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#but o at least was dirty
lakka-arts · 1 year
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me one (1) netflix!geraskier mistagged as gerlion post away from blacklisting the tag all together
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rainbow-arrow · 2 years
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still cannot get over the scene in ephemeral where gabriel overhears his son saying ‘m’lady’ and he fucking somehow determines he’s chat noir based on that. why did we accept that.
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mini-uzzy · 29 days
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generalslime · 2 months
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Instead of buying the edgeworth shirt I was so responsible and bought a laundry basket and dish rack and new phone case please clap
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swagging-back-to · 2 months
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realized why jasmines hospital cage smelled like an entire bucket of piss. bc i used it to clean the dirty wood stuff and plastic is very pourous
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joeloverture · 8 days
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snowbound | dbf!j.m. x f!reader
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masterlist | updates blog | ao3 mirror pairing: dbf!joel miller x f!reader summary: [no outbreak] joel is the only guy you know with four wheel drive in the rarely-snowy state of texas, so it seems like a no-brainer to have him pick you up from work — until his truck breaks down, leaving you two to the classic 'huddle for warmth' solution. warnings: (18+ mdni) dbf!joel, age gap (assumed 20s/40s), reader borrows joel's coat, but does not wear it and uses it as a blanket, self-indulgent humor & banter, joel has sarah and she's a 15y/o menace which means liberties are taken with the timeline, blink & miss it drug mention, close proximity, unprotected piv sex, vaginal fingering, (mocking) dirty talk & dirty talk alluding to anal but no actual anal, daddy kink, degradation, dom!joel, brat!reader, brat tamer!joel, mild bondage (with a scarf), rearview mirror sex, clit stim, riding, doggy, a few pussy spanks, 2 spanks, truck sex, sort of edging, getting caught after the act [no use of y/n] word count: 12.3k a/n: this fic was a labor of love from a request i received earlier this month. i didn't expect it to be this long but i really enjoyed these two! massive massive massive shoutout to talia, @lovesickonmybed, for putting up with me + advising. this fic was way too much to handle on my own. they're the reason i pulled it off. joel is latino here, but i think game!joel can be interpreted as latino too, so read who you'd like.
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“Looking ahead for our chances at wintry precipitation tonight – measurable snow, freezing rain, or sleet. It’s hard to get snow here in central Texas – if only, huh? We’re seeing some strong flurries tonight, turning into snow showers in the early morning. Low chances of any significant build up, but you can expect hazardous driving conditions. Black ice and low visibility will make extensive travel dangerous–”
The radio in Keith’s Hardware is old fashioned, curving around the volume and tuning knobs. It’s one of the ones that still has a dial pointer, which is almost always aimed at 92.7 if Keith’s in the back (country); 96.7 (pop) if it’s just you and the only other girl that works in the carpenter’s wet dream of a store. Right now, though, it’s neither of those stations. The pointer is at 162.4, the weather station.
You’d known you were in for it on the drive into work. Watch the weather and it’s real nasty out there airing from your parents lips on your way out of the house for your eight hour shift. The drive had been a gunmetal sort of gray, clouds streaked through the sky and spitting bullets of sleet at your windshield.
For a little bit, the weather had almost cleared up. You’d sworn you’d seen a splotch of sun when you’d tried to step out for break, just to be driven back in by your too-thin jacket and the cold as balls temperature.
Now, though? It’s fucking freezing, and the flurries that the weatherman mentioned are starting to fall. And as much as you’d told Keith that your shitty two-wheel-drive couldn’t handle it, he’d insisted on scheduling you and Liz for close.
Which is where Mr. Miller comes in.
Joel Miller, your dad’s buddy. Joel Miller, the grumpiest secret-softie you’ve ever met. Joel Miller, a knight in shining armor with his 4x4 Ford F150 instead of a horse. Although, if your fantasies are correct – and you like to think they are – what’s between his thighs certainly makes up for the lack of a horse. But he isn’t bringing you for a ride on his cock. He just so happens to be the only man your dad knows with a four wheel drive vehicle, or at least the only one willing to spare you from spinning out by giving you a ride home. Just thinking about it has a knot pinching in the back of your throat. His hands, big and wide and stretching over the gear shift. One muscled arm dangling over the wheel. Looking over his goddamn shoulder to back out —
Liz hops up on the check-out counter where you’re counting up the last of the cash, a spread of Hamiltons, Grants, and Jacksons. You wouldn’t expect a girl like her to work at a hardware store, especially one in the backstreets of the seedy part of town. Some sort of family emergency had driven her back to Austin from NYU design school, which you’re thankful for. Mainly because you get out of cutting wood panels since she has the better eye for measurements, but also because after years of sulking in Keith’s, you finally have someone to talk shit with.
“Those heart eyes aren’t for fuckin’ Alexander Hamilton,” Liz says, tapping her acrylics on your ledger to get your attention. You cough, flipping her off with your pen still in-hand. Liz hums, pretending to think about it as you put down the last numbers. “Although I wouldn’t be too surprised. You do love a geriatric man.”
“Joel isn’t that old,” you scoff, arranging the bills into slim white envelopes and then licking them shut. “He’s just an… acquired taste.”
“Sure, his jizz probably tastes like prohibition-era booze–”
“What the fuck,” you wheeze, hands going out to brace yourself on the closest display case. Your head dips as your chest shakes with laughter.
Liz stays completely straight-faced as she continues, “You’ll have to have 911 on speed dial because if you clench, his heart’s giving out.”
“It is not,” you say, voice still strained with the laughs that won’t stop punching out of you.
She puts her hands up in defense and crosses her legs at the ankles. “Hey, it’s not my fault you like playing whac-a-mole with Great Depression dick.”
“Liz!” You playfully shove her off of the counter, thrusting the envelopes into her hands. “You’re nasty. Fucking nasty.”
She splays a wounded hand over her heart, fanning herself with the envelopes. “You know you love me.” She slips into the office behind the register. You hear the click of the safe before she calls over her shoulder, “Any particular reason you’re fantasizing on the clock?”
“Not fantasizing,” you refute. Liz pops out of the back with a uncertain look scrawled on her face. “My dad talked him into picking me up today so I don’t drive into a snowbank.”
“Sounds like the beginning of a shitty porno.”
“Don’t give me hope.”
“I’m just saying,” she grins. “You can still come to mine. Only a five minute walk with zero chance of rejection.”
“You have such little faith in me.”
She purses her lips. “Mkay…. Pro-tip: Keith probably has some Viagra sitting around in his desk drawers.”
“Liiiiiiiz,” you say. You’re about to tune her out completely when familiar headlights light up the wet asphalt, beaming through the windows. The engine idles, a soft rumble through the linoleum floors. The truck lights dim, leaving Joel in the buttery shine of the streetlamp. His thick arms stretch across the wheel, and he rakes one large hand through his hair. “Shit, speak of the Devil.” You clip off your nametag, tossing it into your half-open bag. “Can you finish closing tonight? I promise I’ll make it up to you.”
“No problem, no favors necessary.” She closes the register. You fumble to get your bag over your shoulder, not wanting to keep Joel waiting. “Use protection!” she calls after you, and you make sure to flip her off one more time as the door clangs shut behind you.
A wall of cold hits you like a blade of lightning. Wind unfurls, mauling telephone lines and frosted treetops, rippling your jacket. Not even the worn scarf around your neck seems to be doing its job. Suddenly, every one of your limbs feels like an icicle. Joints almost freezing up, you half-jog, half-penguin strut your way to Joel’s passenger side. You wipe the ice off of the door handle with your sleeve. A few stray flurries dust you as you tug the door open, exhaling in relief as you haul yourself onto the side steps and into the toasty warmth of the Ford F150.
You cozy up in the seat, too preoccupied by thawing your hands with long, winded breaths to notice the affronted look Joel is throwing your way. “Are you tryin’ to catch your fuckin’ death, girl?”
“No death to catch. It’s not that cold.” The way you’re shivering says otherwise. Joel pins you with the raise of his brow.
Before you know what he’s doing, he’s groaning as he reaches over the center console into the backseat. You see a flash of his trucker jacket before it lands in your lap, flannel-lined and heavy. You use it like a blanket, draping it across your torso and wrestling your hands into the inside pockets. The canvas smells like car exhaust and off-brand Dollar General deodorant, two things that are so inextricably Joel. As much as you hate to admit it, the warmth is already inking its way across your skin – or maybe it’s just being next to Joel that’s heating you up. “Thanks,” you grumble.
When you adjust in your seat, the inside of your foot catches an empty Dr. Pepper can on the floor. It rattles when you accidentally kick it forward. You lean down and pick it up, going to place it down in the cupholder, only to find it overpopulated with random Home Depot and Whataburger receipts.
“Tax deductions,” he shrugs. “Gotta eat on the job.”
“And a…” You pick up the receipt and squint at the faded typography. “$3.29 strawberry milkshake is part of that, I figure?”
Joel grunts, “Tommy’s order.”
You smirk. “Sure it is.”
“Quit shit stirrin’ and put on your fuckin’ seatbelt.”
You reach back, fingers snagging it and tugging it down. Groping for the belt between the seats and the center console, it goes on for at least five seconds too long before Joel grabs the buckle and shoves it into the slot. His fingers brush your thigh as he pulls away from you and settles his foot over the gas pedal. The singular touch shouldn’t make butterflies beat at the walls of your stomach, but it does. Everything about him does.
Now that you’re all settled in, everything about him is also settling in. The fact that he’s only wearing a tight-fitting white t-shirt now that his coat is off. His sleeves are constricting enough that his muscles bulge below the strip of fabric. Ample scruff dapples his jawline, and his hair is disheveled in the way that you’ve learned you like it. You trail your eyes down his body, his tummy, across the undone drawstrings of his dark gray sweatpants, and no, you move on quickly from there, because you refuse to get riled up in the passenger seat.
He’s slowly peeling out of Keith’s parking lot, arm thrown over the back of your seat. You’re starting to fail at your mission of not getting riled up when you see the flex of his bicep, the way his eyes meet yours as he turns to look through the back window. He turns out of the parking lot and onto the relatively barren, icy streets–
“What the hell are those?”
Joel side-eyes you, brows furrowed. He follows the line of your gaze to his feet, which you’re used to seeing in New Balances or steel-toed work boots, but are instead wearing… fur-lined crocs.
“These here? Yeah, got ‘em recently, good for my days off with all this nippy weather. Sarah told me they’re ‘all the rage’ with the youth–”
You can’t help it. You damn near double over with laughter, clutching at your stomach. Joel’s coat nearly slides off of you, but you hang onto it with your pinkie finger, quickly going dizzy from lack of air. “‘All the rage’? Oh my fucking God– Joel, she was pulling your leg. Those are fucking hideous.”
“Hey, now–” He sighs, pinching his nose bridge with the hand that isn’t dangling over the wheel. “Zip it, I don’t needa justify my shoe choices to ya.”
“Does she do anything other than give you shit these days?”
“You’re one to talk about givin’ shit, y’know,” Joel says. Unfailingly, he smiles. The smile that pulls at the edges of his lips. The smile that he only ever gets when talking about Sarah. It doesn’t matter where – loading up his plate with barbecue, your dad asking him while he’s picking up junk mail in the morning, or on the job. If someone asks him about his daughter, Joel fucking beams.
He sucks on his teeth for a second, and then, “She’s picked up soccer. Goalkeeper. Damn good at it, too, all them other kids on her team can’t match her collapse dive.”
“Of course they can’t,” you say. “She’s got better reflexes than a house fly.”
Joel hunches over the wheel, effectively ending the conversation as he concentrates on the road. The only noise is the rumbling engine and the wagging of the windshield wipers as he attempts to navigate the black ice polka-dotted roads. It shouldn’t be as arousing as it is, seeing him in such a state of focus, his thighs tensed as he manipulates the gas and brakes to stop early, start slow. His arms thickening when he makes a right turn. Thumbs drumming drumming drumming on the wheel and maybe they’d do the same between your legs—
“So how’s work?” you blurt out.
Joel mumbles something that you can’t quite make out.
“Huh?”
“Fuckin’ ‘big shot’ gringos up my ass all day. Goddamn shitshow.” He shakes his head, his lips thinned. “I tell ‘em terraforming is gonna make it look like a Flinstone-owned-and-operated putt-putt course. They say do it anyway. I tell ‘em that orderin’ custom windows is gonna put us months behind. They say do it anyway, then come up jibber-jabberin’ all ‘bout how long it’s takin’. And it’s fuckin’... window madness, not one window in that hellhole matches another. Ain’t had so much trouble buildin’ a house since Sarah had me build her one from Hobby Lobby when she was little. Their architect musta been doin’ lines.”
You think you’ve seen Sarah’s dollhouse before when visiting, just in passing when the guest bedroom door was left open a smidge. You remember stalling in the hallway to look at it, with a fleece of dust growing on the tediously placed shingles and the oakwood front door left open like it’d been waiting for someone to come home. But Sarah outgrew it, and although Joel would never admit it, you know he’s too sentimental to leave it on the curb.
“How bad can building a dollhouse from a kit be?”
“With a five year old yellin’ like a drill sergeant in your ear? Worse than you think. She even made me rig the damn thing with electric so she could have her pink chandelier.”
You pout at him, “Wah wah, I’ll bet you loved it.”
“Was a nuisance at the time. But, uh, she was fiddlin’ with some ‘a the dolls I’d gotten her. Don’t think she knew I was watchin’, had gone to put ‘er to bed ‘cause it was a school night. She was readin’ this book I always read to her. Something about… a stuffed bear with a missin’ button and a girl that was tryna to buy him. I don’t fuckin’ know–” “Corduroy?”
“Yeah, that. Anyway, she was reading, usin’ the same tone I always used with her, tucked her dolls in for the night, and switched off the lights. I don’t think I loved it until then.” There’s a glistening in his eyes at the memory.
You smirk, “Sentimental bastard–”
The truck slides. Or maybe it coasts, skimming across the thin film of black ice. Joel eases down on the brakes, hauling to a stop next to a Minivan with its warning lights on. It’s a long stretch, and you can’t even see all the way down the highway with how thick the snow is. No two snowflakes are the same, but you find it difficult to believe when you’re looking at what must be millions of them. They pirouette, landing on window panes, rooftops, and wind-agonized tree branches. Everything is blotted with white. Red warning lights glare on the ice back at you.
“Shiiit,” Joel says as he squints at the road ahead of him. He scratches at his scruff.
“Tell me you’re not going to drive through that shit.”
“I’m not,” he says.
“Then how the fuck are we getting home?”
“Chill it–” “That’s the last thing I need to do,” you huff.
“I’m takin’ the detour.”
With that, he jerks the wheel — a bit too recklessly considering the weather, in your opinion – and pulls off onto a slippery backroad. The snow seems to have clung to the trees more back here, a sort of incandescent saran wrap over the oaks. At a bend in the road, icicles hang from a yellow sign that says CURVE 30 MPH. Joel takes it at ten.
You’re not checking out his hands while he drives, no, of course not. You’re looking at the gazillion lights on his dashboard display. “You usually have that many lights on?”
“Ain’t your truck, ain’t your business.”
“I’m ridin’ in it, ain’t I?” you mock his accent. 
Joel sighs heavily. “Drivin’ me up the fuckin’ wall.” His hands clench briefly around the wheel. “Auto repair shop’s been price gouging, I’m tryin’ to get Tommy to hook me up with his buddy in San Anton–”
“Won’t be able to drive to San Antonio if your bumper falls off halfway there.”
Joel’s voice is dry as bone. “Ha ha. You get off on bein’ a smartass?”
It’s three words – that’s all it is. Just a throwaway phrase that he probably doesn’t even realize he said. If it were anything more, you’d know. But Joel, saying those words in that order? Damn him, because it turns your blood effervescent. You stop yourself from rubbing your thighs together underneath his coat. You’re about to make another quip that’ll not only distract you, but also surely drive Joel up the wall, one of your favorite activities.
His truck putters from ten miles per hour to eight.
Eight to six.
Six to four.
“Motherfuckin’.... shit,” Joel says again, this time much more urgent as he wrests the wheel to the side. The truck skims over the frosted roads and onto the shoulder, rolls for two seconds, and then falls to a complete, utter stop. The windshield wipers pause while they’re still up. Heat no longer spits out of the dusty air vents.
It’s the loudest silence you’ve ever been in.
“...So do you get off on letting your truck break down or–”
Joel sighs in the way that dogs do. “Thin ice, missy.” He unbuckles his seatbelt and pulls out his phone. “I’ll give Tommy a call.” He stares at the screen for ten seconds. Taps it. Shakes it.
“No service?” you ask.
“No service.”
“Let me try mine,” you mumble, shifting in the car seat. Sure enough, zero bars. Even though you know it won’t work, you press your dad’s contact. It goes straight to voicemail. “Well, shit.”
“Shit,” Joel echoes.
It’s unspoken, but you both know the harsh reality of this harsh wintry night: no phone service, no operational truck, and… no heater.
“Hang tight,” Joel says, reaching over the center console and hijacking his coat from your lap. He wrestles his arms through the sleeves and zips it up. He shoves the door open against the hoarse wind that keeps the trees at a slant, hops out, then slams it shut hard enough for the vehicle to rock. From how hard the wind was blowing, stray flurries dust the truck’s interior.
You can’t really see what he’s doing – the snow’s too heavy, the hood popped wide open for him to investigate the truck’s viscera. You run your hands up and down your thighs, already feeling cold. Without the heater, it won’t be much longer before you turn to an icicle in the passenger seat. The hood bangs back down.
Joel climbs in from the backseat, slams the door as hard as humanly possible, and then scoots to the middle seat. 
You crane your neck to see him as he shakes out his cold-reddened hands before puffing air into his cupped palms. “What’s wrong with it?” You ask. 
He lets out a frigid breath. “Don’t fuckin’ know, snowin’ too damn hard to tell.”
“Ten bucks it was one of the lights on your dash,” you say.
Joel glares at you, still huffing into his hands. His fingertips are bright red to match his ruddy cheeks. Snow is sprinkled through his hair like soot, quickly melting to beads of water on his windblown curls.
“Got some… hand warmers up in that glovebox. Grab the whole pack.”
You lean forward, kneeing it open and rifling through all of his shit. Insurance papers, more receipts, Miller Contracting business cards, a folded pocket knife, lens wipes, and –
“When’s the last time these saw daylight?” you huff out a laugh as you hold up a battered box of condoms. 
Turns out, snow isn’t the thing that makes Joel Miller redder than a tomato. It’s the fifteen year old, very expired condoms hiding in his glovebox.
He clears his throat and averts his eyes. “Jesus. Forgot those were in there.”
You shake the box around and pluck a condom out of it. Looking for the expiration date, you turn it over and over in your hand. “August 31st, 2004. Really that long since you got some, Miller?”
“Put ‘em back,” he grumbles. “Pain in my ass.”
You snicker, replacing the condom box with the box of hand warmers. They’re unopened, still sealed. You snatch Joel’s keys out of the ignition and swipe them across the tape. “Happy?” you toss them over your shoulder.
“No.” He tears open the pack and rubs his hands together around the warmer, sighing when it begins to heat.
“Dick,” you grumble.
More tearing. “Brat.” Another warmer lands in your lap.
“Oughta get comfortable. We’re gonna be here a while,” Joel says.
“And whose fault is that?” You ask as you weigh the warmer in your palms. The front seat already feels cramped, and you’re quick to unbuckle your seatbelt. Your legs and arms fold like pretzels as you climb into the backseat. The curse that leaves you when you hit your head on the roof has Joel rolling his eyes.
“Pipe down. First thing in the mornin’ I’ll make the walk out to that country club a mile out and use their phone. Just gotta ride out the night. You ain’t ever roughed it before?”
You fall on all fours on the backseat, finally pulling yourself upright next to him. “Never had a reason to. Like, what if I have to piss? What if I get hungry?”
Joel shrugs. “Tough.”
The cold is starting to settle into your bones. Even your tongue feels popsicle numb, and your fingers are stiff where they wrap around the warmer. It’s like you’ve been trapped in a snowglobe and shaken up by a handsy toddler with how the wind rattles the truck and the snow swishes outside. You suppress a shiver, leaning against the door. Condensation is already building on the windows. Absent-mindedly, you begin to trace a portrait of Joel in the moisture. Your fingertip squeaks against the glass. Your masterpiece wouldn’t be complete without his signature scowl, so you’re sure to paint a frown on his face and his forehead wrinkles on thick.
“Didn’t know you were an artist,” Joel comments from the opposite side of the back. “Looks nothin’ like me, by the way.”
You smirk, “But you knew it was you.”
Because there’s nothing better to do than burn time, you spend the next ten minutes filling up the window with whatever nonsense doodles come to mind — hearts, stars, trees, and of course, the only one that Joel seems to be fond of: Sarah, smiling and curly-haired.
Reality only settles in when you’re done with the ephemeral illustrations, their outlines starting to dissolve back to regular droplets that streak down the windows. You’re stuck, for God knows how long, on this shady backroad that the Zodiac Killer would’ve loved during his heyday. With your dad’s best friend that you’ve been harboring a dangerous crush on.
And it’d be impossible to forget that it’s freezing fucking balls.
“Joel?” you say into the dark truck.
“Hm?”
Always one to speak your mind, you say, “It’s freezing fucking balls.”
A sound that might be a laugh leaves him. “Here,” Joel says, unzipping his jacket. He tosses it over to you, and you snuggle back up with it, nose burrowing into one of the creases in the fabric. His coat smells like him – like cheap body wash, chewing gum, and gasoline. 
You try putting your hands in the pockets, even going as far as to open up a new hand warmer for each one, but they’re full of loose change and, expectedly, more receipts. When you curl up against the corner between the door and the seat, the hard plastic bites into your oversensitive back. Sitting upright or cross-legged doesn’t work, and when you test drive sitting diagonally with your feet propped up on the console, Joel makes a disproving noise and swats gently at your shin. You prop your forehead up against the window, but it’s cold enough to give you a brain freeze. 
“Jesus Christ,” Joel snorts. “Get over ‘ere, you wuss.” He hauls you over, big hand splayed over your waist, and drags you across the bench to his side. You yelp in surprise, but only for a second before you’re crushed against Joel’s side. “Can’t have ya gettin’ hypothermia,” he jests.
You don’t know where to put your hands, but eventually, you settle on cupping his neck. Touching Joel, hell, even just being near him, is like being by an open furnace. Or maybe the heat is just your stomach doing somersaults at being this close to Joel after years of frivolous pining. His nape emanates warmth, the kind that flows down your arms and wraps comfortingly around your chest.
Joel exhales, the tendrils of his breath curling from the frigidity. He grabs his coat from the side and flattens it over the both of you, a piss poor replacement for a blanket, but all you’ve got.
Still, cold seeps in through the cracks in the doors, spoiling whatever lukewarm air remains. It doesn’t help that Joel had hopped in and out of the truck to play eye spy under the hood. The truck struggles to hold onto heat properly, especially when it isn’t producing more of it.
Joel sort of… flickers against your back. You think nothing of it until it happens again, this time in short bursts, and then turns into full on shivering.
“Who’s the wuss now, old man?”
Joel tenses up behind you. “Funny,” he says. With your hands cushioned against his neck, you feel the grate of his voice in his throat. “This is the best you’re gonna get unless you wanna be butt ass naked to share heat.”
It should be a joke. But the way he says it… doesn’t sound like a joke.
You go still, lifeless, not even sure if you’re shaking anymore. Because now, the only thought in your head is being pressed against Joel, his soft cock hardening against you, his palms splayed and rubbing over your stomach to keep you warm. And if his cock needed to get somewhere warmer, too…. Your clit twitches at the thought.
You smother the initial shock in your voice with your usual solution: sass. “So what, we’re gonna fuckin’ huddle for warmth?”
As much as you enjoy the idea, you're already dripping — and that’s just from your body being pressed against his, breathing the same air as him, closer now than you’ve ever been before. With no panties in the way, it’s not a stretch to say you’d be dripping down his thighs. You’d hate to have that conversation.
“Would you rather freeze to death?” Joel asks. You look up at him from where you’re curled into his side and find no gleam in his eyes. This isn’t just some knee-slapper for him. Joel Miller is being completely, irreversibly serious.
“I’d rather something less like Naked and Afraid, Joel!”
“It works,” he says, nose flaring. “They do it in those fuckin’... action movies all ‘a the time.”
“I didn’t know Hollywood was writing survival manuals for pervs–”
“God, you’re a piece ‘a work, ya know that?” His eyes flick down to you, and maybe it’s just the fact that this road is damn near pitch black, but his pupils seem larger than before. “Listen, I ain’t tryna perv on ya. I also ain’t tryna send you back to your old man with four fingers missin’ from frostbite.”
There’s no way you’re actually seriously considering this. You’ve heard of cold temperatures impairing thinking, but not like this. Your dad’ll go chasing after Joel with a pitchfork and a shovel if he finds out the man who was supposed to get you home safe and sound was cuddling naked with you. Cuddling naked with you in the backseat, no less. You’re certain Joel won’t try anything – he’s not like that. No matter how flustered you get in his lap, he’d never take advantage of you. What you aren’t certain of is your ability to stop yourself from asking him t0 take advantage of you.
This is practical. It’s only supposed to be practical. He wouldn’t be suggesting something this drastic if you both weren’t shaking like a rattlesnake’s rattler.
“Fine,” you say, already unwinding your scarf from around your neck. Determined to keep some semblance of boundaries up, you add, “No peeping, Miller.”
Joel makes an exasperated sound as you once again scoot out from his coat and across the bench, working yourself out of your shoes, your cotton zip-up, and then the stiff Keith’s uniform – a blue polo and jeans. Joel’s eyes are respectfully trained on the truck’s floor mats, which you’re only just now noticing has a sun-bleached Lisa Frank sticker tacked onto it. 
Down to your bra and panties, your heart rate picks up. Your fingers are so fucking cold that it’s hard to get your bra straps out of the way so you can unclasp the damned thing, and then it falls to the floor. Your nipples harden in the face of the cold. The only thing you keep is your scarf, which do you do your best to cover your tits with. Scooping up your discarded clothes and tossing them to the front seat, you let out a shaky breath.
Fuck it.
You shimmy out of your panties and get rid of them just as quickly. When you try telling Joel you’re decent, or rather indecent, nothing comes out. Instead, you have to clear your throat with a strained,  “All good.”
“Alright,” Joel says, rustling around. You hear his crocs scrape against the mat, and then his shirt swishing over his head.
He doesn’t tell you to look away, but since it’s implied, you look out of the window. The snowy trees tremble in the wind, and you almost wince when you see a small sliver of his tanned skin reflected in the glass. His crocs clunk on the ground when he kicks them off, and you watch his criminally tight t-shirt go flying over the passenger seat. You casually grip the Jesus handle, hoping that Joel doesn’t notice your fist tightening around it when you hear him untying the drawstrings of his sweatpants. When his sweats and boxers follow the path of his shirt, breathing gets a lot harder than you remember it being.
Just an hour ago, you’d been certain that this would be nothing more than a ten minute drive. Maybe, if you were lucky, he’d call you a casual pet name that would fuel the wriggling of your hand between your thighs that night. 
The tension in the air is thicker than molasses. Each breath you take is fragile.
“I’m ready when you are,” Joel says.
Since you’re already half-naked, and since chickening out is out of the question, you inch over to Joel’s side. The air tumbles out of your lungs in one fell swoop when your bicep meets his. With some fidgeting, you bring your legs up at an angle beneath you, wrapping around his side in a way that has you feeling a little bit like a koala. You talk yourself into keeping your eyes forward and then scrub your palms across your freezing arms.
Joel, more indifferent than you think anyone else in this situation could be, abruptly casts his coat back over the both of you.
And, fuck him, he’d been right. The engulfing canvas of his coat keeps warmth trapped where it can be passed easily between the two of you. Or maybe it’s just being confined and skin-to-skin with Joel that has you heating up.
The silence is cruel – it’s much harder to make conversation about work or dollhouses or whatever the hell else when you’re naked. Only the wind’s sibilance keeps you company.
You can get used to this, you think. Drift off into a somewhat sound sleep with your head on Joel’s shoulder and hope that you don’t drool all over him or moan his name in your sleep. More embarrassing things have happened to you.
But then, as if you’re the unluckiest person alive, the temperature drops even more, and suddenly, you’re shaking like a leaf all over again. Your teeth almost clack together as you try to stammer out to Joel, “C–cold, Jesus fucking… Christ that’s cold.”
Joel pouts down at you, but you don’t miss the way his lip quivers. “Should I call the wambulance?”
“Should I call the r–r–r–retirement home to pi…pick up a ru–runaway resident?” It sounded a lot better in your head than bouncing off of your frozen tongue, you have to admit.
“Drama queen,” Joel mutters into your ear. “Can’t do anythin’ more about it. Sorry–”
“Can I sit on your lap?” you blurt out so quickly that you don’t even have time to think about it. You grimace, partially covering your face with your hands. Shit.
Joel’s eyes widen. “Excuse me?”
You’re already half doomed. Why not go all the way? “Listen, it’s just fucking… fucking freezing, Joel. Holy shit.”
“That bad?” he chokes out.
“You’d be warmer than the seats,” you defend. “I’ll be careful, I promise. Best behavior.”
Joel seems to ponder it for a moment, brows stitched together while he looks down at you from where you’re furled up against his side. He gnaws on the inside of his cheek before giving you a slight nod. “Alright.” You nod in return, heart in your throat. “–But you better mean it when you say best behavior. Can’t have any ‘a this shit gettin’ back to your dad.”
Another nod. You hold your breath as you shinny your way onto Joel’s lap, mounting him from the front so his chest hits your back. In your attempt to get comfortable, you bracket your legs around his. His soft cock fits at the small of your back, and even though he’s as flaccid as can be, he’s big. Apparently your imagination isn’t too far off. Joel’s sharp intake of breath forms a pit in your stomach, and you know when you’re warming up for an entirely different reason than close proximity, you also know that you need to calm yourself down. Fast.
Think of something awful. Like that time that you had to dissect cow eyes in sophomore year biology. Think about mold. How many murderers you’ll walk by in your lifetime. Expired leftovers. Anything–
You adjust yourself in an attempt to get away from Joel’s cock. Instead, your hips move just so his cock slips between your thighs and bobs against your slit.
You whine.
Your body immediately locks up once you realize what you’ve done. Crawling out of the truck to die a hypothermia-induced death seems like a much kinder fate than facing Joel, but no matter how much you scream at yourself to reach out and unlock the door, your hands refuse to move. You hadn’t noticed how wet you’d gotten, and you have no idea how. It’s smeared across your thighs, and now pressed up against your back after Joel’s dick had dragged through it all.
Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit–
Chancing a look over your shoulder, you’re surprised to find the tips of Joel’s ears flushed, cheeks cherry ripe. His Adam’s apple bobs when you meet his eyes. Holy fuck.
You’ve flustered him.
For some reason, the thought makes your chest a lot lighter. You look away nonetheless, but this time, with a newfound gleam in your eye. There’s no such thing as a bad accident, right?
Maybe Liz was right about having to call 911, because when you ‘accidentally’ repeat the movement, Joel stops breathing all together. His cock, almost hard now, you’ve noticed, bumps against your clit. You almost swallow your tongue trying to keep your moan down.
“The fuck you think you’re doin’?” he asks, his gruff voice scratching at your ears.
“I didn’t mean to,” you lie straight through your teeth, a smug little grin spreading on your face. Something about his semi-hard cock between your bodies tells you he’s going to say no to your next suggestion. “Maybe you should put the coat between us, instea–”
“Are you outta your fuckin’ mind, girl?” Joel’s voice comes out raspy. He shakes his head, clears his throat. The vibrations rumble up your spine. “And take away the whole point of stayin’ warm? Now quit it. Ain’t that hard to sit still.”
You try your hand at listening – for all of two seconds.
You hike your hips up, fumbling with his coat as you slot his cock against your slit once more, pushing yourself forward. The coat slides right off of you, falling in a dark lump on the floor. Neither of you care — you’re both too heated for the lack of cover to make a damn difference. Joel hisses, a sound like water hitting an open flame. His hands fly down to your waist, anchoring you to his lap. A surprised noise squeaks out of you.
“What, you got rocks rattlin’ around in your brain?” Joel scowls. “You’re real impolite for a cocktease, sweetheart.”
Butterflies flap around in your stomach from his words. It’s enough to make your head tip against his chest so you can look up at him, lips shaped in a perfect pout. “I’m not,” you say.
“Not a cocktease, huh? Not even when you’re rubbin’ all over my lap?”
You gasp as your hands fly down to cover Joel’s, nails etching into where his fingers meet your bare skin. You tug at his wrist, trying desperately to guide him where you so desperately need him.
“Not happenin’,” Joel grunts, yanking your hands behind you and pinning them to your waist like you’re nothing more than a poseable doll. His large, work-worn hands make yours look damn near miniature as he holds you down. The sudden roughness douses your inner thighs with a new wave of wetness. “Jesus, girl. Poor thing, gettin’ all hot and bothered. Don’t blame ya for tryna get me to help out. Can feel ya dripping down my legs, gushin’ like a sprinkler.”
“S–sorry, fuck, ‘m sorry,” you whisper, words sticky with your arousal. Your clit twitches from his words, embarrassment and need doing all the work to keep you warm.
“Nahhh,” he says. “I don’t think you are, baby.” Maybe it’s the condescension he’s purring in your ear, maybe it’s the pet name; most likely, it’s a combination of both that has you convulsing in his lap. It’s like he’s found all of the right buttons to press to get you riled up, getting you back for all of your snide comments earlier. 
His fingers find the fabric of your scarf, luring it off of your neck so he can cord it around your wrists. You squirm when you realize what he’s doing, and a breathless huff of his laughter brushes your cheek. “I’ll be damned if you ain’t gonna be, though.” He draws it tight, tight enough for you to feel your pulses bumping into each other. Joel leaves a fair amount of your unreasonably long scarf loose.
“Joel, what the fuck are you up to?”
“Teachin’ you some sweet southern belle etiquette, darlin’. Such a goddamn troublemaker, grindin’ on me like I’m some kinda… frat boy.” He shakes his head, disbelieving. “Pullin’ that shit with your pops’ friend. Real fuckin’ classy.”
“Like you’re so different. Who’s the one that’s tying me up? Huh, Mil–”
You hear the hit well before you feel it, a firm whack to your cunt that makes your vision blacken and electricity scurrying up your spine. It takes you a second to come back to yourself before a ragged cry pulls its way out of your lips. You jolt in his lap, bound arms bobbing in front of you as your body instinctively lurches for control. You damn near kick your feet, accidentally ricocheting yourself into Joel’s chest. His forearms hold you there. 
“Guess I’ll make it crystal clear for ya, baby, since that dumb lil’ head ‘a yours is havin’ some trouble. My truck, my rules. You’re ridin’ in it, ain’t you?” You nod reluctantly as he turns your words from earlier in his favor. “That was a warnin’, you showoff. Think you can bat your slutty ‘fuck me’ eyes an’ get away with murder.” He fucking tsks at you.
He pulls his hand away from your pussy, and you’re both surprised and not surprised at all to see it covered in your arousal, webbed between his calloused fingers. 
“Got a whole goddamn slip ‘n slide down here…” murmurs Joel. You whine, bucking your hips against him. “Oughta just…” he starts, nudging his cock towards your hole. The noise you make is pathetic. “Stop ya from ruinin’ my seats. Cork you right up.” You tense up, fully expecting the intrusion, but his dick passes your cunt right up, instead sliding up to meet your clit. It taps against your swollen nub, and if his goal was to stop you from ruining his seats, you’re certain he’s already failed with how quickly you gush all over the upholstery.
“But that’d be real nice, wouldn’t it? Givin’ ya what ya want so early on…” Instead of pulling away like you expect, Joel griiiinds the head of his cock against your clit. You moan helplessly, head falling back across his shoulder.
And then he does it again.
And again.
And agai–
“Joooooel,” you whine, knees jerking each time his tip meets your most sensitive spot. Heat spins in your stomach.
He backs his hips up “What? Thought you loved this with how much you were gettin’ at it earlier.”
You shake your head rapidly in the negative, chest rising and falling at a breakneck pace while he teases you.
“So you can deal, but you can’t play?”
“I think you’re just taking your sweet old time getting it up, old man,” you grit out, knowing damn well he’s stiffer than titanium behind you.
Joel hums. “Ah, she’s got jokes.” His cock slips back, quickly replaced by his hand engulfing your mound. Your clit twitches ever so slightly against his palm lines, and you’re almost convinced you could get off from that alone. His palm cracks against your cunt again, somehow even harder than the first time. You cry out, eyes burning from arousal and the slightest edge of pain.
With his thumbpad, he taps your clit like he’s just scrolling through the cable guide with a remote. Fleeting movements that have you wanting more more more. It heals the sting of his slap even if the echo of the hit still simmers in your stomach. Your cunt throbs so hard that it hurts, jumping up to meet Joel’s scarce ministrations.
When he retracts his hand, your hips chase the movement. “See this?” he taunts, fluttering his wet fingers in front of your face. You make a choked noise when his drenched middle finger breaches your lips. He doesn’t even need to tell you; you latch on and suck yourself off of his calloused skin. You’re mostly salty, but a little sweet, and tasting yourself on your own tongue by his insistence manages to make you even wetter.
Joel takes his spare fingers, just as soaked, and smears them all around your chin and lower cheeks. He presses down on your tongue as he does. You gag from the pressure, and you can’t hear his laugh over the roaring of your blood in your ears, but you feel it rattle his chest where it meets your spine. Your slick cools quickly against your burning skin, syrupy as it clings to your face. “Need a bib, baby?”
He pulls his finger from your mouth with a pop and your scarf-wrapped hands spring to wipe yourself from your lips, hoping to save yourself from the humiliation of having your own pussy juice anointing your face. You only scoop up a little before Joel lowers his forearm over yours, but for once, you’re faster than him. You swipe your wet hand over his mouth, smudging as much as you can along the scruff surrounding his mouth.
He wraps a burly hand in the scarf and yanks your hands back into place. All you can do in response is giggle, but the breath is swiftly knocked out of you when he drives his cock right into your clit. “Think you’re funny, don’t ya?” He asks, and finally grunts as he rolls his hip into you. A break in his resolve, a sign that he wants this, or at least the discipline of this, as badly as you do.
You almost weep from the pressure, that rope of pleasure in your stomach that he keeps knotting tighter and tighter and tighter with each stroke of his cock, his fingers. “Joel!” you cry out as he follows it up with another firm swat to your clit. His cock spreads your folds as he softens the bashing, nuzzling his tip against your spasming cunt.
“Really, oughta give standup a go one ‘a these days. Be a real hotshot.”
“Oh yeah?” you pant, light headed and woozy.
“Mhm. If the whole crowd’s drunk.” His cock nudges your nub with a new vigor.
“Assh–”
Right as you’re about to press down and follow the sensation, Joel senses it. His cock gives way through your cheeks, just in time for him to land a ruthless slap across your pussy. It’s harder than the others – makes your ears ring for a second, gives you a sort of visual snow that has you doubling over and gripping at the closest object for purchase, which just so happens to be the metal rods coming out of the headrest. 
“Ain’t what you should be sayin’ if you’re plannin’ on gettin’ what you want, sugar,” Joel tuts. He shakes his head at you. “Don’t wanna hear no lip from ya, girl.”
You open your mouth, argument on the tip of your drool-loaded tongue, but your halfhearted attempt at defiance doesn’t last long. Joel’s hand clamps around your chin, denting your skin into your teeth. He jerks your head to face him, knocking you down a peg with scathing eye contact. “You’re pushin’ it.” He loosens his grip.
“As if, Miller. If those pre-Cold War condoms are anything to go by, you’ve been dying for a chance to get your dick wet. Doesn’t matter how much lip I give you, you aren’t gonna blue ball yourself for much longer.” Satisfied, you raise your brows at him.
Turns out, he is going to blue ball himself for much longer, because he lands six slaps in rapid succession across your sopping cunt. The skin smarts, and you cry out. Your grip tightens around the headrest rod to the point of strangling it. Your eyes water, and you can’t tell if you’re crying. Too consumed by Joel, everything has melted into him – the smell of sawdust perpetually sewn into his skin, his cock sealed against your body.
“How many times are ya gonna poke the bear before you learn your lesson, you cheeky little shit?” Joel’s palm cups the inside of your right thigh, just above the knee. He traces circles with his thumb, and heat trails after him with everywhere he touches. “See, the thing about havin’ ‘pre-Cold War condoms’ is that I’ve had a helluva lot more time to learn self control than you. Can wait as loooooong as it takes for you to get your head on right. Don’t matter if you’re waterfallin’ down my seats or not, pretty girl. I’m giving you exactly what ya deserve.”
You whimper, trying (and failing) to get your magma hot core closer to Joel’s unfairly large hand, still splayed out on your inner thigh. You can’t stop how you squirm in his lap, smearing your arousal everywhere with each movement you make.
At a snail’s pace, his hand begins to inch up your leg. Joel pauses to grope at you as his hand travels upward. Handfuls of your skin, rubbing at your scalding hot thighs. Your patience is wearing thin by the time he gets midway there. You need him to touch you. And that’s just the tip of this impossibly destructive iceberg.
You shouldn’t be doing this, shouldn’t have let him go down this shitty backroad, shouldn’t have agreed to your dad’s ridiculous idea of Joel picking you up, shouldn’t have asked to be naked on his lap, shouldn’t have gotten naked on his lap, shouldn’t be leaking like a twenty-year-old pipe in a building he’d been hired to renovate. If your dad ever finds out–
“Joel, please, please – plea…” you trail off, dissolving into incoherent whimpers as his hand hovers over your cunt. You’re running hotter than a radiator now, and if you both wanted to be warm, then you’ve got your wish. Although mostly gibberish, Joel has to understand what you want from him. It’s just that the bastard is unwilling to provide.
Joel reaches down to pinch your clit, and your body can’t even discern from pleasure and pain anymore. You react the same to it all, back arching as you try desperately to plant yourself on his cock. “Shhh, shhh, quit runnin’ your filthy mouth. Only gonna get yourself into more trouble.”
You swear you hear angels singing, swear you see the pearly gates when he gives your clit a merciful rub. Melting into him, you exhale shakily.
“See? All nice ‘n quiet when she’s gettin’ what she wants.” You wouldn’t even dream of mouthing off to him now.
“I want – I need…” you gasp out, putty in his hands. Moldable to his liking. Everything you’d pretended not to want.
“Go on,” he coos. “Tell daddy what you need.”
You don’t even hear him say that word. You’re too hooked on begging, begging, begging. “Please – Joel, oh god, please – I need… I need… please please please, fuck, it hurts–”
Joel clicks his tongue. “Nuh uh. Start over. Always such a chatterbox ‘cept for when I need ya to be.”
“Wha…?” you ask, admittedly dazed from the harsh treatment that you’ve come to crave more of.
“Tell daddy what you need,” he repeats, words molasses slow.
You clench, gushing even more all over him. Shit, your next paycheck might have to go to replacing the goddamn seats if you keep up like this.
“D–D… D-” you start stammering out, but you’ve lost autonomy over your body long ago, and apparently that goes for your tongue, too. “Da– Da… pl–”
“Any day now,” he scoffs.
“Daddy!” you spit out all at once. “Please, please, daddy, fuck – fuck me, daddy, please, I want your cock, daddy. Feels so fucking big. Need it daddy, it hurts… please, ngh– daddy!” Tears are burning the corners of your eyes, fueled almost entirely by arousal and partially by frustration. You squirm, cunt crying all over the place. 
“M’kay, baby,” he says. Running a hand down your chest and squeezing your nipple on the way down. He slides his hand down your stomach to cup your mound, giving your clit slow, gentle circles. Your hips jump forward, and this time, he doesn’t stop you. “Daddy’s got ya.”
At the first intrusion of his middle finger in your cunt, you jump. It’s a lot compared to what he’s been giving you, but nowhere near enough. A second finger slips inside. He doesn’t have to do much work to stretch you out — you’ve been seeping out of you since you first got on his lap. He’s all too quick thrusting them in and out of you – the messy squelch of your pussy filling the backseat has you burying your chin against your chest, averting your eyes. The heel of his palm bumps persistently at your clit with each shift of his fingers inside of you.
“I know you ain’t a virgin, but you’re soakin’ like one. Too damn cocksure to ain’t have had a cock in ya before. Prancin’ around like a glorified dick trap.” You inhale sharply when his fingers scrape that spongy spot inside of you that you can never reach yourself. A moan rips out of you. The combination of him talking down to you and rubbing your g-spot has you dangerously close to cumming. Your moan is quickly swallowed up by more of Joel’s condescension. 
He starts mumbling to himself then, obscenities that make you clench even tighter around his fingers. “Gonna get you all sore baby, make you regret beggin’ for this dick like a horny ‘lil bitch that ain’t ever been laid in her life. Fuck you so hard you’ll be cryin’ for daddy’s cock up your ass instead, turn you into an anal slut, too.” He’s too busy listening to himself talk, too absorbed in his own world to feel you balancing on that razor-thin edge.
The noise you make is inhuman. You pulse around him, doing your best to stave off your impending release. “Daddy–” you warn, but he cuts you off then, too. Joel grinds his cock between your ass cheeks, his precum dripping down your slit to meet your trembling cunt. 
“Ever been fucked here before baby?” He swipes his tip along your asshole, and the way you shudder is answer enough for him. “Don’t get all jumpy, sweetheart. Ain’t gonna fuck ya there right now. Be cruisin’ for a bruisin’.” Still, he replaces his tip with his free hand’s thumb, simply rubbing at the ring of muscle. You fidget in his lap without an end-goal. You just want to be close to him, want to take everything he’s willing to give you. His fingers hook just right inside of you. “Would love to be the first to unlock this pretty backdoor. If this tight ‘lil pussy’s anything to go by… Christ. You’d look so pretty squirmin with my cock in your ass, baby–”
“Daddy!” You scream as your orgasm guts you. His fingers and his voice rip your climax right out of you and your cum streams down your inner thighs and Joel’s hand, still smacking against your clit with each thrust. Your cunt spasms around his flexing fingers. He has to fold an arm over your chest to keep you from sliding off his slippery lap entirely.
All the way through the aftershocks that make your limbs quake, Joel holds you upright against his body, still bumping his palm and fingertips against your clit and g-spot. You swear you can feel him smiling against your shoulder.
“Didn’t tell ya you could cum, darlin’,” Joel murmurs, flicking his cum covered finger across your clit. You wince in overstimulation, a whine catching in your throat.
“‘M sorry, daddy,” you pant. His hands go up to 
“‘S okay, babygirl. Pretty pussy couldn’t help it when I was talkin’ ‘bout fuckin’ your ass, huh?” His hands rove up your stomach to play with your tits, palming and stroking, getting his hands all over every carnal part of you.
You hum into his bicep, “Mmmm.”
“That’s alright. Don’t mean you’re gettin’ away with a slap on the wrist though. C’mon, up,” he guides with a small slap to your thigh. You adjust, bringing yourself onto your knees so he can enter you from behind. You look down at his sturdy thighs, flexing as he adjusts himself between your legs. He gives you one more teasing thrust through your thighs, poking your oversensitive clit one more time before reaching down to spread your folds.
You moan as he presses against your entrance, and it’s not the best time to have a come to Jesus moment, but – Joel’s size was in no way over exaggerated between your legs. You stiffen in realization, and Joel, attentive as always, notices. He guides your chin to face him and nuzzles his nose up against yours, mouth tracing down to your lips. Your breath mingles, stagnant in the long-forgotten chill. A cushion of softness against all of his spiky edges that showed up tonight. “You’re on top, baby. Take it as slow or as fast as ya want.”
Nodding at the reminder, you find yourself that you don’t want to take it slow. You want to be as sore as he’d promised, want to feel him for days and be reminded of this every time you look at the winter morning’s frost on the shingles outside.
Sinking down over his throbbing length yanks the air out of your lungs as you seat yourself with him bottoming out and going balls deep in your cunt simultaneously. He grunts against you in surprise, softening the blow of your heady moan. “Attagirl,” he huffs into the crease between your neck and shoulder. It’s a stretch, searing up your thighs and to your lower back. You’re brought back to yourself when Joel rolls his hips into you, making the pain liquefy into mind-numbing pleasure. You spend thirty seconds waiting for him to fuck up into you in a way that changes your philosophy around the world, but instead, he’s still and solid inside of you.
“Go on,” Joel coaxes, placing a steady hand just shy of your mound. “Gotta prove you deserve to cum again.” He taps your thigh as if he’s telling you to giddy up, and the shame warms the back of your neck better than any heater ever could.
You whimper. His hands coast up your thighs, squeezing your hips tight before falling to grip the seats below. You’re still weak from your last orgasm, shaky legs struggling to hold yourself up as it is. “Daddy… I can’t…” 
“Ain’t no different than fuckin’ y’self on that vibrator or dildo or whatever the fuck’s in your nightstand. Girl like you, gotta have a wimpy ‘lil fucktoy somewhere.” His words make you clench around him, and he groans into your neck. Joel looks up at the front window, now covered in snowflakes. He smirks when he spots the rearview mirror. “Oughta make you watch yourself. Show a pathetic, cockstarved slut what happens when she bites off more than she can chew.” At that, you mewl, grinding yourself down. The chuckle he lets out is lined with cruelty.
Joel pins you to his chest with one burly arm and leans forward with a hash of grunts from effort. He reaches out towards the rearview mirror, lowering it to face the middle seat that you’re both braced on. He sinks back quickly, and it almost gives you whiplash before you make eye contact with yourself. You can see everything. Tremors travel up your legs and into your arms. Your body is getting freezer burn from how cold and hot you are at the same time. Pleasured tears threaten to spill over your waterline. Joel’s smug fucking face as he murmurs endlessly at you. 
Your mouth is parted as you take yourself in, truly a pathetic, pretty little picture as you pant. “C’mon,” Joel coaxes, squeezing your ass. “You can do it. Make daddy proud. I’ll even give you a boost.” Joel reaches to your tied hands and quickly undoes the scarf, letting it drop to the floor. You flex your fingers and then reach out for the chairs ahead to get a good grip.
You prop yourself up on your knees, anchoring yourself to the two chairs in front of you. Using a combination of your upper and lower body strength, you rise halfway off of Joel’s cock before your body gives out. His balls slap wetly against your clit. He laughs, still not touching you at all. Your head flops forward as you look down to where the two of you meet, and then at the mirror where his cock is buried deep inside of you. You whine in dismay.
He wasn’t lying when he said he was going to get you sore. You can only moan. It’s pleasure like you’ve never had it before – too much, not enough, painful, so good. “Please, Joel – I can’t… can’t handle it.”
“I’ll decide what you can handle,” he says.
“You’re– you’re so fucking mean,” you rasp.
“Gets you this soaked, baby. Don’t see your pussy complainin’. You love bein’ treated like a piece ‘a meat. Like a little fleshlight for men to fuck.”
You clench, tight. “Ah!” Joel fucking sniggers behind you, but a rush of confidence spills through you at the underlying moan in his throat.
Determined to get what you want, you tighten your grip on the front seats. Haul yourself up, almost so that the tip slips right out, and then collapse back onto Joel’s cock. And, shit, it’s a lot. You doubt you could handle his cock in missionary, but being made to ride him in such a compromising position, sprawled out across his shitty backseat? That’s an entirely different animal, one that you hadn’t expected to have to handle.
You focus on doing just enough to please him and just enough to keep yourself intact. You repeat your movements two or three times, rising and falling. Little moans and whimpers, some pained, some good when he nudges your g-spot just right, slip in and out of you.
“Mmmm, yeah, that’s it. Daddy’s ‘lil wannabe pocket pussy. Doin’ a ‘lil better baby. Keep doin’ that. Jus’ keep doin’ that.”
You’re shaking like a leaf on his cock as you somehow manage to lift yourself another time before fucking back on him. “Daaaddy.” Your lips quiver as you form the word. A single tear runs down your face from overexertion, and he’s quick to wipe it up with his thumb as if it was never there. You look truly whorish and pathetic, just like he’d wanted, bouncing on his cock with the last of the energy you have left in you.
His tip jabs against that goddamn spot again, and you double over on the center console. You take heaving breaths, making eye contact with yourself in the mirror, desperate to please as you attempt to keep humping him with the change in angle. You’re letting out strings of disoriented words, but barely can tell that you’re talking.
“I fuck you dumb already? Slutty little girl. Told ya you were in for it. Ain’t ever had much of a knack for listenin’. Gonna dick you down now, sweet girl.” He drags your legs into the crook of his elbows, holding you upright for him as he shifts to his knees between your legs. Braced on the center console with your pussy settled on his cock, the new angle makes you cry out. You hold yourself up on your elbows, giving shallow rolls of your hips in return as Joel gets settled inside of you.
The first thrust makes your eyes roll back so far that you see black. “Feel good?”
“So… so fu–fucking goo… good daddy,” you whimper into the console, gripping the sides of it just so you have something to hold onto.
“Swallowin’ daddy’s dick whole in this greedy cunt. Goddamn, drippin’ down my fuckin’ balls. Such a masochistic slut, all after a poundin’ from an old man. All up in a tizzy for this cock.”
You moan your agreement, completely submissive to Joel’s wills. You move like a ragdoll for him, letting him yank you back on his cock while he meets you there, thrust for thrust. He pulls out, a small mercy, but when he sheathes himself back inside of you in full, it’s the beginning of a punishing pace.
You don’t even notice yourself drooling all over the console until Joel says something about it. “Droolin’ from two places. Yeah, baby, you needed this. Daddy’s pretty cockslut.” You whine especially loudly when Joel drags you back across the console, damn near fast enough to give your stomach rugburn. 
Hands framing your spread legs, Joel hooks them both around his torso, using the leverage to plow into you. You’re boneless beneath him, mouth frozen in silent moans. His hips meet your ass with each shove of his cock in your sloppy cunt, the obscene sound of slap after slap pealing out within the truck. “Damn lucky we’re in the middle of nowhere,” Joel growls on another thrust. “Someone woulda been knockin’ on the window long time ago with how loud you’re bein’.”
“Mmph,” you gasp when Joel tosses one of your legs up and over the passenger seat. You hold yourself there as he digs his fingers into your other thigh, shifting his spare hand to your mound.
“Daddy please please please plea–” you start panting like a broken record, desperate to feel his hand on your clit, which throbs with inattention on the console. You grind frantically on the edge just in case he denies you again. 
Joel laughs above you, fully smudging two fingers across your clit in a blur of indescribable pleasure. “Ain’t gonna make ya beg this time. Can’t wait to feel ya creamin’ ‘round me… maybe I’ll make ya lick that up too. Nasty bitch.”
“Joooel, oh fuck, please…” you whine as he continues railing you, this time fiercely tweaking your clit in-time with his movements.
The new position has his thrusts meeting your cervix, and you scream, pleasure corkscrewing through your body. There’s nowhere for all of it to go with how viciously it burns in your stomach – all you can do is take it and whine for him. “Takin’ it real good. See what happens when ya behave? You get this fat cock splittin’ your whore cunt in two, jus’ like you were askin’ for.”
He grips your hip tight, clearly expecting an answer. You slur, “Mhm, daddy!”
Joel rubs faster circles around your clit, spouting filth while he drills your pussy. You can tell he’s chasing his own release, too, hips frantically fucking in and out of you, his cock twitching every single time you clench. You’re burning up as he jackhammers your pussy. Your second orgasm of the night brims low in your stomach, “Come on, baby, know you’re close. Feel this slutty pussy squeezin’ me. You gonna ask permission like a good girl this time, or are ya gonna go back to your defiant little slut self?”
“No, daddy,” you whimper, suspended in thin air over orgasmic bliss. He’s rubbing your clit erratically, doing everything he can to hold you in place. “P-please daddy, can I come?” You practically scream it out.
“Go ahead,” he says. “Come for daddy’s, come allll over daddy’s cock.”
The band snaps. Your back arches, and you feel time stop in the second before you fall slack on the console, spasming from the best orgasm of your fucking life. Your clit feels like there’s fucking pop rocks on it, something that not even your vibrator has ever achieved. “Thank you daddy!” you cry out, repeating it as you lose all feeling in your bones. You hardly have any control over your body anymore – it’s just Joel Joel Joel Joel. Sated and weary, you just lay there, letting Joel fuck into you.
And fuck into you he does – roughly, helping you ride out your orgasm as he pursues his. “That’s my girl,” he says, and you swear that alone could make you cum all over again. “Lettin’ your daddy use this juicy, well-fucked cunt to get his own.” He can’t hold back his moans, that’s how you know he’s close, grunting and gasping as he rocks his hips into yours. His hand lands on your ass in a sharp smack, and your pussy clenches in exactly the way that he expected. He lets out a particularly ragged noise, folding himself over you to nip at your neck and rest his forehead against your shoulder blade. “Daddy’s close, where do ya want me, baby?”
“Tits,” you whine. It’s a miracle you can even get that one word out, but somehow, you manage a few more. “Come on my tits, daddy.”
“Fuck!” Joel shouts, yanking himself over you. You help him roll yourself over and sit up on your elbows, and he jerks himself once, twice, before spraying his load all over your tits with the loudest groan yet. His brows fold together as he cums, eyes drooping and his mouth parted as he takes deep breaths.
You sit there for a handful of heavy minutes, listening to each other’s jagged breathing and the sawtoothed wind outside. You’re both so fucked. Literally, and figuratively. Stuck in the buttfuck middle of nowhere, you with your dad’s proclaimed bestie’s cum drying on your tits, and said bestie staring at you with post-coital puppy dog eyes and your cum all over his balls.
You’re the first to speak up, still winded. “That was… that was good.”
Joel nods mindlessly, tongue swiping out to lick his lips. He beckons you closer, and on trembling legs, you bring yourself to the backseat. You return to your previous position, huddled up and curled next to the door. Joel fumbles around under the back bench for a little until he comes up with a small, sunbleached pack of princess-themed pocket tissues that have to be as old as Sarah is. He dabs at your chest before stuffing them into the closest empty cupholder, and then brings you closer to his chest.
You don’t notice yourself falling asleep when all you can feel is Joel.
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There’s better ways to wake up than a furious rapping on the window, but that isn’t the first thing you notice. You blink your eyes open groggily, only to face an egg yolk sun cracking wide open over the treeline and snowmelt bleeding out from every given surface. Joel’s behind you, nose in your neck, snoring softly with his arms wrapped around your middle. You take a moment to admire him – his sun kissed skin and his peaceful expression. It takes you a moment to remember you slept with him. You slept with Joel, and it was the best fuck of your life.
You’re stretching, on the verge of a yawn, when you see the familiar head of black hair over the window. “Shit!” you shout. Joel jerks to life behind you, mumbling something that sounds a lot like ‘what?’. 
You scramble to pull the coat over the both of you from where it fell off of you in the middle of the night, covering your naked bodies. “Get dressed!” you hiss to Joel, searching for wherever the fuck your panties ended up last night.
“What the hell’s gotten into ya–” he starts, and you feel the exact moment that he realizes Tommy Miller is outside of the truck. “Motherfucker,” he curses, swaying towards the front seat to snag his clothes. You see him almost put his head through his T-shirt armhole three times before he gets it right. His sweatpants are next, which he tugs up his bare legs without even searching for his boxers.
“Joel?” Tommy shouts outside. “Wake up, sleepin’ beauty!” He knocks on the door again, the windows blurry from melting snow. You have that to thank, at least. It buys you enough time to tug your polo over your head, but not enough time to button it all the way up.
“Fuckin’... dumbass,” Joel huffs as he clips the lock on the door and kicks it open, looking at least somewhat composed. You take deep breaths, looking between the two of them. “How’d you find us?”
Tommy looks Joel up and down, scrutinizing him. “What happened to southern gentleman manners? I came out here to save ya from Mt. Everest, brother! Least you could say is ‘thank you’.”
“Thank you,” you fill in for Joel, even if the last thing you’re feeling is grateful.
“Her daddy threw a hissy fit, y’know? Told him you were fine and we’d go lookin’ for ya in the mornin’. We saw all that backup on the highway, I went this way, he went that way, turns out my gut was right. ‘Course my dumbass brother would take this route… hey, you’re truck’s a fuckin’ mess.” Tommy sinks his hand into the closest cupholder, pulling out a wad of tissues that have been soaked in his cum. You hiss as if you’ve been scalded with boiling hot water.
Joel starts, “Tommy–”
“What the fuck is this shit?” The realization seems to dawn on poor Tommy when he’s peeling apart the tissues, and he drops them like they’re a thousand pounds. You can’t even bring yourself to scold him for littering as the wind carries them away. “Joel. You dirty dog!” He says, eyes flitting between the two of you like it’s the most impossible thing in the world.
Your heart picks up to a speed that can rival most NASCAR drivers and your face burns like hot asphalt. You look pointedly down at the ground.
“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” Joel seethes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Get outta here, you little shit.”
Tommy’s hands go up. “Hey now, I ain’t doin’ anything. That is not a conversation I wanna have with her daddy.” He clears his throat, effectively clearing the air along with it. “So, uh, truck break down?” Joel grunts in affirmation.
“Been tellin’ ya you need to make a stop at the auto shop… C’mon, I’ll get y'all home,” Tommy says, jingling the keys to his own truck. “Call a tow on the way.”
Joel drags his feet all the way to Tommy’s passenger side. You get your wallet and jacket together, winding the latter around your waist. The sun almost blinds you on your way out, and Tommy stops you.
“I hope you didn’t let ‘im stick it to ya with them prehistoric condoms. You’re smarter ‘n that.”
“God, no,” you huff out.
“I dunno what’s stupider, lettin’ my asshole brother hit it raw or gettin’ a UTI–”
“Okay!” you announce, hands going up as you round the back of Tommy’s truck. “Conversation over.” You’re still smiling playfully at Tommy as you clamber into the back of the truck, sighing when the air conditioner hits.
Just like that, back to the same old same old sunny, shithole state of Texas. Joel looks at you in the rearview mirror and winks at you. You guess not everything has to stay the same these days.
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wonryllis · 1 month
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watermelon sugar (m) | sim jaeyun.
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﹙ 🎬 ﹚ ぃ ────𝗶𝗳 𝘄𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗺𝗲𝗹𝗼𝗻 𝘀𝘂𝗴𝗮𝗿 𝗶𝘀 𝘁𝗼𝗼 𝘀𝘄𝗲𝗲𝘁?
preview. he’s the sweetest to you, one might confuse him for your boyfriend, but he’s not, he just your fuckboy of a roommate who treats you like a delicate candy, always looking out for you and never at you; or so you think.
or where, jake can't seem to get you off his mind no matter how hard he tries.
meet the cast. simp sim jaeyun(jake) with his obsession fem!reader
genre. and they were roommates trope, fuckboy soft for his girl trope, SMUT MDNI!!!, lots of toothrooting fluff, tiny speck of angst but not proper angst, drunk confessions?, only one who can control him/her trope, happy happy ending, crack/humor, domestic scenes(newly added) college fuckboy athelete roommate!jake with his candy!roommate girl. computer science & programming major!reader, exercise physiology major!jake, nonidol!au, soccer player!jake.
word count. 13,488 unedited! it's word vomit.
warnings. fingering, dry humping, dirty talkkk lots and lots of it, nasty freak jake with innocent(seems to be) girlie, experienced x inexperienced(virgin but has idea), pussy slapping, somewhat drunk sex but there's consent consent, oral (m rec.) different scenes, p in v (unprotected! but pls pls pls do not do this ever use protection!!!!!) multiple orgasms (f.rec), overstimuation(f.rec) and somewhat (m.rec), spitting? slight nipple play, jake is rough and filthy, with heavyyyyy corruption kink it's all throughout the story, strength kink, size difference “i worship the ground you walk on” energy but still dominant jake, jake has soooo many dirty inner thoughts about you it's innumerable. he's a simp for you so you're a slut for him— i guess that's them?
theme song. animals by maroon 5 (jake pov), into you by ariana grande (yn pov)
﹙★﹚ ࣪DRABBLES (coming soon)
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` author notes. im sorry for making you guys wait three extra weeks I hope y'all still want to read this,, what do i say it was so horrible before the revamp, thankfully it's so much better now and the smut god, it was so hard to write it i hope it's good enough. REBLOGS AND FEEDBACKS ARE HIGHLY ENCOURAGED AND APPRECIATED!!
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“i don’t mind this feeling.”
YOU DONT KNOW WHAT TO CALL IT, WHATEVER IS HAPPENING BETWEEN YOU BOTH, BUT YOU LIKE IT. IT FEELS SILLY AND FRAGILE AND GOOD. perhaps a little too good.
god forbid what you had done in your past life to get a roommate like jake, a complete package; a concoction of all classic kinds of roommate one could possibly expect. you aren’t complaining though he takes care of you in every way he possibly could. making you feel like you are his entire world revolves around you, from his time home to the hours he spends on the field. one would ask anything of him and his answer would surely include you in one way or another, everyone knew it, everyone could see it, the way he feels.
he makes you breakfast, he helps with the cleaning- you both actually have it planned to have a cleaning day every week to polish the apartment. he cooks for you and he does the dishes more than often than not, the only exception being the time when you insist deathly on doing it yourself because come on you gotta do at least some thing around the house.
to add to the perfect mixture of god gifted man, he video games in his room with the door shut so that the sound of him shouting at the screen doesn’t disturb you. does the laundry- even your bras and underwear, he’s just too used to those clothings to give a care to get embarrassed (outwardly). he would never admit the way they get him all hot and bothered when he thinks of all the places those fabrics have touched. how wild his imagination runs and all the things he wishes he could do to you. all the sounds he could get, out of you and all the things you'd taste of.
you are his candy (well not exactly ‘his’ but according to him this nickname of yours is only and I repeat only reserved for him) literally because you are all over sweets all the damn time and figureratively because he’d die to have a taste of you; the forbidden fruit of his life, too innocent for a person like him to ruin. but lord would he give up everything to land a chance to lay his hands on you not so innocently.
this man does not give a fuck about who is not you, and maybe occasionally spare a care for his two best friends who so far have only been blessed enough to know your name because jake has made it clear that you're off-limits and if they ever dare to do anything given the opportunity he'd rip off this balls and feed it to ducks (he's serious he swears)
getting to the real point of your dynamic: the only drawback— jake sim is a renowned fuckboy on campus, the heartbreak prince and you, his miss americana as they all like to call it. it is a daily routine, having to find a new girl in the house and ofttimes hearing them even with your door closed and your hands pressed on your ears. at first it felt disgusting, then you got used to it, and now very recently you’ve been feeling weirdly dejected. a certain kind of hatred towards the girls, something you can’t pin point exactly to why and what it is.
“candy, my laptop broke down again!” jake's raspy voice dances through the little cracks of the bathroom door as you prepare for a quick shower. you sigh, tightening the towel wrapped around you before stepping out. a short knock at his batman poster door left ajar, and he's whipping his head to have a look at you as if he knew you'd be in the middle of washing up. a little secret, yes he knew because everytime ahead of bathtime you make sure to have a sip of your watermelon slush stack from the fridge and the sound of it's door reaches his room just right to let him know.
he remains seated on his bed, a sheepish smile on his face. your eyes fall at his desk to see his laptop closed, he tricked you, and like always you fell for it,“maybe if you used your school laptop to study instead of playing games on it, this wouldn't happen all the time. but i assume you probably did it to get me here, it’s not gonna work everytime yun,” you click your tongue in feigned annoyance making him grin wider,“well it does work everytime though,” he knows how to have you on his tail just like you know how to have him wrapped around your finger. it only seems fair, you both know what gets the other going and you use it to your advantage.
“what is it?” asking in a sing song tone, you plop down on his desk chair. spinning in rounds with your legs out swinging, hands gripping onto the arms of the chair while looking up at the phosphorescent glow-in-the-dark stickers you had forcefully put up on the ceiling of his room. a funny memory of jake trying to stop you because it would defeat the whole image of his room only to fold when you gave him the puppy doe eyes, baby talking that you really wanted to do it. it doesn't take much to have jake cave in, just one look from you and the boy is a flatline. fuckboy? he is that to everyone but to you he's practically whatever you want him to be, though you have never really had a talk about it.
“actually eunsang, she-” there is a hesitation is his tone you are well aware of, having almost a clear idea of what he's about to say,“i told- no warned you not to get involved with her for a second time, didn’t i?” you scold, feeling that little twinge of hurt knowing he probably will keep on being involved with girls like this no matter what you say. it's the one thing where you don't have him under your spell. or that's you think, i mean you you have no idea do you of how much he wants you. just like how you have no idea how much you want him.
“yes but it happened and now she’s after me all the time, she even showed up to my soccer practice yesterday! please just this one time, please help me get rid of her,” clamping together his hands in a plea, jake pouts as best as he can, giving you his puppy eyes. but when you don’t show a reaction of any sort he resorts to the next best guaranteed thing: bribery,“i’ll buy you tons of watermelon lollipops! from your favorite brand that too!” eyes sparkling with hope and expections of having you fall for it, like you do every single time, he waits. albeit patterns break, in everything and everyone.
“no, i’m on a diet. i gave up on sweets, what if i get diabetes? will you,” you point at him dramatically,“take responsibility?” to which his stance morphs into one of stunned. he would gladly take responsibility for you at any given chance, but it's one of more gravity and significance than diabetes. and he's sure he's not one you should be in care of as more than anything that you are right now. he's too corrupted and you are too naive.
“yes of course i’ll help you take your meds and-” he mumbles in a quick, hurried note aware that you’ll not let him answer if he’s not fast enough. you still beat him to it though, speaking loud over and above his voice, to drown out his words despite hearing them quite clearly,“will you? NO you will not! so let me just shower peacefully before i get the urge to lock you in the bathroom when you’re in there later,” with a silence after, one that has jake grinning again at your cuteness, you take it as a que to rush out swiftly. trying to make it to the bathroom before he decides to use his strength against you and hold you down wherever he wants. which though hasn't been often, has always left you breathless and flustered to a point you refuse to admit.
training to become an athlete, a buff center forward in comparison to you who barely puts effort into doing even a little bit of yoga once a month. it’s obvious he’ll have you give in if he wants but he’s too sweet to force you. and of course it's obvious, the tension of the strength kink that looms over in the room.
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it comes as a shock to you when the next day, the first thing you see waking up in the morning and walking into the living room: is eunsang standing by the kitchen counter. and important point: clad in one of jake’s dress shirts that you recognize from doing his laundry occasionally, pouring herself a glass of water. oh you had to see this coming, this is jake we're talking about will be really ever like ever not bring over girls? no matter if they're clingy or not. the answer is ambiguous and definitely not to your favor.
she’s shares a small smile upon noticing you, a friendly smile which you know is obviously fake. she’s doing it just to look good and polite in jake’s eyes. just to show that she's not bothered by you, because as said everyone knows if they don't like you then they automatically are on jake sim's blacklist. and being the star player of the team, his acquaintance is more or less influential to a large extent, so note to be taken be nice to candy to not be on the cross out list.
however as sad as it is to say it’s of no use. she’s not even there in his eyes to begin with. the moment the jake comes out of his room, his field of vision doesn’t include her. passing by her very visible figure like she’s a microscopic bug to ruffle your hair in a dotting manner, his morning voice coming out in an adoring essence,“good morning, candy,” he smiles and scrunches up his nose when he notices the baby cat you both adopted last month, curled up in the corner of the couch,“and mei,” he acknowledges your pet kitty but not the girl he brought home, that should speak volumes to you, jake thinks. treating you like candy of his world you are, shouldn't that be the ultimate giveaway of his feelings? like even his hookups can see how down bad he is for you why is it that you're the only one who can't? he wants you to know but at the same time he feels he's not right for you, a dilemma he handles by fucking up over and over again.
wishing him morning in response you give him a look which silently delivers your question of what is going on. you did hear them last night (more like her), but you didn’t know it was her her. you weren’t even expecting her to be the one. after the conversation with jake yesterday, she was the last person you would have ever assumed. he sends you a flying look that he’ll explain everything later, shushing you off before you speak out loud.
“yunie,” your ears perk up at her voice, eyes narrowing in a deadly stare at the nickname you exclusively call him with, leaving her crusty mouth. certainly, like jake you blossom a definite possession over names too. perhaps it's the effect of living with him 24/7 but you seem to have picked up a lot of his antics.
jake’s eyes shift to look at you for a moment and then he’s running a hand through his hair, dropping his sweet conduct to get back into his usual cold fuckboy self. he absolutely does not like the way your brows turn down and the pretty smile you were previously adorning for him falling off your pretty lips. he can tolerate anything but seeing you bothered in any way. “you’re still here? it's better if you leave soon, candy doesn’t like all this,” walking around her to the other side of the counter and into the kitchen to open the upper cabinets, jake ignores her like a plague as if he wasn't showing her heaven last night. but alas, nothing comes above you, she should have known that.
“what do you want for breakfast candy? should i make you some toast? or do you want your usual dose of sugar?” his palms rest on the granite countertop, leaning against it slightly while turning to fix his gaze on you. it makes eunsang rage with anger, throwing you a demeaning look before she disappears into jake's room.
the moment his bedroom door closes, you feel the unfamiliar weight on your shoulders relax a tad bit,“my watermelon slush please,” finding your cozy spot on the kitchen counter, you give him your most adorable pout feeling like you had to gain back his warmth after the hookup. your legs dangle over the height between, toes softly brushing against jake's calves every two seconds. watching him prepare your drink, you decide to voice out the thing that had been disturbing since the moment you walked out your room,”did you like make a friends with benefit kind of arrangement or something?” it comes out in a low whisper, afraid if you said it too loud it'd come true. the thought of it disturbs you for some reason, it’s not new for you to see random girls in your apartment; or to hear them while they’re at it. yet it still gives you a sort of uneasy feeling, something you do not like feeling.
“it was a last time kind of deal actually,” he stops briefly to give you a quilty smile. finishing your sweet slushy just as eunsang hastily steps out, wearing what you assume her clothes from the previous night. she slows down to observe as jake hands you the cup, repulsively watching you take a sip,“is it good?” hearing him speak in a tone way different than the one she’s acquainted with him using with her has stomp her way out in a grumpy fit.
looking up from the edge of your cup with hopes to give her a sly stare, your eyes follow her figure, flinching silently when she bangs the door close harshly,“bitch,” you comment, hooded orbs shifting back to jake who scowls in disapproval,”language candy,” he reminds, knowing very well it does nothing to stop you.
“sorry yunie but she's so agressive, and for what?” you whine.
“from what i’ve seen, you’re way more aggressive,” jake laughs softly, index finger coming to poke at your cheek tenderly.
with full cheeks, you grin like a cheshire cat and jake feels his heart rate speeding up, who gave you the permission to be the cutest person he's ever known? the urge to kiss you just keeps growing with each passing day and with with each little sneaky smile and doe eyes you give him.
“we need to get the groceries this week, i have after classes soccer practice for the next four days and we're not gonna last that long,” the thought of spending the next four evenings alone in the unit is gloomier than the half assed ham and cheese toast jake makes for himself. if only you said yes to some proper breakfast, his taste buds and stomach wouldn't be suffering so much.
you nod as if he has eyes on his back, knowing well he's gonna want you with him but not force you, if you'd say no. whatever you want, is whatever he does.
“‘m gonna go take a shower first then,” hopping down, you place your empty mug in the sink, and skip to your room to take your bath supplies.
“let’s shower together,” jake's friskiness thrives in the way he shouts with an undertone of mischief. watching you with a teasing gaze as you step out the threshold of your bedroom door. a tiny smirk spreading onto his lips when you scrunch your nose in a grimace. cute, he mouths thinking you wouldn't notice but god you do. he's clearly joking but you can’t help feeling flustered internally. keeping up with his flirty and touchy stunts and tricks should have made it easier for you by now, but over a year in and you're yet to find yourself getting used to it. he’s too attractive and hot to get used to; at least that’s what excuse your brain gives you, which honestly is true to some extent. his looks score a lot of points and you can't deny that.
“and if we get locked in there, who’s gonna get us out? you know the door lock has problems,” you complain in a soft groan which, in his eyes is more adorable with the little annoyance you show. if you think you could ever intimidate him, you probably will because he'll melt right away to even think of a counter back.
his stance straightens at that, a fleeting look of flabbergast clouding his face before he’s breaking out in a taunt of smile, eyes closing in on you in a brazen look,“so does that mean if the lock was fine you’d actually shower together with me,” he feels this triumph of emotions, a sudden rush of sugar at the realization that'd probably maybe perhaps someday let him get in the shower together with you. the sheer excitement he experiences through his veins is over the roof, just the possibility of something so intimate with you is a bite of golden spoon for him.
he purposely stops all he’s doing to stare at you, moving his eyebrows cheekily, trying to provoke you,“i never said that,” you stick your tongue out at him, closing the door in a soft slam and crying out a ‘you’re sick in the head!’
“only for you!” jake yells back, chuckling to himself as he leaves the room.
two hours later you’re both strolling through the isles of shelving, bright florescent lighting, end displays of popular products, sale signs, banners with store mottoes, isle signs with product locations, rows and rows of household products and everything you'd always spend lots of time looking through until jake has to drag you back home.
he pushes the cart while you look around for items to throw in and cross out one by one from your checklist. the way you both discuss and bicker over what to keep in the cart and what not to every two minutes will lead any sane person to conclude you as a couple. you both would also admit it feels as such. how he insists on taking what you like while you argue that you’re on a diet and need to cut down on the consumption and desires of your sweet tooth. it feels sweet, he feels sweet. and you make him want to coddle you so bad, like what do you mean you're on a diet? you're perfect already. too perfect for him.
“i’m taking the pop tarts!” you hear him shout from two or probably three Isles away while you look through some new make up launches,”…okay fine!” capturing the attention of an old couple who glance at your way and mutter something you don’t quite catch but you assume it’s probably about how annoying you both are, shouting at the mart.
“yunie look these are so pretty,” you point at the line of lipgloss as jake comes over with cart. he hums in agreement, watching you scan through the shades in an animated mood, mumbling over the names and speaking of how it'd look good for an everyday look or with summer dress you recently got. oh how smitten he feels, observing the way you seem so pumped up simply over gloss.
“there's no mirror— “
“try it on me,” oh he's bewitched under your spell.
jake stands still as you apply the mauve on him, staring at you through hooded eyes,”oh, this one’s really pretty on you!” you beam, looking up at him as if he could see it too.
“it'd look prettier on you,” he's hardly able to whisper out, gaze trained on the way you part your lips while you wipe it off his and apply another. if he didn't have a strong self control, by now he would have shoved his tongue down your throat in the dirtiest and messiest kiss you'd ever known. knocking your breath out, as well as his. he's already on the verge of losing it with every little touch you leave on his lips, wetting your own as a habit.
“which one should i take?” you ask something cutely, jake almost feels guilty for the thoughts swimming in his head.
“i’ll buy all of it for you, we can do something like a chapstick challenge you know. the one where you kiss and guess the flavor,” he teases loving the tiny exasperated glare you throw him. “yunn, be serious! which one?”
“these two?” he points to ones you commented were pretty feeling impatient at the conjured up image of you wearing the colors on with you tiny, sexy little sundresses you got hidden in your closet. please feel guilty man he thinks.
in the end jake (successfully) convinces you to continue your diet later over the summer break offering to help you with it. and grabs a bunch of packets of your favorite snacks, your favorite brand’s watermelon lollipops and not to forget the fruit itself. checking all out he insists on carrying everything himself, only handing you the little bag that held your lollies in case you'd want one on the way back.
the subway is more crowded than usual, scarcely any seat left. it takes you a whole minute to scan around for an empty one, immediately encouraging jake to take it. a silly game of rock paper scissors to decide who stands, insisting firmly that he sit when you end up winning. the grocery bags rest by his foot and you stand between his legs, holding onto the bar wobbling every now and then. it’s just one stop left when jake suddenly pulls you onto his lap, adjusting you comfortably on his thighs and placing his hands on your legs possessively. you turn to look at him, lashes brushing against his skin and lips parting in the slightest at the adrenaline you feel pumping into your fast beating heart. the muscles in his chest feel firm at the faint touch of your back against him, the thumping of his own heart similar to that of yours.
he leans closer to whisper in your ear,“that creep right there kept staring you up and down,” pointing with a discreet move of his eyes as he drills holes through his stern gaze fixed on the said guy. you on the other hand, grow hot with irritation, perhaps just as hot and bothered you are feeling jake pressed so close. an abrupt and sharp impulse of anger.
“i’ll show him the fuck he was staring at," you mutter out, teeth gritted, and hands almost forming into fists, expression as innocent as always. jake seems to catch on to what you’re about to do and before you can get up from lap, his hold on you gets tighter,"okay, i know you hate this candy, but i don’t want you getting hurt in any way, if he does anything i’ll make sure to set him right, for now i think he got it that he’s not gonna stare at you however he wants,” hand grabing yours in gentle caresses along the expanse of your arm. delicate and slow like a soothing rub. his touch just as enticing and stimulating it is, is also calming, knowing exactly how to pacify your hot headedness. jake finds that really hot about you, the way you look like you couldn't harm a bug but he's seen you throw kicks and punches (for the right reasons) ‘looks like a cinnamon roll, could kill you’ he never knew that's his type. sometimes and really only some rare times he wonders if you're not as innocent as he thinks you are, getting rock hard at the thought of it, dick twitching multiple times imagining you saying and doing things that an angel like you shouldn't be.
for the rest of the ride he manages to lull you back to your sweet candy mode, making you laugh at his lame pick up lines, and occasionally tickling your sides. head falling back into his shoulder in cute giggles and hips rolling on him, damn only he knows how bad he's holding back. as shameless as he is he'd probably jump your bones right infront of everyone to see. thankfully you bring the decency in your relationship.
when your stop comes, he intertwines his fingers you as you walk out the compartment, just in case you decide to give the dude a slap before leaving.
“'m gonna flatten out all your abs today, you'll need to gym again,” jake chuckles, feeling you roll over his body like mei’s lint roller as he lays on your favorite fluffy kuromi rug typing away on his laptop an essay deadlined for tomorrow. the weight of your body on and off and the touch of your hot skin he feels funsies,“you do this all the time, candy and my abs have never left. how can i let them? knowing how much you love it,” reaching behind to hold you still on his back. you are glad he can't see the way your cheeks warm up at that, a bashful look on your face remembering all the times he's caught you ogling at his body.
“why are you sulking?” he asks when you don't respond with a whine like you usually do. aware that you behave this way either when you’re over the top bathing in happiness or dissatisfied with something.
“’m gonna gain weight now because of you, i’ll see all the snacks and sweets in the pantry and not be able to resist binge eating,” you lightly punch at the curve of his shoulders, dropping your head into the crook of his neck in a pout. jake turns around swiftly to hold you in a hug, wanting nothing more than to cheer you up,“i love your belly anyhow, whether it’s visible or not,” giving the plump flesh of your stomach a zephyr-like pinch. you wince playfully drawing back inches to tease him only to drop down into his arms to hug him back seconds later,“yeah whatever,” his words make you feel butterflies, a turmoil of frenzy and fuzzy feelings, cheeks growing warm once again, and the warmth spreading all over your mind this time. why does he have to be so sweet to you?
you both stay like that for a while breathing slowly, and taking in the comfort of a hug, the room saturated with a restful and serene silence. you’re the first to pull away,“you should finish that essay, i have to prepare for my test next week,” jake groans at the loss of your touch, wailing out with his hands as you leave the room.
”i’m joining you as soon as i finish this!”
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four days later on the weekend, you sit on the couch alone, wrapped in the thin lilac charmeuse blanket jake got for you (he said it the softness of it, reminded him of you.) waiting for your him to join you. eight in the morning with ‘tangled’ running on the tv, it's not something jake would ever want to do, but he gives in because you like it; bonus sometimes when you get a little sleepy, he grabs the chance to cuddle you as close as he can, leaving a few fluttering kisses on your temple and cheeks. he's grateful you never say anything about it and just let him be.
“yunie, can you pass me the watermelon in the fridge? the one from yesterday,” you spare a quick glance towards jake as he walks out his room. his headset rests loosely around his neck, half naked, wearing only a pair of sweatpants and his black hair all dishevelled: looking even more messier due to the perm he got last week. “yeah sure,” the rasp in his voice as he mumbles out softly gives away the fact that he probably stayed up all night again.
taking the half a piece of watermelon out and grabbing a spoon, jake scoops out a small little portion. going up to your slouched figure on the couch, and extending it out for you to eat,“here you go, candy,” he does it quite often, infact he loves to feed you. seeing your cheeks full and your eyes sparkling makes him feel fond as much as it turns him on. picturing you the same way on your knees between his legs with his dick stuffed in your mouth. choking and gagging on him, tears dropping down your pretty eyes while you stare up at him with this same doe look. it'd be heaven. even more so if he would have to teach you how to do it right, further fueling the massive corruption kink he seems to have harboured after meeting you.
he passes you melon after you take the bite, sitting beside you with his legs crossed. eyes trained on the way you fill in more in your mouth than you can handle, face all round and full,”eat slowly,” he flicks at your forehead.
“do you want to go buy a new sofa at ikea tomorrow? this one’s pretty small,” he adds a minute later, raising his brows subtly.
“well, first of all i didn’t plan to have a roommate and secon- i swear if it’s for your hook-ups i’m kicking you out!” it comes out in a yell, voice raising with every syllable before you spit a seed at him. one that due to your bad aiming skills instead of landing on his face, falls and sticks to the skin of his chest. damn those muscles they get you feelings things you probably shouldn't be.
putting away the watermelon on your tea table, you pick up mei and settle her on your lap, pulling back your blanket which had slipped off in a crackle of laughter,“this is public space have some decency before you have such thoughts!”
“stop making me appear like a horndog!” he laughs along, whinning at your false accusations in giggles and a look of faux disbelief.
“well that is exactly what you are!” you throw the closest cushion at his face. grinning with your signature cutesy doe eyes and jake is a goner. he always is.
“no don't do this me,”
“change the sheets then, it's your turn this week,” turning away from him, you fix your eyes on rapunzel climbing down the tower. trying to avoid the way he stares at you with betrayal, immediately scooting over to tickle you.
“you cheeky liar it's your turn,” his hands glossing over your ticklish areas.
“i love you,” in a fit of uncontrolled giggles, you shout. pushing against him to escape only to have your wrists pulled away, held together in a tight grasp and pinned above your head. “candy! i love you is not gonna get you out of chores come on i'll help you. we'll watch tangled later. together, i promise,” his laughter dies down with every word he utters, whispering out the last part as he becomes aware of the proximity between you two. so close you both think, breaths slowing down and heartbeats picking up the pace with each passing second.
“we're doing this okay?” jake whispers again, albeit, his tone a tad bit more heavy and bothered. an ambiguous daze clouding over, as if he is talking about something entirely different than just changing sheets. a twinge of lust bubbling inside. having you under him like this makes him realize just how desperately he wants you, and how bad his strength kink blooms for you. to have you whimpering and moaning, gaze all hazy as you let him do whatever he wants with you. damn he feels his dick twitch at that, gulping nervously hoping you wouldn't notice.
“you look like eugene,” you mumble out suddenly and jake feels his thirst rise off the roof, because the size difference between the characters? he wouldn't deny he thought of you the first time he saw the animation. wanting you have you in his arms the same way.
“then you must be my rapunzel,” you feel even more flustered if that's possible, your stomach twisting and twirling at his words until,”now come on we gotta keep the house clean for mother gothel,” jake let's his grip on you loosen, taking a moment to get off you.
“yunie!”
“i'll make you some sweet soy-glazed potatoes too later,” he voice drowns out as he enters you bedroom first.
“well i guess it's okay then,” you giggle following after him.
“candy that's not how you tuck in the corners,” jake scolds you for nth time, running after you to fix the edges you mess up deliberately time and again. “hey! candy! get down!” you make it a chaos for him, jumping onto the unmade bed and messing up the sheets all the way.
“oops,” there's a devilish grin on your face as jake pauses to watch you have your sugar rush episode.
“if you wanna wrestle again and end up under me, just say so,” he teases, inching closer and grabbing you by the waist. you both laugh again as if you weren't dripping with need for each other just moments ago. he picks you up and walks to the door putting you down by the sill,”i seriously need to get this done, you go and peel the potatoes for me,” you can't cook for the sake of god and letting you use knives is like a deathwish, jake can only hope peeling will keep you busy and safe enough to not end up with cuts anywhere.
the doorbell rings just as you step into the kitchen, walking back to the front in a sluggish sigh. feeling utter regret for answering the door, the instant you notice the figure outside. not wanting to reveal the presence to jake, you shut the door behind.
he peeps out your room at the sound of it, shrugging it off as nothing because you’ve done it lot many times: when your friends show up because you simply don’t want them to fall under his radar as prey.
you spare an indifferent glance at the way eunsang stands tall; hands folded with a cocky look on her rather gorgeous face. she's a beauty and you hate to admit that, a vibe so opposite of you it makes you insecure considering jake's hooked up with her more than a few times. “i’m here to see jake,” she states, tilting her head to point over at the closed door, all the sugary honeyed act she keeps up around him nowhere to be seen.
“and he doesn’t want to see you, didn’t he tell you it was the last time,” you counterattack, folding your arms and straightening up to look intimidating. your stare is one of taunt, carrying a gaze of boredom in hopes to establish that you're one to reckon with.
“are you jake? i said i want to talk to jake not you,” her heels click in impatience and underlying disgust in the tone she uses with you gets on your nerves.
you close your eyes for a moment trying to calm the annoyance in you before it turns into anger, tongue poking at the side of your cheek, “and are you deaf? i said he does not want to talk to you,” assert dominance, assert dominance you repeat over and over in your head.
but what she says next makes you lose your temper.
jake, the very epicenter of it all, on the other hand has no idea of what's going on outside until there's a scream that sounds too much like you, one turning into many more. it's frantic and inhumane, the speed at which he runs out. dropping everything and anything. there in broad daylight he finds you and eunsang trying to rip each other's hair out in the thankfully empty hallway. he doesn't know if he should be worried more about your scalp hurting or your throat tearing from how loudly you scream over eunsang. his hands flail as he contemplates on breaking the fight or letting you calm down, which you probably won't as he knows. he grabs onto eunsang's hands on your head trying to loosen her grip on your hair, concerned over the pain you must be feeling while you're there now trying to kick her between her legs. she's shocked to say the least, watching him latch you off her in a swift motion and throw you over his shoulder. he takes you back inside quickly, groaning at your fists pounding against his back in a protest,”fucking let go of me! i’m gonna give her a good piece of my mind!”
“candy language!” putting you down by the kitchen softly, he grasps the side of your arms and forces you to look into his eyes,“stop fighting all the time, stay here i’ll talk to her, okay?” he speaks slowly as an attempt to calm you. when you wiggle off in a scornful shrug, he asks again, this time moving to cup your face, a tender look in his eyes,“okay?” you nod in a defeated sigh and he's out the door before you can say anything else. you're upset, really upset, you know what you did outside was not decent yet you can't get over the fact that he left you in here to go back to talk to her. he was on your tail last week trying to beg you to help him get rid of her and even shooed her out the unit harshly, what more is there to talk about?
truth to be told, this was how he first met you, or should he say saw you. it was the move in day, he had all the necessities for the week packed in a travel suitcase, with the other stuff to be brought in later on. he was waiting for the elevator in the lobby, more tense and anxious than ever to meet the girl he was going to be living with a good four years of his college life. hoping she'd not treat him like some stranger, or be someone impossible to get close to hash live with. along with little bits of curiosity and hopes again, that she'd be a pretty and sweet girl maybe someone help could form some kind of benefits with.
however never in a million years did he ever expect it to be the cute yet fierce girl in the elevator. to say he was flabbergasted would be an understatement, he was literally blown off his feet, scared or impressed, his confusion was massive. when the doors of the elevator had opened he had found you slapping a middle aged man,”fun? you think groping my butt ‘s fun, you sicko,” kicking him in the balls next. hard. jake had gulped at that, hard. heart on a pause. the look of feigned innocence on your face as you did all that. damn jake swears it was that moment he fell. maybe not romantically but you definitely got his dick hard.
you looked super cute, and you knew how to fight, jake thought he hit the jackpot when you turned out to be his roommate. pretty you were, definitely, and sweet wasn't even a question; you were sweet to him and you are a lot of sweet. the only thing that remains a mystery till now is if you'd taste as sweet. jake hopes he can find that out.
he returns a few minutes later, lips pursed in a small smile as he shuts the front door. it grows even wider when his eyes find you,“so your soy glazed potatoes,” he chuckles walking over to the kitchen and getting other things out.
“she called me a slut for living with a guy like you and i was in the midst of giving her a lecture on actually how good of a person you are-” you bang on the counter with a thud and turn around to face him,“and you dragged me in!” whinning in a pout that looked as upset as your furrowed brows.
jake glances over in amusement, halting to give you another grin as he boops your nose gently,“my darling candy, i’m only good to you,” the glare you throw his way only makes him snicker with adoration. the little flicker of bashfulness you feel making you break out in a smile which (thankfully, for you) jake doesn't notice.
“whatever, i’m gonna take a long shower. do not disturb me!” you leave in a rush afraid if you stay too long he'd see it all on your face.
ten minutes later, as you tiptoe to get your favorite shower gel from the shelf above the mirror, luck decides to remind you why you shouldn't ever stay away from jake sim. feet slipping on the wet floor, body colliding against the cold tiles in a thud loud enough to have jake come running.
“candy, you're okay? what happened? should i open the door? ‘m coming in,” his voice is laced with worry, snapping open the door to find you laying flat down, though to his relief not unconscious. he picks you carefully, bringing you to your room and seating you on the edge of the bed to check for any injuries. hands delicately caressing all over and asking if it hurts any where,”you're so clumsy, always getting me worried like shit,”
“language,” you giggle, trying to make him laugh and it works.
“sorry, just please be careful, okay?” his fingers brush back your hair as you give him a small nod,“do you feel pain anywhere?” another nod, and this one ticks his alarms.
“where!” your fingers reach out to press against the brooding crease between his brows, attempting to remove the frown from his face. and jake melts at that, feeling his heart flutter at your cuteness, god he loves this side of you so much.
“you little demon, look what happens if you don't shower with me,” laughing out together, oh how he wishes it were like this forever. and jake sim has never thought of a forever ever before.
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a month passes by in the blink of an eye, your routines and relationship staying the same as always, classes, his soccer practice and your weekly cleaning day. but what seems to have changed is his routine of bringing over girls, the number alarmingly cutting down day by day (which currently sits at zero) and what you haven’t noticed- his display of affection towards you growing more and more. yet you think nothing special of it, assuming that perhaps now he got a grip over himself. which is partially true. jake thought of you as deserving someone better, so it was only right that he became better. and what better way than to start with quitting the position of campus’ resident fuckboy.
after an all nighter the previous day, coming back from your classes you get straight to bed. changing you clothes and getting tucked under the blanket from around eight in the evening. jake returns from his soccer practice later, unaware of the fact that you're already passed out. opening your door to let you know of his night out plans,“candy, i’m gonna go out with jay and sunghoon! make sure to have your dinne- oh you were sleeping? i didn’t know i’m so sorry candy,” he mumbles out in a soft whisper towards the end, supressing a smile watching your sleepy figure under the covers. trying to rub out the drowsiness from your eyes; heavy blinking and a small pout, his cute girl.
“it’s okay no need to get up, go back to sleep, i’ll be back in the morning,” approaching the bed as you lay back down, he pats your head in a 'sleep well’ before leaving.
it's probably past midnight when you wake up to constant ringing of calls. fumbling around for your phone in a daze only to find a dozen calls from an unknown number and a bunch of texts from the same. it's jay, asking you to get jake from the bar they're at. saying the guy's refusing to go back with anyone that's not you: whining for your presence and making it hard for his two friends.
'where is my candy?’ jay and sunghoon are sick and tired of hearing it all night.
by the time you get him back to the apartment, it's three and your bones hurt from the weight of his body leaning all over you. it doesn't help that all he does is giggle and throw himself over you. there's been a lot of times you have seen him drunk, probably more than a dozen, but he's never looked as wasted as today. sunghoon told you it's because he drank way more than usual, and unbeknownst to you that you are the sole reason, you wonder of the things that plague his mind to the extent of drinking so much.
dragging him into his room you have him sit on his bed, going through his closet and getting him a pair of sweatpants and the first shirt you can grab. “come on yunie, get changed,” you hand him the clothes, turning away when he takes everything off nonchalantly. even though he likely would rather want you to look, from the many times he's said it before ‘why’re you looking away, candy it's all for you,’ his exact words. the bane of your existence.
after he's changed, you wipe the sweat off his body with a wet towel as much as you can. giving him a glass of water before leaving for your room when he grabs your wrist and stops you with his puppy eyes.
in the morning, around noon jake is the first one to wake up and having no memory of the previous night besides the fact that he was drunk. he sits at his desk chair, hands in his hair, watching you sleep on the other side of his bed, clad in his shirt. it’s like he feels everything is over and done from here. he did what he swore never to do, this was the very first thing he pinned on his mind as an important note: not using you even if he has very obvious feelings for you. he tugs on his hair in frustration, angry at himself for not staying in his lane when drunk. with his head hung in guilt, he doesn't notice you stirring awake, sitting up at the sight of his hunched figure.
“yun? are you okay? is the hangover severe? should i make you something for it?” startled at your soft voice, he flinches visibly. a thousand scenarios running through his mind and not one ends up good.
“you don’t even know any hangover recipes,” jake mumbles almost inaudibly.
“i can just search on the internet and try my best, it’s not like i’ll give you anything inedible,” you teaee, trying to lighten the heavy atmosphere you feel in the air.
it takes him a moment to speak again, sounding as miserable as he has never before,“candy i’m,” he halts, gulping to hold back the lump in his throat,“i’m sorry, i really didn’t mean to, i don’t why i, it's all my fault,” he stops again, leaving you confused and dumbfounded,“what are you saying? what apology?” it is when his eyes shift to stare at what you’re clad in, staying there for a hard minute when you get a rough idea of what he could be thinking of. your cheeks grow hot at the realization, shaking your head when unholy images pop up in your subconscious.
but the butterflies fly away just as fast as they came as his words dawn uppn you. even if it didn’t happen the fact that he wouldn’t mean it, want it, regret it has something in you twisting in pain, are you so bad? or that he actually really thinks of you as his little sister? that you read his affections wrong, assumed his feelings differently? your heart breaks more than a little at that.
“why? is it because i’m not like the others you have been with? because i’m not like eunsang? or because i’m not her? the one you were smiling so hard after talking to? are you dating he-”
“that’s the problem! you’re not like her! you’re not like anyone i've known before! you’re special and i’m afraid i’ll lose you, things will change and just i’ll have to get over you without even getting a chance,” it's the first time he's ever raised his voice at you, and the first time ever he's sounded so desperate, weak and dejected. so vulnerable.
the split moment of sadness dissipates with every word that sinks in. the revelation of a(n after)drunk confession. the fact that you're a different kind of special to him, that he would want a chance to be with you, that he's afraid to lose you. you supres the urge to laugh when it all settles into your understanding. having a better grasp over the bigger picture. your steps are slow and calculated as you walk over to him, sitting across his lap and cupping his cheeks in a fleeting breath of courage. his eyes almost bulge out when you brush your lips lightly against his, mumbling softly,“nothing happened, but if you still want i can give you a chance, it’s going to be hard though tolerating me, think wisely,” you giggle and jake malfunctions for an instant before grabbing you in a tight hug, burying his face into the crook of your neck.
“of course, of course i do want it, i’ve always wanted it,” chanting out in a trance.
“your lips tasted like watermelon,” he mutters out some time after, eyes locking with yours in an intense pull. still in a daze that out of all the bad things that could've happened it was none. literally none plus you perhaps wanting him just as much as he wants you.
“i had some in the morning before you woke up, anyhow yours taste like alcohol and your breath is horrible, go and freshen up,” you push at his shoulder, getting off him to leave the room to cook something. probably (as you said) a recipe searched up on the web, hopefully edible enough for a hungover person.
when he comes out later, all showered and back to the jake you know: the one who likes his hair slightly messy and almost never in a shirt. “why were- are you wearing my shirt then?”
“you practically begged me to last night while sobbing for i don’t know what reason,” he's a bit flustered at that, but hey, it's what got him here, you gotta do what you gotta do.
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“candy, you wanna go out tonight? jay and sunghoon wanted to hang out but i don't wanna leave you so i said i’d bring you along,” jake asks, knocking at your door.
it takes you a little over a minute to open up but jake's does not mind it at all for obvious reasons, his jaw comically falling to the floor when you walk out in your tiny little blue sundress and the shade of lipgloss he was dying to see you in. you're unreal.
“yes! i heard you on call earlier,”
“oh my god candy, gimme a princess twirl,” the amount of desire he feels for you right now is unfathomable. biting his lips at the sight of your lace panties underneath that faintly flash him in the mini twirl you do. can you get any hotter?
“just fifteen minutes and i'll be ready,” he got ten minutes to do something about the boner he just popped, and it's more than enough to have him rub one out with what he just saw. maybe add a little hint of imagination and wondering what you'd sound like if he were to touch you down there. especially given the fact that the likelihood of it happening were through the roof now. you almost kissed last week, anything could happen at this point. and jake's dick gets impossibly sensitive at the odds of it.
at the restaurant, jay and sunghoon sit in an awkward silence, watching you both be all over each other. when they agreed for jake to bring his girl along, they didn't expect it to be so bad.
“um jake talks a lot about you,” sunghoon says trying to start a conversation that he knows probably wouldn't go anywhere.
“he does? that's so sweet,” you smile, giggling over something jake whispers in your ear, his hand palming over the plush of your exposed thighs,”what do you wanna eat?” sunghoon nerves feel boiled at the way jake completely skips over his attempt to talk to you. while jay sips at wine, agonizingly slow knowing this is how it's gonna be from now on. their friend is a changed man.
“i have this picture of jake from middle school, you'd love to see it i promise,” a little tipsy, sunghoon's persistence to put himself in the equation albeit admirable, annoys the fuck out of jake, scowling at the other well of aware of the so called picture he wants to share.
“jay man, take care of him. candy and i are going home,” jake gives them a tight lipped smile, holding your rather drunk self (it's just wine you had said)
“see you later ca- y/n,” at first jay leans in for a friendly hug but— nevermind. the way jake stares at him is scarily weird.
jake makes sure to have you sit on the couch before he leaves to get you water but you're sprawled out on the floor when he comes back. mumbling something about how cool the tiles feel against your skin,”come on you should drink some water,” jake pulls you up on your ass, sitting cross legged on the floor beside you. his hand softly holds the back of your head as he brings the glass to your mouth.
“alright say, what did you wanna say?”
“i wanna kiss you,” if jake thinks the pout on your lips is the cutest thing ever then the words you say must have to be the hottest thing ever. how can a simple word like kiss make his heart flutter so bad? and it's not even lust at this point.
he fulfils your wish without a thought, leaning in to capture your lips in a gentle kiss. sucking on your bottom lip a second long before he pulls away and boops your nose. no tongue and no other intentions. the after taste of your gloss lingering in his mouth.
“let me tell you a secret,” you whisper out, moving over to his lap, knees on the floor each side.
“i knew you stole my kuromi panties,” he's shocked you know about it, he made sure to be extra careful with it, though his nasty ass was internally hoping you'd catch him.
“mhm, i do have it with me but it's not really wearable now,” he did not see this becoming something sexual but the moment you brought up the panties, you might as well have brought up his dick. man practically re-lived every single time he used it to jerk off, all those orgasms coming to life at once.
“you need to punished!” you whine,
“what do you wanna do?” and jake feels his dick get harder at that.
“can we kiss again?” oh my god, you make him feel so fuzzy and horny at the same time, it's unbelievable. in the guide of jake sim: to make him horny is relatively easy, to get him all fuzzy is once in a lifetime and to get him both at the same time is impossible. yet you do it so effortlessly.
jake answers you with his lips against yours again, relishing in the feeling of them on his own. all those times he wondered of how it'd feel like to kiss you seemed so lame now that he actually did. no imagination could ever come close to way he feels right now. his hand comes up to cup the side of your neck, his grip firm as he pulls away for a moment,”i wanna love you so much and take you on cute little dates and buy you all the food you want and fuck you so hard you only remember my name,”he mumbles against your lips in a bit whisper, letting you take a breath before he dives right back in. this time he lets his tongue slide in, rubbing against your own for a short while only to pull back and go for another trying to keep your lips pressed together for as long as he could. finally pulling away when he feels you push against him a little too roughly, a crawl of shudders all over his skin at the roll of your hips against his bulge.
“wan’ you to fuck me too,” you whine, this time desperately.
“fuck candy, you're drunk we shouldn't be doing this,” he reminds, failing miserably to hold himself back. his hands keep twitching to just grab your hips and grind you down on his dick until you're both cumming together.
“i’m not, i swear. i just drank a little because i couldn't have done this all sober,” even through the layers of clothes, jake can feel your neediness dropping with the way you roll your hips harder against him. speeding up when you think he's pushing you away, but he's just grabbing you closer by the waist. he can't deny how wanted he feels right now, feeling like he'd explode any second. the fuck were you so horny for him?
“are you sure this is okay?” he asks again. no matter how bad he's dying to fuck you, he'll never do it if you don't to.
“‘s okay, please yunie,” you feel his hands slide along your thighs and in between your legs. fingers faintly brushing over the wet patch on your panties in a sharp inhale. he grazes two fingers against your clit, testing the waters. rubbing harder when he feels your breathing pick up it's pace, switching to spank your clit impossibly fast having lost control at the sound of your wanton whimpers.
“don’t move and take it baby,” jake growls, pushing you flush against his chest, making your back arch more and more into him. tits bouncing right up in his face as he bends down to nibble as the exposed skin between them.
he stops for a moment only to push your panties to the side and touch you raw. rubbing rougher and so intense, your legs feel number from pleasure,”has anyone touched you like before?” his jaw clenches hard, eyes dark with want as they remain fixated at the sight of his hands on your pussy. fuck he finally knows what touching you feels like.
“ngh— no, fuck!” and it boosts jake's ego through the roof, he doesn't think he's ever felt as horny as he feels right now. the thought of being the first to touch you in your princess parts, the first you have seen you putty like this, the first to be the one to get you like this. fuck, fuck, fuck! he feels so turned on it's literally inhumane. precum oozing out his tip with every twitch of his dick.
“mm, gonna put my fingers in you,” you feel one of jake's fingers press into you, sliding inside easily with how dripping wet you are. the pornographic moan you let out when he slowly slips in another and curves up has his dick twitch so damn hard he thinks he just came untouched. you sound so cute yet so fucking hot, his mind is in a spiral of everything he wants to do to have you moan like that again and again until you're so drunk on pleasure, you only want him all the time.
“shit you're so tight and warm, can't imagine how good you'd feel around my cock,” his eyes keenly hooked on the way you raise your hips to meet the thrusts halfway,”y-yun, ‘s feels too g-good ah,”
“fuck you're so hot and so perfect for me,” his words travel straight to your core having you clench tight around his fingers and all of a sudden you find your oragasm hitting you as violently as jake continues to run you through it, fast and painfully pleasurable. enamoured and obsessed with the way your doe eyes struggle to stay open, mouth parting in a loud whine, back arching and hips shooting up. god you're a piece of art and jake doesn't think he's ever gonna want anyone other than you.
he immediately stands up with you in his arms, walking over to the kitchen counter and placing you gently on the cold marble. his fingers run through your hair in a soft caress, tucking in the messy strands behind your ears,”you sure you want this? we can stop here if you want. just say the word and i’ll stop,”
“wan’ yun to be my first,” you whimper wearily, jake feels his heart skip a couple of beats. your first, he wants to be your last too and you to be his last.
”gonna make you cum so much harder on my cock,” he places his hands on your thighs in a tight grip and forces them apart fervently. he so damn wants to eat you out but he also wants to feel you cum around his cock, it's a hard choice to make but his cock feels so angry and heavy slick from all the precum he shot out each time you whimpered or moaned or whined, if he'd wait to get his dick wet he'd probably actually come untouched from your sounds and reactions alone. and only god knows(jay too oops) how bad jake sim wants the first time he cums with you to be deep inside you. so much so that he might develop a kink of getting you knocked up (nope you're too young for that!)
he takes his pants off in a snap, practically ripping his boxers along with it, grabbing his rock hard dick, throbbing and red at the tip and trusting into his fist a couple of times. breathing heavy at the way you watch him with your lips between your teeth. he wonders how good it'd feel to watch you touch yourself while he does the same, cumming together with your eyes locked. but he probably doesn't have that kind of self control to just watch you touch yourself, when he can do it himself?
he taps his tip against your clit for a hot minute sliding it along your folds in a strained groan. you're so embarrassing wet, it's like jake could shove himself inside immediately and your you'd hardly feel pain for a while. however, holding back his desires, he pushes into you slowly, holding your body close and stroking your back soothingly,”let me know when i can move,” a tender kiss at your forehead, trying to make sure you know you have the say it in.
jake groans as you give him the go seconds later,”mhmmm candy⁠— baby,” moaning soft and lustful as he pulls out till the tip and thrusts all the way in. your insides feel so warm and gummy, walls clenching around him crazy tight. he thinks he'll lose his mind and end up cumming embarrassingly fast like a teen getting pussy for the first time. the way he feels the pleasure throb in his veins so intense all over his body, it's almost numbing.
your hands loop around his neck, fingers scratching at his back as he pounds into you rough, his pace hard and fast pushing all his body weight against you.
“don't think i can ever get enough of you,”
the sight of the thin straps of your dress slipped to the sides, tits almost spilling out of the front gets jake going, fueling him to grab at you anywhere and everywhere his hands can possibly go,”tell me im dreaming fuckkk— i've wanted you for so long, can't count the number of times i've jerked off to the thought of having you like this, so pretty and dumb under me,” all those evenings when you roamed around the unit in the shortest shorts and the smallest crops, driving him mad shit insane, having to sneak off into the bathroom multiple times. fisting his cock hard, groaning and biting back his moans as he got off to the thought of you, while you sat all unaware and innocent on the other side of the wall.
he stops abruptly, pulling out in a frenzy and turning you around on your heels and pushing you by the back of your neck to lay against the cool granite. one hand going down to grab at your thigh and hook it up on the counter, drooling at the way your pussy glistens from the angle. he shoves his dick back in without a warning, feeling your ass collide against him harsh yet fervid.
you both pant in rasps when his cock hits a sensitive spot inside you. he shifts to angle himself just right to repeatedly brush against that spot and you mewl out loud at that, so loud your neighbours probably know what you're up to.
“fuck i can't stand not seeing your cute face,” jake bends over to grab you by your throat, pulling you up and flush against him, head resting back at his shoulders as he forces to look at him, fingers gripping your jaw softly,”eyes on me, okay baby?” grunting from deep within his chest, a wild grin on his face as he watches you get lost in ecstasy,”i’ll get you addicted to my cock,” just like how addicted he already is with your pussy and everything about you.
his other hand reaches up to tug the front of your dress down, groping up one of your tits, a silk touch to see your reaction. loving the way it's so obvious how sensitive you are there. mouth parting open with you in sensuous gasps as he twists your nipple harshly, rubbing the tip with his thumb. your walls clench a little too hard and your back arches off as you push your hips back into him, the tell tale signs of you getting close,”my baby's gonna cum for me?”
holding your jaw to have your eyes trained on him, he unexpectedly inserts his thumb in your mouth pressing against your wet tongue, your red swollen lips too tempting to resist,“fuck yes, show me how pretty you cum,” you mumble out a series of incoherent words in hazy chant.
the hand on your breast slips down to your lower abdomen pressing rashly against his bulge, feeling faint movement of his cock deep inside you. fuck you're so small and delicate. his hold on you tightening as his calloused fingers find your neglected bud, rolling it in quick, tight circles. it's so painful yet you feel so good, tears wailing down your cheeks as your orgasm crashes hard, overwhelming and violent, thighs trembling and pussy clenching uncontrollably. jake's continues to rub your clit, helping you ride out your high. eyes fluttering shut, and swallowing thickly at the sensation of you creaking over his sensitive length, cock throbbing impossibly hard.
jake refuses to stop even after you have come down,”one more candy, i know you can do one more for me,” hips hammering into you at full force, and lips finding yours in ragged breaths. and it dawns on you what exactly you have gotten yourself into when you feel the two of his fingers protruding at your entrance, trying to push in beside his cock,“if you try to close your legs i'm gonna punish you,” he warns making you whine into his mouth.
in a flash he turns your body to face his, quickly shoving his cock and fingers back into you. his other hand spanking the skin of your ass and kneading it a soft caress after. he eyes hypnotized at the view of you taking him in, a white ring of your cum adorning the base of his cock. he spits at your clit, once again toying with the engorged bud, pinching and flicking,”“gonna make you cum until you pass out, fuck i really wanna do that⁠—” your hand darts out to grip at jake's wrist, feeling too overwhelmed with hypersensitivity. wanting to shy away but the pleasure’s so good you can't bring yourself to push him away.
“but it's your first time,” jake mumbles between hoarse grunts.
before you can even realize it yourself your third orgasm courses through you vehemently. body jerking and twitching, almost falling over if not for jake's hold. jets of cum gushing out as you moan loud.
feeling you spill down his cock, all warm and tight, his brutal rhythm falters,”fuck- ‘m gonna cum,” eyes locking with yours as he thrusts once, twice and then stills, burying himself deep, streams of cum shooting out. hot spurt after spurt, swollen cock twitching against your walls. goosebumps all over, his legs quiver from how hard he came.
he stays quiet and motionless for a while, his arms wrapped around your shaking body. breathing in the scent of your shampoo, trying to calm his pounding heart and cock.
“you good candy? i’m sorry, i think i went a little rough on you,” you nuzzle into him in quiet,’its okay’ as he strokes your head, leaving fluttering kisses over your face. picking you up by the thighs he brings you to your bed, laying you down and gently pulling out. groaning at the way all your mixed cum oozes out, pretty little hole clenching around nothing.
exhausted, you let your mind drift, feeling the drowsiness kick in while jake bends between your legs with a wet towel. whining wearily, when his lips wrap around your nub in a suck, the wet sensation of his tongue against your clit like a shot of electricity,”sorry, baby just had to do that once,” he knew he didn't just call you candy for nothing and he was right. grining sheepishly as he wipes the rest of the cum off, cleaning you all up.
“you're nasty,” you manage to whisper out.
“only for you,” the touch of his body is hot and comforting, arms around your waist cuddling closely(and half naked).
“let's shower together in the morning, wanna eat you out so-”
“jake!”
“what? it's the truth!”
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the following around four in the afternoon before jake has to leave for his soccer practice, you approach him on the couch, as always re-watching an episode of vincenzo. you haven't talked much about labels, but it's known to everyone that you're sorta together. more like jake is taken by you. his friends weren't too surprised to know about you both, it was obvious jake had the hots for you and from the little hangout at the restaurant they figured it all worked out for him.
“incoming, pocky!” you sit beside him with a banana flavored pocky stick between your teeth, leaning in teasingly.
“oh you want me so bad,” he plays along inch closer and biting it off in a snap, lips barely brushing against yours.
pulling you onto his lap with your back pressed into his chest, he locks you in place, chuckling at the way you attempt to escape. his fingers twirling the ends of your hair as you surrender in seconds, switching to watching the show absent-mindedly,”my parents wanted to meet you,” he drops the bomb, tracing random letters on your skin to distract of the fact that he just mention a meeting with parents.
“as my roommate, actually,” quickly adding the important point, fingers poking at your cheeks like jello.
“so suddenly though?” you think back on all the things you have ever done to him, for them to want to see you. perhaps they think of you as a snobby girl who’s indulging their son’s already unpleasant habits.
“they’ve actually been wanting to meet you for the past three months, i was putting it off but now summer break is starting next week and i have no more excuses to give,” hugging you, he rests his head on the curve of your neck, breathing in the smell of watermelon that surrounds you after you had basically devoured a whole at lunch. “if you don’t want to then you don’t have to, i’ll talk to them,” he assures, not wanting you to feel obligated to agree, or force yourself despite being uncomfortable.
“no it’s okay, we can go meet them. how long will the drive be?” fumbling with his red knuckles, your mind wanders off to when he fingered you, growing hot and embarrassed all of a sudden. hardly listening in on his answers.
when jake leaves for his soccer practice, you find time to complete the trivial chores around the house. watering the plants with a pout, missing jake more than ever. you have completely different majors and you are not in any clubs either to stay after classes. the only time you spend together being the one at the apartment which is also cut down by his frequent practice sessions, sometimes in the morning during weekends and normally most evenings on weekdays. it makes you ponder on whether you should try out for any club, after all these years doing something else besides studying. but you have no idea what you should consider, having no knowledge on which clubs you could be eligible to join.
it takes you two whole weeks and a bunch of outfit checks to find yourself on your way to meet jake's parents. feeling almost weird and exhilarating at how his parents and his older brother welcome you. treating you so well even though they recognize you as nothing more than just his college apartment roommate who helps fix his laptop and tolerates the boy knowing the kind of womanizer he is. appearing more as a meeting with in-laws when you jake and you are not even official yet, more so they have no idea of what's going between you two.
they try their best to make you feel at home. during the lunch as jake had told them beforehand, his mother had a few sweet dishes prepared for you, coddling you just as jake does back at your unit. they talk to you about casual things including your likes and dislikes, what major you are in, whether jake treats you well, if you have any complaints regarding his behavior. it doesn’t feel as awkward as you as thought it would and you didn't have to put on any act as you prepared yourself to do.
in the beginning of your roommate journey, his accent, his voice was the first thing to attract you but slowly as you explored his personality you came to like him for more than just what attracted you to him. now you as you spend time with people closest to him, you understand where he got it all from. the sweet person he is, which you never expected a fuckboy to be, you didn’t even have an ounce of hope that he’ll acknowledge your presence in the apartment when you got to know about his playing around conduct. yet he turned out to be the sweetest boy you’ve ever come around in your life ( and the nastiest perhaps, )
when you are sitting alone with his brother, while jake is away downstairs to bring you something sugary to eat, his brother takes it as a chance to share his thoughts,“you know until i heard him call you candy a while ago, i was under the impression that 'candy’,” he quotes it specially with a movement of his fingers,“is supposedly a cheerleader fling of his after i saw the contact name showing up when he got a call the last time he was here,” giving you a sly look as he catches sight of jake approaching,“turns out it’s you, i never knew he is the type to give such sweet, unique petnames,”
before you leave in the evening, jake makes sure to let them know that you’re toegther, and that he’s not playing around this time. he’s willing to give effort into it and change his usual ways of living, to be better for himself and as well as for you.
on your way there you had thought of a lot things, had a lot of assumptions and expectations. even prepared yourself to hear things that’ll stick to you not so positively. but what stays in your mind now is completely unexpected and opposite of what you had internally composed yourself for. it’s all you can think of in the car and after you’re back in the comfort of your familiar apartment.
cheerleader, not a bad idea—
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“oh my god candy, you're gonna be the death of me!” jake pulls you away, dragging you to the back of the bleachers, his cock already rock hard and throbbing with need.
“don't you like it? i thought cheerleaders dressed like this,” you pout at him, fiddling with the ends of the literally shortest skirt of your closet.
“i love it baby, but you can't just show up to practice like that, how am i gonna be able to concentrate when all i can think of you is fucking you,” he groans scanning over your figure again and again, it's like you brought out a hidden desire he didn't even know he had. he'd win every game for you if you were to cheer by the stands like this, the adrenaline of getting to ruin your perfect outfit and your perfect makeup after, putting him on a winning streak.
“teach me to suck you off,” jake loses his mind when you get down on your knees, pushing your hair out of the way and looking up at him through your lashes, doe eyes driving him crazy.
“shit baby, i will,” oh he's so going to corrupt you.
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joonberriess · 6 months
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3 D
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p a i r i n g : jungkook x reader
g e n r e : pimp au.
t a g s : pimp!jk debut(!!!!), some degradation, jk watches videos and looks at ur nudes, masturbation, blowjobs, cum swallowing, head pusher!jk, cunnilingus, fingering, squirting(duh), phone sex(?), daddy kink but brief in some scenes, jk is whipped for his pretty gf :( , nasty dirty talk
w o r d c o u n t : 3.2 k
s u m m a r y : “I wanna see it in motion, in 3D. Cause you know how I like it, girl,” or: Jungkook wants the real thing and not some picture or video. Only thing is he’s on a business trip.
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Jungkook tosses his phone off to the side with a quiet “fuck” under his breath. It’s only been three hours since he touched down in LA and not once did you leave his mind even during the long flight on his way over. He thought that after a much needed nap he’d wake up refreshed but it was quite the opposite. However, as soon as his eyes fluttered open he felt the tightness down below in his sweats—cock chubbing up and throbbing painfully through his boxers.
He tried easing the tension by rubbing his hand over the tent at first, he sighed quietly in relief as his hand slipped under his sweats and into his boxers. His cock sat hot and heavy in his hand, twitching when he ran a thumb over the leaky head. “Fuck.” He softly repeats while letting his head fall back on the pillow.
Jungkook’s eyes slip shut as he swallows harshly, he focuses on the hot pleasure boiling in his lower abdomen while slowly working his cock up and down with his thumb swiping over the tip. He pictures you in his bed after a nasty little pussy eating session laying there all fucked out with your thighs still spread and pussy out for him to look at. He swears he can taste you on his tongue just thinking about it.
His lips part as another breathy moan escapes his throat, he lazily flicks his wrist and strokes over his cock while more images of you flash in his mind. He groans out loud at a particular stroke, eyebrows pinching together in concentration as he struggles to keep the same angle and rhythm. Jungkook starts thinking about your ass—your soft, round, apple-bottom shaped ass.
God he just wanted to have his hands over both cheeks, gripping them tight and giving them a couple slaps here and there. His favorite thing to do was fuck you doggy just to watch the way your ass recoiled whenever he slammed in, the bounce was crazy as all he could do was watch in awe as you threw your ass back on him, doughy cheeks colliding against each other or his pelvis.
A low groan of frustration escapes him as he stops stroking himself all at once, slumping over in bed as he lays there staring at the ceiling trying to ignore the heat in his lower belly. He was not having it. He picked his phone up and immediately clicked on his private photos, biting his lip as his screen blew up with endless pics of you or some body part of yours.
He chewed on his lower lip while mindlessly scrolling through the pretty lingerie and ass pics you sent him almost a week ago. A low whistle leaves him, “Goddamn.” He muttered under his breath, he wanted the real thing but sadly these would have to do for now.
Jungkook palms his cock lazily once more, he wraps his fist around the swollen shaft and gives it a small squeeze. He’s even fucking harder now just looking at your pictures rather than before when he was just going off of by memory. He swipes and comes across a photo of your naked body only clad in a pretty g-string. He hisses low at the sight of the string swallowed up between your soft ass cheeks.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he groans in frustration once more, “this isn’t fucking working.” He stops touching all at once and tosses his phone away, a cold shower will have to do, no use in working himself up if he can’t jack off in peace because it’s not the same.
Jungkook sits up and looks off to the side, this is gonna be a long week without you (at least he had his videos though).
.
Two days. That’s how long Jungkook lasted.
After he finished up with his meetings throughout the day, he slipped into his hotel room and locked himself in for the night. God he missed you so much, he wondered what you were doing back at the club. Were you dancing? Playing? Were you missing him as much as he missed you?
Jungkook was half-tempted to call but he decided against it, while it was barely sundown where he was at, he assumed it was literally nighttime/the next day back at home with you. He settled for a hot shower, dimmed lights, and his phone. He went into the same private collection from before and clicked on one of the many videos he had in store.
He licks his lips hungrily and gets comfortable on the bed, hand dipping down to stroke over his hard-on sitting in his boxers:
“C’mere baby,” Jungkook lazily says, “daddy had a rough day.” He eyes you up and down appreciatively, admiring the way your new corset you bought looked on you. “Ah-ah, you know how I like it baby, why don’t you go on and make me proud yeah? That’s it.” He grins softly, watching as you drop down on your hands and knees, slowly crawling towards him with a devious smile.
“Like this daddy?” You softly say with a sway of your ass.
He groans quietly and nods, “Fuck yeah,” he man spreads invitingly while watching with hooded eyes, “those the new heels I got you baby?” He tilts his head to the side.
“Mm-hm,” you nuzzle into his thigh and press your cheek against him, “pretty aren’t they? Wore them just for you, don’t you think I look pretty?” You pout while giving him those sweet puppy eyes of yours.
Jungkook brings his hand down to cup your face, stroking his thumb over your cheek as he took his time to admire your beauty, “Course, my baby always looks so pretty.” He brings his thumb down on your bottom lip, “But she’d look prettier with a mouth full of cock, don’t you think?” He smirks. You softly moan with a nod and he gently tilts your head up by your chin, “Then why don’t you show me just how pretty you are baby?”
You stare back at him like you’re hypnotized, your small hands come up to undo his belt, the sound of his zipper being pulled fills the space between you two. Jungkook leans down to give you one soft peck on your lips before he’s sitting back like the kingpin he is, arms stretched across the back of the velvet sofa. He watches hungrily as your soft hand wraps around his swollen cock, the sight is obscene given that you can’t even fully close your fist around his cock.
“Go on baby,” he breathes out, “slip me in your pretty little mouth.”
You obediently lean forward, lips parted in a ‘o’ as you slip the head into your mouth. He groans quietly at the sight of your glossy red lips wrapped around his cock. You tongue at the slit of his cock, swiping your tongue over the head in repeated motions—left, right, left right. Your hand gently pumps the rest of his cock, you move slowly and twist your hand when you reach the base of his cock before bringing it back up with a nice grip.
“Fuck,” he sighs as he throws his head back with a hum.
You pull back with a wet pop and bring your hand over the tip, smearing your spit all over his cock as you use it to get the rest of his cock slicked up. After stroking him a couple of times you take his cock back into your mouth, this time pushing down until the head hits the back of your throat with a audible gag.
He swears under his breath and reaches up to bury his tattooed hand in your hair. You blink the tears away and bob your head slowly—swallowing messily around his cock. The noises he makes has your thighs pressing together in an effort to suppress your throbbing clit. Not to mention he looks so hot with his head thrown back and his mouth open.
“There you go baby, doing so good,” he pants softly, “tight little throat—’s like you were made for my cock, tight little cocksleeve.” He bites down on his lip and comes back to look down at you, “Love my cock don’t you?” He pats your head, watching in amusement as you moan and nod for him, “Course you do.”
You swallow noisily, slurping up the excess saliva you leave on his cock as you pull back to pop him out of your mouth, “ ‘s mine isn’t it daddy? No one else can have your cock but me right?” You pout while rubbing the tip over your lips, as if you were coating them in a shiny layer of gloss.
Jungkook nods, “Only yours baby.” He reaches down to grip his cock and guide the head back between your lips, “Nobody else does it like you,” he mumbles while watching you take his entire cock down your throat once more.
You reach up to cup his swollen balls in your hand, pairing it with powerful sucks as you hollow your cheeks. His lips part in surprise, a strangled groan leaving him when you begin massaging his balls while bobbing your head much quicker than before. He can’t help himself anymore, he reaches back down and begins pushing your head against his lap. Each push has you taking him deeper and deeper, until your nose is flush against his pelvis.
“Fuck..!” He moans out when you gag around him, your throat constricts tightly around his cock and it has him struggling to keep his composure. “Shit–gonna cum baby,” he breathes out while reaching into his pocket for his phone.
You hum in acknowledgment while bobbing your head to the best of your ability. Jungkook manages to record you sucking him off before he’s suddenly holding you still with a low moan as he cums down your throat. His cock throbs intensely as hot spurts of cum fill your mouth. “Fucking shit,” he shakily breathes out while running a hand through his hair and zooming in on your swollen lips that are still wrapped around his cock.
You pull back with a low pop, lips smeared in a shiny coat of spit and cum, “Am I prettier now?” You smile brightly.
“Fuck yeah,” he sighs in pure bliss while tossing his phone to the side, that was the meanest suck you ever given him.
+
Jungkook breaks on the fourth day.
“Jungkook!” Your happy little voice rings in the quiet hotel room, “I missed you lots, how’s LA like? Oooh can you bring me back something, pretty please!” You pout while snuggling into the many Kuromi plushies you begged him to buy you.
He bites his lip when he sees the state you’re in—practically naked with nothing but a white spaghetti top and your cheeky lace panties. He feels his cock instantly grow hard at the sight, “Hi baby,” he murmurs, “what’s my pretty girl up to hm? Heard about how wild the other night was for you.” He tries not to get jealous at the thought of so many men being around you, Namjoon had reported that the club was busier that night and it only progressed into something wilder when you came out to dance.
“Oh! Yes! Lots of people came the other night and it was just crazy in there, they literally had to use a broom to collect all the money I made during my dance. Joonie also had to tell ‘em I wasn’t available for private dances.” You blow a raspberry, “But anyways, it’s pretty boring without you here. I went shopping with the girls and today,” you ramble on and on.
He groans pitifully when his cock twitches in interest after you had rolled over laying on your tummy, he had caught a glimpse of your pretty ass and it was game over then and there. “Fuck baby,” he sighs, “you’re making it hard for me, ‘s not fair that I can’t have you here with me.” He mutters.
You giggled softly, “Awww, you miss me that much?” You coo softly, “Anything I can do to make it better? Hm?”
“Yeah, why don’t you turn ‘round and show me your pretty ass baby?” Jungkook bites his lip while reaching inside his boxers to stroke his cock.
In a heartbeat you set the phone up against the pillows and sit up on your knees, turning to show off the curve of your ass. “Like this?” You smirk softly, teasingly poking your ass out and swaying your hips side to side.
“Just like that,” he groans, “make it bounce for me baby, wanna see it,” he whispers while rubbing his thumb over the tip in quick little swipes. He nearly moans out loud when you bend over on all fours, ass bouncing just for him as your doughy cheeks jiggle from your movements, “Fuck I wish you were here,” he swallows harshly while keeping his eyes locked on your ass, occasionally his gaze falls down to your chubby little pussy which is kept hidden by your panties.
“Me too..’s not the same with my fingers,” you wiggle your ass and bend lower until your chest rests on the bed and your back is arched with your ass raised high. “Not even the vibrator you got me works.” You petulantly whine.
“Fuck, I promise when I get back I’ll fuck you as long as you want,” he breathes out while stroking his cock faster, “gonna have you pumped full of my cum, till you’re drippin’, you’ll be a good girl and clean it up won’t you?” He licks his lips.
You nod eagerly, “Course.” You reach behind to spread your cheeks apart, giving him a small little peek of your cunt. He groans loudly when he sees a small dark wet patch over the center, he just wants to bury his face between your cheeks and eat your pussy out till you’re crying and begging him to stop.
“I’m gonna cum baby,” he groans, “lemme see your little pussy, pull those panties to the side for me,” he watches as your fingers come down to hook around the fabric, he nearly blacks out when you yank them to side and show off your cunt to him. He swears he even sees a string of slick between your chubby folds.
Jungkook cums so hard he feels like his vision goes black. He slumps against the bed with a low moan as cum covers his fist and cock, some of it even landed on his pelvis—further making a mess of himself. “God I miss you,” he mutters, “just a few more days baby.” He licks his lips, “Then I’m all yours.” He grins.
“Can’t wait.” You smile dopily, “Sweet dreams.” You coo.
+
Jungkook can’t wait anymore. As soon as his plane touches down and the driver takes him home, he’s booking it straight to the bedroom. You had sent him a flirty message along with a picture of yourself in nothing but a thong waiting for him in bed with a cheeky little: don’t be late!
He stumbled through the door, eyes narrowing in on you. You licked your lips slowly and spread your thighs apart for him, “This what you were missing?” You teasingly slid your hand over your pussy, “I know you want me,” you softly whisper while pulling your thong to the side, “so come and get it.”
With that he climbs over on the bed, bringing you down as he slams his lips into yours rather harshly. You moan into his mouth and wrap your arms around his neck, his hands are everywhere all at once. He goes from cupping your tits to cradling your ribs and then sliding down to your ass. It feels good to be holding your soft cheeks in his hands once more.
“I missed you so fucking much baby,” he growls softly, “thought ‘bout this pretty little ass and pussy night and day.” He lays kisses all over your neck and shoulder.
“Well now you’re here,” you moan softly.
Jungkook licks his lips, “Gonna show you how much I missed you,” he breathes out while sliding down the bed until he’s eye level with your pussy. He doesn’t hesitate to tear the thong off and toss it somewhere, he brings your thighs up and over his shoulders as he goes to town on your aching cunt.
He covers your entire pussy with his hot mouth, licking and sucking wildly at your folds, clit, and slicked up hole. You bury your hands in his hair with a loud moan, pushing his head down as you feed your cunt to him. Loud slurping noises fill the space between you two, his tongue runs over your clit in quick flicks going side to side. Your lips part as breathy whines and cries escape.
“Fuck right there,” you sob out while holding his head still, “w-want more..! ‘M too empty.” You buck your hips.
Jungkook isn’t in the mood to tease, he brings his finger up and prods at your tight little hole. Your mouth falls open when he opens you up with one digit, and then another. He hums as he takes your swollen clit into his mouth, harshly sucking on the sensitive little bud while he fucks his fingers into your throbbing cunt.
“J-Jungkook..!” You sob out while arching your back.
Your legs quiver from the harsh stimulation, you don’t know whether you want to beg him to stop or beg him for more. Jungkook however doesn’t let you think straight with the way he’s sucking on your clit and finger fucking you into another universe. His fingers perfectly strike your g-spot with each thrust making your pussy drip and gush around his fingers.
He pulls back to blow on your clit teasingly, “This is exactly how I wanted you—spread out like a little slut with your needy pussy in my face. Look at you,” he chuckles, “practically humping my hand with how desperate your little pussy is.” He leans down to press a chaste kiss over your clit, “Gonna be a good girl and squirt on my fingers?”
“Y-Yes!” You throw your head back, “ ‘m your good girl.” You weakly croak out while grinding your pussy on his fingers.
Jungkook laughs under his breath, “Go on then, cum on my fingers,” he leans down to envelop your clit in his mouth, suckling with a hint of teeth.
Your mind blanks out as you go stiff, your hands grip his hair tightly and you feel your cunt pulse wildly. Your orgasm hits you hard as spurts of slick squirt out from your abused cunt. You throb around his fingers and weakly try to push him away, “ ‘s too much..” You whine tiredly while shaking, “No moreeee,” you pout.
Jungkook pulled away with a smirk, “Messy little thing you are,” he says this as he wipes his lower lip/chin. You grumble back at him and roll away to lay on your side, “What was that, I couldn’t hear you.” Jungkook says while going over to lay on top of you, “What did you say?” He grins as he peppers your ear with tiny kisses.
“I said you broke my pussy, my leg keeps shaking.” You huff, “Get off you’re heavy!” You whine whilst wiggling around.
“Who did?” Jungkook just lives to annoy you.
“You did!” You whine louder.
“That’s right,” he smacks your ass hard, feeling accomplished with himself.
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TAGLIST: @fragmentof-indifference @jungkooksseuphoria @kooliv @angelarin @jjeonjjk7 @lilliankoo @pb-n-juju @ellesalazar @saweetspoiled @laylasbunbunny @prettyprincejk @cherrysainttt @hyunjinswifeee @joongraduatewithonor @hellbornsworld @leire-mia @m1sss1mp @lissful @winkii @lifeless-firefly @exactlygreatcoffee @taestoess @ayalies @floweryjeons @softtcurse @lilspinachwrld @tearyjjeon @littleobsessedkitty @lovelovelovebts @angeljmnie @rerefundslocals @bangtans-mama @thvhoe @maddkitt @tvse @ohjeon @teteswtnr @jkslovey12 @kelsyx33 @milfpo1ice @sluttydidi @ztyur @beomgyuult @shescharlie @sweet-sourhotcoco @lalita-7 @hazzzelsdimension @p34rluv @kook-net @bonita0-0 @vmapy @dahliadaenerys @frieschan
3K notes · View notes
a-hazbin-reader · 2 months
Note
OK ANOTHER IDEA
OK SO WE KNOW THAT ALASTOR IS A MAMAS BOY AND HAS AN AMAZING RELATIONSHIP WITH HER
SO WHAT IF ALASTOR HAD A FEM S/O BUT SHE HAS A TERRIBLE RELATIONSHIP WITH HER MOM, ITS JUST SO EMOTIONALLY TOXIC (especially with reader being an older sibling)
reader never tells him though because alastors relationship with his mom is good and she doesn’t wanna make him feel bad whenever he talks about her and one day readers mom comes to the hotel and reader DREADS it and becomes snappy but readers mom wins everyone over (of course alastor too). So when reader explains that she doesn’t want her mom around alastor can’t understand why and reader feels betrayed its only later when readers mom shows her true colors towards reader. And reader of course bites back (or at least tries too)
So basically angst to fluff and SORRY IF THATS SO MUCH😭😭
👀 Mommy issues??? 👀
Alastor X Reader Headcanons
✅️Romantic
❌️Platonic
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TW: Emotionally Abusive mother, Reader suffering, Reader gets grabbed a few times, Ambiguous ending for mama
Description: ☝️⬆️
When it comes to mothers, it's safe to say you and Alastor had very different experiences
His mother was full of warmth and kindness towards him, doing her best to build him up into a great man
She loved him greatly and it shows whenever he talks about her
But your mother?? Your mother saw you as fucking competition and always found ways to put you down, to make herself better than you
Well maybe she should be the one who was cooking the meals, getting your younger siblings off to school on time or making sure everyone had clean clothes
Just the thought of her made your stomach flip and your legs shake
She would put you down all your life while claiming it was so that you could be a great woman just like her, but not too great, you have to remember who the better woman is
Well now you're both in hell so-
You put as much distance between her and yourself as you could, living your afterlife without her influence
You even got yourself a handsome powerful overlord boyfriend and new friends to share your life with
Even though you're supposed to be in hell, you couldn't be happier
At least you were until your mother showed up at the hotel, her face full of faux worry and tears
"Oh my precious girl! This is where you've been hiding? I was so worried!!"
Before Charlie can even shut the door, your mother has already shoved her way inside and literally dug her claws into you, hugging you
It's all you can do not to throw up, smothered by her familiar scent and grip, hearing her voice again after all this time
"Now let Mommy take a look at you-oh!!! And here I was worried that you were starving! Good to know you've put some weight on those bones!"
And it's already starting-
And now she's crying and rocking you in her arms, cooing about how much she's missed you and how she's never letting you go again
Charlie and the others are just staring at the two of you, completely enraptured by your mother, like everyone always is
She loved being the center of attention
When you finally come to your senses you push her away and create some distance, disturbed by the worried looks everyone is giving her
"Mom, why are you here?"
Oh don't everyone look at you like you're the bad guy!! She's the one who's only here because she wants something!!
"Maybe I wouldn't have to come track you down if you would just visit your poor mother every once in a while...she never even calls me, you know!"
And now she's crying again, Charlie immediately going to comfort her while Vaggie gives you a dirty look
Fucking mommy issues much? Don't fall for this crap
"I don't want to visit you, so just leave-"
"Well now, who is this~?"
Alastor! Yes! He can make her leave! You turn to give your boyfriend a pleading look but your mother catches his attention first
"Oh don't worry about who I am.. just a poor lonely mother who came to see her daughter...but I guess I'll show myself out.."
Alastor doesn't have to guess who she's talking about, even in death you always looked like your mother
His smile gets surprisingly warm and soft, taking your mother's hand in his own in a disgusting display of affection that used to only be for you
"You're Y/N's mother? My my, I should've guessed! You must have so many stories of her from her life! I simply must insist that you say."
ALASTOR NO
You feel sick but nobody notices, your mother already soaking up their attention and winning their hearts
So you turn and leave the hotel, unable to stand being in her presence any longer, you don't miss the smug look she gives you on your way out
You spend all day trying to avoid going back to the hotel until you're sure your mother is gone
You're more than disappointed to find her drinking tea with Alastor, the two of them laughing, her placing her hand on top of his
She always used to try and go after your boyfriends and that hasn't changed either
She hasn't changed
"Oh darling~! We hadn't realized you left! Alastor and I were simply having a moment~"
Alastor lights up when he sees you, only to be visibly confused by your troubled expression
"Y/N! Your mother was just telling me about her life before you! She was quite a wildcard back then!"
Your mother is practically drooling over him, rubbing his hand and winking
"I'm still wild if you ever care to find out!"
You've had it
You tug your mother's hand off of Alastor, forcing her to stand up and look you in the eyes
"You need to leave! Right now!"
And here come the waterworks again
"Y/N..! Darling, what did I do wrong? I'm your mother please don't throw me out like this!"
You just start pushing her towards the door and you slam it shut behind her, sighing in relief
That is until you look at Alastor's face, his smile seeming strained
"Y/N! You can't just throw her out like that, not only is that bad manners but that's no way to treat the woman who raised you!"
Raised you? You raised yourself!!
"Alastor, you don't know what you're talking about so please just stay out of it. You don't know what she's like-"
You're trying to stay calm-
"She's your mother, it's not like she's some evil creature-"
"SHE'S IN HELL OF COURSE SHE'S EVIL-"
"So are you and I, my dear."
You try to put your foot down, tell him that you don't want her here but he's already opening the door for her and letting her back in
She looks so pleased with herself
He invites her to stay the night because of course he does, he would do it for his own mother so why not yours
You try not to give her the satisfaction of seeing you cry but your eyes are already hot and watery
"I-I'm going to bed..!"
Alastor calls for you, trying to resolve things then and there but the only response he gets is your door slamming shut
He goes to go after you but your mother stops him with a gentle hand to the shoulder
"Now now...let her cool off for a bit then I'll go make sure she's alright, a mother always knows how to cheer up her child~"
It feels like you spend hours crying in your bed, feeling so hurt that Alastor took her side over yours
Your mom isn't like his, she doesn't nurture, she just takes from you and bullies you
Later, just when you've about cried yourself to sleep, you hear the bedroom door open
"Alastor..?"
"Not a chance, pet."
Now what does she want
"Why are you even here?"
Suddenly she pounces on you, grabbing your wrists tightly, eyes wild with fury she must've been containing this whole time
You don't even know why she's so mad at you, you haven't seen her in years-
"You think you're better than me now, is that it? Now that you're on your own, living in some fancy hotel, got some powerful boytoy, hiding behind hell's princess?"
As a kid, she seemed so strong but now you easily rip out of her grasp and manage to create some distance between you two
"I'm not hiding behind anyone! I'm just trying to get away from you!"
"Oh no no no, that's not how this works! I am your mother! If I have to be miserable and live in filth then so do you!"
"Why are you even here!?"
"Because it's not fair! I deserve to be here! Not some ungrateful little bitch who just happened to fall out of me!"
She lunges at you and you try to dodge her but she manages to grab you by your hair, yanking you back
You're about to start swinging when Alastor is suddenly there, watching the two of you in bewilderment
Then that bewilderment melts away into understanding, then anger
The radio sounds in the room are suddenly deafening, your mother letting go of you so she can cover her ears
You take the chance to kick her away, watching as she tumbles and loses consciousness from the impact
Alastor kneels beside you but you flinch away from him, still feeling hurt
"Y/N...I'm so sorry..." He does look properly ashamed, his smile a little watery
"Why didn't you just tell me that she was like this..?"
How could you even begin to start?? That you didn't want to somehow sour his opinion of mothers by telling him about your own?
That you didn't want him to feel guilty for having a mother who loved him while you grew up having to be a mother to your siblings because your own mom had none to give??
It's just word vomit at this point, but Alastor simply gathers you into his arms, tutting as he checks your scalp and fixes your hair
When he gets to your wrists where your mother grabbed than his smile turns positively venomous, giving your mother a deadly look
"What do you want me to do with her? Anything you ask..."
You're a little irritated that he brought her up, having been too relaxed by the feeling of his lips against your palm
"I just want her out of here..."
And that's all it takes, Alastor calls for Niffty and has her take out the trash, her scuttling out gleefully while dragging your mother
Niffty doesn't even care, she's just happy to have a new toy
You didn't realize how stressed out you were until it was just the two of you, Alastor rubbing your back soothingly
You don't know when you fall asleep but when you wake up Alastor is kissing the side of your face, looking as apologetic as he can be
You manage to convince him to apologize in morning snuggles and by the time you two come downstairs everyone else is awake
"Where is Y/N's mom?"
Not Niffty giggling and running out of the room
Alastor simply shakes his head and wraps an arm around your waist to hold you closer
"She is gone and won't ever be visiting again, I would like to ask that nobody brings her up again~"
Something about the way he says it manages to shut everyone up
Alastor takes you out to eat your favorite breakfast and spends the day spoiling you
He doesn't bring up the events of last night until the two of you are in bed, entangled in each other's arms
"You didn't ruin my opinion of mothers, you know."
"I didn't?"
"No, in fact, it sounds like you were quite the mother back in your day~"
Not his hand rubbing your belly
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OH MAMA THIS ONE TOOK ALL DAY! I hope you liked it!!
2K notes · View notes
wooyoungiewritings · 3 months
Text
Red Dress - Seonghwa x Reader (NSFW)
Summary: It's time for the annual trip to the mountains to celebrate Christmas with the Parks. That including the human version of a headache, their son - Park Seonghwa. You've never gotten along, you'd even go so far to call him your worst enemy. But something happens on the trip, something neither of you can explain. It leads both you and Seonghwa into unknown territories, but one thing is for sure. It's all thanks to the red dress.
Word count: 20.6K
Genre: Fluff (!!) enemies to lovers, smut (yall.. seonghwa in this one... WOOOH it's getting hot in here)
warnings: "Enemy" Seonghwa with fem reader (fem pronouns). Hwa's mother has passed away, calls reader "sunshine", Seonghwa is a tease and he loves it, Hwa is a D-O-M, messy blowjob, fingering, dirty talk, unprotected sex, aftercare (he's so sweet please), lmk if I missed anything!
This is all for fun and is not meant to represent Seonghwa in any way.
You zip your last bag, trying to gather some kind of overview. Your main luggage bags and two smaller bags filled to the brim. You made sure to pack thoroughly. It would be dreadful to forget something important while staying in the mountains, with the possibility of being snowed in.
A quick buzzing sound came from your phone, your hands grabbing it from your back pocket. You don’t even realize the deep sigh escaping between your lips as you read the name on the screen, somehow you hear the annoyance in the simple text.
Seonghwa i’m here
You type back, wanting him to elaborate.
You at the main entrance?
Seonghwa no i’m on top of the building i just landed my helicopter
yes i’m at the main entrance
You 2 minutes
You roll your eyes as you throw your phone on the bed, looking around your apartment for the last few things to pack. The next few hours are gonna be horrific, being squeezed in your car with the human version of a headache. 
Park Seonghwa.
Despite the two of you not being able to get along, your families do, and they use every possible opportunity to do things together. The annual cottage trip to the mountains for Christmas is no exception. His dad and his sister are all very nice people, watching over you like your own family. His mom was also the kindest woman you’ve ever known, but she sadly passed away six years ago due to sickness. When you were kids, everyone got along just fine. Not the best, because you still thought Seonghwa was teasing you a lot, but it was still manageable. But after his mom’s passing, your relationship with Seonghwa got even worse. 
You never spoke to him about her, because you were simply not that close, but that just resulted in you and him not getting along at all. He got more snarky, which resulted in you getting more snarky.. And now whenever you two spoke, it was always with a hint of teasing and/or mockering. 
You jug to the door as a knock echoes through your apartment, and you open up to see Seonghwa looking unsatisfied on the other side. You can already hear him complain about having to walk up a few sets of stairs, so you turn around before he opens his mouth.
“I’ll be ready in a second.” You say as you walk away, hearing him close the front door as he enters your apartment. 
“Take your time, it’s not like we’re the only ones who aren’t there yet.” Seonghwa mumbles sarcastically, loud enough for you to hear and you bite your tongue before something slips out.
You try your best to carry most of your bags to the front door where Seonghwa is waiting, arms crossed over his chest. He’s still wearing his boots and bomber jacket, not showing any signs that he’s willing to help you carry your stuff. His hair is annoyingly perfectly set, despite it being 7 in the morning like he had all the time in the world to get dressed.
“You know we’ll only be gone for two weeks, not a year, right?” He asks as you put down the bags on the floor in front of him. 
“Seonghwa, it’s 7 in the morning. Can you at least wait until the sun is up to be a pain in my ass? How are you awake right now?” You can’t stop the words from leaving your mouth when you glance at him. 
“I’m an insomniac, this is normal.” He shrugs his shoulders. 
You’re not in the mood to continue the conversation so you go back for the last bag, carry it to the front door and Seonghwa (thankfully) helps you carry the bags down the stairs and to your car. His luggage is waiting in the lobby, he probably didn't want to carry it to your floor after traveling with it to your apartment building. 
Both of your families left for the cottage yesterday, but you and Seonghwa had to wait a day to travel because of busy schedules, and at the end of the day, it was just easier to travel together. You and Seonghwa agreed to take your car to the cottage, so you walk outside where your car is parked, and Seonghwa lunges your bags into the trunk.
“Holy shit, what did you put in this bag? A dead body?” He complains and you throw in your bags in the backseat. You open the door to the driver's seat, but look back at him as he loads the trunk.
“If we’re gonna make it through this trip, you have to stop being ironic in every sentence.” You get in the car and turn it on, hurrying to heat up the vehicle. Fog leaves your mouth as you speak, and you rub your hands to create some warmth.
“Fine,” Seonghwa simply answers before closing the trunk and making his way to the driver's seat where you are sitting. “Get out.” He looks down at you with the unreadable expression he always wears, and you scoff.
“Out? It’s my car?” You state, almost like a question. 
“Yes, but I’m driving.”
“Give me one good reason”
“Well, it’s 7 in the morning and you’re not a morning person, your road rage gets 50 times worse in the morning, especially when the roads are slippery. So you should take this as me doing you a favor. Now move.” Seonghwa cocks his head towards the passenger seat, confidently standing in the door to the driver’s seat, leaning up against the car. His face is hard to read, but every word he spoke had a truth behind it. Despite you and him not getting along, you’ve grown up close together, resulting in you knowing almost everything about each other.
A deep sigh leaves you as you step out of the car, not wanting to admit how he’s right.
“You have a lot of nerve talking like you’re the one owning this car.” You say as you enter the passenger seat, getting comfortable. 
“I just want you to be my passenger princess, is that too much to ask?” Seonghwa sends you a smirk before driving the car away from your apartment complex, and you’re headed to the cottage where both of your families are waiting for your arrival. 
A couple moments in silence pass, and the city starts to wake up as the sun brightens up your surroundings. Generic Christmas music plays on the car radio, a channel that has played ‘Last Christmas’ and ‘All I Want For Christmas’ nonstop since the middle of November. 
“Is your sister coming?” You ask, looking out of the window to your side. 
“Not this year. Her boyfriend offered her to celebrate Christmas with his family.” Seonghwa’s focus stays on the road as he answers.
Seonghwa’s sister is two years older than him, but you and her have always gotten along well. One of your fondest memories with her was when you were kids and forced Seonghwa into their mother’s clothes, and you and his sister used him as a canvas to test your makeup skills. That was the time when everything was fun and everyone got (somewhat) along. 
Not like now.
“Have you gotten better at skiing or do we get that atrocious fall again?” His voice has a tease to it as he glances over at you beside him. 
“It was a year ago, and it wasn't my fault.. I’ve gotten better.” You sound confident as you look over at Seonghwa who has an eyebrow raised suspectfully. On your last trip to the cottage with the Parks, you fell while skiing, which resulted in you being unable to walk for the rest of the trip. You promised yourself to never let that happen again.
“Oh yeah? You’ve been practicing?” He has a smug smile on his lips as he talks. 
“I’m better than you, we both know that.” A smile creeps up on your lips, doing your best to annoy him. A scoff leaves Seonghwa before he presses his tongue against the inside of his cheek, and you know you said the right thing.
“That almost sounds like a bet.” He says.
“And what if it is?” You ask daringly, up for a challenge. 
Yes, you and Seonghwa knew how to bicker, but what could make you both excited was a competition. Anything from board games to extreme sports, you love competing with each other. Or hate it. Love to hate it.
Seonghwa smiles with his annoyingly straight teeth, looking over at you for a second to see if you’re serious, before nodding. “Then I hope you’re okay with losing,” He answers confidently. “What’s the challenge?”
“Who gets down the slope first. Easy.” You shrug.
“What color are we talking?”
“Black, of course.” You try to read his expression, challenging him to ride the most dangerous hill on the mountain. 
“Black? You remember the black slope on the mountain, don’t you? You wanna race down from that?” There’s something unsure about his voice, but it only makes you want to continue going through with this bet.
“Are you scared?” You tease, looking at him with a smile. Knowing Seonghwa your entire life, you know exactly what buttons to press to get your way, and when a confident chuckle leaves his body, you know this bet is on.
“Alright, sunshine, let’s do this.” He smirks, looking at you briefly.
“Anything you wanna bet?” You ask, trying to hide your excitement that he fell into your trap and agreed to this.
Seonghwa takes a few seconds to think, tapping the steering wheel before he speaks. “The loser will do what the winner says for an entire day.” He suggests. 
Somehow you expected this penalty, so you roll your eyes as a scoff leaves you. “Boring, but fine,” You say before looking over at him. “I can’t wait to make you my little puppy.” A huge smile decorates your lips at the thought of Seonghwa in the palm of your hand for 24 hours.
He has a big smile on his lips as he leans back in the driver's seat, getting comfortable. 
“Keep telling yourself that, sunshine. I already have some things in store for you.” He doesn’t even look at you while talking, but he’s wearing his confident smirk as he speaks like he’s imagining what he’ll make you do if he wins. 
You can’t wait to remove that cocky smile.
***
After a few hours of driving, you finally arrived at the cottage. There had been a delay due to some accidents on the road. The further you made it to the mountains, the slippier the roads got, resulting in a few accidents. Luckily, there were no big accidents, and you and Seonghwa made it safely to the cottage.
Your family greeted you, as well as Seonghwa’s dad.
As you mom helps you take off your jacket, she sends you the warmest smile and tells you that your room is on the first floor, which you will be sharing with Seonghwa.
“Thanks, mom.” You send her a smile back and look around the cottage. It looks the same as always. The fireplace is heating up the entire living room, and Christmas stockings for each person hanging over it, including Seonghwa’s sister and mom. There’s a smell of cinnamon hanging in the air as you grab your stuff and head upstairs to unpack. The long hallway with three doors leads you to your room, and you know your room is at the end of the hallway. You pass the closed door to Seonghwa’s room and a bathroom, already excited to have a shower in the huge shower stall. 
As you step into your room, you notice that it has the same warm tones as the rest of the house, giving off a cozy feeling. The room is furnished with a massive bed, and at the end of the room, there is a large window that provides a breathtaking view of the mountains. On the bedside table, there is a lit-up candle, adding to the room's warm and inviting atmosphere.
You throw yourself on the bed, happy to finally be at the cottage. 
This is gonna be a good trip.. hopefully
***
“Last chance to back down, sunshine.” Seonghwa looks at the slope in front of him before looking at you. A confident smile spreads on your lips, knowing you’ll win this one.
“Over my dead body, Seonghwa. I’m so excited to have you wrapped around my finger for a day.” 
It was your first official day at the cottage, and of course you and Seonghwa had to settle your little bet, trying to figure out who was best down the mountain.
“You’re a lot of talk, no bite. Let’s see how your mouth runs when you’re going to be my servant for an entire day.” He sends you a smirk. Your eyes roll back, used to these comments.
“You always claim to be a gentleman. Is this how you normally speak to girls? No wonder you don’t have a girlfriend.” 
“They wouldn’t be able to handle me. Only you can.” The smirk is still evident on his lips. “Besides, I am a gentleman. In fact, I’ll even let you get 10 seconds as a head start.”
You try to read his face to see if he’s kidding, but when it looks like he means what he says, you scoff. “You’re gonna regret that.”
“I never regret anything when it comes to you.”
You both stare into each other’s eyes for a long second, and this only make you more excited. You love winning. Even better when you win over him. 
“I’ll see you down there.” You send him one last smile before making your way down the mountain. You use your poles to help increase the speed, using every opportunity to get down the mountain first. 
10 seconds isn’t a lot, but if you use them well, this win would be even easier. Wind rushes in your ears, snow flying as you go side to side down the slope. You don’t look back, not wanting to focus on Seonghwa behind you, so you stay in your own head, doing your best to come down as fast as possible. 
You feel your legs burn in the best way, having missed this feeling.
The feeling of being free and no one telling you to stop. The wind blows faster as you move quicker down the slope, following the trail. Suddenly, you see a figure, and lo and behold, Seonghwa is next to you. You can’t see his face due to his helmet, but you bet he's sending you a smile behind the glass. He sends you a wave before he passes you on his snowboard, and suddenly he’s in the front. 
Your poles help you increase the speed even more, and you bend your knees to go even faster. Further down, you start to see the finish, and despite being behind Seonghwa, you still have a chance. He moves quick and even manages to be slightly daring on the way down, but you can take him.
You’re sure of it.
Well, that’s until a kid suddenly falls in front of you, and you quickly have to make your way around them. You make a turn, a little too sharp, and pass the kid lying in the snow. The last thing you see is Seonghwa reaching the bottom of the slope before you fall forward and roll a few meters in the snow. Confused, you lay still for a few moments, trying to gather what just happened. All you see is white from the snow until a figure comes into sight.
“Are you okay?” Seonghwa’s concerned voice suddenly speaks, and you look up to see him hurry to you. You try to move, realizing you’ve somehow lost both of your skis in your fall.
“I’m fine, ow.” A sharp pain shocks through your leg, starting from your ankle. The pain is enough to suddenly send a stinging feeling in your eyes, tears slowly forming. 
“Is this how you make me feel bad for winning?” Seonghwa tries to help you up from the snow, grabbing you under your arms.
“It doesn’t count, I fell. We should try again to see- OW!” 
Another sharp pain shocks you, even worse than before, and you give up trying to get up this way. You sit up, no visible injuries, only the pain in your ankle. 
“Can you stand up?” He asks, looking down at you. 
“I’m not sure.” 
“Get on my back.” Seonghwa moves in front of you, kneeling down so you can jump on his back. You shake your head, not wanting to admit how bad your ankle hurts.
“No, it’s fine.” You try to stand up, but wince when the pain only gets worse.
“Can you stop being stubborn and let me help you? Get on my back.” His voice is serious, and it’s clear you won’t get it your way. You do your best to get on his back without putting too much pressure on your leg, and he stands up with you. He holds you under your knees while your arms hold around his neck. “Is this okay?”
“Yeah..”
He manages to get you to a bench, and after a few moments of him checking up on you, looking for any visible damages, it’s clear that the pain in your ankle is getting worse. You (or more like Seonghwa) make the decision not to ski anymore, so he ends up carrying you to the cottage. 
You feel grateful on Seonghwa’s behalf that it’s close to the ski resort so he won’t have to carry you too far. Both of you still in your ski clothing, you know everything is heavier than normal. 
And despite you telling him that it’s fine and that you can call for someone else to help you, he acts like he doesn’t hear you and continues to carry you home. 
Not a word is said between you, he makes his way inside the cottage with you on his back. He helps you out of your jacket and ski pants, so you’re left with your long-sleeved shirt and leggings. He quickly takes off his own ski clothing before suddenly carrying you bridal style, making his way to the stairs. 
Your arm encircles his neck as he carefully walks up the stairs, ensuring your foot doesn't touch anything.
“You don’t have to do this.” You almost whisper.
“I know.” He responds, seeing the door to your room. He walks in and puts you on the bed softly. You wince when you move your ankle, and Seonghwa notices immediately. “Where does it hurt?”
“My ankle, and down to the heel.” You point exactly where it hurts, and he looks at your foot before grabbing his phone from his pocket.
“I’ll be right back,” Is the only thing he says before he makes his way out of your room and you hear him walk down the stairs. You have no idea what he’s doing or what you’re waiting for. You just use this moment to be thankful that you didn’t get hurt anywhere else.
After a few minutes, you hear Seonghwa’s voice get closer as he makes his way up the stairs. You hear him talking on the phone.
“Yes.. Alright. No, it looks a little swollen. Okay, thank you.” He appears at your door with some ice in a towel and walks closer to your bed. He sits down by your legs and places the ice on your ankle. “Here, keep this on for 15 minutes and then off for 15 minutes. Then repeat as much as possible.” 
“Who’d you talk to?” You ask.
“I called the local doctor. If it gets worse you have to do a checkup, but for now, you just have to rest. Try not to walk on your foot, so call for me if you need anything.” He looks at you briefly before standing up. You’ve never seen this side of Seonghwa before, and having him take care of you like this, is making you feel something strange in your stomach. 
You look up at him from the bed, not knowing what to say. “Thank you.” You barely whisper.
He sends you a quick and awkward smile before he turns around and walks out of your room. He closes the door behind him, and you realize you’re stuck in bed after a fall, just like last year. You sigh, annoyed that this happened, but there isn’t much you can do about it. 
Laying in your bed, you suddenly feel your eyes getting heavier. It isn’t like you have anywhere else to go, so you use this opportunity to close your eyes and take a nap. It doesn’t take long for you to fall asleep, and you allow yourself to sleep until you wake up.
***
It’s still bright outside when your eyes open, but when you look at the clock on your nightstand, you realize that you’ve been sleeping for a few hours. You don’t hear a sound from the rest of the house, and you wonder if Seonghwa left or if he’s asleep as well.
There’s still a sharp pain in your ankle, the ice has melted a bit. You sigh and look around the room. There isn't much to do when you’re stuck here. But the dryness in your mouth tempts you to leave your bed and get something to drink.
You know Seonghwa said to call for him if you needed anything, but a quick run to the kitchen couldn’t cause any more damage to your ankle, right? Besides, maybe he’s sleeping, and you don’t want to wake him up.
You manage to get out of bed, limping down the silent hallway. Thankful for the staircase, it helps you take it slow and hold you as you make your way down the stairs. It does hurt when you put pressure on it, but not as much as the fall last year. 
Finally, you make your way to the kitchen. It’s a little cold down here, so you want to prepare something hot. Drinking hot drinks after skiing reminds you of when you were younger. The feeling of the warmth running through your body and-
“What part of ‘call me if you need anything’ didn’t you understand?” Seonghwa’s voice makes you jump and you look behind you to see him enter the kitchen.
“I was just getting something to drink.” You mumble, standing by the cabinet to get a mug.
“You can’t walk on your foot.” He sounds like an annoyed dad as he finds a stool and places it by the kitchen island. He cocks his head towards the stool and you sit down on it. He’s showing a very bossy side of himself, and you’re not sure how to respond to it.
“I made it down here, didn’t I?” You mumble mostly to yourself, but he hears and sighs deeply.
“It’s not gonna heal if you walk,” He makes his way to the fridge and looks inside. “What do you want?”
“Hot cocoa.”
He looks back at you. “You couldn’t have said water?” His brow shoots up, looking slightly annoyed, but you shake your head.
“You asked what I want and I want hot cocoa.” Your voice is talking at a low volume, and you’re sure that if you were a dog, your ears would be hanging low and your tail would be between your legs. Seonghwa takes a second to think for himself, watching you before another sigh leaves him. 
“I guess I’m making you hot cocoa then.” He tilts his head to the side before grabbing a mug and finding the ingredients to make you some hot cocoa. You don’t say much as he prepares it, enjoying seeing him do something like this for you. 
“I thought since I lost our bet that I was being your servant for the day.” You tease, trying to fill the heavy air with some conversation.
“Well, that was before you decided to fall and make yourself useless,” He looks back at you and sends you a teasing smirk. “Besides, I’ll just save it for another day. Don’t think I’ll forget, sunshine.” 
You can't help but smile at his teasing. Usually, you want to rip his hair out, but right now, you're actually enjoying being in the same room as him.
He’s making your hot cocoa, and you feel slightly useless, sitting and staring at him. The couch is in your sight, so you step down from the stool, but as soon as your (healthy) foot touches the floor, Seonghwa’s eyes are on you. He stares at you as you freeze, scared you’ve done something wrong.
“What?” You ask. 
“Where are you going?” He’s quick to ask back.
“To the.. couch, if that’s okay with you?” 
Seonghwa doesn’t waste a second, dropping the tablespoon on the counter, taking you up bridal style again, and walking towards the couch.
“Seonghwa, you don’t have to do this,” You know saying it won’t make him stop. He’s as stubborn as you. He carefully puts you down on the couch, raising your leg so it rests on the extended part of the couch before he runs back to the kitchen. He appears a few seconds later with your hot cocoa in hand and places it on the table in front of you. “Thank you.”
“Anything else?” He asks, standing up in front of you. You look behind him at the TV, your eyes catching the remote lying on top of a shelf behind him.
“The remote..” You point.
He hands you the remote. “Alright.. If I see you walking by yourself again I’ll chain you to the couch, understood?” He looks you deep in the eyes, and for some reason, you almost think he’s serious. 
“Yes, sir.” You say teasingly, and he scoffs at you before disappearing again with a smile. 
A smile that looks dangerously good.
***
Every year you go out to have dinner at the fancy restaurant in the city close to the cottage. But due to your little stunt on the mountain yesterday, you all had to go for dinner today, as you couldn’t possibly use your foot. But it’s already getting better, and it isn’t as swollen as yesterday, so you felt even more ready for a nice evening out.
Maybe all the carrying from Seonghwa did help after all.
It’s also a fun excuse to dress up for a night and eat delicious food, so you remembered to pack the fancy dress you bought for this special occasion. A maroon-colored dress with a bare back, dropped shoulders and it hugs your body perfectly, ending on the middle of your thighs. You look in the mirror one last time before making your way downstairs to the others. It’s fun to see your parents in their fancy attire, looking like they just fell in love with each other again. 
You smile to yourself as you look around and immediately notice a set of eyes staring you down.
Seonghwa is leaning against the back of one of the couches, adjusting the cuffs on his shirt as his gaze falls on you. You can't help but smirk in response. His eyes meet yours, and you can't resist glancing down at his attire.
He is in his black blazer with black pants, but instead of a regular button-down underneath, he is wearing something a runway model would wear. A white silk shirt with ruffles and lace is showing under his jacket, and no part of you is surprised by his choice of clothes. Whenever he can wear something a little different, he will, and he always pulls it off. 
Is he the biggest pain in the ass? Absolutely. 
Is he also very attractive? Oh, absolutely.
It’s actually irritating how beautiful this man is, but no way in hell you would ever tell him that. He knows he looks good, no need to boost his ego.
You decide to look away from him before you make yourself too obvious, as you get the sense that it’s time to leave soon. You decide to wait outside by the door as you’re waiting for the two families to leave. Suddenly, a presence is standing next to you, but you don’t need to look to see who joined you.
“Like what you’re seeing?” You ask teasingly, not even sparing him a glance.
“You look like my dream girl.” Seonghwa says confidently as he steps in front of you, looking down into your eyes.
His tall frame takes up most of the space in your sight, and you look up to meet his dark eyes. For some unknown reason you feel your heart beating faster, and it only increases when he puts some hair behind your ear.
“Really?” You manage to get out.
“I never said what kind of dream,” he says, slowly leaning in to whisper in your ear. “You’re my fucking nightmare.”
Seonghwa leans back to send you a wink along with a smirk before turning around to walk away and enter one of the cars waiting outside, leaving you behind, baffled. You almost want to laugh at how ridiculous he is, mentally cursing yourself for showing a slight reaction to his words. You brush off the feeling inside you and you enter another car waiting outside to take you to the restaurant in the city. 
You all drive for a few minutes, each family in each car, before entering the city with Christmas lights hanging everywhere. The restaurant is also decorated outside with lights, a group of Christmas carols singing on the other side of the street. 
It’s not like you’re from a rich family that goes to expensive restaurants a lot, but this was a tradition you’ve always shared with the Parks, so you would of course do it again this year. 
A male waiter follows you to your table, and you notice it’s a rather busy night, not seeing a single empty table. Christmas lights are decorating the ceiling, as well as generic Christmas instrumentals fill the air. A table for five comes into view with lit-up candles, and you find your way to the end. Your parents are busy talking with Seonghwa’s dad, laughing at something that happened before you arrived earlier today, leaving you in your own world. The waiter hands out a menu for you, and you can’t help but notice how his eyes linger on you for a few seconds, his dimples showing when you make eye contact. You can’t help but smile back at his warm eyes, feeling the heat in your cheeks. He disappears again after having handed out the menus to the rest of the table, and you look across the table by chance and notice how Seonghwa’s eyes are staring at you. 
Something you can’t read is evident in his gaze, but you choose to quickly shoot your eyes to the menu. For some unknown reason, Seonghwa is making looking at him harder than usual, and you can’t exactly pinpoint what it is. 
A few moments pass, and the waiter comes back to take everyone's orders. He saves you for last, sending you a warm smile.
“And what can I get for you, miss?” His dimples even show when he’s talking. 
“I’m torn between the smoked salmon and the scallops.. Do you have a recommendation?” You send him a smile.
“Ohh, that’s a tough one.. Personally, I would be in for salmon, so that would be my choice. But that depends on you, of course.” He smirks, trying to continue the casual talk between you. You’re too lost in your conversation with him, figuring out what to eat, to realize the piercing eyes across from you. Seonghwa’s eyes shoot between you and the waiter, for some reason feeling annoyed with him. 
You end up choosing the smoked salmon, and handing him back the menu. A wink is sent in your direction before he makes his way to the kitchen. Casual talk then spreads across the table. Mr. Park looks in your direction, wanting to hear how you’ve been doing since the last time you spoke.
“I’ve been doing very well, Mr. Park, thank you for asking.” You respond to the kind man across the table.
“That’s good! And you’re still enjoying your job?” 
"Definitely. It is a bit far away though, so my car is very necessary. But it is having a hard time driving, especially in the winter months, so I’m considering saving up for a new car or finding a job a bit closer.” You answer, your parents adding to the conversation and carrying it on. 
“Maybe you should ask the waiter what he thinks you should do.” Seonghwa says across from you, low enough not to cause any attention to him from the rest of the table, but you hear him loud and clear. 
Your eyes glare at him, but he only responds with an annoying smile. You roll your eyes, trying to focus on the conversation between your parents. 
A few moments later your food arrives, and the salmon is placed in front of you. You all start eating, and you do your best to ignore the eyes looking at you from time to time across the table. 
Giving him attention will only make it worse, you think.
“How are you enjoying the salmon, miss?” A voice speaks behind you, and you look up to see the waiter sending you another smile. Cheeks heating up again, you do your best to answer confidently. 
“It’s really good, definitely the right decision.” 
“I’m glad, personally it’s my favorite item on the menu.” He tells you.
“I totally understand why, the greens on the side really complement it as well.” You add to the conversation. The kind waiter is about to answer when a voice interrupts.
“Waiter?” Seonghwa’s voice cuts through, stealing your attention. “I ordered my steak to be medium-well, this steak is cooked medium-rare.” He points at his food, eying the waiter.
An apologetic expression spreads on the waiter's face. “Oh, I’m sorry, sir. I’ll take it back to the kitchen for you.” He sends Seonghwa the best smile he can manage, before disappearing into the kitchen with Seonghwa’s food.
“Why did you do that?” Your eyes are locked on Seonghwa, trying to speak in a low voice so you won’t draw attention.
“I just want what I ordered.” Seonghwa shrugs before bringing his wine glass to his lips. 
“There’s no need to be an ass about it.” 
A smirk tugs on Seonghwa’s lips. “Aww, I’m sorry.. Am I making it hard for your boyfriend?”
“What is wrong with you?”
"What do you mean?" He asks.
"Would it kill you to see me be just a little happy?"
A scoff leaves his mouth. “Welcome to the real world. Maybe you’ll notice how everything isn’t perfect, sunshine.”
You want to reach across the table and rip that annoying smile off his face. Everything inside of you is boiling, even looking at him is making you feel insane. It takes everything in you not to say something rude because you’re all adults here (even if some aren't acting like it) and you want this trip to have good memories. 
You grab your wine glass and gulp down the last bit before heading to the bathrooms. 5 minutes away from Seonghwa would be enough not to scream at him. 
Luckily it isn’t filled with people in the bathroom, letting you get some time to breathe for yourself. 
You knew Seonghwa had gone through a hard time the last few years since his mom died, so you somehow always had an apology for him in your head, why he was acting like he was. But he was going personal tonight, and you didn’t know why. It wasn’t an excuse to be an asshole. 
You saw the rage in your eyes as you looked at yourself, but suddenly, your attention was stolen by the door opening to the bathroom. Seonghwa’s large frame entered the room, your eyes rolling at the sight of him.
“Did I say something to trigger you?” He spoke in a low voice.
“You do that all the time, Seonghwa. Don’t act like this is any different.” You didn’t spare him a glance as you spoke, keeping your eyes on yourself in the mirror.
“You haven’t walked away like that since I said your hair looked as fried as a burnt fry at McDonald's.” He calls back to a moment a few years ago when you were also fed up with his teasing. It wasn’t even that deep of a comment, you were just not feeling it that day.
“I guess I’m not in the mood for this right now.” You respond with a lower voice. Through the mirror, you look to see if any of the stalls are taken and if anyone is listening to your conversation. It doesn’t look like it. “Also, you’re in the women's bathroom. You can’t be here.”
“Well, I upset you and wanted to talk it out.”
A part of you wants to laugh. Never have those words left his mouth.
“How mature of you.”
“I’m sorry.” His footsteps are coming closer to you, and suddenly you see him in the mirror behind you. He actually sounds like he’s apologizing, and not saying this mockingly. It catches you off guard for a few seconds, but you make eye contact with him through the mirror. He’s watching you carefully like he’s afraid to say something else to upset you.
“Didn’t think you were capable of apologizing.” You want to joke, but the air between you is too heavy.
“Maybe you’ll learn some new things about me on this trip.” He says with his hands resting in the front pockets of his pants. 
“Maybe.” You shrug, finally turning around towards him. “If anything, you should apologize to the waiter.” You can’t help but feel sorry for the waiter, having to run around because of Seonghwa.
“I don’t care about the waiter.” His voice is cold.
“And you care about me?” You say with a laugh, expecting him to say ‘no’ immediately, but when silence surrounds the two of you, you suddenly don’t know what to say. His eyes are just watching you, studying your face and it makes you feel a certain way you haven’t felt before. A feeling you can't pinpoint what is. 
“You know what this dress needs?” He suddenly says, completely changing the subject.
“What?”
“A necklace.” He looks down on your bare neck. 
You know this dress calls for a necklace, and you mentally cursed at yourself when you realized you had left your bag of jewelry on your desk. Luckily, that is the only thing you’ve forgotten (hopefully).
“I forgot all of my jewelry at home.” You shrug.
His eyes focus on your neck for a short moment before he reaches behind his own neck. Suddenly, a necklace you didn’t know he was wearing came into sight and he held it out in front of him. A silver necklace with white pearl pendants.
“Turn around.”
You shake your head. “I’m not wearing your-”
“Turn around.” He says more firmly, and you do as he says. Your eyes focus on your neck as he places the necklace on you, and you immediately notice how well it compliments your dress. Seonghwa’s warm fingers lightly touch the back of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. This feels incredibly intimate, especially because you notice the way his eyes roam over you.
“It was my mothers.” Seonghwa says in almost a whisper, eyes still locked on your neck through the mirror. Your breath hitches, suddenly feeling like you shouldn’t be wearing this.
“Seonghwa.. I can’t wear this.” Your fingers touch the pendant. 
“I know she would’ve loved to see you in it.” A small smile tugs on his lips, obviously thinking about his mom. You don’t know what to say. His mom was the nicest woman you’ve ever met, and you do miss her dearly. You can’t even imagine how Seonghwa feels. “She really liked you, you know.” His eyes dart up, meeting yours through the mirror. 
“I liked her too.” You send him a smile, remembering all the good times you've shared with her.
“And I know she would've chopped my hands off if she knew I made you upset. So I’m genuinely sorry.” He looks apologetic, not an ounce of teasing evident in his voice. You’ve never shared a moment like this with him, and if you were close, you would’ve hugged him and told him everything was okay. But you can’t remember the last time you shared affection with him, so you just try your best to send him a smile through the mirror.
“Thank you.” Your voice is a whisper, and he steps closer to you to remove some hair on your shoulder. This makes the necklace more apparent on your neck, and you smile at the view. “It’s beautiful.”
You just now notice how close you are to him, slightly feeling his front against your bare back. He has a perfect height when he stands next to you, and even more when he stands behind you like now. 
His eyes are all over you through the mirror, and the feeling is not something you ever expected to feel so exciting. You can’t help but look back at him, seeing how good his suit looks on him. You stare at the shirt he’s wearing under his jacket, and in this light, you notice that it’s made of sheer fabric, making it slightly see-through. 
You hate how much you’re staring, but you can’t help it. And when he’s staring back at you, the same look in his eyes, you know you’re in too deep.
The door to the bathroom suddenly opens, and a lady stops at the door, looking confused as if she didn't think she entered the right bathroom. Seonghwa looks at her and then back to you through the mirror.
“I better go.” He says above a whisper, looking down at you one last time before heading out of the bathroom. You don’t pay any attention to the lady entering, only focused on what just happened between you and Seonghwa. 
It takes you a moment to get back to your senses, but you eventually get there and head back to your table.
The rest of the dinner went differently. Every time you looked across the table, you'd meet Seonghwa's eyes. You'd both hold the gaze for longer than you'd anticipate, feeling heat in your cheeks before darting your eyes away from him.
You didn’t see much of the waiter for the rest of the night, Seonghwa probably scaring him away from your table. 
When you made it home to the cottage, you all started getting ready for bed. It was getting late, and you were getting tired as well. Coming up from the stairs, you walked towards your room, when suddenly a hand grabbed your wrist. Surprised, you stop your tracks and look to see Seonghwa appear from his room. His eyes met yours in an instant, standing close to you.
“I apologized to the waiter. Happy?” He said with a low voice. He almost sounds defeated, like he lost an important battle, but you can’t help but enjoy it a little bit.
“I didn’t think you cared about him?” You said, finding it new that he’s apologizing.
“I don’t, not in the slightest. Couldn’t care less about what he’s feeling.” He shrugged, and you wanted to roll your eyes before he spoke again. “But I’m trying to do the right thing here. Even if I was just making him do his job, I could’ve been a little nicer. I’ll admit.” He kept the eye contact and the soft grasp around your wrist, making you focus on him.
A smile spreads on your lips. “Should I get used to this? You apologizing? Because I kinda like it.” You tease. He scoffs, looking down at you with the same look in his eyes as earlier. The one where he studies you to the smallest details, somehow making you nervous. 
“A little dangerous starting to like something that has to do with me, don’t you think?” He teases back, a smirk growing on his face. The dimmed light in the hallway makes everything seem slightly more intimate, and with the way you’re feeling when he’s looking at you like this, you know you have to keep your shit together. 
This is Park Seonghwa. 
Yes, he has helped you with your ankle and whatever.
But you’d never be able to actually get along. You’re built to argue with him. Tease, mock, pick on, just like he does with you. The two of you don’t know any better, but somehow, looking at him right now, you can’t do that. You don’t even know what to do, because you’ve never felt this way when looking at him. 
And it’s a brand new territory.
His free hand raises, and you do nothing but wait to see where it lands, when he suddenly traces his finger from your jaw and down to your neck. You feel the necklace move under his touch, suddenly reminded that you’re wearing it. 
“Oh, the necklace.” You put your hands behind your neck to take it off, but Seonghwa shakes his head, taking your hands down. 
“Let me.” He says, and you turn around, collecting your hair to one side. Waiting for him to take it off, you suddenly feel his hands on your waist, turning you slightly so he has better light. But the feeling of his hands on your waist makes your heart beat faster, leaving burning marks where his fingers touched. His fingers are on your skin as he removes the necklace sends shivers down your spine, and the necklace is gone. 
But Seonghwa notices the way you’re reacting to his touch, smiling to himself as you turn back around to face him. 
“Thanks for letting me borrow it.” You smile.
“Always.” 
With one last look, you decide to go into your room, scared of what could happen if you stayed out there any longer. 
***
You took a deep breath as you sat down on the bench at the end of the ski slope. You took a moment to watch people coming down the mountain on their skis or snowboards while you enjoyed finally being out again.
You had looked forward to this, spending the entire day here. This was one of the main reasons you even visited this cottage every year. To ski and have fun.
What you didn’t expect was the intense pain.
In your ankle? no.
Or a little, but the pain was mostly in your stomach due to your period. 
You didn’t think it would be arriving while being on this trip, but of course, it had to arrive at this time. Therefore, you didn’t have anything prepared, other than a few emergency pads. But the pain you felt was actually the worst, making you have to take a break.
You look up to see a person get close at an awfully fast speed on their snowboard, making you think they’ll crash into you but they stop right in front of you, making snow splash everywhere. You don’t have to think twice to recognize Seonghwa’s attire in front of you.
“Asshole.” You mumble as Seonghwa takes off his helmet, smiling at his own little stunt.
“You okay?” He asks, noticing the slight discomfort on your face.
“Yeah, it’s just… my ankle.” You lie. You didn’t feel like sharing with Seonghwa what was really hurting you. And your ankle did hurt a bit, so it wasn’t a complete lie. But it was definitely mostly the pain in your stomach that held you from being on the slopes right now.
“Is it getting worse?” Seonghwa asks, suddenly being back to being your doctor. 
“Yeah.” You respond, not exactly knowing what to say.
“Are you okay, honey?” Your mom suddenly appears in her ski attire, walking over to you and Seonghwa. 
“I’m fine.” You respond shortly.
“It’s her ankle.” Seonghwa says, making you want to throw a snowball in his face. Not only because it wasn’t the entire truth, but also because you know how much your mom is concerned about your ankle. You knew she wasn’t a fan of you being on the slopes already, scared that you might get as hurt as last year.
Your mom looks at you with worry. “Darling, you should take your time to heal.” She walks closer to you. “I don’t think skiing is a good idea..” Your mom doesn't hide the look on her face. You know she’s saying this with pure love, but you don’t know what else to do. This is what you came for. But she didn’t want you to get hurt, not any more than you already are.
“What else can I do?” You ask.
“You can drive to the city?” She sounds optimistic like it’s the funniest thing to do in an area filled with slopes and snow.
“To do what?” 
“I need some new ornaments for the tree. You can drive to the city and pick some for us.” She makes it sound like it’s the best idea ever. And you’ll admit; it was better than staying home while everyone else is out in the snow. 
“Fine..” 
“I’ll come with you.” Seonghwa suddenly adds to the conversation, and you and your mom both look at him.
“Are you sure?” Your mom asks, sounding slightly confused since she knows how you and Seonghwa never spend time together voluntarily. 
“Yeah, I’m getting a little sore from all the snowboarding, I could use a break,” He smiles at your mom. “Besides, with her luck, falling two years in a row, I think it’s a good idea to have someone keep an eye on her.” He smirks in your direction, but you only send back an obvious fake smile. 
Your mom’s face, on the other hand, lights up like a Christmas tree. It’s a tradition for your mom to get a new ornament for the Christmas tree every year, so you know this means more for her than it does for the rest of you. It was a tradition she shared with Seonghwa’s mom, but your mom continued it like she still had her best friend to do it with.
“Amazing! Can’t wait to see what you guys bring back.”
***
The trip to the city went as you’d expect. It wasn’t the best time of your life, but it was nice to finally be outside. You got to see the city in daylight, but it was definitely prettier in the nighttime with all the lights lighting up the sky. 
With Seonghwa’s help, you found seven ornaments - one for each of you. You picked one for yourself and your parents, while Seonghwa picked one for himself, his dad, his sister, and his mom. They were simple, the designs looking like they were supposed to be snowflakes, but they all looked different.
While Seonghwa paid for the ornaments, you looked at other Christmas decorations. There were all kinds of decorations, everything from the most elegant and minimalistic to the downright ugly. 
You stood with an elf in your hands, admiring how cute it was when another wave of pain suddenly hit your lower region. Despite living with it for years, you somehow never get used to it. You winced in pain, trying to keep a straight face when you suddenly felt a hand on your shoulder.
“You alright?” Seonghwa sounded worried, but you just nodded. You put down the elf and put on your best smile.
“I’m fine, don’t worry about it.” 
As he opens the door for you, he still looks worried. You make your way to your car, and he unlocks it. Just as you grab the handle, you're hit with another wave of pain. You hold yourself on the stomach, slightly leaning forward, hoping to ease the discomfort. You quickly try to ignore the feeling and get into the car.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Seonghwa looks at you from the driver’s seat. “Are you sick? Is it your ankle?” The questions fly out of him like there’s no tomorrow, but you shake your head, not wanting to draw attention.
“No, no.. It’s fine. Just go.” 
“Do you need to pee? Are you hungry? Do you-”
“For the love of all great things, just drive, Seonghwa.” You don’t mean to make it sound rude, but the words left your mouth before you could even think.
Seonghwa responds with a deep sigh, before starting the car. “We need to get gas before we continue on, we’re running out.” 
Silence fills the air as he drives to a gas station not far away from the city. He gets out of the car and starts filling it up with the gas you need. A short moment goes by before he opens the door to reach for his wallet, but you stop him.
“I can pay for the gas.” You say, looking for your wallet in your bag. 
“It’s fine, I’ll pay. Wait here.” His voice is cold and you watch him as he makes his way into the gas station. You sigh to yourself, annoyed that you lash out without thinking, when in fact, Seonghwa was just being nice. He was probably just worried about your foot like he had been ever since you fell. He has never shown this amount of worry for you, so it did surprise you when he took so much care of you and volunteered to drive with you to the city. 
You’re too focused on your thoughts to notice Seonghwa coming back, and entering the car. You look at him but are suddenly surprised when a small white bag is placed on your lap. He turns on the engine and drives away from the gas station. 
Curious and confused, you look in the bag, and you can’t believe what you see. It’s filled with Advils, chocolate bars, juice, water, pads, and a package of menstrual cramp relief heating pads. 
You have no idea how to react. Emotions everywhere, you almost want to cry, but you don’t. You just look at him and stare at his side profile as he focuses on driving your car.
“Thank you..” You say with a low voice.
“You’re welcome.”
Another silence.
“How did you know?” You ask.
“I’ve grown up with a mom and an older sister. I’m very much aware of periods and that people with periods go through pain.” His voice is turning softer as he speaks, not as cold as before. You look into the bag again and grab the heating pads, not sure how to use them.
You’ve used your heating pillow for ages, but of course, forgot to bring it on the trip.
“They heat up and relax the muscles in your lower abdomen so you’ll be in less pain,” Seonghwa explains like he knows how to read your mind. “I’ve heard. I haven’t tried it for myself, for obvious reasons, but my sister always uses these.” His gaze shifts between the heating pads in your hands and the road.
“Thank you..” You say once again. You feel like you’re thanking him a lot on this trip. “And I’m sorry.” You look at him, feeling bad for snapping at him when he just wanted to know if you were okay. His eyes meet yours, and after a few seconds, he sends you a smile.
“It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.” 
The annoying smile of his sends a feeling to your stomach again. The same warm, strange feeling you also felt earlier with him this week. Your breath hitches from the feeling, and you shake your head to yourself.
It’s nothing.
Don’t think about it.
***
The day after, you decided to take things a bit slow. You wanted to join the others on the slopes, but your body was simply too worn out. But that didn’t stop you from spending time at the café, located at the bottom of the slope. You decided to bring a book as you sat in the corner, watching people enter from being up on the slopes. They were all in their ski attire, ready to conquer the slopes after getting something to drink. 
The door to the cozy cafe opened and you'd recognize that helmet anywhere. Seonghwa entered by himself, taking the helmet off his head as he walked to the desk to order. You saw his eyes roaming the café, so you decided to focus on your book, deciding to look busy. You only read a few lines before a voice caught your attention.
“Hey, sunshine,” Seonghwa’s voice said, placing his helmet on the other bench at your table. “What are you doing here?”
“Got bored at the cottage.” You shrug.
He took off his big jacket and placed it on one of your seats as well. “Mind if I join you here?” Seonghwa asks as he basically has already taken over half the space at your table.
“No, go ahead.” You answer before he goes back to the desk to order. Your eyes are about to scan the book again when a new voice interrupts.
“Excuse me..” The voice says, and you look up to see a girl around the same age as you. She looks sweet and pretty, and very innocent. “Sorry, but are you dating him?” She asks shyly while pointing at Seonghwa. 
“Uhm, no.” You shake your head, slightly confused.
“Do you know if he’s dating anyone?”
“I don't think so.” You explain, telling her the truth. You have no idea what his dating life is like, but you don't think he is.
“Oh, okay.. I just didn’t want to shoot my shot if you were his girlfriend.” She smiles, before excusing herself again. Your eyes watch as she approaches Seonghwa, but you’re unable to hear what is being said between them. All you see is Seonghwa suddenly darting his eyes at you as the girl is speaking, and you look back into your book. You’re not getting further with your book, because Seonghwa comes back not long after.
“Here.” He says as he places a mug of hot cocoa in front of you. He puts one down for himself as well before sitting down at the table. You don’t recall asking him to get you this, but the fact that he did it was nice.. or whatever.
“Thank you,” Your eyes scan the cocoa, topped with whipped cream and cinnamon. “So.. Did you get her number?” You ask, eying him carefully to hear his response.
“What?” He responded like he didn’t just talk to a girl who was clearly interested in him.
“That girl.. She came to me and asked if you were dating anyone and wanted to shoot your shot with you. So?”
He shook his head, grabbing a spoon to scoop some whipped cream from his drink. “I didn’t get her number. I thanked her for the opportunity, but I’m not interested.”
You don’t know why but this makes you slightly confused. Everyone could tell that Seonghwa was a beautiful human being, and it’s not the first time you've seen someone attempt to flirt with him. This makes you realize that you don’t know anything about his relationships, hookups, or people he has crushed on in the past. He had never brought anyone with him as his partner, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have one. You’ve just never heard about them.
“Why? You have someone waiting at home?” You ask, feeling weirdly comfortable having this conversation.
“I don’t know, do I?” A smirk tugs on his lips before he brings the spoon with whipped cream to his mouth. Your brows shoot together, feeling confused. 
“How should I know?” You ask as you grab a spoonful of whipped cream as well. 
“I don’t know. But to answer your question; I’m not interested in anyone. As I’ve said before, you’re the only one that can handle me.” The smirk only grows on his face, and you know what he’s doing. 
It wasn’t new for Seonghwa to throw these kinds of comments your way, especially with a smirk evident on his face. He knows sending flirty remarks your way would make you uncomfortable (in the beginning), but you’ve gotten so used to it that you can’t help but laugh. It’s obvious that he only does it to be annoying, but a sarcastic laugh still finds its way out of you.
“Right, could you imagine? Us dating?” You joke.
“Would it be terrible?” He asks, teeth showing from smiling.
“We would rip off each other's heads within a week.” You answer confidently. 
“What would you do if we got married?”
“Divorce you.”
This makes him laugh, a sound that is so incredibly addicting that it’s annoying. Yet you can't help but smile.
“See that’s what I mean. Only you would say that.” Seonghwa argues like he’s actually serious about this topic.
“Like you wouldn’t do the same.” You roll your eyes, scooping another spoonful of whipped cream. You knew that if you and Seonghwa were married, it would probably turn into a competition of who could sign the divorce papers first. Yes, you and Seonghwa have gotten closer on this trip, and you’ll admit; he has been doing some very nice things to you. But you’re convinced he would never actually consider taking this a step further. You’re not his type, you know that. 
Seonghwa leans forward towards you, speaking in a volume that makes this seem like an important topic.
“Be honest with me, you couldn’t ever see us dating?”
The fact that he’s still talking about this, is making you question everything.
“I don’t know, is it important?” You shrug.
“It’s a simple question.” He leans his head slightly to the side, questioning you. 
“Could you see us dating?” You ask back.
“I asked you first.”
He leans back in his seat, waiting for your answer. The answer is simple, right? Yet you don’t know why you’re not spitting out a hard “no”. Instead, you’re taking your time, reading his body language, trying to figure out how to answer this the best way.
“I mean.. There’s a lot of things to take into consideration when talking about topics like that- what?” You ask in the middle of your sentence when you see a smile growing on his face like he’s entertained.
“Just answer yes or no.” 
“Then… No.” You finally answer.
“Why not?” 
Growing tired of him questioning you about this like it’s actually important, you release a deep sigh and close your book. “Because you’re a menace 92% of the time.” 
The topic is making your hands sweaty and your mouth dry for some unknown reason. You grab your hot cocoa after eating most of the whipped cream on top, blowing on the drink so you won’t burn yourself. 
“And the remaining 8%?” He asks, also taking his hot cocoa in his hands.
You scan his face for a moment, trying to figure out the best answer without boosting his ego too much. “You’re bearable.”
“I can work with that.” He shrugs with a smirk before taking a sip of his drink.
***
Seonghwa decided to join you on your way back to the cottage after drinking the hot cocoa. You don’t mind it, now having a feeling that you can actually have a normal conversation with him.
It’s a Christmas miracle. 
“Have you ever watched the Gringe? You two are like the same person.” Seonghwa enters the living room and throws himself on the couch next to you.
Nevermind.
You roll your eyes, not sparing him a glance. "Funny." You say. 
You fix the heating pad on your stomach, feeling the pain slowly fading away. He notices your hands on your stomach and the crumbled chocolate wrap next to you.
“You know, there’s another way to get rid of period pain.” He says, and you feel his eyes on you. 
"I can’t believe that I’m asking you, out of all people, but what?” You turn your head to look at him, and a smirk suddenly makes its way to his lips.
“Orgasms.”
You throw your head back along with a deep sigh. “You just had to, didn’t you? You just had to make it sexual?” Your reaction makes him laugh, a sound you’ve gotten awfully used to the last few days. 
“I’m being deadly serious, though. It’s scientifically proven.” He sits up more straight and turns to look at you. “It obviously doesn’t have to be done by a partner, you can do it by yourself. I’m just saying..” He ends it with a shrug and holds his hands up in defense.
“Well thank you, but no thank you.”
“Just thought I’d share my knowledge with you.. Also to let you know that I completely understand if the pain gets too much and you need to.. you know.” The smirk is evident in his voice, but you just send him a glare.
“I repeat.. Thank you, but no thank you.”
“Alright..” He lies down on the couch again and a silence surrounds you. You turn your head to look at him but are met with a smirk and you don’t have to think twice to know what he’s thinking about. 
“Seonghwa, I will knock you on your fat ass if you even think about it.”
Another laugh escapes him, and you can’t help but smile at the sound. “Alright, alright.. Sorry.”
Before you actually knock him out, your parents enter the cottage along with Seonghwa’s dad. Not even a minute goes by before your mom is in the living room, a huge smile on her face and eyes on you.
“Honey! You never guess what happened!” Her excitement steals both your and Seonghwa’s attention. “We were at the ski resort, and we met the waiter from dinner the other night!” She’s practically jumping and clapping, overly excited about this.
“Oh, really?” You say, slightly confused. You haven’t thought much about the waiter since the dinner. He was really cute and seemed to give you a new form of attention, but for some reason, your mind has been a little.. occupied the last few days.
“Yes, and he immediately recognized us and he asked for your number!” Her words almost make your eyes pop out of your skull.
“My number?” 
“I wasn’t sure if you wanted it, but I saw the way he looked at you at dinner,” She wiggled her eyebrows, acting like the ultimate wingwoman. “Instead I asked for his on your behalf, then you can text him if you’d like. He said he would like to take you to dinner before we leave.” She handed you a napkin with a number and his name on it, and you looked at it for a few seconds, contemplating how you should feel.
“Oh.. Cool, thanks.”
You were happy, of course you were. A guy who looks incredibly cute is requesting to take you out to dinner. What’s not to like?
But for some reason, a teeny tiny piece of you don’t want this. But a dinner with him won’t hurt anyone, right? 
***
It’s been a few days since you got the waiter’s phone number. You made the decision to text him later that night, thanking him for being such a good waiter on the first night. The conversation then escalated to him inviting you to dinner the day after tomorrow, on the 23rd. A lot of thoughts roamed your mind, wondering if you should do it or not. He was really nice, and seemed like a good guy, so why weren’t you ecstatic about this?
You ended up saying yes, throwing yourself out there. It’s just a date. Besides, he probably lives in the area and you live a few hours away. Most likely, this won’t even work out, but a fun night out could be needed.
You’ve also had a nice few days, feeling extremely happy. Your period is over, your ankle is feeling better and everyone seems to be in a good mood. The other day, your mom even commented on the fact that you and Seonghwa aren’t bickering as much as you used to. You didn’t know what to say about that, quickly changing the topic of conversation.
It’s not like you had an answer to that, anyway. 
You walk down the stairs, about to head to the kitchen when something catches your eye. You stop in your tracks and look into the living room. All by himself, Seonghwa is standing next to the Christmas tree, looking at one specific ornament. Slowly, you make your way towards him, watching as his fingers trace the ornament.
“Hi.” You say in a low volume, trying not to startle him. He looks back at you, putting on his best smile, but you can tell something is roaming his mind.
“Hey.” His gaze returns to the ornament, and you quickly realize it’s the one he chose for his mom when you and him were shopping for Christmas ornaments. It’s elegant, simple, and definitely her style.
“It’s pretty.” You say, keeping your eyes on the snowflake.
“Yeah.. I feel like she would have chosen this one.” Seonghwa’s eyes still don't leave it, and he’s watching it with so much love. Like he’s actually looking at his mom.
“She did. Through you.” You look away from the ornament and turn to look at him. Even more love shines through his eyes, and you can’t stop looking at him. You can tell he is thinking about his mom and all she did for him - which was a lot. She was a wonderful mom who did anything for her kids. When Seonghwa was a kid, she never missed a football game, she supported him and his sister with everything and kept a smile on her face during anything. 
“She loved Christmas,” Seonghwa says, clearly thinking of memories with his mom. “She loved coming here to the cottage, celebrating the holidays with you and your family. It was when she was the happiest.” His gaze finally leaves the snowflake decorating the tree, looking to meet your eyes.
You can’t help but think of the memories with her either. “She defined Christmas for me. I remember when we were visiting you guys in the summertime, she would make us look through the photo albums of earlier Christmases.” You find yourself laughing with Seonghwa at the memory, clearly remembering how much she loves Christmas.
“Yeah.. she was really into making memories. She loved it,” His smile froze before it slowly fell again, something clearly replacing the happy thoughts. “Ironic, how that’s the only thing I have of her now.” Sadness appears in his voice, as his eyes go back to the ornament. 
“That’s not true, Seonghwa,” You shake your head, suddenly getting the urge to grab his hand, but you don’t. “You have all the pictures, you wear her necklace, and you have us. And I know she’s here with us. Do you really think she wouldn’t be here with you for Christmas? She would never do that.” You have to fight yourself not to have tears in your eyes, but it gets even harder when Seonghwa looks at you with glistening eyes. 
Seonghwa takes in a deep breath of air and looks up at the ceiling. He blinks a few times like he’s trying his best not to cry in front of you, but you somehow wish he would. You want him to know that it’s okay. That it’s okay to cry and miss her. Because you do too, and you can’t even imagine how much pain he feels every day, not being able to touch her. Talk to her. Be with her.
He releases his breath of air and looks back down at you. “Thank you.”
His eyes are still glistening, but it feels nice talking to him about this. You’ve never talked much about his mother’s passing, not being good at expressing emotions to one another. But this trip has opened up something for both of you, allowing you to talk about your feelings. 
Feeling slightly restless, you send him one last smile, before turning around. 
“Wait..” Seonghwa stops you before you manage to walk away, and you turn around as you wait for him to say something. His eyes flicker for a moment as he tries to figure out how to word the thoughts in his head. “I’m sorry.”
The apology came out of nowhere, making your brows shoot together in question.
“For?”
He takes another moment to collect his thoughts.
“I’m sorry for how I’ve been acting the last few..” He looks up to think but scoffs at himself. “The last few years, at this point.” He looks deep into your eyes, wanting you to know that he’s not messing around right now. “I’ve said some mean things and I’ve been way over the line and you didn’t deserve that. I guess after my mom passed, I held so much anger inside of me because I regretted so many things when it came to her. So instead of dealing with it in a healthy way, I took it out on you. And don’t ask me why, because I don’t know, honestly. Maybe it was because you reminded me of her with your kind personality and everything, and so it just made me angry that she wasn’t here..” He looked down between you, gathering his thoughts before continuing.
“Either way, it doesn’t make it okay, and I’m really sorry if I’ve said some things to upset you.. Which I know I have, but I can’t remember all of them.” Seonghwa tries to send you a smile, but it ends up looking a little awkward. 
You didn’t expect this at all. Your mouth feels dry from this big apology, not knowing what to say. A part of you always sensed that his mother’s passing triggered something in him to make him angry with you, but you didn’t know why. And it seemed like he didn’t either, but you could tell that he was genuinely sorry. 
You send him a smile, not wanting him to feel bad anymore. 
“Thank you. And I’m sorry too if I’ve ever said something back in rage.” You apologize, knowing for sure that you’ve said some things to him that weren't very nice either.
“You don’t have to apologize, I probably deserved it.” Seonghwa tries to joke, forcing a smile. “I just don’t want my mom to be disappointed with me.”
Once again, your heart breaks for him. You know how much she meant to him.
“Seonghwa, your mom was an amazing and beautiful woman. She raised you and your sister to be good people, and you are. The two of us have not always gotten along the best, but if it wasn’t for you, I probably wouldn’t even be able to stand up right now, hadn’t you taken so much care of my ankle. You bought me a bunch of stuff to help me get through my period. Or last year when I fell on my skis and I couldn’t walk, I know you were the one who bought me my favorite brownies because no one knows I love them but you. Or three years ago when my car crashed, you drove me to the mechanic and when I had to pay a week later, you had paid for it and asked them to lie and tell me I had won some stupid competition that made it free.”
“Why do you think I paid for it?”
“I knew something was up so I asked for the details and they couldn’t lie anymore. I saw the payment. P.S.H written with your bank account number.” You explained, making his eyes flicker.
“Well.. You didn’t have a job at the time.” He started excusing, but it only proved your point further.
“Exactly. And that’s what I mean, Seonghwa. Your mom could never be disappointed with you, because even though the two of us weren’t even friends, you still helped me, and you help everyone around you. Your mom loves you, and I know she’s watching over you with nothing but care. She would be really proud of you.” 
This is what pushes Seonghwa over the edge. He looks away from you and a sob escapes him. For the first time, you see Seonghwa cry. Not even right after his mom passed did you see him cry. But now, you see tears cover his cheeks, despite him desperately trying to hide his face with his hands. 
Doing something you’ve never done, you take a few steps closer to him and wrap your arms around his waist to hug him. This is not about the past, how much you used to fight, or if you’re even friends. Right now, he’s crying because of the loss of his mother, and you need to be there for him.
You feel Seonghwa wrap his arms around you too, fully accepting this as he tries to control his sobs. Your head is pressed against his chest, and you’re able to hear his heart pounding fast. It’s a sound so intimate and it only makes you want to be closer to him. To hear him talk for hours about what is roaming his mind, no matter how emotional it might get.
You don’t know how long you’re hugging him, but his sobs quietly die down, and his heart starts to beat at a normal pace. 
“Thank you.” He mumbles in your embrace, and you pull back to see his eyes slightly red and puffy. You’re not ready to leave him yet, not wanting him to be alone.
“Are you busy?” You suddenly ask. He seems a little taken aback by your sudden question but shakes his head.
“No.”
“Do you want to watch ‘Home Alone’ with me?” You point to the TV, thinking this would be a good way to end the day. A smile creeps up on his lips, and he nods.
“Yeah, I’d like that.”
***
Everyone has gone to bed, and after spending what feels like hours being nervous about your date in two days, you decide to head to bed. After changing into your oversized nightshirt, you carefully make your way to the bathroom. You make sure not to make too much noise so you won’t wake up the rest, and start getting ready to brush your teeth. 
Suddenly the door to the bathroom opens, and Seonghwa walks in, unaware that you’re here.
“Oh sorry, I thought you had gone to bed.” He excuses, stopping his tracks. You can’t help but notice how he’s only in his sweatpants, his bare chest visible. You have to fight everything in you not to look down at his naked torso, but it’s almost impossible. 
“I’m about to.” You say, holding the toothbrush in hand.
“Can I brush my teeth?” He asks, pointing at his toothbrush by the sink.
“Sure.” You answer, taking a step away to give him some space.. and not to be too close to him, because he looks better than you imagined, and you're not sure how to behave right now. 
He walks to the sink, and as you brush your teeth, you slowly find your eyes traveling to him. You’ve seen his chest before, but that was years ago when you went to the beach as teens. But now, seeing him as an adult, he’s completely changed. He’s slender with a thin waist, but still lean and muscles visible. His sweatpants are hanging low, making you able to see his entire abdomen and down to the top of his pelvis area through the mirror. 
Never have you seen him like this before, but it’s definitely doing something to you. You feel something in your stomach, the same thing you’ve felt before. And it’s making you want to go absolutely crazy.
But little do you know that Seonghwa is doing anything in his power not to look at you. When he walked out and saw you in your big oversized t-shirt, covering your entire upper body and stopping right at the thighs, he thought that would be the end of him. Your hair is in a messy bun and you look so cozy and comfortable in your shirt. He’s not sure if you’re wearing something underneath, but it doesn’t look like it, and that alone is making his mind go to places it shouldn’t. 
Does he feel your eyes on him? Of course, he does. 
And it’s making him go crazy.
But he can’t look at you or react, because he’s doing everything in his power to think of other things than you, or else a certain part of him would get very.. excited, and in these gray sweatpants, it will be more visible than normal. 
You finish brushing your teeth before him, and you take a step towards the sink. He’s giving you space by taking a step back, but he shouldn’t have done that. Now he has a complete view of you as you’re bending over to spit in the sink, and your shirt slightly raises, still not giving the impression that you’re wearing something underneath. 
He’s about to stop brushing his teeth so he can go back to his room, not being able to stay here a minute longer, but you’re meeting his eyes through the mirror and you send him a relaxed smile.
“Goodnight.” You say just above a whisper.
“Goodnight.” He replies, and you walk back to your room before he can leave. You didn’t get to do your skincare or brush your hair, you just had to get out of there. 
His body was looking amazing, and afraid of suddenly embarrassing yourself, you had to leave. 
After waiting for a few minutes in your room for him to leave, you finally got the chance to finish your night routine. When you opened your door, you found that the bathroom was unoccupied. So, you tiptoed your way back and completed your routine, brushing your hair, doing your nightly skincare routine, and ensuring that you are completely prepared before returning to your room.
Stepping back into the hallway, you walk past the closed door to Seonghwa’s room, but stop when you hear a certain sound. 
A soft grunt came from the other side of the door, only to be followed by a light moan. Your immediate thought is to walk away, but for some reason, you couldn’t get yourself to move. Seonghwa's voice released another moan, sounding so soft and somehow rough at the same time, and before you knew it, your thoughts were running wild. Without realizing it, you take a step closer to his door to get a better listen.
You shouldn't be doing this. But as another moan escapes from behind the door, your heart races. Seonghwa’s voice sounds so mild and soft as these moans continue on, making you picture what he looks like. 
His gray sweatpants pulled down slightly as he strokes himself. Bare chest and in his bed, eyes closed as he bites his lip to quiet down the sounds. His hair messy, possibly sweat starting to form on his forehead.
Moan.
Shivers all over your body from the picture your mind just created. You know he looks absolutely gorgeous because he always does. But this is making you go crazier than ever before, and a sudden need for him is taking over you.
A creaking from the floor underneath you woke you up from your daydreaming, and a longer pause from the moans filled the air. Panic rises inside of you, so you hurry back to your own room. Closing the door behind you, your heart beats fast against your chest. 
Not-so-innocent thoughts still roam your mind as you get under the sheets. Hopefully, he didn’t hear you outside. If he did, you’ll just say you went to the bathroom. 
But never has this happened before, making you wonder what would’ve happened if he caught you listening. 
Before you know it, you’re in a deep sleep, the last thing you think of is Seonghwa.
***
The texts between you and the waiter have been rather superficial so far, not exactly knowing what to talk about yet. Hopefully, the talk will be smooth when you’re on the actual date.
Another day has gone and you went to the city to spend some time and buy some last Christmas gifts. The entire day was spent walking, and you'll admit that your ankle was starting to hurt. You tried pushing away the pain but ended up driving home.
This resulted in you saying no to having dinner in the city. It was your dad's idea, but even the thought of walking anymore was already hurting your ankle, so you told the others to just enjoy a nice dinner in the city. 
Surprised, Seonghwa didn’t join the rest either. You only overheard him telling them to have a nice evening, and then your parents left, along with Seonghwa’s dad. You knew they’d have a great time, probably going out for drinks after dinner.
Or so you hoped, because it was now 9:30 in the evening, and they were still not home yet. 
You switched the TV channel in the living room. Seonghwa walked in, sat down, and watched in silence.
Of course, you hadn’t mentioned anything about your little meeting in the bathroom last night and what it led to for you. And thankfully, he hadn’t either, so you were able to wake up today with a fresh mind.
“Why didn’t you wanna go out with the others?” You asked, changing to another channel again.
“Didn’t feel like going out tonight..” He shrugged. Neither of you said anything for a few moments, only looking for something interesting to watch. Every channel showed the same kind of low-budget Christmas movies on every channel, except one channel with a weird dating show called ‘Date My Mom’.
“So..” Seonghwa starts saying next to you, a few seconds of silence as you continue changing channels. “You’re gonna have dinner with that waiter?” 
“Yeah.. We’re going out tomorrow,” You respond, not looking at him. Just thinking of it, your heart starts to beat a little faster. The dating scene has always been uncomfortable to you, having gone on some awful dates in the past. “I’m a little nervous, I overthink everything. What to eat, what to wear..” You take a moment to think, considering your choices of clothes. You didn’t pack much fancy clothes, but you did have some options. “Maybe I could wear that red dress from the other night?” You think loud to yourself.
“No.” Seonghwa says.
“No?” Your gaze turns to him. “Why? I thought it was pretty..”
“I guess, but he has already seen that dress on you.” He shrugs, and you guess he has a point. But it is your favorite dress, and you feel confident in it. That makes a question pop into your head.
“Now that we’re at the topic and you're a guy; do guys notice what girls are wearing and remember it? Or do they not care?” You fully don’t care what’s on the TV now, turning your body towards Seonghwa to hopefully get some tips for tomorrow. Plus, you’re also just curious.
“Oh, we notice.” Seonghwa sounds confident in his answer, looking at you with a cocky smile.
“But don’t you just remember it on girls you’re interested in or girls in general?”
“It depends, the same way you do for guys,” He looks back at the screen, but your eyes staring at him, has his head turned to you, looking slightly confused. “What?”
“Have you ever put thought into what I was wearing?” You ask without holding back. Two weeks ago, you wouldn’t have asked Seonghwa this question. But you and Seonghwa have gotten closer on this trip, so you felt like you could ask him without making it weird.
“Maybe.”
He answers like it isn’t a big deal, but your eyes nearly pop out of your skull. 
“Really? What was I wearing?” Your whole body is now turned towards him, curious to know his answer.
“I think we’re gonna end this conversation here. Goodnight.” He stands up from the couch and makes his way to the stairs.
“Seonghwa! Please.”
“No, you’re just gonna rub it in my face. Goodnight!” His back is still turned to you as he reaches the stairs.
“Noo, I promise I won’t!” 
He stops in his tracks, releasing a deep sigh. He looks back at you, looking slightly annoyed. "Goodnight… “ His words are harsh, but when he turns around to walk up the stairs, he takes a moment, before looking back at you again. “The red dress.”
A subtle smirk appears on his lips before he disappears up the stairs, leaving you frozen on the couch. The way his eyes held a hint of something unknown, something hidden, made your heart beat faster than normal.
You don’t realize you’ve been staring at nothing for a few minutes before you decide to head upstairs as well. A shower is necessary, so you head to the bathroom and take a well-deserved shower. Your eyes linger on Seonghwa’s door for a few seconds before walking into the bathroom. The seating area in the shower makes it take a bit longer than normal since you enjoy sitting there a bit too much under the warm water. In your defense, your ankle hurts when you stand up too long.
Finishing up in the shower, you realize that you forgot your night clothes in your room. With a sigh, you dry yourself off and wrap the towel around your body before hurrying into your room. You close your door behind you, and just as you’re about to reach for something to put on, your eyes notice something red lying by itself on the chair. 
A smirk spreads on your lips as your hands reach for your red dress, slowly putting it on. You smile to yourself when you see yourself in nothing but the dress Seonghwa just admitted to think of. Silently walking out of your room, you find yourself in the dimmed-lit hallway. A few knocks on the closed door in front of you have your heart beat a little faster than normally, but the thought of teasing a little is just what you need.
The door opens and Seonghwa comes into the frame, bare chest, and gray sweatpants. The same look as yesterday with the sweatpants hanging dangerously low. Just a second passed after seeing you in the red dress in front of his door, and he was sighing deeply.
“What are you doing?” He asks, annoyed. 
You smile teasingly, looking down at yourself. “I was just trying out clothes for the date, and you’re sure I shouldn’t wear this?” Your hands run down the sides of your waist and to your hips, focusing on the way the dress hugs your body.
“Are you trying to piss me off or do you actually wanna know what I think?” Seonghwa’s eyes flicker down to your hips for a second before going back to your eyes and staying there. Like he won’t let you win this one.
“A little bit of both maybe?” You smirk, and suddenly your eyes lose the fight, slowly sinking down to his chest. Right now, you know you're in deep water. It's a dangerous game you've decided to play, but it's somehow making you want to do this even more.
But realizing that you aren’t being as tough as you imagined you’d be, you look up to see him starting to smirk like he knows what you’re thinking, “I think..” He steps out of his room, slowly approaching you until you’re pressed up against the wall behind you. “You’re playing a game with me. But it’s not working, Red dress. Go to bed.” Seonghwa then turns around, but without thinking, you grab his arm and pull him back. He rolls his eyes, sounding annoyed. “What do you want me to say? That I think you’re attractive?” 
“Do you?”
The question throws him off for a second, but he fights the tug on his lips at your bravery. You’re never this pushy, it’s always him “flirting” in the most unhinged way, so this is a thrill to see.
“You’re a menace.”
“Do you?” You try again.
Seonghwa spends a few seconds with flickering eyes, trying to read your gaze and contemplating what to say. Choosing not to give you the satisfaction, he releases himself from your soft grip. “Goodnight.” He says with a soft voice before turning around to walk away.
“Are you scared?” You challenge.
His body stops, muscles on the back tensing. “You really are trying to piss me off,” He says as he turns around, quickly moving closer to you. You suck in a harsh breath, backing up against the wall when he’s suddenly back in front of you.
“I think that your body looks amazing in that dress,” He starts, eyes looking down on your body. His voice is just above a whisper as he leans in. “The color matches your hair perfectly, the cut on the front, the back showing just enough skin..” His fingers trace your waist and mixed with the way his low voice describes the dress on you, you feel the goosebumps all over your skin. He seems to notice your reaction because a scoff leaves his lips, but he doesn’t stop tracing his fingers on the fabric. “Honestly speaking, if I were the man who was to date you while you are wearing this dress, I’d have a time figuring out whether I would rather rip it off you or fuck you in it,”
You completely stop breathing at this point. This is not like the other times he has said some shit like this. He means it.
Seonghwa leans further towards you, and you feel his lips slightly grace your ear. “But I’m not that man, so it doesn’t matter,” He whispers before leaning back, looking into your eyes. “There, I said it. Happy now?” 
Not knowing what to do or say, you just look into his dark eyes. You thought you had this when you knocked on his door, but he has you completely wrapped around his finger. A smirk spreads on his lips, and you feel his finger under your chin, tilting your head upwards. The expression of lust is so evident in his eyes.
“Are you scared?” He challenges, leaning in, but he doesn't kiss you. You feel his breath, you can almost feel how it is to kiss him, but he doesn’t do it. He’s playing with you. He’s doing what the two of you do best, and he wants you to take it to the next step.
And that you do.
Fed up with the teasing, you lean in and crash your lips against his. Like you’ve both been longing for each other, you wrap your arms around the other to get as close as possible. Seonghwa’s tongue slips in between your lips, and you let him have you as much as you suddenly crave him.
A subtle moan comes from Seonghwa, and you’re reminded of overhearing his moans. Getting even more turned on, you take one of his hands that is wrapped around your waist and guide it to your hips, silently telling him that you want this. 
The way your body fits perfectly in his hands leaves you even more thirsty for him. 
You feel his hand slide down to your thigh, slow fingers tracing your skin before you feel his touch at your heat.
The kiss breaks and Seonghwa looks down at you with a tiny crease in the middle of his forehead. “You’re not wearing any underwear.. You wanted this to happen?” 
“Maybe.” You whisper, not knowing if you should feel confident or slightly embarrassed. But you know Seonghwa is into it when he smiles and you feel one of his fingers run between your folds. 
“You’re such a little slut, I’m gonna have to take care of you.” He starts using two of his fingers to stimulate your clit, the feeling being absolutely addicting. You don’t know if it’s the feeling of doing something in the middle of the hallway or the fact that it’s Seonghwa who is fingering you, but the pleasure is out of this world. You’re already wet, and Seonghwa notices, so he uses the opportunity to slide two of his slender fingers into you and a muffled moan escapes your mouth. A smirk reaches his lips. “The house is empty, moan all you want, baby.”
His fingers are long, and you can’t help but clench around them. You feel him curl his fingers inside of you, hitting a spot you didn’t know felt so good. Throwing your head back in an attempt to keep yourself from going insane, Seonghwa takes the opportunity to kiss your neck. Another moan escapes your lips as you feel his fingers work in and out of you at a faster pace. His other hand keeps a grip on your waist, holding you steady. 
Every thought is lost in your brain as Seonghwa angles his fingers and makes sure to be knuckles deep into you. Him being the tease he is, he slows down the pace when you start feeling your orgasm build up in your stomach, resulting in you starting to ride his fingers yourself. You're earned with a smile from Seonghwa, as your arms wrap around him to keep you steady.
“That's it, ride my fingers, you're doing so good.” He compliments. The way his low voice speaks makes you clench around his fingers again and the orgasm slowly starts forming in your stomach again. “Gonna cum already? You like having my fingers fuck you?” 
“Y-Yes.” You manage to get out, but the orgasm approaches fast, faster than you’ve ever tried before. “Fuck, Seonghwa, I’m gonna cum.”
“Cum for me, baby.” He whispers and fastens the pace again. In a second, you’re doing everything you can to keep yourself on your legs as your orgasm approaches. The sounds of Seonghwa’s fingers in your pussy are echoing through the hallway, followed by your loud moans. His name slips out between your lips and a smile tugs on his lips. “That’s it, say my name.”
His eyes are studying your face as you ride your orgasm, not missing a glimpse of this moment. You meet his eyes, and he leans in to press his lips against yours. You then realize how much you missed his lips on yours already, and you feel him pull out his fingers to focus on the kiss. Tongues fighting for dominance, you’re both hungry for each other. 
“What should I do with you?” Seonghwa asks as he pulls back for a second.
You’re quick to answer. “Fuck me.” 
“My room or yours?” 
“I don’t care.”
Seonghwa is definitely taking the lead and guides you into your bedroom. Your brain is nothing but Seonghwa, so you couldn't care less which bed you end up in. Your lips are on his again as he moves you both to your bed. Suddenly feeling something behind your thighs, you feel Seonghwa push you back, landing on the bed, before crawling on top of you. 
His hands are all over your body, trying to touch every inch, when a groan escapes from the back of his throat. “You know what? Fuck this dress, take it off.” Seonghwa then helps you up on your knees so you can get out of the dress, pulling it over your head. Seeing you completely naked in front of him, his smile only grows as he sees how stunning you look. 
Feeling overwhelmed, he grabs your face to kiss you as he stands next to the bed, you on your knees on the mattress. His bare skin under your fingers is driving you crazy, so as your tongue moves with his, you can't help but play with the elastic band around his waist, holding up the sweatpants. A growing bulge is making its appearance under the fabric. The thought of seeing every part of his body is making you feral, and he senses your neediness because he pulls back and looks down at your hands playing with the rim of his sweatpants.
“I guess, technically, you still owe me telling you what to do for a day, because of our little bet and I wanna hear how fucking stupid you sound gagging on my dick. Can you do that?” 
Seonghwa knows exactly what to say, because something switches inside of you, and you can’t wait to taste him. Feel him and have him all to yourself. 
You nod and lower yourself to pull down his sweatpants along with his boxers. The sight of his cock is absolutely astonishing. It’s way bigger than you thought, and the veins running up and down make it look so pretty. Feeling excited to make Seonghwa feel as good as he made you feel, you lean down and start tracing your tongue on his shaft. Starting from the bottom, tongue flat against his cock you lick all the way to the head where pre-cum is glistening, earning a moan from Seonghwa. 
Seonghwa’s eyes don't leave you for a second, but he grows slightly impatient when you decide to tease a little. The tip of your tongue traces along the veins of his hard cock, not ever taking him fully into your mouth. Looking up into his eyes as you do so, you see him growing more and more frustrated, his breath getting more and more uneven. Suddenly, his hand grabs your hair and yanks it down so you’re forced to look into his eyes. He bends down so your faces are close, having a look in his eyes you haven’t seen before, but it turns you on even more. 
“One more tease and I will pin you down and pump you full of cum, understood?” He speaks just above a whisper, and the thought of him doing this to you tempts you to continue teasing him, but a part of you wants to hear him praise you. To say how good you are for him, so you put him in your mouth and start moving your head. He’s stretching your mouth because of how wide he is, but you’re determined to try and have all of him in your mouth. 
“Mmm, good girl. Just like that.” Seonghwa praise makes you go faster, using your hands too. But wanting to see how much of him you can fit, you try to take all of him in your throat. Seonghwa’s hands are in your hair, carefully guiding you. The taste of pre-cum runs down your throat, and you feel your nose hit his pubic area, taking all of him in your mouth. You feel tears stinging in your eyes, and suddenly a gagging sound comes from your throat. Seonghwa pulls back, leaving strings of a mix between spit and precum between you and his cock. Finally being able to breathe properly, you gasp for air and a scoff leaves Seonghwa. “Aww, is it too much for you?”
He almost sounds like he’s mocking you, but you shake your head.
“N-No..” Your throat hurts a bit as you speak.
“You sound so cute,” He caresses his thumb on your cheek, babying you like you didn’t just choke on his cock. “Now tell me.. How bad do you wanna do this?” He pulls you up on your knees so you’re face to face, his hands steadying you. One of his hands goes under your chin, thumb running over your lips to smear out his precum on your lips.
“So bad, Seonghwa. I want this.” And you do. You’ve never felt so hungry for someone.
“That’s it. Now be a good girl and sit on my dick,” 
It takes no time for you both to get onto the bed, Seonghwa lying down with you sitting on top of him. He strokes his cock a few times before lining it up at your entrance, teasing you.
“You think you can take this cock?” He asks, looking deeply into your eyes. You want to scoff, knowing it’s probably gonna be the biggest size you’ve ever had in you, but you won’t feed his ego with that information.
“Please, don’t think too highly of - ah!” Your sentence is interrupted by Seonghwa pushing his cock inside of you, slowly stretching you out. 
“Sorry, what were you saying? I didn’t get that,” He teases, pushing you down so you’re taking him all inside of you. You can’t even think straight, the only thing in your brain is the feeling of him. “Isn’t it nice? Feeling so full?”
“Mh-hm.” You nod as you bite your lip, finally sitting down fully on top of him. He hits the right spot inside of you immediately, but he doesn’t move yet.
“Do you have any idea of how bad I’ve wanted this? Ever since the dinner night when you wore that fucking dress, I’ve wanted to fuck the shit out of you.” His hands run down your thighs, eyes taking in how you look on top of him. “I had to touch myself to the thought of you, but you already know that, don’t you? You’ve been listening on the other side of the door.” He smiles, and you meet his eyes. You’re too focused on his huge size that you can’t even find the ability to be embarrassed. 
You try to move up so he can start going in and out of you, but his hands hold you down, keeping you from getting any friction. 
“Seonghwa, please..”
“Please what?” He teases.
“Don’t tease me, please. Just move.” You beg, but he doesn’t look satisfied. ‘You can do better than that’ his expression says. An unsatisfied groan leaves you. “Please just fuck me. Fuck me and make me cum, please.”
A smile creeps up on his lips. “There you go, baby,” 
Without warning, he switches you both around so he’s on top, angled between your legs. A deep thrust surprises you, making you gasp.
“Oh my god.” You moan, fingers gripping onto the sheets under you. Seonghwa continues to thrust deep into you, slowly increasing the speed. He sits up, angled so he gets a perfect view of his cock going in and out of your cunt.
“You can take it, can’t you? Like a good slut?” His hands grab your waist, now going at a fast pace. It’s hard to get any words out, your brain is completely shut off, but you manage to say a few words still.
“Yes, I know I can. Just for you.” You say, words barely pronounced right. This takes Seonghwa into a new world, leaning down to kiss your neck. Hands finding yours, he merges his fingers with yours as he starts whispering in your ear.
“That’s right, tell me what a slut you are. Tell me how fucking badly you need me to fuck you. Tell me every sick and twisted thing you want me to do to you.” He ordered, still going at a fast pace. His lips find your neck again, leaving kisses all over you.
“Fuck me. You can do anything you want with me. I’m yours and you can use me whenever you-” You don’t get to finish the sentence before another loud moan fights its way out of your mouth. You’re sure his name came out of your mouth too at some point, but right now, you don’t know. You don’t have any control over your body, you’re completely in Seonghwa’s control.
“Fuck, I love hearing you scream for me,” Seonghwa says in your ear, using one of his hands to hold your legs open for him as he continues to thrust. A smile tugs on his lips as you moan again. “You think your little waiter can make you feel so good?”
“No, only you can.” You don’t even have to think twice. You’re sure no one can make you feel this good besides Seonghwa.
“That’s right, let’s make sure you won’t forget that,” Seonghwa suddenly pulls out and sits up. He turns you around so you’re on your stomach, and you feel him positioning himself at your entrance again. Your legs are locked under him as he enters you again fully before hovering over you, back against his front as he fucks you into the mattress. His hands push you down, forcing you to just take him as you lie on the bed.
“Shit.. I wish you could see how fucking amazing you look with my cock in you. You’re so pretty.” He leans down to press multiple kisses on your shoulders, his fingers finding yours again to intertwine them. He hits your sweet spot with every thrust, and quickly you feel your second orgasm form in your stomach.
“Seonghwa, I-I’m gonna cum.” You say, head against the mattress. This only makes him go faster and deeper.
“Cum for me again, I know you can do it.” He says, and not a second passes before your legs are shaking and you clench around his cock. This makes Seonghwa moan loud too, feeling his orgasm approach at a fast pace.
“I gotta cum, baby.” He warns, fucking you fast and deep as he pounds you through your orgasm. 
“Cum in me, please.” You moan, wanting him to release inside of you. You’re still in the middle of your orgasm when Seonghwa thrusts a last time before spilling his load inside of you. His moans are prettier than you could’ve ever imagined, way better than what you overheard, and you feel his warm cum spread inside of you, leaking out while he’s still inside.
“Fuck.. Shit, you feel so good.” He thrusts a few more times, wanting as much as possible to fill your hole, before losing the strength in his arms and relaxing on top of you. 
You feel his heart beating fast against your back, both of your bodies sticky from the sweat. Deep and fast breaths are the only things heard in the room, both of you trying to get back to your normal breathing. You feel his hand run through your hair as soft kisses are placed on your shoulders. Without realizing, feeling a million emotions all at once, you can’t help but smile. He’s still inside of you, but you like it. This closeness, the amount of kisses he’s showering you with. It’s something you never expected to happen, but it has never felt better.
“Are you okay?” He asks caringly, removing some of your hair so he can see the side of your face. 
You nod, getting back to your normal breathing.
“I think I need a new shower. I’m all sweaty.” You admit, feeling him remove himself from you. He places a last kiss on your temple before pulling out of you.
“That makes two of us.” He says before getting out of bed. You’re about to get up, but Seonghwa catches you by surprise and takes you up in his arms. He carries you to the bathroom in bridal style (not something new for you) and carefully, he places you on the bench in the huge shower. Your legs are weak after the intense session you two shared, so you’re thankful for him carrying you. He’s out of the bathroom a second later, leaving you confused, but he’s back a moment after with his sweatpants and some clothes for you. 
Your eyes follow him as he’s in his own world, turning on the water.
“What are you doing?” You ask from your seat.
“You usually take up all the hot water. Let's share it this time,” Seonghwa holds out his hand for you to take. His eyes have a warmth in them, something so full of care that you couldn’t ever say no to this. You grab his hand and stand up, moving closer to him. 
The shower is big enough for both of you, but you don’t move around much, only watching as Seonghwa adjusts the water to the right temperature and takes the loofah in his hands. He turns you around so your back is facing him, and you feel him start washing your body.
“You want your hair washed too?” He asks, his voice incredibly soft-spoken. 
“No, just my body.” You smile, not knowing what to do. He doesn’t respond, just continues to use the loofah on your body to clean you. His front is against your back, but not once is there any hint of something sexual in the shower. Seonghwa doesn’t lead up to anything, only kisses your shoulder once in a while as his arms wrap around you to wash your front. You have sensed his caring side a few times on this trip, but this is a whole new level. You had no idea that Seonghwa could be this soft, especially with you. 
The warm water washes over you, rinsing off the soap. You feel clean again and turn around to face him.
“Thank you.” You smile, and he leans in to kiss you softly on the lips. 
“You’re welcome.” He smiles and washes himself too. He’s quick to finish, and you both walk out of the shower. The same thing happens when you have to dry yourself - Seonghwa does basically the entire thing, using a big towel to dry your body. He helps you in your underwear and in your sleeping t-shirt (except you notice it smells extremely like him, only to realize he grabbed one of his shirts for you to sleep in). He puts it over your head and smiles satisfied when you’re done.
“There we go, good as new.” He says and puts on his boxers and sweatpants.
“Why are you doing this?” You ask, not able to stop yourself. You were genuinely curious where all of this came from, so it wasn’t because you didn’t want him to. You had just never expected it.
“Doing what?” 
“This..” Your arms point between you, to the shower, and around you. He takes a step closer to you and pushes some of your hair away from your face and behind your ear. 
“Because we just had rough sex and I want to take care of you after,” He shrugs. You stare up at him, making him smile before he leans down to kiss you softly on the lips. It feels different than the other kisses like this one is full of something new. He pulls back, and you realize you miss his lips on yours already. “Also.. I think we both know that this was more than just a casual hookup.”
His voice is low like he’s scared that someone might hear, despite the two of you being the only ones home. But the words leave you with a million questions, but nowhere to start. Because before you realize what he said, he takes your hand and pulls you back into your bedroom. He’s in complete control of you, for some reason, your mind doesn’t work properly with him around you. 
“C’mere.” He says, opening his arms when you both get in bed. Doing as he says, you get into his embrace, and he closes his arms around you. You feel his arm wrap around your waist as he pulls you closer to him, your back against his front. A kiss is placed on your temple as you just lie in the arms of the man you’ve fought with for most of your life, falling into a deep sleep.
***
You wake up to a bright room and stretch in your bed. As you look around, you realize that there is more space than you thought. Turning to your side, you find the bed empty and sit up, scanning the room for Seonghwa, but he is nowhere to be found.
Did he go back to his own room after you fell asleep?
A little confused, you get out of bed and walk to open the door and hear something downstairs. Someone is talking, and you immediately recognize your mom’s voice along with Seonghwa’s. You make your way to the kitchen downstairs, seeing your mom cleaning while Seonghwa is eating some cereal by the kitchen island. His back is turned to you, but you can tell he’s laughing at something your mom said.
“Good morning, honey!” Your mom says as she sees you enter the kitchen, and you make your way around it so you’re on the opposite side of Seonghwa. Trying not to make your mom feel any tension between you and Seonghwa, you casually sit down and grab a bowl and a spoon. You can’t help but look across the kitchen island to see Seonghwa smile at you, eyes lighting up. He bites his smile and tries to hide the tension too, not wanting your mom to know what happened between you two last night. “Slept well?” Your mom asks. 
“Uhm, yeah. Very well.” You clear your throat and look up at Seonghwa again. He’s smirking to himself, looking down at his bowl of cereal. He’s wearing one of his white T-shirts now, similar to the one you’re wearing at the moment. It’s not like your families can’t know that you and Seonghwa might start seeing each other. But there’s no reason for them to know what the two of you did while the rest were out to dinner last night.
“So, are you ready for your date later?” Your mom asks, making both you and Seonghwa freeze. His smile is gone, eyes looking up at you with curiosity and… worry?
Your eyes flicker for a moment, as you had completely forgotten about your date with the waiter tonight. But after what happened last night, you’re not sure about this date. Especially not when a certain someone is sitting across from you, messy morning hair and sweatpants, yet you don’t think you’ve ever been more attracted to someone.
“Uhm..” You look at Seonghwa a last time before looking at your mom. “I don’t think I’ll go on a date with him, Mom.” 
“Aww, how come?” She asks, curiosity evident in her voice.
“It won’t work out..” You say, not being able to tell her the entire truth. But the eyes you feel staring at you from across the kitchen island keep you from staying quiet. “Besides, I think I might like someone else.”
Seonghwa’s eyes look away from you, as he takes his empty bowl and starts cleaning it in the sink. You can’t see his face, but for a split second when he turned his face to the side, you saw him fighting back a smile.
“Really? Who?” Your mom's words wake you up from staring at Seonghwa, and you look back at her. 
“I’ll tell you later on, it’s still pretty new and I have to figure out if he even likes me too.” You shrug, not even knowing what to say about your situation with Seonghwa. You’ve known each other your entire lives, not once have there been a hint of something romantic between you two. Not until this trip. But you would lie if you said that the things he has done for you on this trip didn’t wake up something in you. Something you didn’t know was there but was waiting to be woken up. 
“Well, I hope it’s gonna work out for you, honey.” A smile tugs on your mother’s lips as he kisses the top of your head. She walks out of the kitchen, and just as her figure is out of sight, you feel a pair of lips kiss your cheek and arms wrap around you from behind. 
You hold back your giggle as Seonghwa showers you with kisses but stops to look into your eyes.
“Good morning.” He smiles, still having his arms around you. 
“Good morning.” You smile.
“So.. You’re really not gonna go on a date with him?” His voice is low, careful not to let everyone know what you’re talking about. You shake your head.
“Nah.. I figured I’d rather put my attention on someone else.” Your words turn on the light in Seonghwa’s eyes. 
“Can I take you out when we get home, then?” He suggests, but you’re not done teasing him. Despite you and him possibly starting to date, you’ve still lived your entire life teasing each other. That’s not something you’re gonna stop doing, just because you’re dating.
“What makes you think I wanna date you?” You scoff and roll your eyes, looking down at your bowl of cereal. You feel his grip around you loosen as he reads your face. If only you knew what he was going to tease you back with when he leaned close to your ear.
“‘Seonghwa, fuck, oh Seonghwa.’” He imitates your words from last night, and you quickly push him away, a laugh escaping his lips.
“Stop! Don’t!” You say, not being able to hold back your own laugh from hearing his. He walked back closer to you, a teasing look on his face.
“Isn’t that how you sounded screaming my name last night?” He asked, eyebrow raised in a questioning manner.
“Alright! Alright alright alright,” You shake your head, wanting to move on from how you sounded last night. “You’re unhinged, you know that?”
“I’m just proving a point.” He shrugs.
“The point being what?”
“That you shouldn’t date anyone but me.” He smiles satisfied, like it’s common knowledge. A while ago, you would’ve laughed in his face if he said that to you, but now, it only makes the butterflies go crazy in your entire body. But of course, he can’t know (yet) how weak in the knees he’s making you, so you only respond with a casual answer.
“Fine, I guess.”
“Oh, I have a better idea,” His arms find their way around you again as you look up at him from your stool. “How about we go on a date here, and we’ll go out to eat in the restaurant where that waiter is working and he can see that we’re-”
“Nooo, no, no, we’re not doing that.” You stop him.
“Why?” He sounds genuinely confused.
“Because that’s gonna make everyone besides you uncomfortable, and you’re not gonna be dragging that poor man to the ground, again. He hasn’t done anything wrong, you know.” You defended, not wanting to stir any kind of drama. You just had to text the waiter that there wouldn’t be a date, but you’re thankful for the opportunity. But knowing Seonghwa, you’re not surprised by him coming up with this idea. You’re also earned with Seonghwa rolling his eyes at you.
“Boring, but fine. Is this how our relationship starts? With you telling me what not to do?” He asks, of course, a teasing smile apparent on his lips. 
“When you’re being a menace, yes. And I might tell you what not to do, but if we do what we did last night.. Isn’t that a pretty good deal?” You suggest, watching as Seonghwa smiles even more while he holds you closer.
“Baby, you can tell me what to do and what not to do for the rest of our lives, if we can do what we did last night.” He leans closer, his lips barely touching yours. "I'd happily be your servant for the rest of time if you promise to stay with me."
“Sounds like a plan.” You smile satisfied.
“Can’t wait.” He finally presses his lips against yours, making the fireworks in your body go crazy. Your mind goes blank again, falling into the deep hole of Seonghwa, wishing to stay there forever. 
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macfrog · 2 months
Text
sweet child o' mine | pt. iii
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now taking name suggestions for my joel's duck doodle. must rhyme with a curse word. most creative wins.
pairing: neighbor!joel x fem!reader
summary: as your pregnancy progresses, you and joel are getting closer. dangerously closer.
warnings: reader is literally pregnant so typical pregnancy symptoms & descriptions of stuff like extreme nausea and gagging (reader throws up off-page, no graphic description past sore throat/esophagus afterward), body changing, nerves around birth/becoming mom, another sonogram (gender reveal...?), baby kicks felt, labor pains shhh, age gap (late 20s reader, late 40s joel), joel is dating someone who isn't reader, our girl hates nye (she's valid), tommy uses colors to represent gender (he is Wrong), joel is for sure emotionally cheating at this point and reader knows it, joel kisses someone who is not his partner again, f masturbation, memories of the hot dirty sex they had whew, a SPRINKLING of breeding kink, praise kink, size kink, another parent dies (i love parents i promise ????), jealous!reader, protective!joel, alcohol consumption, cursing, a LOT of angst, lots of fluff, lil bit of smut, and duckie has the best comedic timing of any character in this entire series. :) DISCLAIMER: this series covers some issues which i know may be sensitive and possibly triggering to some. warnings will always be as thorough as possible, but if there’s ever anything you feel i’ve missed, please let me know. feel free to drop by my inbox anytime.
word count: 11.4k (sorry. lots to cover lots to do.)
pt. i / series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 🩵
December.
The days are funneled by a quick pinch of dark, the breeze heavy in its sail. Houses lined with twinkling lights and windows pierced by pointed trees. Crooning from every radio station, teary-eyed movies on TV, and spiced apple everything.
You hate every fucking minute of it.
“Wait a second,” Tommy sits forward, leaning in, “you never do nothin’ for New Years?”
You shrug, lifting your eyebrows. “Nope. Just don’t like it much. That a crime?”
He considers it as he hands his empty tumbler up to Joel, his head lolling some. He’s on his…fourth drink of the night, right? Though, if you take into account his earlier argument – I’m eatin’ as I go. It don’t count. – it’s probably more like two. But it’s whiskey, so –
Never mind.
“Yeah,” Tommy finally decides, “kinda. The hell’s wrong with you, girl?”
“Tommy.”
Joel’s voice is a warning, edged by the sharp clink of three glasses pinched in his fingers.
His brother laughs amiably in response, though, nodding to your mock-offended expression. “At least you’re spendin’ it right this year. Last one before lil’ Dickie comes along, huh?”
Maria slaps his shoulder, rolling her eyes. “It’s Duckie,” she hisses, glancing over to you.
“Shoot,” he says, chuckling. “I knew that. My mistake.” And then, hand out towards you in an apology which makes your shoulders jerk with laughter, “I did know that, I swear.”
Tommy and Maria flew in a few days ago; the younger Miller adamant that he’d spend one last New Years with his big brother before he became a father. The night they arrived, they showed up on your doorstep – a hamper filled with diapers and muslins and baby socks hanging from Maria’s arm. They’ve asked to hang out with you every day since.
They’re good fun. Tommy likes you, at least, enough to tease you as much as you figure a brother might. He’s definitely the louder of the two – sometimes you swear you notice Joel cringing at him, something caught between a laugh and a frown on his face. And Maria’s sweet; she’s asked probably six times every hour since she first saw you if you’re feeling okay, if you’re tired, if you’re hungry.
Joel text you yesterday morning. Tommy and Maria wondering if you feel like coming over for NYE. No pressure, he added, I lie pretty good.
A smile snuck its way across your lips before you had the chance to tame it. Sure, you typed, I’ll bring the newspaper.
What Joel’s told them, about the wedding and the baby and everything since, you’ve no idea. You guys almost talked about it when he told you they were flying down after Christmas, but before you got the chance to ask him, Vanessa pulled up out front.
Not exactly a conversation you felt like having with the dude’s girlfriend hooked around his right arm.
She smiles at you, now, as you shuffle to the edge of the armchair you’re curled up in. Joel’s armchair – the plaid blanket cradling you, the leather soft and crinkled beneath. Your eyes quickly drop from hers when his hand reaches for your mug, your fingers crossing as you pass it up. “Let me come help,” you say, pushing from the chair.
He holds up a palm, shaking his head once. “Stay. I got it.”
“Thanks,” you murmur, settling back. Vanessa resumes smiling. You wish she’d fucking quit it. You wish you’d fucking quit focusing on her.
Joel knocks the mug gently against your shoulder with a small, almost sympathetic smile, and heads for the kitchen – leaving you sat between Tommy and Maria on one couch, and Vanessa on the other. You tuck your heels under your thighs, picking at a hangnail as you wait for the conversation to thaw.
Maria makes some comment about Austin in the winter: how different it is to Jackson, and the three of you nod and hum in agreement before the chatter fizzles to nothing again. You glance over to the clock, watching the hands chase one another to twelve.
This isn’t what you imagined a get-together with Joel’s family would feel like. Tight, tense. So tense that you can feel the weight on your chest, closing your lungs. Talking about the weather and the holiday traffic, talking about nothing to avoid talking about everything.
Tommy’s chin lifts, after a second too long of silence. “Hey, Joel!” he barks. “You ain’t shown me this nursery yet!”
Joel leans around the doorframe, half-distracted. “Barely even started it, little brother. Crib only got delivered yesterday.”
“Sheesh,” Maria’s eyes widen, “you sure are prepared.”
Vanessa laughs when Joel rolls his eyes and vanishes again. “You got no idea,” she says, “I have never seen him so…pedantic, right?” She looks to you, still smiling. So sweet, you worry your lips are pursing at the sight of it. Your neck tensing. Your eyes watering.
“Yeah,” you reply, nodding shyly and swallowing back the saccharine. “I think he’s more nervous than he’s letting on.”
Joel’s voice calls from the kitchen again: your name. When you answer, he says, “Why don’t you take Tommy up, show ‘im what we got so far?” and then, leaning back around the door, “She picked the color ‘n whatnot.”
“Ah,” Tommy says, palms pushing down on his knees, “so you’re the brains, then?”
You mirror him, accepting Joel’s request. As though you had any choice in the first place. Standing beside the younger Miller, you mutter, “Sure. Let’s go with that.”
He holds a hand out to usher you ahead, following you upstairs. Past the tousle-haired boy in grayscale, past the German shepherd, past the Christmas Day portrait. Wandering like you know the house inside out, like you might’ve picked the exact coordinates of each nail the picture frames hang on yourself.
Like the photographs pinned to the walls aren’t still as alien to you as they’d been that day you first set foot in here, the dress Joel would come to tear from your body slung over your arm.
You twist the gold handle and unveil a homely little room, painted by you and Joel just last week. The soft blue drying into his knuckles, random splatters on your palms and your jeans. The giggles drawn from your chest; the thief either the chemicals from the paint, or the man rolling it over the walls – and you’ve a pretty good idea of which.
Tommy sniffs roughly, nodding. Taps the toe of his boot against one of the two bulky boxes leant against the wall, a crib printed on one and a rocking chair on the other. His tipsy head bob bob bobbing. “Alright. ‘s nice, ain’t it?”
You settle against the window, the glass cold at your back. “Real nice, yeah. Be even better once it’s done.”
“What’s yours look like?”
“Mine?”
“Nursery at your place. Your one pink, ‘case it’s a girl?”
You snort. “Mine is a little greener. More…I guess it’s duck egg. Had some leftover paint.”
He clicks his fingers and points to you. “See what you did there. Duck egg. Duckie.”
“Hm. Wish I were that poetic. I just like the color.”
Tommy stuffs his hands in his pockets, wanders around the bare room. The faint lingering of whiskey putting up its best fight against the clean bite of fresh paint, the sweet scent shaking from him when he nods some more at the blank walls and naked windows. He clicks his teeth and asks, “How you holdin’ up, anyways?”
“How am I holding up?”
“Yep. With, uh…” he nods to the door, eyes wide, “…Vanessa,” he whispers. Louder than he must think – probably echoed, if anything, by the palm he curves around his mouth.
You cross your arms protectively, shoulders bunching. “She’s fine,” you say, voice deliberately low. You both ignore the crack in it when you add, “I like her. She’s – she’s taken this all like a champ.”
Tommy leans on the window ledge, a rugged hand you reckon you’d know was a Miller’s just by looking at it. Same rough-cut quality as Joel’s, like they’re torn from the same sheet of sandpaper. He props the other on his hip. “But, boy – it’s gotta be complicated, right?”
“I guess. But she’s real sweet about it. And Joel’s been great, too.” You sniff, the memory of your kiss flashing behind your eyes. The steady drum of Duck’s heartbeat, the gleam in Joel’s eye when he looked down at you. The guilt seeping from your skin like beads of sweat, prickling along your spine and fizzling against the cold windowpane.
Tommy blinks at you, liquor-glazed eyes scanning. His shoulders jerk, a loud huh propelling from his throat. When your head cocks in confusion, startled from your daydream, he spills. “He ‘n I had a mighty long talk when he told me.”
You feel yourself leaning in, magnetized to him – body hunched as though you’re gossiping in the corner of a house party. Inhaling secrets with the tinge of alcohol on Tommy’s breath. “Oh, yeah?”
Tommy hums. “Just wanted to make sure he’d thought it all through. Not you – I always knew he’d take care a’ you and Duck. But…involving Vanessa,” he lowers his voice again, glancing over to the warm light spilling in from the hallway, “I just wanted him to be sure.”
Your blood begins to warm, heat flooding through your body as you step closer, murmuring, “What’d he say?”
He flicks his head, seeming to toss his initial response to the wind. “You know Joel. He is his own man.”
Your face screws, head jerking back. “What’s that mean? He is his own man?”
A voice from the doorway interrupts. A shadow swimming in the golden light. “Who is?”
Tommy steps away from you, loosening his arms as his big brother drifts into the shadowy room. Dusting the conversation under the rug. The smell of whiskey backs off. “Speak of the devil. Nice paint job, Joel. Missed a couple spots, but – I’ll let you off.”
“Uhuh.” Joel’s eyes thin, his body slanted against the wall. Arms crossed, bottle of beer hanging from his fingers.
Tommy swaggers forward when Joel holds the bottle out, taking it with a wary glance at the tall figure. A dog meandering back to his owner, tail between his legs and ears flat. It takes his gritty voice to jolt you back to the room, splintering your gaze from Joel’s toned arms and huge chest. “Looks real good, you two. ‘s one lucky kid.”
Joel’s jaw lifts, his eyes landing on you. Dogs are terrible liars. “He talkin’ your ear off?”
You smile; recognizing the softer Joel you’ve grown used to over the last three months replacing the stern, cold version you once knew so well. “Only a little.”
“Tommy,” he says then, “Maria needs you for somethin’.”
The denim-donned Miller nods knowingly and heads out of the room, thud of his boots receding downstairs.
“Maria okay?” you ask, making space for Joel as he settles beside you.
He shrugs. “Only said that to get him outta your hair.”
You frown. “You sent me up here with him in the first place.”
“So I could come up ‘n check on you. Know this must be a lot – the two of them, tonight.”
“I’m fine. Promise. I’m a big girl.”
You both sigh, turning to look out at the dark street. Your arms cross, sitting somewhere above the tiny slope of your bump – a new development you’re still getting used to. Your stomach feels tighter, a little more solid than usual when you touch it. A little more…real. There’s someone in there, right? Like, actually there. They’re changing the way you look, the way you feel.
“This is it, right?” you say, staring at the white lanterns illuminating Alice Brown’s rose bushes. “This is the year.”
“The year,” Joel agrees.
“Mhm. Become a mom. Become a dad.”
He purses his lips. “Yeah, I don’t know. I’ve had bigger years, kid.”
“Let’s hear it, old man. Let’s hear about your biggest year. God knows you’ve had plenty to choose from.”
He sucks a deep breath in, eyes tracing the silhouette of the houses across the street as he thinks. “Senior year, nineteen ninety-three. Asked Stacy Moore as my date to the prom ‘n she said yes. I was so nervous that I forgot my bow tie. Was a pretty good year.”
You hum, agreeing, and then, “I see your ninety-three, and I raise you: two thousand and one. There was this bike I wanted for-fucking-ever; it had, like, little beads on the spokes – would make this ratatatat sound whenever it moved. Tassels hanging from the handlebars, all iridescent. I begged my mom the entire year for it, and on Christmas morning I woke up, and…” You lift your hands, air puffing from between your lips. “Santa Claus delivered that year, dude.”
“Well,” Joel clicks his teeth, shell hardening only a little, “thanks for making me feel old as hell.”
“You’re welcome.” You beam back at him, breaking into a laugh when he does.
The two of you stand a little distance apart, denying yourselves the innocent brushing of shoulder against shoulder, the nudging of elbows and swaying of hips. Admiring the empty sky and emptier street, bathing between the cold moonlight of outside and the warm lamplight in.
And from somewhere deep in your belly, somewhere tucked behind your ribs, beneath your slow-growing womb: an urge to ask about her. To bring her up. To tend to the curiosity that Tommy poked a clumsy, drunken finger straight into, tearing it apart at the seams.
Like pressing on a new bruise, satiating the hungry need to know where you were hurt, how you were hurt, when you were hurt. A bent fingertip, pushing heavily into a sensitive splatter of dark purple; the burst blood vessels hissing in response, whispering, You don’t know, and you don’t want to know.
But you defy them. You do want to know. Want to satisfy the disturbed thrill you felt, leaning into Joel’s brother. Hands turning over one another, wet bottom lip trembling as he rounded the corner on some sort of…what was it, a secret? Some sort of truth, a long-buried revelation about the other woman. She’s a witch, have you spotted her crooked nose? She’s plotting something, I swear. She’s up to no good.
Your eyes lift again, focusing back on the dull color of the outside world. The bland canvas of reality. She’s not a witch, nor some genius mastermind. She’s a boring, relatively normal woman. Kind, thoughtful. Naïve and a little too eager to please; too willing to forgive a situation which warrants no such kindness or empathy.
She’s just…fine. Lukewarm. And you’ve no idea why that pisses you off so much.
Which, incidentally, makes the bruise sting all the more.
“Maria, Maria,” Tommy’s voice claws its way upstairs, “turn it on, turn it – Joel? Joel! It’s midnight, Joel, you two better come on down, now! Have we missed it –? Have we –?”
The sound of cheering slowly bubbles to life behind his drawl as the TV volume picks up, the tittering of Maria and Vanessa chiming in.
“…five, four, three, two, one…Happy New Year!”
Joel’s looking over his shoulder, waiting for footsteps or voices or a girlfriend who never shows. And he ignores his brother, for he is his own man, and turns to you instead. Bracing himself on the ledge, he blinks down with a plain grin on his lips. “Happy New Year, Mom,” he whispers.
You return his smile, taking his hand when he reaches out to you. “Happy New Year, Dad,” you reply, squeezing his palm.
He pulls you in for a hug, kissing your cheek briskly as you hook your arms over his shoulders. His beard scratches your cheek, grazes the curve of your shoulder, and you don’t mind. Your small, swollen belly presses against his; the tiny curve safe in the midst of your embrace.
Outside, the sky crackles to life with the distant spatter of fireworks, color shattering across the black canvas – red, blue, green and gold, dissolving as quickly as they explode into the now-January night. A burst of purple light washes between the two of you, and you turn your head on Joel’s shoulder to watch as the sparks rain over your neighbors’ roofs.
“I should get goin’,” you whisper, feeling his heartbeat a little too strongly against your own. Becoming suddenly aware of the weight of your frames locked together.
“Glad you came,” he says as he leans away. “I know this ain’t…I know we’re all tryin’, but you’re tryin’ the most, and I appreciate it. I hope you know that.”
“I know it,” you tell him, rolling your eyes. “Now, go. Go kiss your girlfriend.”
He chuckles, making for the door. “You want me to walk you home?”
Your eyes close serenely, the image of him doused in flickers of gold burning behind your eyelids. “I’ll survive the walk across the hedgerow, Miller.”
Joel nods once and leaves, plodding downstairs to be greeted by his open-armed girlfriend, a peck between them, arms crossed behind his neck. The lyrics of Auld Lang Syne slurred against his lips.
And you think – You know what? If it’ll rip you apart from her, if it’ll keep her bright red lips and her shining curtain of hair away from you, if it’ll stop her sucking in your air and your smell and your attention for thirty fucking seconds –
Then, yeah. Walk me home. Stay for a drink. Sleep in the goddamn guestroom.
Walk me home.
You slip out of the front door when the two couples are in the kitchen, missing Joel’s calling your name – or perhaps just ignoring it altogether.
“Spread the love at St. David’s this Valentine’s Day…”
Joel slows alongside a wall of cerise hearts, each one fluttering like wings whenever the hospital doors slide open and the breeze sneaks inside. Slips scrawled with names and messages: Love you M! and J + A, crude drawings of stick figures holding hands. Your lips curl into a smirk, watching him flick through each one as you palm your round stomach.
You just saw Duck for the second time. The last time, Freya was kind enough to mention, before they’re tearing you in two. Sorry, she mouthed when your expression dropped, and went back to twisting the probe over your stomach. Silently.
You’re getting better at it, you think. Playing Mom. Like some little game of make-believe, which is only real for as long as you’re looking it square in the eye – attending doctor’s appointments, updating the neighbors on your newest list of symptoms en route to your mailbox.
A little surer on your feet, now that you’ve found a balance to it: taking it as seriously as it warrants, a dry little pill stuck on the cliff of your throat, and making it easier to swallow with humor like water, a huge gulp anytime the fear claws its way up your spine.
And no more panic, since at least before Christmas. Only a little flustered this afternoon when Freya asked if you wanted to know the sex.
It felt too big a thing to hear, too real. You’re only just getting used to the backache and the bleeding gums. (And why didn’t you know that your gums would bleed? Isn’t that something they should fucking warn you about? Congrats, you’re pregnant: prepare for blood seeping from your jaw.)
No. No, thanks. Your head shot around to Joel. No, right?
He shrugged. Makes no difference to me.
Are you sure?
I’m sure, kid. Promise.
‘cause we can find out. I mean – if you want to.
He rocked forward on the balls of his feet, tapping you amiably on the shoulder. I don’t. You’re good.
You don’t?
No, I – He sighed, a hand dragging through his hair. If you want to, I want to. If you don’t, I don’t. Alright?
Freya bit back a laugh, the closed fist over her lips doing little to hide it. You guys should write a book on co-parenting.
But then she left the room again, closed the door on that same old little bubble – the three of you perched on the bed, you and Joel blinking up at the grains of your child onscreen – and you cried. Again. More.
Everything clearer, everything even more human than before: the globe of their skull, the tiny slope of their nose. All glowing in the dark waves of your womb, twinkling like the most beautiful constellation you could ever come across. Their ankles were crossed, feet forming a tiny heart shape in the top corner of the sonogram. Your hand lifted to point it out to Joel, and before the words found voice, you choked and broke down again.
He held you, lips to your hair, body solid as a rock as you melted into him in waves of salty tears. Smiled that honey-glazed smile and said he was so proud of you, said, look what your body’s doin’, darlin’, look what you’re growin’ – which only made you weep more.
And you pretended not to wait for it – for the moment when you might tilt your head up and your lips might line with his, and he might close the achy space between you again, might shush your cries by stealing the air from your lungs and the beat from your heart.
But he didn’t.
Which is fine.
Right?
“Somethin’ on your mind, kid?” he asks now, eyes still glued to the sea of hearts.
Your stare snaps from him instantly, unaware it was even held there. You tug on the hem of your sweater and pull the sleeves over your hands, mumbling, “Fine, I’m – I’m just…Come on, man. I’m hungry. I didn’t eat lunch today.”
“’n whose fault is that?”
You glower at him. “How considerate,” you seethe, “Vanessa’s a fucking lucky woman, you know that?”
He ignores you, a dumb smile on his face. The usual. “Let’s leave one for ‘em.”
A hot temper begins to boil below the surface of your skin, squeezing between your teeth in a fist-swinging breath. Also the usual these days, apparently. “For who?”
“Duckie. Somethin’ to mark the second scan. Last time we see them, before –”
Your hand flies up, eyes closing with a wince. Shut the fuck up. “Enough. I know.”
Joel hms, still smiling to himself. His beard has grown out a little: thicker, darker, gray sewn through like little whip stitches lining his jaw. He fishes a heart shape from the tub along with a pen, which he twirls annoyingly around his fingers as he thinks.
You sink back against the clinical white wall, an offensively bright color, holding your cheeks up in something of a smile when a nurse wanders past, nodding to both of you. Your face drops back to a scowl as soon as she’s over Joel’s shoulder, and your eyes meet his again – his brows raised, expectant.
“What?” you ask, chewing on the inside of your cheek.
He holds the slip up. “What we gonna write?”
And whatever charm the moment may have held, withers instantly. You throw your arms up petulantly. “You wanted to do it! Pick something. See you soon, or something, I don’t fucking know.”
“I don’t fucking know,” Joel muses, creases by his eyes when he smirks. “Poignant.”
“That’s what you should write,” you step closer, shoving your shoulder into his as you study the trembling hearts on the board, “if you can spell poignant, write that.”
“Hilarious,” he mutters, bending to scribble onto the shape, shielding his work from your view when you hang around his shoulder to pry. Cupping over the message until he’s straightening up, tossing the pen back to the desk, stealing a pin from the tub.
“Let me read,” you protest, tugging on his flannel sleeve.
“I will,” he says, shaking you off. “Patience, darlin’.”
Joel turns to the wall and pins the heart higher than the rest, in a spot clear of its own on the corkboard – thick arms stretching higher higher higher and pulling your gaze with them. As he steps back, he takes you gently by the waist and positions you in front of his body, your shoulders brushing against his chest. Your ribs hold your heart back from hammering into his.
You push up onto your tiptoes and squint at the note, which quivers when the hospital doors pull open again. “Mom and…Mom and Dad f…You fucking…”
Joel dodges your batting arm, snickering with you as he turns to make for the exit. “You don’t like it?” he tosses over his shoulder.
The heart stares down at you, black ink carved into the paper, watching as you turn and hurry after him, giggling. “Mom and Dad fuckin love you? So much for my potty mouth. And the –” another wheezing laugh you’d otherwise be ashamed to let him hear, “– the drawing? It looks – it looks more like a giraffe than a duck. Or, like, you know those long-necked dinosaurs?”
Joel’s head tips back, his own laughter caught up by the breeze when you wander outside, slipping your wrist around the crook of his elbow. Something infectious about it, something which stirs your own laughter until you’re walking arm in arm to the truck with a man who, six months ago, you’d barely look at twice over the fence.
The blind rage bubbling from your empty stomach seems to dissipate, dwindled to nothing in the face of that same man – his swollen cheeks and crows-feet eyes. And you say, “You’re disgustingly sentimental, you know that? Like, sickening.”
And Joel smirks, the way he always fucking does, and says, “You love it. Can’t lie to me.”
“I love it,” you concede, nudging into him as he opens the door for you.
The drive home is quiet, but not uncomfortable. There’s another thing you’re getting good at: being around Joel without need for snide remarks, without feeling your tongue curl under the weight of some snappy quip, loaded and aimed. Being around him and talking about Duck, asking how Tommy and Maria are. Forcing your teeth and tongue to carve out words which ask how Vanessa is, what she’s up to, when he’s seeing her next.
None of this is ideal, that’s for sure. Joel’s girlfriend aside, you’ve spent the last five months cohabiting your body with a stranger who lives most peacefully in the eye of a raging tornado of hormones – flitting between fits of giggles and pulsating joy in your veins, to waves of tears and an anger so hot beneath your skin that you wonder if your emotions might dry up completely by the time this is all through.
It's tough. It’s scary. And some nights you lie in bed, alone, wet eyes fixed on nothing, waiting for someone to burst into the room and announce that it’s all a prank. Just a silly joke. You and Joel can go back to tossing newspapers and casting glowers.
But for now, sat in the passenger seat of his truck – the seatbelt warped around the curve of your belly, the Eagles lilting softly from the radio – it feels like you’re making a home out of that tornado, too. Feeling the swirling walls of wind toss your hair like the breeze through the truck window; the chilled caress of the evening around your outstretched arm, soaring down the highway.
Yeah, you think. I can make something outta this.
“You know what I’m craving?”
Joel’s watching the light, waiting for green. “What’s that?”
“A fucking bagel. Cream cheese, pastrami,” you groan.
He snorts, cringing when he adds, “Pickles?”
A moan tears from the base of your throat, head lolling against your seat. “I could orgasm just thinking about it.”
The light turns, and Joel swings right. “I’d rather you didn’t,” he mutters, turning the wheel with one palm. “I got bagels back at the house, if you want one.”
You stare at him, jaw loose, saliva pooling behind your bottom lip. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
He smiles, shaking his head. “Let me make you one, ‘fore you go home. Big day, ‘n all.”
And you hate it – hate the way your cheeks fill with a genuine happiness, something swollen and achy, impossible to ignore when it lifts your eyes and hurts your teeth. Appreciation, or admiration, perhaps, that you figure you’ll only ever have for him. You don’t know what the fuck to call it.
So you sum it up into three words. “That’d be nice,” you whisper, and Joel places his hand over your knee, shaking it lightly as he drives on.
It stays there, until he’s pulling into his driveway.
He pushes the front door open and steps back, an arm extended to let you by first. An after you, ma’am, between his lips. And you turn to make some mocking joke, the beginnings of some comment about how gentlemanly he is, when you’re socked square on the nose by a heavy-fisted, bitter scent.
“Oh, fuck,” you gasp, stumbling backwards across the threshold and onto the porch again. Your throat constricting around nothing, your tongue twisting, your stomach lurching.
Joel catches you just in time to stop you from falling on your ass. “The hell’s the m–? Oh.”
“Hi!” Vanessa calls from the kitchen, leaning around the doorframe to wave you both in. “Almost ready! Take a seat.”
“V–? Hey, sweetheart?” Joel calls back, one hand around your wrist and the other between your shoulders. “What – what’s cookin’?”
She pauses, glancing back at the stove. Pulls the dish towel between her hands taut. “I…I made pasta.”
“Yeah, what kind, sweet?”
“…Bolognese.”
He can’t cover his own sigh quick enough. Thick with something which feels like anger. “Shit,” he turns back to you, “I am so sorry.”
You pull in a deep, unsteady breath, your lungs struggling to separate night air from tomato juice. A weight rolling at the bottom of your stomach, your entire body beginning to tremble with it. “I feel like I’m gonna – Joel, I’m gonna –”
“Breathe,” he whispers, voice urgent, palm slipping to cup your jaw. “Just breathe for me.”
But your throat’s tightening, swallowing hard around gags which come stronger and quicker the more you try to fight them down. “I can still fucking smell it –”
Her shadow blocks the stretch of light from the house. A nervous little thing, a timid creature’s shadow stretched wide across the porch floor. “Is…everything okay?”
“It’s – it’s fine,” Joel sighs again, torn between comforting you and letting Vanessa down gently, “it’s just – tomato is one of her…her aversions.” He’s unable to pull his eyes from you, privately asking, “Are you okay?” when Vanessa turns back to the kitchen.
“I didn’t – I didn’t know,” she mumbles, thumbnail between her teeth. “I am so sorry.”
Suddenly, your will not to throw up is overpowered by your will to tell her, “It’s fine,” sucking in a deep, sickly breath before adding, “I’m just gonna – I should go.”
“I don’t want you to go,” Joel says, his teeth guarding the words from his girlfriend.
“I’m gonna clean up in here,” Vanessa points over her shoulder, and you think she must’ve heard him, “get outta your hair. I’m so sorry, again. I would’ve never…”
Joel lets go of you as you stagger backwards, the cold air tearing down your throat to meet the burning acid tickling up your esophagus. “Please don’t apologize,” you lift a weak hand, “how could you have known? I’ll –” another sharp gasp, “– I’ll see you guys around.”
He must say your name, must try once more to pull you back to his side, but the blood’s rushing through your ears, and your heart’s pounding at the back of your tongue, and your stomach’s notching its way up your spine. You make it to your kitchen sink just in time.
He keeps you waiting all of one hour before he’s calling you. Your arm reaches over to your nightstand, fumbling in the dark for your heavy phone, the screen cold against your cheek.
“Mhm?”
“Are you okay?”
Your lungs pull a deep, slow breath. The acid painted across your throat tickles as the air passes by it, an uncomfortable, scratchy feeling.“Mhm.”
“That a lie?”
“Only a little. Is Vanessa okay?”
He takes a second to answer. Lets go of whatever he was going to say with a sigh, replacing it with, “She just left.”
“Is she mad at us?”
Another second. “Just me. Not you.”
You massage the slope below your breasts, the ache in your esophagus throbbing when you move. “Why just you?”
Ruffling, like he’s settling back into his couch. Sinking into the cushion, his body as heavy as yours feels on your mattress. “I should’ve told her you didn’t like tomatoes. ‘cause now I’m a goddamn mind reader. I mean, why the hell wouldn’t my girlfriend be in my house cookin’ a damn pasta dish while I’m out, y’know? Jesus Christ.”
“Joel,” you turn slowly onto your back, bravely waiting for the waves of nausea still lapping around your stomach to turn with you, “it was a nice thing, what she did. She didn’t mean to…She probably thought she was helping.”
“Naw, I know,” he replies, the sharp bite of his words softening again, shrinking under yours. “I don’t care about her and her helping, though, darlin’, I care about y –” He barely catches it in time. “I care about you carrying my child, and I care about making sure you don’t spend your nights fuckin’…throwing up tomato sauce.”
You gulp, neck convulsing. The backwash of bile swallowed back. Your chest floods with a heat of quick panic. “Can we…maybe…not use the word? I just –”
“Sorry, baby. Sorry. This is just – it’s a lot easier if she would just…”
Your eyes close over, a salty sting sweeping behind them. If she would just lay off. Back off. Fuck off. “…but she won’t, Joel. She loves you. ‘n you…”
The words drift off, taken by the tide, swept off into silence. And neither of you bother with trying to retrieve them – you just watch, stood safe on the shoreline, as they fold under the waves of something too big for either of you to acknowledge. Too dark, too dangerous.
So, you say, “I get it,” instead; say, “I get why you’re mad. Just – let’s forget about it, okay? Sorry for…ruining dinner.”
Joel scoffs, that old, pissed-off Joel scoff. You can see his deadened expression on the back of your eyelids. You may as well have just thrown his newspaper to the end of the earth. “You know damn well that you didn’t ruin anything. How you feelin’?”
“Tired. Throat kinda hurts.”
“Still feel like that pastrami bagel?”
“Not really. Sorry. Appetite’s gone.”
“How about a water?”
“I got some here. Thanks.”
“Okay,” Joel sniffs, “how about: you take the hint and let me come over there to see you?”
You giggle, hand over your eyes to mask your expression from the dark. “I hate you. Yeah, come over. Door’s unlocked.”
Date night – six month anniversary or whatever. Call me if you need anything.
And I mean anything. OK?
Your thumbs hover over the two gray messages, an awkward jig as your brain scrambles to offer words back. Where are you guys going? Too interested. Too weird. OK, what if I’m bored? Delete delete delete. Trying too hard. Sure, have a good n–
The ellipsis pops up and you freeze. A stupidly polite swish delivers Joel’s third text.
Boredom counts as anything, by the way.
And the fucker steals another smile from you. You notice it when you look up, clocking yourself in the mirror. Accompanied by a warmth which drips down your spine, swirls around your tummy; a fluttering you’re not sure is Duckie or something else.
Have a good night, Dad, you type back, tossing the phone to the end of your bed when you hit send. Swiping for a pillow, holding it firm to your face. Pressing so deep into the plush that even the linen won’t be able to see your grin.
Joel told you about this six-month anniversary last week. He wasn’t too thrilled about it then, either. Dinner to celebrate six months? A year, fair enough. But six months?
You swallowed your pride, swallowed the same throttling ecstasy which seeped through your pores on New Year’s Eve, on that February evening she cooked– never mind; a desperate desire to tear apart the very notion of Vanessa and her cutesy little date nights and candlelit dinners. I think it’s a fun idea, you said. Y’all should do it.
And Joel listened. Because he always fucking listens to you, these days. Listens when you tell him that you like the watermelon Sour Patch Kids best, and picks them up anytime he’s at the store. Listens to you when you tell him he should move the crib away from the window, in case the streetlights shine on Duck while they sleep.
Listens when you ramble about how sore your feet are, how heavy your belly feels, how there’s a clammy heat lingering under your skin at all times, bubbling and bubbling and never rising to anything more than steam collecting on the underside of your flesh.
Listens when you tell him to go spend time with his girlfriend. And neither of you pay attention to the jealous shadow behind your words, the hesitant quiver behind his.
He replies almost instantly, the ping like a gunshot at the beginning of a race. Pillow slammed into the mattress, body lunging forward.
You too, Mom. Don’t have too much fun without me.
You lock the phone and slide it back under your covers, smiling dumbly.
There’s still a small part of you waiting for the big reveal: none of this is really happening. A dream, maybe, something you’ll wake from with a tiny throbbing headache, a dry mouth and a new reason to avoid your neighbor at all costs.
But it seems that, each time that thought crosses your mind, you’re quicker and quicker to quash it. Realizing each time that what lies ahead – Joel, your baby, this future version of yourself that you’re yet to meet, still just a little out of reach – fills you with more excitement and wonder, than it does fear.
Mom.
It’s not something you ever imagined for yourself. Not someone you ever thought you’d be. And yet, each time you say it out loud, each time you look in the mirror and picture a baby in the crook of your arm, a toddler perched on your hip, a kid stood by your side, tugging on the hem of your shirt – she feels a little closer. A little clearer. She just has to look over her shoulder, notice you waiting. I’m right here, she says. Come find me.
Mom. Mom and Dad.
You imagine Joel right now, sat in some ritzy restaurant with jazz music and stained-glass lamps on every table, ordering Vanessa some glorified lentil soup and slapping his card over the bill before the waiter has a chance to reveal the damage to him. Your lips twist at the thought – her jewels and her long hair and her sweet little smile laced with a smug possession.
And then you slap your own wrists, hissing to yourself to shut the fuck up.
“She’s nice,” you argue out loud, thin air holding no debate. “She’s kind, and I like her. She’s good for him.”
And then the air replies. Good for him, it swirls, but you could do it better.
Your arm lifts, lingering for a beat before batting the thought away.
Three weeks. Three fucking weeks, between pushing yourself out of his embrace in bed, and pulling yourself back into it – armed with a pregnancy test and a chest full of fear. Three weeks of dodging him, of your cheeks bubbling with embarrassment and regret anytime you thought of it; of hoping to God that Alice or Diane or Steve and Kris across the street wouldn’t clairvoyantly know what had transpired that night and corner you on your own front lawn.
A one-night stand. That’s all it was. Two lonely bodies, excitement enough to convince you both that it was a good idea; a fitted suit and a backless dress crumpled together on the floor. Liquid courage lacing it all together.
Three weeks, then, of reminding yourself how it felt: how amazing you were together. Your hand between your legs and Joel’s name between your teeth.
Fuck. If only he knew. Goodforhimgoodforhim she’s so good for him but I’m better.
You did it better. You know you did. The sun was cresting the horizon by the time the two of you stopped. You hauled yourselves down to breakfast and sat at least three people apart, made forced conversation with Maria about the DJ stumbling off with one of her cousins, while the ghostly ache of Joel’s body churned somewhere deep inside you.
It travels through your veins the way that everything does right now: urgent and unforgiving. A need to be dealt with, immediately. Coursing through your body, an arrowhead pointing somewhere you know it shouldn’t. But your hands lift anyway – following it, loosening the waist of your sweatpants and skimming beneath your underwear.
Your body lights at the first touch. The first dip of your middle finger against the plush over your clit. Knees bend, thighs part. You push your underwear down your hips, settling your bottoms loose on your legs. You’re already wet. You’re already there.
Good fucking girl. She’s good but I’m better, right? Take it, baby. Does she take it like I take it? Take it. Can she take you like I did?
Quicker and quicker and quicker, your fingers heavy on your clit. The other hand sifting between your folds, dipping to collect a glimmer of wet. Yeah. Just like that. Do you fuck her like you fucked me? You feel what you do to me? Fuck no, you don’t. You’ve never fucked anyone like you fucked me.
Head back, eyes fluttering closed, lips parting to breathe answers to a man who isn’t here. To a man who, as he dips sourdough into an overpriced soup, sure as hell isn’t thinking about that time he fucked you so good he got you fucking pregnant.
Well. Maybe he is. You are, right?
Voice without body, drawl etched in your memory. Think she can take it all? You hum in amusement, waiting for him to answer his own question. Yeah, she can.
Attagirl. Your legs spread further, knee lifting as you insert two slick-coated fingers. His hands are on your thighs, following the dip of your hips, holding your waist as you guide him back inside. Attagirl. That’s my – Fuck, Joel, you’re so b– That’s my fuckin’ girl. Take it. Touch it. His thumb on your clit – his, not yours. You like that? Yeah, that’s nice, ain’t it?
The flesh of your breasts filling his palms, squeezing and nipping and rolling between. The warmth leaking between your legs: his and yours and fuck, he’s so deep and he’s filling you again and he’s groaning as more dribbles from where he splits your body around his own, holding you still until he’s done. Until he’s empty.
“Joel,” you whine, a third finger pushing in.
Between your hips. Headboard hammering against the wall. The sun hanging loose at the bottom of the sky. Gonna make me come again, baby. Do it. Do something irreversible. Change me forever. Fuck me fuck me fill me and then pull out, push back in with the wet squelch of your come mixing with mine and changing me forever. Making me brand new. Making me yours.
Another moan. Louder. Sharper.
Yours yours yours. All mine? All yours. We’re good at this. I know we are. Who fucks you like this? No one – No one – just you – just me. It’s so big, fuck, but I can take it. Been thinkin’ about this all fuckin’ day, baby. All I do is think about you. All I fucking do – You gonna come for me? – is think about you.
Know you need it. Let ‘em hear you, downstairs.
Fuck, I’m thinking about you. Come home. I need you to come home, need you to –
Fuck me, Joel, I’m –
Good girl.
– fuck me.
Atta fuckin’ girl.
She’s good but I do it so much better.
We’re good at this. ‘s do it again.
She’s not as good as me.
Again? Again.
She’s not as good. She’s no fucking good.
Your walls clamp around your fist, entire body shuddering to a stop. Breath held by something shaped like the hook of his accent, two fingers either side of your throat. The same smirk on his lips that convinced you in the first place. Fuck, baby, fuck me.
“Joel,” you cry out, the sound ripping between your vocal cords, punching against the ceiling and reverberating in your ears. Your body convulses on the mattress, back arching and slackening again. “Fuck, I’m – oh, my –”
Just feel it, baby. Feel me. You got it.
Let go.
Your lungs lurch open again, breath flooding in like waves spilling over the gunwale and rushing down to pool at your feet. A lulling rock to your movements, chest rising and falling like the steady tide. Soothing, coming down. Foam and salt carrying the flotsam away, the jagged glass of his name disappearing to sea again.
And then he’s gone.
And you’re just alone in your bedroom.
Last you checked your phone, now face-down on the carpet at your hip, it was eight p.m. Streetlights on, the sky painted by the pale dregs of daytime.
Now, you lie in near-darkness, blinking up at the ceiling. Hand sifting through a bag of glow-in-the-dark stars, comparing the different sizes, considering where to stick them, and then tossing them back in frustration.
Your front door clicks open, a pause between the sound and his voice.
“Anyone home?” Joel calls, and you lift your wrist as though he can see it from the bottom of the fucking stairs.
“Up here,” you eventually announce, knuckles rubbing your tired eyes until Catherine wheels spatter across your eyelids.
His shadow splits the light from the hallway, the long rectangle crossing over your swollen belly. “The hell are you doin’?” he asks, wandering in.
You lift the bag. “Decorating. The hell are you doin’?”
He pulls your nursing pillow from its temporary home in the crib and tosses it down on the carpet, bending to lift your shoulders and slot it underneath. “Scooch,” he says, groaning as he lays back beside you. He smells like whiskey and cologne. All woody, pine and spice.
“You got a bad back,” you warn him. “You shouldn’t be all the way down here.”
“You’re seven months pregnant,” Joel clicks his teeth, “neither should you.”
“What if you get stuck ‘n can’t get back up?”
Offense pulls his brows together. “What if you do?”
You smile in response, feeling the heat of his shoulder against yours. Sucking the scent of him through your nose. The pair of you exchanging smirks and batting eyelashes, wrapped in the cool darkness of the room. It’s juvenile and intimate.
You’re trying not to think too much about it.
“I can’t fucking figure this out. I put two of the big stars over there,” you point to the far corner of the room, streetlight splintered by the shades on the ceiling, “but it looks stupid having two so close. So, then I thought,” moving your arm to the right, “a cluster of smaller ones, right over the crib. But I couldn’t move the damn thing to climb up, so…I’ve been down here ever since.”
Joel lifts his hand, stopping your train of thought. “Please do not climb on anything, bein’ that you are…with child.” And then, when your eyes roll to meet his, he grins, adding, “Nesting got you good, huh?”
“You should see my kitchen cupboards. Never been tidier.” Your expression dissolves, voice quietens – your most desperate plea since that morning you shook hands on his doorstep. Your broken wardrobes and his lonely wedding invite. “Will you help me?” you ask.
He thinks it over less than once, dragging his gaze from the twirling star in your fingers. A quick shake of his head, like it’s obvious. “’course I will. ‘s what I’m here for.” And then he yawns, lowering a hand absentmindedly to settle on the curve of your stomach; a gentle pat in greeting to Duck.
“How was dinner?”
“Good,” Joel lies.
“Vanessa okay?”
“Good,” again.
“Sorry.”
Joel’s eyes roll, fingers pausing. “Why do you always gotta be sorry for som’?”
You shrug when you realize it’s not a rhetorical question. He’s genuinely asking. “I don’t know. Just tryna be polite. I know you’d probably rather be at home right now, not…deciding where some plastic fuckin’ stars should go.”
“For my kid’s bedroom? For you?” He huffs something shaped like disapproval. “Do me a favor – stop with the sorrys, alright?”
“I’m not even done with the last fucking favor I said I’d do you.” Your eyes flit down to your bump.
He stares blankly. You know there’s a laugh gathering like hot air on a windowpane behind his eyes, threatening to shatter the glass.
“Fine,” you concede, “dickhead.”
“Better.”
You sigh, looking back down at the phosphorescent shape in your hands. Turning it over and over and over, matching the rhythm of his fingers tensing and then untensing on your belly. His fingers, matching the rhythm of your chest rising and falling with breath. The room quiet. The night’s eyes averted, even just for this moment.
“If it’s anything,” Joel says, “I think the stars look alright.”
Another stolen smile. Another defiant show of teeth. You place your hand on top of his: a thankful gesture, an invitation. Something in between.
Joel blinks back at you, his eyes flitting from yours to your lips. The dim light in the room swallowing the two of you whole, secluded in the upstairs of your home. And you think, Kiss me, kiss me kiss me kiss me, and you will the words over your tongue in a ragged breath – hoping that Joel might breathe them in and feel their sharp edges as they absorb into his bloodstream, each cell flipping like the star in your hand and whispering the same two words to him: Kiss her kiss her kiss her.
But right then –
There’s a burst of movement. Under your fingertips. A fluttering, like bubbles popping right below the surface of your skin.
Your eyes snap down at the same time Joel’s do; your fingers separating and hovering over your tummy.
“Did you – did you feel –?”
“Yeah. Did you?”
“Uhuh. Was that –?”
“I don’t know. Was it?”
He takes your hand, pressing it back against your stomach with his on top. Your knuckles safe in the canopy of his palm. Both staring into space as you hold your breath.
“They’re not…they’re not doin’ it, now…”
“Maybe it was just –”
“Wait! Did you feel that?”
A second burst on your womb, a tiny beat on the other side of your bump. A wide grin breaks across your cheeks, a disbelieving laugh escaping.
Joel laughs, too. “Is that – is that the first time they’ve ever –?”
“Yeah,” you sniff, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, “that’s the first I’ve ever felt ‘em, anyways.”
“Wait,” Joel says, lifting his hand and holding a finger up. Just yours on your belly. “They doin’ it?”
Your head shakes.
When he lowers his hand, Duckie kicks again. The two of you lean in to one another, exchanging laughter. You lift your own hand, watching his expression as he waits patiently.
But then his head shakes, too. “Nothing. They’re only doin’ it when it’s both of us.”
“What the fuck?” you laugh, replacing your hand and waiting for the baby drum. “How can they even tell? What the f–?”
You shift your hands around the globe of your bump, pausing every so often to feel for Duck’s movements. A tiny fist punching, or a heel kicking, or an elbow shoving right above your navel in a way that’s bordering on painful, but numbed by the sheer thrill of it.
And for a while, it’s all you do: play tag with your unborn baby, giggling when they respond to your tapping fingers and cooing voices.
Joel sits up, leaning on his elbow to talk to his kid; runs two fingers across your shirt like a pair of legs scaling a cotton covered hill. And he laughs, and you laugh at his laugh, as if he’s a kid himself again – tearing apart gifts on his birthday, gasping and throwing his head back with glee at whatever he uncovers.
“It feel weird?” he asks, glancing up at you.
“So fucking weird,” you tell him.
“Does it hurt?”
“More…ticklish, if anything. Might get kinda annoying, if they start doing it when I’m tryna sleep, or somethin’…”
Joel lowers his jaw to your stomach, whispering, “You know what to do, Duckie. Make your daddy proud.”
You slap his shoulder, muttering, “Asshole.”
“Alright,” he says, splintered by a laugh. He pushes himself to his feet, swiping the bag of stars from your side. “Let’s get these up so you two can get some sleep.”
You groan as he pulls you upright, one last pat on your stomach, looking at you a second too long and a touch too meaningful. Too warm, too inviting.
It’s the calm before the storm, though you’re still stood motionless. Still trying to work out whether the tornado is moving away, or headed directly for you.
At five in the morning, Vanessa’s sister calls her.
“Heart attack,” Joel tells you a few hours later, the rustle of paper crinkling in your ear. The truck hums in the background. He speaks through a mouthful of sandwich. “Her dad always had a condition, but they thought they were managin’ it with medication,” another crinkle, and then, voice even more obscured, “but he got rushed to hospital durin’ the night, and…”
“Poor Vanessa,” you reply, nail drawing shapes on the curve of your bump in attempt to lull Duck into a more relaxed state than the sharp kicks they’re throwing at your ribs. Now big and strong enough to do considerable damage, your voice falters each time they swing. “Is she – son of a bitch – is she okay?”
“Shaken up,” he says, turn signal ticking over his voice. “She’ll be alright. She’s pragmatic like that. Problem is – they’re in Houston. Her whole family. So I guess that’s where the funeral’s gonna be.”
You swing your legs off the couch, heaving your awkward, nine-months-pregnant body to your feet – the irritating scratch of hunger suddenly gnawing at your stomach. “Yeah?” you say, waddling through to the kitchen. “So?”
“So,” Joel takes another bite of sandwich, “she has to – I mean, we have to…go. To Houston.”
“We?” You slot the phone between your cheek and shoulder as you fish out a couple slices of bread.
“Me ‘n Vanessa.”
“Uhuh,” you carve a knife around a jar of peanut butter, “you gotta be there for her.”
Joel sounds a little defensive. “I know. And I am. I’m goin’ to be. ‘s just – I gotta be there for you, too. For – for Duck.”
Your stomach swirls, a fire catching which lights your chest in a trickle of flame.
“You are. You will be. Houston’s only, like, three hours away.”
He sighs.
The turn signal fills the silence between you, between Joel and an appropriate answer. Clicking like the sound of a tennis match, his head spinning between his grief-stricken girlfriend, and the third-trimester mother of his child.
“I’m here,” he says, and you hear the squeal of brakes out front. “Give me a sec.”
The door pushes open as you sink back into the couch, balancing the plate on the planet beneath your breasts. Joel crumples his sandwich paper in his fist and lowers his hand over the back of the couch, scrunching his fingers over your belly as he passes.
“Thought you hated that stuff,” he calls over his shoulder, disappearing into your kitchen.
“I had a craving,” you say, ripping the first bite from your sandwich. “You made me hungry.”
He returns a minute later with a glass of water which he sets down on the coffee table in front of you. He lifts your legs, letting them fall gently in his lap when he collapses into the opposite end of the couch, heels of his palms pressing against his eyes.
You tap his thigh with the ball of your foot and he turns to you, placing a hand over your ankles. A sticky paste of peanut butter and bread between your molars, you ask, “What’shup?”
Joel holds back a smirk at your chipmunk cheeks. “Just – just worried that you…you know, while I’m gone, is all.”
You scoff, gulping. “Come on. I am not gonna go into labor in the, what – two days? How long would you even be gone?”
He seems to wince at the thought, fingers sifting through his hair – a gray sweep sat casually over his left eyebrow; flicks following the curve of his ear towards the hinge of his jaw. “Less than that, if I can help it.”
“Joel.”
He turns to you, saying your name just as deflated in response.
“You have to go.”
He rolls his eyes, thumb and middle finger massaging his temples. Crosses his arms and huffs like a teenager. “Well, I ain’t happy about it.”
You snort, unable to hold it in as you take another bite. “I ‘on’t think Vanesha’sh too happy about it, either, to be honesh wih ya.”
Joel’s jaw slackens, a choked laugh bursting from the back of his throat. He lifts a cushion and swings it in your direction. “Heartless. That’s heartless, you know that? Jesus, baby.”
He leaves on Saturday morning.
You stand on your porch, watching him shove a suitcase into the backseat of his truck, squinting in the sunlight as he stalks across your front yard. Joining you in the shade, he leans into you, shoving you lightly.
“Quit it.” Your hand locking with his, steadying yourself. Something in the back of your mind begging him not to let go.
And as if he can hear the thought: “I can stay. You know I can stay, right?”
“I don’t want you to stay,” you tell him, sweeping the hair from his forehead. “We will be fine. We’ll stay up late, eat junk food and watch TV; I’ll do audio description for Duck…”
He scoffs, glancing across the street.
“…and then you’ll be back home, back to buggin’ the hell out of us. It’ll be Monday before you know it.”
Joel’s jaw tightens. “And what if…?”
“You really think that’s gonna happen? You think your kid’s that much of an asshole?”
He doesn’t miss a beat. “Yeah,” he shrugs, tongue in his cheek, “they’re half you.”
“Alright,” you click your teeth, turning away from the simper on his lips, “why don’t you just fuck off to Houston now, asshole?”
“I’ll fuck off, that’s what I’ll do.”
“Uhuh. Here’s hoping you don’t break down, or get a flat, or get struck by lightning, or anything.”
“You’re so funny,” he whispers, leaning closer.
“Hm. Now go.”
His jaw turns, beard grazing your skin. And then his lips; soft and warm, damp when he kisses your cheek. A moment too long. And he doesn’t pull away, doesn’t lean back the way you both know he should. No, he lingers – his lips by your ear, eyes flitting up to the street to make sure nobody sees.
“Joel –”
“I know.”
“We shouldn’t –”
“I know.”
But your arm is hooking around his neck, asking him to do it anyway, and his lips are lowering to yours, submitting to your request, and what’s supposed to be a goodbye kiss lasts at least a few seconds too long for it to mean anything less than a don’t go kiss.
You pull away when you feel the wet dab of his tongue against yours, realizing with an ice-cold shock where you are, and who he is, and what’s happening. Realizing how fucking stupid it’d be for both of you, how catastrophic and terrible the outcome.
A one-night stand.
A one-night stand.
A one-night –
He leans his forehead against yours, nose nuzzling your cheek. “I’ll call you when we get there.”
Your arm loosens, letting him go.
Just – letting him go.
Saturday Night Live ends just after midnight.
You arch your back into the couch, your swollen belly pushing forward. It’s an effort to get to your feet, what with the steady ache in your back all day, the weight on your front, and the fucking human being smushed into every vital organ inside you.
A deep breath feels like it inflates your lungs only halfway, Duck using the bottom half as a fucking ass cushion, and scaling the stairs takes another ten minutes – by the end of which, you’re slumped against the handrail, pausing before making off for your room.
You sink into the mattress, creasing the cool, smooth sheets. Duck stirs inside you, stretches out and throws a right hook against your bladder. You curse under your breath, hoisting yourself back to your feet.
“We gotta sleep, baby,” you hum, swaying back and forth with a hand under your belly. “Shh, ‘s okay. Take your fuckin’ fist outta my bladder, you little asshole.”
Whichever traits of yours and Joel’s have blended into the human cocktail growing in your uterus, you know one thing for certain: this kid has your stubbornness. The weight remains on your bladder, regardless of how much swaying, or pacing, or rubbing, or threatening you do.
You growl, wandering through the upper floor of your house in attempt to shift Duckie, or distract yourself, or, at the very least, tire the two of you out enough to fall asleep.
From the nursery door handle hangs a little wooden star, a tauntingly sleepy smile painted on it. You push the door open with two hesitant fingers, stepping into the still bedroom, the weak wash of streetlight meeting moonlight on the greenish walls.
You suck in a deep breath, floorboards squealing as you take your first step. Over the crib hangs a plastic mobile, soft plush shapes twirling slowly. The matching changing table slotted alongside it, a rocking chair over by the window.
You pad across a fluffy rug and lower yourself into the chair, tilting back and forth on your toes as you glance around one of the two rooms you and Joel have spent the most time in since that October morning bonded you forever. A baby duck ornament perched on a shelf above the dresser, its orange legs dangling. A multi-photo frame Joel’s mom bought you, both scans in the first two slots and the third empty, lying in wait.
Your breathing fragments, struggles, eyes slipping over to the baby clothes hanging in the closet. “You know, little Duckie,” you whisper, rubbing your bump and thinking back to Tommy’s words six months ago, “you are a pretty lucky kid.”
The hooded towel robe on the back of the door, the perfect size for a newborn. The framed prints sat atop the chest of drawers, waiting to be nailed to the wall: a rainbow, a frog, a starry sky.
“You got two houses. Two bedrooms, all to yourself. You got two parents who already love you more ‘n the whole world. And,” you gulp, “you got Vanessa. And she loves you, too.”
You glance down, watching the tiny pulse of movement when the baby stretches in your womb. Your hands scoop them up, as if holding them closer than they already are. As if already cradling them, forcing yourself to feel less alone.
Duck seems to quieten, to still; seems to consider what you’re avoiding. Reads between the lines, hears the words you’re not speaking.
Two of everything, you think, and I barely even had one.
The most evidence you have of being loved by anyone in your life is the house you live in. Four brick walls and three decades’ worth of belongings, more inheritance than memories. But they roll around like marbles – they echo against the walls when they hit them. There’s nothing binding them, no thread of love, or family, or anything real enough to hold it all together.
You’re the only living organ inside a skeleton’s cage. A lonely little heartbeat, making noise for no one to hear.
And that’s the way it has been, at least since you were eight. The absence of warmth and safety isn’t anything new to you – it left the second your parents did. The last scrunch of your mom’s nails on your head, the last kiss of her lips to your plump little cheeks. The passing over to your grandma, like you were cargo, like you were a box to be checked.
Maybe you found some distant flicker of heat in the way Joel looked at you, the day you told him you were pregnant. Maybe you saw the same glimmer of a flame that you used to see in your mom’s eye. The rosy smell of her perfume, the feel of her finger inside five of yours. Maybe, for the first time since you were a kid, you felt safe.
We’re gonna work it out, he said. I’m here. We’re in this together, alright? I am not running out on you.
Together. And yet, now, sat in your child’s nursery – a room built from scratch by Joel’s two hands and strung together by every beat of your heart – you’ve never felt more alone. The same two hands that are wrapped around Vanessa right now, consoling her, wiping her tears away, massaging her shoulders and sweeping her hair from her eyes.
And the same heartbeat which quickens now, fueled by an angry desire, an impulse scratching deep into your flesh to march all the damn way to Houston and tear the pair of them apart. Like he’s yours; like the way he touches you and looks at you and talks to you means anything more than his child growing inside you.
Like it’s you he’s touching and looking at and talking to, and not Duck. Like his attention won’t cease to shine on you, the second this little baby leaves your body.
And then, washing over the scorching hot sand of anger: a foam-lined wave of guilt. Of shame, for wishing for the breakdown of something that clearly makes the two of them happy. That makes Joel…happy.
He doesn’t owe you anything – he was never yours to begin with. Just one drunken night, a mistake until you noticed the two pale lines on the pregnancy test. And by that point, he was already hers again. You had missed him without even knowing it.
You sigh, pushing up from the rocking chair and reaching for a tissue from the changing table. Turning back, giving the room one last teary glance before closing the door, you sniff.
“You’re just…the luckiest little kid who’s ever gonna live.”
At one twenty a.m., cicadas chirping and trees rustling, the low breeze carrying the sounds through your half-open window – your back begins to ache. A blunt, gnawing pain. Feels like your period, and in your doze, you stuff a pillow between your legs and pray you don’t stain the sheets with a show of blood.
The realization comes over you as if that stifling breeze flips to freezing. You slowly come around, eyes peeling open as you think it over twice, then three times, then four. Duck shifts somewhere deep inside you, somewhere you’ve never felt them shift before.
“…No. Not right now, Duck. You gotta give me, like, twenty-four hours. Just – wait until your dad gets ho–”
A blinding pain interrupts you, the moonlit-blue room fading out of focus for half a second before you’re wide awake, clutching the bottom of your spine where you’re sure the kid just tore a fucking hole straight through your uterus.
“You’re a fucking dick,” you whimper, fingers clenching in tight fists around the bedsheets. “You’re a fucking – dick.”
One twenty-three. You go into labor.
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helluvapoison · 2 months
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Can you do the Vees (Separate) with a S/O who will randomly deep clean the whole house? Like will just get up and deep clean the room? Taking everything out scrubbing everything, etc.
cleanliness is next to holiness
˚✧₊⁎ The Vees ⁎⁺˳✧༚
ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ
˚✧₊⁎ Valentino ⁎⁺˳✧༚
• Bewildered and slightly offended, he didn’t think his room was that messy, he stares at you in confusion the first time you do this
• “Mi corazón, I can… call someone to do this?” He gestures to the items you’re pulling out of his closet
“No, I’m ok.”
Doubt is written all over his face.
“Are you, though?”
“Yup, but thanks for asking.”
• He thinks it’s because he has a nasty little habit of throwing and breaking items when he gets upset. Learning that’s not the reason doesn’t ease his confusion but at least he knows he’s not the problem
• Valentino rushed to lock up his weapons shelf. If you were going to make this a regular occurance, he needed to make sure you wouldn’t get hurt
• …He might need to put some, ahem, toys under lock and key while he’s at it
˚✧₊⁎ Vox ⁎⁺˳✧༚
• With the amount of wires and cords around his flat, Vox panics when he sees you kneeling next to a bucket of soapy water. You’re so fleshy, don’t you know that’s dangerous!?
“I’m wearing rubber gloves,” You counter.
He lifted you high above his head, like that would protect you from the potential blackout it would cause if the bucket spilled
“Oh yeah, that’ll save you from 1,000 volts!”
• Like the other’s, he wishes you’d let him tell someone to do the dirty work. He’d much rather an Imp get fried than you
• Acting like he’s busy with work, Vox hovers around when your tedious cleansing process begins. He actually becomes slightly impressed. You’re methodical and thorough, like a code
• Eventually he learns to back off and let you do your thing. He may not understand why this is your thing, but at least you’re not in danger
• There’s always worse habits you could have
˚✧₊⁎ Velvette ⁎⁺˳✧༚
• No matter how many times she’s walked in on it, Velvette always gapes when she opens the door
• “You’re a fuckin’ freak, doll.” She sighs, turning and leaving so as to not deal with the situation, “Love you though.”
• She doesn’t get why you would clean an already spotless place. She pays people for that, you know!
• As long as you don’t get the bright idea in the middle of her favorite show, or even think of going in her studio, she doesn’t mind the fuss
• Vel makes a playlist for when you’re in a “cleansing mood”, she calls it
• She’ll find a chic outfit that makes it look like she plans on helping, takes a few pictures and then sits in the doorway. She keeps you entertained and updated on what sinners are saying on her posts while you work
~
╰(*´︶`*)╯♡ this was so fun to write! the vees would just be so confused lol
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joelscruff · 1 year
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you know i don't mean it (joel miller x reader) 18+
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welcome to my 300 follower celebration! \o/ i polled my followers on which character they'd most like to see in some new smut and joel won (not surprised). this was supposed to be a drabble but ended up getting a bit longer than i anticipated, hope you enjoy! summary: you and joel get off together. that's pretty much it. you also have some unresolved feelings for him and he's being closed off. rating: 18+ explicit (mdni) warnings: smut, age gap (reader is mid 20s, joel is mid 50s), praise kink (the term 'good girl' is used maybe 432534 times), dirty talk, dom/sub dynamics (but make it soft), mutual masturbation, come-play, come-eating, this is filthy word count: about 2.5k | ao3 link
"This is the last time," he mutters under his breath, belt buckle jangling as he lays down across from you, "We can't keep doin' this."
"Yeah, yeah," your hand is already buried in your panties, index finger lightly rotating against your clit, "That's what you said last week too."
He grunts and you watch as he slips his hand inside his jeans and palms himself, squaring his shoulders and trying to relax. He pretends he's doing this for your benefit, like its you who needs help getting off, as if he's not a middle aged man who hasn't been touched by a woman in years. And it's not like you haven't offered, you've genuinely tried to give yourself to him more than a few times, but it's simply a line he won't cross.
Other lines, however, are much easier to cross. It had started out relatively innocent, something that had happened completely by chance, or at least you both led yourselves to believe it was. You'd both had the same idea one night and had ended up getting off together in the same room, you in the chair beside the fireplace of the abandoned ski lodge you'd both been posted in, him on the couch.
"Are you -" he'd gasped into the darkness when he'd heard the wet sound of your fingers a few feet away, plunging in and out of yourself at a steady rhythm.
"Like you're not," you'd hissed back, "I'm not deaf."
"Thought you were sleepin'," he'd muttered, hand stilling on his cock where seconds ago he'd been stroking like his life depended on it.
"And that makes it less weird?"
He'd groaned, releasing himself and sitting up to squint at you in the darkness, "So what are you gonna do about it?"
You glared at him, not bothering to remove your hand from your underwear as you continued to finger yourself, breathing deeply, "I'm not gonna do anything about it, Joel. I'm gonna keep going. And you can stay here or you can go, doesn't matter to me."
After a few seconds of silence, he'd flopped himself back down on the couch and reached for himself again, fucking into his fist, "No talking," he said through his teeth, "Let's just do it and forget it even happened, deal?"
"Deal," you'd replied, and roughly added a third finger as you watched the dark silhouette of him jacking himself off barely six feet away from you.
One night turned into two, turned into five, and now ten. It wasn't every night, only when you were on patrol together. You'd privately asked Tommy to make sure that Joel was your patrol partner as often as possible, because you felt "safer" with him... you're not sure if he'd really believed you.
You're back in the ski lodge again tonight, both of you situated on the couch in your usual positions, on opposite ends and facing each other. It's ridiculous how quickly it's taken you both to get used to these sessions, the casual feeling of it making it even hotter somehow.
"How many fingers are you using this time?" Joel murmurs, eyeing you where you're touching yourself, unable to fully see what he'd like to.
"Up to you," you breathe, still prodding your clit, "How many do you want me to use?"
"Three," he replies, and you watch as he pulls his cock free from the confines of his jeans, jutting large and solid against his stomach, "Real slow, then real fast."
You nod, lifting your hips up to pull your panties free and expose yourself to him, legs wide.
"Stick to my rhythm," he tells you, watching as you trail your middle finger through your folds, "If I stop, you stop. If I tell you to stop-"
"I stop," you answer for him, throwing him a smug smile, "Same rules as always."
He stares at you without speaking, just waiting. You get the hint and begin to slide your finger inside slowly, making eye contact with him under your lashes and smiling languidly. He fists himself just as slow, looking down at your finger and licking his lips.
"Slow enough for you?" you whisper, adding a second and grinning when his eyes darken, "Should I go a bit faster?"
"Not yet," he whispers, thumbing the head of his cock and fucking into his hand at the same pace as your finger, "Keep it nice and slow for me 'til I say so."
You obey, fucking yourself with your middle and ring finger at the slowest pace you can muster. No matter how annoying his orders are you always do as you're told, not because you're afraid of any sort of consequence, but because you like seeing him enjoy himself, seeing him take control. You've only known him for about six months but you've known for a while that he's been lacking any sort of control in his life for a long time; you're glad to be the one who can give it to him.
"Add your third," he whispers and you oblige, slipping your index inside yourself alongside the others, "Good girl," he breathes, "Such a good girl for me, aren't you?"
You nod, your smugness immediately starting to fade. When he talks to you like this, praises you, it's impossible to keep your hard exterior up for much longer, feeling yourself submit to him. In any other circumstance you love to challenge him, to argue, but in these moments it's the last thing on your mind. You do as you're told, and that's the end of it. He needs control, you need submission.
"Tell me," he whispers.
"I'm your good girl," you breathe, shivering and continuing to shove your fingers in and out at his pace.
He smirks, "Yeah you are."
You continue to fuck yourself at his painfully slow pace, watching him fist his cock at the same speed. He likes to tease you, to build you up until you're begging for it. You thumb your clit and start to whimper, legs trembling.
"Okay, faster now," he tells you, voice low and sultry, "Not too fast, though. Watch me," he tugs at his cock at a bit quicker of a pace, still much too slow for you but you can't do much else but obey him, mirroring him with the thrust of your fingers, "That's it, like that."
After several more thrusts he suddenly stops stroking himself, stilling in his palm. You groan, halting your movements, following the rules.
"How is it that you follow orders so God damn well when you've got your panties around your ankles?" he asks, voice rough, "Yet when we're actually patrollin' you don't listen to a word I say?"
"I'm not your good girl when we're patrolling," you reply with a teasing smile, "But I could be, you know."
He rolls his eyes, "Enough, it's not happening," he nods to your hand, still motionless at your core, "Play with your clit for a second, give me a chance to breathe."
There it is, the line he won't cross. You've already told him that you're willing to give yourself completely over to him, be exactly who he needs, but no matter how many times you try he just won't budge. It's disappointing, truly, because you really do like him. Sure, he's a bit of an ass, plus he's about thirty years older than you, but you've seen the side of him he doesn't show to others. Maybe only hints, but you've seen it. And you care about him.
"I don't do this with anyone else, you know," you whisper, pressing your index finger against your clit and rubbing small circles into it, "You're the only one I'd let treat me the way you do."
He looks at you curiously, raising an eyebrow, "I treat you good, don't I?"
You nod, whimpering a bit as you rub yourself harder, "You do, but you're the only one I'd ever submit to like this, you know that, right?"
He hums, brushes the wide head of his cock with the tip of his thumb, "I know, baby. But it feels so good, doesn't it? You like being my good girl, don't you?"
You bite down on your lip, core aching as your fingers lay still against your folds, save for the index that continues to furiously stimulate your clit, "I do," you whisper, cheeks warming, "I fucking love it."
"There you go," he murmurs softly, then begins to move his fist again, "Use your fingers again, baby, get your pussy all full for me."
You don't need telling twice, your three fingers plunging deep inside yourself without any hesitation. You whimper when your fingertips brush against your favorite spot, so close yet so far. You eye Joel's cock and try to imagine what it would feel like for it to really be inside you, the fat tip of it pounding relentlessly against the deepest parts of your cunt, his girth stretching you out so much your whole body would be shaking. You feel your mouth drop open involuntarily, brow furrowing.
He follows your gaze and frowns at you, pumping himself a bit faster, "You can't have it," he whispers, like he can read your mind, "I know you want it, pretty girl, but you can't. I'm sorry."
"Why?" you mewl, sounding absolutely pathetic as you keep fucking yourself, "I want it so bad, Joel."
"I know you do," he closes his eyes and leans his head back, "Don't ask me why, you just can't."
You'd pout, tease him a little, but he's not looking at you anymore and it physically makes you ache, the way he avoids any allusion to actual sex, an actual relationship. You've asked him so many times and it's always the same answer, never a real reason. You wish you knew why, wish you knew if there was anything at all you could do to make him open up to you.
Instead you mirror his position, tilting your head back against the arm of the sofa and fucking up into yourself, listening to his labored breathing and the slap of skin whenever his fist hits his belly.
"Fast as you can now, baby," he mutters gruffly, close to the edge, "Need you to come for me, need you to be good."
"I'm always good for you, aren't I?" you whimper, opening your eyes to peer at him again, "I always listen, I never break your rules."
"That's right."
"So why can't you fuck me?" you sit up suddenly, yanking your fingers out of yourself and looking at him angrily. He sits up just as quickly, eyes narrowing as he releases his cock and stares at you, "I'm serious, Joel. I want an actual answer."
"You just broke a rule," he mutters and you sigh exasperatedly.
"I'm sorry for breaking the rules," you genuinely mean it; you know how important this control is for him, but you can't help it, "I'll submit again if you just tell me why you won't fuck me. Do you...do you not want me? Is that it? 'Cause I can accept that, I just want to hear you say it. I'm sick of not knowing."
He stares at you incredulously, hand coming up to squeeze the space between his brow and nose, "Jesus, of course I want you, but it's not that simple."
"Yes it-"
"It's not," he interrupts you, shaking his head, "I can't...this isn't..." he exhales deeply, "This isn't the time for this conversation, okay?" You hear raw emotion in his voice, buried deep but still present. Fuck, you didn't mean to make him feel bad.
"...Okay," you finally whisper, "I'm sorry."
"S'okay," he runs a hand through his hair, "Look, we can stop-"
"No," you lean back and open your legs wide again, putting yourself on display for him, "No, I wanna be your good girl again, please let me."
"We don't-"
"Joel," you whimper, slipping your fingers back inside, "Let me be your good girl."
His hard expression fades, eyes softening as he peers at you, watching you fuck himself for him.
"It's all yours, even if you won't touch me," you whisper, using your other hand to pull yourself open for him, showing him how full you are, feeling your orgasm start to build in your tummy, "It's yours," you repeat, whimpering.
He nods, stroking himself again hard and fast, brow furrowing in pleasure as he keeps his eyes trained on you, "That's right," he murmurs, "It's mine. You're mine."
You close your eyes tight, "I'm gonna come."
"Go ahead, pretty girl," you hear him groan, the snap of his wrist making you completely come undone, "Squeeze around those fingers, pretend they're mine, okay? You can do that, you can pretend."
You shudder at his words and feel your orgasm overtake you, the image of Joel's thick fingers pounding into you enough to send you over the edge. You moan loudly, crying out his name and tossing your head back as you come.
"Good girl," he groans, voice strangled, "Such a good fucking girl for me."
You close your eyes as you ride out the waves of your release, fingers still pumping gently inside of you until it's too much and you pull them out. Sighing contentedly, you open your eyes again and watch Joel relentlessly fuck into his fist, belt buckle still jangling against the couch as he gasps. You want nothing more than to reach forward and take him in your own hand, help him ride out his own release, but you don't. Because those are the rules.
Instead you just watch him, smile at him as he shuts his eyes tight and groans deeply, coming into his fist. You watch the thick white liquid cover the sides of his fingers and you involuntarily salivate, jaw going slack.
"Fuck," you breathe, "Wish I could taste you."
He groans again, hand stilling as he breathes heavily and starts to come down, eyes closed. You sit quietly, panties still hanging off one of your ankles. You'd usually already be putting your clothes back on at this point, but something tells you to stay still, don't move, he's gonna do something different.
He swallows and looks up at you, stares at you for a few moments. You're unsure whether the regular Joel is about to come back, tell you it's time to go back on patrol, grab your gun and be quiet. Or is this still your Joel, the one who tells you you're pretty and good, makes you feel less alone in this shitty world.
"Here," he says, shaking his head and bringing his come-coated fingers up to your mouth, "If you wanna taste, you have five seconds."
Your mouth pops open in surprise, hesitating only for a second before you lean forward and wrap your lips around his fingers, feeling the salty taste of him flood your mouth. Your cunt begins to throb again, your eyes closing as you suck and lick and take everything he's giving you. When you open your eyes again he's still looking at you, but his expression is soft, tender.
"Good girl," he murmurs.
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this is now a series, and other parts can be found on my masterlist.
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angelltheninth · 4 months
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Hi! I really like your writing for JJK! I was wondering if you could do, JJK men with a s/O with a heavy breeding kink? Thank you!
Why are you inside my head right now? Or do we have the same horny thoughts?
Pairing: Yuuji, Sukuna, Megumi, Gojo, Nanami, Geto, Toji, Choso x Fem!Reader
Tags: nsfw, smut, breeding kink, mating press, creampie, rough sex, pregnancy mention, cum marking, cumdrunk!Reader
A/N: My thoughts are almost always horny so chance is that we'll agree on something at some given moment.
Yuuji is happy that you want his cum so much but no matter what he always has a pack of condoms with him. You can never be too safe you know. And when you're riding his cock as much as you are, saying how you want him to breed you, how much you love his cum inside yo, him having a condom on is the only thing that can prevent pregnancy because he does not have the strength to pull out.
Sukuna has a breeding kink too, even more than you. You think he's gonna stop when he's knocked you up once? No, you've already shown how much you want it, he finishes inside you and you don't even let him pull out, you're holding on because you know for a fact that he has more cum to give, another baby to make with you. You can't wait to be impregnanted by the King of curses again.
Megumi is only really rough and messy with you when you your breeding kink comes out to play. He knows you'll do anything to be covered with his cum when you're in that state. You'll suck him off just to have it on your face, you'll let his cock slip out just to have it on your ass and back, you'll press against him and mumble as best as you still can about how warm it feels to be bathed in his seed.
Gojo wants at least a few kids with you. He's overjoyed when you start talking about it during sex and is a little disappointed when he finds out it was just a kink thing. Not to worry he will still unload as many cumshots into your womb as you want but one day he hopes that it won't be just dirty talk and that he will get to see mini versions of the two of you running around.
Nanami starts out wearing a condom but once he hears about how much you want to feel his cum in your pussy he decides to take it off. There are other ways to prevent a pregnancy if you're not just horny talking to him. If you really do want to be pregnant then there are a few other things he needs to prepare first so the breeding he gives you tonight won't be the one that actually impregnates you.
Geto is into it too, very much into it and encourages your breeding kink whenever and however he can. He talks very casually about how beautiful you'd look like if you were pregnant, how he would still bury his cock in you no matter what and fuck you until you couldn't stand. If it became too much for your pussy then he would fuck your throat until you couldn't speak. There is always a hole for him to breed.
Toji already has you folded in a mating press by the time you start begging for his seed inside of you, for him to breed you because you're currently at most fertile time of the month and his seed will surely take. Say no more. He will give you as many creampies as you want, it will be his pleasure, and yours too it seems. When he's done and carries you to bed you'll leave a white trail of cum behind you.
Choso likes the idea of being a dad some day but not yet. So whenever you ask him to breed you he hesitates, he pulls out and shoos his load on your body instead. It makes you sad to see his seed go to waste like that so you ask him to finger just a bit of it inside of you, after that you can take a pill right away, you just want to feel a little bit of it inside of you. Lucky you he loves you so much.
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lily-lovelyy · 10 months
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|Bandages and Bruises| 18+
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(ART NOT MINE.)
DTOnly_VL on Twitter is the artist!!
Warnings ; smut, smut with little plot, fem!reader, Dom!Konig, sub!reader, medic!reader, dacryphilia, name calling, swearing, mature themes, ect.
(not edited)
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In all honesty the situation had started so innocently, you were bandaging up a cut on your favorite patient, and you couldn't help but lightly trace in his forearm, the veins there were so prominent and just begging to be touched, you lightly smoothed the pad of your thumb over them, hoping he wouldn't notice. But he did.
And now your ass was pressed into the edge of your desk, and Konig's clothed cock had been grinding into you, making you gasp and stutter. "Konig! A-anyone could walk in." You gasped, trying to slightly push away, but his large hands kept you rooted in place. "Let them, they can see how pretty you look squirming on my cock like this, Hase." He spoke, slightly lifting up your black dress you always wore, as your doctors coat had long since been discarded on the floor beneath you two.
You gasped lightly as Konig felt your wetness, and sucked his teeth at you, finding you weren't wearing any underwear. "You hoped we'd end up like this, didn't you?" He chuckled. You nodded and whined as he massaged your clit, making a circle with his thumb as your mouth fell into an 'O' shape. "dreckiges Mädchen" he laughed, lifting you up and gently sitting you down onto the wood desk you'd been pressed up against.
You ignored the need to scurry away and at least lock the door, and titled your head back, feeling Konig bunch up your dress onto your hips and kiss your inner thighs. He teased around your throbbing heat and you whined desperately, trying to buck your hips to get his attention. He smiled up at you and slowly attached his lips to your cunt, sucking and lapping at it. You whined and cried out, your fingers gripping the edge of the desk beneath you.
He smiled into your cunt and slowly moved his tongue side to side, making you gasp and arch your back almost painfully. "Konig!" You gasped, your hands now gently grabbing onto his shoulders. This felt so dirty, he was still in his gear, helmet and everything and your cunt was bare and weeping for him. He moved his tongue in slow circles, making your legs shake and your moans more high pitched as you felt your first of many orgasms approach. "that's it, Hase." He cooed, massing your clit with his thumb while he still licked at your dripping hole.
Your back arched hard as you felt the coil in your stomach snap, and you let out a desperate moan, your legs had been placed on Konig's shoulders so he could get a better angle as he licked you clean, despite your moaning and whining he still focused his tongue at your clit, determined to make you cum at least once more. "I'm gonna use a finger or two, ja?" He asked, as you nodded and opened your legs further for him.
He gently removed his gloves, and lubricated his finger with his spit before gently shoving it inside your needy cunt, making you groan slightly at the stretch, you were slightly surprised this hurt, but to be fair his fingers were huge. He gave you a moment to relax, kissing your thigh before slowly moving his finger in a come here motion, making your hips jolt and your legs tighten around his shoulders. He moved his other hand to spread your leg open, and you gasped and stuttered as he massaged his finger inside of your cunt.
You whined his name as he sucked on your clit, gently kissing it with his teeth as he licked and sucked on it. You were already oversensitive as your second orgasm hinted in your stomach. Konig felt you slightly clenching and slowly and gently added another finger, making you moan at the feeling. "Jesus fuck." You whined, moving your hips slightly as he made a 'come here' motion with his fingers, touching your g-spot, making you cry out and jolt forward slightly.
"that's it maus, just like that." He soothed, his eyes trained on your face as you felt your second orgasm hit you, making you gasp and throw your head back as his fingers worked you through your high. He chuckled as he removed his fingers, kissing your cunt before standing and undoing his belt gently, bending down as he did to kiss your forehead. You whined, moving your fingers to help him get rid of the belt.
He discarded his pants and let your fingers trace over his bulge, making him blush and groan at the feeling of your delicate fingers. You pulled down the silk boxers and watched his red cock fall out, pre-cum already leaking from the swollen and puffy tip. He was bigger than you thought, making you slightly gasp at the sight of him. You couldn't exactly get a good measurement, but he was probably a little bigger than 7 inches. His cock curved slightly, making your cunt leak more if possible. You opened your thighs, letting him move closer to you. He bent down, kissing your red cheek and smiling at you.
He let you grab his cock as you slowly put the tip into your cunt, making you sigh at the familiar stretch. You were no virgin, but you'd never had much more than 6 inches. You gasped as he slowly leaned in, sinking a few more inches in. You hissed at the stretch, his sheer girth making you gasp and tremble. He massaged your hips, slowly soothing you with encouraging words.
When he finally bottomed out, you both gasped. He groaned, and he visibly fought to try and not fuck you like a starving man. He let your head fall into his chest and he slowly began to move with your permission.
He moaned out, the feeling of your walls clenching around his making him hiss in pleasure. "Fuck." He growled, looking down at your tear stained face, leaning your head back and rolling your bottom lip between your teeth. "s' okay, you can go a little faster." You whined, letting your legs tighten around Konig's hips. He nodded, leaning you flat on your back as he slowly began to thrust faster, looking for any signs of discomfort from his sweet medic. He groaned as he saw your mouth fall open and your eyes droop as sweet moans fell from your mouth.
He didn't know when he did, but he let his control slip and now he pounded into you roughly, making tears of pleasure roll down your face as you cried out, your fingers scratching at his clothed arms. "Shit shit shit!" You cried, already feeling another orgasm rush through your cunt, making you squeeze around Konig's fat cock. Thankfully he'd had enough patience and didn't cum on the spot, but his thrusts became slightly sloppy, letting you know to savor the fleeting moment you assumed this was.
You cried out, babbling incoherent sentences as he thrusted harder, grabbing your hips and tilting into you slightly, making him get even deeper as he moved with you. You bucked your hips, encouraging him to cum. He moaned out, grabbing your waist and lifting you slightly, moving you onto his cock like you were a fleshlight.
As you clenched around him, whining his name he groaned, cumming and painting the fleshy walls of your cunt white with his seed. You whined at the hot feeling of him filling you, making you sigh and moan with relief. He groaned, gently letting you slump against the table as his cock stayed rooted inside of you. He kissed your tears away, and kissed you on your plush lips, smiling when you whined into his mouth.
He slowly removed his cock and bent down, pushing his cum back into your overstimulated cunt. Chuckling as you gasped. "Maybe my cum will take and I'll see you fat with my child, hm?" He laughed, kissing your cunt before leaning back up and towering over you. "Guess we'll have to see, hm kleiner Hase?" He said.
You guessed the moment wasn't so fleeting after all.
_____
(translations)
Hase - Bunny
dreckiges Mädchen - dirty girl
Ja - Yeah
Maus - Mouse
kleiner Hase - little bunny
_____
a/n - the art is not mine, but if someone would please tag the artist because I can't find them! 🤍
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hyungszn · 3 months
Text
rained out | feat. skz
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sex might be the only “sport” where rain is acceptable, maybe even encouraged.
— rating; e for explicit
— pairing(s); stray kids x reader
— author’s note; happy late birthday to me!!! sorry to anyone who reads this, it is HIGHLY self indulgent! don’t ask me how long this is because i have no idea and wrote it in drafts like a crazy bitch. tagging @hanjibug since she liked the snippet so much LOL
— warnings; unprotected sex, creampie (duh!), multiple partners, polyamory, ot8 shenanigans, squirting, banter, dirty talk, daddy kink, copious amounts of body fluids, bukkake (yeeeaaahhh), male x male implications, humiliation, degradation, praise, uhm. i don’t even remember all the shit i’m supposed to be tagging.
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“hah! mmmm,” comes your choked noises, obnoxiously loud in the otherwise mostly silent room.
you can barely keep your eyes open, onslaught of pleasure making you go nearly crosseyed. if you were anymore coherent you’d be shying away from the thick cock that’s plunging in and out of your cunt, but you’re very much not. instead, you writhe and cant your hips up, offering up the soppy, warm channel of your pussy to the man above you. he fills you up well, stretching your walls out nicely, the friction against your insides so mind-numbing that you forget their are seven other men watching you and your little pussy get wrecked.
“ooohh, fuck,” someone coos, causing your cunt to clench up tightly, “listen to that.”
as if to make a point, the wet, papping sounds of chan’s thrusts get a little louder. they’re wetter sounding, your slick webbing between your puffy cunt and chan’s pelvis. above you, chan laughs, nosing up the column of your throat as he thrusts faster, releasing a coo of his own when you whimper.
“hyung, it’s my turn. c’mon,” jisung whines, eyes glued to where chan’s dick reappears from your cunt — hard, leaking, and covered in cream.
“no, no, no,” you gasp, thighs shaking on either side of his hips. “daddy, d-don’t go,” you whine, hands locking onto his wrists where they sit beside your head.
“awh,” chan croons, kissing your mouth once as he shakes free of your grip easily, “i’ll be back, baby.”
you’re left with your mouth fixed in a watery pout, though it doesn’t last long, view quickly filled with shaggy hair and honeyed skin. jisung smiles, a bit out of breath as he bounces on his toes. you want to smile back but he’s kissing you quickly before dragging you across the bed, fixing you sideways.
an eager mouth descends upon you again, working over your lips, down your neck, and across your sweaty skin. it’s quite the change from the fast-paced, deep fucking chan had chosen to bestow upon you. you welcome jisung’s efforts with quiet hums and deep sighs, legs twitching where they’re drawn up beside his head. they only begin to shake more the closer he draws to the apex of your thighs, where your abused, little cunt awaits.
“jisung,” you whimper, squeezing his puffy cheeks between your plush thighs.
“hi, my baby,” he giggles, high pitched laughter trailing into a guttural groan. jisung hugs your thighs to his face, inhaling hungrily. it’s embarrassing to say the least, but he’s sucking the pudge of your clit into his mouth before you have the chance to say anything.
“oh, o-oh,” you sigh, lacing your fingers through his hair. “sungie,” you drawl when his tongues laves over your clit, tracing circles over and around it. “fuck, your m-mouth!”
“mm,” he hums, mouth full of pussy, slurping up your slick and his own spit as he goes. “so fuckin’ good.”
“please, please,” you whine, head turning over to the side, “wanna come, need t’come.”
you don’t know who you’re begging to and you’re not quite sure who to focus on. jisung’s tongue works magic between your thighs, but there are seven other men also orchestrating your demise. you know they take pride in it, watching your chest heave and your tits bounce with all of your squirming. of course, the second your eyes roll back, someone decides you’ve had enough. jisung’s whine is even louder than yours, neck bent awkwardly as minho pulls him away by his hair.
“that’s enough for you, jisungie,” minho teases, leaning down to taste your cunt from jisung’s lips. you pussy throbs and aches, watching their tongues tangle together.
minho pulls away and pats the younger male’s cheek patronizing, “don’t pout,” he croons, “hyung wants a go now.”
“no,” you gasp and sob, pushing your hips up and against nothing, “you’re m-mean, min. sungie, daddy, help —,” you try, cut off short when someone lands a stinging slap to the inside of your thigh.
“awh,” the aforementioned man tuts, clucking his tongue. despite your protests you let him manhandle you back to the center of the bed easily, positioning you just the way he wants.
“you think i’m mean, huh?”
“y-yes,” you stammer, jolting when you feel the length of his cock slide along your wet folds.
“mm,” he hums, head tilting thoughtfully. you watch — suspended in time — as minho taps the bud of your clit with the head of his cock, the sticky noises flowing out into the room.
you can’t help but shudder, body relaxing against your better judgement, turning watery eyes up to minho’s menacing gaze. he circles your opening once, flicking his fringe from his eyes. there is a smile, soft yet not, before you’re speared open, full of several inches far far too quickly. he laughs at your squeal, hands pressing the backs of your thighs back and down to spread you open for him.
“and to think i w-was gonna let you come,” he pouts, tone breathy as he fucks into you brutally, hips slapping against your skin.
the room erupts in laughter and you can do nothing but furrow your eyebrows and squeal, mouth stuck open in silent screams as minho fucks you within an inch of your life. his thrusts are quick and short, strokes mean as they pummel your insides to a pulp. still you are a good girl, hands ripping at the sheets instead of batting him away, eager to swallow up whatever minho deems you worthy of.
“christ, it’s fucking talking,” jeongin groans, squeezing his own dick. “pussy’s always so loud when you fuck it.”
“t-that’s cause it loves me,” minho gripes back, grinning, “ain’t that right, kitty?”
“uuuunnnhh,” you moan, incapable of answering any questions.
somewhere off yonder you can hear chan chastising minho for being so rough, but even your hazy, fucked-dumb brain knows there’s no really heat behind it. you’re leaking tears at this point, all sniffly as minho slips out and away from you, leaving you teetering on the precipice of orgasm yet again. there’s someone turning you, flipping your body over onto your tummy, tucking your legs underneath you to give your some support but also to present your puffy cunt to yet another leaking cock.
the position leaves you facing seven pairs of eyes, displaying your teary vulnerability in a way that makes you feel shameful. of course, this is not allowed, so when you sob and try to tuck your face away and into the mattress, hyunjin’s long fingers are tugging at your hair to hoist your head back up.
“don’t look at away, baby,” he coos, face pink and lips looking extremely kissable. “wanna see that adorable face when—“
“bin-NIE!” you shout, cutting hyunjin off.
“yah! how’d you know?” he pouts, thick hands making a home for themselves amongst the fat of your hips, using his grip as leverage to keep pulling you back onto his cock.
“you literally put her into doggy every chance you get,” seungmin groans, but you’re not sure if it’s in disdain at changbin’s predictability or because your drooly, little face is beginning to look dumber and dumber every thrust.
“yeah, bin,” minho laughs, “not even i do that, and i’m the certified ass man of the group.”
“c-can’t help it,” changbin grunts, reaching one hand around to press against your pelvis and tilt it the slightest bit. “love this fuckin’ ass,” he says, grinding right into the little patch of swollen flesh that makes you choke on air.
“yeah, fuck,” he grins, still grinding through your twitches, “there it is!”
the ‘it’ being the steady stream of liquid that’s being fucked out of your cunt. you’re locked up tight, eyes crossed and tongue lolling out stupidly. but that’s why changbin loves getting you in doggy, even though he’s not getting to watch your face. the way his cock is shaped, you never fail to squirt on his cock— especially like this, especially when he’s not the one to go first.
your brain doesn’t even come back online before you’re empty again, eagerly being pulled back onto someone’s awaiting tongue. plump lips suck and lick at your swollen cunt, slurping up slick and liquid like they’re getting paid to do it. you slap at the mattress a few times, moans sounding wrecked to shit. you wiggle, grinding your pussy down onto soft lips and a hard chin, chasing the remnants of your orgasm.
“you’re fuckin’ nasty, bro,” jisung cheers on. “that pussy’s good, ain’t it, ‘lix?”
“mhm,” felix rumbles slurping at your pussy so hard that your labia stretches out from your pussy with the movement. “love sloppy seconds.”
you’d be embarrassed, even offended, if you didn’t know the truth of it. felix loves when you’ve been thoroughly used, loves eating your cunt when its soft and wet, when you’re incoherent and uninhibited, able to rut that pretty, abused pussy all over his eager tongue. between him and jisung, your pussy gets kissed plenty, and that’s not even accounting for the way your daddy eats it to the fucking bone when he has the time.
“oh, god, oh, god,” you groan, cunt throbbing. “pl-please, please!”
“here,” a swift slap to your ass has you reeling, “gotchu something to whine about.”
it’s jeongin and the slide of his cock into your weeping hole is so glorious that you do, in fact, whine, throwing your ass back to swallow up his cock inside your greedy, little cunt. jeongin slaps at your ass again, large hands getting greedy as he squeezes and pulls at your plump flesh. he’s so big, your little, baby boy, and he fucks like a train. you can’t say you don’t like it, wouldn’t even if you could.
“innie, innie,” you babble, reaching back to pat at his abs with one hand. “s’good!”
“yeah, i know,” he snorts, holding your hand flat to his stomach, while the other holds steady to your ass. “we know how to fuck this slutty pussy, don’t we?”
“y-yeah, yeah,” you sigh, falling into a secure lull. in this, you press yourself down against the mattress, popping your ass up towards the man behind you.
which, unfortunately, is your first mistake. naturally, jeongin takes the opening like the opportunist he is, sliding a calloused thumb across your vulnerable and exposed asshole. the shocked moan that trickles out of you as he presses against it, shocks them all. you feel jeongin’s cock twitch inside you, swear you can feel the heat of his precum dripping against your walls.
“fuck,” minho groans, balls feeling heavy. “gonna let us fuck that hole next time, yeah?”
“uh huh,” you pant, upset again when jeongin, too, slides away, just like the others. “all my holes’re yours.”
“good,” seungmin pipes up. “as it should be.”
you’re being turned again, once again flopped onto your back. you mumble a thanks, stretching out while you can. inevitably someone will squish you up again, folding you into positions that you think are mean and unjust but that will ultimately have your pussy gushing and creaming anyway. the thing about seungmin is that you never know what you’re going to get with him. he can be cruel like minho but he can also but kind and giving; he gives you whiplash in a way that no one else can sometimes.
“don’t look at me like that,” he tuts, pulling your legs so that the backs of them are flat against his chest and stomach, circling his lithe arms around your knees. “i’m not gonna be mean to you,” he tells you watching as you relax, “this time.”
someone guides his dick into your pussy and the hand lingers, sliding its fingers between your sodden folds to rub softly at your clit. your eyes roll around in your head as the seungmin works you up again on his dick. you sigh and huff, clenching your walls around the length of seungmin’s dick like you’re trying to pull him over the edge too. too enraptured in making sure he doesn’t topple you over the edge, he just shakes his head and laughs, giving you a few hard, deep thrusts as warning as well.
“m-minnie, ‘m close again,” you breathe, trembling in seungmin’s hold.
“okay,” he acquiesces, much easier than he would any other time. “one more to go, puppy.”
“saved the best for last,” hyunjin says, earning several boos from the others.
he’s not entirely wrong though, if you’re being honest. your second orgasm always takes a little longer, which is typically why hyunjin goes last. his cock’s sensitive and your pussy kinda does him in when it’s gooey and wet from all the use. bright side to that is, hyunjin fucks like a dream when he’s done-in, and you both know that this was orchestrated perfectly for that very reason. you’ll be squirting again in no time.
“sheesh,” hyunjin whines, finding a home between your legs. his dick slips and slides a few times, missing your hole enough times that you let out a tiny sound of frustration, reaching between the two of you to help him find his way inside.
“oh, oh,” you sigh, nodding out your pleasure as he slides in, long cock feeling like it’s knocking into your diaphragm.
“f-fuck, you’re so wet, baby,” he tells you, hooking your knees over the crooks of his elbows. “cunt so good.”
you preen at the compliment, basking in its filth. with hands resting on your tummy, you press inward on the spaces you swear you can feel hyunjin’s length wrecking havoc. it tightens you up, makes the tall man shudder and whine, dark eyes with blown out pupils fixed on yours. hyunjin’s move from fluid rolls to somehow even deeper strokes, making your jaw positively ache with how quickly it drops open to release your moans.
“k-kiss me,” he says, leaning down into your space and fucking that impossibly long dick into places that hurt as much as they feel good. “c’mon, gimme’a kiss.”
you try your best, let him blanket you to the point that he’s driving himself further, pretty much bruising your cervix. he gets his kiss, soft, bitten lips caressing your own until you’re suddenly batting at his shoulders, cunt gushing again.
“fuck!” you squeak when the stream doesn’t stop, hyunjin being more than what to keep fucking it out of you. “okay, okay, jinnie! no m-more!”
you think he listens, because you get a second of reprieve, but you’re sorely mistaken. your sore cunt is being split, once again, open on chan’s cock. you’re not sure when that switch happened, but you’re quickly thrusting both of your hands out towards chan’s abs, pressing at them and writhing in an attempt to get away.
“n-no, no, no!”
“told you i’d be back,” he gleams, pulling you by your hips into the cradle of his own.
you get drilled. that’s the only way to describe it. and chan gets exactly what he wants from you, constant spurts of liquid that splatter across your body and his. watching you jerk around like a livewire provides entertainment for everyone, a sultry visual for them all to jerk their cocks to. and they do, crowding around you as the moments pass, raining down on you the same way you’ve rained on them. your body is soon covered in the cum of nine separate people, the ultimate claim.
“happy birthday, little one,” chan rasps, smiling tiredly. he truly feels like the top dog here; he’s the only one who’s gotten to cream your cunt this go around.
you don’t respond, silent and blinking tiredly at the ceiling.
“i think we finally broke her,” jisung says worriedly, tapping gently at your cheek.
“yeah,” jeongin snorts, “broke her in, you mean.”
there’s someone swiping at your skin. you assume it’s to clean the cum off of you, but can’t bring yourself to ask or even grunt. your brain needs at least five to seven business days to come back online for real.
“so, can we still eat her pussy when she’s like that?” felix asks, zero shame in his game.
“dude, you are so nasty,” jisung giggles, but minho recognizes that mischievous glint in his irises.
“as if you’re not dying to help him.”
“mind your business!” jisung shrieks at the elder, nonetheless sinking to his knees alongside his friend.
point proven, you think. happy birthday to you, indeed.
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© hyungszn 2023; please do not copy, steal, repost, modify, translate, or recommend on any other platform without my permission!
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