#make my trip international flights | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pprodsuga · 3 months

Text

tides of regret | heeseung

summary: in the year since heeseung first rejected your love confession, you've tried everything to get over him. a trip to europe makes you realize you miss your former best friend more than anything, and it makes heeseung realize he's got it all wrong.

notes: aaand she's here! this is 24.4K words worth of my heart and soul. consider this a token of my appreciation for welcoming me on enhablr. i sincerely hope you enjoy it. <3

deep cuts: #1

warnings: angst/internal self doubt, playful banter, dirty talking, praise, slight degradation, oral (m and f receiving), dry humping, fingering, mentions of exhibitionism and face sitting, nipple sucking, spit, brief moment of anal (tongue only), condom removal, unprotected sex, creampie.

For @enha-stars – may this story rip you apart and stitch you back together.

masterlist

Incheon feels lonely at three in the morning.

The overhead lights being turned off because of the lack of travelers at this hour makes the airport feel bigger than it actually is. It’s too quiet without the familiar sounds of luggage wheels on the linoleum or overhead speakers announcing flight changes every ten minutes. You don’t think you’ve ever been to an airport so early in your life.

It’s quiet enough to leave you alone with your bothersome thoughts. In the years you’ve been away from home as you studied abroad, you can’t help but feel a gravitational pull towards life in Seoul and the people in it. The familiarity of your home outweighs the adventure you once yearned for in your youth, and now you’re left with the exciting notion that, this time, you’ll know when you’ll be coming back.

The terminal has an abundance of seating. Your backpack rests on the seat beside you as Jay double checks the gate number while the rest of your friends find a spot on the seats next to you, attempting to find an ounce of comfort in the dimly lit area.

“I know leaving early saved us hundreds of dollars, but I need sleep,” Sunghoon says from beside you. His usually well kept hair falls in all sorts of places like he woke up without a second thought and hailed a taxi the minute he opened his eyes.

“You’ll thank me later,” Jay says. “We can sleep on the plane.”

“Our flight doesn’t leave for another two hours,” Jake whines from beside him as he yawns. “How am I supposed to sleep on these god forsakes chairs?”

“Quit whining and try,” Jay retorts. He looks behind him to see the rest of your friend group approach before glancing over to you. “Doing okay?”

“How come Y/N gets preferential treatment?” Jake beckons.

“Because she isn’t a nuisance like you,” Jay immediately fires back before diverting his attention towards you again.

“I’m alright,” you say, stifling a yawn behind your hand. “Just cold and sleepy.”

“Hopefully they turn off the damn AC,” Sunghoon says as he pulls his sweatshirt over his head. “I feel like my veins are being injected with ice.”

“It’ll warm up when more people come,” Jay reasons. “I wish there was a coffee stand that was open. I need a cup.”

“I could go for one,” you agree. “I’m trying to stay awake for the next couple of hours so I can sleep on the plane.”

The rest of your friend group appear behind Jay and you look down to check your phone for any notifications when Heeseung catches your eye. It takes you by surprise and you abruptly look back at your screen and busy yourself by aimlessly scrolling through social media as he attempts to occupy the empty seat beside you, but Jake beats him to it.

“I’m gonna freeze to death and then all of you are gonna have to deal with my frozen body.” Jake dramatically slouches down onto the seat until his head finds your shoulder, nuzzling his cheek as if trying to find comfort in you. “Jesus, Y/N, you’re so warm.”

You laugh. “I wore layers.”

“You’re gonna regret that when we get on the plane,” Jake mumbles.

Heeseung, from the corner of your eyes, opts to move to the seats in front of you. You try not to pay him any mind.

You snort. “Yeah, well I can take these layers off while you freeze until you become an icicle.” Jake hums when you let your head fall onto his.

“You know I’m not built for the cold. Australia’s my home.”

“And yet you moved to Korea,” Sunghoon provokes.

Jungwon and Riki are rummaging through the bag of snacks you’d brought for an early breakfast until the restaurants and coffee stands around you open up. Jake’s right, it’s far too cold to stop shivering, but you suppose you’re grateful that the discomfort distracts you from sleeping too early.

“I can’t believe we’re finally going on this trip,” Sunoo says from above you. With your head still on Jake’s, you turn to look at the boy speaking. “I’m really excited for you to show us where you’ve been for the past four years.”

A tiny smile graces your lips. “I’m excited to show you around London and Paris. The latter is a two hour train ride. My friends and I would go every few weekends or so to explore the city. Pictures and videos don’t do them justice.” You sigh as you reminisce. “I really did think that I’d end up living there when I graduated.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Missed home too much, I guess.” You shrug. “Though, I can’t believe Riki went through a growth spurt in the last two years that I was gone.”

“You went back to Okayama before Y/N came back for holiday break, right?” Jungwon asks, looking between the both of you.

“That’s right,” Riki says. “I was sad that I couldn’t see you before you went back to school.”

“Now he’s twice my height.” You gesture at the younger boy. He’s too shy with the sudden affection and chooses to bury his head in Jungwon’s shoulder. “You were so little.”

“Shut up,” he mumbles.

“I can’t believe you’re fluent in English now.” Jungwon pushes Riki off of his arm. “You, Jake, and Jay are kind of scary when you speak English.”

“It was a little hard at first. I used to watch a lot of American cinema so I could understand it better than I could speak it. But I can’t lie, it’s fun being able to talk to them in English.”

“You were so cute trying to string phrases together during your first summer back,” Jay coos. “Texting her in English was funny because she couldn’t understand the difference between spelling.”

“Poor Jake.” You pull your head from his and look down at him. “You probably had aneurysms looking at my grammar.”

You lift your head to see that the aforementioned has fallen asleep amongst the conversation with his mouth slightly ajar and soft snores echoing past your ear. You don’t move when Jay asks if you want Jake off of your shoulder, but you shake your head.

Conversation falls flat when the group unanimously decides that sleepiness is overtaking the need to socialize. Jay keeps checking his watch to look out for the time while your eyes try to look anywhere but at Heeseung.

It’s odd, the way two people can lose a friendship overnight. The heartbreak that came with romantic rejection wasn’t nearly as bad as realizing texts and phone calls were far fewer in between the moment you had arrived back in Europe to finish your studies. It hurt to know that neither one of you felt comfortable enough to see each other when you were back in your hometown unless the two of you were invited to hang out with mutual friends.

Still, seeing Heeseung after he had rejected your confession felt like a punch to the gut.

Long gone were the days of being able to send him unimportant updates about your life abroad or what you were doing at any given summer day back home. You couldn’t ask him to go to the restaurants you used to frequent near his house or yours. You certainly couldn’t call him at random hours because you were bored and missed his voice.

It wasn’t for the lack of trying. It felt like things might've gone back to normal after a short period of not talking, but your texts going unanswered and your calls going to voicemail was all you needed to know.

Perhaps it’s why you’re comfortable spearheading this vacation with Jay, who had made it a point to visit you in London when you’d chosen to stay behind instead of going home for the holiday break. The two of you had never spent time alone prior to then, but it touched you that he’d go out of his way to dedicate an entire day to visit you when he was there for a family vacation.

Coming back to Korea the summer after graduating felt like you were making the right choice, even if your head was telling you to find a home in Europe. Still fresh from your unresolved rejection, stepping off of the plane and knowing you wouldn’t be returning back to your university’s town made the uncomfortable reality of coming face-to-face with Heeseung sink in. You’d have to live with the consequences.

But it’s been eight months since you returned, six months since Jay’s dad was gracious enough to offer you a position on his marketing team, and five months since he encouraged your entire friend group to take a trip to your old stomping grounds.

The proposition felt too sudden, especially with how little experience you had working with his team, but you’d spend an evening with the Park family for him to consider you an honorary member. Though, you’re sure Jay might’ve told him something happened between you and Heeseung, especially after telling everyone you wouldn’t be coming home for the holidays.

To this day, you haven’t uttered a single word to your friends about what happened the night Heeseung rejected your love confession. If you know him as well as you think you do, you don’t think he's told anyone either.

“Cafes are opening up,” Jay notes. Sunghoon’s ears perk up. “Three of us should go get food and drinks while the rest save our seats.”

The airport overhead lights must’ve turned on while you were deep in thought. Jay’s right, the coffee stands have opened and it’s likely due to the new influx of travelers who’ve arrived at the airport. Foot traffic is still light and you know Jay wants to get ahead of the crowd.

Jake has woken up because of the growing murmur around him and lifts himself off of your head to wipe the sleep out of his eyes. He yawns once more but tries his best not to fall asleep again.

“How long was I out?”

“Twenty minutes, give or take,” Sunghoon answers.

“Sorry for sleeping on you,” Jake apologizes.

“It’s okay. You needed it.” He scrunches his face, not used to the new lighting. “Jay, I’ll come with you to get coffee. I need to stretch my legs.”

“I’ll help as well.” Heeseung speaks for the first time in a while and his voice nearly catches you off guard.

“Sure.” Jay gathers everybody’s orders before the two of you follow him around the terminal.

The line isn’t unbearably long, but with Heeseung towering behind you, it feels like you’ve been standing for hours. You shift from one foot to the other in order to find a happy medium to no avail. Jay orders for the group and you pay attention to him more than you care to when you realize Heeseung is now standing beside you to make room for more people to wait in line. He’s considerate like that and you hate it.

When the baristas are finished with your order, you reach for the bag of sandwiches in your haste to escape Heeseung. But your fingers touch the steam and you drop the bag into the counter with a hiss.

“Careful,” Heeseung says. “Don’t get hurt, please.”

Your clumsy nature was always something he teased you for. Heeseung sounds so sincere about his worry that you think you’d rather him pour all of the hot coffee on you instead.

“Thanks.” You grab the bag with so much as a single moment of eye contact before realizing Jay has started walking back.

Breakfast is eaten in silence. Everyone is too tired to speak, save for Jake whose twenty minute nap has rendered him a little more awake than the rest of you. You and Sunghoon share your egg sandwich and chocolate croissant respectively without a word spoken between the two of you.

Meanwhile, Heeseung is staring at the way your thighs are close to Sunghoon’s. He had shifted his body closer to yours in order to form a makeshift table so that sharing pastries wouldn’t result in crumbs on the floor. You can feel Heeseung's gaze on your kneecap and it makes your face flush.

Sunoo and Jake offer to throw everybody’s trash away when you’re all done eating. The airport is in full swing by now and everyone has said their graces and apologized to Jay for giving him a hard time with how early they arrived.

It seems that sleep has threatened to overtake you. You’re waiting in line to scan your plane ticket and board the aircraft, but the sudden warmth of the airport has caused you to yawn a few too many times. Riki’s standing in front of you and his height makes for a perfect makeshift wall to lean on. Or, that’s what your tired brain is telling you, because you slouch forward and let your cheek rest against his back as you close your eyes.

“Sleepy girl,” you hear him chuckle. You merely nod in acknowledgement.

Your comfort is short lived when he softly nudges you because the line has moved. Soon, you scan your ticket and give the airline agent a smile as thanks before waiting to set foot on the aircraft.

Sunghoon notices your dropped shoulders and wordlessly takes your backpack off of you.

“You don’t need to do that,” you say with a frown when you see Sunghoon carrying your belongings with him.

“Let me hold it,” says Sunghoon. “You look like you’re about to fall over with the extra weight.”

“If you insist.”

“Let us take care of you, yeah?” Jay interrupts, bumps his shoulder with yours. “You’ve been running all over Europe these past four years and we’ve only seen you a handful of times. You deserve to relax on this trip.”

“I can’t believe you guys are being so sweet on me. I know that’s ending the second we get back to Korea.”

The two boys laugh. “Well, it’s only fair, I guess. You’re like, the mom friend.”

“Jay is the mom friend.” The aforementioned doesn’t argue.

The squeeze of the aircraft is tight and you’re desperately trying to look for your seat. It seems that Sunghoon is sitting in your row, which excites you, but you’ve come to realize that you’ve obtained the ungodly middle seat. You make peace with it for a brief moment before Heeseung clears his throat awkwardly.

“Let’s switch seats,” he says from behind you. His ticket shows the window seat right next to yours. “I know you hate middle seats.”

“No, I couldn’t ask that of you.”

“You’re not asking.” He says it with a smile and it makes you cower into yourself. “You should move to your new seat so we don’t hold up the line.”

Heeseung suggests it in a way that is reminiscent of the days where he’d give up his sweet treats because you wanted a taste. It tugs at your heartstrings but you don’t have time to think about that when you notice how the plane is starting to fill up.

Reluctantly, you slide into the window seat while Heeseung and Sunghoon follow suit. Your seat belts are buckled and in no time, the aircraft takes flight.

For the next hour, Heeseung looks like he wants to say something to you. The headphones you've brought do well to cancel out the noise, for the most part. You can see from the corner of your eye that he glances at you from time to time, but you ignore it and choose to get comfortable for the long haul.

When you notice the flight attendants come with the beverage cart, you take it as a cue to get comfortable and try to get some sleep for the next few hours. Likely due to the lack of sleep from the night prior, you fall asleep as soon as your head rests against the plane.

You don’t hear Heeseung requesting an extra bottle of water for you.

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

When you come to, you’re barely able to register that it’s time to eat the first meal on the flight. You take your headphones off and put it in your backpack as you blink the sleep out of your eyes.

“Chicken or beef?”

Heeseung looks at you, expecting an answer.

“Hm?”

He laughs softly. “Chicken or beef?”

Your eyes dart between him and the flight attendants when you realize they’re about to approach.

“I heard them asking people which meal they want,” Heeseung explains. “So, chicken or beef?”

“Beef.” You clear your throat.

“Beef it is.”

Sunghoon requests chicken when the flight attendant arrives. Heeseung orders beef for the both of you before you get the chance. If he notices you looking at him strangely, he doesn’t comment on it.

The food comes quicker than expected and the meal tastes decent, though you’re trying your best not to elbow Heeseung as you cut away at your portion. He seems engrossed in the movie in front of him while you peek at what he’s watching—Iron Man, to no one’s shock.

You soften a bit at the nostalgia that comes with Heeseung and Marvel, namely the rainy days in your youth spent marathoning the superhero movies. There had been one year in high school when he’d dressed up as Tony Stark and you as Pepper Potts despite a few girls your age whispering behind your back at the matching costumes out of jealousy. You don’t think you can think of the franchise without thinking of Heeseung.

The memories almost bring a smile to your face. Heeseung seems to notice you glancing at his screen in between bites. You avoid eye contact when you realize he caught you staring and focus on cutting your meal, praying that Heeseung will stop looking at you and watch the movie instead.

But he takes one earbud out and holds it to you.

“Do you want to watch it with me?” He’s halfway through. You tell him such but he doesn’t care.

“I don’t want to jump in halfway through.”

“Come on, it’s not like you haven’t done that before.”

Heeseung says it with such nonchalance that it makes your stomach drop. He sees the way your eyes falter for a moment and the way you glance between his hand and the screen. You try to come up with excuses to refuse his offer, but you’ve got eight more hours until you land.

“Sure,” you settle. Heeseung gives you one headphone and resumes watching.

Between the meals being picked up and tray tables being put away, you manage to fall asleep in your seat. Sunoo sits in front of you and upon coming back from a quick bathroom trip, sees your head resting on Heeseung’s shoulder with his cheek propped on your head. The two of you are fast asleep despite the credits rolling and he can’t help but snap a quick photo.

You wake up some hours later when Sunghoon says your name. The cabin lights turning on temporarily blinds your vision as you wake up when you realize you’d managed to push yourself back enough to rest yourself against Heeseung’s arm.

“Oh God,” you say in shock, pulling yourself and the seat upright. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you.”

“It’s okay,” he replies, like he means it. “Sleeping on planes is uncomfortable. But I know you know that.”

You nod. “Yeah. It's too hard to get comfortable.”

“I can’t believe we’re spending two weeks in Europe. I’ve never been outside of Korea and Japan before. You’ll have to help me with my English.”

“Jay or Jake can also help with that.” You say it with a yawn and Heeseung’s eyes cast to the floor for a brief moment. You barely notice, gathering your own belongings as the flight descends.

“Yeah, I guess they can.”

When you land, the familiar disorientation of the time difference truly wakes you up. It’s eleven in the morning when the plane door finally opens and Jay’s moving a step ahead of you as he occupies space in the aisle way to grab his belongings. You follow suit and wait for your turn to exit amongst your friends and other travel goers.

Stepping out of the plane and into the familiar terrain of the Heathrow Airport reignites your attentiveness and you smile at the fond memories of being greeted by your university friends upon arriving. The familiar atmosphere of English travelers milling around the gate warms your chest with nostalgia.

You wait for the boys to emerge before signaling Jay, who follows beside you as you walk towards the baggage claim area. You lead him with little trouble down the escalator as the rest of your friends follow suit, yawning in an attempt to wake themselves up.

“It’s weird seeing you in your element,” Jay comments as he stands beside you, periodically checking the turnstile for his luggage. “A good kind of weird.”

“This airport might as well be my second home,” you tell him. “It feels routine to wait for my luggage at this point.”

“I’m tempted to sleep when we get to the hotel but I don’t want to mess up my sleep schedule more than it already is.” Jay pulls his luggage.

“Yeah, that’s smart. I think we should take an hour to freshen up and find a place to eat before we go exploring.”

“I can already hear Jake whining about it.”

The two of you share a laugh. “He’ll just have to get used to it. We can have an early night and rest up before we explore tomorrow.”

“He slept on the plane, for the most part,” Jay informs. “Surprisingly, he didn’t snore as loudly as he usually does.” He spots your luggage and takes it off of the belt for you.

On the other side of the carousel, Heeseung and Sunoo are standing together to find their own luggages.

“You guys looked pretty cozy,” Sunoo comments. “It was nice seeing you two like that again.”

“It felt nice,” he mutters. “I really missed her.”

Heeseung doesn’t have to tell Sunoo what happened between the two of you for him to know that you two aren’t as close as you used to be. The older boy feels nearly ashamed that his own friends have caught up on his awkward demeanor.

“Well, she’s back for good and we’re here on vacation. Try not to dwell on whatever it is that’s making you think too hard.”

Heeeung laughs. “I’ll try, Sunoo. It’s just hard when we’re not as close. How can I compete when we’re in her college town and how will I talk to her in Paris?”

“Well, you never know,” Sunoo says as he picks up his luggage. “Anything can happen in the City of Love.”

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

The hotel itself is modest in size. Quaint, old cobblestone surrounding the entryway like you remember it. The people are busy walking in and out of the meeting rooms in the lobby as you walk to the concierge to sort out the rooming situation. Jay stands beside to help distribute the keys and the employee behind the desk bids you a good stay.

The view from the fifth floor is spectacular already. You catch glimpses of the streets of London below you, street lights decorating the sidewalk and flowers surrounding the city. This feels like the London you remember and it adds a slight pep in your step.

“Alright, it’s decided that three of you are gonna share,” you say as you reach the first room. “The other four will be split into two rooms and I’ll get a room for myself.”

“That’s not fair,” Jake huffs.

“I refuse to share a room with any of you.” You pocket the key to the single bedroom. “Plus, Jay’s mom helped me make the arrangements when we planned the trip.”

“Favoritism,” Jake coughs. You nudge his side.

“To make it fair, everyone will pick up a key card without knowing the room number and flip it. That’ll determine who you room with.”

“Alright,” Jungwon says. “Fair enough.”

One by one, your friends pick their key cards and discover their roommates. Jake, Sunoo, and Riki are the unlucky three who will be rooming together for the duration of the week. Jay and Sunghoon are in the room directly across from theirs while Heeseung and Jungwon share a room.

“Let’s meet at the lobby in an hour,” Jay suggests. “We can get some lunch and do some exploring before deciding on dinner.”

“We can take it easy and sleep early tonight,” you add in. “I know that flying internationally is always a bitch and I try to time my sleep when I need to.”

The eight of you part ways. Your suite has a beautiful view of the sky and the room itself makes you feel like the main character of a romance film. The bed is just to your liking with pillows stacked to the nines. It feels nice to have a moment to yourself. With your friend Yunjin backing out of the trip at the last minute due to family conflicts, you hadn’t had time to think about anything other than arriving at the hotel safely.

You busy yourself with a shower and freshen up, pulling out options for you to wear for the rest of the night. You settle with something stylish yet comfortable and put enough makeup on your face until you’re satisfied with the person staring back at you in the bathroom mirror.

True to your word, you enter the lobby when you said you would. Jay and Sunghoon are already downstairs by the seats. Sunghoon stands to offer you the loveseat but you decline politely and sift through your phone until the rest of the guys arrive.

When they do, it’s like all eight of you collectively agree that hunger has overtaken you. You know of a nearby cafe that serves sandwiches from your days in university. You lead them to the quaint restaurant that has your friends staring at the art on the walls as you greet the cashier and order.

It’s a slow moment for the eight of you as you all eat in relative silence, the sound of quiet slurping audible from the coffees everyone has chosen to drink.

“Did you spend a lot of time here?” Jungwon asks.

“Around the area, yeah,” you say, looking around. The outdoor seating area is just towards the edge of the street with the weather being a cool, cloudy day. “I loved coming to cafe’s like these with my friends after class. We’d study until they kicked us out and then go for a drink or two.”

“We should go to a pub while we’re here,” Jake suggests. “I’ve always wanted to see an English pub. We have a few back in Australia.”

“I know just the place! My friend’s brother owns it and they know I’ll be in town for the next week. It would be nice to catch up with them.”

“Hopefully your friends here kept you out of trouble,” Sunghoon teases. You flick him with your fingers.

“I’m the most responsible one out of you seven and don’t you forget that.”

“Do you miss being here now that you’re back?” Riki asks in between sandwich bites. “God, I love London already.”

“You’re going to choke if you don’t slow down.” He apologies and takes a single bite. “Well, I think I miss my friends a lot. I don’t necessarily miss being in university, but I miss the freedoms that come with it.”

“I still can’t believe you spent four years of your life here,” Sunghoon says. “That’s insane when you think about how you cried when your aunt took you to Tokyo for a week when you were in middle school.”

The boys laugh and you frown. “I was twelve, okay? You wound me. But yeah, I think I grew out of my shell in high school and had this urge to travel but didn’t know how to do it. I was surprised when my parents encouraged me to apply to King’s College, even more so when I got accepted.”

“You’ve always been too good to stay in one place for too long,” Jake says. “We got close until halfway through our first year of high school, I think. I always got the sense that you wanted more than what our hometown could offer.”

“I always wanted to move to the heart of Seoul eventually. But I think I needed to come here in order to figure that out.”

“Would you really have stayed in London if you had the chance?”

You avoid looking at Heeseung, whose attention averted from his phone to you.

“I don’t know,” you say honestly. “But what I do know is that I’m happy to be back in Korea and I’m happy to be traveling to Europe.”

“You always did have that sense of adventure,” Heeseung says. “I remember you were the one who always got us in trouble when we explored a little too far.”

“Your mom was pissed that time I walked a little too far down the shoreline when we went to Jeju.” The memory feels warm despite your discomfort at having Heeseung’s eyes on you. “I didn’t know who she wanted to kill more, me or you.”

“Definitely me. You could do no wrong in her eyes.”

“What happened?” Sunoo asks.

“My family and Heeseung’s took a trip to Jeju Island when we were around seven, if I remember correctly. I’d taken swimming lessons and thought I could show off my new skills at the beach we were at, but there was a wave that was a bit too much for me to handle.”

“She was nearly swallowed by the ocean.” Heeseung hits his knee with his palm as he recalls the memory. “I mean, I was seven and it seemed like the wave was gigantic but to my mom, it must’ve been just tall enough that she could see over it.”

“She yelled at him for the rest of the night because she had to pull me out from under the water,” you add. “I was fine. My parents laughed it off but his mom was so pissed at him for not telling me to come back to the shore.”

Echoes of laughter fill the space. It feels nice to be able to laugh like this with Heeseung, temporarily forgetting why you were so awkward around him in the first place.

When the check is paid, you lead the group around the area. Sunghoon takes out his camera and captures everything that inspires him while Sunoo and Riki are off to explore the shops around. It brings warmth to your chest to see your friends enthusiastically exploring the space you once called home. It had been a dream of yours since Jay came to visit and let you drag him around town for the day. Having them with you feels like you’re healing a part of yourself.

You duck into the quiet bookstore you used to frequent while you were a student. Filled with novels and trinkets from floor to ceiling, it feels familiar to you.

You get lost in thought when you glance at the books in front of you and you don’t notice Heeseung approaching.

“Still love books?”

“Jesus,” you gasp, clutching your chest. “You scared me.”

“Sorry,” he laughs. “Seems like you still scare easily.” You hate that he knows you so well. Clearing your throat, you put the book back.

“Yes, to both. I used to come to this bookstore a lot when I had free time.”

He looks around. “It looks like a nice place.”

“They have a reading nook in the back. The owner is this sweet older woman who was the first person to help me with my English when I first moved. I think she let me read books for free because I used to bring her sweets.”

“That sounds like something you’d do.” You cast your eyes to the floor. “It’s crazy that there’s parts of you that I don’t know.”

“Yeah,” you mumble solemnly. Heeseung’s eyes bore into the side of your face as you pretend to look at the titles of the books.

“Do you talk to your college friends often?”

“All the time. My closest friends live all over the place. Two of them are from the area, one went to live in the States, and a few live in Busan.”

“I’ll bet it was nice to have some Korean friends when you moved. I remember you used call me to tell me about your first semester here.”

You can’t help but think about the first few months after you moved when you would call Heeseung for a bit of comfort when things felt too overwhelming. With Korea being nine hours ahead, you always felt a little too bothersome phoning when it was the middle of the night for him, not used to the time difference. But he always answered you or called back when he had the chance.

You’d spend hours on the phone, talking to him about how difficult it was to learn English and how making friends was not as easy as you thought it would be. Navigating the city felt lonely and isolating because you’d barely made friends in your classes in the first few weeks. Heeseung was there through all of it, reminding you that being eighteen years old in a new country made you brave despite feeling like you were a failure for not grasping a hold on life like you thought you would.

Falling asleep on the phone with him became a routine, too. Whether it was you who fell asleep after a long day or Heeseung, who had stayed up listening to your worries, the sound of his breathing made it feel like you were back home in Korea instead of exploring a grand new world.

Soon enough, you could talk your way around and piece together conversations with your classmates until you’d found friends who shared similar interests. Heeseung was the first person you told and the first person to tell you how proud he was that you extended your roots to learn about yourself away from home. You always thrived off of his praise as if making him proud was something you never sought out to do, but appreciated when it happened.

But that was four years ago. Whatever friendship you had with him then is not the one you have with him now.

“It was nice,” you settle. “I miss my college friends. You might get to meet some later in the week.”

“Nice,” he mutters to himself when you walk past him. “That’s really nice.”

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

The rest of the week is spent in your old stomping grounds, from touring your campus, to shopping, to sightseeing. The eight of you split up more often than not to explore different areas based on mutual interest. You find that Heeseung tends to gravitate towards you and you aren’t sure if it’s because he feels guilty for rejecting you or because he genuinely wants to explore what you want to do.

Still though, at least one other person joins you. It feels nice to have a buffer to avoid any awkward conversation or moments, especially when Heeseung trips over his words trying to talk to you.

The week goes by too quickly for your liking. Spending time in London has felt like coming back home, in a way. You’ll always have your memories here and this city will remain the same when you return in the future. Now, it no longer feels like the place you escape too because things got too hard back home.

Even with Heeseung next to you more often than not, you’ve found a happy medium The awkwardness dissipates when you set aside your indifference to show everybody your favorite places, watching them explore the city for themselves.

As expected, Riki and Jake have spent a little too much on clothing with the hopes that they can fit it into their luggage on the way back. It fits miraculously.

Your friend Leo, the one whose brother owns the pub you used to frequent, tells you he’s excited to see you after all these months. It’s a Friday night when you arrive, seeing it well populated. But it’s rather early in the evening before the rush hour, so you enjoy the relative quietness before people rush in.

Heeseung, on the other hand, has been in a stupor for the latter half of the week. It began when he managed to talk to you in the bookstore, but blossomed when he watched you navigate your way around the city. You barely looked at your phone for directions and had no problem switching to English when you greeted shop owners. Hearing you speak fluently in a language you once struggled with in your childhood made him feel somewhat removed from your life. The two of you used to joke that he was always better with English. Now, the tables have turned.

The fear that you’d told your school friends about what transpired between the two of you plants itself in the back of Heeseung’s mind. He worries that your friends won’t like him and that you’ve scorned his name, but he chides himself just as much as he worries because he knows you and how deeply you care about people.

Heeseung wishes he could go back in time to change what happened. He wishes that he’d admit his mistake and confess to you before you left. It had taken him a long time to confront his own feelings, but seeing you back in Korea made him realize he didn’t care if the relationship was long distance or not. He didn’t care as long as you were in his life.

The months spent apart without phone calls or texts were agony. He loathed hearing what you were up to from your mutual friends or when he accidentally watched your Instagram stories. Seeing you happy without him made his heart lurch, not out of possessiveness, but because he wished you were comfortable enough to share those moments with him.

To boil it down, Heeseung hopes this trip can undo a year’s worth of his ignorance.

But before he can think about that, your exclamation pulls him towards a strange man before you.

“Leo!”

The sheer volume of your voice doesn’t go unnoticed by Heeseung, who eyes the bloke the second you make a dash for him. His heart winces when your arms wrap around the stranger’s neck and as he spins you around, squeezing you for good measure. He isn’t pleased when Leo settles to let his arm rest around your waist instead of letting you go. He’s even less so when you don’t attempt to separate yourself from him.

“Hey, pretty girl,” Leo says with a boyish grin, accent making Heeseung nearly roll his eyes.

“This is Leo.” You let your head rest on his shoulder for a brief moment. “He’s one of my friends from university. I think we met in, what, second year?”

“Second year, auditing class with Professor Donahue on Mondays and Wednesdays,” he says. “God, that class was so boring.”

“He’s the friend whose brother owns the bar,” you explain to them. You introduce Leo to each friend respectively. “Jay and Jake are my friends who are fluent in English.”

“You can speak it and understand it as well, right?” Leo asks as he shakes Heeseung’s hand.

He nods while giving him a tight smile. “Just a little. I’m practicing.”

“Nah, you sound perfect already.”

Heeseung feels indifferent to see you in your element with people from your past. The bartender, who is Leo’s brother, tells you the first two rounds are on the house after he checks IDs. Riki and Jungwon are excited to have their first pub experience after you make them promise to take it slow and drink lots of water in between.

“It’s a bit weird seeing her be like that,” Leo says to Jay with a laugh. “When we first got to know each other, it was me who had to tell her to watch how much she drank.”

“Y/N, drinking?” Jake asks. “No way. Back in Korea, she got drunk maybe twice a year.”

“She and a mutual friend, Elizabeth, were as thick as thieves. They were like a package deal before we all graduated and until she moved to the States. They’d always go a little too hard after exam season was over or if people invited them out on a Saturday night.”

“Y/N’s always been the responsible one out of the bunch,” Jay adds. “In high school, there was one time she got so drunk that she nearly scaled the roof of my friend’s house. Heeseung nearly fell off trying to get her down. After that, she swore off alcohol.”

Heeseung makes a few comments in the conversation as he watches you catch up with Leo’s brother and as you facilitate conversation between the rest of the guys. There’s a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach when he realizes there’s a lot he doesn’t know about you.

The two of you talked less as you became more comfortable in your environment. At first, Heeseung took it to heart and made the assumption that you’d chosen your friends in England over him, but a stern conversation with his mother made him realize he was being juvenile. He could only comfort you so much when he was oceans away. It was probably a good thing that you were talking to him less because that must’ve meant you were as overwhelmed or scared like you were when you first moved to England.

You’d still call him a few times a week before bed–when Heeseung was getting ready for the day–to update him on everything that happened in the past week. You two texted more frequently than you conversed, sending him pictures of new places you’d discovered or him sending photos of your mutual friends with sad faces at the notion of you not being able to be there with them.

Heeseung had always felt a bit jealous of your time abroad. He loved Korea, but he yearned for the same sense of adventure you once had. Only, he hadn’t figured it out until halfway through university when it was too late to transfer or apply for a semester abroad. When Jay had proposed this trip and that his father would expense half of it, he jumped at the opportunity to go.

Although, he didn’t know it would hurt him this much.

Hearing you talk about your life here made him feel like it was his fault that he barely knew your life in England. It was so easy when the two of you lived a few blocks from each other; he’d run into you with your other friends on the street or know exactly where you were likely to be at any given moment. He knew you felt the same way about him too, as you always knew where to find him if you really needed him.

But it feels like this is the first time he’s seeing you for who you are as an adult, not the child that he grew up with.

Surely, Heeseung always knew you had a good head on your shoulders. You were always the more outspoken one who stood up for what you believed in, no matter how big or small. You never backed down if someone was giving you a hard time and it was one of the reasons why Heeseung had struck up a conversation with you as you two played in the sandbox after a few kids had stolen the toys he was playing with. That sense of responsibility and gratuity followed you into your adolescent and teenage years, too. Not once had Heeseung heard anyone say a bad word about your character. He’d like to think he had something to do with it, but deep down, Heeseung knows it was all you.

When you confessed nearly a year ago, Heeseung felt like his heart might’ve ceased to function properly. Truth be told, he’s never taken his daydreams about being your boyfriend too seriously. He always wondered if it was normal to develop small crushes on your girl-friends at a young age and wondered if those butterflies in his stomach was because of how often his other friends at school would playfully tease him until they stopped. Jake and Sunghoon had been people who teased him for having a girl as his best friend until they befriended you too, and Heeseung was satisfied when they stopped with their comments. They, too, could understand why Heeseung was so keen on keeping you around.

But the butterflies never quite left him. Your smile was too bright. Your voice was too angelic. Everything about you and how you fit into his life felt a little too perfect; Heeseung hated cliches in his youth and this felt like one big cliche joke. He knew his mother didn’t approve of the girls she’d see him with, even in college when he got into his first serious relationship. She wasn’t as enthusiastic about her as she was with you. At the time, the frustration seemed too biased until it ended in a way that made Heeseung realize his mother truly knew what was best for him.

Heeseung never considered the possibility of dating you until you confessed your feelings for him.

As much as he plays off being the spontaneous, go-with-the-flow type of person, Heeseung gets scared when things go unplanned. He backs away from courage and from moments that make or break his character. He likes to play it safe unless he can make a calculated risk in his favor, choosing to let others fall flat on their face and learn from their mistakes. Heeseung had never considered the possibility of you having feelings for him either. That fateful summer night is one he will always remember, especially in the way the light in your eyes dimmed when he told you he didn’t feel the same.

He remembers your quick apologies and the way you backed away too quickly for his liking. He had tried to reach for your hand to tell you it was okay and that he didn’t feel awkward about it, but you’d shook your head and merely told him you’d see him later. Heeseung had never seen you leave so abruptly. But he figured you’d get over it, as you typically do when things don’t go your way. You’re resilient like that.

Heeseung assumed you needed time to heal from the awkward encounter and hadn’t reached out to you for a week. He didn’t think much of it at the time and hadn’t made plans with you until he realized you’d be leaving for Europe the week following. By then, it had been too late, because he stopped by your house the morning after you left.

Getting together with Seulgi after you left felt too easy. He knew she’d always had a thing for him but brushed her off for reasons he couldn’t fathom until he bumped into her a few weeks after you’d left without so much as a text or a voicemail. Feeling a bit irritated at your wordless departure, Heeseung took Seulgi out on a few days to take his mind off of you.

Except, it didn’t work. Heeseung found himself fantasizing about what it would be like to go out to dinner with you when she was sitting in front of him. When she’d texted him to thank him for his time, Heeseung imagined the kind of things you would say after your first date. When he kissed her for the first time underneath the twinkling lights of a local fair, Heeseung pictured you as he closed his eyes. The fantasy was ruined when Seulgi’s perfume touched his olfactory senses, pulling him back into reality. The guilt of kissing somebody who wasn’t you ate at his chest the moment he saw Seulgi smile at him from where he stood.

He tried his best with her but broke it off when the unrest overtook his mental wellbeing. It was amicable, for the most part. All Heeseung knows is that his parents (along with all of his friends) were happy that he hadn’t continued with that relationship.

“Y/N used to talk a lot about you, Heeseung,” Leo says, bringing the aforementioned out of his thoughts. “We’d be out at dinner or something and she’d always run outside to answer your calls.”

“Really?” Heeseung says out of surprise. He didn’t know you did that.

“You bet,” Leo replies. “She talked a lot about Korea when we’d hang out with our friends but she seemed to talk about you the most.”

Heeseung wonders if you told him about what happened between the two of you the summer before you left.

“I’m flattered.” Heeseung honestly doesn’t know what else to say. He chooses to tell the truth. “I missed her a lot. I grew up with her living a few blocks away. It felt weird not to be with her when I went to college.”

“Y/N said the same thing. Every time she’d be homesick, she’d tell us she needed to call you.” Leo’s words bring a warm flush to Heeseung’s face but he chooses to blame it on the alcohol.

“I heard my name,” you say as you walk to where they’re sitting. “Not talking shit about me, my dear Leo?”

“Never,” he teases. “Although, I’m sure I still have some pretty photos of you and Elizabeth at this very pub.”

“Oh God, please don’t.” You push his shoulder when he moves to reach his phone. “Those do not need to see the light of day and you definitely need to delete them.”

“How else am I going to blackmail you?”

“You’re the worst.” You look cute when your nose is a bit red from drinking. You always did suffer from redness to the face when you drank. “I can’t believe Elizabeth and I let you into our friend group.”

“Hey! I was the one who introduced you to her in the first place.”

“I’ll bet if I texted her right now, I’d have it in writing that she’d choose me over you.”

“Okay, you don’t need to do that because she definitely would.”

The group laughs and conversations flow nicely as a few other friends from your university days join you later in the evening. It feels like a reunion, of sorts. It feels especially wonderful to have most of your favorite people under one roof despite the slight language barrier. But everyone seems to get along well enough, especially Riki, who has taken a liking to your Japanese friend you met on your first day of orientation.

When the room gets too hot, you make your way outside where you’re fenced in by a metal barricade. It’s cold outside, but the alcohol running through your veins keeps you warm enough that you decide not to go back to ask for a jacket. Heeseung wants to follow you but stays still in his seat when he sees Sunghoon exit the door after you leave.

The wine in your hands is still halfway full. You’ve decided that you’ve taken the lead far too many times this week and that Jay can handle getting everyone home. It’s your fourth drink of the night, just enough to keep you buzzed for the duration of your time at the pub.

You register the door sliding open and make room for Sunghoon when you spot him over your shoulder.

“Your friends are really nice,” he comments, leaning on the railing next to you.

“They’re the best,” you say with a fond smile. “I owe them a lot. I only started enjoying my time here when we became friends.”

“You know, I was a little worried that you wouldn’t be happy when you moved to London for the first time.”

“What makes you say that?”

“I think a lot of people would describe you as brave and as someone who will dive in head first to things that scare you, which is true for the most part. But I think people rarely pay attention to the vulnerable side of people like you because it looks like you have it all together.”

“I was a total wreck when I first moved,” you said. “I don’t know if you remember the few times I called you when Heeseung wasn’t able to pick up.”

“Oh, I remember. That was the first time you cried to me and now you have no issue getting your snot on my sweaters.” You swat his arm at the joke but he dodges you just in time. “I remember Yeji getting worried about you too. She was so young and always said she wanted to be brave like you.”

“Sweet girl,” you say.

“The two of you are similar. I watch out for her a lot, you know? Our relatives always think she puts on a brave face and don’t think twice when she talks about her fears. They always tell her she’ll be fine, but it’s hard to actualize that when you don’t believe it.”

“I thought about coming home a few times when things got really hard,” you confess. “I was out of my depth because I couldn’t speak English very well. I could only speak fragments and getting my way around campus was so hard.”

“I don’t know how you did it, if I’m being honest. But I’m glad that you stuck around long enough to see what your life would be like.”

“Me too. I’d really love to think I’ve become a better person now that I’ve gotten the chance to know myself beyond the comfort of my home, you know? I love you guys and I love my family, but sometimes being back in Korea felt like I was listening to what was expected of me instead of what I wanted.”

Sunghoon laughs. “Yeji said the same thing a few weeks before we left for London. Part of me thinks she’s considering studying abroad. I found a few college brochures in her room.”

“Don’t you know better than to snoop inside your sister’s bedroom?”

“Yah,” he says. “Yeji steals too many of my sweaters and she said I could get them back.”

“You’re just too easy to make fun of, Hoonie.”

A comfortable silence passes over the both of you. The audible sound of people talking amongst themselves and the beautiful lights of the city illuminate what makes London so beautiful. It isn’t until Sunghoon speaks that you pull yourself out of your daydreams.

“I heard you that night,” Sunghoon confesses.

“What are you talking about?”

“The night of the bonfire.I know you told Heeseung you liked him.”

You turn your head to him. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I figured you’d tell me whenever you felt ready,” he says with a shrug. “You went back to London a couple of weeks later and I wanted to spend time with my friend. There never seemed to be a right time.” He shoves his hands in his pockets and balances from one leg to another. “You looked really sad, Y/N. I’ve never seen you look that way before.”

There’s a beat of silence.

Sunghoon listens as you sigh and you push yourself from the railing. Your back touches the cold metal as you look beside yourself to see him.

“I deluded myself into thinking Heeseung might’ve felt something for me too,” you admit. “It’s not that girls and boys can’t be friends, but towards the end of our friendship, it was like something shifted.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’d…touch me longer. Hugs, pulling me by my waist at parties, lingering near me at Riki’s bonfires, that kind of thing. He started playing with my fingers a lot more. Heeseung never used to touch me like that. He’d interrupt conversation with guys to pull me away. I always knew what he was doing but I liked him so much that I didn’t care if he interrupted a good thing between me and someone else.”

Sunghoon purses his lips and watches as you look ahead at the glass doors to see your friends laughing. “I noticed that too.”

“When we were alone, it felt like he was one sentence away from telling me he loved me more than a friend. Not that platonic crap that the eight of us tell each other, but the deep shit where that kind of love comes from kindred souls.”

“Heeseung’s too stupid to see what’s good for him anyway.” Sunghoon pulls a laugh out of you and he’s glad to hear it.

“But then I confessed to him the night of that bonfire.” You bite your lip at the memory, willing yourself not to tear up. “I mean, you heard him. He told me he didn’t feel the same way and didn’t want to ruin our friendship because it was perfect as it was.”

“And then you heard he’d gotten together with Seulgi.”

“Yeah.” You nod once and look down at your drink.

“They weren’t together long,” Sunghoon says. “She wanted more but he didn’t want to give that to her. The boys were confused because he seemed to be really happy with her until he broke it off so sudden. I always thought it was because he felt too guilty after rejecting you.”

“What did the guys think?”

“Riki hated her. I have a feeling it was because she wasn’t you, though. I think Sunoo, Jungwon, and Jake were surprised when he’d gotten together with Seulgi after you left and were trying to be nice about it. Jay was indifferent, but then again, you two weren’t as close as you were with the rest of them until he visited you while you were away.”

“Did his opinion change?”

“Definitely. Heeseung had a period of time in the new year where he went on a couple of dates with her, telling us he might’ve made a mistake by breaking things off too soon.” Sunghoon shakes his head as he tells the story. “Jay was unbelievably pissed.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know how he gets when he’s angry. He’s quiet and doesn’t talk until he’s calm. But it was like a volcano erupted, or something. Jay came back mid January to find out Heeseung had been seeing Seulgi for a couple of weeks and completely lost it on him. He said things about not knowing a good thing if it spat in his face and how he ruined every chance of happiness because of his own doing.”

“Wow…I didn’t know Jay said that.”

“It was scary. Heeseung tried to fight back and say it was his life and that Jay didn’t have a right to say what he could and couldn’t do, but the poor guy never stood a chance. Jay asked him if he would be happy if you came back to see him dating Seulgi and that shut him up real quick.”

“What do I have to do with it?” you ask. “He rejected me before I left.”

“I don’t know,” Sunghoon says truthfully. “I always thought that Heeseung was trying to redeem himself through Seulgi. But I guess we’ll never truly know.”

“It’s been almost a year,” you reminisce. “You’d think I would’ve gotten over him by now after spending time in Europe with, well, other boys.”

“He’s not just any guy who rejected you,” Sunghoon says. He looks out at the street, finding the words to say. “You two had been best friends since before me or the guys got to know either of you. There’s a special kind of bond between people who grew up together, you know?

“I think a large part of you misses being friends with him. Sure, rejection always stings, but it’s knowing that you don’t have your best friend that hurts you more.”

“Jeez,” you chide. “You always know how I feel.”

Sunghoon laughs. “I’m just observant. I know that it’s hard to be on this trip because Heeseung’s trying to be that friend you once knew. He probably feels guilty for giving you the cold shoulder during your first few weeks back in Seoul.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, well he’s not doing a great job showing it. Life would be easier if he left me alone.”

“But do you want that?”

You cast your eyes to the floor. “No, I don’t.”

Satisfied with your answer, Sunghoon nods.

“You know, I knew Heeseung had feelings for you the night we played spin the bottle just before we graduated high school.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Hoon. He never liked me.”

Sunghoon shakes his head. “Do you remember what happened that night?”

“Vaguely. I remember that being my first time trying alcohol and Jake having to cut me off when I couldn’t walk straight.”

He nods. “When you were sober enough to string a few sentences together, some girl suggested playing spin the bottle. When it was your turn to spin, it landed on me.”

You make a face. “Ah. I do remember kissing you.”

“Well you don’t have to look grossed out,” Sunghoon teases. “Everyone knew it was awkward because we’d been friends for like, five years at that point. We were both so flustered that the kiss lasted for maybe two seconds before everyone cheered.

“Heeseung was pissed. I saw him looking at me like I’d killed his family, or something. I swore I could see steam coming out of his ears. He wouldn’t talk to me for a week because I’d been your first kiss.”

“Seriously?”

“Dead serious.” Sunghoon laughs at the memory. “He wouldn’t answer my texts. In the group chat we were in, he’d acknowledge everyone but me. It wasn’t until a week later when we were all hanging out that I told him there was nothing between us and it was awkward to kiss you in front of our friends.”

You stand there, dumbfounded. “Huh.”

“I’ve never told anyone that,” he confesses. “I doubt anyone remembers us kissing except for him. I assumed this would be a story I’d tell you and the guys when you both eventually got together.”

He murmurs an apology. “It’s okay, Hoon. I’m glad you told me. I guess I’m just…confused. Why did he reject me if he allegedly liked me?”

“I wish I knew. He was miserable when you left and refused to talk about you moving back to Europe for your final year abroad. Heeseung was really sad when he found out you weren’t coming home for Christmas break.”

“I couldn’t bear to see him. I was so heartbroken and the friends here tonight were consoling me in the way they knew how. I knew I’d be a depressed wreck if I came back home.”

“That makes sense,” Sunghoon affirms for you. “I’m glad you met up with Jay while he was here, though. You got some kind of Christmas gift from home.”

“Me too. I feel like Jay and I got closer because of it. I knew he could tell something was off but he didn’t say anything about it. Something tells me he knows more than he cares to say.”

“You know Jay.” You both nod. “More observant and caring than the rest of us. Part of me thinks Heeseung’s jealous of your new friendship with him since the two of you basically planned this whole trip on your own.”

“Well, Jay has more international travel experience and his dad knows the right people,” you say with a shrug. “I spent four years of my life here. It makes sense.”

“To us, yes. To Heeseung? I think his feelings cloud his judgment.”

“He never used to confuse me,” you admit. “We used to talk about how much we hated when people made us guess how they felt or what they were thinking. We always said it was unfair if you make people you love, make you guess their intentions. But he’s doing that to me and it’s been driving me insane.

“Sometimes I wonder if I should’ve kept my mouth shut. I watched him date girls in high school. I watched him with what I thought would be his first serious girlfriend during our first year of college before he went through that short hookup phase. God, that hurt me so bad and I couldn’t say anything because it wasn’t my life.”

“For what it’s worth, I think it was brave of you to confess to him,” Sunghoon tells you. “I don’t say that as a cheap cop out to make you feel better either. You know me, I’m really sentimental about things even if I don’t come off that way. To confess your feelings to someone who you love…one can only hope to hear that someday.”

You nudge your shoulder with his. “You say that like you didn’t have girls begging for a date.”

Sunghoon laughs and you know what he means.

“You’ve always been the bravest of all of us,” he continues. “I think the reason why I wanted to be friends with you when we were kids is because you didn’t take bullshit from people. I was too shy to stand up for myself between my career as a figure skater while trying to be a normal kid. You and Heeseung offered that kind of normalcy. I could see you two in the bleachers at my competitions and then we’d go out for ice cream like it was any other day.”

“Well, now you’re going to make me cry.”

“I mean it, Y/N. You’re a great friend and a great person. I hope Heeseung hasn’t fucked things up too bad that you leave his life for good.”

You shiver. “Me too.”

“Talk to him,” Sunghoon advises. “Do it before we leave. You’re removed from your life back home.” You open your mouth to refute but he beats you to the chase. “If it doesn’t work out, then you’ll know your answer when you go home and you can resume your life without Heeseung in it.”

Sunghoon leaves you alone with your thoughts but makes you promise that you’ll join the group soon.

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

When you walk back into the pub, Jake clouds your personal space before you can even think about ordering another drink.

“Jesus, Hoon. Couldn’t you have offered Y/N your jacket if you guys were gonna be out that long? Poor girl looks like she’s about to freeze to death.

Jake’s affinity for the dramatic never ceases. Your friends look at your goosebumps and the way you’re acclimating to the warmer temperature inside while Sunghoon merely rolls his eyes.

“I’m fine,” you say. “We only came in because I started to get cold.”

“Let me get my jacket for you,” Heeseung says as he rises from his seat.

“No.” You’re sure you say it too abruptly, but you can’t bear the thought of wearing his clothes after the conversation you just had. “I’m fine, honestly.”

“Stop being stubborn and wear a damn jacket,” Leo chides, wrapping his coat around your shoulders. “You have this habit of never bringing one when you need it and it drives me crazy.”

“But that’s what I have you for, don’t I?”

As you tug the material closer to your body, Sunghoon watches as Heeseung stares at Leo with a hard expression.

“Not when you’re back in Seoul, you goof.” Leo takes your empty glass. “I’m glad you have these guys back at home. They seem really good for you.”

“I love them a lot.” You say it so tenderly with your head tilted as you look at the boys you’d call family, only for them to coo at your clearly vulnerable, inebriated state.

“My mother, my older sister, and best friend,” Riki says with a hiccup as he engulfs you in a hug. “Seriously, I would be dead in a ditch without you.”

“I don’t know a better person,” Sunoo chimes in from where he’s seated.

“There was one time where Y/N had this lemon phase where she couldn’t stop drinking lemonade or eating lemon candy,” Jake tells the group. “Now I think of her every time I see something yellow.”

“That’s kind of fitting though, isn’t it?” Leo asks. “Yellow for sunshine.”

Everybody agrees and it makes your cheeks and neck warm up. You hide yourself in Leo’s jacket, but God, Heeseung wishes he could hide you in his arms instead.

Still, he can’t help but agree with Leo. If there’s any truth to his words, it’s that you are made of pure, unfiltered sunshine.

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

The next morning, all eight of you board the train for a two-hour ride to Paris. For the next five days, you’ll be acting as a tourist rather than tour guide, for the most part. Jay volunteers to take the lead since you did most of the heavy lifting in London. You do, however, chime in to give him a few recommendations from your prior visits to the city.

Sunghoon’s advice plagues your thoughts, so much so that Jungwon has had to guide you out of the hotel and into the cab before arriving at the train station. Both he and Sunoo look a bit worried about you, but you wave them off and tell them you had one too many to drink. You know they don’t believe you but you’re grateful they don’t press on.

Paris is much more beautiful than you remember it, and it’s likely due to the fact that you’re here on vacation, not because you wanted a weekend getaway to escape the stress of midterms and exams. The people are just as indifferent as ever. You’re able to practice some of your basic French to order coffee and pastries for everyone. It’s a feat that leaves Heeseung impressed and you try not to acknowledge him when you see his jaw drop.

The hotel itself is more beautiful than the last. You have the room with the balcony and double doors leading to a breathtaking view of the buildings and streets below. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever seen, even if the streets are littered with trash and the people are a bit too loud. It still feels charming.

The rooming situation is the same as London, with you in the single room and the rest of the boys to fend for themselves. This time, Jungwon, Jay, and Sunghoon are sharing the three bedroom with Heeseung and Jake sharing another, and Sunoo and Riki in the other double. The hotel must’ve miscalculated the rooming situation and put your single room at the end of the hallway away from the others, but you aren’t complaining.

The first few days are filled with happiness and dread, namely when you see Heeseung as you begin your day. He has a knack for making you laugh until you come to the notion that you really shouldn’t be finding his jokes very funny because he doesn’t deserve that kind of reaction from you.

In fact, he doesn’t deserve your attention after ignoring you for as long as he has. Seeing Leo again brought up memories of crying in his flat with Elizabeth and drinking too much wine to forget the pain temporarily. Your friends invited you to a night spent in the pub after Leo begged his brother to close it for the night so that you could have a free space to drink and talk about Heeseung until your voice gave out.

Your irritation carries over and Heeseung can tell when you move away from him when he tries to stand next to you. He’s hurt but he tries to understand that you have a right to be, even if he knows in his heart the reasons why he acted the way he did. He just needs to find time to talk to you, even if the conversation doesn’t end the way he hopes it will.

With two days left on the trip, you’ve eaten your way through the streets of Paris and have done your fair share of shopping. Each of the boys had bought you a small token of their appreciation (Heeseung paid for your latte, Jay purchased a small wallet from Prada, Jake gifted you new sunglasses, Sunghoon a charm for your bracelet, Sunoo a bowl of pasta for lunch, Jungwon a pair of earrings, and Riki a new jacket that looks similar to his from back home). It warms your heart to know you have people who care about you enough to show and tell you.

The Eiffel Tower calls your name one late afternoon and by the time you all manage to walk up, the sun is setting below the horizon. There are couples around Heeseung who are taking photos left and right, one of which asks him to take a few pictures for them. He can’t help but wish he was in their place, asking a stranger to take a photo of the two of you as he kisses the apple of your cheek. Heeseung snaps a few good ones before the couple thanks him.

It doesn’t help that you look like a walking goddess. Truth be told, Heeseung wanted to buy you more than just coffee when the boys agreed to each give you something as a token of their gratitude. Heeseung had come up with a list of ideas he wanted advice for, but it was Sunghoon who’d told him to keep it simple for your sake. He was right, as always, because you thanked him with a pleasant smile instead of ignoring him like you had in the days prior. Heeseung gets the feeling that you wouldn’t appreciate a grand gesture from him right now.

He hates that he can’t read you like he used to. He hates that the other friends know you better than he does, and he hates that he’s in the City of Love and he can’t call you his girlfriend.

Riki and Jungwon are more perceptive than they let on. Heeseung sees the way their eyes dart between the two of you and how they’ve been trying their best to navigate the new dynamic. Riki, especially, hadn’t been receptive of Seulgi the first time Heeseung invited her to a bonfire. Heeseung had overheard the younger boy telling Jungwon it wasn’t the same without you there and that he’d rather go home than spend another minute getting to know someone who wasn’t you.

At the time, Heeseung was beyond irritated and refused to speak to Riki for the rest of the night. Now, however, he understands why Riki acted the way he did.

You look so beautiful underneath a Parisian sunset. Heeseung knows he’s staring. He’s grateful that you’re too preoccupied with Sunghoon taking photos of you. But God, he wishes you’d laugh at him like that.

“You should talk to her,” Jake says from beside him. Heeseung jumps at his sudden appearance. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I want to.” Heeseung says it out loud for the first time. He wants to work it out with you and get his best friend back in whatever way you’ll allow. “I miss her, Jake. I miss being her friend and I fucked up when I rejected her.”

Heeseung doesn’t notice Jake’s eyes widen at the sudden admission. Jake had his fair share of theories and considered Heeseung to be his best friend, but even he knew there was a limit about what he was willing to share and what he kept to himself. Heeseung’s friendship with you was something he stopped trying to learn a few years after he got to know you; Heeseung had a soft spot for you and had no problem letting people know that. It wasn’t until you mentioned to Jake that you hadn’t spoken to Heeseung in months that he knew something was up.

“She clearly cares about you,” Jake says. “She wouldn’t be on this trip if she didn’t.”

“But she’s been ignoring me the past three days. And before you say it, yes, I know that she has a valid reason to, but I’m hurt and I want to make things better.”

“You have to let her take the reins and let her talk to you when she wants to,” Jake advises. “You know how she is. Y/N’s headstrong and she might not know how she feels right now, but she always knows what’s best for her. You’re good for her, Heeseung. Let her come to that conclusion on her own.”

Heeseung relinquishes his breath. “You’re right. I just…miss her. A lot. Things will never go back to the way they used to but I don’t think I want them to. I used to pray every night that I could somehow make everything like it was before that night but now I want more than that. She deserves better and I want to be better for her, not that coward who was too scared to try something new with the person he loves.”

His friend’s words bring a smile to Jake’s lips. “Well I, for one, believe in you. I think the rest of the guys do too.”

“I know,” Heeseung says softly with his eyes on you.

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

You can’t believe you leave Europe in two days as you sip your wine. Jay’s father was gracious enough to reach out to his friend at the hotel’s restaurant to negotiate having this meal compensated. It’s a gesture you hold onto and make a mental note to write a thoughtful note when you settle back in Korea. Jay sits next to you and partakes in the wine activities with you, namely picking out two different bottles to share with the table. Talking to Jay like this makes you feel otherworldly, like you’ve gotten more experience out of life since you chose to study abroad. You feel lucky, in a sense, that your life has given you more than you expected it too.

The younger boys head upstairs after dessert and bid you all a goodnight in case they don’t see you before falling asleep. For the next thirty minutes or so, it’s the five of you laughing away at the hotel bar like old times, reminiscing about embarrassing moments from high school or how difficult it was to hear Jake’s Korean when he first moved.

The Australian leaves as soon as he yawns. Sunghoon, a little too tipsy upon standing from the bar table, presses a gentle kiss to your head when he says goodnight to the rest of you. Jay gives your arm a reassuring squeeze and you understand for the first time that he always knew you better than he let on. He says goodnight and tells the bartender to charge his room whenever you two close the tab.

Now, you and Heeseung are sitting together, mere inches apart as the Parisian sky twinkles with stars above the two of you.

Neither of you know what to say. You fidget with the glass and contemplate on whether you should head up as well. Heeseung can sense your awkwardness and wish he hadn’t messed things up so badly that you can’t stand to be alone with him without thinking of an escape plan. He misses when the two of you could sit in complete silence and still feel comfortable around one another.

“Thank you for showing us around,” he speaks up before you can make the decision to leave. “I remember you talking about all of the places you showed us when you first moved here. I’ve always wanted to visit.”

“Really?”

Heeseung nods. “I used to be so jealous that you got the opportunity to travel abroad every time you talked about it. But I think I like it better this way, with you as the tour guide.”

That brings a laugh out of you and Heeseung can’t help but smile. He doesn’t care if it’s the alcohol allowing your walls to come down. He’s grateful for the chance.

“I used to write down places I wanted to show you,” you confess. “There were so many places that reminded me of where we’d used to hang out as kids. It always felt like there was a part of you with me.”

His heart melts. “I wish I could’ve visited you while you were here. Your friends seem pretty cool.”

“They are.” Heeseung watches you smile. “They’ve been with me through a lot and helped me get over this fear of failing in a different country. My friend Suki, who now lives in Tokyo, was the first person to really get me out of my shell and convinced me to go out. Awkward Y/N? Going to clubs?”

“You know how to dance, though. I bet you killed it.”

“A little too much, perhaps. I didn’t date or hook up much, but there were a few times that I did.” Heeseung’s heart begins to sink as does his hope. This is not where he wanted to lead the conversation but his ears perk up at your next point. “But I wasn’t happy doing that so I stopped making out with random guys on the dance floor.”

“If only thirteen-year-old you could see you then,” he teases. You bump his shoulders with yours and he feels electricity running down his arm.

“I think I did a good job adjusting and learning. There were times where I felt like I didn’t know what I was doing with my life because I couldn’t decide if I wanted to stay in London or go back to Seoul. That burden felt too much.”

“For what it’s worth, I’m glad you came back home.”

Your head whips to look at Heeseung, who can only sit and watch as your eyes begin to water.

“Why didn’t you say anything when I texted and called you?” you ask meekly, your voice barely above a whisper. “Why didn’t you see me when I came back?”

“I know.” He gulps. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m so, so sorry.”

You sniffle and Heeseung wants to cry too. “Everyone came to pick me up at the airport. I kept looking for you but you weren’t there. Jake had to pull me away from baggage claim because he said you weren’t coming but I didn’t listen. I told him he was wrong. You always come.”

Heeseung’s soul breaks with every crack in your voice and with the way your lips quiver. He sees your mascara beginning to smudge and resists the urge to wipe it away so that your eyes may look fresh and dry.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats. “I have no excuse.”

“I wanted my best friend but you never showed up for me. You didn’t call or text me when you knew I was home and I had to wait until Riki’s bonfire to see you.”

“I was an idiot and stupid,” is the only answer Heeseung can come up with. “I used to be so scared of change. You left the country and I had to start thinking about what I wanted to do with my life but it was so hard without you in it.”

“Then why did you leave me?”

His heart shatters.

You’ve turned away from him in an attempt to walk back to your hotel room. However, Heeseung has learned his lesson. He doesn’t let you stray too far and gently tugs your wrist to pull you into his chest and is surprised when you don’t fight him off of you.

He doesn't care that your tears have stained his shirt or that you’re hiccupping into his clothes. All Heeseung wants to do is let you know he’s here for you now, despite his past mistakes and clouded judgment. Heeseung loves you for your bravery and vulnerability. He can only hope you understand that.

“Let’s go to your room, yeah? I can help you take your makeup off.”

Whether from the alcohol or your need to be near Heeseung, you let him guide you to the elevator. He digs in your purse for your room key and coaxes you to sit in the bathroom while he locks the door. This routine feels a bit familiar; in his youth, he learned how you like to take your makeup off and get ready for bed after a particularly rough night drinking. He could never understand why he hadn’t minded taking the extra step and to keep himself sober when you were in the vicinity, but he understands it now.

Heeseung meets you in the bathroom and washes his hands before putting your hair in a ponytail. He bites his lips when he sees your fresh tears and mutters another apology, forcing himself not to wipe away the tears with his fingers. Instead, he lets you blot them with a tissue before gathering makeup remover in his hands and gently smears it all over your skin.

“I didn’t like change,” he says after a quiet beat. “I was too cowardly to take what I wanted, even if the person I wanted said they wanted me too. I don’t know why I didn’t chase after you that night or why I thought you needed space before you left. I don’t have an explanation for any of it except to say that I was a coward who never wanted anything to change between us.”

Heeseung warms a wet cloth and wipes the balm away until he’s satisfied and moves on with your favorite cleanser, rubbing it between his hands until it foams.

“I think, deep down, I’ve always loved you more than I led on. I can’t think of any moment in my life where you weren’t there or times that I didn’t want you around. Even when we were in elementary school and everyone kept saying we would get cooties from each other, I wanted you with me.”

He lets you wash your face and applies the rest of your products on as you once taught him.

“I’ve always had this sense of pride when it came to being your friend. Everyone always talked about how cool you were because you always knew what to say and when to say it. I love that about you, you know. You have a way of making people feel like they’re really special. I don’t know why I was so afraid of that.

“I love who you are and what you believe in. You make the world a better place for everyone around you. How you treated me was a small fraction of why I love you. I love your passions and that you aren’t afraid to chase after them. I love that you stick with the same boba order even though you tell yourself you’ll try something new. I love that you hate the beach but go with us every time we ask. I love when you get a little drunk because you don’t fight me when I want to take care of you.”

Heeseung swallows. “But mostly, I just really love you.”

You open your eyes for the first time. Heeseung can only stare.

“You really hurt me.”

He glances down. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“What hurt the most was knowing you weren’t going to be there as my best friend, Heeseung. I could handle your rejection. I could find a way to get over you. But I could never get over losing our friendship. I never wanted you out of my life because it’s better with you in it.”

“Please don’t get over me,” Heeseung croaks. His own eyes begin to swell and he forces a choked sob down his throat, aggressively wiping his eyes to rid himself of tears. He presses his forehead against yours. “I don’t want you to get over me.”

You don’t say anything for a few moments. Heeseung swears he feels the blood rushing to his ears as he anticipates your response and he’s sure that even if what you say isn’t what he wants to hear, he’s happy to wear his feelings on his sleeve for once in his life.

“I don’t think I could even if I tried.”

Heeseung’s heart stops beating. He doesn’t kiss you even though he wants to. He doesn’t take your hand and pull you into him like his heart tells him to. Instead, he whispers a quiet thanks and is surprised when he hears you laugh.

“I can’t apologize enough. I don’t want to make you feel like you have to do or say anything.”

“I know,” you whisper. Heeseung's hands are dangling awkwardly by his side. He feels like pushing his forehead against yours was too much. But your hands reach for him and you give him a squeeze.

Heeseung throws caution out of the window and envelopes you in a hug. He feels your body melt against his and can’t help but look at the way you’ve folded into his chest in the bathroom mirror, with your head in his neck and his cheek on the crown of your head. Heeseung missed holding you like this–with your bodies intertwined as if you were two soulmates who were forced apart upon creation.

He stroked your back with his hand and kept the other secured around your waist. Your soft breaths touch his skin and it feels like he’s got electricity running through his veins.

“I’m sorry,” Heeseung whispers again. “I will keep apologizing until you know the depth of my regret.”

The boy feels like he’s floating when you press a soft kiss to his exposed chest, mentally thanking Jake for forcing him to let loose and unbutton a few.

“You could start by staying with me until I fall asleep,” you say. “Like old times.”

He tries not to punch the air. “I can do that.”

Heeseung waits in the bathroom until you’ve changed into comfortable clothing. He isn’t surprised when he sees you in shorts and an oversized shirt. It’s reminiscent of what you used to wear when you’d sleep in the guest bedroom in his house or vice versa, but now that he’s acknowledged his feelings for you, he can’t help but coo at how cute and sleepy you look.

You tuck yourself in bed with the blankets to your chin and he completely melts to the floor. You pat the spot next to him and he sits on top of the blankets.

“Under the covers, silly.”

“I don’t want to rush it,” Heeseung says in a panic.

“We aren’t rushing. We’re two best friends who got each other back.”

Heeseung has never been more relieved. Though, he knows you’re a stickler for outside clothes in bed, so he makes the decision to take your key card and change.

“I’m not leaving you,” he says when he notices you rise from your spot on the bed. He holds two key cards to prove it and leans over to press a soft kiss to your cheek. “I’m going to change and then I’ll be right back. I promise.”

He comes back ten minutes later. It warms your heart at the sight of him and you feel the comfort in your body when he slides underneath the covers.

You surprise yourself when you move to lay your head on his chest with your arm around his body. Heeseung doesn’t seem to mind, though, and he pulls you closer to him like you’ve done it a million times before. The two of you have wanted this for too long to make it feel awkward.

“What did Jake say when you came into the room?” you ask.

“He was half asleep until I turned the light on but he asked me if we resolved things. I told him yes and then he asked if I was staying the night with you when he saw me leaving.”

“Am I right to assume he was more excited about having the room to himself?”

Heeseung laughs. “That you are.”

“Deep down, I think Jake knew we’d find our way. I think they all did.”

“I’m sorry,” Heeseung whispers once more. You quiet him with a kiss to his cheek.

“I know, Hee. We can talk more tomorrow. For now, let’s sleep.”

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

The next morning, Heeseung wakes up before you do and frowns when your body’s all the way on the other side of the bed. He leans over your sleeping frame and brushes strands of hair from your face, admiring how serene you look in your sleep. For a moment, Heeseung ponders if it’s too soon to wake you up the way he’d like to, but if last night was any indication about how you felt, he’d be willing to take the chance.

He leans down to kiss your forehead and both of your cheeks repeatedly until your eyes flutter open. Heeseung thinks he could listen to your laugh every morning with the way you wince at the sunlight and how his lips touch your skin. Still, your gaze finds its way to Heeseung’s and you can’t help but smile.

There was a brief moment before you fell asleep that you’d wondered if you’d been too quick to forgive him. But for as hurtful as the past year was, you can’t help but acknowledge the steps he took during the trip in an attempt to undo all of the contempt you had built for him. You owe it to yourself to be happy with Heeseung.

“Good morning, pretty girl,” Heeseung says with his morning voice that sounds a little too good for seven in the A.M. “Did you sleep well?”

“Slept like a baby. I feel like one too.”

“That’s because you are a baby,” Heeseung teases, kissing your cheeks and then the tip of your nose. “My baby.”

“I really want breakfast but I’m too lazy to get up from the bed.”

“We could always order in. I’ll pay.”

You shake your head. “I’ll be too tempted to stay in bed and it’s our last full day in Paris. Let’s just get ready and have breakfast at the hotel restaurant?”

The both of you are halfway done eating breakfast when the rest of your friends trickle in, joining your table and the ones next to you. It takes them a while to wake up, but it’s Sunghoon who speaks up first.

“I’m assuming you two talked?”

“And made up,” you say with a tilt of your head.

“That’s my girl,” Sunghoon says proudly, sipping on his coffee.

“I’ll let that slide since we’re all friends,” Heeseung jokes. You laugh and, for the first time in a while, you don’t feel guilty about it.

“I had the whole room to myself, too. I woke up and didn’t have to fight anyone for the bathroom,” says Jake.

Riki nearly spits his juice out. “You guys slept together?”

“Not like that!” you’re quick to exclaim. “He just slept over. Slept. As in, we closed our eyes and actually slept.”

“Both of us knew we needed our beauty sleep before dealing with the six of you asking us questions,” Heeseung adds. “But for your information, we made up. We still have things to figure out, but we’re back to being friends.”

“Hopefully more than that,” Jungwon coughs behind his coffee. He merely smiles when Heeseung looks in his direction.

“I think you two should spend the rest of the day by yourselves,” Jay suggests. “We can either meet up for dinner or whenever we have to check out.”

“I second that,” Sunoo agrees. “You two clearly need to talk.”

“I wanted to go shopping with Y/N again,” Riki says with a frown. Jake presumably knocks his shin with Riki’s, who clears his throat. “But you two should totally hang out without us.”

“I think we might,” Heeseung says, holding his hand out for you to take. He stands from his seat and encourages you to stand as well, leading you away from the table. “Thanks for the breakfast, Jay!”

“I’m choosing to be the bigger person because Y/N’s been through enough,” Jay mutters when Heeseung is out of hearshot, making the table laugh.

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

“You know, I think the reason why I had such a hard time reaching out was because we’d never gotten into something that serious before,” Heeseung admits. The gelato in your hand isn’t as good as you remember it, but it does the job to cool you down on a particularly warm afternoon.

“What do you mean?”

“Do you remember when we were kids and how hard it was for me to talk to you about anything that was action movies or superheroes?”

“God, you and your Superman cape from fourth grade,” you snort. “You wore that thing to school everyday. Your dad had to wash it every night otherwise you’d refuse to go to sleep.” Heeseung shuts his eyes at the memory.

“You were the only person I felt comfortable pouring my heart out to, you know. You were always the first person I called when I needed someone to talk to, but then I was the reason why you got hurt…I think part of me didn’t know if I was allowed to reach out to you.

“It’s a stupid excuse, I know. But when I heard you were coming back to Seoul a few weeks before you did, I couldn’t help but think about how many times I could’ve texted you.”

“Yeah, you could’ve.” Heeseung merely nods at your agreement. “We’ve been through a lot over the years, but I guess there’s a first time for everything.”

“I just wish I had come to this conclusion when it happened. I was so caught up in graduating and focusing on how I felt that I didn’t consider how you must’ve been dealing with all of it. I don’t think I’ve ever been so selfish in my life.”

“I think the time you refused to let me be friends with Jake because you said you needed friends aside from me was your second most selfish moment.”

Heeseung rolls his eyes. “Quit it. I was thirteen, okay?”

Neither of you particularly care to do any sightseeing today. It feels nice to walk side-by-side without the company of your other friends. The juxtaposition of how you felt towards the beginning of this trip compared to how relaxed you feel surprises you a tenfold, but you suppose that comes with genuine apologies and forgiveness.

You’re willing to admit Heeseung looks criminally good in black jeans and a striped button down. He wears his clothes so effortlessly yet still looks like he could’ve taken his wardrobe from a magazine. You’ve always found it a bit unfair that Heeseung always manages to look so cool without trying too hard.

“You’re staring,” he mutters, looking at you from the corner of his eye as the two of you walk down a cobblestone street.

“I’m not,” you lie. You turn your head to avoid his gaze, but Heeseung thinks he likes seeing you this shy. It’s new territory for him, one that he wants to explore.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Go for it.”

“Why did you forgive me so quickly?” Heeseung asks. “I appreciate it, I really do, but a big part of me feels like I don’t deserve that just yet.”

It takes you a while to answer. Why did you forgive him as fast as you did? For a week and a half, being in close quarters with Heeseung made you feel nothing but anxious and on edge, so why were you able to allow yourself to be vulnerable in front of him?

“I’ve always held onto the idea that you’re a good person,” you begin. “I’ve always admired that you intend to care for the people you love and make them feel like they have a place in your life. You’ve always made me feel safe, like I could run to you when things got too hard.

“What you did was in poor taste, sure, but making bad decisions doesn’t mean you’re a bad person. I know you, Hee. I know how you get when you’re faced with a difficult choice and how long it takes for you to come around. I was justifiably hurt but I think a part of me always knew you’d fix it somehow.”

“I wish I could feel deserving of that kind of forgiveness.”

“You know me. You know I wouldn’t tell you that if I didn’t feel like what I’m saying is true. I’ll admit that I shocked myself with how quickly I let my guard down with you…but you’re Heeseung. You've been my best friend since the first grade and you’re the boy I happen to have a really big crush on.”

Heeseung bites his lips at your confession, willing himself not to be too forward as to kiss you in the middle of the street. He sees your bravery and the way you’ve put your heart directly in the palm of his hand, acting out of vulnerability even though the both of you knew he hurt you once before.

He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to. Instead, Heeseung grabs your hands and locks his fingers with yours, squeezing three times to tell you he loves you.

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

The afternoon comes and goes with little to no plan. Heeseung’s a bit worried that he hasn’t heard anything from the boys and he’s rendered shocked that you’ve taken it upon yourself to let the day take you where it may instead of finding the next spot to visit.

As if on cue, Jay texts him with plans for the evening.

jjongcaprio: 20:00, Pétrelle. It’s a five minute walk from the hotel

jjongcaprio: I made reservations for you and Y/N tonight. Don’t worry about me and the boys, just take her out on a romantic date

jjongcaprio: The bill’s covered. The reservation’s under your name btw

heeseung: bro i cannot ask you to do this

jjongcaprio: You don’t have to. You and I both know Y/N deserves to be wined and dined

jjongcaprio: Plus I saw you looking at a few restaurants when we were on the train. I managed to pull some strings for you and got a last minute reservation for tonight

heeseung: thank you jay…i really don’t know what i’d do without you

jjongcaprio: It’s really not a problem, bro. Promise me that you’ll try to be happy with her. The guys and I are rooting for you two

“So,” Heeseung clears his throat as he looks up from his phone, “I think you and I should go out for dinner.”

“Where are you thinking of going? I can text the others and see if they’re done sightseeing, or whatever it is they’re doing.”

“I mean just us two.” He stands awkwardly when you’ve turned your attention to him, his feet planted on the sidewalk beneath him as if that’ll help steady his beating heart.

“Like a date?”

“Yes,” he says immediately. “Like I date. I, Heeseung, am asking you out on a date. Tonight. At eight.”

“I, Y/N, would love to go on a date with you. At eight.”

The twinkle in your eye and your coy nature makes him feel like a teenager again. He leads you into the hotel and walks you to your door before stepping back as you step inside.

“We’ve got an hour and a half before we need to leave. I’ll come by and then we can walk together. The restaurant is only a five minute walk, so you can wear those new heels I know you feel guilty buying.”

“They’re really pretty though,” you rationalize.

Heeseung nods. “Gorgeous, actually. Maybe you’ll be as tall as me if you wear them.”

“We’ll just have to see, won’t we?”

Heeseung bites his bottom lip as you disappear behind the door, locking eyes with you until you’re completely out of sight. Flirting with you like this is a completely new phenomenon for him. He’s only daydreamed about what you might say if he said something a little too suggestive or how you might act if he dedicated a wink in your direction. Heeseung had never considered that he’d be the one flustered, cheeks reddening to the point where he starts to feel shy.

His nerves are endless as he picks out an outfit for tonight. Heeseung sends a quick text to his parents, who had pressured him into bringing nice clothes for a fancy dinner, and spends a few minutes updating them on the events of the past few days. His mother is pleased, to put it lightly, and sends a handful of emoticons to display her happiness. His father tells him words of encouragement before making Heeseung promise to bring you for dinner as his girlfriend, not just his best friend.

With the last touch of his cologne, Heeseung looks at himself in the mirror and tries not to think too hard about how he looks. You’re Y/N, his best friend since he can remember, and you’ve seen him with snot dripping from his nose.

“I look fine,” he says to himself in the mirror. “Y/N will like the look because your mom picked it out and we know those two agree on everything. Absolutely nothing to worry about.”

Heeseung’s only regret is he doesn’t have a bouquet of flowers to present you with as he makes his way to your hotel room. He wipes his palms on his trousers and takes a deep breath before knocking on your door.

When it opens, he’s met with the sight of you in a short black dress that hugs your hips to accentuate your body. The dress itself is an elegant, spaghetti strap number with a flattering neckline paired with jewelry that makes your skin appear to be glowing. Your heels match well with the dress you’ve chosen, so much so that Heeseung’s jaw drops when his eyes rake over your body.

“Wow,” he mutters. “Just…wow.”

“I’m not used to you being speechless,” you say mildly, closing the door behind you.

“You look gorgeous,” he sputters. “I shouldn’t be seen with you tonight.”

“You’re dramatic, Hee.” You give him a once over and Heeseung thinks he wouldn’t mind you checking him out as you please. “You look handsome as ever.”

He beams at the compliment and holds his arm out for you.

“Shall we?”

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

Heeseung knows the type of person you are and what you value, yet he still renders himself shocked when you allow him to take control of the evening. He knows you don’t need to have the expensive consequences that come with a first date or to be sipping the most luxurious wine to be happy, but Heeseung can’t help but feel like you deserve to feel as elegant as you look every once in a while.

The host leads the two of you to a table with the most gorgeous view of the Parisian scenery. The twinkling stars paired with the dimly lit restaurant adds a romantic touch to the evening. Heeseung mentally thanks Jay for preparing wine recommendations so neither of you have to think too much about it.

For a moment, he’s worried that he’s reached too far out of his depth. The fanciest thing Heeseung has ever done with you is eat ramen after prom in your best outfits because you both came to the conclusion that prom should be spent with someone you actually like. It’s funny in hindsight when he thinks about it now.

You look so beautiful like this, allowing yourself to be taken care of by him. Talking to you over the table feels like you’re back in Korea before all that transpired. The food is impeccable and Heeseung thanks his lucky stars that he and Jay got it right. You sing praises left and right.

Dinner ends much quicker than he’d like as the two of you finish dessert. The waiter tells him the bill has been taken care of and Heeseung sits in his seat awkwardly as you look out the window to see the view from outside. But he hears the live band in the background and sees a few older couples slow dancing from where he sits and makes up his mind.

“Do you want to dance?”

You pull your attention to him. For a moment, he thinks he’s asked the most absurd question known to man when he recalls all the times you refused to make a home on the dance floor until you’ve gotten at least four drinks in your system.

You surprise him.

“I’d love to, Hee.”

The room disappears when he leads you to the dance floor. He mimics the other dancers and takes the lead, swaying your bodies back and forth to the melody of the music. You smell of vanilla and cinnamon, a scent so distinctly you that it makes him grin like a man in love.

“Thank you for tonight,” you say against his neck. “I won’t lie when I say I feel like a princess.”

“That’s because you are a princess,” Heeseung says, kissing the top of your head. “You deserve to be treated like one.”

“I can’t believe you pulled this off so quickly. Don’t restaurants like these require reservations?”

He chuckles nervously. “About that…Jay helped me with the details. I was looking up restaurants to take you to if I got the chance before our trip ended. I guess he saw the list and chose the most romantic one out of the bunch.”

“I owe Jay a thank you.”

“We both do.”

“I feel lucky to have people in my life who care about me this much,” you say. “I’m so happy you’re back in my life.”

“I’m happy to be in it.” Heeseung squeezes your waist. “Deep down, it’s always been you that I’ve loved. There’s not a single person who makes me feel the way you do.”

“Yeah?”

You feel him nod. “I’ll say it until you believe me. I’ll even yell it in this restaurant right now.”

“Please don’t,” you laugh. “I believe you.”

The sound of the melody overtakes the conversation. You feel Heeseung’s steady heartbeat as he expertly moves your bodies together on the dance floor. When you close your eyes, you think of this moment and how badly you want to commit it to memory, no longer in anguish over the tribulations of the past year. It feels nice to let go of your worries, even better that you have Heeseung back.

“I really want to kiss you,” he murmurs under his breath. You pull your head back.

“Then you should kiss me.”

Heeseung wastes no time and pulls you into him, one arm around your waist and the other behind your neck. His mouth finds yours when he decides he loves the taste of red wine on your lips. It feels poetic to be kissing you for the first time as you’re both dressed to the nines in the middle of Paris. To him, kissing you feels like a breath of fresh air and the start of something new. For you, kissing him feels like coming home.

When he pulls back, you search for his eyes.

“Take me back to the hotel,” you whisper.

Heeseung feels his heart drop.

“I’m sorry. We can go back now.”

You grip the collar of his slightly unbuttoned dress shirt when he moves. It’s only then that Heeseung sees the want in your eyes and the pure lust that clouds your pupils.

“Take me back to the hotel.”

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

By the time your elevator reaches your floor, Heeseung’s dress shirt is completely unbuttoned with his toned chest exposed. You’re barely able to detach yourself from his mouth when he pushes you out of the contraption. Your hand reaches for his as you pull him towards your room, digging through your purse when you feel Heeseung’s lips on the back of your neck.

“You look sexy in my jacket,” he mumbles, pressing wet kisses to your skin.

“L-Let me find the key.”

“So sexy.” His hands slide up the side of your body until he grips your waist.

When the door opens, you pull Heeseung inside with you and lock it shut before pushing his dress shirt off of his body, exposing his muscular build and broad shoulders. You aren’t shy about hiding your lust, gazing all over his chest and abdomen as you feel your core drip with arousal.

“I like it when you look at me like that,” Heeseung says. He reaches for your hand and places it on his chest. You take the liberty to glide your nails down his abdomen, feeling the way he tenses underneath your touch.

“I’m really wet,” you say as you eye the tent that has grown in Heeseung’s pants.

“Are you?” he asks. “You won’t mind if I check?”

You shake your head and Heeseung takes that as a green light, his hands finding the soft fabric of your dress before pushing his hand underneath it. He whimpers when his fingers come in contact with your wet lips. It’s adorable, the way you push yourself against him to chase his lips while he fingers smear your wetness across the fabric of your panties.

“Bed,” you mumble against his lips.

He follows where you pull him, loving the way you take control when you push him onto the mattress. Heeseung distracts himself to catch his breath from the overwhelming sense of pleasure to realize that you’ve started to undo his belt buckle and take his hard cock out of his pants.

“You don’t have to—”

“I want your cock in my mouth,” you plead, looking him in the eye. “Please let me.”

You sit politely on your knees as you unbuckle Heeseung’s pants. His chest rises and falls in anticipation and he looks down at you to see that your mouth is watering at the sight of him.

He’s already fully hard; he has been since you started unbuttoning his shirt in the elevator. You spit directly onto the tip of his cock and he bites his lip at the sudden contact before watching as you swipe your hand up and down himself.

Heeseung doesn’t want to think about how you learned to do what you’re doing to him. He doesn’t want to think about the boys you’ve kissed or the people who got to see you like this before. What he does know, however, is he’s the only person from here on out who will see you on your knees if he can help it.

Your mouth envelopes the head and Heeseung emits a short grunt. The tension between you two begins to slowly dissipate as you fit more of his cock inside of your mouth. Your tongue expertly traces every ridge and vein as you push your throat down onto him, causing Heeseung to put his palms on the mattress and throw his head back.

You hum around him when he moans. He’s itching to put his hand behind your head but refuses the idea, letting you set your own pace. Heeseung watches as you switch your angle, sitting up to rest on your knees to push your head further down on him. He witnessed as you spread your legs, a choked moan coming from his throat in conjunction with a particular gag from your mouth.

There’s spit everywhere. It’s trailing down your lips and connecting to his cock when you pull yourself from his body. It’s seeping to his pants and he’s about to speak up when your motion attaches itself to his sensitive balls, licking at its warmth while your hand strokes him from atop.

“That’s it. Fuuuuck.”

He bucks his hips once and curses. Heeseung feels your mouth envelop one of his balls, the pressure of your mouth around it making him feel a kind of euphoria he didn’t know was possible. Your mouth moves to the other to give it the same treatment before retreating back to his cock. This time, your hand massages him from below as you suck on him.

When you look up at him and wink, he decides enough is enough.

“Baby,” Heeseung pants, attempting to push your head off of him. He thinks it’s so sexy that you’re turned on while giving him a blowjob. “Baby, please stop. I don’t wanna come yet.”

You oblige and take your mouth off of him with a popping sound. You sit back and Heeseung stares at you through drooping eyelids in pure shock and amazement at how you’ve managed to pull him to a near orgasm as quickly as you did.

“Come here,” he beckons with his fingers.

He attaches his mouth to yours and pushes his tongue inside of your mouth, exploring the warm, wet walls you have to offer. Heeseung decides that he loves the feeling of your tongue against his and lets you suck on the muscle.

You take your dress off to reveal sheer panties with nothing else on. Heeseung’s jaw drops at your beauty, but he also cannot believe how sexy his best friend’s body is. To him, you were sculpted from the hands of Aphrodite herself with great love and care. And it’s all for him.

“You are so fucking sexy,” he murmurs, hovering over your body to press kisses to the valley of your chest. You let his hands roam and spread your legs to make room for him.

Heeseung’s head travels back to your chest and you watch as he envelops your right nipple in his mouth. “Your tits are just perfect.”

He makes a show out of it, hands cupping your breasts to massage them as his mouth works on you. He pushes your tits together and shoves his face between them, inhaling your scent while his tongue gathers whatever taste your body gives him. Heeseung moves to your left nipple and uses his tongue to flick the hardened bud over and over again until you’re arching your chest into his mouth.

He grinds himself into your core with his pants still loose around his legs. It brings a moan out of your throat and he swallows it whole with his lips pressed firmly against yours. The friction feels delicious with the fabric of your panties against the hardness of Heeseung’s cock. He grinds against you with the help of your hips rolling into his, your natural wetness coating his cock in your essence.

Heeseung moves his head to kiss your jawline, moving his mouth all over the expanse of your neck until he kisses right below your earlobe. You let out a particularly loud moan when he does, and Heeseung curses.

“Shit. Yeah baby, make those sounds for me. Let me hear your pretty moans.”

His mouth attacks the area again and you aren’t shy about it. Your hands tangle in his hair as he kisses your neck and grinds his cock against the wet panties, which have by now molded to the shape of your pussy.

Heeseung groans at the feeling of a particularly wet gush and lifts his hips enough to elicit a whimper out of your mouth. He experimentally lifts his hips again to align himself with you as he did before. The pressure must feel so good because your mouth hangs open with your eyes boring into his.

“That’s it,” he encourages. “Does my baby feel good?” You can only nod and he doesn’t blame you. “That’s a good baby. Fuck, you’re so wet, it’s driving me crazy.”

Heeseung feels your legs wrap around him and the way your heel pushes his lower back into your core. He takes the hint and quickens his pace, wanting nothing more than to see you come for him.

“You gotta come for me now, pretty girl,” he coaxed. “You deserve to come. Won’t you do that for me?”

Heeseung is sure that he’s never seen or heard anything more erotic compared to the vision of watching you come. Your mouth opens with breathy moans as you focus on your pleasure and your eyes squeeze shut as if you’re trying to savor the moment in your mind.

“Atta girl,” Heeseung praises when your hips grind into his. He keeps himself still and lets your body take over.

You eventually come down and realize Heeseung has yet to come, but that’s the last thing on his mind. He sinks his body down to come face-to-face with your crotch and licks the come off of the soiled fabric of your panties. The sheerness gives him a sneak peek at your pussy, and he groans when he licks a slow, fat strip up your slit.

“You taste so fucking delicious, baby.” He licks at you again, faster this time. “Tastes like milk and honey.”

Heeseung kisses your wet panties over and over again, his soft lips providing jolts of pleasure. His hands roam around the soft flesh of your thighs and squeezes them as if he remembers you’re all his to touch. The feeling is one you want to commit to memory, but it seems like Heeseung knows your mind is working overtime because he reaches his hand to find yours and gives it a reassuring squeeze.

You let his hand go when he pulls it from you to slide the useless barrier down your legs and to undo the straps of your heels. He takes great care to kiss your skin tenderly, starting by your ankle and making his way down just shy of where you need him the most. Heeseung repeats the process on the other leg until he comes face to face with your glistening core, licking his lips as if he doesn’t know where to start.

“Such a pretty pussy,” he says before placing a soft kiss to your clit.

He repeats the motion, kissing your folds like they’re delicate antiquities that need to be handled with the utmost care. His lips become covered with your essence; he feels you squirm underneath him and uses the expanse of his palms to gently pry your legs open for him, soothing the soft skin of your inner thighs.

Heeseung tentatively licks your slit and decides he loves the sound of your moans when he has his mouth on you. He does it again, dragging his tongue to feel every ridge and crevice that he’s yet to explore. His mouth feels like a warm comfort with the slow pace he sets, licking you as if he’s trying to tell you how much he loves you without saying it.

“You taste divine.”

You look down below to see his hair covering his eyes and brush it away with your hands. Heeseung looks right into your soul and you feel your heart clench, causing you to roll your hips into his face. He merely buries his nose close to you until he bumps your clit with the tip, pushing his wet muscle into you deeper.

When your moans get lighter and your breathy sounds are the only audible thing in the room aside from his own moans. You open your eyes to see Heeseung humping the mattress below you. The sight is so erotic that you can’t help but let out a loud whine at the thought of Heeseung pleasuring himself while pleasuring you.

He brings his fingers to your pussy and sways his fingers back and forth until he foregoes his slow pace, favoring a faster one. He abuses your swollen clit while you can only lay there and watch him play with you. Heeseung expertly inserts his middle finger into your seeping hole and bites his lip to concentrate on getting you to come again.

“I need it,” he confesses, bringing his mouth to lick you as he adds another finger. “I need you to come for me again, baby. Can you do that for me?’

“Yes, Hee,” you pant. “I wanna come so badly.”

“You can do it, baby. You’ve been such a good girl tonight, giving me the best head and letting me make you come. I think you deserve to feel good.”

“I do,” you nod rapidly. “Fuck, I think I’m coming.”

“That’s right,” he coos, hammering his digits into you while his tongue laps up the juices leaking from your pussy. “So good. You taste so fucking good. Give it to me.”

He doesn't relent until he’s satisfied. Heeseung cleans the come from your lips as best he can while sneaking his hand to his cock, pumping himself as he tastes your orgasm on his tongue.

“You’ve crazy,” you mutter as you settle from your high, loving the feeling of Heeseung’s mouth tenderly licking you clean.

“For you.” He pulls his face away and wipes the back of his hand before pressing a kiss to your clit.

When he rises to take his pants and boxers off, he sees you with your arm covering your face.

“Are you doing okay?”

“Perfect, actually,” you sigh. You remove your arm to see him with his cock in his hands and motion him to come towards the edge of the bed as you crawl on your knees before sitting upright to pull him into a searing kiss.

“That might be the hottest thing I’ve ever seen you do,” Heeseung says against your mouth. “It’s better than porn, if I’m being honest.”

You grab his cock and stroke him. “I’ll consider letting you take a video of me when we get back home if you fuck me right now.”

“Turn around,” he says after an open-mouthed kiss.

You follow his instructions and he groans to himself as you present your perfect pussy to him again. Heeseung sinks to his knees and smacks your ass before shoving his tongue into your hole. He spreads your asscheeks apart and digs his nose against you, licking up the wetness and remnants of your orgasm like it’s his last meal. His tongue licks up your body until he finds your wrinkled muscle and presses a soft kiss to your tightest hole.

The surprise comes to him when you moan softly. Your body doesn’t jerk away. Rather, you spread your legs further for him and Heeseung moans against your pussy before bringing his tongue to lick over the muscle again.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he asks, dipping his tongue back in.

“Better than I imagined.”

“You imagined my tongue in your ass, baby?”

You nod. “I’ve always wanted to know what that feels like.”

Heeseung doesn’t give you a verbal answer. Instead, he spits into your hole and watches it dribble down to your pussy, licking his way from your incredibly wet folds to your hole once again. He licks over the expanse with the surface of his tongue one, twice, three times before you’re whining for his cock. He wastes no time tearing open the condom and hurriedly places it on himself.

The first stretch of his cock in your pussy makes him see Heaven. The sharp gasp that comes from your mouth is music to his ears and he’s careful to sink himself into you slowly, inch by inch until you’re telling him he can go further.

His cock impales you at such a perfect angle that it has you falling to your elbows, your back arched so perfectly that he’s sure you’d be the most popular pornstar if you really wanted to be. He keeps half of his cock in you to allow you to adjust, but he underestimates just how cock hungry you are because you back yourself until he’s filling you to the brim.

“Baby’s such a slut, isn’t she?” Heeseung wonders out loud. He grins when you nod. “I love you like that. So dirty for me.”

“Only for you,” you say, cheek pressed to the mattress when Heeseung thrusts in you.

The sound of skin slapping echoes throughout the room. It doesn’t take long for your wet juices to glisten over the back of your thighs and onto Heeseung’s. His hands find purchase on your hips as he pulls your body close to him, loving the way your choked moans become muffled by the mattress below.

“So. Fucking. Tight,” he moans with detailed thrusts. “So. Fucking. Wet.”

He climbs on the bed and plants his feet on the blankets, holding your body in place as he pounds into you from above. The angle has you seeing stars and rips moan after moan from you.

Heeseung grins wickedly. “Such a fuckable body. So perfect.”

His degradation paired with praise ignites a fire inside of you. You can only moan louder to let Heeseung know exactly how he’s making you feel and you can’t help but think you deserved to be fucked exactly the way Heeseung is fucking you.

The pleasure feels like an explosion of a thousand suns. Your body is warm from the hours you’ve spent in the hotel room and your neighbors getting a good night’s sleep is the least of your concerns. Heeseung’s cock drills into you from above like he’s a sex god and it nearly brings you to tears.

He turns you over carefully until you’re laying flat on your back with your head propped against the pillows. He steals one from you and puts it underneath the small of your back to create leverage before lining up his cock with your entrance and pushing himself in again.

Heeseung thrusts like he’s got to prove just how in love with you he is. Your wanton moans fill the room with his low grunts as his cock continually hits the one spot that makes you see stars, over and over again.

But you know he could do more to make you feel better. He must notice you in deep thought because he slows his hips.

“What is it, baby?” Heeseung asks when he notices your eyebrows knit together. “Is this okay? Do you need me to stop so we can take a break?”

“Take it off,” you whisper. His hips have faltered and his pace stutters at your words.

“Take what off?”

“The condom.” Heeseung nearly chokes. “Take the condom off.”

“Baby—”

“I just wanna feel you.”

Heeseung curses and his hips automatically drill into yours at the request out of pure shock. He can’t lie to himself. He’s thought about it multiple times since you left for Europe and as he’s come to term with his feelings for you. The cute fantasies about taking you on dates to dinner or drive in theaters transform into daydreams about dirty affairs in his bedroom with his seed leaking out of your perfect hole.

Still, he doesn’t believe it.

“Please, Hee,” you plead, arching your chest towards him. “Let me feel you. Don’t you want to come inside me?”

“Fuck,” he falters, his forehead on yours. “You can’t just say that…I can’t be risky with you.”

“Yes you can.” He watches you bite your lip and feels your hands push him off of you. Heeseung doesn’t put up a fight when he slips out of your warm hole and feels your hands grip his cock, desperately trying to tug the condom off of him.

Heeseung sees the pathetic rubber in your hands when you bring it up for him to see. It’s glistening and his mouth drools at the sight, lips parting enough as if he stares at it in disbelief. He groans lowly in your ear as he peppers a few wet kisses to your neck.

You spread your legs wider in the air and grip his cock in your head, pumping him a few times before letting his bare tip rest against your hole. His sharp intake is enough to make you bite your lip.

“Pussy’s so wet,” he says against your neck, pushing an inch inside of you. “God, I could come like this.”

“You can.”

“No, baby. Gonna fuck you the way you deserve before I come.”

With that sentiment, Heeseung pushes himself inside of you until he’s fully sheathed within your walls. He relishes the way you gasp at the sudden movement and he uses this angle to his advantage, positioning his ear next to your mouth to hear your delicious sounds.

He moves his hips at such a pace that it makes you feel like your body’s bouncing on top of the soft mattress below you. Heeseung presses his chest against yours to kiss you like his life depends on it, tongue invading the privacy of your mouth but you couldn’t care less where his mouth goes. He can feel your nipples on his skin and groans into your mouth when you clench at a particularly hard thrust.

“S-So good,” you stutter against his mouth with a breathy moan. Heeseung feels your arm around his shoulders, scratching at his back. “Fuck, fuck!”

“Mhm,” he coaxed. “Such a good baby. You look so pretty underneath me.”

With a new sense of purpose, Heeseung lifts himself to push himself into you at a deeper angle. He forces his hips into you harder, your hands coming to your chest to cup your tits to give you something to hold in the meantime.

“That’s right, beautiful. Squeeze your tits for me.”

You do, pinching and twisting your nipples until you hear Heeseung moan above you. It sounds nearly animalistic, the way his throat emits a groan that sounds so primal. He sees the dirty smile you paint your mouth with and leans his head down to press a kiss to your forehead before his hand comes to your cheeks, squeezing them between my fingers.

“You like it when I fuck you like this?” Heeseung asks, hips rolling against your own pelvis. When you nod, he gives you a nasty smile of his own and gives you a few harsh thrusts for good measure before pulling himself off of your chest with his cock still inside of you.

Heeseung sits on his knees and pulls out just far enough where his hot tip remains buried inside of you, relishing in the panty breaths you emit as he watches your chest rise and fall. You look so beautiful to him with your hair messed up against the pillow beneath you and with a few faint hickeys on your chest and neck. Heeseung thinks that all of his wildest dreams could never compare to how gorgeous you look when you’re positioned directly where he wants you.

You don’t complain when he pulls out to rest his cock on your wet, bare pussy. You wince at the loss and let him slide himself up and down, biting your lip when he grazes your swollen clit over and over again.

The man above you lifts your right leg so that he can grip you tighter. You relinquish any control left in your body as Heeseung curses and kisses the side of your ankle. He dips the head of his cock inside and thrusts shallowly as if to tease, but you know he’s exploring all the way his cock looks like against your own body.

It feels euphoric. The whole affair is dirty, but it’s the kind of dirty that makes you want to do it again. It’s the kind of dirty that makes this night an event you’ll want to remember for the rest of your night because Heeseung had poured his entire heart and soul for you to take.

For Heeseung, this pleasure is less about knowing you have him permission to put himself inside you. You’ve always been so sure of yourself and your body; it’s something Heeseung has always admired about you as a person. Growing up with your insecurities of relationships and dating might’ve made you feel like a late bloomer; to Heeseung, your tendency to keep your head straight has always been a testament to how knowledgeable you are about yourself and about others. You save yourself for people who are worthy of you, and god, does he want to be worthy of you.

“I love you,” Heeseung whispers from above you. His eyes are closed and he pays no mind to the feeling your pussy gives him. Flashes of your memories stitch together like a film reel with your laughter as the soundtrack. He doesn’t think he wants to hear anything else for the rest of his life.

Just for good measure, he whispers it again. “I love you so much.”

“And I love you.”

Heeseung opens his eyes to see your tender ones, cheeks flushed from the sudden compliment. He always liked that he knew how to get you to blush when no one else couldn’t. This time, a sense of pride blooms in his chest.

“I’ll never let you down,” he confesses. “And if I do, I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”

“I know, baby.” Heeseung’s hand cups your cheek and caresses it. “I trust you.”

That’s enough for him to release your leg from his grip and pound himself into you like his life depends on bringing you to peak happiness.

Heeseung’s palms are planted firmly on either side of your body as his hips roll gracefully against yours, the hot, wet mess between the two of you splashing on both of your thighs. He watches your eyes close shut and as your back arches to relieve some of the pressure, feeling somewhat proud of himself when he watches as your hands grab at the sheets for stability.

There’s nothing that compares to watching you orgasm. Your eyebrows knit as if you’re concentrating while your mouth stands slightly ajar at the euphoric feeling of that single knot that’s threatening to come undone until it does. All of the girls he’s deluded into thinking he liked could never compare to the looks and sounds you’re making.

“That’s it,” he coaxes softly. “Cream my cock, baby. That’s a good girl.”

Heeseung feels you push and clench around him, gushing until there’s nowhere left for your come to go. He peeks down at where the two of you meet and groans when he sees his cock becoming painted in a sheer layer of white. It edges him on and the moment he locks his eyes with yours, his hips begin to stutter and he spills all he has to offer inside of you.

He comes with short breaths as if he can’t believe you’ve allowed him to do so. Your hips move up and down as if to milk him for all he’s worth while Heeseung’s trying his best to balance his body on top of yours, grateful that some of his gym workouts prevent him from completely collapsing on top of you to.

His come seeps from your bodies and he pulls out, a few droplets splattering on your pussy lips. He nudges the tip against it, smearing his paint across your canvas and marveling at the sight.

“My good girl,” he murmurs, eyes locked in at his handy work.

“I’ve never let anyone come inside of me,” you say with a fond expression. Your arm comes to brush Heeseung’s hair from his face before cradling his cheek when he looks at you in surprise.

“Really?”

You nod, biting your cheek. “Well, I always knew you were it for me. I didn’t want anyone else tainting what’s yours.”

“Mine?” he asks, catching his breath. “You mean it? You’re mine.”

“I’m yours, Hee.”

“All mine,” he mutters to himself in disbelief.

You still feel his cock working itself against you. He’s still hard, a wonder after your hours locked away in your hotel room. It makes you laugh.

“No one has ever compared to you either,” Heeseung says. He doesn’t take his eyes off of you as he continues toying with your pussy. “Even when I fooled myself into thinking I didn’t like you.”

You laugh. “Well that’s good to hear. I realized all the guys I went after while I was abroad either looked like you or reminded me of you.”

“I can confidently and stupidly say the same.”

Your laughs echo through the room. Heeseung pulls your body upright, not caring that your mixed come is leaking on his cock and his bare lap. He kisses you with tender care, lips moving at a slow pace while his hands roam over the expanse of your back while your hands are on his broad shoulders. Heeseung could live like this everyday if you’d let him.

You smile midway through when you feel his fully hardened cock against you. Heeseung apologizes quietly against your lips but feels you shake your head, pulling back to push him against the headboard until he’s comfortably seated.

He looks at your pussy when you hover above him, the white cream still sticking to you as you grip his cock. Heeseung can’t believe his eyes when he understands what you’re about to do. Before he can even think, you align yourself with his cock and sink until you’re stuffed with him.

“Shit,” he curses through his teeth.

“What good is coming inside of me if you don’t do it again and again, Hee?”

“That might be the hottest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Oh, yeah?”

You don’t move just yet, opting to press small kisses to Heeseung’s face. You kiss his forehead, both temples, his nose, both eyelids, and the apples of his cheeks before placing a kiss to his lips.

“Before we leave, I want you to fuck me against that window,” you say, turning your head to the window that glimpses the city below.

“But people can see,” is Heeseung’s first comment.

“So?”

He chokes and when you feel his cock twitch inside of you, you can’t help but laugh at him.

“I’ve heard talk about your escapades, Lee. Why so shy with me?”

He smacks your asscheek. “Naughty girl. Didn’t know you were nasty like that.” Heeseung gives you that kind of teasing smile that has you folding for him all over again. “Alright then, humor me. What else do you want to do before we leave?”

“I’d love to give you a blowjob while we shower, too.”

“That can certainly be arranged. Anything else?”

You look around the room. “I kind of want to see you eat me out while I sit on the desk chair. Makes me think you’re some kind of secretary who’s desperate for my pussy.”

“I am desperate for your pussy,” Heeseung reminds you. “What if I’m the stone cold CEO and you’re the cute secretary whose ass I dream about?”

You seat his chest. “This is my fantasy. You can have yours when we get home.”

Heeseung raises his eyebrow. “Mm, you sure?”

“Positively,” you nod. Heeseung’s hands travel from your ass to your hips and guides you up and down his cock, letting you set the pace after the brutal first round from a few minutes prior.

“Gonna fuck you in and on my car, since you like being watched so much,” Heeseung teases. His words seem to make your pussy clench and hips move faster. He forgoes any shyness when speaking about his fantasies and spills his every thought.

“I always thought you looked so cute in your old school uniform. I’ve always wanted to take you in that skirt they gave you.”

“I’ll buy one of those sexy schoolgirl costumes and surprise you for your birthday,” you say, locking your eyes with him. “Oh, professor! Is there anything I can do to raise my grade?”

Heeseung laughs at your antics, but the images of you in the costume aforementioned makes his grip on your body tighter.

“I selfishly want to watch you suck me off while I play with the guys.” He says it in a way that makes him avert his gaze and you can see a faint blush on his face. “I-I saw this video on Twitter. It looks hot.”

“I can do that for you.” You kiss both of his burning cheeks.

“But mostly, I just want you to sit on my face. Mad at me? Sit on my face. Sad? Sit on my face. Happy to see me? Sit on my face.”

“Simp,” you grunt, thighs burning from pushing yourself on and off of Heeseung’s cock.

“And proud.” He smacks both ass cheeks again. “Now what do you say, baby? If you ride me until you come, you can blow me in the bathroom before I fuck you in front of the entirety of Paris. Can you do that for me?”

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

The next morning, you meet Heeseung and the rest of the guys in the lobby while Jay checks out on behalf of all of you. Jake’s the first to see you coming.

“You’re glowing and I don’t know if I like that.” He raises his eyebrow at Heeseung, who has pulled you into him by your waist.

“At least some of us are getting laid,” you retort. “I don’t recall seeing anyone do the walk of shame even though you had the room to yourself.”

Riki and Sunoo don’t try to contain their laughter as Jake’s cheeks turn a shade of pink. He rolls his eyes when you look at him, but shakes his head and punches your arm with your first.

“Nah, I’m really glad you two got that out of your system and worked it out.”

“You guys had major sexual tension,” Sunoo comments.

“Thank God Y/N’s room was at the end of the hall,” says Sunghoon. “I don’t know how their neighbors felt but I can sleep peacefully knowing I didn’t have to hear all of that.”

“Okay, enough,” Heeseung laughs. “We get it, we had a lot of sexual tension and now we’re fine.”

“So you guys are boyfriend-girlfriend?” Jungwon asks.

“Y/N is my girlfriend and I am her boyfriend.”

“I will key his car if he hurts you again,” Riki tells you, looking at Heeseung after he’s finished speaking. You detach yourself from his waist and bring your arms around Riki to give him a squeeze.

“Thanks, Riki.”

“Okay, we should call the cabs right now so we can get to the airport early,” Jay says from behind you.

“Jay is such a dad,” Jungwon whispers.

He pays no mind to Jungwon’s words, instead focusing on the way Heeseung pulls you into his chest. It warms his heart in ways he can’t explain.

“Congratulations, you two. Let’s go home.”

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

add yourself to my taglist !!

taglist: @baevsxii @lillotus17 @syzavxy @mrmld @nikilvrfvr.

#enhypen smut #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #kpop smut #enhypen scenarios #lee heeseung x reader #heeseung x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen x reader #heeseung smut #heeseung imagines #lee heeseung #heeseung scenarios #enhypen heeseung #lee heeseung smut #heeseung #tides of regret #my writing

5K notes · View notes

buckets-and-trees · 5 months

Text

What You Want

Fandom: MCU Characters/Pairings: lawyer!Bucky x curvy!female assistant reader Word Count: 2.7k Summary: Your boss, powerful lawyer Bucky Barnes, insisted he needed his indispensable assistant to accompany him on his trip to Norway. He also promised he would have you home in time for Christmas, but the weather decided to strike its wrath and decimate international travel, leaving you stranded for a few more days.

Content Warnings: modern AU, slight power dynamic, periphery/secular reference to the Christmas holiday, vaginal fingering, use of "plum" as a term of endearment

Logistical Notes: Written for @sstan-hoe Vee's Holly Jolly Challenge - I was given a selection of prompts including "That noise...keep making it," reindeer, and lawyer/assistant power dynamics. Also my December entry for @buckybarnesevents Build-a-Bucky-Bingo using the FLASHBACKS prompt. Divider by @saradika.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

You heard the door open and close behind you and then familiar footsteps approaching, but you didn’t turn to look, instead keeping your eyes on the beauty of the frozen wilderness on display before you.

“Peace offering?” Bucky spoke as he stepped up beside you at the rail of the balcony, holding one of two steaming mugs in his hands toward you.

You sighed but gave him a small smile and took the mug. “You don’t need to apologize. You’re a very powerful man, Bucky, but I’m relatively sure you don’t control the weather.”

“Not yet, but I’m trying to pull some strings,” he said with a smirk, and you smiled.

“It’s not your fault we can’t get a flight back to the States when a blizzard has taken out half the Eastern Seaboard.”

It was unlikely that even with all of James Buchanan Barnes’ considerable lawyering power and money that he would be able to get you back home before Christmas. The main international airports in New England would have to live through the record raging blizzard, dig out, and then there would be hundreds of thousands of passengers to accommodate in and out of the country. Reasonably your guess was that you wouldn’t be returning until as early as the day after Christmas at the earliest.

“I should still apologize though. I said I would have you home for Christmas.”

You took a sip of the hot coffee. “You should apologize, but you’re not.”

He smiled. “No, I’m not.”

He turned and looked out over the forest and frozen tundra with you, the snow sparkling by the moonlight. This side of the resort hotel Bucky had booked the two of you into looked out over the wilderness.

“How long are you going to stay out here?”

“Until I see a reindeer. You brought me to Norway in December. I want to see a wild reindeer.”

“Fair enough.”

After a few more minutes, Bucky spoke again. “Are you sure you don’t want to eat, though? They said our accommodations should be ready after dinner.”

It had been a bit of a feat to find any place this close to Christmas that wasn’t closed or completely booked, but Bucky had managed to find this place that although they said they didn’t have a place immediately available, they had late check outs that just needed to be cleaned and refreshed for new guests.

“It’s a very fine restaurant.”

“Alright, let’s go eat.”

“If that will be all for the evening, I’ll be happy to escort you to your suite, Mr. Barnes,” the maître d’ said. He had been attentive all evening, but being with Bucky on this business trip you had quickly learned only the most excellent service was a common thing for him.

“Yes, thank you, I think we’re finished,” Bucky replied, looking to you, and you nodded. You both scooted your chairs back from the table and then followed the man out of the restaurant, through the hotel lobby, past the bar, past the observatory lounge and balcony you’d visited earlier, and to a pair of elevators.

Dinner had been quiet, but not an uneasy quiet by any means for the two of you. Bucky was an intimidating man, power emanating from him very naturally, but after the first few weeks as his assistant, you had gotten over your nerves. After sitting with him through many lunches, plenty of meetings, taking notes from him on cases and projects, and a fair few late nights, you had grown comfortable around him, learned that he could be easy to talk to, but didn’t strive to fill a silence for conversation’s sake, something you appreciated.

The hotel Bucky had found was an upscale, moderately sized wilderness and ski lodge. When you arrived on the fifth and top floor, there was a cozy hallway that only boasted three doors, and you were led to the one at the very end, where the man unlocked the door, stepped in to hold it open, and then handed the key to Bucky.

“If you should need anything at all, simply pick up the phone and our staff will assist you,” he said. “Have a good evening, and we hope you enjoy your stay, even though we know it was unexpected for the holiday.”

“Thank you, dinner was fantastic, and the place looks wonderful, you’ve been great, Lucas. Have a good night,” Bucky said, and pressed what you were sure was a generous tip into the man’s hand.

All your and Bucky’s things had been left neatly to one side of the entry of the suite. A quick look around revealed that there were two rooms off either side of the spacious sitting area as well as a small kitchen and bar, and on the far side full floor to ceiling windows and a balcony. You had hoped for two rooms like you’d had at the previous hotel, but two rooms in a suite would be perfectly fine, especially since the stunning view out of the sitting room’s windows wasn’t the only beauty in the place. There was a fireplace with a gorgeous mantle with a roaring fire already ablaze and a stunning Christmas tree with gorgeous trimmings in the Scandinavian style.

“It’ll do, yes?” Bucky asked, watching you take in the beauty of the tree.

You smiled warmly at him, then looked back at the tree. “Yes, it’ll do just fine.” The sitting room was spacious and rivaled your cozy studio apartment back home for size. You stepped further into the suite. “Do you want to take a look at the rooms and pick which one you want?” you asked. All the trip was on the company’s expense account, and as his assistant, although you suspected he might be a gentleman and offer you the better room, you would defer to Bucky to actually pick.

“We’ll share whichever one is better,” he said with a shrug.

You scoffed. “No, there are two rooms in this gorgeous suite, I’m sure they’re both fantastic, I don’t mind taking the one you don’t want. Might even sleep on the couch so I can stay by the tree and look out those windows all night.”

He chuckled, low, and suddenly at your back. “You misunderstand me, plum,” he said, placing his hands on the curve of your hips and pressing his chest up against your back. He leaned in to speak the next words directly in your ear. “I’m having you in my bed tonight.”

Your breath caught.

You couldn’t move, and a soft, “Mr. Barnes,” was all you could say.

“Aw, none of that, plum, you haven’t called me Mr. Barnes for months, and I won’t it happening again now.”

“We shouldn’t,” you tried to protest, but even as you said the words, a traitorous part of you didn’t put much feeling behind them.

“Shouldn’t we? You’re smart enough to know I didn’t really need to bring you on this trip with me, but I wanted to. Didn’t want to go that long without seeing you, wanted you by my side in a charming Nordic country during the height of its festive season, and you said yes, like the perfect assistant that you are. I told myself that was enough, didn’t go knocking on your door any of the nights we were at our first hotel, kept it professional despite wanting more and more of you every day we spent together away from the office.”

His hand moved from your hips to circle around your front, his left moving over your soft stomach over to the other side to rest over the front of your right hip, and his right further up your torso, his hand brushing the underside of your breast and resting firmly just below it, bringing you flush against him.

“Fate won’t let me get you home for Christmas, so why deny what it’s dangling right in front of me now?”

He pressed his lips to the sensitive spot just below your ear, and a small whimper escaped your throat.

“Let me have what I want,” he murmured, leaving a slow trail of more kisses down your neck. “I know you want it, too.”

“I – no, I don’t – I”

It was impossible to put up the words of protest when he licked the shell of your ear. You shivered in his arms instead.

“Let me ruin my perfect girl,” he pressed, slipping the hand that was at your hip into the waistband of your trousers. His hand stopped when his fingers met the lace edge of your panties. He turned you around abruptly and kissed you full on the mouth, cupping your face with both hands so you had no choice but to take the heat of his kiss, and the flame he’d been sparking started to catch more dangerously in your core.

He had somehow maneuvered you further into the sitting room so that when he suddenly broke off the kiss, you were in the middle of the space, the warm glow of the fire and the tree lights casting over you both.

Bucky stepped back, and you frowned in confusion, still breathless. He trailed a finger up the column of your throat to the tip of your chin, his blue eyes dark and hungry. “Undress,” he said.

He moved to the couch and sat, his eyes returning to you as he settled in.

“Undress,” he repeated.

That commanding tone struck another spark right to your cunt. You knew you were already growing wet for him.

You toed off your shoes one at a time, then took off your socks – those requiring you to move a little less elegantly than you wanted with his searing gaze on you. Standing aright again, your hands moved to the button of your trousers, fingers trembling since you had never stripped in front of anyone before. You weren’t a virgin, but although the partners you had been with before had been eager to have you naked, none had ever asked you to undress for them like this, like they wanted to see your full figure, not just fuck it.

Bucky spoke your name in a way that had you pause and look up at him again.

He leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. “You know I pride myself on my instincts. I think we both want this, but there are two rooms here.”

You bit your lip.

He was offering the veiled choice if you wanted it.

Your mind raced with flashbacks of conversations and thoughts you’d had over the past few weeks clear back to the first few meetings with your boss.

Insisting to your mother that your boss did absolutely need you to fly with him to Norway to assist him with meetings with an international client the week before Christmas.

Your best friend insisting on a shopping trip for your fancy work trip to a foreign country “because if your hot boss isn’t going to seduce you, have a foreign fling!”

Your heart stuttering the first time your eyes met your boss’s deep blues the day you interviewed with him.

The same eyes that were riveted on you now.

On you.

You unbuttoned your trousers and lowered the zipper. You glanced down as the fell to the floor, then stepped carefully out of them. When you looked back up, you saw even more hunger in Bucky’s eyes, and it warmed your blood. Looking right into those eyes, you reached for the hem of your sweater and lifted it up and over your head, letting it drop to the floor as well.

“Mmm,” he hummed in approval. “C’m’ere,” he beckoned, sitting back on the couch again, but beckoning you into his lap as he watched your every move.

You concentrated on his eyes and on keeping your breathing steady. When you were close enough for him to reach for you, he held out his hand. You took it and let him pull you gently down to straddle your legs on either side of his.

“My perfect plum,” he murmured. His hands moved up your thighs, over your hips, up your waist, and back down.

“Your plum?” you asked, watching his face as his eyes roved over you up close.

“My perfect plum - I want to savor every delicious curve of your body,” he said before dropping a kiss to the top of your breast. Your hands went to his shoulders to steady yourself. “When I felt that lace of your underwear, I thought maybe you did want this, too.” His lips moved to the other breast where he kissed the exposed skin, then traced his tongue along the edge of the lacy cup, causing you to shiver. “There isn’t any other reason you would be wearing such pretty lingerie, is there?”

“No,” you admitted immediately.

“Just for me,” he said as he moved his hand to your mound and immediately slipped a finger beneath the fabric to stroke along your folds, making you gasp. “Good girl, already wet for me.”

You keened as his finger traced your warm hole but didn’t go in, instead taking the slick there and pressing it up over your folds. He continued tracing them up and down before moving up to find your clit, knowing he found it the second your head dropped back, and you let a, “Yes,” tumble from your lips. “More.”

His other hand skimmed up from your hip, up your side, to your neck, and then angled your head back down for another kiss. Your lips met his eagerly, mouths parting, you licked into his mouth, and he growled his approval. He moved his finger from your clit, but your whine was brief as he slipped that finger along with a second straight into your cunt, stroking in and out, over and over again. You canted your hips into his hand, and you felt the rumble of a chuckle in his chest, but he didn’t stop kissing you. Instead, he curled his fingers forward with each stroke, quickly finding the spongy spot that made you tremble and moan.

Breathless, it was you who had to break off the kiss first, but you pressed your forehead to his. “Feel good, plum?” he asked, and you registered that he sounded as earnest as you felt, his voice deep and a little breathless, too.

“Yes, sir,” you gasped.

“Mmm, sir? I like that,” he said, and rewarded you by moving his thumb to start circling your clit.

You moaned openly.

“That noise…keep making it.”

He sped up his motions just slightly, seeming to feel how your body was tensing up, building toward a powerful release.

“Ready to cum for me like a good girl?”

“Yes, sir!” your answer was more like a plea. “So close.”

Keeping up the rhythm on your clit, he applied more pressure with each thrust of his fingers up inside of you, hitting that sensitive spot on the front of your walls, and with just a few more strokes, the wave crested and rolled over you.

“That’s it, plum,” he cooed as you trembled above him, his other hand coming to smooth unhurriedly up and down your back as his fingers continued to stroke your channel, slowly extending your orgasm. “God, you’re so beautiful.”

He removed his fingers and brought them up to your mouth. You sucked them in, laving your tongue over them. “Can’t wait to see you come for me again,” he said. And too impatient for you to lick his fingers clean, he withdrew them and crashed his lips back into yours.

“Earlier tonight when I said I should apologize, and you called me right out for not doing any such thing?”

“Yes?”

“This is why I didn’t apologize. I was in no way sorry that I had more time with you, and I’m going to use it to take you apart and put you back together all night.”

You would think about all of this later. But he emptied your head of anything but him and the pleasure between you, making more than good on his promise to take you apart until you were completely spent and ruined in his bed.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fan fiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x curvy reader #babb2023 #vee's holly jolly challenge #aspen wrote somethinig

1K notes · View notes

bluesidez · 1 month

Text

Firefighter!Miguel Part 2

content warning: the urge to use AAVE was slipping through the nerves of my fingers. I tried to hold off, so if you see something that looks grammatically different, then it’s probably AAVE that I couldn’t NOT add. this is all fluff too! there are also mentions of food, but that's a norm for these drabbles

word count: 2.2k, proofread! (I think there's no mistakes 😭)

Prev | Next ‧₊˚ ⋅ 𓐐𓎩 ‧₊˚ ⋅𓌉◯𓇋 Masterlist

“Eileen! Is that you?!”

You internally groaned as your grandma hopped out of the motorized shopping cart to greet yet another person.

The trip to the grocery store to buy ingredients turned into a meet & greet with the star being your grandmother knowing everyone in the town.

You felt loopy, going from almost burning down your house to contemplating whether or not the hot fire captain would prefer yams or potato salad. Maybe both?

You grumbled to yourself as you scanned the aisle for a specific brand of cookies for some banana pudding. If all else fails, this was a dessert you could make with no oven.

“And now we’re here, trying to find this child something to cook with,” you heard your grandma fuss out. Why did your business have to be the topic of the conversation?

You turned and walked the short distance to your grandma and another woman who was….her old coworker? Her church member? Or maybe they went to school together….

“Good morning Ms. Eileen,” you say, thankful that you caught her name. You couldn’t keep up with everyone like your grandma.

“Is this the baby?!” she says, shocked eyes going from you to your grandma and back to you.

Your grandma nodded, a smile growing on her face.

“Child, I haven’t seen you since you were this little!” she says, holding her hand about 2 feet off the ground. She turns back to your grandma, “This can’t be the baby!”

You stand there with your lips in a line as you wait for the realization that at least two decades have gone by since you’ve last seen her.

Or more like since she’s seen you. You’re still trying to gather who she is.

“Yeah, this is my grandchild! All grown up and now we’re trying to win over a husband,” your grandma says, shaking your arm.

You wanted a hole to swallow you up or possibly grow some wings so that you could take flight. Anything to get out of this conversation.

“A husband?!” Ms. Eileen smiles mischievously. “Who are you trying to marry?”

“Uh-”

“Honey, this child got the Fire Chief ringing my doorbell!”

“He’s actually the Fire Captain-” you mumble, trying to get your two cents in

Ms. Eileen holds your hands and starts doing an excited bounce as she vocalizes her excitement.

“I need to get right then if we’re fixin’ to have a wedding!” she said, gesturing to her hair as if to fix it.

“It’ll be soon! Just wait and see!” your grandma says, putting her hands back on the handlebars of the car. “Let us go on and buy the rest of this stuff. We’ve got a lot to do. It was good to talk with you!”

Your grandma starts to move forward, somewhat ignoring Ms. Eileen as she started to open her mouth again.

“Leave me some of that food ok?” she calls out.

“If there’s any left, I’ll let you know!” your grandma says as she turns down the aisle.

You chase after her, waving to Ms. Eileen as you leave.

“Who was she again?” you ask as you two go down a new aisle.

“Eileen Wilkins from the school.” So she was a coworker! “She still doesn’t know how to stop talking, though.”

Your laugh sneaks out of you as you watch your grandma stop at some seasonings.

“Why do you say that? You were keeping the conversation up.”

“I was just being nice! It was fine until she started bragging about that granddaughter of hers. That girl doesn’t know her left from her right. How she make it to nursing school?”

“Maybe she’s a hard worker!” you respond.

Your grandma snorts, “Yeah. Working hard at paying somebody else to do her work.”

You just shake your head at your grandma. What are you going to do with this woman?

“Will you call the number already?”

“I don’t really want to do that,” you say, tapping your foot against the ground.

This would be the fourth station within the area that you called with no record of a "Captain O'Hara." You were starting to believe that you and your grandma made him up. Just a small figment of both of your imaginations. What your grandma saw as a suitor and what you saw as a hot guy just trying to do his job.

"You need to want to call," your grandma, responds. "We didn't get all of this food made for nothing. And you're wearing my good necklace! He won't know what hit him when sees you."

You both decided on soul food. Tin pans full of food for the entire crew from greens to mac to fried catfish. Then, there was a hefty styrofoam takeout plate made especially for him. Your banana pudding for him in a tupperware container with Nilla wafers patterned along the side.

Not to mention, you spent an unhealthy amount of time deciding which scent you should wear.

You looked infinitely better than you did when he last saw you with ingredients dusting your front and smoke coming out of your windows.

Still, it would all be for nothing if you couldn’t find his station.

While yon were staring off, your grandma tapped your phone, impatience riddling her frame.

“Grandma!” you shout, holding your phone as if it were a game of hot potato.

“Just ask if he’s there!” your grandma says.

“That’s not how this works-”

“Station 29, this is Captain O’Hara speaking.”

“Hi! Hello,” you turn back to the phone in a rush, embarrassed that he might have heard you and your grandma. You introduce yourself properly this time, saying that you wanted to bring some dinner down to the crew.

You hear a noise of shock as he starts to speak again, “That would be amazing actually. The crew was just trying to decide what to eat. When can we expect you?”

“I’ll be there in 10 minutes,” you say, a little too quickly to be honest.

“Perfect. We’ll see you then!”

You end the call and look up to your grandma who’s staring at you with a small smile.

“Now you tell him to bring back my good tupperware,” she says, instantly switching back to her regular self.

You just shake your head. Grandmas will be grandmas.

“I’m just trying to get you a good man!” she fussed. “And that’s my good tupperware. He’ll hear from me until I get it back.”

“And who were you just on the phone with? You’re smiling real hard there.”

“Shut up Parker,” Miguel fired back. “And why are you even in here. Aren’t you supposed to be washing T29 right now?”

“I finished that an hour ago, thank you very much. You’re so touchy!”

Miguel got up and shuffled Peter out of his office, “I’m not touchy. You’re just irritating me like usual.”

“Oh my god? You do have someone you’re talking to,” Peter says as he digs his feet into the ground, stopping Miguel. “How come you didn’t tell me? Is it that lady with the tree-loving cat? No! It’s the guy whose dog keeps getting stuck in the wall! There’s a theme here.”

“No, I’m not- Will you move? I’m not dating anyone with daredevil pets,” Miguel responded, trying to push Peter in a new spot.

“Cap is dating?” Ben asks as he walks by the two bickering like cats. “When can we see them?”

“I’m not dating-”

“Miguel! You didn’t tell me anything,” Jess says as she comes down the hallway.

“Why won’t you ever address me as Captain?”

“I will if you tell me who you’re dating,” she says with a smile on her face.

“I’m going to lose my mind,” Miguel mumbles, letting Peter fall to the ground instead of fighting him.

“Well if you weren’t talking to your lover, who was that?” he asks from the ground, the wind knocked out of him.

“While you all were slacking, I was making sure that everyone goes home with a full stomach. Remember the kitchen fire from earlier this week? They’re bringing some food for us.”

“Will it be safe to eat?” Ben says, eyes flittering to Jess nervously.

“It was a broken gas line, you idiot,” Jess says with her mouth turned sideways. “At least wait until the food is here before you judge it.”

“No way,” Peter says from the ground. “You put them in your lap and now they’re bringing you food.”

Miguel lightly kicks Peter in the thigh, making him scream out a scale of keys.

“That face gets so many people,” Jess sighs annoyingly.

Firefighter!Miguel who jogs out to the car when you arrive. No, he wasn’t watching the clock or his cameras. He just happened to see some movement in one of the security cameras.

He opens the door for you, helping you out of the car.

It’s like you’re a totally different person from the frantic little baker from earlier.

“Can you help me get the plates out of the trunk?” you say, voice barely reaching his ears with how soft you’re speaking.

“Of course,” he replies.

He manages to carry all four hot tins of food, leaving you with just two plastic bags to carry.

Firefighter!Miguel who places the tins on the table with ease.

“Is there anything else?” Peter asks, walking up to his side.

“No, I think this was all of the tins,” Miguel replied with his hands on his hips.

“Show off,” Peter whispers with a smile on his face. He patted his shoulder and walked towards the entrance.

Miguel blushed, realizing how that might have read to you.

Firefighter!Miguel whose eyebrows raise as you hold him back from getting in line, a plastic bag aimed towards him.

“I made you a separate plate. You were especially kind to me and I wanted to show my appreciation,” you say with a smile on your face.

“Thank you,” he says, taking the bag. “Should I give you the verdict?”

Your heart beats faster, watching his pretty face light up. You nod your head, hopeful that he’ll love the food.

Firefighter!Miguel who has you sit next to him at the table. The crew is quiet for once. Nothing but smacks and the shuffling of cups could be heard.

“Don’t be rude, guys. Say thanks,” Miguel chides at his crew.

At the sound of his voice, everyone starts thanking you profusely.

Miguel starts to open his bag and you feel like you could break out in a sweat.

You watch as he opens the plate and his eyes go big.

“Hey, how come he gets the extra stuff?” Ben whines from the end of the table.

Jess elbows him to shut him up, eyes throwing daggers.

You may or may not have added some fried chicken and potato salad to his plate.

You wait anxiously as he takes a bite.

Is it weird that you counted the seconds as he chewed?

“Damn, that’s good,” he says, leaning back in his chair.

If everyone could hear your thoughts, they’d truly be terrified at the screams going on right now.

“You like it?” you ask, biting your lip.

“This might be the best food I’ve had in a while,” he replies back. “Thank you!”

Your smile grows, watching as he tears away at his food. His laser focus doesn’t stop him from smacking Peter’s hand away from his banana pudding.

Firefighter!Miguel who walks you back to the car. Everyone was chatting and laughing at the table. The after-food glow on all of their faces.

“Everything was really delicious. Thank you for this. You didn’t have to,” he says as he opens your door.

“Stop, I really wanted to thank you guys. You all are the true heroes. Oh! And my grandma would really appreciate it if you brought her container back.”

Miguel chuckles, giving you that pretty smile of his. He looked so pretty that way. The black shirt he was sporting was hugging him just right too.

“Of course,” he responded. “We still have to check out your kitchen too, yeah?”

You nod, shocked that he remembered.

“Tell you what, I’ll give you my number and we can work that out tomorrow.”

He hands you a card, writing down what you assume is his personal number. As he hands the card to you, your heart picks up as his fingers graze yours.

“I’ll see you then,” he says, waiting for you to get in your car before he closes it. He taps the hood and walks backwards, watching as you back out of the driveway.

You give him a little wave and squeal to yourself when gives a hearty one back.

Firefighter!Miguel who is hounded by his crew when he gets back inside.

Some of them are making kissy faces and the others are patting his back in encouragement.

“Would you all get back to work?” he sighed, annoyed at all of the attention.

He moved fast to his office, face in flames.

Firefighter!Miguel who groans out when he scoops some banana pudding in his mouth.

You were good. Really good.

He makes an angry face as he takes another bite, “My god.”

“Oo, they got you real good,” Jess snickers as she steals a bite of his dessert.

“Hey!” he said, moving too late to stop her.

She laughs as she runs from his office. Miguel gets up and locks the door, making sure that no one else could steal his food.

It was specifically made for him, after all.

divider by: @dollywons + @starzyyy1 ❤️‍🔥

a/n: Special thanks to @slushycoookie for giving me ideas! It was brilliant and much needed ☺️

If you want to be on the taglist, sign up here!

taglist: @snails-doodles22 @xerorizz @questionable-behaviour @babygotl01292003

577 notes · View notes

nachojaehyun · 2 days

Text

you give good love

pairing. brother’s best friend! idol! dino + fem! reader

summary. as lee chan’s eyes met yours again, he could feel his consciousness slipping away from his soul. god damn, he thought to himself. when did this brat get so hot?

playlist. kind of based off of you give good love by whitney houston but not really i was just listening to it while writing this

warnings. [PLEASE READ] reader is hoshi’s sister, mentions of freak dino 🫢, smut under the cut, PWP, afab reader, dom/sub dynamics, dom chan, pussy eating from the BACK, uses of pet names, chan has a BIG dick, BULGE KINK, very little dirty talking, slight overstimulation, unprotected sex (don’t do this irl please), creampie duh — 18+ MINORS DNI!

note. pi-cheollin is the reason i live and breathe. also i might write chunsunie x pi-cheollin fics soon 😭 also thank you guys so so so much for 2K notes on the wonwoo fic 🙇‍♀️ super grateful for all your love, more soon. this is also my first ever long fic, so i hope you like it. enjoy!

“so yeah, those are the dates and timings of the flight. now, check your schedule.”

soonyoung could hear the ruffling of paper as he waited on the phone. the air con blasted in his face, evaporating any signs of sweat from his pores.

“yeah, i think i’ll be able to make it!” your voice chirped. soonyoung couldn’t help the smile on his face. “thank god! also, don’t worry about being lonely, jeonghan hyung’s sister will also be there, and also wonwoo’s sister.”

“i haven’t seen them in so long! wow, a true trip down memory lane,” you sighed, finally setting aside the calendar on your lap. “they ask about you a lot, i told you to exchange contacts with them!” your brother scolded you.

“i may have forgotten… but all that aside, how much do i need to pack?” you nervously bit your lip, contemplating how much shopping you would need to do.

“it’s a summer trip for one week, basically a mini vacation. pack a good amount of shirts and tops and modest shorts. bring your grandma style swimsuits for the pool.”

“grandma style swimsuit? oh please! i didn’t work out all winter to wear a one-piece!” you complained, flexing your biceps in front of the mirror. “i’ll bring what i want to bring.”

“and if i see any of these perverts staring at you, i’ll chop your head off too, yeah?” soonyoung sighed. “yeah yeah, they are the perverts. and you’re the polished lamb of jesus who has never gawked at wonwoo’s sister right?”

your rhetorical question has your brother stunned as he gapes into the abyss, his mouth filling up with the cool air from the air con. “i’m… how did you—” he begins, only to be cut off by the doorbell of his shared apartment.

“that’s the others. look, i’ll leave now, but make sure to pack properly, okay? text me if you need anything. see you soon.”

with that, he hung up. you smiled as you set down your phone, already deciding the outfits in your head.

as you walked over to your closet, your phone interrupted your thought process with a loud notification.

이찬: oi

이찬: did you get the plane tickets?

with a sigh, you texted back your brother’s best friend, who had somehow managed to find out about soonyoung inviting you.

you: ya, i will be coming.

you could see the dots bouncing on the screen, but you chose to ignore them. switching over to a music app, you started to scroll through and pick your random playlist.

your brother’s song, God of Music started to play and you threw your phone on the bed, enjoying the music.

you could text chan back later. he was really annoying, and it’s not like he meant anything to you anyway.

your phone buzzed with his notifications as you sorted through swim suits. “hmm, this makes my ass look fat right?”

as you landed in the jeju international airport, you gathered your luggage and made your way to the gates.

your brother was already waiting outside, clad in a mask and a cap. wonwoo and his sister accompanied him, smiling and waving at you.

“hey guys!” you hugged them, before fixing the crop top that rode up your waist. “i missed you so much!” minji (wonwoo’s sister) squealed.

the four of you got in the car after shoving your luggage in the back. wonwoo sat next to your brother, scrolling through his phone as you and minji chatted their ears off.

soonyoung couldn’t help but peek at the rear view mirror ever so often, catching glances of minji and smiling to himself.

you wanted to call him out, but decided against embarrassing your brother so early into the trip.

within 30 minutes, you had reached the share house. it was a beautiful property, surrounded by greenery. the sounds of waves crashing on the beach wallowed around you as you dragged your suitcase up the ramp.

“eunsok is dying to meet you! we must make a group chat this time, so that we remember to check up on each other, yeah?” minji helped you with your handbag, smiling as you nodded enthusiastically.

in front of the main door, you took in a sharp breath, before pushing the mahogany portico open.

immediately inside, you were greeted by jeonghan, joshua and mingyu lounging about on the couch. however, upon the sound of your entrance, eunseok ran down the stairs, engulfing both you and minji in a bone-crushing hug.

“i missed you!” she screamed, nearly tackling you on the floor. with a giggle, you hugged her back. “me too! its just sad that sophie couldn’t join us.”

muttering agreements under their giggly breath, the two helped you get up, and greet the others.

as you answered jeonghan’s questions about your well-being, you heard heavy footsteps from the stairs.

lee chan’s body appeared downstairs. when his gaze countered yours, you choked on your words.

it had been nearly 5 years since you had seen him in person. and wow, had he changed. dino, as he was famously known as these days, sported much bigger muscles, and a sculpted face. his hairstyle was finally suiting his face, a beautiful contrast to the bowl cuts you had seen him in during childhood.

for the first time in your life, you actually looked at him. and boy, did he look good. the tank top he wore showed off his body as he walked towards you, checking you out silently.

he had to admit, you surprised him. your black crop top, barely there jean shorts, and long brown hair came as a huge shock to chan.

he had remembered you as the snot-faced bratty sister of his best friend. the girl in pigtails who would cry every time he brought up your crush in middle school.

as lee chan’s eyes met yours, he could feel his consciousness slipping away from his soul. god damn, he thought to himself. when did this brat get so hot?

“hi,” chan finally placed himself in front of you, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets. “hi,” you breathed out, clutching the handle of your suitcase tighter.

“oh, you guys are meeting after so long!” mingyu chuckled, his eyes wandering around the room as he noticed the tension between you and his youngest member.

“yeah,” you smiled, transfixed by chan’s eyes. his plush lips parted as he glanced at your glossy ones, before quickly scanning your face.

“okay, that’s enough of your weird staring contest,” soonyoung placed a hand on chan’s chest, pushing him back to create some distance between you two.

“i’ll help you get to your room,” he turned to you. “you’re lucky, since you get it to yourself, but its comparatively smaller and narrower than the others—”

“wait, weren’t we supposed to buy alcohol and meat from the store on the way back?” wonwoo suddenly remembered, making all the eyes in the room turn to him.

“shit!” minji slapped her forehead, tutting. “we’ll go get them then! you wanna come with?” she smiled at you, eunseok joining in.

“i think i should set up my things first yeah? but take soonyoung in my place,” you shoved your brother forward. “he’d love to go grocery shopping with you.”

minji’s cheeks flared up as she straightened her posture, nodding. “sure yeah.”

within minutes, wonwoo, minji, eunseok, soonyoung and mingyu headed off to the car, ready to buy crates of beer for the evening.

as the door shut behind him, jeonghan threaded his hands through his hair, smirking. “dino-yah,” he cooed. “why don’t you help her with her luggage?”

almost immediately, joshua joined in, egging on the maknae as both of you felt the heat creep up on your neck.

wordlessly, chan snatched your suitcase from your hand, beckoning you upstairs. you bowed at the two elder to you, before running up to chan.

he led you to a small room in the very corner of the second floor, opening the door with his leg as he walked in.

chan cleared his throat as you walked in, placing your hands on your bare waist. “so, this is your room.”

you nodded at him, taking in your space for the rest of the trip. the room was furnished with a queen sized bed, a love-seat in the corner, a small desk and chair and a balcony in the very end.

“this door,” chan walked over to a door that sat perpendicular to the entry. “this is the door to a common bathroom. its a jack and jill one, that connects to the room opposite to you.”

“oh? and who’s in the room opposite to me?” you questioned, raising your eyebrow. with a dramatic sigh, chan leaned against the bathroom door, swinging his head to meet your eyes.

“its me.”

your breath hitched as he gulped. “w-wow,” you stuttered out. “sounds great, chan. looks like we are forced together again,” you smirked, crossing your arms as you stared at him.

he knew what you were referring to.

back when you were kids, and way before the idiot in front of you had signed with Pledis, you and soonyoung had gone to his house for a sleepover. chan’s mother had insisted on having you sleep on the bed, since “the floor is no place for a lady to sleep.” you and chan shared the bed, while soonyoung dozed off on the ground.

you were 14 at that time, and you remember how you skin had heated up when chan inched closer to you. “there’s no one to save you from my tickles now, crybaby!” the 15 year old boy had threatened.

yet, chan could barely focus on the flashback, instead focusing on the way your breasts nearly fell out from the neckline of your top.

you noticed his staring. smirking, you drew closer, tightening the cross of your arms.

“what’s this now, you’re ogling at me?”

you had him cornered. chan’s back was against the wall at you forced yourself into his space, breasts touching his hard torso.

“i—in you dreams!” he lied through his teeth, nervousness oozing out of his soul as he stared down at your tits.

god, the things he would do to slot his dick between those beautiful, gorgeous, one of a kind—

“my eyes are up here, channie,” you stuck your tongue out at him, before backing away and walking up to your suitcase.

dino felt his blood rushing south as you bent over to pick your bag up and place it on the table.

you purposefully wiggled your ass, humming to yourself. “channie,” you called out, voice as sweet as a siren.

“yeah?” dino collected himself, shaking away the filth that plagued his mind. two can play that game, he decided, biting his lip.

“can you come help me put my things in the bathroom? i have too much to unpack.”

with a nod, he walked over to your space, his chest touching your back as he leaned over your shoulder. “why did you pack so much, hm?” he teased you, running his fingers down your smooth arms.

not backing down from the challenge, you pushed your ass against him, whipping your head to meet his eyes. “i just wanted to look good, y’know? in case there was a strong, buff, hot man i wanted to seduce.”

with a hiss at your movements, chan’s hands flew to your hips. “yeah? you’ve grown up so much that you seduce men now?”

“oh, i do a lot more than just seduce,” you giggled, skincare long forgotten on the desk as you turned around, hopping on the wooden platform as your arms loosely slung around his neck.

chan slotted his knee between your legs, the pervert in him alive and breathing at the sight of you. you were driving him insane.

how you had managed to change so much over a few years had him baffled. instead of worrying about soonyoung, chan thought with his dick.

“what do you do then?” he questioned, eyes trained on your lips as you spoke. you pushed your clothed cunt down on his knee, biting back a moan.

“i think i would rather show you what i do than tell you,” you whimpered out, darkened eyes peering into his hazy ones.

chan bent his knee further into you, causing a delicious moan to escape your throat. “getting bold now, aren’t you?”

before you could even comprehend his words, your pussy spoke before you, hips rutting into his knee. however, a sharp knock on the door interrupted your little hump session.

“chan? y/n?” seungcheol’s voice spoke from behind the door. “you guys in there?”

chan quickly separated from you, walking closer to the door to answer. “yeah, i’m just helping her with her stuff. what’s up?”

“well, we were ordering some take out, so if you guys could come down and give your preferences, it would be great.”

“yeah, be there in a second,” chan glanced back at you, your teary eyes meeting his. the fucked out expression on your face made his dick jump to life.

but the heat of the moment had passed, which painted both of your cheek's a deep shade of red. realization hit dino way faster than it hit you. shooting you a tight-lipped smile, he shoved his hands in the pockets of his shorts.

with a sigh, chan left the room and left you breathless, panting as your senses slowly returned. the fire of lust in your stomach had dimmed slightly, as realization dawned on you.

what the fuck just happened? and why did you like it?

nightfall arrived faster than you expected. but the cool air surrounding the beach raised bumps on your skin as you shoved grilled meat down your throat.

seungkwan and mingyu worked on the grill, with vernon filling up everyone’s plates with the expensive store bought items.

you sat on a stool next to seungcheol, sipping on the beer can that was handed to you. when everyone was busy with their own thing, the leader turned to you and smiled.

“so, how have you been? a long has passed since we spoke right?”

you had always found comfort in seungcheol. he was the leader of the group, a very reliable and trustworthy person. you remember asking him for advice when you got into college.

“i’ve been well, how are you?” you set your can aside. “any luck with the ladies you used to complain about?”

he laughs loudly at that, spooning a mouthful of ramen. “no, i’m still stuck with one-night stands for now. dating is too complicated!”

when chan hears his hyung talking about his love life, he scoots closer to the both of you, shamelessly eavesdropping.

“what about you? get any action?” seungcheol giggled.

you could practically feel dino’s presence beside you like a wavering shadow, and you chose to exploit it. how dare he leave you with an unfinished orgasm?

“oh yeah, plenty!” you smirked. “don’t tell soonyoung, but i’m lowkey addicted to sex? just feels so good to let off some steam, you know? and the dudes around me are so easy… they fall into my hands like domino.”

the harsh truth behind those words were only known to you. you had been on a dry spell for nearly 2 months now. your fingers and toys were not enough, and you were pretty sure you had started to hallucinate about dick.

“wah, kwon hoshi’s sister is all grown up, huh? good for you girl, go get them!” seungcheol cheered you on, clinking his can with yours.

you sneakily turned to look at chan, who had suddenly grown silent in his conversation with seokmin. “dino-yah. are you okay?”

chan’s eyes met yours and he immediately tensed up. you noticed how white his knuckles had turned, just from gripping wooden chopsticks.

“i’m fine,” he smiled, eyes dancing over your body before he returned to his friend. your bralette was doing nothing to hide your slightly tanned skin, black shorts making your perky ass stand out even more.

dino mentally cursed soonyoung for even allowing you to wear that. but then again, his best friend was too preoccupied with his little crush to pay you any attention.

the rest of the mini barbeque was a tough time for him. the poor boy could only think about your tantalizing words to seungcheol, calling a sweet string of cusses to all the men that touched you before he ever could.

you noticed how your plan was working, hiding your smirk behind a colorful can of beer as lee chan suffered in silence.

within a few hours of outdoor activity, jun and minghao said goodnight to everyone first, tired of all the hustle and bustle. a few others followed suit, yawning and sighing.

at the end of the night greetings, you, dino, wonwoo, seungcheol, soonyoung, minji, and joshua remained near the pool. you saw how your brother kept leeching up to minji, cracking idiotic jokes under her brother's watchful eye.

"i... i think i'll head to bed now, good night guys!" you stretched up from your chair. chan's eyes followed the way your skin gleamed under the fairy lights. he gulped loudly as you purposefully swayed your hips while walking inside.

"you can follow her in, chan-ah," wonwoo smiled, shifting his gaze to the youngest momentarily. "i'll keep kwon hoshi here for a while."

"what are you on about?" dino tried to play it off, scoffing as he crunched up a beer can. wonwoo could only roll his eyes.

"it's obvious you like her, and i'm just giving you a chance to work on it. you really should tone down the staring... soonyoung would kill you if he found out, and i am willing to help you for now. so don't be an idiot and go."

smiling toothily at his hyung, dino whispered out an "i love you" before running up the stairs. he reached his room without breaking a sweat and decided to shower before doing anything.

however, when he was about to slide the door to your shared bathroom open, he heard a loud sigh coming from inside. shamelessly, chan pushed his ear against the door, curious as to what you were doing.

your sigh was followed by a small whisper that sounded like "i can't believe i'm doing this." then, chan heard a zipper being opened.

his eyes widened as he realized what you were actually doing. "no way," he mouthed to himself, feeling his boner re-emerging at a sudden squelching noise.

"mhm," you moaned behind the door, and the pervert in the next room could only imagine what you looked like. "f-fuck chan!" you whimpered, and dino felt his eyes rolling to the back of his head.

the towel dropped from his hand, as his fingers sneaked to the hem of his basketball shorts. with a silent groan, chan stroked his chub as his eyes squeezed shut.

he pulled his cock out, swiping at his tip with his thumb. his brain worked overtime to imagine your hand in place of his, pretty eyes staring up at him.

meanwhile, in the bathroom, you leaned against the counter as your fingers stretched open your pussy. "feels so good," you whimpered, pitch increasing as you imagined his veiny hands pumping into you.

unbeknownst to each other, you and chan had cum to the thoughts of one another that night. chan made sure to cum at the same time as you, recognizing your borderline screams as you tipped over the edge.

what a filthy girl, he thought to himself, panting as his release spurted onto the towel he had discarded.

the starting 3 full days of the trip had made you avoid lee chan like he was the plague but personified.

every glance into his eyes had made you remember what you had done on that one night, and guilt seemed to sour your mood.

everyone had decided to go to the beach after having a few afternoon drinks. you spent your time around eunseok and vernon, gossipping about office trolls and work place shenanigans.

chan was simply drinking with seungkwan and minghao, refusing to give you any attention. although he was confused as to why you were ignoring him, he remained silent and decided to give you space.

jihoon suddenly joined into his conversation, hair tied back into a messy ponytail. “dino-ah,” he smirked, snatching a shot glass from the youngest’s hand. “i hear that there’s gonna be loads of girls on the beach today. wanna check some out? we can share if you want.”

as dino downed his shot, he stared back at his hyung with a grin. “don’t you remember what happened the last time we shared a girl? we had to take her to the hospital because she passed out!”

the group laughed, reminiscing the old memory. it wasn’t odd for them to share one-night stands. the boys were family, and they strongly believed in putting each other first.

the large number of giggles near you caught your attention. you and eunseok walked over to the boys, as she queried about their conversation.

“nothing much, it was just a last minute plan in prague… god we almost got arrested,” jihoon snickered, elbowing dino’s side. the youngest could only smirk, pouring himself another shot of soju.

questions flooded your mind as you stared at the man who had you in a chokehold. dino was clad in nothing but swim shorts, his taut muscles on full display for anyone to ogle over.

as the topic changed, your curiosity got the best of you. you staggered over to seungcheol, knowing that the boy would kill to gossip.

“oh hey y/n,” he greeted you with a tilt of his beer can, sunglasses perched upon his nose.

“hi,” you settled down next to him, your can of lemon soda forgotten as your lips quivered. “you look like you want to ask me something,” he chuckled, eyes scanning your face.

“you know me so well,” you smiled, twiddling your thumbs. “i can ask you anything right?”

“yeah, sure.”

“no repercussions?”

“no repercussions.”

with a sigh, you turned to face the leader as you took in a breath. “what happened in prague?”

seungcheol nearly choked on his drink, sputtering out flicks of the liquid as he stared at you with his eyes widened behind his shades.

“of everything you could have asked… why that?” he groaned, wiping his mouth. “come on,” you whined. “jihoon said it like it sounded so fun! i just wanna know!”

with a glance around to see if anyone was looking, the leader smiled and leaned in closer to you. “we swore we would never tell this to anyone but us… but you’re family too,” he began, voice merely above a whisper.

as seungcheol tattled on about the shenanigans that the idol group had been up to, you found yourself gasping. the wild story, the borderline illegality of it all— it was too much. you squeezed your thighs together when seungcheol skimmed past the details of the night they spent.

lee chan’s eyes followed the two of you, completely misinterpreting the situation. your shuffling thighs, masked giggles and wide eyes seemed like flirting to him as he clenched his jaw, downing his shot.

why were you making this so hard for him?

it was nearly 1 in the morning when you woke up in cold sweat.

your narrow room greeted you in a greyish hue, curtains pulled back to let the moonlight in. with a sigh, you resorted to calming down, taking deep breaths as you heard the waves crashing on shore. a slight buzzing noise filled your ears. it seemed to be coming from your door, but your mind could barely focus.

your dream had completely ruined your chances of sleep. a ticket to dreamland seemed impossible as seungcheol’s words floated in your head.

i’ve never seen dino go that feral on someone before… he was insatiable.

she squirted so hard when he was done, it was a huge mess. wonwoo’s glasses got drenched-

with a sigh, you take off your sleeping shorts and toss them to the side, fingers dipping down to your core.

your hole was slicked up, a sticky mess from your vivid imagination. your index finger prodded at your entrance, making you let out a sob.

your body was frustrated, in agony. you wanted to feel chan’s touch instead of your own hands, wanted to feel him buried inside you.

you let out another pained moan, pushing your first knuckle inside your fluttering walls. however, you fail to register the sounds you have been making, and that the buzzing from the outside had suddenly stopped.

you spread your legs wider, pumping your digits inside, letting out a hurt whimper. it would never be enough.

suddenly, the door to your shared bathroom opened with a slam, and a concerned chan appeared in your doorway. “are you okay—”

the sound of his voice egged you on further, hole gushing with a fresh serving of arousal. you all but sobbed at his direction, sex induced fog clouding your brain as your fingers fastened.

“chan,” you whimpered. in the doorway, with water drenched all over his face and a can of shaving cream in his hand, lee chan groaned at the sight in front him.

“help me…” you pleaded. “oh baby,” he growled, setting the can on the floor as he walked over to you. his hands parted your thighs even further, eyes examining the mess in between your legs.

with a sharp smack, he swatted your fingers away, licking his lips at the sight of your pussy.

morals be damned. soonyoung be damned.

“look at you,” his eyes stared into your hazed ones, a hand smacking your heat. the friction had your hips bucking.

“so soaked, hmm? what were you thinking of princess?” he bit his lip. “you… always thinking of you.”

“fuck,” he groaned, tilting his head back to compose himself. “y/n,” he sighed, one of his hands cupping your face.

you leaned into his touch, lips jutted out in a pout. “tell me you want this, and it’s not just something you’d forget. tell me you want me, and i’m all yours.”

with a smile, you turn aside to place a kiss on his palm. “i’ve never wanted something more in my life, lee chan.”

that seemed to be all the confirmation he needed as he flipped you over onto your stomach, slotting himself between your legs before he discarded his sweats on the floor.

“you have no idea how patient i have been,” he grunts, manhandling you to arch your back as your ass presses against his torso.

he dips his body down, face to face with your pussy. tantalizing, he licks a stripe up your folds, making your knees buckle on the mattress.

you try to look back to see him, but its impossible to move when his hands grab your ass cheeks, forcing his mouth back on you. dino’s chin brushes against your clit as he licks at your hole with a groan.

“so wet for me already, bet i could just slide in and you’d take it.”

you can only moan his name in return, clutching the bedsheets as he ate it from the back. his tongue fucks into your folds, lapping at the arousal that drips out of you in copious amounts.

“f-fuck channie! i’m—”

before you can finish, chan is moving away from your heat. the sudden lack of his mouth has you moaning and whining like a brat.

“easy doll, i don’t want you to cum on my face right now,” he pats your ass, flipping you over to your back as you finally get a view of him.

his slick covered face dips down to meet your lips. the kiss is searing and filthy as you taste yourself on his tongue.

your hands reach for his hair, pulling him impossibly close as you suck on his tongue. using your neediness as a distraction, he quickly angles his hips and pushes his tip past your folds.

“shit!” you cuss, gasping and pulling away. in the heat of the moment, you never actually registered how obnoxiously big chan’s cock was.

as you look down to where your bodies meet, your eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets. his fat tip exerts an experimental thrust, and the sheer stretch of his head has you whining.

“shh baby, it’s okay,” he assures you, pressing small kisses along the column of your throat. “just breathe for me?”

you inhale slowly, allowing your tense body to relax and adjust to him. dino’s attempts at distracting you do not go futile as you feel his fingers pinching your nipples. the pain in your chest makes the ache between your legs lose all meaning.

steadily, he pushes himself inside you, inch by inch entering your welcoming walls that spasm around him. when he finally bottoms out, you feel him in your gut.

this was the fullest you had ever felt. chan’s mouth licks the sweat around your breast, savouring in the salty taste.

his arms rest on either side of your head, making you relish the view. when he finally looks up, you pull him in for a kiss.

its sloppy, and his teeth clash into yours, but you could not care less. your pussy clenches around him as you pull away, nodding feverishly. “chan… if you don’t fuck me right now, i might die— hah!”

one languid thrust into you has your eyes rolling to the back of your head. his metal chain dangles on your chin, the coolness contrasting the heat that squelches down there.

chan takes full advantage of his dancer body as he pistons his hips into you. the stretch has you reeling, nails clawing down his broad back as his body leans into you.

dino’s lips find the spot on your neck, licking and sucking till red and purple bloom on your skin. his matted hair sticks to his forehead, as you turn your head to the side— the visuals becoming too much for you to handle.

you’re met with his forearm in your sight, fingers tightly gripping the bedsheets.

without a second thought, you lean forward and bit his skin, making him groan out as his cock twitches inside you.

“fu- you’re killing me baby,” he smirked, licking his lips as he forces you to look at him.

the brute force of his thrusts has your body thrashing, legs shaking with pleasure.

“feels so good channie!” you hiccup, mind cloud. the only thing you could think of was lee chan and his oh so perfect dick that was ravaging your insides.

when chan looks down, his eyes roll to the back of his head. he could see the outline of himself in your stomach, prodding out with every thrust.

a creamy and frothy ring lined the base of his cock, a testament to how your greedy cunt was sucking him in. your warm walls squeezed hard around him when one of his hands dropped down to press the bulge on your stomach.

“feel me in there, don’t ya?” he babbled, hips faltering at your vicious grip. “y-yes!” you cried out, feeling your stomach contracting.

with a loud growl, chan’s lips rest upon yours. “you close baby? can feel your greedy little cunt crying f’me,” he mumbled, licking your bottom lip.

your pathetic nods made him remove his hand from your stomach and find your clit instead, circling the bud as you mewled.

“cum for me baby, show me how much you needed this cock in you,” his eyes fluttered shut, forehead falling against yours.

“i’m cu— oh fuck,” you whimpered, suddenly feeling your orgasm rip through your body. your pussy clamped down on him, gripping his length like a fleshlight.

dino moaned in your ear about how good you felt, thrusts turning sloppy as he pressed kisses on your earlobe.

he continued to move inside you, drawing out your orgasm as he chased after his. overstimulation had tears spilling from your eyes, clawing at his pecs as you sobbed. “ ‘s too much channie! hurts!”

“just a little more baby, clench round me like that aga— FUCK!” he lost himself in you, feeling your walls clamp down on his cock, milking him for all his worth as his orgasm washed over him.

in a desperate attempt, chan’s thrusts turned erratic as he pumped his load inside you. “s-so good,” he whimpered, hips stilling inside you as he softened. you groaned at the warmth, shutting your eyes in ecstasy.

you both were panting, bodies entwined in a soft caress. time seemed to still when lee chan looked into your eyes again, smiling like a lovesick puppy when you kissed him.

your mouth whined pathetically when he pulled out, falling to your side as he sighed. wanting to be close to him, you shuffled near him.

your fingers dropped down to your pussy as you tried to plug his cum inside you, moaning at the sensation of being so incredibly full and warm.

“that was… the best sex i’ve ever had, sheesh,” dino wrapped an arm around you, pulling you impossibly close.

you brought your hand up to place on his sweaty chest, giggling as he kissed the top of your head. “better than prague?” you teased.

lee chan’s pecs tensed under your hold, as his eyes widened, staring at you in the dark. “what— who told you about that!” he exclaimed, ears dusted pink.

“seungcheol’s very easy to gossip with,” you winked, staring up at his pretty face. “wow… i can’t believe this hyung,” he grumbled, hearing you laugh.

“hey! this only happened because i was thinking about everything you did to that poor girl,” you smacked his muscle, hearing him wince. “why were you so feral that night, lee chan?” you voiced your question out loud.

he sucked in a breath as his grip tightened around your shoulder. “you really want to know?”

“i’m dying from curiosity,” you mused. with a sigh, chan turned his head to face you fully, meeting your eyes in the moonlight, before he whispered out an answer.

“she had the same name as you.”

387 notes · View notes

writeonwhiskey · 12 days

Text

the skz house: ch 17

a/n: thank you to @bahablastplz for editing. check out her writing if you haven't already! she's amazing.

Summary: Welcome to Sigma Kappa Zeta, the most popular fraternity on campus. When you, down on your luck and looking for a place to live, see their ad for ‘IN-HOUSE STAY’. You're one of the four girls chosen and find that your duties for the rest of the school year will be cooking, cleaning, and pleasing your assigned house members: Hyunjin & Chan.

[ read chapter sixteen here ]

Chapter Seventeen: Of Futures & Flights

Lee Know was right—your least favorite string of words in the English language. Hyunjin will be going to Korea for winter break and now your only option is to see what Chan has planned. You knock on the door to his room before entering. He’s sitting at his desk, laptop in front of him. He turns to face you as you enter. A hint of a smile tugs at his lips when he sees you and you immediately feel your face flush.

“Hey,” you say meekly.

Lately with just one look from him you’re overcome with flashbacks of being handcuffed to his bed. And he knows it. It hadn’t been awkward or uncomfortable in the days that followed, but he certainly was finding a lot of joy in catching your eye from across the room and winking or smirking. He always got a kick out of your reaction.

“Hey,” he replies smoothly.

You walk over to your bed and sit on the edge, facing him.

“I wanted to ask about your plan for winter break,” you cut straight to the chase. “Are you going to visit your family?”

“Maybe. Why?” he asks, crossing his hands in front of his chest as he leans back in the chair. “Got a more tempting suggestion?”

Of course, he must already have some idea why you’re here. Lee Know or Hyunjin could have mentioned it. But he wants to hear you ask anyways.

“I want to use the trip I won around that time and Hyunjin is going home, so…”

“So…I’m your backup?”

“N-No,” you stutter. Though you can’t deny how it must come off from his point of view.

“Hmmm,” he hums, not taking his eyes off you. “Where you planning to go?”

“I was thinking somewhere warm, like Miami. I’ve never been.”

“And you actually want me to go with you?” he asks, arching an eyebrow. “You could take one of the other members.”

Is he suggesting that you should choose someone else? That he doesn’t want to go with you? He does so damn well at playing serious when he’s messing with you, you can never tell.

“I’d prefer to spend it with you…”

“Since Hyunjin isn’t available?”

“Chan.” you sigh.

He chuckles at your exasperation and gives up.

“I’ll go.”

You wish you had something nearby on the bed to hit him with. Internally you’re jumping for joy.

The next day, you’re in the kitchen with plastic gloves on your hands. Hyunjin’s long body is laying on the marble countertop, feet hanging off the edge, head over the sink with a folded towel under his neck for support. He has hands clasped in the center of his chest. A bottle of black hair dye sits next to the faucet as you work your fingers through his newly darkened locs to rinse it out.

You keep turning your head to the side as you work, trying to fully picture him with dark hair as you’ve only ever seen him as a bleached blonde. The darker strands definitely look more natural on him and enhance his features.

It’s finals week and you’ve decided to take a break from reading to help Hyunjin out. The house has been relatively calm lately as everyone cracks down on studying. Some go at it alone, others pair up to quiz each other.

“Would your parents really lose their shit if you came home with blonde hair?” you ask, turning the water off when the black dye has finally stopped dripping.

“Yeah ,” he replies. “And that’s an understatement. My dad would behead me, then drag my headless body around before letting me show up at company events like that. It’s ‘unprofessional’,” he says, using air quotes.

He jokes about it so casually, but it makes you wonder what their parents are like. It’s so different to the supportive upbringing you had. Well, it is supportive in a way—their parents are doing what they believe is best for their child’s future. It just seems like it doesn’t leave room for them to be themselves once they return home.

You know, from talking to Han, the general idea of what’s expected of them after graduation. You previously assumed, though, that just meant a continued sexual relationship was off the table. After what Lee Know said, you now understand that you are forbidden to have contact with them at all.

As you’ve grown more curious about it, Hyunjin has been rather receptive of your prying questions. When you asked why he was so open, he mentioned the NDA in that cursed contract you skim read through in desperation all those weeks ago.

“So do you immediately start working after you graduate?” you ask, taking off the plastic gloves and setting them aside.

“Not straight away. There will be a few months spent doing whatever I want…traveling, probably. Then I’ll work directly under my father. Essentially until he’s ready to retire or trusts that I won’t fuck up the family business.”

This feels like such a heavy topic, but Hyunjin grazes over it with ease. Like it’s not a big deal. From his perspective, maybe it isn’t. He’s known the path his life would take since he was very young. They all do. There isn’t much to guess or worry about like most of us. Hell, it doesn’t seem like they get to choose much of anything for themselves. Your thoughts drift to Chan for a second as you wring the water out from Hyunjin’s hair.

You take the towel from under his head and guide him to sit up so you can dry it.

“And when it comes to love and marriage and children and all that…what sort of freedom do you have?”

Hyunjin makes a face like he’s going to throw up at your words. You roll your eyes and throw one end of the towel at him, so it covers his dramatic face.

“Come upstairs,” you say as you walk out of the kitchen.

When you’re both back in his room, after he stopped to grab his blow dryer, you have him sit in his desk chair. You stand behind him, combing your fingers through his hair.

“So…marriage, love? What’s that look like for you guys?” you ask again.

“At some point I’ll be encouraged to date, then marry. Exclusively from a list of women vetted by my parents,” he tells you.

You chew on your bottom lip; thankful he’s not looking directly at you. From your perspective, it all sounds concerning the more you learn, but you know it’s not your place to speak on it. What is there for you to even say? They’ve probably all already come to terms with it. Would your opinion even matter? In the grand scheme of things, you living with them this year is just a blip on their radar.

“Like an arranged marriage?”

“Kinda,” he says nonchalantly. “I will have some say in it, though.”

You turn on the blow dryer, using it as a distraction to sort through the thoughts arising from the information he provided.

Hyunjin previously mentioned the main function of the SKZ house was to provide them the ability to focus on their studies without allowing love and romance to distract them. Having a dedicated girl each year to meet their needs…to take care of them in more ways than one. It’s almost like this is a trial run for their futures. Though, from the sounds of it, the women vetted by their parents will probably also come from wealthy families and possess the feminine qualities they desire in a daughter-in-law. Certainly no one like you.

You grew up fairly well–your mom and dad played active roles in your upbringing. They were able to dote on you as an only child and you don’t recall ever wanting for much. You weren’t poor, but nowhere near the level of wealth their families have amassed. They supported you with all they had and there was never much fuss or drama. You’ve always been a good kid with your head on straight–focused on your own dreams and goals.

Having gotten to know Hyunjin the past couple of months, you know one day he will make an amazing husband. He’s gentle when needed, thoughtful, caring and extremely empathetic, while still maintaining his masculinity. Which makes him even more attractive. Chan, on the other hand…

You feel a sharp pain in your chest–maybe Chan is holding back with you because he’s saving himself or really only willing to open up to his future wife. That hurts to think about.

You turn the blow dryer off and sit it on the desk. Hyunjin reaches out for your hand and pulls you around the front of the chair. You sit on his lap, straddling him and cupping his face with your hands.

You take in his new appearance. His blow-dried hair looks full and fluffy, and it’s grown a lot in length, reaching beneath his collar bones. The dark hair looks good on him—it gives meaning to the ‘tall, dark and handsome’ trope.

“What happens if you don’t like anyone on the list?”

“They’ll compile another one,” he shrugs.

“That seems unfair,” you reply. “What if you meet someone organically and fall in love?”

“I could date them,” he says, hands sliding up your thighs to rest on your hips. “But nothing would come of it.”

“And that doesn’t bother you?”

He considers the question for a beat.

“Not in the way you might think,” he replies.

“Well, I think anyone would be right to be bothered at having so little say in the outcome of their life…”

“I don’t mind that aspect of it. Being on this path ensures I will live a good life,” he says matter-of-factly.

“What’s your take on it, then?” you ask, making note that he said good life and not happy.

“I’ve never been fond of the ‘forever partner’ idea.”

You lean back a little, sliding your hands down to his shoulders. You’re a little surprised at his words. The kind, caring and doting Hyunjin? Does not believe in soulmates?

“I have no problem being committed and dedicated to one woman at a time, but…forever?” he asks rhetorically. “I think we’re meant to connect on a deep level with a lot of people at different times in our lives. Do you know how many people there are on this planet? And I’m supposed to find a lifelong match from a list? To meet all my needs, even as they change over time?”

You can completely understand, and have experienced, his commitment and loyalty in the way he immediately opened up to you and was there for you. But maybe this experience has made him grow accustomed to having a new woman in his life every year.

“New people make things exciting and fresh,” he continues as he slips his thumbs beneath the hem of your shirt, rubbing circles against your skin, “…how you meet, learning about them, being intimate with them.”

You had never taken him for the playboy type. Though the way he’s explaining it doesn’t sound like he will be running around trying to fuck anything that walks. Just that he’d prefer to entertain the idea of a woman without any real commitment for certain stretches of time, for the rest of his life.

“So you worry you’ll become bored?” you ask.

“Maybe,” he answers honestly, as always. “I don’t doubt my ability to remain faithful—to be a good dad and husband when the time comes. But I do want to take my time getting there. I’m in no rush. Maybe in 30 years or so.”

You roll your eyes at that.

“I cannot with you,” you say, reaching your hands up to run them through his newly darkened locs. You tug on the strands, and he tilts his head back, shutting his eyes.

His hands fall from your hips to cup your ass. In one swift move he stands, holding you to him as he walks towards the bed. You rest your forehead against his, and nuzzle his nose.

“Well. I certainly can with you.” He gives your lips a peck with his before tossing you onto the bed.

You squeal as you land, then start moving backwards on the bed. You can’t help but smile and giggle as he crawls towards you. His dark, fluffy hair falls in front of his eyes and he looks so fucking sexy as he looks down at you.

“Where you going, jagiya?” He asks, straightening his back but still on his knees. He reaches for your leg. “Two weeks without you? We have to make up for the time we’re losing.”

You let out another squeal as he grabs your leg and pulls you towards him. He places his arms on either side of you, caging you in, in the best way possible. You hook your arms around his neck and pull him down towards you.

After finals are done, it feels like there’s less tension in the house. Everyone’s interacting again versus being huddled up in a corner studying. The house steadily becomes empty as those who are going away for break take their leave. You drop Hyunjin at the airport and try not to think of what it will be like when you have to say goodbye to him for good.

Soon enough, it’s your turn to get dropped off at the airport. Jeongin and Charlotte wave goodbye to you and Chan. They’ll both have the house alone until Jeongin leaves for Korea and you can only imagine what they’ll get up to. You make a mental note to sanitize every communal surface when you get back.

In the airport, you and Chan barely speak. He has his headphones on and keeps a blank expression plastered to his face. The last couple days his mood seemed to turn sour, and you have no idea what caused it. You have an uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach–this is exactly how you did not want to spend the trip.

You busy yourself with checking the destination on your ticket multiple times. With Lee Know in charge of organizing this trip, you couldn’t be sure enough that he hadn’t booked you a flight to Miami, Oklahoma instead of Miami, Florida.

A few hours later, you and Chan are settled into your business class seats. A few minutes after takeoff, you finally release his hand you’d been clutching for dear life.

“Sorry,” you apologize, watching him stretch his fingers out.

He reclines his seat a bit and shifts around to get comfortable. He leans back in the seat and closes his eyes. You lift the window shade and look out at the clouds as you fly through them, trying your best to tame your annoyance.

You don’t know how long passes, but being an overthinker you’ve gone through several scenarios and outcomes about how this trip could crash and burn if you don’t say something now. You can’t just let his silence go unchecked. You refuse to spend your vacation, that he agreed to come on, this way. You reach over to move his headphones from his right ear.

“Chan,” you begin, “I haven’t had a real vacation, alone and not with my parents, in almost two years so I’m really looking forward to this, but…”

He’s absentmindedly chewing on his bottom lip as he listens.

“You’ve been in a shitty mood the last couple days. I want this to be a good trip, I want us to have fun…if you were planning to be miserable, you really didn’t have to come.”

“Planning to be miserable?” He repeats.

“Your sudden change in attitude?” You shrug. “I would have rather rescheduled the trip, if you were going to be like this. And don’t say like what—you know how you’re treating me.”

He becomes quiet at your words. You feel proud of yourself for getting them out. There’s no way he doesn’t realize when he’s shutting you out. You look away from him, seeing the stewardess start coming down the aisle with her cart.

“I’m sorry,” he finally says. “I wanna take this trip with you, y/n, I just have a lot on my mind right now.”

“You always say that,” you shake your head.

“That doesn’t mean it’s not true,” he replies.

You let out a soft sigh.

“Well, isn’t that what vacations are for?” you ask. “You can travel somewhere far away and leave all the bullshit behind. Forget about school…the future,” you look away from him at that, “you can be someone entirely different when you get to your destination. For a little while, anyway.”

He mulls your words over.

“Is that what we’re doing?” He pulls his headphones down, so they hang around his neck.

It certainly hadn’t been your intention, but you spot the sudden playful glint in his eyes and nod your head. You want to smack him. Or yourself. You cannot figure out if it’s him and his bad mood that causes the tension, or you allowing him to sulk in it instead of confronting him about it.

“And who are we pretending to be?”

You shrug, “Hadn’t thought that far ahead.”

The stewardess stops next to him with her cart, smiling as she opens the cabinet and produces two champagne flutes. She then fills them up with wine. She hasn’t even asked your drink choice, so you assume she’s preparing it for the pair across the aisle. When she politely reaches over Chan to pull out your tray and sits the drink down, you throw a confused look at him.

Maybe it’s complimentary…but still, wouldn’t she ask if you wanted it?

“I’m sorry,” you finally speak up. “We didn’t ordered this…could I just get a Sprite?”

“Oh, of course, dear,” she says, but still proceeds to pull out Chan’s tray and sits a drink in front of him too. “These drinks are free to you, on behalf of the flight crew. Congratulations on your engagement–future Mr. and Mrs. Bang.”

You stare and blink, dumbfounded.

Chan clicks his tongue and mutters something in Korean under his breath.

“Thank you,” he says with a tight-lipped smile.

“My pleasure,” she replies. “What else can I get you, sir?”

“Water, please,” he tells her.

She provides you both a cup filled with ice, and your requested Sprite and water before turning to assist the pair on the other side of the aisle.

“I’m gonna fucking strangle Lee Know,” you say through gritted teeth.

“Oh, he’s the first call I’m making when we land,” he concurs.

The man can’t even be trusted to book flight tickets without some kind of shenanigans attached to it.

Chan picks up his wine glass and sighs, but there’s a hint of a smile on his face.

“I guess we have our roles,” he says, tilting the rim of his glass towards you.

You grab your own, but don’t cheers his yet.

“I don’t know…I was thinking more along the lines of coworkers on a business trip or annoying vloggers or something like that,” you tell him.

“So you wanna call off the engagement already?” He asks, feigning a hurt look.

It never ceases to baffle you–how quickly he can go from cold and distant to warm and teasing you. And vice versa.

“You’re okay with pretending to be my fiancé?”

He shrugs, “It could be fun. It’ll help take my mind off some things.”

“Really?”

“I’m a committed actor. Very convincing…don’t you remember?”

Of course you remember his stint as Professor Bang. You wouldn’t mind taking a class with him again. But this? Chan pretending to be your fiancé? After your talk with Hyunjin, you know you won’t ever know what it’s like to actually even date him. Let alone fathom marrying him.

“Okay,” you reply, choosing to indulge. You tap your glass against his before taking a drink.

You’re so happy that the dark cloud looming over him seems to have dissipated, that it doesn’t even cross your mind how much you might regret this later. Having a sample of this version of Chan? It’s like you’re setting yourself up to get hurt. But you’ll keep telling yourself you’re strong enough to remember it’s not real. That when the time comes to say goodbye to this man, you won’t think about these moments and what could have been. You’ll keep lying to yourself this entire trip.

a/n: the chan we've been dying to experience is almost here. thank you all so much for your continued support. your feedback, comments, asks, reblogs, etc., ALL your interactions fill my heart with happiness. it encourages me to write more because i don't want to leave you all hanging for too long lol but seriously, tysm!

taglist: i have no idea why it's not letting me tag everyone. i know there's a limit of tags per post but even if i type less than the limit, it's not working :( tagging on hiatus til I can figure it out, i'm sorry.

#stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids #bang chan #the skz house #bang chan imagines #hyunjin #hyunjin imagines #bang chan fanfic #hyunjin fanfic #skz smut

254 notes · View notes

thetriumphantpanda · 7 months

Text

I'll Crawl Home To Her | Marcus Pike

Fic Summary | Marcus Pike had been the man of your dreams until a promotion tore your away from him. Four years later, a wedding brings you back together, but it the bubble you've built over this one weekend going to crash and burn just like it did before?

Pairing | Marcus Pike x Bridesmaid F!Reader

Fic Warnings | Explicit. Exes to Lovers, themes of second chance love, references to food and alcohol, descriptions of a wedding, Marcus Pike being a dirty talking menace, talk of contraception, unprotected PiV sex, creampie, semi-public sex, oral sex (F), overstimulation if you squint, allusions to oral sex (M) and mentions of a facial cumshot, mutual pining, flirting, two idiots in love, a touch of angst, basically two idiots who never got over each other have a lot of sex over a weekend.

Word Count | 7.9K (I can only apologise lmfao)

Authors Note | So, two weekends ago I was a bridesmaid and spent the entire time messaging @undercoverpena about how I wished Marcus Pike would whisk me away to the bathroom, tell me how pretty I was and give me a good time.... and this is what's come of this. Entirely self-indulgent but we love that for me sometimes. If you enjoy this, please consider commenting or reblogging - I'd love to know what you think of it! And if you'd like to support me further, you can donate to my Ko-Fi.

Moodboard is for aesthetic purposes only - reader is a blank slate. Although if you're interested in the dress I chose for her - it's this.

Divider by the amazing @saradika

Please follow @thetriumphantpandanotifs for writing updates.

Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi.

“I’m sorry, Mike,” Marcus is still out of breath as he clutches the champagne flute in his hand, chest heaving as his sucks in air to his lungs, “I didn’t mean to be so late.”

“Marcus, buddy, it’s fine,” His friend puts a reassuring hand on his shoulder, he knows Marcus gets anxious when things outside of his control happen, like the delay to his flight from D.C. to London, and then the delay in getting from London to the wedding venue, “You’re here now, that’s all that matters.”

Marcus nods, chugging down half the champagne in one go, hoping it’ll calm his anxiety a little. He had cursed Mike and Cassie for choosing to have their wedding in England, but Mike’s family, most of them ageing now and unable to make the long trip to D.C. had insisted on it. As he looks around the large reception room, he muses internally to himself that it was beautiful. A huge room, semi-decorated for tomorrow’s reception and dinner. It’s a smaller affair tonight, immediate family and friends for the rehearsal dinner, but he can imagine that tomorrow, once all is said and done, it’ll be the perfect backdrop for their wedding.

“Where’s Cassie?” Marcus asks, looking around the room, finding a distinct lack of the bride and the bridal party Mike hadn’t shut up about over the last few months.

“She’s just sorting the last of the decorations for the ceremony room,” Mike explains, waving a hand to the waitress currently doing the round with a refilled tray of champagne, “She’ll be here soon.” He finished with a wink, which, although is odd, Marcus doesn’t question, just picks up another glass of champagne and stands talking to his friend and whoever is milling around offering their congratulations.

There’s a flurry of conversation that has Marcus turning around a few minutes later, he can see Cassie and her mother, who are pulled to the side by someone from the venue holding up two different types of ribbon, asking which one they want to drape around the columns and which one to tie around the chair backs. It’s not Cassie that Marcus is interested in though, it’s the bridesmaid that follows behind her.

He can feel his throat constrict, a small pit opening in his stomach that’s somewhere between the feeling of dread and excitement. He can feel the palms of his hands starting to get clammy, so he drains his glass and sets it down on the nearest table to avoid an accident. Then, he thinks he might actually pass out when you finally look at him, eyes searching his face and then the glimmer of recognition that you know exactly who he is, remember exactly the last time you’d seen him, and exactly what had happened when you had.

Your leg is bouncing underneath the dining table, food somewhat eaten regardless of the fact that it’s your favourite. You’ve dug half-moon shapes into the palms of your hands and bitten the inside of your mouth enough to taste blood.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” It’s Marcus, sitting across from you, plate cleared, completely oblivious as to what’s about to come.

“I got offered a promotion.” You tell him simply, running one hand up and down your opposite arm in an attempt to soothe yourself.

“Darling!” He exclaims, “That’s amazing!” He doesn’t move to get up, but reaches his hand out, palm up for you to take, which you do, letting his hand softly clasp yours in his own, “Why are you so upset then?”

Taking a deep breath in, biting your bottom lip, you decide it’s best to rip the band-aid off sooner rather than later, “It’s not here, Marcus,” You sigh, “The job is in D.C.”

The smile, the light of his eyes, everything on his face that had just seconds ago been showing joy, had faltered. Much like you imagine your face would have when you’d been offered the job. A significant pay rise, governmental opportunities, bigger clients, a shot at being a proper lawyer for once, but with the caveat that you had to uproot your comfortable Austin life for D.C. and with it, Marcus Pike.

“I don’t have to go,” You follow up with, “I haven’t accepted yet, I’ve got some time to think.”

You feel him squeeze your hand, his other palm coming out to rest on your wrist, slowly tracing the blue veins he can see there, “Look at me,” He asks softly, which you do, the tears that had been forming in your own eyes starting to spill down your cheeks when you find Marcus’ eyes glassed over too, “Baby, this is such an amazing opportunity, you can’t say no because of me.”

Because that’s what you would be doing. Marcus, brilliant, funny, intelligent Marcus, wouldn’t be able to follow you to D.C. There had been some talk about his work in the Art Crimes team with the higher ups, people who were impressed at his success rate, people who wanted to keep him here, send him off to California even. He was at too much of a crossroads to be able to follow you to D.C.

“I don’t want to lose you though,” You sniff, free hand coming to wipe away some of the tears that are falling from your eyes, “I love you.”

Marcus hums, finally pushes himself off his chair, letting the legs scrape across his kitchen floor, until he’s sat right in front of you, knees touching, his palms on the tops of your thighs, warm and soothing, “I love you too,” He says, bringing one hand up to cup your cheek, making sure you’re looking at him, “But this is what you’ve wanted, you’ve been working so hard baby and I’m not going to let you stay here just because of me.”

It’s killing you inside, because you want so badly to ask him to follow you. To drop everything and come to D.C. You’ve been together two years, you’re comfortable together, he makes you so happy, you’ve talked about moving in together, starting a life together, but you know deep down you’re asking him to do something unfair.

“So, I guess your stance on long-distance relationships hasn’t changed?” You ask, tone soft and sad, tears falling down your cheeks.

You watch him as his own tears fall, his hands clutching your own so tightly as he gives you a soft smile, “Baby, I wish I could say yes, I wish I could drop it all and follow you, or promise you we’d talk on the phone every day and see each other every weekend, but you know we can’t do it.”

Biting at your lip, you nod, because you know he’s right. You’re a lawyer, you barely have free time as it is - weekends more often than not spent sat on the couch with him, tapping away at your laptop whilst he looks over case files. It would never work.

Marcus leans forward, presses a kiss to your forehead, then pulls you into a hug. You clutch your hands to his back, inhaling the smell of him on his shirt , watching the light blue turn darker as it catches your tears.

“When do you go?” He asks quietly into the crook of your neck, soft kiss placed to the skin right after.

“A few weeks, probably.”

“Well, let’s enjoy them while we still can, hey?” You nod silently, “And maybe one day, we’ll find each other again.”

“And maybe one day, we’ll find each other again.”

Those words still echo in your ears four year later, like they have at various different points since you last saw Marcus Pike. Leaving had been hard. He’d helped you pack everything up, driven you to the airport, kissed you before security and promised he wouldn’t forget you. You’d text a for a few weeks before life dragged you in one direction and him in another. No-one had quite been able to live up to him either. Sure, you’d tried dating, seen people for a few months before deciding they weren’t quite the man who had almost been able to give you everything you ever wanted.

And now here he is, standing in front of you, pale as a ghost as if he’s about to keel over and have a heart attack. You want to run to him, to fling yourself into his arms and make sure he’s real. You want to press your lips to his, let him kiss you like he always used to, to clutch you to his body and whisper sweet things into your ear, but you have no idea what he’s been doing these past four years - for all you know, you could get closer and find a wedding band across his left finger.

It’s a blessing when Cassie’s hand wraps around your wrist and pulls you over to the side.

“Do you prefer the dusky rose or the blush pink?” She asks, holding up two ribbons that look identical to your eye.

You want to tell her does it really matter, they both look exactly the same. You want to tear your wrist away from her and go to Marcus, but instead you settle for a warm smile and “It’s your wedding Cass, you choose what you want.”

And when you turn around, looking back over to Mike, Marcus Pike is nowhere to be found. Like he was a mirage. A figment of your hopeful imagination. Something conjured up after your mother had set you down at the airport and said, “Bridesmaid’s always get lucky at weddings, you might find your own husband.”

When everyone is called to sit down for the rehearsal dinner, you jump at the opportunity to let Cassie sit down and eat, whilst you get pulled away by the staff to advise on which candles to use for the ceremony room and where exactly to place the flower arch for the best photos tomorrow. When you make it back, everyone is standing, milling around, getting drinks from the bar, which you decide you desperately need.

“A negroni, please.” You ask for after taking a few seconds to peruse the cocktail menu set out. The stronger the better.

“I see your tastes haven’t changed in the last few years.”

You’re pretty sure that if there was a mirror in front of you, the look of shock on your face would be comical, as Marcus Pike sidles up to the bar next to you. Up close, he’s just as handsome as he always had been, except now, he’s got a beard and more fine lines in the corners of his eyes, which means he’s been happy, smiling, whilst you’ve been gone. It makes your heart swell that he’s been happy.

“I wonder if yours have.” You counter, tilting your head towards the bartender who is waiting for him to order.

“Just a beer for now.” He smiles, but at you, not the bartender.

“That’ll be a no then.”

There’s a moment of silence between the both of you as you sip the cocktail given to you, and Marcus takes a swig of his beer. His left hand is wrapped around the bottle, no sign of the wedding ring you were convinced you’d find. You want to say something, anything, but when you go to open your mouth, he beats you to it.

“You look well.”

You can’t help but chuckle. Of all the things he could have chosen to say to you, you hadn't thought it would be that.

“So do you.” You compliment back.

There’s another silence, the two of you just looking at each other. You’re soaking him up, committing him to memory to replace the old Marcus you knew so well.

“Are you here alone?” You ask, playing with the glass in your hand.

You watch as he runs his tongue over his bottom lip, “Are you?”

“I asked you first, Agent Pike.”

He tilts his head towards his shoulder in a movement that says he’ll give you that one, “I’m here alone.”

You can’t help but smile a little, biting at your bottom lip to try and hide how pleased you are, “So am I.”

Looking up at him through your lashes, you notice the exact moment those brown eyes that you’re so used to getting lost in darken, watching you as you sip your drink, tip of your tongue jutting out to catch a drop from your bottom lip.

“Is your room completely over the top?” You ask, watching as he swallows deeply, “Because mine is, I’d love to know what the honeymoon suite must be like.”

“Depends what you mean by completely over the top?” He quirks an eyebrow.

“Do you want me to show you?”

He doesn’t even respond. He sets his half-finished beer down on the bar, takes your almost-empty negroni from your hand and does the same. Then he’s taking hold of your hand, lacing your fingers together like he always did, dragging you out of the room. You turn to find Cassie and Mike, looking at you both as you have to jog to keep up with Marcus’ pace. Both of them are winking, smiling, and Mike even throws a thumbs up your way. You can feel heat rising on your cheeks as you turn your head away from them.

“Which floor?” Marcus asks then you reach the grand staircase in the lobby.

“Second.”

He doesn’t let go of your hand, but takes the stairs two at a time, meaning by the time you reach the second floor, you’re out of breath from running behind him, trying to keep up.

“Which room?”

It’s your turn to lead him now, stepping in front of him to walk down the hallway to room 212. You fish the keycard from the back pocket of your jeans, wasting no time in pushing the door open when the tiny light turns green.

It’s dark inside, but you don’t care. Marcus Pike pins you against the wall, his thigh between your legs, both hands on your waist, and then his lips are on yours. The way he kisses hasn’t changed a bit. His mouth slants over yours, softly at first, but when you open your lips against his, hands clutching at the collar of his shirt, it’s just like you remember from all those years ago. He tastes the same, mint from the gum he always chews, the tang of the beer on his tongue, and that distinct taste that’s just him.

He swallows a groan from you as your pitch your hips down, denim rubbing on denim as he devours your mouth. His hands on your waist trail down just a little, finding the top of your jeans, floating under your shirt just a little to touch the bare skin underneath. His hands are warm and strong as they start guiding you to move against his thigh as his tongue works against yours.

Marcus pulls away from your mouth just as a particularly breathy moan leaves your mouth. It makes you both stop. Stand still. Eyes adjusting to the darkness of the room as you both realise exactly what’s happening. You know you should stop, talk about what’s clearly about to happen, but when did talking ever help anything.

“Don’t think about it,” Marcus sighs, leaning down to trail kisses along your jaw, “We talk after.”

“We talk after.” You say, mainly to the room more than anything else.

Your hands are still clutching at his shirt when his fingers find the button on your jeans. Still as adept at it as he’d always been, he pops the button open and pulls down the zipper, letting his hand trail down, settling across the lace of your underwear, cupping your pussy, letting his fingers trace along skin through lace.

A hiss leaves your mouth as you work your body in time with the slow, teasing movements of Marcus’ hand, “You’ve changed,” You manage to breathe out, your hand coming to the back of his neck to pull his mouth nearer to yours, “When you were desperate for me you’d never tease.”

You can feel his lips smile against the skin of your neck where he’s tracing wet kisses along the skin, hand still feather-light between your legs, “I’ve learnt to be more patient, honey.”

“And if I asked you not to?”

“In all the years I knew you, never once did you beg for it.” He pulls back, your eyes now accustomed to the dark, able to see him better, his voice is low, “Unless you’ve changed, you’ll have to put up with it.”

You grasp his cheeks in your palms, his hand still teasing you, pull his attention to you fully, “Marcus Pike, I swear to all that is holy that if you do not spread me out on my bed and fuck me in the next five minutes, I will die.”

He makes a ‘tsk’ sound, his head shaking in your hands, “That’s not begging for it honey,” He coos, “You gotta ask nicely for it.”

You let out a grumble of frustration, but you have to admit, this new version of the man you knew so well before is enticing. You can feel the way wetness is settling between your thighs, you’re sure if he dipped his fingers down he’d have some smart comment about how soaked you were for him already.

So you swallow your pride, you know it’ll be worth it in the end, “Please.”

“Good girl.”

It all happens in a flurry. One moment you’re against the wall, the next your back is against the mattress, Marcus’ hips pressed to yours as his hands work to push your shirt up and off your body. Your back hits the mattress again and his mouth is on you almost instantly, his lips trailing down your sternum, between the valley of your breasts. Pushing himself back on his knees, he brings his hands to the cups of your bra, pulling them down. Your nipples pebbling against the cold of the air.

His lips are back on you almost immediately, nipple enveloped into the warmth of his mouth, tip of his tongue flicking at it, making your back arch off the bed, pressing further into his mouth. Your hand comes to tangle in the curls at the back of his head, anchoring him to your body. As his mouth works across your chest, you can’t quite believe what’s happening to you. The man of your dreams, the person you always thought you were destined for, back, right here between your thighs, the bulge in the front of his jeans all too familiar to you.

Head tipped back in pleasure, you breathe out into the air, “I can’t believe you’re here.”

He tears off your breast with a wet pop, looking up at you through his lashes, mouth kissing down your body, across the soft of your tummy, he taps at your sides, lifting your hips up to drag your jeans and underwear down your legs, flung behind him and forgotten when you plant the flat of your feet onto the bed and let your knees fall open.

Marcus isn’t a religious man, he never has been, but knelt between your thighs, hands flying to rid himself of his clothes, watching as you gingerly trail your hand between your thighs, eyes on him as you play with your clit, he thinks he might have to start believing. As he stands to take the last of his clothes off, standing at the foot of the bed, naked with his cock in his hand, watching your face, he thanks the Lord for whatever mischief they had to concoct to get you back here with him.

He crawls back up your body, kissing from ankle to thigh, settling himself between your thighs, cock sliding through your slick folds as he lays his body down against yours, one of his hands slipping under your neck, cradling the back of your head, the other cupping your cheek, moving your face to look right into his eyes. He’s so fucking close to you, lips barely a hairs breadth from your own.

“I have to be inside you,” He pants against your mouth, “I promise I'll spend hours between your thighs later baby, but I have to be inside you.”

He doesn’t give you any time to respond, just shifts his hips a little, sinking himself into your aching cunt. You arch up into him, moaning against his mouth as he stills. The hand clutching at your cheek trails down your neck, thumb flicking against your nipple as it travels to rest on your hip.

“Stop squirming,” He pleads, “Please.. Just stay still a minute.”

He feels so right, nestled inside your pussy. The weight of his body pressed against yours takes you right back to all the nights before, locked away in his Austin apartment in the dead of night, making each other feel good, making promises at the height of your combined pleasure to each other that never materialised. You can feel tears settle in your eyes as he starts moving, pulling himself out of you slowly, pushing back in even slower.

Marcus leans down, kissing the salty tears from your cheeks, shushing you, “Don’t cry baby,” He whispers into your ear, “I’ve got you now.”

Your hands are clutching at his shoulders, nails digging small, half-moon shapes into his skin there. He feels just as incredible moving inside you as he always did, but there’s something settling in your tummy, the feeling that you knew so well with him, that you’ve only really known with yourself since.

“I can feel you baby,” Marcus groans into your ear as the thrusts of his cock get a little faster, a little harder, “Clenching all perfectly around me,” He takes hold of one of your wrists, dragging it between the both of you, resting it right where you need it, “I won’t last baby,” He admits, “Touch yourself and we’ll do it together?”

So you do, you rub tight, precise circles over your clit as Marcus pushes himself up, takes your thighs in his palms, pushing your legs back as far as he can. The change in angle makes you cry out as he really starts fucking you now. The only sounds in the room are the slapping of his skin against yours, your whimpers and his groans. You can feel the tightening coil across your abdomen, breath hitching in your throat, you’re so fucking close to coming undone on him.

“Marcus,” You whine, “I’m gonna-” You trail off as he shifts a little more, pressing your legs further back, cock hitting that unholy sweet spot inside you, “Gonna come.”

“Go on baby,” He encourages, “I’ll be right behind you.”

And that’s how it ends. Eyes shut so tightly you can feel tears pooling at the corners, cunt clenching around his cock as you cry out his name. It’s so familiar, the way it feels, the way he sounds, like no time has passed at all and you’re exactly the same as you’d both been four years ago. He’s pounding into you as your body convulses underneath, thighs shaking and toes curling as his hips start to stutter.

“Where?” He manages to choke out, his tone reminiscent of all those times before when he was holding on, teetering on the edge, wanting to know what you wanted.

“I’m s-safe,” You manage to choke out, head reeling from your own orgasm, “The pill.”

He doesn’t need to hear anymore, finally giving in, knowing you’ve fallen apart for him, he’s groaning your name into the dark, you can feel him spilling into you, claiming you, marking you as his own in a way only the two of you could ever understand. He lets go of your thighs, letting your legs drop back into comfort as he slowly drags himself from you, collapsing onto the bed next to you.

There’s a few moments of silence. Your arm is draped across your face, chest rising and falling as you try to suck in enough air to calm your breathing, Marcus doing the same across the bed. You roll over, putting yourself on your side so you can look at him. He’s led on his back, head turned to look at you in the dull light of the room - the moonlight through the window the only thing illuminating the two of you. He reaches out, traces your face with his hand.

“I can't believe you’re real.” He speaks softly, rolling over to face you, pulling your warm body to his.

“I know we said we’d talk after,” You whisper, hand trailing over his waist to rest across his back, “But can we just stay like this for a while?” It’s a soft plead, you don’t want to be reminded that this was probably a bad idea, you want to hold this man in front of you and forget that in a few short days it’ll all be over, he’ll go back to wherever he is now, and you’ll go back to D.C. lonelier than ever.

“I’ll stay here as long as you’ll let me, honey.”

Marcus, against his better judgement, stays with you all night. You don’t talk. You curl up into his side, settle against his body as he wraps his arms around you. It’s inevitable that he casts his mind back to how things used to be. To the history you share with each other. He still, to this day, hasn’t stopped thinking about you, about what would have been if you’d stayed. Would you be married? Probably, he thinks. He’d thought of it often towards the end, before your promotion. Stopped outside jewellery shops, tried to imagine which kind of ring you’d want – he’d even slipped one of your rings onto his own finger, figuring out where it stopped so he could pick the right size when the time came. Would you have children? He isn’t sure, neither of you had ever spoken about it, you’d never expressed a want to have them, but he’s certain if you’d have asked, he’d have given them to you.

He falls asleep, waking up hours later, darkness still pervading. He turns on his side, spooning his front to your back. You’re half-awake when you press yourself back into him, bring your hand up to clutch at his head as he slips inside you once more, his hand holding your thigh up. He breathes into your ear, whispers filth to you as he rocks his hips against you. When you feel his teeth trail over your shoulder, he chuckles when you tell him off.

“I can’t walk down the aisle with bruises on my shoulders, Marcus.”

It’s soft, and he tips you over the edge, feeling you clench around him as his fingers trace circles over your clit, following just behind you, filling you up once more. He doesn’t pull away from you, just settles your thigh back down, resting himself inside of you as you both fall back to sleep.

Then, he’s awake before your alarm. He wakes you with a kiss to your forehead, tells you to go back to sleep when you protest and try and coax him back to the warmth of your sheets. He has to shower he says, has to help Mike get ready, but he’ll be waiting for you, watching you all day. Marcus smiles, really smiles, when you curl over back onto your side, soft breaths and mumbles as you fall back to sleep, and as he walks to his own room and stands waiting for the shower to warm, there’s a feeling of content that spreads through him – should he have fucked you last night? Probably not. Should he have encouraged you to talk more? Probably yes. He knows he’s got his cards hidden, he’s not letting on that this might not have to just exist here, but he’ll keep that to himself for just a little longer.

“So,” Cassie smirks from her place in the make-up chair, artist flitting around her, pressing all number of products into her face, “You and the groomsman?”

“Shut up,” You mutter to her, trying not to scratch at your face, make-up already settling uncomfortably across your skin, “A momentary lapse of judgement.”

She hums, and then moves her focus back to the make-up artist who is tilting her face to put on some blush, “You don’t have to lie to me, you know,” She says to you as you pass her a mimosa, “I know that was Marcus. The Marcus.”

There’s a moment where you feel like a deer in headlights, like you’ve been caught being up to no good, even though you know that’s not the case. Then you turn slowly to her, eyebrow raised, and see her smirking, much to the chagrin of the make-up artist who urgently wants to get her lipstick on her so she can move onto the final bridesmaid.

“He’s Mike’s friend, they went to school together, see each other quite often these days – apparently he always talks about a girl from Austin, no-one could ever compare, he’s tried moving on, done this, done that, but always came back to thinking about the one who got away,” She stops talking to take a drink, “Which sounded oddly familiar to someone else I know.”

She’s not wrong really – Cassie had been a lifeline when you’d moved to D.C. a work colleague turned best friend, who has been the shoulder to cry on whenever dates had gone badly, or even when they’d been good, but you just couldn’t get Marcus Pike off your brain. She told you, like most good friends would, that it would take time, you’d find someone right for you, someone who would take your mind right off Marcus, but it never happened.

“You did this on purpose!” You accuse, but its friendly, because really, her and her soon-to-be husband have only done what you had always wanted to do yourself, pick up the phone, no matter how long it has been and tell the man you still loved him.

“Of course we did,” She chuckles, “Don’t think about it too much,” She adds, “Just enjoy this today and most of all, behave yourself.”

When Cassie walks down the aisle, it’s not her that Marcus is looking at – it’s you. He hadn’t thought it possible for him to find you more beautiful than he had before, but in your dark green dress, slit cut into the fabric to show off one of your legs as you walk, dress cut perfectly to sit on all the curves of your body that he always did love, he can’t deny you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. He spends the entire ceremony making eyes at you, smirking when you meet his gaze. He wants to tell you how lovely you look, lean down and plant a kiss to your lips in front of everyone, but he doesn’t get a chance until cocktail hour, once you’ve had your pictures taken and Cassie has insisted on you finally having a drink and enjoying your day instead of flapping about whether she needs anything from you.

“Has anyone told you how beautiful you look today?” He asks, hand settling on your waist as you lean against the bar waiting for your drink.

“Funnily enough, it’s not me most people have been looking at.” You quip back, taking the margarita from the bartender when it’s handed to you.

“I’ve been looking at you.”

“I know,” You smirk, “Pretty sure I ruined my panties stood at the top of the aisle.”

“Because the ceremony moved you so much?”

“Because I couldn’t stop thinking about your face between my thighs, actually.”

He looks exactly like he always used to when you flirt with him like this. Eyes low and dark, mouth slightly ajar like he can’t quite believe you’ve just been so forward. He’s not thinking straight anymore, and much like he had done last night, he grips around your wrist and starts dragging you from the reception room, this time there are considerably more people so you manage to slip out unnoticed.

Instead of heading up the stairs, taking you to your room or his, he turns left down a hallway, tearing open the door to one of the bathrooms. It’s a single stall, lock clicking behind him. You press your back against the wall, setting your drink down on the sink.

Marcus takes three steps towards you, hand slipping around your waist, pulling you flush against his body, lips so close that you can feel his breath on your skin.

“Do you know how sinful you’ve looked all day?” He asks, “Walking around looking all innocent, but I know you’ve been begging to get fucked all day, haven’t you?” You whine at him in response, trying to chase his mouth as he pulls back, “Don’t think I didn’t see you rubbing your thighs together during the ceremony.”

“It’s only because you wouldn’t stop looking at me.”

His hand finds the skin of your thigh, the slit of your dress making it easy for him to trail up to the hem of your panties.

“If I put my fingers on you,” He breathes, “Will you be wet?”

“Why don’t you find out?” You cock your head to the side, biting your lip as you look at him, his hand pulling your panties to the side, thick fingers slipping between your folds.

“Baby,” He moans, finally taking your bottom lip between his, nipping your skin with his teeth a little before he pulls away, fingers slipping inside you, pulling a groan from your throat, “Soaked for me?”

“Always, Marcus.”

He drags his fingers from you, spins you around, and reaches down to bring your palms up to rest against the wall in front you. He puts his hands on your hips, dragging your ass backwards until you can feel him through his trousers. His hands shuck your dress up to your waist and instead of tearing your panties off, he pushes them to the side. You look over your shoulder at him, as much as you can, and watch as he undoes his belt, pulls the zipper of his trousers down and reaches in, pulling his cock out. His trousers are pushed down just enough to let him free himself, and you don’t think you’ve seen such a beautiful sight in your life, than Marcus Pike with his fist around his cock, running his hand up and down himself as he moves to nudge the head of his cock at your soaked core.

Unlike last night, he isn’t gentle when he pushes into you. He’s buried inside your cunt in seconds, setting a pace that punches the air from your lungs. You know that even though you’re locked in here, away from the party, there’s still every chance someone is going to walk past, try the door handle, and hear exactly what’s going on in here, so you’re trying your best to keep the noise to a minimum.

“Needed you so badly, baby,” Marcus chokes out behind you, hands gripping your hips hard enough that you’re sure you’ll have his fingerprints embedded onto your skin, “Always so pretty for me, aren’t you?”

He’s hitting that sweet spot inside you, over and over again, and you have to bite your lip to keep yourself from crying out. You feel one of his hands trail up your spine through the material of your dress, coming to rest with a grip around the nape of your neck, his fingers itching to slide up into your hair and grip it.

“You can’t,” You plead, “Don’t mess my hair up.”

“I won’t baby.” He pants out from behind you, trailing his hand down just a little so he’s not tempted to take a fistful of it to pull you back, arch you into him even more.

It’s fast and it’s hard, everything Marcus never really used to be. He liked to take his time, spread you out and have you crying for him before he slipped inside you, slowly, watching every contort of pleasure on your face. You think you like this new version of him, the one so desperate to have you he couldn’t make it up the stairs, couldn’t even pull your panties down your legs.

“Marcus,” You moan out, “Please.”

“What’s that, baby?” He asked, mouth right by your ear, “You begging for something?”

“Mmmhmm.”

“What do you want?”

“Make me come?”

You think maybe he might try and tease you some more, but mercifully he takes the hand he’s got resting on your hip and snakes it down your body, letting his fingers find your clit - he had always been good at that. He drags the gathered slick where he can, cock still moving into you, pulling whimpers and moans whenever you feel his skin slap against yours, circles your clit quickly with the pad of his finger. You can feel your walls tightening around him, your thighs starting to shake as he continues doing exactly what he’s doing.

It’s no secret to either of you that making you come always took time. He’d never shamed you for it, always been more than happy to do whatever it took, for as long as it took, to get you there. But the mix of desperation for him, elation that he’s waltzed right back into your life, and the fact he’s fucking you in a public bathroom, have that coil tightening inside you quicker than ever.

“Can feel you getting tight around me baby,” He groans into your ear, “You gonna let go for me?”

You don’t have time to tell him yes. The tight coil snaps inside you, your eyes closed so tightly you’re sure the make-up around your eyes is dragging down your cheeks on tears. You can keep your voice down now as you flutter around his cock, you cry out his name, feeling his hands holding onto your hips to keep you steady as your legs threaten to fall out from underneath you.

You’re only half aware of him speaking into your ear, telling you he’s close. You can feel him start to pull himself out of you, so you reach behind you quickly, fingernails digging into the part of his thigh you can reach to keep him inside you.

“I swear to god if you get cum on my dress Pike, I’ll kill you.”

He lets out a deep, throaty chuckle behind you, slams himself back into you, “You just want an excuse for me to come inside you, don’t you?” He hisses into your ear, teeth nipping at the skin behind your ear, “You just have to ask nicely for it.”

“Please, Marcus, please.”

Never one to deny you, he does, having held out as long as he could, he thrusts once, twice and then he’s moaning your name into your ear. You can feel him spilling inside of you, filling you up, then you can feel him dripping down your thigh when Marcus starts pulling away from you, not quite quick enough to put your panties back on. He tells you to keep still, fumbling behind him for some paper he can use to clean your thighs up.

He speaks to you as he lets the material of your dress fall back down over your legs, “Walking around full of me for the rest of the night.” He coos as you turn around, reaching out to pull his mouth to yours in a chaste kiss.

You stay like that for a moment, both attempting to fix the others clothes. Marcus brings his thumb to his mouth, letting his tongue jut out to wet it, before he drags it under your eye, getting rid of the worst of the black marks he’s caused.

You reach behind him, unlock the door, but take hold of his hand as you push the door open. Thankfully there’s no-one waiting outside to use the bathroom as you drag him back down towards the party.

It’s late. Or early depending on how you look at it. Marcus had dragged you from the dance floor at midnight, walked you slowly up to his room instead of yours. He’d helped you out of your dress, let you shower and wash yourself clean, then, before you could put your robe on and insist on going to sleep, he’d taken your hand, led you to the chair near the balcony doors and he’d made good on his promise of last night to spend hours with his face between your legs.

“I can’t,” You whine, Marcus hand’s pinning your legs open, his tongue flicking against your clit, “It’s too much.”

He pulls off you just enough to speak, “Believe in yourself baby,” He says, sinking two fingers into you, curling them upwards, “I know you can, just one more for me.”

Your whole body feels like its on fire. You’ve lost count of the amount of times he’s made you come tonight. There had been a small reprieve when you’d begged to suck his cock, Marcus obliging, painting your face and your tongue, before he settled right back to his knees. It’s almost as if he thinks if he stops you’ll disappear.

Your fingers are tangled in his hair, battling between tugging his face closer and pulling it away as he sucks your clit into his mouth, the added pressure along with the flicking of his tongue setting your skin on fire even more than before. Your hair is sticking to your forehead and the back of your neck, rivulets of sweat gathering at various points across your body as Marcus tips you over the edge once more.

Your mouth drops open in a silent scream, body feeling boneless as your whole body convulses at his touch. Almost like he knows, he pulls himself away from you gently, knowing that any more would be too much, saving you the need to beg him to stop. He presses soft kisses to the skin of your tummy, kissing up your body until he’s sitting up on his knees, kissing into your mouth, letting you taste yourself on him.

Marcus clambers to his feet, takes hold of your hand and pulls you to your feet, guiding you over to the bed to settle you under the sheets, the air peppering your sweaty skin with goosebumps. It’s a sad realisation that you have to go home tomorrow, that the bubble you’ve caught yourself up in over the past few days is about to burst. You think this might break your heart even more than the first time around.

“What are we going to do?” You ask against the skin of his chest as he pulls you into him.

“What do you mean?” He asks back, kiss pressed lightly to your forehead.

“With us, after this?” Your fingers are tracing over his skin, trying to map the feeling of him before he leaves.

“Well, I thought maybe we could go for dinner sometime?”

You look up at him, face contorted in confusion, “You’re going to come all the way from Austin to take me for dinner?”

“No baby,” He chuckles a little, “I don’t live in Austin anymore, I live in D.C.”

You push yourself up in bed, one hand on the mattress to keep yourself upright, looking down at Marcus, who reaches up to cup your cheek in his hand, thumb rubbing soft lines across your skin, “Since when?”

“Two years?” He offers, “I would have-” He trails off a little, “I would have told you but I wasn’t in a great place when I first moved, had no idea what your life would have even looked like either, I didn’t just want to turn up out of the blue if you’d moved on, found someone else.”

Your hand comes up to clutch at the wrist of the arm cradling your face, “I’ve waited so long for you,” You sigh, “I tried, tried to find someone else, but none of them were ever you Marcus.”

“I tried too,” He admits, because Lord knows he did, and for what? “I promise I’ll tell you everything one day, but right now, I want to fall asleep with you right here.”

You settle back down in bed, curling up against his side, arm draped over his waist, “Where in the city do you live?” You ask, sleep starting to make your eyes heavy.

“I’m on 4th street, in Petworth.”

You can’t help but laugh, because of course he fucking does. Marcus Pike has been living four streets over from you for the past two fucking years.

“You’ve been living four streets over from me for two years, Marcus.”

He runs his hands up and down your spine, gently, soothing you, “Well, that’s convenient, isn’t it?” He asks softly, “I can be at your front door in five minutes.”

“You want to be my booty call, Marcus Pike?”

“If that’s what you want,” He speaks, “I’ll be whatever you want me to be.”

“What are you doing Wednesday night?”

“Nothing, as far as I’m aware.”

“How about you take me on a first date?” You offer, “Let’s learn each other all over again and take things from there?”

Marcus colts your chin up to his face with a finger, leaning down and giving you the softest kiss you think you’ve ever received, “I would love nothing more.”

#Marcus Pike #Marcus Pike Smut #Marcus Pike x reader #Marcus Pike x you #marcus pike fanfiction #Marcus Pike x female reader #Marcus Pike x F!reader #Marcus Pike fic #Marcus Pike fanfic #the mentalist #the mental illness is winning #the mentalist fanfic #the mentalist fanfiction #Pedro pascal #marcus pike fluff #Marcus Pike angst #Marcus Pike Pedro Pascal #Marcus Pike The mentalist

520 notes · View notes

winterarmyy · 1 year

Text

Plot Twist | Part II

An arranged marriage with mafia!bucky.

Navigation: Part I | Part II | Part III* (end) | Extra

Words: 2.5k++ (whoops, this one’s longer)

Pairing: beefy mafia!bucky x female!reader

Warnings: only soft things most of the time. bucky's 'innocent' seduction, and reader is a bit extreme when she's angry. a bit of attempted murder but we can turn a blind eye on that. otherwise, safe to read.

A/N: Thank you so much for the incredible support from the previous chapter! I thought this gonna be a flop tbh. I’m still gonna do either way, it’s for my own indulgence after all. But, now that I know lots of you are on board, I’m thrilled to take y’all along for the ride! Enjoy!

Read my other works here: Masterlist

“Where is she?” Bucky had been searching for his wife in the crowd, but he was left disappointed when he wasn’t able to catch not even a glimpse of her.

Steve leaned closer, “Clint said they’re on the way a few minutes ago. They should be here any second now.” He informed.

Bucky seemed dissatisfied with his answer; maybe he should’ve come home first and come this gala with her. But Steve insisted that he was already late due to the flight delay, and he should just go straight from the airport. His wife would come later her own, should be fine.

“Fine my ass.” He thought. For some reason Bucky had been restless lately. Maybe he had been away from his wife for too long. He was thinking of taking some time off from this business, perhaps finally bringing Y/N to a trip somewhere.

They didn’t spend much time together, but when they did it was well-spent. At least that’s what Bucky think. After the reception ceremony, he brought Y/N straight home. He had to catch a flight later that night. Something about having “Some contract to settle at in Italy. I’ll be back in two weeks or so.”

Y/N was still in her wedding dress when he tell her the news. He remembered her looking sombre but she didn’t complaint at all; instead she looked up to him as said, “Have a safe trip, please.” Bucky didn’t expect her to look at him so yearningly. He wondered what was she thinking when she said that.

For a moment, he thought of cancelling everything and stay in New York. Spend time with her, get to know her. But thinking back about the piles of workload he had on his back, he quickly snapped back to reality.

As Bucky was walking out, about to leave his newly wedded wife at the door; he hesitated. He paused as his gaze trained on her, what should he do? Kiss her goodbye? Hug her?

Y/N looked up with eyes filled with confusion. Did he forget something? Is there something he wanted to tell her?

Bucky himself doesn’t know what to do. “Fuck it.” So, he simply turn around and left her internal questions unanswered. Trailing closely behind Steve greeted Y/N goodbye before jogging up to Bucky.

“Who’s in charge of her?” Bucky asked as him and Steve walked towards the car. “Clint.” Steve answered right when they meet up with Clint himself at the car door. Bucky sharpen his stare as Clint opened the door for him, “Keep me posted.” He ordered.

Turning back, Bucky took one last look at her; she was still standing stood at the entrance. Gloom seemed to surround her, but he could see she was trying to put up a strong face. His eyes soften for a second as he thought, “She does look gorgeous in that dress.”

He felt bad during the trip. He doesn’t particularly know why, but his heart aches whenever he thought of his wife was standing there when the car drove farther away from the mansion. Maybe it was the look she gave him before he left. Or maybe he was just getting mellow, as Steve said.

So, he did everything he could to make it up for his absence. Jewelleries, clothes, shoes; anything expensive that he set his eyes on when he was away. That was the only thing he can do; at least the only thing he knew women liked. Prettiest things for the prettiest lady.

Alas, none of the gifts he gave her ever really made her happy. Clint said she accepted it but always in a reluctant manner.

“He didn't have to give me this...”

“I can't possibly accept this...”

“Do I really have to…”

Her behavior left Bucky beyond puzzled. He didn’t know what to do; he barely knew her. So, he went with the most generic way to make a woman happy. Though it didn't completely backfire, but he wasn’t satisfied with her response.

Until one day, a ‘revelation’ he called. A ‘sign from God’ for those who believe. He found the answer when he was in Paris, two months after he was declared as a married man. On the way to his meeting, he drove by a cute café. Its’ surrounding layout was adorned mixture of white, pink, and peach roses. A thought came up to him as he remembered a moment during his wedding reception.

~Flashback~

“Do you think it's possible to keep my bouquet?” Bucky heard Y/N whispered to one of the wedding planners that attend the reception. The man nodded as he explained that he can arrange the request for her. She smiled brightly and thanked the man.

Bucky watched her with a spark of curiosity in his eyes. He had to ask, “You like roses?” it was short, straight to point. The question seemed to take her by surprise, Bucky never asked useless question like this.

“I love this particular type of rose.” She answered. A soft smile brightened her pretty face. A sincere expression that Bucky rarely sees in a person anymore.

He liked that.

He wanted to see more.

Wanting to continue the innocent conversation, he asked, “There's a difference?” He quirked an eyebrow.

It seems there was a silly thought that came across her mind as she giggled, “If I tell, it will only bore you.” she said.

There was glimmer in her eyes, purposely luring him to provoke her; a powerful seduction it was indeed, he leaned closer towards her, "Prove it."

~End Flashback~

“Steve, tell Clint to arrange a bouquet for her.” Bucky said, something in his eyes lifted his expression. There was no special occasion this time. It just reminds him of her.

Steve looked over him, “The usual red roses?” he asked, as if Bucky had done it was a daily occurrence.

“No…” an unconscious smile creeped up on him, "…white majolica spray roses." He said as he recalled the way she said it.

Turns out that was the best gift amongst all he gave so far. His chest seemed to tighten and soared at the time whenever he recalled how Clint explained her reaction to it.

“The widest smile he ever saw.” Clint said.

Too bad Bucky wasn't there to see it for himself.

Bucky was woken from his daydream when he heard a commission at the other side of the hall. When he turned to his left, he didn’t see Steve anywhere, he was supposed to be there. But it didn’t take long until Steve popped up in his view.

Steve walked up to the group of where Bucky was hanging around since he arrived. He faked the sincerest smile at them, “Gentlemen.” He nodded once, before leaning closer to Bucky, “It’s Y/N.”

Upon hearing her name, Bucky didn’t waste any more of his time with the meaningless small talk and left the group. Unlikely of him to leave without a proper greeting but it’s his wife for fuck’s sake.

Bucky nearly printed, “She arrived a few minutes ago and went to grab a drink.” Steve said. His brows quirked into a deeper frown, “Unsupervised? In here?” Bucky growled. Steve knew better to leave his wife in this ‘battlefield’ alone. “No, Clint was...”

The first thought that came to him was she was in danger and that pumped a rush of adrenaline through him. But it was far from the truth. In fact, quite the opposite. When Bucky managed to slither through the crowd he ended up stopping at his track.

His wife was the center of attention; two feet in front of her was a woman, tall and blonde. An empty glass in Y/N’s hand. Red wine soaked into the silk of her dress; leaving an eye-sore of a stain on her beautiful lilac dress.

“Do you think this is funny?” there was a grit in Y/N’s voice, nothing like the gentle tone she used around Bucky.

Foolish woman she was, that blonde, believing what she did was amusing. Purposely stepping on Y/N’s dress, and when she was left unguarded the woman lifted the bottom of the glass that Y/N was holding spilling the deep red drink on her dress.

“It’s a little bit funny.” The blonde giggled gleefully. And she was out there thinking that ridiculing Y/N Barnes was a humorous joke. Unaware of how petrified the people surrounding them. No one messes with Barnes. No one.

Y/N stood tall and proud; she tried to remain unfazed by childish tricks as this. A smile curved on her lips; with a wave of her hand, a waiter came to her side and take away the empty glass from her hand before quickly retreated.

She walked gracefully towards the woman; surely the blonde was taller than her but somehow Y/N managed to make her feel like she was being looked down upon, “Oh dear…” Y/N chuckled.

Despite the light laughter from Y/N, there was a sudden change in the thickness of the atmosphere. It was much heavier, sturdier, quieter. Standing face to face, eye to eye, the dumb blonde finally realized the trouble she was in, especially with wordless superiority that Y/N was exuding.

Very much resembling Bucky’s, or perhaps the very opposite.

If Bucky’s was winter cold, hers was searing fire.

“Go ahead, laugh again. Best believe that I will shove this knife down your throat when you do.”, what a menacing gaze in those coffee-stained eyes of hers.

The woman was caught of guard when she saw a blade in Y/N’s hand. When did she got her hands on one of those? Perhaps if she was vigilant enough, she would’ve seen when Y/N pulled the knife from her thigh strap from the hidden side of her leg.

Alas she was stupidly brave to counter Y/N’s threat. “I-in front of these p-people? You wouldn’t dare.” She stumbled upon her own words.

Amused, Y/N simply smiled, “You think they would care? Look around, you fool.”

The crowd was split into two categories; those who was scared for their own life and those who wanted to see blood. But both of them doesn’t give enough of a care about the life of another foolish woman who doesn’t know her place.

Y/N was right. And the woman was deemed to meet her doom.

“Come on now, ‘it’s a little bit funny’ right?” Y/N taunted her with a wickedly innocent giggle, before charging the knife to the woman’s throat.

Y/N was expecting to feel the blade sunk into her flesh, thrilling to see blood spilled from the wound but instead, she was stopped by a grip on her wrist, pulling her away from her target, “Woah there, tiger.” She recognized this voice anywhere.

“Bucky…” she whispered his name as he pulled her closer; her back flushed against his sturdy chest, muscular arms around her waist. “Okay, okay. Easy now...” His hand grazed along her wrist up to her palm, taking away the weapon from her hand.

“That’s it. Calm down, honey. Wouldn’t want you to get hurt, would we?” Bucky dipped his face to the side of her neck, whispering sweet nothings in her ear; his thumb rubbing her waist, coaxing her to submit. Y/N does not know what kind of sorcery was involved, but he managed to calm her down. She leaned further into his embrace as she place her hand top of Bucky’s.

Bucky eyed Steve, giving a signal to take care of the rest of the mess, as he gracefully lead his wife away, towards the balcony for some privacy. As soon as they step outside, the cold air breezed on the surface of her exposed skin, waking her up from the lavender haze Bucky lured her into.

Having her back facing towards Bucky, she could hear him closing the door and walking up to her. She was still pissed off about the whole ordeal, but somehow her husband still managed to sway her around to face him, “It’s just a dress, we can buy more it you want.” He coaxed with a gentle caress on her arms.

“That’s not the point.” She spat, an upset frown decorating her pretty face.

But that only soften Bucky even more, “Then?”

However, she remained silence. In fact, she doesn’t know how to say it. She just looks down at the stain on her dress, “It was a gift from you.” and yet the words left unsaid.

Bucky followed her gaze; the stain was surely prominent on the pastel dress. Dragging his eyes lower, he can see the wine dripping on exposed thighs through the slit of dress, bit by bit flowing lower towards her ankle.

He lightly push her back against the railing before going down on his knees. Wordlessly, he lifted her leg and place it on his thigh; he could feel the thin heel of her shoes digging into his skin, but he didn’t care. Y/N didn’t question any of his action, especially when he pull out a handkerchief from the pocket of his suit and gently wipe the excess fluid from her skin.

“Why are you mad, doll? Tell me.” His tone was honeyed as if he was pleading, as his hands keep dapping the wetness away.

There was a few seconds of stillness before Y/N finally confessed, “It was a gift from you.”

Bucky looked up at her, “What is?” As if he didn’t notice the first time he saw it.

She sighed an exhausted breath, “This dress. It was the very first gift you’ve given me.” She sounded genuinely upset. A tiny pout was starting to form on her lips.

Deciding to play dumb, Bucky asked, “Oh, is it?” he grinned a foolish smile.

Y/N wanted to wipe that smug from his face, “I’m being serious, Buck! I—” her words were cut short as she felt Bucky’s lips on her thighs. His gaze dragged slowly from her eyes and downwards to where was planting his invisible marks. Litters of feather-like kisses, as he hands gently grip on the back of thigh and calve.

“Bucky… What are you doing?” her brain was unable to render a full thought, while he lungs seemed to forgot how process air for her to breathe.

He lifted his head up for a second, “You’re just so precious, doll...” He smiled, dipping back and planted another kiss, “…that’s all.” He mumbled against her skin.

His stubble felt too good she almost melted where she stood, “I—I’m still pissed off.” She faked her anger, hoping it will stop him from doing such intimate thing in a public place like this.

Bucky willed himself to stop, as he knew if this kept going, he might go all the way regardless of where they are, “Then, let’s get out of here. What do you think?” He placed her leg down as he stood on his feet.

The offer seemed tempting, Y/N was feeling a little bit hungry and everything in the gala was bite-sized. That’s not food. At least not in her book. Her eyes brighten to the thought of having proper meal, “Can we? But aren’t you like, an important person?” she peeked at the glass door ahead, the silhouettes of people moving around, laughing; seemed like they were enjoying the gala.

“Compared to you? Never.” There was a hint of flirtatiousness in his tone. Playful, yet flirty.

Y/N rolled her eyes, “That’s not what I meant.”

Bucky chuckled as he held out his hand, silently inviting her to an unplanned rendezvous, “Come on, sweets. Anywhere you want to go.”

<< Part I || Part III >>

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Feel free to share your thoughts 🤍

#winterarmyyfics #plottwistfic #mafia!bucky #mob!bucky #bucky barnes au #mafia!bucky x reader #mob!bucky x reader #arranged marriage #husband!bucky #beefy!bucky #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you

1K notes · View notes

bunny-lily · 7 days

Text

Tether Me - Chapter 3

Pairing(s): Geto/Gojo/Reader Summary: Your soul housed a violent anathema whose sole purpose was to torment you with the notion that nowhere is safe. You can’t stay here, you can’t stay there, you can’t stay anywhere.

It reminded you of that one immortal snail hypothetical. No matter where you went, it would always follow you.

If that was the case, then, where was that feeling now?

The bickering boys in front of you, the idyllic mountains that curtained the shallow canyon, this cozy home and the terrifying one you owned – why didn’t they spur that fight-or-flight instinct in you? What was different about Japan, about this location?

Why did breathing feel so easy?

AN: Additional tag warnings: suggestive content, smut, masturbation, degrading names/language to self. There is 1 (one) mention of reader being mildly interested in nutrition facts. Just a small warning. It's very, very brief, but I figured I'd better be safe.

Ch: Prologue | Ch: 1 | Ch: 2 | Ch: 3

WC: 14.7k

“Whatcha makin’?” Satoru grilled you. Again.

He was relaxing on his forearms on the kitchen island, right leg bouncing on the circular step of the barstool, having pestered you for the nth time in the last 20 minutes alone.

You ignored him, focusing on whipping the egg whites, occasionally sprinkling more of the sugar you set aside into the mix. He had an electric mixer, one of those super pricey ones, too, but you preferred doing it by hand. Your entire arm was killing you, but you had better control like this.

You also just didn’t know how to operate the electric mixer.

You were pleasantly surprised to find that he already had all the ingredients you needed – ‘Ijichi tries to bake sometimes. He chars the cookies every time, though.’ – so a trip to Granny’s shop was spared. As was the trip to the bakery, that was pushed aside for another day.

Satoru’s and Suguru’s eyes were needling into your back, way too intense and nerve-wracking for comfort for such a menial task. You weren’t expecting them to both want to watch you fulfill your promise to make something for the former.

You also weren’t anticipating the latter’s presence, the added weight of his appearance making your wrist shake, and it wasn’t from exerting yourself with the egg whites.

“You could just use the stand mixer,” Gojo informed you.

He reminded you of an impatient bee; buzzing around you, epicurious about anything sweet, and a bit annoying. Otherwise harmless, so long as you didn’t try to steal said sweets.

“Yes, I know, thank you,” you replied flatly. “I prefer whisking by hand, though.”

“Why? That just seems tiring.”

It was, but you weren’t about to tell him that. “It’s easier for me to discern the stiffness of the peaks this way.”

“But it takes so long,” he complained, then added an extra few choice words under a whisper. “I’ll make your peaks stiff…”

Suguru chimed in. “Be patient, Satoru. Baking takes time, you can’t rush the process.”

You were quick to become very appreciative of that man. He was the real angel on your shoulder, supporting you and defending you from his best friend’s complete and utter gremlin chaos.

“But it takes so loooong,” the aforementioned gremlin whined louder.

Suguru groaned quietly and extended an apologetic smile to you when you pivoted to look at them. Satoru had his head laid down on the counter, nose smushed and stupidly long arms stretched out across the surface. You ruffled his hair as you passed him to grab the baking tray and paper he found for you earlier.

He tilted his head enough to show you a closed-eye mien of happiness, lips curled like the Chesire cat’s. He really did remind you of a feline a lot of the time, he downright purred when you ran your fingers through his enviously soft tresses.

Shit. You wanted to touch them again.

You retrieved the tray and strutted back to your bowl of semi-prepared batter. “Do you want me to tell you what I’m making now, or do you want it to be a surprise?”

His head popped up. “Now! Wait– no, no, surprise! Oh, wait, no, hang on,” he rambled, warring with indecision.

Suguru met your gaze and stood up from the stool he’d picked out, coming to stand beside you and bending so you were face-to-face. “I’d like to know now, if you’re willing to divulge,” he pointed at himself, the corners of his lips tugging upwards.

You made a show of deliberating his request, pressing the side of your index finger against your bottom lip as you tapped your toe and furrowed your brow. Your eyes sparkled as you beckoned him closer with your hand, choosing to heed his request, and motioned for him to turn his head to the side.

Having him this close to you was making your heart flutter like a canary behind the protective bars of its cage, chirping and tweeting. The warmth of his skin radiated in pleasant waves towards you, and the notes of his aura grazed against your cheeks once more; warm chai on a mellow night.

This was dangerous, yet you craved more.

You noticed the gauges in his lobes as he did so, appreciating the disks of deep blue as you leaned closer and cupped your hand around his ear, whispering into it.

He rose back up with an approving nod. “Oh, he’ll like those. Keep it a secret.”

“What!?” Satoru cried out, rounding the island sharply and closing the distance between you in two steps. “That’s cruel! You can’t just tell him, then not tell me!”

You patted his chest and lightly bumped him out of the way with your hip. “Sorry, it’s two-to-one. You’ll have to be patient to find out. I don’t think it’ll be hard for you to guess, anyway.”

“Is it too late to kick you out?”

“Yes,” Suguru answered in your stead. “She’s baking something for you, she gets to bully you a little in return.”

“Thank you, Geto-san,” you bowed exaggeratedly to him, then began folding the batter and adding drops of food coloring to it.

Satoru sulked. “She doesn’t bully me a little, she bullies me a lot.”

The kokushoku-haired boy clapped his hand on the other’s shoulder. “It’s good for you. Character growth, it’ll teach you some humility.”

“Oi! Who’s side are you on, anyway?” He accused him with a pointed finger pressing into his chest.

Suguru raised his hands by his shoulders in mock surrender, a shit-eating grin pinching his cheeks. “Hey, I’m just the mediator here.”

“‘Mediator’ my ass. You’re just defending her because she’s making cookies–”

“Not cookies,” you and Suguru corrected in sync.

“–or some shit.”

You rolled your eyes, muffling a laugh against the back of your hand while you scooped the batter into a piping bag. You’d have to replace it later and leave an apology note for Ijichi. Not that they were used much, from what you could tell. Once the bag was full, you twisted the top shut and snipped the bottom to let the round tip free, fighting to not make any terribly tasteless dick jokes in the process.

You couldn’t do that in polite company.

Polite company was Geto.

Satoru and Suguru bickered back and forth behind you as you concentrated on piping facile, even circles onto the baking sheet. That was the hardest part for you, getting them to be symmetrical. You had to flaunt your skill. You had an audience of two stupidly attractive men awaiting your results.

You released the breath you were holding when you finished the last row, smug that they were all perfect. You set aside the nearly empty plastic bag and lifted the tray an inch off the counter and dropped it a few times, shaking loose any bubbles.

Whooh, the majority of your work was done now.

The tray got pushed aside to let the batter rest while you cleaned up your station of a few things. “Satoru.”

“And you– ah?” He answered, pulled out of his boyish spat. “What?”

“French, American, Swiss, or Italian?”

“Uh…” He gave you a flat, confused squint while you and Suguru waited for his decision. “American…?”

“Good choice,” you nodded, relieved you wouldn’t need to do any more heavy lifting. For this, you could use the stand mixer. After you figured it out, that is, but you had plenty of time to do that now.

Except for the fact that it was on top of the fridge.

For some fucking reason.

You planted your hands on your hips, staring up at it angrily.

Your mother and father both just had to be short. What a cruel joke the universe has played on you, putting you in a house designed specifically around a tall freak and his freakishly tall family. You hadn’t seen his folks, but it was easy to assume, given the door frame heights. RNG could only get you so far if the right genes didn’t run in your family.

Gritting your teeth, you stepped closer to the fridge, placed one hand on the front side that didn’t have the ridiculous LED touchscreen panel on it, then jumped on your toes, trying to reach the object.

Your fingers could only ever barely graze the base of it, no matter how hard you tried. Shit. Alright, plan B.

You twirled around to face the now silent pair that were observing you with amused, wry smickers, clearly entertained by your struggle.

Oh.

Your plan B was to grab a chair from the dining table to use as a stool, but somehow that felt more humiliating than plan C.

“Help,” you requested with faux meekness. “Please.”

“Help with what?” Suguru drawled with a coy lilt. “Use your words, angel.”

You pressed your lips together to stave off the flood of lewd hormones that threatened to drown you under their heady waves. He really meant it when he said he was going to use that nickname, and you were struggling.

“Please, help me get the thing down from the fridge.”

“What thing?” Satoru goaded you. “Be more specific.”

Plan B was looking to be a lot more viable now. What was a bit of your pride worth, anyway?

Your nostrils flared and you forced your blood to cool. “The stand mixer. I…can’t reach it.”

“We can see that,” he confirmed as he approached you, hands casually stuffed in his pockets. “You are pretty short.”

Your tongue started moving before your brain could register, let alone approve of, just what you were mouthing under your breath. “Yeah, well, why don’t you put some inches in me…”

Your eyes widened and you slapped your hand over your mouth, watching in mortification as his surprise morphed into absolutely elated revelry.

“What was that, princess?” He took a step forward, you took one back, one more from him, one more from you, all the way until he had cowed you against the far counter, his hands trapping you in on either side. “Wanna say that again?”

“N-No! I said nothing!”

“Didn’t sound like nothing to me,” he lolled his head to the side, peering down at you through those cetacean lenses.

Are his eyes gray? You questioned silently as you attempted and failed to process how you got yourself into this position, all of it coming so fast. They’re so light. His glasses make them look blue.

“Oh?” Suguru voiced as he came to stand beside you two, bending to have his face in your line of sight, further causing you to shrink. “What’d she say?”

Satoru chuckled darkly, making chills shoot up your back and heat pool deep in your belly and high on your cheeks. “Correct me if I’m wrong, princess, but I do believe she told me to ‘put some inches in her’.”

Your face felt like it was fluxing off. Sweat formed at your hairline, your arms shook as you gripped the counter behind you for dear life, you were dying.

“Is that so?” Geto spoke in a hush. “Didn’t know this one had such a mouth on her. I think I know how to put it to better use to keep her from talking back…”

That’s it. You died. You were dead, right? There was no other possible, reasonable, believable explanation for how you got yourself stuck in this situation, pinned in place by a set of large hands and the striking stares of two illogically beautiful men who were just eating you alive.

“I–” you stammered. Forget speaking, you were straining to so much as breathe normally.

“Got nothin’ more to say, mochi?” The platinum boy whispered into your ear, hot breath brushing against sensitive skin and making you jolt. “Done bein’ a brat?”

You gaped at them with round, unblinking eyes, flickering back and forth between the two as they played Judge, Jury, and Executioner on your innocence – or lack thereof. You gulped with some difficulty, stunned into silence when Satoru cupped your cheek with a big, warm palm.

He’s touching me, oh, gods, what’s he doing, why is he getting closer–?

He swiped his thumb over the curve of your cheekbone, just under your eye, and pulled back only enough to show a smear of pink along the digit without moving an inch away from you. Batter – a spot must have gotten onto your face without you noticing.

While maintaining direct eye contact, he stuck his tongue out and salaciously pressed his finger onto it, sliding it down to spread the mixture onto the length of it, ensuring you witnessed every. Single. Micro. Movement. He closed his mouth, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he visibly swallowed, then his lips spread into an equally satyric smirk.

“I knew you’d taste sweet,” he purred and stepped back, leaving you disconcerted and dazed as he walked off like nothing happened, sitting back down at the island and picking up a conversation with Suguru.

You hadn’t even seen the other one move, let alone get the stand mixer down from the fridge and place it on the center of the marble countertop while they chatted about something you couldn’t hear past the shrill ringing in your ears and the deafening pumping of the stupid organ in your chest that refused to shut the hell up.

Time seemed nonexistent and all too pervasive as you took long seconds – or minutes? – to come back to yourself. Forgetting how to operate was a bizarre sensation, motor skills shot down as you went through a system reset.

You numbly gathered all the ingredients you needed, laying them out in a neat line that you, in full honesty, should not have been able to create with the way your hands vibrated. The boys seemed none the wiser to your plight, and you were thanking whatever remaining lucky stars you had that they weren’t pointing out what a fucking mess they turned you into in the span of less than a minute.

Buttercream.

Make the buttercream.

You’re fiiiiine, all good, mhm. Not like you had your entire spirit gashed right out your body by the primes of godliness across from you or anything, nope. You were a fully functioning, intelligent, strong, capable woman that wasn’t losing her absolute fucking shit.

You swear you heard laughter that distinctly resembled your mother’s, letting you know you were on your own with this one.

Traitor.

Willing your body to calm the hell down, you plugged in the mixer, messed around with it a bit, and got to making the filling for the macarons. You threw in the butter, watching it get tossed and beaten around until it succumbed to the paddle and became creamy and smooth.

Watching butter get pounded into submission was inherently satisfying to you, scratching some itch deep in the back of your skull.

You wondered what that said about you.

You glanced up at the boys and pinched your brows together. You shouldn’t think about potential kinks in front of them. For all you knew, they could read your mind. Best not to risk it, you could save that subject for later in solitude.

Or just stuff it in the ‘Problems to Deal With Later’ box you hid under your metaphorical bed with the rest of your dilemmas, never to be seen again. Whichever came first.

Vanilla extract…powdered sugar…sloooowly, now.

‘Slowly, now,’ he whispered in your ear and oh god oh fuck, you were fantasizing, nope, stop it, bad, fuck.

You bit the inside of your cheek hard, flinching at the pain. Phew, it brought you out of your imagination. You shamed your pussy for being a mindless whore. She couldn’t just wait until you were alone, huh? Had to humiliate you in front of the most unbearably sexy men you’ve ever seen?

Why am I like this.

“All good?”

You jumped with a startled squeak and saw Suguru inspecting you with a curious tilt and a knowing glint.

Crap, could he actually read your mind?

“Uh– yep! All good!” You affirmed a smidge too quickly and cleared your throat to drive away the squeaky chipmunk in your gullet.

Who needed lucky stars, anyway?

Satoru jutted his chin towards the counter behind you, where you left the tray. “Why didn’t you put it in the oven?”

Oh, sacred distractions, how you loved them.

“The batter needs to sit for a bit,” you told him. “Needs to form a layer around the outside called a skin. A little bit like a crust.”

“Cookies with a crust?”

“Not cookies,” you and Suguru corrected a second time, then you proceeded. “It’s to prevent the shell from cracking.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t guessed what it is she’s making yet,” Suguru commented, resting his temple against his fist. “You’re, like, the pastry expert here.”

You both watched as the gears visibly turned in Satoru’s head. He alternated between inspecting you, the mixer filled with now finished filling, and the untouched tray. He squinted, and then a lightbulb went over his head.

“Macarons!” He exclaimed, shooting upright with his Colgate teeth on display. “You’re making macarons!”

You cheered and clapped for him. “Hey, he got it! Good job!”

The boy lifted his chin and puffed out his chest like a proud peacock. “That explains why it’s taking so long.”

You deflated with a groan and rolled your eyes. “I find it hard to believe you’ll die just because you have to wait a couple hours.”

“Couple hours!?” He nearly shrieked.

“Is he always like this, Geto-san?”

Suguru was exceptionally entertained, you could practically feel it in his gaze and oh, shit, I know that look. “Only when he has a cute girl baking for him.”

Goddamnit.

Sly, accursed fox.

You really should stop talking, you just kept getting yourself into shit like this, where you had Olympian gods flirting with you and you couldn’t tell if they were being genuine or patronizing. Either way, it wasn’t good for your poor little core, nor your other core. Y’know, the messy one between your thighs that liked to cause you a lot of trouble. You weren’t sure where it got the audacity from.

Seditious bitch.

Okay, so, dodging them wasn’t working. What about playing into their games?

“Hmm, you know, I only agreed to do this because you asked,” you tapped your chin, speaking in a false trill.

Both tunneled in on you.

Ah, this was bad. Worse than willful ignorance.

“Which one of us, mochi?” Satoru queried. He acted so kind, so curious, but you could hear the underlying warning in his tone. Be careful how you answer.

“Can’t it be both?”

Air rumbled low in Suguru’s throat, danger flashed in Satoru’s eyes behind those filtered glasses, and you knew you were boned. And not the good kind of boned.

Mama, I’m doomed.

“Careful there, little lotus,” Suguru hissed, steepling his fingers and hiding his mouth behind them, as if fighting to maintain control of himself. “You’re playing with fire.”

You never were the biggest fan of things that were too hot. Blistering summers without a wind to balm your sere skin, campfires that only ever blew sticky smoke in your direction, tea too piping to sip at when you were parched.

But these boys, who had flames crackling and sparking in the bottomless pits of their pupils? You’d happily let them reduce you to ash.

“I like the heat,” you whispered and stuck your tongue out at them, then pulled off a switch in personality you, frankly, were not aware you were capable of. You went right back to being polite and well-mannered as you disconnected the paddle attachment for the standmixer, scraped off any buttercream stuck to it with a Maryse spatula back into the bowl, and stuck the bowl into the fridge to chill.

You heard Satoru curse as close to silently as he could, Suguru’s teeth audibly clenched, and you knew they were both trying to dare you to do something like that again by burning you with their glares. You paid them no mind – on the outside, at least.

Your insides, on the other hand, were a tangled disaster of nerves.

One part of you was questioning where you got the gall, the courage, the bravura, another was having a breakdown from your momentary valor evaporating, leaving you questioning what in the finest shite you were thinking. Oh, and, yes, how could you forget the part of you that was busy waterboarding your panties with far too much slick for it to be normal?

For fuck’s sake, all they did was say a few coy words, and it got you this heady? How far you’ve fallen. Tragic.

Fighting against needing to shift your shorts into a more comfortable position (which would be one hell of an ask since there wasn’t a spot untouched by your dew), you instead very feebly tapped a circle of batter on the tray with the tip of your finger, testing the shell strength. Thankfully, it seemed they were good to go, as none of the batter stuck to your pointer.

Satoru celebrated when he spotted you moving the tray to the clearly incredibly expensive (preheated) oven in his house. You slid it onto the rack, shut the door, and began fiddling with the settings until–

“Ah,” you clapped your fingers against the heel of your opposite hand, congratulating yourself for figuring out the timer. “15 minutes!”

“Finally!” Satoru exclaimed.

“Don’t get too excited yet, space cowboy,” you shut him down. “They’ll need to cool after that, and I’ll have to put in the filling next. Then they’ll be ready.”

He wailed and flattened his upper body across the island. “Whyyyyy?”

“It’ll feel like less time if we do something to distract you,” Suguru patted his upper back.

“I don’t wannaaaa,” he bleated like a wounded creature, attempting to garner sympathy points, as if that’d make the macarons bake faster. His head shot up, fingers pushing up his glasses that started to slip down. He reminded you of a grumpy rabbit, stomping his little (big) foot when his human angered him. “These macarons better be worth it.”

You pulled out one of the bar stools and wiggled onto it, your feet dangling high over the ground. “How long did you think it takes to make macarons?”

“I dunno, like, half an hour?”

“Aren’t you the pastry expert here?” You mused.

Satoru crossed his arms over his chest and lifted his nose pompously. “I’m a connoisseur, not a baker.”

“Maybe you should learn,” you proposed. “You’re good at cooking, right? You can probably pick up baking quickly, then you’ll have a greater understanding and appreciation for baked goods.”

Geto’s nose scrunched up. “That’s not a good idea.”

“Eh?” You batted your eyelashes. “Why?”

“If Ijichi is bad at baking, Satoru is catastrophic.”

The catastrophic baker tugged at the hairs on the back of his head as he avoided eye contact. “I set the kitchen on fire once, is that so bad?”

“How the fuck did you set the kitchen on fire with an oven?” You blanched.

“Oh, no, not the oven,” the noiret clarified. “He tried to fry the croissants. Insisted it’d make them ready to eat sooner.”

You paled like a ghost. “So– so, he, wait– wait, waitwaitwait, he tried to make croissants, the notoriously difficult to make viennoiserie, and thought frying them would be a good idea?”

“What’s a ‘viennoiserie’?” Satoru asked innocently.

“‘Nother word for pastry,” Suguru said, then addressed your question. “Yep, just about.”

You thwarted the desire to place your head in your hands and tug at the roots of your hair. “What the fuck.”

Satoru appeared torn between looking sheepish and looking peeved, not enjoying the criticism. “It was one mistake. I mean, really, I don’t get why you can’t let it go already.”

“He basically raided my pantry every day while his kitchen was getting doctored. He found my hidden stash of chocolate on day two and devoured enough to make himself sick, and then some,” his poor best friend said with a grimace. “It was hidden for a reason. But it did reveal how poorly my chocolate was concealed, so I upped the security on it. Thanks for that.”

“You don’t even eat sweets,” an allegation was thrown at him. “How can you hoard them? Selfish.”

“I hoard them because of you,” he faulted. “I like having them occasionally, and I’m saving you from cavities and tooth rot.”

Gojo squinched. “I brush my teeth very well, thank you kindly.”

“Remember when you got that one really bad cavity as a kid?”

“Oh, so, we’re just airing out dirty laundry, eh?” Satoru slammed his hands down on the marble. “Weren’t you the one that ate so much spicy ramen in grade school that you threw up and tore your esophagus?”

Suguru flinched and pressed his palm against the lower half of his face, blood draining from the top down. “Why’d you remind me.”

“Wait, what?” Your brows pushed up. “What happened?”

He sighed the sigh of an old man who was about to recount his whole life story for the millionth time. “I like spicy food–”

“Loves spicy food,” the other adjusted.

“–and was addicted to it as a kid. I had one too many spicy ramens when I was, I think, twelve or so? My stomach didn’t like that, and fought back with a vengeance. I had to go to the hospital and get a feeding tube put in while I waited for my esophagus to heal.”

You winced and sucked your teeth. “Yikes, I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” He relaxed, shifting his hand to support his chin. “I recovered and learned a valuable lesson.”

“Not that it stops him from devouring spicy food any chance he gets,” the towhead teased.

“I eat it in moderation.”

“At least two meals a day,” he shot back.

Suguru glared at him. “You’re no better. You practically live off of sugar, ninety percent of the stuff in your fridge is some kind of confectionary. Don’t get me started on the cupboards.”

You perked up, connecting a couple dots. “Oh, so that’s why I had to dig through, like, three mini cakes to find the eggs.” You slouched onto the counter. “What do you need three cakes for, anyway? Birthday coming up?”

Gojo merely shrugged. “I like cake. Ririka-san said she had extras she didn’t want to toss out and asked if I wanted them. You expect me to say no to that? It’s free cake.”

“You’re not exactly hurting for money, Satoru,” Geto sighed and rested his forehead on the webbing between his thumb and index finger. “But I suppose it did reduce waste, so, I guess it’s fine.”

“See?” He preened. “I’m a good person. I’m a great person.”

“Good people don’t say they’re good,” his friend deadpanned.

“This one does,” he hmphed, facing you and imploring your support, “don’t you think so?”

You pinched your chin and counted spots on the ceiling while humming, pondering. “You did take me in…but you’re kind of a whippersnapper…”

“Whippersnapper?” He gaped incredulously.

You pretended to not hear him. “Hmm…yeah, I’d say you’re a decent person.”

“Hah!” Satoru smacked the smooth surface underhand, beaming at your mutual companion. “See? What’d I tell ya!”

“Give it a few days,” Suguru warned you, his cheeks squeezing his eyes shut as they got pushed up by the corners of his mouth. Gods, that face was too cute.

You jolted when the oven timer went off and hurriedly rushed to check on the macarons. This step was vital – a minute too long or too short could spell demise for the treats. You cracked the door open a smidge, peeking through the gap to inspect them.

No cracks, crisp edges, cooked but not browned, perfect.

You turned off the oven and opened it fully, pulling on the silicone heat gloves to protect your skin, after which you eased the tray out and set it on top of the cooling rack nearby like you were handling pure gold.

Once they were balanced and safe, you threw off the gloves and belled, rhapsodic.

“Yippee! Now, we wait for them to cool, I add the filling, and they’ll be ready to eat!”

Your poor benefactor behaved the way a child would: pouting and bordering on a tantrum. “Come onnnn already.”

“He’s always like this, you said?” You turned to his best friend, who sent a sympathetic expression your way.

“Yes, and you’ll be living with him for the time being. I wish you the most sincere good luck I can muster.”

“Woooow, just throwing me to the wolves, huh? Er, wolf, singular,” you placed your hands on your hips.

Something flashed behind his pupils, his lips curling as he rested his chin on the back of his overlapped hands, and you felt a chill shoot up your spine.

Oh. Oh, dear.

His voice took on a husky croon, solidifying your place in hell. “Who said I’m not a wolf, too?”

Satoru blew air through his lips. “Oooh, edgy, how scary.”

“Shut it, Moon Moon,” Suguru snarled at him, all edge lost.

You involuntarily cackled at the lackluster insult. How fitting.

They certainly had the physiques of wolves. On the contrary, their personalities reminded you of cats. Or, rather, Satoru was a cat, and Suguru was a fox. His narrow, sly eyes had all the hallmarks of a kitsune in disguise, swishing tails hidden from sight, visible only to those enlightened. A stalker, one to hide in the bushes, crepuscular, using the depths of twilight to mask his measured movements.

Then there was Satoru.

A Ragdoll, made entirely of absurd amounts of fluff, sass, confidence, and a healthy dose of vainglory. An oversized animal that thought he was still a lap kitten, deserving of all your attention and energy. Trying to push him off your legs that were quickly losing blood supply was nothing short of criminal and a villainous sin.

Where the black fox was stealth and meticulous perspicacity, the Ragdoll was the type to walk into a room it knows you aren’t in and yell at the top of its lungs to summon you.

He’d steal your chair, just so you’re forced to interact with him, even if it meant shooing him out of the seat (assuming he’d be willing to give it up, which was often a resounding no). Your food? No, you’re mistaken, that’s his food, he’s just being charitable and altruistic by allowing you to eat it. You should have been thanking him with your forehead on the floor.

God-complex ass. Lovable ass – phrasing.

“Heyyyyy,” the lovable ass gave you puppy-dog eyes. “What flavor did you make the macarons?”

“Didn’t you get to taste the batter that was on my cheek?” You jammed away any lingering feelings bringing up that little incident might have tried to rear.

“It wasn’t enough,” he squalled. “C’mon, just tell me!”

You shook your head. “You’ll just have to wait. I gotta leave something a surprise, don’t I?” You doubted it’d be hard to guess, since you hadn’t gone out to buy any new flavor extracts.

“No!” Satoru shouted at the same time as Suguru said (much more calmly), “yes.”

The two boys scowled at one another, devil and angel respectively, tugging you in two directions.

There was a vague memory that flashed behind your eyes, though you weren’t sure if it truly was one. An inception, a memory of a memory of a dream forgotten erstwhile. A snapshot of two boys arguing that bore a remarkable resemblance to the ones before you. A ball tightly gripped, a threat heavy, a silence haunting.

It was gone as apace as it came, ceding only a ghost of a memento to a past you did not live.

Boys, you carped internally. At this point, it was definitely possible Satoru would combust if he didn’t get to stuff his mouth with your baked goods. Lucky for him, they were finally ready to be assembled, a task that went by surprisingly speedily.

Probably because they had shut up and let you focus, rather than distracting you. Two rows of sandwich halves flipped over, generous dollops of frosting applied after you packed it into a baggie, the other halves placed on top, and–

“Voila!” You sang as you carried the plate of neatly piled rounds of pink to the island. “Bon appétit, mes messieurs. J'espère que vous l'appréciez.”

“Oooh, French,” Gojo swooned as he studied the plate. “Tryin’ to seduce us, pretty girl?”

You picked up on his unexpected patience, having expected him to dive for the snacks once presented. “So, now you’re taking your time?” You crossed your arms.

He shushed you – “did you just shush me!?” – as he canted his head this way and that, observing the coralish-red pastries from every angle. “This is a vital part of the process. I’m checking the quality–”

“Satoru, I will beat your ass.”

“–and appearance. Presentation is important, ya know?”

The raven on the next seat over smacked him upside the head. “Would it kill you to have some semblance of courtesy and respect? She baked for you, try to be polite for once.”

Satoru growled as he rubbed the spot he was hit. “It’s called honesty. Some view it as the ultimate form of kindness. I heard it from a wise man once.”

Suguru’s brow twitched, irked by his audacity. “You can’t just quote your own words and call yourself wise.”

“I can, will, and did,” he proclaimed as he picked up one of the sandwiches and popped it into his mouth. Didn’t even bother to nibble or take a diligent bite, nope, right down the hatch it went.

You swear your adrenaline spiked at his reaction.

Satoru moaned like a college girl getting her cunt licked for the first time, good lord. The sound genuinely caught you completely off guard, impressed by how high-pitched his voice could go. You knew you were good at making them, but you weren’t sure they were that toothsome.

“I take back everything I said,” he confessed around the confection, still moaning. “The wait was so much more than worth it.”

“There’s no need to exaggerate to show your appreciation, either, Satoru. It comes off as insincere,” Suguru sniffled as he plucked up a sugary sandwich and examined it, holding it between his fingers. It looked comically small in his large grasp. “Though, I’m sure that…”

You could visualize his words dying on his tongue as he took a nibble and stiffened in place, bewilderment dawning on him. Each character tumbled away, lost on the same path his train of thought vanished on.

Shit.

That response was bad. Right? It had to be bad, nothing joyous came from–

“Wow…”

“Right?” Satoru exclaimed loudly, clapping the man on the back. “Right!? And you thought I was exaggerating.”

“I stand corrected,” Suguru maundered. He stared down at his half-eaten food as if it held all the answers in the world.

Then proceeded to shove it in his mouth and snatch up a second one.

You were baffled, flattered, and skeptical. “You guys don’t have to pretend they’re good if you don’t like them.”

They paused mid-chew to pin you in place with their intense, dumbfounded veneration, and you regretted ever opening your mouth.

Gojo was acting like a man trapped in the middle of Death Valley during summer who stumbled across the one oasis that happened to not be a delusional mirage created from dehydration, heat stroke, and the blistering weather. His eyes, wide and unblinking, refused to move off of your face, like you’d just told him that, no, we can’t stop at the oasis for a sip of water.

Geto wasn’t any better. You got the sense that he would’ve taken less offense if you’d called his mother a monkey. Which is a hell of a leap, since you were talking about baked goods.

“You’re kidding, right?” Your host garbled around his food.

“You don’t have to act humble,” the other man disapproved. “These are really good. We aren’t lying.”

Your lips scrunched to the side in apprehension. Were they trying to spare your feelings? You were…distracted several times during the process. Maybe you added salt instead of sugar? Was powdered salt even a thing?

You wouldn’t know unless you tried them for yourself. You filched one, analyzed it, and took a cautious, tiny, itty-bitty nibble. Followed by a second, much larger chomp and released a relieved purl when nothing but berry treacliness met your tongue.

You weren’t a worldstar chef by any means, but, ugh, you did make some pretty rockin’ macarons.

Satoru and Suguru obviously shared your sentiment – the first one even more so, and he wasn’t shy about showing it. Were they worth sounding like he just had the best orgasm of his life? Debatable, but you weren’t going to take that away from him.

Sure, you were enabling his sweet tooth to hell and back, but it meant you got to stay under a safe roof and beneath the cushy blankets of the guest room bed.

His enjoyment was a reward in its own right, too.

You’d make these every day if he wanted, if only to see the gleam of the pure, intoxicated, glucose-induced high in his dilated pupils.

Sugar was to him what catnip was to a kitty. Which was a dangerous realization for you. You’d have to tread the line of confections-related conversations carefully, lest you land yourself a job as his personal at-home baker.

Which actually wasn’t all that bad of an idea. You’d get to chill in a mansion with a hot spring in the backyard, cozily nestled higher up in the valley. It was decently cloistered, you could forget the existence of that stack of sticks under your name, and, hey, you might get away with not needing to pay rent! Win-win for everyone involved.

No, you were not willing to discuss the logistics behind that. Let a girl daydream, ladies deserve to fantasize about the wildest shit. Like becoming a sugar baby without needing to do anything nefarious. Was it so wrong to want to be spoiled?

A little voice, high-pitched and frightened, clued you in on a little clause in any contract you might consider signing: do not tie me down.

Alright, a little rephrasing was needed, then: was it so wrong to want to be spoiled, without the risk of being forced to remain in that position indefinitely?

Normally, you experienced a tightness in your chest when those kinds of words filtered into your consciousness, making a sense of cold spread from your solar plexus to your fingertips. It instantly changed your mood, made you go from cheery to withdrawn.

Your soul housed a violent anathema whose sole purpose was to torment you with the notion that nowhere is safe. You can’t stay here, you can’t stay there, you can’t stay anywhere.

It reminded you of that one immortal snail hypothetical. No matter where you went, it would always follow you.

If that was the case, then, where was that feeling now?

The bickering boys in front of you, the idyllic mountains that curtained the shallow canyon, this cozy home and the terrifying one you owned, why didn’t they spur that fight-or-flight instinct in you? What was different about Japan, about this location?

Why did breathing feel so easy?

…How long would this sovranty last?

You elbowed aside that conversation for another time. You were going to enjoy every moment of this while you could. If you were at peace, you weren’t going to sabotage that. It was unique, foreign. No area, no city, no home had ever brought you this kind of emptiness in your head, and you were desperate to hold onto that feeling, to milk it dry.

Starting with this little moment of domesticity, sharing food with your…friends?

Friends. Friends who took a great liking to what you made with your own two hands.

You should sneak some away from Satoru to give to Granny, Shoko, and Utahime before he ate them all.

Oh, speaking of.

“Hey, Satoru,” you called out.

“Hm?”

“Are you and Iori-san exes?”

He ‘hah’d and Suguru coughed on his snack, nearly suffocating. “Nah, she wishes.”

You raised a brow. “She seems like she hates your guts.”

“She’s just jealous of my devilishly good features.”

Not trusting his story, you turned to Suguru, who was patting his chest. Bless the boy, he was always there to shed light on the truth.

With regards to making fun of Satoru, anyway.

“He antagonizes her,” he told you after choking down the frosting he partially inhaled. “Spends every second bullying and annoying her anytime they’re near each other. She also swings the other way.”

“Ahh, gotcha,” you thanked him, stepped over to Satoru, and flicked his forehead. You chided him as he clutched the spot with his hands and fussed dramatically. “Be nice to Iori-san!”

“Wh–” He glared up at you. “She’s just as mean! Why aren’t you shaming her?”

You planted your hands on your hips. “She’s your senior. Respect your elders.”

He jutted out his lower lip. “That’s so not fair. Aren’t elders supposed to be setting good examples for their kouhai? It’s her fault I’m like this!”

You and Suguru displayed twin deadpan lours. Raised brows, narrowed eyes, the whole nine yards.

Satoru grimaced. “Ugh, ew, don’t do that, that’s creepy.”

“What’s creepy?” You asked, perplexed.

“You two are matching, it’s weird.”

Suguru gave you a sidelong glance that you returned, judging the validity of Satoru’s claim.

You cracked first.

The edges of your mouth twitched and you pressed them together into a thin line, jaw tensing as you tried to maintain your composure. The corner of his mouth pulled up a millimeter and you popped, giggling against your hand as you faced away.

He shook his head and chuckled, the noise balmy and charming.

An amicable silence fell between the three of you, filled only with muted chewing and the occasional appreciative drone.

It may well have been inadvisable on your part to fall under the spell of the alluring siren that called you to drown in the depths of comfortable mundanity, to breathe in liquid mercury in the form of idle acceptance, but how could you not?

When you had two magnetic entities drawing you in, giving you a taste of something so normal and natural when all you’d ever known before was diffidence, could you really be blamed for willingly closing your eyes and falling backwards off the cliff that once kept your footing stable? Could you be faulted for the rush of pure adrenaline that coursed through your veins when you gave in after resisting for so long and got to feel the wind bosoming your form the way a lover would?

You knew the ground was speeding up to break your fall, to eviscerate you, turn you into dust made of microscopic shards of glass, but you had plenty of time to pull the cord to your parachute. A little indulgence never hurt.

Right?

─────•(-•ʚɞ•-)•─────

“Good girl,” a voice murmured in your ear, sultry and seductive, praising you while you suckled lewdly on a pair of fingers that tasted sweet and rich and distinctly of berries. It sent chills all over your body, from your scalp, down your spine, all the way to your curled toes. “So needy, aren’t you?”

You nodded vehemently, breath hitching as plush lips traced the curve of your ear. You sucked harder, laving your tongue around and between the prodding appendages.

A different voice, no less enchanting and blazing, came from the figure that draped himself across your back, one arm wrapped around your midsection, his skin igneous against yours. “Greedy brat,” he cooed, his tresses of ivory tickling your temple and cheek. He slowly pulled his soaked fingers from your mouth, spreading them to display your saliva webbing between. “Just one man isn’t enough for you, huh? Need two to cure your insatiability? To fuck you stupid?”

“I–” you gasped, words caught in the back of your throat and fizzling away when his warm hand grasped your breast, wet digits pinching your nipple between his index and middle fingers. “Oh– fuck.”

Black kite eyes occupied your blurry vision, a bewitching smile lifting the corners of his lips. He came off as virtuous, a god amongst men, but the pure and raw hunger in his eyes promised only your corruption.

A fallen angel, a deity that chose to paint his feathers midnight, to dive into the allure of sacrilege and build a throne for himself to sit upon. He chose to rule over this ungodly land of heathens and desires. To pull you down to the depths with him, that was his purpose.

His eyes vowed to drown you in them, to make you as lecherous for them as they were for you. To make you yearn and crave and need them. To have them pressed against your body, invading your veins, speaking sweet nothings into the bottomless, most primal part of you until you could think of nothing and no one but them.

His scorching fixation drew you to him, the elfin star reaching to be coaxed into his gravity, to be torn apart at the atoms by his bare hands.

The presence behind you was just as cosmic, tugging you the other way, trapped within a binary astral system that encircled you until all you knew, and would ever need to know, was their names. You were ensnared in their push and pull, hands held by each of theirs, pressed between leviathan celestial bodies, and there was nowhere else you’d rather to be.

You were Persephone to their Hades, both holding one half of the same pomegranate, tempting you to bite into each. A silent urge to sink your teeth into the rich fruit, let the acidic, covenant-binding juice of gods flow into your core, spread through your entire being until you belonged to them and they belonged to you.

You hungered for it, wished to see and feel the coquelicot essence of the berry spill from your lips, curve over your chin, drip onto your bare breasts like fresh blood.

You wished to have their tongues on your flesh, licking the circumfluous juice as if it was the ichor of life itself.

Deft hands slipped between your thighs, prying them apart. Cool air brushed against your flushed, dripping womanhood, drawing a sharp inhale from you. You squirmed when the hand on your breast shifted to tease and torment your other nipple, the arm still holding your midsection loosening enough to allow strumming fingers to walk down your stomach.

Past your navel, across your womb, over your mons, until–

You chirped when the pad of his middle finger slid through your heavily slicked folds and pressed directly onto your hypersensitive clit, lightly pushing back the hood to expose more of it, all on display for the raven before you.

The swan chuckled deeply against your back, sending the vibrations directly through your ribs and into your stuttering heart. “So sensitive,” he drawled, nipping at your pulse through the tender skin of your throat. “We barely even touched you and you’re already soaked, princess.”

Firm palms massaged your thighs, ensuring they stayed open, forbidding you from covering yourself. You were theirs to watch, to toy with, to covet and fuck and ruin.

“Our poor, pretty angel. Desperate,” a wicked laugh escaped from lush lips that hovered just over your own, so close yet so far beyond reach.

“P-Please,” you shivered and whined when the finger on your burning, twitching button circled it lazily. “Fu-uck.”

“Use your words, sweetheart,” one of them instructed you – you no longer knew where they began and you ended. “Tell us what you want, and we might reward you.”

You took in a shaky, uneven breath, attempting to steady your voice. Hell, to find it at all. “Y-You. Need you. Please, gods– ah!”

“Which one, love?”

“Both! Both– both of you,” you choked out, bucking your hips against the hand cupping your heat. It wasn’t enough, you needed more, you needed them. All of them, every inch, every fraction of their beings melding with yours.

“Really, now?” A hot breath fluttered over your ear. “Such a spoiled little lover. Are you sure you can handle both of us?”

“Yes– oh, god – yes, please, ple-ase!”

You could feel their voices more than you could hear. One’s chest was flush to your spine, your nails digging into his forearms. The other breathed your air and gifted you with his own, a promise that you were only able to fill your lungs with oxygen because he allowed it.

This was hell. It had to be. They were so close, so fucking close, but they weren’t giving you what you wanted. You asked so nicely, begged them, you were impatient, aching for them to the point it hurt.

“If you say so,” he – who? – huffed, amused. “Let’s find out, shall we?”

Their warmth and scents mixed with your own, blistering against your damp skin, scalding you from the inside out, and how ready you were to plunge into the waves of magma below. You were doomed the very moment you said yes, from the second your eyes met theirs. You were destined to fall from the heavens into their cocooning embrace, and you willingly leapt from the clouds, chasing after them where they awaited you with open arms.

The set of fingers on your clit left to graze your entrance in ringlets that were far too languid for your liking; another grasped your chin between them, tilting your head up to peer into vortices of lust, venery, and depravity, threatening to suck you in and never let you leave.

What they didn’t say in words, they commanded with their searing idées fixe; they molded you into the perfect doll for them, the captivating nymph that curled her fingers towards herself, luring them to join her in the goddess’ blessed pond.

He leaned in, his soft pants fanning over your lips, right there, a millimeter more, almost–

You startled awake with a gasp, shooting upright onto your palms as you struggled to inhale and exhale properly. A thin sheen of sweat covered your entire body, making your exposed skin shimmer under the moonlight pouring in from your window.

Your heart raced in your chest, and you took long seconds to grasp your bearings and figure out exactly what occurred. Your heavy lids batted, trying to ease the grit from them. Everything remained fuzzy, recollection failing you…

As you began to calm down, you shifted your legs and abruptly stopped, cringing. The answer came like a slap to your tit.

You weren’t just wet, you were submerged.

Someone could squeeze water out of a rag and it'd still be less wet than you. You were utterly sopping, soaked right through your panties, a sticky mess of slick coating your pussy and the insides of your thighs.

Great.

This forsaken song and dance again.

Your cunt throbbed, clenching and mourning the loss of your high. Your nipples were painfully stiff, your clit screamed for attention, and all you could do was fall back on the bed and spread out your arms in defeat.

A wet dream. You had a fucking wet dream. And not just any wet dream, no, of course not. Nothing in life was ever simple. Not for you, never for you.

You groaned and pressed your hands against your face, trying to wrest away the image of Suguru and Satoru drawing you thin between them, turning you into a babbling, pleading mess, pining for the attention of your gods. The heels of your palms dug into your eyes until spots appeared, but all that did was make the images more clear.

Hell. Now what?

Feeling particularly uncomfortable, you chose to start by shimmying your panties off and tossing them into your hamper without getting up, exhaling heavily as you glowered at nothing in particular and zoned out.

Sure, you could try to go back to sleep, pretend it was possible and that you’d return to happy, not-lewd dreamland, act like your disgustingly blasphemous subconscious didn’t create the hottest dream you’ve ever had, but you knew that wasn’t going to work.

You grabbed your phone and squinted at the screen when you checked the time. 4:17 AM. Taking a bath at this hour would probably wake someone in the house. The better option was to grab a hand towel and use the sink to wipe yourself off, then lay awake and scroll mindlessly through your phone until you inevitably passed back out.

But…you felt so empty. And so fucking horny, it genuinely hurt. You didn’t know it was even possible to get this aroused, and you were paying the cost for it.

You worried your bottom lip between your teeth, nipping at the dry skin. Your fingers twitched at your side, fighting a war, debating.

…Once would be okay, right? Just once, to fix yourself up and get rid of any lingering ideas you had about the two boys. Yeah, that was okay. Probably. It’s not like they were going to know anyway, and you could go back to sleep after you took care of your…needs, then wake up as if none of this ever happened.

Alright. Yeah. Yeah, that’s fine. That’s the plan.

You swallowed thickly, noticing how viciously parched you were, but that could wait until you were done.

Your fingers tapped apprehensively against your stomach, yenning yet still uncertain. They trailed lower and lower, following the same path from your belly button to the apex of your thighs Satoru had taken in your delusion. A quickie. You’d be fast, and then forget this entirely.

You sucked in a hiss through your clenched teeth when your icy fingers brushed against your tender, swollen clit that was weeping for attention. Jesus, when was the last time you were this sore? This irriguous? Had you ever been?

You couldn’t tell if your fingers being cold made it worse or better. You weren’t sure why they were so frigid when the rest of you was combusting. All you could remember was a large, warm hand and addicting digits toying with you. This simply wasn’t sufficient in comparison – quite literally opposite in every way – but it was all you had to work with, so it would need to do.

You swore as you began rubbing the ticklish bundle in quick circles, your free hand swiftly shoving itself under your shirt to grasp your breast. You pinched, tugged, and twisted your nipple between your thumb and forefinger, lamenting the lack of satisfaction. It wasn’t fucking enough. Your digits felt too stiff, too glacial, for what you really wanted – what you urgently, critically, dolorously required.

You rubbed faster, pressed that sorry little nub down harder, dug your nails into your nipple, Christ, you were going to cry.

Why, why, why? You were right fucking there, on the cusp, more than ready to tumble off the cliff and let the swift fall break you into a million pieces.

Please, please, please! Please, fuck, just let me cum!

What were you missing? You had no trouble with this in the past, your hand was your best friend, now it was betraying you. Was your cunt too slippery? Was the frost of your touch driving your orgasm away? What was–

Your stilled as a sinful, dreadful thought crossed your mind.

This…all of this was caused by them. Not directly, but by proxy. It was because you were dreaming of them that you landed in this messy, painful spot. Your body forced you out of your own dream, effectively cutting off your lifeline of pleasure.

So, what if you…

You shook your head, winced, reconsidered, then repeated that process about a dozen more times. If you vowed that all this would remain here, in this moment, then there wasn’t really any harm in it, no?

You squeezed your eyes shut tight and slowly picked up the pace again, squirming under your own ministrations. You let yourself draw pictures behind your lids, visualizing the pair of boys, pretending it was their hands on you instead of your own. You picked up where your dream left off, the tick before Suguru’s lips were on yours.

His hands massaging your thighs, teeth nipping at the tip of your tongue, kurobeni locks tickling your forehead and cheeks – it was shockingly realistic in sensation.

Satoru was playing your body like a harp, drawing and pulling on the threads of your being, strumming them until he was the reason you were writhing and panting and moaning in subdued notes on your bed that took more effort to contain than you’d ever care to admit.

Your high came mind-numbingly soon. Where you had been trying to wrench it from yourself with immense difficulty a minute ago, now you were teetering over the edge. You only had to do a smidgen more to reach your freefall.

It came naturally to you.

Whined, breathy, pitchy, louder than you had any permission to be, you uttered the two names that sent you careening from elysium’s clouds.

“Mmph– S-Sat-toru, Sugu–”

You were fairly certain you saw the eternal gardens of Eden somewhere between that nanosecond and the next.

You broke like an over tightened violin bow, the hand twinging your tit shooting up through the collar of your shirt to slam against your mouth barely in time to muffle the piercing cry that tried to fly out from your bitten lips. Your muscles tensed, trembling violently. Your hips bucked against your hand, your back curved further than you thought possible, and your pussy squeezed around nothing so tightly that you believed if anything had been inside you, your pelvic floor would have cut off its circulation.

You rode out your ascent and dive for as long as you could, dragging it out with unsteady, arrhythmic, back-and-forth massaging on your twitching, overstimulated button until you lost all steam and flopped back onto the mattress, hands separating from your body like glue.

You panted heavily, staring up at the ceiling blankly, sprawled out as you tried to catch your breath. Your head was empty, limbs still shivering with aftershocks of the strongest orgasm you’ve had in a while.

You brought your arm over your face, watching your fingers glisten with your slick as you wiggled them around. The wetness sticking to your cunt and thighs was growing more and more uncomfortable by the second, too slippery without purpose for being so. The sheer amount of honey you produced was a disturbance on its own, but now you had to deal with the mess you made between your legs, on top of your post-nut clarity.

You needed God.

“What is wrong with me…” You mumbled as you rolled over to climb off the bed, feeling particularly disgusted with yourself. How the hell were you supposed to face Satoru and Suguru now that you had rubbed yourself off to the thought of not one, but both of them?

Shit, all of this because of that godsforsaken dream.

You shuddered, heat flashing through your body at the memory, and you quickly smothered the kindling. You weren’t hankering for a second orgasm at this time.

You wiggled off the edge and eased yourself onto rickety legs, using the mattress for support while you gained back your strength. You turned cautiously to check the sheets, and nearly collapsed in relief when you found no evidence of the heinous crime you just committed atop it.

God bless, you wouldn’t have to deal with trying to sneak the sheets into the laundry without getting caught, or come up with a passable lie to explain that the oddly damp and sticky patch wasn’t the remnants of your orgasm, nuh-uh, nope, not at all.

You weren’t a very good liar when put on the spot.

Little victories.

You crept around, tugging the hem of your shirt down over your thighs as you located things to freshen up with, thankful that the article of clothing was long and baggy enough to cover your shame. The moon, round and silver, lit up your room a smidge too clearly for your liking. You really didn’t want to see yourself in any way for the time being.

The hall, unlike your room, was sorely lacking in light.

With a small towel and a change of panties in hand, you carefully eased open your door, and glanced both ways like you were a child sneaking off to steal candy from the kitchen. It was crepuscular as fuck, but you had to ensure there wasn’t anyone who could see in the dark. Unreasonable line of thought, but who cares.

Coast clear.

You booked it towards the bathroom on the tips of your toes, rushing as soundlessly as you could to dive behind the door to safety. You didn’t let yourself breathe until you closed and locked the barrier with minimal noise. Mission successful.

Your eyes squeezed shut at the suddenness of the bright light flooding the bathroom when you flicked the light switch, your fingers scurrying to hit the dimmer and un-blind yourself. Bleh. Pain.

After your eyes adjusted to the light, you took one glance at yourself in the mirror, in all your mussed-up-hair and flushed-cheek glory, and instantly swiveled your head away. If your face wasn’t burning before, it certainly was now.

Your reflection would just have to remain a mystery until you could stand to look yourself in the eyes again. Which could take a long while.

“You depraved bitch,” you muttered to yourself scornfully as you turned on the sink, waited until the water was hot, and dunked the towel in it. “Goddamn slut. One was bad enough, but two?”

You worked quickly to wipe the tacky smears from your skin at the crest of your thighs, fussing and reprimanding yourself all the way through.

Unfortunately, as much as you wanted it, your shower would have to wait until morning. You feared boiling the shame off your flesh at this hour would be too conspicuous. You grimaced as the fibers of the cloth rubbed a smidge too harshly against your tender sensory nerves, and you took extra care to not aggravate your horniness again.

The band of your panties snapped against your hips, grounding you further, and you decided you’d been punished enough (for now).

Back in your room, you flopped onto the bed face down, abnormally fatigued. The forbidden rendezvous in the eclipse of the waking world and following nutty nut (heh) wiped you out from head to toe. Not bothering to pull the blanket back over your yet-to-cool-down figure, you nuzzled into your pillow, and conked the hell out.

─────•(-•ʚɞ•-)•─────

You had mixed feelings on how rested you felt when you woke up.

On one hand, it was delightful to open your eyes and feel energized after a yawn and a ferocious cat stretch, but the way you got there made it feel like an undeserved good night’s sleep.

You mulled over it as you zoned out in front of the pot on the stove while you waited for the buckwheat you tossed in to finish cooking.

Technically speaking, you did use the boys to get your rocks off, but could that really qualify for the ‘morally incorrect’ category when it was not soundly your fault? It’s not like you sat down and had a heart-to-heart discussion with your brain and pussy about giving into your perversion within the safety of your insanity.

Okay, insanity was a stretch, and definitely an over exaggeration, but it was your best excuse. Some cog had to have been knocked loose in your thick skull for you to succumb to your cravings the way you did.

Or, you know, you argued with yourself, maybe it’s because you live with a stupidly hot guy and he has a stupidly hot best friend? Is it really so hard to imagine you’d get horny over a couple of model-worthy men?

Yes. Yes, it is.

You ran your hand through your hair as you switched off the heat on the stove, deeming the seed ready, and retrieved a bowl from a nearby cupboard.

You weren’t one to fall so low. If you masturbated to anyone, which was already rare as gold, it was some rando on a porn site. You didn’t know them, they didn’t know you – hell, they didn’t know you existed for starters. Free content without being perceived, win-win for everyone.

What curse infected your system last night to make you do the things you did?

Gods, it was a really good orgasm, though.

It sat on the forefront of your mind the whole morning as you went through your routine. As you showered, got dressed, washed your face, brushed your teeth, and now, as you made what was basically brunch given the hour. You were having a tug-of-war with yourself, which was cool and all, but why the hell were Satoru and Suguru the ones on your shoulders debating your moral compass?

Debating was generous. It was more so Suguru reassuring you, telling you that it was alright, just a miscue in your judgement, everyone had a moment like that at least once or twice in their life. Satoru, meanwhile, took great delight in howling like an incubus and teasing you relentlessly about your misfortune.

Neither were actively discouraging you from being a degenerate, but you pined for death regardless.

Unintelligible inveighs spilled from your lips, aimed at nobody in particular as you scooped the buckwheat into your bowl, poured milk in with it, and sprinkled sugar overtop. You were mildly gratified to see Gojo had the seed, as your childhood comfort meal would aid in overcoming your newfound psychological complications.

“What's that?” Gojo's voice scared the balls off you as he spoke directly into your ear, bowing over your back. You physically felt them pop off and roll away like wayward marbles, never to be seen again.

Metaphorically. And–

Oh, god, Gojo.

How the hell does a giraffe manage to move around like a mouse?

You can do this. This is fine. You totally didn’t have a sex dream about him and his best friend, not at all, how could anyone dare to think so? You only had to act normal. Act good, this was normal, you were normal. It wasn't weird. It's only weird if you make it w–

“Buckwheat cereal,” your mouth answered for you. You suppressed the urge to sag in relief when nothing atrocious came out of it. “It's good for you.”

“...Explain.”

You angled your head to face him, fighting down the gasp and blush that wanted to spark to life at his proximity. Oh, he was, like, right there. “It's cereal…but with buckwheat.”

A frown marred his pretty face. “Is it sweet?”

“To everyone's taste. But for how I make mine, yes.”

“Lemme try.”

Your body moved on its own without any instruction – or permission – from your nervous system. You scooped up a spoonful of the cereal and brought it to his mouth as he stayed positioned behind you.

Which was a horrible fucking mistake.

His hands grasped your hips to hold you steady as he actually said ‘nom’ and closed his luscious, puffy, pink lips around the utensil.

Oh, my god.

If you thought the dream was bad.

He pulled away from it, though didn't retract his hands as he contemplated your choice in food, chewing slowly. He gulped too freaking loud, and beamed childishly. “More.”

You scoffed and lightly bumped your hips back into his, pulling a muffled grunt from him (oops). “Get your own. There's plenty on the stove.”

You weren’t sure if it was reprieve or disappointment that filled you when he released you and stepped away, inspecting the pot on the stove. “How do you make it?”

“Scoop some into a bowl, add milk and sugar. Boom, buckwheat cereal.”

“Is it really that simple?”

You snorted. “Yes, Satoru, it is. The only ‘hard’ part is cooking the ‘wheat itself, which is kinda like making rice.”

“Huh,” the boy vocalized as he followed your instructions. “Won’t the milk make it cold, though? Or is it supposed to be?”

“Again, it’s to everyone’s taste. You can heat up the milk if you want it to be warm. Buckwheat is surprisingly versatile,” you briefed. “High in fiber, antioxidants, anti-inflammatory, and – now that I think about it, it could be especially good for you, since it can help manage blood sugar levels.”

“Nerd,” he quipped.

You scoffed as you spooned some into your mouth and oh shit, oh fuck, this was the same spoon he used, was this an indirect kiss? Was this weird? He didn’t seem to care as he grabbed his own utensil and propped himself up against the counter with his lower back.

This is fine, you said as you banged your head repeatedly on the walls of your mental prison.

Pretend, pretend, pretend. Confidence was basically just really good lying. “Excuse me for being weirdly curious and just collecting random fun facts.”

He quirked a brow, eating up his own bowl. “Oh, that’s it?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Satoru plainly shrugged. “Thought you might have been someone obsessed with nutrition facts or something.”

“I mean, I try to be a little careful about what I eat, but I’m not gonna sit and make calculations on every little thing I shove down my throat.”

A cruel sort of evilness curled the corners of his lips. “Is that so?”

You were going to shoot him one of these days for making you nearly inhale a kernel. Figuratively, duh, but nevertheless. Or perhaps literally. Whichever came first.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re annoying?” You probed.

His grin grew, as if this was something he was proud of. “Plenty, but none as cute as you.”

What a novel and unique method for making your cereal hot, using you as a human fucking conductor. No wonder the messy thing between your legs controlled your subconscious. It was Satoru’s fault all along.

You felt a mite less guilty about using his face as spank bank material.

“I’ll add ‘incorrigible flirt’ to the record, then,” you chuntered.

“And ‘good looks’,” he inputted.

You mimed writing. “E-go-tis-tic and con-cei-ted…”

“Oi!” He jutted out his lower lip. “O’, cruel temptress, you wound this one. You’re lucky I like you.”

A sizable chunk of your food attempted to get stuck in your throat, forced down only by sheer will alone. You froze, waiting for the world to collapse, for the walls to cave in, for the adrenaline to drown you in anxiety, for the air-raid sirens to start blaring. You waited, and waited, and waited.

Nothing came from his confession. It was a light, playful thing, sort of meaningless in the grand scheme of things. Your fight-or-flight had been triggered by less before, but…

Two seconds was all you allowed yourself to hesitate for, lest you look the fool. Two seconds of atypical…normalcy.

“You’ve known me for, what, three days?” You pointed out.

Satoru scraped up the last bit of his food and placed the bowl down to rest his weight on his elbows that he set on the marble surface behind him. “I’ve got good instincts. Gut feeling says you’re interesting, and I like your vibes. That’s all I need,” he disclosed.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel the same way. He was…easy, for lack of a better word. Talking to him came effortlessly, with lively chatter and content silence in the gaps between conversations.

Trust your gut instincts.

“Feeling’s mutual,” you admitted, softer.

That earned you a brilliant smile, stretched from ear to ear, and it made something docile and tender flutter in your heart. Not the rapid palpitations of attraction or flusteredness, no. Rather, it resembled a tea light, something mellow and snug.

Seeing him happy makes you happy.

You didn’t get long to dwell on it. “Hey, you still wanna use the onsen?”

His invitation wiped out all your brooding thoughts like a whipping gale, replacing it all with sheer zeal and glee. The moment you’d been waiting for! Now you didn’t have to awkwardly ask!

“Uh, yes? Hello? Is that even a question?” You gawked.

The pale-haired man simpered as he took your bowl from you – oh, when did that get empty? – and nodded towards your room. “Got a swimsuit?”

Thank the ever blooming stars above, you did.

“Yes!” It was taking everything in you to not start bouncing around like an overjoyed rabbit. The urge to zoomies was strong with this one.

“Great! There’s a shower outside and on the right, just past the partition when you go out the back,” he instructed. “Tradition calls for bathing in the nude, but I’ll spare you from that this time.”

Fuck ye– this time?

You were already moving along, shouting a high pitched ‘thank you!’ over your shoulder as you darted towards your room to retrieve a towel and your bathing suit, forfeiting your chance to voice that concern aloud. He was likely teasing you anyhow, and there was only so much flirting you could take before you’d combust.

You had no intention of testing your mental fortitude. Not until you got to turn into a boneless puddle of jelly beans in the onsen.

Was there some way to see a scoreboard of your times for ripping off your clothes? Because you were fairly certain this time would contend for first place with the time you tried the shower here for the first time. And, on top of that, you know that cute swimsuit you got eons ago, thinking you’d have a ‘hot girl summer’, only to never once wear it? You finally had a reason to pull it on and pose in front of the mirror in your room!

A tad late (or early?) for a hot girl summer, but damn, you looked good.

Satoru was nowhere to be seen when you skedaddled out of your as-of-current sanctuary, which permitted you to jog across the house to the back door on your tiptoes like a villain in a cartoon. You even did the evil little giggle, too.

The trees surrounding the backyard provided abundant protection from any potential gales, but the shade they shed made goosebumps rise all over your body from the chill, urging you to speed over to where the outdoor shower was to race your ass into the hot spring.

The shower itself was gorgeous. Dark, slat-wood tiles acted as protective walls, giving you decent privacy for a quick rinse. And the water?

Heaven.

Your only experience with outdoor showers before had been those super shitty beach ones, the type that half-sprayed, half-poured freezing cold water on you that did fuck all to get any sand or dirt off you. Plus, they were out in the middle of the beach anyway, so you’d end up getting sand on your soles afterwards anyway.

You were not expecting the water to be heated, or the ground to be free of debris (how far your standards have fallen), or anything beyond just a pole that water came out of.

Rich people. You gotta suck up to them more often, dignity be damned.

But you had a delightful bonus! You didn’t have to suck up to Satoru for these benefits! It remained to be seen what you would have to do after your free trial expired, but three days in, and you were more than ready to suck his dick to keep sitting pretty and living the life.

Okay, too far, but could you be blamed?

No. Most certainly not. No, you were not open for debate on this. You knew anyone else would think the same.

You hosed yourself down as thoroughly as your impatient self could handle, lest you perish before you got the chance to get a taste of rapture. Apparently, though, Satoru was faster.

Shock-white hair, dripping at the tips that had already begun collecting steam, alerted you to his presence as you tossed your towel onto a nearby bench. You had turned into a shivering mess in the seconds it took you to walk over and you were greatly looking forward to the deliciously painful sting that came from transitioning into hot water while cold.

He tilted his head back with that giraffe neck of his, the curious ‘oh’ of his mouth maturing into a smirk big enough to make dimples appear in his cheeks.

“There you are!” He called out. “You took forever, thought you slipped and died or something. Get in already, the temp is purrrrfect.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” you retorted as you sat down on the edge of the basin and dipped your feet in, hissed like a demonic cat wrangled from hell, then slipped in completely. Shudders wracked up your entire body, scalding you from head to toe – ah, but then, bliss. “Fuuuckkk…”

“Feels good, right?” He chortled and you nodded, your eyes slipping shut.

“God, it feels so good,” you slurred out contentedly as you sank down lower into the wonderfully hot piscina. You set the underside of the back of your skull on the ledge behind you and let yourself turn into a happy little jellyfish. “You’re so lucky.”

Satoru scoffed. You peeked one eye open. “I don’t actually get the chance to use it all that much nowadays.”

Your lips pursed in a pout. “Why not? You rich kids don’t have to work, right?”

“I am the heir to the Gojo clan,” he reinformed you. “My dad’s still kickin’, so he does all the major shit, thankfully, but I basically have to be on-call. Boring ass meetings, talking to even more boring ass people about,” he rotated his hand in a general all of this motion, “boring ass shit.”

You sat up properly, suddenly hyper aware of your position and whose company you were in. “Is it difficult?”

He tipped his head side to side, working out a crick. “Eh, nothing I can’t handle. I’ve known I’ll eventually inherit the family business since I was a kid, so I’ve been exposed to it all pretty much since the day I could walk.”

Guilt was knocking on the door of your sternum. Lifelong misconceptions of trust fund babies led you to have a mild prejudice against them. Social media didn’t help, with all sorts of platforms hosting blogs for the filthy rich who posted all hours of the day. Were all rich kids destined for the same, or was it only a few, like Satoru?

How could a petty commoner like you ever hope to understand?

You could start by learning.

“What’s the family business, if you don’t mind me asking?” You scooted closer.

“Politics,” he said as he propped his arms up on the stone behind him. “Like I said, boring shit.”

Ugh, politics. No wonder he was so disinterested, you would be, too. “How long has your clan been around?”

He blew air out past his lips, counting in his head. “Some one-thousand years, I think?”

“Yeesh,” you fluttered your lashes. “So you come from old old money, huh?”

“Ee-yup, pretty much,” he crooned, doing a complete flip in attitude from ennui to playing the part of charmer. “Which means I have plenty to spoil you with, pretty girl.”

You rolled your eyes and cupped water in your hands to splash him. He bayed in offense and splashed you right back, soaking your hair and face aggressively. He cackled like a mad man as you wiped the mineral water off your scowling features. That didn’t count, his hands were way bigger than yours.

He dipped a finger under one lens of his shades, rubbing away whatever liquid had gotten caught beneath, giving you the perfect segue to probe about them.

“Why are you wearing those glasses all the time? Can you even see through them with all this steam?” You inquired skeptically.

Satoru tapped his left cheek. “Sensitive eyes.”

“Or,” you proposed an alternative, because that was too easy, “you’re hiding something.”

His lips spread in a compelling grin. “Why don’t you come and find out?”

Don’t mind if I do.

You reached for his sunglasses, wiggling your fingers like you were about to cast some spell on him with a witchy smile. You expected him to maneuver away, angle his head so you couldn't actually get them, but he surprised you when he let you take them without any struggle.

You slid them off the bridge of his nose, fingertips brushing porcelain skin, and revealed the true hue of his eyes to you for the first time.

Your breath left your chest in a swift exhale, the vacuum of space stealing the air from your lungs.

You recalled what you thought of the sky the first time you had seen it from Satoru’s backyard, through a seamlessly cut circle sitting above the treeline. You remembered how you thought it was the brightest blue you had ever seen.

You took it all back.

This was the brightest blue you’d ever seen.

Prismatic eyes peered back at you, shimmering and shifting between shades of an early winter morning and oceanic depths, galvanic and otherworldly. You didn’t know how it was possible to have irises so vibrant and enthralling, how they caught the light and shattered it infinitesimally, scattering and dancing about like glittering snow. You swore that if you sought hard enough, you could see the crystalline shards glisten like rainbows whenever rays of luminescence caught them at the right angle.

At their darkest, they were cresting, bioluminescent waves crashing over the shore of a chilly evening on a beach, or a bouquet of blue orchids, or the celestial eons above when they began to shift from midnight to dawn, before the sun had awoken.

At their lightest, they were diamonds, multifaceted and nearly iridescent. The shimmering of a fairy’s wings, the first sip of spring, the water of the everblue hot spring behind his home as it subsumed you – calming, serene, warm. You yearned to take a deep breath, dive under the water’s cusp, and remain there forever.

A seraphim’s wings beat, thousands of eyes blessing with eldritch purity, each centered on you.

From the cascading snowdrift of his nitrogen-dipped lashes flocked with millions of ice crystals, to the gems he called irises, down to the voids of his pupils as they dilated, consuming pools of excruciating delphinium into trenchant rings.

They threatened to sink and drown you in their zeros, to poison you with a drop added to your wine, and you'd swallow all of it down in large swigs and thank him for it. You’d do anything to feel his hyperborean venom in your bloodstream.

You wondered if they collected sunlight during the day and glowed in the pitch of night, reflecting like vitreous ponds filled with veiled secrets known only to gods and the man in front of you, the one that ruled above them all.

He could make the boughs of celestia bend and lower for him, as if kneeling to respect their king. He could buckle any will with just a brief coup d'œil, make the strongest, most powerful people grovel at his feet, make the choirs of the universe sing for him and him alone, anything he desired.

But, he chose to lay his sights on you with playful mirth and gleaming excitement glissading within them.

“Careful, princess,” he preened, migrating towards you, a hunter stalking his prey. “Keep looking at me like that and I might get shy.”

Speckles of sweat slipped off the high curves of his cheekbones, dotting his forehead and temples, plastering his lily-white hair to his fair skin, and you decided on the spot that you were a slave to Gojo Satoru.

Ruin me.

Your lips tingled, parted as you beheld him in latria, begging to feel his upon yours. He was there, nearing, close, closer, closer–

“Ah, there you two are,” you jumped away from Satoru like he was a scorching bonfire you nearly leapt head first into, Suguru’s voice snapping you out of your muzzy revere.

You could have sworn you heard the boy you so nearly touched swear something foul under his breath, but you were too busy dying inside to pay attention. You whipped around, your fingers clasping the rocky shelf of the spring hard enough to break through it, gripping to it for dear life. Focusing on Geto as he approached grounded you and gave you a modicum of the stability you needed to recover because holy shit, you were about to kiss his best friend, what the hell is wrong with you.

“I heard back from Uncle Han,” Suguru updated you as he took a knee on the mildly damp stone in front of where you were peeking up from the hot spring. “He’s an acquaintance in the construction business. He said he can come over sometime tomorrow morning to inspect your house, just to see the condition it’s in. He won’t have any free hands soon, but if the thing is in a decent enough state, we could get started on it ourselves.”

“‘We’?” You tilted your head askance.

He raised a brow. “Yes, we. You, Satoru, me. What, did you think we were going to let you do it alone?”

“It’s just…” You chewed the inside of your cheek. “I don’t know how much to pay you.”

“Pay us?”

“Yeah,” you flicked your sight between him and Satoru. “Plus, I’d feel bad making you work for me.”

His forehead creased as if you were saying something completely absurd. “Who said that we’re charging you, or that you’re making us work for you?”

Now it was your turn to be taken aback. “Uh, because it’s labor? Aren’t you guys busy?”

Suguru arched forward a fraction, maintaining intense eye contact that refused to abate, seriousness etched into the tempered chocolate of his optics. They demanded your full attention, an unspoken command to meet his gaze and never look away unless he gave you permission.

You feared he never would – or, perhaps, wished.

“Satoru spends most of his days like a spoon-fed child who only has to occasionally go out of town to assist his dad, or fill out some paperwork when Gojo-san is too overwhelmed. I help out my folks with their farm in the mornings and sometimes an hour or two after noon. We have more free time than we know what to do with.”

Satoru sidled up to you, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you into his side. Everywhere his skin touched yours burned, hotter than the prickling, fervid loch submerging you below your ribcage. His beaming face entered your field of view, brilliant azures drowning out the rest of the world until only butterfly pea and black tea remained.

“It’ll be fun!” He touted, fingers squeezing your hip affectionately. “Tall, dark, and stupid over here’s right, we’ve been needing something to do.”

Mr. Tall, Dark, and Stupid’s expression dropped into a vexed glare. “Eat a dick and die, Satoru.”

“You first.”

“I’ll drown you in there.”

“Not if I strangle you.”

“Good luck reaching me, shitstick.”

As entertaining as their bickering was, you needed to say something before the very important conversation got completely swept away. You reached up to touch the dark-haired man’s hand as it hung lazily over his raised thigh, but stopped short when you saw liquid drip off your wrist. You didn’t want to get him wet, so you used that hand to draw his attention with a downward wave of your digits.

“Thank you, Geto,” the outer corners of your eyes crinkled.

His bristled temper died down, ire replaced with an irrefutable fondness in the gaze he directed at you. His hand flipped over and clasped yours, preventing you from withdrawing, unbothered by the dampness clinging to your heated palm.

He looked at you like you were the only soul worthy of seeing the curve of his lips draw upwards to match yours, the only one whose knuckles he’d lift to graze a featherlight kiss to, the only one who’d be able to coax an unseen side from him without a fight, needing only to merely whisper his name.

Sealed with a velvety promise when it spilled from his tongue into the space reserved for you, them, and no other.

“Suguru.”

banner by cafekitsune ♥

taglist: @kimi01985

#Tether Me #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #satoru x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #geto x reader #suguru x reader #geto suguru x reader #suguru geto x reader #satosugu x reader #chimera writes

94 notes · View notes