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auecho · 27 days

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THE PARTY & THE AFTER PARTY ೀ kafka & blade ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ‘oh girl, don’t hold back - let it out!’

𝓦ARNINGS ֹ ﹒ ୨ৎ fem!reader - threesome - drug use - dubcon [themes] - slowburn - ft. jing yuan - overstimulation - blade has a crush on the reader - cunnilingus - reader is a bit of a pushover - roommate!kafka - ex-stepsister!kafka - sexting - cum eating [?] - creampie - asphyxiation && gagging - praise - grinding - making out - spit - dumbification - kafka is . . kafka - masturbation [f. & m.] - orgasm control - squirting - creampie - mating press - everybody is slightly ooc - not proofread - minors & dark content antis do not interact ! ! !

𝓐UTHOR’S 𝓝OTE ֹ ﹒ ୨ৎ hihii first full fic ^3^ n first post ! ! so welcome 2 my acc,, m name is echo n i’m pleased to meet u 🫡 eek ‘m so excited, i’ve been sittin n workin on this idea for a while so i hope u enjoy it ! i listened to kiss land by the weeknd writing this and i think it fits rly well sooo >_o this is dark content so viewer discretion advised ! please don’t read if not ur taste T_T im posting this later than expected m soo sry :c reblogs n feedback very appreciated cuz the guidelines r gna get mi < / 3 ! !

𝓔CHOES ֹ ﹒ ୨ৎ kiss land , the weeknd - valentina , daniel caesar - fill the void , the weeknd - sdp interlude , travis scott - the worst guys , childish gambino & chance the rapper .

𝓦ORD 𝓒OUNT ֹ ﹒ ୨ৎ 20.7k+

SHE CARRIES A distinct scent with her: cinnamon, champagne…and a twinge of mischief. It flurries in the air and infects your brain like the plague. She had this certain cadence about her: an aura drawn up in a slick figure and even slicker tongue, characterized by a sultry red color. That was Kafka. She's a bombshell, delivering a traumatic shock that you can only hope to forget. You tried to forget — tried to cloud that era of your life to no avail. She kicked down the rock blockade you'd built, welcoming herself into your life again with an impressive amount of effort.

“Elio said she has nowhere to go! She can't stay with him because he moved into a one-bedroom after the divorce! She's about to be couch-hopping at 22 — it’s sad!!” your mother whined. Her emphasis lay on certain words, pathetic tones emanating from the manipulation of her words. You're weak, standing hunched with a backbone made of cotton candy. “But, mom—” “And she begged Elio not to bother us—bother you—but he did it anyway because we’re always family. Family needs each other, family depends on one another.”

She'd pestered a yes out of you, and since the syllable passed through your lips, you've been counting your blessings.

After all, Kafka was an all-devouring curse: blessings were her kryptonite.

Exactly one week later, you bit your nails anxiously and breathed deeply so much so that you got lightheaded. It's been years, she may have changed, you comforted yourself. Your mind worked on its splintering tooth and nail to soothe your wild imagination. Kafka was always going to be Kafka — it was just a matter of whether she developed or if she enabled perversion.

When she engulfed you in a hug you almost passed out smelling her again. Hearing her was another thing, seeing her was even worse. Smelling her — that warm, spicy scent that burns but entices was the pinch to reality you needed. In the flesh, Kafka stood. In all of her menacing glory - ready to flip your world upside down.

“Missed you, little mouse. Ugh, how’ve you been?” you fought the urge to shiver. The nickname and her ever-tickling tone — God, you weren't prepared.

“Good,” is all you muttered. ‘Way better before.’ you wanted to add.

“Mmm, good, I'm glad. I got nervous when Mom said my baby moved out all alone.”

My baby. You could really just…die. She was just as charismatic as before. Possibly even more, given her blatant maturity. You would think it was a play on your age, but truly it was endearment from her: her form of caring for you.

“Who would've thought we’d be living together again? We’re gonna have so much fun!” In the giggle that slipped from her throat, lies mischief. She picks up a box out of the trunk, turning on her heels with the biggest, most Kafka smile ever. She was always…unique in her definitions of fun. One could only imagine the roller coaster you were riding.

When you make your way to your apartment, you just breathe. Breathing is the only thing that can stabilize you. The jumble of nerves that bounce around inside of you relaxes at your exhales. You're not shaking anymore, or feeling your skin heat and clam up, making it easy to lead Kafka into her room.

“Oh, wow. All this space, all alone? You've really grown up, little mouse.” She compliments with a sigh. The box in her hands now sits on the ground. You flush, dusting your hands on your shirt, “Oh, thanks. Mom helps from time to time.” Even though you would much rather have your independence.

She looks around at the space, the room occupied by nothing except a naked bed and an empty dresser. It's an awkward 30-second silence before she breaks it, “Thank you, again. You're really saving my ass,”

And again, you're wrapped in Kafka’s arms, forced to awkwardly pat her back and stare at the wall across from you as if it were to save you. “No problem…again,”

The hug you share births goosebumps on your skin. Her hands glide across the small of your back, nimble fingers dancing lightly across the surface. The tickle is the least of your worries — the blooms of heat that surge in her wake are what blows your eyes wide open. Kafka’s hugs are tight and warm. Almost comforting if it wasn't for the way she ghosted her lips over your ear just right, making you tense. You hate it because it's something you've grown used to. You like it a lot more than you probably should, actively leaning into her touch after a few seconds.

“We should probably get the rest of your boxes…” You mutter. Kafka sighs, pulling off of you slowly. It's almost as if she's savoring the feeling of you in her hands. “I’ll get them. I shouldn't inconvenience you more—”

“—It’s fine. I don't mind helping,” She laughs and squishes your cheeks between her fingers, “You're too cute.” booping your nose for emphasis.

And she couldn't stop saying it. It almost felt condescending the way “You're so cute,” fell from her lips every time you did something. Your out-of-breath huffs or triumphant sighs elicited the remark again and again as you hauled her luggage up to your apartment. You gave up by the last box and stretched out on her floor, and Kafka only laughs harder as she begins to unpack.

“Do you want me to help you?” You groggily breathe out. Moving is exhausting, and you're not even the one moving.

Tucking the sleeves of the shirt as she folds, Kafka shakes her head no with a chuckle. “You can help me by showering. I'll finish up and order some food, ‘kay? Consider it my thanks.”

“But you've already thanked me—” “—And I'm doing it again.” She cuts you off. Your eyes meet and she cracks a smile, “C’mon, up you go. The longer you take, the longer you have to wait to sleep.”

Kafka is someone impossible to argue with. You swipe your tongue over your teeth to fight off a smile…but her gaze is warm. It makes you nervous in the weirdest way, and your lips stretch wide. Defeatedly, you nod, “If you say so.”

ೀ

The sun retired for the night and in an hour, you'd showered, dressed, met Kafka in the living room, caught up with a shot or two slipped in the mix, and dug into the XL pizza she ordered. It was your favorite toppings—you were shocked, to say the least, that she remembered.

“Enough about me,” She grabs hold of the conversation, placing her plate down on the coffee table—and you hide the cringing your face defaults to with a crooked smile and nod. “What about you? How was finishing high school? Starting university? Is Mom still…Mom?”

You awkwardly giggle, placing the plate in your lap. “The answer to the last question is yes. She's never changing, I fear.”

“But…I've been good, really. I keep saying it but it's true; grades are good, friends are good, and Mom is as good as she could get—” more laughter, “—but, yeah. I'm not traveling like you, Kafka. I barely leave my apartment unless it's to go to class. I'm stable, and I'm good. Nothing to tell.”

Kafka eyes you critically as if she's trying to read you. There's nothing to find because as you said, there's nothing to tell. You've always been the stickler goody-two-shoes type: abiding by rules and expectations and never deviating from your white-picket-lined path. It wasn't perfect, and never always good, but it was enough. Enough that you could say with your whole chest that you're okay with being boring…because, well—it’s all you've really known.

She walked into your life as your sister at eleven and walked right back out at fifteen. In four years, you'd been enlightened to a dark side of the world, but you were always too timid. Kafka was a playful cat, ready to paw at her sheepish little mouse until you played back.

Back then, you were too young, and under the palm of your mother to enter rebellion. Now, you're free…somewhat. Kafka was determined to help you spread your wings. She was going to plant the seed in your ear and let it sprout: “It’s your world,” She says. “isn't it about time you live? The way you want to? You're a big girl now — you deserve a story to tell.”

She can tell by the widening of your eyes that the conversation is bordering on too much. “Uhh, I don't know. I'm happy right now—”

“Happiness is temporary. Memories are forever.”

And while she makes a good point…what exactly would you do? How?

Her head tilts and her eyebrow lifts tentatively. She wants to ask how far are you willing to go, but the conversation is far too premature. “It all depends on you, little mouse,” is what she settles on instead. “I’ll be ready to lend a helping hand when you need me.”

The conversation takes a thoughtful pause. Your head seems to fill with thoughts and returning to her now chilled pizza, Kafka pats herself on the back. You're going to spread your wings and flourish, and she prides herself on giving you the route. It's only a matter of time, she thinks. A matter of time before the real fun emerges.

“Oh, by the way,” she interrupts the silence, “do you mind if I have a few friends over tomorrow? They wanna throw me a housewarming party.”

“Um, no, it's fine. My study group is coming over tomorrow after my classes so try maybe before? Or after that—we won't take long.” You miss the deviousness in her smirk.

With a final bite of her pizza, she nods. “Of course.”

ೀ

Jing Yuan is so charming.

He flashes you a Cheshire smile and you find yourself stumbling over your sentences. You palm your face, embarrassed, and let out a shy giggle. His deep chuckle follows and you almost don't want to look at him again.

Fu Xuan kisses her teeth and rolls her eyes. “Lay off the flirting, would you? Can't leave you two alone for a second...”

She joins the pair of you at the end of the courtyard, golden eyes narrowing. There's an awkwardness that creeps up, and you smile nervously while Jing Yuan scratches his neck. He displays a coy smirk that you avoid looking at — opting to rock on your heels and check in the distance for Yukong.

You and Jing Yuan are classmates; friends, even, if he were to agree with that sentiment. Though your crowds don't particularly mix, you find some comfort in one another. Albeit, most of your time is spent tutoring him. It's nice, nonetheless.

You're not opposed to liking him—in fact, you're smitten with him—but you doubt the feeling is mutual. He's Jing Yuan and you're…you.

His question reaches your ears, breaching your train of thought: “Is Yukong still joining us?”

The way he turns to you makes you shy, and you shrug in place of your words. “Umm, ‘dunno. She said so, but something must’ve come up.”

“Well, in any case, let’s just head to yours. She has the address.” Fu Xuan replies exasperatedly. Jing Yuan shrugs, “If that’s okay with you?”

You perk up at his kindness, and Fu Xuan groans, rolling her eyes. “Uh, yeah! Sure!” With your eyes glued to Jing Yuan’s pleased smile, you miss how Fu Xuan mocks you.

“Can we go now?!”

The three of you quickly commute back to your apartment. It's a nice fifteen-minute walk—even nicer when Jing Yuan let you talk his ear off the entire way. Fu Xuan was paces ahead of the two of you, grumbling under her breath about how she should've said no and cursing to Yukong for leaving her with you.

You've been studying together for a while, but you've never brought them over. Your sessions usually take place at the campus library or the local cafe, so to say you're a bit nervous is an understatement.

Not only have they never been over, but you have Kafka. She’s a wildcard and you can only pray that she's on her best behavior.

Your key spins in the hole and you push the door open. Over your shoulder, you mutter, “I think my…sister’s home so she might come and say hi.”

You hope that's the most that she’ll do.

Upon entry, there's a potent, herbal smell floating around the air. It's slightly smoky, and your throat tightens up. You turn around at your guests and cringe at their upturned noses and scrutinizing gazes. “Uhh…”

“Wait right here…um…” you murmur. You don't wait for their responses before speeding toward Kafka’s room.

The stench is stronger in the hallway and her music is even louder. The bass jumps through the floorboards and you doubt she’ll even hear your knocks — but you do it anyway. Knock knock knock.

No response.

You bounce on your heels nervously, peeking out and seeing Jing Yuan and Fu Xuan talking awkwardly by the door. Your nerves overcome you and you hurriedly knock again. “Kafka! I need to talk to you — Kafka!!”

You keep knocking on the door until the music stops and the door swings open. A cloud of smoke hits you immediately and you fall into a coughing fit, waving the smoke out of your face. “Good God…”

“Oh—my bad!” She laughs at you, turning over her shoulder to her friends and sharing the amusement. Her heavy-lidded eyes fall back onto you, and she leans on the door for support. “What do you need, little mouse?”

“Um…” you look over her shoulder and see her guests in her room. A silver-haired girl rests on her bed and types away on her phone, and a black-haired guy sits on the floor - his low eyes on you as he breathes out a cloud of smoke. You didn't know what to expect but you aren't surprised. You're more…uncomfortable. “Um, yeah — my study group is over and it smells like…yeah.”

Her eyes widen and she slaps a hand over her mouth. “That's right now?! Oh, I'm sorry—Silvie and Bladie came over early and I didn't know you’d be back so soon.”

Silvie and Bladie…interesting names.

You nod to her response. “…Yeah…I don't mind you…smoking or whatever but please open a window? It's very strong and it travels and I don't want the landlord to throw a fit.”

“Yeah, of course. Bladie!” She calls out over her shoulder. The guy—Bladie—doesn’t respond, but only perks up. “Crack open the window, yeah?”

And he just…complies. You're almost amazed at how he just listened and pushed the glass open, the cool evening breeze drafting into the bedroom instantly.

Kafka turns around as though it is normal. “There we go,” She giggles.

“Thanks.” You mutter, nodding your head. She winks at you as she shuts the door. You hear her shutting down a remark made by…Silvie and a barrage of laughter.

You make your way to the door where, thankfully, Jing Yuan and Fu Xuan still stand.

“Everything alright?” Jing Yuan asked. He immediately turns to face you, and suddenly your good mood sparks back up. You nod, “Mhm. She has a few friends over too but…I’m sure it won't be too bad.”

You welcome them in, all piling into your living room and crowding around the dining table.

Jing Yuan pulls his laptop out of his bag and sets it on the table. “I did awful on the last test…” he informs, presumably going back to the gradebook. “55%…”

Fu Xuan bursts into laughter. “No wonder you need both of us to help you study! Good lord!!”

You ignore her teasing and pull out your books. “What do you need help with?”

She's quick to cut him off, “Clearly everything if that grade is anything to go by…!”

“Xuan, stop!!”

Her laughter continues, and Jing Yuan waves her off. “The musings of a jealous nobody don't affect me,” and now it's your turn to laugh. “I'm here to get help so I don't mind going through everything. If you're okay with that, of course.”

“It’s fine, yeah—I’m fine with that! Um, let me just get my…” You trail off, sifting through your bundles of papers in your folders. You try to ignore the burn his gaze lays on your skin. He props his head on his fist as he leans on your table and God, does it make you feel special.

Fu Xuan bites back at his remark, “I'm not jealous and I'm definitely not a nobody! Watch your mouth, Jing Yuan!!”

And now it's your turn to internally curse Yukong.

“Here we go!” You pull out the review packets you made yourself — something you pride yourself on. You lay them on the table for him, eliciting a difference in reactions from your guests.

Fu Xuan sees the packets and rolls her eyes, “Only you would make your own review packets.”

And Jing Yuan instead muses at the sight, “No—it’s cool. Resourceful. I like that.”

And I like you, you want to say. You decide to keep that to yourself and only smile in response to play coy.

“This one is from the first couple of lessons, these two were for the quizzes, and the rest are for a few lessons in between.” You inform, pointing at each packet. “I also have some flashcards and some annotations; let me find them…”

“Look, all you need to do is read the textbooks. All the information is in there.” Fu Xuan argues, taking one of your packets for herself and flipping through it. “Do you read, Jing Yuan?”

“I read, thank you very much.”

“Yeah, so do I — but that doesn't help everyone, Xuan.” You snatch the packet out of her hand, laying it on the table. “But whatever. Do you think this will help you?”

Jing Yuan nods, gratefully. He takes a packet for himself, flipping through it. “You mind showing me how you use them?”

And with a flustered smile, you nod, immediately scooting closer to direct him.

You show Yuan your method: using his notebook to write down what he remembers, going back and adding things he didn't remember, and working out everything in between with what's in the packet. Your mother taught you the method during your eighth-grade year after your grades slipped and since then, you've sworn by it.

Fu Xuan uses this time to tease and ridicule him, occasionally aiding with her…aggressive technique whenever he stumbles over a particular concept.

You share some laughs and rambles along the way, and you’re given a side of Jing Yuan you never thought you’d get. He's surprisingly easy to talk to, and you don't know if he's actually that funny or if you're just that into him — but either way, you enjoy it. He makes your cheeks hot and your smile wider.

He’s always been your campus crush — but he’s everybody’s. You're not special but the way he's looking at you makes you feel as such. You hope that maybe he’ll ask you to tutor him again and maybe it’ll just be the two of you. Without Fu Xuan’s teasing and complaints.

After about an hour, he starts to get the hang of it. He’s focused and his attentiveness leaves you and Fu Xuan the time to talk.

You drown out her complaints about the sorority not allowing her in to focus on the presence of Kafka’s friend in your kitchen. She stands on her tippy-toes to rummage through your cabinets, groaning and slamming her palms on the countertop. “Uhh…do you need something?”

The girl turns around, “Food! Where the hell are all of your snacks?!”

“Um…” You don't get to respond. She stomps into your living room, shoving her hand into the bag of pretzels Fu Xuan brought. “Excuse me!!!”

She shoves the handful in her mouth, crunching obnoxiously. “Those are so fucking dry…” She complains, turning back into your kitchen and rummaging through your fridge.

Your last Kombucha is taken, popped open, and gulped down right before your eyes. You were going to drink that.

With an unabashed burp, the girl sets the bottle down and turns to you. “Hey, little mouse!”

“That's not my name—”

“Can you order some food, please? I feel like I'm being fucking punished.” And she continues to ramble, “Was I a bad girl? Do bad girls not get to eat?” And she falls into a fit of laughter.

You're uncomfortable. You know Fu Xuan and Jing Yuan must be too. This is just awkward, and embarrassing on your behalf.

“Can you get some pizza? Ooh, no, better yet, chili oil beef stew. Do they deliver that?” No. The answer is no. “Hold on, I’ll get the money.”

She scurries back into Kafka’s room with a heavy slam of the door. The three of you turn to each other, and you nervously laugh. How embarrassing.

“Is that your sister?” Jing Yuan asks. Oh God, he probably feels so uncomfortable.

“No! That's her friend…sorry about that.”

“She needs to pay me for a new bag of pretzels! I don't know where her hands have been and I'm definitely not eating that.” Fu Xuan huffs, crossing her arms and crumpling up the bag. You laugh at how she lightens the mood, but turn your gaze to Jing Yuan who's now focused back on his work. Great. You blew it.

Out comes Kafka’s friend, stomping toward you and shoving some bills into your chest. “Here you go! Keep the change,”

You don't want her change. But you don't protest — instead, you call up Delicacy Pavillion. “Hi, can I place an order?”

ೀ

The walk back to your apartment from Delicacy Pavillion feels like a walk of shame. You're even more ashamed because Jing Yuan decided to tag along and Fu Xuan decided to take her cue and leave. Now you're alone. With him. In the middle of the evening. Picking up delicious food for your ex-step-sister and her friends.

He offered to walk with you—“I don't mind. Besides, what kind of guy would I be if I let a pretty girl like you go out all by yourself?” You're not strong enough to deny his flattery, and so here you are.

Now that Xuan is gone, you don't know what to talk to him about. Or how to talk to him. You opt to keep your mum, humming a song you’d heard in passing lowly to yourself. Five minutes away and this day will finally be over.

“Are you and your sister close?” He breaks the silence.

You turn to him, “Ah, well — she’s not really my sister. Our parents were married for a while but they divorced now. A while ago, actually. We aren't close but…yeah.”

“Interesting…” He comments. “Yeah…”

“I don't mean interesting in a bad way—I’m interested…in you.”

Oh.

“You're interested…in me?” Your heart is practically jumping out of your chest. You can't hide the flattered smile that curls your lips.

He chuckles, stuffing his hands in his pockets and throwing his head back. “Ha, yeah. Of course — how couldn't I be? You're sweet, very smart…” He turns to look at you. Your eyes lock, “…very cute, too.”

It's like he wants you dead.

You immediately avert your gaze, nudging him in the side. “You're just messing with me.”

“If that's what you believe.” He shrugs, a playful grin resting on his face.

Now you don't know what to believe. But you're going to choose to believe that he means it.

“I'm interested in you too.” You sweetly proclaim, unable to wipe the big grin off of your face. His cheeks flush a pretty rose color, and his smile turns coy. The quiet you two fall into is much more comfortable and much lighter, and now you wish that your time with him won't end.

The pair of you make it to your apartment building, and when you stand in the elevator, you avoid his gaze. He watches you through the reflection of the elevator doors, and his smirk grows as he watches you try not to look at him.

He takes a step closer to you and when his hand swings your fingers brush and you almost drop the bag full of food. He knows how to make you flustered and how to make you smiley.

“Cute,” He mutters. He's not the only one who thinks that.

Jing Yuan does the gentlemanly thing and walks you to your door. As soon as you fish your keys out of your pocket, he pulls you into a hug. His arms are big and muscular and so warm — you immediately hug him back and wrap your arms around his waist.

“See you,” He says, rubbing the small of your back. You timidly respond, “See you.”

The smile on your face is prominent even as he walks away. Even as you walk into your apartment, coming face to face with a ruckus you never thought you’d have the displeasure of walking into.

Kafka and her guy friend are planted on the couch, the strong smoke smell clearly following them into the living room. And the girl…she lay on the floor still swiping away — but as soon as you closed the door behind you, she hopped up. “Yes—fucking finally!”

She bolts over to you and steals the bag out of your hand, “Thank fuck!! I'm so damn hungry!!!”

Kafka gets up, her guy friend immediately following. She smiles at you, coming to wrap you in a hug. “Ohhh, thank you, babe.” And she plants a firm kiss on your cheek. You feel the stain of her lipgloss on your skin, and cringe at it, only nodding and smiling as if to say “You're welcome.”

“I’m going to shower and go to bed…so uh, can you keep it down some?” You say, walking in the direction of the bathroom.

They barely hear you and focus on digging into their food. With a defeated sigh, you stalk away.

And with your back turned, the strict gaze on your disappearing frame is missed.

He’ll see you again, though.

ೀ

“I want you to formally meet my friends,” Not even a greeting as you entered the door. A hi, hello, or how was your day? would have been nice.

“Hello to you too, Kafka.” You quip, taking off your shoes and stretching your aching toes.

“Hi, little mouse,” she sarcastically chirps. She places her drink on the coffee table and you try to ignore the lack of a coaster - instead bracing yourself for the embrace she pulls you in. “Mm, you seem tense; your day went okay?”

You nod. Not quite, is the answer you hold on your tongue, swallowing it down and hiding a grimace beneath your smile.

Jing Yuan hadn't spoken to you all day. He didn't even look at you — his attention was focused on Tingyun. Pretty, brown-haired Tingyun with the charming smile and warmest aura…she’s now your competition, and from what you saw today, she’s leagues ahead of you. Hanging off of his arm like it's her lifeline and encapsulating his gaze in the palm of her hand. You almost stormed out of the lecture when her hands brushed his cheeks, her thumb swiping over his beauty mark.

He's just trying to make you jealous. That thought was supposed to comfort you but it made you even more upset. As soon as your professor shut his mouth you were out of there, leaving dust in your wake as you sped toward the library.

You needed to decompress and distract yourself. You were buried in a book when a touch you remembered too well landed on your shoulder. “I was looking for you.” He says.

Looking for me my ass, you think. But the sentiment warms you, nonetheless, and a smile pulls across your lips. “Here I am.”

“Here you are,” The tone of his voice makes you want to rip the hair off of your scalp. He's so sweetly condescending, so sultry and you can just get lost in his melody. He's like Kafka that way—wait. Nevermind…

“Can I take you out tomorrow night?” The suddenness of his question has you jostled, and the substance of the question has you flustered. Jing Yuan wants to take you out???

You're mad at him, though. He can just take Tingyun for all you ca—“Of course—er, I mean, sure. Why not?”

Fuck.

He chuckles at your stumbling, burying his hands in his pockets. His forearms scream at you as they clearly come into your line of sight — the image to be cherished and forever forefronted in your memory. Why is every part of him so attractive? “Great. I’ll text you later.”

And he squeezes your shoulder as he walks in the opposite direction. Fucking hell.

You're just pissed off. At yourself, at Tingyun, at Jing Yuan — you hate that he made you giddy and excited and you couldn't stop smiling to yourself even as you walked home alone.

He asked you, not Tingyun. Surely, if he wanted her, he’d be taking her out tomorrow, not you.

“So, tomorrow at…5? Is that cool?”

What? “Huh? Sorry,”

Kafka sighs, “I want you to meet my friends. It’ll be like…totally chill and just cool so don't freak out and think some type of formal meet-the-parents shit.”

“Is tomorrow at 5 good for you?” You’d be wrong if you said no. Kafka is trying. “Yeah, um, I guess,”

“Yay! This wasn't my idea, by the way — they want to meet you,” They do? “Really?”

She walks back over to the couch and plops down, downing a gulp of her pink Monster Energy. “Mhm. Silver wants to know how we could ever be sisters, and Bladie…” She takes a pause, having a short laugh to herself, “Let’s just say he’s taken a liking to you.”

You're confused by her statement but you don't press further. You're not sure you want to know.

“Um…I’m going out tomorrow, so,” “We won’t keep you long,” She shrugs.

Your subtly doesn’t work well—you mean to decline the offer. “Okay then,”

You begin to awkwardly walk to your bedroom, Kafka’s voice following you down the hall. “Hey, are you hungry?”

“I’m good.” You answer back. As good as you could be.

┄┄

With the nth layer of lip gloss slathered across your lips, you break into a smile at your reflection.

You’re pretty.

All dolled up: not a single fly-away or stray, cheek-housed eyelash, flawless base, and a perfectly ironed outfit describe your appearance. You spent the better half of your afternoon in the bathroom shaving, plucking, exfoliating, and giggling to yourself about your date with Jing Yuan.

You’ve never looked better. You don't think you’ve smiled this much in your life.

“You look so pretty, babe!” Yukong chimes. Her eyes gleam over the pixelated image on your phone. “So, what type of date is it? …It is a date, right?”

“Well, he didn't say it was a date—but he asked to take me out. What does that mean if not a date?” It's all semantics. Date schmate; at the end of the day it's you and him together. Alone. “He didn't…discuss the details. All I know is that he’s coming at 5:30 to get me.”

Interesting…

“It’s kinda…sexy. Like ooh, surprise me.” You add, giggling.

Right…

“If you say so…” Yukong sighs out. You laugh, missing the sarcasm thick in her tone.

“Well, anyway, I should get going.” You check the time: the digital numbers read 5:05. You're early, but, hey— better safe than sorry. “Call you later, love you!”

Yukong smiles and throws up a peace sign and ends the Facetime.

The hefty laughter from the other side of your door bulldozes through your silence, reminding you. Damn it.

Another small smile in the mirror and you get up from your vanity. You grab your clutch and walk out and into an atmosphere of laughter and…blueberries?

You wave the scent out of your face, and as if it were perfectly timed, the chatter died down and heads turned to you. Your hand fell to your side and you immediately made eye contact with her.

“Ohh, little mouse!!!” Kafka squeals, dragging out the nickname sing-songily. She skips to you, a hand nudging your shoulder. “Look at you!! Look at her guys!” She turns to her friends, grinning wide.

The pair raise their heads, faces morphing in opposite ways of one another in response. The silver-haired girl takes a brief puff from her seemingly blueberry-scented e-cigarette, “Woww, would you look at that?”

She turns to the guy beside her with an escaping smile, “You clean up nice, little mouse.” She compliments.

You cringe at the nickname leaving her lips, nodding. “Thanks…”

“What do you think, Bladie?” Kafka calls out, one arm pulling you close to her and the other swiping down in a showcasing movement. He perks up instantly and looks completely uncomfortable. He avoids looking into your eyes at all costs.

You feel bad. You tuck your clutch under your arm and raise your hands in defense, “No, no, it's okay. Kafka…you shouldn't…”

“Nope—it’s only right I tease you like this,” She rebuts. Her grin shortens to a smirk and her hand squeezes your arm, pulling you closer. “Mom’s not here; somebody’s gotta be the one to nag,”

It's a good thing your mother is not here. You moved out to get away from her. You only awkwardly laugh in response, shooting an awkwardly apologetic face toward Bladie.

“Uh…pretty,” He comments. “You look nice.”

It's only now that you realize you haven't heard his voice yet. And, woah. Wow.

“U-um, thank you. Ha…” You stumble out, growing flustered at your stuttering.

Kafka laughs, sending a look towards him that you miss. “Anyway,” she diverts, “these are my two companions: Silver and Blade.” She points at the pair respectively and they each emote.

“The two most important people in my life. After you, of course,” She informs, fingers nipping at the fat of your cheek teasingly. “What about Elio?”

She shrugs. “Oh, yeah. Him too,” and she and Silver burst into laughter.

Kafka introduces you to them after the laughter dies down, making sure to include “My little sister,”

“Ex-step-sister-now-roommate,” you correct. Silver chortles at your sass and Kafka sends you a narrowed stare. “You're right. My favorite ex-step-sister-now-roommate: my little mouse,”

“Wait, you mean to tell me you have other ex-step-sisters-now-roommates?” Silver jokes, laughing at her own joke. She slaps Blade on his arm to urge him to laugh along — to which he maintains his rigid posture and awkwardly avoids the scene.

Kafka walks the pair of you into the room, toward the couch opposite Silver and Blade. You sense an immediate switch; almost as if you’d changed realities. The air was suffocating in a way you couldn't understand. It was something deeper than awkwardness, something less juvenile than embarrassment. It was palpable: it hurt to swallow when you gulped nervously.

Silver blows another cloud of smoke toward your face, and when the fog dissipates you're met with the mischief on her face, “Sooo,” she drags, “what do you do for a living? This is a nice apartment you got,”

Small talk. You can do small talk. “Um, thanks! I mostly do tutoring and babysitting. But sometimes my mom helps out.”

Her face crinkles up in confusion. “Tutoring pays for all this???”

You laugh, “You’d be surprised at how much people are willing to pay for good grades. I mainly work with middle schoolers who aren't doing too well and their parents are so desperate. They’ll pay just about anything.” You slightly exaggerate the circumstances of your job. There's only one kid you tutor regularly and you've already begun discounting him because of his relation to Jing Yuan. It's a good thing Kafka moved in — the rent was beginning to look a bit dangerous.

“Ohh, interesting. What a hustler,” Silver jokes. Kafka laughs right alongside her, nudging your side with her elbow. “Fitting right in with us.”

The group bursts into a fit of laughter — even Blade spits out a few chuckles — and all you can do is awkwardly laugh along. You feel like a sore thumb: dolled up in your pretty blue outfit while your roommate and her friends are dressed in sweats and assortments of band tees. They laugh at a joke you don't quite understand and share glances that speak an entirely different language from you.

You want the time to speed up. You're waiting for Jing Yuan to save you from this awkward tension like the knight in shining armor he is and whisk you off to the date he planned.

Getting out of here would be so nice. You won't have to hear them poke and prod and tease and you wouldn't be scared to look left. Blade’s gaze is so intense. Goosebumps have risen on your skin from the sheer atmosphere it induces — is he doing this on purpose? He has to be. Kafka must have put him up to it.

It eases you to think that she’s just being herself: her playful, mischievous, dangerous self. In a week she’ll get bored, they’ll stop messing with you, and they’ll find something else to do. That's the way it's always been with Kafka and it helps you to relax.

But it's his stare. The way his eyes shyly rake you up and down again and again. He drinks in the sight of you and doesn't react — he’s committing you to memory and every time he takes a reprieve, his eyes thirst for more and wander right back to you. Kafka notices it. Silver notices it. You notice it. Everybody but Blade can see the way he looks at you: as though he could eat you whole.

He watches your face light up when your phone buzzes and you pull it out of your clutch. Thank the heavens; it’s Jing Yuan.

‘be there in 10. ;)’ He texts. ‘okayyyy <3 see you!’ You text back. Too flirty? Too excited? Oh, God. He hearts your message and your smile grows wider.

Blade wants to say how he wants to be the one to make you smile like that, but it's too early for that. He’ll opt for admiring you, instead, thinking to himself about how pretty you look grinning so wide and how pretty you probably look with his c—

Knock knock knock. That was fast.

You nearly jump off of the couch to answer the door, skirt flaring in the air as you skip to the door. Kafka watches with amusement thick on her face. You're so cute, a guy like Jing Yuan doesn't deserve you.

The door swings open and there he stands. His hair is pushed into a high ponytail and he’s clad in a simple outfit—but God, does he make it look good. “Hey there, pretty girl.”

His greeting awakens butterflies in your stomach. “Hi…” You reply shyly. He smiles at your nervousness and holds his hand out for you to grab, “You ready to go?” You nod almost immediately.

Before Kafka can open her mouth and trap the two of you there, you announce your departure and leave with a wave, slamming the door behind you. The group all share looks, and her smile can't help but get wider. “She’s so cute,”

“Wouldn't you agree, Blade?” Silver teases. Growing embarrassed, he lowers his head. “Oh my God!” She laughs, hitting the couch cushion. “You totally wanna fuck her!”

Blade doesn't respond. Silver turns to Kafka mouth wide, eyes blown, “He wants to fuck your sister, Kaf!” Don't we all?

Kafka sits in between her two friends, placing a warm hand on Blade’s shoulder. He immediately relaxes but keeps his gaze tied to the ground. “It’s okay, Bladie,”

“It happens to the best of us.”

┄┄

“I’m not going to lie,” Jing Yuan breaks the silence, “I didn't have a clue on what to plan. I just knew I wanted to see you again.”

His flattery is out of this world. He has you feeling so special, so wanted—you turn to look at him and just stare in disbelief. The Jing Yuan is driving you in his nice-ass BMW to a date that he asked you out on. Lucky girl syndrome is so real. “It’s okay, I’m not picky.”

“I like that.” He laughs out. “I like you.” His right hand abandons the steering wheel, traveling to your exposed thigh. His touch is light, tempting. He’s testing the waters, and only does he let his hand rest wholly on your thigh when your breath hitches but you don't stop him. He spares you a glance, a smirk drawn on his face when you briefly lock eyes.

“I think you said that before,” You lighten the mood. Your words sound breathless, clambering out of your throat nervously. “Oh, have I?” His hand creeps upward, now sheathing itself beneath your skirt. His fingers tap on your thighs — he’s teasing, waiting for a reaction.

You hum in response, now gluing your eyes to the dashboard because if you look down, you're going to explode.

“Guess I really have to let you know, then.”

“Guess so,” You respond. His hand only lies on your leg, not traveling any further. He pulls into the parking lot of the movie theater. Not your idea of the perfect first date, but maybe he has more planned.

You get out, immediately locking hands and walking side by side into the theater. He opens the door for you, leads you to the ticket stand, and the hold on your hand never falters. He uses it to pull you closer, letting his arm drape around your waist and his fingers tap along your skin. He’s setting you ablaze, burning you with every gesture he does.

You don't even care about the movie—Sky-Faring Commission 8, you think—you’re too focused on Jing Yuan. He drapes you in his jacket and wraps his arm around your shoulder when you get seated. He whispers a joke to you about the previews and laughs into your hair to not disturb others around you. And when the movie gets to a particularly boring part, he finds himself leaning on your shoulder.

His lips are featherlight as he ghosts over your skin. You act as though you don't feel it — gluing your eyes to the movie screen. You couldn't care less about the melodramatic climax on the screen. It didn't matter to you, it didn't register in your mind as important. He was so close, breathing in your sweet perfume and brushing his lips against your skin when he smiled. Oh God, you subconsciously lean towards him, letting out a sigh when puckered lips connect with your neck.

He places another kiss, and then another - readjusting his position to lead a trail upwards. The kisses grow larger distances as he eagerly travels to your lips. His hand reaches over and grabs the side of your face. You couldn't turn to look at him on your own: filled with too much anxiety and nerves to bear the connection.

Your eyes lock - a desire in his juxtaposing with the shyness in yours. He needed you, leaning in swiftly and collecting a kiss.

His tongue abrasively weaves its way into your mouth, sloppily licking around and tangling with yours. He was so powerful: overwhelming and all-consuming. You could only sit there weakly, trying your best to keep up with him.

Yuan is no dummy. He can tell you're not all into it. You sit rigidly and lack any eagerness to kiss him back.

“You nervous?” He whispers against your lips. His hand on your face slips down to your waist with a comforting squeeze in tow. You crack a smile nervously, “Never done this before. Well, like, in this way…”

He's quick to recover from the twinge of annoyance that surges within him. “‘Ts okay. I got you,”

He leans in, hand slipping to your thigh. It's almost cinematic — the movie flickers in deep reds and blacks as an action sequence plays and your silhouettes form on the wall behind you. He's so close, so tempting that you can't help but take in his words. “I’ll take care of you.” He says. And you fall for it.

And he kisses you even slower, more sultry. There's an enthusiastic flame in his kiss — he just wants you to give it up. Let him take you, let him have you. It's not like you don't want it.

As he kisses go deeper, hungrier with teeth sinking into your lip and lips sucking around your tongue, his hand slinks up your skirt. He plays with the band of your panties, feeling the soft material. His fingers roll and entangle in the fabric, feeling the slight jolt of your hips when his touch caresses your skin.

He shoves his tongue down your throat to keep you silent, pushing his hand further onward and cupping your cunt.

Your thighs immediately crush around his wrist. He’s trapped in your heat, feeling the throb of your clit against him. He bites your bottom lip with a smile as he presses his palm flat against you. The applied pressure to your clit has the bud stiffening.

God, you want him. You want him so bad.

You have to stop yourself from moaning and squirming. You’ll literally die if you get caught.

“I want you so bad, baby,” he whispers, pulling away. He kisses your jawline and rubs his hand against your pussy. The feeling is beyond mutual, you think. You can't do this, though. Not here.

You hum in response to him, fearing that any other response may be too loud. Feeling a premature knot gnarl in your stomach makes you panic and grab his arm. You can't cum yet—and definitely not here.

“Too much?” He laughs against your lips. He tries to sink his arm deeper between your thighs and your hips run away. “‘M sorry. How about we get outta here?

Locking eyes with him has you shyly saying yes. You don't have sex on the first date—Jing Yuan or not.

But your body seems to crave him. To want him and in this circumstance, you can be able to bend your rules. “Okay,”

You quickly exit the theater hand in hand with an unimportant amount of time left in the movie. There was a strange feeling swarming in your gut: akin to a thrill with a tickle of unsureness. You chalk it up to butterflies. It's just nervousness because the dream you've held onto ever since you first laid eyes on him is coming to fruition. You've always wanted Jing Yuan. You always wanted to be his.

He drives the car shortly to the parking lot of a shut-down arcade, parking his car and immediately clambering to the backseat with you. It was like he couldn't wait - like he was going to die without you. It's hot.

His hands immediately grab your hips and his lips overtake yours. He slowly lays you against the leather seats, wasting no time. He's making quick and agile movements: hands slipping under your shirt and cupping your breasts and lips wrapping around nips of skin.

You gasp, arching your back into him. “You're so sexy,” He moans, fondling you messily, needily.

“T-thank you…” You stutter out.

He kisses down to the neckline of your shirt, pushing the fabric up and going under to kiss around your chest. His lips replace his hands, the latter rehoming on your thighs and pushing your skirt up. His lips attach and suck around the top of your boob as his hands pry your legs apart, fingers dancing up toward your core.

You moan out softly. His tongue swipes across your flesh and his middle finger walks through your slit. “You’re so wet,” he comments, pressing your clit down with intense pressure.

A weak whimper dances from your lips and he laughs contently.

He continues to rub your clit while kissing your skin, turning your flames up so high that your body burns to the touch. A sticky sound resonates off of the interior of the car, sloshing grossly as your airy moans attempt to compete with it. Your pussy drips, your hole spasming as he teases you further and further.

You never thought you’d be in Jing Yuan’s backseat about to get finger fucked—and as much as you want to, you just - you can't.

His finger circles your entrance, ever so teasingly and you tense up. You pull away almost immediately, snapping your legs tightly shut and beginning to sit up. “Sorry, I’m sorry,”

Yuan takes a seat opposite from you, brushing his fallen hair out of his face with a huff. He gives you time to adjust your clothes, staring out of the front windshield. He looks…bummed, dissatisfied and you feel terrible. “Trust me, it's not a you thing. I just…I dunno. I'm not comfortable with what I don't know,”

“Nah, it's good. You're good.” He sends you a short smile, “Don’t worry about it.”

And you don't want to worry about it, but you can't not. There's an obvious tent in his pants and a frustration hidden beneath his appearance — you blue-balled him beyond measure and made it awkward. He’s probably never asking you out again.

In an attempt to ease the tension, you offer an alternative: “Wanna get something to eat? My treat.”

Taking a look at you breaks a smile on his face, and he nods. “Why not?”

┄┄

The date could have gone worse.

That's what you tell yourself as you ride the elevator up to your apartment, alone.

He had to go, he told you. “Text me before you go to bed, alright?” And that made you feel better, somewhat. He could have told you to delete his number and never go anywhere with him again, so you count this as a win.

You can't shake the tension, though. It's better than whatever the hell you, Kafka, and her friends had floating around, however, it's just as uncomfortable. The elephant in the room is humongous, but neither of you dare step on its toes. You don't blame him for feeling some type of way, but he shouldn't blame you either, right?

“Welcome back! How was your date?” Kafka questions as you walk in the door. Silver and Blade are still here, the latter on his phone and the former focusing on her strawberry crunch ice cream bar. You wave at Kafka, removing your shoes and remembering you still have Yuan’s jacket. You won't leave it out for it to get dirty with the Three Musketeers running around your apartment.

“It was good,” you reveal softly. “I’ll tell you about it tomorrow. I’m really tired so I’m just gonna go shower and go to bed.”

Kafka nods, waving you off, “Alright; good night, little mouse!”

You get into your bedroom and don't even think twice. Your clothes are stripped off and strewn across your floor but you make sure to place Yuan’s jacket on your vanity. Your hair goes up and your body wraps in your towel, a quick commute to the bathroom across the hall to wash today off of your body.

Warm water splashes over your skin, soapy clouds run down your body as you scrub. You still feel embarrassed — the scene of you quitting on Yuan replays every time you close your eyes. You're mad at yourself because you know you want him, you always have, and you fumbled your opportunity badly. It's embarrassing for you and him. You fear it's an event you can never forget.

Twenty minutes of pouring the stress and dirt and Jing Yuan down the drain and you're finally ready to sleep. Body clean, pajamas on, makeup off, and skin care on, you climb into bed and immediately grab your phone.

‘just heading to bed c:’ You text. You twiddle your thumbs for half a second before you start typing again: ‘i did enjoy our date today btw…hope u don’t get the wrong impression cause i’d love to go out w u again <3’

That’s good. He knows how you feel, you've said your peace and lifted the weight off of your chest. You turn your phone off and rollover. Off to dreamland you go—

Ding!

Your eyes shoot open. Ding! And now you're rolling back over, grabbing your phone, and squinting at the initial brightness.

‘don’t worry abt it haha’ He texts back. ‘it’s my fault, I should’ve asked’

Your fingers press and heart his message, quick to move to the keyboard and begin typing. But before you finish, another text from him rolls in: ‘i’m glad you enjoyed it. it’d be my honor to take you out again’

You silently cheer, kicking your feet under your duvet. ‘i’ll be holding u to that’

no need already planning our next one

whatre u thinking?

that takes the fun out of it if i tell you dw i won’t make you wait long

He's flirting. You're flirting. Even through text, he has you running in circles looking for a response. What do you say? What do you say?!!

good c; don't wanna wait to see u again

‘me neither’ He starts typing, then stops. Is it over already?

The typing bubble pops up again, and in seconds, his blue message fills your eyes: ‘u mind sending a pic?’

Suspicion doesn't address you—instead a feeling of confusion. Where is this conversation going…?

im in my pajamas lol so not sexy

doesn't have to be, you make something sexy plus the kind of pjs a girl wears tells you all abt her

does it?

mhm

Damn it. You crawl out of bed, turn your lamp on, and step in front of your full-length mirror. A loose-fitting shirt and small house shorts. Nothing extravagant or appealing — just extremely comfortable.

Five attempts at a flattering mirror selfie later, you finally land a picture that satisfies you enough. Immediately to Jing Yuan, it goes, paired with the message ‘what do mine say about me?’

You sit back on your bed, criss–cross applesauce as you wait for his response. Three minutes later he likes your message, ‘says you're cute’

that’s it?

He responds quickly. ‘not sure if you wanna take it there haha’

You're not sure either. ‘try me’

It takes him a minute to start typing again — presumably needing to take the time to make a conscious decision before he embarrasses himself…again.

‘Attachment: 1 Image’ You immediately click on the image, zooming in only to be met with his bulge. Black boxers stretched around a fat tent in his pants with his big hand resting on top of his lap.

His next message comes in seconds later, ‘says you drive me crazy and need me there to make you feel good’

And the next one…‘it's hard for me to control myself lol’

i just get so turned on by you

Oh. He's taking it there.

‘me too’ You have to send the text with your head facing the other direction, nearly jumping out of your skin with the confirmation swoosh sound.

‘i don't usually get that wet btw…’ You inform. It's a bit of a half-truth; you haven't slept with that many people to gauge how wet you can truly get but you're almost positive you've never soiled your panties like you have today.

He hearts your message and immediately starts typing.

oh rly? what abt now? still wet?’

If the way your thighs are pressing together is anything to go by, the answer is a very enthusiastic yes.

yeah want u so bad

You don't sext — you've never done it before and you are awful with your words. You're nervous despite the wave of boldness that's overcoming you. This is escalating fast, bordering territory you've never crossed.

You should've just gone to bed and texted him the following morning. You should have kept it innocent and not pushed him further. You've opened a can of worms and now it's time to reap the consequences. Fuck.

let me see

Double fuck. Maybe triple. Possibly quadruple.

How the hell are you supposed to show him???

You immediately hop up and move your mirror, repositioning it to stand parallel to your bed. Should you turn the light off? Maybe you should.

You jump onto the bed in the darkness, slithering off your shorts slowly, giving yourself time to stop and preserve your dignity. God, you can't believe you're doing this, you think, setting yourself in the most awkward position to show the wet spot painted on your fresh pink panties.

Flash on and legs in the air, the camera shutters three times. If you weren't embarrassed before, you definitely are now.

You send two of the three photos, tossing your phone into your pillows.

The ding is still audible, followed by two more that make your heart jump.

shit you're so hot baby Attachment: 1 Video

A shaky thumb presses play on the video, immediately adjusting the volume when wispy curses spill from the device. The video shows his unclothed abdomen and his hand in his boxers, rubbing his dick slowly.

You watch with peeled eyes how his stomach rises and falls, abs gnarling as he bucks into his own hand. Twelve-second video. It's a twelve-second video and it seemed to last for an hour.

He sends more texts:

wish it was you are you touching yourself?

No.

yeah doesn't feel as good as when u did it, tho

You ignore the way your cunt clenches around the air and your panties grow increasingly uncomfortable with the slick pooling and seeping.

pretend it is me Attachment: 1 Voice Message

Oh fuck. You lay down, bringing the phone to your ear and dancing your fingers across your stomach in hopes of soothing your nerves. This is a lot. This is probably worse than letting him feel you up and almost finger you in his car.

“‘M gonna help you feel good, okay?” He starts the voice message. You nod as if he can see you, and close your eyes to take in the full experience.

“Start rubbing your clit—go slowly, tight circles, okay,” he pauses, presumably to let you complete the action. The quiet is filled with an airy gasp from you, sensitivity extremely prevalent between your legs. You part your folds and hear how sticky it is, and it's even worse when you let your finger slip in between your labia and press your clit. You moan so loudly you have to bite your lip.

With your thighs instinctively closing on your wrist you roll to your side, burying your face in the pillow as you start to do as he says: slow, tight circles around your sensitive bud. You can hear him spit—presumably in his hand—and faint slick sounds in the background. He starts speaking, overpowering the background noise, “Feels good, huh?”

“Keep doing that, okay? Keep going until you're about to cum—” He hisses, sucking in a sharp breath, “—fuuuck, baby. I want to fuck you so bad; bet you sound so pretty when you moan…”

He just turns you on more, leaving you to whimper and further push your face into your pillow, attempting to quiet yourself.

It's been a while since you've had any sexual time — oftentimes too tired or uninterested in tending to your needs even though your body screams at you for a release. You're overly sensitive, clit throbbing angrily and hole spasming thirstily. You need to feel good, to reach nirvana — you needed to let Yuan fuck you and satiate the thirst.

He sounds so good talking to you, moaning for you, working you up to your climax, “Put a finger in, baby. I wanna hear you, too,”

You're just horny at this point. You almost waste no time in recording a voice memo, pushing your middle finger into your cunt with a breathy whine, “Oh, God,”

You start at a slow rhythm, really edging yourself. You huff and whine and whimper all into the speaker, letting him hear every voice crack and deep breath. It feels so good, but it's not enough.

“I wanna be filled,” you manage to say. “‘S not enough…need you, Yuanie.”

Send.

You stop your ministrations as you wait for him to respond, letting yourself come down from the impending climax.

Ding!

fuck

Is all he sends, and then your phone starts ringing. Your reflection in the FaceTime camera has you adjusting your position and putting the phone in a flattering angle, answering the phone with knitted eyebrows and your bottom lip tucked between your teeth. What a performer you are.

When the call connects you're met with his dick. His hand traverses the length eagerly, an angry tip leaking milky white down the shaft and glistening as he jerks himself off. You see him behind his big cock: hair disheveled and face red.

“Let me see your pussy,” his voice is gritty, deeper than usual. His tone is almost demanding—you clearly don't have the luxury of being shy at the moment.

You lower the camera slowly, pushing your panties to the side and letting the radiance of your phone screen show the glistening mess to him. “Oh fuck,” he comments, throwing his head back.

“So pretty, so perfect. I bet you're tight as fuck,” You decide to show him: slipping your index finger in first with a sweet moan, then following up with your middle finger after a few pumps.

You're definitely fuller, but it's not enough.

Your cunt squeezes around your fingers tightly, spilling out a waterfall of arousal. Your ministrations are easy with how wet you are: fingers slipping in and out with little to no resistance, just narrowly missing your sweet spot.

It gets harder to hold back your moans—sounds now coming out as broken cries as you bite intensely on your lip. “I wanna cum,” you sniffle.

“Yeah? Cum for me—show me how that pussy creams,” So obscene but so, so incredibly hot.

Your hips buck into your hands and your hold on your phone gets weak. You have to change position: set the device up between your pillows, and put yourself on display

Normally, you would never do something this risky. Maybe it's because of Jing Yuan—or a different potential point of interest just mere feet down the hall—but you feel inclined to jump out of your shell now.

So many years in Kafka’s shadow and even more in your mother's palm. You're grown up now, independent and you want to be taken seriously. It's the least you deserve and the most you want. He's going to take you seriously; he's going to see how badly you want him and the lengths you’ll go to to show up for him.

You've made a big leap in your behavior and you're prepared to deal with the consequences. No more little mouse, you're not a baby anymore.

It's time to take the world in your palm and bask in the mature gleam. You let the spotlight burn your skin as you work yourself to an orgasm, moaning so carelessly you're probably the center of conversation among Kafka and her friends. And you’d be right; partially, anyway.

Kafka having dozed off with Silver ages ago left Blade up alone, amusing himself with an average social media feed and remnants of a joint. He tried to ignore your soft moans coming from down the hall, but hey, he has keen ears.

He knows it's probably that douchebag you went out with making you sound like that and he can't even get mad about it. He's almost thankful — it's not every day you get to hear the melodies of an angel.

Neediness and curiosity reach all-time highs and urge him to do something he's 100 percent going to regret.

Blade takes light-footed steps toward your bedroom, the moans, and whimpers of you getting louder as he approaches the source. You sound so pretty; he can only imagine the way your face is knitted up and how wet you must be.

He hates himself for doing this, but he eavesdrops: letting an ear rest on the wood of your bedroom door and taking in the sounds you spew out.

He wishes he was on the other side of this door making you sound like that. He'd probably make you wake the entire apartment building up—

“I’m about to cum—! Ngh, oh my—” A sharp whine cuts you off. He wonders: do you squirt? Can you? Can he make you? There's no way possible that dickhead can do it.

“Me too—oh, shit, baby.” Comes out muffled to Blade, and his eyes roll immediately. Cornball shit, he thinks.

He hadn't pictured you as the phone-sex kind of girl, but with the way that jackass is egging you on, it's no wonder. You're so much better than this, than that guy and all he wants to do is let you know that. Blade is probably no better, but he can try. He can change for you and do right by you—in every aspect.

Your whimpers grow pitchier and you're puffing out deep breaths. You sound…overstimulated. He can imagine your toes curling and thighs trembling as you fuck yourself, squeezing your eyes shut with swollen lips. Your pussy is probably leaking a river, covering your ass, and staining your (probably) dainty white sheets. What he would give to make you feel good, let alone look at you.

“Yuan—!! I'mcummingImcummingImcumming!!!” You squeal, muffling yourself with a hard slap over your mouth.

Blade doesn't even realize he's begun to palm his cock and roll his hips into his hand. “Oh…” he quietly moans, letting his head fall onto your door.

Shit. He has to leave now, hearing you yelp at the sound and shuffle around. No use trying to hide, so he makes an escape: walking fast out of the front door without a second thought. Great—now he has to drive home with a rock-hard dick.

And you gather yourself. Hanging up the phone with Jing Yuan and walking to your door awkwardly due to the mess between your legs.

Cleaning yourself up in the bathroom and avoiding your reflection in the mirror, you think back to that sound. It was a knock, right?

Kafka and Silver lay on opposite ends of the same couch, curled under your throw blanket which is much too small for them. Blade is nowhere to be found…huh. Weird.

“Hey, Kaf,” you shake your roommate awake over the back of the couch. She moans and rolls over, slowly peeling her sleepy eyes open, “hmm?”

“Were you at my door just now?” The red-head shakes her head no, pulling the blanket over her shoulders and away from Silver.

If it wasn't her…“Where’s Bladie?” She questions, noticing his absence.

You shrug. “He probably left earlier.”

Even half-asleep, Kafka has double the brain you do. You can't see what's right in front of you.

She smiles, shuffling again and closing her eyes. “Alright, then. Good night.”

“Night,”

ೀ

With a week left until spring break, you cherish the time you've spent this last month or so living.

It feels like the first time, in all of your nineteen years of living, that you are living. Your smiles are brighter, your days are happier, and you're living every second to its fullest extent in absolute bliss.

Almost every week you're on a date with Jing Yuan. He's practically your boyfriend, but there's no official label so you keep that thought process to yourself.

Lowkey dates with him that slightly escalate have become your norm. You're still holding off on full-blown sex, and you wish you weren't. It causes some tension every time you restrict him from fucking you - but he tells you he's waiting, he's more than happy to wait. That's more than most men are willing to do and you're happy that you're fortunate to have landed yourself someone like you. Spending the tail end of your dates getting your neck marked up and fingered while you jerk him off is as much scandal as you can handle. Nerves are what's stopping you from going all the way. Definitely not Kafka’s hot friend who you can't stop thinking about.

There's synergy in your apartment now. You're not walking into a room with a tight chest and bated breath, just waiting to see what's waiting for you anymore. It's normal now—all of it. From Silver ransacking your kitchen to an obnoxiously loud-smelling blunt, you're used to it. It's not nearly as bad as you feared when Kafka initially moved in.

You sit in the dining hall with Fu Xuan, listening to her angry rambling about her statistics class. She never backs down, always eager to let a piece of her mind fly whether you like it or not.

“Stupidest fucking class ever. And, like, I shouldn't even be in there in the first place because I am wayyy too smart—”

“Hey guys,” thank God. Yukong shows up and sits next to Xuan, saving you from a monologue about how smart and wonderful she is. You love her, but man does she know how to talk.

“Nice of you to join us,” Xuan says snappily. Yukong pays her attitude no mind, sipping her coffee and turning to you with a knowing look.

She shifts the conversation, “Anyway…I came to let you guys know that there's going to be a party on Friday at the sorority. Tingyun said it’s to celebrate the beginning of spring break.”

You can't even remember the last time you went to a party. The smile growing on your face is too strong to fight. “What time?”

“Umm…I’ll have to check. Probably late though, so…”

This can be your first outing with Jing Yuan. Just the two of you with all eyes on you. Right before spring break as well…it could be your first time together—the thoughts alone make your head spin and a flurry of images swarm.

“Hm. Well, I won't be there.” Xuan states, crossing her arms and looking off elsewhere.

Amused, Yukong questions her why. “‘Cause. I'm gonna be busy with burning this stupid campus down!”

┄┄

hii <3 didn’t see u today so i hope ur feeling alright! also did u hear about the party this friday? r u thinking about going? miss u

You send your trilogy of texts to Jing Yuan, drowning out the conversation Kafka and Silver are having in your living room. “Can you back me up here?!”

Silver looks at you for backup, to which you're dumbfounded. What were they talking about again? “Sorry, what were you saying?” You ask, setting down your phone.

“Ugh!” The gamer groans, falling back onto the couch. “Please tell your sister that a Nintendo DS and a Nintendo Switch are not the same thing!”

“They do the same thing, though!” Kafka defends. “Barely! Kaf, I’m on that thing like, twenty-four-seven and you mean to tell me you think I’m playing Cooking Mama?”

“I don't know what you play. You never let anyone try and join you.”

“Because you all suck! Every single last one of you is dead weight and it makes me look bad.” Kafka scoffs, turning around and looking at you with an exasperated look. You lock eyes and share a similar smile — as much as you claim you and Kafka are total opposites, you get each other in ways not understood.

She turns back around and shuts Silver’s yapping down and at the same time, Blade emerges from the hallway. He looks good. Really good.

His long, dark hair is disheveled and tossed into a low bun, making you gain a newfound appreciation for man buns. His black “wife-beater” tank snugs onto his frame tightly—every ridge and curve of his solid abdomen pressing through the fabric and leaving little to the imagination. Staple gray sweats make you immediately avert your gaze, awkwardly making eye contact with you.

He caught you staring, and you caught him.

As if it were divine intervention, your phone buzzed on the counter behind you and you went straight for it, hiding the flustered look on your face behind your phone. You don't do a good job, though. Kafka notices.

hey baby accidentally slept in this morning but I’m alright heard abt the party but idk if I’m gonna go. not rly feeling it

A frown stretches across your lips as you disappointedly text back.

ohh okay feel better <3

Read.

It's fine—you're fine! You’ll just go with your friends and have a great time and you can see him after break.

You want that to be comforting but your gut tastes the bitter truth. It's not time to have that conversation with yourself so you table it, leaving your phone on the table and joining Blade on the second couch. Kafka and Silver monopolized the other one and you had to fight the urge to wiggle your way between them.

“So, what are we watching?” You make conversation, hiding the shake in your voice by focusing on the TV. Some random show plays, something so stupid you’d never waste your time on this.

“Dunno. Blade picked it.” Silver shrugs, slamming buttons on her Switch.

He turns to you. “Uh, it's the adaptation of the book ‘Verdict’. About Imbibitor Lunae.” He informs shyly. His voice is so gritty and deep—every time you hear it you swear you feel the depth reverberating in your bones.

Blade makes you so nervous. With his intense stare and even more intense aura, he's overwhelming and nerve-wracking. While you've grown to be comfortable with Silver and Kafka, Blade is the only one you walk on eggshells around.

And he feels the same way. He wants to breach the wall and get to know you. He wants to sit on this couch with you with his arms wrapped around your frame and you in his lap and relax. He's so tense around you, so stiff out of pure fear that if he makes the wrong move or says the wrong thing, he’ll scare you off. Blade likes you. And when it comes to girls like you and guys like him, it doesn't take much for things to go wrong.

You like that he reads though. “Ooh, interesting. I’ve never read that book,”

“It's pretty old and short. Most people of our generation haven't heard of it, I bet.”

“Yeah, 'cause you act fifty years old!” Silver sneers, earning a slap on the leg from Kafka. He pays her no mind, instead watching how you laugh at her teasing.

Your eyes get so bright when you smile: full of joy, full of light. It's so cute.

“What episode is this?” You ask him. Clearing his throat, he checks with the remote, “Episode four.”

“Mind catching me up?” Are you doing this on purpose? You’ve got to know what you're doing to him.

Heat drives up his neck and he has to create distance, sitting all the way back on the couch and replying to you with a nod.

You gulp, watching the way his legs naturally spread and how his arms flex. Insanely attractive, almost criminally so.

“So, it’s basically about that guy,” he points at the screen, a graceful-looking man with horns displayed, “called the Sinner—”

“That guy’s a sinner? He looks like an angel,” You comment. You take another look at the screen and Blade fights a smile.

If only you knew.

He continues to break down the lore of Verdict to you, going very in-depth and getting seemingly passionate as he goes on. Kafka scrolls on her phone and takes it in with pride—Blade should thank her. Never in all of her years of friendship with him does she think she's ever heard him talk this much, let alone to someone he’s interested in. It's pure proof of what you do: the best sides of people come out because of you.

You listen to him intently, chiming in with reactions and questions every now and then and completely abandoning the show you're supposed to be learning about. You just like to hear him talk. His rough voice softens up as he continues explaining the story to you and in turn, your body language softens. You can relax and lie on the couch, keeping your eyes on his face as you lean your head down on your wrists.

Details you hadn't noticed before on his face stand out to you — like how clear and supple his milky skin is and how his chapped lips are tinted ever-so-slightly red. You notice how his thick eyebrows wiggle and knit together when he’s thinking, and his awkward, canine-heavy smile when you make a comment. Blade is dorky and surprisingly, a history enthusiast.

He goes from detailing the fabled betrayal of Imbibitor Lunae to the Ambrosial Arbor to everything before, after, and during. From the unusual silence exuding from Kafka and Silver, he realizes just how much he's been talking. Even you have started to drift off, your eyes are heavy as you listen to old Xianzhou tales.

Upon realizing that he’s effectively talked everybody to sleep, he takes the blanket draped on the armchair and covers you, making sure to be as cautious as possible. He doesn't know what he’d do if you woke up and caught him.

As weird as it sounds, he likes seeing you sleep. You look so peaceful like your dreams are full of cotton candy and rainbows. Knowing you, they probably are.

“You’re staring, Bladie.” He turns around to see Kafka, her smirk overtaking her groggy expression. He doesn't even try to refute the claim or defend himself. If there's anyone other than himself that knows him well, it's Kafka. She probably knows him more than he does himself at this point.

“You’re cute, making moves on her and stuff,” He naturally follows her as she makes her way to the kitchen. The blush on his cheeks dusts lightly, and his eyes find comfort in staring at the floor. “I’m proud of you.”

“Thank you.” She reaches into the fridge, pulling out the last can of Mung Bean Soda.

She pops the can open and takes a short swig, “so what's your plan?”

Blade shrugs. Kafka sighs, placing the can on the counter. “It’s okay. I’ll take care of it.”

ೀ

If Jing Yuan wasn’t going to come to the party tonight, you were going to make him regret it.

You dressed in the shortest, tightest dress you owned: an off-the-shoulder white mini-dress with the prettiest shine to it. You bought it impulsively after your mid-term breakdown freshman year, thinking retail therapy would make you feel better. (It didn't–another breakdown ensued when you realized you just wasted money on shit you didn't need.)

You did your makeup the best you ever have. Perfect highlight, sharp and even eyeliner wings, balanced lip combo—cosmetology school should have been your first choice with this type of beat.

Yukong told you to come at 9; the time on your phone reads 8:58. A little late, but fashionably so.

The jacket Yuan had given you still resides in your room due to your forgetfulness. If you're going to this party, why not make a statement?

You slip on the bomber jacket, the bulkiness of the fit aiding the aesthetics of your outfit. It gave off comfy but cute—“in my boyfriend’s closet” vibes. Surely, Tingyun or whoever the hell else competing with you will take the hint with this. Nobody will have to guess whose jacket it is when there's a white lion embroidered on the right arm. If this isn't a soft launch, you don't know what is.

Grabbing your essentials you walk out to the usual scene in your living room: Kafka, Blade, and Silver seated on different couches engaged in a conversation. Their heads turn to you, and you immediately let your gaze fall to Blade. He almost looks away instantly — too much. You're too much and he knows that it's for that guy. The one who doesn't deserve you but gets to see you cum and receive your attention…unfair.

“Wowww look at you! Little mouse is stealing someone’s man tonight!” Silver whoops, snapping her fingers. You roll your eyes at her, brushing stray strands of hair back.

You walk to the door, “Don’t wait up!!!”

Oh, but they will. Some more than others.

┄┄

Yukong’s sorority house is huge but it feels so small with this many people present. The invitation was extended to the entire campus, presumably, and sure enough, they showed up and showed out.

Pulling up was a nightmare — cars and people backed up for what seemed like miles. Your Uber driver huffed and puffed the entire time trying to find somewhere to let you out, and you could only extend apologetic woes and smiles. Walking up to the house was better, but you suddenly woke up from your dream world and realized that people could see you. They could perceive you and form preconceived notions about you just from how you carried yourself. You became conscious of what the hell you had on—immediately regretting the short dress when you had to squeeze between some randoms smoking on the stairs, your bare thighs rubbing against their bodies. Ugh.

The music was loud, seemingly traveling through the floorboards and it felt incredibly unstable to walk in your heels. You searched for Yukong, spotting your best friend off to the side with Hanya.

“Woaahh, look at you!” She exclaims. You give her a spin and laugh. Through your joy, you miss the way her face crinkles up when she eyes the jacket you sport. “Do you want a drink?”

You nod, “Only like, one or two. I'm trying to stay sober; I want to remember tonight.” You send her a look that means only one thing: you have something planned for tonight. What that thing is…well, Yukong isn't sure she wants to know.

She asks Hanya to fetch you a drink, taking up a conversation with you in her place. “How’s the sister situation?”

You hadn't updated Yukong on the status of things in a while. Should you tell her about Blade?

Wait. Tell her what?

As if there's anything to tell…

“It’s actually good. Surprisingly. I thought I’d be begging my mom to take her by now,” you joke. Hanya returns with a red solo cup, handing it to you. “It’s something tame.”

You're not a fan of the taste of alcohol. You can't understand how people willingly get shitfaced—this shit is nasty. You cringe and shudder at the taste. Whatever juice base is added does not aid the taste one bit.

“Her friends are around often. Like…every day. I wonder if they have jobs but I haven't asked,” Yukong takes a sip of her drink as well.

“Did they help this transformation occur?”

And suddenly, the reality of how you look hits you again. “Ha ha, very funny. I wanted to try something new, something sexy.”

“It worked!!” A random girl replies as she and her friends walk toward the kitchen. The face you give Yukong says I told you so, and she rolls her eyes.

“Let’s dance!” You exclaim, grabbing onto your friend with the sudden shift in the music.

Reluctantly, she follows you to the sea of gyrating bodies. Everybody dancing and talking forms a cocoon of heat—you’re encapsulated the moment you breach the area.

Sip, dance, laugh. Sip, dance, laugh. Sip, dance, laugh. You keep this up for a good twenty minutes, breaking on the couch every now and then. It may be only you and Yukong — and the occasional appearance of Hanya — but you're having fun. Fun like you said you would with or without Yuan—

He’s here???

You spot Jing Yuan out of the corner of your eye. He daps partygoers up at the door, making his way through the jumbles of people clearly in search. Of you?

You almost call his name and wave but he walks straight toward Tingyun. His hands slide around her waist instinctively and her arms wrap around his neck tightly. She giggles as he lifts her up, and she gives him her cup when she's put back down. They don't break eye contact the entire time he downs the remainder of her cup, and as soon as he's finished, the cup is replaced with her hand and she's guiding him up the stairs.

Did he think you wouldn't be here? Or did he not give enough of a fuck regardless?

Whatever the case—it hurts. You take the jacket off and toss it to the ground, not realizing the stray tear that streaks down your face.

Tingyun is going to give him something that you couldn't. He’s going to give her something you can't have. You feel slighted like the rug has been torn from beneath your feet and you’re doomed to a fate forever on your ass. You look stupid. So so so stupid, but you have enough dignity to wait until you leave to bawl your eyes out.

Ignoring Yukong calling your name, you walk outside and begin calling yourself an Uber. The early spring chills make you even madder. Fuck this stupid dress, this stupid party, that stupid Jing Yuan—“Hey!!! You didn't hear me calling you?”

Yukong comes following after you, her face concerned as she comes into view. Seeing your tears, her eyebrows furrow, “What happened? What’s wrong?”

A sad laugh escapes your throat and you look up at the sky, attempting to hold back the sudden rush of tears. “Yuan is sleeping with Tingyun,”

Her face is full of indescribable expressions. She has many things she wants to say, but she chooses the safe option. “Huh?! How do you know?”

“His lying ass just showed up and threw himself all over her. Then they went upstairs and you and I both know they aren't up there talking.”

You poor, poor girl. “I shouldn't be sad…what was I thinking? I should've known that he was an asshole.” You should have, but Yukong won't blame you.

The last romantic attention you had was from Dan Heng: your kinda-sorta-ex-boyfriend who took your virginity senior year and broke up with you a month later because you were going to different schools. You crave a change in the way people perceive you. Jing Yuan was the closest thing to a fever dream you had in university, and he turned it into a nightmare. What was supposed to be your rebranding - an age of confidence and maturity was overtaken by his pushiness and exclusivity.

“It doesn't matter, I don't care. I just wanna go home,” You hope Kafka and her friends are on their best behavior tonight. You're not in the mood for any shit.

“Are you sure?” Yukong doesn't know how to comfort you. Anything she has to say will make it worse, she's sure of it.

You nod, wiping the string of tears off of your cheeks. The buzzing of your phone lets you know that your Uber is approaching shortly, so you give Yukong a smile that’s meant to comfort her - but it only worries her. She won't push you because the only way this’ll end is messy if so.

She offers you a comforting smile of her own, pulling you into a soft hug. “Call me later, okay?”

She reluctantly pulls away and heads back into the party, head swiveling over her shoulder to make sure you don't jump in front of a car. You're not going to — if anyone needs to, it's that asshole, Jing Yuan.

Your Uber pulls up and saves the day, the warmth in the car settling goosebumps on your skin from the juxtaposition. “Long night?” The driver asks, peering at you through the mirror.

Is it that obvious?

With a sad smile, you nod, “It's only gonna get longer.” You laugh. Imagining the annoying amount of questions and pep talks Kafka is going to give you when you step through the door irritates you. You lay your head against your seat, and then your phone buzzes.

Flipping the device over, you see three notifications from ‘Yuan <3’. Ugh.

Looking at it is going to make you do or say something you’ll completely regret. You regain composure through a deep breath; placing your phone face down on your lap and watching the world blur through the window.

You're trying not to feel humiliated. There's a burn in your chest because every time you close your eyes, there's a scene of you and him together. You're stupid to think he actually liked you. His longing gazes and lingering touches and sweet words were tactics to get into your pants — and it almost worked. There's a reason your mother treats you like a baby: you are one and can't handle the real world. You hate that you had to come to this conclusion like this, but you're not ready.

Thanking the driver, you pull yourself out of the car, trudging begrudgingly into the building and in the elevator. And you can't stop fucking crying.

Stray tears keep escaping and no matter how many times you wipe them away or vigorously blink, it doesn't stop the flow. Why are your feelings hurt this badly? Why did you like him so much?

These same questions cycle as you open your front door, being hit with the same atmosphere you just escaped.

You’ve got to be kidding me, you think. Of all nights, tonight Kafka decides to throw a damn party???

Not wanting to spend another second in this atmosphere, you weave your way through the partygoers — an exceptional amount of people, given the space of your apartment, if you may add.

Trying to escape to your room gets you caught by your roommate, and your name gets called across the party as a result. She maneuvers her way to you, “What’re you doing back here so early, little mouse? I thought we shouldn't wait up?”

The sadness you wear is so prominent. Your face is dropped and your lips quiver when she asks her questions. You stare at the floor to not let the tears fall. “Hey…what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I'm just gonna go to sleep, so can you keep the noise down?” You try to brush her off. Kafka doesn't let you slip away, grabbing your arm and keeping you in place.

The rim of her cup nudges at your chin in place of her hand, forcing you to look up at her. A black headband pushes her plum-colored locks out of her face, straight strands flowing down her back. When she tilts her head pitifully at you, her hair swings to the side, falling over her shoulder and at this moment she looks so approachable. “What’s wrong?” She poses the question again, her tone softer than before.

You almost break down in front of her and she immediately extends her arm around your shoulders, pulling the side of you into her chest. She hands you her cup and you immediately down the liquid with no second thought. Her hand rubs your arm comfortingly and she guides you toward the kitchen, “C’mon, let's talk in here.”

The kitchen is surprisingly unoccupied save for a few hungry stragglers, leaving the two of you to sit on the stools. She refreshes your cup, getting a new one of her own and finishing off another bottle of tequila.

Kafka can tell by looking at you that this upset is caused by heartbreak. No words have to be spoken for her to understand, and now it's her job to take care of you. The way you deserve.

“What’d he do?”

The look on her face is all-knowing. You can't help but break a small smile at her intuitiveness. “I’m sure you can imagine…”

Of course she can. It was clear as day that he wanted only one thing. Everybody but you could see that a mile away.

“How’d you find out?”

“The asshole definitely wasn't trying to hide it.” You state, taking a big sip of your drink and cringing at the bitterness. Yuck. “He told me he wasn't going to come to the party, but I'm there, dancing, and here he comes. With a big wide-ass smile he walks straight to Tingyun and they waste no time in going upstairs.”

You don't normally swear, but you're so irritated that the words just soar from your lips. It’s almost amusing to watch your angry rambling. “Not even accounting for the fact that I was there and somebody could have told me. It was right in my face—right there and it was like I was invisible!!!”

Her eyes travel up and down your body. You're definitely not invisible. Jing Yuan just doesn't know what to do with you.

“He didn't deserve you; I hope you know that.” She comments, sipping her drink slowly. You finish off yours with bigger gulps, immediately hopping off of the stool and searching for a new bottle. Pouring another full cup, you nod, “I do now.”

“And then—he had the audacity to text me!” You sit down, taking off your heels. You're ready to get comfortable and let everything rip. Kafka’s eyes widen, “Oh, really?”

You hum to confirm, picking up your phone and checking the notifications. A few texts from Yukong and Xuan join his messages, but those don't matter. You hand the phone to Kafka, “I didn't even read them. I should block him, right?”

hey baby, i’m at the party wya

just talked to Yukong…can we talk? I wanna explain don’t be like this. at least let me explain?

Double yuck. You absolutely should block him…after this, though.

“He wants to explain himself to you. Classic,” She sneers. You laugh through your sipping, sitting the cup down. “He must take me for an idiot.”

There's a short silence that breaks with you changing the subject. “What’s the occasion?” You question.

She shrugs, placing her cup down. “Just felt like partying.”

Kafka tells a bit of a half-truth. While she did feel like having fun — her idea extends beyond getting sloppy drunk and into territory thus far unexplored. There's one objective she has tonight and it can't be completed unless her two moving pieces are pliable and cooperative. In terms of a checklist, she's halfway there.

Low-lidded eyes narrow at you, as if to tell you her intent wordlessly. You don't pick up what she's putting down, instead feeling heavily nervous under her gaze. “Anyway. Why don't we…”

She trails off, her finger tapping her chin exaggeratedly. “Wanna dance?”

You suck in a breath, holding up your hands. “I think I'm gonna call it a night, actually. It’s kind of late and all that crying made my head hurt…” You laugh. That’s partly true—you just want to escape whatever trap she’s set, if you're being honest. And frankly, after tonight, you have slight trauma from dancing.

“It’ll make you feel better.” She sings, wiggling a finger at you. “Come on; just one dance!”

Your face crinkles. You're not convinced. “Silver’s on the aux, we can ask her to play whatever you want.” She tries to bribe. “No sad-girl depressed shit, though.”

She keeps asking, offering deals and propositions that sound all the more appetizing as she continues. After a series of unabashed begging, you finally agree. “One song,” you sternly declare, hopping off the stool and grabbing ahold of your cup.

Her hands are in the air defensively, a cheshire smile stretching across her lips. “You lead the way,”

You've never partied with Kafka before. Your time spent as step-sisters consisted of you mostly lurking and watching, earning your nickname ‘little mouse’ because you were quiet, swift, and moved at night. You saw her sneak people into the house while your parents slept, throw parties while they were out, smoke in your backyard, and do other wild activities — but she never let you join. Your age was your main roadblock, being deemed too young and too cute to join her and her friends. Dancing with her now, smelling the strong mix of scents in the air and the bass of the music jumping in your bones, you understand why now.

Maybe it's the alcohol or the fact that your heart is broken, but the atmosphere is heavy. There's a lingering feeling that seeps through your pores. It has you dancing with her, letting her hands lie on your waist and your hips sway together.

Your bodies generate a fountain of heat that consumes you. You can't help but just dance: feeling the beat in your very core. Mixed with your surplus of liquid courage, your body sways and gyrates, lighting a flame you won't be able to put out in Kafka. Her smile is wide and her eyes flicker toward the couch, meeting an intense amber gaze.

Blade is entertained…more so intrigued with how you can live freely even after your heart weighs you down. The smile on your face doesn't falter — it only grows and gleams and he can't stop watching you dance.

Should he take Kafka’s place? He wants to take Kafka’s place.

It should be his hands on your waist, his lips on your ears, his words making you laugh—“Ah, I’m exhausted,”

You plop down beside him with an exasperated groan. He almost jumps out of his skin when you appear, and looking up at Kafka who towers over the pair of you, he can tell this is only the beginning. Her smile is warm but all-telling: whatever idea she has brewing in her head is coming to fruition tonight.

“I’ll be back. Take care of her for me, Bladie,” she shoots him a wink. He almost doesn't know what to do. Should he talk to you? Take you to bed?

“Blade?” Your voice is so small, so cute. You're quiet beneath the jumble of sounds crammed in your apartment but he can pick you out amongst the masses. He's never heard you address him before and the way his name leaves your mouth…he’s always going to replay it in his head forever. “…Y-yeah?”

He doesn't stutter but fuck, you make him nervous.

Breathing out airily, you turn your head to him. “…Do you and Kafka date?”

“No.” His answer is straight and immediate. Must be a sore subject…

“Oh…” “Why do you ask?” He knows why you ask. The same reason everybody else does. “Dunno. You guys just seem…close.”

“She’s not my type of girl.”

“Oh?” You perk up, now intrigued. “Then, what is your type of girl?”

You. He picks at his nails and almost avoids your eyes. How does he answer this question without freaking you out? Ah…fuck it.

“…You.” He’s dying on the inside but at least you're drunk—you’re not going to remember this so it won't be that bad. “Really?”

Your tone pitches up as you adjust your position. You lean your head against your hand now, opting to look him in his eyes. His attention feels nice and hearing that somebody insanely attractive wants you. You make him nervous, making him twiddle his fingers, and his cheeks dust rosy. That's a type of flattery that you can't make up.

“Yeah,” he says matter-of-factly. As if it's so obvious that he likes girls like you.

“What about me do you like?”

“Oh, uh, I don't know…” he trails off. He suddenly remembers the solo cup he abandoned earlier in the night and picks it up off the floor. He’s going to need a serious buzz to bear his dirty laundry to the wind. “…everything?” He poses it like a question — as though your reaction would gauge the validity.

Your face was brighter and painted in a flustered manner. “Thank you,” is all you can say without word-vomiting.

“What are you two talking about?” Kafka breaks up your tension, handing you another full cup and weaving her way onto the couch. She takes a seat right behind you, effectively spooning you. She takes a look at Blade over your shoulder, noticing the blush that paints his cheeks and the refusal to look in your direction.

Downing big swigs of your mystery drink, you shake your head. “Oh, nothing…” You sing, giving Blade an obvious reassuring wink that Kafka laughs at. “Guess I should leave you two to it, huh?”

“To what?” You ask coyly. You giggle bubbly, hiding your grin behind your cup. Kafka gives you a look, “I’m interrupting, aren't I? It’s okay to push me away.”

“We didn't do anything yet!!”

“Yet?” Kafka and Blade exchange glances - a series of looks that only mean one thing.

You slap a hand over your mouth, laughing into your palm drunkenly. Your mind is hazy and covered in static. That's not what you meant to say— “Well, I mean…”

She quirks an eyebrow at you, cocking her head to the side. “What do you mean? You playing to run off with Bladie later?”

While that would be great and you aren't completely unopposed…“We were just talking.”

Kafka shrugs, dropping the topic. You’re determined to preserve the privacy of your conversation until the very end. Well, anyway, there are other methods of getting the show on the road.

Her brief time away from the pair of you was spent curating a queue of songs on Silver’s phone — songs she knows you like, songs she knows Blade likes, and songs she knows your inebriated bodies will like. Full of bass, full of sensuality, full of dirty innuendos that get your core filled with butterflies and your head filled with fantasies. She took it upon herself to mix up a concoction strong enough to wipe out a village of Pilgrims and your inhibitions.

From the moment your mother mentioned staying with you, Kafka thought of you. You’re a staple goody-two-shoes, held down to Earth with a strict upbringing and a perfectionist mindset. You were always eager for more, wide eyes watching as she and her friends explored all types of realms unbeknownst to you.

It’s her way of setting you free and paying you back. All those times you covered for her, all those times you took care of her after a long night out, and even now, taking her in when you have no reason to — it’s her way of saying thank you. Giving you the release you’ve been clawing for since she met you; giving you the release you deserve.

Blade is perfect for you. He's the type of guy to send your mother into cardiac arrest but the type of guy to love you right. He's not a man of many words but of many actions — a crafter, a creator, a provider, a carer. What you need is stability, something in scarce supply ever since your parents split up; but you also need someone to fix. That can't be Kafka, it won't be her.

She's going to hand you the tools to set you free, but it's up to you to forge your way out.

This box of safety you guard yourself in is coming down tonight. The burden of finding the perfect, golden guy, being the perfect, golden girl, and living a perfect, golden life is shriveling by the minute, each alcoholic sip you take singeing its weight.

The sultry beat of the next song punches through the atmosphere. The vibe of the party seems to slow down: the chatter lowers itself to background noise, bodies move longingly and languidly, and the lights seem dimmer. Your body feels heavier too, slumping forward on the couch to where your forehead collides with Blade’s knee.

His hands are quick to slip under your arms, helping you sit up straight. Kafka rubs a supportive hand in circles on your back, “You alright, little mouse?”

You look at the man in front of you, his silhouette slowly coming into focus. With his hair freed down his back and toned body dressed in his usual comfortable loungewear, he looks good. So fucking good with the worried look on his face.

“Hey, I got you,” he states.

In a second your strength is replenished and you muster the courage to lean in, stealing a kiss from him. It’s unexpected, sloppy, and tastes a whole hell of a lot like liquor…but, fuck, does it feel good.

He doesn't know what to do with his hands, choosing to remove them from beneath your arms and rehome them on your waist. The initial shock dissipates and his body naturally leads into your kiss, his eyes closing after taking in the image of an amused Kafka.

You whimper into his mouth, eager to climb onto his lap. Your hands roughly tangle in his hair, pulling his face unimaginably closer as if you were trying to consume him whole. The feeling of his slightly chapped lips against your glossed ones is like heaven - even better as he gets to re-slick them with his tongue.

It’s like the world around you doesn't exist anymore. Time could cease to exist and it wouldn't faze you because you have everything you need beneath you. The warmth of another person, the kisses of pure desire, the hands of desperation…it all rests in Blade and he delivers it unto you. It's all that matters right now, all you could ever wish for — forget Jing Yuan, your mother, whatever stressors have been weighing you down. It's insignificant, it doesn't matter, not when Blade sucks your tongue and his hands grab the fat of your ass.

It doesn't take much to escalate the situation with the amount of alcohol and stress in your body. It needs to all come out.

“Alright, lovebirds.” Kafka practically pulls you two apart, holding your hand and hoisting you to your feet. “Let’s get you to bed,”

You grumble like a petulant child, holding your other hand out for Blade to grab. He’s quick to slip your hand into his. “I don't wanna go to bed…”

Leading you through the myriad of people, Kafka laughs, “Don’t worry. We’re not going to sleep.”

You giggle at her words, the meaning not fully processing in your hazy head. You miss her innuendos the way you always have, focusing on Blade. His arm wraps around your waist to stabilize you with Kafka’s hand locked in yours. It’s intimate, it’s nice, and though you can't see the heat burn in his skin in this darkness, you can feel it with how close he is to you.

Kafka leads the three of you into your room, flickering your light on and closing the door behind you all. She locks it while you basically drag Blade to your bed.

You're more abrasive when you're drunk: grabbing Blade by the fabric of his shirt into another sloppy kiss. It’s amusing to watch, Kafka’ll give you that. But that's not the image she had in mind.

“Easy tiger,” she purrs, sitting behind you on the bed. You both catch your breaths, looking at each other with small smiles. There's a spark of desire in the room, latching onto any and everything and setting it ablaze. It’s hot and palpable and you need to set it out. “Let’s take our time, yeah?”

It doesn't register what she meant by that until her hands are fondling your chest and her chin rests on your shoulder. “Mmh…” she moans, feeling your nipples harden through your dress, “We’ve been waiting a real long time for this, haven't we, Bladie?”

He finds himself at a loss for words, swallowing thickly and keeping his eyes trained to you. “Yeah…”

“Why don't you come show her, then?” Kafka instructs, fluttering her eyes up to him. He doesn't need much encouragement to catch your bobbing head with his palm, leaning in and taking the lead in your kiss.

Under his behest, the kisses are softer, tamer, but filled with just as much—if not more—fire as before. He takes his time in carefully traversing your mouth with his tongue — completely contrasting from the kisses you gave him previously. You were taking a page from the book of Jing Yuan, using how he kissed you as a guideline for the basis. But that's not what you wanted. What you wanted from the very beginning was for him to take his time: to savor you down to every detail until your lips bruised and swelled, then move on to the rest of your body with passion.

Blade’s kisses were heavy with passion and need - as if he, too, was holding onto a package full of burdens.

As he moves down your jaw and neck, Kafka’s hands travel down to the hem of your dress, slipping under and gripping your bare sides. Her hands are cold and you flinch at the feeling, but it soon feels nice as her hands slide to cup your boobs under your bra. Your head falls back on her shoulder, allowing Blade more access to the expanse of your neck.

Your hips pathetically gyrate against the bed, receiving minimal friction that aids you in no way. It only makes you needier.

Blade pulls away to let Kafka pull your dress over your head, revealing the pretty, matching white set you have on underneath. You so obviously wore this with Jing Yuan in mind, and it irritates Blade that he was ever worthy enough to you to warrant such an ensemble. It was never right, never fair — but he has you now, and he doesn't plan on letting you go.

Kafka takes the initiative and unclips your bra, tossing the undergarment to the floor alongside your dress. You're pushed flat onto the mattress where she takes a moment to remove her crop top, leaning over you in her black lace bra.

She places a chaste kiss on your lips leaving your eyes to widen — watching with blown pupils as she lowers herself to your chest and darts her tongue toward your pebbled nipple. You drawl out a whine, your body curling up in response. She swirls the nub, dragging her teeth lightly on it and leaving you hissing and whimpering. All the while, Blade strips down to his underwear, tossing his long hair to the back and palming the tent in his pants.

You turn your head to your left and spot him, your face cringing in pleasure. You stretch your arms toward him and he complies, letting your hands find the sides of his head and pull him in for another kiss.

An agile hand slithers beneath the thin band of your panties, a slender finger slipping between your labia and running through your folds. You moan out into Blade’s mouth, hips jerking away and legs kicking into the air. “Your sensitive pussy’s all wet…” Kafka observes. She lays her head right below your boob, focusing her attention between your legs.

“‘S making a mess through your panties.” She laughs when you moan out again, her finger traveling down to your entrance and prodding.

“Kafka…” you moan, pulling away from Blade.

“Let’s see how long it takes to make you cum,” it’s so obvious that you're not going to last. Your cunt is soaked and only gets wetter by the minute, and her teasing ministrations have you moaning like a bitch in heat.

She adjusts her position, peeling down your panties and leaving them around your ankles lazily. The draft in your room whistles against your soaked folds - a chill runs up your spine as a result. She spits onto her hand as if it's needed, diving straight toward your clit. The sensitive bud is attacked mercilessly: heavy pressure weighing on it as Kafka draws figure-eights. There's a sticky clicking sound that arises and it makes her smile, taking a look at you and Blade over her shoulder.

You suck on his thumb, his left hand rubbing from your neck to your chest. Your whimpers are contained behind his digit, but your watery eyes say all. “You hear that?” She suddenly speeds up her actions, making your back arch and voice sing out around Blade’s finger.

And like a professional, she slows down, inching her finger back down to your hole. It slips in with ease and she sighs. “Dunno if she’s gonna be able to take you, Bladie,”

She pushes her middle finger in knuckle-deep, twisting her finger as she slithers her ring finger in beside it. Blade’s finger in your mouth does nothing to pacify you any longer - her fingers in your cunt bringing out the sweetest moans they’ve collectively ever heard. “She’s so tight…squeezing around my fingers.”

You writhe around in Blade’s hold and your arms brush over his hard-on every now and then. He winces and hisses, bucking into your touch. He needs to preoccupy himself before he cums in his pants—deciding to aid Kafka. His hand tentatively crawls toward your clit, rougher, thicker fingers pinching your bud. It has you huffing out a wail, balling your fist weakly on his thigh.

They keep up a steady pace in tandem, building up your orgasm with ease. Your body is reactive and receptive to their touch: falling apart when your core gets tight and even hotter.

“C’mon, little mouse…let it out for me,” Kafka encourages. She places sparse kisses against your thighs, the print of her lips faintly left in the color of her lipstick. “I can feel it. You wanna cum so bad,”

“Do it,” she murmurs between kisses, “let it out.”

It’s like your body is under her control. Your orgasm builds and crashes in a matter of seconds. Your hole spasms around her fingers but she never stops scissoring them inside of you, rubbing against your sweet spot and effectively overstimming you. You wail heartily, wrapping your arms around Blade’s arm and stopping him from continuing.

Kafka doesn't stop finger-fucking you until you come down from your high and endlessly whimper. She smears your release all over your pussy, bringing her coated fingers to her mouth.

Exaggeratedly, she sucks your juices off of her fingers, making sure to rock her hips against nothing and moan at the taste. “Mmfh,” and with a pop, she removes her digits from her mouth.

She hovers over you trying to catch your breath, capturing your face in her hand and squeezing your cheeks, forcing your lips to part. She lets her saliva drop from her mouth to yours, backing up with a smile. She stops you from swallowing: “Share,” she says.

You and Blade’s lips meet, smushing and mixing yours and Kafka’s spit. It gets messier, sloppier, and it's completely inefficient due to your awkward position but you comply nonetheless.

When you part, Kafka is making quick work of you and flips you over to your stomach. You yelp and giggle, looking over your shoulder and meeting her wide smile. Her index finger boops your nose and she turns to Blade, presumably signaling for him to get up. He stands up, hands grabbing your ankles and adjusting you perfectly.

Kafka slaps your tailbone softly, using her other hand to brush your hair out of your face. “Ass up,” she instructs, and you listen.

You wiggle your butt in the air with a laugh, laying your head on Kafka’s lap. Her pants are pretty comfortable and you find yourself becoming relaxed — while behind you Blade is pulling his boxers down and freeing his dick.

The last time you had actual sex was months ago…as in the middle to end of your freshman year. It was a forgotten one-night stand you met through a dating app - but he’s no match for Blade.

He presses the tip to your entrance, just teasing. Your heavy eyelids fly up, and you immediately brace yourself. You barely felt him, but he's big. You know it.

“Fuck…” he hisses. He wedges his cock between your folds, feeling your wetness smear against him. You feel his width, his length, his weight—he’s a lot less girthy than what you felt with your hands with Yuan, but he makes up for it in length.

If he keeps dragging his dick between your folds he’s going to cum. He has to physically stop himself, sucking in a deep breath because it's now or nothing.

Pressing the tip in you both gasp — and your sounds only drawl out until he completely bottoms out. He's so deep, and you're so wet. He's so big, and you're so tight. Dribbles of your previous orgasm and endless arousal seep out around him, and he nearly moans at the sight.

Getting a good grip on your ass, he spreads your cheeks, pushing you forward while pulling out. It’s a languid motion, edging you for the heart-stopping drop he imposes when you're filled fully again. Your moans come out with every collision and they're full of air. Your chest is tight and all of your air is flying out of your mouth. He's rendering you breathless, but it's nothing compared to how you're making him feel.

Blade begins to gradually increase his pace to satiate this intense hunger. He fucking needs you.

Now that he has a taste of you, his head is clear and his body is in nirvana. His strokes are precise and sharp. He pistons out of you with control, deep grunts skipping out of his mouth. It’s like your pussy is made for him: squeezing him just right in a tight hug and drooling endlessly.

Splat splat splat! The wet sound echoes from your collisions, battling against the barrage of moans that escape your mouth. “Oh, f-f—” you stutter over the curse, clawing at Kafka’s legs. She coos at you, rubbing your face. “You can take it, you got it. Good girl,”

“C-can’t! ‘M gonna cum!” You sob, burying your face into her leg.

Your body hasn't recovered from your previous orgasm, still reeling and the added pleasure Blade stacks on doesn't help. You feel like you're going to explode, wailing and drooling all over the place as your hips gain a mind of their own, fucking back against Blade and chasing your release.

“Think you can squirt for us?”

Oh, hell yeah. If there's one thing Blade wants to do for you, it's to ruin anybody else for you. He wants a monopoly over your body — he wants you to know him as your main source of Heaven on Earth and if there’s one way to do that…

In three swift movements, you're flipped back onto your back, legs on his shoulders. He slips back in with ease, wasting no time in pounding your cunt. He’s fiercer, more determined: drawn up with furrowed brows and his bottom lip snatched between his teeth, Blade becomes a different person.

There's more need, more fervor, an insatiable feeling that’s driven by your warm pussy around him and the idea of being the first person to make you squirt—the only person to make you squirt.

Kafka wraps her hand around your throat, squeezing the sides, and watches with pure amusement as your eyes grow foggier and your sounds grow choppier. They're just using your body, pushing you to the very limit and it's working so well.

A new fire has been lit under your ass and you feel alive — you're on top of the world and nothing but a grand finale can bring you down.

“G-got tighter…” Blade grunts out. Kafka turns to you, seeing how even though your eyes and mouth spill over, you still manage to curl your lips into a toothy grin. “Think she likes it,”

“You like this, huh? Being choked out while getting fucked silly?” God, yes. You love it—you’re on cloud nine.

In this position, Blade can fuck you deeper. He’s effectively digging you out, the slight left-leaning curve of his cock hitting your g-spot again and again. Quakes rack through your body again; it’s coming.

They both can tell and it's getting sloppy. Blade is holding back from blowing his load deep in you, and Kafka? Well, Kafka’s happy to play the supporting role - now letting go of your neck and wedging her head between you and Blade.

With her ass in the air, Kafka dives into the perfect arch to let her lips wrap around your clit, taking the neglected bud into her warm mouth with a long moan. The vibrations jolt through your body and you nearly scream out, thrashing above them.

It's too much, your body can't handle it. You start to crumble: your stomach gnarling and tears streaming down your face. “IcantIcantIcant—” Your hands frantically try to push Blade away but to no avail.

His grunts grow more animalistic as he puts all of his body weight into his thrusts, slowing down. He goes harder, making your body jostle with each grind of his hips. His face is knitted in pleasure, his porcelain skin damp with sweat and blemished in a crimson brushing. Kafka abusing your puffy clit with her tongue has you and Blade losing your minds, collectively falling apart.

This is it. This is pure, unadulterated bliss.

White hot heat surges through your body as you shake. Your thighs quiver on Blade’s shoulders, and Kafka can feel the stiffness of your clit. She slithers back to her seated position, her eyes never leaving the passion-filled affair occur.

Words you try to form only come out as broken squeaks and even Blade can't hold back any longer, letting out a string of blissed-out curse words as you clamp around him. The orgasm that begins to pour out of you is paired with a force that’s all but pushing him out.

You sob and he moans out — one last thrust breaking the floodgates. A clear stream shoots from between your legs, spurting at his abs. All the while, his orgasm comes over him, filling you with all his heavy balls had been storing.

You can't even move. Your chests heave for big breaths, unable to catch them.

It’s a high you can't come down from — filled with a surplus of electricity, liquor, and desire. You needed that more than anything, you needed him more than anything.

┄┄

A small yawn leaps from your mouth when your eyes begrudgingly open. What time even is it…?

You swing your arm over behind you in search of the device — but you're instead met with flesh. You're suddenly wide awake, sitting straight up only to realize you're completely naked. You turn to your side and there lays Blade, snoring softly into your pillow.

What the hell happened last night…

You jump out of bed, find something stray to throw on and feel an incredible ache between your legs. Clearly, you had quite the night. You can't concisely remember what happened last night and right now is definitely not the time to rehash your decisions.

You're not completely opposed to doing whatever you did with Blade because…well, he's Blade. He's always been attractive to you, and at least he’s willing to treat you like a person.

You're not going to wake him up so you leave him a note: scribbling your number on a random piece of paper and scurrying out of the room.

You need to find your phone and get some air—“Good morning. Took you a while to get up, huh.”

Kafka sits at the bar, stuffing her mouth with a spoonful of cereal. Does she know that you and Blade…

“Oh, yeah. Hey. Good morning…” you awkwardly puff out. Your voice is hoarse and you cringe at the sound, placing your hands on your chest with concern. “I’m gonna go um…get some food,”

“I made some eggs earlier if you want some—” “—I’m good. I could use the air, anyway.”

Kafka shrugs, turning back to her cereal. You rush out of your apartment in a blur, slamming the door and leaving Kafka in a brief silence.

Moments after you left, Blade emerges from the hallway. “Morning sleepy head. How’d you sleep?” She teases.

He nods, rubbing his eye. He takes a seat next to Kafka, holding up a piece of paper between two fingers. “Woke up to this,”

“The hell is that?” Kafka questions, spinning her spoon around in her bowl.

He flips the paper over, “Her number.”

A smile breaks across her face and she slaps his arm playfully. “Look at you!”

Blade fights off a coy smile, twirling the paper between his fingers. He waited so long, so patiently—and it was all worth it. He would do it again and again. All just to make you his.

406 notes · View notes

roosterforme · 6 months

Text

The Adventures of Dr. Tits | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: Jake gives you the world's most obnoxious nickname. Bradley has an identity crisis. And you're the one making sure everybody gets home safely on New Year's Eve.

Warnings: Fluff, swearing, suggestive language, drinking, beer pong

Length: 2800 words

Pairing: Beer Boy and Sugar! Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader (former fuckboy college student Bradley)

This is a one-shot to accompany my fics Old Habits Die Hard and Right Girl, Wrong Time! Banner by @mak-32 Check out my masterlist for the reading order

Bradley walked into the bedroom and froze as you were putting on your favorite pair of earrings. "What's wrong?" you asked, shaking your head at him. "Why are you staring at me like that?"

"You look fucking hot."

"Oh," you said with a smirk.

"This is a new dress," he rasped, running his fingers along the black fabric at your shoulder. "I really like it."

You kissed his cheek and whispered. "I knew you would, Beer Boy. It has a very low neckline."

He scoffed, "That's not the only reason I like it." But his eyes hadn't strayed from your chest for nearly thirty seconds. When his gaze finally met yours, he added, "My wife looks beautiful in everything."

"We're not married yet," you reminded him as his hand skimmed down your arm to your left hand and your engagement ring.

"Only because you didn't want to get married the day after I proposed."

"We were standing in a Denny's parking lot!"

He just shrugged and laced his fingers with yours. "Sounds perfect to me. As long as it's us."

"A Denny's parking lot," you emphasized, and you could tell he was trying not to smile at your look of indignation.

"Nothing's too good for my girl," he replied, barely concealing his laughter.

"Incredible," you muttered as you tugged him closer for another kiss. "You can take the Beer Boy out of the fraternity..."

He followed along, fingers linked with yours, as you led him into the dining room so you could finish setting up. "Wait, wait, it's like mistletoe. We have to kiss when we stand here," he said, leaning down to kiss you hard and proper in front of the doors that said SUGAR WILL YOU MARRY ME?

"Like mistletoe? I can't believe how sweet you are," you whispered as his lips trailed down to your neck.

"Let's call everyone and cancel." His tone was coaxing and his lips felt amazing.

"No," you moaned softly. "It's your Top Gun holiday party. And it's New Year's Eve."

When his mustache grazed the top of your chest as he said, "I'd rather tell everyone else to beat it so I can fuck my fiancée," you almost caved. But you promised everyone months ago, when you first moved to San Diego, that you and Bradley would host the annual party. There was a running joke that they got so wild one year, they almost got kicked out of a restaurant. But there was no way that was true.

"We have to host. I promised."

"This better be low key. Seriously, I just want a nice, quiet night in," he grumbled.

You laughed while he acted like he was being tortured as he helped you carry the pretty punch bowl and crystal glasses you found at a thrift store into the dining room. "Everyone will be gone right after the stroke of midnight," you promised him. "And I thought you liked your coworkers?"

He grunted and shrugged. "No, I like Nat. Bob's okay. Jake's annoying. The rest of the guys are fine."

"Oh my god," you whispered in awe, wrapping him up in a hug. "You love me the most, and I'm the only person you're not cranky for, Beer Boy."

He chuckled and pressed his lips to your temple. "You're just catching onto this now? Ten years away from you has made it so that I want to be with you all the time."

Okay, well now you were thinking about canceling after all. If he was going to be extra sweet like this, you wanted him all to yourself as well. But then you heard someone knocking on the front door. Before you let Bradley go, you said, "If you're well behaved tonight, we can talk about wedding plans tomorrow."

He perked right up. "I'll be so good."

"But it's still a firm no to the Denny's parking lot."

When you let Nat inside, she gave you a hug and said, "Hey, nice tits," before carrying a bottle of champagne to Bradley. At least now he had his friend to talk to. And you really didn't think your dress was that low cut...

After another knock, you let Bob in, and as soon as he looked at you, he was blushing profusely and stuttering. "Welcome, Bob," you said, really starting to regret wearing this dress in front of anyone except Bradley. When you leaned out onto the porth, the neighborhood was all lit up with twinkle lights. This was your first December outside of Virginia or Chicago, and it was still fairly warm outside. As you propped the door open for the others, you didn't think you'd ever get used to this kind of luxury. You had warm weather and the love of your life.

Soon Javy, Mickey and Reuben arrived with three identical smiles as they looked at you and gave you lingering hugs. "Okay, yep, that's enough," you said as Mickey squeezed you extra tight.

"Hey, Baby! Sugar!" Bradley was calling from the kitchen as you followed the guys in. "Oh, there you are. Do we have any solo cups and ping pong balls? And didn't I buy a case of PBR?"

You just looked at him like he'd lost it. It was New Year's Eve, and you were in your new dress. You even made sure he actually looked nice tonight instead of wearing one of his ratty old tee shirts. You had champagne, and he made crab dip and mini quiches to serve everyone.

"Maybe in the hall closet? And I'm pretty sure I talked you out of the case of Pabst Blue Ribbon," you said with a frown. "That's cheap fraternity beer, Bradley. We have actual incomes now. Only good beers all the time."

"That's okay," he told you with a quick kiss as he headed for the hall closet. "We can just play with the champagne!"

"What?" you asked, ready to follow him, but the guys had turned up the music. When you looked in the dining room Nat was moving your punch bowl to the floor in the corner, and Reuben was carrying four glasses precariously stacked up in each hand. "What's going on?"

"Rooster said he's a beer pong master," Javy said, before shoving three mini quiches into his mouth at one time.

Reuben was laughing. "He said he used to party at his fraternity house, but we don't believe him. Not Rooster."

"No," Mickey added. "Rooster always follows the rules. Never breaks them. And he never gets drunk."

"We're playing fucking pong," Bradley said when he returned wearing a backwards cap and holding red solo cups and a pack of ping pong balls. Everyone cheered. "They don't believe I'm a ringer, Sugar," he whispered just to you. "I'm about to fucking smoke their asses."

"Don't get too drunk," you said as Nat took the solo cups and squatted down to fill them using the punch you made with extremely expensive champagne. "Oh god."

"Happy New Year," drawled a voice behind you, and you spun to see Jake holding two more bottles of champagne. His gaze dipped quickly down to your cleavage before returning innocently to your face. He shook his head and said, "You know, sometimes I think Bradshaw might be onto something here."

"I'm never wearing this dress again," you muttered as he handed you both bottles with a huge grin on his face.

"Now where's everyone else?"

Just then, loud cheering erupted from the dining room, and you walked through the doorway to find Bradley and Javy playing against Bob and Mickey. Nat changed your playlist to one that sounded like it belonged at an actual frat party, and Reuben was scooping one of your crystal glasses into the crab dip and eating it with a spoon.

"What the fuck?" you gasped. It was like you were back at the Beta Gamma house ten years ago as Bradley took his nice shirt off and tossed it onto the doorknob of the door that said MARRY.

"I'm about to kick your ass, and the dining room table isn't even regulation size," Bradley told Mickey as the WSO missed a shot. "Sugar, we need to look for a table that's regulation dimensions, okay Baby?" he shouted over P.I.M.P. by 50 Cent. He just kept sinking shot after shot into the cups, and Bob was already looking drunk.

So maybe they all really did almost get kicked out of that restaurant before?

Jake was unbuttoning his shirt as well now as he said, "I have next game. There's no way Bradshaw can get this lucky all night long."

Bradley smirked and laughed as he looked at you. "I can, and I do, Hangman. Don't act like you haven't seen Sugar before."

Jake laughed, and the other guys cheered. You cradled your forehead in your hands as Bradley wolf whistled at you. "Jesus," you muttered, trying to decide if it was a good idea for you to get drunk yourself or if you needed to babysit the whole group.

"Why isn't your wife playing with you?" Nat shouted, and you contemplated closing the front door before your neighbors complained about the noise.

"We're not married yet!" you replied, but Bradley had his arms wrapped around you immediately.

"Sorry, Baby. I got excited and just grabbed Javy. You know what they say about old habits, and I haven't played beer bong in years. You're my partner next, okay? Your boobs will help distract the opponents."

You gave in and started laughing, because this whole thing was ridiculous. You let Reuben serve you some crab dip in a crystal glass, and you ate it while everyone around you got progressively drunker on your champagne punch.

Once Bradley and Javy handily won the matchup, he kicked Javy to the other side of the table to team up with Jake who was now completely shirtless. "You're up, Baby," Bradley said, reaching for you with so much excitement. "We're going to kick ass like we used to." His lips tasted faintly of champagne when he kissed you, and you were surprised. He was so good at this game, he rarely had to drink anything.

"Winning team goes first," Jake said, rolling the balls across the table to you as Nat set freshly filled cups in front of you. Bradley arranged the cups perfectly like this was actually his profession instead of aviation. And you just stood there and laughed as he stepped behind you and helped you square your hips.

"Okay, now, you need to be awesome, Sugar. Just like college. Because I've got like street cred on the line here."

"I got you, Beer Boy," you promised him and he moaned softly in your ear.

"Remember, it's all just a math problem, and you're so fucking good at math." He released you with a little pat on your butt, and then he was peeling his sweaty undershirt off and tossing it aside before fixing his hat. As soon as you were able to stop laughing, you tossed the first ball with a perfect arc, and everyone in the room watched it splash into the solo cup right in front of Jake while Bradley whooped.

"What did they teach you people in Virginia?" Jake asked, looking at you like he was thoroughly impressed. And then you watched Bradley toss his ball into one of the cups, and Javy groaned as he and Jake picked up their cups and drank.

"Roll those balls back over here, boys. We made both of our shots, so we go again," Bradley said before he kissed you hard in front of his friends. "Do you have any idea how badly I want to marry you in that Denny's parking lot tomorrow?"

You were laughing as Nat, Reuben, Mickey and Bob all lined up on your side of the table to cheer you on with the crab dip. "Kick their asses! Jake and Javy are good at everything!" Nat shouted over Big Pimpin' by JAY-Z. You did a little dance and then tossed your ball directly into another cup.

"It's just math!" you said with a smile.

"It's math!" Bradley reiterated to Javy and Jake. "And I feel bad for the two of you, because she's a mathematician." Then he made his second toss, too. "And I lived in a fraternity house for three years."

Jake and Javy looked miserable as you chanted, "Chug, chug, chug!" until they emptied their cups. Then you made another absolutely beautiful throw, and Bradley didn't let you down. In fact, the two of you made every single cup, and Javy and Jake didn't even get a chance to throw a single ball.

"House rules! You drink our cups, too!" Bradley informed them, gesturing to the untouched solo cups lined up at your end of the table.

"Get to it boys," you said as the others cheered.

Bradley was all over you again as Javy coughed and sputtered as he tried to chug champagne. "I swear to god, Sugar, if we weren't already engaged, I'd propose right now," Bradley told you as you adjusted the cap on his head and ran your fingers through his curls that stuck out from beneath it.

"I'd say yes again," you whispered just for him. "Who's ready to get their asses kicked next?" you asked everyone.

You and Bradley cleaned up so handily, the two of you were barely buzzed, but everyone else was hammered by midnight. The front door was still wide open, and the TV was on as you waited for the countdown to the new year. Bradley popped a bottle of champagne just for you and he to sip as Nat sat on the floor right in front of the TV with the punch bowl on her lap. Most of the guys were lined up on the couches, but Jake came right over to you when he stumbled out of the bathroom.

"I need to know how you did it," he slurred to Bradley as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders and pointed at your chest. "How did you manage to get Dr. Tits here? She's exquisite."

You sputtered as you laughed. "Did you just call me Dr. Tits?"

Jake leaned in close to your ear and laughed. "I'm sorry, but I can't even remember my own name right now, darlin'."

"Okay, Hangman," Bradley said as he handed you the bottle of champagne and pulled Jake off of you. "Clearly she has a thing for fuckboys. You can look, because she's smoking hot and it would be impossible not to, but you don't get to touch."

Well, you couldn't deny that. Jake winked at you as he sat down next to Nat before laying on the floor. Bob had the hiccups, Javy was asleep, Reuben was still eating the crab dip, and Mickey was running to the bathroom to throw up as the clock struck midnight. "I love you," Bradley promised before he kissed you sweetly. "And I think we should spend the day tomorrow laying on the couch and talking about getting married. What do you say, Dr. Tits?"

You pressed your lips together and then said, "Only Jake is allowed to call me that," as you erupted into laughter at the scandalized look on Bradley's face.

You kissed his cheek as he said, "I swear, just for that, it's Denny's or nothing, Sugar."

"We'll talk about it tomorrow," you replied laughing as you looked at the sloppy mess of Bradley's coworkers on all of your living room surfaces. "Now help me get all of them in Ubers so you can help me out of my dress."

"Oh, hell yes," he replied as he started clapping loudly. "Wake up guys. Rides are coming. Time for you to go so I can get lucky."

The two of you herded everyone outside and into the two cars when they showed up. "Night, Dr. Tits," Jake announced loudly to your entire quiet street as he kissed your cheek before Bradley shoved him into the waiting SUV.

"Dr. Tits..." Reuben said with a laugh. "Sounds like a superhero who is very good at beer pong."

"She is a superhero. She puts up with Rooster's shit," Nat said as she climbed in behind Jake.

"I think my sister went to Comic Con as Dr. Tits one year," Mickey said deliriously as Bradley helped him with his seatbelt. "The many adventures of Dr. Tits. She's my favorite Avenger."

Javy was already asleep on Bob as the cars pulled away, and Bradley scooped you up on the driveway and carried you back toward the porch. "You wanna go on an adventure with me, Sugar?"

You took his hat off and put it on your own head. "Are you talking about undressing me or marrying me right now?"

"Both," he replied easily as he kicked the front door closed behind you.

"Then yes."

---------------------------

Beer Boy and Sugar warm my cold, dead heart. Fuckboy Jake, drunk on champagne, also warms my heart. Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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doll3tt33 · 28 days

Text

Everybody knows I’m a good girl, officer ♡

(colin zabel x under arrest!reader)

Summary: once again, you find yourself being arrested by Colin, adding to his piling stress from an unsolved case. However, you discover that a tiny favor for the detective might bring him some much needed cheer…

Wordcount: 5.7k

Warnings: oral sex (m receiving), car sex, coaxing, reader is under the influence of alcohol, brief mention of a bar fight, aggressive and rude reader, rly vague implied age gap, technically abuse of authority (it’s obvious, but I’m still putting it out there. I advise not to read if any of this makes you uncomfortable)

A/N: sorry for the major inactivity guys, I’ve been busy! And this fic ended up being longer than I expected, but I hope it’s good enough quality. My first ever smut, so hope u guys enjoy <3 (also sorry if any typos btw T^T)

You stood motionless, reeling from the adrenaline coursing through your veins as the alcohol's effects faded. The rush of emotion receded to an eerie calm. As your vision adjusted in the dim light, the scene came into focus - onlookers surrounded you and a woman now being helped from the floor. Through the buzz still clouding your mind, one detail emerged with painful clarity: her bruised and bloodied face, a stark reminder of the harm just caused in a moment of impaired impulse and from your god awful temper.

Now the woman who you beaten black and blue, almost to the point of passing out, wasn't the focal point for dispelling the haze of your impulsive rage. Nah, this lady had it coming when she slut shamed you for being oh-so-bold enough to wear a tank top tonight. No, it was the bright flashing hues of blue and red seeping through the windows that acted as your wakeup call.

Just like that, a realization hit with sobering clarity - “Shit. Cops.” Without pause, you shoved through the crowd, desperation driving every move. Bursting through the door, the frigid night air raised goosebumps across your skin. Damnit, maybe the tank top wasn’t the best choice after all. Intoxicated or not, you were in no shape for an arrest. Stumbling at first, you found your footing and picked up speed, putting distance between yourself and the scene of the incident you started. You were gonna make it through! You were gonna outrun those pigs and they would never get their grubby hands onto you!

…That was until, a loathsome voice sounded from behind.

“Hey- hey! Where do you think you’re going?”

Before you knew it, you felt hands locked around your arms, yanking you to a halt. The telltale jingle of metal broke through your panic and with a sharp click, cold steel encircled your wrists. A glance back confirmed your dread. You weren’t being handcuffed by just any stinking cop - it was that good for nothing detective Colin Zabel arresting you once more, and for what, the third time this week? That’s one hell of a streak.

You sighed inwardly, the fight draining from your limbs, knowing any attempt in resisting would be in vain. “Goddammit Zabel, can’t you give it a rest?…” you muttered under your breath, as he hauled you back to the police car.

"I know, I know - save your excuses," Colin cut you off wearily, the smile not reaching his eyes. “Jus’… don’t start, ‘Kay? Do me a solid and quietly get in the car.” He opened the car door to the backseat, gesturing for you to step inside. Despite his perpetual mask of affability, you detected an edge of irritation - his good humor and patience clearly worn down by your repeated encounters.

“Whatever man…” you sighed as the door clamped shut with finality. Through the window you watched Colin slip into the driver's seat, releasing a long exhale as if to shed the stress of your latest encounter. At least you provided some diversion from his endless paperwork, though you doubted he'd admit as much.

True to his by-the-book nature, he slinked the seatbelt over himself, securing it with an assured click. Out of habit, he craned his neck over his shoulder, asking out of the goodwill of his heart. “Oh! Almost forgot. Do ya need a lil’ hand with fastening your seatbelt too?“ he offered warmly, “Don’t want any extra accidents happening tonight, am I right or am I right?” A hearty chuckle followed, dying abruptly once he took in your expression - eyes hooded and mouth set in a grim line.

“Fuck off Zabel.” you growled in response, fixing your stare out the window. He felt tension coil in his gut but forced it down with a hard gulp. As a veteran officer, he had faced far worse than you, yet something about your unpredictable defiance unsettled him. For a moment, under your glare, an angry retort rose to his lips but he bit it back, sensing it would only stoke the flames. Best to let the dust settle, he decided. Starting the car, he pointedly kept his eyes forward and drove in loaded silence.

“Alriiiighty then, no seatbelt it is. I’m just gonna… ah- y’know….” He cleared his throat, voice petering off into a nonsensical mumble as he shifted gears.

An uncomfortable hush fell over the car, only the revving of the engine permeating the stillness. Colin tapped the wheel, wishing for a distraction from the tension. His mind raced through possible conversation starters but came up blank. A stolen glance in the mirror found your stony profile unchanged. With a sigh, he focused back to the road, flicking on the radio more for the static noise than any musical preference.

Colin hummed softly to fill the silence, earning another kick from the backseat - your fourth such outburst. He was the pinnacle of what it meant to be a pushover, but he still stood his ground when needed to… in his own unique way. “H-Hey, Cut it out kid! And be nice,” he let out a weary sigh, peeking up at your vexed form through the rearview mirror “You know, I’m not a fan of this attitude you’ve got going on. Haven’t been for the past week.”

You sank lower into the seat, glowering. “First of all, old man, lay off the ‘kid’ crap. I’m not a child.” You rolled your eyes at his feeble attempt at reprimand.

Colin bit back another retort, clenching his jaw. Pride demanded he have the last word, if only to reclaim a shred of dignity in his own vehicle. “Hm no, I think I’ll call you a kid. ‘Cause you know why? You’re acting like one, like right now.” he replied evenly, bubbling frustration leaking through his amicable veneer, yet he still maintained some semblance of civility between him and your not-so-good of a temper.

As you drew your breath to speak, Colin beat you to it. “Look- all I’m sayin’ is, this isn’t good for you. This is the third time this week I’m haulin’ you in here. The third time!” Weariness tinged his laughter as he splayed his fingers out in front of him, only to reclaim the steering wheel in a swift motion. “Not only is this not doing you any favors kid—-“

“I said don’t call me kid.” You interjected sharply, cutting him off this time.

Colin continued on autopilot, fatigue chipping away at his usual cheer. “It's also not doing me any favors either. I've got a case to crack, but Mare - my partner - thought it’d be best if I dealt with you while she took charge of the investigation for the night…”

His shoulders slumped, eyes downcast as a cloud of disappointment settled in. As a county detective, he longed to prove himself with this investigation, not play referee to petty disputes. But saying no had never come easy, especially when others mistook his calm demeanor as weakness.

Silently, your eyes veered away from the passing scenery outside the car window, finally taking notice of his careworn features in the mirror. Attuned to the new lines of fatigue etched upon his face, you perhaps began to understand that this was wearing him too.

“Must suck being everyone’s errand boy.” You observed, tone lacking its usual bite.

Colin offered a tired nod. “Comes with the job, I guess…” his words trailed off, accompanied by a somber tone as his gaze returned to the road. “But y’know what they say- it is what it is.” he added softly, punctuating the statement with a self deprecating laugh.

Surprisingly, a twinge of sympathy tugged at your heart - a rare reaction to the shithead county detective. For all his attempts at camaraderie, which admittedly grated, you had to respect his resilience in the face of your unrelenting hostility. Hell, that time you clocked him during arrest, most would've thrown the book - but not Colin. His patience and optimism seemed a superpower, weathering your worst without breaking stride.

A strange blend of sympathy and guilt surged through you, as the realization struck you hard like a freight train - you had subjected the poor detective to a relentless barrage of undeserved hardship, oblivious to the weight of his personal burdens. Your chest tightened, and a foreign sensation stirred deep within as the reflection in the rearview mirror held your gaze captive.

The need for redemption gnawed at your conscience, but how could you possibly make things right? You've been a real pain in the ass to him for a good while now. Within the depths of your alcohol-induced haze, a daring idea began to take shape - could you perhaps make amends through a little bit of... shared pleasure?

It was pure insanity. Drunken impulses (and drunken you) are the epitome of idiocy. Vivid images flooded your thoughts, projecting the sheer horror that would contort his face if you dared to make a move now. It was likely that he hadn't experienced the touch of a woman in quite some time. And yet, that was precisely the point. The poor guy may have been deprived of any intimate encounters since his fiancée abruptly left him, and the growing urge within compelled you to do something about it.

Undeterred, an unwavering determination fueled your decision to make a bold move and test the waters. Shattering the silence, you adopted an uncharacteristically sweet tone to conceal your true intentions. "Hey Colin, think I could sit up front? It's kinda cramped back here."

Colin glanced over, clearly skeptical of your politeness given past rides. "Not sure that's protocol..." he began, ever the rule-follower.

Your lips formed a slight pout, an innocent plea. "Aw c’mon, I'm starting to feel queasy. Just to the station, what's the harm?"

“Uhh….”

Colin's head snapped in your direction, his eyes narrowing as he scrutinized your expression. Despite his suspicion, a flicker of genuine concern crossed his face. The thought of you unleashing your 'gastric distress' all over his car seemed to be a genuine fear he really wanted to avoid. He did not need an extra pukefest tonight.

Reluctantly, he caved in to your request, his voice colored with a mix of resignation and caution. "Ah, jeez... Look, you're not supposed to sit in the front, but fine, I'll make an exception this time." He maneuvered the car to the side of the road, stepping out to open the door for you. As you settled into the passenger seat, he retook his place beside you.

"Jus' promise me you won't end up throwing up in the car, 'cause I'm not looking forward to cleaning up that mess." With a playful smirk, he wagged his finger at you, but there was an underlying seriousness to his words.

"Chillaaaax, Colin. Don’t even worry, you won't see me hurling tonight. I've got it all under control," you declared, gracing him with a reassuring smile. The unexpected warmth of your expression caught him off guard, contrasting sharply with your usual snarky demeanor and the piercing death stares he had grown accustomed to.

However, Colin’s initial reservations melted away, reciprocating the gesture as a warm smile played across his face. He resumed his position behind the wheel, ready to continue the drive. But just as he was about to press the gas pedal, you captured the moment and took action. It was officially reckless business o’ clock. You sank down from the car seat, your knees grazing along the surface as you shifted toward the detective.

Colin's eyes widened comically, his mouth agape, utterly taken aback by this unexpected turn of events. "K-Kid, what on earth are you—"

Cutting him off, your slurred words emerged with a hushed urgency. "Shush. And I told you not to call me kid. Just wait, let me..."

Your words trailed off as you grappled with the cramped space of the car. Hindered by the handcuffs that still restricted your movement, you struggled to find a way to support yourself without the use of your arms. Nonetheless, you persevered, inching your way beneath the steering wheel and between Colin's legs.

You released a sigh of relief as you settled comfortably onto your knees. “Phew! Crawling around is no walk in the park without some arms. Anyways...”

“Hi.” An impish grin spread across your face, your eyes flickering upwards, locking with his apprehensive gaze.

“Wow hi, haha!“ his smile, already awkward, stiffened further as he involuntarily sunk deeper into the car seat, attempting to create as much distance as possible between the two of you. “So um… is everything okay? I mean, what’s happening right now? What are you… doin’ down there, specifically?” His words tumbled out, laden with confusion and a touch of concern.

“What do you think I’m doing?” you giggled, thoroughly amused by the sight of the detective squirming uneasily in his seat. A delicate flush of pink tinted his cheeks, a detail that didn't escape your notice. Your voice dropped into a low purr as you continued, relishing in the tension that swirled between you. “Weeeell... I had this little thought, you see. I wanted to make amends. You know, for being such a pain to you over the past few weeks."

A coy little shrug followed your words, as if you were merely toying with the idea. “And I figured, what better way than to help my favorite detective relieve summa his stress off his shoulders.”

You awaited his response with a wide grin, but all that greeted you was a dumbfounded Colin, his face now aflame with a deep shade of crimson blush, eyes wide and unblinking. The sound of his breathing, short and heavy, filled the tense silence, leaving you to wonder if perhaps you had made him uncomfortable. Although a certain part of his body seemed to betray a different sentiment, stiffened and undeniable.

As both of your gazes inadvertently dropped, your eyes locked onto a conspicuous tent forming beneath Colin's slacks. A mix of surprise and amusement flickered across your face, mirrored by the silent murmuring of the word 'crap' that escaped his lips. “Hah… that’s uh- real strange. Don’t know why that’s happening,” He gulped. “Good ol’ keys in the pocket, huh? They’re a pain, especially when they decide to stick out in weird angles. It's like, whoa, things can get a little… funny, you know? Awkward, even.” He added, his voice revealing a hint of panic as he desperately attempted to maintain his composure, all while his raging boner was in plain sight.

“Oh for god’s sake,” you groaned, impatience tracing a light furrow on your brow as the restraint of the handcuffs exacerbated your frustration. "You're not seriously trying to play dumb with me, are you?" You said, annoyance and amusement bleeding through your words. The power dynamics had shifted, leaving you unable to take the lead, and instead relying on the nervous wreck of a detective before you.

You closed your eyes for a brief moment, taking in a deep breath to steady fraying nerves. Determined to take a gentler approach, you decided to navigate this delicate situation with care.

"Come on, Col..." you cooed, leaning forward as far as you could, resting your head gently on his thigh. Your voice took on a soft, persuasive tone. "Let me do this for you." With a subtle flutter of your lashes, you batted your eyes, mimicking the innocent charm of a puppy seeking its owner's attention. Colin flinched, his knees threatening to buckle under the weight of your sudden touch. Yet, he remained motionless, his eyes fixed upon you in mounting suspense.

A smile curled upon your lips as you sensed his lack of immediate resistance, emboldening you to press forward with your gentle coercion. "Just once," you whispered, your voice filled with earnestness. "Let me do this once, and I promise you'll feel so much better afterward."

“..Jesus, I don’t know ‘bout this… I….” Colin mumbled, trailing off with a heavy uncertainty.

He sat frozen in place, his chest rising and falling with each heavy breath. His bottom lip bore the marks of his nervous chewing, while his brows knitted together in a hesitant frown as he weighed his options.

He knew he shouldn't, he reaaaally should not. It was morally wrong, a breach of professionalism, and could jeopardize his career if discovered. His eyes darted frantically outside the car's windows, scanning the desolate darkness that enveloped the streets in secrecy. But technically, no one would find out, would they?

And god, it had been a long while since he had been with a woman, especially since the bitter end of his engagement. And there you were right now, on your knees, your eagerness to please him palpable. Just the sight of you pouting sent his stomach into a frenzy of uncontrollable flutters, a reaction unexpected even from someone with a volatile temper like yours.

Bewitched by your feminine wiles, he barely registered how his hand had crept onto the top of your head, his thumb caressing your scalp with a tender touch. The throbbing heat in his pants intensified, overpowering any remaining restraint. With cautious swiftness, he glanced around, scanning the surroundings for any prying eyes, before his gaze settled back on your face - your smile, a comforting anchor in the sea of his conflicting emotions.

He sucked in a sharp breath through clenched teeth, his voice barely rising above a whisper. "F-Fine... Jus’ promise me you won't breathe a word of this to anyone, alright?" His hands returned to himself, fingers trembling as he loosened the clasp of his belt. The once ironclad resolve that had held him together began to crumble like fragile dust, succumbing to the pull of the moment.

“You have my word Col.” you reassured, your voice a soft murmur teeming with exhilaration.

Colin proceeded to undo his pants, the sound of the zipper echoing through the confined space. As he shoved them down, the dim glow of a distant streetlight seeped through the car window, casting a faint illumination on the scene. You couldn’t see all that clearly in the dark, but you did catch a glimpse of the outline of his cock protruding beneath his boxers, the fabric adorned with a telltale wet spot. Needless to say, he was far more excited than he was letting on.

Your mouth watered in anticipation, your core aching with need. Your senses heightened, thighs instinctively clenching as you awaited his next move. But just as Colin's thumb looped under his waistband, he hesitated, uncertainty settling over him like an icy veil. Restraints confined your hands, the itch of frustration crawling beneath your skin. In this moment, the immobility of your arms felt like a punishment far worse than being thrown into a holding cell later that night.

Unable to physically intervene, you relied on the power of your voice to guide the hesitant detective. "It's alright," you coaxed, tone laced with soothing encouragement. "Shake those nerves off, just this once. No one will ever find out..."

Colin's response came in the form of a hesitant nod - quick, uncertain, but nevertheless a nod. With painstaking slowness, he mustered the courage to give his boxers a small tug, gradually lowering them at an agonizingly slow pace. The measured movements seemed almost teasing, as if he were intentionally prolonging the moment. However, the truth was he basically personified a bundle of nerves, as though he was a schoolboy experiencing the thrill of his first make out session, unsure and skittish in his actions.

"How about we ditch these stupid handcuffs and let me take charge?" you suggested, your tone cutting through the air with an assertiveness that bordered on demand. Colin's head snapped up, surprise briefly shadowing his features as he registered the sudden shift in your demeanor and the scowl that tugged your lips. He couldn't entirely fault you for your impatience - he had been taking his sweet time with dropping his boxers. However, a part of him harbored a lack of trust, as dubious as it may sound. The restraints provided a sense of comfort and security, keeping you in check.

Colin's throat bobbed as he swallowed nervously, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. "Ehh... sorry, but that's a no-can-do," he deflected your proposal with his trademark easy smile. "You understand, right? It's nothing personal. Jus’ think it's... better this way."

“Ugh…” you grunted, eyes rolling in annoyance. You relinquished your desires, holding back any further comments or demands.

After what felt like an eternity, Colin steeled his nerves enough to continue, no longer willing to delay the inevitable. In a swift motion, he grasped the waistband, sliding it down until his cock sprang free, bobbing slightly in the air. Your gaze, once fixated on the crop of brown pubic hair adorning the base, now traced the veiny pathways that ran along his thick length, leading to the swollen tip—flushed red and leaking. For a seemingly meek police detective, he sure had a nice looking dick.

You smiled as you leaned in, tilting your head closer. Your eyes, brimming with excitement, darted back and forth between his face and his erection, gauging his reaction as you tested the boundaries. Despite his initial apprehension, there was a glimmer of delight in his gaze. Encouraged by his response, you inched closer, your lips ghosting the underside of his shaft, your warm breath teasing his sensitive skin, coaxing it to twitch in response.

Colin squeezed his eyes shut, bracing himself for the moment. “Crap, look- in case it wasn’t obvious enough, it’s been a while for me,” he blurted out shakily, already roused by the sight of your pretty lips caressing the heat emanating from his dick, sending a wave of warmth sweeping over him. His legs parted further, an unspoken invitation for you to draw nearer. “So sorry if I…. Y’know.. too early.” He stammered with urgency.

“I mean, you already look like you’re ready to burst before I even touched you,” you shrugged with a light chuckle. “But I kinda like that.” You flashed him a playful smirk.

He remained speechless, his face flustered and turned away, a deep red painting his features in the stillness of the moment.

Regardless, you took the plunge, gently pressing your lips against the sensitive underside of his cock. A soft, almost inaudible moan escaped his lips, a clear sign for you to continue. From top to bottom, you peppered his length with tender, soothing kisses. His hand immediately reached for your hair, his fingers finding solace in the roots to distract himself from cumming too fast, careful not to exert too much force and risk hurting you.

"And sorry about the whole hair-holding thing. I, uh... need something to hold onto when I'm really focused," he confessed, his bashful laughter intertwining with his words. His face still burning a deep scarlet hue, the admission both vulnerable and endearing. "Habit," he added, his lips twitching with shy sincerity.

“You can grip my hair as hard as you want. I don’t mind a little rough treatment.” you shot a wink, a giggle escaping your lips. Lowering your head, you tilted it to the side, your tongue tracing a stripe against his sensitive balls. Eagerly, you pressed your face forward, your lips latching onto one of them, suckling on it with a gentle yet insistent rhythm, each release elicited a small pop.

“Mmff!— fuck..” Colin‘s jaw went slack, a deep groan rolling off his tongue the moment your mouth made contact, his resistance melting away under the spell of your touch. His dark brown eyes dilated, glazing over your form below him. “Yeah, jus’ like that… jus’ like that…” he managed to utter out, his heaving breaths punctuated by muttered words of approval. His fingers entwined with your hair, massaging the crown of your head in a visceral gesture of pleasure.

“Ooh, you like that don’t you?” you remarked, a playful lilt in your voice as you pulled back slightly, savoring the sight of the detective's face contorting with undeniable bliss. “I wanna hear it baby, tell me how much you needed this.” You crooned, face colored with a teasing grin.

“Okay-okay fine, I won’t lie…” Colin huffed, admittance causing eyes to flutter away. Amused, you chuckled, flattening your tongue against his length, gliding it along a long and deliberate path, coaxing the rest of his words to spill out. A delicious shiver of electricity ran down his spine, sending a cascade of goosebumps rippling down his skin from his erection being teased. “Agh!- y-yes I needed this, I really… really needed this.” he babbled out, his breath hitching with the weight of his confession.

Satisfied, you continued. Your kisses swept from the base and drifted all the way up to the tip of his cock, tongue salty with precum as it expertly caressed the ridges. Colin's body quivered, responding with an urgent jerk of his hips, a wordless plea for you to take his cock into the warm and wet comfort of your mouth. You could feel the urgency in his veins buzz with an electric fervor, beckoning you to go further. For the sake of soothing him, you pressed your lips right onto the swollen head, treating him to small kitten licks on his sensitive slit.

“You’re so goddamn gorgeous...” Colin moaned, teetering on the edge of a whimper. His hips bucked forward once more, ramming his tip deeper into your mouth. Each squirm of his body against the supple leather of the car seat produced a small squeak, almost serving as a subtle backdrop to the moment. “God, you scare the living crap outta me... but f-fuck, you’re sososo p-pretty!” He choked, another whimper caught in his throat.

“Mhm… that’s what I do best detective…” you mumbled with a full mouth, the warmth of his fluids clinging to your breath.

The evidence of your arousal was just as indisputable as his, your panties most definitely soaked from the act of using your mouth on the detective alone, cunt weeping from the lewd noises leaving him with each stroke. Your lips glided further down along him, accommodating his warm slickness as you relaxed your jaw. “Ohmygod- holy shit you feel so good...” he groaned. He slumped back against the backrest, head lolling over his shoulder as he fought to stifle a moan. “Ngh- so good f-for me…”

Despite the discomfort that knotted your knees and the soreness that gnawed at your back from kneeling on the unforgiving car floor longer than you should’ve (all while handcuffed too!), that fiery bundle of elation simmering in your belly powered you through it. After all, Colin was all you could focus on, eclipsing everything else. His raw groans, the incoherent praises that spilled from his mouth, and the way your name danced off his tongue like silk - it was all you needed in the moment, utterly invading every fiber of your being.

However, it wasn't just you who was losing yourself in the moment. Colin's mind short-circuited completely, overwhelmed by the mounting pleasure that had him seeing dazzling stars. Your heavenly skills had transformed his body into a molten state of arousal, practically dissolving into a puddle of liquid. In this state, his thoughts scrambled like a glitching, outdated computer, and your lack-of-hands situation compelled him to take the reins in a mindless frenzy.

"Hope ya’ don't mind if I jus’..." he mumbled hoarsely, his words stumbling out spontaneously. His hands cradled the sides of your head, anchoring you in place, hovering inches above his seat to steady his rhythm. His cock delved deeper into the confines of your throat as his hips undulated to the flow of his ragged panting. His heart galloped like a wild stallion, synchronizing with the rhythm you created, while he sunk himself further into the depths of your wet heat.

“Mmh!- ‘m almost there! Need a lil’ l-longer.” Colin sputtered out, throat straining to keep as quiet as possible. He could see the glistening of tears stinging your eyes, whimpers muffled out around him. He truly never intended to subject your poor mouth to such rough treatment, his tip bullying the back of your throat with each jerky thrust until it was sore, pushing so deep that your nose buried itself in the tufts of hair on his pelvis. Despite the guilt welling up in him, he couldn’t help himself at this point. His body was now like a machine, moving on its own accord to milk every ounce of pleasure he could get.

Even then, you didn’t even break eye contact, not even once. Not when this police detective who nursed a hidden disdain for your tempestuous presence behind faux smiles, was now coming undone right before you - His once neatly styled chestnut brown hair now clung to his sweat-drenched forehead, strands falling over his flushed, pale features. His lips, now parted and glistening, revealed a glimpse of vulnerability, while his doe eyes sparkled with a feverish glimmer. Everything about him in this moment was enthralling, leaving you no choice but to be mesmerized.

The rippling tremors jolting through Colin's frame reminded him that he was nearing his climax, fire pooling low in his abdomen ready to erupt. Between heavy panting, he plucked up the courage to voice his request, his fretful eyes scanning the confined space of the car. “Hey sooo uh- you um… y-you don’t mind if I don’t pull out… right?” he asked, vulnerability threaded through his tone. He definitely wasn’t eager to see his load spray onto anything inside his police car.

Your nose scrunched up in clear disapproval, a glare shooting daggers at him, clearly not a fan of swallowing. He clicked his tongue in disheartenment, head tilted to the side “C’mon, do me a favor will ya?… Not really lookin’ forward to making a mess in the car.” He pleaded breathlessly. To his relief, no signs of protest emerged, though a sullen mask adorned your face.

As he noticed your lack of resistance, he seized the opportunity to follow through with his words. “‘m sorry!- So sorry. I-I’ll make it up to you later. Really!” Colin bleated, tone brewing with guilt and that familiar undercurrent of pleasure.

Squeezing his eyes back shut, he rubbed the bridge of his nose in an attempt to quell the tightly coiled spring in his belly, yearning for release. His balls tightened, cock pulsing as his thrusts into your mouth turned sloppy. Consumed by a blinding, searing white that engulfed his senses, his mind completely blanked. With one final forceful pump, he held your head close, ropes of cum painting your mouth white. Trapped in his surprisingly strong grip, you gulped down the bitter torrent, suppressing the almighty urge to gag as your tongue battled with the assault.

Once you swallowed every last drop of his cum, Colin released his firm grip, withdrawing his now softened cock from your mouth. His hands fell limply to his sides, the air in the cramped car heavy with sweltering breaths, as though the two of you had just completed a grueling marathon on a hot summer’s day.

Gradually regaining his composure, Colin peeled his eyes open, his gaze fixed upon your chest rising and falling, your lips swollen and glistening with wetness. “Jeez uhh, are you okay?- I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Post orgasm clarity rushed over him like a gust of fresh air, his lips downturned with genuine concern. He hastily reached into his coat pocket, digging out and opening a tissue packet, gingerly dabbing away the saliva and residue from your chin and mouth.

You blinked in confusion, caught off guard by the unexpected act of care from the detective. Well, that was a first - no one had ever wiped your mouth for you after a blowjob, but then again, your hands were bound, rendering you immobile. “Yeah I’m fine, you didn’t really have to do that, but I appreciate the gesture.” you replied in a hoarse voice, head shying away from him.

Colin's face brightened with a smile, a wave of relief washing over him. You were right - the weight of his once overwhelming stress seemed to dissipate. In fact, he felt like a brand new man! It had been a long time since he had been intimate with a woman, so this encounter meant more to him than you could ever know.

In an unexpected twist, he scooped you up from the car floor, strong arms cradling your waist as he pulled you into a tight embrace, cocooning you on his lap. In that moment, the softie within him had taken over, aching to shower you with affection and gratitude for the pleasure you had shared.

Your shoulders tensed in his firm grasp, your wide eyes betraying a mix of surprise and alarm. You couldn't help but wonder if he always got this sentimental after engaging in intimacy, and you couldn't decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

"Woooow okay, so we're hugging now huh? Someone's feeling affectionate tonight," you noted with a touch of sarcasm. Yet, despite your initial resistance, you allowed him to hold you, gradually surrendering to the warmth of his arms. Deep down, buried beneath layers and layers of pride, a part of you secretly enjoyed this, even if you'd rather be drawn and quartered than admit it.

“Yeah, hope you don’t mind. It’s jus’ that… you did such a good job.” Colin chuckled, his hand gently caressing the small of your back. “And hey, would ya’ look at that! I really do feel so much better now. So, genuinely, thank you.” His words resonated softly against the crook of your neck as he rested his chin there, his arms remaining securely wrapped around you.

You allowed the weight of the moment to sink in, basking in the warmth and tenderness enfolding you. Then, an idea suddenly sprang to mind, and you couldn't resist voicing it. “Say… since I did one hell of a job, does that maybe mean I’m off the hook now?” You pulled back, a sly brow raised as you awaited his response.

Colin let out an exaggerated huff, his smile filled with amusement as he ruffled your hair into a delightful mess. “Nope,” he replied teasingly. “You’re still getting your butt thrown into the station for the night.“

Your expectant smile swiftly dropped into a deep frown, prompting a hearty pat on the back from the detective as he erupted into a fit of laughter. “Sorry kid,” He said between chuckles. “Now chop-chop, time for you to get in the back!”

-------☆-------

I’m aware I made Colin more pathetic than he actually is and I apologize- Idk I just could resist 😭😭 Hope the aftercare made up for it tho??

🤍 only tagging one person cuz idk who else wants to be tagged:

@lacucarachapisser

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minervas-hand · 9 days

Text

Right to fear, wrong to believe

Just had a horrible realization and needed to meta it out.

How different they were before Edinburgh, when Crowley was sucked down into Hell.

Look at this flirty babygirl in the Bastille:

I mean could he climb that tree any faster?

(This is why I really like fics that place a more physical relationship here, pre-Bastille or just post-Bastille, because c'mon look at them. )

In S1 the next thing is 1862 and Crowley asking for insurance (with a cane ffs). And Aziraphale freaking out with his "fraternizing" BS. It's jarring, until we get 1827 filled in for us in S2.

@takeme-totheworld notes in this post:

Crowley sure went from "our respective head offices don't actually care how things get done" and "nobody ever has to know" to "walls have ears" FAST after Edinburgh. And Aziraphale went from looking at Crowley with hearts in his eyes to "I've been FrAtErNiZiNg" just as quickly. I'm more convinced than ever that Edinburgh was the first time Crowley ever actually got caught and punished for fucking around with Aziraphale/doing good deeds/whatever it was they yanked him back down to Hell for, and it scared the absolute shit out of both of them and changed the whole tone of their relationship after that.

Yes! - it's clear to me as well that the Edinburgh graveyard was a very bad turning point, where they both saw that Hell was listening and would intervene. And it did change their relationship drastically, for over a century and a half (really, until looming Armageddon loosened up the stakes for them).

But what about Heaven?

See the thing is, we know Azi's been worried about Heaven watching him for the past 6000 years.

But they haven't.

[GIFs posted by starrose17]

All this time, and Heaven had not seen them together. Hadn't noticed. Had not even LOOKED.

I want to mention what @starrose17 says about this here in this post:

What I love about this is her choice of words, “went back through the Earth Observation files.” This implies that these photos were already filed somewhere meaning somebody had to have been watching them which meant somewhere in the depths of the bureaucratic heaven there’s an underpaid angel clerk tasked with watching angels on Earth, and he’s been hording photos of his favourite Angel/Demon couple not reporting them to Michael because he wants to see what happens.

And that's exactly what this fic covers!: Spying Omens by @ednav

(Give this a read, it's fabulous.)

While I am here for this being exactly how that happens, the other scenario is colder and worse - there's no one watching, at all. It's just filing automatically and never seen until some Scrivener is called to pull a file.

From @fuckyeahisawthatat's comment here :

I found this scene to be quite chilling, actually. Not only is the idea of Heaven as a surveillance state brilliant (way to make “God is always watching” sound way more ominous) but this is exactly how modern surveillance states work. They don’t actively watch everybody all the time. That’s not physically possible for humans, and even if it is metaphysically possible for Heaven, it’s not a very efficient use of resources. Surveillance states watch people they deem “suspicious.” And once you’ve been put in the category of “suspicious,” they have massive amounts of data that they can comb through to collect a lot of information about you–to retroactively build a case justifying why you’re suspicious, to collect information about where you go and who you associate with, etc.

Yes.

So we either have secret collusion in the rank and file, or we have a surveillance state that is constantly reinforced to its subjects for fear's sake, for control.

(Well, it obviously could be both.)

BUT my point is… Up until Edinburgh, Hell has not been watching (or caring at least). And up until near the end of Armageddon't, neither has Heaven.

Oh, my poor Angel. Thousands of years, of denying yourself, of pushing Crowley away, of carrying around a tension that is it's own constellation.

After 1827 you might have reason, but for the 5000+ years before that?

Thousands of years and Heaven was not watching nor cared.

You were right to fear. And you were wrong to believe.

And that just breaks my heart.

#okay gonna go reread Spying Omens again because that's my headcanon now #I hope Azi tears out the Earth Observation cams or servers or whatever it is #where's Murderbot when you need a good hack #good omens meta #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #good omens

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cherrywrecked · 5 months

Text

princess — jang wonyoung.

since you guys seemed to like these, here i am with another one.

cw: nsfw in the middle of the fic. wonyoung x fem reader. cnc. somno? sub!wony. mommy kink. you're wonyoung's makeup artist. mentions of chaewon from le sserafim.

jang wonyoung—she's everybody's princess. everything she does just seems so fancy, elegant, beautiful yet at the same time, innocent. a lot of people love her for it, but of course, as an idol, that could just be a facade, right? wrong. for wonyoung, she really is like that. beautiful, elegant, sweet, but more importantly, she's yours.

she's no saint. jang wonyoung was far from being innocent and all of that was your fault. sure, she was once a cute little lamb, but ever since she met you, she changed. still sweet, but not innocent. how can you call her that when almost every night when she has the free time, she drops by your apartment, begging for you to make her cum?

you don't have any schedules with wonyoung until next week and it was killing her. you, on the other hand, is so busy with the back to back come back shows of artists you work for so really, you don't have much time to think about her. not until you got a message from her just after you finished packing up your things from le sserafim's shoot today.

wonyoung:

hi, mommy! i missed you today. i've heard from chaewon eonnie that you were working with them today. good luck and i hope you get to finish early. if you do, stop by my flat and spend the night with me? i miss you a lot.

ah, jang wonyoung, truly the cutest princess you've ever had. you immediately started typing a reply for her, letting her know you're free for the rest of the night. it was only nine pm, anyways, and undeniably, you missed her as well. so it was a win-win for the both of you. you felt your phone buzzed on your pockets as you were bidding your bye's with your team, but you didn't get to view it until you were in your car.

of course, it was a video from wonyoung feeling herself. along with it is a message that read; “can't wait to take these off for you tonight, mommy.” and so did you. you can't wait to see her.

it was exactly ten thirty pm when you arrived at her flat. without bothering to knock, you just typed in her passcode and let yourself in. wonyoung wasn't in her living room, so you quickly called out for her. “wonyoung? i'm here, princess.” you said as you walked towards her room. it was open, and there you saw wonyoung in the same clothes she wore on the video, except she fell asleep. she must've been so tired today, but you came all the way here, you're not going to let the night end without having a taste of her.

carefully settling yourself next to her, you caressed her hair as you called out her name softly. “baby, wake up, mommy's here.” but wonyoung was sleeping so deeply. she looked so pretty asleep, but the straps of her top slid off her shoulder already, exposing a bit of her chest and you could see a glimpse of her pinkish nipples. you bit your lower lip as you let your hand do its thing— tugging her top down, fully exposing wonyoung's chest. her nipples were hard— probably because of the aircon.

not saying anything, you just started to play with her nipples which made wonyoung squirm in her sleep. god, she's so cute. you pinched her nipples, rolling both of them around your fingers as you watch them get harder. wonyoung, sensitive as ever, parted her lips as she lets out the cutest pants and quiet moans. “mommy...” she moaned asleep. she's dreaming—or at least she thinks she is. wonyoung shifted, her legs now spread just enough for you to fit one of your hands in between them. she was wearing cotton shorts with nothing underneath and you can see her pink, shaven pussy. you smirked, taking one nipple onto your mouth as you played with the other, your gaze locked on her beautiful, flushed face. “sorry, princess, mommy just can't help herself.” you whispered against her ear whilst your free hand traveled south to her pussy. pushing the fabric to the side, you exposed her cunt before using your index finger to lightly pat her clit, loving how wonyoung would squirm every time your finger touched her.

wonyoung again shifted, giving you more space to play with her princess parts while you brought your kisses down to her stomach, and eventually, her center. still with the shorts on, you pressed a kiss just above her clit, watching wonyoung's sleeping face as you do. no reaction, you hated it. getting bolder, you pulled her shorts to the side before you flattened your tongue above her slit. finally, another reaction. wonyoung's eyebrows furrowed, tilting her head to the side. you started to circle the tip of your tongue around her clit, and wonyoung could only moan in her sleep. she still thinks she's dreaming, but she feels too good for this to just be a dream, right?

you wrapped your lips around her clit, softly sucking on her sensitive muscle and that's when wonyoung found herself waking up. shocked, but she was feeling so good. “m-mommy, y-you're here—a-ah! m-more, please...” wonyoung, still groggy, has now finally her legs spread widely enough for you to fit in between them and eat her out. “s-so good, mommy... more, please. m-more...” wonyoung breathe out, one hand cupping her boob while the other held a fistful of your hair, pushing you more against her.

wonyoung was a squirming mess and you could feel her juices dripping down to her ass. you toyed her hole with her own wetness, teasing the younger. “f-fingers, please... please please! 'm so horny, mommy, please.” wonyoung begged through her lashes, her doe eyes that looked so innocent yet full of lust. you gave her what she wanted and slipped two fingers inside of her. “ssshh, baby, it's okay, mommy's here.” god, she's so tight that she can't even handle two of your slender fingers. wonyoung arched her back as she stabilized her breath, walls clenching tightly around your digits. wonyoung swear she could cum with them alone without the need for you to move them around, but of course, she's learned her lesson not to cum without your permission.

“m-mommy... so so good, f-fuck...” she moaned, hips moving subconsciously. this made you chuckle, seeing her so desperate for you. “yeah? you miss mommy's fingers, baby?” wonyoung could only nod as she pushed your head more against her. taking her signal, you went ahead and started to suck on her clit as you started to move your fingers in and out slowly, gradually increasing your pace. wonyoung's moans are just as pretty as her face. you looked up at her through your lashes and god, you can't believe that a jang wonyoung is caught around your fingers... quite literally.

it didn't take long for wonyoung to feel the familiar knot forming on her tummy. she started to move her hips more and clenched even tighter around your digits and you knew, she was close. not wanting to disappoint the lady, you started to flick on her clit with your tongue before slightly pulling away, “cum for me, baby. cum for mommy.” and again, wrapped your lips around her clit and started sucking on it harshly, the same time you started curling your fingers inside of her, making sure the tip of your digits hit her sweet spot every time.

“c-cumming! mommy, mommy! fuck, 'm cumming...!”, strings of high pitched moans and profanities escaped wonyoung's lips as she came around your fingers and face. you helped her ride her high by gently flicking on her clit, tongue rolling around her labia which made wonyoung squirm even more. finally pulling away, she grabbed you by the neck and pulled her down to kiss your lips, tasting herself on your mouth. “wonyoungie missed you, mommy.” and you knew that with the way she locked her long legs around your waist. you were sure that tonight was going to be a long, pleasurable night for the both of you.

#kyna writes #jang wonyoung #wonyoung #ive #jang wonyoung smut #wonyoung smut #ive smut #ive wonyoung smut #wonyoung x you #wonyoung x reader #wonyoung x you smut #girl group x reader smut #girl group smut #kpop smut #gg smut #gxg smut #girl group x reader

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catfern · 10 months

Text

cowboy!ellie headcanons

pairing: ellie williams x afab!reader

music: roses are falling - orville peck

word count: 1.2k

warnings: fingering (briefly), drunk sex-ish, guns??, yearning and just sappy shit mainly im in a vulnerable state

an: this is shit brainrot bc i've played too much rdr2 and i want ellie to let me ride her cowgirl style. this took me for-fucking-ever because i got acrylics and dropped my wpm from 108 to 67. also if i put out a poll asking what fic to post next would people vote

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

✷ cowboy!ellie having the most pornographic, velvet-laced southern accent known to man. drawling out words in a whisper, that reassured wit sitting in her throat with a lopsided smirk. she’s such a tease, knowing how it gets to you, that ‘c’mon, sweetheart, you gonna make me wait f’you?’ after she trots ahead, glancing back at you under the wide brim of her hat. please, trying to make eye contact with ellie after a long day of riding (ifykyk), seeing just a glance of the veins in her neck, beads of sweat sitting in the little crevices as she leans down to her saddle bag. god, her hands!! and she looks at you, that knowing impatience and ‘okay there, darlin’?, and you can’t look at her, your head swimming and drowning in the molasses of her voice and too focused on the up, down, up, down, up trot of your horse.

✷ setting up camp for the night, bed mats a good distance away from each other, and you wake up, fire dying, moon high, and ellie is still awake, hands covered in dirt and ash and rust from her old revolver that she cleans too occasionally. the gentle scratch of charcoal on parchment, her body hunched over, protective like a creature, and when you call out to her, she TOSSES her journal into the dirt like it burned to touch. if the moon wasn’t so faint, you’d see the uncharacteristic blush fleeting across her cheeks, but too quickly, she tells you to go back to sleep, she’s just staying up to take care of the fire. you listen in a haze, and ellie tears out the five, maybe 6 pages?? of rough sketches, harsh lines etching out your body, your smile, your eyes, and stamps them into the cooling embers of the campfire.

✷ if we’re talking historically accurate cowboys, ellie is definitely the type to believe in dinosaurs!! it’s this new, fresh, science fad and everybody laughs at her for it, cause omg?? giant lizards?? nah!! but ellie is so adamant, reading every paper and pamphlet on the subject that she can get her hands on (assuming she can even read lets be so real), and she’ll tell you about it! small, reluctant meanders from more important topics, at first, but you’re kind and you listen to words either of you barely understand, and sure it’s a little bit boring, but she’s happy, and for some reason she makes it incredibly dynamic, crash coursing you on lizards that evolved (a buzz word in all her pamphlets) into BIGGER lizards.

✷ cowboy!ellie, the horse whisperer. she doesn’t teach you to ride, but you’ve never had a way with horses, cantankerous and rough, so you need a lil bit of assistance. ellie will take the lead, letting you rock behind her on your horse, your arms draped around her like common occurrence, and she’ll turn, ‘see? be gentle, she’ll listen. you’re a team, y’know?’

✷ ‘she just likes you more than me.’

✷ her laugh is boisterous, loud, it sounds like it belongs amongst the hills and caverns, like wind against rocks, ‘no one likes me more than you, flower.’

✷ one day, you’re just passing through a small town, nothing more than a few shops and scattered farm houses, and ellie spies an outlaw poster, poorly tacked to the community bulletin board. it’s her, badly sketched, sure. her chin is way too big, nose a bit askew, but it’s definitely her. and you laugh as she presses you frantically, ‘i don’t really look like this? do i?’ and it’s got some ridiculous nickname that definitely over-inflates her ego, ‘ellie 'longshot’ williams (no one has called her that ever) that she’ll parade it around like a medal

✷ ‘aw, love, do you need some help shootin’? don’t call me long shot for nothin’.’

✷ you’d get a bit vulgar, a bit defensive because, yeah, maybe ellie is actually good at shooting, and you could benefit from her teaching. but that fucking nickname, lording over your head with that lilt in her voice, and the childish, goading smile, you’d tell her to shove it somewhere the sun don’t shine and just pray luck guides your bullet.

✷ your now-so-serious scowl eats at her, so ellie has to swallow her boyish pride and shut up, simply falling behind you. gently tapping your shin with her boot to get you to adjust your stance, her hands stretching out over yours to feel out the barrel of the foreign pistol. they’re rough, calloused, unmade for this sort of gentle gesture, but you welcome the heat that they give. with a soft push and pull, like a tide she moves your fingers, your hands, to hold the gun well. her voice is a whisper as she instructs, ‘don’t hold it so loosely. stronger grip helps aim.’

✷ she’s shaking in her boots. a moment like this, tender, with you is scarcely shared. the closeness burns her chest as she feels you breathe against her, skittish but assured, ellie’s finger snaking around yours to settle on the trigger. you go to fire, and the recoil sends you backwards in a shock, ellie having to move her hands from the gun to your waist to keep you steady. you laugh something coarse, leaning back into her without a thought. adrenaline intimacy.

✷ ‘okay, maybe y’need a few more lessons before you get it right.’ it’s a selfish thought, but it cements ellie in that moment, with you just in her reach, and her revolver. she’d clean it for you.

✷ cowboy!ellie doing stupid shit, like taking longer detours to show you the scenery, the stretching fields and great mountain waterfalls, stopping to pick wildflowers (she’s a sap), or taking the extra care to saddle up your horse for you, securing the girth and not letting you touch it because ‘i don’t need you slippin’ on me.’ she takes care of you, out on the road, it’s not an official thing, but you’re off limits.

✷ ellie is kind, but sex with her isn’t. the first time, she’s terribly drunk, playing away her night in a saloon, at a poker table (she’s losing), and you’re sat at the bar, wearing that, and it’s violently throwing her off her game, so she decides to make it known that your presence is an interruption. dragging you upstairs, she’s unkind. ‘you’re not helping my luck, looking like that.’

✷ ‘how do you need me, then?’

✷ she tastes like cigarette smoke, and bourbon, and she smells like the sleek of rain on dry dirt, and feeling her all over you is intoxicating, rough. she’s quick, her lips aren’t soft but rather, a grating possession on your skin, a feeling that swallows you, melts you down in the heat of her hands. she swears, a lot, it sounds like disbelief but really, it’s a bribe. a prayer. ‘dear god, give me this, let me have this, and i will be devout.’ it’s primal, something uncontrollable. drunk, it’s worse. she loses herself in the haze, becomes complete disregard, her fingers inside you without hearing you, just feeling you. lost in you and she keeps pounding into you simply because she’s enraptured by the feeling of you clenching around her.

#ellie x fem reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams smut #ellie williams blurb #ellie williams headcanons #ellie the last of us #ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie x reader

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theemporium · 1 year

Note

so i have this idea… 👀 3x22 eichen house stiles but instead of having sex with malia he has sex with reader?

this is short and rushed because honestly i had to stop myself from writing a whole ass fic for this but enjoy!🖤

“Chaos has come again.”

Your lips twitched as you lifted your head to the sound of his voice. “Still going around saying that funny little riddle of yours?”

His head tilted to the side. “Still think it is a riddle?”

“You haven’t told me otherwise,” you countered, and he seemed to like that answer. “What brings you back to this shit hole?”

You hadn’t seen him here in weeks. He was an enigma when he first arrived, seeming like a dark tortured soul. He was mysterious and he kept to himself and it intrigued you. After some time, something had switched inside him. It was like the shyness disappeared, and there was something different to him. A thrill that you couldn’t deny your attraction to.

Everybody else in Eichen House were just as fucked up as you, but something about him was…different.

A different kind of fucked up that was addictive.

But then he left without a peep and you hadn’t heard a word about him in weeks.

Until now.

There he stood at the end of the couch, having somehow snuck into the building and make it all the way down to the basement—to you. And he was staring at you with a fire in those eyes, a dark, twisted fire that made something deep in your stomach twist.

“I had some loose ends I wanted to…tie up,” his voice was rougher than you remembered, huskier too. “Some chaos of my own to attend to.”

The book on your lap you were previously reading was moved to the side, your full attention focused on the boy in front you as he made his way around the couch and closer to you. You watched as his dark eyes raked over your figure, the thin shirt and sweatpants was not an unusual sight at Eichen but the way he was looking at you made it feel like ten times the outfit it was.

“You’re gonna make a girl blush, Stiles,” you commented with a teasing tone to your voice. But the smile on your face faltered when his whole expression dropped.

“Don’t call me that, dove,” he sneered between clenched teeth, leaning so close to the point his nose was brushing against yours. “Don’t use that name.”

Your breath hitched. “Then what should I call you?”

“I have had many names over the years. Many names and titles but none of them should matter to you, dove,” he whispered against your lips, his fingers ghosting along your bare arms. “You can call me void tonight.”

“Void?” you repeated.

“Good girl,” he murmured, one hand cradling your jaw, his thumb ghosting the edge of your lips. “You’re gonna sound so pretty screaming it for me.”

He was addictive. His words were addictive and his touches were addictive, and you knew he could have asked you for anything and you would have given it to him.

The clothes were shed in a blur of motions, laying abandoned on the cold concrete floor of the basement without another care in the world. And Void was everywhere: his hands on your body and his lips on your own, his cock thick and hard pressing against your thigh.

“I knew you’d be so good for me, dove, knew from the first time I saw you,” he whispered as his hands dipped between your legs, your cunt soaking and needy—all for him. “You’re the only person in this fucking town that could ever be good enough for me.”

“Void,” you panted as your hands gripped his shoulders, his body hot and warm against yours. “I-I…I’ve never…oh my god.”

His eyes darkened, something like a smirk growing on his lips. “You’ve never done anything like this before?”

You shook your head.

He let out a groan, low and heavenly, and it went straight down to your core. “Oh you, dove, you don’t even realise how perfect you are.”

“Please,” you whispered, your eyes wide and glossy as you stared up at him. The couch was thin and uncomfortable and probably as old as the building itself, but you didn’t care. You just needed him in any way that he would give you it. “Please, Void, I need you.”

Void was insatiable. He strived for chaos and pain and grief. He wanted to see the world burn down, for the supernatural wannabe heroes of Beacon Hills to go insane. He wanted it all. But he wanted nothing more in than to feel you come around his cock, to see you flustered and fucked out, to absolutely ruin you for anybody after him.

Not that he was quite sure he wanted there to be anybody after him.

“Shh, baby,” he cooed as he gripped his cock, slow strokes and his thumb teasing his tip. “I’m gonna give you it, give you everything.”

“Everything?” you whined helplessly.

“Everything,” he murmured as he guided his cock to your entrance, eyes focused on your face as he slowly sank into you. “You can take it all, dove.”

He watched in blissed awe as your lips whispered his name like a mantra and your nails dug into his skin, a tear escaping the corner of your eye and fuck, he could have came right there.

“Shit,” you whimpered as you tried to nuzzle your face into his shoulder. “Holy shit.”

“Atta girl,” he groaned as he slowly pulled out before sinking back into you. “Taking me so good, taking everything I’m giving you.”

“Everything,” you nodded, biting down on your lower lip.

There was something different in his voice as he spoke.

“That’s my girl, always by my side, yeah?”

You nodded.

“I always knew you were more than this shithole, dove.”

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piratefalls · 6 months

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“You are", he says, "the absolute worst idea I've ever had.” - me @ ao3 after watching the movie and thinking "there's probably fic for this."

i like lists. i've lost sleep reading fic like it's gonna disappear the second i look away. i'm making my problem yours. i'm sure a lot of these won't be new to people since they pre-date the movie and it's far from comprehensive but. i'm late to this party. i also can't make gifs, so enjoy the basic canva header.

(baby) don't make me spell it out by extasiswings

One night near the end of first semester 1L finals, just a few weeks before the two-year anniversary of their first kiss, Alex finds himself looking up from his desk with its messy piles of color-coded notes and tabbed textbooks to see Henry asleep on the couch, clearly having dozed off waiting for him to come to bed, and unbidden he thinks, God, I’m going to marry this man. It startles him, the spike of adrenaline that floods through him waking him up and bringing the parts of his brain turning over concepts like proximate cause and strict liability to a standstill as he stares at Henry. I want to marry this man.

God Save the Blessed American President Mom by zipadeea

["June stopped by at lunch; she showed me a delightful channel called Hallmark, which repeats the same story every hour after they swap one round of white, straight, small-town conventionally beautiful actors for another. It was entertaining.” “June and I used to play a drinking game with those. Take a shot every time someone goes ice skating, sledding, or leaves the big city for their tiny hometown.” “Good lord, you must’ve been sloshed in the first ten minutes.”] -- On December 4, 2021, an attempt is made on President Ellen Claremont's life. Alex gets shot instead.

Familiar Gravity by cmere

“Yeah,” Alex breathes, and he pulls back to look Henry in the eyes. “I’ve been fantasizing about you fucking me in this chair for, like, weeks. Every time you sit down here with your stupid book.” Henry likes it when Alex speaks Spanish and Alex has a request.

Am I the Asshole? by everwitch

AITA for spending Valentine’s Day with my roommate instead of my boyfriend? It’s well past midnight on a Saturday and hardly the first time Alex has scrolled aimlessly on his phone instead of trying to sleep, but it’s definitely the first goddamn time Alex has discovered his roommate has made a lengthy post about last night’s curry debacle to r/AmItheAsshole — a post that’s apparently gone fucking viral. -- In which Alex and Henry are college roommates, and a few thousand strangers think they should fuck.

Everybody needs good neighbours by railmedaddy

To nora(9.37pm): So a funny thing happened My hot neighbour brought me the mcflurry i ordered and we fucked From nora (9.38pm): WHAT DETAILS NOW Which neighbour? Wait, you only have one hot neighbour. Alex, did you fuck a guy?!?!?! ALEX Or Alex meets a hot new neighbour. Shenanigans ensue.

A Picture on Your Corkboard by bleedingballroomfloor

It happens on a random morning in May when Alex, age fourteen, pads into the kitchen to greet his mother and steal a waffle from June's plate and sees a man sitting at their breakfast counter, reading a newspaper, a cup of coffee raised to his lips. Like he belongs. Like it's the most natural thing in the world. June doesn't seem to give the man a second thought. She merely flicks Alex on the forehead and takes back the waffle. Ellen isn't worrying, either. In fact, she's talking to him. Asking what his schedule is like. Making plans for dinner. Alex has never seen this man before in his life.

this is the worthwhile fight by dearhappy

It's not that Henry's scared of their future, he's never been more sure of anything in his life. The thing is they're still trying to figure out how that future is going to look. And he worries about how it'll affect Alex's career in politics.

Déjame Ver Cómo Es Que Floreces by 14carrotgold

Oscar gets in close and bluntly asks, “Earlier. In the bathroom. Did you do it?” Alex scoffs, “No. Don't be a perv. Why would you wanna know that anyway?” Oscar rolls his eyes. “Mind out of the gutter, chamaco. Did you propose?” Ah. - Henry is introduced to the extended Diaz side of the family at their matriarch's birthday. Shenanigans (and romance and feelings) ensue.

Please Don't Let Me Be So Understood by chamel

“I’m glad you both see it that way,” Dr. Chen says. Then she closes her notebook and folds her hands on top of it. “I think I’m starting to get a sense of where the issues lie. The good news is that you’re both here, and you’re both willing to work on this relationship. That’s promising. Not all of the couples I see are even at that point.” “Sorry, what?” Henry says, voicing Alex’s stuttering thoughts as well. (After one too many fights at work, Henry and Alex are assigned mandatory reconciliation therapy by their boss. Except the therapist thinks they're there for couples therapy... and surely, a bet on who will break first makes more sense than actually correcting her, right?)

Such a Burden, This Flame on My Chest by allmylovesatonce

Alex Claremont-Diaz is relocating back to Austin to join his dad's firehouse. His days as a firefighter in Washington D.C. ended badly, but no one knows that, or knows why. And he plans to keep that close to his chest. He has to shove it back down if he wants to seem like a normal person, if he wants to do the job, if he wants to get along with his new crew, and most of all, if he wants to get to know the hot British firefighter on the squad. No one can know what really happened.

thinking (about last night) by rhosyn_du

“I hope you know that I am literally never going to stop reminding you that you said that. I’m going to, like, take out an ad in the student paper. Maybe hire a skywriter or something. I am definitely telling Pez." "I hate you," Henry tells him. "Lies," Alex says, still laughing. "You know you love me." Henry lets out a heavy sigh. "Well," he says softly, "that's rather the problem, isn't it?" “What, you think we’d be better off if we still hated each other?” “I think," Henry says slowly, "I’d be better off if I could figure out how to stop being so stupidly in love with you.” It takes a few seconds for the words to really register, as distracted as Alex is by the heat of Henry’s breath and wondering how much it would cost to actually hire a skywriter. Once they do, it takes a full minute before Alex can move. Can breathe. Can think. Finally, he forces out a whispered, “What?” When that gets no response, he tries again. This time, his voice actually cooperates. “Wait, what?” The only response he gets is a soft snore and Alex realizes that Henry, the utter fucking asshole, has passed out on his shoulder.

you're the reason i let myself fall by perfect-porcelain (tedddylupin)

Alex doesn't quite know what to expect when he walks into a room with a glowing screen separating him from the person in the other pod. The entire experience makes him skeptical. How can you fall in love with someone you've never met? Or: Love is Blind AU

Sharper Head, Wilder Heart by Dawg1515

"This could work out,” Henry offers. “It could,” Alex replies. “That’s good, then. Someone’s going to have to walk me through the brilliance of Empire Strikes Back, after all.” “Sweetheart, if we’re legitimately dating now, I’m forcing you to watch every movie that has Harrison Ford in it.” “Duly noted.” Or: When the Queen decides it’s time for Henry to settle down with a woman, she arranges a courtship between him and Alex Claremont-Diaz, closeted political powerhouse. Alex secretly tells Henry he’s trans, and Henry tells Alex that he’s gay. To say they become an amazing couple would be an understatement—but nothing is ever that easy for a prince and a president’s son.

every version of you (i love) by coffeecatsme

“So,” the voice narrates as the man squishes the dog’s cheeks and laughs at himself. “There’s this guy that lives next to me with the cutest beagle in the world and this little guy climbs to the fence every day to drop his toys off at, like, 5:30 on the dot, I’m not kidding.” The camera shows the man boop the dog’s nose and press a little kiss to his forehead. There’s a ball in his hands that he hands to the dog, but it slips from his mouth all over again, making the man reach down to grab it. He glares at the dog, but even then he’s still smiling. “And this guy always walks by and picks up the stuff and it’s the cutest fucking thing ever you have no idea.” The camera zooms in farther into the man’s smile, genuine and wild, as he pushes his wild curls away from his face. His eyes flicker up when another figure walks into the frame, his blonde hair falling over his forehead in waves. The man’s smile, impossibly, widens. “Oh. I’m also pretty sure he has a crush on my neighbor.” Or, 5 times David greets Alex with something that belongs to Henry, and 1 time he greets Alex with something that belongs to both of them.

The Duke Who Loved Me by annesbonny, Inareskai, schmulte

This Author knows as well as anyone how much you, gentle readers, enjoy a scandal and a love story. And what could bring more delight that two young gentlemen who bring both of those wherever they go? Join the Duke of Mountchristen and the, untitled, Mr Claremont-Diaz as they attempt to find a Love Match amongst the gossip of the ton.

The Edge of Glory by politics_and_prose

Subject: CD-10 To: Alex Claremont-Diaz ([email protected]) From: Natasha Wallace ([email protected]) Alex - You know how you jokingly told me to let you know when Mayfield was vulnerable and/or not seeking re-election? Tash

lying in the low light by smc_27

The thing about having a one night stand with the guy your sister is close friends with and gatekept from you is that it becomes really fucking important that she never knows. Or, Alex and Henry have a one year stand. Or, Alex and Henry are in a relationship, only they’re the only ones who don’t know it.

what we might do (if we stop keeping a secret) by indomitablelove

'This isn't how I wanted to tell people. I thought we'd get the chance to do it right.' - Red, White and Royal Blue, Casey McQuiston, p.327 --- or, in another world, Alex and Henry get to do it right.

Who Could Love You The Same as I by MariaDmitrievnaLikesSundays

Inside was exactly what Alex had found himself dreaming about ever since that night at Kensington. The kind of dreams that he forced himself to forget once he woke up, but dreams all the same. A gold band, simple and smooth, with a single square diamond embedded on top. It was small, modest, exactly to Alex’s taste. ”Holy shit,” he said again. “Holy shit.” That was a ring. That was, unmistakably, an engagement ring. Hidden in his boyfriend’s coat. And he had just found it.

—— Or, Alex finds the engagement ring that Henry had hidden, and does exactly what you’d expect him to.

As the World Falls Down by 3bowtruckles

So while we all knew that the 2020 written in the book would be glorious fiction, we didn’t realize that reality would throw us something to take 2020 even further away from the book’s events. This story is where I attempt to merge our 2020 reality and the fiction of RWRB, using research (a LOT of research) to try to figure out what the trajectory of reality might have been. The story starts picking up the timeline after their late-February trip to Paris. After that, it's strictly AU, but I try to keep a lot of the intents of the events in the book (for instance, Alex's trip to confront Henry in Britain after the lake) while still making them fit the narrative I've created.

We'll Change the World Yet to our Dessire [sic] by cresswells

Alex and Henry are engaged and ready to share their announcement with the world, but after the media circus surrounding their forced outing Queen Mary wants them to do things properly this time. To Alex’s surprise, ‘properly’ apparently means taking a Royal Tour around Europe as an official couple. Ten days, five countries and lots of unnecessary wardrobe changes. What could possibly go wrong?

where clouds look like mountains by weather_stained

Four months after the election, while still learning to navigate the complexities of being in a public relationship, Alex finally has the chance to show Henry around Austin.

We'll Invite Something In by smc_27

Alex is grinning a little too hard. This is absolutely idiotic and pointless and fun. The cover of Hello UK with a photo of him pulled out and a photo of His Royal Highness Prince Henry Fox-Mountchristen whatever the hell the rest of his names are (Alex knows; he being a dick) with the admittedly stupid but flattering headline which reads: His Royal Highness: He’s just like us and crushes on Pres ACD.

Henry's Cold, Empty Tower by DracoWillHearAboutThis

“I want you,” Henry said, slowly but clearly, “to leave.” When Alex storms Kensington Palace, Henry sends him away. Then, their relationship gets leaked, and it's Henry's turn to fight for Alex.

behind the diamond-shaped glass by Celaestis

Five times Alex and Henry used tea and biscuits to communicate, and one time they don't need to.

The Byline by rosetintednerdglasses

Press Secretary Alex Claremont-Diaz serves at the pleasure of the President, and he does it excellently until a new White House correspondent darkens his press room: Henry Fox, The Guardian.

we've been here forever (here's the frozen proof) by r_holland

Objectively, I am aware that you – a stranger – cannot tell me my own sexuality any better than I can, however... Can you, please? Tell me? It’s 4am and I have been thinking about this for hours, and I can’t sleep. Warmest regards, ACD *** It’s four in the morning, and Alex Claremont-Diaz has managed to follow a research spiral straight down into a personal crisis. It isn’t the first time.

words on the tip of your tongue (but please don't say them) by viciouslyqueer

So close. He was so close to saying those words that have lived inside him for so long, and now it's gone, a moment that slipped right between his fingertips before he could grasp it. Now he’s floating in the middle of the lake alone, the ghost of Henry’s touch still lingering on his skin and an unknown, heartbreaking feeling in his chest. — Or: canon-divergence where Henry doesn't leave the lake house.

The Grand Tour by lucky (revolutionbarbie)

When Henry returned from an audience with Queen Mary looking stony faced and grim, Alex had immediately feared the worst. She had requested to see Henry – and Henry alone – the moment their plane had landed at Heathrow on a visit to Pez’s new shelter in London. Alex had suggested that they go to see her together just to spite the old hag, but Henry wanted to keep the peace. Since moving to Brooklyn, they had entered into an uncomfortable détente with Queen Mary and Henry was loathe to be the one to break it. “She wants us to go to Australia. It would be an unofficial Royal Tour, of sorts, with stops in several cities and a short visit to New Zealand. Three and a half weeks in total.” “She wants to send us on an all-expenses paid Australian getaway? Count me in.”

come and get me by rizcriz

The email arrives 8 days after Henry left the lake house. He contemplates deleting it without reading, but it sits in his Alex inbox, where there are over seventy emails favourited, and somehow it feels wrong and weirdly impersonal. As if leaving without a note were any different. He stares at the from line with an aching longing that seeps into his veins. It settles on his heart like a tangible thing; something warranted and cruel that casts shackles around the aorta and locks them tight so that he might never love again. -- or, alex sends an email instead of flying to KP.

Never Did Run Smooth by clottedcreamfudge

"You and me? Best friends. Stellar. Love that for us. But we could absolutely fake being in love. Dating. Whatever. I know literally everything about you—" (No you don't, Henry thinks firmly) "—and you know everything about me. We would absolutely fucking annihilate the other contestants.” "You're too drunk to apply," Henry points out, like he himself isn't about as wasted as it's possible for him to be without curling up and going immediately to sleep. "I doubt you could spell your own name right on the application. Or mine." Alex grins and pulls something up on his phone; it looks like it takes him a few tries. "Wanna fucking bet?" *** Or: Henry's life is a comedy of errors; a patchwork of oopsie-daisies; a quilt stitched together with hauntingly terrible mistakes. And at the centre of it all is his best friend, Alex Claremont-Diaz; director of said comedy, threading together his oopsie-daisies into a flower crown, rolling around in the quilt of his own making, and this analogy is going to shit because Henry's so in love with him he wants to die.

idk I'll do a part two if anyone wants.

#rwrb #firstprince #red white and royal blue #fic rec #fic rec list #i try not to do multiple authors on the same list so #just assume if they're here i read all their stuff plus their bookmarks lmao #for the record I have 100% read the book I just didn't think there'd be fic for it lmao #rwrb rec list

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may0tuna · 9 months

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I hate you more! | Rodrick Heffley x Reader

Author's note: So not sure if people still read Rodrick Heffley fics but I had this idea (and could not find something similar that's already written) where the reader decides to sabotage Rodrick from getting it on with Heather. Reader is at the top of the highschool food chain and is friends with Heather, but hates Rodrick so she sabotages him. A classic enemies to lovers!

Part 2, Part 3

You feel like you've been living a double life. You get straight As because, well, your allowance is tied to your grades. But what most people don't know is that you typically sneak out at night to hang with your boyfriend. Well, ex-boyfriend. You smoke, you party, you skip town without your parents ever knowing. But during the day, you looked like someone who goes to church every Sunday. In fact, you're quite impressed at how you're handling this double life. You learned, at a young age, that all there is to life is observing the people around you, and using those observations to your advantage.

Well, you thought to yourself, it's time to test these theories all over again as you move into a new town, new school, new classmates, and new friends. Unfortunately for you, your new neighbor doesn't seem to grasp the idea of a nice and quiet Sunday morning. You decided to pay them a visit, and maybe remind them that their garage isn't soundproof enough for the noise coming out of it.

You walked up to the door and gave 3 loud and firm knocks, waited a couple of seconds until you hear footsteps.

You expect the mom to open the door, which is why you brought cookies as a means to be a good new neighbor but you were greeted by a tall and dark-haired guy with eyeliner. He eyed you up and down in frustration before landing his gaze on the plate of cookies in your hand.

"What do you want?"

You forced yourself to be civil. "I just came here to give you cookies. We just moved in next door when I heard this sound coming from-"

"Yeah yeah, thanks for the cookies!" And with that, he slammed the door in your face. The audacity! You scoffed and started to walk away. The noise had not died down, and you walked away not believing how rude and ill-mannered your new neighbor was. God, if it means hearing this noise every weekend, you might beg your parents to move again.

First day of school. You were pretty confident with your social skills so highschool is a cake walk for you. Living a double life means you ought to know how to act in certain situations.

First period. You were introduced to the whole class. Your introduction was amazing. Everybody loved you. You had come into that room, dressed to impressed, and you even cracked a joke that made everyone laugh. Well, everyone except for your neighbor who's in all of your classes by the way. He was too busy talking about his band to basically anyone who's not deaf. What's worst is that you're sitting behind him.

Because of your peak social skills, you were sitting with Heather that day for lunch and apparently, they're at the top of the highschool food chain so that works for you too. You also learned that your neighbor, Rodrick, obviously had a crush on Heather. Since you sit behind him, and Heather sits beside him, you have observed all of the tell-tale signs that he's desperately in love with her. You smirked at the idea, and the endless possibilities of making his life a living hell.

School bell rang and everyone hurriedly packed their belongings. Heather asked if you wanted to go to the mall. You agreed and she told you to meet her upfront. Rodrick obviously heard this, and based from his expression, he was surprised that Heather and you are that close already. When everyone had left the room, you called out to Rodrick to set your plans of destroying his life in motion.

"Hey"

"Heyyy," he asked, curious why you were talking to him after he slammed the door in your face. He decided that it would be nice to at least be on your good side since you're friends with Heather so he started with an apology, "Listen, about what happened, I'm sorry but Sunday is the only time I can practice with my band. It's hard work, you know."

You smirked at his half-ass apology but mostly because you can see right through him, but you had a mission, "Oh don't worry about it! Actually, I wanted to tell you that Heather has a message for you."

As soon as you mentioned Heather's name, it was like something inside him had turned on. "Yes?"

"She's too shy to tell you this herself but she kinda has a crush on you. But she can't be too obvious because you know, in dating, guys make the first move, right?"

"Yeah," he said trying to comprehend every word you just uttered.

"Yes, so she doesn't want to go out with someone who did not officially ask her out. You know?"

"Yeah!" He said again as if he had solved a puzzle in his head.

"Okay, so tomorrow at lunch, why don't you "officially" ask her out?"

"Yeah?"

Jesus. You couldn't comprehend how slow this moron is in front of you. You were practically spoon-feeding him. You decided to repeat what you said just to make sure he gets it.

"Tomorrow. At lunch. Ask Heather out?"

"Yes. Okay, I can do that." He said trying to hype himself up.

You walked away feeling good about your plan when you decided to add one final touch to it. You looked back and called out to Rodrick.

"Oh, and don't forget, Heather looooves grand gestures!"

#diary of a wimpy kid #rodrick rules #rodrick heffley #rodrick heffley fanfic #rodrick heffley fluff #rodrick heffley x you #rodrick heffley x reader #rodrick heffley x y/n #loaded diper #devon bostick #I hate you more

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starsherit · 8 months

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Hi book club, how's everyone doing? Everybody make it out of The Volumes of Pain okay? Anybody need some Vashwood fix-it fics? Because I've just been reading everyone's posts on vol 9 & 10, and I sure as hell needed them!

These are in no particular order, but they're all fantastic and amazing:

I believe in the Kingdom Come, by tenshinokorin

Fantastic characterizations, for both WW and Vash, and a nice little twist to reincarnation in the sequel. Completed.

Someday out of the Blue, by tenshinokorin

Sequel to the above, just as fantastically written. Completed.

CAUSE OF DEATH (See instructions and examples), by neatrogenous

Fix-it with a spectacular twist and amazing dialogue. Absolutely loved every single interaction in this. Completed. (ch 13/13)

Black is the Color, by tenshinokorin

Fix-it that features a ghost and Vash’s powers, a fic that takes its time getting to the actual resurrection but that time it takes is spectacular. Loved every bit of it (and all of tenshinokorin’s writing in general, tbh). Completed.

The lie behind the golden truth, by jevana

The reincarnation fic that I didn’t know I needed, but oh boy did I! WW is reborn as an independent. The world building in this is also top notch and lovely to delve into. On-going (ch 10/?).

nowhere left for us to go but heaven, by everythingeverything (yiqie)

Gah, this one! Post-Trimax, WW lives, they go on a trip, it’s got so much feels and it’s so well written! Also features VW taking over the orphanage and forests! Completed. (Prequel to this one is here but it’s on-going, ch 1/3).

Tomorrows, by fullmetalheart

Very good coping fic, very soothing for the soul imho. Reading it makes me smile in a uniquely quiet, peaceful way. Completed.

Just a Hobby, by fullmetalheart

I still remember how hard this one hit me at times, while reading. Resurection-in-far-future fic that’s done superbly, with great characterizations and one particular line (the title) that I’ll never forget. Completed.

AND SOME SADS BUT GOODS BELOW

Gaps of Sunlight, by ghosttopiary

I… don’t know how to describe this one. It won’t make anyone here feel any better. But it is absolutely gorgeous. Tissues and soothing background music recommended. Completed.

IN EXCELSIS DEO, by adlvnam

This miiight make some people feel better, but damn is it ever heavy. It ends on such a light note, though, like a little peck of hope and sunshine after some dark dark dark. Completed.

how can there be more when this is done, by tasteoflemons

Again, no words. Just… god just read this. It’ll tear your heart out and then won’t exaaaactly glue it back together, but… but you’ll love it. It’s so unique and beautiful. Resurrection… of sorts. Completed.

#trigunbookclub #trigun fic recs #trimax #vashwood #trigun

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yellowocaballero · 8 months

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Reading 'Solo Leveling' (a webtoon/webnovel about a guy who uses a game-like interface to level up and fight monsters and become ridiculously OP and the coolest and hottest guy in the whole wide world) really proves something to me that I've thought about.

The goal of a story is to achieve what it wants to achieve. Different genres have different certain marks the story should achieve. If it doesn't hit those marks, it's not a good example of the genre. In a lot of was it's not even a good story - it doesn't entertain the audience in the way that they want to be entertained. A romance novel isn't a bad story because it doesn't feature great action scenes, but neither is it a bad story because it doesn't delve deep into the sociopolitical implications of neocolonialism. Does it make the reader feel happy? Is it cathartic? Is there a happy ending? Then it's a good romance story - even if you think stories shouldn't need happy endings.

The 'satisfaction' of stories like Solo Leveling is the fact that is very entertaining to watch a guy be super powerful and mow down bad guys and have everybody around him go "WHOAH that's a cool guy". Maybe it's cool because you're projecting, or maybe you like great action scenes, or because you like 'underdog gets powerful' stories. It's a power fantasy. That is the goal of Solo Leveling, and so long as I'm going "WHOAH COOL", then it's a good story. And Solo Leveling is the example of the power fantasy video game dungeon OP protag. It does those elements, it executes them competently, it's a good story.

This is the third of these types of stories I've read more than 5 chapters of. The first was Omniscent Reader's Viewpoint. And baby. This is no ORV.

ORV a big reaction to Solo Levelling in a lot of ways, since Solo Levelling was very genre defining and influential, and it's hard to write these OP stories without having a relationship to Solo Leveling. It's like the most popular webtoon out there. The OP hero, the gaming interface and rules, the gods fucking you up, power fantasy - they're all checked off by ORV. It doesn't subvert them much. You watch kdj pull one over on a shmuck and you're like HEY YA BABY and you watch him utterly decimate some schmuck and you're like WHOAH COOL. You like ORV, basically, for the same reasons you like Solo Leveling. They're the same genre and in a lot of ways the same story.

But ORV has driven me nuts and after a while Solo Leveling has gotten boring. Because ORV has a fantastic supporting cast that puts the MC's OPness in relative perspective. Because there's cool action scenes with different teams, of different dynamics, giving freshness to each chapter. Because you get to see kdj slowly implement some nuts gambit of the course of the entire arc and when we finally hit the end point where it all comes together it's FUCK YEAH. I'm leaving out the actual depth here. But ORV and Solo Leveling do the same thing, except ORV has a great deal of other story elements that build into the main 'point' and escalate the satisfaction, joy, and intensity of those points. You don't read these OP hero novels for the supporting cast. You read it to watch a dude be cool. But ORV's supporting cast - and, like, the fact that they're actual characters, even the women - gives us a lot of other smaller 'hey yeah!' moments, gives it buildup, makes the OP moments meaningful, and gives a grand climax and huge satisfaction when kdj does what the SL guy did by himself. And the supporting cast is only one example of this. A story is a good story if it accomplishes its point, but a story like SL will never really deliver its promises nearly as well as ORV could. Not because ORV is deep and has """themes""" or fucked up shit like that. The 'WHOAH COOL's are just better. Because ORV knows why stories are good and what makes a good story.

Anyway I'm fucking begging you I have tears in my eyes this is why your fic needs more than the hot ship of the day I promise it won't detract from the ship it will make the ship BETTER but you have to get WHY you like these homosexuals so much and it's NOT just because they're CUTE sometimes there's OTHER REASONS THAT ARE IMPORTANT LIKE THE WOMAN YOU'VE BOOTED AND -

#you're killing me smalls #my writing #orv #omniscient reader's viewpoint #solo leveling #solo leveling is good at what it does bc i've read 120 chapters of it #but it's not great because i don't actually care #man really early on the MC had PTSD and I felt like we were doing something with that #and why he was so desperate to grow stronger and i felt like that was a good character motivation for the #hashtag grindset #we like characters for other reasons than projection. i prommy. prommy i swear #the funny thing is that literlaly everybody who reads all 1 million words of orv #are a kim dokja kinnie and you do have to project insanely #because the story self-selects for kdj kinnies #if you weren't insane in the exact same way kdj was insane #you wouldn't have fucking finished orv now would you

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enhaheeseung · 1 year

Text

𝐂𝐮𝐛𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡 - 𝐋. 𝐇𝐞𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠

💻PAIRING: Heeseung X fem reader!

⌨️ WARNINGS: smut, angst, alcohol consumption, analingus, oral fem receiving, slight breeding kink, unprotected sex, age gap, public sex, anal fingering. dirty talk, cursing. heeseung says fuck a lot, lol reader and heeseung are both dumb asf

🖱️GENRE: coworkers, best friends, comedy, romance, drama.

🖥️SUMMARY: in which a series of multiple unnecessary events take place for you to confess your feelings or not?

WC: 8k+

Masterlist

NOTE: hi, everybody i”m back with my new fic “cubical crush” i hope you all will enjoy it, even though the plot is intentionally silly, and it”s different from what i usually write. anyways, it is heavily inspired by @heerated thigh riding fic for kinktober. as soon as i read it i got the idea for this. that being said, i hope you all like it. happy reading!

“Congratulations, ms, y/n,” your best friend and co-worker stopped by your workspace holding a celebratory bottle of wine in his hand.

“Thank you,” you gave him a smile.

“You’re more than welcome” he set the bottle down on your desk. He leaned against the wall loosening the tie around his neck and folding his arms. “Can’t believe you got promoted before I did.”

You giggle slightly. “Me neither. I always thought you’d be first.”

“Oh, come on, y/n, don’t be so humble all the time. We both know you would get it before I did. You’re practically perfect, and I’m not,” he pouted.

“Don’t be sad. I’m sure your time is coming soon,” you assured him with a slight smile on the corner of your lips.

“I hope you’re right. I’m so proud of you. you’ve worked so hard for this, and it finally paid off,” he sighs and stares at you with a fond look in his eyes.

“Thank you,” you said, shying away from his gaze. Not exactly used to having a somewhat serious, heartfelt interaction with him most of the time. It was just meaningless bickering back and forth about the most random things.

“You’re growing up right before my eyes” he wiped a fake tear from the corner of his eye.

So much for heartfelt, but this is the seung you were used to, so it didn’t bother you.

“Oh, stop it. So are you you were just a baby when we started working together.”

“I wasn’t a baby,” he corrected his once lazy posture against the wall and stood straight with a stern look on his face.

“Yes, you were. You remember you were so nervous that you stuttered while introducing yourself to everyone, and then you started blushing. I remember it like yesterday. You were so cute.”

“Oh my god, I can’t believe you still remember that, and for the record, I wasn’t cute. I was handsome.”

“No, you were cute, now you’re handsome” the words just kinda slipped out by accident, and of course, he wasn’t just going to ignore it.

He cocked his eyebrow, looking at you with a smirk playing on his lips.

“Really now?”

“You know what I meant,” you glared at him.

He chuckled. “I’m just teasing, but that’s good to know cause I think you’re beautiful.”

This was already headed in a direction that it shouldn’t have. You knew he’d been attracted to you since you became friends, and his flirty nature only blossomed as he got older and spent more time with you. You and him had lunch every day. Sometimes, After work, you’d have dinner together and even give him rides home. All throughout that time, he never missed a single opportunity to let you know how he felt about you romantically and sexually.

All your colleagues thought you were dating, and even though you denied it multiple times, they still teased you cause they thought you were being professional by keeping your relationship hidden.

But that wasn’t the case. You and heeseung were just good friends, really good friends, and nothing more.

“Umm, so, would you like some wine?” You dismissed his comment entirely.

“Sure! why not?” He pulled his chair from his cubical and took a seat next to you.

“Hope you’re fine with coffee mugs,” you chuckled.

“Oh, did you really think I’d buy wine without glasses?” He rolled his chair back and grabbed a paper bag from his work desk. “Ta-dah!” He laughed slightly, setting them on your desk.

“So you prepared for this? What if I didn’t invite you for a drink?”

“Then I’d just have two wine glasses for no reason,” he stated the obvious in an unamused tone, resting his cheek in his palm, and of course, he had to add his signature eye roll.

“Smart ass,” you pushed his shoulder before filling both wine glasses.

“Flat ass,” he replied a little too quickly for your liking and took a sip from his glass.

“If it’s so flat, what are you always staring at?” you reply cockily and take a drink from your own glass.

He nearly choked on his wine, wiping the residue from his chin. He couldn’t even deny it, either. He loved staring at your plump ass when you wore the tightest of skirts to the office. He can’t count how many times he had to control himself from getting a hard-on, and today was no different when you showed up to your promotion party looking like you owned the whole building.

He gulped the rest of the wine from his cup before refilling it again, giving him time to regain his composure.

After he calmed down a bit, he proposed a toast to your achievement. “To you” he held his glass, clanking it with yours.

“You’re so lame” you rolled your eyes at him and clanked your glass with his.

“So lame that you’ve been friends with me since I was 18, begged me to get a job with you. You have lunch with me every single day. You give me rides and even sometimes ask me to come over to your place instead to have dinner with you, and not to mention you invite me over every Saturday for movi-”

You were going to put your hand over his mouth to silence him, but since he had his cup to his lips, you opted for his neck instead.

Bad idea.

Before you could come in contact with his neck, he gripped your wrist and said something that honestly didn’t even surprise you anymore. “Ooh, Kinky, I like it,” he smirked at you.

“I hate you.”

“That’s a funny way to say you love me, y/n. I love you too,” he let go of your wrist and pinched your cheek.

You pushed his hand away from your face and glared at him. “And Just cause you’re lame doesn’t mean I don’t like spending time with you, idiot.”

“Hop off my dick, would you?”

“What dick?” You chuckled.

“The one that could be balls deep inside you if you’d stop playing hard to get,” he retorted.

Now it was your turn to choke on your wine.

Some of the liquid trickled down your chin, and he didn’t miss the opportunity to swipe it away with his thumb, using the chance to tilt your face towards him and lean in closer to you.

You quickly shook your head and focused on anything else but him. “This wine is delicious. Where did you get it from?” As you were pouring another glass, he gripped your wrist, stopping you from doing so.

“Come on, y/n, how much longer are you going to keep this up?”

“Keep what up?” You reply, pretending not to know what he’s talking about.

“This act” he ran his fingers through his hair and released a sigh of frustration.

“You’re confusing me, seungie.”

“Stop acting like you don’t know that I want you. I mean, I made it obvious since the first day we met, and all you ever do is brush me off like I’m not even here.”

You hated that out of all times. He had to bring this up now. You just wanted to celebrate your promotion, but somehow you found yourself discussing the topic you tried your hardest to avoid for years. “Look, I know, and I’ve been trying to keep the relationship between us as just friends.”

“But why? After all these years, you don’t feel even the slightest bit attracted to me?”

“Being attracted to someone doesn’t mean liking them, Seung” you had already downed two more glasses of wine almost unknowingly.

“Well, you don’t like me even just a little?” He just kept prying. You hated how hard-headed he was all the time. In some cases, it was an admirable trait, but right now was not one of them.

“Of course I do. You’re like my little brother,” you flat-out lied to end the discussion, but he wasn’t buying it for two seconds. Not to say you thought he would, but it was still worth a shot.

“I already know that’s bullshit. You never treat me like a brother,” he scoffs.

“I don’t treat you like a boyfriend either,” you reply, feeling like you had a point, but apparently, that is not how he saw it.

He was fed up at this point, and maybe the wine had gotten to him just a tiny bit. “Fuck it” he spun your chair around and quickly pressed his lips against yours.

You absolutely melted into the kiss and immediately wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him impossibly close. He was shocked to see that you actually reciprocated his advances, but he wasn’t complaining, only focusing on the way your lips felt on his the kiss was everything he thought it’d be and more.

You’d never say it out loud to anyone, but you’ve wanted him for so long there was only one problem.

He was just so out of your league, far more successful than you were at his age, a whole ten years younger than you, and honestly, the idea of being more than friends with him intimidated you.

He pulled away from the kiss reluctantly and rested his forehead against yours. “So much for me being your little brother,” he breathes against your lips.

“Shut up” you cupped his face in your hands, bringing him even closer and ultimately giving in to your desires.

“Yes, Ma’am” he connected his lips to yours once again and began kneading your thighs with his large veiny hands. He deepened the kiss and slipped his hand up your skirt rubbing you through the thin material of your underwear.

“Heeseung,” you gasp, feeling your body flush with heat at the contact of his hands between your legs.

He smiled against your lips when you tangled your hands in his hair, tugging at the roots softly.

Before things got too heated, you leaned back to take a breather. “What if we get caught?”

“We’re like the only ones still here. Everyone left after the celebration” he kissed your jaw and down to your neck, sucking on the supple skin.

You lost yourself in the feeling of his mouth sucking and licking all over your skin. You let your head fall back to give him better access to your sweet spot and moaned loudly when he nipped at the flesh.

You used every last ounce of your strength to pull away from him cause, at the back of your mind. You couldn’t help but feel worried about getting caught. “But what if?”

He groaned agitatedly, but he knew it was better to be safe than sorry he knew how important work was to you, and if you got fired, cause of him, he’d never forgive himself for it. “You’re right. There’s a storage room right around the corner. Come on” he took your hand in his gently and led you to the dark space making sure to lock the door behind him. “There, that way, we for sure won’t get caught.” he smiled softly and made his way over to you.

“Seung, I’m not so sure about this,” you chewed on your lip nervously.

“It’s okay, sweetheart, don’t worry about it. If at any point you want me to stop, just let me know, okay?”

He held your face in his hands, waiting for your reply. “Okay,” you nodded your head.

“Okay,” he whispered reassuringly and backed you up against a desk in the dimly lit room, attaching his lips to yours and kissing you feverishly. He lifted your skirt up, gripping your ass tightly, causing you to moan into the kiss. He immediately stuck his tongue inside your mouth, tangling it with yours.

He pushed his body as close to you as possible, grinding his bulge against your core. You gasped when you felt how big he was. he hummed in delight as he trailed kisses down your jawline. “I just couldn’t seem to keep my eyes off you today. I love it so much when you wear skirts,” he confessed while placing kisses all over your exposed neck.

“Really? I guess I’ll have to wear them more often.”

“You’d do that just for me?” He raised a brow that you couldn’t see cause his face was tilted to the side as he swiped the tip of his tongue over the shell of your ear.

“Anything for you” you palmed his erection through his slacks, with your lip caught between your teeth.

“Is that so?” He released an unstable breath at the feeling of your hand teasing his hard length.

“Yes, anything,” you moaned breathlessly as he nibbled on your earlobe.

“Then turn around and bend over for me” his slightly assertive tone made you do exactly as he said, bending over the desk and arching your back as far as you could for him.

He ran his palms all along your backside, massaging his favorite part of your body. He got down on his knees, easily leveling his face with your ass as he bunched your skirt further up around your waist and yanked your panties down in one swift motion.

You whimper from the cool air hitting your bare pussy. “So, so wet,” he licked the glob of wetness dripping from your pretty pink hole. Moaning at the taste of your arousal coating his tongue, you tasted even better than he could have ever dreamed of.

“Fuck” you dropped your head on the desk in front of you while he lapped up all your juices. You just knew he would be good at this, but not this good. He exceeded all your expectations by far, and he was only just getting started.

He gulped loudly while swallowing his saliva mixed with your essence. “Taste so fucking good, doll. I could eat your pussy all day” needless to say, he was already rock solid in his slacks, but he couldn’t be bothered with that right now, his hands were already preoccupied with your plump ass cheeks, and all he wanted was to eat you out for hours. “And you smell so amazing” he inhaled deeply before diving back in, sucking on your pussy lips, and it was like he was making an effort to make the most filthiest sounds behind you, slurping and sucking loudly while he ate you out like there was no tomorrow.

He stuck two of his long thick fingers inside you, stretching you out just right for him. “You’re really tight. Just relax, doll” you listened to his words as you took a deep breath before giving yourself to him fully and relaxing under his touch. It’s been quite a while since you’ve been intimate with someone, but he was able to make you comfortable as he easily guided you through all of his ministrations and reassured you with his delicate voice over and over again.

His cock was leaking so much precum and he could have sworn he’s never been this turned on before. You barely even touched him, but there was just something about you that could make him painfully hard without even doing anything.

As he trailed his tongue through your wet folds, the path led him to where he so badly needed to be, and before he could think twice about it, he was already flattening his tongue against your perineum.

You had no idea how just his tongue alone was making you feel so good your eyes were rolling back in your head, and your legs were already quivering from the intense pleasure. “That feels so good,” you cried out, gripping the desk tightly. The feeling of his warm wet tongue on one of the most sensitive parts of your body had you short-circuiting.

“You like that?” He moaned against your skin as he humped the air trying to seek any type of relief for his throbbing cock, which was no use. Only you could give him what he needed.

“Y-yes,” you stuttered out.

His eyes fluttered open only to be met with your twitching rim, and he didn’t even try to resist the strong urge to lick a stripe between your ass cheeks, making you yelp in pleasure. No one has ever done anything like that before. It felt so foreign but so amazing at the same time.

You never wanted him to stop, and it’s like he could read your mind as he circled your rim with the tip of his tongue teasingly.

“Mmm, so good,” his voice tickled your skin as he spread you open with the palm of his hand, creating even more space to lick you up and down.

He messily licked from your wet hole to your quivering rim, speeding up the movement of his fingers inside you while stimulating you with his tongue.

Each time his digits went in and out of you, they were coated in a thick creamy layer of your arousal. He couldn’t believe he was the one making you this wet, but it only motivated him to continue on until your juices were running down your thighs.

He was almost positive he was enjoying this more than you. His dick was so hard, and it only got harder as he stuck his tongue out and inserted it in your tight hole.

The feeling of his fingers in your pussy and his tongue inside your ass at the same time felt so unreal. “Seung s-so good,” you whimpered helplessly, relying on the desk to hold all your weight as you felt your legs beginning to give out when his saliva-coated tongue went deeper in your hole.

He rested his hand on your lower back, bringing your body impossibly close to his face. He spat on your puckered rim that winked in anticipation as he smeared his saliva between your cheeks with his pouty lips kissing your tight hole softly before sticking his tongue back inside of you.

You couldn’t help but reach your hand behind you and push his face forward as if he wasn’t already close enough. You could feel his hot, heavy breath against your wet skin, and that only heightened the intensity of the pleasure he was giving to you.

He made a sound mixed between a laugh and a breathy moan. His face was literally pressed against your ass as he did his best to work with what little space you left for him. He wouldn’t have stopped, but he needed to breathe, so finally, he pulled away, leaving your holes clenching and needy for him.

At this point, he was just too worked up, and he needed you now more than anything in the world. He pulled his fingers out of you gently, licking them clean before he stood up, ignoring the ache in his knees as he hastily lowered his slacks and underwear. “You ready for me, doll?”

“Yes, please hurry, Seung” he smacked your ass and jiggled it with his palm as the sound bounced off the walls. You yelped in pleasure from the burning yet pleasurable sting.

He rubbed his oozing tip on your soaking folds, gathering your wetness so he could push in with ease.

“Shit, I’ve been wanting this for so long, Ever since we met” his heart was racing in anticipation mixed with something else he couldn’t quite pinpoint, and he was sure he’s never wanted anything more than this, not even a promotion and he really wanted a promotion, so that was saying a lot.

He pushed in the tip only, easing himself back and forth slowly. “Oh god,” you whimpered.

“Fuck, I could cum just from this,” he admits while gripping your waist tightly to bring you closer to his body. He leans down and presses a kiss to your cheek before pushing in all the way, sliding his thick cock in your cunt. “Fuck, princess, you feel so amazing,” he moaned loudly, not holding back his sounds of pleasure one bit. He wanted you to know the effect you had on him.

“Y-you can move now” you were already so impatient. You just needed him now.

He wasted no more time talking and thrusted in you slow yet so deep at the same time.

He set his pace nice and steady until you adjusted to his size, which didn’t take long, given the fact that you were already so wet and needy to be filled up with his cock.

“Faster Seung, please. I need you” you dug your nails into the desk.

“Anything you want, precious” a moan escaped his lips as he sped up his thrusts, hips slapping against your ass with each one. He gathered a ball of saliva and spat it into his hand, using the slimy substance to lubricate your obscenely tight rim. After he spread it all over your hole, he stuck his thumb inside you, filling up both of your holes perfectly.

“Ah Seung,” you gasp out from the unfamiliar sensation.

“You like that, don't you? You like having me deep in both your pretty little holes?” He matched the rhythm of his thumb with his strokes steadily moving in and out of you at the perfect pace. “Say it,” he grunted.

“Yes- fuck seungie, it feels really good, so full” he was hitting all the right spots inside you. Somehow everything he did felt heavenly, and the pleasure only increased with each and every one of his skillful movements.

There was no way to describe how good he was feeling. He was lightheaded as his tip kissed your sweet spot repeatedly. He watched his cock stretch you out to the fullest your pussy lips looked so perfect as they stretched far and wide to accommodate his big cock. “You’re taking me so well, my princess.”

He could feel how tightly you clenched around his thumb and cock, letting him know you were getting close, and so was he. “Doll, I’m so close,” he warned you, followed by a shaky breath, and you felt his dick twitching inside you.

You were not far behind either as you reached your hand down to rub your clit in fast circles, making you clench down even tighter on his dick. “Seung, I’m cumming!” You rubbed your clit into overstimulation while he continued to fuck you from behind.

“Me too, princess, I’m gonna breed this perfect little pussy” just as the words left his mouth, you felt him releasing his load deep inside your convulsing hole. “Fuck, y/n,” he panted as his hips began to falter, and you could feel the strong pulsating of his cock as he was cumming.

You huffed out heavy breaths while you came down from your orgasm. He moved your hair from your face leaning down to capture your lips as he rutted his hips into you, riding out your highs together. He tangled his tongue with yours, getting lost in the heat of your mouth and pussy.

He finally stilled his movements hissing in over-sensitivity when he removed his heavy length from your hole, watching as his warm cum spilled out of you and onto the floor. “Fuck” he swallowed thickly before giving your ass a light spank. “Come here, doll” he sat in the desk chair, lifting you on his lap and setting you right on top of his dick “so far, so good?” He tapped your waist with his index finger making sure you were okay to continue.

You nodded weakly, too drained to respond.

“Let me do all the work. I’m gonna make you feel so good. I promise” he kissed your temple and lifted you up slightly while you wrapped your arms around his neck. After aligning his dick with your used hole, he lowered you on his length, bouncing you up and down on his cock slowly. “Yes, that’s it” he sighed in pleasure and tipped his head back slightly to take in the view in front of him with hooded eyes.

“Seungie,” you whined while looking into his eyes and biting on your bottom lip.

“Shh, doll, I know” he rested his forehead against yours, bouncing you on his cock harder, creating loud slapping noises as your sweaty bodies collided with one another.

“Is someone there?” You both jumped at a voice outside. It must have been one of the janitors coming in for their night shift.

“It’s okay” he slowed down and rubbed your back to comfort you. “just keep your voice down. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes,” you whispered and nodded your head.

“Yeah?” he smiled and pressed his lips to yours briefly before picking up the pace and bucking his hips up into you. “That’s my girl” he secured you tightly with his left arm holding you close while his right hand traveled down to your clit, rubbing you there softly.

You moaned quietly and collapsed onto his shoulder while his tip hit your spot perfectly.

Every stroke of his cock felt better than the last, and it was only a matter of time before you came yet again. “It feels so good” you buried your face in his neck, sucking and licking every inch you could reach.

He chuckled softly from the tickling sensation on his neck. “I know, baby. You feel so good.”

“I’m close, Seung.” you panted in his ear.

“Yeah?” He breathed out, feeling himself already losing his strength from going so hard on the previous round.

“Yes, so close” You used every last bit of energy to ride him at a pace that had you both cumming in mere seconds.

“Oh fuck” he whined in your ear lowly as his legs started to shake. “y/n, please, please, don’t fucking stop,” he whispered, feeling his second orgasm approaching rapidly as sweat beads trickle down his forehead.

His pleas for you to keep going only fueled you to give him your all as you clung tighter onto his shoulders for support to fuck him faster and deeper.

“Oh my fucking god,” his eyes nearly rolled back in his head as he looked between your bodies, watching the way your pussy sucked his cock in. His abdomen was covered in your slick and cum, which only turned him on ten times more. He loved it wet and messy. “You’re riding me so well,” he rubbed your clit just a little longer until the knot inside your stomach unraveled. “cum for my doll.”

“Fuck!” You yelped as your legs shook uncontrollably. So much for keeping quiet, but you were sure whoever was outside the door had left long ago.

You were clenching around his cock for the second time tonight. The convulsions of your cunt triggered his orgasm, and you felt his cock get even harder just seconds before he pumped his seed into you. His length throbbed with every squirt of warm cum he released inside you. “Y/n,” he groaned while tightening the grip on your hips.

You continued to clench around his girthy cock in your post-orgasmic state, persuading him to empty every last ounce of his hot cum until he filled you up to the brim.

“Seung,” you mewled from the over-sensitivity gripping the collar of his dress shirt as you tiredly rested your forehead on his shoulder.

“I got you, I got you” he held you close to his chest and pecked your forehead, calming you down from your intense high.

You could feel his heart beating rapidly against your chest, matching the rhythm of your own.

You both stayed in that position for a good while, trying to regain control of your breathing and energy. He stroked your head softly as his body still trembled under you slightly. “That was so much better than I could have ever imagined” he kissed your cheek softly.

“It really was” you drew random patterns on his chest and played with his tie, which he thought was so adorable.

He held you even closer to his body, resting his head on your shoulder with his dick still inside you. “Wanna get cleaned up now?” He asked in the most delicate voice you’ve ever heard from him.

You shook your head no. Being pressed against his wide chest and full of his cock was just too comforting for you to want to move. “You’re so warm” you nuzzled your face in his neck.

He let out an airy chuckle placing a kiss on your head, not caring about the fact that his pants were down around his ankles. “Whose the older one here?” He teased you. You were literally acting like a baby, which made his heart swell. You were just too cute.

“Seung,” you whined.

He could only laugh at you, too tired to tease you any longer.

````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````

“Hey, doll,” heeseung whispered behind you, massaging your shoulders.

“Hi,” you reply with no enthusiasm whatsoever.

He moved your hair to the side, placing a gentle kiss on your neck.

You moved away from his touch, leaving him slightly puzzled for a second, but it soon clicked. “It’s okay. No one is even paying attention” Nevertheless, he still leaned back to give you some space. “Since we both enjoyed last night so much, I was thinking we could go on a date later, and you could spend the night at my place after,” he continued rubbing your shoulders, which felt amazing, by the way, but you weren’t going to let him know that.

“Not tonight,” you say, annoyed.

“Okay…. Maybe tomorrow?”

“Busy,” you type away on your computer, eyes never leaving the screen.

“This weekend, when we’re not so busy with work,” he suggested.

“Heeseung, please, not right now. You’re bothering me, okay?”

He finally removed his hands away from your shoulders. He knew how serious you could be when it came to working, but he still couldn’t help feeling dejected, especially after being so excited to see you today. “Okay,” he mumbled, going to his cubicle next to yours.

After he left, you sighed and rubbed your temples in frustration. Only an hour went by before you needed a coffee break.

“Feeling better?” Heeseung came up, standing way too close behind you.

You jumped slightly and spilled some of your coffee. “Heeseung, what’s your problem?” You snapped at him for no reason other than the fact you were upset with yourself because of last night.

“Sorry, y/n, It was an accident. I’ll clean it up, don’t worry” he grabbed a few napkins wiping the small mess that you made a big deal out of. “See? All better” he turned you around to face him trapping you by resting his arms on the counter behind you.

“All better,” you repeated, feeling shy from the proximity between you both. He leaned in for a kiss, but you turned your head in the opposite direction.

He lowered his head and clenched his jaw. “Y/n, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you reply quickly.

“If it’s nothing, then why have you been acting weird towards me all morning?”

You tapped the coffee mug in your hand, opting to use silence for an answer instead.

“Talk to me, love,” he spoke softly while cupping your cheeks and focusing on your eyes.

You removed his hands from your face and turned away from him.

“I just don’t get it. Everything was good last night when You took me home, and now you’re acting like you don’t even know me.”

“Seung, just leave it, okay? That was a one-time thing, and it was a mistake,” you reply agitatedly.

He looked at you, taken aback by your choice of words.

“Wow, this is the thanks I get after I completely devoured your ass,” He joked, trying to lighten the mood a little, but that didn't work.

“I’m serious. That will never happen again, so just forget it.”

He scoffed at your words. “So, what are you saying?

“That last night was a mistake, and it shouldn’t have ever happened, so just forget about it.”

“You can’t fucking be serious right now. How the fuck do you expect me to do that? You know I liked you since way back then, and I finally get a chance with you or what I thought was a chance, and now you just want to forget?”

“Seung, stop. We’re at work,” you said, simply ignoring him and his feelings.

“I don’t fucking care where the fuck we are” He stood up straight and locked eyes with you. “Look me in the eyes and tell me you didn’t feel anything when you were with me last night. Tell me it meant nothing to you.”

“I didn’t. It meant nothing to me” you held eye contact with him, trying your best not to crack under the pressure of his gaze.

He instantly looked away from your eyes to conceal the hurt expression that immediately took over his features as those words left your mouth. “But, y/n, I’m in lov-“

“Stop,” you cut him off before he could even finish.

You could have sworn you saw him tearing up a bit, and you felt so horrible. “Okay, fine, I’ll just forget about it then like it never even happened.” He poked his inner cheek with his tongue, grabbed the dirty tissues off the counter, and threw them in the trash bin on his way out of the break room.

You released a breath you didn’t know you were holding, finally letting the reality of what just took place sink in.

But it was better this way. You just weren’t right for him. He deserved someone better, younger, and prettier than you, someone, who had a life outside of work, someone who could give him what you couldn’t.

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Unfortunately, The rest of the day, he didn’t look your way, he didn’t call you to take lunch together, he didn’t stay and work overtime with you, absolutely nothing.

You sighed, watching him shut off his desk lamp and pack up his belongings.

He didn’t even say bye.

As much as it hurt to be ignored by him, this was for the better.

He’d get over you sooner than later.

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Or maybe not.

The next few weeks were the same. The only time you talked was in a meeting, and even then, he still didn’t look at you.

You couldn’t help but think that he hated you and that your friendship was now in jeopardy.

You know what you did was shitty, but it wasn’t easy to just tell him you didn’t feel good enough, not only for him but for everything you did in life.

You graduated later than most people. It took you longer to grasp certain aspects of work, and while everyone, including him, was excelling, you always seemed to fall short.

That wasn’t the only thing either. Your parents consistently compared you and your siblings all the time. It felt like a race between who could graduate faster and who could have the highest-paying job. Unfortunately, you took all of that to heart. Ever since then, you felt like you’d never be enough, and you allowed yourself to drown in self-doubt.

Leaving you to become who you are today, a single workaholic hopeless romantic.

Now on the other side of the spectrum. heeseung didn’t hate you, not one bit. He knew you had your reasons cause the y/n he knew would have never done what you did. But that still didn’t make it hurt any less.

He was finding it rather difficult to act the same around you, especially when his thoughts were a complete raging mess one night you were having sex with him. And the morning after, you’re telling him it was a mistake, so he did what he thought was best and gave you space. He didn’t realize that he was actually ignoring you in the process, though.

He missed having lunch with you. He missed seeing you roll your chair back and peeking at him from behind your cubicle to tease him. He missed you driving him home and getting dinner after you both worked overtime together.

But he figured he might as well just see it as a thing of the past, and apparently, so was your guy’s friendship. It had been weeks since you last talked to him, let alone looked his way, and he couldn’t help but blame himself for the way things were going between the two of you. “Four years down the drain just like that if I had just set my feelings aside” he leaned against the break room counter with his coffee in hand, pinching the bridge of his nose, trying to think of a way to fix your guys friendship until he heard an unknown voice.

“Hi, sorry to disturb you, but I’ll be training here for a short period of time, and I wanted to introduce myself to everyone.”

“Oh! Hi, and it’s quite alright. You’re not disturbing me one bit” he extended his hand to shake hers. “Lee heeseung, and you are?”

She took his hand and shook it gently with a shy smile. “Yoo ji min”

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, and it’s nice to see new faces every once in a while,” he smiled brightly.

You just had to come into the break room at the absolute worst time. You saw heeseung and the new trainee chatting away, and you couldn’t help but feel jealous at their interaction. “Hello,” you greeted them awkwardly.

Heeseung looked at you with puppy eyes muttering the tiniest little. “Hi,” it was so low you didn’t even hear it.

She gave you a small nod before proceeding with her conversation with heeseung. “So, maybe you could show me what you do sometime?”

You almost puked from her honey voice and the way she was sweet talking to him. “Sure! I could give you a couple of tips too. It’s never easy the first day. If you need anything, I’ll be on the 22nd floor, or just call my extension,” he chuckled lightly.

“I learn faster hands-on. I don’t mind taking a trip all the way up here just to see you,” she winked.

Now she was just being obvious, and heeseung knew it. He had noticed it ever since she first got there. It’s like she literally couldn’t take her eyes off of him. Her fake high-pitched voice almost gave him a headache, but he was just trying to do his job and be nice. “Yeah, umm, see you around” her direct flirting was making him more than a tad bit uncomfortable, so he got out of dodge sooner than later.

Thank god you didn’t have to listen to that any longer. One minute was more than enough.

When she introduced herself to you, it was literally hi and bye, but with heeseung, she had to use her fake voice and make unnecessary small talk with him. She was already getting on your last nerve, and it was only her first day.

That’s my man, you thought to yourself.

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Holy fuck were you about to go insane from her constant fake giggling every two seconds. She just had to bring her ugly (pretty) ass all the way to the 22nd floor just so she could pretend like she needed heeseung’s help with something.

And it didn’t help that he was laughing back, loudly too, like he was just having the time of his life. Which he probably was. How could he not when there was a girl his age, talented and beautiful, practically drooling all over him?

Little did you know his laugh was as real as hers, but he was attempting to make you jealous in hopes that maybe it would get you to talk to him again.

“Just whatever.” You mumbled and focused back on your work.

````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````

Today was the same. She was all up inside his cubical like it was hers, just laughing and chatting away.

After another hour of them laughing and talking AND going on lunch together, you couldn’t take anymore.

You were so close to just walking the fuck out.

But since you’ve worked here, you always stayed one hour over so you couldn’t leave and muddy up your perfect record, especially after just being promoted not too long ago. “Heeseung, our shift is over. We should go get drinks and celebrate my last day here.”

Heeseung rubbed his nape. He wasn’t used to going home until you did, so the fact that his shift was up came as a surprise to him. “Umm, well, I usually stay an hour later,” he explained.

He was not trying to have it go this far. He was just using her to try to make you jealous (which was failing miserably, by the way, or so he thought). If he was being honest, she was annoying as hell and fake as fuck. Her perfume gave him a headache. It reminded him of his college days. Every girl he crossed paths with wore that same cheap-smelling perfume except you. Well, you might of, but when you were in college, he was just a wee baby, but the first day you met, he remembers the perfume you wore. It was one of the many things that attracted him to you in the first place. It smelled so sophisticated and professional, not like some young teenager begging for his attention. It made you stand out, and since that day, that has been his favorite smell.

He even went as far as to buy it from the mall on your birthday so he could smell it on you every day. He remembered the hug you gave him after opening it.

He missed your smell, your laugh, your smile, everything. He missed you, and it’s barely even been two months.

He only realized that he was spaced out when her nasty voice snapped him out of his precious thoughts about you.

“Heeseung?” She tapped his back to gain his attention.

He flinched from her unwelcome touch. “Huh?” He replied and shook his head slightly.

“Come on, just a few drinks” she tried to put her hand on his shoulder, but he leaned away from it, pretending he was turning his computer off.

“Uhh…”

“A few drinks aren’t gonna kill you” she rolled her eyes in annoyance when she saw him glancing over at your cubicle. It was obvious to anyone that heeseung liked you, and it didn’t take her long to catch on to that either. She couldn’t understand why he’d even bother looking your way when someone like her was present, and that did more than just trigger her inferiority complex.

“Okay, a few drinks won’t hurt. Just give me five more minutes, and I’ll meet you downstairs.”

That was it. You couldn’t take it anymore fuck staying an hour later. You couldn’t hear their conversation but just the thought of her being so close to him made you feel sick.

“See you then,” she whispered in his ear, sending a chill down his spine and not the good kind, not like the chills you gave to him.

Heeseung noticed you packing up earlier than usual, and he couldn’t help but say something. “You’re going home already. It’s barely past nine. You always stay late.”

“Not tonight,” you angrily shoved your stuff in your bag and headed out.

“Y/n, wait!” He gripped your wrist gently. “Are you feeling alright?”

“I’m fine,” you fake smiled at him before freeing yourself from his grip.

“Are you sure? This isn’t like you, so, I’m just kinda worried.” he rubbed his nape.

“Don’t you have someone downstairs to worry about?”

“W-what? No, Y/n!” Before he could even explain, you had already stormed off to the elevator, mashing on the buttons.

“Fuck!” you wiped the tears that formed in your eyes as the elevator took you to the first floor.

He ran downstairs as quickly as possible, trying to catch up to you, but it was no use. By the time he got down, you were far out of sight. He took a few seconds to catch his breath.

“There you are. I was waiting forever” she clung onto his arm, dragging him near the exit.

“Hey, uhh, about tonight, I’m sorry, but I’m gonna pass.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Is it cause that bitch that works next to you? I see you staring at her all the time. Even when I’m talking to you, you still only look at her!”

At this point, he wasn’t even surprised she’d say such things about you. Her attitude was off from the start anyways.

“Watch your fucking mouth, and she has a name. It’s y/n. Maybe if you weren’t being so pretentious around me, you might have noticed,” he scoffed.

“So, it is her? Really heeseung you can do so much better” she bit her lip seductively while grabbing his tie, but he quickly snatched it away cause you were the only woman he allowed to touch his tie.

“And where do you suggest I might find that? Cause, as of right now, better is nowhere in sight” he stared down at her with his jaw clenched.

“Let’s be honest here, shall we? Me and you both know she doesn’t even like you. I mean, she makes it obvious” his expression faltered at the truth of her words. “While you’re staring at her, she’s thinking of someone else” she placed her hands on his shoulders, inching dangerously close to his face. “And while you’re staring at her, I’m only thinking of you,” he could feel her warm breath against his skin.

Before she could go any further, he pushed her hands off of him and created a good distance. “Don’t”

“Tch fine, I only wanted you for your looks anyways. We would have made such a great pair. But you’re actually quite boring,” she giggled. “You can continue to waste time on a girl that doesn’t even notice your existence. It’s your loss” she flipped her hair on her way out of the building.

“I’ve never been more happy to lose,” he stated with a smirk and watched her leave with his hands in his pockets.

She turned around and had the nerve to look at him offended. “Asshole,” she put her middle finger in the air before finally leaving the building.

Heeseung thought of a million foul insults he could have thrown back at her, but she wasn’t even worth his breath.

````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````

You woke up with a throbbing headache. You finished off the bottle of wine heeseung bought for you last night in an attempt to numb the pain in your heart. Still, every glass you poured just reminded you of that night, the night you wish you could go back in time and erase, not cause you didn’t enjoy it, you loved every second of it as a matter of fact, but if that night never happened you and heeseung would still be friends.

You groaned and did your normal routine, adding in a few painkillers with your breakfast.

At least you still looked somewhat presentable, but you already knew today was going to be a long one.

Your stomach churned at the idea of seeing him face to face after last night, but this was the only way to get over him and everything that’s happened.

You knew this was your fault, and you also knew that he would get over you, but it still hurt like hell to lose him.

````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````

Somehow you were the last to be informed that the new girl had already completed her training and was transferred to a new building which didn’t bother you one bit. That news made your day just a little better.

You plopped down on your seat, yawning loudly while switching on your lamp and turning on your computer.

Heeseung was already behind you with a hot cup of coffee, setting it on your desk without any words.

He went to his cubical, cracked his knuckles rolled up his sleeves, and got right down to business as usual now that the bitch or new girl was finally gone, he couldn’t have been happier.

Now there would be nothing getting in the way of him mending your friendship, or so he thought.

It was your lunchtime, and heeseung was going to try and work his way back into your life slowly and, this time, leave out all the flirting and off-color comments that would make you uncomfortable if you didn’t want him like that. Then he was going to learn to accept it for the sake of a solid four-year relationship. His feelings weren’t more important than your guy’s friendship, and he knew that. “Hey y-” before he could finish, he got cut off by none other than sim jaeyun. He worked on the opposite end of the floor, and heeseung always caught him taking glances at you but never said anything to you about nor did you ever even notice him.

“Hey, y/n, I know it’s been some time, but congratulations on your promotion” the tips of his ears were burning bright red.

“Thank you” you couldn’t hide the fact that you were blushing. He was so cute. How come all the attractive guys are so much younger than me, you wondered.

You felt like a cougar or something.

“You’re w-welcome” his little stutter hit you hard. How is it possible for someone to be so adorable? he reminded you of heeseung on his first day.

Heeseung.

You sighed. After all this time, he’s still all you could think about.

Heeseung listened closely, feeling a very familiar emotion he got whenever you talked to anyone that wasn’t him.

He was jealous.

Jealous that another man was talking to his gir- his friend.

“I uhh was thinking maybe if you’re not too busy, we could have lunch together?”

Please say no, please say no, heeseung prayed.

“Sure, what time?” You responded with a smile.

“Why y/n?” Heeseung mumbled and slumped in his chair, pouting slightly.

But he couldn’t just sit there and do nothing while another man tried to have lunch with you. He was already your designated lunch partner.

“Actually, me and y/n were just about to go together, but you’re more than welcome to join us” heeseung stood up, towering over you and his other co-worker. “Right, y/n?” Heeseung turned his gaze to the younger, giving him a stern look.

“A-actually, I forgot I have a meeting today” the young boy quickly scurried away, feeling scared by heeseung’s intimidating presence. It didn’t take him long at all to get the message that something was going on between the two of you.

“We were?” You look at heeseung, completely confused and even more confused at his behavior today.

First coffee, and now he’s actually speaking to you and asking you on lunch, not to say you were complaining you missed this boy too much to even say no.

“I-if y-you want to” he literally shifted from foot to foot, fiddling with his hands, face completely flushed red.

Cute.

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You had a blast at lunch teasing him like usual his face was on fire because of you for the second time today. “You know you looked just like a baby earlier, and you stuttered like one too.”

“You really enjoy my pain, don’t you?” He glared at you.

He reached his fork over to your plate, taking the last bite of your food as revenge. “Are you fucking kidding me?

“Do I look like I’m fucking kidding you?” he talked with his mouth still full of what would have been your last bite.

“That was the last bite,” you pouted.

“Well, come and get in then” he opened his mouth, showing you the last bits of your salad on his tongue.

“You’re in for it,” you warned.

“Oh? Am I?” He cocked his brow.

“Yes, you need to be punished.” You giggled.

“Have I been a bad boy? Is mommy gonna spank me?” he looked at you with puppy eyes touching his index fingers together, and burst out into laughter seconds later.

You tried to contain your smile but ultimately failed. “You’re so stupid!” you shoved his shoulder, and it felt just like old times. “Seung?” you muttered once the laughter had died down.

“Hmm?” He propped his elbows on the table, intrigued by what you had to say.

“Sorry for everything, you know, not talking to you and all that other stuff” you picked at your nails, looking down at the table in front of you.

“Aww, isn’t that sweet,” he said endearingly. “You fucking suck at apologizing,” he deadpanned.

“Seung, I’m serious. I know I hurt you, and I’m sorry.”

“Hey, don’t get all heartfelt on me now.”

“Really, Seung, I feel bad, and I’m so sorry.”

He simply waved you off. “It’s alright. I’m a big boy. I can take rejection.”

“You didn’t act like it.”

“Fair, but that’s only cause you were avoiding me.” He stated.

“What?! You were the one avoiding me!” you pointed a finger in his face.

“No, I gave you space, and you avoided me” he pointed his finger right back at you.

“Space?! I never said I needed space!” You said, taken aback by what absurdity you were hearing.

“But you avoided me, so I assumed you wanted space, and I gave it to you!” His voice was at least two octaves higher than before as he fought against you.

“You just assumed I wanted space!?” Your tone was now matching with his.

“Yeah! You were acting all menopausal in your old age, so I assumed you wanted space” he shrugged.

You gasped and looked at him wide-eyed. “Excuse me!” You said, flabbergasted before revving up to defend yourself once again.

The rest of lunch was spent bickering about god knows what. But still, You both felt so much better after apologizing and talking things over, so maybe he was out of your league, and maybe he’d never stop loving you, and you’d never stop loving him, but for right now, you were both just happy to be friends again.

The End.

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