#It's good to have a relationship founded on friendship or did we forget | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

venusiangguk · 2 years ago

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the art of trying | jjk (m)

>>pairing: jungkook x reader / dilf!jk x grocery store clerk!oc

>>genre: friends with benefits, smut, angst

>>word count: 29.3k 😁

>>warnings: dom jk, sub oc, age gap, oc club era 🪩🥂, oc heart to heart with…, enter mr park seojoon !!, budding friendships 🥰, mending of relationships, enter dilf !!, reconciliation finally, but still we yearn, and jk is still a little stewpid, however!! he is doing his best!!, mostly oc pov i think, warning for a little bit of sad bc she is sad !!, but not too sad 😼, enter jock !!, dilf jk stuff: asking for permission, saying thank u, etc., fore play in the form of a lil dry humping 🫶🏻, finishes (multiple),, oral (m & f), dirty talk, lovesick gross smitteness 👎🏻, jreampie 👍🏻, and finally, enter nari !! (🧋)

>>notes: finally am i right 🤣

this is part of my dilf jk series that can be found on my masterlist

>>summary: you’re trying to forget jungkook, but he’s trying to make sure you remember why you shouldn’t.

It’s the middle of January and I haven’t learned to be okay without you, yet. The wind outside is harsh and cold. It hurts my feelings sometimes.

It reminds me of you, sometimes, too.

I still miss you.

“Girl, what does that even mean?”

Your laptop gets slammed shut, and you whip your head around to see Binna. Your very best friend that has been caught red-handed, reading over your shoulder.

“Do you mind?” you say with narrowed eyes.

“I do actually,” she says, walking around the couch and plopping next to you.

You roll your eyes and rephrase with something she’s hopefully less likely to have an answer to. “Can I help you?”

Binna looks stumped for approximately .4 seconds –not nearly long enough to be satisfying– and then she’s saying, “No, but you can help yourself. Please go to therapy. I am begging you and also I will pay for it.”

“Die.”

“C’mon, you’ve been sad for like almost 2 months,” she groans, “and it’s like… tangible, ___. I walk into the house and I can feel it. It just permeates the air and– look, it even killed the plant.”

Binna’s pointed finger guides your gaze to the small succulent on the windowsill and it’s a bit pathetic how your eyes start to tear up because it is in fact, the tiny succulent Jeongguk gave you so many months ago. You had done a good job of taking care of it for a while, his occasional texts reminding you to water it had been helpful. But lately you haven’t even really been taking care of yourself, and the little plant has, unfortunately, become collateral damage.

You also don’t get those texts anymore.

With big watery eyes and a fat bottom lip, you turn back to her and she sighs. Grabs the remote and pauses whatever is playing on the tv. This makes Jade squawk, something about her watching it and it being the best part but Binna is having none of it.

“No, this is actually dire. She’s crying over the plant, Jade. We have to intervene, it’s time.”

Jade pouts for a moment, looking between the tv and you as if she can’t decide which is more pressing. When she crawls from her place where she was laying on the floor to your feet, it seems her decision is made. She rests her chin on your knee.

“Still sad over the dilf?” she asks.

You nod pitifully.

“She was openly writing melancholy about him… it's a public cry for help,” Binna adds.

With a nod of understanding, Jade says, “Writing can be a good way to get your thoughts together and work through them.”

Choosing not to tell them that you don’t think you’ll ever be able to work through all the thoughts because there are just too many and it hurts too bad, you stay quiet.

It’s not an awkward silence that takes over the living room, but you can tell that Binna and Jade are trying to think of something to say. Jade ends up being the one to interrupt the quiet.

“Has he reached out to you at all?”

The unanswered text on your phone started as a temptation, but it’s ended as a little memo that helps put things into perspective.

Did you get home okay?

Jeongguk made his decision and he only sent you that text because he let you leave.

He sent you that text after he made it so incredibly clear that he wasn’t going to let you stay in his life.

Despite you telling him you’d think about things, let him know what you decided in regards to you and him– he really didn’t leave much room for you to do that. He’s hard-headed and he’s extreme and when he makes his mind up about something… it’s not likely anyone will be able to change it. Especially if it has to do with Nari.

And it’s not like you don’t get it. You do, to some extent at least.

Nari is his baby and Nari is his priority. Just like she should be. That’s self-explanatory and easy to understand. If Jeongguk felt you being in his life somehow messed with his priorities and decided it wasn’t going to work out between you two after giving it some thought– it wouldn’t have been easy, but you would have accepted it nonetheless.

But part of you believes he didn’t give it much thought at all because one moment he was washing you, taking care of you, kissing you. Making you feel like you were his and he was yours and like he cared. Like he was always going to be there; like he was endless.

Then the next he was telling you it was all basically a mistake to him. That he didn’t know if he had the room or the time for you anymore. Like you were an amenity with a timeframe. Something that was worthwhile, until it wasn’t anymore. Something nice that was momentarily useful, something that perhaps made his life better, easier in a way… but something that ultimately wasn’t necessary.

The turnaround was too abrupt and too abrasive and too rash for you to accept that it wasn’t impulsive. That he truly thought it through. You think that’s what’s hindering you from moving on.

A part of you almost wishes that you could fool yourself into believing he did mull it over. That he simply ‘changed his mind’. Because that’s better than the uncertainty that comes with him cutting you out so heedlessly.

If Jeongguk had a change of heart– it means that, at one point, his heart was sure of you; his heart did want you.

It’s deceiving, but it hurts less than the uncertainty.

The ache that comes with longing for what was is concrete and irrefutable in a bittersweet sense because at least in that case, what you’re yearning for was something that you had; something that was real.

You can’t pinpoint the pain that comes with uncertainty. There’s too much room for doubt, too many times you can mistake a ‘what if’ for a ‘what was’. There are too many ways you can spin the past if you’re not certain of it. Too many different outcomes you can craft. There are too many ways that uncertainty can hurt

Jeongguk’s 180 took place barely within a few hours. Specific changes were instantaneous. Like the quiet unease that shrouded the atmosphere; the quick developing doubt that inevitably tainted both your affections. In all honestly, you could feel the shift as soon as he walked into the playroom after talking to Nari’s mom.

Dasom.

The things you feel when you think about her make you feel so ugly. Like your heart is rotten within your core, ruining you from the inside because it’s so easy to blame her and resent her for everything that occurred. Easy to pin the earth-shattering, tectonic shift in your and Jeongguk’s dynamic on her. It’s easy to hate her for the things she said about you, for the thoughts she put into Jeongguk’s head. But deep inside, right next to your rotten heart, there’s something small that’s telling you it’s easiest to hate her because you aren’t her.

An achy heaviness levels in your gut and you press your eyes shut tightly, consciously making an effort to not tear up. It still hurts so badly. In a way you don’t even really understand. You’re not sure if it stems from jealousy or insecurity or maybe both.

But there is something so excruciatingly painful, something that feels so devastatingly unfair, about Jeongguk and Dasom.

It’s absurd and it’s stupid to let an ex get to you. You know that and you’re aware that it’s the past and that it’s over between them… but when you think about all of the history? It’s enough to overthink and compare. To wonder ‘what if?’, ask yourself ‘why?’ and ‘does he still?’.

Because they loved each other; were in love with each other. They had the sweetest little baby girl together. Dasom will always know Jeongguk in a way that you won’t. She will always know versions of him that you never will. She will always have a part of him and be a part of his life. She will always know him longer than you. No matter what –even if you and Jeongguk had stayed together, fallen in love, and gotten married– she was still there first. In a sense, you won’t ever be able to catch up to her– to them or what they had.

You almost have to laugh at yourself for thinking like that because it’s so pathetically dramatic and pointless. Because yes, letting an ex get to you is both absurd and stupid. But especially so when you let it get to you after months.

Bitterly, you consider that maybe Jeongguk was right. Maybe you were too young for him, and maybe you really weren’t ready for everything that came with him.

When your thoughts are reeled back in, you tell Jade about Jeongguk’s text you never answered.

“God what a whore,” Binna groans. “What kind of person asks that after cutting you out of their life?”

“A man,” Jade reasons.

It makes you chuckle a small laugh, and the silence that settles this time is a little more comfortable. A couple of minutes pass with the three of you pretending to watch Jade’s show when Binna clears her throat.

She tries to keep her voice light and casual, acts as if she’s just making conversation. “You’ve been lurking, no?”

She will be disappointed when you admit that you’ve tried. But she’ll also be pleased to know that you simply can’t.

“He doesn’t have Instagram.” You shrug your shoulders as if it’s not a big deal and like your recently searched isn’t full of accounts that have some variation of Jeongguk’s name in the user.

“He probably has Facebook, he’s old,” Jade says absently, eyes glued to the television once again.

Binna gets a worried look on her face when she can physically see the lightbulb go off in your head. Then her expression shifts into one of tired disapproval. “Thank you for that, Jade.”

Jade’s reply is simply a preoccupied, half-hearted ‘My bad’.

But you do not care and your phone is already out.

You’re trying to move on, you are. Truly. One peek won’t hurt. Also–

“He’s not old, he’s only 29,” you say distractedly, waiting for the app to download before the phone is promptly plucked from your hands. “Hey–”

“Give me that,” Binna interrupts, “If you look him up, you will come up in his ‘people you may know’. I don’t want that for you, and you don’t want that for you. Trust me.”

With a frowny pout on your face, you settle back into that couch. “Well… I don’t want you coming up in whatever that is either, right?”

“You do not need to worry about that because I am a professional and I am crazy. What’s his last name again?”

Professional and crazy sound like adjectives that are not supposed to go together, but you don’t argue and when she pulls out her own phone, you answer her.

Binna’s sleuthing seems to be entertaining enough for Jade to abandon her show, moving from her place at your feet to a seat next to Binna looking over her shoulder. Nervousness keeps you from joining, quietly just waiting for the few moments it takes for Binna to find what she’s looking for.

“Ah! Jeon Jeongguk, 30, C–” she gasps, eyes wide as she looks at you, “you didn’t tell us he was a CEO!”

You shrug. “Didn’t seem important. And I told you already, he’s 29. Not 30.”

Binna’s brows furrow before she’s looking at her phone again, bringing it close to her face and using her thumbs to zoom in on the profile picture. “Is this not him?”

“No, that’s him,” Jade confirms, face close to Binna’s. “I’ve seen enough pictures of him in the groupchat that I also see him in my dreams.”

“Please don’t dream about him,” you say musingly, reaching to snatch the phone from Binna just like she did to you.

It is in fact your Jeon Jeongguk pictured on the phone. His profile picture is candid, him smiling wide with those puffs under his eyes, probably mid-laugh. But it still seems professional enough, he’s in one of his many expensive suits, with his tie on, and his hair done sleek.

And you can feel how a small, sad smile comes to rest on your lips. You carefully click on the picture to see when it was posted.

Just a couple of weeks ago.

And the small, sad smile gets even smaller and even sadder. He looks happy enough, and you hope he is. But it stings a little for some reason.

Then you remember why you pilfered the phone in the first place.

Looking over his profile, you see the basic information. His alumn, his job, his hometown. You click the ‘about info’ option below all of that and it’s then that you see his birthday, and that his age is indeed 30. And you feel silly, a little embarrassed, for not knowing. Or maybe forgetting?

Though, you’re almost positive you didn’t forget. That you wouldn’t have forgotten something like his birthday. That you couldn’t have because Jeongguk was your favorite person.

You trade Binna her phone back for yours.

The photos in your camera roll on his alleged birthday are from what you thought was a random day that Jeongguk asked you to come over.

It was kinda spontaneous for him. Considering he was someone that usually liked to plan, getting a random phone call from him while you were still at work was out of character. He simply asked if you wanted to come over. Just laze around with him, watch a movie, or something. Stay the night, maybe. He sounded slightly boyish when he asked, like he was trying to mask the hopeful excitement in his voice. You told him yes, of course, but that you wouldn’t be able to come until after work.

When you showed up at his, still clad in your work uniform, he was beaming. You barely made it through the door before he was literally giving you the shirt off his back to change into, helping you out of your polo and khakis.

In the photo you’re looking at, your head is in Jeongguk’s lap and he’s shirtless looking at the tv with his hand over your mouth. You had been purposefully asking too many questions, just like you always did. The picture was taken from below so the angle is a little funny.

And even though you’re smiling at the memory, the image turns blurry as you start to tear up. Something about it warms your heart while simultaneously breaking it.

Apparently, he didn’t want gifts, or anything extravagant. Seeing as he omitted telling you it was the one day of the year that everything was supposed to be about him, the one day he was supposed to be doted on. Jeongguk just wanted to be with you. Just your company was enough for him. Just you were enough for him.

“He never told me it was his birthday, but he asked me to come over,” you tell your friends, with your thumb swiping through the many pictures you took that day. “Like me just being there was a good enough birthday present or something?”

Jade can hear the waver in your voice, and she gently says, “Maybe we shouldn’t look at old pics if it’s going to make us sad, hmm?”

“Maybe we should delete them, hmm?” Binna chirps.

You hear them but you continue till you get through the whole night and the next morning. The tears are so heavy in your eyes, but you try to laugh, dabbing at your waterline with your sleeve when you say, “I like– really miss him, guys,” before you end up just covering your face with your palms and letting yourself have your moment.

Jade coos, scooching closer to you, pulling you to her side. She rubs your shoulder soothingly. “I know you do, ___,” she says quietly.

Your roommate has really come a long way since the first conversation you had with her about Jeongguk. The other roommate, however, seems like she is regressing.

“We have got to get you out of the house and onto another dick. Your vibrator is tired and your pillow probably smells like the ocean because of all the tears it’s soaked up. It probably needs a wash, too.”

“Binna!” Jade scolds.

“No, like I’m so serious right now,” Binna defends, “I understand being sad over a breakup, but it’s been months. And over a grown man who lets his literal ex-wife, whom he divorced, still have such a pull on him? Like c’mon. What the fuck is that?”

“She’s allowed to be sad! And those things you listed make her sadness even more warranted. You were holed up in your room for months too, at one point,” Jade reminds, “But it was over a boyband breaking up.”

“In hindsight, it was very good for Zayn to leave,” Binna amends before giving you her attention. “Listen I get it, but I just want you to be happy again… You know?”

When you peek up at her with a sniffle, she looks sad.

“I don’t want you to get stuck in the sad and the hurt, ___,” she says quietly, “because sometimes when people get stuck in the sad and in the hurt, they can’t like– get unstuck. You know? Nothing gets better. The depression just swallows them and they don’t ever feel better and– I want you to feel better.”

Binna’s not the most eloquent, but she has the biggest heart. And you know she means well, and despite how stuck in the sad and the hurt you truly are, you know that she does have a point.

You have to brood over it for a moment, and you kind of feel like you’re outside of your body when you agree. Like you’re hearing someone else say, “Okay, where are we going?”

~~~

The club lights are too bright and strobing too fast, just asking for someone to seize. Your feet hurt because the heels you’re wearing are too high. You figured the weeks following New Year’s would be less crowded, that everyone would be recovering from blackouts and bad decisions. The sheer number of people around you tells you otherwise. You’re not having a good time.

When you tell your roommates as much, their response is handing you a shot. A few shots.

And since alcohol is essentially magic, with every shot glass that is emptied down your throat, the night grows more enjoyable and less likely to be remembered. The lights turn pretty, and the ache in your feet becomes dull and muted, just like the one in your heart.

You’re dancing how a person who doesn’t know how to would. Hips swaying, arms occasionally going above your head before slinking back down and over your body. The bass in the club makes it feel like everything is vibrating and it makes you laugh dumbly, eyes squeezing shut as you giggle to yourself. You know Binna and Jade are close by, but it feels like you’re in your own little world.

“I feel good,” you yell over the music to no one in particular. Eyes still closed, a loose-lipped smile lingering at the corners of your mouth.

The warmth of a body can be felt behind you, though it’s not quite pressing against you yet. It doesn’t feel bad, and neither do the fingertips ghosting along the curve of your waist. You press into the touch, the heat, a little more. A chiffon chuckle is puffed over the crown of your head. The tentative fingers at your waist get more firm, their grip trying to steady you.

“You look good, too,” the body behind you says, lips brushing the shell of your ear. It makes chills prick at your skin.

You bite your lip to keep from smiling at the sensation, at the words. Your hand goes to cover the bigger one on your waist. You intentionally keep the touch constant when you turn around in their hold. Their palm slides along your body till it’s settling on your lower back just above the swell of your ass.

When you look up, your reply gets caught in your throat.

The owner of the warm body behind you is handsome, strikingly so. Tall, strong. Smile dreamy, and eyes dark. He gives you a soft grin accompanied by an encouraging nod, wanting you to say what you can’t seem to get out.

“Uh–” you sputter with a wince, before clearing your throat, “I– yeah, um… thanks, you too.”

You can’t hear his laugh over the music, but you can tell he’s amused by the way his chest rumbles, and how his eyes curl. The hand at the base of your spine moves to your hip, squeezing gently.

His other hand is moving, too, and your track it till it’s tucking some hair behind your ear. You go still and flush when he leans down to your ear again. “I’m Seo-joon,” he tells you.

Introducing yourself is the automatic reply he gets, and he hums, eyes scanning your face. The hand that tucked your hair trails down your arm until his fingers meet yours. They flirt for a moment before they lace together. His movements seem shy, but they’re actually very calculated. Well practiced. Like he does this a lot. Like he knows exactly how to get what he wants.

The realization sobers you some. Not enough to clear all of the drunken fog in your head, but enough to make you vaguely more alert.

“I think you’re a… a little too good at this for me, Mr. Seo-joon.”

Seo-joon briefly looks surprised, eyes widening like a child who’s been caught in a lie. Then he’s recovering, laughing. “Ah,” he muses, guiding your arms to drape over his shoulders, your hands interlocking behind his neck. His hands do the same around your waist as he pulls you a little closer. “I don’t know, you might be the one that’s too good? Too smart? Read me like an open book.”

There’s a flutter in your tummy that you haven’t felt in months and it’s exciting. Makes you giddy as you blink up at him sluggishly, eyelids heavy.

“Are you not?” you ask him, coquettishly referring to him being easy to read. “Aren’t you here for the usual?”

He looks up like he’s thinking. Then he’s shrugging, like there’s no point in denying the obvious. Crowding your space, cheek brushing yours as he talks into your ear again, he asks, “And why are you here, ___? The usual, as well?”

Seo-joon doesn’t move out of your space like the times he did before, instead pulling you into him a bit more, making your space his space too. Lips brush against the corner of your jaw, just below your ear. Teasing, yet sure.

“I’m here to forget–” Your hand twines into the hair at the nape of his neck when he nips softly at your earlobe, making you gasp quietly, interrupting yourself. “–about someone.”

He lets out a smug sound of understanding. “That’s about as ‘usual’ as it gets, ___,” you hear him say, before he purrs confidently, “Let me help you.”

And when he molds his lips to yours, you expect the kiss to feel as good as the lead-up.

You expect the butterflies in your belly to flutter wildly– not go still. You expect the hands roaming over your body to feel rousing– not misplaced, like they aren’t supposed to be there. When you open your mouth to let him lick inside, you expect it to feel right. But it doesn’t. Sure, it doesn’t feel wrong, necessarily. But it doesn’t feel like it should. He doesn’t feel like he should.

But you want him to. You want Seo-joon to feel right, and you want him to feel good. You want it so badly that you go home with him.

~~~

The cab ride is nothing but a precursor– something that needs to happen but not something that needs to be remembered. It’s just a soft blur that prequels his soft bed, his soft kisses, his soft pets.

Seo-joon is being gentler than he was at the club.

Under the hazy hue of the club lights, the strong hands that tugged at the straps of your dress were confident, cunning, audacious, and assertive. Boldly expectant of the outcome he was so sure he would get.

Under his sheets, those same hands are… not exactly timid, but ginger with their eagerness. Delicate, imploring, coy, and suggestive; tactfully encouraging, rather than expecting, the outcome that he hopes for. The way his hips brush against yours is unhurried and intentional. The crass, dirty movements from before that were careless and unrefined are long gone. Now he’s patient. Grinding into you slowly, deliberate.

However, the change in pace, in the scenery, and in his demeanor– none of it makes the kisses taste any sweeter; none of it makes the touches feel any better; none of it makes anything good enough in the effortless way you long for.

It’s counterintuitive but the lack of ease, paired with the desire for it, just makes you try harder. Redouble your efforts.

You press your lips against his in a kiss that’s harder, dig your nails into his shoulders with a grip that’s harder. When you cant your hips up against his just so– you do it harder. He gets a little harder in his pants, and the thoughts in your head get a little harder to ignore. Faking gets harder and pretending does too.

Seo-joon is smart enough. He’s probably been around enough, too. With experience under his belt, it doesn’t take him long to sense the shift. The way your energy dulls, the slight tension tugging at your frame underneath him. But still, it doesn’t stop him from testing the waters one more time, giving you a few more unsure, assessing kisses.

To no avail.

With furrowed brows, he pulls away. Seo-joon doesn’t look angry, though. Just confused as he braces himself on his forearms, lifting himself just enough to be able to take you in, most of his body weight still resting atop you.

He clears his throat. “You don’t uh– you don’t really… seem to be– into this? Anymore? Into me?”

Your expression probably mirrors his. Confused, and maybe a little lost as you study him. Because he’s handsome. Almost unbelievably so, with his high cheekbones and sharp eyes; his nose and mouth that appear perfectly placed; his smooth, airbrushed skin.

You should be into him. Superficially at the very least.

But you just aren’t because even though he is handsome, flawless even, he’s attractive in a very ordinary, classical way. There doesn’t seem to be anything signature about Seo-joon’s features.

When he smiled at the club, it was idyllic and exactly symmetrical. His cheeks filled out, but just enough. His teeth –a dentist’s dream– were pristine, perfectly proportioned, and all of them just the right size. So white that they were almost beaming in the dim lights.

And even now, when he attempts an uneasy one to shake awkwardness it’s… fine. His plush lips are fine and his straight nose is fine and his even brows are fine and everything about Seo-joon is perfectly fine.

But, to you, he’s not really anything special.

Surface level, Seo-joon’s perfectly fine. But so are so many other perfectly fine, classically beautiful, ordinary men. There’s nothing that sets him apart. No defining characteristics, nothing about Seo-joon that makes him him.

Yet you can’t stop yourself from thinking that even if there were, it wouldn’t matter.

Because you already know what makes someone special to you.

You’re well aware of the distinctive features that make your heart flutter. Like when someone smiles and their bottom lip tugs down just a hint farther on the left side. Or when they get little rounds under their eyes and scrunch their nose when they laugh. When he has things about himself that are slightly imperfect. Like big front teeth or a barely off-center freckle under his bottom lip. Like the deep scar on his cheek that he got from his brother when they were little. Or the faint one by his eyebrow from the piercing he had in college that had to be taken out before it was yanked out by a tiny hand.

The man you’re sharing a bed with could be the most uniquely attractive person on earth and it wouldn’t make a difference. It still wouldn’t make him special– not to you.

He’s not what you want.

You hum when you admit it to yourself.

“I’m not.”

Momentarily, Seo-joon looks taken aback by your seemingly rash rethink, but he takes your drunken bluntness in stride. He gives you a forced smile before he hangs his head in an apologetic bow, shifting from on top of you to lay next to you. “I see, I’m sorry if I assumed or overstepped or made you feel like you had to come home with m–”

Seo-joon sounds guilty, and it surprises you when a hint of guilt starts to bloom in your chest.

“You didn’t!” you interrupt, “I thought I was into you… or like I should be into you…”

His eyebrow quirks and he just looks at you.

“Ah…” you muse awkwardly, scanning the room.

It’s so very bachelor. Dark furniture, a big tv mounted on the wall, a little bar cart off to the side next to the mini fridge that’s kinda big to be called ‘mini’. Nothing personal at all that could tell you anything about him, except the boxers on the floor that tells you he prefers Armani. No hint as to what his goals or his hobbies are.

Perhaps it's a good thing you didn’t sleep with Seo-joon. Guys like him have the most brutal post-nut clarity and you’re not sure you could take another grown man hurting your feelings.

“I just don’t want you to think like– I don’t know? That you did something wrong? Or that you like coerced me into coming h–”

“Wait, I didn’t think that–”

“–I’m the one that should be sorry!” you assure him, “Because I don’t think I actually went out to try and forget someone; I think I was trying to find them?”

A couple of stilted seconds pass.

“In… me?” he asks, like he’s mentally trying to puzzle the pieces together.

“I guess? Maybe replace them with you? Or like… use you… as a placeholder?” You wince helplessly at your choice of words, unable to stop them before they spill out.

Seo-joon’s confusion is replaced by a quick, bright laugh which is followed by a small smile that seems almost pitying.

“You’re still young–”

You physically cannot stop the way you interrupt him with.

“Please shut the fuck up.”

The tired words are spat tartly before you can clench your teeth around them. It’s probably a defense mechanism– you’re not quite sure you can handle another grown man being mean to you, but you’re almost very sure that you can’t handle one lecturing you about how young you are, about how much life you still have left to live, about how your youth makes it difficult to know what you really want, about how–

“Whoa,” he laughs. He’s on his side, his head propped up on his palm. He eyes you for a moment before he tugs the strap of your bra back up, haphazardly covering you again. “Sore spot?”

Pulling his sheets up for good measure, you pout. “He was older.”

Seo-joon makes a noise of understanding. “Older like… older brother’s friends older? Or older like met him at your dad’s work party older?”

Heat floods the rounds of your cheeks and you look anywhere but at the man next to you. No photos in frames. Not even a dvd collection that could tell you what type of movies he likes.

“He’s like– dad old,” you murmur, chancing a glance at Seo-joon only to see him pull a queasy-looking face, and then you’re backtracking to defend yourself. “But only like baby-dad old! Not like– teenager-dad old!”

He looks unconvinced. “How big’s the gap?”

“7 years?” you try.

Seo-joon goes from unconvinced to shocked and then to puzzled. “That’s like… nothing? Probably around our gap too?”

Your hands fly up and you scoff a little as you exasperate, “That’s what I said!”

He joins in and you both laugh in his bed until the giggles putter out into lazy silence. You’re pulling at a little tuft of lint when he hums.

“He told you that you were too young?”

You open your mouth to reply immediately, but then hesitate.

Because your age was part of it. Of course, it was, but was it all of it? Was it the root of it?

“I mean you are; not too young, just… young. But–” Seo-joon grins smugly, giving you a pointed look when he sees you scowl, “–youth isn’t a bad thing. And you’re smart. I meant it when I said that.”

Rolling your eyes, you say, “We literally just met–”

“Yeah, and?” he counters, just for the sake of it because he still doesn’t allow a reply. “We only just met and I could already tell that you were smart. Even though I tried, I knew my… methods wouldn’t work on you. You read me like an open book,” he repeats what he said earlier that night, before speaking slowly like he’s spelling something out for you. “and I’m sure I’m not the only one you’re able to read like that?”

Your scowl intensifies. “What are you getting at?”

“This boy you’re trying to ‘forget’? ‘Find’?” The hand that’s not supporting him comes up and he makes some air quotes. His tone is a little softer, like maybe he’s trying to be gentle. Or maybe he’s just tired of talking to you. You can’t be sure.

“I feel like you’re smart enough to know if the whole thing is worth it or not. How long ago was it?”

“A month or 2… give or take 17 days…” you mumble, avoiding his gaze.

“Okay. But yeah… that’s a good chunk of time…” he says around a quick yawn. Then he hums thoughtfully to himself. “I feel like you could think back and read the situation a bit more clearly now? Like, reassess it to… you know… I don’t know just figure stuff out…”

“‘You know, I don’t know’, ‘Just figure stuff out’, ” you mimic dryly, “That’s all the advice you have to offer me when you’ve lived lifetimes longer than me?”

“Listen, you can’t hate all men because of one man–”

“Yes, I ca–”

“Okay but, you don’t even hate that one man? That’s the whole issue?” Seo-joon interrupts. He lilts his tone up in an inquisitive manner, like he wants you to confirm.

You refuse and choose to reply with petulant silence.

“Exactly. C’mon, use that big, smart brain in that pretty, little head of yours,” he encourages, “Look back and just figure stuff out. It might be hard, but not as hard as you think. I feel like time away from what we think we need or want, always puts things into perspective. Distance makes the heart fonder, or–” He pauses for dramatic effect. “It makes the heart indifferent.”

Not rolling your eyes is a feat, but you manage. “Clearly my heart did not become indifferent if I am laid up with you and still going on about it.”

Seo-joon hums again, carries on some more. But you’re not paying attention because maybe time didn’t put things into perspective, but his words just did.

Distance and time make the heart indifferent.

Jeongguk hasn’t been to your store once since you left his house.

You frown, connecting imaginary dots as a little wrinkle sprouts between your brows. “He hasn’t come to see me since he cut things off.”

Seo-joon pauses mid-sentence, mimes your expression. “Did you expect him to?”

You pause now.

“Um… kinda?” you start. Rolling to your side you copy his position so you can look at him. “I mean, I work at the grocery store he would normally shop at,” you explain, before tacking on, “That’s where we met. He lost his baby and I found her… Or– she found me I guess.”

A small twinge of pain pricks your heart at the mention of Nari. You wonder if she’s talking, or if she’s at least getting closer. If she still doesn’t keep the sock on her left foot, or if she’s grown out of that nerve-wracking yet endearing little habit of hers.

What Dasom said about Nari getting attached comes to mind and you hope the little one is doing well. It hurts a little to think about, but you hope for her sake, that she didn’t get too attached or too sad when you stopped coming around. You hope she forgot you quickly.

“Anyway,” you say, “Guess that means his heart became indifferent.”

Giving a half-hearted shrug with a single shoulder, aiming to come off unbothered. Trying to act indifferent yourself, and like your heart didn’t just drop. You blink a couple of times in an attempt to clear the glassiness you know is cloaking your eyes and offer a weak smile.

Regarding you with a slightly concerned color to his features, Seo-joon chooses to not address the passing mention of a misplaced child or the fact that you’re very close to crying while half-naked in his bed. Decidedly, he says, “I’m not sure if I would call avoidance indifference.”

You sniffle. “Huh?”

His eyes narrow and he looks like he’s debating something internally. Then he sighs. “Listen, I’m not trying to encourage you to wait for him or go back to him. Or like… give you false hope–”

“Gee, thanks–”

“No really,” he stresses, “because that genuinely could be nothing. Men are a bit dense. They do things that may seem calculated, but in actuality, they’re just daft and it didn’t even cross their mind. But in my opinion,” he continues slowly, a bit hesitantly, “Choosing to not go to the grocery store he –I’m assuming– frequented regularly? Right after a breakup?” He sucks a bit of air in through his teeth before he shakes his head. “Yeah, that seems like a very deliberate choice.”

“Like indifference would be more–” he continues before pausing briefly to choose the right words, “I picture indifference as more of– him still going to your work, despite the breakup, because he just doesn’t give a fuck.”

Whatever words you were planning to say get caught in your throat and you cough out a short laugh at Seo-joon’s straightforwardness.

He grins a little. “Right? Because that’s what it is– a lack of interest, lack of concern. Like he just doesn’t care one way or the other about you being there because you’re not important enough for him to be affected by you.”

You know he’s speaking in hypotheticals, but it still sours your expression. Makes your lips pull down at the corners.

“Personally, if I were him and I was truly indifferent, truly unbothered,” he places his hand on his bare chest, “you being there or not being there wouldn’t be significant enough for me to alter my routine.”

Your eyes flit quickly over Seo-joon’s torso. His gesture causes the sheet to fall slightly, pooling at the subtle curve of his waist. There’s a faint warmth flooding your cheeks as you swiftly and intently bring your gaze back up.

You swallow before replying with a simple, “Ah… yes… that makes perfect sense.”

Playfully, Seo-joon scowls at you. “You sure you don’t want to fuck?”

“Yup.”

“It may help–”

“Nope, don’t think it will actually.”

He shrugs, an amused grin still lingering. “Suit yourself–”

“I feel like your post-nut clarity would hurt my feelings and I’m vulnerable right now.”

It’s silent for 1, 2, 3 seconds before Seo-joon’s loud laughter echoes in his room. Failing to keep a straight face, he rolls on his back and rests his head on his pillow as he lets himself laugh to his heart’s content. Then he inhales deeply and scrubs a hand over his face and swipes a finger beneath his bottom lashes; catching his breath and regaining his composure and wiping away the wetness under his eyes.

A few seconds pass before he’s turning his head to look at you with a quiet smile. It feels a bit too tender, too sincere, and too heartfelt, for what was supposed to be a one-night-stand.

“See,” he says softly, “told you you were smart.”

You just look at him, trying to read him like he’s so sure you can. There doesn’t seem to be any ulterior motives, just him being genuinely kind to you because he wants to be. And for some reason that makes your eyes burn.

“If it doesn’t hurt too badly to revisit everything that went on with the boy,” Seo-joon begins, interrupting the light hush that settled between the two of you, “I really feel like you’ll be able to see things clearer; read the situation better. Figure stuff out. And then, things will start to fall into place for you. Everything will start to make a little more sense. You’ll know if you’re wasting your time being hung up on him, and if it’s worth your happiness. You’ll know if looking for him is worth the effort, and you’ll be sure that ‘finding’ him is actually what you want after all.”

You’re definitely going to cry.

“And when I said you were still young, and that your youth wasn’t a bad thing,” he continues, “I meant that if you decide that you do want to look for him, and you do find him again– you still have enough time to try with him again.”

With a wobbly bottom lip, you feel your features slowly morph into a scowl.

It’s self-directed because it’s then that you think about what’s happening and how ridiculous it all seems.

Because why are you on the tail end of being drunk, half-naked in the bed of a grown man who you met just hours ago? Why are you telling him bits and pieces about the person he was supposed to distract you from? The person that caused you the most delicately painful ache that’s been festering for months? Why are letting this man give you advice? Why are you letting him comfort you? And why does it feel like he’s done a better job of it by just listening to you for the last few hours, than friends you’ve had for years?

And why do you feel like you’re going to cry about it?

The self-directed scowl morphs to a Seo-joon-directed glare.

“He’s not a boy,” you begin in a voice that shakes just a hint, arguing just to be difficult, “he’s a man with the cutest baby and he’s 30 now and–” The urge to cry cuts you off and you feel the first tear leak from the corner of your eye.

Seo-joon’s soft, sincere smile turns slightly sad as he tracks the salty drop. “Hey, don’t cry–”

“Shut-up,” you spout, your tone somewhere in between short and like you’re begging him to be quiet because it was him speaking that brought you to this state in the first place.

A short staring contest ensues.

“Also– I bet you would’ve been the worst fucking one-night stand,” you add on for good measure.

Seo-joon’s ability to keep from laughing is impressive. It’s only for a second that an amused smile overtakes his features– a natural reflex he isn’t able to stop. But it’s barely there at all before he’s schooling his features into something that he hopes looks receptive, like he’s taking in what you’re saying, absorbing it like it’s Gospel.

But he’s also a curious motherfucker, and he wants to know why you think that.

“That is baseless and an unfounded assumption,” he defends himself, because he may be receptive, but he is also a damn good one-night stand. “With that being said, please tell me why you feel that way.”

“Because I’m crying! And it’s because of you! You and your making of us bare our fucking souls during pillowtalk! Who does that?!”

It’s huffy and snippy and you both know you’re being mean just for the sake of it.

With lips pressed into a tight, smile-proof line, Seo-joon nods easily; agreeable and understanding.

He knows you’re fragile and that you’re tired– so he chooses not to voice how he considers what you talked about very surface level. How he thinks you may be more hurt and affected by whatever took place between you and this guy than you even realize yet. How he feels like you still have so much to work through, so much to learn.

Seo-joon lets you win and reminds himself that, right now, it’s not his job to help you soothe the things that hurt or fix the things that are broken. Reminds himself that you’re smart enough to figure stuff out on your own.

There’s a brief lull in the conversation that’s not as awkward or tense as it probably should be.

You sniffle. Then you hiccup.

And Seo-joon laughs, loud and brash and fond as he leans towards you. He gives you what feels like a platonic kiss on your forehead.

“Can I get your number?”

~~~

It’s an early Thursday morning in late January and Jeongguk is feeling troubled. Plagued, if you will, as he towels off after his morning shower. Plagued with the ever-growing, ever-evolving urge to check up on you. To see how you’re doing.

Lurking, as Taehyung calls it, doesn’t happen all that often. Jeongguk makes a point to not let himself do it daily. Or even weekly. It was his New Year’s resolution, in fact. That being said, it’s been exactly 12 days since he’s used his friend’s 8-year-old son’s instagram account to see what you’ve been up to.

Typically, he can talk himself out of the sudden notion. Put it off until he forgets, or just doesn’t feel he needs to so badly anymore. Currently, however, he’s blaming his inability to nix the restlessness in his fingertips on the fact that he hasn’t had Nari around to keep him busy. It’s been a long week.

Because Jeonggk’s been doing his best to keep himself from opening your page for what feels like days. Resisting the pesky pull even though he doubts you’ve even posted. Out of the times he’s given in over the last few weeks, he thinks you’ve posted maybe once. And it was just a picture of some clouds at that– vaguely heart-shaped, wispy, white puffs against sky-blue. The caption was just two emojis, the wind-face lady next to the white heart.

So frankly, even though he’s not exactly keen on how strong and itchy the urge to check on you is– he’s also not exactly sure why he’s fighting it. Not when merely scratching it isn’t going to change anything.

After shrugging on his work blazer, Jeongguk admits defeat– his inner demons having won yet again. He resigns to apathetic, easily accepted complacency as he swipes through the pages on his home screen till he gets to the very last one that houses the small, sunset-colored camera app. He figures he should probably just get it over with.

As he touches the application open, Jeongguk reasons that he’s just been putting off the inevitable– that he knows an itch can’t be ignored and that it won’t be quelled until it’s scratched or soothed. Tells himself that a quick peek before heading out for work won’t matter.

As he clicks on the mini magnifying glass at the bottom of the screen, Jeongguk reminds himself of lurking’s insignificance. Thinks back to all the times he’s done it before and how it never made a difference.

As he sorts through the random selection of 8-year-old boy searches till he finds your user in the mix, he reassures himself that checking on you won’t do anything but alleviate the nagging in the back of his head and the tingling in his fingertips.

As he taps your profile, he convinces himself that lurking will be relieving and nothing more.

As Jeongguk sees that you have posted, he realizes that this time, lurking does matter and that he is so very stupid for assuming it would bring him relief.

The picture is blurry, not unlike a handful of others he’s seen on your feed.

But the setting captured is new. The pink-tinted lighting isn’t familiar, and neither is the purple and blue hues. The crowd you captured is much more… abundant than what he’s become accustomed to seeing when he pulls up your page.

Jeongguk scans the photo for just a bit longer and then swipes to the next one in the post. This one is the final stupid nail in the coffin of Jeongguk’s stupid demise. The couple shot glasses grouped together in blurry cheers are all the confirmation he needs to know exactly where you were. His eyes flick to your caption, and then his features pull into a pensive frown with furrowed brows.

BUT FOUR DRINKS IM WASTED !!

Jeongguk taps open the comments.

flickthebinna: you’ve had exactly two (2) shots

ocstagram: i am Wasted !! 🤬

jadedjade: can u let her be wasted and focus on getting our drinks @flickthebinna 🤨

He can’t help but chuckle at your and your friends’ interactions, but as he closes the app he catches himself doing a certain habit of his. The little tick where he tilts his head and juts his jaw out quickly. His telltale sign of irritation.

Irritated with himself, of course. Partly because of the obvious. The spying (from a child’s social media account nonetheless), the moping that he’s been doing for months, the procrastinating and avoiding that’s been going on for almost just as long.

But also because he feels so embarrassingly immature for allowing what he finds out from the spying to affect him so deeply. It seems so very juvenile to get this worked up over an instagram post.

He’s irritated at the emotional rush and the way his hands are shaking. At the way his mind is jumping to conclusions and conjuring up all sorts of sour scenarios. He’s irritated with himself for the way unwarranted jealousy burns in his chest.

The irritation stews; sits in the passenger seat as he makes the drive to work– right next to the sudden instinct to act on a restless whim. The irritation festers; accompanies the worsening impulsive urge that makes it hard to think and ultimately pushes him to make a wrong turn.

The irritation is only sated when he pulls up to a curb and his car comes to a stop.

Jeongguk’s irritated with himself for a lot of things. But mostly because it took him so long to get here.

~~~

He’s not sure why he anticipated you answering the door. Karma wouldn’t be so kind, and he wouldn’t be so lucky. Obviously.

“And why the fuck are you here?” This is how Binna greets him, after taking him in with a groggy, borderline bored stare.

With a wince, Jeongguk tries, “Hi Binna–”

“Don’t you have a job?” she interrupts, the volume of her tone increasing with every word. “Aren’t you so busy? So busy, in fact, that it’s so hard to find the time for–”

He opens his mouth to try and get a word in but stops abruptly. So does Binna when she feels a soft hand on her shoulder, and hears a grumpy ‘Why are you being so loud?’.

Right in front of him, you’re still half-asleep. Drowsily using the sleeve of the oversized sweatshirt you’re wearing to rub over your face tiredly. Seeing as he decided to show up at a little past 8 in the morning.

After a few slow, dreamy blinks, you direct your attention to Jeongguk and he feels like he can’t breathe.

It’s unconscious, how his lips turn up a smidge when he really sees you for the first time in what feels like forever. When he sees the warmth that lives inside of you color your skin with the softest, natural flush.

Jeongguk is still so jealous.

He watches you and he studies you. Now that he’s not relying on his memories or the pictures in his camera roll or the ones on your socials– he’s trying to pick out what’s the still same; how you’ve changed. Your hair is a bit longer, a shade or two darker as well. Maybe it’s the big hoodie you’ve got on, but you look smaller than he remembers. In his chest, he feels his heart tug but he can’t dwell on it too much as he refocuses on your features beginning to stir.

They shift from dazedly blank to shocked, as if your still-sleepy brain has just now registered him being there, and the smallest gasp sounds from your lips. Then an expression that’s a cross between confused and angry takes the place of prior surprise. The doe-ish look becomes sharp and stern; your narrowed eyes are framed above by scrunched brows and below by shadowy circles. Your mouth goes from slack with your plush lips barely parted, to pouty and pursed in a deep frown.

Jeongguk knows he should say something.

Explain.

Say sorry.

Ask for forgiveness.

But he feels mute, like his heart is stuck in his throat. Like he can’t do anything but stand there and hope you show him a little bit of undeserved grace. That you give him a moment, and then another, to get himself together. Even though he’s had too many moments already to do exactly that.

In the few seconds that go by you shoo your roommate, and after she’s gone, your face changes once again. Softening just enough to not be so harsh. You stand in your doorway as he flounders and you watch with intent, almost curious, anticipation. And Jeongguk doesn’t want to be too optimistic– but he thinks there might be a hint of relief, an inkling of eager, hopeful expectation hiding in the way you’re looking at him.

As if you’ve been waiting for him; wanting him– and now he’s finally here; almost yours.

He’s so caught up in that –the minute chance of reconciliation that he only thinks he caught a glimpse of– that he doesn’t get out of his head until the movement of your shoulders slumping, and your chest deflating rips him out of it.

Jeongguk would prefer the air your demeanor carried just moments ago. The quiet, masked hopefulness you gave off before you made yourself smaller and breathed that tiny, dejected sigh. God, he would even take the calloused, puzzled hostility you had when you first realized it was him in standing in your doorway. Anything over how you look currently.

Definitely disappointed, maybe a little bit embarrassed, and just so sad.

It’s what he expected, at least to some extent. He’s foolish, but he can only fool himself so much. There’s a limit on how many fantasies of effortless forgiveness he can have before he has to face reality.

Jeongguk knew you would be sad, and he knew you would be disappointed. He was ready to take responsibility for the role he played because he was so sure that it would be his fault.

But what makes how you’re looking at him right now so awful, so unbearable– is that you’re looking at him like it has nothing to do with him.

You don’t look disappointed in him. You don’t look sad because of him.

It looks internal, so personal.

Like you’re sad because you naively allowed yourself to hope– let it glimmer, shining so obvious in your eyes. Only for the brightness to dim, snuffed out by the foolishness that so often goes hand in hand with naivety.

Like you’re sad because as soon as you saw him, you had expectations– preconceived notions about how it would go when he came back, how he would act. Only to learn that with enough preconceived notions, you can turn expectations into daydreams.

Maybe that’s why you look a little embarrassed, too. Because you so quickly let yourself hope, like a child who hasn’t learned from their mistakes. Because you immediately conjured up expectation-disguised daydreams of Jeongguk. Still, after all this time. After everything he’s done, you still expected good from him.

You look like you’re disappointed in yourself, not him, because you should have known better.

He doesn’t find his voice until you’re shaking your head like he’s let you down. Until you’re turning away from him and edging the door closed.

“I’m sorry!”

Jeongguk blurts the words out, and he didn’t say much but his chest is heaving and he’s got this frantic way about him and a panicky feeling flooding his veins. When you look up, surprise flashes across your face, but it’s gone in an instant and is replaced by incredulous anger. Like you can’t believe him.

Despite your trying to stand your ground and hold his gaze, a gleam still shines in your eyes.

“I am,” he assures breathlessly, his eyes darting across your face, “I’m so sorry, ___. And–”

When Jeongguk tells you he misses you, he notices how you almost flinch. How your eyes snap shut tightly –like you can feel his words, but still aren’t sure if they’re real or if they’re true; like you’re scared of finding out– and the heavy tears pooling on your lashline finally spill over.

As the salty droplets drip down the apples of your cheeks, Jeongguk feels an ache that hurts so badly that it’s visceral. Like if he could crack open his chest, he could get a hand on the it and just rip the pain out and make it go away. If only that was the case.

“I–” you start, but your voice gives out. You clear your throat with a small cough, and talk to the ground because it’s easier to talk to than him. “Maybe we’re better like this, Gguk.”

Jeongguk’s heart drops, and it’s a struggle to get out even just a whispered a plea of your name.

When you speak up this time, you force your eyes to meet his. Your brows are upturned and your bottom lip quivers for just a second before you take a deep, self-soothing, breath and school your features into a facade of indifference and resolve.

“I hope Nari’s been okay. And you. I hope you’ve been okay, too.”

Jeongguk’s brows furrow. He’s confused but gives you an unsteady nod. “She– she’s good, yeah.”

You scan his face, trying to keep your own expression neutral. But how he only mentions Nari and not himself doesn’t evade you. A faint heartache murmurs in your chest, but you mimic his nod. “That’s good. I’m glad–”

“What about you? Have you been okay?”

Jeongguk’s words come out overhasty and too eager. But after such a long time of replaying old dialogues in his head– talking to you just feels so nice. He doesn’t want to stop, even if the conversation feels stilted and trivial. He’s still going to hang on to every little marginal thing you say, and he’s still going to do his best to keep the empty words flowing between you.

He doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath while he awaits your answer. Not until he hears you say, “Yeah, I’m happy, I think” and the air inside his lungs vacates. Making room for a thick cloud of melancholy that isn’t surprising, but still makes it hard to breathe all the same.

Guilt mingles with the suffocating hurt because you being happy shouldn’t make him sad.

But then you smile and Jeongguk responds with a frown and a skeptical shake of his head.

Because the smile– it’s so fake, so unconvincingly artificial and staged that when it turns your eyes to half moons and causes their corners to crinkle– it also forces a fresh wave of tears to tumble down your cry-flushed cheeks.

He doesn’t believe you, but that’s no surprise. You’ve never been a good liar.

A dim, defeated laugh putters from your lips. Trying to portray nonchalance, you give him a weak, half-hearted shrug, like you know you’ve been caught but it can’t be helped.

He knows it hurts you to dismiss him. He can hear it in your shaky, wispy tone when you say, “Take care, Gguk.”

Take care Gguk.

Jeongguk knows it’s a ‘goodbye’. A goodbye that he’s having trouble processing.

It feels like a lifetime, but really it’s only a few seconds that Jeongguk stands there trying to make sense of your words. It’s only a few more before the door closes on him.

Jeongguk couldn’t process the goodbye, but the telltale click of the door locking somehow makes perfect sense.

~~~

Like you are the starlet of your very own coming of age, lifetime, hallmark romance drama– you don’t let yourself cry until your back is pressed against the closed door. Then you cover your mouth to keep quiet as you slide down the wood.

The moment is short-lived.

“Where’s Jeongguk?”

The voice seemingly comes from nowhere, and you jump slightly before swearing and directing your puffy, bloodshot eyes at your roommates. They both have their head peeking out from behind the kitchen wall. Nosy.

“What do you mean ‘where’s Jeongguk?’” you groan, knocking your head back against the wood.

Binna and Jade exchange a look.

“Are you guys like… not gonna… talk?”

You slow blink at them a single time.

An awkward quiet permeates the pumpkin-spice-scented air of your shared home. It’s not even Fall anymore.

“Well,” Binna starts, and then cuts herself off like she spoke before she knew what she wanted to say. She elbows your other housemate. “Jade?”

Jade gives you an instinctive, reactionary smile that’s far too big. “I mean… communication is key… right? And that’s mainly what was lacking before? Talking now could give you the oppurtunity to say all the things you’ve been wanting to. And maybe he can explain his side–”

Binna raises a hand to cut her off, “Too much credit, he is still a man.”

“Fair but–”

The two bicker for a bit before looking at you again.

“Wait, did you not want to work things out?”

You roll your eyes. “Of course I wanted to.”

“Of course you did,” Jade agrees easily.

“Of course you did,” Binna mimics before groaning and asking, “So why the hell is he not here, and why the hell are you not talking and ‘working things out’?”

Crossing your arms, your posture becomes defensive. “Wouldn’t that be too easy? Like he shows up at my door after all these months of virtual silence and I just let him in? Aren’t I supposed to make him grovel and cry and beg?”

“You have to let the man speak for him to be able to grovel and cry and beg, I’m afraid…” Binna informs.

The narrowing of your eyes is the simple response she gets. Only because Jade speaks up before you can.

“You know…” Jades starts, then ponders momentarily. “If it was you that showed up at his house out of the blue at 8 in the morning on a weekday? Then yeah,” she nods to herself, “I would say that it was too easy for him. But he came back to you. And just talking to him?” she shakes her head, “That’s not forgiving him. He still has a lot of work to do– and you should make him prove himself. Prove that he’s grown and changed,” Jade says before she gives you a gentle smile. “But him knocking on the door was also him taking the first step.”

He came back to you.

It’s what you wanted. But now that it’s happening, you have no clue what to do next.

You don’t know what to say. Are you supposed to lie and tell him you’re thankful that he pushed you away; that it helped you realize that he was right? That you are too young? That you’re happier without him, better off being free like he wanted you to be?

Or do you tell him the truth? Do you tell him about how hard it was without him? About how painful it was to go from having so much of him, all of the time– to not having none of him at all, ever? Do you come clean about how hollow and lost being alone made you feel? Do you tell him about how much it hurt every time you thought about how all it took was a few words from his ex– and you were gone; cut out so easily and carelessly? Do you admit that it still hurts to remember?

You don’t know what to do. Do you resist the fight you’re expected to make him put up? Or do you not fight it much at all and welcome him with a second chance and a fresh start? Do you pretend like you didn’t miss him? Like you didn’t fantasize about him coming back? That you didn’t look for pieces of him everywhere you went; in everybody you met?

You don’t know how to feel. Happy because he came to you? Sad that it took so long? Scared because him coming back is just another chance for him to leave again?

You were already crying, but the trickle of tears grows steadier. The sleeve of your sweatshirt is swiped angrily at your eyes, the light grey material dampened a few shades darker.

“Bro,” you cry, “I can’t even look at him without crying, I’m not gonna be able to talk to him. It hurts too bad.”

Jade looks down at you, gives you a pity pout. “If it’s any consolation, I think he will cry too.”

Binna agrees with a sympathetic nod of her head. “He’s probably hurting just like you, but it’s what he deserves.

“___,” Jades speaks up again, “It doesn’t have to be so– painstaking. Like you don’t have to drive yourself mad thinking about what you should do. Just do what you want to do. If you want to talk to him, then talk to him.” She shrugs like it’s really that simple.

And maybe it is.

~~~

It definitely isn’t.

Because if it was, you would not have opened with, quote, ‘I let you put your finger in my ass’, unquote.

And Jeongguk wouldn’t have replied with a slow, painfully dumb sounding: ‘I– yes… I remember…?’

You don’t even really know how it happened.

One second you’re hit with a burst of inspired adrenaline and then the next you’re knocking the wind out of both you and Jeongguk by barreling into his chest. The collision must have knocked the sense out of you, too. It’s the only explanation for your behavior.

All the same, the blame can’t be entirely yours– Jeongguk has to take some of it. He was standing directly outside of your door, after all. He claims he was working up the courage to knock again but that’s beside the point.

You keep your thoughts to yourself, as you pretend not to catch the way that he rolls his lips between his teeth to keep a smile off his face when you lead him into your room and slyly try to kick a few things under your bed. A stuffed animal, a bra. A few too many socks.

It’s a stupid attempt to make your space look a little more tidy and less like you’ve been rotting in it for the last few months. The room’s not too messy by any means; definitely not unkempt enough for you to feel embarrassed or like you need to straighten it up to impress him. But you hope he chalks it up to your nerves getting the best of you.

He’s nervous, too. If how awkward he’s being is anything to go by.

Just standing at the foot of your bed with his hands in his pockets while you situate yourself in front of your headboard. He doesn’t take a seat until you pat the mattress a little, letting him know it’s okay and that you want him to.

There’s a quiet hush that fills the space. It’s slightly tense, but it’s not entirely uncomfortable; stilted but somehow familiar.

You’re sitting with one leg dangling and a pillow in your lap. It’s hugged to your chest. Perhaps a make-shift shield to put something between you and Jeongguk. Fiddling with a loose pillowcase string helps you avoid eye contact by making you look occupied.

Jeongguk’s sat before you, stiff and looking down at the floor between his feet. Similarly evading your gaze just like you’re doing with his. He’s clenching and unclenching his hands, rubbing his palms restlessly over the material of his slacks.

Thinking back, Jeongguk feels like he did so much of the talking that night in his living room. Probably too much, if he’s being honest. He feels he never really gave you the time to say your side or a proper chance to explain yourself.

So this time, he wants to let you do most of the talking. Let you be the one to initiate, at the very least. He wants to give you all the time you need to start the discussion how and when you want, with what you want and feel has precedence.

Jeongguk stays patient right up until you say in a huff, “Well say something, I’m obviously not good at this.”

His lips twitch at your stubborn, slightly irritated tone.

“You’re the one that showed up at my house when I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to be at work, so,” you wave your hand at him, indicating you want him to get on with it. “Must have something important to say.”

The small laugh he allows himself is barely a chuckle, but it tumbles from his lips before he can stop it. Blames it on instinct and the simple fact that he just misses you.

“It is important,” he confirms, giving into your bait and starting the conversation for you. He considers staying quiet, getting another little reaction out of you, but he reminds himself that this isn’t the time for that. If he plays his cards right, maybe then he’ll be able to joke with you. But as of now, that’s not his place anymore.

Shifting to face you a little more, so that when he says, “I wanted to apologize to you, ___,” you have his full attention.

When he speaks, you don’t look at him. Instead, you only give him the faintest nod with your eyes cast down. Still fixed on the pillow in your lap. But Jeongguk notices how your lashes flutter quickly before you press your eyelids together tightly; just like you did earlier when he said that he missed you.

Your shoulders lift when you take a deep inhale, and your face is more or less neutral when your eyes meet his.

“It’s been months,” you tell him.

As if he doesn’t know. As if he hasn’t been driving himself mad day in and day out trying to muster up the courage to do precisely this; as if time doing what time does hasn’t been the bane of his existence. Because with each passing day, he knew he was that much closer to going from ‘it’s been so long’ to ‘it’s been too long’. He’s all too aware of just how long it’s been.

Regardless, he doesn’t want to give you excuses; choosing to be easily agreeable. He offers a small tilt of his head as acknowledgment.

“Why now?” you question him.

Jeongguk tries to keep the sadness off of his face when he hears how you sound.

The tone of your voice is unsure; hurt. But the pain is elusive. Only heard when your subtle heartache peeks through the veil of composure you’re trying to hide behind.

While he racks his mind for a worthy explanation, his eyes scan yours. Overflowing with so many different emotions and so expressive just like he remembers.

“I wish–” he begins, “I wish that I could tell you that I’ve been working toward this for ages and that I thought through all the steps and knew exactly what I wanted to say to you…” He gives a small self-deprecating chuckle, “But I can’t tell you that. After earlier, it’s clear that I didn’t have any idea or plan,” he offers you his bared palms. “I wish I had a good reason for ‘why now’, but I don’t.”

Your brows furrow with affronted confusion. Jeongguk speaks up before you can.

“That’s not to say that I haven’t been thinking about this since you left–”

“I didn’t leave, you got rid of me–”

The correction is hissed before you snap your mouth shut like you didn’t mean to say it. But you don’t take the words back and Jeongguk can’t control his expression this time. His face falls and he sighs as he looks down at the pattern on his pants.

“I’ve been thinking about this since I told you to leave,” he tries again, slowly. When you don’t comment again after a small pause, he continues, “but I wasn’t actively figuring out how to do it. I’ve come to learn that plans are essentially useless, so planning out what to say to you seemed pointless. In hindsight, it just made me look stupid,” he muses.

“Honestly, having you on a constant loop in my mind wasn’t intentional; I didn’t want that,” Jeongguk admits. But he doesn’t even chance a glance, not keen to see your worsening scowl. “Remembering you just made me so miserable? Like, thinking about you all the time made me miss you all the time. And missing you made me so fucking sad– like the kind of sad you can feel? Like it hurt to think about you. But you never left my head, so the hurt never went away…”

Jeongguk’s words slowly come to halt, his cheeks reddening to a bright cherry when he realizes that he’s rambling. As he’s mentally trying to dull his blush to something more faint and less conspicuous, he notes that your expression changed. You still look a bit angry, but now, there’s a pastel hue. A soft, muted sadness toning down the harshness.

He stumbles a little when he says, “I– Truthfully– I guess the–” Then he takes a quick, staccato breath mid-sentence to get himself together. “I guess the most truthful explanation for why I took so long is… avoidance? And guilt? Fear?”

When he frustratedly combs a hand through his hair, he pretends not to notice how it’s shaking. And he’s grateful that you don’t mention it when you track his movement.

The conversation gets stuck in a momentary limbo while Jeongguk thinks about what he said. It’s the truth. He was scared before– it’s what got him in this mess and it’s what kept him away for weeks too long. But he’s still scared. Despite getting the most intimidating part over with –actually coming to you after finally working up the nerve to– the fear of fucking up still hasn’t waned.

He’s still just as scared as he was.

Scared of saying the wrong thing. Of not being able to put what he feels into the right words. Of not being able to convey how truly fucking sorry he is for hurting you, how much he regrets it. He’s scared of hurting you again. Scared of you not forgiving him for the first time he did.

He is still just as scared of lying in the bed that he made.

Jeongguk digs his fingertips into his thighs and his nails are dull, but he does it hard enough for a minute pang of discomfort to still be felt. He makes himself puff out a lame chuckle. It sounds strained and resembles a scoff more than anything, but he’s trying to lighten the mood; make the air in the room lighter and easier to breathe.

“I’m sorry,” he says on the tail end of the scoffing chuckle, shaking his head lightly. His voice has a light waver, shaky due to his nerves. “I– I’m just–”

When he feels your small hand settle over the one he has working into his leg, his head whips up quickly and a reactive reflex almost has him pulling his hand away.

But he stops himself before, and he’s so happy he does. Because when the initial shock wears off, your touch feels good. Familiar and comforting. He’s happy he catches himself because your touch feels nice and when he looks up from it, he gets to see you.

It’s like you stopped hiding and came out from behind that veil. Or maybe it’s an accident and you just forgot to keep it up. Either way, it doesn’t matter because he gets to see you watching him so artlessly, so openly honest. With a look that feels like a reminder.

A reminder that your heart has always been so soft, so sweet– that it still is. Softer than the hand you have settled gently over his and sweeter than its touch when you coax his own into being gentle, too, but with himself. A reminder that you’ve always been soft, sweet– that you still are. You look at him –softly; sweetly– like you’re reminding him that you’re still you.

It makes his eyes water and he has to look away. The thin, pinstripes on his slacks blur together, blending into thick lines as unshed tears muddle his vision.

“It’s okay, you can–” he hears you tell him, starting hushedly. You sound hesitant, like you’re not sure if you want to finish. “I… want to know what you’re trying to say. So– you can take your time... I’ll wait for you.”

And if someone asked Jeongguk to describe the ache that fills his chest at your words– he would tell them that it hurts like he imagines the kindest, most tender, undeserved compassion would.

“It took me so long because I was a coward, ___,” he says quietly. But the word is spat from his mouth like something foul. “I was so scared of feeling the hurt and facing the guilt that came when I thought about you; what I did to you–” Shame runs through his veins and he shakes his head at how spineless he was– unable to face the consequences of his own actions. It’s humiliating to remember.

He’s still talking down to his lap when he admits, “I– just avoided it altogether. I was so busy trying to keep it away that I didn’t give much thought to owning up to everything. I didn’t even know where to begin or how to go about fixing things with you.”

Jeongguk’s not crying yet. With that being said, his vision is still bleary and his eyes are red-rimmed from fighting the stubborn tears. He turns the hand he still has underneath yours palm-up. Covers yours with his other on top. Your tiny hand sandwiched between his big ones. He tilts his head back, blinks the wet in his eyes away.

“I wanted to so badly, though,” he tells you, bringing himself to look at you, “To fix things with you. To just try with you. It took me way too long to understand something that should have been common sense: That things don’t always happen the way you plan for them to; That pieces don’t just fall into place just because you want them to. If I want something… It takes effort to make it happen. I have to work for it and try my best to put the pieces where they belong.”

Jeongguk gives you a small smile and your hand a little squeeze. “I needed someone’s help to figure some things out,” he rolls his eyes playfully, almost fondly exasperated by the memory. “Like how to start altering the way I think and how to stop with all the wallowing and self-commiseration. How to stomach self-reflection. But when it finally clicked and I really got it? Fixing things with you was the only thing I wanted to do.”

There’s a tiny flicker of something coming back. A sanguine glimmer replaces the chagrin in Jeongguk’s eyes and you try to mirror it, reflect it back to him. Because the things he’s saying all sound so good. Perfect and promising and like everything you could have hoped for.

But when he says the thing about needing someone’s help? Anything he said before gets repressed. Unclear and hard to recall, as if his words are stuck inside a wayward memory. Anything he says after is indistinct. Muffled and hard to hear, as if there’s water stuck inside your ears. Similar to the rot that’s stuck inside your heart; ugly and hard to get rid of.

Such a gross, sickly feeling suddenly comes over you.

It takes so much effort to swallow it down. The green-washed insecurity that’s wanting to crawl up your throat and out your mouth. Masquerading as untrusting accusations that will make you seem paranoid. Heartsick questions that will leave you too vulnerable.

Who was it? Was it her? Was Dasom the one who helped you?

Of course, she’s going to be a sore spot and you know that. But the thoughts fluster you and catch you a little off guard because it’s not like you to think like that.

It’s never been like you to be paranoid. To feel so self-conscious and easily threatened. You’ve never been the type to chastise. To interrogate, or pry. To accuse, or assume.

The doubt came from out of nowhere– crept its way into your head during a brief lapse of emotional awareness and into your heart when it erringly opened and was left unguarded. At first, quieting the intrusive thoughts and dispelling the negative feelings was a challenge. But in the end, you managed and it was fleeting and passed quickly.

Shaking the residual embarrassment that follows the bad thoughts and emotions, is much more difficult.

Unlike the momentary doubt, the sudden flash of insecurity that it comes with is so intense that it lingers, so strong that it fogs your head. It distractingly hangs out in the back of your mind making it hard to focus.

It takes a few moments longer before you’re able to suppress it and push it down, down, down. Down far enough that you’ll be able to forget about it. At least for a short while, you’ll be able to convince yourself that the feelings won’t come back because it’s just not like you.

Wanting to omit it altogether, you gather your composure and fully give Jeongguk your attention again. You give him a small but genuine smile and wiggle your fingers that are still between his hands.

He smiles back softly, while you sit quietly. You’re working to piece together the things he said while you were lost in your head, trying to come up with a decent response.

“I was scared too,” you reveal quietly, “The whole time I was scared.”

“Will you tell me what you were scared of?”

“There were so many things, Gguk.” You don’t tell him that there still are. Jeongguk nods attentively. You gingerly untangle your hand from his, catching his eyes before looking around your room.

“The finger thing was a really bad example,” you begin trying to explain. You shake your head with a sheepish smile, embarrassed and horrified at your past self. “and it wasn’t the actual act. It was more of what it meant that was scary for me? Like the fact that I let you do something that I always swore I would never let anyone do? Ever.”

Laughing lightly, you think back on all of the times that your friends would make jokes. How they always told you that there would be a time that you would be horny enough to let it happen. The times when they had more class and said it was fine if you never wanted to and never did, but that they still thought you would end up giving in one day. For the right person, you would.

But you always remained adamant– so sure that nobody would ever make the act appealing enough, that nobody would ever make you feel comfortable enough with them for you to allow them to touch you like that or see you like that.

“But then I met you.”

Jeongguk’s brows furrow slightly, like he doesn’t quite understand. But he just stays quiet and nods again, waiting for you to continue. And honestly, you can’t blame him. Anal should never be such a serious topic or something that feels like such a pivotal point in a relationship. You certainly wish that it wasn’t.

But alas.

“All it took was a couple of months… Just a few soft touches and some dreamy words and I was putty in your hands.” Your hands that are folded lightly in your lap open up to show your palms before they squeeze shut into tight fists. “I feel like I would’ve done anything for you; anything you asked me to.”

His features fall, and the expression he wears is laced with so much guilt. “Wait– Did I… make you feel like you had to do certain things?”

You can’t help but smile at his concern as you shake your head sadly. “No, no… nothing like that– I always wanted to.”

Jeongguk frowns, not certain of how truthful you’re being.

Promising him that you’re not lying, you elaborate. “That’s part of why it was scary for me, I think. There was just something about you that made me so…I don’t know, willing? So yours?”

The admission makes pesky pinpricks of tears sting the backs of your eyes. “And I was. I was so yours the whole time even though you weren’t mine–”

“I was–” Jeongguk chimes softly. Interrupting, if only for the sake of trying to convince you.

“Not really,” you argue. The tone you use comes across as somewhat detached. Like you’re just stating a fact.

Using the silence that nestles between you as an opportunity to think, you consider what you’re wanting to tell him. How vulnerable you’re willing to get. Your mouth opens before you feel like you’ve even made your decision.

“I knew you liked me,” you acknowledge because you don’t want to be unfair, “but part of me always wondered: ‘how much does he?’ and ‘for how long will he?’. I was already scared that I was just a phase for you. Before Dasom ever said it.”

Jeongguk tenses just a touch at the mention of his ex and you pretend not to notice, continuing with, “So when she said that I was just something you needed to get out of your system and you didn’t defend me? God, Jeongguk,” you get out, eyes squeezing shut. Wincing at the ghost of pain the memory brings back. “That hurt so much.”

Despite your wanting to look him in the eye and come off strong while you relay how his actions made you feel; it’s impossible. Despite wanting to seem as though you’ve healed and grown and matured and like it just doesn’t hurt so bad anymore; you can’t face him.

“And then everything happened so quickly?” you continue before he can get a word in, your words coming out rushed and frantic, “It felt like you didn’t even think about it, and like it was just so easy for you to let me go? Like I really was nothing just like she said–”

He can’t stop himself from reaching out and quieting you when he hears the way your voice breaks. Jeongguk doesn’t want you to cry, not sure he could handle it if you did. Your hands are in your lap still, clenched together, so he rests a palm on your knee.

“___,” he says gently, “I need you to believe me when I tell you that none of that is true.”

You keep talking like you don’t hear him.

“It almost seemed like you were already over it, bored of me. And her saying those things was a convenient way to– ” you shake your head before sighing. “I was always scared that you’d end up getting tired of me, that you would stop wanting me and just get rid of me. And after what she said, it felt like you finally did. Like you used her words as an excuse so you could finally leave me.”

“That’s not true, baby,” he reiterates, tongue slipping as he tries to console you again

At the pet name you look up. Your red-rimmed eyes locking with his.

He stutters a bit as he backtracks, barely able to get out a stiff apology.

And your lips pull down in a deep frown, and your brows turn up confusedly. “You said you wanted to… fix things with me?”

Jeongguk’s lips part, dim surprise taking over his face before he breathes a small yes.

“I want that too,” you breathe back, “but I’m still so afraid Jeongguk.”

“I know, I know you are– I am too–”

“Not like me,” you counter, “You may be scared, but you’re not scared like me. You can’t be scared like me.”

Your words come out sharper than intended, too emotional for the facade you’re trying to portray. But you don’t dwell on the tone of your voice. Nor do you dwell on the brief ire that flickers in Jeongguk’s eyes.

“I’m scared that I’ll never catch up to you. You won’t ever know what that feels like because you’ll never be the one that’s worried about falling behind– you’re the one that’s ahead of the curve. I’m scared that I’m not good enough for you and Nari– that I can’t be. You have no reason to be scared of that.”

The fight to keep your voice level and in control dwindles. Every ounce of your pain can be heard as you let out the burdensome ache in your heart, little by little.

Each word is heavier than the last when you ask Jeongguk, “Why would you be afraid of not being good enough for someone who never made you question it?”

Jeongguk flinches. Visibly recoils as if your words are abrasive enough to hurt.

Which is what you wanted. You wanted to hurt him, but it doesn’t make you feel better like you anticipated. If anything his reaction makes your pain ricochet right back at you. Hurting him, hurting you.

And then you consider that perhaps, you didn’t truly want him to hurt– that you might have just wanted him to be aware. To know what you’re scared of; how it hurts to be scared.

“Maybe you are scared, too,” you amend, “Maybe there are even a few things that we’re both afraid of… but being scared isn’t something we have in common.”

The hurt from before is replaced by barely-hidden defensiveness. Jeongguk does try to hide it as he listens to you, though. You give him credit for that.

“Being scared that you’ll realize that I actually am just some stupid kid that doesn’t know what she wants, exactly like you thought, is a very specific fear,” you try to explain. “I’m scared that one day you’ll look at me but you won’t see me anymore– you’ll see a mistake that could have been avoided if you never came back. That I’ll cross your mind. But instead of thinking fondly… you’ll end up thinking about how you wish you had just stuck by your decision when you said you wouldn’t let me stay.”

A defensive urge to argue the validity of his feelings comes naturally– he’s only human. His emotional side finds it unfair of you to determine, decide, and define his fears but the irony of the situation dawns on his logical side just as quickly.

The fact that you’re speaking to him in a manner that mirrors how he spoke to you all those months ago, doesn’t escape him. Instead, the similarities make him stop and think. Something he regrets not doing that night in his living room.

He concludes that arguing with you would be pointless. He knows you’re right and it doesn’t take him long to realize.

Yeah, Jeongguk’s scared. But just like you said– he’s not scared like you. Not scared of what you’re scared of. Jeongguk’s fears are more or less internal and he’s had a few of them for most of his adult life, since he became a father. Some of the fears may concern you in some way or another, but none of them manifested because of you or something you did or things you said.

He’s scared, but he’ll never be scared like you. Not when the things you’re afraid of only exist because of him.

The thought of it never going away, of you never being the same or free of the ache he caused, even after the insecurities and fears are dug up by the root– it makes Jeongguk feel like he’s going to be sick.

“I know you didn’t mean to hurt me,” you end up saying after a few moments of watching Jeongguk struggle to get words out. “And I know you regret it. You showing up here proves that.”

The small, sad smile you give him is too kind for what he did.

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” Jeongguk says, “For you, for Nari. I never thought– I’m so sorry, ___.”

“I know,” you reassure, gently.

And you truly do know how sorry Jeongguk is. He obviously doesn’t have the words to express his remorse, but sincerity is written all over his face. His big doe-eyes dark and glassy and so genuine. Full of regret; the longing to go back and undo what can’t be undone. Somehow so full of warmth, just like you remember.

“I don’t want to fight anymore,” you say.

It doesn’t sound like you’re at your wit’s end or like you feel as if the conversation has reached it’s breaking point. Just sounds like what it means. Like you don’t want to fight. Not with him. Not with yourself. Not with what you’ve been wishing for since you lost it.

Jeongguk agrees, nodding. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make it a fight. I want you to be able to talk to me about–” He’s flighty, moving his hands all about, like he’s nervous and has too many things he wants to say. “about everything, really. So, I promise, I’ll just listen–”

You watch him for a few more seconds, letting the corners of your lips turn up just so. Then you reach for his hands, ceasing their movement with your own.

“Shush,” you laugh faintly, “There’s still a lot we have to talk about. So much– we can’t get through it all with one conversation. It’s gonna take a lot of them and a long time, probably. But I think we’ve covered the most important stuff, right?”

You’re aware it’s going to take time to get through the maze of problems you and Jeongguk have created between each other.

But you can’t help but think about all time that you wasted while making them.

And you don’t want to waste even more time by waiting till everything is figured out before you start letting yourself get past it. You don’t want to hinder the process of moving forward by getting lost trying to navigate the maze. Not when you’ve finally made your way back to each other.

So while the labyrinth hasn’t been solved, and all your issues haven’t been fixed, at least now, you don’t have to do it alone. You can resolve everything and find a way out together.

It’s possible that you’re too willing to push things aside, that you’re too keen to move past it all. That you’re not standing your ground, being too easy and too soft, too quick. That you’re not giving yourself enough time to consider what you haven’t touched on yet. To process what you have.

But as you told Jeongguk, you feel like what needed to be addressed has been. With time, everything else will be talked about. Which is enough for you and your eager heart. You don’t want to wait anymore, not when you’ve been waiting so long already.

Jeongguk’s wearing a flush when you grin at him and he looks down at the pair of your hands, still slightly entangled on your duvet. His thumb rubs softly over your knuckles while he says, “If you’re sure?”

Vaguely aware of Jeongguk absently toying with your fingers while he awaits your reply, you think it over just for the sake of it and end up remembering something.

You hum musingly, making sure he can hear the smile you decorate it with. An attempt to diffuse the heavy air in your room till it’s something more buoyant; lighthearted and easier to breathe. You curl your manicured finger around one of his, trapping it briefly before untangling both your hands.

“Actually,” you start.

So very attentive, Jeongguk whips his head up.

“Now that I think about it, you told me why it took you so long,” you reflect, “But you didn’t tell me why now.”

Jeongguk opens his mouth to reply before he’s furrowing his brows, puzzled, pursing his lips into a line. It’s quiet while he thinks.

A weak, hopeless simper sounds, and he shakes his head while running a hand through his hair. “Again, I wish I had a better answer for you.”

You roll your eyes and change positions, now sitting criss-cross in front of him. “Okay, well, you didn’t just randomly show up! There had to have been something that made you come now; today.”

Light, but genuine laughter rings in your room– it starts off sounding like it’s accidental, cut-off chuckles only heard because the person laughing can’t hold it in, and it ends as cute giggles that lilt throughout the space softly.

And it’s all Jeongguk’s fault.

“No,” he says, around a breathy giggle, “I really did. I probably shouldn’t admit that, but I couldn’t stop thinking about you, and I ended up caving and looking at your–”

It’s now your fault that sounds of amusement continue to filter in the air– Jeongguk’s eyes getting wide and his face turning pink is too funny and you can’t not laugh at him.

He stutters when he tries to backtrack, “Y… Your– pictures? On my phone? In my camera roll?”

You narrow your eyes suspiciously, impishly. “Which of my pictures, hmm?”

The flush coloring his cheeks runs down to his chest, the silver LV pendant of his necklace would probably be warm if you reached out and touched it. He would probably be warm too if you reached out and touched him.

“No! Oh my god, not those! I did not look at those, okay? Anyway,” he rushes out, “I really was on my way to work! But add a couple of turns and a few steps–” he shrugs, “I guess now because I physically couldn’t keep myself from you any longer? Because then I was at your door and now I’m here. With you.”

The giggles have finally ceased, and now it’s just your paired breathing that acts as low background noise while you both take the other in.

“Now you’re here with me,” you repeat softly, with an even softer smile.

Jeongguk’s eyes drop to your lips for the briefest of moments. He darts his tongue out to wet his own.

“___. You were right,” he tells you, “It didn’t have to be all or nothing like I thought it did.”

You nod once.

“I’m sorry for not listening to you. For deciding for you and not letting you make your own choices. And for not even letting you explain your side that night. For how bad I hurt you and for all the things the hurt caused.”

“Okay,” you breathe.

“I should have listened to you.”

Again, you nod.

“I should have chosen you.”

It’s almost instantaneous when tears well in your eyes.

“But I was so scared of the way I wanted you and how badly I wanted it,” Jeongguk confesses, “I’ve never felt the way I feel about you before. For anybody.”

Mild confusion makes a home in your eyes.

He expects it before he sees it stir your features, so he’s not surprised when it appears. He finds himself smiling. Maybe because he’s wanted to tell you that since he realized it. Or maybe he wants to finally do what he should have done the night of the fight, and even before then.

Jeongguk smiles at your uncertainty because this time, he gets to make it go away. He gets to reassure you of your place in his life, of how important you are to him. Of how you’re worth trying for. He’s quick to shush you when your lips part to speak.

“No one,” he insists, “You’re so different, ___. And I feel so differently for you. I feel different when I’m with you. That’s part of why I was afraid. I was scared to want you because I didn’t know how to have you.”

Tears are making his eyes gleam, glassy in the morning light that streams through your blinds. Yours are a mirror and you don’t know how you’ve kept the drops from spilling over.

“I’m still fucking scared,” he admits, “Like you said, we’re both still scared. Because we have no god damn clue how this will turn out. If we’ll even be able to fix it and get back to the way we were. Who might be collateral damage if we can’t. If one of us will end up changing our mind. Or if we’ll end up even better; if we –me and you, together– will be the only thing that we’re sure about.”

The urge to tell him that you’ve been sure ever since you found his round little bug of a baby in your grocery store is so strong– you think you may burst because of it. Maybe the lovestruck feeling in your chest has gone supernova.

“I have no clue about anything other than the fact that I want to be with you, ___.”

Let the record show that between you and him, Jeongguk is the one to let the first tear fall during this conversation.

“I want to try.”

“Yeah–”

“If you’ll let me, I want to try for you. And if you’ll have me, I want to try with you. Because if we don’t at least try– I think I’ll wish that we did forever.”

When you beam at him and exhale a simple, ‘Okay’ and Jeongguk echoes it, he thinks this is all too easy.

But then he remembers how everything with you has always been that way. Maybe not too easy, but just right. Concerning you, the hardest thing he’s had to do is be without.

He brings your hand to his lips, brushing your knuckles with a sweet, kiss. “I want to be with you,” he tells you again.

You bite your lip to suppress your smile. “Then be with me.”

This time he’s the one saying ‘Okay’ and you’re the one echoing.

Until backtrack with a pout. “What… what am I? Like– to you.”

“What do you want to be?”

“Yours.”

Your answer is breathed so quickly, like you didn’t even have to think about it to know that’s what you wanted. Like that’s the only thing you’ve ever wanted. How fast you reply gives Jeongguk butterflies. Makes him giddy while he tries to calm himself as he confirms, “Mine,” before he adds quietly, a little shy, “I’ll introduce you as… my girlfriend?”

Jeongguk is so endeared when you close your eyes, wistful when you ask him to say it again in an airy voice.

“My girlfriend,” he whispers, squeezing your hand in his.

When you open your eyes to look at him and he sees unshed tears heavy on your lashline, his heart pulls in his chest and it breaks a little when you murmur, “I didn’t know if I would ever hear you say that.”

“I’m sorry it took me so long.”

A teardrop escapes the corner of your eye when you shake your head, smiling so sweetly, so happily. Jeongguk’s distracted, just taking it in and getting lost in everything that is you. So much so, that he doesn’t see it coming. Not until your arms are wrapped around his neck, his reflexively coming up to wrap around your waist like muscle memory.

Jeongguk takes a deep breath when he has you in his arms, nuzzles his nose into your hair. Pulls you impossibly closer, and he can feel how he squeezes the air out of you when you puff out a dulcet laugh into the crook of his neck.

When you bring your hand to the back of his head, the feel of your nails on his scalp and your fingers in his hair is enough to make him sigh, sink into the touch. It’s familiar. Feels like a natural progression, just like the way your cheeks brush when you pull away just slightly, only to come back. Closer this time.

His nose bumps yours, and he inhales your shaky sigh.

“I…”

“Yeah?” Jeongguk breathes.

The shift is swift. The temperament of the atmosphere smoothly transforms– going from something saccharine and tenderly sentimental to something decadently rich and heavy. The air all at once becomes thick and intoxicatingly heady; plush and ardently warm.

The build-up is gradual. At first, the sudden heady note of warmth that makes your room hazy just feels like a blanket. Like it covers softly, tickles the skin lightly. Then it begins to seep in so slowly, gradually, that it’s not noticeable until the heat of it can be felt bone deep. Until fingers shake with the desire to touch.

It starts with Jeongguk nosing along your jaw; down the length of your neck when you tilt your head to the side for him. It starts with the occasional, accidental brush of his lips against your skin. It starts with your hand gripping tight in his hair, a subtle try at pulling him in to keep him near.

It ends with a kiss.

Albeit, a fleeting one– but still a kiss nonetheless.

Pulling himself back, Jeongguk’s features are tensed. Eyes squeezed shut, teeth gritted as he struggles with himself. He’s rough when he gets a hold of you by your waist. His fingers digging in harshly; almost like he doesn’t realize how he’s handling you. But he’s gentle when pushes you away to put some space between you.

“Why–” you whisper, needy, as you bring your palms to cover his grip at your waist. You pet at the backs of his hands, coaxing him into letting them roam. You guide his touch down to your hips when he gives in briefly, encouraging him to touch you.

“I don’t know if– Maybe we shouldn’t–”

You crowd his space, bringing yourself to your knees and pushing his palms down to where the hem of your too-big sweatshirt grazes high on your bare thigh. Jeongguk groans after he loses his short internal battle. Can’t rob himself of squeezing at the meat of your thighs just for a second before he’s trying to pull his hands from yours.

He doesn’t get very far because you end up cradling his face in your hands, angling his head up to look at you. And Jeongguk’s always been so easy for you. It’s no surprise how easily he yields to the movement; how easy his eyes slip shut. How easily he parts his lips when your tongue teases the seam; how easy it is to get lost in the taste of you.

“Shouldn’t what, Gguk?” you ask in a soft voice. Each word spoken between the kisses you’re trailing down the column of his neck.

Jeongguk keeps his hands mostly to himself. Awkwardly letting them hover by your sides as he searches his brain, trying to recall the reason why he’s clinging to his resolve. It is so hard though, when you’re right in front of him. So willing and eager to let him have you. He finds himself following your lips when you barely let the plush center graze his cupid’s bow.

“Maybe we should… take it slow?” he offers, dazedly. It wasn’t supposed to sound like a question, but Jeongguk can’t help the way his voice carries up at the tail end like he’s not sure that’s really what he wants.

A little giggle falls from your lips, puffs hotly over his. And Jeongguk’s never thought you evil before, but right now he’s certain that you are. Because, with wistful mirth still in your voice, all you do is nod like you’re simply humoring him and say, “Yeah, maybe.”

Then you kiss him again, sighing a delicate, ‘Touch me’ against his lips.

You bring his awkward hands to your body, placing them on your tits, urging him to cup and squeeze over your sweatshirt.

Jeongguk exhales shakily, unable to keep himself from rolling them in his palms.

“Yeah,” you whisper, “Please.”

His hold on your chest turns rough, accidentally letting his pent-up frustration out through his touch and taking it out on you. It doesn’t hurt, not really, but you still whine. Let out a high, airy keen as your eyes slip shut and your head tilts back.

There’s no warning. Only Jeongguk’s hands moving to your shoulders, followed by a push and then a tumble, ending with you on your back and Jeongguk hovering over you. He’s got your wrists pinned by your head, and he looks down at you with dark eyes. The frustration in them juxtaposes the surprise in yours.

“You know that’s not fair, ___,” he chides. His tone is harsh, trying to sound stern, maybe angry– but there’s a slight waver in his voice that tells you he’s struggling to stay collected.

Fussily, you squirm under him. You tug against the hold he has on your wrists, only for him to squeeze tighter. You cant your hips in an attempt to rub up against his, only for Jeongguk to just lift them higher. A laugh of incredulity pairs the disbelief on his face when he glances between your wiggling frame and your irritated pout.

“I’m trying to do things right,” he explains around his bemusement, as he roughly presses your wrists deeper into the mattress. “I’m trying to be good.”

You stare up at him with pinched brows. He looks so pretty above you. Flushed a pretty pink with his lips parted and plumped by the kisses you managed to steal. A stray, misplaced strand of hair flutters with his heavy breathing. His eyes keep flitting down to your lips, and you can physically see how much he wants you; how hard it is for him to fight it.

When he finally lowers his body to yours, it’s almost defeatedly. Jeongguk gives in and just rests his weight on you. Presses himself against you, hot and hard between your legs. Finding his place easily when you open up and make room for him.

He keeps that pressure on his cock while he exhales a trembling, almost relieved sigh. His nose brushes yours but when you tilt your head to connect your lips, he pulls back. He does it again, taunting you with almost-kisses until you’re craning your neck again.

He doesn’t kiss you back when he lets your lips connect. In fact, you can feel how he purses his stubbornly. You stay determined, unswayed by his resistance. Your soft kisses inch from his mouth to pepper cute, all over his blushing skin. The scar on his cheek, the bridge of his nose. The just barely off-center freckle beneath his bottom lip. When your palm naturally settles on his neck, fingertips over his pulse point, you let out a breathy noise of wonder when you feel how fast his heart is racing.

And he feels his cock kick shamefully in his pants, letting out a breathy noise of his own. You feel it too and you coo, soft and fond, as you trail your other hand down his spine until it’s flat on the small of his back, pressing encouragingly.

Pulling his bottom lip between his teeth, Jeongguk hangs his head to get closer to you. He bites gently at the pudge of your cheek, letting his teeth drag lightly until he’s mouthed hot, all the way to your ear.

“Why won’t you let me be good?” he whispers.

He croons prettily against the shell of your ear before he nips teasingly at your earlobe. A heat curls in your belly, making you suck in a short, whiny breath. The insides of your thighs clamp tight around his frame.

“Be good to me,” you gasp, arching up into him.

Jeongguk moans quietly and buries his face in your neck when he can’t stop his hips from stuttering into a clumsy rhythm. Sloppily rutting his cock over your panties, uncoordinated and eager.

Maybe he’s overly sensitive, hyperaware of your body underneath him, but when you begin to roll your hips, meeting his and matching his pace– he can feel how the little bit of added pressure has you opening up for him. Just enough for his hard-on to slide between, barely pillowed by your panty-covered pussylips. Even through the clothing, he can feel the difference. Like he knows you can.

He hears the unexpected moan you let out when you feel his cock rut over your clit and he feels the way your nails dig into his back at the sudden enhanced pleasure before he shifts to rest on his forearms so he can see too.

And what a pretty sight you are.

Eyes hazy and heavy, half-lidded as you look down your body to where he’s making you feel good. Cheeks flushed a rosy pink with arousal and maybe a little bit of abashment when you glance up at him and see him already watching you. You give him a small, shy grin before letting your eyes flutter closed. Basking in how he’s making you feel, your mouth falling open in a silent moan.

As he takes you in, his lips part with a low groan. His own pleasure coming from pleasuring you; heightened by every noise, look, and movement you make. Jeongguk gets such a specific satisfaction and gratification from making you feel good. From being good to you.

“Is this what you want?” Jeongguk whispers, slowing down some. He settles into a steadier pace, rutting his cock up and down on your cunt with slow, lazy drags.

He grins to himself because of how quick you are to nod and let him know that, yes, this is what you want. His hand comes up to smooth some of the flyaways that have sprouted from your squirming and he cups your cheek when your turn into his touch.

“Hmm?” he prompts, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

You huff, annoyed, and he can’t help but coo, smitten.

“Yeah– yes I want this, but I–,” you start off strong. You hold his gaze until shyness wins and has you focusing on the necklace dangling from his neck. The LV sways some as he continues to rock his hips. “I want more, too.”

“Yeah?” Jeongguk asks, a smile lacing his dreamy tone. He gives a quick, soft peck to your red-bitten lips in lieu of letting you answer. “I know you do,” he tells you, murmurs it with open-mouthed kisses against your throat. He pulls at the neck of your sweatshirt, draws a violet into your collarbone, using his lips as the pen. Then he tugs the thin skin between his teeth briefly, making you inhale harshly before he kisses it better.

“Gonna take care of you,” he promises, “take my time with you.”

Jeongguk proceeds at his own languid speed, lingering on every new inch of skin that’s revealed as he rids you of your sweatshirt. Of your panties.

He allows you your own pace as well.

Doesn’t spur you on when you’re slow to open up his dress shirt, doesn’t goad you into nimble quickness when your fingers stumble and it takes you far longer than it should to undo all the buttons. He doesn’t hurry you when your touch drags over his skin, or when your palms falter at his shoulders, or when your fingertips lag all the way down his arms when you finally slide the button-up off. When your shaky hands bide their time, hesitating at the buckle of his belt, he doesn’t rush you.

Jeongguk takes his time –and lets you take yours– as if time itself doesn’t exist when it’s passing between the both of you. As if each moment that comes and each moment that goes is inconsequential because moments are meaningless and time is simply a concept when forever is right now.

Nothing really matters and there’s no need to rush when he’s in your hands and you’re in his arms and forever is in his heart.

“Not yet,” he lilts, grabbing your wrists and sliding the flat of your palms up his tummy and away from his waistline.

“But I–”

“But I–” he flirts coyly.

Your mouth opens to argue, but the words never get a voice. His mien makes the words in your throat fall mute and causes a feeling of wistfulness to rouse in your heart.

Knelt on his knees between your legs, smiling down at you, playful and flirty. Happy. Wearing a pink full-body flush– Jeongguk is stunning. Distractingly so.

He’s glowing; gentle yet radiant. A quiet fondness reflected in his eyes as he looks at you with that well-worn adoration of his. It’s a familiar affection. One that you’ve missed, yearned for, and memorized– one that you’ve tried to unlearn and tried to forget, too, because of how much it ached to remember.

Nostalgia is a wonted thing that taints good memories until it hurts to remember them. It warped the memory of Jeongguk’s adoration until even just a fleeting thought about it hurt. It made you want to wipe your memory clean just to be freed from the yearning.

But with him looking at you the way he is, with that same raw adoration, you can’t fathom how you wanted to forget how it made you feel. How it still makes you feel. Because how good does it feel to be adored? How good does it feel to be wanted? How good does it feel to be finally his?

You dig your nails into his skin at the thought, and his tummy tenses. His grip on your wrists tightens and he lets out a soft hiss, the sound buoyed by a light, airy chuckle.

His thumbs run over the pulse points in your wrists. “Lean against the headboard for me? Get comfy?”

Cushioned by a few pillows, you do as he says, sinking into the down. Your knees are bent, and your arms are wrapped over your middle, now hyper-aware of how exposed you are comparatively.

Jeongguk’s top half is just as bare as you, only his necklace still on. But even though his lower body is covered, his bottoms are unforgiving. Dark slacks belted at his hips, the slight dip by his hipbones accentuated and his v-lines disappearing into the waistband where his cock is tucked away. Too hard and heavy to disguise, clothes doing almost nothing.

Not that he’s trying to hide it much at all. He’s palming himself casually, his touch light and his eyes dark. Tracking your movements while he waits for you to get settled.

When you are, Jeongguk makes his way to you, his hands resting on your knees as he lets his gaze roam. From your eyes to your lips, to your pillowy tits, to your closed legs. You feel a light pressure, almost tentative like he’s asking for permission with his touch.

He’s on his best behavior though, so he asks you as well. And when you hear how his voice comes out a little deeper, with an almost imperceptible tremble, as he gently asks, “Can I?”, your lashes flutter and your thighs reflexively press together, before you let him guide them open.

Time isn’t real, but any time in your bed shouldn’t go to waste. So he swiftly resituates himself, resting between your spread legs with his lips naturally finding their place on your neck, his hands on your skin.

Jeongguk’s quick, but attentive, as he relocates his mouth. The spit from his kiss marks leave a faint, wet trail from where they start at your neck down to the swell of your tits. He sighs when he gets a hold of them, jiggling a bit and squeezing. He glances at you through his lashes, as he plays your nipples, teasing them till they’re hardened by his touch. He smiles to himself when he sees you bring your bottom lip between your teeth to keep quiet.

When he uses his lips to tease, he hears you sigh an airy, pleased sound. He’s smug as he swirls his tongue, flicks lightly over the stiff little peak. You take a deep breath, your chest expanding and pushing into him, before it’s released in a stuttery exhale. When you get a hold of his hair, the strands curl around your fingers, softly, like how you hold him close and cradle him to your chest.

He gives the paired nipple the same attention. Has you mewling prettily with each lick and suck. Whining with each bite and tug.

As he follows the length of your body, he does so with small, suctioning bites. A little nip just below your sternum, a little nip under your ribs. One at the softest part of your lower belly, right next to the pink heart of your belly ring. He gives the jewel a tiny, baby kiss.

“This is the same one that you had in the first time we…” he stammers, too aware of the blush that simmers just under his skin at the thought. “We… you know… right?”

Jeongguk’s laying on his front, his head resting against your inner thigh. His arms wrapped around your legs, resting on your belly. The tattooed fingers of his right hand absently toy with the dangly part of the jewelry.

Something warms you from the inside, pleasantly surprised by the mushy, lovesick feeling that washes over you. Your heart beats, rapid in your chest, and you wonder if Jeongguk can feel the whirlwind of butterflies in your tummy under his palms.

You nod, blushingly and shy. “Yeah, it’s… yeah.”

“Just as cute as I remember,” he nods back. The puffs under Jeongguk’s eyes form when he smiles and adds, “This one is my favorite… Gonna make you feel good now, okay?”

He says it so casually, that you want to laugh a little, but the anticipation it sparks makes you tense. Your pussy clenches on nothing, and you can feel that tell-tale heartbeat pulse between your legs.

“Okay… yeah…” you whisper dumbly, trying to hide how eager you are. You slowly open your legs a little wider so you can see him better, so he can touch you better.

Jeongguk switches from having one of his hands wrapped around your thigh to it resting palm down on your mons. He uses his thumb to lightly run along your plump folds, up and down. His eyes are fixed on your pussy, and his tongue peeks out to wet his lips a little before he nibbles on the inside of his lip, a soft smile making the corners curl.

“Just as cute as I remember,” he says again, his tone playful and a little wistful this time. He kisses just above your slit.

Past lovers had said your cunt was pretty or maybe perfect when they found themselves between your legs, but Jeongguk has always called your pussy cute. It’s just a thing he does. And you don’t know why, but it never fails to make you blush, a little giddy and shy– something just so simple and sweet about his word of choice.

Even now, it has you wiggling and trying to inch your legs closed as you bring your hands up to hide your face. It’s whiny, but you both know you don’t really mean it when you say, “Stooooop” the word dragged out and laced with pleased flattery.

You can feel Jeongguk’s warm laughter puff over your cunt as he urges you to keep your legs spread. He hums as the giggles subside and says, “Don’t be shy now, I’m just getting started.”

A wistful sigh sounds, and it’s soft and cute and taunting when you say, “Okay well, hurry up.”

You shift slightly here and there to get more comfortable, running a hand through your hair as you resist the urge to smile back at Jeongguk when he gives you a look. When you bring your arm down from your hair, Jeongguk snags it, guiding your hand to your cunt. But when you start to play yourself he stops you, tuttingly.

“Don’t touch, just– open up for me,” he instructs, “Show me.”

Jeongguk groans under his breath when you do as he says. When he stroked over your pussy lips just a moment ago, they were plush and smooth, soft to the touch with your arousal tucked neatly between your folds. But with them spread, he can see how you’re glossy with slick; so dewy when he’s barely even touched you.

“You’re already so wet. How long have you been like this, hmm?” he wonders aloud, gathering a small bit of the sticky clear at your opening with his finger before just barely pushing it inside. Kind of like he’s trying to put the little droplet back where it came from; not let it go to waste. Then he brings his touch to your clit and your pussy slick aids the up and down swipes of his thumb.

“Ah– fuck,” you faintly gasp.

Jeongguk’s cock pulses as you bring your other hand down, using both to spread yourself open more and pull back the hood of your clit. Making sure his touch is direct and the sensation feels as good as possible. The thought of you already being so greedy for pleasure is enough for him to leak, precum surely leaving a wet patch in his briefs.

Even though he’s being gentle, when he rubs over your exposed clit, you shy away from his touch despite being so fiendish for it. Jeongguk babies you with a coo because he knows that you’re probably so sensitive. You gave yourself almost no time to warm up, afterall.

“Too much?” he asks you.

With a shake of your head, you say, “No, no… just– slowly, please.”

Your words make him smile and he gives your inner thigh a honeyed kiss for being so good. The smile lingers because slow is the pace he always intended to use, at your request or not. It’s how he intends to finish you too. For the first time, at least.

Jeongguk keeps that slow speed until your body relaxes and another few drops of clear slick drip for your cunt. The thumb of his other hand rubs softly over your taint as he collects what you leak and tucks it back inside. Your pussy clenches and your hole puckers at the sensation every time, and it makes him fucking throb.

The thumb on your clit only speeds up enough for it to not be torturous or agonizingly slow, the pace satisfying but remaining lax and unhurried, like he has all the time in the world. Once he finds a good rhythm, he keeps the motions constant and consistent.

When you start to get antsy and fidget, he smiles to himself knowingly.

“Feels good, baby?” he asks you, and when you nod, he whispers, “Yeah? Look so pretty…”

And you didn’t lie. It does feel good. But he doesn’t go any faster. He doesn’t push the fingers at your opening in any farther. And after a handful of seconds that feel like minutes that feel like hours– there still isn’t any indication that he plans to.

When you roll your hips, trying to hint at what you want, Jeongguk stops you with a scolded tsk, telling you to stay still. The sound you let out is frustrated and petulant.

There’s a taunting note in Jeongguk’s voice when he says, “I thought you said it feels good?”

“It does,” you tell him, “But– faster?”

Jeongguk’s expression is entertained, chuffed even. “I told you I was gonna take my time with you. Need you to be patient for me, baby–”

“Please–”

“Hush, ___.”

There’s still lingering amusement in his tone, but there’s also a sharpness, a hint of disapproval and something stern that wasn’t there before. It’s enough of a warning to silence the begging on the tip of your tongue.

“I’ll get you there, baby,” he says, his voice sweet again. “It’ll feel so good, I promise.”

It’s quiet for a moment. Then–

“I changed my mind, it doesn’t feel good.”

Jeongguk doesn’t even look up from your pussy when he asks a preoccupied, “No?” Then he peeks at you, and when you give a pouty nod he hums. It’s smiling and mirthful when he dismisses you. “Well, don’t worry. It will soon.”

Jeongguk is content between your thighs, still playing with your clit slowly. He only checks on you when your squirming mostly stops and you become suspiciously mute.

He snorts when he sees you scowling at him. “Don’t look at me like that.” After a few seconds with no response, he continues with, “Oh, so you’re going to be difficult now?”

You shrug, snooty.

Laughing, he asks, “You’re really gonna act like it doesn’t feel good?” The corners of his lips curl softly and his eyes narrow like he’s scrutinizing you. His head tilts a little when he continues with, “Like you’re not leaking, right now? Like you wouldn’t be making a mess on your sheets if I wasn’t helping you?”

Jeongguk watches your cheeks steadily turn a deep pink at his words until you look away from him, turning your nose in the air. You probably would have covered your face with your hands to avoid his gaze had they not been occupied.

He chuckles again when he’s only met more silence. Just the slightest squirm when he tucks another leaked droplet back into your cunt. To make a point.

“That’s okay, you can be mad at me as long as you’re patient, too,” he says, tone grossly fond and a perfect example of the patience he wants from you. “Still gonna make you cum. Still gonna be good to you and give you what you want.”

And it seems what people say about patience being a virtue and all that, is true. Because just like Jeongguk said, with just a bit more time and some decorum, it does start to feel even better.

Like the way he’s been touching you, the come-up is slow and steady. The hot waves of pleasure that ebb in your lower belly. The rise and fall of your chest that gradually gets faster. The noises that get harder and harder to keep in.

Jeongguk doesn’t need to hear you, though, to know he’s getting you there. But he’s enjoying this brattier side of you –he remembers you being difficult every now and then, but overall you were always so good for him; never fought him too hard on things– so he humors you by asking, “Starting to feel nice, baby?”

Everso tart, you shrug again, looking off to the side.

Still, Jeongguk doesn’t need to see your face to know he’s getting you there. Your pussy is a whistleblower, telling him everything he needs to know. Your cunt– leaking non-stop, contracting constantly. Your tiny clit– now puffy and swollen from all his attention.

Your fingers holding your pussy lips apart for him have a mild tremor. Your brows are arched when you finally give him your attention again, watching his thumb swipe up and down, over and over again. Your legs are beginning to tremble beside him. Your head is lulling back, and your lungs are exhaling a lewd sigh.

“I– I’m close,” you whisper, breathlessly.

Jeongguk purrs, is just about to tease you and your stubbornness with something along the line of ‘Really? Thought it didn’t feel good, ___’. But he doesn’t get the chance because of how close the string in you is to snapping. How it’s pulled so taut that it has you near tears, that slow and steady come-up finally peaking.

“Oh my god, Gguk– my– my pussy’s gonna cum,” you cry quietly, legs shaking as you struggle to keep them open.

“Mhm, I told you, baby,” he hums, smug, “Let me see how good it feels.”

Your face is turned into your shoulder, but you nod for him. Focusing on the ruining, slow, consistent rubbing of his thumb. The pleasure is so mind-numbingly good that, as much as you want to cum, you try to make it last as long as possible.

Which isn’t much longer at all, only a few more vertical swipes over your clit is all you can handle before you’re mewing a soft warning and cumming so hard your body convulses.

“That’s my girl. So pretty, baby. Did so good; always such a good girl for me,” Jeongguk praises, full of lust-filled awe as he watches you finish. He feels your clit pulsing under his thumb and he sees your cunt squeezing repeatedly around nothing and now he that he’s not preventing it, he sees how your pussy cums– leaking everything that he tucked away and dripping down to your sheets. Making a mess like he knew it would.

He continues to rub your clit until your body twitches, curling in on yourself as you close your legs and bring them to your chest. Wrapping your arms around the backs of your knees and pulling your legs to your chest, you curl into yourself for protection as Jeongguk moves to shed himself of the rest of his clothes. Then he sits on his heels while he watches you, amused.

Even though you’ve made a great attempt at hiding your pussy away, with the way you’re positioned it still peeks out from between your thighs. Puffy and shiny.

You’re on your back with your eyes closed, still catching your breath. The feel of Jeongguk’s hands on you makes you jump, and when his touch moves form the backs of your thighs closer to your sensitive cunt, you whine, kicking at his arms weakly.

“Shh,” he murmurs, “I won’t touch, I just want to look.”

Somewhat soothed by his words, you begin to shift to a more relaxed position but Jeongguk pushes your legs back together and your knees back to your chest.

You gripe at being manhandled. “What if I want to see, too?”

“You don’t need to see if I tell you what I see,” Jeongguk reasons.

“It’s mine,” you argue.

“Ours,” he corrects.

After telling Jeongguk that he’s dumb and asking him to please shut up, both of you dissolve into a fit of laughter. When you kick again, trying to get his shoulder as punishment, he gets a grip on your leg before you can land the hit and he kisses your ankle. You sigh.

It’s quiet, and you’re content letting Jeongguk pet at you, listening as he tells you about what he sees. He says cute a few times. Wet, messy. His fingers brush over your folds, even plumper than before, and you can feel the sticky wetness that stays behind when he moves his touch to somewhere else.

When he uses his thumbs to part your pussy lips, you hear him whine. The breathy noise makes you grin, and you hum lightly.

“Still cute?” you ask aloud. Eyes on the ceiling, smile still on your lips.

Jeongguk knows he said he wouldn’t touch, but he doesn’t think you’re too sensitive anymore. He still bypasses your clit just in case when he slowly runs his fingertip to your opening. When he presses into the second knuckle, you moan sweetly and the sound mixes with the audible wetness. There’s a crystalline string still attached to his finger when he pulls away.

“Mhmm,” Jeongguk hums, answering your question. “But so messy.”

You bite your lip when Jeongguk slips his finger in again, a little father this time.

“Clean me up, then,” you whisper, airy and wispy.

Jeongguk hums and when you look to the sound, you can see him peeking at you over your bent knees that are still pulled to your chest. He scrunches his nose at you cutely, and you mirror the curve of his lips.

“I guess I should, since I’m the one who made you make such a mess,” he hums, like he’s mulling it over. But the fact that he does so while lowering his face to your cunt shows that he’s already made his decision.

In this position, you can’t see him and it makes you tense in anticipation while you wait.

Jeongguk knows it’s a little mean to keep you waiting, but he can see you so perfectly like this. Can see how you’re trying control your arousal and calm yourself down with deep breaths. He can see how it’s not working.

“You’re shaking,” he observes dreamily.

Your pussy leaks and he watches that glossy slick drip down. He uses his pointer finger to play with the droplet at your hole, swirling the dewiness around the cinched muscle.

The sigh you let out is stuttered, and your hole clenches under his touch before you force yourself to relax again. You swallow your embarrassment before you admit, “I want it really bad, Gguk.”

You sound like you’re close to crying and Jeongguk soothes you with wet kisses on your thighs.

“All you have to do is ask, baby,” Jeongguk tells you gently. His kisses move till they’re right next to your pussy, his tongue poking out to lick just outside your folds. His thumbs pull you open and he blows lightly.

“Oh my god,” you whimper.

Jeongguk’s voice is full of flirty, mirth when he asks, “What do you say? Hmm?”

The heartbeat in your cunt is the only thing you can focus on. The pulsing is so loud and strong that it drowns everything else out. You don’t even really hear it when you sigh a hazy, “Please, sir.”

Predictably, your words go straight to his cock. But weirdly enough, he also feels them in his heart? He can’t explain it but somehow the lust thrumming through him melts into something fond? A lovesick impulse has him opening your legs so he can slot himself in between.

He doesn’t lay on you but holds himself above on a braced arm. His free hand comes up to cup your cheek as he looks at you. The corners of your eyes are damp, confirming the tears he thought he had heard in your voice earlier. Your lips are redder and a bit swelled, probably from you pulling them between your teeth.

Jeongguk kisses the corner of one eye, then the other, and then your lips. His thumb glides over your cheekbone. He sounds gentle when he says, “No ‘sir’ today, okay? Just Gguk.”

You nod in his hold.

“Good girl,” he smiles, soft and sweet. “I’ll clean you up now, won’t tease you anymore.”

You breathe a relieved sigh as Jeongguk kisses all the way down your tummy and you think about how good it’s going to feel, after all this time, to have his mouth all over your cunt. To feel his tongue licking into you, deep and slow. To feel his lips wrapping around your clit with light sucks.

The closer Jeongguk gets to your pussy, the harder it is to keep still. He smiles as you squirm and you can feel it in the juncture of your inner thigh where his mouth has strayed. It’s not too long before he gets back on track, kissing his way to your pussy till his lips are tucked between your plush folds and the tip of his tongue is circling your clit.

Your mouth drops open in a silent moan as you sit up, resting on your elbows to watch him. Just the sight of him is enough to make the first surge of heat curl in your belly. He’s got his eyes closed, lashes sitting pretty on the highs of his cheek as he licks at you. Cleaning you up and making a mess of you all at once.

“You look so pretty,” you whisper as you card a hand through his hair, pushing the stands off his forehead and out of his face.

Without stopping his tongue, Jeongguk glances up at you, his eyes half-lidded and hazy. He moans pleased and happy into your pussy. Only pulls away for a second to whisper a cute ‘thank you’.

His tongue is busy and so are his hands, running them up your body. When he gets to your tits, he’s harsh. Digging in and squeezing with palms that are just as greedy as his mouth. He uses the hold he has on them to pull himself closer, push his tongue deeper. The harshness of his touch makes you hiss, the hand you have in his hair tugging.

Jeongguk’s eyes roll back a little before he loosens grip, squeezing your tits once more, gently this time, as an apology. Then he’s smoothing his palms along your waist till one’s wrapped around your thigh and the other’s resting on your tummy.

He pulls away briefly to look at you, offering a sheepish grin before he pecks just above your slit. The hand he has on your belly absently fiddles with your bellyring.

“Sorry,” he says, “I just– I don’t know, I didn’t notice how rough I was being.”

You hum while you rest your feet on his back and wiggle your toes.

“I think I’ve just been wanting you for so long…” He turns his head and nuzzles into your leg by his head, his hair tickling the sensitive skin. “And now that I have you, I–” His lips graze your inner thigh with every word and when he’s at the softest part, he bites gently.

On a sigh, you ask, “You what?”

Resting where his teeth just were, he tilts his head, looking up at you. “It’s hard for me to control myself. I just– can’t get enough of you.” His words are said with a sigh and uttered in between roaming wet kisses.

After he promises he’ll be more careful with you, he begins to lick broad stripes over your cunt. When you spread your legs wider, you can feel the flat of his tongue against your clit. But it’s just slightly, just a brush of his tongue.

“My clit,” you moan, looking down your nose at him, “Play with my clit.”

He hums, pulling back a little. With your legs parted so wide, your pussy lips are spread just enough for him to see the little bud. He watches you as he uses the very tip of his tongue, flicking repeatedly over the sensitive spot just under your hood.

Your brows pinch and your legs twitch as they naturally try to inch close, the feel of Jeongguk’s tongue so good and so much that your body is already on the verge of being overwhelmed.

“Ah– yeah, like that, Gguk,” you sigh letting your head roll back, basking in how good he’s making you feel, “Keep licking my pussy like that.”

Your eyes lull shut while you let him make you feel good, and it’s then that you notice his hand on your tummy is still toying with your piercing. It’s distracting only for a moment, only before you realize that every time he does something to your clit with his tongue, he does the same to the dangly part of the jewelry with his fingers.

When Jeongguk circles your clit, he twirls the charm. When he licks up and down over your clit, the little heart gets flicked too. When he suctions his lips and sucks your clit in and out of his mouth, he tugs gently on your belly ring.

You can’t be sure if he’s doing it on purpose. One part of you thinking the patterns match up too well for it to be unconscious, the other part thinking it could just be an absentminded coincidence. You also can’t be sure why the nuanced touches are making the pleasure in your gut curl so tight; burn so hot.

“Gguk– you’re gonna make me cum again…” you drone, lustdrunk.

He smiles while his tongue continues to lick lightly. “Am I?”

While looking down your body at him, you nod. Your body already pulling taut with the tension that always preludes your orgasms.

Jeongguk’s lips wrap around your clit and he gives a quick sucking kiss before he pulls away with a little pop! sound. “Not yet, I’m not done cleaning you up.”

Groaning, you throw your head back. “You said you weren’t gonna tease anymore.”

“I did,” he confirms, his big palms finding the backs of your thighs and pushing them back, “But not so you could cum– so I could clean up your mess–”

“Your mess–”

“Our mess,” he amends, the tips of his fingers straying to the newly exposed parts of you. Jeongguk brushes over your hole, and you suck in a small gasp. “You’re messy here too, baby.”

Whining softly, you squirm as Jeongguk presses light, sucking kisses into your skin and there’s a subconscious urge to close your legs to keep him from getting where he so clearly intends. At the first signs of subtle hesitance, you feel his hands hold your legs open more firmly

“Let me?” he breathes, “Please?”

And something about how his voice is so soft –hazy and dreamy and full of so much lust and desire– has you relaxing, giving in. Docile and pliant in his hands.

You suppose some things may never change.

The first feel of his tongue tasting you where no one has before makes you exhale a shaky sigh. Your hole puckering under the featherlight licks he gives. When he circles the cinched muscle, your mouth falls open and you look down your body and between your open legs to where Jeongguk already has his eyes on you.

His eyes get little puffs under them when he sees your reaction and smiles. The confusedly pleasured pinch of your brows. The tense way your hands grip the sheets under you.

Giving your cheek a quick peck, he asks, “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

It makes the memory of him –hot and hard and leaking with your tongue on his hole– flash in your mind. It reminds you that he knows what he’s doing to you, that he knows he’s making you feel good because you made him feel the same way. Sure the anatomy’s different, but a tongue is a tongue and a hole is a hole.

In lieu of being difficult, you answer him with a moan; with your head hitting your pillows again.

That’s confirmation enough for Jeongguk as he echoes your moan with his own. He wraps his lips around the tight muscle in a nasty wet kiss and then drags his tongue up and along your leaking center till he’s at your clit where he plays until he works you into a whiny mess.

You’re tensing, and he can feel how your body shifts as your chest expands with the deep breaths you’re taking. Like you’re trying to focus and keep yourself earthbound by delaying the impending high.

It’s a high that’s inevitable though, and you have a warning on the tip of your tongue only for it to go to waste when Jeongguk makes his way down again as soon as he senses it.

And he repeats this– alternating between rimming you tauntingly and eating you till he can tell you’re right on the edge. You can feel how he smirks and you’re sure it’s amusement that you can hear prettying up little noises he purrs. His continuous teasing has you letting out barely contained whiny keens.

But Jeongguk can tell you’re doing your best to behave. The brattish way about you from before is nowhere to be seen. Not even when he feels your body slump for the nth time, panting from another almost-orgasm he takes away.

“You’re gonna cum aren’t you?” Jeongguk wonders aloud, pulling back a little to see how your pussy clenches in anticipation.

He hears you swallow, flicks his eyes up to watch as you bring a hand up to tug a little at your hair. It trembles a little as you bring it down to his locks.

“I- yeah… just… please…” You tug, pulling him to your clit by the crown of his head and holding him there with both hands. “Just stay there, please…”

You can’t help the way that you start to roll and grind against his face. Jeongguk’s lips and his tongue rubbing against you repeatedly with the up and down motion of your hips, and his nose bumping your clit a little every now and again.

His hands dig into your waist like he’s trying to pull you closer, suffocate himself with your cunt. It’s when he shakes his head with subtle little side to side motions over your clit that your pleasure peaks with your legs shaking before they’re closing around his head.

You cum hard and quietly, hushed ‘don’t stop’s and ‘keep going’s tumbling from your lips as you hold his mouth against you until you can’t take it anymore. You use one hand to pull him away by the hair, your other coming down to press against your still pulsing pussy.

With the hold you still have in his hair, you deliriously guide and maneuver him upwards. You’re still trying to catch your breath, so the quiet awed, ‘Whoa…’ you voice sounds airy

The position you’ve got Jeongguk in now has him straddling you across your upper torso with strong thighs caging you in. His cock bobbing a little right in your face. Heavy and flushed, the tip an angry shade of pink and shiny with precum. It’s instinctive when you reach out with your small hand to wrap around the base. And again, something awe-filled tumbles from your mouth.

“You’re so hard…”

The words float past your lips in the form of a breathless whisper, your lashes fluttering as your gaze jumps from his cock to his face. Your hand strokes lightly, just your fingertips running over the warm, silky skin.

“Missed you,” Jeongguk says with a tiny, unabashed shrug. As if that’s explanation enough for the state he’s in.

He smiles with his bottom lip tugged between his teeth and you smile back.

The pad of your thumb rubs at the underside of the crown when a drop of precum leaks, massaging it in messily. “Can I use my mouth?”

“Mhmm,” Jeongguk sounds, not trusting his voice enough to not shake.

You begin by placing weighted kisses along his length, starting at the base till your lips pucker around the slit. The heady taste of precum makes you purr, moaning softly. Jeongguk’s hips cant forward, and when you glance up you can see how his head has rolled back.

Smiling at how affected he already is by the smallest things, you run your teeth over the sensitive head. You anticipate the hiss that Jeongguk sucks in. Your tongue swirls around to soothe and to taste before your mouth opens to swallow.

The tip of his cock barely grazes the back of your throat before Jeongguke is pulling his hips back and choking just slightly on the whiny gasp that gets caught in his throat. He threads a hand in your hair and tugs you off.

Your forehead is resting against his lower tummy, and you giggle a little before you kiss at the slight jutting of his hipbone. His cock throbs, and he groans.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, smiling into him.

You can feel his fingers massage lightly at your scalp, and when you glance up at him, he’s looking down at you, lovesick as he rolls his eyes at your playfully.

“Go slow, okay?” he asks softly, “Tease me a little?”

Closing your eyes briefly as you let the sound of his moonstruck voice wash over you, you kiss sweetly at his hip once more before giving small kitten licks to the warm, flushed skin of his cock. He sighs like he’s in love.

“Like this?” you ask, coquettishly.

Jeongguk nods when you look up at him with your mouth open and the tip of your tongue flicking lightly.

“Lick the tip,” he whispers while he gets a hold of himself and guides it to your mouth.

You keep your eyes on him as you slowly drag the flat of your tongue with long licks.

“Good… that’s good baby…” he says airily.

Jeongguk glances down his nose at you for just a moment longer before his head is rolling back, and he’s moaning. His little sounds are quiet, but they’re almost constant. And you’re really not doing much, just licking softly at his frenulum, but you can already feel how his cock is getting stiffer, can see how the muscles in his tummy tense and untense… like he’s already getting close.

Kissing the crown, you pull away, stroking over him lazily. Squeezing at the base when he kicks in your palm. “Already?” you ask gently.

Jeongguk’s eyes are squeezed shut, like he’s trying to keep his composure, but at your choice of words, he laughs lightly. “Yes, already,” he tells you, pointedly. “That’s why I said to go slow.”

Slow is good for you. Slow lets you take it all in. Take all of him in.

Slow lets you tease drop after drop of precum out; lets you coax your name from Jeongguk’s lip over and over again until you’re sure you’ll hear his lovechants in your dreams tonight. Slow lets you memorize the way that his hands twitch wherever they touch you, how he gasps when your tongue does something that feels extra nice, how he whines when you bring your free hand up and roll his balls in your palm.

He’s a bit predictable, endearingly so with the blush on his cheeks as he urges the hand toying with his balls a little farther back. You smile to yourself as you touch him, rubbing at his taint and taking a moment to just watch his face.

Jeongguk’s eyes are shut, mouth just barely parted. His brows pinch just slightly when you inch your touch farther back and the cinched muscle clenches briefly under your fingertips, before he relaxes. It’s light and hazy when he whispers, “Yeah, baby…”

The light circles you’re tracing around Jeongguk’s hole have his cock throbbing. You have to wrap your lips around the head to keep him still enough to taste and properly tease, sucking with tiny bobs of your head as you drink down everything he leaks.

“I– ___, oh my god–” Jeongguk pants, looking down at you, like he can’t believe you or your mouth, can’t believe how good it feels to have you again.

You hum, lips still wrapped around the tip of his cock as you smile up at him as best you can. His chest expands with a sharp inhale when you press your fingers a littler firmer against his hole.

“Want me to put them in?” you ask between the soft open-mouthed kisses you press to his cock.

The sound that Jeongguk lets out makes your kisses cease and has you sinking your teeth into your bottom lip. Your thighs rub together, and your pussy is needy between them.

Jeongguk’s never done it before, at least not fully and with someone else. But the thought alone is almost enough to make him finish. It would be a first for you and him, together. Something he’s been wanting, craving.

He’s still trying to get his thoughts in order when you prompt him with a patient, ‘Hmm?’.

“I- No, no–” he ends up saying, “Just– just play with me.”

It’s sighed, laced with lust and contentment. Having you right now, just playing as he said, is more than enough for him. The anticipation does feel nice though, hot and sweet like a whispered promise of next time. Jeongguk wonders if you’ll ruin him.

“You just want me to play?” you ask, “You don’t want to cum?”

And Jeongguk’s sure you will. Ruin him, that is. If you haven’t already.

Your voice comes out lovily teasing, and your hands stay busy while you look up at him, eyes big and so pretty. Lips glossy with spit, maybe a little bit of his precum.

“Not– not yet?”

Jeongguk’s voice sounds unsure in your ears, and his actions contradict his words when you bring your lips to his leaking tip. His hips roll forward seemingly on their own accord, the most sensitive part of his cock rubbing against your tongue that you’ve pillowed underneath the crown.

A choked little whine falls from his open mouth before his head is lulling back and his hands are coming to your hair. Humming, you suction your lips around the head and bring the hand you don’t have busy to his hips, urging him to keep rocking his hips, slow so you can keep the pressure from your tongue constant.

“Oh my god– baby… baby–” Jeongguk moans, his gaze back on you. His brows furrowed and arched up, his mouth agape.

Under your touch, you can feel his muscles tense. How his breaths come out huffed and strained. How he sometimes tries to pull his hips away before he pushes them in like he rethought it, maybe like he never meant to. How no matter how hard he tries to keep from doing it, the stalling pace of his hips picks up.

And you can tell he’s going to cum.

He keeps muttering these fucked out little whispers of your name, of baby, of my baby. Almost like they’re warnings, maybe pleas. But not pleas for you to stop, or tease him anymore. You can hear the difference, can feel it in the way he touches you. Can taste it on your tongue with every heavy drop of precum that he’s leaking.

It’s like a string snaps in him, when he groans something deep and dissonant and his hips stop all together and his hold in your hair turns almost painful as he uses his grip to work your mouth over his cock.

“Yeah,” he breathes, “Don’t fucking stop… Gonna make me fucking cum–”

His cock is throbbing in your mouth before he even finishes his sentence. Coating your tongue in so many thick, hot shots of white. You hum, moving your fingers from massaging his taint so that you can roll his balls in your palm.

Jeongguk’s hand is shaking a little when he brings it down to cup your face, when he gently pulls you off him. His cock still fat and bobbing with the aftershocks of his orgasm. He guides your gaze to his.

He’s bracing himself above you with his forearm against your headboard, looking down at you a little sweaty and so flushed. Chest rising and falling with deep breaths. He’s got a little smile on his face when he runs the pad of his thumb over the plump of your bottom lip. Your mouth opens instinctively. The little smile on his lips grows before he’s biting it down.

His thumb presses down on the fleshy muscle, and you naturally let your lips wrap around it.

“Good girl,” he says, softly.

His words are tangible, and you close your eyes and you smile as you just let the praise glide over your body. It’s almost like you can feel each letter press a kiss into your skin.

Jeongguk’s a copycat as he too presses kisses here and there while he resituates himself. Going from straddling your ribcage to finding his home between your legs. Until you manuver him once more. He’s still home, between your legs, but on his back with you straddling him now.

Jeongguk doesn’t complain at the manhandling. Just looks up at you, rubs little nonsensical patterns just above the creases of your thighs.

“Can we do it now?”

His laugh is bright and loud at first before he gets a hold of himself, but he’s still smiling as he lets his shining eyes and his hands wander. His fingertips trialing over your skin until his gets his hands to your tits. His thumbs flick over your nipples while he hums, amused.

“Now you have to wait for me to be ready again,” he tells you conversationally, still teasing you.

You pout playfully, letting your own fingers explore, tracing the line of ink where his sleeve comes to an end on his shoulder. “So boring, Gguk,” you jest.

He scrunches his nose at you. “Why do you think I told you, ‘not yet’?”

Rolling your eyes, you reposition yourself; less over his torso and more over his hips. “Well,” you start, lowering your pussy down to where his cock lays flat on his tummy, “Waiting doesn’t have to be boring.” You drag your cunt over his still plump, but not-quite hard cock.

One of his hands quickly jerks down to get a hold of your hips and stop your movements. He hisses..

He says something about how he never said it had to be boring as you reach between your bodies and get a hold of his half-hard cock. Goes on about how he literally just came and how he needs a second to recuperate as you bring the head to your wet opening.

“Can I?” you ask vaguely, interrupting him.

He doesn’t say anything more, just gives you the littlest nod and he squeezes his eyes shut while you squeeze him into you. He’s not there yet, but he’s still sensitive and its still a tight fit.

Jeongguk looks down his chest to where you’re sitting prettily on his slowly hardening cock. His eyes roll back slightly before he’s scrubbing one of his hands over his face. “You’re–”

“Did you watch our video?” you interrupt again.

Stuttering a little bit, and winching some, Jeongguk uses the couple of seconds it takes for you to bring yourself down to him, to think.

“No, felt guilty… tried to hold out completely but ended up giving in and thinking about you…” he says, his hands finding their place at your hips..

His answer isn’t what you expected but it still has you smiling softly, chest to chest, resting on your elbows, and playing with his hair. “And what did you think about?” you muse, words breathy and flirty.

Jeongguk’s eyes instinctively dart to your curved lips. “Your mouth.”

You scrunch your nose at him cutely as you ask, “On your cock?”

He gasps when you grind your hips just a little, the movement stiffening his cock up that much more. Jeongguk can feel his cheeks heat up as he shakes his head, the hands he has on your hips moving to your thighs and then back up, squeezing and making little chills crawl across your skin.

“On my lips…” he admits quietly, licking them. “Missed kissing you.”

With a heart that grows fond in your chest, you lean down and give what he missed. Jeongguk sighs into your mouth, melts underneath you. He cranes his neck and the kiss deepens, his tongue slipping in between your lips. It’s not until you having him moaning softly into your mouth that you disconnect from him and make your way to his ear.

“Thought about you too,” you tell him, “touched myself to the thought of you missing me; wrapping your hand around your cock with me on your mind.”

Jeongguk’s fingertips dig into the fatty part of your ass, latches his lips onto the junctre between your neck and your shoulder. He sinks his teeth in just a touch to quiet his moan.

The whiny moise that you let out precedes the, “I fanatasized about the way you would fuck me when you came back to me–”

“I wanted to, but I just felt so bad–”

“Shh,” you hush him, “Doesn’t matter now…”

You finally make to move your hips for real this time, but lifting them has you letting out a tiny hiss of pain that’s followed by a cute, airy laugh. “Almost forgot how big you are.”

Jeongguk’s heart was just tugging inside his chest but now his cock is throbbing inside of you. Even as he wonders if there’s been anyone since him.

But once you get over that first hint of pain, past the initial sting of him stretching and filling you up, the only wonder is how Jeongguk survived without you for so long.

The light from your blinds peaks through your hair; wild and messy and draping over your shoulder. The long strands almost act as a curtain, hiding you and Jeongguk away. Spots of sunshine come through here and there, and they hit different parts of your body as your body becomes his body. On the tip of your nose, over the curve of your breast, the tops of your thighs.

And Jeongguk’s knows he is so fucking lucky. Not because he gets to have you like this –warmed by his touched and sunlight– but because he gets to have it again. Because he gets another chance at having you at all, after fucking it up once already.

“Gguk,” you pant, “I feel so good right now.”

You’ve gone from bouncing on his cock, to griding on it, feeling his tip rub against the deepest parts of you. Your palms are flat on his lower tummy, and when he grabs your hips, helping you move back and forth on him, your nails dig into the muscle.

It makes him moan, quiet like the little sounds that you can’t stop making.

Jeongguk knows he was basically on the verge of tears just a second ago, but he is still a man and he can’t stop himself from asking, “Who’s making you feel so good baby?”

He can tell how fucked out and how close you are because of how easily you answer him. How being stubborn and bratty doesn’t even seem to cross your mind when you moan, “You, it’s always you.”

Pulling you to his chest and fucking up into your cunt is much sweeter than it probably seems. He does so to be close to you, to feel your chest against his, to feel how your body shakes as you get closer, to feel how you bury your face into his neck to try and muffle your moans and cries.

“Yeah–” you sob into his skin, “you’re gonna make me cum– please– please, can I cum?”

Your words come out staccato and irregular, punched out one by one by his cock as he fucks you faster. But Jeongguk doen’t say anything yet, just focuses on the slick sounds your pussy is making everytime he bottoms out, on the feeling of his cock sliding in and out of the slick, velvety heat, on how his fingers sink into your ass as he squeezes and tugs and pulls your cheeks apart to bury himself as deep as he can when he cums with you.

“Fuck, baby cum for me,” Jeongguk pants, his words a little rushed as he feels it all come to a head, “Cum all over my fucking cock while I cum in your pussy.”

You don’t say anything when you cum, and neither does Jeongguk. Both cumming with nothing but gasps. Your’s sounding sweet, almost awed, as you just let your cunt squeeze and contract around Jeongguk’s cock, almost like you forgot you could cum that hard. Jeongguk’s are more guttural as his cock throbs, pulsing with each shot of cum he pumps into your pussy.

~~~

“Your roommates are actually terrifying.”

The voice makes you smile, laughing sleepily, eyes closed for just a moment longer before you turn your head to see a dishevelleddly dressed Jeongguk, holding a single glass of water in his hand.

He shrugs off his blazer that he’s wearing over his briefs (you’ve helped yourself to his button up), and sits next to where you’re laying down. He nudges you his foot till you sit up and take the water from him.

It’s a content type of quiet while you both pass the glass back and forth, sharing. It only last for a minute or two before Jeongguk is clearing your throat.

“So… what happened to your plant, hmm?”

He must have seen the pitiful looking succulent in your living room when he went to get the water. And you know he’s just messing around and that he only said it to strike conversation and fill the silence, but still, it makes something ugly stir in your gut.

“You didn’t remind me,” you say, trying to literally shrug it off and give the topic a quick stop.

But Jeongguk is giggling as he says back, “Oh, so it’s my fault?”

“Everything is your fault.”

It’s snappy and said with enough bitterness that Jeongguk is physically taken aback. But then he thinks and then he softens.

“Hey,” he says gently.

You look at him, eyes swirling with a mixture of anger and hurt.

Jeongguk brushes a little bit of your hair out of your face as he looks you over. “I know,” he acknowledges quietly. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am, but I hope with some time, you’ll be able to see it.”

You frown a little before giving him a sad small smile and you bring your hand up to cup his cheek. He turns into the touch and gives your palm a soft kiss.

“I know you’re sorry,” you tell him, “I know you are and I forgive you –my head knows that but– my heart is still sad.”

Something about how you say it reminds Jeongguk of how young you are. But not in the way it did before. Not like your youth is a burden, or a red flag. It just reminds him that he needs to be careful with you.

“I know, and that’s okay… I know it’s going to take time,” Jeongguk gives you a sad, yet understanding shrug.

And for once, it’s a good thing that time does what time is meant to. It passes and it allows things to grow; for things to heal.

“Speaking of time,” you say, lightheartedly trying to change the subject, “How long do I have you?”

“As long as you want me.”

Jeongguk’s reply is met with the most underwhelmed, flat stare you have every given him. He snorts before he says, “Till tomorrow afternoon– I have to pick up Nari.”

His heart feels like it’s going to explode in his chest when he sees how your eyes light up at the mention of his daughter, at how you jabber on with questions about her. How has she been?, Is she talking yet?, Does she still have that narwhal?

There’s a chance that he might regret it, but there’s also a chance that he might not.

So he asks, “Do you want to come with me?”

~~~

However long Jeongguk said it takes to get to his ex-wife’s house, all those months ago, escapes you.

But right now, it feels like 10 years and 10 minutes all at once.

It’s dramatic, yes, how terribly you’ve been fidgeting in the passenger seat of the Mercedes. Even Jeongguk’s big, warm hand petting at your knee can’t quell the nerves.

It’s making the atmosphere tense, and you feel bad when Jeongguk sounds like he’s walking on eggshells when he tells you, “Thank you for coming with me, I’m really happy you did.”

You feel even worse when you respond with, “I don’t think I want to go to the door with you.”

The ever-soothing hand on your leg stutters for barely a second before continuing just as it was.

“That’s totally fine,” he assures you, eyes on the road and one hand on the steering wheel. “You don’t have to, but if you change your mind, you can. It is your choice.”

The hand squeezes your thigh reassuringly.

And it’s quiet for the rest of the drive. Until Jeongguk is pulling into an empty spot in the driveway of a very big, very nice house. Right next to a Porsche.

“Of fucking course.”

“___.”

“No, you’re right,” you say, raising your hands appeasingly, “You’re right, I shouldn’t even be surprised–”

Jeongguk interrupts you with his hands on your cheeks and his lips on your.

“Shut.” He gives you one kiss. “Up.” He gives you two kiss.

His affection makes the tension in your body dissipate and your shoulders slump. “I’m sorry.”

With his thumbs rubbing over the apples of your cheeks, he gives you a small, understanding, patient smile. Then he asks if you’re sure about not coming to the door with him because he is stupid.

You tell him as much as you reiterate how you do not want to go to the door and this time, Jeongguk is the one raising his hands in surrender as he exits the car.

Leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Should you get out of the car? Wait inside? Should you have brought Nari a gift? Will she remember you? What if she doesn’t?

When you hear a distant, familiar baby-giggle, you end up opening the door and standing between Jeongguk’s car and Dasom’s. You feel a little dumb until you hear the pitter patter of little feet on the brick driveway.

“I have a surprise for you Nana,” you hear Jeongguk sing cutely.

And you hear Nari gasp excitedly in response, even cuter.

As the pair get closer, you can see Jeongguk’s top half over the car, how his arm is swinging back and forth because of the tiny hand that’s holding his where you can’t see.

Nari is dressed in a black jumper dress with a long-sleeved heart-patterned shirt on underneath when she pops out from behind the car and next to her dad. Kept warm from the slight chill in the air by her knitted tights and her teeny-tiny ugg boots. She’s still round, but she’s gotten taller and you coo softly to yourself.

But Nari hears the little noise you make and when she sees you, she stops in her tracks. Her little bobble head looking between you and Jeongguk. Then she’s tugging on her dad’s pinky that she’s got a hold of.

“___!” she says as she nods towards you, like she’s letting Jeongguk know that you’re right there. She sounds sure, almost a little bossy. Doesn’t stutter even a second to remember you. Kind of like she never forgot you.

“Ah– what’s with the nodding missy?” Jeongguk tuts, then he looks at you and shakes his head exasperated yet amused.

Nari has the nerve to giggle, a big girl no longer brought to tears by her daddy’s scoldings. She looks up at him grinning before she shrugs, like she doesn’t know what got into her. As she raises her little shoulders, her free hand comes up too for emphasis. And gripped tightly in her little hand is her stuffed narwhal.

You’re happy.

~~~~~~~~~

aaaaand SCENE. omg heyyyy long time no see girlfriends <3 i hope that u think this was worth the wait but am debilitatingly scared that it did not meet ur expectations so i am hiding <3 im sorry for how long it took but it is here now n that is all my tiny hands have to offer!! i would love to know what u thought, so please do al the things: reblog, like, comment, send an ask~~ thank u for waiting for me and for reading ily muah :*

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schemmentigfs · 11 months ago

Text

Future Milf, part one.

paring: melissa schemmenti x fem reader.

summary: what was supposed to be a normal monday morning at Abbott, ends up being a chaotic one after you lend Melissa one especific t-shirt.

warnings: sexual themes? The rest is just pure crack.

author notes: I got this idea after listening to M.I.L.F $ by Fergie? Anyways, it's finally here, I'm must say that I'm pretty proud of this one. Stay tuned for part two! And yes, I watched heartstrooper and thought the drum scene was cute, so I added here.

English is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes.

When you arrived at Abbott in that morning, one curious feeling of both happiness and anxiety coursed through your body. And even though you found it completely strange, you decided to ignore it.

“Good morning, Y/n!” Janine said waving to you in the hallway. “How was your weekend?”

You smiled noticing her presence, as much as everyone else always said that Janine's way of acting was a bit annoying. The other teachers had to addmit that she was a good person who was always willing to help when needed.

“Morning!” you replied, unlocking the door to your classroom, ready to start another day at school. “It was good! On Saturday, I went to my parents to visit them for a family dinner. And on Sunday I spent the afternoon at Melissa's place.” You let out a passionate sigh remembering the day in the company of your favorite redhead.

It was a lovely afternoon, you cooked together, talked about different things and at the end, you watched a movie together, with Mel's hands gently stroking your hair while you were lying on her lap. “Hon, you are so cute,” she whispered softly, leaving her famous bravado aside, and showing her sweet and loving side instead.

To be honest, you loved these moments with the older woman, it made you feel protected, relaxed and loved. Something you hadn't felt in a long time. Melissa Schemmenti was your safe place. That same tough second grade teacher who took almost three months to have a friendly conversation with you was now one of your best friends. Yeah, fate was something that was really fucking powerful.

After listening to your last words, Janine let a huge smile escape her lips, before she started to celebrate. “I knew it! I knew it!” The youngest said, jumping up and down excitedly.

“Knew what?” you questioned with a confused expression.

“It was a date, wasn't it?” she asked with hope in her eyes.

“No!”

“Wait what? I thought you and Melissa were dating. Guess I was wrong. Again.” The second grade teacher revealed, completely disappointed looking at you.

After seeing your friend's reaction, you widen your eyes in shock. Was she really serious?

“Janine, why did you think we were dating?”

“It’s kind of obvious, she calls you by cute Italian nicknames, brings you coffee every morning. Share her lunch with you, let you hug her, and she always laughs at your jokes! You two are practically married in the eyes of everyone who works here at Abbott!” She talked non-stop.

Janine could only be out of her mind, a relationship between you and Melissa was impossible to happen. You were co-workers for god's sake, and also the redhead was known for being completely closed off when it came to relationships. Since her divorce with Joe was a traumatic experience.

Deep down, you were completely in love with Melissa. But tried to suppresses your feelings, knowing it would never be reciprocated. After all, what would a beautiful woman like her want with someone like you?

It was painful, but you couldn't do anything about it.

Turning your head to the sides to make sure there was no one else in the hallway, you started talking. “What I have with Melissa is just a normal friendship between two women. Something platonic and not romantic! Okay?”

“But—” she insisted.

“Let's just forget about this.” You sighed and Janine finally gave up, nodding and giving you a sad smile saying goodbye and returning to her classroom.

“You can’t keep lying to yourself.” Mr Johnson’s voice caught your attention.

“Huh?”

“You like Melissa, and you know that,” the janitor says as he sweeps the floor, eliminating any sign of dirt. “You may not have noticed yet, but she likes you too. Act while you have the chance, otherwise you will regret it if she finds someone else.” He said, before leaving.

Now alone in the hallway, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath, thinking about his words and Janine's. Were they right? No. They were insane.

“Why did everyone suddenly decide to give their opinion on my love life?” You grumbled, looking at the watch on your wrist. There were twenty minutes until the kids arrived, so you decided to stop by the staff room for some coffee and also to refresh your mind.

—

When you entered the teachers' lounge, you saw a curious scene. Jacob was completely nervous while Melissa was furious. Gregory and Barbara were there watching everything and trying to calm her down but without success.

“JACOB!” the redhead shouted angrily pointing to her pink sweater and looking at the young boy with a deadly glare. “LOOK WHAT YOU DID!”

“I'm sorry! It wasn't my intention, I ended up getting distracted and—” the history teacher stuttered nervously.

“JUST—” She almost started to argue again but stopped when she felt Barb's gaze and yours on her. “be more careful next time, we don’t want any accidents like this happening again,”

Jacob nodded, apologizing once more, returning to sit on the small sofa, next to Gregory. Focusing on the news that played on Channel 6.

“Dear, are you okay?” Barb asked worriedly, putting a hand on her best friend's shoulder.

“Yeah, the only problem is that I don’t have any spare clothes to wear.” Melissa responds.

Seeing the older woman's frustration, you decided to quickly help her, knowing that she was starting to get uncomfortable with her favorite sweater's situation.

“Don't worry, I can lend you one. I always keep one in case something like this happens.” You replied with a small smile.

Melissa sighed in relief, it was as if a miracle had fallen from the earth when she needed it most.

“Thanks, Stellina. You are an angel.”

You blush at the nickname she gives you. Maybe Janine wasn't so wrong. Just maybe.

“Let’s go.” you pulled her by the arm heading to your classroom.

—

You guided Melissa to sit in one of the chairs and closed the door, heading towards your drawer looking for the shirt. It took a long time to find it, as everything was slightly messed up. The redhead rolled her eyes, pretending to be impatient.

“Apparently it looks like youse need to learn how organize your things better.” The older woman mocks you.

“Shut up, Schemmenti. I’m trying to help ya,” after a lot of effort, you finally found it, “here, it’s a little wrinkled but I think it should be fine for you to use for the rest of the day,”

Melissa let out a soft smile, taking the shirt you handed her. “Thanks again for helping me. I appreciate this.”

“No problem, I’ll always give you a hand whenever you need it,” you replied with a shrug.

In the three years that you had known each other, She had done so many things for you. So it was only fair that you pay her back, right?

“Uh, I’ll turn around now so you can have more privacy to change,” you said and she nodded, giving you a thumbs up.

You turned around, facing the classroom door, letting out a muffled laugh when she mumbled, “Thank God I won't have soup on my body anymore.”

Everything was going normally, until you heard something else that made your heartbeat increase with each passing second.

“Future Milf, hm?” Melissa said inspecting the shirt, reading the print with a confused expression. “It’s probably a term that those of you who are young use. I liked it.”

Hearing that made you freeze, it was as if the whole world had stopped at that moment. It couldn't be. No. It could only be a completely ridiculous nightmare or dream of yours. She was a natural joker, always picking on you with some prank or something else. She was joking, right?

Fuck, had you really given her that shirt by accident? Oh shit, you were so screwed. The only good thing about this situation was that she didn't know what the word milf meant.

If she knew, you'd probably be dead by now.

Melissa snapped her fingers, a sign that you could turn around again. The action brought you back to reality, but you were too embarrassed to look at your friend in the eyes again.

“What do you think?” she asked, adjusting the t-shirt on her body, waiting for your answer anxiously. Melissa wouldn't never admit it, but your opinion was something very important to her.

You kept quiet, nervous about what had just happened. It felt like a nightmare, for some reason. After school, you would probably go to the supermarket to buy a giant bottle of wine to drink while watching some horrible Netflix TV show trying to forget all of this.

When you focused your gaze on her figure, your mouth opened into a big 'o'. She looked stunning, with her signature black leather pants, boots and well.. that t-shirt had made Melissa look so hot, that you couldn't look at anything else in the room. It definitely suited her.

“Y/n? What do you think?” She repeats.

“You look amazing, Lissa,” you say playing with the rings in your fingers. A common habit that occurred when anxiety took over.

Melissa, who was always perceptive, studied you carefully. “Hon, are you alright?” she asked with a bit of concern in her tone.

“Yeah, I'm fine, just was thinking about...” you stop trying to think of an excuse to explain why you were distracted, “a funny thing Janine told me earlier, that's it.”

“What would it be?” She asks.

“I—It's a very stupid thing, I mean you know how she is,” you let out a nervous laugh, “I think you better ask her at lunch, Mel.”

The redhead raises her eyebrows, a little suspicious. Just as Melissa was about to speak, the voices of the children in the hallway interrupted her, making you two realize how much time had passed.

“Oh! Our students.”

“Yeah, they arrived,” Melissa says, “Well, I think I have to go now, your little devils will be here at any moment. See ya at lunch?”

“Of course, and Mel?”

“What, hon?”

“You look beautiful.” It accidentally slips out of your mouth, leaving you pale and afraid of her reaction. Of course, you had already said that Melissa was beautiful several times, but this time something different was in the air.

You didn't notice the way her cheeks flushed.

“Thanks gorgeous,” the eldest grins and wink at you. Was she flirting?

When Melissa was no longer there, you covered your face with your hands to stifle a scream that threatened to escape your throat. What was supposed to be a calm Monday, turned into a chaotic one due to a slight mistake of yours.

—

Ava was passing in the hallway when she saw Melissa walking calmly to her classroom. The principal's eyes widened when she saw the redhead wearing a t-shirt with the words “Future Milf” printed on it.

“Why the hell is she wearing that? That's not something Schemmenti would wear. Especially at school grounds.” she whispered to herself.

By coincidence, Gregory was also in the hallway and was surprised by her pulling him by his coat.

“Huh?” the man said, confused. “Ava? What are you doing?”

“Relax handsome, I just need you to answer something,” she said, looking at him,“do you know why Melissa is wearing that thing? the woman pointed to the teacher.

“Y/n lent it to her after Jacob accidentally spilled food on her sweater earlier,” he explained. “Why?”

“Did you saw the damn print on it?” Ava asked, rolling her eyes and Gregory shook his head with a puzzled expression.

“Then wait and see at lunchtime. I'm telling ya, this is going to be more fun than any episode of The Kardashians!” she laughed looking towards one of the cameras.

—

Meanwhile, you tried to focus on teaching your students. But it was practically impossible. Every time you closed your eyes or tried to explain something. Your mind thought of Melissa wearing the damn shirt.

“Ms. Y/n? Are you feeling alright?” Leah, one of your students asked, snapping you out of your trance.

“Yes, sweetheart. Don't need to worry about me.” you replied with a calm voice. She smiled and returned to pay attention to her activity.

The hours passed quickly after that, much to your dismay. It was good on the one hand: in a while you would be home soon. But the bad thing was that you would have to lunch next to Melissa Ann Schemmenti wearing that fucking milf shirt of yours.

You thought of some solutions to avoid her presence, but gave up. Knowing it wasn't fair to do so. Defeated, you went to the staff room.

—

Barbara was looking for the redhead you wanted to avoid at that moment. The eldest knocked on Melissa's classroom door, waiting to be welcomed by the teacher herself or her aide, Ashely. But that didn't happen.

Determined, she decided to enter anyway, raising her brows when she saw a curious scene.

Her best friend was pacing the room while mumbling something. “Y/n, do you want to go on a date with me? We could go to a restaurant and—” Melissa said to herself, “No, too formal that doesn’t suit me. And I would prefer a date at home, where we could...”

The brunette now leaning against the wall let out a soft chuckle that scared the redhead.

“Jesus Christ!” Melissa gasped with her hand on her chest. The kindergarten teacher rolled her eyes, “Barb, you scared me to death.”

“Haven’t you asked her out yet?” her friend got straight to the point, “Oh Lord, you've already been faster than that. Tell me sweetheart, what's stopping you?”

The green-eyed woman looked away, feeling a little embarrassed, “I'm just scared. Y/n is only in her twenties, she has her whole life ahead of her and I'm already at a certain age. What will she want with me?”

Barb saw how her voice immediately sounded small and trembling, falling in love was a delicate thing in Melissa Schemmenti's life, her marriage was a totally traumatic experience. And after that, she completely closed herself off, thinking that being in a relationship wasn't something for her. That she simply didn't deserve to be loved.

But that started to change when you arrived in her life. It took Melissa a while to figure out the many confusing feelings she had for you. After several sleepless nights, questioning the butterflies in her stomach that always appeared when you were around, she understood that it was love.

But this realization scared her.

“I know it may seem scary but you have to try. Besides, don't you realize? That girl is crazy about you, just like you are about her,” Barb says trying to calm her, “Believe me, this time you will discover that love doesn't hurt.”

Her words made the redhead remember the moment she realized she was in love with you.

[...]

It was New Year's Eve and Melissa was speeding the night at your house. That same afternoon, she had attended lunch with her family and as much as she loved how festive the other Schemmentis were, but it seemed like something was missing from that environment, and that was you. And this feeling of longing made her run to your place immediately.

Now she was in your bedroom trying to practice on your drum kit, while you were laying down on an improvised pillow fort that both of you built together a couple of days ago. Honestly, playing the drums wasn't something Melissa knew how to do, so she played in a completely clumsy way without being able to find a certain rhythm.

“Schemmenti, you're so fucking terrible at this,” you joked. “It's so easy to learn.”

Pretending to be irritated by your words, the redhead reached for a pillow and threw it in your direction. Prepared to start a pillow fight if challenged.

“Hey!” you grumbled, raising your hands in the air in redemption. “Mel, I’m kidding!”

“Then show me instead of standing there, idiot.”

You slowly approached, sitting next to her on the small bench. “Alright, let me teach you a little.”

You held Melissa's hands in yours, first teaching her how to properly hold the drumsticks. “Hold them tight. And don’t let them slip out of your hands,” you whispered. “Good job, Mel,” you praised her, feeling her hold the drumsticks tighter. She blushed hearing that.

While you were extremely focused, showing her how to play the instrument. Her green eyes watched you with love and adoration, at that moment, she realized how lucky she was to have you by her side.

Her gaze fell to your lips and Melissa wondered if they were as soft as they appeared to be. She also wondered what it would be like to wake up every day next to you, with her arms wrapped around your small waist and with her placing small kisses into your hair. Or what it would be like to kiss and touch your whole body listening to your soft coos while she showed how much she loved you.

She bites her lips with all of those images in her mind.

After hearing the sounds of fireworks, you turn away from the older woman and open your bedroom window and climb up to a small outcropping of the roof. While Melissa watches you curiously, still sitting in front of the drums. "What are you doing? I wouldn’t want you to have an accident in the middle of the New Year.”

“I’m not going to have an accident,” you rolled your eyes, “I just want to see the fireworks!”

Melissa shook her head, finding your excitement adorable, deciding to join you. Carefully sitting by your side, she rested her head on your shoulder and closed her eyes, wanting to enjoy this moment with you forever.

“You know...I kind of missed you at my family's lunch today,” the redhead admitted in a shy tone, feeling her cheeks burn.

That was a surprise for both of you, since you knew that she wasn't very used to physical touches or showing her vulnerable side.

Noticing her nervousness, you said something that made Melissa feel more relaxed again,“I missed you too. Staying with you is so much more fun than being here alone.”

She hummed and snuggled into you even more, making a smile escape your lips. The two of you enjoyed the comfortable silence that settled in. Wishing more good moments like this would happen.

Returning from her memory, Melissa stood up and ignored Barbara's malicious look and headed towards the door ready to go to lunch.

—

You were already in the teachers' lounge, and every time you heard a step, you felt your heart stop. The plan to try to avoid Melissa was still going through your head, but neither option was good, suddenly an idea came.

You threw yourself on the floor and quickly crawled to a table near the windows, hiding under it, the cameras filmed your movements and your friends' confused reactions.

“Y/N! What are you doing?” Janine asks.

“Nothing,” you grumbled, praying to eat in peace, “I'm just having lunch, like a normal person does.”

“You are literally eating under the table. That’s definitely not something you would do and everyone knows that. And it's kind of weird.” Gregory notes.

You were surprised by Ava, who ran in. Not wanting to miss anything she knew was going to happen. The principal loved an entertainment and the whole school knew. “I don’t think Melissa would mind if you said you consider her a milf. She would probably love it, saying it's hot and all of that shit,” she shrugged.

“What?” Jacob questioned.

“AVA!” you scolded her, “You aren't helping! And by the way, how do you know about this?”

“Girl, I know everything. And I must say, it's the funniest thing I've ever seen in my life.”

“What’s going on?” Janine alternates her gaze between the two of you.

You explained everything in detail to all of them who to be honest found it all a bit comical, but seeing the way you were nervous made them take it back.

After hearing Melissa and Barbara's voices, you got scared and shrank even more under the table. Hoping they wouldn't notice you. But that didn't happen. When the redhead entered, all attention quickly went straight to her. The cameras zoomed in on what she was using and everyone was shocked.

“What are you looking at?” She growls in a threatening tone and the teachers return to focusing on their activities, afraid of her. You laughed, that was so Melissa. And that's what ruined the chance to avoid her.

“Dear? What are you doing under the table?” Barbara asks.

“I was just seeing if...the tables were in a good condition! That's it, actually, I have to go now,” you walk towards the door, but a firm hand on your wrist stops you.

“Where are you going? I thought we agreed to have lunch together,” Melissa spoke.

“It’s not a good idea for us to do that,” you pull away from her touch. Waiting for her to give in, but something unexpected happened.

She took the lunch bag from your hands, standing on her tiptoes so as not to let you reach and looking straight into your eyes.

“Give me that back now!” You complain and she shakes her head.

“Tell me, what’s really going on? Why can you barely look at me?” she whispers that last part.

“It doesn't matter.” You respond, feeling your blood rise and your breathing slowly fail.

“Can you stop acting like a child and act like an adult, for once?” She retorts, making you roll your eyes.

“FUCK YOU MELISSA,” you yelled and everyone gasped. In years of working at Abbott, you had never raised your voice to anyone, especially the redhead, “JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!”

Melissa's eyes widened, surprised to see you facing her and saying that stuff. A feeling of pain settled in her body, but obviously she didn't show it.

Impatient and without thinking twice. You threw yourself at the older woman, who got scared, losing her balance. Because of this, both fell to the icy ground.

Melissa hit her back, letting out a groan of pain, seeing what you had caused, you quickly stood up, getting off of her.

“I’m sorry, Lissa. I’m so fucking stupid,” you tremble, feeling tears come out of your eyes.

Feeling overwhelmed, you ran out of the lounge, leaving a bewildered redhead.

“Y/N, PLEASE COME BACK HERE!” Melissa's voice echoed throughout the school, now she was going to worry about trying to fix what the hell had happened between you two. And it wouldn't be easy.

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x you #abbott elementary #wlw #lisa ann walter #abbott elementary fanfiction #x reader

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littlereaderxfandoms · 11 months ago

Text

Weekend Gone Wrong

caregiver!hotch x caregiver!spencer x caregiver!derek x little!fem!reader + little friends

Summary: This weekend has been in the making for two weeks. Two weeks of no regression and constant stress. Hopefully, nothing goes wrong.

Genre: Hurt/Comfort (?)

Length: 3.1k words

You shut your laptop with a sigh, exhausted, when you see a text from Derek that they were leaving the office. The last two weeks have been bad for you mentally, physically and emotionally. The guys haven’t had a chance to be home in the last almost three weeks due to back-to-back cases, you found out that your parents couldn’t pay for your university anymore because of which you have picked up more shifts and started another job while the guys were working and one of the courses you are taking this semester is kicking your butt. With the whirlwind that it has been over the last few weeks, you and the guys had decided to have this weekend off for everyone so all of you can catch up, relax and especially indulge in some much-needed little-caregiver time.

You were really looking forward to this and couldn’t wait for the guys to get home. Unfortunately, you still did have a little bit of waiting to do as they drove home. You decide to heat up the food you made for everyone, having had decided to wait for them to eat dinner together. Although, you didn’t think it would be past midnight by the time they got home. You didn’t mind though, since you hadn’t really realized the time anyway as you worked on some assignments. You also got yourself a glass of water, knowing the guys would inquire about water and food and quite frankly, you had not done a very good job in either department about looking after yourself.

You can’t help but smile as soon as you hear the door open, resisting your urge to run to them and jumping up and down like a kid in a candy store. But even if you did it, it was justified because this was better than a whole candy store. Okay, maybe not a whole candy store but definitely a trip to the candy store.

“Hey, princess.” Derek grinned as he pulled you into a hug after dropping his bag by the door, but you could see how tired he was as you hugged him.

“Darling…” Aaron pulled you out from Derek’s arms and into his, squeezing you tight before you pulled away and hugged Spencer, knowing he wouldn’t have spoken up.

“How was the trip back home? I have dinner heated up, we can eat and talk?” You say, turning around in Spencer’s arms.

“You,” Spencer kisses your cheek as Derek and Aaron smile at you before starting to move to the kitchen, “are the most amazing, beautiful, and caring girlfriend ever. I can’t believe we got this lucky.”

You giggle as you pull away from him, pulling him to the kitchen where the other two are already setting up and getting the food plated. “You’re only saying that because I’m feeding you.”

“Never!” All three chirp in, making everyone laugh.

Everyone stands around the kitchen counter, eating your home-cooked lasagna as you talked about anything and everything with each other, forgetting how tiring the last few weeks had been.

Well, that is until Derek’s phone rings, breaking the trance. Derek goes out to answer it, letting the three of you be.

“Hey guys,” Derek comes in, looking a little serious as he came back in after a few minutes, “it was Ace.”

You can see everyone turning serious at that, including yourself. Ace is one of the littles in your local community as somewhat of a friend. He is in a relationship with a caregiver, Jason, and another little, Jenny. The four of you have never liked Jason and have warned Ace and Jenny about the same but the two of them said that they loved Jason and were not willing to discuss it with any of you. That had drawn a drift between the friendship but you had made it clear that if they ever needed any of you, you were just a call away.

“What happened?” Aaron is the first to ask.

“Apparently, things have been going bad and they need to get out. Jenny is involuntarily regressing and Ace has been struggling. They need a place for a few days.”

“They are more than welcome here, they know that,” Spencer says, making Aaron nod in agreement.

“I just wanted to ask everyone if they are okay with this before I tell them that they can come over,” Derek said, looking at you for final approval.

“Of course, they can stay with us! They are our friends!” You speak up, not really thinking about what it would mean for the weekend you had planned.

A few hours later, a regressed Jenny was sleeping on your couch while Ace, you, and the guys went over how to best help the two. It was decided that it would be a regressed weekend for all three of us as Ace had been struggling a lot too.

You were none too happy about it as it meant that you would basically be having a little sleepover, something you have never done before.

After figuring out where everyone would be sleeping, Ace and you were sent to bed while the guys cleaned up and put Jenny to bed. You tried to wait up a little to see if one of the guys would come with you to kiss you goodnight but only got hugs and a nudge to get to bed, just like Ace. Thankfully, the exhaustion from your long shifts at your jobs helped put you to sleep almost immediately, reminding you that you needed to tell the guys that you had gotten a second job at some point.

The next morning was… horrible to say the least. You woke up with a migraine, probably a result of your lack of self-care over the last few weeks. Jenny seemed to be in baby space and kept crying loudly unless one of your caregivers was holding her. Ace was… like a way too energetic toddler, to put it nicely as he threw tantrum after tantrum, broke a bowl because it wasn’t the one he chose as it was your favorite, and wouldn’t eat anything the guys made until after they had made it.

All you wanted to do was stay in bed after realizing what the situation was downstairs. Unfortunately for you, the guys never allowed you to stay in bed past nine without a good reason. And with how annoyed, tired, and frustrated they were, you almost felt bad for Derek as he came into your room and almost yelled at you to get out of bed, not waiting to hear what you had to say as he was called back downstairs.

This weekend was supposed to be peaceful and relaxing for everyone and so far, it had been anything but. And it didn’t get any better as the day progressed. The guys were preoccupied with Ace and Jenny while you kept to yourself, studying in your room, after getting an unfair timeout because you didn’t want to give Ace your favorite stuffed bear after the way he had been so playing badly with your other toys. Yeah, being little was out of the question after that.

You knew that the guys were trying their best here and that Ace and Jenny deserved this regression time as much as you if not more but you couldn’t help but feel hurt and neglected. You were trying your best to be nice and welcoming but it was hard for you too and it felt like that wasn’t being acknowledged either. After the disastrous day, you hoped that tomorrow would be better as the guys came into the room to kiss you goodnight and read you a bedtime story with an apology about not being able to spend enough time with you like you had been planning.

“Plans don’t always work out. It’s okay.” You shrugged with a smile.

“You are way too understanding princess.” Aaron kissed your forehead again.

“Did you get any little relaxation time at all today?” Derek asked, making you shrug again, not wanting to make them feel bad.

“Had a lot of studying to do.” You bury your face in Aaron’s chest so you don’t have to look at them. “But I’m tired now. I’m sure you guys are too. Sleep?”

The guys murmured their agreement as the four of you went to bed for the night, Derek and Spencer giving you a few more kisses before letting you get to sleep with Aaron.

The next day did not turn out good either. You were out of groceries and the guys had decided that everyone would go to the supermarket together when you offered to be big and go get them. Clearly, they didn’t like the idea even remotely. But the disaster at the supermarket definitely made them regret their decision.

Ace was running around constantly while Jenny insisted that she wanted to be holding hands with two of the guys. You were doing pretty good and you could see how grateful the guys were for it as you helped them without a ruckus. However, the manager, who was also your manager after you started working there a couple weeks ago recognized you and was all too happy to chat with you, making the guys shoot you questioning looks. Then, as you used the employee discount during checkout, Aaron finally spoke up about it.

“Since when do you work here?” Aaron asked as he put the groceries in the bag while the others got ice cream from the truck outside. “You didn’t tell us you changed your job.”

“Um… yeah… We really need to talk ab-“ You were cut off when you heard a commotion outside, seeing Derek and Spencer trying to get Ace and a crying Jenny away from Jason.

“Shit.” Aaron quickly picked up the bags before starting to make his way out after making sure that you followed him.

Everyone quickly piled up in the car, getting on our way back home. The guys checked on Ace and Jenny before everyone fell silent. After sorting out the groceries at home, Ace, Jenny, and the guys talked in their office while I cooked dinner for everyone, wanting to get a distraction.

As everyone settled down for dinner, it was announced that Ace and Jenny were going to move in with Jenny’s parents for now and that it was their last night there. You also realized that the day was coming to an end… along with the weekend. Tomorrow, you would be getting back to work and classes while the guys would be going back to work too.

While you were glad to have been there for your friends, it hurt that the chance you had gotten to relax after weeks of loneliness and stress was gone, just like that. And that night, as the others decided to have a movie night per Jenny’s request, you left and cried yourself to sleep.

Waking up to an empty bed the next day didn’t help how you felt about the weekend as you got ready to leave for work, catching a glimpse of the others asleep in the living room as you left.

The next few days were a blur of you barely being home and the guys hounding you to try and talk to you. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to talk to them but you just didn’t have time anymore. You were quite literally spending the nights at the library as you stressed over the approaching midterms, you weren’t looking after your health, you were managing events for three different societies on campus and everything was just too much. It felt like there wasn’t enough time in the day to get everything done.

You weren't sure if it was a good thing that whenever you were home, the guys weren’t. You were somewhat grateful, not wanting to confront them. But at the same time, you were feeling lonely and guilty for not being there for the guys.

It wasn’t long before the guys put there foot down.

As you entered the home on Friday evening, if the chatter was anything to go by, you could tell they were all home. At 2 pm. Mhm-mhm. This was not good.

“In here!” You heard Derek yell out, making it certain that there was no running away from this.

You take your time, putting your things away before going to the kitchen where the guys were standing around the counter, snacking on some chips and popcorn.

“Hey darling.” Aaron gave you a side hug, kissing your forehead. “We need to talk.”

“Let me give her a hug first!” Derek exclaimed before coming to you and pulling you into a bear hug, making your eyes water. You didn’t realize how touch starved you were until now. You hugged him back tighter, trying to keep your tears at bay.

“Oh baby.” Derek hugs you tighter when he feels your tears wetting his shirt as you bury your face in his chest.

“Is she okay?” You hear Spencer whisper, before you pull away and nod, going to stand by him and giving him a side hug.

“I’m okay, just tired. And missed you guys.” You mumble as Spencer pulls you into a proper hug.

“Turn her around Spence.” You hear Aaron instruct Spencer as he turns you around in his arms while still hugging you from behind.

“Before we start this discussion, we need you to know that we love you and this is not about us breaking up with you so don’t even let your brain go there.” Aaron gave you a look, knowing you would go to the worst-case scenario first. You nodded before speaking up, “I love you guys.”

Spencer kissed you head while Derek and Aaron gave you a smile.

“Honey, you have been pushing us away lately.” Aaron started with a sad smile.

“And you are almost never home.” Derek adds pointedly.

“Yeah… about that… I kind of took up a second job…” You cringe a little as they give you a look.

“And you are telling us that now? When did you start?” Derek asks, eyebrows furrowed.

“Why did you even get another job to begin with?” Spencer asks and you can hear the confusion in his voice.

You sigh as you start to explain. “My parents won’t be paying for my university anymore. They have given me access to the loan but I want to try and not use much from it.”

“You should have told us princess.” Aaron looks at you with a softened expression.

“You know we can help right?” Spencer speaks up.

“We earn more than we need anyway. We can help you pay for university.” Derek adds.

“But I don’t want you to do that. You guys already let me live here rent free.” You protest.

“I own the house, of course I’m not going to let you pay rent.” Derek shakes his head.

“Yeah but still! I don’t want to make you pay for my university too!” You protest.

“Because you feel like you owe us?” Aaron asks softly, making you look down. You don’t want to hurt them but if something were to happen in the future, you didn’t want to feel like you owed them. And university wasn’t cheap.

“What if you earn it?” Spencer asks.

“What do you mean?” You tilt you head back to look up before Spencer pulls away and turns to around again so you can look at him easily.

“Well, you look after the house when we aren’t home which takes away the burden of getting a house sitter. You keep everything clean while we are gone too and help us with chores during other times. This way, we will be paying for the chores and house sitting you are doing for us.” Spencer explains while everyone listens intently, Aaron and Derek nodding along.

“That’s actually a good idea. We can even come up with a pay rate for it. And if we come back from somewhere and the house isn’t clean, then we can deduct from that pay.” Derek adds.

“I agree. Does that sound fair to you darling?” Aaron speaks up as you lean on the counter, biting your lip as you contemplate.

“I mean… yeah I guess that sounds fair. But I still don’t love it.” You bite your lip nervously before Spencer pulls it out, kissing you cheek softly.

“You can still keep doing one of your jobs. We just don’t want you to overwork yourself sweetheart.” Aaron gives you a soft smile, making you smile at them.

“Gosh, how did I get so lucky with you guys.” You think out loud.

“I think it might have a lot to do with your word vomit during your field trip at the bureau.” Spencer teases, making you blush as you are reminded of the first time you met.

“Okay, now that that is cleared up, you need to regress.” Derek says with a somewhat stern look.

“I need to email my manager and hand in my two week notice first. And I have a meeting with my drama society execs tonight. So… I don’t think today is a good idea.” You explain.

“Well, get the email to your manager done. After that, you are eating a snack and then taking a nap before your meeting.” Aaron directs you, making you smile at the instructions.

“After that, the rest of the weekend is ours and you are not getting out of regression this weekend. And we are also making you a regression schedule so you have scheduled relaxation times.” Derek adds.

“We will try to be there as much as we can, but if we aren’t then we will constantly be checking in over call.” Aaron says, leaning forward on the counter.

“We also need to apologize.” Spencer interrupts. “Last weekend, it was supposed to be our weekend. You were amazing through out the weekend even though we seemed to have neglected to look after you the way we had planned.”

“Spencer is right. We should have been more attentive towards you last weekend.” Aaron adds, nodding. “We are sorry honey.”

“Yeah, babygirl. We should have done a lot better. Forgive us?” Derek gives you a soft smile.

“Hmm…” You act like you are thinking. “Only if I get to stay up tonight.”

“Nope. You can have an extra scoop of ice cream but bed time isn’t budging.” Spencer said right away while Aaron and Derek nodded in agreement.

“Okay fine.” You pouted playfully but giggled as Aaron attacked you with tickles, trying to run away as Derek tried to save you and Spencer joined Aaron in trying to tickle you.

The rest of your night was the best one all week. Maybe things wouldn’t be so bad after all.

#criminal minds x y/n #little!reader x caregiver!spencer reid #little!reader #little reader #caregiver!hotch x little!reader #criminal minds x little reader #little!reader x caregiver!derek morgan #little!reader x caregiver!hotch #criminal minds agere #criminal minds

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toruro · 2 years ago

Text

— ✧ oh my!

pairing: xu minghao x reader

description: choosing to be roommates with vernon chwe would undeniably be one of the few life-changing decisions you made in your lifetime. he brought along support, friendship, and most importantly: a hot friend. — or, in which you’re roommates with vernon and you happen to fall for one of his many chaotic friends.

tags: smut (18+), oral (m receiving), just stupid mutual pining, fluff, seriously self indulgent, mentioned past toxic/controlling relationships

w/c: 13.6k

a/n: REPOSTED. this was my first attempt at a kpop fic ever and my first time writing smut so please bear with how awkwardly written it is. a fic that was supposed to be multiple parts but i couldn't come up with a real plot either so ummm … nevertheless i hope u enjoy!

I. OH MY!

Moving in with Vernon is among your top life changing decisions, pretty much ever.

You two met in college, first sharing a calculus class together and occasionally studying together. Your friendship was budding—he was someone you could count on and never had to second guess. Spending more time together, you naturally grew closer, eventually reaching a point that when Vernon mentioned moving out of his shitty studio, you two immediately decided to find a place together.

Fresh out of college, it was the best decision in all ways possible—money was not nearly as big of a burden as before, and it was fun having a friend to talk to whenever you wanted in the vicinity of your own home.

It’s been an enjoyable eight months since you two started renting out this place together, and this evening, you’re in the kitchen cooking some brownies with an old package of brownie mix you found shoved in the back of one of your cupboards. You’re making a bit of a mess, but you can only hope that Vernon doesn’t mind too much—you will clean it, after all.

You’re in the midst of pondering about how long it’ll take you to clean up the little (big) splatter of flour you dropped on the ground when there’s a buzzing that comes from your phone. You huff, looking down at your fingers that are coated in oil and brownie batter. Setting down the bowl you were mixing, you then go to wash your hands as the buzzing dies out. After wiping down any moisture left on your skin, you pick up the phone to see a missed call from Vernon.

Did he forget something? you wonder, pressing the call back button and holding your phone up to your ear. You hear him pick up the line almost immediately, curious to know why he called you. “Hey,” you say casually when you know he can hear you. “Everything good?”

There are a few voices in the background that you hear, and you recall how he told you this morning he’d be hanging out with his friends. “Yeah, yeah, everything’s great. Look, I was wondering if it would be okay with you if my friends came over to our place? I would’ve asked earlier but I didn’t think we would be hanging out more and…well you get it,” Vernon sighs.

Your lips make a little ‘o’ shape, nodding to yourself as if Vernon could see you right now. “Yeah of course they can come over!” you tell him.

“Are you sure?” he clarifies, and you smile at the sincerity. “It’s just—I mean like they’re probably going to stay a while?” It comes out as a question and you laugh. “Don’t laugh at me,” Vernon grumbles, “I’m just making sure because they’re probably going to stay late in the night and there’s a lot of them.”

“Yes Vernon, I know there’s a lot of them—twelve to be exact,” you retort. “Yes, I’m okay with it, it’s not like I do anything these days anyways. I’ll be fine,” you tell him honestly.

“Okay, thank you so much,” he replies, relieved. “We’ll be there in like ten minutes.”

“Ten?!” you shrieked, quickly taking in the giant mess you made around you, baffled when you think about how you’re going to clean this up.

“Yes, sorry,” Vernon murmurs. “These guys change their minds so much and—ugh—you get it. We’re already close to the apartment complex so we’re just going to come up. Is there a problem?”

You hum, looking around you. “I might’ve made a bit of a mess in the kitchen, but…but I’ll figure it out.”

Vernon laughs. “I doubt they’ll care—most of them are dogs.” You giggle at the muffled protests heard in the background before he continues. “Anyways, thank you, I owe you one. See you in five.”

Your phone beeps when he hangs up and you stand by yourself in the middle of the kitchen. “Five?” you whisper to yourself, “Fuck! He said ten! But now five? Fuck!”

You whip your head around to look at the kitchen, grimacing as you’re dawned with the realization that there is no way you’re going to clean this up before they come. It takes you around 5 seconds to debate your options, finally deciding to just give up on trying to clean up and focus on finishing the batter and getting the pan in the oven.

You set your phone back down on the counter, picking up the batter bowl and giving it a few more stirs to rid it of any clumps before spreading it all out on a pan. It takes you a few moments to find the mittens and stick it in the preheated oven, a wave of relief washing over you when you’re done.

That’s one thing out of the way…I guess , you think to yourself, letting your hair down from the tight up-do you had it in earlier. Looking down at your black t-shirt and yoga pants, you take a few moments to try and dust off whatever flour rubbed off on the cloth. Of course, many stains still remain, but you figured this was better than nothing.

You’re about to grab a broom to clean up the floor when you hear a knock at the door. Sighing in defeat, you wash your hands once before heading to the door. You’re placing your hand on the door knob before you hear some clicking, hesitating to open once you realize it’s Vernon on the other end unlocking it himself. You step back from the doorway as the door is pushed slightly ajar, allowing you to poke your head through the small gap.

You’re met with the sight of multiple guys crowding around the door, a slightly frantic and honestly exhausted-looking Vernon leading the group. “Hey,” he greets as you step back once more, pulling the door open fully.

“That was less than five minutes!” you exclaim, trying your best to ignore the gazes of the unfamiliar faces behind Vernon. You’ve seen pictures of them before on Vernon’s social media and stuff but you don’t really know them at all—you’re only aware of bits and pieces from the stories he tells you occasionally.

“I’m sorry!” he puts his hands up in surrender, stepping through the doorway as you back into the kitchen that remained in the chaotic state you left it in.

“I didn’t have time to clean!” you whine, frantically waving your hand at the kitchen, allowing Vernon to take in the scene.

“Hey, hey, hey,” a new voice pops in and you see a hand snake it’s way around Vernon’s shoulders. A man with blonde hair and a chiseled face looks at you sympathetically. “It’s not Vernon’s fault,” he tells you calmly. “You can blame it on us for changing plans quickly. Don’t worry, Vernon feels bad about it, he told us.”

You sigh, a small pout making its way onto your face. “Fine,” you huff as the rest of the boys fill the large room that contains the kitchen and living room. You aren’t sure what to do now, watching them all shuffle around, taking off their shoes and attempting (key word: attempting ) to organize them in front of the doorway. You hadn’t really thought this far ahead—should you go to your room now? Would it be awkward to just hang around here while they’re in the living room (your kitchen and living room are basically one large room, so there’s no real way to avoid them)?

You’re glad Vernon picks up on your uncertainty. He turns to his friends, speaking up and saying your name, which catches you by surprise. “My roommate,” he clarifies, as they all look at you. You smile awkwardly, giving a small wave before averting your gaze. Vernon then turns around, pointing at the couch across the room, “Now can one of you set up the Mario Kart?”

The rest of the boys nod, beginning to break out into small conversations by themselves as they all make their way to lounge in the connected room, finally giving you a bit of space to breathe (not that they were making you uncomfortable or anything—you’re just a little shy).

“I’m sorry again,” Vernon tells you, and you can hear the genuinity in his voice. “What were you making, by the way?” he asks curiously, peering over at the mess.

“It’s okay! And I was making brownies—I found some old box mixes in the back of the cupboard and I figured I should make them before they expire,” you explain, looking over at his friends who have now settled in the living room comfortably. “Do your friends want some? I’ve made a big enough batch for everyone, I’m sure,” you tell him.

“Are you sure?”

“Vernon can you stop asking me if I’m sure,” you complain loudly, running a hand over your face. You hear a snicker come from the other side of a room, catching sight of one of Vernon’s friends seated on ground, a playful smirk on his face upon hearing your conversation. You feel your ears burn, quickly turning back to Vernon. “Yes, I just made them for fun. It’s better to share with them than have us eat all of it,” you chuckle, picking up a dustpan from the corner of the kitchen to begin cleaning up.

“Okay fine,” Vernon murmurs. “Thank you a lot,” he concludes, finally turning and joining friends on the couch. You begin your work to clean up the flour you dropped on the ground, getting lost in your own little world after slipping in your airpods, tuning out the noises of rowdy men and Mario Kart sound effects.

You’re practically done with cleaning the kitchen when you hear your timer go off, nearly skipping to the oven to turn it off and pull out the pan of brownies you’ve been putting so much effort into. The aroma floats through the room, and you catch the glances of a few of Vernon’s friends who peek over, trying to get a look at whatever you’ve come up with.

You smile to yourself, placing the pan on the counter before pulling out a knife to make nice, even pieces. It takes you a few moments, but once you’re done, you look down at them happily. Slipping on your mittens, you carry the tray over to the living room, a small, upwards curve pulling at your lips.

The boy you remember from earlier—the one who laughed at your reaction to Vernon—notices you first, and you can’t help but wonder how you didn;t recognize him from any pictures because holy hell he’s pretty. His eyes are looking at you through heavy eyelashes and there’s a coy smile tugging at his lips—he’s charming .

It takes you a good five seconds to realize you’re staring at him and another five to realize he’s caught you in the act. You whip your head away, looking at the rest of the boys, some of which who are intently focused on the game on the screen, others of which who are indifferent.

“Um, I made some brownies, if you guys want,” you tell them all, clearing your throat. “They’re fresh, so they’re a little hot, but you can wait for them to cool down.” You set down the pan on the table as the rest of them quiet down, some immediately spewing out words of gratitude.

“Aren’t you going to have any?” one of them asks, and you recognize him as the tallest. Mingyu? You recall some stories about him.

You shrug. “I kind of just made it because we had the boxes left…I think it’d be better if you guys shared it.”

Another boy with glasses sitting on the armchair speaks up. “You can eat it with us—our way of saying thanks,” he encourages. You throw out a close lipped smile, glancing at Vernon as if to ask if this was all just a show of politeness or an actual offer. He offers the slightest nod, and your once tight smile is let loose. You nod your head cheerfully, looking around you to find a spot to sit.

Noticing your confusion, the boy with the blonde hair and sharp face from earlier points to your right. “Sit next to Minghao, I’m sure there’s room there.”

You look down, met with the gaze of him , trying your best to hide your twinge of excitement as you silently shuffle over and sit down at the edge of the rug. Minghao . You like that name, you say to yourself in your head before shaking your head lightly—what are you thinking? You can’t be crushing on a guy you just laid your eyes on!

Inhaling sharply, you turn your head to the screen, grateful to see everyone else’s attention has also averted to the heated one-on-one match between the glasses guy from earlier (you now have learned his name is Wonwoo) and Mingyu.

They’re a loud bunch, but you can’t find it in you to mind—watching them all get along so well, so freely, is liberating in itself. You feel relaxed in a way you didn’t know you could be.

As content as you feel right now though, there’s an anxious thought buzzing at the back of your mind, and no matter how desperately you try to push it back, it keeps crawling its way up, especially when you feel your thigh brush Minghao’s .

Stop it , you chide yourself. Stop it! A little more harshly. Stop thinking about him!

“Hey…” the first time he says it, the words don’t quite reach your ears. “Hey,” he says again, nudging your thigh with his knee, increasing the minimal physical contact you two already had. You’re snapping out of your daze in an instant, whipping your head up to look at him . “You good?” he asks, and while you can tell he’s being sincere, there’s an almost playful smirk gracing his lips.

“Huh…oh, yeah,” you murmur, bashful that he caught you lost in your own head, thinking about him. “Just zoned out for a second,” you explain with an awkward laugh, pulling your legs into your chest and resting your chin on your knees.

“I could tell,” Minghao replies, and you can’t help but gaze at how cool he is as he reaches toward the coffee table, cutting himself a piece of the brownie. You watch him carefully as he takes a bite—you’re honestly just admiring his face, but you think you can brush off your shameless ogling as looking to see if he likes the brownie. He catches you staring, and you’re unsure of what he thinks of it, opening his mouth to talk again once he’s swallowed it. “It’s good,” he tells you, and you smile.

“I’m glad…it would have been kind of embarrassing if it wasn’t.”

“Don’t worry—chocolate isn’t even really my thing but I like it,” Minghao compliments, and you can’t tell if he’s being genuine or faux out of sincerity. Your grin brightens nevertheless as you sink back into the front of the sofa behind you, averting your gaze to the screen once again.

You’re feeling a little shy, of course, and the silence that now sits between you and Minghao isn’t uncomfortable or awkward, rather it’s…heart-warming. Your smile doesn’t leave your face as the room is full of cries and laughter and taunts as the results of the first round are revealed.

You sit in an amused silence, watching them for around another twenty minutes and even getting to play once (albeit your minimal effort—Mario Kart always gives you a headache anyways), before quietly standing up as the boys are cheering over Wonwoo winning yet another match. Minghao looks at you as you raise yourself above him, and your stomach churns at the way he raised a brow.

“Leaving already?”

You shrug casually. “I think it’s about time I get to doing my own stuff,” you explain, throwing out a small smile before retreating to your room before Minghao—or anyone else—can notice or say anything. You’re grateful Minghao didn’t make a scene about you leaving—it’s not that you don’t like the boys (far from it), but you’ve been tired the whole day and were looking forward to a nice nap.

Settling into your bed after shutting your blinds, you pull the covers up to your chin shooting a quick text to Vernon to make sure he wakes you up for dinner if you didn’t wake yourself up in time. You shut your eyes tight, doing your best to ignore the tight feeling that settles at the bottom of your stomach.

The second you identify the feeling, you squeeze your eyes closed tighter. Stop it! Stop it! Stop it! Your words don’t aid you, of course, because all you’re thinking about his stupid fucking Minghao and his stupidly hot face and his stupidly cute smirk and the stupidly handsome way he looks at you and— oh my god you need to turn your brain off right now.

You settle on not breathing, trying to pretend you’re dead, in hopes it’ll lull you to sleep. Of course, the effect is the opposite of your intentions—the lack of oxygen only reminds you of the way Minghao took your breath away when you first noticed him.

You huff to yourself, rolling your body over so your face is pressed into the pillow as you quietly curse to yourself. “God, I’m so fucked,” you whine, childishly pounding your fists against the plush of your mattress.

You’re being immature, you know you are—like a child throwing a tantrum—but who can blame you? He’s just so pretty and that smile of his is so endearing and you can’t help but find yourself so falling for him.

It’s a miracle that you fall asleep at all, let alone so quickly. You figure the exhaustion from the past week has finally caught up to you, even with the onslaught of attraction that came your way after seeing Minghao.

When you wake up, it’s much darker. The sun hasn’t fully set yet, but the sky is painted a deep red which is bound to morph to purple within a few more moments before finally sinking into nighttime. You glance around and you realize that the only thing besides the outside light that’s illuminating your room is your bed lamp that you forgot to turn off.

You rub your eyes a few times, still in a bit of a groggy, drowsy daze, before remembering what woke you up in the first place—the knock on your door. “Hello?” you croak out, immediately slapping a hand over your mouth at the mangles sound that leaves your mouth. It’s quiet for a moment and you’re able to identify the faint voices in the rest of the apartment as Vernon’s friends.

Your mind is suddenly racing through the possibility of who could’ve knocked on your door and— oh my god! What if it’s Minghao?! What if he heard y—

You hear your name being called out softly and your speeding train of thought falters. It’s Vernon. Thank fucking god. “You up?” he says through the door and you pull the covers off of you to meet him at the door. Poking your head through the crack as you open it slightly, you squint immediately at the intrusion of light to your unadjusted eyes.

“Good morning,” you joke, stepping back to let him in. “Thanks for waking me up…jeez, I was knocked out,” you murmur to yourself, rubbing a hand over your face as you walk to your dresser to find yourself a comb. “What time is it?”

“It’s like six…the guys were worried that they were being too loud when I told them you were sleeping,” Vernon muses, pulling up his phone to scroll through something. “But I was like nah she sleeps through everything—and I was right,” he says with a laugh as you roll your eyes, trying to make yourself more presentable as you pull your hair back into a low do.

“Whatever…did you guys have fun? I’m assuming so since they’re still here…”

“Yeah, we’re ordering dinner right now. I told you they were gonna stay for a while. That’s why I woke you up too: I was gonna ask if there was anything specific you wanted—if you wanna eat with us of course,” he explains, holding up his phone to display the food delivery app he had opened earlier.

“Would that be okay? If I had dinner with you all?”

“Yeah of course, no one would mind,” Vernon assures you as you look at yourself in the mirror, fixing your hair, narrowing your eyes at your roommate.

“You sure?”

“Okay now you need to stop asking me if I’m sure,” Vernon huffs with a roll of his eyes followed by your laughter.

“Okay okay, fine,” you reply. “Give me like two minutes I’ll come out and we can decide something with everyone,” you say, ushering Vernon out. He puts his hands up in surrender, turning around to join his friends in the other room. After he leaves, you debate with yourself whether or not you should change or join the rest with your pajama pants and loose fit t-shirt.

Overcome with the still lingering drowsiness from your nap, you choose comfort, and decide to just throw on a loose cardigan over whatever you’re wearing now before stepping out of the room. A yawn escapes your lips as you enter the living room, catching sight of all the boys lounging around—some are seated on top of the kitchen island, legs hanging over the edge, while others are laying down on the couch with their feet kicked up, the rest with their legs folded on the ground.

You try not to stare at Minghao too much when he enters your line of vision, but the task is becoming impossibly harder the longer you look: he’s laid back on the couch, feet resting on a blonde boy—Jun, you think is his name’s—lap, and you don’t miss the way his arms are crossed behind the back of his head, shirt lifting up just enough to reveal a little bit of the skin that dons his torso.

You begrudgingly peel your eyes away from the marvelous sight when you hear someone call your name, heads turning to you once they realize you’ve finally joined them.

“About time,” the boy with sharp features from earlier—Jeonghan—says as a greeting, waving you over as he stands next to Vernon. “Come on, help us decide what to order.”

“D’you sleep well?” another asks, and you turn your head to see who’s speaking as you approach Jeonghan. You recognize the boy now as Seungkwan, and you smile while nodding. “I swear me and Chan thought you were dead!” he exclaims jokingly as you furrow your eyebrows.

The boy next to him shoots Seungkwan a death stare before speaking up, much to your amusement. “What Seungkwan means is,” Chan begins with a huff, “we were playing a game and Mingyu lost and he yelled and we were scared we woke you up but nothing happened!”

“I told you, she sleeps through everything,” you hear Vernon mumble from behind you, not missing the joking look that’s toying with his face. You roll your eyes and hit his shoulder, loud enough for everyone to hear and cause them to laugh, smiling internally at the reaction you were able to elicit.

“That’s not true!” you whine, looking over his shoulder to see what restaurants they were choosing from.

“Joking, joking,” Vernon mumbles, turning his phone so you could see better. “We’re choosing between Mexican and Thai. You can choose which, since we’re all pretty evenly split.”

You hum for a second, thinking about which you’re craving more, finally settling on, “Thai!”

There are some cheers that erupt behind you, and your face heats up right away when you turn around to see some of them (Minghao in particular) with cheerful smiles and fists of victory in the air. “Thai it is!” Vernon announces. “Tell me what you guys want,” he says before looking at you. “The usual?” you nod with a grin, backing away as he places the order while the others call out the array of dishes you want, making your way to the seating area to sit down by one of the sofas (totally not because that’s where Minghao was sitting).

As you settle down onto the ground, Minghao speaks up. “Do you want to sit here?” he asks, sitting up from his horizontal position, pulling his legs back to make space between him and Jun on the couch. Your eyes shoot up, darting between Minghao’s deep brown eyes and the space on the couch.

“Are you sure? You can lay down if you w—”

“Nonsense,” Jun says with a chuckle, and you can’t even comprehend what’s going on until you feel Minghao’s cool fingers wrap around your wrist, tugging you up slightly as a direct invitation to take up the spot next to him. God his skin is so soft and his touch is demanding yet so gentle and it’s just enough to get the butterflies that you thought died off to be resurrected once more. “Our way of thanks for choosing Thai,” Jun tells you.

“Yeah,” Minghao agrees, and you try your best to focus on what he’s saying even if it’s impossibly hard with the way his body is pressed up right against you. He leans back as if to stretch his body, arms reaching back behind the couch and settling in the space behind you,

God, you feel like you could die on the spot—it’s not like he’s got an arm wrapped around you or anything so why does this feel so intimate? You can only hope and pray that he doesn’t feel the immense heat radiating off of you as you adjust yourself to sit more comfortably on the couch. In hopes to diffuse the tension that you’re kind of sure you’re the only one feeling, you speak up. “Do you guys want to watch something? A show? A movie?” you suggest reaching forward to pick up the TV remote from the coffee table.

“I’m down,” Wonwoo says with a shrug.

“Oh yeah!” Seungcheol speaks up, “I’ve been wanting to rewatch Batman for a while!”

“Batman then?” you, looking around at everyone as you click the remote to pull it up after you see the nods of their heads. You put on the movie, sinking back into the couch as you do your best to focus on the screen in front of you, and not the faint touch of Minghao’s arm to the back of your neck.

You’re successful for a bit, thankfully, but your peace of mind hardly lasts when the food comes in and everyone settles on the ground to eat—your and Vernon’s rule that there’s no eating curry on the couch. You, Minghao, and Jun slip from your spots on the couch and sit on the ground where your feet lay just a few moments ago, and suddenly you’re hyper aware of the little space you three are squished up against.

It’s a miracle, you think, if Minghao doesn’t notice the way your skin burns against his as his thigh is pressing right up against yours. This touch is different from the one in the afternoon—that one was…light…innocent. This one…this one’s different—it has you burning and yet shivers run down your spine. If you were a little bit more in your senses, maybe—just maybe—you would notice the tight lipped smile that tugs at Minghao’s li ps as well.

Oh my! Now the crush begins.

II. COME TO ME

That night, after the movie, the food, and some beer, the twelve boys shuffle out of the house at around eleven, murmuring soft and tired “thank yous” and “goodbyes.” You can’t deny that you’ve been…a little stiff the entire evening. Sitting next to Minghao for a good 2 hours wore you out—it was a constant battle between your moral consciousness and your…budding feelings.

Stop looking at him! You’d say one moment, but then, god—oh my god his hands! No! Stop! He’s so close to me —stop acting like you’re in middle school! But his smile is just so pretty, god he lights up the room , but wait, stop being so cliche!

Naturally, you're convinced you’ve gone insane. Once the boys left, you and Vernon are left in the comfort of each other’s silence before beginning to make small conversation as you guys begin to clean up (the others honestly didn’t leave that much of a mess, you were just a bit of a clean freak).

“Your friends are fun,” you tell him quietly as you throw out the food containers that you finished earlier. Vernon looks up at you with a small smile, and you can tell that he’s been anxious about you not enjoying your time.

“That’s good, I’m glad.”

“Why haven’t you brought them over before?” you ask curiously, pondering about how there might have been a chance you could have laid your eyes on Minghao ages earlier. “Aren’t they like your best friends?”

Vernon shrugs. “Well yeah, they are, but there’s a lot of them, like you saw. I didn’t know if you’d be okay with that, today just happened to be a day where it was hard for me to say no to them.” You laugh heartily at that—the image of Vernon being persuaded by twelve guys looking at him with puppy eyes. “I really am glad you liked them though. If it’s okay I’d like to have them over more,” he puts out tentatively.

Of course, you perk up at that—maybe a little too noticeably. “I’d love that!” you say excitedly, before shrinking back down at how eager you sound. “I mean like, of course I won’t barge on your time with them but they’re really fun to be around and I’d like to see them more often,” you explain, placing your hands on the counter now that you’re done cleaning all the dishes. Vernon seems to catch onto something and you want to die from embarrassment with the way he’s raising a brow at you.

But if he does notice anything, he doesn’t say it, instead choosing to shrug again and trudge away from the kitchen. “That’s great. Can I have them over next Saturday?”

You blink once then blink twice. “Of course,” you reply without a second of hesitation.

Saturday can't come soon enough. With your own work to do, you find your mind drifting constantly to the face of a pretty man who you can't seem to stop thinking about. You need to scold yourself every single time you realize you're daydreaming—god no, more like fantasizing—about a man who you've not only seen only once, but is one of your roommate's best friends.

Daunting as it is, you're finding this whole situation quite...fun. You can't remember the last time you've felt something so pure and rejuvenating as this crush—gosh, you feel childish for calling it that but what else can it be? Your heart palpates when you think about him, your eyes ache to see his beautiful face again, and holy hell you don't even want to get started on the raw goosebumps you get when reimagining the moment where his skin brushed up against yours.

It's Friday night now, and your stomach swims with anticipation of what tomorrow will hold. You're sitting on the couch in your living room when Vernon comes home from the gym, dropping a bag of food on the kitchen counter. "Hey, I was at the gym with Mingyu and he got me some leftovers that his mom made," he tells you as you look up at him.

"Oh sweet," you say, relieved you won't have to go through the effort of figuring out what to make for dinner. "Your friends are coming over tomorrow, right?" you ask, feigning nonchalance—fucking acting like tomorrow hasn't been the only thing on your mind for the past one week.

"Yeah, they're gonna come up pretty early actually. I was gonna ask you actually, if you wanted to come with us since we're planning on going to the beach later. It's gonna be pretty hot and we haven't gone down in a while," he explains, beginning to open the bag of food as you get up and join him, trying to ignore the endless thoughts that run through your mind.

"The beach? Of course I'd want to come—wait, would that be okay with them? I wouldn't wanna intrude in on your day."

Vernon shakes his head with a chuckle. "Oh my god can you stop?" he says jokingly, "they were the one's who suggested, actually. Not that I don't want you to come either—I do—I just want you to know that they enjoyed you being there last week just as much as you did."

"Really? Who suggested it?" You hope you aren't coming off as too curious—Vernon is perceptive, and you'd be a fool to think he couldn't figure out exactly why you're so insistent on figuring out who asked for you to be there.

He seems preoccupied though, taking the food out of the containers, much to your relief. "Uhh, it was Minghao I think. But like everyone agreed after that, Jeonghan even said he'd pay for your ice cream if you came."

You're convinced the universe is bullshitting you right now. Minghao? Your Minghao? Asked if you could join them? At the beach?

You might just pass out.

Naturally, Vernon looks at you funny. "Are you good? You look like you've just seen a ghost."

You shake your head nervously with a smile, turning back to grab a piece of fried chicken he pulled out. "No no, I was just thinking about if I even have any swim suits—I think I threw them out last summer because of Jungho," you murmur, and while it's not the full truth about what you were just thinking about, it is something that's on your mind. Vernon looks at you with a frown.

"You threw them out because of Jungho?" he asks sadly. "Fucking hell, I forgot how crazy he was," he murmurs, looking down to take his own bite of the food. You shrug solemnly, finding yourself in a mood a bit more down than you'd like.

"Weird times," you reply simply. "Think I could just go to the beach in like some shorts and a shirt? It's just water after all."

"Yeah that should be fine. We'd be leaving before noon so I don't think you'd have the time to buy new ones anyways," Vernon agrees, pushing himself off the counter.

You nod with a smile, ignoring the small pang of sadness you felt just moments ago. "Sounds good."

You're a heavy sleeper—you always have been—and given that it's a Saturday, it's no question that you're bound to sleep until Vernon is banging your door to make sure you aren't dead. Seriously. Saturday morning, despite your excitement, kicks off with a groggy start. You're rolling around in bed, ming hazy as you aimlessly try and figure out what time it is and what exactly woke you up since you know you don't set alarms for weekends. It takes a few seconds for the knocking on your door to register in your brain.

You blink once and rub your eyes, squinting so that they can adjust to the light as you peer at the clock, realizing that—shit, oh shit, it's almost 11. Didn't Vernon say that his friends were going to be here in the morning?! And that they were gonna leave before noon?! Shit!

You're scrambling out of bed, digging through your drawer as you call out a meek, "I'n up!" to whoever's knocking on your door, throwing on the only swim suit that you—thankfully—found tucked away in your closet the night before, covering it up with some shorts and a loose top that you picked earlier as well. You're quickly faced with realization that you still look like you just rolled out of bed which, to be fair, you had. That doesn't stop you from frantically brushing through your hair, trying to put it into a simple braid before finally feeling ready to open the door.

You're expecting to see Vernon, in all honesty, since that's how it went the last time they were all over. The man standing in front of your door is, in fact, definitely not Vernon. No, the man in front of your door is Xu fucking Minghao, and you think you're absolutely fucked by the way your knees go week.

"Hi, sorry, I hope I didn't rush you," he greets politely, stepping back, allowing you to take a good look at him. He's wearing a white sleeveless shirt that hugs hugs his body tightly, followed by a blue hawaiian shirt that sits loosely on his upper half. His lower half is adorned by simple swim trunks, and you do your very, very best to not stare at his calf muscles.

"I, uh..." your voice trails off, in a haze from how attractive he is as well from your fading drowsiness. You rub your eyes once under your glasses before responding. "It's okay, I don't know why I didn't get up earlier," you huff to yourself, looking down, "I thought I would."

"Don't worry about it," Minghao murmurs, and he brings a hand up to your head on top of your hair to ruffle it a bit. You might just scream. "It's good that you slept," he continues, walking back to the living room as you follow him. "We thought you'd wake up from how loud we were," he says with a chuckle as you enter the room with everyone else in it as they turn to you.

"Yeah," Seokmin agrees through a mouth full of muffin, Joshua lightly hitting his shoulder and chiding him for talking with his mouth full.

"She's awake!" Jeonghan cheers playfully.

"i know Vernon said you'd sleep through anything," Chan begins to admit, "but literally do not understand how you didn't wake up until now. I swear, there was a moment where Soonyoung was just screaming at the top of his lungs and we were all wondering if that was gonna get you to come out but Vernon didn't even bother to check."

Your face burns at the comment, but there's a warm sort of feeling that bubbles up in you when they all laugh—it's not a mean laugh, no, it's friendly and it's kind, and it's making you feel welcome.

"You guys just don't listen to me," Vernon huffs, tossing you an orange from the kitchen. "We're going to head out in like five minutes," he tells you. "We need to figure out the car situation because I think Wont's car and Joshua's can only five each and mine can hold four."

The next few minutes are spent trying to figure out who's going to go in which car, everyone deciding that Seungcheol, Seokmin, Chan, and Jun would be going in Wonwoo's, Jeonghan, Jihoon, Soonyoung, and Minghao would be going in Joshua's, and Mingyu, Seungkwan, and you would be going in Vernon's. You won't and say that you aren't a teensy bit disappointed that you don't get to sit with Minghao, but the beach is only a twenty minute's drive away anyways, and you feel this is also a chance to get to know Vernon's other friends better too.

The car ride is fun, and you enjoy Seungkwan's cheeky remarks to everything, laughing along to pretty much everything he says, as well as Mingyu's oddly calm hyperness...? You aren't sure how to explain it but there's a constantly endearing and jumpy aura radiating from the tall boy, yet he seems quite tame for the most part. Nevertheless, you're entertained and excited to spend more time with them as Vernon parks the car on the beach, pulling out his phone so he can figure out where the other's are.

"Ah" you murmur, as the fourteen of you are grouped up finally, making your way into the hot sand and towards the water. "This is like the perfect weather for the beach," you say, wiggling out of your slippers so you can walk on the sand with your bare feet. Seungkwan is standing next to you as you both trail behind the rest of the crowd a little, the both of you immersed in the warm feeling of sand between your toes.

"I love the beach," he says, throwing his head back to look up at the bright side. "I'm from a beach town, so when I found out that the beach—and all my friends—were here, I just had to move here too, you know?"

"The beach is nice, but I won't lie, it always makes me so exhausted after I spend a day out here," you admit, dragging your feet across the sand, basking in the hot feeling it brings. "Who knows, I'll probably go home and sleep so hard tonight that even Vernon might think I'm dead," you joke, causing Seungkwan to chuckle.

You two continue to talk about the beach and Seungkwan's home town as your group nears the water, everyone beginning to set up their towels and the picnic blankets you bought. Everyone helps out, and before you know it, Mingyu, Jeonghan, Seungcheol, Seokmin, and Seungkwan are ripping off their shirts and running towards the water. You watch them with amusement, standing up to shimmy out of your shorts and shirt.

Vernon looks at you, speaking, "You were able to get a swim suit?" he asks, confused considering your conversation with him last night. You smile somewhat sadly, and Minghao, sitting next to Vernon, can't help but notice.

"Uh, not really," you mumble, looking down at your black bikini. "I think Jungho just never knew about this one so I didn't get rid of it, and it was just shoved in the back of my closet or something. Anyways, I'm burning and I really want to get into the water," you conclude, turning around without giving Vernon a chance to respond.

As you run off into the water, Minghao turns and looks at Vernon him. "Who's Jungho?" he asks, shameless about his curiosity.

Vernon frowns as soon as he hears the name, and Minghao wonders just what kind of person this Jungho guy might be. "Just some ex. A really shitty one," Vernon murmurs, looking out at the sun. Minghao feels something uneasy churn inside of him. He gives Vernon that look, which tells him he wants to know more. "Like he just sucked. Didn't treat her right and shit. I didn't like him at all. None of her friends did. He tried to get her to throw out all of her swim suits and stuff because he didn't trust her at the beach or some bullshit like that."

"Goddamn," Minghao hisses, leaning back on his hands as he watches you play in the water. You looked like you were having so much fun—you were so at ease. He wants to chide himself for looking at the way your skin glistens in the sun, your bikini hugging your body in all the right places and in all the right ways. He knows he shouldn't be thinking about you like this, especially when he's only just met you a week ago, but that isn't to say he hasn't missed your quick glances. The way your eyes dart towards him, his body, his eyes, his lips, and quickly jump away when you realize he's caught you.

You feel the same way, he's sure of it. Minghao knows you feel the same tingles, the same sparks, the same rush of pure happiness when you see each other.

His thoughts are interrupted by Joshua speaking. "He made her throw out her swim suits?" he exclaims incredulously. "Insecure much," he mutters under his breath, and Minghao laughs along with that. "Good thing he's just her ex now—that sounds horrendous."

"Agreed," Minghao replies while Vernon nods, standing up to pull off his hawaiian shirt and top. "I'm gonna go into the water," he tells the rest of his friends before jogging lightly, following in your faint footsteps.

You're feet hit the water, and you stop in your tracks as you take a few moments to get used to the temperature change. You're looking up to see Seungkwan and Jeonghan waving you over to around twenty feet further into the water, but you call out to them to tell them to wait a second as you just melt in the feeling of the water against your toes. You stand there for a few moments before you hear a familiar voice coming up from behind you.

Oh. My. God.

You don't even want to turn around because you're scared of your reaction to seeing him shirtless—god, you aren't even sure if you'll be able to contain yourself! You think if you pass out, you'll just have to blame it on the heat, but still, how are you going to be—

"Hey," Minghao says cooly, stepping next to you in the water and holy crap, he's toned and he's practically glowing in the sunlight, the shadows hugging every peak and curve of his chest, his arms, his hands, his collarbone, his v-line—oh my god you need to stop. Practically ripping your eyes away from the wondrous view that is Minghao's body, you're forcing yourself to look up at his eyes (not that it's any less of a view—his eyes sparkle just as much as he does).

"H-hi." Did you just stutter? No fucking way you just stuttered. You think you might have to drown yourself right now. "I thought you were going to stay around with the others a bit longer," you say sheepishly. Minghao smirks at you, and he thinks now is his chance to try and fluster you up a bit more.

"Well I can't just let a pretty girl go into the ocean by herself, now can I?" he replies smoothly, taking a few steps in front of and waving you to follow him, and you would only if you hadn't just stopped breathing. How could he say that so casually!? How could he—wait. Wait! He just called you a pretty girl. He thinks you're pretty. Xu fucking Minghao finds you pretty, and he's saying it to your fucking face. You actually might die right now.

You can't even formulate a response, just tearing your gaze away from him and smiling shamelessly at the ground as you follow behind him slowly. Mission accomplished, Minghao thinks to himself, and something inside of him goes batshit crazy by seeing you so smiley and undone.

"W-whatever," you finally say as the water near to your hips as you two start nearing the others guys who are currently splashing each other with water. Minghao watches them, and get an idea, playfully splashing some water your way. You jump back quickly, eyes widening before you gasp. "You did not!" You quickly splash water back, but Minghao seems to see it coming and he moves out of the way. "Get back here!" you yell, running after him as he nears Mingyu, hiding behind the larger boy. With your eyebrows, you pay no mind to this, continuing to splash water everywhere, hoping that at least some of it will get on Minghao.

Mingyu puts his hands up, eyes scrunched up as he tries to block the water that's inevitably going his way. "Hey! Hey! Hey! Not me! Not me!" he cries out as the others laigh.

"Get Minghao!" you call out to the other boys who catch on quickly, joining you on your rampage against Minghao. Eventually there's just so much water splashing everywhere that within minutes you're all spent, gasping for air as you all try to rub the water away from your eyes. Once your vision is no longer blurry, you blink hard a few last times before turning your vision towards Minghao again and holy hell, you didn't think he could look any hotter than he did sitting in the sun but wow. His hair is wet and hanging low on his forehead but it's so messy and so hot and all you can think about is running your fingers through those locks yourself and making a mess in your own little way and—okay stop, you can't be thinking about this, especially not in public.

It takes a moment for you to fully calm yourself down before you're laughing with the other guys as they start to play a new game. You try to ignore the butterflies you get whenever you near Minghao, but it's a painfully hard task. You grow to accept the feeling as the minutes go on, simply existing alongside the bubbly feeling instead of pushing it down.

The next hour is spent in and out of the water, everyone else eventually joining those of you in the water, and you find that time is passing faster than you can even think. Time with them is fun, it's carefree, it's liberating, it's refreshing. Once you're all too tired and too spent, you're trudging back to the little spot you all have set up as everyone begins to pull out the food they packed. As you snack on your lunch, the fourteen of you sit in a circle and talk about the plans for the rest of the day.

"Let's play beach volleyball," Wonwoo suggests after everyone's finished eating, and it's no doubt that everyone else pretty much agrees immediately.

"Yeah, I saw a court in that direction, and I'm sure we'd be able to find a ball," Jihoon adds on as everyone stands up.

"I think i'll stay behind," you tell them all, leaning back on your hand as you fan your face with the other. "I'm kind of tired and I think I just need to sit down for a bit," you explain.

"That's okay, but you sure you won't be lonely," Vernon clarifies as he stands up.

You shake your head, but right before you're going to respond, Minghao speaks up. "Don't worry about her, I'll stay behind too." God, someone save you—your poor heart can't take much more of this.

"Oh okay, great!" Joshua says happily, the others standing up as well to go follow Jihoon to the volleyball court. "Catch you later!" You and Minghao wave at the rest as the drift off into the distance before being left in the silence that sits between you.

Minghao speaks first. "It's nice that you came, it's refreshing to have someone new, especially if they're like you."

You raise a brow at him, turning your body so that you're completely facing him, legs crossed as you lean forward. "Like me? What does that mean?"

Minghao gives you a sly smile, like he was expecting this. "Fun. Easy-going." He pauses. "Pretty."

"Is this your way of flirting or do you just enjoy being very direct about what you're thinking."

He laughs at that, throwing his head back. "Nice one. Those two are actually the same thing for me, so take that as you see it," he says with a shrug. You're face is on fire, and you're sure he can tell by now. Minghao catches on and he leans forward. "Is it working?"

"Maybe it is," you murmur nonchalantly.

"I think it definitely is," he shoots back with yet another smirk. God, you can't do this anymore. He's just so close to you and you don't know if it's because it's hot or if you're flustered or whatever but you're burning and not thinking straight and before you know it you're leaning in so close that you can feel Minghao's soft breath on your lips, stopping right before you two can connect.

It's the silent words now: kiss me, kiss me Minghao, and you almost think that this is true love when he leans in immediately after, heeding your silent requests.

Minghao's lips are plump and soft and taste slightly salty from the remains of the ocean water, in contrast to the sweet way he's got one hand cupping your chin. His thumb strokes at your skin and the touch is so light that you think you might go insane, gripping onto one of his biceps as you try to ground yourself in reality—in this moment, that you're scared might almost just be a figment of your imagination.

News-flash, it's not. In fact, this moment is very much real, very much happening, and very much one of the closest things to heaven you've experienced.

When you pull away, his hand is still on your chin and yours still rests on his arm. "I won't lie," you whisper, "I've been thinking about doing that all week."

"Me too," Minghao admits almost immediately, the revelation sending both shock and relief coursing through your veins. You let go of his arm, finally, and he drops his hold too, but you scoot closer to him so you're not sitting side by side as you face the ocean. "We shouldn't do anything else right now," he says quietly, and you know he doesn't have to say to know what you're both thinking. "I don't think you'd want the others seeing anything."

"You're right," you say with a nod, but you still interlace his fingers that are next to you with yours on the ground. Minghao squeezes your fingers back slightly in confirmation that this is very much okay. "Do you want to get something to eat? I saw some people selling fruit on our walk through the sand," he suggests after a few moments. You nod along, shuffling through the pile of clothes that are everywhere so you can find your shorts—it's sp warm out right now that your skin and swim suit have already dried off.

While you're fishing out your shorts and slipping them on, Minghao finds his hawaiian t-shirt and slips it on, although his bare chest is still very much on display, despite your poor heart's cries for him to cover it up—no! Don't let anyone else see! You blush bashfully at your newfound jealousy of others seeing Minghao the same way you do, but those thoughts are soon pushed away as he reaches out a hand to you to help you stand up. You grab his hand with a smile, following after him as you both head toward the fruit stands at the front.

"What do you want to get?" he asks you when he sees you squinting to try and see what they're selling.

"Pineapple!" you cheer when you realize one of the stands has your favorite fruit, and Minghao can feel his heart swell at the sound. "Can we please get pineapple? It's my favorite fruit and it's the best for hot days."

Minghao smiles and nods, and your heart nearly pops out of your chest. "Pineapple and mango?" he suggests as you stand in front of one of the stalls, pulling out his wallet. You nod before thinking for a moment, pulling out your own wallet before he has a hand a hand on your waist, pushing it away. "I'm paying," and it's not a question when he says it. You slowly push your wallet back into your pocket, mind racing with the thoughts of how a man can be as perfect as Minghao.

"Okay well," you reply, pulling your wallet back out in defiance, "I want to buy some fruits for the others too," you explain. "And I don't think it's fair for you to pay for all of that."

Minghao huffs, letting go of your wrist before turning back to guy at the stall. You two end up splitting the cost of five cups of fruits before returning to the set up on the sand that you have with your arms much fuller than before. Back once you're both sitting, you chat about whatever and you definitely forget how to breathe the multiple times that Minghao picks up a toothpick and feeds you the fruits himself. There's something so domestic and so comforting about the way you both smoothly speak, move, flow—being with Minghao is languid and despite your racing heart at the thought of being with him, you feel...relaxed.

This feels right.

After around an half an hour of talking, you find yourself laying on your back as you have Vernon's hat on top of your head as you listen to the ocean. "Should we go to find them? They'll probably be hungry by now and beach volleyball is starting to sound fun," you say, sitting up and readjusting Vernon's cap on your head.

"Bored of me already?" Minghao teases, sitting up as well, readjusting his shirt.

You roll your eyes. "You know that isn't it. The fruit isn't gonna taste as good later, even if we keep it in the cooler. It tastes better fresh," you reason.

"Fine fine," he murmurs in defeat and you grin, getting up to pick up two of the cups of fruit while Minghao grabs the other two.

"You know where they went?" you ask him, looking to your left and right, trying to recall which direction the boys left in.

"This way I think," Minghao says, pointing to your left and you squint, nodding excitedly when you see some volleyball courts in the far distance.

"Wow, that's pretty far," you think out loud as you both start walking in that direction.

"Can't handle it?" he coos, looking down at you as he takes his effortlessly long strides.

You scoff, turning your head away as you feign nonchalance. "Whatever."

"I'm joking," Minghao says quickly, reaching one hand over to pick up the cups of fruit your holding so that he's holding all four now. You're about to protest but he simply turns his arms away from you so they're out of your reach.

"Thank you," you say sheepishly, holding your hands behind your back as you two begin to speed up your pace when you both realize that the fruit will grow warm soon. It takes around seven to eight minutes for you guys to reach the volleyball courts, calling out to Vernon when you reach hearing range. "We brought fruit!" you yell, pointing at the cups that Minghao graciously carried for you.

The boys run over, almost all of them in a panting, sweating mess.

"It's like you read our minds," Seungcheol tells you and Minghao, picking a strawberry and stuffing it into his mouth.

Seokmin nods along, picking up a piece of mango. "We were just talking about how we're already hungry again."

"Yeah," Chan agrees, "and I think Mingyu was gonna pass out in the next five minutes if you didn't bring him something to eat." You all look at Mingyu who's sitting across from you, legs out and upper body leaning on his arms behind him as his face is scrunched up—he nearly looks like he's dying.

"Fuck you all!" he groans, falling back onto the sand. "I swear, Jun and Cheol were targeting me! They kept hitting the ball in my direction!"

Jun laughs at that, throwing a hand up to Seungcheol for a high-five. "Damn, I didn't think you'd catch on."

"How could I not!?" Mingyu whines, sitting up again to pick up another fruit. "I was on the verge of the death because of you guys."

Jeonghan ticks his tongue as everyone laughs, "Ah, don't be so dramatic Gyu, we were just having fun. Plus, who doesn't want to win."

Mingyu grumbles as he kicks some sand Jeonghan's way as everyone retreats back into the normal conversation of the plans next. After a few moments of discussion, you all decide to go back to your set up and stay there until sunset before heading home.

Once you all make your way back, the hours are spent chatting, building a moat (Mingyu and Chan seemed especially interested in this for some reason), and playing in and out of the water. As the sky begins to merge from blue to yellow to a deep orange, you begin cleaning up. At the moment, you aren't sure who brings it up, but the word "sleepover" gets thrown around and everyone is practically on their knees, asking to sleep over at Vernon and your place.

"Why our place?" Vernon complains. "Why not Minghao and Jun's? Or Joshua and Jeonghan's?" he begins throwing out the other's names.

"Because we like yours the most," Joshua says simply, everyone nodding their heads vigorously in agreement. Vernon huffs and looks at you for help, but you only shrug—you aren't sure how to respond to this and you aren't going to pretend like you aren't a teensy bit excited about the chance of Minghao spending the night (even though there'll be 12 other guys in your home).

"You guys owe us," Vernon finally says with a deep sigh, "big time."

The car ride back begins by Vernon, Joshua, and Wonwoo yelling at all of the passengers to not get sand into the car, and while you all desperately try to heed by their wishes, it's nearly impossible. You should've expected that nothing with this group is ever especially peaceful, but you're pleasantly surprised by how every event with them somehow has you bursting into laughter until your stomach hurts.

When you all return to your apartment, it takes a messy, chaotic hour or two for everyone to sort out when they would be taking showers, realizing that you should have planned this better once you knew that fourteen people would be scrambling to try and use your and Vernon's single shower. Once you're all washed up, you're left sitting in the living room, trying to figure out how you're going to pass the next few hours. Of course, one brings up Mario Kart, and suddenly they all perch against the couch trying to see who can beat Wonwoo.

It's now when you start to feel the exhaustion of the day catch up to you, recalling how you told Seungkwan that beach days make you tired. You excuse yourself to your room, locking the door behind you before slipping under the covers and nuzzling against the pillow.

In the silence—well not really silence, since apartment walls are thin and boys are loud, but still—of your own room, you find yourself catching a moment for you to properly think. And then it all comes crashing onto you.

Minghao. His lips, his eyes, his arms, his hands, his fingers, his lips (yes, his lips again), his touch, his gaze—and holy hell do you need more. You almost whine out loud into the sheets at the thought of having to wait for him any longer, your brain fuzzy from both your exhaustion and the tingling feeling that courses through your nerves.

Your mind races through the endless possibilities of what has happened and what can happen and before you know it you're falling asleep.

It's two hours later at around 8pm when you hear your phone buzzing by your chest, hardly lifting your head to see who it is. When you recognize the caller as Vernon, you hit the answer button, putting minimal effort into lifting the phone up to your ear as you grumble.

"God, do you ever stop sleeping?" he huffs on the other end, and you can faintly hear someone in the background laugh. You rub your eyes as you push yourself out of bed, rummaging through your drawer to pick out a cardigan to throw on.

"Sorry," you grumble with a yawn. "Beach days make me tired."

"I can see that. Anyways, we're in the living room ordering takeout, so hurry up if you want to have your choice," he threatens playfully.

"Alright alright," you mumble, trying to make your bed a little neater before leaving your room and heading towards the living room. They're all there, as expected, some movie playing on the TV as Jihoon is playing something on the guitar (where the hell did he get a guitar from?!) and Wonwoo and Mingyu are playing yet another game of Mario Kart on the Switch tablet.

"And she's here!" Chan exclaims, causing some eyes to turn to you. Minghao, sitting on one of the chairs at the kitchen island turns to you quickly, and the eye contact has you turning into mush immediately.

"When you went to your room," Vernon begins to say, distracting you from your thoughts and placing a hand on your shoulder, "I thought you were just going to chill for a bit. I didn't expect you to be napping."

Seungkwan comes in and swats Vernon's hand away from you. "You're so judgemental Sollie! Let her be!"

"Thank you Seungkwan!" you agree immediately, turning to raise an accusing eyebrow at Vernon. He rolls his eyes and steps away, holding up his phone which has the food order on the front screen.

"Hey, I'm ordering your food!"

You step back, putting your hand sup in surrender. "Okay fine! Fine! What are we getting tonight?"

"Mexican!" Jeonghan calls out. "It's my treat!" Everyone cheers as you tell Vernon your order, sitting down on the ground in the living room as everyone bunches up in the middle to begin discussing the next big problem you all have—sleeping.

It seems like no one quite thought this out earlier but your apartment is small and fitting fourteen people into this space seems near impossible, especially when you know that they'll all insist on you sleeping alone in your own room. It's a hassle to pull out all the extra pillows and bed sheets that you have, everyone trying to clear space to make as many makeshift beds on the ground as they can.

Somehow, you're all able to fit eight "beds" in the living room, Chan and Seungkwan being the lucky ones to squeeze into the extra space that Vernon has left on his bed and Jun and Jihoon calling the spots on the sofa and arm chair. From there on out, time seems to pass easily with the thirteen of them, and you're starting to understand how Vernon's been able to be their friend for so long. The hours pass quickly and by ten p.m., you're spent and tired from the day—too tired to go on.

Before you know it, you're helping them all make the final touches to the makeshift beds, bringing out as many extra comforters as you can in hopes to make sleeping on the ground a bit more comfortable. Bidding goodnight, you wave to them all and retreat to your room, but not before staring at Minghao for maybe a little too long. He stares back, of course, and anyone else would miss it, but you don't—the way he nods slightly, before turning away to say something to Jun.

III. OUR DAWN IS HOTTER THAN DAY

It's eleven when you hear the knock on your door, and it's embarrassing how quickly you scramble out of bed to open it. On the other side, as expected, is Minghao. You're pulling him in without a second of hesitation, grabbing his neck and slamming his lips onto yours hard. His hands are making their way onto his hips immediately, moving up and down along your waist and torso to feel every inch of you that he can. You've both been waiting for this for ages, and it's about time you lose control.

"Hao," you whine softly as he presses you into your wall, his tongue running against the corner of your mouth. His only response is kissing you deeper, teeth clashing as you seek to explore every last bit of each other. Minghao swears he feels his dick twitch at the way you call him by his nickname, his fingers tightening their hold on you.

"You'll drive me crazy," he murmurs, kissing down your neck as you run your hands up and down his arms to feel the curve of his arms.

"That's the—ah—plan," you grunt as you sucks at one spot on your skin. Minghao continues peppering your skin with kisses before you feel like enough his enough, intertwining your fingers in his hair and pulling his head up so he can look at you. "Can I suck you off?"

Minghao is, undeniably, taken aback by your forwardness, and while his head his telling him to take his time with you right now, his other head is telling him to give in. In any other situation with any other girl, he would be denying you, taking his time to at least finger you first but he's been too pent up and too horny since the first time you kissed him to say no.

You're surprised when he quickly nods—you aren't the type to dive right into this kind of stuff but Minghao has been doing something that's reconnecting the wires in your brain, causing the overwhelming urge to sink to your knees for Minghao to crash into you.

The second you're on your knees, you have your hands on the waistband of his shorts, pulling them down at once with his boxers to reveal his length, long and pretty and hard with a bead of pre-cum dribbling off the end. You reach up, holding the base with a hand as you look up at Minghao to meet his eyes.

"Fucking hell," he groans, throwing his head back before you reply with a hiss.

"Quiet! They can't hear," you remind him, before adjusting yourself on your knees so you're in a better position to prod his tip at the front of your mouth. You drink in the way Minghao's breath hitches as your lips wrap around him, tongue swiping at the tip softly before pulling back.

"Don't—" he takes a deep breath, "don't be a fucking tease."

"'m sorry," you mumble, pulling your head back. "Can't help it." You kind of mean it and you kind of don't. Honestly, you aren't sure what to think—all you want to do is make Minghao feel good and do it now. Minghao notices the desperate glint in your eyes, and he takes this chance to wind his fingers into your hair, pulling it back into a makeshift pony tail so he can move your face in the face that he wants. The thought has you both going down into a spiral.

Minghao looks down at you so intensely that you think you just might cum from the look alone, but then he's speaking. "You okay with this?" he asks quietly, running a thumb along your lower lip with the hand that's not holding your hair back.

"Yes," you reply almost instantly, and your eagerness has his eyes darkening—you can see it.

"Fuck," he groans, leaning back again while he takes your hand that isn't wrapped around his length up to his thigh. "Tap twice if you want me to stop, 'kay?" You nod quickly, hoping Minghao will get the idea that you're beginning to grow impatient.

Message received, it seems because before you know it, Minghao is guiding your mouth back to the tip of his length, so you can take him in. Once you have your lips wrapped around him, he pushes you forward more, causing your eyes to widen as you realize he's nearly hitting the back of your throat. You take this as your chance to do exactly what you've been aching for, and you begin to bob your head back and forth.

The moan Minghao lets out is near perfection, and you're immediately encouraged to push more, to push deeper, to do whatever it takes to make him make that sound again. You're about to do it again before you feel your hair being tugged so that you're fully pulled off his cock. "Fuck," he chokes out, looking down at the sight of you with red, puffy lips and blown-out eyes. "Do that again," he demands, and you don't waste a second before you wrap your mouth around him and push down as far as you can. His hand is pushing at the back of your head, his soft words from above encouraging you to go harder to go deeper because you're his angel and he knows you can do it.

God, the words that are spilling out of his mouth are downright filthy but they're messing with your head and before you know it your moving your head back and forth in sync with Minghao's hips that are snapping forward slightly, causing him to batter the back of your throat. It's not the most comfortable feeling but the discomfort definitely not what you're thinking about when you hear Minghao's pants—his soft groans that escape his lips now that you've got him so desperate.

There's drool running down your chin and it's so messy but it's so hot and it has your pussy aching but you can't even think of relieving yourself—not when you can feel the vein on the understand of his dick against your tongue, not when his hand is laced in your hair with such a tight hold you think you might just pass out, not when you know he's so close to his release within minutes all because of you. "Fuck," he grunts again, snapping his hips once more, particularly harder and sloppier this time. "I'm gonna—fuck, I'll come soon."

Your jaw is aching by now but it doesn't compare to the throbbing you feel in your panties—god, you're going to go crazy. You use your hand to rub whatever of his length you can't fit in your mouth, using these last few moments to let Minghao jut his hip and shove your mouth further onto him and holy hell do you love it. You can feel it coming with the way he twitches inside your mouth and you can tell he's about to come when he pulls you off of him, before you're opening your mouth wide again, eyes silently begging him: inside my mouth.

It's like earliedirtr, when you kissed, except now it's so much more frantic, so much more ecstatic—Minghao hears your silent requests and only takes a second to push himself back into your mouth. You only need to suck once or twice before you feel it in your mouth—his cum, hot and shooting down your throat. He pulls out after that, you taking a second to swallow and then lick the glossy tip, your body filling with pride at the way you see his leg twitch.

"God—fuck," Minghao finally manages to say between sputtered breaths, "You're so hot." He pulls you up by the arm as he slips his boxers and shorts back on, placing a hand on your hip as he brings you up for a fierce kiss. Your lips are all swollen and Minghao is extra gentle with the way he runs his tongue along them, kissing you so softly you almost forget that he just face-fucked you less than a minute ago. He's pressed up against the wall right now, but takes this moment to flip you both so it's you who's leaning back.

Minghao pulls away from your lips, chuckling at the way yours chases his in the few seconds after, before connecting his lips to your neck like earlier. "Let me give you something in return, yeah?"

"Yeah," you agree, nodding dumbly the second you feel his hand slip down your shorts, ghosting over your panties.

"Fuck, you're so wet," he groans as he pressed down through your panties.

"Hao," you moan, as he rubs little circles on your clit over the fabric, "please, please, hurry." Minghao chuckles and usually you'd be embarrassed but then again, there's nothing usual about getting fingered by your roommates best friend while all of his friends are asleep in the next room over. Minghao still is going slow with you, taking an extra moment to slowly push your panties aside. You're growing so impatient, the throbbing between your legs getting so impatient, that you think you might start sobbing. "I've been so good, Hao, please? I wanna cum," you beg, meeting Minghao's eyes as you look up at him.

God, you're doing something to him, he thinks—you might just be the death of him. You just look so cute and so desperate and the way your eyes are already glossy has his dick hard again. The fact that he didn't even have to ask you to beg for him is more than enough for a million thoughts to be racing through his mind, but in all honesty, the only thing he wants to focus on right now is making you come.

"Angel, fuck," he murmurs, into your skin, placing a kiss on your collarbone as he uses one hand to lift your shirt up to your neck so he can hold one of your tits, the other hand running through your folds so he can coat his fingers in your slit. "You wanna come?" he coos, prodding one finger at your entrance, and he thinks he might tease you a little longer but then he sees how quickly you respond and it has his resolve crumbling. He sinks is finger in and it's so long and so thick and reaches places in one go that you can't even even imagine of reaching with your own fingers.

You let out a deep sigh, instinctively grinding down on his hand so that your clit is also brushing against his palm adding to the stimulation. Minghao is gentle in the first few moments, moving his finger in and out at a steady pace before you murmur his name once more, causing him to push a second finger inside. "Oh my god, Minghao," you moan, and his eyes shoot up at yours, using the hand that was at your tits to cover your mouth.

"Quiet," he demands, as he continues to fuck you with your fingers. The sound of your wetness and his fingers against your gummy walls is echoing though the room and all you can think about is how dirty and how erotic this feels, and you moan again quietly again at the thought. Minghao's fingers still inside of you at the sound, and you feel your eyes widen and tear up once more. "Be quiet, or I'll stop," he murmurs, resuming his ministrations once he sees you nod.

"Minghao," you say quietly, throwing your head back when you feel him start to play with one of your nipples. "Feels so—so good," you hiccup, doing your best to keep quiet. He's fucking into you ruthlessly now, the pads of his fingers hitting spots you didn't even know existed, and you know your end is close by the way your vision nearly goes white. You grind against his hand harder, and Minghao picks up on the subtle movement.

"Gonna cum?" he breaths out and you don't even have it in you to say anything, your only response being your quickened movements. "C'mon angel, cum for me," he whispers into your ear and maybe it's his voice or maybe it's the way his fingers have you seeing stars or maybe it's the stimulation of your clit against his palm or maybe it's everything combined but you're cumming hard and fast within seconds around his fingers, and holy shit you think that might just be the best orgasm of your life.

You're left panting as Minghao's fingers slow down inside of you, twitching every few seconds from the overstimulation, before he's pulling them out of you and your panties completely. You want to hide your face, looking away when you realize how wet they are. "Why're you looking away?" Minghao asks, grabbing your chin so you can look at him. "It's hot," he tells you with a shrug, bringing his fingers up to your mouth, raising a brow. You're slightly embarrassed, yes, but you'd be a fool to try and deny him, opening up your mouth and suck your own wetness off him when he presses his fingers into your mouth.

After you swirl your tongue around him a few times, he pulls his hands back, replacing his fingers on your mouth with his lips, kissing you sweetly. You bring your hands up to his hair, moving your lips in unison as he places one hand on your waist, pulling your shirt back down to cover you.

"That was fun," you finally say when you're both pulling away.

"You're gonna drive me up a wall," Minghao mutters under his breath, taking a small step back. "But it was." He's silent for a moment before speaking again. "I'm gonna head back—wouldn't want anyone to wake up and find out I'm not where I supposed to be."

"You think someone would wake up?"

Minghao chuckles, and you feel those butterflies again. "You were pretty loud," he says, bringing a hand up to scratch the back of your neck.

"Whose fault is that again?" you ask.

"Dunno," Minghao says casually. "He must be super hot though."

You click your tongue as Minghao walks backward toward your door. "Hmm, I'll have to agree with that."

He smiles and kisses you hard one last time before ruffling your hair. "Sleep well angel."

a/n. not even going to bother reading this through because i'll get embarrassed. dw guys i'm working on a better hao fic soon >_<

#xu minghao #xu minghao smut #xu minghao x reader #minghao x reader #minghao drabbles #minghao imagines #minghao smut #minghao fanfic #minghao #seventeen imagines #svt smut #seventeen smut #svt scenarios #seventeen x reader #seventeen scenarios #svt fanfic #📝 writing

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outsideratheart · 1 year ago

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Happiness (Alexia Putellas x reader)

A/N: This is the third and final part of History and Hope. I hope you enjoy!

It was hard being friends with Alexia but that is the situation you found yourself in. After her injury you forget all about the past because what she was going through was much more important. It resulted in multiple trains to Spain and in the end you were able to mend your friendship.

But here’s the thing: could two people who once cared about each other unconditionally ever be just friends?

You were beginning to find out the answer to that the hard way. You loved Caroline and deep down you knew you loved alexia, it was a feeling that would never change. The question was which one were you in love with.

The public hadn’t seen you and Alexia together since before her injury so when the footage of you two arriving together at camp was posted the entire Sefutbol fanbase lost their minds. It didn’t help that every comment was about how it reminded them of the past and how they suspected something was going on between the two of you even though you were still with Caroline.

Caroline trusted you and she told you this but whenever you called her during camp she questioned the how deep your relationship with Alexia went. She knew of your past and you were honest with her when you spoke of the love you had for your former best friend and co captain.

You reassured her that you and Alexia were friends and nothing more but you could tell that she didn’t believe you. For the past few of months you could use the fact Alexia had a girlfriend to back up your statement but now they had broken up. You were the person Alexia came to when it happened and Caroline hated that your bond had returned to its unbreakable state.

You and Alexia were told you’d be roommates for the pre World Cup camp and for the tournament. It was something the two of you were both happy about because you knew the pressure you would be facing in the upcoming weeks and it would be each other that would keep you sane.

After a tense phone with Caroline you didn’t know how to feel. Photos had been released from training of you and Alexia and to the rest of the world the two of you looked very close but it was simply the way Spaniards acted around each other.

“Is everything ok?” Alexia asked as she exited bathroom pretending to not have heard every word you said.

“I think so” truth is you didn’t know “it’s hard trying to explain, well us”

“It is. That’s why my relationship ended” Alexia knew your struggles well.

This isn’t something you knew. You wasn’t sure why they broke up, you never asked, but you didn’t for a second think it had something to do with you.

“I’m sorry”

“It wasn’t your fault. She knew that I still loved you”

“Alexia”

“I know you’re with Caroline and I don’t want to jeopardise that but it is true. I do love you, part of me always will and she couldn’t understand that”

This is why it was hard. Friends don’t say stuff like that to other friends.

“I’m with Caroline, Alexia. We can’t have this conversation”

“But you admit there is something here, something that we can talk about”

“There’s nothing to talk about. We are in a good place and we need to keep it that way. There’s too much at stake”

The pressure on the two of you was enormous. The entire world was watching and waiting in anticipation and you weren’t go to let your relationship current or what could have been ruin that.

“I understand”

And that was true. Alexia did understand because before you fell in love with each other, you fell in love with football and winning the World Cup was something you dreamed of doing when you made your debuts together.

The team had a couple of days off between camp and travelling to New Zealand. You took the opportunity to go away with Caroline and it was just what the two of you needed. You could back up your words of reassurance with actions. By the time you boarded the plane to go to World Cup things couldn’t have been in a better place.

Throughout the group stages you played some of the best football you had in a long while. Every one of your team mates said it was because you and Alexia were in the best place you had been in years. This was true and you knew it was a huge reason why the two of you had been performing like you had.

Up until now you never had a thought of straying from your relationship or thinking about being with anyone but Caroline. This all changed after the quarter finals. You had scored the second goal and the only person you wanted to celebrate with was Alexia.

“What just happened!” you shouted as you jumped into her arms. Alexia truly did plan on wrapping her arms around your back but the speed in which you jumped almost caused you to fall if not for Alexia’s hands on the bottom of your thighs.

“You’ve just sent us to semi final” Alexia kisses your neck.

The feeling of her lips against your bare skin had the power the teleport you to the night you shared your first kiss in Paris. Your surroundings became blurred for matter of seconds but that is enough to let your mind stray. In that moment you wanted to kiss Alexia, you wanted to cheat on your girlfriend. You hated yourself for it but it was feeling you could no longer deny.

A similar thing happens in the semi final only Alexia isn’t on the pitch for your game winning goal. This doesn’t stop you from celebrating though as you ignore all of you screaming team mates and run straight to where she is cheering on the bench.

“That one was for you Ale” the nickname made a return, you didn’t dislike it and it wasn’t an accident.

Once again you are in her arms and you can feel her firm grasp on your waist.

“Mi estrella”

This time you kiss her cheek even though you know it’s wrong. You tell yourself it is innocent as it isn’t on the lips.

The final whistle blows and you fall to your knees. You were in shock knowing that Spain were through to the World Cup final. The whole team celebrates the achievement and as the team gathers in a circle you spot Alexia opposite you. This is what you have been working towards for years and now you only have one game left to play and one team left to beat.

Just as you were about to go to Alexia you get pulled away by Olga and Athenea.

“Come with us MVP. We have a surprise for you” your Real Madrid team mates pull you through the tunnel.

With these two anything was possible so you keep an open mind. As you reach the end of the corridor you see the surprise they were referring to and she did not look happy although to anyone else her smile was believable.

“Caroline” you truly are happy to see your girlfriend and having her in front of you makes you forget all about Alexia.

“Congratulations Y/N” she pulls you in her arms but her hold isn’t as strong as it normally is and you know that something is wrong.

“Thank you Carino” you lean forward to kiss her and are met with a battle for dominance, something with doesn’t normally happen.

“My girlfriend is through to the final” you are too focused on the kiss that just happened that you don’t pick up on the possessive tone that Caroline uses when she says the word mine.

“Let’s get out of here” you are still dressed in your kit although you had swapped shirts with Asllani.

“What about your team mates?” Caroline asks even though she wants nothing more than to have you to herself.

“I can celebrate with them later. I have missed you”

“Looks like it” She whispers under her breath but it is loud enough that you hear it.

Once in the locker room Alexia’s eyes search for you and she even goes back out to the pitch to see if you had stayed out there knowing that this is something you do. Even as she returns to the rowdy Spanish locker rooms she is almost certain that you would be in there by now, only you’re not.

Jenni asks her what’s wrong but she shakes it off.

“I was looking for Y/N but she must be doing media” Alexia says as it is the only explanation she can come up with.

“Y/N wasn’t needed for media. Salma did it instead” their media manager confirms.

Alexia was beginning to worry as to your whereabouts but Olga is quick to put her out of her misery even though what she says makes Alexia a lot more than miserable.

“Caroline came to surprise her“ Olga says.

“And we saw them leaving the stadium just as we came back here” Athenea adds.

The Catalonian was at a loss for words. Had she been reading the signals wrong?

“She did?” Esthers says excitedly “That’s nice. They really are inseparable in Madrid and I think I speak for everyone when I say we can tell Y/N has been missing Caroline”

The players that were listening to the conversation agree with the forward and every agreement made Alexia’s blood boil. It was enough to stop celebrating and leave the room in search of some alone time.

The pitch was the place Alexia thought would be the quietest and she was right. It’s funny how much bigger it felt when it was empty and silent. She took the time to go over the past couple of days and it made her come to the conclusion that she didn’t just love you, she was in love with you. So much that it scared her because you had the power to hurt her although part of her believed she deserved it.

“Here”

The voice makes Alexia jump. She turns and finds Misa standing next to her with a beer in her hand.

“I don’t drink during tournaments, you know this”

“You’re going to need it for the conversation we are about to have and before you say you don’t want to talk about it you should know that you need to talk about it Alexia”

Whatever was going on between you and Alexia was enough to gain the attention of the goalkeeper. This alone filled Alexia with a little bit of hope.

“I’m in love with her Misa and I don’t know what to do. We have these moments and it gives me a sense of deja vu. I am transported back to 2019 where I wanted nothing more than to kiss her and ask to be mine. I want that, I want her”

Misa isn’t the person Alexia thought she would be having this conversation with but the two of them had grew close over the past couple of weeks and it helped that she knew you very well. She would be able to give an insight as to how you may be feeling.

“That isn’t going to happen” Misa says before taking a huge mouthful of the ice cold beer in her hands.

“I know but I can’t lose hope. Without hope I have nothing. I won’t have her and I won’t be able to have the thought of us been together”

“I wasn’t finished. It isn’t go to happen right now. She is in a committed relationship and no way will she do to Caroline what you did to her. Her heart is too pure”

Deep down Alexia knew Misa was right. You never wanted to cause pain for anyone and you definitely wouldn’t do it to the woman you love.

“I know. I don’t know what to do” Alexia hangs her head in defeat but not before taking a sip of the drink she swore not to only minutes ago.

“Do you want my opinion?” Misa asks and Alexia nods but doesn’t make eye contact “I think you need to tell her how you feel and don’t hold back”

Alexia wasn’t sure if that is something she is capable off. If she tells you then she risks losing you all together and she couldn’t have that happen. The two of you were in a good place and she’ll be damned if she is the cause for that to change. She needed to the think or more appropriately not think and her team mates that were none the wiser to her feelings would be the perfect distraction or at least that is what she is hoping.

“Alexia” Misa shouts causing the midfielder to look back at her “For what it’s worth I think part of her feels the same way. Ever since arriving in New Zealand I have seen a side of Y/N that I haven’t seen before and I think you’re the reason for that”

When the team arrive back at the hotel they do so just in time to see Caroline leaving. Given the amount of Real Madrid players on the team, most of them stop to say hi but Alexia notices that you are nowhere in sight. Now is her chance.

She gives up on waiting at the elevator and runs up the stairs two at a time. She is breathless when knocking on your door at a rapid pace. After thirty seconds she takes a short break before trying again. This morning she didn’t plan on having this conversation with you but now she wanted nothing more. She is determined not to admit defeat but her red knuckles beg her to do just that. Maybe you weren’t in the room.

The team is gathered in the common room when Alexia enters but still you are not there. Her gut was telling her something was wrong and she never ignored her gut.

“Have any of you seen Y/N?” She asks the entire room hoping at least one person would know where you were.

“She is in her room” Jorge states and it makes Alexia take a step back in disbelief because it means you were ignoring her reluctant knocking “She told me that she isn’t feeling well so she won’t be down for team meal tonight”

“Ok, I will take a plate up to her if I can get a key” Alexia knew that if anyone had the power to get a key for your room it would be the coach.

“No Alexia. Y/N asked me to be left alone tonight and given that she has been our saving grace the past couple of games I am going to do as she asked and I’m going to make sure everyone else does too”

Alexia was confused. You were fine an our ago, what could have changed in such a small amount of time and why where you hell bent on being left alone. Being respectful to your wishes Alexia left you alone that night and instead would talk to you in the morning only she doesn’t get the chance because the next day you avoid her at all costs.

You didn’t intend on hurting Alexia with your behaviour but it is what you needed to do to get through the next couple of days. There was a World Cup final to prepare for and you needed to have a clear head if you had any chance of winning.

By the time the 20th August comes around you can count on one hand the amount of times you have spoken to Alexia and you would have fingers spare. You heart was all over the place but head was locked in on the task at hand and that is all that mattered or at least it was for the next 90 minutes which would then turn into 120 minutes because the score remained 0-0 after extra time. Like many other games, this one would be decided with penalties.

“Y/N” Alexia grabbed your hand before the team walked to the half way line.

“Not now Alexia. I need to focus” you pull out of her grasp.

It all came down the 5th penalty. Both team have scored all penalties so far and given that Spain went second the pressure was fully on your shoulders as you were the fifth penalty taker. Misa hands you the ball but doesn’t say a word. Besides she knew that you wouldn’t hear a word she said anyways.

When you hit the ball you know you didn’t get it quite right. You always went for the side netting and you had a 100% success rate. You did until this moment because instead of hitting the netting the ball hits the post and rolls away form the goal. You had just missed and cost your team and country the title of World Cup champions.

You didn’t fall to the floor, nor did you walk back to your team mates. You stood in the same spot as if rooted to the ground. If you had to describe the way you were feeling you would use the word shock. How could you miss, this one out of them all.

Misa the first person to enter you line of vision as she crouches down to reassure you that it was ok and that it wasn’t your fault but it was. You knew it and the rest of the world did too. The next thing you do it turn your emotions off, knowing that it was better to feel nothing at all. This did mean that you shut off the world around you. The sounds in the stadium became muffled as if you were under water and the presence of your team mates didn’t register.

“We are a team. Win or lose, we do so together” Alexia wraps her arms around your shoulder and tries to pull you close to her but it’s as if the contact burns and you recoil from her touch.

“I am the captain today, not you. I missed the penalty, not you. This is on me Alexia so don’t try and make this about you”

“Y/N, that’s not what I’m doing” Alexia tries to reach out for you. She knows once you give up the urge to fight that you will need comfort.

“Why don’t you go to Jenni! It’s what you did after the last World Cup” your words were like venom and you spat them straight at her.

Alexia remained in her place even when watching you walk away, seeking comfort in your co captain at Real Madrid Ivana Andres. It was her side that you stood as you watched the other team lift the trophy. As soon as you were allowed to and when it respectful enough to do so, you left not only the pitch but the stadium.

The energy is the locker room was awful, it was as if somebody had died. To the outside world that might seem dramatic but losing a final had an effect that was hard to explain to those who had never experienced it. Some players were still crying, some had cried all the tears they had and others sat in silence still processing what just happened.

Ivana picked up on Alexia’s wandering eyes and it didn’t take a genius to realise what or who she was looking for.

“She’s left Alexia” This not only caught the attention of Alexia but the entire locker room “She said she needed to be alone and I couldn’t argue with her. The pressure she faced during this tournament is enough to crush some people and it seemed Caroline breaking up with her was the last straw”

“What did you just say?” Alexia wasn’t sure if she heard the defender correctly.

“The pressure was too much”

“No about Caroline”

“She broke up with Y/N. She didn’t tell me but I think it was the night of the semi final”

Selfishly Alexia wasn’t focused on the fact that you had been dumped. You were now single and now was the time for her to tell you how she really feels. Still, she is torn on what to do. She is a captain of this team and with you gone they need their other captain.

“Go” Misa tells her.

Alexia waits for someone, anyone, to disagree with the goalkeeper but nobody does and that’s enough for Alexia. She thinks fast. You wouldn’t go back to the hotel because that’s where the rest of the team will be very shortly. Australia isn’t a country you knew well so it did narrow it down a little bit. Alexia’s mind is blank until she remembers you posting almost identical photos to your instagram stories of a beach. You always loved the beach so it made sense that is where you would go.

She was right. As Alexia walks down the small hill that leads to the ocean she sees you sitting close to water with your knees pulled up to your chest. Even from a distance she can tell your crying by the way you body is moving.

“It’s all my fault Alexia” you don’t need to face the figure next to you to know who it is. She is the only one that would go against your wishes and truth is you had been hoping she would because in this moment she is the only person you want to see.

“No it’s—“ Alexia wanted to reassure you but the look she received from you told her that it was best not to finish that sentence.

“It’s not only your fault” she corrects herself but didn’t quite have the affect she desired.

“Alexia!”

You fall back onto the sand and turn your focus onto the stars above you. With the ocean at your feet and the universe above you, you couldn’t help but feel small.

“Spain is going to hate, the team will hate me and you will hate me. Please don’t hate me Alexia, anybody but you” it’s almost a plea.

“Y/N I could never hate you. I love you”

This confession had you sitting up right in a matter of seconds.

“Alexia in a different life maybe we could be happy together but we are not meant to be in this one”

“Why? I love you Y/N and I know part of you loves me too. I felt it in the quarter final and again in the semi final. Give me one good reason why?”

“We just aren’t. First I loved you and you didn’t love me, then you loved me and I loved Caroline and now you love me and I don’t love myself. Love should be this hard Alexia”

Alexia had enough. She couldn’t understand why you were so adamant on standing in the way of what could be.

“Love is hard Y/N but it is also the most rewarding thing in the world. We spend our whole lifetimes trying to find our soulmates. I found mine when I was 15 and it was you, that wasn’t hard”

“Alexia I don’t know what you want from me. You’ve said this before and look what happened. I gave you my whole heart and you broke it like it was nothing. I don’t think I can do that again”

“I want to tell you I am in love with you Y/N and I know I’ve hurt you before but that will never happen again. You deserve the world and I want to be the one to give you that”

You didn’t know what to say but you knew what you wanted to do. You lean forward, cup Alexia’s cheek and kiss her softly. Never had a kiss felt so right, so good. You pull away knowing that maybe you shouldn’t have done what you just did. Alexia on the other hand didn’t share the same belief because that kiss was nowhere near enough for her.

She leans forward but with enough force to knock you back. She now hovers above you waiting for your permission because in this moment you held all the cards. You reach up and kiss her only for Alexia to take over. You had never experienced a kiss filled with so much love and passion. You didn’t need to listen to what your head was telling you because your body make it crystal clear that you wanted Alexia.

Her hands began to roam your body and found their way under your shirt. It was getting heated and knew where it was going. You also knew that this couldn’t happen on a beach in Australia.

You push her off you but when you she the look of sheer panic in Alexia’s eyes you quickly peck her lips to reassure her this is not something you want to stop.

“I love you Alexia and if I give you a chance, if I give you my heart again, then I need you to promise me that you’ll look after it”

Alexia stands to her feet and holds her hands out to help to you up. Once at eye level she takes both of your hands in her own.

“I promise Y/N. I will take care of you. I will protect your heart as if it was my own. I will love you with every fibre of my being. If you give me a chance, I promise I will never hurt you the way I did”

“Ok” your tone is quiet but the smile on your face is wide.

“Ok?” Alexia asks as if needing a double confirmation.

“Yes Alexia. I love you and I will give you another chance”

Alexia couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She really did think that the outcome of this conversation would be different but right now in the moment, even after losing the final, she has never been happier. You had given her the chance to rewrite a wrong from four years ago and she wasn’t going to waste the opportunity.

#Alexia Putellas x reader #alexia putellas one shot #alexia putellas imagine #woso x reader #woso one shot #woso imagine #barcelona femeni x reader #barcelona femeni one shot #Barcelona femeni imagine #espwnt x reader #espwnt imagine #espwnt one shot

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asraindarkness · 18 days ago

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If it’s okay, not necessarily BuckTommy but -

This season feels SO weird. It’s even weirder because for the first time they had a long time to plan it - they knew they were renewed for a Season 8 early into Season 7. So much so that, for the first time, they let the season end with a cliffhanger. Multiple, even.

And they they dropped all of them in a rushed and unsatisfactory way. If they didn’t want S7’s plots to continue on to 8, they could’ve ended them in S7. Never bring Ortiz or Gerard back. But instead, they went with the oddest choice and created a nice cliffhanger, only to disappoint pretty much everyone.

But for me it’s more than that. It’s also the way the characters don’t always feel like them. You’re telling me Buck never went into a deep dive about queer history or rights when he discovered he’s bi?? that Maddie would make the making men gay comment?? that Chimney wouldn’t talk to Hen about the possible second pregnancy?? I could go on and on.

And the dynamics also feel… broken. We barely have friendship moments, at all. Buddie this season feels weird, like Eddie doesn’t really want to be bothered by Buck. Hen and Chim are barely communicating. The firefam doesn’t have moments outside of emergencies (save that montage of them asking Bobby for help).

It feels like the writers have stopped knowing how to write these characters and their dynamics. And for me the found family that I fell in love with at first watch feels gone, you know?

i’ve been saying this since s6!

like aren’t they tried of keep writing buck the same all the time??? he doesn’t get promoted on his job that he’s fucking good at it, they had a kind of story about it when buck wanted to be captain in s6 and then bridge fall happened and buck was a fucking powerhouse in it and i thought they finally gonna show buck more that just a young goofy firefighter that thinks on his feet, show them he’s a leader but then they dropped it.

he doesn’t get into lasting relationship and is always chasing one and apparently now he’s gonna forget his character’s growth and gonna be right back in s1. it’s like buck’s always gonna be the boyish bratt they made in s1 when he was 25/6 not a 33yo man!

eddie can’t fucking move on for 6/7 years and tries constantly to make a mom out of everything woman he dates but now a confession and a random priest apparently healed him like he was possessed not fucking mentally traumatized!

madney are most of the times are dealing with doug that comes out like random jump scares. maddie had 2 stories last season both was about her trauma with him. yes you can’t heal from something like that for a long time or possibly never but for god’s sake that woman raised his brother as his own child when she was still a child herself and what did 911 do with this part of her? NOTHING

and you don’t need me talk about hemren’s endless suffering

and where is athena’s children???

it’s been a mess since s6 but now it’s wors cuz tim starts writing 5 minutes before they start shooting. i said it 100 times the only thing good about s7 was buck’s bi arc. they make a big deal out of problems and solve them in most childish ways in the same episode!

i know it’s basically a soap opera but ffs it’s not a fantasy. they pulled dead wife no.2 cuz it’s a soap but in what word a child can land a plane?

honestly after i reed that tim rewatched the whole thing before writing for bi buck i was sure the show gonna back to its root where chim and hen are besties and hen and athena spend time together etc etc, but apparently all he got from that is abby had a boyfriend named tommy

#911 abc #bucktommy #asra answers

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moonyswife · 3 months ago

Text

chemtrails over the country club

nobody's son, nobody's daughter.

jason grace x poseidon daughter! reader

part I

1.3k

warnings: allusions to making out, overthinking, i think that’s it.

Jason didn't remember how he found himself in this position, not that he complained, a couple weeks ago he awoke in the back of the bus, with a fake relationship and a fake friendship, since their quest and clearing things up with leo and piper, a genuine friendship blossomed within the trio. now his hands were on her hips, her name was engraved on his mind and he swore that if they wiped his memories again, she would haunt him forever.

y/n , daughter of poseidon, sister of his missing counterpart in this wicked exchange program, the girl that currently was sucking on his pulse. he grabbed her face between his hands, caressing her cheeks as he looked upon her face, how could she be so beautiful, maybe it was because they were sitting on the sand of the beach, anytime she was near a body of water it made her have a different glow to her, it made him even more attracted to her. as she sat on his lap with their arms around the other, the sun was setting behind them and their troubles were miles away, puffy lips, red cheeks and marks on their collars were a clear indicator of their ‘sparring’ session as they claimed. “we are friends, right?” she asked, “above this arrangement, i mean, we are friends, right?” “yeah, sure” he didn’t know how to respond, jason had no idea what she wanted to hear, sure, ever since a that fateful night when he came back from his quest, the day she kissed him on the porch of his cabin and they had talked a little ever since he fell from the sky to her domain at camp, he didn't want to give more thought to his feelings for her, he wasn’t ready to dip his toes in those waters. her eyes looked troubled like the sea during a storm, but she did not ask or say anything else, she just kissed his cheek and got up, jason shivered suddenly feeling the cold of the absence of her body pressed against his, “will i see you at dinner?” the words fell out of his mouth involuntarily, “i don't’ really feel like eating, but if annie goes i will” she exhaled, jason nodded, he didn’t know much, but he knew that you were sisters, maybe not biologically or on the godly side, but the connection you two had was one of the first things he noticed when he arrived at camp. “you know, leo should hurry up with the ship, i venture there’s at least one person that’ll miss you the way annie and i miss my brother” she left as soon as the last word left her mouth, trying to ignore that jealous pang in her stomach and the guilt that settled within.

Jason Grace was left speechless, sure, he did thought about his life before, but since his meeting with juno/hera he had decided not to dwell on the past, he had to think ahead, like a good roman, something was brewing, he could not think about his lost life and memories, he needed to think about his newfound mission in his newfound home and the prophecy. he grieved a life not remembered, but feelings could not detour his fate, so he kept them at bay, training, spending time with his friends (2), sharing information and knowledge with annabeth chase, who he didn’t really know, but respected and feared.

y/n felt guilty, jealous, angry, sad, disturbed, and very very attracted to jason grace, she had selfishly kept this affair going, even knowing that maybe her new friend piper, whom she held a high respect for, may still harbor feelings towards that handsome blond boy, or worse, that he may have an annabeth on that roman camp of his. she tried to forget the latter, even though it was a recurring one ever since annabeth confessed her fear of losing the percy she knew, what if she was taking advantage of hera’s sick and twisted plan, what if she lost her brother? maybe not physically, but spiritually, what if, like jason, he didn't get his whole memory back? what would he or annie or grover think of her making out with the poor roman boy that has half a mind, that she had just merely met and that when she met him, he was dating her ‘friend’. unfortunately, her racing and troubled mind only seemed to calm down when he was near, ever since she found his electric blue eyes, she was intrigued to say the least, and when he returned her bold kiss on his porch, she knew she was done for. he was her newfound grace, all she could think about surrounded him, her mind was in the clouds with the son of jupiter, but their relationship was not only physical, they were friends, or so she hoped, making out sessions were just a pastime of theirs, a certainly enjoyed one, just not the only thing they did as his time at the greek camp went by.

ever since their fall from grace in that chariot to their quest, the trio of jason, piper and leo had spent quite a time with her and annabeth, trying to figure out their connections with each others quest and prophecies, she and annie had grown close to piper, a beautiful, smart, kind and funny girl, and to leo, who was certainly a character to remember, he was loud, pretty funny, kinda pathetic and completely unhinged. she would lying if she said she didn’t enjoy hanging out with them. jason, on the other hand, was a whole new world to her, he was roman, she didn’t even think about the roman gods, he was a son of their zeus (yuck) counterpart, jupiter, with electric blue eyes and a soldier-like kind vibe to him, she did not like him when they first met(apart from physically), as the hours turned into days and her new friends and fellow campers were claimed, they got to know each other, things gradually turning into what they’re now.

—----- sitting on his lonely table at camp, he could not help but think about what y/n had said before and dwell on his scattered memories, did he have someone that missed him like they miss percy jackson? did he have an annabeth? did he have a girlfriend? should he remember? he’d be lying if he said he’d never thought about that before, but he never paid much mind to it, he pretty much crossed out him having a girlfriend at his previous camp when he talked thing through with piper, so no one misses him like annabeth misses percy, and things with his sister were just alright, they kept in contact since their last meeting, so no one misses him like y/n misses percy, maybe he just wasn't that important to people, maybe he was just juno’s champion, he was great and powerful, there’s no need to deny that, but he didn’t remember any interpersonal connections or friendships, at least not like the greek claimed to have with the son of poseidon, he should feel bad, sorry for himself, but he didn’t, as little as he knows, he did everything his father asked of him, and now he has a new mission.

not to mention the weird comfortableness he felt at this camp, he had friends like leo and piper, along with a cordial acquaintances with annabeth chase and fellow campers, besides the flutter in his heart and the tightness of his stomach whenever he thinks of you is so damn hard to ignore. life at camp half-blood was pretty good, his next thought scared him, this place was starting to feel like home, he wished and hoped that when all this confusion and prophecies were over, he could still call this place home.

#jason grace #percy jackson #jason grace my beloved #jason grace x reader #pjo hoo toa #heros of olympus #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #jason grace x you #jason grace x y/n #moonyswife

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venerawrites · 8 months ago

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Hi! I'm so excited you're writing for Naruto 🥰 So many blogs don't really write for it anymore, so I'm so grateful 🫶🏻 Could I please request Kakashi x fem reader angst, where reader and Kakashi are in an established relationship, maybe even married, but they get ambushed on a mission and reader sacrifices herself to save him? I really love Kakashi and I'm in an angsty kinda mood. Anyway thank you so much, I hope this is okay. Have a nice day! ❤️

author's note: I'm so sorry this took ages to write! I keep slipping in and out of angsty mood, so it did take longer than expected! x anyway, I really hope you enjoy it, and thank you so much for requesting! <3

warnings: mentions of death, blood, alcohol abuse

Never mix personal life with your professional duties.

This was one of the most important rules of the shinobi world. They have tried to drill this mantra into your heads since your early teenage years and kept repeating it every so often, just in case you forget.

Growing up, it was easy to follow this principle - all of your friends were civilians and you weren't particularly close with anyone from the academy, so you lived your life in peace, knowing that you don't have to worry about the people you loved and cared about.

Little did you know, however, that a certain white-haired shinobi would change that in your adulthood...

You heard of Kakashi in your early academy days. Being three years older than you and already an ANBU, your knowledge about him was based only on the rumours that kept circling the village about his past and the unfortunate death of his teammates. But it wasn't till he became a Jonin sensei, that you had the chance to meet him for the first time.

You did not have a team to lead on your own, but due to your hard work and devotion to the kids in the academy, you were often sent to help with their training and low-level missions. Team 7 was often the one needing the most help since it not only consisted of the stubborn and grumpy last survivor of the Uchiha clan, but also the hyper-energetic and mischievous 9 tails Jinchuriki.

Naturally, you and Kakashi became close. Having to supervise and protect a group of highly intelligent, stubborn, and, often, reckless genins proved to be a good enough reason for you to form some from of a friendship.

It did take a couple of years for love to blossom between you. With him being occupied primarily with the training of young ninjas and ensuring the safety of the Hidden Leaf Village, romance was not one of the things on his list of priorities. And at the time he was fine with this - you can't miss something that you never had.

But the more you matured, the more you gravitated towards each other. You worked so well together, that you started to be regularly paired for missions excluding his students. Soon after, you started to spend time outside work together. Before you knew it, you became partners in more sense than once.

And the more time passed, the more blurry the line between work and pleasure became... to the point that one single mistake changed everything.

It was a peaceful night when it happened. A day away from Konoha, you, Guy, and Kakashi were resting on your way back from delivering the sealed scrolls containing information about the next Chunin exams to Suna. You had found a small cave, tucked deep in the forest, and decided it was the perfect place to hide not only from any potential attacks, but also from the raging rain outside.

"C'mon!", you nudged Kakashi's shoulder with your own, before throwing one look at sleeping Guy and turning back to your lover, "He is deep asleep, he won't hear a thing."

The white-haired ninja gave you a stern look, but the little smile that formed on his covered lips betrayed his real mood. Moving his focus on the fire before you, he poked the burning wood with a stick, before mumbling:

"One more reason to stay still and alert", he pointed out, giving you a playful side glance, "We are supposed to be on guard."

Rolling your eyes, you let out a childish puff and crossed your arms in front of your chest.

"Guard from what? The owls?", you whined, before nudging him one more time, "C'mon, Kakashi! One kiss is all I am asking for! I haven't kissed you in like... weeks!"

"We have been away only for a few days", he lifted his brow in amusement, before leaning towards you, "And I am pretty sure you managed to steal yourself a kiss this morning. Your math is awfully bad, little dove."

You opened your mouth to respond, but quickly closed it after no good comeback came to your mind. It was true that you last shared a kiss this morning and you did exaggerate a bit about the time that has passed since then, but can anyone blame you? You were deep in your honeymoon phase when all you could think about was your lover and the feeling of his lips against yours... And making it worse, was the fact that he purposefully took with him that rich and smoky smelling perfume, that was driving you insane.

"Kakashi!", you whined his name, giving him a pleading look. Tilting his head to the side, he let out a chuckle, before carefully pulling his mask down, exposing his beautiful face.

Slowly leaning towards you, he maintained eye contact, before pressing his slightly chapped lips against yours. Immediately fluttering your eyes close, your hands found their way behind your neck, pressing his face closer toward you. Letting out a contempt sigh, you leaned to your right, giving you a better angle to keep up with the sensual dance your mouths indulged in.

After a few seconds, he pulled away, pressing the cold metal of his headband against your forehead. His breath was heavy and he gave himself a minute, calming his wildly beating heart.

"Happy, little dove?"

A wide smile stretched on your face and you eagerly nodded your head, about to respond, when you suddenly got interrupted by the loud sound of a kunai landing right above your head. Both you and Kakashi, immediately jumped from your places, your hands already reaching for your own weapons, while you shouted to Guy to wake up.

Your attackers quickly filled the cave and they visibly outnumbered you, leaving you to fight two of them each. You knew Kakashi and Guy could handle themselves, they were one of the most skillful shinobi in Konoha, after all. Yet the moment you saw one of the ninjas sneaking behind your lover's back with a sword raised high in the air, your feet suddenly had a mind of their own. You dodged a punch aimed at your face, but rather than fighting back, your body threw itself behind Kakashi, a piercing scream leaving your lips once the blade went through your stomach.

The world around the white-haired ninja abruptly stopped.

All the shouting, the sound of clashing weapons, Guy's screams for him to focus... the moment he fell your body crashing against his, it was all silence. His arms instinctively wrapped around you, protecting you from falling on the rocky ground, while his knees gave up under him. One of his hands immediately moved towards your wound, trying his best to stop the bleeding, while his other one found its way towards your face.

Kakashi's fingers shakily moved towards your forehead, moving away the few damp pieces of hair sticking to your skin. Tracing the side of your cheek, he didn't even notice he was crying, till a few teardrops fell down onto your skin. Your eyes, which were also glossy, stared at him and your lips moved, trying to say something, but the only thing that came out was blood.

"Shh, don't talk", Kakashi choked out, pressing his fingers against your mouth. Finally gaining the courage to look down, all the breath left his body once he saw how much blood you were losing, despite his best attempts to stop the bleeding.

"We have to get you to the village the fastest way possible", he muttered with a shaking voice, his arms sneaking under your body in order to lift you. You moaned from pain at the contact, using the last bit of energy to grab one of his wrists.

"N-no...", you whispered, a hefty amount of blood dripping from the corner of your mouth, "Hel-.. He.. Help Guy..."

Hearing the name of your teammate, Kakashi finally remembered you were not alone, and his head whipped around only to find the other male continuing the fight all by himself. His rough posture and scratches covering all over his face were showing he would not last long and Kakashi immediately felt his chest tightening.

He knew he had to join in and help him, but how could he leave you all alone, bleeding to your death?

Almost as if you were reading his mind, you weakly squeezed the wrist in your hold:

"Go...", you muttered, your lips twitching into a small, sad smile, "I... I will... b-be... f-fine."

"Little dove, don't... I... Why...", Kakashi cried out, not sure how to finish this sentence. Grasping your face with his hands, he pressed his mouth against yours, ignoring the metallic taste that immediately washed over his senses once your blood touched his tongue. His tears were now freely falling from his eyes and he could not hold his sobs back any longer.

Your lips weakly moved against his for a minute, before you had to sharply take a breath. Your consciousness was slowly slipping away and your gaze was now cloudy, unable to focus on one particular thing. You felt coldness slowly making its way through your limbs, bringing a strangely welcoming feeling of numbness and peace. Despite your vision getting blurry, your head tilted to the side, the outline of your lover's face still clear.

"I.. I love y-you", you breathed out, one final tear making its way from the corner of your eye. Kakashi carefully caught it with his thumb, his head violently shaking from side to side.

"No, no, no!", he kept repeating, his voice cracking, "Please just... please just stay with me!"

Your stare remained unmoving and it took a few seconds for the white-haired ninja to realize that your breathing had stopped as well.

It was too late...

you were gone.

Dozens of feelings washed over the Leaf shinobi at the same time. Pain. Sadness. Rage. Shock.

With an angry scream, he pressed your now limp body against him, while one of his hands moved to move his headband away from his face, showing his already glowing Sharingan.

The fight lasted a few minutes afterward, maybe even less. Fuelled by his raw pain, Kakashi did not hold himself back, slaying all of the enemy ninjas one by one. Soon the ground was crimson red and the only remaining sound was the white-haired man rigid breathing and the sound of the rain, which kept pouring outside the cave.

"Kakashi...", Guy carefully said, his gaze moving to your already cold body which rested in the corner of the cave. He bit his lip, unsure what to say, choosing instead to remain still and quiet. He couldn't control himself, however, once Kakashi's heavy breathing turned into sobs again, and he wrapped his arms around his friend.

"I am sorry...", the black-haired man sighed, a shaky breath leaving his lips as well. His own eyes started to tear up and he tried his best to blink them away, a poor attempt to remain strong for your lover, who was already falling apart in his arms.

The next few hours they spent in silence, with Guy guarding the entrance, while Kakashi held your cold hand in his own, his eyes staring at your face like he hoped you were just in a deep sleep and would wake up any moment.

Or perhaps, he was hoping that he was the one dreaming and that once the sun rose high in the sky, he would wake up, finding your smiling face nested comfortably between his neck and shoulder...

But that never happened. Instead, the hours kept passing with him frozen in his place next to you, till Guy gently laid his hand on his back, telling him it was time to go. With one last kiss on your cold forehead, Kakashi took off his jacket and laid it carefully over your body, before scooping it in his arms.

Leaving the cave, his eyes kept staring ahead, his expression now unreadable. The memories of you, that kept flashing before his eyes during the whole night, were now pushed at the back of his brain, while only one though kept occupying his mind:

Never mix personal life with your professional duties.

He failed to do that.

Again.

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

"Tsk, how sad!", the man behind Kakashi muttered under his breath, "I bet he is spending his whole pay on drinks again!"

The woman next to him shushed him, hitting him on the shoulder while doing so.

"Be quiet!", she scolded, "He will hear you!"

The man scoffed, his eyes not moving from the white-haired ninja before him, who kept calmly putting his shopping away, without even glancing in their direction.

"Well, let him hear! Because it is pathetic, it's what it is!", he grumbled, making sure to speak as loudly as he could, "One of our best ninjas turned alcoholic... Look at him! He doesn't even look like himself anymore!"

Years ago Kakashi would have turned around and silenced them just with a glare. But now... he had no more energy for that.

Because they didn't understand and would never be able to understand what he had gone through. They would never have to bear the burden of having someone else's blood on their hands, neither would they experience the feeling of guilt that would tear their soul apart, a constant reminder that they could not protect the ones they loved.

So why would he bother explaining to them that the only reason why he had to be under the influence, was because this was the only way to feel close to you again? The only way to silence the voices inside his head, which kept reminding him how it was him who was supposed to be dead, not you?

Instead of replying, he just grabbed his bag and exited the shop. He walked hurriedly towards his house, eager to open the bottle of sake he just bought and mute the feeling of missing you, that kept breaking his heart every single time he was completely sober.

"Kakashi!", Guy's voice sounded somewhere behind him, and his step halted for a bit, turning around. His friend gave him a little smile, which immediately fell, once his eyes fell on the neck bottle which poked out of Kakashi's bag. It was not easy to watch one of your best friends falling deeper and deeper into a hole, refusing any of your help.

The white-haired man suddenly felt small, almost embarrassed by the look the other male gave him. But instead of waiting, the moment he saw him walking towards him, he just turned around and almost sprinted back to his house.

Closing the door, he let out a breath, he didn't even know he was holding. Kicking his shoes aside, he made his way towards the kitchen and took out the piece of bread and the few bottles of alcohol he had brought earlier. Opening one of them, he didn't even bother to grab a glass, before he made his way towards the bedroom and sat down against his pillows.

Grabbing the picture of you that he kept on the bedside table, he gently traced your smile with his thumb, before taking a sip of his drink. The burning sensation in his throat was irritating, but it was nothing compared to the burning feeling inside his chest.

"We will be together soon, little dove...", he smiled sadly, "I promise."

cc artwork: concept art for "Wheel of Time"

#kakashi hatake #kakashi x reader #kakashi imagines #kakashi fanfiction #naruto imagines #naruto headcanons #kakashi angst

106 notes · View notes

becauseicantthinkwritings · 2 years ago

Text

Teeth

Part 14

Masterlist

Warnings: Smut (18+), angst by the buckets.

'We should talk.'

'I'd rather not.'

It's been two days.

Two days since you've been in his presence, avoiding every mention and sight of him, making yourself as scarce as possible.

Two days since you kissed him.

Your body heats up at the memory. The way he grabbed you, held you close, returned your feverish kisses with some of his own.

You look down at your phone, swallowing when you see the read receipts light up on the message you just sent.

In true Billy fashion, he doesn't respond.

What a fucking pain in the ass, you think angrily.

You shake your head, dropping your phone onto your desk and throwing yourself into your work.

This time, you're not worried about possible fallouts, he'd definitely kissed you back, right?

Fuck, what a kiss. Your toes curled at the memory, a spot deep inside you aching, emphasizing the emptiness inside of you.

It was too much, the knowledge of what his mouth tasted like, the feel of his passionate hands on your body.

How could you ever hope to forget that it had happened? Did you even want to?

The answer was no.

You didn't want to forget it, and you didn't think it was a mistake either.

But it definitely wasn't a good thing.

Especially now, when your relationship had grown more strained in the last two days.

Friendship, what a dumb word.

If you weren't still upset with him, you'd probably go back up to his office and grip him by his stupid tie once more.

You think about kissing him again, kicking one leg over his hip, grinding your body against his. Maybe you'd slip between his legs and pull his thick cock out of his pants-

You gasp, blinking back into reality, aware that you've been staring at the same sentence for minutes now.

You swallow, clicking the document away with a sigh.

You toss your head back in your chair, take a small stretch, try to remind yourself why you were mad at Billy.

Right, he was too indecisive. One moment he holds you close and tells you the most amazing things, the next he's avoiding you.

If you followed through on any of your fantasies with him, there was a high chance that he'd ghost you afterwards.

He probably just didn't like you as much as you'd hoped.

It was a painful thought.

He was watching you.

Like the world's biggest creep.

Billy didn't completely understand why you were angry with him, but it was killing him inside. He needed to know, he needed to fix it.

It had been two days and he hadn't seen you in person since. You'd become very good at avoiding him.

The absolute torment of seeing you everyday to not at all and all he had was the memory of a kiss that still made his lips tingle and his cock hard.

Now, the only way he could see you was on the little camera feed tucked into a corner wall of the office workspace area.

The camera quality was grainy, really just put in and not monitored unless there was an issue.

Billy had opened the feed five times in the last two days.

It was getting ridiculous, he didn't want another day to go by without trying to talk to you. You'd given him a rather clear message to leave you alone, but he couldn't, not after knowing how hurt you were, and definitely not after he found out how sweet your mouth tasted.

Like fucking strawberries.

He needed to make amends.

You regret not going out tonight when Amy had offered. You could have been at a nice bar right now, sipping on a fancy margarita, laughing with your friends.

But you’d turned them down.

Why the fuck had you turned them down?

Friday night, and you’d just decided to take a bath and lie in bed.

It wasn't so bad, you reasoned, you only wished you were with them because you were in bed. If you'd been at the bar, you'd be sitting there, wishing you were here instead.

You smile, your therapist might praise you for becoming that level of self aware.

When there's a knock at your door, you raise your head in surprise.

Logically, it could only be one person. The one with the appropriate security clearance to make it up to your door without you being informed beforehand.

You take a deep breath, wondering what he would possibly want to say to you at a time like this.

You’re greeted with flowers.

You see them before you see his face, pink and white tulips, wrapped in a rustic brown paper and some thread that’s looped tightly around your chest just comes loose at the sight of him.

What did you address him as now? William? Mister Russo? Billy? What did you call your boss that you’d kissed in a heated rush in his office during working hours?

“Hey.” Is all you end up saying.

He says your name in greeting, looking down at the bouquet in his arms for a second.

“May I come in?”

May he? Was this a good idea?

You nod, pulling your door wider and sidestepping to let him in.

“Is there… something I can help you with?”

“You’ve been avoiding me.” He comments, avoiding your eyes.

Straight to the point.

“Yes.” You agree.

He finally turns to look at you, something unnameable in his eyes.

“Why?” He asks.

You give him a smile of apology, eyes drifting to the tulips still in his arms.

“Those for me?”

He nods, extending them out to you.

Your hands brush as you take them, turning away from him to find a place for them.

“They’re beautiful,” You state, “How did you know they were my favourite?”

"I didn’t.” He says, the awkwardness between you is as palpable as if it were a third person standing in the room.

He's silent as you take your time, searching for the appropriate vase to put them in. You press your nose to them and hum happily as the soft petals touch your cheek.

"Would you like something to drink?" You offer, turning to him.

He swallows.

"No. Why are you avoiding me?" He presses, going straight to the point.

You grin quietly into the flowers.

"I feel like you avoided me first." You hedge the question, looking eagerly at him for a response.

He looks a little irked, looking away from you and taking a deep breath, pretending to study your apartment.

"That's what this is about?"

"In part, you just kind of piss me off in general."

He raises his eyebrows in astonishment, still not meeting your eyes.

"Well this is confusing, considering that you kissed me." He challenges.

You wanted to rage at him, curse his stunning looks and captivating personality for pulling you into him, and this mindset of affection toward him.

Instead you suck in a breath.

"I feel like everytime we get close- as friends- you just… you pull as far away from me as humanly possible."

You let out a long sigh, leaving the bouquet of tulips in their spot on your kitchen counter, moving to plop onto your couch in a dramatic flourish.

You grab one of your throw pillows, setting it in your lap and squeezing tightly.

“Of course I’m avoiding you,” You continue, “I’m just expecting you to pull away again.”

You look at him for a moment, as he takes in your words. You can almost watch him process them, eyelids fluttering as he maybe debates internally.

“I’m sorry.” He finally says, coming to sit beside you on your couch. His eyes are earnest and warm, and it takes you by surprise.

You honestly doubted he’s said those words to many people.

“I push you away, I do, when I first offered you the job, you said that you weren’t interested if I was only doing it to get involved with you.”

He swallows, he looks so nervous that your heart almost breaks for him.

“I just didn’t want you to think that was true.” He continues, “You’re a good employee, but the more I get to know you, the more I want to, and I find that very dangerous.”

“Billy.” You say in a measured tone, waiting for him to stop avoiding your gaze and look at you directly.

“I believe you. You’ve made it very clear that you think I’m good for the job and I respect that.”

You can feel something shift between you, the animosity turning into understanding.

“I want to know you better too.” You finish, voice soft, earnest.

He blinks quickly, looking away. You can’t help your body’s response to him, the memory of his mouth on yours sparking up ill-timed tingles.

“I don’t want anyone devaluing your work because we’re close.” He responds.

Chest constricting, you smile sadly.

“I- that means a lot to me. But, people will find any excuse to do what they want. I just want to be true to myself and let the pieces fall where they have to.”

He looks at you, the corners of his mouth pulling subtly upwards.

“So, you forgive me then?”

You reach for his hand, covering it with yours, giving an affectionate squeeze.

“Of course I do.”

He turns his hand upward, interlocking your fingers, eyes drifting down to look at your joined hands.

Tingles spread from where he touches, moving from your arm all the way up to your chest. You gulp, looking at him, studying his face, remembering the kiss.

That damned kiss.

You watch him take a deep breath, and he looks up at you. It’s a long and heated moment and he doesn’t look away, doesn’t pull back.

You don’t know who moves, or if you both do, like magnets being pulled into each other, a force of attraction that cannot be seen with the bare eye, cannot be felt by anyone else other than you.

He’s so close that your noses almost brush. You can feel his warm breath dancing across your skin in little puffs.

"We, we um," You try to focus on anything other than his lips, looking into his half opened dark eyes as you try to speak, "We shouldn't be alone together."

"No?" He asks softly, a little tilt of his head and you watch his eyes drop to your lips, "Why's that?"

"Because..." You trail off.

Because I can't keep myself in control around you, you want to say.

Instead, you close the distance between your bodies, leaning in to kiss him.

A low sigh leaves the back of your throat as your lips meet. You feel your stomach flip happily at the reunion of your mouths.

He groans, the vibrations tingle against your lips, his large hand rising to cup your jaw, warm thumb stroking over your cheek.

You move closer, till you're almost in his lap, your fingers twitch nervously as your hands rest on his chest, sliding their way up into his hair.

You try to fight the urgency, the impatience scratching at the back of your head to just take and take and take.

Your lips part, gently tracing the tip of your tongue along his bottom lip for only a second before pulling back.

He makes an abrupt sound, drawing back suddenly, breaking the kiss. His movements are so surprising that you lean away from him and allow him the space to stand.

Your heart squeezes as you look at his back.

You're almost afraid to ask.

"Is everything okay?"

He doesn't speak for a long moment, raising a hand to rake through his hair.

"Yes, just wanted to check- are you sure about this?"

You blink.

"Yes, I am... are you? It's okay if you don't like me that much, we can stop."

He spins around as if you've said something positively absurd.

"Like you? You think I don't like you?"

You look down sadly, smoothing a hand over your knees.

"Well, yeah, you, you dismiss me sometimes as if you're not interested. It can come across as dislike, or even a little mean."

"Mean?" He says, taking long strides to stand before you, your head tilting down to follow his form as he kneels before you.

He looks at you for too long, and you have to look away or melt into a puddle under the pull of his dark eyes.

Carefully, he raises his hands to cover yours, smoothing over your skin with the tips of his fingers.

"When I'm around you, I'm usually using every ounce of strength I have to stop myself, to hold back so that I don't scare you off."

He swallows, tilting his head, his eyes locked on your joined hands.

"I want so many things, and you most of all. I've just been shit at showing it."

"You really have." You agree.

A smile pulls at the corners of his lips.

You raise a hand, cupping his cheek softly, thumb exploring the pout of his lips, the scratch of his beard.

His eyebrows draw together, he leans in, rubbing his bearded cheek into your hand.

"I'm worried," He whispers, "That I won't be able to stop."

"I trust you." You say to him softly, reaching up with your other hand to curl your fingers into the collar of his shirt.

"And I don't want you to stop."

You pull him in then, his body pressed to yours as you seal your lips together in a heated rush. Your body trembles with the sensation of having him all around you, so close like he's the layer of air surrounding you.

His hands cup your cheeks, blunted fingers gripping tight, daring you to be apart from him for more than the space of a breath.

Your insides unfurl with something akin to delight, your toes curl. You lean into him more, accepting anything he's willing to give, and answering with desire of your own.

You fight to keep the kiss slow, enjoy the way his mouth moves sinfully on yours.

But it's too powerful, this need you have for him, you want to scratch and claw and submit and surrender and take and it just turns like a tornado in your head until you're biting gently on his bottom lip, tugging on it with careful precision, body pulsing as you hear the low sound that leaves him.

He draws away for a moment looking at you with even eyes.

"You torment me." He whispers, pressing his lips to yours once more, any pretence of slow and careful being thrown out of the window.

You torment me too, you want to say.

He rises, pushing you back until your body lies flat on your couch, and he hovers above you. You keep his mouth firm to yours, fingers tangled in his soft hair, exploring his back and shoulders, and when you part your lips again, jutting your tongue out playfully, you're delighted when you meet his tongue in return.

Your legs on either side of his hips gripping him tight, daring him to pull away from you as he kisses you senseless, your tongues dancing together in wet bliss.

"I could kiss you all night." Billy says between kisses.

You nod, humming in agreement, pulling his mouth back to yours.

Your skin tingles, his careful fingers tracing your cheeks and moving down your neck.

You arch your body against his eagerly, so willing to give every part of yourself to him.

He slides his hand into the space between your arched back and the couch, keeping your body curved into his, your breasts rubbing against his chest, you wiggle your hips in an attempt to ease the near painful ache between your thighs.

You feel his cock then, stiff against his pants, and he groans into your mouth when your hips chase the firm sensation.

He whispers your name against your lips, a warm, broken sound of a man losing control of himself.

"Billy," You gasp, foreheads pressed together, resisting the heat of desire pulsing between your bodies, "I need you."

You feel his entire body shudder.

He nods, nose brushing yours as his lips move away from yours, kissing your jaw instead, and then the curve of your neck.

You cry out, his teeth worrying your skin, scraping against your sanity, soothing with gentle swipes of his tongue.

You feel yourself tremble, and tremble further when he moves down your body, frustrated hands pushing your dress up your thighs so that the bunched fabric settles on your hips.

He doesn't move for a moment, and you raise your head in worry to see him staring at the space between your parted thighs intensely.

"You don't have to." You whisper, misreading the expression on his face.

His dark eyes meet yours, he tilts his head for a moment, before his eyes drop to your clothed cunt once more.

"It's not that." He says, his hands starting at your ankles and sliding their way up your legs, "I've just thought about this a lot."

You bite down on your bottom lip very hard, trying to remain focused, and not beg him to fuck you within an inch of your life.

His hands stop midway between your knees and your ass, and he looks up at you.

"You want this?" He asks.

You almost groan in frustration.

"Yes, yes I really do."

"Tell me."

You gulp.

"Tell you?" You ask, your head too disoriented to focus on what he's asking you to do.

"Tell me you want me to lick your cunt."

A little needy sound leaves you at his words. You clench around nothing, gathering your thoughts for a second before you speak.

"Billy," You finally whisper, "Please, lick my... cunt."

A devilish smile pulls at his lips.

"Of course." He hums, his hands resuming their upward trail.

He grips either side of your underwear and you tilt your hips up, watching him anxiously, trying to read every expression on his face.

You know you're wet, that you've most likely soaked the gusset of your panties with your arousal.

You study him, as he tugs your undergarment off your legs and lays his eyes on your bare center for the first time.

His lips part, eyes dark as he looks at you. You watch his throat bob as he swallows.

Your breath catches as you feel the tips of his fingers graze your wet slit. Your mouth drops open at the gentle sensation.

His thumb finds your clit easily, grazing the swollen bud and you let out a harsh sob, back dropping onto the couch, unable to hold your body up.

"So. Fucking. Pretty." Billy says, so clearly that it makes you ache even more for him.

You groan when you feel his lips on your inner thigh, leaving careless tingles in the wake of his mouth, he kisses his way over your skin, and there's a short moment of pause where you feel a puff of his breath against your aching core before his mouth is on you.

A sweet kiss between your legs, a gentle promise to ease the ache inside you, and then he extends his tongue to slide against your clit.

It's like lightning, the speed at which the pleasure fills you, passing through you, amplifying, with the careful stroke of his tongue.

He groans between your thighs, his first taste of you leading to palms gripping at your thighs, fingers pressing into soft skin to keep you close.

His next lick is firmer, over and over again his tongue swipes over your clit, he makes another low moan, and the next glide of his tongue starts at your entrance and trails up to your clit.

You mewl, hands moving to cover your mouth, then down to cup his hands in yours, any attempt to process the delicious burn of pleasure blooming under your skin.

You sigh his name, you swear he answers with an easy swipe of his tongue.

It’s too much, embarrassingly so because he’s only just begun and here you are- already on edge for him.

Your resistance is futile.

His tongue claims ownership of your most delicate parts.

You never stood a chance.

Panting, your nails clawing at his hands, hearing his low voice hum in bliss between your thighs.

You make another soft groan of his name, it’s all you know, all you can remember in the hazy confines of your mind.

How is his tongue so skilled? How can he kindle you so easily? You are firewood and he’s a spark and now you’re burning just for him.

His beard tickles your thighs, you realised he’s paused his torment to kiss at your skin.

You’re helpless to it.

You can hear each desperate breath you take, it echoes in your ears, and then you let out another whine as he kisses your dripping cunt once again.

Filthy wet sounds as he takes care of you, tantalising groans as his tongue explores between your thighs, mapping places he’s only ever been in your mind.

The inferno rages, and when his lips massage your clit, sealing around it easily, his tongue playing with your swollen bud, you feel feverish with the euphoria.

“I- I’m-” You whimper, trying to tell him, an attempt to get him to understand.

He already does.

Groaning, one hand unfurling from around your thigh to reach his way up your body.

He tugs at your dress, pulling the strap off your shoulder and tugging it as far down as it will go. His tongue doesn’t slow as he pulls at your clothes, until one of your breasts is exposed to the cool air.

“Fuck.” You cry as he cups your hot skin, thumb finding your peaked nipple easily and dancing his thumb over it.

You feel the pleasure arc it’s way down your spine, joins with his tongue, threatens you with pleasure you’ve never experienced before.

You have one brief moment of sanity, where you’re acutely aware that your body is on a precipice, ready to fall at the next touch of Billy’s tongue.

All you can think in that one small moment is, Oh my fucking god.

And then you fall.

Frantic gasps as hot waves of pure pleasure crash over you. You feel the walls of your cunt spasm, clenching rhythmically around nothing. Every movement of your body is involuntary, each tremble and shake is something beyond your control.

Billy keeps the pleasure focused on you, helping you through your orgasm and into barely bearable territory.

He stops his torment when you whimper, pulling his messy mouth from your equally messy cunt, giving your breast another affectionate glide of his hand before pulling back.

You raise your head, looking up at him with half-lidded eyes, watching him lick your arousal off of his lips.

You look at each other for a long moment. There’s that worry in the back of your mind that a clear line has been crossed so severely that it cannot be taken back.

If he has any inkling of your current train of thought, he doesn’t show it, leaning in instead, his fingers gripping your chin softly to keep you close to him.

“If you’d let me, I’d spend the rest of the night with my head buried between your thighs.”

Your breath hitches, you clench around nothing.

He smiles, as if he knows exactly what he’s doing to you, observing your rumpled state, your dress pushed up to your hips, one strap falling off your shoulder, exposing your breast. You look like a proper mess where he still looks mostly put together.

You wanted to change that.

You sit up, sliding your body off your couch and standing on shaky legs. His eyes follow your every movement, and when you bunch your dress up, and tug it over your head, you try your hardest not to be shy about it.

He’s seen you touch yourself before, your mind supplies helpfully, it’s nothing to be naked in front of him.

It definitely helps, the reminder that he’s fucked his fist to the sight of you. You stand naked in front of him now, watching his every expression.

His eyes roam your bare skin, your body tingles at the feeling, his eyes as warm as a gentle touch on your skin. There’s just something about the moment, an understanding, a level of appreciation that’s so potent you can almost feel it.

He stands, takes a step in your direction.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” Billy says, his voice low and hoarse.

“Yeah?” You ask, raising a hand to cup the smooth underside of your breast.

When he takes a step toward you, you take one back. You can tell he’s intrigued by the idea of it, the slow chase.

“Of course you are. You make it hard for me to think when you walk into a room.”

He takes another step, and you mirror his movement.

“That sounds awful. How do you put up with me?” You tease, taking more steps back, slowly guiding him into your bedroom.

The corner of his mouth twitches.

“I think about pressing you to the first flat surface and making you mine.”

A shiver of delight goes down your spine.

“Is that why you’re always so mean? Because you’re thinking about fucking me?”

“Obviously.” He answers, before raising his arms above his head and pulling his shirt off in one magnificent display of muscle.

You let out a little squeak at seeing him up close, you almost run toward him, instead of backing away from him.

Even with his shirt off, he looks so magnificently dangerous that you can feel how bad your arousal is for him. His chest is broad and lined with a delicious amount of muscle, his biceps are near perfection, and your body tingles for a taste. A trail of hair from the spot below his navel into his pants makes you flushed with heat. You imagine briefly what is cock is like, remembering absentmindedly the time he assured you that he was bigger than the large dildo sitting in your nightstand.

What makes him more delectable is the scars that cover parts of his body. There are some on his left shoulder, what looks like a bullet hole in his lower abdomen. You gulp, acknowledging the fact that his flaws only make him more perfect, more mouthwatering.

You almost forget that you’re naked, only gasping in surprise when your back comes into contact with the chilled surface of your bedroom door.

He lets out a slow breath, palms pressed to either side of your body, not close enough to touch, but just enough to make you feel trapped, his warm breath on your skin.

“You want this?” He checks in, tilting his head to the side to observe you.

You nod, looking up at him, he nods along with you in a slight mocking manner.

“I want to hear you say it.” He murmurs, his fingertips tracing your shoulder gently, goosebumps on your skin as he works his way down your arm, taking your hand in his.

Your mouth parts in surprise when he presses your hand to the outline of his cock. You can feel the raw size of him, hot and stiff against the palm of your hand. You realise, in the back of your mind, that he really was large- bigger that you’d initially thought.

“Tell me you want me.” He pleads.

You gulp, hands exploring the stiff erection in his pants, your fingers squeezing around the sides to get an approximation of his girth. Your clit aches with just the idea of his size.

“I more than want you, Billy, I need you. Inside me, so deep that I never forget the feeling.”

He nods frantically, unable to hold himself back, he leans in to kiss you.

You throw your arms around his neck and enjoy the slide of your fingers against his hot skin.

He breaks the kiss for a second, lowering himself to grip your thighs. You wrap one careful leg around his hip, and upon his insistence you transfer your weight fully onto him, his hands supporting your naked backside.

You cling to him as he lifts you, desperate, body aching for more and more of his touch.

You’re not sure how he does it, and you have no time to marvel at his strength before he grips your jaw, bringing your mouth back to his.

You sigh, cupping his cheeks, fingers scratching at his beard, feeling the hairs tickle your palms. You melt into his body, feeling him groan as his mouth moves over yours.

He walks you into your room, and you have no care for your surroundings, your hands too busy exploring his back and shoulders and anywhere else you can get your hands on.

He bends, placing you gently onto your bed, his hands rising to cup your cheeks, and then making their way over every inch of your shoulders.

“God, you’re so soft.” He rumbles against your mouth. You gasp when his palms cup both your breasts in his large hands.

“I could just touch you all damn day.”

He’s so talkative now, and you find yourself loving each word that leaves his lips.

“Touch me all day, lick me all night- when am I getting fucked?” You tease, hearing him laugh into your mouth.

“When you ask for it.” He says decisively, pressing you onto your back.

It’s like he can’t leave your mouth, pulling back for a moment, only to draw back to your lips in a heated rush. It makes you laugh, your body readily receptive to him.

He kisses your neck and jaw, electric tingles all over your skin, desperate shivers as he cups your breasts, pushing them together and kissing over them.

You gasp, writhing below him, his mouth on your skin feels amazing, he works his way down and you gasp, your thighs spreading easily when he moves to settle himself between them.

He doesn’t say another word, his tongue reuniting with your clit, swirling careful circles around your heated bundle of nerves. You gasp, arching your back, fingers drifting into your hair.

“Billy!” You gasp, and the vigour of his tongue increases until he’s just flat out making out with your cunt.

Your head swims, pleasure in every essence of your cell and you feel a lone finger drift in careful circles at your entrance.

“Fuck!” You cry, feeling his finger hovering right at your entrance for a long moment. He’s mean, his fingers tormenting you as his tongue licks over your clit at a steady pace.

“Please,” You sob, tilting your hips up, trying to chase the pleasure he’s not yet ready to give.

You try to breathe through it, squirming beneath his body, his hand grips your hip, thumb moving in firm circles to keep you calm.

You shudder in bliss when his finger sinks halfway into you.

It’s not enough, and too much all at the same time. His breath on your mound, his tongue laving lazily at your clit, he curls his lone finger partially upwards, scattering pleasure before withdrawing his finger.

“No,” You cry, “Please please please please fuck me Billy,” Your breath hitches, “I need it so bad.”

You feel him hum, before his finger re-renters you.

“Poor sweet girl.” You think you hear him mumble from his spot between your thighs, and then he begins rocking his finger in you so gently, that it’s almost more of a micromovement than anything. Yet somehow still, he manages to give you pleasure.

“Please please please,” You keep whispering, afraid that he’s going to stop giving you what you need, what you crave for and dream about. He’s every fantasy come to life, tongue rolling over your clit wetly, an easy rhythm of pleasure that he draws out from you leaving no thoughts in its wake.

A broken sound escapes you, desperate, aching, and you think he almost feels apologetic with the way he lines up a second finger against your entrance.

It’s debauchery, the way his fingers feel, broader and longer than yours could ever, makes you feel so insanely full when he carefully pushes two digits all the way into you.

He fills the deepest parts of you, erases any sense of emptiness, makes you forget that you’d ever craved fullness in the first place.

And then his fingers start to move.

Your breath escapes you in a hot rush, mouth dropping open as he starts off slow, painfully slow, rocking his fingers into you, curling them up, making sure you feel every little movement.

His tongue is still playing with your clit, you feel like crying, you’ve never felt this way before.

You say his name, one hand moving from his hair, over to where he grips your hip. You want to hold his hand, and he obliges easily, fingers linking with yours, make you feel so much warmer and safer with him than ever before.

I’ve got you, he seems to say with his actions, go ahead and fall for me.

And of course you do.

Cunt spasming around his fingers, desperate cries leaving your mouth as he winds you up and helps you through your second release.

You whimper, little gasps leaving the back of your throat as your body shudders with the oncoming pleasure. He keeps pumping his fingers into you, and you can almost feel the smile he has on his face, pressed to your cunt. You squeeze his other hand in yours tightly, his thumb smoothing over your skin even then.

When he detaches from your heated centre, you sit up quickly.

You lean into him, pressing your mouth to his frantically, reaching for the zipper of his pants. He tries to help you, one hand trying to work at the button while the other grips the back of your head, but you only get in each other’s way.

You laugh into his mouth as you both fumble, but silently thankful when finally you get his pants undone.

He has to pull away with a grin on his face, climbing off the bed so that he can shove the material of his pants and his boxers off in one go.

You go brainless when you see his cock. Erect and near throbbing, a little bit curved, you feel your mouth water as you stare at the monster between his legs.

He was very right to tell you that he was bigger than your dildo, you swallow nervously, trying to figure out exactly how that was going to fit inside of you.

Your eyes manage to glance at this thigh, you see a deep gouge on the side of his right thigh, you tilt your head in worry wondering what could have caused a scar like that, one that runs from his hip to his knee.

It must have hurt terribly, and your heart aches for whatever malady he’s been through in his past.

You seek to give him pleasure now, crawling on all fours to the edge of your bed, looking up at him for a moment, before dropping your head to suckle at the tip of his cock.

Billy hisses.

The salty taste of his precum fills your mouth. You can’t help humming at the taste of him. Slowly, you begin to bob your head, taking as much as comfortably possible.

His fingers cup the back of your head, slightly guiding your movements with no real force behind it.

“Good girl,” He grunts, guiding your movements, you hear him shudder out a violent breath, “So good for me.”

It makes you even more aroused, to know that you’re capable of returning the pleasure he gives.

Something shifts in the next moment, and he’s pulling his cock from your mouth and encouraging you into a kneeling position on your bed.

Your eyes slip shut as his mouth meets yours, something frantic inside of him now, and you’re eager and helpless to give him what he wants.

Billy can’t fight the predator anymore. The sensation of you sucking eagerly on his cock is too much and his control has slipped beyond his scope of reach.

Your hair is askew as he guides you onto your soft pillows, silk, to protect your gorgeous hair from damage. He pauses to look at you, your obedient eyes, willing to comply with anything he asks and it fills him with an uncontrollable power. The scent of your arousal is thick in the room, the aftertaste of your mouth and your cunt mixing on his tongue until he couldn’t extract himself from you even if he tried.

He hums, pressing his cock against your inner thigh, the heat and softness of your skin filling him with too much want. He’s fighting the predator, that pushes him to claim what was already his, what would be freely given to him if he asks.

His nose brushes your cheek gently.

“Are you sure you want this?” Billy asks softly, and you almost want to groan in frustration.

“Yes, please.” You say on a desperate breath, and you feel him kiss your cheek in response.

He takes your left hand in his, kissing at the tips of your fingers and you wonder if after tonight you’d be able to feel the ghost of his lips on your skin.

Fingers intertwined, your legs wrapped tightly around his hips, he uses his other hand to align his cock with your entrance.

“You’ll tell me if it’s too much?” He asks after a second, and you nod frantically, squeezing his hand and daring him to even think about stopping.

“So good for me.” He whispers against your cheek and then his cock is pressed intimately against your entrance.

He stretches you, and opens you up even further until he’s fit snugly inside of you, filling you so much that you’re not sure how you can breathe with the intrusion.

His nose brushes yours affectionately.

“How do you feel?” He asks, as if you’re capable of assembling any semblance of thought.

Your lips part, you suck in a deep breath, the very first, with his cock pressed deep inside of you.

He waits patiently for the answer.

“Good,” You breathe, “So good, Billy oh my god.” You express.

He gives a sweet little smile that manages to get you even more aroused.

“I’m glad to hear it. Ready for the rest?”

The-?

“What?” You ask obtusely.

“My cock, sweetheart, would you like the rest of it?”

You try to raise your head for some type of explanation but you don’t get very far with his body pinned against yours. His eyebrows draw together at your shocked expression.

“There’s more of you?” You whisper in astonishment.

The corner of his mouth quirks up, and suddenly he’s laughing, burying his face in your neck and chuckling away as if his cock isn’t the largest thing you’ve ever tried to take.

His laughter is sweet though, soft and lyrical and you can’t help clenching on his cock, and hearing his laughter turn into a groan, squeezing your linked fingers.

“Yes,” He gasps, lost in the tight grip of your cunt, “Yes, there’s more of me.”

Your eyes are wide, a little afraid, anchoring yourself to him in hopes that he helps you through your fear.

“Take a big breath for me sweetheart.” he guides, with a steady, calm voice, nodding his head as you accept his guidance.

“And out.”

You do as he says, and shudder with pleasure as your body relaxes fully, you feel him slide deeper, eyelids fluttering as you discover more and more of him.

Finally, when his hips are pressed squarely to yours, and his cock fills you beyond what you thought you were capable of, does he finally say your name on a heated gasp.

You cup his cheek, thumb grazing over his rough stubble, he closes his eyes and presses his cheek to your palm and withdraws a little.

The first rock of his hips takes your breath away on a frantic sound. You hear him grunt in response, grinding his hips against yours, not moving too much but easily working into you.

“Billy.” You sob, legs tightening around his hips, one hand still linked with his.

He leans down, seals his mouth over yours, rocks into you in slow, lilting movements. You hum against his mouth, feels his body all around you, deep inside of you, holding you hostage and protecting you from everything except himself.

“You take me so well.” He grunts, his hot breath on your lips.

His mouth trails over your cheek, he kisses sweetly at your neck and shoulders.

His pace increases, his delectable body over yours, giving you pleasure that you barely understand.

His hand releases yours for a moment, only to grip both your wrists and pin them above your head, held firm in one large hand.

His grip on your wrist hurts a little, only adds to the pleasure of him fucking you.

He can’t stop kissing you, delving his tongue past your lips and exploring your mouth while he claims your body, hips rocking faster and faster into you the more time goes by.

He reaches a depth inside of you that you’ve never felt before, fills you with himself until you’re sure you’re the most whole you’ve ever been.

His cock pumps into you, your cunt is pulsing, sending large waves of immeasurable pleasure up your spine to fill your head. You feel your thighs tremble as the euphoria makes it all the way to your toes.

He keeps that pace, probably noticing the mindless state of you, your inability to form a single word, or produce a sound that isn't a breathless moan. You feel his influence on you in the farthest reaches of your mind, giving you more pleasure than your body can handle.

Finally, the pleasure sweetened even further, and Billy, in tune with your body, speeds the rhythm of his thrusts to match your needs. You gasp, barely able to find the thoughts, your body overflowing with absolute ecstasy and you’re almost afraid of what falling over the edge with him will feel like.

“Good,” He growls lowly into your ear, a sound you’ve never heard before, untamed, unhinged, and he’s using it to give you praise.

“So good for me.”

Your orgasm is involuntary. It’s not yours, only a response written by your body to answer his call. The sheer violence of your bliss takes your breath away, you feel your cunt clench hard around his cock, trapping him securely in place as wave after wave of pleasure ripples through you.

Vaguely, you’re aware of him groaning, but you don’t have the headspace to focus at the very moment. Your arms pinned above your head, his lips kissing at your face and neck, bare nipples grazing his chest and his cock stretching you wide.

Your cunt spasms, your body trembles, and trembles even more when he resumes his fucking, not even waiting for your first orgasm to fully subside before he’s trying to throw you right into the throes of another.

He’s harsher now, and you love it, your body revelling in the way he seems to lose control. He raises his head, you look deeply into his dark eyes. You can’t see much thought behind his eyes either, and you become acutely aware that you might be lost inside each other.

It only makes you that more desperate for him.

There’s no such thing as control anymore.

Billy’s lost any semblance of it, any memory of what it was like to be sane.

He has lost his old self, and he has found you.

All he wants now is to keep you like this, open and vulnerable on his cock for the foreseeable future. Your skin hot with bliss, little sweet cries filling his head.

He leans down, runs his tongue over the top of your breast, hears you gasp, loves the dirty way you love these things, appreciates the salty taste of your skin.

The predator in his head is synced up with him, both aspects of himself agreeing that this is where he belongs, balls deep in his mate, feeling her take everything he has to give.

He feels a completeness, that he can give you pleasure so easily, like his body was made just for you, to please you in every way possible.

He groans again, his voice beyond his control, hoping the low grovel of it doesn’t scare you, but even that makes your cunt squeeze him in satisfaction.

Yours.

He was yours.

He would only ever be yours.

He adjusts the angle of his hips, and he watches your lips tremble and your eyes water when his cock kisses a very sensitive spot inside of you.

You blubber mindlessly, sharp breaths and trembling thighs and you open up to Billy and you take everything he has to give.

You cum with a sharp cry. Eyes squeezed shut, body trembling as you try to process the bliss.

His hot breath on your skin, hips speeding up and suddenly a low grunt escapes him.

You feel his cock pulsing against your hypersensitive walls, you feel his cum, filling up the deepest spots of you and you can’t help the rightness of it.

Eventually, he releases your wrists, still deep inside of you, he braces his weight on his arms so that he doesn’t crush you.

After a moment, his arms wrap around you, adjusting you slowly so that your body rests on his, head on his chest, his cock still buried to the hilt inside of you.

He tries to make you comfortable, the biological urge for him to stay inside of you for as long as possible is something he’s never experienced before and he doesn’t know exactly how to control it.

He sighs, his orgasm still going through him, still filling you up though he doubts you can feel such subtle movements.

You burrow into him, and he hums in amusement, arms wrapping around your form, his heart pounding in his chest at how close you are.

“Did I hurt you?” He asks, checking in, fingers absentmindedly reaching for the edges of your hair.

“Wrist.” You say groggily, raising your left hand to his face.

“Fuck.” He voices, his eyes landing on the subtle bruises marking your wrist, he can make out the print of his fingers where he’d curled them to grip you tightly.

“Why didn’t you say something?” He asks, pain spearing his chest at the very idea that he’d hurt you. He holds your forearm gently, examining the faint bruising.

“Loved it.” You reply simply, he can hear the sleepy inflections in your voice.

He’d hurt you… and you’d loved it?

He makes a mental note to get some ice for your wrist, and to check it in the morning to make sure it’s doing better.

Now, he places a gentle kiss to the little bruise, feeling the abnormal heat of it on his lips.

“I’m so sorry.” He says to you.

You hum.

“Loved it.” You repeat.

"How is that? Is that better?" Billy asks, a little towel wrapped around a bag ice cubes pressed to your wrist.

You hum lazily, peeking an eye open to look up at him. You’re on your side, facing him, your left hand between you, bent to be in a more comfortable position.

“Doesn’t hurt.” You mumble, feeling sleep wrap itself carefully around your sated body. Your cunt is sore, quivering still from his use.

“Just a little uncomfy.” You try to explain.

He looks extremely concerned for a brief moment.

“I’m really sorry,” He tries to apologise for the fifth time.

You smile, shuffling your body closer to his, watching him focus on trying to keep his makeshift ice pack on your wrist. You kick a leg over his hip, not liking that he’d taken the time to put his boxers back on after he’d slipped from you earlier to grab the ice.

“Billy,” You murmur somberly, “I trust you, and if I really didn’t like it, I would have said something.”

“But I hurt you. Our first time together and I hurt you.” He says, his dark eyes so open and sad, hints of a frown turning down the corners of his lips.

You smile, your other hand rubbing his bicep and shoulder affectionately.

“I loved every second of it.” You whisper, unable to keep your mind conscious for a second more. You blink slowly, leaning into his body even more, heaving in a great big sigh.

“Please don’t leave.” You ask, as you tumble into unconsciousness.

He leans in, kissing the top of your head, and then your cold wrist, finally understanding that in your eyes, you don’t blame him.

His sweet girl, happy and asleep in his arms.

“I’m not going anywhere.” He whispers, curling around you, the panther purring inside of him as he falls asleep beside you.

His eyes flutter open when his phone vibrates on your bedside table. He’d pulled it out of his pants pocket and dropped it there on his way to get you ice.

You’ve crawled your way mostly onto his body, your head resting securely on his shoulder, he somehow still manages to be holding the melted ice pack on your wrist that rests on his chest, though he’s not sure if it even makes much of a difference right now.

He’s groggy, not sure if he’s ever been that deeply asleep before, absolutely comfortable, the very right temperature, the scent of strawberries wrapped around him.

He drops the towel- wrapped ice pack onto the floor beside the bed, rubbing his eyes as his phone continues to vibrate.

He reaches for it, pauses for a moment when his movement jostles you. He holds you tight as his fingers wrap around his phone.

He swallows, squints, slides to answer, keeping his voice soft so that he doesn’t wake you.

“Russo.” He answers automatically.

“Bill.” Frank says, and it’s all Billy needs to understand that something is very wrong.

“What is it?” Billy asks, “What happened?”

“My boy’s missing.” Frank responds.

You shiver with the cold, tugging your blanket up and over your shoulder and letting out a sigh.

In your sleepy state, the memory of last night comes back to you.

You smile, extending a hand out to reach for the warm body that had been nearby when you’d fallen asleep last night.

“Billy?” You grumble out, when your hand meets nothing but soft pillows.

No answer.

God, you think, if he left this time I am never going to speak to him again.

You peek an eye open, sighing when there is no deliciously gorgeous man lying mostly naked beside you.

A groan slips past your lips, you extend your body out, stretching this way and that and huffing when you accidentally kick one of your pillows off of your bed.

You weren’t going to let your hope plummet just yet, maybe he was just in the bathroom, or the kitchen, maybe he was whipping you up a cup of coffee right now.

You say his name louder this time.

After a moment of no response, you climb out of bed, searching for him, finding your apartment empty of him.

You stand in your living room, trying to reason with yourself, trying to find answers for questions that you could barely formulate.

Was this going to be like the movies? When you’d just lost hope, he would pop in with a breakfast bagel and a latte and apologise for leaving you?

You swallow, going back to find your phone and dialling his number.

Voicemail.

Your throat tightens.

Surely he hadn’t made you sweet promises last night only to break them?

When your second attempt at calling him has the same outcome, your mind spins to a final conclusion.

He’d left you.

Again.

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