly, appreciating her friend’s words, "I doubt that’s true, but thanks, Charles."
Thinking back to these moments, Y/N realised maybe Charles had indeed been flirting with her. However, he might just be like that with all of his friends, complimenting everyone he cares about. Nevertheless, now that Lando had brought this to her attention, she would surely pay extra attention to what Charles would say to her tomorrow.
— — —
The next day, Charles had caught her in a conversation again. They were talking about the race and the current situation with Ferrari. He mentioned the pressure from the team and all the fans that want him to do well, and that the car and the strategies aren’t working the way he wants them to. Of course, Y/N tried to reassure him; to relieve the pressure and stress Charles was feeling. He absolutely adored the way she was trying to comfort him and was not afraid to let her know, “I have to admit, Y/N, nobody can cheer me up like you can. You calm my nerves like no one else,” he said, looking at her lovingly while he expressed his feelings.
Y/N didn’t know how to respond. This was the first time she noticed he was flirting with her whilst he was actually doing it, and she had no idea how to react. When she felt her face heat up, she could only assume she was blushing from the nerves. She diverted her gaze, trying to come up with a good reply to Charles’s advances. How did she usually respond when Charles complimented her? She couldn’t remember now.
Charles was confused at Y/N’s lack of response to his remark. Normally, she’d immediately smile at him and thank him for whatever compliment he’d come up with, but now, she was looking away, and - was he seeing that right? Was she blushing? He had flirted with her countless times, but she had never blushed at any of his comments. Had she finally noticed his advances? Charles watched her with an amused smile while she searched for the right words.
Eventually, she shyly smiled at him, meeting his eyes in a fleeting glance before responding, “I’m glad to be of help.”
Charles, Charles, proud that he was the one to cause her flustered appearance, decided to push a little further, curious to see what would happen, “You really have no idea how much you mean to me, Y/N. Your support helps me so much.” Charles smiled gently and put his hand on her arm. When there’s no immediate response, he continues, “Anyway, I have to get ready for the race. I’ll see you later, yeah?” Y/N merely nodded and watched him walk away.
Her brother had been watching the interaction from a distance, observing the way his sister responded to Charles’s obvious flirting and, too, noticing the difference. “You finally figured it out, huh?” He said with a teasing smile. Y/N rolled her eyes at him in annoyance, but Carlos just continued, “You should let him know you like him too.” Y/N didn’t respond. “You do like him don’t you?” He asks, confused at her unresponsiveness. “Leave me alone, Carlos!” She replied, pushing her brother away. He laughed at her; that reaction was enough for him to know the answer to his question. He ruffled her hair and walked away, also needing to get ready for the race.
After her short talk with Charles, Y/N was sure that he liked her, but how to proceed? She could barely focus on the cars going around the track while all types of ideas were racing around in her head. What on earth was she supposed to do now? Should she wait until the next time Charles would flirt with her, or should she make the move instead? Considering Carlos’s advice, she decided she should take matters into her own hands.
She walked up to Charles as soon as she saw him entering the garage after the race. She had always thought Charles was incredibly attractive – like most women, but he looked especially handsome after he had raced.
“Hey, good job on the race!” She greeted Charles, pulling him into a hug. She looked at him for a second or two, contemplating whether she should actually do this. She smiled up at him shyly, “You know, I love the way your hair looks after a race.” She said blushing, running one of her hands through his messy hair. Charles is surprised at her comment, but he’s shocked at her hand in his hair. This is the first time she has complimented him – or at least, initiated it. Let alone, her touching him in such an intimate way. His eyes were wide and his mouth was slightly agape as he stared at her in disbelief. It was now Charles’s turn to be flustered as Y/N finally reciprocated his attempts at flirting.
In his silence, Y/N decided to continue, “It’s hot.” She said, avoiding eye contact. Charles was unsure how to respond. He had never experienced a situation like this before; he always knew exactly what to say, but she had caught him off guard. After Y/N had friend-zoned him countless times, he was definitely not expecting this; he was not sure what to do.
The absence of a reply only made Y/N more nervous. She distanced herself from him, letting her hand fall from his hair, realising she probably shouldn’t have touched him without permission. Charles was quick to notice her retreat and held her face to stop her from leaving. He raised her chin to make their eyes meet and asked her softly, “Let me take you to dinner?” while he stared at her with adoration.
Y/N smiled at him fondly and nodded her head, “I’d like that, Charles. I’d really like that.”
“Good,” He said firmly, his smile growing wider, matching hers. “I have to leave now for the debrief, but I’ll text you, okay?”
Y/N nodded her head in response, letting out a hum. Charles pulled her face closer with the hand on her cheek, and fleetingly kissed her forehead before leaving, looking over his shoulder to catch her gaze one last time.
Y/N stood still in shock for a while, processing what just happened. She had agreed to go on a date with Charles. She was staring outside, letting the situation sink in as she watched people pass by in the busy paddock. Suddenly, she spotted Lando waving wildly at her, trying to get her attention. When he realised that she had seen him, he smiled mischievously and gave her a thumbs-up, assuming the kiss he saw Charles give her was a good sign. Y/N rolled her eyes at him, annoyed by his nosiness, but Lando just laughed, amused at her bother and glad his meddling had helped.
#Sainz!Reader#Charles Leclerc x Sainz!Reader#Charles Leclerc#Charles#Leclerc#Fanfic#Fanfiction#Charles Leclerc fanfic#Charles Leclerc fanfiction#Charles fanfic#Charles fanfiction#Charles Leclerc x reader#Charles Leclerc x you#Charles x reader#Charles x you#Formula 1#Formula 1 fanfic#Formula 1 fanfiction#F1#F1 fanfic#F1 fanfiction#CL16 fanfic#CL16 fanfiction#CL16 x reader#CL16 x you#CL16 imagine#CL16 one shot#CL16#Charles Leclerc one shot#Charles Leclerc imagine
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MAIN THING (teaser)
18+ / mdi
summary: after years of insistence from soonyoung, he finally convinces resident social butterfly seungkwan to introduce him to his unrequited crush; a fellow idol at hybe who he has not been able to take his eyes off since moving to the company.
content: idol!hoshi x hybeidol!reader, simp!hoshi, he's down horribly bad, seungkwan is fed up with hoshi, afab reader, smut, oral (m receiving), penetrative sex, etc.
(^ no actual content warnings in the teaser)
wc: 746 (teaser); 11k (full fic)
RELEASE DATE: june 14th
or you can check it out on my ko-fi or patreon today by subscribing to either one!
a/n: time for more horrendously down bad hoshi
masterlist
"Just introduce me to her. Please," whined Soonyoung for the nth time that week.
"I already said no! Just go talk to her yourself like a normal person," rebutted Seungkwan, attempting but failing at disregarding his insistent friend.
"He can't do that. Last time they made eye contact he ran to hide behind Mingyu," snickered Jeonghan, invested in this conversation whenever it was brought up.
"I just need you to get the ball rolling. Please, Kwan-ah," he pleaded as he got up in Seungkwan's personal space – a thing everyone knew not to do.
Rolling his eyes, he sighed, "She already knows who you are, you know. There's no need to introduce you," he muttered under his breath.
"Wait, what. She does? Like knows knows me? Or just knows of Hoshi of Seventeen?", his eyes widened in shock, grabbing onto Seungkwan's shoulders to get his full attention.
"She knows Kwon Soonyoung, dumbass. She's one of my closest friends, why wouldn't she know of you?", he grumbled, attempting to shake off his friend.
Soonyoung sighed at the short-lived hope he had of you having maybe taken an interest to him and brought him up in conversation with Seungkwan, just to have confirmation (yet again) of you simply knowing him as Seungkwan's groupmate.
It had been two, no, three years since Soonyoung had first developed a special interest in you. Thinking back to when Pledis was first acquired by Hybe, Soonyoung still remembered the first time he saw you in person very vividly.
Instantly, he developed a crush on you from the very first glance, only falling further any time you'd cross paths in the building.
He had known of your existence before that, of course, but had never truly acknowledged his obvious crush on you until he first met you in person.
Unfortunately for Soonyoung, he was far too shy and introverted to ever actually engage in conversation with you, much less slide his way into your life the way Seungkwan so easily had – Seungkwan, who had become one of your closest friends. On the contrary, Soonyoung would actively go out of his way to avoid you, never even so much as making eye contact whenever Seungkwan would bring you around.
It was easy for him to become the mockery of the members due to this. Leave it to him to have his years-long crush become best friends with one of his best friends, leading him to your constant, nerve-wracking proximity.
At some point he decided that maybe he should break out of his shell – the shell he had created specifically to shield himself from his feelings for you. He decided that instead of avoiding you, he'd do the next best thing ... which was to ask Seungkwan to officially re-introduce you to each other.
You were blissfully unaware of Soonyoung's crush, he knew that much. Did you know of his existence? Barely, as you'd only interacted a handful of times, with those always being brief and impersonal interactions. This gave Soonyoung the perfect opportunity to start brand new with you. Except he'd need the help of his most extroverted friend, who just so happened to be your best friend.
After begging Seungkwan to please work his social butterfly magic on him, he found himself unsuccessful. Seungkwan would merely scoff and tell him to grow up, leading Soonyoung to be mocked by one of the other eleven members, and then the cycle would repeat. Currently, it was Jeonghan's turn to snicker at Soonyoung's misery, it seemed.
Taking note of Soonyoung's pouty lips and saddened demeanor, Jeonghan took pity on him and clapped his hands decisively before speaking up again.
"Okay, how about you let Hoshining here take your place in doing the TikTok challenge for maestro with Y/N? If they hit it off, then you've done your due diligence, and if not, Soonie can just go get fucked. Everybody wins," he suggested as he shrugged at Seungkwan.
Soonyoung lit up at this, choosing to completely disregard the last two sentences of his suggestion. This was more than enough for him to get the ball rolling.
Immediately joining in on the plan, he turned to Seungkwan once more, ready to beg again.
"Don't say anything," Seungkwan shushed him with a lift of his finger, opposite hand now digging into his temple in what Soonyoung hoped to simply be exaggerated annoyance, "I'll do it, just, please grant me twenty minutes of silence," he pleaded.
That worked well enough for Soonyoung.
...
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#seventeen x reader#seventeen fanfic#svt fanfic#svt x reader#seventeen imagine#seventeen#seventeen oneshot#svt#seventeen smut#svt smut#svt oneshot#hoshi fanfic#hoshi imagines#hoshi x reader#hoshi smut#soonyoung smut#soonyoung x reader#soonyoung scenarios#soonyoung fanfic#bookmarks
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Royality ~ SCB
CONTINUATION OF THIS PIECE
WORD COUNT: 3.2K
GENRE: Mafia AU, SMUT MINORS DNI, mafia changbin being a huge simp for yn, pulling off a job together, first time, cute, fluffy, blow job, unprotetced sex,
PAIRING: Changbin x Fem!Reader
⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - February 2024
⤜MASTERLIST
TRIGGER WARNING: Mentions of blood, killing, stealing, heists
"I'll come and get you every night from now on. I don't want anything to happen to you," When Changbin had first said it to you, you thought he meant that he was going to keep sending a driver out to you but you couldn't have been more wrong. For the last 12 months, whenever you were working, Changbin was waiting outside of your apartment with a warm drink ready to take you to work.
The arrangement had been simple and kind of him and you got to know him over the nights you'd spend together. You loved getting to spend this time with him and you'd grown so close he was beginning to include you on his plans and jobs.
Over the last few months, you'd sung in different clubs he was frequenting while his men and other ladies robbed and stole from people in the crowds. Tonight was a little different though which you could tell was making Changbin a little more nervous than usual. It was his last big heist for a long time, after tonight he was strictly going to be on his own business deals instead of getting involved with the dirty work but it was still strange to see him so anxious about something.
It wasn't like him to be nervous about any of his jobs but since bringing you into them he'd grown protective over you and worried that you'd get hurt because of him. If something ever happened to you he was sure he wouldn't be able to survive it and that scared him more than anything else in the world.
No one should have that much power over someone and yet when it came to you, Changbin would lay his life on the line or throw himself in front of a bus if you ever asked him to.
"Binnie, you okay?" Your voice came out soft making him remember what he was doing and who he was in the car with. He slowly turned to glance at you, nodding before his eyes went straight back to the road. But you knew something was bothering him since his knuckles were starting to turn white with how hard he was gripping the steering wheel.
"Are you sure you're up for this tonight, princess?" He asked, using the affectionate nickname he'd given to you long ago and it made your whole body tingle. A flicker of concern crossed Changbin's voice and you smiled a little.
"Of course, Binnie." It was your reply every single time he asked you to join him on a job and it would continue to be your answer.
"I'm always ready to light up the stage," You smirked at him. It was your job to sing for the crowds and distract them enough so they wouldn't realise that they were being robbed. Changbin's job was to be overly friendly with the owners, and keep himself busy with them so they'd have no idea he was in connection with them and when the news would break out about the robbery. Changbin would be there to offer his protection - with significant pay that was.
"That's my girl," Changbin beamed in admiration of you. Tonight was going to be the last job and the biggest one either of you was going to pull off. Inside the club there were going to be billionaires, it was a special night for them with the club owner working closely with Changbin to pull something huge off.
You hadn't known all of the details, just that you'd be singing for the rich and famous who would be wowed by you and many of the female dancers that would be with them on the floor.
"Tonight is the last one, after this, we'll be royalty," Changbin smirked and you rolled your eyes at him. Changbin was already Royalty, everyone knew who he was and he was rich beyond anyone's wildest dreams.
"You mean you'll be king," You teased him softly, Changbin reached his hand across and gently squeezed your thigh.
"You'll be on the throne right beside me if you wanted, princess, you know that." He winked as he rounded the corner to the club.
The neon sign flickered outside and he sighed a little, it was now or never for him and he slowly got out of the car, walking to your side and helping you out.
"Remember, Princess, stick close to me. We don't know who might be lurking in the shadows." You resisted the urge to tell him that he'd found you in the shadows as a man began making his way toward you. As he got closer you recognised him from a charity gala not long back, he was one of Changbin's closest friends.
"I've got your back, Binnie. Just like you've got mine." You promised, quickly kissing his cheek making his cheeks flame a little, he stared at you before someone gripped his shoulder.
"Changbin! Yn! So wonderful you could join us tonight." Lorenzo greeted, taking your hand in his and kissing the top of it gently causing Changbin's blood to boil.
He hated that people would touch you whenever they wanted to, if it was down to him it would only be his hands allowed to grace your body.
"I didn't think you'd be able to make it tonight," Lorenzo said, turning his attention to Changbin who gave him a simple and smug smile.
"And miss my girl sing? Never." You smiled, your body heating up as he called you his girl.
Your relationship with Changbin had been strictly professional when everything had started but as you grew closer the lines began to blur and you'd flirt back and forth with one another.
You didn't know what was a joke and when he was being serious with you and to be honest, you didn't care. The attention you got from him was something unlike you'd ever felt before and you never wanted that high to end.
"The stage is ready for her, but she won't be able to go on wearing that." Lorenzo dragged his eyes slowly up and down your body as you frowned. You were wearing a red floor-length gown, backless and sexy something you'd wear for almost every single one of your performances.
"It's not sexy enough." Lorzeno shrugged as you all walked through the back door of the club toward a dressing room door.
"And what do you suggest she wear?" Changbin grumbled folding his arms over his chest, the door to the dressing room opened and Lorenzo smirked,
"Something to match the dancers." He gestured to the girls that were all wearing black mini skirts or shorts, some even in underwear that you could have sworn were riding up their asses. But Changbin was seething, there was no way he was going to let you display your body for some sick fucks who were going to oogle all night long at you.
"Over my dead body."
"People will find it suspicious," Lorenzo grumbled at him,
"Like hell, she won't be wearing-" You knew the two men were only going to continue bickering so you sighed and shook your head.
"Just hand me something in my size, and I'll make it work." Lorenzo headed into the changing room to find you something and Changbin shook his head.
"You shouldn't have to." He pouted a little, he hated the thought of you having to flaunt your body like this,
"It's the last night, right? It'll be the last time and then it's back to dresses and only singing at your club." You reassured him but Changbin was shaking his head at you.
After tonight he wanted you to be by his side, the queen next to him on the throne it was all he'd been wanting for months but he had no idea how to tell you,
"You don't have to sing at my place." He said simply making you giggle a little. If you didn't sing at his place you'd be down on money and you needed that to live,
"I'd be out of a job, Binnie. I need my job."
"Not if you came to stay with me." The air turned thick as you stared at him, wondering if you'd heard him correctly or if your mind was playing games on you.
"What?" You waited for him to tell you he was joking, or that he was just thinking out loud but he stared at you with a serious and unreadable expression.
"If you stay with me, be by my side in all of this..." You stayed silent, neither of you speaking as you tried to figure out what he meant. You needed him to come out and say it to you instead of playing games,
"Binnie...Are you asking what I think you're asking?" He gently ran his hand over your cheek and smirked at you
"We'll be royalty, King and Queen. No one would ever fuck with us again," He spoke so surely of himself you weren't going to argue back with him.
"I'd-" You were cut off by Lorenzo holding up a hanger with clothes on for you.
"People are arriving. Out in the bar Changbin, we need to make this good." Changbin didn't have time to protest as he was shoved out of the side door and you were left alone to smirk to yourself.
You'd rule by his side, that was what he was asking you and you couldn't stop the smile that was beginning to grow on your face.
If Changbin was pissed at Lorenzo before for taking him away from you he was more pissed at what he'd seen the man dress you up in right now.
You were donned in a black leather mini skirt with a black bralette covering your breasts - barely anyway. They were a sheer material with roses covering your nipples, the sight of which had made Changbin hard the second you'd stepped onto the stage and he was sure his pants were going to explode any second now.
"One final song for the night," You spoke into the mic, smirking in Changbin's direction as the band began to play an upbeat song for you. The girls out on the floor started to dance for the men who had their eyes on the women and you all night long.
It had been a long night of Changbin trying not to kill anyone for complimenting your outfit. Every single person it seemed had something to say whenever you'd move on the stage and it grated on him more than he thought it would have and Lorenzo was loving every minute of it. Seeing his friend so riled up it was worth every single grumble he heard back from him.
"She's very good, I wonder if she charges by the hour." Someone chuckled from in front of Changbin making him squeeze his glass so hard it shattered all over his hand. But he hadn't noticed you coming over to him, gently sitting on his lap. A smirk grew on your lips when you felt how hard he was beneath you, your confidence growing more as you sang directly to him.
"I'd take over the country, everyone would bow to me." Your voice was angelic as you sang along to the band, running your hands gently over Changbin's tie and twisting it around your fist.
"Sit up in my palace and baby you'd be my King. We'd run this ship together, just you wait and see...We'll be royalty." You sang the final line before biting his ear softly, giving Changbint confirmation to his earlier question he'd been dying to know all night now.
"Girl it's ride or die." He smirked, running his hands down your hips as he dragged you closer to him, groaning as you ground your hips against him forgetting for a minute that you were in a crowded bar until someone cleared their throat behind you.
"When you're done with her can I use her, I don't mind sloppy seconds." You barely had time to react before the man was on the floor, a bullet hole in the middle of his forehead. You didn't even flinch or scream, it was something you'd grown used to after spending so much time with Changbin.
"He was disrespecting you." He said plainly making you giggle as he stood up, taking your hand in his. People stared over at you in horror but your hands were caressing Changbins chest softly
"Does anyone else here have anything that they need to say about my girl?" He turned his attention to the group who all turned to look at their laps and Changbin smirked.
"I'll come and help you get dressed." He suggested as you slowly made your way through the crowd and back toward the stage door.
"Do you think I need help?" You asked in a teasing tone only for Changbin to grab your ass softly and squeeze.
"Maybe." He winks dragging you toward the backstage door.
"Out." He growled at the people who were back there who quickly scampered out of the room leaving you both alone.
"So you'll be King and I'm queen?" You questioned, running your hands over your bralette and smirking as Changbin's eyes never left you.
"Whatever you want princess, it's yours." He promised as he slowly stalked toward you, but you shoved him down onto the sofa that was inside the changing rooms and smirked at him.
"I want you, I always wanted you." You breathed out, slowly sinking to your knees in front of him. You palmed his coc through his pants, feeling him strain against the material as he let out a disgruntled groan from how slow you were going.
"Princess. I need you, you don't have to do this," He whined as you slowly began to pull him free from his pants until he was naked in front of you, your mouth watering at the sight of him. You'd wondered how big he was before and nothing you'd been imagining had been like this. You wrapped your palm around his cock and began to pump him slowly, rolling your wrist as you circled the tip at a slow and steady pace,
"F-Fuck, princess." He groaned out, rolling his hips up to get you to move a little face as he greedily searched for more from you.
"Patience, Binnie." You giggled before running your tongue along the tip of his cock before you moved to wrap your mouth around him. Your tongue swirled along the underside of his length, tracing the veins as you slowly lowered your head. Your eyes shut as you bobbed your head, trying to take as much of him as you could at a steady pace.
"Shit princess, you're so good at that," He moans out loudly, your hand moved to cup his balls squeezing them teasingly between your fingers up he grunts loudly.
"Shitting hell," His hands gripped the sofa cushions as he tried to list baseball players in his head preventing him from finishing too soon.
"S-Stop, I'm too close," He moans out, you slowly pull away from him and giggle a little.
"You don't want to cum?"
"Not in your mouth." He growled before dragging you onto his lap, kissing you hungrily while wrapping his arms around your waist and dragging you closer to him.
"You're going to be the death of me." He moans out against your lips, your hips grinding against him as he practically rips the leather skirt off you.
"I'm on the shot, please Binnie." You didn't care how desperate you sounded as you watched Changbin line himself up with you before pushing inside of you, filling you to the hilt.
"F-Fuck, Binnie you're so big." You cry out, your eyes screwed shut as you clutched onto him trying to adjust to him. It was only a few seconds before he gripped your hips and slammed into you again and again, his cock driving into you and hitting that one spot that made your toes curl.
"Just like that!" You cried out, your hands dragging down his bag as you searched for anything to cling onto. You held onto him as your head rolled back in ecstasy, the pressure inside of you building as it hit near breaking point.
"C-Changbin!" You cried out, grinding your clit against him on every stroke of his cock,
"Good girl," Changbin groans, biting down on your nipple as your skin is covered in goosebumps.
"Look at the mess you're making, princess," He grunts as he looks down between you, his thrusting getting rougher each time.
"Maybe I should make you lick it clean while I fuck you," He moans out, your hips circling as you cried out his name. Your orgasm slams into you making your back arch from the sofa.
Within a couple of seconds, you were on the floor though, on your knees in front of the sofa with Changbin behind you, pushing into you as you cry out his name again clutching onto the sofa in front of you.
"Good girl," He groaned, running hands down your back as he gripped your hips tightly and began to pound into you. Your mind felt as though it was blank as he continued to fuck into you, completely knocking the air out of your lungs.
"Do you want everyone to hear how much you love being fucked?" He moans out reaching in front of you and pinching your clit sending you over the deep end again as you screamed his name out, cumming around him as you heard him grunt a little until his hips came to a slow stop.
"Fuck, you're so perfect," He moans out, kissing your shoulders softly as you both lay there sweaty and panting together enjoying being close.
"That sounds awful, I'm so glad you're okay." You said to Jisung's girlfriend, Who had been telling you all about how she'd been caught up in a bank job a few months back with a gun pressed against her head.
"We will date dangerous men," Hyunjin’s girl said said making you giggle, and turn your attention to the quietest one with you. It was Seungmin’s date and she’d been left with you while the guys had left to go and talk business leaving you all to gossip about them behind their backs. Seungmin’s girl had only been out with him once, meaning this was their first date and you worried it was scaring her but it seemed to fuel her more as she beamed with excitment.
"My ears are burning," Changbin chuckled as he snaked his arm around your waist and pulled you close to him, you quickly kissed his lips softly.
"All good things," You promised as he smirked down at you,
"I hope so, I hate to think of my baby girl bad-mouthing me," Chan said as he grabbed his wife from behind and kissed up and down her neck making everyone chuckle in the small circle that was forming.
"I hate you," Someone grumbled as Felix stood behind her, you'd not been introduced yet but she'd been fairly quiet since getting there.
"I hate you more, my little firecracker" Felix smirked down at her before she swatted his hands away from her.
"Muse, little muse is making a fuss, we have to go," Hyunjin said before he and his wife made an exit and you dragged Changbin onto the dance floor.
"I'm sorry about them all," He mumbled before you loved it, spending time at events with them was fun.
"I like it, it's like a mini family." You giggled, swaying with your fiancé on the dance floor.
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Being Ao’nung’s expected mate:
Author’s note: Ao’nung is a huge simp for the reader, and the reader is just precious. Protect them at all costs.
At first, when Ao’nung found out that you were to be his mate, he was defensive
You tried to be as nice as possible when you had to introduce yourself
But he kept cutting your conversations short
You were already friends with Tsireya, but now that you were to be her brother’s mate, you grew closer
You saw her family more often too
It was a normal day when you bumped into Ao’nung
And he had to ruin your happy mood by being rude
Tsireya had enough
“You could be less rude to them, you know. They never wanted this either.”
They def argued after that
Ao’nung never felt good when he shut you out, but he couldn’t help it
If you hadn’t been forced to be his mate, he probably could’ve fell for you naturally
And he felt like crap every time he saw your smile fade because of him
In all honestly he found you and your smile beautiful
And he hated whenever Tsireya scolded him for making you feel terrible and cry
One day you were laughing with Tsireya and then you saw him
You immediately became quiet and looked uncomfortable
His heart sank
Tsireya gave him a look and he walked pass without a word
He finally decided to apologize the next day, asking you to meet by the waters
“I know I’ve been treating you in the worst possible way.”
Bla bla bla
You still looked uncomfortable just sitting next to him
He promised he’d make up for all the terrible things he had done
Starting now
He led you to an underwater alcove
Your eyes widened when you entered
It was filled with glowing flowers
‘Tsireya told me you love these. Will you take it as my first form of an apology?’ he signed, offering a bracelet made out of the stuff
You hesitantly offer your arm out and he tied it around your wrist
‘Thank you’ you gave him a small smile
He started getting less defensive around you after that
He stopped making hurtful comments or doing anything rude
And once he stopped, he was finally able to actually look at you, and when he did, he couldn’t take his eyes off you
The way you’d play with the kids, the way you’d run off with his sister to do something you weren’t supposed to, the way his name sounded when you said it
And the way you would smile at him
He always liked your smile, but now he found it even more mesmerizing than it already was
Tsireya started noticing how his lingering glances on you would last a tad bit too long
She held back a snort when he accidentally tripped because he was too busy looking at you and not the ground in front of him
She never said anything about it to you, but she made sure to always let Ao’nung know that she knew
The conversations between the two of you grew longer and he started to open up
He starts teasing you
Knowing that it annoys you spurs him to go on
Showing him any form of annoyed reaction is equivalent with encouraging him to continue
He would splash water to your face out of nowhere in the most unecessary times
You would hit the back of his head and give him a heated glare
Which he finds very hot
But you were still a little reserved
The thought that there was a high possibility that you still resented him hurted
Especially when he knew he fell for you
Some nights the two of you spent outside his Marui, talking and enjoying the reflection in the water
His whole body would unconciously lean towards you everytime
Tonight in particular, you decided to lean against him, resting your head on his chest
Ao’nung froze
“Relax. It’s not like I’m asking you to mate with me.”
He became even more flustered
Just because the thought had already crossed his mind multiple nights
Eventually, he would relax and wrap an arm around you
You both basked in the peace
Until Ao’nung randomly blurts out ‘Do you still hate me?’
You shifted yourself away to look at him, much to his disappointment
“What? No.”
Let’s just say it took a couple of bold words and moves to convince him that you didn’t hate him
You felt lightheaded
He had your back pressed up against the wall of the Marui and his hands were deperately trying to pull you closer as he deepened the kiss
His mouth was doing a good job at muffling the tiny sounds that came out of you
But eventually he had to pull away, keeping a finger below your chin as he gazed down at your flushed state through hooded eyes
The two of you couldn’t have been any louder when Aonung’s family were sleeping just through the wall behind you
Tsireya definitely heard.
#ao’nung#ao’nung x reader#imagine#ao’nung imagine#headcanon#fanfic#fanfiction#drabble#oneshot#fluff#avatar#avatar: the way of water#gender neutral reader#tsireya#x reader#metkayina#metkayina reader
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A Punishment to Remember
(Use of the word cunt. Reader doesn’t mind feminine clothing.)
Minors DNI
Kinks/Warnings: Bondage, Toys, Overstimulation, Dacryphilia, Mean Dom Tighnari
I’m a hardcore Tighnari simp, don’t judge my fantasy. Lmao
Being in a relationship with Tighnari let you discover a few things about yourself. One, being the fact that feminine clothing made you feel more free. Two being that you absolutely loved headpats. And three, you’re one horny bitch.
“Nari, p- please...” you stutter, body jolting with every pulse of the toy inside you.
The fox simply glances at you, fidgeting with a small device in his hand before returning to reading. This was supposed to be a punishment, but the man couldn’t say no to your tearful face, at least sometimes.
You writhe in your place on your shared bed, hands still tied together behind your back. Your feet and legs are separated with a bar, giving the fox the perfect view of your lower half whenever he wishes to look at you. You take the few moments you know you have to gather your breath, shifting in your place to a better area covered in less of your fluids than the previous. The punishment had been going on for at least an hour, the fox leaving the bed after only a few minutes of watching you squirm.
The reasoning for the punishment was dumb, really. You had gotten particularly distracted in trying to beat Cyno in a game of TCG, completely forgetting to return the book you had borrowed from the library a week prior. Your perfect record of non-overdue books had been broken, because of a simple card game. Honestly, if it were anyone else Tighnari wouldn’t care. He’d simply remind you of the book in your satchel when you returned home and he’d watch you leave the house once again to return said book. Unfortunately, or... fortunately, you were a horny bastard telling him to punish you anytime he deemed it necessary.
Electricity shoots up your spine as the toy continues its previous vibrations, the intensity much higher than before. A rabbit vibrator was the toy of choice for today’s activity, the toy being able to stimulate both your insides and your tiny dick.
“I want you to apologize to me for wasting perfectly good daylight playing card games when you were supposed to be returning this book.” Tighnari finally speaks, shutting the book in his hands with a loud snap.
“I’m sORrY!” You start, the vibrations inside you intensify making you arch your back. A sinful moan leaves your swollen lips as you cum for what felt like the tenth time that night. In all honesty, you had lost track of your orgasms after the third.
A small chuckle leaves the fennec fox as he watches you squirm in your place on the bed. He watches as your walls desperately try and push the toy out, a small string thankfully keeping it in place. He had thought of everything to make this the most pleasurable punishment he could.
Before another loud moan can rip through you, soft lips smash against your swollen ones, swallowing the moan in your throat. Tighnari’s tongue forces your mouth open, not that you were complaining, fighting yours for dominance. Almost as quickly as the fight starts it ends, you happily letting the man’s tongue explore your mouth. No spot is left untouched as your tongues dance together in a passionate make out.
You freeze as a particularly loud moan leaves you, almost biting the other’s tongue off. The toy had turned to its max, the harsh vibrations make you cum once again, mouth opening in a silent scream. Tighnari watches with wide eyes as liquid sprays from your cunt, chuckling as your legs twitch much more than before.
Tears stream from your eyes as you beg the fox to stop the vibrations ripping orgasms out of you left and right. Your sensitivity had finally caught up to you, making the once pleasurable vibrations almost unbearable.
“One more, love. I know you can give me one more like that.” Tighnari whispers, rotating the vibrator inside you. He separates the other part from your dick, choosing instead to rub the nub by himself. His hands are skillful as he watches your cunt pulse with each movement from his hand. His left hand grips the handle on the toy, thrusting it in and out of you as his right speeds its assault on your dick.
Your back involuntarily arches as a pornographic moan leaves your throat. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you squirt once more, vision going white for a few seconds.
“There you go. Is my handsome baby satisfied?” Tighnari whispers in your ear. You nod your head as much as you can, sleep threatening to take you. “Sleep, my prince. I will take care of this mess for you.”
You let out a small hum, vision going black as you pass out from exhaustion. The last thing you hear is a faint chuckle from the man beside you.
#bottom male reader#male reader#male reader smut#Smut#tighnari x male reader#tighnari x reader#genshin x reader#uke male reader#sub male reader#genshin x male reader#mdni#transmaculine#trans male reader#ftm#genshin x ftm#tighnari x ftm#dom tighnari#male readersmut
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DON'T SWEAT IT. - l.jh
Today — the first time in a small forever that he forgot to check the battery on his earphones (and subsequently had them die on him mid-workout) — Jihoon is forced to notice you.
pairing; lee jihoon x fem!reader.
content; fluff / gym crush au / strangers to lovers / kinda idiots to lovers / smut towards the end (MINORS DNI).
w/c; just a breezy 18k- and some change?
warnings; swearing, this is only proof read once because if i read it again i was going to lose my mind. please let me know if i've forgotten any. smut tags under the cut
( not sure that this counts as a warning but a heads up: the gym weight units, whenever mentioned, are in kilograms not lbs because i’m british and the metric system, am i right? sorry if there are any other british-isms, i try really hard to avoid them/catch them on a proofread but there are inevitably some that have slipped through the net. )
note; gym-selfie jihoon, you will never not own my ass.
( screaming internally this is the first fic i've written since my dan + phil youtube era. i don't know what i'm doing. this has been in my wips for about two months. it's a bit all over the place. that's. literally just me. bon appetite. <3 )
smut warnings: making out, grinding, fingering (f rec), oral (f rec), blowjob started/implied (at the end), protected sex (be safe out there gang), little bit of biting, no huge power dynamics? reader & jihoon are both switches (and simps), some use of pet-names (good girl/baby).
—————
He first sees you around lunchtime on an otherwise unassuming Sunday.
As you walk in, the gym is wonderfully quiet. A handful of regulars mill about, making full use of the rare freedom of the machinery. One of the club’s personal trainers is marching an impossibly steep incline on a treadmill. It could just be any other weekend session in this criminally over-equipped and under-used gym: the town’s worst kept secret. But when the door slams shut behind you, his head jerks up; it, in this moment, is the loudest sound in the room. It’s sort of the only one he hears at all.
Today — the first time in a small forever that he forgot to check the battery on his earphones (and subsequently had them die on him mid-workout) — Jihoon is forced to notice you as he sits with dumbbells rested against his thighs. He catches his breath as he wonders who you are, if you’ve ever been to this gym before, why he doesn’t recognise you. Are you a new potential regular, maybe? Or just visiting the area and making good use of the cheap pay-as-you-go rates? Maybe, he considers, lips turning downwards in thought… maybe you’ve been coming here for a long time and he’s somehow just always been so in his own head that he’s never noticed.
The last, he thinks, is sort of unlikely. No. He would definitely remember a face like yours.
His heart rate slows more than he usually lets it as he finds himself watching you fill up your water bottle at the fountain, taking a long sip on your way over to one of the stairmasters. His brain blanks out when he realises that he’s not just looking anymore, he’s sort of staring, and swallows the saliva on his tongue hard, looking back at the mirror. He doesn’t want to be that guy. He isn’t that guy – he just got distracted by the loud noise, and this is exactly why he checks the damn battery on his headphones before he leaves the house.
The only problem is that now, he can’t remember how many sets he’s done. He lies back and stares straight into a slightly sketchy light-fixture, neglecting to pick up the dumbbells that he put aside for his next set of pushes. Jihoon adjusts the position of his shoulders against the bench, arches his back off it slightly, digs his heels into the spongy floor beneath them and pushes the ones still in his hands until failure.
Today, he finishes his routine and leaves the gym without allowing himself so much as another glance your way.
He neglects to notice that your eyes are avoiding him right back.
—————
You smile at him for the first time on a Tuesday. Not the following one – a week and a bit later.
Seungcheol is with him tonight. Jihoon prefers to train alone nine times out of ten: this is a truth widely acknowledged, accepted and respected among his friends. Gym time is his down time, his equivalent of movie marathons and comfort food, of face masks and glasses of wine. But it’s not a hard rule: occasionally, someone will ask to tag along and use one of his guest passes, and Jihoon very rarely says no. There are two reasons. One, he isn’t actually rude, contrary to approximately eighteen running jokes in the group-chat. But also, it adds a little bit of variety to his otherwise very set-in-stone regimen, and mixing it up doesn’t hurt. Like tonight, for example. Seungcheol is pulling him into the studio off the main gym floor, his own gym bag packed with boxing pads and gloves for them to play with.
Variety.
Jihoon grumbles a little at the idea, at first. He has a very love-hate relationship with cardio, favouring a simple steady-state run over everything else, and it just feels a bit against his moral code to use gym time for something like this. However, he comes to discover very quickly that smacking Seungcheol’s hands is very therapeutic; Jihoon knows he’s maybe getting a little too into it when his friend asks if they can switch around, grimacing and shaking out his wrist after a particularly beefy punch.
He agrees, albeit reluctantly, tugging off the gloves he’s wearing and pulling on the pads instead.
This half of the activity is considerably less enjoyable for Jihoon; he starts to cool down and loses his flow almost straight away and after about thirty seconds, his breathing is back to normal and he feels ready to go again. Even so, he does what he needs to do to be a good workout partner, and goes one step further into ‘good friend’ territory as he allows Seungcheol to vent about the bad day he had at work in-between hits, offering murmurs and looks of disgust when it feels appropriate. Suddenly, the impromptu request to come to the gym tonight makes much more sense, as does the slightly bizarre choice of activity, but Jihoon tries not to ask about it in too much detail.
They swing at each other for a few more rounds apiece, working up a healthy sweat and getting out a few frustrations as the hour wears on. On the last set, Jihoon switches out Seungcheol’s hands for a punching bag, putting a lot more of his weight behind every hit and really tiring himself out. By the end, his hair sticks to his forehead and his cheeks have flushed bright red; he only stops when he gets that weird, metallic taste in the back of his mouth that says he’s probably overdone it. Again.
“Hit the shower?” Seungcheol asks breathlessly as he finishes his last set of Russian twists and lies down flat on the floor, equally sticky and flushed all over.
Jihoon pats his face dry with his towel, shaking his head. “You go ahead. I’ll have one at home.”
He doesn’t give Seungcheol much of a chance to respond, already cleaning down anything he’s touched or managed to sweat on and riding out the high of the endorphins flooding his veins. Secretly, he hasn’t had a cardio session this high energy or this satisfying in a long time. He isn’t going to readily admit to that though.
“Nah, I’ll do the same,” Seungcheol agrees. He starts packing the gear he brought with him into his bag and they leave together after, heading towards the exit.
That’s when he sees you again.
He doesn’t notice at first; you’re stowing your things into one of the higher lockers, and you have your headphones slung around your neck as he walks past. It’s the sound of a song he vaguely recognises through your speakers that makes his head snap over from the conversation he’s in the middle of. They walk past at the moment you drop down from your tiptoes, and you flash a small (but insanely pretty) smile at Jihoon.
By the time he manages to process this fact, he’s already walked past you and you’re headed over into the main gym area, so even though he turns around to try and catch your eye, all he sees is your retreating figure. He stumbles over his own feet, not looking where he’s going, and just barely catches himself on Seungcheol’s upper arm before he actually does fall over. His older friend glances down at his bicep before he adopts a look that Jihoon has seen many, many times before: just never directed at him. His cheeks heat up further and he looks away.
“What was that?” Seungcheol asks, one eyebrow so far up his forehead that it’s disappeared almost entirely under his soggy hair. He looks so smug, so incredibly entertained. Jihoon wants to smack that expression off his face, immediately.
“Nothing,” Jihoon rushes, managing not to act on the violent thought even though he wants to. He clears his throat. “No-one. I-... they’re new, I think. I don’t know.”
Seungcheol lets out a soft laugh, pushing the door open for them both to leave through. “Yeah,” he scoffs, eyes glimmering with something Jihoon doesn’t think he likes the look of. “Nothing, my ass.”
—————
Three days later, he hears you speak for the first time.
Granted, you aren’t speaking to him – at least, not at first. But that’s not really what matters.
It’s late, and it’s a Friday night. Fridays are usually Jihoon’s days rest days, but sitting around his apartment had him feeling impossibly twitchy, with far too much energy to burn and no way to do so without leaving the house. And he knows that he needs to take days off, now and again. He knows that they’re good for recovery and that it’s healthy to take time to himself that involves not lifting weights. But what he also knows is that if he doesn’t manage to shake the weird buzzing feeling in his muscles, in his joints, in his veins, he’s never going to get to sleep. So, here he finds himself at almost 10PM, walking down the street to get to the gym.
To begin with, he doesn’t know (or really care) who it is that’s coming up behind him. He can hear quite clearly that the mystery person is on the phone, and that they’re in the middle of what seems to be a rather heated argument: his brain latches onto occasional words, phrases, curses. Every now and again, their voice drops to a deep, frustrated mutter and he cringes slightly, making a point to keep his eyes forward and down so as not to draw attention to the fact that this presumably private conversation has become everything but.
He touches his entry fob to the sensor on the door as he arrives and pushes it open. Jihoon uses the opportunity to stand still, to glance back at whoever it is that’s walked behind him for the past four and a half minutes, and his eyes come to land on you. He falters, noting how your eyes are a bit glassy and your cheeks are stained with what he can safely assume are tear-tracks. In this moment, he wants to run; he doesn’t want anything to do with that, and he certainly doesn’t want to hear any more of your call. It’s none of his business, and he feels plenty weird enough already with what he has overheard. But, for some unknown reason, he stays in place.
“No – no, you don’t get to-...” you hiss into your phone. “It was our fucking anniversary, you asshole.” Jihoon’s face tightens at that, lips drawn between his teeth and his eyes blowing slightly wide. You pass through the door in front of him, flashing a small smile as you go. Another smile, he thinks to himself, but he’d be an idiot to compare them in any way; this one is so dramatically dissimilar to the first, he thinks it could almost have come from a totally different person.
Unfortunately, there’s nothing ‘insanely pretty’ about it this time. Your smile is tight-lipped and exhausted, slightly apologetic. Maybe even forced. He does try to return a warmer one to you, but he doesn’t know if you notice.
“Look, I’m at the gym – we’re not doing this right now. I’ll call you later.” You hang up the phone with the kind of sigh that groans in the back of your throat.
A small part of him wants to take this moment and use it to ask if you’re all right, but an even larger part of him doesn’t. It isn’t because he doesn’t care. In a weird way, considering this is only the first time he’s clearly heard your voice and he knows absolutely nothing about you, he does care. But there are a few things that stop him. Not only are you a near-complete stranger, not only would he have no idea what to say to you if the answer happened to come out as a ‘no’, not only is he already coming over a little bit clammy at the thought of having a conversation with you… Jihoon isn’t stupid. He knows from the sound of your voice and the way you’re rather aggressively typing a message into your phone that it’s a ridiculous question.
You’re walking into the gym at 10 o’clock on a Friday night, your eyes literally brimming with tears. Of course you’re not all right.
He’s still standing in the open doorway mulling all this over, but Jihoon only realises when a gust of wind slaps over his calves and sends a draught not only through the reception area, but up the length of his spine. He comes inside fully as you close the locker you’re using – he notices, but he isn’t sure why, that it’s the same one as last time – and throws his things into the one he always uses. Two below and one to the left of yours.
It’s quiet tonight: just the pair of you and one middle-aged guy. Jihoon recognises him as the friendly man who seemingly knows everyone who comes in here – including you, apparently, judging by the way he strikes up a short but energetic conversation. When the other guy walks away, you clamp your headphones back over your ears and return to what you were doing before, occasionally bobbing your head or moving your lips in time with whatever it is that you’re listening to. Jihoon steals little glances at you now and again when you’re in-between sets, watching how you breathe deeper, how your skin glows with sweat as you tap your fingertips against your thighs.
He almost drops the bar he’s holding when you catch his eyes in the long line of mirrors. He turns away, swallowing hard, completely missing how your own gaze lingers.
Jihoon becomes so obsessed with not being caught looking at you again that he doesn’t even notice when you disappear off the gym floor completely. It’s only when he pulls his headphones off at the end of his session and glances around that he registers your absence: your third companion is long gone, and he assumes you must have snuck out without him noticing too. He settles the speakers back over his ears before pulling on an old zip-up, flicking the hood over his head to shelter him a little better once he gets outside. But he’s in no rush to get home so he takes his time, resting his bag between his abdomen and the lockers, replying to a few messages and clicking his tongue at some of the nonsense being spewed into the group-chat.
He isn’t sure exactly how long he’s standing there for, but he does know precisely what pulls him back to the world outside of the device in his hands.
To begin with, he doesn’t notice you approach, lost completely in his screen. He doesn’t hear your footsteps, or the way you politely clear your throat to announce your presence so he can move out of the way. He misses your moment of realisation that he’s listening to music and has no idea that you’re standing three feet behind him. He doesn’t even see you walk up next to him, your hair still damp from your shower and sitting loose over your shoulders.
It’s only when you try to reach over him to grab the last of your things that he snaps out of his trance. The fragrance of your body wash hits him first, and oh boy, does it hit him. Sweet, and delicate. Then, he gets something beautifully fruity: it’s not a perfume (it doesn’t smell like a perfume), but it’s you. Your shampoo, maybe? A conditioner? He can’t tell. Whatever it is, the combination of fragrances has him feeling like he’s been slammed into by a damn freight train. He drops his bag to the floor, freezing for a second, and then finally moves away just as the little door swings open.
“I’m so sorry,” he says hurriedly, tugging his hood down and pulling his headphones off completely. “I didn’t even think you were still here.” He can’t shake the smell of you, nor the feeling of your warm frame leaning so close to his own. God, why is his heart pounding like he’s just finished a round of sprints? Why can’t he breathe?
“No – hey, no, don’t be,” you rush, shaking your head. You finally succeed in pulling your coat free and start trying to get it on; Jihoon wonders if you often struggle to find your sleeves like this, if you’re always chasing them around like a puppy after its own tail. He does it too, sometimes. He gets it. It’s cute. “It’s okay. I was trying not to disturb-... I’m sorry.”
“You’re fine,” he tells you. For the first time, he’s able to smile back at you properly.
Why is it so hot in here, all of a sudden? Do they shut off the air conditioning after hours or something? He’s breaking out in a sweat.
“Call it even?” you suggest shyly, extending out a hand now you’ve managed to get both arms through your sleeves. He looks down at your fingers for a second before reaching to shake your hand once, a semi-firm grip securing the ‘deal’. (He feels a bit like he’s been electrocuted after, but he tries not to make that too obvious).
It goes awkwardly quiet for a moment then, and Jihoon wishes deeply that he had it in him to say something. Anything. But his brain has gone completely empty and apparently, all he knows how to do is stand completely still like a fucking statue. He shifts his gaze from you, to the wall behind you, to the carpet beneath his shoes, all the while tugging at the collar of his sweatshirt as if it might bring him a tiny breath of fresh air. The gentle sound of you clearing your throat has him looking back at your face again though; he assumes for a second that this is maybe you about to announce taking your leave. All the while, he’s cursing himself out in his own head for being totally inept, and he’s not entirely sure that it isn’t written all over his face.
“Alone, today?” you ask, idly fiddling with your zipper and succeeding in taking him by surprise. He really didn’t think you were going to continue this. And yet…
“Hm?” he questions.
You swallow before answering. “You… the last time, you were with a friend?” you explain, and now it’s your turn to look away. He wonders if you’re a little warm too, if he’s right in what he was thinking about the air-conditioning.
“Oh. Right.”
He nods. An annoying train of doubt in his mind wants to know why you’re asking about Seungcheol; if maybe it was him that you smiled at the other night, even though he knows your eyes weren’t looking up at the man he brought with him. He thinks maybe he should be used to these turns in conversation by now – you certainly wouldn’t be the first person to ask if one of his friends is available, after all – but somehow, he isn’t, and he has a slightly bitter taste in the back of his mouth as he goes on.
He really didn’t have ‘you being interested in one of his best friends’ on his bingo card for tonight, that’s for sure.
“Yeah. I think he’s with his partner, or… I don’t know. I don’t really bring other people, often. That was a one-off.”
You nod silently and Jihoon can’t quite get a read on what that means. He wonders if you’re upset at the revelation of Seungcheol’s partner, or maybe that he doesn’t tag along to every session. Or maybe, maybe, you were just being polite, and you don’t really care what his friend is up to that means he isn’t here. But whatever it is that you’re feeling, you do far too good a job at hiding it; he’s suddenly very overcome with the desire to run, again, except this time he might just bury his head in the sand too for good measure.
“How much were you deadlifting, just then?” you ask in the lull, just as he thinks he might have perfected the best way to say goodbye that doesn’t make him come across as even more of a tool than he probably already has. It throws him off kilter, but somehow, he manages to answer you in reasonable time.
“Oh, God… uh, one… 160?” He says uncertainly. “That’s not… I can do heavier-...” In his mind, he slaps his forehead. “Wait, no, that’s-... I mean, it’s true, but I didn’t mean-...”
You bite back your smile as he talks himself in a circle but Jihoon is too flustered to notice, convinced that he now sounds like every arrogant gym rat on the planet. God, he’s given himself the ick.
“I guessed you could,” you say.
Oh boy, this freezes him. Mid-thought, mid blink, mid-breath: he’s completely stuck. What does that mean? What does that mean? He only just manages to unstick his now suddenly dry tongue from the roof of his mouth, looking at you with surprised, confused eyes and parted lips. There aren’t any words on them, though. Like a deer in headlights, he just… stares.
“I mean, okay. Come on.” Your eyes visibly drop as you look him over, gaze lingering at his shoulders, his biceps, his waist. “You can get another twenty on that at least, right?”
He doesn’t know how to explain what’s happening to him, but if he thought he was burning up before? It was nothing compared to this, now. And there’s no way you haven’t noticed how everything from the base of his neck to the tips of his ears has suddenly started staining scarlet. He bows his head and pinches his lips tight, wrestling away the train of thought that appears as you drag your bottom lip between your teeth momentarily, still eyeing his arms. God, he’s never felt so overwhelmed in his life.
“Something like that, yeah,” he strains. He’s trying so hard to be nonchalant, even though he knows all of his personal bests by heart. Deadlift, 195kg. He hit it a few weeks ago: a couple of days before he first saw you.
“Mm. You can tell.”
Jihoon tries to shake off the compliment, but he fails. In equal measure he wishes you’d stop (he doesn’t know how much more blood can rush to his cheeks before he keels over) and never wants you to stop talking. It’s all going straight to his stomach, though, and he doesn’t remember having felt this specific brand of nervous and excited and stupidly shy since he was in high school.
He can hardly keep up. This is the danger zone.
Maybe it’s a bad idea that he says the next thing that comes into his head in a desperate attempt to change the conversation away from how much he can pull. But somehow, his voice doesn’t break when he asks, “are you parked far away?”
What? It’s dark outside, and this part of town isn’t exactly known for its upstanding citizens and pretty flowerbeds.
“Oh,” you say, eyes a little wide. “I’m-... just staying close-by. I walked here.” The space between his eyebrows must crease a little too quickly because you immediately hurry to speak again. “Really. It’s like… not even ten minutes. All main streets. It’s nothing.”
“Ten minutes longer than I’d walk around here at night on my own,” he says lightheartedly. In tone, at least. He’s actually completely serious.
You laugh at that; he lets out a chuckle, too. Now, Jihoon doesn’t believe in fairies but he thinks that if they were real, they’d giggle just like you do.
With a smile still on your face, you say, “what? A strong guy like you? Come on, now.”
Do you have to keep doing that? Fuck, he’s absolutely done for.
He tilts his head forwards, eyes closed, trying so hard to stop the muscles in his cheeks from lifting in a grin that it becomes a workout in and of itself.
“I mean it,” he says, taking what he hopes is a subtle breath to settle the fluttering in his chest. The next thing he knows, he’s leaning one shoulder against the lockers, a little reminiscent of every douchebag in every teen movie ever made. If he doesn’t think about it too much, he won’t cringe into oblivion until he gets home and replays this interaction over and over in his head instead of going to sleep. “Maybe I’ve just lived here too long. I might be jaded, but it’s still true.”
“How long is too long?” you ask.
“All my life,” he tells you.
“No way?”
“Mm.” A beat. “What about you?”
“I’m just staying with a friend, right now.”
“Oh, right.” He falls quiet again as he remembers the first time he saw you, remembers making the list in his head of all the possible reasons he hadn’t seen you before. The second was true, then.
Why does that feel like the worst possible scenario? He decides not to unpack that here.
“Maybe-...” you start, glancing down at your hands, which have been twisting in front of you for a few seconds now. Your chest inflates, filled with the words you’re about to speak, but only a breath comes out when you shake your head instead of saying them. “No, don’t worry. Scratch that.”
“Are you sure?” he asks, because he thinks that whatever you were about to suggest, there’s not much he would have said no to. He feels like it’s only fair to give you another chance to say it.
But you don’t.
“Yeah, it’s nothing.” You pause. “I… should probably get going.” He glances over your shoulder at the clock mounted on the far wall, squinting to see the time. 11:45.
“Shit. Yeah, me too,” Jihoon agrees. He didn’t realise it had gotten so late, so fast: he’s hardly ever out at this time. Lord, he already knows it’s going to be an open inquisition when he gets back to his apartment. His neighbours, Soonyoung and Seokmin, are about to have a fucking field day.
But it’s already long past the time he usually goes to bed, so he asks his next question anyway. He still can’t shake the thought of you walking back on your own at this hour. “Do-… you need a ride?”
He’s not sure if you actually consider it, or just wait a moment before you answer just to be polite. Either way, you end up shaking your head.
“It’s okay. I’ve-… got a call to make, so.” Your voice is a little quieter, lips tweaking up into a regretful half-smile, and Jihoon curses in his own head. How had he forgotten about that? “Thank you, though. Really.”
“Don’t mention it,” he says. “Just… get back safe.”
You smile and nod, taking a step towards the door and Jihoon does the same. He reaches the exit first and holds it open for you; when you’re both out in the street, he suppresses a shiver and looks in the direction of where he left his car earlier. Feeling the full force of the cold, it crosses his mind to ask again if you’re sure about walking home, but you’re already pulling a beanie down over your still damp hair and tapping something into your phone, so he doesn’t say anything.
“I’ll see you around, uh-…” you start to say, only looking back up when you falter, realising that this is the first time you’re about to use his name and it occurs to you both, at the same time, that you haven’t done this part, yet.
“Jihoon,” he introduces himself, lips quirking into a side-smile. His gaze is expectant and you respond to it perfectly.
“Y/n,” you introduce yourself.
“See you around, y/n.”
You split off in the opposite direction to where he’s heading. Before he clamps his headphones over his ears for the short walk up to his car, the last thing he hears is the retreating sound of a dial-tone.
—————
He doesn’t see you then for two whole weeks.
For the first couple of days, he only idly notices; it’s not a big deal — it’s not like you’re always there when he is, and he’s sure it’s the same vice versa. But he notices your absence, nonetheless. By the end of the first week, he casually wonders if you’ve had a change in schedule. Maybe you’re on a different working pattern, something that means you can’t be there on Monday and Thursday evenings and at 11:45am on Sundays.
It’s not weird. He only knows this because prior to that first conversation, acknowledging you as you crossed paths by the free-weights became part of his routine. It’s fine that he sort of misses those little interactions, isn’t it?
Maybe you’ve decided to start training ridiculously early in the morning instead? He tried that once. Never again. It then occurs to him, in the middle of a self-enforced rest day as he sits in the dark nursing a headache, that perhaps you’re not well. He sort of wishes he’d had the guts to ask for your number the last time he saw you, now: he thinks he’d check in, see if you were okay, ask how work was going or something.
Deep down he knows he’d probably actually just be staring at a blank text thread with a ‘casual’ message typed, tweaked a few hundred times, and ultimately unsent. But that’s fine. It’s the thought that counts.
The next time he sees you isn’t even in the gym, at all. It’s a Sunday afternoon — he finished his morning session, went home, showered, and headed back out into town after some lunch with a few errands to run. He finds himself spoiled with the luxury of a spare few hours to kill and dips into his favourite coffee place, thrilled beyond belief to find that it’s not obnoxiously busy and that there’s only one other person in the queue waiting to be served.
Oh, he thinks when he looks up from his phone and sees a vaguely familiar set of headphones sitting on top of a definitely familiar mane of hair, standing right in front of him. Oh, shit. It’s you.
Jihoon goes back and forth with himself over it but ultimately decides he probably doesn’t know you well enough to just say hello out in the wild like this, so even though the urge to do so strikes, he holds himself back. It’s agonising, though. He really wants to.
You step forward to order and he’s typing out a reply to a message in his, Seokmin and Soonyoung’s three-way group chat, in which he’s literally been fighting for his life as of late. He made the mistake of mentioning you in passing a few days ago and ever since, he’s had to vehemently deny that he has developed his first gym crush, insisting that actually, he’s just made a friend. They don’t believe him, because of course they don’t. That would be far too reasonable. Seokmin says that Jihoon wouldn’t be blushing just from saying your name if you were really ‘just a friend’. Soonyoung argues Jihoon wouldn’t have mentioned you at all.
“I’m so sorry — bear with me, just-…” your voice is quiet but Jihoon hears you apologising to the cashier in front of you, and it snaps him clean away from the tiff he’s having with the men who live in his building. He glances up and you’re elbow-deep in the bag over your shoulder, red in the face with your bottom lip pulled between your teeth. He turns his head slightly and sees the small hand-written sign that says the card machine isn’t working, and they’re cash only, today.
He can hazard a guess at your predicament.
After another few seconds of you trying to find whatever it is you’re looking for in your bag, he starts feeling bad for you. This, right here, is his own worst nightmare. Should the roles be reversed, he thinks he would’ve just turned around and walked out. It’s exactly why he doesn’t bother with backpacks and satchels day-to-day: if it doesn’t fit in his pockets, he doesn’t take it out with him. The system isn’t perfect but it has saved Jihoon a decent amount of public distress.
But the roles aren’t reversed, and he has his wallet already in his hand, so… he only gives himself a few seconds to wonder if it’s appropriate before he does the stupid thing anyway.
“Don’t worry — I’ve got it,” he says, stepping around you, pulling out the cash to pay for your order. You’re dumbstruck when you look at him, head tilted to the side. The person stood behind the counter glances at you, then at him, and back at you; you don’t see this, however, because your eyes haven’t left Jihoon’s face since he appeared — as far as you’re concerned — out of thin air.
“I can’t ask you to…” you start to protest, but your hands have stopped fishing around and he’s moving the cash further towards the barista, who hesitates just a second longer.
“You’re not asking. I’m offering. I’ve got you.” He says this with such finality that you quite literally can’t argue with him. The lady behind the counter accepts the cash and you nod, shyly, mouthing a thank you. He orders his own drink — an Americano, nothing exciting — and you both go to stand at the other end of the counter while you wait.
“Hi,” you finally say, and Jihoon can’t help but give a small chuckle.
He doesn’t have anything hugely witty or creative in his arsenal, though, so he comes back with a matching, “hey.”
“How… have you been?” you ask.
“Can’t complain, really,” he says. “Are you okay? I haven’t seen you around for a few weeks.” Oh, God — the second the words are out of his mouth, he wishes he could take them back. Why did he have to add that last part? Why didn’t he just leave it at the question?
“Yeah — about that,” you breathe, ducking your head to conceal the heat that’s spreading over your cheeks. “You know how I said I was staying with that friend?” He nods, and you continue. “I was waiting for some stuff to get sorted out with an apartment and it all finally got resolved, so… I’ve been moving my stuff over to a new place.”
Jihoon feels his heart sink for a moment, but he keeps his expression pleasant and engaged. His fingers threaten to give him away as they fiddle with the aglet on the drawstring of his sweatpants.
“Sounds tiring,” he says lightly, and you laugh again, nodding. It’s odd, having his heart taking residence low in his stomach and somehow also in his throat, all while hammering away at a mile a minute. All the caffeine in the world couldn’t have this effect on him. “Is it going okay so far?”
“Yeah.” You nod. “It’s a process, but… it’ll be worth it.”
The barista behind the counter announces herself by clearing her throat and slides your drinks across the marble surface with a little glimmer in her eye. Jihoon picks them both up, extending yours out to you. There’s a pause (in which he swallows a large helping of self-doubt) as he glances to the door, working through several combinations of his next words in his mind before he looks back at you.
“Do you… maybe have ten minutes to sit with these?” He asks. You light up immediately, not even checking the time on any of your devices, nor the wall clock behind your head. He doesn’t let himself think about why it makes him giddy that you’re accepting the offer, just like that.
“Yeah — yeah, sure.” You smile, walking through the lines of tables and sliding into one of the big, comfy chairs by the window. He unzips his jacket and slings it over the arm of the other chair before settling in himself, his long fingers wrapping around the to-go cup. The drink warms his perpetually cold palms and he sighs sweetly.
“You must be excited to get into the new place, then?” he asks after taking a sip, letting it heat him up from the inside. It could be argued that this job is already being taken care of, but Jihoon is not about to go there.
“Oh, God yes.” You nod, relaxing back in the seat with your own cup. Jihoon subconsciously leans a little forward in tandem. “It’s been fun staying with my friend, but…” You pause, lips slightly parted, before going on. “Okay, a warning: I’m a terrible person for this, I know. She’s done me a huge favour, letting me stay there — but I can’t deal with how untidy she is. It’s driving me nuts.”
A chuckle bubbles in Jihoon’s chest, cheeks starting to ache as his smile grows and grows. It hasn’t fallen since he sat down opposite you, and doesn’t seem to be going anywhere, any time soon. “That bad?” he asks.
“You have no idea,” you groan, covering your face with one hand. He wishes you hadn’t — he thinks you look quite lovely when you’re all lit up like this. “She doesn’t clean her dishes after she eats — she piles them up in the sink for like, three days. I don’t think she’s used the vacuum the entire time I’ve been there. I keep finding wrappers and packets and mismatched socks everywhere —”
His snort of laughter rolls off the back of his throat rather ungraciously and he settles back into his chair. You gently bump his ankle under the table with your foot, beaming at him. “I’m serious! I can’t live like this, Jihoon. I can’t!”
The more you speak, the less he can control the fits he’s descended into, and his abs start to ache after a while; there’s desperation in your voice but it’s just wrapped up so cutely in your lighthearted frustration and decoratively tied together with your sunshine smile… he can’t help it — he’s in pieces. It’s okay though, because you’re laughing too: it makes him think of fairies again, and he can picture you with dainty, intricately patterned wings under the soft lighting in the café. He wipes the corner of his eye with the heel of his hand as he starts to calm down, taking a few deep breaths all the way into his stomach.
“You’re so much stronger than I am,” he says.. “I couldn’t deal with that.”
“You know, I had a feeling you’d be a clean person, too,” you say, sipping at your coffee again. “I mean… I’ve never seen you use the gym showers, so I wasn’t sure, but…”
“Hey,” he says, mock-defensively. “I don’t trust the locks, okay? I shower at home!”
Your cup is lifted to your mouth and he can only see you from the nose upwards, but by the creases at the corners of your eyes, he knows you’re concealing a smile behind it as you nod back at him.
Ten minutes turns to twenty and then somehow becomes thirty — Jihoon starts feeling like you’re someone he’s known for years, and not just the person he accidentally ended up paying attention to in the gym just a couple of weeks ago. He bounces off you and you bounce off him. Both of you have long-since finished your drinks, too: there’s no real reason for either of you to still be here.
Except the obvious.
“So, the apartment,” Jihoon says, leaning forwards again with his elbows resting on his knees. “Is it…?” He makes a few circular gestures with his hands with which he tries to imply something to the effect of ‘local’, or ‘nearby’, but he can’t quite bring himself to say that out loud. You seem to catch on though. Somehow.
Then again, you did say — a few subject changes ago — that Jihoon is on your wavelength. Maybe that’s it.
“About… a fifteen minute walk from here? Give or take,” you say, and his eyebrows shoot up his forehead so fast it’s like they’re on strings, being controlled by someone else. He doesn’t realise for a few seconds, by which point he isn’t even sure how to relax them.
“No way?” he says, trying to feign nothing more than an idle interest. Obviously, he’s soaring.
“Yeah. I’ll want to get back training soon, too, so there’s some incentive to get this done quickly. I miss it,” you tell him.
Jihoon comes out with what he says next without thinking. His mouth is moving before fully engaging his brain. It’s the coffee jitters. Apparently.
“Well, if you need any help with anything, I’ve got a car.”
“You’re too sweet,” you say. “I really couldn’t put you out like that, but…”
“You wouldn’t be,” he assures you with a shrug. “If I’m not working or in the gym… I’m never really that busy. It’s up to you, but-… I’d be happy to.”
You bite the inside of your lip for a moment, apparently mulling this over, before wiggling in your seat to pull your phone out of the front pocket of your jeans. You unlock the device and hand it over on a ‘new contact’ screen.
Jihoon goes completely stupid: he thinks his brain stops functioning as he takes it to put his number in — for a moment, he’s staring dumbstruck, struggling to even remember the order of the digits now he’s under pressure, but it comes back to him eventually. His thumbs dart across the screen and he checks, double checks and triple checks that he’s typed it right before placing it back in your waiting palm.
His fingertips brush against yours and it tickles, sending small shockwaves up his arms and straight into his chest. You smile down at your phone before glancing up at him.
“You need an emoji,” you tell him, and he raises an eyebrow at you.
“Huh?”
“Everyone in my contacts has one — I’ve been doing this since I was in high-school. You need to pick one, too.”
“Oh, uh-…” Jihoon swallows, and for some reason he’s completely forgotten every single little emoticon option there is. He draws a blank. “I can’t — you pick one for me. I don’t know.”
You narrow your eyes at him for a second, pouting your lips as you seem to scroll through the endless options. Now and again, you look up at him, as if trying to see what best fits him before you continue your search. He waits. And waits. And waits. He’s about to throw in an admittedly useless suggestion of some sort of boring animal when you turn your phone around to show him what you’ve chosen.
Jihoon, the contact name reads. And there’s the little angel face next to it.
“Oh, come on,” he says, blushing deeply. “You can’t be serious.”
“I totally am,” you say proudly, turning it back and pressing to save it. He hides his face in his hands. “If you won’t pick your own, you get what you’re given. You did this to yourself.”
“Wow,” he chuckles weakly, sliding his hands up into his hair and raking it back off his face. Your eyes move quickly across every inch and boy, does he notice. You shrug in response and test it, sending the same little emoticon to him. He blushes harder when it comes through and he saves your number into his own phone before placing it face-down on the table.
More than an hour after buying your coffee, Jihoon stretches his arms above his head and checks the time on his watch. He frowns slightly, not sure how the afternoon got away from him so fast, and lets out a sigh.
“I think I need to get going,” he says reluctantly. Leaving you is absolutely the opposite of what he wants to do, actually. Alas, “I have some friends coming over tonight.”
“Yeah — yeah, of course,” you smile, leaning to one side to pick your bag up off the floor. “No worries.”
You both move to stand up and he throws his coat over his arm, leading the way out. He holds open the door for you to leave first, then follows you outside into the afternoon sun.
“It was really nice to see you,” you say, turning to face him.
“You too,” he agrees. “Text me if you need anything, okay? But actually do. Don’t just say you will?”
You laugh sweetly. Fairies. His ears might have actually caught fire this time. “Okay, okay. I promise. I’ll text you — thank you.” There’s a pause, but only a tiny one. “And for the coffee, too.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he insists, waving it off. You shake your head. He thinks your hands are twitching when you stuff them into your pockets but he can’t be sure. Your breath definitely stutters, though.
“No, really. Um… next one’s on me?”
He blinks, and blinks again. Next one? The next one? He feels like he’s malfunctioned and been forcibly rebooted. The next one?
“I-…” he starts, his throat dry. “Yeah, okay. If you’re sure.”
“I’m sure.” You nod, smiling with — what he doesn’t realise is — relief. “I’ll see you around, okay?”
“Yeah. Yeah — I’ll see you, y/n.”
—————
Jihoon has no choice but to admit defeat to the group chat that night when Seungcheol and Jeonghan come over for a takeout.
Within minutes, his oldest friend is asking about the girl from the gym — he’s been just as relentless as Seokmin and Soonyoung in quizzing Jihoon, except it’s slightly harder to deny to Seungcheol because he did witness, first-hand, the way you had his friend tripping over his own feet with a single smile. At first, Jihoon tries to shrug it off. Play it down. Change the subject. He doesn’t mention that he’s actually spoken to you since he and Cheol trained together, or that he accidentally bumped into you and paid for your coffee, or that you stayed talking with him for as long as you did. He definitely doesn’t say that you exchanged phone numbers.
He absolutely won’t confess to being smitten.
All Jihoon willingly admits to is that from what he’s seen of you around, you seem nice, and with a roll of his eyes he does agree that he thinks you’re attractive. He gets a bit of a glare later in the evening when Jeonghan asks if he’s thought about where he wants to take you on your first date, and Jihoon tells him to stop asking stupid questions and eat his chicken before he eats it for him. But all in all he thinks he evades the worst of it pretty well. For now, anyway — he knows their pestering isn’t going away any time soon.
Especially not when, on their way out, Seungcheol leans close and whispers that whatever is going on with his gym crush, it suits him. Jihoon jabs him on the arm and the two men leave, laughing brightly.
It’s about an hour after his friends have gone home, having washed the dishes and cleaned up his apartment that Jihoon is sitting on his living room floor doing a few lower body stretches before he turns in for the night. He finds himself tapping into your text thread — not for the first time this evening — and skimming over the short conversation you had earlier. You messaged him when you got back to your friend’s place to thank him for the third time, and Jihoon replied back telling you that if you didn’t stop being silly, he was never going to respond to you again. Your reply came in the form of a “:(“ and his was a simple “:)”. That was it, but he’s been thinking about the exchange ever since.
He’s not sure why. Nor is he certain what about that has him looking down at the messages and grinning like a fool in his apartment, alone, at 10:30pm on a Sunday night. He could probably take a stab in the dark at what it means, though. He rubs at the back of his neck with one hand as he changes conversations and types out a short message with the other.
jihoon: fine. you’re right.
seokmin: ?
soonyoung: probs true, does need context
jihoon: about the gym girl. you’re right.
soonyoung: OH
seokmin: Hahahahahaha
seokmin: Yeah, you’re definitely the last to know, dude
soonyoung: fr even chan and hansol know atp lmao
jihoon: they what?
jihoon: how do they know?
jihoon: they don’t go to my gym! i haven’t seen them in weeks!
soonyoung: because we told them?????
seokmin: So, we might have told everyone
jihoon: blocking both of your numbers immediately.
seokmin: Hey! We’re just glad you’ve accepted it
seokmin: When do we get to meet her?
jihoon: blocked.
Well, great, Jihoon thinks as he fights the urge to lay face down on the floor and let the laminate cool his searingly hot cheeks.
At least he’s admitted it now.
He’s vaguely confirmed in writing that maybe he has a bit of a thing for you — it’s out in the open and at minimum, two of his friends know that it’s real. Straight from the horse’s mouth. Fingers. Whatever. No doubt by morning, all of his friends will have found out. The point stands that he hasn’t confessed to something like this since he was approximately sixteen years old, so whatever you’re doing to him, whatever this… is, it matters.
So, he asks himself, standing up off the hardwood floor and stretching his spine, arms locked behind him and pushed back as far as they can go. He turns off all the lights, checks the front door, goes through the motions to get himself ready for bed. So… what the fuck am I supposed to do now?
—————
Come Monday evening, he’s about ready to hit the roof.
As far as bad days go, Jihoon thinks he’s in the running for one of the worst ever. He slept awfully, tossing and turning through the night despite the usual winning combination of freshly washed bed sheets and his white noise machine drowning out the occasional disturbance from the street below. He wakes up two minutes before his alarm is due to go off, only to discover he fell asleep before plugging his phone in to charge overnight, and it’s sitting at a very risky 13%. The gel he uses to keep his hair off his face at work has gone weird and only does half a job, strands tumbling back in front of his eyes the second he goes to leave his apartment, very nearly forgetting his keys. Then, to really put the cherry on top, he sees that — at some point between getting home yesterday and now — someone has scraped his car while parking up next to him. There’s a large scratch right down the passenger side, with no note nor reliable CCTV in his apartment’s parking lot to confirm who it was, and of course, the space is currently empty.
All this before he even gets to work.
He fundamentally knows that starting the week off with a bad attitude will only lead to a really shitty remainder, but when Vernon sends his routine ‘Monday Motivation’ booster message — “you’re going to have a great day, today!” — into the group chat, Jihoon responds with a crude photo of his middle finger, right in front of the massive scuff on the bodywork of his Hyundai. Jeonghan replies with an ‘oof’, Wonwoo with a ‘yikes’, and Joshua, ever the comedian, sends a picture of Garfield lying face-down captioned ‘Mondays’ that nobody replies to. All responses feel kind of appropriate. But he pockets his phone without sending anything else, sighing again; he locks the car and checks the handle just in case before he finally heads into the building.
It’s going to be a long day. He just has to get through it.
Things don’t necessarily improve. He ends up in and out of meetings all day, so when 5 o’clock rolls around and he’s on his way out the door, he’s feeling a bit like he’s done nothing of actual value. Just, for some reason, thinking about you and tapping out a catchy beat on the top of his desk as he pretends to pay attention to useless presentation after useless presentation. But it’s still somehow been exhausting on his brain and on the drive back to his apartment, Jihoon feels so drained that he contemplates skipping the gym altogether and going straight to bed. This internal argument takes up most of his journey, but it does keep him occupied during the rush-hour traffic if it does nothing else.
Nothing has ever been fixed by ruining a perfectly good routine, however — so no sooner than he’s back in his apartment, he changes out of his button-down and trousers and into his regular gym gear. His protein shaker is ready on the counter for when he’s home again, the lights are off, his bag is on his shoulder and the door is locked. He pushes against it a few times, checking out of habit, despite the fact that his only neighbours on this floor are Soonyoung, Seokmin and an elderly couple with a cat they’re not technically supposed to have. Nobody tells, though, because Boots has become everyone’s emotional support animal. The only actual security threat is Seokmin maybe stealing something from his fridge, but he’s only ever satisfied after the third test anyway.
A quick warmup and a few easy stretches later, Jihoon sets about his business. Mondays are for training legs (and often, as a result, incapacitating himself for the rest of the week), and these workouts are always some of his most intense.
So intense, in fact, that he’s sweating buckets and cherry red when he steps away from the squat rack, tugging up the hem of his t-shirt to dry his face, a brief flash of his toned abdomen on full view. He’s just about catching his breath when he glances in the mirror, and his knees nearly give out when he sees you walking in. You lock eyes and smile at him in the reflection as you start to walk towards him.
It’s not just any smile, but he’s way too flustered to notice.
He spins around to face you, mortally embarrassed that you definitely just saw that, but in a weird way… kind of elated? You drop your headphones to sit around the back of your neck to greet him as you get closer. He pushes his hair back off his forehead and tries to act as cool as he can, but Jihoon suddenly becomes incredibly aware of everything about himself in this moment: his posture, how his arms hang by his sides, the exact positioning of his feet. The fact that he’s breathing pretty deeply, that his pulse is so loud in his ears that he can see your lips moving but can’t quite hear what you’re saying.
Shit. Shit, shit, shit — you’re talking. Focus. He needs to focus.
“Sorry — what was that?” he asks, eliciting a soft laugh from you.
“I like your shirt,” you repeat, a fraction clearer. Jihoon glances down at himself, at the same sweatpants and tight black workout top he wears in here several times a week, and looks back at you with a raised eyebrow. God, he lets himself think for half a second, entertaining his own stupidity with the idea that you’re finding this as hard as he is, too. Maybe I’m not alone in this.
“Oh?” he says. “Um — thank you?”
“How’d it go with your friends last night?” you ask, hardly skipping a beat, and he’s a little thankful that you skim over his poor attempt at gratitude for a compliment he isn’t sure he deserves. Instead, his confusion wraps itself around the fact that you actually remembered what he was doing last night. Hell, even he’d forgotten in the heat of the day he’d had, but you remembered. He’s sweating over it a little and briefly wonders what the chances are of the gym floor opening up and swallowing him whole.
Slim, he decides. But not zero.
There’s hope.
“Yeah — yeah, it was nice,” he says, internally kicking himself for overthinking this so much that he’s apparently lost his ability to speak. In the space of 24 hours, he’s gone from giggling over coffee with you to completely weak just at the sound of your voice. It should be easier here, if anything — this is home turf for him. His comfort space. He supposes the tight fit of your gym clothes accentuating your hips and thighs isn’t helping matters, and neither is the wide neckline of your own t-shirt exposing your throat and a collarbone. But still. He’s not a teenager. He should be able to handle a little bit of skin.
He clears his throat, rolling his head side-to-side. Focus. “Sorry — I’m-… I just didn’t expect to see you back here so soon.”
“Yeah,” you chuckle. “I-… couldn’t stay away. Missed it a little too much.”
“I get that,” he concurs, willing his eyes not to drop down your frame to a newly exposed area of skin just around your waist, your t-shirt riding up as you adjust your bag on your shoulder. “It’s good to-… have you back, anyway.”
“Good to be back,” you agree. “Hey — can you leave that set up for me, when you’re done? I’m on legs today, too.”
Jihoon doesn’t want to say that he knows Mondays are your leg days, as well, so he doesn’t. Even if it is true. He wonders if you would find it odd that he’s remembered. “Sure,” he says with a small smile, which you return. Just as you’re about to walk off to drop your things into a locker, he pipes up again. “I mean — hey, if you wanted a spot, or to-… do, you know… anything…”
“Are you asking me to train with you?” you ask, eyes bright and smile wider than he thinks he’s ever seen it. This is torture. He’s not even lifting anything and his heart is about to burst out of his fucking chest — God, maybe this was a bad suggestion.
“I-…” he starts, but he lets the breath out of his lungs and shrugs his shoulders. “Yeah. I am.”
“Give me two minutes,” you agree, hurrying off to put your stuff away and fill up your bottle.
He manages to squeeze another set of squats in before you get back, which is sort of a miracle seeing as how his knees have gone completely weak ever since you arrived. He’s scrolling through his playlist as you cross the gym floor on your way back to him, but he looks up and smiles as you approach.
“You go ahead — I’ve just finished.”
He knows he’s really fucking done for when, after the first round, you add plates onto the bar to out-lift him. All before he’s even positioned himself behind you to be a good spotter.
Jihoon doesn’t go down without a fight though, and things get a little competitive from there. Both of you throw some of your favourite (see: most agonising) exercises into the mix over the course of the hour, taking it in turns on the equipment and creating a session that just about has him able to move by the time you’re finished. You talk to each other when you’ve got the breath to do so, otherwise focussing on your workout with more intensity than either of you remember training with for a long time.
And so what if he has to turn away from you once or twice to compose himself when breathless whines spill from between your lips on your last few reps, the sheer effort of the movements pushing your muscles to their absolute limit? So what if he feels his entire body run a thousand degrees every time you sweetly encourage him to manage just one more? So what if his palm stays tingling for fifteen seconds every time you high-five him for a set well done?
You slide out of the hamstring curl machine with a deep breath and legs like two sticks of jelly at the end of the session, and he holds a hand out to steady you as you regain your ability to weight-bear.
“You okay?” he asks, and you nod, patting what’s exposed of your chest and neck with your towel.
“Yeah. Yeah — just… fuck.” You laugh, laying your hand over the top of his and squeezing. Only for a second — not even, only for a breath — and really just to let him know that you’re okay to stand on your own, but Jihoon feels a bit like he’s been electrocuted straight up his arm all the same. “You don’t come to play, do you?”
“Says you,” he scoffs, only now moving his hand from your upper arm. “I was wrong about you — you’re insane. Clinically insane.”
Using the paper towels he went to gather while you were finishing up, he wipes the machine clean as you stretch out your now slightly exercise-swollen thighs.
“I was just gonna finish up on one of the stairmasters,” you tell him, taking a long sip of your water. His eyes widen to the point of comedy, eyebrows high on his forehead. You snicker at his horror, the rim of your bottle hovering tantalisingly over your bottom lip. “What?”
“That’s-… got to be a form of masochism,” he says, exhausted just at the idea of marching up the never ending staircase even for a minute. You almost choke on your mouthful of water, only just swallowing it in time before a sudden, uncontrollable laugh erupts from your chest.
“How?!” you ask, covering your mouth with your hand. Just like yesterday, the urge to pull your arm away, to reveal your hidden smile strikes him. He doesn’t act on it, but he wants to.
“What do you mean, how? Why would you put yourself through that after what you’ve just done?” It’s completely lighthearted, and the rush of heat on your cheeks intensifies at the cocktail of shock and awe in his gaze.
You shrug your shoulders once. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just better than you.” The way the tip of your tongue teasingly sits between your teeth as you grin at him sends bullets of adrenaline through his veins and Jihoon runs his hand over his face.
For about three seconds, he tells himself he isn’t going to take the bait. He’ll lose, he’ll admit it — he’ll put his hands up and say you’re absolutely, definitely better than he is, if it means he doesn’t have to push through a round of cardio after surpassing every single one of his physical limits. But God, he thinks you look completely irresistible standing there challenging him like this, your hands on your hips. His eyes don’t leave yours and yours don’t leave his; both of your chests stutter, just a little bit, and he can see your smile grow in his periphery.
How the fuck is he supposed to walk away?
“Ten minutes,” he concedes, matching your footsteps as you start to walk backwards towards his least favourite line of equipment in any gym, ever. “And you’re definitely getting the next coffee, now.”
——————
That Friday, you finally text him again.
His muscles have just about returned to a working state and Jihoon is quite proud to say that he has regained the ability to sit down without needing something to hold onto. He got home from work, showered the day away and has just settled down into the sofa to start on the book Wonwoo has been on his ass about reading when his phone vibrates on the side table. He reaches over for it, trying to figure out which of his friends might be trying to get hold of him early evening on a Friday, and already going over excuses in his head as to why he can’t go out to do whatever they’re inviting him to. But when your contact name flashes up on the screen, every single thought disappears from his brain.
y/n: hey :)
y/n: just out of interest, how good are you at assembling furniture?
He furrows his brows at this. There’s a very obvious answer, which is that he’s not. He doesn’t want to reply saying so, though, so he goes for what he thinks is the next best thing.
jh: well…
jh: what are you trying to put together?
y/n: a bed :(
y/n: today’s your rest day, right?
y/n: can i bribe you with dinner after? :)
Oh? His brain stalls, fingers hovering over the keypad. He can literally see your face forming a little pout before growing into a hopeful grin in his mind’s eye. He doesn’t see how he could ever say no.
jh: apparently yes, you can.
jh: text me the address? i’ll leave in 5.
He changes out of his basketball shorts and hoodie in record time, abandoning Wonwoo’s book on his couch in favour of attempting to look at least somewhat presentable for you. He tugs on a pair of jeans that he hasn’t touched in about 6 months and one of his nicer t-shirts instead, even going as far as to spritz aftershave on the column of his throat. You’ve sent him your address and he makes to leave, doing his regular essential item pat-down on his way out the door. He puts your new apartment into his phone as he crosses the parking lot, stupidly delighted to discover it’s only 7 and a half minutes away from where he lives, and settles into his car with a series of deep exhales.
The breathing exercises don’t achieve much. His head is still spinning when he parks up in the street by your new place and lingers just outside the building. He sends you a text to say he’s arrived and you reply saying you’re on your way down. You appear in the lobby just a few minutes later.
“Hey,” you greet him warmly, crossing the space and putting your arms around him in a hug. He goes limp for a fraction of a second before his arms slide around you, too. God, he hopes you can’t feel his heartbeat right now. He thinks that the effect you have on him should be considered dangerous. But whether you can or not, you tighten your arms to squeeze him once before you unwind them from around his neck and step away.
“Hi,” he says, feverish from the tops of his ears all the way down to his toes. His hands find his pockets as you take a few more polite steps back.
“Thank you so much for this.” Your bottom lip finds temporary home between your teeth before you’re nodding back towards the stairwell. “I’m on the third floor. Follow me.”
He does. He walks up the stairs behind you as you ask about his day at work, and he tells you that he thinks today has probably been one of the best he’s had in about 2 months. When he asks how your day went, you turn your head back to look at him and stumble on the next step, gently laughing and saying that you think you’re at your tether’s end with D.I.Y, but it’s been pretty good otherwise. By the time you reach your floor, his thighs are aching, a bit of residual fatigue from your session earlier in the week making it a little harder than it ought to be. He can’t imagine how you’ve coped every day since then; if his own building didn’t have an elevator, Jihoon thinks he’d have been sleeping in his car.
You give him a little tour of the apartment, and he stands next to you at the window as you point out where you were staying with your friend a few blocks away. He thinks the view is seriously pretty in the evening light, enchanted by how he can see the tops of the slightly lower buildings and the street below, lined with neon storefronts and currently alive with shoppers and bar-goers, but… He cringes at himself for thinking it, but the view through the glass is nothing compared to the one he has inside.
You’ve started to put up a few decorations and knick-knacks around the place too. He doesn’t know you very well, but he still thinks it’s very you — all of it, and he likes them. Even with the room full of boxes and half-unpacked cases, there’s so much personality in it already. Charm. He brushes off your attempts to apologise for the ‘mess’, as you called it, despite everything being neatly pushed out of the way of the main space. It’s easily tidier than any other mid-move apartment he’s ever been in.
“Did you want a drink?” you ask him, walking over to the refrigerator and resting a hand on the door. “I’ve got wine, or-… anything, really.”
“Just some water would be great,” he says appreciatively, and a few seconds later you’re handing him a bottle, turning another one over in your hand. “I really wouldn’t be much help after a couple of glasses, trust me.”
“Does this mean you are good at it, then? Before a drink?” you ask him. Is it hope in your voice? Or do you somehow know how hopeless he is, and are you teasing? He can’t tell. Regardless, clearly his evasion earlier wasn’t quite as successful as he hoped it would be.
“About that…” He chuckles, taking a sip from the bottle and glancing sideways at you. “I’m sure between the two of us, we’ll figure it out.”
“My knight in shining armour,” you say with a laugh, closing your fingers around his wrist and leading him through the door to your bedroom. You’ve managed to separate all of the individual pieces, but you haven’t made any real progress otherwise. He settles himself down on the floor and reaches for the assembly manual, pursing his lips as he looks at the little baggies of screws and bolts and various other things he doesn’t know the names of.
“Okay.” He frowns, looking back up at you where you’ve kneeled down a couple of feet away. You’re grinning innocently back at him, but Jihoon’s lips are more aligned with a pout. “You maybe should have mentioned that the instructions are in Swedish.”
——-
Ignoring the fact that you can’t understand the directions printed on the flimsy little pieces of paper, you get to work. It’s… an interesting process, but somehow between the pair of you, you successfully manage to assemble the bed in just under two hours by mostly following the diagrams (and having to backtrack several times because Jihoon managed to miss a few steps). At three minutes to nine, you’re both finally standing up off the floor, stretching out stiff joints and tight muscles; the bed is fully assembled and made up with your sheets in the centre of the room, headboard against the back wall, the lamp you set on the dresser casting a pleasant orangey glow on every surface.
“We did it,” you say, a little in shock, a lot exhausted, and absolutely starving. At least, that’s what he assumes you’re feeling, because it’s what he is. “We actually did it.”
“I mean, you did most of it,” Jihoon says. It’s true; at a point, he was just handing you the pieces you asked him for and holding parts steady so that you could fit them together. But if you want to call it a joint effort, he isn’t going to stop you, and the roll of your eyes tells him that you do want to call it that.
“Shh. You helped,” you scold him, bumping his upper arm with your elbow. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”
“If you say so,” he chuckles, taking another sip of his water. Jihoon isn’t sure he believes you, but the way you’re challenging him to argue further with your tongue pressed against the inside of your cheek scrambles his brain. Any remaining argument dies on his lips. “We make a good team.”
“We do,” you agree, expression shifting into a shy smile, bumping his arm again, your elbow lingering against him for a second longer. “Come on, I think I promised to feed you, too. What are you in the mood for?”
A movie has been playing in the background for about an hour by the time your food arrives and you’ve eaten everything. Jihoon relaxes back against the cushions of the couch and you’re settled comfortably next to him: there’s plenty of space on either side of you both, so there isn’t really any need for you to have your upper arm basically pressing against his, but Jihoon is too comfortable to say anything and you certainly aren’t making any attempts to move away. You shift your legs after about ninety minutes, bringing them up underneath you so your thigh is pressed against his now, as well, and you’re twisted slightly so you’re physically facing him but your head is still turned towards the TV.
Everywhere your clothed body touches him is scorching, and he wonders if maybe he should’ve worn a thinner t-shirt, or at the very least something a little less heavy on his legs. His jeans, slightly tighter around the thighs than perhaps would be their peak level of comfort, are clinging to him everywhere and he’s so aware of himself, so aware of you, of your sweet body wash, your fruity shampoo, every single one of your breaths… He’s cursed people out for breathing too loudly around him before, but he thinks he could replace his white noise machine with an eight hour track of just this and he would sleep like a fucking baby.
One of your elbows is propped against the top of the cushions behind you and you’re resting your head in your palm, and (not for the first time this evening) he glances sideways to look at you. They’ve been fleeting glances thus far, only stealing fractions of a moment before he turns his attention back to the TV. But this? This is the wrong moment. Entirely the wrong fucking moment because as his head turns, so does yours, and you catch him in the act. Fuck, if he thought he was burning up, before? He’s pretty sure he’s somehow just descended straight to the second circle of hell, greeting all the other lusty sinners like old friends. Several of his thoughts tonight have been considerably impure, and in this half second of blistering eye contact, they all come rushing back.
The universe is really testing him this evening, and Jihoon is stumbling. It feels like any minute now, he’s going to explode.
He straightens his spine and looks back at the TV, trying to force his eyes to focus even though he’s completely swallowed by the feeling of your arm straightening across the back of the couch, your fingertips grazing over the skin at the bottom of his hairline. He can feel your eyes still on him, your gaze burning into his cheek, no doubt following as his tongue darts out subconsciously over his lips. But he can’t quite help himself, can’t get the image of how sweet you looked out of his head; he clears his throat quietly and looks over at you again, coming over almost completely blank the second he notices the glimmer your eyes hold when they’re trained on him.
Any. Fucking. Minute.
“Jihoon, I-…” you start to say, and he turns himself a little bit so that he’s facing you better, completely forgetting about the movie now. That’s not a great loss: he couldn’t explain the plot even if he tried. “I don’t know if-… you can tell me if I’ve read you wrong…”
“You haven’t,” he hurries. Relief starts to ease the tension between your brows, before you scrunch them again and cock your head to the side. “I’m sure you haven’t, I mean.”
In this new position, one of his legs is bent and sitting up on the couch beneath him and you’ve adjusted your own posture to accommodate. Your knee sits just over the top of his, more of your impossible body heat radiating through his clothes, and he glances down at the site of contact before he looks back at you.
“I just-... I don’t know, I think I knew I was interested in you from the first time I saw you, but the last few weeks especially…” You’ve been rehearsing this. He can feel it. It’s written in your eyes, holding the weight of the words you’re struggling to say, and behind them he can see cogs turning as you try to get the words in the right order. (He knows how that goes, because he’s been trying to figure out how to tell you, too.) He nods, urging you to keep going.
“I can’t get you out of my head. I really like you.”
He short-circuits, then. Even though part of him knew what you were going to say, hearing it out loud flips a switch inside him and he stops functioning. Blinking at you slowly, lips parted, heart racing – he feels as if his brain has been sucked clean out of his ears and is floating somewhere way above his head. Way outside of a contactable range, way beyond any level of rational decision-making. Jihoon knows what he wants to say, of course – he knows that he wants to say that he likes you, and that he has for a while, and that maybe you should let him take you out on a date or something, but all of that sits just behind the barrier of his teeth, so…
He leans forward and kisses you, instead.
He almost can’t believe that he’s only wanted this for as short of a time as he has; it feels like it’s been building inside him for so much longer. Relief floods through his veins, the emotional dam finally breaching. It only lasts a few seconds, but with his lips pressed to yours and yours pressing back, the static in his brain goes quiet, the movie falls silent: everything stops, except you. He thinks you could’ve been carved from stone around each other — he thinks something just feels so inexplicably right. Your hand tightens in his hair and he gasps softly as he pulls an inch back, eyes heavily lidded and looking straight at you through his lashes. You move forward, leaning your forehead against his, and the feather-light hold he has on your chin slides up to your cheek instead.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know how to-…” he says after a long, long moment of remembering how to breathe, how to blink, how to exist in your space without combusting on the spot. He still isn’t sure he knows how to do any of those things, especially not now he can see every single line of your face this close. He’s trying, though. “But — shit, I’m crazy about you.”
You kiss him, then, harder than before, colliding in a mess of half-finished breaths and bumped, stinging noses. His other hand comes up to sit against your rib cage, yours pressing into the material of his t-shirt over his chest. He smiles and parts his lips as yours move against them, your tongue gently sweeping into his mouth, finding his own; a soft, low moan tickles the back of his throat, his fingertips curling slightly to tighten his hold.
Jihoon isn’t sure how you end up on your knees, straddled astride his legs with one of his hands tucked between your thigh and calf, the other on the curve of your ass — he just knows that he doesn’t mind one bit. You’re warm and comfortable, the arch of your back pressing you into him deliciously. He’s kissing you like his life depends on it (he really fears that it might), and you’re doing the same back, licking against his tongue and rocking slightly with every separation and reconnection of your lips. He feels your fingers brush at the hem of his t-shirt and slip just underneath at the same moment as you pull away from him, and he’s so dazed, so fuzzy, so lost in you that he can only tilt his head back to stare up at your face. In your current position, you’re towering over him. It’s easily the best view he’s ever had.
“Can I-…?” you ask breathlessly. The new roughness to your voice goes straight to his cock and he has to restrain himself from bucking his hips upwards.
“Yeah,” he says, leaning forward slightly to try and aid you. Your hands tug at the bottom of his shirt and peel it up over his chest: he raises his arms slightly and soon, you can toss it to the unoccupied side of the couch. He shivers slightly as he relaxes back, both at the chill in your unheated apartment and upon noticing the way you’re staring down at him. It’s addictive.
“Oh my God,” you whisper, jaw a little slack, smoothing your hands over his shoulders to feel every ridge of hard-earned muscle. You travel down his arms, over to his chest, down his stomach… Jihoon sucks in a breath, your warm hands absolutely searing against his skin, and his abdominals tighten beneath them. Tilting your head, you press a line of kisses down the side of his neck, your lips brushing against one almost unbearably sensitive spot when you continue. “Fuck, you’re so hot.”
He smiles bashfully, rolling his head to the side and giving you all the access you want. Your lips tickle euphorically against him as he tugs you flush against his chest, both his hands now tightly pressing against your ass, fingers kneading the muscle concealed by your pants. You’re sitting right over his clothed cock and he’s reasonably sure he can feel your pulse between your thighs, letting out a soft grunt when you roll your hips deliberately down into his own. Your kisses travel to the swell at the curve of his shoulder before moving back up to his lips, where he meets you with a fire that he’s never kissed anyone with, before.
“Says you,” he murmurs into your mouth, your teeth clashing, his hips pushing slightly up off the couch. Just enough to make you sit back from him, just enough for Jihoon to open his eyes and look at you. His hair, thoroughly scrunched up and pulled around by your desperately gripping fingers, fans out at all sorts of angles and his chest has taken on a rosy hue since you last looked at it. With swollen, shiny lips, glossy eyes, breathing deep, he looks completely blissed out, like a man who could unravel beneath you if you moved just right. All from a little tongue action. He’d usually feel embarrassed, but it’s hard to when you’re the person on top of him; to be honest, neither of you would mind much if he did.
You’re pushing yourself up and off him before he can really get his bearings and an audible whine of despair parts his lips at the loss of your weight against his cock. Fuck, these jeans were a bad idea: he’s straining against the denim so much that it hurts, and there’s a near perfect outline of his hard-on. He stops pouting the second you take hold of his hand and tug him upright, though, your eyes dark and determined and intense. He thinks he might faint, actually: from standing too fast and feeling as though all the blood in his body is pulsing through his aching dick, he has to take a moment to stop the edges of his vision going dark before you’re pulling him through to your bedroom.
Something flips inside him the second you have him there. Jihoon, who was more than happy to sit beneath you and let you take all the control in the living room, is pushing you back onto the mattress by your shoulder and slotting himself between your parted thighs the moment the door is closed behind him. He’s past the point of wanting you, now: he needs you, and he needs you to need him, too.
And God, do you. You prop yourself up on one elbow, staring at where he’s now leaning over you with wide eyes and your bottom lip drawn between your teeth. He bends down and kisses along your jawline in response, nipping gently just below your ear. Your back arches up and in a flash, one of his hands is beneath you, snapping open the clasp on your bra with a few slides of his fingers.
“Wh-…” you start, giggling and panting at the same time. He smirks against your pulse point.
He flattens his tongue against you and licks a salty bead of sweat off your skin. “What?”
“Had no idea you could-…” You’re cut off by a gasp as one of his hands slides under your sweater, slipping beneath the garment he just unfastened. His fingertips graze over your breast and a pleading sob escapes you. His smile grows even wider. “You were so…”
“So what?” he prompts, pinching your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Another one of those beautiful sounds breaks the air above you. He does it again, massaging your breast with the palm of his hand. “Come on… talk to me.”
“So good,” you gasp, lying down flat and tilting your head back against the pillows. He rocks forwards to press his cock against you again and your thighs tighten around his hips, one leg hooking around his to keep him there. “So-… fucking good.”
You’re so impossibly irresistible to him, especially like this, and he sits up, settling on his knees to look down at you. Jihoon doesn’t even get the chance to move his hands towards the hem of your sweater to tug it off you though: you’re already grabbing it yourself, crossing your arms to pull it over the top of your head. He can see your bra now, and hell, it’s pretty even if it is just hanging off you. Baby pink and lacy. He thumbs over the material as he helps you pull it down your arms, briefly letting himself wonder if-…
“If only you’d been patient enough to see the set together.”
Oh, so you can read his mind now, too?
You glance down to the small space between your bodies and his eyes follow, lips slightly parted, a heavy sigh on his breath. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck — he wishes he had. Even imagining it, he’s throbbing.
“You wear all this for me?” he asks, hands creeping up the insides of your thighs. You nod up at him and he smiles down at you. “Fuck. I bet you didn’t even need my help tonight at all, did you?”
You’re bucking your hips now as his thumb brushes, agonisingly slowly, over your clothed cunt. One arm has come up to cover your face: for the first time, he acts on his impulsive need to see you shy, see you needy, and leans over you to gently pull it away and pins your wrist down against the mattress. He kisses you, his fingers on the other hand pressing slightly more firmly to where he’s pretty sure your clit is.
“Y/n, you’re so pretty. Let me see you.”
“I didn’t,” you admit, voice wobbling as he works you up so much you’re actually soaking through not just your pretty underwear, but the leggings you’ve had on all night, too. He can feel it against the pad of his thumb and he raises his eyebrows for you to continue. “Just… really wanted you to come over…”
“Mhm. I know,” he soothes, bending low again and kissing down towards your chest. His lips purse over one of your nipples and he sucks it up into his mouth, flicking his tongue over the bud. He releases your wrist with the hand currently taking most of his weight and leans on his elbow, teasing your other tit with his fingers. The weight of it in his palm has him murmuring soft praises against your skin, telling you over and over how good you feel. You push up onto your elbows to try and press him closer — when his teeth tug just slightly, you’re about ready to beg.
“Jihoon, please,” you murmur. He short-circuits, again. Goes blank. His name has always sounded so much sweeter on your tongue, but this? This? Oh, he doesn’t know if he’s ever going to recover. That sound is going to stick in his head for days, months, forever, if he has anything to say about it. But even if his brain isn’t working, his body moves on autopilot: he sits up and hooks his fingers under your waistband, pulling your pants down your legs and discarding them onto the floor.
He’s staring between your thighs with zero functioning brain cells and literal galaxies in his eyes, trying to figure out what cosmic miracle brought someone like you into his life, how on Earth he’s ended up between your thighs. The question is so overwhelming in his mind that he barely notices that you’re moving, at first. Jihoon doesn’t know what causes you to try and bring your thighs together — if it’s shyness or arousal, desperation, a search for friction? — but he stops you as soon as he realises, laying a hand on each of your legs, pinning your knees down now, instead.
“Keep your legs wide for me?” he asks, to which you punctuate a nod with an assenting hum. “Good girl.”
You’re so wet that when he strokes two fingers over your covered pussy, pressing the fabric of your panties into your heat, they come away thinly coated in the arousal that’s seeped through them. He brings his fingers to his lips then, eyes fluttering as he licks your slick off them. You taste otherworldly and he doesn’t hesitate to tell you so with a groan.
“God,” he murmurs, tugging at the waistband of your panties with his other hand. His eyes ask if you’re ready — if you’re sure, and when you nod down at him, he pulls them off completely too. His middle finger slips between your folds, collecting the wetness dribbling out of you, and he drags it slowly upwards towards your clit. He repositions himself again, leaning down over you with his head at your neck, the heel of his hand resting against your lower abdomen. He draws small circles over the bud, laying open-mouthed kisses at your collarbone and listening to the gorgeous sounds you make, learning what you like, following each gasp and moan and chasing as many of them as he can draw out of you.
At the same time as you start rocking your hips up to meet his hand, your nails scratching gently against his scalp again, Jihoon slips his finger down from your swollen clit to press it inside you. You gasp, high-pitched and needy, your cunt spasming around his finger and pulling it in deeper. He’s only in up to his second knuckle but the way you keen for him has him pushing further until it’s buried inside your pussy completely.
“S’this okay?” he asks, but he knows your answer thanks to your vocal responses to him already slowly easing his finger in and out, in and out. You nod your head almost aggressively as he glances up at your face, your eyes squeezed tightly shut, jaw tense, throat bobbing as you swallow hard.
“More — please,” you say not long after. A breath hitches in your throat when he does exactly what you ask, pressing the heel of his hand against your clit and positioning another finger at your entrance. He flexes his wrist slightly to get comfortable, pumping both fingers into you now, and he curls them upwards at just the right time to make your back arch off the bed. “Fuck — mhm, just like that—…”
He moves down your body slightly, reattaching his lips to one of your nipples as he fingers you deep and slow. He’s in no rush: Jihoon thinks he could do this all day and just deal with the RSI later on. You look so unbelievably hot with your face scrunched in pleasure, your thighs quivering as you fight to keep them apart like he asked you to, with your hips twisting down against his hand to try and get his fingers deeper and faster. When he lowers himself all the way down, settling completely between your thighs, he flicks his tongue out over your clit and your back arches up off the bed with a gasp.
“Don’t stop,” you whine, all high-pitched and rushed, both syllables merging into one hurried sound. “Fuck, fuck — please, don’t stop.”
“I’m not going to,” he murmurs, keeping pace and rhythm as he works you towards your high. God, he thinks there couldn’t possibly be anything in the world more sexy than watching you come undone from this angle. Your chest rising and falling in stuttered breaths, your hips rocking down against his hand, your pussy right on his mouth. Just the thought of it has his cock jumping in his boxers. “You gonna come for me, huh?”
“I-…” you start, releasing your death-grip on the bedsheets to bring a hand to cover your face. He clears his throat deliberately — perhaps it’s sort of closer to a growl than a cough — and he thinks maybe you really can read his mind, or maybe you’re learning that he wants to see every inch of you (especially like this), because a second later, it’s tangled up in his hair and holding him in place. “Y-yeah, fuck, I…”
“Good girl,” he coos again, and that breaks you. Your pussy tightens around his fingers and you feel yourself convulse, muscles clenching and releasing as you go over the edge with a cry. He eases you through your climax, tongue laving over your clit, fingers slowing but not stopping inside your cunt until your thighs close around his head in your oversensitivity. He takes the hint, then, and he slowly pulls away, sucking his fingers clean of your arousal while you take a few breaths to recover.
“Oh, my God,” you sigh as he moves back up and starts pressing small pecks over your chest and collarbones, your fingers lacing through his hair again to pull him up to kiss you. You groan softly at the taste of yourself on his lips, and can’t blame you. He still isn’t over it, either.
“You’re so gorgeous,” he tells you in-between kisses, one hand supporting the back of your neck to keep you close. “So pretty. So sweet. So good.”
“Shh,” you giggle, but he doesn’t. Just about every adoring adjective Jihoon has in his arsenal is murmured against your lips until you’ve gathered enough strength to get up on your knees and push him back onto the mattress, fumbling with the button of his jeans.
He groans at the relief as you tug them down over his hips and thighs. “We don’t have to do anything else if you’re—”
“Shh.” This one’s a little more insistent, and he makes a show of clamping his lips back together. “You wore the tightest jeans on the planet, had your cock on-fucking-display for me all evening, and you think I wanna stop now?”
His jaw falls slack at the words that come out of your mouth. The incredulous way with which you say them has him involuntarily bucking up into nothing. Your expression matches his when you finally get his jeans all the way off and his thin, black boxer-briefs are the only barrier between you. The outline of his cock strains against them, tenting the fabric: Jihoon doesn’t miss the way you lick over your lips before glancing up at him through your eyelashes. It’s your turn to give him the look, now, asking that this last part is okay, with your fingertips hooked underneath the elastic waistband. He nods feverishly up at your heavy gaze.
“Please,” he groans, lifting his hips so you can pull them off. His length springs free the moment they’re pulled low enough, slapping back against his abdomen, sitting pretty against his toned muscles, thick and veiny and red-tipped. Desperate. His underwear joins the pile of clothes down the side of the bed as you throw one leg over him; sitting across his thighs, you take his cock into your hand, giving it a few gentle strokes. He fucks up into your palm when you squeeze your fingers around it.
“I need you so fucking bad,” you murmur, head spinning, and Jihoon isn’t in much of a better state himself; he’s fighting to keep his eyes open, fighting to keep his breaths coming. He sits upright, one arm behind him for support, and kisses you hard as you continue to tug at his length.
“Need you, too,” he breathes, shifting so he has both arms around you. In a swift movement, muscles rippling, he lifts you off him and turns you over so he has you sitting on your now impossibly scrunched comforter.
He finds home back between your legs as you reach over into the drawer at your bedside and fumble around for a few seconds. He hears a little clatter and a rustling and when your hand resurfaces, you’ve pulled free a small foil square. You don’t even give him a chance to lean forward and take it; you’re ripping it open and looking up at him with the biggest doe-eyed stare he thinks he’s ever seen. He nods at the silent question, a grunt tumbling free as you roll the condom down his length. This is the most pathetic little bit of contact and he’s fighting demons.
“Okay?” he asks, shuffling back a little and giving you space to lie down flat on your back. You nod up at him, already wrapping your arms around his shoulders.
“Mhm, just-... take it slow?” you ask him, anticipation rendering you already a little breathless. “S’been a while.”
A grin blooms all the way from his lips to his eyes and he leans down to kiss you again, positioning his tip at your hole and pressing forward just enough to tease.
Your thighs tighten around his hips and he pushes himself further inside you with a stuttered groan, agonisingly slowly, inch by inch. He stills every few seconds, both to give you the time to adjust and so that he can take a steadying few breaths and not collapse at how good you feel wrapped around him; he stops pressing his hips forward before he’s fully sheathed inside your pussy and you let a whine slip, the stretch slowly easing.
“You can move,” you tell him, laying a kiss to his chest. “I’m okay.”
Jihoon gives a soft laugh. Oh, he wishes this was just to be polite, but no. He’s in real danger of losing control any second. “Yeah, this isn’t for you, baby.”
“Oh?” you ask. You clamp around him and he gasps at the tightness, hips jerking forward until he’s buried up to the hilt. Fuck, there’s a bruised cervix if you’ve ever had one; a high-pitched whine erupts out of your lips and he ducks his head down to your ear.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “You just-... fuck, you feel so good.”
“Mm, says you.”
It’s another moment before he thrusts with intent, though. But when he does? When he pulls out halfway before sliding all the way back inside you, losing and regaining the feeling of your heat enveloping him entirely, hearing your gasps against his collarbone? The invisible reigns holding him back unravel and he settles into a slow but intensely deep rhythm, guiding your legs around his waist. You hook your ankles behind his back and somehow, you suck him in deeper still, your bodies touching everywhere they possibly can, so impossibly close.
The arm not holding his weight slides beneath your hips and raises them just a little. Now, at this angle, every time he rolls into you he grazes against your sweet-spot and you’re reduced to an incoherent mess within a few minutes. Good, he thinks, because he’s not doing much better, himself.
You hug him tighter after one particularly well-angled thrust, sinking your teeth into the muscle of his shoulder. He hisses at the sting, and your lips part as if you’re about to apologise but he doesn’t give you the chance to; he bumps your nose with his own to ask you to lift your head slightly, before he bends down and kisses you hard.
“Do that again,” he gasps, almost all of his weight against you as the hand not around your hips comes up to rest on your cheek. When your brows tighten, he swipes his thumb over your spit-covered, swollen lips. “Please. ”
So, you do.
Maybe not as harshly as the first time, but your teeth find his collarbone and you suck a bruise into his skin, drawing from him the highest pitched sound you think he could possibly make. He squares his jaw, ducking his head back down, biting on his bottom lip before he has no choice but to speak.
“I’m close, y/n,” he confesses, fucking into you slower, trying to stave it off for a few more seconds, his hips stuttering. “Can-... can you give me one more…?”
You nod, the knot in your stomach already growing tighter and tighter with every movement he makes, and when one of your hands unwinds from around his back to slide between your sweat-slicked bodies, he moves slightly away, letting you reach down.
It’s the sight of two of your fingers finding your clit and rubbing your favourite movements out on yourself that takes him past the point of no return, his cock sliding in and out of you messily, desperately, chasing the high that he’s right on the brink of. He kisses and nips just below your ear, breathy groans tickling your neck, and your high-pitched whine tells him you’ve hit your orgasm just as he starts to spill his into the condom, gushing around him, your walls fluttering and milking him for all he’s worth.
—
You offer for him to shower first – an offer he gratefully accepts. While you’re taking your turn afterwards, Jihoon hunts down a fresh duvet cover in your room; he changes it, grabs you a glass of water for when you’re done, and sits on the edge of his bed with just the towel wrapped around his waist, scrolling through his phone. He looks up with a bright grin as the door opens and you emerge through it in your pyjamas, glowing from the light behind you, stray droplets of water clinging to your arms.
You pause gently rubbing your hair dry with the towel, eyes brightening when you see him. “You didn’t have to do all this,” you say, and he pushes a hand through his own still damp hair with a laugh.
“It was the least I could do,” he counters. You raise your eyebrows at him, crossing the room to sit opposite him. He drops his phone down onto the mattress. “I couldn’t leave and make you change them yourself.”
“Leave?” you ask, picking up one of his hands and playing idly with his fingers.
“I mean, it’s getting pretty late, so…” he says. “I probably need to get going at some point.”
“Or…” you say, tongue darting out over your lips. “Maybe you don’t.”
Jihoon looks down at your hands, then back up at you. Are you suggesting what he thinks you are, or has he still not quite come back to himself from earlier? It’s hard to say if the look on your face is hope, or something else.
“Are you… asking me to stay?” he asks.
“Only if you want to,” you tell him. He lifts your hands up, pressing a kiss to one of your knuckles, then using it to tug you closer to him until he can plant one on your own lips. “I’ve probably got an old t-shirt you could sleep in.”
“Of course I want to.”
So you slip away from him to go rummaging through your drawers, trying to find the promised article of clothing. The whole time, he’s awestruck. Jihoon can’t take his eyes off you.
——————
He wakes up next to you for the first time on a Saturday morning. His sleep-fogged brain registers lying on an unfamiliar mattress, tucked beneath new bedsheets, eyes fluttering open to take in a room he doesn’t quite recognise at first. Part of him wonders if he’s still dreaming. When he rolls over onto his side, and his eyes land on the curve of your shoulders, the fall of your hair down your back, he has to ask himself the same thing again.
All of last night must’ve been a dream, he muses, smiling shyly to himself and watching your frame rise and fall with every slow breath you take. There’s no way you really told him you liked him, too. There’s no way any of it could have really happened.
“Y/n?” He asks in the gentlest of whispers, only wanting to stir you if you’re awake already. When there’s no response, he moves a tiny bit closer to you, hesitating before he slips his arm around your waist and settles with his chest pressed against your back. A wildly insecure part of his brain tries to argue that just because you wanted what happened last night, that doesn’t mean you want all of this now. Maybe you only wanted to sleep with him, or maybe you’ll have changed your mind somehow now the sun’s come up. He considers moving away again, lying on his back and staring at the ceiling until you wake up and he can have a real conversation about where both of your heads are at with everything, but he barely gets a chance.
Those thoughts are silenced almost immediately, his brain falling quiet the second you roll over in his arms. You bury your head in the valley between his pectorals, tucked away from the world beneath his chin. His arms tighten around your sleep-warmed body.
“What time is it?” You ask. He contains a shiver at the softness of your voice, bliss running the length of his spine. Jihoon thinks that he could get used to this.
“I don’t know. Early, I think,” he murmurs, and you whine softly, burrowing deeper against his chest. “Go back to sleep.”
“Not if you’re awake,” you say. He’s not entirely convinced you can stick to that promise, though, with the way you yawn and he feels your eyelashes fluttering.
“Don’t worry about me,” he tells you, the tips of his fingers ticking against your side. He ducks his head, pressing a kiss to your hair. A soft hum rumbles in your throat and he can’t hold back the smile that spreads over his lips. “It’s okay. I don’t mind.”
True enough, you fall back asleep curled up against him and Jihoon, to the sounds of your slowing breaths, drifts off too. A few hours later, at a far more reasonable time, you wake him up with a press of your lips to the tip of his nose.
Innocent, exploratory kisses grow heated in the warmth of the sun that streams through your blinds. Hands start to travel, sleep clothes get discarded, and you have him lying on his back, pressing kisses down his chiselled stomach when his phone starts to vibrate on the floor next to the bed.
He groans at the distraction, again as you shuffle up to sit on your knees and look at him expectantly.
“Are you gonna answer that?” you ask, the tips of your fingers grazing his thighs. He shakes his head, no. “Come on, Jihoon. It might be important.”
“Not important enough,” he sighs.
“At least see who it is,” you laugh. Despite a huffed protest, he props himself up on one elbow, leaning over the side of the bed and glancing down at his phone screen.
Seungcheol.
The arrangement to go for a run this morning comes rushing back to Jihoon, who slaps a hand to his forehead and reaches down to grab his phone off the floor, looking at you apologetically.
“Give me two seconds,” he says, and you grin wickedly up at him, ducking low to press a kiss to one of the lines that disappears down into his boxers.
“Take all the time you need.”
He answers the call frowning, flopping his head back against the pillows.
“Hey, look – I’m really sorry,” he starts to say, but Seungcheol’s voice cuts him off almost straight away.
“Jihoon, where the hell are you? I got to your apartment and your car wasn’t here, and Seokmin said he didn’t hear you come home last night. We all thought you’d died,” he hurries. Jihoon can picture the expression on the other man’s face perfectly, which is pretty unfortunate seeing as how you’ve moved to start palming his hardening cock through his briefs.
“I stayed out,” Jihoon says, a little wobbly. “I can’t make the run, someth-... shit.” You press an open-mouthed kiss to the outline of his length, the heat of your breath through the fabric sending him into overdrive. “Something came up-...”
The line goes silent for a second, and his breath stutters as you do the same thing again. Each press of your lips is euphoric agony, and he’s really not hiding this as well as he wishes he could. One look down at you tells him that you’re very proud of that.
“Dude,” Seungcheol gasps, snickering suddenly. “Tell me you’re not with a girl right now.”
“Shut up. Go away,” Jihoon grunts. “I’ll call you later.”
“Oh my God, is it gym girl? Did you finally-...”
“Bye, Cheol,” he hurries, hanging up before his friend can say anything else. He drops his phone onto the mattress, fake-glaring down at you and shaking his head. “You’re the worst, you know that?”
“Yeah?” you ask, pulling at the waistband of his briefs to tug them down his legs. “Let me make it up to you, huh?”
#woozi smut#svt smut#seventeen smut#lee jihoon smut#woozi x reader#lee jihoon x reader#??? how do i tag anything lmao#running away now it's nearly 2am lmao BYE#j writes.#*
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get this right * aa23
the thought of proposing to you is one that always comes easy to alex, but what he hadn’t expected is how difficult it is to execute it
pairings: alex albon x fem!reader
warnings: literally nOthing just a buNCH OF CUTE SHIT
notes: YALL i’ve been simping for this man for like weeks but in my head, he’s just such a sweetheart that i can’t imagine him in bad situations and nOW I FINALLY GOT IT
also… i’m really liking these multiple scenario fics… if you guys have any suggestions with stuff you want to see, please feel free to send them in here and this has been in my drafts since october oh my gooooood
(f1 masterlist)
“you’re telling me you already bought the ring?” max raises an eyebrow at alex, completely baffled at the story his friend has chosen to bestow upon them.
to the question, alex nods. his head snaps to george, who then asks, “and you’ve had it for almost a month?”
again, the thai nods. “and you have yet to propose?” lando says his piece, just as shocked as the rest of the table is.
alex can only nod, dropping his head in disappointment. in the middle of their circular table sat a red velvet box. inside it is the ring that alex had very carefully picked out with his sisters and mother.
yet the diamond ring sits comfortably in the box instead of your finger. and so does he amongst his friends while he faces the million dollar questions as to why he’s had the ring and has yet to propose to you.
“are you having second thoughts?” charles speaks up, tilting his head and biting his lips in curiosity.
if the answer were to be a ‘yes’, that would be worrisome. considering alex is one of the more romantic people they all know.
“no,” alex finally speak, putting a firm hand down on the table. he meets all of their eyes and feels the judgement. he sighs. “i’m not having second thoughts. i want to marry (y/n) just as much as i said before.”
george lifts his hands up and throws alex a questioning shrug. “so what’s holding you back then?”
“well…” alex chews on the inside of his cheek. he glances down at the box and scrunches up his nose, recounting the numerous times he has tried to get on one knee for you.
“i’m afraid it’s really not that simple.”
-> 20 days ago
alex glances at the door of your shared apartment then his eyes jump to the clock hanging just above your decorative plant. you should be home any minute.
the living room has been decorated beautifully with the help of his sisters. there is a singular heart helium balloon tied down to the bouquet of roses that sits on the kitchen island.
he’s even dressed up in his best suit to greet you a warm welcome home.
he sinks further into his couch, shaking his leg in anticipation. he runs his thumb over the velvet material of the box.
alex hadn’t been planning on proposing to you so soon, if he were to be honest. but he woke up that morning to empty half of the bed, with a note in your handwriting reminding him how much you love him and that breakfast is on the table.
his heart felt so full and he just knew today is the day.
so he got up and called his sisters up. they decorated the house together. with their help, he at least has the slightest idea of what to say to you.
it would be embarrassing if he was stuttering every 5 seconds thinking of what to say to you next.
it was 15 minutes later that he started to get worried about you. you usually get home from work around the same time whenever he’s in town — give or take about 5 minutes.
as if you’d read his mind, his phone lights up with a text notification from you.
my car died. can you pick me up please?
without another question, he is already typing a response to let you know that he will be on the way. he adds on the fact that he will call a tow truck for you after you send him your location.
when he gets there, he sighs in relief that you’re safe. he’d already known you were stuck in the parking lot of a mcdonald’s, but how can he really know when he’s rarely home?
you’re sitting on the trunk of your car, eating some ice cream with your phone propped up a box of nuggets. you’re fully occupied by a video you’ve put on to accompany yourself during the wait.
“my love, why didn’t you sit in the car where the seat’s more comfortable?” alex asks as he opens the car door.
you turn your head and open your mouth with an answer, but immediately close it when he comes into view. your eyes scan him up and down, slowly gulping the remaining ice cream in your mouth.
you point at him with the spoon of your mcflurry. “why are you dressed all fancy? you were gonna go out, love?”
alex freezes. he hadn’t even thought of changing out of his outfit before coming to get you. now he has to scrape his brain for an excuse to throw you off, without sabotaging the relationship whole.
it’s like a lightbulb goes off in his head. you’ll totally buy the excuse. “i was giving my clothes a test run,” he giggles sheepishly, but hesitantly from the daggers you were shooting at him. “wanted to see what fit and what didn’t.”
he can almost envision the gears turning in your head as you process his lie. he sighs again when you turn away to lock your phone.
he’s a very bad liar. for two people who have been together for as long as you’ve been, it’s very easy to spot all his telltales.
he tries his best not to lie to you. today is when he’s exerting every single ounce of his ability to do so.
“my car battery died. i saw a screw lose when i’d checked,” you explain, gently climbing off the back of your car. you waddle over to him, lips puckered up as he bends down to meet your lips. “i’m sorry to trouble you, love. i’m sure you were enjoying your fashion show.”
he chuckles, pulling you in for a quick hug. “anything for you, my love.” he walks over to where you are and opens the mcdonald’s paper bag. “oh, you bought us dinner?”
“you dinner,” you correct him. you lean slightly into him with a loud and frustrated huff with your arms hanging around him loosely. “i’ve had such a long day at work today. it could really be deemed as the worst day; i just want to go home and relax.”
alex scrambles in his mind, thinking of several ways he can deviate you from the house a little longer. he makes a mental note to text his sister to do a quick cleanup before you make your way home.
he simply refuses to propose to you when you’re in a bad mood. he doesn’t think your answer would change depending on how you currently feel, but it just doesn’t feel right.
alex hums, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you. “what do you say we go to our spot up in the hills and chill for a little bit?”
he watches you in anticipation. if you didn’t agree, he really wouldn’t know what to do at all. there are only so many excuses he can make. and there's only so much time before his sisters can get to the apartment and get cleaning.
“hm, okay." you lean into him and squeeze him in your hug. “anywhere with you is relaxing.”
-> 18 days ago
so alex shall try again in the planned department. he is once again in your shared apartment. there is a singular rose this time with dinner on the table. this time, decorated by himself.
he’s practised in the mirror. what he should say. everything he had planned out a few days ago is forgotten as the nerves are slightly different this time.
he doesn't get nervous often, but whenever it comes to you, it's inevitable that it bothers him. when it first happened, it was a confusing feeling that he spent days pondering what exactly it is.
when george smacked his head and told him, he looked down shyly at the ground and nodded.
he got the same feeling when he asked you to be his girlfriend and met your parents.
his chosen seat is a bar stool this time, and he plays some games on his phone to remain calm and collected. though still a little bit distracted.
his attention is split between the phone in his hands and the door. occasionally, the footsteps in the hallway make his heart stop as he looks up and waits for a lock to click. it's never the door he wants to open.
his game is briefly interrupted, his mother's picture flashing on the screen while his phone buzzes. it's not unusual that she's calling, but it is a bit of a shock since she knows he's planning to propose tonight.
he picks up the call, an explanation as to why he hasn't texted at the tip of his tongue.
“i’m sorry, sweetie,” his mother’s panicked voice comes through the phone. “can you please come over? it’s an emergency.”
that’s all he needed to hear before he was darting all over the apartment. he’s popped the balloon, as there was clearly no need for it tonight, the rose is hiding behind a bunch of folded shirts in his drawer and the velvet red box goes back into the deepest pit of his underwear drawer.
this time, he remembers to change out of his clothes. it’s slightly less put together than before, but it was still an effort.
“alex, love?” the sound of the door opening makes him perk up. your voice bounces through the apartment, followed by the pitter-patter of the cats’ nails against the hardwood floor. “are you home?”
he stumbles out of your bedroom, pulling up his sweatpants. “i need to go over to mum’s.”
you stop dead in your tracks, the door still held open and the key in your hands. clearly, you notice his panic in the way he’s barely even greeted you. you raise your eyebrows and step aside, leaving a gap for him to go through the door.
“i can drive you if you want,” you offer him, watching him jog towards the car keys.
he’s shaking, and it’s noticeable from the way he’s struggling to find his wallet. his wallet that is very clearly sitting above the shoerack in the entryway.
you grab it swiftly and say his name. it makes him stop briefly, turning to you as he held up the couch’s cushion, still in search of his wallet.
you lift up the leather item and then show him your car keys. you nudge your head towards the hallway. “come on, i’ll drive.”
-> 10 days ago
third time's the charm, right? right?
alex sits in his chair, hands fixing his collar, then his hair, picking at the menu, and then the lace table cover.
"hey, love," you say from behind him, bending down to press a kiss to his forehead. "i'm sorry i'm late. there was traffic in the parking lot at the office."
"don't worry about it. i just arrived not too long ago." alex gets up to his feet, pulling you in for a tight hug. he presses a chaste kiss to your lips before running over to pull your seat back for you.
you thank him with the squeeze of his arm while you take your seat. you grab the menu and get comfortable in your seat. "have you looked at the menu yet?"
"not yet, i was waiting for you."
he feels like a stalker watching you from across the table. his hand is in his jacket's pocket, rubbing circles over the velvety material once more. when exactly is the right time to ask you?
"how was work?" alex starts, taking the menu into his hands, looking at you shyly as he awaits your response.
"it's alright. nothing out of the ordinary from me," you mutter with a shrug, flashing him a small grin before returning your attention to the menu. "the pasta looks good, don't you think?"
"i saw their salmon dish online - that looked good," alex answers. but he's been on the same page of the menu for a hot minute, his eyes have read the same item so many times that he has its description memorised.
all he can think of is how to transition to popping the question.
"it does look delicious... do you want to share a dessert after too?" you inquire, looking up at him with a huge smile. "i really want the lava cake."
"with vanilla ice cream?"
"of course!"
and you make small talk with him. which almost makes him forget the ring that's in the pocket of his jacket. you talk and he thinks and thinks and tries to find the perfect time to pop the question to you.
until your smile drops and your head angles to the side slightly. your lips part as your eyes move from his, over to the door in pure shock.
"love, what's wrong?" alex follows your moving gaze.
and he also freezes in his seat. it's his ex-girlfriend. the same exact person that you'd mentioned you thought you could never live up to.
all because his mother had slipped up and asked about her over casual conversation over dinner, and because you had noticed that his sisters still kept in constant contact with her.
he watches you, from the corner of his eyes, sink into your seat and drop your head. you press your lips together and give him a small smile. "maybe let's cancel dessert? i'm not very hungry."
-> now
"do you get why it's a little complicated now?" alex groans, throwing his head back. "it's not like i haven't tried."
charles presses his lips together, nodding slightly as he tries to assess the situation for himself. he hasn't proposed to anybody in his life, so what advice does he have to give his friend? "maybe you're overthinking it?"
"yeah," george nods. "maybe you just have to... ask her. just ask her."
"you're aware i'm proposing to her. i'm not just asking some random girl to be my prom date to the dance," alex lays out his situation slowly, scanning his friends' faces carefully.
they're not serious about just asking you without a whole get-up, are they? he never would have asked them if he'd known how minuscule this issue was to them. it's never as simple as just asking you to marry him.
it's an important question.
"actually, i think twiddle dee and twiddle dum have got a point," max smiles, pointing at their two other friends now rolling their eyes. "if it all keeps blowing up in your face when you plan your proposal, maybe you just need to do it when you... get the feeling. you know?"
"no."
"just do it when you're so overwhelmed at the thought of spending the rest of your life with her," george shrugs, taking a sip from his drink. "would help the nerves, and it makes it more genuine."
alex shakes his head. "i don't know. that doesn't make the moment very special, now, does it?"
"just try it, and then let me know."
-> 5 days later
"love!" your excited voice fills the house, prompting alex to lift his head from the armrest of the couch.
he'd been home all day, claiming a rest day from the gym and other press commitments before he had to do it all over again this weekend for another race.
"yes, love?" alex smiles, opening his arms, watching you walk out of the kitchen and excitedly walk over to him. "what's got you so preppy?"
"love, i was outside coming home from work, and i saw the cutest little snail right outside the apartment building," you giggle, dropping your bag by the foot of the couch. you drop yourself into his arms, adjusting yourself to fit the small space that the couch provides you. "i took a picture, look!"
"you took a picture of a snail?"
"yes!" you nod. "its shell looked so beautiful. and i even moved it to the side so that nobody could step on it unknowingly. just so sad when that happens to them."
and then he knows. it hits him, then and there, while you were rambling on about how beautiful this snail's shell is, that this is the moment. this is the moment that max was talking about.
he props his head up with his hand, nodding as you zoom into the picture you'd taken.
"we should get married," alex blurts, unable to hold himself back. the ring is not even with him - it's somewhere in the back of his closet. but it doesn't even seem like a necessary accessory for him at the moment.
"what?" you tilt your head, slowly dropping your hand into your lap. you sit up and look down at him. "alex, what did you say?"
"i have the ring and everything. hold on." alex scrambles to get off his seat, but you shake your head and put a hand over his chest. you pull him back into the couch, maintaining his position next to you with a puzzled stare.
"did you just say what i thought you just said?"
"yes. and i've been trying to propose to you all month," alex sighs, "something always goes wrong: your car broke down, my mum called, then we saw my ex in the restaurant. i tried setting it up, and of course, i ask you when i don't have the ring with me."
he's flailing his arms in the air as he explains his troubles to you, ultimately throwing his hands towards the direction of your bedroom before he slumps his shoulders and looks at you. "i wanted it to be a picture-perfect moment. i wanted it to be everything you dreamt about growing up. remember?"
"so i heard you right? you're asking me to marry you?" you can barely hide the smile growing on your face, eyes tearing up as you grab his hands. "i don't care about the ring. you're asking me to marry you?"
"do you still want to? i couldn't even propose to you right."
"of course, i want to marry you," you giggle, throwing your arms around him. you pepper his cheek with kisses, alex hesitantly wrapping his arms around your waist as he leans back onto the couch. "i love you, alex. you just had to ask me the question. i don't care how, where or when you'd say it."
"obviously, i didn't know that until now," alex laughs. he buries his face into your hair, making a mental note to thank max next weekend for the helpful tip.
#alex albon x reader#alex albon x you#alex albon#formula one#f1#f1 x reader#aa23#disneyprincemuke#disneyprincemuke imagine#disneyprincemuke imagines#disneyprincemuke f1#f1 fanfic
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The Mistletoe Tradition
There was only one piece of decoration left in the box now—it was a dew-fresh mistletoe complete with a red ribbon. And you knew just where to put it.
With a smile, you danced over to Astarion and held the green plant above your head. The vampire spawn looked up, confused and flustered both at the same time.
“Wanna know what my favourite Yule tradition is?”
“I’m sure you’re about to tell me,” he purred.
“Whenever two souls are caught under the mistletoe, they have to kiss.”
A/N: I’m not sure if Christmas/Yule is a thing in Faerûn but if it wasn’t… I sure made it a thing now! Worked in some of his actual quotes for it to be even more relatable because we're all simps, lol. Also using Yule and Christmas interchangeably here because I can. Merry Christmas to you all! ♥
Words: 2197
Warnings: fluff
“Jingle Bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way…” Humming to yourself, you rummaged through your bag to take a closer look at the items you had snatched on your journey today. A bag full of peanuts, perfect to still your hunger on the road, a new dagger you had taken from a corpse, for your old one was falling apart at the hilt, a letter from an Iron Fist written to Lord Enver Gortash himself, and—perhaps most importantly—a little snow globe you had found in an abandoned cottage. It wasn’t much but it was better than nothing and had definitely been worth Lae’zel’s eye roll.
You were headed towards Baldur’s Gate and decided to rest in the Elfsong Tavern where Gale, Wyll, and Halsin were currently discussing the price of a room to stay in for the next couple of days. The air smelled like mulled wine and pine cones, and the tables in the tavern were decorated with tree branches, candles and sliced oranges and cinnamon sticks. The atmosphere was lovely—festive. You leaned against Astarion with your cheek against his chest, a sigh escaping your lips.
The pale elf was quite used to your—at least by his standards—unusual behaviour by now. Well… sort of. He’d expected more hostility toward him after the night he tried to bite you, that much you knew. Instead, you’d offered to help and… huh, secretly drooled all over him.
He certainly knew what he was doing and you hated that it worked. You didn’t want to turn into a giggling and blushing mess in his presence and yet… that was exactly what happened. Every. Single. Day. You tried to hide it as best as you could but at this point, you were pretty certain that he knew you were a hopeless case whenever he was near. And once you’d started sleeping with each other… you had become putty in his hands entirely, desperate for his touch even when it wasn’t sexual.
You offered him a cuddling dose daily now and you never let go until he did.
“All right, everyone. We’re settled. The owner has agreed to give us one of the suites upstairs. It has thirteen beds, its own washing area, and a fireplace. I don’t know about you but I am knackered,” Wyll announced as he cracked his bones.
“You go ahead without me. I’d like to take care of something real quick. I won’t be long,” you said, the idea thundering through your head with a start having you beam from the inside out.
Gale lifted a hand as if to raise everyone’s attention before speaking. “I hope so! I have a perfectly hearty rabbit stew planned for supper.”
It had taken the inn owner ten gold pieces and a lot of convincing to get you a Yule Tree. Was it important in midst of everything that was happening? Possibly not. Were you still humming Christmas songs yet again as you carried a small box full of ornaments and decorations up the wooden stairs to your room? Absolutely.
Gale was already cooking. They all knew the very moment you entered the room with it that the tree someone had brought up in the meantime was your doing. And now, while the others were getting ready to rest for the day, you began decorating the room as if you didn’t have a care in the world. And for just a moment, you pretended you didn’t.
You spotted Astarion glancing at you from the corners of your eye. He’d crossed his arms before his chest, looking as handsome as ever and even more so now with his hair still a little damp from getting the dust of the road off of him.
“Need something?” You smiled, noticing how he admired the pine cones dipped in molten silver and the delicious-smelling orange slices on the tree for just a second too long. The straw stars you were specifically proud of as you stood on your tiptoes and stretched to put the biggest one on the tip of the tree, completing your masterwork.
“Oh, don’t mind me… I’m just enjoying the show.”
You blinked at him, gnashing your teeth as you felt a treacherous heat creeping up your cheeks, for his gaze was by no means fixed on the tree anymore but your behind. At times it was still hard to believe this incredible elf was attracted to you of all people.
“Is this really necessary? I mean, really? You’re wasting our time and energy on decorating a tree?”
“Hey… we won’t know yet if that’s our last Christmas. I don’t mean to be pessimistic but you know just as well as I do that there is a good chance we won’t make it out of this alive. I might as well enjoy the little things until… I can’t. You never know. Besides, this is the first time in weeks we’re sleeping with a roof over our heads. We have beds and a fireplace. I would be silly not to decorate a little, especially with a recent murder right next door.”
“Well… I suppose… but don’t expect me to help you.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it, oh fangy one! I’m actually done and it looks absolutely amazing, if I may say so.”
Astarion scoffed—playfully so. It was then Halsin joined, admiring your tree up close with a second portion of stew in his hands.
“Well, I think it looks beautiful. There’s no better way to get into the festive spirit than with a little bit of nature in one’s home.”
You fought hard to hide the chuckle bubbling up your throat when Astarion rolled his eyes as soon as the druid turned away again.
“The man really can’t shut up about enjoying the freedom of nature’s gifts.”
You couldn’t help it. You burst out laughing. Needless to say, your companions’ shocked expressions made you cackle even more but perhaps the surprise on Astarion’s face was what brought you even more joy than the way he had mimicked Halsin.
“In the end, it won’t be the mind flayers who kill me. It’ll be you,” you choked out, wiping your eyes with the ball of your thumb. Gods, you were actually crying from laughter.
There was only one piece of decoration left in the box now—it was a dew-fresh mistletoe complete with a red ribbon. And you knew just where to put it.
With a smile, you danced over to Astarion and held the green plant above your head. The vampire spawn looked up, confused and flustered both at the same time.
“Wanna know what my favourite Yule tradition is?”
“I’m sure you’re about to tell me,” he purred.
“Whenever two souls are caught under the mistletoe, they have to kiss.”
“Do they now?”
You grinned.
“Well… in that case, we better not risk the wrath of whatever god came up with it.”
“That would be Frigg, wife of Odin and mother of Baldur who never wanted the mistletoe to be forgotten again after Loki—“ You didn’t manage to finish your sentence for in the next moment, Astarion pulled you close and pressed his lips against yours. The kiss was a promise and a reward, a display of affection… and a small gesture of care warming your heart.
“How do you always do that?” you murmured against his mouth, breaking the kiss just long enough to draw a deep breath. “Leave me wanting for more? Tempting me?”
“Tempting you, hmm? Well… You know what they say… the only way to cure a temptation… is to give in to it.”
A little squeak escaped your lips before you could stop yourself. You pressed your lips together to a thin line, eyes wide as your hand flew up to your mouth to cover it. But of course, Astarion had heard you. Amused, he quirked an eyebrow.
“What was that?”
“N-nothing.”
“Really? Because I think I heard quite the delectable little noise coming from your lips just now.”
“N-no. Oh gods, you have to stop this. I will melt, Astarion. I will literally melt and then you can go get a mop and wipe me up!”
Astarion laughed, surprise mixing with delight. “Oh, darling, I could go all night… as you well know,” he purred.
Another squeak. He’d caught on to it now, of course—that the reason for those inhumane sounds escaping your body was all his doing. Oh, for fuck’s sake…
“Okay, that’s it.” Arms akimbo, you narrowed your eyes at him. You were all but flustered when you grabbed the collar of his shirt with such vigour, the tiniest hint of surprise and hesitation flittered across his face before his smug smirk returned and you kissed him yet again, longer and more passionately this time.
“You really will be the death of me” you breathed against his lips. “It’s a nice way to go though, I won’t complain.” The urge to rip off his clothes there and then grew stronger with every passing second. You knew he wasn’t ready yet, despite his relentless teasing and you’d be the last person to push him but… judging by how he wrapped his arms around your waist yet again and pressed you closer to his body yet again, a heartfelt kiss was never off limits.
You sighed against his lips, the mistletoe dropping to the ground. Only the gods knew what would have happened if you had not been interrupted despite your fellow companions still in the room but alas, the door burst open with a bang so loud you both flinched.
“This… is… AWESOME!” When Karlach entered the room, she was wearing the ugliest Yule sweater you had ever seen. Tinsel and two baubles were hanging from her horn and in her hands, she held a massive candy cane and a mug of what you assumed was eggnog. “I LOVE Christmas! Oh, you got us a tree! We should go and buy presents for each other to unwrap tomorrow!”
“Karlach, please, it’s late and I’m tired,” Astarion complained.
“Fiiiine, tomorrow morning then. A kid downstairs just told me about this fat guy called Santa who climbs through the chimney and puts gifts under the tree if you leave him cookies and milk. Do we have cookies and milk? We have to get cookies and milk!”
You laughed. In that case… you certainly had a long night ahead of you before you could get a good night’s sleep.
Everyone was fast asleep by the time you got up and tiptoed across the cool floorboards on naked feet in the dark, past the crackling fire in the centre of the warm and cosy room, and toward Astarion’s bed. You could hear the wind blowing outside the tavern in the dead of night as you climbed under the covers and cuddled up to your lover who had, without a doubt, been expecting you. Astarion wrapped you in his arms, his lips grazing your bare neck ever so slightly.
“Hello, darling.”
At peace and content, you both listened to the instruments Gale enchanted to play quiet music to lull you all to sleep.
“Well, aren’t you brave, revealing your lovely neck to a vampire like that?”
You chuckled into his pillow, stretching even more.
“You know… I think we’re past the point now where I have to tell you each night that you can… I mean… if you’re hungry just… feed on me, alright?”
“R-Right.” For a moment, a both vulnerable and surprised expression washed over his handsome face—but it was gone before your memory could properly capture it, not to mention the darkness around you made that very difficult. He was so incredibly good at masking his feelings, that you longed to cuddle the shit out of him and tell him that it was all going to be okay. “Well… I’ve only just learned how wonderful it feels to have a choice and have your boundaries respected, all thanks to you. I’d actually prefer if you asked.”
So instead, you settled for wriggling yourself under the covers until he stirred.
“That’s… that’s good. That’s very good,” you whispered as you cuddled up to him even more.
“So? Can’t you sleep or are you just too excited until morning to see me again, love?”
You chuckled. “Your bed is more comfortable than mine.”
In the dark, it was hard to tell whether Astarion’s confusion was real or feigned. It was amusing nonetheless. “You will find that all the beds in this room are the same, pet.”
“No. No they aren’t. Mine doesn’t have you in it.”
“Oh… my cheeky little pup.”
Your chuckle turned into a childish giggle as a jolt of electricity rippled through you as if Gale had hit you with a lightning blast.
“You know exactly what you’re doing to me, don’t you?” you whispered.
Astarion hummed in response. “Well… yes. Though I have to admit I have never met anyone displaying their excitement as openly as you, darling.”
“I’ll make sure to never stop. Merry Christmas, Astarion.”
The vampire spawn sighed when you shuffled even closer and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek.
“Merry Christmas, love.”
A/N: And Merry Christmas to you all as well! ♥ I had to dedicate this year's Christmas Imagine to Astarion. I fell so hard for him thanks to Neil, it's insane. I hope you'll spend some lovely days with your loved ones! ♥
#astarion#astarion imagine#astarion x you#astarion x reader#astarion x tav#astarion fluff#astarion ancunin#astarion ancunin imagine#astarion ancunin x you#astarion ancunin x reader#astarion ancunin x tav#baldurs gate 3#baldurs gate 3 imagine#neil newbon
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Dorm Leaders (minus Vil) reacting to the reader calling them Beautiful
I may be sick but my head is overflowing with writing ideas so I have to do this. I’m excluding Vil because Vil already knows he is beautiful, so all the Vil simps don't be upset ok. Enjoy :)
Riddle Rosehearts🍓
🍓"!?!?!!?!?!!" Riddle was left stunned at what you had said, and his hair strands jumped up in shock.
🍓Him? Beautiful? That word was never brought up whenever someone would talk about him or mention him. Riddle has been called many things like "smart", "talented", "strict", and cough cough "short" (even though he despises that word), but he has never been called beautiful before.
🍓After Riddle calmed down, he would look at you with judging eyes, most likely thinking you were joking and it was a prank suggested by Ace or Floyd, but as he kept looking into your kind eyes, he realized you meant it truly.
🍓Cue a blushing Riddle, as he looked away from you, embarrassed then looked back at you again: "You are very bold, Y/N. Most people are afraid to say anything to me, yet here you are, casually calling me beautiful."
🍓If you tell Riddle, you will never be afraid of him and will always find him beautiful, yelp good job, you just broke Riddle, as he will turn red all the way up to his ears and neck, and his eyes will become watery, as he will be feeling emotional from your sweet comment.
🍓Everyone in Heartslabyul will notice that Riddle will be in a joyful mood the day after you called him beautiful. He will be smiling more and be less strict with the rules. Heck he even let Ace go with just a warning, instead of collaring him.
Leona Kingscholar🦁
🦁You and Leona were both hanging out near a tree in the botanical gardens, with you reading a book for class and Leona sleeping next to you. As you gazed at Leona's peaceful face, you called him beautiful then went back to reading your book.
🦁Well that woke up Leona from his nap. Leona eyes both opened up in shock and he glanced towards you, not expecting, you the Herbivore, to call him beautiful.
🦁The smirk on Leona's face will be huge, as he reached his hand towards your face, moving your head for you to look at him. "Heh, you expecting to butter me up with compliments, Herbivore? You just calling me that so I can help you with your assignments."
🦁Shaking your head, you told Leona that you were stating a fact and that he really was beautiful. You even said that you found him very beautiful the day you stepped on his tail, yet you didn't say it out loud.
🦁This mans ego was already big to begin with, and you had succeeded in making it even bigger. Leona still had that smirk on his face, but his face was slightly flushed and he was giving you bedroom eyes.
🦁Leona quickly got up off the ground, grabbed you while flinging you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and began speed running back to his dorm. Good job Y/N, you have woken the beast and he was going to take his time with you and expects to hear more compliments about how beautiful he is.
Azul Ashengrotto🐙
🐙"CRACK!" Azul glasses had broke the minute you said that comment to Azul as both him and apparently his glasses were in shock from your comment.
🐙Azul was just on his desk, finishing some documents, and you had just walked into the room to give him some tea and then all of a sudden, said that to him.
🐙Azul immediately didn't believe the word that came out of your mouth. He honestly thought the twins had set you up to this as a way to mess with him. Feelings of insecurity began to rise in Azul as he told you not to lie to him, as he was never called beautiful once in his life, especially to how he was bullied during childhood due to how he looked.
🐙You told Azul that you don't joke about stuff like this, as you walk over towards Azul and place your hand on his cheek. You tell Azul that he is beautiful, including his merman form, and he shouldn't believe the hurtful things that he was called in the past.
🐙Azul started to sob uncontrollably at your kind words, as he moved closer towards you and pulled you into a hug, with his head on your chest. Your words had a big impact on Azul as he slowly started to build confidence and appreciate his merform a bit more instead of hating it.
Kalim Al-Asim☀️
☀️"OH THANK YOU Y/N!! YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL TOO!"
☀️Kalim wasn't really fazed by your compliment as he always complimented everyone he met, so it didn't come as much of a shock when you called him beautiful.
☀️Still this adorable sunshine boy was very happy and gave you a giant bear hug, and offered to give you a ride on his magic carpet.
☀️You accepted the offer and both you and Kalim flew around Scarabia. After a while, the both of you stayed on the magic carpet and just hovered above while looking up at the starry sky.
☀️Kalim turned towards you and noticed you were staring at him and he asked what was wrong. Feeling shy, you turned your head away and apologized saying you were staring at him cause he was really beautiful
☀️He blushed this time and felt butterflies in his stomach. Kalim was starting to realized that you calling him that made his heart ache. He hugged you again and gave you many smooches on your face.
Idia Shroud🎮
🎮 “CRITICAL HIT!!!!!!!” Idia had literally clutched his chest and collapsed from his bed in utter shock
🎮you were in Idias room, watching him during one of his gaming streams. You liked watching him play in person because you get to see many of his expressions especially his smile which he didn’t always do, and you found his smile very beautiful, but you had accidentally said that out loud in front of him and he had heard you
🎮 “NANI?!? NANI NANI?!?!?!? THEY CALLED ME BEAUTIFUL?!?!?!? OMG THIS IS LIKE THE SCENE FROM AN ANIME WHERE THE UNPOPULAR GUY GETS ASKED OUT BY HIS CRUSH?!?!? THIS CAN’T BE HAPPENING RIGHT NOW!!!”
🎮Idia’s mind was racing a thousand thoughts a second, but he eventually snapped out of it when you had tapped one of his legs that was still dangling on the bed, asking him if he was ok
🎮Idia got up slowly like a zombie and sat back down on his bed, cross-crossing his legs while pulling his hoodie up over his head, hiding his face from you. “P-player 2. You can’t be serious. Me? B-b-beautiful? No way.”
🎮Heaving a sigh, you grabbed Idia’s face and told him to look up at you. Shocked, Idia looked up at you, not expecting you to touch him like that. You began complimenting his hair, his face, his smile, his voice and you go on to tell him that he can keep denying he is beautiful but you will continue to call him that no matter what.
🎮His neon blue fire hair started to glow bright pink, as his heart began to skip a beat at your words. You smiled at him and wrapped your arms around him in a hug. Idia stayed still like a statue, but he slowly melted into your hug and gave you a quiet “thank you.”
Malleus Draconia🐲
🐲 “…..” Malleus was left baffled by your words. The both of you were strolling near an abandoned building, observing the structure and admiring the gargoyles. Malleus was going on and on, taking about how beautiful they were and you had agreed with him, while also saying he was too
🐲Malleus was a crowned prince and also one of the strongest mages in the world, so he is often feared by others for his magic and intimidating aura, but then you, a magicless human, who had just arrived to this world out of nowhere, called him beautiful, without any fear or hesitation
🐲Silence filled the air, as both you and Malleus stared at each other, until you broke it and looked away from Malleus, embarrassed at having said that, but you turned back to Malleus in shock as he started laughing
🐲 “Hahaha, Child of Man, you are a strange one indeed. Never has someone called me beautiful before. It is a very odd feeling, but I don’t detest it. Thank you.” Malleus made his way closer towards you and patted your head, smiling kindly at you.
🐲Blushing, you looked back at Malleus with a smile and said your welcome. Malleus continued to gaze at you with loving eyes, as he leaned closer and gave you a kiss on the forehead, and then he disappeared, leaving behind glowing fireflies.
#twisted wonderland#twst#disney twisted wonderland#disney twst#riddle rosehearts#twst x reader#twst riddle#twisted wonderland x reader#twst disney#leona kingscholar#dorm leaders#dorm leaders x reader#twst dorm leaders#twst writing#leona kingsholar x reader#azul ashengrotto x reader#kalim al asim x reader#idia shroud x reader#malleus draconia x reader#twst x you#fluff headcanons#twst fluff#twisted wonderland housewardens
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Hi😊 could you maybe do one where LMK Wukong is just a total simp for the reader and completely head over heels for them. Like he falls in love at first sight seeing their eyes (sort of like Leo from TMNT Mutant Mayhem?)
Wukong Completly in Love With His S/O
Oh man, I love writing for love-sick Wukong, ok here we go.
You two had first met when he was in a hoodie walking around town, both of your hands touching as you reached for the handle strap.
His golden eyes stared down into yours as he felt his heart explode from your gorgeous orbs, seemingly getting lost in them as he continued to stare.
You smiled at him as he let you hold the strap, thanking him as you stood next to him on the fast-moving train.
Unknowing to you, he kept taking quick glances at your features. He took in every little detail from a freckle to your eyes once more.
Gods, he could look into them for centuries.
He eventually worked up the courage to ask to see you again, your relationship only blossomed from there.
Even after dating, he still sees himself staring at you and everything you do with pure adoration.
You want to work on some house chores? Awesome! He’ll help and watch!
You to just watch movies with him? Only if you cuddle and he can look down at you the entire time!
“Ah! Yeah, we can watch a movie! C’mere, lemme hold ya’.” He’ll make grabbing motions with his fingers to signal you to come closer.
Loves coming home to your smiling face after training with MK, immediately wrapping his arms around you as he pepper kisses all over your face.
He’ll nuzzle his nose into your neck as you laugh from the feeling, his ears twitching from his pure love to hear you laugh.
Whenever you’re around him, his monkey tail will curl into a heart shape as he is bad at hiding his emotions (he thinks otherwise).
“Me? Bad at hiding my emotions? Pshh, I’m great at that!”
(Name) walks up to him.
Instant hearts in his eyes and flushed cheeks.
No shame in it either, he loves his partner damnit!
Loves taking you up for rides on his cloud, the feeling of your arms wrapping around his waist as the wind whips through his fur is addicting.
As you land on the ground, he scoops you up into his arms and carries you to your destination.
“W-Wukong, you don’t have to carry me!”
“I know peaches, but I wanna! Besides, don’t want you getting too tired before our date.”
Will plan picnics and other dates on Flower Fruit Mountain for the both of you as he wants you to have a great time with him (you always do and you tell him that of course).
Overall, yeah this man is completely smitten when it comes to you and he does not hold back in public after the first few days of dating.
Will hold your hand and waist whenever in public, kissing your cheek as people stare at you both.
He had no problems showing how much he loves you.
#ask#lmk#lego monkie kid#lmk x reader#lego monkie kid x reader#lmk sun wukong#sun wukong#lego monkie kid sun wukong x reader#lmk wukong x reader#sun wukong x reader#wukong x reader
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you are my love (j.m.)
tv show/movie: outer banks | pairing: jj maybank x fem!reader
requested by a lovely anon as part of my 800 follower celebration
a/n: i made kiara, john b, and sarah really mean in this, but its mostly kiara and sarah (john b is a little jealous tho so he joins in). in no way is this anti-these characters, they are just more likely to act this way until told off!
synopsis: jj's friends don't like y/n. y/n knows that but desperately tries everything. jj doesn't quite notice, pushing his friends further from y/n. This leads to an explosion that might result in the end of jj and reader.
taglist: @luvhann | @thelakespoets | @lonely-simp | @smarie7543 | @tenaciousperfectionunknown | @k-k0129 | @maybankslover *line through you user means i could not tag you lovelies!
warnings: people being mean and shitty - basically bullying reader.
navigation | masterlist | taglist sign-up
- not my gif -
GIF by masonmaya31
One bonus to dating outside of your friend group: in case of a breakup, you don’t need to find new friends. One downside: what happens when your boyfriend’s friends don’t like you? That is what Y/N is worried about. Things with JJ had gotten serious, the L-word having slipped out at the sixth-month mark. Now, nearly a year into their relationship, it appeared that his friend group was reluctant to let her in and it was making her nervous.
It was a small, tight-knit group and JJ was basically the only thing connecting her to them aside from them all living on The Cut. Well, that isn’t necessarily true, Pope did tutor her in Chemistry in freshman year and still remains friendly. In fact, Pope was really the only one who was welcoming to her. And that stung. Especially since JJ told her that John B all but forced Sarah Cameron into the group. But now that JJ was introducing her into the mix, they all seemed unwilling. JJ took some notice, but he just thought they needed to warm up to her. They were like cats - it takes a while to get them to start accepting you.
But JJ didn’t see the eye rolls and the shared glances between Kiara, John B, and sometimes Sarah Cameron whenever she does anything, says anything, or JJ talks about her (which, he does that a lot, making her blush and want to curl into herself). She loved when he was talking about her because he looked like he was talking about his most favourite thing on the planet - no. His favourite thing in existence. She hated hearing about herself so much, but the look on his face was enough for her to suffer through it - especially when she could always clearly see the horrible faces of his friends.
Even now, she wasn’t even with them. Standing at a distance as she waited at the coffee cart for their orders with Pope, she watched them peering into a store window. The store alone looked fancier than any of their houses (aside from Sarah Cameron’s) and Y/N was sure one item from it cost more than their houses combined - including Sarah Cameron’s probably. “Look at this,” JJ pointed to something in the store window. “This painting reminds me of Y/N.”
“JJ, it’s a replica of The Girl with a Pearl Earring, I don’t think it can remind you of, Y/N.” Sarah Cameron snarked, sharing looks with Kiara and John B behind JJ’s back. Their noses curled up in a sneer and their eyes rolled so hard that Y/N feared that they would roll right back in their heads.
JJ looked back at them and they dropped their faces. “I know what it is, she’s the one who showed me the painting. It’s her favourite. She talked my ear off for hours on one of our first dates about it.” He blinked, pulling a face as he broke through the three of them, making his way back over to the coffee cart.
____
The air was heavy with awkwardness that JJ seemed to not notice as Y/N sat beside him, tucked under his arm and reclining back against his chest. He leaned back against John B’s ratty old couch, smoke rolling from his lips as he exhaled. “Did Y/N tell you guys that her essay on the significance of Gatsby in the modern world was entered into a nation-wide contest to be put in some sort of magazine or something?” JJ spoke up suddenly when there was a lull in the conversation.
Y/N felt the uncomfortable heat rising in her cheeks, making her cover them with her hands - dropping her hold on JJ’s because of it. He always was finding a way to talk about her. “That’s so cool, what magazine?” Pope asked, his hand pausing in his popcorn bowl.
“It’s some sort of fancy one,” JJ tried to think of the name, taking another drag of his joint. Breathing out the smoke all the way, he waited until there was no more before looking down at Y/N. “What is it called? It’s big, talks about politics a lot-”
“The New Yorker,” She answered, mumbling as if it wasn’t something to be proud of that her essay met the qualifying conditions to be entered, let alone the fact that she is one of the finalists. “My teacher kinda twisted my arm into it and I didn’t have anything to lose so I let her submit it for me. It’s not a big deal.”
“Are you kidding me? It’s a huge deal, Babe!” JJ exclaimed, looking down at her as he leaned forward, cradling her gently as she moved with him, stubbing the blunt out and laying it carelessly on the coffee table. John B and Kiara’s eyes watched it, shocked that he put over half a blunt down.
“It really is. The New Yorker is huge and for a high school student’s essay to be even just considered by them is big enough.” Pope nodded, popping two pieces of popcorn in his mouth.
“I don’t see what the big deal is,” Kiara spoke up with a shrug. Her body language and movements made it seem like it was just a simple comment. A nonchalant input to keep the conversation going. But her tone was sharp and jagged. Like a broken piece of glass aimed for the heart. Pope looked at her oddly, JJ seeming to not notice her tone. “I mean, it is a contest looking at other high school student’s essays. It’s not like she’s up against university students or published authors here.”
Y/N blinked, eyes drifting down to her lap where her hands now lay, fingers twisting and tugging at each other as she tried to not let the words and tone hit her. “What are you talking about? She’s like the only student in the contest still that attends a public school. The rest are all preppy little shits that probably pay for people to write their essays.” JJ questioned her, voice high in question.
Kiara rolled her eyes. “I know someone who is still in the running. They go to a fancy private school in Connecticut and she averaged a D in English class,” Sarah chimed in from where she sat on John B’s lap, a red solo cup clutched in her hand. “I don’t think the competition is too stiff.”
“You know, they’re probably right. It’s just a stupid contest and I didn’t even want to enter it anyway,” Y/N spoke up, swinging her legs over the edge of the couch and lifting herself from her little nook. JJ’s arm tried to tighten and pull her back, but she stood too quickly, not meeting anyone’s eyes as she tried not to cry. She was excited and proud about the fact that she was a finalist. But now, she wasn’t so sure. Not after they shit all over it. “We can just talk about something else, I’m gonna go into the kitchen and get some water.”
Quickly, she bolted for the kitchen, weaving around the few people who wandered into the house from the party outside. She blinked furiously, trying to force back the tears. They already didn’t like her, she didn’t want them to think she was a cry baby too. John B’s house wasn’t big, and the noise from outside wasn’t too loud which meant she could hear JJ’s hushed words digging into three of his friends and Pope’s noises of support. “What the hell is wrong with you guys? She’s excited about this and you just shit all over her accomplishment when she’s been nothing but nice to you guys!”
“It’s not our fault she’s sensitive, we were just being honest. She doesn’t have to get so upset.” Kie spoke her normal tone, her voice reaching Y/N easily as she hid behind the fridge door, trying to make it look like she couldn’t find a bottle of water even though they were right in front of her.
“Yeah bro,” John B spoke up. “Maybe they shut the conversation down because we’re tired of hearing about Y/N-”
“What the hell,” JJ roared, standing up before looking over at the fridge, trying to see if Y/N heard it. “Tired? You know what I was tired of? Trying to convince Kie to accept Sarah and hearing you complain about it. You know what was tiring? Hearing you,” He pointed to John B. “Whine like a bitch when Sarah and you had that three week fight.”
“Those are not the same! You talk about Y/N all the fucking time,” Kie stood up, not caring that she was yelling now. “It’s always Y/N this and Y/N that! And let me fucking tell you, she’s not that special!” Ouch, that hurt. Y/N winced, tears welling in her eyes.
“She’s a little bit of a bitch, honestly-”
“What the fuck did you just say,” JJ interrupted Sarah’s comment, eyes flaring with anger. Just then, the fridge door slammed and Y/N took off towards the door. It was a flash of purple (the colour of the dress JJ saved up for and bought her for her birthday which was yesterday. Pope stood, rushing after her - sensing that JJ was about to tear a strip off of their friends. “Please, tell me how she is a bitch when she gave you her last five dollars left in her paycheque so that you could have an ice cream with us when you forgot your wallet,” He directed that at Kiara. “And what about how she gave you her surfboard to use when you forgot yours? She sat there on the beach with nothing to do for three hours while you used her board,” He pointed to John B. “And you, she literally gave you the shorts she was wearing when you sat in gum so that you could go buy a new pair. You never gave them back by the way and she had to buy new ones that trip,” He pointed to Sarah who had shrunk back into the couch she was sitting on. “That is the girl that I love and you guys have been nothing but horrible to her and if I lose her, this is all on you three and I will never speak to you again. Actually, I don’t even know if I will speak to you again after tonight!”
With that, he stormed off, crossing the room and slamming the door all within ten seconds. It took him a second to spot Y/N and Pope, but soon his burning blue eyes spotted them at the end of the dock, Y/N’s hunched frame shaking. Pope’s hand was on her shoulder, talking quietly to - reassuring her.
Once JJ saw her, it was like his feet were moving on their own - carrying him to her. Within a minute, he was standing in front of her, Pope heading back into the house to gather her stuff so JJ could take her home. Hands on her shoulders, he tried to dip down to look at her, but she wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Y/N-” He repeated her name in whispers, trying to get her to look at him.
“No, JJ,” She sniffled and his heart broke hearing the hurt in her voice. “They don’t like me. I have tried to get them to like me. I have tried everything. I was talkative then I stayed silent. I was nice to them. I tried everything and now you’re gonna break up with me because they are your best friends and they have been with you through so much-” She cut herself off with a little sniffle. “And I can’t bring myself to look at you because I know you’re gonna break up with me and my heart can’t handle so much rejection then heartbreak.”
JJ’s hands slid along her jaw, cupping her cheeks. Gently, he lifted her face so she was looking at him. Bloodshot and water filled eyes of someone so kind and innocent blinked up at him. A teardrop rolled from the corner of her eye. Quickly, it was swiped away by his thumb. “Y/N, I’m not going to break up with you because those assholes in there can’t see how happy you make me.”
“But, JJ-”
“I don’t give a damn if they are my friends. I don’t care if one of them was a saint. If they don’t like you and are mean to you, the sweetest, kindest, and most likeable person I know, then they are the problem, okay,” He asked, his own eyes welling up with tears. “You, You are the one I love. You are the person who makes me the happiest person ever. You are my best friend. You are my love.” He nearly chanted, his forehead resting against hers.
“So, what does this mean for your friend group?” She whispered, guilt eating at her. Even after they spoke so horribly of her, she was still worried about their friendship with JJ.
“I have no idea, but I am sure that with you by my side, I’m going to be okay.” He whispered like a prayer, arms wrapping around her, pulling her into a hug. He knew that was what she needed. She didn’t need a kiss. She didn’t need the words he just spoke (though they helped a lot). She just needed him to hold her. Hold her for however long she needed. So that she knew he was there. She always said a hug is the best way to feel someone’s love for you. A hug given the right way is like a hug to the heart. And this hug proved her statement.
#pappydaddy's 800 follower celebration#pappydaddy writes#outer banks#outer banks imagines#jj maybank imagine#jj maybank imagines#jj maybank#jj maybank x fem!reader#jj maybank x reader#jj maybank fluff#jj maybank angst#jj maybank fanfiction#jj maybank blurb#jj maybank x you#jj maybank x pogue!reader#jj maybank fic#jj maybank obx#outer banks fics#outer banks angst#outer banks fic#jj outer banks
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SWEET 『cigarettes after sex』
MASTERLIST
popular girl x quiet nerd simon
warnings: kissing, horny and simp simon, cuming untouched. And sweetness ♡
cute little series I'm starting. I hope you like this as much as I do. Enjoy and leave any comments on where I can improve, but please be nice, I'm sensitive 💋 this isn't proofread as its currently just past midnight and I'm sleepy and don't want to overthink about posting this. xxx
『★』
Simon thought you didn't notice him staring at you all year. You're popular and he's... a nerd. The amount of picking on you would endure if you did anything with him... you didn't want to think about it.
Yet you couldn't help but smile at your Math teacher as he assigned Simon - the top of the class - to help you with your studies.
Here's the catch, you act dumb and stupid to fit in with your friend group when in reality, whenever there's a test, you never fail to achieve the A+.
"You won't be disappointed," you respond, heading out of class to see it empty.
None of your friends waited for you after class but you brush that aside, looking around for Simon. A minute later, you find him by his locker, taking all of his books and transferring them into his bag.
The bell rings, signaling the end of the school day. "Hi Simon," your sweet voice rang out.
He jumps, dropping his bag, his books scattering on a pile at your feet. He stumbles over his words, eyes wondering over your gorgeous face. His mind was reeling at the fact you knew his name?!
"I... uhh..." he clears his throat, gathering himself. His crush, his godamn crush since forever, is talking to him. Him. "Everything okay?" His voice steadies out, playing it cool.
Your lips quirk, not realising his voice was so deep. You have to look up, yourself standing at 5'5 and him standing at 6'2. You're both 17, so there's still growing to occur.
"Yes, everything's good," you speak, unable to stop your gaze to trailing to his arms. Its so obvious he works hard at the gym. "Mr Barnes assigned you as my study partner."
His eyes widen slightly, taken aback. "Me and... you. Study partners?" He speaks slowly.
He sees your eyebrows furrow. Fuck sake, idiot, he curses in his mind, being an asshole isn't the way to go.
"Um, yeah, for Maths. My grades have dropped so..." You trail off. Does he not like you? You were so sure. He's always glancing at you.
His pause makes you reinforce the idea he's never liked you. "I'll get a new partner," you speak, beginning to step away.
He grabs your wrist, and your eyes snap to his. God, your eyes and politeness... is he still grabbing you? He is! Fuck! Think, think, think!
"Tomorrow after school?" He questions, way too nervous. He bets you can feel his hand shaking. "Your place?" Too bold, Simon.
But you smile, warm, lovely. "Sure, meet here after the last period?" Your unable to tear your gaze from his stunning chocolate eyes, so attentive and aware.
He finally let's go of your hand, relief filling him. He nods, feeling much too shy to speak.
You return the smile and walk by him. As you walk to the main doors, you turn and wave goodbye, and he is already looking at you. You see his lips form a small grin and wave back subtly.
『★』
"Today was so boring," you huff out to Simom as he sits in the passenger. He sits too still, scared to make the wrong move in case you would call off this whole thing.
You find it funny he didn't respond. So you ask a question as you turn out of the car park and drive to your house, which is fifteen minutes away. "How was your day?"
He takes a few moments to reply, "good," his deep voice speaks. You wait for him to elaborate but he doesn't. The truth his, his day has been terrible but his mood is ecstatic (on the inside) about being with you.
Fifteen whole minutes, he had to sit there and pretend he didn't care. Staying silent like a complete douchbag. The smell of your perfume, your pretty outfit - a black jumper, faded blue jeans, Converse, pretty earrings, hair, and makeup. Just you simply being next to him made him hard, his mind running wild.
No, no, no, no. He needs to respect you. He's 17, not a little boy. He is a virgin after all, you definitely were not. The amount of stupid boys that took your attention will never deserve you in all the lifetimes. He's stronger, more respectful, just so, so much better for you. He noticed your smile was strained and he wanted to punch every asshole that made you like that. He covers his crotch with his hands, hoping you don't notice his hand placement.
He's so wrapped up in his own thoughts that you opening your car door and exiting snaps him out of it. He ushers out, slinging his bag over his shoulder as he takes in your families property. A simple, modern but classy home. Adorable. His gaze quickly returns to you, pausing as he sees your looking at him already.
"You work out?" You question, noticing he's wearing a black sleeved long sleeved gym shirt. He wore it just for you. It shows off his muscles perfectly.
"Six days a week," he speaks, trying to show off a little. Douche, again. But you smile and he smiles back.
"I do pilates sometimes," you reply, walking up to your front door. Pilates, Simon thinks of you doing the workout, so feminine and simple.
You both enter and you close the door behind you both. "Would you like a drink?" You ask innocently, looking up at him. You knew you were standing too close.
He swallows thickly, his gaze glancing down to your lips for a sweet second. He got even harder. For fuck sake, Simon. Answer the damned question! "Water would be nice, thanks."
You nod. "My room is upstairs, down the hall to the right," you speak, turning and walking to the kitchen.
He stands there silent for a few moments, watching your body sway. He shakes his head. Stop it now, he thinks. He walks up the stairs as he takes in everything about his small journey. At the end of the hallway, there's a picture of younger you.
He always knew you were an only child, makes sense how much you're put together with your parents attention focused on one child. He can't help but smile, seeing how cute you are. You must've been around 5 or 6 he's guessing, your eyes still the same sweetness.
He enters your room and sits on the edge of your bed, looking around once again. Clean, tidy, and... pink. Lots of light pink and white everywhere. Now he knows what your favourite colours are. Bingo.
He hears your soft footsteps coming up. He takes a quick breath, needing to calm his nerves desperately. Just your presence has him all giddy. You enter the room and close the door behind you.
"Here you are," you talk softly, handing him his water. You sit further up on your bed so you're in the middle of it. He thinks for a moment, copying you timidly. You face him. "I hope you like popcorn."
He nods, looking down, noticing you have a bowl of popcorn. Now he knows your favourite snack. Bingo, again!
You relax for a little while, scrolling on your phone as you chew on some popcorn while Simon takes sips of his drink here and there.
You come off your phone and hear your mother coming into your room. You have no time to prepare yourself or to even warn Simon, but he's already looking at her.
"Hi sweet girl!" Your mother exclaims happily, entering the room, hands on her hips. "How was school-" she cuts herself off, finally noticing Simon. She grins. "And who is this handsome boy?"
"Mom!" You scold, stepping off your bed, ready to usher her out, but she pulls you into a hug, kissing your cheek. You turn back at Simon, and he's gazing with a gentle expression, happy to see you and your mother's bond. "His name is Simon," you respond, pulling out of the hug.
Simon feels a slight blush form on his cheeks, shy once more. Your mom stops gazing at him too fondly for your liking and whispers in your ear, "he's a sweet one, I can tell."
You smile at her and glance back at Simon. "He's helping me with Math," you reveal.
Your mother's face brightens. "That's amazing, honey! Anyways, I'll leave you two to it, don't forget to lock the door-"
"Mom," you scold firmly this time. You love her dearly and you know she can tell that you like Simon.
She winks at you and leaves. You close the door and lock it. Simons muscles tense. You locked it? He doesn't want to think any further but he can see a blush on your face too.
『★』
Two hours. Two whole hours, Simon has spent one on one, simply inches away from each other. He easily covers his straining cock by having the popcorn bowl in front of it. He holds back jolts when you reach your hand for a snack.
You spent half the time looking at him and the other half wondering how his voice is so matured and dreamy. You did all the questions from your homework book and you played dumb on a few so he could lean in and explain it.
Simon grew comfortable in your presence. You are warm, soft and gentle. Everything he loves is you.
The thing he didn't expect at all was when you kissed him. You fucking kissed him. You and him! Kissing! He was explaining the most boring equation of all, leaning in more close, taking the pencil from your hand, your hands brushing together. He talks and continues talking when you catch gazes, noses nearly touching.
He wasn't sure whether Math turned you on? Or having someone tell you what to do? He was completely at loss, but once your lips touched his, the gates of heaven opened. You tasted of strawberries, sweet and addictive.
It was such a brief kiss, lasting a few seconds at most. His jaw goes slack afterwards. It was just a kiss, you don't want anything else. Maybe your thanking him for helping you? Both your hands stayed down at your lap, same with his. He's afraid if he touched you, he would never let go.
Should he confess? You've been staring dumbly at each other for about 30 seconds now.
"You're getting the hang of everything," he whispered smoothly. You sigh, feeling yourself growing wet. He was so good-looking and kind, too kind. He was huge, height and muscle wise, but his hands were so gentle.
In the moment, you place the popcorn on your beside table and climb on his lap. His eyes blow wide open as you take his face and lock your lips together once more. He moans into the kiss, making you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him even closer.
He opens his legs, hands hesitantly holding onto your waist. Should he push you away or hold you closer? You deserved so much better than him. He's never kissed anyone before, and he's probably doing horrible. But he picks option two, he pulls you closer, fingertips pawing at your waist. He was right, warm, and soft.
You tilt your head, deepening the kiss, poking your tongue into his mouth, and he let's you, opening his lips, getting drunk off your taste. You sigh into the kiss. He's really good. You wonder how many girls he's been with, jealousy plaguing your mind.
You grind down on him, hips moving back and forth, needy to calm down your pulsing clit. He was rock solid. You swallow up his strangled moan, hips bucking up into yours like a pathetic mess.
Your hands move behind you, taking his hands and placing them on your asscheeks. He squeezes, becoming lost in everything you're doing. He wants to be in your mind, what are you thinking right now?
He pulls away and you look at him confused. His expression was pure pleasure. "Shit, no- fuck-" he groans, pressing his forehead against your shoulder.
"What's wrong?" You speak softly, stroking his hair. Due to you leaning more down, your clothed pussy was right against him. He felt his stomach tighten, pleasure rippling through his body. Don't cum, don't you fucking dare, Simon. If you speak once more with that honey voice of yours he's done for.
"Simon?" You whisper, hearing his breathing come out in quick pants. He whines into your shoulder, and you stare at your wall, completely confused. He wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you down onto him as he jerks his hips up a few times, riding out his pleasure.
"Are you..." you pause, thinking about the situation. You saw he was hard, it was obvious with the grey sweatpants he was wearing. But did he seriously just cum under a minute of kissing?
You wait until his breathing goes normal, his body relaxing. You try to get up off him, but he holds onto you tightly.
"I'm sorry," he speaks, the most embarrassed he's ever been. He's made you uncomfortable. He knows it. A disgusting pervert, that's what he is. He pulls his head from your neck, missing the smell of you. He looks up at you half-lidded.
Your hands stroke his cheeks. You grin. "Did you cum?" You speak gently.
He swallows, wanting to look away, blushing furiously. "...yes."
"Don't think you weren't so sneaky with the popcorn bowl," you respond, laughing as you watch his reaction to you catching him out.
He groans, resting his head against yours. He's dreading at the thought of letting you go. The prettiest, sweetest girl ever. So soft and warm, he thinks, sighing.
You laugh, making his head snap up at the sound. "Thank you."
He wants to throw himself off a cliff. He said that out loud. For the love of-
"I take care if my skin," you respond, cupping his face, "all over."
He feels himself grow hard again and that's when he can't be close to you anymore. Crossing boundaries is something he doesn't do, especially around you.
You yelp as he lifts you off him, not a muscle straining, carrying you like your as light as a feather. He places you on the bed and he stands up, covering the dark patch on the crotch of his sweatpants.
You giggle, covering your mouth. "I can give you a t-shirt of mine to cover up."
He nods. "Thanks."
You get up, grabbing a random t-shirt and handing it to him. You gaze up at him, tilting your head. He didn't understand how you were looking at him so happily, he was an asshole to you and was disrespectful-
"Would you like a ride?" You question.
He allows his eyes to admire you for a while before responding. "It's okay, my house is just five minutes away."
"It is?" You question, your smile widening.
He swallows. Damn you, you're teasing him. "See you tomorrow," he grumbles, walking to your door.
"Wait!" You exclaim, grabbing his book bag and handing it to him. You lean up, holding the back of his neck, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek.
His right hand itches forward to hold you, but he stops himself. No, you've already taken enough from her. What have you given her? The fucking creeps.
He simply nods, keeping his feelings to himself and walks down the hall. It takes every cell in his body to not look back at your face. He can feel your gaze trailing on him.
"Thanks for letting me stay," he thanks your mother, giving her a nod. But she squeals, hugging him close.
"My little love likes you, I can tell," she speaks hushed, not wanting you to hear. Don't give him hope, don't. His mind still races, even your mom can see it, your gaze with more shine as you look at Simon.
He nods again, brain running a million miles an hour to even form a sentence. He walks away from the kitchen and leaves through the door. He closes it behind him and walks down the drive.
He waits until he's completely off the property before grinning and laughing, all while holding your t-shirt to his crotch. The street is quiet, not a soul around. He walks away, an extra leap in his step, happiness fulfilling him.
All in one day, you met up with him, you drove him to your house, you studied in your room, you kissed and he... he cringed hard, not wanting to think about it. You had him wrapped around your finger. He keeps smiling, though. Next Thursday, he'll be with you again.
『★』
EEEEK SO CUTE!!
Guys, Simon is NOT a perv!! I just wanted to include his conflicted thoughts because he loves her so much and doesn't want to make her uncomfortable 🤧. I'm not sure how many parts I'm hoping on doing, mayyyyybe 4... or 5... 😙. For you smut girlies, yes, there WILL be smut in upcoming parts and I hope my writing will be up to your expectations. Have a lovely day💗
Also!! Please note I am not trying to sexualise the characters at all, they will be turning 18 soon and it isn't a shock to anyone that they are doing these kinds of this at 17🤭
#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley#ghost x reader#call of duty#simon ghost riley x reader#call of duty x reader#cod x reader#ghost cod#ghost#simon riley#simon riley x you#fluff#new series#cute#konigsluvr
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