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iamasaddie · 2 months ago

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AN HONEST MISTAKE

Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: swiping left and right on tinder, you think you match with Joel Miller, a handsome single dad in his late 30s. Feeling enamored and horny you decide to meet in person, only to be met with an almost completely different person. warnings: darkfic, dub-con eliments due to alcohol intoxication, gaslighting, very big age gap [Joel is 61], switching POVs, explicit sexual content. Some tags are not added to avoid spoilers, dm me if you need the full list. reader description: afab she/her, has hair long enough to be pulled; has boobs and ass; reader mid to late 20s-early 30s. word count: 6,2k

a/n: thank you for all of the excitement and interest you'd shown to this idea, i have been working on it for some time and i'm finally happy to show you part one. huge thanks to @arcanefox207 , Ally helped me to polish this chapter and shown me a lot of support which i truly appreciate <3 READ ON AO3

MASTERLIST | part 2

Dating wasn’t fun. It always felt like an inescapable chore for you, and you tried to avoid it at all costs. Hiding your face in your morning cup of tea when attacked by your mom’s questions, her voice distorted by poor video connection. Joking only to avoid the topic of boyfriends and girlfriends when your friend kept nagging you about it. Losing yourself in an unsatisfactory myriad of hands that belonged to faceless people when the nights got too cold for empty sheets.

You looked at your table, a small hand-made sign read “do better” in your own handwriting. And that was exactly what you were going to do. You were going to kill not two, but three birds with one stone, and that stone was going to be going on a date. A real, proper date, with excruciatingly predictable questions and awkward first touches. And you were going to have fun.

On the fourth hour of swiping Tinder, you were a breath away from ghosting everyone you knew and hiding in the Peruvian Amazonia for the rest of your life. The few conversations that you managed to have quickly died out when the person you talked to learned what you were there for. A month ago you’d find a pretty face and invite them over to smoke and have some fun, but that wasn’t a great start for an actual relationship. No, your fuckgirl days were over, so you went back to swiping.

And that was when you saw him.

Joel M., 39 Southern gentleman with a beautiful daughter. Work in construction, so I can build you a house. I am looking for a real connection, please, respect that.

God, he was handsome. Your mouth started salivating as you swiped through his pictures. He was broad, tall and had a tool in his hand. Not the one you immediately started wondering about, but it looked like at least he didn’t lie in his description. Feeling like a complete creep, you screenshotted his profile. If you weren’t a match, at least you’d have someone pretty to think about before going to bed tonight.

Gently, as if afraid, you swiped right. Your screen lit up, and so did your face, you gave a wide grin to your phone. “It’s a match!”

He was too good to be true. A gentleman, he didn’t lie there. Joel gave you the exact amount of attention to make you run towards your phone whenever it rang. It was definitely nothing like you expected. He was attentive, remembering what you said and when, never shied away from your questions, and on top of that he was devastatingly hot.

You heard a blip of a new message and unlocked your phone, a smile already plastered on your face like a Pavlovian reaction.

[Joel M.]: I was thinking, we seem to have a nice connection here, don’t we? [You]: I think so, too. A little unbelievable, but I am feeling hopeful. [Joel M.]: Unbelievable how?[You]: Unbelievable that no one snatched you up earlier. From where I am sitting, you look like a full package. [Joel M.]: Well, you’re sitting awfully far away, so I see how it looks like that. Why don’t we meet in person and find out if you still think the same, darlin? [You]: Joel, are you inviting me on a date? [Joel M.]: Only if you’re accepting. How about a dinner at my place? I am a pretty decent cook.

Your hand hovered above the screen. It wasn’t smart, going to a man’s place for your first date. He could be a creep, he could be a murderer… But then again, you could never brag about your self preservation instincts, sometimes you just thought with a little kitty purring between your legs.

You tapped on his profile again, looking at the zoomed in picture of his face. His brown eyes looked sad, but kind. A half-smile tugged on his soft-looking lips. Just a few sprinkles of salt and pepper in his hair. Even if he turned out to be a creep, you’d never had such a handsome lay before, and you were planning to check all of his tools as soon as you could, you thought to yourself before typing your reply.

[You]: I’d love that. Send me the address?

You weren’t worried, not really. You never struggled with too low of self-esteem. You knew your strong suits, and you wore them like armor. The upcoming date sent a pleasant shiver down your back, anticipation made you giggle into the void of your lonely apartment. The closer the day came, the giddier you became.

So on the fateful night you had enough confidence to pick out the dress that was a bit uncomfortable but looked gorgeous on your body. You smacked some lipstick that complemented the shade of your skin, grabbed a small purse and a bottle of wine and winked at your reflection in the mirror. You looked good, you felt even better.

August kept tricking you with its weather, the days still suffocated you with heat while the nights were unpleasantly chilly. You hugged your naked shoulders and rubbed your skin in an attempt to warm up as you waited for your Uber to arrive.

You got inside the white Honda Civic, the smell of cigarettes unpleasantly soaked into the seats so you opened up the window praying that it wouldn’t stink up your dress. The driver acknowledged you with a small grunt and a nod, you did the same, not willing to start a conversation. The estimated forty minutes dragged out and became an hour in the man’s GPS, of course you got stuck in traffic it was just your luck. And on your way to a literal dream man, no less.

Your kitten heel kept tapping on the car floor, the annoyed-looking driver gave you a stern look in the rear view mirror that you completely ignored. You needed to warn Joel that you were going to be late, and it made you want to grind your teeth. You hated being late, be that a party, a dentist appointment or a walk in the park with a friend. It made you feel guilty, leaving your palms sticky with cold sweat. You clearly weren’t going to make a good first impression, and with the way you chewed your lip bloody, you might not even get a kiss. You looked at the picture of him you shamelessly saved to your camera roll. Out of the two of you, you were definitely winning the creep competition, while he was just a dream come true.

You zoomed in on his face, your thumb caressed the pixels of his skin. There were smile lines around his lips, and you wondered what made him laugh so hard throughout his life that the remnants of the gesture permanently cut themself into his skin. Joel’s eyes were gleaming with youthful mischief, something you’d thought a person loses after having a child, but he clearly proved you wrong. Sun made his brown look like amber, adding to the overall handsomeness of the man. You imagined yourself next to him – yes, it was way too early, but you couldn’t keep your mind from wandering – he’d be taller, bigger than you, his strong hand on your lower back as you walk through the city. The eyes of men and women hungry to have what’s yours, but he’d only look at you. Yes, he was a bit older, but still young enough to have you on his arm without dealing with accusatory stares and venomous whispers behind your back.

A loud honking from the car behind you made you jump in your seat. The line of cars finally started moving and it brought a sense of relief to you. You had 20 more minutes, maybe you were still going to make it.

The sound of your heels kissing the pavement echoed like gunfire through the neighborhood. When your taxi left you at the needed address, you looked around. It wasn’t too late, the small houses still looked alive with yellow lights and muffled voices. You took a deep breath, straightened your back and looked in front of yourself, examining the location.

From the outside, Joel’s house looked nice. Nothing too fancy, the white paint a bit chapped, but the porch looked recently freshened up. A sturdy looking rocking chair covered with a blanket and a pillow gave the place a cozy feeling. His lawn was perfectly trimmed, and you imagined watching him mow it from that same porch with an iced tea in your hand. He’d be sweaty and shirtless, you’d drag him inside to fuck before he finished even a third of the territory. You clenched your thighs, a small pool of wetness gathering in your thongs. You better keep that thought away or you’d jump the poor man’s bones before he had the chance to say hello.

You checked your phone, 8:27 PM. Not too late, even acceptable in some countries, you tried to cheer yourself on. You hoped he wasn’t as insane about being late as you were or here went your first date in years. Gently, you tapped on the wooden door, the sound of someone approaching from the other side made you squeeze the bottle neck harder.

When the door flew open, you stretched out the hand holding the wine and fired out an apology in the most comical way you could, your eyes tightly shut.

“I’m so sorry I’m late, the traffic was horrendous. I promise I am usually never late, ever.” When no reply followed, you opened your eyes, a smile still tugging on your lips as you took in the man in front of you. It was both Joel and not. With your hand still outstretched, your mouth dropped with a hundred different questions, but you only managed to ask one. “Joel?”

“Hello, darlin’.”

“Is this some kind of a joke? Are you his dad or something?”

The man in front of you was not in his late thirties, hell, he wasn’t even in his late forties! The Joel that was staring at you looked pretty old, mid-fifties at least, you thought to yourself. His hair was mostly salt, no pepper in sight. It was inches longer than in the picture, soft-looking, it curled at the bottom. He was as tall and broad as you imagined, and it did give a little pang to your core that you quickly shut off. His face was ridden in wrinkles, prominent crows feet near his eyes that were still sad, still brown. You had half a thought to turn around and order yourself an Uber home, but the bewildered look on his face made you stop where you were.

“Darlin’, I know what’s going through your head right now, because I promise I didn’t expect you to be this young either! It must’ve been Sarah, my baby girl. She set up this thing, said she was tired of seeing her old man sad an’ miserable. Guess she didn’t think I was mighty attractive anymore.” He says with a self-deprecating chuckle. “She just straight up told me today that a nice woman would come over for a dinner, said she’d be here too, and if I loved her I had better prepared my nicest shirt an’ all. Christ, what was that girl thinking?”

You caught yourself feeling bad for the man, your heart clenching. He was still definitely handsome. His stomach was slightly more prominent and his was shirt hugging him tightly in the middle. His hand that tucked a little white strand of hair behind his ear matched his face in little sun spots, skin that had been kissed by the burning star for longer than you’d been alive. But he still got it, in a silver fox kind of way. Poor man, put into such an embarrassing situation by his own daughter. Being willingly childfree had never looked more appealing to you.

“You came all the way here just to be disappointed, I can’t tell you how-“

“I’m not disappointed,” you interrupted him quickly and stepped forward, an unknown force drove your hand to squeeze his forearm in a reassuring gesture. His eyes dropped when your manicured nails dug into his ironed flannel. “Just surprised, but that’s not a bad thing. We both unknowingly catfished each other.”

“Catfish? Ain’t that a type of fish?”

“No,” you laughed lightheartedly, the man was adorable. The cold breeze picked up, and you were reminded that you were still on the porch, if any neighbors were out they were definitely getting a fresh batch of gossip to discuss before sleep. “It’s when you… You know what, no matter, it’s not important.”

Joel looked hesitant, his jaw ticked and you noticed him look you up and down before swallowing hard. Was he blushing?

“I want to make it up to you before you go. I made us a nice dinner when I thought you were umm… age appropriate,” Joel tightened his lips and gave you an apologetic smile. “It ain’t catfish, just a steak, but I swear on my mama, it’s good.”

Before you could respond, your stomach growled making the decision for you. Your hand jumped to it, fisting the material of your dress as if trying to silence the embarrassing sound.

“Well, I don’t see any harm in that,” you smiled, accepting Joel’s invitation. The man looked harmless and you didn’t want to leave him sad and miserable, it seemed like he felt guilty enough. “It was quite a long drive.” Maybe it all could become a funny story you both would tell your friends. Separately.

He stepped aside and you waltzed inside his house. It was big enough to still be cozy without making you feel trapped. The warm light made everything look safe and homey, hardwood floor creaked gently under your footsteps. The door lock clicked behind you and you turned around.

Joel was looking at you, a more confident smile now stretching his lips. The soft lighting took a few years off his face, and once again you noted that the man aged like a fine wine. That reminded you of the bottle you were still tightly gripping in your hand, and you stretched it out to Joel for the second time that night. He accepted with a muttered ‘thank you’.

“Feel at home, sweetheart, I’ll just grab something real quick.” Joel pointed towards his kitchen, the space was open, luring you in with a mouth-watering smell.

You felt awkward walking around a stranger’s house, but followed his instructions.

You didn’t see the way his eyes lingered on the exposed skin of the back of your thighs, his tongue flicking over his lower lip in anticipation.

He disappeared further into the hallway, and you made your way towards the dining table.

Alone, you took the opportunity to study the place you were allowed in. Unfortunately, it wasn’t very unique, or maybe you were just a shitty detective. Joel’s kitchen that spilled out into a dining room was disappointingly ordinary. Walls painted a soft yellow; polished doors of wooden cupboards and kitchen cabinets that looked old but taken care of; a four-person dining table that was now set with a few plates, simple utensils, napkins and wine glasses. You narrowed your eyes trying to see the pictures that were stuck to the fridge with small butterfly magnets. Your long ride and empty stomach must’ve taken a toll on your eyesight so you could barely make out Joel in those. There was a picture of him with another man, and… You leaned over the table as if trying to get closer, to see better.

“You know, you can just come closer to the fridge.” Joel’s chuckle made you jump in your seat.

“Sorry, I was just,” the right explanation failed you, and you surrendered. “I was just being nosy.”

“Didn’t catch you going through my drawers, so no harm. Can’t really snoop if it’s out there to see, right?” Joel set the opened bottle of the wine you’d brought on the table and waved a bottle opener in his right hand. “Haven’t had wine in some time so had to go look for this guy,” he explained.

“Whatever you made, it smells delicious,” you smiled at him. The sucking feeling in your stomach became uncomfortable, and you cursed at yourself internally for skipping lunch.

“Well then, let’s get some of it in you, shall we?”

Joel seemed way more relaxed, maybe your agreement to spend time with him made him feel less guilty for his daughter’s actions; or maybe it was the confidence of being a host. Either way, it looked good on him.

You didn’t stop your eye from wandering over his frame while he looked away, putting food on your plates. His dark green shirt was snug around his broad shoulders, the soft-looking material translated the feeling of warmth and comfort you lacked in your dress. He had blue jeans on, and you felt your cheeks heat up when you noticed a firm ass hidden behind the rough fabric. Your hand left the table, and you tugged at your bottom lip absent-mindlessly. What was twenty more years? He turned around and since your eyes hadn't moved, you were now shamelessly staring at his crotch. The jeans did not hide much.

You snapped your face up immediately at Joel’s quiet cough. There was a barely hidden smirk on his face, so you decided that no harm was done. So what if you gave the man a quiet compliment? You’d been doing that for the last two weeks, even though apparently his daughter was the one responding to them. You could spare some flirting for the poor guy, he looked like he enjoyed a bit of your harmless attention.

He didn’t lie, he was a decent cook. The meat melted on your tongue and the wine you brought complimented it nicely. You didn’t notice the way your glass was always full, Joel’s stories from the past kept you too entranced.

Heat was creeping up your chest, settling in your cheeks and you moved the wine glass away. You could tolerate a full bottle without being visibly affected, not your proudest trick but it was what it was. Yet, now you felt like you’d emptied at least a couple of bottles on an empty stomach, even though the bottle on the table proved otherwise. You felt dizzy, but not in a bad way, just more relaxed than you were planning to be. Joel looked more handsome every minute, his syrupy thick voice lulled you into a trance-like headspace.

“Can’t lie, you look mighty pretty, darlin’. Had I been thirty years younger it’d be hard to keep my hands to myself.”

Wine dimmed your instincts, so you just giggled. Joel’s eyes darkened as he tripped his gaze from your face to your bust, your breasts straining against the silk fabric of your dress. You noticed him looking and cleared your throat, tits jiggling slightly.

“Forgive an old man, sweetheart?” There was nothing sorry about his tone, but it slipped your mind completely, your guard almost all the way down. “As I said, haven't had a pretty thing like you here in ages.”

You tried to study his face, your brain foggy as you struggled to figure him out. “You compliment like a man deep in the dating pool,” you smirked, “makes it hard to believe it’s all an accident. Maybe you actually lured me in here

intentionally?” You raised your eyebrows, but couldn’t handle your own silly accusation, breaking down in giggles.

“Don’t worry, darlin’, this old dog is all bark no bite.” His smile looked sincere, kind laughter leaving his wet lips and he gave you a wink.

“You’re not that old,” your voice dragged the words out like you wanted to convince yourself more than him. You felt hot all over and you weren’t sure if it was the result of the wine you drank.

“You’re too kind, sweetheart, no need to spare my feelings. My prime is long behind the horizon.”

“No, you’re actually very handsome,” you didn’t lie, anyone with a good working set of eyes would see his attractiveness, and you had two weeks to cement it in your brain. “You have a very nice smile, and your hands,” your eyes dropped on the table where a giant fist was curled around his fork. “A lot of women appreciate a good set of hands.”

“Learned to work with them pretty well, too.” Joel nodded and smirked. “Leaking faucets, clogged drainage. Can fix it all.”

In your mind that phrase sounded naughtier than you were sure the man intended it to, and you reprimanded yourself, feeling a different kind of heat rise from your belly. With one swift movement you’ve emptied what was left in your glass of wine, forgetting about your need to somehow get home after dinner. Joel only poured some more in your glass, smiling softly.

He learned the dance moves long ago. Pretty birds like you were comfortably predictable, and even though you oozed a different kind of odor, he knew exactly what to say. He watched you sip your wine with ease, his own glass barely touched on the table.

When the last piece of salad was cleaned off your plate, you felt a pleasant fullness in your belly. Your head was heavy in a sleepy kind of way, and you looked around, trying to find something to hold your attention on. Your eyes skimmed the living room, from where you were sitting you could see an old couch, in some spots it was now more beige than brown, its big cushions looked soft and the blue quilt draped over the back of it was calling your name.

There was a guitar leaning against one of the armrests and you moved your eyes back at Joel who was silently studying you.

“You play that?” You blindly pointed your thumb towards the strategically placed instrument and Joel curtly nodded.

“I pluck the strings, sometimes something bearable comes out.” He joked, the apples of his cheeks saturated with color and you reached your hand to take his

and gently squeezed it. Joel’s skin turned out to be warm and dry, the sensation of giving him such an innocent touch tingled on your fingertips.

“I noticed you tend to undersell yourself. Would you play something for me?” You didn’t want to leave yet, and your empty plate didn’t really leave you a reason to stay. You tilted your head to the right and gave Joel a sweet smile, hoping he’d succumb to your charm. He didn’t wait long before returning the soft gesture. Slowly, he got off his seat. His figure loomed above you for a quiet moment before he outstretched his palm.

“I’d never be able to refuse you,” he admitted. Your hand drowned in his and he tugged you up. You almost crushed into his broad chest, but to your own dismay he took a step back. Your insides throbbed, the smell of his cologne mixed with his own odor awoke every single receptor on your skin.

“Do you like old stuff?”

“I’m still here,” you quipped and shrugged your shoulders innocently. Joel stopped, making sure you saw him roll his eyes in fake annoyance. He couldn’t contain the breathy laugh, though, so you knew he got your joke.

You moved towards the couch, while Joel walked a step behind you, enjoying the view of your ass in a skin tight dress. The outline of your thongs was visible to him, and he smiled to himself, maybe you weren’t as innocent as you pretended to be. Joel bit the inside of his cheek to refrain from any comments.

His hand hugged the neck of the guitar confidently, while you made yourself comfortable on the couch.

“I think I know just the thing.”

Your eyes never left his fingers as he started to hum an unfamiliar melody.

His voice lulled you in, deep vibrations as he plucked the strings reverberated in your chest. You felt so warm inside, the heat that was pooling in the depth of your belly rose and touched your chest, neck, the tips of your fingers. The dress clung to your skin unpleasantly and for a moment you wished you could take it off. Was it so wrong?

Your eyes traced Joel’s face, the sharp angle of his nose, the tip of it twitching as he sang gently. His lips caressed the words with a tenderness of a lover and you wondered when was the last time they did the same to a woman. Your thighs tightened as your body already knew something your mind only danced around. You shifted in your seat, moving closer to Joel, letting your knees touch.His eyes found yours, a question burning in his browns. You shrugged your shoulders and gave him a small smile, he smiled back. The melody continued, his warm timbre embracing the words.

Maybe tomorrow, honey, Some place down the line, I’ll wake up older So much older, mama, I’ll wake up older, and I’ll just stop all my trying

Your fingers drew patterns on your dress, nails picking at the seam with nervousness. The fire in the center of you gave you confidence to follow through, and your hand ended up on Joel’s knee, slowly moving up until your pinky touched the wood of his guitar. The melody didn’t falter, but his voice did.

“Whatcha doin’, sweetheart?”

“It is a date, isn’t it?” The shreds of your confidence only allowed you to squeeze his thigh with a hint, yet your eyes looked anywhere but his face.

“You shouldn’t do something like that to an old man like me, will break my heart when you leave,” he sounded so painfully sad, it made your heart ache as bad as your pussy. You looked him in the eye then, god, he was so handsome.

“What if I don’t leave?” You challenged him like a mouse challenging a lion. Joel shook his head, his hand gripping the guitar’s neck viciously.

“Stop playing with me, darlin’.”

“What if I’m not playing?”

You expected another sad plea, another crack in his voice. But instead, he put his guitar to the side and spread his legs wider than before. “Then prove it.” He husked out. “Prove that you know what you’re doing.”

There was no mistake in what he meant. His voice added a new depth into it, eyes glowed with something dark. Passion, you thought. Need. The one that was pushing you to your knees at that same moment. The one that numbed your skin when your bones hit the hardwood floor between his spread thighs. The one that guided your hands to his zipper before you could even steal a kiss off his tantalizing lips.

He was hot underneath his clothes, his skin was burning like he had a fever and you were almost too impatient to be gentle. Joel lifted his hips just enough to help you tug his jeans down, his grey cotton boxers followed. He watched you intently, and you watched his half-hard cock lay heavily on his full balls. They were hanging low, their size intimidating. But no more intimidating than the main course.

You weren’t offended that he wasn’t fully hard yet, still, Joel took you by the chin and made you look at him. “Sorry, darlin’, you’re the prettiest girl I’ve seen in a long time, but at my age, it’s just not enough anymore.”

You nodded, your mouth flooding with saliva at the thought of him growing under your tongue. He was thick, veiny, more veiny than the dicks you’d seen

before so you thought it was an age thing, however the vines surrounding his shaft only made you whimper harder, thighs squelching with your arousal.

You leaned forward, inhaling full lungs of him. It was heady, strong, and made you dizzier than all the wine you drank. You reached your hand out with the intent of touching his cock, but Joel stopped you.

“Touch yourself.” For the first time you heard something dark in his melody. Commanding.

“What?” You were confused. Did he want you to just play with yourself? Because you were on the verge of bursting if he didn’t let you get closer to his cock.

“Put your little hand in your panties and slick it up with all the sweet juices that have been leaking out of you since the moment you saw me, darlin’.” Your mouth fell open, hand following his order under Joel’s dominant gaze. “Then you can wrap it around my dick, and prove to me that you really want this.”

It was so easy to just do what he said, without questioning the moral, the consequences. Your hand was wet with your arousal, pussy begging to keep it

there, to give some attention to your clit, but your mind was set on the man before you.

He hissed when you wrapped your slick hand around his shaft and started jerking it slowly, feeling the girth of him thrum with growing desire. You looked at his cock, entranced. His shaft was shining with your own juices, a pink head became deeper in color as more blood rushed to his cock. You swiped your thumb over it, a tiny drop of precum glistening in his slit.

“You’re doin’ such a good job, angel.” Joel’s hoarse voice was almost a whisper. You felt the steam coming from him, it made you sweat, your breath hitching. “Why don’t you put that mouth to use, hm, darlin’? You speak awful lot with it.”

It almost made you giggle, a plan forming in your head. Instead of letting his cock in the scorching wetness of your mouth, your head dropped lower. You

stuck your tongue out, lathering his heavy balls in your saliva. They were fuzzy, like a ripe peach, and you massaged them with the wet muscle.

“Fuck, ain’t nothing angelic about you, huh?” Joel’s voice was barely recognizable, hungry and low it vibrated in your pussy. You opened your mouth wider, sucking his balls in turn. “That’s right, making me feel so good, sucking on my balls like that. Come on, baby, use your tongue.”

You tried to alternate between licking and sucking on his ballsack, your spit drooling over your chin while you were panting like a rabid dog. The only thing that mocked your ladylikeness was your goddamn dress, and it was almost drenched in your own slick at this point.

“Good girl, sucking on my balls like it’s what you came here for. Came here to make an old man cum? What a perverted little girl you are, sweetheart.” Your pussy tingled with your praise. The mouth on him made your head spin, like a newfound drug that affected only you he seeped under your skin making you pant and moan as you continued pleasuring him. Your hand jerked his thick cock in tandem with your mouth on his balls. Joel’s eyes never left you, as he continued praising you. “Mmhm, that’s good, drench ‘em, fuck you’re a dirty one.”

You felt his hand at the back of your head as it pressed you harder into him, your nose was forced into his perineum and he almost humped your face with his groin. Your tongue hung out, and he managed to slide his balls across it before it almost went too low. The tip of your tongue almost touching his puckered hole covered in more hair.

“Not today,” you heard him grumble before tugging you up. “Come on, darlin’, don’t make me waste a load.” He pushed on your cheeks with his hand, feeding you his cock in one movement. It was a lot to take, your teeth barely scraping his shaft, and you used your tongue to protect the underside. “Take it all, come on, darlin’, you’re the one who wanted it.”

Intoxication and arousal didn’t mix well, as you just moaned pathetically around him, letting him deeper in your throat. It bulged with the sheer size of his dick, you felt it, uncomfortable, but you couldn’t move, your body too heavy and tired. Instead, your hands found his wet balls, already tight and ready to blow every drop of cum he’d been saving for you. You tried to fit them in your hand, gently tugging at his sack to stimulate him further.

“Ready, sweetheart? I better not see you waste a drop.” His hips bucked, and your nose was pressed into the soft tuft of his grey pubes. Joel pressed your head into him harder as his hot load trickled down your throat. You tried to breathe through your nose, the lack of oxygen blackening your vision.

He pulled out seconds before you were ready to pass out.

“Gotta tap my leg or somethin’, sugar. I don’t need you dying with my cock still in your throat.” You chuckled, not sure why. Joel placed his hand on your cheek, his thumb tracing your lower lip, slippery with your saliva. His whisper sounded gentle, “God, you’re a mess. Beautiful.”

You didn’t trust your throat to work, so instead, you tried to get up on your trembling legs. Your pussy still screamed for release, so wet you could feel your arousal escaping your thongs and dripping down your leg. You hiked the skirt of your dress up, not an ounce of shame inside, and straddled Joel.

“Whoa, darlin’, slow down,” his hands dropped to your hips, keeping you in place. Your brows furrowed. He didn’t look like a man who’d let a lady down. “Why don’t we change our location?”

You didn’t get an opportunity to look around, your feet scrambling as he tugged you into a dark room. His pants were up, but undone, and you lost your heels somewhere along the way, your dress still hiked up like a common whore.

Everything was spinning, so when he dropped on the bed at first you thought he fell. His voice was navigating you through the darkness, but you could barely concentrate on it.

“Come here, angel, let this old man take care of your pretty pussy.” Joel smacked his lips, and guided you to climb on top of him, legs on each side of his body until your pussy hovered over his face.

“Panties,” you whimpered and heard an immediate crack of fabric ripping.

“Sorry, darlin’, can’t make you wait any longer,” his face pressed into the side of your thigh, sticky with your own juices, and you whimpered pathetically at the texture of his scruff scratching your sensitive skin. “Smell so good, fresh, like a new doll.”

You couldn’t understand what he meant, you didn’t even try to. When his lips latched onto your clit, your head tilted back and you let out a loud moan. Joel only moaned back, the sound penetrating your pussy alongside his tongue.

His hands gripped your asscheeks painfully, forcing you to grind on his face. His tongue slipped in your wet hole, and you felt yourself shaking on top of him, your legs giving out as he kept fucking you with his tongue.

Joel growled in your skin, making you crawl to your orgasm faster and faster with every swipe of his tongue.

The tip of his nose kept hitting your sensitive clit, as he pushed his tongue further and further in your fluttering hole. He kissed his way up, pinching your clit between his tightly clasped lips and sucked, punching a cry out of you with his raw vigor.

“Come on, sugar,” he commanded, “I feel her cryin’, give her what she wants.”

With doubled passion he flickered his tongue over your throbbing bud, and you felt sweat trickling down your neck and soaking into your dress as an orgasm rushed over you.

Your body felt powerless, and if not for Joel’s strong hands still holding you up, you’d have fallen back. But he kept you somewhat steady, lapping up all that your wasted body could give him until every swipe of his tongue started being painful and you had physically push his face away with trembling hands.

“Got too enthusiastic, my bad. Ain’t every day I get to drink from a fountain of youth.” Joel joked, helping you settle next to him in his bed.

Your tired body was half laying on top of him, fully drained yet still unexplainably insatiable. Forced by something deep in the pit of your belly, you dragged your nails over his soft stomach until you touched his soft cock again. Joel quickly stopped you, grabbing your wrist and bringing your hand to his chest. You felt the sparse hairs on his nipple tickle your palm. His heartbeat was hard, but steady.

“Sorry, angel, ain’t that young anymore.” He said, kissing the crown of your head. His fingers found their way into your hair and he tugged at it gently. “If you want me to fuck that pretty hole of yours, you’ll just have to agree to a second date.”

Your words were slurred, eyelids too heavy to keep them open. “Maybe I will, old man.”

He chuckled, the grip of his fingers in your hair tightened as he looked in the distance. A couple of flickering street lamps visible from his window were providing minimum light in his room and a possessive smile creeped onto his lips as he listened to you snoring lightly into his chest.

You weren't the first mouse to get trapped so easily, but something told him you were special. He wasn't ready to discard you just yet.

LEAVE A COMMENT, YOUR FEEDBACK IS MY MOTIVATION <3

#catfish!joel #iamasaddie fic #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #dark fic #ppcu fanfiction #tlou fic

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navybrat817 · 2 months ago

Note

Miss Navy! What if the reader joined the thunderbolts and fooled around with Bucky?

Bahaha. I have a thot, nonnie.

Not Exactly a Secret

Pairing: Thunderbolts!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: You and Bucky are really good teammates... and more.

Word Count: Over 1.1k

Warnings: Kissing, implied smut, humor, team bonding (kind of), Thunderbolts spoilers, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Using this beautiful @nixakimbo edit for reasons (you know why if you've seen Thunderbolts!). ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

In hindsight, they all should've seen it coming.

You were the last to join the team and easy to get along with. You could roll with the punches and keep up with Alexei, put John in his place when he stepped out of line, sympathize with Bob, and have a blast with Yelena and Ava. Hell, you even congratulated Bucky on his six month stint as a Congressman and swore he made a difference. He admired your kindness. He admired you.

The team thought Bucky was just being extra welcoming since he always found an excuse to be around you. If you offered to cook for the team, he was beside you in the kitchen ready to help. If you wanted to spar, he dropped what he was doing to go to the training room. And if you suggested a movie night, he sat next to you with your favorite snacks ready to go and a blanket in case you got cold.

Everyone noticed that Bucky smiled more when you were around. He laughed more, too. Turned to you for advice and didn't mind staying up late to chat or exchange books. Your room also happened to be beside his and he spent a lot of time in there, more than a regular teammate should.

The recent movie night you snuggled against him and started to doze off. If anyone else had tried to snuggle with him there was a chance they'd lose a hand, but not you. “Mmm. You're so good to me, Bucky,” you said when he picked you up.

“You know me. Just being a good teammate,” he replied, holding you close the way a boyfriend would and not at all like a teammate.

Yeah, they should’ve seen it coming.

Bob stumbled upon you by accident. He had forgotten his hoodie in the common room after one of the movie nights and froze when he spotted you and Bucky making out on the couch. He stood there for a full minute torn because he wanted to get his hoodie back, but he didn't want to interrupt. He ultimately decided against it when Bucky pushed you back on the cushions. On top of his hoodie.

“I’ll just… I’ll get it tomorrow. And I’ll wash it. Yeah, yeah. I'll do that. It’s fine. Everything’s fine,” he mumbled as he went back to his room.

You were kind enough to wash it yourself the next day and offered to buy him a new one, but he declined. It was nice that you offered. And he was happy because he saw how happy you made Bucky.

Yelena caught the two of you in the training room. For a moment it looked like Bucky was trying a new move on you and she almost asked him to show her how it was done. Tilting her head after a few seconds, she realized what she was seeing wasn't a defense move at all. If there was any doubt, the grunt he let out and the moan you gave him in response when some clothes were moved aside told her very loud and clear what was happening. And it would've been rude to stay and watch.

“Oh, I'm not sparring on that mat again,” she muttered.

She did spar on it again after Bucky cleaned it twice.

Ava didn't catch the two of you doing anything. She phased in the kitchen one day while Bucky was eating and making a mess. The exasperated look on your face when you tossed him a paper towel was adorable, as was the smile you two exchanged. Bucky never looked that soft around anyone else.

“You eat pussy like that?” Ava asked to get a rise out of Bucky when another drop of sauce hit his shirt.

“Yeah, he does,” you said without skipping a beat.

Ava laughed, thinking it was a joke at first, before she caught Bucky staring you down and licking his lips. You bit your lip and Ava almost phased out of the room to give you two some privacy. You beat her to it by sauntering out of the room with a smirk, the super soldier hot on your tail and leaving his mess behind.

“Thank you for not using the counter since we eat here!” Ava called out after the two of you.

Bucky had you on the counter the next day so he could eat, too.

Alexei found the two of you in his limo tangled up in each other. You couldn't explain why you and Bucky decided to fool around in there, but you wanted to have some fun and the limo was there. And it was clean. The Red Guardian wasn't at all upset. In fact, he felt honored that the Winter Soldier wanted to have sex in his limo and blasted “Pony” to set the mood.

“That’s what I talk about!” he cheered before Yelena dragged him away.

She also decided then and there that she’d always ride in the front seat of the limo.

John was the last to know, which surprised no one. After a successful mission, he realized neither you nor Bucky had answered a question he asked. Whatever smartass comment he began died in his throat when Bucky unashamedly kissed you. There was nothing gentle or chaste about it. It was a deep, filthy kiss and he felt like a perv watching.

Bucky must've thought something similar since he gave John the finger all while he continued to kiss you and you gripped his hair.

“Are you guys…” John trailed off since the rest of the group didn't seem at all surprised by the display. “Wait, did everyone know? Was I the only one who didn't know?”

“Yes, dime store Captain America.” Ava rolled her eyes. “Everyone knew.”

Whether it was the insult of being the last to know, John looked offended. “Even Bobby? And since when did the two of them become a thing?”

Bucky broke the kiss to glare at the blonde. “Yeah, asshole, Bob knew,” he replied.

“And it wasn't really a secret. We just hadn't officially announced it,” you said, giggling when Bucky’s lips found yours again.

Apparently the display was the official announcement.

“I really did know,” Bob smiled before he cleared his throat. “I, uh, found them in the common room.”

“Training room,” Yelena said.

Ava nodded. “Kitchen.”

“Limo!” Alexei shouted, hitting his chest. “My limo.”

“Jesus Christ,” John muttered.

Bob shrugged. “I think they make a good couple.”

“Of course, you do,” Yelena said, a small smile forming on her face as you and Bucky carried on. “I think so, too.”

Yeah, lovelies. Loved the film. Not at all sorry. Catch more shenanigans with Game Nights. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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beargyu313 · 16 days ago

Text

We be outside 𓇼 𓂃 𓈒𓏸

Untie my leash, take off my mask, This world flips, turned into a bad love

⋆⭒˚.⋆Summary: what better way to meet your boyfriend’s friends than going on a trip with them, right?

Pairings: Sunghoon x you (couple), Niki x you (side piece),

⋆˚꩜｡WC: 17.2k (guess this is my new norm…) ⋆⭒˚｡CW: this story includes CHEATING/homie hopping, if this is something you don’t like then simply don’t read the story. Obviously, I don’t condone cheating irl and am hence using fiction to explore a fantasy…

𓂃 𓈒𓏸‪‪ Tags: Cheating, cockwarming, sexual tension, semi-public sex (Niki fucks you in the living room while everyone’s watching a movie), fingering (m!giving, f!receiving), sneaking around, heavy petting, teasing, talk of anal,, dick size comparison, marking, light choking, hair-pulling, size kink, praise kink, jealousy (from both lol), pussy licking, crying during sex

𓆉⋆.˚𓆟A/N: apologizes for not posting sooner, just been in a weird funk, reblogs and likes are as always appreciated<3 also next in the making is Jake with the trope of friends to lovers (After a tipsy kiss, you both agree to "see what happens" with strictly no feelings. (Spoiler: There are so many feelings.))

🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐

You watch Sunghoon wrestle a large silver suitcase out from under his bed, the corners bumping against the frame with a dull thud. His brows are drawn in concentration as he unzips it and starts mentally organizing stuff—socks, chargers, skin care.

You sit cross-legged on the floor beside him, back resting against the edge of the mattress, your phone glowing in your lap. You scroll idly until a notification catches your eye.

“Who’s ‘h1seungsgirl’?” you ask, squinting. “She just sent me a follow request.”

“Hmm?” Sunghoon doesn’t look up. He’s busy tucking his cologne into a small pouch. “Oh. That’s Heeseung’s girlfriend. She just joined the group chat.”

You tap into her profile, skimming. Her feed is warm-toned, curated, clean. Sun-kissed selfies, gym mirror shots, a laugh caught mid-frame. She’s pretty. Like... really pretty.

“Is she the one he met on twitch?” you ask, glancing over the phone at him.

“I think so.” He shrugs, casually. “She’s cool. You’ll probably like her.”

“Yeah, she seems sweet… Wait- Jay just added me too.” Your thumb flicks upward. “That’s…?”

“Jungwon’s boyfriend.” This time, he does glance at you, briefly. “You met him at that rooftop thing, right?”

“Oh, yeah. With the guitar,” you say, smiling faintly at the memory. “He was nice.”

“Mm. They’re inseparable. They’ll be in the other bungalow.”

“So it’s them, Heeseung and his girl... and us?”

Sunghoon pauses just long enough for you to notice. “Technically. Niki’s with us.”

You try to sound casual, try to keep your pulse steady.

“Right. Of course.” As if you hadn’t spent the last few nights spiraling down his Instagram, heart hammering at every pic he’s in, every grin, every blurry photo of him at a club (yes you also went through his tagged photos). (It’s not a big deal – you just like his aesthetic)

Sunghoon pauses, glances at you like he’s trying to remember something.

“You’ve met him before, haven’t you?” Sunghoon asks offhandedly, now folding a hoodie into a tight square.

“Once or twice,” you murmur. “Very briefly.”

A silence settles. It’s not tense, just familiar. You start to wonder if you’ve run through your daily word limit with him when he speaks again.

“He can be kinda weird with people he doesn’t know,” Sunghoon says, not looking at you. “Just ignore it if he’s awkward.”

You tilt your head. “Weird how?”

Another shrug. “I don’t know. He’s just... Niki.”

Your phone buzzes again, and this time it’s from the group chat — the one you were only added to yesterday. Seven unread messages. You scroll past a selfie from Heeseung’s girlfriend and some chaotic voice notes from Jungwon until you reach the newest one.

ki005__ ok but who’s driving with who tmr lol i’m not tryna get squeezed into jay’s clown car again

You snort softly, thumb hovering over your screen.

“Group chat’s already getting spammed” you say, glancing up at Sunghoon. “Niki just asked who’s riding with who.”

Sunghoon doesn’t pause in his packing. “He should just go with us.”

You tilt your head. “Do we have space?”

He zips the suitcase halfway and nods. “You don’t mind, do you?”

“No,” you say, a beat too quickly. Then you add, more casually, “Honestly, we might as well. Makes sense.”

You type out a reply: you can ride with us if that’s easier,, plenty of room

Sunghoon, kneeling by the suitcase again, barely glances over. “I thought you said you didn’t like long drives with other people.”

You scroll, pretending not to hear that. On the screen, Niki’s typing…

ki005__ bless ur soul 🙏 see u two losers at 10?

You feel the corners of your mouth pull upward, slow and involuntary. “Ten okay with you?” you ask, not looking up.

“Sure,” Sunghoon says, then stands to stretch, like the conversation's already over.

Your screen lights up again.

ki005__ shotgun btw don’t fight me

You laugh under your breath. Sunghoon doesn’t ask what’s funny. You don’t tell him.

The next morning, Sunghoon’s alarm blares, slicing through the silence of his dim bedroom. You blink awake slowly, watching him stretch one arm toward the phone. He shuts off the sound, sighs, and sits on the edge of the bed.

For a moment, you think he might turn toward you, maybe brush your hair out of your face like he used to. But he doesn’t. He just stands, yawns, and walks into the bathroom without a word.

“Morning to you too,” you mutter under your breath.

You both get ready in now-familiar silence, trading only the essentials, such as

“You packed your swimsuits?”

“Yeah. Did you?”

By the time you’re lugging your bags to the car, you feel like you’re with a roommate rather than with your boyfriend. Everything is just too… habitual, stale almost.

You help Sunghoon fit the luggage into the trunk, neither of you offering much more than grunts of effort. Once seated, with Sunghoon in the driver’s seat and you in the passenger, you unlock your phone and connect it to the car’s Bluetooth.

You scroll for something upbeat. Maybe something to lift the mood. But just as the opening bars of the song start playing, Sunghoon taps the steering wheel screen and changes it to something else. A playlist of low-effort indie tracks he listens to when he’s zoning out.

He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t explain. Just... switches it. You sigh, long and quiet, and turn to the window. Pull out your phone again.

A notification lights up your screen: @ki005__ liked your photo.

And then — a second later — unliked it.

You bite back a smile, heart kicking up a notch against your will. You try not to read too much into it. You fail.

Turns out, Niki only lives three minutes away. As you pull up outside his building, you automatically sit up straighter in your seat, fixing your hair in the rearview mirror without really thinking.

He’s already outside, a duffel bag slung over one shoulder, earbuds in, matching sweat set hanging off his tall and lean frame. Messy blonde hair covering his face. Sleepy-eyed with pouty lips. Effortlessly attractive.

He opens the back door and climbs in, pushing his platinum hair out of his face with one hand. The scent of his cologne filters through the car as he settles in.

“Yo,” he says easily to Sunghoon and you.

Sunghoon glances at him through the rearview. “Right on time. Proud of you.”

“Only because I didn’t sleep,” Niki replies, voice even deeper than you remember. His eyes flick to you briefly, and for a second just a second you swear his gaze lingers before he looks away.

About forty minutes into the drive, Sunghoon pulls off at a gas station. The three of you had just settled into a comfortable silence, the quiet hum of the radio filling the car. You were almost asleep as the car stills with a gentle jolt and Sunghoon parks. He yawns mid-sentence.

“I’ll go pump and pay. You two good?”

You nod, already checking your phone. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Niki’s voice comes from the backseat. “I’m good.”

The door thuds shut behind Sunghoon, and the hum of the engine is replaced by a quiet kind of stillness. The type that immediately makes you aware of every movement, every breath.

You feel Niki shift in the backseat, the soft rustle of fabric as he stretches his legs out. “You always sit that still?” he says after a beat.

You glance at him through the rearview mirror. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugs, a lazy grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You just got all… proper. Like you’re waiting for roll call or something.”

You roll your eyes, a small smile threatening. “I’m literally just sitting.”

“Yeah, but it’s very... formal,” he teases. “I feel like I should be speaking in full sentences or something.”

You huff a laugh. “Sorry I don’t slouch dramatically the second I sit down.”

“Oh, this is dramatic?” he leans his head back against the seat, totally relaxed, baring his long neck. “This is me conserving energy.”

You give him a sidelong look. “Sure. You’re the picture of restraint.”

He hums, smile still tugging. “So you’ve noticed.”

You don’t answer right away. The inside of the car suddenly feels smaller.

Before either of you can say more, you spot Sunghoon heading back. You shift slightly in your seat, eyes flicking to the window. The moment passes. Light and forgettable, except for how it settles somewhere under your belly.

“Let’s go,” Sunghoon says, his mood noticeably uplifted now that he’s returned. The car hums to life and you guys spend another hour or so driving on the highway, the sun setting high in the sky.

Sunghoon’s hand rests on your thigh as the car crawls to a stop, fingers warm and absent-minded, more of a habit than a gesture. You barely notice—you’re too busy staring out the window.

The afternoon sun streaks gold across the sky, bleeding into the ocean just visible beyond the trees. The air is warm and thick with salt, the kind of coastal humidity that makes your clothes stick and your skin feel sun-kissed even before hitting the beach.

Ahead of you, two bungalows sit side by side, like mismatched siblings. The one on the left is signed as B2 and is clearly the nicer of the two, it’s slightly raised on stilts, white wooden siding faded just enough to look effortlessly aesthetic. There's a wide patio lined with string lights and a grill already set up near the steps.

B1, the one you’re pulling into, is smaller. Cozier. A single narrow porch leads to the front door, and you can already tell from here there isn’t a lot of space. You imagine the living room will barely hold three people, let alone host them.

Sunghoon shifts into park.

“Welcome to paradise,” he says, removing his hand from your thigh as he leans over to turn off the engine. You don’t answer, your eyes are already on the two cars in the driveway, the figures moving around them.

The second the doors open, chaos spills out.

“I swear if someone forgot the speaker—” Jungwon’s voice rings across the driveway before you’ve even unbuckled your seatbelt. He’s halfway out of his car, waving a pair of flip-flops in one hand like a flag.

Jay hops out after him, laughing. “Why are you yelling like we’re not all within three feet of you?”

Heeseung leans against his trunk, sunglasses pushed up into his hair. His girlfriend stands beside him, cool and quiet, scrolling on her phone. She barely glances up as people start unloading bags, her vibe unreadable but somehow calm amidst the noise.

You open your door and stretch your legs. The drive wasn’t long, but sitting between Sunghoon’s silence and Ni-ki’s quiet energy in the backseat had left you buzzing.

You glance around just in time to see Niki hop out of the back. He pulls his duffel bag over one shoulder and pushes a hand through his hair. His hoodie’s half-unzipped, sleeves pushed up. You try not to stare at the way the tank top underneath the hoodie hugs his waist, as he blinks into the sun, the breeze catching his platinum hair.

“Yo! You finally made it,” Heeseung calls out to the three of you.

“Traffic was ass,” Sunghoon replies, grabbing both your suitcases from the trunk before you can even protest.

Jay points to B1. “That’s yours, right? The little one? Y’all better cuddle tight.”

You force a laugh. “Guess we’re the cozier bungalow.”

Niki gives the house a once-over, then squints. “Damn. Tiny thing.” His voice is light, but there’s a subtle lilt of irony and when his eyes flick to yours briefly, you feel your stomach flutter.

You pretend not to notice.

The group starts dragging bags toward the houses, voices overlapping again as flip-flops slap against the pavement and someone cranks the volume down on the speaker.

“Okay” Heeseung holds up his phone, squinting at the Airbnb confirmation as everyone crowds loosely around him. “Let’s figure out who’s sleeping where before someone tries to claim the grill as a bed.”

“If I snore, me and Won should get the master as a courtesy to the rest of you,” Jay says, tossing his bag over his shoulder and leaning into Heeseung’s space. “It’s a kindness, really. You don’t wanna hear what happens when I hit REM.”

Heeseung’s girlfriend lifts her head from her phone just long enough to give Jay a side-eye.

“Dream on, man.” Heeseung scrolls with his thumb, then looks up. “Me and my girl have the master in B2. Y’all can fight over whatever’s left.”

Jungwon groans. “If I end up on the floor I’m spooning someone, no discussion.”

“As long as it’s not me,” Jay mutters, already heading up the steps.

“Yeah right,” Jungwon says, playfully slapping Jay’s ass, a soft fondness in his eyes as he does so.

You trail after Sunghoon, letting the rest of them peel off toward B2 in a wave of teasing and mock complaints. You can hear Jungwon’s voice bouncing off the side, something about who packed the best snacks and whether or not cold brew counts as hydration.

Sunghoon stops just short of the door to B1 and turns toward Niki, who’s lingering a few steps behind you, hands in the pockets of his hoodie.

“Bedroom’s ours. You’ve got the couch.”

Niki lifts a brow, clearly unfazed. “As long as it pulls out. Or doesn’t.” He glances at you, just for a second.

Jungwon snorts loudly from the other porch. “Niki, you’re disgusting.”

You pretend not to catch the innuendo, but your face feels warm.

Niki just grins and kicks at a loose pebble by the steps. “I’m easy, anyway. You could toss me a towel and I’d make it work.”

Sunghoon rolls his eyes, turning the key in the lock. “You say that like you didn’t once refuse to sleep in a tent because it ‘smelled like nylon.’”

“Okay, first of all, it reeked like wet socks and shame,” Niki shoots back, following him up the porch. “Second, you promised there’d be a cabin.”

“I lied,” Sunghoon shrugs simply.

You trail behind them, amused. “Didn’t you also say he whined the whole hike up Mount Seorak?”

“That was different,” Niki says quickly. “I had altitude-induced existential dread. You can’t control that.”

You lag behind as the door swings open and your eyes scan the inside. The bungalow’s exactly as expected. Modest and slightly cramped. The living room couch is a muted beige, already half-unfolded, and the small hallway beyond it leads to a single bathroom and a closed bedroom door. A window unit hums quietly, cutting the humidity.

You step inside last.

There’s something about the space. How close everything feels. How there’s no room to hide if anything starts to unravel.

Sunghoon snorts as he pushes the bedroom door open. “You had blisters.”

“Blisters and dread,” Niki corrects, glancing over his shoulder at you with a lazy smile. “She gets it.”

You raise your brows. “I’m not taking sides until I see who actually makes the best barbecue.”

“Oh, it’s on,” Niki grins, brushing past you, “I hope you like your chicken emotionally charred.”

Sunghoon mutters under his breath as he steps in behind you, “That’s rich coming from the guy who once set noodles on fire.”

“I was experimenting,” Niki defends. “Creativity can’t be contained.”

You spend the afternoon like that, bantering with each other. The sun is starting to set as you change into a pastel linen set compromised of shorts and a crop top. You felt pretty as you brushed your hair, spritzing light perfume on before joining the rest of the group outside, by the grill.

The patio of B2 was bathed in golden hour light, the grill heating up and a portable speaker was playing something upbeat. Laughter and beach air are thick in the atmosphere. There are coolers, soda bottles and bags of half-opened chips.

As you step out you already hear Jungwon. Jay is already holding a spatula he definitely wasn’t asked to touch.

“I swear if someone forgot the buns again!” you hear Jungwon shouting.

Jay is grinning as he waves the bun bag around, “Your savior has arrived.”

Heeseung’s girlfriend is leaning against the railing, sipping from a can and listening quietly as Heeseung frowns at the grill knobs like he’s diffusing a bomb.

“Why is this one hissing?” Heesung asks her.

“Because you turned the wrong burner,” she deadpans, moving to show him how to do it right.

“It’s gonna be a long weekend,” you hear Jay mutter as he huffs over to Sunghoon. Who you’re sitting next to at the edge of the patio bench. As soon as you stepped out Jay handed you a cold can of probably beer, that you’re nursing in your lap.

Even as you’re sitting next to Sunghoon he’s mid-conversation with Jay and doesn’t notice when your knee touches his. Just as you were starting to feel awkward only listening in to their conversation Niki slides onto the other side of you.

He was close enough for you to smell his cologne, but not close enough to touch. He took his hoodie off now, sporting a black tank top that hugged his frame – leaving nothing to the imagination. His skin golden under the last of the sun looked inviting and you do your best to gather yourself.

A moment passes.

Your thigh brushes his. He doesn’t move away.

He’s talking to Jungwon about some movie, but you swear you feel the pressure shift. It’s like he leans into the touch just a little more deliberately. Or maybe you’re imagining it. Your drink suddenly feels warmer in your hand.

Sunghoon laughs at something Jay says — something about their shared gym horror stories — and you smile faintly, eyes drifting as Heeseung fiddles with the grill knobs again, one hand shielding his eyes from the low sun.

Heeseung calls out, increasignly more annoyed, “Who said they were good at grilling and lied?”

“I never said I was good. I said I was confident,” Jay tells him with full mouth.

A small gust of sea breeze picks up, carrying the scent of salt and charcoal. The sky’s starting to stain dark red at the edges.

Niki shifts beside you to grab a paper plate from the stack in the center of the table. His knee bumps yours, firmer this time. And again, no apology. Just a tiny glance your way, unreadable. Then he returns to his casual lean, resting his forearm along the edge of the bench, figertips grazing your shoulder.

Just then, Jungwon loudly appears with a bag of ice in his hands, “We need drinks, or I’ll start chewing on these hot dog buns out of boredom.”

“You say that like you haven’t done it before,” Niki deadpans.

Jungwon shrugs, “A man’s gotta survive.”

Everyone laughs. Sunghoon stands and takes the plate from your lap without saying anything, walking over to help Heeseung. You’re left sitting with Niki, who doesn’t move.

“He usually like that?” Niki playfully asks, as he leans a bit into you, his voice low so only you hear him.

You glance at him, confused. “Like what?”

Niki shrugs, his lips spread into a half-grin “A little… married already.”

You snort, it slips out before you can catch it.

“I guess he’s just focused.”

Niki hums, “Mm.” He doesn’t sound convinced. “You don’t seem very focused.”

Your brows lift. “Excuse me?”

Niki fully grins now, staring forward, “Just saying. You keep…” he pauses and looks down at your joined legs, “…accidentally touching me.”

You don’t answer. Instead, you glance down and gulp as your eyes trace over his legs, noticing how much bigger Niki seemed to be than you. It gave him the effortless ability to make you feel small. And horny, you wonder what else-

“You always this quiet in groups?” he casually asks, almost crowding your smaller frame with his much bigger stature.

You shrug, noncommittal. “Depends on the group, I guess.”

You glance at him. Hold it a little too long. He smiles, just a little. You unknowingly lean your head to the side, admiring the slight blush covering his cheeks.

Jungwon across the table from you two, loudly laughs at something unrelated, but still he notices the moment between you and Niki, “Damn, she’s studying him like she’s about to write a dissertation.”

You immediately look away, biting back a smile. It’s a joke light and harmless but it makes Niki huff out a laugh.

“Better get my citations ready, then,” Niki quietly huffs, just loud enough for only you to hear.

You don’t answer. But your thigh presses just a little closer to his under the table. Not enough to be obvious. Just enough to feel his warmth seep into you.

At the cooler, Sunghoon tosses a cold can toward Niki. Niki catches it with one hand.

“You still drink this crap?” Sunghoon grins.

“Only when I’m pretending I’m happy to be here,” Niki fires back.

They grin at each other, an old rhythm. Laughter hums around the table. Bottles clink. You're halfway through your drink, Sunghoon’s angled toward Jay and Heeseung, deep in some debate about gas prices or whatever. You’re not really listening.

Niki shifts beside you to reach for the last can in the cooler. His fingers brush over yours deliberate or not, you can’t tell. He pops the can, leans back with a low sigh.

Just then Jungwon from across the table proclaims, “I call not washing dishes tonight.”

“You didn’t even cook anything,” Jay points out, but he doesn’t seem bothered by it.

“Yeah, because I bring vibes.”

“You bring crumbs, bro,” says Heeseung with tongs in his hands. He’s by the grill flipping the last few pieces of meat left over, “These aren’t cooking fast enough.”

“That’s cause you’re sober, bro,” says Jay, holding up a can of beer.

Once you’re all sat down Heeseung declares “I did the meat,” arms crossed like a judge.

“And I chopped stuff,” says Sunghoon, leaning back in his chair.

“I set up the table,” Jay chimes in, reaching lazily for another chip even though dinner is clearly over.

“I brought vibes,” Jungwon adds with a grin, mouth half-full.

You raise an eyebrow. “You literally showed up with a bag of ice.”

“Exactly,” Jungwon says, smug. “Essential.”

You glance at the pile of dishes accumulating on the patio table. Bowls of melted ice cream, skewers, empty soda cans and beer bottles.

“So, who’s cleaning?” you ask, even though you already know where this is going.

Jay waves a lazy hand. “Not it.”

Heeseung’s girlfriend stands, already brushing off her shorts. “I helped cook. I’m off-duty.”

Jungwon taps at his phone. “I’m on aux. Very important.”

There’s a pause. Then everyone looks at you.

And then at Niki.

“Fine,” you mutter, pushing your chair back. “I’ll start rinsing.”

Niki’s already gathering plates with one hand, sipping from a half-empty can with the other. “I’ll help,” he says, eyes flicking toward you — casual, like he’s not secretly delighted.

Sunghoon doesn’t comment.

In the small bungalow kitchen of B2, you pile dishes beside the sink while Niki turns on the tap. He nudges your elbow as you reach for a bowl. “You dry. I’ll rinse.”

“So bossy,” you mutter, grabbing the towel anyway.

You fall into a quiet rhythm. Steam curls from the hot water. The only sounds are dishes clinking and the faint bass of music still playing outside.

He hands you a plate, fingertips brushing yours.

Then the next.

Then—

“You’re kind of… small, huh?”

You blink, caught off guard, still holding the bowl he passed you. “Excuse me?”

Niki doesn’t look at you. He’s smirking at the faucet. “Not in a bad way. Just—” he shrugs, “Everything about you’s tiny.”

Your jaw drops slightly, face burning. “That’s not— You can’t just say that.”

“You can’t tell me I’m bossy and then act offended when I observe facts,” he says, playfully bumping his shoulder into yours. You sway at the contact, Niki smiles.

You roll your eyes, but your stomach flips. He sets the next plate in the drying rack, then finally turns to look at you.

“Your hands are small too,” he adds, like it’s an afterthought. “Here—” He holds his palm up. “Let me see something.”

You hesitate, heartbeat quickening, then lift your hand to his.

Your fingers meet. His are thicker, longer, they swallow yours easily.

Niki tilts his head, watching the contrast. “Thought so.”

You say nothing, but you’re very aware of how warm his palm is against yours. And how long he lets it linger before pulling away. Aware of the way he has to look down, and the way you have to crane your neck to look up at him when he’s this close.

You take a deep breath, a familiar heat spreading through your lower belly. Your mind is in overdrive, dizzy with a growing need and you wonder if Niki can feel it too, can feel the electricity between you two.

Outside, a burst of laughter is heard. Jay probably dropped something.

Niki gives you one more plate. “Last one,” he murmurs. Your fingers brush again. Neither of you moves when your shoulders touch, standing just a bit too close to each other to be considered platonic.

After the kitchen is finally cleared, the two of you now also joined with Sunghoon, drift back toward B1 with the sort of wordless quiet that only comes after hours in the sun. Flip-flops slap softly against the concrete path. You trail a little behind, watching Sunghoon and Niki.

Thoughts of comparison sneak into your mind before you can stop them. They’re both very tall, but Sunghoon never made you feel tiny and you couldn’t understand why Niki, who’s at most 5cm taller than your own boyfriend continuously made you feel this way.

It wasn’t just the height, Sunghoon was a good boyfriend, but you couldn’t deny that recently your relationship started to feel a little stale, too familiar. Niki on the other hand intrigued you, he was quiet but not shy. Reserved, but not apathetic. Filled with endless oxymorons that you wanted to pick apart until you understood him fully.

You glance at their backs. Same broad shoulders, same lazy stride. But when Niki walks, it feels like the air shifts. Like you’re meant to follow.

Sunghoon is the first to speak again, voice low as he thumbs through his phone. “Jungwon’s making me download some old movie for movie night. Like, black and white old.”

You blink. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. Said it’s ‘actual cinema.’”

Niki lets out a snort. “Bet it’s boring as hell.”

“Don’t tell him that,” Sunghoon mutters, fiddling with the door key.

“He probably already knows,” you say with a small laugh.

Inside, the bungalow is darker and cooler than outside. You click on the hallway light and a soft glow spills across the small space. The couch is still pulled out halfway, pillow already set up, and a folded blanket rests on top. Someone probably Sunghoon tossed it there earlier without comment.

Niki toes off his slides and heads straight for it, dragging the blanket to one side as he drops onto the cushions.

“I got couch,” he says, almost too casually, pulling the pillow under his arm. “You two go pretend you’re dating.”

You roll your eyes, but Sunghoon just stretches. “Not pretending,” he mumbles, already heading to the bedroom. “She steals all the covers.”

“You snore,” you call after him.

He doesn’t deny it.

The bathroom door creaks open and closed as Sunghoon steps in to brush his teeth. You hover by the small hallway shelf, fidgeting with your toiletry bag, but your eyes drift back toward the couch.

Niki’s tossed his phone on the edge and is flipping through the TV menu, blanket over his lap like he’s done this a thousand times before. He doesn’t look tired. Just… calm. Settled.

You pause for a second longer than you mean to.

He glances up, catching your gaze. His voice is quieter than before, almost lazy. “Don’t worry. I won’t snore.”

“I know where to come then, if Sunghoon gets too loud.” You mean it as a joke but it comes out more suggestive than you intend.

Your face burns as Niki raises his eyebrows, a slight smirk stretching across his lips.

“You might regret that. I’m not great at sharing space.” He lets it sit for a beat, then adds with a half-smile, “I do like to cuddle though.”

Your mouth opens. Then closes. You laugh a little too quickly.

“Just as long as you're not a blanket thief…” it slips out before you think, and now it’s your words hanging between you like smoke.

His eyes flick up. The moment stretches.

You scramble to fill it.

“I— I mean, not that I’d actually, like… come over. That’d be— weird.” You’re already backing up a step, fingers twitching at your hair.

“Right?”

He doesn’t say anything, he just watches you, unreadable, lips still curled.

Heat creeps up your neck.

You turn before he can answer. Practically flee into the bedroom.

Behind you, you hear his soft laugh low and amused, followed by the gentle click of the TV remote, the hum of something starting to play.

Not much later, after you’ve both freshened up in the bathroom, you slip beneath the covers beside Sunghoon. Your thighs ache annoyingly and betrayingly. You replay the memories of Niki, all the teasing, all the quiet touching. You shuffle closer into Sunghoon, hoping he can eradicate any thoughts of other men. You cuddle into his side and nuzzle your face into his neck.

He lets you, wrapping an arm around you. As you kiss his neck he stiffens, “babe, Niki’s right next door.”

“So?” you ask, moving to straddle him as he continues laying down.

“It’s fine, we closed the door,” you say, reaching for the hem of your shirt and pulling it over your head. It lands somewhere behind you.

Sunghoon rests his hands on your hips, satiated with your excuse. You can feel him getting hard under you and you smirk.

You lean down, enveloping his lips in a passionate kiss as your hands move under his shirt, softly scratching at his plush skin.

“You’re really needy tonight, huh?” Sunghoon comments, more to himself than you.

“Can’t help it when I have such a hot boyfriend,” you say, rocking your hips against him. Willing yourself to stay grounded in the moment and not let your thoughts escape to a taller man, a man who was in the next room.

Sunghoon groans softly, the sound caught in his throat as you roll your hips again. “Fuck… babe…”

“Did you bring condoms?” you ask, as you already move to his suitcase.

“Yep, left corner at the bottom,” he tells you, and when you’re back on him you’re both naked. You rip the wrapper open with your mouth before rolling it onto his hard length.

You watch as his eyebrows pinch together and squeeze him a bit, just the way he likes.

Sunghoon softly groans as he throws his head back, allowing you to essentially play with his dick. And you do, gripping it and jerking it as you please.

Your hand can just barely envelop his girth, he was big but since Niki was bigger in all other aspects would that also mean he’s… you shake the thought away, and rock your wet folds against Sunghoon’s dick, almost laying down on him.

He watches you, flexing his abs in quiet restraint.

You knew your boyfriend and you knew if Niki wasn’t behind closed doors Sunghoon would’ve already had you the way he likes it. Passionately, deeply and roughly.

Which was why you wanted to tease him more, not getting this opportunity often, but alas your impatience drives you into sinking on him too quickly. You both groan, trying to stifle any noise as you adjust – you to the stretch of his dick, and Sunghoon to how tightly your little pussy wrapped around his dick.

The mattress creaks beneath you, old springs giving way with every motion. It’s subtle at first, but soon it starts sounding unmistakable. Rhythmic. Inescapable.

From the other side of the wall, the TV volume suddenly clicks louder.

You freeze for half a second, not stopping entirely, just… aware that Niki definitely knew what the two of you were doing behind closed doors. Your breath catches.

Sunghoon notices. He laughs a little, low and amused, his hands squeezing at your hips. “What, getting shy now?” he murmurs, his voice brushing warm against your collarbone.

You don’t answer but your eyes flick toward the wall.

Sunghoon’s grin is slow. He’s misreading it. “C’mon,” he says, lifting his hips to meet yours again. “I’m sure Niki doesn’t mind hearing your pretty little moans.”

Your body jerks involuntarily. Your thighs clench tighter around him. He feels it.

His voice drops, half teasing, half turned on. “Oh… you like that?”

You try to play it off, but your face is already hot. You look down, lips parted.

Sunghoon sits up slightly, flipping you two, so he’s on top of you.

His mouth brushes your jaw possessively, like he’s a predator guarding his prey and it turns you on, thoughts of Niki eradicated. For now.

“You want him to hear us? Want him to know how soaked you get just from riding me?”

Your breath shudders out, lashes fluttering, “Yes” you dreamily sigh.

He groans, voice rougher now, “Dirty girl…”

You moan into his mouth as he kisses you again, this time rougher, his hands gripping harder as you move together, it’s messy and heated. The bedframe knocks softly against the wall.

The TV volume clicks up again.

Your eyes squeeze shut. You imagine Niki with his hands down his pants, listening to you. Playing with his hard dick and wishing you were in the living room with him instead.

You moan loudly. Sunghoon growls in a possessive warning to be less loud. But it does nothing to stop your mind from picturing Niki on top of you.

Ater all is done and you sloppily clean up together Sunghoon dozes off, spooning you from behind.

You on the other hand can’t sleep. The ache between your thighs is still present, even more intense now. You can’t stop thinking about Niki, his bigger frame, his dark eyes, the way he always seemed to be close to you or watching you…

After more tossing and turning around in the bed you finally manage to fall asleep to Sunghoon’s soft snores, the even and familiar rhythm lulling you to sleep.

You wake to a soft rustle of sheets and the sun warming the back of your neck.

Sunghoon is curled around you, one arm snug at your waist, his chest rising and falling against your spine. His breathing is steady, calm. He smells like salt and warmth and the lingering sharpness of last night.

Your body aches, pleasantly sore from last night but something inside still gnaws. That deep, low ache hasn’t gone away. If anything, it’s worse now.

You squeeze your thighs together, as if that’ll ease it. It doesn’t. It’s not Sunghoon’s fault. He was good, sweet, and familiar. The kind of rhythm you knew by heart. But it still wasn’t enough. Because someone else is in your head.

Still.

You finally slip out of bed once you’re sure Sunghoon’s breathing has evened again, brushing your teeth in the tiny bathroom and rinsing your face with cold water in hope it clears your thoughts. It doesn’t.

You step out into the main room only to stop short. Niki is already up. Sitting sideways on the couch, long legs stretched out in front of him, one arm draped over the backrest. His hair’s a mess. A thin silver chain around his neck. He wasn’t wearing a shirt. He looks like he didn’t sleep or like he hasn’t been to bed at all.

You hesitate, but he doesn't look at you. Doesn’t even flinch.

You go to the kitchenette, grab a mug, pour some coffee from the thermos left out by Heeseung when they made the first pot before heading to B2. The silence stretches long. Too long.

You glance over again.

He still hasn’t looked at you. Just staring blankly at something on his phone. His expression is unreadable, still and blank in that way he always is, like there’s something going on inside and he just won’t let you see it.

The coffee’s hot against your tongue. Too hot. You burn your mouth slightly but don’t react.

He speaks just as you’re lifting your mug again.

“Sleep okay?”

You nearly drop it.

You nod too fast. “Yeah. You?”

Niki hums. Barely.

“Not really, t’was kinda noisy, I heard you.”

The mug clinks against the counter. You choke a little. “Heard…?”

Niki finally looks at you.

His eyes are dark not sleepy, not soft. Just focused. Direct.

“Sunghoon,” he says simply. “He snores.”

You exhale too loudly. Your laugh is brittle, cut at the edges. “Oh. Yeah, he does that sometimes. I’m used to it.”

He nods once, looking away again. But not before his gaze drops just briefly to your legs, bare beneath your oversized tee. His mouth twitches like he was going to say something else but thought better of it. You pretend to busy yourself with stirring sugar into your cup. Your hands are shaking. You tell yourself it’s the caffeine.

But you can’t stop thinking. Did he hear more than snoring? Did he hear you moan? Did he want to? His voice was unreadable. But his eyes… There was something there.

You go back to the room after that, crawl back into bed where Sunghoon sleepily tugs you close again. You let him. You even kiss his cheek, nuzzle your nose into the crook of his neck.

But your pulse is still skipping. Your body is still awake. Your mind is already elsewhere. And you know exactly who it’s with.

When you step into the kitchen for the second time today, it’s already a little warm from the early sun. Sunghoon’s already poured your coffee. You sit beside him, trying not to look like you didn’t sleep or like your brain has been replaying someone else’s face since 2AM.

Niki walks in a moment later. His hair’s damp from a shower. He’s shirtless again, wearing only swim trunks, towel over one shoulder, phone in his hand. You don’t look directly. You can’t. But your pulse stutters when he brushes past you, reaching for a mug.

"Groupchat says beach by eleven," he says casually. “Jay and Jungwon are already down there. Heeseung’s girlfriend brought one of those fold-up coolers.”

Sunghoon leans forward to check his phone. “Sick. We can just bring drinks and chips or something.”

Niki nods, noncommittal. He sits across from you, sipping quietly. You feel his eyes once. Just once. Why does he sound so casual, but look like—

No. Stop. You exhale. You’re imagining things again.

...Aren’t you?

After breakfast is finished, you dig through your suitcase for your black one-piece swimming suit. The safe one. The covered one. The one Sunghoon likes and specifically asked you to take. But your hand hits string. Ribbed fabric. Triangle cups. Your stomach drops.

“Shit…”

You’re still holding it up dumbly when the bedroom door creaks open behind you.

“You almost ready?”

You turn. Sunghoon’s leaning against the doorframe, rubbing sunscreen between his hands. You hold the bikini by the strap, like it might explain itself. “I thought I packed the one-piece.”

He pauses. Then frowns. “That’s not it?”

You nod. “They’re both black. I grabbed the wrong ones.”

There’s a beat of silence. Then, pointedly he asks “…You’re really gonna wear that?”

Your brow lifts. “I mean… yeah? I only brought one swimsuit with me.”

“I just—” he laughs under his breath, rubbing his neck. “I didn’t think you’d bring the tiny one.”

“It’s not that tiny,” you huff.

He raises an eyebrow.

You cross your arms. “It’s just a bikini, Sunghoon.”

“Yeah, but—” He sighs. “Come on, baby, like—the guy’s are gonna see you in that.”

That catches you. Sharp and immediate. Your eyes narrow. “So? It’s not like I took them on purpose.”

Sunghoon’s tone shifts, it’s still soft, but strained. “I just don’t like the idea of them seeing you like that.”

You pause.

“Then don’t look,” you say, turning away.

You walk to the bathroom with the bikini still in hand. Behind you, Sunghoon exhales but doesn’t further comment.

From the couch in the next room, Niki doesn’t say anything. But you’re sure he heard.

You glance at him just once and catch him watching the TV, expression unreadable, remote still in hand. Too focused for it to be natural.

His eyes flick to you as you pass, just for a second. Just long enough to make you heat up, shyly speed up your step. But neither of you speak. You feel his gaze on you as you enter the bathroom, heartbeat spiking and you can’t deny it. You’re secretly looking forward to him seeing you in this set.

By the time you’re walking down to the beach, the sand is still cool beneath your feet. It’s an easy silence. Or at least it would be, if not for the way Sunghoon keeps close to your side, hand occasionally brushing yours, like he’s reminding everyone who you belong to.

You feel Niki fall into a step behind you. Not quite trailing. Just… not rushing. You don’t turn around. Not at first. But then, a whisper of fingertips grazes the small of your back. Just one second. Maybe less. A ghost of touch, light as air.

You jolt barely and glance back, pulse ticking up.

Niki is looking straight ahead, board tucked beneath one arm, mouth unreadable. Not a smirk. Not even a glance. He could’ve brushed past you by accident. You could pretend it was nothing.

But your skin is burning where he touched. You bite the inside of your cheek. Keep your face neutral. Force your eyes back to the ocean in the distance. But your heart is hammering.

Sunghoon doesn’t notice a thing. “Did you remember sunscreen?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re gonna need a lot in this tiny thing…” he dryly comments, still sulking that you’re wearing it.

You glance down at yourself. Black, tiny, sure, but everything was covered. Even if you could feel the bottoms digging into your asscheeks, even if you had to keep adjusting your top so you wouldn’t flash anyone by accident.

“I already told you thought I grabbed the other one,” you sigh, annoyed. “They’re both black. I got confused.”

Sunghoon clicks his tongue. “Well, now every guy here is gonna get confused too.”

He drapes a towel over your shoulders, tugs the ends together at your chest like it’ll hide anything. It’s not that you don’t appreciate the sweetness. But the tension in his jaw makes it feel... like a leash. You let the towel fall back open.

Just then, Jungwon whistles as you approach.

“Damn girl,” he grins, lounging on a towel next to Jay, “you’re making the beach jealous.”

Niki snorts. “Don’t start.”

You barely have time to laugh before Sunghoon throws a look that could slice steel. Jungwon lifts his hands innocently, grinning wider.

Sunghoon doesn’t say anything just steps closer, wraps an arm low around your waist. You stiffen a little. Smile for show. And feel Niki’s eyes before you see them.

When you finally glance his way he’s not subtle. His eyes are already sliding back up your legs, past your hips, then lingering just long enough on the line of your chest to make heat spark beneath your skin.

And when your eyes meet, he doesn’t glance away. He just looks at you like he’s thinking about something. Something he shouldn’t be.

Your stomach dips.

You force your attention forward. Pretend the air isn’t suddenly warmer. Pretend your thighs aren’t pressing a little tighter together beneath the towel slung around your waist.

So, when you all move to the water, you angle yourself away from him. Playfully splash at Jay. Duck behind Sunghoon. Anything to stay far, far from him.

It’s working.

Until it’s not. Jay lunges at someone — Jungwon shrieks — a huge wave rolls toward you, foam curling at the top. You brace, but your foot slips, and in the brief chaos, something catches you.

No—someone.

Hands, firm at your waist, steadying you.

You freeze. You know who it is before he speaks.

“Careful,” Niki says, voice low. You feel it in your core. His breath brushes your ear. His grip firms for just a second, not enough to hurt, but enough to remind you how much larger he is. How easily he could move you if he wanted to.

You’re painfully aware of the way your body fits against his. Your head barely at his shoulder, your waist swallowed in his palms.

You turn to look but he’s already gone. Already stepped away, drifting toward the others like nothing happened.

Your heart pounds. Your pulse thrums between your legs. You’re not imagining it. Not anymore. Later, when you’re drying off, you catch him watching again. And this time, you don’t look away.

Everyone’s sitting around on the beach towels, casually snacking on fruit and sandwiches. The group’s easy laughter fills the air, but your eyes keep drifting to Niki, who sits a little apart, fiddling with a seashell. Heeseung leans over Jungwon, nodding toward you and Niki. “You notice how these two barely talk? Like, they’re around each other but kind of distant?”

Jungwon shrugs. “Yeah, it’s weird. You guys don’t really vibe with each other, huh?” He tells you and Niki. But before either one of you can say something in response, Jungwon continues.

He turns to Heeseung, “but I figure they’re just not that close or maybe still getting to know each other?”

Jay chimes in, grinning, “Definitely not like the rest of the gang. They’re like… polite strangers.”

Heeseung’s girlfriend laughs softly. “Maybe they’re just on different wavelengths or something.”

Sunghoon catches the comment and smirks. “Probably. You know how some people just don’t click right away.”

You nod, chewing your sandwich, feeling a strange mix of relief and frustration. It’s true you and Niki do act different around each other. Not quite awkward, but definitely not easy either.

Niki glances over briefly, and you quickly look away. The group moves on to another topic, unaware how loaded that quiet distance really is between you two.

You clear your throat and stand up, forcing a smile. “I’m just gonna grab some more snacks and water for everyone.” You grab your bag and head toward B1.

A minute later, you’re pulling out some bottled water out of the fridge and a bag of gummy worms. You’re rifling through the small plastic bag of snacks when you hear footsteps behind you.

Niki’s voice follows a second later, low and casual. “So… we’re polite strangers now?”

You nearly jump, hand still buried in the bag. “I didn’t hear you come in,” you say, turning your head over your shoulder. “And they’re just being dramatic. We’re not strangers.”

Niki leans against the counter beside you, arms crossed. “Polite, though?”

You huff a small laugh, plucking out a gummy worm and popping it into your mouth. “Only to keep the peace.”

He nods slowly, watching you chew. “Mm. What flavor was that?”

You hold up the bag. “The best one. I only like the red ones, so I’m picking them out before the others get to them.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You’re hoarding gummy worms?”

“I’m curating an experience.”

“Uh huh,” he murmurs, slipping a hand into the bag before you can stop him.

“Wait—!” you lunge for it, but it’s too late. He’s already fished out a red one with unholy accuracy, grinning like he planned it.

“This one?” he asks, holding it just out of reach. You reach again, but he easily steps back, long arm lifting the candy above your head like it’s a game. Because for him, it is.

You scowl. “That’s mine.”

“Then come get it,” he murmurs, voice dipping low, teasing. “Come on, pretty. You want it, don’t you?”

You poorly try to snatch it again. His height makes it a joke. One hand to your shoulder, one holding the worm, he keeps you at bay like you weigh nothing.

“You’re so tiny,” he teases, smirking. “It’s cute. Like watching a kitten try to climb a cabinet.”

You glare, lunging again, and he just shifts his arm higher with obnoxious ease.

“Oh no,” he adds mockingly, eyes gleaming. “The ground-level threat is back.”

You huff, stepping in closer, pretending to try again but this time you shift the game. Your hand slides along his side, just below his belly button, fingers grazing the skin just above his waistband. You feel it immediately. His sharp inhale, the flinch in his posture. His muscles tense under your touch like you flipped a switch.

His smirk drops. His whole body stills. You look up at him through your lashes, playing innocent. “Problem?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Just stares down at you, eyes dark and unreadable.

Then he moves.

In one step he’s crowding you back against the counter, towering over you, voice a low scrape of gravel. “Fine, you want it? Then open your mouth.”

You freeze. The tone is different now. Serious. Darker. Your lips part instinctively.

He slides the gummy worm between them, slow, deliberate. His fingers brush your tongue.

You close around them. Suck just faintly. Purposefully.

His jaw tightens. His breath catches. His hand curls tight around the counter behind you. “Good girl,” he mutters, low and rough, like the words cost him something.

Your mouth pulls into a slow smile as you chew. “You shouldn’t have teased me,” you murmur, voice light but your eyes say something else entirely.

He exhales hard.

“You drive me crazy,” he mutters to himself, thinking you wouldn’t hear it (but you do), already turning to leave. He grabs the big water bottle from the counter and walks off, shoulders tense.

When you join the group outside a few minutes later, with cheeks flushed and heart pounding, you settle beside Sunghoon. But you feel Niki’s eyes on you. You’re on edge for the rest of the day, jumpy, too observant. The restlessness follows you into nighttime.

One again you’re tossing and turning in the bed, unable to sleep. Sunghoon’s snores don’t help lull you to sleep this time. Instead, they act as a bigger distraction to your lack of sleep. You sigh and grumble to yourself before sitting up.

You contemplate for a moment and then you’re off. Wrapping your silk summer robe over your naked body you quietly shuffle out of the bedroom. The purpose? Getting water. Water that’s located in the kitchenette, but to get there you have no choice but to pass through the living room. Where Niki was.

You just had to open the bedroom door and you’d be in the living room. A small hallway that could barely classify as that was where you’d have to pass to see him. A door and 5 steps. That’s all that separated the two of you. You’ve been avoiding him ever since the incident today. Constantly reminding yourself that you have a boyfriend, like it’s a mantra.

You walk painfully slow past him, padding softly on your tippy toes and slightly hunched over. At any other time you’d look hilarious, but you’re too nervous tonight to think about that. You don’t want to wake him up. You don’t even dare glance at him, knowing that knowing what he looked like while he was sleeping would consume your mind, the image etching itself deep into your brain.

Which was why you don’t notice that he’s awake, scrolling on his phone, only wearing his boxers, also unable to sleep. His eyes follow your figure all the way into the kitchen, watching, calculating… The fridge hums behind you as you fill a glass with water, your silk robe barely clinging to your skin. The quiet should be peaceful.

It isn’t.

“You really weren’t gonna say anything to me all night?”

Your hand freezes. You don’t turn around. You don’t need to.

Niki’s voice is low. Hoarse. Just behind you in the dark.

You whisper, “I didn’t know you were awake.”

“I was.”

Silence stretches.

“I watched you walk past. Slow. Quiet. Pretending you didn’t feel me watching.”

Your pulse kicks up. You clutch the glass tighter. “Please don’t start—”

“Start?” he cuts in, voice soft but deadly. “Sweetheart, you started this. Every time you run, you’re the one starting it all over again.”

You finally turn to face him.

Niki’s leaned against the counter now, towering over you. His hair is messy from sleep. His eyes stormy. Wild. “You think I don’t notice?” he murmurs. “The way you react whenever I touch you. Your body doesn’t lie.”

“Niki—”

He steps forward. Just one slow, measured step. “Do you have any idea what it’s doing to me?” Another step. You’re backed up to the wall now, between the fridge and hallway, cold tile against your calves.

“I can’t sleep. I can’t fucking breathe around you. And you know what makes it worse?”

He leans down, lips near your cheek. “It’s that you want me just as bad. And yet you still go back to him.”

You whisper, “He didn’t do anything wrong.”

“But he’s not me,” Niki says like a sin, like a prayer.

You open your mouth to reply, but he beats you to it.

“Tell me you haven’t thought about it. How good it felt when I touched you. When I put that candy in your mouth and you sucked on my fingers.”

He exhales hard. “Fuck—You looked up at me like you’d let me ruin you right there.”

Goosebumps raise on your skin. His voice, even deeper than usually, was finding home somewhere deep in your belly. “I shouldn’t be here,” you whisper, trying to escape but Niki’s bigger frame has you caged in place.

“But you are.”

He slips one naked thigh between yours. “You’re not wearing anything underneath this robe? Don’t act like this was innocent.”

His voice drops lower, slight growl to his words, the desperation slipping through his nonchalant facade. “You still wanna be a good girl for me, right?”

He cups your jaw, tilts your head up to meet his gaze. “You wanna be my good girl so bad it’s killing you.”

You nod once, barely breathing.

His lips brush yours in a not-quite a kiss. Not yet, even though you chase his lips. But he stops you, speaking. “Then be good for me.” His hand slips under your robe, up your thigh, to your soaked center. “But you don’t get to cum.”

Your breath stutters. He’s already pressing his middle finger into you slow, hard, firm. “Not here. Not yet.”

You let out a soft sigh, spreading your legs in silent consent for him to continue. He bites your earlobe gently. “You’ll cum when you admit who you really want.”

You shake your head, your eyes squeezed shut, lips trembling. You grab onto his forearm that’s between your legs, grinding onto his finger. But he doesn’t move.

“Say it,” Niki whispers, grinding you into the wall. “Say my name. Say it and I’ll let you fall apart on my cock right here outside his door.”

His body is so close now, it’s all you can feel. His thigh between yours, his hand under your robe, the heat of his mouth against your ear.

“Niki,” you silently cry out in a desperate plea. You feel him slipping another finger into you. Your wet velvet walls sucking him. Fuck. If his fingers felt so thick in you, then you couldn’t wait for his dick. You clench around his fingers at the thought and Niki’s towering frame leans down, close to your ear.

“Still pretending this means nothing?”

“It doesn’t—” you moan out, barely controlling your volume. His thumb grazes your clit. Your eyes shut as you cover your mouth with your hands to prevent any noises from escaping.

“Bullshit,” Niki hisses, he pinches your clit, pressing it with his thumb into the side of his palm in punishment. It makes your walls tighten even more. A sob escapes you when he presses his hips against yours.

“You don’t even believe that. You’re dripping. And your boyfriend is nowhere near, you thinking of him or me right now?”

You flinch. Shame and need twist in your gut. But they’re squashed by an overpowering and ever growing need for Niki.

“I shouldn’t—”

“But you are. You came out here wearing nothing under this robe. You walked right past me, like you wanted me to stop you.”

You close your eyes, head tilting back as he curls his fingers, finally pushing them in and out. “Niki…” you choke out in a broken whimper, hands curling around his biceps to steady yourself.

His mouth is at your neck now, kissing, claiming you. “There it is.” He rasps, biting you just under your throat softly. You squeeze his bicep in warning. He just licks over the bitten spot.

“Say my name again,” he says, sounding utterly destroyed already.

“Niki—” you whimper, quietly. Too quietly.

Through gritted teeth, “louder.”

You hesitate. He drags his fingers along your slit, barely there. Not enough. It’s maddening.

“Niki,” you quietly whimper, squeezing your walls when Niki changes the current rhythm. The speed picking up with your growing desperation.

“Fuck—say it like you mean it,” he breathes, sharp and strained.

You whimper as starts rubbing circles over your clit as he’s still fingering you. Your hands claw at his chest.

“Please…”

“No.” He stills his hand. “Not until you say it.”

You’re walking on the edge of tears and pleasure, too dumb to think about anything, anyone other than Niki,“Say what?”

“Say you want me,” he says, lips against yours, not kissing you yet.

He strokes deeper. Your knees buckle. He catches you, arm wrapping around your waist.

“I want you,” you pant, grinding on his hands. Your eyes burn and you can feel a tear slip down your cheek.

“Not enough.”

He stops again. Cruel. Controlled.

You pout up at him, he bites his lip, eyelids dropping slightly. He leans into you. “I want you, Niki. I want you,” you breathe your voice breaking and cheeks wet with your tears.

His breath leaves him like a punch. He back-walks you gently into the hallway against the wall. The wall that separates the bedroom from the rest of the house. Where Sunghoon is sleeping.

No hesitation now. The robe slips open just enough. “That’s all I needed.” He pushes down his boxers, his cock springing free. He doesn’t give you any time to look at it, sliding his cock inside you. He’s slow, thick, unbearable.

Your robe bunches up at your waist, you feel his cock dragging between your folds, veiny and heavy. Thicker than you expected. The kind of thick that makes your breath catch in your throat.

“Shit—” you whisper, body trembling.

Niki chuckles low behind you. It sounds dark, satisfied, already flushed. “You’re shaking,” he murmurs, guiding his cock to your entrance. “You haven’t even felt the whole thing yet.”

You brace yourself, hand gripping his shoulders. “You’re not small.”

That gets a sharp exhale out of him. He leans forward, his chest brushing your back, his voice dipping into your ear like a secret. “You’ll take it. You’re already soaking for it.”

“God—” you half sob, your walls continuously clenching down on him as you try to adjust to his thick length, splitting you apart.

Niki’s voice cracks with restraint, “don’t move.” His hand clamps over your hip. His forehead presses to yours. “Just stay like this.”

“Why?”

Niki’s barely breathing, his skin covered in a thin sheen of sweat as he tries to calm his ragged breathing down, “Because if I fuck you the way I want to… we’re gonna wake your boyfriend up.”

You gasp. He smiles. Dark, unhinged, wrecked.

“So be good. Take it. Feel me.” He rolls his hips once. Slow, still not fully in you. Deep. “You’ll cum when you admit I’m the only one who gets to have you.”

Your head falls back. Eyes flutter. His thumb catches a tear tracing your cheek.

“Fuck,” he mutters, kissing the corner of your eye. “So pretty when you cry for me.”

He cups your jaw, then your breast roughly, wordlessly claiming. You hiss as he squeezes hard, too hard but he’s already pulling you forward, sliding out.

You make a strangled noise, empty without him. Niki doesn’t pause.

He shoves your robe up, pushes you over the couch. Your knees dig into the cushions. One hand braced on the backrest.

You hear the sound of him spitting in his palm. The slick stroke of him lining up again.

A moan, low and raw, as he grinds the head of his cock between your folds. “Every fucking night,” he mutters. “I think about this. About bending you over like this. Filling you up so deep you forget how to lie.”

You whimper. He grabs your hips, hard enough to bruise.

“You were made for this,” Niki breathes, more to himself than you. “Made for me.”

He pushes in, slow at first, the stretch near unbearable. You’re choking on your own gasp, trying to breathe through it, but your walls spasm around him, trying to force him out.

Niki groans, it’s a sound full of restraint and disbelief. “Fuck. You feel like this for him?” He starts to push deeper, jaw clenched. “No… you don’t. You can’t.”

You moan but it sounds more like a sob. His size splits you open, the burn meeting something deeper, something you don’t want to name yet.

He sinks in all the way. Your hips jerk forward, eyes fluttering shut. “Such a good girl for me,” he pants. “That’s it. Let me fill you.”

His hands spread across your waist, holding you steady like you might run. But you’re not running. You’re melting.

“God—Niki—” you whisper, your fingers clenching the cushion.

“Too much?” he asks but the smirk in his voice is already smug.

“No—just… just big,” you confess, voice cracking.

That shatters something in him.

“Say that again.”

“You’re… big,” you stammer, heat crawling up your neck. “I can feel it in my stomach.”

He snarls softly behind you, one hand sliding up your spine, pressing you deeper into the couch as he starts to move. Slow, dragging strokes that scrape along every nerve ending inside you.

“This pussy’s mine already,” he mutters, more to himself than to you. “You moan like you’ve been waiting for this.”

“I haven’t—” You’re cut off by a sharp thrust that knocks the breath out of you.

“No? Then why’d you keep looking at me every time he touched you?”

His voice is venom and honey, seething and smug. “You’d kiss him, and still look at me like you wanted more.”

Your whole body tenses. “I—I didn’t mean—”

“You meant it,” Niki snaps, grinding deeper into you. “You wanted me to notice. You wanted me to get jealous.”

He yanks your hair back just enough to turn your face, so he can see your lips parting in a moan you’re desperate to hide. “And I did. I noticed everything.”

He slams into you harder, rougher now. You whimper it’s too much, too deep, and somehow still not enough.

“I see the way he touches you. All careful. Like you’ll break.”

He bites the shell of your ear. “I won’t be careful.”

Your orgasm builds fast, overwhelming the stretch, the fullness, the jealousy behind his words. You’re panting, desperate.

“I can’t—Niki, I’m gonna—”

He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you flush to him as he fucks you through it murmuring filth into your ear while you shatter.

“That’s it. Come for me.” His voice breaks. “Show me this pussy is mine.”

You cry out, body convulsing as you clench down on him. His pace stutters, cock throbbing inside you.

He follows with a low groan, spilling inside you, hands gripping your hips like he’s trying to burn the shape of you into his palms.

For a long moment, neither of you move. Just heavy breathing. Sweat-damp skin. Your body pulsing around his.

Then, quieter Niki presses his forehead to your spine. “You ruined me,” he breathes.

You don’t answer. You can’t. But your hand reaches back trembling to find his. And he laces your fingers together. You stay like that for a while. Folded over the couch, skin damp, heart pounding.

Niki doesn’t move. He’s barely still inside you, his chest pressed to your back, both of you trembling with the aftershocks. His hand is still locked in yours. His breath hits the curve of your shoulder, ragged and hot.

No words.

Slowly, silently, Niki pulls out and you both gasp like it hurts. You don’t dare look at him as you pull your robe down and sink onto the couch, legs tucked under you. You feel stretched, sore, leaking.

You feel ruined.

Niki leans against the wall across from you. His hair is a mess, sweat shining on his chest, and his eyes they’re not smug anymore. They’re starved.

“You okay?” he whispers.

You nod.

But your eyes don’t meet his.

You fix your robe. Run fingers through your hair. Like if you’re fast enough, no one will know what just happened.

“I should go,” you whisper. “Sunghoon might wake up.”

His jaw ticks. He hesitates. For a second, it looks like he might say something else, something too real. But then he exhales, pushes a hand through his hair, and doesn’t say anything as he watches you leave.

Your body is warm. Too warm.

It takes a second before you remember where you are, who you’re with and why your thighs ache. Sunghoon shifts beside you, arm slung lazily over your waist, his chest rising and falling in slow, peaceful rhythm.

He mumbles your name. It should be comforting. And it is. But it also feels like being caught. You stare at the ceiling.

You did it. You crossed the line. And it wasn’t a mistake. And you have a feeling it wouldn’t be a one time thing either.

Your fingers twitch. You can still feel Niki’s breath in your ear. The rough press of his palms all over you. Sunghoon sighs again and pulls you closer, nuzzling the back of your neck like instinct.

You feel different now. Like you’re split in two halves. The girl who touches her boyfriend like nothing happened... and the girl who can still feel Niki’s fingers between her thighs.

You tie your robe tighter and pad out, barefoot on cold tile. Your hair’s a mess. You haven’t even washed your face. The kitchen’s quiet but not empty.

Niki stands near the counter, tousled bedhead, glass of juice in one hand, phone in the other. He looks up.

“Morning,” he says low, unreadable.

You swallow.

“Sleep well?” he asks.

“Like a rock,” you say, forcing a brittle smile, reaching for a glass of water.

There’s a slight pause.

“Yeah,” Niki murmurs, gaze flicking to your mouth. “You looked wrecked when you left.”

The glass nearly slips from your fingers.

But Niki doesn’t move. Doesn’t smirk. Just sips his juice and scrolls casually, like he didn’t just ruin your nervous system in three words. Sunghoon joins you two just then. And the three of you have breakfast, the two guys seem to be in a good mood, bantering and teasing each other.

The sun’s high already when you three join the others on the beach.

Your bikini feels too small the minute you leave the house — or maybe it’s the way Niki looked at you when you stepped out. Not directly. Not for long. Just… long enough to know he noticed.

You hold Sunghoon’s hand like it anchors you to the right version of yourself. You laugh too loud at his joke. Kiss his cheek too quickly. You’re trying.

Maybe if you play the part well enough, you’ll forget what you did. Who you became.

Sunghoon’s still talking, half-focused, half-scanning the crowd. “Okay, so we rotate after every point, right? Heeseung always forgets that. Also, snacks. We need more of those sour gummies—”

He pauses, eyes flicking toward where Niki’s lounging in the sand, shirtless, arms behind his head.

Then he grins and nudges you lightly. “And someone better remind her to reapply. Last time she turned into a tomato.”

You roll your eyes, faking a yawn. “I’m fine.”

But Sunghoon’s still looking at Niki as he adds, teasing, “If she burns, it’s your fault too.”

Your stomach flips.

Niki grins slow, deliberate but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Don’t worry,” he says. “I’ll keep an eye on her.”

You almost choke on your water at the implication. Sunghoon just laughs, oblivious.

As you all lay your towels down, Sunghoon starts rubbing sunscreen over your shoulders, he’s sweet, focused, unbothered. Niki watches briefly, jaw tight, before tossing him a comment.

“You missed a spot,” he says, touching the place he means, the dip just below your bikini bottoms. “That’ll definitely burn.”

He says it like nothing. But you know. He knows you know. You meet his gaze over your shoulder for just a second. And something sharp passes between you, an unspoken possession.

Like a warning.

The volleyball net is up by the time the two guys deem you protected enough from the sun. Jungwon’s already flinging a ball into the air like a golden retriever with caffeine in his system. Everyone’s loosening up, laughing, yelling across the sand.

You’re standing with Sunghoon, sipping from his can of soda, and trying very hard to subtly adjust your bikini top like it’s not deliberate. But it is.

It keeps slipping a little, well not off, just… shifting. The fabric is damp from ocean water, clinging to the peaks of your nipples. You tug it up again.

Sunghoon notices. But so does Niki.

You catch both of them watching you at different times. You feel their eyes burn as they trail over your chest, down your waist, over your thighs. It’s hard to breathe, but you smile anyway.

You lean into Sunghoon. Kiss his cheek. He grins, tapping your nose. But Niki’s sunglasses tilt up slightly from where he’s standing. You feel his gaze rake your body like a challenge.

Just then Jay starts calling out teams.

“Alright, me, you” he points to you, “Niki, and Jungwon. Let’s go.”

You pause for half a second, not enough to be noticed, but just enough to feel it in your spine. Niki steps forward, tugging his shirt off in one fluid motion. He spins the volleyball once in his hand and smirks faintly.

Jay tosses him the ball. “We good?”

Niki shrugs. “Yeah.”

No snide comment. No suggestive grin. Just calm. Unbothered.

But when you brush past him to join your side of the net, your shoulder grazes his chest and you swear you feel him inhale.

It’s subtle, but he doesn’t look away.

The court's uneven, half-sand, half-sunbaked grass. The net’s a little crooked. No one cares. Jay serves first; sharp and fast. You barely get your hands up in time, but the ball pops cleanly into the air. Jungwon tips it up. Niki lunges, spikes.

Cheers erupt. “Nice!” Jay claps him on the back.

Niki smiles, his eyebrows subconsciously quirking up, but his eyes flick to you lightning-quick.

Across the net, Heeseung groans. “Alright. No mercy.”

His girlfriend laughs, nudging him.

Sunghoon wipes sweat from his jaw and grins. “Let’s go.”

The game rolls out in bursts sand kicking up, laughter breaking through competitive yells. You’re too aware of everything.

Niki’s footsteps behind you.

The way he moves to cover your side, even when he doesn’t have to. The sharp grunts when he jumps, muscles flexing under sun-warmed skin. How he murmurs “mine” when the ball arcs high, and every time, it hits harder than it should.

You almost trip once trying to pivot.

Niki’s hand touches your back, steadying you, it’s fleeting but firm. You flinch like you’ve been burned.

He says nothing.

But later, when you call out a ball and dive for it, squatting before bending over as you serve the ball lowly, Niki swears low and hard not at the game.

At you. Or maybe for you.

You need water. Not just to drink but to cool down. Everything is hot. Your cheeks, your chest, the way Niki’s eyes follow your movements even when he’s pretending not to.

You step toward the cooler, reach down to grab a bottle.

That’s when you feel it. A whisper of heat. His fingers graze your lower back. Barely. You freeze. He’s behind you now, one arm resting on the lid of the cooler. Not blocking you. Not touching you again. Just close.

His voice is low “Avoiding me again?”

You suck in a breath. Fumble slightly with the cap.

You want to say something biting. Sharp. Dismissive. But your voice comes out too soft, too unsteady.

“I’m not.”

Niki leans in, just an inch closer. “Mm, you always shake this much when you’re not avoiding someone?”

You grip the bottle too tight. “I have a boyfriend.”

His smirk returns slow, almost cruel. “That didn’t stop you from moaning into my mouth last night.”

Your eyes snap up to his, but he’s already walking away. You stand there, holding the water bottle like it might explode.

After the game of volleyball ends (with Sunghoon’s team winning), everyone’s collapsed on the beach towels, salt-streaked and lazy. Jay’s half-asleep. Jungwon’s playing something on his phone. Sunghoon lies beside you, propped up on an elbow.

You’re restless. Overcompensating again. You reach over and thread your fingers into his hair. Lean down to kiss him a bit longer than necessary.

Your tongue just barely traces his bottom lip.

Sunghoon flinches back, blinking.

“Babe,” he says, confused but sweet, “not in front of everyone.”

You smile, trying to play it off. But your mouth is dry.

“Sorry. I just…” You shrug. “Felt like kissing you.”

Sunghoon grins and kisses your cheek instead. Harmless. Soft.

But behind your back, across the circle of towels, Niki’s watching again. Still shirtless. Still silent. His jaw tight, his fingers curled loosely in the sand. He sees everything. And you feel everything.

The sky begins to shift then, almost too fast. What was golden and hazy becomes gray and heavy. You glance up. Thick clouds roll in over the water, veiling the sun. Thunder grumbles low in the distance. A breeze lifts the ends of your hair.

Someone groans.

“Seriously? This early?” Jay complains.

“Guess the ocean playlist’ll have to wait,” Jungwon pouts.

A sudden gust sends sand flies into your shin. You wince, brushing it off.

Sunghoon nudges your side, “movie night?”

You nod automatically, but your eyes flick again to Niki.

Within minutes the group’s scattering, grabbing towels, speakers, empty bottles.

“B2, thirty minutes. Everyone shower unless you wanna smell like death,” Jungwon says, a comically large towel wrapped around his waist as he tries fit five different things in his arms. Heeseung groans but agrees, already hoisting up a cooler.

The mood lightens. Laughter, teasing, towel snaps echoing around you as people head back toward the bungalows.

You stay quiet. Let Sunghoon lace your fingers with his, pull you toward the path. But you can feel the shift in the air. It isn’t just the weather. It’s something heavier. Louder. Waiting to break.

By the time you’re all piled into B2, the rain’s already started. Soft and steady, threading down the windows like something cinematic. This bungalow’s a little bigger than yours, meant for hosting, maybe. The open-plan living room spills into a small kitchen, sleek and sunlit even with the storm outside. At the center of it all is a small burgundy couch. It’s deep enough to sink into, angled so one side stretches toward the kitchen, and the other points toward the mounted flatscreen.

A shaggy rug softens the wood floor. Throw blankets are everywhere, tangled and half-folded. Someone’s dumped a few pillows in the corner. A string of fairy lights buzz faintly over the windows, casting a soft gold haze now that the lamps are off.

It’s cozy. Safe. Or it should be.

Just before the movie starts, you’re rinsing strawberries in the kitchen when Heeseung catches your wrist. Not harsh just enough to pause you.

“You good?” he asks you.

You blink, startled. “Yeah. Why?”

He tilts his head slightly. That familiar half-grin on his lips but his tone’s changed. He’s watching you.

“You and Ni-ki aren’t… weird, right?” he asks, eyes full of sympathy.

You laugh. Too fast. Too thin. “What? No. Why would we be?”

His gaze lingers. Not unkind. But not letting go, either. Heeseung carefully explains, “I noticed he keeps trying to talk to you. You keep slipping away. And honestly?”

He shrugs, “You’re being weird with Sunghoon too. If we’re being real.”

You stare at the cabinet. Like it might open up and swallow you whole.

“I don’t care what’s going on. Just don’t let it get messy. Especially not here.” He softens it with a small smile. Like he’s giving you room to save face.

You nod too quickly. Your palms sweaty. And then you join the rest in the living room, plopping in the center of the couch.

By the time the movie starts, the seating’s already sorted. Jay and Jungwon are curled up on the floor with a blanket pulled over their legs, sitting cross-legged with a bowl of popcorn between them. Heeseung and his girlfriend are on the smaller love seat, arms tucked around each other, their view of the TV clear, but not the couch behind them.

And then there’s the main couch. It’s closest to the kitchen, and furthest from the screen. You, Sunghoon, and Niki end up there.

It’s kind of crowded.

Sunghoon claims the far side, legs kicked out. His arm stretches behind your back, lazily. You squeeze into the center cushion. Niki takes the end.

He doesn’t say much. Just sits there. One arm draped along the top of the couch, the other curled into his lap. Eyes half-lidded. Calm.

Rain lashes against the windows as the movie starts, some pretentious black-and-white thing Jungwon begged for. Everyone’s piled into the main room of B2, wrapped in throw blankets, half-limp from sun and salt and too many chips.

You hear a few groans as the movie opens up in a black and white picture and Nosferatu – the oldest version, starts playing.

There’s barely space. The couch is too small. You’re wedged between Sunghoon and Niki. Sunghoon tuggs you into his side, his arm around your shoulders. Niki shifts closer, silent. The blanket from the back of the couch gets pulled over your legs, accidentally shared.

You should say something.

But you don’t. The movie drones on and on. Someone snores lightly. A bowl clinks from the kitchen.

You feel the blanket shift. Niki’s hand brushes yours under the fabric. You flinch but don’t pull away. He pauses, but when you don’t pull back, he takes your hand. Guides it down, slow and steady, until your palm is cupping him through his shorts.

He’s already hard.

Your breath hitches. You glance once toward Sunghoon. He’s half-asleep, lips parted, breath warm on your neck .

Niki leans in, mouth near your ear. “Go ahead. Pretend you’re not dying for it,” He whispers, his breath tickling you neck, goosebumps rise.

His fingers slip beneath your waistband. Push inside.

You gasp, barely. Bite your lip so hard it hurts.

“So wet already,” he murmurs, nuzzling into your neck. “Are you this soaked from playing the perfect girlfriend? Or because you know I’m going to fuck you right here?”

Niki’s fingers on your clit are slow. Cruel. Tiny circles, teasing, not giving you enough. Just reminding you who can make you this way. Turned into a puddle through simple touch.

The room is dark, except for the flickering light of the movie and the occasional flash of lightning outside. Thunder rumbles low and slow, like it’s warning you. Across from you Heeseung and his girlfriend, curled on a love seat, half-asleep. Jungwon and Jay are tangled together on the floor under a mountain of blankets. And beside you, too close is Sunghoon, with his arm still lazily slung over your shoulder.

Your head is spinning.

You grasp Niki through his shorts, fondle him. A smile tugs on your lips when you feel him twitch under your touch.

He presses down on your clit more firmly now, finger sliding down your slit to your hole. You subtly scooch closer to him. Sunghoon’s arm around your shoulders slides off, but before he can say something you angle your body towards him and slightly lay your head on his shoulder/bicep. It’s somewhat awkward since you’re’ still in an upright sitting position but you don’t notice any discomfort.

Because Niki’s starts pushing your panties aside. Then, he slowly, forcefully bullies his dick into you. No prep. No fingering.

You nuzzle your head into Sunghoon to prevent yourself from making any noise. He thinks you’re scared of the movie, patting your head while whispering a small ‘cute.’

Meanwhile Niki sheaths himself into you so deep you’re shaking from the stretch. From the silence. From how still he is.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t need to. One arm’s casually thrown over the back of the couch. The other is under the blanket. Hidden, anchored around your hip like he owns it.

Owns you.

And in a way he does, because he starts pulling you closer to him. So much bigger than you, it’s easy for him to do that. You couldn’t stop him now even if you wanted to, your brain turned into mush because of the dizzying and pleasurable stretch of Niki’s dick deep inside you.

“Feel that?” he murmurs near your ear, low enough only you can hear. “No one has a clue. You’re so tiny, I can get away with anything.”

You clamp down unintentionally. He feels it.

His breath stutters. “God. You’re so fucking tight.” He bites down on your shoulder to stop himself from moaning.

You gasp and squeeze your eyes shut. But the tension in your body gives you away. He knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

His lips graze your ear again, words like smoke and sin “They’re all right here. Sunghoon. Jay. Heeseung. If one of them turns around…”

He shifts inside you, just a little. Grinding his hips frustratingly slow into you “…they’d see the way I’ve got you stuffed full. Dripping. Shaking.”

You dig your nails into his thigh under the blanket. He doesn’t stop.

“I could make you come like this,” Niki breathes, voice darker now. “Without moving. Without touching anything but this.” He squeezes your hip possessively. “You’d fall apart, right in front of your boyfriend. And he’d never know.”

You want to scream. Instead, your breath comes in shallow, silent waves.

“Ignored me all day,” Niki murmurs, his tone bitter now, jagged. “But now you’re letting me fuck you inches from his face?”

The weight of it presses down on you, the reality. The risk. If Sunghoon moved just a little… leaned forward even slightly… They’d all know.

Niki’s hand slides up past your stomach, under your shirt, palming your breast. Rough. Familiar. His fingers pinch your nipple hard and you twitch.

“Say his name,” Niki growls into your neck.

You whisper it. Quiet. Shaky. Like you’re afraid it’ll break the spell.

His grip tightens. “Now say mine.”

You don’t. So he thrusts once. Deep. Sharp.

Your breath hitches, eyes fluttering. A quiet noise escapes before his hand slaps gently over your mouth.

“Say it.”

You do. “Niki.”

His head drops to your shoulder and you feel it in the way he exhales against your skin. Like your voice undid him. Like hearing his name on your lips makes it all worth it. His dick feels even stiffer in you, you push back against his strong frame.

Outside, the rain’s gotten louder, wind pushing against the glass. Inside, the couch creaks once. But no one stirs.

And that’s when he starts to move. Tiny thrusts. Barely-there movements. But you feel all of it. The stretch. The pervertedness. The weight of him claiming you in the same room as everyone else.

He fucks you like it’s punishment. And it kind of is, for running, for pretending, for not saying his name sooner. One hand over your mouth. The other wrapped firmly around your throat, fingers curled just under your jaw like a tether.

And you. You’re falling apart. Silently. Desperately. Completely. Because this isn’t just sex. You’re his. Even here. Even now.

Especially now.

He spills inside of you, biting on your shoulder as he does so. You squeeze your eyes shut so hard the room spins when you open them again. You stay connected like that for the rest of the movie. Niki’s length has gone flaccid, but his girth, his thickness… you still felt too full of him.

By the end of the movie, the room is nearly silent. The credits flicker across the screen in eerie black and white, accompanied by soft thunder outside. Niki slips out, fixing your panties and his boxers. You feel cum ooze out of you, sticking to your panties. Jay’s asleep on the floor. Jungwon’s curled under a blanket, half-awake. Heeseung and his girlfriend are whispering something to each other, focused completely on one another.

But on the couch you, Sunghoon, and Niki have somehow ended up tangled together.

Sunghoon’s arm is back around you, head heavy against your shoulder. Niki’s hand rests loosely on your thigh, like it’s nothing. Like he didn’t just ruin you in the shadows of this very couch. You’re stiff between them. Smiling. Laughing at something dumb Jungwon muttered as the lights come back on.

You play your part. You always do.

Everyone stands. Stretches. Groggy and full of popcorn, ready to go to bed and collapse. You follow them, grabbing your phone off the counter. Just before you head out, it vibrates.

[seungie 🌀]:

hey glad you and niki are good now things feel less weird hoon looks happy too proud of you 🫶🏽

You stare at the screen. Three words echo in your head like a curse ‘proud of you’. Your heart sinks. Your stomach flips. Niki brushes past behind you as you freeze and you feel the smallest tap of his fingers against your back.

A reminder. A thank-you. A secret. You smile. You type back.

[You]:

yeah. all good now :)

And you follow Sunghoon outside.

You feel different in the morning. You wait for the guilt to hit you, wait for the sense of responsibility to weigh down on you. But it never does.

You feel happy, Sunghoon sees it too, as you eat breakfast with the boys like your body doesn’t still ache from what happened on the couch hours before.

Sunghoon nudges your arm with his and grins around a mouthful of toast.

“Damn, baby. This vacation’s been good to you. You look all… glowy and relaxed.”

You glance at him, hiding a smile in your coffee.

He leans in, peering at your face.

“Like, really pretty. I don’t know — it’s cute.”

You blink innocently. “Must be the ocean air.”

Across the table, Niki doesn’t look up from his plate. He spears a slice of mango, pops it into his mouth.

Then, effortlessly he says “Yeah, she looks good when she’s been taken care of.”

Your breath hitches.

But Sunghoon just nods in agreement, oblivious. “Right? I knew this trip would be good for her.”

Niki’s eyes flick up. Just for a second. Right at you.

And there’s nothing innocent about the smirk curling at the edge of his lips.

Your stomach flips. Not with guilt, not anymore. That’s the strange part. The guilt should be there. But it isn’t.

Maybe it burned off sometime in the night, in the warmth of Niki’s breath on your neck, the ache of him inside you while Sunghoon’s arm was draped over your shoulder. Maybe it’s because Sunghoon still smiles at you like nothing’s wrong. Maybe it’s because nothing feels wrong.

Niki’s just helping you scratch an itch you could never ask anyone else to touch. It’s only physical and you would make sure it would never be deeper than that. You were still Sunghoon’s. And Niki, he’s just helping you scratch an itch. A very deep and needy itch.

You take another sip of coffee and peek at Niki. He’s licking mango from his thumb. It’s ridiculous, how something so small makes your thighs press together under the table.

“You want the last one?” he asks casually, holding up the final piece.

You shake your head. “All yours.”

His smile is lazy. “Didn’t know you weren’t into sharing.”

Sunghoon, doesn’t look up from his plate. “She’s not. Don’t let her fool you — she’ll stab you over fries.”

“Only if they’re mine first,” you add sweetly, leaning toward Niki just slightly. His knee bumps yours under the table. You don’t pull away.

Eventually, Sunghoon pushes his plate back and stretches. “Alright, I’m gonna shower. You guys start packing, yeah?”

“Sure,” you chirp, too fast.

The moment the bathroom door clicks shut, you glance at Niki.

He’s still chewing, watching you with slow, cautious eyes. Like he doesn’t want to assume anything. Like he doesn’t believe this is real yet.

You stand. Don’t think. Just move.

You pad down the hallway. Leave the bedroom door open just long enough for him to see you slip inside. And you don’t wait.

You strip your shirt first. Then your shorts. By the time he reaches the doorframe, you’re sitting in your and Sunghoon’s bed in nothing but your panties.

He exhales something between a laugh and a curse. Steps in. Closes the door.

“You’re not serious.”

You cock your head. “I’m naked in his bed. What do you think?”

He walks to you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he moves too fast.

His voice is low. Rough. Almost reverent. “You really want this?”

You nod. “I want you.”

His gaze dips to the mattress beneath you. His mouth twists like he’s trying not to smile. “In his bed,” he mutters, half to himself.

You smile, slow and wicked. “Didn’t want you thinking I’d change my mind.”

Niki lets out a breath, close to shaking. Then he laughs, low and stunned.

“You’re fucking crazy,” he says, moving closer. But there’s something in his voice, something cracked open. Relieved, like he was afraid you would run away from him again. It’s like he’s finally sure. Like he finally believes he’s not just your secret, he’s your choice.

You go on all fours, angling your ass towards him. Niki steps closer, softly fondling your ass, as if he’s trying to memorize every curve, every dip.

“Fuck,” he breathes, climbing onto the bed like a man starving. “You have no idea what that does to me.”

He flips you so you’re laying on your back and you grab him by the shirt and pull him down to kiss you.

It’s filthy instantly all tongue, no hesitation, teeth clicking as you both try to taste too much too fast. He groans into your mouth and presses you back into the mattress, body already hard against you.

He bites at your jaw.

You grab his hand and shove it between your legs. “I’ve been wet for you since I woke up.”

His breath stutters.

Then he flips you fast, chest to the mattress, ass in the air. His palms spread your cheeks without hesitation. And he laughs. Dark. Disbelieving.

“Fucking perfect,” he mutters. You hear a ripping sound, your panties slipping off of you. And Niki doesn’t even apologize, he just bends down, your ass in his face.

You whimper as his mouth drops down, tongue sliding over your folds, teasing, tasting. Until he’s devouring you from behind. Tongue fucking your pussy, then higher, licking over your asshole like he’s lost all control.

“Niki—fuck—” you gasp, he pushes his middle and ring finger between your mushy walls.

“You let me do this in his bed,” he groans. “So filthy. You want me to fuck you here?”

“Yes—please—” you plead, in hurry now too, Niki scissors inside of you. Prepping you for his thick length.

When he pulls back, he’s stroking himself slowly.

“Bet you’d let me in your ass if I asked nicely.”

You whine, burying your face in the sheets.

His hand comes down on your ass, a soft slap. “Don’t hide now. Not after this.”

“Next time,” you manage. “Just—fuck me. Please.”

“Oh, baby,” he grins, lining up behind you. “I’ll make you beg for it next time.”

And then, he pushes in. All of him, all at once.

No fear of being caught, knowing Sunghoon needs at least 20 minutes to shower. No need to muffle the way your breath breaks. You moan into the mattress, and he just holds your hips tighter.

“So tight,” he growls. “Like your cunt knows who owns it.”

He fucks you hard, dragging your body back into each thrust, hair wrapped in his fist so your mouth brushes his ear when you moan.

“Say it again,” he pants. “Say you want me.”

“I want you.”

“Louder.”

“I want you.”

He flips you again. Your back hits the mattress. Your legs spread wide.

He thrusts in deep and holds.

“Look at me.”

You do.

Eyes locked, he fucks you like it’s the last time. Hard, slow, deep. Like he’s memorizing every sound, every clench, every twitch of your hips under his.

He doesn’t break eye contact. Not even when you come.

Not even when he does, pulling out and finishing across your chest with a grunt, panting above you, his name still wet on your lips.

You don’t wipe it off. You just pull him down. Kiss the corner of his mouth. And stay.

Because now?

Now you’re not pretending. Now you both know the truth. The sheets are still warm when you slip out of bed. Your legs ache. Your chest is sticky. And your heart is an echo chamber. Loud and quiet at once. You don't say anything to Niki as you wipe yourself clean. He doesn't try to stop you. You think he gets it. That you have to reassemble the version of you that belongs to someone else.

By the time Sunghoon comes out of the shower, towel slung low on his hips, you're in a hoodie. Hair damp. Smile practiced. Niki’s gone from the bedroom, like he never came at all.

The front of B2 buzzes with the quiet chaos of departure. Suitcases thud against gravel. The sky is overcast, the air heavy with leftover rain and that weird post-vacation stillness like everyone’s trying to delay the inevitable.

Jay and Jungwon are finishing their last photo op, laughing at the blurry selfie timer results. Heeseung’s girlfriend is squatting next to the trunk trying to zip her overstuffed duffel while muttering under her breath.

Niki is arguing with Sunghoon over who left the aux cord behind. Loudly.

“Bro, I swear I gave it to you yesterday.”

“No, you left it on the porch table. Like a dumbass.”

“You were literally DJing from my playlist.”

“Yeah, because your music’s decent for once.”

“You’re welcome.”

You smile into your hoodie, watching them shove each other lightly between loading bags. There’s no tension between them. No suspicion. If anything, they’re closer after this trip.

A hand on your shoulder pulls you out of the moment.

It’s Heeseung.

“You good?” he asks softly.

You nod, almost too quickly. “Yeah.”

His gaze holds steady. “You seem lighter.”

You blink.

“Whatever was going on before…” He glances toward Niki who’s now making a dumb face at Sunghoon behind the car, then back to you. “Glad you figured it out. You look better.”

There’s a beat of silence. A breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

You smile, soft and quiet. “Thanks, Heeseung.”

He just nods.

Eventually, the group breaks apart with lazy goodbyes. Jay hugs you like a big brother. Jungwon thanks you again for organizing everything. Heeseung’s girlfriend waves from the passenger seat, already applying lip balm.

And then it’s just the three of you left.

Sunghoon slaps the roof of the car like a dad and grins. “Alright, losers. Time to hit the road.”

You’re halfway to the front seat when Niki tugs the door handle ahead of you. “Shotgun.”

Sunghoon narrows his eyes. “You’re seriously calling it?”

“You drove my playlist into the ground,” Niki shrugs, already sliding in. “This is penance.”

Sunghoon groans but gives in, climbing into the driver’s side. “Unreal.”

You climb into the back, the leather still warm from the sun.

Niki glances back at you briefly. “You sure you don’t wanna swap?”

You smirk. “I’m good for now.”

Sunghoon starts the engine, windows cracked to let in the humid breeze. As he pulls onto the road, the bungalow shrinking behind you, Niki kicks his feet up.

“Try not to get carsick this time. I’m not cleaning anything,” Sunghoon tells him, teasingly.

“I’ll throw up on your playlist.”

Niki glances back at you, smirking. “Last chance, you sure you don’t wanna sit up front? Might get lonely back there.”

You smile lazily, stretching out. “I like the view from here.”

“Thought you get crancky in the back,” he says, twisting around in his seat just a little.

You tilt your head. “Only when I’m bored.”

He raises an eyebrow. “So basically whenever Sunghoon talks.”

“Hey,” Sunghoon says, starting the engine. “Disrespecting your driver? Bold move.”

“You’re not a driver,” Niki fires back. “You’re a menace with a license.”

“Keep talking and I’ll hit every pothole from here to Seoul.”

You laugh, light and unbothered, resting your head against the window.

Niki glances back at you again, conspiratorial. “If I end up puking, I’m aiming for your knees.”

You deadpan, “Joke’s on you. I brought wet wipes.”

He mock-gags. “You’re disgusting.”

“You started it.”

Sunghoon cuts in with a snort, shaking his head. “God, you two are so annoying.”

But there’s no edge to it, just fondness, worn-in and easy. You catch the way his reflection softens in the rearview mirror, eyes crinkling slightly. His shoulders relaxed.

He’s happy. They both are. And so are you.

The road curves out of the bungalow’s driveway, tires crunching over wet gravel. Trees blur past. It’s quiet, save for the faint hum of the engine and the soft playlist Sunghoon has playing. One of those moody acoustic mixes. Your throat tightens at the lyrics.

Niki shifts in the passenger seat beside Sunghoon, exhaling sharply. He leans his head back against the headrest, eyes squinting toward the window.

“Dude,” he says after a beat, voice low and a little strained. “I think I’m getting carsick again.”

Sunghoon turns briefly to glance at him, brows pinched. “Seriously? You were fine earlier.”

“Yeah, well,” Niki sighs. “Something about your tragic-ass music and winding roads. Not vibing.”

“You’re so dramatic,” Sunghoon mutters, but he’s already pulling over.

You stay quiet, curled against the side window in the back, pretending to be asleep.

“Is she out?” Niki asks, peeking behind the seat.

Sunghoon lowers his voice. “Looks like it. Just crash back there, it’s fine. But if you puke on my upholstery—”

“I won’t,” Niki says, already unbuckling his seatbelt. “I’ll aim for your sweater.”

Sunghoon groans as Niki climbs out and slides open the back door. You don’t open your eyes, just shift slightly, your legs curled up.

Niki settles in next to you without a word, sitting directly behind the passenger seat (you’re behind the driver’s seat). Carefully. Quietly. The door shuts, muffling the outside world again.

“Better?” Sunghoon calls back once they’re moving again.

“Yeah,” Niki answers, voice relaxed now. “Much.”

You don’t reach for Niki. Not at first. Not until twenty minutes pass and the silence gets thick again. You shift in your seat. Let your hand rest on his thigh.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t even blink.

You lean in anyway, close enough for your breath to brush his jaw. “You’re quiet.”

No answer. You squeeze gently. “Pretending to sleep?” A beat. “Or just sulking because I didn’t kiss you goodbye?”

You feel it, the slow inhale. The way his body tenses just slightly under your touch.

“You’re gonna drive me crazy,” he murmurs finally. Voice low. Rough. But quiet enough that Sunghoon, humming along to some song up front, doesn’t notice.

You smile. Let your fingers trace idle shapes over his thigh. “You knew what this was,” you whisper. “You knew I wasn’t done with him.”

He doesn’t pull away. Doesn’t argue. But after a second, he turns his head, eyes half-lidded and focused fully on you. “I didn’t think you’d do this.”

You just tilt your head. “Do what?”

“Pull me into his bed,” he says, voice like gravel, “then hold my hand in the car like nothing happened.”

You shrug, eyes sparkling. “I didn’t hear you complaining.”

A dry laugh escapes him. No humor, just surrender. “I don’t even know what I am to you.”

You lean in. Closer. Your lips graze the edge of his jaw.

“You’re mine,” you say softly. “Even if I don’t belong to just you.”

His hand finds yours again, locking your fingers together, tighter this time. Not asking, just taking. Letting himself want, even if it’s not enough.

“You’re messed up,” he mutters, almost fondly. “You know that?”

You grin. “And you’re still here.”

He huffs a soft, bitter laugh. “Yeah,” he says. “I’m still here.”

And he will be. Even if he’s just your secret. Even if it eats him alive. Because this time, he doesn’t let go. And neither do you.

2K notes · View notes

danysdaughter · 16 days ago

Text

The Education Of James Buchanan Barnes

pairing | post!tfatws!bucky x fem!reader

word count | 2.7k words

summary | bucky asked to learn about edging—he just didn’t expect to be blindfolded, tied to a bed, and brought to the brink twice before even getting inside you.

tags | (18+) MDNI, unprotected sex, p in v, edging, orgasm denial, begging, 69 position, face sitting, oral sex (receiving and giving), restraints, bondage, blindfolds, dom/sub elements, reader is a teasing little shit, accidental orgasm, post-nut confessions, friends to lovers, dirty talk

a/n | by popular demand. maybe a series. I actually have part 3 done, it's over 4k words, will post it maybe Tues or Wed

Taglist | if you wanna be added to my bucky barnes masterlist just add your username to my taglist

likes comments and reblogs are much appreciated ✨✨

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏɴᴇ - ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ - ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ

divider by @cafekitsune

His arms were stretched above him, wrists bound to the headboard with silk scarves—deep blue, smooth, soft, but knotted just tight enough to hold.

“Too tight?” you asked, fingers brushing over the delicate bindings, eyes flicking down to his face.

Bucky looked up at you, his bare chest rising slow with each breath. He tugged lightly—testing them—then gave you a crooked smirk.

“I could snap these in half if I wanted.”

Your brow lifted. “But you won’t.”

His smirk faded just slightly, replaced by something softer. More hesitant. “Are you sure about this?”

You leaned over him, your thighs straddling his hips, hair falling like a curtain between you as your voice dropped low.

“You said you wanted to know what edging was like,” you murmured, your fingers skating down the center of his chest. “I figured we’d learn in real time.”

He shifted beneath you, bound but still twitchy. “I read about it,” he muttered. “Didn’t sound very nice.”

You grinned, slow and wicked. “It’s not supposed to be nice. It’s supposed to be maddening.”

His eyes flicked to yours—nervous, excited, turned on out of his mind.

You leaned in closer, voice brushing his ear.

“It’s delayed gratification. Every time I get you close and pull away? The orgasm you finally get will be so much better.”

He exhaled hard.

Your hand slid lower.

“And if you’re good—” your mouth grazed his jaw, “I’ll let you come while your mouth is buried between my legs.”

His hips bucked instinctively, and the scarves tugged tight above him.

You smiled.

“Oh—and this,” you murmured.

Bucky tensed as you reached behind you and pulled out a strip of black fabric. Smooth. Soft. Purposeful.

“What the hell are you doing?” he asked, eyes narrowing just a little.

You leaned in again, lips inches from his as you began tying the blindfold behind his head. “Enhancing your senses. Or something.”

“Or something?”

“It’s very scientific,” you said seriously, even as your grin gave you away. “Like, ninety percent of your brain’s sexual response is... sensory rerouting. Or whatever.”

He huffed. “That’s not a real thing.”

“Sounds real enough,” you said, finishing the knot.

He blinked under the blindfold, adjusting against the headboard, visibly trying to breathe through this new shift. He was hard already—still—and growing more tense by the second.

“You don’t even know what you’re doing, do you?” he muttered, voice low.

You shrugged, that wicked smile creeping across your lips. “Nope. But hey—first time for everything.”

He opened his mouth to protest again, probably to suggest something logical, like a safe word, or releasing one wrist just in case—

But you didn’t give him the chance.

You leaned in and kissed him, hard and slow, your lips moving over his with purpose.

To shut him up. To distract him. To take control.

And when he moaned into your mouth, wrists tugging slightly against the scarves again?

You knew you had him.

You shifted lower, settling between his legs, the sheets rustling softly beneath your knees. Bucky lay perfectly still, jaw tight, hands flexing uselessly in their restraints. The blindfold kept his lashes fluttering, the rest of his face caught somewhere between restraint and pleading.

You reached for the waistband of his boxers.

“Gonna take these off now,” you said quietly, voice like silk. “That okay?”

His head nodded once—shaky, deliberate. “Yeah. Yeah.”

You hooked your fingers into the waistband and slowly, painfully slowly, began to peel the fabric down his hips. His breath hitched. The elastic caught momentarily on his cock, and then it sprang free—thick, flushed, leaking at the tip.

Your breath caught.

You dragged the boxers down his thighs, then all the way off, letting your eyes drink him in as you tossed them aside.

God, he was beautiful.

Strong, thick thighs spread wide beneath you, all that power gone pliant. His abs tensed as you let your fingers drift gently down his hip, over his inner thigh.

Your gaze dropped to his cock—hard and straining, flushed deep red at the tip, the vein along the underside throbbing. He was leaking freely now, precum smeared across his lower stomach, the kind of mess that made your mouth water.

You reached for him.

Wrapped your hand around the base—warm, heavy, pulsing in your palm.

He groaned, deep and broken.

Your thumb slid over the tip, gathering the slick there, and you started to stroke—slow, languid, base to tip and back again, no rush, just pressure. Measured. Precise.

He twitched in your grip.

His whole body arched slightly, restrained and helpless, breath pouring out in ragged gasps.

“You’re so hard,” you whispered, stroking him a little faster. “All from just a few little touches.”

“Jesus—” he breathed. “You’re driving me insane.”

You smirked, leaning closer, breath ghosting over the head of his cock.

“Good. That means it’s working.”

You kept stroking—slow at first, deliberately teasing, your hand sliding up and down his cock in smooth, controlled movements. The slick from his own arousal made each pass easier, messier. His breath hitched each time your grip tightened near the head, every movement wringing another helpless sound from his throat.

“Shit,” Bucky groaned, arching his back slightly, wrists pulling tight against the silk restraints. “Feels so good…”

You smiled, leaning forward, letting your lips hover just above the head of his cock, not touching—not yet.

Then you picked up the pace.

Your strokes grew faster, more purposeful. Your other hand cupped his balls, gently massaging, rolling them in your palm with just enough pressure to make him twitch.

His thighs tensed beneath you.

“Oh fuck,” he gasped, hips jerking, muscles locking tight as you worked him faster. “Don’t stop—don’t—fuck, I’m—”

You stopped.

Just like that. Your hand left him.

He cried out, an almost desperate, broken sound escaping his throat as he bucked into the empty air.

“No—” he groaned. “Fuck—why—why did you stop?”

You sat back, slowly licking your fingers, watching his cock twitch helplessly in front of you.

“Because,” you said softly, “that was the edge.”

He panted, face turned toward the ceiling, chest rising and falling like he’d just run ten miles.

“That—was cruel.”

You grinned. “That was the first lesson.”

You leaned in close again, lips brushing his jaw.

“Now we do it again.”

You watched him pant beneath you, cock flushed, pulsing against his stomach, his whole body trembling with frustration and heat.

You reached up and gently tugged the blindfold away.

His eyes blinked open—glassy, wrecked, beautiful.

“Think you can handle more?” you asked softly, brushing damp hair from his forehead.

He swallowed, throat working. “Depends what you’re planning.”

You smiled.

Then shifted—slow and deliberate—climbing over him.

Straddling his chest.

His eyes widened just slightly as you braced your knees on either side of his head, your dripping core hovering just above his mouth.

“I was thinking…” you purred, lowering yourself just enough that he could smell you, “you could eat me out while I suck your cock.”

His mouth parted, breath catching.

“Are you serious?”

You smirked. “Bucky. You begged for this. You fantasized about it.”

His hands flexed in their restraints, body tense beneath you.

“You wanna taste me?” you asked, your voice low, sultry.

“Fuck—yes,” he said, already trying to lift his head. “Please.”

You lowered yourself slowly, your pussy brushing his lips—and he groaned, hands pulling at the scarves, tongue darting out instantly to lick a firm stripe through your folds.

The moment his mouth closed around your clit, your breath hitched.

And you rewarded him.

Sliding down his body, you reached for his cock again, wrapping your hand around him, stroking slow.

Then your mouth followed.

Warm.

Wet.

Deep.

He moaned into your pussy, tongue flicking desperately against your clit as you swallowed him down, your mouth working in rhythm with the roll of your hips against his face.

The sound of his groaning against you while your mouth dragged over the length of him? Filthy.

Perfect.

You were both shaking now, caught in that beautiful tension—heat, friction, mouths and hands and bodies tangled in something raw and so fucking good.

You moaned around him as his tongue curled inside you.

And he bucked beneath you, completely gone.

You lowered yourself fully onto his face, letting him take all of you—and he did, with no hesitation.

Bucky groaned like you were the only thing he’d ever wanted in his mouth, his tongue dragging through your folds in slow, deliberate licks before latching onto your clit with reckless devotion. His lips sealed around you, his tongue flicking, swirling, pressing just right, like he was memorizing the shape of your pleasure.

You gasped around his cock.

Your mouth stretched around him again, tongue flattening beneath the head as you swallowed him deep, slow strokes that made his hips jerk beneath you. You hollowed your cheeks, moaned low around him—just to make it worse—and the sound vibrated up through his length.

He moaned into your pussy, and the vibration alone made your thighs shake.

Your hands gripped his thighs, his hips, anything—but his hands were still tied, his body helpless beneath you. His only weapon was his mouth, and god, was he using it.

Your hips rocked against him in time with your strokes, chasing your high, grinding into his face as he feasted on you like he couldn’t breathe without it.

“Just like that,” you gasped around him. “Fuck—Bucky—”

You felt it building.

The tight coil deep in your belly, his mouth never stopping, his tongue relentless.

You sucked him deeper.

Faster.

And just as he groaned again—vibrating with desperation—you came.

Hard.

Your entire body clenched, thighs trembling around his head, back arching as your orgasm crashed through you like fire. You cried out, lips parting around his cock, head tilting back as the pleasure pulsed through every nerve ending.

Bucky groaned—his tongue still lapping, still savoring every last drop of you.

And then?

You pushed up.

Lifted your hips off his face.

Pulled your mouth off his cock with a slick pop.

His hips jerked upward.

“Fuck—no—” he gasped, voice ragged, cock twitching in your hand. “I was—please—I was so fucking close—”

You smirked, breathless, licking your lips as you sat up on his thighs.

“I know.”

You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, glancing down at his flushed, twitching cock.

“Lesson two: just because you got me off, doesn’t mean you get yours.”

He groaned in agony, head tipping back against the pillows, chest heaving.

And still—his cock was hard.

So very hard.

Bucky was trembling beneath you.

Sweat slicked his chest, his abs tight, his cock flushed an angry red as it twitched helplessly against his stomach. His jaw was clenched, mouth parted, breath ragged like he was barely hanging on.

And he wasn’t.

His wrists flexed again in the restraints—not from frustration now, but need. Desperate, aching need.

“C’mon, baby,” he rasped, his voice low and cracked and wrecked. “Please. Please—give it to me. I need it.”

You tilted your head, your lips curling in that familiar, wicked grin.

“What do you need, Sergeant?”

His eyes locked on yours, burning with something raw. Unfiltered.

“You. Inside you. Now.”

You let the silence hang for just a second longer.

Then finally—finally—you shifted.

Your hands braced on his chest as you lifted yourself, hovered above him, your dripping core poised right over the tip of his cock.

His eyes blew wide.

He felt it—the heat of you, the way your folds barely brushed his head.

“Fuck—fuck—please—”

You lowered yourself slowly, letting the very tip of him slide inside you—just barely.

And that was all it took.

The second you sank down even an inch, his whole body locked.

His back arched, his head fell back, and he let out a deep, broken groan—like it was being ripped from his chest.

And then he came.

Hard.

Hot.

Sudden.

“Oh—fuck—” he choked, his hips jerking up once involuntarily as he spilled inside you, cock pulsing helplessly as he gasped through the high.

You froze—eyes wide—as you felt it.

The heat.

The rush.

His orgasm hitting you in one unexpected, uncontrolled, wrecking wave.

You stared down at him, lips parted in shock, your body still poised above him with only the tip inside.

He blinked up at you, dazed and red-faced, voice hoarse.

“…Shit.”

You blinked again.

Then grinned.

“Oh my god,” you whispered, barely able to hide the gleeful amusement in your voice.

You blinked once.

Then again.

“…Did you just?”

Bucky stared up at you, wide-eyed, flushed, completely wrecked.

“No,” he said immediately, too fast. Too flat.

You raised a brow.

“That is probably the worst lie ever spoken in the history of existence.”

He opened his mouth like he might argue.

But then your body shifted just slightly—and you felt it.

The warmth.

The evidence.

“Considering I can feel your cum inside me,” you said sweetly, “you wanna try that one again?”

He groaned, dragging his hands—still tied—to the sides of his head like he could disappear into the mattress.

You smiled, all smug satisfaction and teasing heat.

“Well,” you murmured, “at least we learned something tonight.”

He peeked at you through his fingers. “Yeah?”

You leaned down, kissed the corner of his mouth, soft and smug.

“You’re terrible at edging.”

You reached up, your fingers gently undoing the knots around his wrists. The silk slipped free easily, falling in soft coils onto the sheets. He groaned quietly as his arms dropped to his sides, muscles loose, completely spent.

You lay down beside him, cheek resting against his shoulder, your body still warm and glowing, every nerve thrumming from everything you’d just done.

He stayed quiet, chest rising slowly beneath your hand.

Then you tilted your head, glanced up at him with a sly smile.

“So…” you said, voice low and lazy. “How was it?”

He let out a breathless laugh—half-mortified, half-stunned. “Like being emotionally mugged by my own dick.”

You snorted, burying your face in his shoulder. “That’s… definitely going in the quote book.”

Then, after a moment, you felt his fingers twitch slightly against your waist.

He cleared his throat.

You glanced up, catching the tiny flicker of hesitation in his expression.

He was thinking.

Hard.

And that alone made you smirk. “What? Got another fantasy to confess?”

But his voice was quieter this time. Not sheepish. Just… uncertain.

“I was actually wondering,” he said slowly, like he was piecing the sentence together in real time, “if you… maybe… would want to go out with me?”

Your brows lifted in surprise.

You turned your head on his shoulder, looked up at him. His cheeks were flushed—still pink from the exertion, the orgasm, the confession.

“You mean like... a date?” you asked, eyes searching his.

He gave a short, nervous huff of laughter, eyes flicking up to the ceiling.

“Yeah. I just…” He shifted a little, like the words didn’t sit quite right in his mouth yet. “I don’t want this to just be sex. Or whatever this is. I like being around you. Even when you're impossible. Especially then.”

Your teasing grin softened just a bit. He was rambling. And adorable.

“You’re asking me now?” you said, one brow arched. “While I’m literally still dripping with your cum?”

His jaw dropped slightly, horror and exasperation all mixed in. “Jesus Christ—don’t say it like that—”

You leaned up, kissed him just below the corner of his mouth, still grinning. “Relax, Sarge.”

Then you met his eyes, warm and open.

“Of course I’ll go out with you.”

His whole body relaxed under you, like a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding finally let go.

You nuzzled closer, dropping your head back on his chest, sighing dramatically.

“But you are buying dinner. Since you came before the real show even started.”

He groaned. “You’re never letting that go, are you?”

You smirked.

“Not a chance.”

He turned his head toward you, eyes soft now, sleepy but focused. “You are amazing.”

You grinned. “Obviously.”

A beat passed.

Then his hand slid over your waist, pulling you a little closer.

“Redemption round tomorrow?”

You kissed his jaw, sweet and slow.

“We’ll see if you earn it, Sergeant.”

Bucky Barnes Taglist:

@princeescalus @s-sh-ne @winchestert101 @n3ptoonz @jeongiegram @thealloveru2 @avgdestitute @lilac13 @fayeatheart @Leathynn @solana-jpeg @person-005 @muchwita @Ruexj283 @jarnesbames108 @iheartfictionalmen1 @daddyslilbrat962 @bucky-baby-barnes @bonnietate26 @1lorenzo-lover1 @heymydearheart

those who couldn't be tagged are in bold :(

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fluff #james buchanan barnes #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky barnes smut

2K notes · View notes

hoonstrology · 5 days ago

Text

♯┆ERROR 404 .ᐟ word limit reached. [ 박성훈 ]

"i promise myself, while drinking a glass of water in the morning, to tell you. i'll confess what has been on the tip of my tongue tomorrow. you are pretty." — pretty u by seventeen.

꒰ pairing ꒱⠀⠀park sunghoon x fem!reader.

꒰ synopsis ꒱⠀⠀he wouldn't necessarily call himself talkative. sunghoon is just a normal college boy with normal hobbies and interests, so of course he likes talking about those, and he especially likes talking about you— but talking to you? it's an entirely different challenge. and he knows he has to man up and speak up before you get sick of his silence.

꒰ genres ꒱⠀⠀college!au, classmates!au, slow burn-ish, strangers to lovers, lowkey loser!sunghoon, romance, very fluffy, light angst, but a whole lot more comfort, a bit of jealousy, sunghoon is a stupid dumb idiot lover boy. ✮ featuring: enhypen's 02z + heeseung, ive's gaeul and liz, and seventeen's jeonghan. ꒰ warning! ꒱⠀⠀suggestive content, making out, swearing, pet names, alcohol consumption, parties, brief mentions of blood, unintentional self injury, poor attempts at humor, sunghoon is kind of emotionally constipated but in a good way. sunghoon's taller than reader. lmk if i missed anything!

꒰ word count ꒱⠀⠀18.3k words.┆read the teaser here.

꒰ from ! 🐰 yan ꒱⠀⠀my first written work !! i normally write smaus so writing a full oneshot has been daunting. this is my literal brain child so i hope you guys love it as much as i do. i would love to get feedback via asks/replies !! (pls be nice) ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

𝙈𝘼𝙎𝙏𝙀𝙍𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏 ✾ 𝙍𝙀𝘽𝙇𝙊𝙂𝙎 are appreciated.

TODAY MARKED THE FIRST DAY OF YOUR FOUR YEARS IN COLLEGE. you walked past your university’s gates, chin tipped up and proud with a book held close to your chest, thin silver glasses framing your face, and a smile that you spent an entire hour practicing in the mirror yesterday.

you wore the best outfit you could, but not in a trying-hard overdressed kind of way, just enough effort to make you memorable. you wanted to make a good impression, after all.

if you could look lost enough, maybe a senior would notice you. maybe he’d ask for your schedule, walk you to class, make light gossip about the professors you have and in a few years, he’d propose to you in the same spot by the gates, and you’d say i do, and live a happy married lif—

clank!

you get snapped out of your sweet little daydream as pain shoots through your shoulder, down your left arm. “fuck.” you whisper, head snapping up to shoot a frustrated glare at the thick pole in front as if it’s the one who bumped into you.

the impact was hard enough to have your book and glasses falling to the floor with a thud, and definitely hard enough to leave a bruise tomorrow because even merely moving your arm makes you wince.

thankfully, the area was mostly empty— which meant your dream of being a college cool girl was still in play —save for a tall guy just a foot beside you.

shit.

he’s already kneeling down to pick your things up and before you could even bend over to help, he just looks up and gestures to you to stay still by pointing to your outfit. “skirt.” is all he says, his voice deep and quiet.

you’d normally blush at the gentlemanly gesture but instead, you do it out of pure embarrassment.

god, this wasn’t the meet-cute you imagined.

he hands you back your book and your glasses, freshly wiped of dirt from the hem of his faded black hoodie. you slip it on your face again and bow your head out of shame, stepping aside to escape this nightmare of an embarrassment, but before you could even attempt to, he tugs on the sleeve of your cardigan, showing you his open palm like he's telling you to stop.

and against your better judgement, you do.

the stranger slips one of his backpack’s straps off his shoulder, fishing a box out of it and begins scribbling away with a pen cap trapped between his teeth.

you took this time to look at him— really look at him. tall, lean physique, sharp features, fair skin. he wore a pair of black thick-rimmed glasses that framed his kind-looking eyes really well. he’s stylish, no question about that.

and painfully handsome, too.

the pen is closed with a faint click and he slips it back into his hoodie’s pocket and you take that as a sign to stop checking him out lest you embarrass yourself further.

his lips purse into a straight line and his thick eyebrows furrow closer as he gives the box an intense stare, the soft eyes from a while ago turning more serious and stressed as it turns to you, back to the box, and back to you again.

the suffocating silence is shattered by two men shouting from a distance, the shorter one of them comically jumping and waving his hands in the air.

he turns to look at the source of the noise and lets out a small grunt, handing you the box and before jogging away without another word.

you stand there dumbstruck, watching the three boys interact for a while before turning on your heels, slipping the box between your chest and the book. that was odd.

you walk to class with a sore shoulder and cheeks that still feel warm from the whole ordeal. upon finding your room, new faces give you polite smiles or nods of acknowledgement and you do the same. once you're seated and settled, you put the book down on top of your desk.

the forgotten box falls on your lap, urging you to take a closer look at it.

menthol pain relief patches.

you flip the box around and you're greeted by a pastel yellow post-it note stuck on the back.

“for your shoulder. please be careful next time.”

he probably thinks you're a loser with no depth perception. and he wouldn't be wrong for thinking that, but it doesn't stop your cheeks from heating up for the nth time this morning.

you convince yourself it's okay. that your university is big, and you surely you won't meet him again. the fact disappoints you a little bit, but at least you're saved from having to face him after what happened.

you press your fingers against your forehead in stress.

first day in and you’ve already made a fool of yourself in front of a man. not just any man but a handsome one. a very important distinction.

developing a crush feels on him feels pathetic. he just gave you muscle relief patches, an act of kindness that was just a little bit above the bare minimum. and he only said one word to you, for gods’ sake. but you’ve never been one to think logically, so while your lecture starts, your head starts drifting off and it’s already incorporating the good-looking, tall stranger in your romantic fantasies.

turns out, the man in your dreams wouldn’t be a senior, nor would he be gossiping with you about your professors.

instead, you’d be sharing them.

during your third class of the day, the handsome stranger walks in the lecture hall with his two friends in tow and you immediately recognize him because of the glasses. his hands are stuffed into his hoodie as he settles on a seat a couple of rows in front of you, still as intimidating as he looked like when he gave you the box.

you learned of his name when the professor called him to read a passage in the book.

park sunghoon.

you think it’s a pretty name— fitting for a pretty boy like him.

sunghoon’s voice was steady while he read, smoothly pronouncing every word, clearing his throat after a mistake and resuming with the same composure. the speed at which he spoke was just right, slow enough to enunciate every syllable but not too much to bore whoever chose to listen.

"mr. park, care to share your thoughts on what you just read?"

sunghoon only stood straighter, his natural confidence in his voice making you swoon in your seat.

“i don't believe the fable's moral lesson to necessarily be applicable in real life where businesses and industries have become fast-paced. should the readers need to have a takeaway, they should focus on what the hare lacked— humility. his over-confidence is the ultimate reason for his downfall, being a creature that has already been given natural talent and an advantage on the terrain—”

just like that, your small happy crush turned into full-blown attraction. his voice? his eloquence? damn. it’s like he’s trying (and succeeding) to make you want him.

you wish you had sat in front so you could look at him more. you could only imagine how stern he’d look, how his thick brows would meet together making him look even more gorgeous when he’s focused. but for now, you could settle for the view of his back while trying your best to listen to your professor, and not to the voice that suspiciously resembles sunghoon's playing in a constant loop inside your head.

he’s in the rest of your classes today too, which makes the task of focusing twice as hard. you feel like a creep with the way your eyes naturally gravitate to him every time you hear his voice, or when you see a tiny bit of movement from the corner of your eye.

so when it’s almost time to go home, you do the most un-creepy thing you can think of: wait outside the door.

a student, and another, they all step out one by one. then he finally walks out, laughing at something his friend said before freezing mid-sentence as he catches sight of you standing with a familiar box laid out on your palm.

he looked surprised for a moment, before gripping on the single strap hanging on his shoulder, shifting uncomfortably before raising a brow like he was waiting for you to speak.

“oh! i, uh.. i already put some on my shoulder and on my arm a while ago. there’s too much in the pack and i figured i could give it back to you since i don’t really have any use for it.” you explain, pushing it towards him.

one of his friends gasps at the sight, quickly throwing a punch to sunghoon’s shoulder which he receives with a quiet hiss.

“what the fuck, hoon? i was looking for that! you know i have try-outs later!” the boy shouts, his australian accent thick and evident as he snatches the pack from your palm. “tch, can’t believe you lied to me.”

sunghoon gives him a cold stare, taking the patches away again before whispering something to the other boy which resulted in the rowdy blonde getting dragged away by his collar. he flipped the box over once, twice, and raised an eyebrow, seeming to notice that the post-it note was not there anymore.

“is this what you’re looking for?” taking the neatly folded paper from your pocket, you place it on top of the box. “i’m sorry for taking it. i thought it was for me. unless you also have other friends who regularly bump into poles while actively daydreaming and you actually meant to give that to someone els—”

sunghoon cuts you off with his index finger pressed on his own lips. he gives both back to you before flashing you a small smile, one that causes your poor little heart to thump faster.

“for you. keep it.” his words are clipped but you can feel the kindness behind them.

say something, anything, to keep the conversation going.

“i’m y/n, by the way.” you hold your hand out.

“i know. i’m sunghoon.” he murmurs, looking at the hand extended towards him before shaking it.

you sense the slight hesitation but the contact makes you giddy nonetheless. it’s as sweet as it is short lived because sunghoon quickly lets go, hands returning to the safety of his hoodie’s pocket.

“huh? how’d you know? i don’t remember the professor calling me. wait- did he take attendance? shit, i forgot to say present—”

the chuckle he lets out is low and breathy, making the words halt in your mouth. sunghoon shakes his head and his eyes do a quick scan of you before pointing to the small sticker that reads 'yoon y/n's!' on the book you've been holding.

"oh."

another beat of awkward silence.

“uh.. what’s your schedule?” you ask with a kind smile, following sunghoon as he starts walking towards your building's exit, trying not to dwell on how he started walking slower, at the perfect pace for you to keep up with his long strides.

he fishes for his phone to show you the picture and you do the same, eyes looking at your screen then his. “we share most classes! all the ones in the afternoon.” you smile victoriously, and sunghoon releases another quiet chuckle, nodding along.

before you know it, you’ve reached the gate where his friends are waiting. he pauses, squinting his eyes at the duo who suddenly stopped talking to look between you and him, teasing grins plastered on their faces which just made sunghoon rub his temple.

“oh? who is this? a new friend?” the black-haired friend asks, a smirk on his lips while raising an eyebrow at sunghoon.

“y/n.” sunghoon says, pointing to you. “jake.” he points to the blonde boy with an aussie accent, before turning to the tanner friend with a jawline so sharp you’re convinced you’d need more than menthol patches if you touched it. “jay.”

sunghoon must have told them about what happened this morning because they looked at you, eyes scanning you up and down with anflash of amusement showing in their eyes.

“hi.” you give them a shy wave and they return it with a welcoming smile, their hands gently shaking yours.

jake pulls sunghoon away, huddling on one side while whispering, their heads occasionally turning to you every now and then with synchronicity.

“what do you mean that’s her?”

“jake, pipe the fuck down!”

“are they… talking about me?” you turn to jay with raised eyebrows and he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose like he's grown familiar to this scenario. “looks like it. please forgive jake. he’s normally more… discreet when he’s curious about someone.”

yeah, there’s nothing discreet about jake pointing his finger at you with a wide smile. sunghoon, on the other hand, is insistent on pushing jake's hand down with a pretty pink flush on his cheeks, looking like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole. very cute.

“do you guys share all your classes?”

“yeah, we share an apartment so we were together when we chose our classes.”

“so i’d take it that you guys are close?”

jay gives you a nod, eyes fond while he looks at his best friends. “met in middle school— and we’ve unfortunately been inseparable since then.”

“that's cute. must be nice to have people you can rely on already. college is kinda scary.”

“you have us!” jake whispers from beside you, making you scream in surprise at his sudden presence. sunghoon shoots him a sharp glare, tugging on your cardigan for the second time today to pull you by his side.

the golden retriever looking boy presses his palms together, whispering a small apology before handing you his phone.

“sunghoon told me you have afternoon classes with us! so you can give me your number and just reach us whenever. not to brag but i’m the most popular in this trio. i'll text you whenever there’s a party. i'll getcha connected to people in no time.” he adds with a wink, pulling a laugh out of you.

“i think i’ll stick to texting you for home work.” you reply with a roll of your eyes, punching your number in jake’s phone nonetheless.

a few more friendly words are exchanged before they wave you goodbye because jay and jake are going to your college’s basketball try-outs. sunghoon isn’t interested but is supposedly "required by law" to go because he’s their moral support.

you laugh and give both of them a fist bump for good luck before walking away, failing to catch sunghoon’s lingering stare as he watches your figure disappear.

that night, you buried yourself under your duvet, congratulating yourself for surviving your first day of freshman year and making three new friends on top of that.

just then, your phone vibrated.

💬 from: unknown number — this is sunghoon. :)

your friendship with park sunghoon slowly blossomed from that day onward. though your first meeting was full of chaos, the following months were anything but.

much like him, it was calm. respectful, even.

you would give each other a smile when you passed by one another in the mornings, he’d shoot you a text to let you know he reserved the seat next to him when you were running ten minutes late in the afternoon, or you'd remind him of tasks due the next day.

he even offer to accompany you to the university’s library when your friends weren't available, headphones on and only taking it off to tap on your shoulder when he notices you dozing off.

one day, you asked him to grab lunch with you under the pretense of not having anyone to eat with, and then it became routine.

usually it would be just you and sunghoon but the boys would tag along every now and then. he would be noisier during those lunches, and you relished it because that’s the only time you get to see him be so comfortable and rowdy.

you pondered what the cause could be, and eventually landed on a theory during one of your sociology classes.

deindividuation, as your professor called it.

she said being part of a larger group can lead to a sense of reduced personal responsibility and accountability which then causes individuals to feel less inhibited and more likely to engage in behaviors they might not otherwise, including speaking loudly or interrupting.

she basically described sunghoon to a perfect t.

because your friendship with him is quiet. his half of the friendship, to be specific.

you mostly got to know him through mere observation– his habits, things he enjoyed and things he disliked. if you didn’t discover things yourself, his friends would be the one offering sunghoon's information to you like when jay told you he has a younger sister he adored, or when jake told you that he once wanted to go to antarctica, a dream that he left behind after he took an interest in photography.

if you were to type out every word he's said to you for the entirety of your friendship in a continuous line, you’d probably be able to fill four pages of a document in arial 11. maybe five.

if you remember correctly, his longest running sentence is “please walk on the inside part of the sidewalk next time, angel— it’s dangerous.” a yet-to-be defeated record of fourteen words. it was also the first time he called you by a pet name and it had you screaming into your pillow as soon as you got home.

initially, you thought it’d be better to converse with him through text. and it was an improvement, yes– but only by a few notches. you’d be able to make twenty pages with the words he said through the phone, but there were still days where he’d just reply with one word.

or a single emoji.

but sunghoon isn’t nonchalant. far from it, actually.

he laughs at your jokes— he even giggles when it's done to his type of humor. if he sees you stressing out during a pop quiz, he’d slyly push his paper towards you to let you copy his answers. and he already knows to take his sweater off and hand it to you before history class because the heater doesn’t work well in that classroom.

almost always, he’d walk out of the classroom with his bag slung on one of his shoulders and yours on the other with the finesse of someone who's used to being reliable. you’ve never had to open your own water bottles or push through doors either because sunghoon would be the one doing it for you. all of that while wearing a proud smile.

and barely any noise.

when you ask him questions, he’d either hum to affirm, shake his head no, or shrug if he didn’t know the answer. if he’s the one asking you questions, he just gestures with his hands or fingers to get his message across.

one morning when you went to class in a new hairstyle, he pointed to it with raised brows. “ah, just wanted to try something new.” you explained. his reply was a smile and a measly thumbs up.

all that to say, he's an acts-of-service rather than a words-of-affirmation type of guy.

you always try to fill that awful silence between the both of you with endless rambles, and like the reliable person he is, he always listens with a hum here and there to let you know that he was still following your story about how your neighbor scared you shitless by trying to open your door in the middle of the night.

"—he shook the knob so hard i had to call an emergency locksmith. it’s literally the second time he did that this week! and he doesn’t even have the decency to pay me back for the fee!”

by the time you end your tirade, you’re slumped over the café’s table, cheeks squished flat on the smooth surface. he just chuckles and taps on your head with a finger and you raise it slightly. sunghoon places a sheet of tissue down and leans back, allowing you to press your face against the table again, but hygienically this time around.

“you care for my skin more than i do.” you grumble, blowing the stray hairs away from your face.

he does it like it’s routine— because it is.

the first time you did it, he shook his head in slight disappointment. “you’ll get acne.” he said, voice flat while pointing to his cheeks. so after months of it happening, he learned to always have tissues in his bag just in case you decided you wanted to have another ranting session.

a few minutes pass and you hear him groan before reaching over to show you his watch. two thirty-seven pm. “man. fuck history class.” you sigh, starting to pack up your things while sunghoon's already a few steps past the cafe door.

“hoonie, wait for me!” you whine, running to catch up and he pauses, looking at you over his shoulder.

he only resumes his strides when he hears the familiar taps of your footstep beside him, making him smile to himself as he shoves his hands in his pocket, walking back to class with the cold autumn wind that pushes leaves of gold and orange past his feet.

this is what he does. if he wanted to go somewhere, he’d guide you to the destination by walking instead of telling. sometimes, because you moved at the pace of a snail, he would need to tug on your shirt or on the end of your jacket to help you keep up.

he never actually touches you. not intentionally. the usual skinship he’d initiate is a tap on your shoulder, or on the back of your hand. if he was feeling extra touchy, the most he’d give is an affectionate pat to your head.

if you remember correctly, that has only happened seven times so far.

there was also that one time he touched your cheeks for a brief moment, but you don’t think that counts because he only did it to push your head away when jake jokingly leaned towards you with a kissy face.

“sunghoon!”

two heads turn around to see heeseung, a sophomore, approaching with a basketball pinned between his hand and hip. he’s a good friend of jake and jay, and by association, sunghoon’s.

“mind if i take him away for a bit?” heeseung asks you, the usual charming smile on his face as he taps on sunghoon’s shoulder. you nod and shoo them away, but not without sunghoon pointing to an empty bench first.

you head over there, one leg crossed over the other as you observe the bright smile on sunghoon’s face. words like “girls” and “after party” are thrown, and you already know it has something to do with the boys’ basketball match this weekend.

but their words translate more like faint buzzing because you’re too busy dwelling on the way sunghoon interacts with heeseung. it’s something that has been bothering you for a good while— the way he becomes much more animated when he talks to someone. the way sentences don’t sound strained leaving his mouth.

it’s like everyone has access to a button that activates talkative sunghoon.

everyone else but you.

the theory of deindividuation didn’t apply to him anymore. maybe it never did.

he wasn’t technically popular, no. he was still an introvert who preferred staying on the sidelines but from what you’ve seen, anyone who was brave enough to go up to him and make friends, he accepted without protest.

weren’t you already friends with him? so why can’t he be like that with you?

your mind reels back to the time you caught him talking to a senior on the way to your next class. they were having a conversation about the cameras he liked and his history with photography, and it made you wonder for a second whether he had an identical twin his friends forgot to tell you about. you could hear the childlike fascination as he talked, voice practically dripping with enthusiasm.

so when you asked him about cameras later that same day and all you got was a simple 'i like them', it simply broke your heart.

you've spent days thinking about why he couldn’t open up to you the same way he did with others. you’d scroll through your texts with sunghoon and it's always polite. always curt. always “how’s your weekend?” but when you ask him the same question, he’d reply with “just okay.” before turning the conversation to something about you again.

maybe he wasn’t interested in you. not in that way, at least. because why would he? he, who would make people stare whenever you walked the hallways together. he, who made every student in class stop whatever they were doing just to listen to him whenever he recited.

he, who hugged acquaintances yet can’t seem to stand the thought of his hand grazing you, his friend.

it made you overthink whether you truly were a friend to him or just another overzealous classmate forcing your unwanted presence.

you don’t even realize you’ve started tearing up until you see sunghoon kneeling in front of you, eyes full of worry as he looks into your glassy ones.

“angel? w-what’s wrong?” he asks, a hand reaching up but he bites his lips and brings it back down to his side.

you turn your head to the side and force out a laugh. “where’s heeseung?”

“he left. tell me what’s wrong.” he says, placing a hand on your knee. he doesn’t need to tell you, because you could tell how uncomfortable he was from initiating that simple touch.

“it’s nothing. just… i think some dust got into my eyes.” you rub your eyes with your curled fist, exaggerating a few blinks before you gently push his hand off your knee. not even a second passes and you already miss the warmth of his touch. it's pathetic.

“there. it’s gone now.” you hum, pulling him up by his bag’s strap. “let’s go? mr. shin will kill us if we’re late.”

he looks like he wants to say something. but he doesn’t.

he never does.

instead, he strips off his white hoodie and hands it to you, looking at you with expectant eyes. he just stands there, your bag in his hand with the same expression until you relent and throw his hoodie over your head while rolling your eyes.

you walk to your history class warm and smelling like a pleasant mix of sunghoon’s cologne and laundry detergent.

your exit plan hasn’t even started yet and you’re already failing.

three weeks.

three cruel and agonizing weeks of sunghoon missing your presence.

he thinks it started that weekend. like heeseung suggested, he texted you an invite to the frat party to celebrate the boys’ win. he never really got a reply but he did see you arrive safely which put him a little more at ease.

you greeted him with a breathtaking smile and the same little wave he started looking forward to receiving everyday— his biggest motivator to attend and do well in class despite the hell that it is.

you wore a short ivory white dress, blessing him with far more skin than he usually saw within the confines of yours classrooms, your hair done up to show the smooth curves of your neck and the sharp angle of your shoulders.

all he could think about is dirtying your exposed skin with marks so the annoying boys in your class would get the hint to stay away from what's his, and he hated it. you don't even know it but you make something deeply covetous stir inside him.

you’re already beautiful in his eyes, but that night you truly looked like an angel, and he wanted nothing more than to kneel and follow you towards the light.

jiwon and gaeul snapped him out of his trance by dragging you away to the other side of the house before he can even get a word in, and all sunghoon could do is pray that you don't leave with someone else.

the after party went on. drunk people leaning against the kitchen counter, a random couple sucking each others’ faces off on the recliner by the entrance, and jay crying “foul” when he lost another round of beer pong. for the sixth time.

sunghoon looked at his phone, brows almost meeting together as he stared at your conversation. still left on read, still no reply, but he decided to send you another one anyway.

💬 to: angel y/n. — your dress looks nice. :)

“why’s my y/n-ie not here?” jake approached him, red solo cup in hand.

“first of all: she’s not yours. second: you’re already slurring your words, jaeyun. sober up before we get to the car, i beg. i don’t want my car to smell like vomit again.” sunghoon grunted, trying to push the boy off as jake leaned against him for support, face pressed on his shoulder while whining about how much he wanted to see you.

“why? you gonna try to kiss her again?”

“if it’ll annoy you. like it always does.” jake snaps back, a drunken smirk on his face.

sunghoon rolled his eyes, taking jake’s cup and pushing him with enough force to make him land on the couch.

“you didn’t even get to kiss her sober. what makes you think your wasted ass can do it this time?” the laugh he let out is light, yet traced with a bit of venom.

looking at jake all sprawled out on the couch and giggling like a man without a care in the world made sunghoon sneer. even thinking about that memory makes him want to knock jake out. but he knows his best friend’s teasing is only done to get a reaction out of him, to press on a particularly sensitive bruise— the bruise being his feelings for you.

“hoon!” he turned, seeing jay from the kitchen pointing to a girl. he approached them with ease, flashing the stranger a smile. “he’s my friend who wanted to get something done.” jay said, charming as ever, palm pointed to sunghoon.

“this is the minha, the artist i told you about. let me know when you guys agree on something, yeah?” he pat both their backs and made his exit, probably to tend to jake who was wasted and still trying to dance.

the girl turned to him with a gasp, excitedly showing the jewelry on her hand and fingers. they talked about the bracelet he wanted to be made, noting colors he did and didn’t want to include, even passionately showing her reference pictures.

in the middle of his conversation, he raised his head to look for jay but caught you instead, unreadable eyes moving from him to his new-found friend. he took a step back from her and one towards you but you vehemently shook your head, raising a hand to make him stay in place.

you gave him a smile, one that looked a little forced, a little too disingenuous and foreign in a kind face like yours.

you mouthed ‘i’m heading home', thumb pointing to the door before waving goodbye. “wait. i— i’ll be back.” he says to minha, running and pushing his way through the crowd of bodies. when he stepped out of the front door, gaeul's car had already sped off, leaving nothing behind but a cloud of dust.

💬 to: angel y/n. — i didn’t get to say goodbye. :(

the three bubbles popped up on his screen. after a few minutes of watching it appear and disappear, you replied.

💬 from: angel y/n. — it’s okay, sunghoon. enjoy the party! 👍

and so ensued the twenty one days of sunghoon’s torture.

the absence wasn’t loud. it wasn’t immediate. it was a gradual pull, like flowers in a vase slowly losing their petals and vibrant color to their unnatural environment.

you were gone, but not entirely.

though a part of him thinks it would have been more merciful if you just left outright, because the moment he starts noticing things, it’s like he can’t stop. it's the type of cruelty only you could do to him.

you didn’t sit beside him anymore, opting to return to your previous spot behind him during classes. no more loud cheering by his side when he attended the boys’ basketball practices after class. and just to rub salt to his open wound, you made gaeul and jiwon replace him in your usual lunch spot.

that was the final straw— the thing that let him knew he somehow, some way, truly fucked up.

now he can’t even use classes as an excuse to see you because of course, of course, it had to happen right before the holiday break. not only was there an emotional distance, but a physical one, too. he can’t text you either— not without looking stupid or desperate. the last message he sent read “okay. good night, y/n.” which was a reply to your dry “i think i'll sleep, sunghoon. night! :)”

no more lunches, no more affectionate reminders of homework deadlines, and no more nicknames. things changed. and the shift, though unnoticeable to others, was strong enough for his best friends to speak up.

“i swear to god if you sigh one more time, i’ll actually mix bleach in your coffee to put you out of whatever misery you’re in.” jay grunts, throwing the couch pillow to sunghoon, unfazed and still busy fiddling with his phone despite getting hit square on his arm.

jake takes a peek from behind the couch, a plate of their shared dinner in hand, laughing as he sees sunghoon pathetically typing and deleting different variations of 'how was your day?' into his phone without actually sending anything.

“is our y/n-ie still not talking to you?” he teases, moving to the sit on the floor, right between his best friend’s legs. the nickname rolling off jake's tongue makes sunghoon's brow twitch in irritation.

“still? i thought they were okay? didn’t she visit us during a game?”

sunghoon’s head snaps up to look at jay. “she did?”

they nod. “the one we did before break.”

“without me?” he says this time, voice pitched up in disbelief.

they give him another nod.

“said she just wanted to drop by and watch us. sat with a long-haired blonde guy.” jay mumbles, giving him a shrug.

“yeah. he seemed awfully close to her if you ask me. arm around her everything. i’m surprised they weren’t making out.” jake adds, making the other laugh as he creates horrible slurping sounds with arms wrapped around himself.

sunghoon takes the pillow from earlier and smashes it across the side of jake’s head. “you’re disgusting.” he huffs, storming to his room, feeling his heart drop lower and lower with each stomp of his feet.

he hears nothing but static, clouded eyes burning holes on the framed photo atop his bedside table: a candid shot he took using his favorite film camera of you laughing so brightly that your eyes turned into crescents.

the mere thought of someone else seeing you in that light has dinner rushing back out his mouth.

you’ve made peace with your friendship with sunghoon.

you've long accepted that it won’t turn into anything more. at some point, you were able to tune out the girls that hang around him, not caring whether they'd confess. he rejected every single one of them anyway, and you know you wouldn't be any different than those pretty crying faces if you tried.

you only cared when people approached him to have a friendly conversation because sunghoon would happily give them a memorable one. that's what made you jealous.

hell, he even got your friends. gaeul mentioned natto once and sunghoon yapped about the delicacy like a day-one fan. he shared his favorite fashion brands with jiwon too– complete with a detailed explanation on his preferences and favorite collections.

granted, he wasn’t on the best terms with them right now because they were the ones who had to pick up the pieces of your heart when you started crying halfway through the drive back to your apartment after that cursed party.

you stood there long enough to see him laugh and giggle in amazement at whatever amazing thing the amazing girl was showing him on her phone, stood long enough to see how casually he held her hand and raised it to his face to look at her accessories. your eyes read his lips, 'you’re so cool', right before he saw you.

gaeul held you in her arms as soon as you curled up in your bed, jiwon on the other side shushing you while stroking your head. “i just— i don’t get it.” you grunted, brashly wiping your wet cheeks with the back of your hand, the mascara-stained tears staining your bedsheets as they dropped freely.

“why he’s– why doesn't he doesn’t talk to me like that? but.. he looks at me like he likes me and— and he does things for me he doesn’t do with other people!”

you were inconsolable, hiccuping in between sobs and screaming more words that your friends don’t understand anymore because you’re crying too much. they just exchanged tired looks while rubbing on your arm until you were exhausted enough to sleep.

the morning after, while pressing frozen spoons on your swollen eyelids, you were determined to treat him as he did you— sweet and kind, but from a safe distance. close enough to keep your friendship with him together, but far enough so you wouldn’t have to feel your heart get stomped on when you hear him ramble about his passions to someone else.

he still attempted to ask about you through texts, tried to talk about the weather, or your progress on a project. he never brought up the topic of this weird drift in your relationship and neither did you.

at first, you replied within the same hour, then the same day, then after three days and so on.

ignoring him became easier when you went back home because you couldn’t see him, couldn't feel the hairs on your nape stand straight whenever his inspecting gaze was stuck on you. you could put your notifications on mute and pretend you fell asleep when he shoots you another text to ask what's keeping you so busy.

half-way through the holiday, the ringtone you set specifically for sunghoon stopped ringing and you knew he stopped trying to reach you.

were you sad? were you relieved? you didn't know.

but what you do know is that you have to keep up this act. so even after the second semester started, you diligently stuck to your new routine. nods in the hallway, civil hi’s and ‘hello’s in the classroom, hoping and praying that your feelings would slip away the same way you were slipping from him.

you marked today’s date with another x — thirty six days since the rift, twenty nine days since the texts stopped.

ten days since random letters started appearing.

you didn’t think he was trying to hide it. and if he did, he was doing a shit job because you were able to recognize his penmanship with just a glance— sunghoon had an odd way of writing the letter y, after all. a different kind of neat with a little flick at the end.

some days, the letters would be slipped in through your locker, and on busier days, it would be on your desk accompanied with food. the drinks varied, but the pastry stayed the same. an almond croissant from your favorite café— the one you used to hangout with him.

“i don’t know what i did, but i hope you know i’m sorry.”

that’s the first letter he wrote. written in a plain piece of yellow pad, contrasting the way it’s elegantly wrapped — in an ivory envelope with a small heart sticker sealing it. you made your friends read it, too. and gaeul cackled loudly, teasing you for immediately turning soft and wanting to run back into sunghoon's arms.

“you’re seriously folding as quick as he folded that half-assed letter.” she said in amusement, chopsticks roughly poking through the seaweed roll on jiwon’s lunch box. the blonde just rubbed your shoulder in understanding, shooting the older girl a glare. “don’t blame our y/n! she’s just a girl in love.”

"hopeless romantics, the two of you." the other girl replied with a shake of her head.

since that day, the letters have improved. still in the same off-white envelope, the same red heart-shaped sticker. the content was different each time, but they made your heart race all the same.

“your hoodie today looks comfortable. i hope you’re staying warm.” “i’ve been thinking about how you're the only one that who understands me even when i don’t say a lot. i'm grateful for that.” “i saw you crying today behind the bleachers. you said it was just from a yawn. it must have hurt a lot if you couldn’t tell anyone. next time you want to yawn again, just call for me, okay?” “i look at you a lot, but i think of you even more. what do i do with you?”

you push the small calendar inside your locker and sigh softly as you peel the heart sticker off, eyes reading through today’s letter.

“it was drizzling today and i felt so much more sullen. it made me realize how much i keep searching for the voice, the presence that made everyday brighter. i miss you, y/n.”

you hate how your first instinct is to look around. to check if you’ll see the same annoyingly handsome, glasses-wearing face that’s been haunting you for the past month. but of course, he isn’t there. so you fold the letter again.

another one added to the collection of the letters that you keep safely in your room so you can read it again later tonight.

away from the crowd of students flocking to their lockers, sunghoon stands with a soft smile on his face as he watches you slip the envelope in your bag. when you close the metal door shut, he takes it as a sign to walk back to jay and jake, hands in his pocket, grinning in victory.

“she didn’t throw your corny letter away this time?” jake howls and sunghoon’s smug expression falls into one of panic, making him smack the boy in the back of his head.

“she never did, idiot. and keep your voice down.”

jay raises his eyebrow. “i don’t understand why you don’t just talk to her. surely it’s easier to just do that rather than… writing all this extra shit every night. who are you? shakespeare?”

sunghoon just sighs and shakes his head, his thumb reaching up to scratch his adam’s apple. “you don’t understand, and pray that you never do. because this shit? it ain’t easy.”

too much projects still left in your to-do list, too many passive-aggressive comments from useless group mates that you chose to ignore for the sake of keeping the peace, and one-too-many snide remark from a stranger in the women’s bathroom about how ‘interesting’ your shoes are.

needless to say, it's been a rough week.

most of the students have gone home by now. your girlfriends bid you goodbye an hour ago and you stayed behind, opting to work on your essay in an empty classroom because your head wouldn't work if tried to finish it at home. the fact that you'd have a meaningful rest tomorrow gave you the last push you needed to press submit.

tired footsteps echo down the empty hallway as you use your remaining energy to trudge towards your locker. it opens with a bleary rattle and you find a square box laid atop an envelope.

it’s been a while since sunghoon left you one.

you push the heavy books inside before reaching for the black suede box, the fuzzy material tickling your fingertip as you push the top open.

inside, a bracelet. fine silver chains alternating with four round glass beads– pink and green blooming from the center like ink dropped in still water. a flat silver rectangle hangs in the center with the corners of it smoothly rounded out, and embellished with detailed carvings of flowers around the edges. on the back, an engraving of your name.

why would he do this?

you carefully return the bracelet inside its case and reach for the envelope with pursed lips. you close your eyes and let out a shaky exhale.

you need to prepare yourself for what you're about to read. if this one's as sweet as his past letters, your resolve— the tiny amount left of it —wouldn't be able to hold you back, especially considering how worn out you are.

"you must have been having a hard time lately— the y/n who’s precious to sunghoon. i hope we can talk again because i want you to tell me that today was tough. i want to be the one you lean on— and the one who tells you that you’re doing a good job regardless. i know you’ve been suffering through a lot, and i want you to know that i’m here.”

the corner of the paper crumples in your tightening fist as you tilt your head up to keep your tears from smudging more of the black ink. you stand in place, trying your best to control your breathing, teeth biting down on your chapped lips as your eyes run over the last words.

“you’ve worked hard, angel. i'm proud of you.”

your shaky hands close the locker door, forehead leaning against it as you hold the letter close to your chest, quietly sniffling with your head hung low, hot tears falling directly on the dirty tiles. “he saw me. he always sees me.” you whisper to yourself, shoulders shaking as your pained cries begin to overtake your body.

there's a faint warmth radiating on your back and your nose picks up notes of sandalwood and leather cutting through the sterile scent of alcohol mixed with floor cleaners.

sunghoon.

he towers over you, body trapped in between his and the cool metal of the lockers as if to hide you from invisible prying eyes. his sturdy arms flip you around, one hand moving to your head to carefully guide it towards his chest, and the other wrapping around you to give your back gentle soothing pats.

as always, he doesn’t say anything. just wraps you in his arms while his fingers comb through the ends of your hair.

the two of you stand there until your loud cries are replaced with small hiccups.

there's a small, shameful whine that leaves your lips when sunghoon pulls away from the hug, but he leans in again, long legs slightly folding to match your height until his face is just a couple of inches away from yours. behind the thick black glasses, his dark orbs gaze into you with worry written all over his face.

you can’t help but feel irritated at how good he looks despite the cheap fluorescent lights hanging overhead.

still as handsome as the first day you saw him— just a little rugged this time around. he looks tired. frazzled. perhaps just as exhausted as you. the dilated vessels turned the whites of his eyes pink, and there’s a faint blue tint on his under eyes that make him look like he’s been losing sleep.

a selfish part of you hopes you’re the reason for it.

“i wanted to comfort you, and yet i still managed to make you cry.” he says with a sad smile, both hands cupping your cheek while his thumb brushed away the tears clinging to your lashes. “i’m sorry, angel.” he whispers before hugging you again, making you sigh in comfort.

you missed hearing that nickname. you missed his voice, his face, his scent, even his stupid glasses.

you just missed sunghoon in general.

the days you stayed apart drove him crazy too. it gave him the courage to hug you tighter, foregoing his fears and anxieties as he squeezes you in his arms. “i missed you. i think i still do, even now.” he whispers, lips brushing on the crown of your head.

sunghoon held your wrist as he walked outside your department's building to an empty bench.

the pink and peach tones in the sky have disappeared, replaced by the artificial neon orange from the street lamps. the trees are starting to grow their leaves back too, but the cool breeze still nipped at your skin like leftover air from winter trying to leave.

it was cold, but not painful nor unbearable. just enough to keep you alert, aware of how warm your side is from how close sunghoon is sitting beside you. aware of how he made more room by throwing an arm behind and casually resting it on the bench’s backrest so he could cuddle closer.

it feels like whiplash, the way he can’t keep himself from playing with your fingers when a month and a half ago, his obvious choice would be to hold the ends of your shirt like touching your skin would burn him.

and it does. it still does.

but who could blame sunghoon? he was an addicted man who got a taste of your touch and firmly decided he’d rather get simultaneously run over, stabbed multiple times, and be set on fire than spend another moment without him holding you or vice versa. kick him too while you’re at it.

he doesn’t care as long as he can feel you.

“i’m sorry.” he says again, voice as gentle as the way he’s squeezing your index fingers’ knuckles, both pairs of eyes looking at everything else but each other.

you let out a bemused laugh. “do you even know what you’re apologizing for?”

he's stays mum, tongue running across his lower lip and you catch the faint pink color tinting the shell of his ears.

“i don’t. b-but… i do know that whatever i did was enough to push you away from me." he says eventually. "i hope you know it was never intentional. i— i wouldn’t ever ever do anything to hurt you. i understand if you don’t want to tell me what... wrong i did, but i can promise that if you do, i’ll do my best not to do it again.”

his shy mumbles contrast the way he bravely pushes his fingers between yours, the now-interlocked hands resting on his thigh moving up and down as he anxiously bounces his leg.

laughter shatters the solemn atmosphere, causing his head to snap to its source, the evident frown on his face growing deeper. “are you— did you just laugh at my apology?” sunghoon asks with an incredulous expression, making you laugh even harder. still, he can’t help his lips from quirking up at the sight.

he likes this. he likes holding your hand and hearing you laugh.

“it’s just— 'm sorry.” you pause, trying to swallow down another fit of giggles trying to burst out. “i just think it’s funny. that’s a new record.”

“what record?”

“the record of most words you’ve said to me at once. the previous one’s fourteen words, i think.”

sunghoon stares, head tilted to one side in confusion.

“think about it, sunghoon. classes and group lunches aside, you’ve never actually spoken to me properly. it’s never a conversation, it’s almost always just single words.” you let go of his hand only to lay yours on top of his and giving it a couple taps. “or stuff like this.”

“—it’s like... like you have a word limit. but only when it comes to me.”

the muscle on his jaw twitches as he sees the little smile on your visage falter, the slight crack in your voice mirroring the one growing in his heart. he wants to object, to defend himself but he knows he wouldn’t have anything proper to say.

“at first i thought it was just because you were shy— but i’ve seen the way you talk to your friends, to my friends.. everyone. everyone loved talking to you, and you seemed to have fun talking with them too. i just don't get why you treat me so different."

sunghoon's hand grips on his own thigh to execute a punishment upon himself. until it hurts, until it stings. but he bears it because he knows it's too light compared to the hurt you've had to silently carry throughout your time with him.

"it sucks that you don’t like me enough to share your hobbies with me, sunghoon. that i have to know you through our mutual friends rather than getting to know you from what you say to me. i—” a pause. “i just gave up because i knew i’m not worth your time, or your effort to speak. that's why i stayed away.”

“y/n… angel, it’s— it’s not like that. i swear.” he cups your cheek to make you look at him. you were still smiling, and yet he saw the sadness in your eyes. the uncertainty.

he hates himself for being the cause of it.

“then what is it, sunghoon? why don’t you talk to me?”

“because—” sunghoon takes a deep inhale and purses his lips before finally confessing. “because i don’t know how to.”

just as the weight is lifted from his shoulders, he feels an even heavier one get dropped back down. he knows there’s no going back. not when you’re looking at him with dissatisfaction in your eyes.

“there’s a reason why i resorted to writing letters instead, y/n. it’s just that… just— y-you— i’m— fuck!” exasperated, he pulls his hand away from you, using it to rub on his temples instead.

then one travels down and you see as his fingers starts to scratch the base of his neck, nails digging deep into his skin.

it's one of sunghoon’s habits you’ve noted— an ugly one. the first few times it happened, you tried to talk him out of it, told him how scared you were that he’d hurt himself, but he told you it was to help ground him when he feels frustrated.

like the stubborn man that he is, sunghoon continues to scratch harder and harder, half of his face scrunched up irritation. and true to your fear, he lets out a wince when a thin red gash on the space between his collarbones started to bleed red.

“sunghoon, stop.” you sigh, his wrists tightly trapped in your hold.

when he turns his head to look at you, he looks like his world has collapsed in itself. he's devastated. broken.

“i.. i want to explain. i swear, i just—” he closes his eyes tight, hands curling into tight fists under your hold as his chest puffs from how heavy he's breathing. you gently pry each finger open to see deep crescents on his palms. a frown is etched on your lips at the sight, and you know sunghoon’s not faring any better with the way he slumps against you, head rested on your shoulder.

“they won’t come out..” he finally says after prolonged silence, his voice thin and raspy.

“what won’t, hoon?”

“... nothing. please let me—” his breaths are trembling, and though you don’t see it, you could feel him holding back from scratching at his neck again.

“whatever it is can wait. just.. don’t. don't do that again.” you mumble, letting go of one of his hands so you could wrap your arms around his shoulder, your palm running up and down his tensed arm while he messily wipes the bleeding scar with his sleeve.

he waits until his breathing turns even before he speaks again.

“are you.. doing anything tomorrow, angel?”

“hm. no. why?”

“i… missed you. it’s been so long since i last talked to you.”

“that’s weird. i clearly remember that i was the only one doing all the talking.” you reply with a nudge to his shoulder, hoping your teasing voice is enough to lighten the atmosphere.

“hey! don’t be a smart-ass. you know what i mean. it’s been.. what? like, forty one? maybe forty two days since we hung out properly.”

you lean away from his side.

“you’ve been counting too?”

“too? so you also did it?” he raises his brow, the previous frown growing into a teasing smile as soon as he sees your expression, like you're glitching between the choice of fight or flight.

“would you look at that. seems like the misery over winter break was mutual.” he says, tone a little too proud for your liking, so you choose fight. you take the soft skin of his cheeks in between your fingers, pinching and stretching it with a whiny sunghoon trying to push your hand away.

you succumb to his pained pleads to stop.

you lean in closer to soothe the skin with your thumb while laughing under your breath and sunghoon’s eyes slowly flutter close at the touch, head tilting closer to your hand as if to encourage you to continue.

“this is nice.” he whispers, raising his hand and laying it on top of yours to keep it there.

you want to ask him what stopped him from asking for your touch because it wouldn't even take a heartbeat for you to say yes. you wanted to know why you weren’t given the privilege of seeing him this needy, this vulnerable and bare. yet you kept your mouth shut.

“the university is a place for learning, kids. not dating.”

the sweet little moment is interrupted by an older man, a security guard, pointing his plastic baton at the two of you. “and it doesn’t look like you’re in grad school either, which means you’re not allowed to loiter in university grounds.” he adds, making sunghoon stand straight, head tilted forward to give him an apologetic bow.

“we’re sorry, sir! w-we didn’t notice the time. we’ll be heading home. i promise.” his taller body instinctively steps once to the side, covering you like shield.

the guard tilts his head, brows raised at the odd couple in front of him but his eyes soften as soon he sees the dopey smile on sunghoon’s face when his hands blindly reach out behind him in search of yours. “i better not catch you staying here after-hours again, alright? now go. scram!”

sunghoon turns around and smoothly slings your bag over his other shoulder like he always used to, your hand held firmly in his as the both of you run to the exit gates giggling like children.

“girls. he just texted me. said he’ll pick me up in an hour.”

you set your phone screen-down on your vanity. jiwon’s behind you, scrolling through pinterest in search for a proper hairstyle inspo and gaeul’s lying on her stomach on top of your bed, busily typing away as she tries to cram her essay.

thank god you had the foresight to finish it yesterday because one, that meant you got to reunite with sunghoon— who apparently waited for you by the lockers that day —and two, because he was serious about hanging out today.

he double, no, triple checked that you actually wanted to go with him while he walked you to the bus stop, refusing to let go of your hand until you safely got in.

“i can’t believe that doofus finally got the courage to ask you out. we were wondering how long he’d take.” gaeul chirps up, fingers still busy tapping on her keyboard.

“finally? what do you mean finally? and what you do mean we?” your hands pause from applying your blush, head craning towards your bed to stare at your dear friend who just stares back with a straight face.

“oh, y/n. don’t be dumb."

"i'm serious!"

"jake and jay? us? we’ve all seen it since we started hanging out. you’re the only one who gets mister congeniality all nervous and speechless. now look in the mirror before i accidentally burn your cheek.” jiwon says, carefully taking your curling wand and a section of your hair.

“it’s so cute, it’s almost pathetic. but i’m still mad at him for making you cry like that, you know. he better make it up to you today, or else i’m gonna drag his stupid ass through the school field. by his ears.” gaeul says with a face that let you know she intends to follow up on her words.

jiwon continues to hum whilst curling your hair and you try your best to keep your hands from shaking as you apply your gloss.

when you look in the mirror, you can't help but ponder how much your body knew you needed sunghoon because you’re glowing. you look well-rested despite only catching three hours of sleep because of how badly you anticipated this date.

meanwhile sunghoon, alone in his car, is practically vibrating in excitement. or nervousness. he doesn’t know, really. he thinks he stopped being able to differentiate which feeling is which since he saw you that day.

he spent those thirty minutes routinely checking his rearview mirror: is something stuck between the gaps of his teeth? he flossed again just in case. is his hair styled correctly? didn't prevent him from running his fingers through it a few more times. should he put on his coat or would that look too much? fuck, what if he over dressed and you think he’s cringe?

god, he wasn't even this jittery with his exes.

it's different because he's never actually hung out with you without the excuse of classes or other university-related events. it's different because he's never actually seen you outside the usual café you spend free periods in or under the flashing strobes of the college frat house.

it's different because it's his first date with you, and he's adamant not to make this the last.

ding.

💬 from: my angel. — hoonieeeeee ! i’m almost done. :D

he glanced at his watch.

fifteen minutes left.

enough time for him to drive once around your block, get out of the car, walk to the passenger’s side and coolly lean against it while pretending he wasn’t an inch away from having a mental breakdown a few moments earlier.

and when sunghoon finally sees you walk out in a satin dress, he’s convinced he might actually have one.

“hey there, big guy. you look handsome today. well.. you always do. but today especially! i really like your fit!” you say, adorning that bright smile that sunghoon found so captivating.

the plan to look cool immediately got crushed.

he tried to stand up straight, he did. but he ended up leaning again on his car— not to look charismatic. rather, he needed to, because he was barely feeling his knees. his heart was racing, his breathing turned short, and he began feeling the all-too-familiar prickling sensation in his throat.

“don’t go quiet on me again, or i’ll ignore you. forever this time.”

he looks more made-up, different from the usual hoodie and jeans combo you always saw. still knee-buckling attractive, but clean. khaki trousers adorning his long legs, thin black belt around his hips and a loose blue-colored polo with thin stripes, the sleeves folded to accentuate his forearms.

there’s a small sense of satisfaction that comes to you when you realize your outfits make you look like a couple. it seems gaeul made the lucky choice of getting you to wear a baby blue today, but you’ll just thank her for that later.

“your hair’s.. n-nice.” sunghoon says, a bashful smile growing on his face. “o-oh! and– and i have this!” he opens the rear door of his car, and you hear it slam again before he turns around to present you with a bouquet of flowers.

white petals with vivid yellow blooming from the center, wrapped in crumpled iridescent foil and pastel blue paper.

“daffodils. the lady at the flower shop said it symbolizes new beginnings. and— a-and i want that. a new beginning. with you.” he stammers awkwardly, nibbling on his lower lip as his hands push the bouquet towards you.

you can only coo at his words, fawning over how cute and small he looked right now despite his height. so fucking adorable, this one.

pushing past the bouquet, your arms find purchase around his torso and you squeeze him in your arms. it takes him a second to return it and you feel him release a sigh, one done out of relief and longing, before leaving a gentle kiss on your hair as he lets you go.

sunghoon opens the passenger seat of his car for you with his signature shy smile, tipping his head to the side.

“get in, angel. i have a lot of making up to do.”

he takes you driving around first, wanting to spend a little more time together with you in the privacy of his car before he shares you with other people. one hand on the wheel and the other keeping yours warm, he aimlessly drove around while narrating how he spent his winter break with his family.

his dad took him and his two honorary siblings, jay and jake, to a skiing resort. his mom bought him a new camera as his holiday present, and he casually slipped in wanting to test it out next time with you.

in between those stories, sunghoon admitted that his younger sister was the one to suggest the idea of leaving you letters. the confession leaves his lips in between sheepish laughter, resulting in both your cheeks turning pink.

your heart felt full listening him be so engrossed in his stories, at one point even letting go of the steering wheel to imitate how jake wobbled in his snowboard. sure he still stuttered every now and then, still held himself back from cussing too much on the off chance you’d get turned off, but those are tiny details you’re determined to work through with him.

he asked about you too, and you talked about the boring train ride back to your old little town, how the place looked like it was frozen in time with the same faces, same remarks about how you look like a carbon copy of your mom. sunghoon just listens intently, a smile on his face as he steals glances of your face from time to time.

you also talked about how you spent a week trying to get dye stains off your hands when your older brother painstakingly made you dye his blonde hair to black in preparation for the new season.

sunghoon’s hand tighten around yours. blonde.

“what about.. uh.. dates? did you go out with anyone while we weren’t in contact with each other?”

“hm. not that i recall? there were a few boys in my town, but i know they’re just messing with me.”

sunghoon’s right hand leaves yours to grip on the steering wheel, knuckles turning white and lips turning into a straight line as he stares at the road ahead.

perhaps he’d been mistaken. maybe this is just how you get when you’ve grown closer to someone. maybe the hand holding or the comforting touches you gave him were ones you also gave to other people. maybe you had taken his invitation as a hang out rather than a date and that’s why you agreed despite having someone else waiting on you.

“the boys saw him, you know. if— if you’re still talking to him then… t-then what are we doing right now?”

the change in his tone isn’t lost on you, nor the hardened expression he wears. from the side of his eye, he catches the befuddled look on your face like you genuinely cannot remember the accusation being true.

“him? who? i— hoon, what are you talking about?”

the mere memory of his friends’ words, of that man, urges sunghoon to pull over to the side of the road so he can face you because when call him an presumptuous loser and friend-zone him, he at least wants to see your pretty face do it.

“jay said he saw you come to their game with a guy. long hair. blonde. said he was clinging on you like a damn shirt.”

when you laughed at his confession yesterday, he’ll admit he found it cute. but when you do it today, it does nothing else but make his scowl look more sour.

“is this little laughing-at-sunghoon thing a habit you’ve developed over winter break? because this isn’t funny to me.” he glowers, brows furrowing as your laughter increases in pitch, palms repeatedly slapping against your knee.

“you—” your fingers point to him with a snicker, face looking pained as you try your darndest to hold back a laugh but it comes out anyway.

sunghoon crosses his arms over his chest, thick eyebrow cocked up while gazing at you with an unamused expression. “y/n. i’m serious. if you have a guy back home, you can tell me. it’ll break my heart, yes, but i don’t want to take part in whatever open relationship you guys hav—”

“sunghoon, that was my brother.”

“what?”

“tall guy. long hair. blonde. my brother.”

“that was... jeonghan hyung?”

“yes, dummy. jeonghan just wanted to take see at how the basketball team was keeping up now after he graduated. he’s an alumni, remember? you know he had blonde hair. you even hogged my phone all to yourself when he facetimed me that one time.”

it’s your turn to have your arms folded on your chest, tilting your head with a little sass, lips curled in a smirk. wordlessly, his body snaps to the front and he attempts to start the engine again, but you clutch his wrist just in time.

“no— you can’t just say that and ditch the conversation. you’re gonna explain yourself right now, park sunghoon.”

the sound of his full name said in such a stern voice makes him squirm in his seat.

“i– i was jealous, okay? what more do you want me to say?” he grumbles, looking out the window while weakly attempting to shake your hold off of him, letting out a grunt that barely sounds like your name as you refuse to back down.

he sighs in defeat, and you can see the sharp tic of his jaw tensing up.

“you weren’t talking to me. barely even looked my way. of course i was worried when my friends started talking about how you went to their practice without me. with a new guy, at that. it just.. the thought didn’t make me feel good. c-can we leave it now? this is embarrassing.”

a satisfied smile pushes your cheekbones up as you turn the keys, giving his shoulder a pat.

“drive, big guy.”

sunghoon made a reservation for the restaurant you mentioned months ago in passing. it’s nothing upscale or expensive. no wines or steaks. just the regular korean food you’re used to, but elevated just a little bit to make it taste more contemporary rather than home-made.

but you didn’t really care for that. the sole reason you wanted to go was their aesthetic: the dining area looked like the inside of a greenhouse with its sunroof ceiling, leaves and flowers hanging from wooden beams, and the lighting was just warm enough to set the ambience.

a hand on the small of your back courteously guided you towards your seat, and you’re too enamored by the interior to notice sunghoon staring at you with eyes full of admiration, his elbow resting on the table so he could comfortably continue to look at you in silence while you take in every detail of your surroundings.

true to his words, sunghoon makes up for his shortcomings.

he refills your drinks, debones the meat for you, constantly fills your plate before your food even runs out, and he apparently even paid for the meal in advance.

throughout the meal, sunghoon indulges you in short stories, letting you take on the role of the listener rather than the yapper this time around. he's telling you about penguins in antarctica and you hum, taking a sip of your drink when you notice one tiny, yet very clear difference in him today.

he wasn’t wearing his glasses.

you know he has a collection of them, and he switches things up every now and then. from thick boxy clear glasses, to the trendy ones you’ve seen models rock on social media.

your favorite pair would have to be the rimless silver ones he wore during your department’s post-exam party because they make him look unreal— like a real-life manhwa character. but he usually wore the good ol’ reliable thick black ones to lectures.

the glasses had their charm but without them, he’s a different kind of handsome. his features look sharper, especially with the warm lighting casting shadows from his tall, unobstructed nose bridge. his eyes look clearer and more expressive too.

on the side of his chin, a tiny mole. and then another one. black dots mapped out across his fair skin, all varying in size and but your eyes lock on the distinct one under his eye, and one on the side of his nose, right below where his glasses’ nose pad would sit.

no wonder you didn’t see it.

“you’re checking me out? so blatantly?” sunghoon pipes up, and you notice how the mole under his eye moves when he raises an eyebrow at you. it makes you giggle, reaching forward to poking the round dot under his eye.

“i didn’t know you had moles.” you mumble, rubbing on the skin with extra gentleness before leaning back. “kind of reminds me of someone i met when i was a kid.”

“hm? do tell.”

“ah, it’s nothing. there used to be this kid in my hometown who had moles like yours. god, that was years ago. i was really young— around eight or nine years old, i think. i met him at a playground where older boys were making fun of him for it.”

“let me guess. you defended him from the big bad bullies and he fell in love with you?”

“defended him, yeah. jesus, they were assholes. the memory is hazy, but i tried to comfort him by chasing him around and stuff. i tried to go back to the playground again the next day after my classes, but he never came back.” you poke at your left overs with your fork, the distant memory making a grin dance on your lips.

“but falling in love? highly doubt it. told him my name but i never got his back. all i remember's his cute moles. he might as well have been an imaginary friend.”

“i say defending a kid like that can definitely make them fall for you.”

“are you speaking from experience, mister?”

"partly."

you smile, cupping your hands behind your ear, making sunghoon chuckle as he wipes the corner of his mouth with a napkin.

“when i was a kid, i used to be so timid— waaaaay way worse than i was with you.” he says, and the way his eyes widen when he extends his words make you giggle.

“never talked to my classmates, always stayed at home. even my cousins who visited can’t get a word out of me. my parents tried making me do hobbies to get me out of my shell. you name it, i did it. and it helped, but only by a little. then they thought maybe going to the city might help my introversion. my little sister was growing up, too, so they started looking for a place here in seoul.”

your elbows perch on the table, chin resting above your interlocked fingers as you give him a dreamy nod. “mhm. and then?”

“and then the day before we moved, i decided i’m gonna try playing with the kids from my town. just to give it a last shot. except they teased me a lot because i wasn’t talking. they made fun of my moles, too. but then—” sunghoon pauses.

“this strange girl came shouting. i’ve never seen her before. think she went to a different elementary school, but she fought the boys off even though they were taller than her. she threatened to throw rocks at their heads and pull their hair out. and you know what? they looked scared. i think that was the first time i saw genuine fear.” he says, breaking out in a fit of giggles.

“picture this: i was half a foot taller than her but she was reprimanding me and pushing me to stand up straighter, saying i should learn how to speak up and fight back. that no one would fight my battles for me but me. since then, i started doing it— practicing my speech skills and self confidence. eventually, i stopped cowering whenever strangers approached me and i learned how to speak without my voice shaking. it's all thanks to her.”

when his monologue is over, sunghoon just grins at you like reminiscing alone was enough to comfort him. you feel a little irritated, jealous of the way he speaks so affectionately of her memory.

but at the same time, you can’t help but smile back. that's how you feel about your own little friend after all.

“so you fell in love?"

"i wouldn't be so hasty to call it love. perhaps admiration. deep admiration."

"don’t tell me you never told her your name like my old friend?”

his chuckle is mirthful as he shakes his head. “oh believe me, i did. swear on it. either she didn’t hear me, or she’s deaf because she just started calling me ‘pengoo’ instead of my name.”

pengoo.

it’s familiar.

you squint your eyes once more as you see the dimple on his cheek appear, the indentation becoming deeper as he flashes you a knowing smile.

pengoo, pengoo, pengoo.

wait.

“his shirt. that was the shirt he was wearing...” you trail off in a whisper, the words barely audible as you point your hands at sunghoon, and he just smiles even wider, nodding his head slowly.

you sit there in stunned silence, hands crossed over your mouth as you stare at the sunghoon whose look of pride turned into concern, nervous of the crystal clear shock on your face. he's cautious as he offers his open palm on the table, skittish and biting his lip when you still refuse to hold his hand.

he calls out your name with such gentleness that you’re transported back to that day— to the little, but still taller boy who had tears in his eyes, looking ridiculous and snotty while sporting a white shirt with a penguin patch.

the one who you affectionately called 'cookies and cream' for the specks of black splattered across his face, whose tears you wiped using your special barbie handkerchief, whose arm you scribbled your name on with your glittery purple pen that he wanted to taste because it smelled like grape juice.

though the memory isn’t as clear as it was to you years ago, he was a constant in your life. whenever you encountered people who leaned more towards timidity, it's him who appeared in the back of your mind. the nameless friend who you never saw again after his worried mom fetched him from the playground.

except he's not nameless anymore, and he's sitting right in front of you.

the salty tears burn when you try to hold them back, but they're insistent on coming out so you hang your head low and attempt to contain your sniffles. panicked, sunghoon gently holds on your arm and guides you outside of the restaurant to a more secluded spot in the front lawn.

“y/n.” he calls out again, pale hands gently squeezing on your hips as he bends down, trying to take a peek of your face that you insist to cover. “angel… did i make you cry again?” he sighs and you shake your head, quickly taking him in your arms, hugging him like how a mother would her child who’s come back from war.

“my pengoo.. my pengoo.” you choke out in between stifled sobs, stroking his head. his arms wrap around your waist, lifting you off of the ground for a moment as his face settles on the crook of your neck, nose brushing against the skin as he whispers back.

“it’s me. pengoo’s here. you're okay. i'm not leaving.” his words do nothing but make you cry harder, tears staining his shirt and fists crumpling the fabric on his back.

“i can’t believe it’s you. i–”

"do you want to talk about this somewhere else, angel?” sunghoon asks in a soft voice, a tone he reserved only for you, carefully wiping your damp under eyes.

a nod is all he needs.

the travel is silent aside from the small little sniffles you do and the faint melody from the car’s speaker. your eyes blankly stare outside, the view of the buildings just as blurry as the thoughts and memories running in your head. meanwhile sunghoon’s trying his best to console you, his thumb lazily rubbing the skin on the back of your hand while stealing glances every now and then.

“where are we?” you croak out when the car comes to a halt. sunghoon opens the car door, his fingers nimble as they take your seatbelt off for you. “a park near my neighborhood. in one of my favorite spots to rest my head which you need to do.”

his hand return to yours so he can pull you towards the picnic area.

sits down on a bench and you elect to sit on the wooden table itself, head craning as you take in the new environment. the place is beautiful. quiet, serene and full of trees that it looks like a modern glitch in the middle of a forest.

“you’re not gonna kill me for knowing your secret, are you?” you sniffle, feet gently nudging the side of his thigh with a soft chuckle.

“no people, no witness. i’m sorry, y/n. can’t have people knowing i was a loser back in the day.” he says in a gurgled voice after looking around, playfully pinching your arm which makes you squeal and swat his hands away.

in the middle of play fighting, your eyes catch the swing set nearby and you remember him again. pengoo.

the flashback is so clear you could almost see a younger version of yourselves: you, pushing him on the swing, and him using his voice properly for the first time to scream ‘stop!’ when his seated body lifts too high off the ground.

you turn to sunghoon, the real, grown sunghoon, and he’s already looking up at you with one hand resting on your covered knee, giving it languid strokes with his thumb.

"penny for your thoughts?"

“why, hoon? i mean.. if you knew all along, why didn’t you tell me?” you reach for his cheek and his eyes close at the contact, letting out a soft sigh of comfort. he holds it in place, tilting his head to leave a light kiss on your palm.

“i’m sorry. if you want me to be honest, i had no plans to let you know. i wasn’t even aware you remembered that day. for all i knew, i was just one of the strangers who got bright little y/n’s help.”

“you… you grew up so well.” salty tears blur your vision again as you lean down to press your lips against his forehead.

“i couldn’t have done it without you. that was a significant event in my formative years— i seriously can’t imagine what kind of life i’d live if i hadn’t met you that day.” he stands up so he can tower over you, looking down to wipe the wetness from your eyes.

“you're my savior. my angel in every sense of the word.”

you walk around the area holding each other’s hand, going over your first meeting— the actual one — the one you had before you met again as grown ups.

he tried talking his parents out of moving, and though they were surprised at his sudden enthusiasm, they ultimately refused because the new house in seoul was already paid for. he waited for you that morning, until the last second— until his parents were yelling at him from the car. 'i think i left a piece of my heart in that playground.' are his exact words.

his search didn't stop there. night and day he bothered his parents to contact anyone they could from their previous town, to ask if anyone had a child with your name. but because his parents were like him— aloof and private, nothing really turned up.

but he was a kid determined to keep you alive and present in his mind so when he met you again that fortunate morning in university, he immediately knew it was you without even hearing your voice.

every day he stayed by your side was spent in awe, marveling at the woman you’ve become.

there wasn’t much difference, physically nor emotionally. obviously you’ve matured and grown into your features— but you still talked in the same cadence, spoke your mind with just as much enthusiasm, and still cared for people the same way you did to the young boy in the playground.

still the same girl who’d get him too flustered to talk properly.

“so jay and jake knew about me the whole time too?” you ask after arriving at the parking area and sunghoon lifts you up to sit on the hood of his car. he nods, comfortably settling between your parted legs as his hands rest on your thighs.

“of course. they were the first to know about my childhood crush after all.”

“childhood crush, huh. what about now? am i still a crush?” you wiggle your eyebrows at him and he rolls his eyes, the cute little dip on his cheek becoming more evident.

“you know the answer to that already, angel.” he replies, pulling you closer to him by your hips and your arms naturally loop around his neck like they were always meant to be there.

you don’t know whether it’s the long day you’ve had, or the insane revelation of who sunghoon has been this whole time, but your head’s starting to spin.

perhaps it’s his cologne, how it’s starting to smell is stronger and stronger as his body leans closer to yours. or maybe it’s the way you feel too warm in your own skin whenever his eyes drop to your lips, and how he his sharp fangs poke out when he bites his in return.

it’s like the air turned heavy in a matter of a few seconds and the cool breeze is doing nothing to thin out the tension in the wide empty space.

from this close, you could hear his breath get slower, thicker, eyes never leaving your mouth. he brings a hand up to cup your cheek and your breath hitches when his thumb brushes over your lower lip.

sunghoon closes the distance first.

the kiss is sweet and gentle but filled with yearning and just a little bit of hesitation. your lips are the softest too, practically erasing any memory left over from the other irrelevant girls he’s kissed before. and you’re so damn sweet.

despite every inch of his body wanting to have more, he does the gentlemanly thing to do and breaks the kiss but not without biting on your plump lower lip first. when his eyes finally focus, your cheeks are flushed, tinted a rosey color like your slightly swollen lips that reflect the distant street lights.

sunghoon's grip on you is as tight— just a hair above bruising. it’s taking everything to hold on his self-control, to not take you for himself right then and there.

he just had you back. he doesn’t want to scare you away by being so forward with his need and indecency.

but it’s so, so hard to behave when you’re like this, so small and flustered, looking up at him with half lidded eyes and your lower lip trapped between your teeth.

so when he feels you attempt to press your thighs close, his instinct tells him to pull you even closer to keep them open, the movement making your dress ride up, the slit on its side exposing more of your skin.

and you whine—either from his touch or from the cold air— but sunghoon doesn’t care. not anymore.

the noise you make is more than enough to snap whatever’s left of his restraint and he leans down to capture your lips again. but it isn't soft this time.

it's sure.

it's hungry and handsy.

still full of yearning, but mixed with the raw, physical need to be closer to one another.

your heads tilt to opposite sides, lips weaved together while letting out small whispers of sweet nothings in between.

sunghoon takes your lower lip in between his again, sucking on the flesh while his hand slip underneath the slit of your dress, palm rubbing up and down the skin of your upper thigh, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

while his lips keep your mind fuzzy, he busies his hand by trailing it higher and higher beneath the loose fabric of your dress until you feel his thumb graze your bare hips, just a fraction of an inch below where your panties are resting, making you gasp against his mouth.

a chance opens up for sunghoon to snake his tongue past your lips, and he greedily takes it, determined to explore every possible inch. you taste like decadence. like the coffee ice cream you had for dessert combined with something celestial.

it's fucking heavenly.

you try to fight him back with your tongue, and for a while, he lets you. convinces you that you’re winning when you try to push your tongue against his, pink muscles twirling together in a dance full of lust and wanting, but sunghoon eventually grows tired of it and he gives your thigh a reprimanding squeeze, making you moan again, providing him the perfect opportunity to take over the messy liplock.

you take the small bit of revenge you can by threading your fingers through the jet black locks on the back of his head, tugging on it once, twice, until he’s growling your name against your open mouth.

his lips wrap around yours, your tongue graze on the sharp end of his canines, his fingers wander near the plump of your ass, and you kiss until both of you are literally seeing stars.

you part, heaving oxygen back in your deprived lungs and your foreheads meet with eyes still in steady contact as your heavy breathing mingles.

sunghoon’s hands never leave your thigh or your cheek. rather, he gives them a final brush with his thumb before stealing a quick peck, damp lips brushing against your skin until it reaches your jaw, giving the spot a kiss as well.

“perv.” you say, raising your thigh a little just so you could push sunghoon’s hand away. “first kiss and you’re already feeling me up?”

“okay, y/n. let’s pretend your eyes weren’t my arms the entire time i was driving. i know you like how veiny they look.” he replies after leaning back, the same canines that were grazing on your tongue a while ago now in full display as he flashes you a cocky grin.

“i.. you noticed that?”

“i did. i notice a lot of things about you.”

“like what?”

he's quiet for a moment.

“like how you’re starting to shiver.” his muscular arms lift you up and safely bring you back down to the ground.

“i think it’s time to get you home, angel.”

a cacophony of cheers erupt in your classroom as the announcement blares from the speaker. an early dismissal due to seniors needing several classrooms to prepare for something you didn’t care enough to pay attention to.

all you knew was you needed to get out as soon as possible so you can see sunghoon again.

from: pengoo. 🐧— heard the announcement yet? :) to: pengoo. 🐧 — yep!! i'll just grab a few things from my locker and head there. see u! ♡ from: pengoo. 🐧 — see you, angel. :)

the two of you made the university garden your official hang-out spot. specifically the one near the big ginkgo tree where the both of you have spent hours under either people-watching, eating or reviewing.

and stealing kisses from each other, of course.

so when sunghoon asked to meet you there this morning, the answer was an automatic yes.

just as you sit down on the picnic mat, you see him appear from behind a tall shrub, bag slung over his shoulder and a big plastic bag hanging from his hand.

“did i take too long? i'm sorry, angel. it was lunch rush and there was a line in the restaurant and jake was arguing with a girl and—”

“hoon. i just got here. it’s okay.” you say, chuckling at his never-changing nervous demeanor.

he leans forward to give your lips a chaste peck, an apology leaving his lips again before he busies himself by taking your lunch out of the plastic and making sure your bottle is uncapped and your utensils are cleaned before tending to his own food.

a fond smile creeps on your lips as watch him try to talk about his morning in between bites. he really has improved since that date. gone is the boy who shied away from your touches, and replaced by one who openly asks for a hug and whines when he doesn’t feel your hands on his whenever you walk together.

his hand is always in yours when he drives both of you to school (despite the fact that he has to drive 20 minutes earlier to do so.) his arm consistently curled around your shoulder or your waist when you walk to class together. you always tease him for it too, but he just takes it with a smile because he knows it’s true.

he’s whipped for you.

after you eat and clean up, you offer to keep the picnic mat in your locker but sunghoon mentions he wants to stay for a bit more, and you appease him, letting him lie down with his head comfortably laying on your plush thighs while you lean back, palms pressed on the mat to support yourself.

silence envelops the both of you, but it doesn’t make your head run through a million thoughts anymore. it isn’t tense this time.

your eyes wander to him again— your not-quite-boyfriend boyfriend.

your finger pokes at the mole at the side of his nose out of habit, the glass beads in your bracelet reflecting bright spots on his smooth skin. you go from one mole to the next, moving it down the sharp bridge of his nose, then to his jaw, and you giggle upon feeling sunghoon shiver under your featherlight touch.

you move your middle finger down his neck, choosing to poke at the peak of his adam’s apple before noticing the pink lines on his neck.

again?

before you can even point it out, sunghoon’s voice cuts through the silence.

“i feel like pengoo whenever i’m with you.”

you sit up properly. “pengoo?”

he gives you a nod and you stare, giving him a look that spells ‘i don’t know what you mean’, making him smile.

“whenever you’re around… it’s like i become that kid again. the one that can’t speak or think properly. i don’t know, it’s weird. the same girl that gave me the confidence to talk being the same one i can’t be around without making a fool of myself? i can’t even give you a proper compliment for god’s sake.”

that’s true. he always compliments your outfits, or your accessories, or compliments you through implications. things like “you’re making everyone stare.” or “that cute puppy looks just like you.” but nothing that’s actually a straight forward compliment.

you never had the courage to bring it up to him, partly because you’re afraid he might find you too needy, but also because deep down, you know the words he did say already took a lot of courage from him.

“i don’t.. really mind. not that much.”

“don’t lie to me, angel.”

“i’m serious!” you laugh, fingers forcibly pushing the edges of his frowned lips upward. “i do have a question though.”

“what is it?”

your fingers ghost over the exposed skin on the base of his neck, fingers gently pressing on the spot between his clavicles, tracing over the faint red scratches over it.

“have you been scratching your neck again? why do you do it when you know i don’t like it?”

“angel… i just—” he sighs softly, reaching for your hand. “i get frustrated.”

“you always say that. but there has to be a way for you to release your frustrations without scratching? the scar from last time isn’t even healed yet.”

below you, sunghoon releases a soft sigh and raises a hand to poke at the same spot on your neck. “what is this?” he asks.

“my neck…?” you reply cluelessly, to which he just shakes his head, poking at the skin again flinch from the ticklishness of his touch. "what's inside here?"

“my throat?”

he finally nods, pointing to his own. “they get stuck here.” he opens his mouth, tongue sticking out and points to it as well. “and here.”

“they? hoon, you have to stop talking in riddles. you know i’m stupid.”

sunghoon runs a hand over his face and sits up, moving behind you until you're settled between his legs, back comfortably leaned against his firm chest.

“okay. i’m doing this.” he whispers mostly to himself before squeezing you in his arms as if to reassure himself. “don’t interrupt me, okay? because if i don’t get this out completely, i might not be able to say it at all.”

you press your palms on the arms wrapped around your waist and nod.

“you see those those?” sunghoon asks, and your eyes follow the direction of his finger pointing at the different florae.

the green leaves of the bushes look even brighter next to different bundles of spring-born tulips— colors of white, red and vibrant yellow scattered throughout the garden.

you're unsure of where this conversation is headed, but nod anyway.

“it’s like i have that inside me. a garden— of words.” he says slowly, taking pauses between every words.

“at least that’s what i started telling myself after i left years ago to aid me in my quietness and it helped. a lot. i realized that i don’t really have to give people anything of value, and it made talking easier. if i don’t like someone, i can give them dead leaves or even weeds. but if i do, i can give them grass or the most common roses and it’ll do. maybe even an arrangement of better flowers for the people i want to keep in my life.”

he stays quiet for a beat, and you can feel his nose poke on your skin as his lips press on the exposed skin of your shoulder. “but you… you know you mean a lot to me, right?”

you reply with a hum, eyes glued to the leaves and petals swaying in the wind.

“i'm slow to speak because i take so long walking through the garden. because it's so difficult to choose what to give to you. because i want to pick and gather only the prettiest flowers— the prettiest, kindest words —for you. i want them to be neatly arranged and looking just as beautiful as the way you appear to me. because you’re precious to me... and you deserve nothing less.”

the words tug on your heartstrings in a way you’ve never felt before. to be adored and admired so much to the point of speechlessness wasn’t something you’ve ever experienced, or frankly, ever expected.

so when he speaks of you in such a way, it overwhelms your chest with a sense of safety— of knowing your heart is safe with him.

and the way he says it too: voice low, shaky, and starkly different from the composed sunghoon you usually hear in classes.

it's then that you realize the apprehension you saw you wasn't done out of malice.

sunghoon only did it because he wanted to protect something dear to him.

he shifts and pulls his hands away from your waist only to sit cross legged in front of you. it seems like you aren’t the only one feeling vulnerable because when you see him, he looks just as flustered.

his cheeks are rosy and his ears are in an even deeper shade, almost matching the petals floating above the grass.

“don’t laugh at me for this, okay?” a defeated chuckle leaves his lips and he reaches for your hand, threading his fingers through yours before looking you in the eye. "jake and jay know about how much i've been rehearsing."

"hm?"

“i’ve dreamt of meeting you again, you know? so when i saw you on our first day, i told myself that i’ll do it. i’ll show you my gratitude. i’ll show you i’ve changed. that i’ve grown. that i’m not the sickly and shy kid in the park anymore.” sunghoon pauses. “so every night in front of my mirror, i rehearse the different ways i could talk to you— and it worked. it always goes smoothly.”

“but i’ll see you again in the morning and it’s like the hours i spent practicing rush out the window— because.. b-because i’ll hear your voice, and you’ll laugh, and you'll smile. and you’ll look at me the way you are right now… and it’s like all the bouquet of flowers get stuck here.” sunghoon explains, finger accusatorily pointing to the still-healing scar on the skin above his throat.

“it feels like their thorns are piercing me from the inside, angel. it sucks and it’s frustrating. and the only way to relieve it is to scratch, but they won’t come out even if i do. and then i’ll beat myself up over it, go home, and the cycle will repeat itself. and— you’re doing that smile again. s-stop it!” he stammers, finger now angrily pointed to you.

you chuckle because you don’t even know what kind of smile he means and sunghoon just sighs, reaching for his neck again, palm over his throat like he’s trying to relieve the itch without scratching.

he looks annoyed and irritated, nose scrunched up as he clears his throat one, two times.

“i— i love you, y/n.”

the three words he’s been itching to confess for months, now breaking free from the tip of his tongue.

both of you freeze in your spots.

you can’t believe the words he just said, and he looks like can’t believe it either.

“i love you.” sunghoon repeats, gnawing on the flesh on the inside of his lip while his hands squeeze on the base of his neck as if physically forcing the words out. “i think you’re so cool. and you’re pretty. but even that isn’t enough. beautiful is the closest i can get, but i hope you get what i mean a-and… fuck, i should’ve just written a letter.”

an intense battle of eye contact ensues, his free hand curled tightly atop his lap as he takes a deep breath in.

“i— i’ve admired you since i was a clueless kid in the playground. liked you s-since you talked to me on our first day. and i’ve loved you since our first kiss, but i was too much of a pussy to say it then because i didn’t want you to think i only loved you because of it.” he grunts, knuckles pressing on his temple. “and i’m sorry that i don’t talk much because every time i do, it just makes you cry and i don’t want to see you crying because it breaks my heart too—”

the speed at which his words come out begins to pick up, making it barely understandable so you call out his name in an attempt to slow him down but he just looks at you with determination in his eyes.

“no! listen to me. i know i’ve had my moments, and i’ll probably keep having them, but i want you to know that i love you. sincerely. you’re precious to me, y/n. and i don’t want you to doubt what i feel any longer so believe me when i say i’m trying my best right now, even though i’m babbling.”

he pauses just to take another inhale, and when he finally speaks again, both his voice and his eyes turn softer. so soft you can't hear his words.

"i'm sorry, hoon. i didn't quite catch that."

"y/n. will you please be my girlfriend? you can say no, o-of course. i'm just throwing the idea out there but if you think i haven't proved myself yet then i'll be fine just waiting, i swear i c—”

you swallow the rest of his words in your mouth as you press your lips against his, eyes closed while you grab sunghoon’s hand by his wrist and guide it to your nape.

he lets out a meek sound of surprise but you can immediately feel him melt into you, fingers tightly holding on the neckline of your shirt as his soft, pillow-soft lips locked against yours in a slow but passionate kiss.

when you pull away, sunghoon’s eyes are glassy and you can see love pouring out from the way the beautiful chocolate brown orbs gaze into yours.

you leave a gentle peck on the mole under his eye— a thing you’ve picked up after multiple make out sessions —and lean back to appreciate the full view of a flustered sunghoon.

“i love you too.” you finally reply with an elated smile. “and i’d love to be your girlfriend.”

if humans had the chance to have heart-shaped eyes, you’re convinced sunghoon would have it at this moment.

his cheekbones are pushed all the way up, pearly whites flashed at you before he tackles you down into the picnic mat with a tight bear hug making you giggle loudly as he rolls the both of you from side to side while pressing kisses all over your face.

“hoon!” you squeal while wriggling in his hold and he relents, standing up to run in a wide circle around the garden, arms spread out wide while yelling.

“she said yes! y/n’s mine! my girlfriend!”

thankfully, the few people meters away only flash the two of you confused looks before going about their business.

"can't believe you're my girlfriend now." he giggles breathlessly as he ends his run in front of you, only to wrap his arms around your figure once more, lifting you off the ground and spinning in place while professing his love at the top of his lungs.

it’s dizzying to be his, literally and figuratively. but you wouldn’t have it any other way. you're his, and he's yours.

you love park sunghoon.

from the thorns, to the long stems and rough leaves, up until the prettiest petals that are finally able to leave his soft lips.

but sunghoon is determined to spend the rest of life growing his garden until he can find the words that'll convince you that he loves you more.

BONUS SCENE:

"let me get this straight. you're telling me that you got jealous of me.. so you made my little y/n cry three times?" jeonghan's voice is low, face void of any emotion as his arms cross over his chest across the both of you.

"technically it's seven, if we count the times i cried over winter break too." you mumble, meekly raising seven fingers.

sunghoon turn to you with wide eyes in disbelief. why would you throw your boyfriend under the bus? during his first time personally meeting your brother, no less.

"y/n, what the hell?"

jeonghan's hand slammed on the table, making the both of you flinch. "don't look at her. look at me. i was asking you a question, and now you're going to explain."

he thought jeonghan was cool— and he still does— but he reminded sunghoon so much of you whenever you get stern, and it's like deja vu of the time you got serious with him during your first date.

"no, i— it wasn't necessarily because of that, hyung. i just so happen to have made her cry after i got jealous so it isn't really a cause-and-effect scenario—"

"love, you're getting a little off track..."

"he said he wanted me to explain—"

your brother's giggles echo throughout your family home's dining area and he shakes his head, leaning over to tap on sunghoon's shoulder. "nah, man. i'm just fucking with you. but you knew i had blonde hair so you really should've known better."

"i.. y-yes, sir! i mean hyung! sir— i.. i mean... yeah." he sighs in defeat, head hanging low in an apologetic bow while jeonghan just nodded in acknowledgement.

"but if you make my little y/n cry again, i'll make sure you really won't be able to use that throat of your ever again, got it?" the way your brother's able to make those words sound sweet make even your heart race, your hand finding sunghoon's underneath the table to give it comforting pats.

"and you're sleeping in my room. no nicknames or pda as long as you're under the yoon household."

your boyfriend's eyes travel between you and your brother and he only grips your hand, nodding.

he can't wait to go back to seoul.

꒰ from ! 🐰 yan ꒱⠀⠀aaaaaaaaaaa!! it's finally done. i'm gonna cry. ૮₍˶ ╥ ‸ ╥ ⑅₎ა i saw the video of i-lander sunghoon dancing to pretty u again and i just had to. if you can't already tell, this is heavily inspired by the song and the confession part is heavily inspired by it! i'm thinking of writing shorter drabbles of other members so just shoot me an ask if you have an idea. < 3

⌗ taglist — @neozon3nha @zerocoded @firstclassjaylee @yuyita-rosier @chiiyuuvv

#₊⊹⁀➴ fic — e404 #sunghoon oneshot #sunghoon x you #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon imagines #sunghoon scenarios #sunghoon fluff #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen x you #enhypen x reader #enhypen fluff #enhypen scenarios #sunghoon #enhypen #₊⊹⁀➴ yannouncements !

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freak-accident419 · 2 months ago

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‘not your fault’

Bob Reynolds x reader

Summary: After a mission goes horribly wrong, you take a hot shower to unwind. With Bob being your worried boyfriend, he keeps you company.

Word Count: 1.9k

Content: 18+ SMUT, MDNI, gender neutral reader (of course), no pronouns used for reader, brief use of Y/n, reader is a Thunderbolt, shower sex, fluff, penetration (no specified genitals for reader), creampie, Bob may or may not be ooc, a certain stupid reference at the end, Yelena makes an appearance

SPOILERS FOR THUNDERBOLTS* MOVIE UNDER THE CUT!!!

Taglist: @g0ry0re0 @deceitfuldevil Happy reading! <3 Reblogs and likes are much appreciated!

You fucked up big time.

One of your missions as a New Avenger went terribly wrong, and it was all your fault. You led your team to the wrong place, made the wrong calculations, and overall was the epitome of a screw up. Most days, you were proficient and prepared, smart and level-headed, so it disheartened you when you let your teammates down. And while you all ended up succeeding by the end and completed the mission, sensing your colleagues' frustration towards you didn't feel so great.

When you all went back to the Watchtower, you went straight to your room without a word, ignoring Bob in the process. You knew that wasn't a good move on your part, but you felt way too ashamed to face your lover.

Your usual remedy was to take a hot shower. You were embarrassed and humiliated by your performance today, so enveloping yourself in flaming, steamy water seemed like the best distraction.

So there you were, standing in the large stall of your own bathroom as the hot water cascaded onto your sensitive skin. Your body had been covered in some debris as a result of the mission, now being washed off in the shower. You wouldn't have removed all of the grime, however, considering that you hadn't even picked up the soaps or even anything at all yet. All this time you just stood there, trying to distract your mortification with the heat surrounding you.

Your back was turned, looking at the ground that the water would land on, not turning your head as you hear the bathroom door creak open. You already knew who it was, so there was no use in questioning it.

The sound of shifting clothes was drowned out by the spraying of the shower. Then, it wasn't too long before the glass door slid open, closing immediately once the figure behind you stepped in.

"Ow—shit—that's hot," Bob flinched clumsily, turning the handle ever so slightly to turn down the heat. In other circumstances, in which you weren’t so depressed, you probably would’ve laughed at his silly response.

You felt your boyfriend's warm chest press against your back as his arms wrapped around your front, hands resting on your stomach. His head was relaxed against your shoulder, holding you close to comfort you. Your wet, naked bodies were practically merged together, in light of the very close proximity. Your thoughts had been drastically spiraling ever since the mission, but at least this felt nice.

For a while, it was quite silent aside from the rushing water, Bob offering his sole presence to ground you. Then, he finally spoke up afterwards, his tone in a compassionate manner.

"It wasn't your fault..."

Great. You assumed the team already informed him about what happened, probably telling him every stupid thing you did during the mission.

"Yelena, uh... She told me what happened," he continued hesitantly, your stiff body remaining against him. "Apparently, there was a whole mislead, uh... fraudulent information, something like that. But I mean, you just did what you had to do, and that's—"

"Don't." You sighed, briefly shutting your eyes in exhaustion. You didn't want his pity, you didn't want to be rewarded for your mistakes. "I screwed up. If it weren't for my judgement, then maybe—maybe all that wouldn't have happened, and there wouldn't be so much collateral damage, and—"

"Y/n." Bob grabs your shoulders, turning your body around to face him. Your expression was wrecked, eyes fearful and guilty. It hurt him to see you like this, especially since your vulnerability is a rare occurrence. "She said it was bound to happen. It didn't happen because of you. You didn't do anything wrong. It was an ambush."

"They're pissed at me," you frown miserably, disregarding his words, "the whole team, they hate me right now."

"That can't be true," he says with a gentle, sympathetic smile, "they're mad about the—the situation and the people involved, but not you. They know how skilled and smart and great you are, so no, they couldn't hate you, definitely not for this."

Usually, you were the one who would comfort and console Bob. Whenever he was going through something, you always talked him through it. Which was why this moment felt so foreign. This time, he was the one comforting you, using his own wisdoms to reassure you. And it worked like a charm.

"You okay?" He asks after a short pause with a questioning look.

"Yeah," you huff tiredly, embracing him closely, "I'll be fine..."

Pulling away from the hug, your hands reached up to cup his face. His eyes were so gentle, looking at you with enamored adoration. His hair was already soaked, some wet bangs falling over his face that accentuated the blue in his irises. Your thumbs stroked his cheeks affectionately, captivated by his effortless beauty. He was so goddamn pretty.

You grabbed his face and crashed your wet lips against his, pouring all your love and appreciation into the kiss. Instantly, Bob followed, kissing you back slowly, firm hands resting on your bare waist.

He whimpered needily in your mouth, parting it with his wavering tongue. He was addicted to your taste, grabbing you closer to his body as things began to grow tense between the two of you. The hot shower didn't seem to make it better, as it only added to the sensuality of this moment.

Bob wanted to please you. He wanted to make you feel worthy of pleasure, he wanted to remind you of how amazing you were. Essentially, he knew how it felt to fuck up and be looked down upon. He could only assume all the emotions you were feeling after the mission, so he made it his objective to distract you from them.

Bob carefully pressed your back against the shower wall, kissing you deeply and passionately. His hands came down to your thighs, lifting you up so your legs could wrap around his hips. He pecked your lips briefly while grasping his cock in one hand, stroking his already hardened length. The sensitive head of his dick throbbed as he guided it between your thighs.

“Ahh…” You let out a soft moan as he slowly entered through your tight entrance, walls fluttering at the stretch from his thick girth.

“Mmm—You feel so good,” he praises meekly, eyes half-lidded once he was fully inside you, “so good for me.”

Your hands were still cupping his face, holding him close to you as you pant under your breath. Bob began to thrust out gently, only to piston back in, making the two of you moan in pleasure. With his fingernails digging into your plushy thighs, he rocks his hips leisurely, taking his time to hit every deep, sensitive spot you had. And after a long time of being your boyfriend, he knew your body as if he studied a manual for it.

Bob was obsessed with making love to you. If not obsessed, then he simply loved it. And right now, he needed to make you feel the gentle love he had for you.

His lips were attached to yours once again as he fucked you softly against the wall, thrusting his cock deeply inside of you. Quiet whines left his throat, as he had always been the more sensitive out of the two of you.

Your hands reached the back of his head, fingers tangling in his soppy brown strands the more he stretched you with his length. Suddenly, Bob’s hand sneaked between your bodies, bringing attention to your sensitive flesh with his touch. Breaking the kiss, your mouth gaped in awe, panting heavily at the amazing sensation.

Noticing you were getting close, he tenderly pulled out in pursuit of a new position. As a whimper escaped your lips from the new-found emptiness, he kissed them briefly as a silent apology.

Bob positioned you with your stomach facing the glass door, standing right behind you as you felt his hard cock resting against your ass. His hands ran up and down your sides in a warm, worshipful caress. Then, his palms moved to your front, feeling sensually for your chest and stomach as your own hands were pressed against the glass, bracing yourself.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers against your neck, nipping the skin, “you did so good today... you deserve so much…”

Finally, his dick pushed back inside of you, making you feel the satisfying stretch of your inner walls. Bob moved at a steady pace, still fixated on making slow, sweet love to you. He moaned as he felt your fleshy insides grip his hard length, his hands desperately feeling for your skin.

“Faster,” you murmur, already eager to reach your climax. Bob moans at your words, aroused by your voice as he then obeys you, increasing his pace. Your body was overwhelmed with pleasure, feeling your walls tighten even more around him.

The brunette groans, one hand now gripping your hip, and the other reaching around your front to touch your sensitive anatomy once again. He was already close, just desperate to make you cum with him.

“Ahh!” You cry as his cock dives deeper and faster in your hole, massaging your insides. Your knees wobbled, already weak from the pleasure. The lewd, wet sounds of skin slapping against skin that echoed in the steamy bathroom aroused you terribly.

"I’m close,” Bob whines, his forehead pressed to your back as he pounded his hips against your ass. “Y/n, I’m so close…”

“Fuck!” You moan, feeling close to the edge as well. You felt a warm sensation pool in your lower stomach as he continued thrusting his cock inside of you.

Then, with a soft cry, Bob tenses up against you, cumming deep inside as his hot, white semen would paint your sensitive walls. You came directly after him, flesh tightening around his dick as you moaned in pleasure.

He held you close, peppering kisses all over your face and back. And you would stay in that position until he thought it was time to finally lather your body with soap; not only washing off the leftover dirt from your body, but also the guilt and stress you had once carried.

Later that night, as Bob was fast asleep in his quarters, you went to the kitchen for a midnight snack. Closing the pantry after obtaining said snack, you flinch as you see Yelena standing in the room.

“Hi,” she smiles softly.

“Shit!” You huff under your breath, heart rate slowly stabilizing. “Jesus, you scared me.”

She walked closer to you with a purposeful expression, raising her eyebrows. “I just wanted to let you know that… None of us blame you for what happened,” she explains in her familiar, thick Russian accent. “I know, we were all angry and pissy, but you barely screwed up. Hell, it was an ambush, there was nothing you could do.”

Her eyebrows softened as she looked at you warmly. “We’re all in this together, Y/n. And none of us are perfect, far from it, actually, so don’t think you’re less than any of us because of what happened today. Okay?”

“Yeah,” you nod appreciatively, mirroring her smile. “Thank you, Yelena.”

Satisfied, she turns around to walk away, until she suddenly stopped in her tracks, eyeing you once again. “By the way… You and Bob might want to be a little… quieter. The Watchtower is still in construction, and, well.. walls and ceilings are pretty thin.”

As she strides away, you curse under your breath, feeling your cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

“But I’m happy for you both!” She calls out, disappearing into the darkness.

You took a worn-out bite into your Pop-Tart. Goddammit.

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crest-of-gautier · 2 years ago

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MORE PQ TIME!!! i'm determined to make good progress on it!! i played for around 4.5 hours today, and got around 52% of the 4th floor done. we have a total of 31 hours in the game and most of my main party is at like level 30/31, i think!

i'm feeling pretty content with my mechanics/persona fusions... there are ways i feel that this operates differently from mainline persona (the way petrification is a status that carries over between battles surprised me!), but i feel like i've really gotten into the groove with the boost system (and i have enjoyed using status ailments more than ever).

i'll probably be getting to see destined partner stuff soon... like as early as next session... i'm very interested in it :3

this time i don't actually have anything to say about the scenes i saw today. there were a few times i was 🔪 at atlus choosing to focus on certain traits for some characters (akihiko with protein and making teddie... very... teddie) but idc to talk about that bc everyone's beat a dead horse abt it. actually wait. i have one thing to say and it's about zen (under the cut)

so when we started spot 4 there's this... scripted battle after you open the door immediately after the staircase- where you get to face the golden hands.

i thought it was interesting to have a forced encounter with them (when it's possible that you might've run into them before) at this stage. game design wise i thought it was nice because it lets the players experiment on their own and come to their own conclusion on how to handle these evasive fucks who are the pain of my existence (i find golden hand movement to be entrancing, actually).

and if you didn't figure out that you could agility bind/panic (via tentarafroo or other means). after the battle, regardless of the outcome (i defeated them), zen just... spells it out for you, tells you directly what strategy you could use.

and i just found that... so very interesting? like yeah, to some people they may look at this and go, "yeah, forced tutorial moment." and i can see that (not that i felt that this instance was a bad thing!).

the point that i'm trying to get at is that i'm particularly interested in how zen knows this. like... to know an innate weakness and countermeasure to them... and when the vr attendants very early on discussed that you shouldn't be able to find living humans in the culture festival, and if you do, they're probably tied to persona/shadow-like entities. i'm like. zen are you pulling this out of your ass because you were a shadow once. i'm shaking him back and forth like a tree in animal crossing!! rah!! tell me your secrets!!!

or of course. the game could just have chosen zen to be a vehicle to give this information to the player and i'm looking way too much into things. i don't think persona should give me another amnesiac character again. i will go crazy over trying to dissect them and see if they challenge the norm of amnesiac persona characters or not. i probably sound like im beating a dead horse but GUYS IM ONTO SOMETHING I THINK.

in any case, i feel the game has had really nice ways of emphasizing the importance of status ailments. way back earlier near the start of the 2nd labryinth, the quest legendary medicine required you to agility bind some lust snakes, and i feel like this kinda alluded to the importance of certain status effects over others? idk. i just think its neat to see how certain quests and monsters can teach you things, y'know? video games...! 🥺💛

i'm reallly looking forward to playing more! while i'd like to finish the group date cafe who knows how sidetracked i'll get... but the floor feels pretty straightforward lol so. we shall see!

#pq #lizz.mp4 #lizz.jpg #lizz.txt #FUN GAME!!!! when you look past how certain characters just feel like a shell of what they were in the originals...#and if you're a guy who loves amnesiacs like me...#i am having so much fun going crazy over words that are said in the game that for all i could know be NOTHING!!!#i havent been drawing bc i wanted a break from it (it's the mentality getting in the way of me making swag art)#so i've just been pq-ing...#plus i've had some other things going on irl that takes up a lot of energy so id rather not draw atm #and we all know how much i dont play games so im like. ok :D i go play games now. as a treat!!!#you may see me here more often posting abt pq bc RAAH im a guy filled with lots of thoughts and i like having my speculations documented #i could be a fucking fool!! i mean i already am. gestures at my main's username. but. i could be so right #and it's nice to try and appreciate the cards that a writer lays down for you yenno. or dissect the potential intended readings as well as-#how ones personal experiences act as noise and lead to different interpretations. idk. im having way too much fun with this spinoff #battle system is very up my alley and the art style is cute. what more can i ask for #anyways i need sleep... thank you to anyone who reads my silly posting!! even though you dont have to. bc this is for me first. LOL

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agustdtown1 · 2 months ago

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CLOSER TO YOU II [JJK]

PAIRING: nerdy!roommate!jungkook x fem!OF!reader

GENRE: smut, roommates au, nerd!jk, photography major!jk, friends to fuck buddies, OF!reader, slight fluff.

SUMMARY: After getting various comments about your poor filming skills for your OF page, you finally decided to give in and reach out to the one person that could help you with your problem. However, what started as your roommate just helping you to film your video turned into you begging him to fuck you.

How long would it take for Jungkook to finally give in? After all, all he ever wanted was to be closer to you.

WC: 4.5k

WARNINGS: pwp, this is pure smut (mdni), unprotected sex, smacking, choking, dumbification/slight degradation, jungkook wearing a silver chain (trust me, that needs a warning), riding, jungkook being a complete meanece for real this time, teasing, a lot of pet names, nipple play, slight fingering, jungkook saying that one line from that one live, big dick!jk, very slight fluff at the end bc i didn't know how to end it. lmk if i'm missing something.

A/N: part 2 is here woo! i cannot even explain how much i love this jungkook, like omg nerdy!jk is just a yes for me. Anyway, i hope u guys like it and enjoy it as much as i did writing it. As always lmk ur thoughts on the comments or through asks, feedback is always appreciated. Happy reading <3!

part 1 | masterlist

Moans, lewd and whiny moans filled the room. A mixture of breathless words, nonsensical chants and obscene sounds engulfed both of your ears, pulling you into a dreamy dimension where only your and Jungkook’s body existed. The reality of it all was that the man in front of you was taking you places that you never thought of reaching, all in the comfortness of your bed. His hands, once timid and careful, were now running wild over your body, eliciting the most beautiful noises out of you. His avid fingers were pressing hard enough in the right spots while his mouth was eagerly devouring yours.

It was only you and him, him and you; nothing else mattered in the world, only the warm touches and harsh curses thrown to the wind whenever either of you would bring pleasure to the other. The video —which was the main reason for you two to end up like this— was long forgotten, with the camera still aiming to the spot you two were sitting at but neither of your bodies were in sight. Jungkook was nice enough to carry you to the bed and lay you down to get more comfortable.

“You deserve better than just pillows and a blanket.” He said, waiting for you to wrap your legs around his waist to finally get up.

Everything leading up to this moment felt like a fever dream, the attempts to dirty talk, the way Jungkook used his fingers to pleasure you, the pet names and the look that coated his face when he watched you come on his hand; it felt like the most cliche plot for a porno. Asking my roommate to help me with something ends up with us fucking; you were sure that if you browsed for a few minutes in the hub you would find at least ten videos with the same storyline, but here you were, being another addition to the list, the only difference is that this wasn’t a raunchy film that you could find on the dark side of the internet, it was your life, and you were about to fuck your roommate.

“I need to ask before this goes any further.” Jungkook's breathless voice sounded so good that it almost distracted you from what he was saying. “Are you completely sure about this?”

“Kook, baby, I appreciate you asking, but if you don’t put your dick in me, I’ll kick you out of the apartment.” You deadpanned.

Jungkook chortled at your response, pulling away just enough to undress. You waited patiently, enjoying the view he was providing you with. His honey-like skin glistened under the neon lights after taking off his black shirt; abs were in full display along with his big biceps. His right arm was adorned with an array of tattoos that he collected all through the years he’s been living with you. Who would have thought that under all those baggy clothes was hidden such a hot body? It often baffled you how different his appearance was compared to his personality; Jungkook looked like a cinnamon roll with the body of a certified fuckboy, however, he wouldn’t catch you complaining, especially not now. The brown-haired guy took his glasses off, carefully placing them on your night-stand, and just as you were about to protest, your roommate was quick to form a knowing smile on his face.

“I know you like them on me, but it’ll be impractical to fix them all the time while I fuck you dumb, don’t you think?” It was ridiculous how much his voice and words affected you. “Let’s keep them away from now.”

You couldn’t even form a proper response to that, other than a meck nod. You were hypnotized by the way he was taking his clothes off. Jungkook was now left with his usual pair of baggy jeans that were low enough to show the hem of his Calvins, he also had a silver chain wonderfully hanging from his neck; you often daydream about it, imagining how the cold material would feel against your skin, dangling just close enough to your face that you could simply take a bite and pull him down to meet your lips. It seemed like you were about to find out.

“Can you leave it on?” You requested signaling to his chain.

“Sure thing, pretty.” He flashed you a smile, pulling away his hands from the necklace.

You really needed to get used to this side of Jungkook, otherwise you weren’t going to survive the night, although you had a feeling that it wouldn’t really make a difference considering what was about to happen.

Both of his hands drifted down to undo his pants, pulling them down easily and tossing them somewhere in your room. Next thing was his underwear, a pair of black Calvins that were just tight enough to reveal his evident hard-on. Even with the fabric covering that area you could still make out its length. It looked bigger than what you were expecting, which only added to your eagerness. Without further ado —and driven by the sudden confidence, Jungkook took them off, letting his thick cock spring free from its confinements. You couldn’t help to let out a tiny gasp, zeroing on his reddened tip that was already leaking precum. It was in fact bigger than what you assumed he would be, nothing too crazy but drastically larger than the other guys you’ve been with. It was slightly curved to the right, the perfect angle to reach the places you wish him to reach. The veins adorning his cock made you salivate at the thought of what it would feel like against your hot tongue. Would it feel heavy? Would it make you gag? Would it get you crying and turn you into a spit mess? Maybe you will have to wait to find out. Tonight was all about you and him enjoying each other in a closer way, getting a taste of him would have to wait.

The more you stared at him the more your hands were eager to reach out and stroke it, to see if it would be able to fit in your palm, because judging by its looks, you even doubted that you could take it all.

“You like what you see?” Jungkook’s voice was the embodiment of sin. Low and raspy with a hint of hesitation that he tried to cover with a faint chuckle.

Deep down he was feeling nervous once again, feeling too vulnerable and exposed, however, backing down wasn’t an option for him, so instead of letting his insecurities conquer his mind, Jungkook decided to act driven by desire more than rationality.

“I do, actually.” You answered, staring at him with such a look that made the guy weak in the knees. “Come here, pretty boy.”

Pulling him by his chain you crashed your lips together, both liberating a satisfied moan when the head of his cock brushed through your folds. His hands, that were on each side of your head, caging you in, fisted the soft material of the pillow in which your head was resting on, all due to the sensation of your hot cunt against his length.

“Shit.” You breathed out after pulling away. “Do that again.”

Jungkook only shook his head, confusing you with the sudden rejection.

“You’re missing something there.” He added, eyes never leaving yours.

“What do you mean?”

“Come on, pretty. I know you’re smart enough to figure it out on your own.” His answer was followed by a harsh smack on one of your thighs. “Aren’t you?”

“But I don’t—” Another smack delivered to your tender flesh interrupted you. “Fuck, wait…” The next time his hand impacted against your skin a sting of pain mixed with pleasure spread within you. “Jungkook!” You whined, trying to create some friction on your own.

“I thought you said you were gonna be good for me.” He mockingly said, colliding his big hand with the flesh of your ass this time. “Why don’t you look back on your manners, hm?”

This fucker.

Jeon really was full of surprises, or so it seems, because just when you thought he would go easy on you, he pulled this.

“Seriously? All of this over me not saying, what? Please?” You sassily argued back.

“Is that how you wanna act right now, doll?” He raised one of his eyebrows, questioning you in such a way that got you wondering what would be the appropriate approach. “I’d be careful with what I say if I were you.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

The question hung in the air for a few seconds before Jungkook pulled away from you completely. His hands reached out for your waist, holding you with a strong grip.

“Turn around.” He ordered. A few more seconds passed before he turned you around himself. “And just so we are clear, I’m not repeating myself tonight.”

Ass in the air, completely exposed to him. It excited you what his next move would be, but it was also killing you not knowing what he was up to.

His hands were caressing your sides slowly, distracting you for a second with his touches from what was coming your way.

“It seems like you can’t keep up with your promises.” It was sudden, completely unexpected; the sound of skin being slapped echoed through the room. His tattooed hand colliding with your ass. “So I might need to remind you what you asked for.”

The next one felt harsher than the last one, eliciting a deep moan out of you and making your whole body move forward. This is not what you imagined that your night would be like, and you were definitely not expecting your roommate to turn into such a brat tamer. However, what surprised you the most is how much you actually liked it. This whole scenario in which Jungkook was simply handling you in any way he wanted was far way better than what your fantasies were about. The way he talked to you; the fact that he knew just the right amount of strength he needed to use to make you whimper in pleasure rather than pain; the tender touch he would provide you with before delivering another slap, as if he were preparing your skin for the collision. Everything felt like the perfect wet dream.

After delivering one last slap to your ass, Jungkook leaned down to place wet kisses all over the area, before admiring the red imprint of his hand on both cheeks.

“You think you’re ready for me now?” He mockingly asked. “Or should I check?” Not even expecting an actual answer, he slipped two fingers inside your entrance, moving them painfully slow.

“Jungkook, please…” You whined, burying your face into the pillow.

“Oh, now you know how to use the word, hm?” His fingers never stopped moving. “How convenient.”

You shook your head, whimpering and squirming under his touch. “No more, please…”

“No more what? Tell me doll, what do you want from me?”

“No more… teasing.”

You struggled to answer, letting out a deep breath before looking over your shoulders to glare at him. In hindsight, you should’ve known better than doing so, because the way his sweat-coated skin shone under the red lights almost got you coming on his fingers again.

“Oh god!” You moaned when his fingers dug deeper into your velvety walls. “Right-fucking-there!”

And just when you started to feel your walls getting tighter and your stomach feeling funny, Jungkook pulled out, stroking your clit a few times before flipping you over on your back.

“Why did you stop?”

“You’re the only one getting all the fun, baby.” He simply answered. “And next time you come, I want you to do it on my cock.” He placed a kiss on your lips before adding, “Where are the condoms?”

Jungkook wasn’t dumb, he knew you had to have some hidden somewhere in your drawers, he’s seen you buy a package before, and while he had some himself, the brown-eyed boy didn’t think it would be practical to go to his room for it.

“No need.” Just before he could question your answer, you added, “I’m on the pill.”

Jungkook couldn’t comprehend what good he did in his past life to get this lucky, but he was thankful for it.

“Should’ve said that from the start.”

“Why? You like it raw that much?” You chuckled.

“Only when I have a pretty girl like you under me.” His lips brushed against yours with a fleeting touch, making you chase after him which caused a smug laugh out of him. “Patient, doll. I’ll give you what you want, but you gotta be on your best behavior. Can you do that for me?”

You nodded, adding a quick yes right after. Jungkook leaned down once again, placing his hands on each side of your head just like before. He started up kissing your neck, placing wet kisses all over it before reaching your mouth again. It was the perfect distraction from him lining up with your entrance. Before you even knew it, Jeon was pushing his tip right in, slowly and steadily.

“Oh, fuck, ah…” You moaned out, hands flying over his shoulders. “Jungkook.” His name came out of your mouth as a whimper.

“I know, pretty, I know.” He rested his forehead against yours. “Fuck, you’re really tight.”

The brown-haired guy kept pushing in, careful to not hurt you and stopping every now and then to help you get used to his size. It was more than what you would normally take, so it took you a few seconds to go from slight pain to pleasure. Your nails were digging into his honey skin, eliciting a hiss from the guy above you, but not even once did he complain, if anything it looked like he enjoyed that sliver of pain.

“Oh god, you feel amazing.” Jungkook whispered against your lips when he finally bottomed out. His breath was agitated and it was evident that he was struggling to keep still, yet he managed to do it, waiting for your permission to move. “You're doing so good, baby. Look at you, you took me so well, it’s all in.”

You tried to look down to where both of your bodies were united. It was just there that reality really hit you; having all of his manhood nestled deep inside you was a whole new sensation, a different kind of feeling. You knew that there was no coming back from this, no going back to normal, no getting the same feeling from anyone else. You could only hope for this to be good enough for your roommate to stay with you.

“Let me know when I can move, yea?” His breathy voice brought you back from your thoughts, preventing you from overthinking.

A small nod was your first response, “You can… You can move.” You softly said.

“Alright, I’ll be gentle okay? Promise I’ll make you feel good.” A sweet kiss was placed on your mouth before his hips started moving.

Jungkook commenced thrusting in and out, sliding with enough ease inside of you while maintaining a steady pace. You could feel the entirety of him, stretching you out deliciously good. His cock was hitting the right places over and over again, eliciting moan after moan from you. His face had the most beautiful expression you’ve ever seen. Eyes connected to yours, lips parted while panting and cursing, eyebrows furrowed with a slight coat of sweat covering his forehead. Everything was just right.

Jungkook was loving every second of it, the way you were clenching on his length, while looking right up at him with pleading eyes and your nails scratching his skin was something he never thought would love so much. It was until then that he questioned if he was into pain, because the burning sting of your nails digging into his toned back was getting him more excited than it probably should.

“Shit, Kook, you feel so good right now.” You panted, connecting your lips into a messy kiss. “Faster… I need it faster.”

“Anything you want, doll.”

You didn’t need to tell him twice; going at a slow pace was torturing him. Jungkook was quick to speed up, thrusting in and out of you with such strength that almost made you scream. He continued to fuck you like that, pressing his chest agaisnt yours while leaving a trail of wet kisses from your neck to your collarbones, sliding down with ease until he reached your tits. Jungkook admired them for a few seconds before diving in to close his mouth around one of your nipples.

“Ah, Jungkook.” You whimpered, feeling his hot tongue circling your already hardened bud. His pace never relented even when his sole focus was on devouring your tits.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful.” He whispered against your skin. His teeth made contact with your sensitive nipple, stealing a gasp from you while some incoherent sentences flew out of your mouth. “What was that, pretty?”

Jungkook was fucking you so good that it was difficult to even utter a single word. Everything felt so intense, and he was taking good care of you that it felt almost unfair to only lay there and enjoy it, that’s why you tried to compose yourself to voice your request.

“Come on, baby, use your words. Or is it hard for you to speak with your pussy stuffed with my cock, hm?” He mocked you and your little sounds.

You’ll pay for that later.

Trying to push him away would be futile so you didn’t even try, instead you glared at him while saying, “I wanna ride you.” It was clear and straight to the point, you needed to experience being on top of Jeon Jungkook while taking all of his cock as deep inside you as you could, at least once in your life.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, doll.” He breathed out, “But okay, show me what you got.”

In a split of a second, Jungkook was laying down on your bed, staring right at you with lustful eyes and a smirk plastered on his face. His big hands were resting on each side of your hips, caressing your skin tenderly, almost encouraging you to get going with what you wanted to do. With no further ado, you guided his twitching dick to your folds, sliding through them and smearing your juices all over his length; you were enjoying the sensation of his tip nudging your clit when a harsh smack was delivered to your ass.

“No teasing.” Jeon warned you when you looked at him pouting, however, you complied, lining his cock with your entrance, sinking in slowly to enjoy how good he was stretching you out. “There you go, fuck, that’s it, pretty. You’re so good.” He hissed, holding your hips with a stronger grip than before.

“You feel so big like this.” Throwing your head back, you whimpered out of pleasure, losing yourself in the sensation of his cock reaching deeper into you in this position.

You started to move, back and forth with a steady pace; hands now resting on his chest to get more comfortable. Little by little you gained speed, sliding up and down just like you always wanted, the sound of skin on skin filled the room, along with the filthy sounds coming from both of your mouths.

“Shit, that’s it. You look so pretty bouncing on my cock.” Jungkook loved the new view, not only did you feel amazing in this position, with your walls clenching on his girth, but also the way your tits were bouncing up and down with every move was driving him crazy.

One of his hands reached up to hold your tit, fondling and kneading your tender flesh, however, his hand didn’t stop there. Jungkook felt bold enough to push his hand further up, slithering smoothly until his fingers reached a certain part of your body. Without even thinking, Jungkook wrapped his hand around your neck, just tight enough to make you gasp in surprise but without any ill intent. Nonetheless, it seemed like you weren’t the only one being taken by surprise, because the sudden pressure on your neck was like adding fuel to the fire, encouraging you to fuck yourself harder and faster on his throbing cock, and Jungkook noticed how your whole demeanor changed.

“Look at you,” He chuckled, “You liked being treated like this, huh? Like it when I choke you and smack you hard enough to leave a mark on you?”

It was cruel the way he was speaking to you, but you couldn’t deny it, if anything it only pushed you to speed up, making your thighs ache and almost fall on his chest completely exhausted.

“Ju-Jungkook…” You tried to call his name in a pleading voice. It was only then that you recognized the hot feeling forming in the pit of your stomach. Your orgasm was, once again, approaching.

“What? Can’t you answer the question? Are you that dumb to say a simple yes, hm?” His mocking smile was as infuriating as attractive. “Come on, doll, I know you can do better than that.”

You really tried to hold yourself together, but the more his cock hit your sweet spot, the more your strength crumbled.

“I- I’m…” It was getting pretty hard to voice your thoughts with his hand around your throat.

“Am I making it difficult for you to speak?” The hand he placed on your waist was helping you to keep moving, but the one adorning your neck never lessened the grip. “Do you want me to take my hand off? You just have to say please and I’ll do anything you want, pretty.”

How could such a sweet and nice guy turn into a complete meanece in the blink of an eye. Jungkook continued to prove that judging a book by its cover it’s never a good thing, because the way he was acting with you in that moment, was beyond what you imagined he would be like in this type of scenario.

“Ple-Please,” You begged, “Jungkook… please.” Not even a second passed before you could breathe properly again, his tattooed hand away from your neck.

You felt like passing out, but his angelic voice brought you back from your hazy state.

“You okay there, Y/n?” He smiled softly at you, confusing you and making your heart skip a beat. Jungkook looked at you with a split of concern and tenderness for a brief second, making a weird feeling spread through your body, one that you were too scared to address.

“I’m… yes, all good.” You nodded.

“I’m glad to hear that.” Both of his hands were back to holding your hips. “Because I’m not done, understand?” His eyes had that evil glint once again.

Before you could even ponder on his switching attitude, his strong arms wrapped themselves around your waist, forcing you to rest on top of him, chest to chest and face so dangerously close to yours.

“I know you’re close, baby, stay like this and I’ll give you exactly what you want.”

And so you did, burying your face in the crook of his neck while Jungkook positioned himself the right way to slam his cock into you with hard and fast thrusts. Your whimpers were muffled against his skin, while his moans filled your ears. He sounded so pretty, chanting your name the more you clenched on him.

“Shit, I’m getting close too.” Jungkook announced.

“Please, I wanna cum…” You begged, pulling away from his neck to look at him with pleading eyes. “I can’t hold it.”

“I’m almost there, doll, wait for me, come on.”

His hands started to slide down to get a hold of your ass while still thrusting into you at such a relentless pace. So persistent and intense, every touch, move and caress felt ten times more than before, your whole body was sensitive that it was so difficult for you to hold it together, you desperately needed to have your release. Jungkook was aware of it, it was so painfully clear how bad you needed to cum, how desperate you were for him and his cock.

“I’m gonna fill you up so good.” His husky voice rang through your ears, making goosebumps coat your skin. “Fuck, I’m right there, baby, come with me. Make a mess on my dick.”

It was automatic the way your body reacted to his command. A needy moan abandoned your mouth while your hands fisted the sheets in which the both of you were laying. You finally came on Jungkook’s cock, clenching so deliciously tight, meanwhile your whole body shook with the intense feeling of your awaited release.

“Fuck, so good… Y/n, shit.” You couldn’t even pay attention to whatever the brown-haired boy was saying; completely lost in the moment and how well you felt. “I’m gonna come.”

With a final thrust, Jungkook finally unraveled, filling you to the brim with his warm cum. Hips stuttering and voice completely hoarse while calling your name. It felt so good to hear him like that, so breathless and spent; weak and whiny, so needy for you and only you.

It took you a few minutes to fully recover from such an intense moment. Neither of you dared to speak once the rush of your orgasm finally subsided, you laid there, on his firm chest, breathing his scent and relishing in the sensation of his fingers caressing your back with a soft touch.

“Are you… Are you okay?” There was a pinch of shyness in your roommates voice, almost as if his dominant persona vanished the moment he got his release. “I wasn’t too much, was I?”

You giggled against his warm skin, lazily shaking your head to answer his concerns.

“It was way better than I expected.” You confessed, feeling your cheeks heat up due to that. “I gotta admit that you surprised me, though. I didn’t know you could be like that.”

Jungkook sighed softly, feeling satisfied with your response but slightly amused by your comment.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, yet.”

It was the way he said it that piqued your interest, promising and inviting, as if he was trying to lure you into discovering just how much you still needed to learn about him. And just like Jungkook wanted, you fell right into it.

“Maybe you can show me.” Lifting your head slowly, you stared into his beautiful brown eyes, waiting for a reaction.

“Are you sure you want to get into that?”

You nodded, eyes drifting down to set on his puffy lips. Jungkook didn’t think twice before leaning in to kiss you, slow and soft, with so much care that almost made you feel dizzy.

“Alright, I’ll show you all of me.”

taglist 🏷️: @petalsofink @goldietigers294 @ggukieshoe @jk-190811 @hanamgi @internetbelle @songbyeonkim @berryonasummerevening @lanyia @rpwprpwprpwprw @brokebitch-101 @satisfied18 @nikixkoo @susansemolinathrower

#jeon jungkook x reader smut #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook x you #bts smut #bts x reader #bts fanfic #nerdy!jungkook #rommate!jungkook #🥢town originals!#🥢.townsmut!#[closer to you fic!]#cty!jk

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teaandspite · 11 months ago

Text

The Great Goodreads Diss List (Part 1)

Context: For many years now, I have been collecting funny lines from Goodreads reviews to share with my coworkers. (I do collection development, reader's advisory, and weeding at a public library, so I read a LOT of reviews)

Are some of these, perhaps, rather mean? Yes, but they are also very funny, and come from a place of honest frustration. In the tradition of Bargepole threads and lists everywhere, names and titles have been censored.

"First, I want to say that I understand how hard it is to write a book and how amazing it is when it is actually published. Congrats to the author for that accomplishment. That said--"

"Warning: This review will be lengthy due to pure hatred."

"I found myself feeling really, really annoyed with the world that this book is allowed to exist. We live in a universe where the passenger pigeon is extinct but this book goes along merrily being read by unsuspecting lovers of words and ideas and stories? It just seems like too much, you know?"

"Don't do it. Don't spring the cash for the hardcover. Instead, eat an entire bag of Twizzlers, spend some money you don't have at a high-end department store, look up on Facebook the shady college boyfriend that made you cry, research the current value of your home or 401K and then read all about how the big hedge fund managers are faring during the economic crisis. You'll feel about the same stomach pain if you waste your time reading this book."

"This wretched novel begins with the mugging of an old lady and it appears I may be in the process of repeating that loathsome crime as [author] was 78 when she wrote it. It is not nice to put the boot into such a poor defenseless old creature lying there with only a damehood, a Booker Prize and a few million quid. It’s a nasty job but somebody has to do it."

"I think this is the way dead people would write, if they could."

"I am considering setting up SPABB: Society for the Protection of Accurate Book Blurb. This blurb appears to have been written by someone from the publishers who met [the author] the night before, got very drunk, lost his notes and then constructed something in a fug of hangover the next morning."

"I congratulate [the author] on the early half of his book, which was thoroughly fun and made me laugh and think. I congratulate [the author] on the second half of his book, for finishing it. It reads like that was difficult."

"…a woman whose taste in contemporary literature has roughly the same batting average as a pitcher in the National League."

"The author is a pompous windbag."

"Recommends it for: No one. Recommended to me by: A friend who apparently wished to cause me great suffering."

"Makes me wonder: is it possible to obtain similes at a volume discount?"

"The repeated phrases made me want to mail a thesaurus to the author."

"I'm disappointed in myself for finishing this book."

"if the author described [character's] eyes as "obsidian" one more time I was tempted to write her and ask if her thesaurus broke."

"They say that an infinite number of monkeys with an infinite number of typewriters would, if given infinite time, eventually produce the complete works of William Shakespeare. [This book], on the other hand, would probably take the average monkey just under two hours."

"I can't imagine what the author had to do to get this nadir of Western literature printed on innocent trees, but he does seem to know a LOT about being well-connected in New York."

"This book is so bad it is almost worth reading just to make you appreciate the other books you are reading."

"Reads like it was written by a brilliant author, the night before it was due."

"raises interesting questions, like: can a book be so bad as to constitute an act of terrorism"

"has this author ever spoken to a human woman"

"This acorn has fallen so far from the tree that it can’t even see the forest."

"I’m guessing they are touted as ‘beach reads’ because no one will care if they get dropped into the ocean."

"This book begins with all the energy of a hand vacuum near the end of its battery life, and the pace doesn't quicken much from there."

"At least everybody’s eyes stayed the same color this time around.”

Part 2

Part 3

#the diss list #book review #goodreads #tumblrarians #literary criticism #library #bargepole

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reidrum · 1 year ago

Text

like i would | s.r

pairing: spencer reid x bau!fem!reader

a/n: ok im gonna be honest idk how i feel about this one, i just wanted to finish it and put it out so apologies in advance if its not the best lol. this was requested with the prompt "i bet he can't fuck you like i can"! feedback and reblogs are always appreciated ! thanks for being paitent while i got this one out <3

cw: 18+ minors dni, smut, fingering, munch!spencer, jealous!spencer, unprotected p in v (wrap it before you whack it), reader's bf has a name which i hate in fics but its so hard to write this trope without a name so, afab!reader,

summary: a confession about your sex life makes it's way to the one person you'd hope wouldn't hear, and now he's determined to rectify the way you've been wronged

wc: 4.5k

_____________

you were a great asset to the bau. it was why you were personally recommended by emily to transfer out of sex crimes, the skill set you brought alongside the field training you had proved to be vital for the team’s success lately. you were also a great asset to the team. the bau was notorious for having people turnover fast, and you knew they were apprehensive with newcomers. but you managed to hit it off with every single member, one more than others.

spencer reid did not expect someone like you to join the team. not that he didn’t have faith in your talents and skills, he’s read your file and obviously knows you’re more than qualified to be here. he just did not expect someone who looked like you to join the team, someone who didn’t look beaten down by the horrors of the world and still believed in pots of gold at the end of rainbows.

it didn’t help that you were so beautiful he literally would feel his heart ache when you walked in. like literally, would have to rub his chest to soothe the pain. and as spencer would, he would logic out his feelings with science because that’s all they are, scientific chemical reactions in the body. but what he felt in your friendship, what he felt when he was lucky enough to be in your presence, was something no textbook, theorem, or equation could explain.

so imagine the size of the fucking hammer coming down on his head when he finds out you have a boyfriend who: 1. is not him, and 2. is an actual real life bozo.

apparently you’d been seeing damon from organized crime for about a month now, that’s what he heard from penelope, and you ‘claim’ to be super happy.

spencer doesn’t buy it.

he’s seen the way your ‘relationship’ operates, and he’s got the facts to back it up. damon never lets you get a word in when you’re in group settings, even purposefully talking over you when you’re clearly attempting to speak. majority of the time he’s condescending about your job as a profiler for the bau, saying that him and his team bring down drug rings, but you guys ‘just read their horoscope or whatever and decide the killer.’

it made spencer’s blood boil hotter than the sun. he couldn’t figure out why you put up with it, and why you continue to.

the final straw that broke the camel's back about his disapproval on your relationship choices, is what he overheard on the jet one time on the way back from a case.

the girls were talking in the back of the jet, unaware of spencer’s very awake mind despite his visibly sleeping body.

“i don’t know guys,” you had started with a sigh, “you think it’s weird right?”

“that your own boyfriend won’t go down on you? yeah hon, that’s fucking weird.” emily strikes.

“what did he say exactly?” jj asked.

“he said it increases the risk of STIs on the mouth? and doesn’t like the feeling of thighs crushing his head? and that even with all the … grooming … it’s still unnatural ?”

emily gagged while jj continued, “um…but do you like…on him?”

“yes! he literally won’t touch me unless i do!” you rage whisper.

“i am about to give him an organized crime to deal with,” emily half jokes, “what an asshole, why are you still with him?”

“i don’t know, he’s still nice to me i guess, and maybe i’m just being dramatic. or maybe i’m just not someone people go down on, who knows.” you sigh.

spencer stops listening, he can’t hear you talk so poorly of yourself. not when it’s so far from the truth yet you’ve been indoctrinated to think it’s accurate. how anyone could take advantage of you like that is beyond him, but it did light a fire inside of him and made him determined to help you realize you deserve so much better. if that happens to be him, then who is he to fight that?

—

spencer doesn’t get his chance to prove it to you for another two weeks, when you’d come over to his apartment for a movie night after getting in a fight with damon, your date night being canceled and leading you to spencer’s doorsteps, all dolled up with tears lining your eyes asking to come in.

he doesn’t even have time to be mad at your shithole boyfriend when he’s ushering you inside, offering you to sit on the couch while he goes and put a kettle on the stove for tea.

“i’m really sorry to just show up like this, spence.”

he doesn’t even blink before calling out from the kitchen, “don’t apologize, i’m always here for you. anytime and anywhere.”

you give him a soft smile before returning your gaze to the soft glow of doctor who.

he returns cradling two mugs in one hand and a pack of haribo gummies in the other. spencer doesn’t care for gummies, he’s more of a chocolate guy, but he knows it’s your favorite. so he makes sure to keep a couple bags in his apartment for you.

“my favorite!” you gush. his heart warms at your smile as he sits next to you on the couch. you naturally gravitate towards him to lean your head on his shoulder, and it’s automatic for spencer to wrap an arm around your shoulders to pull you closer.

the whirs and whooshes of the tardis fill the silence for the next hour as you visibly become calmer than when you first arrived. he decides this is a good time to ask, “do you want to talk about it?” as he turns his head to look at you.

“i don’t know,” you say quietly popping another gummy in, “i’m starting to believe it's just a me problem. like, maybe i’m just objectively not a great partner, and that’s why we keep getting in these fights. you know this time, he said i’m not worth all the effort and stress i bring him and that because of me he’s gonna bald at 29? i’m not a scientist like you or anything but even i know that, at least, can’t be my fault.” you end with a chuckle.

spencer knows he should probably comfort you in this time of honesty you’ve graced him with, squash your insecurities like a pesky bug on the windshield, and tell you how beautiful you are in as many words it’ll take for you to believe it (and he knows a lot of words).

but right now? he’s just fucking pissed.

not at you, never at you. at your situation, yes. at that sorry excuse of a partner let alone agent, immensely.

so he can’t help what escapes his mouth next, “why do you let yourself get treated like shit?”

you look up at him in surprise, at both the cursing and what he said, “what?”

“you’re constantly talking about how awful he treats you, and yet everyday you still go back to him knowing it’s going to repeat the next day. i just want to know why you don’t respect yourself enough to not let that happen to you.”

pulling away to sit far from him on the couch, you start letting the annoyance show on your face, “spencer, that’s not fair at all. you think it’s my fault? do you really think i want to feel like this?”

“yes!” he shouts, “you seem like you do with how much you crawl back to him everytime, and everytime you let him back in.”

“okay, i think i should go,” you stand up and grab your things, “it was a mistake to come here, goodbye spencer.”

he grabs your wrist before you can get too far, “i just have to know, what is it?”

“what’s what spence, let me go.”

“what keeps you going back to him, it can’t be because you love him. it’s obviously not because you’re happy with him,” he lets out.

“you don’t know anything about me or my life, spencer!” you snatch away your arm and start heading towards the door.

“it’s definitely not because the sex is good, because i know it’s not.”

any emotion you had on your face wipes away like an etch a sketch, staring blankly at the door, hearing the man you’ve harbored a crush on since you started at the bureau years ago, telling you he knows your sex life is abysmal.

your voice comes out small, “h- how would you know that?” you don’t dare to turn around, knowing that if you did any resolve you held onto, any denial of emotions you’ve stripped from yourself would come pouring out like a broken dam.

the couch groans at a loss of weight, and the floorboards creak closer and closer to you.

“i heard you, on the jet.”

you’re especially glad he can’t see the blood draining from your face. if your heart already wasn’t at your feet, it’s most likely six feet under at this point.

he heard you?

“when you were talking with the others about how he doesn’t reciprocate, and won’t sleep with you unless you get him off.” he continues.

the room is getting hotter by the millisecond, temperature about to be comparable to the sun’s core. it’s one thing to have just anyone hear the intimate details of your life, but spencer? the man to which you’d been using damon to get over?

the only sound that can be heard is your increasingly heavy breathing, and spencer feels like he’s caught a fish on his line and is ready to reel you in as he inches closer to you.

“you’re okay with that? not being taken care of in the way you deserve?”

his presence is merely nanometers behind you, the ghost of his fingers looking for landing on your hips. when you don’t move away, and he hears your breath hitch at the contact, he sets his hands more earnestly on your curves as he leans down to the nape of your neck.

“just don’t know,” kiss, “how anyone,” kiss, “wouldn’t want,” kiss, “to give you everything.” kiss.

your head lolls back onto his firm chest as he whispers in your ear, “cat got your tongue, sweetheart? you were so mouthy not even five minutes ago. be honest with me, has he even ever made you come?”

the whimpers escape you without warning and you find a single decibel of voice to speak, “spencer…” hoping the whine would dissuade him to let it go.

“uh uh, i asked you a question,” his arm tightens around the front of your waist to press back and fully feel him, “answer me.”

your lexicon has depleted except for the one word you know he’s desperately waiting for you to say, and the one he knows is the answer. yet you know the second it leaves your mouth, everything changes. and maybe you’re okay with that.

“no.”

spencer hums lowly, “has anyone made you come?”

“no.” you say again, softer this time.

“should we change that?”

this was not what you expected when you came to see him after your failed night out. the amount of processing you’d done in the last year to essentially not be thinking about spencer 24/7 was extensive. and you were ready to render it all useless in a matter of seconds.

so you let the strap of your bag fall down your arm and hit the ground with a thud, and finally turned around to look the good doctor in his eyes. while his voice held traces of anger and frustration, you came to see his eyes were full of reassurance and comfort, the spence you always knew to prioritize your wellbeing more than anything.

he looked down at you and slid his hand to up to cup your jaw, and he hears the smallest murmur, so delicate yet so full of want leave your lips.

“yes.”

that was all spencer needed to catch your lips in a heated kiss, moving your body to the closest wall as he places a hand behind your head to protect you from the wall’s impact while the other pins your waist to the wall.

you move your arms to wrap around his neck and keep him pinned to you with no escape, like he’d ever want to. his lips detach from yours and make a descent towards your neck again, taking deliberate effort to locate the sensitive spots.

he finds one just behind your ear and spends time sucking and bruising up the spot, relishing in the soft whimpers leaving your mouth. while you’re lost in the sensation on your neck, you don’t notice spencer move one of his hands closer to the button of your pants, effortlessly (and impressively) opening it up.

detaching from your neck with a heavy pant, he moves back to lean against your forehead with his own and look you in the eyes to ask, “is this okay? we can stop if you want, i didn’t mean to be so forw-“

“please don’t stop.”

he searches your eyes for any conflict and finds none, considering it the okay to continue his downward descent. he returns his lips to the second home they’ve made on your lips and starts to push your pants down over the curve of your ass, leaving your panties on.

the flash of purple lace underwear glares at him when he glances down, and suddenly he remembers what got him in this position in the first place.

“were you wearing this for him?” he lets out condescendingly, “you really think he deserved to see you like this?”

spencer’s fingers brush against your front, leaving your heavy breaths hitting him in the face. you can’t think of anything to say. hell, you’re not even sure if you know any words right now. all you can offer is a pathetic moan, and spencer doesn’t think that’s enough.

“come on, don’t get all shy now. what were you expecting him to even do, hm? thought you said he didn’t care about making you feel good.” he taunts as his middle finger traces the outlines of your cunt through your panties.

you shudder at the contact, leaning your head back against the wall as he refuses to break eye contact. he’s waiting for you to say something, raising his eyebrows expectantly as he’s slowed down his movements on you. taking a shallow breath you open your mouth, “h-, he didn’t care, just thought if i ke-, kept looking nice he’d wanna, fuck, do something.” you moan out.

“and did he?” he moved his hand back up to slowly slip into your panties.

his finger dips all the way down to your entrance to gather your wetness and spread it all the way back up to your clit, your mouth dropping open as you let out a whiny, “no.”

“what a shame.” he dips a finger into your hole and you let out a pornographic moan.

he drags his finger in and out slowly making sure to watch your face as it contorts in pleasure. once he feels you’ve gotten used to it he slips in a second finger, increasing the pace and moving his thumb to circle your clit again.

“oh fuck,” you cry.

“baby, you’re so tight.” he whispers. the way you clenched around his two digits made feel almost pussy drunk, and he wasn’t even inside you yet. he starts to wonder if damon was doing anything really to prioritize your pleasure, and it only just worked him up more. he felt more determined to bring you to finish, so he picks up the pace and increases the pressure on your clit.

you drop your head to his shoulder no longer being able to hold yourself up anymore, the sensation of his fingers on you taking over, loose whimpers and moans falling out of your mouth every other second.

“spencer…shit, i’m gonna come…”

“let go for me, baby.” he whispers in your ear.

the pleasure barrels through you like a wrecking ball, knocking the wind out of your mind and body. your legs turn into jelly and you almost fall before spencer holds you up. you try to regulate your breathing into his shoulder, hoping to calm down before you look up and meet his eyes again.

he makes that choice for you when he gingerly lifts your head up, his eyes silently asking if you’re okay. you don’t even bother responding before softly pressing your lips to his again, hoping he can feel your response to his silent question.

the kiss picks up in urgency, and soon his hands are back to exploring your body again. they slide down to the backs of your thighs while he murmurs a small, “jump.” and lifts you to wrap your legs around his waist. without breaking the kiss he walks you both to his bedroom and places you on his bed with care.

his fists flank you on both sides as he leans down to kiss you, and he moves further down kissing along your neck and chest. you reach down to the bottom of your top to pull it over your head, leaving you in the purple lacy bra that matches your panties.

he detaches from you and stands at full height, gazing at the sight of you spread out on his bed with your hair framing you like a halo. he can’t even help himself when he says, “you look so beautiful, angel.” the blush rises to your cheeks, and you beckon him to come back down to which he happily obliges.

spencer moves down further towards your hips, and his lips ghost over the lace band spreading along your waist. his fingers play with the fabric and he moves his face to be directly in line with your clothed cunt. your breathing gets heavy, and you anticipate what he’s about to do.

“wait, you don’t, you don’t have to do that, spence. i already came.” starting to feel a bit guilty at the man above you potentially feeling obligated to do this, as you realize that if he heard you on the jet, he heard about the one thing damon refused to do for you.

“sweetheart, i’d love to keep making you feel good as long as you let me, okay? you gonna let me make you feel good?” he breaths, pressing chaste kisses to your inner thighs.

you give a slight nod and he gently pulls your panties off your legs, marveling at the light glistening off your cunt. he kisses up the plush of your thighs before pausing right where you need him the most. you look down at him and meet his unwavering eyes full of love.

he places a long kiss to your core before licking a long stripe. you moan out languishly, the euphoric feeling taking over every sense in your body. you’re unable to comprehend how you went so long without feeling this, it almost feels criminal. and the way spencer was eating you out, felt like this was doing it for him too even though you were the one getting pleasured.

it turned you on even more to know he was getting off on how much you were enjoying this. your head was spinning off into another realm, and the only thing tethering you to this reality was the grip of your hands in his hair. his tongue made circles and shapes all over your cunt before dipping down to thrust into your hole.

your thighs shake and threaten to clamp shut on his head, and he uses his wide hands to wrap around your thighs to hold them in place. “oh my god fuck, that feels so good…spence…please..” you’re not even sure what you’re begging for, but of course, spencer does when he adds a finger into your hole and moves his tongue to focus back on your clit. the combined sensations were enough to tip you over the edge for the second time tonight, your release glistening on his chin as he moved back up to kiss your lips again.

your heavy panting tries to bring you back down from your high, a mix of sweat and the taste of you lingering everywhere.

spencer smooths your hair back as he moves his body to lie next to you, “i think, damon’s a fucking loser, if he doesn’t think that’s worth doing.” he says between pants.

you hum in agreement, or just in acknowledgement at whatever he said since you’re still reeling from the endorphin release. hiking your leg over his body to straddle him, you clumsily reach for his belt and attempt to undo the clasps to reach his growing member. you pull his pants down and palm him through his boxers, reveling in the broken moans falling from his mouth. you start inching downwards when spencer grabs you by the forearms and flips you over so you’re back on the bed staring up at him.

“not tonight, sweetheart. it’s about you right now, wanna make sure you know what you deserve.”

“but…” you pathetically respond.

“i don’t know what that neanderthal tells you, but sex is not transactional. i think if i ever see that guy again, i’d punch him for making you think otherwise.”

the words go straight to your core, turning you on even more. spencer takes note of how your pupils widen and your chin tilts up towards him.

“besides,” he presses his crotch to yours, “the sex wasn’t even that good with him, right?”

you moan out again, unable to find words to satisfy his question. he leans back up and off the bed to fully remove his boxers and you finally get a good look at what was underneath.

holy fuck, he was huge. you propped yourself on your forearms to get a better look at him, and watched as he lazily stroked himself while he sauntered back over to you. the image was so lewd, you hoped you could borrow some of his eidetic memory so you could hold on to this moment forever.

his face held a smug smirk at your awestruck one, and he felt his ego inflate even higher, “by the looks of your reaction, i’m guessing he’s never been much of a, challenge, for you in bed has he?”

you dumbly shake your head no, “definitely not as big as you.” you whisper, more to yourself than him.

his smirk grows wider, “don’t worry, baby, i’ll take real good care of you.” he says as he climbs over you to line himself up to your entrance.

you feel him slowly start to push in, the sensation of being split open growing bigger by the second. your brows furrow and your eyes are shut tight as you wait for the pressure to turn into pleasure.

if spencer thought you around his fingers had him pussydrunk, what he’s feeling now has to be close to pussy poisoning or something because he cannot think of anything in existence that feels as good as the walls of your cunt clenching around his cock. it’s taking everything in him to not break, to just fuck you senseless and reach his peak.

once his hips are flush with yours and he’s fully settled within you, he waits for you to give him the okay to move.

you, on the other hand, have never felt more full ever. damon was not nearly this big, nor has any other guy you’ve been with. it’s a bit of a miracle on how it fit inside you, and how it felt better than anything you could’ve imagined. the pressure and slight pain subsides, and with a slight nod spencer takes the cue to start moving.

the first thrust has you both moaning out in harmony together, and he sets the pace nice and slow so as to make sure you’re comfortable.

but it's not enough for you, you need him to fuck you.

“spence…harder.”

he stills at your word, leaning up so he’s perpendicular to you.

“whatever you say, princess.”

and he starts pounding into you, hips rutting at a pace you can’t even keep up with. the whimpers and moans gush out as the familiar coil begins to build within you. he taps your leg to lift it up over his shoulder to allow him deeper access, and he’s able to reach that one spot you’d heard about from all your friends, on reddit, in movies. you had no idea this type of feeling even existed, and spencer was hitting it with precision every single thrust over and over.

“fuck,” you whine.

“that feel good, baby?” he teases, “the way you’re squeezing my cock so tight, i doubt that fucker ever made you feel like this, huh?”

your tits bounce with every thrust, and the deepened angle has you reaching your climax fast. spencer feels it too and drops his head to whisper in your ear.

“i bet he’s never fucked you like this,” he continues his taunt, “he’d never be able to fuck you like i can, make you come three times in one night like i can.”

you whimper, “spencer,”

“say it, sweetheart. say no one’s ever fucked you like me.”

he was trying to kill you, death during intercourse would be a crazy way to go out but it’s a fate you’d be willing to accept. nonetheless, you comply.

“never ever, fuck, been fucked like you, baby.”

spencer has never felt more satisfied, “good girl, now come.” and with a final thrust he lets you reach your peak as he releases himself into you.

in the midst of groans he gingerly pulls out of you and you whimper at the loss.

the next few minutes are just filled with the sounds of yours and his heavy breathing, before spencer leans over to you, “was that too much?”

still in your daze you let out a soft giggle, “spencer, i think you’ve ruined all men for me.”

he smiles back, “i meant what i said, damon’s really stupid if he’s not willing to do all that for you.”

you intertwine your hand with his, “you know, i never really liked him anyway. i was just using him to get over you.”

“me?” he says incredulously.

you nod, “i didn’t know if you would’ve felt the same so i just tried to move on to someone else, stupid i know, but i don’t know it made sense then.”

he pulls you closer to rest in the crevice of his chest, “i have been into you since the day you walked into the bullpen, and letting you slip through my fingers is a mistake i will never make again.”

you hug him tightly before groaning out loud, “shit, i have to tell damon it’s over now don’t i.”

“i mean, i could tell him if you want.”

“spence, no. i think you might kill him.” you laugh, “i can do it, i just don’t want him to get all ‘organized crime’ on me.”

“just tell him i have a gun.”

“so does he?”

“mine’s bigger.” he smirks.

you roll your eyes, “well, yes.”

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