sol.

–

It was early enough in the morning for Gotham to look half-decent. The sad, concrete buildings brightened under the rising sun, the menacing smog that characterises the city has momentarily retreated and the coo of birds returns as a serene backdrop outside of your window. Yet, it’s the sight of Jason’s bare back that holds your attention.

As he lays atop of a mat, you straddle his thighs with your supplies laid out either side of you. It’s an organised mess, is what you’d told him when he’d seen the array of palettes and brushes surrounding him; though you can still see the suspicious look in his eyes where his head rests atop his crossed arms.

“You’re looking like I’m about to defame you, Jay.” You murmur with a chuckle as you meticulously blend a mix of colours.

Your point is only proven when he peers at you over his shoulder and raises an eyebrow. “I still don’t understand the appeal of this, baby.”

You meet his eyes with a smile. “Just trust the process.” You respond. “You know I love you. I’m not going to ruin your skin.”

When he teasingly rolls his eyes, you can’t help but laugh. There have been occasions where you’ve painted small pictures poking fun at him or decorated something of his impulsively. He’d act playfully offended, though he’d never gotten rid of any of it.

Still, you reassure him. “You can always wash it off immediately after, honey. It’ll come off eventually.”

“It better.” He murmurs lightheartedly, burying his face into his arms with a sigh.

You trace your fingers, still smudged with paint from your other works, down the ridges of his spine in thought.

Characterising Jason into one thing is an impossible task. He’s transformed from a young boy–brave, excitable, energetic–to a guarded man. He’s always firm in his morals, he’s always driven by his emotions and feels too deeply, he’s never felt entirely like he’s fit in aside from when he’s with you. Brought up too poor to be used to being rich, too loving to be entirely safe, too traumatised to ever feel normal. Jason Todd isn’t a stagnant person, he feels in contradictions, he hurts and he loves. But he’s still here.

How can a painting capture all of that?

Letting your hands work before your mind catches up, you begin to paint over his back regardless.

You spend time meticulously stroking your brush over his skin, letting your hands flow at points and taking a more controlled approach for other sections. A few times, your paints dry out and you have to mix them all over again, but Jason lies there without complaint. In fact, his shoulders gradually ease and his eyes remain closed as if this were some sort of massage.

It must take over an hour for you to finish it and, by the time it’s dried, you can’t help but nervously bite your lip. “I’m done.”

You see his eyes flutter open as he hums. “Hm?”

An endeared smile instantly crosses your face. “Did you nap?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I’m finished now.” You run your hands down his sides before standing up, reaching for a tissue to wipe off your hands.

“What did you paint?” He asks softly, pushing himself up on his elbows to rise to his feet beside you.

“Why don’t you have a look?”

He narrows his eyes at you skeptically but you give him a reassuring nod in response and reach for his hand, carefully pulling him alongside you to the bathroom.

“Here, honey.” You murmur as you direct him to the mirror, carefully turning him around so he can look over his shoulder at the results.

Across his muscles and scars, you’d painted a landscape: a red, swirling storm above the silhouette of a gothic city, punctuated by a pale sun shining behind the clouds in the corner. Within the storm, there are a few dots of light peeking through, the buildings beneath it standing firm despite its force.

It’s simple and detailed simultaneously. The array of reds clearly reflect Jason’s colour scheme, while the tragedy grounded in the architecture and the turmoil of the storm reveal his inner conflict. Perhaps, in combination, the warm colours are what makes the storm seem so ferocious. Maybe it’s the reds that draw the attention from the sadness in the buildings below it. Yet, the light somehow still stands out. A literal array of lights in his storm that is overshadowed by the conflict around it.

“I know the goth stuff isn’t entirely your vibe.” You stammer out, watching as he stares at himself in the mirror. “But… this is how I see you, I guess, so…” You trail off, nervously clasping your hands as your eyes flutter between his face and the landscape.

“This is how you see me?” He murmurs, finally finding your eyes.

“Well, close enough to it.”

His breath catches and he looks back at his reflection once more. “It’s so beautiful.” He responds after a moment, eyes scanning over the array of colours. “You… included my scars.”

You nod, looking back at your painting. Some of the city’s towers follow the jaggedy turns of his scars, while some of the storm curves with their path. It’s nothing more than a light bump within the piece, a subtle detail, but Jason notices it because it’s more than that to him. His history entwined with his being.

“Do you like it?” You whisper.

“Like it?” He repeats, a small smile creeping onto his face the longer he gazes at it. “Sweetheart, I love it.”

You grin. “Really?”

“Yeah. I’ve never seen my body in this kind of light before.” He reaches over to you now, cupping your face in his hands and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Thank you, my love.”

It’s only when he pulls back that you see the utter, unmistakable adoration in his eyes.

Jason is painted in a bad light by many: the gullible Robin, the dangerous vigilante, even the angry member of the family. It’s far too easy for him to fall into these assumptions when he doesn’t have a proper understanding of himself.

But to see himself as something more than that? Something beautiful?

It’s something he never realised that he’d never had before.

All of your current tattoos are from him too. Tiny constellations scattered along your ribs. The moth beneath your collarbone that he freehanded at three in the morning because neither of you could sleep. A koi fish running down the curve of your hip. Every single piece carries his fingerprints in it somewhere.

The fairy lights hung around the room have been dimmed low, the coffee table pushed aside, and his client chair unfolded in the open space near the big window. Soft rain taps against the glass from the outside, and some calm lo-fi music plays throughout the apartment to set the mood and calm your nerves, even if you’ve planned this for a while𑁋Joshua had sacrificed hours upon hours to bring your idea to life. You can’t back away from this now. 

The idea is a long, elegant spine tattoo: a powerful dragon that coils gracefully down your back with its body and sharp scales interwoven with delicate cherry blossoms. Strength and softness tangled together, exactly as you had imagined. You remember when you first told him about it and the way his eyes had grown wide, like a mixture of excitement and awe, but also… a subtle pinch of fear.

Because it’s you, and he knows that he can’t afford to screw up, especially with something as permanent as a tattoo. You’re willingly offering a big piece of yourself for him to mark, and that’s a huge weight he’s had to carry while sketching out your concept. There’s no undo button for that kind of trust. 

“I’ve thought about this for a long time, Shua,” You tell him firmly, though there’s that twitch of your nerves to your voice that doesn’t go unnoticed. “There’s no going back now.”

Joshua’s eyes turn fond, taking a step closer to you. He’s wearing a sleeveless black top, the fabric stretching across his chest and showing off the ink drawn over his skin. One of his arms is completely bare of any tattoos, but his other is a beautiful canvas of pieces he’s collected over the years𑁋some intricate fineline, others that are more bold and striking. He even has some dotted over his ribs as well, particularly the Gemini tattoo that you love kissing.

He reaches out instinctively, sliding his arms around your waist to pull you closer to him. Your head falls onto his chest naturally, breathing him in, giving him the opportunity to press a kiss to the top of your head. You can feel his steady heartbeat against your cheek, and it helps to lessen your nerves a little.

After all, it’s temporary pain for something permanent on your skin forever. And of course, it’s created by the man you love. 

“Alright,” he murmurs, pulling back to look at you properly. “Let’s get you ready then, love. Can I take this off you?”

His fingers linger underneath your (his) shirt, tracing circles on your back as if he’s drawing it out on you. It sends shivers of anticipation up and down your spine. He’s giving you one last chance to change your mind, but you both already know you won’t.

You tilt your head to look at him back. “Yes. Please.”

You swear you see his eyes darken for a split second at your words. Without another word, he leads you to the mirror perched in the corner, turns your back to him, and peels the oversized shirt off slow enough it almost seems like he’s purposely teasing you. You help by lifting your arms as it slips off you, leaving you bare from the waist up. You’re not even wearing a bra underneath, and you hear him suck in a sharp breath.

For a second, he just… stares at you in the mirror, lips pursing at the way your nipples tighten in the cool air. Then he drinks in the sight of your bare back𑁋his beautiful untouched canvas𑁋taking in how the dim lighting in the room highlights the line of your spine and the elegant curve of your shoulders. The thought that he’s about to leave something permanent there visibly makes him swallow. 

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters, mostly to himself. “How am I supposed to concentrate for the next six hours when you look like this?”

“Like what?” You ask amusedly, meeting his heated gaze in the mirror.

“Like a goddess,” he finishes roughly, letting a hand hover near your waist, close but not exactly touching you, as if he’s scared to ruin you with carelessness. “A masterpiece I shouldn’t be allowed to worship.”

Heat blooms through your face at that. You grab his hand that’s lingering over your side, guiding it to where he’s finally touching you properly. His palm is slightly cold at first, but it warms instantly the second he’s touches your skin. His other hand joins in, sliding up your ribs until both palms rest just beneath your breasts, thumbs tenderly brushing the undersides. Then he leans in to kiss a line down from your nape, nipping gently on where your neck meets your shoulder. 

He smiles against your skin when he feels you tremble in his hold.

“I love it when you worship me,” You tell him quietly.

Immediately, you swear you see the way your words make his mind flash𑁋perhaps with images of past intimate nights with your bodies tangled in bed together, his mouth between your thighs for hours, marking his territory on top of his own art. He also imagines how you’d look from behind when he sinks inside𑁋

“On the chair now,” he orders, forcing himself backward. “before I lose my mind.”

With a breathless giggle, you sit down on the client chair, straddling it so that your chest is pinned against the leather backrest. The position leaves your entire back deliciously exposed to him. You hear the sound of gloves being snapped on and the roll of his stool wheeling right next to you. Even though you can’t see him, you still feel the heat of his eyes roaming over you.

The next few minutes are spent cleaning you. Joshua’s gloved hands move slowly as he wipes your entire back down with antiseptic solution, his thumbs applying some reassuring pressure along your spine. You shiver when it hits your skin, and he notices immediately. 

“You’re shaking,” he murmurs. “Still okay?”

“Mhm,” You breathe, eyes half-closed. “Just… sensitive.”

He hums in understanding, then leans in to place a soft kiss to your shoulder blade.

Once your skin is clean, he carefully applies the stencil. He smooths it down your skin inch by inch with both hands from the nape of your neck all the way to the curve just above your ass. You can already imagine every detail of it𑁋the long, coiling scaly body of the dragon, along with the delicate cherry blossom branches that will soften it. 

When the stencil is peeled away, both the room and Joshua take a collective deep breath together. 

The dragon already looks beautifully alive on your skin. Its serpentine body twists down the length of your spine, the tail end just above the waistband of your lounge shorts. Cherry blossom petals and branches burst along its scales, a few petals seemingly drifting free like a small breeze across your skin. The lines are fine, crisp, perfect. Even Joshua himself seems completely speechless of the linework that he created. 

There’s really nobody else that you trust more than him to do this. 

“Wow,” he utters out softly, refusing to blink for a few seconds as if he’s scared you’ll vanish. “You look… illegal, baby.”

A choked laugh leaves you, reality settling within your bones that you’re seriously doing this. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He caresses a gloved finger down your back right beside the stencil. “You’re really going to sit through this, huh?”

“You’re really going to make me sit through it.”

“Fair,” he quips with a grin, before exhaling a breath through his nose. “But if it gets too much or becomes too painful, you tell me immediately, okay? We’re only doing the outline for today, then shading later another time.”

You glance at him over your shoulder, wiggling a brow at him. “Bossy.”

“I’m serious,” Joshua says pointedly, yet there’s a layer of softness underneath. “This is your body, love.”

That lands more harder than it should.

Your smile fades and brightens at the same time. “And I trust you with it, Shua. I always have.” 

Joshua pauses from where he’s been squeezing out the black ink into some tiny plastic caps. For a moment, you see the professional artist facade on his face crack and sparkle of love in his eyes. Because after all, he is your boyfriend𑁋the man who kisses your forehead when you’re sick and the one who’s about to carve forever on your skin with hands that’s thoroughly mapped every inch of you. 

He rolls his stool until he’s right in front of you. Without any hesitation, he leans in to steal a slow, deep kiss to your lips, leaning his forehead against yours for a minute. 

“Then let me make this perfect for you, my brave girl,” he whispers assuringly, rolling himself back beside you. The sound of the machine buzzing to life cuts through the rain shower outside and the low tunes of his playlist. “Colour system, alright? I’ll work my way from the top to the bottom.” 

You nod, gripping the top of the client chair a little tighter as the familiar buzz of the tattoo machine fills the room. After getting multiple pieces done already, you find the sound oddly comforting now, especially if it’s with Joshua. 

When the needle touches down at the nape of your neck, your lips tighten together into a thin line and you have to force yourself not to flinch. You feel the vibrations of the machine carry into your skull as Joshua starts to outline the head of the dragon, keeping one hand settled at the small of your back anytime the needle starts dragging to more sensitive flesh. 

Each precise pass sends little sparks of fire down your nerves, some of them curling low in your belly in a way that feels way inappropriate given the situation. As the long minutes drag by, you close your eyes and rest your forehead onto the cool leather backrest. Every so often Joshua lifts the machine to wipe away any excess ink and blood, and to plant soothing kisses beside the fresh ink as if to apologise for the pain and praise you for your strength at the same time. It’s strangely intimate𑁋letting him mark you like this, claim you like this. 

Minutes slowly blur to an hour. The silence is filled mostly with Joshua updating you with the progress so far and checking in on you, the occasional sigh of discomfort from your lips when the needle hits a particularly sensitive spot on your spine, and his playlist now shifting to some smooth jazz (Sade, mostly). By the time the second hour hits, Joshua kills the machine for a short break, which gives you the opportunity to finally stretch from being stuck in the chair for so long.

“The head and neck are done,” he tells you, ditching the gloves and offering you some water. “How are you feeling?”

You extend your arms up to the ceiling, groaning at the sensitivity in your muscles. 

“Stiff,” You admit hoarsely, rolling your shoulders carefully. “Burns like hell near my spine. But… I’m okay. I want to keep going.” 

Joshua watches you with soft, attentive eyes as you take the glass of water from him. The sleeveless top he’s wearing clings to his frame from the warmth of the room. His gaze drifts down your bare torso and the redness of your skin from where the needle had been, lingering on the way your breasts move as you stretch, before flicking back up to your face. 

His sweatpants are beginning to feel uncomfortably tight too, but he tries to ignore the feeling with an audible cough out of his throat. The professionalism is hanging on by a thread at this point. Because you’re still technically his ‘client’, despite the fact that you both sleep in the same bed together every day and he knows your mind and body by heart. 

But you’re also his girlfriend… who is completely topless in front of him. So his thoughts are basically bound to go haywire. 

“Alright, try to relax for me again, baby,” Joshua instructs, snapping on a fresh pair of gloves. He leans over you, close enough that the warmth of his body hits your skin, and presses a hand between your shoulder blades to guide you back into position. “You’re doing so good for me, you know that?”

The machine buzzes back to life, and the needle meets your skin once more with that delicious burn, causing an unconscious whimper to tumble out of you. The dragon’s body is thicker towards the middle of your back, but Joshua works his way down with steady and careful strokes, ink blooming beneath your skin like ribbons.

But you can sense the shift in him. 

His breathing grows heavier with every involuntary sound you let out from the pain or how your back arches beautifully when a raw area is drawn over, brows furrowed together as he works in concentration, even if it’s fraying by each minute that passes. 

When he finally reaches the tail-end of the dragon𑁋just above the waistband of your shorts and the swell of your ass𑁋the needle drags across the sensitive skin of your lower back, sending sharp sparks straight down your spine and between your legs. You can’t stop the soft, needy moan that escapes you this time. 

“Colour?” Joshua asks, wiping away the excess ink. 

A shaky breath leaves you, trying to steady yourself even if your body feels like it’s been set ablaze in the best and worst ways. 

“Green… mostly,” You mutter in response. “It’s a lot on the lower back, but I can take it.”

Joshua hums in acknowledgement, offering a reassuring squeeze to your hip. You feel him shift on the stool beside you, his gloved hand roaming down your lower back and stopping just shy of the waistband of your shorts. One of his fingers slides underneath from behind to trace the sensitive skin there teasingly. 

His warm breath fans against you, a smug smirk on his face that you can’t see but can definitely sense. “I can tell you’re wet for me, love.” 

Heat instantly floods your cheeks, embarrassment crawling up your spine. “Shua…”

“Dirty girl,” he says with a low chuckle, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. “Getting turned on by me marking up your back, hm?”

You bite at your bottom lip hard in embarrassment, both mortified and aroused at the same time. The bastard knows you too well. 

“I can’t help it,” You mumble shyly, refusing to look at him. “It feels good… especially with your hands on me.” 

Joshua gives a playful snap to his gloves, causing you to flinch in the seat out of pure anticipation. God, it kills him to see how needy you are for him right now𑁋but he has a job to finish and he’s determined to do so. He’s blessed at being able to keep his patience afloat, most times to tease you more than anything; otherwise, he would have you bent over the chair right now. 

“I still have the lower back to finish,” he reminds you, reluctantly pulling his hand away from you. “Think you can behave long enough for me to do it?” 

You nod your head, even as you grind subtly into the chair for that small ounce of friction. You say yes, but you both know that’s a lie. 

The machine whirs back to life instantly. When the sharp stick of the needle meets the sensitive skin of your lower back, your whole body reacts. The skin there is tender and sensitive after the long hours of being worked over. And the second Joshua drags another line across your lower back, your hips twitch up involuntarily as you fight to stay still. If today is only for the outline, you could only imagine how the shading process would be like. 

“Breathe for me, love,” Joshua coos lightly, pausing for a minute. He flattens a hand to the curve of your waist to hold you down and rub circles on your skin. “Lower back is evil, I know. Just a little more.”

Easy for him to say.

You feel the vibrations of the machine travel straight through your pelvis. Your grip tightens around the leather backrest, breasts pressed flush against the chair as you try to breathe through the stinging fire licking up your spine. 

“So pretty like this,” he praises absentmindedly as he draws out the cherry blossom petals. “Taking it so well for me, sweetheart…”

You can’t tell if the praise makes it better or worse. Worse, probably𑁋it sinks hotter into your skin than the needle does. You’re probably soaked as well. Embarrassingly so, since his hands have been on you the entire time, and the words that come out are in that familiar adoring tone he only uses in the bedroom with you. You’re not sure if what you’re feeling is pain or need anymore. 

Joshua knows it too. His low chuckle vibrates through the quiet room as he continues the final outlines on the cherry blossoms right where the tail curls. 

After what feels like a literal eternity, the machine is finally killed off for the last time, and the room falls into a strange kind of silence with the exception of your ridiculously heavy breathing. The relief is immediate when the needle is away from your burning skin, but the desperate ache between your thighs continues to throb. You near the loud snap of Joshua removing his latex gloves and rolling his stool back to retrieve the aftercare supplies.

Joshua takes his precious time wiping away what remains of the excess ink over your inflamed skin. After everything is pat dry, he applies a final layer of soothing ointment, before slowly rolling on the second skin, pressing it down with careful palms from the nape of your neck all the way to the curve of your lower back. The cool, transparent film material settles protectively over the fresh dragon and cherry blossoms, sealing them in. 

The moment he’s done, you hear him lean back on the stool, just staring at you𑁋and his work𑁋for a long minute. You lift your head to glance at him over your shoulder.

He looks completely wrecked. There’s some exhaustion there obviously, fatigue sitting directly beneath his eyes from all the long hours of concentration. But the heat in his gaze is unmistakable. 

“Are you gonna say something or just stare at me forever?” You ask him with a sly look. 

Joshua blinks as if you pulled him out of a trance. 

“God, come here, love,” he urges, and before you can respond, he’s pulling you by the arms and leading you towards the large mirror in the corner of the room. 

He positions you right in front of the mirror, standing behind you with his hands resting on your hips. The fairy lights cast a warm glow across your skin, almost making the second skin on your back shimmer faintly. 

“Look,” Joshua whispers hotly, spinning you gently so your back is visible in the reflection. “Look at what we made together.”

Your breath catches in your throat when you catch sight of the tattoo for the very first time. The dragon coils elegantly down your spine as if it had always belonged there. Cherry blossom branches and petals drift along its body like they’re caught in a permanent spring breeze. The head rests between your shoulder blades while the tail disappears low near the waistband of your shorts. It looks almost alive. 

“Shua…” You breathe, unable to find the proper words from how stunned you are as you peer back up at him. “It’s beautiful.”

Joshua nuzzles his nose into your hair, inhaling you in, before tilting his head slightly so that his mouth barely grazes your neck. 

“Yeah?” he murmurs, gliding his hands up your sides, stopping short of your breasts. “It’s more than beautiful, love. It’s perfect on you.” 

A kiss to your neck severs any kind of response you could say, stealing the words right off your tongue and replacing it with a soft, trembling breath. Joshua smiles against your skin, pulling more shaky sighs out of you as he kisses his way down to your collarbone. 

When he pulls away, your eyes lock together. In the small space between your bodies, you can feel the hours of lingering tension, pain, pride, and need. Joshua’s gaze is dark, full of love and unbridled hunger. You only have to flick your attention down to his lips once before he’s on you. 

Joshua’s mouth crashes onto yours, fueled by the desperation that’s been simmering for the past few hours. His tongue slides against yours like he’s trying to taste every sound of discomfort and pleasure that left you. You moan softly into his mouth as your hands tangle up in his dark hair, his arms sliding around you to pull you closer but ensuring to not put any pressure on your freshly tattooed back. You can feel how hard he is through his sweatpants. 

“Careful, beautiful,” he breathes against your lips, even as he walks you backward until the backs of your knees collide with the client chair. “It’s still fresh. I’m not ruining my best work because I can’t keep my hands off you.” 

But the way he’s kissing you says otherwise. And the way his fingers wander underneath your shorts to cup your clothed pussy says otherwise, too. 

“I need you, Shua,” You mutter breathlessly, hands sliding underneath his sleeveless top as you feel his fingers glide through your soaked folds. “Please… want you inside me.”

Joshua groans at your pleads, exhaling harshly through his nose.

“God, how can I ever deny you?” he rasps darkly, guiding you around so that your chest is braced up against the side of the chair. “Keep that pretty back arched for me, baby.” 

You obey instantly, folding forward and resting your forearms on the seat. The position leaves you shamelessly exposed for him, your back arching beautifully so that he has the perfect sight of the dragon tattoo from behind.

Joshua’s breath catches. “Fuck, just like that…”

You hear the rustle of fabric as he finally pushes his sweatpants and boxers down his thighs. Then you feel him drag down your lounge shorts in one smooth motion, letting them pool at your ankles. He steps up behind you, one hand smoothing up the back of your thigh while the other kneads at the soft flesh of your hip, thumb brushing just beneath the edge of the second skin. 

He leans in to plant open-mouthed over the untouched skin of your back, his hardened cock nudging teasingly at your entrance. The heat of his breath ghosts across your spine as he drags his lips slowly upward.

“Still okay?” he whispers, voice rough yet still tainted with that familiar tenderness that makes your chest ache. “Tell me if anything hurts, love.”

You subtly grind yourself back against him, aching for more. He grips your hips even more tightly at the contact.

“I’m okay,” You reassure him, voice trembling with need. “Want all of you, Shua… please.”

Joshua presses one more lingering, grateful kiss to the centre of your upper back right beside the dragon’s head as if to silently say thank you, before slowly pushing the thick head of his cock inside your soaked entrance. The two of you moan softly at the familiarity of your bodies joining together. His bare chest leans protectively over your body, close enough that you feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat against your back. 

He slowly enters you inch by inch, letting you feel every ridge and vein inside until his hips are flush against your ass. A shared, breathy moans from the two of you travels through the quiet apartment. He stays still for a long moment, just to savour the feeling of being perfectly connected with you and to let you adjust. One of his arms wraps gently around your waist to rest a warm palm over your stomach as he continues to worship attention to every inch of skin he can reach with his mouth. 

Then he starts to move𑁋unhurried deep thrusts that drags his cock alongside your sensitive walls. His hand on your stomach lowers until they’re between your legs, fingers seeking your clit and running through your wetness to bring that added pleasure. You push back against him, desperate for more, but he keeps the pace torturously steady.

“Take it easy, sweetheart,” Joshua murmurs against the shell of your ear. “Don’t move too much. Let me take care of you.”

His free hand tantalisingly traces the edge of the second skin. The sight of his art on your spine while he fucks you spurs him on even further. With a guttural groan, he starts to pick up the pace, still mindful of your back but unable to hold himself back completely. The wet sounds of your bodies mixes in with your broken whimpers, each thrust sending thrilling flames of pain and pleasure down your body.

You grip the leather chair even tighter, your back arching deeper instinctively. “Shua𑁋right there𑁋fuck𑁋”

Joshua curses under his breath. He angles his hips slightly to kiss that particular spot that makes your vision blur, his fingers moving on your clit even faster.

“That’s it,” he praises thickly in that low, filthy register you love, giving an encouraging squeeze to your ass. “Let me hear you, love. You took my needle so fucking well… and now you’re taking my cock just as pretty. Been thinking about this every single minute I was marking you.” 

His words make you clench tightly around him, drawing a deep groan out of his chest. His hips begin to snap harder into you, causing your head to helplessly fall onto the cool leather of the chair as he continues fucking you from behind. Every thrust sends your breasts crushing harder into the chair, nipples aching from the friction. 

You’re so embarrassingly close already from the hours of teasing, the needle’s sting, and his cock driving in and out of you at a relentless rhythm. 

“My perfect canvas… my masterpiece…” he murmurs possessively against your skin, sending another rush of heat through you. “All mine to mark, to worship, and fuck.” 

When your legs start to shake, Joshua notices it immediately, responding by rubbing more tighter circles on your clit, exactly how you like it. His own rhythm starts to falter as he feels himself nearing the edge as well, but he doesn’t dare slow down. He wants𑁋no, craves𑁋to see you fall apart while his art is still fresh on your back. 

“Shua𑁋shit𑁋I’m close, so close𑁋” You pant hoarsely, feeling the coil in your stomach wind tighter and tighter. 

“Yeah?” he asks, teeth grazing over your shoulder. “Cum on my cock, baby. You’re squeezing me so good𑁋come on, sweetheart𑁋”

That’s all it takes.

Your orgasm crashes into your hard, a broken sob of his name tearing out of your throat as your walls pulse around him. The pleasure and fiery pain ripping through your body only heightens your release even stronger. Joshua’s hips stutter against you, his fingers working through you to draw every last sigh until you’re sensitive and gasping. 

When the last hints of your orgasm fades, he finally lets himself go as well, burying himself deep inside of you with a short-winded grunt. His forehead drops onto the slick skin of your shoulder, his chest rising and falling heavily against you. 

Neither of you move for a while, only listening to one another’s ragged breathing as you both come down from your intense releases together. Joshua reaches down to intertwine his hand with yours that’s been gripping the chair so tautly. 

“You okay?” he asks breathlessly while caressing a tender finger over your hip bone with his free hand. “Does anything hurt?”

You let out a shaky, yet contented chuckle. “Everything burns a little, but… it’s good. Really good.” You give a reassuring squeeze to his hand. “Mmmh… you’re insatiable.”

Joshua hums in relief. “You’re the insatiable one, my love. Have you seen yourself? And we still have to do the shading𑁋how am I supposed to hold myself back for that?”

Your cheeks flare up at his words, causing you to smack him playfully on the rear, but he retaliates with a tender kiss to the side of your neck. Then he cautiously pulls out of you, the two of you hissing at the sensitivity. He helps you straighten up before spinning you around to give you a proper kiss on the lips, bringing that shy giggle out of you that he adores so much when he draws back.

He angles your body slightly to check the second skin on your back, making sure it’s secure.

“Everything looks good,” he says, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “It’s going to heal so beautifully on you. I’ll make sure of it.”

You grin up at him with hazy eyes. “I know you will.”

As he helps you back into your shirt and puts on his own clothes, he leads you to your shared bedroom. Now that the healing process has started, he knows he can’t wait to see how it’ll look entirely completed in its beauty𑁋when he can run his fingertips over it without worry, and maybe, just maybe, when he can pin you down into the sheets and worship his work on you once again. 

Because you still have to get through the shading sessions.

And he plans to make each one unforgettable.

perm taglist (open) ʚɞ

@sn4psh00t @slytherinshua @seungkw1 @etherealyoungk @bananabubble

@parakissss @eskoupe @gent1es3xy @cherryophile @jaja-salute

“Terrorism? Wow, tell us how you really feel, Y/N,” Jun retorts playfully. “But fine. Anon, if they’ve been feeding you breadcrumbs for half a year, that’s basically emotional warfare. Please save yourself and block them on everything𑁋and yes, that includes on Spotify.”

You snort at that, tapping your pen against your script notes that you’ve been barely following anyway. The show had practically devolved from advice to whatever banter you and Jun had cooked up on the spot. “Exactly. Listeners, if your situationship has an expiration date longer than expired milk, it’s time to toss it. Jun is too sweet to say it, so I’ll do it. Run.” 

“I𑁋’too sweet’?!” A dramatic gasp tumbles out of Jun as he spins his chair toward you. “I was the one who told last week’s caller to roast her boyfriend’s dick like a marshmallow because he kept forgetting her birthday!” 

“But you said it with, like, the sweetest voice ever!”

“That man deserved to get emotionally blue-balled! How can you forget your girlfriend’s own birthday for a second year in a row?” 

You roll your eyes so hard it’s basically audible over the mic. “God, Junhui, you have the emotional range of a raccoon.” 

“I’ll take it.” Jun grins at that, thrusting his shoulders back as if he’s trying to appear bigger and more intimidating. “At least raccoons are cute, right?” 

On your laptop, the chat is going crazy.

user: here we go again with their flirty banter 🙄 user: JUST GET MARRIED ALREADY YOU TWO!!!!!!!!! user: i swear this radio show is hosted by 2 delusional idiots user: i think they should kiss idk

“No, we shouldn’t!” You exclaim at the chat like you’re scolding a bunch of twelve-year olds. 

Jun nearly hops out of his seat. “Wait, I agree!” 

“Wen Junhui!”

“What? I was agreeing with you!” 

“That was not you agreeing with me,” You groan. “You agreed to kissing me.” 

“Well, the chat started it, so don’t put all the blame on me,” Jun says with a pout, folding his arms together. “Plus, it would be good for ratings, wouldn’t it?” 

Your eyes bulge out of your skull, your mind and face flaming up. “You’re such a𑁋we host a radio show, not a damn lab!”

“Chemistry is still relevant! And chemistry is needed for relationships!” 

“We are not in a relationship, oh my, God.”

“Hypothetically, Y/N. Think hypotheticals.” Jun clicks his tongue, letting out playful tsk-tsk-tsk. “I’m telling you our ratings would absolutely skyrocket.”

You fight back the smile threatening to split your face in half, but there’s no point in trying to battle it. After being best friends with Jun for most of your life and witnessing pretty much all the stupid shit he has ever said or done, you’ve long accepted that his brand of chaos is the only thing in this world that can make your chest too tight and too warm at the same time. Especially if it involves the playful flirting you’ve been bouncing on for years. 

“Whatever, to answer your question𑁋raccoons are cute, but they’re also known for making stupid life decisions,” You point out with a victorious smirk. “So, maybe not the best comparison to make. It’s accurate, regardless.”

“Harsh,” he whines, but his eyes𑁋those stupid, unfairly expressive eyes of his𑁋sparkle with teasing delight. “Alright, onto the final submission of the night. Anonymous says…”

Dear Y/N and Jun of Love On Air, I’ve been supporting the show since the very beginning, and now, I think I’m in trouble enough to make a submission.  I’m in love with my best friend. I have been for years and it struck me pretty hard this morning. Is it weird to say when I first met them it felt like love at first sight? We talk every day to the point that everyone assumes we’re together, but we’re not. They’re kind, funny, and sometimes I think they deserve someone better than me. But is it selfish of me to say that I want to keep them in my life forever? Even if that line isn’t crossed?  What should I do??? 🐱

The studio falls silent for a few moments after Jun finishes reading. The shift in the air is immediately noticeable, as if all the oxygen had been sucked out of the room. When Jun picks his head back up to look at you after reading the confession, his usual smirk is still in place, but fades just a tad when he catches the contemplative expression on your face.

“Hello? Earth to Y/N?”

“Huh?” You blink back up at him. “Oh, shit. Right, uh…”

You can’t tell if it’s the late night hour getting to you or something else entirely. You’ve received so many similar confessions before𑁋a best friend falling in love with their other half, the slow and torturous ache of unspoken feelings, the fear of messing up something that’s already so beautiful itself. And ultimately, your advice has always stayed the same.

But when you meet eyes with Jun, it’s as if the words have completely cut your tongue off. You finally clear your throat. 

“First of all, welcome cat anon to the club of people who are all vicariously and collectively screwed together,” You say, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “And I wish we hadn’t read yours at the very last minute since we’re about in end in five𑁋”

Jun lifts a brow. “Wait, we have about fifteen𑁋”

“𑁋but I’ll just say that you aren’t selfish for wanting to keep them in your life. But you are doing a disservice keeping it locked away forever. This kind of love doesn’t come around twice. So tell them, even if it scares you. What’s the worst that could happen, you know?” 

You can feel Jun’s heavy gaze linger on the side of your face.

“Exactly, anon,” he jumps in like the professional he is. “Ripping the band-aid off would only hurt temporarily, right? And if it doesn’t work out, we’ll be here next week with some ice cream recommendations to help you cope.” 

“Keep in mind what Jun said, guys,” You say, forcing a small laugh. “Thank you all for turning into Love On Air. Stay honest, stay unhinged, and send that one person a risky text. If you want to submit a confession, please send one to our email. We are live every Saturday on FM 98.7! Goodnight, everyone!” 

You kill your microphone first as the ON LIVE sign on the wall blinks out with a soft click. Jun switches off his microphone right after, and the silence that washes over the studio is louder than anything else. 

For a moment, neither of you moves.

You still feel the ghost of Jun’s gaze warm on your cheek from when you were giving advice just a minute ago. It’s silly, really𑁋how one singular anonymous confession is enough to make you think and contemplate so hard. You’ve given advice to more people than you can count on your hands and toes, but this specific one feels as if it grew limbs, crawled out of the screen, and sat itself between you and him. 

“You rushed that ending,” Jun interrupts your thoughts as he swings his coat over his shoulders. 

You scoff lightly. “I did not.”

“Did too.”

“I literally answered the question,” You shoot back, narrowing your eyes at him. “That’s our job.”

“Exactly,” he hums in response, leaning his elbow on the desk and resting his chin lazily in his palm. “You answered it like it was your first time ever hearing it.” 

A pause.

“When it’s not.”

It’s not. But why𑁋out of all goddamn times you’ve read the same exact fear𑁋did this one feel like someone jabbed a finger at your chest and said: here, this is yours? 

You force a laugh at that, letting out a deprecating shrug. “Maybe I’m just getting sentimental at my big age.” 

“You’re literally younger than me.”

“Only by a few months. Your argument is irrelevant, grandpa.”

Jun tilts his head at your words, pushing himself off the table and invading your personal space as always. He stands only a step away from you, observing the way you’re speedily packing your belongings like some kind of punishment. When you face back up at him, he gives a light flick to your forehead. His touch lingers for a few seconds, before he brushes a stray strand of hair behind your ear. It’s playful and casual, but the way your skin tingles after isn’t. 

Your heart does a stupid little flip in your chest. 

“Come on, youngling, I’ll drive you home,” he says with a cheesy smile, dangling his car keys off his finger. 

A groan leaves you as you allow him to drag you by the wrist and out of the studio. 

To be honest, the radio show started off as one big fat joke. 

It started in sophomore year of college, where you and Jun were nothing but a pair of dumb, broke college kids. Then you both decided to sign a quick gig for the campus radio station because you thought it would look good on your resumes. The two of you were supposed to do the boring music hour𑁋basically play whatever indie crap the station manager liked and read weather updates every morning. 

But that didn’t exactly go as planned, as the majority of those sessions were spent with you both roasting each other’s music tastes live on air, and for some reason, the listeners seemed to eat that dynamic up. 

In one particular session, Jun opened up the radio station email box live on air. You both expected for another complaint, which wasn’t uncommon knowing how immature the two of you act sometimes. However, it wasn’t a complaint this time.

It was a confession.

A girl had written about how she’d been in love with her roommate for the past two years and didn’t know how to voice it without ruining their lease together. Jun read it when his microphone was supposed to be switched off, and something in the studio shifted that night. 

“Do… we answer it?” Jun had asked you warily. 

You had hesitated for once, before a sudden surge of determination filled you. Perhaps it’s the delirium of two idiots who believed they could wing it, or the thought that a random person decided to reach out to both of you𑁋out of anyone else𑁋was the reason for the determination. Either way, you looked across at Jun that night and said, “Yeah. Let’s answer it.” 

And that was that. 

The rest of the semester became an absolute rollercoaster of love confessions, messy breakups, love bombers, situationships that made you want to pull your hair out, and the two of you slowly carving a name for yourselves as the unfiltered chaotic duo who gave sarcastic advice that came straight from the heart. The campus station extended their time slot, then the local radio station in the city picked the two of you up. 

Somewhere along the way, and four years later, Love On Air stopped being a joke and became a real thing you and Jun committed together every Saturday at midnight𑁋your own little pocket of chaos in an otherwise normal adult life. For the most part, at least, because pining for your best friend is totally counted as normal. 

Wen Junhui came into your life like a stray cat who decided that your doorstep looked comfortable enough to stay forever. Uninvited and unpredictable, way too pretty for his own good, yet somehow always exactly where you needed him to be. He randomly plopped down right next to you during freshman orientation, snatched the last macaron on your plate, and gave you a look that said you’d be fun to annoy for the next four years before introducing his name. 

You’d never admit how absolutely starstruck you were the first time he smiled at you. Or laughed. You told yourself you were just sleep deprived and lonely being in the city all by yourself, but deep down, the voice in your head at that moment said that you wanted to keep him. 

You should have been annoyed. But instead you laughed and nearly choked on your water, and that was it. Game over. And you became each other’s favourite person without either of you having to put a label on it. Best friend felt too small, and soulmate felt too big and scary for two broke college kids who couldn’t dedicate themselves to a single major. 

So you just… existed together. Thrived together. Grew together through the most stupidest decisions known to mankind. 

And at some point down the road, that stray cat curled up into your chest and refused to leave.

“Listeners, let’s give a full round of applause to user derangedcarat for cutting off their cheating ex-partner,” You announce into the microphone, clapping your hands like a proud mom at a recital. The chat explodes immediately. 

user: 👏👏👏👏 user: FINALLY i’m so proud of u user derangedcarat queen user: anyone who cheats on their partner needs to be put on death row user: ^^^ preach!!!

“And you did the hard part, user derangedcarat,” Jun adds in. “We love growth in this household. Maybe email us a screenshot of the block so we can frame it in the studio here.” 

“Exactly, and please don’t forget to take care of yourself,” You reassure into the microphone. “Block, delete, go touch some grass if you need to. You deserve someone who actually respects you.”

The next confessions run by in a blur over the next hour. Someone sends in a confession asking if it’s weird to still be hung on their high school ex, another person confesses that they’ve been naming their house plants after people who ghosted them, which the two of you undoubtedly praise for creativity. 

To top off the chaos, there’s one submission an anonymous user submits with screenshots of cringe-worthy flirty text messages from a man they’re talking to, with the sender begging for the two of you to rate the messages on a scale of “smooth operator” to “immediate block”.

Jun narrows his eyes toward the screen. “Y/N, listen to this: ‘hey babygirl, how’s your night been? mine was spent thinking about u 😏’. Sent at 2:19 in the morning, left on read for three days.” 

You burst out laughing, cheeks puffing out to the point it hurts. “Oh, my God. Solid negative five. That’s a biohazard right there.”

“That’s way too generous,” Jun snorts while spinning in his chair. “Anon, this man is serving nothing but expired milk. Please save yourself a headache and block his number.” 

Heartbreak, confessions, and ridiculous stories𑁋you and Jun tag-team them over the next hour like strong duo you are, with the chatting eating up every particularly brutal line that leaves either of your mouths. This is what seems to happen when you give two nocturnal people a cup of bitter tar coffee and the free will to say whatever they please. 

By the time the final minutes of the session comes, you and Jun decide to read out one last confession. 

“...Cat anon is back with a follow-up confession.”

You perk up curiously at that. “Really? What does it say?” 

Jun hesitates briefly, before clearing his throat. 

Dear Y/N and Jun of Love On Air, Hi, it’s me again. The one who wrote the other week. Thank you both so much for responding to me. I listened to every word you guys said, and I think you’re right. I was almost brave the other night𑁋had this whole stupid mental speech planned to tell them when we were hanging out together. But I… chickened out. Again. Really dumb of me, I know.  And I know that I look like a coward who needs a weekly pep talk, but this show feels like the only safe space I’m able to confess this. I do have a question for the two of you to answer and discuss. Do you think there’s such a thing as ‘perfect love’?  I think that’s my dilemma right now. I want to be perfect for them. I want to give them that perfect love that they deserve. But how can I do that, knowing who I am? 🐱

The studio falls into a gentle kind of quiet after Jun finishes reading. The words are still processing deeply through your mind when he warily lifts his eyes back up at you, lingering on your concentrated expression. Then his heart stutters in his chest when you meet his eyes as if he got caught doing something wrong. 

“Jun, why don’t you answer it first?” 

Jun blinks, before shaking his head like he’s trying to clear away fog. He leans back in his chair and stretches his long arms up with a thoughtful sigh, enough for his hoodie to ride up just slightly for you to catch a sliver of skin. You try (and fail) not to notice, muting your microphone briefly to let out a cough into your hand. 

“I mean, ‘perfect’ love is that type of stuff you read about in books or watch in movies, right?” He shrugs, letting his arms fall back down as his chair creaks softly beneath him. “Like no miscommunication, no timing issues, no one being stupid… which already disqualifies most of humanity, honestly.” 

You lean back in to unmute your microphone. “Are you saying you’re part of that disqualification?” 

“Absolutely, I’m the poster child for it,” he claims with that mischievous glint in his eyes. “I constantly forget shit, I’m nocturnal as hell, and sometimes I make objectively terrible decisions. Who would want to date me?” 

The question lands a little too easily, maybe even familiar, sending an uncomfortable ripple you feel all the way down to your toes. Something about the way it left his mouth without any hesitation sends a painful grip to your heartstrings. Jun has always had this kind of self-deprecating humour, tossing it out like it was nothing at times. It makes you want to one: shake reality into him, or two: kiss him to prove him wrong. 

You force out an awkward laugh, higher than it needs to be. 

“Someone with terrible taste, clearly,” You answer, keeping your voice teasing despite the heaviness in your chest. “But luckily for you, the world is full of people with terrible taste.”

Jun chuckles, spinning his chair so he could study you properly. 

“Yeah?” He tilts his head. “You think so?”

The chat is moving so fast now it’s basically a complete blur.

user: bro really asked who would date him while staring at his wife user: why is he so boyfriend coded still tho user: y/n should answer the question too!!! user: PERFECT LOVE IS WHEN YOU LOOK AT EACH OTHER STOPPP RNN

“Chat is right,” Jun quips. “What’s your answer to the question too, Y/N?”

The second the question leaves him, you can feel every pair of invisible eyes staring at you through the screen and your pulse kicking up loudly in your ears. Jun is still leaning back in his chair, relaxed as ever, his curious gaze fixed solely on you. 

Finally, you clear your throat.

“Well, I’ve seen couples break up because their relationship isn’t ‘perfect’,” You begin. “But the ones that last? They’re the ones where both sides are a little flawed, a little messy, and a little scared, but they choose each other anyway. That’s what you would call an imperfect love, and… I think that’s the most beautiful kind of love that can exist.” 

Suddenly, the tiny studio feels almost suffocating to sit in. Your eyes flick up to Jun. He isn’t laughing anymore, or even smiling. He’s just staring at you with an expression so open𑁋almost surprised, like he didn’t expect you to be so serious𑁋it steals the rest of your answer out of your throat. 

You refuse to look at the chat; you already know what they’re saying.

“You really thought about it a lot, huh?” Jun asks, scratching at the back of his neck. 

You could only manage a small, somewhat self-conscious nod, bringing your eyes down to the ground. “Yeah. Guess I have.” 

A wave of silence washes over the studio for a minute.

“...it’s a really good answer,” he murmurs.

A pleased smile crosses over your face. “Well, I am kinda a professional at this.”

“Mm,” he hums absentmindedly in response. 

You pretend to busy yourself with your laptop, trying to read over the chat that has now morphed into just meaningless spams of screaming text and heart emojis. Your cursor lingers over nothing, while your heartbeat is running a full blown marathon of panic. 

But when you glance back at Jun, the panic seems to strengthen even more.

“Cat anon, we really appreciate your trust in us,” You finish softly. “And I really hope that our advice tonight resonates with you. At the end of day, we’re all just a bunch of flawed humans looking for love, right? Don’t drive yourself to be perfect, because you’re already perfectly imperfect just as you are. And if your best friend reciprocates these feelings…”

Your eyes flit back up to Jun.

“...then take the leap, because they’re probably already waiting for you.” 

After a pause, you lightly kick Jun’s foot underneath the table. He jolts in his seat like you shocked him, before recovering with a nervous, boyish chuckle, sounding not even close to his usual, bright and effortless laugh. For once, he appears almost rattled, with his pupils wide and his ears pink that even the dim studio lights can hardly hide. 

On the wall, the ON LIVE sign flickers in and out of its glow. 

“She’s, um… Y/N is right, cat anon,” Jun agrees quietly. “You don’t have to become someone else to prove yourself worthy for someone. If they’re your person, then… who you are already is why they stayed this long.” 

From that, the chat practically combusts.

user: WEN JUNHUI???? IS THERE SOMETHING U WANNA SHARE W THE CLASS??? user: why did this suddenly get so intense lmao is it hot in here or is it just me? user: i’ve been on this ship since the beginning of the show!!!!

“Alright, that’s all the time we have for tonight,” You interrupt quickly, instinctively switching back to host mode. “Thank you to everyone who sent in your confessions tonight. Stay safe, stay honest, and please don’t respond to someone who sends you a babygirl text at ungodly hours.”

Jun reaches for the switch. “Goodnight, everyone!”

Click. The ON LIVE sign dies. 

Jun slides the headphones off his head and shuts down his laptop. You do the same. The two of you pack up belongings in that familiar and companionable silence that always spills into the room after a session. When you swing your bag over your shoulder, Jun glances up in your direction worriedly.

“You okay?” he asks. 

You nod, offering him a small, sleepy smile. “Take me home?”

Jun swallows down the lump in his throat.

“Yeah.” He’s already opening the door for you. “Always.”

Jun remembers one of the first discussions the two of you had on the show together.

Love at first sight. 

Back then, the studio was smaller, scrappier, and the chairs squeaked each time either of you moved even a centimetre. The world had fallen asleep long enough that honesty slipped through the cracks of your voices so easily. You both were running on nothing but instant noodles and caffeine, way different than the semi-functional adult routine you have established now. 

He remembers the beautiful laugh that left you when the question came in halfway through a song neither of you remembered choosing. 

He laughed with you too. Rolled his eyes and called it nonsense, all while pretending to not notice how your smile had gone a little soft when you answered it with that amused lilt to your voice. 

“I think it exists,” You had said. “Not like movie magic, though. But… you just meet someone and your brain clicks into place, you know? Like it says, ‘Oh. It’s you.’”

“That sounds like you’re trying to make shit up to justify bad decisions,” Jun argued back with a smirk. 

You gasped at that and slapped his wrist, causing him to laugh. “Excuse me? That was uncalled for.” 

And the segment moved on after that. 

But Jun continues to carry that sentence with him like a permanent scar. 

Oh. It’s you.

“What are the chances that a confession we’ve read out is from someone we know?” Jun asks while plopping a chip in his mouth, adjusting his body from where he had been sprawled across your couch for the past few hours. 

You don’t bother to spare a glance up from your laptop, but a grin crosses your features. “Pretty high, to be honest. Soonyoung once told me he submitted something to the show one time.” 

Jun nearly chokes on the chip scratching at his throat. “Soonyoung? As in Kwon Soonyoung? Never shuts up, Soonyoung?” He sits up so fast he accidentally knicks his socked foot under the coffee table. “Ow! I𑁋What the hell did he confess? Was it about that girl in his dance class that was drooling over him?”

You finally look over at him, chuckling at the way his eyes have grown comically wide. “He didn’t say. Just that he sent it under a funny username and almost died when we read it out. Apparently, we just straight up told him to stop being a coward and talk to her. They went on one date together. He found out she was allergic to cats and broke her heart by saying they were incompatible. End of story.”

Jun stares at you for a full blown three seconds, before he throws his head back into the couch with a laugh so genuine you would think his soul left his body completely. 

“That’s insane,” he says breathlessly. “Literally the most Soonyoung thing to do.”

“Actually, he’s not,” You chime back in. “I think he’s dating this new girl named… Skye, I think?”

“Sky?”

“Skye, but with an e at the end.” 

“Wow,” Jun mutters, crunching down on another chip and sarcastically adds, “Character development. We love to see it.” 

You roll your eyes, shutting down your laptop with a click and leaning back into the couch with Jun right next to you. You curl your knees up to your chest. “People change, Jun. Miracles happen.” 

Jun offers you the bag of chips. You take one, crunching absentmindedly as your gaze travels somewhere past the TV, past the wall, past everything. He notices. Of course he does. A nudge to your leg awakens you quickly. 

“Where’d you go just now?” he asks.

“Nowhere.”

Jun huffs. “Liar.”

You flick a crumb at him. “Shut up.”

“Make me,” he retorts with a lazy grin, sticking his tongue out.

You shoot a glare at him and snatch the bag of chips from his hand before he can react. A scandalised look splits his face as he lunges to grab it back from your grasp, but you manage to twist your body away and dodge his reach.

“Hey!” he exclaims, attempting to grab the back once more but you clutch it tightly to your chest. “Give that back to me!”

You yelp and scramble further into the arm of the couch, shoulders shaking with laughter as you hug the back tight enough to crush some of the chips inside. “You stole this from my pantry!”

When his fingers brush the corner of the bag, you only yank it away again. Jun narrows his eyes at you, lips twitching upwards like he’s trying not to laugh.

“Y/N.”

“No.”

“Y/N.”

“Junhui.”

“You’re being annoying on purpose.”

“And you love me for it,” You remark, sticking your tongue at him back mockingly.

That does it.

As he makes a dive for it again, you twist a little too far. The next thing you know, you’re collapsing back against the couch cushions with a soft oof, and Jun is falling down with you. Very much ungracefully.

Because one second he’s reaching, the next he finds himself tumbling down over you in a tangle of limbs and laughter, somehow managing to catch himself just beside your head before he can actually crush you into the couch. And he’s way too close.

His knee presses into the cushion in between your legs, while his hand is planted by the side of your head. His dark hair has fallen slightly into his eyes, and his breath comes out unevenly from the laughing.

Your own breathing isn’t exactly steady either. 

Jun looks down at you. You look back up at him. Your apartment suddenly feels fifty times smaller, and the laughter dies instantly, replaced by a familiar heaviness in the air whenever the two of you are alone together. His eyes drop down to your lips for a singular second before flicking back up to your face, and you catch the way his ears redden in slight guilt. 

You swallow down a lump in your throat. “Jun…”

And from that split second of vulnerability, he uses that opportunity to snatch the bag of chips right off your hands, catching you completely off-guard. The warmth in the air still lingers even as he pulls away from you and flops back down on the couch.

“Aha!” he exclaims triumphantly. “Victory is mine!”

You stare at him in disbelief before letting out the loudest, most offended noise imaginable as you smack his shoulder. 

“Wen Junhui!”

“Hm? Sorry, I can’t hear you over the savoury taste of victory,” he quips with a grin, face beaming with pride. 

“You’re such a little thief𑁋”

“You hesitated!” he argues smugly. “So that’s on you!”

“Because you were staring at me all weird!” 

That makes him shut up, the smugness fading off his face so abruptly as if you accidentally powered something in his system off. The apartment goes quiet enough for you to only hear the soft buzz of the refrigerator and the honk of a car outside. You didn’t mean to say it out loud. Or maybe you did, you don’t know. 

“I…” You utter weakly, trying to brush it away with a nervous chuckle. “Can we just pretend I spontaneously combusted instead?”

A soft, disbelieving laugh leaves him. “I’m sorry.”

“What?”

“For… looking at you all weird.”

“Jun𑁋”

“I think I’ll get going. It’s getting late,” he mutters, immediately standing up a little too fast. He grabs the bag of chips instinctively, realises it’s still in his hands, and sets it back down on your coffee table awkwardly. 

He doesn’t look at you as he grabs his hoodie and keys, moving with a surprising speed that even your own brain can barely process what to say. When he’s scrambling to the door, you move before you think, and you grab him by the wrist before he can unlock your door. 

Jun feels his pulse jump harder under your fingertips. Twisting himself back around, he’s met with your soft yet worried gaze, before flicking down to where your hand is still wrapped around his wrist. You release him immediately like you accidentally touched fire.

“Sorry,” You murmur, taking a small step back. “Just… text me when you get home, okay?” 

He nods solemnly. “Yeah. Of course.” A sheepish smile graces his lips for a moment. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Jun.”

You close the door with a quiet click that somehow is louder than it should be. Now, you’re all alone in your apartment, yet the warmth of his presence still lingers through every part of your place. He’s been in here a thousand times𑁋hell, you both have slept in the same bed together a plentiful amount during all the times he’s trespassed in your space𑁋but tonight it feels like there’s a literal dent in the air itself. 

The two of you have shared many awkward moments together. He’s accidentally walked in on you changing a few times; you’ve seen him stress-eat an entire family-sized bag of shrimp chips at four in the morning. You both have seen each other at some of your lowest points, but why, out of all nights, does it hit harder than anything else?

You sink back into the couch with a groan. Your phone burns a hole in your pocket. Ten minutes pass. Then fifteen. Then𑁋

Buzz.

[12:55am | menace (affectionate)] i just got home you okay?

You stare at his message for a long moment.

[12:57am | y/n] good and yeah, i’m fine. you?

[12:58am | menace (affectionate)] splendid! and … tired

[12:58am | y/n] go sleep then dumbass

[12:59am | menace (affectionate)] alright mother calm down i’m brushing my teeth

A low giggle leaves you at his response. A few minutes pass before a new text from him lights up your phone. 

[01:05am | menace (affectionate)] can i ask you something really random?

[01:05am | y/n] of course

The typing bubble appears, disappears, then reappears again.

[01:07am | menace (affectionate)] do you think cat anon is okay?

A sinking feeling opens a pit in your stomach, thumb frozen over your keyboard. You stare at the screen until the words begin to blur. God, of all the questions he had to ask tonight…

[01:10am | y/n] i don’t know i hope so and that they learn it’s okay to be brave

[01:12am | menace (affectionate)] yeah. me too

You’re hardly able to think when his next text comes in quicker than you expected.

[01:12am | menace (affectionate)] goodnight y/n don’t overthink in your sleep

You smile faintly.

[01:13am | y/n] no promises goodnight jun

You lock your phone after that with a tired sigh, tossing it onto the couch cushion besides you like it might bite you back if you hold it for too long. And somewhere on the other side of the city, another phone is tossed away like a shameful piece of evidence. 

As you stare blankly at your dark television and feel the exhaustion of the day weighing between your bones, you know that sleep won’t come easy tonight. It becomes even more challenging even after you brush your teeth, wash your face, doomscroll on your phone for a while, and face plant onto the bed like you just came home from a wounded battle. 

“Pathetic,” You mumble into your pillow to absolutely nobody. “I’m so pathetic.” 

On the other hand, Jun is… doing the exact same thing. 

His ceiling fan spins lazily overhead while his phone screen dims beside him. The last text message you sent to him spirals through the air around him. He doesn’t even know what to do but let out a muffled incredulous laugh into his pillow, sighs, before abruptly sitting up in bed and realising how much of a loser he’s acting right now. 

“I should’ve…” Jun groans, running a hand over his face. “I should’ve just told her… I’m such a coward.” 

Because the thing about running a late-night show where love is the main topic and advice is given, is that it’s painfully easy to tell strangers to be brave when your own heart isn’t on the line, when you’re not the aforementioned person in the story who is being pined over. It’s easy to take the leap when you aren’t standing at the edge yourself. Yet for some reason, it’s only harder to take the leap when you don’t even follow the advice you give to others. 

The irony is quite laughable, to be honest. 

Jun grabs his laptop and forces it open, the bright screen nearly blinding him in the darkness of his bedroom, but he doesn’t care. He finds himself navigating to his email, switching to his second account, and gets greeted by a particular message that had already been forwarded to the radio show. A message that had already been read, answered, and sent under a certain pseudonym.

Dear Y/N and Jun of Love On Air…

Biting down on his bottom lip, he opens up a fresh draft and begins typing. 

“Take the leap, cat anon,” he repeats to himself over and over again. “Take the leap, Wen Junhui.” 

Jun texted you two hours before the show that he was sick along with a selfie of him buried in a hoodie he threw on, somehow contracting a stomach bug which he blamed on some expired convenience store gimbap. He insisted that he could still come in, yet you reassured him with a string of sobbing emojis that it’s probably in his best interest to stay home to rest, and that you could handle hosting the show on your own, even if… you’ve never really done it before. 

The show must go on, after all. 

So when you find yourself sitting alone within the quiet studio just mere minutes from going live, you definitely sense both the physical and mental emptiness of his presence in the room a little too sharply. His headphones are still left the way he always leaves them, and his chair is facing the wrong wrong because he spins in it so much that he never bothers to put it back properly. 

A small, fond chuckle leaves you at the thought of him, and you have to chase those thoughts away the second the clock strikes midnight. From there, you roll your shoulders back to shake away any residual nerves, clear your throat, and reach over to the switch. 

Taking one last deep breath, you flip it on. The ON LIVE sign sparks to life on the wall.

“Good evening to all our fellow lonely and emotionally volatile listeners,” You greet warmly into the microphone. “Welcome back to everyone’s favourite unhinged radio show, Love On Air, live at midnight every Saturday on FM 98.7.” 

Your eyes can barely keep track of the live chat box being spammed with incoming messages. You read a couple of messages out of people describing their day, but it isn’t long until the elephant in the room is acknowledged.

You snort lightly. “I regret to inform you all that Jun has passed away due to… alleged food poisoning.” Some comments following your words make you laugh. “Yes, yes, you’re all invited to the funeral, don’t worry.”

user: i commence a ritual to bring him back or we riot 🙏🙏 user: bro probably slept through his alarm honestly user: WAIT BUT THIS FEELS SO WRONG W/O HIM 😭😭 user: rip… guess no husband and wife arguments for now… 😔

“He offered to join while sick, by the way,” You add in quickly. “But I personally vetoed it. I’m not letting a man who ate expired gimbap shit his way into a session. He’s probably listening in right now, so hi, Jun. Hope you’re still intact, buddy.” 

After a few minutes of more interactions, you finally pull up the radio show’s inbox and begin to organise through the confessions that were received recently. That weird feeling creeps back up your spine once again as you scroll𑁋not about the confessions specifically, just the thought about doing this alone. Your eyes flick to the empty chair right next to you once more. 

You read a few confessions and answer two callers𑁋there’s one from someone who felt bad for ghosting someone they actually liked, another person confesses they’re having a hard time with their partner wanting to open up their relationship, and one with expressing their fears of having their first time with the wrong person. You offer your own thoughtful answers and advice as best as you can, yet it feels so lackluster and flat without Jun’s playful interjections whenever you get too sappy on air. 

“Your first time should be with someone who makes you feel safe, not just wanted,” You say gently into the microphone. “You deserve that. Don’t settle for anything less. It’s okay to wait until that safety feels undeniable.”

The chat floods with hearts and supportive messages. A few people send their thank yous for the advice. Some latecomers ask questions about Jun’s whereabouts.You smile gratefully, but it feels a little fragile tonight, not quite reaching up to your eyes. 

As the final music break of the session ends, you unmute your microphone to speak.

“Alright, listeners, we’ve reached the final thirty minutes of tonight’s session. I want to thank you as always for staying up and listening into the show,” You announce confidently. “We’ve got time for… maybe a few more confessions and a possible lucky caller, so let’s see what we have left.”

Scrolling silently through the inbox, it isn’t long until your cursor hovers a familiar username once again. Your heart spikes at the sight, hesitating for a slow second.”

“Everyone, let’s welcome cat anon back to the stage with another follow-up confession.” You click the confession, take in a deep breath you’re sure the viewers can hear, and start to read it aloud.

Dear Y/N of Love On Air… Hi, it’s me again. To be honest, I don’t really know why I keep sending these, but somehow I always end up back here again. You truly have a way of words, and I really want to thank you for that. I thought about what you said about imperfect love. I used to think that if I fix every flaw about myself, then maybe I’ll be worthy of them, but now I know that love is someone seeing every fractured version of you, and staying anyway. There’s something else I want to confess too. I think I’ve been waiting so long for the “perfect” moment that I accidentally passed a thousand “imperfect” ones. It makes me terrified that they’ll meet someone more braver than me, so I’ll use this chance now to be brave for once.  I’ll be ready on the line for this session and use this chance to finally face whatever happens next. I hope you’re able to answer my call whenever that may be. I have an important message to send. 🐱

Your voice comes out almost too quiet by the end you finish reading. You flit a quick glance to the ever-exploding live chat box.

user: HOLY SHITTT CAT ANON VOICE REVEAL??? user: answer the call! answer the call! user: IM GONNA THROW UP WHY AM I SO NERVOUS user: we’re witnessing a cinematic moment in history wtff

Suddenly, the blink of the call line makes your throat tighten. Your fingers hover over the console as if it might suddenly jump out and bite you. God, you don’t understand why you’re unexpectedly so nervous𑁋you’ve talked to many callers, and yet, speaking with cat anon has you on complete edge. 

“Okay,” You stammer shakily into the microphone, covering up your nerves with a faint smile. “Let’s… let’s take this final call of the night, everyone.”

When you answer the line, it’s as if the world goes entirely mute, except for the intense pounding your chest. Nothing but static fills your headphones as the line struggles to connect for a few torturous moments.

Then, a quiet breath reverberates into your ears. The kind of breath that sounded like it had to claw its way out of someone’s chest. 

“...hello?”

The voice is slightly distorted through the line, unmistakably low𑁋clearly a male voice𑁋and trembling slightly around the edges. It’s more of a whisper, if anything. Perhaps he’s just as nervous as you. 

“Hi,” You greet warmly, slipping back into your professional radio voice. “You’re live on air with Love On Air. Is this… the one and only cat anon?” 

A small, embarrassed huff of air crosses the line. He sounds a bit closer this time as he replies, “...yeah, it’s me.” 

“Well, I’m giving you the floor now,” You assure firmly. “Whatever you need to say… we’re listening.”

Another shaky breath crackles through the line. You can practically touch the contemplation that’s buzzing through the call with your fingertips if that’s even possible, and even within the studio itself. 

When the seconds of silence turn into a full-blown minute of consideration, the line crackles once more.

“I’m in love with you, Y/N.”

Your heart stops. Your mind draws a complete and utter blank. The abrupt clarity of his voice cuts through any lingering distortion and static and hits you like a wave. The world itself feels as if it’s tilted on its axis. 

“Jun𑁋?”

“I love you,” he repeats more firmly this time, voice raw and full of everything he’s been holding back. “and I told you I was sick tonight because I couldn’t sit right next to you while you gave advice I was too scared to take. I just𑁋holy shit, I love you…”

Your mouth parts open in shock, then closes. The chat is going absolutely feral right now and you can barely read through all the comments without having this unusual urge to just slam your hand onto the console and pretend that you’re suffering from pure delirium. 

On the wall, the ON AIR still glows stubbornly. 

user: I FREAKING KNEW THAT CAT ANON WAS JUN user: may i find this kind of love one day what the helly 🙏 user: Y/N ARE YOU BREATHING RIGHT NOW ???? user: our stupid oblivious hosts are in love. I CALLED it

You feel as if you almost have to squeeze your voice just to get it out. “Jun…”

On the other hand, he inhales sharply.

“...yeah?”

“You’re such an idiot,” You sputter out. “Do you have any idea how… how insane this is? Confessing on our show… using a pseudonym I gave advice to𑁋”

“I know.”

“𑁋after lying about being sick𑁋”

“I know.”

“𑁋and letting me sit here and talk about love like you weren’t the one I was talking to the whole time?” You ramble on out of a sheer mix of pure disbelief and relief, tightening your grip on the microphone. “Like all the advice I said wasn’t about… us?” 

You hear some rapid shuffling on the other side, and you could almost imagine Jun sitting up in bed as if he’s received the most shocking news of his entire life. Then you hear his dazed laugh flowing into your ears.

“Yeah,” he admits quietly. “It was.”

Your breath catches embarrassingly hard and your face is completely on fire. The chat combusts once again, and you have to keep mentally reminding yourself that this entire interaction is live and half the city is probably listening in at this very second. 

“From the first moment I saw you back in college,” Jun continues softly. “My heart and brain did the thing, you know? That you said before𑁋where you meet someone and all you can think is: Oh, it’s you. The second I saw you, I just… I knew I wanted to keep seeing you.” 

You feel your eyes start to burn.

“I should’ve said it years ago, but I’m… I’m a coward. I know I am,” he mutters helplessly. “I know it’s stupid pretending to be cat anon because it was safer than telling my best friend I’m in love with her. Stupid that I… used to remind myself that I never deserved someone as bright as you. But anytime you told someone to suck it up and take the leap, I had to do it now or else I’d lose the chance and probably explode.”

He lets out a soft, breathless, disbelieving laugh of relief at the very end. Tears are streaming down your face at this point, but you don’t care. 

user: IM PASSING TISSUES DOES ANYONE ELSE NEED ONE??? user: jun confessing his undying devoted love to y/n life is worth living again!!!! user: i feel like a successful marriage counselor WTF user: the solomon paradox is REAL

“Gosh, you’re…” You wipe a tear from your eye, murmuring weakly, “Your timing really needs to be studied, Jun.” 

“Wait, wait, are you crying?” Jun asks worriedly in a fit of panic. “I didn’t mean to make you cry on air𑁋oh, my God, I can take it back, I can𑁋”

“You cannot ‘take this back’, you idiot!” You cut in immediately. “I’m crying because I’m in love with your stupid ass too! And if you don’t get here and finish the show with me, I’m absolutely going to lose the rest of my dignity.”

There’s a very long, suspicious beat of silence that passes. It’s enough to have you feel like you’re going through all the stages of grief in just a matter of seconds. And you swear on Jun’s life that if he doesn’t say something in the next minute, you might actually crash out and let the world witness your breakdown. 

But reality snaps back in when you hear the sound of him nearly tripping on the other end of the line. 

“I’m coming,” he reassures you. “I’m sprinting as fast as I can. Stay there for me, okay? Don’t finish the show without me.” 

The line goes dead.

The night is quietly young as you and Jun step back into your apartment, the door clicking shut behind to finally cut out the rest of the world.

You still can barely process what just happened. First, Jun had texted you that he was quite literally shitting bricks for the entire day (which was a lie, thank goodness), then you somehow managed to host an entire segment all on your own without losing your sanity, and now the man you’ve been secretly in love for years had confessed to you𑁋live on air, alongside an entire audience of fellow love drunk listeners𑁋and is currently standing directly in front of you, wearing a hoodie he probably put on right before sprinting to the studio and a pair of pyjama sweatpants.

Jun doesn’t waste a single second. He steps up close to you and carefully wraps his long arms around you, the comforting scent of him quickly filling all your senses. He lets his forehead rest against yours, the two of you shutting your eyes together as you simply bask in each other’s presence. 

“You’re real,” he murmurs, his hands trembling where they rest on your back. “I swear I thought I hallucinated the entire night. I need someone to pinch me if𑁋hey!”

You giggle at the way his face dramatically contorts with a pout, soothing his side with a gentle squeeze. You tilt your head enough to brush your nose against his. 

“Then kiss me like I’m real, you idiot.”

For a moment, he just blinks like you spoke complete gibberish. Then he cups your face and presses his lips to yours, sending immediate shivers that make your knees weak. You let out a soft sigh into his mouth as the kiss deepens ever so slightly, your hands slowly sliding up his chest. You feel him chuckle against your lips. 

As you kiss, you find yourself backing up in the direction of the couch. Jun follows without breaking contact with your mouth. When the backs of his knees hit the cushions, you both tumble down together in a clumsy, giggly heap with you on top of him, straddling him.

You brace your hands on his shoulders, and Jun’s arms lock around your waist instantly, holding you flush against him. And for a second, you both just… stare at each other. 

Jun is the first to break, his eyes flitting back and forth between your eyes and lips as he doesn’t know where to look. “What?”

You bite your lip to keep from smiling too wide at how ridiculously cute and disheveled he looks right now, tilting your head at him like you’re pretending to study him. You lean in a little just to tease, and instinctively, he puckers his lips together, chasing after yours when you pull back away. 

“I can’t believe how stupid we are,” You whisper, brushing his lips briefly in a feather-light peck. “Giving advice to everyone but ourselves. We wasted literal years.” 

Jun chases after your mouth again, capturing it properly this time and pulling away with a satisfied hum. “Mhm. Absolute morons.” His hands find their way under your shirt, tenderly mapping the bare skin of your waist. “But I’m done wasting time now.” 

You chuckle into the next kiss, the sound bubbling up uncontrollably as he tries to deepen it. God, his lips are so eagerly soft, but he’s smiling so hard you momentarily knock your teeth against his.

“Mm, wait,” You mumble against his mouth as you draw back to readjust your position, causing him to suck in a breath. “Are you trying to eat my face? Where’s the technique?”

He blinks up at you dazedly, mouth parted in playful offense. His hands tighten around your waist. “I𑁋excuse me?”

“Zero finesse. One star. I expected more from cat anon.”

Jun sits up suddenly so that you’re basically pressed chest-to-chest with each other. 

“You’re too cute, that’s the problem,” he says, voice deep yet still a little rough around the edges. “How am I supposed to kiss you if I short-circuit and all I could think, holy shit, she’s mine?” 

Your heart does a stupid little flip from his words. “Flattery won’t save your shitty technique.”

“Oh, yeah?” He cups your face with both hands, thumbs caressing your cheeks. “Watch this.” 

The next kiss is messier𑁋heated, giggly, and clumsy because you both can’t stop smiling. You feel your toes curl as he nips lightly at your bottom lip. You sigh into it, threading your hands through his hair, the heat of it enough to make you rock your hips against his growing hardness. 

You feel the heat dancing up your skin and pooling into your belly as you continue your lazy grinding against him, swallowing down the broken sigh and groans that fall out of his mouth. When his mouth begins its descent down your jaw and to a particular sensitive spot behind your ear, he smirks against your warm skin. 

“Fuck𑁋you like that?” he breathes out, his fingertips brushing the underside of your breast underneath your shirt. 

A shaky laugh leaves you, but it melts quickly into a soft moan when his thumb brushes your already-hardened nipple. “Don’t get cocky. Still𑁋mmh𑁋mediocre at best.”

Jun lifts his brow, mouth curved into a stupidly fond grin. “Mediocrity, huh?” He pinches your nipple gently, causing you to jerk your hips into his. “Your body is saying something different, baby.”

“Ignore her. She’s… a traitor,” You croak out, grinding against the hard line of his cock through his sweatpants. 

Jun merely chuckles, tugging your shirt up enough to expose your chest. He unclips your bra without any hesitation, pushing the straps off your shoulders then letting it fall uselessly to the floor. His eyes widen as he takes a few seconds to drink you in completely.

“God, you’re so beautiful…” 

Then his mouth is back on you. He sucks one nipple between his lips while his hand affectionately palms the other. A crude moan slips out of you this time; it heightens his confidence even more. 

As his mouth lavishes attention to your other breast, he drags his hand down your side, teasingly sliding under the waistband of your pants to cup you over your pants. He can feel how warm you are already. 

“Rating?” he requests with a firm suck. 

“Like a solid𑁋shit𑁋two-point-five out of five…”

Jun pulls off your breast with a wet pop, grin turning wicked. “But you’re soaked, and you’re still calling me below average? I think your pussy disagrees.”

You open your mouth to retort, but then he slides his hand into your panties, fingers circling over your slick folds, and nothing but a breathy gasp escapes you. Your hips roll down to meet his hand as he inserts a finger inside of you, curling into that spot that makes your back arch and he has to use his other hand to hold you in place. 

“What’s the rating now?” he asks, watching the way your face is beautifully twisting with pleasure as a second finger slides inside. 

You shoot him a death glare as you clench around his hand. “Three𑁋fuck, right there𑁋three-point-eight𑁋”

“Getting better already,” he hums in approval, leaning back down to worship your breasts once more. The dual sensation has your head falling down into the crook of his neck, your moans caressing his skin.

“Four𑁋Jun, you asshole𑁋four-point-five𑁋”

He pulls his fingers out of you unexpectedly, making you whine at the loss. Before you can complain, you find yourself being flipped on the couch as he settles in between your thighs, looking up at you with that mischievous, hungry, adoring look. He gives another tug to the waistband of your pants.

“Final rating before I eat you out?” 

Your chest heaves, though you try to keep your tone light and teasing. “Four-point-seven. Don’t get lazy down there or I’m docking points, smartass.”

Jun’s eyes sparkle with challenge as he helps you out of the rest of your clothes. When you’re fully bare in front of him, he spreads your thighs even further, letting his mouth hover tantalisingly where you need him most.

“Four-point-seven,” he repeats to himself, pressing a trail of kisses to your inner thigh. “I can work with that. Watch me get that perfect five.” 

Then he leans in and drags his tongue up your soaked pussy in one long stripe, a groan leaving him as he tastes you for the first time. Your hips jolt against his face, a sharp moan tumbling out of you and bouncing off the walls of your quiet apartment.

“Oh𑁋Jun𑁋”

“Hmm?” He circles your clit with the tip of his tongue before sucking it gently into his mouth, eyes flicking up to watch your face. Two fingers slide back inside of you, curling into that spot that makes your vision glassy. “God, you taste even better than I imagined…”

You slap a hand over your mouth as the pleasure starts to bloom its way out of you, but he reaches up and pulls it away, lacing your fingers together.

“Don’t do that, please,” he murmurs against your pussy. “Let me hear you, baby…”

The way he eats you out has your head spinning. It’s dizzying, a little messy, and entirely devoted to you. The wet sounds of his mouth and fingers echo and your moans and gasps travel throughout the room, only making him double down even harder to bring you over the edge.

“Five𑁋five stars𑁋ah, please𑁋”

You cum with a cry of his name, the pleasure crashing into you in waves. He continues to lazily lap at you before you start trying to push his head away, the two of you giggling breathlessly in the aftermath.

When he pulls away, his lips are shiny and he looks foolishly pleased with himself. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and crawls his way back up your body, meeting you for a deep kiss. You taste yourself on his tongue, and the thought that this absolute klutz of a man just gave you the best orgasm of your life sends another shaky giggle rolling out of you. 

“You okay?” he breathes against your mouth, chuckling softly of you barely controlling your laughter. “I… what the hell just happened?”

“That was me letting go after holding back for years,” he answers without diffidence, tracing soothing circles over your bare thigh. “Do I get a final rating now?”

“Hmm, solid five-point-five. An extra half point for your enthusiasm and those cute noises you made down there.” You run your fingers through his messy hair, making him lean into your touch like a baby kitten. “But I’ll let you try for a six if you fuck me right now.”

Jun’s eyes darken instantly. “Say less.”

The two of you battle over taking off the rest of his clothes. Jun attempts to smoothly yank his hoodie off in one go, but it gets snug on something, causing him to laugh when it gets caught on his shoulders.

“Oh, my God𑁋stay still so I can take it off, you dummy!” You exclaim in frustration. 

“Help me then, smartass!” His laughter is muffled into the fabric. 

When you finally unsnag the hoodie and toss it somewhere on the floor, you both immediately reach for his pants at the same time, elbows bumping into each other. Rolling your eyes, you lightly smack his hand away so you can push it down his hips with borderline desperation. He kicks it off the rest of the way, his boxers following quickly.

The second he’s fully bare in front of you for the first time, he cages you into the couch right above you, littering soft kisses over your flushed cheeks. His cock rests heavily against your stomach as he stares down at you, chest rising and falling heavily.

“Hi,” he whispers stupidly, like he’s just remembered how to speak.

“Hi,” You reply with a bashful smile, reaching up to cradle his face, pinching his cheeks together. “Still waiting for my six-star performance.”

“Give me a break, I’m nervous!” he gasps defensively, grinding the underside of his dick along your slickness unconsciously. “I’ve only pictured this every single night for, like, the past four years!”

“Poor baby,” You coo impishly, reaching down to stroke him softly. “You’ve been jerking off to the thought of me for four years?”

Jun whines needily, burying his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply. “Stop bullying me when I’m trying hard not to embarrass myself right now.”

“Then embarrass yourself. I’ve waited just as long, you idiot,” You urge, bringing him closer until there’s physically no more space between your bodies. 

With a sly smirk, he reaches down, lines himself up with you, and slowly pushes inside. He groans lowly as he sinks inside you until his hips are pressed against yours. For a second, he doesn’t move at all, only trembling with his forehead leaning onto yours. 

“Oh fuck𑁋I think I died a little,” he grunts pitifully into your neck. “You’re so warm. And tight. Think I-I short-circuited again.”

You give his shoulder a tight squeeze. “Move, Jun. Please.”

He obeys right away, thrusting into you experimentally and drawing a collective moan out from both of you. When he snaps himself into you again, again, and again, he sets a slow, deep rhythm that has the couch creaking softly beneath you.

“Shit, Jun𑁋” Your nails rake down his back as he hits that spot perfectly inside you again and again, wrapping your legs around his waist. “You… You feel so good.” 

“Yeah? You look so pretty falling apart on my cock, baby,” he praises heavily, voice sounding absolutely wrecked. “Still rating me? Am I passing?”

Your laugh dissolves into a moan when a particular thrust punches the air out of your lungs. 

“You’re at…” You bite down harshly on your bottom lip, glancing down to where you’re joined together. “Five-point… seven𑁋shit, keep going like that, I’m so close…”

“I’m so close too, not gonna last,” he pants, his breath molten on your neck. “God, I love you, I love you, I love you…”

You grab him by the nape of his neck to collapse his mouth back onto yours, swallowing all his desperate little grunts and sighs as the kiss turns heated fast. His rhythm stutters for the briefest second before he regains himself swiftly, the wet slap of your bodies meeting over and over again flooding the room, with your own hips rolling to meet with each of his thrusts. 

The heat of it all invades through all your nerves, that familiar coil tightening in your belly. The rating game is completely out of the window now. There’s only nothing but the drag of his cock kissing your walls and this thumb dipping in between your legs to caress your clit, encouraging you to let go.

When your orgasm finally crashes, it’s much more intense than the last. Your nails imprint sharp crescents down his back as one final broken cry rips out from your throat, stars bursting behind your ears. Your walls squeeze around him so tightly he curses, the drive of his hips faltering sloppily. 

“Baby, I can’t𑁋I’m gonna𑁋where𑁋?” 

“Inside,” You beg gravelly, wrapping your arms around him even tighter. “Lose yourself in me, Jun, please.”

That’s all it takes for his own orgasm to hit him. With one final thrust, he spills inside of you with a deep, guttural groan. His face drops into the crook of your sweaty neck as shaky little whimpers continue to leave him𑁋your name, I love you, fuck I love you𑁋repeatedly until he’s completely spent and melted into your arms. 

For a few moments of stillness, the only sounds travelling throughout the room is your ragged breathing and the sudden hum of your refrigerator. Eventually, Jun lifts his head from where it’s been resting comfortably on your chest. His dark hair is sticking out in all sorts of places, a few strands even matted to his forehead. And his eyes are half-lidded, yet so soft and full of love that you almost want to sob.

“So…” he starts hoarsely, kissing the tip of your nose. “Final rating?”

You let out a tired, contented laugh, brushing damp strands of his hair off his face.

“Mmmh… six-point-five,” You decide sleepily, pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth. 

A bright, boyish grin unleashes across his face. “I’ll take it. Room for improvement for the next round.”

“I𑁋next round?!”

“I aim to achieve ten stars. Or maybe more than that.”

“God, you’re so insatiable,” You groan, shaking your head despite the smile breaking through your expression. “Later on, maybe… for now, I just want to hold you.”

Jun swears he feels himself literally melt into a puddle at that, because how could he ever deny a request like that from you? Despite the little space on your creaky couch, he pulls out of you with a wince, grabs the throw blanket that has unknowingly dropped to the floor before shifting himself more deeper into your arms. The soft fabric wraps around your bare bodies together in a warm, messy nest, one of his legs slotting in between your legs. 

“Better?” he mumbles hopefully, letting his eyes fall to a close so he could listen to your heartbeat.

“Mhm. Much,” You hum in response, nosing through his hair. “I love you, you menace.”

You feel his lips meet the soft skin above your breast, right over your heartbeat.

“I love you too, dummy.”

Remember that stray cat that landed on your doorstep at the very beginning and refused to leave?

Yeah, he’s right where he wants to be now.

perm taglist (open) ʚɞ

@sn4psh00t @slytherinshua @seungkw1 @etherealyoungk @bananabubble

@parakissss @eskoupe @gent1es3xy @cherryophile @jaja-salute

The temple was finally quiet.

For once.

No missions.

No meetings.

No training.

Just you and Aang alone in your room late at night while the rest of the Gaang settled down for sleep somewhere else in the temple. The windows were cracked slightly open, cool mountain air drifting through the room while candlelight flickered softly against the walls.

You were curled against Aang’s side underneath the blankets, practically melted into him at this point. Not that he minded.

Aang loved being close to you.

Actually, loved was probably an understatement.

At the moment, he was laying back against the pillows shirtless, one arm around your waist while the other lazily traced shapes against your skin absentmindedly.

You were half laying on top of him, wearing one of his loose wraps that kept slipping off your shoulder every few minutes and nothing else underneath-

Aang was definitely struggling to focus because of it. You noticed every single time his eyes drifted.

“You’re staring again,” you teased softly.

His ears turned pink immediately.

“I can’t help it.”

You laughed quietly before leaning up and kissing him again. That ended any chance of coherent thought immediately.

Aang kissed you back fast, one hand sliding up your back as he pulled you closer against him instinctively.

Warm.

Soft.

Comfortable.

The kind of kissing that had no real goal other than enjoying each other. At least at first. Because after a while, it deepened naturally.

Aang’s kisses got slower, heavier, his hand tightening slightly at your hips every time you shifted against him.

And honestly?

You weren’t helping.

Especially not when your fingers slid over his body gently. A quiet sound escaped him immediately. You smiled against his lips. “That got your attention.”

“You always have my attention,” he murmured.

You kissed him again before he could keep talking because comments like that made your heart melt every single time. Aang responded instantly. He slowly moved his hand to the hem of the wrap. Slowly removing it. One hand moving up your ass, carefully while he kissed you deeper now, completely relaxed beneath you.

The blanket that was around you both had slipped lower somewhere along the way, exposing more of your naked body, but neither of you cared.

At least-

Until the door suddenly swung open.

“Aang, I need to ask you someth- ”

Silence.

Horrible.

Awful silence.

You froze instantly.

Aang’s eyes widened in absolute horror. Sokka stood in the doorway staring directly at the two of you.

At Aang shirtless.

At you half laying on top of him.

At the very obvious makeout session he had just interrupted.

“…OH COME ON!” Sokka yelled immediately.

Aang reacted on pure instinct. He grabbed the blanket so fast it was honestly impressive, yanking it up around you protectively until you were completely covered.

“SO KNOCK!” Aang shouted back immediately.

“I DIDN’T KNOW YOU WERE DOING THIS!”

“Well maybe you should’ve!”

You buried your burning face into Aang’s shoulder instantly while Sokka pointed accusingly.

“WHY ARE YOU BOTH ALWAYS LIKE THIS WHEN I WALK IN?!”

“GET OUT!”

“I LIVE HERE TOO!”

“NOT IN THIS ROOM YOU DON’T!”

You could physically feel Aang’s embarrassment radiating off him.

His face was bright red.

Ears glowing. One arm wrapped tightly around you while he kept the blanket firmly pulled up around your body protectively.

Which honestly made your heart flutter a little despite the embarrassment. Sokka looked personally victimized.

“I can never unsee this.”

“THEN LEAVE!” Aang snapped.

“You guys are unbelievable!”

“You opened the door without knocking!”

“Because I didn’t think I was interrupting this!”

Aang groaned loudly, dropping his forehead dramatically onto your shoulder for a second. “You’re the worst.”

“You’re making out in the middle of the night!”

“It’s OUR room!”

Sokka pointed dramatically.

“I have trauma now.”

“You’ll survive!”

At this point you were laughing too hard into Aang’s shoulder to even help.

Which made Aang look at you in betrayal. “This isn’t funny.”

“It kind of is,” you admitted through laughter.

Aang groaned again while Sokka kept rambling dramatically.

“I’m serious, from now on there should be a warning sign on this door.”

“GET OUT!”

Finally, mercifully, Katara appeared behind Sokka.

“What are you yelling abou- ”

She stopped instantly after seeing the scene. Aang looked ready to evaporate on the spot. Katara sighed immediately. “Sokka, seriously?”

“I’M the problem?!” he cried.

“Yes! Knock before entering people’s rooms!”

“I DIDN’T THINK THEY’D BE HALF NAKED!”

Aang immediately pulled the blanket higher around you protectively again.

“Stop looking at her!”

“I’m trying NOT to!”

Katara physically grabbed Sokka by the arm. “Okay. We’re leaving now.”

“I can still see him shirtless!”

“Sokka.”

“I’m traumatized!”

The door finally shut behind them.

Silence.

Then

Aang dropped his face into his hands.

“Oh my god.”

You immediately started laughing again. Aang looked at you, still completely red. “This is your fault too.”

“How?”

“You distract me!”

“That is not a real excuse.”

“It is to me.”

You smiled softly despite yourself. Even flustered out of his mind, he still had one arm securely around you underneath the blankets. Still holding you close. Still protecting you first before even processing his own embarrassment.

Your expression softened immediately. “You covered me up,” you murmured quietly.

Aang blinked.

Then his face softened too.

“Of course I did.”

The sincerity in his voice made your chest warm. Even during absolute chaos

He thought about you first.

You leaned up, kissing his cheek softly this time. Aang immediately melted again despite everything.

“You’re cute,” you whispered.

“I’m humiliated.”

“You’re still cute.”

He huffed softly, trying not to smile.

Then after a second

“…Do you think Sokka’s gone?”

You listened for a moment.

“…Probably.”

Aang narrowed his eyes suspiciously toward the door.

“I don’t trust him.”

That only made you laugh harder while he pulled you closer again, still stubbornly keeping the blanket wrapped around you both.

♡♡♡

You were aware of how much Aang liked seeing you wearing his clothes. At every opportunity, he would put you in them.

Draping his cloak around your shoulders when it was cold outside, it pooling on the floor because he was that much taller than you?

Or when he would lay it over you as a make-shift blanket in your sleep and you were visibly comforted by his scent and warmth?

Sometimes, in the mornings, you would wear a tunic of his when you couldn’t find your own clothes, and that tunic that was perfectly fitted to him came down to your knees?

You never thought you’d experience such a thing. As a big girl you’d lost hope on finding a man who’s clothes you could wear and wouldn’t fill.

Fortunately, your boyfriend was a big man himself – tall and muscular.

Unfortunately, being the Avatar, Aang travelled a lot, and you often stayed on Air Temple Island. And you missed him every time.

As night fell, you retired to your room, leaving the balcony door open as you always did when Aang was away.

Technically, he was home, he returned this morning. Usually when he returned from a trip, he would come to you immediately – however this time, he didn’t. He had gone straight to a council meeting at Town Hall and been there all day.

You had decided to show him just what he had been missing and sat waiting for him on your bed – draped in one of his robes. It showed off a lot of your body and the colours contrasted you deliciously in the low lighting too, adding to the seduction.

It was late when he landed on the balcony, you almost didn’t hear him for his light-footedness.

He collapsed his glider and walked into the room. Despite his confident stride, he was quiet for he expected you to be fast asleep at this hour.

Instead he was greeted by you, sat on the bed, wearing his clothes, hair messy from a long day, flushed from the candles warming the room. There was also tiredness on your face, which somehow only made you hotter.

When you heard him, you lifted your head up – hair falling around your shoulders, framing your face, shadowing it.

Sure as you were of it – you hear the sharp intake of breath. Aang set his glider down against the wall and walked further into the room.

He came round the side of the bed and kneeled down, reaching out to you, but you ignored him.

“Baby–” he cleared his throat, it was tight with the effects of the arousal coursing through his entire body. Specifically to his hardening cock. It was so immediate that Aang felt light headed. “Baby, please.”

Surprised by what you were hearing, you let your stoic expression slip – only for a second – and it was not missed by Aang. It was the crack in your porcelain and all the allowance he needed to make his move.

You heard the rustle of fabric on fabric as he moved to sit behind you on the bed. His head rested in the juncture of your shoulder blades, breathing you in. A hand laid open on your bare shoulder, the other on your clothed hip.

“I’m sorry about the meeting. They summoned me, said it was urgent. I’m sorry it took so long. But that– that doesn’t matter. You’re all that matters. Baby please.”

He was practically whining, begging for you… for your words, your touch.

Aang kissed up your back, trailing tender and burning marks into your skin where he would stop to suck. When he reached your neck, he looked in your eyes, his own glazed with tears, conveying the sheer want he had for you.

The breath was stolen from your lungs at his words. The effect you were having on him – effected you. You could feel the wetness pooling between your thighs.

“Aang,” your voice was breathy, “I missed you.”

Your head collapses back onto his shoulder, you could never have denied him for long.

Aang moved you to face him and you held his face in your hands as you kissed each other all over your faces, anywhere you could reach through laughter and tears.

You sniffed back a sob – being apart for so long, you were sure you would die if you couldn’t touch him.

Aang took you in his strong arms, you felt the muscle under his tattooed skin flex though there was no struggle for him. An exhilarating feeling – amplifying the arousal in your loins.

He laid you out on the bed, had you splayed underneath him.

“You look so good in my clothes, but you have to take them off now,” he laughed. You were both giggly and teary. Aang was already pawing at your skin as you joined him in removing your– his clothes.

As each piece was taken off, Aang laved your body with indulgent kisses – worshipping you.

“Weeks without you baby. Do you know what you do to me?” he was near moaning against your skin now. You could feel his hard cock pressing into your leg, heat pouring through layers of clothing.

Travelling up your body, his hot breath blew coldly on the wetness that was sticky on your thighs. Noticing your body’s reaction, he smirked, “you want me so bad, don’t you baby,” his voice was heady with arousal. “You need me?”

You nodded frantically, euphoric tears pooled in your eyes, threatening to spill.

“Please!” you begged, your breathing heavy, eyes fluttering shut as you took the brunt of a physical pang of arousal.

Aang leaned down down, eyes on yours, and pressed a kiss to your clit. When he pulled away, his lips were glistening with your wetness. He licked his lips and moaned.

You felt his arms wrap around your thighs, pulling you closer to him and he dove back in.

He flattened his soft tongue and licked a thick stripe along your cunt, briefly dipping into your hole, collecting your arousal before swirling his tongue around your clit again.

Your hips bucked against his face. He moved his hands to rest on your hips, pushing you firmly down into the bed, keeping you still against him, and you felt his lips against yours as he smirked at your desperate attempt to stimulate yourself on him.

His nose pressed against your clit as he focussed on your hole. Aang’s eyes flutter shut briefly as he breathed your scent in, finding a little relief by rutting his hips against the bed.

Aang released his grip on one of your legs as he brought his fingers to your hole, dipping them in slowly as his tongue moved back to drawing circles on your clit.

As he began to thrust his fingers in and out at a steadier pace, he formed a suction around your swollen clit and sucked at it gently.

You felt the familiar tightness in your stomach as you neared orgasm. Your increased squirming and higher pitches whines and moans signalled to Aang the same.

“Aang!” you gasp, “fuck– ahh.”

Brought to the very precipice of your orgasm, your fingers curled into the sheets by your head. Your back arched as you let out another slurry of moans.

You grip your boyfriend’s smooth head harder, muscles flexing, pushing his face further into your cunt – you were rewarded with a moan that vibrated through your sensitive flesh.

Your orgasm careened through you. White hot pleasure coursed through your veins, your entire body tensed up upon release.

But Aang didn’t stop, he scissored and thrust his fingers in an unrelenting pace and continued his suction on your clit, maximising the effects of your orgasm for his own satisfaction.

When your body finished spasming, he removed his fingers – wasting no time licking up the cum dripping from your hole.

“You did so well, my love,” Aang whispered against your flesh, stroking the velvety skin of your thigh. He pressed a final kiss to your clit, which resulted in an overstimulated twitch of your hips.

Sinking his face into your stomach, you felt the tickle of his soft lips on your skin – eliciting a giggle from you as you came back to full consciousness.

He nipped and pinched your breasts too, heavy in his palm before finally reaching your lips.

He held you face in his hand, gazing deep into your eyes, communicating something deeper than words could describe. He leant down and kissed you.

In leu of your mind-boggling orgasm, your arousal had not lessened. In fact you still craved to have his cock inside you. You whined against his lips, hands weakly attempting to pull at the sleeves of his tunic.

“You want my cock, do you baby?”

“Aang!” Your tone of voice giving away you were still high off of your orgasm.

“I’ll give it to you baby, hold on.” He could barely contain himself anymore – too long without you. Far too long indeed, he felt close to erupting even without your touch, your words being enough.

Your begs were unheard, drowned out by your breathy whining.

You barely noticed as Aang shucked off his clothes, leaving them piled somewhere on your bed where the others had been thrown earlier. Then before you was the pale, marble expanse of his torso, muscles flexing above you.

You reached your hand out to caress and scratch his abs, embracing the surprised flicker of his skin.

Your hand lowered, grasping his blushed-red cock firmly, you start to stroke him, enjoying hearing the subtle noises escaping your boyfriend’s mouth. He took ahold of your hand, pulling you away. “You’re gonna make me cum baby.”

He took himself in his hand and guiding his cock towards you, notching at your entrance. He kissed you as he entered you, sweet and gentle.

“You’re doing so good love. So, so good,” he whispered.

You moaned into his mouth and he swallowed it. One of his hands massaged your thigh, gripping your ass cheek in an open hand, his fingers dug into you deliciously.

The other fondled your breast. Spirits, he was obsessed with them. He imagined how they would fill with milk when you were full with child.

Aang thrust harder, working to fulfil this fantasy, grunting in his effort. His cock reached deep within you, caressing that spot that just felt oh so good inside you.

Your nails rake bloody ribbons up his back as you cry out, but he doesn’t care for the pain.

“You already look so good in my colours, imagine when you’re round with my child. Can you imagine that baby? Oh yeah, yeah– ughn.” Aang groans in your ear.

“Take my cock my love, take it, gonna fill you up with my babies.” His hand is cradling your jaw, you nod into it, craving the intimacy of his touch.

Your thighs tense, you attempted to chase your approaching orgasm, shifting restlessly below Aang, settled by a shushing and promise he would let you come and then you could rest.

“Mmh–!” you hummed behind your lips, hands flailing by your side, unable to grip anything, your muscles having turned to jelly, Aang moves his hand from your face, joining it with yours above your head.

You come at the same time, bodies convulsing and pressing together until there was no space between you.

You cry out loudly into the suffocatingly humid air with no worry of who could hear you beyond your room. Aang’s face falls into you neck and you feel the wetness of tears on your skin, just as you feel the force of his cum shooting into you.

“Aang!” You repeat his name over and over until your words fade from a shout to a whisper, barely clinging to consciousness.

You lie on the sheets, soiled by sweat and cum, tucked into Aang’s side as you recover. You run your fingers over his abs, a memory from earlier. You smile up at him. “So? You want babies?”

Aang halts stroking your back and blushes, looking down at you through his eyelashes and asks, “do you?”