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rynwritesreid · 1 month

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Idea for fic: enemies to lovers Dom older Spencer and f reader with age gap can’t stand eachother at work and then away on a case they get paired up to be in a room and there’s one bed anyways reader goes and showers and comes out wearing nothing but her bra and panties since she left her tank top the bed and Spencer is shocked and teases her all night and thennnnn rest is history😏

A/N: has this been sat in my inbox for over 3 months? Yes. I hope this makes up for the wait, sorry it tool awhile :( but I did see it when it was first asked, but I’ve been dealing with a lot in the past few months, and I’ve been dealing with some writers block. But I hope you guys enjoy it :)

Summary: Basically what ANON asked for. Spencer and reader hate each other, but Emily has a plan that could resolve all the issues or make them worse.

Content: Fem!reader. Dom!Reid/Sub!reader. Use of Y/N. Spanking. Degradation kink. Praise Kink. Power imbalance kink (kind off). Use of sir, slut, good girl and sweetheart. PinV/creampie. No mentions of contraception. No mentions of aftercare.

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You and Spencer hated each other. Maybe it’s because Spencer felt genuine competition from you, or maybe it was because you seemed to effortlessly outshine him in everything you did. And well you hated him, because every time Spencer walked into a room, he carried with him an air of superiority that grated against your nerves. You could see the jealousy in his eyes whenever someone praised your work or complimented your achievements.

Everyone had grown tired of the way you both acted around here. Emily would often call you both into her office to yell, “You are two of the best agents. Two brilliant minds. And yet no one can stand to be in the same room as you two.”

You both sat in Emily's office, the tension thick between you. Spencer shifted uncomfortably in his seat, avoiding eye contact with you as Emily’s words hung heavily in the air. You couldn't deny the truth in Emily's words - your rivalry with Spencer had reached a breaking point, affecting not only your own work but the entire team dynamic.

Emily heaved a sigh, running a hand through her hair before continuing, "This behaviour ends now. I'm not going to tolerate this any longer. I need you two to figure out a way to work together, or I will have no choice but to reassign one of you."

“Oh, my god. Reid, do you ever shut up?” you muttered under your breath, unable to hide your irritation at Spencer's endless rambling.

Spencer shot you a glare, his frustration evident in the way his jaw tensed. "At least I have something worthwhile to say, unlike you," he retorted, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. "Oh, please. Your so-called facts and statistics don't mean anything in the field. It's called real-life experience, something you clearly lack."

“Lacking real-life experience? Really?” Spencer paused, his voice fuelled with anger “I am older than you, and I have experienced things you wouldn’t even believe.”

Spencer's outburst surprised you, the raw emotion in his voice catching you off guard.

“Whatever you say, Dr Reid. From now on I’ll just worship the ground you walk on, shall I?” you retorted, trying to mask your unease with a casual tone. Inside, you felt a twinge of admiration for his ability to get under your skin so easily.

Emily glared at you both from across the room, she knew she had to put an end to this, but she wasn’t sure how she was going to do that.

Spencer's nostrils flared with indignation at your remark, his eyes flashing with a mixture of hurt and frustration. He opened his mouth to respond, but before he could utter a word, Emily's stern voice cut through the tension like a knife.

"That's enough!" Emily's command was sharp, her gaze piercing. "I've had it with this childish bickering between you two. This behaviour is unprofessional and completely unacceptable."

You both fell silent under Emily's unwavering stare, guilt creeping into your conscience as her words echoed in the room. The weight of her disappointment hung heavy in the air, suffocating the animosity between you and Spencer.

"I don't care who started it or whose ego is hurt more," Emily continued, her tone firm. "What I care about is that you two find a way to work together effectively. The team's safety and success depend on it."

Emily was sick and tired of how the both of you acted, and she knew she needed to act fast. She didn’t want to lose either of you, but she also couldn’t let things carry on. So, she devised a plan, one that could go horribly wrong or one that could go perfectly.

“Hey, everybody.” Emily’s voice echoed through the jet, “the hotel we are staying at doesn’t have enough rooms for us all to have our own.” She paused for a brief second, she didn’t want anyone to catch on to her, “so, Rossi and I will have our own room. Tara and JJ, you’ll share, Luke and Matt you’ll share and erm… Y/N and Reid you guys will also be sharing.”

You exchanged a wary glance with Spencer as Emily assigned you to share a room. “Emily, I’m sorry. But what is this? You expect me to share a room with Reid? Also assigning us rooms, what are we like thirteen or something?” you scoffed, the incredulity evident in your voice. Spencer's expression mirrored your own disbelief, his eyes widening in surprise at Emily's unexpected announcement.

Emily raised an eyebrow at your protest, her gaze unwavering. "Yes, I expect you two to share a room. It's high time you both learn to work together and put your differences aside. Consider this a team-building exercise," she stated firmly, leaving no room for argument.

You opened your mouth to protest further, but Emily's steely glare silenced any objections before they could form.

“Seriously, one bed. Is she serious. I hate her, just as much as I hate you.” you spat out, glaring at Spencer as you both entered the hotel room assigned to you. The tension between you was palpable, suffocating the space as you stood on opposite sides of the room. The silence hung heavy in the air, broken only by the sound of Spencer's exasperated sigh.

"Believe me, the feeling is mutual," Spencer shot back, his tone laced with irritation as he surveyed the small room. The single queen-sized bed in the centre of the room seemed to mock your predicament, a constant reminder of the forced proximity between you.

“Because, unlike you, I’m nice. You can have the bed, as long as I can shower first.” You retorted, determined not to back down in this battle of wills. Spencer's jaw clenched at your words, a muscle ticking in his temple as he fought to keep his composure.

"Fine. Just make it quick," Spencer replied through gritted teeth, his pride wounded by the concession.

Before you headed towards the shower, you started to unpack, you hated keeping everything in your bag when you were in the hotel room. Once, you had finished you grabbed your essentials and headed towards the bathroom without so much as muttering a word to Spencer.

Spencer watched as you disappeared into the bathroom, the click of the door echoing in the tense silence of the room. Alone now, he took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions swirling inside him. The mere thought of sharing a room with you made his skin crawl, but he knew Emily's intentions were well-meaning, if not a little misguided.

The rush of the warm water against your skin did little to soothe the simmering frustration that lingered within you. As the steam filled the bathroom, you tried to shake off the tension that had built up between you and Spencer. But every time you closed your eyes, his infuriating presence seemed to seep through the cracks of your composure.

“Shit. Shit. Shit.” As you looked at the pile of clothes you had in the bathroom, you realised you hadn’t brought in your PJs, and all you had was a pair of panties and a bra. You were too embarrassed to ask Spencer to bring you the rest of your clothes.

You hesitated for a moment, weighing your options, but you weren’t going to be admitting defeat anytime soon, and maybe some part of you wanted to flaunt to Spencer something he could never have.

You dried yourself off and stepped out of the bathroom in just your underwear. Spencer’s eyes widened in disbelief as you emerged from the bathroom clad only in your underwear, the audacity of your actions catching him off guard. His cheeks flushed with a deep crimson hue, his gaze darting away as if to shield himself from the unexpected sight before him.

“Are you kidding me right now?” Spencer’s voice wavered slightly, a mix of shock and embarrassment colouring his tone. He struggled to maintain eye contact, opting instead to focus on a random spot on the wall.

You couldn’t help but smirk at his discomfort, a sense of satisfaction blooming within you at having turned the tables on Spencer for once. The power shift in the room was palpable, the tension crackling between you in a different way now.

“Just grabbing my clothes,” you stated nonchalantly, making no move to cover up as you retrieved your pyjamas. “Do you like what you see, Spencer?”

Spencer's cheeks burned hotter at your teasing words, his jaw clenching in a mixture of embarrassment and frustration. He struggled to find the right response, his mind racing to come up with a comeback that would regain the upper hand in this unexpected exchange.

"Very funny," Spencer finally managed to choke out, his tone strained as he averted his gaze, refusing to give you the satisfaction of seeing how flustered you had made him.

“You know the way you’re acting right now, Y/N, isn’t of someone who hates me.” Spencer teased through gritted teeth, his attempt at levity falling flat in the charged atmosphere of the room. Your smirk faltered for a split second at his remark, a flicker of something unidentifiable crossing your features before you regained your composure, your mask slipping back into place.

"Let's get one thing straight, Spencer," you retorted, your tone firm as you met his gaze head-on. "Just because I'm not actively trying to strangle you right now doesn't mean I don't still think you're insufferable." The underlying tension between you simmered beneath the surface, waiting to reignite at the slightest provocation.

Spencer raised an eyebrow at your response, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips despite himself. “Or you’re not actively strangling me, because you’d rather I’d be doing that to you.” Spencer paused, the words hanging in the charged air between you. His attempt at humour fell flat, the gravity of the situation pulling at the corners of his smile.

“What? No. What?” It was your turn to be embarrassed now as your cheeks flushed a deep shade of red at Spencer's unexpected remark.

“Oh, so I’m right. You do like the idea of me choking you.” Spencer paused, his eyes widening in realization at the slip of his words. The room seemed to hold its breath, the tension between you both reaching a new peak as his inadvertent confession hung in the air, heavy and loaded with unspoken implications.

You swallowed hard, trying to mask the sudden rush of emotions that threatened to overwhelm you. Spencer's gaze bore into yours, searching for a reaction, for any sign of the impact his words had made. And in that charged moment, something shifted between you, an invisible thread pulling you closer even as you both stood at opposite ends of the room.

“Spencer, I…” your voice wavered, uncertainty creeping into your tone as you struggled to find the right words to respond. The weight of his words hung heavy between you, begging for acknowledgement, for resolution.

“It’s okay, you don’t need to say anything. Brats like you always act out when they are attracted to someone.” Spencer paused, his gaze softening as he took a step closer to you. The air between you crackled with a newfound vulnerability, baring emotions that had long been buried beneath layers of animosity and pride.

“Spencer, you have a very active imagination. I have, erm, I have never thought of you like that.” You stumbled over your words, the admission weighing heavily on your conscience. Spencer's expression softened at your response, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his eyes as he processed your words.

“I do not believe that for one second, sweetheart.” Spencer 's voice was barely above a whisper, his words laced with a raw honesty that left no room for doubt. The tension in the room had shifted once again, morphing into a charged undercurrent that pulsed between you, drawing you closer in a dance as old as time.

In one swift motion, Spencer seemed to have place you on top of his lap, your ass up in the air, and the palm of his hand striking against your backside.

Your breath hitched at the unexpected contact, a sharp gasp escaping your lips as Spencer's touch sent a jolt of electricity through you. The sting of his hand against your skin reverberated through your body, igniting a primal fire that had long been smouldering beneath the surface.

“Now, you’re going to be a good girl, and say thank you after every time I spank you.” Spencer paused, his voice low and commanding as he laid down the rules of their newfound dynamic. Your head spun with a mixture of confusion and a strange exhilaration at the turn of events, the rush of adrenaline heightening your senses.

“Yes, sir.” You replied, your voice barely above a whisper as you complied with Spencer's demand, the unfamiliar title sending a thrill down your spine. Each strike of his hand against your skin sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through you, a heady mix of pain and desire intertwining in a dangerous dance.

“Are you sorry for been a brat? For constantly picking fights with me over nothing? For making Emily do this, just so I can use you like the slut you are.” Spencer paused; his voice laced with a deliberate edge as he pushed the boundaries of your newfound dynamic. Your breath caught in your throat at his words, a surge of conflicting emotions crashing over you. The raw honesty in Spencer's tone stripped away the layers of pretence between you, exposing the raw desire that simmered beneath the surface.

“Yes, sir, I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice trembling with a mix of submission and defiance.

Spencer’s hand moved over your panties, so he could feel the ever-growing wet patch. “Do you like that? You like calling me sir, and me calling you a slut. You know for the type of brat you are out in the office or in the field, you break a lot easier than expected.”

Your breath caught in your throat as Spencer's words sent a surge of conflicting emotions coursing through you. The intensity of the moment hung heavy in the air, the boundaries between desire and shame blurring as his touch ignited a fire within you that burned hotter with each passing second.

“Yes, sir.” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath as you surrendered to the overwhelming tide of sensations that pulsed through your body. The weight of his hand against your skin, the pressure of his touch against your most intimate places, all served to push you to the brink of a precipice you had never dared to explore before.

“Good girl, now stand up and take off your bra and panties.” Spencer demanded, his voice firm and authoritative. You hesitated for a moment, your heart pounding in your chest as you grappled with the new dynamic unfolding between you. But you knew that you wanted this, needed this, and so you did as he commanded.

With trembling hands, you unclasped your bra and let it fall to the floor. Then, you stepped out of your panties, your legs feeling unsteady as you stood there before him, naked and exposed. The air between you was thick with desire, and you could feel Spencer's gaze raking over your body, devouring every inch of you.

"Now, bend over the table," he commanded, his voice rough with desire. You did as he said, your hands gripping the edge of the table as you lowered your body, presenting yourself to him. The cool surface of the table against your skin was a stark contrast to the heat that was building inside you. You could feel the moisture between your legs as it dripped down your thighs, a testament to the arousal that was consuming you.

Spencer stepped closer to you, his cock hard and pulsating with need. He ran his fingers through your hair, tangling them in the strands as he pulled your head back, his gaze never wavering from your exposed ass.

"You're such a naughty little slut, aren't you?" he growled, his lips brushing against your ear. "You know you want this, don't you? You've been craving my cock since the first day we met."

You could only nod in response, your body trembling with anticipation as his erection pressed against your wet sex.

"Good," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. "Because I've been waiting for this moment ever since I saw you, too."

With one swift movement, he positioned himself at your entrance and thrust inside you in one smooth motion. Your eyes widened at the sudden invasion, the pleasure and pain intermingling in a way that was unlike anything you had ever experienced before.

You gasped, arching your back as his cock filled you completely. Spencer's hands gripped your hips, holding you in place as he began to move within you. His thrusts were rhythmic and powerful, filling you to the brim with each movement.

Your moans filled the room as Spencer's cock slid in and out of you, every thrust bringing you closer to the edge. Your body was on fire, every nerve ending tingling with pleasure as he fucked you hard and rough. Your mind was a blur of mixed emotions, guilt mingling with desire as you surrendered to the animalistic lust that was consuming you.

You could feel his hips slapping against your ass with each thrust, the sound of skin on skin echoing in the room. Your legs were trembling with each movement, your body submitting to his every command.

"You feel so good, baby," he groaned, his voice thick with desire. "So tight and wet. Just the way I always imagined you would be."

His words sent a rush of pleasure through you, making you clench around his cock. Spencer thrust deeper, his hips moving in a relentless rhythm that had you gasping for breath.

"Tell me you want me, baby," he growled, his voice harsh with need. "Tell me how much you love my cock inside you."

You couldn't form words, your mind lost in the haze of pleasure and desire. All you could do was cry out and arch your back, begging for more.

"Please, please, please," you moaned, your voice ragged with need. "More, oh please, more."

Spencer's smile was wicked, his eyes dark and full of lust. "Tell me you want me, baby," he demanded, holding your hips tight as he thrust into you.

"I want you, oh, I want you so fucking much!" you cried out, your body writhing beneath him. Your nails dug into the edge of the table, your legs trembling as you pushed back against him, taking him deeper inside you.

His thrusts became harder, faster, each one a razor's edge of pleasure and pain. You could feel his fingers digging into your hips, his breath hot against your skin as he possessed you completely.

"Tell me, slut," he growled, his voice rough with desire. "Tell me you're mine, and that you'll do anything I say."

You hesitated for a moment, your heart pounding in your chest as you grappled with the new dynamic unfolding between you. But you knew that you wanted this, needed this, and so you did as he commanded.

"I'm yours, sir," you whispered, your voice barely above a breath as you surrendered to the power, he held over you. "I'll do anything you say."

Spencer's eyes widened at your submission, a sense of triumph and desire flooding his entire being. He thrusted deeper into you, his cock aching to be buried inside you even further.

Your moans grew louder, your body shaking with every thrust as he took control of you. The power he wielded over you sent ripples of ecstasy through your entire being, your mind hazy with pleasure.

"That's it, baby, let me hear you," he growled, his voice rough with desire. "Tell me how much you love taking my cock, how much you love feeling me inside you."

You couldn't form words, your breaths coming out in short, sharp gasps. Your fingernails left marks on the edge of the table, your body writhing under his assault.

"Mmm, that's it, tell me baby," he urged, his hips moving in a relay and powerful stroke. "Tell me how much you love my cock inside you, how much you need it."

You could only whimper in response, your body trembling with each thrust. Your moans filled the room, and your entire body was on fire with pleasure and desire.

"Say it, baby," he demanded, his voice growing rough with need. "Say you love my cock inside you."

"I-I love your cock inside me," you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper. "I need you, please don't stop."

Spencer's eyes darkened at your plea, his grip on your hips tightening as he thrust into you harder. Your moans filled the room, your body arching and begging for more. You could feel the tension building, the wave of pleasure and desire crashing over you.

"That's it, baby," he growled, his voice thick with lust. "Come for me, let go of all that pleasure and surrender to me completely."

Your body shuddered, your moans growing louder as the orgasm overwhelmed you. Your pussy clenched around his cock, the sensation sending shivers of pleasure through Spencer's entire being.

He continued to thrust, his cock sliding in and out of you in a relentless rhythm. Your moans grew louder, your body trembling with each movement.

You could tell Spencer wasn’t far off from his own release, the muscles in his abdomen tightening with every thrust.

The feeling of him inside you was indescribable, the intensity of your orgasm mixing with the pleasure of him taking you so roughly. You could feel him hardening even more, his cock pulsating with need as he fucked you deeper and faster.

"I'm gonna cum, baby," he growled, his eyes locked on yours. "I'm going to fill you up with my cum."

Your mind was a blur of thoughts and emotions, pleasure, and lust mingling with the desire to please him. You wanted him to take you, to possess you completely.

"Yes, sir, fill me up," you whispered, your voice barely above a whisper. "I want to feel you cum inside me."

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ghostofhyuck · 27 days

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NCT Dream and doing the ranking kisses trend with them!

AN: I have to search this trend, but here's the link if anyone's curious. But I just placed here what's their first rank and their reaction during the whole video! (also they're the receiving ends of the kisses!)

Mark Lee

The moment the spiderman kiss appeared and you did it to him even though the position was a bit awkward, Mark didn't think twice of putting it on number one! He got to live up to his spidermark persona, so even though it was just a short smack, he thinks that it was cute. He'll be smiling during the whole video too! He gets a lot of kisses from you, also when the cheek kiss appear, he turned his head so your lips crashed into each other. You playfully slapped him while he's smiling widely.

Huang Renjun

Oh this is a cute video. Probably if you posted this video of you and Renjun doing this trend, a lot of single people will be so jealous of you two. Renjun would be sitting there with puppy eyes as he waits for your kisses before he ranks it. He smiles when you do so then ranks the kisses! He'll place the "top of the head" kiss as his number one and when you ask him why, he said that he loves doing it to you, and when you did it to him, he realized that the gesture was cute and has a warm feeling! <3

Lee Jeno

Will have that (.◜◡◝) face throughout the whole video. SO no one really knows whether he likes it or not (he loves all of it don't worry.) But once you two did the nose kiss, he places it as his number. He'll scrunch his nose after and thinks that the gesture is intimate but at the same time wholesome! Once he ranks all of the kisses, he tells you that you do the nose kiss one more time! You two did, then he kisses your nose quickly! and then he boops your nose after, leaving you frozen while he's all giggly beside you :<

Lee Donghyuck

French kiss went first and Haechan pulled you away from the camera, three seconds shortly he returns and places the french kiss as number one. He's smug about it while you're a blushing mess because you didn't know that it'll come first. The rest of the ranking went naturally with him anticipating on what will come next and what type of kiss will you give him! Probably has kiss on the forehead as second place because he thinks that the gesture is wholesome and he likes how you brushed off his hair to give him a kiss!

Na Jaemin

Oh he's a curious cat about the ranking. It starts off wholesome like hand kiss or cheek kisses and Jaemin will be smiling widely when you give him a kiss! I feel like a two or three times he tried to do the same to you, so when the neck kisses came last (and coincidentally, rank 1 is the only spot left.) he gives you a smirk while you roll your eyes. You kiss his neck and then he places it on top without any hesitation! As soon as the video ends, he threw your phone away and attacks you with kisses!

Zhong Chenle

Chenle would love to do the trend with you! He thinks that it's an opportunity for you to know his references. (Definitely didn't let you kiss his foot when foot kiss appeared, he ranked it last too.) But when the lips kiss came in, and you cup his cheeks and gives him a quick smack, you can see how his eyes went wide! He picks it as his first place! Chenle thinks that the kiss on the lips will always be the most superior out of all the kisses! Probably steals a kiss from you one more time before placing it at first place.

Park Jisung

Oh this shy bub would be a blushing mess throughout the video. He's just not used to taking a video while you two are kissing, (you promised him that you're not going to post the video.) but despite being flustered, he took the ranking seriously. Everytime you kiss him, he'll think about it for a second or three. I feel like Jisung likes the cheek kiss the most! It's simple and wholesome, and probably suits your dynamic together. Once he ranks all the kisses, he taps his cheeks, asking for another cheek kiss!

#nct dream #nct imagines #nct dream fic #nct fic #nct x reader #nct #nct dream imagine #nct scenarios #nct fluff #nct dream reactions #nct drabbles #nct dream imagines #nct mark #nct jeno #nct renjun #nct jaemin #nct haechan #nct chenle #nct jisung

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mlmshipbracket · 2 months

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ROUND 6: POLL #1 - Semifinals

ROUND 6 POLLS [HERE]

PROPAGANDA BELOW

Siffrin/Isabeau:

I've put mid paragraph spoilers in || brackets || and paragraphs of spoilers make "spoilers ->"

I should mention that them having romantic feelings for each other is a partial spoiler?

What if. A silly little he/they guy. But! He's really messed up emotionally and mentally. Like. Constantly puts others first to his own detriment and calls himself manipulative kind of messed up. Also he's in a time loop. NOT a fun one. But! There's this jock in his party that he can joke with. And they looove making him smile! And! That jock is head over heels for our tiny hero. But! Neither of them can admit their feelings! ||Even if they know the feelings are mutual!!|| AND THE JOCK DOESN'T KNOW HE'S IN A TIME LOOP!!! AND LITTLE GUY WON'T TELL HIM! CAUSE THEY DON'T WANT HIM TO WORRY!!

I love them sooo much! They are my favorite he/they x ||trans masc|| couple <3

Siffrin is soooo insecure and I'm 100% sure Isa could fix him if he wanted to. They love telling each other just the worst puns and jokes imaginable.

[SPOILERS] -> Isa was a big nerd before he decided he wanted to be a huge jock and now he wants to design clothes now that he saved his county (along side his other friends)

Siff is just a little guy (literally)(he is short) who loves the stars abs doesn't remember a lot about his past. He constantly worries if he's being enough for the rest of his companions and always tries his best to make sure they're happy. He has soooo much trouble seeing value in himself and prioritizing his own needs and it makes me soooo sad :( he deserves to have someone like Isa.

[SPOILERS] -> Siff knows that Isa wants to confess after thier battle w the bbeg, but siff can't get Ida to say it no matter what they try :(

Eustass Kid/Killer:

Propaganda by @chronoirrai [HERE]

Friends/lovers since childhood, would kill and die for each other. [SPOILERS for those who have not watched/read the Wano arc yet] Killer ate a defective SMILE fruit to safe Kid, making him unable to swim and show any other emotion than laughing (and gains him nothing), and he also knew exactly where to cut off Hawkins' arm so he wouldn't harm Kid (because he knows his body so well). Kid promises to kill whoever makes fun of his partner, and lets himself be recaptured after escaping prison because Killer had gotten himself captured.

If this ain't love idk what is.

The captain/right-hand man dynamic. They call each other aibou (partner). If your partner doesn't tell you that he will send whoever laughs at you to hell then he is not worth it. Killer hates his own laugh to the point that he stopped laughing out loud and started wearing a mask. But then he was forced to eat a defective devil fruit (because they promised he could see Kidd if he did) so he's been cursed to only laugh no matter what emotion he's trying to express. That's why Kidd said that, it's so full of weight for someone like Killer. And when Kidd was imprisoned and he worked so hard to escape, but as soon as he saw Killer being pulled into the same prison he just broke out from mans did not hesitate for even a second to go right back in.

#isat siffrin #isat isabeau #siffrin/isabeau #isafrin #in stars and time #eustass kid #killer one piece #eustass kid/killer #kidkiller #one piece #tumblr poll #tumblr bracket #mlm ship #mlm ship poll #mlm ship bracket #mlm ship bracket tournament #mlm ship bracket 2024 #mlm ship bracket tournament 2024 #fourthr6

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harmoonix · 6 months

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Chill astro notes

🔶 People need to stop blaming one specific sign when they get cheated/hurt/etc.. in love, let's use Sag Venus for this example, a lot of people blame Sagittarius Venus for being "cheaters" but truly that doesn't mean anything, because first you need to do a synastry chart instead of reading your partners chart. Synastry chart is at least 85% on the fault why some things don't work in a relationship astrologically talking.... Not the signs from their actual birth charts

🔶 - I personally love the dynamic of Venus in the 3rd/5th/7th/11th houses, because it shows how much love they hold for their freinds and how to share it together, for some of natives this aspect can also mean that you can have friends to lovers kind of thing or your lover can be your best friend

🔶 - I have a friend with Mars in the 6th house and he literally can't stay still. He always needs to do something, i guess the natives are full of energy and don't want to take a break..

🔶 - Capricorn Placements can end up to be workaholic, it's good to work if that gives you satisfaction, but most times a break is really needed because you're human after all

🔶 - I honestly believe that Saturn with Pisces Degrees 12°, 24° have it hard when it comes to sleeping time, they can either have problems with sleep either with not sleeping enough

🔶 - The time when you'll have your Saturn return, which happens at least 2 times in a human life, it happens to be your most challenging/transformative years of your life because it will be the year where you'll need a lot of patience to go over the test of Saturn

🔶 - I always think about how life must have been in the 1960's cus' Uranus was in Leo at that time (precisely in 1962), it must have been something totally taken out of control

🔶 - Neptune aspecting Juno asteroid (3) can end up to dream about their soulmate or future spouse, if you don't dream then probably you'll receive some signs from the universe that you'll met someone

🔶 - Moon in the 6th/8th/10th/12th house > In case no one told you, I hope you have it good and without any stress or bad thought, you'll win all your battles

🔶 - People with Lilith - Sun aspects could have been judged a lot in the past, but you need to stay like yourself no matter what because you don't have to change based on others opinion.

🔶 - On the other hand. Lilith harshly aspecting Moon don't give a single f about others opinion, you can say whatever they want and they would not care at all. Because they live for themselves

🔶 - Taurus Sun/Moon/Rising are actually very posesive, some of them can be more than Scorpios. But one thing about them is that they know how to hide it good enough so people don't observe that

🔶 - Aquarians claim to not get jealous easy, but you can see it on their face when they're jealous or possesive, or CLINGY they have it easier with their face expressions

🔶 - Nobody loves nature more than Earth suns, earth is their own heaven and special place, now you'll probably say "well they have the earth element!" It's actually because their love and humanitarian side to love the earth this much, makes them into this

🔶 - Aquarius Placements especially Sun/Moon/Rising they are not weird as people say, the thing is nowadays... it's popular to be like some celebrities so people forgot to be their true selves, Aquarius is the sign of difference, don't let people tell you otherwise

🔶 - If your 6th house ruler is badly aspected you can have complications with your health. For example if your 6H house ruler is Saturn or Pluto you can get sick easier than others

🔶 - I want to believe that Pluto - Moon aspects can learn a lot of things from their mother. To learn for her mistakes so they won't do the same thing again and again, which is a very good thing because less families will have generational curses to break, I mean... go girl break that curse

🔶 - Natives with South Node - Jupiter aspects may want to know more about their past. Because Jupiter wants to expand this curiosity about their past lives

🔶 - I feel like 4th house natives really really really like to give hugs to comfort others, and its truly something very sweet because nowadays the world turned into a dark stage and people forgot what kindness means

🔶 - All people get hurt when they're betrayed but for natives with the Sun or Moon in the 11th house may take it too deep and they cannot accept that they were betrayed.

🔶 - Pisces Sun/Moon/Rising/Venus love/like to watch a lot dramas with love, or is just me who saw that? I know so many people with those placements who like to watch love dramas

🔶 - 9th house is so less talked about and honestly is a very underrated house because is the house of luck and blessings.. yet people don't talk enough about it

🔶 - Neptune in the 8H/9H houses can get obsessed with crystals, and tarot too..they mostly adore witch things just like Neptune in those houses act like a little witch

🔶 - If you have placements/planets at 1° in your birth chart, you can change things on your own, because is the power of the magician tarot card who gives this energy

🔶 - Sag Placements love to hang out quite often, they're always for "let's go in this place" mostly because they're very curious souls who want to gain experience and memories

🔶 - If you have Vertex - Juno (3) in good aspects probably you're fated to met a good person who can change your life into better, it's actually sweet

🔶 - Gemini Rising/Gemini Sun/Gemini in the 5th house can get praised for their hands/ these natives are having really good looking hands and people appreciate that

🔶 - It's something I still study about but does it happen for Sun in Capricorn natives to have things like birth marks on their skin? Because Capricorn can rule over skin too and most people with Cap Sun that I know have marks on their skin (like a birth mark)

Check this out:

It shows what body parts all these signs rule over

🔶°🔶°🔶°🔶°🔶°🔶°🔶°🔶°🔶°🔶°🔶°🔶°🔶°

With all the love and light, yours truly ❤️🔶❤️

Harmoonix ❤️

#astrology #astro observations #birth chart #astro notes #astrology observations #placements #astro community #horoscope #ascendant #venus #astrology fyp #chill #chill aesthetic #fyp2023 #tumblr fyp

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uyuuma · 3 months

Text

“ I HOPE YOU KNOW I'M FADED ”

drunk!gojo x exgf!reader ღ MDNI.

❥ summary. you and your toxic ex, gojo, broke up months ago. yet you find his drunk ass outside your apartment door.

❥ warnings. nsfw, female anatomy, toxic ex, manipulative gojo, dub con, dacryphilia, use of the name 'daddy', alcohol mentioned, tw: toxic relationship dynamic, etc.

❥ a/n. okok this one i thought of while i was bored at work, hope y'all enjoyyyy. i had to resubmit this post bc it got taken down bruh lets hope it doesnt happen again (title was inspired from the song 'spotlight' by lil peep; it is encouraged to listen while reading :3)

❥ wc. 3.2k

Your life has been rather drama-free ever since you broke up with Satoru Gojo.

After the constant arguments and severe manipulation that he had put you through, you decided enough was enough and you told him to essentially fuck off.

But if you were being honest with yourself, you weren't fully over him yet. In fact, life may have been drama-free but it became so boring after that. In some kind of fucked up way, you kind of missed the rollercoaster of emotions he put you through.

That's just how things are you guess, prioritizing your peace over that man was the healthier decision in the long run. You blocked his number and all of his social media as well as ghosting all of your mutuals, like Suguru and Shoko. It was a tough decision but you were tired of them asking about you and Satoru. He's done enough damage to your life already.

It's been radio silence since then, wonderful peace and quiet for two whole months. You found yourself taking up old hobbies again, exercising regularly, and even talking to other men. Life was right back on track and you were on your way to properly healing.

Unfortunately, it wasn't enough because he still knew where you lived. You didn't really bank on the fact he would come banging on your door. You believed he would just move on, since he is Satoru Gojo after all. Any woman would be head over heels for the handsome man, even if he was toxic as fuck.

But no, god dammit it all, he is still stuck on you.

Loud banging could be heard on your apartment door. It scared the living daylights out of you when you shot up from beneath your covers. You thought that there was someone trying to break in or perhaps your building manager was trying to alert you to a fire. You immediately rolled out of bed and ran to the door.

That's when you heard that cursed voice.

"Open uppppp!" the voice slurred on the other side.

You groan an exasperated "Noooooo fuckkkk!" under your breath after realizing it's your ex.

"Baby please... I know you're in thereeee" He said in a joking manner.

You open the door a crack, not unhooking the chain lock. "Go away, I told you I never wanted to see you again." You said coldly. Your voice was also a tad raspy, as you had just woken up from a deep slumber.

"Baby don't be like that, let daddy in will you?" He purred through the crack of the door. You could tell he was under the influence of something and it caused you to roll your eyes.

"Fuck no, now leave before I call the cops." You threatened as you went to shut the door.

The door came to a halt with a loud 'THUD'. Satoru grabbed the chain lock with his fist and he held it open before you could shut it. You gasp and jolt back from the audacity that this guy had.

"No no no no no, you're not listening t'me. I wanna talk to you." He said as he tried to pull the chain off the door.

You knew he had the strength to do it too and you didn't feel like replacing it so you annoyedly invited him in.

"Christ, fine but only for a bit! Do you understand me?" You said sharply, unlocking the chain.

"Anything you want, mama." He said grinning, he swiped the door open wide to let his towering frame through the doorway.

You click your tongue in irritation as you quietly close the door behind him. "What do you want, Satoru? It is 3 in the fucking morning!" You whisper yelled.

"Shhhhshhhshh" He spat out at you, putting his long finger against your lips, hushing you. "I just missed you so much, hehe." He found it amusing you were getting angry and it only triggered you more.

"Don't touch me, you're not my boyfriend anymore." You said smacking his hand away from you.

"Says who?" He asks confusedly. He tilts his head to the side.

"Says me!" You said trying not to scream too loud and wake the neighbors.

"Pshhh nah ah!" He says as he smirks. "I say we just forgive each other and move on, huh?" He proposes the idea, with full confidence.

You let out a laugh in disbelief. "Each other? You prick, you're the one that manipulated me and used me! If anything you should be begging me for forgiveness! And you can start by leaving!" Your voice was starting to get louder, but you were beyond infuriated right now.

"What are y'talking about? Don't start with this crazy shit." He said with a twinge of irritation in his voice. He slouched a lot worse than usual, his hands stuffed into the pocket of his sweats. He was wearing that stupid compression shirt that would always make your head spin when you saw it.

He also reeked of alcohol. It was safe to say that the dude was drunk. It took a lot just to get him tipsy, so for him to be this drunk it must've meant he's been at it all night.

"Look baby, I just came from Sukuna's house party and it made me realized how much I missed youuu." he said, his eyes all glossy.

Oh? So, he decided to crawl back after drinking himself silly at some house party? This guy couldn't get anymore pathetic, you thought to yourself. "You stink of booze, get out of my apartment you bum." You said pointing out the door. "I don't need you ruining my life again."

"C'mon don't be like that princess, you know the only thing I'd ever ruin is your slutty little holes." He said, smirking. He grabbed your chin with his hand and brought you close to his face. You could smell the whiskey still hot on his breath.

You were so beyond done with this. "You're repulsive, do not talk about me like that." All of the emotions you had that you've suppressed came back and all at once. You could feel that all too familiar burning in your eyes and throat.

You went silent and smoothed over your hair with your hand, trying to soothe yourself. Do not let him make you cry again. You took a few deep breaths before continuing.

"Look I know you're fucked up, but you need to call an Uber and leave immediately." You said looking up into his eyes to show how serious you were being.

He just continued to give you this cocky smirk while tuning you out. He just won't fucking listen to you.

"Ok! Well here this shit is again! You never take me seriously! It's like I'm this big fucking joke to you!" You yelled out, letting your emotions start to swell inside your chest.

Tears began to spill from your eyes as months and months of frustrations started to unravel. You looked down and brought your sleeve to wipe your tears. "Well, I won't take it anymore! I-" Suddenly you found that your breath was suddenly snatched from your lungs, after looking back up at him.

Satoru was palming his hard-on while you were sobbing. He was getting off to your tears. The fucking bastard.

"Are you─!" You were cut off by Satoru's moans.

"Fuck, you are so sexy when you get all emotional like that. God, I just want to shut you up with my cock." He said eyes fixated on your face.

"You cannot be serious right now!" You've had enough of his shit, you shoved him, trying to get him out the door.

"Oooh playin' rough with me princess?" He doesn't budge from you trying to push him. "Aww, if only you weren't so weak." He says as he wraps his hand around your wrist and pulls it up. He yanks your hand above your head and watches you squirm.

He looks thoroughly amused and cracks a smile when you fight back.

"Aw I miss this, us arguing and fighting. It always gets my blood pumping." he said, shoving you to your knees.

You tried to fight where this was inevitably going to end up, but it was no use. Satoru was just too damn strong and too damn convincing.

He hisses as he frees his dick from his sweats. It bobs up and down from the sudden release. Your eyes follow it, mesmerized with how big it was. It's been a few months since you last saw it. You had so many conflicting thoughts racing through your head as you silently knelt on the floor below him.

"Suck." He commanded, holding his tip to your lips. His precum lubricated your soft lips, making you feel sticky already.

You shook your head and used your hands to push away from it using his thighs as leverage. You didn't want to give into him, not after everything.

"No fuck- c'mon baby just open wide." He cooed out to you. Even now he was deciding everything for you. He decided you were going to suck his dick and that's what you were going to do.

It was a struggle between you pushing away and him grabbing your hair and pushing your head down onto his cock. Between his groans in anticipation and your whines in protest, he became increasingly impatient.

"No no no, shhhshhh... that's a good girl." He hiccupped. Satoru successfully got your mouth to take his tip. He grunted and tilted his head back slightly, feeling you slowly but surely take his length.

"Oh fuck, I missed your mouth so much baby." He purred as he parted your hair out of your face.

You closed your eyes in defeat as tears began sliding down your cheeks. He held your head still with one hand gripping on your pony tail and pumped himself in and out of your mouth.

"Fuuuuck, no matter where I looked I couldn't find another girl who satisfied me like you do." He started to invade your throat with his length, making your esophagus become sore and your lungs burn from the lack of air.

You choked on his cock, saliva dripping down your chin and neck, as well as down his balls. Your fingernails dug deep into his thighs, trying to either push yourself off or for leverage. One of the two, you didn't know anymore. All you knew was that little warm sensation that built between your legs. Your body was betraying you, you were supposed to hate this man, to not let him abuse you anymore. But fuck, his cock hit all the right places in your tight throat. Your eyes begin to cross as you struggle to breathe.

"Shit, you swallow me so good. Mmm, tell me you want daddy to cum down your throat." He said fucking into your mouth, your lewd slurping sounds were very pleasing to his ears.

You let out a muffled moan in response, obviously you couldn't say anything but that was enough of an answer for him.

"Oh fuck, take my load." he ordered, his abs flexing as he came. He groaned as he painted your throat white with his seed. You could feel the hot, sticky fluid make its way down your throat as you swallowed it all.

More tears fell onto your cheeks. "Hate you, 'toru." you whined out, throat still raw from his dick forcing its way in.

Satoru gave you that cocky smile again and tapped his cock against your cheek as you pouted. "Still harddd." he sang. "Wanna be a doll f'me and get on all fours?" He said wiping the spit off your chin.

You were so disappointed in yourself. This man was forcing himself back into your life and all you could do was watch as it happened. You looked up at him and see that faded look in his eyes. They say that drunk words were sober thoughts, has he been wanting to do this for two months?

Despite everything, you did exactly as he said. You turned around and lowered yourself onto all fours. Truth is, your pussy was aching for him and it had been since you guys broke up. Those men couldn't satisfy you and neither could your dildo, at least not like how Satoru can. Perhaps this whole situation was inevitable.

You pull down your panties and shamefully spread your pussy out for him, showing how you were already wet and ready for him to stretch you out.

"Aww, baby you're already soaked. I haven't even touched you down there yet." He said kneeling down to take a closer look. He took his hand to grip your ass and moved his thumb to swipe a line against your cunt.

You shuddered from the satisfaction of finally being touched where you were aching. You could hear shuffling from behind you and felt a sudden wet, warmth swipe up and down on your clit.

You gasped and clasped your hand over your mouth in response to Satoru suddenly eating you out. How polite of him to at least warm you up.

There was something so feral about the way he ate you out. Perhaps it was the alcohol, but he was sloppily sucking on your clit making your legs shake from the pleasure. He began humming and moaning as his tongue entered you, pumping in and out. His fingernails were digging into the fat of your ass as he spread your cheeks nice and wide for him.

Your arms wanted to give out from under you, but the bastard chose to fuck you on the cold hardwood flooring in the foyer. So you struggled to hold your head up, as if that would protect your dignity.

Satoru parted his mouth from your now slick folds, spit dripping all over your floors. "Mmm, baby I missed tasting you." He said, lust dripping from his voice almost as much as the saliva down his chin. He wiped the drool and slick from his mouth and gave your ass a swift 'SMACK'. You yelped out from the sudden sting.

"You ready baby? This is my favorite part." He cooed into your ear as he rutted his erection against your pussy.

"Yes 'Toru, fuck me please." You whined out. You were already gone, you just wanted the sweet release of the growing knot in your tummy. It was far too late to fight back at this point, all you could think about was him rearranging your guts.

He didn't need to hear any other words of confirmation as he aligned his throbbing cock with your dripping cunt. He pushed the tip in and let a shaky moan out along with a hiss.

"Fuck, always so tight." He groaned while thrusting just the tip in and out of your hole. His hands were still gripping your ass at this time, but he moved his left hand to grip onto your shoulder, lowering you onto his cock.

You let out such sweet moans and whimpers as he watched your pretty cunt swallow him up. He was mesmerized, trying not to cum at the very sight of it. He gave a drawn out sigh in relief from feeling your gummy walls clamp onto him.

He repositioned his large hands to have a strong grip on your waist as he started to thrust in and out of you. It was a slow rhythm at first, nice and sensual like he was trying to massage your insides.

It drove you insane, feeling him drag in and out. He had your back arched, so you folded your arms and laid on them. You scraped the floors with your nails as you felt him start to smack his hips against your ass.

"Mmm... fuck Satoru..." you mewled out, shoulder blades pushing together as your back curved in.

"M'gonna ruin your little pussy." He said making his thrusts rougher. "Gonna punish you for leaving me." He grunted out through clenched teeth. He let out a breathy moan as he leaned over you, slamming his hips flush against your ass.

You let out a sharp squeal as he jackhammered your cervix at this new angle. This squeal pleased him so much that he chuckled and said, "Keep making those cute little sounds."

He caged you beneath him by putting all of his weight on his left arm, holding his hand steadily on the floor by your head. He took his right arm and roughly took your arms from beneath your head. He pinned them both behind your back as he relentlessly pounded into you. This way he could have complete control over your body.

Your face was now met with the cold floor. Your cheek was squished and your mouth agape, drooling from the mind-melting ecstasy. You were starting to see stars, eyes not being able to focus on a single thing. Not that you could see through your tears anyways. You felt your climax approaching rapidly, pussy clenching him uncontrollably.

He started to curse under his breath as his thrusts became more shaky and messy from the pressure. You could tell he was nearing his orgasm too.

"Fuck baby, cum on my cock. Wanna feel you squeeze me." He said, his words coming out super slurred. You couldn't see his expression but you could tell from his voice that he was not only drunk but also pussy-drunk.

Your hands clenched from behind your back and your whole body seized up as you reached your limit. "F-fuck m'gonna cum daddy!" You screeched out, forgetting it was four in the morning. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you gasped. Your whole body spasmed as you felt that sweet release you had been craving for months.

"Oh shit baby-" He cut himself off as he bit down on his lip. He hunched his entire body over you and his hands flew to grip onto your hips. "M'gonna fucking fill you so deep" He whimpered as he slammed your ass tightly against his pelvis. You could feel him twitch against you as that familiar warmth invades your pussy.

His curses are much louder this time around, slurring out profanities as thick ropes of cum coat your walls.

You gave one last whine before completely collapsing under him. "Satoru..." you said softly, very much out of breath.

He was silent for a second, slowly pulling himself out of your sore, leaking hole. He took his thumb and plugged your cunt so that his precious fluids stayed inside.

You squeaked from the feeling and laid on the floor in defeat. Your whole body was spent and you felt as if you could pass out on the floor.

He stood up and lifted his sweats back up. "C'mon princess lets go back to bed." He said kneeling back down to pick you up.

"I hate you, Satoru." You said meekly. You meant it, yet you didn't at the same time.

"Love you too baby." He said picking you up, bridal style.

He carried you to your bed, slipping under the covers with you. He spooned you and rested his face in the crook of your neck.

His scent was intoxicating, cologne mixed with musk and alcohol. Fuck, you really did miss him after all.

Whatever, you'll deal with kicking him out in the morning. Or not. You weren't sure anymore as you drifted back to sleep.

#jjk x you #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk x fem!reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #female reader #gojo saturo #gojo x you

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stargirlstabber · 5 months

Text

obedient little bitch

featuring. alpha!konig x omega!reader x alpha!ghost

cw. !smut; mdni! a/b/o dynamics, oral (m! giving and recieving), throat fucking, breeding, cockwarming , threesome, stomach bulge, a little dub-con, face sitting, a bit thigh riding, fingering

a/n. i present you a masterpiece which was written by my bestie, who doesn't have a tumblr acc ^^ copy/pasted it and did some changes. credit goes to my lil pookie baby :3

~Ghost POV~

It was just another day like many. Get up, eat, patrols and missions, repeat. Boring and draining until I walked down the halls with a college of mine ,Konig. Despite us both being alphas we got along...well most of the time.

Most of us here were alphas ,we had an omega here a year ago as far as I remember but he died on the battle field. To no ones surpise being honest.

Walking down into our quarters, it felt like every nerve in my body was suddenly on edge ,I looked over at my friend. I could only see his pupils delate and the way he was beginning to sweat under his balaclava before both of us knew exactly what drove us wild...only a sweet and innocent little omega in fresh heat could cause something like this.

Neither of us wasted any time to follow that sweet ,sweet scent of pheromones in the air. To our suprise, the alluring smell brought us right to our room. So our little cadet was indeed just an omega that hid herself from us what a naughty ,naughty girl...

Quickly bursting into the door we already saw her on the bed ,panting ,sweating ,curled up on her bed with a nest built of our clothing. I could already smell that sweet cunt calling for me.

Before I even registered it ,Konig had ripped off his balaclava ,barley able to contain himself from pouncing on this sweet little thing. I would be lying if I said I didnt want to sink my teeth into that delicate little neck.

Smirking ,the both of us hungrily walked over to her. The fear yet begging to be knotted in her eyes was all we needed to know. Neither of us had to say a word before that obedient little bitch in heat rolled onto her back ,exposing that cute tummy.. which soon will bulge with cum...from us.

"Please- I.." ,she panted ,begging softly , "I don't know what's going on.." "A first time heater hm?.." ,Konig chuckled darkly ,the thrive to ruin that innocent litte slut was written all over his face.

She nod pathetically ,whining softly for us. My friend was the first to climb onto the bed with her ,quickly getting rid of his ,either way ,sweaty shirt. I could hear him growling before he went down on her. Grabbing her by the legs and dragging her towards him ,pulling her onto his lap. And fuck would I be a liar if this didn't turn me on ,but I decided to be patient for now ,sitting down on the edge of the bed while slowly palming my already hard cock through my pants.

Konig on the other hand wasn't patient ,he quickly got to work and pulled off her shirt ,as she wrapped her delicate arms around his neck he began to grope those perfect breasts. Not to big ,not to small ,perfectly fitting into the palm. And shit ,it almost made me cum on the spot when I heard her moan and his silent groan fill the air.

"I bet those nipples are begging to get sucked hm?... Little Omegas like you are always so sensitive in their heat.." ,he chuckled before unclipping her bra ,throwing it off to the side. Damn was it a sight to see those perfect tits bounce slightly, begging to be sucked. And rather quickly was their wish acknowledged as I heard Konigs slurps fill the air. Watching her arch ,throw her head back and whimper as her hands tangeled into his hair.

It was to much. Even if I wanted to be patient I simply had to ,pulling down my pants and slowly teasing my sensitive tip with my thumb. My friend on the other hand rolled her sensitive nipples between his fingers ,pulling and pinching them, earning moan after moan from that eager little omega.

Mindlessly, she began to grind her hips along his tigh. "That sweet little pussy must be begging for friction." ,I tought to myself. "Yeah ,you like riding my thigh?" ,Konig groaned ,flexing his thigh before grabbing her hips , controlling the pace as he slowly dragged that delicious cunt along his thigh. It was one hell of a show to see these two get all hot and bothered. Like a real time porn, but better of course, and I was defenetily not complaining.

Watching my friend drag his tounge between her tits before sucking on one of those nipples ,hell ,what would I give to suck on those breasts. I heard him groan as he moved his hand down ,his thumb finding her sweet little clit. Rubbing tight circles into the sensitive nerve bundle ,adding to the sensation of her slick folds dragging along his thigh.

This was simply to much , I wasn't able to control myself any longer. I had to get a taste of that sweet wetness. "Move man." ,I growled under my breath as I stomped over, snatching that sweet omega from his lap and throwing her onto the bed and ripping off any remaining clothes that could get between me and my meal. "Damn ,someone's hungry" ,Konig snickered. His voice thick with lust and desire.

It was his time to wait and watch while I had my fun. She looked all shy ,rubbing those soft thighs together in desperate need of friction. Laying down on my back I pulled her on top of me ,my hands locking around her thighs as I pulled her dripping cunt to my face ,yet she pulled back ,hesitating.

"I'll suffocate you..." ,that sweet thing mumbled nervously. "Even if you do ,that horny slut would die a happy man ,now sit down." ,Konig demanded while pushing her hips down. I felt her weight on me ,yet it didn't bother me. She earned herself a groan once I let my tongue run through her folds and those plush thighs locked around my head.

I was eating that sweet pussy like a starved man ,lapping between her entrance and that soft clit ,licking ,teasing ,sucking those sensitive sweet spots. I couldn't see ,but I felt her arching her back ,moaning and crying my name while her delicate fingers ran through my hair. It felt like she tried to shove my face deeper into that sweetness and let me tell you ,I was surely not gonna complain.

"Fuck- you taste so damn good.." ,I rasped ,getting lost in the moment before I felt someone grab onto my exposed dick ,slowly dragging their hand along my shaft. I mindlessly bucked my hips up into the delicious friction until something clicked.

This wasn't this sweet omegas hand ,the hand felt way to rough and big for that ,her hands were still tangled in my hair anyway. And once I heard that motherfucker groan ,I knew it. "Konig-!" ,I snarled. That bitch only chuckled in response. "Relax..keep licking that cunt clean while I work on some...business" ,he snickered before my eyes almost rolled back. The sensation of his warm mouth greedily welcoming my tip ,his lips wrapping around my length ,swallowing inch after inch ,painfully slow.

I never tought I was intrested in men but damn was that tall-ass good at sucking cock. While Konig seemed to be enjoying his meal, I was enjoying mine. Meanwhile my hands got to work too ,two of my fingers finding their way into that little pussy ,rubbing and stimulating her g-spot, while sucking on her clit did wonders and slowly worked that tightness open.

Heavy slurps filled the room as Konig had managed to swallow all of me ,his tongue massaging the underside of my shaft ,bobbing his head up and down as his hand gently squeezed and played with my balls. Shit-..I knew my family jewelery was sensitive but fuck, Konig took it to a whole other level.

That cocky fuck has been edging me for a while now ,no matter how much I bucked my hips he would always stop sucking last second. "Shove his fucking head down-!" ,I snarled between licking those tasty juices.

And ta-da. My obedient princess obeyed in no time ,grabbing onto Konigs head and shoving it down ,all the way till his nose touched my pubic bone.He gagged loudly ,his pretty throat tightening around my thick shaft. Fuck ,I could've came right on the spot. What little pleasure can do to a women ,mindlessly obeying commands. Either way ,I was just as eager to taste her cum so I let my fingers work quicker.

"I'm gonna- Simon please ,please-! I'm gon-!" ,she cried out. And before she could even finish her sentence I felt her walls almost crush my fingers. Her juices flew out of her and right onto my eager tongue. I quickly swallowed up all of her sweet juices.

Konig in the meantime continued to slurp around my shaft ,I could feel his saliva dripping down between my legs. I don't even care to be honest ,spit running out of his mouth and all over me. With a finally squeeze of my balls ,I came ,harder than I expected.Konig groaned and gagged around my twitching cock as ropes of warm white cum slowly ran down his throat. And before I had to even say a word ,he swallowed.

That sweet omega was panting ,almost limp as she barley had the strength to keep herself upright. And once Konig released my shaft I settled her down on the bed. "Let her head hang of the bed." ,my friend rasped with a smug grin. And so I did. Moving her either way limp body so her head hung off the bed slightly.

I didn't care what Konig had planned. What I cared for was this pussy. Grabbing her thighs and spreading them pretty once more as I grabbed my dick ,slowly teasing my tip around her entrance. That sweet yelp was all I needed to know before I slid the tip in. That slut was so wet it slid in like butter. Her thighs trembeled in my hands as I slowly inserted inch after inch.She arched her back of the bed ,panting like a dog while her eyes rolled back.

"Cute slut.." ,Konig cooed before rubbing his tip with pre over her lips. "Now say ah~..." obediently ,she opened her mouth ,placing her hands against his thighs before letting him stuff his dick into her mouth like some cheap whore. She gagged ,yet I heard her submissively slurp and suck his cock. And taking by the way he groaned and bucked his hips, Konig loved it.

Those tight walls wrapped around me- fuck I felt like a virgin again ,getting pussy for the first time was nothing compared to this hot ,tight little cunt. She had adjusted enough in my eyes before I began to gently pull out and slam back in. Her whole body rocked forward ,and watching those tits bounce? Incredible. My hand moved between our connected bodies to rub her clit. My goal was to leave a mark on that body. My dick reaching depths she probably didn't know existed.

Fucked from rear and front she took it like a slut. Our pretty little slut at that. It didn't take long before Konig shoved his cock balls deep into that sweet mouth ,groaning out "cumming-" ,before slowly pulling out of her mouth. "Good girl.." ,he praised while gently caressing her throat.

His sharp gaze now lingered on me as I fucked this pussy into exercy. She was a moaning mess ,arching her back before she came without a warning ,probably to dumbfucked to get a proper word out. The way that already tight pussy gripped my cock made it feel like she was crushing it. Which ,to no ones suprise ,made me cum at that tightness. I let her ride out her delicious high by lazily rolling my hips into hers ,rubbing her clit raw until she jerked away at the slightest friction.

I pulled out slowly ,watching my cum ooze out of her little hole. Now as I looked at that sweaty ,fucked out mess of an Omega ,her tummy indeed had a slight bulge from my cum nestled inside her. "Ah ah ah..dont waste those precious juices." ,Konig spoke sofly yet with a chuckle before he pulled her into a spooning position. Slowly inserting his thick shaft into her twitching hole ,stopping any cum from seeping out further. She moaned at the sensation yet stayed limp and all cuddly in his arms.

"Cockwarming eh?" ,I teased. "What can I say ,I like a warm ,tight pussy wrapped around me." ,Konig snickered back before beginning to caress her hair. A little cuddle session after this didn't sound too bad...so I decided to join them ,getting next to our well bred little omega and wrapping my arms around her.

#lia.writes #cod #cod smut #cod x reader #cod könig #cod ghost #call of duty #call of duty smut #könig smut #ghost smut #simon riley #simon riley smut #ghost x reader #könig x reader #smut #cod simon riley

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Augophile - Theodore Nott

N: RIGHT BITCHES! IT'S AU O'CLOCK! This is my first soulmate au, sorry if it's cringe <3 p.s. English is my first language but sorry anyway if there's any miss spellings

Requests: Still open <3

Requested by: Piss_Witch

Summary: AU where once you turn sixteen, you lose the ability to see colours until you meet your soulmate. But what if they don't want to see your colours?

Warnings: Angsty (a bit?), injury detail, i villainise McLaggen again <3 (He's racist for like one line and is a grade A asshole), mentions of amnesia, fluffy ending <3

Ships mentioned: Panstoria, Bluna

Dynamics: Grumpy X sunshine, miscommunication, soulmates, friends to lovers, tall and calm, short and excitable

Soul-mate. Soul-mate. Soul-mate.

Your heart beat in time with the words you'd been hearing all week long, unable to shake the excitable feeling that comes with approaching your sixteenth birthday.

Sweet sixteen held a meaning within teenagers, but a different one for magical teens such as yourself.

Having seen colours all your life, you were only partially prepared to lose sight of them all. You remembered Pansy's sixteenth, when she'd come downstairs crying.

"MY BI FLAG LOOKS LIKE SOME WEIRD ASS STRAIGHT FLAG!" She had sobbed, and you had comforted her until Astoria came into the room, and suddenly colours were visible again.

Your other friends weren't quite as lucky. Mattheo was unable to see colours, he stated plainly, while Theodore vehemently denied being able to see any colours at all. Just fifty shades of grey.

Draco was the youngest of the boys, and hadn't yet had his sixteenth. Blaise however was lucky, having been passing Ravenclaw dorm at the same time as a certain Luna Lovegood the week after his birthday.

And now here you were, in the week leading up to your birthday, saying your final goodbyes to colours.

"I'm going to miss seeing brown." You said idly as you fiddled with a blanket, lying across a couch in the Slytherin common room.

Draco snorted. "You'll miss brown? Why? It's such a boring colour." You sat up, indignant. "It's not. Cinnamon, trees in autumn, gingerbread, old vinyls, paper, vintage cars, antique bookshelves..." You listed, and a smile quirked at the corner of Theodore's mouth as he read.

"I think I'm just going to miss all the colours." You confessed.

"Our little Augophile." Blaise chuckled. You gave him a confused look. "Someone who loves colours." You thought for a second. "Sounds about right." You grinned.

The corner of Theo's mouth quirked again, but he looked back down to his book.

"I don't know if I'm ready." You said, sighing. The atmosphere of the room shifted instantly. "What do you mean?" Pansy said, unsticking herself from Astoria for a second.

"I mean I'm nervous. What if we're too similar? What if I hate them?" You said, stressing. "What if they hate me? WHAT IF IT'S DRACO." You yelled the last part, horrified. The others laughed.

Draco grimaced. "Thanks, l/n." You smiled. "Any time ferret." He glared at you, but you were too busy spiralling.

"What do you want in a soulmate anyway, y/n?" Lorenzo asked, looking mildly curious.

"Umm... nice, able to cook, ideally he'd be able to read, but given people like Crabbe and Goyle go to this school, that's not a guarantee..." You said, recieving a laugh. "My friends need to like him, and he needs to be willing to defend me." You said, finishing. (DON'T. MINDS OUT OF THE GUTTER.)

"So... the bare minimum?" Mattheo said sarcastically. "Omg, babe, the bare minimum? You shouldn't have..." He rolled his eyes, laughing.

"I'm just kind of praying to a spiritual thing or whatever that they're not an asshole. That would suck." You said, fiddling with your hair.

Theo gently pulled your hand away from your hair. "You'll make your hair greasy." He said, not looking up.

You smiled and turned back to the conversation. "Look, y/n, I find it unlikely that the universe would give someone like you a bad person as a soulmate. I mean, that would be like you and me being together. Or you and Theo. It just wouldn't work." Mattheo said, shaking his head with a smirk.

"Right?!" You said, laughing softly. Theo stiffened slightly, unnoticed by everyone but the elder Riddle, who sat back reading a muggle book you had leant him.

You noticed Tom's smirk and turned to look at him. "What's on your mind Tomothy?" You said, smiling.

"Just Tom is fine, n/n. And I am merely amused by two characters in this story. Neil and Todd I believe? The two of them seem... rather well matched." Tom said idly. You smiled as Mattheo craned his neck to look at the book.

"Dead Poet's society?" He said, wrinkling his nose. "How do they write if they're dead? Ghosts don't have a present form to write with..." He frowned.

You laughed. "They don't write the poetry. Well, they do, but later on. They're obsessed with a poet called John Keats." Mattheo interrupted you.

"Sounds boooring, I don't wanna know." He said, groaning. Tom rolled his eyes as your smile faltered slightly. Theo noted that.

"I want to know." He said, placing his book carefully to the side, 'The secret history'.

You smiled. He had no idea what he was getting into.

You then spent the next two hours explaining the plot of dead poets to Theodore, who was, surprisingly, an avid listener. He asked questions in the right place, and although his expression didn't say much, he didn't move away or interrupt you, so you assumed he was interested.

"So... to be clear, they were never actually together, but you wish Neil and Todd were?" Theodore concluded. You nodded, brushing tears away from your eyes. A sniffle was heard from behind you, and you turned to see Lorenzo wiping his eyes with a tissue.

"My poor little homosexuals..." He said, looking genuinely sad. You and Theo exchanged a look, trying to work out if he was serious or not, which apparently he was, as you found out later. Theo awkwardly patted his back, trying to console him to the best of his ability.

You giggled to yourself, picking up your book and heading upstairs.

Theodore called after you. "Y/N!"

You turned, looking back at him from the steps to your dorm. "Yeah?"

"You're coming to the match tomorrow right?" He said hesitantly. "Gryffindor versus Slytherin. Matt's been pushing us hard, should be a good game." He continued, trying to gauge your reaction.

You nodded, smiling. "Oh yeah. I'll be there." You said, waving before you headed up to bed.

Theodore smiled to himself, before picking up his book again. You'd be there.

"TEN POINTS TO SLYTHERIN!" Lee Jordan's voice rang out across the stadium, amplified by his magical megaphone. You looked on excitedly as Enzo scored another goal for Slytherin, taking the lead from Gryffindor.

Gryffindor were clearly starting to get slightly worried, and their new beaters, Kirke and Sloper were clearly losing their nerve. They needed a distraction from the game, to give Gryffindor a lead.

They needed to take out someone who the entire Slytherin team would care about enough to stop the game for a moment.

They needed to take out you.

Throughout the game, Theodore's eyes flickered to you, making sure you were still watching. And every time he looked, there you were, eyes trained on the game and a happy smile on your face.

Theodore batted a bludger at Ginny Weasley, which Sloper deflected perfectly... until it wasn't perfect anymore.

The bludger came speeding towards you, too fast for you to move.

There was a sickening crunch, and then everything went black.

one week later

"-Mr Nott you need to leave, she needs rest and she'll probably be rather disorentated when she wakes-"

"-I don't care, I'm not leaving her like this."

"Huh?" You mumbled, eyes fluttering slightly before they opened a fraction.

A face swam into vision, looking down at you with a concerned frown. You felt a flash of something in your chest, and then the face came into colour.

"Careful, Mr Nott, she will be emotionally fragile after such damage." The woman's voice tutted as she bustled away.

It took you a minute of squinting to bypass the amnesia before a name came to you.

"Teddy?" You mumbled, and the figure rolled their eyes with a small smile.

"You haven't called me that since we were eight, y/n." The figure said, sitting back in the chair beside the hospital bed you were apparently in.

Right, y/n... that must be you. 'Teddy' frowned.

"Yes it's you, why wouldn't you be y/n?" He said, looking concerned, and you realised you had spoken aloud.

"She probably has some level of amnesia, from her head injury. She's also on a lot of pain meds, and may be a little honest." The lady said, bustling away near you. Teddy's mouth set into a hard line.

"Quel maledotto idiota. Non guarda dove sta colpendo quella dannata cosa, no, la colpisce semplicemente ovunque gli piaccia dannatamente." He grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose as he lapsed into his mothertongue. (That fucking idiot. He doesn't look where he's hitting the damn thing, no, he just hits it wherever he damn well pleases)

"Uh, sorry, I don't speak Ravioli." You said, peering up at him curiously. "What did you say?"

"It doesn't matter." He said, shaking his head. "What do you remember from Saturday?" He said, looking at you intently.

You wrestled with your brain for a moment, trying to bypass your amnesia. "I remember walking to the quidditch stadium... and watching you. You were very good." You said absent mindedly, not noticing how that surprised him.

"I didn't know you were watching me particularly tesoro." He smirked, and you frowned. That name had stirred something in you... THEO! That was his name.

"I always do, I don't want any of you guys to get hurt, you're my best friends." You said, seeming confused as Theo's smirk dropped.

Right. Of course you wouldn't be watching just him. That would have been ridiculous. So why did he feel disappointed?

"But that's all I remember. What else happened?" You said, looking interested.

Theo hesitated. Did he tell you? Aw what the hell, you were going to find out anyway.

"You were watching the game with Pansy when an unnamed beater on the Gryffindor team threw a hissy fit and hit a bludger at you. I say unnamed because although I know exactly who it was that hit it, I couldn't be bothered to learn his name. Perhaps you can identify him?" Theo nodded towards a figure lying in a bed a few beds down to your right.

You craned your neck to see. They seemed to have a broken nose, and several bruises covering their face, making them look like some strange purple smurf.

"The grumpy lady said I have amnesia right? So honestly, given he looks like a bruised potato, I have no idea who that is." You said, smiling slightly, before looking again, this time noticing the patients name written on a get well soon card.

"Actually, now that you mention it, a name does come to mind... A Jack Sloper I think?"

Theo frowned, looking at the boy again. "If he's that recognisable, Tom and I clearly didn't do a good enough job."

You giggled. "It's on his card, Teddy. His get well soon card. He probably needs all the well wishes he can get, given his current state."

Theo's lip twitched, and you saw a hint of a smile. "Glad to be of service." You smiled, which then flipped into a frown. "But... the scottish lady... what's her name... Old MacDonald?" At that Theodore laughed, a deep laugh that was all all too rare noise.

"McGonagall, y/n." You beamed. "Right, thanks!" He shook his head, smiling at you. "Anyway, McGonagall, there's no way she let you get away with this." At that, Theo winced.

"That bad huh?" He grimaced, and you braced for impact. "Two months detention." He said, shaking his head. You sighed. "Not expelled then." Theo looked shocked. "God no tesoro, she was rather sympathetic to my cause actually." You straightened. "Which was?"

Theo frowned. "He hurt you y/n, I couldn't just let him get away with no repercussions." You looked confused. "You didn't beat up that Hufflepuff guy when he broke our blonde friends name..." You searched for a name, racking your brain.

"Astoria, and I won't tell her you forgot her name, lest she murder you in cold blood." Theo chuckled lowly. You smiled gratefully, then remembered your question. "So, why'd you beat up Sloper and not the Hufflepuff when he hurt Astoria?" You asked softly, fiddling with your pale cream bedsheets.

"Perché Astoria non sei tu." He rolled his eyes. (Because Astoria isn't you.)

You frowned. "There you go again with the ravioli. What's special about me? I can't mean much more than her." Theo hesitated, as if he'd made a mistake. "You're not special. I've just known you longer, you're an obligation, not a choice, y/n." He replied, voice slightly cold.

That hurt, and he saw it in your face, internally cursing himself. This is why it was stupid to be close to you, he'd just end up hurting you with stupid words and silly lies and ridiculous promises.

"I know. Don't worry." You whispered, eyes roving over the vibrant colours of the flowers on Sloper's bedside. "But you don't need to fight for me, Theo." Unknowingly, that hurt Theo.

You'd said you wanted a soulmate who would defend you, and now that he'd done it for you, you were saying you didn't need him to. Clearly you didn't want him to be like your ideal soulmate. You didn't want him. And not only that, he was Theo again. Not Teddy. Just Theo, what everyone else called him. Well, everyone else he cared even a little for.

"I know, don't worry." He replied coldly, standing and leaving. You felt horrible. He'd fought for you, risked his safety, and you'd rebuked him. You hoped he wasn't too upset over it. Something in you felt wrong when he was upset.

He came back in after a moment. "Y/N, I'm sorry." He sighed. "This has probably been a lot for you. And I know what you're saying, don't feel bad. I gotta go to detention though, okay Tesoro? I'll see you later solare." He kissed your forehead and then left. And everything felt better. (Darling, sunshine)

A month had passed since you were freed from the jail of the hospital wing and you were flying high, except for the fact that you had hardly seen Theo, given his two months detention. You missed your best friend, least of all because of the major crush you'd been harbouring for a year or so.

You had been reminded of the existence of soulmates, but were still not sure how people knew they were soulmates, and hadn't wanted to ask for fear of being thought stupid. Unfortunately, you were about to find out. Or, think so.

"Y/N!" A voice called after you as you walked out of class. You span, and noticed Cormac McLaggen watching you with an unreadable expression.

"Yeah?" You replied uncertainly.

"Can I talk to you for a moment? It's really important." He called. You nodded carefully, following him.

"I know this must come as a shock, but we're soulmates." You started. "What?" You were confused.

"I know, it shocked me too, I had no idea, it doesn't feel real. I'm so happy, though. I knew we were meant to be together." He said excitedly, smirking. "How... How do you know?" You asked, trying to look indifferent.

"Well, I know you forgot how soulmates work, but the man in the relationship can always tell. You feel this weird pull towards her, and then you just know. I know you can feel it too." He said, so convincingly.

You looked at him. He looked so convinced, so excited. How could you tell him you couldn't feel it? "Yes, I feel it." You said, trying to sound convinced. He looked surprised for a second, before his face relaxed. "Good, good! So, can I take you out?"

You thought for a second. He was your soulmate after all. "Okay, sure." You put on a bright smile.

"Awesome, meet me in Hogsmeade this weekend then." He said, walking away. Was that it? Your soulmate? You thought it would be more. A magical flash of light, some weird pull... but nothing. But he was. He was. So you would push through.

(A month later)

You were in your dorm bathroom with Pansy and Astoria, getting ready for a date with Cormac. He wasn't a perfect soulmate, but he was okay? Right? He forced you to spend an awful lot of time with him. As a result, you'd barely seen your friends since he spoke to you the first time. As for Theo... you hadn't seen him properly since the hospital wing, besides a few group hangouts, due to his detention, which had finally ended tonight. And you missed him.

"-Y/N!" A voice called you and you snapped out of your thoughts. "Hmm? Yes sorry?"

"I was asking how it felt for you when you first saw colours again. You know, when you first looked at McLaggen." Astoria said, smiling.

You frowned. "What?" Pansy looked confused.

"You know, when you look at your soulmate, and the colour comes back into your life after the grey." Pansy said, trying to prompt your memory. "Maybe your memory still isn't all there." She said sympathetically.

"When you turned sixteen, you would have lost the ability to see colours for a bit, until you saw McLaggen." Astoria explained, smiling. "I was asking how it felt for you to see colours again."

You froze, tensing up. You had been able to see colours before you see Cormac. You had been able to see colours way before then. Oh god. Why had Cormac lied to you?

"Y/N? So, how'd it feel?" You jerked back into consciousness. "Umm, yeah, it felt good." You said, and realised they were watching you. You noticed your expression had dropped and upped the wattage of your smile. That put them off for a little, at least until you were gone.

You decided to wait near the library, which was where Cormac had said he'd meet you. Let the waiting begin. As you waited, you began to wonder. Was Cormac even your soulmate like he said he was? He'd have no reason to lie about that. And even so, if you'd always been able to see colours, maybe your soulmate was dead? That made sense. Maybe your soulmate was dead, and Cormac knew, so he replaced him.

You frowned. That was ridiculous, nearly Aaron Warner level delusional. And McLaggen still wasn't there for you to ask.

And little did you know, he wouldn't be for quite a while.

Theo's POV

Finally, a night without detention. It had been a seriously long time since he'd had a free night, and he revelled in it. Not that it hadn't been worth it, Sloper would be much careful with his bat now, and he'd managed to get an apology to you. Not without Theo threatening him though and Tom glaring at him ominously.

Although having to babysit a load of excitable and enthusiastic first years was not the way anybody would want to spend every Tuesday. How were they so happy? And enthusiastic? And not absolutely drowning in homework? No, Theo couldn't understand it. But hey, they were at least invested in learning chess, which he taught them with great patience. Tom, not so much.

He had been asked to tutor second years, and reduced a poor Ravenclaw girl to tears, earning him another additional day of detention.

Theo slid down onto a couch in the common room with Blaise to his left. Dracp clapped him on the back, grinning. "Welcome back to having a social life, Nott." Theo grimaced slightly, but let a smile grace his face.

"Catch me up then, what did I miss?" He said, trying to seem nonchalant, when in reality, he was dying to know the castle gossip. Not that he'd ever tell Pansy and Astoria, they'd hound him for eternity.

"Umm... let me think. Oh yeah, so, Anna Dbrovnik in 7th year had a pregnancy scare, but it was okay because it turned out she hadn't even had sex, Lavender Brown has a crush on Ron Weasley, and Y/N and Cormac McLaggen started dating." Astoria reeled off, noticing Theo's face harden and him sit up at her last words.

"What?" He said lethally quietly. "Oh yeah, turns out he's her soulmate, which none of us really saw coming, and now they're going out. Weird right?" Pansy continued brightly, obviously aware of what she'd just done.

"I didn't know it was possible to have two soulmates." Theo said quietly. Seven heads turned his way. "Alright man, what the flip?" Said Lorenzo, earning a badly disguised giggle from Mattheo.

"Y/N's my soulmate, and now I find out I have to share her with McLaggen?" Theo spat bitterly. Some cruel trick of nature. "That's not possible. Everyone only has one soulmate, it's written into the laws of the universe or something." Tom said, trying to appear indifferent.

"So that means either you're lying, which I doubt, or McLaggen is. WHAT A LITTLE WHORE!" Astoria screeched, furious on your behalf. "Alright, calm down babe." Pansy grabbed her shoulders, pulling Astoria back and kissing her head.

"I WILL NOT BE SILENT! SOME UGLY GRYFFINDOR HOE HAS DECIEVED MY BEST FRIEND!" Astoria said, voice raising in decibels with each syllable.

Pansy thought for a second, and then realised something. "She already knows."

There was a sharp intake of breath from several people, before Blaise asked the all important question. "How do you know?"

Pansy slid down onto the sofa. "She froze up when we asked her how it felt to find out McLaggen was her soulmate. We mentioned the whole colours thing and she looked so confused, she clearly didn't know that that's how it works. How did we not see that?" Pansy groaned.

Theo coughed. "So... if she knew he wasn't her soulmate and knew he'd been lying to her, why did she still go to him?" He said, trying to douse the flame burning in his chest with water.

"Knowing Y/N, that's not going to be a date for her, it's going to be a confrontation." Draco smirked. The water became gasoline, the fire burning it's way through his body before reaching his brain and shocking him into motion.

"I have to tell Y/N. I have to at least talk to her, even if she rejects me." Theo said, standing quickly. Pansy scoffed. "Yeah, as if she's about to reject you." Astoria giggled, and Theo froze.

"What?"

Theo, you're almost as blind as Astoria without contacts." Astoria stopped giggling and glared at her girlfriend, who gave her an apologetic look. "Y/N's had an itty bitty massive crush on you since you were kids, Theo." Pansy said, rubbing his shoulder sympathetically. "So don't screw this up, or we'll all hit you to Pluto." She said brightly. Theo turned to the group.

"That true? You'd all hit me to Pluto if I hurt her?" There was a collective silence, and Theo exhaled. "Wow, thanks guys." He said sarcastically.

"I'd only hit you to mars, but that's because of cracky joints." Enzo offered. Theo rolled his eyes, standing and leaving the common room, speed walking down corridors to try and find you.

"WRONG WAY! SHE'S AT THE LIBRARY!" Pansy called after him. He flushed, before turning and running the correct way.

...

Your POV

You had been waiting just under half an hour for McLaggen, with him still no show. You sighed quietly, before beginning to walk away from the library, wandering aimlessly towards the Gryffindor common room to try check on him.

You had barely got a corridor away when McLaggen appeared infront of you, chest heaving and out of breath. "GOT- HELD- UP- WITH- UH... HOMEWORK!" He wheezed, catching his breath. Your eyes quickly roved over him, taking in his appearance. You noticed his half done belt, and a lipstick print on his ruffled collar, his rumpled shirt.

You didn't have to be a Ravenclaw to work that one out. But instead of feeling upset, or angry, or mad.. you felt nothing. Maybe a little disappointed, given you thought he was better than that, but honestly? Recent events had dissipated the few shreds of respect you still had for him.

"Yes, I'm sure homework can be incredible distracting." You said quietly. He didn't appear to notice. "Right so, shall we go?" He said presumptuously. You shook your head.

"Actually, I wanted to talk to you." You said nervously. He groaned. "Y/N, you talk too much, we'll be late." He said, rolling his eyes, gripping your wrist and attempting to pull you along. A few students looked on at this. You bit back a retort, wrenching your wrist from his grip.

"Why'd you tell me we're soulmates?" You asked carefully. He turned, shock evident on his face as his hand became clammy. "Because we are, babe. Come along now." He said through gritted teeth. You shook your head vehemently, as Theodore and a few of your other friends came around the corner, out of breath, Theodore in front.

"I could see colours before I saw you. You took advantage of me, and you lied to me. I want to know why." You took a step closer, glaring at him.

He took a step back, a smirk crossing his face, which you felt a burning urge to slap. "Calm it, Y/N, or I'll think you're confused. You sure you don't need to see madam Pomfrey?" He said in mock sympathy, obviously trying to get a laugh out of his audience. No-one laughed.

Theo stepped forward, coming to stand beside you. "You can do this, Tesoro. Don't let him gaslight you." He whispered to you. You smiled. Cormac frowned.

"What are you saying to her?" He glared.

"I'm telling her the best way to dismember you without getting caught." Theo deadpanned, smirking at you with that signature look of his. You grinned up at him, and Tom raised an eyebrow. "You're talking about method five right?" He said, frowning.

Theo rolled his eyes. "I was being sarcastic, but yes, if I was to tell her I'd use that one." Tom nodded and returned to his position against the wall.

"You're being stupid, Y/N. You know I'm your soulmate, so stop being so ridiculous." He scoffed, pulling you towards him. Theo gently pulled you back, pulling McLaggen's hands off of you with such force that he winced.

"You don't touch her, Signor Piccolo Cazzo." Theo taunted, glaring. He pushed you behind him. "You don't get to walze in here, gaslight her and act like she's the problem. È incredibile e tu non meriti di pulirle le scarpe." (Mr Small dick) (She's incredible, and you are not worth of wiping her shoes.)

McLaggen clenched his fists, clearly not knowing what Theo was saying, but getting the gist of it. "Look it's none of your goddamn business Nott, just fuck off back to your own country." You started at that, walking forward and slapping him across the face. Cormac reeled.

"FUCK Y/N? WHY WOULD YOU HIT YOUR SOULMATE?" He yelled, clearly playing the victim. No-one came to help him.

"She's not your fucking soulmate." Theo said, lethally quiet. You were surprised. How did he know that?

"YOU CAN'T PROVE THAT NOTT, CAN YOU? HOW DO YOU KNOW?" McLaggen taunted him. And that was Theo's breaking point.

"BECAUSE SHE'S MY SOULMATE. SHE'S MEANT TO BE MINE, AND I'M FUCKING HERS, AND MERLIN DAMN ME IF I LET A STRONZO LIKE YOU STEAL HER HEART." Theo exploded, towering over McLaggen.

You froze. Looking at Theo. Looking at McLaggen. Looking at Theo. Him looking at you.

"It's you."

It wasn't a question. It was barely a statement. It was a truth, unknown until now.

"Whatever. You were a fucking bet anyway." Cormac said, rolling his eyes. At that, Theo turned, and you gripped his wrist, pulling him away from McLaggen.

"I don't want you to get in trouble." You whispered to him.

"Solare, right now I couldn't care less." He murmured to you. You smiled, shaking your head. "I don't think we need to do anything." You gestured to a furious Ravenclaw girl.

"You said you'd broken up." She glared at Cormac. "Y/N, girl, I swear I wouldn't have gone near him if I'd known you were still together." She said, turning to you apologetically. You shook your head, smiling.

"Don't worry." She smiled gratefully, before her friends dragged him off, no doubt to violently insult him.

You turned back to Theo, before you hugged him tightly. He started, before he wrapped you into a hug, putting his chin on your head. (Before someone says something about being a pick me short girl, I'm literally 5'2 irl lol I'm basing this off of my height and experiences (or lack of)

"So..." You whispered, looking up at him. He smiled down at you, that small smile reserved only for you.

"I know." He exhaled.

"Why didn't you tell me? It's not like you didn't have time, hell, you must have known like eight months?" You said, upset.

"I wanted you to come to me because you like me, not because we habe some soul connection. And I was pretty sure I was the last guy around that you'd want as your soulmate. When you described your ideal soulmate, you said someone willing to defend you, and when I did, you told me I didn't need to. I was confused, Bella." He said desperately.

"I told you you didn't need to because I hate seeing you hurt! It physically pains me, Teddy." Theo tightened his hold on you at that. "I really really care about you Theo, and that's probably because I'm desperately in love with you." You said, cheeks warming as you looked down. "You feel right. And you were the first thing I saw when I woke up, which is why I was always able to see colours." You realised.

You felt a hand on your chin, tilting your face up before a pair of lips met your forehead. Then your nose. Then each of your cheeks. The corner of your mouth. And finally, your lips.

Your first kiss with Theo was everything you had imagined in your little daydreams before bed to help you fall asleep. Except, this time, your brain hadn't just skipped to the good part, you had actually gone through and experienced all the build up. And god was it worth it.

He pulled back after a moment, and your lips chased his, eliciting a chuckle from him as he kissed you back.

"I love you like you are my oxygen. My sunshine." He murmurs to you, holding you close and pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You giggled.

"We've both been such idiots." You whispered, smiling.

"Thank god Pansy told me you love me or this would have been mortifying." He smirked, laughing lowly. You gasped.

"PANSY!" You struggled against the hands around your waist, attempting to get to her. "THEO- LET- ME- GO!" You glared at your soulmate as he chuckled.

"Much as I'd love to see you try fight, love, I don't want you to hurt your friends." You glared. "WHY?!"

"You'd be sad in the morning." He said, smiling.

"Seriously? That's your only objection?" Pansy looked unimpressed.

Theo shrugged. "If it makes her happy." He smiled down at you, where you had given up in your attempts to escape and were relaxing back into his warmth.

"Damn you and your stupid perfectness." You whispered to him, , and he leaned down and kissed you until you were smiling again.

A/N: My first soulmate AU! GAH! Hope you enjoyed, please leave a like, comment or reblog if you did, requests still open, have a good one <3

5.3K words

#harry potter #slytherin #slytherin boys #slytherins #slytherin boys headcanons #slytherin boys fluff #lorenzo berkshire #theodore nott #theodore nott x you #theodore nott headcanons #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott x fem!reader #soulmate au

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miraclewoozi · 1 year

Text

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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