#(It started out as a kiss how did it end up like this)

[capslocked]

PRAXIS

male reader x irene

23k words

"A girl could walk in and mistake this for an affair," you remark, and Irene smiles up at that.

The sound of city traffic underneath your open window makes for an uncertain backdrop - though the browns of her eyes glimmer caramel in the dying light. Something sweet, the beginnings of an addiction if you’ll let her.

"A girl could walk in," Irene says, "but, she never does."

It was not a good idea, of course, to keep doing this where the whole world could see, where your shadows and silhouettes make lurid shapes against the blinds, but your office is small and the lighting is soft and Irene keeps pushing up onto her tiptoes, pressing you flat against your desk, trying to kiss you, and you won't be able to stop her - or want to, not when she's already leaning into you with her arms loose around your hips, her eyelashes heavy, her mouth a pink line of want against her smile.

It’s inevitable, maybe.

Here's what they might catch in the exact moment, in a not-so-distant memory:

Your heartbeat, quiet and slow and distant, like there's too much blood for it in your veins, your skin electric-pulsing underneath Irene's, the feel of her leg hitched up your waist, your hand wound tightly in her ponytail. The tiny sigh of a smile at the corner of Irene's lips, like you're tickling her somehow - you'll stop if she really wants you to, but - she doesn't. She never does.

Why wouldn't we want to be mistaken for something? is what you’re supposed to hear; she's too haughty, too proud. Someone could catch you. She’ll never come out and admit, just what would anyone do, if they did?

So yeah. It’s complicated.

You give a little, Irene pulls back. You do your damndest not to push. You hate how goddamn easy it is to convince yourself of anything, everything - whatever the lie. Irene isn’t ignoring you. She doesn't ignore the texts you send her. You don’t need to make plans more than two hours in advance. Mixed signals are such a misunderstood phenomenon: she can just be shy, sometimes. Maybe she doesn’t want to intrude. She was nervous, but she felt really fucking good on top of you - maybe next time, the guilt will be a bit less for both of you.

It’s just sex, she says once to you after; there’s no strings attached. How could it get ever more perfect than that?

-

(And she’s right. You know she’s right, or you at least you very well should.

See, you’ve been talking for hours about how you shouldn’t be talking for hours on end. Kissing her after a conversation you’d had around the fact you’d both be better off as friends.

So how's that gonna sound, anyway? Here, go on, try saying it:

Bae Irene? Yeah, met her on the subway - that's the story, the reason you know her; you got on a train one day and she was the prettiest person there. You were both headed to the same place. You’re just not sure when that's gonna change.

And well, the way you see it: you’d feel so much lighter, like a feather, with her off your mind.)

-

To be candid, you can't really pin down how any of this started. The logistical details, sure. However the suggestion, the sex, the seclusion - these things, not so much.

Somedays, if you squint, it plays out rather predictably. You’ll be going about your business, a particularly average day everything considered, or - well, mostly. Today, there are just the two minor caveats:

First off, your key grinds in the lock when you jam it in. That part is pretty normal, but to your surprise, the door is already very much open.

So, that's odd, you think. That's very odd. You slide inside, cautious, and as you call out an even more cautious "hello?" you realize all the lights are on - so either you've been robbed or are currently in the state of being robbed by someone with suboptimal visual acuity. A disability-washed-burglar. Not to minimize crime, of course, but that'd be interesting, you think, or representative perhaps? Maybe.

Alternatively,

Irene's let herself into your apartment again. It’s quite plausible.

She's not great at the whole 'asking permission' thing, though she swears every time it'll never happen again. You peek around your foyer: there’s her coat, her heels, her shirt, a handbag - all strewn about the hall like she’d been raptured and left a delicate trail of destruction, which does sound a lot like the Bae Irene you've known forever.

(Okay, six, seven months isn’t forever - but you get the gist; the general principle still applies.)

Now another, horrifying option is that both theories are true, simultaneously. A home invader has in fact gotten to Irene. In the middle of robbing the place. How terrible, how awful, how genuinely macabre, what a genuinely-

"Yeah, hey," you hear, followed by a heavy, sloshing thunk. "Welcome home or something."

Sure enough, as you enter the kitchen you spy your truly awful vision being confirmed. One of them, anyway. There is your incredibly hot (this is in reference to Irene), extremely fashionable (same boat as before, honestly), dangerously intelligent (yes) and notorious rulebreaker of an (it really bears emphasis on how hot and fashionable and stylish said rulebreaking often is) acquaintance as per her standard. Irene. A roguish and impossibly captivating conglomerate of trouble with a mild attitude and perfect posture; as a collection, she's a collection you want, a package you intend to keep, an accessory you'd die for. That, and a kettle on the stove apparently, so she can make you tea while you languish on the floor, and you could live like that forever, or so the dream goes.

Also right, the second caveat: there's the robbery. She's stolen a button-up out of your closet.

And look - she's actually so much prettier than she has any business being. Hair up in a messy bun, lips painted light. Nail polish starting to fade. She's still in her nylons and a tight little pencil skirt and you can't really complain. You'd need to be legally dead.

"Hi," Irene says, and the burner sputters to life. "Where'd you go?"

"The bank. And then I had to return books," you say, shucking off your jacket. "You know, I wasn't aware anyone else was living here."

"Excuse you," Irene replies. She turns, leans her forearms on the counter; the shirt buttons are misaligned, but she makes it look like a stylistic consideration - how the sleeves are pushed past her elbows and the neckline has already slipped down one of her dainty shoulders.

She has your clothes. She has an irritatingly winsome half-smirk. The clock above the stove says it’s barely even 9 PM.

"Do you get your mail forwarded here, too?" You shuck off your jacket. "To further clarify, why not call first? Maybe text? Hell, smoke signals could do."

"Because it's a hell of a lot easier to ask you for forgiveness," Irene tells you, knowing, "asking for permission gets me nowhere," and then grabs a mug from the cupboards. She seems to know where everything is already. "I don't know why you get so bothered about it, honestly, what should I do? Call you and say, wow, babe, I am planning on letting myself into your apartment, sorry, yeah, I was thinking we could - ah fuck - you know what, I am irreparably, incomprehensibly horny."

"Nice vocab."

"Thanks," Irene says, beaming, and even tips up her chin to show it.

You notice that you actually match right now, since it is, technically, your shirt. Sure, your collar’s a little stiff - and she’s barely able to keep the fabric from folding and spilling over her lithe frame, but that hardly matters. It's so ungodly hot. She could wear anything - or, probably, nothing, if you're being honest.

And you are, mostly.

So you pad into the space right behind her to tell her some truths, the things you think - but she spins on her heel before you get the chance to grab her, which is a pity; you'd love to do that, maybe just push her flat to the wall. You know, if she'd let you. She would. Probably. You'd ask, definitely, but you’re thinking you wouldn't even have to.

Irene crosses her arms. The collar keeps slipping. You see her collarbone, smooth. She is flawless, no fucking wonder. You are almost terrified of her at times.

"How do you know I’d have said no?" you ask, and it sounds a little sweet - then there’s you noticing an old bruise along her throat, where her shoulder dips down; that was probably your doing, probably from this week, last Saturday maybe? Her skin seems softer somehow, looks like her makeup was fresh at the beginning of the day and the end of the night, that kind of evening smudging. She's smiling with her nose crinkling up. 

She doesn’t react when you press in closer. 

"Really." You’re waiting for her. Probably waiting for her to kiss you, to reach up on her toes and latch her wrists behind your neck, to reach her mouth to yours - though, she doesn't. Her breathing picks up, so it's almost like she doesn't have to, she's smiling at you so sharply. It’s a rare win for restraint as far as your apartment is concerned.

"So then where lies the issue?" she asks, and then she simply waits on this smoldering sort of glance.

You can’t help the laugh that follows. "I mean it's the principle of the thing."

Irene hums at that. She glances to the side. Toward the windows, back to you, and then all over your face.

"Then, allow me a principle," she finally says, staring straight at your mouth, real subtle-like. "Yes, I'm going to keep coming here. Probably a lot. I mean, unless you have an actual issue you'd be hardly one to talk: Mr. Keeps Do Not Disturb Active At All Fucking Times. I bet you're the last person to go through their voicemails, too."

"Guilty, but look - I hit critical mass, like, a thousand unheard messages ago. It’s untenable and unreasonable. You should be offering me pity."

"You are ungovernable." Irene sinks back a bit against the countertop, slow, smooth and sinuous. "You're basically a hermit." She smiles at her own assessment, the grin growing with its truth. Her eyes sparkle in the low-light and her teeth bite at the bottom of her lip. The tea kettle starts to rattle.

"I think we’re supposed to be discussing the breaking and entering here," you correct, dryly, and step a bit closer, "also just for the record, hermits are implied loners. And yet."

"And yet," Irene echoes, letting her voice trail away.

There's an uptick in the corner of her mouth, and she glances at you, quick, momentarily mirthless. You wait for the punchline, the verbal parry, the expertly timed jab-

"What?" asks Irene, and her face instead is all soft edges, light pink lips, and clear, uncomplicated eyes. She grabs for the end of her sleeve and folds it one more time down the slender length of her forearm. The watch on her wrist catches the light. "It's a decent theory."

This almost feels normal, you think, like a routine, something domestic - Irene leaving her things all over your apartment, Irene occupying your bathroom cabinets and the space on your shower rack that used to belong to a singular bar of soap. This is a tale of a typical hookup arrangement gone absolutely off the rails: sex for a night here, a dinner together there, a break from the monotony. You shouldn’t even know Irene that well, you think, or nowhere near as well as you do - and somehow that didn't stop you from giving her a spare key to your apartment - or it didn't stop her from wanting the damn thing.

You try not to read too far into that last one, since you're probably the only idiot that hasn't noticed how smitten Irene has been from day fucking one. It’s your fault, it’s hers; there’s a case to be made for either.

"You can see how a girl might walk in and jump to the wrong conclusions," you remark.

Irene laughs at that, "Oh yeah?" and her eyebrows raise, her lips pursing in an immediate half-smile - this hot little line that’ll get kissed right off her mouth if she’s not careful. She doesn’t even pretend to react otherwise: that same brand of pleased, almost flirtatious - a bit unyielding. Pragmatic, maybe. Not fully on board, still keeping a distance, just an inch outside of what it could be. She never stops fucking with you. She's never anything but beautiful.

It's very unfair, if anyone’s keeping track.

"You mean like an affair?" She laughs out loud. The mark at her temple dots the expression like an exclamation point. "Like me, as your mistress. That’s fucking crazy." 

"Satisfy my ego. Pretend that wasn't, in any conceivable world, the worst possible phrasing, but yeah. More or less," you say, "one which would, mind you, seem very poorly planned on both our parts, all things considered."

There's a pause where she scrutinizes your face; you stare evenly back. It's kind of a bluff. You are sort of a self-centered prick, on occasion, but you are not lying to this woman; you have no reason to. Maybe it's a gamble: to hope she understands you better than she ought to, or to wish she'd accept you in spite of that. To want her, in your home, at your leisure, a friend or something more. 

Trying to materialize words for the immaterial is largely the dilemma.

"An affair, huh" Irene repeats slowly, tasting the word carefully, like she's trying it on for size - and she cants her hips towards yours. Her fingers had wrapped around the bottom of your tie at some point. "My goodness, that’s like, so, so romantic of us."

"Also jesus, please, ‘mistress’ is horribly gauche," you say, and Irene tugs a little too hard and you step forward. The smug look on her face suggests, not entirely unpretentiously: how else, then, shall we call it?

"But look at me. I am in your kitchen, I’m wearing your clothes," she reminds you, with another tiny pull, which draws you so much nearer. You can feel your neck prickle. "That makes us quite close, wouldn't you agree, darling?"

"Dial it back," you tell her, because Irene's the only person in the world that can put so much stress on a single fucking word and get away with it. 

But she's watching you, watching you still, intently. She looks good, smells somehow even better, You inhale her. There's this cloud of shampoo, fragrance, whatever she's decided to wear - citrus today, light. God, she's so fucking gorgeous.

"I'm still trying to scold you," you end up adding, because it won’t go without saying.

"And I'm waiting for you to." 

It's not the right answer, though your annoyance dissipates almost as quickly as it rises: Irene could probably charm her way out of anything if she really tried, maybe, and still make the entire world like her even better - so instead of responding, you just sigh, and sink further into her. She wraps your tie once around her knuckles, and tugs again, harder and pointedly, but it's not so hard that it hurts; you know she could manage that if she wanted. Irene just grins up at you, rosy in the face and pretty: no pain, just fun.

"Are you mad?" She tilts her head in and places her exhale right over yours. You could count her lashes if they’d stop fluttering. "Are you going to tell me you'll send me packing now? Just order me right the hell out of here and change the locks, do you mean it?"

"I would, definitely," you say, without so much as a beat missed. "If I weren't so busy being inconvenienced by the fact you're so goddamn pretty."

"Mhmm." Irene fits her lips to yours, murmuring, "exactly."

Her body presses and pushes up against you, and you're thinking again about Door A, Door B. Thinking about your future, her future: it doesn't mean anything. Who needs to dream, when Bae Irene's already such a walking daydream? Hypothetically - a wicked little fantasy if nothing else. She still can't fucking resist pulling away after just a second, just a touch too soon, and laughing right against your lips - even though, when you open your eyes again, her eyes are softly closed and she’s leaning in for more.

The reality is: the two of you, inextricably, are bound in each other's pull. A binary star of (1) extremely talented, (2) equally charming colleagues that only accidentally get lost inside the same room: (3) office, (4) storage closet, (5) bedroom, (6) living room, (7) kitchen, (8) the little-used laundry nook. Your list keeps growing. It is exhausting, but maybe not the worst: not, actually, so bad-

Your hands flatten against the cool material of her skirt.

"I could," you mutter, trying so hard, "you know, stop this. Maybe."

"I actually happen to believe you," Irene's saying. Her teeth graze your chin. "But maybe you can try," she offers, not so helpfully, "just this once?"

The hem of her shirt slips up the long stretch of her leg. It doesn’t move far before the bend of her knee has her pinned, skirt pressed flat to her thighs. You aren’t exactly a gentleman, so you pull it to her waist as you press even closer. The nylon feels wonderful against her legs.

So you let it boil down to the instinctual, the obvious. To physicality: her hip against your own, her soft sigh as the kiss grows in strength. You wrap an arm around her middle; her hands cradle the sides of your jaw - the tip of her tongue brushing yours - then her fingers find their home on the nape of your neck. When you touch the inside of her thigh, across the smooth fabric, ghosting over the center - where the tension is tightest - her lips part a little. She shivers. You try not to smile about it.

"Slow?" you ask her, and the amusement feels unfair to her, even if it is your best attempt to appear thoughtful. She sinks her nails into your skin and her eyelids open slightly. They gleam. "Told me to try," you point out.

You touch her, feel the heat as she says, a little strained, "I did." She swallows. "I'm allowed to change my mind later, though."

"Fine," you relent, "then so am I."

She considers this briefly. Her lashes lower and raise. She nods.

And the teasing has to go somewhere. "Well," you murmur, and kiss the hinge of her jaw. "Mistress it is. Guess there isn't much left to work with, huh." And in any other context, these are the things that earn you another patented-glare, a toss of a pillow over the bedspread, a hard swat on the chest, an indignant 'well fuck you, I can't believe we're having sex!', an abject departure, a million things all at once - at its most dramatic and emotional: a maelstrom of verbal riposte.

Here, though-

She hikes her leg even higher around your hip. Her fingernails clench even sharper. Your tie falls down a button, to the crook between her neck and shoulder, and her hair comes free of its messy ponytail. The line of it skims over her breast, just so.

Irene sighs louder, and does that thing, a deepening in the middle of the noise that lets you know exactly how badly she wants you - this, you're getting familiar with, or the start of it at least, that fine-tuned way Irene wants someone when she doesn't even hesitate to show it. It was odd, and at first almost embarrassing to see. That might've even been part of the charm, you think: Irene could want to devour you. You were you - slightly interesting, and in her eyes, probably the most intriguing fuck - but whatever her reasons, it all clicked for Irene. She had a system to evaluate and adjust and execute. There wasn't room for wasted effort.

"Hey," she hums, low in her throat.

"Yeah," you say, lifting her right up onto the counter. 

And see - there are these gestures, reminders, not always in good faith, where you make her feel small: Irene's wrists are suddenly so narrow, one right at the surface of the counter, fingertips cool at your collar, and her nail polish chipping a little at the edges. Your palm is larger, enveloping the high, broad arch of her hip, the sharp line of bone to muscle to sinew. She feels fragile, is what it is, a fine-boned little bird, a thin silhouette under her loose, borrowed shirt - it's almost poetic, a regular old fuckbuddy - a physical habit, and you know her, know how many inches, and you can find your favorite parts of her in the dark, but-

"Want your mouth," Irene's saying now. Her lips glistening, eyes liquid; you want to tell her that that's an indisputable victory, just objectively, even before the clothes fall.

"Tell me where to put it," you offer back, and watch the corner of her lips twitch up.

She runs her hand through the back of your hair, mussing it, the lazy drag of her nails, her heel right to your lower back. The light from the stove is doing her wonders, gold catching off the paleness of her skin. "Make yourself useful, I think, like on your knees."

You raise an eyebrow at her.

"Don't give me that look" - and Irene shrugs her shoulders back - the shirt falling more, the flat plane of her stomach - this jut of bone, the pretty contour of her ribcage, the stark outline of her body just under a few too many buttons.

"It just comes off a bit greedy," you say, letting the words twist, playing with the hem of her skirt between your fingers.

"Maybe because you reward that kind of behavior," Irene retorts immediately.

"You’re spoiled," you laugh. "That’s all. Just spoiled. Life must be great for you, do nothing and let someone else do everything."

It's another one of those, 'you fucking like it', and Irene smirks like the shape of her mouth here is foreplay enough alone. She might be onto something. Like the easy back-and-forth - how she's sharp as razor wire underneath you - a double-edged sword if the weapon knew the sheath.

You lean in. She places her palm flush to your heart, like she can measure exactly how long you’re drawing this out with its steady thud. You know she’ll repay it in turn: she thinks it's hot to jerk around with your emotions before she fucks you, like playing roulette with her orgasm, yours - a slow crawl, a nice burn. Her fingers curl.

"And here you said I was ungovernable."

Irene huffs, slightly. "You are still fucking talking."

"If I shut up, will you scream for me, sweetheart?"

You run a hand up her waist. There's this whiny intake of air. Then Irene says, soft and slow: "earn it."

(Maybe you shouldn’t keep enabling her. Therein lies the problem. Okay, so maybe you like this particular problem.)

But she's tugging your tie out of the way before the words leave her lips. The distance you have between is scant, which seems to be fine, with the way she leans in as the last syllable drops off her tongue, kissing the corner of your mouth, impatient.

It takes approximately zero convincing to drop to your knees; that much has not changed. You glance up at her. Your hands curve to her waist, sliding up. It's funny - how your fingertips just brush under the billowy fabric, how the taut skin over her ribcage fills the length of your palms, and then a touch further. Perfect proportions, as Irene usually is; you're on your knees and that's by design.

Your thumb rolls over the outline of her nipple and it peaks, draws into a quick, rosy point beneath the flimsy cotton, like an open invitation.

Irene smiles lazily, gorgeous - and sinks back again against the countertop. Her feet land on your shoulders. The nylon in the bend of her ankle slides soft at your throat, gentle. "Waiting." She sighs a little. "Still, waiting."

You press a kiss over the nylon, the fabric underneath, teeth barred and tongue pushing. "You said slow," and the rest of you might as well catch on fire, just for borrowing a moment’s composure. You can see yourself bringing her down to the floor, the kitchen tiles, spreading her legs and fucking her into the linoleum, scratching them up, making her cum as many times as she asked. But there's this heavy drag down your back, the nerves blooming. "So let me. I won't get distracted," you murmur - or don't, really - into the softness between her hip and waist, along her navel, the tight planes of her tummy. "I promise, I'll get there, baby."

She hesitates. The breath she holds back is a telltale pause.

And the first thing that really sinks into Irene's skin, besides yourself, is this: every last shred of hesitation she was waiting on, the self-control? Now gone. You've done nothing but serve its loss. She seems to sense her power; and in one blink, the act is apex. In a beat her nerves are recovered, and the nerves are fuel. A natural killer, an organic toxin, that same smile curving her lips, a pointed glint to her eyes.

"Baby, your mouth," Irene insists, her knees falling to the sides, "open. And yes," and a pause, or maybe an addendum, a double meaning in the downtime, "to be perfectly frank: free for me to use. To come and go as I please."

"Haven't left my fucking mind for a minute, sweetheart," you offer up right back, not bothering with restraint.

Irene clicks her tongue. "But yet, you don't ever do exactly as you're told-"

She hiccups, or something close to it - because you grab her ass, bring her hips closer, until you can sink your nails into the firm give of flesh.

Irene looks down at you, eyes just wide, and - ah.

She sighs. Sighs because she knows - you can find god in everything; that’s the goal, that’s the creed - and maybe Irene wasn’t your original way, maybe you were always meant for a different sort of holy figure, but the words you choose are doctrine in the end; that first prayer you got down on your knees and said to her was no less truthful for its betrayal. There are rules to it: this is faith, the religion. This is her. You belong to Irene, and she belongs to you.

"Um. Did you just tear my stockings?" she asks, like a sudden realization, her mouth still dropping.

You nod, because, well, yeah, and pull her panties to the side. "Permission, forgiveness, et cetera."

In lieu of a reprimand or a rebuke, she lets a shockingly pretty little moan when her pussy gets stretched by a finger, two - and they're wet, slippery, easier than the lace had ever expected, and she's already so plush, red and rosy. Irene has always gotten wet quickly, with your fingers, your cock, your mouth on her - and her head falls back in one languorous stretch. The tightness around your finger is dizzying. You'll never grow tired of watching her: a sudden shift, the spine so pretty when arched, the pulse of blood under her thighs, the fluttering of her cunt as it comes to the very precipice of letting you in.

"Do you understand me, baby?" she's asking you, and her breath seems to pick up and the muscle flutters again.

You waggle your eyebrows and lean in, and whisper against her skin, "better than anything."

Your mouth attaches to her clit and never lets go. You fuck her, all sweet, on two fingers. Down to the last knuckle. You curl your fingertips, and she's gasping. The scent of her drives you fucking crazy; this is what paradise has always tasted like, and heaven's the press of her thighs - your name spilling from Irene's mouth. She gets wetter, and wetter - you lap as it floods out of her, down her thighs. You lick it, taste the salt and her bitterness and her arousal, how her pussy grows slick in an instant, swollen under your touch, wanting, aching. Her heels press over your shoulders and dig in, tight.

When you look up over the tight spasms in her diaphragm, you realize she's got the shirt unbuttoned, finally. Fabric spilling down to the granite, skin and bra and sheen; you wrap your arms around the perfect curves of her thighs, the nylon shifting soft on your hands and bringing her closer, hitching up to your shoulders. This is only part one of what you owe Irene - the easy part, actually: you can see her clench in the same breath that she's straining - the need and want to fill her up a sin, the wet smack as her folds are pried apart by the flick of your tongue, the sounds of your hands, the desperation. She'll want, and you'll get, until she can barely handle it. Until the tremors overwhelm her, until it is too much and it never will be, ever enough - until she's left so gorgeous like that, shivering.

The kettle's got the pitch to its scream now, and the volume. The sound makes you grind your teeth. Lick harder, suck longer, kiss a bit deeper - her clit, the pink tip of your tongue pushing in past the folds, between the ring, deep and heavy. Fingers moving slow, almost absent-minded, flitting across her breasts, pinching a nipple - Irene groans. The metal rattles louder, louder.

The shirt's rumpled, tangled, bunched up between Irene's elbows. You lean your teeth to the crease of her hips. You lick, the smell filling your nostrils, her fingers threaded in your hair - holding you where she wants you to be:

"And fuck, ah, do you, oh god- fucking do you- have an," she sighs, trembling as the movement of your jaw sends her shuddering, as your mouth runs and your hands open her legs. She pants. "Oh, darling. Have an honest-" she laughs and the sound pitches too, "-idea, I mean-"

Irene has started grinding against you. Your heart is thundering.

"-of what I'm-"

A moan finally breaks from her lips, so disarmingly beautiful. Irene grabs for the edge of the granite counter; she can hardly seem to make out what she wants. Her orgasm is cresting higher, each flick of your tongue and soft sound of you bringing her there, near. You like that she needs you, like that the word 'insatiable' becomes an insufficient assessment. You push, you move - her hands tug you. You taste her: a warmth, the depth, the pulsing.

"-what you're" - a gulp, a gulping swallow - the fridge keeps beeping, the front door sticks, and it'd be so perfectly quiet if not for the fucking tea kettle. It keeps boiling and boiling and you are drinking your fill, drowning. Her skin smells fucking delicious. You can feel her heat pooling. "Fucking, o-oh, fuck- fucking doing-"

You smile into it. Against her messy, quivering cunt. You are: unashamedly smug.

And fuck. She's gone, swept away, carried off, the pressure of your lips sending her crashing back down with a moan - the kitchen still buzzing and the steam a bit of a haze, and you haven't even finished bringing her through the dying breaths of her orgasm before she's gasping, pulling you back up on your feet:

"I need you, I- right now. Up here-"

Irene tries to grab for your neck again. She doesn't seem to mind her own lack of strength, though. In any other circumstance you'd think she'd look a bit pathetic: her shoulders curved, chin resting in a hand, a absent, pleasantly confused grin, legs and hair a complete unmitigated mess - and here: her lipstick wiped, mostly smudged, her wet, glistening thighs-

"Tell me," you say, and a thousand possibilities are imagined. To get inside of her, feel her nails dragging across your chest, her teeth at your throat, her moan as you slide into the very heat of her - fuck, you cannot stop. She's got you spinning and you’ll gladly lose this particular battle; a typical Bae Irene ending. "Please, tell me."

The water boiling over has begun to crack; and the first tendrils of steam begin curling into the air.

"God," says Irene, shaking with her body so desperate, her hand still grasping you back. The look in her eyes seems so beautifully wrecked, but in no hurry to show it. She smiles, because she wants that over anything. "Don't you fucking listen?"

She grins.

"Ah." Irene shakes her head, pulls your head back, staring, but does not rise to a sit, just slides herself out. One leg kicks, one, then two, from the corner of your eyes: her nylons shredding down their long seams. You're on your feet; you're not really standing, but then you have no real bearings to start with. Your cock is throbbing.

She just scoots on out, and shuts off the stove, and sets the kettle a step back.

"Maybe," you say, pressing your thumb to the seam of your pants. You could probably die of lust right now and have no regrets. "Maybe not. I think I need more convincing."

It would probably also help if your thoughts could stop racing.

"Huh."

She turns - though not with the skirt. The hem has fallen to the floor. A puddle at her ankles. She's only slightly out of breath; the wet between her legs gleams. The slick, smooth fabric of her lingerie sticks to the swollen outline of her pussy. Her fingers dip down, playfully, so she's leaning over the counter. She tugs, and it presses and plays and sticks at her center. You're obsessed, half-crazy from it. Her expression twists; it's fucking bliss. She smiles, one breath, then two - the house settles. You cannot stop staring; you can't. Your mouth feels hot and dry and sticky, wet from her cum, and your pants, you can't quite breathe and the view's only getting better: Irene naked, against the counter, the jostle of her breasts as she strums herself, as her breathing catches and rises, and those nails digging deep into her clit as her eyes drift shut-

She's biting her lower lip - but she looks at you and - stops, her toes pressed to the linoleum.

The moment is suspended, and suddenly the words do not fit anywhere in your throat.

"Want it?"

"Fuck," you exhale, and maybe she isn't just asking that out loud, she's the embodiment of the fucking question: the need between her legs so vivid. She laughs again, licks the taste of herself off her fingertip, sucks at the curve of her nails - she touches the tip of her tongue to the very edge of her upper lip. Her smile, in its sharpness and precision, remains unswayed.

"Bend me over?"

And then, very quietly, and without so much as a scoff in disappointment-

"Fucking christ," you mutter, and nearly fall in a heap towards her.

-

It's borderline unhealthy, that this happens as often as it does: sex that leaves you breathless, sex that shivers across every inch of your fucking skin, sex that aches afterward, that drives your lungs to strain, a moan trapped forever just behind her teeth. Her hips were either made for your rough palms, or you’ve worn them down to your grip. Softened all the edges. Her thighs open to you like you own her. The ridge down the center of her back, your mouth trailing down every vertebrae - her pussy. The inside, the depth - and everything she doesn't mean to let out: all these little notes she's learning with each thrust of your cock into her, and you think you should just say yes, give in.

Let it go, and just trust.

Sex as routine? A repetition of desire. What is routine is that, with Irene:

There's always a new discovery. She has you when she's bent over and you're pounding her knees into the cabinets. She has you on the floor with her. She has you when she's bent over and you're eating her out again, then on top, and on your couch, and with her legs kicked high on the shower wall, and - you fuck her, you find room for her on the bathroom sink. You cum all over her stomach and she just smiles dreamily. You fuck her until she’s almost sobbing, and then you're saying her name like she has your life and your attention, for everything and nothing at all. And after an hour of letting her have your patience, and your dick, your face pressed against her throat, and her nails deep in your back - you tell her she needs to stay. 

It’s a hell of an admission, apropos of nothing.

"Oh? Say that one more time for me," and she's half-covered, the comforter pulled up over her the gentle slope of her breasts, the bedsheet tucked around her waist. "Again," and you have no real use left, you're certain. The most recent orgasms have nearly shattered you both in half: Irene can barely focus on your mouth, where your hips had slammed hers into the bed and - you are pretty certain - definitely did crack her skull right off the headboard.

"Yeah," you mutter face down into the duvet, "you should stay."

"Then it's decided," Irene says out loud, rather victorious, and drops a hand down the span of your back. She's there still, fingering her own cum from inside her pussy. The look in her eyes, sly. The message in them could not be any clearer: what an excellent suggestion, since you both know she'll have no shortage of reasons to keep coming back, anyway.

-

It all feels rather satisfying, pretending not to like the girl. It feels good not caring where she is at night.

As she had said, like an affirmation, a real statement: "this thing, between us, is so uncomplicated. It's so easy."

And she’s right: 

She fucks, and you cum. She looks pretty. That's what she wants to show off, she does and does it well, and as long as you don't pay attention and pretend like it doesn't matter to you, it's an absolute fucking win-win. That's it: that's exactly why, when she calls, when she comes around and asks about dinner, you ask how far you're expected to go for her. What'll earn you her gratitude? Her pleasure's a quick hit, and it's free - if she asks nicely, if you're up for it, if it isn't the same bullshit, same scene - and the night's never a big deal to waste. That's her script; there's your line:

"What's your endgame here," is a thing you're always asking.

She tips her head, her hair falling off her shoulder, that old cliché, those large brown eyes, batting and fluttering. Just curious, but also to draw attention; what a killer pair she has, they're gorgeous. Your eyebrows raise, and your mouth falls open as her fingers dance over your chest, playing with the collar of the button-up that you aren't entirely convinced doesn't belong to her.

"Who says I have to have my mind made up right this second?" is Irene's usual comeback - a favorite - followed by another favor, then an expectation. Then, as your hands fall to the small of her back: "for you, the point is probably the chase," she reminds you, a low little murmur.

Your heart thrums with the little spike of anger. Then again, your cock's feeling the yearn ahead of everything else already; it’s a bad habit, and not getting anything you need. Or, there's a tumble, a mutual surrender in this somewhere. 

"Sure, says you." 

You kiss her so easily. Run your fingers through her hair and drink down her sighs, pull away and pretend. Pretend to dislike how pretty she looks when you do things like this. Pretend like you haven't missed her, that there is no desire, not to run your touches down the back of her knees, or sink your hands into her perfect little ass.

"Didn't need me to," she points out, the lick into your mouth. And her finger curls right under your chin, nails a pretty, perfect oval shape, manicured and soft at your throat, that way she loves - the angle intimate. "And yet. Not stopping me, are you?"

Which you're not. Neither of you is fool enough. You don't hate yourself, she doesn't hate the truth. So, whatever, sometimes you give in to it - if you could call this a 'means to an end', you suppose that might just about cover the ground, because her plans, her reasons don't matter to you, and vice-fucking versa: just to find an answer, or to find a few dozen, and that's enough.

You're no good at love; she says she's not looking for it either, no heartfelt romantic shit to get a tear out of you, she'd tell you at the start:

"Let's just play it by ear, how about that? I could surprise you. You could surprise yourself."

-

(But fuck: Irene's surprisingly full of surprises.

Take when she texts a few days later.

Hey, a blip on the screen, an innocuous string of numbers you refuse to mark a contact. There's too much power, and leverage. She isn't asking. 

It's been too long.

A winky emoji.

I think you’re able to do me a big favor.

A period. It is imperative. She would tell you, with an authority she certainly isn't trying to front or to prove: she likes her punctuation.

I could really, really do with that same favor that you gave me back when we went to that housewarming party, you remember. It'd really be the best thing you've done with your evening if you could help me out. Call it the nice thing to do.

Is your vibrator out of batteries? you text back.

You are a genius.

Thanks.

Let’s go somewhere.

Just this once. But dinner's on you.

A selfie. Slippery fingers, glued to her pussy, running through the glisten-

Oh. Actually, it'll probably be twice.)

-

So. ‘Surprise yourself’ was, naturally, the key. 

It's difficult to have a notion as to how exactly you might surprise yourself - but here you are a little later; she's dressed and in heels, and that's a relief, or rather a delight: this woman looks devastating with her hair down. But still, like this: the hem to her slacks that draws her thighs down to an elegant peak, the nice blouse she's got her buttons done to the top, and one less: this cleavage isn't wholly visible but the shadow is still a tease, her thin jacket only pinning in how her waist is cut into such a deep arc. Irene had asked if this looked too formal, and the second response in your brain was to ask why: her normal wardrobe's worse - less clothing, more fucking exposed. Then again, you might not mind watching Irene work so hard if it meant your hands get full quicker-

"That is absolutely no way to put it," she admonishes.

"Come again, Mistress?"

"Ass," she mutters. It's not even a reprimand so much as an agreement, you can see where the smile is trying not to crack open. "No," she corrects, and smiles anyway. She pushes a lock of her hair behind her ear, "I just mean- fuck you and your terrible metaphors. Anyway, we should go. You drive, my car is a total mess."

-

You take her out. There's dinner. There's drinks. It's something like a date, because that's what she wants. The hostess smiles politely. The waiter raises a suggestive eyebrow at your fingertips grazing Irene's leg underneath the table, and you both ignore the interest. You pass him her credit card without comment when you go to settle up. When you stroll about, the sun is going down and the dying light paints her skin orange, yellow, and red. She tells a story about work. You manage to get a few of your own. Your fingers loop through hers and the action makes her do this lovely smile.

So the gist of it is: you have a fling, her name is Irene, there’s some vague cohabitation occurring, and - oh, she's an absolutely fantastic lay.

It's the sort of thing that on the surface level sounds like a total and complete win, even for all its contradictions, flaws, and pitfalls. She fucks, and you're willing. She looks pretty. You keep her content. That's enough, as a friend-with-benefits; more of the benefits than anything else, she always reminds you. And every now and then, when Irene starts making demands of your time, of your availability - making plans, making reservations, making the expectation known that the two of you have a standing obligation, ‘benefits’ penciled into your schedules every Tuesday and every weekend (and Thursday, too, if neither of you is booked) - she suddenly becomes more complicated than she should have any rights or reason being. There's a kind of security you take away from it.

Irene's holding her clutch in the parking lot, posture perfect. The sky's on fire and the setting sun is burning down the horizon all around her.

"Can we do it in your car?" she's asking, totally nonchalant. 

"What?" "Sex," Irene repeats, like you didn’t understand the question. Her expression is bright, seamless. She holds her wrist behind her back, and twists a little on one heel. "I want to get you off."

This is a case study; you’re walking, breathing empirical data. You’ve gone from wondering to knowing about what they say in regards to women of a certain age. The appetite. The inexplicable desperation. It used to be a joke. Maybe it's because men in their 30s are unusually relaxed with their dating life, or all of their friends are talking about wedding rings, kids, a white picket fence - with life a non-event to handle with finesse and a delicate grip. Or: maybe Irene simply isn't complicated in the ways people seem to expect her to be. She’s needier for sex than usual, for starters. "Are you expecting some urgent business meeting, or an important call - any sort of personal news, maybe - like, in the next half hour?"

"Are you serious," you manage. Fuck her, actually.

"I don't know why, I just feel like you might appreciate the cramped quarters. We can make out while you cum and stuff."

You almost snort, but - her hips have that sway. The door’s unlocked. You stare. The purse settles on the passenger's seat. This girl is so stupidly pretty.

"You, uh, wanna get on top?" you ask, voice already slightly drying at the sound.

Irene reaches over and traces your jaw. Her thumb feels lovely pressed to the seam of your lips, rubbing over them slowly. Her mouth is this gorgeous color and you just can’t stop staring. "So cute. What’s your best guess, sherlock?" She pats the roof of the car, gently. "Get the fuck in."

-

Irene is, at her most shameless, a list of demands: give me your fingers, touch my clit, do it now; take my wrists, fuck me faster; don't you dare fucking cum - there's no rush here, so put in the effort. You have a basic idea of where you're both headed, and the situation demands you to, um, obey. The sound of her wet cunt fills the tight confines of the car.

"Fuck, Irene."

At her most elegant, she's pretty much the same, but she fucks like a total dream: 

"Slow, yes," she'll coo into your ear, in the early stages, before her head starts falling back and her chest rises, and all the sweet notes from the back of her tongue get driven to the fore, and there are moans instead of directions, groans and cries. "Feel me. Deeper. Fuck, babe, just like that."

Her nails drag deep, and that's not usually the plan - the start is fast and easy; her pussy drips like she's soaking a cloth, a fresh layer every second, and a clench that swallows every thrust; and somehow the friction's good enough that if you stick around and keep your focus, you get Irene begging for mercy by the end of it, just to savor and relish the sensation, the motion of your body into hers.

"There," and her eyes flutter, "yes. You are so fucking hard for me." She leans in, kisses the shell of your ear: "you’re fucking stretching out this little pussy, baby, you know that?"

"Jesus. Fuck, please-"

"Should we? Should I let you?" She clenches down, "fill me up, babe? You think you're worth the privilege?"

"If you'd let me - Irene, the things I could do," you don't breathe, "jesus fucking christ."

And she looks at you with wide, honey-smudged eyes. Pretty even when fucked; especially so. Her fingers get wrapped in your collar and she’s nodding her head in rhythm with her quick little bounce. The snapping of her hips. Up and down, and up and down like she’d be insulted if you didn’t drain your balls into her perfect little womb right then and there. She says don’t do this, don’t do that - and then she fucks you like you’re supposed to.

"Yeah, that’s right, be a good boy for me," her mouth whispers, even though there is no one else in her car, you're pretty sure. Her voice is like a vice, just you, with her hips, her hot little hands pushing you down so she's riding the top of your head. You can hear her dripping down into the space, a new leak.

"How're you gonna deal with it when I'm filling your tight cunt?" You thumb at her ass, squeeze. "This pretty, round ass? Want me to cum inside you every which way, huh? Marking up my territory?"

You hear her stutter on a reply, as her pussy gives a particularly strong flex, another contraction.

"All those wet loads, dripping out your cunt, down your thighs... on your lips... you gonna taste every last one, princess?"

She has a face like she wants to hurt you for that one, the moniker - you have a sneaking suspicion there's nobility in her blood, laid deep somewhere in her veins, another lifetime lived far from this one: she'll have a predilection for thrones, diamonds, queendoms to rule. And if that were true - well, you'd be downright lucky if she consented to an audience, even less entitled to her hand. She's out of your league regardless. Or maybe, she's the furthest thing from royalty and she just knows the script better than anybody. Kneel, she'll say, and you find yourself obliging; give me your mouth, your fingers, she'll ask, and you're compelled. It's all ingrained.

"What was that?" she asks, incredulous, riding your cock so hard the seat shakes instead.

"I said: this cunt, christ-"

You bring her closer to your face, have to feel that clasp of heat with every stroke - and when it is so fucking deep, her hips lock up, clamped, thighs quivering - you just hold her in place, give her a few breaths, let the satisfaction really sink in, even if she's already moaning.

"Well, I guess you got me there, huh." Her mouth gives her away, the lopsided-grin. "Yeah. So cum, give it." And then it twists. Her face looks so beautiful in distress, and you're certain you've had that thought many times since: if the situation demands it - maybe it would be just fine to push a little bit more? It's a neediness that doesn't go understated, even when Irene's more whining for it: like, the fuck are you waiting for, her tits out, panting, sweating, cursing and moaning at the slow drag through her slippery muscle, a grip like satin, like velvet.

You’re a total mess: 

"Breathtaking, the faces you make for me" - "you look so good, like that, so handsome" - "has anyone ever fucked you this good?"

It’s official. She'll have to scrape you off the leather.

And as if to add insult to injury, Irene’s hands come up to her hair, holding it up into a messy bundle above her head. There’s a tilt of her chin, a bite into her lip. She’s bouncing fast, taking your cock deeper on each twist, and it’s all very performative. Fucking Irene is as visual an experience as it is visceral, because chiseled into her figure, the lithe frame, are these model-esque proportions - like she’s not actually five foot nothing in her socks. 

(A beautiful little paradox. She’s showing off here. She’s showing off, simply because she can.)

"And you’re the one always calling me greedy," she breathes, like the punchline, as she takes the next inch, the wet slapping of skin. There's heat. So much fucking heat - she's got a pulse that pulls you forward and won't let go, your balls hitting her ass and thighs soaked, so red and plush and beautiful, a softness that takes a second and an elbow's reach and, fuck. Her thighs on the dashboard. "You've been-"

Your palms fit into the curve of her ass. How a small, fragile, dainty thing like her can have so much to grab onto remains a mystery and a fucking miracle.

"-a bit of a prick, honestly, for a minute-"

But she's so responsive - and you want to wring it out of her, really, a desire to destroy and savor, even when that sounds a little wrong and too close to sacrilege - you really ought to just call her the ultimate fantasy: she has the cutest tits, soft creamy thighs, tightly wound curves and a sexy-as-sin attitude; and when she sits heavy on your cock, wiggling her hips in a circle, you lose the plot and a little bit of your mind.

"-have to say, it's been getting to me."

"Here's hoping it doesn't give," you grumble as your arms tense and your back aches, your shoulders strain. Irene seems unconvinced, and she usually is, but the drive is relentless.

"Then you'll have to hurry up," the rake of her fingernails across your neck, "won't you?" and she is too slick and so eager, "because you’re gonna cum for me, sweetheart, just let it all out, baby." Her cunt and her heels in the upholstery and the stinging welts draw you deeper- 

Your hand braces around the center console. 

She has her lips on your temple, your hairline: "I’m imagining how my pussy will look, all creamy and used and pretty - all because you fucked it nice and hard and raw - no matter how many times I fuck myself with my fingers, I'll keep feeling the ghost of this fucking perfect cock."

The noise that leaves your lips is a full, throaty, ragged groan, your muscles shaking and skin burning. "Irene, god," you sputter out; it's not super attractive, you think.

Irene kisses the juncture of your shoulder and neck like it’s music to her ears, her jaw against your jaw:

"You've got to stop edging me, love, my little pussy was made to get stretched by your cock, show me-"

You thrust in deep. 

"Fuck."

"Oh," she whispers, eyes hooded and lashes sweeping low, an awe so thick to her voice. "Such a good boy for me - now. Make me cum, yes - make me cum all over you - mhm-"

You jerk your hips again - your pants hanging around your thighs, her blouse pushed up around her waist. You've twisted and knotted the fabric over and over into something you can pull or hold onto - it's not clear to you yet which idea's more pressing.

Because there's no breathing room. You need to twist your hips just to fuck into her - her lips are parted with this insatiable moaning, and it's sweet and pretty and filthy. She wraps one knee higher. There's the lock to your ankle, but she's grabbing the lever and trying to pull your seat down, the rest of it; you absolutely let her. All this in heels that would be impressive without a tight wet pussy pressing down on the length of your cock, begging for what seems like an endless number of thrusts into that delicious heat, the perfect clutch. She rides you rough: the leather beneath your knees shifting with the constant scuffle. Her elbows bent, a thumb grazing her tits, pushing up the silk and the lace.

Her soft, pale skin is spilling all over you, her limbs finding purchase as her mouth slides against yours on a new rhythm of need and want: "that's the thing, right? You're such a delight when you put your mind to it." She's pressing a kiss against your temple - her tone, this intimacy, a hotness between her thighs that leaves you breathless, dumb - it's the only sort of inescapable validation that might suit.

You had the perfect view as she shrugged the jacket, unbuttoned the blouse, sat the bra over it, just undid her slacks: this perfection, laid bare, exposed in your passenger seat with her tits squeezed in both palms. Then it was her hand tugging at the zipper to your pants.

So - you're fucking her harder than you have any business doing. Her nails are digging trenches in the skin of your forearms and you have the slightest sense of everything she has, wants, demands; you've had her under you, bent her in half, folded at the corner of your bed. You’ve fucked her with your cock so far into the slick-dripping hole of her cunt until she can't stop cumming - or begging - or the Irene-equivalent.

"There you go," she says into your throat, like it's nothing, and sags a little further into your chest. "There we go," she repeats. Her brow is glistening with sweat, and you kiss it: hot, and a little bitter. You can't help it. 

You're fucking her harder than she can handle. You're filling her. She's stuffed to the fucking brim with your cock, bulging at the folds of her insides.

And, christ, her fucking waist. She is so small, so fragile-looking. You wrap both hands around her middle, and as her hips grind forward, meeting the roll, she grabs your wrists, holds your hands up her ribs and gets, and gets - oh, just where you fucking left her. Your knuckles are left digging to the silky skin, bruises dotting purple across her back, her neck, her tummy and her thighs, every surface - you're grasping and claiming what she has to give you, just a hint. There's a million and one ways to love, to give back, to please a partner - but you have one goal: you're not an artist, you're not a philosopher, or a poet - so you’ll leave physical marks, reminders, of everything you've done and will do. You’ll make her cum. Just hold her still and make her cum again and again and again. The weight, the lift. If she asked, you would. Fuck. You would. She rides your cock and rocks you into the upholstery of the passenger-side chair. She sinks down and presses her mouth to the edge of yours, just shy, her own teeth pulling at her bottom lip-

"Your cock feels," and here Irene takes the moment for a heavy, contented sigh. "-ah, fucking unbelievable. Your fucking cock, jesus."

Her voice is… it's really so dreamy. The praise does strange things: you reach down and pull her thighs so they tighten at your waist. There are no illusions here, she's found something worth chasing. The bare-boned desperation drives her insides wild, you can feel it. The clench, the pulse, the absolute slutty-slick dripping, a real, honest, aching cunt, warm and clamped at the hilt of your cock - it's obscene, and your patience is stretching paper-thin. You aren't asking any questions; she's not taking them.

It’s just you and this petite, absolutely stunning, heartbreakingly gorgeous girl sitting in your lap and working herself on you like a doll, and- oh. She really does look great. It's impossible to look away.

The windows are fogged, and her cunt feels divine as she runs you further into your car seat. Her hips snap up, back down - the soft drag and then the cinching flutter. The inside of her, a total fucking delicacy. One of your hands slides across her back, counting the rise-and-falls of her spine. One, two, three, and so on. Her lips are flush at your throat. You feel her whimper.

It’s the most perfect noise you've ever heard.

"Baby," she mouths at your collarbone, her movements becoming more spastic, more erratic. "I can feel you throbbing."

The encroaching dark keeps threatening the corner of your vision, so much tighter each time.

"You're going to make me," you're gritting through your teeth - this feels a little insane, a little irrational. "Irene you- you’re going to make me fucking cum."

"Oh?" Irene’s reply is immediate. She slams herself down on your cock, hard. "Then cum."

Your patience is truly nothing at this point. There is not a single breath left inside her either: the heavy swell of her chest is proof enough, those eyes fluttering shut, the angle shifting as her ass meets your thighs. "Seriously, I'm going to fucking fill you, and it is gonna slip all down the back of your legs - Irene - sweetheart, I’m going-"

Her fingers curl behind your head. "Cum," and she groans, "I know- I'm here. Take it. Use this perfect little pussy, I want to feel you cum." and you pull the pace up into a frantic tempo. The metal beneath your back creaks with the strain; the bounce of her ass against your groin. The moan, it pitches: a need, a lust, and she is rolling, rutting her body in circles on top of you, a wild gasp and then a beautiful cry, almost in pure unbridled ecstasy.

The angle shifts and - fuck. You’re able to fuck up into her so easily. Her cunt is hot and soft in all the right places, wrapped around your cock, tight and snug like she was made for you. Every drag of slicked skin and clenched muscle sends you both reeling.

"Irene," you barely say, and you're cumming, you’re fucking filling her up with cum - the only possible endgame. You can’t stop fucking into her even though she's just been fucked senseless, stuffed with your cock: little helpless noises, squeals and yelps like they're being tugged out of her. She goes limp on you, and then she collapses, shivering and whimpering with every deep-bore pulse: you're going to mark every inch of her body, claim every part of her soul.

"Oh my god." A groan. Another. It's coming off her like a wave - like a river, really, you're drowning. "It is so, so fucking hot. Your cum, in my pussy..." She trails off.

Her tight cunt twitches: pulsing with every motion. She squeezes down - hard. It takes a great effort for you not to let out a loud, embarrassing whimper. Your fingers dig into her ass, her hips, steadying her grind.

But you're looking right into her eyes when she falls apart, too, that long, tensing shudder, the gasping groan - fuck - because she feels exactly like everything that you've done, you know: Irene's tight cunt has kept your cock perfectly in place. She was just waiting for the spill of it before the final, hardest crest. The smell's in the air and the haze is all through her expression and, god, you want her, you could just sink a million words into that, every possible adoration and every bit of yourself and you still wouldn't be getting the entire story; just fuck - you can never not be fucking her, never not want to have her riding your lap, moaning out and falling and dragging every part of your body deeper-

"Mmmmm," Irene lets out, soft and satisfied, a tiny whimper in the way that she goes all soft around your cock and comes down and presses a wet, tired kiss at the base of your throat.

"Mmmm-m?"

"Thanks, I think." Her blouse is falling off one shoulder, the material crumpled. There are creases all across it. She's biting on her lip, flushed. "Thanks for that."

-

It has to be said, here - because you know, because the sun is setting on your open window and your arm is snug at Irene’s waist and neither of you even have to mutter a word to acknowledge the fact that it will inevitably rise across your living room carpet again. 

Irene is everything you might have been running from, everything you’ve ever chased - and you’d never ever stand a chance.

-

Greedy, however, just isn't the right word for it. Not really. 

It's the way she leans in when you kiss. The way she fidgets. The way her tongue brushes across her bottom lip. So no - greedy isn't quite the right way to say it. It's more: instinctual.

She's this not-so-subtle tincture of want and desire, in its most basic form - and that makes this all so dangerous, isn't that right, miss? Because want isn't something to toy with; want is, by design, something measured in its inability to be indulged.

(And for the record, your car hasn’t even moved from the lot. You were supposed to get frozen yogurt but that's looking less likely, judging by the way Irene's fingers are tapping lightly across your shoulder, your own clamping down on her chin.)

It’s just so indulgent. Irene hasn’t left your lap, blithely warming your cock for you. Stealing kisses while the day’s last light bleeds low over the buildings. Soft sighs. Whimpers, mewls, muffled little keens of, "oh, oh, please." You trace the edges of her, where your body becomes hers, and her movements are fluid - supple and knowing and just this side of eager.

The car feels now even more cramped and narrow than advertised, the sweat in your skin starting to bloom. The musk of sex, a creeping heat: "go ahead," you rasp out. 

She nods, a helpless dip, and that comes with a sigh, "yes, fuck, right there," her cunt squeezing, a hot, slick little velvety clench; there's something about being buried inside her and seeing her fall apart. This slow rock and build-up. All the hard edges worn to a perfect point. Her dark eyes are glowing, her clever little tongue darting to her lip.

You hold her, slumping together in the front seat. The leather squeaks with the gentle shifts, the slides. The color rising in her cheeks. She likes when your breath catches; her smile goes sharp, a hint of teeth: it's very obvious that she is very very drunk - on control, on cock, it doesn't seem to matter.

A beat passes before the architecture returns to her muscles. She's sitting up, and with your hand firmly cupping her ass, and your teeth pressed to the flat of her breasts. "You," she gasps, the most unironic and unexpected reply. The corner of her eyes is still glistening, still dazed, still blissful. "Don't play dumb. Fuck - no, don't stop."

"Sorry, say that one more time for me, miss."

"You- ah." She grins, and her hip shoves your cock out with a filthy wet sound in accompaniment.

The air of the car is sticky, and her slick is still covering your waist, so the discomfort makes the little groan extra appreciative, anyway.

"Fucking god-" she grumbles, and the whine that escapes is an order for attention.

You take her jaw with both hands. Pull her, and look her right in her eyes and kiss her. Not slow. Not gentle. Thoroughly, so the tip of her tongue reaches the very roof of her mouth. She ends up with her back shoved roughly into the dash, and your fingers tangled through her hair and tugging. And her laugh turns to a whimper, her eyes a half-closed - you fingerfuck her cunt open. Thumb pressed tight to the clit. Two, and the palm of your hand smacks between her thighs, resonating all throughout the car. It's your own hot cum coating your knuckles and drip-dropping off your wrist, so she's melting and needy. The evening's passing, her hands go to her bra, so she's twisting and slipping, the orgasms strung together like the pearls on her bracelet.

Her fingers squeeze yours, then let go.

She licks into your mouth. "Jesus, you're way too good at that," is what Irene murmurs, when you're both just left breathless, half-shivering, merely recycling the same torrid air.

"Let’s get you home, princess," you kiss into her skin, joking. "Before curfew."

She sits up. "Shut the fuck up."

"Sorry," you lie, smug - not sorry at all. "Can't help it. You're too pretty when you get like that."

"What, when I'm cumming for you? When your cock is inside me? When you're fucking my brain to mush?"

Her heels clack to the ground.

"You’re gross," she adds, and shoves your arm.

"You like it," you say to her, "don't lie."

"Because I’m just this sweet innocent thing, right? I can't be held accountable for anything. Look at you, fucking me like this - corrupting me." A flutter of eyelash, and she leans forward to meet your eyes. She's adjusting the straps of her bra. She's a picture-perfect pinup girl. "Is that really what gets you off?"

"It's not bad." You let yourself soak in it, for a second, just staring at her. "The whole naive, helpless schoolgirl act. It's a classic for a reason."

Irene snickers. It's sweet-bitter, and that's fitting. You like how her blush is red and stubborn.

"Goodness," she says, like you can't see the dust of a smile, of a smirk, take shape on her swollen mouth. "Okay sure, let’s get into that; say my dad is sitting up with worry." Her head cocks, playful. "My family probably sent a search party out for me," and her laugh's lighter than air, warm, a few shades shy of ridiculous - if you thought that the sound could make you as much of a fool as she does - then yeah, that’s pretty accurate.

"What - like in a rocking chair, with his shotgun and everything?"

"Yeah, you’re so fucking dead. He's so going to shoot you on sight when he sees the absolute state you're returning me in. His precious little girl, " Irene picks at her bra, tucks herself back in, adjusts her hair. The last of her hairpins drops, falls to the dash. It rolls back, between your legs. "Pull the trigger and turn you into swiss cheese. Last rites, eulogy, the full nine yards." Her makeup's smudged - red lipstick, the tip of her nose - and you just don't feel like pointing it out yet.

"Cremation, most likely?"

"Eh, who knows," she smiles, and now, more than ever, there's not a sign of hesitation in her face, her voice, the light and effortless way she drapes across the interior, stretches. "You’re so cute though. Maybe he'll give you a chance and let you run."

-

It hadn't really occurred to you until you arrived onto the front steps of Irene’s apartment and watched her sink back against the door, exhaling softly in the fluorescent light, her eyes heavy, but you have a sneaking suspicion that you're doing everything completely out of order. 

You aren't in some trope-addled tv drama, and Irene isn't your childhood-friend or your slowburn-material, someone with a sentimental backstory.

Maybe in a parallel universe, some twisted alternate ending, where she's in this long, silky wedding gown, both sides of the aisle are watching you commit sins the way people can't resist doing in those fuck-it stories, all heat and sex and dopamine without remorse - but not now, not yet.

(Probably - probably not ever, and if that's a cop-out you can't help it. Because isn’t it silly, the things the people will do. Pretending to not be in love, all for the sake of the chase - getting themselves hung up in this world of digital advances and missed connections.)

You'll regret it later, you think. That's an unforeseen variable you should've predicted, though, isn't it?

Because you've both loved before, both been hurt, the excuses are all in the chamber: all the mixed signals and stereotypes. How she looks at you - or doesn't, some days. Your past, hers, the differences. You've never known exactly how this should go, if there even is a best version of this love to pursue, the idyllic happily-ever-after, that perfect white dress. Fuck, that is not the daydream you're supposed to be having.

The story instead, is like this: you drive her home. She sings along to the music on the radio. She kisses you over the console at a red light. Someone honks. You walk her to the door, because you're old-fashioned when you think it’s useful. You're a charmer, she's yours. You grab her by the chin and probably end up making out for far too long.

Just imagine if it had all been by the book:

A first date, then text messages. A second, where you're supposed to invite her to dinner, drinks. You’re supposed to call her, on the phone, with your voice and everything - low, a little assertive - not bossy or controlling, no: that's what the third date's for. There's a checklist for what to do, what to say; how you're supposed to kiss her, and why she's supposed to act all shy, the picture of demure - like she's innocent, though she'll be anything but. At the end of it, you're supposed to pay. She won’t let you. You're supposed to walk her home. She's supposed to linger, put the keys in the door and ask you what you're doing next - she's supposed to look over her shoulder as she walks inside and say goodnight, be coy, let it dangle on the edge. And that's supposed to be that. All of it: quintessential.

Nowhere in that manual does it say anything about pinning her up against the door and slipping your hand into her slacks either - underneath the soft, dark lace of her panties and placing your other palm over her mouth so the neighbors don't hear what a little slut she can be when she wants to.

Just this side of coquettish. A total delight.

Irene practically sobs into the side of your hand. Her mouth drops open, and you haven't even really touched her; she's wet already, soaked - well. She's always wet for you.

"I'll catch you later," you breathe into her neck, letting your fingertips skirt the puffy lips of her cunt on the drag back up because you’re actually not old-fashioned, like at all.

She tosses her hair, lets a sigh run through her smile, the blush, the creased eyes - and disappears through the door. It's the simplest way you two will ever say good night.

-

Ignoring all the rules of engagement, you and Irene never actually tiptoe around each other.

There's never even been a third date because the lines between hanging out and fucking and hanging-out-fucking blur with astounding ease. It's no real shocker: it's the little details in the way you find her sitting next to you at work, hips shifting minutely from side to side on the stool as she sifts through sheet music, sipping her latte, just barely making a sound.

It's the little details in the way she shows up, dresses to all the events, hands brushing yours to call attention to the ends of her fingertips; it's how every camera in the room seems to favor her.

If any of the 14th-century courtship philosophers could ever weigh in, now would probably be ideal. You’d be grateful, sure - because Irene is the epitome of entanglement. And that's your excuse. If anything's going to kill you, let it be her.

-

The texts do dry up for whatever reason. 

Three hours between replies just to conceal a bit of earnest emotion or whatever. You wonder what that's called, wonder when it gets so boring - why all these steps had to be so dull, and why you can't do without them. The modern era has, after all, rendered the ancient rituals pretty fucking pointless - you could both use a time machine to the medieval ages, then you could get the fireworks. The gallant. Some declaration or betrothal - maybe a show of sword, a fistful of your bride's maidenhead. Or whatever the fuck they were calling it in those days, it all sounds a bit crude-

When it really comes down to it, this is less about the charm, the proposal, or the lack thereof. Less about the dear Irene, will you be mine, and more about the want. Want that's palpable, messy: about shedding decorum together and feeling filthy and rough, taking, receiving, biting into the sweet skin of her inner thighs and spanking her so hard she can't walk the next day.

That's all it is, you're pretty sure.

And look - she still attends a majority of your work functions even though, strictly speaking, she has no reason to. Everything is relatively normal, or maybe you don't know how normal is supposed to look, and that's alright because you're trying - and all you really care about is Irene smiling at you with that one knowing tilt of her mouth - and - and she does. 

Hey, you're not entirely hopeless.

-

(The toxicity, the slammed doors, ignored voicemails and belted taillights zooming off into the night - look, not everyone is built for all the drama, not everyone feels the thrill at the tip of their fingers when they cut their losses and move on to the next. Floating through the memories thinking, wow, what a waste of time.

That's not you, you're aware. And Irene’s seen it before, probably, had a story just like it in her own life, maybe been there, maybe not, but isn't it fascinating how all of it always sounds the same no matter how the story gets told.

So, keep it simple stupid. It's easy that way. Don't confuse her, or yourself, don’t fuck it up by demanding more. 

Afterall, it feels good, pretending not to care where she is at night.)

-

So - take some credit, you do something right for once. You call her.

It’s a Saturday and she’s working late because she’s a singer. She's between hair, makeup and costume. Bored. Or, pretending she is, and if you were a lesser person, the type to lie to yourself, you'd let the pretension sit as-is. It's not even difficult: no effort required to sit back, close your eyes, and listen.

"The way he was just staring at me was so embarrassing," Irene is going on about this production assistant, and her voice is always light, playful - it doesn't matter who, it doesn't even matter what, it's the cadence to her speech that lulls. "Like I could read his mind."

"Can't you?" you ask, indulgently.

"Okay, don't try being cheeky, mister," Irene scolds into the phone, but it's hardly stern; her tone's the softest kind of sultry, like caramel, dripping. "He wanted to bend me over the table. Get some nice little marks in."

Hey, who could blame him? She exhales, almost sounds annoyed - the pout on her face is practically audible.

You are not a good person by the longest stretch of the imagination. "Then what stopped him, princess?" you question, not a hint of chivalry left in you. "Fooled me - isn't that your kink? Fucking men you've barely just met."

She laughs - once, breathless and abruptly; something sharp. You're not actually joking and she can't pretend otherwise. "Fuck." The word is a sigh, the suggestion is all over the air. You aren't blind. "You would, wouldn't you? Probably love to see me bent over, too - and split in half on some stranger's cock. Worshiping it like you've taught me, or whatever the fuck."

You hum in amusement, putting the pieces together from what she hasn't said. "Aw," you coo. "Missing me already I see."

"Don’t flatter yourself," she shoots back, all quippy, fast: quick reflexes, the stuff of her brand. "What am I meant to be doing while I'm waiting for the crew, huh?"

And well, that’s the thing - you end up on the phone for far too long, far too late: she leaves you to wait a minute when someone knocks on the door, and you'll have her later, probably, but what's wrong with dreaming of fucking her in one of those dressing rooms, pulling that corset down her curves and kissing her silent in case someone walks by - leaving teeth and nail marks across the tops of her breasts. You expect her to bring the conversation to something a little more in the moment, but her voice carries back into the room and she's asking you, casually, what's for dinner, how was your day. You laugh, tell her a funny story that happens, talk about everything that's mundane, everything she should know and would know about you if you actually spoke all the words in your head.

"Hey," she says, at some point, quiet and suddenly gentle, and you're already wrapped around her finger and you've yet to tell her. "I like talking to you. Keep calling."

This isn’t like you, really. Or it hasn’t been - not in a while.

"As if that's up to you," you shoot back, your voice so dry you know she can see straight through it, but maybe you're doing alright, making leeway - because at least, it's a placeholder. Irene seems to understand what you can't explain.

"Ha." Another laugh, airy this time: easy-breezy. A vocal shrug. "My hair is way too cute right now to deal with your smart mouth, anyways - they're waiting for me." She hesitates, but the gap isn't uncomfortable, a space to breathe. "Let's just say you'll get tired of me before I get sick of you."

"Do you want me to see?"

"Later," says Irene, almost hurriedly, like an excuse, but in a pretty way, and the click on her end of the line is still warm.

(You hang up, stare at the wall and take deep, shaking breaths: in, out, hold - when you don't, you can taste her. But still, you wait for the feeling to subside.)

-

At first, she had seemed entirely untouchable. It’s funny. At first, you were convinced she'd look right past you.

-

She sends you a video, no commentary: the pretty, delicate sweep of her mouth brushing her shoulder. Her arm casts a shadow down the rise of her hips and your eyes trail that shadow south, across the soft planes of her stomach.

There are no questions after it, no words or emojis. Just her. In lingerie and no fucking context. The sound of her inhales.

(She says things with her face like that - or rather she says nothing at all. There isn't a hand-written translation key, though she leaves clues. She's playing it up, knows how you like her when she gets mouthy, lips glossy, knows how you like her panting. It wouldn't take much if she put her hand between her legs for you: you'd suck on her fingers, clean them off. You'd do anything.

The sound she does make eventually is low, frustrated. It's filthy - just thinking about her, all alone and barely touching herself: waiting for your reply.)

-

And yeah, it'd feel good not having to think about the bullshit anymore - you’d do your best to convince everyone that it's casual: the looks, the touches, all of it - the two of you together. It'd be a total lie, and you'd know it: everyone would know it, but that doesn't really matter. Because keeping things careless works. Never had it been about the feelings, and it's a cop-out, sure, that old cliché, but look - there's a really good chance you'll muck this up if you're given the power to put a name to the way her pupils dilate a half second before she grabs at you. Or the way you always fall a little more for her.

You think about that, about the worst of it: that she could ask you the most invasive question on her mind and instead, you'd answer, honestly and willingly, just like that: "hey, do you want to stay the night?" 

-

But here’s the thing: she's a singer and she's got all these friends. Colleagues and acquaintances from work who are, in her words, also 'friends' (code for: people I am required to tolerate by contract.)

Hey, you're no marriage counselor - you won't try to figure out the etiquette. And her labelmates aren't a total disaster.

It's only fair to make an appearance, meet all these alleged Bae Joohyuns. And - she likes it, in that way Irene likes a lot of things you do to her. She’s texting you a new address every few minutes, texting nonstop by the time you've matched a tie to a shirt and are actually considering heading out. It's this afterparty, or wait, sorry, we're actually at a bar now - no, scratch that, it's a friend of a friend's place, you'll love it, I think? - and you can't really picture her stumbling through the city at midnight like she is, but there's a blurry photo of her and Seulgi and Wendy crowded around a mess of champagne flutes on a counter. An outdoor patio, a rooftop garden somewhere downtown. Her dress is breathtakingly gorgeous. There's an arm snaked around her waist and that's - hmm.

Wendy wants u here lol, the next text reads, and okay, you can't actually be bothered to give her shit for that right now. She can't be helped.

Someone's having fun, you type out instead.

Maybe I'm bored, comes the reply, just as fast, and then a few seconds later: i don't think anyone knows me here.

You roll your eyes. You'd love her despite, or maybe because of, a personality like that. "Never took you for anything like a celebrity."

Fine. I'll have to think of something to do, then, Irene responds, almost lazily, the following text-delete cycle appearing under your thumb like some new and innovative high-speed braille. Maybe.

But you could also come over and get me off, you think she should add. That could be fun, too.

No dice.

Meet me soon, she texts, and maybe a drunk mind speaks a sober heart, but she doesn’t even know what it does to your stomach when she follows it with, I miss you.

You wonder, a little, how you got here. You wonder if things like that ever just become normal.

-

Kang Seulgi is standing out front when you spill out of an uber and onto the sidewalk, all stooped over under the yellow haze of the streetlight on the corner, smoke coming up off a cigarette hanging out of her mouth.

The chill night wind picks up and the edge of a leather jacket flaps behind her. It's almost eerie in how mundane the sight should be - and you think it's funny: Seulgi can make herself at home, anywhere.

"Hey," the brunette calls, stepping up. She's tall in her heels, the crescents under her eyes deep. The stars in the sky are shining against all the bright signs and street lamps, and it's hard to spot them. "Haven’t I seen you before?"

"Around the office, probably-"

Seulgi's eyes light up - she's not as drunk as the photo suggested, you think - and she gives a bright smile. Her eyebrows jump in recognition: a blur, the glimmering pulse of neon over glossed eyes and a lip caught by a canine. "You're Irene's-"

"-work friend," you answer quickly, before she has the chance to finish. It makes her laugh, which you weren't really counting on, and pocket her hands. You have enough bad ideas; you don't need hers as well.

"Oh. So you’ve got an arrangement," she suggests.

"It's an occupation," is as much as you'll tell her. "We all have one."

"Mhmm," she agrees, the wince on her face passing as a thoughtful hum. She shrugs.

"Did you-?" You clear your throat, don't know why it's hard to get out. "Is, uh, Irene in there?"

She takes a slow pull, long eyelashes sweeping over her cheekbones. Smoke spills out over her top lip. "Of course," says the girl, with all the attitude. "Just, not so alone."

"So," you start, cautious. "Do I even want to..."

Seulgi waves her hand, drops ash off the cigarette. "Nothing to worry your little heart over, friend," she mumbles, shrugging. Her fingers are delicate as she blows smoke between parted lips, eyes angling up at the city lights. "She said she was meeting someone cute. And I’m left wondering, if that someone could be you."

"Um," you respond. "Could be."

"Hm." The word is loaded, considering, and when she takes another step forward there's a smirk painted to her mouth, the deep red cut in the center of her lips almost reflective. She tosses her cigarette aside: a clean arc into a storm drain. "Interesting."

Seulgi's fingertips brush your collar as she ducks into the door in front of you.

"Later, pal," she tosses over her shoulder, and doesn't look back to see what happens next.

-

(You’d feel so much lighter, like a feather, with her off your mind.)

-

A crowd's scattered around the rooftop, now spread a bit thin - most of the people you recognize from tv screens and billboard ads, and everyone else seems a mix of other media. They're talking to each other in hushed tones about some shoot-down, this piece of gossip. They're comparing agent fees, checking the pockets of their jackets, flicking gold-plated pens in their designer hands. The whine of a power drill going a mile a second comes from over the railing: a few shots left to take. A skeleton crew works behind a camera, behind the glass, but no one seems to mind the business of film in the midst of celebration. They really are a different breed, aren't they?

You pick her out of the crowd instantly - in a white silk cocktail dress that costs more than a college tuition and no sense to act the part, Irene is seated among all of them like she fits. It's never a surprise, her at the center of things.

The seam at her hip rides up when she turns to reach for her drink, her leg extended long: overstretched, one toe pointed elegantly as if she could place her full weight onto a thin little stiletto heel and not snap both ankles. Her bottom lip is coated with bright gloss, pink smearing as it pulls at the straw.

There's a pause where everything slows down: she licks the crease of her mouth, sucks something golden and sparkling down, swallows, blinks - slow, pretty, perfect. Her hair is dark, cute, spilling onto her shoulders, and it brushes a collarbone, slips a little into the slit between her breasts. She's looking for someone, gaze traveling across the patio, swimming through the party - searching - and then, suddenly, those deep-water brown eyes catch yours.

They shine just a little bit brighter.

And then, the only logical thing: Irene smiles, before her feet carry you right in your direction.

-

Inside, things aren’t so loud. The night had gotten its worst out of the way early, the only source of music low and reverberating through the walls, the ceilings - all dark and liminal spaces; you and Irene find one to spare and fall into each other there, slow and searching and full of everything. It would be enough to get lost in her completely, this sweetness. You, and the kiss, and nothing else.

It's almost private enough to call it quiet; you're both out of sight and hidden, but there's voices, drowned noise all around. The bass can be felt through the floorboards, underfoot, but you can only focus on the rhythm that thrums from inside of her chest.

There's a disarm, here, too:

"I kissed someone tonight," Irene confesses, and then there's this break, a fragment where neither of you knows who you are to the other, what any of this means - if she'll bite down, be that sore reminder of a few unspoken words.

"Did you."

"Yeah," she says, exhale tickling your jaw. Her lips drag on skin, trace bone - and maybe it should bother you, but either way you can't help it: a thought finds purchase. Irene in someone else's grip, just enough a squeeze. Someone she'd like, or someone she could put herself back in a relationship with, or whatever they're calling this - and all at once, she's trembling.

The revelation is a bit like getting shot through the heart. A simple, awful: fuck. You think you might be bleeding.

Irene pulls the strap of her dress back up her shoulder and explains how it happened, out in that patio garden: a closed-mouth thing, some fleeting nothing, really, a bold dare on his behalf and her lack of inhibition. No, she assures you - he tasted like vodka and it was boring. She kept his hands off her ass, just in case you wanted to know. But still, the blood pumps harder in your veins knowing what she has and hasn't done - and what's wrong is how you only hear her confession in the middle of feeling something envious, a sudden, strong, profound desire to mark your claim: you'd leave this bruise, something ugly at the hollow of her throat. It makes you a possessive, possessive kind of person, and the sentiment, you figure, can only end in trouble.

"Sorry," she sighs, tipping her face forward to brush her forehead against yours, her eyes scrunching as she apologizes. "I don't think you wanted to know, but-"

You're trying to distract yourself; she's pressed between you and the wall, arms circling your neck as her spine bows under a bit of pressure.

"Yeah?" you question though. You can't not. There's this telltale roughness, the need to breathe: you'll hold on too long, take her mouth the way she deserves, keep her quiet, and let your tongue flick across hers until her lips are numb. "What then - should I care? Am I meant to?"

She swallows. It's all reflex.

"He kissed me," is all she says, and then her palm is stroking against the shell of your ear, soft, quiet. "Then he kissed me again." 

She shivers, eyes wide, wet and round and wanting: you could say you understand how he could only dream of being the one to turn her head and bring out her charm, the easy way she smiles, but-

"All I could think of was you."

There was never a chance to compete; this star whose shine eclipses. Your binary system was never quite fair, was it?

Your hands are on her wrists then, trapping them at her sides; her eyes smoky and dark and looking straight up at you. She can't breathe like that, mouth agape as your nose brushes hers, your words blowing straight against the heat of her lips:

"Are you still thinking of me now?"

It's only that - though you can hear a sound building up from her lungs. You kiss the line of her jaw and whisper things into her skin: you have me, you can have me, you've always had me. The truth.

And her eyes are slipping shut: mouth curling into the kind of smile that drives you crazy; half the reason why you're all over her in the first place. You don't care where she's been so long as this is where she ends up, your face brushing hers, the kiss held just out of reach - you press into her forehead, her nose, her cheeks; she tilts her chin towards you, begging you to just - but your mouth is on her, feather-light, not near enough: she chases the pressure, gasps your name as your lips find hers, tongue sliding right past, and oh-

It's fast. It's heavy: you take, you push; her whole body shifts and shudders when she finds a grip, one hand braced on your shoulder as the other swung upwards, pulling you closer by the jaw. Your hand runs up her thigh and you hear her inhale, deep.

Irene kisses you like she was made to. She makes sounds with her tongue against yours, ones that twist in you, wind, undo. Like this, it'd be so easy to just let it go - take, take, take. There's not an inch to hide as your hand climbs her bare skin, feeling a shiver rise as her breath rushes hot against your cheek, over and over and-

"Breathe, baby," you mutter, and Irene huffs like it's a game, one of her soft shuddering hiccups, like there's something you should've known - the gasp when you kiss her mouth open, how it was getting easier to drown. She's not drunk, but she's getting there - and she doesn't ask to take it back when you both tip and crash into the wall beside. The reverberation of her back hitting the surface is nothing like the rest.

You take her arm, press her further against the space.

"Bedroom," she barely manages to request. Breathes, the sound shaking and short, almost - almost a plea, or a prayer. A beg. "Somewhere quiet, please. Anywhere. Please."

There's nothing Irene doesn't do without grace - but how she needs you: her limbs give, and she sags, falls against the line of your torso. There's this full, bordering helpless sound as you find her waist, holding her up, pulling her closer. You're kissing in this empty corridor, knocking on doors, jiggling locked door knobs and wasting time, barely, maybe, forever until you can step back into some stranger's guest room: some hallway hideaway; the unoccupied kind of paradise.

"I want you," she mutters when your hand traces the slope of her neck, and then her face is burying against the space below your ear, her open mouth skirting across the sensitive skin there. "So bad, so much. Out of these clothes."

Her neck tilts and you lick. You find a place beneath her ear, kiss - hard. Irene says please. You leave a mark. You know you’ll leave more. 

An unlocked door, and she shoves you into a bathroom instead, fucks you in there with her underwear tugged to the side and her skirt rucked up her thighs: the mirror reflecting back every whine, the squeal you draw out of her when your teeth dig too deeply, the shock, the undiluted want in her eyes when she leans up against it. You have her half on the sink, your arms a cage around her lithe waist, your grip white-knuckled in the silk outline of her dress; she cums around your fingers, cunt slick and slippery, gasping your name so loudly that you have to shush her; and even after that, when her gaze locks into yours, the pretty round of her cheeks all red and her lashes stuck with her tears: when she tugs your zipper down, fits you between her legs and pleads for you to fill her with your cock until the tightness around it is unbearable, fucking her just as you're pulling apart her clothes, the clasp of her bra snapped so hard she curses - even that doesn't stop. She doesn't ask you to stop - she's incorrigible, needy, practically begging.

"Please." Again. Again, as she touches her cheek, fingertips on the skin that's already turning a deep crimson, all shades and blooms; and then she touches the lipstick-smudged prints at the top of her breast, and all the ones on her jaw. Your teeth, where it was light, and your tongue where it was hard. You took, and you marked, and the way she is, her thighs quivering like an aftershock; her body pliable, barely-breathing: that was almost all of what she asked for.

Your hips snap, and the impact jolts through her: ripples sent into the curves of her body from the pleasure, the pain. You try not to listen, not to look - not the obscenities leaving her mouth in a steady stream as you press her down against the counter: every hiss and moan, your name, jesus fuck-

Irene cums a second time with a wail, like someone's hurt her, like she's been set free, like she'll never again breathe so well as she does when your lips catch the scream and hold down the sobs, fingerprints at the faint, fragile curve of her nape.

"God," she whimpers into your mouth; and the sound, that voice, as she moans it to you: "your cock - is gonna kill me, baby."

Her cunt is tighter around your cock than it's ever been, this total vice grip, her hips lean and arched upwards where she lies, slick-dripping onto the bathroom counter; the edge of her heel catches on the marble-topped basin, and her ankle knocks over the handsoap - the whole of it hitting the floor and shattering. 

She doesn't care. She can’t. She's a fucked-out mess: her black hair in knots, sticking to her hairline, her face flushed with need.

"Darling," the sweetest, her soft voice cracking with a laugh, the tipsy tilt of a joke; she's begging with it, some lazy, pretty curl of a request, some pretty plea that turns around into a bite, the heat, the feral - you kiss her harder. Take her harder. Leave a few more marks: just so you know she'll still feel it later, bruised and sore and sorry, and it might be too much, but oh, the way Irene grabs and pulls and fights and tries to cling when it crosses the line; she'll be feeling this tomorrow, a sharp tugging at the inside of her chest as she rubs circles into the scrapes and imprints on her hip bones. This reminder; of what's right there, if only-

Mine, you bite against her skin, and the voice in her head might scream with it.

You can see the fantasy in her eyes: her standing here in the mirror after you've filled her pussy, fucked your cum back into her cunt and had your fingers inside her for so, so long that she'd been soaking, dripping with it - your palm pressing firmly on her swollen, desperate clit, two fingers hooking deep, right on the spot that makes her twitch, tremble. Her jaw goes slack, eyes fluttering and back arching as you watch her drip with the mess you've made of her.

"It was always, I think-" and she hiccups, a small pained sound, "it was always gonna be you." She says it like an apology, voice quieter, more uncertain, a little shaky. "I just can't get you out of my head."

Your hips are reckless, a little mean - but your mouth moves slowly across hers. It's tender. It’s everything. 

"Baby," you plead back: and it's something soft and small when you sigh it into her mouth. Your fingers tracing her ribs and feeling how she breathes with your every motion; how you're filling her so deep she almost can't. Choking, with a whimper, like it's hard - and then her jaw goes slack, eyes snapping shut - her knees bend - like she'll give up on the control. Her body slackens and gives under you; her legs widen to fit your hips, all her weight sinking backwards on the marble-top-

She keens when you bottom out, a high, delicate noise. Whimpers at how full she is of you; she must've felt your rhythm slipping and letting it run too rough-

And even then. She asks, totally breathless, panting: "Right there," and fuck, god, please. "I love this," she whispers, the sweetest, the most gorgeous, lips moving as slow as a prayer - "and you fuck so good. And-"

Irene swallows; her chest expanding and then halting, shallow and deliberate. Her chin turns; her mouth opening in some expression of yearning before the word comes; a gasp, and she can't - she can't quite-

"Keep- baby, please." Her throat makes a noise and all the words taper. "Please, right fucking there."

She makes another sound, strung out and desperate - and she keeps gasping the faster you thrust your hips. Each drag through her hot, wet cunt has you both clambering closer.

"This," Irene's panting, this terrible, wonderful realization in her mouth. "This feels like-"

A stutter. A strangled sound: you don't even catch a full breath before she's trying again.

"-like us."

Oh, Irene, her heart murmuring. Like something soft, like something hard - this burn, this hurt; Irene, in her prettiest, highest pitch - the way she speaks, the way she breathes, her voice dropping a decibel like some clandestine secret. Like sin, a honey-coated whisper in the space between you two.

"Irene," you say, and she melts like you’re inscribing it into her skin. DNA-deep, carved into her bones. She takes it like a baptism, something in it an invitation, a promise to hold her dear - and all at once, that smile grows, blooms. 

It's intimate. It's affectionate. Fuck, it's true.

You break open her world with her own name, spoken like a sigh and sounding like sin.

There's this hollow, raspy sound she makes. Beneath the shallow of her clavicle. When your fingers push down, her nipples pressing back into your palm - there, as her breath hitches, as she quivers - right there; her cunt trembles around you, eyes wide-open, and you're just watching each other lose yourselves until Irene has to beg for another kiss, and the next, her fingers grasping at the collar of your shirt as she slips her tongue into the corner of your mouth. You wonder why she bothers with perfume; when all she is is vanilla and cinnamon, a saccharine so sweet with a touch of spice; she murmurs the words into your ear: I want your cum. Fill me up. Use me.

You think:

God, her body; god, the feeling. The sound.

Think, still:

Look, your hand. At her waist. At her pussy. Right here. The place where you're connected. Flesh, bone, a stretch of skin - the raw, obscene mess you make; when all it takes is a rock of your hips, a thrust upwards and in to dismantle everything that is her, everything that is Irene, until her entire world is centered around you-

It could be a chorus, a refrain:

Let go. Let me see. Drown me out. Kill the lights. You’ll take three hours over three weeks where you pretend she doesn’t exist. It's simple. It’s, it’s-

It’s this: the press of her to your skin. The nails to your scalp, down your neck. The splay of her legs across your thighs. The sweat - hers, yours - all of it together; your mouths meeting and meeting and meeting. Again and again.

God. It’s the entirety of you which you were hoping to avoid. You love this woman. You fucking worship her, all of her, every piece and the whole - that she's making that noise in the back of her throat, soft; that her breathing is rising, ragged; that you do this to her, just this.

It happens in a blink. You tell her to turn. Tell her to bend. 

She ends up over the counter, gripping the sink, and you lift the fabric up to bare her ass and keep fucking her, deep, deeper. This sound is all you need, this whine that Irene makes, like you're reaching even her furthest, hottest spots - and then the push through her sopping cunt, how she spills around you and the slickness smears at the insides of her thighs; she clings and squeezes and fucks back against you so wildly, she doesn't even recognize her own name. It's the moment when she loses all sight: that's when you bury inside her, pull back her hair, wrap your hand around her throat, and she's under you, on you, body angling upwards like a flower to the sun. She cums so easily, shuddering into the pull of the climax; her pussy tight around the throbbing swell of your cock - the deep and penetrating pain of that desperate pleasure, like a flash-flood, an earthquake, oh, the grip, the warmth-

The moment stretches, just like that. 

Her heels kicked off and toes arching to scuff at the cool, tiled floors; she's sensitive; she wants to play dirty. Your grip loosens, that same tender thing when her throat bobs, a little movement, swallowing for you. She knows exactly what she's asking for, exactly what this all means - Irene begs so prettily: "put it inside me."

There's a few seconds in which you feel nothing but the heat and the way she flinches, like a reaction that's programmed straight into all her nerve endings; the raw instinct; the shudder from deep within her core when your hot cum finally starts to spill thick and heavy inside her - it's been too long since your last proper fuck, and her moaning in the mirror is, how do you say: an incredible inspiration.

"Your pussy," you can hear yourself say, throat gravel-dry. "Is so fucking tight, baby, shit-"

And she's nodding, voice ripped to ribbons. All the words liturgical, a prayer. She's begging with them; yes, please, fuck, god yes, give me-

Her thighs press together, but her eyelids have begun to fall.

"Use me," she mutters. Her breathing begins to even out - the very real sign she's spent, near unconscious. "Want this, want you - so fucking bad."

And the evidence is there. Irene is falling apart beneath you, hands fisting and legs spreading even further as she's braced against the sink, bent, and presented. All of it makes a beautiful sight: the spread of her toned, ivory thighs; her ass pale and her folds so pink; how she's bent, waiting. Everything about her is an artistic consideration, designed, purposeful.

"Christ," is all you manage. The strain is evident in how your tone rasps.

Because your hips are still pumping Irene’s cunt with cum. Fingers wrapped around her tiny waist and pulling her ass flush against your hips for good measure. Again and again and again; no room for doubt: you've missed the warmth, the fullness. Soaked to the hilt as your length curves within her; she coos, and she loves it. She says it’s ruinous. She says it feels incredible. She says it around the shape of your name and with no hint that you should ever stop fucking her apart.

"Feels so fucking amazing." She's panting and she can't say another word for a while; it's a fact and the other is simple. "It's - so good."

She can't stop moaning. 

You’re both breathless, watching her reflection in the glass, a study in motion: the soft bounce of her breasts in the mirror, the cords of muscle tensing in her abdomen, the small, pinkish mark blooming below her left ear. There's her lower lip, pinched between her teeth, her eyes flickering shut as her hair drapes across her naked shoulder and her skirt rolls higher on her waist. She doesn't try and muffle herself: you could hold her down, or even give her your fingers to bite down on - let her go a little wild as she wrestles against the instinct to stay silent, keep quiet. You plant an open-mouthed kiss against the side of her neck and look up, see her watching the movements, her dark eyes lidded, dazed, fucked-out-of-her-mind content as she smiles - lidded and lovely and impossibly knowing and rocking her hips into the moment.

"You are unbelievable, you know that?" you're murmuring, your palm on her shoulder. Pushing her flat. "Absolutely breathtaking."

You rub a thumb against her cunt, pull at the outer, exposed, sensitive parts as Irene's smile falters. You just keep pushing.

"Oh, baby," she whines, pleading for more. For one more press, another, anything: she begs you. "Your cum feels" - she swallows hard - "so fucking warm inside of me."

A shush, the palm soothingly pressing between her legs, and she bites her lips hard. Still trying.

So - you push it all deep into her cunt. 

There’s this beat, this moment, this quiet - where her eyes pinch tight, voiceless, speechless.

And right after, Irene is whimpering: her body seizing and shaking and arching away from the viscous slickness that just keeps building with each and every drag; the cum left on your cock when you pull it out, leaving Irene on the verge of sobbing, collapsing on her stomach, trembling. Your fingers are covered in her cum. And this is how she likes it, stretched and sloppy. The shudder through her body is proof: all over her nerves, electrified. Irene’s shoulders go limp when she feels the push - then your knuckles, curling. The gentle touch, the pressure, the fingers spreading her slit.

She asks what else, anything, please, and hints at wanting more; so much more.

“Irene,” you say, smiling into the ends of her hair. Maybe, you consider. Maybe later, maybe when you're fucking her flat on your bed; your cock up her tight ass or your palm coming down heavy on the supple roundness. You let her fantasize a minute, imagining it's the roughness she wants to receive; maybe the hot, slow grind of you still inside her or the whisper at her neck and her toes digging into the sheets. The offer has her breath stuttering in the mirror.

Irene tells you it's unfair.

"Sorry," you say, and don't mean a word.

Another breath in, the lungs expanding against your palm, ribs slipping. In and out, a reminder.

"Don't be," Irene manages, exhaling a laugh.

She offers you her lips, you know she doesn't mind - and she kisses you. You sink down to the bathroom floor and she sits so easily in your lap, your mouths meeting over and over again. She strokes your spent cock. Your hands squeeze her thighs and you take her chest in your mouth. Wiping your own smear of wetness off her tummy, bringing them to her face, letting her nose knock into your palm and lick at the tips. 

"Can you taste how sweet your cunt is? Baby," and your mouth is on hers, kissing all traces off her tongue-

There's so many things you could do, it's enough to keep you sated for ages. Her back is pressed against your chest, and you gently draw another spill of cum leaking out from her pussy; she shoves your digits into her mouth, sucks until her jaw clenches, your thumb rolling around the roof, tongue pressed right between.

"If someone sees us," she whispers, licks her lips, your fingers, moans, tilts her hips and grinds down a bit. "We'd be so screwed."

"Don't worry, I'd say," and you can't help the tease in it; your voice low and all grit, the heat and your heart rushing through every vein. "It'd all be my fault."

It's filthy: her sitting in the puddle of your cum, making it soak the thin material of her dress; your heavy spill leaking from her cunt and soaking your slacks as the mess seeps further and further down your pants and her ass-

"We are such a disaster." She says it wistfully. "You and me, like this. A total fucking disaster."

(With your clothes torn open, hair a disaster, the imprints of your lips and fingertips all over her, she means. If it was anybody but the two of you: oh, how ridiculous it would seem. But the sheer audacity of the possibility has her looking at the cum glistening on her thighs. Then looking back to you, her dark-brown eyes, brighter than stars, searching the depth of the hold in yours, your arms wrapped around her.

Maybe she just wants to have this. For as long as you're giving it to her.)

-

You can feel yourself falling so deeply into her, the pull. The draw. It feels a lot like being lost. Like, there's something about loving her. The night's long and she's pressed so closely, fitting like something just perfect, and the way her hands find your ribs is the nicest, fondest ache. You only break out of the haze once the footfalls of her heels begin to echo behind you. The bass fades as you both make a run for the exit. It gets harder not to laugh - your giggling voices slipping between you. You have her nose pressed to the dip of your collarbone, kisses dropping in her hair, her lips curved into a smile every time your thumb does another circle - that place right below her hip, or right there behind her ear.

"Take me somewhere," she sighs. Her body pressed against yours, her cheek snuggling against you.

"Any suggestions?"

She shrugs, and the elevator chimes. "I wanna sit with you."

When she leans forward, just the faintest movement, her mouth upturning in the smallest smile. Her eyes flit away, and her brow wrinkles and lifts, like this: here. You could swear, to god, or the devil: there isn’t an ounce of light inside you that doesn't live at her mercy.

The clock is ticking down into the small hours. The night at its calmest, darkest, most wicked stillness.  You ask her again, this time, just for clarity, a bit of guidance. "Somewhere we can go? If you have nowhere in mind, we could head back if-"

"No." Irene shakes her head. "Take me anywhere but home."

-

You're drunk. Irene's a little worse off. Her heel snaps. The usual grace, the poise, her ease, that’s all but vanished. It's just her: Irene. Hair windswept and the edge of her nose nipped by the chill, the moonlight.

She’s so fucking beautiful.

The night can hear her laughter in the air; you have her hands clasped around your middle, legs hoisted over your elbows. You’re carrying all fifty kilos of her across the pavement; the streets are quiet and the city's yours. Her dress bunches, and her voice is in your ear, a kiss peppered to the back of your hair. The both of you collapse and - ow, it's the crash onto concrete, a scrape and a bruise and a story to piece together tomorrow. Is this from the tumble? the sex? I don't know, Irene will say, sealing a band-aid over the red, the swell. Maybe this, maybe that. It all happened. The physical marks, the chemical thrill - the proof of life, a permanence, tethered.

"Let me, Irene," you're insisting, half-joking, pulling at the broken heel and tossing it a mile behind you. And like it's instinct, you just can't - can't help yourself. "Your legs are gorgeous, but, y'know. I’d hate to see you get hurt."

You run your palm down her calf and steal the other shoe. It gets tossed in the same direction, over her whine. "Babe."

Irene pouts, still too lovely, still too fucking sweet. 

She doesn't laugh, or blush, or try to argue. Instead, she sweeps your hair back, curls her fist at the nape of your neck, and suddenly you're staring, eyes locked and wanting. Irene leans in, her weight settling against your forearms, and gives you a look; just long enough and tender and dreamy and calm enough to have the ache of your heart match its rhythm with her own.

"What the fuck," and her smile cracks open as the words struggle in her chest; her hand goes down your arm and strokes a featherlight finger to the edge of your jaw. "Please don't throw away a woman's shoes without permission."

She hiccups. Sways.

You kiss her. And kiss her, and kiss her. Irene smiles right against your mouth.

"Stay right here," she says. "Go get my fucking shoes, but stay right here with me."

-

Look, it feels so good, not worrying where she is at night.

-

"I thought," she's whispering as you cross into a twenty four-hour minimart, Irene on one arm and both her heels in the other - a pack of wet wipes in your hand - and then her pausing, stopping; this brief flutter of something - she says, "I used to think about how this would all eventually fall apart."

Irene leans forward and gives her weight onto you, hand playing around with the sleeves at your elbow.

"I used to wonder which one of us it would be," and the cashier is ringing up your purchases: a bottle of water, a cold compress, baby wipes and neosporin. The ice cream Irene's insisted you treat her for. She runs a hand up the back of your hair and smiles when you meet her eyes again, "which of us would drop the other, you know, first."

"The thought still come up?" you say, sliding a bill onto the counter and offering a quiet "keep the change."

"Yeah, sometimes. Or I mean I'd be watching you, sometimes, I guess." She smiles at your reaction, bumping your shoulder. "That’s the look."

You're walking out to the parking lot and you're pressing a soft kiss against her brow, waiting, patiently; because you always do, waiting. "Do I need to ask?"

Her grin, close-mouthed and gentle, a tinge of fondness, of humor: "you're going to ask either way."

"Hm," you say, popping the lid off the ice cream, breaking off the flimsy paper seal of the container. She's in the pocket of your blazer, Irene's fingers weaving in between yours, her hand reaching for a bite and grinning all the while.

It's four-thirty AM and the early hours will catch up to you, but. It's this: the yellow-orange streetlight above the two of you and her bare feet dangling off a concrete half-wall. In a white cocktail dress and sitting, you and her, atop a parking barrier. You're here, together, watching the skies lighten in the east - there, where the road will split to lead towards her place. Towards your own.

"There's no way," she says, wiping the corner of her lips with her pinky and then making a face. "For us to be together and not mess this up, eventually, somehow." She steals the carton and balances it between her knees. "There's no way to save this."

"Probably not."

Her mouth curls. There, and gone; there again.

"Doesn't that scare you?"

Your stomach is a riot of twists and nerves and the base of your throat is tight, like a swelling.

"It does." You lick your lips, can't think. "A bit, sometimes." You look at her - her profile, her silhouette, the messy, knotted ponytail, the wisping hairs beneath her temple. The press of her lips, how the gloss rubs off onto her knuckles, staining. "But then I see you - and I can't imagine how I'd even pull a 'it's not you, it's me,' convincingly."

Her throat clicks, and she leans her head against yours, and you're forgetting everything else.

You both stop. Sharing a bite. Sharing the silence.

There, and gone.

"Hey," she breathes out - and you can't explain her expression, how her brows knit together; she squeezes your hand, a tremor, and the corner of her lips pulls upwards, almost apologetic; sad, or thoughtful.  "This ice cream is so fucking freezer-burnt."

"It’s not great."

You watch her nose twitch like she's holding back a sneeze, or a sniffle. She laughs instead and leans against the warmth of you; the smell of her, your bodies touching.

"I love it," you hear her say, and she doesn't give the container back.

-

Irene falls asleep in the backseat of a cab as the sun rises, your blazer draped over her chest; she murmurs your name and pulls closer, seeking warmth. The traffic thins as the roads lead to where she'll disappear, and you find yourself dreading it already.

In a day, maybe two. It’s funny. You could end up hating each other. You might have to force a pause, or take a break, or even step back from her entirely. That’s how it goes. It's the hardship, it’s living - it’s the knowing that she has a lease on life that will end, will expire, a loan where all her days are slowly counting down; a timer you recognize the injustice that it might someday read zero.

Not to get too far ahead of yourself, or to project some awful ending where one isn’t likely: but when Irene and you are like this, soft, sleepy, curled into each other; her hand at the small of your back, resting; this close, and closer. Your heart aches with an ambiguous type of feeling, indescribable-

Irene shivers a breath and presses her face into your shirt; and like a revelation: you fall further.

"Where do I take her, sir," the cab driver asks, and your eyes turn, watching her chest rise and fall, steady, easy; as her grip grows looser and her cheek presses onto the leather seats.

She's too gorgeous, too pretty in slumber, in sleep, the innocence the most dangerous thing; you fix these wispy tendrils of hair back behind her ear and press a hand to her temple, stroke the line of her jaw, the bow of her lip. How soft, she's always the sweetest sight - with her head resting, her mouth falling slack, eyelashes fanned out over the fullness of her cheeks, and all of her like this, all her darkness tucked away: you think about all those times you've traced her from across a room, across a city; if there was anyone else you'd rather wake up beside, in your bed and beside the pillow; someone who doesn't pick your fights and your silences and loves them in spite of, despite everything. Who lets the fights burn white hot until it leaves you both splayed raw and exhausted, in her, on you-

Someone who fits so, so perfectly with the grooves and the curves, who completes you.

"Just drive," you murmur, looking away, blinking away. "I'm not gonna remember."

You're thinking about a book you'd once read, an idea. The world of difference, the fact in its finer detail; all the myriad iterations of 'loving' and 'missing' and 'want': the imperceptible shifts between being the absence of something and feeling it, tasting it, taking it, drowning it and holding it in your palms, seeing it every time you turn, breathing, living: wanting to never let her go-

"You alright back there, bud?" the driver asks. The tone: the slow and steady understanding, his age, how he watches you, the soft shake in your voice, the gentleness with which you hold your gaze - he knows. A blind man could read what your heart’s written on your sleeve. "Late nights are a killer," he says, a chuckle, before shaking his head, muttering, "but mornings even more."

There are a few more hours left. Maybe more, maybe less, of not worrying, and not caring. The thing about loving Irene is this: her touch, the press and the tugging and pulling; her body and her heart; she can be anyone, the best friend, the boss, the mistress, the princess. The pet. And you would be remiss, she says, not to remember: you, too, can be just anybody. So long as it’s you, I always come running.

-

It's the last time you kiss her, and that's an okay thing; you pull off the side of the street to brush your hand up to her temple, and when Irene opens her eyes to you, her lashes fluttering against the swell of your cheeks; her hair in soft strands over her forehead and framing her face like this. This vision of her is for you, all yours, all the little things.

"I’ll see you soon," Irene says, sleepily, and you know that you will.

-

The nook she occupies in your head by now, is so well-established.

You can't remember when it began. Not like there was a sign, a hint, or a clue. Just, her. And her lips and her tongue and her touch, all this reckless abandon - like everything else, there had to be a leap.

Even with all the lights burning out and the moon hidden in clouds and the nights and days unraveling around you - in those early days, the press of her shoulders or the palms of her hands would always send the worst kind of butterflies through you, like everything else - just her, the sway and the tipsy, the turn and the look she'd have before she would touch the pad of her thumb to your cheek and drag her nail down the curve of your smile.

(It had felt - and you're no longer in it - but it had felt so frighteningly fast.

Weeks, she had told you once. I fell for you in weeks. Months? Years? Fuck, no time at all.)

-

"Hey," Irene says in the not-so-distant present. She's sitting across the kitchenette - knees under her, bare feet pointed to the window, and the steam rises from her tea.

"Mornin'," you mutter sleepily. Stretching, craning your neck and arching your shoulders and ignoring the pop in your lower back, the strain at your ankles. Irene tilts her chin up and blows through the steam. There's an air of self-sufficiency, a state of mind she seems to always have, as if, the ability to ignore her vulnerability is a muscle she could constantly flex, expand, train herself to avoid - and all you're noticing is how that small movement has her shifting and curling over the cup, trying to keep warm. Her hair is pulled high in a knot and held up by an elastic, her baggy sweats loose and rolled twice over, the camisole low, a thin strap sliding off her shoulder.

"When'd you-"

"Had to wake up earlier today." She blinks, her legs slipping open, bending.

"Any chance-"

"No." And Irene snorts. The teasing pull of her lips has your stomach twisting a little more: "you know me."

That you do; the lazy Sunday, the slight pull in the center of her lower lip as she purses it. Irene, with her hair messy-perfect and that stupid fucking smile, so careless, and the joke-flirt she's doing; she knows just what she's doing and, yeah, god. You still have a weak-spot for her and it's so big; the twist in the base of your throat. Your morning wood rising. You’re familiar with this: the deep ache.

"You know," you say instead, blinking through the heaviness of your lashes and scratching a thumb against the line of your jaw. "A girl could walk in and mistake this for an affair."

"Girls love me." She turns the cup around in her grip and grins again, makes sure that the image stays locked. "Or," and Irene holds up the fingers, counts on two. "I've had two affairs in my life. One is basically a distant memory-"

"The other?"

Her teeth press down on her lip again. "How am I doing so far?"

"Honesty and self-disclosure in the kitchen, at eight in the morning? Irene, you're really outdoing yourself."

She lifts a brow, then brings the mug to her mouth - like a second-rate cigarette and a scalding-hot burn. "If you did bring a girl here," she says after a while. And, smiling: "she'd see me sitting here, incriminatingly pretty. I mean, she'd probably cry. Screaming fits, a fist fight. Then the waterworks - oh, he was my first! I loved him! He took my flower - ow, don't touch me, I think I might faint-"

"I doubt it."

"Ooo," Irene sing-songs, turning and crossing the space to sit on the armrest beside you. The sway of her body's so obvious. You've got enough room to pull her onto your lap, but you keep your hands to yourself. She runs the tips of her nails over your shirt, just above the buttons and across the sleeves. "Hun, I bet she'd kill you. It'd be very bloody, but romantic. Sad, but inspiring in a mundane sort of way - something you've only heard in mystery novels. Riveting, sordid stuff. Could fill your entire inbox. I mean, as they say in Chicago: he had it coming."

"Nah," you decide, after a yawn. "Too dramatic."

"Not at all," she scoffs, peering at you over the tops of her glasses. "The man she loved was a heartless betrayer."

"Can I ask why my imaginary girlfriend always comes across like some cliché young ingénue? You seem to have a lot of opinions about this girl."

"What, the girl next door, a little smart, but neglects her intuition?" She flips the bun at the back of her hair. "All wide-eyes, a ribbon in her hair, a flower-child who's seen too many Wes Anderson movies." She sticks her tongue into her cheek. "Never once stops thinking about the bad boy."

"If you want to get technical, all my girlfriends have been older than me."

"Whoops," she says flatly, hand falling to her collarbone, "spoke too soon. Got you wrong. No need to panic. I'm sure you, a man, are not drawn to some young thing, easily swept up in a passion. Simply, if nothing else, for the sweet naivete. Those hushed little moans and then, the screams. She would tell you it hurts - and on the same note, she’d be begging you for more - the little slut. God, she'd still be so, so nice and soft and quiet. Ready to be anything for-"

"And if you're the girl?" You stand up and grab her wrist. "What then?"

She pauses, considering this new development.

"You do not treat me very well." Irene pushes the bridge of her glasses back up the curve of her nose. "No candle-lit dinners or grand, public gestures." She twists a curl of black hair around her finger. "Definitely not a confession on bended knee - oh, no, never, never - you'll not have to stoop to that. Because you are, in fact, quite terrible at it. I don't think I'd have a single opportunity to pine pathetically, waiting. And maybe you're a bad kisser, actually," she concludes.

You tsk, scandalized. "You are really not cut out to be the ingénue at all."

Irene laughs, softly, reaching out to tug gently at a tuft of your hair. She smiles up at you - and it's so easy for her, somehow. So graceful. "Shall I fix that for you?"

"Do not fall for me, sweetheart."

"I will try to resist the urge." She tilts her chin and presses a finger to her lips. "Kiss, first."

You lean forward, let your nose bump her temple, her hairline. "Glasses, first."

"Whiner," she murmurs. She yanks, gently. Tugs and pulls, and presses the pad of her finger at the sharp cut of your jaw - her gaze half-lidded and slow as she holds yours. Like she's reminding herself, something she can't forget - what it feels like, exactly. A reminder. You can only keep your eyes on the slide of her jaw. "Gonna keep you like this forever."

"Love," you find yourself whispering. Sometimes you wait just so you can relive that first kiss. Irene swallows. "What a beautiful temptation."

-

You imagine, again, if it had all really been by the book:

Three dates and a letter of recommendation. Making her pay for half, instead of making her feel guilty about paying at all, which for the life of you, you can't fucking figure out: how to treat a woman. Chivalry in modern times: a fucking travesty, truly. She'd lure you to her apartment, or you'd do the same to her - just after the first, you know, the obligatory. The getting to know her, except you'd end up skipping the post-dinner steps of being a gentleman, which would leave the night open-ended, and you wouldn't give it much thought until the kiss against her door is so fucking filthy it makes you reconsider everything and everyone, you know, the morality of fucking someone more than once in a day.

You'd have hit all the milestones, she'd have to lead you to bed, and you'd play all her favorite movies as she lays across your chest and shows you what she likes to do best: finger herself, or something. And you'd talk about it, afterward, you'd acknowledge it - because this should be what dating is, right? This should’ve been the next few months of your life. Running that same exact pattern, knowing each other so well you can tell what sex will be like before it even happens, anticipating exactly what kind of text you'll get the next day - the call the following night, the feel of her hands on you in all the right places. The lazy moans, her lipstick imprints on your skin, the smile at the corner of her mouth. Nothing like putting your own fucking hand in her pants and rubbing a few hasty circles until her slick gathers around her knees and she can't walk for a whole day.

Things fall into place, they fill gaps, the idea must be mutual at some point - mutual attraction, mutual enjoyment-

How it is Irene got to spending five, six nights a week at your place is beyond you. Not because you're worried about what people will say. You're not. It's just - weird, to not know what you've done to make this last so long.

Are there rules to loving someone? Is there a checklist, a script - what praxis will keep things in place: comfortable. Last you checked, you have no fucking idea how to treat someone like she deserves. To treasure and cherish, hold her tight but never cage - what qualifies, huh?

"Irene," you say, one day - as you're both brushing your teeth. Because really, what does.

She looks at you like she's bored.

"Forget it," you reply, laughing to yourself and leaning down to rinse your mouth. "Idiot."

"Wait, no," she says, stopping mid-brush, her toothbrush bouncing obscenely in her mouth. "What?"

"I said forget it," you tease, and of course, the glint in her eyes is a warning if you ever saw one - but who would you be, then, if you didn't lean in close and tell her, ever so gentle. The three words could be: not a clue, or, you're so petty, or, simply, I adore you and she’d let that one lay to rest.

You choose them a little differently, and Irene's face lights up like she hasn't known all this time. 

A foamy spill of toothpaste leaks down her chin. "Th'a m'eh?" She's a mess, wide eyed and dripping and already reaching to swat you on the shoulder, disbelieving. "You can't just-" and her face scrunches, this exaggerated - ugh! - before she hides it in her hands.

Oh, you love her, and it feels so good, not pretending.

"Again. Say it again. I didn’t even hear you." She knocks her knee against yours, grinning behind her palms, wide and genuinely - happy. "Like, have some decorum."

Laughing - so hard you can't breathe - you shake your head and curl your fingers tenderly around her wrists, pull her hands from her face. "You are so greedy," you attempt between breaths, letting yourself press against the softness of her palms, her wrists, the pads of her fingertips - wanting to be a poet, she is a masterpiece - and tell her properly.

-

a/n: thanks for reading, it's always unbelievable to me anyone ever finishes these fics. This one's a very belated 'thank you' present for @yieldtotemptation. I'm like way late, but thanks for everything.

#irene smut #irene #red velvet irene smut #red velvet smut #red velvet irene #bae joohyun #kpop smut #kpop fanfic

[drewsephrry]

guilty as sin?

Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Words: 11.8k

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, oral sex (fem receiving), fingering, alcohol and drug consumption, cuss words, violence (punches mostly), cheating

Inspired by: Guilty as Sin? by Taylor Swift (and most of the songs from The Tortured Poets Department)

loml

party at top's 2nite

be ready by 8

Seen 5:53 pm

You

okay

i love you

Delivered 5:54 pm

You and Y/Bf/N have been together for three years now, but it feels a lot different than how it started.

At first he was really sweet, thoughtful and caring. He brought you flowers for most if not all of your dates. You loved him so much and trusted him with your whole life.

Although everyone around you seemed to have a very different opinion than you.

All the wine moms in their Sunday best would be clutching their pearls, sighing, whispering “What a mess!” whenever you would walk in the Country Club. They would shake their heads saying "God, help her" when you would tell them he's your man.

God save the most judgmental creeps who say they want what's best for you.

You had a lot of arguments with your parents about him and if he was taking care of you. Most of the arguments ending with you screaming “But daddy I love him.”

But lately, he was more distant.

When you went out or he was over at your house, where you spent most of your time together, he would sit on his phone. And you had gotten bored, feeling the need to cry when he left without kissing you or saying ‘I love you’ back.

But you couldn't just throw everything you had built away to the wolves or onto the ocean rocks.

You were in the middle of picking out an outfit for the party, when you heard the notification sound on your phone. You picked it up, expecting your boyfriend had replied but what you saw made you smile wider.

rafey

heard this today and thought of homecoming lol

*The Downtown Lights by The Blue Nile*

Seen 6:17 pm

Rafe had sent you the song that you had danced with him back in the homecoming dance that you hadn't heard in a while. You smiled at the memory and sent him a picture you had in your favorites folder, of you two in front of your staircase. Toothy grins and his tie matching the maroon color of your dress.

You

how could i forget?

*image attached*

Seen 6:18 pm

You and Rafe had been friends for many years, mostly because you and Sarah were best friends since you were both 5. That meant that you both spent a lot of time in each other's houses, going on vacations with your families and having family dinners almost each week.

You couldn't help but take a liking to the older Cameron, because he was always kind and sincere to you, despite what everyone else was saying. He was always there for you when you needed him.

When your homecoming date canceled on you at the last minute, Rafe stepped in without a second thought. Even if he was two years older than you and your friend group. Or when you first got your heart broken, he had gone out to buy you ice cream and stayed with you while you were watching ‘The Notebook’ with Sarah.

“He built her the house, Rafey!”

Or when you were in the Bahamas with the Camerons and your family and your period decided to ruin your vacation, Rafe was the one who went out and got you everything you needed.

“Can you unlock the door for me sweetheart? I got you the stuff.”

And afterwards stayed with you to ensure you were okay and did impressions of his family to make you laugh.

Or last year, when you and your friends had all decided to go to Florida. Everyone was high and they all reeked of weed. While you downed a bottle of wine and had accidentally locked yourself in the bathroom crying, wearing a short black skirt with the lacy details. Rafe was the only one who tried to help you out and when he finally got the door unlocked, he held you and tried to get you to quiet down.

“Shh, I know princess. You'll be alright”.

You were really ashamed to admit that Rafe had crossed your mind once or twice while dating your current boyfriend.

And you were mostly ashamed that he had invaded your mind in your more private moments with Y/Bf/N.

“How does that feel, sweetheart?” Y/Bf/N’s head, between your legs, his chin glistening with your wetness, his fingers inside you searching for that sweet spot that made you see stars. The sweet spot only you had found.

But the way he whispered the nickname that you had only ever heard from Rafe, made you close your eyes and imagine it was him fingering you.

“Ye-yeah, babe. Can you go faster?” You whispered, your eyes still shut and your hips grinding on Y/Bf/N's face. He smirked and dove right back in.

Your mind was still on Rafe though, imagining his long fingers touching that sweet spongy spot, his mouth sucking your clit, while his other hand would grab one of your tits, playing with the nipple.

“Mine.” Rafe whispered, pressing a kiss on your upper thigh while his fingers worked wonders inside you.

And that brought you closer and closer to your release. Moaning loudly, thankful that your parents had gone out.

“Baby, you squirted.” Y/Bf/N whispered, making you open your eyes and staring at him, sighing.

Was it a crime?

rafey

will you go to top's party tn?

Seen 6:21 pm

You

yes

wbu?

Seen 6:23 pm

rafey

see you there princess

Seen 6:24 pm

You giggled and continued roaming your closet to find a dress. You needed to take your mind off of Rafe, quickly and effectively. But all you could actually do is play Taylor Swift loudly on your speaker and get ready for the party.

At 8, your phone rang and you saw your boyfriend's contact.

“Hey, I'm putting on my shoes right now. Do you want to come upstairs?” You put your phone on speaker, while tying your heels.

“I'm leaving my house now. I'll be there in five. Just wait outside for me, okay?” You could hear him, buckling his seatbelt.

“That's alright. I'll see you in a bit. I love you and drive safely!” You smiled, finishing with your right foot.

“Yeah, bye.” He said, hanging up. You sighed, trying not to cry to avoid messing up your makeup.

Why was this so hard? You could do it with a broken heart.

After five minutes, you went outside and he had just parked, looking up from his phone when he heard your front door close. You got in and leaned over the console to give him a kiss on the lips, which he accepted.

“Hi baby. You smell good.” He said, starting the car.

“Thank you. It's the perfume your mom bought me for my birthday. I've put it on before.” You replied, buckling your seatbelt, sighing once again.

When you reached Topper's house, he helped you out of the car and walked with you inside the house, searching for your friend group. You found them in the kitchen, mixing up drinks and talking shit about a pogue that crashed Kelce's car.

All of the boys started hollering when you and your boyfriend, holding hands, entered the kitchen, greeting him with high fives. Topper gave you a side hug and thanked you for coming, to which you just smiled and replied that you wouldn't miss it. You felt Y/Bf/N pulling away from you to talk more with the other boys while you just stood in the middle of the kitchen, playing with the hem of your dress.

“Hey! There's my favorite girl!” A familiar voice was heard and you looked up to find Rafe approaching you. Holding a beer bottle, dressed in a light blue polo that showed every muscle of his.

Crashing into him made you feel like he's a paradox, making you question everything, even your own sanity and morality.

“Hi Rafey!” You smiled and he hugged you tightly when he was finally close. His scent engulfed you in a daydream, as you hugged him back.

“Fuck, are you wearing that perfume your ‘mother-in-law’ got you? Smells really good, sweetheart.” He said, grinning like the devil.

You nodded, surprised and looked around to search for Y/Bf/N, who was now gone.

“Want a drink?” Rafe asked, making you nod once more. “Your usual?” His grin wider as he approached the cooler pulling out a watermelon flavored Whiteclaw. You thanked him when he handed it to you and you grimaced when a shirtless guy with sunglasses entered the kitchen and started yelling.

“Let's go outside. It's quieter. Come on” He said, pulling your free hand to follow him. You looked around once more for Y/Bf/N but nodded to Rafe and let him pull you outside. His tan, veiny hand, way bigger than yours making your mind travel at what his long fingers could do.

Are you bad or mad or wise?

You shook your head from the dirty thoughts fogging up your brain and flushing your cheeks.

“He is there playing beer pong with the guys. Don't worry.” He exclaimed, walking outside and sitting down on a chair, pulling you to sit beside him.

“How have you been? I feel like I haven't seen you in forever!” He asked, sipping his beer. “Why haven't you been to Tannyhill lately? Did you and my sister fight or something?” He continued asking, chuckling with the last question thinking that was impossible.

“I've been good. Just really busy. I was literally there last week.” You replied, taking a sip of your Whiteclaw, the drink refreshening you. You looked to the table, where your boyfriend stood with his friends as they yelled at someone to throw the ball. You rolled your eyes and looked back at the cerulean ones, you couldn't stop thinking about.

Thinking about how he would stare at you while he would lower his mouth where you would need him the most, leaving love bites all over your breasts, your tummy and thighs. Then he would come back and messily kiss you, as he would enter you, swallowing your moans.

“Y/N, did I lose you?” He chuckled, snapping his fingers in front of you as you removed yourself from your trance. You felt your skin heating up, as you looked down and played with the hem of your dress once more.

Without ever touching his skin, how could you be guilty as sin?

“I'm sorry. Just in my head these days.” You apologized.

“Why? What's up? Is something bothering you with mr. Boring guy over there?” He asked, nodding his head towards the guys.

“What? He's not boring. If somebody's boring me, I think it's me.” You said quoting one of your favorite poets.

“Dylan Thomas? Really?” you looked at him, furrowing your eyebrows in confusion.

“Ho-Since when do you know Dylan Thomas?” you asked, never taken Rafe as a guy who reads poetry.

“Do you not remember? Last year? In Florida?” He asked, chuckling, also furrowing his eyebrows in confusion. “I called you a little alcoholic and you said that ‘an alcoholic is someone you don't like who drinks as much as you do’. I asked you where you got that from and you said Dylan Thomas. So afterwards, I found some of his work and I was really enamored. I guess. I-It's lame.” He tried to explain, getting embarrassed and shaking his head.

“It's not.” You whispered, grabbing his hand, smiling. “It's really cool actually.” He shook his head grinning at you.

“So?” After a minute of silent stares, he asked.

“So what?” You asked back. “What's up with you and Y/Bf/N?” He asked again. You sighed, knowing you cannot lie to Rafe but also knowing that you cannot tell him the complete truth, which is you have been falling for him.

“I-we are…No. I can't and I won't lie to you, things have been…I don't know how to explain it. He's just been a little distant lately. And…I don't know if I should even be telling you this.” You tried to explain, chuckling.

“Come on, I've known you since what? Since you were 5?” You nodded. “I don't mind listening to you talking about this or anything. You should know by now that you can always come to me. Always, Y/N.”

“I know. Just feels kinda weird talking to the wrong Cameron.” You took another sip of your drink.

“Do you want me to wear a wig or some shit?” He said getting up, pointing towards the house like he was going to get an actual wig. Maybe he would, if you said yes. You pulled his hand to pull him back down and laughed at him.

“Don't! I just have never talked to you about stuff like that before.” You said, looking back at the beer pong table, noticing that your boyfriend was suddenly gone. You shrugged it off, thinking he went to get a drink.

“You don't have to. But if you ever want someone to talk to, you know where you can find me, sweetheart.” There it was again. You felt like melting on the spot.

“I know and thank you Rafey. I really appreciate it. I just feel-” “There you are! I looked everywhere for you!” Y/Bf/N slurred. You looked up and planted a small smile for him.

“Was here all along.” You said lowly to which Rafe snorted. “Got something to say Rafe?” Y/Bf/N scoffed and sucked his teeth.

Rafe and Y/Bf/N were never big fans of each other. They were forced to hang out because of the rest of their friend group and mostly, because of you even though you didn't want either one of them to feel uncomfortable being around the other.

“Let's just go. I need another drink.” You got up, grabbing Y/Bf/N's hand, before anything could start between the two. Rafe tightened his jaw and rolled his eyes looking away.

“I'll see you around, Rafe.” You greeted him, smiling sadly at him. He nodded, understanding and got up to join the rest of the boys.

The following weekend, Sarah had invited you over for a pool day. You were laying on the daybed, looking at your phone screen, waiting for a notification or a call to go off. You had texted your boyfriend, hours ago, to go to a party later the same day and he hadn't given a single sign of life.

“Y/N, turn it off. It's going to bother you for the rest of the day if you don't.” Sarah stated, coming out of the big mansion holding drinks in each hand. She handed you one, sitting down on the other daybed beside you.

“I'm sorry. You're right. I…it's just that things are weird between us. He's been ghosting me a lot lately and he's really distant. We barely hang out and when we do he's mostly on his phone or playing video games with the guys.” You confessed, sighing. Feeling like a weight has been lifted, finally getting the chance to talk about this with your best friend.

“Have you talked to him about it?” She asked, swirling her straw around her drink.

“No. Whenever I try talking to him about it, something happens. But there's more. Can I confess something to you?” You worriedly ask.

“Dude, did you murder someone?” Sarah jokingly asks, raising her eyebrows. “No! Sar!”

“Not yet!” She adds and you chuckle, shaking your head and then put your drink down.

“I need you to promise me to not say a word about this Sar. It's so embarrassing and wrong on so many levels.” You expressed taking hold of her hands.

“Y/N, you're scaring me. Of course, I promise.” She said, extending her pinky as well, intertwining with yours.

“Okay, so these last few days, maybe even weeks, I have had some thoughts. I have been thinking about someone else while I'm with Y/Bf/N. I-There's this guy that I think I have feelings for but I really shouldn't. I mean, it's wrong. It's so unfair towards Y/Bf/N. Fuck, I'm such a bad girlfriend.” You rambled, holding your head in your hands.

“Okay. Stop. You're not. You're the best girlfriend anyone could have. Y/Bf/N has never treated you properly and I know what I'm going to say is going to hurt, but he's not the one for you. Especially after treating you like this. And having these thoughts doesn’t make you a bad person or a bad girlfriend. I mean there's no such thing as bad thoughts, only actions talk.” Sarah reassured you, pulling your hands away from your face and giving your shoulder a squeeze.

“Okay, now that we got that off your mind. Who is it?” Sarah asked excitedly. You raised your eyebrows, opening your mouth to reply but you couldn't form any words.

“I…it's-”

“Hello, ladies!” Topper appeared just in time, Kelce and Rafe following.

Sarah got up to greet the boys and you stood up, walking towards the older Cameron first.

“Hey Rafey!” You greeted, wrapping your arms around his waist. His large biceps curled around your shoulders, bringing you in a tight embrace.

“Hi sweetheart! You okay?” He whispered and you pulled away from his chest, nodding with a small smile. Then you hugged Topper and Kelce, making small talk with both.

“Hey, wanna help me in the kitchen?” Rafe suggested.

“Yeah, sure.” You nodded, walking inside the house, Rafe following you towards the kitchen. You sat on the counter and saw Rafe grabbing three bottles of beer from the fridge, leaving them on the counter beside you.

“What's up?” He asked, coming to stand between your legs, his two arms caging you. You felt your breath hitching, your whole body warming up and your swimsuit getting damp at the sight of his tan chest and abs.

“What do you mean?” You asked, clearing your throat.

“You don't seem okay. And I'm kind of worried.” He confessed.

“I'm good. Yeah. Thanks for asking.” You looked down at your thighs. “You sure? You can always talk to me. If you want.” He rambled, as you smiled once more and nodded before looking into his eyes, filled with concern and wondering if he had ever thought of you as something more than his sister's best friend.

“Yeah, I know. And thank you, truly. I just am in a weird situation with Y/Bf/N. He hasn't answered any of my texts today and we have barely hung out lately.” You confessed, pouting. Rafe's blood was boiling, seeing how Y/Bf/N had upset you so much.

“I'm sorry sweetheart, it sucks that he treats you like this. You deserve better, you know?” He admitted, reminding you of what his sister told you mere minutes ago. “Yeah, I guess you're right.”

“So what are you going to do?” He asked, only then making you realize how close you are to each other. His chain dangling from his neck, his abs and biceps flexing with each small movement and the black swim shorts clinging on his thighs that you'd want to ride.

“Honestly,” you sighed, “I have no idea. I need some time to think about everything.” You exclaimed, Rafe nodded giving you a compassionate smile.

“Come here.” He pointed to himself as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders, making you wrap your own around his waist.

“I don't like seeing you sad. Especially because of him.” He added, making you chuckle in his chest.

“And you know what they say. Though lovers be lost, love shall not.” He exclaimed, adding another Dylan Thomas quote, this one happening to be one of your favorites too.

You pulled away from his chest and smiled wider, your eyes flickering between his blue ones and his plump lips. He licked his lips out of instinct and leaned in slightly.

“Yo, where are those beers bro?” Kelce entered the kitchen, making you and Rafe immediately pull away. You got off the counter grabbing two of the beers and walked towards Kelce, handing him one, before going outside to give Top his own.

“Fucking cockblock.” Rafe whispered, under his breath.

Some hours later, you were reading a book on the daybed, while the boys and Sarah were playing volleyball in the pool. They all got out and spread out to sit on the other daybeds by the pool to dry.

“You can join me, if you'd like.” You suggested to Rafe seeing he didn't have anywhere to lay down, pulling your sunglasses on your head.

“Do you mind?” He asked, approaching the daybed. “No, not at all!” You exclaimed, shaking your head and making space for him. He laid down, his skin touching you and cooling you down from the North Carolina heat.

In the span of a few minutes, quiet snores were heard as his chest went up and down with each breath he took. You couldn't help but sit and admire him and you reached with your hand to scratch his head.

The feeling of your hand in his hair, awakening him.

“I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up." You apologized profusely. Rafe smiled and laid his head on your chest, wrapping one of his arms around your waist falling back to sleep while you continued the scratching, pulling a strand or two on the back of his head making him sigh in pleasure.

Thinking about how you would pull his hair while he ate you out or when you would make out and he would lower his lips to leave sweet kisses on your neck.

Suddenly you felt consumed by your fatal fantasies, despite knowing they're make-believe but they feel like binding promises with him that needed to stop filling your thoughts.

Looking at his eyelashes fluttering, his cheeks now red from being in the sun for the whole day and the freckles that adorned his shoulders started making you think about who else could satisfy him, if not you?

Who else could hold him like you? Who's gonna know him like you do?

Hours later, after taking a shower and doing your hair and makeup, you were in Sarah's bedroom trying to decide what to wear for the party.

“I still have that green dress you wore to Kiara's birthday last year, you could wear that.” Sarah suggested from her ensuite bathroom, as she applied mascara. You sighed, still roaming her closet for a cute dress. Suddenly, a knock was heard.

“Come in!” Sarah yelled from the bathroom, the door opening revealing a dripping wet Rafe with just a towel around his hips.

“Hey, do you have any idea where my shaving cream is?” Rafe asked, looking around the room for his sister, his eyes landing on you searching around the closet wearing an old shirt of his and shorts that didn't leave much to his imagination.

“Oh, sorry Y/N needed it.” Sarah said, pulling you out of your trance. “What? Oh, yeah. I'm sorry for that!” You apologized, walking to the bathroom to grab it.

“It's no problem.” He thanked you as you handed it to him. “In how long do you reckon you'll be ready?” He asked both of you, since he was the designated driver for the night, staring at you chewing on his gum.

“If Y/N ends up finding an outfit, I think in about 20. Maybe 30.” Sarah replied, coming out of the bathroom.

“You'd look good in anything, Y/L/N.” He winked, walking out of the room, shutting the door. You were left standing with your mouth open.

“Did you find something?” Sarah asked, putting deodorant on.

“I'm gonna do the green again.” You smiled, clearing your throat and walking towards the closet to grab it.

Rafe drove you and Sarah to the house where the party was held. Sarah grabbed your hand and dragged you inside, before you got the chance to thank him.

You reached the kitchen and got drinks, before finding the rest of your friend group. You couldn't help but look around, searching for him.

Your eyes finally reached the ocean blue eyes and you smiled, as he took a sip from his drink nodding slightly at you. You shook your head smiling, feeling your phone vibrating in your bag. You pulled it out and your boyfriend's name popped up.

“Oh, shit.” You whispered. Sarah saw your shocked expression and looked down at your hands holding your phone.

“You're not picking that up. He fucking ghosted you for a whole day!” She exclaimed, taking it from your grasp and throwing it in her own bag. “Let's go dance! Get your mind off him.” She suggested, grabbing your hands and running to the makeshift dance floor in the middle of the living room. The rest of the girls joined you, as well as some tourons who seemed to take a liking to all of you.

Rafe was staring at you, as a guy put his arms around you. You seemed uncomfortable, grimacing and pushing him away as gently as you could. Sarah even tried pulling you closer to her, shaking her head at him. But he was stronger, pulling you even closer than before. He started grinding his hips on your behind and you seemed disgusted and wanted to get out there. Rafe walked through the crowd, pushing some people to get to you faster.

“What's up man?” He asked, putting his arms on this guy’s shoulder pulling him from you.

“Yo, I'm kinda busy dude.” The touron replied, slurring mostly, grabbing your waist to pull you closer again.

“You're not. She's with me.” Rafe was irritated that he couldn't take no for an answer. This time he pushed the guy away from you.

“Yeah, right. Dude go find some other girl to fuck.” The guy exclaimed, coming closer again before Rafe stopped him by grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. “What the fuck dude?”

“You're going to leave her alone and you're going to get the fuck out of here.” Rafe's jaw tightened.

“You cannot tell me what to do.”

Rafe scoffed and looked at you.

“Can you hold my beer, sweetheart? Thanks.” He asked, handing you his bottle. Before you could look up from the bottle in your hand, a loud smack was heard and people hollered.

You looked up and the guy is on the ground, his nose bleeding and Rafe keeps throwing punches at him. Your eyes widened and your mouth dropped, as Sarah pulled you towards her.

“Rafe! Stop!” You yelled, pulling away from Sarah. Rafe, at the sound of your voice, stopped the punches. He got up, spitting on the guy, before walking away.

You looked around, at the crowd of people staring at you expectantly. You opened your mouth to say something but you just sighed and walked to the direction, Rafe had gone.

You were reaching the staircase, when you felt something or rather someone, pulling on your hand. You turned around and Y/Bf/N was there.

“Why the fuck are you ignoring my calls?” He demanded, tightening his grip around your wrist.

“Not right now Y/Bf/N.” You tried to escape his grip but he was stronger than you.

“What the fuck do you mean not right now? You fucking ghosted me!” He exclaimed, pulling you towards him.

“Now you know what that feels like.” You replied, finally escaping his pull on you.

“Y/N! Y/N! Get the fuck back here!” He yelled, but it was no use. You were already up the stairs, searching for Rafe. You entered two bedrooms until you reached the third to find him sitting on the bed holding his head in his hands.

“Rafey?” You whispered, entering the room and closing the door.

“I'm okay, Y/N. Go back downstairs.” He advised, raising his head to look at you. His hair was messed up, probably from his fingers dragging through it.

“How is your hand?” You asked, approaching him and taking a seat beside him. Softly, you grabbed his hand to examine it. His knuckles were bruised and bloody.

You got up and walked in the ensuite, searching for a first aid kit or anything that could help you clean up his hand. You found some gauze and a bottle of rubbing alcohol. You sat back beside him and pulled his hand in your lap as you carefully cleaned his knuckles, grimacing whenever he hissed from the pain and lastly you wrapped his hand in gauze.

“All better now.” You exclaimed, sighing.

“Thanks.” He whispered. “I'm sorry that you had to witness all of that.” He apologized, looking at his now bandaged hand.

“I should be thanking you. That guy was…I-I really appreciate you helping me. I don't know what would have happened if you didn't step up.” You reassured him, grabbing his hand once again. He looked up and stared into your eyes, as you got lost in his gaze.

“My sister is probably searching for you.” He reminded you as he pulled his hand out of your grasp, making you frown slightly.

“Yeah, you're probably right.” You said, playing with the hem of your dress. “Y/Bf/N is here too.” You whispered.

“Wait, really?” You nodded as Rafe sighed.

“Do you want to talk to him?” He asked and you sighed, shaking your head.

“No, not right now. I don't know.” You replied confused. “He had the fucking audacity to grab me and yell at me ‘cause I didn't answer his call a few minutes ago while he hasn't even replied to one of my texts.” You rambled, rolling your eyes.

“He grabbed you?” Rafe asked, his eyebrows furrowing in concern and his jaw tightened.

“Okay, easy tiger. I can handle him.” You chuckled and he did the same. “He'll shit his pants.” He joked and you snorted.

“Yeah, right. Who's afraid of little old me?” You asked, rolling your eyes before turning to look at him again, catching him staring back at you. This time, you were closer than before. His lips mere inches away from yours. Your eyes flickered up and down his face.

“Y/N-” “Can I kiss you?” You blurted out. His eyes looked deeply into yours.

“You're drunk. I-We can't.” He explained. “I never finished my drink.” You said quickly. You felt like your heart was going to explode, your breaths were deep and quick.

“Sweetheart-” Before he could finish his sentence, your lips were on his. You pulled away for a split second, before he put his hands on your face pulling you back into him. Your tongues fighting for dominance inside your mouth, as one of your hands traveled down his chest and the other wrapped around his shoulder and into his hair pulling strands. He groaned into the kiss as he pulled you to straddle his lap, your dress bunching up over your hips, your lacy black underwear appearing, as you messily made out with him. His hands pulled your hips to grind on him, as he groaned.

After a few minutes, you pulled away, seeing his lips glistening with your lip gloss, his hair messy and his cheeks flushed. You felt a poke on your inner thigh and you giggled, playing with the hair on the nape of his neck.

“Sorry for that.” He apologized, chuckling breathlessly. “I just feel so high school every time I look at you.” You giggled and nodded. “The feeling's mutual.”

“I can't believe that this actually happened. Holy shit.” He cursed, falling backwards on the bed, pulling you with him giggling.

“What the fuck am I gonna do?” You whispered, as your lips brushed his jawline. “With you?” You whispered, as you bit the lobe of his ear.

“Y/N…” He shuddered. “I don't want you to think I'm taking advantage of you or anything. I know that things are messy with Y/Bf/N, but I can't handle being a rebound or something for you to make up your mind about him. Cause I'm down bad for you.” You sat up, listening to him.

“Rafe, I can't stop thinking about you. That's mostly the reason I want to break things off with Y/Bf/N.”

“What are you talking about?” He asked, his hands finding home on the curves of your hips.

“My relationship with Y/Bf/N was good at first, but I couldn't help myself but compare him to you at almost everything. Eventually my mind would just fog up and the only thing that was clear was you.” You confessed.

“Since wh-” His phone started ringing, interrupting him. He groaned as he pulled it from his pocket and answered it, after seeing it was his sister.

“She's with me. She's okay. Yeah. Bye.” He hung up quickly. “Y/Bf/N is searching for you. You should head downstairs.” He exclaimed, tightening his jaw once more.

“I don't w-” “We'll talk about this some other time, okay?” He said and you had no other choice but nod your head. You got off of him and walked towards the door, after pulling your dress back down and fixing your lipgloss on the vanity mirror.

“I'll see you around Rafey.” You greeted, as you reached for the door handle.

When you walked downstairs, you found Sarah in the kitchen with Kiara.

“Hey, you okay?” She asked immediately when she saw you approaching, wrapping her arms around you.

“Yeah, I'm alright. I just wanted to check on Rafe.” You nodded in assurance. “Hey, where's Y/Bf/N?” You asked, looking around the kitchen.

“I think he's with Topper.” Kiara replied, pointing towards the living room. You nodded, thanking her and walked there, Sarah and Kiara following not far behind.

You looked around for a few seconds, before your eyes fell on him sitting on the couch, with a blonde touron under his arm talking to Kelce while Topper was making out with a girl on the other side of the couch. Your eyes filled with tears and your jaw tightened.

Even though you were doing far worse things upstairs with Rafe, seeing this was killing you. You cleared your throat and approached them and when Y/Bf/N saw you, he removed his arm from around the touron and got up to greet you.

“Where were you? I was so worried, baby.” He said while you put on one of your fakest smiles and nodded. “I-I was in the bathroom upstairs. I felt kinda sick.” You lied, still smiling.

“Oh no. Let me order an Uber for you.” He said, pulling his phone from his pocket.

“I-What?” You were furious but also really confused. “I'm feeling fine now and I want to stay but would you really just get me a fucking taxi to go home?” You asked, scoffing.

“Don't.” He said in a warning tone, raising his eyebrows. You rolled your eyes and walked towards the girls.

“Let's get the fuck out of here.” Sarah advised, sending Y/Bf/N a death glare.

Sarah wrapped her arms around your waist, pulling you outside towards Kiara's Jeep.

“He's a fucking douchebag. I, seriously, cannot understand what you saw in him!” Kiara exclaimed, as she put the key in the ignition. Sarah smacked her arm from the passenger seat, while you played with the hem of your dress.

“Yeah, neither do I.” You agreed.

The next morning, you woke up from your phone ringing. You groaned as you picked it up before checking on the contact name.

“Hello?” Your voice was still groggy from sleep.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up, baby. I was just wondering if you'd be up for brunch at the Country Club.” Y/Bf/N suggested and you groaned once again before nodding your head even though he couldn't see you.

“Yeah, sure.” You agreed.

“Great, I'll pick you up in an hour. See you then.” He replied, smiling.

“Okay, bye.” You said, hanging up the call before he got the chance to say anything else. You looked over at the alarm clock on your bedside table, seeing as it was 9am. You got up and went into your ensuite to Take a warm shower. When you came out, your phone pinged signifying a new notification.

loml

love you

Seen 9:12 am

You just stared at the text, before leaving Sarah a voice message about what's happening. Then began getting ready, putting on one of your favorite sundresses and a pair of sandals.

When you reached the Country Club, you noticed that he was fidgeting and squirming in his seat.

“Are you okay?” You asked, genuinely concerned.

“Yeah, yeah baby. What do you wanna eat?” He said, picking up the menu, as the waitress approached.

“I'll have the blueberry pancakes.” You ordered smiling.

“I'll…um…I'll have the eggs benedict.” He said, as the waitress thanked and took the menus before she walked away. His eyes captivated on her walk back to the counter, making you roll your eyes.

“I'm sorry about last night. I shouldn't have reacted that way.” He apologized. “I shouldn't have grabbed you like that, I could've handled it better. But Y/N, I feel you slipping away and I cannot lose you. I love you so so much. You're the love of my life.”

“And I know this might sound crazy but I told Lucy I'd kill myself if you ever left. That's how much I've fallen for you” He said, chuckling, recalling a conversation he had with his sister. Gazing at you starry-eyed and you wondered if anything he was saying was true.

Your mind was trying to decide what to do. If you brought up Rafe, he would storm out, creating chaos. And if you broke things off now, he would make a huge scene, embarrassing you and tarnishing your family's name and reputation. Taking everything into consideration, you remembered what your mother always told you growing up. “Everyone deserves a second chance.”

“Last night was…eventful. I am not going to lie to you but I was hurt that you hadn't replied to me for a whole day, I was hurt that I found you with that touron. And after seeing how you've been behaving and-and treating me these last few weeks, I did not think we could recover from it. I thought we were done.” You confessed.

“I love you Y/N. You are the love of my life and I'll love for the rest of it. I'm so sorry I've ever made you feel like this. I truly am. But I am here, from now on. And I-I will change. For you.” He rambled, grabbing your hand from across the table. You smiled and nodded, letting him pull you for a kiss.

During the week, Y/Bf/N, truthfully had been a changed man. He was calling you every day to see what's up, hung out with you a lot more and even slept a few days at yours.

On Wednesday, you would be staying at Sarah's, as planned, but she had taken Wheezie on a shopping spree in the main land.

sarbear

the fucking ferry broke

might be extra late

go at mine

rafe is there

Seen 5:34pm

Your body covered with shivers, by Sarah mentioning her brother. You hadn't gotten the chance to see him after the party the previous week. You were really caught up with hanging out with Y/Bf/N, that you didn't get the chance to talk to him about what went down between you two. Even though your mind kept going back to the night of the party and the way he kissed you and touched your body.

You

hang in there

did you end up buying anything?

Seen 5:37 pm

sarbear

haul l8r

love you

sorry

Seen 5:40 pm

You

stfu

love you too

Seen 5:41 pm

After putting down your phone, you started making your bag for tonight before driving to Tannyhill. You rang the bell of the large mansion, a shirtless, tan adonis opening the door.

“Y/N? Sarah's not here.” He said, looking around the house.

“That's how you greet me? Come on, Cameron!” You smirked and he chuckled.

“Yeah, you're right. I'm sorry, where are my manners?” He asked, sarcastically.

“Sar said I could wait for her here.” You continued. “If that's okay?”

“Of course, yeah. Come in.” He opened the door further for you to enter. He walked to the kitchen, where he had left the fridge door open.

“I came downstairs to grab a bite. Do you want anything? Something to drink?” He suggested closing the fridge door.

“Water's just fine.” You smiled, reaching for the cabinet with the cups, pulling the purple one you've been using since you were 9, when you and Sarah went to Ikea with her parents and got matching ones. You have the other one in your home, for whenever Sarah comes over.

You filled it up and brought it to your lips taking a sip, as Rafe was searching through the pantry for snacks. He came out holding a few bags of candy and a bag of chips. You laughed at the sight and he looked at you confused.

“What? I'm hungry. You know, Rose says I'm still growing.” He muttered in a serious tone, making you cackle.

“I'm playing GTA with the boys upstairs. Wanna join?” He asked, making you notice the headset around his neck. He was already heading towards the staircase, after he grabbed your bag, where you followed like a lost puppy.

You entered his room after him, that was dark with the curtains closed, red colored LED lights lighting it up. The room was cold due to the air-conditioning, so cold that when you went in you started shivering, trying to cover up yourself with your hands. Rafe dropped your bag on his bed and noticed your shivering figure, immediately turning the A/C off, opening the windows.

“Are you just gonna stand there? Come on.” He said, sitting down with his back on the side of his bed, his ankles crossing. You followed him and sat down beside him, grabbing one of the bags of candy when you heard him chuckle.

“What?” You asked, furrowing your brows.

“Nothing. I really wanted those Sour Patch Kids.” He replied, pointing at the bag of candy.

“Oh, I'm sorry. Take it.” You shoved it in his hand. He shook his head and put his headset back on.

“Kelce, you still there?” He asked, as he pressed some buttons on the Playstation controller and you could see a tiny person walk around on the screen.

“Can I play too?” You whispered and Rafe chuckled.

“Yo, Kelce!” He called. “Is Top joining?” He asked.

“Okay, you got about 10 minutes.” He spoke, handing you the controller, removing his headset. “So, what do you wanna do?”

“Can I punch someone? Or, or can I drive?” You asked excitedly and he nodded, showing you what buttons you have to press to steal someone's car and drive it. On your first try, you crashed on a building and started running.

“Okay, let's try again. Triangle to enter. There you go.” He encouraged you, while you threw a grandma out of her car and started driving.

“I'm doing it Rafey!” You exclaimed. “I know, I see that. Come on, press R2.” He advised, smiling at you.

“I did it!” You screamed, jumping on him when you parked the car. “That was so cool!” You whispered in the crook of his neck, as you hugged him. His hands traveled around your back, holding you close to him. When you pulled away, you stared at his blue eyes.

“S-sorry.” You apologized, getting off of his lap and removing your arms from around him.

“That's alright.” He whispered, putting the headset back on and grabbing the controller from your hand.

“Hey Kelce, you there?” He called, as you started biting your lip, chipping the nail polish off of one of your fingers, feeling embarrassed.

“You okay?” He asked, still looking at the screen. “Y/N?” He whispered and you looked at him, thinking that he spoke to one of the boys.

“Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. I just didn't want to make things awkward between us. Again.” You confessed and he nodded.

“You didn't. And I meant to talk to you about last weekend.” He admitted. “I do not regret what happened between us. And I know you probably did and I don't want to hear it. It's going to make things just worse for me. I'm already-” “Rafey.” You interrupted him. He turned to look at you, pausing the game. When you looked at his flushed from the heat cheeks and ocean blue eyes, you could not resist and every ounce of logic flew out the window. You grabbed his face and smashed your lips with his, your tongue entering his mouth as your hands traveled in his hair and chest.

“Y/N-” He pulled away “Touch me, please.” You whispered, begging him as you pulled him back on your lips. His hands faltered, as he brushed them on your back, pulling you on his lap. You both messily made out with each other, as Rafe's hands grazed your breasts and your ass, before hearing Kelce yell from the headset. You pulled away with your eyes wide.

“I have turned off the mic.” He admitted and you nodded, noticing your lipgloss, now transferred on his plump lips bringing you back to the last time you did this with him.

“You have to know I did not.” You confessed, your hand scratching the back of his head.

“Did what?” He asked, confused as Kelce continued talking on the headset.

“I did not regret it. I've wanted you for such a long time. Thought about you for such a long time. And I do want this, all of this…but-” “You're with Y/Bf/N.” He finished your sentence for you and you sighed.

“I tried to finish things off with him‐” “You love him, Y/N, I shouldn't get in the middle of this.” He said, trying to pull you off of him.

“No, no. I don't. I lo-love you.” You confessed, Rafe's eyes widened. “I do. I love you. You don't have to say anything and it may seem like I'm just saying it but I do mean it. I've loved you for such a long time.”

“Do you really mean it?” He whispered and you nodded, before Rafe crashed his lips back on yours.

“I'm so glad you said that.” He started. “Because I do too. I love you, Y/N. For, fuck, 8 years?” He scoffed and you smiled. He crashed his lips on yours again, before taking hold of the back of your thighs and swiftly lifted you in his arms before he laid you down on his bed. He removed his headset, throwing it beside the controller and then hovered over you, starting to kiss you messily once more.

His kisses started traveling down your body, slowly and gently. Your neck, your breasts, your tummy, your upper thighs.

You felt like your body was on fire, as his hands traveled on your torso, over your tank top.

“Can I?” He asked and you nodded, helping him remove it.

“Someone's eager.” He teased with a smirk on his mouth. “Very.” You answered, pulling him back to kiss him and then pushed his hand lower on your body where you needed him the most.

“Are you sure about this?” He asked and you nodded. “I need words, sweetheart.” That's all it took for you to make up your mind.

“Yes, Rafey. I want you. Your fingers, your mouth, anything.” You confessed and Rafe nodded before removing your shorts and panties in one move.

“Fuck.” He whispered. “You're gorgeous.”

Feeling more exposed than ever, you felt the need to close your legs, but he held them open.

“Don't be shy with me.” You nodded and you let him do his work on you. His fingers in delicate moves, traced your thighs and your pussy lips, before pulling them apart. You moaned, feeling his hot breath on you. He smirked, before he dove in with his mouth, licking and sucking your clit and shoving a finger in your hole. His finger entering and easily touching your sweet spot.

“Rafey!” You whimpered. He continued as he stared at your Y/E/C eyes. Moans were spilling out of your mouth as he added another finger, continuing his previous motions.

“Mine.” He whispered, kissing a spot on your upper thigh. You felt your body warming up, you were panting as he made you feel so good.

“Rafe, I-” “Go on, baby.” He encouraged, as in the span of a few seconds you felt the coil inside you snapping, cumming all over his face.

“Fuck.” You whispered, his face covered in your juices. He pulled his fingers out of you and pulled them in your mouth, making you moan once more.

“Than-” “Don't. It was my pleasure.” He exclaimed, coming over and kissing your lips, letting you taste yourself.

“Do you want me to help you?” You suggested, taking a glance at his cock, now hard and begging to get out of the confined space. “You don't have to.” He quickly brushed you off, shaking his head. He got off of you and into his ensuite to grab a towel so he could clean you up.

“Thanks.” You whispered, when he returned to bed. “You can take a shower, if you want.” He suggested, giving you yet another kiss.

“Y/N? Rafe?” Sarah's voice was heard.

“Shit.” You cursed, noticing you were still naked on Rafe's bed. He grabbed your articles of clothing and handed them quickly to you, as you did your fastest to put them on. Just in time, Sarah opened the door, finding you dressed sitting on Rafe's bed and he had fallen on the floor to grab his controller and headset, whilst also trying to cover his erection.

“I am so sorry. This day has been so chaotic. Come on, Wheezie wants to show you her new clothes!” She said, entering further into the room. You got up from your place on the bed, grabbing your bag.

“See you later, Rafe.” You greeted as Sarah pulled you out of the room, he winked at you and you chuckled before closing the door.

You and Sarah were watching 'The Breakfast Club’ in her bed, when Sarah fell asleep on your shoulder, drooling on your sleep shirt. Your phone pinged, from the night table beside you and you grabbed it smiling.

rafey

you asleep?

Seen 11:39 pm

You

not yet

your sister is tho

Seen 11:41 pm

rafey

fuck

i wanted to see you

finish what we started

Seen 11:43 pm

You bit your lip and smirked at his suggestion

You

i wish

btw i am going to talk to Y/Bf/N

break up w him

i don't want to lie to either of you

i want to be with you

if you want as well

i mean

we do not have to rush things

but it's up to you

Seen 11:47 pm

The dots on your screen disappeared, coming back minutes later

rafey

i wanna be w you

i love you Y/N

Seen 11:53 pm

You

i love you

good night

Seen 11:55 pm

“Can you grab me my water bottle?” Sarah said groggily and you smiled, handing her the bottle beside you. She took a few sips, before wrapping her arms around your torso and falling back asleep.

Saturday came around and it was a special one as you had planned a movie night with your best friends in Tannyhill.

Y/Bf/N had begun being distant again. You had called him many times since your last encounter with Rafe, to meet up and talk. But he never answered.

When all of your friends arrived, everyone sat around the living room as you helped Sarah carry the snacks and drinks from the kitchen. When you came out, you saw that there was one spot left besides John B, probably kept for Sarah. You looked around and saw Rafe smirking and nodding in his direction. You followed and stood in front of him.

“We can share.” He whispered, smirking. “If you'd like.” You nodded, seeing him make space on the loveseat. Before you could sit down, he pulled most of your weight to sit on his lap.

“Rafe!” You warned, whispering, pointing with your eyes to all of your friends.

“Don't worry, sweetheart.” He whispered in your ear, before he pulled a blanket over your legs. You made yourself comfortable on his lap, as his hands traveled low from your waist on your thighs, where your breath hitched.

“You're gonna have to be quiet. Can you do that princess?” He whispered in your ear and you nodded.

His fingers stroked your thighs, as you bit your lip trying to contain any sound from coming out.

“Y/N, what do you think we should watch?” Sarah asked, still looking on her phone searching for a movie, John B kissing the side of her head.

“I don't mind.” You whimpered, as Rafe brushed his fingers over your clothed private parts. “I'm okay with everything.”

His hand passed the elastic of your shorts and your panties, cupping your pussy. You shuddered and bit your lips once again, when you felt one of his fingers opening you up.

“You're soaking wet and I have barely touched you.”

“Rafe, it's already hard as it is to stifle my sighs and moans. Don't start with the dirty talk.”

The assault in you continued happening, Rafe pressing a few kisses on the side of your neck too before bringing you to an orgasm. You bit your hand, as you released.

“You okay Y/N/N?” Kiara asked, from the couch. You looked at her and nodded.

“Yeah, I just think I'm having cramps or something. I'll go grab a painkiller.” You said, raising yourself from Rafe's lap, making him adjust in his seat and running to the closest bathroom to clean up and throw some water on your face to cool down. Thankful that no one suspected anything.

It was Thursday when you were talking on the phone Rafe, about your birthday party that was on Saturday when your doorbell rang.

“Hold on, someone's at the door.” You said, walking from the kitchen to the front door, seeing that it's Kiara.

“It's Kie. I'll talk to you later.” You assured him.

“Okay, I love you.” He left a relieved sigh and you smiled, even if he couldn't see you.

“I love you too. Bye.” You hung up, before opening the door. “Hey, Kie. What's up?” You smiled kindly at her, but the look on her face made you wipe it off right away.

“I need to talk to you.” She exclaimed and you opened the door further so she could get in.

“You're scaring me, what's going on?” You asked her, as she sat down on a stool in front of the kitchen island.

“I was going to J’s and when I was going through the Cut, I saw Y/Bf/N's car parked outside of Barry's.” She explained, you furrowed your brows in confusion.

“Barry? The guy who sells weed?” You scoffed.

“Yeah. Well he doesn't sell just weed, you know that right?” She explains but you feel lost. “Coke, Y/N.”

“What?” You were confused. Y/Bf/N has never done anything other than weed.

“He wouldn't-” “ I saw him walking out holding a baggie of a white substance.”

Your face dropped. You couldn't believe your ears.

“What the actual fuck?” You whispered.

“Have you talked with him? I figured he didn't tell you about that.” Kie explained.

“I haven't since last week, no. I have called him multiple times but he has completely ignored me. It's like I don't even exist. And especially after our last talk, all his empty promises about changing. Fuck.” You rambled, Kiara nodding, holding your hand. This conversation making you consider if he was high at the Country Club when he was apologizing or the party where he grabbed you.

“You told him about this Saturday?” She asked and you nodded. “Yeah, last week. I don't know if he still remembers though.”

“Try calling him again and if he doesn't answer, don't bother anymore. We all knew he was an asshole, but treating you like this? And on top of it all, he does drugs? This guy is dangerous, Y/N.”

“Thank you for coming all the way here to tell me Kie, I really appreciate it. And I know. I…I'm kind of trying to break things off. I deserve better.” You whispered the last part, making Kie smile and squeeze your upper arm before she got up and left. You immediately grabbed your phone calling Y/Bf/N three times, with no luck of him answering.

You

you better have a good explanation as to why you don't answer my calls or texts for more than a fucking week

i really need to talk to you

it's important

Sent 12:28 pm

On Saturday morning, you had started prepping the house, cleaning up even if it will get absolutely destroyed later and putting up the decorations Sarah bought from Party City. Your phone pinged, signifying a notification and you pulled it from the back pocket of your shorts.

rafey

good morning

happy birthday sweetheart

i love you

do you want me to come over and help?

Seen 10:23 am

You smiled at his texts, quickly replying before Sarah sees you slacking off. And also because she doesn't know about you and Rafe yet.

You

thank you so much rafey

i love you too

no it's okay

your sister is here to help

gtg

Seen 10:26 am

In the evening, you and Sarah had started getting ready. She had helped you with your hair and you were now doing your makeup when your phone rang.

“Oh, it's my brother. Want me to pick it up?” Sarah asked, as you applied your eyeliner.

“No, just leave it.” You answered before she handed it to you.

“Y/N, I'm not stupid. I've seen you and him all these years. How close you always have been.” She confessed. “And I know that something is going on with you two. And I am happy for you two. Truly.”

“You're not upset?” You asked cautiously, putting down the eyeliner and your phone.

“I am more upset that you didn't tell me anything. Of course I am happy for you two. My brother may be an idiot and sometimes a total asshole, but he never has been to you. I just want what's best for you. For either one of you.” You got up and hugged her tightly, as you thanked her profusely.

“I know it's crazy, but he's the one I want, Sar.” You whispered.

“At least now you don't have to sneak into his room while I'm sleeping.” She joked and you looked at her with widened eyes.

“You knew?” You asked and she nodded.

“I was fucking awake dude. And you didn't do a good job at being quiet.” She continued. “In or out of my bedroom.”

“Sar!” You warned.

“Just make sure that I don't get a niece or nephew anytime soon.” She smirked and you grabbed a pillow from your bed and threw it on her. “Shut up!” You screamed, chuckling.

After an hour of getting ready and pre-gaming with Sarah, the guests started coming. Soon the house was filled with Kooks and Pogues, even some tourons.

You in a short purple sequined dress searched around the house for the one person who you were hoping had already arrived. People stopped you to wish you and give you presents and others invited you for drinks but you refused continuing your search for Rafe.

When you entered the kitchen to grab a drink, you saw many familiar faces approaching you.

“Happy birthday Y/N!” Kelce yelled, lifting you off the ground and spinning you around while you giggled.

“Happy birthday!” Topper approached, after Kelce put you down, to hug you.

“Thank you guys!” You spoke with a wide smile on your face as you looked around the kitchen.

“He's on his way! Sarah asked him to pick up more ice.” Topper pulled you closer and talked into your ear.

“W-who?” You asked, still going on with the act.

“We know, Y/N.” He smirked. “We are really happy for you two. Rafe has always had a crush on you. He was non stop talking or making everything about you. It was fucking time you two got together.”

You chuckled and nodded at Topper.

“Thank you, Top.” You whispered, making Topper wink at you. “Anytime.”

“Hello there, my birthday girl!” You felt strong arms wrapping around your waist, like they always did and his chin on your shoulder. You looked on your side and smiled.

“Hey!” You whispered and he leaned in for a kiss which you accepted. You hummed as he tried to deepen it, but you pulled away.

“I brought ice.” He pulled away to show you the bags of ice and you chuckled, pointing where to put them.

“And I brought you this.” He showed you a small black bag in his other hand. “I know you said that I shouldn't get you anything but I couldn't help myself.” You smiled and pecked his lips once more.

“You really didn't have to. But thank you.” You thanked him as he grabbed one of your hands in his.

“Wanna go somewhere quiet? So you can open it?” He asked and you nodded, pulling him with you towards the staircase. You got upstairs and unlocked your bedroom door, getting inside with your lover. When you closed the door, Rafe pinned you against it smirking.

“Don't get any ideas, Cameron!” You warned and Rafe groaned, before leaning in kissing your lips and then your jawline and neck. You pushed him backwards before things could escalate further and pulled him to sit on the bed beside you.

“It's not a big deal. I just hope you like it.” He handed the black bag to you and you smiled, opening it eagerly. You pulled out a black velvet box and an envelope. You opened the box, revealing a beautiful chain with Rafe's initial in diamonds.

“Rafe!” You whimpered, your eyes gathering tears.

“No crying on your birthday, sweetheart!” He warned, quick to wipe a tear that fell down. “You'll ruin your makeup.” He added, making you nod and try to stop the tears.

“I love it!” You said, genuinely.

You then opened the envelope and smiled at the scrawny handwriting.

Y/N,

Happy Birthday my love. I hope that it's a good one. It's the first of so many we have spent together that I get to call you ‘mine’, in some way. I hope you love the necklace. It's a reminder that I really know you, I don't own you (Yes, I did listen to Taylor Swift). I love you. Forever and Always.

-your Rafey

“Rafe! This is so cute! How can I not cry?” You wondered, hugging him tightly. He rubbed your back to try and calm you down.

“Can you help me put it on?” You asked, pulling away from him as he nodded, grabbing the box and removing the necklace carefully. You moved your hair on one side, as he put it on you and did the clasp in the back. You held the letter on your fingers, before leaning in and kissing him once more.

“It's the best gift anyone has gotten me.” Rafe smiled and got up.

“I'm glad. But now there are so many people down there waiting to celebrate with you and even though I feel honored to be up here, we should get downstairs.” He continued. “And because that dress is really distracting and I won't be able to resist if we stay any longer.” You chuckled and got off your bed, walked out of your room with him and locked the door.

Downstairs the party was going in full swing. Some people were dancing in the living room, others playing beer pong in the dining room and others were just drinking and mingling with everyone.

You were dancing with Rafe in the middle of the living room, all eyes on you two. Your fingers entwined and cheeks pink in the twinkling lights. There in your glittering prime as the lights refracted sequin stars off your silhouette.

“I'm gonna go get a drink. Want anything?” Rafe whispered in your ear and you shook your head.

“No, I'm fine. Thanks.” You replied, shaking your hips from side to side, Rafe squeezing your hip. “I'll be right back.” He pressed a kiss on your temple, before unwrapping his arms from around you and walking towards the kitchen.

On his way back, his sister stopped him, pointing at you.

“She's having the time of her life" She smiled. “Don't fucking ruin it.” Sarah warned before she noticed the one person none of you wanted there, entering the house.

“Shit's about to go down.” She nodded her head towards Y/Bf/N walking in the house with Barry and a girl under his arm. Rafe's eyebrows furrowed and his jaw clenched.

“I'll take care of it.” Rafe exclaimed. “Just get Y/N. Keep her away.” Sarah nodded, already walking in your direction.

“Sar!” You yelled over the music, the drinks making you a little tipsy.

“Hey, Y/N/N. Are you having fun?” Sarah asked, smiling at you.

“So much!” You started. “Where's Rafey? Have you seen him?” You asked excitedly, searching around for him. Sarah pulled you closer and hugged you tightly in her chest, trying to make you avoid any sighting of Y/Bf/N.

“I love you so much!” Sarah exclaimed and you smiled wider, looking up at her. “I love you too, Sarbear. You okay?” You asked, worry filling you.

“Yeah, just fi-” “There's a fight going on outside!” A touron yelled, grabbing everyone's attention, including yours.

“What?” You pulled away from Sarah, shocked.

“It's probably drunk tourons fighting. It's no biggie.” Sarah shrugged and you examined her face carefully.

“What? Oh” You realized. “It's Rafe, isn't it?”

“Y/N/N-” “Don't fucking lie to me, Sar.” You warned and she nodded slowly, before you took off running outside on your porch, as well as you could with your high heels. You pushed people to pass and find him. You needed to find him. You caught a glimpse of the back of his head, before you pushed some others ending up locking eyes with Y/Bf/N.

“There she fucking is!” He yelled, making everyone that had surrounded the two guys, look at you. Rafe turned around and came close to you.

“Go inside, sweetheart.” He advised and you shook your head when his hands touched your shoulders. Sarah came up running behind you, pulling you away.

“No, I'm not going anywhere. This is stupid.” You admitted, stepping up in front of Y/Bf/N. Rafe was close behind you, in case something happened.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, looking at him in disgust.

“Come on, baby. It's your birthday, I couldn't miss it.”

His eyes were bloodshot, white powder still on the bottom of his nose. You scoffed and crossed your arms.

“Like you ever cared.” You started. “You came here to what? Win me back? Tell me that you'll change?”

“Y/N, baby, I love you so much. I'm sorry.”

“You don't get to come here and tell me you feel bad. You have said that I'm the love of your life about a fucking million times and you didn't mean it once! You only wanted to show me off in public, whilst all you did was slide into inboxes and slip through bars. You have fucking hurt me time and time again. And like the fool I am, I fucking believed you.” You rambled, everyone looking at you as Rafe yelled at them to leave.

“Y/N, you don't mean any of that. You love me too. Come on now. Fucking behave.” He exclaimed, approaching you.

“I'd rather burn my whole life down than listen to one more second of all this bitching and moaning of yours.” You scoffed.

“Was any of it true? Did none of our time together mean anything to you? Are you that heartless? Or did you really think I'm that stupid and I'd let you treat me like shit so you could get your dick wet?” You asked, pushing him.

“Stop it.” He whispered, his jaw clenching.

“Here, everyone! The smallest man who ever lived!” You yelled, making a show for everyone.

“Y/N, I said stop it! Fucking bitch.” He scoffed.

“And you know what? You never measured up in any measurе of a man.” You chuckled, as people around you hollered and laughed.

Y/Bf/N furrowed his eyebrows in anger, launching towards you. Right before your eyes, he was suddenly on the ground, with Rafe on top of him pushing him on the grass.

“Still pussy-whipped Cameron? She's too high up her ass to even notice you.” Y/Bf/N said, while struggling to get up with Rafe's weight holding him down. Rafe turned him around and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt.

“I'll give you about 5 seconds to get the fuck away from here. You'll never bother Y/N again. And if I see you around, I won't hesitate to fucking rip you apart.” He spat on his face, before getting off of him. Y/Bf/N got up and raised his middle finger towards you, before walking away.

“Good riddance asshole!” You yelled.

Rafe sighed, wrapping his arms around your shoulder pulling you into a hug.

“Go back inside folks! The party's back on!” Sarah shouted, making everyone run inside the house.

“You okay?” Rafe whispered in your ear, after ensuring no one could bother you two. You nodded.

“Thanks to you.” You confessed. “If you hadn't been here…I don't even want to think about what he could have done.” Your body shook and Rafe hugged you tighter.

“You're okay.” He kissed the temple of your head. “I'm right here. Always will be.”

You turned your head, grabbing his head and pulling him closer to you, attaching your lips to his.

“Now, let's go celebrate me!” You smiled, walking towards your house, making Rafe chuckle.

Scandal does funny things to pride, but brings lovers closer

A/N: i have been working on this since ttpd came out. i tried my best to add as many taylor references and if you're not a fan of her music, i'm sorry lol. hope you liked this, it's finally yours!!! also huge thank you to @rafeandonlyrafe for proofreading and helping me with her support and love!!!!!

#outer banks #rafe cameron #drew starkey #rafe cameron x reader #drew starkey x reader #obx #rafe cameron imagine #rafe outer banks #rafe x reader #rafe imagine #rafe obx #rafe cameron smut #obx rafe cameron #obx3 #obx fic #outer banks imagine #outer banks netflix #outerbanks rafe #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey fanfiction #drew starkey fluff #rafe drabble #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron obx #rafe cameron one shot #rafe cameron outer banks

[lemonlover1110]

Trueform!Sukuna

Warnings: Pure Fluff

*Sukuna being a total girl dad for the daughter he didn't want, that's it. That's the post.

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

Sukuna would’ve never been caught dead like this, but then, he had a daughter. He hates being forced to sit down while his four-year-old daughter is putting his hair into tiny pigtails. All the bows that were made for her are now in his hair, and she keeps adding more. Sukuna wants to leave, mainly because Namie keeps tugging at his hair and he knows he looks ridiculous, but he doesn’t want his princess to throw a major tantrum.

“Are you almost done?” Sukuna asks, clearly desperate to get out of the chair. Unfortunately for him, his daughter doesn’t care. She’s very focused on putting the bows in his pink hair, which obviously match very well since they have the same hair color. He doesn’t want to be mean to her, but Sukuna can’t take it anymore, “Will you hurry up?! I have other shit to do.”

He comes off meaner than expected, and Namie drops the bow in her hand as her bottom lip quivers. At the sight, his heart breaks. He’s raising a spoiled brat, he knows it, but he can’t stand watching her cry. She lets out the first cry, tears streaming down her face– Crocodile tears, but still tears.

“Daddy hates me!” She claims, and she’s about to run away, but Sukuna holds her head. What was that thing you did to comfort her? He takes a moment to think about it, and when he remembers, he picks her up and engulfs her in a hug. 

“Imagine I did this to you.” Sukuna says before giving her a clear example and tugging her head. She whines before crying even louder. That’s not what he meant to do. Sukuna kisses the top of her head a couple of times because that always works for you… It doesn’t do anything. 

He knows he looks ridiculous. Stupid bows in his head of all different colors, a slight tint on his lips and some makeup from earlier on his face, all while he holds a little human and tries to get her to calm down. He does all of this for her and he’s still not even close to being the favorite parent. 

“I love you, princess. You’re everything to me.” Sukuna tries to tell her. How could he not? She’s a mini replica of him. Except, Sukuna doesn’t cry when he doesn’t get what he wants, he takes more extreme measures.

Namie stops the tears when she hears that her dear daddy loves him. She sniffles one last time before gesturing with one of her many hands for Sukuna’s face to come closer, which he doesn’t hesitate to do. Namie smiles before kissing his cheek, which makes the father smile– A smile that quickly goes away, just in case anyone happens to walk by and see.

“I love you too, daddy.” She answers, but that’s not all. Of course it isn’t. Sukuna puts her down on the floor again and she immediately asks, “Can I put more bows in your hair?”

He’s not sure he has space for more, but he doesn’t want his daughter to start crying again. He ends up sighing before answering defeatedly, “Yes. Yes you can.”

#[dad series] #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #anime #jujutsu sukuna #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #sukuna #jjk sukuna #jujutsu kaisen x reader #sukuna ryomen #ryoumen sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna jjk #dad sukuna #sukuna fluff #sukuna x reader

[riksaes]

enhypen where they love to kiss you ₊˚⊹ᡣ𐭩

fluff fluff fluff !! small amount of smut , soft , idol au : clingy bfies

rq for any idols / groups 🙏

a/n am I tired. yes.

m.list

heeseung | 희승

knuckles , cheek , OBVIOUSLY UR LIPS

okay let’s set this straight heeseung gets what he wants and he’s good at it as well. so if you are giving him silent treatment he’ll give you puppy dog eyes for a kiss or not he’ll probably tickle you to the point you stop. i think if you guys are on a date and you’re across from each other he’ll grab your hand, caress it and play with any jewellery and then kiss your knuckles. UGH i love this man he’ll probably stand behind you and hug you then kiss you on the cheek in public and he’s not shy for pda either.

“please baby can i have a kiss :(“ he pouted in front of you literally kneeling on the ground facing you which you’re currently laying on the couch on the side facing him. “no” then rolling to the other side. wondering why this happened? well he ate the last packet of chips when he knew you were on your period. “I’m sorryyyyeeeeyyy that I ate your chips.. I’ll buy you more! if u give me a kiss” he stated still in his position poking different spots on your back to face him and it took a bit of nagging and promises but in the end you rolled back over and gave him the SLOPPIEST kiss on the cheek ever. he literally was jaw dropped why not the lips?? what did he do this time?2! “you missed the spot where you were supposed to kiss” he frowned at you while you were holding in a laugh before kissing his lips and smiling at him. at this point he would of called it, it’s time he’s on the stairs of heaven, he can see the pearly gates. but it’s okay he’s happy he got the kiss and is running out of the house to get your chips.

READ MORE UNDER THE CUT

jay | 제이 forehead, lips, shoulder

jay is a gentleman and is always asking if it’s okay to kiss you LIKE OMG he takes your head in both hands and smooches your lips like there’s no tomorrow. i think he’ll be more respectful towards you and if u don’t feel like having a smooch he’ll just hug you instead. he loves loves LOVES kissing the top of your shoulder and your forehead it’s just easier for him to access sometimes. while you’re asleep and he gets home from practice he’ll basically flop on top of you and kiss everywhere he can be able to make.

the sound of someone opening the door could be heard and then two little bangs of supposedly shoes. little footsteps down the hallway and lights turning off that were previously on for the figure who’s currently walking through the hallway. and that figure was jay.. a sleepy man who just wants to snuggle with HIS girl. he opens the bedroom door only to see you sound asleep with soft breaths escaping your mouth. he smiled softly and quickly gets ready for bed. that was until he flopped on top of you and littered little kisses everywhere. cracking an eye open you were given quite a sight on top of you but all you did was brush his hair out of his face and gave him a little kiss on the cheek before collapsing back to sleep. Jay chuckled at your actions before rolling next to you and hugging you until he fell into a deep sleep.

jake | 심재윤 lips and thigh wink wonk (AN INCH OF SMUT)

jake is the definition of a golden retriever boyfriend like you know how there’s the golden retriever and black cat relationship, well that’s you guys! he definitely uses his pout and sad eyes on you for a kiss that turns out into a makeout and into something else sometimes. being with this man means you’ll probably end up doing it in some awkward space BUT THATS FOR ANOTHER TIME TO GET INTO!! anyways after a long tiring day jake would place his head on your lap and start kissing your thigh because OBVIOUSLY he couldn’t reach your face so he had to improvise. which obviously escalated and yuh

“babbbbyyyyyy”jake yelled from the bed still snuggled in the sheets and comforter until he heard footspets which made him internally smirk at his plan. you stood at the doorway in your dance practice uniform and one shoe on. “what.” you said continuing to put your shoes on while mentally scoffing at jake because of his schedule. “can i have a kiss please :(“ he pretended to be sad while trying not to peak out a smile. you saw right through him and just tsked. you walked to the bed and grabbed his face and smacked your lips on his. he grabbed your hips and semi lifted you on top of him. he kept going with kisses before you pulled away and flicked his forehead. “im going to be late and you know how my manger is when im late” you looked down at him but he was pouting with lip tint stains on his lips. couldn’t help but chuckled and rubbed your fingers in his lips and kissed him once more. “bye baby” you said before running out the door.

sunghoon | 박성훈 lips and hand (a lil spicy NOT really u gotta squint)

he’s a mix of jay and jake. I feel like he would be the polite gentleman boyfriend but behind scenes he’s literally on top of you half the time. he’s the type just to flop around all day with you and kiss you. definitely the boyfriend to be the politest in public but cheeky behind doors. "please one more" like he'll be asking even after saying one more for the tenth time. i feel like being in the idol industry, it'll be hard for him and stressing him heaps but your kisses make him feel loved. i think on the first date (spoiler for next post) when he's either walking you home or dropping you via car he'll walk you to your door and kiss your hand. like every single finger and look at you lovingly like HAJBAHJDBBHJQS.

"please baby one moreeee..?" he whined from the couch where you last were. "hoon i have to get dinner sorted and after that i'll give you as many kisses as you want". getting ready to make dinner a certain figure with lip stain kiss marks on his face groans from the couch and gets up to get you. as soon as he sees you back to him and that was his time to shine. little pecks could felt on your neck and arms slowly making their way up your shirt rubbing your stomach. you could feel the smirk on your neck so to make him stop distracting you from cooking, you twirled around and gave him a MASSIVE smooch. now whos the one who's smirking.. defo not sunghoon now.

sunoo | 선우 cheeks and lips

guys before i even start this man is the most delicate man ever. so this means he'll be delicate with every kiss he gives you. its almost like an angel kissing you but wait he already is one so you're getting angel kisses. he loves to bite your cheeks sometimes but give them kisses. he's the type to squish your cheeks and kiss them heaps like he just loves how soft and squishable they are. but sometimes he just wants to lay on top of you (romantic not sexual) and keep his lips on yours like not even kissing he just wants them to be touching. but normally he'll just love to give you a little peck and then go to your cheeks and kiss them heaps.

"baby why do you have such kissable lips and cheeks?" sunoo questioned laying down on the couch while you sitting on his hips because he asked to help him fix his hair so you sat up from your position (laying on top of him). you were fixing bits of his hair while he was pulling at your cheeks and monologging on how they are so kissable and squishy. chuckling softly because you were already done ages ago with his hair but wanted to see how long it would take for him to realise. which eventually took four minutes and thirty seconds in total, a higher record than last time. hovering over his face with hands right next to his head and leaning done touching his nose with yours. "why do you have such pretty lips to kiss?" you stated while he was instantly fan girling over you. giving him a sweet little kiss before laying back down on his chest, he was happy and will be for the rest of the day.

jungwon | 정원 lips and ear

strawberry with chocolate? jk! kisses! no but jungwon would be so sweet but rough with his kisses just like his english. I bet if your hair was tuck back he would kiss your ears i dunno I just feel like he would be the type to kiss your ear or chomp on your cheeks. but with your lips he loves teasing you at the same time. it’s practically a morning routine, mid day routine and night routine just to tease you or try getting a reaction out of you. definitely wants strawberry and chocolate flavour lip balm on your lips so he can basically eat your lips. sometimes it’s hard for him to kiss you because of being an idol but makes most of his free times with you and your lips.

“mmm baby you taste like strawberry and chocolate” jungwon muttered above you devouring your lips. it’s been a solid ten minutes of jungwon kissing your lips ever since you both got home. it felt ticklish but warm whenever he kissed you and would leave you in a blushing mess. he smiled while looking down at you seeing your red face with the little light adorning your skin and lips. licking his lips which became a habit from jake and coming back down to give you a smooch. “i” one kiss. “love” second kiss. “you” third kiss. “so” fourth kiss. “so” fifth kiss. “much” sixth kiss. before looking back down at you waiting for a response. “i love you too wonnie”.

ni-ki | 니키 lips, fingers and hair

ni-ki being the most cheeky meaning he has a girlfriend who is the cheeky one out of her group. basically you both match energy but behind doors you both are the chilliest and calm people. from making food together to movies to laying on top of each other kissing ROMANTICALLY while it’s WHOLESOME. anyways ni-ki would fiddle with your hands while you lay on him or beside him and bring them up to his mouth and kiss them. sometimes if he’s acting like a little shit he’ll lick them to annoy you. but most times he’s kissing them. he LOVES the height difference so he can kiss the top of your head out of nowhere or kiss your hair. but his most favourite spot is your lips he’ll just love to kiss you and stay there for a long time.

“riki stop licking or sucking on my fingers you’re not a child” not moving your gaze from the screen while he lays behind you with one of your hands. he frowns at your comment before snuggling in behind you still got your hand and watching the movie. now and then he’ll kiss either your hair, neck or you guessed it fingers. he knew the movie was about to end but he started to tickle you to the point you flipped over and tickled him back. you guys didn’t even notice that the movie ended and it popped up with the recommendation trailers running. all that could be heard was laughs and stops. “okay okay you won” you said sighing and panting from the tickles while he smirks “what did i win?” he says looking at you before you smirked. “me”.

taglist [OPEN] add yourself here or comment !

@microwvdstrawb3rri3s @chaconkii

#enhypen x reader #enhypen #x reader #kpop #niki x reader #kpop x reader #lee heeseung x reader #jay x reader #jake sim x reader #sunghoon x reader #sunoo x reader #jungwon x reader

[ashtavula]

Hello hope your doing well. Could I request maybe the housewardens receiving a love letter from the reader accidentally. Like the reader accidentally left it somewhere or sent it to them without realizing it.

I got Lilia's General Vanrouge card, so I'm doing very well right now!

Housewardens accidentally receive your love letter

Riddle:

-He gives you a smile as you leave his dorm after an afternoon study session. You'd desperately needed his help, and he had been more than willing to teach you. As Riddle returns, he notices a piece of paper on the floor where you were sitting. As he moves to pick it up, he spies his name on the page, and he begins to read what you have written.

-Riddle's face turns the loveliest shade of red as the letter states your feelings for him, and his heart races. The letter is unfinished, and it's rather clear that you didn't mean for Riddle to read it, but it's proof that you feel the same way about him. And to Riddle, that's all that matters.

-Once he's done, Riddle picks up his pen, and writes his very own letter to you, inviting you to a private tea party. As the pen flows over the page, Riddle's face flushes again. He plans on reciprocating your feelings over tea, telling you just how much he's grown to care about you. In his mind, he's confident and collected. However, when he actually confesses to you, all you see is a sweet boy with a blushing face and eager eyes as he declares his affections.

Leona:

-You certainly didn't mean to leave that love letter, but you did, and Leona found it. His tail lazily sways as he picks up the paper you dropped on his floor. He was actually going to throw it away, until he saw his name. Seeing it captures his interest, and he begins to read through what you wrote.

-Once he finishes, he flops back down onto his bed, still holding your letter. He loves you too, so a part of him is extremely pleased. However, there's a tiny part of him that wonders if you truly understand what a relationship with him would mean.

-In the end, Leona reaches the conclusion that there's no need to avoid getting into a relationship with you since your feelings are mutual. He saunters towards you, with a lazy grin on his face. He shoves your letter in your face, and he laughs when you realize what it is. Just as you open your mouth to speak, Leona yanks you close and kisses you, silently reciprocating your love.

Azul:

-Azul pushes his glasses up as Floyd careens into his office, with Jade trailing in behind him. Any questions die in his throat as Floyd shoves a piece of paper at him with a sharp grin and an insistence that Azul read the letter immediately. Azul sighs, and begins to read, only to gape like a fish out of water.

-He initially has a hard time believing that you actually wrote those lovely things about him, of all people. Old insecurities bubble up to the surface, and they nearly choke out the warmth of his feelings. But as he pores over the letter again and again, your words start to reach him. Hope begins to blossom, and Azul sucks in a shaky breath as he deliberates over how to respond.

-Despite his nervousness, it doesn't take long for him to invite you to a private dinner at Mostro Lounge. When you arrive, you're greeted by the sight of a candlelit dinner. The table is perfectly arranged with all of your favorites, and Azul is a perfect gentleman. But you can tell he's nervous. He keeps fidgeting, and there's a crease in his brow. As you finish eating, Azul clears his throat, and confesses to you. He tells you about the letter, and softly tells you that he loves you too.

Kalim:

-When Kalim spots a piece of paper fall out of your bag, his immediate thought is to return it to you. However, you're gone by the time he picks it up. And he knows it's wrong to look at people's things without permission, but he's curious. His eyes start to sparkle as he reads, and he has to refrain from cheering out of joy.

-You love him back! Kalim practically swoons as he reads the letter again, a bright smile spreading across his face. Already, visions of a happy future with you are playing in his mind. He picks up his phone to call you, but he stops himself. He wants things to be perfect, and so, he calls Jamil instead.

-Kalim is always throwing parties for one reason or another, so you're not surprised by his seemingly impromptu invitation. You enjoy the party, and you happily accept a ride on Kalim's magic carpet. As the stars twinkle above you, Kalim tells you everything. As the two of you embrace, Kalim's eyes fill with overjoyed tears.

Vil:

-Vil's delicate brows pinch in confusion when he sees a letter on his vanity. The confusion only grows when he sees a note from Rook sitting neatly on top of the letter, proclaiming that he'd "found something rather interesting." Vil sighs, and picks up the letter, only for his lips to part in a silent gasp as he reads.

-This is clearly just a rough draft, with crossed out words and notes in the margins, but your feelings come through loud and clear. With every clumsy phrase and every bit of awkward wording, you tell him that you love him. Vil lets out a delighted sigh as he sets the letter down, gently tucking it away for safekeeping.

-It takes Vil a while to decide on the best method for telling you about his own feelings, ultimately deciding that you deserve nothing less than his best. And so, he pulls out all the stops. Throughout the course of a day, he takes you out shopping, books massages, and takes you to all of the best places on the island. It culminates in a wonderful dinner, where he confesses his true feelings for you.

Idia:

-A ping on his monitor catches Idia's attention, and he clicks on the notification. It's an email from you, and he internally groans a bit. He's really hoping that you're not trying to invite him out to something. However, his grumbles turn into a high pitched shriek as he actually reads what's on his screen.

-The email was clearly sent by accident, as it's an unfinished draft, but Idia's poor heart still leaps into his throat as he reads. You love him? Idia scrambles away, muttering to himself as he runs his hands through his pink hair, trying to process what he just saw. Sure, he loves you too, but he never actually thought that his crush would be reciprocated. After a long while of pacing, Idia decides to respond. Well, he tries to. Seeing your letter again just makes him feel all anxious.

-It took a bit of help from Ortho, but Idia eventually manages to hatch a plan to confess to you. He invites you over to binge watch some anime with him. Idia makes sure to have your favorite snacks, and he sits beside you as the episodes start to play. It turns out to be a romance series about a shy man who keeps trying, and failing, to get his crush to notice his feelings. As the characters confess to each other, Idia clears his throat, and awkwardly compares the two of you to the couple on the screen. Luckily, you get the hint, and Idia gets to experience the same happy ending.

Malleus:

-Malleus didn't mean to pry, but his curiosity was piqued when he spied a folded piece of paper lodged in the branches of a bush outside of Ramshackle. Malleus figures that the wind must have blown it there. A quick glance reveals that it's your handwriting on the page, but he doesn't think much about it until he sees the word, "love." He frowns, and reads the letter from start to finish.

-The letter proclaims your amorous feelings for someone who's name isn't stated. The edges of the paper crinkle in his grip as jealousy begins to burn in heart. However, the flames of envy are quickly snuffed out when he arrives at the final line of the letter, a simple, "I love you, Malleus." Oh. Malleus cradles the letter to his chest, a smile spreading across his face.

-Malleus doesn't hesitate to let you know just how he feels, even though it's late. He teleports into your bedroom, and he leans down to kiss your forehead. As you're roused from your slumber, you find him towering over you with a broad grin and your letter still clutched in his hands. He tells you that he feels the same way, making grand declarations of everlasting love. It would be romantic, if you weren't in your pajamas and it wasn't 2 am.

#riddle rosehearts #riddle x reader #leona kingscholar #leona x reader #azul ashengrotto #azul x reader #kalim al asim #kalim x reader #vil schoenheit #vil x reader #idia shroud #idia x reader #malleus draconia #malleus x reader #twisted wonderland #twst reader insert #twst x reader #twst

[roosterforme]

Covering the Classics Part 10 | Bob Floyd x OC

Summary: Anna knew now. She knew all about Bob's poetry and how he thought about her when she wasn't even with him. Instead of it making her timid, she told him she wanted to go to his bedroom. Instead of taking it slow, he took it all the way.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, adult language, smut, oral, 18+

Length: 3200 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC (this story is part of the Beer Boy/Sugar and Jake/Jessica universe)

Covering the Classics masterlist. Check my masterlist for more!

Having Anna in his house again was an exercise in restraint for Bob. When he thought about tracing her freckles with his gaze, he stopped himself. When he wanted to kiss her neck while she stood in front of him while they built the bookshelf, he made sure he did nothing of the sort. It was time to organize his books now, and he had to keep himself focused. When she started to head upstairs toward the bedrooms, he tried his hardest to block out the idea of guiding her to the left and into his room instead of the spare room on the right.

The sway of her hips in her black leggings was so enticing as she climbed the stairs ahead of him. It was taking too much of his willpower to keep from reaching out to touch her, and that's how he responded poorly when she said, You have to tell me why you like poetry so much."

He barely considered his words before saying, "What's not to like? All of the emotions are there. You're allowed to write about any combination of emotions that you're feeling at any given time. And I think that's pretty cool."

Anna's steps slowed a little. "Write?" she asked, turning to look back at him as he made his way up behind her. "Did you say write?"

Oh. Oh no. Nobody knew he spent his free time tapping away at his keyboard, coming up with ideas and letting his brain run wild. And there was no way he wanted Anna to be the one to find out, especially since he'd taken to writing about her. 

"Uh. I did. Yeah," he admitted, trying to think of a way to change the subject.

But she was way ahead of him. "What's something you've written?"

Bob laughed and recited a random line that was ambiguous enough for his liking. "Just some amateur gibberish like, 'Devotion woven into every breath I take. Love that knows no boundaries, no end.' Nothing amazing."

Anna was nearly to the landing at the top of the stairs when she twisted awkwardly, turning to look back at him with something akin to panic on her face.

"Bob," she croaked, and he rushed toward her as she sat down hard. He reached out gently, trying to figure out if she was hurt.

"Are you okay? Did you twist it?"

"Bob," she gasped, reaching for the front of his undershirt and pulling him closer so he was focused on her pretty face. "You're Sky Writing."

He froze, vaguely terrified by the knowledge that she was calling him by his pen name. But there was also a small part of him that was thrilled that Anna was the one saying it. Somehow it felt right for a second before it felt very, very wrong. Anna knew what he wrote. Anna knew about his romantic desires. Anna knew about his depraved wants.

"Oh, shit," he whispered as her gaze grew even more surprised. 

"It's really you," she moaned softly, licking her lips and tugging him even closer. His knee came down gently on the step as he held onto her ankle, and even though the position had him covering most of her, she must have known she was in charge here. When he nodded, she started to close the distance between their lips as she whispered, "You're incredible."

Bob let his lips slam into hers as she tangled her fingers in his hair. She knew his words, and somehow she was kissing him anyway. In fact, she was wrapping her other ankle his around his waist and pulling him closer. He was certain he'd never kissed anyone on the stairs before. He was certain he'd never had an erection on the stairs before either. 

He was very aware of everything right now. The sound of the rain hitting the roof and the windows. The feel of Anna's fingers tugging on his hair. The vibration of her soft moans as she kissed him. The friction between his sweatpants and her leggings. 

"Anna," he gasped between kisses, but she was back on him immediately. There was no way she couldn't feel him getting hard. His gray boxer briefs could only do so much to conceal how badly he needed her, but every time he tried to ease his hips back away from her, she dug her heel in harder against his lower back.

When she released his lips, her nose glided along his until she was bumping his glasses. Her breath was soft on his face as she said, "Bob, I want you to show me the romance section in your bedroom. Please."

There was no way he could say no to her ever again.

--------------------------

Anna was shocked. Bob was Sky Writing. The poet of her wildest dreams. The man who wrote so beautifully, she could imagine herself being adored. The man who recently wrote about falling in love with a beautiful woman with intoxicating red hair. 

His body was warm and strong over hers, and she wanted him everywhere. Each kiss was more perfect than the last. He told her he kept his romance novels in his bedroom, and she wanted to be treated to the same fate. She wanted to go there. When she told him as much, he started to scoop her up to her feet. In the dim lighting, she could tell his cheeks were flushed pink, and she knew she did that to him.

Bob guided her backwards up to the top step, and she knew he wouldn't let her fall. A few more stumbling steps and they were standing in his bedroom doorway with her hands holding his face and his fingers digging into her hips. "Did you write about me?" she asked softly, afraid he wouldn't be able to hear her over the rain, but too scared to speak any louder. "The new poems about the redhead?"

"I did," he replied without hesitation. 

Two words and Anna's hands were trailing down the back of his neck, pulling him closer until they were kissing again. "I want you," she whimpered against his lips. "I've wanted you for months." She was weak. She was so weak for him and the way he smelled and all of his books. His hands tightened around her hips and slid down a few inches until he was holding her in place and slowly grinding his hard length against her.

"I can't stop thinking about you, Anna," he breathed as she kissed the side of his neck. "Since the first time I saw you in the bookstore."

She moaned and let him lift her up by the backs of her thighs and carry her to his bed with her arms tight around his neck. When he sat down, she was straddling his hips, and his sinful gray sweatpants did nothing to hide him from her at this point. He felt huge as she rubbed herself on his cock through all of their clothing. His big hands were up the back of her shirt, and his fingers felt rough on her skin while she licked and kissed her way to his ear.

"Show me the romance," she whispered with a smile. 

"Oh. Uh..." He shifted like he was going to move toward the books stacked on his dresser where the soft light from a lamp made the room glow warm. "I have-"

"That's not the romance I want right now," she told him, and in an instant, she was laying on her back with her hands on the waistband of his sweatpants. 

"Better?" he asked, running his hands up her sides where her shirt was hiked up, pressing soft kisses to her lips.

"Yes," she promised, spreading her legs wider so he could settle against her core while he pushed her shirt up over her bra. Her nipples were almost painfully hard, and then his fingers found them through the lace. "Bob," she groaned, earning herself his cock pressed to her clit. If he kept it up, she would soak her leggings. His handsome face was hovering above hers, cheeks tinted pink and lips parted, and she arched her back for him when he started to run his fingers to the back of her bra.

It had been so long since anyone touched her intimately, and here she was in a room that smelled delicious like Bob while he deftly unhooked her bra and guided it and her shirt away from her body in one smooth motion. Her body was okay; her boobs were too small, and her belly wasn't flat, but he was looking down at her and taking the time to memorize everything. Then he groaned her name before his lips found the valley between her breasts, and three seconds later she was panting.

She slowly peeled his white undershirt over his head as she could barely focus on anything except his mouth on her nipples. His glasses were crooked on his face when he looked up at her, and he sounded out of breath as she dropped his shirt to the floor. "Anna. What do you want from me?" She answered by rolling her hips up to meet his, and he squeezed his eyes closed as he said, "You want that? Because once I really get going with you, I'm not going to be able to stop."

God, that was the sexiest thing she'd ever heard. She reached down for the front of his pants and tugged at them, letting them slide down his narrow hips. He gasped a few obscenities under his breath, and goosebumps erupted on her skin. Then she slipped her fingers inside his underwear, and she was met with his thick cock.

"Yes, I want that," she promised, looking up at him and his messy hair and perfect face. "I want you."

She yelped as his big hands practically tore her leggings from her body, and then Bob settled in with his broad shoulders propping up her thighs and his mouth ghosting over her pussy. "I want you, too," he whispered before tasting her. One long swipe of his tongue turned into two and then three as she grabbed at his bedding and whined incoherently. "So fucking bad, Anna."

Had anything ever felt this good before? Bob's lips plucked at her clit as he whispered a line from his most recent poem, and she knew she was probably dripping on his bed. His hands were strong on her thighs, keeping her spread open. He buried his face in her pussy, fucking her with his tongue while she rode him. He was Sky Writing. He was Bob Floyd. He was the man her friends knew would be perfect for her from the very beginning. He was making her come.

"Fuck, fuck," she gasped as he sucked a little harder on her sensitive, swollen clit and plunged two fingers inside her. He was a bit rougher than she thought he would be, but somehow this was exactly what she needed. Her tits bounced as he finger fucked her until she got loud, and he circled her with his tongue before swiping it back and forth. He didn't rush it. He drew it slowly from her, just right. And then her orgasm left her with shaking legs and thrusting hips. 

The words that fell from her mouth were unintelligible, but she put them together a little bit better as the buzzing in her ears dulled to soft, muffled whir. "Fuck me, Bob."

When he kissed her, she could taste herself. He kept his mouth on hers while he wrestled himself the rest of the way out of his clothing, and then his fingers were stroking her slit, making her shake more. His wet fingers moved to her thigh where he traced a gentle pattern as he said, "All of these freckles. That's all I can think about. The shapes they make when you connect the pretty, little dots. How I could spell out my name with them."

"Oh my god," she moaned. "Oh!" His heavy cock came to rest on her pussy as he continued stroking her skin, and his lips found their way back along her breasts. 

"I wondered for months if your shirts were hiding more of them from me. Was dying to know if your tits were decorated as well." He ran his tongue in a lazy circle around one nipple as he grunted. "They are everywhere, and I want to taste all of them."

Anna was going to combust as Bob took a fistful of her red hair and slid himself down to her opening. He pushed himself in an inch, and she was already crying out for more. Another inch, and she was forcing her thighs open as far as they would go. He was licking and kissing her shoulders and collar bones while he slowly filled her until she hiccupped with need. He was so big, stretching her as her hands scrambled on his shoulders. And then he was fucking her, muttering like a mad man about freckles and the color red and how much he wanted her. His muscles rippled with intent beneath her fingers while he moved. This was already the best she'd ever had.

---------------------------

As the rain beat a rushed pattern on the bedroom windows, Bob moved at his own pace, needing this to last as long as possible. She was the woman of his dreams, panting and mewling beneath him as he fucked her. He couldn't keep his lips off of that one freckle next to her right nipple, and he didn't want to. Her skin felt like the smoothest silk, and she was beautiful when she was whining his name.

With a fistful of her red hair, he thrust harder, deeper, and his narrow hips pushed into those perfect thighs, already spread wide for him. She was soft everywhere as she took him, and the gentle bounce of her tits was mesmerizing.

Then he felt that first squeeze, and he shivered as Anna's fingers dug into the back of his neck. She looked surprised as he released her nipple in favor of her lips, licking at the pretty freckles on her cheek before he kissed her. He had her bottom lip tucked between his as she clenched his cock again and gasped his name. That's all he wanted to hear for the rest of his life.

"Say it again," he murmured, and when he bottomed out, he was treated to her gasping voice once more. He stroked her temple with his thumb, drawing his name out of her again and again as she looked up at him with wide, brown eyes. She knew exactly who was doing this to her, and Bob wanted to be sure she remembered how it felt when her pussy started to milk him. She had to be close, and he was too as he told her, "Say it one more time."

Her voice was soft and lighter than air. "Bob." Then her head tipped back as he fucked her with a dozen intentional strokes, pressing against her clit until she got loud. She was clenching him harder as her hips came up off of his bed, and she cried out as she clung to him. Her legs were shaking, and her fingers were tugging at his hair, and the next few strokes into her tight pussy were just for him.

"Anna," he gasped as his glasses slid down his nose. He felt the familiar pull at the base of his spine. It was a warning, and he knew it. "Do I need to pull out?" But she was just starting to come down from her second orgasm, and all she seemed to be able to do was look up at him with a dreamy expression that he didn't want to see vanish yet. He kissed her lips gently even as he thrusted deep and whispered, "Baby, do I need to pull out?"

She was shaking her head just slightly from side to side, and he was afraid to take that as the answer he was looking for, but he didn't want to pull out. He wanted to cum inside her. After he asked one more time, she finally whispered, "No." And then it was a done deal. He filled her up, practically shouting her name as she kissed along his jaw and chin, completely sated and soft underneath him. 

Bob smiled at Anna and buried his face against her neck and shoulder, fighting the urge to tell her exactly how much she meant to him. He was still deep inside her as he kissed her ear and whispered her name, and soft laughter bubbled from her lips. His fingers were still tangled in her hair, but his grasp was gentler now. He would get up and make dinner for her, and then maybe she would want to join him in the shower before snuggling in bed. If she wanted to go for round two, he wouldn't say no. Perhaps he could convince her to sleep over and let him drop her off at her place early on Monday morning. They could read some poetry together. Maybe he could even read what he'd written about her on PoetsAmongUs.

Feeling better than he had in months, he started to pull himself free from her inviting body. He let his soft cock slip free, watching as his thick cum dribbled out of her, and he moaned before she sat up slightly. He kissed her knee before he asked, "Want me to make you a grilled cheese sandwich for dinner? I usually burn them, but I'll make sure yours is perfect. And then maybe we can talk about us?" 

He was rubbing his fingers along her ankle where there was a particularly attractive cluster of freckles when she abruptly sat up. Her brown eyes were wild as she repeated, "Us?" Bob was nodding, his smile tentative now, but it faded into nothing as she yanked her ankle away and scrambled off of his bed. "Oh no," she whispered, and he watched in horror as tears filled her eyes as she pulled her clothing back on.

"Anna?" he asked softly, climbing out of bed next to her and reaching for his sweatpants. "What's.... did I do something wrong?"

"No," she sobbed, swiping at her tears while refusing to meet his eyes as she slipped her shirt over her bra and turned toward his bedroom door. "You always do everything right. That's why I couldn't help myself."

Now he found himself chasing her down the stairs. He watched her pick up her phone and shove her feet into her shoes. "I don't understand," he whispered, running his hands through his hair as he stood there and watched her wrench his front door open. 

The sound of the rain got louder as she pushed open the screen door, but he could still clearly hear every word she said to him with pure agony on her face. "I'm so sorry, Bob. I'm married."

And then she was gone, running out into the rainy night while his door swung closed with a loud bang.

-------------------------

He really rocked her world, too. Why is he so hot? Why is she such a mess? I love them so much. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

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[ashwhowrites]

For a request, thinking about reader who is new in town. Meets Eddie then becomes his tutor for a specific subject. Eddie is infatuated and what starts as tutoring lessons turns into movie/pizza nights. He confesses about his crush on them, so does reader but they makes a proposition that they can go on a date if he passes their first exam. Until then, there is yearning, impatience, and SO much teasing but it all pays off when Eddie gets a C+ on the exam. As soon as the bell rings he sprints to reader in excitement and proudly shows off his exam. Reader knew he would pass and brings him a sweet treat they baked themselves and ends up asking him to dinner as a celebration as their date. Not sure of this is any good but it's my current daydream

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it! Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

Tutor Tutor

Y/N hated that she had to be the new kid during her senior year. The pressure to make new friends, join clubs, and do everything to make her college resume stand out. It didn't take long for teachers to realize how smart she was. Her math teacher, Mr. Miller, was impressed by how easy math seemed to be for her. He placed her in his higher class and offered an opportunity to grow her college resume.

And that's how she became a tutor for Eddie. Eddie always struggled with math and if continued to fail the tests, he would fail the class.

Eddie was slightly embarrassed to need a tutor, but if it helped him graduate on time he would do it.

He sat at a table in the library in the back. He drummed his fingers on his textbook as he looked around the room. He had no idea who his tutor was, he didn't recognize the name Mr. Miller gave.

"Are you Eddie?"

Eddie looked to his right to see a girl standing. Books in her arms as she smiled. Eddie was in awe of how gorgeous she was, and he knew he had never seen her before; he would have remembered her face.

"Yeah that's me," Eddie said, he got up and pulled out her seat. She blushed at the gesture and sat down.

Eddie sat next to her and tried to shake away his nerves.

"I'm Y/N, and I'm here to help you! Feel free to ask questions, ask me to stop and explain. We will go at your pace." She explained, Eddie watched her mouth move but he had no idea what she said.

The way the afternoon sun shined through the window and landed on her face. Highlighting her like an angel as she pushed her hair behind her ears.

Since then, Eddie has been smitten with her.

~~~

After a month of tutoring, Eddie and Y/N found themselves hanging out during their study sessions. They still focused on the math, but after about an hour they would get sidetracked. Eddie would order pizza and turn on a movie, claiming he needed a brain break.

It became something they always did, and each movie brought them closer together....on the couch.

Y/N and Eddie grew comfortable with each other and even snuggled sometimes. She'd yawn and lean her head on his shoulder as the final credits played. He'd tease her for being tired but always let her lay there until she was ready to go home.

Eddie started to really like her and it scared him. He focused as hard as he could during their lessons, but the smell of her perfume and her body against his as she leaned over his shoulder to help. She made his head spin.

"So x is?"

"7?"

"Yes!" Y/N cheered as she pressed a kiss against his cheek before she sat back down. She didn't realize what she did, but Eddie did. His cheeks instantly became warm and he still felt the ghost of her lips. He bit his lip as he tried to keep off a cheesy grin.""Yes!" Y/N cheered as she pressed a kiss against his cheek before she sat back down. She didn't realize what she did, but Eddie did. His cheeks instantly became warm and he still felt the ghost of her lips. He bit his lip as he tried to keep off a cheesy grin.

"Can I ask you something?" Eddie asked as he looked up at her. She made a humming sound and gave him all her attention.

"Can I take you out on a date?"

Y/N blushed as she bit back her excitement

Eddie was nervous as he waited for her reply but he could see a smile making its way on her lips.

"How about this? If you pass your next math test, I'll let you take me on a date." She smiled, her hand landing on his.

He smiled as he felt her skin on his.

"I'm passing that test," Eddie promised.

~~~

They had a week before the test, and keeping their feelings out of the way was difficult.

Eddie focused as much as he could on studying, but she enjoyed touching him and making him twitch. She'd rub his shoulders, run her hands down his arms, and draw circles on his hand.

He always teased back. His hand slipped into hers as he walked her to her car. He kissed her goodbye, inches away from her lips. He'd wrap her in his jacket when she shivered.

It was a game for both of them, racing to the finish line. Eddie needed to pass that test.

"Final score is a C-" Y/N said as she passed Eddie back his practice test.

"I passed!" Eddie cheered, and Y/N smiled in return. She wasn't tutoring him to get an A or even a B, just simply above an F.

"Do exactly what you did on Friday, and you'll have yourself a date," Y/N teased as she leaned in. Her lips were inches away from his lips. He felt a whimper in his throat that he refused to let out. He licked his lips and leaned in. He watched her eyes and lips as he went to close the gap between them.

"Nah uh, not until Friday." She whispered as she smirked, her fingers pushed against his lips to push him back in his seat.

She was going to be the death of him.

~~~

Eddie shook the table as he waited for the teacher to pass out the tests. He felt like he knew enough to not fail, and would secure that date. But he was also terrified because if he failed, he failed her.

"Munson, nice job." Mr. Miller said as he handed over the paper. A big C+ written in red ink with a huge circle.

"No fucking way, I did it." Eddie breathed out in disbelief. The bell rang and Eddie yanked his backpack off the chair and ran.

He ran straight to her locker, he didn't care how many people he ran into and all the annoyed comments sent his way. His focus was on her and that was all he cared about.

Y/N was digging inside her locker when Eddie popped up behind her. He grabbed her arm and turned her around, she gasped as he captured her lips in a kiss. A kiss that had been brewing for weeks. She kissed back as she smiled. It was even better than she imagined. He held her waist and controlled every aspect of the kiss.

He pulled away with a huge smile as he showed her the test, she needed a second to snap back into reality.

"I passed!" He cheered, the paper in her face.

"I knew you could do it!" Y/N praised as she pulled him into a tight hug. "I have a gift for you."

"My date?" Eddie asked, but Y/N just laughed and turned around.

She grabbed a container and placed it in his hands.

"Chocolate chip, your favorite." She smiled as Eddie was in awe.

"You made me cookies?" Eddie was shocked, he never had someone do something so sweet for him.

"I'm proud of you. You worked very hard and it paid off."

"I think I might love you," Eddie joked, but a part of it felt like the truth.

"Let's go on that date first, Munson." She laughed, ignoring how the comment made her heart race and her palms sweat.

"M'lady," Eddie said as he offered his arm, Y/N smiled as she hooked her arm with his.

Math might have become Eddie's favorite subject.

Tags!

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger @arlxt

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson request #eddie munson fluff x reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson angst x reader #eddie munson fluff #ashwhowrites

[jokingmisfit]

Read You Like A Book

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Prompt- “You have blood on your face.”

Prompt- “Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?”

Warning-Cunnilingus, I didn't actually finish it cause I gave up.

You lay calmly with black silk hiding your skin. A moment of peace as you wait for your “target”. A fun game you plan on ending tonight. Your lips turn into a content smile at the thought. As much as you enjoyed the fun of flirting you were sure it’ll be just the same if not better when you two actually start dating. And he didn’t seem to take notice of any of your hints so you figured you’d spell it out for him.

The door to the room opens and Jason comes in. A confident stride reduced to a pretend exhaustion. You watch calmly as he lays his duffle bag on a chair in the corner of the room. There's a breath of silence.

“Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?” He asks you with a tired voice; clearly a fake one.

A pretend pout plays on your lips. “Aww, I thought you’d be happy to see me.” You say, pout disappearing and turning into upturned bitten lips.

“As nice as that sounds, Imma a bit tired after dealing with Bruce all day.” He says with a scowl.

“Oh?” You question. “Did Buce beat you up?”

“What?! No, why would you say that?” He asked with panicked frustration.

You raise your eyebrows and move across the bed. Ending at the edge you stand on your knees and use one arm to hold the sheet up while the other ushers the man over. Even now, though it’s not surprising, he looms over you. You look up and try to bite back a laugh as you lay a hand gently on his face.

“You have blood on your face,” You say, swiping it off with your finger. “Red Hood.”

You pull your hand back a bit while he stares at you in disbelief. A laugh comes quietly from you. You tilt your head at Jason with a smile. Suddenly his face goes from surprise to deadpan.

“How long have you known?” He asks in defeat.

“Hmm… About a month. Not to be cliche, Jase, but you’re like an open book, at least to me.” You say smiling at him.

Jason curses as he leans his head down onto your shoulder. As much as he was faking the exhaustion he wasn’t faking the tension. The way he relaxed so suddenly as he sighed was enough evidence of that.

“Sooo,” You begin as you pull his face away. “That blood isn’t yours right? ‘Cause if you’re hurt we definitely can’t do what I planned on doing tonight.” You say gesturing to yourself with a flirtatious smile.

A smirk broke across the man's face, a smile that was purely that of a predator’s.

“Hmm, so that’s what you wanted from me this whole time, huh? Learn my secret just for this?” He teases.

“Oh believe me,” You bit back. “I only wanted to do this after I learned it.”

“You are an evil woman sweetheart.” Jason glares playfully.

“And yet you still think I’m sweet.” You answer back.

Your own playful smile is broken by the man as he grabs your jaw. Pulling you in and sucking the air from your lungs and into his own. A clear line of restraint as he holds you. Restraint you weren’t wanting him to use.

So you dropped the dark fabric. For a moment you can tell he didn’t notice. His mind and body were still too occupied with the kiss. Until he moves his left hand down. Trailing just for a second before he stops dead in his tracks. Where he thought he’d touch soft silk he meets warm soft skin.

He looks back, mind reeling at the sight in front of him. Your body is completely exposed. Sheets loosely fallen now sit at your knees. Everything in almost perfect view. Keyword almost. He has to swallow a breath when he looks at your face. A faux innocence and lust glazed eyes. His will to hold back severed by your simple action. His eyes raked your chest, your stomach, your thighs, everything he could see.

“Oh no…” He whispered out with a laugh. “You- haha… God damn, baby.”

Another breath and you were being moved. Jason slams you into the mattress harshly. His teeth bite at your neck. He sucks on every part of you his mouth can touch. He’s everywhere and so quickly you have no time to keep up with him.

So quickly he is moving down lower and lower. You’re left staring at him as he maneuvers your body like it’s his own. Hands pulling your glossy lips apart and rubbing at what's in between. You can’t stop your breathing from going haywire or the new sounds that slip from your mouth.

Speaking of mouths his is chuckling as he leans his face lower to your hole. A wet tongue escapes his lips. He nips and sucks at your clit. You shiver and shake as warm breath and saliva coat your mound.

“Fuck…” He rasps against you. “You taste so fucking good Angel.”

You moan out a plea. Begging him for something, you aren’t sure what. Jason moves back up your body. Trailing with his lips all the way up. Your impatience gets the better of you and you pull his head up to yours. Heated lips fighting for power you know you won’t get.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd smut #batman #batfam x reader

[pprodsuga]

our last summer | psh

summary: would it be enough if i could never give you peace?

notes: inspired by peace and august by taylor swift and our last summer by ABBA <3 love u forever, my darling sunghoon.

warnings: angst, fluff, nsfw: oral (m + f receiving), unprotected sex, dry humoring, dirty talk, fingering. :)

ahh this was only supposed to be a few thousand words but here we are at 19.4K ...

masterlist + add yourself to my taglist

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･

The end of summer is when you start to feel it. 

The hot sun isn’t as inviting as it once was, with the promise of a limitless summer ahead of you before returning to university in the fall. Now, the sunny days feel bleak and lifeless despite the leftover flowers that have bloomed since spring. 

Sunghoon sleeps peacefully with his chest pressed against your mattress, his shirt long discarded from the night before as the warm sun peeks from the curtain shielding your windows. His lips form a pout with the way his cheek is pressed against the pillow as short warm breaths poke at your skin. 

It feels peaceful like this. You turn to face him and put your fingertips on his back to feel the warmth radiating from his body. The overhead ceiling fan blows cool air against his skin and the juxtaposition feels electric. Your hand moves up and down his body, memorizing every dip and pattern for memory’s keepsake. 

In the quiet of his slumber is when you write your name in invisible ink on the expanse of his skin. 

Your hand moves slowly to write in cursive. Sunghoon squirms beneath your touch, his body reacting to the way your fingers move along his muscular back. You don’t notice when he opens his eyes and watches your quiet behavior, but you hear how his breathing has changed and meet his gaze.

“Good morning,” you say to him without lifting your fingers.

“Morning,” he croaks, voice deep and raspy from a good night’s sleep. 

“Did you sleep well?” 

He nods. “Mhm. You put me to sleep, but it seems like I didn’t do a good job if you’re awake before me.”

“Two times means you did an incredible job, Hoon.” 

Sunghoon grins at you and maneuvers his body on top of yours, bringing his nose to touch yours as he smiles. “Wanna make it a third?” 

Despite two months of bedroom trysts, his stare still makes you shy. 

“But I’m getting hungry,” you deflect, breaking eye contact in an attempt to collect yourself. Sunghoon laughs. 

“So am I, and I know what I want for breakfast.” 

You let him push his head to your bare cunt and watch as he moves the blankets out of the way. It feels like it’s getting warmer in the room but it very well could be because your body ignites into flames when Sunghoon’s hands pry your legs apart to present yourself to him. 

He looks at you like it’s the first time all over again, as if it were that night in June when the two of you found yourselves at the same bonfire party to celebrate the start of the summer season. Everyone who left for university had come home and drank underneath the twinkling stars that painted the night sky in a pattern you’d seen a thousand times. 

Sunghoon could only remember your face when he closed his eyes and guessed correctly that you were the person who sat next to him in your shared literature class before graduating, one he never seemed to pay any attention to. You’d grown out of your introverted shell, unlike when you were back in high school, and asked him what he’d been up to since he left. He told you as if the two of you were friends who hadn’t seen each other in a while. You knew his stories but you listened with careful intent because his glossy eyes and his unwavering attention made you feel important. 

You aren’t sure how the two of you ended up as connected as you are. You’d argue Sunghoon knows your body better than you do and that the past couple of months, littered with secret kisses and his hands around your waist, has been the best summer of your life. 

Even with Sunghoon’s fingers prying your pussy open and with his tongue inside of you, the two weeks you have before returning to university is the only thing you can think about. 

Your thoughts drift in and out between focusing on the pleasure he’s giving you coupled with what will happen when the two of you are forced to participate in everyday student life, away from your hometown to face responsibilities. It’ll be your last year, too, and what of the moment when the two of you cross your tassels over your graduation cap? 

Sunghoon’s fingers take your mind off of that thought for a moment. His fingers slide up and down your wet slit and you push his hair from his forehead to see his eyes stare at the mess like he’s never seen you like this before.  

“Have you finished packing?” he asks before bending down to kiss the soft skin of your inner thigh. “My parents keep texting me to do it.” 

“Halfway done,” you say breathlessly. 

“Me too.” Sunghoon’s hair makes your body lurch forward but he uses his strong arms to hold you in place. “Gonna miss summer break when we go back.” 

You don’t say anything. It’s too much for you to think about, especially when the man between your legs is the most handsome and angelic looking boy you have ever seen in your life. Sunghoon gets so lost in your pleasure that he periodically licks his lips at the sight of your pussy exposed to him, paying attention to nothing but your clit that he loves to call pretty. 

“Your pussy gets so wet every time,” he says as his finger flicks your clit back and forth before his mouth presses a chaste kiss on the bud. “It’s so sexy.” 

“You know how to use your mouth well,” you praise. Sunghoon grins at your words and hums when your fingers scratch his head as his tongue dives back into your core. 

He’s slow with it, unlike the night prior when he had asked to come over with a tent already visible in his pants. Sunghoon takes his time dragging his tongue all over you as if he’s trying to commit the way you taste to memory. His tongue works expertly to reach where your own fingers can’t and you can hear him chuckle from below you when your back arches from a particular sensation. 

Sunghoon’s hands support you, sliding from your thighs to grip your hips as you push your pussy into his face. You feel him hum against you as you press yourself into him and if there’s one thing you can infer from your bedroom holidays, it’s that your pleasure brings Sunghoon his. 

You come undone a few minutes later as he coaxes you through it, gently licking you clean until your release has been swallowed by him. Sunghoon peppers small kisses along your thighs as a silent praise for a job well done for letting him take you the way he wants, his hands smoothing over your body to grip your breasts before moving his way on top of you. 

The kiss is slow like two lovers on borrowed time. Sunghoon’s body slips between your legs as your hands come to cup his jawline with your own hands, pushing your lips against his swollen ones. He kisses you like time does not exist and the world outside remains still despite hearing the sounds of birds chirping from just outside of your window. 

Sunghoon gasps into the kiss when your hips meet his, forcing his cock to situate itself between your bodies. He’s hard from a mixture of tasting you in his mouth and humping the bed when he heard your breaths become shallow before eventually releasing all you had to offer. You push yourself against him until you elicit a deep moan from the back of his throat. 

“Thought you were hungry,” he whispers against your ear, kissing the skin below it as his hips move until his cock is sliding between your folds. 

“Breakfast can wait.” Your hands smooth themselves over his toned body and arms, squeezing his biceps as he raises his chest to see where you two meet. 

“Is my pretty girl worked up?” Sunghoon teases with a breathy tone. His hardness matches your arousal and the erotic sound of wetness splashing has him pushing the tip of his cock against your clit. 

“Just a little bit,” you say coyly. “I wanna feel you.” 

Sunghoon sinks himself into you without a second thought.

“I want to feel you too.”

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

You avoid talking to Sunghoon about the upcoming fall semester. You’re not sure if he can tell that your mind has been preoccupied with the future because he seems so content in the present, spending his free time with you when he isn’t with his other friends and family. 

It’s almost unfair how handsome he looks when the sun kisses his skin. Its golden hues emphasize his sharp jaw and brown eyes that resemble comfort underneath the warm light. 

The way he looks reminds you of when you’d use to see him around school before moving away to college. Sunghoon was always revered by his classmates for his astonishingly good looks with his hair always falling into place like dominoes. 

He was a household name for more reasons than one. Sunghoon’s figure skating career was at an all time high during his third year of high school, often having missed classes for competitions. He was all the girls could talk about in between classes and it was like the community around you built an invisible shrine to illustrate how worthy everyone thought him to be. 

You were never friends with him as his popularity was a bit too out of reach for you, back when everybody cared about the superficial. But Sunghoon lived towards the end of the block where you’d see him leave for practice or come home late through your bedroom window since you were a kid. Your classmates were right to praise him for his tenacity and resilience, although you had a sneaking suspicion that they did so because he was incredibly good looking with rumors of having a very successful figure skating career in a few year’s time. 

You didn’t see it that way. The two of you were not friendly by any means, but you could see the weight of the world on his shoulders when he’d come home after a long day at the ice rink. You could hear fragments of conversations, namely how hard it was to balance schoolwork, college applications, and a career he wasn’t sure he was ready to commit to. 

University was right around the corner and he itched to experience life that didn’t surround figure skating. It always felt like silent, one-sided support on your end as you’d hear Sunghoon talk to his parents on his way inside of the house. It felt like you were getting to know the person he was when he wasn’t smiling for the camera or for people who liked him for the attention. Still, you’re sure Sunghoon had no idea who you were until just before the summer of your last year of college. 

The news that he would retire from professional skating rocked the community but people were supportive of his decision to pursue a degree. He left the small town behind to pursue a life in Seoul, not for his ice skating career, but to get a taste of what his life could look like.

Then, he met you. 

You’re still somewhat astonished that he knew who you were, given that you hadn’t spoken much in the years you lived in his neighborhood. Sunghoon made an effort to wave at you in passing and talk to you, going so far as to introduce you to his friends when he had spotted you sitting by yourself in the cafeteria. Heeseung, Jay, and Jake were smitten by your humble nature and were too eager to listen to stories about their best friend in a time where they did not know him. Thinking about that period of your life makes your stomach turn. 

Sunghoon kisses your cheek when you both exit your house. His car is parked out front and he opens the door for you before getting inside himself. The weekend is unpromising, as most are, and you find yourself wondering what Sunghoon has planned for the day. 

“I see the gears turning in that pretty little head of yours,” Sunghoon comments as he drives out of your street. He puts his hand on your thigh and caresses you with his thumb. “Are you doing okay?”

“Yes,” you lie. “I think I’m still waking up.” 

Sunghoon laughs. “Even after I’ve been inside of you?” He watches you blush from the corner of his eye, squeezing your thigh when he hears you stutter over your words. 

“Yes,” you mumble. “Even after all of that.” 

“Good think I’m planning on getting coffee,” he tells you, diverting his attention back to the road. “I could use a pick me up.” 

Sunghoon pays for your beverages and encourages you to pick out a pastry despite having had a small breakfast at his place. He tells you to stand away from the crowd gathering around the hand off station. Watching him with his back turned to you, patiently waiting for his order, feels extremely familiar because of how frequent Sunghoon has taken you out this summer. You don’t think you’ve ever spent time with him like this before the two of you left to go back home for the break.

“For you,” Sunghoon says, pulling you out of your thoughts. You drink the ice cold liquid and feel the unnerving thoughts wash out of you with the first sip, willing yourself to be present. 

“Thanks, Hoon. Got anything else planned for today?”

He bites into a croissant. “The rink I used to skate at has a half price day today. I was thinking we could spend the next hour or two there.”

“Why, so you could show off in front of me?” Sunghoon knocks your knee with his when he sees your lip quirk upwards. 

“I know you’re curious.” You can’t fault him there. 

“Mm, that I am. I can’t say I’m at your level but I can stand on my own two feet without needing to hold onto the rail.” 

“I’m rusty,” he says. “I haven’t been on the ice in forever.”

“I’m sure you’ll be just fine.” 

“Besides,” Sunghoon says after taking another bite, “I want to see you stumble around like a penguin.” 

“I told you, I’m decent,” you huff. “I used to go to the rink with my cousin when we were kids and I used to see you warming up.”

“Oh, you did?” 

“Only sometimes. We usually went on the weekends in the morning to avoid the crowd.” 

Sunghoon nods. “Yeah, that sounds about right. In the first few years of training, I’d have to be at the rink when people were waking up. I wish I could’ve seen you there.”

“It’s okay,” you tell him. “We weren’t really friends until this year.”

“Still, it would’ve been nice to have seen you.” 

Sunghoon’s words make your heart lurch. You can’t stop yourself from thinking about it.

“We didn’t run in the same circles back in high school, did we?” you ask him to quell his dampened expression, knocking Sunghoon’s knee like he did with you. “You were definitely more popular between us two.” 

“Popular is definitely a word,” he says, biting the end of his straw. “I think people liked that I was on national TV. I couldn’t go a day without people saying something about it.”

“You worked hard to get there. I understand why you were the talk of the town.” 

He shrugs. “I guess so. It was hard to balance school and my career. I felt like a walking zombie every time I’d show up to class.” 

“From where I stood, I can definitely say that look worked for you.” 

Sunghoon raised his eyebrow at you. “Oh? And were you looking?”

You roll your eyes. “These are things I’ve heard other people say.”

“Right, right,” he says with a mischievous grin like he doesn’t believe you. 

“Whatever,” you mumble, praying that your cheeks would cool down. “God, I don’t think I went an hour without hearing someone talk about you.”

“Yeah. I remember a bunch of people I didn’t know coming up to me like we’d been friends since birth.” 

“That had to feel weird.” 

“It was weird. Definitely weird. I’d eat lunch and some kid would ask me how practice was going.”

“Then what?” you ask.

“I’d tell them my practice schedule and say I’m hoping for good scores for my next competition.” 

“You definitely could’ve been an idol in another life,” you tease. “You were so good at giving vague answers that satisfied people.” 

Sunghoon shrugs. “Nah, not for me. You know, I don’t think I had any real friends, though. Just people who thought my career path was cool.” 

It hurts to hear it when you recall the nights seeing Sunghoon come home past his bedtime and then in class the next morning. He always looked just shy of collapsing, but that attitude was what the girls were into back then. For you, however, it seemed almost worrisome.

“I’m sorry,” you say earnestly. “I don’t know if you remember, but sometimes I’d hang out on my balcony and watch the neighborhood. Most nights I saw you come home late from practice and I always wondered how you did all of it without breaking a sweat. Even when we had literature together, I wished we were close enough so that I could’ve asked you if you were okay without sounding like a deranged fangirl.” 

You try not to wince with embarrassment at your long confession. Sunghoon looks at you with an expression you can’t read, blinking at you as if he’s thinking about what to say next. He remains silent. 

“Well, I think we should head over.” You abruptly stand and throw your empty pastry bag into the trash can next to you and try to keep a loose grip on your cup despite your chest caving. “I want to be impressed by your fancy moves.” 

“I can do that,” he tells you, coming out of his daze when he registers that you’ve moved spots. You push the uneasy feeling out of your mind, pretending you didn’t make things awkward between the two of you. 

“If you fall in your face, I’ll deduct a point.”

Sunghoon laughs. “I’ll be sure not to fall. I think my time training has prepared me for this.” 

You don’t say another word as Sunghoon throws his trash away. You want to hang your head in shame and ask Sunghoon to drive you home so that you can wallow in your misery, alone in your bedroom. But he jogs ahead of you to open the door, allowing you to step out before him. You thank him with a meek voice and swallow when you notice your throat has run dry. 

When you approach the passenger side of his car, Sunghoon opens the door for you. You’re about to step inside when he pulls you into him. You feel his other hand on your waist when he pushes his lips against your own. 

His mouth tastes like coffee and the cold sensation of the ice from the drink makes your body shiver. Sunghoon tilts his head and angles himself to push harder against you, squeezing your body with his fingertips before pulling away to see the dazed look in your eyes. Sunghoon chuckles when you look at him, using his thumb to wipe the spit that has collected on your bottom lip. 

“I always saw you on your balcony,” Sunghoon says before leaning in to steal another kiss. He opens his eyes only after he’s pulled away once again, and you see the way he struggles to keep himself composed. “I would never think you’re a deranged fangirl, by the way.” 

You struggle to find the words to speak. He grins at you like he’s proud to have caught you off guard, opening the door wider while pressing a quick kiss to your cheek before encouraging you inside the vehicle. He closes the door and you sit with your mouth slightly ajar when he turns on the engine. 

Sunghoon breathes a laugh and places his hand on your thigh before heading to the ice rink, leaving you astounded and wondering if you were dreaming.

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

It’s the last Wednesday before the two of you go back to university. 

You’re both arriving separately with your parents and belongings in tow, respectively. It’s been convenient that your family has been on a summer vacation of their own, leaving just after you and Sunghoon had started fooling around, and arriving within two days to drive with you back to school. His parents have been running all over Korea to support his younger sister’s traveling performances in dance. He’s attended a few of her competitions around the country a few times, and even invited you to see one or them with him when she was back in town. 

Otherwise, the two of you spend every waking moment together. The only time you’d spend apart is when he’d leave to watch his sister dance or when you had your shifts at a family-friend’s dumpling shop. Even when you’d see a few friends from back home, it seemed to end with Sunghoon in your bed more often than not.  

Dusk has settled on the tail end and the sun is almost disappearing. A wave of anxiety washes over you when Sunghoon suggests that you stay at his house longer after having spent the day using his pool. You brought a change of clothes and Sunghoon offered the shower to you. When you say yes, he tells you to go first. 

This isn’t your first time using his bathroom by any means, but it’s your first time being completely naked without the pretext of having sex. Suddenly, you smell like Sunghoon because of his shampoo and body wash. You smell of sandalwood and cinnamon, the kind that reminds you of when your face is pressed close to his. 

The intensity of your feelings becomes apparent when you dry your hair to the best of your ability with the towel he gave you. You put your clothes on and wring out any water from your bathing suit before looking at yourself in the mirror. 

You’ve never spent time in his home like this. You know his bedroom well enough, but it’s usually your house that the two of you hang out in. Sunghoon is the one who comes over, unannounced or not, and he’s the one who brings a change of clothes over just in case the two of you grow tired from talking or otherwise. 

It feels strangely comfortable to be alone in his bedroom’s bathroom unsupervised. But it’s a feeling you wish would go away because neither you nor Sunghoon have talked about what will happen when you return to university. Instead, you suck in a breath and force yourself outside. 

“Took you long enough,” Sunghoon teases when you emerge from his room and into the kitchen. He has a cherry popsicle in his hand to combat the hot weather that has made his mouth look red. 

“You told me to take my time, so that’s what I did,” you retort as you walk closer. You stand before him and he looks at you with a mischievous grin before your eyes dart to the popsicle in his hand. 

“You want one?” he asks.

“Yes, please.” 

“Open wide.” 

You barely register his command when he gently pushes the cool popsicle to your lips, beckoning you to open your mouth. The ice melts against you when it enters inside and your mouth closes against the popsicle when you feel the melted juices begin to run down your chin. 

“That’s a good girl,” he whispers lowly, eyes focused on your mouth and the way your cheeks hollow. “Tastes good, yeah?” 

“Mhm,” you mutter with it in your mouth. 

Sunghoon pulls the stick from you and continues looking at your red lips and tongue like he’s mesmerized. He looks at you after you’ve bitten your bottom lip and puts the stick in your hand. 

“I’m going to shower,” he says. “You can have the rest.” 

Sunghoon walks away without so much as another word, leaving you equally breathless and turned on. Did Sunghoon mean to leave you like this? He loves to tease you and will always finish his remarks with a kiss to your lips or forehead. But this time, he left without that familiar kiss and it looked like Sunghoon was rushing to the bathroom. 

With a slight boost in your ego, you put the popsicle back into your mouth and suck on it until all that remains is the stick and the taste of wood. 

Sunghoon isn’t in the shower for long. You don’t know what washes over you when you enter his bedroom after hearing the water turn off. When he exits his bathroom, his hair is still damp and his skin glistens from the water. His towel hangs low on his hips and you can see every ridge, curve, and divet on his body. It makes your mouth water and you’re stunned when he meets your eyes. 

“It’s a good flavor, right?” Sunghoon asks after a moment of quiet. 

“What?” 

“The popsicle,” he says with a tick in his voice. “It was good, wasn’t it?” You look at him when he takes a step forward. 

“The best,” you barely manage to say.

You swallow when his steps reach just an inch from where you are. Sunghoon looks at you through his eyelashes and waits for you to say something with the side of his face quirks in amusement. His dimple peeks out and the canines of his teeth that you’ve become fully obsessed with are on full display. 

Sunghoon leans forward until his lips barely touch yours, eyes flickering down to stare at your mouth. That sensation has you gasping against him, the warm air making him chuckle just enough for him to poke his tongue out and gently lick over your bottom lip. 

“Mm,” Sunghoon hums. “You taste like cherry.” 

He pulls you by your waist and pushes you flush against his body. His strong arms keep you caged into him while your own flail at the sudden movement. You settle by putting your palms against his shoulders and holding on like you’re afraid you’ll fall if you don’t find your balance. Sunghoon pulls you closer to his mouth and makes you stand on your toes just to keep up with him as his mouth invades your personal space.

The kiss is warm and audible. His tongue pushes against yours and his teeth are nearly knocking into yours as you gain your momentum and recover from the shock of his actions. You grow wetter when you realize Sunghoon’s still damp from his shower, the droplets of water from his hair falling onto your arms like they’re meant to keep you aware of what’s happening. 

Without detaching himself from you, Sunghoon sits on the bed with his towel still on and pulls your body so that you’re sitting on his lap. His arms are securely behind you and your back arches when he caresses your spine. 

You suck on his tongue as he kneads the flesh of your ass, gently encouraging you to rock yourself on his body. The two of you moan into each other’s mouths breathlessly when you part for a few seconds of fresh air. Your hands grab his neck as you hold him in place like you’re afraid he’ll vanish if you don’t hold onto him tight enough.  

He grows hard underneath you in record speed as you keep rising from his lap to kiss him deeper, followed by pushing yourself onto him to relieve friction. Sunghoon grunts against you and slaps your left ass cheek in retaliation when you put more pressure on his throbbing cock. 

It’s then when you open your eyes and pull back. Sunghoon keeps his eyes closed momentarily, too lost in the high of his euphoria until he realizes your mouth isn’t on his anymore. His eyelashes make him look celestial, the mole on his cheek too tempting for you not to kiss. But you refrain, holding yourself steady as you try to keep your composure. 

“It’s late,” you whisper. 

“And?” he asks, catching his breath. 

“We have to finish packing,” you reason, although you don’t think you believe in yourself when you say it.

“You have all weekend,” he pleads. Sunghoon holds you with one arm and brushes your hair from your face with his free hand. “What’s going on in that head of yours, baby?”

You bite your lip as he stares at you and it’s jarring to see his careful eyes look at you while he remains exceptionally hard beneath you. Sunghoon squeezes his hand on your waist as gentle encouragement and you watch him tilt his head like he’s listening. 

“I…,” you falter. Sunghoon’s stare is too intense. You look beside him and focus on the blankets that cover his mattress. “We go back to school soon, Hoon. I guess I’m just nervous about what’s gonna happen.” 

“What do you mean by that?”

You bite your lip. “Dunno. I think I’m just nervous for the future. One last year and everything is uncertain.” 

Sunghoon can sense that you’re not telling him the whole truth but he doesn’t pry you to say anything else. He has his own fears about his future as well, and the relationship he’s built with you over the summer has done wonders to quell his worries. But that too is coming to an end. His half-packed belongings sit in another room for him to worry about at a later time.

You feel his lips make contact with your own, this time kissing you with less fervor than before. The kiss feels like a silent reassurance that everything will be okay. Sunghoon lingers for a few seconds before pulling back, just to push himself forward to press more kisses onto your lips until you’ve melted against him. 

“I just want you to be okay,” Sunghoon mumbles between kisses. 

“It’s late,” you say again, hands bracing his chest.

“You could always stay here for the night,” he says. 

“I wouldn’t want to bother you.” Sunghoon places both of his hands on your waist and gives you a squeeze, looking into your eyes. 

“I want you to stay,” he tells you. “Please stay the night.” 

You deliberate for a moment only to nod and relent. Sunghoon grins, pressing forward to kiss you again. He tastes so fresh after his shower, lips supple and plump as the heat from the water still radiates from his skin. You try not to think about his sculpted chest and toned arms but that does nothing for you when you feel Sunghoon’s lips on your neck. 

He chuckles when he hears you gasp. It drives him to put small kisses all over the expanse of your neck, alternating between kissing you and leaving small kitten licks across your skin. The wetness of his saliva makes your arousal pool in your panties and his hair, still wet from his shower, caresses your skin too. 

Sunghoon grunts against your jawline when you push your body against his, feeling his hard outline against your core. Sunghoon bucks his hips when he feels you and curses when you push him off of your neck to sink to your knees.

“Fuck, baby,” he says. Sunghoon watches as you undo the towel and push the fabric aside until his cock becomes accessible to you, spreading his legs so you can situate yourself between them.

The gasp Sunghoon emits when you lick him from his balls to his tip is enchanting. He looks down at you like it’s the first time he’s seeing you be like this for him, especially when you steady your hands on his thighs and kiss the soft skin there. 

You envelop the tip in your mouth and let your tongue dance on the slit a few times before swirling your wet muscle around him. Sunghoon lets out a low groan when your nails caress his thighs too, cock twitching in your mouth and prompting you to take another inch. 

He’s rock hard in record time. Sunghoon doesn’t care about that right now, not when you’ve decided to push your head down and engulf half of him with your tongue running over his veins and his sensitive points. 

“You’re so good at this,” he praises. Sunghoon’s palms lay flat on the mattress as his eyes lazily see you through his pleasured expression. “Can you make it messy for me? I wanna see how messy you can be.”

You look up at Sunghoon, who has his bottom lip between his teeth. He looks like an Adonis type with his perfect body and hair falling over his eyes. You do as he says, pulling yourself off of him to gather saliva before letting your spit fall on his cock. He moans when he feels it dripping down him and at the sight of it falling from your mouth. Sunghoon is pleased when you push your head down until he feels the back of your throat, even more so when he feels spit gathering at the base and sliding down to his balls. 

You pull yourself off of him just to repeat the process over and over again until Sunghoon is a loud, unholy mess above you. He nearly orgasms when he feels your hands massage his balls but tries to prolong his pleasure. 

“You’re so nasty,” he whispers like he’s in disbelief. The sounds of your throat gagging around his cock turn him on and he grips the bed sheets below when you look up at him with him inside your mouth. Your head moves in quick succession to amplify the noise, letting yourself become lost in the feeling of pleasuring Sunghoon. 

“Ah, fuck,” he cursed when your tongue works his underside. “I’m gonna cum.” 

It doesn’t take him long to finish soon after that. He gives you enough warning time to pull your head away but stares down at you with an open jaw when you grip his base and keep his cock situated in your mouth as he comes. 

He watches you close your eyes the moment his come seeps into your tongue and the way you hum around him as you clean him up. Sunghoon’s hips buckle and he does his best to keep his body upright to watch you lick his orgasm. Your mouth constructs around his cock and you continue to glide your tongue over him until there’s no evidence of his come left. 

“You’re perfect.” Sunghoon praises you as he helps you stand from your spot on the floor, turning you around to pull your shorts and panties off while you take off your top and fling it haphazardly. 

Sunghoon spreads your ass in front of him, staring at your body in wonder. Your wetness becomes apparent to him when the light glistens against it and you hear him curse, prompting you to look back at him. You feel Sunghoon gather your arousal on his hand before grabbing cock and pleasuring himself with all you have to offer him. Your eyes nearly roll to the back of your head.  

“I’ll eat you out in a second,” he swears to you as he meets your eye. “Please let me put it in for a little bit. I need to feel your pussy around me.” 

You maneuver to sit back on his lap as he holds you in place with one arm, gripping his still-hardened cock to align with your entrance with his other. The tip grazes your slit, pulling a moan out of you. His warmth feels incredible, almost as if a fire has been lit inside of you with his cock acting as the match. The collective gasp is the only sound heard in the silence of his room. You sink on his cock slowly as you adjust to his size, watching the way his eyebrows furrow like he’s concentrating on the pleasure you bring him.. 

You feel whole and complete when you’re like this. Sunghoon’s quietness tells you he’s savoring the feeling too. His breathing is warm as it hits your chest and you look beneath you to see the ends of his hair tickling your breasts. Sunghoon is dry for the most part, save for his still-damp hair, but he looks like an angelic creature who fell from Heaven when you fully seat yourself on his cock. 

Sunghoon moves your body up and down slowly. His hands never stray from your soft skin as your ass meets his thighs. The sensation is incredibly wet and warm, the shock of pleasure shooting from your spine all the way to your toes. He moves you in a quicker pace gradually to build the momentum until he breathes quiet gasps when the flesh of your ass smacks against his skin. 

Your own wanton moans come unexpectedly as he pushes himself deeper into you. Sunghoon has never been this sensual with you either. He’s more vocal than he is now, just shy from an animalistic howl with witty remarks when you’re either too bashful to look him in the eye as he fucks you or when you talk back to him when you know you shouldn’t. This feels almost too raw and natural. It feels like he’s trying to tell you something but you’re too in your head to know what he’s trying to say.

By the time you’re bouncing on him with your hands placed on his chest to keep yourself balanced, you’re wondering how he’s strong enough to support himself on his palms while you ride him like it’s all you know. Sunghoon nods at you, drunk on the euphoria with every plunge you take. He hisses when you clench around him and pulls you off of his body to pin you underneath him, lips pressed against yours in a heated kiss.

“Don’t wanna cum yet,” he mutters against your lips before dragging them down to your neck. “I promised to eat you out, didn’t I?” 

He doesn’t give you the chance to respond. Sunghoon attaches his mouth to your right nipple and licks over your bud until he’s satisfied with how wet it’s become before moving to the neglected one, this time sucking with his tongue flicking over it until your hips push against him. 

Sunghoon lets go and with his hands massaging your chest, he maneuvers down to press a little kiss to your slit. He’s pleased when your body reacts accordingly, arching to push your core towards his face. His hands pinch your nipples before sliding them down your body to grip your ass, pulling you closer to his mouth when he pushes his tongue inside of you.

Your hands fly to grip his hair from the sudden and welcomed intrusion. Sunghoon’s tongue darts in and out of you while his hands massage you from behind. The angle has your chest pushed towards the ceiling as high as you’ll go with your eyes rolled to the back of your head. His wet tongue feels smooth and divine as he brings it to glide over your wet folds, collecting your arousal and drinking it like it’s nectar from the gods. 

His nose bumps your clit and you push your pussy into his face when he surges forward. Sunghoon’s growls into your body make your toes curl against his back. Your mouth hangs open as moan after moan falls from your lips and it seems as though your body knows no self control when it comes to the boy below you. 

“I love your mouth,” you confess with the tug of his hair at the same time an overwhelming, emotional sensation washes over. You don’t say what you mean, but it’s enough for now. 

“I love the sounds you make,” Sunghoon says as he parts from your core. He flattens his tongue to lick up your slit in rapid succession, watching your arousal and his spit drag from your pussy to his tongue.

“You sound like a fucking porn star when I eat you out.” 

“You’re that good,” is all you manage to say when he flicks your clit with his tongue. “I love your mouth but I want your cock.”

“Princess gets whatever she wants.”

Sunghoon pushes himself until he’s hovering over you. He bends down to suck on your nipples before bringing his mouth to your own, kisses you with his hands braced beside you on the mattress. Sunghoon uses his hands to position you how he likes before spreading his own legs to guide his cock into your entrance, allowing himself to push the tip inside of you. 

He inches inside of you little by little, watching the micro expressions on your face when you close your eyes to focus on the pleasure. You feel his fingers brushing the hair from your forehead as he coos and whispers sweet praises about how well you’re taking his cock and how good you feel around him. 

When Sunghoon is fully sheathed inside of you, he pulls your arms around his shoulders and thrusts inside of you so deeply that you’re sure he’s reached your guts. He can feel your tits against his chest as he pushes his hips forward. The moans he hears from you sound like music to his ears and motivate him to thrust into you deeper to continue pulling those delicious sounds out of you.

It feels so good and so deep that it brings tears to the corners of your eyes. Your heart swells when you think about how mind blowing his cock is making you feel and you start to wonder if this is the last time you’ll ever be able to feel Sunghoon like this. The lone tear strays and falls from the corner or your eye until you produce a few more droplets when Sunghoon lifts his body upwards to push himself down onto you. 

You let out a deep, melodic moan that has Sunghoon’s hips stuttering. He looks up from where his head is placed on your neck to see your reddening eyes and furrows his brows quizzically, preparing himself to stop until you shake your head. 

The two of you have never been as silent as you are now. Instead, you let the wet smacks and breathless moans do the speaking for you. Sunghoon leans down to kiss your tear-stained cheeks, and it’s this sheer intimate act that makes you lose yourself around him. 

He slows his pace when he feels you coming undone around him, watching as your chest rises and as it deflates as you come down from your high. It washes over you like an ocean wave, so intensely before it quells around you. Sunghoon finds himself in a similar state until he releases inside of you with a low grunt and his lips on your very own. 

The two of you remain still as you catch your breaths. Sunghoon pulls out slowly and promises to come back with a warm cloth. He comes back once he’s cleaned himself up and gently swipes the cloth over your body to clean any remnants of cum from between your legs before tossing it in his hamper and handing your discarded clothes back to you. 

Sunghoon comes back to bed with boxers and a pair of plaid pajama pants when you blink out of tiredness. He coos at your innocence in this moment before bending down to kiss you while he climbs into bed. Sunghoon turns off the lamp that lights his room and watches as everything falls dark, the light from outside of his window being the only light illuminating over your face. 

He pulls you into him and kisses you slowly. When he hears you yawn, Sunghoon kisses both of your eyelids and promises for the last time that he wants you to stay over until the morning. 

“We’ll be okay, right?” 

Sunghoon stills at your question. You sound too far gone to realize what you’re saying as you nuzzle against his body. When he looks down at you, all he sees is your eyelashes fluttering as you close your eyes and the way your lips form a small pout as you attempt to fall asleep. He doesn’t say anything, choosing to squeeze your body closer to him. 

With one final kiss, he tucks his chin on the top of your head and his fingers caress over your back until the promise of sleep comes before you.

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･

The first week back at university is hectic. 

Your parents said goodbye as your other roommates, Yuna and Ryujin, arrived at your shared apartment. It was nice to see them again after months of only being able to text them because of the distance, and having them with you as your parents left was an added bonus to your weekend. 

You and Sunghoon don’t text much during this time. You ask him if he’s settled in yet, to which he sends a photo of his friends Jay and Jake wrestling in their living room. You react by laughing at the image and that’s the last you hear from him for a while. You don’t expect to hear from him, as you also haven’t been reaching out that much either, due to moving your belongings into your shared apartment and getting ready for the first week of the semester. 

It’s the night before classes begin when Yuna sits down next to you as you watch anime on the shared TV, stealing the pint of cream out of your hands. 

“I can’t believe you were fucking Park Sunghoon over the summer.” You barely react to her taking the ice cream out of your hands and let her have it, grinning in amusement. 

“Stealing my food out of my hands is something I oddly missed in the three months I haven’t seen you.”

“Don’t change the subject,” she says in a way that makes you think she’s trying to be intimidating. The spoon in her mouth isn’t helping her case. “You and Park Sunghoon. You know, the Sunghoon who you had a major crush on in high school but didn’t know you existed until earlier this year?”

“Okay, you really didn’t have to do all of that.” 

“Uh, yes I did.” Yuna shoves another spoonful in her mouth. “I simultaneously want to hear everything about it and nothing at all.” You laugh and steal the ice cream back from her. 

“I couldn’t tell you how it happened, honestly. We didn’t start seeing each other until we both settled back home. I kind of missed being in a place where I know it could’ve been just us two.”

“What about your parents?”

“Gone on a trip for the latter half of summer,” you tell her. “Sunghoon’s parents were traveling with his sister across Korea for dance competitions. It was the perfect set up, if you think about it.”

“God, he’s hot, isn’t he?” she coaxes. “I could totally see he had a thing for you the night you two reconnected. Everyone kept trying to get his attention off of you but he just ignored people who weren’t you.”

“Oh, that’s true.”

“Totally is,” Yuna says with a nod. “I bet it I asked Jake if Sunghoon’s whipped for you, he’d say yes.” You put ice cream in your mouth to suppress a grin. 

“Don’t put delusions in my head.” You look at Yuna. “But do you really think so?”

“The way you were describing your summer fling with Sunghoon made it sound like you guys were dating, Y/N. I know you don’t bullshit your way into delusions like the rest of us either.” 

“He really was a perfect gentleman,” you tell her. “My parents came home when he dropped me off after we hung out and Sunghoon stayed over for dinner until I had to finish packing. It was weirdly domestic.”

“That’s your boyfriend, is all I’m saying.”

You smack her arm. “Quit it.”

“Have you guys been texting since you got back?”

“Not really, but I didn’t think we would be. It’s the first week back and we’re both super busy, you know? I’m sure he’s catching up with his friends and spending time with them since he’s been away all summer. Hoon views my Instagram stories and that’s enough for right now.”

“I don’t know whether you’re trying to convince yourself you’re okay or if you’re actually fine with it.” 

“I’m fine, honest,” you say truthfully. “I mean, I’m busy getting back into the groove of university and entertaining you and Ryujin since your favorite pastime seems to be bothering me.” Yuna rests her head on your shoulders and takes the pint of ice cream back to her. 

“Oh yeah, I definitely missed you.” 

You put your head on top of hers. “I missed you too, Yuna. But seriously, I’m okay.” 

“Did you guys talk about it at all?”

You keep quiet for a moment. “Not really. I was anxious about it the last few weeks of summer but there never seemed to be a right time to talk. We’ve been friendly since our parents came back home so we obviously had to stop fooling around.”

“Still, though. Are you guys like…dating?” 

Yuna doesn’t see your eyes fall. 

“No, we’re not dating.” 

“Hm,” she ponders. “Well he should wife you up soon or else I’ll do it.” 

“We’re already locked in,” you tease her with the hope that this sinking feeling vanishes. 

“Ryujin’s our third,” Yuna says matter-of-factly. “Or, she will be whenever she comes back with dinner.” 

“I missed you guys, I really did. Being back at home was nice and all but I miss going out with you two and staying in all weekend to watch marathons of stupid reality shows that don’t make sense.” 

“We missed you too,” Yuna agrees. “I’m glad we all decided to be roommates again. Kicking out that bitch from the fall semester and having you as the replacement was the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“Don’t get all sappy on me now,” you tease. 

Yuna parts from you to put the ice cream away after the two of you are done with it. She comes back and sits beside you, intently watching the anime in front of her when you pull your phone out. The last message is still that photo and Jay and Jake from a few days ago when you decide to text him.

you: is it bad that i'm still nervous about the first day of school even though it’s my last year of university 

you: asking for a friend 🤨

You shut your phone off to prevent yourself from waiting for his answer. You distract yourself with the show in front of you as minutes goes by before checking again, only to see he hasn’t texted back. The disappointment settles within you, even though the rational part of you knows he’s probably not ignoring you. 

Ryujin comes back twenty minutes later with dinner she’s picked up on her way back from running errands. The three of you sit around the coffee table and eat wordlessly in front of the TV from a tiring day and it doesn’t feel awkward or forced. 

You talk about your respective summers over the sound of the TV, only briefly pausing to watch action sequences that have distracted the conversation until it falls back into place. You tell Ryujin what you told Yuna about your time with Sunghoon and she nearly swoons when you tell her about your summer. 

When the two of them have focused back on the TV, you see Sunghoon text you from the corner of your eye. You check your phone again and try to keep your excitement to a minimum.

sunghoon: Definitely not a bad thing. I’d be a little worried if you weren’t 

you: i think i’m just nervous because it’s our last year 

you: anyway, did you settle in alright? are jay and jake still fighting lol 

sunghoon: Take it easy, okay? You seemed on edge back at home 

sunghoon: The guys are fine haha I think they missed each other even though they don’t act like it. Heeseung’s been keeping the peace. How about Ryujin and Yuna?

you: they’re good!! I’m actually with them right now. we’re watching my hero academia and having dinner 

sunghoon: Pay attention to the TV and not me, Y/N 😭

sunghoon: The guys and I are gonna order takeout and I might pass out soon. Goodnight if I fall asleep before you do :) 

you: gooodnight, hoon 😌

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･

It’s unsurprising that your semester has started with a bang and that you find yourself more busy than not.

You’re barely home between classes, clubs, and your internship that eats up half of your week. You study at home and in cafes on campus with your other friends and roommates as well, catching up on lost time and complaining about how much work is being assigned. 

Sunghoon doesn’t text much and you try not to let it get to you. You’ve sent a few here and there, wishing him a good morning a few days ago and asking if he’d be free to study with you some time this week. Still, you chalk it up to him settling into his life back at university. 

You don’t know why this sinking feeling settles in the pit of your stomach. You never expected this summer romance to turn into anything more despite your want. But the change of environment and how abruptly your life changed after settling into a routine with Sunghoon has you imagining the worst. 

Yuna and Ryujin leave the cafe you’ve been studying at after an hour to head to their shared class, leaving you alone at your table until someone tugs your headphones off of your head. You turn around without hesitance to find the culprit, only to be met with Jake Sim’s infectious grin. 

“There’s that pretty face.” 

“I’m going to hit you by accident one day,” you huff, pausing your music to face him. 

“I missed you too,” Jake says sarcastically, bending down to hug your shoulders when you scowl at him. “How was your summer?” 

“Pretty good,” is all you offer him as he pulls away. “How was being back home in Australia? I’m sure your brother liked having you back.” 

“Quite the opposite but I think he loves me deep down,” he jokes. “Missed you guys, though.” 

You peek over Jake’s shoulder to see the rest of his friends, the very ones you met the same night you reconnected with Sunghoon. 

It was natural the way you became friends with them too. Despite Sunghoon’s attention being on you during that night in January, his friends pried him off of you with the hopes of getting to know the pretty young thing that caught their friend’s attention. When they found out you knew him back in his high school days, it was like the floodgates opened and new friendships blossomed that night. 

“Hey,” you say fondly, opening your arms to engulf Jay in a hug first. Heeseung follows suit and gives you an extra squeeze. Sunghoon stands behind the former with his hands in his pockets when you approach. 

But he doesn’t hug you like his friends do. Instead, Sunghoon tucks you in his side for a quick hug before letting you go. 

Your heart sinks but you’re quick to smile at him and shift your focus back to the rest of the guys. It stings a little, considering his friends who hadn’t seen you in a few months greeted you the way you hoped Sunghoon would. 

You settle back into your seat when Jay sits in front of you and when Jake takes off his backpack. 

“Oh, you guys are staying?” you ask. 

“You don’t mind, do you?” Jay asks. “We have all day to kill.” 

“Not at all! I could use the company. Yuna and Ryujin just left for class.” 

“Say less, princess. Your knights in shining armor are here to save you.” Jake’s words have you shaking your head in disapproval but he throws his head back in laughing before knocking your shoulder with his. “It’s good to have you back.” 

“So did you guys do anything fun when you were back home?” Heeseung asks you and Sunghoon. “Y/N, you worked a summer job, right?”

“Mhm. That part wasn’t too exciting but a job’s a job.” 

“What about the rest of your summer?” 

You tilt your head towards him. “It was great.” 

Sunghoon doesn’t say anything and merely gives you a quick smile before pulling out his own laptop and setting it in front of him. The lump in your throat grows, especially as you look at Sunghoon and will him to look back at you. But he doesn’t. Instead, he tells Jay his coffee order when he offers to buy everyone coffee. 

The five of you remain like that for the next two hours with your noses deep in your assignments and projects. You steal glances at Sunghoon and see that he doesn’t meet your gaze, which confuses you.

you: you you doing okay? you seem kinda quiet 

From the corner of your eye, you watch Sunghoon read your text. 

sunghoon: Yeah I’m alright. Didn’t get a lot of sleep this week :/ 

you: i’m sorry ): hopefully you can get some sleep soon

sunghoon: Hahah yeah I hope so

He returns his attention to the screen in front of him without glancing in your direction. It makes the pit in your stomach sink deeper than before and although he’s given you a reason as to why he’s aloof, the voice in the back of your head tells you to worry. 

But there’s nothing you can do right now, not when his best friends are sitting next to him and certainly not when they’re including you in their conversations. They tell you about their respective summers and how much they looked forward to coming back for one last year before everybody parts ways. 

It warms you on the inside to know you’re being treated like an equal by Sunghoon’s friends. They’re people you know through friends of friends and would only see at parties on the weekends. You were a little surprised to see Jake approach you in a friendly manner because you hadn’t spoken to him since the last week of your third year, only communicating on Instagram when one of you would reply to the other.  

Jay and Heeseung are the same, too. This is the first time you’ve hung out with them when alcohol isn’t involved and you’re scared at how normal this feels, especially when Sunghoon sits across from you but doesn’t make an effort to add anything of substance into the conversation. 

The five of you part ways with Heeseung telling you not to become a stranger this year. You promised him you won’t, but the confused feeling resurfaces when Sunghoon merely waves at you as his friends hug you goodbye. 

You have a bad feeling. 

When the semester drags on, you keep your word and greet them in passing or entertain their rambunctious nature when they include you from time to time. You see Jake the most, as most of his classes are in the same building or the surrounding area in conjunction to yours. He keeps you company in between classes from time to time and you’ve developed a good system where you meet him for lunch in the cafeteria between your class periods and wait for the other guys to join. 

Sunghoon doesn’t text you as much as you’d like him to and it feels silly to expect him to pay attention to you as much as he did over the summer. But you can’t help your yearning, not when he looks criminally good when you see him walking throughout campus.

Communication between the two of you had died down quicker than you realize. After the first few weeks of setting in, Sunghoon texted you less and less with you being the one to initiate the conversation. He would like your Instagram posts and stories from time to time and text you about things your now-mutual friends would invite you to. But that was the basis of your conversations nowadays. 

Two months have passed and you’re confused. 

You respond to his stories as well, especially when he posts with your friends. You try not to read into it when you see girls you know posting Sunghoon on their stories either. They’re innocuous and it’s never just him alone in the frame, but Sunghoon will repost them onto his account and it leaves you wondering if there was any space for you in his life. 

The same phenomenon from high school follows him to university, except his life is not consumed by figure skating anymore. The girls are still fawning over him because of his charm and good looks. People still want to be his friend because he’s wickedly good at soccer even though he’s not on the team. The fraternity he and the other guys are in, often throw parties to celebrate random happenings and use it as an excuse to socialize with people. You see him hanging out with people you don’t know while you wait for a text back. 

The worst part is that you prepared yourself for this outcome but willed yourself to believe it wouldn’t come true. The two weeks you spent worrying about what life would be like once you came back to university was a premonition for how awfully alone you’d feel seeing Sunghoon having fun while you distracted yourself with your studies and your own friends. 

Even Jake, who you don’t know as well as you know Sunghoon, made a small comment about how odd it was that you and Sunghoon hadn’t hung out much. He remembers his friend being smitten by you back in January and figured the two of you must’ve spent a lot of time together when you went back home. You confirmed just as much, leaving out your bedroom trysts when you talked about your summer with Sunghoon. 

It hurts when you realize you’ve become the type of person you promised yourself you’d never be; you wait by your phone to see if Sunghoon texts you outside of the group chat you’ve found yourself in with the other guys and anticipate whatever he might post on social media. You can’t blame people for being interested in Sunghoon either. He’s wickedly good looking and can charm anyone without lifting a finger. It’s unfair the way he can move on with his life without worrying too much about what other people think. 

You wonder if he thinks about you at all. Communication fizzles out until it’s a few texts here and there. You hear from him mostly through that shared group chat but you don’t talk all that much to begin with. It’s mostly the guys joking with each other and you reacting until one of them says something so out of pocket that it prompts a response from you. You’re still navigating how to act around them now that Sunghoon hasn’t paid much attention to you for the months and a half that you’ve been back at school. 

Sometimes you think about how jarring it would look like to people from your hometown if they saw you and Sunghoon together over the summer. You were much more introverted and kept to yourself for the most part back when you were in high school. You were always too shy to make the first move and instead chose to watch people as they made harmless teenage mistakes, watching friendships fail and relationships blossom. 

Coming to university made you rethink your whole approach to life. It encouraged your go-getter attitude and the belief that you’re more capable than you think. It’s why you’ve made more friends in the past four years than you did in the first eighteen years of your life. It’s also why you didn’t shy away from Sunghoon in January despite knowing you used to have the biggest crush on him back when you were seat mates. 

To you, Sunghoon is still that sweet boy who works hard to make people proud of him. He’s that good-hearted, kind person who only wants what’s best for him and his loved ones. He’s not someone you expect to be a local community hero or somebody to put on a pedestal for no reason. Sunghoon has always been your neighbor, one you’ve seen in his good and bad days. 

Brushing you off like you two hadn’t spent the summer twisted in bedsheets makes you feel disappointed and unwanted. 

Jake invites you to his fraternity’s party on Saturday night and you tell him you’ll go. If not because your friend invited you to something he’s passionate about, then definitely because you need a distraction that isn’t academic related. 

He tells you to bring Yuna and Ryujin. The three of you are dressed appropriately and bask in the cooler weather now that the hottest months of the summer are over. The three of you hail an Uber and head over with a few shots of soju each, leaving you pleasantly buzzed with the ability to walk without stumbling. 

The party itself is in full swing when you arrive, as to be expected. Jake meets you at the door and lets you in himself. You almost forget how well known he is because of how painfully normal he seems when he’s not drinking. But walking with him means you witness stranger after stranger come up to him like he’s an old friend they hadn’t seen in years. You assume he knows them all. 

“You guys need a drink,” he says. “What do you like? We have beer, seltzer, and hard alcohol if you want?” 

“I’ll take a seltzer and Yuna will take a beer,” says Ryujin. 

“I’ll do a seltzer too,” you say. Jake fishes for them in the cooler and hands them to you all respectively. “I can’t believe you know this many people.”

“Eh, I know them, give or take. I used to be more active in the frat but physics has been kicking my ass lately,” Jake explains. “This is the first time I’ve had in a while to plan one of these things. It feels good.” 

“You really know how to throw a party, Sim Jaeyun,” Yuna says as she tips her beer bottle towards him. “As long as we get in for free, I couldn’t care less.” 

“You guys will always get in for free,” Jake promises with a salute. “Scout’s honor.” 

“You used to be a boy scout?” Ryujin asks over the music. Jake laughs and shakes his head, assuming she had the most to drink prior to arriving. 

Jake leads you to another room where he says the other guys are hanging out. Jay’s the first to see you, Yuna, and Ryujin, and offers his seat on the couch for one of you. Heeseung gives you a friendly hug when Ryujin happily takes Jay’s former seat as Jake steals your attention to catch up with you from the past week before you notice a girl sitting on Sunghoon’s lap. 

Time itself feels like it’s moving in slow motion when you see them from the corner of your eye. She’s perched on his knee as she talks animatedly to another person you don’t recognize and Sunghoon’s arm is lazily draped over her waist. Your heart sinks, especially when it doesn't register to him that you’ve walked into the room. 

Jake seems to notice how closed off you’ve become when your answers start to slow down. You try not to notice his worried eyes when they dart between you and Sunghoon, but he puts two and two together when you refuse to meet his gaze. 

He maneuvers so that his body is blocking your view and the only person you can focus on is him. You appreciate Jake even if your body language doesn’t convey that at this second. You see Yuna and Ryujin come to the same realization a few seconds later and share a look with the two girls before letting your disappointment wash over you. 

“Hey,” Jake says gently, knocking his bottle with your can. “Don’t look at him.” 

“It’s really hard not to when he’s the only person who has a girl sitting in his lap.” 

“True, but you’re not having fun and it’s only making you upset.” 

You tilt your head in confusion. “But that’s your best friend?”

“One who’s making my other friend feel upset,” he tells you. “We all had a feeling you two were more than just friends, you know. Neither of you are really good at hiding how you feel.” 

“That bad, huh?” 

Jake laughs but shakes his head. “Not really, honestly. It’s cute the way you care for him. No one talks about Sunghoon the way you do.” 

“I don’t know whether to be flattered or offended.” 

“You talk about him like he’s a person with faults, Y/N. I don’t get the feeling that he was an ex-skating protege or the campus’ best looking student when you talk about him.” 

“Well, he is those things,” you mumble in annoyance. 

“Sure,” Jake laughs, “but it’s much more than that. Sunghoon used to tell us about how he’d see you on your balcony when he came home from skating practice, you know. You were always doing something like reading a book or staring at the sky. Hoon said he always wondered what you were thinking.” 

“That is awfully kind of him to say considering he has another girl in his lap,” you sigh. “This feels so childish. I knew whatever happened over the summer was meant to end when we got back to university but I had this idea in my head that it wouldn’t.” 

“I’m sorry,” Jake apologizes. “He’s my friend but so are you. It’s unfair.” 

“This is definitely too depressing of a conversation to have at a party,” you say with an awkward laugh. “You didn’t invite me to hear me bitch and moan.” 

“No, but I’m always down for one. Invite me over the next time you, Ryujin, and Yuna have a bitching session. God knows I need one.” 

“I’ll pencil you in.” 

When you regroup and are introduced to the girl on Sunghoon’s lap, you aren’t sure what’s supposed to hurt more—Sunghoon barely acknowledging you beyond a lazy wave or this girl being an absolute sweetheart who definitely didn’t know you and Sunghoon hooked up for months over the summer.

She’s kind and includes you and your friends in the conversation, catching you up on what you missed before arriving. She’s considerate and explains inside jokes she has with the people around you when they’re brought up in conversation and it makes your heart fall when you realize just how perfect and normal she is. 

You’re not sure whether she’s a girl Sunghoon met just now or has known for a while. You don’t know if he’s going home with her or if this is more than just a one time thing. What you do know, however, is Jake has given you the perfect environment to distract yourself from the awful feeling you get when you see how his chin is tucked on this girl’s shoulder. 

It’s Jake who promises Yuna and Ryujin to watch over you tonight. The girls keep their drinking to a minimum too, just to make sure you get home safely. You down shot after shot when Heeseung or Jay hand you alcohol and mingle with the people around you, forcing yourself to seem more outgoing than you are to prevent yourself from thinking about Sunghoon. 

The worst part is that he doesn’t seem to care that you’re here or that you’re not walking to him. He’s too preoccupied with his personal company and all of his focus is on her, just like it was on you all those months ago. It makes you sick to your stomach and although you’re incredibly wasted, you stop yourself from ingesting anymore alcohol when Yuna suggests it’s time to go back home.

Jake is kind enough to drive the three of you back when he’s sobered up. He walks the three of you into the apartment building and makes sure you’re safe inside the apartment. Jake makes Yuna and Ryujin promise to update him on how you’re holding up over the weekend and leaves to go back to the party after he squeezes your hand and tells you goodbye. 

Your friends help you get ready for bed and the last image before you close your eyes is the way Sunghoon looked at that girl, wishing it was you instead.

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･

“We should set you up on a date.” 

Ryujin barges into your bedroom where you’re sitting cross-legged over your desk with assignments so sprawled over the surface. It’s been a few weeks since the party and you haven’t made an effort to reach out to Sunghoon, muting his social media from your feed and only hearing from him when he chimes in the group chat. 

“He’s a great guy and you guys have pretty similar personalities. It hit me when we were hanging out earlier today but if you’re in, I’ll set everything up!”

Ryujin lets you scroll through his Instagram feed and you’re feeling more hopeful and excited than you have since the semester began. The guy is cute enough that you don’t feel immediately turned off by him and he seems to have a fun, outgoing personality. Ryujin’s a little stunned when you agree off the bat, having expected a little pushback, but you’re tired of feeling second best when it comes to love and romance. 

Ryujin gives this guy your number and tells you that he should be the one reaching out. You listen when she tells you to relinquish that desire to date and rush yourself into meeting up with him if you don’t match well over text. She’s right, as per usual. 

This guy texts you at a respectable hour and keeps your conversations interesting. He makes you laugh and asks you interesting questions that immediately reel you in. You find yourself thinking about Sunghoon less when you talk to him about your own passions and as you get to know him. 

In fact, you’re a bit perplexed at how well the two of you seem to get along in just a few short days. You’ve talked on the phone a few times and have seen each other in passing when you pick up Ryujin from their shared class before heading home. It’s enough familiarity to agree when he asks you to go out with him the following Saturday. 

It still hurts to think about Sunghoon, but this guy has provided a distraction that makes you think your feelings for the former may truly be gone. Maybe you really did only like him for the summer and didn’t get the closer you needed to move on. Maybe this was that closure. 

Saturday comes around and you both agree to meet at a ramen house close to your apartment. Yuna tells you it’s best to meet him there in case you’re not having fun and need a reason to leave. You take her advice and double check that your lip gloss looks good and that all hairs are in place before saying goodbye, promising to update them when you come home. 

You get to the ramen shop fifteen minutes early out of sheer nervousness and rationalize that you’d rather wait for him instead of risk being late. The air is cool enough that you keep your jacket on.

Only, you end up waiting longer than you’d like.

People walk past you but none of them are the person you’re waiting for. You grow more irritable and anxious altogether, checking your phone to see if there are any texts in his end that you neglected to see earlier. But you see nothing. 

After ten minutes past when he was supposed to meet you arrives, you text and ask him where he is. When another ten minutes passes, you call and leave a voicemail. You don’t know why you waited a full forty five minutes for him before deciding that it wasn’t worth it. Being rejected without knowing why for the second time has unlocked the deep insecurity of not being good enough, one you kept hidden from the surface. 

Fresh tears spring to your eyes and you wipe them away quickly to avoid crying in public. The shame you feel is weighing on you heavily. It seems childish to experience this level of annoyance and you refrain from sending a lengthy paragraph with less than favorable things to say. 

It all leads back to the nagging feeling of not being good enough for people to keep around. It’s almost as if you’re a liability of sorts, wandering around and hoping that who you are is enough to give others peace. 

You’re brought out of your thoughts when you hear someone calling your name. 

“Y/N, is that you?” 

You turn around to see Jake squinting and walking towards you. He smiles when he can see you standing in front of him and leans to give you a loose hug, initially too excited to have run into you to notice you’d been crying. When you pull away from him, Jake sees a tear fall from your eye and immediately pulls you back towards him. 

“Woah, woah,” Jake says when you stumble into his chest. He secures you between his arms as you pathetically let your tears fall onto his jacket. He looks down at your crying figure and feels his heart ache. “What happened, Y/N? Are you hurt?”

You shake your head and lift yourself from his chest, roughly pushing underneath your eyes to rid yourself of your tears. You’re sure some of your eyeliner has smudged and your makeup is ruined, and the thought of Jake watching you cry on a public sidewalk makes you feel pathetic.

“You’re not hurt,” he guesses when you move your head from left to right. He puts his hands on your shoulders and bends to look at you. “But you’re crying.” 

“I’m fine,” you lie. “I’m just gonna go home.”  

“Not when you’re like this,” he says. “What’s going on, Y/N?” 

“I had a stupid date with a stupid guy, and he stood me up without telling me why he couldn’t make it.” 

“That fucking blows.” 

“Tell me about it.” 

“He didn’t give you a reason either? I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you sigh. “I think I’m just done with this whole dating bit until I get my life together. I’m exhausted, Jake.” 

He nods. “That guy sucks. I hope he doesn’t wake up tomorrow.” 

“You and me both.” 

“That’s the most un-gentlemanly thing a guy could do. Why bother asking you out if he’s not going to show up?” 

“You’re asking all the right questions but I’m too upset to even think right now, and I’m hungry but all I have in my kitchen is leftovers that I don’t want to eat.” 

The frustration eats at your chest and you feel an impending tantrum rising. Jake can only look at you with sympathetic eyes as you shake from the cool breeze. But he shakes his head when you suggest going back home and offers his arm out to you.

“Screw him. I’ll take you out on a date tonight since you were promised one.” 

You raise an eyebrow. “A date? Jake…”

“Come on,” he says with a friendly smile. “It won’t mean anything. You deserve to go on a mind blowing date after, well, everything.” 

“What makes you think you have what it takes to take me on a mind blowing date?” you ask as you loop your arm with his. 

“Because I, Sim Jaeyun, know how to impress girls.” He laughs at his own joke and ushers you inside the restaurant before flagging down a waiter to be seated. “But really, I like being friends with you and I hate seeing you sad.” 

“You’re definitely climbing the ranks in this totally imaginary friendship ladder,” you tell him. The waiter leads you both to an empty table and Jake pulls out your chair for you before bowing dramatically.

“Your seat, madam.”

“Thank you, kind sir.” 

He laughs and pride swells in his chest when he sees you laughing. Jake has gathered bits and pieces about your summer with Sunghoon between the two of you. He’s not as close with you as he is with the former, but the blossoming friendship since that night you two first met has him thinking you might be someone who he wants around for the long run.

It’s why Jake finds himself irritated at Sunghoon for ignoring you in the first place. He tries to bring you up in conversation subtly, mentioning your name or what you’ve been up to in passing. Jay and Heeseung are quick to take the bait and talk about you candidly like they would with any of their other friends but Sunghoon always remains quiet and stoic. It doesn’t help that Jake remembers the crestfallen look on your face the night his friend let another girl sit on his lap.

Jake can’t guess why this seemingly perfect summer ended so abruptly. Sunghoon was full of hope during his time away from university and often talked about how happy he was to be back home. He mentioned being with you a few times but Jake and the rest of the guys had a sneaking suspicion that you were the one making his last summer before graduating, one to remember. 

But now, you sit in front of him with your hair done and an outfit that he’s never seen you wear to campus before. You look like an angel under the artificial lighting as you talk animatedly about what you’ve been up to since he last saw you. Jake almost feels sorry for Sunghoon. It could very well be him sitting in front of you instead if he hadn’t ignored you. 

The two of you make the fifteen minute walk back to Jake’s apartment after he tells you it’ll be just him until the following evening. He says that Jay and Heeseung are taking a weekend trip but doesn’t know what Sunghoon is up to, although you suspect that he’s with the girl from the party. 

You try not to dwell on it when you enter his apartment. The living area is much cleaner than you anticipated it to be. There’s artwork and posters lining the walls and Jake lets you look around when he grabs two bottles of soju. 

“I’m in desperate need of a bitch-fest and I know you are too,” Jake says as he beckons you to sit on the couch. “This is a judgment-free zone, okay? Whatever you say won’t be repeated.” 

“That’s a tempting offer but I still need to go home later.” 

Jake shrugs. “You don’t have to drink if you don’t want to.” You don’t contemplate it for a second. 

“Screw it.” 

You take one bottle from Jake and unscrew the cap, chugging a quarter of the liquid before handing it back to him. He doesn’t say anything before tipping his head back to do the same. 

“Sometimes I feel like everyone has this expectation of me that I can’t fulfill,” Jake starts. “I mean, I know I’m on the soccer team and all of that shit, but people expect me to be this all-rounder who knows what I’m gonna do in life. I don’t know anything.” 

“That sucks. I can’t imagine why that many people think that they know what’s best for you.” 

“Everyone tells me to go pro. Without fail, every single game ends with someone telling me to jump the gun and go for it. But I don’t play soccer for fame, you know? It’s exhausting and I hate that I’m losing my passion for it.” 

“I’m sorry, Jake.” The two of you sip on the alcohol until a nice buzz has formed. He watches you pout and he refrains from cooing at you. “I think people need to shut the fuck up forever.” 

“Amen.” 

“I didn’t know you felt that way. Seriously, Jake, I’m sorry people make you feel like you have to be somebody you don’t want to be.” 

“People think it’s stupid that I want to pursue a career in astrophysics but it’s what I love and it’s what I’m good at. I’m waiting on acceptance letters for grad schools across the country but nobody seems to give a shit about that.” 

Your heart aches for him. Jake feels your head rest in his shoulder and he rests his own head on top of yours. 

“People think they know what’s good for you based on their own delusions about who you are,” you say. 

“I love my team and I love soccer but lately I haven’t been looking forward to going to practice or the games. I hate that it feels like it’s weighing me down.” 

“Do you know what you’re gonna do?” 

He shakes his head. “Not really. I get in the zone when we have a game but the aftermath is just…wondering what I’m going to do when it’s all over. I want to keep playing but not if it means I lose my passion for the sport.” 

“Well, that makes a lot of sense. I’d hate to see you lose passion for the thing that makes you happiest.” 

“Me too. Now you go,” Jake beckons after a moment of silence. “I feel like I just ripped my heart out and put it in your hands.” You steal the bottle from Jake’s hands and he motions to open a new one as you finish the last of the liquid. 

“I’m going to feel really stupid for saying all of this so please promise you won’t make fun of me.” Jake rubs your arm with the hand around your shoulder. 

“I would never, Y/N.” 

You sigh. “Sometimes it feels like everything for me is an ‘almost.’ It just seems like the universe has it out for me and won’t let me be happy because everything I’ve ever wanted keeps getting ripped away just when I think it’s in reach. 

“This stupid date is a first. I feel so fucking humiliated and I hate that I waited as long as I did just for him to not text me or let me know he wasn’t coming. It makes me feel like some sort of pathetic excuse of a human being that he couldn’t give me the decency to give me a heads up.”

“He’s fucked up for that, Y/N. I mean it. Don’t let anyone make you feel bad about it, okay?” 

“Thanks, Jake. This whole Sunghoon thing too…I’ll admit that I’m hurt. Sue me. It was shitty to ghost me and pretend I don’t exist. It’s fucking cowardly not to end it with me face-to-face. But mostly, I feel so fucking ashamed that I even fell for him in the first place.”

“What do you mean?” 

You sink deeper into Jake’s side. “Sunghoon has always attracted attention wherever he goes. Back in high school, everyone thought he was untouchable because he competed in skating competitions and had to miss school to appear on TV. 

But to me, he was just my neighbor who struggled to wake up in the morning or someone I’d see come home late at night after everyone had eaten dinner. It was so weird to me back then, to see someone as young as him do what he did.”

Jake leans the other bottle towards you and you take a long sip. 

“I wanted to be friends with him so bad, Jake. He was so funny without even trying. All the guys and girls in school would laugh because they wanted to be his friend but I thought he had such a unique sense of humor. And he’s way smarter than people gave him credit for. I don’t know how he managed to be a professional skater and a student at the same time.

Then we bumped into each other at that party after three years of not seeing each other. Sunghoon is more confident than he was when we were kids. I think I am too. It was weird talking to him about our hometown when we barely talked, but it felt like we lived the same life.” 

“So why do you feel ashamed?” 

You bite your lip. “I had the biggest crush on him when I was sixteen. We shared only one class together and instead of a final, our teacher said we could have a small holiday party and have secret Santas. Sunghoon picked my name out of the bunch and he gifted me two things—a vinyl of my favorite album and guitar picks.” 

Jake nudges you. “You play guitar?” 

“I remember telling him how shocked I was because the budget was twenty dollars. But Sunghoon said he was at the mall with his friends when he saw this vinyl in the local record store and had to buy it. He told me he was originally just going to give me the guitar picks, but he remembered that all I could talk about before class started was how excited I was for it to come out.” 

“Wow…that’s a pretty sentimental gift.” 

“I was so touched that he did that and remembered something about me. It felt like the first time I was seen by people who weren’t my parents. That turned into a big, fat crush on Sunghoon that ended when he started dating the most popular girl in school at the time. It made sense, you know. Both of them were prom king and queen and that dumb tradition reminded me that I have more to live for than waiting for a boy to like me back.

But then summer happened. It was like I was sixteen all over again and my feelings for Sunghoon never went away. I ran into him getting coffee and we ended up talking for an hour at the coffee shop before we went back to my place. The rest of the summer is history.” 

Jake drinks from the bottle. “Sunghoon was your first love, wasn’t he?”

You groan into your hands. “Don’t remind me.” 

“He’s not on my good side either, babe. Lately he’s been on edge, I guess. He’s more irritable, too. Sunghoon’s short with us and it’s driving me crazy.”

“Seems like he’s the common denominator.”

You drink from the bottle. “I don’t base my value on whether or not I’m dating but…it always feels like I’m losing. It feels like I’m constantly placing second and it kills me that I have to experience this all over again.” 

Jake doesn’t say anything for a while and your buzz is starting to increase. He pulls you in for another hug and sits like that for a good moment until he’s sure you won’t cry again.

“Life is unfair but at least we have soju.” 

You snort. “You got that right. Didn’t you say you guys had a karaoke machine? I think we need to do something that’s not depressing.” 

“When I get the highest score, you better not complain.” 

Jake excuses himself to get more drinks from the kitchen and takes the liberty to text Yuna and Ryujin about what happened that night and that you’ll probably stay over at his place after consuming so much alcohol. They thank him for letting them know and Jake pockets his phone, hoping that the hurt in your soul will disappear when you wake up.

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･

It’s two in the morning when Sunghoon comes home unexpectedly.

Jake notices him after the floor creaks under his footsteps and switches his eyes from the television screen to his friend. You fell asleep an hour ago and he didn’t have the heart to wake up, nor drive you back to your place because of the alcohol left in his system. Instead, Jake put a blanket over your body and let you lie your head on the armrest. 

Sunghoon looks between you and Jake. He doesn’t know what to make of it and takes his shoes off to delay the conversation he knows is imminent.

“I thought you were with that girl,” Jake mutters, not bothering to glance at Sunghoon, who is now standing close to him. 

“I couldn’t do it,” Sunghoon tells him. 

“Hm?”

“I said I couldn’t do it. She was kissing me and tried to take my shirt off and I couldn’t go through with it.”

Jake nods. “Okay.”

“Okay…”

“You should probably go to bed. It’s two A.M.” Sunghoon looks at Jake quizzically. 

“Alright? Why is Y/N here?” 

“That’s none of your business,” Jake says with a clipped tone.

“It is my business if she’s in my apartment.” 

“Our apartment.”

“Sure, whatever.” 

Jake’s mouth quirks slightly. “Y/N and I were just hanging out.”

“The two of you, hanging out in the apartment. Right.”

“Why’s that so hard to believe?”

Sunghoon pushes his irritation down. “You guys don’t seem like the type to hang out without the rest of us.”

“I bumped into her tonight and we ended up coming back here and getting drunk. No biggie.”

“You guys got drunk, alone?”

“Why? Is there a problem?”

Sunghoon feels taken aback by Jake’s attitude. He wants to throw it back in his face and ask his friend why he’s acting the way he is, but your sleeping figure prevents him from raising his voice. It’s late and he’s tired, and all he wants to do is figure out if you and Jake are involved. He sticks around for another minute, trying to think of someone to say without tipping Jake off. He balances on both legs, awkwardly shuffling around until Jake sighs loudly.

“We’re not seeing each other.”

Sunghoon chokes, causing Jake to roll his eyes. “W-What?” 

“Y/N and I aren’t hooking up.”

“I didn’t think you were.”

“Sure you weren’t,” Jake smirks, turning his attention back to the TV screen. “You’ve been standing there like an idiot trying to figure out how to talk to me about this.”

“Well…okay then. Good.”

“Good?”

Sunghoon panics. “Yeah. She doesn’t deserve more heartbreak.” Jake laughs and shakes his head, biting his tongue to prevent what he wants to say from tumbling out. 

“That’s rich coming from you, Sunghoon. You of all people don’t get to talk about what Y/N deserves. You’ve been a coward this entire semester and didn’t have the balls to cut it off with her in person.”

“Jake, I—”

“This is the first time I’ve seen you act like a child, bro. You ignore your feelings and then get mad when you see her with me. Which is it? Do you like her or not?”

“It’s not that simple. I just—”

“You just what? Throw away a good thing and ruin it? Ignore the only person in your life who knows you inside and out?”

“I’m afraid that she only likes me because everybody else used to,” Sunghoon confessed. “I’m scared that Y/N doesn’t give two shits about me other than the career I had and where my life is going.” 

Jake scoffs. “I love you, man, but your head is so far up your ass right now. Y/N is the only person who cares about you for the reasons you want. She’s the only person who’s never seen you like some sort of prize to be won and you threw that all away for what exactly? For a girl you barely know?” 

“She’s no one.”

“Precisely,” says Jake. “You keep deluding yourself into thinking all of these girls you meet are perfect for you but you’re self sabotaging. Who’s to say those girls give a fuck about you?” 

Sunghoon remains quiet and allows Jake to be angry at him because he knows he deserves it. He never intended to hurt you. Seeing you stop looking for his eyes at parties or ignoring him when you see him in passing makes Sunghoon believe you’ve stopped trying with him, just like he did with you.

It hurts to know that there’s a possibility of you moving on from him. It’s strange to think you could live a life without him in it because this past summer has taught him how loved he could feel and how he could have it all if he really wanted it. But the happiness and worry-free vacation scared him into oblivion with the recollection that everyone who has ever loved him, has now left.

But not you. You were there for Sunghoon in his youth without him knowing it and you were there for him when he needed a reminder that his life could be more than outgrowing expectations. Sunghoon ran away from it because it felt foreign, and now he’s understanding the weight of his actions when he sees you comfortably sleeping next to his best friend.

“I’m not going to kick Y/N out tonight, by the way. She’s been asleep for an hour and I’m not gonna disrupt her,” Jake says, bringing Sunghoon out of his thoughts. “It’s probably best if you stay in your room until she leaves tomorrow morning.”

He nods and looks at your still figure on the edge of the couch. He wants to see you up close like he did over the summertime and kiss the worry from your pout, but he refrains. Instead, Sunghoon whispers goodnight to the two of you and disappears into the hallway.

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･

Sunghoon builds the courage to talk to you when he wakes up the next morning and sees the living room empty. He’s not sure if Jake told you about him arriving earlier than expected. Honestly, he’s not sure what he’s hoping for. 

He prays for a moment to get you alone and that you’ll hear him out. Knowing you were so close but out of his grasp makes Sunghoon’s heart fall to his chest. It feels like a constant battle between what he wants and what he thinks is good for him based on unsavory experiences from his youth. But you’re not just another person to him. 

Sunghoon breaks it off with the girl from the party and he’s more than shocked when she tells him there aren’t any hard feelings. But she says she always noticed the far away look in his eyes and assumed he was still hung up on somebody else in the meantime. Sunghoon apologizes until he feels like it’s enough. 

When he sees you standing outside of the local convenience store by your apartment in the middle of the night, Sunghoon knows it’s time for him to stop being a coward. 

“Y/N,” he says when he approaches. 

You look perfect underneath ungodly fluorescent lights, so much so that he thinks it’s unfair how good you look. The basket in your hand is filled with a few items and Sunghoon is immediately transported to all the nights where the two of you would make midnight runs for late night snacks. It tugs at his heart strings and he wants to turn back time at this moment.

You look at him like you’ve seen a ghost. He knows he’s the last person you expected to run into tonight. It’s clear by the way you’ve taken a step back, carefully dropping a bag of chips in your basket.

“What do you want?” 

Sunghoon tries not to wince at your cold tone.

“Can we talk?”

“What’s there to talk about?”

“Alright,” he says. “I deserve that.” 

You sigh. “You have until I finish shopping to talk.” 

Sunghoon wastes no time and stands beside you at a respectable distance to avoid making you feel uncomfortable. You scan the aisles and he realizes you’re taking your time when he remembers that you know this store like the back of your hand. 

“I’m sorry,” Sunghoon begins. “I’m sorry for ghosting you after our summer together. It was shitty on my part to ignore you and then have you see me with another girl.” 

“Is that all?” you asked him with a clipped tone. “Is that really what you wanted to tell me?” 

“No,” he rebukes, swallowing harshly. “You deserve that apology at the least. I don’t know why I did it. I guess a lot of my fears about holding people close scared the shit out of me because everyone leaves eventually and I was scared that you’d be one of them.

“I know it was fucked up not to talk to you about this before we came back to school. I could tell something was bothering you but I was so selfish and tried to convince myself that we’d be okay once we left home. I’m so fucking sorry for ignoring you and making you feel like you weren’t worth my time, Y/N. But I’m here to tell you that I’m so in love with you and that I’m so, so fucking sorry.” 

You stop in your tracks and shut your eyes. He watches you breathe in and holds his breath. Sunghoon’s hands are shaking and his heartbeat feels like it’s running as fast as a bullet train when you turn around to face him. When you open your eyes, all he can see is disappointment. 

“You were everything to me, you know? Back in grade school, everyone used to talk about you like you were a God but I was the only person who talked to you like a human being. I know you know that. I was the only person your age who didn’t make you feel like you had to meet expectations. 

When we reconnected over the summer, it felt like I was struck by lightning, or something. God, I had the biggest crush on you when we were in high school but you never looked at me like that because I wasn’t one of the girls who was popular enough to be seen with you. But I know we were all caught up in stereotypes and childish behavior. I don’t blame you for that.”

Sunghoon follows you to another aisle.

“Then summer happened. You treated me like your girlfriend and you talked about the future like I was going to be part of it. You messed with my head when you’d hold me in public and kiss me when we had sex. You confused me when you stopped texting me and when you decided to hookup with some girl without breaking it off with me. I don’t give a shit if you didn’t like me back. The decent thing to do would’ve been to tell me you wanted to stop whatever it was we had.

I feel so fucking humiliated to think you could’ve ever reciprocated my feelings for you. I hate that I let you back into my life just for you to treat me the way you did. It makes me feel like I’m not good enough for you and I don’t want to feel like that anymore.” 

“But I love you,” Sunghoon croaks with tears forming in his eyes. 

“Well, it’s too late for that.” 

You walk to the cashier without looking behind you. Sunghoon feels frozen on his ground but sees your figure becoming smaller before he rushes to stand next to you and pull out his wallet.

“Paying for my shit won’t fix this.” 

“I know,” Sunghoon says softly while he hands the cashier his credit card. “Just let me. Please.” 

You don’t intervene. You don’t say anything when he steps out of the store with you or when he offers to walk you home because it’s dark out and you know it’s a ten minute journey. You don’t say anything when the wind blows renders you cold, but you decline when Sunghoon offers your jacket. 

“Thanks for walking me,” you say when you reach your front door. “Sunghoon, I want to believe that you’re sorry and you regret what you did, but that doesn’t change the fact that you hurt me. I don’t know about you, but I’m tired of this back and forth. It’s time we both move on, don’t you think?”

His mouth feels dry and Sunghoon thinks he might shatter into a million pieces in front of you. He feels his heart breaking when you turn around to unlock your door and when you don’t spare him a glance as you walk inside. Sunghoon stays with his mouth slightly ajar as he stares at your front door, replaying your words in his head. 

With a heavy heart, Sunghoon begins to walk home and lets his tears fall until his vision becomes blurry.

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･

“Now you know I’m not one to give men the benefit of the doubt, but Jake says he can hear Sunghoon crying in his room every night.”

Ryujin and Yuna sit on your bed while you’re sitting on the chair at your desk. They pick at the pillows decorating the mattress while you kick your feet up and place them on top of the blanket.

“And, as we know, Sunghoon doesn’t cry,” says Yuna.

“Serves him right,” you say. You don’t deny that it makes your heart hurt for him, but your anger and pride prevent you from expressing any sadness for Sunghoon.

“Based on what you told us, it really sounded like Sunghoon’s apology came from the bottom of his heart and it wasn’t a cop out to make himself feel better.” Yuna hugs your pillow closer to her. “It’s clear that you two still love each other.”

“But it doesn’t matter, Yuna. Not when the thought of ghosting me crossed his mind. It hurts to know that there was even a time when Sunghoon thought I wasn’t worth keeping around.” 

“We can all agree he was a fucking idiot but there’s a reason why he’s crying every night and why he didn’t make up excuses when you told him how you felt,” says Ryujin. “That’s gotta count for something.”

“Jesus, you two must really believe him if you’re saying all of this.”

Yuna shrugs. “Obviously we don’t know him as well as you do but we know him well enough. What he did was terrible, no doubt about that. But it’s been weeks since you guys saw each other and you’re both so miserable.”

“Hey!” you shout, plucking an eraser off of your desk and flinging it at her. “I’m not miserable.”

“Sure,” Ryujin snorts. “There’s no use in lying to us when you know we’ll call you out.” She smiles in satisfaction when you huff. 

“We’re not saying you need to marry him or even absolve what he did,” Yuna advises. “But we both know you’re not moving on from him. You’re hurt and we get that but you’ve loved him all your life. That feeling will never go away.”

“What if he hurts me again?” you ask. “What if he decides that he’s going to stop communicating with me because I’m not what he wants anymore?” 

“The man told you he was in love with you in front of strangers in a convenience store,” Yuna deadpans. “Even if he does decide it’s over, you’ll be strong and you’ll know how to stand your ground.”

“If you don’t go for it, you’ll know how it’ll end. But come on, Y/N. You’re so in love with Sunghoon that you still yearn for him even after you told him to move on from you. Don’t you think you deserve to be happy too?” 

You bite your lip. Ryujin and Yuna look at you with all the love and care in the world, and for a moment you wonder if Sunghoon has ever looked at you like that. 

Ryujin speaks. “Again, you know I’m the last person to vouch for a man, but this is Sunghoon. He’s the guy you love more than life and someone who will never be able to move on from you.” 

“You have to realize that,” Yuna says. “You’re everything to him.” 

“I don’t know.”

“But you care so much for him. I mean, you were ready to bolt out of the apartment to check up on him when I told you he’s been crying.” 

“Fuck you guys,” you say in distress, hiding your face in your lap. They laugh and come to stand next to you, pulling your body in an upright position and smothering you in between them. 

“Just talk to him, at least. See where it goes. If it doesn’t work out, at least you could say you tried.”

“And you know,” Yuna says, “sometimes trying your best is enough.” 

You gather yourself and put your shoes on when Ryujin hands you a tissue. Yuna grabs her car keys and tells you she’ll drive and that they’ll wait for as long as you need in case you need any back up. You hug both of them like you’re afraid they’ll slip away but they tell you that everything will be just fine. 

Heeseung is the one who answers the door when you knock. He’s shocked to see you but lets you in when Jay and Jake spot you from the living room. Sunghoon sits between them on the couch when Jake nudges his side. 

When he meets your eyes, he understands what it means to have the wind knocked out of his lungs. He wipes a stray tear from his eyes and you wonder if he knows how your heart is breaking for him all over again. 

“We’ll be outside,” Jake says to cut the silence. The three boys walk out and join Yuna and Ryujin in the car when they see them parked out front. 

“Hi,” you say quietly, standing awkwardly with your weight shifting from one leg to the other. 

Sunghoon stands abruptly and nearly trips over the blanket covering his lap to get to you. You stifle a grin when you remember why you’re here in the first place and you hate that you melt whenever he’s around you. 

“Y/N, hi,” Sunghoon says. “W-What are you doing here?”

“I’ve been thinking about what you said that night you apologized,” you tell him. “I didn’t think you loved me the way you said you did until Jake told us you’ve been crying for weeks.”

“How could I not love you?” he asks timidly. Sunghoon wants to reach for your hand but refrains because he feels like it’s too soon. 

“I don’t know.” 

“You’re everything to me, Y/N. You’re the person I want to talk to at the end of the day and the person who sees the best in me. You’ve never made me feel like I wasn’t enough and it was so stupid of me to think that you would’ve turned out to be somebody who would leave me. You’ve been so nice to me since we were kids and all I did was make you feel like you weren’t good enough.”

“Hoon—”

“I don’t want you to think I’m saying all of this to get you to feel a certain way. But fuck, I love you, and all I want is for you to be happy. You of all people deserve that at the minimum.” Sunghoon nods and sniffles. “You deserve the world and I’m sorry that I made you feel like you weren’t.” 

“I won’t say that everything’s okay,” you begin. Sunghoon nods and casts his gaze to the floor. “I’ve never felt so passionately about someone before you, Sunghoon. I don’t think I ever knew what to do about my feelings for you. It was so hard watching you date people in high school who I knew were only with you because they thought you’d become famous.

Everyday I wished you would look at me like you looked at them. And then you did, but you made me so confused when we came back that I convinced myself it must’ve been an illusion.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“But I know you mean what you say.” You sigh, taking a step forward towards him. “I know you’re being honest with me. I know you well enough to know when you’re lying.”

“I’m not lying about this,” Sunghoon’s wears immediately. 

“I know you love me. I know because you don’t cry about things so easily. You’re resilient like that and you’ve always pushed through. The only time I saw you like this was when you didn’t qualify for that skating competition back in grade school. But even then, you just trained harder until you qualified for the next one. 

What I’m trying to say is, I don’t hate you and it would feel weird if you weren’t in my life. I don’t know where that leads us but it’s only fair that I’m honest if that’s what I expected of you.”

“I want you and only you,” Sunghoon tells you. “You are the best part of me and everyone knows that too. I love you, Y/N. I love you so much.” 

Sunghoon almost doesn’t believe it when your hands cup his jawline. He doesn’t believe he’s awake when your lips touch his and when you push yourself into him like you’re afraid you’ll fall.

He holds you delicately and reciprocates your kiss. Sunghoon doesn’t dare to push you further, allowing you to take the lead and set the pace at your own discretion. When you pull away, he looks at you with plump lips and closes his eyes when he feels your thumbs wipe away his tears. 

“I love you too,” you say. “I didn’t spend all of my life crushing on you just for this not to work out.” 

Sunghoon laughs for the first time with you and it makes him feel like the weight of the world is no longer on his shoulders. He holds his hand with yours and kisses your palm twice. 

“We should probably let the guys back in, huh?” 

“I say we should all have a movie night,” you suggest. “I mean, the five of them didn’t put up with us for nothing.” 

Sunghoon opens the door and beckons all of them inside, still keeping a hold on your hand as you kick your shoes to the side. 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Jay says with a smile. “It’s about time!”

“We love you man,” Heeseung says as he high-fives Sunghoon. He gives you a side hug when he enters the apartment. “I’m really happy for you, Y/N.”

“So are you guys dating now?” Ryujin asks. 

“We still have a lot to talk about but I think we’re on the same page,” you tell her. Sunghoon kisses the crown of your head and your friends are amused when you smile. 

“Y/N suggested we should have a movie night,” Sunghoon says. “I’m down for it if you guys are.”

“I am SO raiding your liquor,” says Yuna. Jay follows in tow and starts preparing the popcorn while Heeseung fetches more blankets and pillows.

“You know,” Jake says with a smirk on his face, “this is so going in my speech when you two get married.” 

You and Sunghoon choke and struggle to speak.

“M-Married?” Sunghoon stutters. 

“Don’t act like you don’t fantasize about Y/N being your wife. And you,” Jake says while pointing in your direction, “don’t act like Hoon isn’t what you think about day and night.”

“Shut the fuck up, Jaeyun,” you whine with heat crawling up your cheeks. You turn to bury your face in Sunghoon’s chest. 

“No, don’t hide.” He pries you off of him with a pout. “It’s cute. You’re cute.” Sunghoon kisses your cheek as Jake claps his hands.

“Just remember what I said!”

“Yeah, yeah,” you mutter, waving Jake off. “Whatever you say.” 

When enough time has passed for the dust to settle and for water to flow under the bridge, neither you nor Sunghoon are too surprised when Jake manages to make your friends laugh as he tells them the story of tonight after the graduation ceremony.

Jake watches as Sunghoon fixes the tassel on your cap as his mom stands to take a photo of your friend group before your life truly begins. The familiar sensation of pride swells within him when he watches the two of you, almost like it was almost meant to be.

In a way, it was.

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･

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#enhypen smut #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #kpop smut #enhypen scenarios #park sunghoon x reader #sunghoon x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen x reader #park sunghoon smut #sunghoon imagines #park sunghoon #sunghoon scenarios #enhypen sunghoon #sunghoon #our last summer #my writing

[changisworld]

“Why do you make me feel like this, pretty?”

fuckboy!hyunjin x reader

Word count; 5,902

Summary: After hyunjin took your virginity, you grew attached despite trying your hardest not to. You find out he hooked up with someone the day after it happened which broke your heart, making you cry.. but of course, hyunjin caught you crying. He didn’t really know what he felt, it being new to him, as he tries to refuse the silly ideas popping into his brain, he can’t ignore how much you being upset is making his heart.. hurt?? Surely he doesn’t like you too..?

18+ ONLY, MDNI, SMUT UNDER THE CUT.

©ANY translation, copy & paste, posting of my work is strictly forbidden for ANY posts/ writing i post.

main masterlist here

part 1 here

**This can be read on its own despite it probably being confusing but i highly recommend reading part 1!**

SMUT WARNINGS: spit/drool, PIV, needy reader, pet names, shyish reader, rimming( f rec), oral ( f rec), fingering (f rec), finger sucking, unprotected sex, jealous jinnie, edging???,pull out method, literally 1 spank, slight dacryphilia, jealous jinnie, soft jinnie, kind jinnie, hyunjins a tease obvs, slight aftercare, wayyy fluffier ending than last time you're welcome!!

You & Hyunjin walk off campus, you still hiding your face from him, embarrassed at the tears now staining your cheeks, your face tinged red, you also don't fail to miss the looks you & Hyunjin are receiving from other students walking past the both of you, his arm still around you & you can't help but feel judged, so you push his arm off.

"Forget the cafe, I'm just gonna go home, I feel.. sick. I'll see you later Hyunjin." you murmur, still not looking at him in the eye.

"Y/n stop being weird, just cmon. I promise to cheer you up." He replies back, reaching out to cup your cheek but you move your head before murmuring a quick 'bye' before walking away from him hastily, leaving him standing there, confused & a bit annoyed.

He watches as you turn the corner & he huffs before kicking a stone nearby. 'Why do I care she's actually upset? 'What did I do wrong?' 'I hope she's okay' & 'Shit how can I apologise' are all thoughts that race through his head, no matter how much he tries to shake it all off, he genuinely feels guilty. But why? He never feels sorry for the girls he fucks n chucks, so what makes it different? He barely even knows you? He only spoke to you for a week which is barely anything. He sighs before pulling out his phone & going onto his contacts, about to call Joy, another one of his side things, before deciding against it, instead calling his friend Jisung& asking to meet him.

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Twenty minutes later Jisung meets him at the local dog walking park & they end up sitting on a bench, talking about random stuff before the topic of you comes up, but not because of Hyunjin.

“You’re lucky you got to partner up with y/n for that assignment, I got put with Changbin so obviously i fucking failed, tryna do that presentation on the spot was absolute torture, you still talk to her? she seems quiet as hell.” Han sighs, sipping his bubble tea through his straw & Hyunjin laughs.

“Ay! I actually helped her so shut up, just because you both have no more than eight brain cells, i’m just proof there is such a thing as looks & beauty. Nah, we haven’t really spoken since, just been busy i suppose & what the hell am i meant to say to her?” Hyunjin replies, a quick chuckle leaving his lips.

“What do you mean you’re proof that looks n beauty exist, y/n basically invented it you idiot. Wha'cha mean what are you meant to say to her? Did you fuck her too or something?" Han questions, leaning forward.

Hyunjin just kisses his teeth before nodding & Han just raises his eyebrows. "fuck, I didn't think someone like y/n would get around that way. Can you do me a favour n start speaking to her again n put in a good word about me I wanna approach her but she feels intimidating, you get me?" Once Hyunjin hears these words, a bad & gross feeling bubbles up in his stomach.. is what he feeling... jealousy?

"Uhh.. you're really not her type, she's not up for dating, she told me. Go try your luck with someone else." Hyunjin says in a bitter tone, not looking at the man in front of him & Han scoffs.

"You chat shit Hyunjin, stop gatekeeping! I'll just use my charms & trust me, we'll be fucking a week later n dating two weeks later." Jisung jokes, patting Hyunjins leg but he pushes it off.

"You're ridiculous Jisung, she won't want what's between your legs." Hyunjin spits out before standing up off the bench, stretching out & sighing. "I have things to do, you can keep day dreaming, I'll see you later. choke on your boba." Hyunjin jokes with Han & he spits out a bubble as a response before he walks away, leaving Han on the bench.

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He walks through the rest of the park, thinking about Hans words & he can't get over it. 'Why am I so jealous?' 'Who does he honestly think he is talking about y/n like that?' 'They wouldn't even look good together.' are things that keep racing through his head & he is getting more pissed off as the seconds go by.

He gets out of the park & he keeps walking on the pavement, not having an actual destination in mind.. until he seen you walking out of a random convenience store across the street & a lightbulb lights up behind his brown eyes.

He picks up the pace of his walk as he follows just far enough behind you on the other side of the road until you reach your apartment complex before entering & he can't help but feel like an absolute creep, but that doesn't stop him. He screenshots his location on find my Iphone, just so he won't forget where to go later on as he walks back the way he came, heading to the main line of shops near the campus.

He strolls around for around twenty minutes, looking at random little trinkets, bookmarks with the college logo on it, which he cringes at due to the look of it, before he keeps walking until he reaches a little florist shop.

He enters it, aimlessly walking around, fingertips grazing over a few roses & tulips, admiring the pretty colours as he sets his eyes on a bouquet of lillies. He picks it up, giving himself a better look at it before deciding he is happy with it, heading to the counter.

He places them down, not paying attention to the cashier as he looks at the little vases beside the register.

"Can I get this pink vase to- ohh, I didn't know you worked here Jennie, hiya." he says, surprised. "Sure. You know, Lisa doesn't like lillies, I suggest you get her daffodils, her favourite colour being yellow n all." she responds, smiling up at him. "Ah, they.. they're not for Lisa so I'll pass. Can you fill up the vase with a bit of water too? I think that's what you're supposed to do, right?" he says quickly, hand coming up to the back of his neck, the awkwardness filling the small space.

"mhmm. £29.11 is the total." She says in a cold voice, taking the tag off the vase as she turns around to the small sink, filling up the vase 1/3 of the way. She dumps the bouquet in the vase with no care at all before pushing it towards him, giving him the card machine. He pays, a strained, awkward smile on his face before saying thank you & leaving.

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After buying you a box of chocolates & a Vanilla bean smelling candle & following the path you walked on earlier, he ends up back outside your apartment complex.

He sits on the front steps, waiting for someone to leave the building so he can catch the door & once he is inside, he begins knocking on every door, talking to each person who answers in a quiet voice, Ignoring the confused looks of other students who recognise him who are all definitely wondering why he is knocking doors looking for you, making sure you wouldn't hear him & then refuse to open the door.

He reaches the fourth floor, mouth slightly dry from all the talking he has had to do & he is beginning to doubt his memory. He knocks on the third door & takes a step back, waiting for an answer as he hears footsteps & he can't help the smile that spreads across his face as you are the one who open the door.

"Surprise, & I'm not just talking about my pretty face. Can I come in?" he chirps as he raises his arms, making sure you see what he has brought despite it being almost all you can see, not missing the chance to give you an up & down look, you wearing black tight shorts & an oversized off the shoulder graphic shirt.

"Hyunjin, I told you I was sick.. How the hell do you know where I live?" you question, honestly just confused. "Does that matter? I asked a question, Don't leave me standing here I went to like twenty doors to find you!" he pouts. You roll your eyes & begin to shut the door but Hyunjin stops it with his foot.

"Okay okay okay! I followed you, but not in a creepy way I swear! I just wanted to.. apologise? But I knew you would ghost me If I text you." he says in a sulky voice. You groan before opening the door back open, his pretty face poking through the gap. "You are a creep, you know that? Why you apologising?" you question him, crossing your arms, not amused but slightly flattered despite not showing it.

"I'm not going to broadcast my deep, heart warming words in the corridor for everyone to hear, just let me inside, pleaseee." he pouts again & you just sigh before moving out of the way so he can enter, taking his shoes off as soon as they touch your laminate flooring.

You walk into your connected living room & kitchen before sitting on your corner kitchen counter, your legs swinging off it as Hyunjin follows behind you, looking around at the cute random decorations hung up on your walls & on the mantle pieces.

He places the flowers on your coffee table before walking back into your small kitchen & leaning on the opposite counter top, still holding the chocolates & candle.

"Okay, Can I give you my apology now? I rehearsed this to make sure I get everything right." He tries to joke but you just look at him with a blank expression before nodding, encouraging him to continue. "Okay, I didn't realise how much I've upset you & I'm sorry for not trying to check up on you sooner & stopped speaking to you. I partially didn't even mean to ghost you but I also genuinely thought you wouldn't speak to me anymore since you're always so concentrated on lessons & studying, I thought you would have thought I was getting in your way. I'm also sorry for fucking with that girl & you overheard it, if I'm genuinely being honest, I did it to try wipe my mind of you. I know what we did is a huge thing & it was wrong of me to have acted the way I did, if i'm being honest, this was the first time I did what we did so I just didn't really know how to act, but I'm genuinely sorry y/n. Chocolates?"

He blurts out, not taking his eyes off you as he feels his cheeks go hot, the nerves & also the way you're looking at him making him flustered. You both sit in silence for a minute, him waiting for a response & you thinking of a response.

"Gimme the box & light the candle for me, second drawer to your right n you will find a lighter. If you felt like this all week, You've still had seven days to come n tell me this but instead you've let me feel like shit for a week, this was the exact reason I was unsure to do it with you Hyunjin, in fear something like this would have happened & instead of just growing a pair & talking to me, you fuck someone else to just try forget?" You reply, your voice getting a bit shaky without meaning it, the feelings of it all hitting you again.

Hyunjin listens as he digs into his pocket & pulling out his own lighter & lighting it before putting it on the counter & he walks the few steps over to you, handing you the chocolate before standing right in front of you, leaning his hands on the counter on the outside of your legs, caging you in.

"Please y/n, don't think like that. I know I should have swallowed my pride n apologised earlier, I was just trying to convince myself I didn't give a fuck but I do, hence why I'm here. I honestly think you used those crystals & manifested this or something." he mumbles the last part, looking away from you, his ears going red after hearing his words out loud & your legs stop swinging as you pause at his words.

"What do you mean you actually give a fuck? What are you trying to say." you reply back, resisting the urge to reach out & stroke his hair. Hyunjin sighs & shakes his head. "Don't make me spit it out y/n, It's just gonna sound like a lie to you." You get an anxious feeling in your belly before taking his chin & guiding him to look back up at you. "Hyunjin, just say it, it's only me here anyway. Just say what you gotta say." you respond in a quiet but firm voice, honestly scared.

He doesn't have much option but to look at you as he lets himself melt into your hand lightly before taking a deep breath. "I.. care about you? I don't know, it feels weird but like... I genuinely felt like shit after how I treated you n i've tried to bury it but it just won't leave, I don't really know what it is about you n honestly it scares me." he says in a quiet, quick tone & your jaw drops.

You just freeze as you both just look at each other in complete silence not including the quiet crackling of the candle & your living room clock ticking. Hyunjin can't bare the awkwardness anymore as he gets shy for the first time in years, moving his arms to stand completely upright but you pull him in by the shirt to hug him, tears threatening to leave your eyes as his arms wrap around you in return.

"This better not be some sort of sick joke Hyunjin or i swear I'll kill you, you're gonna boost my ego to a fraction of what yours is." you half laugh as he nuzzles his face into your neck, inhaling your sweet smell. "It's not, dead serious. You're just different n I don't know how to feel about it, stop casting spells to make me attached to you. I've been itching to ask to see you all week, I wish I wasn't being so stubborn." he muffles into your neck, moving his head side to side slightly, his nose tickling your neck, making you lean more into him, chuckling at his stupid joke.

"Stop with the silly magic jokes, you're ridiculous. I want to say you're not forgiven since you need to prove to me you're not talking out your ass but I do accept your indeed heart warming apology & I appreciate it just more than the flowers n chocolate." you say in a soft voice & you feel Hyunjin smile against your neck before he moves & kisses the tip of your nose, smiling like a Cheshire cat.

"That's what I wanted to hear, I wouldn't be able to handle it if you had told me to fuck off, my first ever rejection coming from the first person I've ever bought a present for that isn't my mom." You chuckle at this before hopping off the counter, grabbing the box of chocolates that were staring at you.

"Rejection? You tryna say you like meee?" you tease, taking his hands before swaying them back & forth & he rolls his eyes, chuckling. "Was it not kinda obvious? I wanted to say it without directly saying it in case I embarrassed myself but... yeahhh I have a tiny crush, I think you made us soul tied or something." you just 'tut' at his remark but your face goes bright red at his confession, cheeks hurting from how much you're smiling.

"I'm touched. Got thee famous playboy hwang Hyunjin to like like me, not sure if it's a surprise but I like you too." You kiss his cheek before leading him to the couch as you sit on it, him flopping next to you. "Enough of the soppy talk for now or I'll get embarrassed, you can choose a movie while I get us a blanket." He just nods & you hand him the box of chocolates & he begins opening them as you scurry to your room to get your favourite fluffy blankets.

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You both end up watching a recommended Netflix romcom suggestion, both of you devouring your chocolates but you pay no mind to it.

Some point throughout, your legs end up swung over his as your head lays against his shoulder, him stroking your hair with one hand as the other hand caresses your thigh.

Every few minutes or so, you focus less on the movie & more on his touch as his hand slowly rises up your leg, then your thigh & his hand is now grazing against your inner thigh over your tight shorts, giving you goosebumps, which he doesn't miss.

This continues up until Hyunjin repositions himself, pushing your legs off him so he can lay down over your thighs, his view now sideways of the TV, not that he cares, not paying the slightest bit of attention anyway as you momentarily tense up beneath him.

You continue stroking his hair, sometimes digging your fingers into his scalp a bit to scratch it, making him let out a satisfied hum. You can't help but keep looking down at the beautiful man laying on you & you can't help but smile to yourself.

As if he can feel your eyes burning into his skull, he moves the blanket down your legs enough to expose your legs enough for him to begin planting little pecks on them, slightly tickilish but you don't miss the wetness now pooling under your shorts. "Stop teasing Hyune." you speak up, your voice quiet & he just chuckles.

"If you don't want me to tease, I won't complain if you lay back." he replies, not bothering to look up at you as his hand reaches to squeeze your thigh softly as he keeps giving your legs kisses, suckling at them slightly,

You think about what he says & you would be stupid to deny the chance, your pussy clenching around nothing. You lightly push his head up off you & he takes the hint, moving & you push the side of his arm, towards the edge of the couch & he looks at you slightly confused but does what he thinks you're hinting at, getting onto the floor right in front of you, looking up at you with his pretty eyes.

You give him a shy smile before you take it upon yourself to wriggle your shorts & underwear off, leaving your bottom half completely nude, biting your lip in anticipation.

"You really got this desperate since last time I saw you?" he teases & you put your hand in front of your cunt, covering it with how shy you've just started feeling but he is quick to pull it back off, looking at the small shimmer on your middle finger before licking it off in one go.

"Don't be shy, gorgeous. I've been just as desperate if not more, can I get a taste?" he says in a sweet voice, not looking away from you, stars in his eyes. "Please.. If you want to." you respond, hiding your face in your hands but he reaches up & swats your hands away yet again as his other hand begins to slowly drag through your folds, making your hips buck.

"Stop hiding, where's your confidence gone hmm? Do I make you that nervous? trust me, there's nothing I want more." he leans in & kisses right next to your lip before smirking at you & sinking back down onto the floor, blowing cold air onto your now soaking cunt, making your legs tense up & he tongues his cheek as he watches your face twitch.

He spreads your folds open, getting a better view of your hole, clenching around nothing before he licks a long, slow strip from your hole to the top of your clit, letting out a low groan in the process. "Taste better than anything y/n, I fucking swear." he says as he looks up at you for a split second. "eyes on me, if you look away I'll stop." he voices before digging in.

You do as he says & make eye contact with him as his mouth latches onto your cunt as he begins letting spit roll off his tongue, mixing with your juices just before slurping it back up, not afraid to make as much noise as the mixes of juices allow.

You weave your hand in his hair & play with his hair & scratch his scalp for him as he suctions his tongue onto your swollen button, both of you groaning at the same time.

"Hyune, so good" you whimper out, your breath shaky as your eyes struggle to stay open & you feel Hyunjin smile against you. He brings his fingers up to your clit before rubbing it in a steady rhythm as he lets go of before his tongue find its way into your opening before beginning to tongue fuck you & you throw your head back, your moans now louder than the TV still playing behind the both of you, your legs now closing around his head, not that he pays attention to that anyway, if anything he is enjoying it.

You begin to clench around his tongue which he remembers is your tell tail sign you're about to orgasm, your moans getting higher pitched & your grip on his hair getting tighter & he chooses to worm his tongue out of your hole before pinching your clit between his two fingers & dropping a glob of spit to it before giving it one more lick, smirking.

"I wanna try something I think you might like, turn over so you're facing your back to me, hunny." You huff at the beginning of a future orgasm beginning to appear suddenly bubbling away but you do as he says, slightly confused.

You get up on your knees & rest your elbows on the back of the couch, you now looking at the wall behind you. "Why am I fac-" you're cut off as Hyunjin spreads your cheeks & begins fondling them as he begins suckling on your pussy from behind, letting out a satisfied hum behind you as you begin kneading the couch until your fingers begin to ache, biting your lip to try hold back moans.

"G-gonna cum Hyunjin, keep g-going." you whimper, pushing yourself into his face, seeking even more from him if it's even possible & he gives you a quick slap on your ass as he removes himself from your cunt again, much to his own displeasure.

"Don't bite your lip y/nnie, I wanna hear you fully, Mkay?" he speaks from behind you as you yelp at the impact & he hums as he keeps kneading your ass, giving it a few kisses. "Your ass is to die for, you know that? Gonna taste it." Before you can even process what he says, your mind too full of lust to understand, he is letting a glob of spit fall past his lips & it landing right on your tightest hole.

You try jerk your hips away from him but he is quicker & pulls you back to him, keeping a tighter grip on your ass, keeping it spread as his tongue begins to graze over your pretty pucker, his eyes scrunching together as he smiles against you, tongue now drawing patterns on it as he lets go of one of your ass cheeks, going down to your leaking cunt again before entering two fingers, instantly finding the same G-spot that made you orgasm only a week or so ago.

Your hips buck at the new sensation & you let out a long mewl, letting your face fall onto the back of the couch as your knuckles turn white from how hard you're clenching on it.

Your pretty hole is clenching & pulsating on his tongue as he lets out a deep growl at your taste, so different compared to your cunt but still enjoyable, you're moans getting to an even higher pitch as his tongue enter inside you, swirling around as much as the tight ring will allow.

"Hyun- please l-let me cum, s-so- fuck!" you basically scream out, not even being able to find the strength to lift your head up to look at the man behind you as your pussy & ass clench around his fingers & tongue but right before you cum, Hyunjin pulls completely away, again & your legs shake from the painful pleasure of yet another stolen orgasm.

Hyunjin leans over so his clothed chest is touching your back & he tilts your head so he can see your pretty face & he sees your now tear soaked cheeks & your pretty, glossy eyes.

"Awww, pretty girl couldn't contain their tears, could you? I promise you can cum now, I don't have a condom on me though beautiful so do you just want my fingers hmm? or my tongue?" he questions as he strokes your now damp hair out of your face, pouting at you.

"J-just fuck me Hyune, j-just pull out." you whiimper back to him, your breath so unstable it's difficult to even push the words out. Hyunjin opens his mouth to re ask you, just to make sure he is hearing things right but you wiggle your naked ass against him & he bucks his hips before just nodding before kissing your shoulder & then shimmying his pants & underwear down, freeing his pretty cock.

He spits onto his cock, pumping it into his hand a few times, letting out a hushed groan before he aligns his tip with your pussy, rubbing himself against it a few times to coat his tip in your juices before prodding his tip against your hole, before pushing just the tip inside.

"I'm still gonna be gentle, it's only your second time, tell me if this position is uncomfortable." he speaks behind you & as you mumble out an 'okay' while your face now being mushed against the cushion again, he pushes his hips forward very slowly until he buries himself to the hilt, you both letting out a moan in unison.

He stills inside you, trying to not cum instantly from how hot your walls feel without the restriction of the condom he wore last time, his hands coming to rest on your hips as he waits for your signal to continue.

Your breath staggers as he pushes forward, the stretch being a bit painful but no way near as painful as last time & after a minute or so, you push yourself on his cock experimentally, making you both hiss.

"You- please move, mak-make me cum Hyune, p-please." you elongate the last word, turning your head to the side so he can actually hear you. He takes a deep breath & pulls out half way before pushing back in, the both of you letting out a whine as his balls slap against your clit, making it even more intense for you.

Hyunjin sets a steady rhythm, lightly using the tips of his finger nails to add sensation to your back, tickling it but also feeling nice as you know it will leave those pretty little red marks later on. Both of your moans & whines fill the small apartment, not even thinking about how your neighbours can one hundred percent hear you.

"Y/n yo-you're too tight, s-so warm." he breathes out, lifting his leg & standing it on the couch for a better angle as he keeps rutting into you, leaning over your back again to kiss your cheek, your moans going straight into his ears.

"To- so big hy-hyune, pleas-e lemme c-cum." you whimper, your eyes scrunching closed, the ends of Hyunjins hair tickling your face as he begins to nibble on your earlobe, your cunt clenching impossibly tight around his cock, almost suffocating it.

"c-cum with me baby, h-hold on for me." he groan back as he tilts his neck into an uncomfortable position just so he can kiss your lips. His tongue instantly enters your mouth & you suckle on it, tasting the remaining taste of your juices from what he hasn't already repeatedly swallowed, making you moan in content.

Hyunjin speeds up his pace slightly & your G-spot loves this, making your legs almost give out on the spot as your brain turns into mush. "I-in my s-stomach Hyun-deep." you babble out against his lips, barely even knowing your own name at this point.

As Hyunjin stands back upright after giving your shoulder a few pecks, his phone begins to ring. Your eyes spot his phone on the other end of the couch, where he was sitting earlier but he reaches over & declines it before shutting his phone completely off, throwing it to the side, his pace not slowing once.

You don't bother questioning it, instead focusing on the noises of your slick & his balls connecting together mixed with the sweat of the both of you, sloppy clapping noises of your skin connecting filling the room, your legs begin to give out as Hyunjin worms his fingers down to your clit yet again before rubbing it frantically.

"In your s-stomach hmm? You can cum for me angel, n-not gonna last, too w-wet n tight." he squabbles, breathing frantically & this i all you need to hear as your entire body tenses up as finally, your orgasm hits you like a brick wall & you let out a squeal & Hyunjin has to grip onto your hips as his life depend on it in order for you to not flop & slip off the couch.

Your noises & the way your pussy flutters around him is just too much for him to handle & as much as he doesn't want to, he pulls himself out of your wet, hot walls as his cum spurts down your ass & back, throwing his head back as his cock quite literally pulsates as his balls empty, a high pitched whimper leaving his lips, breathing staggered.

He comes back to his body quicker than you do & he helps reposition you so you're fully laying on the couch, trying to make sure his cum doesn't get onto any other surface.

He grabs his underwear & wipes the cum off your back in a comfortable silence, slightly twitching as he wipes it off. He leans over your back again before kissing your earlobe. "Did so well, so proud of you, still so pretty for me despite being sticky with sweat." you both weakly laugh as you turn onto your back before using the ounce of strength you have left to pull on his wrist.

"cuddle." is all you say as you pull on him until he lays on top of you, half his weight dangling off the arm of the couch as he lays his head on your chest, listening to your still racing heartbeat & he can't help but feel secure.

⭑･ﾟﾟ･:༅｡.｡༅:ﾟ::✼✿　　✿✼:ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑

You both sit like this for a while, talking to one another about what you both spoke about in a bit more detail & also just talk to each other about things you don't know about one another, things like family pets, favourite colours, favourite brands etc.

Hyunjin ends up powering his phone back on & you are both just scrolling through his for you page, when you remember his phone ringing. "Quick question hyune, who was it that called you? If it was important you coulda stopped to answer." you ask him, not lifting your eyes from the video playing on his phone screen, not really thinking too much of it.

"Don't stress it, it was just someone I'm not gonna be speaking to anymore." he replies in s tired voice, still scrolling. His reply slightly confusing you. "Who? I don't mean to be nosey or anything but now i'm curious." you respond back, your fingers in his hair now pausing.

Without saying anything, he switches apps, onto his call log & it's Lisas name at the top.. nineteen missed calls. He just sighs as he presses on the 'more' option before deleting her number & deleting the Imessage conversation without even bothering to read her spam of texts, yelling, crying & cussing him out before switching apps back onto tiktok without saying a word & you just blush, your hands cupping his cheeks from above, your thumbs just below his eyes.

"You're cute." you say as you squeeze them playfully & he just 'tut's but still, he melts himself into your touch.

I'm not completely sure if I want to leave this story as a two parter orrrrrr do a third n final part but to everyone wanting a happier ending here you all are!

Tags: @troublemaker02 @ismokeeweed @lmhcats @isagerada @tsunderelino

#hyunjin skz #hyunjin smut #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin #skz smut #stray kids #straykids x reader #straykids #stray kids smut #skz fanfic #skz fluff #skz x reader #skz #skz hyunjin #smut #kpop smut #fanfic

[redbleedingrose]

will you write exhusband!rhys? 🥹🥹

Cant promise it will be any good bookie, but for you?? Why not?

Ex Husband!Rhysand x Reader

Okay so, basically, the only reason why Rhysand agreed to a divorce in the first place is cuz he thought you were being a silly goofy girly pop, this is just a phase right?

Everyone goes through marriage issues. He knows that. So he signs the papers. Because they are just papers and you are still his wife.

He still wears his wedding rings at all times, and he feels a spark in his heart every time he sees you still wearing yours. He is as in love with you as he has ever been, and continues to fall deeper and deeper in love with you every day.

Your time apart from each other under the mountain did little to deter his feelings for you. Whether you like it or not, the night courts high lord is here to stay for you. You are his high lady of course.

So when you ask him to separate your belongings so you can move into a little cottage by the Sidra, he huffs a little sigh with an eye roll, but lets his silly little wife do as she pleases. Because he adores you, and wants to indulge you in your little game.

You won't know that he is buying the house you will live in and is already making renovations to it already to make it more comfortable for you. Renovations including your own private library and a water fountain garden with water that sparkles as the sun sets.

And you certainly won't know that he is getting the little cabin just down the way from your new house so that he can watch over you and anyone else who comes by.

Anyway, his wooing of you never stops. Not even through this silly little divorce game you are playing. He is constantly bringing you flowers, your favorite kind, fresh and in beautifully designed bouquets. Your entire new home is tittering with these flowers, and all the old ones are drying because honestly, you cant bare to part with something your ex husband who you still so dearly love brought for you.

And don't get me started on the other gifts he brings you, brand new clothes from your favorite boutique, specially designed and fitted just for you. He cannot wait to see you wearing them when you take your daily walk together through Velaris that he has convinced you to go on. Just to ensure the citizens that you are still a stable court. Yes, that is the only reason. Simply and only that. And also new jewelry that he spent hours designing with your favorite jeweler, with specifically picked gems from the deep mountain mines buried in the depths of the court that only his keen eye can pick out.

Oh and if your silly little game starts to get more dramatic with you going out on another date with some other male or female??? Well, Rhysand knows how to play games. And he will beat you at this one little darling.

Your moves from now will end up with your ass spanked a bright red with his imprints left behind making it difficult for you to sit down for a solid week after you reconcile with him :(((

And that male you went out with last weekend?

You never see or hear from him again.

And it's weird because you thought you guys had a good time together. He was even discussing going out with you again later next week. Oh well :// ??

Your Rhysie is back at it again coaxing you into going out with him. It's not working but damn are you feeling tempted after the way he fucked you the day after your date. I mean how could he help it? And how could you help yourself?

With the way he was looming at your entryway when your date dropped you off... with the way the darkness of night was rolling from his taut shoulders, with the way his tunic was nearly bursting at the seams with his arms crossed over his broad chest... with the way his churning glare pierced your soul, nearly killed the poor male who had leaned in to press a soft kiss to your cheek but quickly snatched himself away, murmuring a hurried goodbye before running off.

He barely had you inside the doorway before you were caged into the wall with heated, fierce kisses and roaming hands squeezing and groping at your soft edges. Those violet eyes forced eye contact as he had you cumming on his fingers and tongue 4 times before he graced you with his cock. You did not get ANY rest that night.

But yeah no, it doesn't make any sense as to where that male had gone. But Rhysand just tells you not to worry your pretty mind about it, that your husband is going to take care of all your needs darling, "you don't need any other male to be touching your stunning body, only me love, only your husband." Chuckling darkly when you whine at him, "Ex husband Rhys, you're forgetting the ex part" and weakly pull at his wandering fingers, squirming in his tight hold as his front presses directly against your behind, nearly falling to your knees when you feel the softest pecks along the length of your neck.

And well…. how can you help yourself? Rhys is just too good at making you feel good.

It's not your fault he has you nearly trained to cum on command. It's not your fault he is quietly slipping into your mind, feeding it dirty thoughts and images on how he used to take you. How he used to bend you over every piece of furniture or how he could have you cumming in 30 seconds just by his middle finger and thumb alone or how his thigh felt so so good rutting against your cunt when he edged you or how he just gets so deep in you, cock nudging and sliding against spots you didn't even know existed in you.

You're just a silly little wife who was a bit jealous of some girl named whose name Rhysie can't even remember, something bout her saving Prythian from Amarantha??

Rhys really couldn't care less though, the only female he knows and thinks of is you.

And don't you worry darling. The minute you finally agree to try again with Rhys, he flys you to nearest temple, the marriage "reinstatement" ceremony was only for your little mind to be put at ease.

Besides, he never let your divorce papers go past that one horrid priestess who had actually agreed to notarize it. In fact, the priestess was… well….

Let's just say he took great care in ensuring that no one else would ever even suggest on agreeing to such a mistake again. The bone carver was quite pleased with his new… assortment of skeletal remains the high lord of night gifted him in exchange for a future favor. Such innocent and pure bones from an old priestess are hard to come by these days!!!

And the weaver enjoyed some eyeball soup from Rhys. And don't you worry, Az and Cass helped dismember that old ratty priestess with their brother. They supported Rhys heavily and would not stop at one... or maybe two souls being taken.

Anyway!!! We love a delulu Rhys 🩷💋😍🥰

Rhysand Masterlist

#rhysand x reader #rhysand acotar #rhysand fanfic #rhys acotar #rhys fanfic #rose writes #acotar fanfic #acotar drabbles #acotar headcanons #high lord rhysand #acotar #rhysand

[newluvrs]

Anton ₊ ⊹₍ᐢᐢ₎  mdni!! 18+ currently listening to: CRUSH - UNFLIRT word count: 3.2k bb note: shoutout to the last 1 min of this song... dpr supremacy

In the early hours of the morning, wrapped in the long limbs of your boyfriend you come to a realization.  Nothing in the world could make your heart glow as softly as it did when you were with him.  Before you met him you weren’t necessarily insecure.  You knew you were pretty, maybe in an unconventional sense, but regardless you knew your beauty was there.  Your biggest insecurity being that you felt like you lacked a certain softness, a certain gentleness that the rest of your friends seemed to hold.  Baggy clothing and dark tones making up a majority of your wardrobe not exactly screaming feminine to you.  You tell yourself you wouldn’t trade it for the world, that you were comfortable with your body and the way you chose to express your femininity.  But you would be lying if you said you didn’t wish you could be different sometimes.  

When Anton came into your life, you immediately knew he liked you, and you liked him.  Fitting him into your life felt like the most natural thing in the world.  The way in which you started scheduling time for him between classes, or pre-emptively ordering his favorite drink when you went to the café on campus, or how bits of him have slowly started to make themselves apparent in your apartment.  A toothbrush kept for him on your bathroom counter, a drawer reserved for him and his just-in-case clothing, the scent of his cologne lingering on your bed sheets.  You had had boyfriends in the past, but everything with him just felt so natural, so easy.  

With him you didn’t feel like you had to hide anything.  With him everything you did felt desirable.  He let you know you were pretty as you did the most mundane things.  Pulling you into a kiss right after you applied your lip balm.  Kissing the back of your neck as you toy with the clasp to your necklace.  Wrapping his arms around you, pressing himself into your backside as you do your skincare routine.  He was obsessed and you were in love. 

The one downside to this being: if he found everything you did to be desirable, that means everything you did made him hard.  He was embarrassed and apologetic at first, face bright red at the fact that he just got hard from watching you do your post shower routine.  But honestly you just found it hot.  To you there was nothing to be embarrassed about, it just made him unbelievably endearing.  The first time it happened you kissed him through all of his apologies as you stuck a hand down his pants, basking in the sounds he made as he came.  You had no idea that this would be a frequent occurrence, but you would be lying if you said you hated it.  

He stirs next to you now, sighing sleepily as he pushes his hand up your shirt, his massive hand splayed on your tummy.  You’re grateful for the slowness of the morning, having spent the last several days with the both of you waking up and going to sleep at odd hours in an attempt to be prepared for your final exams.  With your back to his chest, you just lay there waiting for him to come to, absentmindedly playing with his fingers, quietly humming to yourself.  He adjusts his placement behind you, pulling you tighter to him as he places a kiss on your shoulder.  It would be a sweet moment if it weren’t for the prominent bulge against your ass.  You try not to laugh at him for it, choosing instead to ignore it.  Or at least you tried to, until he pulled you against him again but this time shifting his hips as he does so before placing a leg between yours.  The placement of his leg against your cunt combined with the occasional kisses being left on your neck leave you feeling a little restless.  You try and move to slip away from him, but all you end up doing is pressing yourself further into him, making him shift his hips against you again, you letting out a soft sigh as he does so.

“Stop squirming.”  

“Then stop pressing your hard on into me??” 

He lets out a groan as he tightens his hold around you, curling into you as he mumbles against your hair.

“I was trying to be sweet.. you ruined it.”  

You could practically hear the pout on his lips, rolling your eyes at his dramatics.  

“If you’re gonna say that at least act like you aren’t totally humping me right now.”  

And its true, he’s gone from subtle pushes against you to full on grinding, a hand placed on your waist fingers digging into your sides as he huffs from behind you.  

“’s your fault.. you’re just so soft and sweet.”  

To emphasize his point he trails a hand up from your waist to grab at your tit, rolling a nipple between his fingers.  Your body arches against him at the contact, trying to grind back onto him.  Noticing this he moves back to your waist, pulling you down against the leg still slotted between yours as he presses kisses to your jawline.  You can feel the hard outline of his cock through the fabric that separates the both of you, and you’re so grateful that the both of you passed out in just boxers.  The way the pressure of his leg feels against your cunt makes you sigh, the pleasure satisfying with each push and pull.  It’s starting to get hot under your comforter, and you can feel how sticky you’re getting with each push against him, growing wetter by the minute.  

Reluctantly you pull away from him, doing your best to detach yourself from his still-moving hips and death grip on your sides.  You choose instead to turn to look at him for the first time this morning and you’re met with the prettiest sight.  His dark hair is messy over his eyes, all fucked up from sleep.  A light blush is dusting his cheeks as he lets out little pants and just as you suspected, his pretty lips are pulled into a pout.  You feel so lucky to be the only person who gets to see him this way.  You feel even luckier that he makes you feel so wanted.  Lucky that he’s here with you, in your bed, tangled in your sheets, and horny because of you.  So deeply in love with you in all your ratty t-shirt, barefaced, boxer-wearing glory.  

Before he can question why you pulled away, you’re kissing him, lips locked with his as he places a hand on the back of your neck to keep you in place.  The way he gasps into your mouth as you slide a hand over his boxers feels correct.  You pull away from the kiss as you palm him, watching the way he closes his eyes and tosses his head back into your soft pillows.  He wraps a hand around your wrist to keep your hand still as he grinds up into it, and you smile at how cute he is when he whines.  If you were meaner you would pull your hand away to see the way he chases you, but the way he looks right now is just too heavenly.

“Fuck y/n, feels so good.”  

You just let out a hum at his reaction before you pull your hand away too soon, much to his discontent.  When he opens his eyes he just barely catches as you lick your palm before sticking your hand under his waistband, making direct contact with his hard cock.  His reaction is immediate, bucking his hips up into your hand as you slowly start to jerk him off.  He tosses an arm across his face, groaning out into the stillness of your bedroom as you press gentle kisses against his throat.  

“feel good?”  

“mhm.” 

Content with his answer, you move to lie against his chest, just resting your head against him as he fucks your hand.  It’s sweet and slow, this moment that you share.  It’s only interrupted when his moans start to take on a whinier pitch as he starts to push at your hand still wrapped around him.

“Y/n fuck, wait- don’t want to cum yet.”  

Slowly you come to a stop, pulling away from him even as he subconsciously tries to push against you again at the loss of contact.  When you sit up to look at him he looks sheepish, trying to keep up the façade of innocence like he wasn’t just fucking your hand.  Instead of pressing him about it, you let him lay you down, pulling you into a kiss as he does exactly what you just did to him, mirroring the way you slipped a hand into his shorts.  He slides 2 fingers through your wetness before slowly pushing them into you, shallowly thrusting them inside you until your walls start to let him in.  His palm grinds against your clit as he rubs at your walls, pulling away from making out with you so he can push your shirt over your chest.  Leaving open-mouthed kisses against your tits before he sucks one into his mouth, nipping at it occasionally as he finger fucks you.  All you can do is lie there and take it as you gasp into the air.  You want so badly to keep your eyes open so you can see him and how pretty he looks when he pleases you but it just feels too good.   He pulls away from your chest to watch how you react to what he gives you, cock aching in his boxers at the sight.  

“You’re so pretty baby.. I could watch you forever.” 

You feel warm inside at his words, turning to hide your face from his gaze so he can’t see the way your face is starting to redden.  It’s all in vain though because he slides his fingers out of you, grabbing your jaw to kiss you using the same hand that was just inside of you.  You have half a mind to feel even more embarrassed but its just so hot.  The kisses getting messier as both of you succumb to your desire.  Your lips swollen from the way he pulls away to occasionally nip at them before pressing his mouth against yours again.  When you start to pull on his shirt he gets the hint, breaking away from you to pull it over his head.  He tosses it somewhere on your bedroom floor before pulling yours off as well, leaving kisses on your chest with each piece of skin that gets revealed.  

It's so intimate when he goes back to kissing you, your bare chest pressed to his as you cling on to his broad shoulders.  The skin-to-skin contact makes you dizzy, throat going dry at the vulnerability of it all.  Soon enough you start to want more and he can tell, the change evident in the way you start to squirm for some semblance of relief.  He kisses you one last time before sitting up, reveling in the way you try to chase his lips.  

“How do you want it?” 

He says it so nonchalantly like he’s ordering from a takeout menu, as if the two of you aren’t naked from the waist up.  

“Mmm… I think I want to be face down today.”  

It only takes you a moment to contemplate, feeling like you’re not willing to leave the comfort of your pillows right now.  

He smiles at you, a quiet “okay” leaving his lips as he moves to grab a condom from your bedside drawer.  You turn to lay your chest against the mattress, bringing your pillows around you so you’re more comfortable.  You make a point to leave your boxer-shorts on, knowing that he likes to be the one to take them off, he’s such a boy in that way.  Admiring him from afar, you watch quietly as he pulls his own off, sending him a wink when he catches your gaze making him offer you a shy smile.  He positions himself behind you, rolling the condom on as he does so, lip bit in concentration.  

When he’s finally ready, he leans down to give you a kiss before rubbing at your waist, watching how goosebumps arrive in the wake of his cold hands.  Finally, he’s pulling your underwear off, mumbling a quiet “fuck” to himself once the entirety of you is on display.  You know he likes to take his time to look at you so you let him, feeling as his fingers go to play with you more.  He smears your wetness over your pussy, lithe fingers toying with your clit.  A groan leaving him when he watches the way you throb, growing wetter from the minimal contact.  Slowly, he eases 3 fingers into you, your body accommodating the additional stretch easily.  You feel so warm wrapped around him, your soft walls clenching sporadically.  He’s just so fascinated by your pussy, call it the boy in him but he just can’t help himself.  When you start to whine he breaks his trance, taking the hint without you having to say anything.  

“Sorry baby got distracted, you’re too cute.”  

You don’t respond, just pushing yourself back into him, feeling greedy now.  He takes the wetness collected from you and smears it up and down his cock before lining himself up with you.  You both hold your breath as he pushes himself into you and its so slow.  He would never want to hurt you in any way, so no matter how wet you are he’ll always rub at your clit, a habit he picked up after your first couple of times together, mirroring what he saw you do.  In this position he knows he can’t until he’s bottomed out, so he’s pleased when he sees you bring your own fingers to your cunt, rubbing tight circles.  He feels reassured when you start to relax, opening up for him more as he brings a large hand to rub circles against your lower back in an attempt to soothe you.

When he finally bottoms out, his hips are pressed flush to yours.  If you could see him you would be able to see a light flush dusting his cheeks and chest.  And it’s all just so soft, the both of you breathless and he hasn’t even started fucking you yet.  He wishes he could kiss you but he knows you’re feeling lazy, and additionally he knows how intense your orgasms are in this position so he settles for pressing kisses along your spine, biting occasionally at the top of your shoulders.  

“Ton.. need you to move.”  

Your voice is whiny and breathless and he succumbs immediately, easing himself in and out, a slow push and pull.  It becomes apparent to him another reason why you wanted this position, so you could bury your face in your pillows when you get too loud.  He just started and already you’re whimpering and shaking with each stroke.  He places both hands on your waist so he can help pull you back against him, and he feels satisfied when your noises grow in volume, whines of “so deep” leaving you.  

There’s nothing wholesome about what’s partaking in this room, but regardless he’s so in love.  He loves the subtlety of your softness, and it makes his heart swell when he sees it grow in private, like you trust him enough to see these sides of you.  He would spend a lifetime between your legs if it meant he could convince you that you were perfect.  His heart stutters in his chest when you reach a hand behind your back in an attempt to grab his.  He does just this, but settles on placing his hands by your head, maneuvering you so your hand was interlaced with his by your face.  He fucking meltswhen you lift your face from the pillows just enough to leave kisses on his knuckles.  

“feels so good Ton, you’re fucking me so good.”  

“yeah baby? How’s it feel?” 

He loves that when you’re fucked out enough, all of your embarrassment flies out the window, your filter leaving you.  

“Can feel you so deep, it’s so perfect.  Feel so full.”  

He lets out a groan at your words, moving to fuck you with more purpose now, wanting to hear the way you cry out as you cum.  

“Can you play with my clit for me?” 

“Of course I can baby, don’t even have to ask.”  

You sound so whiny, he could die.  His heart breaks at the way you reluctantly let go of his hand, moving instead to grip at the pillows but immediately you forgive him when you start to feel him rub at your clit.  You aren’t gonna last much longer, and neither is he, you can tell by the way his movements are getting sloppier, his moans turning into whimpers.  He just fills you so good, you’re never gonna want anyone else.  When you feel the familiar tightening in your tummy, you let him know.  

“’m gonna cum.”  

“Okay baby, just let go for me.  Know you feel so good, go ahead and cum.”  

When you release, your hand reaches to grab at his still rubbing on your clit, trying to grind into it as he fucks you.  He drops his head to your shoulder blades to leave kisses, murmuring quiet praises to you as he fucks you through your high. Your orgasm is intense, lasting awhile as he chases his own high, and you make sure he can hear your clearly the entire time, gasping and whining into the open air to encourage him.  

The way you clench around him sends him over the edge, arms growing weak with the effort to keep himself up as he nearly collapses.  Wrapping his arms around you to bring you as close as possible, your back to his chest as he thrusts into you messily as he cums, filling the condom.  He bites at the top of your shoulders trying to conceal his whimpers as you lay there shaking in his arms, still on your own comedown.  

“So sweet and perfect y/n, feel so fucking good and soft.”

It’s like he’s in a trance as he says it, hips slowing down but still moving against you, moving to grip at your tits now as he slurs the words.  When he finally halts his movements, he brings a hand to your face, turning you to kiss him even with the awkward angle.  When you’re both done he finally collapses next to you, pulling you with him as he’s still inside you.  You’re both so sensitive, but it’s just warm and sweet.  

“Want to sleep like this?”

He leans up on an elbow and kisses at your cheek, moving to pull the duvet back over you as he asks. You just nod at him sleepily, content to just stay this way, too lazy to move but also wanting to stay in this moment longer.  

He leaves one last kiss on your lips before settling behind you once again, the same way you woke up.  With him completely wrapped around you, head tucked into the crevice of your neck.  As the two of you drift off, you wonder how such a sweet boy found his way into your life.  He wonders the same thing about you. 

#riize smut #anton smut #riize x reader #anton x reader #riize hard hours #riize #anton

[merakidoll]

Rock your body

synopsis ˚ෆ 𐙚 : short stories for some of your favorite Jujutsu kaisen men + Eren Yeager, with their bimbo lover at the gym

tags ˚ෆ 𐙚 :black chubby reader! bimbo reader! oral ( f and m ), backshots, sideways sex, ab riding. lots of cum, and pet name. won’t lie eren’s part is really miren and was for me sooo 🤗

mirah note ˚ෆ 𐙚 :hii! this was really fun, i hope you all enjoy! miren sneak peak at the end - BOWW 🎀 everyone thank sae for proof reading because if they didn’t no telling when this would be out!

✧.* Geto And Gojo - Planks !

like everything— the two boyfies found the gym and you as a competition. you were quite used to this actually, loving how competitive they got and how it was always a win for yourself!so, when they brought you down to the at home gym— telling you to lay on the pretty pink blanket and open your mouth, your little brain couldn’t process what was gonna happen. but you were sooo excited! “princess. me and gojo are gonna see who can do the longest plank while you suck our cocks, okay?” geto talked to you slowly, dumbing down his words so you could understand.

replying to his words with a big smile and glassy eyes. he knew— as always that you were one hundred percent on board. “who’s first, daddy?” the men looked between one another— gojo’s tight gym shorts falling to the ground as he got into position. geto crouched beside you both, watching his twink already have some effect just from your breath blowing over his cock. pressing start going sunk down into your throat, you automatically start gagging around him. your throat contracting against his tip with pre-cum coming out.

“o-oo fuck!” it was barely thirty seconds and gojo’s arms were trembling, dick jerking into your pretty mouth. once you got comfortable with the position and his length, you began to bob your head. spit and cum dripped down your chin as you focused on tasting him, while geto used his thumb to wipe a little of the mixed saliva from your mouth that was going to fall on your dress. he’s looking your in the eyes as he tastes the flavor groaning, head falling back the his hair coming out of the ponytail.

your pussy pulsated. cunt dripping at everything that was happening— mind so clouded with wanting to be touched while also pleasing your men. though, one minute in, gojo started to fuck your face; lewd moans and praises spouting from his mouth. icy blue eyes shut, him cursing to himself because he was close. “s-suck harder baby, righttt SHIT! thereee ohfuck! m’cumming! f-filling my pretty baby’s m-mouth!” you took all of his ropes like a big girl, small chokes from swallowing his cum— still sucking on his red tip. after the feeling has surpassed, gojo fell beside you heavily breathing with his limp cock.

“two minutes? you suck!” you pouted, overestimating gojo’s limits.

✧.* Choso - Push Ups And Pussy Eating !

“c-cho calm down!” your thighs were shaking so much it hurt. the man had been at it for hours, raising his body and lowering himself— using his tongue to bring you so so close then take it away, but the small up he had to do. right now, his tounge fucked in between your gummy walls. your hips pushing against his face making a mess over his pretty features, almost orgasming at the tip of his tongue. but once the feel of pressure bubbled within your stomach— it was taken away.

choso’s moving his face and going up, smirking as he hovered above you. “w-why?” you asked, glossy eyes so doey and sad that it did something to his cock. instead of answering you, he went back down between your legs. softly kissing your thighs before he continued his teasing. but one small kiss to your clit— and he knew there would be no more going back up. choso started to devour your cunt. small tugs at your clits that he let go and licked his way down to your hole that dripped on the gym mat.

he pat himself on the back for his at home gym as he made you fuck him back. pushing your body up and down so he’d slide in and out of your cunt gently. you both were applauded by how much you creamed against his tonguy— his face, along with his mat getting drenched while your body felt like it was on fire.

“what’s next sweetpea? let’s see what we can do while daddy does jumping jacks.”

✧.* Nanami - Squats While Fucking !

his grunts went all throughout the empty gym. you two were actually playing a really dangerous game, but that was all a part of the fun! “you there baby?” nanami’s soothing deep voice whispered in your ear. you could only moan, spit all over the white beater that was drenched in his sweat.

was it weird to say his sweat didn’t taste so bad?

his knees buckled as he went down for another set of ten. his legs muscles flexing as the squat burned him in a delicious way— but the way you bounced on his cock had to be better.

“s’big!” you said almost dreamily. nanami’s touching the sweet sensitive spot over and over which made you feel so foggy. your pussy clamped down on him, as he went down for his final stretch. your hands shaking, pulling at his blond roots— pussy squirting out all of what he made of you. you could only whimper against his neck as his own release was not far fetched. the feeling of getting your cunt stuffed made you daydream about all of the babies you could have for your nana.

“what a good girl for me baby, daddy won’t let that go unnoticed.”

✧.* Toji - Tricep Dips And Backshots !

“f-fourteen!” it was so hard counting exactly how many dips toji was doing— but fuck. the way his pelvis hit your ass brought back your memory. his balls slapped against your cunt lips— your slick dripping down yours and his which ultimately helped his rhythm. toji’s body burned, legs hurting to the point he wanted to tap out. already on his third set of 20’s, but the way your pussy sucked him in had him thinking differently. your cunt clenched around him, your shaky breaks and pushing at his muscular chest to give you one second to gather yourself.

“no, you’re a big girl, take. it.” you could only cry looking up at the gym walls. “f-fourteen nono si-“

“awe, done fucked my baby so dumb.”

✧.* Sukuna - Ab Riding And Weights !

what you were participating in was something that was very dangerous, and of course it had to be sukuna’s idea. while the cool air of his gym blew on your body, you sat on top of him— his abs to be exact. “keep going darlin’ giving daddy the fuel.” he winked at you before lifting the weight again, and that’s when you started to buck your hips. the slick that was there from you cumming once before helping you.

your clit sensitive yet throbbing, your hands pressed against his beefy chest— nails making small scratches because you needed to hold something. “t-too much!” you whined still bucking into his defined body that was making pleasure too much. sukuna finally put down the weight, navigating his hands to your waist and taking over.

“pretty baby just needed daddy’s help.” his cock was hard against the gym shorts from you looking so desperate. your nipples were pretty and hard, that he had to use one hand to play with them. “like that?” he asked, knowing that you loved it. so much that you couldn’t even ask to cum, falling forward as your pussy throbbed. your cream making yet another mess and your face buried deep into his neck as salty tears fell on his skin.

“unt oh. did you ask to cum baby?”

✧.* Eren - Clamshells *MIREN SPECIAL*

“mmm you there bunny?” your babbles and incoherent words made eren chuckle to himself. who know that he could have his cake and eat it too. working out was a stress relief for him, the adrenaline shooting throughout his veins and he would use the rest of the pent up energy on you.

but now he was having a two for one.

while the band was binding his leg, his cock was deep inside of you. you both side ways, eren’s body multitasking: pumping, and doing his leg exercises. you on the other hand felt like you could faint. your pussy so stuffed, and it feeling so so good. your eyes felt crossed, vision blurring as you could feel the mind blowing orgasm at peak.

“p-puppyyy! m’there” you warned, your hole clenching repeatedly until your forbidden juices cotated his pretty length. eren groaned, kissing your forehead to give himself motivation to hold out. he was on his last set; so close. and when he finally reached fifteen he fell onto his back and lifted you on top of him as if you weighed nothing.

“good fuckin’ girl for papa baby” he fucked into you, chasing his high; your nails digging into your palm, trying to contain the screams of pleasure.

“daddy needs you here more often mama”

#— writings! #geto suguru x black reader #gojo satoru smut #choso kamo smut #nanami kento smut #toji fushiguro smut #sukuna ryoumen smut #eren yeager smut #eren smut #jjk x black reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x black reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #aot x black reader #aot x chubby reader #jjk x chubby reader #aot x reader #aot smut #attack on titan x black reader #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan smut #anime x chubby reader #anime smut #anime x black!reader

[exhaslo]

the sex pollen story.. Can we get a part two please? 🤭 that made story me blush like crazy 🤭🤭🤭🤭

Sure!

Part 1

Warning: MINORS DNI, Smut, overstimulation, creampie, Sub!Miguel, oral (m-receiving), bondage, riding

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Revenge was so oh sweet.

You had been waiting for this day to come ever since that incident between you, Miguel and the sex pollen. As great of a night that was, your pride couldn't stand having such a weak moment. Your ego thrown out the window as you cried and begged Miguel to help you.

No.

You had to get revenge, and you finally got it.

As much as you would love to take credit for having Miguel the state that he was in, you couldn't. Lyla and Miguel made sure to get rid of anything involving the pollen from the first incident. As Miguel made sure to block your access from returning to that world where it happened.

How Miguel got in this situation, was quite entertaining. He had entered a different world and ended up getting hit with a similar sex pollen.

"(Y/N), stop staring," Miguel hissed lowly as he sat against the wall. You cooed softly, hovering over him,

"Awe, you had me beg so much last time," You chuckled, bending down and stroking your boyfriend's chin, "Can't I have the same treatment?"

"It hurts," Miguel groaned, wincing as his suit disappeared.

You gave him a slight pout before deciding to tease him. You stroked your finger down his chest to his cock, watching it twitch from your slight touch. Miguel's low grunts and groans were so sexy, you wanted to hear more.

"I guess I can help you, but-"

You gave Miguel a tender kiss before webbing his arms together. He tried to argue but you kept stroking his dick nice and slow. Precum coating your hand as Miguel whined.

"(Y/N)!" Miguel groaned. You hummed lowly,

"I'm just having fun, Miggy. Don't worry, I don't you suffer. I'll treat you just as good as you treated me~"

Now that Miguel was tied up, you decided to have your fun. You bend down and proceeded to lick and stoke against Miguel's cock. Watching him twitch and squirm was so delicious. You hummed in response before licking his tip.

"Hn!" Miguel groaned as he cam.

With a lick of your lips, you wiped your face of his cum. Miguel was a panting mess as he quietly begged you for relief. How could you say no to such a plea? Returning to his harden cock, you engulfed your mouth around his length, sucking him off.

Miguel lifted his hips, moaning as you pleasured him. There was no sign of Miguel calming down. His dick twitched with every swirl of your tongue, enjoying the warmth of your mouth. The bitter taste of his cum hitting the back of your throat as you felt your own sex grow hot and wet.

With another load of cum unloading on you, you swallowed hard. Wiping your lips, you looked at your boyfriend's lustful gaze. How you were loving this. Miguel flinched and shuddered as you stroked his dick once more, pressing against his tip,

"(Y-Y/N), s-stop playing around." Miguel groaned. You leaned forward to kiss him as your fingers squeezed and stroked his cock,

"Are you getting sensitive already?" You asked with a small whine, "I suppose you've been good."

Undoing your suit, you tried to ignore the glow in his eyes as he saw your wet core. You placed your hand against his face, only for Miguel to lick and bite against you softly.

Setting yourself above Miguel, you cooed and moaned as you inserted his dick inside you. His hot, thick cock, twitching already, begging to fill you right upon entry. As tempted as you were to give in, you had to keep getting your revenge.

With a small gasp, you moved your hips and started to ride Miguel. Your arms wrapping around his neck as you rolled your hips against his, enjoying the tip of his cock kissing your cervix with each bounce you did.

"Shit, more, let me take over (Y/N)," Miguel groaned lowly. You shuddered as you clenched against him once he lifted his hips,

"I-I'm in control....h-here~ Ah~" You moaned, bouncing against him at a faster pace.

Miguel groaned and shuddered as he tried to lift his hips. You could feel his every attempt. Your body shivered in delight as Miguel unloaded inside you, his body shaking from overstimulation as you continued.

Fixing Miguel's messy hair, you kissed him hungrily as you kept your sloppy, yet fast pace. Your body was burning for more. Gripping Miguel's hair, you cried softly as you squeezed his cock, gushing all over him.

"(Y/N)." Miguel hissed.

With a gasp, you felt yourself pinned to the floor. Miguel broke out of his restraints, hovering over you. Within an instinct, he was balls deep, pounding your sensitive core. You flung your head back, moaning in pleasure.

Honestly, you weren't mad. You got your fun and revenge from last time. You could afford a good fuck now. Holding onto Miguel, you gasped and whined as he showed you no mercy. He wanted to make sure you felt just as good as he did.

And he sure was. Miguel held your waist as he kept cumming inside you, desperate to relief his overstimulated self. His expression showed no signs of stopping as his sweat rolled down his face. You whimpered in response, wanting him to relax...

But that was a silly thought.

----------

You were panting heavily as you laid against the floor beside Miguel. The two of you exhausted and fucked out. Your body was still twitching slightly from the intense fuck as cum poured out of your abused cunt.

Miguel on the other hand was taking deep breathes as he tried to regain his composure. It only took him a few breathes before he sat up. Curse his advance DNA and stamina.

"Are you happy that you got your payback from last time?" Miguel asked as he picked you up.

"Hm...not sure....how much payback this....really was." You muttered in protest.

Miguel could only chuckle as he took you to wash up. His silence was enough to know that you needed a different form of payback. Chuckling lowly as he kissed you, Miguel sat you in the tub first,

"I think we should start sending the Robot Spidermen from now on."

"Well, you're no fun."

The two of you just smiled, knowing damn well that this was going to happen again some way shape or form.

It was just a matter of when.

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Hope you enjoooooyed~~~

@kinkybandages

#spiderman 2099 #miguel o’hara x reader #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara smut #across the spiderverse #miguel spiderverse #miguel spiderman #miguel o'hara #miguel x you #miguel o'hara x reader

[jordyn14]

would you write a story where Y/n and Joe are arguing because Joe is making some bad friends and she doesn't want to be around because she's pregnant or something... But in the end everything ends well

Pairing: Joe burrow x fem first person

Words: 4113

Notes: I kind of changed this around slightly to make this a little more emotional and heartfelt, but I tried to stay on track with the request. I hope you enjoy! <3

Taglist: @wickedfun9

I got into my car after working out for the millionth time this week. Normally I would go once, maybe twice a week depending on how my pregnant body felt, but lately, I’ve been going every single day. Why have I been going every single day? To get out of my house. Ever since Joe’s season ending wrist injury, he’s been hanging out with the wrong people. I get why he’s needed an outlet and a group of friends that can take his mind off of it. I do. I get that the injury took a toll on him physically and especially mentally, but right now, I can’t stand to be anywhere his friends are, and they’ve been coming over the house so often, even just to pick Joe up and take him somewhere.

Most of the time they come home drunk and high, and I don’t need nor want that, especially since Joe and I are expecting a baby in a few months. When I told Joe that I was glad that his new friends were helping him take his mind off of it all, I meant it because I thought it would be good for him in the long run, but I was very, very wrong. I found that out when they first got in trouble with the law for the first time. Joe swore it would be the last time, but then it happened again. The last thing I wanted was for Joe to end up in jail or suspended for a few games.

While I headed home, I was hopeful that his friends wouldn’t be over the house and that I would get to spend some quality time with Joe, because right now, that’s all I wanted. This first pregnancy is currently kicking my butt and all I want to do is be with my husband since he’s been in Arizona with his friends this past weekend, which means I haven’t seen him in a few days.

As I merged onto the freeway, I got a call from Joe. With a smile, I grabbed my phone so the music could still play and excitedly answered it. “Hey Joey, I should be home soon. Did you just get home?” I asked him with a big smile on my face. “Hey baby. I can’t wait to see you, it feels like it’s been forever.” Joe said. Hmm, maybe because it has been forever. For the last two weekends he’s been in another state. “We just got home and immediately jumped into the pool. Granted, it’s a lot colder here than in Arizona so we’re kinda cold.” Joe chuckled. We? You’ve got to be kidding me. I pulled the phone away from my ear and started laughing a little bit, unable to hide how annoyed I was. “They’re all at the house? Haven’t you spend enough time with them?” I asked Joe.

Even though my voice was filled with annoyance, he still was oblivious to just how much I hated them. “Probably, but they wanted to swim some more, so I invited them over.” Joe said. In the background, I could hear beer cans getting crushed and shook my head. “Are you drinking beer already? It’s 11am.” I asked Joe. In the background, I not only could hear beer cans being crush, but I also could hear a lot of commotion and water splashing.

“I’m not, but the guys are. They’re fucking hilarious.” Joe said and laughed at something one of them did on the other end of the phone. I rolled my eyes and said, “I’m about to get off of the freeway, I’ll be home in like 5 minutes.” I said and hung up before he could say anything else. More than anything, I wanted to come home to my husband without them being there. I wanted Joe to wrap me in his arms like he does after a long game or a long weekend away from me and hear him repeat the words ‘I love you,’ over and over again as he kisses me. I just wanted some alone time, and on top of that, I wanted to know my husband was being safe.

I pulled into our driveway and pulled into the only spot that was left since there were 3 other cars that weren’t supposed to be here. As soon as I opened the door, I could hear them in the backyard yelling and having what they thought was a great time. This may seem like fun for some people, hell, it would’ve been fun to me…about 4 years ago. But with where we are at in our lives, and with the image that Joe has to uphold at all times, he can’t be doing this. He can’t be going out with people that are constantly doing things that can trash his name, because when he comes to terms with just how lousy he’s been acting, it may be too late.

When I walked inside, I headed for the back door and tried to put on my best fake smile. The last thing I wanted was to get into a fight right here and now about it, but that day would definitely come. It had to come. I just didn’t know when. Putting my hand on the door handle, I hesitated for a few seconds before slowly opening it up. Right when Joe heard the door open from in the deep end of the pool, he immediately jumped out and began to run over to me. “Finally! I missed you both!” Joe yelled as he ran, looking to me and to my stomach where his little boy was.

When he reached me, he picked me up and spun me around a little bit. I couldn’t contain the giggles as I clung onto his wet and muscular body. “We missed you too, Joey.” I said with a laugh as he set me down on the ground. Once on the ground, I couldn’t help but stare at him, in awe of how he looked. Not only was he only in swim trunks which revealed the most perfect amount of leg, ab, back, and arm muscles, but his hair looked amazing. Like most off seasons, he was growing out his hair, so his wet curls were hanging on his forehead and the hair in the back was wild from getting wet. Instinctively, I reached up and ran my fingers through his curls and then let my hand run down his arm.

All joe did was look me up and down before he cupped the side of my face with one hand and the other was wrapped around my waist, pulling me in closer to him. I wrapped my arms around his neck as our lips connected and arched my back with the faintest moan as he kissed me hard. From the noise I made, Joe smiled into the kiss before we were interrupted by all three of the guys screaming, “get a room!” The both of us pulled away from each other and laughed at the guys reaction. Maybe this wouldn’t be as bad as I thought. “Oh shut up.” I laughed while rolling my eyes at them.

Two out of the three of them got out of the pool and started to dry off slightly before plopping themselves down into the chairs my best friend and I tan in during the summer. “How was your workout? Let’s see those muscles.” Joe joked and gave my arm a little squeeze. “Well, it was going good until the very end when our little crazy pants in here decided it would be a good idea to keep jabbing me in the rib cage.” I said and looked down at my stomach. Joe chuckled and put both of his hands on my stomach so he could try and feel our little boy kick. I studied Joes face, waiting for him to feel the kicks, and after a few seconds, his face lit up and he looked at me with the most amazing smile. “Oh wow, he’s kicking. Our little man is so strong,” Joe said, looking at me and then my stomach in awe, “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that.”

I smiled up at Joe and let him feel his son kick in my stomach for a little while longer. Ever since Joe felt him kick for the first time, he’s been obsessed with feeling him kick. Before he leaves to go anywhere, or even go to sleep, he wants to feel his little boy kick first and talk to him so he knows what his voice sounds like. It’s adorable watching Joe transform into a dad, and I can’t wait until the day comes when he can hold his baby boy for the first time.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed one of Joe’s friends lighting a joint when I specifically told all of them not to a million times. Edibles was one thing, but I really did not want the yard and our clothes smelling like weed. It’s not like I mind them getting high, especially Joe since I know it helps him calm down, but they go completely overboard with it. Almost every time I see them they are faded and despite me telling them not do, the house still smells like weed when I come home sometimes. It’s just gotten out of hand.

Although I was annoyed and wanted nothing more than to never see them again, I tried to shake it off and act like everything was fine for Joe’s sake. As long as they didn’t take it inside. “Do you want to sit down? Your back probably hurts.” Joe said. “That sounds amazing. Your son is being a pain today.” I sighed out and was immediately escorted to another chair by Joe who kept his hand on my lower back the whole time. When I sat down, Joe made sure I didn’t need anything else and then sat down in the chair next to me. “So, did Joe tell you what happened this weekend?” One of Joes friends asked who was laying out on one of the sun tanning chairs while smoking a joint. With a skeptical look, I shook my head and then looked at Joe. I swear to god if he did anything illegal. “No, what did you do?” I asked Joe who looked like he wanted to keep it a secret. “Joey B decided to get drunk and pass out right in front of a police officer.” The other friend said who grabbed the other one’s joint and started to smoke it. I looked over at Joe with a glare on my face and tried my best not to get angry until they left. “How fun. At least you didn’t get thrown in jail.” I said with a fake laugh and then continued to glare at his friends.

While two of them were getting high, the other one was floating on a raft in the pool with some sunglasses on, probably already drunk, knowing them. “You seem uptight, take a hit. It’ll be good for you.” The friend said that was currently holding the joint said. I rolled my eyes with a small smile, thinking he was joking, but he obviously wasn’t since his hand stayed outstretched towards me. While I looked at him, thinking it was a joke, he shrugged a little bit. With a scoff, I shook my head and said, “excuse me? You know I’m pregnant, right?” From next to me, Joe put his hand by his mouth and was about to intervene when I glared at him. No way he was letting this one go. I was so sick and tired of them always being around Joe and me, and making Joe do stupid and illegal things.

“What? My baby mama did it when she was pregnant. Granted, that little bitch of a son is practically a 13 year old drug dealer at his school.” He laughed. With another scoff, I stood up and started to quickly walk over to him. All he did was stare up at me with a confused look on his face as I stormed over to him. As soon as I got to him, I snatched the joint right out of his hand and tossed it on the concrete and smashed it into the ground with my shoe. “Get off of my fucking property. All of you.” I said and looked between the both of them who just stared up at me in shock, then over to Joe. “Don’t look at him, look at me, I’m the one talking. And if you didn’t hear me the first time, I said get off of my property!” I raised my voice at them.

This time, they got the hint and stood up from the chairs. “Your wife is fucking crazy dude. She ain’t any fun.” One of them said as they made their way to the gate which led to the front yard. “Don’t talk about her that way.” Joe stood up for me while he stood up from his chair, though I could tell he was angry with me that I kicked them out. After they left for the front yard, I walked over to the in ground pool where the last one was swimming. “It’s time to go!” I yelled at him. Just as I said this, Joe came over and put his hand on my arm to try and stop me, but I yanked my hand away from him. “What are you doing?” Joe asked me. I looked up at him with a glare on my face and he looked down at me like I was the one in the wrong. I looked him up and down with a scoff and then angrily looked back over to his friend that was fast asleep on the raft.

Not wanting to wait for him to wake up, I leaned down and picked up an empty beer can that one of them smashed and threw it at the guy and hit him in the face with it. Right when it hit him, he leaned forwards with a small scream, not expecting to be hit by anything, and fell off of the raft into the cold water. “What the fuck?” He asked and yanked his sunglasses off of his face which how had a broken lens. “It’s time to go.” I said and started to gather up all of the beer cans from the ground that they left. “I’m drunk, what am I supposed to do?” He asked as he started to walk up the stairs. “Do you have a phone?” I asked him while stopping to look at him for a second. After he nodded, I said, “great, then call an Uber or walk home for all I care. Do anything but stay here.” While he got out of the pool, he scoffed at me, so I flipped him off before I bent down and started to pick up some of the beer cans they left on the ground.

While I picked up the beer cans and tried to make the yard look like it did before they came over, Joe just stood there with his hands on his hips, looking at me with a confused and angry look on his face. After I picked up the last can and threw it in the outside trash bin, I turned to look at him. “What was that? Why did you do that?” Joe asked me. I widened my eyes at him and scoffed while shaking my head. “You aren’t serious, right? Tell me you’re joking.” I said. Joe just shrugged, waiting for me to tell him why. “He offered you a joint, all you had to say was no, not freak out like you did and kick them all out.” Joe said, trying his best to give them the benefit of the doubt. That’s all he’s been doing these past few months. Always giving them excuse after excuse so he doesn’t look like a complete dick for hanging around them.

I guess we’re doing this now. “This wasn’t just from him offering me weed, this is from everything. Every single thing that they’ve done that I’ve ignored for your sake.” I said. “Oh so we’re doing this? We’re making this a thing? No way.” Joe said with a scoff and started to storm towards the door. As he passed me, he looked me up and down with a pissed look on his face. “We are so doing this, Joe, because it’s been a thing, for months now. You’re just too blind to see it apparently.” I said and followed after him as he walked inside, trying to get away from me since he didn’t want that confrontation.

Even though I followed Joe inside and wanted to have this conversation with him, he was still in denial, and pretended like I wasn’t even there. I watched as he went into the kitchen and started to rummage around the cupboards. “Excuse me? Now you’re ignoring me?” I asked him and walked over to him. When I said this, he closed the cupboard he was looking inside of and turned around to face me. “I don’t know what you are getting at right now? This hasn’t been a thing!” Joe said, raising his voice slightly. “Yes it has Joe. It’s been a thing since you started hanging around them after your wrist injury!” I said, raising my voice right back at him.

All joe did was scoff and walk away from me. “Come back here right now. We are having this conversation, whether you like it or not.” I said and turned around. Joe stopped right in his tracks and then slowly turned around to face me. I took a step closer to him while saying, “ever since your wrist injury, you have been hanging around them, and it isn’t good. They aren’t good people and it kills me that you are so blind to that.” I said. As soon as I said this, it looked like something clicked in him, like he was finally waking up to something, but he still shook his head, somewhat in denial, or at least that’s what it looked like. “They aren’t bad people just because they don’t like or don’t do the same things you do!” Joe raised his voice at me. “Two out of three of them have been to jail, the other has had multiple DUI’s and something that should’ve been a felony. But yeah, they totally aren’t bad people.” I said with a hint of sarcasm in my voice at the last part.

Joe started to bite on the inside of his cheek as he listened to what I had to say. Then, he looked down at the ground and took a deep breath. “If you don’t want to be around them, I won’t have them over the house anymore.” Was all he said as he continued to look at the ground. “I don’t want to be around them, but I also don’t want them around you.” I said. Joe looked up at me and said quietly, “they help.” My heart ached for him. I know how hard it was for him to have his second season ending injury in just two years. I did. I get that he was exhausting. But this has to stop before it’s too late. “They aren’t good people, Joe. I don’t want to see you turn into them.” I said.

“I would never turn into them and you know that. Just because you don’t like them doesn’t mean I have to stop hanging out with them.” Joe said, fighting back. “Really? Because before you started hanging out with them, you never got in trouble for anything. But right after you met them, boom, you started to have run ins with the police.” I said. “They were over stupid things! That doesn’t count!” Joe yelled slightly. “Those things aren’t stupid Joe! You would’ve never, ever done those things a year ago.” I told him. “What? So now you wish I would change and go back to the way I was? Am I not good enough now?” Joe asked me. I took another step towards him and let out a sigh. I had no clue what to do.

“You will always be good enough, Joe, but you’re going down a dark path, and I’m scared that when you do finally wake up and realize the kind of people you’ve been hanging around, it may already be too late.” I said. Joe looked at the ground as he furrowed his brows. “I know that they aren’t the best people, but they really did help.” Joe said. My heart skipped a beat in my chest and I sucked in a breath. This was the first time in months that he’s actually accepted that they were bad people and didn’t make excuses for them. Now all I needed to do was push a little bit more. “I get that your injury was hard on you physically and mentally. I get that maybe I wasn’t enough for you and only they could help, but they aren’t good people Joe, and I’m honestly scared to raise a child around them…and you if you keep going down this path, although it’s not likely, you may end up in jail or suspended from the league.” I said, telling Joe the truth.

Joe looked up at me and shook his head repeatedly. “You were always enough. You helped me when nobody else could. I needed you, and will always need you.” Joe said. “Then why did you lean on them?” I asked, feeling my eyes prick with tears. Joe sighed, his shoulders hanging low. He looked so defeated. All I wanted to do was wrap him in my arms and tell him everything was going to be alright. “Would you believe me if I said I don’t know? Because I don’t know. I don’t know why I started using them as an outlet, I just did, and it felt good because I didn’t have to think about the possibility of never being able to throw a football again. All I know right now is that I love you and our baby with all of my heart and I am so incredibly sorry for everything.” Joe said, looking at me with those bright and tear filled blue eyes. Sucking in my lips slightly, I nodded and closed to distance between us, wrapping my arms around his neck. “You don’t have to be sorry, Joey, I know how hard this has been for you, I just want you to realize that you’re going down a dark path and that you need to turn around before it’s too late.” I said. Joe wrapped his arms around my waist and held me against him tightly while sniffling into my hair. “I promise you, I’m never seeing them again. You and this baby are all I need and I’m sorry if I may have forgotten that with everything that’s been going on.” Joe said. “It’s okay, Joey. I can’t imagine how hard this is for you. But please, talk to me if you need to. Don’t keep things bottled up, and don’t fall into the wrong crowd when you need an escape.” I said. “I promise you, baby. I know I’ve been such an asshole lately and haven’t been home that much, but please forgive me if you can, because I am so sorry.” Joe said. “Of course I forgive you. No matter what happens, you’re still my husband and I will always love you. Even if you passed out in front of a cop.” I laughed and pulled away from Joe to look into his eyes.

Joe put both of his hands on the sides of my face and swiped his thumbs under my eyes to catch my tears while chuckling at what I said. “Good, because I would be lost without you.” Joe said. As we looked into each other’s eyes, I couldn’t help but let out a small sob. It took everything in me not to have this conversation with him sooner, but I think it was good that I waited until he could realize for himself just how extensive it was getting. I know the injury was hard on him and that he needed an escape from reality sometimes, but he was finally back. My husband was finally back. “I missed you.” I whispered to him. “I missed me too.” Joe sighed and rested his head on mine.

#joe burrow #joeburrow #cincinnati bengals #nfl #joe burrow bengals #joey b #joe shiesty #bengals #joey burrow #joe burr #joe burrow fan fic #joe x reader #joe burrow fic #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow x reader #joe #nfl imagine #imagine #nfl fan fiction #my fic #fanfic

[delirious-donna]

The Mistakes We Make [Part Eight]

story summary: Your best friend lets you crash at her place over the spring break since you have nowhere else to go. Little did you know that it isn't actually her place. Instead, it belongs to a tall (grumpy) hot guy who finds you in his apartment–her brother.

chapter summary: Kento has come to some startling conclusions and works to put his decisions into practice. Finding the apartment empty whilst a storm rages outside tests his restraint to the limit. It'll be fine, right?

pairing: Nanami Kento x female reader

warnings: angst, emotionally charged argument, take the title as it's own warning cause I don't want to spoil everything

Part Seven | Series Masterlist | Part Nine

The following morning was overcast. Heavy grey rain clouds dominated the sky, threatening to burst at a moment’s notice. A breezy wind blew through the city, buffeting off the panoramic windows and carrying debris from the streets so far below up to whip against the glass. Despite the gloomy conditions, your mood was surprisingly bright and dare you say, positive.  

Sipping your coffee, the miserable weather was the furthest thing from your mind. Instead, your head was full of possibilities and thoughts of the immediate future. The second you woke up to find yourself tucked up in bed, still fully dressed but snuggled beneath the duvet, you knew exactly how you must have ended up here. Kento carried you to bed.  

Kento Nanami put you to bed with care. He didn’t leave you to sleep in an awkward position out on the couch, no. That man—that annoyingly endearing man—had lifted you carefully enough not to even disturb your slumber and carried you to bed. Someone who didn’t care wouldn’t do that, it wouldn’t make any sense.  

He likes you. You like him. It was obvious, and if the realistic snapshots of your dreams held any authenticity, maybe he had kissed your head and murmured soft sentiments to you. That part was wishful thinking but not outside the realms of plausibility given how real the dream-like moments felt when you examined them closely.  

It made you smile into your mug, lost in thoughts of what to say or do when Kento finally appeared from his room. You glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall and frowned. It was later than you expected and there was still no sign of the man that was always up bright and early. Maybe he had decided to sleep in for once, and of course, he would pick the day that you wanted to see him most to indulge in more hours of sleep.  

By noon you were worried. The apartment had long fallen silent, the music you had played earlier turned off so you could try to listen for signs of life from your host. There were none to speak of. Closer and closer you crept to his closed door until your ear was pressed against the solid oak. You couldn’t hear any movement, no rustling of sheets or footsteps to suggest he was getting dressed. No sounds of faint snoring or the distant noise of a running shower.  

“What the fuck is going on?”  

You knocked once, quietly.  

There was no answer. So, you knocked again, this time far louder and you followed it up by calling out loudly. “Kento, are you in there? Is…” you searched for the right words. “Is everything alright? I’m starting to worry.”  

Again, there was no reply. This was getting ridiculous, and your annoyance at not knowing what was going on got the better of you. The door opened whilst you kept your eyes firmly fixed on the floor just in case you were about to walk in on him half-dressed or worse… naked. However, the bedroom was empty.  

The bed was neatly made, nothing appeared out of place from the time when you had last nosed about in here. It felt like forever ago but in reality, it wasn’t that long. You stuck your head around the corner, glancing into the walk-in closet and finding it equally empty. The bathroom was next, and once again you knocked before entering to find it empty and like it hadn’t been used in at least a few hours.  

Had he left before you even woke up? It was the only thing you could think of since a thorough search of the entire apartment turned up no missing blond man. You weren’t sure why it bothered you as much as it did. He was a grown-up, he could come and go as he pleased. Yet, you expected that he might have left a note or something to let you know where he was and when he would be back, or was that assuming too much?  

In the end, you did your best not to let it sour your mood. Kento was a free man, perhaps he had errands to run, and he would be right back with groceries in hand, you simply didn’t know. You had your own agenda today, and one you were excited to get to. It had been on your mind for several days now, knowing that your time here with Kento was ending, you wanted to buy him a gift to show your gratitude for his allowing you to stay here when he didn’t have to.  

A few ideas were running through your mind as to what would be most appreciated, and the sooner you hit the stores, the sooner you hoped to come to a final decision. You wanted it to be special, something that he wouldn’t think to buy for himself. Were you putting a lot of stock in this gift? Maybe… but it was how you showed your lo—appreciation. Love was too strong a sentiment, or so you tried to reason.  

You hastily scrawled a note and left it on the kitchen island. The front door locked behind you, whilst the elevator took you down to the lobby for the battle against the elements to commence.  

Gone out. Be back later! Hope you’re having a good day. X  

 ~  

Everything was silent when he returned home. Kento wasn’t sure what he expected, and what he would prefer, but somehow it wasn’t as relieving as he expected, to walk into a noiseless space. How quickly his appreciations had changed.   

He saw the note almost immediately, not bothering to pick it up since the thought made his stomach clench with anxiety. His finger did somehow find its way to touching the small flourish of a kiss, and he scowled upon realisation. He hadn’t spent the day clearing his head and mentally running through every outcome he could foresee just to return straight back to square one. His mind was made up. Giving up everything he had built for himself was pure insanity. End of discussion.  

A powerful gust of wind pounded against the windows, drawing his attention to the weather conditions he had driven through, and his frown deepened. Kento stepped towards the glass, eyes scanning the barely visible streets below and the tiny moving umbrellas which appeared like dancing circles as people navigated around each other.  

Did you have an umbrella with you?  

Were you out in the elements or tucked up somewhere safe and cozy like a small café?  

What was so important that you had ventured out on such a horrible day in the first place?  

It didn’t matter. It was none of his business, and he should stop thinking about it.  

Picking up a random book from his overstuffed shelves fit to bursting with books he wanted to read but had never had the time for, he didn’t even glance at the title before he was settling himself in the farthest part of the couch. Sure, it was the seat that let him both keep an eye on the front door and allow him a view of the worsening weather, but he refused to acknowledge that fact.  

Three hours passed and Kento could recall exactly nothing of the pages he’d dutifully turned in his book. He read the lines of text but none of them stuck no matter how many times he repeated the action. Frustration burned hotter the longer he tried until he threw it down on the arm of the couch and turned worried eyes towards the now storm raging outside. Where the hell were you?  

It had never dawned on him to exchange numbers with you, there hadn’t seemed to be a point since you were occupying the same space, but now he saw the idiocy of such a small oversight. He was halfway towards his phone on the kitchen island to call Karin and have her send through your contact info when the door suddenly burst open.  

A small puddle surrounded your feet, every inch of you soaked right through and shivering. Your hair was plastered across your face, obscuring your eyes which didn’t help you wrestle with the half-folded-down umbrella in your hand. Several of the metal spindles were broken or sticking up at odd angles from the winds and Kento reached for you before you even realised he was there.  

“Shit! You’re soaking wet. Where the hell have you been?” Kento thundered, his tone refusing to diffuse even when you squeaked in alarm and almost stumbled backwards.  

His hand wrapped around your elbow was the only thing keeping you on your feet. The umbrella was wrenched from your grasp, a startled yelp only further fuelling the snarled expression you could make out between the messy strands of your hair. You could feel the fury ripple outward from his body and into your own. What the fuck...?  

Kento disappeared. One moment you were being firmly pulled into the living area by his strong hands and the next he had let you go and rounded the corner, out of sight. Shaking from the cold that continued to penetrate your clothes, the chill all the worse now you weren’t running on the adrenaline of battling for your life on the streets far below, you were bamboozled by his demeanour. The warmth of the apartment was apparent, but until you could strip off every layer of sodden clothing and soak your bones in a warm shower or bath, your teeth would chatter, and your limbs would shudder.  

Suddenly, you remembered to check the package, which was tucked securely inside your bag, grateful for your forethought to wrap the box in several plastic bags before placing it inside. It was unscathed and you exhaled a sigh of relief. The gift was far from inexpensive, something you would never have bought yourself and yet, you happily dropped a not insufficient amount of money on the man who returned to you with a large fluffy white towel in hand and a scowl etched across his face.  

He took the bag from your grasp before you could protest, setting it on the kitchen stool and leaning back against the counter with his arms folded. With your hair now a little less wet and back into some semblance of submission, you could see how terse his expression was and it caused you to frown in reaction. What was the problem?   

“Thanks. I’m definitely going to need a hot shower after the day I’ve had,” you conceded with a chuckle. It was your attempt at an olive branch, hoping that he would drop the bad attitude he was wearing like a cloak.  

Kento scowled harder. “Why were you out in a storm in the first place?” He was trying to calm the ire that was eating him alive, unsure where the heart of his anger truly came from, or at least, not willing to admit its source.  

“Shopping.”  

“Shopping,” he parroted back. “You risked your life to go shopping? Are you that stupid?”  

You recoiled. The words landed directly against your chest. An anger of your own beginning to bubble like water brought to a rapid boil. It was funny how fast you forgot about the steady drip of water creating a large pool around your feet, nor did you feel the cold as acutely.  

“Excuse me?”  

Kento pushed off from where he was leaning, gesticulating towards the evident storm raging outside. Sheets of heavy rain blown by the howling wind lashed the glass as if to prove his point and you seethed at him, hands curling in and out fists by your sides.  

“You heard me. What could be so important that you would risk your life in conditions like these?”   

You stalked closer, fury pounding in your veins enough to make your blood sing with molten heat. “You were out in it too!” You yelled, barely drawing breath between words. “Unless you’ve got some hidden room in this apartment that I’m not aware of. At least I had the decency to leave a note.”  

He scoffed, turning from you to increase the distance between you both but you weren’t done.  

“You could have been laying sprawled out, in need of help for all I knew! I was worried that—”   

“That is different,” he countered whilst a broad hand ran roughly through his hair. The usually neatly parted blond hair was ruffled as if he had already worked his fingers through it whilst you were out. “I was safely in a car, not traipsing around the fucking city with only an umbrella for protection.”  

This man. This perfectly outrageous, infuriating man. Oh, he was doing his damnedest to push every one of your buttons. You weren’t some stupid little girl that needed protecting or coddling.   

“And what does it matter to you? You’re not my fucking brother, Kento! At the end of the day, we’re nothing to each other!”   

Shit, that hurt. The regret was immediate; tears burning behind your eyes, threatening to blur your vision and you’d be damned if you were going to let him see them fall. Withdraw. You needed space, to pull back from this stupid, meaningless argument. Except it wasn’t meaningless.  

You made to move past his hulking frame that filled the way to the hall and the solace of your room, but two strong hands shot out to prevent you from running. His grip shook, fingers curled around your shoulders as he pulled you to him. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t move. Kento looked downright furious; his lips curled back from his teeth with a snarl and his eyes snapped fire. The raging inferno of a wildfire—uncontrolled and dangerous—shone in those intelligent brown depths.  

“Oh no, you don’t get to walk away, not now. Do you honestly think a brother would be this worried… shit… that they would get this angry about you being in danger? I don’t think so. You’re an intelligent woman, you know this kind of reaction is reserved for something far more intimate than that.”  

His words stole the remaining air from your lungs, you were held in a vacuum with nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. Your eyes bounced between his, certain you hadn’t just heard what he said. It had to be all in your head, your traitorous brain implanting false declarations, but… no. He did say that. He had worried about your safety, and not because of some arbitrary sense of obligation. This man who you wanted to yell at some more. This man who you wanted to do nothing more than shut up with a kiss.  

“Wh—”  

The world stopped turning. Everything felt frozen in place as your lips found his and the relief was immediate. The starchy material of his shirt felt alien against your fingers, not that you were even sure when they had fisted into it in the first place. Kento crushed you to his chest, forcing you to step onto your tiptoes to continue the assault. His hands found your waist at the same time you curled an arm around his neck. The taste of coffee erupted on your tongue, bitter but sweetened by warm honey notes that felt indulgent.   

This moment felt forever in the making, all the missed opportunities and miscommunications seeming inconsequential now that you had him where you wanted him. You could drown in this man. The flames of your anger continued to flicker in the periphery; he wouldn’t get off this easily, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care about his earlier hurled words when his tongue was pushing past the seam of your lips. He was a combination of sweet and salty, leading the dance with a gentle dominance that suited him perfectly. Kento’s hands were careful, considered in how he held you, whilst he let his tongue curl over your teeth and stroke over your own. You were kindling in his hands, soaked to the bone yet you felt not an inch of the cold penetrating your skin. Kento would set you ablaze and you’d let him.  

Your eyes hooded then finally closed, the shock of how you had both lunged in the same breath was long over and now you were simply a mass of sensations, lost to your desires and happily so. Your fingers inched towards the rough undercut at his nape only to be ripped away, shattering the cocoon of warmth in an instant. It felt like a punch to the gut, gasping like a fish out of water and you blinked in alarm.   

You could only watch whilst Kento shook his head in resignation, his face lowered so as not to look you in the eye and the scratchy feeling in your throat returned tenfold. The hands that only seconds ago tenderly explored your waist now imprisoned your wrists, preventing you from touching him any longer.  

“I can’t… we can’t do this,” he said whilst the bottom of your stomach fell out. How dare he pull you into that claim without your consent.  

“No! You mean you can’t do this. I want this, I want you, Kento. You’re the one pushing me away, holding me at arm’s length,” you half screamed back. The tears were falling fast, hot splashes against your cheeks and you hated yourself for it.  

“It won’t work. I—I’ve spent hours trying to figure out how I could make it work and I can’t.”  

Goddamn him. Didn’t he realise that it wasn’t a puzzle to solve, it wasn’t a project to manage? It should be a venture started together; he should be able to lean on you as much as you could depend on him. He was a fucking coward. The seams of your heart were being ripped open and he spoke words of reason, of logic, like those were the only things to consider. Couldn’t he see how much he was hurting you?  

“Coward.”  

He didn’t try to stop you when you pulled free, turning on your heel to snatch up a plastic-wrapped lump from your bag. You shoved it into his chest with force, resulting in a grunt of surprise at your unexpected strength.  

Kento could barely look as you barged past him to run down the hall. The door of your room slammed shut with an air of finality that churned his stomach into a mass of thorn-tipped vines. He despised the hurt that was etched across your face, the tears streaking your cheeks and the complete betrayal dulling your usually sparkling eyes. You were right; he was a coward.   

How long he stood there, staring down an empty hallway whilst the rain lashed and the winds howled, he didn’t know. Eventually, he glanced at the package in his hands and curiosity got the better of him. He pulled out a gift-wrapped box from the layers of plastic bags protecting it from the elements, a golden bow adorned it, and he smiled despite the pain. With careful fingers, the bow pulled loose, and the paper unwrapped to reveal an expensive camera.  

Kento scrubbed a palm down his face, eyes slowly shuttering at the gift he would have never considered for himself, but which was perfect. He hadn’t given you nearly enough credit, you were so wonderfully compassionate and understanding, and he had fucked everything up. He knew in his rational mind that it shouldn’t work, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t, not if you worked at it and were both willing to compromise.   

Should he…   

You needed time after what he had done. It wouldn’t be fair to either of you if he knocked on your door right now, and honestly, he wasn’t sure he had the words to make this right. Things would look better in the morning, he had to hope that there were enough remnants of what had been there before to repair the damage. Kento touched his fingertips to his lips, he could still feel yours against him and what he wouldn’t give for one more taste. One more smile. One more playful tease at his expense. One more secret glance that tightened his chest.  

“Fucking coward.”  

~  

The storm had passed by the next morning, leaving behind a beautiful cloudless sky and the dawn chorus of chirping birds. Kento woke with a start and immediately winced at the streams of sunlight filling his bedroom. He sat up with a grimace, holding his pounding head in his hands and looking down to find himself still dressed in yesterday’s clothes. A crystal-cut tumbler half-filled with amber liquor sat on his nightstand and he recalled having drunk several very full glasses to find the embrace of sleep. It had refused to come to him without the alcohol numbing his emotions and he was only glad he hadn’t done something stupid in his drunken stupor like trying to speak to you. That wouldn’t have gone over well, that much he knew.  

Speaking of you, he recounted hearing sniffling noises during the darkest part of the night, but he couldn’t tell if they were yours or if his conscience was torturing him. He wouldn’t put it past him, the midnight hours had been spent berating his stupidity and warring with the voice in the back of his head that continued to chirp that this was for the best.  

After he straightened himself out, washing his face and changing into a clean outfit, he went in search of coffee and hoped to find you in the kitchen with your morning cup. Instead, what he found was an apartment that was eerily quiet, even more so than when he returned home yesterday. Each footstep filled him with rising dread, the icy prickle of unease at his neck and no amount of scratching would relieve it.  

The whisky bottle from last night was exactly where he left it. The coffee machine was cold and unused. The camera you had gifted him lay on the couch with the golden ribbon rumpled on the floor beneath. Kento swallowed; unwilling to believe what he knew in his heart to be true. Instead of facing reality, he began his morning ritual of preparing coffee until he pulled down two mugs instead of one.   

His hand shook around the grey mug you had favoured since you burst into his world in a whirlwind of laughter and joy. The smell of French roast turned his stomach and he launched himself down the hall to confirm his suspicions. There was no answer to his insistent knocks at your door, each one another nail in his coffin until he was completely trapped.  

The room—your room—stood silent and empty.  

 Every trace that you had ever been here was gone, that was except for your scent which lingered in the air, thick with melancholy. Kento sat on the corner of your bed, his head cradled in his hands at the gravity of what he had done. Not only had he acted cowardly, but he had also caused you to run from him and that was a sucker punch to the gut.   

“You’re a fool, Nanami. A coward and a fool…”  

#delirious writes #nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami angst #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #nanami kento angst #jjk angst