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moon7jay · 4 months

Note

Can u make a jake or( whatever member u want)make up sex ? If not it's okay! 💗🐣

Ofc I can bb 🫶actually was already working on a hurt comfort fic before you requested it

love on you (s.jy)

Idol!jake x artist!reader

Warnings : angst ,hurt-comfort, smut, fluff, reader is insecure

Wc : 4.5k

"Man you didn't tell us y/n won an award wtf" jay's words sounded like static to jake's ears

"What? " He questioned through his hoarse voice, his head throbbing because of the constant state of moving his body had been in for the past few days. He doesn't remember when he last slept for more than 4 hours

"She just posted it on her story, check it out if you even care bro" jay scoffed and left the room, his voice condescending and accusing.

jake's brows furrowed while he automatically reached for his phone

"What do you mean if I even care? " he muttered to himself, feeling anger rise up in his chest at jay's tone.

His thumb swiped at your profile and clicked on your story, all anger leaving his body when he saw your figure holding the golden trophy while standing in front of the mirror, your face hidden from the flashlight of your phone.

His heart sank to his stomach and dread filled up his chest when he realised the gravity of the situation

"fuck" He muttered and rubbed his temples, heart running a mile per minute. What had he done.

He quickly clicked on his notifs and saw a couple of messages from you dated yesterday

"Shit baby I'm so sorry" he muttered, the throbbing in his chest reaching fever pitch, an ugly feeling rearing it's head in his chest when he finally read your messages

[Mine🤍]

[5:40 pm] I'm wearing the blue dress that you love so much tonight :), tell me how I look

[5:40 pm] (photo attachment)

jake clicked on the picture and he wanted to cry. You looked like a fucking goddess. God you were beautiful, you were so beautiful he was questioning how you were real.... how you were his

[6:30 pm] I'm feeling nervous, can't wait for you to be here, I just need to hold your hand for a bit, only for a bit I promise :(

[7:21 pm] you aren't coming are you

[3:30 am] (audio message)

jake's heart felt like it was tearing apart in two, he had fucked up so bad and he didn't think there was anything he could do to make this right.

There were missed calls from you after that last message and finally an audio message that sat staring at jake ominously

He rubbed his palm over his face and finally pressed play with trembling fingers

"Hi babyy i miss you- you slurred, your voice was shaky and he could tell that you were drunk when you recorded this message ,intoxication dripped from your tone

"Where even are you? Busy? Did you at least eat today baby?" he didn't deserve it, he didn't deserve your concern or love, he didn't fucking deserve you

"I hope you did- there was a pause - I haven't eaten- your voice sounded solemn all of a sudden, as if you were deep in your thoughts now, ur voice was hoarse like you had been crying

"Don't feel like eating ...... I waited for you- a sharp inhale, shit, you were crying. jake felt his own eyes dampen at hearing your first sniffle, he hated when you cried. He hated that he was the reason why.

"I feel stupid now" You whispered and then laughed condescendingly

"I mean, it's not like it was an important award anyway... just a stupid art exhibition. It's not like my art is that good anyway, I'm honestly questioning if they gave me that award cuz they needed a female in the merit list"

Wrong. You were amazing. And if anyone deserved that award it was you.

But jake didn't remember the last time he had told you that.

another sniffle

"You have more important stuff to do and i get that. And i told myself I won't cry today but here I am- you giggled through your sobs- I look so stupid right now, I bet I sound even more stupid everytime I annoy you with my stupid fucking feelings"

No you don't, he loves you, you are his everything, he wanted to say

"But I'm trying to change i promise.... I haven't been keeping track of our anniversaries anymore since the last time you told me it was childish and you had better things to do with your time"

jake closed his eyes and let a single tear fall down his cheek, god he regretted it everyday, he regretted opening his stupid mouth and talking to you that way every damn day. He had wished you would forget about it after he apologized to you but of course you haven't. That kind of hurt cannot be forgotten so easily

"It hurts but i manage... it's hard to manage tonight, I don't know why.... maybe because I can't stop expecting things to change, hoping that one day I would wake up and I'll be your priority again " You were full on hiccuping through sobs now

"God I'm so stupid and I wore this stupid fucking dress cuz I felt beautiful... not anymore tho, I don't feel beautiful when you aren't there to tell me I am..... you just matter so much to me and it kills me that I won't ever matter even half as much to you"

jake cursed and threw his phone aside while you still talked, holding his head in both hands, jake let himself cry

He let himself cry for all the times he'd hurt your self esteem so much it made you want to change, he cried for all the times he watched your smile fall cuz he couldn't be there for the stuff you wanted to do

He let himself cry for making you feel like you were less of a person just because you got excited over small things and little gestures mattered to you

He cried because he had been hurting the one person who made his life worth living, so much to the point that you had started to make yourself smaller. He had made you shrink.

"You are my first and last everything jake.. and i know you are an important person and have to hide it from the world that you have a girlfriend but i just feel like... Maybe in an effort to make everyone else believe that i don't exist, you started to believe it too.... and i don't even blame you. I've always been forgettable"

His phone dinged to signal the message had ended so he pressed play again. And again. And again. He doesn't remember how long he sat there listening to your sobs and heart wrenching pain. The pain that he had caused.

jake hadn't felt this kind of fear ever before. Not even when he had moved to a foreign country alone. He was losing his mind, dark circles under his eyes as he sat outside your apartment door. You weren't here, he knew that, he'd been coming to see you everyday but no sign of you. A locked door. That's all he was greeted with for the past 1 week.

Your phone was switched off, no calls or messages, no way of knowing how you were doing and where you were. Had you really left him for good this time? Would he never be able to hold you in his arms again? Hear your giggles and taste your sweet kisses? Was this your goodbye?

That was the thought that had him breaking down completely in his car in the middle of nowhere as he drove around looking for you aimlessly.

just once, he needed to see u once.

He wiped his tears and dialed jay's number

"I need you to do me a favor"

You missed him. You missed him so much it hurt. Were you being too harsh on him? You weren't doing it on purpose, you just didn't feel like you were capable of facing him right now, too embarrassed and feeling exposed after you sent that stupid voice note. A drunk mistake.

What if he broke up with you? What if he hated you now ?

You sobbed into your pillows in your childhood bedroom, crying yourself to sleep, imagining his arms around you, shushing you softly, telling you he loved you

God you don't even remember the last time he told you he loved you.

His knees buckled when his eyes fell on you. There you were, so fucking beautiful, so fucking tempting he had to physically stop himself from running to you and taking you in his arms. You weren't smiling and that's what made his heart clench. As long as he'd known you, you were always smiling, you were his personal little cheerleader.

"Y/n look who's here to meet you" your mother's voice made you jolt, almost dropping the antique case that you were cleaning.

And you almost dropped it again when your questioning eyes met his dark ones. Your heart started beating unbearably fast, your palms sweaty as you placed the case back on the counter with shaky hands

"you didn't tell me you had friends back in the city y/n! And such a handsome one at that- your mother cooed, wiggling her eyebrows at jake whose ears turned red - anyways, you kids talk while I bring you guys snacks" your mother said and disappeared around the corner, leaving you and the reason of your escape from the city alone. You stood there fidgeting with your fingers, the silence sitting heavy on you while you made it a point to look nowhere else except your feet.

After a few foreboding seconds which felt like hours you saw his shoes come into your line of vision, moving closer to your feet

Your hands gripped onto your skirt harshly when you felt his big hands cup both of your cheeks and move your face up to look into his eyes. His face inches from yours.

"Baby.. " he whispered and that's all you had to hear before breaking down, your vision becoming blurry and harsh sobs escaping your lungs

"God I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry sweetheart I'm so fucking sorry" His voice cooed, thumbs swiping at your cheeks to wipe your tears, kissing your cheeks and eyes to calm your heavy breathing

Your hands moved up to fist the shirt on his chest and you closed your eyes to finally let it all out, crying and sobbing your pain out, so hurt and so upset from what things had come to.

He pulled your heaving body into his arms and circled his arms so tight around you, as if afraid of losing you. You sobbed your heart out in the crook of his neck while he apologized to you, whispering countless confessions into your ears

"I love you, I love you so much baby, I'm sorry I haven't shown it to you enough" he whispered and you hiccuped in his chest, letting the hurt and disappointment wash over you, hearing him say he loved you already healing a part of you

His guilt ridden voice had you eventually giving in and wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling back to stare into his eyes, small sniffles leaving your lips as u observed his tired face. Your hand cupped his cheek and he leaned into your touch, kissing your palm. You traced the heavy dark circles beneath his eyes, his irises were red rimmed and exhausted, hairs messy and uncombed

"How long since u slept?" You asked in your hoarse voice

He stared into your eyes, giddy from feeling you close again, feeling too good cuz you were back in his arms

"2 weeks" He whispered and your eyes teared up again. You knew he had been harsh on himself because of his work, he was often sick, unable to sleep or rest and then there was you and your feelings

Who cared about your stupid feelings when this man in front in front of you couldn't even get proper fucking sleep? If anything, you were the extra baggage that he had been carrying around

"I'm sorry" You whispered and his brows furrowed "baby why? "

"because I'm so inconsiderate, I'm sorry I'm so demanding and - his lips cut your rambling off mid sentence, chapped lips pressed against your plump ones and he kissed you like he had never kissed you before. Desperate hands grabbed your waist while your own tangled In his hairs, pulling him closer to you. You were both hungry. No the better word would be starved. You were starved to the point that even a little brush of skin against each other was sending your heads reeling. The kiss tasted of despair and guilt, it reeked of frustration but most of all jake kissed you like he was scared.

"Wanting to feel loved isn't a demand sweetheart, I'm sorry i haven't been there for you, I'm sorry i haven't been making you feel like you are my priority, because you are. You have no idea what you mean to me baby, you're my little heart" he whispered into your mouth and you started crying again like the crybaby that you were. You were his crybaby tho, his to console and comfort. His to love.

He kissed you again, soft pecks all over your face, whispering things that he had never told you before, he didnt like talking about his feelings this way but the moment demanded vulnerability and he could do anything for you.

You were sure your mother had heard everything by now and that's why you didn't hesitate to drag jake into your childhood bedroom. The both of you snuggled in your bed and talked about your feelings for hours. Tears were shed on both sides but it was comforting in a sense, to clear everything up and come clean about what you both needed

"Will you wear that dress for me again? When we get home?" he asked, his fingers tracing patterns into your waist and you pouted at him

"you've lost that privilege" You teased , slapping his chest lightly

He stared deeply into your eyes, his gaze so serious it made your own smile drop

"I'd do anything to gain that privilege again, to see you look so beautiful for me,so fucking pretty for me" he whispered and you blushed, your head reeling from his words

"I'll wear it" You mumbled shyly, god you were weak for this man

He leaned into you to bite your cheek

"Yeah? you'd let me take it off you too won't you? Unwrap you like a present, just for me? "

You blushed harder, ears burning up, your fists hitting against his chest

"Pervert" you whispered and he chuckled, his hands wrapping around your body to pull you closer, nose burying in the crook of your neck, leaving small sensual kisses

"Can't help it baby I'm so down bad for you" he groaned into your neck, making you flinch slightly as it tickled. His hold on your waist was tight, squeezing you desperately

"you're seriously not thinking dirty things while my mom's down the hallway right? " You asked giggling even though your cheeks were red and flushed. It had been a while since you and jake had done anything like this, since you felt wanted by him like this

jake's pants tightened uncomfortably upon hearing your giggles. God you were so sweet, there was a reason his manager had been forbidding him from seeing you

You were a distraction. You were addicting. And anyone with two eyes could see that jake was addicted to you.

He had physically recoiled when his manager had told him to chose between his idol career and you, seeing how he was willing to sneak out to meet you, risking everything and putting everyone at stake

But jake had promised he would control himself. He couldn't live without you, even the thought of you not being there made his chest constrict. So he decided to stay away from you for a while. Even though it hurt , it surely hurt less than to stay away from you forever

"I was drunk and couldn't stop thinking about you" jake whispered, coming up to move your body, laying you on your back so that he could hover over you

"so i drank more and kept drinking till I couldn't feel my fingers"

Your wide doe eyes stared up at him curiously, wondering why he was telling you this all of a sudden

He brought his palm up to your face, stroking your cheek by the back of his hand, caressing you like he loved you

"I didn't forget about your award sweetheart, I was too drunk to remember anything at all, woke up hungover the next evening and i realized what I had done. In an effort to forget about you, I forgot everything else as well. I know it's not an excuse but i just need to tell you" He said, his expression guilty and distraught

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to yourself

"Why were you trying to forget about me? Why not just come see me? or call me? "

Your innocent questioning eyes made jake close his eyes in impending sorrow. He leaned down and kissed u deeply, tasting your hot mouth to stabilize himself before pulling back and telling you everything.

You layed wide wake, stroking your fingers through jake's hair as he slept soundly snuggled into your chest. His soft snores and breath hitting your clavicle.

Honestly you weren't surprised that his manager had done such a thing. You weren't a fool, you noticed the hostile stares he would shoot your way everytime you went over to the boys' dorms or practice sessions. His eyes were always set on you in a glaring warning, as if to say, "you're not welcome here"

You hated that you understood where he was coming from. Being responsible for an entire group's reputation must be hard and your presence only made it harder.

You sighed and hugged jake's head closer to you, burying your nose in his hairs, breathing him in after so long. His hands were around your waist, grip so tight even in his sleep, it made you feel safe and so loved. This was all you wanted. Him in your arms, was that really too much to ask for?

You were still awake about two hours later, sleep just wouldn't come to you, head filled with so many thoughts. You tried slipping out from his grip to fetch water but his strong hands were pulling your body back into him

"Hmm don't go" He mumbled, his voice heavy and sleep ridden, eyes still closed but brows slightly furrowed. You smiled and kissed his nose, trying to slip again when his eyes opened wide, a gasp escaped your lips when he was flipping you over, resting his body over yours, nibbling on your ear

"I said don't fucking go" he growled and the sound had you rubbing your thighs together, hands coming up to rest against his shoulders

"I-i was just thirsty" you whispered and he hummed into your skin, nibbling on your ear again, sucking your lobe into his mouth making you whine softly

"I'm thirsty too" he whispered in your ear, his hands moving down to grab your thighs and parting them so he could settle his crotch against your middle, making you feel how hard he was in his jeans

"so fucking thirsty baby" He groaned and thrusted against you, a harsh gasp left your lips at his actions

"J-jake not here" you whispered but even you didn't believe your words, pussy starting to drip just from the way his voice sounded so husky and deep in your ear. His hands groped your lower body, taking a handful of your ass as he issued another thrust against you

Before you could tell him to stop again, he was pulling back, standing on his knees between your legs while he hastily undid his belt and jeans

"I'm sorry sweetheart I just can't wait any fucking longer, I need to put it in" he panted, you squirmed underneath him, watching how he was quick to pull his pants down his legs, his boxers coming off along with them, hanging around his thighs

He didn't bother taking his clothes all the way off, desperate hands reaching under your skirt to pull your panties down your legs

Your breathing was heavy, eyes pivoted to the hard dick that hung between his legs, arousal gushing down your slit when he rubbed a finger against your hole while fisting his own dick a few times "such a pretty fucking pussy"

"jake please" you moaned and he cursed, coming up to capture your lips into his own while he settled between your legs, rubbing his cock against your leaking cunt, rubbing it up and down, bumping against your engorged clit, making you moan into his mouth that was busy licking into yours

The feeling of being so close to each other after so long had you feeling hot and heavy

"Yeah baby? you want it?" he demanded, eyes dark and lust ridden as he gazed into your teary ones

"Y-yes please" you mumbled and jake clenched his jaw. Fuck. You were sweeter than candy and he couldn't control himself when it came to you

He rested his forehead against yours, looking down to stare at how his dick entered your warm sex, hips grinding to slide in smoother and deeper. Your mouth fell open in a silent moan upon the feeling of him inside of you after so long "baby f-fuck" he groaned into your mouth, feeling his resolve to go soft on you fading away at the way your tight walls were clenching around him

"you're sucking me in baby, so tight"

His words made your hips twitch. The indication enough for him to start moving in you. Your nails dug into his shoulders from above his shirt that he still wore as his hips started snapping against yours, his balls smacking filthily against your ass

His hot moans were making you wetter, drool escaping your mouth at the pleasure

"ts so good baby I fucking missed this" he pants, his hands groping your body mercilessly as he kept moving in and out of your leaking pussy

He licked the drool escaping your lips, sticking his tongue inside your hot mouth, licking into it with urgency while he moved your legs upwards, pressing your body in a mating press, increasing his pace

Harsh animalistic thrusts were sending your body in a ripple, making you move back and forth as he moved above you, sending the headboard of the bed slamming against the wall, the sex getting louder, messier

"Yeah, yeah, fuck yeah" he insinuated with every grind of his hips into you, meshing your lower bodies together to create a friction so insane it had you moaning his name in a chant, mind numbing pleasure clouding your senses

You both shared open mouth kisses, sucking on each other's tongue lewdly, uncaring of how messy it was, you loved messy

His hands moved up to hold onto the headboard above your head as he moved his hips deeper into yours, letting your legs fall around his hips, wrapping around his waist, your ankles digging into his ass to keep him buried deep inside of your warm cunt

"Wanted to make love to you but look what you fucking do to me" he groaned into your mouth, occasionally licking into it and digging his teeth into your lower lip, making you whine and moan in extreme pleasure. His dick made out with your cervix, bumping pleasurably into your g spot, penetrating your womb mercilessly

The sound of the headboard slamming was getting louder, bed creaked beneath your writhing bodies, the sweat on your naked bodies making it easier to slide against each other

Your moans were getting louder as his silent curses reached a fever pitch, a bunch of "Umhhnshit baby" and "so good" s falling from his lips, hips getting sloppier, pistoning in and out of you in a frenzy, uncaring of how your mother could probably hear you get pounded into the sheets

"s-so close jake I'm so close" you moaned and his hips got faster, his hand sneaking down to rub against your clit to make u reach your high faster. He couldn't wait to feel you gushing around his cock "that's right baby, make a fucking mess on me yeah?" he groaned, biting your lower lip and rubbing harshly against you, his hips never faltering, thrusting and thrusting until you were cumming all over his dick with a scream of his name

The moan was so pornographic it had him cumming within minutes of feeling the delicious clench of your cunt around his aching cock, filling you up to the brim, harsh pants escaping his lips as he used your pussy to ride his orgasm, eyes rolling back in pleasure. Sighs of satisfaction filled the empty space between your mouths

Harsh breaths were shared as you both came down from your highs, sharing sweet kisses and confessions, a string of "I love you" s falling from his lips while his palms caressed your body softly, rubbing against the parts where he'd grabbed you harshly

"Don't you need to go back? what will your manager do if he finds out you're here with me?" you asked some time later, his dick was still in you, feeling too good to cockwarm him just like this

He kissed you softly and shook his head "Told jay to take care of it. I honestly couldn't care less baby I just need you"

You bit your lower lip, getting shy now that he was being so sweet to you, not used to have him say such things to you casually "But u should care jake, you can't just risk your career for me"

"I could do anything for you. Nothing matters if you're not there, I hope you know that sweetheart" he whispered in your mouth before kissing you deeply again. "I hope you also know how proud of you I am my pretty little artist, no one else deserved that award more than you baby"

You wrapped your arms tightly around his neck and kissed him back, heart feeling full and all insecurities fading away at his words, cheeks flaming red from his compliments, unable to hide the smile overtaking your face

"I love you" you whispered, as if saying them any louder would take the meaning of the words away

"Yeah? Say that again baby" He whispered back and you giggled shyly, burying your face in the crook of his neck where you repeated the words again

He chuckled and kissed the side of your head adoringly "I love you so much too baby, and I'm going to show it to you every waking moment, I'm gonna love on you till you're begging me to stop"

You curled your body further into him at his words, heart feeling giddy after a very long time. Hoping that this feeling would last forever.

#enhypen #enhypen scenarios #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen hard headcanons #enhypen smut #enhypen hard hours #enha #jake smut #jake sim #sim jaeyun #jaeyun smut #enhypen jaeyun #jake x reader

1K notes · View notes

nnight-dances · 1 year

Text

REPETITION / RARE LOVE

pairings: kim mingyu x fem!reader (ft. yoon jeonghan)

genre: fluff, angst, suggestive & sexual content

tropes: best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers (except mingyu's the only idiot), pining, flirting

warnings: explicit language, banter, alcohol consumption, borderline jeonghan slander but it's okay because i would die for the man, has been proofread by me once but only barely. kazuha (le sserafim) is your roommate, huh yunjin is present.

WHAT TO EXPECT

it's simple enough: you and mingyu are perfect for each other. you've told him as much but after years of him avoiding the topic, you leave him alone. but when your long-time infatuation with jeonghan gets rejected, you have nothing to distract you from your desire to be with mingyu. all it takes is you making out with the wrong person and a can of beer for mingyu to come to his senses. (about 11k)

OR: maybe you don't hate repetition as much as you claim to.

SEQUEL OUT NOW!

“why are men on tinder actually vile?” you question out loud, not quite expecting an answer as your eyes continue to read the offensive opener you’d received from a recent match. mingyu, who’s crouched on the desk across from you, frowns.

“y/n, we’re meant to be studying,” he points out, “but also i thought you were over tinder?”

you look at him blankly, “i am! i just gotta finish what i started you know…”

mingyu looks deeply disappointed in you and you slide your phone across to him, “look at this message i just got! it’s disgusting! i don’t need to know if someone’s wet at the thought of—”

“god, y/n, do you have to scream?” he asks as he takes hold of your phone, busying his fingers probably with blocking the guy. you momentarily look back at your screen where the black document meant to be the outline for your final art history paper taunts you.

you sigh, looking down at your phone when mingyu returns it. “i paused your account and deleted the app.” you sigh yet again, “man! if you were gonna uninstall it without my permission you should’ve just deleted my account.”

“you’d just make another one anyway,” he shrugs, “plus, this way when you go back you’ll remember why you left in the first place.”

you grumble something under your breath but resume your attempts at writing. mingyu smiles a little as he goes back to his own work. a beat passes before, he puts his pen down again and when he sees you’re staring at your screen distantly, he asks, “did you talk to jeonghan yet?”

you gasp at the mention of your years-old crush, glancing around you as if you weren’t in a private study room (because apparently the only way either of you could get anything done was while talking to each other). “what?” mingyu continues, “one of us had to address the elephant in the room.”

“wow, you’re just the worst friend ever, aren’t you? it’s like you can’t read rooms at all. i clearly did not want to talk about jeonghan.”

“well, now you are. so you might as well be honest with me. did you think about confessing to him?”

you deflate, stomach suddenly uneasy, “no. i don’t think i will. i don’t need him to know.”

“you kinda do. y/n, look at me,” mingyu knocks on the wood to demand your attention, “it’s the only way you’ll ever have an answer.”

“i don't want an answer.”

“…”

"because i'm going to move on from him!"

"..."

“okay, well, i’m starting to! just watch me, okay? i have the agency to not be completely consumed by my very shallow attraction to a very attractive and impressive man.”

“right. you just used attractive twice in a sentence— and no, i don’t care if it wasn’t the same form of the word, you absolutely hate redundant things. and yet, you refuse to recognize the way out of this pattern of yours.”

“you are so tiring, mingyu, you know that? exhausting, even. i don’t want to do this anymore.” you shake your head at him, suddenly invigorated to finish this damn preliminary proposal of yours.

—

yunjin cackles as she plops down across from you in the dining hall, finding you scrolling ever so dedicatedly on pinterest. “what’s this?”

you look up at her with a pout, “i need a dress for hoshi’s little party. it’s in two weeks and i have zero options.”

“fuck, i knew i was forgetting something,” she grimaces in her typical huh yunjin way and shifts closer, “i need to find something for that too. can’t just wear a corset and call it day since he’s labelling it a formal and whatnot.”

“he really is the worst,” you agree, pausing to muse over a pretty white dress with red roses all over it. “hmm, what about this one?”

yunjin tilts her head and nods as she looks between you and the dress, probably imagining you in it. then, you sigh, “it’s just i don’t think red is my color like that.”

you’re about to elaborate when you hear a gasp from behind you, “that is simply not true!” you don’t have time to react when a figure slides in next to you. goddamnit, it’s jeonghan, you realize, trying hard to keep it together when his shoulder comes to sit next to yours. “you absolutely fucking rock the color red.”

“i do?” is all you can muster as yunjin chokes out a badly covered laugh. you glare at her, “what’s funny, jen?”

“hah, nothing, i agree with jeonghan, you’d look lovely in red.”

you frown, unconvinced as you scroll some more, feeling dizzy from jeonghan’s presence.

“preparing for hoshi’s party i presume?” jeonghan asks and you nod. “i’m so stressed, i have nothing and it’s approaching so fast.”

“you have time though,” he reassures but you’re quick to protest, “i’m not going to have any time next week because we’re organizing that night flea market. i’ll be running around campus so i need to take a trip this week.” the beauty of going to a college with an isolated campus: peace and you gotta plan every time you leave campus because there’s a singular bus that takes you to the city. it’d be a whole day trip for you if not for mingyu, who thankfully has a car that he can drive.

“ahh, tell me when you’re going into the city, y/n,” yunjin pats you, “i gotta go too.”

you nod and then remember, “right of course, i just remembered kazuha saying she wanted to come too.”

“nice,” yunjin approves, “we need all the opinions we can get. did you get mingyu to agree to drive you yet?”

“i texted him earlier but he hasn’t replied, which is slightly concerning because he may not know how to spell but he does write back very fast.”

jeonghan chuckles, “mind if i join you guys too?”

you stop in your tracks, turning to face him, “you wanna come shopping with us?”

he nods, that sweet smile of his plastered across his face, “yeah, i could use a new formal outfit. i’m tired of wearing the same black suit to everything.” he nudges your side, “plus, you guys could help me out. i can never decide on anything all alone.”

—

“maybe i should just not go,” you groan with your head in your hands. mingyu rolls his eyes, slapping your back, “why would not go? if your problem’s with jeonghan, he should be the one to stay back. not you.”

you sit back up, staring at the eggs in your plate. beside you, mingyu chugs his glass of orange juice, and you lean against him. “god, i hate him so much. do you wanna go see if the playground’s free?”

“right now?” mingyu looks at the time. it’s 11 am on saturday, still an hour from the time everyone agreed to meet in front of mingyu’s car, which is conveniently parked right across from the playground. as if following your line of thought, he grins, “alright. but you finish your food first.”

you sigh, “okay, mom, i will.”

five minutes later find you racing mingyu for the best swing in the playground— months of visiting the place had taught you the first swing was the only one that didn’t creak too loud and experienced the least amount of bumps during the ride. mingyu’s fast but you’re stubborn so you reach out for his arm midway, sticking your nails into the skin, knowing how dramatic he is about these things.

he gasps, “DO NOT CLAW ME.” strong as he might be, he slows down to rip your grip off. you seize the opportunity, getting a headstart and laugh when you reach the swing before him, sitting down firmly before mingyu can pull you away.

“that’s cheating, y/n, you know it!”

“hey, you’re the one that has an advantage. you go to the gym like eight times a week. i go like thrice a month.”

“sounds like someone’s lazy and whiny to me.”

you smile, “someone lazy wouldn’t win that race. and you’re the one that’s whining,” you point to his stance, his arms at his hips like an affronted toddler. he loosens his body with a pout as he walks over to the second swing. “whatever.”

time passes a little too fast for you two when you’re fighting like this because kazuha’s running over to you, breathless. “y/n! what are you guys doing?”

“zuha, hi! did you—”

“yep, i got your lip gloss.”

you chuckle, throwing your arms around her, “why are you the best roommate ever?”

mingyu scoffs, “what about you being the worst roommate ever?”

kazuha laughs, too nice to agree with him, “hey, that’s not true.” you hit him in the side, “you’re just jealous that you’re in a single. i guess money really does make people lonely.”

“i’d go for a double even if i was that rich,” jeonghan’s voice pops up from beside you. he sure has a knack for appearing out of thin air. “i couldn’t handle being alone.”

“not everyone can love themselves as much as i do,” mingyu shrugs, smugly as crosses his arms. “i’m self-sufficient like that.”

“if you guys are done, we should start moving,” comes yunjin’s voice from near mingyu’s car, “it’s already fifteen past 12.”

“i call shotgun!” yunjin shouts and you’re quick to fight back, “no way, i already called it.”

“if i didn’t hear it, then it doesn’t count,” she teases, leaning against the passenger side. you glare at mingyu, “i called it in front of mingyu! the driver is the one that counts.”

mingyu laughs at the petty fight, “y/n did call it earlier this morning.”

“that’s not fair! mingyu’s obviously going to take y/n’s side, you guys spend every breathing minute together. the rest of us don’t stand a chance.”

you smirk, “don’t be a sore loser, huh yunjin, you can call it when we’re coming back. if you remember to.”

“i hate you,” she mutters as everyone settles into the car.

“i’m open to music requests, dear friends,” you announce once you’ve started off. “but i reserve the right to reject any tasteless songs.”

“isn’t this the textbook example of a tyranny?” jeonghan breathes and you shoot him a look over your shoulder, “hey, the power comes with the seat. it’s natural selection.”

mingyu groans through laughter, “you know you don’t make any sense. just play some music.”

you roll your eyes, “he says as he laughs his fat ass off.”

“she’s just salty my ass is fatter than hers,” he mutters under his breath. the three in the backseat break into laughs at that, all at your expense as you gape at them. such betrayal.

“i don’t know why i call you friends. you’re monsters.”

kazuha pipes in, “y/n, are you calling your sweet roommate a monster right now?”

jeonghan is quick to join in, “honestly, i’d say kazuha is the nicest friend among us here.”

“fine, everyone but zuha’s out to get me right now.” the screaming continues for a little bit longer until yunjin and kazuha tire themselves out and pass out. you chuckle when you look at them, yunjin’s head bobs in the middle of the three until it hits kazuha’s shoulder, whose head then rests on top.

swiftly, you pull out your phone camera and capture the moment, sure to tease them later. as you’re clicking the photos, jeonghan’s face sticks into the corner with a sneaky grin and you shift the angle to include him. enjoying the attention, he shoots the camera a peace sign, followed by a little heart, and then a cheek heart and now he’s a bunny and then—

you pull yourself away abruptly with a shaky laugh, “god, jeonghan, this isn’t a photoshoot.”

he laughs back, “ha ha, sorry, i can’t help myself. it’s so fun to tease you like this.”

you feel the blood rush to your face at that, so you turn to face the road completely, a weak, “fuck off” on your tongue. mingyu silently observes the interaction, not without a little side-eye that you don’t know what to think of. “you should get some rest, y/n, you didn’t sleep last night.”

you frown, surprised mingyu knows that and you don’t get to ask him why he knows that because jeonghan interrupts, “you guys sure are close. i was talking to hoshi the other day, he misses y’all a lot.”

“he does? he can just come talk to us whenever though,” mingyu replies, doubt tracing his tone. “i don’t think we’re exclusive like that.”

“right?” you agree, “we used to be so close to hoshi, too, and then he moved to the other side of campus this semester and now i have like one class with him.”

“i don’t know,” jeonghan says, “you should talk to him about it, but there’s always been something stronger about the two of you together.”

you shrug, “we always end up together. it’s not that deep i think. it’s just how it is.”

the topic ends there as jeonghan agrees and dozes off himself too. you, however, feel eerily awake. awake? no, more like unsettled. something in your nerves is off and you feel on edge. you’re a little spaced out after that, as you finally reach the city circle with all the shops crowded next to each other with a little mall in the center.

as everyone gets off and gathers their things, mingyu pulls you aside with a concerned look, “are you okay, y/n?” his grip on your elbow grounds you a little. you inhale, knowing better than to pretend in front of him, “yeah, just a little uneasy. i don’t know why. probably just tired.”

mingyu looks like he knows something more about your condition, “are you sure? we can take a break at one of the restaurants before shopping if you want?”

“nah, i’m okay, don’t worry. i’m a strong girl,” you smile, reasurring him with a pat to his chest, “i feel better now. thanks, mingyu.”

he frowns, hand loosening against your skin, “you never thank me, weirdo. don’t be so formal.”

“man, there’s no winning with you, is there?”

he chuckles as he pulls you after the others, “no, i’m insatiable.”

—

an hour into shopping, you realize why you hate doing this. everything is so overwhelming when you’re in the city, so many people, so many clothes. at least you have friends with you as you scan racks after racks, ending up with three potential dresses on your arm. you mutter a prayer in your head that you can find something nice here so you don’t have to walk more. this is already your third store.

the first one is a classic: a little black dress. it’s satin so it sits smooth against your skin and feels soft when you twirl around. it’s a little short for your liking, perhaps too tight against your ass. you turn to the side to get a better look. you take a photo and send it to mingyu, who you’d been going back and forth with. he’d last sent you a photo ten minutes ago: him in a stupid minion onesie. you’d cursed him out real well in response telling him to stop fucking around. he writes back fast.

big gyu: u look good

big gyu: kinda basic tho

you: yea i thought so too

you agree with that, putting the dress aside in case you don’t find anything else at all.

candidate number two is more over the top: a long red dress with little black patterns on it, with a leg slit on one side. getting into it was a whole struggle but you get it on finally. it fits well thanks to the slit which also shows off some skin. you’re hot in it: like literally. the long sleeves don’t help at all. but you look good too, the flare doing wonders for your figure. you pause, sending a photo hoping mingyu would be of help.

however, when mingyu takes longer than a minute to reply, you groan, already sweating a little. concluding that he’s probably changing or something, you peek out your curtain, hoping yunjin was still in the stall next to yours. you call out her name, straining your neck to see if there was anyone else you could ask for help.

you spot jeonghan walking around the shelves near the fitting rooms and before you can hesitate to call him over, he notices your head poking out. he raises an eyebrow, sending your heartbeat into a spiral. “y/n? do you need help?”

you clear your throat, “um, yeah, i need a second opinion on this dress.” jeonghan approaches your corner and you panic when he reaches for the curtain to draw it back. his eyes question you, “can i look?” you let go of it to let him in, a tiny little rational part of you wondering he needed to come inside the room to see.

“ohhh,” he exclaims as he takes you in, “you look amazing. told ya red was your color.”

you turn away from him a little, “this dress is hot.”

“it sure is,” he agrees and you blush harder, “no i meant, like literally. i’m so hot right now.”

jeonghan presses his lips together, giving away the fact that he understands but being the little bitch he is, he chooses the option that makes you wanna combust. he presses two fingers to your cheek and mumbles, “yeah, you are.”

you push his arm off, “yoon jeonghan! you’re such a damn flirt! get out of here.” you force him out of your space and he’s uncontrollably laughing as he lets you. “i’ve another dress to try so wait outside for me.”

“sure you don’t need a hand changing—”

“no, thank you very much!” you scream, greeted with more pleased chuckling. your phone buzzes, catching your attention. you lean down to look at it.

big gyu: niceee thats hot

big gyu: u should get this dress

big gyu: pls

you: …girl why are u begging me

big gyu: because.

big gyu: you’re getting this dress right

you: no i’d die of overheating in it

big gyu: and it’d be worht it

you: i dont like how enthusiastic u are about this...

you: wtv this one's rejected.

you: i still have another dress to try

you put your phone down to try the final dress. this one was a purple slip dress with white flower detailing. it was skin tight against your boobs and a little transparent, giving away your black bra underneath. and to contrast, it sat a little loose on your hips which was honestly not the worst look, keeping from the dress becoming too scandalous. you enjoyed this dress the most so far. that was enough, given the track record.

“you done, y/n?” you’re startled when the voice outside is mingyu’s instead of jeonghan. you pull back the curtains in confusion, “gyu? what’re you doing here?” mingyu stops short, “fuck, i like this one.” you flush a little when you notice his eyes settle on your chest for a beat too long. “that’s stunning, for real.”

you laugh. “look at you using big words. but yeah, i think this is the one.” you look over at him, “did jeonghan leave?”

“um, yeah, he said he had to use the washroom when i ran into him on the way,” he mumbles. you nod, a little relieved because you think you’d die if he saw you right now. “anyway, i’m offended you were showing him your dresses and then all i got was a photo.”

“hey, you were taking so long to reply that i had seek someone else out. he just happened to be her.”

mingyu ignores that and tells you to hurry up, “i need your help choosing something for myself.”

“ugh, alright, give me five.”

in the end, you decided you’d get both the classic black dress and the slip dress, you needed more dresses in general. wouldn’t hurt to have more. when you’re done checking out, you find mingyu in conversation with kazuha who’s smiling with a shopping bag in her hands.

“zuha, you get anything?” you ask. she nods eagerly, “yeah! i got this pink dress that jeonghan helped me find just now. it’s really pretty, i’ll show you later in the room.”

you falter a little at that, glancing at mingyu who’d told you he went to the washroom. ignoring the growing unsettling gut feeling, you inform her you’d found something too. “nice, we should have a try-on in the room later.”

“you guys!!” yunjin joins the group, “this is insane. i hit the jackpot and found the sexiest green dress ever.” you laugh, linking arms with her, “you should come over later and try it on with us.”

“ah, the beauty of womanhood,” mingyu grumbles beside you, and you shove him. “you’re not invited, pervert.”

his jaw falls open, “excuse me? what did you just call me?”

you press an index finger into his bicep, “don’t think i didn’t notice you checking my boobs out earlier.” mingyu’s cheek redden at the light-hearted accusation, worsening when jeonghan appears right at the climax of the argument.

“okay, okay, first of all, i wasn’t checking anything out!” he complains, “and-and well, they—”

jeonghan cuts him off, patting his back with an amused smirk, “it’s alright, buddy, it happens to the best of us.” everyone laughs at that, much to mingyu’s chagrin who then becomes pouty for the rest of the walk to the next shop.

“c’mon,” you pull him into the store, “my turn to stare at your tits.”

“god, would you drop it?” he groans as he follows you in. “it won’t happen again.”

you giggle, “it’s okay with me, gyu, because that just means the girls look good.”

he groans again, “i really don’t need to be a part of this.” he wanders off into the store, embarrassed. you let him go, looking at clothes for him separately. turns out shopping for mingyu is harder than the concept of it sounds. it doesn’t help that he’s an expert at criticizing the small detail in every item you choose for him. half an hour later, you’re tired of him.

as if on cue, kazuha calls you to tell you to come over to an asian restaurant nearby to grab lunch. you thank the lords as you pull mingyu away, “there’s nothing here for me anyway,” he grumbles as you meet up with the rest.

entering the restaurant, you spot kazuha and jeonghan at a table nearby. yunjin’s still on her way it turns out as you sit across from them, heart in throat for the worst reason possible: you’re jealous. you may be down bad for jeonghan but that doesn’t mean you’ve lost your ability to take a hint. trying to keep the thought from completely forming in your head, you make conversation with everyone, wanting to be better than this.

you want to avoid thinking about it so you’re quick to shut jeonghan off. he’s his usual self, joking around with everyone but he picks up when you’re not as receptive as usual. you hope he just thinks nothing of it, but you know that’s not possible when he approaches you after lunch as everyone else is washing up in the bathroom.

you’re outside alone, waiting, when he slightly pushes your shoulder to draw your attention. you gasp lightly. “jeonghan?”

“can i talk to you for a sec?”

you frown, “yeah, you’re talking to me right now.”

“come on, y/n, don’t be cold. let’s go for a walk.”

“but, the others—”

“i let mingyu know we’ll be back in a few.”

out of excuses, you silently follow jeonghan’s stride through the busy street. he makes conversation really well, easing you up in no time as he distracts you from what was on your mind. it’s illegal how smoothly he then proceeds to drop the act.

you’re laughing about what he’d said about hoshi’s drinking habits just now, when he suddenly goes serious, “i think i like kazuha.”

you freeze up at that, fighting the frown that itches closer, looking at him like you didn’t hear him. heart’s out of control right now, but at least you were already expecting this outcome. “huh?”

“sorry, i just thought you should know. i’m really into her and i was planning to ask her out sometime this week.”

you would love to pass away right now. immediately, you think you hate jeonghan for doing this to you. it’s clear from his behavior that he knows you like him and that he’s apologizing— he’s rejecting you before you have a chance to confess. he likes kazuha. he’s going to ask her out. you should know that.

you sputter awkwardly, “that’s great! good for you, jeonghan. and um, you really didn’t have to tell me. i’m sure kazuha would love to be with you.”

you never want to speak a word to anyone ever again and you're sweating ever so profusely, so you speed up a little, “and we should get going, no?”

sensing your mood, jeonghan follows along but says, “i’m sorry, y/n. i- i know you…”

you don’t let him finish because it would genuinely kill you to hear him say he knows you like him. “you don’t have to be sorry.” with that, you essentially leave your body. you move fast enough to reach the car, wordlessly getting into the passenger seat and yunjin somehow knows better than to fight you.

the car ride back is filled with music. not much chatter. you realize it’s partly your fault and silently dread being back in the room with kazuha, but to your relief, when you reach she doesn’t bring anything up. you’re too tired to do a try-on like you promised and when mingyu asks if you want to come over to his place, you tell him you’re feeling sleepy. and for once, you actually sleep after telling him that.

sleep is not as much of a comfort as you’d hope for it to be: less of an escape, more jeonghan-themed content. something about heartbreak and living the rest of your life, lovelessly.

—

the next week starts off hectic and you’re thankful for it this once. you could use the chaos of organizing an event to take your mind off things. a small part of you wonders if jeonghan was being merciful by letting you down and timing it so well. knowing him, that doesn’t seem so impossible.

you feel better than you’d imagined you would. you cried like once since the rejection. you didn’t need to worry much at this point, having realizing that it was less important that you’d made it out to be. mingyu, on the other hand, doesn’t give up his worrying, especially when he doesn’t see you until three days into the week. and that, too, because he gave up and thought it would be a good idea to invade your room, at one in the night.

his knocking wakes you up fairly quickly, since you’d only put your phone down a few minutes ago. you rush to the door, afraid of waking kazuha up. “what the fuck, mingyu?” you ask at the sight of him.

“what the fuck yourself! stop ignoring my messages maybe?”

you groan, stepping outside your room, feeling the cold air hit you in your night clothes. “why’d you have to confront me so late at night? can we do this tomorrow? when i’m coherent and not half-naked?”

mingyu falter as if he just realized the time, noticing your tank top and shorts. “i don’t care. i’ll give you my jacket but we’re doing this right here and right now.”

you sigh, knowing this was coming. “forget it, keep your jacket. i’ll go change and be right back.”

mingyu grabs your arm when you try to go back inside, “how do i know you’re not just gonna leave me here to die?”

“dude, my room’s right here. you can come watch me change if you fucking want.”

he lets you go, flustered when you offer and you laugh as you rush back in. in the darkness, kazuha’s voice startles you, “y/n? is everything okay? are you being abducted?”

“oh god, zuha, you scared me. and no, it’s just stupid little mingyu who wants to have a talk. i’ll settle this. go back to sleep.”

she groans, “god, you guys are just like my parents sometimes.”

you laugh at that as you slip into a hoodie and exchange your shorts for pajamas. when you return, mingyu’s sitting at the stairs in front of your room and you hit him in the back.

“ouch! fuck you!” he stands up with a glare, “also i heard what you said about me. why am i stupid and little? can you just choose one insult?"

“let’s go down if we’re gonna argue. zuha can hear us, too. and did you hear what she said after that?” when he seems clueless, you go on, “she said we remind her of her parents sometimes.”

he coughs, “her parents?? what are we, married?”

you roll your eyes, “married and sick of each other, apparently.”

“being zuha’s parents doesn’t sound so bad honestly. she’d be the easiest child to raise.”

“i feel like zuha would raise you if you were her father,” you laugh, “me too, probably.”

“who’d be the father then?”

your smile falls when an answer occurs to you, you mumble, “jeonghan,” sitting at a bench outside your dorm. mingyu joins you, equally solemn now.

“did something happen between you two?”

“yeah. he rejected me when we went shopping that day.”

mingyu’s eyes widen, “what? you confessed?”

you shake your head, a strained smile, “he already knew. i guess i was obvious, but it’s still driving me insane that he rejected me without even giving me a chance to confess.”

“i can’t believe he did that. that’s conceited as fuck.”

“conceited or impressive, i can’t decide. but he told me likes kazuha and that he’s sorry. i genuinely wanted to die when he said that. he was cool about breaking my heart, too. lowkey fell a little harder for him.” you laugh at your own joke, but mingyu looks unhappy, jaw clenched like he’d tasted something bitter.

you hit his arm, “it’s not a big deal, dude. i was thinking about it the past few days and i realized i barely knew the guy. i just knew what he told me over the last year.”

after a pause, “and he’s one beautiful man, so there was that.” you smile a little.

“but he didn’t have to do it like that. he could just stop flirting with you, you know, or wait for you to come around and confess like a normal person,” mingyu says, “he’s such a little jerk.”

“hey, it’s okay, a little flirting didn’t hurt anyone.”

“yeah but he was leading you on, leaving you in ambiguity by doing that. he should’ve been flirting with kazuha, not you.”

“okay, now that’s starting to hurt,” you whine, pressing your forehead against his shoulder, “but i can’t really blame him, no? kazuha’s so precious.”

“don’t be like that, y/n.”

“what? be like what?” you look up, “didn’t you also used to be into kazuha?”

mingyu bites his lip when you bring his years-old crush up, “when will you forget about that? that was so long ago and it was barely serious. she’s too nice to be my type.” (what does that even mean? you wonder but don't have the time to ask.)

“sure, you didn’t want to change residence halls to be closer to her?”

“alright, how many times do i tell you that i did that because of you? why do you never believe me?”

“it just makes more sense the other way,” you mumble, suddenly feeling teary-eyed and hating that you were feeling teary-eyed, which only intensified the teariness in your eyes. “god, this is stupid.”

mingyu’s arm is around in no time when he notices you curling up, your lip tucked between your lips in anticipation, “hey, hey, c'mon, i thought you said it wasn't a big deal. so how come you're crying?"

“because! i feel lame. and because kazuha’s perfect, by the way. she’d probably cry too if she knew i was crying.”

he pulls you closer, “you’re not lame, y/n. you think i’d keep you around so long if i didn’t think you were insanely cool?”

you breathe through your tears, “you just keep me around because i’m insane?”

“insanely cool! open your ears, idiot.”

“you just called me an idiot. idiots are pretty lame.”

he sighs when he feels his tshirt get damper, your body so weak under his hold. he pats your hair softly, “sorry, that’s not what i meant. but seriously, y/n, you know i’m bad at saying this stuff but i seriously cannot stress enough how highly i think of you.” his hand moves to rub your back, “and you’re so much more than perfect, you know? like sometimes you don’t do a paper till three hours before and still get an A. and then, you come up with comebacks to my arguments in your own unique ways, and trust me, nobody can argue with me like you do.”

you pull away, “all right, now you’re embarrassing me. why do i sound like a bossy nerd or something?”

“you can be that at times. hey, but you forgot the part where you’re hot as shit. and also pretty.”

“i feel like that last part was an afterthought, mingyu,” you bite back a laugh, “you really only keep me around for my tits, don’t you?”

“dude, can you let me wholesome for once? i’m trying to console you, so would you stop playing devil’s advocate?”

“sorry, i’m just,” you hesitate with a heavy sigh and then, you blurt out, "i’m scared i’ll never fall in love. i’ll never find it at all.”

“now that’s some stupid thoughts you’re having,” mingyu shakes you by the shoulders, “you’ve just been blinded by your crush on jeonghan for so long that you haven’t explored anyone else at all.”

“are you volunteering to be my crush right now?” you ask, jokingly.

mingyu’s smirk catches you off-guard, “what if i am? it wouldn’t be the worst thing if i was your boyfriend.”

you feel yourself heating up a little for some reason, head in a daze from his earlier shower of compliments and now this. so instead of trying to make sense of it all, you press yourself into him in a hug. “yeah, it wouldn’t.”

—

“hoshi, you little shit!” you throw yourself around the guy when you spot him on the night of the flea market, the product of a long and actually insane week. he laughs when he realizes it’s you, pulling you into a hug, “bro, y/n, why is this my first time seeing in you in literal years?”

“i don’t know, i just kinda see you walking around sometimes. maybe if you actually showed up to econ class, i’d see you more.”

hoshi flinches, “you can’t be bringing econ up right now. that class is kicking my ass. i can’t keep showing up to that kind of humiliation.”

the two of you catch up at last, as people swarm around the different stalls set up along the college street. you were relieved after having finished this damn event. cheers to sleep, right?

hoshi tells you all about his new situationship with a guy in another class and how he’s regretting inviting him to the party tomorrow night. “why? believe it or not, people are more fun when drunk.”

hoshi rolls his eyes, “yeah, well, i couldn’t get any more fun. so instead i become incontrollable. an absolute animal.”

“right, i remember that. so you’re scared you’re gonna drive him off? i wouldn’t worry honestly. and if you want, i can keep you in check.”

he narrows his eyes in distrust, “you? you’re not much better than me drunk, okay? i feel bad for mingyu who’s gonna have to take care of you the whole time.”

you gasp, “wow, you’re taking mingyu’s side now? over mine? i thought we had something special.”

“you thought wrong,” comes mingyu out of nowhere, slinging his arm around hoshi’s shoulders.

“why are you here suddenly?” hoshi looks between the two of you, “i couldn’t not come to an event my lovely y/n herself planned, could i?”

hoshi laughs, “nice to see you two as jolly as ever. but also i must take your leave. i gotta go grab dinner soon.”

“hey, why don’t you come with us? we were gonna check out the new outlet the college opened.”

“oh, i would love to but i have plans with someone already.”

you nod your head in realization, “right of course, have fun. not too much, though. leave some for tomorrow.” he leaves with a full-toothed smile and you face mingyu.

he playfully pinches your cheek, “you confront him about missing us yet?”

you raise a shoulder in response, and as the flea market starts to fizzle out thanks to the darkening sky, your stomach grumbles. “let’s eat, please.”

ever since that night— you don’t want to say anything had changed between you and mingyu because your friendship had been long enough that even the slightest shift in dynamics would harmoniously just become the new status quo; the two of you had been through a lot together. but ever since that night, you’d been fooling around with him more, if that was possible.

it was along the lines of: less banter, more flirting? although one might argue that the former was just a derivative of the other. but semantics aside, this is what you know to be true: friends flirt with each other all the damn time.

that’s what you’re telling yourself when mingyu asks you to feed him some of the fried rice you’d gotten on your plate. and it was true: you’re almost a 100% certain that you’d flirted with every friend of yours, and that was just how it worked.

but intimacy came differently to everyone and mingyu’s just manifested in clinginess. he was pressed to your side for the entirety of dinner, and you couldn’t complain about the proximity. it was welcome, even, this form of friendship.

“you’re thinking too hard.” mingyu’s voice pulls you out of your little reflection session. “what’re you even thinking about? you should be all burnt out from all the work you did this past week.”

“i am,” you affirm, “but some things just don’t let up.”

he chuckles, patting your head affectionately as if to persuade your thoughts to let up for a while. it doesn’t help really, only gravitating the direction of the said thoughts toward kim mingyu even more.

“maybe repetition isn’t as bad as i always make it out to be,” you say, chin propped up against your fist on the table. mingyu had chosen a corner table of the newly opened eatery, next to a low window that glowed behind you in the remains of sunset as he shifted to completely face you. the sun had finally set. again.

“you’re right. routine is good for people.”

“but it doesn’t have to stay the same forever, you know?”

“hm?” mingyu can’t help but feel like you’re edging toward some underlying topic. you were like this since he could remember: you’d start off with some abstract and vaguely relevant concept (that had no doubt been plaguing you for a long time) and slowly circle around till he caught onto what you meant. you love playing games with him.

“repetition doesn't have to be redundant? i think there's something more subtle about it.”

he doesn’t know where you’re going with this, “but repetition is literally the same thing over and over?”

“yeah, but the ‘same thing’ itself can evolve,” your fingers knock against his, “i don’t know, i was just thinking about… us.”

“us? i guess we would be a good example of repetition.”

your gaze falls from his to find your hand instead, your fingers wrapping around his wrist until you’ve forced his palm open. his hand in your lap upside down, you pull at the fingers, “yeah, but we’ve changed a lot. for one, we fight a lot less. sometimes when i’m going to tell you a thought, you understand mid-sentence what i mean.”

“yeah, well, that’s what we get for knowing each that long. but really, what’s this about, y/n?” he captures your hand in his expertly, pulling your attention back to his face.

“do you ever think we should be more?”

mingyu breathes a laugh at that, a shiver running down his spine when he spots the solemn look on your face. and then, his smile turns grave. “y/n, we’ve talked about this before, haven’t we?”

“have we? every time i’m the one who brings it up and you kinda just shrug it off. no, don’t even try to argue with me. you shrug the serious stuff off. always.”

it’s true, mingyu admits in defeat, mind racing as he considers why you’re bringing this up now. the answer is easy: you were finally available. but he doesn’t say it out loud, like he never does. you’d confronted him about the state of your friendship before, unafraid to wonder out loud what it would be like if you started dating. you’ve received all forms of shut-downs from mingyu before so you figured you were the only one in an ambiguous place about your feelings for him.

if someone was to ask if you like mingyu, you’d probably say yes, but it’s more than that. you know better than to blindly fall for him. witnessing him in his relationships before, you know he can be ruthlessly cold to his partner once he’s out of love. you practice romantic love for mingyu: carefully because too much would definitely be dangerous.

“i have my reasons, y/n.” there it is. the strict mingyu. the rigidity in setting his boundaries was something you admired and aspired for when he exhibited it in the past. right now, you want to punch him.

you’re without a filter with him so it’s unfair when he treats you like this. you let him know as much: “i want to punch you right now. i’ve hidden nothing from you, and yet, there’s this wall you keep yourself behind. is this really one-sided?”

mingyu doesn’t know what to do with you right now, “y/n, why are you—”

“no, because it's not like i can't take a hint. so one minute you're flirting with me and then, you push me away like right now,” you point to his estranged fingers, “but then you act like nothing happened and go right back to being all intimate and touchy.”

“i just…” mingyu lets out an exasperated sigh, “i just don’t see the reason for labels. why do we have force ourselves into a restriction like that? we’ve always been above conforming.”

it’s your turn to sigh heavy enough your head hits the wall behind you. wasn’t this just his way of friend-zoning you back into silence? you’ve always been too embarrassed to push him this far because you don’t mean to hurt him. but you feel as though you’ve hurt yourself long enough now.

“so why’d you say that the other night? that it would be nice if you were my boyfriend?”

this leaves him speechless for a few beats and you continue, “that was just because i was heartbroken from jeonghan? you’re playing prince charming for me so i can go back to being your trusty little best friend?”

“y/n, you know that’s not true. i’m not playing anything in your life. i’m just being myself.”

you scoff, “you really are so fucking—”

“why are we actually fighting right now?” mingyu asks through an incredulous laugh, “this is actually so petty, dude, let’s stop. you know i love you, right?”

mingyu’s last resort makes its presence: a non-committal i love you. because at the end of the day, you’re still best friends. what was a little ‘i love you’ in today’s economy? nothing. especially when you’d hear him throw the phrase around all the time.

you stand up in defeat, “fine, let’s stop. you win.” you gesture for him to move to the side and he does so reluctantly when you glare at him like you’re genuinely mad. (you are.)

he follows you out the door, catching your elbow to slow you down. “don’t be like this. i know you’re mad at me.”

“i’m not mad. i'm tired and i just want to go back to my room,” you seethe, walking faster than him. he grabs hold of your shoulder turning you around.

“if you’re gonna storm off, at least go the right way.” you huff softly and let him steer you the right way to your dorm, hands still on you. you spend the way to the front of your room silently, waiting for mingyu to say something but he just does what he does best: take care of you.

as you reach the door of your room, he pauses, apologetic smile on display. “listen, let’s talk more tomorrow? get some sleep.” he reaches for your hair, tenderly running his fingers through the locks. there it is: the soft mingyu, his eyes wide as he stares you down for signs of stress.

his warm arm pressed againsts yours, you realize you don’t want him to just leave. you know the drill: tomorrow morning, he’ll text you to meet for lunch and everything will go back to being unsaid. maybe he’ll bring along seungcheol so you don’t bring anything up again. either way, it’ll be so natural you’ll think nothing ever happened. but you want something to happen.

so your hand settles around his bicep to hold on and partly to keep him in place. you lean in, “let me do one last thing and if you want to stop, i’m never bringing this up again. i promise.”

you don’t give mingyu a moment to react to your words and instead raise yourself up to his level, other hand on his chest, and press your lips to his. you kiss mingyu after the thirteen years that you’ve known him and the ten that you’ve wanted to. you counted the years just as you count the seconds that it takes for him to come to his senses and pull himself away.

he looks less upset than you imagined: more dazed. like he can’t believe what you’ve done. he looks at you with his lips parted and you have to tear your gaze apart, lest you should tear yourself apart with longing.

“y/n, i…” he looks away and that’s enough evidence you need. you step away from him, your easy smile back in its place, not before you pat his arm as it falls from you.

“it's okay. i understand. let’s be friends, mingyu,” you declare suddenly, catching him off-guard. you'd pulled all the stops and if he genuinely was uncomfortable with pushing the line between platonic and romantic, you would respect that.

he begins to say something but you don’t want to hear him speak, at least not right now when the sound of blood rushing to your head is the loudest it's ever been, and you certainly don’t want to falter again. you’ve decided. “good night."

—

mingyu should feel relieved. he really should be happy that you’re back to normal around him, friendly and playful like you’ve always been. he should count his blessings that you’ve accepted the status of your relationship with him as it is. but as he falls asleep that night, all that comes to his mind is the smile you’d sported as you asked to be friends.

it was all wrong: your lips against his, that was something of his dreams, not a reality he has to be escaping from. it replays in his head, your scent that he’d caught a whiff of now and then, whenever you’d wrap your arms around him. the heat of your skin he’d rationalize as the comforting presence of a friend for days later.

he’ll soon come to know how insanely stupid he’s being right now but until you knock some sense into him, he simply plays along with a sting he hides pretty well. he should, he’s been doing it for years now.

it’s the night of hoshi’s party already and he’s walking over to the location of the pregame, alone because according to a text fifteen minutes ago, you’re still not ready. you’d invited yunjin and some other friends to your and kazuha’s abode to apparently make the process easier, but if mingyu knows anything about the group, you’ve probably spent more time selecting the right song to play than get ready.

the door to dino and hoshi’s shared residence is already open as he strolls in, finding a group already on the floor, taking shots. he makes eye contact with jeonghan who beckons him closer and mingyu takes a seat next to him.

space is scarce so mingyu finds his arm pressed uncomfortably close to jeonghan’s, who oohs at mingyu’s fit, “ooh, you look positively sexy.”

mingyu grimaces, “do you have to put it like that?” he does look … positively sexy, mingyu admits, in the navy blue shirt he wore but— and here’s the punchline— with the buttons undone all the way to right above his navel.

“where’s y/n, by the way?” jeonghan asks, an eye at the entrance as he slides a shot glass toward mingyu. the question irks mingyu for obvious reasons and he keeps him waiting for a minute, waiting to down the liquid in glass (vodka unfortunately for his throat) to answer him. “um, she’s still getting ready. any minute now.”

“ha, that means she’ll be another ten. that’s a shame, i was hoping to pour her first shot.” jeonghan shrugs resentfully.

maybe the alcohol’s working faster since it’s been a while for mingyu, but his mouth runs faster than his head, “why’d you care? i thought you asked kazuha out a while ago.”

jeonghan raises a brow at that, “hmm. i did. but things did not work out so well. what with kazuha feeling guilty about y/n and… well, i also…”

“feel guilty?” mingyu asks, voice strained. he’s annoyed at having to listen to jeonghan’s side of the story. he could not care less about humanizing him and whatnot. he’s watched you suffer for far too long to be empathetic right now.

“yeah. and i thought i might like y/n, too, after all.” jeonghan says it so casually as if discussing his performance in a particularly challenging college course, not his feelings for a person who he’d recently rejected.

the word might pierces mingyu’s ears. the uncertainty behind it is in such stark contrast to his own… feelings toward you that he genuinely feels his breath heat up.

or maybe that’s just jeonghan when he leans over to refill his glass. “drink up, buddy.” mingyu’s just about ready to make a scene right now, shoving jeonghan’s hand off his back but suddenly jeonghan’s standing up, making his way to—

you. you’re here.

almost as soon as he catches sight of you, he looks away, pretending to give the vodka in his hand all the attention in the world, as he puts his lips to it and empties it. head is now light. that’s probably enough for now, he decides as he puts his glass down.

when he looks back up, you’re at the kitchen counter with yunjin and kazuha.. and jeonghan, who’s grinning as he hands out the bottles of fireball to the group, no doubt marketing it so convincingly that you’d think you came up with the idea yourself.

mingyu shoots to his feet, regretting it when his vision darkens but he pushes past, eyes focused on your figure— god, he forgot how hot you look in that dress. he tries to keep his thoughts in check as he approaches you, but it doesn’t help that your makeup’s even more meticulous than usual, eyes glittering and lips delightfully glossy.

he breaks into the space between you and jeonghan, arm against yours, catching your attention.

“my guy!!” you exclaim when you see him and then your eyes trail down to his chest and then back up to his face where his hair sits parted with the help of some gel. “you look like a slut. i love it.”

mingyu laughs, subjecting you to a similar once-over, “you’re one to talk.” your hair’s back in a bun of sorts, a rare occurrence because you seem to prefer have it around your face. he can’t help but pause at your exposed collarbones, the gold shadow you applied there earlier doing wonders to his already dazed headspace.

“is it already that part of the night where mingyu starts hitting on everyone?” yunjin complains, reserving the alternate version of her question (something along the lines of how impolitely he’d been eye-fucking you in front of everyone) for some other time as she nudges you to open the fireball in your hands.

you do so, looking at jeonghan who offers one to mingyu, which he refuses as he leans against the counter, hand silently at your back just in case. “you’re not drinking?” you ask, quietly enough only for the two of you, just in case he wasn’t comfortable sharing.

“nah, i just had two shots of vodka back there. trying not to mix for the sake of me tomorrow,” he mutters, patting your back encouragingly, “but let me know if you need help finishing that.”

jeonghan eyes mingyu on the side as the trio clink their bottles together and get to downing them. later, as things start picking up and more people make their way into the party, mingyu finds your arm. “do you want me to stay close by?” he frames the question in a way that you have an out, because he can tell that you’re still unhappy with him.

but you’re tipsy when your hand interlocks into his, “only if you’re going to dance like you mean it.”

the night goes better than you expect it to, especially since mingyu’s let loose for once. or perhaps… he’s always this carefree when drunk, palms kneading at your waist, keeping you close to his chest, which you try your best to not get too used to touching. he sure knows how to keep you on your toes (sometimes literally) even when wasted because you’re trying not to get too close. for you own sake.

that is until hoshi shows up beside you two, pulling you apart as he introduces you to a friend.. or a partner? you can’t hear in this state and just as you try to lean in closer to hear what he’s saying, you feel a presence at your shoulder, fingers poking you.

you turn to find jeonghan behind you, sloppy smile on his face as he screams something at you. you frown, asking him to repeat himself, hand on his bicep to steady yourself against the movement of the party.

“need to talk to you about something!” his words come at you, clearer. “right now?” you shout back, “what the fuck is it?” your body doesn’t want to stop moving so you groove against his side, and momentarily catching a glimpse mingyu’s heavy gaze on you. you almost completely stop then but jeonghan’s pulling you away, after him to a relatively emptier zone of the house.

you’re breathless, you realize, now that the spell of the music’s been broken. you rest against the damp wall behind you, uncaring as you look around for a liquid to quench your thirst. cunning as ever, jeonghan’s already handing you a plastic cup with a transparent liquid.

you narrow your eyes at him despite how wasted you are. “what’s this?”

he laughs, “i’m glad you’re vigilant as ever. this is water. cold. drink up.”

you comply, your throat throbbing ever so lesser after you’re done and you sigh in relief. “you might have broken my heart but you’re still an angel, jeonghan.”

“ahhh,” he exclaims joining your side against the wall. you frown when you take note of his fingers clasped together, almost fidgeting. yoon jeonghan, fidgety? that’s a first for you.

“actually, that’s what i wanted to talk to you about…”

when mingyu looks away from hoshi and his company to see if you were listening and when he finds out that you’re in fact in jeonghan’s embrace, he’s suddenly sober. and when your eyes find his for a moment, something in them changes and he calls out your name like a warning. but then jeonghan’s already leading you elsewhere.

mingyu wants to follow after you immediately but he realizes hoshi’s still talking to him. “hoshi, bro, can i find you in a while? i gotta make sure y/n’s okay.”

but hoshi stops him in his tracks, hand on his chest, “wait. please tell me you told her…?” he trails off uncertainly as mingyu catches on what he’s saying.

“i haven’t,” he admits, eyes still searching the crowd for you, “but i think it’s time that i do. only so much i can take.”

“that’s the spirit, man! okay, now go kiss y/n for me.” hoshi pushes mingyu with a start, not before the the latter shoots the man a glare and takes off in his search for you.

you’re still in that corner with jeonghan, who’s done narrating the past week’s revelations to you, all about his failed attempts with kazuha and his slow understanding of his real feelings about you. you’re far more unaffected that either of you was expecting, arms crossing in thought.

but then you say, “well, that’s fucking stupid. because i’ve realized i wasn’t as down bad for you as i once thought i was.” jeonghan’s smile falls a little with a disappointed sigh. “but,” you continue, “you know what i’m still curious about?”

when your hand creeps up jeonghan’s shoulder, he thinks he knows where you’re going with this. “i’ve wanted know if you’re really as good at kissing as everyone makes you out to be.” jeonghan’s already moving closer to you, enveloping your face in his hands, and his devilish grin’s spills out as his lips find your ear. “let’s find out?”

and that’s how mingyu finds you wrapped around jeonghan, making out like this was your last day living. and for a moment, he considers giving up and letting you have this. he even stops in his tracks in the crowd, his thoughts so easily drowned out by the music if he just lets go.

but his mind’s reeling when the sight of you kissing someone else just pushes him back a day ago when you were leaning up into him, soft breaths risking your lips against his and the way your body pressed into his just right. his feet move without a thought, then, shouldering through the bodies around the two in the corner.

you’re just pulling away from jeonghan to start to say something about how that wasn’t too bad when his body is lifted away from yours with an unannounced jerk. you gasp and then once again when mingyu’s face comes floating in front of yours.

“mingyu,” you breathe, unsteady from the series of events this past minute, “what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“what the fuck are you doing?!” he screams in your face, hands on both arms to keep you from moving. jeonghan’s walking to your side and you want to say something to apologize but you’re far too infuriated with the man in front of you to think.

“i don’t know! trying to get laid? finding happiness? love?!” you scream back with as much force. you call out jeonghan’s name, “i’m sorry. mingyu’s too drunk to—”

“jeonghan,” warns mingyu when the guy tries to break you free from his embrace, “can i have a minute with y/n.” it isn't a question.

jeonghan has the nerve to say, “maybe not. i wouldn’t leave you alone with her in this state.”

“oh, she’ll be just fine,” he replies and jeonghan simply looks at you for confirmation. but you’re still looking at mingyu, starting to tear up, head throbbing all at once. you stop fighting against his grip and mumble in defeat, “whatever.”

“if you’re going to lecture me about being bad, i don’t really want to hear it.” you’re back next to the kitchen counters with mingyu beside you. slowly, you sit yourself up on the surface, feeling exhausted. “i’ve heard it before.”

“no, that’s not what i’m doing. i just want you to stop and think clearly—”

you groan when you hear the beginnings of a typical you’ll regret this in the morning type talk, you slide off the counter and to your delight, you run into a guy holding up a can of beer for the taking. you’re quick to jump at it, grabbing it up from him and pulling the tab of the can open. just as you put the beer to your lips, ready to chug it, you feel it being pulled away, the next few moments occuring before you can comprehend anything.

suddenly you’re sitting back on the counter and your dress rides up when you feel mingyu push himself in between your legs. at first, you see his face close on yours and then the taste of beer meets your throat. no, it’s not just beer— it’s mingyu. his tongue spills onto yours, beer mixing with saliva and when you try to pull away, his hand at your neck tightens. you sit up straight and you feel his watch digging into your spine.

your head spins when you can finally breathe, inhaling only to cough out. heart in your throat, you look at mingyu in disbelief, “what the fuck!” but he’s already taking another sip of the beer and some of it slides down your throat into your dress, when his mouth finds yours again.

you’re weak in his arms, and the heat between your legs is only so rational. so you find yourself giving in and kissing him back when the liquid runs out, nails finding his scalp, earning you a deep groan that vibrates against your chest. that’s when he pulls away again, eyes finally meeting yours with an unprecedented intensity.

he leans in again, wet kiss against your cheek, followed by a grunted whisper of, “i love you so fucking much, y/n. it’s so hard to watch you run around with other men.”

you want to think you’re hearing things but mingyu doesn’t let you, another kiss right in the nape of your neck that sends shudders down your back. “i want to be yours so fucking bad. want to spoil you like you deserve.”

you swallow against the moan that rises in your throat, to pull mingyu’s face back to your eye-level, “then why aren’t you mine? why’d you push me away?” your voice breaks, betraying the pretense of indifference you try to prop up. his eyes soften, fingers brushing against your forehead.

his lips quiver and he sighs defeatedly. it’s a miracle you can hear him with all that noise around you. but you hear him clear as day against your hair when he finally says, “i’m scared. of loving you too much, of being too much. and i’m scared of losing you.”

mingyu’s imagined telling you these exact words before and how you’d react to them infinite times before but when you giggle into his collarbone, he pulls away with a blank look. your forehead is against his all over again and for the second time night you say, “that’s fucking stupid! if you were going to lose me, it would’ve happened a while ago.”

of all the things he’d imagine you saying in response, this was the simplest option, so unlike your usual overthinking self. maybe it’s the alcohol and adrenaline in your system speaking but mingyu somehow feels comforted, because maybe it really is that simple. it would’ve happened if it was going to. or maybe mingyu’s too drunk to make sense of it all right now.

so his lips are moving against yours once again, without warning, your breath all his when his arms tighten once against around you. you’re laugh grounds him enough to break away. you open your mouth to complain about the distance when mingyu’s back against your skin.

“shut the fuck up,” he groans, the command making you hotter than you’d like to admit. your legs close around his ass, pulling him closer and his hand slips across your boobs. the friction of his palm against the tight fabric of your dress makes you let out an undignified moan into mingyu.

that’s when he knows he needs to take you to somewhere more private for reasons more than one. you’re too lightheaded to move yourself so mingyu’s carrying out the house without a word anyone you two came with. it’s only when the cold air hits you that you realize you’re outside.

you struggle against mingyu until you're back on your feet and stop. “where are we going? i’m— do i know you, mister guy?” for a second, mingyu’s heart sinks when he wonders if you thought you were just making out with a stranger. then, you say, “i need to go back and find mingyu. gotta kiss him.”

ignoring the blush that colors his face, he grabs hold of your elbow, “i am mingyu, idiot. and we’re going to my room.” you shake your head to clear your vision, eyes widening when you recognize him. your hand finds his face with a light laugh, “ah! it’s my big guy.” the name doesn’t help mingyu’s condition at all, so he’s pulling you after him faster than before.

back at the party, kazuha starts panic when she realizes she’s lost hold of you, unable to locate you anywhere within the party. she tugs at yunjin’s sleeve who looks over in concern, “what happened to y/n? i can’t find her anywhere.” yunjin laughs at that, covering her mouth with her hand. “don’t worry about her. i saw her and mingyu leave together earlier. she’s probably in heaven by now, if i’m right.”

“hmm?” kazuha pauses as a thought pops up into her head, “wait… did they…?” yunjin grins knowingly, “yup. it really was high time they fucked.” the former lets out a satisfied giggle, “i know. they were so obvious without even being together. i was getting tired.”

“you were getting tired?!” you gasp at mingyu later in the night, panting against his pillow. you’re on your back and he throws you a tshirt of his to sleep in now that your dress is… demolished. you look at it sadly out of the corner of your eye. “i really liked that dress,” you whine, as he picks the remains of it up with a somewhat smug grin, “planned to wear it out again.”

“i couldn’t risk that. you looked too good in it,” he chuckles to himself as he jumps into bed with you. you sit up, feigning anger as you slip the cotton over your head, warming up when the smell of mingyu greets you. “i don’t know if i could resist seeing your tits out like that.”

you hit his chest hard with a lighthearted scoff, “i knew it! you’re such a pervert. not just a pervert, you’re also a brute.” you groan as you rub your thighs together gingerly. mingyu props himself up, pulling you down into a hug, rubbing your back. “sorry, does it hurt a lot?”

“it’ll hurt more in the morning,” you relax in his arms, pressing a loving kiss into his hair, “should’ve known you went so rough. asshole.” you giggle when he pulls away in disbelief at the last insult.

“how could you—!” you roll away from him, laughing. he shifts closer, caging you against the wall behind you, “hey, you can’t say stuff like fuck i knew you’d have a big dick and then expect me to go all vanilla! do you know what that does to a guy?”

you shriek in embarrassment, “don’t bring that up now!” your ears redden when mingyu forces you by the chin to look up at him. “besides, where do you think the nicknames like big gyu and big guy came from?”

mingyu’s jaw falls open at the revelation and you break out into a fit of laughter at his mindblown expression. “how- how long have you been thinking about my di-”

you hit him to stop him, “ever since you kept pushing me away,” you run a hand down his side, sly grin on your swollen lips, “and i had to come up with something if i wanted to get myself off alone.”

with an exasperated groan, he falls against you, suffocating you as his body goes limp above yours. you let out a gasp when you feel him hardening against your leg and he speaks into your neck, “you’re seriously telling me i’ve been missing out on taking you like this for… for how long now?”

you kiss his cheek, hand slipping down his boxers with a soft exhale, “a while. and if you hadn’t come to your senses today… well, i’d all but given up on you today. when jeonghan kissed me, i was just going to—”

suddenly your breath escapes you, mingyu’s hand around your throat and his lips on yours with a loud grunt. he stops your hand in its movements, “please tell me you’re not talking about jeonghan while— fuck!” he gasps when you bite his lower lip to protest his hand on yours. his hand gives way and you’re palming the tent in his boxers again, pushing him down against the bed, so thankful he doesn’t have a rooommate in times like this.

you place a kiss at the corner of his lips and trail down his chest, shirt long gone, before muttering, “forgive me?”

—

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

i really want to write a more wholesome ending but have not the time or energy right now, so i'll be back with a shorter spin-off/ epilogue of sorts about how you and mingyu as a couple work out, how your friends react, some skinship, etc.

anyway, this is my official announcement that i've become a baby carat :] didn't know how much i was missing out on before svt so this is very fun. so far, jeonghan's my favorite little guy, although as is clear from this... mingyu makes me do things. on the roster are: minghao and joshua. hopefully there will be more svt fics in the future. no promises <3 goodbye friends and foes!!

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navybrat817 · 3 days

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Would ceo Bucky and his girl attend the met gala? If so, any ideas on dresses perhaps!

They would, nonnie! As far as the dress, it would depend on the theme. Are we talking recent theme, a past theme, or a made up general theme?

Goes With the Theme

Pairing: CEO!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Bucky thinks his suit goes with a gala theme. You slightly disagree. Word Count: Over 1.2k Warnings: Established relationship, banter, flirting, implied sex, implied breeding, brief mention of past insecurities and bad ex, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?) and he worships you. A/N: I blame @whisperlullaby and @targaryenvampireslayer. Before our couple has Cupcake and Bean. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky refused to tell you in advance what he was wearing to the upcoming gala. He said something about him wanting to surprise you. Of course, he knew exactly what you were wearing since he wanted the designer to make you a gown fit for a queen. He would’ve thrown in a tiara if you asked. It was too much, really.

But if you asked Bucky, nothing was too much for you.

The amount of money spent was just about worth it when he exited the bathroom and looked ready to drop to his knees when you spotted you in your dress. The colors suited you. The fit was like a glove. It was a work of art, really.

“Fuck,” Bucky whispered, his eyes turning a darker shade of blue as you carefully twirled. It was exactly the reaction you wanted. “How exactly am I supposed to keep my hands off you tonight? A man can only take so much.”

“Because a lot went into this dress and you’re not allowed to tear apart,” you smiled before you took in his appearance.

Bucky Barnes turned head wherever he went and the head to toe black ensemble would be no exception. The slicked back hair was a good look on him and there was no denying that your man knew how to accessorize. He also wore enough custom suits for you to know what did and didn’t suit him. He would never fail to make you stop in your tracks from a single stare.

The man never missed a thing though, regarding you carefully as you stared. “You don’t like what I’m wearing,” he stated.

“No, I love it,” you assured him. And you did. You didn’t want him to think otherwise since the man could turn a paper bag into a thing of art and beauty if he chose to. “It’s just…”

“Just what?” He asked, holding his jacket open so you could get a glimpse of the shirt beneath molded to his torso. “I think I look good.”

You blinked and took a breath so you could answer him. Why did he have to be so distracting? “Not like you need the ego boost, but yes. You do look good,” you said. His smirk almost made you lose your breath again. “But does it really go with the theme?”

“What?” He shrugged. “Isn’t the theme ‘floral’?”

“It is and flowers are usually bright,” you pointed out. “You couldn't have gone with a floral jacket?”

“This is my interpretation of the theme.” He pointed to one of the black flowers. “Besides, this is a flower and it’s on my jacket. Therefore, it's a floral jacket.”

You tried not to smile. It was tough to argue with that logic. “Okay. Yes. There are flowers on your jacket, but-”

He cut you off with a smug smile. “So, I'm right.”

And wasn’t it just like a CEO to argue like this? And wasn’t it just like you to enjoy it? “You’re utterly ridiculous,” you giggled, gesturing to yourself. “Not to mention, I'm pretty much wearing the opposite of you!”

“And people will still know we’re together, Mrs. Barnes,” he winked. You loved being his wife. “Do you know why I wore this?”

“Enlighten me.”

“Because a black suit? Any man can wear one. I’ll blend in with the crowd. But you in your gown? All eyes will be on you, as they should be,” he explained, your cheeks hot as he swept his gaze over you. “And I know I won’t take my eyes off you for a second tonight.”

“Oh,” you breathed, clearing your throat at the unexpected tears that clogged it. Your ex tried to make you feel bad about your body when all Bucky wanted to do was celebrate and worship it. More than that, he saw your beauty beneath the surface. “Thank you.”

Though you wanted to argue that Bucky wouldn’t blend in with the crowd. It wasn’t possible. He was too striking for that with his blue eyes and jawline. Too dominant with his large body. And too well known.

He didn’t care about that kind of attention. He was the kind of man who wanted to show you off. Not as a prize or because you were his, but because he loved you.

His eyes softened before they went dark again. “Fuck, you are so beautiful. A goddess,” he said, his voice rough as he stepped toward you. “We may not even make the gala.”

As much as his compliment warmed your heart, boosted your confidence, and dampened your panties, you shook your head. “Oh, no. Don't you even think about it. Do you know how long it took me to get into this dress? That doesn’t include perfecting my makeup. We are going.”

You nearly lost your nerve when he groaned and took another step toward you. That sound was one of your favorites, especially when it was your mouth, hand, or pussy drawing it out of him. “Cupcake, you’re always a vision. You don’t need a fancy dress or a stitch of makeup to be beautiful,” he said, licking his lips. “And you don’t need to wear a stitch of clothing right now either.”

“No.” You firmly pointed a finger at him. You were lucky he didn’t grab your wrist to kiss it. “You promised we'd make an appearance and the last thing you need to do is tell people we didn't show because you couldn't keep it in your pants for a few hours.”

The kicked puppy dog expression was one you had seen on Steve Rogers before, but it was adorable on Bucky. You held your chin high because you’d fall into his arms if you didn’t. “Fine,” he conceded, gripping your chin with infinite care. “But I make no promises that I'll behave in the limo on the way home.”

You’d enjoy your small victory over your handsome CEO and husband for the time being because he’d make you pay for it in the best way later. “Yes, Boss.”

“My perfect wife,” he whispered, delicately moving his hand along the column of your throat. Did he feel how fast your heart beat? “I may just have to knock you up before the night’s over, Mrs. Barnes.”

Your womb clenched at his words, imagining the filthy things he’d grunt in your ear as he bred you. It was almost enough to make you skip the gala, but why not build up the anticipation? “I’ll be disappointed if you don’t, Mr. Barnes,” you said, moving close enough for your lips to touch his.

The breath that rushed out of his lungs was like a kiss, teasing what would come before the night was over. “Don’t tease me, Cupcake.”

“Who said I was teasing you, Boss?” You murmured, pulling back before he could kiss you properly. “Time to go.”

He swore under his breath as he adjusted his pants. You were the only one who could get under his skin. “I’ll knock you up in the limo. Don’t test me.”

Your smile widened. What Bucky didn’t know was that underneath your dress was one of his favorite lacy floral numbers. A surprise and reward for him going to the gala. It would make him fall a little bit more in love with you once he undressed you.

Plus, it went with the theme.

“Looking forward to it.”

Another out of order AU. I'm so sorry, lovelies. And sorry to the nonnie for not fully answering the question! Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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taegularities · 4 months

Text

colour me in: blooming | jjk (m)

Summary: You're the flower blossoming in Jungkook's living room, no matter how relentless the rain. And you're the sun he tirelessly orbits — warm as a home.

➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: fwb/f2l, fake dating; hints of angst, fluff overload, suggestive ➳ warnings: full jk pov!, fluff fluff fluff, but also crying, bits of insecurities, mommy and daddy issues, their friendddsss <3, oc's favourite blanket smells like him <3, his feelings for her are consuming him in a gorgeous way 🥺, grocery shopping 🍏 and then a housewarming party, jk chocolate chip nips appreciation (oc pinches them lol), horniness, implied sex + implied boner, sexual tension, flirting and teasing and bickering, yearning, convos about their relationship/life, cooking together hehe, jk is so… jk, kissing/making out, the ending ♡ ➳ word count: 15.6k ➳ a/n: domesticity is my favourite city and i never wanna leave lol. i've genuinely been enjoying fluff more than i ever thought i would. this chapter made me so damn happy and i hope it has the same effect on you guys, too <3 let me know how you liked it; feedback is always appreciated 🥺 also, there are lil sub-headings to avoid confusion with the timeline!! enjoy!! 🤍 ➳ a/n2: even though i am a tiny bit late… happy birthday @jkaxl. love you so much, axelle <3 ➳ listen to: daylight by taylor swift (ty anon <3) | full collaborative playlist 🤍

SERIES MASTERPOST | TAGLIST MASTERLIST | WIPs

”Are you happy?”

“I’m… I’m adjusting to it all. It’s new. But so far I feel— relieved.”

“Okay.” He pauses. “I’m sorry I didn’t encourage that feeling earlier. But… you know. You found your way on your own, and somehow, I find that just as remarkable. If not so much more.”

“Thank you.”

Silence breaks the dialogue, but there are still shreds of unspoken words he’s not letting out yet. Right on the tip of his tongue, resting quietly; so you wait. Let your weary gaze slump to your lap, blinking until you hear a rustle and a—

“Do you want to come over sometime?”

You don’t know.

So you respond in just that uncertainty, “Maybe at some point? When it’s… not so overwhelming anymore.”

“I understand. Hey,” another break in his speech, “I’m proud of you.”

Your heart suspends for a fraction of a moment, but you feel the seething, searing pain. Fresh, clumping up your throat.

“…Thank you.”

THE SUNDAY AFTER THE PRESS CONFERENCE

When Jungkook locks the door, the apartment is quiet, but the living room light still glowing.

Still fired up and hot, the cool back of his hand pats his warm neck and cheek. Your name threatens to tumble off his tongue, but an oddly calm feeling advises against it. And as he carries his bag into the living room, setting it down next to a big flower pot you so wanted, he sees why.

Because you’re curled up on the couch, temple against the back of it, legs pulled in. Your favourite blanket — that you swear constantly smells like him — is draped half over you, falling off one of your shoulders.

You’re sound asleep.

Jungkook recognises the pout even from afar; lets his eyes drift from your face to the hand peeking out of the blanket. Brushing a piece of paper that is holding on for dear life, attempting not to slip off your lap.

What if he never moved? If he kept staring?

Back in college, one of his dearest professors used to say, “You know it’s art when even blinking feels like a waste of time. You don’t want to spend a second not looking at it.”

That very semester is still a major component of Jungkook’s memory. Ever since, he’s seen a handful and a dozen and a hundred pieces that matched the words once uttered.

Just, never as much as today.

The sky has obscured since he left two hours ago — he wonders how fast that time passed for you. Either way, he reckons you didn’t rest until your body forced you to. Because it’s not anywhere near bedtime; but the changes in your life constantly add to your exhaustion.

He wanted to help. He did all morning before you sent him away, arguing that, “You’re already doing too much. And you hate paperwork anyway!”

To which he expressed, “But I don’t hate you or having you here!”

“Just go!” You reached to his left nipple, poking it, and he, wearing a frisky smirk, instinctively threw a protective hand over it. “The muscles demand your attention desperately. Just don’t look at other girls’ butts, ‘kay?”

He chuckled.

You made it sound like a life-altering goodbye to a year-long journey instead of a brief trip to the gym. He nodded solemnly, nearly saluting as he agreed, “You’re right. Gonna make sure I’m able to crush you extra hard.”

But it seems you crushed and knocked yourself out well enough. And that after he sent out various emails with you, drafting and crafting a battle plan, googling salient issues and their solutions, and writing down lists of everything still left to do before you can actually move in.

The two of you are lucky the landlord is laid-back. Usually, they don’t let anyone move in so quickly; demand a couple months. And you’ll already be settling here officially the very next.

Not that it makes any difference.

You already spend your dusks and dawns here, clinging, reluctant to go home. And he won’t tell you to; he’d be a fool to. Plus, he hates his bed cold.

Jungkook’s steps are slow, muscles painful to the touch. He sweeps his tresses back as he nears your slumbering, balled up form, soon pressing a hand into the arm of the couch. Suppressing a groan, he leans in; frees your closed eye from a lock before he plants a kiss next to it.

You stir with the softest flutter of your eyelashes, just a teeny tiny bit.

God. You tilt his world off its axis.

“Baby,” he whispers.

It must be pulling you out of the remnants of your doze, because your muscles awaken, corners of your lips twitching. The movement of your legs finally pushes the paper off the blanket, and Jungkook hurries to catch it before it can drift to the floor; places it on the table.

He kneels; and for the briefest, smallest moments, you flinch when your pupils eventually align with his. Then, relaxation floods you anew, and you grip the blanket, sliding it back over you — only for it to glide down again.

You smile — a tired beam, accompanied by a sigh. Not quite wide, because you’re not fully there yet, but still so genuine. Stretching a little, you murmur, “You’re back.”

“And you’re still working,” he scolds, albeit cushioning his words by bringing a fingertip to your jaw. Flicking affectionately, softly. “Did you eat?”

“Mhmmm. But it’s—” Your hand taps for something, moving under the blanket; and a second later, you’re lighting up your phone, squinting at it. “It’s not late. Gonna eat with you again. I’m not that tired anymore.”

As if on cue, you yawn, tears of weariness collecting. You interrupt it with a gentle snicker and promise, “I mean it.”

The lopsided smile emerges on his features quickly. The drowsy, vulnerable tone in your voice caresses his heart like a gust… but the meaning behind it doesn’t pass by him so fast.

“Don’t overwork yourself, okay?” he repeats for the fifth time today alone; it’s become a constant habit. A reminder, like clockwork. “The body knows when you do.”

“No. I feel great.”

“Just. Be nice to yourself, munchkin.”

“I am,” you defend, attempting to stress the verb, but not quite getting there, “I am. Don’t worry so much.”

An impossible demand; but how would he explain it to you?

Despite the shake of his head, he still gives in, “Okay. I’ll shower and be back in a sec, yeah?”

He waits for your confirmation until you hum in unintelligible agreement, moving back in to plant a kiss on your forehead. Rushes to the shower, washes off today’s effort.

Wet hair strands pushed back, he finds you shuffling and organising the papers you read and filled in today, placing them neatly in the middle of the table. You look more awake now, delivering a content smile before heading to the kitchen with him.

Only, your mind might not be entirely unfogged yet — because your movements are slow. Different from how he handles the stir fry that the two of you cooked for lunch together.

You were proud of your creation — told Jungkook how you’re still far from the skills he possesses, but not bad to start with and improving every day. Seasoning better, understanding how to cut faster without hurting yourself in the process.

It’s lovely, watching the contentment spread in your eyes.

Yet, Jungkook always makes sure to stand close to your back, hands lifted, persistently ready to salvage the situation if need be.

But right now, judging from your clearly burdened brain, he bestowed a relatively simple task upon you. And you look so cute doing it — bun all messy, shoulders slumped, sporting (after stealing) his joggers since they’re so ridiculously comfortable, so get your own.

He side-eyes you every now and then, forbearing a chuckle; but when your lower lip juts in concentration, he can’t help but sling an arm around your waist. The jug containing the iced tea shakes, and you hold the glass carefully, voicing a little, “Oh— I… Kook.”

You’re wide-eyed and caught off guard; blinking when he tilts his head and leaves a kiss under your ear.

You raise your shoulder at the tickling sensation, and when you call his name again, your voice is reprimanding. But he could pick out the endearment even in his sleep.

That’s how it goes every hour of the day; sweet and new ever since you started frequenting his place even more often than before.

Something has occurred since the press conference. Two days only — but the universe has changed. Maybe it has expanded faster than ever and birthed a couple billion more stars, made even the nights brighter. He doesn’t know.

All he does recognise is that unnamed, newfound feeling spreading in his chest, and he’s been unblurring it. Bit by bit. Letting it take on a form that will soon consume him. He’s sure.

And soon, there’ll be a fitting word and definition matching this phenomenon, too.

It’s triggered by even the smallest things.

Like by the sound of your steps when you walk through the apartment. Or by the way you hum your favourite song all the time, unconsciously; then singing the line you hold dearest to your heart before resuming to the hum.

Trust in me when I say…

Or even… by how you’re facing him an hour later, satiated and cross-legged on the bed as you finish up today’s work.

You’ll have to notify the bank and whatnot of your move soon, so you need to brainstorm the relevant institutions that the new address and information will go to. It shouldn’t take too long; you’re diligent, so you’ll just be noting down all numbers next to the places you need to contact and then crash.

Jungkook soon takes over that task, lips moving as he reads the words, writes them down. And amidst the end-of-the-day chore, you crane your neck to read, and tell him, “You have such pretty handwriting.”

“So do you. I didn’t know you made circles over your lower case I’s,” he looks closer to where you scribbled, tapping the pen against a letter, “and awwh. The curves of the T’s!”

You giggle before you add, “I’ve heard a pretty handwriting symbolises inner beauty, by the way.”

“Ohh, so we’re both beautiful.”

“No doubt. We need to take more pictures… we look great together.”

That’s what’s been filling the hours of these days, too, Jungkook supposes. The airy, light atmosphere within the four walls he’s come to share with you. Laughter and shared glances, despite the stack awaiting you — because it signifies far more than paperwork.

Which is why it surprises him when a subtle switch occurs, suddenly and unannounced.

When he looks at your fingers lifting a paper, he can’t say what you’re seeing, but your ardour falters a little. Crooning dying, expression not matching the smile on the pictures you spoke of.

Delicately, you trace the edges of the document before putting it back down, aligning it with the rest of the pile. Pushing the whole thing to the side, you sigh, and he, a silent observer up to this moment, asks, “What’s wrong?”

“Hm?”

“You’re thinking about something. And I don’t like it when you’re quiet like this.”

“Oh… It’s nothing.” The shrug is subtle and unconvincing, and the tight shutting of your lips so telling to him. He senses the tension before you finally reveal, “Dad called today. And…” He waits; another shrug. “It’s nothing. He just asked how I was holding up. And that he’s sorry things had to escalate on Friday.”

Ah. Odd.

Jungkook would never say it to you: Because he has never been one to talk families down, sever a bond by voicing his opinion, even if the relationship’s already hanging by a thread. No… he’d never say it to you.

But.

There’s a dull realisation in the back of his mind; and it evokes quiet anger in him. That… there was always a potential anchor inhabiting the same house as you, but never serving as one.

Hidden behind your mother’s back, letting it all pass — probably for you to build character.

Jungkook has always assumed that his dad did just that, too. Throwing him into the world without support, letting a seemingly irresponsible teenager, and then young adult, experience hardships in order to learn how to deal with them.

In contrast to your father, his dad wouldn’t apologise to him… yet, in the end, morally and emotionally, both your families fucked up big time.

“Oh…”

You nod, elaborating, “He wanted to know if I was going to visit him. But I need a bit of time.”

Right… thinking about it, you haven’t seen your father in a while. And your mother hasn’t blown up your phone since Friday evening — when you came out of the glass building, with equally glassy yet hopeful eyes.

You truly must have let off steam in there for her to back away.

“Is that why you were saying you’ll be rushing to the house after work?”

Because as far as he recalls, you’ve been talking about gathering your stuff immediately after working hours — or on Saturday mornings. Never any other time. Because you know they won’t be at home then.

“Yeah,” you confirm, “I feel horrible neglecting him like that, because he seems to be glad that I’m happy, but…”

Your lips point downward; you clear your throat, but it doesn’t hide the tremble in your voice, “I just wish he’d defended me sometimes. Dunno. Maybe he did and I just don’t know about it? And it never worked? It’s what I like to think.”

God…

“Because,” you continue your vent, “he was strict but not like her, and… Sometimes he did recognise bullshit when he saw it. I’d hear them talk and he wouldn’t always see eye to eye with her. But a bit more open support would’ve been cool, you know?”

Shit, how it angers Jungkook.

The knot in your throat; how you avert his gaze; the looming tears. It all angers him.

He moves his hand to your knee, keeping his voice and heart steady for you. Simply uttering, “Baby…”

“And… and then today he suddenly seemed… I don’t know.” You take a deep breath, shaking your head. Your blinking fastens, and you vehemently dodge Jungkook’s eyes. “I dunno how casually he said it, but he told me he was proud.”

The way you emphasise the word… as if it’s a stranger to you, like you’re trying it out…

Jungkook sighs, heart and chest heavy, muttering so kindly—

“Oh, sweetheart… Ah, come here—”

His palm shoves the papers aside some more, uncaring, and brings you closer to his body. Yearning for your embrace, he shifts with you until your legs wrap around each other. Fingers slither to your chin to raise it, and then pinch your cheek adoringly.

The bedroom light falls into your sparkling eyes, shiny with the dampness. You’re not crying, but you sniffle for a moment.

“Of course he is,” he whispers, keeping your face upright, “what’s there not to be proud of? You’re so fucking cool.”

“…You think?”

“Of course I do,” he repeats, “you’re so inspiring and smart and funny and awesome. I’m the proudest of you, in fact.”

The heat increases beneath his palms as your cheek smoulders, pupils promptly softening. As if the outline of your irises is blurring, relinquishing the harder, unwanted emotions.

“I could probably live with just that,” you respond, managing a tender laugh and mixing it with your sniffles. “But…”

But perhaps, the heavy heart won’t get entirely lighter just yet. And Jungkook’s turns half blue at the same time as yours.

“I wish my mom could react the same way instead of being so… stubborn. I mean, it’s a good thing that I want to stand on my own two feet! And aside from work — she also saw me in the summer, and she knew how I felt without you. She sees how I feel now with you, too, and yet.”

You puff out some air, as if you’d been dying to rant; and he imitates the release of a quiet breath, but for wholly other reasons.

Because…

Along with the melancholy drenching your voice, the guilt shoots an arrow to his heart. Guilty about this damn summer; about the days he nearly gave up on you. If he could encase your fractured soul in a quick cure…

“I’m sorry she keeps hurting you, baby. And… I’m sorry you cried. Being sad over a loser like me was the last thing you needed, so…”

He’s half joking; lifting the corner of his lips. You seem to know, too, because you match his smile — still pledging, “Being sad sucked, but… you’re right here now and. I do need you.”

It’s so easy for you to tinge his entire being in a bright pink. Because somewhere in the depths of his mind, he admits that he wanted to hear this. That he wants you to need him as much as he needs you.

“And I’m right here to stay,” he promises. “Even if she doesn’t. Okay?”

“Yeah… yeah. But maybe someday she can be proud, too.”

It’s fucking you up more than he thought. Probably more than you thought.

“I’m sure,” he guarantees, “some people accept their mindsets as the only truth, angel, but one day she’ll come around.” You only nod. So he adds, “I’ll fix this with you.”

“Fix it?”

“The issues you deal with. And the ones I deal with. You and I together, okay?”

Your motions are slow. The nod is barely one; maybe because his hands refuse to establish yet another distance to your skin. And maybe because you’ve tired yourself out once and for all. The slight slouch is telling; your body needs some rest.

Enough with the papers.

“You know… somehow, this excites me,” he says. The grin emerging confuses you for a while; the flicker in your eyes is as delightful as the moment. “Pulling out all the stops and making things better with you, I mean. I wouldn’t wanna do it with anyone else.”

And he’d know. Because if he’d been comfortable enough, he would’ve long ago; he had the chance to. Yet, the courage never surfaced — until with you.

His touch drops from your face to the side of your neck, shaking you gently before he says, “You excite me all the time.”

Shouldn’t be news to you — bearing his unceasing kisses and everlasting words in mind, his bliss is difficult to miss. There’s barely any containing it around you.

And maybe you know what he means; because judging from your dreamy smile, you can’t seem to muster any self-control either. Feeling the joy bubbling, growing, simmering in the middle of your stomach until it explodes and you—

Wrap your arms around his neck abruptly. Attacking him until balance abandons him, falling back onto the bed before you land on top of him. The hug is crushing, your body pushing into his with every sliver of fondness you can summon.

He could say something. Blurt more admissions dipped in honey. But he doesn’t question it; doesn’t comment on it. Only relishes the silence and your warm cheek against his chest, cuddling in.

And sighs in contentment.

A WEEK LATER

You’re messing up the structured system he established for himself.

The groceries are scattered in the cart; instead of playing Tetris with them, as he usually does, you’re piling them up randomly, unaware of the mess.

Jungkook doesn’t have the heart to tell you that the pack of eggs isn’t supposed to be balancing on top of other products like this. Because holy shit, you are buzzing. Not because you don’t know how to grocery shop, but because of the conversation this morning.

”I've got a whole list in my head. We’ll need a shit ton to make this work tonight.”

You were taming your hair as you listened; watching your reflection follow your movements — and as he readied himself for the day, Jungkook watched from afar.

You’d decided that for now, a week was enough to mourn the loss of whatever familial bonds could’ve been. Just last night you told him that starting this new life means an opportunity to gradually leave your sorrow behind, even if it takes some time.

And in celebration of the new arc you’re so joyfully approaching, you’d decided to host a housewarming of some sorts.

Jungkook’s friends already know his place; but the pronoun has changed. This time, you want them to step into your apartment, too.

Securing a hair strand with a clip, you asked, “Do we have it all here?”

“Not everything. Gotta go grocery shopping later.”

“Ohhh…”

Your fingers floated to the edge of the wash basin. You held it in your grip, leaning over it a little, staring into your own eyes quietly. He checked with another step closer to the bathroom, glimpsing at the expression in the mirror.

Calm, but thinking.

“What is it?” he asked, pulling his jeans’ zipper close.

“Uhh. Do you need help?”

“You should rest. You’re already doing so m—”

“No, no, I mean…” You let the sink go, folding your fingers. Inhaling for just a moment when your eyes fell on his bare torso. “I want to go grocery shopping with you. It’s Saturday and I have nothing to do until tonight. So… Please don’t go without me?”

The big eyes and saccharine question went straight to his heart; like one of Cupid’s pointy, sharp arrows targeting the exact middle of the organ. What else could he have done other than breaking into a breathy laugh — wide grin building a lively start to the morning.

“Of course. I’ll wait until you’re ready then.”

You raised a triumphant, tight fist, and he shook his head in delight. Diminished the distance between your bodies, a hand pressing into the back of your head before pulling you to his lips and placing a kiss to your forehead. Right before—

“Hey— ouch?”

It didn’t hurt; but he still felt the fingers pinching his tiny nipples — and heard your cheeky, “Why are they always hard? And why are you always shirtless, Jeon?”

He didn’t argue that changing into outdoor clothes didn’t count. Instead, the bright golden light you cast in his mind distracted him, taking him back.

You’d said that to him before; everything has changed since then.

“Why are you smiling like this?” you ask, holding a pack of four yellow apples in one hand, red ones in the other.

“Hm?” Jungkook rubs a hand over his cheek, feeling the glee in his countenance before flattening the dimples. “It’s nothing. I’m just liking how much fun you’re having.”

“I am! But most of all because I can’t wait to cook with you today.”

Your words instantly conjure pictures of a potential evening; idyllic ones mixing with utter chaos. Rushing and cutting and serving — but for one of the very first times together. Only milestones ahead.

A higher pitched gushing threatens to fall out of Jungkook, right here in the fruit aisle. But instead, you raise your hands again, asking, “Which ones?”

“Hmmm… neither. Let’s get the green ones.”

You let your arms fall, a finger pointing towards him, and say, “Ohhh. Good call.”

And then you proceed to complicate the cart labyrinth again. What a savagery. Jungkook waits until you’ve turned around and works on reorganising again, following his system. Then, he thinks — this could be draining, but it’s not.

Because you keep each other entertained. And neither of you bothers about the gapes you receive.

Not when he leans over the cart, shoving it in teeny tiny steps; continuing when he realises it makes you laugh.

Or, when you cheer once you find something the two of you like that nobody else enjoys; accompanied by exclaimed Ohhhhs and Haaas. And not as you argue when you find something to disagree about.

It seems that you do not dig dates, and he, the friendly omnivore, takes playful offence in that. He teases you across half the supermarket until you turn the tables, picking up an eggplant and interrupting him with a,

“Look! This is you.”

The roll of his eyes only veils his amusement a little, he’s sure. Because your enthusiasm remains steady, including the impish pull of his beige Supreme beanie over his eyes and a kiss to his cheek that paints the spot in a rosy dust.

Pointing to a glass of honey, Jungkook soon fights back, “And this is you.”

“…This is way too sweet and I do not know how to counter it.”

“Romance tends to make people speechless, darling.”

Your expression resembles an ellipsis; whether you’re out of answers or overwhelmingly affected by the selection of his words, he doesn’t know. He knows he’d short circuit if you ever said that to him.

“Fair,” is what you settle on, though, “wouldn’t I know what brain outages your romantic ass causes.”

You’re the model definition of a cheesy, movie-esque couple. Taehyung and Eun differ from the nature the two of you showcase; they already threatened to bring paper bags in case Jungkook and you overdo it tonight.

Can’t blame them. The world is certainly pink-tinted when you bicker and jest at the register; or when you hurry through an Ikea — courtesy of your last minute plan to buy plants — to make it home and cook in time.

Just this morning, you were daydreaming about the concept of furniture retailers and how such shops allow building a home with the most special person.

And then, as if wanting to clarify your sentiments, you turned in the car, facing him as you struggled with the belt, just to say, “Which is you for me. I’m building a home with you.”

Jungkook’s legs still melt into a puddle whenever he remembers the softness in your words, and the puppy gaze you threw as you finally leaned back in your seat.

Which is why it’s such a shame that the clock is ticking so relentlessly.

Because your initial elation turns into disapproval only for today as you wade through the labyrinthine, time-consuming design the store is so popular for. Trying to keep up with Jungkook’s pace and hastening across the rooms.

And even then, neither of your laughter ceases; you turn the most stressful situations into deep solace. The pressure soon gives way to a calm satisfaction the moment your apartment door opens.

You set up the few plants you brought; some under the window, some on the desk in the bedroom, right next to the Beauty and the Beast rose, and a jade plant in the living room. For good luck, you said.

And then, after resting for five minutes and abandoning all further breaks, you start work in the kitchen. Which proves as cooperative as he thought — that is, until you get into a friendly argument about whether to do the dishes now or later.

“One of us keeps cooking. The other washes up what we don’t need anymore,” Jungkook explains, repeating it over and over.

To which you keep defending, “Or. One cooks one dish. The other handles the second. And we finish cooking faster and then do the dishes together.”

His fingers pinch the bridge of his nose, and he whines, “It won’t make much of a difference!”

“Well, if it doesn’t, then we could do either!”

“BUT… it might get crowded if we work at the stove at the same time, babe—”

“You just don’t trust me with th—”

“Keep yelling at me like that, and—” Jungkook interjects, and you wince a tiny bit; but he continues a mere, barely lasting moment later, “and I swear I’ll kiss you.”

Beat of silence. Your eyebrows are still furrowed. And then, amidst the agitation, you erupt into laughter. Blend it with the chortle he can’t suppress, either.

To Jungkook, the sound is akin to a song — and he could spin the record all day long.

Spoiler warning — you do not kiss. But the lively chuckles and free-spirited conversations dye the atmosphere and flavour it. Its sweetness feels like a feathery kiss, too.

And whether it’s that very unlimited sense of familiarity, gradually growing, or your unwavering teamwork at last — you’re surprised when the late afternoon transforms into an early evening, a dimly blue, cloudy sky already changing into different shades of grey.

Time passed fast; but the hour-hand on the clock still hasn’t quite moved to where you’re waiting for it to settle. Because back in the living room, you’re still an hour early. Your guests are invited for around six, but you can’t say when they’ll actually show up.

Seems you wrapped up work at a convenient time. Better now than late.

You kiss your teeth in the middle of the room, scanning it for something to do. It’s clean; pretty. Plants set up, table wiped, cushions neatly set on the couch. So you remark, “We were so stressed, I didn’t think we’d be finished already.”

Jungkook, already plummeting onto the far end of the couch, pats the spot next to him, saying, “That’s good. Gives us a bit of time to relax. Anything you wanna do?”

But you don’t sit down yet. You watch your manspreading boyfriend lean back, big inked hand wrapping around the remote control. You look at the open button of his shirt, and the singular hair strands; the side parting. The mole under his lips and the big eyes.

He just doesn’t notice it until the lack of a response continues.

“Huh?” he voices again, finger stopping over the power button before his eyes flit back to you.

You look deep in emotions and distracted; if he could guess, then even… ferociously yearning. He waits with a dancing heart until you admit boldly, “There’s plenty I can think of that I wanna do right now.”

You fold your hands behind your back, chest out a little, legs crossing. You curl your lower lip in, nibbling at it. It affects him, and you know. He sucks in air, a hand on his thigh. Blinking at you, and then poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue.

He leaves out a puff of a tiny laugh, shaking his head a bit. Nearly succumbing to the thought that…

Perhaps there’s an activity you can indulge in before they come, right—

Wrong.

Jungkook, no matter how tempted, throws another glance at the clock, and argues, “Stop thinking of eggplants. They’ll probably be here soon, so your smooth-talking is not allowed to work!”

Your body relaxes, back in its prior position; you pout for a second. “Fine. Then I’ll get dressed before anything else.”

Jungkook sighs in relief — close. Way too close. Tonight might just stretch his jeans if you keep this up; his blood is already abandoning his brain and putting its attention elsewhere.

But you’re well-mannered in the company of guests, right?

Only one way to find out — an hour to go.

Jungkook heaves his body off the couch merely ten minutes later.

And maybe even that was too early.

Maybe he should’ve waited for you to trudge out of the bedroom; or should’ve gotten his clothes and changed somewhere else. Because when he follows your steps to find a new attire for himself, too, you’re sitting at the very edge of the bed, dress already on.

It’s not too posh; rather casual. A green cotton one, pulled up to your hip because you’re dragging transparent tights over your legs. A patch of your thighs is still visible; part of your ass on display where your panties don’t reach. Skin far too empty without his kiss on it.

He doesn’t know how you do it; but within a moment, you elicit a plethora of emotions in him. Burning desire; comfortable warmth; cosy affection. You look so cuddled in in that autumn dress.

Pretty. So gorgeous; you’ll drive him insane.

But the craze doesn’t manifest in hunger this time, but gathers in a single breath, let out in a sigh. Which… makes you recoil. Your hand briefly bolts to your chest, eyes rolling, head shaking. You murmur a quiet, “Babe…” before resuming the task.

Jungkook watches as you lift your body to pull your tights over your ass and the dress back into place, and then reaches out a palm to you; urging yours to settle in it.

Still trapped in a cube of daydreams, he tugs you in until your grace radiates toward him, and then tells you—

“My baby is the prettiest ever. Ever, ever.”

You take his fawning with glowing cheeks, smile so unbelievably worth being alive as you answer, “Your baby isn’t sure if she deserves this so suddenly, but… thankful either way.”

Your voice is an endearing mix of soft and enthusiastic. The combination that breathes life into a room. You’re so…

“God,” he says, squeezing your hand, lifting his other fingers to touch the hem of your dress. Fixing it albeit already perfectly sitting. Then looks up; eyes dropping to your lips. “Maybe you were right. Want to kiss you stupid right now.”

And he would; he wouldn’t hesitate if you didn’t move a palm to his face, pressing a thumb to his plush mouth. Telling him, “Nope, too late. The make up wasn’t easy to do. And dark lipstick is hard to remove.”

Fuck, not when he’s kissing it off…

“I…” Gulp. “Fine, princess.” He removes your hand from his face, towing you back into the living room. “Then, what do we do now? Movie?”

“Nah… It’s so hard to stop watching. Gonna kick them out again if we start now. What about… hm.”

Your eyes dart across the room, and Jungkook takes the moment to suggest, “Or we could have some soju already? Or wine, beer, whatever?”

“Or…”

You wait. Jungkook follows your gaze to the back of the room, surprised when it falls on a peeking canvas behind another big plant pot. Oh — that’s still there. He never took it out, and neither did you. Protecting his privacy, probably.

But perhaps it’s lighting a bulb over your head, because you soon ask, “Or. Wanna give me a house tour?”

“A house tour? Don’t you know every corner already?”

“Yeah but,” you shrug, rounding the couch with him in tow, “I wasn’t always here. You organised the place the way you wanted to when you moved in, so you’d know it better. Like…” You point to the turned painting, “What’s that?”

“That’s… Remember the drawing I had in my notebook? Of Gureum?”

Quite a while ago. You visited him for the first time in Namjoon’s studio back then; recalled it at the exhibit, too. Crazy how sentiments have changed. From a silly play-pretend game to damaged souls to this…

You nod.

“Yeah so,” he continues, “I painted him on a bigger surface.”

Your eyes shoot open, genuine interest in them. “Oh? Can I see?”

“Of course.”

It’s not his best work, honestly; but it is close to his heart. A piece he still wants to improve and feature in his own exhibit once it rolls around. The colouring process will be interesting; it’s barely an outline yet.

But you seem to perceive it with utter fascination and sheer joy. Because the moment Jungkook heaves the canvas up, turning it for you to see, your chin drops. You gasp, mumbling under your breath, “You’re kidding!”

“…Do you like it?”

“It’s so cute! This is…” You lean in, taking in every detail; commenting on it. “He’s a fluffball! Oh my god, the tongue peeking out. He looks so happy.” When you look up into his eyes, Jungkook’s heart does a thing; and his cheeks the other thing. “You painted him from memory?”

“Mmh, maybe a couple details? But I got most of him from a picture my aunt sent me a while ago. He’s been looking much older these days and I wanted to capture him before he ages even more. Made me miss him so much.”

“Awwh, Kook…” You pout. “I really want to meet him one day.”

He looks at you with something knowing and so telling in his gaze; he feels it unveil through his own stare. The knowledge he possesses about something, and that you don’t.

You might notice hints of it, but you don’t question it. Listening when he responds, “You will. He really is a fluffball and remembers me even after months and years of distance.”

“I love him already.” You lift, straightening your back. Watching as Jungkook sets the painting back before you add, “Okay. House tour. What else?”

“Hmm. Let’s see. Come.” He leads you the short way to the cupboard, and you follow in tiny steps, like an explorer running from one treasure to another. So exhilirated. So fucking cute. “Look, these— and don’t laugh, these are precious to me.”

“Laugh?”

“…These,” he opens the cupboard doors, reaching to the far back, behind some decoration; and pulls out a deck of cards. “Are my Yu-Gi-Oh cards. I used to collect them long ago, but I’m never throwing them away. Also—”

Your lips are parted, your eyes focused. Eyebrows shooting up gently, delighted when he takes out another small object from the back.

“My Jiraiya figure that I got for my tenth birthday.”

“Holy shit… I really never bothered looking in hidden corners.” Yeah… but now that you are, you’re making this place your own, too. No, it already is yours, the way he is. He swoons at the thought. “This is so cool. Why would I laugh?!”

“Ah… Were you a Naruto fan?”

You tilt your head. “A little. More into Detective Conan, though.”

Jungkook wonders… How foolish might his smile be looking right now?

“You… keep surprising me, angel,” he says — and you seem to like the praise.

Because you light up, forefinger touching his chest as you reiterate, “See? The house tour wasn’t a bad idea at all! Look at us tracking back the path of our souls, too.”

Jungkook can’t help but chuckle. You’re a breath of fresh air to be around; so incredibly tender when you’re yourself. After all those weeks, you’re finally back to who he used to know. Not as sad anymore.

Never sick of the hand-holding, he grips your palm again, voice hushed when he orders, “Follow me, quick!” The mysterious journey leads you to the closet next; back to the quiet bedroom as he playfully shushes you. “I haven’t worn them in a long time, so you won’t know, but… Look, because the secret's out.”

You crane your neck to see what he’s referring to. And when you do, you coo and laugh straight away. Endlessly enraptured when he claims, “Wahh. They were my super-favourites.”

Iron Man socks. Obviously worn a hundred times; so, so him.

His bunny teeth flash in all their glory when he smiles, dimples out and corners of his eyes crinkly. He feels you hold his hand tighter, and you pick the most supportive tone when you say, “You need to start wearing them again! It’s so sweet when you’re geeky.”

“Maybe you’re right.” He stuffs them back, though not to the very bottom anymore; places them on top for easy access. And then, he continues, “Okay. One more thing for the glorious house tour, and we’re done. It’s another important sight, actually.”

“Ah. Oh?”

Barely a couple seconds later, you’re back to where the trip started. Following suit when he kneels near the table; swift beam spreading over your face when he clears his throat and narrates, “This… Is where I painted on you. Not on another medium, but I painted on you. Remember?”

You must. He rarely abandons paper and his usual colours like that; but you were the most marvellous masterpiece he ever covered. The most outstanding canvas he’s ever drawn on…

“I do.”

Your gaze falls sideways; are you remembering the same heart on your waist that he does? And how he touched it; smeared it under the shower water. How your back pressed into his chest, unknown what feelings you truly harboured, but never failing to showcase his own care to you.

The kisses on your shoulder. The whispers in your ears. The plea for you to stay.

“Of course I do. It was so calming,” you add, “and so beautiful.” You touch the soft carpet, plucking at its tiny fibres. “You consider it a sight at Jeon manor?”

He snickers at your choice of words, but then inhales, and very sternly says, “Yeah. We also had sex here, so it’s forever tainted. I remember it felt… like… we should do it ag—”

“Now it’s you saying these things!” You move a fist to his bicep, pushing against it lightly. “Be serious. Be romantic! It’s not the time to make me want you.”

“Oof, hey… For the record, I was being romantic! And also, I only want you more when you’re being sweet,” he rubs the spot you grazed; he barely felt it, “but seriously. I still remember everything I felt for you. And how crazy you drove me… and how vulnerable you were.”

You’re still stroking the fur of the carpet as you look into his eyes; and he sees a molten puddle in yours. Only one side of your lips lifts, but the softness in your voice is genuine, “I think I still am. Just a lot safer than before.”

“…Good. Me too.”

And that’s all.

That’s all his mind comes up with, because all the words and infatuation are locked in his heart, moving to his fingertips when he inches closer. He raises them to your chin. Knees near yours and close the yawning distance until your lips are a whisker away.

Funny — how his strong chest holds a feeble heart. Bursting and aching, full and yearning.

If he could, he’d stay here with you forever, just like that.

But. The two of you have a party to host.

And the suddenly ringing phone reminds you of it. Makes you flinch until your noses and foreheads touch, and you laugh, rubbing them as you tap the couch for the device. The two of you lean against the sofa, cosy on the carpet as you pick up.

He hears Eun’s voice announce through the phone, “We’re all here. Just a warning, because you better not be naked.”

You shoot a glance toward Jungkook. He snorts, and you start, “Why would we…”

“‘Cause we’re early for once. Taehyung didn’t need as much time with his hair today. So be prepared.”

Jungkook nods in confirmation. Taehyung usually needs to be told an earlier time when invited to an event or get-together.

There are sounds in the background, and he readies himself to register another voice. But not a second later, the doorbell chimes. Guess the two of you will have to wait with the bare devotion.

Because for now, it’s time to indulge the gang. Let them stream in with vibrant greetings, wrapped gifts, endless booze and sweets as irresistible as you.

Jimin is the only guest coming in a little later, rushing straight from his shift. And Jungkook recognises quickly that he’s not Jimin’s first pick for conversation after a timid handshake and parting of ways.

There’s no enmity between them; Jungkook reckons it’s more the awkwardness from the Blue Night still lingering between Jimin and him. Maybe even some leftover guilt about how he used to perceive the younger man.

At least, it’s strange when he, eventually, does take a seat on the couch, separated from Jungkook only by a healing Yoongi. You’re busy talking to Eun, and Taehyung has escaped to the bathroom. Yoongi maintains a healthy atmosphere with casual talks and soft jokes.

But even if somewhat reluctantly, it seems that Jimin is at least trying when he leans back on the couch, enabling a better view to Jungkook as he asks, “Did you paint that one?”

Jungkook follows the finger pointing at the wall next to the window; nothing too out of the ordinary. Just colourful flowers. It’s okay. Better this than nothing to warm up to each other.

Turning on the couch, Jungkook waves a hand in denial as he explains, “Ah, no, no. She bought it because she thought it’s cute.”

“But you could paint that, too,” Yoongi argues, followed by Jungkook’s shy, “I guess.”

“Ohh, okay, okay. Well, since we’re talking about it. Even if you didn’t paint it,” Jimin says, “been wanting to tell you that I loved your exhibit stuff. Uhm, Eun showed me pictures. Hope that’s okay.”

That’s surprising. Jungkook considers himself gifted in this sense, but— having someone actually boast about his work for him makes him feel… accomplished? Appreciated.

No wonder you hold your friends in such high regard.

“Yeah! Of course. Thank you, Jimin.”

“It’s a pretty place, by the way.”

Yoongi wiggles a finger back and forth with an agreeing nod, snacking away, a quiet listener for the time being. There’s something amusing about it; makes Jungkook smile as he tells Jimin, “Thanks. And I’m glad you could come. Can imagine work’s a lot, so…”

“Yeah. No worries. Everything for our girl.”

Jungkook hums as the chat dies and the awkwardness returns. And then, he remembers—

Speaking of — where are you again? Still in the kitchen? Seems so. Or at least, moving away from it bit by bit.

Immersed in a conversation, holding the frame of the living room door, at the threshold to the anteroom. You’re discussing something with Eun, your expression focused. He can’t really make out your words because of those exchanged between Jimin and Yoongi, but…

A moment later, you do look at him. And then away again immediately — as if he caught you. A motion of your hand waves whatever cryptic topic off; and intrigued, Jungkook comes to a stand.

In vain — because Taehyung returns the same moment, babbling about whatever Yoongi just said. And you use the opportunity to march into the room, asking Jungkook to help you set the table for dinner.

To his chagrin, most of them offer to help momentarily. Taehyung swarms around you, insisting on plating, making it impossible for Jungkook to find a moment to ask what your conversation was about. And eventually, he gives up — if it’s important, you’ll tell him.

So for now, he relishes the evening your friends grant the two of you. They compliment the food, narrate short and long stories, watching Jungkook and you unwrap the gifts — board games from Jimin, cutting boards and wine from Yoongi, a stylish, modern thermostat from Taehyung and Eun.

The ecstasy overflows, the screeches probably making your neighbours think of you unhinged. Wine spills on the table; curses exchange; laughing turns into crying.

If anything other than this life is considered good, then Jungkook doesn’t crave that goodness. The unbridled chuckles, and your never-dropping smile are beyond everything twinkling and gorgeous already.

And he’s happy, too. Elated when you cover your mouth when you laugh; and overjoyed when you stand at the window after dinner, leaning forward. Breathing in the autumn air.

Jungkook follows once things wind down and the guests agree upon an appropriate volume. He mimics your stance, lower arms on the windowsill and hands hanging relaxed.

His fingers graze the withering flowers in the window box. They’re slowly dying by the hands of the approaching cold, and the rain keeps overwatering them. Yet… they still let it hurt them, holding on for as long as possible.

So in love with the shower.

It’s almost a bit tragic.

Jungkook refocuses, turning to you and asks, “What are you doing?”

Your head moves to the side, and you kill the remaining distance between you. Step close until you’re nearly nudging his elbow.

“Just,” you nod into a haphazard direction; into the outside world, “looking at the rain. Got a bit stifling in there.”

“Yeah.” Jungkook throws a glance over his shoulder. “Also, I think they’re getting drunk.”

“Mhmmm. Except Jimin. Poor him is looking at the alcohol so longingly. Did you notice that he didn’t drink?”

“Someone has to drive them home, and Yoongi with his healing injury is out. I offered, but Jimin insisted on taking care of them and not, as he said, bothering us. Super thoughtful, really.”

You smile, nodding along before you silence. He doesn’t know what you’re thinking of; or what you’re seeing. Maybe you’re truly only revelling in the rain; contrasting it with the sunshine you radiate.

Maybe he should look for a rainbow somewhere.

In the midst of the tranquil evening, your gape strays from the drizzle with a blink. It descends to his twirling thumbs, and then moves along the length of his arm. Jungkook notices your attention from the side, but only turns to look at you when he realises what you’ve fixated on.

You gesture towards the hues and outlines on his skin, delicately touching the writhing snake as you say, “Want a tour for them, too, if you’d ever allow. I imagine it could be fun.”

“Tattoo tracing?” His lips move into an endeared smile; you look so fascinated. Like you’re seeing them for the first time. “I’d be down. I could even…” His fingers journey to yours, gently leading them to the flowers. “I can even give you a sneak peek.”

“Really?”

“Sure. Look.” He guides your touch over the dazzling orange of his tiger lily. “This is me. Tiger lilies beg for love. I’ve always sought love, too.”

Your eyes change. He knows you see it, too — the urge to never be abandoned again, all the time.

He can nearly see your heart ache. And feels his own thump a thousand miles a second. A fraction of it breaks off and jumps into your chest, making it yours; it does it all the damn time until you hold the entirety of it in the palm of your hands.

Unhurried, he steers your finger further, stopping at the blue tint; clearly hears you draw a breath when he tells you, “And this… This is my girlfriend. She’s even prettier in real life… that’s right.”

For a bit, you’re speechless. Jungkook keeps admiring you in the forget-me-nots for another second, and when you don’t speak on, he meets your eyes. You’re shaking your head, and then — slowly wrapping an arm around his, moving close, head on his shoulder.

From this angle, your cheeks are demanding to be squeezed; eyelashes kiss them softly, your lips tempting curves when you laugh. Jungkook doesn’t get enough of you… and you don’t want to make it easier for him either.

Because, “Shit,” you say, “you were right about pining more when someone’s being romantic. ‘Cause you’re making me want you so bad, in every way. Are you… still up for kissing me stupid?”

“Ahh… babe.”

“I just… You excite me, too, you know?”

“Don’t say these things while they’re here, baby,” he warns, although as tenderly as anyhow possible, “you’ll give me a heart attack, I mean it.”

“Now you know how I feel all the time!” you tease, fingers flicking raindrops into his face out of nowhere.

Jungkook recoils and squirms, taken aback, but it takes him a mere second to play along. He gathers rain in his palms, threatening to toss it into your face; bickering chaos at the open living room window until your damp hands rejoin and delicate digits interlace.

And as he looks at the sad flowers again, the reality of the moment makes him think. How the two of you used to resemble the blossoms in your window box, once enduring the incessant melancholy, too.

Much like the flowers towards the downpour, Jungkook and you reached for each other while being watered by gloom — but unlike the flowers, you’re still sprouting and thriving into something vivid and fragrant. Not beaten by the agonising shower.

The rain hurt me, but I wanted to keep fighting. Because I hoped. Because I adored.

And in the end, him and you aren’t tragic like them. You will never wither — only bloom.

An hour later, the apartment is empty.

You opened all the windows to eliminate the suffocating air; and the hot water running in the sink soothes your cold skin. What a relief to watch the clinking dishes lessen; you sigh at the small amount still left, and Jungkook catches it immediately.

“See?” he teases, loading the dishwasher. Even that seems like a task after such a day; tidying up the living room was more than enough. “Good that we did most of it during and after cooking. It’s so much even now.”

Eyes heavy, you admit, “I should learn to listen to you more.”

He clicks his tongue, skipping a response, and then, out of the blue, says, “Angel… I could get used to this.”

“To me listening to you more?”

“Yes. But no. To you being here.”

You glow up, even though you’re still facing the sink, smile a little hidden, “You need to. Because I’ll be annoying you all the time.”

“Oh, I believe you.”

You hit him with a spoon, wetting the spot a bit before handing the cutlery to him. Delivering a head tilt, he smirks. Amused before he remembers something and asks, “Hey. What were you and Eun talking about earlier?”

“Hm? When?”

“Before dinner. It looked serious.”

You halt mid-movement. Did he catch something? Maybe. But you only insist, “Nothing special. About her graduation… you know, since it’s pretty soon.”

Huh. Doesn’t seem to quite cut it.

“Mmmh. Anything else?”

You feign a thoughtful moment, as if you’ve wiped your memory clean off whatever she said to you. Then, you tell him, “Yeah. I told her how you played around with the recipe and came up with the best dinner ever. And how hot you looked doing it.”

“…You said the last bit, too?”

“No.” Jungkook blows a raspberry before comically pressing his lips into a line, eyebrows furrowing. “Don’t look at me like that, it’s not my fault. I mean, do you know how attractive is it to be among people and know that this one person is still only looking at you?”

Oh, all too well…

“I would definitely know,” he chuckles. “Shit. You’ve been testing me tonight, you know?”

“…How?”

“All those compliments and ambiguous statements.” You shrug your shoulders in apparent innocence, muttering a small, ”It’s true" before he digs, “Anyway, don’t distract me. Anything else she said?”

Perhaps you’re done playing games. And perhaps you should’ve kept doing just that; because your next answer is a much greater tease.

“…I’ll tell you about it soon enough.”

Jungkook squints, organising a plate into a free spot, playfully disgruntled, “Unfair.”

“Hang in there.”

“Alright. You’re lucky I trust you.”

Your grin is gaping wide, and he attempts his best to ignore it. But when you add an evil snicker to it, regarding him with pure mirth in your eyes, he folds, “What?”

“Nothing. You’re just so cute. You’ll keep acting like you’re digging, but still always know when to respect my decisions. Maybe the bar is low? But I find trust ridiculously attractive.” You throw a longing smile at him, bringing a damp fingertip to his cheek to poke. “And to top it off… You’re so pretty, too, and I’m just… enamoured from all sides and—”

You wait and he uses the moment to wipe his cheek on his shirt. But when you don’t speak on, he spurs you on, “…And?”

“And I want you so bad.”

The plate waiting to be set into the dishwasher drops on the counter. Jungkook stares up, regarding the ceiling with a seemingly agitated look. You don’t know what’s truly whirling in him, so you warily ponder, “…What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Jungkook turns the water off, taking the cups from your hands and placing them in the sink. He shakes his palms off the liquid, and then whispers, “Okay. Later.”

The hold around your wrist is firm, and the tug firmer. Determined, he leads you out of the kitchen, slapping a hand over the light switch; your eyes are wide when you ask, “Wait, we’re not do—”

His answer is predictable; yet, you didn’t foresee it. Because—

“Bedroom. Right now.”

THE MORNING OF THE CONFESSION

Unlike you, Jungkook has considered himself a night owl ever since he entered the bustling world of college. Settling in the city was a stirring experience, and the thrill of it, along with a girlfriend, exams and newfound friends, kept him up until the sun rose again.

He enjoyed what he did, too. Loved school, so he didn’t mind the fatigued eyes during lectures. Truly one of the handful of joys that helped rid his head of the brain fog he bestowed upon himself after each long, sleepless night.

And he was an avid participant in classes despite his sheepish persona — they shook him awake, the late afternoon workouts obliterating the rest of the exhaustion. Maybe that’s why he was so reluctant to flake out for the night, too; still energised.

But while Jungkook carried the spirit of a straight-out-of-the-high-school-freshman who disliked falling asleep early, he despised waking up at the break of day just as much.

Would groan, blinking into the sun, with no one to blame for his agitation but him. No matter how deep his fascination for his studies and how quick the fading of his initial irritation — the first few minutes of every day were pure agony.

Jungkook is still a night owl. Still wants the nights to stretch, albeit for other reasons now. But his attitude towards mornings has changed.

There’s a shift in his preferences now; you moved his universe by an inch, altered it so effortlessly. Suddenly, he doesn’t regret rising with the sun next to him. He doesn’t curse the groggy feeling anymore.

There’s a silky touch he seeks every single morning that his eyes open to, lips he follows with his own blindly. You’re a permanent presence now, air and fire to his lungs, and he feels the freshness, feels the burn whenever your fingers brush his shoulders upon waking up.

He won’t need to check in at work for a few hours still; yet, sleeping in would mean losing the minutes that you’re still here before walking out the door until the evening.

He’ll sacrifice a slumber for this. Voluntarily.

And it’s crazy how none of this requires any sort of effort or pleading from your side. How all you need to do is to breathe and talk and smile and stay.

Those extra moments, no matter how fleeting, grant him a little more time on Earth with you, and he grasps it greedily. Even when you spend it teasing the hell out of him. Or, even when you wake up with scorching cheeks and endearing, high pitched complaints.

Like today.

“I still can’t believe yesterday,” you say.

“It’s okay.”

“I embarrassed myself so hard. Thinking about it, can I really show my face at the wedding? I’ll probably make things worse.”

Jungkook keeps glancing at the back of your head, the loose bun shaking with your movement. Smoothly, his fingers trace up and down your back; a gesture he started randomly and continued the moment you mumbled, “I like it… continue?”

Sat between his legs, you’ve been swaying for a while, both uneasy and amped about the approaching event. And to Jungkook, it’s as sweet as it is frustrating to see your brain fuming like that.

“Come here, baby,” he demands, content when you reverse into him. He wraps his arms around your chest, pulling you to his body, and presses a pillowy kiss to your temple. “You’re overthinking again. I promise you, we’ll make sure you have the most fun.”

“I embarrassed myself so hard,” you repeat, and Jungkook kisses his teeth.

“You’re a clown, I’ll admit,” you whine his name, and he laughs, “but I’m telling you. I know my mom and that was her I-like-you voice. Which I didn’t doubt for a second, by the way. Like, she really seems happy with how my life has turned out, and with whom. As am I. Understand?”

One more kiss to your scalp. He swings you from side to side, ignoring the ticking of the clock. In a few, you’ll be leaving the apartment, and Jungkook will need to kill the hours until he joins Namjoon at work.

He shouldn’t be missing you already; but he still holds you tighter. Tighter until you let out a little groan, a hand on his arm. He can’t read your thoughts or decipher whether his promise helped; because you don’t answer yet.

Only wait for a few seconds, allowing him to wallow in your warmth until you call, “…Jungkook.”

“Mhh?”

“Talking about life and stuff… did you always imagine yours to be like this? Just curious.”

“Like this?” he ponders, mentally intertwining every current branch of his life into one healthily growing tree. He’s liking it. “Well… I graduated. An exhibition ahead that’ll hopefully bring me a step closer to my own studio and profession.”

You hum in pride, tapping his arm as an affectionate reward. He continues, “I do what I love, have some great friends… and I get to spend my days with my favourite person? Doesn’t sound too bad to me.”

You crane your neck to look at him; your lips are so close to his, tilted into a smile that’s so unbelievably you. “You called me that last night, too.”

“Huh? Oh, that’s right. And… I mean it. Like. Now that you’re here, it’s even clearer somehow?”

“…How so?”

“Mmh… whenever I used to get home, I’d think of what to eat and of showering and going to sleep. And when I come home now, the first thing I think of is you. What we’d cook tonight. Or what we might watch or talk about. You’re…”

He feels your chest rise under his limbs; a sigh of fondness as he knows it best.

“You’re the one I want to spend all my time with.” He pauses when you look at your blanket-covered lap, hiding your twinkling eyes. “So it’s clear.”

“You always sound so hopelessly…”

You halt mid-sentence, the touch against your arm tensing — much like his own heart, jumping to the next beat with a heavy thud. You shake your head; Jungkook doesn’t get to dwell in further thoughts… still doesn’t have the words for them yet.

Or doesn’t want to admit them yet.

If he thought about them long enough and arrived at a conclusion, would you think he’s rushing your relationship? Would it scare you?

Better not find out yet.

So he lets you talk and listens, “Anyway. So, is there anything, like… more? That you want to achieve someday? Or that you think of sometimes before you go, that’s still left for me to do.”

How fitting.

Pretending to be sinking into thoughts, Jungkook hums, letting his chest vibrate against your back, and then answers truthfully, “Yeah? Maybe a couple things. We’ll see them with time when I gather the courage to tackle them.”

“Like what?”

“Hmm… am I allowed to say that already?” More simulations, teasing you with a fake distant gaze and a hissing inhale of air. “I’m not sure. You’ll know.”

“Hey! That makes me nervous.”

“No need.” You interrupt his speech with another sound of disapproval, pulling a dorky, infectious chortle out of him; his nose scrunches up. “I’m kidding. I’m talking about all the goals I have for my career. I don’t want to stop, no matter what. Keep going and keep striving for more.”

You nod; someone as hard-working as you would understand. In a sense, you’re a role model to him, too — a sentiment that you, as you have often emphasised, reciprocate.

Yet, you advise, “Just don’t overwork. Think of Icarus! We can’t always get more than more, you know? There’s happiness in satisfaction with what we have, too. But either way…” You angle your legs, pulling them close; cuddling into him more. “I’ve got your back.”

And perhaps that’s one of the gazillion traits he cherishes so much about you.

Your position at work is reputable and treasured, and you could easily push him to work harder, too. Could want him to match your career success, because it’s more or less guaranteed for you.

But you don’t. You stand by his side, prioritising his happiness and mental strength, albeit unaware of how his future might turn out. When you say you’ve got his back, he believes you.

“I know,” he says, lips in your hair, breathing you in. “Yeah… I know.”

“Hmmm… okay,” you move on, “what about me? Do you have any expectations? Certain standards and rules? I just,” you reach forward, tugging the blanket over your chest and his arm, “I feel like that’s something one should talk about. Tell me if it’s too much, though.”

“No, you’re right. But honestly? Is it… is it weird to say that you’ve kinda become a standard?”

“…I— What do you mean?”

“I just mean that… I’m never going to tell you that I expect you to be loyal and kind because it’s the bare minimum, right? Who doesn’t want all that? I know you are, so I don’t need to say it. So I don’t have any other expectations from you; these things are already the foundation of our relationship. Just. Mmh, how do I say it?”

He thinks for a moment, but you’re nodding, as if you’ve already understood. But his thoughts don’t end here; they’re just difficult to word. In his mind, they’re clear, but upon having to express them, he doesn’t quite understand the concept of language anymore.

Curses its limitations.

But then, as emotions gingerly gather to a coherent sentence at last, he tries to explain:

“Rather than adhering to any rules or standards I could have, I feel like you’re building them for me. You make me have a type, you know?” He feels you dissolve in his arms as he taps between your clavicles. “And that’s you. I don’t want anyone if I can’t have you.”

Did he go off track? Possibly. But you don’t seem to mind.

Because your voice is painfully sweet and miniscule when you speak, on the brink of losing the fight against the tremble, “But you have me. Pinky promise that you do, for a long, long time.”

Yeah… yeah, he does. And he’d be damned if he let this go.

Because if he ever did — if he ever so foolishly lost you again after combating these cruel storms, you’d still remain his standard. He’d look for you in each face passing, and in every laugh sounding.

The blueprint. And an everlasting memory.

Does it make sense? He doesn’t know.

And it doesn’t matter anyway. You’re right here.

“I’ll take your pinky promises,” he says, overjoyed as he crosses his legs over your shins, peppering more kisses onto your cheeks, the corner of your eyes, on your ear. He speaks in between your sighs and quiet laughs, “What about you? What do you want?”

“I… I don’t think I’ve ever had any expectations either, but. The wedding and—” You hesitate, as if considering dropping whatever you were going to list; and then you start anew, “The wedding made me think, and I— I just want to have so much fun with you.”

“Yeah? Tell me about it.”

“I want all the ordinary things we do to feel special because it’s us doing them. And I don’t ever want us to regret anything, so… I want us to be brave.”

“Brave? Well, you’re already the strongest and bravest person I know.”

“Braver. I want to live without restraints. And I don’t want to overthink anymore.”

Hmm…

Jungkook has seen your jumbled up thoughts before. The pain you cause to your mind sometimes, and the zoned out eyes painting pictures of what you fear the most.

He knows that feeling. Has battled one too many beasts to lessen the ache; even if it’s not always possible. Even if he seeks reassurances sometimes, too. And maybe that’s the prominent and sole reason why he never dismisses your disquiet.

Why push you away if you’re already at an impasse? Why not lead you out of the maze?

“Take it easy, okay?” he soothes, letting his grip around you fall bit by bit to search for your fingers instead. “Restraints can’t beat us.”

“Yeah! I’m hopeful.”

“You should be.” Because thinking of all you’ve fought within the span of a couple weeks… “You’re the first person to show me that there’s no reason to be scared, you know?”

“Then…” You sit up, curling your fingers around his hand, lifting it mid-air in sudden eagerness. “Just imagine how life could go, right? We could go to the ocean. Oh.” You gasp, sucking in air. “Oh my god! The Great Barrier Reef!”

“Ohhh, that’s actually a solid bucket list item. And then, bungee jumping?”

You nod zealously; lacking your fingers’ mobility required to list things, you instead knock your intertwined hands against your thigh each time to come up with something new. Like now, “Cliffs. And northern lights, too. I’ve always wanted to see them.”

Reflexively, you look up.

Stare at the glued-on stars from last night, and the now missing projection you dozed off to. An effective visual lullaby; you didn’t even stir when Jungkook turned it off, tucking you in properly. In your blanket; in him.

“Hell yes,” Jungkook confirms.

“But the first stop’s your hometown… and the wedding. I want to meet your family and be super awkward about it.”

Jungkook laughs, forehead falling forward against your head. He shakes it for a second, and then recalls, “Ah… so chickens and family awkwardness. What else?”

He didn’t expect this to work out before he asked you. Considering you’ve barely started at Novaura, he anticipated gentle rejection. But now that it’s become a certain event in the incredibly near future, his heart pounds every time you mention it.

Because…

You in a dress. You in his house. You, dominating over every single heart that’s dear to him.

And it seems you’ve already thoroughly thought about this, because your answer shoots out of you like a bullet, “Wanna dance with you. And kiss you under the lights.”

“Angel… you’re over the moon about this, aren’t you?”

“…Too obvious?”

You allow a fleeting glance back to him before your eyes fall down to his bare arm, ending in a hand clinging to yours; covered in ink, much like the rest of his right limb. He knows you’re staring at the flowers without asking.

And as if knowing, reading your soul, he doesn’t find himself surprised when you suggest, “And then… one day… What do you think? Should I get a tattoo someday, too?”

“Totally, if that’s what you want. What would you wanna get?”

“Flowers to match? I don’t know. Maybe you can draw on me. Here,” you lead his hand to your thigh, sticking there for a while until you move up to your hip. “Or here.”

He wonders how focused your thoughts are right now. Because if they are, and you’re not fixating on the changes of his skin, you probably won’t register the countless goosebumps under his tattoos.

A giddy sensation spreads throughout his body, collecting in his chest and tummy. Memories of a nearly bare body, painted in his dozen colours returning. And then, pictures of the same hues blurring, smudging.

He breathes an exhale, insane at the thought of kissing those lines. Of lips trailing up your skin, stopping at your hip, dying a pleasant death.

Fuck.

“I… I would. I’ll paint you any day.”

His words come out more airy than intended, fingers itching to pinch your chin, to move your face to his. To slide down the mattress, to kiss your lips swollen, making out with you until the sun sets…

But the world is cruel and too real; the clock still ticks until he realises that freezing in place isn’t an option right now. So he says, “As much as I hate to say this… You should get ready for work.”

You groan; there’s something sweet about your unwillingness to go. Relatable. And it sticks until the exhaustion washes away with each second. Small breakfast in, clothes on, newfound work spirit restored.

Must be a good day approaching.

And you’ve been enjoying the recent ones, he assumes. Despite being so good at what you do, there’s a clear difference in how you tackle a day at Charmante versus at Novaura.

And you confirm it when he accompanies you to the entrance, bidding you goodbye until you meet again later, “What I love most about Novaura is that they don’t feel the need to communicate everything with Mom. They’re their own independent world and trust themselves.”

“Right… You as someone equally independent will fit right in, so they’re lucky to have you there. Makes me wonder, though.” Jungkook pauses, watching you grab your jacket from the wall hook, “Are your Charmante people okay with you being at Novaura so much?”

A COUPLE DAYS LATER

“…I really don’t know if I can do this.”

Well, shit. Wasn’t he ready to strive for more, run endlessly until his feet tired? Where is the dread suddenly emerging from?

Jungkook has barely set his sketchbook down when lightning bolts head for him.

Countering his concern with kissing eyebrows, Namjoon’s full lips purse, dimples gone as he wonders, “What are you even talking about?” — Much at the same time as you utter a threatening, “Shut up,” pastry lifted, ready to throw at him.

Jungkook shies away from the table, ready to dodge your attack; returning when you place the crumbly croissant back on your plate. He presses his lips together before smacking and kissing them, finger rolling the pen over his sketches, but eyes fixated on Namjoon’s notebook.

“I’m serious. There’s so much to do until November, and I… how do I get so much done?”

“But,” Namjoon knocks against the random drawing open on the table, “you already have so much to show. And you can revamp stuff from college, too. Besides, it’s okay to try your best and be scared at the same time, Jungkook! That’s part of a growing artist’s job.”

“But, are you sure I’m a growing artist?!”

Namjoon mutters something under a breath, and you add something unintelligible to the reassuring mix. Jungkook’s worried gaze remains on the rough lines of pencil on paper, teeth repeatedly nibbling his lower lip. Baring his mole.

He closes the sketchbook, staring at the golden, imprinted letters on a dark black background. He’s filled a quarter of it already; the very piece you gifted him for his birthday almost a month ago.

In some way, opening to a blank page serves as inspiration alone. You furnished him with something so simple yet gorgeous; thoughtful engraving to use as a reminder to hold onto his efforts.

But…

Amidst the lasting zeal, he’s been racking his brain. Because. What if he immerses himself in this, spending hours tainting his fingertips in different tints — only to steer towards failure?

What if it doesn’t work out? And he ends up not amounting to much, other than trying his luck online and living on a bare minimum of a salary? Would he start tutoring young, aspiring artists?

And you…

You’re diving into a stable job, well-paid, well-known. If you end up carrying both of you on your shoulders… would you think of him as a washout? Grow frustrated and dissatisfied?

You’ve been repeatedly declaring your unswerving support, but what if you some day do realise that…

Ugh.

He stuck to this passion with the full knowledge he would never fall out of love with it; but now that he’s working for his dreams, the process seems so scary all of a sudden.

“And I’m at the wedding, too…” he says.

He leans back in his chair, moving his pupils away from the paper and instinctively up to you. More concerns threaten to tumble off the tip of his tongue, but when your eyes suddenly flicker with disappointment, his lips shut again.

You blink, unsure, before you ask, “Do you… not want to go? We could totally stay here if you need the time.”

Oh…

Hadn’t you gushed about the event day in, day out now, he would’ve maybe believed your words. And in some sense, you probably do think of the alternative as okay, as long as he profits from it.

But he sees it in your eyes. And not just in yours — he’s been as enthralled by the idea as you. Which is why…

“No,” he responds, “no. We will go.”

Because the prospect of winding down with you has been keeping him sane. Doting on you under the countryside stars, showing you all you haven’t seen before, body to body dancing with you…

He’s not missing out on that, no matter what.

And god knows you need the break, too… especially after the utter hysteria last Friday…

“Kook, think about it. You need to be absolutely sure,” you argue, genuine worry in your gaze; from his side eye, he sees Namjoon nod in confirmation.

“I am. We’ll go, baby, okay?”

You don’t avert your gaze; your mouth closes a little, but you stay unblinking, waiting for his mind to change. He knows because he sees the thoughts floating at the surface of your eyes.

Like you’re still pondering; of course you are. As someone who’s been working hard for their career, even if just for a few months, you’d know. Who’d understand if not you?

The trance lingers between the two of you, and Jungkook lifts his lips, a vow and certainty in his smile. Moment only broken when Namjoon clears his throat and encourages once more, “Give it a shot, Jungkook… Those high-profile people need to see what you’re capable of! I mean, we’re so lucky to have them coming to our exhibits.”

Namjoon gestures randomly, across the small restaurant as he says, “Say what you will about this city, but we lure in quite a few esteemed artists for sure.”

“Who says something about this city?” you ask.

“I do,” Namjoon’s voice is soothing. One thing Jungkook has learned about him is that his flowery mind never rests. Lyrical; not always easy to understand. “I love and hate it. Leaving it, living it.”

He pauses, sipping on his diet coke before smacking the taste away and ordering, “Ask me anytime if you need any help, alright? And be confident.”

“And… what if it does work?”

Your gentle laugh sounds from the opposite side of the table, the straw of your milkshake on your tongue. The rhythmic melody calms something deep in him; perhaps more because he understands your reaction.

You’re just as cute worrying about things that he knows you’d ace.

“Well,” Namjoon starts, aware that Jungkook knows; still annihilating his unease, “the guy is ready to buy your art. If it goes well, he’ll sponsor you. Then, at some point, you’ll be able to afford your own studio and grow as an artist. Ideally.”

“Ah… ah, really…”

”Kookie,” your voice calls; you lean over the round table, shoving the milkshake aside, “don’t worry. And in the most unlikely case that it doesn’t go as planned, know that I’ll cheer you on either way.”

“And me too,” Namjoon raises a hand.

Your finger swings to and fro between Namjoon and you, and your expression changes from empathic and soft to the sweetest, most gut-wrenching smile he’s ever seen. The apples of your cheeks lift, pupils sparkling when you vow, “We’re here for you.”

He…

He could look at you all day, blinking be damned. Could pour out his emotions every second of every minute of every hour, and it’d still not match the endless letter his heart keeps crafting for you.

Disregarding how much of a shipwreck the two of you were last Friday, his chest has still lightened ever since; an epiphany has never been sweeter.

Because…

The words he couldn’t compose into a poem before are now an ardent confession, with rhymes and a melody and infinite beauty. Roaming his mind nonstop, caught in that baby pink bubble.

When had his senses last heightened this much?

Because somehow, he still feels the damp trail of tears he cried that night. And the heart that beat against your cheek. You, frozen against him, processing his words.

If there are ways to make him fall in love harder, you’ve been presenting them all the goddamn time.

And fuck, it’s been hard focusing on anything but you.

Like, on paying. Or on upholding a conversation with Namjoon — assuring him he’d be back in the studio in a bit as he prepares to bid you goodbye for the day.

To his chagrin, the walk to your car isn’t long. It’s parked at a corner, convenient for lunch dates like these; you promised you’d join one with Joon at some point, and you did. Forty-five minutes passed too quickly. Felt like a moment.

“Namjoon is so nice!” you comment, hands in the pockets of your denim jacket.

You keep swaying back and forth, from your heels to your toes and back. Your smile and movements suggest a free spirit, but your risen shoulders and the shallow crease between your eyebrows drench you in something tense.

You’ve been like that since you suggested staying, focusing on his work.

“He’s so wise, too, really,” Jungkook responds, close to you in case your swinging moves leave you tumbling, “like, a cool mix between calm and dorky. I’ve been learning so much from him.”

“Jeon Jungkook and his love for his mentor. You will never stop talking about him.”

Jungkook shrugs, a hand to the nape of his neck, face warming, “He’s cool, what can I say?”

“Yeah.”

And once again… he sees you gulp. Unsure, pupils flickering. You usually don’t struggle maintaining eye contact. So he soon wonders, “Are you okay? I… I hope you didn’t misunderstand what I said earlier. I really do want to go to the wedding.”

“Hm?” you voice, chin lifting a bit before you dispute, “Oh. No, I believe you. If you say it’s okay, then that’s how it is.”

“What then?”

“What do you mean? Do I really seem like something’s up?”

“A little.”

“Uhm…”

You roll up your eyes as you dig into your thoughts. Scouring your brain for whatever might be meandering in the back of your mind. Hm… seems you’re not fully cognisant of the subtle change in your behaviour, either?

So maybe, it means nothing after all.

Then again. It must be something.

Because in hindsight, he didn’t only notice today, but all weekend, too—

Oh…

Maybe you’re just getting used to the new developments; maybe they’re just making you a bit bashful like him. Maybe…

Okay. Deep breath. He just needs to make it sound like a joke, nothing pushy or odd or awkward because—

“Or is it because I told you I love you? Have I scared you off already?”

He watches your breathing stop. As though flexing an x-ray stare, watching your lungs dry up, air stuck in your throat until it escapes through your nose. Honestly… he’s been feeling the same.

“No!” you answer, tone breathy, pulling a hand out of the pocket to sprightly push at his shoulder. He barely budges. “Of course not. All that does is make me want to faint.”

Jungkook chuckles, delighted when your laugh matches his own. He doesn’t always know how to take a compliment either; but you fix your speechlessness with that glow on your face. Fills his own body with fairy dust, too.

His dimples are valleys when your fingers move to his open jacket, grazing the zipper and filling the seconds with quiet tenderness. He doesn’t know what to say to you until you let the silence prolong and then giggle into it once more.

If he could just dive into your brain. But all he has are his own, messy thoughts.

And those tangled thoughts say—

“Angel… Can I kiss you?” Now his lungs are collapsing, too. Worse, so much worse when you look into his eyes, still so surprised at every sliver of affection he signs. “I really want to kiss you right now.”

No… he needs to. Needs to blossom in this breezy weather. But he won’t tell you that.

He’ll just keep looking at you. One second, two seconds — until you’ve raised your hands to the collar of his jacket to move him closer, soon sneaking your touch further up to his neck. A miniscule and wordless hint of approval, and he basks in it avidly.

Twitching palms hesitate for only the subtlest of moments before they’ve dashed up to your cheeks, cupping your face and leaning in and…

Lock.

A picture of a lock. And of its key.

The first thing to flash into his mind.

Because how do his lips fit so perfectly between yours? When you touch him like this, delicate fingers caressing his jaw, how do you feel so much like a feather? And the damn way you sigh into his mouth… how you reciprocate the kiss.

He will never tire of telling you, telling himself, that you match him just like the ocean complements the shore. And it’s baffling. How perfect this feels, and how right it feels.

You do make the ordinary extraordinary.

Like a kiss that is shared a million times a day, between so, so many people. But you’re moving your lips against his. Holding onto him, tilting your head, soaking in his warmth. Going tentatively, then a bit faster, then slow again.

For the merest moments when your mouths part, you gasp, inhaling before pushing your fingers into his hair, at the back of his head. Then back against him, seeking his tongue; such soft sounds meeting his that he swears he could cry.

Cry about the shiver down his spine and the flutter in the pit of his stomach. About the world becoming a backdrop to everything in the middle of the pavement; and about how his thoughts only revolve around your shared breaths and the feeling of your warm cheeks.

Just you.

You, you, you.

Still too far away. Why do you drive him so incredibly mad?

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He loves you. He loves you.

Under a breath and against your soft pillows, he mutters your name; so airy that he barely recognises his voice. His tongue drags over your lower lip, pecking one more time before he establishes an intruding distance between you.

Your foreheads touch for a transient bit, thumb skimming your cheek. When he opens his eyes, yours are still shut, and you’re feeble in his grip. And then, he asks, “What’s wrong?”

You swallow again. Take a breath before admitting, “You’re right. There’s something I want to ask you, and I was so stupidly… nervous about it.”

“Yeah?”

“The whole gang, they… they’ve been planning something. They paid for it and all, but they’re waiting for me to give them an answer, so they know if I need to pay them back or if they should cancel or, or—”

He interrupts your ramble with a soft, “Tell me, babe.”

“Okay,” your eyelids finally open up; your gaze is so hazy when you look at him. “It’s a trip. Four days, three nights, during the wedding week.” He hasn’t said a word when you hurry to add, “But, we can leave earlier. It’s a road trip kinda thing to the mountains and the beach and. They want us there, too.”

”Oh.”

“…Yeah.”

“I… Baby.” He moves back, shaking his head. He was careful not to ruin your hair, well aware you have half a work day ahead of you; but he still brushes a strand back. “Were you and Eun talking about that two weeks ago?”

“Yeah. And Tae also said I should be the one to ask because you’d like that. But then things happened and all the stress and…”

“But… even before that. Why were you so nervous asking me about it for so long?”

“Because,” you answer, one shrug of your shoulders, “I wanted to wait and see how you feel about the exhibition and the workload. And you already have limited time because of the wedding and I didn’t want to take away more of it.”

He can’t help but beam; why does this feel… endearing? Mirrors his own thoughts when he asked you about accompanying him to the wedding.

“We really do have the same brain, don’t we?” he asks.

“You’d think we’d learn.”

You say it lightheartedly, yet gnaw on your lips. He tongues the inside of his cheek, keeping eye contact, and then queries, “There’s something else, right?”

“Ah, just.”

You look unsure, trying to make sense of your thoughts, but your uncertainty makes him uncertain, too. So he exhales before he prods, “What? What what? Is it something bad?”

“No! Just. They’ve been wanting to do this since the summer. They never talked about it to me because you and I were… you know.” You kiss your teeth, and he uses the second to whoosh away the aching memories. “But they never cancelled for us, either.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because they’d say, and I quote, ‘Just wait.’ They knew we couldn’t stay away from each other even before we did.” You laugh. “Eun told me that day in the kitchen.”

Even before you did?

Untrue. He knew he didn’t want to live without you the moment you left his apartment, tear-soaked and heartbroken.

“Okay…” he starts, “and you were worried because?”

“Because you always get so sad when I talk about the summer. Explaining the context of the trip seemed hard to me, and I didn’t want you to feel guilty.”

Oh…

Shit, man.

“You’re… ahhh… my sweet baby.” He wants to hug you to his chest and never let go. But you’re already running out of time, lunch break nearing its end, so he only grips your shoulders. “You know that it gets better after two minutes, no? Because whatever happened, I have you now.”

He flicks your chin as he has been lately; it cheers you up. Makes you smile a bit, conjures the pout away. Adding to the effect when he says, “Don’t worry so much, my love.”

Another inhale. Then, you admit, “I’m sorry. I dragged it out.”

“It’s okay.”

“So… would you come? Do you think you could take some time off work and all? I’d understand if it’s too much.”

“Hmm… Right before the wedding, isn’t it?”

“Mid-october, yes. We could leave earlier!” you reiterate, hellbent on assuring he’s not obligated to do anything. So sweet, how you scratch your head. “They’d drive on. It’s convenient because it’s all in the same week.”

“Mountains and beach, you say.”

“If you don’t like them, we can stay at the hotel and chill together.”

Shit.

His grin widens with each heartbeat; you notice, because despite your suggestions, you sound more lively now.

And yet, it’s funny you’d question all these things like this at all. Don’t you remember damp cheeks and gentle touches?

Just days ago.

How he was still trembling when you left Eun’s complex. How he stopped you before climbing into the car, much like now, mumbling a timid, “Angel…”

And then retracting when his heart combusted. Looking into your eyes, still red, his own mind filled with nervous fear before settling on, “Nothing. Let’s go home.”

Or how you cried in the living room. How you broke down, terrified he might walk away. How his breath quivered, how his head spun, how he felt like he might throw up or faint or scare you off.

The damn sickness in his stomach until he spat the hidden words for the first time. And the pounding of his heart when you responded with a mumbled, “Kook… How.”

And… how his chest constricted at everything that followed after that. Don’t you remember?

In spite of every indication he threw your way — you still worry so much.

Funny you’d be so nervous around someone who wants to see the entire world with your hand in his.

What did you call it again? Wanting to be brave.

So fucking easy with you.

“How about…” he begins, staring into anticipating eyes, hearing a storm of cheers rumble, “going shopping before we leave?”

Your demeanour changes momentarily. The unsure girl, afraid to hurt him, soon finds her way back to her foundation. You light up, a hand over your mouth; your cheeks must be hurting.

You deliver one, short jump and then pull him back in, kissing his lips once before scattering a couple more pecks next to them. He soon finds himself pushing you towards your car, forcing you back to work, but you have a thousand things to babble about.

He’s adoring all the bright stars in your eyes — now he understands how you feel when you see the same universe in his.

It’s crazy. How effort is never required from your side for him to feel that way. How you only need to breathe and talk and smile and stay.

Stay stay stay.

The word sails and wafts through his dazy thoughts like a silent prayer. Begging and begging; pleading to allow him to pour all his love on you, although he doesn’t need to ask. You always let him anyway.

And he guesses he’s using that permission thoroughly. Maybe that’s why keeps craving and burning for more; why he’s been holding you tighter these nights.

His tiger lily pressed against your heart.

*head in hands* they are so crazy for each other, pls 😭 warmth and reassurances and support and bickering literally build the foundation of their relationship and i love them sm :') for some reason the editing process knocked me out, but i still adore this one so so much, and i hope you guys did, too!! 🥺

feedback is always so so appreciated!! you guys are literally such a freaking supportive bunch and have kept this series alive for so long and i love you to death :( here's to the first one this year!! as always, please consider leaving a like, reblog (with or without feedback!), comments and spammm my inbox with everything that's on your mind hehe <3 any kind of msg makes my day!

and nowww!!!!! moving on to cmi: palette and VACAYYYY!!! mwah mwah 🤍

#jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #bts smut #bts fluff #jeongguk smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts x you #bts imagines #jungkook fic #bts angst #jungkook angst #jungkook

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gurugirl · 10 months

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A Good Boy | 1. Surrender

Summary: Harry's got the hots for his young stepmom and she's pretty fond of him too. But they're both trying really hard to be good. Loosely based on this ask.

A/N: This is stepmom!reader x virgin stepson!harry. There is a 7 year age gap and Harry met her at the age of 19. He is 21 in this story.

Word count: 21.4k words

Warning: 18+ only, NSFW, inappropriate relationship between a stepmom & virgin stepson, smut

A Good Boy Masterlist

Her husband, Leonardo, was the kind of man that could only be described as a provider. Not a lover, not a sweet man, not a gentle soul. Just a provider. Her mother asked her why she was marrying the older man, “Y/n he’s 15 years your senior! It’s preposterous! He’s rich but you can find real love…” She’d heard it all. But she was interested in having nice things. Being able to finish her art and history degree and go to the tennis club and shop with her girlfriends.

He also bought her the cutest little red Mercedes and the biggest diamond ring. And his house was- well it wasn’t just a house. It was an estate sat in the Hollywood hills near other celebrities and affluent humans (or robots she sometimes thought). She even had her own bedroom. It was an odd setup for sure, but a setup nonetheless.

Leonardo made it clear. He wasn’t looking for love. He was looking for a pretty thing with a good head on her shoulders that he could fuck when he needed and buy nice things for. Someone to bring with him when he had to show face at events and parties who could hold a somewhat intelligent conversation. She could do that. And he wasn’t a bad-looking man either. He was fit and tall with a deep voice and his deep pockets were just the cherry on top.

Did this make her a gold digger? She supposed that yes, it did. But what of her husband? This was what he wanted too. No one was being tricked. Everything was very simple and clearly defined. Down to the fact that she could sleep with anyone she wanted as long as she was discreet and didn’t give him the details. The same went for Leo.

Though Y/n hadn’t been interested in sleeping with anyone else, she was certain Leo did on his business trips and “boys-only vacations” he often took with his friends.

Y/n wasn’t bothered by the lack of love or the fact that her marriage wasn’t conventional. She was getting everything she wanted and she was happy. Sure a little intimacy was nice but she had close friends and so far, that was all she needed.

. . .

“Leo! Marla is here with the Uber! I’ll see you later!” She shouted toward his study as she made her way out the door. It was Friday night. Girl’s night. Every other Friday she, Marla, Cyndee, and Gina met at Murphy’s Lounge to dance and drink a few too many martinis. It was always fun. Sometimes she flirted with some man who wanted to dance. But never anything more. She could have if she wanted. More. She could have done more but she never felt the need. No one interested her enough to make that sort of leap into partaking in the open aspect of her marriage.

The bar was full, as it usually was at 8 pm on a Friday night. Gina and Cyndee had already secured a table and had cocktails in hand when she and Marla got there.

And just like every time the four of them got together, they acted as if they hadn’t seen one another in ages. Sometimes they could be overly dramatic in their greetings but they genuinely appreciated one another.

“Okay. The first round is on me, but the rest is on Daddy Leo,” Cyndee bubbled out her words in laughter.

Y/n playfully smacked Cyndee’s arm, “Oh so now you’re calling my husband Daddy?!” She rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, I am. He’s a Daddy, Y/n. Like, there’s no way you don’t call him Daddy when-“

Y/n placed her hand over Cyndee’s mouth, “Oh my god you’re too much sometimes! No more talk of Leo! The rest of the drinks are on him and we’ll leave it at that,” she laughed.

That was usually how it went. Leonardo picked up their girl’s night tab and paid for their taxis or Ubers.

“Okay. We’re just gonna get our drinks and we’ll be right back.” Marla swept Y/n off to the bar so they could order their usual drinks. For Y/n it was a nice stiff lemon drop martini.

Marla ordered a whisky sour, with extra orange slices and then rambled on about Ryan, her on-again, off-again boyfriend. They were on again at that moment but she was wearing thin, once again.

“Why do you do it to yourself, Marla? If you want to be done then just be done. You’ve tried and it hasn’t worked. I feel like you could do better anyway. Ryan’s nice but I think you two have run your course.”

“Ughh… I know, Y/n. God do I know. Easier said than done. There’s so much history, and friends in common. And we have a fucking dog together! I just… I don’t know.”

The bartender handed them their drinks and then Y/n gave the guy her credit card, “Please put this card in place of Cyndee Daniels tab. We’ll use this one instead.”

Josh was the bartender that evening. A cute college-aged young man with a bright smile who always remembered her name.

“Of course, Ms. Y/n. Will swap these out. As usual.” He winked.

She leaned over the bar as she took a quick sip of her martini while Josh went to retrieve Cyndee’s card. She looked down the bar at the faces of other patrons and suddenly was met with the clear green eyes of Leo’s son, Harry. Her stepson. She wasn’t sure if he’d seen her and it wasn’t as if Y/n had done anything wrong but she just hadn’t expected to see him there.

She leaned up again, peering around the woman sitting on the stool to her left and her eyes landed on the young man. Freshly shorn dark curls and a soft pink smile crooked up as he spoke animatedly to the guy sitting next to him. And just as she assumed he hadn’t seen her he turned and looked at her squarely, his lips moving as he spoke something to his friend then nodding in acknowledgment at Y/n before pulling himself off the stool he was on and making his way across the bar to her.

“Is that Harry?” Marla spoke as she leaned in.

“Yes, it is.”

Harry was a nice young man. He was polite, sometimes overly polite she thought, and he was charming. Y/n liked Harry. She didn’t know him all that well. He lived on campus at the university so she saw him rarely. But she did recognize that he’d cut his hair. He had long dark curls when she first met him. He looked like a bad boy, covered in tattoos with a permanent smirk on his face. But once she got to talking to him, she realized, he was a big sweetheart really. The long dark hair and tattoos were just a look. A style. Harry was a nice young man.

The truth was, all the girls joked about how attractive Leo and his son were. Both men were quite handsome. Y/n couldn’t deny that. Harry was tall like his father and built nicely. Long legs and a well-muscled chest. A great jawline and crystal green eyes that allured.

“Hi, Y/n. Marla,” Harry spoke as he looked from Y/n to Marla.

And that was another thing about him. He always remembered everyone’s name. He had met Marla maybe twice, yet here he was drinking beers at a bar and remembering the name of Y/n’s best friend whom he barely knew.

“Hi Harry,” Y/n smiled up at him, “Like the hair,” She reached up and whisked a finger into a short curl before bringing her hand back down into her own space.

Harry smiled broadly, a glorious dimple digging into his cheek as he raised an arm and ran his long fingers through his soft dark hair, “Oh! Yeah. Thank you. Got it cut a few weeks ago. Still getting used to it. Um, how are you doing?”

“Good. Girl’s Night, you know,” she shrugged and looked over at Marla who stood next to her, “We’re here every other Friday for some dancing and drinks,” when she turned her gaze back to Harry’s his soft eyes were intently watching her as she spoke. “Um, yeah. How are you? How’s school?”

Harry tipped himself forward to his toes and then lowered back down to his normal height, “Good. S’good. Already looking forward to Spring break,” he chuckled.

“Oh yeah! Me too. I’m not even in school anymore and I’m already making plans,” she chuckled.

Suddenly something dawned on Y/n. Her eyes went wide and then she squinted as she looked at her stepson, “Wait. You’re not 21. You’re too young to be here, Mister.”

Harry snorted a laugh and nodded, “I know. I know. But I’m turning 21 in two weeks. Figured I’d try out my fake ID once in my life. Before it’s too late,” he grinned.

“So you’ve never done this before?”

“Nope. First time. And of course, my stepmom is here when I do. Just my luck.”

Y/n laughed and her smile almost hurt her cheeks it was so wide.

A small jab to her side reminded her that Marla was still standing there, “Oh, sorry. Yeah. We should be heading back. We’re just over there if you want to stop by and say hi to the girls.” She pointed to the table where Cyndee and Gina were already watching the scene.

“Sure. Yeah. Of course. Um, it was really nice to see you, Marla,” Harry smiled gently at her and then looked back down to Y/n, “I’ll come by and say hi before I leave.”

The moment Y/n got to the table Cyndee pulled her arm, “Your stepson. Oof. He’s really attractive. Have you and him ever… you know?” She joked. Of course, Cyndee knew better.

“Oh stop it! Of course not! He’s a 20-year-old kid!” Y/n spoke in exasperation.

“You’re only 27, Y/n. You’re not much older. In fact, you’re closer to his age than you are to Leo’s,” Gina said.

Now Gina was usually the voice of reason so to have her on Cyndee’s side was ludicrous. Of course, she knew Cyndee was teasing but still.

Y/n took her seat and rolled her eyes as she took a healthy gulp of her sweet and tangy martini.

“And his haircut. God, he’s adorable like that. Damn,” Marla spoke next to her.

The music eventually began to grow louder and the martinis were going down far too easily. Especially after dancing and working up a sweat away from her seat. But one thing that didn’t change through the night was that her eyes kept finding Harry’s. It was like she couldn’t stop glancing over at him. But it didn’t help that every time she dared to peek he was looking at her already.

She couldn’t be sure that he was watching her dance but there was something about just the idea that he might be that had her swaying her hips a little more sensuously and using her hands to rub down her body like she was some kind of sexpot. But in truth, her dance moves were definitely subpar. But three martinis will tend to make one feel unnecessarily bold.

Y/n decided on just one more drink. A fourth martini to round out the night, plus she wanted to walk up to the bar near Harry and talk to him a little bit more. Just a friendly little tease about how he was only sitting and not dancing. Even his friend had gotten off the stool and danced with a young woman on the dance floor for a bit.

“You’re not really making the most of this special night, Harry,” she elbowed at his arm gently as she leaned over the bar to wave at Josh.

“What do you mean?” Harry’s eyes were a little red and he was quite obviously a little drunk.

She looked down at his wetted lips and back up to his pretty eyes, “You’re not even dancing. Just sitting here like a lump drinking beer after beer.”

“Ms. Y/n, another lemon drop?” Josh spoke as he put his hands on the bar top in front of her.

“Yes, please, Josh, and close it out too. I think all the girls are done for the night.” She laughed.

She turned back to look at Harry, “So no girls here you want to dance with? Even your buddy got out there a little bit. Where is he by the way?”

Harry turned around and looked over his shoulder for his friend and shrugged, “Maybe shagging in the bathroom. Haven’t seen him in a while now that I think of it. And no. No girls here I want to dance with.”

Y/n pouted and tilted her head as she reached up to touch his hair again, “I’ve seen a bunch of pretty girls around your age here, Harry. Some even checking you out. You should get out there and dance a little. Really fully experience Murphy’s Lounge,” she looked over her shoulder and then leaned in to speak quietly, “It’s your last chance with your fake ID,” she smiled as she tugged his curl the smallest bit.

Harry smirked, “Child abuse!” Craning his neck away from her fingers, he patted at his hair as if the tiny tug had hurt.

She rolled her eyes as Josh returned with the drink and her card, “See you in a couple weeks.” He smiled at her before returning to the other customers.

Harry’s features became serious again, “You know him?”

Y/n sipped her martini and nodded, “Yeah. We’re here often enough. So, yeah.” She shrugged keeping her eyes on her adorable stepson. Okay, maybe it was more like adorably handsome stepson, but still.

“Come. I’m gonna put this away,” she lifted her card upward as she motioned him to follow her, “And you and I are going out there to dance a little. We’ll find you someone cute to groove with a little.”

She expected Harry to protest a bit but he didn’t. He stepped in behind her and followed her to her table with his beer in hand. He stayed close to her as she bent down to slip her credit card into her purse. The security in the room always watched their table so no one took their things or tampered with their drinks (and the nice little tip Y/n, by way of Leo, didn’t hurt either).

“Leave your beer here. We’re gonna need our hands free!” she giggled as she pointed at the table.

“You’re okay to leave your drinks out like this? Thought that was a big no-no.”

Y/n looked in the direction of the man standing a few feet away, “He’s watching over the table. Now come on!”

The floor was packed with warm bodies moving and gyrating. The music was loud and the rhythmic base could be felt underfoot. She’d long lost sight of the girls as she began to sway and raise her arms upward.

Harry stayed close to his stepmom’s side and shuffled around a bit. His body was a bit stiff but he laughed when Y/n grabbed his hands and made him spin, “Loosen up a bit! Come on, Harry!”

Rolling his eyes he grinned and began to dramatically move about, trying to feel the beat and push down how awkward his movements felt.

Y/n kept her hands on his to encourage him to move with her and they both laughed as Harry began to relax into it a bit. His big smile only widened as the song was switched up to something that felt quite naughty and suggestive.

She released his hands because it felt like he was getting the hang of it. Not to mention she was beginning to enjoy the way his big hands fit around hers. And that couldn’t happen.

She turned around and continued swinging her hips and, moving with the rhythm as best she could. Long moments went by and she closed her eyes and allowed herself to get back into the swing of dancing and feeling the freedom and excitement of her night.

A hand pulled at her hip from behind and she opened her eyes and turned to see her stepson towering over her from behind. She hadn’t expected the sudden grip he had on her so she turned in confusion causing his palm to fall away. Harry looked over her shoulder and then dipped down to speak into her ear, “A man came over and was just about to try something with you. Wanted to discourage him a bit. Sorry.”

Y/n followed where he was looking and there was indeed a man there looking at her. And it wouldn’t have been too out of the ordinary for this to happen. She dealt with these things well usually. Sometimes she’d dance a little and flirt a little but that was it. It didn’t bother her. It was all in fun.

She chuckled and pulled at Harry’s shoulder to speak in his ear, “You don’t have to worry about me, Harry. I can take care of myself. I’m a big girl. But thank you.”

Harry licked his lips and turned his face toward her to speak, “I know you’re all grown up. Just didn’t want to see that with my own eyes is all.” His words were spoken close to her ear, his deep baritone vibrating from her neck and over her ear as she turned to look at him, only he didn’t move his face away and their gazes connected for a moment longer than felt innocent.

She swallowed and a small smile plucked upward on her lips, “Okay. Do you want to stay close then? Protect from the predators while I dance?” Her smile widened and she laughed but Harry’s smirk felt like something just the opposite of funny as he looked down over her face and to her neck and then over her lips.

“I’m not going anywhere,” his smirk remained as he shook his head and then in a surprise motion turned her around to face away and put both hands at her hips as they began dancing together.

She could feel his heat from behind her and his fingers held onto her hips possessively but she liked it. Especially when her hips moved to the beat and Harry’s hips moved behind her. He wasn’t pressing himself into her backside but she could feel him moving with her. He was keeping a polite distance. Though, everything that was happening was very inappropriate.

It was inappropriate because she liked it. Because this attractive young man behind her was looking at her in a way she noted was not innocent. Because she’d been obviously flirting with him at the bar. Because Harry was her stepson.

When the beat dropped low and the song slowed to something even more provocative and playful they both slowed and she felt Harry’s thumbs on the bit of skin exposed between the bottom hem of her blouse to just above her skirt’s waistline. His grasp on her skin was burning into her flesh, his fingers gently brushing and then squeezing at her.

“You’re not a bad dancer,” Harry remarked into her ear and she felt his chest press into her back.

And without thinking too deeply about it, or perhaps it was the martinis that left her so uninhibited, she dropped her head back and toward his mouth and felt his lips at her ear, “I’m a terrible dancer. But thank you anyway.” She laughed.

Harry chuckled into her ear, not backing away from how she’d leaned into him but instead pulling at her just enough that his fingers pinched her waist and she could feel him smile as he spoke against her ear, “Nothing about you is terrible, Y/n.”

His deep tone gave her a chill and goosebumps traveled down her neck and over her bare arms. Her good sense had been momentarily suspended as she smiled and dared to move her bottom into his hips.

When she heard his groan in her ear she closed her eyes and placed her hands over his, pressing his hands flat over her waist so she could feel his long fingers under hers, feel his warm palms digging into her skin.

“Better stop. I’m getting a little,” Harry suddenly backed off, his hands releasing her hips and she turned to look up at him as he ran a hand through his hair. He was flushed and his pupils were large, making his soft greens appear dark and heavy as he looked at her with an unmistakable glint of lust. She was sure she looked the same.

“Of course. Yeah. It was fun, though,” she smiled as she began to head back to the table. Harry followed.

They slid into the booth and took their drinks, letting the music of the bar fill in the gaps of their silence.

Y/n realized she was wet. She scolded herself inwardly. Her stepson was off-limits. Hell, to her most men were off limits because she was married (despite her open marriage). But especially Harry. She didn’t know if she should apologize or just let everything that had happened slip away without acknowledgment.

They were both drinking and so that had something to do with her behavior. With his. But mostly hers because she was the stepmom. She should have known better.

“Sorry we didn’t find you a cute girl to dance with,” she offered as she rounded her eyes and grinned, trying to make light of everything and ignore what had just happened between them.

Harry shook his head and looked down at his beer, then shifted his eyes to hers, “I think we did find me a cute girl to dance with,” he licked his lips and huffed a laugh shaking his head again as he lifted his beer.

“I’m done done done! Some guy bought me two shots. On top of the four cocktails I had. I’m fucked. I need to get out of here so I can crash into bed. You okay to leave with me?” Marla was suddenly plopping down at the table as she slurred her speech.

Y/n laughed, glad for the interruption. She wasn’t sure how to respond to Harry’s comment, “Yeah. We can get out of here. Where’s Gina and Cyndee?”

Marla pointed at the edge of the dance floor. Two men flanked them with drinks in hand.

“As you can see, they’re fine.”

Marla, Y/n, and Harry stopped by to say goodbye to Cyndee and Gina before leaving the loud bar. The night air was sobering as she used her Uber app to call for a taxi. Harry stayed with them, like the gentleman he was until their ride showed up.

Marla flung herself into the car as Y/n squeezed Harry’s arm, “Thanks, Harry. I’ll see you… I don’t know when, but this was fun! Yeah? Oh! It’ll probably be for your birthday, right? Party at our house. That’s right,” Y/n was mostly talking to herself. They were throwing him a party. Of course, it was going to be a big bash. Tons of college kids and family and drinking since he was turning 21.

Harry nodded, “Yeah. Weekend after next. Saturday. I think I’ll come over Friday night and stay the whole weekend.”

. . .

Harry had always liked Y/n. She was sweet to him from the start. Right off he could tell she wasn’t like Leonardo’s other girlfriends. He’d gone through a lot of them and when he decided he liked Y/n enough to keep around, Harry was genuinely happy about it. His dad was kind of cold and overly structured at times but he always took care of his family and Harry wouldn’t mind having Y/n around. He was 19 when he met her.

Harry’s mom left Leo when he was just a boy. She remarried years later and Harry hadn’t seen her so happy ever. He chalked it up to his dad’s standoffish behavior. He barely showed Harry, love, even. But It was okay for Harry that way. His mom was warm and raised him well. She showed him more love than he’d ever need in a lifetime. She made up where his dad lacked.

So for that, Harry did feel a bit sad, for Y/n, who had such a bright smile and contagious laugh, to marry such a cold creature as his father. The kind that his mother left. His friends joked that Y/n was a gold-digger and they urged him to try and mess around with her. See how far he could take it. But that was out of the question. Not because his stepmom wasn’t smoking hot, but because she was his stepmom. There was just so much wrong with that.

It did irk him, though, that he found her so pretty. But it wasn’t just that. She was smart too. She was easy to talk to and she could keep up with Harry’s little goofy jokes and she never took herself too seriously. Despite having her lips painted red and wearing high-fashion couture courtesy of Leonardo Styles, she was fun and kind.

Harry also benefited from his dad’s money, though. Just because he opted to live with his mother until college didn’t mean he didn’t have everything he wanted. A nice car, nice clothes, vacations with friends, concerts, sporting events, the newest cellphone. Leo didn’t bat an eye if Harry wanted something. And eventually even gave him a credit card to use for anything he wanted.

Yeah, Leo Styles was fucking wealthy. Dirty wealthy. The kind that people hate to see because it’s so excessive and unnecessary that it’s ugly.

But what could Harry do? His dad was a little cold and filthy rich. He didn’t control how his dad dealt with his money, though plenty of people also lumped Harry in with all that. Assumed he was some spoiled rotten brat who’d grow up like his father.

And that was just the thing, though. His dad wasn’t mean or bad per se. He was just rich because of the Styles’ family fortune. And he rarely showed any emotion. His dad did do nice things for the community and donated to good causes, threw fundraisers, and funded schools for children with special needs and gymnasiums for the local children who didn’t have a place to go and play freely.

And he wanted a wife that was smart and pretty. Someone with a brain who could handle a good conversation with grace. Harry understood the arrangement well. There was no love involved but it was a marriage of convenience for both of them. No harm, no foul. Harry didn’t mind it. Others seemed to have heavier opinions about it, though.

“Damn, Harry. You gotta do something about that. She keeps looking over here at you. While she looks like that? Let’s get your v-card taken care of once and for all.”

“Stop it, Jay. She’s my stepmom.”

“So? You told me yourself she’s just married to your dad for the money-“

“No, that’s not what I said. And it doesn’t matter what kind of thing she and my dad have going on. It’s not gonna happen.”

“God look at her. She’s fucking fine, Harry. She wants you too. I can tell. Look you don’t have to take my advice but this one,” he said as he gestured toward Y/n, “She’s a tiger in bed. I guarantee. Look at her move. Bet she could show you a thing or two.”

Harry shoved Jay and shook his head as he looked away before he was caught staring at his stepmom again.

She was hot. Her skirt was short and her little top kept riding up so he could get the tiniest peek of her waistline each time she raised her arms. Harry didn’t want to let his mind wander to those kinds of places. He’d already recognized how gorgeous she was. Liked her personality and how funny she was. If she were younger and not his stepmom, maybe. Maybe.

“Rebecca’s over there. I’m gonna go dance with her a bit. Sheila is too. You should come out and dance! Meet someone! Get laid!”

Harry sighed and sipped his beer as he leaned away from Jay’s arm, “No thanks.”

He did want to get laid of course. It wasn’t like he couldn’t have found a willing participant. It just hadn’t ever happened. He’d messed around a bit but in all honesty, Harry had a hard time wrapping his mind around a quick fling or something that was only sex. He liked connection and love. Wanted that whole thing with someone before getting to that point in the relationship. He knew it was silly to take it so seriously. And it wasn’t like keeping his virginity was his goal. It was just that he wanted it to be with someone special. Yeah, he was a bit of a sap like that.

But no one would know it really. That Harry was a big sap. A virgin at almost 21. Only his closest friends knew and they were sworn to secrecy. People assumed Harry had had lots of sex. That he was fucking people left and right. Because Harry was a flirt. He was super smooth and confident and charming. The kind of man people would imagine just had tons of sex. Plus he was incredibly attractive.

When Y/n was suddenly stood next to him at the bar, sweat at her hairline and soft lips with a cute smile as she spoke to him closely about how he was just sitting at the stool, not making the most of his first time in a bar with a fake ID, he felt his stomach twist. Maybe it was her scent, or the alcohol coursing through his veins, or the way she kept looking at him while she was dancing. Whatever it was, he knew he’d just moved into dangerous territory in his mind.

But she pulled at his hair and licked her lips and stood close so she could speak in his ear and he was easily convinced to finally get up and go dance with her.

Dancing wasn’t really a big deal to him. He wasn’t shy to dance. He honestly didn’t care all that much what people thought of him. He just didn’t want to get out there and dance while she was dancing like that. While she was looking at him in that way. Because he knew he wouldn’t be able to resist her. Something had slipped out of its normal position for Harry that night. He was thinking of his stepmom in very inappropriate ways and he was powerless to stop the indecent thoughts he had about her body and her lips and her voice. It was so wrong.

When he turned her around and put his hands on her hips he allowed his fingers to wander over her skin to the very spot he’d been watching each time she lifted her arms. But this time he pushed the material up to give the pads of his fingers access. And she didn’t stop him.

Her hair smelled good and when he spoke against her ear she got goosebumps. Fucking goosebumps from his voice in her ear.

But then the unthinkable happened and she pressed herself into his front. And luckily she was just off to the left a bit because had she been to the right another inch or so she’d have felt him. He was thick under his dark jeans and it was because of his stepmom.

Her skin and her lips and her hair and the way she smelled and reacted to him. But he had to stop. He backed away knowing that it was the smart move. Hating that it was the smart move.

He came down the shower drain imagining Y/n on her knees with his cock down her throat, gagging and urging him to go in deeper that night after the bar. He closed his eyes and yanked himself and he orgasmed so embarrassingly fast to the image of her. His stepmom. That was the first time he’d masturbated to Y/n’s image. And it felt dirty. It felt forbidden and disgusting.

But then he did it again the following evening in his bed. He was thankful for having his own room in the frat house. Stroking his cock as his thighs quivered and his head was thrown back into the pillow under him, imagining Y/n riding his cock and showing him what she liked had him gasping as he came all over himself.

He tried to move on and get things back to normal in his brain about her. The way they were before that night at the bar. But he couldn’t stop thinking about her. Part of that was because of how she responded to him, flirted with him. The way she was looking at him and how she danced with him. He knew he didn’t imagine it. She was into it. And now that he knew that… well, the result left Harry tugging one out to his stepmom every night thereafter.

. . .

The party was going to be big. Leonardo told Harry to invite everyone he wanted. And of course, he and Y/n invited their friends too.

There was a DJ, a catering staff with bartenders and lots of presents.

Y/n was helping with the setup. Friday was busy for her, the day before the party. She’d almost forgotten about Harry mentioning he’d be coming on Friday to stay the whole weekend. Almost.

In fact, she hadn’t forgotten at all. She tried pushing that memory down but it was still there, underneath everything. Her nerves were wild as she helped direct some of the landscapers and people bringing gifts in from the guests. Tables and chairs, and a dance floor laid near the area where the DJ would be set up. Speakers were placed all over the estate so music could be heard no matter where anyone was.

She was in sweat shorts and a tank top and tennis shoes with no makeup. She had wanted to shower and get freshened up a little at least. Before Harry arrived. Though, she wasn’t entirely sure he actually would come that evening as he said.

But then she laughed at herself worrying so much over how she looked to her stepson. A silly silly girl, she thought to herself. Who cares? Why should she care? She was doing all this for his birthday party anyway. And she was his stepmom.

Looking down at the placement of the dance floor tiles being installed she allowed her mind to drift to that night at the club. His warm skin, his deep voice. The way he handled her like he knew what he was doing… She hated that she had been allowing those kinds of thoughts to trickle in about him. Hated, hated that two days ago when she had sex with Leo it was Harry she was thinking about.

She felt like a nasty and disgusting woman. A pervert.

In the early afternoon, the landscapers had gone and the garden looked like it was ready to be filled in with hundreds of people ready to party. She was proud of the way it turned out. It all looked great.

But she was hungry. She’d eat then shower. Hopefully, before Harry arrived. If he arrived that evening.

The chef’s kitchen had a lovely granite island with unstained walnut and wide plank hardwood floors. The refrigerator was ridiculously large. Opening up the state-of-the-art appliance she peered inside trying to find something quick to eat. She planned on having cheese tortellini later on. Leo was out for the day and told her not to wait up. That he would be back late. Some conference or something. It wasn’t abnormal for him to be gone for hours or days. She enjoyed the quiet and loved to eat simple dishes when he wasn’t around. Things that she craved like macaroni and cheese, fish sticks, or cheesy tortellini, and a bottle of wine.

She settled on yogurt and a double serving of granola as she sat at the island. She just needed an in-between lunch and dinner snack to tide her over.

Just before she scooped her last bite into her mouth she heard footsteps and then his voice, “Anyone home?”

She quickly scrambled off her stool and stood up just as he entered the kitchen. His dark curls were perfectly placed on his head and he wore a colorful Hawaiian-style shirt and black jeans with leather Chelsea boots.

“Hi! Yeah, was just eating a snack. Uh, make yourself at home, Harry!” Her tone was a bit too perky and she cringed at how silly she sounded.

Harry smiled gently and nodded as he dropped his gaze to her legs and back up, “Yes ma’am. Just gonna take this up to my room first.” He lifted his duffle bag, “Looks really good out there,” gesturing with his thumb over his shoulder, “Looking forward to it.”

“Oh, so glad you like it. It was some work to get everything just right. The guys setting up were so great, though. There are still a few more things to finish up tomorrow but I think for now we’re on track. But um…” she walked to the sink to rinse her bowl out as she looked over her shoulder at Harry, “I’m, uh… just headed to take a shower, though. Haven’t had the chance yet today. So…” she trailed off her sentence. None of what she was saying mattered to him at all. She was sure of that.

Harry puffed out a quick little laugh, “Okay. Yeah. Well, I’ll be in my room.”

Her shower was delightful but her nerves weren’t soothed. She was wound up tight and now that her stepson was here in her house, alone with her… she closed her eyes to compose herself. A ridiculous woman. A dirty and perverted creep. Who thinks of their stepson in this way? It’s absolutely disgusting. Immoral. Depraved. Evil. But it had all begun with that night and the way he danced with her. Innocent. Until it wasn’t.

She stayed in her room for a while. Not sure how she should go about acting casually in front of Harry. After that night at the bar, how could she? They had crossed a line. She had crossed a line. She took responsibility for this whole mess in her mind. She was the one at fault. Harry was only 20. Well, 21 now. Technically his birthday was today.

Fuck! She’d forgotten to wish him happy birthday!

Pulling her leggings up and slipping on a t-shirt she huffed as she paced the room. Well, now she had to go and tell him and also apologize for the state she was in when he arrived and how she’d forgotten and…

Calm down. He probably doesn’t even care, Y/n.

Knocking at his cracked-open bedroom door she peeked in to see that Harry wasn’t in there. She looked down the hallway and for some strange reason she stepped into his room and her eyes landed on his laptop that was open.

Porn.

He was watching porn. Y/n let out a surprised laugh and shook her head. She was overstepping so many boundaries. She looked at the screen as she moved away, intending on leaving his bedroom and going to find him when her eyes landed on the title of the video he had up.

Stepmom and Stepson Share a Bed

Her pulse grew fast and her palms began to sweat. Of course, perhaps that meant nothing. Perhaps that was just something he was watching that he found hot and didn’t realize it was stepmom porn or something…

She backed herself out of the room quickly but when she felt his hands on her shoulders and his voice, that fucking voice that sounded like sex, “You okay? Nearly ran me over-“

But he stopped short, a sharp inhaled breath into his lungs cutting off his words. He looked at the bed where his laptop was open and realized what she’d seen. He’d been saving his favorite stepmom porn videos lately. This one was just up. He wasn’t actually watching it before he’d stepped out of the room. It had just been on the screen when he closed out the Word doc he was working on for an essay at school.

“Fuck.” He whispered and released her shoulders, “Y/n, I… look that was just-“

Y/n turned with wide eyes and held her hand up quickly, “It’s okay. I shouldn’t have come in here. I was looking for you to um… I was gonna wish you a happy birthday, and I… I’m the one that should be sorry. That…” she pointed toward his bed, “I shouldn’t have seen that.”

Harry was embarrassed. He felt like crawling under the bed and staying there til the day he died. Never to be seen or heard from again. He was so careless to leave that up like that.

He swallowed and ran his hands over his face and shook his head, “Oh my god. Fuck.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Y/n placed her hand on his forearm and pulled one of his arms down, “Look at me.”

Harry opened his eyes and looked at her like she asked, “No worries okay? That was just nothing. It’s just porn. Everyone looks at porn. It’s normal. Okay?”

“Watching stepmom porn is normal?”

Y/n swallowed. She didn’t think he’d directly come out and say that, “Well… I mean… sure. If there’s a category on Pornhub for it that means someone likes it. You’re not the only one.” She tried to laugh but it died in her throat when Harry clenched his jaw and tilted his head back to look up at the ceiling.

“And besides,” her fingers tightened over his arm, causing him to look back down at her, “it’s not like that’s about me anyway. Come on… it’s just porn. So don’t-“

“Of course, it’s about you, Y/n. Why else would I be interested in that kind of thing?”

She let go of his arm and she felt like she could faint. She grasped onto the door jamb and wobbled as she looked down at her feet to steady herself and then back up at Harry.

“Are you okay? Here, let’s sit.” Harry took her arm from the door jamb and slowly guided her to her sit down on his bed where he promptly shut his laptop and moved the forsaken thing away from them, hidden from view.

“I’m okay,” she put her hands up and blinked her eyes as she turned to look at Harry next to her on the bed. “I didn’t expect that is all. That it had anything to do with- I just…”

“But that night at the club. That was… well… haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. I’m sorry. I know that’s inappropriate.”

Y/n bit her bottom lip and nodded before taking a deep breath, “Yeah. I guess. Me too.”

“You too? What?”

She turned to look at his verdant crystal eyes, “I can’t stop thinking about it. And it is inappropriate. And I take all the blame. It was my fault that it even got as far as it did. I’m sorry, Harry.”

Harry shushed her and took her hand, “No. Don’t be sorry. This isn’t just on you. I’m an adult too, Y/n. This is on me just as much. So, I’m sorry. I feel like I probably pushed it that night. I was the one that touched you and made up that story about that guy.”

She recollected that night and the short conversation they had about the guy that was trying to dance with her when Harry had put his hand on her hip. The man was looking at her so she thought what he said was true. She hadn’t even questioned it, “You mean that man… that he wasn’t… you did…” she couldn’t finish her thought. It was. A lot. That revelation felt dense with just enough muscle to peel away some kind of layer of wool that had been placed securely over the situation in safety.

“Yeah. I’m so sorry, Y/n. I don’t know what got into me that night. I really didn’t mean for any of this- It’s… my fault. I started it. I’m really sorry.”

She felt like they were somewhat on even ground now. He’d done that. She wouldn’t absolve herself of blame. No, not at all. She was still the heavy in this situation. She wouldn’t allow herself to feel exonerated by his admission. She was seven years older and his stepmom. She was ultimately to blame.

“God, Harry. Please. I’m…” she paused. His gaze on hers was hard to break. His soft mint eyes made him appear so pure and blameless. But then his deep raspberry lips, darkly pigmented against his face were seductive. Harry was like a siren. An enchanter. He was beautiful.

“No. You’re… amazing and I’ve just gone too far. It’s okay. This is silly,” he laughed and disconnected their eye contact as he looked downward, “This is-“ he looked back up at her and felt his heart thrum hard in his ribs, “silly.” His last word, just a whisper. A word he didn’t believe.

She shook her head, keeping her eyes on his, “And you surely have other options anyway. It’s just a phase. I’m sure you’ve got plenty to pick from. The charmer you are,” she chuckled lightly trying to lighten the mood and suggest it was temporary. That he could be with any young college girl he wanted. Probably had someone lined up for his birthday party even.

Harry’s brows cinched together and he shook his head, “No. I don’t. You don’t know this about me but… I’m actually…” he sighed and looked upward not wanting to see her expression when he told her, “virgin.”

That was not what she expected. Not at all. First of all, Harry Styles was beautiful. He was a sight! A paragon on legs with a gorgeously calming voice and the sweetest disposition anyone could ever dream of. He was perfection if there ever was such a thing. His beauty went before him but his grace and kindness were what made him so appealing. So utterly attractive. How was it that this astonishingly amazing man, absolutely as nice as anyone could ever be, was a virgin? Not to mention he had his dad’s money at the helm. There was nothing about Harry that wouldn’t get him laid in an instant.

“Virgin? Seriously?” She stuttered, “Umm… but not that there’s anything wrong with that…” She almost didn’t believe him as she asked. They’d never discussed this of course, but in her mind, it was quite impossible that he had never had sex.

“It’s true. Yeah. S’embarrassing but I really want it with… not just anyone. I don’t know. It’s not like I haven’t done anything… but I’m not like I’m sleeping with whomever I can.”

Y/n nodded. She got it. As a female that was a conundrum she had as well.

Well, it was slightly different but the basics of why she didn’t just go and sleep with anyone was the same when she was his age. It was because she felt deeply about things. Wanted it to mean something. It didn’t always after she learned that others didn’t feel the same way she did. She learned that getting hurt was sometimes part of relationships. Part of sex. As sad as that was.

“Oh.” She smiled at him and spoke softly, “That’s how I used to feel too. Thought it should be special. But then when I thought it was going to be, the guy didn’t care so it turned out it was only special for me. I realized it didn’t really matter what I wanted. I can’t control what everyone around me wants.”

Harry felt his heart pinch at her words. That wasn’t fair. And that was exactly what had him so worried. That he would give it his all only to have the other person feel as if it was nothing important. Just a moment in time.

But it was a big moment in time. It should mean something. Both people should feel its presence and its significance.

They remained silent for a moment as Harry threaded his fingers in between Y/n’s and licked his lips, “Are we alone?”

She turned her head to look at the man. The whole scenario was unbelievable to her. They’d both admitted attraction and that they’d overstepped boundaries. They also both felt bad about it all. But what did that mean? Did that mean she should just stand up and tell him not to worry about it and not to bring it up ever again? Tell him she won’t say anything if he doesn’t say anything? Give him a hug and a pat on the back?

Yes. That is exactly what she should do.

Unhooking her fingers from his she leaned in and hugged him before standing up from his bed, “Your dad will be home late. So, it’s probably better if I go downstairs and do something to keep me busy. This,” she moved her fingers to point at him and then herself, “we can just chalk up to some bad timing and hormones or whatever. Don’t worry about it. I think it’ll be better for us to just pretend it never happened.”

Harry stood up abruptly, his height overtaking Y/n’s significantly with how close he stood, “Just like that? Just forget that we both said those things?”

She took a step back as she kept her eyes on his, “Yeah. Don’t you think that’s for the best? I mean, Harry… I’m your stepmom.”

Harry pulled his lips into his mouth and frowned as he put his hands on his hips and moved away from the bed. He walked toward his door and turned back, “You can forget it and pretend it never happened if you like. I won’t be, though. I’m not going to say anything but I’m not going to pretend this didn’t happen either.”

Her heart dropped. She hoped he’d just brush it all off and try to move on. That was the best way to go about all of this. It’s not like they could have some kind of affair anyway. He was too young and his dad was her husband. It would be crazy to do such a thing.

“I mean… what did you want here? I feel like moving on is the best thing for both of us.”

Harry breathed out an incredulous laugh and shook his head, “I don’t know. Honestly. Thought…” he looked down at his shoes, “No one needed to know. No one would know.”

“No one needed to know what?”

Harry lifted his gaze up to Y/n’s, “If we… kissed or… anything. It would be easy. Dad’s never home. And you’re so-“ he blinked his eyes and she watched as he honed in on the spot where her breasts were under her t-shirt. She hadn’t put a bra on before slipping the shirt on in her haste to wish him a happy birthday, “Kind and patient. Feel like that would be really nice.”

She felt like her jaw was on the floor. Felt like that would be really nice. She couldn’t argue that. It would be really nice. A man with a warm heart in her bed. Someone she could show what she wanted without worry that he’d be offended. A man that looked like Harry. Young and with all that stamina. She imagined that he probably would want it a lot, especially now that she knew he was a virgin. That he’s been so neglected and that the moment he got a taste of it he’d never want to stop…

She shook her head before she allowed her mind to go too far into that hole, “We can’t, Harry. You understand that right,” she bit her lip. She wanted to grab him by his hips and smear her mouth over his as she pushed him into his bed and had them reenact the stepmom and stepson share a bed porno he had up on his laptop.

Harry nodded, his face set in an unreadable expression, “Of course, Y/n. I wouldn’t push you to do anything you didn’t want. I’m sorry.”

She hated that he kept saying sorry. That he felt bad for any of this when it was on her as well, “Please, Harry. Stop saying you’re sorry. You’re not to blame. I just think we should keep level heads here. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

His breathing deepened so much that Y/n could see the way his chest rose and fell under his shirt. She noted his gaze taking her in, not just her eyes, but her lips and her neck, her hips where the shirt stopped and her leggings showed under, “Oh… Y/n…” he shook his head, “I’ve definitely not been innocent. If my porn history isn’t enough to apologize for then my dirty thoughts surely are. You’d certainly agree that I should be apologizing if you knew the sorts of things I fantasize about with you.”

Y/n looked down. She couldn’t take his saturating gaze and these admissions any longer, “I don’t know why you’re telling me this. It’s okay that it’s private and as long as it’s not acted on… you shouldn’t feel bad.”

“Of course.” Harry gestured toward the hallway as he looked at Y/n. There was nothing more to be said on the matter. Harry knew she was right.

She nodded as she exited his room and heard him close the door behind her as she stepped out into the hallway. All she wanted to do was to tell him happy birthday. But instead, she left confused and frustrated and far more guilty than she had been before. She had no idea how to navigate this. But she only knew that no one could know their secret.

. . .

The caterers arrived before everyone else to get things set up. Small little aluminum warmers lit to keep the food warm. The bar was set up with a washing station and glassware (none of that plastic stuff Leo had said). The sound equipment was tested. Everything was going to be amazing, Y/n thought. For Harry’s 21st birthday party, this was surely going to be a great time.

She hadn’t seen Harry after their encounter in his bedroom the day before. He’d been quiet the rest of the evening. He didn’t even come down to eat.

Leo arrived home just after midnight and today he was working a little, tying up loose ends for something Y/n didn’t bother to pay attention to. Her mind was elsewhere anyway. Her thoughts kept wandering to Harry. Was he okay? Certainly, he wouldn’t be too upset. They hadn’t even really done anything. And they shouldn’t! Plus he was so young and he would have plenty of time to find someone special. She couldn’t be that for him. Certainly not.

Just before she’d had the chance to run upstairs to her room to get her party outfit in order she caught a glimpse of Harry as he was leaving the kitchen. His dark curls were messy. He looked like he had just gotten up.

She laughed to herself. A typical 21-year-old. Sleeping half the day away so he could stay up late and party with his friends tonight. She felt like that was a good sign.

Her dress was modest and what she deemed appropriate. She had originally selected something different for the party, but after her talk with Harry the night before, she went a more conservative route. Perhaps he’d ignore her when he saw the other pretty girls his age that he knew at the party. She hoped there would be someone else that caught his eye. Someone that could make him forget all about whatever it was that happened between them.

She pulled her hair into a low bun, smoothing the bits that always tended to poke out from a sleek do. It was easy to keep her hair this way. And it was more mature too she felt. Rather than keeping her hair down in styled waves or curls, the low bun was a nod to her stage in life. The married woman with a stepson stage.

She decided to not wear perfume or lipstick either. She wanted to do anything she could to fade into the background for the party. She’d be running around anyway, at the beck and call of the people working the party should they need anything. She knew it was probably unnecessary as the people they’d hired were all professionals and some of the best in the industry. But she felt she would need to keep herself busy.

The first to arrive were Leo’s parents (Harry’s grandparents) and then Harry’s mom, Anne. Anne had been around a lot for the last few days helping Y/n get everything sorted. Y/n was actually quite fond of Anne. Harry’s mother was a saint. She loved that her relationship with Leo’s ex was so good.

“Where’s the birthday boy?” Anne smiled as she backed away from the hug Y/n had given her.

“Oh! I think he might still be getting ready. I believe he slept in late. Saw the back of his head about an hour ago and he appeared to be half asleep,” Y/n laughed.

As more of the guests arrived, Y/n noted the young women and men Harry had invited. Plenty of attractive and exciting college kids.

The music was started and drinks were being served but she still had not seen Harry. Nor Leo for that matter (though she wasn’t surprised to have not seen Leo – probably absorbed in his work).

Going inside and tiptoeing her way up toward Harry’s bedroom to urge him to come out and join his own party she found that his door was closed. She applied two knocks to the wood as she put her ear in close to hear anything.

When it was silent and the door didn’t open, she knocked again. Harder, “Harry? You in there? Party’s getting started without you!”

Suddenly the door was pulled open and before her was her stepson looking like he was ready to kill. Not kill in the way that was violent, but kill with his looks. Kill with the way he’d dressed and left half his buttons undone at the top, a sheer milky white shirt with cream embroidered flowers draping away from his chest and allowing peeks of his tattoos. Black, well-fitted jeans and black Chelsea boots. His signature cross necklace hung between his pecs.

“Wanted to be fashionably late. You know… birthday boy and all,” he raised his brows unamused at Y/n and she felt the condescension drip from his words, “After you… step mummy,” he gestured for her to lead the way.

She was stunned by his tiny attitude. It wasn’t much. He hadn’t been particularly rude but his tone and his cheek were new. He was normally very polite with her. Very sweet and all smiles.

She nodded as she began to head down the stairs, Harry behind her. The moment they walked out to the garden Harry headed in a direction away from her. Without a word. But that was good. He should go and have fun with his friends.

Y/n had invited Marla to the party, which she was thankful for. Marla kept her mind off the tall young man of the hour.

“I can never get over how fantastic this place is. And look at all this,” Marla waved her wine glass above her head as she gestured toward the decorations, “This looks magical! When I fall in love and get married, can I have my wedding here?”

“You have to find the right man first. Ryan’s not it.” They laughed together.

Y/n wasn’t nearly as busy as she thought she’d be. As she hoped she’d be. She drank a few glasses of wine and checked on the guests but Anne had most things under control as did the staff that were taking care of everything.

She kept wishing she had more to do because her eyes kept searching for Harry. She spotted him over and over again. He was drinking whisky, with his friends laughing, and of course, there was one girl he was talking to.

She scolded herself at the touch of jealousy she felt. The girl was Harry’s age. Lovely young thing. But when she saw just the two of them talking as Harry had a hand flat on the bench behind the girl she hated how close they were standing. How flirty he looked. She especially didn’t like that the girl would reach out for his buttons and pluck at them every so often.

But why should she be jealous? He was a 21-year-old guy and he was her stepson. It was quite silly to feel anything other than happiness for him.

The cherry on top was after Leo gave his speech and everyone toasted and then the DJ began to play house music. The dance floor was packed and Y/n watched on as Harry and the young girl danced together, much in the same way he’d danced with her two weeks prior. His lanky body moved behind hers, his hand at her hip, his face close to her ear as he said god-knows-what to her.

She wanted to go out and dance too. There was no reason for her to not dance. Just because Harry was out there, enjoying his time, she didn’t need to wallow at the edge and watch the fun.

“Let’s dance!” Y/n pulled Marla with her to the dance floor.

It was just like their normal Friday night outings and since the night before they didn’t get to go out because Y/n had been busy with the party setup, tonight would be girl’s night for her and Marla.

The two laughed and moved their bodies to the beat, holding their wine glasses as level as they could so it didn’t slosh out.

She was finally having fun. Finally felt the anxiety and the guilt melt away as she danced and drank a little more wine. She had been silly to be jealous or upset. There was no reason for any of that.

But then she saw his eyes on hers. He hadn’t been looking at her all night. She figured that was for the best. But now he was watching her as he danced with the girl in the white mini-dress. His gaze was cold. His face set in a glowering smirk as he spoke something to the girl. She watched as the young woman leaned her head back to look up at Harry and his lips nipped at the space just below her ear.

She felt she could vomit. It was too much. She thought she was okay but she didn’t want to see that. Didn’t want to watch as Harry kissed anyone else and looked at her with such disdain. Was he mad at her?

She excused herself to Marla and rushed into the big house, moving into the kitchen to set her glass down. There were people in the house. Chatting, laughing, and some even dancing inside.

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes as she leaned over the island and tried to calm her brain. What was she doing? What was wrong with her?

Warm hands covered the tops of her shoulders and the deep rasp of her stepson was in her ear before she could even open her eyes, “I need to talk to you.”

She jumped in surprise and turned around quickly as Harry ticked his head toward the stairs and he began heading toward them. She followed behind, moving up the steps with him and she assumed he would want to talk in the hallway or his room but he continued walking past his door and to the other side of the house toward her bedroom.

Without even a pause he opened her door and entered her room as if he owned it. As if it were his room.

She followed in behind him, her face set in confusion. She couldn’t know what he was going to say or what he wanted to talk about.

“Was offered a blowjob,” he blurted out as he paced. “From Leslie. She’s cute and I’m… anyway… I wanted to tell you,” he stopped and looked at Y/n, moving toward her, “in case you wanted to… maybe you’d changed your mind or-“ he ran a hand through his hair.

“What?” She was stunned, “You… why are you telling me?”

“Because I want… you, Y/n.” He said with finality.

Harry was stood close with his pink lips parted as he looked down at Y/n. He was serious. He was dead serious and she was surprised. The young girl was pretty and she wanted to give him a blowjob… “Me? What about… Leslie? She’s so cute and-“

“Not as cute as you. Ever since that night, I can’t stop thinking about you.” He cocked his head and smirked, “And I like this look,” Harry moved his hand to the material of her dress gently before letting his hand drop down to his side, “Perfect length so no one gets any ideas about you. A modest silhouette. Your hair falling out of this bun you tried to hold it in,” his hand moved upward again to push the hair off her shoulder that had indeed come undone from the bun.

“You must have had too much to drink. I’m not what you’re looking for-“

“You are. You are exactly what I’ve been looking for. And I’m not drunk, Y/n. Not even close.”

Her breaths deepened as Harry’s hand stayed at her neck where he’d pushed her hair. His thumb rubbed over her pulse point slowly. And he was suffocating, crippling her resolve. Making her question her sanity. She couldn’t allow this. Could she?

“Well, it doesn’t matter. I can’t. We… we can’t.”

Harry licked his lips, “We can actually because no one would know. Want it to be you. Want you to show me. I trust you.” He didn’t lose his composure as his palm moved upward and his thumb brushed the outer corner of her mouth.

She closed her eyes and allowed her mouth to part the slightest. She didn’t know what she was doing. Letting him stand so close. Letting him speak to her about this. Letting him touch her lips. Letting his words sink into her core.

“Harry…” she breathed out his name as she felt the pad of his thumb press over her bottom lip. Her eyes remained closed. This wasn’t happening. If she kept her eyes closed she wasn’t here and this wasn’t happening. It was just a fantasy.

The trouble was though, that it was happening. And even with her eyes closed she could feel him and how he was standing so close she could smell the whisky on his breath and feel his body heat next to hers. Feel his thumb push past her lips the slightest as her tongue poked out to taste the tiniest bit. Felt his hand grip her face and his smooth mouth on hers and his hand on her waist and his chest pressed to hers.

She forced her fingers into his hair and moaned into his mouth but then- in a sudden moment of clarity, she pushed at his chest and shook her head, “This is wrong. We can’t, Harry. You get that, right?”

Harry backed away and looked down at his feet, “I do. You don’t want me.”

She nearly blurted out to him that that was incorrect. That she did want him. That she’d fantasized about him far too often but it was unhealthy and it could only lead to disaster.

Instead, she stayed quiet. He needed to drop this. She needed to stop this. It had gone too far.

When he left her room she sat down on her bed. Now she’d gone and kissed him. Tasted his lips and the way he kissed her felt so real and so passionate. She’d missed that bit of passion. That sort of enthusiasm. It wasn’t something Leo gave her at all. She didn’t even know it was something she was missing. But Harry had woken something up in her. Ever since that night. And now the kiss had felt like she was beyond getting back to ignoring that need she’d buttoned up and pushed down. She wanted more. But that couldn’t happen.

She was surprised by Harry’s gall too. He was quite pushy, which she hadn’t expected of him. Harry, who was so gentle and thoughtful and sweet was really adamant about pursuing her.

Her tummy was still warm and filled with butterflies. He’d kissed her. And she wanted to take it further but she couldn’t. That was out of the question.

. . .

When most of the guests had gone and the house grew quiet Y/n sat outside under the twinkle lights. She’d turn them off before going in and calling it a night but she wanted a few moments of peace with the last bit of the bottle of wine she’d worked her way through after Harry had gone and scrambled her good sense.

Good sense. What a laugh. As if she had any good sense after that night at the bar. It should have never gotten as far as it had.

Y/n was also sitting outside in hopes of making sure Leslie left before she went back in. Or at least gave Harry enough time to get his blowjob or whatever it was that was going on in his bedroom.

Because Y/n was well aware that Harry had her in there. He made a show of it in fact.

When she’d gotten back outside after calming herself from the kiss, Harry had Leslie against the side of the house with his tongue down her throat. And as much as she tried to ignore that and pretend she wasn’t bothered by it, she was bothered. It hurt her feelings but she shouldn’t feel hurt. Harry should be doing things with girls his age and losing his virginity to anyone that wasn’t his stepmom.

But she kept looking over at them and when she caught Harry gazing back at her as he kissed Leslie she could almost feel her hair singe in anger. He was doing it on purpose. To make Y/n jealous.

And before he brought her into the house he casually introduced Leslie to her and then leaned in to whisper to Y/n with his whisky breath, “Last chance.”

So, not only was she a little hurt she was a little pissed. Because he was being downright bratty with it.

Half of her hoped that Leslie would take his virginity and he’d get it out of his system and that would be that.

The other part of her, the depraved, nonsensical evil bit that she kept pushed deep deep down away from anyone, wanted to make him pay for being a little jerk to her. She imagined spanking him even, which was ridiculous because he was so much larger than she was. As if he’d somehow fit over her lap and bare his ass to her for a spanking. She laughed at her thoughts but they didn’t end there.

The more wine that wound its way into her bloodstream the filthier her fantasies got. He’d grow hard after she punished him and then she’d show him what a real blowjob was like. Make him forget all about Leslie. She’d let him feel her throat on him but wouldn’t allow him to come. Instead, then she’d pull him down by his hair between her legs and guide him over her, giving him specific instructions for cunnilingus. And he’d keep licking at her and begging for more of her even after she’d come. He wouldn’t want to stop tasting her but then she’d tell him to stop – that only good boys deserve more.

Of course, the fantasy ends with him begging her to take his virginity and then making him eat his come from her pussy since he came too fast, like the virgin he is.

Depraved. But god was she turned on just thinking about it. She bet he’d like all that too.

Plucking her bottle of wine up she flicked the lights off and went into the house. No sense in staying outside and hoping Harry was quiet enough when she went inside. Plus she was quite tipsy and just needed to be put to bed.

Putting the bottle down on the counter she heard Leo sitting in the living room on a call.

It was nearly 2 am so she was surprised he was chatting with anyone but she could tell it was something for work. Plans for a business trip.

Instead of waiting and talking to him, she made her way up to her bedroom. She slowly passed Harry’s room and noticed that there was a light on but no noises to be heard, thankfully.

And she wasn’t jealous. Of course, she wasn’t. What was there to be jealous of?

After a warm shower and slathering her body in lotion, she opened her ensuite bathroom door and stopped dead in her tracks.

“What are you doing in here?”

Harry was lying on her bed, sprawled out on top of her comforter wearing the clothes he wore at his party minus his boots.

Harry lifted his head and snorted a laugh, “Wanted to say g’night to my stepmom. But then I laid on your bed,” Y/n could hear the slur in his speech and saw the way his eyes floated in his sockets as he looked at her, “and it’s so comfortable.” He pressed his palms down and moaned at the feel before plopping his head back onto her stack of feather pillows.

She stood over him and placed her hands at her hips. She was thankful she’d put on her robe before stepping out of her room. Half the time she opted to walk around her bedroom naked.

“Well, goodnight, then Harry. It’s time for you to go back to your room.”

Harry squeezed his eyes closed and the grin on his mouth widened as he spoke, “Mmm… but this feels so good. S’cozy right here.”

Y/n sat at the end of the bed and sighed. He was clearly drunk. Earlier he hadn’t been when she kissed him. Now, he was very clearly inebriated.

“Your bed is cozy too, though. You should go back to your room. Get some rest.”

Harry propped himself up by his elbows and planted his eyes on hers, “You’ve been in my bed? When?”

Shaking her head and laughing at the absurdity of this whole scenario she spoke, “I know your bed is comfortable because I helped Leo pick out your new mattress. It’s the same one as this.” She patted the bed under her.

Harry nodded slowly and she noticed his gaze at her cleavage so she tightened her robe just as there was a knock at her door.

A gasp fell from her lips and she shoved Harry off the bed, whispering, “Under the bed! It’s your father!”

Harry huffed a laugh and put his hands up in surrender, “Yes, ma’am.”

She hushed him as he scooted himself under her bed and Y/n ran to her bathroom door, “Yes!”

The door opened and Leo stepped in, a suitcase left in the doorway, “I just wanted to let you know I’ve got a sudden meeting tomorrow late morning so I’ve got to take the 5:00 am out to Savannah.”

Putting the towel up to her hair to act as if she’d just gotten out of the shower (she sort of had) she walked across the room to him, “Really? When will you be back?”

“Day after tomorrow. It’s a morning meeting, then golf, then dinner. Then the next morning I have a flight that gets me back in LA at noon.”

She smiled and slid her arms over his shoulders to bring him in for a quick hug and he caught her off guard by kissing her cheek and squeezing her back before pulling away, “Car’s outside waiting,” he ticked his head toward the door, “Tell Harry when he emerges tomorrow for me, will ya?”

When she shut her door and turned toward her bed she let out a breath of relief. She was glad Harry stayed quiet. But then she realized as she lifted her bed skirt that he’d fallen asleep down there.

Rolling her eyes she contemplated what to do. Leave him there? Wake him and help him back to his room? She really didn’t want to deal with getting him into his bedroom. Nor did she want to deal with a drunk Harry by waking him up. But ultimately her guilt wouldn’t let her leave him there on the floor. He deserved to sleep in a bed.

“Harry… come on… wake up. Leo’s gone,” she pushed at his arm gently, “Harry…” she said tunefully, elongating the yyyyyy at the end of his name.

Pulling at his arm she got him part of the way out from under her bed and lifted his arm up, “Come on… wake up,” she lightly patted his face and that seemed to do it.

Harry’s eyes opened up and landed on hers. Sparkling and green and soft. And drunk.

“Let’s get you up. Come on. Time for bed.” She helped him sit up and tucked herself under his arm and began to stand to help him upward. But he was dead weight.

“Can I please stay with you? Please, Y/n? Your bed is so soft.”

She looked at him as he spoke and she realized he was not going to make it to his room. He’d have to sleep on her bed.

But that was fine. She’d just put him in her bed and then go sleep in any of the other guest rooms. It was better than letting him sleep on the floor or attempting to walk him to his bedroom.

“You can sleep in my bed. That’s fine. Can you lift up with me?”

Harry’s smile took over his features and his pink lips looked wet and soft. He was super cute when he was drunk.

“For real?” Harry raised an arm and steadied himself with the edge of the bed, the other side assisted by Y/n as he was pushed upward to his feet.

“There we go. Okay…” Y/n nudged him to sit and Harry’s full weight fell onto the bed and he laughed.

He immediately went to grab at his pant button and Y/n paused and put her hand on his shoulder, “Uh, just lie down. I’ll go and get you some water. Be right back.”

She was doing her best. Truly. She was quite tipsy herself and her bed had been calling before Harry showed up in her room. And now here she was traipsing across the massive home to get her stepson a glass of water. She figured he’d appreciate that when he woke up in the morning. And she had hoped that by the time she returned to her room, he’d be asleep and she could sneak out and go to the nearest guest bedroom and crash there. She was tired.

But when she returned to her room, Harry had successfully pulled his pants and sheer button-up shirt off and was left in nothing but his grey boxer briefs. And he was not asleep.

Placing the water next to the side of the bed he was on, which was where she’d normally be sleeping she noted, Harry stretched his arms behind his head and smiled, “Hop in.”

She shook her head and laughed as she pulled her charger from the wall and grabbed her cell phone, “No, Harry. That’s not a good idea,” she turned off the lamp on the far side of the room and began to walk toward the door.

He sat up quickly, “Wait. You said… You’re not staying with me?”

Y/n turned to look at him, handsome and messy.

And her stepson she reminded herself.

“I’ll just be next door. Think it’s best we’re not sleeping in the same bed, Harry. Just lie down and-“

“No. Please,” Harry tried to pull himself out of the bed but his motions were lethargic and clumsy, “want you here. Just… stay with me. Please. I swear no funny business.”

She sighed and began to shake her head and repeat herself but when Harry started to place his long legs down onto the floor she rushed back to him so he wouldn’t hurt himself. That was her logic anyway. She didn’t want him to fall or crack his skull open.

Steadying him by his arms she pushed him back toward the bed, “Stay. You’ll hurt yourself.”

Harry hummed and reached up to put his fingers in her hair, “I’ll stay if you stay. If you go to the guest room I’ll just follow you like a puppy dog, Y/n.” His words were watery and his gestures were clumsy.

She closed her eyes and groaned. She was so tired. So tired. And she just wanted to lie down. And she certainly couldn’t have Harry attempting to follow her to another room and hurt himself by falling down the stairs or something.

“Fine. But you just go to sleep. I’ll stay here with you but you have to promise me you’ll go to sleep and behave.” She pointed at him.

Harry’s exaggerated grin returned as he laid his head back onto the pillow and watched her cross the room to turn off the last lamp.

Fuck, she cursed to herself under her breath. She’d forgotten to put on pajamas. She was naked under her robe.

But okay. No problem. She’d just leave her robe on and it would be fine.

Climbing into bed, on the odd side, she stretched her limbs as she laid flat and closed her eyes. She was just so tired.

“Thank you. For staying. I promise I’ll behave.”

. . .

Y/n’s alarm woke her up and she groaned and reached over to turn it off but instead, her palm found a bare, solid chest. She popped her eyes open and the events of the previous night had come rushing back. She let Harry sleep in her bed and she was reaching over toward where her phone normally was but she’d been on the opposite side of the bed.

Rolling over to press the alarm off she sighed as she snuggled back into her pillow. 6:45 am was too early to be up for a Sunday. She contemplated moving herself to a guest room since Harry was still asleep but her soft bed lulled her back into a deep sleep where her dreams were vivid and she found herself kissing Harry again. But this time, her dream took it further and she was on his lap and then they were in his bed. By any standards, it was a very good dream. A very good one.

So when she woke up for the second time that morning things were… different. Her head was not on her soft pillow and there was a hand on her bottom. She slowly came out of her easy dream state, still reeling from the kind of dream she’d just had of her stepson when she realized her cheek was smushed on Harry’s pec and it was Harry’s big palm on her bottom slowly, slowly, slowly moving down toward her thigh. He was awake.

Her dream-riddled brain mulled over what was happening. It was a slow rise but her awareness steadily stirred. Her robe had come undone and her thigh was over Harry’s. His chest was rising and falling gently and she realized her palm was over his heart, which she could feel thudding underneath. She had cuddled up to him like he was one of those body pillows.

It was nice. It felt soft and lazy and sweet to lie in her bed on a Sunday morning in the arms of a man. And the leftover remnants of her dream had her still feeling wound up.

Hesitantly, she moved her head to look upward and Harry’s hand halted when her gaze met his.

She could see him swallow and he spoke groggily, “Sorry. You were… I didn’t want to wake you.”

The way his sonorous voice reverberated from his chest against her skin and her shoulder made her meltier than she already was.

Her hand was still over his chest and she could feel his heart rate increase as he kept his eyes on hers, “It’s okay. Thank you for letting me sleep.” She was going to move. To get up and pull her robe securely around her body so he didn’t catch a glimpse of anything but she didn’t want to move. She wanted to bask in the heat of him for a little longer. To feel his fingers on her bare bottom for a few more moments. Perhaps to even feel him caressing her again. And maybe… just maybe…

She slid her palm up and scooted herself fully into his arms, her chest over his, and laid her head down against his shoulder, “Let’s just stay here a little longer. If that’s okay?”

Harry blinked his eyes and knew Y/n could feel the way his heart was lobbing around behind his ribs. His cock was already hard but she hadn’t figured that out yet and he didn’t want to scare her off because he did want to stay like that for longer. With her.

He pulled his arms around her, removing his hand from her bottom and bringing it up to wrap around her back, “That sounds perfect.” He was just glad she hadn’t moved too far up or her thigh would have come into contact with his erection and surely would have ruined the moment.

Y/n closed her eyes and indulged in the way his arms felt around her. Her bare hip was against his and it felt so salacious. So tender. Her breasts were pressed into his chest, with one of them uncovered and warm against his skin.

“Dad left for a meeting? On a Sunday?” Harry suddenly inquired. He had always been suspicious of his father’s frequent trips.

She nodded her head over his chest, “Yeah. Sometimes he has weekend meetings. It’s more like a golf outing than anything. Probably just some buddies getting together for some fun.”

“Hmm… You’re okay with him just heading out like that last minute?”

“Yeah. It’s normal. I’ve gotten used to it.”

He wasn’t sure that his father was a good husband to Y/n. He found it odd too that they had separate bedrooms. But he didn’t usually question it. However, this morning he was feeling soft toward her (well, soft emotionally… physically he was anything but soft) and wanted to protect her in some way.

Harry didn’t know how he was going to survive. His boner was only growing thicker and with the way she was wiggling over him, her thigh was nearly brushing against his –

Too late.

When she nudged at it, feeling him stiff against her thigh, she smiled to herself. She hadn’t looked down over his body but she half wondered if he was as turned on as she was. It was easier for her to hide what her dream had done to her and what being in his arms was causing to slip out from between her legs, but this pleased her.

“I’m sorry. That’s… I can’t help it.” Harry explained and Y/n lifted her head up and glanced down at where he was straining under his boxer briefs. It nearly startled her too. She hadn’t expected… that. And even though he was covered up with his underwear she understood that what he had going on there was… well she’d say he was a lucky guy and it was truly an outrage that there hadn’t been a lucky girl to try it out.

“Don’t apologize,” she looked back up at him and realized he’d been looking at her boob. The one not covered. And with the way she’d lifted herself upward to look down at him, her nipple was out for him to peek at.

She licked her lips and brought her hand down over his pec to lift herself further. Bot tits made their appearance and Harry groaned and looked away, “Sorry. Trying not to look.”

Gently putting her hand up to his jaw she turned his face to look at her, “Do you want to look?”

Harry’s eyes widened and he nodded, “Well, yeah. But I didn’t think you’d want me to.”

“You’ve seen breasts before right?” Y/n laughed and slid her thigh against his thickened cock, this time on purpose.

Harry kept nodding, “Yes. Quite a few. But just not yours.” His eyes danced over her nipples and back up to her eyes, almost to make sure it was okay.

She loved his deep, raspy morning voice. Loved how gentle and intimate the moment felt.

“Did you see Leslie’s breasts last night?” Y/n teased with a smile as she lowered herself down, her naked nipples pressing into his warm skin.

Shaking his head no he laughed, “Nah. She passed out. If you thought I was drunk last night, should have seen her. Nothing happened. Wouldn’t have been able to even if we wanted.”

When Y/n felt Harry’s hand timidly return to her low back and then ghost over her ass she let out a shaky breath. She couldn’t remove her eyes from his. He was so pretty and he deserved to be put out of his misery she thought. A bad idea, yes. But to hell with it.

Sliding her thigh further over him she pushed herself to straddle him and sat up over him. Biting her lip and looking down at his chest and smoothing her hands over the smattering of hair he had and the dark tattoos… he was sexy.

Harry couldn’t stop his eyes from taking her in. Her robe was draped over her sides but was open so he could see her breasts and her tummy, her belly button and he glanced back up at her and parted his lips as he risked moving his hands over her bottom. With the way she was looking at him and touching him, he felt the risk would be worth it.

“Squeeze a little,” she whispered as she put her hands over Harry’s and directed him to take a handful of her bottom in each palm. Harry swallowed hard and panted.

“Oh my god,” his words were spoken in a quiet breath as he relished in the feeling.

When she rocked her hips forward and dragged her core over his fabric-covered cock Harry gasped and his chest rose and fell in heavy breaths.

“I had a dream about you,” she spoke as she moved her hands back up his chest and to his face as she leaned over him, putting herself directly over his erection and ground herself over him, “It was really naughty. And I’m still worked up over it. Just tell me if you want me to stop,” her pussy was wetting the fabric of Harry’s crotch and he groaned before lifting his face upward and pressing his lips to hers. He definitely did not want her to stop.

The haste of the kiss was hectic and chaotic. Harry pushed the robe off her shoulders and she flung the thick cotton down onto the floor before placing her fingers into the band of his underwear, “Let’s take a look.”

She sat back and pulled his underwear down so his cock sprung out. She continued lowering the material until his balls were free and she moaned, “It’s really pretty. Can I suck you off?”

Harry brought a hand up to his arm and pinched his skin, wincing when he felt the sting. He wasn’t sure he was really awake. Not only was Y/n completely naked on top of him, she was licking her lips and asking if she could suck him off.

“Fuck. Please yes.”

“Do you like to beg, Harry?” She grinned as she crawled herself backward to put her face above his lovely cock.

“For you, I will.”

“Mmm… such a good boy,” she looked up at him as she licked along the underside of his shaft and Harry choked out a moan. His thighs were already quivering. She figured he wouldn’t last long but that was fine for what she had in mind.

Her mouth was watering so wetting him properly wasn’t too hard as her tongue slid over his hard prick. She dotted kisses along the way and looked up at his eyes and then down to his pretty dick.

Using her hand, a palm she licked and wetted, she gently massaged his balls as she finally pulled his tip into her mouth. She lowered over him as much as possible on the first go before bringing herself off of him, “Want you to come down my throat. Okay? Want to taste you.”

Harry’s face was twisted up in ecstasy already and she hadn’t done that much, “I’m gonna come too fast.” He whined.

Shaking her head and licking over his tip she whispered against his throbbing cock, “Be a good boy and come down my throat, Harry. It’s okay if you come fast. Just feel my mouth and my tongue on you and enjoy it. Can you do that for me?”

“Ffuck…” Harry threw his head back into the pillow as she drew him back into her mouth and began sucking, “M’gonna be your good boy. Yes.”

Harry’s voice was shaky and his groans were progressively louder as she took him deeper. He clutched the blankets tight as his stepmom fondled his balls and sucked on his cock.

He’d been given blow jobs before. But already this one was far and away the best he’d ever had. Y/n was sensual and confident and she knew what she was doing. When her eyes found his every few moments that was his favorite. Watching as she looked at him dreamily with his cock in her mouth was a picture that would be seared into his mind for all eternity. Better than porn. Because it was real.

“Ahh! Shit! M’coming, please!” Harry shouted and moaned as his hands finally found their place in her hair out of instinct.

He’d pressed on her just enough that her nose was pushed into his pubes and she felt his twitching prick beating and pumping as come gushed from his tip. He came a lot. She couldn’t breathe or move but she kept her jaw wide and gagged around him as he crammed himself further into her throat and he cursed and moaned and rolled his hips upward in orgasm.

When he’d finally drained himself of everything he had he loosened his grip on her hair and she pulled up, gasping and coughing.

Harry’s fucked out gaze was adorable, she thought. A small smile on his face with pink cheeks and a splotchy red chest from the exertion of his orgasm.

She leaned over him and grasped his jaw, causing his mouth to fall open as she spit down over his tongue, “Swallow.”

Harry gulped down her mix of saliva and his come before his pink lips curved up into a big smile, “Yes ma’am.”

Y/n chuckled and then kissed him before pushing herself upward to climb off but Harry caught her arm before she could get too far, “Wait. You don’t want me to like…”

“Of course I do. But only if you want to. Have you ever eaten anyone out before?”

Harry pushed himself up by his elbows and nodded, “Yeah. Wouldn’t say I’m any good at it. Not sure I could make you come.”

There was a thrill that filed down her spine and to her toes. She didn’t need to come. She just loved how it felt to have someone with their face between her legs. It had been a while. Leo didn’t often give her cunnilingus.

“But do you want to?” She asked pointedly. She wouldn’t dream of having him do something he didn’t like.

“Fuck yes. Just show me what you like and I’ll do it.”

Harry released her wrist and she put her bottom onto the mattress and stuffed pillows behind her so she could sit up and watch. She loved the way Harry was watching her body and how dark his eyes were. He’d just orgasmed but she was confident he’d grow hard again soon. And then perhaps she could give him what he really wanted.

“Take your underwear off the rest of the way.”

Harry got up to his knees and nodded, “Yes ma’am.” A sly smirk on his lips at the new nickname he’d been using for her.

Y/n had never been a fan of being called ma’am. She felt she was too young to be a ma’am but when Harry did it in this context, it got her blood pumping wildly through her veins.

When Harry’s boxer briefs were long gone she pulled at his wrist as she opened her legs up, “Start off just exploring. I’ll guide you if you want. Use your fingers, lips, tongue… and try to keep your eyes on mine.”

Harry licked his lips and knelt over her, his hands finding her outer thighs first and spreading her wider as he looked over her glistening pussy, “So wet. Is this for me?”

His question was a surprise to her. But it was definitely lined with something innocent. Almost as if he hadn’t expected her to be in the state she was in.

Nodding her head slowly and smiling she spoke, “All for you. That’s what you did to me and you haven’t even touched me yet.”

Harry’s dimples poked into his cheeks as he shyly smiled, “Just trying to be a good boy for you ma’am.”

He jutted his tongue out and licked upward from her seeping entrance to her clit and she moaned softly as she watched him. He kept his eyes on her pussy at first. She wanted him to look up at her but she allowed him a moment to get acquainted.

He used one of his hands to gently spread her labia and lick upward again, stopping at her clit and flicking it just the tiniest bit.

“God. You know where the clit is, don’t you? That’s really good, Harry.”

He finally looked back up at her as he mouthed over her pussy and sucked gently. She keened and smiled, “Yes! Keep doing that.”

So he did. He sucked and licked, giving special treatment to her clitoris and he moaned over her as he closed his eyes and lapped at her, and kissed his way around her cunt slowly.

“Finger me. Put two in. Like this,” she reached down to his hand and twisted so his palm was upward and then pulled on his pointer and middle finger, nudging the pads of his fingers to her entrance.

His long digits inside of her didn’t disappoint. He pressed them in and pulled out slowly as he continued lapping and sucking and she gasped into the room.

She looked down at him after the initial recovery of his fingers inside of her for the first time and he was already watching her. She slid a hand over her body, stopping at her breasts for a moment before pushing her fingers into his hair, “You’re so good for me, Harry. Just like that…” she was breathless.

Harry clamped his eyes closed at her praise and used his free hand to reach up and touch her left tit. He kneaded at her flesh and then circled the pads of his fingers over her nipple slowly and she mewled, “Come up here. Suck on my breasts,” she pulled at his hair a little to lift his face, “Keep your fingers inside of me.”

Harry did as she said, pumping his fingers into her as he moved up over her body and latched on to the breast he’d been fondling. He was a star pupil. His tongue laved sensually over her areola and he continued looking at her as he stuffed his fingers knuckles deep.

Sucking on her nipple and pulling away he moved to the other side and a muffled moan vibrated over her chest and she felt his cock against her thigh. He was aroused. Thick and full once again. She knew this would happen. Or at least she hoped it would.

Harry drew his tongue to the underside of her breast and sucked in tightly, pinching her skin and she gasped as she watched him work. He moved to her other side, repeating his gesture and bruising the underside of her boob with an intense suckle that had her flesh turning purple nearly instantly.

“Fuck, Harry.”

She had little need to guide him much. He was passionate enough and horny enough that everything he was doing was just right by her standards.

Harry popped off her nipple and looked up at his stepmom with eyes that brimmed with lust and need, “I want you so bad. Please…” his dark pink lips were wet and set in a pout as he pulled his brows together. He looked like he was in pain. But he didn’t cease fucking into her with his fingers.

Y/n carded her fingers into his hair and cooed at him, “What do you want, baby? Tell me.”

She was aware of what he wanted. But somehow she was getting off on having him tell her and ask and beg with his big puppy dog eyes and pouty lips.

Harry’s hips dipped down so his prick sat in the spot right next to her pussy. She was wet all over and there was a nice little bit of glid for Harry right there as he removed his fingers from her cunt and pushed them into his mouth. He was holding himself over her with one arm as he licked her essence from his digits before pulling them out to steady himself with both arms, “You. Want to… be with you. I’m so hard again.”

She knew what he wanted. And maybe it was the haze of the dream she’d had or a sudden lack of inhibition on her part, but she wanted the same thing. And his pretty cock would feel nice wrenching into her insides and poking deeply into the viscera.

Y/n nudged at him to move back so she could sit up further, “Are you sure? Because that means you won’t be a virgin anymore. I don’t want to have you regret anything.”

Harry shook his head, “I don’t care about being a virgin. The stigma. Never mattered. But,” he put his palm over the top of her thigh and looked at her with hooded eyes, “I know you’ll show me how good it is. I trust you. Only if you want me.”

The sting of warmth shrouded her neck and then her heart. He was sweet and he was convincing.

Nodding her head she put her palm over his cheek and smiled, “I do want you. And I trust you too. Which means this has to stay between us. No one can know.”

Harry nodded. The tiny bit of scruff on his face scratched at her skin as he turned to kiss her palm and grasp her wrist in his hand, “Then, please. Just tell me what to do and how you want it. I’ll be so good for you.”

Intertwining their fingers, Y/n pulled at him to give him a soft kiss. Wet. Trembling. They both were. This was either the biggest mistake of their lives or the beginning of an extraordinary secret. They both knew it. It would change everything. It already had. They’d already given in.

Whispering as she scraped his scalp and dotted kisses at the edge of his mouth, “Do you want a condom? Will that make you feel better? I can’t get pregnant so that’s not an issue and everything else is good in that regard. Up to you.”

Y/n always wore condoms with Leo, at his insistence. Because of their agreement. An open marriage if you will. But with Harry, she’d forego the barrier knowing he was a virgin.

“Do you want me to wear one? I do have some that I’ve never used,” he laughed as he spoke the word used.

“I’d like to feel you just like this,” she lowered her hand to his throbbing shaft and inhaled sharply at how warm and thick he was in her hand, “If that’s okay.”

Harry closed his eyes and nodded, “More than okay.”

“Good. Now. When you fantasize about having sex. What position are you in the most?” Y/n wanted to have him start off with what he fantasized about. She knew he’d like any position, most men did.

The edge of Harry’s mouth quirked up as he breathed out a laugh, “Just… all of them. But, normally I’m on top,” he swallowed.

“That’s good. Let’s start there.” She lay back and spread her legs, gently pulling at him to follow.

Harry put himself between her thighs and brought his palms down to the mattress on either side of her shoulders.

“Push your hips down and line up over me,” She took her hand and guided him so that his heavy cock was slipping through her labia, getting coated in her slick, “Yes, now, move back and forth and just feel how wet I am like this. How it’s getting all over you before you even need to push inside. Feels good right?” Harry’s mouth was dropped open and he nodded, “Yes.”

“Mmm… feels good to me too. When you do that, your tip is hitting my clit. See?” She looked down between their bodies, urging Harry to do the same.

He groaned as he continued gliding through her wet pussy lips, “Fuck. So pretty.”

The sound alone was sexy. Her pussy was really wet and the noise that his dick caused with each pass through her folds was pornographic.

“We’re pretty together, aren’t we?”

He nodded and moaned, moving himself a little faster.

“Such a good boy. Now, I want you to kiss me. Keep your mouth on mine and then when you’re ready, put your delicious cock inside of me. Okay?”

Another moan fell from his lips as he lowered himself to kiss her mouth. Y/n licked over his lips and Harry opened up and used his tongue against hers as he slowly pushed his engorged dick up and down, nudging her clit on each upward thrust. His mouth was watering as he got himself into position, putting his knees down to steady himself and rearing back to align his pink tip with her puffy, wet entrance.

Never removing his lips from hers as he continued kissing her and sipping at her tongue he dipped gently into her. First, his wide head barely smoothed into her until he was met with resistance from the small muscle of her vaginal opening.

She could feel him hesitate, knowing he wasn’t sure if it was too much. She smiled into the kiss and spoke, “Just push. It’s like that on purpose. A little tight on the first go but once you’re in there it’s so good. You’re just a little thick so this is gonna be normal for you. Gotta just press in past my tight opening.”

The whimper that fell from his mouth before he pushed his lips back to hers made her head spin. But what really got her was when he did as she said and pushed in through her muscle and slid himself in half way.

They both gasped, parting from the kiss. There it was. He was inside of her. He moaned into her mouth as he pulled back so his tip was pulled out and then reentered, pushing past that tight muscle again as he licked into her mouth.

It was good. She knew it would feel good. His hard cock was heavy and thick and as he pressed himself in until he couldn’t push any further she gasped at how deep he was.

Harry was on a different plane of existence in that moment. He’d given his virginity to the hottest woman he’d ever met and now he was allowed to fuck her. She’d given him permission and he’d given her permission and his dick had never ever felt so good.

He’d had his cock sucked and he’d used toys with lube that mimicked pussy, but this was… warm and real. And it smelled like her and his mouth still tasted like her and she was moaning as he moved into her. She was enjoying it too. And that… that was the best part.

He continued moving his mouth over hers as he thrust his way into her as deep as he could get until his balls were pressed into her bum. He was more than thankful that he’d already come so he could last a bit longer. He’d still come embarrassingly fast, he was sure, but now he had a little advantage. Instead of three minutes, possibly ten? He hoped. At minimum. Because he didn’t want this feeling to ever end. He’d fuck his stepmom for the rest of his life if it felt this way. They could just stay like this in her bed, slipping together and kissing and being connected.

A knock at the door and the voice of a female was heard from behind the wood.

Harry stopped his movements and Y/n grasped onto him with one hand to keep him still and put her finger up to her mouth, “Who’s there?”

“I’m Harry’s friend, Leslie. Sorry to bother you. I didn’t know where he went.”

Harry’s breaths were rapid as he stared down at the pretty woman he was inside of. He’d totally forgotten about Leslie.

“Uh… I think he left? Maybe? Not sure hon! I’m in the middle of something and…” she didn’t know how to get rid of the girl. She didn’t want to be rude but she was truly very much in the middle of something. Something very good. She was just thankful that the door was locked.

Harry slowly began thrusting again as he kept his eyes on Y/n’s, holding himself up over her.

“That’s okay! Sorry! I’ll be leaving. Just tell Harry I will talk to him later!”

The smirk on Harry’s face as he began to press in harder had Y/n’s tummy on fire, or perhaps it was his lengthy cock pushing into her guts, “Thank fuck she’s gone. In the middle of losing my virginity here,” he laughed as he rocked his hips sharply and Y/n grunted at the harsh thud.

“Oooh… fuuu….” Y/n moaned with a smile as he did it again, “So good like that. You gonna fuck me a little harder now? Be a good boy and make it hurt a little.”

Harry was a good listener. Had always been. This time was no different. He began to plunge into her with a dizzying drag, forceful and trenchant. Just like she liked. Especially when it was Harry doing it.

“Like that? You want it like that?” He punctuated his words with each rut of his hips.

“Yeah, just like that,” she scraped her nails over his back and keened as her body was rocked upward on each of his thrusts, “How do you feel? Tell me what it’s like.”

Harry’s hips stuttered as he brought the cadence down so he could speak, “Fuck, it’s good. So fucking nice,” he wanted to say more about how it felt. Wanted to tell her he could do this with her forever and that her pussy was the only one he’d want to fuck from now on (he was sure of that). Wanted to blurt out that she was so pretty and how perfect they looked together. But he held back with the understanding that his lust was clouding the things his heart was feeling at that moment.

“Tell me mmm… oh yes! Right there!” She closed her eyes and bit her lip to keep from shouting loudly when Harry ground into her just right, not sure if Leslie was still in the house or not, “Tell me what it feels like inside of me.”

Harry’s panted words were slow and deep, “Like I’m gonna come harder than I ever have. It’s so warm and smooth. Gripping me so tight. Never want it to stop…” his hips smacked against hers as he moved into her with a hungry force.

Her mouth was wide open as her breaths were being knocked out of her lungs and her tits swayed under him.

Harry looked down at his sexy stepmom with her lusty face and body and he lowered down to wrap his lips around hers. She brought her legs over his back and pushed at his bottom with her heels to urge him deeper.

Using his forearms to hold himself up he rolled his hips into her slowing down his pace to make it last. He wanted to feel her like this for a little longer. He knew he could come soon.

Wet squelches between their bodies where they were connected and sliding together with no barriers and tiny creeks from the mattress filled the room. The sound of illicit sex. The sound of something happening that was so wrong that it was good. So good.

Y/n could tell Harry was going to come as his breaths heaved and his thighs trembled against her each time he pushed in, “Harry… you feel so good filling me up. I want to come too,” her words were panted as Harry sliced into her deeply and stilled his hips as he looked down at her.

“Want you to come too. What do you need, Y/n?” Harry’s chest rose and fell quickly as he pushed his thumb over her cheekbone.

“Is it okay if I get on top and ride you how I like? Always come when I get on top.”

Harry smiled and licked into her mouth for a good moment, pulling at her lips and grinding into her further so she could feel him as deep as he could possibly go before, pulling back and gently bringing her thighs down as she placed her feet flat onto the mattress.

Y/n sat up and ogled Harry’s body as he turned and moved to his side. She crawled over him, pushing him down to his back, and sat over her knees between his legs. She brushed her palms up his sturdy thighs up to his hips, never touching his throbbing prick before leaning over him and kissing his right thigh upward to the apex of his thigh and crotch, careful to leave him wanting. Repeating the same worship on his left thigh but taking a little time over the tiger tattoo. She looked up at him as she licked over the ink and then continued kissing her way up, devastatingly close to where he needed her. So close.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Harry. All of you,” she brushed her hands up over his laurels and to the butterfly that was rising and falling with his breath, “I’m surprised you haven’t found someone special already.” She praised. As she lowered her lips to his belly button he felt her hair ghost over his cock and whimpered.

Y/n smiled into his skin as she grazed her teeth gently upward to the butterfly licked around the lines before dotting hot kisses over his pecs, “Please… please…”

Raising her face and looking up at her stepson, “Please? What is it, baby? What do you need?” Her smirk was devious. Harry loved it. He fucking loved every single thing she was doing.

“Wanna feel you on top. Gonna burst.”

Lowering her lips back to his pecs she sucked a nipple passed her lips and nipped. Harry threw his head back into the pillow and coughed out a loud groan, “Ask me nicely. Like a good boy. You’ll get anything you want from me if you’re good, Harry.” Her words were breathed out over his skin and the spattering of chest hair. Her lips made their way up to the swallows.

“Please, ma’am. I want to feel you on top. If you… ffuck… please.”

Her grin did not disappear as she licked and pecked her way up to his neck, “I’m dripping for you, Harry. Such a sweet boy with such a big cock for me to play with. Isn’t that right?”

Harry was going to lose it. This was his fantasy. No. It was better than anything he imagined. Y/n was better. He loved being put in his place because most of the time no one ever challenged him. Or made him feel this way.

“Y…yes. Just for you.”

Y/n sat up and straddled him, placing her knees down on the mattress to the sides of his hips. Finally. She placed her messy cunt over his shaft and slid herself up toward his frenulum and down toward his base, “Just for me. That’s right. Gonna let me play with your cock and fuck myself on it and make myself come, yeah?”

Harry nodded frantically and placed his palms on her hips as she leaned forward and placed her hands over his pecs, “When I start to ride you I’m gonna go slow, up and down like this,” she demonstrated by repeating the motion of her hips, tilting her pelvis down and letting her clit drive up and down over him as she panted, “so I can keep my clit in contact with your pelvis and I’m gonna come pretty fast. I need you to let me come before you do. And if you want you can come inside of me. That’s up to you. Just let me know what you want.”

Harry nodded, “It’s okay if I come inside of you?”

“Yes, it is. Would love it if you did but it’s your choice in the end. Can come in my mouth again if you want, or my tits. Whatever you like.”

“Inside of you, please. That’s what I want.”

“Mmm… such a good boy,” she tilted herself down so her breasts ghosted over his chest as she kissed him softly, lips moving with his and small sips of tongue before she slowly sunk down over him. That same mouthwatering initial push of his wide tip into her opening snapped and then spread her apart, “Hhharry! Fuck your dick is so fucking good!”

He couldn’t speak. It was so intense. His fingers gripped her hips as she shifted over him slowly. Her nails pinched into the flesh over his muscled pectorals and he felt his balls tighten. Her moans and pretty mouth with her tongue peeking out had him leaking steadily with pre cum, “I’m trying…” he gritted his teeth and closed his eyes. Her tits swayed as she rode him and the way she felt on him had him tipping too fast, “Fuck… Want you to come first…”

She cooed and slowed her hips, sitting upright and changing the position of him inside of her. Deeper yet as she leaned back gently and looked down to where his cock was buried into her.

Harry chanced a peek, not wanting to miss it, and he was not ready for the sight. He groaned and brought one hand from her hip to her clit and then looked up at her before focusing back on the way his cock spread her pussy lips as he thumbed over her clit.

“My sweet boy. Just hang on. This feels so perfect. Just want to soak it in with you.” She lowered her hand over his fingers where he was circling over her button and she hissed, “Gonna make me come so hard Harry,” she swayed her hips back and forth, keeping herself upright so they could enjoy the lurid show of their connected bodies.

Currents of hot arousal coursed through her body as she clenched over him and felt his cock nudging her cervix. It was a tight fit but it had her body leaning into an orgasm.

She leaned back forward, Harry’s fingers pushed away as he placed his hand back onto her hip and she slid up and down, dragging her clit into his pelvis and her gasps and fluttering walls signaled to Harry she was coming.

He closed his eyes and felt sweat at his temple as he felt her squeezing and pulsing as she moaned his name and he felt her thighs shaking, “Yes… yes! Harry! I need you… need this… Hhaaarry… fuck! Fffuck!”

The mattress moved and creaked under Harry’s back as his stepmom got off on his cock and Harry was certain he was already filling her up with gushes of his pre-come. He was doing his best but he’d never experienced a cunt squeezing around him in orgasm. It was witchcraft and he was obsessed. He’d never be the same.

“Come! Harry, come inside of me baby…” she moaned as she continued rocking over him, everything slick and smooth between them.

Harry choked out the loudest moan and he was so far gone he couldn’t be bothered to care how vocal it was. He didn't care if anyone heard it. He was coming and his sight dimmed as he pumped into his stepmom’s pussy as she milked him with her spasming muscle. Together their moans were the music of relief.

Y/n could feel him throbbing and pulsing inside of her as he released his sperm into her aching and slippery inner tissues. He was punching into her so deep from below her it made her quiver in euphoric pain. She leaned over him and attached their mouths as he finished himself inside of her. She grasped his head on each side, her fingers in his thick hair to keep his head tilted up so their lips could move together.

He'd come undone completely. Tears pricked at his eyes and slid down his cheeks as he whined into her mouth and attempted to kiss her in return. He moved his hands to her ass and pressed her down as he lifted his hips so he could burrow in deep causing her to gasp and then squeak at the punishing plunge.

“Fuck, Harry!”

They were both shivering and heaving and kissing with saliva-covered lips and moans and wildly beating hearts.

When he’d calmed he sucked in a sharp breath as she collapsed over him and snuggled her face into his neck. They were sweaty and sticky and hot but it felt precious and perfect.

Harry closed his eyes and basked in the way Y/n felt on top of him, her warm breath at his neck, her wet pussy soothing his softening cock as his heart calmed. He dragged his hands up from her bottom to her back and rubbed along her spine, the pads of his fingers slipping through the layer of sweat that had formed.

He felt her lips pucker at his neck and then her nose push upward until her lips were at his jaw and then she pushed up to look down at him.

“Are you okay?”

Harry couldn’t imagine not being okay as long as he was getting fucked like that. But the issue was that Y/n was not just some girl he could date and then fall in love with. There would be no possibility of them being together. In fact, he was unsure that this would ever happen again and that had his heart sinking before he could even answer her.

She noticed the look of unease over his features and she swiped at his cheeks with her thumbs, “Hey… what’s wrong? I’m sorry, was that-“

“No. That was everything I ever wanted it to be. It was perfect, Y/n. I’m… fine. I’m okay. Just thinking.”

She nodded as she moved herself off of him and lay on her side to talk to him. He followed her and rolled to his side, his hands not leaving her hips, not yet ready to be rid of this moment.

“Tell me. What are you thinking about it? You can talk to me.” Her fingers brushed over his arms and up to his shoulders as she watched his glassy eyes closely.

Harry smiled sadly and shook his head, “It’s stupid. It’s not your problem.”

Y/n sighed and lifted her leg to drape her thigh over his, “Talk to me. Please. We just did something very risky and now we’re treading in dangerous water. Let’s keep open with each other. Okay? Because there’s no one else to talk to about this,” she grazed her knuckles along his cheekbone, “Pretty boy. Please talk to me.”

He took a deep breath as he closed his eyes to gather the thoughts brimming from his head.

“I don’t know how I’m ever gonna forget about this and move on.” He opened his eyes to look at her and slowly smoothed his palm over her side and to her breast, “I really like you. I’m feeling things that maybe I shouldn’t.”

Y/n nodded and swallowed. She loved the way his fingers ghosted over her nipple and how glassy his green eyes were, how gentle, “Me too.”

He blinked his eyes, all shiny eyelids and damp lashes covering and then revealing his pretty irises, “You do? Feel things?”

She grinned and closed her eyes. It felt like a lot. She wasn’t in love with him or anything and this had been a mistake for sure. An epic error. But she was feeling something. His warmth and his heart and his excitement. It transferred over to her veins and her skin and the roots of her hair and sparked a longing for something. When she opened her eyes again she licked her lips, “Yeah. I like you a lot. Wouldn’t have gotten this far if I didn’t.”

“Would you… consider doing it again? With me? Like,” he clenched his jaw and brought his hand up to her clavicle, “a thing just for us. Our secret?”

He was sure she’d say no.

Biting her lips she lifted herself and pulled Harry’s bottom arm under her head so she could draw in closer to him. She just wanted to be as close as possible. She brought her hand to lie flat over his heart and tilted her head back to look up at him, her thigh still braced over his hip. He moved his hand down her body to the back of her thigh as she adjusted herself in close.

“It’s so bad. What we’ve just done. It crosses a line. So many invisible lines,” she whispered as she traced her finger upward to his neck, “But… I guess I don’t care. Because I wanna keep doing it. I guess that makes me a terrible person.”

Stitching his brows together he frowned, “You’re a beautiful person, Y/n. So kind and smart,” he squeezed her hip and pulled her up to his mouth so he could kiss her. His stepmom, his lover, his paramour. He pulled back, his nose pressed to hers, “If you’re a terrible person then I’m right there with you. Let’s be terrible people together.”

They both laughed at Harry’s words and grinned widely.

It was ludicrous. A wild suggestion to continue their illicit affair. Of course, it would be easy. Too easy. That is as long as no one ever found out.

“Do I have you for the rest of the day?” Y/n tucked herself in closer as she asked.

“That you do. And I think there’s so much more for you to teach me. Might be a really late night for us.”

“Oh definitely, until the wee hours. So many things you need to learn before I let you leave.”

Next part: 2. No panties? | A Good Boy Masterlist

A/N: What did you think? I have so many ideas for this story but I didn't want it to get any longer than it already is. Would you guys be interested in seeing more? Let me know!

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