#I crave it though it's such a good song

[cassmouse]

After Hours by The Velvet Underground has an almost tear inducing nostalgic feel to it despite I literally didn't know it existed until a few weeks ago how does that work

[deus-ex-mona]

when you say you’re happy being by yourself

but maybe that’s just what you’re trying to convince yourself of…?

[rubiatinctorum]

:/ turns out i haven't bothered to learn anything for piano in THREE YEARS oh no................

[pandapetals]

Faking It

During sex, you fake an orgasm causing Logan to spiral. Once he confronts you about it, he wants to prove he can make you feel good without faking it.

logan howlett x fem!reader - established relationship, no reader description, no y/n used, faking an orgasm, self-loathing logan, slight angst, imagined worst logan but this gives dofp!logan too, vibes, smut, feral logan, p in v sex, oral, fingering, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, creampie 

a/n: idea from @yxtkiwiyxt - it ate away at my brain and being on my period really caused this to be born

divider credit: @enchanthings

Logan could feel everything. Every shift in your body, every flicker in your expression, every whispered contradiction between what you said and felt. He didn’t just sense when you lied—he absorbed it, like static in the air before a storm.

Now, with your body beneath his, every nerve in him was attuned to you. The heat of your skin pressed against his, the rhythmic creak of the mattress, the broken gasps you offered him—it was intoxicating. Yet it wasn’t enough. Something was off.

The faint furrow of your brow was his first clue. At first, he thought it was pleasure, that delicious kind of tension that came right before you unraveled. But then he felt the subtle stiffness in your thighs, the shallow way you breathed, and a flicker of doubt crackled through his chest. The feral part of him that craved, that demanded—urged him forward, driving him to thrust harder, deeper, desperate to coax something real out of you. He growled low in your ear, his voice rough with need.

“C’mon, pretty girl… make a mess for me,” he rasped, his teeth grazing the delicate line of your jaw.

You whimpered, but it wasn’t the sound he was chasing. And when the moan came—high-pitched, trembling, but hollow—it hit him like a cold slap to the face. It wasn’t real. He knew it wasn’t real.

His hands tightened on your hips as frustration swirled with something darker, something that felt too close to shame. His feral side snarled inside him, demanding he keep going, demanding release, and for one selfish, fleeting moment, he gave in. He pushed through, riding the edge until he spilled into you with a broken groan, collapsing onto the bed beside you as his chest heaved.

The room felt too quiet after, too still. Your fingers trailed idly over his chest, your touch soft and featherlight, but Logan’s body felt stiff beneath your hand. He turned his head, searching your face in the dim light, and when you offered a lazy smile, it was like glass shattering in his chest.

“I make you feel good, gorgeous?” he asked, his voice low and soft, though he wasn’t sure why. Maybe he didn’t want to hear the answer.

“Uh-huh,” you murmured, snuggling closer to him like it was nothing. Like the lie wasn’t still hanging heavy in the air between you.

Logan wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t oblivious. That tiny, fake little moan echoed in his ears, replaying like a bad song on repeat. And it hurt. God, it hurt. He’d been in your bed, in your body, but not once had he felt like he was truly with you. Not tonight.

Still, he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering there as his thoughts churned. He held you close, feeling your breathing slow as sleep crept in, and though his arms tightened around you protectively, his mind refused to rest.

Why had you faked it? Was it him? Something he’d done—or something he hadn’t done? Did you not trust him enough to tell him? The questions coiled in his gut, twisting and knotting until frustration and hurt blurred together in a haze of anger. And yet, despite the heat crawling under his skin, he couldn’t bring himself to wake you. Not now. 

This wasn’t over. Not by a long shot. Logan didn’t let things go easily—especially not when it came to you.

But figuring out how to bring it up? That wasn’t his strong suit. For a whole day, he sat on it, the frustration gnawing at him like a splinter buried too deep to pull out. He replayed every moment in his head: the way your body tensed, the way your fake moan had grated against his ears, the way you had smiled afterward like nothing had happened. By the time the sun had begun to set again, the weight of it had him wound so tight it felt like a rubber band about to snap. And, unfortunately for Wade, Logan’s rubber band tended to snap loudly.

The bar was dimly lit, its usual haze of stale beer and cigarette smoke clinging to the air. Logan sat nursing a whiskey he’d barely touched, his mood written all over his face. Wade, of course, was oblivious—or maybe just ignoring it. He leaned on the counter beside Logan, rambling on about some escapade Logan hadn’t bothered to keep track of. His jaw clenched tighter with every passing second until Wade finally poked the wrong bear.

“You’ve been pissy all day,” Wade said, squinting at Logan like he was examining a strange animal. “Let me guess, you finally found someone who doesn’t think your claws are sexy? Or—oh, wait—” Wade’s face lit up with a spark of mischief. “You’re telling me you couldn’t make your girlfriend orgasm?”

Logan stiffened.

“Oh, peanut,” Wade gasped dramatically, clutching his chest like he was genuinely heartbroken. “Say it ain’t so! The big bad Wolverine, all growls and muscles, and—nothing? Nada? No fireworks?”

Logan’s hand slammed down on the bar, the sound sharp enough to make a few heads turn. He rounded on Wade, eyes blazing, his voice a low, dangerous growl. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talkin’ about, so maybe shut your damn mouth before I shut it for you.”

Wade blinked, and there was a beat of silence—a rare occurrence for him. But it lasted all of two seconds before his lips quirked into a grin. “Ohhhh, I hit a nerve, didn’t I? Don’t worry, champ, it happens to the best of us. Well, not to me, obviously, but—”

“Wade.” Logan’s tone cut through the air like a blade. The room seemed to drop a few degrees as Logan pushed himself up from the barstool, his knuckles white against the edge of the counter. Wade threw up his hands in mock surrender.

“Alright, alright! Geez, no need to go full Wolverine on me.” Wade stepped back, but not without muttering under his breath, “Touchy subject, huh?”

Logan ignored him. He grabbed his jacket and stormed out of the bar, his mind racing. Wade might be an idiot, but even idiots could land a hit when they weren’t aiming. The truth was, the jab had struck too close to home. He didn’t care about the idea of failure, not really—not when it came to anyone else. But with you? It felt like a crack in something he hadn’t even realized was fragile.

When Logan got back to your shared space, you were curled up on the couch, your feet tucked under you as you watched TV. The sight of you—so calm, so untouched by the storm that had been raging inside him all day—made something snap loose in his chest. He couldn’t keep it in any longer.

“Can we talk?” His voice was gruff, but quieter than you expected, almost hesitant.

You glanced up, surprised. “Of course. What’s wrong?”

Logan ran a hand through his hair, pacing a little before settling on the edge of the coffee table in front of you. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs, his gaze fixed on the floor. “Last night,” he started, his voice strained. “Somethin’ was off. I know it. You know it. And I can’t stop thinkin’ about it.”

Your stomach twisted, guilt pooling in your chest. “Logan, I—”

“You faked it,” he said bluntly, cutting to the heart of it. His eyes finally lifted to meet yours, and the vulnerability there nearly knocked the wind out of you. “Why?”

The word hung in the air between you.

You swallowed hard, turning the TV off and shifting in your seat. “It wasn’t you,” you said quickly, wanting to get that part out first. “I mean, it wasn’t because of you. It’s… me.”

His brow furrowed, and he leaned back slightly, his arms crossing over his chest as he studied you. “What does that mean?”

You took a deep breath, your hands twisting in your lap. “I’ve been in my head lately,” you admitted. “I’ve been… struggling. With work, with stress, with feeling like I’m enough. And I guess last night, I just—” You hesitated, looking away. “I didn’t want you to feel like you weren’t enough. So I faked it.”

Logan stared at you for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he exhaled a low sound that was more frustration with himself than anything else. “Darlin’,” he said, his voice softer now. “You don’t have to fake anything with me. Ever.”

“I know,” you whispered, your throat tight. “I just… I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

“Disappoint me?” Logan’s voice sharpened, and he leaned forward again, his hands reaching out to take yours. “You think that’s what this is about? I don’t care about some… performance. I care about you. And if somethin’s wrong, I wanna know. I wanna fix it, not pretend it doesn’t exist.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, and you gave a small nod. “I’m sorry,” you murmured.

He shook his head. “Don’t be sorry. Just… tell me when something’s wrong, okay?” His thumbs brushed over your knuckles, his voice softening again.

You managed a small smile, squeezing his hands. “Okay.” 

Logan’s lips brushed your forehead before he pulled you into his arms. His touch was warm, and grounding, but there was something beneath it—something deliberate. His hands settled on your hips like he was afraid you might pull away.

“Now,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, “let me make you feel good.”

You tilted your head back to look at him, a soft laugh escaping your lips. “Logan, you don’t have to do that. I’m fine—”

He cut you off with a shake of his head, his thumb brushing over the curve of your waist. “No, you’re not,” he said plainly, his tone gruff but tender. His eyes met yours, intense and unwavering, and his lips quirked into a faint smirk. “You’re stressed. I can see it. I can feel it.”

Your breath hitched as his hands slid down your arms, calloused fingertips trailing a path that sent shivers racing across your skin. “Let me take care of you,” he said, his voice softer now, more coaxing.

And honestly? There was no denying it. The idea of Logan worshipping your body—of losing yourself in the way he always seemed to know exactly what you needed—was too tempting to resist. You swallowed hard, your lips parting slightly as his gaze dropped to your mouth.

“I mean…” You tried to keep your voice steady, but it wavered as his hands slid lower, settling on the backs of your thighs. “If you insist…”

Logan let out a low chuckle, the sound rumbling in his chest. “Oh, I insist,” he drawled, his grip tightening just enough to make your stomach flip. Before you could process the thought, he was lifting you with ease, his strength as effortless as it was intoxicating.

The world tilted as he carried you to the bed, his movements slow and deliberate. He laid you down with a kind of reverence that made your chest ache, his broad frame hovering over you. His lips found the delicate curve of your neck, and your breath hitched as he kissed his way down, the scrape of his stubble sending sparks skittering across your skin.

By the time his hands found the waistband of your underwear, you were already melting under his touch. He peeled them off slowly, his eyes darkening as they roamed your bare skin. “You’re so damn beautiful,” he muttered, almost to himself, his voice thick with desire.

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words dissolved into a soft gasp as his lips trailed lower, his mouth hot and insistent against your collarbone. His hands gripped your hips, grounding you as he shifted lower, and the anticipation coiled in your stomach like a live wire.

“Logan,” you whispered, his name slipping from your lips like a plea.

He glanced up at you, his smirk returning as he settled between your thighs. “Relax, darlin’,” he murmured, his hands spreading your legs with deliberate care. “Let me take my time with you.”

The first press of his mouth was soft and exploratory, but it didn’t stay that way for long. Logan was nothing if not thorough, his tongue moving in slow, deliberate strokes that left you breathless. He watched your every reaction, the flicker of his eyes on you making it clear he was entirely in control—but completely devoted to you.

Your hands tangled in his hair as the tension inside you built, his name falling from your lips in broken whispers. He hummed against you, the vibrations making you arch into him, and he responded by gripping your hips tighter, holding you in place as he worked you closer and closer to the edge.

And when you finally came undone, shuddering and gasping beneath him, Logan didn’t stop. He didn’t even slow.

“Logan,” you gasped, your voice trembling as your body shook with aftershocks.

“Not done with you yet, pretty girl,” he rasped, his voice low and gravelly. His lips curved into a wicked grin, and before you could catch your breath, he dipped his head again, his mouth finding you with renewed purpose.

Time blurred after that, the world narrowing to the feel of him, the sound of him, the way he seemed utterly consumed by the act of worshipping every inch of you. By the time he finally let you catch your breath, your body was boneless, your mind a haze of blissful exhaustion.

Logan crawled up the bed, his lips brushing over your temple as he pulled you into his arms. His hands, still warm and steady, skimmed over your back, grounding you in the aftermath of it all.

“Better?” he asked, his voice soft now, full of quiet satisfaction.

You let out a shaky laugh, burying your face in his chest. “You could say that,” you murmured, your voice muffled against his skin.

Logan chuckled softly as he kissed the top of your head. His hand rested against the small of your back, fingers tracing lazy circles on your skin. “Good,” he murmured, his tone laced with smug satisfaction but dripping with affection. “Told you I’d take care of you.”

You nodded weakly, still catching your breath, your body feeling boneless in the aftermath of his touch. Every nerve was still humming, your chest rising and falling as you tried to steady yourself. But then you felt it—a shift in the air, a change in the weight of the bed as Logan leaned forward.

Your eyes fluttered open just in time to see the smirk tugging at his lips, his hazel eyes glinting with mischief. He hovered above you, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off his body.

His lips brushed over yours in a soft kiss making your heart stutter. “Logan,” you whispered, your voice barely above a whimper.

“I know,” he replied, his breath warm against your lips. “But I’m not done with you yet.” His voice was a low growl, rough edges softened by something tender and utterly consuming. “I just want to make you feel so good.”

You let out a breathless laugh, your head sinking back into the pillows. “You did, Logan. I promise—”

He cut you off with a smirk, the curve of his lips playful and dangerous. “Okay, then,” he drawled, his tone dropping to something darker, something that sent a shiver down your spine. “If you’re good, I want to hear you whimper my name.”

Before you could protest—or agree—his hand slid down your body, his touch slow and deliberate. His calloused fingertips brushed over your stomach, leaving a trail of fire in their wake, before they dipped lower, tracing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

Your breath hitched, your body instinctively arching toward him as his hand moved closer, teasing and torturously slow. Logan’s gaze never left yours, and the intensity in his eyes made your pulse race.

“Logan…” you moaned softly, his name slipping from your lips like a reflex as his fingers finally slid between your thighs.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his voice a deep rumble of satisfaction. His touch was firm but unhurried, exploring you with a focus that made your head spin. His thumb moved in a way that had your legs trembling, and when his fingers pressed exactly where you needed them, your back arched off the mattress, a gasp spilling from your lips.

“God, you’re perfect,” he muttered, almost to himself, as if he couldn’t quite believe the way you were unraveling beneath him. His free hand gripped your hip, holding you steady as he worked you closer and closer to the edge, the tension coiling tighter with every stroke.

You couldn’t think, couldn’t speak—all you could do was feel. Logan was relentless, his lips brushing against your neck, your collarbone, and your shoulder, leaving a trail of kisses that made your skin tingle. He alternated between soft and demanding, his touch a perfect balance of control and devotion.

“Logan,” you whimpered again, your voice breaking on the syllable as the pressure built impossibly high, teetering on the edge of something devastatingly good.

“There it is,” he rasped, his voice thick with desire, his lips ghosting over your ear. “That’s my girl.”

The words sent a jolt of heat straight through you, and with one more perfectly placed movement of his hand, you shattered. Your body arched into him as pleasure crashed over you, wave after wave, his name tumbling from your lips like a prayer.

Logan didn’t stop right away—he worked you through it, his hands steady, his lips murmuring quiet praises against your skin as you rode out the high. By the time the tremors subsided, you were trembling, your body utterly spent.

He finally pulled his hand away, his touch leaving a trail of warmth in its absence. Logan leaned down, brushing his lips over yours in a kiss. 

“Still with me, darlin’?” he asked, his voice soft, his smirk replaced with something gentler as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

You managed a weak nod, your body still buzzing, and Logan chuckled, the sound warm and rumbling.

“Good,” he murmured, pulling you into his arms. His hand slid up your back, holding you close as your head rested against his chest. “Because I think you’ve got one more in you.”

You let out a breathless laugh, your cheeks flushing. 

“What?” Logan murmured, his smirk teasing and wicked as he leaned down, pressing a kiss to your temple. His breath was warm against your skin, and the way his lips lingered made your stomach twist with anticipation. “Told you, I’m not done with you yet.”

Before you could reply, his hands began their slow descent, tracing the curves of your body with deliberate care. His palms were warm and rough, gliding over your hips and your thighs. Every touch felt like a promise he had no intention of breaking.

“Logan…” you started, but your words dissolved into a shaky exhale as his fingers found the sensitive spot just above your knee, kneading gently before sliding higher.

He shifted above you, his movements unhurried, his gaze dark and hungry as he took in the sight of you sprawled beneath him. “You can take it,” he whispered, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver down your spine.

You watched as he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his sweatpants, the fabric slipping down his hips in one fluid motion. The sight of him, the sheer confidence in how he moved, made your breath catch. He tossed the pants aside without a second thought, his smirk deepening as he leaned back over you, his body heat radiating against your skin.

“Give me one more,” he murmured, his lips brushing over the shell of your ear. His tone was soft but commanding, his words rolling over you like a wave, pulling you under.

You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up, though it was breathless, tinged with disbelief at his sheer audacity. “I thought this was supposed to be about me feeling good,” you teased, your voice light, though your heart was pounding.

Logan’s lips quirked into a lopsided grin, but his eyes burned with intent. “Oh, it is,” he drawled, his hand sliding down to grip your thigh, pulling you flush against him. “But I’m pretty damn sure you’ll feel real good giving me what I want.”

The heat in his gaze sent a fresh rush of anticipation coursing through you, and you felt your teasing resolve falter. His fingers trailed over your skin, mapping every inch of you as if he were committing it to memory. When he shifted lower, pressing his lips to your collarbone, then to the soft curve of your breast, his mouth was hot and insistent, each kiss drawing soft gasps from your lips.

You barely had time to process the way his teeth grazed over your skin, sending sparks skittering down your spine, before his hips pressed against yours, his body slotting against yours perfectly. His movements were slow at first like he was savoring every reaction he pulled from you.

Then Logan whispered, husky and dripping with that dark, primal edge, “I want you to feel it everywhere, darlin’—every inch, every second. No faking this time.”

Your breath hitched, the intensity in his voice making your head spin, your body arching into him in a silent plea. Logan’s lips curved into a knowing smirk against your skin. His hands were everywhere—gripping, teasing, worshiping—making it impossible to think, let alone resist the pull of him.

As his mouth found yours, the kiss was all-consuming with the addictive mix of dominance and tenderness only Logan could manage. You clung to him, your hands sliding over the planes of his back, your nails digging in just enough to make him groan against your lips.

“You feelin’ good yet?” he teased, his voice low and rough, thick with need. His lips hovered over yours, close enough that you could feel the heat of his breath, but not quite touching, a maddening taunt that sent a fresh wave of anticipation rolling through you.

Your fingers curled against his shoulders, desperate to ground yourself as his pace shifted. He moved deeper, his hips rolling in a way that made your back arch off the bed, a gasp tumbling from your lips before you could stop it. The deliberate rhythm he’d kept moments ago began to unravel, his movements growing more intense, more insistent.

“Logan,” you whimpered, his name spilling from your lips like a prayer, shaky and breathless.

“That’s what I like to hear,” he growled, his voice rumbling in his chest like a distant storm. His lips brushed over your jawline, leaving a trail of heat as they trailed down to the sensitive spot just below your ear. When his teeth grazed your skin, a soft cry escaped you, your body tightening beneath him.

He groaned low, the sound vibrating against your neck, as your nails dug deeper into the muscles of his back. “So good for me,” he murmured, his voice thick with praise.

Your response came in broken gasps and soft whimpers, your head falling back as the sensations overwhelmed you. Each thrust was deliberate, calculated, but they grew harder, deeper, until your body melted into the mattress, pliant and trembling under him.

The tension in your stomach coiled tighter, white-hot, and electric until it felt like you might come undone. You couldn’t think, speak—could barely even hold on—your body responding to him instinctively, as though it were made just for this.

“Look at me,” Logan rasped, his voice pulling you back to him. Your eyes fluttered open, dazed, to find his gaze locked on yours, burning and unrelenting. “That’s it, pretty girl. I want to see you.”

His hips pressed into you again, hitting the spot so devastating that your eyes rolled back and a broken cry escaped your lips. You clung to him, your body trembling as pleasure surged through you, raw and overwhelming. His name spilled from your mouth in a whisper, soft and reverent, and it only seemed to spur him on.

“Good girl,” he muttered, his voice rough and frayed, his movements driving you higher and higher. “Just like that.”

When you finally broke, the world seemed to splinter apart, the sensation crashing over you in waves so intense you could hardly breathe. Your body arched into his, your thighs shaking as your release consumed you, dragging you under.

Logan slowed, his touch gentler now as you trembled in his arms. He pressed soft kisses to your neck, shoulder, and temple, breathing heavily and unevenly against your skin.

“You okay?” he murmured, his voice softer now, warm and teasing as his lips ghosted over yours.

You managed a weak nod, your body still thrumming with the aftershocks, and he chuckled, his breath tickling your cheek.

“That’s my girl,” he said, his tone low and full of quiet pride. He tucked you closer against him, his arms wrapping around you protectively, and you let yourself melt into his warmth, utterly spent but completely safe in his embrace.

[jezebelblues]

𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐋 | 𝐇.𝐒 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖ 𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋

ᝰ.ᐟ 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡���𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬—𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢’𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐚 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞.

𝐚 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐚𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐢𝐭, 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐰𝐚𝐲.

𝐂𝐖: smut18+ fingering, penetration (p in v), a smidge of spanking, mommy issues, 2016!harry, angst, i guess. all in upper case if that gets u goin. fem!reader, unedited cause i fell asleep writing this. gn. mwah :*

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: approx 17k

❏ burning hill by mitski teehee !! was the main inspo for this

not my gif. if u have the info of the original creator, lmk so i can appropriately credit them.

masterlist

It’s been fifteen months since the group announced their hiatus.

Phone calls became scarce, and so many words were left unspoken, drifting into that space where they might never find their way back. For the first time in years, he felt free—untethered from the rhythm of living intertwined with three other lives. At first, the quiet felt unbearable, like the silence after the crowd fades and the lights go down. But slowly, the loneliness began to feel like home. A strange sort of comfort in the quiet. He found a semblance of privacy—at least a bit more than he had in the band.

Harry felt that, since the hiatus, the fans had grown older with him, their wide-eyed fascination dulled by time and reality. There were fewer frantic moments, fewer desperate hands pulling at him. Now, on a good day, he could stroll through his hometown, maybe get stopped for a polite photo. Occasionally, there were still shadows trailing him—paparazzi or a fan trying to be invisible but failing, always just out of reach. He didn’t like it, not really, but he’d learned to live with it. It’s what came with the territory, a price he thought he’d long accepted.

But it was the writing that kept him grounded. Kept him real. The one thing that still felt like his own. His debut album was close to finished now, though the mixing, the rewrites, the constant tweaking—it never felt like enough. There was this tightness inside him, a knot of anxiety that refused to unravel. Would anyone like Harry styles, the solo artist? Or would they always only care about Harry, the boy in the band?

He wasn’t ungrateful, not for a second. But deep down, he craved something more. He needed the space to finally figure out what he wanted, to break free, to become something else entirely. Something new.

It’s been eight months since he met YN.

It was happenstance, through his manager—though sometimes Harry liked to imagine it was fate. It was one of those coincidences that felt too deliberate to be real, like something out of a half-finished song. She was Jeff’s goddaughter, on the periphery of his world, but until then, she’d been just another name mentioned in passing.

YN started her internship at the recording studio in the beginning of April of this year. She moved to New York with a close friend shortly after her twenty first birthday, saving up for what felt like forever, and Jeffery instantly had the idea of corroborating with the studio about an internship. He knew of her uncertainty about the future. He knew about the interest in music YN had, and he wanted to give her a chance.

Jeff had told her it was a paid internship, though it really wasn’t. He was the one who was paying her through check, under the guise of the studio. She would freak if she found out, turning it all down—Jeff knew that all too well.

Her first month was moreso about passing time. She’d work on any logistics, learning about the soundboard and how it worked hand in hand with the recording aspect, not to mention the process of remastering, mixing, finalizing. Harry was in and out those first three weeks, still finishing up a few interviews and whatnot. YN talked to him a few times when he’d pop in before taking off again, he was sweet. Still, she needed something to do until he was finally able to settle down to focus on one of the last stretches of the album—and giving her busywork was just that.

She wasn’t supposed to be at the office that day in May, but Jeff made her come along before they would continue their constant work at the drawing table, in the booth. It was the day he decided to cut his hair—and there she was, sitting quietly on the edge of the room, trying not to be seen, caught up in the swirl of conversations she didn’t quite belong to yet. There was something about her, something he couldn’t put his finger on. The way she observed everything, but didn’t feel the need to make herself known. A quiet confidence, maybe, or just a complete lack of pretense.

When she offered to help with the cut, everyone laughed, but he said yes. He didn’t know why, maybe because she didn’t treat it like this big, defining moment. The whole world was making such a fuss about his hair, like that was all he was, all he’d ever be. But YN? She just smiled, grabbed the scissors, and got to work. No ceremony, no theatrics—just a few careful snips, and suddenly he was lighter, like he could breathe again.

Afterward, they’d joked about how she should switch careers. But she’d only smiled that same quiet smile and said she was more interested in being on the other side of music. She was learning everything she could. At first, she was just there, hovering at the edge of things. But before long, she was everywhere. Quietly slipping into conversations, offering up ideas that stuck with him long after she’d left the room.

She wasn’t like the people he usually worked with. She wasn’t starry-eyed, wasn’t afraid of him or the idea of him. YN spoke to the brunette like he was just a guy making music, figuring things out. And maybe that’s what drew him in, slowly at first, then all at once. She didn’t see Harry Styles, the soloist. She saw Harry—the restless, uncertain man who wasn’t sure if he was running from his past or trying to carve out a future. He was human, an equal, not an enigma.

He caught himself thinking about her more than he should, replaying their conversations in his head when he was alone in his flat, the silence pressing in around him. She had this way of getting under his skin without even trying, making him wonder if he’d been doing everything wrong up until now. Or maybe, just maybe, she was the first person to make him feel like he didn’t need to have all the answers.

There was something magnetic about her, a pull he couldn’t quite shake. He’d see her in the studio, headphones on, scribbling notes on a track they’d been working on, her brow furrowed in concentration. She cared about the music, really cared, and he respected that more than he could say. In the rare moments she’d look up and catch him watching, she’d smile—soft and unassuming, as if she wasn’t at the center of this storm he was slowly getting lost in.

He’d thought about it, late at night when the studio was empty, and all he had were his thoughts. He wasn’t sure if it was the music that kept him coming back, or if it was something else entirely.

But the truth was, ever since she walked into his life, the world didn’t feel as heavy. It didn’t feel so lonely anymore.

YN had a quiet way of carrying herself, something light and untouchable, like she’d mastered the art of being present without ever fully giving herself away. It was part of what made her so magnetic, Harry thought, but it also kept her at arm’s length—just out of reach. The more time he spent with her, the more he sensed there were pieces of her story she wasn’t ready to share, things she held onto with a grip so tight, it almost hurt to watch.

Her father had been older when she was born, older than Jeff was, at least—a man who had already been through his share of mistakes and regrets by the time he met Jeffery in college. YN’s dad had been trying to start over, to build something solid for himself after years of wandering. They clicked right away—two guys who didn’t have much in common on the surface, but who understood each other in the ways that mattered. Jeff was young, still wide-eyed and ambitious, while YN’s father had lived a little longer, seen more of the mess the world had to offer. They bonded over that, and when YN was born, Jeff had been right there, practically family.

YN’s mother had left when she was just a baby. No warning, no messy custody battle, just gone. Her dad was the moon, always there—faintly during the day when he worked, but always present by night. Her mother was a solar eclipse, popping up in certain areas every now and then, but never staying. Maybe she’d call and wish her a belated happy birthday, or send a card for Christmas that year. She was always fleeting. And YN thought herself the stars, always there, always ever connected to the two despite time and space.

So, her father had raised her on his own, doing his best with what little he had. Jeff had been named godfather not long after her birth, and though he didn’t say much about it, YN knew he’d always carried a quiet kind of guilt. Like maybe if he’d been around more, her life might’ve been different. She never blamed him, of course—she adored Jeff, looked at him like he was some kind of anchor in her life, a second father figure, someone she could always count on. But there was no denying that a part of her had been shaped by absence, by the cold reality of her mother’s abandonment.

She didn’t talk about her mother much. When they’d first started getting to know each other, Harry had asked her once—offhandedly, without thinking—and the way her expression shifted, the way her walls shot up so quickly, he knew not to push. He’d seen it before, in himself, the instinct to hide away when the past felt too close.

Harry didn’t know much about her. They hadn’t talked about personal things, not really. Her past wasn’t something she talked about, not with anyone, and especially not with people like Harry—people who had the world’s attention, people who might think she was just another girl with a tragic backstory. But he knew she was Jeff’s goddaughter, that she was interning at the studio, trying to figure out if music was the career she wanted. He knew her favorite artist and color, knew her favorite subject in school and her best friend’s name—Marisol. He knew she preferred sunsets over sunrises, mountains and forests over beaches. But it felt superficial, barely scraping the surface. He wanted to know more. She seemed talented, driven, but there was something else—something in the way she held herself back.

There were moments when he’d catch her smile, but it was always soft, fleeting. Like she was offering a glimpse of something deeper but never letting him get too close. It intrigued him, the way she could be so kind yet so guarded, as if she’d learned not to give too much away. It was a look he recognized, one he saw in himself sometimes, when the weight of expectations and the uncertainty of his solo career pressed too heavily on his shoulders. But with YN, it felt different. It felt like something that had been there long before she ever stepped into the studio.

Moving to New York had been her way of starting over. She’d wanted to escape the weight of her past, to carve out a life that was her own. Jeff had given her that opportunity, and even though she hadn’t been sure it was what she wanted at first, she found herself falling into the rhythm of it. The work was hard sometimes, but it felt good, like maybe she was finally building something of her own. But even here, in this new city with new faces, YN still felt that familiar pull—the instinct to keep her distance, to protect herself from getting too attached.

He wasn’t sure she���d let him in, anyway. YN was like that—careful, cautious. Maybe she always would be.

In June, a little over two months since YN started working in the studio, she and Harry had formed an easy, steadying friendship. YN wasn’t like most people in his world. She understood his music in a way that felt rare—intimately, deeply, as if she could feel the weight of each word before he even sang it. It touched him more than he could admit.

But as much as he was drawn to her, Harry could sense the distance she kept between them. It wasn’t obvious, not in a way anyone else would notice, but there was a part of YN that stayed hidden. She had a warmth to her—she was kind, smart, and always knew exactly what to say when he asked for her help. But when it came to the deeper parts of herself, the parts Harry desperately wanted to know, she stayed locked away. He saw it in the way she smiled when something hit too close to home, or the way she never let conversations stray too far from the task at hand. It was as though she’d built an invisible wall around herself, and no one—not even him—was allowed through.

But he knew better than to push. For now, their connection revolved around the music.

Sometime in early June, they were hunched over in their usual studio chairs, working on the final track of his debut album. The song had taken weeks to perfect, but they were close now—closer than they had been. From the Dining Table was raw, achingly personal and YN, somehow, had helped him shape it into something even more honest than it had started.

“What if you lean into the third verse more?” She suggested, her pen tapping the page thoughtfully. "The emotion's there, but it's like you're not letting yourself feel it fully. Especially in that second verse–maybe one day you’ll me, and tell me that you’re sorry, too. You're pulling back right when you should lean into it."

Harry stopped playing with the strings on his guitar and looked up at her, brow furrowed. "What do y’mean?"

She hummed, biting her lip as she considered the words, her fingers brushing the edge of the paper. “Maybe drop the keys lower in the last chorus..” She trailed off, lost in her own thought process. She shifted in her chair, leaning forward slightly as she studied the lyrics. "It's heavy, but it could be even more vulnerable. You're singing about something really personal here, about the kind of loneliness that feels like it's eating you alive. But in the melody, it feels..safe. I think you need to make the vocals feel a bit more broken, like you're barely holding it together. Let the silence in the song do some of the work. Think about pulling back on the production, too–keep it more stripped down.” She laughed lightly, a bit sheepish. “If that makes sense.”

Harry nodded slowly, the words hanging in the air between them. She got it. She always got it. The lyrics had been twisting inside him for weeks, and it was YN’s careful guidance that had finally helped him pull them into something real, something tangible. He picked up his guitar, adjusting the chords she mentioned, and played the verse again. The notes hung heavier in the air this time, more space, more quiet.

“There.” YN murmured. “That’s what it needed—the space between the words, the silence. That's where the emotion is."

For the next few hours, they went back and forth, fine-tuning the melody and adjusting the lyrics. YN suggested cutting down the instrumentation, making it feel more intimate, like a conversation Harry was having with himself. And as the song started to take shape, Harry felt a weight lifting. It’s what he wanted for the song, it deserved this rawness, this vulnerability.

Over the next two weeks, they worked tirelessly on the track, tweaking the lyrics, adjusting the production. YN had suggested subtle changes in the arrangement—adding faint background harmonies, letting the piano take the lead in certain sections. It was her idea to introduce a low hum in the final chorus, something atmospheric that made the song feel like it was dissolving into the empty spaces of the room. Harry trusted her instincts completely by now, her intelligence and understanding of the music so sharp that he barely needed to question her advice. She had a way of knowing what the song needed, even when he couldn’t see it himself.

By the time they reached the last day of recording that track, the song had transformed into something that felt like a piece of his soul, laid bare for the world to hear. It was time to play it for the team, to record the final version that would make it onto the album. She didn’t hear it in its entirety yet, only the parts Harry would reveal that he wanted insight on.

The band was ready, gathered behind their instruments, and the rest of the team sat in the control room, waiting to hear what he had spent weeks perfecting. The studio felt heavier than usual, the air thick with anticipation. Harry glanced over at YN, who was standing by the glass that separated the studio from the control room, her arms crossed loosely in front of her. She was watching him, as she always did, but there was something different in her eyes tonight. He couldn’t place it—something softer, more vulnerable than usual.

Harry picked up his guitar, gave the band a nod, and stepped up to the mic. The first notes echoed through the room, soft and haunting. His voice followed, low and steady, each lyric pouring out an isolation he had written into the song, each verse dripping in melancholy. The room around him seemed to blur, and for a moment, it was just him, the music, and the truth of what he was singing.

“Maybe one day you’ll call me, and tell me that you’re sorry, too.”

His voice cracked slightly on the word sorry, just as it had in practice. But this time, it felt different. More real. More final.

As the song continued, Harry’s gaze flickered over to YN. She was still standing by the glass, but something had changed. Her arms had fallen to her sides, and her eyes were fixed on him, wide and shimmering with unshed tears. It was subtle at first—a quick blink, a shift of her expression—but then he saw it. A tear slipped down her cheek, and YN quickly brushed it away, trying to hide the emotion that was overtaking her.

But she couldn’t. Not this time.

By the time the song ended, the room was filled with the soft, fading echoes of the final notes. Harry stood still, the guitar resting against his chest, his breath uneven. He watched as YN slowly stepped forward, closer to the glass, her eyes still glistening. She rested her hand gently on the pane, the only thing separating them, and gave him a small, almost imperceptible nod.

It was all he needed. That nod, that single moment of unspoken approval, meant more than words ever could. She understood—she always had. But seeing her moved by the song, seeing the tears she tried so hard to hide, told Harry more about her than she’d ever let on.

For the first time, Harry felt like he had reached her core, even if just for a second. And as the team buzzed with quiet admiration for the track, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from YN. Because in that small, fragile moment, she had let her walls down. Just enough.

And Harry realized, standing there with the music still humming through his veins, that maybe he wasn’t the only one who felt something more between them. Maybe YN wasn’t as unreachable as he had once thought.

July had seemed to’ve breeze past, almost gone in a daze. It was Friday, and there would only be two more Fridays left till they would have to flip the colander pages to August. The heat of the day still mingled in the air as the studio settled into its usual weekend quiet. The crew had all left for the night, tired but satisfied after wrapping another long day of recording. The album was nearing completion, and the tension that had built up over the past few months was finally starting to lift. Harry could feel it—the sense of relief, of something monumental coming to an end—but there was still so much hanging in the air between him and YN, at least that’s what he felt.

They were alone in the lounge now, the soft glow of the low lights casting faded shadows on the walls. YN sat on the couch, her legs tucked beneath her as she sipped from a recently topped-off flute of champagne, her eyes tired but content. They had opened the bottle to celebrate finishing another track, Two Ghosts. YN wasn’t there when the production first started for this song, only there for the finalized remastering of it that finished today—and she had insisted he must celebrate, the fizzy sweetness a small reward for everything he’s been pouring into the album.

"Cheers!” Harry had laughed, clinking his glass against hers with a lopsided grin. "One more down."

He didn’t quite remember what glass he was on, but he could feel the familiar buzz of being tipsy, like he could float. Besides the lounge, the rest of the building was dark, only light seeping through was from the city outside. Harry leaned back against the arm of the couch, his legs stretched out in front of him, the remnants of his drink swirling lazily in his glass. He felt relaxed—more relaxed than he had in weeks. Maybe it was the champagne, or maybe it was the fact that they were finally nearing the end of the album. But it wasn't just that. It was YN, too.

And god, she looked gorgeous.

She dressed down for the day, knowing it was Friday and she could fall into bed as soon as she got home. A hoodie hung loosely over her frame, the pair of lounge shorts coming a little bit above her mid thigh. The alcohol seemed to give her eyes more of a sparkle, her skin flush—Harry wondered if alcohol could make him look as pretty as she, but he ended up on the conclusion of probably not.

“I know I said this already.” She giggled, taking a sip of the bubbly. Her smile was hazy, eyes clouded over. “But the song sounds great.” She enthusiastically sent him a thumbs up, the bottom of his feet against the bend of her knees as his legs remained sprawled out over the couch. The curly haired boy already asked if he should move to give her more space, but her dismissal was a shouted, pleading whine of no, stay! “You should be famous or something.” She sent him a wink, and he couldn’t stifle the laughter that escaped him from how slow and exaggerated she’d done it.

The lightness in the air was contagious, and they both seemed to be floating, untethered and free from the usual tension. He rested his temple against the back cushion of the sofa, his lazy grin seemingly impossible to wipe off. “Dunno, sounds like a lot of work. Maybe I’ll jus’ start a bakery instead.” He shrugged, taking a swig of what was left in the flute after parting ways between his head and the cushion beside him. “Styles’ Pies, what d’you think?”

YN snorted, nearly spilling her champagne as she pictured it. “You? In a bakery? I don’t even think you can make toast without burning it.”

Harry’s eyes widened in mock offense. “Hey, m’great in the kitchen. You’ve just never seen me in action.”

“Oh really?” YN arched a brow, clearly unconvinced. She set her glass down on the table, waving her hand as if conducting an imaginary cooking show. “Alright, Chef Styles, what’s your signature dish? Burnt toast with a side of undercooked eggs?”

He groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. “I’m never gonna live that down, am I? That was one time!”

“Ah-ha!” She teased, biting her lip to hold back another laugh. “You know, they might not even let you into the bakery with that track record. Health code violations, and all.”

“Oh, come on!” Harry huffed, but there was a smile tugging at his lips. “I’ll have you know, I’m actually a master at making..” He paused, narrowing his eyes in thought. “Pancakes.”

YN burst into laughter again, this time nearly doubling over, gently clasping her fingers around his ankles for support. “Pancakes? Oh god, I bet you’d flip them right onto the floor.”

“Oi, that’s not true!” Harry was laughing now too, his cheeks flushed from the alcohol and the easy back-and-forth. YN had placed her hands back into her lap after grabbing her glass again, legs still tucked underneath her. “I’ve got skills. Just wait. I’ll cook f’you one day, and you’ll be begging for more. You’ll never want to leave m’kitchen.”

She wiped away a tear from her drunken laughter, a banter that probably would not be as entertaining if she was sober. “We’ll see about that. I’ll be your taste tester—but don’t be mad if I spit it out.”

“Oh, y’ruthless tonight, huh?” He nudged her playfully with his foot, legs still draped along the sofa. “Well, if pancakes don’t win y’over, I’ll just serenade you with some of m’songs. You won’t stand a chance.”

YN’s laughter turned into a snort as she brought the flute to her lips, taking another sip before grinning at him. “Woo me with your guitar? Play a little ditty about burnt toast?”

Harry leaned forward, dramatically mimicking strumming an invisible guitar, his expression serious as he sang, “Maple syrup, coffee, pancakes for two..”

YN feigned a cringe, holding her ands out in front of her as if to block the very sight of him. The tune was cute, but she would never admit that. Harry could barely keep it together as he leaned back against the sofa’s arm, rolling his eyes as she finally lowered her hands. “And I’ll have you know I worked n’a bakery in Holmes Chapel, favorite employee, too.”

“My god, aren’t you a prodigy?” She smiled, tilting her head to the side as if pretending to be bashful. “Singer, songwriter, baker of the month.”

“Y’damn right.”He tipped an imaginary hat on his head, “I contain multitudes.” He winked, a better one that YN had sent earlier, his grin wide and a little bit tipsy.

They sat in the comfortable silence that followed, both of them still chuckling under their breath, the champagne buzzing through their veins like a soft lullaby. Harry glanced over at YN, her face flushed from laughter, her body relaxed in a way he hadn’t seen before. She looked free. Happy. And it did something to his chest, a tug he couldn’t ignore.

“Hey.” he said softly, stretching his ankle ever so slightly to gently nudge her knee with his foot. “Y’having fun?”

She nodded, her smile softening as she glanced at him. “Yeah. I am.” Her voice was quieter now, the playful energy of a moment ago still lingering, but with something else creeping in. Something softer, more intimate.

Harry smiled back, his heart doing that stupid fluttering thing it always did around her. “Good, m’glad.”

There was a beat of silence before she spoke again, her words coming out slower, as if she was trying to steady herself. “You’re..not what I expected.”

Harry tilted his head, a curious smirk tugging at his lips. “What’d y’expect?”

She hummed, “Don’t know.” She said with a shrug, her fingers tracing absentminded circles on the cushion. “Someone a little more, I don’t know–untouchable? Like, y’know, the harry styles,’ the big deal. But you’re just harry styles, my friend.”

He laughed softly, playing with the hem of his bright pink shorts. “Jus’ me, huh? Guess that’s not s’bad.”

“It’s not.” She smiled, her eyes locking with his, and for a moment, something passed between them. Something heavier, like an acknowledgment of everything unspoken.

Harry shifted, suddenly aware of how close they had gotten during her revelation. His hand, which had been resting on her knee, slid a little higher, his fingers brushing the soft skin of her thigh. The playful banter was still there, but it was quieter now, replaced by a tension that neither of them could deny any longer.

“Y’know.”she said, breaking the silence with a small smile. “I still don’t believe you can make pancakes.”

His eyes darkened with a mixture of amusement and something deeper as he leaned in, his voice low and teasing. “Maybe I should make you breakfast tomorrow morning then.”

YN’s breath hitched, her pulse quickening at his words, and she opened her mouth to respond, but before she could say anything, Harry’s lips were on hers. She instantly melted into it, as if an instinct. However, after a beat, the palm of her hand pressed against his shoulder. Their lips slowly separated, strings of saliva snapping at the middle from their mutual departure. Her breath rose and fell rapidly, a small smile on her lips. “How are you gonna make pancakes at the st–.”

Harry had cut her off with a groan, but it was humorous, mixed with his giggles. “Y’stopped that t’get technical?”

YN shrugged before pulling him back into the kiss, unwavering, still. It was tentative for a moment, as if he was waiting for her to push away again, but she didn’t. Her fingers curled into the fabric of his t-shirt, lips in sync as she deepened their kiss.

The taste of the fruity champagne lingered between them, intoxicating and heady. It grew hungrier, more desperate as if months of unresolved tension had finally snapped. YN’s tongue found itself swiping a soft stripe against his bottom lip, a heavy sigh emerging from him as his fingers brushed along the hem of her hoodie, slipping his hands underneath, his palm resting on the warm curve of her waist.

“H–” She whispered against his lips, her voice breathy, almost a plea. But it wasn’t a plea to stop—it was a plea for more.

His name on her lips drive him mad. With a low grown, he shifted, pulling her into his lap in one fluid motion. Her legs straddled him, holding herself as close to him as she could, their kisses turning feverish. His large hands pulled her even closer—not a centimeter of space to be left. He parted his lips, a broken breath tumbling from his mouth as she started to roll her hips against his growing cock stuck underneath the hot pink shorts.

His ring clad fingers slip father up her hoodie, the coolness of the medal a sharp contrast to the heat radiating off the both of them. Harry tugged on the fabric, pulling it over her head in a rush, revealing the thin bralette underneath. “Fuck–” He mumbled, breath caressing her skin as his lips skimmed the bone of her jawline, placing a slow, tentative kiss right at her pulse point. “So beautiful.” He was drunk in the moment that was her—figuratively and literally—his voice distant and light, like a voice breaking through a daydream.

She rolled her hips harder against him as his hands slipped under the hem of her shorts, lips sloppily trailing her chest, her nose buried in his curls. A soft moan is drawn from her as Harry’s hands grip her ass, aiding her movements of dry humping his cock. His tongue grazed the fleshy part of her breast that threatened to spill out of her bra, a shuddering exhale brushing from her lips, right into his disheveled locks.

She hastily cups his chin, pulling him from her chest to messily kiss him again. She wanted to taste the faint peach on his tongue from the champagne, to feel the stubble above his lip tickling against her. They both moaned into each other’s mouths, her fingers running down his shirt, tugging at the hem. He smiles, parting from her to pull his shirt off. It was rushed, his chin getting caught in the collar which made laughter sit between them comfortably. YN gently helps him pull the shirt from his head. It was discarded somewhere on the floor, its whereabouts not a priority.

Their cheeks are flush, lips plump and vibrant as they fall into each other’s eyes—their giggles fading out and their heavy breaths replacing it. “I want you.” She whispered, her gaze trailing from his eyes, to his lips, along the markings of his torso, then back up again.

He nodded, pressing his forehead against hers with a shaky breath. “Yeah?”

She hummed, though it sounded similar to a purr—a divinely feminine melody that made him twitch under the fabric that held him from her. “Yeah.”

He gives her a quick peck before tapping her thigh and guiding her off his lap. He looks at her as his thumb slips under the waistband of both his shorts and boxers, his glance expectant of some sort of approval or denial.

Her hands reach back behind her, unclasping the bra and letting the straps fall from her shoulders; to which he took that as his go ahead. Harry bucks his hips from the couch, tugging the clothing down his legs and letting it fall onto the floor. His cock slapped against his abdomen from the sheer force of how quickly he freed himself. It was bigger than she had expected, the head a pretty pink that glistened with precum.

He didn’t give her a chance to react for herself as he pulled along her bare waist, ushering YN back onto him. He planted kisses along her breast, the hem of her shorts sitting right against his chest, his large hands holding her inches above the cock she so desperate to fill herself up with.

His tongue encircled the bud of her nipple, one hand still gripping her ass to keep her pressed against his chest, above his length—while the other fell a tad lower, his index and middle finger slipping underneath the leg of her shorts and panties, brushing along her wet folds.

She could feel his lips spread into a smirk before he began to suck on her nipple. She buried her face into his curls, grasping onto the roots as his digits sat at the entrance of her core, heat radiating from her cunt as her arousal soaked the tips of his fingers. She whimpers, wanting to grind down on them and fill her up until his knuckles sat harshly against her folds, but he held her in place—the grip on the soft part of her ass feeling rougher. He looks up at her through his eyelashes, though her face is hidden in his hair, he still revels in it. “Y’that desperate for it, hm?”

She nods against the top of his head, eyes squeezing shut. “Yes, Harry.” She whined, fingers tightly laced between his locks. “Fuck–please, I need it.”

His mouth finds its way back to her tits as he eases his thick fingers into her cunt, tauntingly slow. Her walls fluttered around him, a soft moan escaping her as he pumped his fingers in and out, the sound of her wetness was hot, filthy—the way it bounced around the room. It only made him harder knowing that no one else will know what happened here besides them.

He curls his digits into a spot that makes her hips buck harder against his chest, a yelp emitting from the top of her throat, which he takes as a moment to smack the fleshy part of her ass, it wasn’t very hard, as if he was testing the waters to try to understand what she needed. Judging from the noises she made, and how her bum seemed to push a slight wiggle into the palm of his hand, he figured she liked it.

He pumps his fingers faster, his knuckles almost pounding against her core as he sneaks the opportunity to spank her again. A string of profanities and whiny pleas fell from her, her hands falling to a grip on his shoulders as he coaxed her to the brink of coming on just his fingers alone.

His lips are sloppy against her chest, more focused on how his digits buried themselves into her pussy. Her words aren’t coherent, a ringing faint in her ears as she tightens around him, her hips erupting into a shudder as she rides out her orgasm. He lightens the grip from her bum, allowing her to roll her hips with his fingers still deep inside her, basking in how she tried to milk herself of every drop she could.

Once her movements still, he slowly pulls out of her, the two making eye contact as he brings the two fingers to his mouth, wrapping his lips around them prettily, licking her arousal from the source.

Her breaths were heavy, eyes darkened as she watched the dirtiest thing play out in front of her. His eyes flutter to a close, a smirk speaking across his lips as if it was the most heavenly thing he’s tasted; she already feels the knot in her tummy tightening again.

She pulls him into a kiss, meeting each other harshly as she tastes herself from his lips. His hands brush along the small of her back, then to her hips, slipping the shorts and panties down her legs and off her ankles with an awkward, momentary shift in position to do so. She lowers herself as much as he’d allow, his lips stilling as he feels her heat against the head of his cock. He pulls away slightly, forehead against hers with a small flicker of disappointment on his features. “I don’t have a condom.” His voice low and raspy, thick with lust as he held her against him once again, unable to fill herself as she desired.

Her chest rose and fell heavily, eyes meeting his. “M’on the pill.” She whispered, voice breathy and light from her previous orgasm.

His eyebrows furrowed, gaze unwavering in hers. This is something he normally would never do, fucking someone unprotected. But the way his cock ached for her was damn near painful, and he trusted her. A friend he’d come to cherish, although in the back of his mind, he wanted her more than a friend. He darted his eyes between hers and the way her tummy fluttered with heavy breath. His glance was expectant again, silently needing approval to even think of continuing.

She wiggled her hips in his grasp once more, her a whiny plea a soft mutter—and it’s all he needed to hear. She sank onto his length, a slow strain befell them from how he had to ease his cock into her pussy, stretching her out with every upward motion of his hips.

The feeling of him filling her was addicting to both, pleasured sighs and moans emitting from each of them as she adjusted around his length, sinking down the shaft completely. Only a beat had past before she started to roll her hips into him, adjusting to the feeling of him. One hand sat sprawled against her back, will the other remained on her ass. Harry’s head leaned along the edge of the couch, watching through half-lidded eyes at the way her tits moved as she began to bounce on his length, having him draw sharp inhale at the feeling. “Jus’ like that.” He groaned, the hand on her back and bum guiding her movements. “Good girl–y’feel so good, jus–” He cuts off his own sentence with a moan, his head falling forward now, just a bit. His forehead grazed along her shoulder—barely—every time she’d bob up the length of his cock. “Like that, bunny–fuck.” His voice was breathy, listening to the pretty moans that escaped her and the way her cunt sounded riding his cock.

His hand slid down her back, both gripping her ass a bit roughy as he guided her movements with more force. Her lips fell agape, a whimper falling out now and then as Harry held her weight as if it was nothing, moving her up and down his thick cock with an ease that made her cry out his name.

He pushed and pulled her onto him greedily, her head falling onto his shoulder as he rested his chin on hers, watching as he pounded her onto the base of his length. The sharp sounds of skin against skin mixed in with their moans, a cacophony of their pleasure filling the lounge.

He loosened his grip from her bum, smacking her ass as his other hand gathered her hair into his fist, jerking her head back to force a semblance of eye contact. The palm of his other hand rested over her thigh, continuing to guide her movements though the momentum from her own hands against his shoulders was enough.

He knew he was close, and the way her noises got louder, how her cunt tightened around him—Harry knew she was close, too. The tiny fraction of him that held an ounce of logic through his drunken pleasure told him to pull out, but it fell to the back of his mind, silenced with the sound of his own moans and the way his length twitched, the knot in his belly rounding tightly. “Look at me.” He forced through a grunt, his toes curling against the carpet and his jaw tightened as he tried to stall his release.

The grip on his shoulders was lethal, though the only thing he could feel was her pussy fluttering around him. Her hair was still balled tightly in his fist, craning her head into a position where their foreheads were only a few inches away—the only thing that would keep her from looking if she closed her eyes. She wouldn’t though.

His hand pushed harder against her thigh, both of their skin flushed a pink from the force of the contact of the way her ass and thighs slapped along his pelvis. “Say my name–” His groan was guttural, as if he was teetering on the edge of losing his composure. With his grip still in her hair, he pressed her forehead into his, both slick with a gleam of sweat. “When you come—say it.” He grunted, eyes meeting hers once again. “Or I won’t let you.”

She felt her legs to tremble, her lips parting as the cries and whimpers of his name escaped her like a mantra. His chest rose and fell unevenly, pressing her forehead into hers further as they met their release simultaneously. Thick ropes of come fill her cunt to the point where it drips out around him. Their breaths are heavy and quick, his hands soft against the skin of her legs as they tremble, pressing his lips atop her shoulders as she sinks into his chest.

*

The next morning arrived in a hazy blur. The sky was gray as it prepared itself for a summer thunderstorm. The pitter-patter of rain hitting the window caused him to stir first, a wince from feeling the stiffness in his neck before anything else. His back was pressed awkwardly into the couch, his arm draped around something soft and warm. He blinked his eyes open, the dull light from the stormy sky offering not very much of anything as it bled through the blinds. The familiar scent of the studio mixed with something more intoxicating—YN.

He nudged his chin down to glance at the girl curled up on his chest, his shirt from last night adorning her frame as soft snores fell from her mouth. Their legs were tangled together underneath a thin throw blanket with Christmas patterns he didn’t remember grabbing before passing out. The events of last night came in a rushed haze from the smell of the champagne on his own breath. He shifted slightly, trying to get more comfortable, but the movement pulled YN from her slumber. She let out a small groan before nuzzling deeper into his bare chest, not wanting to let go of the warmth.

The smell of Harry’s cologne caused her eyes to peel open, her brow furrowing in confusion as she took in her surroundings.

“Morning.” Harry had rasped out, voice still thick with sleep.

She blinked, and then placed her palms against his chest to push herself up. She glanced around the studio with the turn of her head, then back at Harry with an unreadable expression. Her hair was disheveled, Harry’s discarded shirt hung loosely around her—she could feel the thickness of his come seeping out of her, pooling in her underwear and forming a dampened spot. “Oh my god.”

He winced involuntarily, and this time it wasn’t from the ache in his neck. “Um.” He paused, voice cautious. “Yeah.”

YN bit her lip, sitting up fully as she slipped into a spot between his thighs. The cushion was soft against her bum as she pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. “Yeah.” She echoed his words, unsure of what to say.

Harry had scoot up slightly, the small of his back against the arm of the sofa. He rubbed his neck, sighing from the crick he developed for sleeping in such an awkward position. “Are you okay?”

She looked at him, her eyes still a bit dazed from the remnants of sleep and the weight of their shared moment. YN offered him a small smile, “Mhm.” She hummed, but an uncertainty glimmered along the edge of her pupil, unsure of what came next. “Not exactly used to waking up like this, I guess–but I’m okay.”

He nodded slowly, though a frown threatened to spread across his lips. He reached out hesitantly, palm resting on her knee as he sighed. “You regret it?” He asked, though it sounded rhetorical.

Her face seemed to soften at his words, sincerity and a hint of hurt evident in his expression. A furrow formed in her forehead as she shook her head, placing a hand on top of the one he sat on her knee. “No, H. ‘Course not.” She paused, shifting in her seat before forcing herself to stand, his hand slipping from her knee back into his own lap. It felt cold, and he knew she was pulling away. She very quickly stripped Harry’s shirt off—to which he averted his eyes to the ground—shrugging back on her own hoodie and shorts.

“YN.” Harry mumbled, his voice shaking as he pulled his shirt back over his head. She seemed distracted, slipping her shoes back on and putting her phone into the hoodie pocket before she trailed back toward Harry, gazing down at where he sat on the couch. He had looked at her the way he always seemed to look at her, eyes full of things that would stay unsaid. “What does this mean?”

She kneeled before him almost immediately, combing her fingers through his hair in a moment of comfort. “Doesn’t have to mean anything.” Her voice was soft, kind, as if that was the thing he wanted to hear. “We’re friends, this won’t make it weird, okay?”

He could feel his heart sink into his stomach as he nodded with slight trepidation, wishing she would just open herself up and allow him to hold her, to show her that he wouldn’t let go. “I don’t regret it, never ever.” She murmured, ducking her head down a bit to meet his gaze that seemed to lower at her words. “I swear it.”

He forced a smile, her hand pulling away from his curls—the curls she previously moaned into, the hair that she tangled her fingers in from an orgasm that crashed over her like a wave. He swallowed dryly as she back stood up, still not looking away from him. A defeat settled over him, an impatient longing as he realized if he was ever going to have a chance with the woman before him, he’d have to wait. He didn’t know what pain she held, the things she guarded so strongly, but he knew she would have to admit to herself first that she was worthy of something good. Harry parted his lips, taking a deep breath to keep his voice steady. “Stay friends?” He asked expectantly, holding out a pinky to her.

She smiled, a sad one, however. She wanted to wrap him into her arms and apologize for making the choice to walk away, but she felt it was best. YN believed she wasn’t what he deserved, and it would be in his best interest to pretend like everything went back to normal. She lowered her hand, intertwining her pinky with his. “Stay friends.”

On August fourth, The studio was bathed in a soft, golden glow, the late afternoon sun filtering through the one window in the control room. Everyone, besides YN and Harry, went out for their lunch break. Harry had asked if she would help her tweak the soon-to-be third track on the album, Carolina.

Since waking up from the sex they had in the lounge, they hadn’t brought it up—though it didn’t disappear. There would be moments where it loomed over them, heavy and unrelenting. It took everything in them not to bridge that specific gap, took everything in Harry not to bend her over the soundboard to feel her again, took everything in him not to fall to his knees before her, hugging her legs while he cried about how he was helplessly falling for her.

It was the hottest day of the year, and though the air conditioner was humming in a low buzz, the air was thick with warmth. The kind of still, lingering heat that made everything feel slow and hazy, like time itself had paused for a moment. Harry picked up his guitar, fingers brushing over the strings, testing the familiar weight of it in his hands. The sound of the first strum seemed to melt into the air, easy, relaxed, as if the room itself was humming along to the rhythm.

She kneeled down, across from the spot Harry sat on the floor, guitar in lap. She pressed on certain strings on specific parts of the neck, eyes flickering between Harry and the instrument expectantly. They both knew the notes and the chords, the tone it could give. “Try those notes.”She murmured, moving Harry’s Hand from where it sat on the neck to where she wanted his fingers to be. Her touch was delicate, and if Harry didn’t reground himself he would’ve forgot what was happening all together. “Lean into the groove more?” Her words were laced with a light chuckle as she stood up, looking back down at the brunette on the floor. “Loosen up a bassline, could add some layered harmonies, something subtle, but it'll give the track more depth."

Harry's eyes lit up, a spark of excitement that always seemed to come alive when YN shared her thoughts. She had this uncanny way of making the most complex ideas sound simple. He nodded eagerly, strumming a few playful chords, the sound bouncing off the walls of the empty studio. "Yeah, that's it.” He whispered to himself excitedly, already hearing the song in his head. He began playing, the cords, melody bright and carefree, his fingers gliding effortlessly over the strings.

The atmosphere shifted almost instantly—no longer weighed down by deadlines or pressure, but filled with something light. Harry stood up without a word, the grin never leaving his face as he strummed the revisioned tune, the guitar hanging casually from his shoulder as he waltzed across the room, his voice bouncing with the light-hearted lyrics. The brunette’s footsteps were lazy, carefree, his long legs carrying him in wide, exaggerated circles as he moved with the rhythm, his laughter spilling out between the lyrics. It was easy—so easy—that the line between the song and the moment blurred.

“She’s a good girl.”

his voice bright and full of mischief as he twirled past her, catching her eye. He wiggled his eyebrows, a playful challenge, daring her to join in.

YN couldn’t help herself, he was infectious . She laughed, the sound so genuine and pure it filled the air. She pushed away from the soundboard, and before she could even think of hesitation, she was dancing and hopping around in time to the music, letting herself get lost along with him.

“Such a good girl”

She really was, like when he buried himself between her legs a few weeks ago.

The hem of her dainty sundress swept around her shins in a slow, lazy twirl. Her laughter mixed with the sound of the guitar, light and unguarded, like the weight of the world had lifted, just for this one moment.

Harry’s voice followed her as he floated around, his fingers never missing a beat. The melody was effortless, the chords bright and warm like the fading summer light that filled the room. His gaze flicked toward her every few seconds, catching the way she moved, her arms outstretched as she spun in gentle circles, her hair catching the golden light in soft waves.

The whole scene felt like something out of time, like they had stepped into an old, grainy film reel—faded sun, carefree laughter, and the kind of simplicity that made everything else fade into the background. There was no rush, no pressure, just the music and the way they moved through it together.

Harry kept playing, his voice growing louder, more animated, as he circled back to her, his laughter echoing in the small space. He swayed, leaning into the guitar as he strummed, almost tripping over a cable but catching himself at the last second with a dramatic flourish. YN continued her movements, her arms floating through the air, soft and unhurried, like she was dancing with the music itself.

And then, in one smooth motion, Harry waltzed closer, standing just a few feet away from her as he played the final chorus. His smile was wide, eyes bright with the joy of the moment, and YN met his gaze with the same carefree energy, spinning one last time before she collapsed against the stool, breathless from her giggles.

The last chord hung in the air for a moment longer, lingering like the final rays of sunlight spilling through the window. The room was still humming with the energy they’d created, the echoes of their laughter and the bright notes of the guitar lingering in the walls. Harry let the guitar slide gently to his side, leaning against the stool as he caught his breath, his chest rising and falling in time with YN’s, her face flushed and glowing. He was grinning, the kind of grin that reached his eyes and made his dimples crater.

For a second, everything felt perfect, untouched by the noise of the outside world. It was just the two of them, the fading summer light, and the echo of a song that hadn’t yet been recorded but already felt like it was carved into their shared memory.

All he wanted to do was kiss her again.

She was perched on her chair now, her legs crossed, still smiling from their little impromptu dance. She glowed with the warmth of the sun filtering in through the window. The carefree, playful energy between them began to settle, but the air didn’t lose its charge. Instead, something softer slipped into the space between them, a kind of comfortable quiet as they both let the last traces of laughter fade away.

Harry wiped a hand across his forehead, pushing back a few stray curls as he looked over at her, the easy grin still tugging at his lips. The guitar rested against his knee as he sat down, but he didn’t play, didn’t move. He was just watching her now, the way her fingers traced absentminded circles on the edge of the stool, the way her gaze was still bright with that unguarded laughter. It was rare to see her like this—unguarded, fully present—and Harry found himself caught in the moment, not wanting it to end.

Just as that night in July, when we pulled her into her chest to sleep for the night—when it felt like he could call her his as he wrapped his arms around her, basking in their afterglow.

YN let out a soft sigh, the last of her breathless laughter leaving her, and when she looked at him, her expression shifted. Something quieter, more serious. The playful glint in her eyes softened into something almost reverent, like she was seeing him—really seeing him.

“You know, Harry.” She smiled, her voice gentle but firm, like she was about to say something important. “This album–” There was a pause as she exhaled through her nose, but it was light from her enthused realization. “It’s going to go down as a classic. It’s real. You’re real. Your talent, the rawness of it—it’s something people won’t forget.”

The words landed between them like a weight, soft but undeniable. Harry felt his heart skip, his smile faltering just slightly as her words settled in. He’d heard compliments before—so many, often thrown around casually—but this… this was different. The sincerity in her voice, the way her eyes held his, unflinching, unwavering, as if she wasn’t just saying something kind, but something true.

For a moment, the room seemed to shift around him. It was like the air grew thicker, the light softer, the world quieter. He felt exposed, in a way he hadn’t expected, like her words had peeled back a layer he’d been hiding under, a layer he hadn’t even realized was there. The compliment wasn’t just about the music, wasn’t just about the work they’d been doing. It felt personal, like she saw him—not the version of him the world saw, not Harry, the soloist, but him, Harry. The guy trying to figure it all out, pouring every piece of himself into this album, hoping that it would matter.

He swallowed, his throat suddenly tight, and for a second, he wasn’t sure what to say.

He thought about telling her thank you.

He thought about remaining speechless.

No one had told him something like that in a long time—not like this, not with this kind of weight. He could feel his chest tightening, his pulse thrumming a little too fast, the gravity of her words sinking deeper than he thought they would.

He thought about her words.

He thought about her.

“YN, I—” He started to speak, but the words caught in his throat. He looked at her, really looked at her, and for the first time, he wondered if maybe she understood him more than he’d ever realized. Maybe that was why her words felt so heavy, why they struck him in a way nothing else had. Because they came from her.

He thought about how much he wanted to say he was starting to fall in love with her.

But before he could say anything else, the door to the studio swung open with a loud creak, breaking the moment like a pebble dropped into still water. The team was back, their voices filling the room as they filed in, the soft hum of conversation and the shuffle of papers cutting through the silence that had wrapped around him and YN.

“Alright, alright, back to it.” Jeff chuckled, ever the dad friend, clapping his hands as he made his way toward the control board. The mood shifted, the studio returning to its usual buzz of activity, the easy rhythm of work settling back into place.

Harry blinked, the spell of the moment breaking as he straightened up, shaking off the sudden heaviness in his chest. YN gave him a small, knowing smile, her eyes still holding a trace of the warmth from before, but she didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to. She’d already said what mattered.

She knew the look in Harry’s eye.

She had thought about how much she missed him.

She thought about how much that scared her.

With a soft sigh, Harry adjusted the guitar on his lap, nodding as the team gathered around, discussing admin details, technical tweaks, and publicity strategies for the album’s release. The room was buzzing again, the easy laughter and lightness of earlier replaced with the steady hum of work. But Harry’s mind was still lingering on what YN had said, the quiet sincerity of her words looping in the back of his mind.

As the evening stretched on, the work became more mechanical—emails, calls, planning—but Harry’s thoughts kept drifting back to her. He couldn’t shake the way she drifted around the room earlier, like a dandelion wisp dancing in the wind. How her laugh sounded so pretty he wanted to put it in a song. How real it had felt when she’d looked at him and told him what his music would become. It was a compliment, sure, but it was more than that. It was a belief. And for the first time in a long while, Harry felt like someone saw him exactly as he was, and believed in him all the same.

That day at the studio soon began to draw to a close, the golden light from earlier now softening into deep ambers and long shadows. The room, once buzzing with activity, had fallen into a more relaxed rhythm as the team packed up their things, saying their goodbyes with tired but satisfied smiles. The project was moving, inching closer to the finish line.

Harry leaned back, watching from the corner of the room as the last of the crew made their way to the door. The sounds of zippers closing and bags being slung over shoulders filled the space, each member of the team calling out their see-you-laters, their voices fading as they spilled out into the hallway. One by one, they disappeared, until the door swung shut with a final, quiet click, leaving just Harry and YN behind.

The silence settled in slowly, wrapping itself around the room like a warm, familiar blanket. It was the kind of silence that felt more like a presence than an absence, thick and heavy with something unspoken. Harry ran his fingers over the neck of his guitar one last time before placing it back on its stand, the metal strings catching the fading light. His movements were slow, almost deliberate, like he was trying to hold on to the quiet a little longer.

He glanced over his shoulder, noticing that YN was still at the small table near the edge of the room, shuffling her things about. She was moving slower than usual, her hands hovering over her notebook, lingering on the scattered papers like she wasn’t quite ready to leave. Harry chuckled softly, the sound breaking the stillness.

“Need help with all that?” he asked, his voice airy, teasing in a way that felt natural between them.

But YN didn’t respond right away. She kept her eyes down, focused on her things, but her movements were stiffer now, less fluid. There was something different in the way she stood there, something quiet but undeniably present—an undercurrent of tension Harry couldn’t quite place. He felt the air shift, that familiar warmth between them suddenly giving way to something more solemn, more guarded.

“YN?” Harry asked, his voice softer now, his smile fading as he stepped toward her. “Everything alright?”

She looked up then, her eyes catching his for the briefest moment before she quickly glanced away again, like she couldn’t hold the gaze for too long. Her expression was calm, but there was a tightness in her jaw, something held back, something she wasn’t sure how to say. She let out a soft sigh, the weight of whatever was on her mind finally beginning to show.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you.” She started, her voice low and measured, like she was carefully choosing each word. “August thirty-first.” She bit the inside of her lip momentarily. “It’ll be my last day here. My internship—it’s ending.”

The words landed between them like a quiet echo, reverberating in the space left behind by the day’s fading energy. Harry felt the weight of them settle in his chest, heavier than he had expected. He knew the internship wouldn’t last forever—of course, he’d known that—but hearing it out loud, hearing it from her, made it feel real in a way he hadn’t prepared for.

For a moment, Harry didn’t say anything. He just stood there, staring at her, trying to make sense of the sudden tightness in his throat. It felt like the air had been knocked out of him, but he didn’t quite understand why. She was still there, right in front of him, but the idea of her leaving, of this chapter ending, hit him harder than he thought it would.

“Your last day.” He repeated quietly, more to himself than to her, his brows knitting together slightly.

YN nodded, but she didn’t look at him. She busied herself with the papers in her hands, though it was clear she wasn’t really doing anything—just moving things around to avoid the heaviness of the conversation. The atmosphere had changed, charged with an unsaid emotion. It reminded Harry of the way people talk about those long, hot August nights, the kind where the sky is still bright at 9pm, but you can feel autumn creeping in around the edges, making the warmth feel both infinite and fleeting.

Harry ran a hand through his hair, letting out a quiet breath as he leaned against the control board. He wasn’t sure what to say.

Part of him wondered if it was because of the sex. A part of him wanted to ask her to stay, to find some reason to keep her there, keep things as they were. But he knew he couldn’t. That wasn’t the way the world worked, no matter how much you wanted to freeze a moment in time.

“How come?” He finally asked, his voice quieter now, softer in a way that mirrored the dimming light of the room.

YN shrugged slightly, her shoulders barely moving. “I’ve known for a bit. It’s temporary, only a summer internship.”

Harry nodded, understanding, though the weight in his chest hadn’t eased. It was hard for him, realizing that after all the late nights, the music, the moments shared, things would change. And YN—who had always kept that quiet distance, who never let anyone too close—wasn’t just leaving the studio. She was leaving him, even if she didn’t mean it that way.

The room felt smaller now, the silence between them growing heavier with every passing second. Harry looked down at his hands, tracing the worn edges of the soundboard with his thumb, searching for something to say that wouldn’t feel like an end.

“I’ll miss you.” He admitted solemnly, the words simple, but honest. They hung in the air like a truth too big for him to admit, they hung in the air like three words she wouldn’t have believed if he said it.

YN smiled then, a small, bittersweet smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. She still looked guarded, her walls firmly in place, but there was something soft in the way she glanced up at him, like maybe she felt it too—the finality of the moment they were both trying to avoid.

“I’ll miss you, too.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

And for a brief, fragile second, it was just them again, standing in the soft glow of the studio lights, the world outside forgotten. The weight of time, of change, of things left unsaid—all of it hung between them, heavy but delicate, like a glass teetering on the edge of a table.

Harry opened his mouth, wanting to say more, to ask her something, anything to keep her there a little longer. But before he could find the words, the moment slipped away, the weight of reality settling back in as YN turned away, gathering the last of her things.

The light from the hallway spilled into the room as she reached for the door, casting a long shadow across the studio floor. Harry watched as she stepped toward it, his heart heavy with the knowledge that everything was about to change, whether he was ready for it or not.

YN hesitated in the hallway, every nerve in her body begging her to leave. Her heart sat heavy in her chest, tongue in cheek as she turned back around, opening the door back up with trembling fingers. She stood in the doorway, cracked enough for her frame to linger. A stripe of the nauseating white light of the hallway waned over him and he remained in the same place she had left him moments ago. “Harry.” She muttered, her voice low, almost weary. There was something in the way she said his name, something different—like maybe she wanted to say more but didn’t know how to.

He perked up, his tummy doing flips. The pearly glow behind her made her seem ethereal—angelic. “Yeah?” His tone gentle but searching, like he was trying to pull something unspoken out of the quiet between them.

She looked at him then, fully, her eyes catching the last remnants of the dim light in the studio. For a moment, the guardedness slipped, just a fraction, and Harry could see something underneath—something vulnerable, something that felt a little like goodbye.

“I’m really glad I got to work with you.” YN’s voice was delicate, her words carrying a weight that made it threaten to crack. “This–this has been more than I ever could’ve asked for.”

She was referring to more than just the music and the internship.

Harry swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. He didn’t know what to say to that—didn’t know how to tell her that she wasn’t just some random, throwaway intern to him, that these past few months had meant more than just music and late-night studio sessions. She had become a part of his world in a way he hadn’t anticipated, and now that she was leaving, it felt like something vital was being pulled away, leaving him standing on unsteady ground.

“Me too.” He confessed, though he could’ve said more. Harry’s voice was quieter than he intended, his hand running over his face from a feeling he couldn’t admit.

The words hung in the air, soft but honest. YN had seen parts of him that few people did—had understood his music, his vulnerabilities, in a way that made him feel seen. And now, the thought of her not being there—of her walking out that door and leaving all of this behind—made him feel strangely untethered.

YN’s lips curved into a small, almost wistful smile. She looked down at her shoes for a moment, the tip of her sneaker nudging a stray cable on the floor. “I didn’t mean to stay so late.” A weak attempt at lightening the moment. But her eyes betrayed her, the flicker of something deeper still lingering behind her words.

Harry took a step closer, closing the distance between them just slightly. “You know.”Harry mumbled, his tone lighter now, though the heaviness between them still lingered. “This feels a lot like a goodbye when y’have a few weeks still.”

YN glanced up at him, her smile fading into something more thoughtful. “Yeah, I guess we do.” She let out a breathy chuckle, though her voice sounded distant, like she was already somewhere else in her mind.

Silence settled between them again, thicker this time, like the room itself was holding its breath. Harry wanted to say more—wanted to ask her what came next for her, wanted to tell her that maybe things didn’t have to end here—tell her to stay. But he didn’t. The words caught in his throat, tangled up with all the emotions he wasn’t sure how to name.

After a moment, YN shifted her bag on her shoulder and let out a soft breath. “I should get going.” She sighed, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s late.”

Harry nodded, but his chest felt heavy, like he didn’t want her to leave just yet. “Yeah. Right. Let me know you got home okay.”

YN’s smile was small, almost bittersweet. She began to turn in the doorway, her movements slow, like the action of leaving pained her. He sent her a small wave as she gave him one last glance, the door softly clicking shut behind her.

The summer had begun to slip away quietly, the August sun sitting lower in the sky at earlier hours. The air was different that day—thicker, heavier with the weight of something ending. There was a finality to the way the light filtered through the studio’s window, soft and hazy, like the last days of vacation in an old photograph. Everything felt suspended, as though the world was holding its breath, waiting for the inevitable.

Harry had known this day was coming. He’d tried not to think about it, tried to focus on the album, on the music, on the thousand little tasks that came with putting it all together. But today was different. No matter how much he had tried to push it out of his mind, the date had circled back around, staring him in the face.

August thirty-first.

YN’s last day.

He arrived at the studio earlier than usual, the streets outside still quiet, the early morning light pale and soft against the burning. The usual buzz of excitement—the thrill of working on his debut album—was muted, overshadowed by the knowledge that by the end of the day, YN would be gone.

As he set his guitar in the corner of the room, he caught sight of her out of the corner of his eye. She was already there, sitting at her usual spot by the control board, her notebook open in front of her, a pen poised between her fingers. She was focused, scribbling something down, but her movements were slower, more deliberate today. Harry could tell. She knew it too.

The room was quieter than usual, the hum of the equipment the only sound as he walked over to her. The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable, but it wasn’t easy either. It felt like there were a hundred things left unsaid, hanging in the air between them, waiting to be acknowledged. But neither of them said anything. Not yet.

“Morning.” Harry said softly, settling down into his chair across from her. He didn’t dare to greet her with good morning, because it really wasn’t. Not today. He didn’t know when it would be again.

“Morning.” She murmured, voice almost resigned, not looking up from her notebook. She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes, and Harry felt his chest tighten.

They spent the morning working in the usual rhythm, going over the last details of the album. It should have been a day like any other, but there was a tension under the surface, something neither of them could quite shake. Every moment felt like it was leading up to something, like the end was creeping closer with each passing minute.

By the time the afternoon rolled around, the studio had filled with the usual buzz of people—producers, assistants, technicians—all busy, all focused. But Harry’s mind was somewhere else. He kept glancing over at YN, watching the way she moved around the studio, the way she interacted with everyone, like it was just another day. But he could see it in the way she lingered on certain tasks, the way her eyes scanned the room as if she was memorizing it.

It was nearing the end of the day when the rest of the team began wrapping up, gathering their things, making plans for the next session. The sun had begun to dip lower in the sky, casting the room in that soft, golden light that made everything feel both beautiful and bittersweet. Harry watched as the others said their goodbyes to YN, one by one, thanking her for her work, telling her to stay in touch. She smiled, gracious as ever, but there was a faraway look in her eyes, as if she were already one foot out the door.

And then, it was just the two of them.

The door clicked shut behind the last person, and suddenly the room felt much bigger, the space between them much quieter. Harry stood by the window, his hands in his pockets, watching the light fade as the day slipped into evening. YN was still by the control board, slowly packing up her things—her notebook, her pens, the little scraps of paper she’d scribbled ideas on over the past few months. Her movements were slow, deliberate, holding onto to the moment just a little longer.

Harry turned to face her, his pulse thrumming a little too fast. He wasn’t sure what to say. He hadn’t prepared for this moment, not really. He had spent the last few weeks trying to avoid thinking about it, but now, standing there in the dimming light, he realized he still didn’t want her to leave.

“Are you all set?” He asked quietly, his voice sounding too casual for how much dread he felt inside.

YN glanced up, her eyes meeting his for the first time all day. There was a flicker of something there—something that matched the weight in his chest—but she quickly looked away, zipping up her bag with a small nod.

“I guess so.” She forced a smile, standing up from her chair. “I think that’s everything.”

The silence that followed felt as if nails scratched an old chalkboard, stretching out between them like a line drawn in the sand. Harry took a slow breath, trying to steady himself, trying to find the words he hadn’t been able to say all day. He watched as she slung her bag over her shoulder, her fingers brushing lightly over the edge of the soundboard one last time, like she was saying goodbye to something bigger than just the room.

Harry wanted to ask her to stay, wanted to tell her that things didn’t have to end here—that maybe, just maybe, there was more for them beyond this room, beyond this summer. But he couldn’t. He knew her too well by now, knew that she had already made up her mind.

“I guess this is goodbye then.” She frowned, eyes glasses over.

His stomach lurched. She had his number, of course, but Harry didn’t know if she would keep in contact. He didn’t know she would erase the summer from her mind to ease her heart. Harry swallowed hard, the lump in his throat causing him to wince. “Goodbye, YN.”

For a long moment, neither of them moved. The room was bathed in the last traces of sunshine, everything feeling suspended in time. And then, slowly, YN stepped toward the door, her fingers brushing the handle. She paused, glancing back at him one last time, her expression unreadable.

And he caught himself. The all too familiar lump in his throat at a dull ache, the tip of his nose tickling as he felt tears well up. His feet moved faster than he could think, just a blink of time, and his hand was wrapped around her forearm, pulling YN away from the door. “That’s it?” He asked, his cheeks flushing red and his voice cracked. “That’s all?”

She frowned, her nostrils flaring as she willed away her tears. She adjusted the tote on her shoulder, averting her gaze from Harry to the wall behind him.

“Stay.” He pleaded, she only shook her head.

Stray tears fell from his eyes, heartbroken. “I can have them extend your internship, or something—please.”

Her eyes met his again, stomach twisting at his tears. “Harry that’s a hand out.” She muttered, sighing with a sadness she tried to push away. “I have to move forward.”

He sniffled, lighting placing his hand on her cheek as he brought her into a kiss. His tears made his lips wet, nose too stuffy to breathe through it—but he didn’t care. He figured this was goodbye, for a while.

Her lips were stilled against his until she melted into it, but it was fleeting. She placed her hand upon the one he had on her cheek, removing it as she pulled her face away. She intertwined her fingers with his, placing a few soft kisses to his knuckles.

He only stood there, lips quivering with tears that were unable to stop. As she began to loosen the grip on his hand, putting his arm back to his side, an audible cry left his mouth. It wasn’t loud, barely above a whisper, but it was there. “Y’pinky promised me.” He shook his head, “That we would stay friends.” He took a deep breath, wiping away some of his tears. “But I know you’re gonna disappear on me.”

This time she let her tears fall, taking a step away—the guilt was allconsiming. “Take care of yourself, H.”

And just like that, she was gone as quick as she came.

But that was two months ago, and Harry was right—she barely kept in contact with him. He tried not to take it personally for a while, seeing as she didn’t update her socials as much either. She disappeared just like a snuffed out flickered flame of a candle.

She would respond occasionally, curious to know if he was okay, how the album was going. It was always fine.

Fine, fine, fine.

But he wasn’t fine, it wasn’t fine. He missed her, Harry felt that she broke their promise. And he wanted to be angry, to block her from his mind, but he couldn’t.

He was planning to fly to LA to finish the rest of the album in late September, but couldn’t do it. He remained in New York, not ready to let go of the many things created in that studio.

It was two in the morning as he stared at the bright glare of his phone, the recently sent attachment of the final cut of Carolina staying the dismal state of delivered.

He knew she had her read receipts on, which is why he didn’t swipe away from their messages—heart thudding against his chest as he waited to see if status would ever change to read.

Of course, undeniably so, the song was about another girl. But now it felt like a contradictory, because the only thing he thought about when listening to it was YN.

He knew now that he loved her, that he was in love with her the minute she sent her nod of approval for the From the Dining Table recording.

He was a walking joke to the saying of, she fell first, he fell harder—because he fell first, and then fell even harder.

Harry groaned, shutting his phone off and letting it slip into his lap as he leaned back onto the bed. The heel of his palm sat against his eyes, the pressure allowing for the kaleidoscope of colors and patterns to play on the inside of his eyelids.

He wondered if slamming his head against the wall would feel better than the ache of heartbreak.

However, he didn’t want to test that theory out. He’ll let it remain as a hypothesis for now.

His hands brushed down to his sides, his vision fading back to normal as he stared at the ceiling. He wanted to see if he could go to sleep, maybe even watch a movie—but his phone vibrated against his thigh and he swore the world stopped spinning on its axis for a beat.

He hesitated to look, if it was another weather notification he would probably lose his mind.

But he sat up anyway, grimacing as he clicked the power button, dreading the possible sight of the familiar blue icon.

Yn: everything i imagined it to be and more

Yn: forever proud of you harry styles

His shoulders faltered, a frown settling upon his lips.

h: I miss you.

YN stared at the message, lips parted. She still sat on the bathroom counter where she had been for the last ten minutes, smooshed close to the mirror in attempt to shape her eyebrows.

But as soon as she saw the song attachment pop up three minutes ago, the tweezers remained in its clattered state in the sink.

When the song emitted from her phone she couldn’t help but smile, she swear she could’ve floated. And then she cried.

h: I have 2 more songs to finalize before we send it through to be released next year.

h: Miss picking your brain.

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, a pause in her breath. She wasn’t sure what to say. Part of her wanted to respond right away, to fill the silence with words, to close the gap between them that had grown wider with every passing day since she left. But the other part of her—the part that had been protecting her heart all these months—wanted to stay distant, to keep things as they were, safely tucked away in the past.

YN sighed, running a hand through her hair as she glanced at herself in the mirror. She barely recognized the woman staring back at her. The one who had walked out of the studio with a heavy heart and the quiet resolve to move forward, to start anew. But that resolve was wavering now, and Harry’s words were making it impossible to ignore the ache she’d been trying to avoid.

Her phone buzzed again. Another message.

h: Still time to come back, you know. We could finish the album together.

Her heart clenched at the invitation. She could picture him, sitting in the dim light of his apartment, maybe lying in bed, the soft glow of his phone the only thing lighting up his face. She imagined the look in his eyes as he typed the words, that same softness she had seen in him so many times before—when they worked late into the night, when he caught her staring too long, when he let his guard down just enough for her to see the vulnerability underneath.

But she had walked away for a reason. She knew what it would do to her—how easy it would be to fall back into the rhythm of working with Harry, of getting lost in his music, in him. And she wasn’t sure she was ready for that. She wasn’t sure if she could handle the intensity of what lingered between them, the unspoken connection that had grown stronger with every conversation, every glance, every laugh shared.

She didn’t know if she wanted to take the risk to be left again.

h: Please. Just think about it.

Her fingers trembled as she typed, mouth ran dry. She didn’t know what to say, but she knew she couldn’t leave him hanging.

Yn: i’ll think about it

It was short, maybe too short, but it was all she could offer in that moment. She stared at the message for a long time before hitting send, her stomach twisting with the uncertainty of what came next.

On the other end, Harry stared at his phone, his heart sinking as he read her reply. It wasn’t a yes, but it wasn’t a no either. It was something in between, something that left him in limbo, waiting for an answer he wasn’t sure would ever come.

He sat there in the silence of his apartment, the city outside moving on as it always did. He wanted to see her again, wanted to finish what they’d started, not just with the music, but with whatever had been building between them all those months. But he knew he couldn’t push her. YN was careful, guarded, and he had learned that the hard way. She had her reasons for keeping her distance, reasons she had never fully shared with him.

But still, he hoped. Hoped that maybe, just maybe, she’d come back. That maybe, for once, she’d take a chance.

And so he waited, the phone resting in his lap, the weight of the unsaid words heavy in the room around him.

The days passed slowly after that, each one blending into the next as Harry focused on finishing the album. He threw himself into the work, pouring all of his energy into the final tracks, refining the sound, changing some lyrics, adding new elements.

But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing. The songs were good—great, even—but without YN’s input, without her presence in the studio, it all felt a little hollow. He missed her—missed her laugh, missed the way she’d furrow her brow when she was deep in thought, missed the way she made him feel like he didn’t have to be Harry Styles all the time. With her, he was just Harry. And that was enough.

He loved her.

He hadn’t heard from her since that night. No messages, no calls. It was like she had disappeared all over again, slipping out of his life as quietly as she had entered it.

It was November sixteenth when his phone buzzed again, a message lighting up the screen. The sky was dull, a harsh breeze whipping around the branches of trees—gearing up for a downpour. His heart raced as he saw her name, his fingers fumbling to unlock the phone.

Yn: you’re in ny still?

Harry’s breath caught in his throat. He hadn’t expected to hear from her again, not after weeks of silence.

h: Still here. Why?

There was a long pause before her next message came through.

Yn: i’ve been thinking about you

It was as if the system his body needed to stay alive had paused, his mind racing with possibilities. He couldn’t believe it—after all this time, she was finally considering it.

h: If you ever feel ready, I’m right where you left me.

Another pause.

Yn: it was ever just about the album h

Her message hit him like a punch to the chest, the weight of it settling in slowly. He had known—of course, he had known—but seeing it there, written out in front of him, made it all the more real.

Harry stared at the message for a long time, his fingers hovering over the keyboard as he tried to find the right words. But what could he say? He felt the same way, had felt it for months, but he hadn’t known how to tell her.

He attempted to, the day she left, cried even. But she walked away before he had the chance to continue.

h: I know.

It was simple, but it was true. He did know. He had known all along.

Yn: are you still recording at the same studio?

Harry’s heart leapt at her words, a surge of hope flooding through him.

h: Yeah, actually here right now. Brainstorming by myself for a bit.

Yn: buzz me in. i’m outside

Harry blinked, rereading the message a few times, the tips of his fingers all pins and needles

Outside.

She was there—outside, in the cold, waiting. Without thinking, he shot out of his chair, the legs scraping the studio floor with a harsh screech. His phone almost slipped from his hand as he fumbled to send her a quick reply. His movements were so frantic he had forgotten to press send.

He grabbed his jacket, threw it over his shoulders, and bolted for the door, his mind racing. She was here.

He wondered if he should slow down, would it be weird to greet her breathless at the door?

He rolled his eyes at himself. stop overthinking.

The hallway lights flickered slightly as he made his way down the corridor, his steps fast. He wasn’t sure what he would say, wasn’t sure what she would say, but none of that mattered. All he knew was that she was here, and that was enough for him right now.

When he finally reached the front entrance, he paused for a moment, his hand hovering over the buzzer. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the rush of emotions bubbling inside him. There was a weight to this moment—something bigger than just a simple reunion. He could feel it, like the air had thickened with all the unsaid words between them.

He pressed the button.

A soft buzz echoed through the small space, followed by the familiar click of the door unlocking. Harry pulled it open, stepping out into the crisp November air. The wind whipped around him, biting at his skin, but it didn’t matter because there she was.

YN stood a few feet away, her hands tucked into the pockets of her coat, her hair tousled by the wind. Her face was partially shadowed in the dingy light from the streetlamps, but he could still see her eyes—those same eyes that had watched him in the studio all those months ago, the ones that saw more than most people ever did.

The eyes of a girl he fell so pathetically in love with.

They stood there for a moment, staring at each other in the cold, neither of them moving. It was like time had paused again, just as it had so many times before when they were alone in the studio, surrounded by music but drowning in something deeper. Harry’s breath caught in his throat, unsure how to break the silence.

Finally, YN spoke, her voice quiet but steady, cheeks flushed from both her deepening blush and the cold. “Hi, Harry.”

The sound of her voice hit him like a wave, familiar and comforting, and all the tension he’d been holding onto seemed to unravel at once. He let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding and smiled, though his heart was still racing. “Hi.”

It was such a simple exchange, but it felt like everything. For weeks, Harry had been caught in this strange limbo, not knowing if he’d see her again, not knowing if the distance between them was permanent. But here she was, standing right in front of him, and for the first time in a long time, he felt like things were finally shifting.

“It’s cold.” His voice is light, jutting his chin ever so slightly to the outside that existed around them. “Come in, please.”He felt unsure of how much to say, how much to push.

YN hesitated for a moment, her gaze flickering toward the door behind him. She shifted on her feet, the wind catching the ends of her coat and lifting it slightly. For a second, Harry thought she might say no, that maybe she was having second thoughts. But then, she gave him a small nod, a barely-there smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

Harry held the door open as she walked past him, the familiar warmth of the studio wrapping around them both as they stepped inside. It was quiet—just the two of them now, the usual noise of the team gone for the night. He led her down the hallway toward the control room, the sound of his heartbeat in his ears, thoughts spinning with everything he wanted to say but couldn’t quite figure out how to.

When they reached the room, Harry gestured toward the seat she’d always occupied—the one by the soundboard where she’d spent so many hours offering ideas, tweaking lyrics, helping him make a few songs what they were. YN paused for a second before sitting down, her hands resting in her lap as she glanced around the room.

“It feels the same.” Her laugh was breathy, a sadness to it. Her eyes lingered on the equipment, the scattered notes, the half-empty coffee cups that still littered the space. “Like nothing’s changed.”

Harry sat down across from her, his fingers brushing absently against the neck of the guitar that leaned against the chair. “Not much has.” He admitted, his voice quiet. “Except for you not being here.”

She looked at him then, searching his face, and Harry felt that familiar pull—the one that had always drawn him to her, even when she’d kept herself at arm’s length. There was something in her gaze, something heavy with unsaid words, and he wondered if she could feel it too.

A beat had passed. “I missed this, she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I missed you, H.

His cheeks felt hot, the words landing between them like a confession. He swallowed, his chest tightening with the weight of everything he wanted to say in return.

“I missed you too.”Harry murmured, the truth of it echoing in every syllable. And for the first time in months, the silence between them didn’t feel so heavy. It felt like maybe, just maybe, things were starting to fall back into place. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.

She shifted on her feet, eyes falling to the floor. “I’m sorry.” Her voice was sincere, dripping with the guilt she’s battled for months. “I’m sorry for leaving you. I needed to take some time, figure things out.”

He nodded, hands shoved into the pockets of his sweatpants. He would’ve tried to look better if he knew he’d be seeing her today. “It hurt.”

She pulled her lips between her teeth, eyes glossed over as she nodded. She had to look away, not able to face him. She knew she had done to him the same thing she was so afraid of—she just left. It gutted her for a while, wanting to reach out and apologize. She had this anxious feeling he wouldn’t forgive her. Rightfully so.

But it’s Harry.

He ran his hand down his face, a swirl of emotions becoming a cyclone within him. He frowned, seeing how spaced she was—as if she wasn’t here. “You need to tell me what’s on your mind.”

His tone was a bit more straightforward than he originally intended, but it was the truth. She showed up asking to be buzzed in, he felt as if he shouldn’t be the one digging.

She shook her head, trying to blink away some of her tears. “Guilt, sorrow, you.”

He nodded, looking at her expectantly to finish. He wished she could say her feelings as fast as she could walk away from them, but she was trying at least, and it felt like a start.

She inhaled shakily, running her fingers through her hair as her lip continued to tremble. “Guilt for leaving you the same what I feared being left.” Her voice had a tremor, her breaths a bit quicker. “Guilt for not saying sorry sooner. The pain of missing you—.” She whimpered, the same as Harry did the day she left.

“The guilt and sorrow will fade.” Harry murmured, his heart aching at the sight of her tears. “Y’just to work through it, don’t ignore it.”

YN wiped her cheeks, fingers shaking as she tried to regulate her breathing.. “And you?” Her voice was small, fragile, afraid of the answer.

He furrowed his eyebrows, “Me?”

“Have I lost you?”

He frowned, the words caught in his throat. The question felt like it knocked the air from his lungs, and for a moment he didn’t know how to respond. The silence stretched between them, unbearable. He let his shoulders falter, “I love you, YN.”

The words hung between them, raw and unfiltered. It was stripped of all pretense, just the truth he carried with him for months. He watched her for any sort of reaction, and she just kind of stood there. He wondered for a moment if he even said anything, if it was just loud in his head but he actually had just left her hanging. “I love you.” He repeated, just in case.

"I–” She tried to speak, but her voice cracked.

She swallowed hard, tears still clinging to her lashes as she searched his face. The pain, the guilt, the regret—it was all still there, but beneath it, there was something else, something softer. Something she had kept hidden for so long, she wasn't sure how to let it out. “You do?”

He nodded, remaining vulnerable. He had no clue if she would reciprocate, or if she’d just walk away if met with the familiar fear. “Think I always have.”

For the first time, it didn't feel like there was a barrier. It felt like something was breaking, something that had been keeping them apart for far too long.

Without thinking, she reached for him, her fingers brushing against his arm, tentative at first, but then firmer as she closed the distance between them. He didn't hesitate. He stepped forward, wrapping his arms around her, pulling her close. She melted into him, her face pressed against his chest as the tears flowed freely now, the weight of months of separation, guilt, and pain finally slipping away.

Harry held her tightly, his chin resting on top of her head, breathing in the scent of her hair, the warmth of her body against his. This was what he had been missing—this. Not just the music, not just the friendship. It was her. All of her.

"I love you," he whispered again, the words soft and full of promise. "I’m here."

It was them, just them—like she’d never left.

[ruewrote]

𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑒.

PAIRING: josh washington x fem!reader WARNINGS: teasing, no use of y/n, touching GENRE: fluff SONG INSPIRATION: meddle about by chase atlantic WORD COUNT: 1k NOTE: ghostface!josh coming soon . . .

navigation | ask | josh washington masterlist

josh always had to be touching you. it was something you noticed early on in your friendship, but it had grown more noticeable over time. a casual brush of his fingers across your waist when he walked by, how his hand would find yours when no one was looking.

at first, you didn’t think much of it, it was just josh, always needing someone close. 

but now? now it felt like more.

tonight, the group had gathered in the theater room of the washington lodge for what was supposed to be a relaxing evening after a long day of hiking.

the lights were dim and you were sprawled out on the large sectional with everyone, blankets thrown over legs, as a movie played on the tv. josh, predictably, had taken his usual place next to you, his thigh pressed against yours under the blanket, his hand resting on your knee like always.

it wasn’t like he was doing anything that anyone else would notice, it was subtle, almost innocent. but you felt it. the warmth of his hand on your leg sent tingles up your spine and it was almost impossible to ignore the way your heart beat just a little faster when he touched you.

"you two are practically glued together," emily teased from across the couch, smirking as she sipped her drink. "it’s cute. you can’t stand to be apart for five seconds?"

josh, unfazed as ever, grinned. “what can i say? i’m a hands-on kind of guy.”

you rolled your eyes, chuckling softly, but the way his fingers squeezed your knee for just a second sent a jolt through you. he wasn’t letting go, not even when everyone else joined in on the teasing.

ashley leaned over the back of the couch, an exaggerated look of pity on her face. "i mean, it’s cute and all, but how do you breathe? he’s always touching you.”

josh shrugged, still looking completely comfortable. “she doesn’t seem to mind.” his voice was playful, but there was an edge of seriousness beneath it.

you glanced over at him, your pulse quickening. no, you didn’t mind. in fact, you had grown to expect it, maybe even craved it. his presence, his touch. it had a calming effect on you, even if it was doing the opposite to your emotions now.

your friends had been teasing about this for weeks and you weren’t sure how to explain the connection without sounding ridiculous.

"she knows that i'm just that good at making sure she’s comfortable," josh said with a quick grin. "it’s kinda my thing."

emily laughed. “at this point, i wouldn’t be surprised if you two woke up spooning!”

you felt the blush rising to your cheeks as you shoved josh lightly, but his hand slid down your leg, brushing the inside of your thigh, lingering just a second too long before pulling away. you froze, the sensation sending a wave of warmth through you.

he shot you a quick look, eyes twinkling with amusement, but there was something else behind them.

before you could respond, chris called out from the other side of the couch. “what? it’s just a little friendly affection, right?” he winked, clearly teasing.

“yep,” you agreed quickly, your voice coming out more breathless than intended. “totally. just friends.”

josh gave a low hum, leaning back and stretching his arm out along the back of the couch, his fingertips brushing against your shoulder. “if you say so,” he murmured softly, only for you to hear. the weight of his touch felt heavier now, his fingers grazing your skin.

as the movie droned on, your focus drifted away from the screen. your mind was entirely on josh, the way his body was so close to yours, the way his touch lingered. you found yourself leaning into him more without realising it, like you were drawn to him just as much as he was to you.

the others had mostly gone back to watching the movie, though there were still occasional glances your way, always with that teasing edge but josh didn’t seem to care. his thumb traced slow circles on your shoulder now, his hand occasionally slipping down to brush your arm. 

you turned your head slightly, looking up at him. he wasn’t even looking at the movie anymore. his focus was entirely on you.

“josh?” you whispered, keeping your voice low enough that the others wouldn’t hear.

“hmm?” his eyes flicked down to meet yours, his expression soft but with that familiar mischievous glint.

you hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to say what was on your mind. “why do you always…?” you trailed off, not sure how to phrase it without sounding too obvious.

he smiled, a knowing look crossing his face. “always what?”

“always… touch me,” you finished quietly, your pulse quickening at the vulnerability in your own words.

josh’s smile didn’t fade, but his gaze grew a little more serious. he leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper as his hand moved from your shoulder to your cheek, cupping it gently. “it’s… comforting. you’re comforting.”

you stared at him, heart racing as the weight of his words sank in. there was more to it, you could feel it, more than just the comfort of touch. there was something between you that had always been there, quietly lingering beneath the surface.

“you don’t mind, do you?” his thumb brushed against your cheek now, the gentle motion sending a warmth through you that had nothing to do with the blankets.

you swallowed hard, your breath catching in your throat. “no,” you whispered. “i don’t mind.”

josh’s gaze flickered down to your lips for a second before returning to your eyes. there was a moment of hesitation, but then he leaned in just a little closer. “good,” he murmured, his voice barely audible.

“because i don’t think i could stop even if i tried.”

comments and reblogs are appreciated ♡

© ruewrote 2024.

[nottsangel]

the red means i love you — r.c.

pairing: dark!rafe cameron x dark!reader

warnings: 18+ smut, murder, vaginal sex, extreme violence, stabbing, blood, knifeplay (carving), bloodplay, possessive and obsessive behaviour (reader and rafe), fingering, hair pulling, slight spanking, toxic relationship, reader and rafe are both fucked in the head

word count: 5k

summary: in a relationship fueled by hidden obsession and jealousy, you and your boyfriend are more alike than you initially thought.

moodboard // m.list // blurbs m.list // taglist

You hummed along to the song blasting from your speakers, stretched out on your stomach while absentmindedly scrolling through TikTok, your long nails tapping against the screen. With your boyfriend away on their annual family vacation, you were left restless and bored. Since you started dating him a year ago, you've spent practically every moment together, causing your hobbies and personal interests to gradually fade, along with your sense of individuality. He was the centre of your world, everything in your life revolved around him— you were willing to go to any lengths for him, and you knew he would do the same for you. What you both didn’t know, was how far you would be willing to go for each other.

Yawning while watching the nth slime scoopability video on your TikTok for you page, a notification popped up on your phone— rafe_cameron posted a new picture! You instantly tapped on it, having notifications turned on for a reason only to find a photo of your boyfriend on a yacht, clad in nothing but his blue swimsuit. Fuck. His defined abs, the tight shorts showing his bulge through the fabric, his hair messy and slightly wet— you instantly felt an ache between your legs, prompting you to rub your thighs together.

Though it had only been a few days since you had last seen him, his absence weighed heavy and the picture didn’t help. You found yourself analysing every single detail of the picture, but your focus kept going back to his bulge as you could practically feel his cock filling you up so perfectly like he does every night again, except for tonight. You were desperately craving his touch, and just as you were about to reach your hand into your shorts to relieve the achy feeling, your mood was ruined when you checked the comment section.

oliviaprentiss4: looking good Cameron! 😍

Bang. You threw your phone aggressively at the wall while letting out a piercing scream as your breaths grew shallow and fast, anger coursing through your veins. Fucking bitch. Of course it’s Olivia, who goes after your man every chance she gets. Despite Rafe's constant assurances that she's just a friend and nothing more, as a girl yourself, you can't help but notice the subtle flirtations — the way she twirls her blonde locks while gazing up at him with fuck-me eyes whenever they talk. You're not stupid.

You fixed your gaze intently on the wall, attempting to collect your thoughts and calm your breathing as a plan dawned upon you. Swiftly grabbing the lip gloss from the bedside table next to you, you hastily reapplied it before gathering your phone from the ground and switching to the camera app. You raised your phone in the air, pushing your tits up and pulling your top down just a tad bit, leaving nearly nothing to the imagination as you snapped a few pictures while switching poses.

Brandon is gonna fucking love these, you thought to yourself while scrolling through your camera roll, referring to a fratboy you met at a party before you started dating Rafe. You hooked up with him once, seeing him as nothing more than just a one-night stand, but he became obsessed with you after that— replying to your Instagram stories daily and asking you to hang out at least once a week. You knew he would comment if you posted a few sexy pics, and you were right.

brandontheman: cute top, but im more interested in whats under it ;)

You bit your lip as an amused but sinister smile spread across your face, knowing it would infuriate Rafe. Clicking back on his profile to check the new picture once more, you noticed new comments had been added. Your smile abruptly vanished as you glanced at Rafe's comments section again, feeling the anger that had started to subside returning with force.

rafe_cameron: @ oliviaprentiss4 Thanks liv.

Liv. He fucking calls her Liv. Fucking asshole. You muttered curses under your breath, fists clenching as your breathing quickened and your jaw tightened again. He could've simply ignored her. Or deleted her comment. Or blocked her when you started complaining about the bitch four months ago. But no— the fucking idiot calls her Liv, for everyone to see, including you.

With hands trembling from sheer rage, you redirected your attention to your phone before switching profiles. rafe_cameron. Now, you wouldn't exactly label yourself as toxic for having his profile logged in on your phone. You're just, you know, keeping an eye on him, with the best intentions after all. Even though he was unaware that you peeked into his phone to get his password when he was showering. Hmm. Okay, maybe you were a little toxic, you can admit that much. But being toxic means being smart so you went to settings and disabled notifications, ensuring Rafe wouldn’t suspect a thing before tapping on his chat with Olivia.

As you scrolled through the chat, nothing new caught your eye, which didn't come as a surprise given that you checked his profile on a daily basis. It was the usual— Olivia showering him with compliments whenever he posted a picture of himself, and him graciously thanking her. You shook your head in disbelief, your jaw tensing with anger at his consistent responses to her. She was a big problem— a serious threat to your relationship, and you desperately needed to get rid of her. You took a deep breath, hoping your plan would succeed, before typing out a message.

rafe_cameron: hey liv.

oliviaprentiss4: hey rafey!

Rafey. Oh, this bitch really wants to die.

rafe_cameron: my girlfriend is out of town tonight. wanna come over?

oliviaprentiss4: sounds good! I’ll be there at 9!! 🤍

Not a girl’s girl, huh? You scoffed at how easily she agreed to a man cheating on his girlfriend, yet a small smile tugged at your lips as it seemed that your plan was starting to take work. Now you just had to figure out how to get inside Tannyhill, but let’s be real— breaking in is the easiest part of it all.

The moon hung low in the sky, casting eerie shadows across the Cameron’s estate except for a few lights that you hastily switched on when you arrived five minutes before nine. It was quiet; the only sounds in the eerie mansion were the ticking of a clock and a few birds chirping outside.

You were impatiently sitting on the couch, waiting for Olivia, with your knee bouncing up and down— not from nerves though, but rather, excitement. A wicked grin spread across your face as you heard the doorknob turn, followed by cautious footsteps on the wooden floor. Olivia gasped audibly when she spotted you, her face flushing bright red as she stumbled over her words, too stunned to articulate a coherent sentence.

“I- Sorry, Rafe said- I mean. I thought you wouldn’t-“ “You thought what, exactly? That you could fuck my boyfriend without me knowing? God, you really are such a stupid, fucking bitch.”

Your words hit her hard, causing her to freeze in place as she fiddled with her fingers nervously. She realized she fucked up bad when she caught the insane, psychotic glare in your narrowed eyes, which was filled with unmistakable hatred directed at her. It sent shivers down her spine— she came to the stark realization that you were more than simply a jealous girlfriend; she was fearing for her life.

You rose from the couch and marched towards her, causing her to take steps back in panic, her eyes widening in terror. But you were quicker, consumed by rage. She cried out in agony as you seized a handful of her blonde hair, and violently hauled her towards the ground until she smashed into the floor with a loud thud.

“Tsk, so many men, and still, you had to choose mine. Dumbest decision you could make, Liv. And you’re gonna fucking regret it.” You hissed as you straddled her. She slowly opened her eyes, feeling disoriented from her head hitting the floor as she confusedly gazed up at you. It was over for her. You knew it, she knew it. The poor girl gulped when you took a knife out of your back pocket— the pocket knife that Rafe bought you to defend yourself from men. Oh, if only he knew. Thank you baby, best present ever.

“Here’s what I’m gonna do. I will use this cute little knife to stab you, okay? Not just once though, no, there’s no fun in that.” Now, this was the moment where she broke down in tears, pleading for you to let her go. You revelled in the sense of power, devoid of any trace of empathy, as you observed the girl's panicked state with streaks of mascara running down her face. What the fuck did she expect? It’s the consequences of her own actions.

You gripped her face tightly, sharp nails pressing into her skin as you forced her to meet your gaze, her eyes wide with fear and brimming with tears as they met yours. She was frozen in place, paralyzed by an overwhelming sense of dread. “Hey, hey, just shut up for a moment and let me do my thing, okay? This is my moment and I can’t have you fucking it up. I’ve been looking forward to this.”

You paused and slowly closed your eyes, savouring the momentary bliss until Olivia interrupted you, prompting an irritated exhale and forcing your eyes to reopen. “Let me go, please! I wasn’t even gonna do anything with him! I promise!” she attempted and pleaded for one last time, despite knowing deep down that it wouldn't change anything. Your hatred was too strong, as evidenced by your eyes— the psychotic look on your face caused goosebumps to form all over her body.

“You think…” you started, breath quickening in growing anger as your jaw tensed, shaking your head and snickering in disbelief, “…you can fucking LIE TO ME?” you screamed before raising the knife in the air, not wasting any more time as she only fuelled your rage further, followed by bringing it back down, right into her chest next to her silver necklace with the letter ‘O’ attached to it. She let out a piercing scream out of agony before you quickly pulled the knife out, blood spurting in every direction possible just like in slasher movies, making you forget for a moment that this was real life. You were so caught up in the moment— it felt therapeutic in a way to finally release all of your pent-up rage.

“Don’t” stab. “touch” stab. “my” stab. “man, Liv.” stab, stab, stab.

Your heart raced as you witnessed the life drain from her ocean-blue eyes, a rush of power and exhilaration consuming you as you smiled down at her with a manic glint in your eyes. You experienced a strange sense of peace along with a wave of relief washing over you. Problem solved.

Standing up again, you had to steady yourself as you felt slightly lightheaded with adrenaline rushing through your body. You wiped the remaining blood from your face with your shirt before hearing a faint scream coming from upstairs, making you gasp as your heart beat out of your chest. What the fuck? You were convinced that no one was home, the entire Cameron family on their yearly vacation far, far away.

The screams came to an abrupt halt followed by a loud thud before hearing a person grunt, as if they were struggling while carrying something heavy. Fuck fuck fuck. This was when you started to panic. Whoever it was coming down the stairs right now was about to witness you fully covered in blood with a fucking dead body lying next to you on the floor. It was over.

“Shit man… why’s it never the skinny, short guys she fuckin’ falls for?” you heard a familiar voice complain, making you blink your eyes a few times as you saw your boyfriend descend the stairs while dragging a lifeless body behind him. “…Rafe?” you uttered, making him snap his head to the side, startled by your sweet-laced voice calling out his name.

First, his gaze fell on you, locking his blue eyes with yours, both widening in shock while staring at each other. Oh, he really fucked up, he thought, until he noticed the corpse next to you with the knife in your right hand, fresh blood dripping from it onto the floor. He then turned to face the body he was dragging down the stairs, blinking several times as he attempted to process the bizarre situation.

“Oh shit. We’re like that one Spiderman meme, babe.” you chuckled, cocking your head to the side as you watched the body comically fall down each step with a thud, leaving a trail of fresh blood behind. Rafe looked at you in astonishment, before his face quickly turned into one of absolute fury with nostrils flaring and his eyes narrowing. You knew that look on your boyfriend’s face— he was about to freak the fuck out. “ooohh my god, oh my god… what— what the FUCK are you doing?!”

Your face instantly dropped as you scoffed at the hypocrisy, “What the fuck am I doing? What the fuck are YOU doing?” you hurriedly marched towards him, casually stepping over the girl’s lifeless body with the bloody knife still in your right hand. With your faces merely inches away, you stared into his enraged, narrowed blue eyes before turning your attention to the body resting against the stairs. Brandon. The poor boy has been beaten to death with what you assume Rafe’s baseball bat, which has been sitting in the corner of his room untouched for quite some time, always leaving you wondering why he still had that thing. Well, that question was answered now. Brandon’s face was nearly unrecognisable, it was not a nice sight. He was covered in blood from head to toe, and it was clear Rafe used Brandon’s body to get all his aggression out.  

Your attention was then drawn to the once-white carpet he was standing on, which was now ruined and completely covered in blood. “Oh, and real smart, Rafe. Letting a body bleed all over your fucking carpet. What are you gonna tell your family, huh?” You snorted, taking in the mess that Rafe had made all over the house.

“That’s… that’s what you’re fuckin’ worried about here!? Just… I—  I don’t know, say you were on your period or some shit, jesus.” he rolled his eyes and shook his head, obviously not thinking about the fucking carpet right now as his mind raced with a thousand thoughts while squinting his eyes, still trying to figure out who the body was on the other end of the room.

“Is that— is that Oliv-“ “ON MY PERIOD, RAFE?! I’D BE FUCKING DEAD ALREADY IF THAT’S HOW MUCH I BLEED EACH MONTH, YOU FUCKING IDIOT!”

Rafe briefly closed his eyes and rubbed his temples, attempting to block out your exasperating voice but failing miserably as it was the only thing he could hear at that moment. His breathing accelerated and his eyes narrowed as his frustration reached its boiling point, his vision blurred with a red haze of anger before punching a hole in the wall, the impact echoing throughout the room, sending shockwaves of sound outward. “FUCK! Why do you— why you always gotta fuck things up for us, huh? Can’t you just be a normal fucking girlfriend for once? Jesus fucking christ.”

A normal girlfriend? Your heart shattered into a thousand pieces at his words. Each syllable fell like a knife to the heart, leaving you more vulnerable and hurt. In that moment, you realized with a sense of sorrow that no matter how much you loved him, it would never be enough. Tears from sheer rage and heartache began to well up in your eyes as your grip on the knife tightened. You felt so misunderstood— why couldn’t he just see that no girl could ever love him the way you do? That everything you do is for him?

“I— I did this for you, Rafe, for us. Can’t you fucking see that? She was gonna— fuck—  she was gonna ruin what we have!” you spoke in a trembling but urgent voice, swaying the knife in front of his face as blood splattered all over the walls, fat tears rolling down your cheeks. “I’d do anything for you, you hear me? ANYTHING! Nothing is ever gonna get between us, Rafe. And no one— no one will ever love you more than I do.” His eyes were eerily still, devoid of any trace of humanity, as he stood frozen, listening to your ramblings. It only fuelled your rage more, as you so desperately tried to get it through his head that you did it for him, with the best intentions, but Rafe gave no reaction.

“I just—  I just don’t get it… How the FUCK is this my-“ you continued with tears streaming down your face but gasped when you were abruptly interrupted by Rafe grabbing your face, leaving a red blood imprint on your cheek before pushing you against the cold wall followed by his lips meeting yours in a fervent urgency. His body was pressed against yours with his hand gripping the back of your head, pushing you deeper into him to intensify the kiss as your tongues danced together. At that moment, all your surroundings melted away as you were lost in the overwhelming need for each other.

Because oddly, it turned him on— your insanity turned him on. It stirred a sensation of warmth, a tingling feeling, and a deep sense of gratitude within him. Knowing someone loved him to the point of being willing to do anything for him, even if that meant killing— that was all Rafe needed in his lonely existence, longing for someone to love him with the same intensity he felt for them. Rafe Cameron just needed to be loved.

“You’re— you’re… fuckin’ perfect.” Rafe whispered, his voice laced with an unfamiliar sweetness as his blue eyes intensely gazed into yours. Perfect? You blinked a few times as you shook your head, unable to process the sudden change in demeanour. “W-what?” you stared at him before he cupped your face with both hands, a look of solace and devotion on his blood-stained face. “Listen to me, yeah? ‘m never gonna let you go, I fuckin’ promise that. I’d do anything for you— anything, you hear me? Gonna take good fuckin’ care of my girl, a’ight?”

A relieved smile graced your lips, a chuckle escaping as you found comfort before you leaned in to kiss him once more, the embrace deeper and more intense than before, filled with longing and desire. He pushed you towards the couch, making you stumble backwards while feeling more aroused with each step you took. It was a bizarre scene— both of you covered in fresh blood, hungrily touching every part of each other’s bodies, with two corpses on the floor next to you, still bleeding all over. But that wasn’t any of your concern at that moment. All you cared about was how his skilled hands moved over your skin, making you crave him even more.

Rafe, on the other hand, felt he still had something to prove— as if murdering a man wasn’t enough. He needed you to know how good he could make you feel. He needed you to understand that no man on this planet could treat you better than him. You could see it in his lustful eyes as he pushed you back on the couch, followed by him crawling on top of you and attacking your still blood-covered neck with hungry kisses. The ticklish feeling of Rafe’s mouth made you giggle as the metallic tang of blood flooded his senses, coating his tongue with an iron bitterness that lingered long. He didn’t know whose blood it even was, maybe both of theirs together mixed with yours, by the way he was so aggressively biting and sucking on your skin.

“Mine. All fuckin’ mine. Got it?” he snarled as he withdrew and grasped your face tightly, forcing you to look him into his intense eyes. You agreed with a nod, flashing a naughty smile as you gazed up at him coyly through your lashes. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Don’t wanna go around killin’ the entire neighbourhood.” He growled, before trailing his lips to your earlobe, gently sucking on it as his expensive cologne filled your nostrils. “But I will if I have to.” His voice raspy as he spoke, making you become wetter with each passing second.

“Hm, i don’t doubt that.” You remarked before a moan escaped your lips caused by Rafe’s hand groping your tits under your shirt, massaging them over the laced bra that he bought for you. “But know that I would kill the entire female population of the Outer Banks.” He couldn't help but let out an amused chuckle, still wrapping his head around just how insane his girlfriend truly was. “You’re so fucked in the head, shit.“ he whispered, pulling your bra down and toying with your nipples, making you bite your lip, “Just how I like it.”

Rafe then grabbed the knife from where you had dropped it next to the couch, skilfully twirling it a few times. You observed him with a rush of anticipation, uncertain of his intentions. He slid the knife beneath your top, eliciting a gasp as he swiftly sliced through the fabric, ruining your clothes, before repeating the action with your shorts.

“Rafe, what the fuck!” You hissed in annoyance as he destroyed your clothes. “Those were my favourites! Oh, don’t you fucking dare do the same with my underwear” It was evident he wasn't taking you seriously, the smug smile on his face only grew bigger before he slipped the knife under your bra and cut it open as well in one swift motion.

“Don’t be fuckin’ stupid. You know I can buy you anything you want, yeah?” Your lace underwear was next, leaving you inwardly agitated as he cut the fabric and flung it across the room. Seeing your dejected expression, he released an exasperated sigh. “Stop with the whining. I’ll take you shopping tomorrow, a’ight?”

He seized you by the hips and quickly turned you around, pressing your face into the cushion before you could comprehend what was happening as in an instant, you found yourself face down with your ass up, angled towards him. “Fuckin’ soaked already, huh?” He suddenly grabbed a handful of your hair and raised your head, then stuck his blood-covered fingers into your mouth. You swirled your tongue around his digits with a mixture of blood and drool running down your chin while feeling his clothed boner press against your bare ass. “Yeah— that’s right baby. Lick my fingers clean like a good fuckin’ girl.” You could feel yourself dripping down your inner thighs before Rafe scooped it up with his now clean fingers and slipped them into you from behind, making you let out a hitched breath at the sudden sensation as you moaned his name.

It didn’t take long for his digits to find your g-spot as he skilfully rubbed against it, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. Your pornographic moans combined with the wet sounds of his fingers pumping in and out of you made it difficult for him to control himself any longer, so he abruptly pulled out, causing you to whine at the sudden loss of contact. “You bitch! I was so fucking close!” Rafe’s hand reeled back before you felt a stinging pain on your ass, making you jolt forward on the couch. “Watch that fuckin’ mouth if you wanna cum.”

You heard the unbuckling of a belt behind you followed by feeling Rafe’s erection teasing your folds, dragging the tip up and down as his precum mixed with your wetness. Growing increasingly impatient, you tried to push yourself back onto his cock, to no avail as he held your hips firmly. “Aww, poor girl wants it bad, huh?” his voice laced with faux sympathy. “Then beg for it.”

“Rafe just fucking do-“ your words were quickly interrupted by him grasping your hair and leaning down to your eye level. “I said fuckin’ beg for it.”

“Fuck. Please, okay! I need to feel you! Just, please, fuck me” Rafe pushed himself into you in one quick thrust, swallowed by your warmth as he watched his cock disappear into your body. He gave you no time to adjust as he stretched you out completely, causing a brief sensation of pain that was quickly replaced by pleasure. He let out a sigh at the feeling, one hand on your lower back and the other on your hip as he quickly set a brutal pace— deep, erratic thrusts hitting your sweet spots so perfectly. Your nails scraped against the leather of the couch, nearly tearing it apart as you pushed yourself back onto Rafe’s cock, making him grunt at the sight. He massaged your inner walls so perfectly, making you moan his name loudly over and over again.

Rafe suddenly stopped in his tracks, cautioning, “Stay still or this will hurt, like bad, a’ight?”, causing you to furrow your brows in confusion before hearing him reach for the knife once again from next to him, sending a gulp down your throat. You tensed, anticipating the sensation, well aware of what was about to happen, just as you felt the sharp edge of the blade against your delicate skin while he was still balls deep inside of you. “So fuckin’ pretty all covered in blood, shit.” You could feel the letters he was etching into your skin— R.C., his initials. Once he was done, he tossed the knife on the floor before quickly pulling out, causing you to whine at the sudden empty feeling as he leaned down, licking up your blood that was dripping from the fresh wounds, mingling with Olivia's still-stained blood on your skin. “Forever mine.”

Rafe slapped your ass once again, causing you to cry out from the stinging pain of his hand making contact with the fresh carvings on your skin. “Now, where were we?” He slipped into you again as he mercilessly continued his thrusts, strangled noises leaving your mouth at the sudden feeling. He noticed your moans were muffled by the pillow so he grabbed a handful of your hair and tugged it firmly, pulling you back to meet his thrusts.

“Shit, look at ya now. Not so tough anymore, huh?” Rafe groaned as he pounded into you, his brutal thrusts making your eyes roll to the back of your head as your vision started to blur. “Shut— up.” You muttered in between his thrusts, your mind all fuzzy as his tip repeatedly hit your cervix. You clenched around him when he kept hitting that one spot inside you, the pleasure building as you could feel his cock twitching inside you.

You arched your back with your eyes fluttering shut as felt your orgasm approaching. “I’m— I’m so fucking close, oh my god” You moaned out with your mouth agape, nails digging deep into the skin of his arm that was wrapped around your body as the sensation became too much for you.

“Come f’me, doll. Gonna fill you up so fuckin’ good” Rafe’s hand snaked around your body to rub fast circles on your sensitive clit, making you moan loudly as your orgasm abruptly struck you, causing you to clench hard around his cock with buckling knees. All your muscles tensed as you saw stars, a wave of pleasure fully overtaking you with Rafe still pounding into you, chasing his own orgasm. He came not too long after you, slow and drawn-out curses spilling from his lips with his head thrown back as you could feel the familiar pool of warmth fill you up to the brim, completely emptying himself inside of you as his orgasm hit him.

He rode out his high before he carefully pulled out as your chest rose and fell in a frantic rhythm, each breath a struggle to fill your lungs with air while trying to regain your breath. “My pretty, pretty girl.” Rafe praised, staring at your cum-dripping cunt with a grin on his face.

As you opened your eyes, the harsh reality crashed over you like a wave, sending a shiver down your spine at the sight of the lifeless bodies lying across the floor. Panic laced your voice as you turned to face Rafe, desperation evident in your words. "Rafe? What the fuck are we going to do with the bodies?"

His response was surprisingly calm, his tone carrying an unsettling assurance. "Don't worry ‘bout that. I'll take care of it, a’ight?"

The eerie composure in his voice sent a chill down your spine, hinting at a familiarity with murdering that made your stomach churn. "What? How— how do you know how to clean up bodies?"

A sinister smirk crept onto his handsome features, causing you to furrow your brows in confusion and disbelief before his blue eyes stared deep into yours, holding you in their gaze with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. “Princess, what do you think happened to poor Jake last month? And Dylan before that?”

any feedback, reblogs and comments are very appreciated !! ♡

nav. // m.list // blurbs m.list // please support by buying me a coffee!

tags pt. 1 (join here): @vxntxque @goingbackt0505 @heroftbiggestfan @locker42 @venuslore @lucyvg02 @yesv01 @oncasette @drxwstxrkxy @findapenny @skyesthebomb @harlowsgirl @maybanksstar @poppet05 @katiemay2 @demiioxox @maybankslover @iruzias @iluvweasleys @ae1szn @sweetestdesire @loki-lovebot @kliness @liltimmytimtim @cavillslvt @euphoricals @miapanticc @iluvjj @rafecameronsprincess @rafesdirtyslut @peterficrecs @annaaaa14237 @harryspunchingbag @iameatingmyhair @rensolosprincess @apcllpsie @mariiastarkey @surprisinglysarah @sw34terw34ther @fredweasleyslut @yell0wclouds @crybabytecrs @btoliana @f4ll-for-you @pqndxra @httpsannoyinglolx @lcvelylies @marzipaanz @imjustcaitlin @outerbankspov @vqztsw @hagwshsjw @valel07 @gigito092507 @ry1ssa @dandyfordaffodils @drewfgs @thegirlnextdoorssister @aestheticgrungecrybaby @wh0r3-for-klaus @angzls @sarnghoe @ihearttits @immaslt4uuuu @ihrtrafeandethan @loverofdrewstarkey @darleneslane @smutslut @julesmendoza890 @lorealainnehaille @thelomlisrafecameron @thatmarvelgirly @rafesthroatbaby @camelliaflow3r @aris-void @urmanlubbudoo @drudyslut @u1t1m4t3-b1ur @drewstarkeyslut @rafescokenostril

[tangerineastronaut]

can you do how they would be when your pregnant ot8

ATEEZ during your pregnancy ❤︎ ot8

Pairing: ot8 headcanons Genre: fluff, mentions of smut Requested: Yes w.c. 2.5k Warnings: pregnancy discussion, talk, sexual bits (not a whole lot of smut I promise) A/N: This took a surprisingly long amount of time I'm sorry!! I'm not sure if you meant ateez or not, I assumed so since that's what I've been posting recently. If not please send me an ask and I will do this for another group! Requests: Open (link below)

Requests | WIPs Masterlists: BTS | ATEEZ | GOT7 | Stray Kids

Taglist: @baby-stay92 @cozypaint If you'd like to be added to my taglist, please DM me or click here.

🔞Content Below the Break🔞

Hongjoong

The absolute worst (best)

Scolds you for "doing too much" aka walking up the stairs or picking up a gallon of milk.

Buys you the most expensive brand of prenatal vitamins despite your doctor insisting the cheap ones are fine

Checks on you via text every hour when he's not with you

^ and when he is with you

Is lowkey afraid of failure as a father, reads parenting articles

Sends you decaf coffee at work

Wants to feel your belly but won't unless you invite him to

Teary eyed when he feels the baby kick for the first time

Sampled the heartbeat at the ultrasound visit to use in a song

Writes letters to you and the baby and keeps them in a memory book for you to read later (but you don't know this)

Nursery is fully decked out and the baby already has a full wardrobe

Your crying makes him panic, he hates seeing you cry and will frantically try to soothe you every time

Is grossed out by your cravings but will get them for you anyway—why do you have to crave vegetables?

Sex is soft and lazy in the best way

Side sex (think sunday morning sex except any day) >>>

Like imagine his chest against your back, his cheek against yours, one of his hands keeping your leg up so he has room to fuck you, asking if it feels good and if you're comfortable, except he's kind of whining and breathless ~

No pregnancy kink but thinks you're breathtaking, as always

^ even when you haven't showered, your legs are hairy, etc. He thinks you're a work of art

Plays music for you and the baby, asks what he/she responds to and makes note of it

Overprotective, does not like it when people touch you in general, let alone when you're pregnant

Visibly dies inside every time someone's hand goes to your belly without asking you first—would scold people if you'd let him

Posts photos of you each month documenting your pregnancy and leaving a words of appreciation for you

Keeps a copy of the ultrasound photo with him

May not have his hands on you 24/7, but he makes sure you know you're loved as well as the baby

Seonghwa

So freaking soft for you both

Loves babies anyway but your baby??

Him leaning against the headboard so you can lean against him, he'll curl his arms around you and rub your belly while you talk

Talks to the baby, even when you're asleep

"I can feel you kicking in there. Let's let mommy sleep, hm? She gets cranky at daddy when she's tired."

Watches parenting videos

Loves showering with you since you can't take baths

When you joke that there's not much room anymore he'll say he knows that and pulls you closer

Shaves your legs for you when it gets too difficult, even if you're too shy to ask him

Buys you gifts every time he gets something for the baby

"The mom group says it's important for me to make you feel as loved and wanted as the baby."

^ has joined mom groups on social media, because "dad groups are just full of men complaining"

Calls him/her 'the little one'

"How are you? How was the little one today?"

Isn't overprotective but has moments when he hovers

You don't mind

Sex is always slow and full of giggles and him reassuring you when you're out of breath

He likes you on your back so he can kiss you and keep pressure off of you, arms on either side of you to support his weight

Likes taking naps with you even though you're always napping due to exhaustion

^ rarely actually sleeps, just wants to be near you and the baby

Knows your cravings by heart

"Pickle juice and french fries? That's a new one."

His nesting is as bad as yours if not worse; you both frantically clean the house months before the baby arrives

Loves when you send him selfies/belly pics

Isn't fazed by your emotions, helps you work through them and validates you

"Being pregnant doesn't mean you aren't allowed to have feelings, pretty girl. I'm here."

Yunho

Probably the most excited externally

Loves rubbing your belly and watching the baby kick his hand

Unironically purchased the "I'm proof daddy doesn't play video games all the time" onesie

Brings you ice cream even if you don't ask for it

"I'm telepathically linked with our baby, he/she said they want ice cream. I don't make the rules, y/n."

p r e g n a n c y k i n k

"Look at you, so fucking pretty and full."

Sex is unbelievably gentle despite his filthy words

Won't put you on your back, likes to have you in his lap so he can do all the work

Likes taking you out and showing you off, even when you feel like a mess

Posts pictures of you constantly to the point where people joke he's running a y/n maternity account

Foot rubs

Sympathy pains

"Our heartburn is bad today. I want a cinnamon roll. With sprinkles."

Teases you relentlessly

"I'll race you to the kitchen—oh yeah."

Handsy af but you don't mind

Walks up behind you to hold your belly

Sits up at night to rub it when the baby won't settle

He/she loves Yunho's voice and they begin kicking when he speaks

^ he uses this to his advantage

"Mommy's calling herself ugly again, I'm gonna need some backup from my internal ally."

Already 2 v 1 and the thing isn't even here yet

His google search history is worse than yours

^ "can pregnant women eat carrots"

"how long does pregnancy really last"

"how to make pregnant woman stop crying"

"why is my pregnant girlfriend crying"

"why am I crying"

"how to stop crying when your pregnant girlfriend cries"

Loves when people ooh and awe over you; beams and grins like an idiot bc you're his and he put the baby in you.

Yeosang

Seems calm

Is not calm

Is just as protective/concerned as Hongjoong but is so quiet about it you don't even notice

You haven't lifted a grocery bag since he found out about your pregnancy

Has the dates of your appointments memorized

No one touches the belly. He doesn't even say anything to anyone. They just don't.

Does little things to make sure you're extra comfortable, bought you a pregnancy pillow

Whispers to your belly

^ "I'm afraid my voice will scare the baby. I'll just whisper."

Pouts if the baby won't kick for him

You: "Please, Yeosang, for the millionth time fetuses cannot choose favorites! Our baby loves you, I promise!"

King of pregnancy cravings

2 a.m. runs to the convenience store because you want some strawberry milk

Forehead kisses with a hand on your belly >>>

Will literally get on his knees for a chat with him/her

Like imagine looking down and seeing this man smiling up at you, both hands on your tummy with so much love in his eyes I just—

His calm facade dissolves when you cry

It physically hurts him to see you break down and he will do all he can to help you

Talks about you nonstop and your symptoms, experiences, etc literally to anyone with ears

Signs you both up for a parenting class

Cannot believe how horny you are, but is happy to help

^ a little afraid of you tbh but still very much in love

Like Hongjoong, prefers side sex so he can still be close to you

Also loves foreplay/eating you out even more now because of how sensitive you are

Ultrasound visits/pics make him choked up though he tries to hide it

His brain has not processed the fact that his baby is literally inside of you

It isn't going to fully sink in until there's a baby in his arms

^ is never going to put him/her down

San

Proud Dad™

Is excited, but calm

Similar to Yeosang but not as intense

^ still protective, but doesn't mind when people touch your belly as long as they ask first

Buys two copies of baby books for you both to read at the same time

Posts pictures of your pregnancy journey with quotes or long paragraphs about how beautiful you are

lowkey pregnancy kink?

Cautious

Armchair sex/you in his lap - super slow and soft

Loves showering with you after to hold you and massage your back/shoulders

Doesn't necessarily treat you like you'll break but is still very gentle with you

Hugs are softer, he doesn't squeeze as tight, likes to hug you from behind and look over you to see what you're doing

Touches your belly in a reassuring way, likes to brush his hand against it and feel the baby's reaction

Does it in public probably the most of the members, though it's not really intentional

His hands used to go to your waist and now they go to your bump ~

Doesn't talk to the baby as much as he sings to him/her

Is way too excited to take maternity photos

Gets caught staring at you by literally everyone

Does not care

Thinks you hung the stars

Loooooves being snuggled in bed with you with your bump between you, rubbing your belly and whispering as though the baby is sleeping

Is very expressive about his fears/doubts and wants you to be as well

Blushes when people call him daddy

Blushes harder when you call him daddy

Pretty calm when it comes to your emotions, will just go with the flow and give you what you need, whether that's space, affection, or food

secretly hopes you want another one

Mingi

When I tell you this man is terrified

Does not think he can care for a baby despite your reassurance

Asks all the questions

"I mean, how do we know when it's done? You know, like, cooked all the way?"

Oddly protective despite his fears

Does not like anyone touching your belly

Any time someone comments on your size/roundness/etc he's ready to throw hands, does not care if it's the ajumma two doors down from you

You: "Mingi for the love of god, I have told you, you cannot threaten people."

"She threatened you first!"

You: "She just said I look ready to pop??"

Horny af and has a pregnancy kink but will not initiate sex

You have to beg, and even then it's like ~

"No I mean just stand there, and I'll hold you and put it in. Yeah don't move at all."

Will still eat you out daily

Treats you like a glass doll

Belly kisses >>>>>

Buys baby books, gets one page in and declares this is too much to remember and you both should get a refund

^ shrugs at your look of horror "obviously I meant a refund for the books..."

Raps??? at your belly? Like nursery rhyme raps????

Also talks. A lot. Not cooing or baby talk

"Today at practice I slipped and it sucked, kinda hurt my knee. I'm still a good dancer, definitely better than Yunho. I'll show you. But I mean like after you can walk and stuff, or maybe you'll dance before you can walk and we can win money or something. Do they have baby dance competitions?"

Doesn't post the pictures he takes of you and your belly, looks at them when he misses you and won't let anyone else see them

Unironically refers to himself as your baby daddy and changes his contact in your phone [proudly]

When you cry, he cries, so please don't cry

Asks if he can attend his own child's birth

^ is excited when you say "...yes, Mingi. You can attend the birth of our child."

Wooyoung

Knows all there is to know about babies??

Is not concerned at all

Reassures you constantly

You ask him questions

Will lay on your thighs and absentmindedly rub your belly while watching tv or scrolling on his phone

Actually, will rub your belly anywhere, and usually does it without realizing it

Refers to you as mama and himself as dada even out of context

"Do you want a drink, mama?"

Is completely unfazed by your weird cravings and will get them for you as long as it's not harmful

"No, y/n, you cannot have sushi with your oreos. Mercury levels..."

Not overprotective in the slightest

Your biggest advocate

The only member who would fuck you properly while pregnant, as he knows it's safe within reason

Does not have a pregnancy kink, but loves how sensitive you are, the changes to your body, etc and thinks you're a goddess

Loves going shopping with you

Will absolutely argue with you over nursery themes

Finds you adorable when you're emotional, but will still try to calm you down and comfort you

Loves talking about you nonstop

May not praise you to your face as much as the others but tells everyone else he's so incredibly lucky to have you as the mother of his child

He was so clingy before

It's worse

His camera roll is full of selfies with him and your bump

Imagine woo making bunny ears over your belly (and telling your unborn child to say cheese)

Has full on conversations with him/her

Baby talks and coos and informs them they have the best parents ever

Jongho

Probably the most genuinely calm member when it comes to your pregnancy

Still very excited

Does not know as much as wooyoung but is fairly confident, not terrified or anxious like some of the others

Touches your belly from day 1, even without a bump

Sings and hums to it

The baby LOVES his voice and always kicks when he's near

He finds this adorable and loves talking to him/her while touching your stomach

Massages >>>>

Your pregnancy aches are afraid of him

Is a little shaken by your emotions but handles them well

Not too overprotective but really hates it when people touch you

Won't say anything though unless you're uncomfy

Sex?

Dear god

2ho breeding/pregnancy kink is my headcanon and I am sticking with it

Do not make eye contact for more than a few seconds

Is unbelievably horny for you

Doggy style with pillows underneath you >>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Is extra gentle despite how badly he wants you

Takes care of you first also ^ he knows it helps you relax so that's always his end goal

Loves the way you look while pregnant

Thinks you're beautiful anyway but something about the fact that you're literally creating a brand new human being

When you wear his t-shirts and nothing else because your clothes don't fit anymore it makes him melt ~

^ he complains for the fun of it but would probably cry if you stopped

Brings you snacks/drinks/whatever without you having to ask

Is willing to try your cravings with you as long as it's nothing vile (frito chips + peanut butter)

Wants to do every social media pregnancy trend with you

*buys your unborn child soccer cleats*

Doesn't post photos of you often but when he does, they're tearjerkers

Wants more kids but knows how difficult pregnancy/motherhood is so ultimately it's up to you

He's the cutest - kissing your temple while snuggling on the couch and rubbing your belly

"Our baby bear"

[fillinforlater]

On her jeans (Part 3 of 3)

Male Reader x Kim Minji, Hanni Pham, Danielle Marsh

Length: 4606 words

Tags: Daddy kink, anal galore, blowjob, face fuck, blindfolded, 4some, pearly gates, spitting, spanking, cursing, humiliation, missionary anal, analpie, ass eating, rimming

TW: kinda rough, pure, stupid smut, ass eating, eating cum out of ass

-Part 1- -Part 2- -Part 3-

(A/N: the most likely final part of the On her series. This fic is very mindless lmao. Important announcement at the end.)

“Yes, Daddy, that feels so good!”

Hanni’s enthusiasm is almost limitless. No matter how often you’ve ordered her to your office or your apartment or some secluded bed and breakfast, she never let you down. No, the only thing ‘down’ is the momentum of her hips whenever she rides you on the couch, her beautiful ass turned towards you. She loves to make it wiggle when your cock fills her cunt.

You take delight in such a sight and give her the good-girl-spanks she deserves. Hanni craves them as much as she craves your eyes, seeing nothing but love in hers. There is nothing stopping her from leaving, you never demanded the same things from her then you did from Minji. But where Minji lacks endless love and desire for you, Hanni fills these gaps and then some. 

“Oh my God, Daddy, you-you’re gonna make me cum again!” Hanni’s throat is sore from her moans and screams (and the rough face fuck you gave her earlier). “I-I can’t hold it!”

“Why would you hold it?” you ask her and pull her back against your bare chest. “Ruin yourself all over me, you slut.”

You give her thrusts, quick, not too strong and that is all she needs. Her effort was remarkable but in the end she wants you to fuck her over the edge. Hanni’s pussy convulses around your cock, tries to milk it and you are about to give in when your cell phone rings. 

“Fuck,” you curse and pick it up while dropping a powerless Hanni to the carpet floor. “Who is this?”

“Yo, have you turned on the TV?” the person on the other end, some former manager of a group you were interested in, asks. “Today are the MAMA awards.”

“And? They’ve been the same for basically forever. And you know I don’t have any control over—”

“Oh no, another group has won.” You can hear the smirk on his lips. “I bet you’ve heard the song and the group—some of them are under your wings, I assume?”

For a moment you are confused, then it dawns on you brightly. “You could say that,” you respond calmly and look at one of those who are under your wings—though under your cock fits better. “Let me be honest, I did not think that they would make it this far.”

“Their success is unheard of, they must have paid you really well,” he continues knowingly. The kind of business you do is in a paradoxical state of infamously known and also a dark secret in the industry. It’s a tightly knit conspiracy where every wrong step, every wrong turn can cost you basically everything. 

“Maybe they have to offer me something new, a MAMA win does not come around very often.”

#

“Congratulations on your win. I bet this is part of every trainee's dream” Sent by you

“Thank you, Daddy~ It definitely is, but I’m certain we couldn’t have done it without you “ Sent by Hanni

You smirk and scroll through your gallery. There is a picture you’ve saved, a picture of something you want. Some people screenshot what they want from social media apps or shopping sites—you will do the same right now, though your picture does not include a product one can buy. 

“I found this picture of you and one of your friends. She is very attractive.” Sent by you

“I know, Danielle ist so damn pretty <3” Sent by Hanni

“Her prettiness equals probably two MAMA awards…” Sent by you

That should do it. Hanni is probably stunned right now. If Danielle is next to her, she probably looks at her—your terrible influence deeply rooted in Hanni’s mind—and she will see what you see: another object for your desire, another girl you can train to make your personal fuck doll, another idol sold by her bandmate. Unlike Minji, Hanni might actually like the idea. 

You wait patiently as she ponders, typing, then deleting message after message until she settles for a simple text that makes this unhinged, lustful being inside you lose any and all control.

“Daddy deserves his reward as soon as possible. We need just 20 to 30 minutes~” Sent by Hanni

With a victorious sigh, you throw away your smartphone. It audibly cracks on the floor, but you don’t give a fuck. Phones can be bought again, but what you will get, no one can buy. These next twenty minutes will feel like hours and every second beyond that will make you lose your mind. Atleast, that is what you would have to assume if it weren’t for someone suddenly sneaking into your apartment. 

Timid, quiet steps. The person is not wearing shoes. You hear the door fall shut, gently and suddenly, she stands in your doorframe. As if your life was a script, written by a higher being which, for some reason, likes your story to be filled with as much sexual fulfillment as possible, Minji has decided to come visit you. 

“Hello, Daddy,” she coos, catching your gaze with the way she presses her frame against the door frame. Her two piece outfit with all its white frays perfectly merges with said door frame, the warm light making it look like she could disappear in your walls. “I’m sorry for not announcing myself, but may I come in?”

“That depends,” you say, trying to act not-too-happy about her convenient timing. “It’s nice to see you barefooted and in this pretty outfit—but you need to approach the right way.”

“Of course, Daddy.”

Minji gets on her knees. She begins to crawl over your wooden floor and seeing her eager eyes has you riled up. Instead of waiting for her to unbuckle your belt, you open it on your own and let your pants drop when her face reaches your crotch. Minji moans gently and presses her face against the massive bulge in your boxers. She’s not really teasing you. It’s more of a ceremony, because Minji quickly proceeds to pull down your boxers with nothing but her teeth.

“Daddy, it’s so big and beautiful,” Minji says in all honesty, her idol persona washed away by her own horniness. “May I service you with my mouth?”

“Stick out your tongue,” you order and Minji follows. You slap your tip on the exposed wet muscle and watch her faintly smile at how excited you seem. “Looks really good, how could I say no?”

No warning and just a moment later, you are buried to the hilt in Minji’s throat. She gags violently, her head tilted backwards and her wide eyes quickly release a torrent of tears. You don’t comment on it, watch on with a cold, resting bitch face and begin to fuck her face roughly. It’s hard thrust after hard thrust; not too fast though, because you want to see the submission steadily grow in her eyes.

“Fucking good, so much better since you started taking my cock like a premium whore,” you hiss and reach for the sides of her head. She locks eyes with you and through a sea of tears, you can see that she is happy. Still happy. “But it won’t be enough. I need more, another hole, and I’m not talking about your pussy. I know that you are dripping from there, but I’m going to split you open somewhere else.”

You pull out and watch Minji try to catch her breath, shocked, weak; she gets no time to recover however. You grab her hair and slide back into her not-awaiting, but slave-like throat. She takes your pounding even as it forcefully removes her faint mascara and leaves her a drooling mess. It’s Minji’s masterclass in deepthroats—a fitting end, because you will fuck something else today.

After many harsh thrusts, too many to count, but enough to have Minji at your complete mercy, you pull out. She bends over, tries to keep her composure and breathe, but you won’t allow this. She has to look at you and understand what you desire. You slap her face and spit at it. “Don’t avoid me, look at me!” you shout and Minji is tiny. A kneeling tiny bitch who follows your commands. “I will fuck your ass, do you understand?”

“Yes, Master,” Minji cries and puts her forehead to the floor. “Tha-Thank you for the award, Ma-Master. Please, a-abuse my ass.”

Not that it tugs at your heartstrings or anything—but instead of just fucking her in this state of complete devastation, you help her up, to her feet and cup her cheek firmly… almost gently. Minji still sobs, barely able to look up at you.

“You are here to thank me with your ass? That is actually adorable and very thoughtful of you.”

“I-I thought, because Master hasn’t fucked me th-there yet, and because he probably did with Hanni already, I—”

“Oh, I understand, but Minji—” You lean down to her ear and whisper, while your hand travels down her bare midriff into the dress and finds her folds, soaked in arousal. “—we are already past the Master stage. And you underestimate my greed, my desire for more, infinitely more. Don’t worry about that though. Get on the couch and show me your cute little asshole.”

“O-okay. Thank you, Daddy.”

As Minji lays down and wiggles off the bottom part of her dress, you get a bottle of water-like lube from a drawer in the living room table. These bottles are always nearby because situations like this have occurred quite a few times in your life. More than you can count, enough to make you the biggest villain for every girl group fan.

When you pour the lube on your cock, you inspect Minji and her cute posture. She is on her back, legs spread and in the air, while her fingers keep her butt cheeks apart. Her ring twitches and it twitches more when you rub lube all over it. Minji mewls, and mewls some more when you push a finger past the first tightness to lube the inside as well.

“You are a bit stiff, you need to loosen up or else it will hurt.”

“Isn’t it supposed to hurt?” Minji asks in all honesty. “I’m okay with Daddy hurting me, as long as he feels good.”

You have to hold back or else you would’ve laughed at her innocent expression and the confused fear in her orbs. You align your cock with her ass, not to immediately force yourself inside that hot, tight hole, but to teach Minji how to take you well.

“If you relax, Minji, I promise it will feel good. Weird at first, probably too big, but the more you loosen up and let your asshole become a source for pleasure, it will feel great.”

“Hanni probably already knows this,” Minji mumbles in shame. You quickly reach for her jaw and put a chaste kiss on her lips.

“To be honest, I haven’t even fucked her ass before, so stop worrying. Take deep breaths and stay re-laxed.” With those final words, you wait for Minji to follow your instructions—breathe in; breathe out—before you push your cock into her brown hole.

“Oh Daddy, fuck,” Minji groans, right into your face and you love how her hands start to hold onto your back, your arms as you push more cock into her. “You are so, so big!”

“There is still more, but you are doing a great job, Minji,” you respond calmly, lifting up her ass a bit to penetrate her deeper. “Soon, you’ll love this more than anything.”

“Daddy!” Your cock is fully inside her and Minji seems to go crazy, her head thrown back into the couch, her mouth releasing loud moans rapidly. Her anal cavity squeezes you tightly, tries to wring you and it’s insanely impressive. She takes you fully on the first go and slowly catches herself. “I-it feels weird but soooo—”

“Good, right? I can feel you relax, so I will start to fuck you for real now. Congratulations, you’re not a butt virgin anymore!”

Minji weakly laughs and then gasps when you drag your cock mostly out of her ass just to push it back in, deep, to the fucking hilt. You watch as her eyes open wide, then narrow, then close, all in the rhythm of your pumps. Her cunt drips more juice too, she cannot deny the pleasure.

“Daddy, why, why do you feel so good?” Minji screams. “Why, your cock—you made me your butt slut!”

“You’re a natural at this, most of your kind quickly become addicted.”

“Make me addicted, Daddy! Please, use this hole and make me—”

You reach underneath her frayed top and pinch a hard nipple, while your teeth go for her lower lip. You can feel her insides combust, her ass clenching around your cock, her pussy convulsing around nothing, yet it is enough to make her cum. Minji is orgasming from just her ass, but she tries to hide it. 

“There is nothing to be embarrassed about,” you laugh and begin to fuck Minji harder, her ankles in your firm hands. “Cum with your ass and be mine forever. You cannot escape anyways, so why would you want to? Don’t run from the pleasure, because I won’t stop fucking you until—”

Suddenly, you hear a key in the lock of your front door and someone whispering. Then quiet steps. Minji grows tense but you just smile at her, reassure her that there is nothing to be scared off. “Oh, you know these two, don’t worry~” 

“Huh?”

You look up and spot the first girl, Hanni, who smirks when she sees you. She puts a finger to her luscious lips and winks. You get her idea and press your palm on Minji’s mouth to keep her quiet while you slowly thrust into her tight ass. The young girl is visibly shocked that you just continue, but her shock grows even more when she spots the second girl.

“Unnie, this is weird. How long do I have to wear this blindfold?”

“Just a little bit longer~ We are almost there, just a few more steps.”

Hanni guides the blind Danielle, a beautiful, skinny girl dressed in what you assume is a stage or award show outfit. Either way you love how exposed her midriff and collarbone are. Danielle’s skin is flawless and her face looks even better than in pictures or videos.

The two get closer. Hanni is now behind the taller girl and guides her by holding her hips. The two seem familiar with this kind of intimacy. You quietly pull out of Minji’s butt and luckily, she stays quiet in this tense situation. 

“Dani, we have arrived,” Hanni giggles and wraps her hands around her friends’ tiny waist. “I have a present for you, but you have to get on your knees and guess what it is~”

“Unnie, if it’s your pussy again—we already did that! And if you want to fuck, you can just ask!”

You raise an eyebrow at Hanni who is clearly nervous and sweating. She got caught fucking with a second member of her group without your permission. You can’t really blame her. You can’t wait to stick your cock into that tight body and fuck Danielle’s mouth with your fingers. But for now, you let Hanni finish her game.

“This time,” she continues and kisses Danielle’s shoulder. “It’s something different. I have found the biggest, most beautiful cock because I know you would want to suck one of those someday.”

Danielle’s pale skin starts to burn with a deep red. All of her blood seems to go to her face. She starts to lose focus and whimpers a bit, especially because Hanni becomes more touchy, hands on her chest, her tummy, her ass.

“H-how did you know, Unnie?”

“You are really, really bad at hiding your dildo’s, Dani. I found like four of them. One still had your saliva around it~”

Danielle puts both hands to her face and lowers it in shame. Everyone in the room can still feel the glow of her blush through her fingers. You stroke your cock once, amused at the situation, but also tired of waiting. Hanni notices and continues her plan quickly.

“Look, Dani, I’ll show you how to do it.” Hanni lowers herself in between your legs. For the first time, you check out her outfit. Odd, you remember it from some performances a few months ago—does it really matter when she immediately goes to suck you, throat you even? “Oh my, it tastes so good! I wonder why that is?”

You point to Minji’s still exposed asshole and Hanni smirks knowingly. Poor Minji did not dare to move a single inch this entire time but now with Hanni’s loud gagging filling the room, she can stop being quiet and move her hands to cover up.

“U-unnie, are you really sucking it?” Danielle asks the obvious, still in disbelief. “Is it a real one, like, are you sucking a boy?”

Hanni pops you free from her perfect lips and makes sure to taste all of the lube and Minji’s ass from your manhood with her tongue. She cleans you passionately, from sac to tip until you finally give her a bit of precum. 

“Dani, he is a man, a Daddy. Trust me, he is very good looking and his cock is even better~” Hanni’s voice is so lewd, it feels cursed with her adorable visuals. You relish in her compliments and brush her black strands back behind her ear. “Kneel next to me and I show you.”

Danielle kneels down, her small frame taking the spot in between your legs next to Hanni. She is still confused though. “But Unnie, how can you show me if I’m not allowed to remove the blindfold?”

Hanni rolls her eyes and without warning, grabs Danielle’s face and pulls her into a kiss. The younger girl flails in surprise, finds hold on your thigh, but somehow she can’t hold onto it for long. Maybe the thought of a stranger really seeing her like this makes her lose grip on the situation—a good thing in your book.

“Ha-Hanni-unnie!” Danielle shrieks when their lips disconnect. “Why, why did that taste so good?” 

“If you want more, you need to suck and clean his cock like I did. Here, open your pretty mouth and be a good girl for Daddy~”

“You say weird stuff—ugh, hng!”

You groan softly when Hanni not-so-softly pushes Danielle’s face down your cock. A new, sensational throat engulfs you. Of course you expected violent gags and tears coming from behind the blindfold, how could you not. Hanni is literally forcing Danielle to deepthroat you for the first time. Her dildo training seems to have paid off however: Danielle is a lot more composed, measured even and makes sure to keep her teeth off of you. 

Soon, she finds her own pace and bops up and down your shaft, using her tongue from time to time without yet knowing where it actually feels good for you. It’s hard for her to learn when she can’t read your facial expression, so she just guesses and sucks and bops her head. It makes it all the more impressive how she can keep up with you and do a better job than Minji did on her first try.

“Hanni-unnie,” Danielle immediately shouts after getting her mouth off of your dick. “That was very mean of you, like, what the—”

You interrupt the young, angry girl by giving her blindfold a tug and watching it fall off of her dazzling, still flushed features. You smirk down at her as she watches up in awe, her eyes inspecting you like you did to her earlier.

“Oh, he-hello, sir,” Danielle says and tries to be formal while your cock is still on her lips. “I’m sorry we just walked into here and… about this.” She points at your hard shaft which you take in your hand and poke against her soft cheek.

“Don’t worry about it, you beautiful thing. In fact, I should be sorry about this right here.” You point next to you, where Minji tries to cover up her pussy. “Hope you don’t mind.”

“You, you had sex with Minji-unnie? Like, i-in her vagina?”

“Oh Dani,” Hanni coos and puts a hand into Danielle’s red top. “You don’t know how good a real cock feels in your pussy. Way better than a dildo.”

“Stop being so lewd, Unnie!”

“But you two are wrong,” you interrupt them and look at Minji, who valiantly fights through her embarrassment. There is nothing to be embarrassed about though; she did great taking your cock in her ass. “We had anal sex just now, and I think I speak for us both when I say that it was awesome.”

Hanni pouts at the thought of not yet having you in her ass while Danielle is both struck by horror and thrill when she cross-eyes your cock and then switches to look at Minji’s butt, which you uncover for her.

“Minji-unnie, was it really that good?” Danielle asks with wide open eyes.

“Yeah, how was it?” Hanni adds and involuntarily adds pressure for the leader to answer.

“I-it was… the best.”

A moment of silence and awkwardness for Minji until Danielle jumps up and pulls down her black skirt. Another unexpected turn, she seems to be ready to go asap. “Sir, can you—would you have sex with my butt too?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” you try to play it cool and reach for the bottle of lube. “Turn around, we need to get you ready.”

“Here, let me help you, Daddy.” Hanni gets a hold of Dani’s ass as soon as she spins around and spreads the cheeks apart. Dani gasps at first, but then giggles when she finds her Unnie to be already naked. She starts to kiss Hanni’s skin while you put the nozzle to her beautiful, clean ring and push lube inside. Danielle shudders while Hanni looks on with jealousy. It will be her turn soon enough though. 

“You have a gorgeous body, Dani,” you compliment her before grabbing her waist and pulling her onto you. “You are so light, I think I need to try a new position with you. Are you down for that?”

“Sir, I—if it’s not too crazy, I think I can do it. But remember, this is my first time.”

“You have to be relaxed, Dani,” Minji suddenly adds and stands next to her, not covering her private parts anymore. “If you are tense, it’s going to hurt—when you are loose however, Daddy can fuck you so good, it will feel like heaven.”

“O-okay then, I think I’m ready.”

You nod and lay down on the couch, Danielle on top of you. She rests her back on your strong chest and your hard cock searches for her tight asshole. Luckily, Hanni is there to help align your tip with it (not before sucking it of course). Dani takes deep breaths instinctively and with your primal instinct to fuck, your cockhead disappears in her ass.

“Oh fuck, that looks so hot!” Hanni coos.

“Stop staring, please,” Danielle whimpers and you feel her incredible texture convulse around your aroused phallus. No, she definitely gets turned on by this, so you’ll make it even better.

“Hanni, keep staring,” you order. “Oh, and make your mouth useful on my ass. See it as punishment for having sex with Dani without my permission.”

“Yes, Daddy, I’m sorry Daddy.”

“Sir, isn’t this too lewd?” Dani asks while you begin to rock her thin body up and down your cock like it’s a fleshlight. 

“Minji, how about you lick Danielle’s pussy. Make yourself familiar with it.”

“Yes, Daddy, she tastes really sweet and is quite… wet.” Minji smiles and you get what she means. Her mouth is promptly on Dani’s clit and now the two are moaning in unison. Your thrusts into Dani’s ass become harder.

“Oh dang, so much in my a-a—, I mean butt,” she whispers and you look at her face. “Sir, you are one lewd bast— person. Making young girls do this stuff. Aren’t you a bit too old for us?”

“Maybe that is why they call me Daddy,” you respond, the humor lost because your expression remains stern even through the pleasure. “Don’t hold back, curse as much as you want. This is no tv show or live stage. Get used to this cock, because I won’t stop after this one time.”

“I won’t either, you fucking bastard.”

Your lips meet in a haze, then you decide to give it your all. You fuck Dani hard, force more and more curse words out of her good-girl-mouth. Her cunt is forced against Minji’s eager lips, while you make sure Hanni is covered in your musk—though she kinda seems to enjoy serving your ass. Even after all this, she might still be the best baby girl out of this trio.

“Yes, fuck, yes, you fill my tiny ass so good! Fuck me with your big fat cock, give me that cock, open me so wide until I—”

“You horny bitch.” You yank down her top to reveal tiny tits, jiggling a little at your every thrust. Her skin is glowing, she is in complete heat. Danielle is a nymph with a tight ass and a pussy so wet, she can save someone from dehydration. You want to test your theory, if her orgasm is as explosive as you want it to be.

“My Lord, I’m so going to fucking cum, I will cum! Make me squirt, make me fucking, ahh!”

Like a fountain, Danielle’s juices paint Minji’s face, cover her hair and even Hanni below. She also doesn’t stop, not with your endless thrust into her ass. She is like an infinite source, eventually filling Minji’s mouth and marking Hanni as a dirty, rimming whore covered in girl cum.

“That was so good, Sir—”

“We are not yet done!” You squeeze Dani to your chest so she cannot escape and start to violate her ass some more, to the point your entire cock stretches her in all directions. For some reason, you feel like you could breed this hole for two eternities, but for now, one massive load has to be enough. 

With your final, deepest of thrusts, you force all of your seed into Danielle’s tight ass-pussy, fill it up and make sure she is tight enough to keep it inside for now. Pulling out is hard but rewarding, and hearing, feeling her pant on top of you is heavenly. 

“It’s so deep in me, fuck,” she moans and you bite her cheek. 

“Push it out of your slutty hole, you naughty bitch. 

“Hanni, Minji! Get ready for your daily load!”

The two girls are under our spell, not questioning anything you say and stick out their tongue underneath Danielle’s butthole. You pull back her heels to give them more space and with an blissful, erotic expression, Dani lets her ass be gaped. Your creamy white cum oozes out of her and Minji and Hanni greedily eat it all up, even getting their tongues into the completely overstimulated girl and cleaning her butthole.

“Shit, this is so lewd,” Dani whimpers and you put a hand around her throat.

“After I fuck Hanni’s ass in a rough Doggy, my heel on her face because I know she loves that, you will eat my cum out of her ass too. And don’t lie; I know you will like it.”

Danielle grins, licking her lips in excitement. “You are such a nasty bastard, Daddy.”

(A/N2: here is the very short version, I'll release a longer announcement later this week probably. I have decided to quit for a while, maybe forever but that is still in the stars. I can still write and I kinda like it, but this endless cycle of horniness and unhinged smut is killing me. I also need to focus on life/studies. More on that later this week. Love you all, peace out.)

[chunghasweetie]

𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐔𝐏 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 | J.JK

— pairing | fem!oc x gangsta!jjk

— summary | gangsta jk wants to crash at her place but she got a lil some up her sleeve

— warning | bad writing (i’m doing my best)

cussing, angst, smut, unprotected sex, illegal activities, gun play, mention of head, oc gets fucked with a gun, whining, cum eating, dirty talk.

— word count | 3.9k words

— song suggestion | gangsta (orchestra ver) —kehlani

It was the same thing everyday.

Work, go home, sleep.

Nothing ever changed and it had been like that for way too long.

She needed to switch things up somehow but she didn’t even have the energy to think of what could solve her issues.

Until he came along.

The two met at the liquor store randomly at around 2am. They reached for the same bottle, chuckling at the similar intention.

She immediately caught his eye. Which was surprising to her since she was in her pajamas with messy hair and no makeup.

He asked for her number and they had little meetups here and there.

He was so secretive and mysterious about what he was doing. Not in a gross, womanizer way. In a way that made her want to learn more about him.

He was ‘Jeon’ in her phone. She didn’t even have his full name.

He was inked up in tattoos. Tall and definitely bulky with muscle all over him. He was crafted beautifully.

He had a nice car. She noticed the extremely dark tint and possibly illegal modifications applied to the vehicle.

She had no clue what kind of job he worked or what he did in his day to day life.

Until one day he finally told her. He was the Jeon Jungkook that had been on the run for multiple crimes and ran a large gang in the city.

And she’d been fucking him the entire time.

He knew from the start she wouldn’t turn him in. He had her wrapped around her finger.

He knew all about her dilemma. How she needed that change in her life.

He was more than willing to provide that escape.

She craved something new, and he was just the man to give it to her.

“Let me come over baby.” He spoke on the other line. “Miss you.”

She was on her couch, biting her lip.

She knew he was not a good man at all. She knew that from the beginning. For years she promised herself she’d never be associated with any one of the sort.

Always following the rules got so boring.

“Don’t be like that.” Jungkook hummed. “I just wanna see you. You don’t want to see me Y/n?”

His voice was so dominant and demanding. He was strict and for right to it.

He somehow was able to have his own phone number that was untraceable by the police.

He was crazy good at avoiding getting caught.

“Okay.” Y/n gave in.

“Mm knew you’d be smart about this.” Jungkook chuckled to her, hanging up and getting in his car to head to her apartment.

She tilted her head back on her couch, sighing.

She didn’t think it would come to this. She thought things like this only happened in stories or in the movies.

This was the last thing she was thinking about. She couldn’t help herself though.

How could she? Jungkook may have been a criminal but he was so hot.

His voice was like a pied piper.

She was so drawn to him. His looks, his charisma, his body, everything.

She wouldn’t call it love. She couldn’t call it love. It was mere attraction and that’s all she labeled it as.

She always thought he looked like he was straight out of a TV show. Although he was rough around the edges, he was super sweet and caring considering what his lifestyle was like.

“Open up mama! Cold as fuck out here!” He yelled out, snapping her out of her thoughts.

Jungkook was at her apartment door, dressed in his white tank and tan cargo pants. His tank emphasized his muscular, tattooed arms so well.

He had a bouquet of roses in his hand, waiting for his girl to answer the door.

He was always doing such romantic gestures for her. There would be nights he wouldn’t want to do anything sexual. Simply coming over to spend time with her.

Once Y/n opened the door, he couldn’t help but curve his lips into a smile.

“Well look at you.” His eyes moved from the bottom to the top of her body. “Gorgeous.” He stepped in, immediately wrapping his arms around her once she shut the door.

She took a silent inhale. He smelt so damn good.

Maybe it was something in the cologne he was wearing that made her so attached to him. His scent instantly sent her into a trance.

“Hey.” Y/n replied. “Was just about to make dinner.”

“You were?” He mumbled against her neck. “Make me something baby.”

She nodded, agreeing. “You’re gonna have to let go of me.”

“Ugh fine.” He groaned. “Spending the night again. Cops looking for me alllll over.”

He knew they’d never find him, but the excuse always worked.

“That’s fine.” She nodded.

She did get anxious when he’d say things like that.

He was a fugitive and she was keeping him in her home.

Jungkook went up to her room, getting comfy in the clothes he already had over there.

She had started cooking for the both of them, making some chicken and rice dish she seen online.

As Y/n focused on her cooking, Jungkook was leaning back on the counter, simply staring at her.

“I like this.”

“You like what?” She blinked.

“Seeing you all domestic and shit.” He chuckled.

“I’m just cooking dinner.” She smiled.

“Mm it’s more than that.” He chuckled. “Making me a nice meal, having clean clothes for me, gonna tuck me into bed later. Love when we play house like this Y/n.”

She blushed. “I guess it is nice.”

“Food smells good.” Jungkook inhaled. “You smell better.” He wrapped his arms around her waist.

“I’m wearing that perfume you bought me last week.” She told him as she was making his plate.

“Oh really? It smells even better than it did in the store.” He hummed against her neck. “You’re wearing the jewelry I bought you too.”

“Of course. Never taking it off.” She chuckled.

“Good. If I’m iced out my girl gotta be too.” He planted a kiss on her neck.

“Well it’s very nice to be spoiled like this.” She giggled, handing him his plate. “Now go eat while it’s hot.”

He removed his body from hers, taking a seat at the table.

“Taste test it baby.” She told him, “I’ll start eating in a minute.”

He nodded, trying the food.

“How is it? Good?”

"Good's an understatement. Shit's fucking amazing, baby." He takes another bite and watches her.

“Yay! Happy you like it.” Y/n replied from the kitchen, trying to clean up some of her mess.

"You ain't made yourself a plate yet? Come here and sit." He looked over at her.

“Okay okay.” She nodded, getting a beer from the fridge for him. She made herself a plate finally and sat down at the table.

He leans back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest after she set the beer down in front of him. "Ain't no one else gonna take care of me like this. I’m lucky to have you.”

“You are.” She laughed. “Doubt any of those other girls know how to care of you.”

“What other girls?” He rose his eyebrow. “Jealous of the girls I’m around?”

“How could I not be?” She questioned. “I just don’t understand.”

He smirks as he picks up the beer and takes a long swig, his throat moving as he swallows.

“Don’t understand what?”

“Why you stick around me.” She spoke. “There’s girls who do the same shit you do. You and your boys go out and there’s strippers and bottle girls. I’m a regular ass person.”

He frowned at her, looking honestly confused. "What the fuck you talking about mama?" He asked as he leaned back in his chair and shook his head.

"I chose you because of you. Fuck all these other bitches. You're the only one who can handle my shit." He said honestly.

“That can’t just be it.” She shook her head.

“So what? You think I’m just in it for a good fuck?”

“That’s not— exactly it.” She sighed.

She could tell he’s growing a bit irritated but it was bugging her.

She knew guys hated that sappy shit. But she couldn’t help that she was getting her emotions get in the way.

He leaned back again, crossing his arms over his chest. He stared at her from across the table before speaking.

"Then fucking tell me, Y/n. What is it?" He asked, his voice growing softer but still holding onto that edge of annoyance.

“Forget it. Nevermind.” She sighed, finishing her food and taking her plate to the sink to wash it.

He watched her finish her food and take the plate to the sink. "You can't start a conversation like that and then drop it, babe." He said.

He began walking up behind her as she washed the plate. "You wanna know why I'm with you?

“I just want to know what we’re doing here. You’ve been coming over for months now and you’re doing all these romantic things for me and I just want to know what’s up.” She spoke honestly.

He stood behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist gently, resting his chin on her shoulder. "I like you here, like this. I like showing you a good time, you know?" He turned her around in his arms and gazed down at her.

“What does that even mean” She mumbled as she washed plates.

He lifted a hand to her cheek, thumb brushing against it gently. "It means I like being with you, mama. It feels...right.”

He leaned in closer to her, eyes searching hers. "I like spoiling you, taking care of you. Feels different than anyone before..."

As much as she wanted to pester him more about the subject, she didn’t say anything else.

He seemed to notice the hesitance and smiled softly, ducking his head to press a soft kiss against her lips. "You don't gotta overthink it, Y/n. It's just...good, okay? You know I love you.”

She finished up the dishes, putting them away to dry.

He watched her for a moment, before moving to her side and starting to help her with cleaning.

His hand brushed against yours, sending a shiver down her spine.

"Y/n, it's okay. I promise you." He whispered, leaning in to press another kiss against her temple. “I love you.”

“Love you too.” She thanked him. Her lips curved into a smile. “I mean it is cute to see this buff tattooed bad guy get all sappy and shit for me for me.”

He chuckled and shook his head, his eyes crinkling up with amusement. "You better not tell anyone" He threatened, his voice dropping lower as he spoke. "You love it though...”

“I guess I do.”

He laughed softly and pressed a kiss to her cheek. "I know you do." He whispered, his arms tightening around her as he let out a content sigh. "You're the only one who gets to see this side of me.”

“I’ll consider myself lucky then.” She laughed. “I was successfully able to tame the beast.”

He chuckled lightly and pressed a kiss to her neck, holding his arms tighter around her.

"You did more than tame the beast, baby...you own me completely. Shit, you could put a leash and collar on my ass anytime." He whispered hotly against her neck, his lips ghosting over her skin as he spoke.

She couldn’t help but laugh at his joke.

“I could keep you laughing and satisfied all day, if you'll just let me." He mumbled.

“Oh I’d let you anyyyy day of the week.” She laughed. “See what you’ve done to me?”

“I haven’t done shit baby that was all you.” He chuckled.

“Whatever.”

"Yeah, yeah, yeah whatever you say, baby." He picked her up effortlessly, “Let’s go upstairs hm?”

“Thought you’d never ask.” She agreed, allowing him to take her.

He chuckled, lifting her over his shoulder and carrying her upstairs as he kissed her thighs and gave your ass a playful squeeze. "Look at you...so fucking fine. You know I can't resist."

“Oh my gosh Jungkook.” She blushed as they got inside her room.

"That's right, babe. I got you...right where I want you." He tossed her onto the bed before crawling up to her body, kissing and nibbling at her neck. "If only these walls could talk..."

“Jungkook!” She hid her face in embarrassment, getting flashbacks of all the different things they had done in her room.

"Oh come on, don't hide from me now, Y/n." He kissed her cheek as he caressed her face.

"Do you remember the first time we fucked in this room?" Jungkook smirked and laughed. "You were begging for my cock, mama.”

“That’s not what happened!” She instantly denied.

Jungkook laughed harder, his eyes shining mischievously.

"Oh yes, you were mama don’t play! And when you finally got it you were screaming your lungs out. Kept going on and on about how it was the best sex you’ve ever had…” He continued, not giving her the chance to speak.

“This is so humiliating.” She groaned, hiding her face in embarrassment by flipping the blanket over her face.

Jungkook tugged the blanket down a little, showing her face again. "Don't be shy, Y/n. I fucking loved it when I made you scream my name. And made you cum on the first try?" He crawled on top of her again, his knees on either side of her hips.

“You’re so annoying.”

Jungkook chuckled. "That's not what you were saying when I had my cock in your mouth, babe."

His eyes glinted with amusement as he leaned down to kiss her. "I can make you forget all about your embarrassment again, if you want?"

“How’re you going to do that?” She asked, playing dumb.

Jungkook kissed her slowly, running his tongue along the edge of her lips.

He reached down between her legs and began rubbing, his touch firm and confident. "Do I need to give you a reminder right now?"

He immediately earned a soft moan from her, making him to smirk to himself.

Jungkook smiled mischievously, his fingers never leaving that soft spot between her thighs.

"That's a good girl. Just like that." He began driving his fingers in rhythm with his tongue, letting out a moan of his own. "Is this better, Y/n?”

“Mhm!” She moaned, nodding her head quickly.

Jungkook chuckled against her lips, picking up the pace at her small moan.

"You're fucking soaked, you know that, right mama?" His voice was low, amused. "Looks like I can still make you wet."

She could feel his gun pressed against her from his waistband. It drove her fucking insane with lust.

Jungkook felt her press closer, rubbing against his gun. He smirked at her before moving his hand, placing the gun in plain sight for her.

"See something you like, babe?" He said with a chuckle, twirling it around his finger.

“I-I feel it.” She croaked. She had always been curious about his gun in ways she never thought she was the type to fantasize about.

Jungkook grinned, setting it down gently. "Wanna touch it, babe?" His voice was low and inviting.

He took a step back, giving her room to move. "Just be careful, though. It's loaded." He teased.

She nodded quietly, “I do.”

Jungkook watched her grab the gun, letting you get a feel for its weight. He didn't interrupt, just watch her curiously.

"You like?" He asked with a smirk. "Don't tell me you have some kind of fetish for guns."

“I- um.” She swallowed, “Something like that? Well I’ve never done anything but— I’ve been curious.” She handed his gun back to him.

Jungkook took the gun carefully, his smirk growing into a full-on grin. "I knew it."

He whispered seductively. "Why don't we test out that curiosity of yours?" He suggested with a raise of his eyebrow.

“How?”

Jungkook pulled her a little bit closer, his free hand wandering up her side before resting on the edge of her waist.

"Do you want me to fuck you with it? How does that sound?" He smirked, unloading the gun in front of her. He places the gullets on her nightstand.

She nodded, letting a quiet ‘please’ slip from her lips.

Jungkook let out a low growl at her response, his grip on the gun tightening.

"You like that idea, Y/n?" He asked. His free hand wandered to the hem of her shirt, slowly lifting it upwards. "Lay back."

She didn’t hesitate to do so, laying back.

Jungkook bit his lip seductively as he looked down at her, the gun clicking gently in his fingers. "Fuck, yes." He said admiringly.

He bit his lip, placing the gun down in a position of reach before trailing his fingers lower and low on her stomach.

Her pussy was sopping wet with need. Her core aching as she watched the now unloaded gun in his hand.

Jungkook watched her with a lustful gaze as he heard her words, biting his lip again before placing the gun on her lip.

"You're so fucking wet for me already, huh? Mama so ready to get fucked with my gun huh baby?" He asked.

“So pretty Y/n.” His hand sliding lower still until he could feel her wetness. “Get the gun all nice and wet for me baby.”

She kept her gaze on him, spitting and sucking on the muzzle the gun like she was told to.

Jungkook groaned at the sight, glancing down at her almost hungrily. "Fucking hell you're such a hungry little girl, y'know that?"

Jungkook couldn't resist her whiny plea any longer, as he pulled the gun out of her mouth.

He lined the gun muzzle up with her entrance. He slowly slid the gun inside of her, gasping at the sight.

A gasp and an ‘oh fuck’ left her lips. Once adjusted, she instantly melted into the feeling, a moan leaving her lips.

It felt better than how she ever could’ve imagined it to be.

Jungkook groaned at her reaction, watching as he slowly slid the gun in and out of her.

"Fuck Y/n you're loving this aren't you? You're such a slut for my gun and I just now put it in you.” He chuckled.

“J-Jungkook” She moaned out his name, biting her lip. “Fuck that feels good.”

With her voice echoing his name, Jungkook lost control of his actions.

He began thrusting the gun in and out of her faster, even pulling her legs over his shoulders.

"Shit you like watching me fuck your pussy with my gun huh?” He spoke to her. “Been practically humping me for weeks. All that to get to my gun huh baby?”

It was so true.

Whenever they made out she would get super close and grind herself on the imprint of his gun. She almost could cum off just rubbing against it.

“Oh fuck yes!” She whined, “Jungkook I fucking love this.”

Jungkook loved her weak voice. Watching her squirm only made him plunge the gun faster.

"Looking so good taking it in. I wanna fuck you all day like this." He whispered seductively in her ear, sucking on her bottom lip.

Her wetness coated the gun, “F-Fuck oh my gosh” She whimpered. “A-All this time I— Fuck” She could hardly talk.

With the gun still inside of her, Jungkook grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him.

"All this time you wanted my gun? Every day I'd bend you over and plow you right... fucking... here..." He grunted. “But this gun was all you really wanted hm?”

“Mmm I— just wanted it so bad jungkook you don’t understand.” She quivered her lip.

A smirk appeared on his face as he began to thrust the gun harder and deeper inside her.

"I understand now baby. I know how badly you wanted it." He growled, grabbing her hips with both hands.

Jungkook smirked, thrusting the gun even harder, making her whimper. "You're such a dirty little slut for me. That's right baby, tell me how much you need my gun to get off.”

“Jungkook please— Feels so fucking good. Never had anything like this. Mm— such a slut.” She was rambling.

The way the gun was penetrating her made her whine with pleasure as it stretched her in the best way possible.

“Came so— so many times. Just from the thought.” She kept going. “Fuck— I was changing the sheets every damn hour”

His cocky grin widened as he pressed the gun deeper, his other hand traveling down to her soaked pussy.

He teased her clit with his fingers, "That's my girl. I want you soaked for me every damn hour.”

“Fuck— You’re killing me.” The double stimulation overwhelmed her.

"Is that too much for you baby? Can't handle it?" He chuckled, thrusting the gun harder, before pressing his fingers deeper, curling them to hit her g-spot.

She gasped again, gripping onto the sheets. “I-I can just— Shit it’s too fucking good” She cursed, grabbing onto her breast with her other hand.

"You love it, don't you baby? When I take control like this." He leaned down, pressing his lips against her ear. "I own every inch of you, and you fucking know it. Whether it’s my cock or my gun.”

She was milking his gun with her juices, whimpering and whining. The gun was fucking her absolutely stupid.

“D-Don’t think I can take any more.” She managed to get out, “W-Wanna cum on the gun”

Jungkook laughed, shaking his head as he continued to thrust the gun into her, pulling the trigger back twice.

The empty clicks filling the room, while he got to touch her throbbing pussy. "You want to cum, huh mama?”

“Jungkook please” She begged him to cum. The sounds of the empty clicks driving her insane.

“You're crazy mama. Absolutely insane." He groaned.

He pulled the trigger back one last time, hearing the empty click after he was spent.

“Jungkook please! I want to cum so bad!” tears of pleasure ran down her cheeks.

"You're more desperate than I thought." Jungkook grabbed her hair, pulling hard as his other hand began rubbing your needy little clit hard.

"Cum on the gun Y/n."

She didn’t waste a second, letting her juices flow and drop down the gun barrel.

He felt his cock twitch at her screams as she came, splashing hot cum all over his hand and the gun.

"Good fucking girl. Now clean this shit up.” He aimed the muzzle of the gun facing her mouth.

“W-What? You want me to clean it?”

“That's what I said." He replied with a snarl as he began stroking his cock again, dripping wet cum from the tip of it.

She obeyed him, sucking and licking her cum off of the gun. She dragged her tongue all over the barrel, looking into his eyes as she did so.

His hands gripped the gun tightly as he watched her sucking and licking her cum off. It was perverted as hell, but his cock was twitching again.

His eyes darkened, and he felt his cock twitch at her words, the sight of her on her knees with his cum mixing with hers.

"I know.." He purred as he pulled the gun away from your her. "Now come here. I got something else for you to suck.”

[ericscroptop]

Double Fantasy

✧ pairing: sneaky link/situationship idol! juyeon x fem! reader

✦ genre: smut w/ hints of angst n fluff

✧ warnings: 18+ (minors DNI), smut, cowgirl position, riding, unprotected sex (WRAP IT FOLKS), creampie, dirty talk, praising, pet names, cursing, kissing, marking, spanking, fluff, secret relationship, hints of angst, “star-crossed lovers” trope kinda-ish question mark so things are kept on the low under restrictions

✦ word count: 3.6k words

✧ synopsis: you’ve tried various positions with the lee juyeon. will you ever get to be in the position of being his official girlfriend or able to be a normal couple? or is that merely a fantasy?

✦ note: inspired by the weeknd’s song “double fantasy” enjoy! xo <3

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

“‘Atta girl. You do so good for me every time.” he praises as your naked form sinks down to take his cock. Your hands are holding dearly onto his shoulders while his own are stuck to either side of you.

He ensures you carefully sit over his dick, his head resting against your headboard, sighing wistfully. Taking him inch by inch and hearing those strained and broken, heavenly moans of yours is reminiscent of the last time you guys did it— and the time before that. And the time before that.

Your back arches and chest pumps towards his face, hissing while adjusting to his delectable, girthy length. Your cunt was well-acquainted with his cock, inviting him inside your hole every so often for a while now.

Even though your parts fit together perfectly, your thighs twitch and you have to take a breather. Being stuffed to the brim with his manhood takes a minute to settle into. Your walls tightly encompass his cock, getting him to throb at the awaited sensation.

In between schedules and even during hectic moments, you invaded his mind. You were his relief and breath of fresh air in the midst of his chaotic and bustling life.

Your nude body on top of his reminded him how real he is. That he gets to experience the rawness of molding together with you. Having this intoxicating moment behind closed doors, shielded from the public and cameras.

Right here and right now, only thing that mattered was fucking his special girl.

During this time, you had his attention fully and vice versa. All frustrations and tension from your personal lives and being apart was taken out in the form of erotic skin-on-skin contact.

Once his cock is gladly received and your walls ease up, you start playing with your favorite toy, rocking your hips slowly to get the friction you crave.

Your fingers rake down from his shoulders to his chest, holding onto the guy whose mere presence gets you short-winded.

“Missed me?” he mumbles, hands holding your hips and tracing the curves.

You leaned forward, tits hanging in perfect view for him while you rubbed against his pubic bone. In response to his question, you only moaned softly, overwhelmed with how stuffed you were and the way your clit sparked from the friction.

You also honestly were afraid to admit aloud that you did in fact, missed him. There was no doubt that he knew it was true, but saying it to his face was scary.

It’s silly, but this thing you’ve got going on with Juyeon was mainly physical. Even if you wanted more, you knew that request would be hard to fulfill considering his current career. It’s a miracle he even managed to make time for your hookups and keep this situationship under wraps.

He smirks at your sultry, sweet sounds. Your sounds aren’t a proper answer, but they still speak volumes to him.

“Yeah? Is that right?” he teases you for your needy mewls.

“I missed you and your sexy ass.” he uses one of his massive hands to smack against an ass cheek.

You gasp loudly and practically jolt, turned on by the sting and his confession. Your walls hug him enthusiastically, leaving him to groan and maneuver his hands to your back. He pushes you closer to him to begin kissing up your neck, letting his lips display how much your body did wonders to him.

Your neck angles automatically and his nice kisses turn more ravenous after each one. He’s keen on treasuring your body, pulling your skin slightly between his lips. He cups your skin with his mouth, nipping at it gently.

Your whimpers don’t stop, only encouraging him to keep going and drag his lips towards your chest. Those beautiful lip corners of his raise while he wraps his lips around a mound, suckling and tugging on your erect bud.

His wet, steamy mouth over your tit blows your breath away. The way he sucks and starts gladly licking your nipple inclines you to bring a hand to his hair, fisting his black strands and encouraging his behavior.

He takes a second to look up at you while he stops and moves on to your other breast. You see hunger and desperation through his orbs, communicating to you with his mouth and eyes how insanely crazy you drive him. It’s like it’s his destiny to fuck and worship your body nonstop.

Both of your parts throb against each other, turned on to the max. You whimper as he looks up at you while pulling on your nipple, your body twitching and subtly grinding over him.

Looking at him like this all for you ignites passion within. You’d allow him to do anything he wanted to you if it meant viewing that gaze, him itching with lust for you.

You’re basking in being pampered by Lee Juyeon. His blistering kisses, licks, and starved bites creates a roller coaster of emotions for you. You gleefully surrender yourself to him, and he enjoys the way your body responds to him when he makes all these moves on you.

He doesn’t have to think twice about leaving hickeys behind, leaving traces of him so you’d have something to remind you of him in his absence. The reddish-purple splotches also served with intent of his claim over you.

Yes, under circumstances, he couldn’t publicly flaunt you and show you off. But when you’re left alone for days and sometimes even weeks, his scent and marks lingers over your home and body. It reminds you that he has you hooked and possessed.

What a shame you’re unable to mark him as you please for obvious reasons. It’s too risky. You have to be extra careful with your mouth and nails. It really does suck, but at least you get to have him to an extent at all, and he’s never shy with the physical affection he brings you when you get together, being more than generous.

“Ride me, babydoll. Like the good girl that you are for me.” Juyeon breathes out, giving your tits a few more kisses.

You fucking adore more than you’d like to admit being called his good girl, so you do as told, raising your hands to hold onto your headboard, followed by raising your hips.

You lift yourself carefully, letting some of his length slide out of you before sucking it back in again. Gasps and groans release from both of you at the sensation.

Juyeon’s hands move to your rear, supporting you in your movements. You start repeatedly moving up and down with breasts, thighs, and butt cheeks jiggling and clapping over his body.

A delicious rhythm has begun with his support. His fingers press into your fleshy ass and his hands on your rear, not being able to resist grabbing your precious peach that fills up his hands. His weighty hands also serve as aid for your movements, working with your hips to glide your pussy walls over his cock.

Getting drilled by his cock and hopping like a bunny over it is mind-numbing pleasure for you. And for him, the sensation of his dick getting stroked repeatedly and penetrating you deeply thanks to this position is mouthwatering.

With you riding him, he has close access to every inch of you. He has a front row seat of your beautiful breasts bouncing and face that appears wrecked and out of it with every plunge.

His cock head hits spots that only he can reach and bless, leaving you two in a state of elated bliss.

He’s unable to keep his hands situated in one spot. They roam freely over your hips, tracing your silhouette and entranced by every inch of you. Parts of you that are usually covered are here for him to see, all for himself, admiring the body that you bear.

In every other bounce he smacks your ass, which in turn, riles you up and gets you even more turned on.

“Juyeon! Fuck!” you breathlessly moan, fingers curling hard into the headboard as you moved your hips in all directions. By this point, Juyeon is meeting your movements with upward thrusts into you and helps you bounce with the palm of his hands. Sweat pearls on his forehead and it glistens especially all down your spine from the desperate activity.

The sex only continues to stay intense, especially when Juyeon starts to practically growl. His thrusts become quicker and harder with him now doing most of the work. He’s relentlessly moving, indicating that he’s close to cumming.

Fucking you was such a high. Your gummy walls gripped his cock fittingly, like your pussy was made for him. He was hitting deep into you. Precum dripped down his tip and spread, creating a mess that mixed with your own arousal. Squelching filled the room alongside sounds of skin slapping, moans, and the bed creaking.

Your being provides a rush to Juyeon. He craved intimacy and a body to keep him warm. You were that body, a person who smiled genuinely when you saw him and asked and listened about how his life’s going.

The sex between you two was phenomenal, but your attitude and way you perceive him is the other part of why he keeps coming back to you.

There’s clearly trust and some sort of bond formed between you both. You kept this relationship, situationship— or whatever the hell this was on the low, protective of his idol life and respecting him.

He relies on you to bring him comfort in any way he needs it, and you give it to him willingly, happy to have him however and whenever you can because you may or may not have fallen in love with him. And maybe, just maybe, he has fallen in love with you, too.

It’s complicated really, to be involved with someone in his position. It’d be hard to have a regular relationship and to keep promises, his life being so on-the-go and unpredictable.

But he can’t stray away from you. It would be better if he let you be with someone else with consistency and he just have casual flings to satisfy his needs. But you two can’t let one another go. You make do with what works for now, and pray one another’s heart doesn’t get broken in the process.

When he’s around you, and especially when your bodies are connected like this, he’s reminded how much he has to keep you in his life. His escape from stress and the real world, the person who keeps him grounded and appreciates all sides of him, from all angles.

These emotional feelings towards you and physically getting his length actively stroked and gripped by your cunt swamps him in a warmth that starts at his lower belly and extends between his legs and cock base.

It’s all he can focus on, that red hot intense pulsing that’s begging to be erupted and relieved.

Juyeon’s tongue runs over his teeth, persistently driving his cock into you. Your mewls and cries from his efforts only charge him, leading his muscles to contract.

A blast of semen finally shoots up into you from his bloated head, followed by more throbs and squirts of cum until he’s emptied out. His head leans back from the electrifying bust, heavy-lidded, biting his lower lip with low grunts.

His hips stutter and movements are sloppy as his warm liquid fills you up. His swollen, hard cock pulsing and spewing inside of you has you swaying and squeezing his shaft.

It’s gratifying watching him cum, that you’re the sole reason why. He shudders and groans as he finishes and from you squeezing him due to being so aroused.

Your hands drop from the headboard to his flushed chest, smoothing sensually over it before hooking your arms around his neck and leaning forward.

You start reaching for your high, boning your hips into him, twirling over his dick that’s growing overstimulated and stimulating your puffy clit.

Desperate breaths and broken mewls leave your throat while Juyeon’s hissing from the sensitivity. Though, he encourages you to finish, talking you through it while groping and slapping your ass in between.

“Keep going, fuck.”

“I’ve got you baby, use me all you want.”

“Cum for me, babydoll.”

And then you break, mouth fallen open, releasing stuttered gasps as your pussy pushes against him. Your muscles are spasming and heart rate is reaching the clouds as you cream all over his cock.

The sensational pleasure that comes with climaxing puts you into a trance. He’s fucked you stupid, mind shutting down to anything that isn’t that tingly pressure releasing that makes you feel giddy and satisfied.

“That’s it, mhmm.” Feels good, huh?” A hand of Juyeon’s begins to rub at your back, his calming touch bringing you back down.

Goosebumps spread all over your skin and all you can do is pant, out of breath. You allow yourself to slowly fall on top of him, his cock now softening and still inside you. Your face digs itself into the crook of his neck, and he brings his other hand to the back of your messy hair, petting your head.

Your warm, sweaty bodies hug together, listening to one another’s irregular breaths and heartbeats make effort to go back to normal.

And for a little while, it seems like time stops. Juyeon’s presence and protective hold shields you like a blanket. He allows your mind to stay peaceful and dreamy, purely basking in him holding you in bed, naked bodies still molded together.

Once you’ve had enough time to come down from the clouds and regain clarity, Juyeon gently pulls himself out of you. The sensation makes you slightly shiver and hiss, and he tongues his cheek at the feeling.

It takes so much in him to not wanna shove his dick back in you when your pretty pussy starts leaking you guys’ mixed fluids. The sight makes him have to hold back a growl to not sound like such an animal.

Luckily, the long night ahead leaves room to spend time together however you liked.

You two forget about the outside world for awhile, too busy indulging in each other.

That consisted of showering together, plenty more sex, and sweet, long conversations that involved subjects like how he feels about the latest song he’s recently recorded for, and reminiscing his trips to Paris for fashion week— of which, has his lips curling subconsciously when he says things like “You would die for this one café I went to” and “Damn, I wish you could come with me next time.”

And you shared things about your life, too. Telling him stuff like your latest online purchase, and the tragic tale of dropping the pizza you tried to carefully take out of the oven the other day— that you still ate, of course!

It was all ordinary stories, small victories in your life recently, and silly jokes in between from you.

But Juyeon liked that. He listened attentively just like you did when hearing him speak.

Hearing you talk about what you had for breakfast or the long-awaited update on your silly family drama meant so much to him. You guys were catching up. Regardless of the contrast in activities and lifestyle, he cares to know about what’s going on with you, big or small. He’s just thankful that he gets to be with you.

You might feel insecure about how mundane your life seemed or worried that you’re boring him, but Juyeon is extremely fond of you. Whatever you said was important to him, because all that matters is that you’re conversing freely with him, together at last.

Before you know it, you two have passed out cuddled-up in your bed.

———————————————————————————

You don’t remember when you fell into slumber, or how long you’ve been out for.

It’s only been a few seconds since you’ve woken up, but what you do realize is there’s no body curled up and pressed against you anymore. The loss of Juyeon near you makes you moan tiredly, shifting loosely.

You worry he’s already gone until you adjust your eyes properly, seeing that his form is standing next to bed, torso bare and barely putting on his pants.

Your sounds and movements show that you’re now fully awake, so he turns to you, leaning over the bed to softly brush your hair.

“Hey, baby. Sorry if I woke you up.” he whispers, watching you rub the sleep out from your eyes, lips swollen, chapped, and pouted.

“What time is it?” your voice comes out low.

“Seven. I gotta get going.” despite his words, he fully sits down next to you, still half-dressed.

You adjust yourself to sit upright. Last night, he had told you that he had a jacket shoot early in the morning, followed by a movie premiere in the evening to attend the next day.

The part you dread greatly has come, where you bid goodbye. It was a set-routine at this point, but it never got easier.

It sounds dramatic, but your interactions with Juyeon were limited and not as frequent as you’d like it to be. His life is extremely demanding, and his personal life had to remain private to protect himself and the people he loves.

So, you had to grow accustomed to not hearing much from him for days, not seeing him as much as you’d like, and only being able to hangout within limited places like your house 90 percent of the time.

Having to navigate your relationship this way leaves a sour taste in Juyeon’s mouth and it worries him that he’s hurting your feelings, but you’re willing to make it work. You’ll always be here for him, supporting him and he’s aware of that. Which is why he feels shitty and blue every time he has to leave you.

You can never get yourself to tell him how much you’ll miss him or love him, so instead, you nuzzle your head against his chest, instantly wrapping your arms around him.

His own arms respond immediately, doing the same over your form. You give him a tight hug, and he just holds you in silence for a minute, wallowing in the comfort of each other.

“I’m still wearing your shirt. You need it back?” you speak up as you take note with your cheek pressing against his bare chest. After getting handsy and dirty with each other for a few rounds, he covered you with his shirt to sleep in, as he did most of the time.

Nah, keep it on. I’ll just grab a new one in the closet. You still have my other shirts here, right?”

You can’t resist in smiling at his words, knowing that yes, you did keep a handful of his clothing stored inside your closet.

What can you say, you liked wearing and stealing his clothes. And, Juyeon encourages it, too. He also likes leaving extra clothing behind here because even though he’s not able to be around as much as he’d like to and you don’t live together, this is still his home.

“Always.” you dotted a tiny kiss over his chest and he hums.

The small gesture and that singular word gives him the biggest urge to pull your lips towards his mouth to kiss you, and he does give into it.

He lets his lips do the talking of how his heart and mind feels, kissing you like there’s no tomorrow, profound feelings of attachment and attraction towards you behind the way his lips move with yours.

You cherish the kiss, just like you did any other with him, never seeming to get enough of him.

After unspoken feelings of love and yearn through kisses and glossy eyes, you two had to let go so Juyeon wouldn’t be late.

Reluctantly, you each let go, and he gets off your bed to walk towards your closet. You sat in bed, watching him while your figure and mind feels like it’s in defeat.

You bunched up the bottom of Juyeon’s shirt that you wear in your hands, clutching tightly onto something that belongs to him. Seeing him get ready to leave feels like a pin stabbing at your heart, deflating it until it collapses, left empty until his next return.

Juyeon is filled with guilt and feels like he’s abandoning you, but he hopes you know that there’s a permanent spot reserved for you in his mind. He’s always thinking of you, selfishly hoping you never forget about him, too.

Once he’s properly dressed, he steers back to you. You try to put on your best smile, trying to conceal the fact that you’re bummed that he always has to leave like this.

Juyeon knows you’re trying your best for him. As if to reassure you and make it known that he appreciates your efforts, he taps your chin with his thumb, getting you to look at him with those doll-like eyes of yours.

He tips down to press a kiss over that adorable bed-head of yours, savoring your scent. You melt under his touch one last time.

“I’ll see you soon, cutie. Okay?” he voices, giving you a small nod.

“Okay.” you whispered, eyes locking once more before he leaves your bedroom and finds his own way out.

You’re left alone on your bed that seems massive and lonely without him in it. You stare at nothing in particular, listening to him step out of your house, doors shutting and locking as he does so.

Now, all you can do is attempt to fall back sleep.

At least in your slumber, you can be closer to him inside your dreams.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

[luvst4rc0r3]

Sevika x Agegap!Reader PT.2

WARNINGS:Little suggestive at the end

WC:976

You’re the type of person who wakes up at full speed. Like, as soon as your eyes open, you’re bouncing around the apartment, making breakfast, humming random songs, and generally being a menace to Sevika’s peace.

Sevika, meanwhile, is not a morning person. She’s a “grumble into her coffee while glaring at the world” type of woman.

“Good morning, sunshine!” you chirp one morning, plopping onto the couch beside her.

She squints at you over her mug. “How are you like this at seven in the morning?”

“It’s called being happy to be alive, Sev! You should try it sometime!”

She takes a long sip of her coffee, pretending she didn’t hear you.

You also have a habit of waking her up in the most chaotic ways possible. Once, you tried to wake her by playing a trumpet sound on your phone at full volume. She didn’t even flinch—just pulled you into bed and trapped you there until you promised to let her sleep.

You’re always saying or doing something that leaves Sevika pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Sevika, do you think if I ran fast enough, I could jump across that rooftop?”

“No.”

“But what if—”

“No.”

One time, you got bored and decided to teach yourself how to juggle. You didn’t tell Sevika, so she walked into the apartment to find you throwing knives in the air like it was no big deal.

“WHAT are you doing?” she barked, immediately snatching the knives out of the air.

“Juggling!” you said, as if it were obvious.

“You’re going to kill yourself.”

“But it looks cool, right?”

She sighed. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

You love to tease Sevika about being older than you, especially when she does something remotely “old lady”-ish.

“Why do you always order the same thing at the bar, Sev? Is it a comfort thing? Are you stuck in your ways?”

“It’s called knowing what I like,” she replies, glaring at you.

“Next thing I know, you’ll be complaining about kids these days,” you tease, dodging the pillow she throws at you.

You also have a habit of calling her “grandma” just to see how far you can push her.

“Hey, Sev, want me to knit you a blanket? I bet your joints get cold in the winter.”

She gives you the iciest glare imaginable, but you swear you’ve seen her hide a smile.

The age gap means Sevika’s protective instincts are in overdrive. She feels like it’s her job to keep you safe, and she takes it very seriously.

“You’re not invincible,” she says after patching up a scrape you got from one of your harebrained ideas.

“No, but I have you,” you reply, grinning.

She mutters something about how you’re going to give her a heart attack one day.

If you ever get hurt, even if it’s something minor, Sevika goes full mom mode. She’s lecturing you while cleaning the wound, even though her touch is gentle and she’s clearly worried.

“This is why I tell you to think before you do something stupid,” she grumbles.

“But where’s the fun in that?” you joke, and she just sighs.

Sevika pretends like she doesn’t care about your antics, but she absolutely indulges you when no one else is around.

You want to go stargazing on the roof in the middle of the night? She grumbles but helps you climb up there.

You want to bake cookies at 2 a.m. because you “had a craving”? She’s half-asleep but still helps you find the flour.

You want to dress her up in ridiculous clothes “for fun”? She lets you. But only once. And only because you promised not to tell anyone.

You once dragged her to a carnival, and though she claimed she was “too old for this crap,” you caught her smiling while watching you try to win a stuffed animal at a ring toss game. (Spoiler: she stepped in and won it for you with ease. You still call her your hero for it.)

For all your energy, you have moments when you crash, and that’s when Sevika shines. She’s surprisingly good at taking care of you when you’ve worn yourself out.

She’ll scoop you up, carry you to bed, and rub your back until you fall asleep.

If you’re overwhelmed, she knows exactly how to calm you down—usually by sitting you in her lap and letting you ramble while she strokes your hair.

One night, you were feeling particularly insecure about the age gap. “What if I’m too much for you, Sev? Like, what if you get tired of me?”

Sevika immediately shut that down. “You’re a pain in my ass, but you’re my pain in the ass,” she said, pulling you into her arms. “I’m not going anywhere, so stop overthinking.”

She didn’t let you go until you fell asleep, and even then, she stayed awake to make sure you were okay.

Sure, Sevika grumbles about your energy, and you tease her about being old, but at the end of the day, you balance each other out.

You remind her not to take life too seriously.

She keeps you grounded when your chaotic energy gets the better of you.

And even though she claims to not understand your jokes, you’ve caught her smiling at them more than once. She may not laugh, but the fact that you can make her smile? That’s enough for you.

At the end of the day, Sevika’s your grumpy, overprotective girlfriend, and you’re her chaotic little sunshine. She acts like you drive her insane (and you probably do), but she wouldn’t trade you for anything.

“Sevika, I’m pretty sure you secretly love my energy.”

“I tolerate it,” she replies, smirking.

“That’s not what you said last night,” you tease, and she groans.

“One day, I’m going to muzzle you.”

“Good luck, gramps!”

Idk if I’ll write more fics abt this

I want food

[authorbriannarae13]

Mind of Mine // i just want to watch you take it off - joel miller

Joel Miller x female! reader

read on AO3 here.

summary; "You got 'nother one, sugar?"

Joel knows exactly how to get you wetter than ever. or this is the work you get when the author listens to the song 'TiO' off of the album 'Mind Of Mine' on repeat. for five hours.

warnings; smut (MDNI); unprotected p in v; oral (f receiving); mostly soft!joel; actually all soft!joel, so much praise

word count; 1.3k (it's my first joel fic, ok?)

-

You’re swaying to the music while Joel’s behind you, cooking as always.

He usually ignores you – not because you’re necessarily a distraction – but instead, because giving you the attention you crave doesn’t end well. For either of you. Last time he gave you attention, your wrists were secured to the headboard as he fucked your brains out, giving you too many orgasms to count and forgetting about the food.

Oops.

You live to be a tease, though.

It excites you too much to stop.

Mainly because it lets him plan how he’s going to punish you. Or praise you.

Whichever he’s in the mood for.

Based on his current mood – which is subject to change – he’s most definitely going to praise you.

And after the day you’ve had, it’s definitely what you need. Working for a publishing house can be stressful. And today was one of those days.

Good thing Joel loves to make you feel light – weightless, actually.

Not to mention how safe you feel. And when you feel safe, the softer side comes out.

Like all relationships, you just need to feel safe to show it.

“Darlin’,” his rough, Southern drawl interrupts your music, and you turn it off.

“Yes?” you ask, teasingly. Trying to rile him up.

But you never succeed. He knows you too well for that.

Turning away and holding a hand out, he murmurs a simple, “C’mere.”

So, you take it, letting him drag you and lift you up – right into his arms. Bridal style, of course.

You groan as your thighs clench, trying to hide your soaked cunt.

“Poor baby,” he murmurs, kissing your forehead.

“Fuck off,” you mutter while he carries you to the bedroom. Since he insists, he needs his fill of you before he can think about anything else – or dessert, as he likes to call it.

He kicks the door open and lays you down, playing with the hem of your skirt.

Your hips buck into his touch. He’s teasing you – you realize.

“Joel,” you moan as he hooks his fingers into your waistband, pulling your skirt down, and revealing the soaked black lace covering your cunt.

He pulls the lace aside, running his fingers against your swollen pussy, and he groans deep in his throat. “You’re fuckin’ soaked, pretty girl.”

Your brain goes blank as his index and middle finger both sink inside you, curling towards your g-spot.

“Fuck, sir.”

“N’ne of that sir shit tonight, baby.” He grabs your ankles, placing them on his shoulders as he sinks to his knees and licks a stripe up to your swollen - and aching - clit.

Your head falls back as your eyes roll into the back out your head. “Fuckk.”

You’re so close. If he would just curl his fingers against your g-spot just one more time, you’d be there.

He lets out a gruff chuckle that reverberates though your body as his other hand finds you shirt, pushing it up to find your nipple, pinching it.

That sends you over the edge. “Fuck, Joel,” you moan as the orgasm hits, crashing you into waves with each one more intense than the one before it.

His tongue doesn’t stop lapping at your clit even as you try to buck him off. “I can’t. I can’t- “

He cuts you off before you can repeat it again, “You can and will give me ‘nother one, sweetheart.”

“Fuck,” you groan as he pulls his fingers out, thrusting them back in while your back arches.

In. Out. In. Out. Your fingers curl into the sheets.

His fingers thrust faster as your thighs start to wrap around his head, trying to keep him there.

The second orgasm is faster than the first. You let out a silent scream as the waves rush into you for the second time in less than ten minutes.

“Good – fuck – good fuckin’ girl,” he groans, his tongue still swirling around your clit as the waves subside.

The strength from earlier leaves you almost immediately, making your legs fall. You’re boneless, but you also know he fucks you regardless of just how boneless you feel.

“You got ‘nother one for me, sugar?”

He slowly pulls his fingers out of you and brings them up to your mouth, “Taste yourself.”

You happily oblige, opening your mouth to take his fingers and tasting your cum mixed with his skin in a fucked up symphony.

His groan reverberates off the walls as you suck on his fingers – the same way you always have his cock. That’s when he starts to pull your panties down your legs, giving him better access.

Since that’s what this is all about, of course. And better access usually means better orgasms.

Speak of the devil – that shit must hurt. He looks painfully hard.

He interrupts your staring. “You like what you see?”

You slowly start to nod, but he slowly pulls his hand away, fingers leaving with a pop.

He leans down towards you, as you lean up and play with the hem of his shirt before you decide to pull it off.

Next is his belt as you hurry and rip it off, trying to get to his jeans.

“Woah,” he lets out a low chuckle, “’u’re a feisty one tonight, aren’t ya, beautiful?”

“No,” you whine as he starts to stop your frantic hands. “Just need you,”

“Where ya need me?”

“You know where,” you sass with everything you can muster.

“Need to hear ya say it, baby.”

“Fuck,” you moan as his jeans lightly graze your cunt. “Need you in me – fuck – now.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” he mutters, pulling his jeans and boxers down – as fast as he can. “’U’re g’nna be the death of me, pretty girl.”

“I – fuck –“ His thrust cuts you off as he bottoms out. “I live to please.”

“So I can tell,” is the hiss you get back while he waits for you to adjust.

“Move already,” you whine before you can stop yourself. “Break me for all I – fuck –care.”

He slowly finds the pace you’re accustomed to – hard and fast.

“Look at ‘cha. You’re takin’ me so well.”

Your cunt clenches around him as he continues. “Aw, does my good girl need to be reminded of how good she feels?”

“You-“ you start, “you keep doing that and I’ll finish faster than I ever have.”

“Good girl,” he purrs. “Is that a promise?”

“B-better be,” you stutter as his thumb finds your clit. Again.

“Fuck.” Your head falls back again. Everything is sensitive.

You’re not even expecting the orgasm when it washes over you.

“Good – fuck. You’re such a good girl f’r me, sugar,” he praises, not taking his thumb away.

“Fuck.” It’s somewhere between a moan and groan. “Fuck, everything’s so sensitive.” Now that’s definitely a groan.

He ignores you, continuing his praise. “Fuck. Good girl. God, Good fuckin’ girl.”

You softly whine as he slowly speeds his pace up, trying to find his own orgasm.

After more futile moans, whimpers, and whatever else he can pull out of you.

“Fuck, you’re g’nna make me cum so fuckin’ fast, pretty girl. Goddamn-“ And that’s when you feel his orgasm crash into him – violent and unforgiving.

The orgasm lasts so long that neither one of you can keep up with how much time has passed. It isn’t until he flips you two over, so you’re on top and he’s not crushing you, that you know it’s done.

“Fuck,” you softly laugh, pressing your ear to his chest and listening to his heartbeat as he holds you tightly. You kiss his chest while he hums.

“Poor baby,” he murmurs kissing your forehead, “u’re all fucked out, aren’t ya?”

“Maybe,” you tease while he gives you a look.

“Don’t lie to me, sweetheart.”

Eventually, after Joel made sure you were okay in every aspect, you two make your way back into the kitchen, attempting to get your appetite back after all that.

You’re standing behind him with your head laying on his back when you murmur, “I love you forever and always, baby.”

You can hear the soft smile in his voice when he says, “I love you more than anything else, darlin’.”

[ruggiezz]

— MOST TO LEAST LIKELY TO GO TO MCDONALDS WITH YOU AT 3 AM : twisted wonderland

[synopsis] twisted wonderland characters that would accompany you to mcdonalds at 3 am

[characters] all (romantic) + ortho (platonic)

[disclaimer] this post talks about food a lot and mentions of unhealthy food (in vil's and riddle's part)

[extra] i'm having way too much fun writing character's reactions

── Most likely

★﹕LILIA VANROUGE

Bold of you to assume he was sleeping in the first place. Lilia was playing the equivalent of Overwatch in Twisted Wonderland when you suddenly asked him to go to the nearest McDonald's. He agreed instantly, and now you're both on a date, with you eating fries and Lilia eating a strawberry sundae and a cheeseburger..

★﹕ORTHO SHROUD (platonic)

He agreed instantly. Can robots even feel tired in the first place? Ortho will search on the internet for coupons and promos, but first let him equip his eating gear; he wants to eat too. Everything for his best friend. By the way, he wants to buy something for Idia too.

★﹕ROOK HUNT

Rook got out of bed even before you even mentioned you wanted to go out, he woke up when he felt you were awake. Rook is a light sleeper; he can even feel when you wake up to go to the bathroom. If you really want a meal at McDonald's, who is he to say no? It makes him happy to see you happy, but he will stare while drinking his strawberry shake. Not a "I'm judging you" stare, but a "I like to see you enjoy your meal" stare.

★﹕MALLEUS DRACONIA

He has probably eaten McDonald's at least once because Lilia bought the whole of Diasomnia burgers. Alright, you're both going. Yes, he's still a little confused over why you would crave a really cheap burger at 3 am, but Malleus doesn't even care; the burgers are good and he enjoys indulging in human customs, plus he gets to see you smile. The only bad thing is that the employees got the fright of their lives when they saw the literal prince of Briar Valley enter the restaurant.

★﹕SILVER

Still sleepy, he agreed. There are times when he randomly awakes during the night, so he might as well spend it with you, even if it was at a fast food restaurant at 3 am. He'll order an iced coffee and some fries and listen to you while you speak about whatever comes to mind. You'll both have to make it quick though, he may fall asleep there, and you both need to get back before classes start.

★﹕DEUCE SPADE

He didn't even understand what you were saying; his mind was still foggy from being woken up so late. He said yes, not knowing what he was agreeing with, but a few minutes later he realized what he agreed to. Deuce, not wanting to have gotten your hopes up only for him to say no, got up and accompanied you anyway. He still enjoyed himself though, as long as he is with you, he's happy.

★﹕RUGGIE BUCCHI

He's tired because of how many errands Leona made him do yesterday, but you know what? He will still go. Food is food, and he could never refuse it. Leona lets him grab his credit card anyway, so order whatever you want, Leona will pay, even if he doesn't know that. It's not like he checks his credit card's expenses, so don't worry about it.

★﹕JACK HOWL

When he confessed to you a few months ago, he didn't expect that would mean signing up for you waking him up in the middle of the night, asking him to accompany you to eat fast food outside of campus. Still, he's your boyfriend, and he can't let you go alone, it's dangerous. Even if he doesn't feel like ordering anything, he will sit there with you until you finish your meal, chatting with you in the meantime.

★﹕ACE TRAPPOLA

You're lucky he loves you too much; he would have said no if you were another person. So now Ace is sitting at McDonald's, almost falling asleep while eating some nuggets. That one song they keep replaying will haunt him in his dreams; it got stuck in his head for like, a week. Riddle reprimanded him the next day for falling asleep during history class.

★﹕CATER DIAMOND

Out of everything he could have expected a person to say at 3 am, it certainly wasn't "I want to go to McDonald's". Cater takes a selfie with you inside and uploads it to his Magicam story, the close friends one, so Riddle doesn't realize he wasn't at the dorm. He still has no idea how you came up with this, but ok, it was for the funsies.

★﹕JADE LEECH

You're certainly unpredictable, aren't you? Jade stared at you for a good minute until he just got up, got changed, and went with you. Floyd has done weirder stuff during one of his mood swings; what harm can going to McDonald's do? He doesn't feel like cooking that late anyway. Just don't tell Azul you're both going to the competition, okay?

★﹕EPEL FELMIER

He had you repeat what you said twice to make sure he was hearing you correctly. You want to do what? Let him go back to sleep, please. Okay, whatever, he will accompany you, but make it quick. At least that's what he said before spending the next two hours chatting with you while eating. He sadly got caught by Vil when he came back. Rook snitched.

★﹕SEBEK ZIGVOLT

No, he has to make sure nobody attacks Malleus while he's sleeping. But with some reassurance from Lilia (and him asking Sebek to bring him a burger) and his love for you, he decided to accompany you. He'll ask for the biggest burger since he has a big appetite. He did enjoy it at the end; 10/10 would do it again (but he won't say that out loud).

★﹕KALIM AL-ASIM

He doesn't mind that you woke him up, and he would like to go, but there's a small problem: he isn't allowed to go anywhere without Jamil, which means he would need to wake him up. Jamil wouldn't be happy about that, and Kalim doesn't want to bother him either. So you both just order takeout and give the delivery guy a very generous tip.

★﹕IDIA SHROUD

Idia was awake, but he really doesn't want to go, and he's also farming for an event. Great, now he's craving McDonald's too. If you really want to go, you can have Ortho accompany you, but please bring him a chicken sandwich and some fries. You can use his debit card to pay.

★﹕TREY CLOVER

... What? What did you even dream about to crave McDonalds so late at night? Trey says you both can go on the weekend if you really want to, but go back to sleep, please. There's an important exam tomorrow, and you'll both be in trouble if you suddenly fall asleep in the middle of it.

★﹕FLOYD LEECH

He was not in a good mood after being woken up in the middle of the night. Floyd won't let you go, squeezing you so hard that you can't even move away from the bed. You're not going anywhere the whole night, and if you still want the meal, you can order some in the Mostro Lounge tomorrow.

★﹕LEONA KINGSCHOLAR

It's 3 am, what the heck. Leona says Ruggie can buy you some tomorrow; ask for as much as food as you want, but not at 3 am. He will fall asleep on top of you, so you can't even move, just in case you try to sneak out while he sleeps.

★﹕JAMIL VIPER

No, please, he's tired. He did so much work yesterday: laundry, cooking, folding clothes, tutoring Kalim, paperwork for an upcoming event, and preparing for an exam. He just wants to rest for at least a few hours. Go back to sleep, please. He promises he'll cook you a burger with some fries tomorrow. His cooking is way superior to fast food anyway.

★﹕RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS

"No, that's unhealthy", he says. Somebody buy him a happy meal or something, Riddle has probably never eaten fast food in his life. Either way, there's class tomorrow, and he would never forgive himself if he arrived late to a lesson. So no, you aren't going anywhere.

★﹕AZUL ASHENGROTTO

Why would you want to eat at McDonalds when he has a literal restaurant? Are you trying to buy from the competition? Now Azul is offended at 3 am, so offended that he dragged you to the kitchen to make you a meal resembling the McDonald's one just to prove Mostro Lounge's food is better.

★﹕VIL SCHOENHEIT

Excuse you? Not only did you interrupt his beauty sleep, but you want to go eat McDonald's'? It's 3 am, please go back to sleep or you'll get dark circles. Lack of sleep is bad for your skin, and he won't take the risk, much less to eat unhealthy food.

── Least likely

[feyhunter78]

Three Times Buck Wanted to Sleep with You (and the One Time He Did)

Description: Three times Buck had to hold himself back and the one time he didn't, (but it's not what he thinks, and somehow maybe better?)

Part 2!

Buck is pretty sure if he ever slept with you, Maddie would kill him, though she’d have to dig him up first because Hen would put him six feet under before he could even blink. So, he tries very hard to not sleep with you, and he’ll admit as the year has gone by and the two of you have gotten closer it’s gotten easier. He finds himself craving the sound of you laughing at his dumb jokes, your comforting presence next to him in the kitchen, or even just you bossing him around, more than he craves the feeling of your skin against his.

More than the idea of how good you’d look lying in his sheets, wearing nothing but his jacket. But then you do something. Squeeze his thigh in an innocent, friendly way. Groan his name in annoyance, or pout up at him when you’re trying to get your way, and the urges return full force, leaving him wondering if he can claw himself out of the grave Hen will put him in.

One: It’s only been a few months into his job, he's bouncing back from Bobby's second warning and forgivenss, riding high on the adrenaline. He’s only known you for six months and honestly Buck thinks he might be cursed, or maybe you’re secretly trying to make him suffer.

It's one of the two because he's pulled away from picking the perfect song to start his drive with by you banging on the driver’s side window of his jeep wearing nothing but a bikini top and incredibly short shorts. He rolls down the window, swallowing hard as you cross your arms over your chest, unintentionally pushing your breasts up.

“Buck, are you serious? You can’t just drive off without me.” You huff, adjusting the beach bag on your shoulder. You’re standing on the sidestep of his jeep, and it puts him face to chest with you.

“Oh I, uh, I thought you were going with Hen?” Buck says, trying not to stumble over his words like an idiot.

You look so good, it’s unfair, and that bathing suit top is cute, too cute for the way it makes his mouth water. It’s pink with white hearts all over it, your hair is pulled back, oversized sunglasses rest on your nose, your beach bag has some cartoon drawing of a margarita wearing sunglasses on it. But the worst part, the worst, are the light wash denim shorts clinging to your thighs. Fuck, he just wants to grab them, wear them like earmuffs until you’re trembling in his grip, and he’s drank his fill.

You shake your head, and lean on his windowsill, the scent of your perfume, or maybe that’s just what your skin smells like, suddenly overwhelming his senses, scattering any coherent thought he might have had. “She said there wasn’t enough room, Danny wanted to bring a friend with him. Didn’t she text you?”

Hen probably had, but he’s been so focused on psyching himself up to go to the beach with everyone, including you—without begging you to let him fuck you in a changing room—that he hasn’t even checked his messages.

“Yeah, probably, just been busy. Hop in.” He unlocks the passenger side door, giving into his impulses just enough to watch as you round the car, his dark sunglasses hiding the way he traces your every curve with his eyes.

You smile as you slide into the seat and buckle yourself in. “Okay, let’s go, beach time!” Your voice has a singsong tone, and it makes his heart melt.

“Beach time.” He echoes, turning the radio on to drown out the voice in his head urging him to ask if you want to take a detour to his backseat.

Two: It’s his birthday, and while the crew has made a big deal out of it, he doesn’t expect you to. Doesn’t expect you to be at his door with a cake, singing happy birthday, surprisingly well. The candles are lighting up your face in such a way that he feels like he’s in a movie, and everything is zooming in on you, only you, like he’s got tunnel vision, and you’re at the end of it.

“Make a wish!” You cheer, leaning on his kitchen counter, the cake between you two.

He bends down and blows, watching the flames flicker out in an instance, small whips of smoke rising then dissipating into the air.

“Twenty-six, it’s a big number, feel any different?” You ask, looking at him over the cake with your stupidly beautiful eyes that shine with genuine curiosity.

He cuts a slice of cake for you and then himself, putting them on paper plates and sliding yours across to you.

You catch it, and thank him, waiting for him to take a bite, or answer, probably answer.

“Not at all.” He says, taking a bite of the cake for good measure.

You laugh, “I doubt I’ll feel any different on my birthday either.”

“It’s in a few months, right?”

You nod, and take a bite of your own, moaning softly. “Oh, wow, okay, this cake is really good.”

Your moan goes straight to his cock, and he’s glad the island is between you two, blocking your view.

“Yeah, yeah it’s great, thanks again, you really didn’t have to get me anything.”

You lean on your elbow, giving him an incredulous look. “Of course I did, it’s your birthday and come on you’re like the first real friend—no wait that’s Hen, the first person to look out for—no that’s Athena, you’re a nice gu—wait that sounds bad.” You cover your face with your hands, laughing embarrassedly. “Let me start over.”

He laughs and takes another bite of his cake; it is pretty good. “Go for it.”

“Of course I did, Buck, not just because it’s your birthday, but because I wanted to. I wanted to celebrate you, and thank you for going out of your way for me when I first moved here and for changing the batteries in my smoke alarm and making me laugh when my dates end up sucking, and just being a good guy, that I can trust and count on.”

His heart is pounding in his chest, and his pants are growing tight. You haven’t said anything he hasn’t heard before more or less; you haven’t even said anything technically hot, but somehow, it’s different, it means more, has more layers when you say it. He pinches himself and tries to think about safe, nonsexual things, old books, his grandma, cleaning mud off the truck, white bread, cake, your little moan when you tasted the cake—nope, nope something else, think of something else.

You peek at him through your hands when he doesn’t say anything. “Sorry, that was cheesy, wasn’t it?”

He wants to say, no it was perfect, can you say it again while you ride me? Also, I think I do need to see a therapist because I’m pretty sure I’m getting turned on by emotional intimacy and that’s a new revelation for me. But he doesn’t, instead he skewers another bite of cake on his fork and gives you a teasing smile. “Yeah, a little bit.”

You pout up at him. “Rude.”

He bites his tongue to keep from bending to your will and bending you over the island, instead pointing out with a shrug. “You asked.”

You roll your eyes and take another bite of cake. "I take back every nice thing I said."

Three: He’s tasked with driving over to Athena’s precinct to pick you up. It’s not something he’s ever done before, but Hen slaps him on the shoulder and tells him to get there ASAP before someone gets hurt. He’s not worried about you, Hen made it clear you’re not in any danger, just that it was going to take more than Athena’s stern words to get you to stand down. He’s actually curious, you’re not one to cause a scene or argue with Athena unless you really thought she was wrong, and he’s seen that happen maybe twice?

Buck hates to admit it, but the scene he walks in on…turns him on.

“You know what? You’re just a greedy hack who preys on the hopes and fears of poor, innocent people. You want my professional opinion? You can go fuck yourself.” You snarl, holding your head high as you glare at some white dude with a tarot card tattoo crawling up his forearm, and a feather earring.

“Dr. Y/L/N, please, I have to ask you and Mr. Chester to leave.” Athena says calmly, jerking her head towards you when she sees Buck.

“No, I’m sorry, Sergeant Grant, but I can’t walk away when this conman is trying to ply your victims with false hope.” Your arms down by your side, fingers flexing ever so slightly, and you’re tense like you’re going to lunge at the dude.

“Conman? You’re a psychologist, we all know psychology is fake,” Chester scoffs.

Buck rolls his shoulders back; this is not going to be good.

You laugh, high-pitched and mocking. “Fake? Fake? You’re the fake. Fake as that earring, and your claims of studying with shamans in the desert. Newsflash asshole, I looked you up. All you’ve got is a clip-on earring and an arrest for public intoxication from when you and your little business major buddies did ayahuasca on the Santa Monica pier.”

Buck stifles a laugh, and Athena glares at him, urging him forward. He does as she silently asks and makes his way to you, raising an eyebrow when his eyes meet yours.

“You can't understand my vision quest, you weren’t there,” Chester shoots back.

You laugh again, and Buck thinks maybe it’ll be okay, but then you snatch Chester’s earring from his ear and throw it to the floor, the plastic clip breaking off and skittering across the floor. “This man is a fraud, ladies and gentlem—”

“Yeah, okay, time to go y/n.” Buck says, as he scoops you up and throws you over his shoulder, large hands keeping you secure as you try to wriggle out of his hold.

“Don’t listen to this charlatan, trust the good men and women of the LAPD they will help you, not some hack psychic!” You continue, and Buck can all but feel your eyes burning a hole in Chester as he carries you out of the station.

“Charlatan? What is this, the eighteen hundreds?” Buck snorts, his hands warm where they hold you, his skin tingling at the points of contact. You weigh nothing to him; it’s like holding a pillow, and the thought of how easy it would be to toss you onto his bed makes him bite down on his tongue.

“Shut up. That guy comes in all the time and promises the world, but he never delivers. I hate people like him, who take advantage of the vulnerable, it’s just not right.” You grumble, as he keeps one arm pressed against your legs while opening his car door for you with his free hand.

He gently sets you in the seat and buckles you in. “It’s not, but you can’t just try to fistfight him in the middle of a police station.”

You roll your eyes and smooth down your hair in the visor mirror. “I wasn’t going to fistfight him, I’m not crazy.”

“Sure, you weren’t.”

“Just drive.” You snap, turning away from him to look out the window.

“Someone’s a little bossy.” He jokes, putting his jeep into reverse.

You turn away from the window, fire in your eyes. “You wanna see bossy, I’ll show you bossy.”

Fuck, he wishes you would. He’d love to see you riled up and demanding, your nails scraping against his scalp as you yank his head forward.

“Maybe later.” He says, switching gears and driving away from the station.

The one time:  Buck rubs his eyes, groaning as he blindly reaches for his vibrating phone, it’s two in the morning, he just got home from a double shift, somebody better be dead or dying. He winces at the brightness of his screen and scans the multitude of messages, but it’s the most recent one that catches his attention.

Y/N: Need yuo come over?????!!??

He rubs his eyes harder, there’s no way you texted him that. No damn way.

Y/N: Buck

Y/N: Buck

Y/N: Evan Bucckely

Y/N: Come obrr

He sits up, dragging a hand down his face. Maybe you’re drunk? You’re usually a stickler for proper spelling and grammar. He goes to text back asking that very question when a voice message pops up. He turns up his sound and presses play.

“Buck please, you gotta come here, I need your help, I can’t do it by myself.” You whine, and all his blood runs south.

“Fuck.” He groans, trying to force himself to think about anything but what you might have looked like as you recorded that message.

“I need your skilled hands, mine just aren’t working.” You continue, and he bites down on his fist, all exhaustion banished. You sound so pretty, so desperate, so adorably needy, how can he ignore you, ignore your request?

He sends a quick text swearing he’ll be over in two minutes.

As he pulls on a t-shirt and sweatpants, he remembers how he thought it was a curse that you two lived in the same apartment complex. But now as he walks over, swinging his keys around his finger, he’s unbelievably glad.

Buck knocks on your door, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. Hey, he gave it a good run, a solid year of holding himself back and not sleeping with you. But when you’re asking him directly, he's not going to say no. It would be rude to deny you something you so clearly need.

You pull the door open and grab him by the collar of his shirt, dragging him to the couch and plopping down before placing your high-heeled feet in his lap.

“Well, hello to you too.” He says, resting his hand on your shin, admiring the smoothness of your skin. You definitely went out, the heels, the tight black dress, the makeup, you look stunning, and he’s practically salivating.

“I can’t get them off.” You pout, tugging uselessly at the straps of your heels.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ve got you.” He purrs, unbuckling one heel then the other before caressing your skin, his hands sliding higher until he grips your thighs.

Your eyes are slightly glassy, and you’re wearing the biggest, most adoring smile he’s ever seen as you sway in your spot. “You’re amazing, my hero.”

“How much you have to drink tonight, Y/N?” Buck asks, his training kicking in despite the lust that rages beneath his skin.

You clamor into his lap, looping your arms around his neck, the fabric of your dress riding up your plush thighs as you straddle him. “Buck, I thought you were a firefighter, not a cop.”

He chuckles and smoothes his hands down your side. “I am a firefighter, but I can also see you’ve been drinking.”

“Just a little bit.” You say, holding up one hand and pinching your fingers to show him how little you’ve had to drink. It would maybe be believable if you didn’t nearly lose your balance in the process.

“Oh yeah?” He hums, raising an eyebrow at you.

Your breath audibly catches in your throat, and you nod, “yeah.”

“Well, that’s too bad because I feel like you maybe had a lot to drink.”

You pout at him, and he bites his tongue to keep himself steady. You’re drunk, way too drunk, he’s not that kind of guy, he’s not going to take advantage of you no matter how badly he’s wanted this.

“Maybe a bit more than a little, but we were celebrating, and I haven’t gone out drinking in forever.” You stretch out the word forever, giving Buck a bright smile when he pats your outer thigh.

“Why don’t I help you get into bed, huh?”

You start to nod but stop yourself, the light dimming in your eyes as you begin to mumble to yourself.

Buck thinks he catches the words, but Maddie and places his hands on your shoulders. “Hey, hey, just to sleep, nothing else. You need to rest and let your body process all that alcohol.”

You nod, slide off him and onto the couch, laying back onto the cushions, your eyes already closing.

“Whoa, hey, not here, and not with your makeup still on.” He says, gently trying to get you to your feet.

“Too tired, carry me?” You ask so sweetly, he’s pretty sure he’d spend the rest of his life carrying you if you asked him to.

“Alright, come on, but you have to keep your eyes open, okay?” Buck says, slipping his arms underneath your form and lifting you from the couch.

“Okay, I promise…I will try.” You say, curling into him, resting your head on his chest.

That’s the best he’s going to get, judging by the way your breathing begins to even out, and your grip on his shirt loosens.

Now, if he spends some time gently cleaning the makeup from your face and waking you briefly so you can change into pajamas before carrying you to your bed, then no one needs to know that.

And if he stays by your side definitely because he’s worried about how hungover you’ll be tomorrow and definitely not because you sleepily insist, and he can’t resist you, that’s no one’s business.

And if he falls asleep in your bed with your head on his chest and his arm around your waist, his chest feeling weird, like he’s got butterflies or heartburn, then no one needs to know that either. He’ll just take the best sleep he’s had in a long time and deal with the consequences later.

No lie I have a whole /reader profile created for this man, just waiting to be unleashed

[diorcities]

heaven

── you don't need to imagine. you know it's true. they say all good boys go to heaven but bad boys bring heaven to you. haechan x afab!reader genre smut, tooth-rotting fluff mature content smut ver of this, domestic love, oral sex, riding, multiple orgasm, overstim, clit stimulation, nipple/cum play, unprotected sex, creampie, small convo during sex, love making, slight rough sex, petname (darling, baby), switch!hyuck, sweet aftercare wc 3k

author's suggestion for next reading: stargazing.

that was the night that it all began.

he crosses his arms as he leans against the wall, chatting with some guy just as handsome as him. dancing his eyebrows and looking so effortlessly alluring. he catches your eye. “who's he?”

“haechan.” among the bodies, he embodies sunlight. colored lights cascade down his face when he holds your gaze. you find out breathless.

“funny...” you hear yourself say.

haechan. you heard it before, in a dream.

the rise and fall of his chest under your cheek accompanied by the gentle beating of his heart made the same sedative effect of melatonin; hushed breathing and feather-light touches at midnight.

you could watch him sleep for eternity.

battling the sleep that closes your eyes and numbs your muscles —your fingers, drawing lines that connect his moles.

his lips in a pout are slowly kissed. imprinting the love and fond you feel, too heavy to carry on your own. his full cheeks. his jaw. the visible extension of his neck. everything is touched by you. only you. like cardinal points that you know by heart, by inertia.

“can't sleep?” his voice sounds distorted by sleep.

you hum in denial. “no.” you can't. not when you're full of love.

his lips display a soft and tired smile, “what were you doing?”

“nothing. were you dreaming?”

he opens one eye, curling his plump lips, “dreaming?” he mocks.

“you said my name.”

he smiles mischievously. “maybe i was, then. i was dreaming of you.”

you let the warmth envelop your body; you're made of liquid tenderness and longing. melted in the tangle of emotions that are still felt around, in the messy sheets, in the ghost of a body imprinted on the mattress, in the still disoriented parts of your mind. in your head, lost in outer space.

you feel your cheeks burning before he leans closer to kiss you. love-filled kisses each deeper and burdened. “keep doing it.”

“what thing?” you whisper quietly.

you feel his fingers stroking your hair, “nothing.” and an hourglass later. “i'm all yours.”

oh.

despite the space between your bodies. despite still feeling his lips in areas where only he has reached. to hear his favorite songs, to be able to recite them from memory now. staying up until the wee hours; you've never felt this close to someone.

haechan is bad. you say to yourself. your friends know it. your parents don't like him... but, but you know him. you know him thoroughly. deeply. and when the two of you are like this, so close, he looks just as an angel even though he's far from good.

you've always known the good guys go to heaven, but the bad boys bring heaven to you.

“what do you want?” he usually asks, with one of those sharp and alluring smiles; the charm of any gemini boy.

and the answer always remains the same. “your heart.”

and now your whole body is burning from the eternal craving.

“go ahead,” he whispers against your lips, “make me proud.”

you caress his stomach, and the breath he was holding up until that moment doesn't go unnoticed. he's so much of an expert. from the way he knows how to touch you, and how to make you see starts.

you want to be so tender. softer. you don't want to be like the other girls. you want him to remember you when he's with someone else. when he gets bored of your prudishness as everyone expects him to. if he does, you want him to imagine you when someone else touches him.

that's the promise you make to him. the curse you put on him.

you know where all his moles are, and when your mouth rests on one that you're sure he doesn't remember is there, a deep sound vibrates in his stomach and one of his hands brush the side of your face with affection. your cheeks light up from his sudden gesture, and coaxs you to repeat it, lower this time.

haechan swallows hard. face burning and tickling. opening his mouth when he feels you and everything explodes, and he can't control his face contracting into a eased grimace or his pulse pounding behind his ears when your wet mouth closes and takes him in it; he feels all the thick blood flowing down, and a hoarse, strangled groan reaches your ears.

it's soft. thick. you want to be sweet. his circumference doesn't stop you from treating it gently as it's so delicate; your mouth water at the feeling of tasting him. he's so sensitive even after you've done it a couple times before. you suck on his limb member, bobbing your head up and down, feeling the silky skin of his tip on your pouting lips. feeling it grow in your hand, where your palm stimulates his length while you lick the sensitive area of his cock.

he hiss affected by that, and moans loudly.

his cock is fully erect. bigger and pinker. with a coarse vein running the length of his penis, firm and heavy. your mouth starts salivating, you feel a hole open up in your belly before you take him again. the pit grows wider when it almost doesn't go into your mouth like before; it feels full. and you feel it pulse. your lips close around the base where haechan bristles. “just like that,” he coaxes, “that's my girl.”

your hand stays at the base as you turn the motion of your head against his cock. tongue stimulating his girth, passing it up and down, making circles on his hard length. breathing becoming deeper, his voice raspier. the sounds that fog up your ears exquisitely more audible. the way your mouth sits around him makes his thoughts become an incoherent jumble, where he can't talk you through properly anymore, “a-ah, darling. fuck—” incoherent sounds and elongated vocals that you steal every time you apply pressure where he likes. your pretty mouth on his cock, your cheeks puffing up every time you suck him, your lips on the tip of his penis when you pull him out and start stimulating him with your hands after leaving him glistening and sensitive.

you bite your lip as you see his slit fill with creamy liquid. you feel your body burn and your gaze become heavy as you stare at the clear fluid that comes out of it. mouth watering before you lean again and have a taste. “f-uck,” he breathes as he crumples the sheets into fists, buckling his hips into your mouth. his dick shoves all the way to the back of your throat and he whimpers breathlessly, “... baby.” suddenly with urgency. mouth half open while breathing sharply, he strokes your hair with care, and you pay back by exerting force against his length with your tongue.

“o-oh god—” his whole body shudders beneath you, “fuck, yn!” he jerks, his muscles tensing tightly before he explodes in your mouth. warm, thick cum pours out of his cock in pronounced pulsations. your mouth softens around him and receives his seed as your hand massages the soft skin of his shaft. tongue softly milking his tip until the last drop.

his cock falls heavy and languid on his stomach, gleamy and coated in saliva and cum. your mouth feels full of him, drooling from the corners of your mouth while you try not to spill anything, savoring it before haechan sees you slide it thickly down your throat. you see him catch his lower lip between his teeth, rosy cheeks leaving his beauty marks to stand out on his bewildered face.

his wild eyes see you waiting, the heavy air left by your forced breathing, sharpening as he sits up in bed and his fingers grab your waist. “good job, baby,” he congratulates you before his mouth attacks yours in a warm, debauchery kiss. both humming when his tongue steal the taste of his remains in yours, “my good girl, i'm so proud of you, baby. you want your reward?”

you find yourself being dragged into his lap as you feel enraptured by the friction that is generated when you sit on top of him. there's nothing in between when you sit on him and you can feel with every fiber his figure beneath you. legs positioning on each side of his body, a tremor whips over you as his fingers playfully brush against your thighs. all the build up of the night heating you up with barely nothing. “needy, baby?” he whispers, digits going dangerously to your core, “want me to take care of you?” your breath freezes when you feel him inserting his index fingers into you, a vast pit erupting inside you.

haechan twirls his digit before adding a second one.

your head starts spinning as you feel him sit them comfortably against your sensitive walls. “all wet and ready for me?” he coos, “by sucking me off?” his thumb taps gently your swollen clit and sends shivers down your stomach. something slips down before a throb assaults his fingers wrapped around you. “you make me hard again,” he breathes, rubbing your folds in circles while he rocks his fingers, delighted by your features contracting with each stroke. his free arm drags you closer, and you almost cry when his mouth takes one of your breasts and sucks your erect nipple. fingers removed from you so he can guide his tip to your needy entrance.

walls contracting when he slides with ease his dick so you could enhance the feeling of him burying in you. both breathing out at the overwhelming sensation, a moan escaping your lips by the way he fits inside, arms wrapping him as you take him all. your hips buckle forward to feel him in every nerve ending inside, mouth parting open when he uses his tongue around your aureole, flicking your tits.

haechan rubs your stomach, easing the tangling feeling that releases waves of pleasure through your bloodstream. “let's see how long it takes you to cum if i do this,” he says, using both hands to start rocking your hips back and forth, and while doing this, he kisses you softly. his mouth doesn't leave your lips as you immerse yourself in a desire so raw and intense that your body becomes liquid and your mind clouds over. your body is filled with a soft and fuzzy feeling, and you find yourself wishing you had something to soothe your soul.

“i love you, darling.” something like that.

your chest tightens and presses against the furious flutter that cuts off your airflow and suddenly you find yourself gasping as haechan rocks you on his growing erection and you feel stingers poking at your legs wildly, numbing the muscles around your femininity. “does it feels good?” he asks gently and you're too carried away of the pain that forms on your belly to answer immediately. your mouth only opens to let out a strangled whine. “o-oh, yes—” hands squeezing his flexed forearms, moving you in and out of his length.

haechan grows inside you and a spasm pulls your head back. his dick squeezes against your walls and fills you with exhilarating pleasure. he keeps moving your hips as you find yourself mesmerized by the way he buries himself in you. bigger. thicker. harder. haechan won't leave your waist while he tortures you grinding you against him with a steady touch, and suddenly it's too much; his kisses are too much, the way he grasps you, the way he whispers praises, the way his eyes don't leave your features, exploding until you feel light and numb, feeling your pussy burn when you start to pulse, stroking his cock rhythmically.

“done so quick, doll?” he asks mockingly, rubbing your thighs. a cocky grin blooms on his lips and you hit him lightly.

your hips inadvertently wiggle from side to side on his cock, a smile comes to your lips at the tingling followed by a jerking, awakening your senses. “...d'you feel the same way i feel this?” you wonder between gasps.

he's enraptured in the sensations that overwhelm him, “i do... you're doing so nice, hmm...” haechan lies back on the bed and pulls you with him, you find yourself straddling him, legs spread on each side of his hips, as you comfortably accommodate in the best position so his cock presses deliciously against your swollen, needy spot before you start rocking your hips picking up the pace. wet and lascivious sounds coming out of the motion of his cock sliding in and out of you, covered in your silky lubrication. pleased by the dainty moans that start to fill the room at the beat of your pounding. at the beat of your heartbeats.

you're already on the verge for nothing. carried away by the sensation of his thickness only. the way he stretches you out sends a pleasing feeling on your nerves and you accentuate your thrusts sharply and fast. haechan's hands shoot up and grip your waist, and the simple gesture sends the purest pleasure shooting through your system, blurring your vision, and filling your mind with dense, white noise. lewd sounds rhythmically synching with your hoarse moans, hands landing on his stomach for more balance as his head lolls back and his jaw clenches for the new angle.

you are completely possessed by the sweetness that spreads through your body. for the sedative sensation that fills your mind and blurs your gaze. “feels so good—” you breathe riding him with eagerness, with his cock wreaking havoc on you, making you unbridled like a madwoman and uncovering primal desire. your hands grip him when a sharp twinge shakes you and pleasure spills into your belly.

your lips squeeze together as the crushing orgasm leaves you gasping for air and agitated, shaking your body in waves of pleasant content as haechan holds you on top of him, taking every twitch of your pussy around his cock. his girth drives you to the brim as you ride your orgasm.

haechan opens his eyes in awe when you soon resume the motion on him. your body has become a bundle of spasms and tremors, unable to give you a break from the big pit in your stomach that threatens to shatter you. uncontrollable moans come from his lips in utter desperation, using his strength to mark the rhythm of your pelvis moving over him, cock lubricated by your arousal causing squelching sounds that join his whines. narrowed eyes in an anguished grimace that fades with one last thrust before a spasm assails him and he begins to slow down, moves becoming sloppier as he reach his high.

your body rises on his stomach, feeling his soft cock slide out of you, the sensation of something coming down before his belly is covered in tiny beads of cum. your sensitive walls are still widened by his girth, you feel your body tremble at not having him inside you.

haechan blinks slowly, trying to shake the lethargy out of his body. his hands gently caress your sides as he moves slightly beneath you in an involuntary stimulus. his tired eyes watch you staring at him intensely.

“more?” he wonders, chuckling, lolling his head back onto the pillow. one of his hands leaves your waist to take his cock and guide it towards your entrance. “are you sure?” you tap him gently in his stomach, feeling him stuff you again. your arousal slipping out of you, soaking your thighs and the extension of his crotch and stomach makes it easy for him to slide in. “mhm... just be gentle,” he whispers, before closing his eyes at the sensitiveness.

it takes you a while to get moving again. feeling haechan back inside of you. a comfortable sensation glides down his length, fills your swollen walls with warmth. stretching over his cozy body as you feel your muscles relax and tingle when you feel him hit that sweet spot inside. a sound comes from his lips and your legs tremble. it feels so good. “you feel amazing,” he coos, “so good, and perfectly tight.”

you begin to rock your hips back and forth. your body feels light as you move over hin, letting out breathy sounds of how good it feels. fire spreading down your legs as you perceive the sweet burning in your intimate area. feeling his fingers burn as he massages the swollen, tender lump on your clit, releasing waves of pleasure that shake your body and delight haechan's eyes. totally possessed by the sharp pain that plagues you, moving so painfully slowly over him, inducing the purest desire. “f-uck” you whine, fingers poking at your sensitive nipples sending electricity down your belly. your pussy pulse sharply.

haechan twitches under you, and the movement causes it to bury his dick deeper.

you hear him hissing, “shit,” he whispers with labored breathing before you can feel the bulge inside you grow and become stiffer. your breath gets stuck in your throat at all the sensations that come your way. his hands now control your waist and you let him change the speed of the thrusts. all your senses squeal and become cluttered by the sensation that begins to grow in your lower belly.

haechan growls and his eyes darken, filling your body, seeing you on top of him, possessed by the way he's fucking you. his cock starts tickling when your stomach contracts, your body goes numb and feels heavier and heavier. a hole opens in the mouth of your belly, and you feel it painfully descend to your intimate area until it explodes and leaves you shattered.

your body is strongly moved by him when he shifts you under him. hands grabbed by the wrists above your head feeling him bury every inch of his cock inside you, before he starts thrusting you with quick and merciless movements. your legs stretch and spill out on the bed as your mind shuts down from the devastating sensations that take over you. “hae... ngn.” you can't stop whining as your whole insides collapse and suffer an unbearable feeling that haechan provoked by his thrusts. raw emotions that explode when his lips adjust to yours and he kisses you, feeling your whole body burn and buzz before a white noise takes possession of your senses.

an awl freezes you before letting you writhe on his cock erratically, feeling the tremors take your breath away as you feel him jerks, covering himself in spasms that fill your abused cunt with his hot seed, as he whines loudly. eyes closed tightly at the white noise that fills his mind, as the scorching orgasm leaves you moaning with joy. a stroke of bliss embalms you and you find yourself smiling at the crushing pleasure that comes in waves as you sense his cum sliding down your clenching walls.

haechan lets out one last guttural sound before going still as his cock pulsates less and less along your cunt. his fingers massage your clit some more until the pleasure completely undoes you and you become a hissing mess.

you feel his kisses on the crown of your head as your heart begins to beat slower, beating along with his. so out of breath, and tired. his body is loaded with sleep and love, and when you look at him with your little eyes shining, he can't help but smile. your lips affectionately touch his before you pull away to clean your mess, but halfway through he stops you to come back to him and kiss him deeper, “let me have a taste” he says. eyes gleaming “i bet you taste as sweet as you look.”