I know I keep yappin' on and on about Jason, but just 🗣️ hear me out. This man is easily one of the most domestic members of the Batfam. Not in the "he's been broke" way, but in a "he knows how to live like a functioning adult compared to his siblings" way. He's been through hell, lived on the streets, squatted in every kind of apartment imaginable, and probably knows a thing or two about budgeting (those weapons don't come cheap).
Jason shops smart. Coupons on apps from time to time, all while you sleep beside in him on the weekend. He has a Costco membership and uses it. You will be waking up at 8 a.m. on a Saturday because he needs to grab bulk ground beef for his meal prep, restock the pantry, and do an oil change on your car before patrol, just in case he gets stabbed again. It's not him being dramatic, but more so efficient. Don't worry, he does take you to get a little morning drink before all this.
And yes, he is the type to not let you touch the thermostat. Your feet are cold? Baby, honey, that's what his lap is for. You could even put on those nice slippers he got you this past holiday. He knows when you touch it, too, because he will tickle you silly and then whisper in your ear if you thought it was worth the extra few degrees or not, especially in this economy, he's going to make you pee your pants for that little stunt.
Now, he is one of those boyfriends that will finish your plate for you, but solely after you take one last big bite for him, that way he knows you're actually full, and if you don't leave anything behind, he's more than happy. He likes his partner well-fed and happy.
He's just so competent; he wipes the counters after he cooks. Separates laundry. Hang dries your nice outfits. He has any special items and snacks you need for the month well-stocked. It cannot be said enough that he is probably the most prepared for civilian life compared to his siblings, if you subtract the massive amount of weapons and maybe, potentially, being a drug lord.
♡ pairing: frank langdon x fem!reader x michael robinavitch
♡ synopsis: during his time off for rehab, frank keeps in contact with you to keep up with the goings-on at ptmc. but when things go from bad to worse—abby threatening divorce & a custody battle over their children, him continually relapsing, & the worry that if he can't get & stay clean, then he may lose his license & job as a whole—he begins to lay his baggage at your feet when he believes you to be all he has left. what begins as you trying to be a good friend ends in you running to robby for help when you begin to fear for your safety due to langdon's obsession.
♡ content: mentions of drug addiction/being high, stalking, codependency, robby is protective, pining!robby, unprotected p in v sex, infidelity
Ding ding
With an exhausted sigh, you roll onto your side, despite already knowing who it is.
With a quiet huff, you throw your hand atop your bedside table and grip the plastic corners of your phone case before sliding the device into bed with you.
Peeking open blurry eyes, you squint at the illuminated glass screen and pull down on the text notification displayed.
You awake?
"God, Langdon, it's almost 2 a.m.," you mumble.
Everything okay?
typing. . .
typing. . .
Just thinking about you.
You groan while pinching the bridge of your nose.
Before Langdon's dismissal due to apparently smuggling patients' prescriptions out of the ED and back home for his own personal use, he, as well as the likes of Robby, Abbot, and McKay, were some of your favorite mentors. And when Frank was sent packing on the road to recovery, you became someone he regularly confided in.
You'd initially thought it was because he missed being at work and just wanted to keep up with the goings-on in the ED. Now, you wonder if it wasn't due to loneliness because things haven't exactly been going well for him.
Between the situation at work, trying and failing at rehab due to continually relapsing, and Abby threatening divorce, as well as taking full custody of their children... Some days, all he seems to do is spiral.
That's where you come in. It began as just the occasional text, then a random phone call, a request for a coffee meetup, and somewhere along the way, contact started bordering on obsessive.
You'll never forget the first morning you woke up to nearly a dozen texts from him—half being apologies for flying off the handle because he was in the middle of a manic episode.
That should've been the moment you blocked his number.
But instead... It's what women are always taught: you must be nice. Put their wellbeing above your own, even to your detriment. They have it so hard, after all. Their feelings are so fragile.
So you forgave him.
Now, here you lie sacrificing sleep for his benefit.
I need to go back to sleep for work tomorrow. Goodnight.
typing. . .
typing. . .
Sorry. Night.
You roll your eyes at his clipped, passive aggressive tone. All because you're not willing to stay up and entertain his feelings.
He shouldn't be talking to you like that anyway, especially given the hour.
Tossing your cell back on the nightstand, you roll onto your side facing away from it in the hopes of drifting off again soon.
You're in the midst of aiding Robby with prepping a patient for a thrombectomy before they're carted off to a specialized suite when your phone vibrates in your pocket.
Frank—that's your first thought now anytime it buzzes or chimes or anything pops up on your screen. Like when a mouse trap snaps, and you're left to assume it's caught a pest in its metal hinges. You don't know until you've checked it
Another buzz and you grit your teeth.
You need to put it on do not disturb at your earliest convenience.
Once the elderly man is deemed fit for travel across the hospital, a team comes shortly after to retrieve and wheel him away. Snapping off your gloves with irritation, you toss them into a waste bin and slip your phone from your pocket with a quiet curse—a sound that surprises Robby when he glances in your direction.
He watches as your thumbs fly across the digital keyboard and a crease knots itself right between your furrowed brows. "Everything alright?"
"It's fine," you snap—still typing.
Crossing his arms, as well as the room itself to reach you, he waits with pursed lips. "Boyfriend problems?"
You snort. "He's married, so not likely." You glance straight ahead, then press the heel of your palm to your forehead in annoyance. "We're not... He's just a friend."
Robby's attempt to skim the tiny text on your screen is futile without his readers on. "Going out on a limb, but did this 'friend' used to work here until quite recently?"
You quickly lock the device before tucking it back away and turning to face him. "He's going through a hard time and just needs someone to talk to."
Robby takes a small step forward, closing the gap between you. "Some particular reason that person needs to be you? And during work hours?"
Vibrate.
You step past him. "It's not a big deal."
"Didn't realize you and Langdon were that close," Robby remarks while following along behind.
Once you've reached your destination of the nurses station, you lean your head back and study the board above. "Frank feels alone right now, and—"
"It's Frank now, huh?" he asks with a surprised, yet humorless chuckle.
You roll your eyes before doing the same with your head, but in his direction. "I feel like you're trying to imply something."
He shrugs before glancing away and watching idly as your coworkers bustle about. "Just seemed like a heated exchange is all."
Robby looks at you again.
You exhale a quite huff of air before stepping away. "I need to grab another patient."
"You need to be careful," he calls after you.
"Always am," you mumble.
It's well past the middle of the day before you get another chance to really check your phone. You did briefly in the restroom and it only had one text from Frank:
FaceTime me during your next break ☀️
You'd raised a brow at the emoji, but didn't respond, deciding to wait like he suggested before you reached out.
Now sitting outside in the sun and fresh air, you sigh, then hold your phone at a distance from atop your knees before calling.
It's on the second ring when he picks up.
"Hey," Frank says with a smile and sleek, tousled hair falling over his brow. With an arm resting beneath his chin, you get a glimpse of a bare shoulder.
"Are you in bed?" you ask nervously.
His brows furrow. "Huh? Oh, yeah. I had a meeting earlier so now I'm just kinda...lazing around."
You nod while glancing away and watch as a pair of birds take flight from a nearby sign.
"Your day okay so far?"
You return your attention to the screen. "So far," you reply. "You asked me to call you. What were you...wanting to talk about?"
Shifting positions, you get a flash of Frank's bare chest before he leans back against the headboard behind him. "Just wondering if you wanted to grab dinner after your shift." He smiles. "My treat. I can pick you up when you get off, take you out, then bring you back."
You blink a couple times. "And talk about what?" you ask warily, already feeling like this is a bad idea.
He smiles softly. "Whatever you want, sweetheart."
A frown tugs at your lips. "You shouldn't call me that."
He chuckles. "What if I told you that's what I have your name saved as in my phone?"
Your eyes flit between his. "I would say that that's inappropriate."
He huffs and rolls his eyes. "I'm kidding, Jesus."
You kick a pebble with the toe of your shoe. "After work I usually just like to go home and take a shower." Your eyes flit back to the screen. "Get something to eat, then—"
"Look, you're gonna eat anyway, so let me take care of dinner tonight. Less dishes for you to wash," he remarks with a grin.
You shift in your seat. "I don't know that your wife would like that."
He snorts flippantly. "Well, getting her opinion would require her actually talking to me." Frank looks at his phone again. "I could always call her? Ask what she thinks? Maybe give her your number. I mean, the two of you could compare notes about me and—"
You throw your head back and groan in irritation, which earns you a laugh.
"So what'd'ya say? I won't have you out long. Hour or less. Promise."
You chew the inside of your lip.
"C'mon," he insists softly. "It's the least I can do to repay how good you've been to me since all this crap started."
"Just trying to be a good friend," you mumble.
"So am I," Frank states quietly.
This is a chance for you to seize. Being face-to-face, you'll have a better chance of getting through to him that the late-night texts need to stop, as do the pet names. And that he needs to put just as much effort into maintaining meaningful contact with Abby. That while you have no problem being his friend, he needs to lean heavily on his sponsor instead. It isn't...right to put it all on you—fellow medical professional or not.
"Okay," you relent with a nod. "But just for a little while."
He practically beams. "I'll be waiting for you in the parking lot at the end of your shift."
"There she is," Frank says with a smile while popping open the passenger side door of his vehicle.
Unlocking the trunk of your own, you quickly toss your pack inside before slamming it shut again and relocking it.
Even as you're sinking inside, Frank can't help himself from sliding a palm down your arm.
"So," you begin while pulling your ice water toward you. "What were you wanting to talk about?"
Frank leans back and you watch as a small smile plays on his lips. "Whatever you want."
You release a quiet exhale through your nose. Ok, fine. Works for you anyway. Just when you go to open your mouth, however, the waitress returns with your respective meals: a cheeseburger with all the fixings for him and grilled cheese sandwiches with creamy tomato soup for you.
You grant the woman a quiet thanks and a sweet smile, then take a bite of one of your buttery sandwiches before speaking. "I'd like for the late night texts to stop," you say gently.
Frank's brows knit together and he plops his burger back onto his plate before wiping his hands with a few cheap brown napkins.
"Just...nothing after 9 p.m., okay? It doesn't feel appropriate."
He crosses his arms. "That a rule for all your friends, or just me?"
Him getting defensive took a shorter amount of time than you thought it would. "Frank, I'm not trying to hurt you. It means something to me that I'm someone you feel safe in confiding in, but boundaries have to start being set. The same goes for my breaks. I only get a couple small chances during my workday to decompress for a moment before going back to it, and I prefer not to spend it on the phone. The ED is hectic enough as it is, and not being able to get a breather in because I'm FaceTiming or on a call doesn't help the matter."
A muscle in his jaw ticks. "Anything else?"
"No more pet names." You debate tacking on something about no more in-person meetups as well, but are unsure about it. Ones that're late like this one feel more akin to dates, which you're absolutely not alright with, but being on dayshift... Eating a late meal is really your only option, in terms of going out for food.
Frank rolls his eyes and shakes his head before taking a sip of his Coke.
"I want to be your friend. One who's there for you to confide in, but this is starting to feel like dependency at times. I mean, the night that you spammed me with texts—"
He suddenly slams his hand off the table and it causes the dishes to rattle and you to jump, as well as other customers to glance in your direction.
You sink down in your seat from embarrassment.
"I wasn't myself that night, alright? I was—"
"Using?" you interrupt. "I have to be able to rest for work."
He snorts. "Work, work, work." He deadpans. "Because you really think that place gives a shit about you? That Robby does?"
"Robby is the only reason you were put on leave to get clean instead of having your license revoked as a whole," you say while doing your utmost to keep your tone level. "So, yes, I think it's safe to say that he does indeed care."
He blows a raspberry and your temper climbs another notch from the immature gesture.
"You need to talk to Abby," you say quietly. "She's not the one who did wrong, so the obligation is on you to reach out to her. She's your wife. You have two little ones together. You need to fight for your family. For yourself."
He glares at you for a moment, then picks up his burger again, signaling that the conversation has clearly come to an end.
The remainder of dinner was a silent affair, with you replaying every word you spoke to him on repeat in your head, wondering if maybe you'd been too hard, or had overthought things he's done, and thus had an overreaction. He's delicate right now, isn't he? What if tonight only makes him worse; sends him spiraling? Gives him cause to feel all alone again?
"I really do care about you," you tell him with care. "But I'm not a sponsor—someone who's equipped to know how to handle the throws of addiction. I just...feel overwhelmed at times. I'm terrified I'm going to do or say something, and then you'll get worse and it'll be my fault."
His shoulders loosen, as well as his grip on the steering wheel. "I'm sorry if contact from me has felt excessive. I just... I don't really have anybody else to lean on." Reaching over, he settles a hand atop your knee and gives it a gentle squeeze. "Which is why I need you right now."
You speak once he's returned his hand to the wheel. "The people in NA—"
"They don't know me like you do," he states with a shake of his head. "I mean, how many of them, if I shot them a text at 2 a.m., would've answered right away?"
You knew you made a mistake in doing so.
"You're all I have for the time being. And if Abby follows through with divorce—"
"She won't," you interrupt. "I'm sure she's just saying that because she wants to know that you'll do everything you can to fight for her and the family you've created together."
He shrugs. "Or they'd be better off."
You frown. "None of them will. Tanner and Penny need their father. Abby needs her husband. And PTMC needs its doctor back. Frank, I want to see you succeed in every way possible. But you have to want it for yourself for it to happen."
He clicks on his turn signal and makes a right into PTMC's parking lot. "I just don't know if I can get through the first year, which everyone keeps telling me is the hardest. Just one week is bad enough."
"You're going to fall off the wagon," you say while unbuckling your seatbelt as he pulls up next to your car. "But what counts is whether you make the effort to get back on it."
Once he's parked and switched off the engine, he unbuckles as well, so you stay rooted to the spot incase there's something else he wishes to discuss.
"I just... I need to know that you're not going anywhere. Because some days," he says while turning toward you. "It feels like you're all I have left. I can't..." he extends a trembling hand toward you and cups your cheek tenderly. "Sweetheart, I can't lose you, too."
You swallow thickly, then swipe your bag from between your feet. "Okay, I think I need to get out now."
Dropping his hand, Frank turns and quickly locks your door from his side. "I just need you to listen to me. Five minutes, that's all I need," he explains in a rush of words while leaning over the center console.
You keep your eyes trained on him while sliding your hand along the door behind you in desperate search of the handle. "Frank—"
"Baby, just listen to me."
"H-Have you been using tonight?" you question while reeling back.
"I took a little something before I left the house." He shakes his head while taking your face between his hands. "It's not a big deal. If you just kiss me, you'll know. You'll feel what I do. It's not all in my fucking head, I know it."
You shove against his chest, but it's futile as he continues to lean in closer and closer.
And then you decide to scream. "Let me out! Now! Let me out of the fucking car!" you shout while slamming your bag against his dash. "Unlock the doors, Frank!"
"Fine! Fine! Jesus!"
Turning swiftly around, he clicks to release the locks, and you stumble out of the car a moment later.
He throws himself across the seat you've just vacated. "Listen, I'm sor—"
His apologies are cut short when you slam the door in his face and unlock your own vehicle with violently trembling hands before sinking inside and immediately locking the door behind you.
You don't even bother with your seatbelt before tearing out of the parking lot to race home.
"Hey," a familiar voice croons from behind you while a large palm is pressed to the small of your back.
You shriek and drop everything which was previously cradled in your arms and ready to be stored away in your employee locker and watch as it clatters to the floor. Swinging around with wide, searching eyes, you sigh when you see that it's only Robby.
"You alright?" he asks while kneeling with a groan before scooping up your personal belongings and handing them up to you.
You nod feebly. "Yes. Fine," you reply while hanging up a thin jacket, followed by a small backpack.
Standing again, he crosses his arms, watching as you wrap your stethoscope around your neck. "I come and find you every morning and that's never been your reaction. Hardly seem fine. Somethin' happen last night, or on your way here?"
Him showing concern is enough to open the floodgates you otherwise thought you'd put a pretty solid barricade over last night before going to sleep, which took you rather long to find as you tossed and turned—trying your very best, and subsequently failing, to calm your body's panicked response after earlier events in the evening.
You click your locker shut and shake your head while blinking away tears, because if you open your mouth, all he's getting in response is an ugly cry.
You go to step past, until Robby grabs you gently by the forearm. "Hey, talk to me."
So much for trying.
Burying your face in your hands, you start to cry. Full-on sobbing which wracks through your body and leaves you gasping for air.
Taking you gently into his arms, Robby winds them around you while you burrow into the safety his chest provides.
He presses his lips to the crown of your head and murmurs against it. "What happened, honey? Tell me what's got you so tore up this morning."
You shake your head. "Not here," you mumble while fisting his black scrub shirt in your fists.
"Let me take you somewhere that we can talk privately, then."
Now standing under the bright sun, which is covered only by a few fluffy clouds that float lazily past, you gaze across the city of Pittsburgh in all its bustling glory.
Robby is meanwhile busy watching a video on your phone which was recorded last night on your outdoor camera.
"He was out there for two fucking hours?" he hisses in disbelief before glancing up to you.
You nod. "Maybe he... Maybe he meant to scare me because I jilted him." You shake your head. "I don't know. Like I told you about all the texts and calls, it's not the first time his behavior has bordered on obsessive—"
Robby pushes off the railing. "Sweetheart, we're far past that. This?" He says while shaking your phone before planting it in your palm. "Is stalking."
You pocket the device.
"He tried to force himself on you after you made clear how uncomfortable he's made you, and then he sat outside your house for hours in the middle of the night. I think you have more than enough cause to file a police report at this point."
You shake your head so hard that it makes you dizzy. "No, Robby, I-I can't do that. This isn't him. He's not himself right now, and you know that. It's why you didn't report him yourself." You wave your hand. "Me doing something so drastic and reactionary could jeopardize not just his recovery, but his entire life: his marriage, custody—"
"Well," Robby says with a dramatic shrug. "Maybe he should've considered that before he locked you in his car, and, now, made you fear for your safety in your own home."
You sigh and throw your head back. "I didn't tell you because I wanted to give him a criminal record." You lower your chin. "I just...wanted to confide in someone."
He takes a few small steps forward.
"I want to believe that he's going to beat his addiction and get his life back on track. I have no interest in preventing it. Not when—when he was here—he was so helpful toward me and my education."
"I think you've more than repaid that kindness," he states while crossing his arms. "Don't you?"
Worried that he won't stop until he's pressured you into making a trip down to the local precinct, or at least into talking to Ahmad, you turn on your heel to head in the other direction.
"Alright," he says, yielding to your refusal. "We let it go for now. But if he does it again, then you really need to consider going a step further by filing a report. Otherwise, it's not going to stop. If anything, you'd be putting yourself at risk of things getting worse by allowing him to get away with it."
You shift from one foot to the other. "I'll think about it. In the meantime," you say while turning to head back down. "I packed a bag for a couple nights. I plan to wait a few hours before I book a room because I'm not sure yet, but I may stay at a hotel tonight, just to be safe."
"You shouldn't have to do that," Robby comments while following along behind you.
"Just for a night or two," you reassure.
Once you've opened the door to the stairwell, he holds it in place. "I have a guest room."
You pause, then turn back to him.
"You're more than welcome to use it."
A smile of thanks graces your lips. "I appreciate that, Robby. A lot. But—"
He shakes his head. "No 'buts'. It'll save you a few hundred, and make me feel better by knowing where you are. It's why I have it in the first place. I thought..." he nervously scratches the back of his head. "I thought I'd get use out of it when I got married someday. In-laws, or a bedroom for one my kids. Some place friends could stay if they visited during the holidays."
He doesn't look at you when he attempts a shrug of indifference. Attempts, because you know it bothers him, even if he's trying to pretend otherwise.
His eyes flit to yours. "Tonight after your shift, follow me home and you can crash there. For however long you need."
"This is important to you?" you question, wanting to make sure he doesn't feel somehow obligated to do this. You obviously understand a desire for privacy, especially in the moment, and you don't want to interrupt his.
He cups your cheek while nodding. "This is important to me."
Never ever ever, in your wildest dreams, did you think you'd so much as visit your attending's house, and now here you stand in the guest room right next to his own, turning down the bed after a shower.
You've expended effort to memorize every moment that you've been alone with him tonight. From standing at his back while he unlocked the front door, to taking inventory of his personal living space—which includes a considerable record collection that you pointed out, which he replied to with a humble shrug and a mumbled "Just wish I had more time to listen to 'em"—and even curiously sorting through his soaps in the shower.
It'd felt so intimate holding his razor in your hand before setting it back down and lathering yourself with a washcloth that you couldn't help but think about Robby using on himself.
Now washed and brushed and ready for bed, you're dressed only in panties, socks, and an over-sized t-shirt as you turn down the queen-size bed provided.
You're unaware, but there he stands behind you, leaning against the doorway with a small, satisfied smile which quickly morphs into pursued lips as you bend over to throw the covers back, thus granting him a generous view of your backside before your shirt slips back into place.
"Anything else you need before we both turn in for the night?" he asks quietly.
You turn back to Robby with a smile and a shake of your head. "I think I'm okay. I don't imagine I'll be doing much sleeping, anyway."
He raises a brow of interest. "Oh?"
"I'll probably spend the next few hours battling racing thoughts," you explain. As well as continually checking security cameras on your phone...
Robby considers, but fleetingly. "Would it make you feel safer to sleep next to me instead?"
Just as you're about to slip into bed, you turn back to him. A barrage of thoughts journey through your head in the blink of an eye.
Does he want that for reasons other than just making you feel safe? Why does your safety mean so much to him, anyway? Is he truly hoping you'll say yes? What is this dynamic between you, exactly? Does he see you more like a child, or a woman needing a man's protection? Is sleeping all Robby would intend for the two of you to do?
Of course it is! He doesn't adore you the way you have him since the first day you met. Shameful truth admitted? If roles were shifted, and it was him stalking you, the advances wouldn't be quite so unwanted... But you can't say such a terrible thing. No, it must remain strictly in your head.
"I wouldn't want to keep you up," is your expertly planned reply, whereas your heart and mind are both enthusiastically screaming 'Yes, now's your chance! Screw his brains out! Make him yours at last!'
You busy yourself with fluffing a pillow. "I'd ruin your sleep by tossing and turning all night."
Robby takes a small step forward, causing wooden floorboards to creak beneath his weight. "Rather you do it beside me."
Tossing the pillow back down, you go to speak again to refuse one last time, knowing he's just trying to be kind, until he twines his fingers between your own and tugs you along to his room. "C'mon, you'll feel safer with me sleeping next to you."
He keeps staring at you. Maybe he thinks you don't notice because you're turned onto your back while he's otherwise turned onto his side, but you do. You're aware of everything he does. Constantly.
Even just the whisper of his voice sends your mind afloat and your body abuzz.
Does that make you a stalker? You roll your eyes at the ridiculous thought.
You only spy on him in various trauma bays...sometimes.
"What're you thinking about?" he rumbles.
The fact that you're lying beside me entirely naked, save for a pair of briefs which I wish you'd take off, too.
With an arm thrown over your forehead, you shrug. "Everything."
He chuckles, then slides a hand all the way up your arm that's resting at your side until it's come to settle just under the cuff of your t-shirt. "Sounds like you've got a lot going on in there." A pause. "Any of it about Langdon?"
You nod.
He brushes his thumb over your skin. "You think about him a lot?"
Your brow twitches. "All the time."
His lips tug into a frown. "Is that why, then? That you're trying so hard to protect him? Because you have feelings for him?"
You smile at such a silly thought and shake your head. "No, I don't. I just want to see him succeed as a friend and coworker. He's someone I greatly admired in the ED, and I thought he, Abby, and their children made such a sweet family." You roll your head to the side to look at Robby. "Him, the prestigious doctor, and she the sweet stay-at-home mother with two little ones, a pretty house, and a dog."
"You're a good friend," he whispers.
"Maybe too good," you reply.
"That something you want? A family?"
You nod slowly. "I do. But with our schedules... How our lives revolve around work makes even attempting to find someone difficult. On my days off, the last thing I want to waste my time with is a dead-end first date. So I do literally anything else while telling myself that the right one will come along when he's meant to."
"I thought I'd have one by now," he murmurs. "A wife to come home to. Kids grown up and off to college—living their own lives. Hell, maybe even a grandkid or two... At least on the way."
You turn fully onto your side and he lies his hand between the two of you, which you rest your own atop of. "You could live another fifty years, Robby. You could still have that. I know people think otherwise, but so long as people try to take care of themselves, seventy doesn't have to be that old. You can still have a family; children you get to watch grow up."
He forces a smile, then cups your cheek while brushing the pad of his thumb over the apple of it. "I was jealous, y'know? Of the attention you'd been giving Langdon."
Your brows furrow. "What? Why?"
His smile slowly falters, but the way he's touching you doesn't. "Maybe I thought..." He sighs. "I'm sorry. I don't want to be another superior who crosses a line. That's the reason you're here in the first place."
Is he... Is he coming onto you? You've spent so long continually beating yourself over the head with the thought that he would never so much as glance twice in your direction, and yet here you lie in his bed where he seems unable to not touch you.
"Tell me," you whisper. "Please."
"You're in my house, sweetheart. My bed. What does that tell you about how I feel?"
You're practically buzzing with excitement and eagerness to climb atop him and shower him in affectionate kisses, all while telling him that you'd be more than willing to give him all those things he's seemingly convinced himself that it's too late for him to have now.
You're crazy about him, but if you go off the deep end, you'll scare him away by morphing into Langdon 2.0.
You scoot closer and press your palms against his belly while gently kneading the soft swell of it. "Do you have any idea," you begin breathlessly, since your heart is now pounding. "How elated I was when you invited me to come stay with you?"
A look of surprise paints his aging features. "Really?"
You grin while nodding. You cautiously slide your hand upward, through the smattering of dark hair that covers the planes of his stomach and chest. "All I ever wanted was your attention."
Robby moves his hand to the crown of your shoulder, then down your waist. "You've had it, sweetheart. The whole time."
Sliding your fingers into the coarse, scratchy trimmings of his beard, you can't stop yourself from giggling in exhilaration.
"You're far more interested than I thought," he states while carefully repositioning himself atop you, ready for you to withdraw.
Instead, you spread your legs to grant him plentiful room between them.
You throw an arm around the back of his neck while cupping his cheek in your other hand. "You have no idea," you sigh while lifting your hips, wanting him to undress you.
He leans down and fully settles his weight atop you, and you moan when his belly pushes you further into the mattress. Kissing your cheek, you can't keep yourself from smiling like a love-crazed teenager who's hot for teacher.
"You asked me to tell you," he groans against your ear. "So now it's your turn."
You shudder when he slips a calloused hand beneath your shirt. "What if I ruin it?" you sigh while throwing your calves over his own.
He finally presses his lips to yours. "You won't."
He says that now...
It'll scare him off, and then this perfect moment will be over. You'll lose him before you even have him. Just the thought makes you want to burst into tears.
"I'm scared," you whisper before kissing him back.
"Of?" he inquires while pushing your shirt to just beneath your chin so he can suckle at your nipples.
God, you're in Heaven.
"You stopping. Or...losing you."
He plants a kiss between your breasts. "You won't. So, tell me."
He moves his palm up your forearm before twining his fingers between your own.
Throwing your head back, your eyes flutter closed. "I think I'm in love with you."
His cock stirs, so he hooks a thumb under the waistband of his briefs. "Say that again if you want me inside of you," he rasps.
"I love you," you cry while holding tightly to him.
Robby doesn't even consider protection before sinking between your thighs.
The following morning comes far too early for you both. One time hadn't been nearly enough, so he insisted the two of you keep going until he could no longer maintain an erection. Three orgasms later, and he was finally spent while you lied there crying tears of joy as he leaked out of you and down your thighs.
You'd curled up against his body—literally trying to get as close to him as you possibly could—before drifting into a deep and peaceful slumber.
You had felt so, so safe in his arms and against his brawny chest.
And just as you slipped off to sleep, you could've swore you heard the sentiment returned: I've loved you from the first.
First what you didn't catch. Time you met? Time he looked at you? Spoke to you? All those were on the same day.
You suppose all that matters is that the feeling is returned.
When Robby's alarm sounds, you stir quietly, but don't rise. Neither does he, instead choosing to savor the moment of your limbs twined tightly around his like you're afraid of letting go. When he wakes you, it's with a kiss and an offer of a shared shower. Something you easily accept. Before washing, you stand beneath the hot, steamy water, merely holding yourself to him while telling him over and over again how happy you are.
At least with the water running, you can't make out the tears he sheds.
The two of you manage a discussion on the way to work—in his truck, no less, as he insisted on driving. You had nervously started it by already trying to roll back last night incase he felt regretful because it'd just been the heat of the moment for him. Until he reached across the center console and took your hand while reassuring you that while this may be brand new, and that you may each be unaware of the exact direction that it'll lead, he wants nothing more than to find out along with you.
So you'd held quietly to his hand for the remainder of the ride while your skin tingled from the lingering effects of his touch, including a pleasant ache between your thighs where you'd held him.
A handful of people seem to notice that something is different. At one point, Dana even makes a comment that you seem to be glowing, coupled with a knowing look in Robby's direction, but you had merely smiled and said that maybe it was the good weather.
When Cassie finds Robby staring at you for a moment longer than usual—which is truly saying something—she simply walks away with an amused grin and a playful shake of her head.
Your walking on air is cut short during your afternoon break, however, when you go outside for a bit of respite, only to run smackdab into the unexpected presence of Frank.
"I need to talk to you," he insists while holding tightly to your arms.
You stutter for a reply, but because he's taken you entirely by surprise, your mind is lagging the least bit behind as you pulls you further from the ambulance bay's sliding doors.
"F-Frank, what're you—"
He takes your face between his hands and when your eyes stare into his, which are glossed over with pinned pupils, your heart sinks. "Are you high?" you ask in disbelief.
"Doesn't matter," he mutters with a shake of his head. "I need you and I cannot lose you, okay? You are the only one who sees me. Who gets me. Sweetheart, I love y—"
"Hey!" Robby shouts before gripping him by the back of his t-shirt and tossing him to the side. "You get the hell away from her!"
Shoving you behind him, Robby stations himself squarely between the two of you.
Frank goes to advance toward you again, until Robby shoves him back once again, causing him to stumble. "I cannot believe that you would show up here of all places in this kind of fucking shape, Langdon."
Frank seethes. "Get out of my way. This doesn't concern you, Robby."
You consider making a run for it to get Ahmad to come outside and stop this before something terrible happens.
"You're damn right it does. She told me what you've been up to. Calling at all hours, coming onto her, sitting outside her goddamn house at night?" he asks incredulously. "You can't be that far gone that you think what you're doing is appropriate."
"She's the only thing I have fucking left!" Frank yells while gesturing toward you. "What's the problem, Robby? I have something that you never will? Huh? That it?"
If only he knew...
"Yeah," he says while coming closer with a malicious grin. "I've seen the way you look at her. Pulling her off other cases so she can be with you all day. You just couldn't wait to get me out of the way, could you?"
Keeping one arm behind himself and around your waist, you press yourself against Robby's back in fright.
"If I wanted you gone, Frank, I would've gone to the medical board. But I didn't, did I? Instead, I gave you a second chance. Seeing how that's going, maybe I made a mistake."
He leans in toward him. "You need to think about what means more to you: your family, job, and right to practice medicine, or her. Because you only get to choose one."
Frank's eyes flit to his. "Because if somebody posed the same choice to you, you'd have such an easy time picking. Then again, I guess you don't have to worry about the family part, given that you don't have any to lose." He sneers. "You can't keep me away from her."
"Watch me," Robby spits. "You ever come near her again—you ever put your fucking hands on her again—and I'll destroy what's left of your pathetic life. I'll go to the Medical Board, help her file a protective order, and testify in court on her behalf of how you've given her cause to fear for her safety. That'll put one hell of a wrench in staving off losing custody of your kids, won't it?"
You peek from around him while clutching at his hoody.
Frank tries to reach out to you, but Robby bats his hand away. "Go home, Frank. Get the hell out of here before I call security to have you arrested. Now!"
He takes a small step back, knowing that he's on the losing side. "I'm not giving up on us, baby. I know what I want."
Frank makes a reluctant turn and stumbles his way back to the parking lot.
Once he's out of sight, you collapse in Robby's arms in a heap of regretful sobs, feeling like this is your fault.
After the day of the confrontation, you were forced to change your number because Frank's constant contact became so excessive. He never showed up outside of your house again, at least, nor did he appear at work, much to your relief. So, for awhile you were left in the dark as to what was occurring in his life you'd once been so enmeshed in.
Things become easier before long without the stresses of his sobriety resting upon your shoulders.
With your mind back to focusing strictly on work, the only difficult part of your days becomes unruly patients, and your evenings center wholly around Robby—the center of your world.
You begin spending most nights at his place, until he finally poses the offer you had thought too good for you to ever hear: he wanted you to share his home; his bed; his life.
And you continue lovemaking without the hindrance of prophylactics. You never have a discussion about it, as it's just an unspoken agreement between you.
You're both teased about your longing looks, and lingering touches—by Jack most of all—but...you're both so very happy, so you're willing to take it in stride.
And then there's the inevitable: talk of Langdon returning so many months later.
Robby makes clear to you that he wants to you maintain a healthy distance from him, at least initially until he proves himself worth trusting again, and that if he ever touches you or makes unwanted advances again, you are to report straight to him and he'll take every step necessary to make it stop.
But to Langdon's credit, his return is rather unremarkable. There's awkwardly exchanged glances, but he doesn't trail after you or corner you by the lockers or in the restroom like you worried about the first few days.
The first time he speaks to you is almost two weeks later, in the employee lounge.
"Hey," he says weakly from the table shoved against the left wall.
With a protein shake now in-hand, you turn back to him while nervously eyeing the door. "Hey..."
Flashing his palms, he gestures that he means you no harm. "I wanted to apologize. I mean, I wanted to the first day I got back, but thought maybe I should give it a little while. Let you have your space."
You finger the plastic wrap around the bottle you hold.
"I wasn't myself. Yes, I knew what I was doing, and I knew that it was wrong, but the benzos..." he sighs and shakes his head. "I've been clean for awhile now. Every day is an uphill battle, but that day out in the ambulance bay... It was a wake-up call. I hope you know that it wasn't entirely about you. It was about me being selfish."
You toy with the twist-off cap on the bottle.
"I'm so sorry that I ever scared you. I hate myself for it. For that, for the way I hurt my wife, disrespected my family and myself..."
He glances up to you after studying his hands for a moment. "I don't expect you to forgive me. I don't know that I'm even asking for it. I just wanted to apologize. Try and make amends if I even can at this point. You were there for me at my lowest point and instead of being grateful, I took advantage. I'm so sorry that I did."
You take a small step forward. "Maybe I will in time." You twist the cap all the way off, then tighten it again. "Did you tell Abby?"
He nods. "Everything. I came so close to losing her because of it. But if I'm going to hold myself accountable, then no more lies. Y'know?"
You nod. "I'm glad that it seems like things are on the mend for you."
He nods toward the doorway, where the ED lies. "You, too. I mean about you and Robby." He hangs his head. "I drove you right into his arms, didn't I?"
You chew your lip. "Sorta. It might've happened anyway. At least something good came out of it," you say with a light chuckle.
He lifts his head again and forces a smile. "The two of you seem happy."
"We are," you confirm. "We... We live together now. And we're trying."
His brows furrow. "Trying for..." he nods. "Ah. That."
You turn toward the doorway. "Well, I should probably..."
Just as you're about to step over the threshold, he rises. "Just so you know—"
You turn around.
"It wasn't... The way I felt wasn't entirely due to the drugs."
You frown slightly. "Have you told that to—"
He runs a hand through his black tresses. "She wasn't happy to hear it, I can tell you that much."
You waver on your feet, unsure of how to craft a response.
"I don't know if that makes things better or worse, but it was something I felt like I should let you know."
You force a smile. "Thank you for being honest."
He sits again. "I'll let you get back to it, then."
"See you around," you say with an awkward wave before finally turning to leave.
jack abbot/gf!reader. established situationship turned relationship. nsfw warning. pinv sex, oral f. receiving. miscommunication tropes. noah wyle-ception (iykyk). approx 3k words. unedited.
Today is a bad day.
You've had bad days. You know bad days. Some are easier to stomach than others, but you're tough. Most of the time, you're tough as nails. You can handle the patients, the bad calls, the hard cases. Most of the time.
Today is not one of those days. You're exhausted, beyond exhausted. You've been working eighty-hour weeks forever, because you have no work/life boundaries and obsess over the job. So when you lose two patients back-to-back, and get screamed at by a grown man baby with spit flying from his mouth, and nearly piss yourself because you can't take a goddamn break, you break a little bit. You find the nearest on-call room, storm into it, grab a pillow, and scream like hell. You kick your feet, scream louder, and then freeze when you realize you're very much not alone.
Jack Abbot sits up, smug, mouth twitching. You’re not even sure why he’s here, on day shift, interrupting your moment of zen.
“Well, damn, didn’t know you had that in you, doc,” he teases.
The double entendre isn’t lost on you, but he still wiggles his eyebrows anyway, lips curled into a wry smirk.
“Maybe it’s an indictment of your skills, Dr. Abbot,” you huff.
“Ouch,” he says, sitting up.
“Look, I’m really not in the mood, Jack. Why are you even here?”
His brow furrows. “Hand off ran late, and Robby needed back-up. Figured I’d nap until my shift. You okay?”
You shake your head. Pinch the bridge of your nose. “Yes. No. I don’t know. I don’t know!”
“You want your boyfriend or your attending?” Jack asks, tilting his head to the side.
You’re disoriented by the ease with which he says it. Boyfriend. You’ve been skating by without labels, and he just dropped a massive committed label like it didn’t hold any weight.
“I don’t know.”
“Okay.” He grabs your hand, tugging you down to the bed. The mattress dips. His calloused hands find your cheekbones, framing your face. He takes an exaggerated breath, his gaze searing. “Come on, baby. Eyes on me. Just breathe in. That’s it… now out.”
He coaches you through it, a few more deep breaths. He knows how to make your world slow down, always has. Sometimes you get so worked up, your mind moving too fast, and Jack is always there to bring you back down to earth.
“Better?”
You nod.
“You want me to take the night off? We can order in, crack open a bottle of wine,” he suggests. His thumb brushes across your cheek, reverent and sweet.
“I’ve only got two hours left. I’ll be fine. You don’t need to call out because of me.”
“Leg’s been hurting me anyway,” he tells you. You’re not sure if it’s true, or if it’s just him trying to make you feel better. Probably a bit of both. The phantom pain causes him aches, and after some long, long shifts, the prosthetic is just dead weight he drags along with him. More than once, you’ve taken a bath together after a sixteen-hour shift. Even when he’s the one suffering, he massages your shoulders.
God, you think you might even love him. Even though you really shouldn’t. Even if it’s a bad idea to sleep with your attending, and worse to then fall in love with him. You can’t help yourself. He does all these soft things that act as a soothing balm on your soul. He’s so tender and kind and perfect.
But he’s a doctor. That’s the job. Treat people with compassion and do no harm. You’re not special just because you’ve slept together, and you have to remember that. Especially when your heart starts getting the wrong idea.
"Hey," Jack says your name again. "Come back. I'm right here."
"I should get back to work," you say, because the way he's looking at you is going to split you open, and he'll see everything inside you, all your mushy-gooey, half-hopelessly-in-love feelings. "The student doctors are helpless."
"You were a student doctor not too long ago."
"Which is why I know," you retort, flatly. "I'll see you later."
It comes across as more flippant than you mean for it to be. After all, you're shooting for casual, but your body doesn't get the memo. You're high-strung and defensive, terrified of all the emotions you'd normally keep shoved deep, deep down.
"When?" Jack presses.
Your hand hovers over the door handle. "What do you mean?"
"When am I gonna see you?" he asks. "Tonight?"
"I don't know—"
"Did I do something wrong? I mean, I know I'm new at this whole dating thing, but I didn't upset you, did I?"
Dating. Dating. Dating. The blood whooshes in your ears.
"Hey," he says. "Would you just—"
Your pager goes off at the same time the Code Blue gets called for your patient in Trauma One. The one you just got stabilized, whose family still tore into you when you gave them good news. One patient survived. But the fact that it was only one is entirely your fault, and not the drunk driver's responsibility, or the medics who intubated him incorrectly. That weight is pressing into you as the alarm goes off and your pager screams in your pocket.
You run. Like the devil's on your heels, or you're escaping a fire. You haul ass to be the first one there, beating out the other doctors and med students. Suddenly, you're grateful for your marathon training, but you don't get time to ruminate.
You code the patient for five minutes, and wind up wrist-deep in his chest cavity to staunch the internal bleeding. By the time Garcia takes over, you're breathless and sweaty, and the prognosis is terrible as they wheel him into the OR. He'll be lucky to make it through the night.
You don't see Abbot again after that. When your shift is over, and you've waded through your charts until your vision blurs and the letters become alphabet soup, you head out to your car and pray for a second wind to carry you home. Otherwise, you'll be the next ER patient.
You drop your keys when you see him.
Jack's leaning against your car, blocking the driver's side. "Hey."
"Hi," you say, your voice small. Thin. Tears prickle at the corners of your eyes, and you can't stop them this time. They slip down over the apples of your cheeks, and then your mouth splits open into a sob.
"Oh, kid," he coos. "C'mere."
You let him hold you. Because you love him, and he's there, and even if it won't last and it's probably doomed, you want this memory to hold onto for a little longer.
You eventually let him pry your keys from your sweaty fist and tuck you into the passenger seat of your own SUV. Let him smooth the hair out of your face and drive you home. He gets you a milkshake from a drive-thru and orders your favorite without asking, and then watches you eat to make sure you finish your food. He doesn't make you talk about it. He doesn't judge you for the tremble in your uneasy fingers.
He knows his way around your place a little too well, you realize. As he disappears into your bathroom, running the shower, you notice he's navigating without turning on a light. You follow him into the restroom, watching the mirror fog over with steam.
"You gonna ask me to join you?" He teases you gently, but there's a seriousness underlying the words, like he wants to make sure you know there's an option.
"Join me," you say.
He grins. "Atta girl."
You'll never get tired of watching Jack undress. Every movement is fluid, and the muscle ripples under his skin in a tantalizing wave. He's got freckles on his shoulders that don't fade in the winter, his battle scars, the wrinkles on his face—they all come together perfectly. To make this man you can't help but love.
You strip off your scrubs piece by piece, and so does he. Your panties pool at your ankles, and he unclasps your bra when you turn around. He installed a bench in your shower for you weeks ago, after you slipped while shaving your legs. As he shucks off his prosthetic, bracing himself on your shoulder, you're glad he did.
He washes your hair, slowly and methodically. Then he scrubs your back, following the curve of your spine, lingering just above your ass, which you know he's obsessed with. More than once, he's nipped at it playfully when he has you on your stomach, a pillow shoved under your hips as he takes you from behind.
It's not the first shower you've taken together, but it feels different tonight. More intimate.
After, he sits down on the closed lid of the toilet, a towel wrapped low on his hips. You brush your teeth, and he uses the spare from his duffel. He gives you an extra shirt from his go bag, like he keeps one handy just for you.
Everything about it feels so practiced. You wonder when it became like this: a routine between the pair of you, a language only you can speak. How you never noticed it before is beyond you.
As he reaches for his metal leg again, you place a hand on his wrist.
"I have spare crutches," you say. "Swiped them from the lost and found forever ago."
"You stole crutches for me?" he asks, brows raised.
"Not for you. In case of emergency."
He chuckles. "This isn't an emergency."
"You said it hurts," you reply.
He nods, leaving the prosthesis off. You retrieve the crutches from the coat closet in the hall, and he gratefully takes them.
The pair of you head into your bedroom. It's not like there's much space in your shoebox apartment full of books and stuffed to the brim with knick-knacks, but he's never complained about how small it is before. He knows you prefer your space, that you don't like sleeping in a bed that isn't yours. He's mastered the art of deciphering your idiosyncrasies, all the things that make you tick, how you think, the look you get when you're lost in space and thinking too hard.
"Sorry about the mess," you say, as you climb into your bed, the TV on with the volume low. The channel is set to reruns of some medical drama you both like to find the flaws in. ER is a favorite, mostly because Dr. Carter reminds you of Robby.
"I don't mind it," he replies. "The only reason mine isn't a wreck is that I have a housekeeper."
"You have a maid?"
Jack shakes his head. "Jesus, no. Just a lady who runs a cleaning service I treated a few years back. She gives me a nice discount in exchange for saving her life. Not that I asked for one. Every time I try to pay her more, she smacks me with a broom."
It's so Jack, that story. Your chest aches.
"You could move in with me," he suggests.
You scoff.
"I'm serious."
Your brows pinch together. "Jack—"
"What do you think we're doing here, baby?" he asks. "Hm? Because after I lost my wife, I thought I was done. Thought I didn't have anything left to give, anything left to love and then you..." Your breath hitches, his fingers curling around your chin and drawing your gaze up to his. "You happened."
"I guess I just figured this was casual. We never discussed it. You never asked to be exclusive." The moment you say it, you feel ridiculous. Defining the relationship is so Gen Z of you, and that age gap, the one that's never felt very big because of your mind, because of his wildness, suddenly strikes you. Fifteen years is a long time. What if he thinks you're childish for wondering about it?
He laughs. A real, belly laugh. "I know I'm old-fashioned, but from the moment I kissed you, I was yours. Didn't think I had to ask."
"Oh."
"The guys at the VA, the ones I do therapy with, volunteer with? They ask about my girlfriend all the time. And yeah, we keep it quiet at work, but Robby razzes me all the time about it off the clock. I'm yours, and maybe I haven't been the best at showing it, but that's where I'm at."
"I'm yours too."
He smirks. "I know."
"Jack," you murmur.
"Christ, you impossible woman, you gonna tell me you love me or not?"
"I love you," you tell him, and it's the easiest thing in the world.
"So move in with me."
"I'll think about it."
You squeal as he snakes a strong arm around your waist, flipping you onto your back and under him. His eyes are piercing yours, hazel and endless. A giggle escapes as his nose brushes yours.
"I love you, Doctorpedia," he says, using the nickname Santos has been calling you forever. "So let me wake up with you every day. Hell, I'll move in here, I don't care. So long as I got you."
You kiss him as your answer, and then he kisses you back, deeper, hotter. He nips at your bottom lip and uses it as leverage to deepen the kiss when you gasp. His tongue, wicked and sweet, pushes into your mouth and glides against yours, and he catches your moan between his teeth.
"My girl in my shirt," he groans, kissing your neck, tracing your throat. "Look at you, pretty baby."
His hand slides under the hem, splayed across your belly, and you're so aware of his touch, how close his fingertips are to the underside of your breasts or the waistband of your panties. You're glad you skipped pajama pants, because his skin on yours as your legs tangle together is enough to annihilate you.
"Jack," you whimper, as his hand slides up, cupping one of your tits. His thumb tweaks your nipple, rough and calloused, and you arch your back into his hand.
"Want something?" he asks, knowing exactly what he's doing to you. "Hm? Use your words, baby."
"Please," you say.
"Please, what?"
You blush, and he grins, kissing your cheeks one at a time. His hand continues to stroke your nipple, squeezing your breast as your nerves catch fire.
"Please, what?" he says again.
"Please fuck me."
"Impatient, are we?"
You nod, biting your lip. Your hand finds his boxers, where his cock, half-hard and twitching, is straining against the fabric. He catches your wrist with his free hand, shaking his head.
"Nah, I wanna take my time," he decides. "Need to remind you why living together is a damn good idea."
He rolls the hem of your shirt up, and you lift your arms for him. It falls away, wadded up somewhere in the abyss of your room. His comes next, but you don't get the chance to look at him before he's dipping his head, placing his mouth to your nipple, swirling his tongue around the bud, and grazing it with his teeth just so. You writhe, desperately chasing relief in your aching, fluttering pussy. He just hums as he kisses his way to your other breast, closing his lips around that nipple too. You push up against him, hips grinding, humping the air like it could give you relief.
"Dirty little thing," he remarks. "Need it that bad, huh?"
You nod. "Jack, please—"
He spanks your pussy over your underwear, and the zing! it sends through your nervous system feels like an electrical current. You're soaked, and he knows it, running two fingers across your clothed seam.
"Jack," you whimper again. "Jack, please—"
He dives under the blanket, hiking your knees up and over his shoulders, and you barely have a second to process what's happening before he's got your panties shoved to the side and his tongue lapping at your folds. You nearly fly off the bed, but his grip on you tightens, drawing you back against his mouth. He traces every part of your pussy with light kisses, working you over with the ghost of his breath where you need him most.
Finally, finally, he sucks your clit, and you cry out so loudly the neighbors might hear it. He laps and suckles at your sensitive bundle of nerves, his fingers, steady, doctor's fingers, crooking inside your cunt, your greedy pussy sucking him in. He scissors them just right, the pressure of his mouth and fingers just enough to make you implode.
The first time you come, he enjoys it with a chuckle, but he doesn't let up, doesn't stop. No, he keeps lapping and teasing and finger-fucking you until you're swollen and sensitive and digging your fingers into his salt-and-pepper curls for purchase.
When his lips find yours again, his chin is soaked with you. You taste yourself on his tongue, one hand yanking his boxers just enough to free his heavy cock and balls. He kicks them off the rest of the way before sliding his hot length against your folds, collecting your slick want on his shaft. He's long and thick, and even with two orgasms under your belt, you know he'll split you open, fuck the thoughts out of your head.
"Please," you whisper.
"I love you," he says, and then he sheathes himself completely inside of you.
You feel him all the way to your cervix, his balls snug against your ass, every inch of him so deep inside you it blinds you with pleasure. His hand falls low again, to your belly, and as he rolls his hips slowly, feeling you around him, he grins. You know he likes the way your belly bulges when you take him, and the pressure of his touch takes you apart. As he starts to fuck you, properly, his thumb slips to your clit, rubbing it in time with each thrust. You're trembling, incoherently moaning as he pile-drives you into the mattress, whispering in your ear.
"So perfect f'me, baby. That's it. That's a good girl. That's my girl. Love you, love you so much. Gonna come for me, baby? Gonna come all over my cock? Hm? Milk me dry with that pretty pussy? Give it to me. That's it, that's it—"
You come so hard you gush around him. Ever since he discovered you could squirt, he's made it his mission to make it happen a thousand times since, and you might black out for a moment, stars in your eyes, your heart in his hands. He fucks you through it, closer and closer to the edge.
"Gonna stuff you full and fill you up," he grunts. His words are getting sloppier now, just like each thrust of his cock all the way up to your womb. "Maybe one of these days I'll knock you up too. Make you a Mama. Get you walkin' around the Pitt with my baby, so everyone knows you're mine."
"Yours," you gasp. "Yours. Jack—"
He spills deep inside of you, hot ropes of his cum painting your gummy walls white. You kiss him as he stills on top of you, whispering his love for you in careful breaths.
Eventually, when the blissed-out haze fades a bit, he retrieves some baby wipes from the nightstand, cleaning you up, redressing you, and reminding you to pee before you get a UTI. Then, after, he refills your water bottle, kisses your forehead, and holds you as you watch medically inaccurate TV reruns from the 90s.
You never sleep alone after that. You also stop bothering to hide your relationship from the others at the Pitt, and McKay wins the day shift betting pool immediately after your hard launch.
🖤 Aries in the 1st house directly indicates that it will be a very eventful and active year. With this rising sign, or the presence of Aries in the 1st house, the essence of its ruling planet, Mars, propels you to prioritize yourself and be more decisive, staying aligned with what you truly desire. You will move with greater independence throughout the year, driven by a desire to reclaim control of your life and spurred on by the desire to stop trying to please others. You will be more willing to take necessary risks and will have experiences that will reinforce your capacity for spontaneity. The feeling of not doing things or of constant rest can cause frustration, so it's crucial to strike a balance between using your energy on things you see as worthy of your time and giving yourself the chance to recharge that energy.
🖤 As a sign of movement, Aries' presence in the 2nd house serves as an impetus to step outside your comfort zone and shed anything that compromises your true self. The independence inherent in this sign manifests in the pursuit of stability through your own merit, which can lead to new ventures, new jobs, or a new strategy for managing your finances. Being a sign that prioritizes the relationship with oneself, its presence in this house indicates ongoing work throughout the year on self-esteem, as well as seeking to align with values that genuinely connect with you and that have not only been inherited.
🖤 In the 3rd house, whether on the cusp or as an intercepted sign, the essence of Mars will help you communicate more directly and clearly. As mentioned, tact is advisable, as it may reflect frequent arguments and disagreements with those around you, especially if you feel they want you to think a certain way. Aries here activates your mind and may lead you to begin learning about a topic that has piqued your interest. This learning doesn't remain purely theoretical, as being ruled by Mars encourages you to learn through direct practice. The active nature of Mars, by the way, may lead you to take many short and/or solo trips this year.
🖤 With Aries in the IC or 4t house, we see the drive to reconnect with your alone time, making this a year in which you can find great comfort by using your energy and free time on yourself. As another way to achieve greater emotional comfort, being true to yourself and detaching from family expectations may be recurring themes throughout this year. Representing new beginnings, this manifests directly in the area of home, whether it's becoming independent, moving out, starting your own family, and in some cases, it may suggest pregnancy for you or someone close to you. This house is related to emotional bonds, so Aries here can represent established boundaries, especially with your family.
🖤 Seeing it in the 5th house can predict a reconnection with your inner spark, that is, the feeling of enjoyment derived from simply being yourself. Ruled by Mars, it reflects a search for pleasure and personal satisfaction; you'll pay attention to what you truly desire this year and follow paths that lead to having a good time. Its connection to creativity may suggest the start of a creative project and/or immersing yourself in a hobby you're passionate about. As this is also a house of romance, this area of your life may be stirred, and it could even foreshadow the arrival of someone new. As advice, be clear about what you truly seek in a relationship, as flings or fleeting encounters may be common.
🖤 The 6th house is activated and energized by Aries' stay, which can indicate, beyond a large amount of physical and mental energy, the beginning of new habits and activities to use it up. Now, while Aries here shows us this, there's a risk of jumping between projects, hobbies, or habits, as interest is likely to wane; the key is to choose activities that have special meaning and a direct connection to you. As for the work environment, it may become competitive this year (arguments and tension could be likely too), or we may even see the possibility of a new job or position. Taking into consideration the health aspect, headaches, injuries such as scrapes or accidental bumps can be common during this period.
🖤 Regarding relationships with others, Aries in the 7th house will drive you throughout the year to seek out and cherish connections where people are clear about what they want and that respect your individuality and boundaries you set. Therefore, anything that doesn't align with this will only frustrate you and make you walk away from it. Keeping in mind the key word for Aries (beginnings), we can see that this year new people are likely to enter your life, even in some cases, people who move too quickly for your liking (committing too fast, for example). This can also show the start of a serious relationship or one you envision for the long term. It's important to remember this house's connection to legal matters, so if anything leads to legal issues, these can be expedited and facilitated (this is enhanced if Neptune in Aries is not yet in the 7th house).
🖤 When Aries is in the 8th house, it reveals events throughout the year that can lead to a path of personal transformation, often beginning with becoming aware of aspects of yourself that you keep hidden or don't express with the freedom and intensity you'd like. Because these energies possess great inner strength, we see the beginning of reconciliation with your energy and essence by finally accepting and listening to those sides of yourself that were screaming to be taken into account. This can manifest as the decision to let go of relationships or situations to which you felt dependent or that drained much of your energy.
🖤 When we see Aries in the 9th house, we can see a search for truth, beginning with a deep desire for self-knowledge, self-discovery, and the development of independent judgment. You won't want to live in the realm of imagination and "what ifs"; you'll want to experience reality, explore, and dare to embark on journeys and new paths. And yes, long journeys are quite likely with this placement. The association of this house with higher education indicates the probability of starting a master's program, deepening your knowledge in a specific subject, or beginning university life. Impulsiveness can be very common with Aries here, so analysis and careful thought before acting are crucial.
🖤 Aries in the 10th house indicates greater decisiveness and ambition in the professional world, as well as a willingness to move forward, get higher positions, and focus on progress to overcome any feeling of stagnation. Your work life will bring a lot of activity; it can get quite busy and involve many responsibilities and decisions that you will make yourself. If you decide to change course, this year could align you with a profession that truly inspires you. Starting individual projects or entrepreneurial ventures is likely and advisable during this period. Leadership opportunities are likely to come quick given Mars ruling this house. Keep on mind that growth comes at its own pace, so don’t demand excessively from yourself.
🖤 As this house is associated with aspirations, with Aries in the 11th, opportunities will arise to turn your desires into reality. You'll begin to look toward the future, making the necessary decisions to become the person you want to be. In your social life, you're likely to meet new people and allow yourself to let in those who weren't previously part of your circle. At the same time, you may distance yourself from friendships that you feel are holding you back or that don't respond favorably to your progress. You'll tend to prefer working independently, and teamwork may not be very satisfying unless you're given a certain degree of freedom or authority. Its relationship with income + Aries suggests the flow of money and quick incomes.
🖤 Finally, its presence in the 12th house shows us that one of the challenges throughout the year is the tendency to doubt yourself and sabotage yourself because of it. Energy abounds, as does the desire to act, but it is these same insecurities that lead you to suppress the urge to carry out projects or make certain decisions. This repression expands, attempting to force anger and impulses to remain hidden, when, in fact, the key is to move through them and find ways to express them (art and spirituality, being themes of this house, can be of great help in this). It shows the beginning of healing processes or strategies, as well as the courage and strength to confront issues or wounds that have been accumulating in past years.
His breath is hot against the nape of your sweat sheened neck, his hand resting in a hotter, tighter grip around the front base of your throat. His low, almost pained groans fall into your ear like the stream of a lazy river, ever present and melodic in an urgent rhythm.
His hips match the same urgent but deliberate tempo, rushed but thoughtful, primal yet purposeful. He’s fucking into you with no restraint, nearly folding you in half with your ass flush against his hipbones and cock buried in you beyond the hilt, stuffing you full of him. He fucks you like it’s a necessary evil, a means to an end that will never come. Almost believing that if he takes as much as he can from you now, he won’t ever have to crawl back into your arms or between your legs ever again. But you both know that won’t ever be the case. At least not any time soon.
He hates needing you as much as he does, which is at all. He hates how you make his cock rock hard and drool with pre just from catching a whiff of your perfume out in the wild, or how something as simple as seeing your favorite color somewhere makes the blood rush to his cock like a knee jerk reaction. Anything that has to do with you leaves him feeling stuck in some kind of haze inducing whirlwind, it's infuriating.
Nothing feels innocent anymore, not when his brain is a landfill full of lewd depravity. He hates that he can't seem to just be normal, that seeing your favorite color does nothing but remind him of the way you look sprawled out in his bed, adorned in nothing but his favorite pair of panties that you only seem to wear when you haven't seen him in awhile. He views the sight as if it were a special, unspoken treat for him and him only.
But what he really loves about it is how your arousal always seems to soak through the crotch of your panties and splotch over the gusset, making it a shade darker than the rest of the material. He thinks that it’s quickly becoming his secret favorite color.
And he's aware of how fucked up that is, how fucked up it all is - and that he should be disgusted with himself, revolted that he’s taking advantage of a girl as young as you. You're damn near walking jailbait. A girl as young as his daughter. A college girl with her life ahead of her, a girl who shouldn’t be anywhere near a man like him.
But he can’t bring himself to hold back, no matter how much everything in him tells him that he should. He can't ever seem to pull away from you, especially not now, while you're gripping onto the forearm he has locked under your breasts while he fucks you from behind. You're squeezing his toned arm with your soft hands for dear life, holding onto him like he’s your anchor of safety when he’s anything but.
The way you press yourself back up against him drives him crazy, as if the millisecond of him pulling out just to thrust right back in is a millisecond too long for you to bear without being fully impaled on his cock. The way you need him is a new type of addiction he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to kick.
And when he slips his hand from under your breasts and down between your sticky thighs to rub your clit, he chuckles a dark and lazy laugh into your neck. He’s breathless as he kisses the glistening skin there, feeling you gasp and tense up in his arms from the way he’s toying with your clit.
“Watch.” is all he says into the warm crevice of your shoulder, placing another kiss upon the skin there before he grabs your jaw and points your gaze up towards the bathroom mirror, slamming hard into you just to watch your face contort and brows draw up so prettily, bitten lips dropping open with a drawn out whimper.
“I love you,” you cry, nearly sobbing on his cock, babbling what he considers to be nonsense as he fucks you. His teeth fall hard into each other, his hand trembling imperceptibly between your grinding thighs. He’s quick to recover and continues rubbing your little clit with mind numbing circles, trying his best to not be thrown off with your sudden declaration.
He doesn’t want to accept the possibility that you actually mean it, that you could feel anything for someone like him besides surface level lust. And he especially doesn’t want to acknowledge that he might feel anything beyond that either.
So he doesn’t. He just grunts and bends you over completely into the sink, holding you tight and firm with one hand clamped shut over your mouth while the other circles hard over your clit. Your rising sounds lay muffled in his palm, your eyes squeezed shut as you lay there bent and nearly bred full of him, trying desperately to fuck yourself onto his pulsing cock.
“F-fuck,” he stutters, collapsing on top of you and swallowing your figure whole with his broad back curling over yours, shoving his cock as deep as it could possibly go inside you, pumping you full of his cum. He thrusts a few times, shallow and slow, using your tight cunt to milk himself of everything he’s got.
Once he’s pulled out and cleaned the cum that came dribbling out your well used hole, he dresses you, gentle and delicate unlike the way he handled you only moments prior. Before he can say anything, or even pull you in close for a delicate embrace to counteract the way he had just ravaged you, something cuts him off.
“Babe? Where are you?” the voice belonging to your boyfriend calls out from a distance, blissfully ignorant to what you had just participated in. He’s barely audible with how far away he seems to be, but much to your dismay, you’re able to hear him loud and clear. You can hear the beckoning calls for your name, innocent and unaware, and you can feel the guilt begin to manifest itself inside your chest all over again.
The sound of his voice additionally triggers your awareness of how the already sensitive mood between you and the man looming above you has begun to grow sour and awkward, thick with something uncomfortably palpable. And that’s how you know it’s time to go.
So you do, begrudgingly of course. You sigh quietly, leaning up on your toes to press one last kiss to his cheek, your hand resting against his chest, pretending to not notice the way his heart hammers into your palm as you do so.
“I’ll see you later.” you whisper, before pushing past him to exit the bathroom and re-enter your best friend’s birthday party once more, leaving him alone and filled with the post clarity of accepting the fact that he just got done fucking his daughter’s best friend on her birthday.
Father of the year, isn’t he?
SUGURU GETO, Erwin Smith, Leon Kennedy, JOEL MILLER, Modelo!Yuji Itadori, Jean Kirstein, Satoru Gojo, JOSEPH JOESTAR, Jotaro Kujo, Jack Abbot, MICHAEL ROBINAVITCH, Ethan Winters, Mikey Berzatto, Reiner Braun, RICK GRIMES, Nanami Kento, Kakashi Hatake, Leone Abbacchio, Tangerine, Miche Zacharius, All Might, LEORIO PALADIKNIGHT, CHARLIE SWAN, and your favorite husband!
a/n : hiii i couldn’t stop listening to dark but just a game n out came this :P hope yall liked it <3
Hello! Sorry if this is sent too early in which case I guess save it for the appropriate time. I just saw your rules for the request.
Anyways- Maybe a MC who knows it's TT's bday and is being really helpful and obedient. They take a few more jobs around the circus than usual (don't have to go into detail here & assuming they're already up to date with things) and finally when the night falls and the circus closes, they invite him over for a one on one hangout in their home.
They offer him a backrub with fancy lotion of a scent they know TT will like and some homemade baked Brazilian pineapple (Pineapple cooked with cinnamon apples and sugar. You don't have to go into the details of actually making it.) and things may get a little suggestive... (If you're comfortable with it )
This is late, apologies on this! 😭 And this came out longer than expected but hope you still like it. lol Thank you for the request! 💙
You woke up earlier today than usual. Getting ready with ease, trying to pump yourself up for a busy work day ahead.
Usually working in the circus now was a breeze for you, you were used to your tasks. But today was a special day, it was Ticket Taker birthday. And you wanted to do your best to make it a great and easy day for him.
You performed and finished your tasks well and at record time, even while Harlequin tried to distract you during them all.
Then after a needed small break to recover your energy. You headed to find more stuff to do for others, especially for Ticket Taker.
He noticed you were more chipper than usual. But didn't comment on it. As long as you were doing your work well, and seemed fine, then he had no great concerns.
After another successful night for the circus, and all was properly shut down and closed for the night. And you were able to run back home to do some final preparations for what you had planned tonight. You headed to Ticket Taker tent to talk to him, hoping your plan on mind would work.
Even though he took care of his tasks for the day, and more thanks to your help. He still was able to find new stuff to work on as you found him at his desk, busy flipping through some papers, signing stuff. Clearly focused on work again.
"What can I assist you with, my dear?" He asked before you could speak as you entered his tent. Not lifting his head up from the papers he was reading.
"Um...I just...was wondering if you'd like to come back home with me for tonight, to spend some time together?"
He paused in his actions, finally looking up at you. "A odd request...For what's the occasion?"
"Well...It wouldn't be a surprise if I told you." You said with a nervous smile.
"I'm not quite fond of surprises. You know that. Best to be direct about it, then I'll give you my answer over your question."
You should of expected this, sighing softly as you prepared to give out the surprise. "I wish for us to spend the night together for your birthday."
He was quiet after hearing that, then he set his pen down on the desk and leaned back in his seat. "Just the two of us? Quite a bold request. With how you worded, it it almost sounds as if you're asking me out on a date."
"...And if it was?" You felt more nervous now as your heart started to race.
He picked up on the sound of your heart beating fast, finding amusement from it. "Then I'll say you are quite foolish...But brave to ask."
He looked back at the work before himself. Perhaps a break would be best to re-energize himself...But leaving the circus at such a hour. He knew Jester and the others will be fine, but yet he still worried to leave them alone.
"I'll talk to Jester about this, then I'll get back to you with my answer."
"Oh...Okay." You looked a little disappointed but you understood.
After putting away the work he was currently working on, he rose up from his seat and started to walk out of his tent. "Stay and wait here until I arrive back."
"Yes sir."
You did as you were told, and waited for his arrival back. It didn't take him long to return, as he was now in his human disguise. A clear sign he got the OK to leave, and he was ready to go.
"I take it you don't have much in your home to eat, do you?" He said as he fixed his tie.
"Actually, I bought some groceries for tonight, and more stuff maybe we can use." Your voice trailed off from the last thing you added, making him raise a brow in suspicion.
"Very well. Let's go shall we?" He gestured you to walk first out of his tent, as he followed behind. Then you both started to walk to your home together side by side.
The walk was quiet, peaceful, but you couldn't deny feeling some awkwardness in the moment. Though for Ticket Taker, the silences was perfect to him.
Once you both arrived, you instantly tried to be a good host by offering to take his coat, etc. He accepted your offer, pleased by this hospitality of yours.
He then took quick notice of how clean your home was, more than usual. Everything was in order, you even had a table set up to serve dinner on he suspected.
"Do you want to eat first or...?"
"I had no plans to eat tonight." He admitted. "However, I suspect you cooked something by both how the table is set up...and that aroma in the air. So it would be rude of me to say no at this point I feel."
He smelled something sweet, and familiar.
"Guilty." You chuckled a little as you walked over the oven, then pulled out a pan of baked Brazilian pineapples. "I...I hope they are alright. Pierrot taught me how to cook them but this is the first time I made them on my own."
You gently set the pan on the table, and served a few pieces on a plate for Ticket Taker to try.
He took a seat at the table, accepting the plate with a small "Thank you". He looked at the plate, the smell stronger, as it instantly brought back memories of his past and home land.
Though as he was lost in thought, you stared at him, waiting for him to try it. Finally after snapping himself back to reality, he grabbed a fork and took a piece to try it.
Your heart was racing as you waited for his response. Then he finally looked at you and spoke. "It taste lovely, my dear. I appreciate this very much. Thank you."
You smiled with both joy and relief to hear that, then quickly walked back to the oven to pull something else out. "I also baked muffins!" You said with a smile as you displayed a pan of freshly baked muffins.
He blinked at their reveal, then gave a smile in response. "You seem to know me well."
"Not too well, but I'm learning. Would you like tea or coffee with them?"
"Coffee. You know how I prefer it." You nodded and quickly went to work to get his coffee prepared and served.
Once you gave it to him, you took a seat down at the table, and you both happily ate together for a moment in silence. Until you both felt full or satisfied enough to continue on with other activities.
"And what exactly do you have planned for us tonight? I'm certain it wasn't just to make me embrace my gluttony side, correct?"
"C-correct...But...Could you come to the living room with me?" He raised a brow in curiosity, then nodded as he got up from his seat, then walked to the living room with you.
"That seat with no back, can you sit there please?"
He stared at you for a moment. "Depends, why that seat specifically?"
"It'll be easier to do it if you sit on it."
"Do what exactly? Being vague isn't something I'm fond with, you know."
"R-right...I...I guess I should ask for your permission on this though." You took a deep breath in, before speaking. "May I give you a back rub?"
His eyes widened at your request, and he took a moment to process your question before responding. "A back rub does sound nice to have right now. Very well, you may."
He walked to the seat you asked him to sit on as he removed tie, and unbutton his shirt a little to give himself more freedom to breathe and relax.
Instantly your heart skipped a beat as you watched him, wondering if he was just doing it that way by habit, or on purpose to tease you.
Once he was seated, he waited for you to begin. You felt nervous now as his back was faced to you, as he stared ahead, quiet and motionless.
"Just take it slow, and don't forget to breathe." He told you, making you blush.
"I--I know! I just--Just tell me if it hurts or feels wrong, okay?"
"I will." He said without missing a beat. Then you finally placed your hands on his shoulders. Lightly starting to knead and massage his shoulders. He let out a slow breath in response, and you were hoping he'll relax but he still felt stiff and tense.
"You're stressed..." You commented.
"It'll be unusual for me not to be."
"Right..." You forced a small chuckle in response, but knew there was nothing funny about it. You only felt sad over it and over him. Though tried to focus on giving him a proper massage.
You felt him shift a moment, as something you did made him react. Then you gave that spot more attention, as he lightly hummed. "Don't be scared to press a little harder."
"I...Okay...Just...Feel like it's difficult to do it with your shirt on."
He was quiet for a moment, motionless...Then he started to move to unbutton and remove his shirt.
"W-wait what are you--" Before you could finish your sentence, he was now shirtless, making your face red in response.
"Is this better?"
"Y-yes but...Is it fine to you?"
"What do you mean?" He turned to look at you.
"I...I know how you truly look like. You can...be in that form instead, if you prefer it."
He was silent as he stared at you, then he reached a hand out, grabbing your wrist. "Are you certain you wish to both see and touch me in that form?"
You stared at him, then nodded your head once to say yes.
He gazed into your eyes for a moment, then closed his eyes as he slowly started to change his form to the monster he truly was. Instantly he grew in height and size, then he sat back down.
"Continue." He ordered this time.
"D-do you mind if I use lotion? I promise, you'll like it...I hope..."
"Yes, you may. If anything, I would recommend it now."
You smiled and grabbed a bottle of lotion with a scent you were hopefully certain he'll like. He instantly picked up the pleasant scent as you applied some to your hands, then rubbed them together to spread it nice and evenly. Then you finally got back to work as you started to massage him, with better effort this time.
Instantly he shuddered at the feeling of your hands on him, and he felt himself growing more relaxed as you massaged his back. Then he started to slowly lean in into your touch.
"Hmm...Perhaps I should make you do this more often." He said in a soft low tone. His eyes closed as he enjoyed the special attention given to him.
"If you'd like it. I'd be happy to do this and more for you."
He opened his eyes. "More?" He pulled away from you, turning his body around to look at you again. "What more can you do for me? Tell me?"
He sounded more serious as he kept his eyes fixed on you. Scanning your every movement, expression change, reaction...and listening closely to your heart.
He wanted to hear it beat faster.
"I...I uh...Perhaps other types of massages? I can learn..."
"Other types of massages huh? To relax me correct? To help me release the stress that constantly ails me?"
"...Y-yes."
He chuckled at your response. Then grabbed your arm, to pull you in closer, he was rough but still gentle enough to not harm you. "You never fail to intrigue me. Though you know, there are other ways to help me relieve stress..."
He placed his hands on the sides of your waist, as they slowly snaked around you. "Ways that can both help each other out...Since I am certain you too as well deal with constantly stress. Especially now...after working endlessly today just to please and keep me satisfied."
He pulled you in closer, whispering into your ear. "It may be my birthday, but I am still allowed to give others gifts as well if desired. Would you accept mine, as a show of thank you for your hard work?~"
Your heart skipped a beat, starting to race hard and fast. You tried to get your words out but couldn't as you felt frozen now.
But he could tell what you wanted to say, he could hear it through your body alone...He knew and he didn't bother for a verbal response as he pulled back, looking into your eyes. Then leaned in to press his lips against yours.
You felt like your breath was taken away from that kiss alone, then you kissed him back. Shy at first, but as he kissed again, and you returned it, soon your fears washed away until you were both in a heated moment.
He pulled you in to make you sit on his lap. While he slowly trailed his hand up and down your thigh, rubbing it softly, teasingly enough to stimulate you through subtle touches. Which started to work as you kissed him more deeper, moaning softly in response as you mounted his leg, pressing yourself against his thigh.
He chuckled in the kiss, then grabbed your hips, making you move and rub against him. You responded by repeating the motion yourself, as you felt yourself grow more hotter and excited. All while he himself grew more aroused by the moment too as he felt himself grow hard from your actions.
"I had plans to leave early tonight, you know?" He said as he pulled back for a moment, making your eyes widen in fear. "But now...?" He leaned his head in to your neck, softly kissing it, then took a bite, sinking his teeth into you. As his eyes glowed from the taste of your blood slipping into his mouth. While he lowly growled in the bite, as his teeth sunk in deeper.
You whimpered in response, holding on to him for support. Until he slowly released his bite on you. "But now...I don't plan on leaving until we're both satisfied~." He slowly licked the blood off your neck that he drew from you from his bite, making you shiver and softly moan.
He's What You Want, I'm What You Need - SKZ FRATHOUSE part 1, part 2
pairing: fratboy!jeongin x reader(f) x fratboy!seungmin x fratboy!hyunjin
genre: college au, smut, eventual romance (crazy)
special event w my girl @enchantedlov3r2 <3
sypnosis: having had a single boyfriend throughout the span of your life, and that experience ending absolutely disastrously - you decided to take on the easiest approach - to hide underneath a social mask, and to avoid hot guys. especially the second solution. but what happens when you happen to get paired up with not one, but two members of the skz frathouse for a project? will you make it out? will you be able to survive when the rest starts to slowly register themselves in your everyday one by one, till the option of choosing isn't yours anymore.
word count: 10k
warnings: SMUT. dom!seungmin, dom!jeongin, sub!reader, perverse thoughts, jealousy issues, possessiveness, reader is embarrassing and a loser (in a nice way i suppose), lots of internal monologue, frat boys, teasing, they are MEAN, kind of bullying, nerdy interests, unprotected sex(wrap it up), lots of making out, seungmin is a serious case of he doesn't know what he wants, corruption kink (i think...), teaching kink, toying, oral (m and f), fingering, exhibitionism, voyeurism, lots lots of swearing, alcohol
this chapter is so bad bru, but im just trying to set the ground and stuff. next chapter will be more interesting, i swear.
i hate editing i hate editing i hate editing and proofreading hate proofreading
It's been three days.
Three days since that happened, and your skin burns in memory. Lingering memory, the ones that refuse to wear off no matter how much you try and try to scrub it off.
Eyes, lips, hands, dick.
Dick, dick — and dick.
You couldn't stop thinking about it before — but it's worse now! Pretty sure that you've developed the insane habit of staring at people's pelvis. Well, people, really — it consists only of them. The who-you-must-not-speak-of, because it seems that they have some sort of spider senses, knowing exactly when they cross your mind or when their names happen to articulate out of your mouth; since the first thing that pops up in those situations is their text messages.
Which is a constant now.
They're texting you. Like. Everyday?
Not lovely texts though, barely running errands for them under the guise of that dumbass project. Their errand girl. Hence, why you're here with Jeongin.
Seungmin left about an hour ago, duty calls, or his coach might end him right here and there. Unwilling to leave you alone with his friend, the glare he gave you was cold enough. As if all of this was your fault. As if the uncomfortable coil in his chest was your fault. You're unaware of the latter though, not like he'd ever tell you how he feels. It's stupid and recent, too recent to act on any of it. Did he say stupid?
You couldn’t expect any less from Jeongin either. At least, he treats you a tad kinder than Seungmin, who decided to use you as a stress ball — hands groping and roaming your body like second nature. Driving you nuts when his palms ride a centimetre too high, almost giving you the wrong idea, only to pull back at the last second. Acting bothered, annoyed that you exist after he instigated physical contact.
Unlike Seungmin, Jeongin wants you to initiate it. He’ll brush his hand against yours on purpose, fingers curling absently. Right, absently. Weird, because you were sure he wasn’t fond of skinship. That’s what you heard — rumors before you met him. He likes to give you the idea that his touches are innocent, even when it feels the dirtiest. Offering you the tightest, cutest smile, proudly backing his image as the golden boy of their cult. Though it feels too warm, sometimes you get the idea that he’s faking it, especially when Seungmin is around. His ulterior motives speak through the twitches in his frown to the tongue poking at his cheek.
You can’t tell if they’re easier to deal with alone or together. There has been a weird, simmering tension between you three ever since, despite not having gone further than what happened last time. You’re certain that if there’s already been an awkward tension, it’s just gotten worse. Jeongin's presence next to you is loud, the heat radiating from his body bothers you. You should’ve gone home when Seungmin left, but then you’d be walking the path with him. Is it any better than being sequestered inside Jeongin’s room?
You keep trying to find excuses to excuse yourself, which he quickly finds solutions for. You’ve run out of ideas, falling into a slump at the complete edge of his mattress, as far away from him as possible. Somehow, his existence irritates you as much as it gets you wet. Embarrassingly so, you steal glances you have no control over. Your pitiful attempt at seeming busy with your phone fooling none.
“Noona,” he snaps you out in a sigh. A deep one. Throwing his head back the slightest, he drops his phone onto the pillow, eyes landing on your wide ones. “My eyes, they’re up here. Not down there.”
Oh god. You’re doing it again. He knows — he knows. Of course he would, who wouldn’t notice those perverse eyes. You squeeze your vision shut, face drowning in your palms and growing embarrassment. “I’m not— I’’m sorry. I didn’t mean to look there–”
He stays silent for a second, taking in your shy reaction. A faint smile turning his lips upwards, you can hear the smugness of it. “You didn’t mean to? You sure about that–”
“Yes!”
He hums, nodding along, pretending to believe that. “I think… that you’re thinking about last time.” The flustered scrunch of your nose is nothing short of sweet, he has to continue toying with it. “Honestly, noona. You’re kind of a pervert.” His tone is casual, that doesn’t stop the arrow of accusation from stabbing you.
The word pervert rings an uncomfortable bell, however it twists a delicious shame in your guts. Pathetic, you’re pathetic for getting turned on by the idea of him knowing your dirty secret. He mustn’t… never. No one should ever find out.
“If you keep staring at my pants like that, I’ll assume that you want to do it again.”
It. It’s evident what he’s talking about. It still takes you a moment. A brief moment that feels like hours in your running brain. The innocence in his tone is paradoxical to the light shade dusting his ears. Everything else remains unaffected. But you, of course.
“What?”
You're frozen on his bed, thumbs still hovering the screen of your phone. You hadn't anticipated this. Okay fine, maybe you were hoping that something as such would occur on your first step inside, well, his bedroom. Your excuse is that you were invited for academic reasons! Not to… to–
“I could teach you… how to properly suck dick,” it's flagrant, but he's close now. The flashing images of exactly three days ago playing on your mind. The taste of him, the heaviness of cock hitting the roof of your mouth — his scent, how your jaw ached afterwards — your body heats up, sucking in your bottom lip. The action doesn't go unnoticed, his eyes fly to your bitten lips. “Not calling you sloppy, it was your first time?”
You nod, face growing unbearably hot.
“Then, let me teach you?” Not Seungmin, not anyone else. Just him, Jeongin — he’ll show you how.
Your eyes fly to the condensing soda can on your left, the icy water discolouring the wood of his drawer. Panicked, you can’t get used to it yet. You weren’t even sure if they were going to encourage this again — you should’ve known better. “Jeongin— I don’t know…”
“Noona,” he coaxes, tone taking a manipulative undertone — and you’re aware of that. “Don’t act coy on me now, you’ve swallowed it no issue.” This is desperate, he’s getting desperate despite his cool exterior. Perhaps not as desperate as your melting resolve. You gulp, vision trailing down his body, where he’s sitting in dangerous proximity. He’s half hard, as if the thought had just hit him and he decided to run along with it. Your endearing blinking tightening the strain in his pants. “Come on…”
A heavy palm slides to your wrist, grabbing your phone to settle it next to the can. Face inches from you, he cocks his head to the side, the same now-cold palm scooting up your neck. Cradling your jaw. “You want it?” he asks, observing the subtle-yet-very obvious(unfortunate) signs of arousal shading your expression. Your heart hammers, eyelids dropping shut with a nod. A tiny approval sighing out of your lips, the only confirmation he needed before smiling against your lips. The kiss starts soft, an endeavour at calming your shaking body.
You’re so easily overwhelmed, what is he going to do with you?
Plump lips pull onto your lower ones, fingers digging onto your cheeks, urging your mouth to open for him. The exhale you release is swallowed along with your small moans, thighs quivering shut. He leans towards you, crowding your senses; utterly refusing to separate from your mouth. Your pretty mouth, which he’s got many ideas of using. He can’t let go, pushing you upwards with him, palms finding your waist, his grip strengthens. “Get off the bed,” he murmurs, muffled by the sound of wet whines. His sentence surprisingly registers, following the order mindlessly till your soles make contact with the cold floor. He finally gives you the opportunity to breathe, a string of spit attaching the two of you. “Your knees,” he speaks, using your shoulders to push you downwards. “Hm, you’re pretty.” he compliments, eyeing you on the floor before him. You’re directly positioned to his bulge, the roughness of it now obscene. You gaze up at him through your lashes, he nearly whines at the sight, if it wasn’t for his pride.
“How should I start–?” Your voice is meek, he must be having a wet dream. You haven’t started for shit and he’s throbbing pathetically at your timid eagerness. Timid. He wishes he could tell you that he knows. Fully conscious of the type of person you are — nevertheless, he holds onto the fact. It might prove to be useful in the future, who knows? God knows how you’d react if he told you, probably bolt out and transfer, or drop out. You’re crazy enough for that. He thinks he might go crazier if you stare at him like this any longer.
“Take my pants off,” he instructs, watching your trembling hands tug at his pants. “Slow– it should be sensual. Teasing is hotter.”
“Always?”
He licks his lips, breathing through his nose. “Nah, depends on the mood. If the person’s desperate enough then–”
“Are you? Desperate, I mean…”
“Fuck, are you teasing me?” he curses, the naivety of your tone could be mistaken for innocence if it wasn’t for the darker tint in your pupils. You don’t laugh, but the tiny lift of your cheeks tells him that you’re trying to ease up. Trying.
“Okay, slow then,” you divert the question, hooking your digits onto the waistband of his pants. You roll it down, revealing further skin with each tug. Saliva pools your mouth, reaching his thighs, you let the fabric go. Dropping at his feet, you’re met with his stained underwear. He’s flustered, more than he’d like to admit, leaking precum all over the cloth. You’re too entranced to care, adoring it beyond limit, making his situation worsen under your heavy gaze.
“Don’t just look, do something.”
“‘M sorry, was waiting for your words…” you mutter, a silent sound rumbles out of his throat. He wants nothing more than to tear his boxers off and shove it down your throat — have you choke on it till you brim with tears. He chooses to close his eyes instead, swallowing his flowing spit. Slow. He told you to take it slow, how long can he follow his own advice?
He sighs, ragged, “Come closer, yeah like that–” you scoot towards him, cheek pressed to his built thigh. “Just… kiss it, mhm–” his voice dies in his throat, curling into a moan the second you pamper him. Lips resting against his tip, you watch him. This is pornographic, spreading your mouth open, blowing warm air through the fabric. You’ve got no idea what you’re doing, simply hoping to recreate those porno scenes which you’ve touched yourself to countless of times. Praying that one day — you’d get the real thing to test on.
Those accumulated twenty-years-something of bad luck mounted to something, in the end, you aren’t as unlucky as you had presumed to be. Perhaps, you were a monk in your past life? Those decades of keeping chaste the reason for today's lust.
“Yn—” he calls, bringing you back to Earth, far from the mountain you probably meditated on throughout the last life. “You’re zoning out.”
You wince through your teeth, nails digging into the smooth fabric of his boxers, “Sorry– sorry, this ain’t because of you I swear–”
“I know,” he replies, patience wearing thin. He knows it’s a you thing by now, but if you don’t move in the next few seconds, he might lose composure entirely.
“Imma uhm…” you mumble, eye dropping to his erection once again, chewing on your lips — you finally free him, “continue…”
You’ve seen him before. One time isn’t enough. You’d die to see him everyday. Without the haste and daze of last time — you’re given a proper look of him, hard and wet. So fucking wet, he’s glistening. You try to say something, however it fails to come out. Staring in stupid awe, you can’t tear your eyes from his cock. No matter how many women have touched or seen him, there’s something about your dumbfounded glint that makes you addicting. Somewhat, never failing to appear as naive despite being anything but that. He can’t find it in himself to scold you for staring for this long, instead, he allows you. Tip flushed, twitching embarrassingly.
You gulp, constantly gulping from the excess of saliva forming. Though, you could do something much better with it. Tentative fingers find the base, gliding your fingertip across the prominent vein. Feeling the slick skin under yours. “God, what’re you doing–”
“Testing,” you reply, barely paying mind to him. Your palm is next, completely wrapped around him, fingers not lengthy enough to bind the entire girth. So big, so hot and heavy — different from the silicones you’re used to. This was in your mouth. Your pulse quickens at the mere thought. “Can I–?” you gaze up, lashes fluttering as you bring your mouth closer, making a kissy motion.
What the fuck– you’re trying to kill him. Inexperienced, his ass. He’s thankful that Seungmin isn’t here to experience this, glad to have you for himself and his selfish desires. “Yeah–” the worry of Seungmin is wiped from his brain with a kiss on his tip, shuddering under your experimental fondness. “Tongue.” You follow his guidance, prodding your tongue out. “The underside… it’s sensitive, ah shit,” sensitive. Has he always been this sensitive? To cry out from a lick alone —? He can’t recognise himself. The saltiness of precum takes over your senses, moaning at the familiar taste — it vibrates through him, sending goosebumps across his flesh. His mouth flies open, about to tell you to actually open up before he finds himself grasping your jaw wide himself — the process of learning fading with his patience. He needs it. Needs it badly, he might fucking die.
You read his mind, perhaps you possess those psychic skills too, his own head running as delusional as yours the second your lips wrap tightly around him. Welcoming him inside. You’re really rubbing off on him. You swallow the tip, brows pinching in concentration. In those videos… they usually — your tongue moves underside, laying it flat the best you can. Smiling against him, he makes a sound. Victory. Throwing his head back the deeper you take him, warm and wet tongue sliding underneath at a torturous pace.
You nearly reach halfway, his reactions feeding you on. This is right, you’re confident. You’re doing good, well, amazing — however, he hits the back of your throat — your jaw locks, a sudden sting spreading at your gums. You ignore it, getting some more in… halt.
You gag.
Gagged. You.
Your eyes fly open, gaping at him. He didn’t notice. Okay. OK.
You try again, squeezing your eyelids shut in pressured focus. “Egh–”
You panic. Lashes battling open for a quick solution, eyes landing on his face, back to his cock, back to his face and vice versa. Nostrils flaring in ragged breathing.
“Something’s wrong?” he asks, voice loud and ringing in your ears. Your imagination, this is your imagination. “Noona?”
“No.” It’s quick, absolute. Leaving no room for further questions. You pull back — spit attached to his flushed skin, offering him a tight smile — making an excuse of using your hands to jerk the rest.
Halt!
Isn’t no hands better? You’ve read that somewhere… No, no — no gagging is undeniably better. Sacrifices are to be made for everyone’s benefit. Sacrifices… your hands wrap around the base, jerking him off in sloppy motions as your head bobs off his cock. Keeping just the tip in. For security measures.
You could do it the other day! Why not now?!
He observes. Observes you in a way that has your skin crawling, reading you beyond your safety measures. Eyes narrowing, he inhales. “Something is wrong. Look at you, what happened?”
Wow, damn okay Yang-LookAtYou-Jeongin.
Your lips purse, lining flat on your face. He doesn’t think that you realised that your cheeks were puffed in subtle disappointment, totally bummed. You’re pouting. It plays at his heart, skipping a ridiculous beat to see you wear this expression with his cock in your hand. Still jerking him off in small motions. “You want to use your hands? Jaw hurts?”
“I want to use my mouth,” you interject, shaking your head. “But I have–”
“A gag reflex?” he cuts you off midway, “I know.”
“Huh,” your head tilts, offended and flustered by your own truth. You knew, it hurts to hear it in such an unbothered tone though. He should really drop the aloof wannabe bullshit.
You don’t know what you were expecting, nonetheless, a grin wasn’t on your list. It’s faint, growing bolder the longer he stares at you, tongue peeking out to swipe on his bottom lip. “Choking on it,” he begins; his knuckles graze your cheek, moving the sticking hairstrands, “is part of the fun, noona.”
He sits back, spreading his legs wider for you to nestle in. One hand in your hair, the other supporting his leaned body, he pushes you towards him. Close enough to have your breath fanning over him, heavy and shallow. You swallow, his fingers digging into your roots, biting the inside of his cheeks.“Try again, I’ll guide you. Properly.”
—
“What’re you guys up to?” Seungmin’s voice rings through the phone speaker, Jeongin leans down against the headboard, almost hearing the frown in Seungmin’s question. Sighing, he blinks ahead, wondering if he has to entertain this conversation right now?
“Nothing,” though, that nothing sounds like everything.
“Nothing?” Seungmin repeats, skeptical in his approach. Jeongin hums, his small grunt to get comfortable vibrating through his microphone.
“Yeah, she just left.”
Seungmin pauses. Steps faltering, checking the time on his screen. “This early? It’s still five p.m–”
The smirk that edges on Jeongin’s face is involuntary, but he wishes Seungmin was there to see it. It’s fine, he’ll hear it in his voice. “What can I say hyung? She probably had things to tend to. She’s busy, y’know?”
“Yeah. Right,” Seungmin replies, growing a mild itch in his throat. The annoying kind. “The girl who has porn as a hobby is busy, sure.” He shields his eyes, the sun is blazing for no fucking reason. For god’s sake, it’s five not noon. He left around three, and in two hours you’re gone. Something must’ve happened. Not like he gives a shit, “I met with Changbin hyung, said there’s a party this friday. You coming?”
“Who doesn’t go to the party they, themself, host? Everybody is there to see us, what’s the point in not going–”
“Yn,” Seungmin breaks in, and suddenly Jeongin falls into silence. “I’m inviting her.”
Jeongin’s certain that there’s a bug crawling on his face. Blunt nails graze his cheek, moving to the back of his nape to ease the crawl on his neck instead. “Why?”
“Why? Isn’t it obvious,” Seungmin replies, tucking the phone an inch away. “She needs to get used to the circle, or else she’ll be an awkward idiot who runs at every sliver of contact–”
“Then hold a fucking meeting bro,” Jeongin’s tsks, “How is a party the appropriate place?”
“Oh?” Seungmin is the one to laugh now, disbelief washing over him. “You care about what’s proper now?” Jeongin is about to retort but Seungmin is quick to cut him off, not sparing him the opportunity to retaliate. “Listen, I don’t care about your possessive stunts. You agree or not, not my problem. I’m meeting with Hyunjin tomorrow, I’ll go see yn then. They share a class, did you know that?”
Well, no. It didn’t matter either way, Hyunjin never goes to class. Once a blue moon whenever he feels like it.
The call ends. Jeongin scoffs, skull throbbing with an impending headache. Do they have to do this? Everytime?
He falls back, staring at the ceiling — pupils drifting to his phone in hand. Should he call you? But you just left, it’ll seem needy. It’ll seem like more than it actually is. If he could count his sighs, he’d be in mathematics instead.
What can he do?
—
You smile. You don’t mean to — but you do. Grinning like an idiot at your opened locker for the past minute, hand hovering on your photobook. You stare. Stare and giggle. Have you ever been this lucky? Like—
“Are you crazy?”
“Eh–!” your soul escapes for a fragment of a second, slamming your locker shut at the sudden disturbance. Eyes gaping to meet a familiar face. Seungmin. “What the fuck, what's your probl—” he raises a brow, immediately catching your slip, you smile. Tightly, “–eeem, what brings you here? Kim Seungmin…”
Seungmin scoffs, a grimace forming on his face, poorly hiding his amusement. “You.”
“Me?” Stunned would be an understatement. You had expected a snap back from him, maybe shrugging you off at the mere thought. But you?
“Don't feed your sick fantasies. I’m here business related,” he sighs, flicking your forehead. Cliché. If you knew better you'd think he stole that from a romance drama. “Come on, let's go.”
“Go where–?” you try, but he grabs you before your sentence gets the chance to voice out, the first few steps clumsy and awkward till you find a common pace. Still, his fingers wrap around your wrist, guiding you towards him. His hand is warm, kind of rough on the surface. But undeniably softer than Jeongin’s. You can’t help but notice the lotion of his hand cream, eyes fixing the contact then ahead — the back of his head — falling into a brief silence, except for your steps and the heavy commotion of students around.
This got to be another of his errands. How cruel, you aren’t allowed to go to class anymore. You think — but then he abruptly stops. Not literally, only slowing his steps so that he matches your pace instead. Slow enough to call it stopping. “Hey,” he says, although your attention is already on him. He nips on his lip, you’d claim he looks perplexed right now. “There’s a party this Friday. You’re coming.”
“I’m coming?”
No. No. Run that back.
He didn’t say, are you coming? He didn’t even say, you coming?
Just, you coming. As in… “An assertion?”
“Yes. Definitive, no argument.” he replies, nodding.
“Me– like, at a party? Fraternity party?”
“Yes, you at a frat party. Our party–”
“Okay.”
“Huh?” he retorts, head tilting. He squints, “Okay? Just okay?”
You hum, shrugging. “I mean, what did you want me to say?”
To freak out. To reject. To rejoice, maybe. There’s many things he wanted you to say, and many things he imagined you saying on his way here. Okay wasn’t anticipated though. Fuck that, he didn’t envisage all the possibilities. Amateur move, Kim Seungmin.
“Oh, my class is here. I’ll go then,” you point out, your stroll had somehow brought you to your initial destination. Somehow, but also somehow, he happens to step inside with you. “What are you doing… Are you following me? That’s kind of freakish–”
His chest puffs in total disbelief that you could come to such a foolish conclusion, glancing at his surroundings. “Yah, full of yourself, aren’t you?” he sneers, pushing you aside at the doorway. However, he doesn’t walk past, choosing to stay here mushed against you. Blocking the pathway. Squeezing your shoulders in defense at his sudden rudeness. He’s always rude though. “I’m not here for you.”
“You said otherwise earlier–” your mouth speaks before your brain thinks, lashes battling at the realisation. Lips tucked into an awkward line, you glance at him. Practically seeing the fumes of his hurt ego flying out of his ears in huge smokes. “Sorry. It came out as wrong–”
“You’re seriously trying to piss me off,” You fuck once and now you act all mighty. He can’t believe this shit. He backs up, giving you the impression of personal space for a first. Alas, he’s as quick to close that distance, backing you up against the edge of the entrance. Your vision runs to the nearby students, the crowd who blatantly ignore what’s happening. You can’t tell if you’re thankful or hateful towards their response. His cologne hits you, then the tint in his eyes. As if he’s wondering what to do with you, that he couldn’t decide yet and needs time to think about it. You’re in public, what is he doing– “You…” he mutters, voice dropping with his gaze, “You get on my nerves, s’much. Why do you–”
“Ahem, what’s going on here?” someone speaks over your shoulder. Not someone you recognise, but almost like you heard it somewhere. It’s on the tip of your tongue. “Kim Seungmin-ssi, is this the correct behaviour for a lecture room?”
Seungmin rolls his eyes, stepping away for scarcely two inches. “Piss off, have you got nothing to do than play rules and regulations cop on campus?” They hover on either side of you, caging you inside with no prior care of your existence. You’re invisible, completely-utterly-transparent. “Last thing I knew, Visual Arts wasn’t part of your major? Focus on maths, yeah?”
Maths? Mathematics? Who in their right mind… oh.
You peek over your shoulder, catching a brief glance at the person standing behind you. He’s broad, that’d be an understatement. You’ve only seen him from afar before, dark hair falling right above his eyes. Your vision meets. Lingering for a second, scanning you, a spark of a smile flashes on his face. You tense up. He lifts his attention back to Seungmin, “Must you be so harsh? I walked Hyunjin off to his class, what’s so wrong in accompanying a friend.”
Their conversation falls to deaf ears, your sole focus is on escaping whatever this is. Their beef or clash, no matter what they call it. “What’s gotten you this heated?” The guy questions, tone sarcastic. You couldn’t careless, carefully trying to step aside, however, rough fingers find your shoulder. Glueing your steps to the ground. He tuts, keeping you in place. “Where are you going? You’re as guilty of misbehaviour in class, I should bring you to the office.”
“What? No–!” you begin, shoulder squirming out of his grasp. You’re a victim here!
Quickly facing Seungmin for help, which he fails to aid. Aren’t they in the same frathouse — what the fuck is this weird tension, shouldn’t it be — are they messing with you?
“Changbinnie,” another one. This is hell, you died in your senior year of high school and you’re in hell. Changbin is pushed from behind, colliding into your back. Feeling every definition of muscle through his shirt. Ouh shit. Ok no. Not the moment. The collision creates a domino effect, throwing you onto Seungmin’s chest. Your fingers trail past his chest, the bump of his abs flexing underneath your fingertips, eyes squeezing shut, this couldn’t get any more cringe. Wincing at the unfortunate situation. You exhale into Seungmin, lashes fluttering open to focus your eyesight. Finding the culprit of the fall, your mouth dries.
Hwang Hyunjin who never goes to class.
Has gone to class.
—
One hour left, one hour of this torment left.
Not to get you wrong, you love your major and classes. Nails clicking against the keys of your keyboard with utmost satisfaction, the lesson of your professor, something you’d enjoy on a regular day. If it wasn’t for the intense stares punching holes at your back. You’d seriously be enjoying this class.
Each time you happen to look to your side, you find leering eyes fixed upon you. You swallow, perhaps you’re imagining it. But then, he’d look at you too. Hyunjin, who never ever interacted with you beforehand, keeps smiling and blinking at you as if you were lifelong friends. Your imagination has been top notch lately, you’ve got to admit it. Though, the realness of the situation hit you as early as the class ended, and a girl accidentally bumped into you. Splattering her coffee everywhere on your shirt. She apologised, which you understood. However, she proceeded to give you the nastiest eye before walking over to Hyunjin, letting him throw an arm onto her shoulders.
Leaving you with a wet and sticky shirt for the rest of the day. The bubbling urge to find and curse off the two of them (and Seungmin, Changbin included for scaring you) tipped you for a hot thirty minutes after the incident, sucking in on your teeth in sulking grumbles on the way back to your dorm. To wipe that grin off his dirty handsome face.
Though, a strange sense of fulfillment suits you as you swipe your student ID in, finally releasing a much needed breath. You replay your day, it was bad. Yeah. But definitely not your worst day. If anything…
“I got invited to a party!!” you exclaim, kicking the door shut. Throwing your bag onto the couch, arms flailing in the air. You’ve been dying to do that, except that Seungmin was there, can not be caught rejoicing like this. Especially by him, that would’ve for sure fed his jock pride.
This is the widest you’ve smiled since yesterday, sensing your social status boosting despite your ultimate goal of keeping it on the low. It completely fades from your mind. Pathetic, but attending a college party has been on the top of your to-do list ever since you started. Right under losing your virginity. In one week, strike, two boxes ticked. Not yet, but soon. Soon enough.
You jolt to your bedroom, yanking the closet open. It must be there, crouching to the bottom, you rummage through the pile of clothing. “Where…” muttering under your breath, the tip of your fingers finally reaching it. A paper bag, pulling it out, the content falls onto your mattress. “Which one,” there’s two dresses that you have never worn before. Having brought them for these types of special occasions, they’ve been catching dust within your closet. Smoothing the fabric with your palms, you gape. Which…
An abrupt vibration in your pocket knocks you out. You can’t allow yourself to be surprised anymore, phone calls have been your routines lately. Reading the contact info, Yang Jeongin, you swipe the screen. “Hello.”
There’s a momentarily silence, a breath taken and a shuffle. “Hi–?”
“Sup,” he thuds his head against his bedroom’s wall, grimacing at the slight sting.
Sup. Yeah, yeah, okay. “I’m good, why’d you call?” there’s a subtle groan on the other side, you assume he’s trying to get comfortable — but the sound… It's so similar to last time. Your ears warm, slapping your cheek to snap out of it. He chuckles, almost innocently.
“Are you in a battle? What’s with the strange noises?”
“No…” you reply, biting on your nail.
He hums, pausing. “Actually, I–” What’s with him? Acting like that is out of character. Jeongin, snap out of it!
“Did Seungmin ask you?”
“About?” you ask, “Oh, you mean the party. He did, why?”
“You sound happy about it,” he mentions, arising confusion in your throat. You hadn’t even noticed your voice picking up or anything, how’d he tell? “I mean— you’re easy to read.”
“Hey,” you tsk, does audacity come along with being famous? You won’t end like them, trust.
If you become famous.
Maybe. Unlikely.
“What are you going to wear?” The question hits both of you at the same time. Impeccable timing, you’d say. A mistake of a question, he’d say. Seeming too curious for his own good.
“Wooh, Yang Jeongin, do you actually have a sixth sense?” You’re in awe, your scenarios were likely right. They can read your mind. Wait– no! That’d be awful. No, no mind reading. Begone!
“I have, uhm. Two choices, I haven’t decided yet.”
“Send them to me.”
A beat passes. A fly gets brutally slapped dead by your fan.
“Why…?”
Why? Ah, he didn’t think this far. Seriously, is he looking too deep into this?
“I’ll help you choose. Don’t you… want the help of a party connoisseur?”
You shiver. What’s with the tone, is he possessed?
“Sure, I’ll hang up and send you–”
“Can’t we just– video call?” You’re on the verge of replying, but he shuts the idea down, his laughter rising through the phone. “Kidding, I don’t have time for this. I really don’t have time for this, I got practice and stuff to go to.”
“But it’s past eight–”
“Are you assuming that I should be in bed by eight?” He’s in fact, in bed, at eight. “I’m grown, the hell.”
“I didn’t say anything,” you mumble, forehead creasing at his sheepish rambles. “I’m hanging up.”
“Hang up then,” he mumbles back, however the beep screams at your ears before you find the opportunity to end the call.
He hung up. “How strange…” facing the ceiling, you suck on your teeth. “Are they doing drugs out there?” Most likely, what else to expect from those people.
—
He ended up calling you again, getting on video call at last, not as busy as he tried to perceive as. “They texted last minute, practice was cancelled.”
As if you’d believe that, though you choose to give him the benefit of the doubt. Now, you’re stuck playing dress-up-doll with Jeongin, telling you to turn around for the fifth time this evening. “How long do I have to keep doing this,” you complain, the bottom of your feet aching to sit on your much comforting bed.
“A little more,” he replies, voice low, it unfortunately rumbles in the pit of your stomach. You’ve been growing shy for the past minutes. He stares intently, awakening the nerves in your body. You wish he’d stop already and let you ‘sleep’. Today was tiring enough, you have a routine. You’d like to complete that routine. A warm familiar haziness spreads through your legs, you absolutely need to do it now. Addiction, but it's your addiction and he’s being an obstruction.
“Please, I wan’ sleep.” You whine unintentionally, impatience bubbling your throat. “Jeongin.”
You see him visibly swallow, eyes snapping to his own reflection briefly then back to you, nodding. “The second dress is better, wear that one.”
The statement breaks your train of thoughts, skeptical, rucking at the skirt of the dress. “Is that so? I thought this one was kinda ugly… I preferred the other.”
It’s modest compared to the other option, awkwardly falling off your body, the sleeves sticking to your arms. However, he tuts, shutting up the thought. “Trust me, yeah? Don’t want you to look ugly there, noona.”
Still. “Are you sure…?”
“Hundred percent.”
You hum, pondering on the dress laying flat on your mattress. If he says so. “All right then… I’ll go to sleep now.”
He blinks, looking at the time. He makes a face, one that hints that he wants to say something, though chooses not to. Humming back at you. “M’kay, bye.”
You wait a few seconds, giving him the opportunity to say whatever he wants to. He doesn’t grasp it, finally getting to hang up.
Putting your phone aside, a notification catches your attention. Spreading a smile on your face.
Jeongin:
night, sleep well
—
You’re going nuts.
The party starts at nine p.m.
Three p.m. you decided to take a power nap. Sounds corny, but reddit told you to do it. Yes, you searched for how to prepare for your first party…
How could you trust redditors for anything related to real life!
Six p.m. you woke up. Had one hour for an entire body shower(the hardcore kind), shave, wash your hair, oil up. Not literally.
Seven p.m. you started ironing your clothes while simultaneously doing your makeup, seven forty you had to do your hair. Everything was a mess.
Eight p.m. you ran into your roommate while searching for the purse you aimlessly discarded on the couch somewhere. Two past eight, she asked you, “Where are you going–?” with evident surprise in her eyes that you’re going somewhere. Dressed like that.
“A party–”
She flinched at the word party leaving your mouth, unable to associate the two entirely unrelated topics together. You and party.
Her pupils raked over you, taking in your distress. “Do you… need help?”
Lately, you’ve been wanting to kiss her so bad. Nodding furiously, “Yes!”
In thirty minutes, she managed to do whatever you were hopelessly trying to do for the past hours. Maybe she’s not as evil as you thought, perhaps she’s been turning into an angel through your manifestations and behind-the-doors chakra healing guidance.
“I was about to head out, but like.” she sighs, smoothing your shoulders. Staring at you from the mirror, “You’re a pretty lost cause…”
No, she’s demonic. You withdraw your words.
“Are you going to that frat party? The stray kids one,” she asks, and you peek at her, nodding. “It was weird when they came over last time. Have fun, but be careful okay? There’s rumors about them, heard they’re dickheads underneath the glam.”
Honestly, you knew about this. It’s pretty obvious, anyone with a working brain would be able to correlate college guys and a fraternity to be assholes. “It’s okay, don’t worry about me.” You’re aware, however, that’s what you desire. Nobody could clutch your claws off this opportunity except yourself.
“Hmm, I’ll get going then.” she says, grabbing her keys. Looking at you again, “Oh uhm, also— what’s with the…” she starts, peering at your attire before shaking her head. “Forget it. I suppose a pretty face could fix that…”
“What?” you call back, not hearing the last few words. She doesn’t reply, only escaping through the door, leaving you in confusion.
—
“What the fuck are you wearing?” Blunt. Sharp. And very rude. Extremely rude, even coming from him.
You’re pulled to the side, shielding you and the perpetrator of ruining your mood from the outside world. The barringly loud, outside world. “Are you trying to embarrass me?”
Your mouth opens, closes then opens back up. You don’t mean to sound childish, but, “That’s mean.”
Seungmin slowly tilts his head back, fingers rubbing smooth lines on his neck. Opting for a deep inhale, “This is a party, why are you– what is this? Are we going to church?”
He’s not holding you too roughly, but it still hurts. Probably his tone, you don’t like it. You kind of do, but you hate it more than you like it. Oh, fuck him actually.
Eleven past nine, you pushed Seungmin away. You pushed Kim Seungmin away. Ignoring his shouts of your name, making it into the crowd because you refuse to go home, and you refuse to let anyone ruin this for you. It escalated so fast, you barely recall how you ended up tipsy at the bar, alone. Trying out different cheap mixtures of alcoholic punches found on the table.
You aren’t drunk, just enough to lower your inhibitors and not feel like a total outcast on your own. You can tell some people are shooting you weird looks, gazing at your attire in quiet whispers. Fuck if it mattered, they are back to their initial actions a minute later.
You might hate Seungmin for this. How could he— when he’s the one who…–
He fills your mind though, relentlessly hearing him despite his absence. He couldn’t bother to at least notice your efforts, one flaw and he’s mad. There’s nothing wrong with your dress. Except for its length, the white colour, the long sleeve… Maybe not for a party, you admit. No reason to be this rude about it, he’s mean. “Mean…” you cross your arms over the counter, watching the lights bounce off the silky white sleeves. This is not fun at all. You chew on your lips, wearing an absent pout, “Just one more.”
“Should you be drinking that much?” a voice drifts from the left, a guy pulling the stool next to you to hop on.
“I can handle it, mind your own busin–” you reply, though, you shut up as you take in his appearance. It’s the guy you bumped into at Seungmin’s dorm the other day.
“Hm, then, let me pour you one? If you can handle it,” he smiles, sweet and kind. Wow, are they really roommates? Is this a yin and yang situation, opposites create chemistry type of shit?
“I suppose that we know each other? Just one encounter tho, you were in a hurry that day.”
“Oh, that…” you mumble, rubbing your palm across your forehead. Swearing when you remember you’re wearing makeup, quickly snatching your hand off your skin. “I’m sorry about that day– I should’ve been careful.”
“No worries, I don’t take things to heart.”
You wish others would take notes. “What’s your name? I’m Felix, you know that though. Right?”
“I do–” you tell him your name, your major and a bunch of unnecessary information. Never the necessary ones, fortunately, the state that you’re in doesn’t matter — locking your secret is wired in your brain. He’s unsurprisingly talented at small talk, showing interest in whatever nonsense you’re spurring at him. You’re certain that you’re making a fool of yourself as you speak, he laughs. Voice deep, but his cackles are lighthearted, it’s making your head lighter. Almost forgetting about your conflict with Seungmin.
“You’re cute,” he eases out, laying his head onto his knuckles, the other brushing your cheek. Hell, when did he start touching you–? You’re unsure. Shit, you’re drunker than you assumed. Flushing underneath the contact, you fight to open your eyes, him shifting towards you does the job. “Funny too. Who comes to a party dressed for a picnic,” he chuckles, staring right at your dazed gaze.
“Yongbok?”
Felix looks upright, his smile widening into a huff. “Changbin,” his lips part, you find yourself staring at his teeth.
“You got cute canines,” you slur, completely out of it. “Funny? Me? Thank you… you acquire this skill from being a loser, like… Not calling myself a loser tho— that’s, that’s lame. Do you find it lame? But you know what’s lamer–” you hiccup, pointing your finger up to make a declaration. “Kim Seungmin!”
Yn. Stop.
Felix interchanges a glance with Changbin, “Record this, quick.” Amused sounds rumbling out of them as Changbin presses record.
“Kim Seungmin. He brings out anger I didn’t know I had… I hate him so much, well—” your head bobs back, the two of them gaping at you, “I don’t… low-key… he makes me so, horny. He’s so freaking hot, I want to pounce on him whenever he gets angry. Shiiit, yall seeing blurry too?” Your forehead drops, banging with the counter, wincing in pain.
“Send it to the group chat, this is priceless–”
“No need,” Changbin’s phone is snatched. “I’ve already seen it,” Seungmin speaks over, a grimace written on his face. He deletes the video from Changbin’s gallery, earning a low whistle from the guy. Felix can’t hide his curious holler, smirk permanent on his expression. Tossing Changbin’s phone at him, he reaches for you, which Felix halts him.
“But, I was having fun with her?”
The twitch in Seungmin’s jaw shows enough, returning the sarcastic tone. “Too bad, she’s mine tonight.”
Felix shrugs, surrendering for now. Allowing Seungmin to push you over his shoulder, awake enough to grumble at the suddenness of the action. He’s surprised to hear nothing from Changbin, staying oblivious to his presence on purpose. He’s not up to any of this bullshit, his mistake for letting you leave earlier. Should’ve chained you up to him, no matter how upset you were.
“Hmm, those shoulders–” you mumble, jerking your head back into his neck. He shudders, what on earth. “Seungmin?”
“You recognise me by my shoulders, weirdo.” He replies, softer now. Not carrying the animosity of before, he seemed to have calmed down.
“You’re a bully, what’s worse. A weirdo or a bully?”
He rolls his eyes, shaking his head. “You must really be drunk to talk to me like this…”
“No, I talk to you like this all the time. In my head–”
“Shut up, you’re heavy. You talking adds to your weight,” he grunts, climbing the stairs. You pucker your lips, frown creasing.
“I am?”
He thinks about it. He can’t believe that he’s thinking about it, the words hardly rumbling out of his throat. “No, I’m lying.”
“I heard that,” you giggle, clinging to him, missing a stair.
“Focus, we’re both gonna fall–”
“I’m focused,” you’re quick to say, eyes wide now. Fixing him. He gives you a side eye, muttering about how creepy you’re acting. “On you.”
He snorts now, a sense of triumph washing over you for succeeding at pulling a laugh out of him. “Quit that, timidity suits you better. Like a scaredy cat, or a kicked puppy.”
Your answer dies with the echoing music, landing upstairs. He opens a bedroom door, checking inside before urging you to follow. The sight of the room earns heavy blinking from you. Is this the genre of room people hook up in at those famous parties?
“Come here,” he instructs, guiding you to sit on the bed. “You’re all drunk, you probably won’t remember this.” he says under his breath, kneeling down, brushing your skirt up your legs. He sighs, palm sliding across your leg to your ankle. “Easy,” he says, noticing the tension in your muscles. His fingers move, unclasping your shoes with uncharacteristic tenderness. Eyes occasionally meeting your face, engraving your expression to memory.
Fuck, fuck, hell, what the hell, shit, what. God no, this is turning you on. Stop, stop.
Both your heels are gone, he soothes your aching legs. You breathe heavy, the kindness doing things to your brain. Sobering up, your eyes close, feeling every glimpse of patience in which he’s touching you. Caressing is the proper word.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, on his knees before you. You gulp, the sincerity in his voice causing a shakiness in your hands. His attention darts to your fingers curling into the sheets. He grasps your wrist, bringing your palm to his cheek, leaning into the touch. “I can be nice too. Is that what you’d like? Or, do you prefer when I’m mean. It makes you horny?”
He’s teasing you. You should be used to it, but it renders you unbearably hot. You shake your head, denying his insights. He grins, sickeningly sweet with a mocking undertone. Standing up, he pockets your phone out of your purse. “I’ll be right here, call me if anything happens. Rest up–” he proposes, however, you hold onto his shirt before he gets the opportunity to disappear. The alcohol might’ve evaporated out of your body, his attitude enough to shake you up. Spooky, you want more.
You want, “You. I want you–”
“You’re drunk–” when did he care about someone being drunk? Countless of drunk hookups, but your consent is the first thing that flew to his mind.
“I’m fine, I am sober. Please, Seungmin?”
He curses, faltering on his steps. Hesitant between you and the door, your plea looping in his head. “Get a grip, Seungmin.” he breathes out, pausing before you as your fingers tighten around his shirt, subtly pushing him towards you. “You–” God, self control has never been his strongest virtue.
“Please?”
Then, his lips are on you faster than you’re able to process. Sweet, he also tastes of alcohol. He must’ve had a drink or two, you want more of it. Drowning in the haziness he induces you with. “You taste of everything, had fun playing tester?” he says, the motion of lips smacking muffling his question. Not like he was expecting an answer. He’s hungry, hungry to receive all of you. Swallowing each of the noises you whimper out, allowing the tiniest gap for you to breathe in and out. His mouth glides to the lining of your jaw; trailing searing, open-mouth, kisses to your neck.
“Hmm,” you moan out at the feel of his teeth nipping at your skin, arms wrapping around his body for any form of support and restraint, for yourself. He bites down, you yelp, thighs closing from need.
Your phone vibrates, though you pay no mind, thoughts elsewhere entirely. He does, peeking at the screen to find Jeongin’s contact. Seungmin shuts the device up, grabbing his to turn on ‘do not disturb’, he has you all for himself. No way he’d give up on this opportunity. Your whine at the loss of contact gathers his attention, palms digging into the loose fabric of the dress. Suddenly, it makes sense. Brain picking up the clues, his shoulders rigid. “Who picked that dress?”
“Eh?” you ponder on his question, searching for your inhibitions to answer. “Oh, Jeongin–”
He laughs, dryly. “No wonder. Of course he did,” he should probably thank Jeongin for this, as much as he would’ve preferred that you look pretty tonight. This gave him the chance to get you alone. “Next time, ask me instead.” he expresses, however, his vision falters on your face, just now noticing the efforts you’ve put in for tonight. Pretty. Pretty? You’re pretty as hell— why didn’t he realise?
“Hey,” you poke at him, catching his attention. “Eat me out.”
He lets a beat past, processing. “You’re bolder, are you still drunk?”
You shake your head, cradling his face. “I just… really want you to.”
“You’re getting me hard, acting like that.” he rasps, your eyes drifting to his pants in conclusion.
“Oh…” you slur, almost pathetic in how endearingly you stare at his bulge. Your panties stick to your cunt, slick fluids drenching it. This is the hornier you’ve ever been, he grabs the hint, rucking your skirt the entire way up to your stomach.
“Stupid dress,” he mutters, the fabric getting in his way. You giggle, he shoots you a look but it does nothing at intimidating you. Not when he’s being so nice. And cute. Nice and cute. Spreading your knees apart, he nestles in, being met head on with your aching pussy. “Have you been this wet since earlier?” he comments, biting his cheek in contemplation. Your stomach jumps at the question, answering him. His lips are tender, planting kisses to the junction of your thigh. You gasp, responsive like no one else, urging him to try and coax more out of you.
“Hurry, no teasing– need it now,” you egg on, hand flying to the edge of your panties, hardly inching underneath the cotton.
He listens, to your shock. Raising your legs to tug the panties off. Your hand rests on your pelvis, which he grabs, pushing your fingers into his mouth. “I–”
He sucks on them, loud and wet slurps. “Touch yourself, needy girl.” he commands, watching you comply with whatever he says. Wet fingers spreading yourself for him, putting on a show at traveling to your sobbing hole. He observes till he can’t anymore, jolting awake as his mouth makes contact with your cunt. Punching a keen sound from your agape lips. He moans into you, wrapping his lips onto your clit, sucking onto the bud with much eagerness. “This is how you wanted it?” he slurs, not hearing shit of what he’s blabbering about, getting overdriven by pleasure the second he laps downwards to your hole. Tongue flat and burning, wet with saliva that he shamelessly spits at your lips — only to drink it back from you in nasty, disgusting, gulps.
He grumbles into you, the motion blowing at your clit, tongue twisting into slow circles. Feels so good, to him almost. Erection grazing the edge of the bed, he groans. Voice cracking, he grabs both of your thighs, lifting them upwards so that you’re bending for him. Has pussy ever tasted this good. Giving isn’t something he usually does, it could grow onto him if every girl were you.
Wait, what.
Scratch that, he’ll dwell over these thoughts later. Drooling all over your lips, his tongue pokes at your entrance. Catching the sensation of your tight walls around him, his cock twitches. Your hips jerk upwards as he slides inside, shit he might as well be whimpering. You’re too fucked out to notice, blissed to the heavens and back. Someone could get shot and you wouldn’t realise. Eyelids squeezed shut, your legs shake, joints tightening around anything they can snatch.
The door opens, no knocking or anything. Just Hyunjin, a few girls in hand. As ravenous as he is, he enters the room lost in conversation until his eyes land on the two of you. He makes a surprised noise, the elated kind. You squeal, instantly dragging your skirt over Seungmin’s head, much to his temper.
“Are you guys playing prince and princess? What is she wearing–” then, he searches for your face, eyebrows kicking upwards. “Oh! You’re the girl from class.”
You shake your head violently, hoping to deny when a finger breaches you, tuning your voice into a moan. “Seungmin– Ah! Stop–”
“Tell him to get out,” he replies bluntly, showing no signs of stopping. If anything, he adds a second, curling them just right. You twist in shame, the humiliation burning at your skin. Hyunjin’s mouth forms an ‘O’, nodding with a growing smirk. You’re a hundred percent sure that he can still see what’s happening, grabbing onto a pillow, you slap it on your face. Coward puppy it is. Seungmin looks over, brushing the skirt off him with mild annoyance. Though, he makes a pitiful attempt at shielding you, shoulders hiding what you want to keep hidden.
“Stop peering, you’re being a creep.” Seungmin tells Hyunjin, not bothering to wipe his soaked mouth. “Move on to another room, this one is occupied.”
“Is she that good?” Hyunjin asks, brazen. He doesn’t give a fuck, or two, or even three. “You’ve been sticking for a while, I heard.”
Seungmin cocks his head to the side, squinting at the ceiling in fake ponder. “I think, that you should stop sticking your nose in other’s business. I heard you had trouble doing that,” His vision points to the girls on Hyunjin’s side, nothing but indifference in his eyes. “You seem busy, focus on what you have at hand. Since both are filled.”
“Ah, I see.” Hyunjin’s tongue pokes at his lips, shrugging. “That’s new coming from you, but if you insist.” He trails to the door, steps lazy. “I’d say. I’m the greedy type though.”
Seungmin eyes squint, scoffing into you, irritation overriding him once again. His fingers rub over you, pumping inside. He clicks his tongue, landing a light slap to your clit. “You got wetter, is getting interrupted that appealing to you?” He should’ve known better, especially after that little character background of yours. “What’s the point of acting embarrassed,” it’s an annoyed mumble, his thrusts turning meaner. He’d give you a scolding, but what’s his position to? It’ll only look desperate, he can’t afford that. Instead, he sucks onto your clit. Hard. Drawing out muffled, high pitched strangles. Ripping the pillow off you, the music downstairs is loud. You can be louder, showing everyone who has you yelping like this.
“Close?” He notes, the squelches of your cunt getting sharper, thighs begging to clasp around his head. You nod, feverish. He comes down again, adding a third finger as he latches at your clit, cutting the thread. You convulse, crying out in harsh body jolts. Expected, that at least eases him the slightest. Finally, understanding his younger friend a bit. Everybody pisses him off lately. He’d claim to be close to Hyunjin, but right now he wants to punch the shit out of him. Doesn’t matter, it’ll rub off after a few days. He hopes. “Now,” he climbs upwards, planting a kiss on your lips. Undoing his belt, “I’m hella worked up right now, fix it.”
—
“What if– what if he tells people!? Rumors fly, you know–”
“For the fifth time,” Seungmin goes on, groggy with sleep and a headache. It’s seven in the morning on a Monday,” he shouldn’t have picked up your call. “Who cares? Let him, so what.”
“What do you mean!!” If he could see your current state, maybe then he’d realise the gravity of the situation. “My reputation, it’ll be ruined.”
“What reputation..?” he starts but stops himself, remembering the last incident of him being too rude. “Okay, listen. Yn,” he states, you make a pathetic sound that curls at his chest. Nevertheless, his words are quick to slice at this feeling, “Do you know how many girls come and go here? Nobody gives a shit about who you are, they don’t care about that. It’s not that serious.”
Your coffee machine pings, it resonates. “Ah,” you inhale, blinking at the seeping liquid. “You’re right.” Flat, his reasoning stings. Not by a lot, just a little. Disappointment? You can’t decipher yet.
“Stop stressing over it, kay?” He’s done, waiting for your approval before going on with his day. There’s a silence that threads through. Are you zoning out?
Something else?
“Ow–”
“What happened–?” he asks, involuntary worry settling in.
“Nothing crazy,” you reply, “I burned my tongue with hot coffee.”
He exhales, loudly and obviously. Feeling stupid for inquiring over something this small.
“Be careful next time,” he grumbles, it doesn’t sound as concerning as it reprimands. Nothing else before hanging up, you scrunch your nose, sniffing in the beginning of a cold.
Cold, he’s been cold the entire weekend. Not like you had expectations, he just didn’t talk much after what happened. “It’s good,” you monologue. “That’s what hooking up culture is, be proud.” Exactly, stand proud. That’s what you desired for so long. You’re confident that you won’t see Hyunjin again either way, a whole semester in and this was the first time you met. So, nothing to worry about.
—
“Hello, yn-ah.”
You knew this would happen, having learned to anticipate those by now. Sixth sense top notch, you’re ready to become the next Spiderwoman. Ugh, too far. The thought sends a shiver of cringe throughout your body. Maybe in another story. In this one, the narrative decided that Hwang Hyunjin would sit next to you during this whole four hour lesson. And that this certain Hwang Hyunjin would nudge at and annoy you the whole four hour lesson, yes, emphasis on the four hour duration.
“Did you have fun Friday?”
“Surely…” you reply regardless, they still scare the shit out of you. Honestly, he’s up all in your face, it’s getting to you. Focusing is out of the frame, nothing that the lecturer said registered in your brain. It’s just Hwang Hyunjin. Hyunjin stealing your pens. Hyunjin trying to type on your laptop. You found that he’s actually stupid, or he appears to be. Who knows. You’re terrified the same way you’re annoyed. Like– it aligns, he must be trying to scare you… Exactly, this is it.
Seungmin was wrong, Hyunjin cares and he’s going to ruin your year. Your career, your degree, everything. You heard the whole campus worships him. You’re done for, he’ll threaten you soon. Saying — “Give me a chance.”
