#The Prestigious Fuck-Up Club

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

To love me better

Tags: Yakuza Lord!Sukuna x fem!Reader, american!Reader, forced/arranged marriage, dark romance trope, dead dove, age gap romance (reader is around 21-22, Sukuna is 37) heavy dacryphilia, finger sucking, use of “good girl”, use of pet names, Sukuna is his own warning.

Synopsis: Yakuza Lord!Sukuna owns all of entertainment district. You’re trying to work to put yourself through law school. He has a proposition for you, and you have one for him.

An: I fear that I was going to explode if I didn’t write this. I’ve been in a not good headspace. Blah blah blah school sucks blah blah work sucks blah everything sucks. I’m sorry if this sucks too. Edit - I forgot to mention that this will be a multi-part fic.

Part one. | Part two. | Part three. | Part four. |

*art creds for sukuna image goes to @.maru6 here on tumblr

Nothing in this life comes for free.

Your father taught you from a very early age to never take handouts from anyone because they’ll always benefit the other person more. He was an immigrant to Japan, and he worked hard for every yen he made.

He instilled that same work ethic in you.

After being hurt on the job from working in a poor environment, your father became very ill. He couldn’t move around as much. Sitting up out of bed made him feel winded. He slowly withered away into a shell of the man who once raised you.

Your mom was long gone. She couldn’t help out, nor did she even want to.

All you were left with was a pile of debt and utter rage. Had your father not been taken advantage of by greedy corporate conglomerates, he would still be here today.

It inspired you to want to go to law school. Your dad should’ve received a hefty settlement check for what he endured from his workplace conditions. The money wouldn’t have solved everything, but it would’ve alleviated some of the stress your dad dealt with in his final days.

You’ll never forget how hoarse his voice sounded while he was on the phone with different agencies, trying to sue that place who forced him into an early grave.

You’ll never forgive them for stealing your dad away.

If you were more ambitious, you’d work to try to change the system entirely, but you knew that wasn’t your fight to face. You wanted to help the already disadvantaged families who were facing injustices beyond their control.

So, you started law school. You were smart enough for it. You had the heart. You just didn’t have a special last name to fund your college tuition. You were a first generation Japanese American in the family. While both your parents were born in America, you were born in Japan, but you were still an outsider.

You were never properly indoctrinated in the culture. Sure, you knew the basics. You knew proper etiquette and appropriate behaviors to live in Japan, but you didn’t understand the layers of how society operated. It was as if you were never assimilated into society as a Japanese citizen.

Your dad wasn’t born here, so he never could explain to you how your last name means everything in this town.

Despite it all, you’d become a lawyer even if you had to bury yourself into debt to do it. You’d work to put yourself through college. You’d do it and bear a smile on your face because you don’t take fucking handouts.

That lead you to becoming a bottle girl at one of the most exclusive clubs in the entertainment district: Malevolent Mass.

The manager said you had the right look, whatever that means. It didn’t matter. He hired you on the spot despite your lack of a substantial last name.

This would be fine. You’d work at night on the weekends and put yourself through school during the day, and you’d keep it a secret from your school, knowing you could lose your position in the prestigious school.

It was a perfect plan, right?

Yes, it was perfect.

Customers seemed to love your polite attitude and warm hospitality. You had quickly made a name for yourself in the few short nights you had worked there.

It was only your second weekend, and your section was full. It was almost comprised entirely of men and their gold digger wives, but you got use to the sexual comments and predatory smiles.

The environment was heavily secured. When you were hired, the managers made sure to show you where security was posted up at every dark corner. They also showed you where cameras were located and assured you that not anyone could just walk into Malevolent Mass.

However, you were well aware that the most dangerous people often worse suits and golden Rolex’s.

It was a busy Friday night. You had already shotgunned two 5 Hour Energy drinks, and you had been steadily sipping on a Monster throughout your shift. You had been in classes all day, and you were scheduled to work until close at 4am.

“Cherry, can we get another round of champagnes?” a sleazy voice pipes up, calling you by your codename. The club was so security driven that they gave all the bottle girls codenames to protect their identities.

“Yes sir,” you respond with an entirely fake bright smile. Your buzzed customers couldn’t tell the difference especially with the low lighting and bass boosted music.

As you walked over towards the bar, your eyes fall onto another table. A man was leaned back with his hands behind his head. He looked entirely relaxed as a girl was bent over your lap.

A crease formed between your eyebrows. They couldn’t be serious, right? Malevolent Mass had a whole downstairs portion dedicated to public sexual acts and other deviant kinks. Why the fuck were they doing that in the normal club area?

As you took a step further, ready to confront them, you realized that the girl was positioned oddly. She wasn’t angled towards his crotch, instead she was hovering over his thigh.

That’s when you noticed she had a rolled up 10,000 yen note, and she was snorting a white powdery substance off the man’s thigh.

Holy fuck, you were in over your head.

Stumbling back towards the bar, you felt your head start to spin a little. It was probably due to fact you’d only consumed energy drinks in the past 12 hours.

“Girl. You don’t look too good,” the bartender, Yorozu, said as she guided you to take a seat. “Are you okay?” she asked cautiously. Compared to the other bottle girls and dancers, Yorozu was the closest thing you had to a friend in this establishment.

“I’m fine,” you quietly replied, shaking your head. It was just drugs. You needed to take a chill pill. It’s not like people go to clubs like this just for some liquid courage.

Yorozu put a glass of water in front of you anyways, not quite believing your words. “Here. I promise you get used to it all,” she offered with a kind smile.

You gave her an appreciative smile as you took a sip of the water. Your hand was trembling, and you realized you had been sweating.

The water felt nice, and you inwardly warded off energy drinks for the rest of the night. It wasn’t worth feeling like a panicky mess.

“I need another bottle of Dom Prignon for booth 12,” you said as you looked back up towards Yorozu. She nodded and walked towards the back to retrieve the bottle of too expensive champagne.

While she was gone, you took a deep breath and looked around towards the security posts. It felt like a small safety blanket in a place like this. Finishing your glass of water, you felt infinitely better as she returned with the bottle.

“Here you are! Let me know if you need anything else, and seriously, don’t feel bad for reacting that way. It’s a bit of a culture shock for everyone during their first few nights,” she assured you as she handed you the bottle.

“Thanks, I appreciate you,” you replied with a genuine smile. Yorozu had a nice energy to her like you felt like you could get close to her one day. A girl friend would be nice to have in a place like this.

As you walked back over to your section, your lips curled into a frown as empty seats filled your eyes. Had they gotten tired of waiting and abandoned your section?

You felt disappointed as you looked around for your customers. They were nowhere to be found, but one silhouette remained in the very back corner.

“Did you bring that bottle for me? How sweet. Too bad I don’t drink,” a deep gravely voice spoke up with a hint of condescension and pure predatory prowess.

You hesitate as it feels like the air in the club shifts simply from this man’s presence alone.

“You don’t drink..?” your voice is uneasy. You feel off balance while interacting with the man tucked away in a dark corner.

“No,” the stranger replied, and he leaned forward a bit, propping his elbows on his knees as his eyes were staring straight at you. “Don’t be shy, girl. Come closer. I won’t bite…” the condescension in his voice tells you otherwise.

You swallow thickly before slowly taking a few steps closer. As you approached him, you were able to see him in all of his glory. The breath is completely sucked from your lungs as you’re able to finally get a good look at him.

He wore a white button-up top with black slacks that really didn’t leave much for the imagination. His sleeves weee rolled up to his elbows, showing off tattoos on his arms.

His face was hauntingly alluring. His tattoos also went up to his face. He had intricate lines under his cheeks that stretched down to his chin. His hair was a natural light rosy color that was pushed up from his forehead. It looked effortless and messy, unlike most business men who rely way too heavily on hair gel.

His eyes were a soft crimson color that looked like blood that had been spilled. A jarring scar slashed over his left eye, but it wasn’t ugly by any means. No, this man held a god-like status when it came to looks. However, his energy felt nothing short of daunting and corrupt.

“Who comes to a club to not drink?” you ask nervously, having to fill the eerie silence with something. It felt like you were suffocating in this man’s presence.

A rugged chuckle leaves his lips, and he tilts his head back slightly. It feels like his laugh sticks to you, making you relax and tense back up all at the same time. You can feel every yen he’s worth with each chuckle.

“If you must know, I come here for a… different sort of entertainment,” he says as his lips curled into a smirk. His eyes unabashedly roam your body — twice before he meets your gaze again.

“Oh, that’s downstairs,” you reply as you feel relieved. This man was just in the wrong section. Surely, you’d guide him to where he needed to go, and you’d be free from whatever kind of verbal hostage situation this was.

“I’m content with where I’m at,” he says with a sort of finality that leaves little room for argument. “Come closer, doll.”

His arm props up on the back of the curved booth, and his legs part into that sort of manspread position where he takes up a good portion of the booth with his massive size.

“I-“

The man pulls a clip of money from his suit, and he makes a show out of flipping through the money before he lays six 10,000 yen notes on the table.

What the hell.

“60,000 yen for you to shut up and come closer,” he says in a voice that lacks the faux kindness he was putting on earlier.

Every survival instinct in your body was telling you to run, but your brain was telling you that 60,000 yen was enough to cover your student housing and for a train pass for a month.

You slowly inch closer, your heels not even lifting from the ground.

The man gives you an amused look as he raises an eyebrow at you. “How much for you to sit on my lap?”

“I-I’m not a dancer..” you reply sheepishly, wondering if he thought you were one of the performers for the club.

“Good thing I’m not asking you to dance, doll. I’m asking you to sit in my lap,” His lips curl into a feline grin. He’s enjoying toying with you like this. “So, I’ll ask only one more time. How much?”

Your heart is pounding against the confines of your ribcage. It felt like you had a little angel on your shoulder telling you that selling this man your time will only further escalate, but the little devil on your other shoulder was telling you to milk him for whatever he was willing to give.

You stayed silent for a few minutes, calculating what a whole month’s expenses would cost you along with the 60,000 yen you already made.

“90,000 yen,” you sheepishly murmur, bracing yourself for him to yell at you for even suggesting such a high number.

There was a beat of silence before the sound of more money being unfolded was heard. He chuckled as he placed down nine more 10,000 yen notes.

“Look at you being all cute while asking for money from me,” he teased, resting his back against the back of the booth. His hand patted his thigh, signaling for you to take a seat.

“I’m not asking— You offered!” you protested, feeling a bit defensive that he would suggest that you just asked him for money.

“Don’t take such a whiny tone with me, doll. I’m only teasing you,” he says as he gestures to his lap yet again. “Sit.”

You bite your bottom lip as you look down towards his lap. You were really about to sit on this stranger’s lap for money… If your dad could see you now, he’d probably disown you.

Good thing he isn’t here.

You slowly walked over towards him, and you carefully take a seat on one of his thighs, planting your feet firmly on the ground so you’re slightly hovering. You need to be able to get away from him at a moment’s notice.

A strong hand slowly snaked up your back, towards your hair, and you tensed up quickly. The stranger wrapped his hand around the back of your neck.

“If I have to tell you again, I’m taking back my money. Sit,” he viciously growled in your ear.

You were already this far in. You should see this through. This club is safe. You were sure of it.

As you slowly allowed yourself to prop your full weight across his lap, your eyes scan around the club, looking at the security points. None of the men would even glance in your direction as if they were purposefully ignoring your section.

What did you just get yourself into?

“See? Was that so hard?” he taunted as his hand slowly dropped down to clasp around your hip. “Why is an angel like you in a club like this?”

Everything in you told you not to answer that question. As soon as he knew your weakness, he’d definitely use it to his advantage, but he probably already knew money was a good motivator for you.

“I didn’t know there was a no angel policy,” you say, trying to remain casual as you flash him a small smile.

A deep chuckle erupts from his chest. He appreciates you trying to use humor to deflect. Clever girl.

“I suppose you’re right,” he rolls his head to the side, cracking his neck from both sides. The sound of bones popping causes a shudder to go through your body. This man was good at giving a false sense of security. “But angels don’t last long in a place like this. It would be a pity to see you be ruined.”

His other hand firmly rested against your thigh, right above your knee. He gives your leg a light squeeze. “Tell me your name, doll.”

“Cherry,” You respond without missing a beat, giving your code name instead of your real name.

“You don’t know who I am, do you?” he asks, allowing his fingertips to glide against the exposed skin of your thigh. Your breath picks up in speed, noticing he’s getting more bold with touching you.

“Am I suppose to?” you ask, genuinely curious if this man was some big shot that you were suppose to know.

You very rarely kept up with politics, only knowing major crime names from your law classes, and you definitely didn’t keep up with conglomerates. This man wouldn’t be the first millionaire to walk through the doors of Malevolent Mass, and he wouldn’t be the last.

Another deep raspy chuckle escapes him. “No, I actually find it quite cute you don’t know who you’re dealing with.”

His hand slithered up your back once again, and this time he grabbed a fistful of your head, tugging your head back to look up at him. A gasp slips past your lips as your eyes meet his crimson ones.

“Tell me a secret, cherry,” he hisses your codename like it’s disgraceful on his tongue. “Do you belong here?”

You think to try to get up from his lap, but his other arm has worked to secure you to him tightly. The security men aren’t even glancing in your direction. No one would hear you over the music blasting if you tried to scream, and if this man was as important as his inflated ego suggested, no one would likely even help you.

You’ve done everything thus far to get out from underneath the rich man’s thumb, but it feels like every time you take one step forward, something pushed two steps back.

Do you belong anywhere? No where feels like home after your dad passed. Tears stung into your eyes. Why were you thinking of him at a time like this? He can’t save you now.

The man’s lips twitched into a smirk as he saw the tears building in your eyes. That alone was confirmation enough. You didn’t belong here at all.

His other hand reaches up to your face, and he gently strokes your cheek — a contrast to how tightly he was holding your hair. “Such a pretty crier,” he deep gravely voice coos to you.

You can’t even help it at this point. You try to blink the water away from your eyes, but the tears slip down your cheeks anyway. You just silently cursed yourself for ruining your own makeup.

“You’re a crybaby, aren’t you?” he asked as his fingers brush against your pouty lips, and he grabs your chin carefully. “Open.”

Accepting defeat, your lips part ever so slightly for him, and you can feel the way his heart races in his chest from the sight. He narrowly eyes you as two of his fingers slip past your lips.

You’re momentarily stunned from his thick fingers filling your mouth. You feel a thrum between your thighs, but you try to ignore it. Surely, your body was just betraying you, and his body was betraying him. You were able to feel every inch of his hard on through his slacks. The sight of your tears only served to spur him on further.

When you give his fingers a light suckle, he purrs a praise for you. Leisurely, he thrusts his digits in and out from your mouth. He admires the way you accept them in without a single complaint.

“Such a good girl for me. Try a little harder,” his voice darkly instructs you as he slides his fingers deeper past your tongue, hitting your inexperienced throat.

Your throat involuntarily constricts, causing you to gag and cry more. You hum around his fingers as you whimper. He merely laughs at your pitiful display.

“We’ll have to train your cute little throat to take more, won’t we?” he asked, making a dull ache settle in your lower stomach. You had never done anything like this, and the way he was treating all this so casually filled you with some sort of… excitement.

His words also struck you with fear as you realized this meant he was likely far from being done with his antics.

His fingers continue until you’ve coated them in a thin sheen of saliva. When he pulled from you, you were panting even though he hadn’t taken away your ability to breathe.

He smirked as he gazed at you as if he can tell that your cunt is clenching around nothing right now. It’s like he knows every perverse desire you’ve fantasized about in your alone time.

“You’re a vision, doll. I’m going to have so much fun breaking you,”

Before you could even think to inquire what he meant by that, an unfamiliar male voice spoke up to your side, causing you to flinch slightly. The other man was dressed in basic business attire, but he had a scrappier look to him.

“Sir?”

The stranger tensed, and you could practically see all the playful taunting energy in his face melt away. He stared daggers into the newcomer’s soul. “Speak.”

“Members of the Gojo clan were spotted near Dante’s 7th circle,”

“Dammit, what a pest,” the pink-haired male growled. He clearly didn’t fancy being interrupted.

You perked up a little from the mention of the infamous Gojo clan. You had heard plenty of whispers about the clan fluttering about on campus, and the clan had been brought up momentarily in your organized gangs class before the professor quickly shut down the conversation.

Yakuza clans were talked about in school, but the professors were very careful about what they chose to say, knowing that members were everywhere amongst them.

The stranger carefully moved you from his lap, and he stood up, gathering himself before turning to you. “You behave. I have to go tend to something, but I’ll be back for you,” he said as he reached into his coat, and he casually tossed a whole clip of yen onto the table.

Your eyes widened at the stack of money sitting on the table, and your heart began to race. It felt like the last two hours had been a complete blur, but now, you were face with a thick stack of money — probably enough to cover you for at least three months… and you weren’t even done with your shift yet.

Your excitement was quickly overshadowed by fear. He was coming back for you. How intertwined had you gotten yourself into this mess?

taglist: @theuniversesnepobaby

[dvrk-moon]

LOVE ME NOT - YANG JUNGWON

— synopsis: fake dating your enemy, yang jungwon, for the sake of getting your mutual friends to stop playing matchmaker is the worst idea you’ve ever heard in your life. however, it’s a bit more enticing when $100 is thrown in the mix.

— word count: 21k

— warnings: cursing, suggestive jokes, stupid teenager activities, classism

— featuring: ive wonyoung, bnd taesan, zb1 gyuvin, nwjns minji, + more 04 liner idols

— genre: enemies-to-lovers, fake dating, SLOW burn, jungwon x fem!reader, private high school au

— playlist: kiss with a fist - florence + the machine, r u mine - arctic monkeys, the way i loved you - taylor swift, you get me so high - arctic monkeys, norman fucking rockwell - lana del rey, make up your mind - florence + the machine (feat. fire burning - sean kingston, come on eileen - dexy’s midnight runners for part 17)

— a/n: lowkey so relieved this is over and finally written after FOREVER. in the same breath i am so sad because this fic has been in the works for years (at least 3) and to see it finally written is so bittersweet :( thank you to everyone who supported me while writing this !!! i love you all so much !!!

— taglist: @jwonistic @ilovejungwonandhaechan @wensurr @yyawnjun @slvtella @dimplewonie @ch4c0nnenh4

i. GOD-DAMN, MAN CHILD

The wind always blows when you don’t want it to.

At least, that’s what it feels like.

You were sat on a bench outside of the country club owned by your friend’s family. They were crazily wealthy, owning not only a country club but also many vacation homes and businesses. That was pretty much a given though, especially since you had met your friend at a private and prestigious academy. Everyone that attended the school was extremely well off in a sense. Most of the students had parents who were business owners, political figures, or even celebrities. To say that you were an outlier would be an understatement.

You didn’t come from wealth. In fact, you were one of the only students at your school to not come from wealth. You were offered a scholarship for your academics; last year, you had an opportunity from your old school to take a test that offered a scholarship to your current academy if you scored well. Only the top five scorers would be granted admission. You and four other students were awarded with the scholarship.

Unfortunately, that meant that you had left a completely different life behind. Your two best friends from childhood, Minji and Gyuvin, were both in support of your academic opportunity, but neither of them had passed the test, so you were left alone. A new, clean slate at a school where you knew next to no one.

Your new classmates made no effort to help you fit in. In fact, most of them ridiculed you for coming from a lower class. It was expected when mingling with snotty prep school kids, but it still hurt. The only person that hadn’t singled you out was Wonyoung.

She was easily the most popular girl there, but she still brought you under her wing. This caused the others to be slightly kinder to you, but only in her presence.

So here you were, sat on a bench, outside of her family’s country club, swinging your legs and glancing at the tennis court in front of you. It was late March, and though the weather reports had said that it would be nice enough outside to wear a skirt, your legs were cursing you because of the wind.

Wonyoung had gone inside temporarily to go fetch the two boys that you were going to play tennis with. She’d left about two minutes ago, telling you that she just had to run down to the entrance gate and she’d be back as soon as possible.

You fidgeted with the hem of the skirt you were wearing. It wasn’t even yours; it was Wonyoung’s, and she had let you borrow it for today. You laughed at yourself, because here you were, at a country club, yet the clothes you were wearing weren’t even yours. From an outsiders perspective, you seemed rich. Everyone else could tell the truth, though.

Another breeze passed by and you stood up, walking towards the door. You weren’t sure how much longer you’d have to wait, so you figured that you may as well wait inside.

As if on cue, Wonyoung exited the door with the two boys. You knew both of them from school. Honestly, you liked Wonyoung’s boyfriend. His name was Taesan. He was always nice to you, and never made you feel bad for being of a lower class.

The other boy, however, seemed to have a personal vendetta against you, and you had no idea why. He didn’t seem to like you from the first day you met, even though you’d been nice to him from the get-go. If you had to guess why he didn’t like you, it was probably for the same reason that none of your other peers seemed to like you: your wealth status.

Jungwon was his name, and aside from being a major jerk to you, he was extremely intelligent. Ever since you arrived at the school, you’d been one of the top ranked students. It made sense, too, as you were permitted into the school based on your academics. Jungwon was ranked second to you in most classes. You figured that could be another reason.

As soon as you met eyes with Jungwon, he rolled his own and shook his head. He was donned in the most prestigious tennis outfit you’d ever seen, which was saying a lot, given as this country club was flooded with rich and pretentious tennis players.

“Okay,” Wonyoung started, walking over to you, “now that we are all here, do you guys want to warm up?”

“Yeah,” Jungwon said, looking away from you, “let’s warm up.”

You didn’t miss how Jungwon slightly shoulder-checked you as he walked towards the tennis courts.

You entered the fenced-in courts, and another breeze blew in your direction. As a reaction, you shivered, making Wonyoung giggle as she made her way towards you.

“Sorry about the hold up,” she started, bouncing a tennis ball on the court, practicing her serving. She looked over at the other side of the court, where Jungwon and Taesan were situated. She laughed, “but those two were taking forever. They’re weird.” She offered you an apologetic smile.

“It’s fine,” you said, “I was just afraid you wouldn’t come back. I stick out like a sore thumb here.”

Wonyoung frowned, “No you don’t, Y/N. I don’t think a single person here batted an eye while I was gone.”

“You were gone,” you teased, “how would you know?”

“I know lots of things,” she commented, “I know lots and lots of things.”

You bounced the tennis ball on the court as you laughed at her words, “Whatever you say.”

After about five minutes of warming up and a dirty look exchanged with Jungwon later, Wonyoung announced, “Okay, let’s get to playing! Do we wanna do singles or doubles?”

“Let’s do doubles,” Taesan said, walking towards the net. He patted Jungwon on the back, “and Jungwon, you can be partners with Y/N. Is that okay with you guys?”

Wonyoung turned to you, “It’s fine with me as long as you’re okay with it.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Taesan started walking over to Wonyoung, so you took that as your cue to go ahead and walk to the side Jungwon was on. Even though you knew Jungwon wasn’t your biggest fan, you still attempted formalities with him.

“Good luck,” you commented, looking at him. You sent him a little smile, “I’ll play to the best of my ability, but I don’t play often. So, sorry in advance.”

“I’m not surprised.” Jungwon replied under his breath, thinking that you wouldn’t hear. You decided to just ignore him and play to the best of your ability, like you said you would.

The first game started with Wonyoung serving and you receiving, but the first game was cut relatively short with an easy 40-15 that ended in your team’s loss.

The rest of the games of the first set ended very similarly, to no surprise. Wonyoung’s family owned the country club. Of course she would be good at the game.

So far, you and Jungwon had only won two sets out of the seven played. Wonyoung and Taesan only needed to win one more set to win the match.

Jungwon, quite obviously, was extremely frustrated at this loss. Very early on, you’d learned that he was a sore loser, and that you being bad at tennis definitely wasn’t helping soothe his anger.

After the final set that ended up in, surprise, a win for Wonyoung and Taesan, the two winners went to take a quick victory break while they left you and Jungwon to “discuss game strategies” as they phrased it.

In the three minutes that they’d been gone, no words were exchanged between you and Jungwon. He was just repeatedly slamming the tennis ball into the court and catching it when it bounced back. The air was tense, but you still tried to make conversation.

“Sorry about that.”

“Your horrible playing?” Jungwon snidely remarked, “Yeah. Thanks for the apology, but that doesn’t change that you’re making us lose.”

You furrowed your eyebrows at him, “You’re acting like this is life or death. It’s just tennis.”

“Yeah, it may be just tennis to you. But some people, of… higher class… take it more seriously than people like you would. So I don’t expect you to understand.”

“People like me?!” You laughed incredulously, surprised at his audacity. You tried your best to keep your voice down to not draw any attention towards you two, but with his attitude, it was difficult.

“Yeah, people like you. Did I stutter?” He asked snarky.

Your words got caught in your mouth- most of the time when people were mean to you, you’d just either ask them what they said (even when you’d heard it) or you’d repeat what they said to you, and that usually made them back off. Clearly this wasn’t the case for Jungwon, though, as he was completely okay with repeating himself and not even thinking twice about what he said to you. You groaned, turning away from him, “You’re not nice.”

“And you’re bad at tennis.”

“At least I’m good at math…” you trailed off, semi-hoping that he wouldn’t hear. You were better than Jungwon when it came to math, and that was a sensitive topic for him. But, if he wanted to ridicule your tennis-playing skills, then you would ridicule his mathematical abilities.

The tennis ball that was being aggressively bounced into the court stopped. You didn’t need to look at Jungwon to know his eyes were boring holes into the back of your head.

“What did you say?” Jungwon seethed out, taking a step closer to you.

“Nothing…” you trailed off, facing him, “it’s just that… I don’t need to be good at tennis. I’m smart.”

“Psh.” Jungwon rolled his eyes at you, “At least my parents can pay for good schooling. Sucks that yours have to mooch off of a scholarship.”

You rolled your eyes back, very slightly raising your voice at him, “Yeah. Imagine your parents having to pay for the same schooling that I get. And I get it for free.”

Before any more words could be exchanged, Wonyoung and Taesan returned with canned drinks, one in each hand for the both of them and for you and Jungwon. Wonyoung smiled, “We brought you guys back something to drink!”

You felt most of your anger dissipate at Wonyoung’s return, smiling at her. She and Taesan entered the courts once again and you met her in the middle, “Thank you.”

“Of course. Taesan also brought something for Jungwon.”

You nodded as she handed you the beverage, cracking it open and taking a drink. The cold liquid felt like a good refresher to the heated argument that was just beginning to unfold minutes ago.

“I’m glad that you and Jungwon seem to be getting along.” Wonyoung commented, nearly making you choke on the drink. She tucked a piece of hair behind her ears, “You guys wouldn’t make a bad couple.”

ii. SO SIT BACK AND WATCH THE BED BURN

You rolled yourself across your twin-sized mattress as you turned to face your two best friends, Minji and Gyuvin. You’d called them over to your family’s apartment to catch up, which was a much needed occasion, as you three hadn’t had much time to talk recently.

Minji and Gyuvin had just entered your bedroom door and stepped into your room, which was littered in posters, pictures, and art. Your room had always been cluttered (or “used to its maximum capacity” as your mother liked to phrase it) like this so your best friends weren’t surprised at anything when they walked in.

“Thanks for knocking.” You sarcastically remarked, pushing yourself onto your forearms to look at them. You watched as your two friends made their ways to the area in front of the foot of your bed, and saw as Minji took a seat on the rug on your floor. Gyuvin opted to take your desk chair and roll it to sit next to Minji, yet be eye-level with you.

“You look stressed,” Gyuvin commented, teasing you, “but what else is new.”

You flopped your face into your bed and let out a muffled and sarcastic, “Ha, ha.”

You heard a smacking sound and then an “Ow!” from Gyuvin. Minji stood up and made you scoot over so she could lay next to you in your bed, “Ignore him. His panties are in a twist right now for some reason.”

You turned your head to the left to look at her for a moment before dramatically flopping back into the mattress.

Minji patted your head, “What’s wrong, Y/N? You’re not usually this dramatic when we come over.”

Gyuvin stifled a laugh before quieting as soon as Minji sent him a pointed look.

You dramatically rolled over to face the ceiling of your room, “Why are boys so horrible?”

“Oh, don’t tell me you have a crush,” Minji groaned, “I’m no good with those.”

“No, no!” You rushed to correct her, not missing how Gyuvin was taunting in the mean time. He sung, “Ooh~ Y/N has a crush!”

“He is not a crush! He’s the worst person I’ve ever met!”

“Come on, Y/N,” Minji poked you, “he can’t be the worst person you’ve ever met. Think about Gyuvin!”

You rolled your eyes at Gyuvin, who was still taunting you with his song, “Gyuvin, shut the hell up!”

You watched as Minji lifted a hand that threatened to fall onto Gyuvin’s exposed thigh, and to which Gyuvin immediately shut up.

“What guy are you talking about?” Minji asked, looking back down at you.

“He’s this guy from the new school. He’s such an asshole to me for no reason. I mean, there might be a reason, but I can’t think of a valid one.”

“What does he do?” Gyuvin pitched in, finally getting his attention piqued from the conversation at hand.

“Like, everything?” You let out, “I’m not even sure where to start.”

“Saying ‘everything’ gives us no idea what this guy does, Y/N.”

You groaned dramatically before filling your friends in on the entire situation with Jungwon:

“I haven’t really told you guys about this guy before,” you started, using your hands to explain your story. Minji nodded as you told your story, while Gyuvin was spinning in his chair endlessly. You continued, “but there’s a guy at the new school, his name is Jungwon. Yang Jungwon.”

“Yang Y/N~” Gyuvin teased. Minji reached over to harshly smack his leg.

You rolled your eyes, “Anyways, he’s basically the worst person I’ve ever met. His dad runs a corporation of local gas stations, so he’s basically filthy rich. I say this because not only is he like every other private school kid that makes fun of my wealth status, but he’s also threatened to sue my parents multiple times. Most of the time he has no reason.

“The reason I’m so particularly upset about him is because I went to my school friends’ country club. You guys remember Wonyoung?” They both nodded, because as Wonyoung was your closest private school friend, of course your actual closest friends knew about her existence.

“Okay,” you said, “so we were at her country club, but her boyfriend and his friend are also there, and you’ll never guess who the friend is! Jungwon!

“He’s an ass to me basically the whole time while I’ve been trying to be nice to him,” you sighed, “I don’t know what his problem is. I didn’t even do anything to him. Anyways, we were partnered up because we were playing doubles tennis at the country club, because Wonyoung wanted to be on the same team as her boyfriend. That’s understandable, and I haven’t held it against her or anything. But he is not only a sore loser, but just a jerk to me.”

Minji nodded in sympathy at you while Gyuvin made his presence known, “Kill him. Easy as that.”

“You’re sick in the head, you know that?” MInji questioned him.

“He’s a private school kid, Y/N.” Gyuvin said, standing up from the chair to stand over you. “I really don’t know what you’re expecting from someone like him. He’s probably never been told ‘No’ in his life.”

“I’m also a private school kid…” you murmured.

“Yeah, but you weren’t brought up that way. He undoubtedly was.” Gyuvin said.

You nodded, “You’re right.”

“Always am.”

“The problem is that it’s my senior year,” you lamented, “and I don’t want it to be bad just because some pest can’t leave me alone. I just don’t know how to get rid of him.”

“You could always drop out.” Gyuvin offered, going to sit back down in the chair.

“That’s a horrible idea,” Minji said, “don’t listen to him. I’m sure that as long as you don’t pay much mind to this Jungwon guy then you’ll be fine. Plus, you have Wonyoung. They’re basically the same height, and she could probably beat him in a fight.”

You laughed, “I don’t know, I like Wonyoung a lot, but she’s basically Ivy Hills royalty. She has a reputation to manage. I’m sure fighting with Jungwon wouldn’t do her much good.”

“I would pay money to see that fight.” Gyuvin announced.

“You’re weird.”

“My mind is an enigma. I wouldn’t expect commonfolk like you to understand.”

iii. JUST SO FRUSTRATING

The halls of Ivy Hills Private Academy never failed to make your head hurt.

The utter abundance of students flooding the halls and blocking every locker at 7:30am was absolutely astounding to you. Not one person there paid any mind to you, and if by chance they did, it was a slight shove or a snarky comment. The bright, fluorescent lights surely didn’t help. You tried your hardest to blend into the background, but even though you were donned in the same uniform as all your peers, somehow you still stuck out like a sore thumb to them. It was almost like they could feel your class difference radiating off of you.

Wonyoung was one of the only people who made you feel normal. The only way that others would treat you kindly was if she was also present, since she was basically the school’s princess. You had just received a text from her that read:

good morning !! do you wanna get some food this weekend? it’s on me :)

You had no idea what your plans were for the weekend; it was only Tuesday after all. But you were sure that as long as you weren’t scheduled to work, you’d be doing nothing else. Besides, Wonyoung was always great to be around. You had yet to respond to her text, needing to not only check your schedule but also run the plans by your parents before you acted on anything. They really liked Wonyoung, so you doubted there would be a problem, but it was always best to check.

You sighed, tucking your phone into your bag while walking to your locker. You were mandated to keep your phone stowed away somewhere, and as a student at the school with a scholarship, you wanted to abide by any rules. You couldn’t risk the possibility of getting the scholarship pulled from you; you didn’t have the privilege to keep the school quiet with monetary bribes like others did. You snapped out of your train of thought and started to unlock your locker to put the majority of your textbooks away. The first class on your schedule was AP Calculus BC, one of the tougher classes at Ivy Hills, but you found it relatively easy.

Of course, it was one of the classes you shared with Jungwon.

It would be okay. You’d just do your best to not get into any quarrels with him.

You left your locker and walked quickly to your Calculus class, wasting no time to converse with others or engage in any sort of interaction with them. The Calculus class was only a hallway down from your locker, but it would still be difficult to get in there quickly with the amount of students crowding the halls. You cradled your school bag in your arms and tried your best to not run into anyone.

The AP Calculus BC teacher was possibly the stingiest educator you’d ever witnessed. She refused to let people turn anything in late, she refused to give extensions, and she refused to accept wrong answers. You’d learned this very early on in her class; one of your female peers forgot to turn her homework packet until the end of the bell, and your teacher almost didn’t even let her turn it in. You were sure she only let the girl turn it in due to the amount of points the packet was worth, and a lack of turning it in would surely result in a failing grade in the class.

You quickly found your assigned seat near the window on the far wall. The sun was still rising above the horizon, and your window seat gave a beautiful view of the sight. The sunlight spilled into the room like a calm water fountain, leaving you smiling without realizing.

Sitting down at your desk, you placed your bag to the right of your seat and opened it to pull out your binder, textbook, calculator, and a pencil. You usually opted to use mechanical pencils, but they’d all somehow gone missing, so you were forced to use a wooden one. You grabbed your pencil sharpener from your bag just to be safe.

As you lifted your head back up, you saw a face that nearly made you jump. It was Yang Jungwon, who happened to have an assigned seat right next to you in this class. Just your luck. It made sense, having the two smartest people in the class next to each other. Your teacher didn’t have to worry about any cheating on tests, at the very least.

Jungwon had one strap of his backpack looped around his right shoulder and the left side was just hanging. He was talking with some friends. You didn’t know their names, yet you were positive that they’d at least called you ‘poor’ once before. Not surprising coming from friends of Jungwon.

You started pulling out a work packet from your binder and flipped to the page in the textbook that the teacher had written on the board: 295. Sure, class hadn’t started yet, but that doesn’t mean you couldn’t get ready for it to start. You were eager to finish this last unit; the last month or so of class would be spent reviewing for the AP test. You were nearly positive you’d receive a score of five.

Out of the corner of your eye, you watched Jungwon make his way to his desk, the one to your right. He sneered at your presence, “Already got your stuff out, huh? God, what a nerd.”

Rolling your eyes, you responded, “Thanks. We’re in the same class so that also makes you a nerd.”

“There’s still time until class starts,” he said, “no need to get your stuff out ten minutes early.”

“No need to be a prick ten minutes early. Come bother me during school hours, Jungwon. Give me my ten minutes of peace while I still have them.”

Surprisingly to you, he turned away and stopped himself from snapping back.

Your ten minutes of peace quickly felt like thirty seconds when Jungwon returned to his seat at the beginning of class.

Your teacher had immediately tasked you and your classmates with pairing up with the four people closest to you; your group was you, Jungwon, a girl named Sull Yoona, and another boy named Leehan. The aforementioned two weren’t the kindest to you, but when compared with how Jungwon treated you, you were a dutchess. The groups were assigned to work on the work packet and solve fifteen problems by the end of the class period, which was roughly an hour away. You dreaded what was to come, but sucked it up. Yoona and Leehan were smart enough. Plus, conversations would be minimal anyways.

The answers you all shared majorly coincided with one another, yet there was one — problem 13 — where Jungwon and Leehan got a different answer, and refused to change their answers to fit yours. You didn’t care too much, you were sure that your and Yoona’s answer was the correct one.

“Jungwon,” you tried to reason, “the question isn’t asking for the distance traveled. It’s asking for the displacement.”

“I’m not listening to you, Y/N.” He huffed, “You tried to tell us that the last question’s answer was that the limit does not exist.”

“Okay,” you admitted, “I made a calculation error. But I’m sure that I’m right about this one.”

“I don’t care. We’ll see who’s right at the end of class.”

Another fifteen minutes passed and there was ten minutes left of class, and as most of your classmates had finished, your teacher called on a different group for each problem to answer and explain how they got what they did.

When the teacher got to question 13, it was your group’s turn to answer. Jungwon immediately stepped up to the question. His answer, which he announced confidently, was “8 meters”.

Your teacher frowned at Jungwon, “That is not the correct answer. Can someone else from the group answer differently? And maybe correctly this time? How about Y/N?”

You smiled at your teacher, “I got -5 1/3 meters.”

“That is correct. Thank you, Y/N.”

You didn’t miss how Jungwon gave you a nasty side eye when you answered correctly. The teacher quickly moved onto the next group with question 14.

Wanting to push his buttons slightly more, you leaned to your right and whispered, “I hope you realize I got into this school for a reason.”

iv. YOU CALL THE SHOTS

It was now Saturday: the day that Wonyoung had asked you to get food with her. Over the week you’d agreed to go get lunch with her on Saturday, and decided on a locally owned Italian restaurant to eat at.

It was a complete shock to you to find out that Taesan and Jungwon were also going to be at this lunch.

Wonyoung didn’t tell you, and you were sure there was no malicious intent, but the irony of this happening to you twice was slowly chipping away at your sanity.

When you arrived at the restaurant to find Jungwon and Taesan already waiting for you two, you fought every urge in your body to roll your eyes at Jungwon’s presence.

“You’re here!” Taesan called once he laid his eyes on Wonyoung. He embraced her quickly before turning to you, “Hello, Y/N. Great seeing you too.” There were no hints of sarcasm in his words, but you weren’t sure how great you felt seeing him. Not like you hated Taesan, but the growth that followed him around (Jungwon) definitely didn’t make you happy.

As if on cue, the host came back with menus and led the four of you to your table. When Wonyoung had mentioned food, you made the wrong assumption of going somewhere casual; the fact that Wonyoung was filthy rich somehow slipped your mind. There was no way you could afford most of the items they sold here, but since Wonyoung was paying, you let yourself relax a bit.

Wonyoung and Taesan were the two that are following closest behind the host, leaving you and Jungwon to be the last two in the group. You tried your best to slightly trail behind him, not wanting any altercations (especially in front of Wonyoung), but to your dismay, Jungwon had other plans in mind.

He slowed his pace just slightly to make a little snarky remark, “I hope you know that if Wonyoung wasn’t your wallet, you’d never step foot in any place like this.”

His words hurt, but it wasn’t anything that you weren’t already used to. You ignored him and picked up your pace slightly.

When you reached the table, Wonyoung and Taesan (unsurprisingly) chose to sit next to each other, leaving you and Jungwon to occupy the remaining seats. You braced yourself for what you thought would be a peaceful lunch turning into a living Hell.

Lunch, shockingly, went a lot smoother than you had anticipated it would be. Jungwon mostly kept his comments under wraps, and nothing he said was hurtful enough to actually provoke you into retorting with something potentially worse.

Near the end of the meal, Wonyoung excused herself to go to the bathroom. Seeing this as the perfect opportunity to finally be able to talk to her without the boys around, you leapt up and joined her.

Once in the bathroom, Wonyoung immediately went into a stall while you stood in front of the luxurious sink. You adjusted your clothes and some of your makeup while she occupied herself.

Once the toilet flushed and you were sure there wasn’t anyone else in the bathroom, you spoke up and finally popped a question to Wonyoung:

“Can I ask you something?”

Wonyoung emerged from the stall and walked to the sink next to the one you occupied. She turned on the water, “Sure, what’s up?”

“How come you haven’t been telling me when Jungwon and Taesan will be joining us at stuff? I don’t mind it all too much, but I feel like I’m being led into it blindfolded instead.”

“Oh, I-” she stopped herself, an indecipherable look on her face. She finished washing her hands and turned to you, “I’m sorry about not telling you, first of all. I’ll make sure to be more transparent about it in the future.”

“Thank you,” you said, “but my question is why are they there all the time? I understand Taesan; that’s your boyfriend. But Jungwon and I have no relation outside of being the assumed valedictorian and salutatorian of our graduating class.”

“Well,” Wonyoung smiled, “Taesan and I just think you guys are so cute together. Like, not only are you both geniuses, but you’re also both Taesan’s and my respective closest friends!”

You tilted your head, wanting her to continue.

“Listen, Y/N.” She grabbed your hand, her cold and dainty hands wrapping themselves around your right one. She smiled genuinely, “You’ve just been able to help me so much, so I want to return the favor! You deserve someone like Jungwon. He’s smart, he’s a gentleman, his dad has a lot of power, he’s athletic.”

You pursed your lips at her.

“Plus,” she continued, “with you two being the most intelligent students in the school, can you imagine the cute study dates? I’m just getting giddy thinking about it!!”

“Wonyoung…” you started carefully, “I think I’m okay. I should probably worry more about school than any potential relationship right now anyways.”

“If you say so,” Wonyoung removed her hands from yours, “but I’m still rooting for this. The second you tell me to back off, I will, but for now, Taesan and I are going to try to help you two from the sidelines.”

v. HOPE YOU DON’T REGRET IT

The following day, you, Minji, and Gyuvin were all situated at Minji’s house, in her living room. Minji was sitting in an armchair, Gyuvin was on the sofa, and you were sprawled out on the floor, in yet another dramatic mood.

You recapped your two best friends on the incidental Saturday lunch, not missing any details. Starting from the presence of Jungwon, and especially up to the comment Wonyoung made about you two getting together. The whole entire story was crazy to you and reliving it through your storytelling made you almost shiver in fear.

“And she went, ‘we will help you from the sidelines’,” you lamented, “like who says that?! I get that she has no idea about the rivalry, but he and I aren’t even cute together. He’s short.”

Gyuvin let out a hearty laugh at your comment, “Y/N, if he’s short, then you are also short.”

“Besides the point!”

“Your life does not even sound real,” Minji said, “and it’s so hard to not laugh, I’m sorry.”

You groaned from your spot on the floor, sending Minji a side eye, “Is my life some joke to you two?!”

“A little bit.” Gyuvin laughed out.

You rolled your eyes and flipped over onto your stomach, “This is so not funny.”

“Have you thought about just telling Wonyoung to back off?” Minji asked.

“Yeah, I have, thanks.” You replied to her sarcastically. You craned your neck to look at your best friend, “I haven’t done it because I know for a fact she would ask why. And I don’t wanna get into all of that, especially because her boyfriend is best friends with the devil in question.”

Minji snorted, “You two should just fake date. That’d get Wonyoung to back off.”

You immediately sat up, “Are you crazy?! Absolutely not!”

Gyuvin agreed from his spot, “Minji has a point. Maybe you two could even become friends along the way.”

Shaking your head profusely, you shot a look at Gyuvin, then at Minji, “You guys are crazy.”

“What if,” Minji proposed, “you did it for money? You just told us about how your workplace is shutting down. Plus, you need the money. You’re broke as fuck.”

“Ouch.”

“She’s right, I hate to admit it.” Gyuvin said, shrugging.

“Oh, absolutely not. I may be broke but not broke enough to date Yang Jungwon, even if it’s fake.”

“How about this?” Gyuvin challenged, “If you can successfully fake date this guy until your pretentious-ass Ivy Hills Ball dance in a couple weeks, I’ll give you $50. But only if you also go to the dance with him.”

“It’s like you want me to kill myself.”

“I’ll also give you $50.” Minji said, raising her eyebrows.

The Ivy Hills Ball dance was essentially a more talked-up prom, but from what you’d heard, it was held in an old music hall and the funding was insane. To have that experience be ruined by having Jungwon as a date did not sound enticing in the slightest, but $100 dollars did.

Plus, Gyuvin was right. It would only be a couple weeks.

“You guys drive a hard fucking bargain, I hate you two.”

“Damn,” Gyuvin laughed, “your ass really is broke. $100 to date your alleged enemy, and you’re sold.”

“I haven’t agreed!” You reasoned, trying to defend yourself.

“We both know you will, Y/N.” Minji cocked an eyebrow.

“I really, really hate you two.”

vi. YOU GAVE A KICK, I GAVE A SLAP

Any consideration you had towards fake dating Jungwon was almost thrown out the window on the next Wednesday.

It was your AP Physics bell, which, surprise, was shared with Jungwon.

After almost trying to embarrass you in front of the class (yet luckily failing), you had to fight every urge inside to not curse him out right in that moment.

You breathed heavily out at him, “Jungwon, if you keep bothering Hanni and I, we’ll never finish this lab. And neither will you.”

“You say that like you’re smart enough to finish this lab even if I wasn’t bothering you.”

You didn’t miss how Hanni immediately widened her eyes and focused her attention back onto her lab notebook. Other classmates’ attention was caught from Jungwon’s loud comment, making your face flush a bright red.

Breathing out heavily, you sent Jungwon the most nasty look you could muster. Blinking once at him, “Shut up, Yang. Shut up for once in your goddamn life.”

Jungwon cocked an eyebrow at you, slightly smirking. He placed down his pencil, “Why don’t you make me?”

You started at him, not breaking eye contact. Of course you couldn’t ‘make him’ shut up, but that wouldn’t stop you from trying to kill him with your gaze.

“That’s what I thought,” he remarked, “all bark but no bite. Typical Y/N.”

“You’re the worst person I’ve ever met.”

“The feeling is mutual.”

vii. AND I CAN’T LOOK YOU IN THE EYES

The following weekend, you found yourself at Wonyoung’s mansion with Taesan and Jungwon. This time, Wonyoung had warned you that Jungwon and Taesan would be present, yet you still decided to go. Because who was Yang Jungwon to dictate when you could and couldn’t hang out with Wonyoung?

Wonyoung had recently opened her pool back up and invited the three of you over to be the first to swim in it. You happily accepted, having no other plans for the day and promising yourself that you wouldn’t let Jungwon’s presence bother you.

While in the pool, you kept letting your mind drift to the bet that Minji and Gyuvin had proposed to you earlier that week. The $100 sounded really appealing, and potentially getting Wonyoung off your back about getting you and Jungwon together would also be nice.

Noticing your distancing, Wonyoung swam up to you, “What’s wrong? Is everything okay?”

You snapped out of your thoughts and looked at her, “Yeah, yeah. Everything’s fine, just thinking.”

She nodded at you while you pondered whether taking a break inside would be good to clear your mind for the time being. You decided that at the moment, that seemed best. You spoke again, “Actually, I think I’m gonna go inside to get a drink. Is that okay?”

“Yeah,” she smiled, “of course. Make sure to dry off well before you go in though.”

You nodded at her, watching her swim away back to Taesan while you swam to the pool steps and got out. You quickly found your towel and sandals, then went to the door that led back into the house.

You wrapped the towel around your shoulders and dried your feet on the bath mat that the Jangs had outside their home. Opening the door, you took one last look at the three in the pool, accidentally locking eyes with Jungwon. You furrowed your eyebrows and entered the house.

You entered the house of your friend and approached the kitchen where there was lemon water waiting in a pitcher. Of course, the rich family drank lemon water. You put ice into your newly found cup and sighed. While pouring yourself a glass, you heard the back door open and close again, signifying someone was also coming inside the house. You hoped it was Wonyoung, or even Taesan, but you were disappointed when you saw Jungwon’s figure walk towards the kitchen.

At his presence, your mind came back to the bet. You really needed the money right now, and getting Wonyoung off your back about him would also be a major plus.

Jungwon strode his way into the kitchen, passing you to grab a can of what appeared to be some seltzer water. His hair was still wet and his body was damp, him having done an obviously half-assed job at drying himself off. His towel was wrapped around his waist, but what drew you in was his body. Had he always had this attractive of a figure?

“I think you have a staring problem.” He said, smirking at you and making you snap out of your daze. You cleared your throat and felt heat rise to your cheeks.

“I don’t,” you clarified, “I was just… spacing out.”

“Sure.”

A layer of silence fell over the two of you, you avoiding looking at Jungwon in order to not inflate his ego any further. Your mind went back to the bet. Would this be an appropriate time?

You quickly decided, fuck it, and cleared your throat once more to get his attention, “Jungwon.”

He rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated breath through his nose, but answered, “What?”

“I, um,” you tried to find the words, “I have a really.. interesting.. hypothetical for you. Could be good, could be bad, just- a hypothetical.”

He raised an eyebrow at you questioningly, “Go on…”

“So,” you got a hold of yourself finally. This was just Jungwon you were talking to; if he declined your suggestion to the bet, you’d live. You looked at him, “I can’t be the only one that’s being bothered by Wonyoung and Taesan about the two of us getting together, right?”

Jungwon paused but then answered, “You aren’t.”

“Okay,” you continued, “so I recently saw some of my closest friends and they know about the whole thing. They came up with the proposal for you and I to fake date. Before you say anything, I’m not exactly thrilled either, but I think it would work. I’m sure you’re not too happy to be forced to be around me all the time either.”

“I feel like there’s an ulterior motive here,” Jungwon replied, “so tell me what it is you’re gaining out of this.”

“Getting Wonyoung off my back, of course. I also may be getting paid $100 by my friends to fake date you.”

“Why would you be getting paid?” He asked, crossing his arms.

“They know we don’t like each other, so they think it’s funny. They said if we successfully date until the dance, I’ll get the money.”

“This sounds really stupid.” Jungwon said, disgusted.

“I’ll give you half the money,” you offered, “I promise.”

Jungwon scoffed, “You think I need the money? Funny joke.”

You rolled your eyes, “Okay, rich boy,” you started walking back towards the door that went to the pool, “whatever. As long as you’re fine with Wonyoung and Taesan never leaving us alone, then suit yourself.”

You stopped in your tracks, turning over your shoulder to finish your ment:

“I didn’t expect you of all people to say yes, anyway.”

You watched as Jungwon cocked an eyebrow, his tongue prodding his cheek. He swallowed, taking quick steps toward you before you could open the door.

“Y/N,” he said, suddenly sounding challenged, “wait. Let’s discuss this.”

viii. IT’S JUST WHAT YOU DO

The following Monday, you were sat next to Jungwon in your Calculus class, supposedly listening to a lecture. Having not discussed the concrete rules with Jungwon yet, you decided that passing him a note to ask about if talking them through after class would be alright with him.

You ripped a corner off of your notebook paper and quickly scribbled down:

Hey. Do u wanna discuss the rules after class?

As discreetly as possible, you tapped Jungwon on the sleeve of his uniform and when he turned his head, you handed him the note. He gave you a wide-eyed look but grabbed the paper anyway.

You turned your head back to your teacher, but moments later your attention was taken by Jungwon, who had tapped on your arm instead this time. You read his handwriting:

What rules

Was he dumb? How he could be so good at math but so socially unaware was astonishing to you.

You flipped the small piece of paper once and wrote your response:

For fake dating? We need to establish rules. Unless you’ve already chickened out …

You passed the slip back to Jungwon.

Within seconds, he handed the paper back to you. His response read:

I didn’t chicken out. We don’t have much time between classes but as long as you’re fine walking the same way as me we can do it then. Make it quick though. I don’t want to be seen with you if I don’t have to be.

You stifled a laugh, and quickly wrote back:

You agreed to this, man. You’re gonna have to get used to being seen with me anyways

Jungwon read your written message and rolled his eyes. He crumpled the paper up and shoved it somewhere in his bag, never to be seen again.

Minutes later, the bell rang. You packed up your items and waited for Jungwon to finish packing his up so you could leave the class. Once finished, he started, “So?”

“Let’s walk and talk,” you said, leading the way. Jungwon was quickly on your heels. You shrugged, “the hallways will be too loud for people to overhear anyway.”

Jungwon nodded and speedily made his way next to your side in the hallway. You were right, not only was it loud, but no one would be paying any mind to you two anyway. At least hopefully.

“First off, if anyone asks, from this moment on, you and I are dating, okay?”

Jungwon breathed out a little sigh and pursed his lips, “Yep. Let’s get onto the rules now. We’ve only got so much time.”

“Okay,” you started, “first rule: this only goes until the dance. We’ll go to the dance as each other’s dates, and after that, we can ‘break up’.”

For once in his life, Jungwon agreed with you, “Sounds fine to me.”

“Great. Have any ideas for rule two?”

“Uh…” he paused, trailing off in thought. “Hm. Who is allowed to know that we’re fake dating?”

“I mean, ideally no one. But because my two other friends know, I feel like as long as it’s someone you trust that’s not close with Wonyoung or Taesan then it should be fine for you to tell them. I can’t control what you do, though, so do whatever you want, I guess.”

“Okay,” he said, “so rule two: keep it on the down-low.”

You nodded your head at him, “I have a suggestion for rule three.”

“Go ahead.”

“We can do some PDA, but kissing is unnecessary.”

“Sounds good.”

“Okay,” you continued, “rule four: if we need to ‘break up’ for any serious reason before the dance, that’s okay. We just need to let the other person know before we stage a break up.”

Jungwon nodded again, then turned his head to the left, “My class is over this way. We can message later about this.”

“Okay, see you.”

Jungwon walked into the classroom on the left and within moments, Wonyoung made her way to your side.

“Where did you come from?” You asked, surprised at her presence.

“I was walking behind you this whole time. Since when did you start going this way?”

You shrugged, “Since now.”

She painted a cheeky smile on her face, “And?”

“And what?”

“Don’t think I didn’t see you walking with Jungwon, Y/N! What was that about?!”

You feigned innocence, “Oh, nothing. Y’know.”

“I don’t,” she said, smiling widely, “I really don’t. Spill.”

“Well,” you replied, “I dunno, what do you think?”

“I think you two should date.”

You offered no response and just let your face form into a smile. Wonyoung’s eyes widened at you, “Y/N L/N. Don’t tell me.”

“Tell you what?” You responded with a smirk.

“There’s no way!” She freaked out, “You guys are dating?!”

“Possibly.”

“Y/N! I’m so happy!” Wonyoung smiled at you and grabbed your hand and gave it a squeeze. This was the most excited you’d ever seen her.

“I am too.” You said, “Could you maybe keep it on the down-low for now though? It’s really new.”

“Yeah, of course! Can I tell Taesan?”

“Go ahead, yeah,” you smiled at her, “I think he���d be pretty stoked too.”

Wonyoung pulled out her phone to text her boyfriend and a small silence settled between you two. Wonyoung was the first to break the silence once she sent the message:

“So, I was right about you two being cute together.”

You laughed, “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Wonyoung.”

ix. MAKE UP YOUR MIND

It was already a week and a half into the fake relationship and you felt like your sanity was slowly slipping away from you.

Jungwon played soccer all year long, you’d learned, and you’d started going to his games and practices. Aside from the practices as a whole being excruciatingly boring, the games weren’t bad at all. You had to admit, Jungwon was good at what he did. He had four practices during the week and two on the weekend. In the time since you’d started going to see Jungwon outside of school hours, you’d learned that he could be tolerable sometimes. Emphasis on ‘sometimes’.

You’d also learned that he was a very good actor. His teammates immediately accepted you as Jungwon’s girlfriend, and as a result, you’d earned an honorific position on the team.

It definitely helped that you could make small talk and pre-event plans when Jungwon drove you places in his expensive car. His car was probably more expensive than your family’s whole apartment.

But here you were, sitting on the bleachers at around 7pm on Tuesday night, watching Jungwon and his teammates practice. There were only about fifteen minutes left of practice, and then you were free to go home and potentially regret every decision you’d ever made.

The bright lights of the field were giving you a headache and you weren’t sure how much longer you’d be able to handle this. You took a look at where Jungwon was located on the field, taking note of his focused face as he listened to his coach. Jungwon was one of the better players on the team, and it was evident to you because of the way he talked so passionately about the game. You hated to admit, but it was nice to see him talk so fondly about something for once rather than make unprovoked mean comments towards you.

Around five minutes later, Jungwon and the team suddenly dispersed from their coach and walked towards their bags. You rested your chin on your hand and watched his figure start making its way towards you. He slung his bag over his shoulder and jogged slowly to your spot on the bleachers.

Once he reached the barrier between you and the field, he sighed, “Hey.”

“Hi,” you said, “how was practice?”

Ever since you’d started ‘dating’ Jungwon, you’d made a point to try (at the very least) to be kind to him, even if it wasn’t in front of other people. You hoped that maybe through being kind to him, it might make him be kind back. Hopefully that would make the whole fake dating process a whole lot easier.

“It was fine,” he was short with his answer, yet not necessarily cold for once, “I’m tired.”

“You look like it.” You stood up from your spot on the bleachers and walked towards the barrier to meet Jungwon in the middle.

He checked his watch, “It’s good that we got out early. I have a shit ton of Calc work to do.”

Walking out from behind the barrier, you met Jungwon. He started walking to his car and you quickly followed.

“The packet?” You questioned, picking up the pace to match with his.

You and all your classmates had your work packet that was due the following day, which was Friday. You had already finished the packet a couple days ago and had turned it into your teacher, wanting to get it off of your mind if it was out of your sight.

“Yeah,” he said, “do you have the answers?”

“I don’t have them, no,” you admitted, “I already turned my packet.”

“Shit,” he quietly exclaimed, “I don’t know how to do most of them.”

“Oh,” you replied, “I do. I’m sorry that I don’t have answers.”

“It’s fine,” he rolled his eyes.

Suddenly, it looked like Jungwon got an idea.

He turned to you, “Wait. Are you doing anything after this?”

You racked your brain to think of anything, but nothing came to mind. You turned to look at him, “No, I don’t think so.”

“Do you wanna come over and help me?”

“To your house?” You questioned.

“Yeah,” he said, confused, “where else?”

“Oh,” you said, surprised, “are you sure you’d want me there?”

“It’s fine,” he replied, “it’s just this once.”

“I mean I guess so…” you pondered, “I don’t know. It’s a school night.”

Jungwon checked his watch again, “It’s only 7:09, I don’t think it should be too bad. Unless you have a curfew?”

“I don’t…” you admitted, “I guess I could help you. But I don’t want to make you drive me there and then have to drive me all the way back home. You already picked me up, plus it’s out of the way for you.”

“Consider me driving you as a payment for you helping me… I really need the help, and would appreciate it. You’re smart.”

For the first time ever, Jungwon complimented you. It left you in a state of shock, to put it simply; you had never expected to hear Jungwon compliment you, even while fake dating.

“Thanks,” you said, “I’ll help you.”

He said nothing more as the two of you finally reached his car. He loaded his soccer bag into the back of the car and opened the drivers side door, beckoning for you to do the same.

“I don’t live far from here,” he started the car, “so it’ll be a quick drive.”

You nodded in your spot while Jungwon reversed out of his parking spot. He shifted the car into drive and quickly pulled out of the school parking lot.

Like Jungwon said, the drive was extremely quick. It was only around three minutes, so Jungwon didn’t even bother putting on the radio. He opted instead to roll down the window and not speak.

You really shouldn’t have been surprised by Jungwon’s family estate. Given just by how much money his car seemed to cost, the grandeur of his home should not have come as a shock to you. But it still did.

The gate at the beginning of the driveway seemed inviting; it looked purposefully worn down. The somewhat dingy look of something that was probably not even a year old welcomed you in, in a sense.

The driveway looked freshly paved, the black color not ever changing from erosion. There wasn’t a single crack in the pavement, and it was lined with white pillars that had lamp light illuminating from the top.

Further up the driveway, you could see four other cars. Thinking about the total cost of all the vehicles combined sent a shiver down your spine.

The house itself, which was to the left, could barely even get by being called a “house”. It was easily more than ten times the size of your family’s apartment, and if not for the trees that surrounded it, you’d assume it was a lot taller than it actually was.

The brick was white and the front of the house had pillars driving up and down to support a black roof. The lights in the house were off, giving a stark contrast to the otherwise homely feel of the entrance.

Jungwon pulled the car into the parking spot closest to the house. Once parked, he loaded himself out and went to the back seat to grab his soccer gear.

“No one’s home but us,” he said, “but my parents have cameras everywhere, so we’ll go through the garage. Leave your shoes on the doormat.”

Jungwon led you through the garage, then into the large kitchen, followed by a large living space. He then flipped on a light switch and walked you to the foyer, which was a high-ceilinged room with white walls and stairs that cascaded towards the second floor. The balcony of the second floor overlooked the foyer, and there was a large chandelier hung at the top of the ceiling.

Jungwon beckoned you towards the hardwood steps, “My room’s upstairs.”

Your attention was brought away from the chandelier and you followed as Jungwon ascended the steps towards his room. At the top of the steps, there was a hallway that extended both left and right, and there was also the other side of the balcony.

This side of the balcony overlooked a different living space, but you didn’t get a good look at it before Jungwon tried to disappear out of your sight towards the right hand side of the hallway.

He passed by a few rooms with closed doors before opening the door to the final one on the right. Jungwon walked in first and left the door open for you to enter.

His room was just as large as you anticipated it to be, with large windows on two sides of the room and a king-sized mattress in the corner of the space. You bit back any comments about the size of his bed; he was a short man, why did he need that much space?

Jungwon turned on the lamp next to his bed and dropped his soccer bags at the foot of the bedframe. His backpack was lying right in front of the bedside table, already opened. You could assume that he’d already tried to start the Calculus work yet failed. Hence why you’d needed to come over to help.

Jungwon sat on the edge of the bed and pulled his backpack onto it. You stood very awkwardly in front of him, not sure what to do; you were almost waiting for instruction from him.

Jungwon scooted back on the bed with his backpack to make room for you. He beckoned towards the now empty seat for you to sit on. You carefully sat on the edge of the bed, not even turning your knees to face his body.

“You look really weird right now.” Here came back the Jungwon you were used to, the one who threw out any sort of comment he could at you.

“I’m sorry,” you said, turning back to him, “I’m trying to be cautious. I’m afraid you might insult me if I so much as lay a finger on your comforter.”

Jungwon, without you noticing, rolled his eyes. He sighed, “You can sit further back on my bed. I don’t bite.”

“I just don’t believe you, to be honest.” You remarked back at him.

Sighing again, albeit more frustratedly this time, Jungwon caught you by surprise by grabbing your wrist closest to him and slightly tugging you further back on his bed.

“I don’t care if you don’t believe me,” he said, “I need your help. I won’t bite so long as you’re helping me.”

You finally turned to face him, taking note of how much closer you two were sat now that he had pulled your wrist. You looked down at his hand still wrapped around your wrist. He quickly removed his hand.

Adjusting yourself, you turned to face Jungwon on his bed, watching him pull out a binder, a pencil, and a calculator. He opened the binder, searching for a familiar white packet: the same one that’d you’d turned in earlier that week.

You tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and leaned over slightly to look at the problem that he was caught on. Jungwon noticed how you were sat across from him, and thereby couldn’t properly read the problem. He scooted his body more to the left of you and moved his binder so you could read.

The problem that Jungwon had attempted last had lots and lots of erased pencil marks all over it; he had clearly been struggling with it. You remembered also struggling with the same problem, but not nearly as much as he did.

“So this is one of the ones you’re struggling with?” You questioned, looking at him.

“Yeah,” he rolled his eyes, “I feel like she made this a lot harder than it should’ve been.”

“I had a hard time with this one, too, if it makes you feel any better.” You reassured him. Motioning to his calculator, you continued, “Why don’t you walk me through the steps of what you’re doing? Then I can show you what I did.”

Roughly fifteen minutes later and there were still eraser marks decorating the paper, yet not nearly as much as there were before. Jungwon was still confused, but had successfully worked through half of the problem he was caught on.

Jungwon groaned for what seemed like the hundredth time when you caught another mistake of his, “This is so stupid.”

“Hey,” you laughed, “I’m just trying to help you.”

“You know I didn’t mean you.”

There it was again, another positive comment from Jungwon, and this one sent a special beat through your heart. You chalked it up to just being not used to this side of Jungwon, not anything more.

“It’s okay,” you reassured, “I told you that I also struggled with this one. It’s not you, it’s the problem.”

You weren’t sure what came over you, but with the sudden kindness from Jungwon, you felt the need to return the gesture.

“I know,” he groaned, “I know. I just want to finish this problem. I have like four more to do that are the exact same thing.”

Jungwon flopped back on his bed, covering his face with his hands. You slightly laughed at the boy; all that big, tough act just for him to crumble at a math problem.

“Why are you laughing?” Jungwon whined, not amused. He removed his hands from his face to look at you.

“I’m not,” you tried concealing your laughter, “I’m not. I swear.”

“You’re laughing at me,” he said, “I’m about to drop out of school and you’re laughing at me.”

“Don’t be dramatic,” you replied, “it’s just one math problem. Wanna take a break with me?”

“…Maybe.”

You got off of Jungwon’s bed and started, “Come on, get up.”

“Actually, changed my mind, I’d rather die here than take a break with you.”

Though his words seemed harsh, you could tell there were hints of joking in his tone. You smiled naturally at him, “Fine, be like that. I’ll just leave.”

“You don’t have a ride home, need I remind you.”

“But I have a phone,” you teased, pulling your phone out of your pocket, “and I have people I can call. Like Gyuvin or Minji.”

Jungwon sat up finally, tilting his head at you, “Who are they?”

You didn’t even realize that you’d mentioned your childhood friends with Jungwon; you had been so oddly comfortable in the moment that you’d just let their names leave your mouth.

“Oh, uh-” you started, looking down, “just, uh, friends from my old school.”

You braced yourself for him to make fun of your ‘poor’ friends as usual, but nothing came from his direction of the room. You looked back up at him to find him with the same expression he’d had while asking you about them.

“What did you want to take a break for?” He inquired.

“Oh, I didn’t need it,” you said, “I thought you might’ve needed it.”

“Oh.”

A blanket of silence temporarily fell over the room until Jungwon broke the quiet atmosphere, “Didn’t know you had it in you to be so caring.”

“Maybe you’d know if you didn’t try to get under my skin all the time,” you remarked, with hints of teasing, “I’m actually quite the caring person, you’d be surprised.”

“I’m not.”

You had no time to process what he’d said before he spoke again:

“Let’s get back to work. I need to focus so you don’t stay here any longer than you have to.”

And just like that, Jungwon was back to his normal self.

x. I ALMOST SAID “I LOVE YOU”

The next following weeks that were leading up to the dance passed quicker in a blur than you’d like to admit they had; it seemed like just yesterday you had started fake-dating Jungwon, but in actuality it was coming up on around a month and a half.

In the time that you two had been “dating”, you’d become familiar with the soccer team, had gone to his house on multiple occasions, and even met his mother once.

Another uncertain familiarity had also made itself known: you were beginning to get used to being with Jungwon.

There had been many different occasions in which you’d felt yourself especially having let your walls down to the boy, and as more weeks passed of being “together”, the moments became much more frequent.

In particular, the last week had been particularly eventful for you.

The first strange event had occurred on Tuesday evening, when Jungwon, Wonyoung, Taesan, and you had all gone to the mall after school. Wonyoung was in need of some sort of new fur jacket for a family company event, or so she said. You had tagged along to help her find something suitable to wear, and she had told you that it was of the utmost importance that you were with her.

Taesan had joined because he wanted to pay for Wonyoung’s coat, being the caring boyfriend that he was. Taesan had also extended to invite to Jungwon to create the illusion of a double date.

While Wonyoung was in the fitting room of an expensive French store with a name you couldn’t even try to pronounce, Taesan had told you that he would hold onto the current items you had in hand and told you to try find some more different ones on the other side of the store. You happily obliged, loving the feeling of window shopping in a place you could never afford.

To your surprise, Jungwon had joined you without you asking or Taesan offering the idea to him.

The two of you quickly found yourselves in the coat designated area of the store, and you told Jungwon that you two should divide and conquer.

He listened to you, and set off in the opposite direction of where you were.

The first coat that caught your eye was cream colored, with what felt like a velvet inside and a chiffon outside. The sleeves and collar were decorated with what you could only guess was arctic fox fur. You loved Wonyoung, but you had a hard time getting behind her family’s necessity of wearing animal fur. It sent a shiver down your spine.

Looking at the price tag, it read $1,205. Your jaw slightly dropped, forgetting how truly expensive it was in there. You grabbed the jacket nonetheless, and started to make your way to try and find Jungwon.

Out of the corner of your eye, a glint of diamond found you.

You knew that you should have been getting back to Wonyoung.

But one look wouldn’t hurt, right?

You stalked your way up to the glass display slowly and spotted the most gorgeous pairs of earrings you’d ever seen in your entire lifetime. Next to the diamond pair that’d initially caught your eye, there was a beautiful silver chained necklace with what appeared to be a green gemstone encased in the center. It had to be the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen.

The employee noticed your wonder and walked over to speak to you.

“Hello,” the middle aged woman started, “see anything that you like, sweetheart?”

“Oh, uh-” you were startled, “Sorry. I was just looking.”

“I understand. We have a wonderful selection of jewelry. Are you looking at anything in particular?”

You shook your head, “No, um, I can’t. I’m here with a friend. This is way out of my price range.”

“I see, dear,” she said, pulling her glasses down from her head and placing them on her nose, “but that’s not what I was asking. Which one caught your eye?”

“Oh,” you laughed awkwardly, “I liked the diamond earrings a lot. The necklace with the small green gemstone is what kept me staring, though.”

“That’s a very popular one, the green gemstone. It’s a Colombian emerald.”

“It’s absolutely beautiful. If I had a job like this, I’d just spend all day looking at all the jewelry.”

The lady nodded, “As do I now.”

Suddenly, Jungwon appeared behind you, slightly startling you. You whipped around to see what seemed to be a concerned look.

“Hi,” you said, “I found something for Wonyoung.”

“I can see that,” he responded, looking down at the coat, then back at you, “but I was hoping more for you to find me. Taesan messaged me, asking where we were, because Wonyoung is still ‘hopeless’.”

“Oh,” you stuttered, “I got distracted. Thank you,” you turned to the woman as you started walking away, “and sorry about that,” you looked at Jungwon, “I got really distracted.”

“Yeah,” he slightly laughed, “I could have told you that. You should’ve answered your phone, I was worried.”

He was worried?

“You texted me?” You asked him.

Jungwon was worried?

“And called.”

Jungwon said he was worried.. about you. Weird.

You tried to ignore the slight skip in your heartbeat as you walked with him back to the fitting rooms.

xi. TO SIP IT SLOWLY

The next strange occurrence was the following Thursday night.

As a celebratory event, Jungwon’s soccer team decided to have a party in honor of their hard work (and just to party).

It was no surprise that a group of boys like Jungwon’s soccer team would host an obnoxious party. It reminded you of the ones that came out of movies; there was plenty of underaged drinking, it was too loud, and shitty music was blasting from a speaker that was a room over.

The party was in full swing by the time that you had arrived, which was about an hour after it was said to have started. The reason for your tardiness could have been chalked up to one person only: Gyuvin. As an apology for him causing you to be late, he offered to drive you to the location where the party was being held.

You had tried texting Jungwon multiple times on your way to the party, but, to no avail, he didn’t answer. This alone nearly caused you to forget about even showing up.

You sent him one last text — “just arrived. Wya?” — before leaving Gyuvin’s car and walking up the lawn of the house. While you went to the door (alone), you repeatedly checked your phone to see if Jungwon had messaged you back:

No.

The front door was unlocked when you reached it, and the foyer was empty. From a couple rooms away, you could hear music being blasted from a speaker. Hoping for the best, you decided to follow your gut and head that way.

The music was coming from the basement, which was down a hall then through a door that led to a flight of stairs. As you approached closer and closer to the basement door, you braced yourself for the potential of going deaf.

With still no text back from Jungwon, you opened the door and began walking down the stairs towards the main event of the party.

The first girl to acknowledge your presence was a girl named Noh Yunah, who was best friends with the girl who hosted the party: Park Minju. Minju was in a long term relationship with Anton Lee, the head captain of the team.

“Hey,” Yunah started, “you’re Y/N, right?”

“Yeah,” you made your way to stand next to her. Yelling over the music, you continued, “I am. You’re Noh Yunah?”

“I am!” Yunah smiled at you. “Where’s Jungwon?”

You slightly flushed at the sound of his name. You forgot that everyone here was in relation to the soccer team somehow, so of course they’d only know you as Jungwon’s girlfriend.

“Beats me,” you laughed, “I texted him earlier but he didn’t respond.”

“Weird,” Yunah responded, “I’m pretty sure that he was talking about you earlier. I just assumed that you two would have shown up together.”

“Yeah,” you said. Looking past Yunah, you couldn’t see anyone that resembled Jungwon. Sighing, you continued, “I had plans beforehand though. They unfortunately made me late.”

“Girl, I understand,” she laughed, “I hate these stupid parties most of the time. If I had other plans, I’d rather be there. Unfortunately, everyone that I’m friends with is here. I’m just glad there’s another girl.”

Suddenly, Park Minju made herself known from beside Yunah. She smiled, “I’m so relieved that you came, Y/N. Jungwon never stops talking about you at lunch. I needed to meet you finally so he would shut up.”

You laughed awkwardly, not sure if she was being nice or if it was a backhanded compliment. Either way, both girls were right; it was a complete relief to have other girls there.

But their behavior kind of puzzled you, too. Had the three of you been in a school setting, they probably wouldn’t have looked twice at you. If they did, it probably would’ve been to make a snarky comment.

Okay, maybe you were being too harsh on these girls. You’d never met them before.

But, in the same breath, you could never truly be too sure about Ivy Hills students.

Minju looked at your awkward stance, then laughed, “Do you want a drink?”

“Oh,” you started, “no. I don’t drink. Thank you though.”

“Suit yourself.” Minju raised a teasing eyebrow and smiled, then walking away to the big circle of people in the middle of the room — that same Jungwon-less circle you’d seen earlier.

Yunah looked at you, “Are you okay?”

You snapped out of your thoughts, “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Just, um… wondering where Jungwon is.”

“Hey,” she grabbed you by your wrist and pulled you closer so you could hear her better, “Sorry about Minju. I swear she likes you. She just doesn’t do well with new people.”

You nodded and let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding in, “That’s good to know. I think I might actually take her up on her drinking offer, though. Is there anything non-alcoholic?”

Yunah bit her lip, “I’m not sure. Everything’s in the kitchen. Want me to come check with you?”

“No,” you reassured, “I’ll be fine. Thank you, though.”

You left Yunah and ventured back up the stairs towards where the kitchen was, which was off the hall. There were a few people in there already, looking into coolers and what you could assume was Minju’s parents’ liquor cabinet.

You crouched by a cooler with no one nearby and fished through it, looking for something tame, like a soda. Your best bet was either a safe ginger ale or something new: a Jack Daniels wine cooler.

You didn’t know anyone at the party.. and you had school the following morning, that you couldn’t risk skipping. But maybe one wine cooler wouldn’t be that bad…

You stood up from your crouching position and walked to the kitchen counter where you placed your drink. Cracking it open, you took your first sip.

Suddenly, your phone buzzed in your pocket with a text from someone you had been waiting on:

Jungwon.

It was a simple text — “Hey” — but you felt your heart skip a beat. Perhaps the alcohol had entered your system quickly.

You quickly responded — “Where are you??” — to his text and placed your phone face down, leaning your back against the counter to face the open doorway.

As if on cue, a familiar lean figure walked through the doorway, almost making you choke on nothing. Unknowingly, your face broke into a little smile of relief.

Jungwon nodded to whoever the other people were in the room (who were still scavenging for drinks) before walking over to you.

“Where have you been?” You questioned teasingly once he made his way over to you.

“Oh, around, y’know.”

You rolled your eyes at him.

“I was out on the back porch with some of my teammates, why?” He looked at you, “You missed me?”

“You wish,” you laughed, “but no. I don’t know anyone here. I kind of need you here in order for it to make any remote sense of me being here.”

“Fair enough,” he shrugged. Jungwon glanced at your drink, then furrowed his eyebrows, “You been drinking?”

“It’s my first and probably last. We have school tomorrow, so even though I wanna fit in, I wanna keep my scholarship more than that.”

Jungwon chuckled at your words, “Smart girl, I guess. Wanna go downstairs?”

“We can, yeah,” you said.

Jungwon pushed himself off of the counter and led you back downstairs to the basement, but this time to the large crowd. They were all still sat in a circle, but the music was softer this time.

A couple of (assumed) teammates called out Jungwon’s name as he walked to find a spot in the circle, leading you with him. The two of you found a spot on one of the couches at the end. The spot had enough space for one person, but you and Jungwon squished to both be able to sit. He offered for you to sit on his lap, but you declined. The alcohol was making your face red enough.

You sat between Jungwon and one of his friends, Junhyuk, who everyone called “Win” for some reason. Assuming he played for a school team and was the star player, that would make sense. But you still thought it was weird nonetheless.

The conversation was still flying at a million miles per hour once you’d sat down, and you didn’t expect to really understand anything. Your main goal was to just sit there nicely and then go home once Jungwon left.

The last thing you’d expected to happen was Jungwon to slowly slither his right arm around your waist and place his hand on your hip nonchalantly. Your eyes widened at the occurrence, but Jungwon seemed unfazed.

Junhyuk was very obviously drinking and had been for some time, so when he leaned over jokingly and asked how “serious” you and Jungwon were, you weren’t exactly shocked that he’d made a comment about you two, especially given that your “relationship” was the most recently established.

A couple other people had overheard Junhyuk’s comment and laughed, causing Jungwon to raise an eyebrow at them.

“We’re very serious, Junhyuk, thank you for asking.” Jungwon commented with hints of snark in his voice, “And, also, thank you for hitting on my girlfriend! Just reminded me that I have the most beautiful woman this school has ever seen!”

“If she’s so pretty,” Junhyuk laughed, “why don’t you share? Especially if you know how much other people want her.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, there was no way he just said that. Another drunkard called from across the circle, “Jungwon, I’ll give you $40 if you trade places with me for the night.”

Jungwon’s pride turned into disgust within milliseconds, “My girlfriend is not an object. I will never let her around gross low-lives like you both if you ever say any bullshit like that again.”

Jungwon tightened his grasp around your waist. He then pulled you to be sitting on his lap, so that you wouldn’t have to be sitting next to Junhyuk anymore.

He whispered in your ear, “Sorry for making you come here.”

However, the boys’ drunk comments were deafened in comparison to the way Jungwon had your heart beating.

You were so fucked.

xii. BUT I DONT GET BORED

The final occurrence actually happened the following day during your math class.

Many of the people that you were mingling with the previous night decided not to go to school the following day — which would be today — and unluckily for you, you didn’t have that option, so you sat quietly in your Calculus class like normal.

Jungwon, to your surprise, had decided not to skip school like most of his friends and teammates, so he was sat quietly in your Calculus class, too.

Around two weeks prior, your teacher had decided to change up the seating chart of the classroom, sending Jungwon nearly all the way across the room from you.

You were almost 100% sure that it was because your teacher had seen the two of you passing notes during lectures, but because she never mentioned anything to the either of you, you couldn’t be sure.

You took a peek at where Jungwon was situated on the other side of the room just for you to notice him already looking at you.

You gave him a little smile, but then quickly turned to look at your teacher instead.

The AP tests for the majority of your classes had already happened, but your final AP exam was on the following Monday, which meant your teacher was doubling down on the review work and studying for you and your classmates.

Your teacher had randomly assigned everyone into either A team or B team, and today’s review session was to be a team vs. team test. You were hoping that by some miracle, Jungwon would get sorted into the same team as you; the two smartest people in the class — and in your whole grade, for that measure — being on the same team meant a guaranteed win for that team.

But, unluckily for you, he got assigned to B team, and you were stuck in A team. Once the sorting was complete, Jungwon caught your eye from across the room and mouthed a quick “sorry” while frowning.

You gave him a small smile that said “it’s okay” before turning to your teammates.

The desks had been pushed all together but separated in the middle (to distinguish between the two teams’ spaces) to create more space for everyone to “work together”.

You knew damn well in your mind that “working together” for your team most likely meant that they would make you (and maybe one other smart person if you were lucky) do all the equations and then just take credit for your work.

Your hunch was proven correct when you were onto your fourth problem in the process with the teams at 1-2. Your team was winning, but you were beginning to stress. If B team finished the equation first, the teams would be tied up.

Even though the exercise was supposed to be “fun”, it seemed to be fun for everyone except for you. The feeling of roughly 6 or 7 classmates breathing down your neck in wait of you finishing a problem only made you want a cry.

Moments later, a member from B team stood up and ran to the teacher to show her the answer and the work done. While all your classmates were watching in anticipation to see if she got the answer or not, you continued to work on the problem. You couldn’t join them in watching, because on the off chance that she made a mistake in her work, you needed to be prepared to swoop in with correctly done work at any moment.

Alas, to your dismay, your teacher chimed the bell that signified a correct answer.

One of your teammates gave you a dirty look.

Trying your best to ignore them, you focused onto the whiteboard and waited for your teacher to write down the final problem of the competition.

It didn’t take long for you to be reimmersed into the world of Calculus and try your hardest to finish the problem first. It wasn’t easy to focus when your teammates were breathing down your neck, though.

Roughly fifteen minutes later, you had nearly completed the problem when your opponent, Leehan, quickly ran up to your teacher to hand her the answer sheet with his work.

While she was grading the work, your teammate, Haruto, was urging you to finish while cursing under his breath at you, but not quietly enough for you to not be able to hear.

The bell chimed, signifying your team lost.

A cheer erupted from the other side of the classroom while Haruto snatched the paper from you and crumbled it up. He rolled his eyes, “Nice work, trailer trash. You’re more stupid than I thought.”

From the corner of your eye, you noticed Jungwon’s neck snap in Haruto’s direction.

While his team was cheering, Jungwon decided that instead of joining in, he would make sure he didn’t just hear what he thought he did from Haruto.

“What did you just call her, Watanabe?”

At this point, not only did you and Haruto notice Jungwon, but the majority of your teammates did, too. While some opted to pretend they didn’t see anything, some of the other ones turned their full attention to the interaction.

“Why do you give a fuck, Yang? You’re not on this team, so you shouldn’t even care that she made us lose. You won.”

“Maybe I did, but if you wanted to win, you should’ve helped her, instead of standing there like the bum that you are,” Jungwon scoffed, “because it’s no secret, Haruto, that you’re a lazy loser who rides off other people’s success to create your own.”

Haruto’s face morphed into an unrecognizable expression.

Jungwon continued, “In case you didn’t notice, your ‘personal math problem-solver’ here was doing the work with you breathing your hot breath down her neck.”

Catching more people’s attention now, he raised his voice a bit, “None of you did anything and you’re complaining that you lost. Y/N is lucky that exams are solo activities because she definitely won’t need any of you to rely on for answers. I’m glad that at least one person in this class is smart-”

Your teacher cut him off, “Yang Jungwon, that’s enough. Please go take a seat.”

Once Jungwon sat down, you couldn’t help yourself from sneaking a look at Haruto’s face, which hasn’t even changed a bit since Jungwon insulted him.

You laughed to yourself, thinking about Jungwon. Maybe losing wasn’t so bad after all if that was the result.

xiii. NEVER KNEW I COULD FEEL THIS MUCH

The sudden comfort that you had found in the man you once despised terrified you.

It terrified you so much to the point of you declining Wonyoung to a hang-out twice this weekend, for fear of Jungwon being there.

You were sure that by the third time, Wonyoung could tell what was up. So, it didn’t entirely surprise you when she showed up at your family’s apartment door that same night she texted you.

“You have a bit of explaining to do,” she started once you opened the door to her.

“Hello to you too.”

Wonyoung stepped past you to walk toward your room, you trailing behind her by a few paces. You watched as she sat herself right on your bed and sent you a look that said ‘sit here’.

Once you sat, she immediately started, “Why have you been avoiding hanging out with me?”

“I haven’t,” you lied through your teeth, “I’ve just been… busy.”

She furrowed her brows at you, “Busy with what? Your boyfriend?”

You tensed subconsciously at the word, but responded, “No… just school, I guess. Even though AP tests are over, I still have some schoolwork.”

Wonyoung squinted, “Like what?”

“Just… papers and stuff.”

“You’re a bad liar,” she complained, “but whatever. If you don’t want to tell me, that’s okay. I won’t prod.”

You nodded thankfully at her, looking away, “If it makes you feel any better, I haven’t seen any other friends.”

She laughed, rolling her eyes and standing up, “No, Y/N, that doesn’t make me feel any better. That makes me feel depressed on your behalf.”

You sent her an annoyed look.

“Anyway, since I’m already here, we should go do something. I miss my best friend.”

You smiled a little at her and also stood up.

As if on cue, you received a text from Jungwon:

Wanna go do something fun tonight?

xiv. LOST TRACK OF TIME AND SPACE

That Saturday after, you were once again with Minji and Gyuvin in your family’s apartment. This time, you weren’t being dramatic or even complaining about Jungwon. Instead, Minji decided to bring up the man herself.

“Y/N, I saw on your story last night that you went to a party.”

“Yeah,” you started, “I did, so what?”

“Since when are you a party person?” Gyuvin butted in, antagonizing you.

“I’m not, obviously,” you sighed, “I hid in the bathroom for most of it anyways. It was loud and obnoxious, and I only went because Jungwon asked me to go as his date.”

“Hm,” Minji hummed, “seems like he’s pretty serious about you, given that he asked you to go as his date to a party.”

“What’s even funnier is you went!” Gyuvin laughed from his spot on your bed.

“What’s so funny about that?” You interrogated, snapping your neck to look at him.

“Nothing, nothing.”

You shook your head at him, rolling your eyes slightly. Minji spoke next, “It is a bit funny. Y/N L/N, the well-known party-goer.”

“Look, I only went because he asked, okay? You guys both know damn well that I wouldn’t have gone otherwise.” You scoffed, surprised at their audacity.

Minji laughed, “And since when are you one to listen to what Yang Jungwon asks of you? The Y/N that I know wouldn’t have said yes in a million years.”

“It was important to him, okay,” You replied, “and he was insisting that I go. For public image reasons.”

“And now you care about what’s important to him,” Gyuvin piped up, “the plot thickens!”

You sighed, “It’s really not as big of a deal as you guys are making it out to be.”

“Listen, Y/N,” Gyuvin continued, “never did I ever think that you would ever go to a party, let alone with someone you claim to ‘hate’. I think you’re starting to like him.”

Minji laughed and you widened your eyes as you felt your face slightly flush at the thought. Was it that obvious?

“Oh my god, Gyuvin is totally right! Y/N, you liiiiike Yang Jungwon!” Minji sang to you.

“I do not,” you felt yourself retort like an elementary-aged school girl, “I do not! I swear it’s nothing. We’re just fake dating and that’s it.”

Minji kept laughing, “Sureeeee, Y/N. We both believe you!” She continued taunting you, high-fiving Gyuvin.

“You guys are so sick for this…” you grumbled, trying to push away your feelings for Jungwon further down.

“You’re just mad we’re never wrong,” Gyuvin said, “oh, and, by the way, you only have a week until you get your money.”

You felt your eyes slightly widen and your heart skip a beat or two.

Had time really flown by that quickly?

xv. HARDER TO HIDE THAN I THOUGHT

Two days had passed and you were scheduled to attend a double date with your “boyfriend”, Wonyoung, and Taesan. It was, pretty obviously, Wonyoung’s idea. But, because you didn’t want Jungwon to assume you suddenly hated him, you agreed to go.

Around an hour before the date, Jungwon suddenly texted you — “Hey, I’m omw to get you a bit early. I wanna talk before we see them” — and you felt your soul temporarily leave your body.

You and Jungwon hadn’t talked very often in the past week, because you had been avoiding him like the plague, trying to deny and drown out your feelings towards him.

Jungwon didn’t live too far from you, but it was far enough that you had at least fifteen minutes to freak out about his text message.

What could he possibly want? Was he going to confront you about avoiding him? What would you say, if that was the case?

You ran to the bathroom to touch up your outfit, makeup, and hair quickly, not wanting to present yourself badly in front of him. As in denial as you were, a small part of you knew that you did like the boy, and wanted to look pretty for him.

You were wearing a fairly plain outfit:

A white lace cami under a red short sleeve shirt, some secondhand baggy jeans, and some old clogs from your mother. You sported the look with an old (most likely faux) brown leather jacket from your father.

As for your hair, it was loosely braided into two braids and tied with a ribbon. You pulled some hair out to give it a more “effortless” look, but you were slightly afraid it came off as you trying too hard.

Your makeup was minimal, but this left you worried you did too little. You added slight highlights to the inner corners of your eyes to make them pop.

Arriving 10 minutes earlier than you anticipated, you heard a knock at the door, knowing immediately who it was. You looked over yourself one last time before leaving the bathroom.

As soon as you opened the door, Jungwon’s once grim face lit up at the sight of you, “You look nice.”

“Thanks, I like to think so too, sometimes.”

He scanned your whole body and face before slightly smiling. He cleared his throat before asking, “Ready to go?”

You nodded, shutting the apartment door behind you, not bothering to lock it, as both of your parents were home at the hour. You laughed slightly, “Where are you taking me?”

Jungwon, leading the way down the steps towards the bottom landing of the apartment building, turned back for a split second to say, “It’s a surprise.”

Roughly another fifteen minutes later, Jungwon parked his car. He unbuckled his seatbelt and said, “We’re here.”

You followed suit and once out of the car you looked around, “Where are we?”

“East Eden Park.”

Jungwon smiled at you as he started walking up a hill, beckoning for you to follow.

“Okay, why are we here?” You asked, your tone slightly laced with panic as you walked behind.

Jungwon looked over his shoulder at you, “I’ll explain when we get up to the top.”

Suddenly, you had the genius idea to beat him to the top. Smirking, you said, “Race you.”

Before Jungwon even had a second to register what you said, you took off up the hill and managed to get many paces ahead of him before he started running too.

To your surprise, you ended up beating him up the hill, to which you cheered in victory, “I win! I win! You suck!”

Jungwon laughed as he finally reached the top of the hill, “Okay, bragger.”

You settled down your laughing and cheering to take in the view around you, widening your eyes at the sight. It took your breath away momentarily, “Wow, this place is amazing. You can see the whole downtown area from here.”

“Isn’t it?” Jungwon asked, as he reached to be next to you.

The sun had just started to set over the horizon of the city, making the perfect spot to watch the sunset.

“This is oddly romantic,” you laughed, awkwardly, “thanks for taking me here.”

“You’re welcome. Will you take a seat on the grass so we can talk?”

You immediately sat down in your spot, “You don’t have to ask me that twice.”

Jungwon also sat next to you, so close that your hands almost touched. If not for the rules that you two had made, you would’ve reached and grabbed his hand. But deep down, you knew you’d strangle yourself if you ever broke the unspoken fifth rule:

Don’t catch feelings.

Sighing to yourself, you trained your sights on a familiar building. You nudged Jungwon, “Hey, did you know that’s where my dad works?”

“Wait, which one? Your pointing skills suck.”

“Right there, second to the right on the bottom. Big brown building.”

Jungwon squinted his eyes, still not seeing what you were talking about.

“Dude, the one at the very bottom. Not the gray one.”

Jungwon sighed, “I give up. I can’t see it.”

“Really?” You said, exasperated, “You can’t see the brown building that says ‘Armstrong & Dennis’ above it?”

“Ohhh, I know that one. My dad’s a shareholder in that company.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, “Great. Thanks for reminding me of our societal class difference.”

Jungwon chuckled, nudging you, “You know that’s not what I meant when I said that.”

“Yeah, whatever, rich boy,” you nudged him back, “So, why’d you bring me here?”

“Oh,” he said, reminded of the reason, “I wanted to talk, um, about next week.”

The words Minji and Gyuvin were teasing you with appeared back in your head:

Only one week.

You tensed slightly and laughed, “Oh, I forgot about that.”

He stayed silent.

“So… what did you want to exactly discuss?” You questioned, looking at him. His eyes were still trained on the sunset-stained skyline, not moving. You wondered what he was thinking about.

He broken his silence after a minute, “Just… logistics, I guess.”

“What logistics?” You asked, “I thought it was just that we would go to the dance together, and then ‘break-up’.”

“Well, yeah, but…” he trailed off, not even continuing his sentence.

“But?”

“Y’know what? Never mind. It doesn’t matter,” he sighed, finally looking at you, “because you’re right, we’ve already talked about it. Guess I’m just psyching myself out because I don’t know how Taesan and Wonyoung are going to react.”

“Understandable,” you said, “I mean, I do like hanging out with you though. Or, at least, when you’re nice to me. I’m sure we can stay friends after this whole fiasco is over.”

Jungwon took a long pause.

“Yeah… friends.”

You didn’t respond, instead opting to look at the way the sunset looked that evening, even taking out your phone to snap a photo of it.

You then got an idea, turning to Jungwon, “Wanna take a picture?”

He seemed genuinely surprised at your question, stuttering out a quick “sure” before posing next to you in your picture.

You flipped the camera to selfie mode and posed with a quick peace sign and slightly puckered lips. Jungwon copied your pose, but with a close-mouthed smile instead.

“Okay, wait, one more.” You insisted to him.

This time, you stuck your tongue out and widened your eyes, and he made a screaming face. You both laughed at the funny pictures before Jungwon got a call and picked it up swiftly.

“Yeah, we’re on our way.”

It was all he said before hanging up and standing up, “Hey, let’s go, or we’ll be late for dinner.”

“Okay, okay,” you said, pushing yourself off the ground and following Jungwon to his car.

The next ten minute drive was eerily silent. Not even comfortable silence, but instead a silence that felt like it was sitting on both of your chests— as if there was something that needed to be addressed, but you were both too afraid to acknowledge it.

You let out an unknowing breath of relief when you arrived at the restaurant where Wonyoung and Taesan were already waiting outside for the both of you.

As if on instinct, Jungwon grabbed your hand as you walked towards your friends at the door of the restaurant. You tried to pick up on their conversation, but it seemed like your mind was too foggy to even function that night, with nothing being able to even be clear.

However, there was one thing that night that couldn’t leave your mind:

Jungwon’s grip on your hand felt a little tighter than usual.

xvi. ARE YOU MINE?

One day before the dance, you were with Wonyoung in her family’s mansion and just hanging out as usual. Your conversations had been extremely honed in on the elephant in the room: the dance. Wonyoung tried on her expensive gown for you, and even asked you to help her style it. You two had practiced hairstyles, and even discussed when you would be coming over the following morning to get ready with her.

The dress you had bought was much less glamorous than hers, but even though she offered to let you borrow one of her “family event” dresses, you politely declined, insisting that you go with the dress you bought, because Jungwon liked the color.

Just as you were finishing up a hairstyle YouTube tutorial, you got a sudden call from Jungwon. You turned to Wonyoung, saying, “Hey, I’m gonna take this real quick.”

You walked out into her hallway and then into the guest bathroom to answer the phone.

As soon as you answered, he immediately started rambling, “Hey, Y/N, I know you’re with Wonyoung right now, but is there any way we can meet up late tonight? I have stuff I need to go over with you.”

Trying to understand him through his rambling, you just agreed, telling him to pick you up from Wonyoung’s at 10:30, which was in 15 minutes. You knew for a fact that Wonyoung wouldn’t care, because for one, she would be seeing you tomorrow morning anyways, and for two, you had planned on leaving at 10:30 anyways, but this time it would be Jungwon driving you, and not Wonyoung back home.

As soon as he heard your confirmation, Jungwon immediately hung up. You shook your head a bit, confused.

You walked back into Wonyoung’s room, letting her know that Jungwon would be coming to get you and drive you home. She nodded, still working on fixing her attempted hairstyle.

You went back to one of her mirrors and undid your hairstyle, not wanting to spoil your potential look for the following day, and also not wanting to look dressy from the face up, because you were wearing a baggy tee shirt, athletic shorts, and ankle socks, which would soon be joined by your sandals that were on the bottom floor.

Jungwon sent you a text — “I’m here” — which made you say goodbye to Wonyoung and tell her that you’ll see her tomorrow at 11am. She only waved “bye” as you left, still preoccupied with her hair.

As soon as you slipped out of the front door of the Jang’s, you were immediately met with Jungwon’s car. He rolled down the passenger window and said, “Get in.”

You yawned a bit as you opened the door, not even questioning where he was taking you.

Roughly five minutes went by and you both arrived at your location, which, to your surprise, was the same park that he took you to only a couple days ago.

“‘Welcome to Eden’…” you read the sign as you unloaded yourself from the car.

Jungwon said nothing as he trekked up the hill, leaving you to catch up once again. This time, however, you didn’t race him.

Once at the top of the hill, Jungwon immediately sat down, inviting you to join him. You complied in milliseconds.

A silence again filled the area between you two before you broke it:

“It’s so picture-esque here.”

Jungwon nodded next to you, the lights from the downtown illuminating his expression, which was unreadable.

“So…” you started, “why’d you bring me back here?”

Jungwon took a deep breath, “I just like it here.”

“Wow,” you teased, poking him, “trying to bring me to his favorite places before he breaks my heart. Such a tragic love story.”

You laughed at your own joke, but didn’t fail to notice how Jungwon remained expressionless.

He sighed, “Yeah…”

Another minute of silence befell the two of you, this time you being too afraid to break it.

Out of nowhere, Jungwon started, “Do you think we should keep doing this?”

Caught off guard, you asked “What?”

“Like, fake dating,” he said, “for Wonyoung and Taesan, of course. I feel like it’ll be suspicious if we break up the day after the dance.”

You furrowed your brow, not against the idea, but confused nonetheless, “Uh… sure. But how much longer?”

Jungwon pondered for a moment before coming to a conclusion, “Until it feels right.”

Not daring to turn your head to him, you stared into the abyss with the most confused look of your life, not even sure what to respond with. Instead you fell onto your back, opting to look at the stars above instead of the city ahead.

Shortly after, Jungwon followed suit.

He broke the silence first again, “Which constellation is your favorite?”

“Oh, I have no clue,” you said, genuinely thinking about it, “I don’t think I’ve put much time into thinking about it, honestly. Maybe the Southern Cross? It’s pretty easy to spot.”

Jungwon hummed next to you. Then he grabbed your hand and made you make a pointer finger, guiding it to where he wanted you to point, “Mine is Bootes. Can you see it? It’s right…” he moved your hand slightly, “…there.”

“Yeah… yeah, I think so.” You replied, squinting.

“Do you see the big star at the bottom? Its name is Arcturus.” He let go of your hand.

“I didn’t know you knew so much about astronomy,” you laughed, “it’s endearing.”

Jungwon chuckled, “My maternal grandpa worked for NASA. As crazy as it sounds, I was born from generational wealth.”

You smacked him teasingly, “You don’t say!”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he said, “crazy that the spoiled rich kid was born this way. And both his parents, too.”

You nodded, “Crazy. Would’ve never guessed. But, question, why do you like Bootes?”

“Oh, mainly because of Arcturus,” he replied, “because I can almost guarantee that there’s some sort of other life out there.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, “do you think they’re smarter than us?”

“Maybe.”

“Cooler?”

“Definitely not.”

“Do you think there’s a parallel version of you and I that are doing the exact same thing right now?”

Jungwon paused, “I hope.”

You smiled, “Who do you think wins in a fight, you or alien you?”

“Oh,” he laughed, “I’d definitely win. No question about it.”

“How can you be so sure? What if their species is naturally taller and stronger?”

“I’m smarter.”

“Sure…” you said, “so does that mean alien me would beat human you? Or would you finally one-up me for once?”

Jungwon laughed loudly at your comment, “Wow… you think you’re so funny.”

You peeked at him and smiled to yourself before looking back at the stars and sighing, “I think I’m starting to like Bootes, too.”

Once back in Jungwon’s car, the silence was more comfortable than previous times. This time, it’s as if you’ve let your heart completely out of its cage of fear without actually telling Jungwon how you feel. This time, you’re sure that somewhere along the lines, you started to fall for him. This time, you knew that he meant something to you.

Halfway through the drive, Jungwon started to talk about his intergalactic arch-nemesis again and how he was sure that alien Jungwon was not as cool as human Jungwon.

“You two are essentially the exact same, though, just from different planets.” You said as a counter argument.

“Let me ask you this,” Jungwon replied, “Do you think you’re better than your alien self?”

You thought for a second before answering, “No. I am her and she is me. I’m sure she’s great.”

Jungwon laughed at your reply, “Okay, that was a pretty nice response.”

“Thank you,” you said, “I like to think highly of my alien self, because if she’s anything like me, she probably doesn’t think the highest of herself.”

Jungwon’s face got a bit more serious as he pulled onto your street, “What do you mean?” He turned down the radio.

“Oh, I, uh,” you stumbled over your words, “I didn’t mean to turn this into a pity party or anything, just…”

He parked the car and only looked at you.

“I’m sorry,” you laughed awkwardly, “that got depressing quick.”

“No worries,” he reassured, grabbing your hand and surprising you, “why don’t you think the highest of yourself?”

“Jungwon,” you said, uncomfortable, “you’re not my therapist. No need to worry about me-”

“No,” he cut you off, “I want to know. I mean, if anything, you’re miles smarter than me.”

You laughed a bit, “Um, thanks. But intelligence isn’t everything.”

He nodded, “Go on.”

“It’s just,” you started, “nothing really. It just sucks being the absolute poorest person at your school. No matter how high I score, or how hard I work, no one sees that. They just see my class background.”

Jungwon studied your face, “I’m sorry.”

“Wha-” you sputtered, “Why are you apologizing? It’s not like you were the one who did it! Well…” you paused, “actually you did. But that was a while ago. I basically already forgot.”

Jungwon doesn’t break his stare, “I wish I could help.”

You felt your heart race faster in your chest as you locked eyes with him, “Really… it’s okay. I swear.”

Something about the way that he was looking at you had you frozen. Sure, Jungwon had made questionable comments in the past, but nothing as simple as this specific look. You weren’t sure what it was.

Your eyes flickered down to his hand, still holding yours. You felt your heart rate pick up as you realized the proximity you were in.

As if nothing happened, Jungwon slowly tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear and looked at you like you were the only person on earth.

You felt your mind start to go fuzzy as you thought about him.

In that moment, it felt like you two were the only people alive to feel anything. It felt like all the world’s people’s emotions had swirled around the two of you, catching you in a deadly storm, of which neither of you wanted to escape.

In that moment, you felt everything and nothing all at once.

In that moment, it was just Jungwon.

And in that moment, you took the risk to lean into him softly place your lips on his.

The months of secret yearning spilled into the car and into the kiss. Before you could even realize what happened, you pulled away.

You were terrified. You swallowed deeply and looked at Jungwon, who seemed equally as shocked. You then mumbled a quiet “goodbye” as you left his car and ran into your family’s apartment complex.

You didn’t look back to watch him drive away silently.

xvii. NEITHER OF US PLANNED IT

You knew you were screwed. You knew you were plainly, simply, just screwed.

There was no one you could talk about last night with. Wonyoung already thought you had been dating Jungwon for some time now, and Minji and Gyuvin knew you two weren’t actually together. If you told them what happened, you were almost 100% sure you would never hear the end of it.

You obviously wouldn’t talk to Jungwon about it, either. Why the fuck would you talk about the elephant in the room to the elephant in the room?

You’d been freaking out all morning and nothing was easing your mind. One way or another, you’d have to face Jungwon today. You were nearly sick to your stomach thinking about it.

You were already at Wonyoung’s, but you were silently freaking out in her guest bathroom while she was getting ready. You almost threw up while you thought about the night to unfold. Your hands were sweaty, stomach sick, and head hurting. You weren’t sure how you’d survive the evening.

You took a deep breath and walked back into Wonyoung’s room, her already finishing her makeup and hair, still dressed in her pajamas, as putting the dress on was the last step.

She turned her head to you with a concerned expression as you trudged through the door, not even trying to hide your emotions at this point.

“What’s wrong, drama queen?” She asked, looking over her shoulder at you.

You sighed dramatically into her mattress after flopping yourself loudly onto it.

“Okay…” she laughed, “Well if you want to talk about it, I’m here.”

“I just hate emotions.” You grumbled.

She laughed again, “Okay, me too. Wanna tell me why?”

You groaned, “No.”

Roughly an hour and half later, you two were both ready to be picked up by your dates. Before the dance, there were pictures to be taken, and a dinner to be eaten, and then you could finally go to the dance, which started at 7:30.

Taesan and Wonyoung chattered in the front seat while you and Jungwon remained dead silent, not even looking at each other.

The car ride stayed exactly like that during the twenty minute drive.

Once you all arrived at the park to take pictures, you lifted yourself out of the car and walked to wherever Taesan and Wonyoung were leading.

At the pavilion, you took the time to fix some strands of your hair and flatten any creases in your dress, which was blue, Jungwon’s favorite color.

Even though you were originally standing alone, Jungwon soon made his way towards you. He cleared his throat awkwardly, “You, uh… you dress well for the occasion.” You could tell that he was flustered, but you’d be lying if you didn’t admit that you were too. You were just glad he didn’t bring up the incident from the night prior.

You laughed shyly, “I mean, of course. I was planning on getting my heart broken tonight after all.”

“I mean, we did agreed to keep this act going,” he replied, “We can’t have me breaking your heart while you look so pretty.”

Your heart started racing like you’d just ran a marathon. Trying to stay calm, all you could muster back was “thanks”.

Some pictures and a dinner later, you and your group arrived at the location where the dance would be held, which was none other than the downtown’s Music Hall.

As you walked in with Wonyoung, you tried to take in everything that you could, from architectural designs to the art on the ceilings to the over-the-top decorations that Ivy Hills had created for the event.

It didn’t take long for her to grab your hand and pull you along to talk with some of her friends, one of them including Park Minju, who you’d first met around a month ago.

You surprisingly relaxed a lot during the dance, having expected the DJ to only play classy songs, but you were entirely shocked when Fire Burning by Sean Kingston blasted through the speakers.

Around half an hour later, you found yourself on a balcony from the top floor of the venue, needing some fresh air after sweating as much as you did. You didn’t expect to dance as much as you did, but nonetheless you still needed a break.

It was a lot colder outside than you’d anticipated it to be, somehow forgetting that the sun had already set. You didn’t really mind, though, as you were too lost in thought to even pay any attention to the weather.

Almost exactly a minute later, you heard an all-too-familiar voice from behind you. He slowly approached to stand next to you and asked, “Are you okay?”

You nodded, too lost in thought to really acknowledge him, “Yeah.”

“What’s up?”

“Just…” you finally looked at him, “just a lot going on right now.”

He chuckled a bit, “I get it.”

A comfortable silence fell over the two of you as he tried to mimic your body language.

From inside the venue, your ears perked up at the sound of the DJ announcing the first slow song of the night, to which you groaned.

“What?” Jungwon questioned.

“Slow songs are just soooo corny. Especially at dances. It’s always either ‘Perfect’ by Ed Sheeran or ‘A Thousand Years’ by Christina Perri or ‘I Can’t Help Falling in Love With You’ by Elvis.”

Jungwon shook his head in disbelief, “So you don’t like slow dancing?”

“It’s not that I don’t like slow dancing,” you replied, “the songs are just overplayed and corny.”

“I mean…” he started, “I completely disagree. I think it’s romantic. But, okay.”

“Of course you wouldn’t get it,” you retaliated, “you’ve never been to a public school dance. PDA is off the charts. It’s gross.”

“I’m sure of it,” he replied, “but PDA is off the charts here, too. You just don’t see it because these weirdos go hide in the unisex bathrooms and-”

“Ew,” you cut him off, “ew, okay. Stop there please.”

Jungwon laughed loudly, “Listen, this is how I can tell you only know the surface of private schools.”

“Yeah, and maybe I’d like to keep it that way. We’re graduating this month anyway, and I’ll never have to see anyone here again if I don’t want to.”

“Sounds like a dream,” he said, “where are you going for school?”

“I haven’t committed anywhere yet, is that bad?” You winced.

“No,” he assured, “definitely not. My parents wanted me to go to Yale but I ended up on Brown. Took me months to choose between Brown and UCLA.”

“Oh my god,” you laughed, “I got rejected from UCLA. I’m stuck between MIT and Brown. Yale accepted me, but they didn’t offer me enough. There’s no way in Hell that I’m paying twenty thousand a semester.”

“Yale didn’t even waitlist me,” Jungwon sighed, “my parents were so mad. Their next choice was Princeton or Brown, so I chose Brown to make them happy.”

“My parents just wanted me to go to the state school,” you said, “…good ‘ol Virginia Tech.”

“Not a bad school,” he answered, “but I understand your parents’ concerns. Moving out of state is hard. You’re their only child, too.”

“Yeah,” you shrugged, “I understood why. But I don’t think they understand how important education is to me… I don’t know.”

Jungwon smiled, “Well, if you go to Brown, just know you’ll have a friend there.”

You smiled back at him.

Noticing the song was over, you muttered, “Thank god.”

Just then, through the speakers, you heard the opening violin notes to one of your favorite childhood songs that your dad used to play for you on his CD player: ‘Come On Eileen’ by Dexy’s Midnight Runners.

You gasp in excitement, “I’d much rather dance to something like this.”

Jungwon laughed at your reaction, “Well, then can I have this dance?”

You tried to fight your smile, “Why yes, you can.”

Jungwon stuck out his hand to you, but instead of you grabbing it to slow dance, you linked his arm with yours and started making him do a strange folk dance with you, making him spin and dip you, and trying to convince him to let you dip him, but with no success.

Just as the song started, it ended. The DJ announced over the speakers that the king and queen of the ball would soon be announced.

Without saying a word, you followed Jungwon into the building and down the steps, towards where the crowd was forming.

To no one’s surprise, the queen was announced to be Wonyoung, and her king to be Taesan.

As they did their dance, you leaned towards Jungwon and whisper-shouted sarcastically, “Who would’ve seen this coming?”

He laughed at your comment and replied, “Right?”

A moment passes before he leans over again and asks, “Do you wanna go get something to drink with me? I need some water.”

You nodded and followed him back up the steps to the second floor where there were still people, but much less crowded than the bottom floor.

As he was walking, he looked over his shoulder at you and said, “I can finally hear myself think now.”

Once he got his water, you both retreated back to the initial balcony that he found you on earlier in the night. The silence was comforting, and you caught yourself trapped in your thoughts again.

Out of nowhere, Jungwon suddenly broke the silence:

“Did that kiss mean anything to you yesterday?”

Completely caught off guard, you replied, “Huh?”

Without missing a beat, he explained, “Like, when I dropped you off yesterday. Did that mean anything to you? I’m just confused ‘cause- I mean, I know it wasn’t for show. It was only the two of us in the car. I- I just want to know.”

You took a second to even process what he said to you. Sure, it was inevitable that he was eventually going to bring it up. But you didn’t think now was the moment, especially so soon.

Trying to find the right words, you responded, “Oh, um… I don’t know if this is a conversation we should have here and now… I mean… there’s people around and…”

Jungwon nodded stiffly.

“I…” you trailed off, “I think I’m going to go back downstairs.”

And just like that, you left Jungwon alone again.

xviii. ROLLER-COASTER KINDA RUSH

For the next few hours of the dance, you didn’t see Jungwon at all. In fact, he didn’t even ride with you, Taesan, and Wonyoung to Wonyoung’s afterparty. You were starting to worry that by you deflecting the conversation earlier, he took it as a rejection.

The next time you saw Jungwon was an hour into Wonyoung’s afterparty. You caught the slightest glimpse of him in the kitchen, but just as you’d seen him, he’d disappeared from your sight. You were beginning to believe you had started hallucinating him from how much he was driving you crazy.

However, once outside, you’d seen Jungwon’s car parked on the street across from Wonyoung’s mansion, and sighed in relief when you realized you weren’t actually losing your mind.

Near the end of the afterparty, Jungwon snuck up on you.

“Hey.”

You jumped, startled from the sudden appearance, “Hey. I haven’t seen you all night.”

His only response was a simple and short “yeah”. Before you both fell into an uncomfortable silence.

A couple of seconds later, Jungwon asked you, “Do you want a ride home?” He held up his keys.

You smiled at the gesture, knowing that otherwise, you’d have to find someone else to drive you home, and although Taesan drove you there, and he’d likely be staying the night, leaving you to fend for yourself.

“Sure.”

With the party already dying down, you made sure to say goodbye to Wonyoung and thank her for hosting. You gave her a small hug and watched as Jungwon dapped up Taesan.

The both of you walked to Jungwon’s car in silence down the driveway.

However, this time, you decided to bite the bullet:

“I think we should talk about what happened yesterday.”

You noticed Jungwon almost freeze in his spot for a second but he continued walking to his car.

All he could mutter out was another “yeah”.

Once you reached his car, he quickly put it in gear and started driving you home.

Jungwon didn’t say anything until he almost reached your apartment. He parked his car on the street, and got out to walk you to your door.

He sighed, yet started, “Listen, I know you’re getting paid from this. But we never needed to kiss to seal the deal…” he trailed off, “so I really don’t understand why that was a necessary part to the whole act and-”

“That wasn’t about the money.” You cut him off.

Jungwon slowly turned to look at you, confused, “What?”

“It-” you stumbled over your words, “it stopped being about the money a while ago.”

A small and barely audible “oh” escaped his lips, with an unreadable face.

“I-” you started, “I- I know that we’re supposed to sell this,” you motioned between the two of you, “thing for a long longer. I know that because we both agreed on it. But…” you trailed off, not sure what to say next.

You took a deep breath, “But what I say next might change the trajectory of this… friendship…” you shook your head, “…or whatever this is.”

Jungwon said nothing.

“But the truth is, I-” you sighed, defeated, “I kissed you because I wanted to kiss you. Not because of the stupid money, and not because of the validation I’d get from Wonyoung and Taesan.”

He stood still, motionless, still with an indecipherable expression.

Nearly to tears with frustration and stress, you continued, “I kissed you because… because I felt like it was right in the moment. And- and it’s okay if you don’t feel that way. And if that is the case, then I’m sorry for kissing you and making things weird between us.”

Sighing one last time, “And I know the unspoken rule of this whole thing was to not have any actual feelings for each other, but-”

“Y/N.” Jungwon cut you off.

Afraid that you went overboard, you muttered sheepishly, “…what?”

“Please,” he said, taking a step closer, “please, stop talking.”

You frowned, “Did I say too much?”

“No,” he laughed, “but if you never stop rambling, I won’t be able to tell you how I feel.”

“Um,” you said quietly, “sorry, what?”

You weren’t sure exactly what Jungwon meant by ‘telling you how he felt’ but you were nearly bracing yourself for the worst. You decided to keep quiet as to not disturb him.

“I want you to know something right off the bat,” he started, “okay?”

You nodded but still didn’t say anything.

“It was never about Wonyoung and Taesan for me,” he laughed, “Hell, I’m the reason that we were all forced to hang out, the four of us.”

He sighed, “Y/N, I’ve always admired you, but I never knew how to deal with it. Why? Because in all of my life, I have never had a girl distract me from school as badly as you did.”

Your eyes widened at the confession.

“The only reason that I’m ranked 2nd in math for our class is because you are 1st,” he continued, “And I used to really hate you for it, because who did this pretty girl think she was, coming into my school and usurping me of my top rank in the class?!”

You felt yourself flush at the compliment, but tried to stay as calm as possible.

Jungwon calmed down, “But… at a point, I realized that you never did it to spite me, and you were genuinely just that smart. Then, I got over myself.”

You nodded with furrowed eyebrows.

“But,” he sighed, “I knew I had already pushed your buttons so hard to the point that I really thought there would be no point of return…”

“…So, when you brought up the idea of fake dating me, I immediately said no, because I knew it wouldn’t end well for me,” Jungwon laughed bittersweetly, “But then you challenged me. And I love a challenge.”

You felt your heart flutter at his words, now noticing how closely he was standing to you. You opened your mouth to try and form a response, but the only thing that you said came out in a whisper:

“Wow… I don’t know what to say.”

He smiled brightly at you, grabbing your hand.

“I don’t think words can be used in this moment.”

As if he’d been doing it forever, Jungwon wrapped one arm around your waist and let the other cup your head. Slithering your arms around his back, you stood on your tippy toes.

This time, you knew you wouldn’t run away from his kiss.

a/n : aaaand it’s over meow meow meow sorry for the long wait but it seemed like life hasn’t been on my side for the past year. hope u guys enjoyed tho <3 this was a bit too happy ending for me and not nearly enough angst but whateva

[peavhyshy]

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ - AFRAID

ᯓᡣ𐭩 paring ─ ୨୧ ─ dark!boyfriend!rafe cameron ⋆ reader

ᯓᡣ𐭩 summary ─ ୨୧ ─ in which Rafe hatches a plan to ensure you stay by his side, by making you dependent on him.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 warnings ─ ୨୧ ─ explicit language noncon/dubcon, smut, rafe drugs reader, substance abuse, toxic relationship, emotional abuse, baby trapping/forced pregnancy, possessiveness, controlling behaviors, threats of violence, loss of virginity, corruption, breeding kink, dirty talk (like a lot), abandonment issues, manipulation, rough sex, hairpulling, fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, powerplay, choking, semi public sex, car sex, creampie (please dni if your sensitive to these topics your mental health should come first)

ᯓᡣ𐭩 wc ─ ୨୧ ─ 8,960

⋆˚✿˖° a/n ─ ୨୧ ─ is there a plot not really, it may seem long but 80% of this is smut. this is unrelated but i think his season 1 & 2 rafe hair were elite to me but I just hate buzz cuts on everyone so my opinion doesn't matter here. The ‘Lila’ is now edited I use it as a placeholder (because for some reason I hate putting y/n while writing) before I replace it with y/n but of course my dumbass forgot to do that when I published this.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔.:･Afraid･:.ೃ࿔.⋆❀°

(༝༚༝༚ lana del rey)

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── Outer Banks Masterlist ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── Navigation ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Rafe sits across from you at your usual table in the country club, his jaw clenching rhythmically as he watches you flip through the college applications. His fingers drum against the polished wooden table, creating a nervous pattern that matches his increasing anxiety. The sight of all those prestigious university names makes his stomach turn - Harvard, Yale, Princeton - each one threatening to take you further away from Outer Banks, from him. He barely touches his plate of steak, too preoccupied with the growing unease in his chest.

"Why the fuck are you even looking at schools that far?" He snaps suddenly, his voice carrying a sharp edge as he reaches across to snatch one of your fries, popping it into his mouth with more force than necessary. His blue eyes darken with barely contained irritation, especially when he catches Topper's wave from across the room. He returns it with a curt nod, his attention immediately returning to you. "You know there's perfectly good schools right here in North Carolina. UNC's got a decent program."

You glance up from your binder, your eyes meeting Rafe's intense blue ones. You set down your fork carefully on your half-eaten Caesar salad, a soft sigh escaping your lips. The sunlight streaming through the country club's windows catches on your hair, creating a halo effect around your skin. "Baby, we've talked about this," you say gently, "These schools have amazing programs for what I want to study. And it's not like I'm making any decisions yet - I'm just looking at options."

The afternoon sun streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows catches on his rings as he reaches up to run a hand through his disheveled hair, a telltale sign of his growing agitation. The country club bustles around them with the usual crowd of Kooks - women in tennis whites gossiping over martinis, men in polo shirts discussing their latest yacht purchases. But Rafe's focus remains fixed on those damned college applications, his jaw working overtime as he grinds his teeth.

The cocaine from earlier isn't helping his paranoia, making his thoughts race faster than he can process them. The idea of you leaving, of losing control over this one good thing in his life, sends a fresh wave of anxiety through his system. His free hand unconsciously reaches up to rub at his chest, a nervous tick he's developed. The country club suddenly feels too small, too confined, and he can feel his breathing getting slightly erratic. "Just... just put those away for now," he demands, trying to maintain his composure despite the rising panic in his chest. "We're supposed to be having lunch, not planning your fucking escape route."

You reach across the table with your free hand, your fingers brushing against his chest where he's rubbing anxiously. The familiar scent of his cologne mixed with something sharper - probably remnants of whatever he'd been doing before lunch - fills your nostrils as you lean closer. "Rafe, you're spiraling again," you observe quietly, mindful of the other diners around them. Your eyes flick briefly to Topper and his mother as they pass, offering a polite smile before returning your attention to your increasingly agitated boyfriend. "And you know that's not fair. I'm not trying to escape anything, especially not you."

"Besides," he continues, his tone taking on that manipulative edge he's so good at, "You really want to leave all this behind? The island, the parties, me?" He leans forward, lowering his voice to that dangerous whisper he uses when he's trying to get his way. "You know I can't follow you out there. I've got responsibilities here, the family business..." His hand shoots out to grab your wrist, not painfully, but firmly enough to make his point. "And what about us? You're going to throw away what we have for some fancy degree you could get right here?"

The weight of his intense stare makes you shift in your seat, your sundress rustling against the plush cushions. You can see the telltale signs of his growing panic - the clenched jaw, the rapid breathing, the way his fingers keep twitching against the table. Part of you wants to close the binder, to give in like you usually do when he gets like this. But another part, the part that's been dreaming about life beyond the island since you were little, keeps your hand steady on the applications. "What about a compromise?" you suggest, your voice taking on that soothing tone you learned to use when he's on edge. "What if I apply to both - some schools here in North Carolina and some out of state? That way we have options to discuss later?"

Your free hand moves from his chest to his face, your thumb gently stroking along his clenched jaw. You can feel the tension there, the way he's grinding his teeth. The chatter of the country club fades into background noise as you focus solely on him, knowing how quickly his mood can shift when he feels cornered. "And hey," you add, your voice dropping to a whisper as you lean even closer, your lips quirking into a small smile, "No matter where I end up going, you know you're the only one I want, right? These other Kook boys could never compare to my Rafe Cameron."

The familiar weight of the promise ring he gave you three months ago sits heavy on your finger, catching the light as you move. You learned over your time together that sometimes Rafe needs this - needs to be reminded that he's your choice, that you're his. Even if the possessiveness sometimes scares you, even if his mood swings leave you walking on eggshells, you can't deny the way your heart still races when he looks at you like he is now - like you're something precious he's terrified of losing. "Can we at least look through them together? You might see something you like too."

Rafe lets go of your wrist his hand shooting out to slam your binder shut with enough force to make nearby diners jump. "Don't fucking patronize me," he growls, his voice low and threatening despite their public setting. The gentle stroke of your thumb against his jaw only heightens his agitation, like a match to gasoline. "You think I don't see what this is?" He leans forward, invading your space across the table, his blue eyes wild with a mixture of possessiveness and barely contained rage. "First it's just 'looking at options,' then suddenly you're gone, probably fucking some ivy league asshole who doesn't know you like I do." His breathing becomes more erratic, the hand on his chest pressing harder as anxiety mingles with his growing anger. The familiar scent of your perfume - usually calming - now seems to mock him with its potential absence.

"You're trying to leave me, just like everyone else. Just like my mom, just like Sarah..." His voice cracks slightly on his sister's name before hardening again. "Well, I won't fucking let you."

You tense at the sudden shift in Rafe's demeanor, your heart rate picking up as you watch him slam your binder shut. The warmth drains from your eyes, replaced by a flicker of fear you try desperately to hide. Your skin prickles with goosebumps as he invades your space, his paranoia rolling off him in waves. You’ve seen him like this before, but never quite this intense, never quite this threatening in such a public place.

"Rafe, please," you whisper, your voice trembling slightly as you glance around at the other diners who are now openly staring at them. Your sundress suddenly feels too thin, too exposed under his wild-eyed gaze. You can smell the mixture of his cologne and sweat, and see the way his pupils are dilated - clear signs he's high again. "You're making a scene. Can we please just discuss this somewhere private?" 

A laugh escapes his throat at your suggestion of talking, the sound drawing more concerned glances from nearby tables. "Discuss? There's nothing to fucking discuss." His voice takes on that manipulative tone he knows works so well, mixing threat with vulnerability. "You belong here, with me. Do you think any of those places are gonna love you like I do? Understand you like I do?" His eyes flick to the promise ring on your finger, a visible reminder of his claim on you. "Or maybe that's what you want - to get away from the crazy boyfriend, right? Is that what this is about?"

The cocaine-fueled paranoia reaches a crescendo as he suddenly stands, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. He towers over you, his presence intimidating despite the public setting. "You're not going anywhere," he declares, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper as he leans down close to your ear. "And if you try, I'll make sure every single one of those fancy schools loses your application. Don't test me, baby." His lips brush against your ear as he speaks, a twisted mixture of threat and affection that's purely him. "Now get your shit. We're leaving." His hand moves to grip your upper arm, ready to pull you up from your chair, his entire body vibrating with barely contained violence and possessive need.

The promise ring feels like it's burning on your finger as tears start to well up in your eyes. "I'm not trying to leave you," you plead, your voice barely above a whisper. I'm not trying to leave you, I love you, Rafe. You know I do. But you're hurting me right now." You can feel your body starting to shake, whether from fear or adrenaline, you're not sure anymore.

You let him pull you to your feet, knowing resistance will only make things worse. Your college applications lay forgotten on the table as you stumble slightly, your legs weak from the sudden movement. "Okay," you concede, your voice small and defeated. "Okay, we can go. Just... please calm down. Please." Your free hand comes up to rest on his chest again, feeling his racing heartbeat under your palm. "Let's go to your family's place and talk about this properly. Just you and me, baby. Like we always do."

Rafe feels you trembling beneath his grip, and something in your tear-filled eyes pierces through his cocaine-addled rage. His breathing is still erratic, but the feel of your hand against his racing heart starts to ground him. The familiar scent of your perfume begins to cut through the paranoid haze, reminding him of lazy mornings in his bed, of your soft sighs against his neck. His grip on your arm loosens slightly, though he doesn't let go completely.

"Fuck," he mutters, running his free hand through his disheveled hair as reality starts seeping back in. The stares of the other country club patrons finally register, and he can feel his father's disapproval even in his absence. His jaw clenches and unclenches as he struggles to regain control. "Yeah... yeah, okay. Let's go home." His voice is still rough, but the dangerous edge has dulled somewhat. He reaches past you to grab your binder, shoving it under his arm - he's not leaving it here for you to come back to later.

The walk to his truck is tense, his hand moving from your arm to the small of your back - still possessive, but less aggressive. The cocaine is making him jittery, his thoughts racing between paranoia and guilt. Once you're inside his truck, he slams his palms against the steering wheel, making you jump. "I just..." he starts, his voice cracking slightly. "I can't lose you too, baby. I can't." His blue eyes, when they meet yours, are still wild but now tinged with desperation rather than rage. "Everyone leaves. Everyone always fucking leaves."

He reaches across the center console to pull you closer, burying his face in your neck. His breathing is still uneven, but slower now as he inhales your scent. "Stay," he whispers against your skin, his voice taking on that vulnerable quality that only you get to hear. "Just... stay with me. Please." His hand slides up to cup the back of your neck, his thumb stroking the soft skin there. It's the closest thing to an apology you’re likely to get from him, this moment of raw vulnerability between the storms of his temper.

Rafe paces anxiously across Topper's home gym, his footsteps echoing against the polished hardwood floors as sweat drips down his bare chest from their workout session. The late afternoon sun streams through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting long shadows across the expensive exercise equipment. His muscles are tense not just from lifting weights, but from the constant anxiety gnawing at his insides about your potential departure. The cocaine from earlier is still coursing through his system, making his thoughts race faster than he can process them.

"I'm telling you guys, she's fucking leaving me," he complains, running a hand through his sweat-dampened hair as he continues his relentless pacing. The familiar panic starts rising in his chest again, making him rub at it absently. "All these fucking college applications... Harvard, Yale, Princeton. She's planning her escape and I can't... I can't fucking let that happen." His blue eyes are wild as they dart between Kelce and Topper, sprawled across the leather bench press seats, watching their friend's mounting distress.

Kelce exchanges a knowing look with Topper before speaking up, his voice careful as he watches Rafe's increasingly agitated movements. "Man, you need to chill. Maybe if you weren't so fucking intense about it-" Rafe's sharp laugh cuts him off, the sound bouncing off the mirrored walls. "Intense? You think I'm being intense?" Rafe's voice rises as he spins to face them, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. "My girl's trying to leave the fucking state, and you're telling me to chill?"

"Well," Topper drawls, wiping his face with a monogrammed towel, "you could always do what my cousin did when his girlfriend tried to leave for college." He pauses for dramatic effect, a smirk playing on his lips. "Got her knocked up. Can't exactly go to Yale with a baby on the way, can you?" He's clearly joking, but something in Rafe's expression shifts, his eyes taking on that dangerous gleam that appears when he's formulating a plan.

"That's..." Rafe stops pacing, his mind racing with possibilities. His jaw clenches rhythmically as he processes the idea. "That's fucking perfect." He starts pacing again, but this time with purpose, his movements predatory rather than anxious. "She'd have to stay. She'd be tied to me forever." His voice takes on that obsessive quality that appears when he's fixating on something. "No more fucking college applications, no more threats of leaving. She'd be mine, completely mine."

"Dude," Kelce sits up straighter, realizing Rafe's actually considering it. "I don't think that's what Topper meant-" But Rafe's already lost in his world, his cocaine-fueled paranoia latching onto this new solution like a lifeline. "She's still a virgin too," he continues, more to himself than his friends, his rings catching the light as he gestures animatedly. "Waiting for the 'right moment' or some shit. Well, guess that moment's coming sooner than she thought."

"No, no, this could work," Rafe continues, his voice taking on that edge that suggests he's spiraling into one of his episodes. "Her parents are traditional as fuck, they'd make her keep it. And Ward's always going on about wanting grandkids to carry on the Cameron name..." He's fully pacing now, his movements jerky and aggressive as the plan solidifies in his mind. "She's been hinting about wanting to do it soon anyway. Valentine's Day is coming up..."

The gym falls silent except for the sound of Rafe's footsteps and heavy breathing. Neither Kelce nor Topper dare speak, knowing from experience that trying to talk Rafe down when he's like this - especially when he's high - is pointless and potentially dangerous. They watch as their friend works himself into a frenzy, plotting the permanent capture of his girlfriend with the same intense focus he applies to everything he wants to possess.

"It's perfect," Rafe finally declares, stopping his pacing to face his friends. His chest heaves with excited breaths, sweat making his skin shine in the fading sunlight. "She'll never leave me then. She'll have to stay here, raise our kid, be the perfect fucking family." 

The thought of you, permanently his, unable to leave him, sends a rush of possessive pleasure through his system. "You guys didn't hear any of this," he suddenly stops, fixing both Kelce and Topper with a threatening stare. "Not a fucking word to anyone, got it?" His voice carries that dangerous edge that reminds them why people are scared of him, why even other Kooks think twice before crossing him.

"Jesus Christ, Rafe," Topper mutters, running a hand through his hair as he watches his friend's descent into this new obsession. "This is fucked up, even for you." But he knows that look in Rafe's eyes. Once Rafe sets his mind to something, especially when he's high, there's no talking him out of it. The gym feels smaller suddenly, charged with the energy of Rafe's newfound determination.

Rafe stands at the door of the l/n estate, his tall frame cutting an imposing figure in his tailored black suit. His blue eyes are slightly dilated from the line of cocaine he did in his truck to calm his nerves, but he's made sure to eye drop and cologne himself thoroughly. The velvet box containing the surprise he has planned for later weighs heavy in his pocket as he shifts anxiously, his rings catching the light as he reaches up to adjust his tie.

When Paul opens the door, Rafe immediately straightens his posture, forcing his most charming smile - the one he uses when he needs to impress. "Good evening, Mr. L/N," he greets, his voice steady despite the cocaine making his heart race. The older man's scrutinizing gaze reminds him uncomfortably of his own father's disapproving stares. The foyer behind Paul gleams with old money - crystal chandeliers, marble floors, and family portraits that speak of generations of Kook legacy.

"Rafe," Paul acknowledges with a slight nod, his eyes narrowing as he takes in the young man's appearance. There's something about Ward Cameron's son that has always set him on edge, though he can't quite put his finger on what. Maybe it's the occasional wild look in his eyes or the way his daughter seems to walk on eggshells around him sometimes. "Y/N is still getting ready. Come in." He steps aside, allowing Rafe into the pristine foyer.

The sound of Rafe's expensive dress shoes echoes against the marble as he enters, his hands sliding into his pockets to hide their slight tremor - partly from the drugs, partly from anticipation of what he has planned for tonight. The house smells of old money and fresh flowers, much like his own family's estate, but somehow more sterile, fitting for a plastic surgeon's home. His fingers brush against the small packet of powder in his pocket, next to the ring box - just enough to keep him steady through dinner.

"I trust you'll have her home at a reasonable hour," Paul's voice cuts through Rafe's thoughts, making him turn to face the older man. "Of course, sir," Rafe responds, that practiced smile still in place even as his jaw clenches slightly. "We just have reservations at Le Rivage, then maybe a walk on the beach." What he doesn't mention is the rest of his plans for the evening - the champagne waiting in his truck, the blankets he's laid out at his secret spot on the beach, the pills dissolved in one of the champagne glasses that will make sure everything goes according to plan.

The sound of heels on marble draws both men's attention to the grand staircase, and Rafe's breath catches in his throat. You descend like something out of a dream, your skin glowing against the deep red of your dress making his hands itch with the need to touch you. His blue eyes darken as they track your movement, his mind already racing ahead to later in the evening, to all the ways he plans to claim you completely.

"You look fucking perfect," he breathes out when you reach the bottom of the stairs, catching himself too late to censor his language in front of your father. But he can't help it - the cocaine making him more impulsive than usual, and the sight of you making his blood run hot. He steps forward to meet you, one hand reaching out to brush against your waist, proprietary and possessive even under your father's watchful gaze. The scent of your perfume mingles with the lingering chemical taste in the back of his throat, making him dizzy with want and anticipation.

Tonight's the night, he thinks, his grip on your waist tightening slightly as Paul insists on taking pictures. Tonight you become his completely, permanently. No more college applications, no more threats of leaving. The thought makes him pull you closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "Ready for your Valentine's surprise, baby?" His voice carries that dangerous edge that anyone else would recognize as a warning, but he knows his sweet, innocent Y/N won't catch it. Not until it's too late.

Rafe helps you into his truck, his hand lingering possessively on your lower back as you climb in. The interior smells of expensive leather and his cologne, mixed with something chemical that makes you wrinkle your nose slightly. He slides into the driver's seat, his movements are precise despite the cocaine coursing through his system. The engine purrs to life, and he immediately reaches for your hand, intertwining your fingers as he pulls away from your family's estate.

"You really do look fucking incredible tonight," he murmurs, his blue eyes flickering between you and the road. His thumb traces circles on your palm, a gesture that would seem sweet if not for the slight tremor in his hand. "That dress is driving me crazy." His rings catch the streetlights as you drive through Figure 8, passing other massive estates and perfectly manicured lawns.

"Thank you, baby," You respond softly, your free hand smoothing down the red fabric of your dress. "You clean up pretty nice yourself." You glance at him, admiring how the streetlights cast shadows across his sharp jawline. "So, are you going to tell me where we're going for dinner? You've been so secretive about tonight."

Rafe's grip on your hand tightens almost imperceptibly. "It's a surprise, remember?" His voice carries that edge of control he can never quite hide. "But first..." He reaches behind your seat with his free hand, pulling out a small gift bag. "I got you something to wear at dinner." Inside is a delicate diamond necklace, the stones catching the light like tiny stars.

"Oh, Rafe," You breathe, reaching for the necklace. "It's beautiful. You didn't have to-" You are cut off by his laugh, that sharp sound that always makes your stomach flip. "Of course I did. Only the best for my girl." He pulls into a secluded spot overlooking the water, putting the truck in park. "Here, let me put it on you."

His hands are slightly unsteady as he fastens the necklace around your throat, his breath hot against your neck. "Perfect," he whispers, his fingers trailing down your spine. "Just like you'll be after tonight." There's something in his voice that makes you shiver, though you can't quite place why. "What do you mean?" you ask, turning to face him.

Rafe's eyes are darker now, pupils blown wide as he stares at you. "Just that I've got big plans for us, baby." His hand comes up to cup your face, thumb brushing across your bottom lip. "Tonight's gonna change everything." He leans in closer, his other hand sliding up your thigh, pushing the fabric of your dress higher. "You trust me, right?"

"Of course I do," You whisper, even as something in your gut tells you something's off. You can feel his heart racing where your bodies are pressed together and you can smell something sharp and chemical on his breath beneath the mint. "Rafe, are you okay? You seem...different tonight."

"Never better," he responds, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. "Just excited to give you all your surprises." His hand moves higher up your thigh, possessive and demanding. "Now, how about we have a little drink before dinner? To celebrate Valentine's Day?" He reaches behind the seat again, pulling out an expensive bottle of champagne and two glasses.

Rafe pours the champagne with calculated precision, his hands steadier now as he hands you your specially prepared glass. The moonlight filtering through the truck's windows catches the diamond necklace at your throat, reminding him of how perfectly it marks you as his. His blue eyes track your every movement as you accept the glass, noting how the red fabric of your dress has ridden up slightly from your position.

"To us," he proposes, raising his glass with that dangerous smile playing at his lips. The cocaine makes everything feel more intense - the way your perfume fills the confined space of his truck, the soft sound of your breathing, the sight of your lips touching the rim of the glass. He watches intently as you take a sip, something predatory flickering in his eyes. "And to all the surprises tonight has in store."

"Mmm, this is really good," You comment, taking another sip. You don’t notice how Rafe barely touches his glass, too focused on watching your drink. "But shouldn't we head to dinner? We don't want to lose our reservation." You move to check the time on your phone, but Rafe's hand shoots out to stop you, his fingers wrapping around your wrist with practiced possessiveness.

"We've got time," he assures you, his voice dropping lower as he leans closer. His free hand comes up to trace the line of the necklace, fingers ghosting over your collarbone. "Besides, I want to enjoy this moment. Just you and me." He can feel your pulse racing under his fingers where they press against your wrist. "Finish your drink, baby. Then we can talk about dinner."

He watches as you obediently take another sip, then another. "You know what I love about you, Y/N?" His voice is rough now, heavy with want and something darker. "How fucking perfect you are. How innocent." His fingers trace patterns on your inner thigh, making you shiver. "How you trust me completely."

"Rafe," you breathe, and he notices your words are slightly slurred now. Your eyes are starting to look unfocused as you blink slowly at him. "I feel... strange." The champagne glass slips from your fingers, but he catches it smoothly, setting it aside. His heart is racing with a mixture of cocaine-fueled excitement and dark anticipation.

"Shh, baby," he soothes, pulling you closer as you start to sway slightly. "I've got you. Always got you." His lips brush against your neck, just above the diamond necklace. "And after tonight, you'll always be mine. No more college applications, no more threats of leaving." His voice takes on that possessive edge that would normally frighten you, but the drugs in your system are making everything feel distant and hazy.

"What did you..." you try to ask, your head falling back against the seat as your limbs grow heavy. Rafe's hand comes up to cup your face, his thumb stroking your cheek as he watches the drugs take effect. The moonlight casts shadows across his face, making his expression look almost demonic as he smiles down at you.

"Just making sure tonight goes exactly as planned," he whispers, his other hand already reaching for the blankets he has stashed behind the seats. "Don't fight it, baby. Just let go. Let me take care of everything." His lips crash against yours, swallowing any protest you might have made as the drugs pull you deeper under their influence.

Rafe watches with dark satisfaction as your movements become increasingly sluggish, your normally bright eyes growing heavy-lidded and unfocused. He shifts in his seat, reaching to recline both of your seats back to create more space in the truck's cabin. The moonlight streaming through the windows casts ethereal shadows across your skin as he positions your body how he wants.

"Rafe..." you mumble, your voice thick and confused as he spreads the blankets beneath you. "What's happening? I feel so..." Your word trails off as he captures your lips in another possessive kiss, his hands already working at the zipper of your red dress.

"Just relax, baby," he whispers against your mouth, cocaine making his movements more aggressive than usual. "Let me take care of you." His fingers trace the newly exposed skin of your back, savoring how you shiver under his touch despite your drugged state. "You look so fucking perfect like this. So helpless. So mine."

Rafe's hands slide possessively over your body as he peels the red dress from your drugged form, revealing the black underwear underneath. His blue eyes darken with predatory hunger as he drinks in the sight of you laid out beneath him in his truck, the diamond necklace glinting at your throat like a collar. The softness of your skin, the way your chest rises and falls with each shallow breath, the little whimpers that escape your lips as you try to fight through the fog in your mind.

"Shh, baby," he soothes, his voice rough with desire as his hands roam over your exposed flesh. "Just let it happen. You know you want this." His fingers trace the edge of your lacy bra, teasing your hardened nipples through the delicate fabric. "Been waiting so fucking long for this moment. To make you completely mine."

"Rafe, please," You slurred, weakly trying to push at his chest. "Something's wrong... I can't..." Your protests are cut off by his mouth crashing against yours, his tongue forcing its way past your lips as his hand slides between your thighs. He groans when he feels how wet you are through your panties, his cock straining against his suit pants.

"Look how ready you are for me," he rubs circles against your clit through the lace. "Your body knows what it wants, even if your mind's trying to fight it." He pulls back to admire his handiwork - your lips swollen from his kisses, your pupils blown wide from the drugs, your chest heaving as you struggle to focus. "Gonna fill you up so good, baby. Gonna put my baby in you tonight."

Rafe’s fingers hook into your panties, slowly dragging them down your legs as you weakly try to squeeze your thighs together. The moonlight catches on the wetness between your legs, making him groan. "Fuck, look at that pretty pussy," he breathes, his fingers spreading you open. "All perfect and untouched. Not for long though." 

Rafe's fingers work methodically between your thighs, spreading your wetness as he watches your face contort with unwilling pleasure. His other hand pins your wrists above your head, his rings cold against your feverish skin. The truck's windows are starting to fog up from your heavy breathing, creating a private cocoon around you.

"That's it, baby," he growls, sliding two fingers into you, feeling how tight you are around them. "Gonna stretch you out nice and slow before I fuck a baby into you." His cock throbs painfully in his pants as he watches you arch beneath him, the drugs making you more responsive even as you try to resist.

"No... Rafe... please," You whimper, your head thrashing weakly against the leather seat. But your body betrays you, hips rocking against his skilled fingers as he finds that spot inside you that makes you see stars. The diamond necklace glints at your throat as you gasp, reminding him of his ownership.

"Look at you, taking my fingers so well," he praises darkly, adding a third finger to stretch you further. "Can't wait to feel this tight little cunt around my cock." His thumb finds your clit, rubbing circles that make your whole body tremble. "Gonna fill you up so good, baby. Make sure my cum stays deep inside you until it takes."

The way your walls clench around his fingers, the little sounds you make as he works your body, the perfect arch of your back as you fight between pleasure and resistance. He leans down to capture one of your nipples in his mouth, biting down just hard enough to make you cry out.

"Please," you beg, though whether you're begging him to stop or continue, even you don’t know anymore. Your body is on fire, every nerve ending singing from his touch as the drugs make everything feel more intense. "Rafe... I can't..."

"Yes, you can," he demands, curling his fingers inside you as his thumb speeds up on your clit. "Come on my fingers like a good girl. Show me how much you want my cock." His blue eyes are wild with possession as he watches you fall apart beneath him, knowing that after tonight, you’ll never be able to leave him. 

Rafe’s fingers work relentlessly between your thighs. His free hand moves from your wrists to grip your throat, right above the diamond necklace, applying just enough pressure to make you gasp. "Let me feel that tight little pussy squeeze my fingers."

Your body betrays you even as your mind tries to resist, waves of unwilling pleasure building under his skilled touch. The drugs make everything feel heightened - the stretch of his fingers inside you, the pressure of his thumb on your clit, the heat of his breath against your neck. Your legs start to tremble as you approach your peak.

"That's it, baby," He watches your face contort with pleasure and confusion. His cock strains painfully against his suit pants, demanding attention. But he forces himself to wait, to savor this moment of taking your innocence piece by piece. "Give it to me. Show me how good I make you feel."

The sound of your heavy breathing fills the truck's cabin, mixing with the wet sounds of his fingers working between your legs. Rafe's eyes are dark with possession as he watches you fight against the inevitable, knowing that each moment brings him closer to his ultimate goal. The moonlight catches on the sweat beading on your skin, making you glow ethereally.

"I... I can't..." You whimper, your back arching off the seat as pleasure builds to an unbearable level. The drugs make everything feel like too much and not enough all at once. "Rafe, please..." Your fingers clutch desperately at his shoulders. "You can, and you will," he commands, his voice taking on that dangerous edge that brooks no argument. His fingers curl inside you, finding that spot that makes you see stars while his thumb circles your clit with practiced precision. "Come for me now. Let me feel it."

Rafe watches with dark satisfaction as your body trembles beneath him, your back arching off the leather seat as pleasure builds. His fingers work relentlessly inside your pussy, stretching and preparing you for what's to come. The way your walls clench around his digits, the little gasps and moans you can't hold back, the perfect arch of your spine as you fight between resistance and ecstasy.

"That's my good girl," his free hand moving from your throat to grip your hair, forcing you to look at him. "Watch me while you come. Want to see those pretty eyes when I make you fall apart." His thumb continues its relentless assault on your clit as his fingers curl inside you, hitting that spot that makes your whole body shake.

Your eyes flutter open, glazed with drugs and unwilling pleasure. The moonlight catches the tears gathering in your lashes as you stare up at him, unable to look away from his intense blue gaze. Your lips part in a silent scream as the pressure builds to an unbearable level, your body tightening around his fingers.

"Please," Her hands clutch desperately at his shoulders, leaving crescent marks through his expensive shirt. "Rafe, I can't... it's too much..."

"Yes, you can," he demands, his voice rough with desire and dominance. "Come for me now, baby. Show me how good I make you feel." His fingers speed up inside you, the wet sounds of your arousal filling the truck's cabin. "Let go. Let me see you fall apart before I fuck you properly."

The combination of his skilled fingers, the drugs in your system, and his commanding voice finally pushes you over the edge. Your whole body goes rigid as pleasure crashes through you, walls clenching rhythmically around his fingers as you come with a broken cry of his name. 

"Beautiful," he breathes, working you through the aftershocks as you tremble beneath him. "But we're not done yet, baby. Not even close." His free hand moves to his belt, the sound of the buckle loud in the confined space. "Now it's time for the main event. Time to make you completely mine."

Rafe takes his time unbuckling his belt, the metallic sound echoing in the confined space of his truck. His blue eyes never leave your face as he watches you come down from your high, your body still trembling with aftershocks. Your chest heaves with each breath, the glisten of sweat on your skin, the slight quiver of your thighs as they remain spread for him.

"Look at you," he grunts, finally freeing his throbbing cock from his pants. "All fucked out from just my fingers, and we haven't even gotten to the best part yet." His hand wraps around his length, stroking slowly as he positions himself between your legs. The head of his cock brushes against your sensitive folds, making you whimper. "Been waiting so fucking long for this moment."

"Rafe," You slur, your drugged mind struggling to focus as you feel his size pressing against your entrance. "Wait... I'm not ready..." Your weak protests only serve to fuel his desire, his grip tightening on your hip as he holds you in place. The diamond necklace at your throat catches the moonlight as you try to shift away.

"You're more than ready, baby," he counters, using his free hand to spread your wetness along his length. "Your body's begging for it. Been begging for it all night." He leans down, capturing your lips in a possessive kiss as he starts to push inside your entrance. The stretch is intense, making you gasp against his mouth. "Gonna make you take every fucking inch."

His cock inches forward slowly, savoring the way your walls resist his invasion. The truck's windows are completely fogged now, creating a private world for just the two of you. Rafe's breathing grows heavier as he feels your tight heat enveloping him, his control starting to slip. "Fuck, you're so tight," he groans, his fingers digging into your hip hard enough to leave bruises. "Taking my cock so well, just like I knew you would."

Tears stream down your cheeks as he stretches you open, the mixture of pain and drugged pleasure making your head spin. Your hands clutch at his shoulders, nails digging into the expensive fabric of his suit jacket. "Almost there, baby," he pants against your neck, his hips still pushing forward relentlessly. "Just a little more and you'll have all of me." His free hand slides between them to rub your clit, knowing the added stimulation will help your body accept him. "Gonna fill this tight little pussy up with my cum, make sure it takes. Make sure you can never leave me."

Rafe's hips finally meet yours as he bottoms out inside you, a groan of satisfaction rumbling deep in his chest. Your walls flutter around his length as you adjust to being completely filled for the first time. The truck's cabin is thick with the scent of sex and sweat, the leather seats creaking beneath them with each subtle movement.

"There we go," he pants against your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there. His hands grip your hips possessively as he holds himself still, savoring the moment. "Been dreaming about this for so fucking long, baby. About claiming you completely." You whimper beneath him, your mind is hazy from the drugs as your body struggles to accommodate his size. Tears continue to stream down your cheeks, your fingers clutch weakly at his shoulders as you feel him throb inside you.

"Please," you manage to gasp, though your drugged state makes it hard to form coherent thoughts. "It's too much... I can't..." Your protests are cut off by his mouth capturing yours in a demanding kiss, his tongue invading your mouth just as his cock has invaded your body.

"Yes, you can," his hips starting to move in shallow thrusts. "And you will. Gonna fuck a baby into you tonight, make sure you can never leave me." His movements gradually become deeper, and more purposeful, as he establishes a rhythm. "Watch me while I do it. Want to see those pretty eyes when I breed you." One hand slides from your hip to grip your jaw, forcing you to maintain eye contact as he fucks into you. "That's it," he praises darkly as your body starts to respond despite your protests. "Take it like a good girl. Let me feel that pussy squeeze my cock."

Rafe's movements become more intense, his hips snapping against yours with increasing force as he chases his release. The truck rocks with your movements, his hands grip your hips bruisingly tight as he pounds into you, watching with dark satisfaction as pleasure and pain war across your drugged features.

"Fuck, you feel perfect," he groans, one hand sliding up to wrap around your throat just above the diamond necklace. "So fucking tight around my cock. Like you were made for this." His thumb traces your bottom lip as he continues his relentless pace. "Made to take my cum, to carry my baby."

Your head thrashes weakly against the leather seat, your body overwhelmed by the mix of drugs and unwilling pleasure. Your walls clench around him involuntarily as another orgasm builds, making him grunt with satisfaction. "That's it, baby," he praises darkly. "Squeeze my cock just like that. Show me how much your body wants this." His free hand moves between them to rub your clit, determined to make you come around his cock. "Gonna fill you up so good," he pants, his rhythm becoming more erratic as he nears his release. "Gonna pump you full of my cum until it takes. Make sure everyone knows you belong to me." His fingers speed up on your clit as he feels your walls starting to flutter. "Come for me now, baby. Let me feel that tight little pussy milk my cock."

Rafe's grip tightens on your hips as he feels his release building, his thrusts becoming more desperate and erratic. "That's it, baby," feeling your walls clench around him as another orgasm builds in your drugged body. "Come on my cock like a good girl. Show me how much you want my cum." Your back arches off the seat as pleasure crashes through you against your will, your walls squeezing his length rhythmically. The sight of you coming undone beneath him finally pushes Rafe over the edge. With a guttural groan, he buries himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing as he empties himself into your pussy. "Fuck," he pants against your neck, grinding his hips to ensure his cum stays deep inside. "All mine now."

He collapses on top of you for a moment, both of you catching your breath in the steamy confines of his truck. The diamond necklace glints at your throat as he finally pulls out, watching with dark satisfaction as his release drips from your used pussy. "No more college applications, no more threats of leaving. You're stuck with me now, baby." Without a word, he starts fixing his clothes, already planning your next encounter in his mind. 

"Let's get you home, baby," he says, his voice rough as he helps you dress on shaky legs. "Don't want your daddy getting suspicious." His hand rests possessively on your thigh as he starts the truck, knowing that after tonight, everything has changed. The drive back is silent except for your occasional whimpers, the drugs still making your head fuzzy as she processes what just happened.

A week later,  

Rafe lounges against his truck at the Boneyard, The beach is relatively empty at this hour, just a few surfers catching the last waves of the day. His blue eyes track your movement, noting how pale you look, and how your usual confident stride seems shakier. A smirk plays at his lips, though he keeps his expression carefully neutral.

"Hey baby," he calls out, pushing off the truck to meet you. His hands immediately find your waist, pulling you close as he studies your face. "You sounded weird on the phone. Everything okay?" The concern in his voice is perfectly crafted, masking the satisfaction he feels as he takes in your distressed state.

Your hands tremble as you pull away from his embrace, wrapping your arms around yourself protectively. "Rafe, I... I need to tell you something." Your voice cracks slightly as you speak, tears already gathering in your eyes. "I went to the doctor today..."

"What's wrong?" Rafe steps closer, his hand coming up to cup your face with practiced gentleness. Inside, his heart races with anticipation, but his expression remains one of innocent concern. "You've been sick all week. Did they figure out what's wrong?"

"I'm pregnant," you whisper, the words carried away by the ocean breeze. Your eyes search his face desperately for any sign of recognition, any hint that he remembers your Valentine's night. "But I don't... I can't remember... The last thing I clearly remember is having champagne in your truck..."

Rafe's eyes widen in perfectly feigned shock, his hand dropping from your face as he takes a step back. "You're... what?" He runs a hand through his hair, the picture of a young man receiving unexpected news. "But we've never... I mean, I thought you wanted to wait?" His voice carries just the right amount of confusion and disbelief.

"That's just it," Your voice rises slightly, panic evident in your tone. "I don't remember! Valentine's Day is just... fuzzy. But the doctor said I'm about a week along, and you're the only one I've been with..." you trail off, tears now flowing freely down your cheeks.

Rafe pulls you into his arms, hiding his triumphant smile in your hair. "Shh, it's okay," he soothes, one hand moving to rest possessively over your still-flat stomach. "We'll figure this out together. I'm here for you, baby. Always." His voice drops lower, taking on that dangerous edge you're too distraught to notice. "Guess those college applications won't be necessary anymore, huh?"

His hand tightens possessively around your waist as you tremble against him, his other hand still resting on your stomach where his child is growing. The setting sun casts long shadows across the beach, the sound of waves providing a backdrop to your quiet sobs. His blue eyes gleam with dark satisfaction as he feels you collapse further into his embrace, exactly where he wants you.

"What am I going to tell my parents?" You whisper against his chest, your voice breaking. "My dad... he's going to kill me. And all my college plans..." You pull back slightly to look up at him, mascara running down your cheeks. "Rafe, I can't remember anything from that night. How did this happen?"

Rafe's jaw clenches as he maintains his facade of confusion and concern. "Hey, look at me," he demands softly, tilting your chin up with his fingers. "Your parents love you. And my family... well, Ward's always talking about wanting grandkids." His thumb wipes away your tears as he studies your face. "Maybe this is a good thing, you know? You and me, starting our own family."

"But I had plans," you protest weakly, your hands clutching at his shirt. "Harvard, Yale... I was supposed to get out of Outer Banks..." You don’t even notice how his grip tightens painfully at your words or the flash of possessive anger in his eyes.

"Fuck those plans," he growls, before quickly softening his tone. "I mean, things change, right? Sometimes for the better." His hand slides up to cup your face, forcing you to maintain eye contact. "You've got me now. Got us. Isn't that better than some fancy college where you don't know anyone?" He’s super hyper-focused on every detail - the way you unconsciously lean into his touch, how your body fits perfectly against his, the slight swell of your breasts that's already becoming noticeable. His other hand remains possessively on your stomach, imagining how it will grow with his child.

"I'm scared," You admit, your voice small against the sound of crashing waves. "Everything's happening so fast, and I can't remember... that night is just blank, Rafe. Doesn't that bother you?" You search his face for any sign of recognition, any hint of guilt.

But Rafe's expression remains carefully crafted a mixture of concern and determination. "What bothers me is seeing you upset," he lies smoothly, pulling you closer. "We'll figure this out together, okay? You and me and our baby. "No more talk about leaving, though. You belong here, with me. Got it?"

"We should tell our parents soon," he says, his voice carrying that edge of control he can never quite hide. "Get everything out in the open. But first, promise me something, baby. Promise me you'll stop looking at those college applications."

Your eyes widen with fresh tears as you stare up at him. "But Rafe, I can't just give up everything I've worked for..." Your voice trails off as his grip tightens slightly on your chin, his blue eyes darkening with barely contained possession.

"Those dreams were for the old Y/N," he states firmly, his thumb brushing across your bottom lip. "The one who didn't have a family to think about. Things are different now." His other hand presses harder against your stomach, a reminder of what's growing inside of you. "You've got bigger responsibilities. To me. To our baby."

The waves crash against the shore behind them as silence stretches between them. Rafe can feel your pulse racing beneath his fingers where they rest against your throat and can see the moment you start to break under the weight of reality. His plan is working perfectly - soon you’ll be completely his, tied to him forever through your child.

"I... I need time to think," You finally whisper, trying to step back from his embrace. But Rafe's grip remains firm, keeping you close as the last rays of sunlight disappear behind the horizon. His expression shifts into something darker, more possessive.

"No more thinking," One of his hands slid up to tangle in your hair. "No more plans that don't include me. You're mine now, Y/N. The sooner you accept that, the better." His voice carries a threat wrapped in velvet as he stares down at you. "Or should we talk about how convenient it is that you can't remember Valentine's Day?"

Rafe's threat hangs heavy in the air as your face drains of color. His fingers tighten in your hair, cocaine making his movements more aggressive than usual. The darkened beach feels suddenly oppressive as he towers over your trembling form.

"What... what do you mean?" You whisper, your voice is small and frightened as you search his face. The familiar warmth in his blue eyes has been replaced by something cold and calculating that makes your stomach turn.

"You really want to know what happened that night?" he asks, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. His hand slides from your stomach to your hip possessively. "Want me to tell you exactly how I made sure you'd never leave me? How I watched you drink that champagne, knowing what was in it?"

You try to pull away, but his grip is iron-tight as realization dawns on your face. "No," she breathes, shaking her head in denial. "You wouldn't... you couldn't..." But the predatory smile spreading across his face tells you everything you need to know.

"I did," he confirms, pulling you closer until your faces are inches apart. "And now you're carrying my baby. No more college applications. No more dreams of leaving. You're mine forever now, baby." His thumb brushes away a tear from your cheek with mock tenderness. "And if you ever think about telling anyone... well, who's going to believe the girl who can't remember her own Valentine's Day?"

The waves crash behind them as your world crumbles around you. You can feel the weight of the promise ring on your finger - once a symbol of love, now feeling more like a shackle. Rafe watches you process everything with dark satisfaction, knowing he's won completely.

"Why?" you finally manage to ask through your tears, your voice breaking on the single word. The hand in your hair tightens as Rafe's expression turns almost tender, though his eyes remain cold.

"Because you're mine," he states simply as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "And I take care of what's mine. You'll see, baby. This is better than any fancy college could ever be." His hand moves to rest on your stomach again, possessive and threatening all at once. "Our little family, together forever in Outer Banks. Just like it should be."

[casuallyanidiot]

Yandere manager who was never gonna let you get famous.

Nsfw for this one! MDNI!

Warning for noncon/dubcon!

Yandere manager who holds a high position in a prestigious entertainment company. He works with so many prolific stars, so he's surprised that your pitiful little portfolio ever even made it to his desk. You've got no experience, no connections, and you're not exactly industry standard in terms of beauty.

Yandere manager thinks it's kind of funny that a cute little thing like you thinks they can make it in such a cutthroat industry. he's kinda curious about what you're like though, so he calls you in for an interview. He can't help his large, sleazy grin that forms on his face when you sit there in his office stuttering through an introduction.

Sure he'll hire you, but you've gotta get on your knees.

Yandere manager feels a sick thrill run up his spine as he goes over contract details while your pretty little lips are spread around his cock. Your eyes are filled with tears, and he can feel your little whines and sobs vibrate in the back of your throat, and he groans. He has to admit it, you've got that special something about you that certainly has him captivated.

"Looks like we've got ourselves a deal, sweetie," He grunts out playfully and signs his name as he forces your head down further and came down your throat.

Yandere Manager who only books you for enough gigs for you to justify staying with him. He makes you fuck him whenever he asks, and whenever you want an actual job, you have to do something more extreme to get it. A modeling gig? Yeah sure babe. You've just got to dress super slutty and let him take you in the middle of a crowded club.

Yandere Manager who rails you violently whenever he catches you trying to network. He bets you think you're so smart and clever for chatting up some pervy, old director to get a spot in a music video. Does he not give you enough? You don't need all that attention unless he's giving it to you. You don't even know how many people are gonna wanna bury themselves in that tight little hole of yours, how many people would take advantage of you. At least with him, you knew what you were getting.

You're fucked so thoroughly, and Yandere manager loves watching you stumble around after he's stuffed you full of cum. He's started making you wear plugs afterwards just so he can watch the discomfort on your face as he takes you out shopping or for meals.

Yandere manager starts to feel a bit fond of you in not just a carnal way. As much as he loves seeing your cute little asshole twitch and stretch around the toys he pushes in you, he also likes seeing you smile, hearing you laugh. He likes the way your eyes light up when he allows you to do a photo shoot. He starts liking the way you shudder and squeal when you orgasm, too.

He's not a sappy guy by any means. Really, he sucks. Even he knows that, but maybe now that you've got his initials tattooed on your plump, well spanked ass cheeks, he can start making you like him too.

He's gross, and he knows it. But he loves fucking you so much he can't find it in himself to care. I mean you're not going to get away when he's got you coming back to him with the promise of success that he's never ever gonna let you have. Not for the risk of his favorite, cute little fucktoy leaving him.

[farfromharry]

back together and it feels so good

Summary: You and Lando broke up because of his gruelling schedule, but at a friend’s birthday one night the two of you are brought together again and feelings are spilled. Were you always meant to be together?

w/c 3026

Lando Norris x Reader

a/n clearly i cant write small blurbs anymore lol, reblogs are everything <3

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Your breakup with Lando was mutual… sorta. Clashing schedules meant you rarely got time to be together and too many rumours surrounding him were making you paranoid. Lonely and fearful were no way to be in a relationship. So you ended things and promised to stay friends. He understood. His lifestyle was… different than most. He couldn’t expect you to wait for him all the time. It wasn’t fair. There was no bad blood. There was certainly awkward tension though.

You were in the same friend group, so it was no surprise when you had to see each other all the time. The last thing you expected was to still feel that flutter in your chest when you saw him.

Max’s birthday party was the next event coming up and you were dreading it. He had the whole thing planned out. A fancy dinner with the group of you, followed by a night out at one of London’s most prestigious clubs. You didn’t think you, alcohol and a confined space were going to mix well with the ex you were trying to get over.

Obviously you still loved Lando, you were reminded of that every time you saw his face or someone mentioned his name. He was Lando, he was hard not to love. How were you ever supposed to get over him if all you did was spend time with him?

So, your plan was to try and get out of going to Max’s party. It was a shitty thing to do as a friend and he would probably see through you right away, but it was worth a try.

You tried to play the sick card. The morning of the party you called him, preparing yourself to perform the best acting of your life.

He picked up on the 3rd ring. “Hello?”

You sniffled. “Max, hi. Look, bad news.” Cough. Cough. “I’m really ill, I don’t think I’m going to be able to come tonight.”

There was silence on the other end. For a minute you thought he’d hung up on you. You even pulled your phone away from your ear just to check the call was still connected. When you saw his name still staring at you from the screen, your brow furrowed.

“Max?”

He scoffed. “That’s bullshit. You have to get over this fear of seeing him, Y/N. You’re both acting like children.” He was sick and tired of dealing with both of you. Lando was exactly the same, making excuses to try and get out of any event that would include seeing you. He needed you both to get over whatever this was and realise you were hopelessly in love with each other. Being just friends was never going to work. “You were friends before, you can be friends after. Stop being so selfish.”

It was like a slap to the face. You couldn’t be angry that he was talking to you like this because he was right. You sighed. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“Thank you. So you’re gonna be there?”

“I’ll be there.”

As soon as the call was over she tossed her phone onto her bed and screamed into her pillow. Tonight was going to be painful. It was mid-scream that Max’s words echoed in her head. You’re both acting like children. Had he already spoken to Lando? Was he saying the same thing? The idea that he might be avoiding you hurt your feelings, even if technically you were doing the same thing. God your love life was so fucked up.

Your heart was in your throat walking into the restaurant. You hoped he hadn’t arrived yet so you could have some liquid courage before he got here.

A table full of your friends was easy to spot, especially considering all the balloons decorating the table, probably there just to embarrass Max.

To your joy, the table was Lando-less for now.

Max grinned at the sight of you. You gave him a quick hug and handed off his present, nothing special. “Glad you could make it.” There was a teasing tone to his voice that made you swat his arm when you stepped back.

“Shut up.”

After saying your hellos to all your other friends that had arrived, you took a seat at the opposite side of the table to the birthday boy. And when the waiter came around you ordered the biggest glass of wine they had. Hopefully by the time your ex arrived you’d be tipsy enough to stand it.

When Lando entered, albeit late like normal, your friends cheered, shouting out things relating to his terrible timekeeping. He rolled his eyes, waving them off and moving to say hello to the birthday boy, offering up his gift also. The two hugged and then the younger man scanned the table for an empty chair. Unfortunately for you, it just so happened to be next to you.

You froze, body tensing and eyes darting to Max as if silently asking if this was his doing. He expertly avoided your gaze but the smirk on his face told you everything you needed to know.

Clearly Lando was having the same reaction. He had no idea how he was supposed to spend the entire dinner sitting by your side without making a fool of himself.

He awkwardly cleared his throat, pulling out the chair and taking the seat with a greeting nod to you. “How have you been, Y/N?” That was probably the first time he’d actually spoken your name in months. He liked to avoid the topic of you wherever possible.

You smiled. “Good. You?”

“Yeah, good.”

Things went silent after that. Awkward. Everyone else around you was already stuck in conversation with someone, probably another one of Max’s doings. So your options were to sit in silence or make uncomfortable conversation with your ex. Weirdly, you chose the latter.

“How’s racing going?” You didn’t need him to tell you. You had watched every race since you broke up, like you always did, but you wouldn’t admit that. It was you who broke up with him, because of racing, you couldn’t let him know that you still took an interest in him.

He frowned, but quickly tried to cover it up with a tight-lipped smile. “It’s okay. Won the first race of the season, doing pretty well.”

“That’s really good.”

Conversation used to flow so easily between you and now everything you said was a dead end. You hated it. It was strange how you can go from being so compatible with someone to not even knowing what to talk about in such a short amount of time. This was your fault. You had messed this whole thing up with him. And sitting here now, you regretted it.

Then the drinks started flowing.

Turns out all it took was a bit of alcohol and you and Lando were back to your old ways. The stories were nostalgic and the inside jokes came back naturally. You couldn’t remember the last time you laughed this hard. Why had you ever given this up?

You were so lost in your giggling with him that you didn’t notice your friends packing up with plans to head to the club next.

“You lovebirds coming?” Max teased.

Lando gave him a middle finger and you simply rolled your eyes. At any other time his comment would have made you angry, but right now you were too joyous (from the alcohol) to care about what he was saying. “We’re coming.”

At some point in the club his hand settled on your lower back, just how it used to, and didn’t move for the rest of the night. He wanted you close, to be touching you. When might he ever get this chance again? He spent the whole night glued to your side.

Around 2am you were officially ready to tap out for the night. Drunk, happy and practically overheating, you decided you were ready for bed.

Rather than calling an Uber you made a beeline for Lando, like you used to. He had been on water for a while, a warning from his trainer when he’d mentioned his best friend’s birthday; don’t get too drunk, was the advice he’d been given. The last thing he wanted was a punishment in the form of extra training, so he would respect Jon’s wishes.

Your arms wrapped around his neck when you were close enough. Logically he should have pushed you away. You weren’t together and you were drunk, he was basically taking advantage. But having your arms around him again felt so nice. He had been longing for it ever since the day you broke up. And you were smiling at him, the kind of smile that made his heart race.

“You having fun?” he asked, smiling right back at you as his hands moved to settle on your waist.

He barely heard you hum, but you did. “Tired. Will you take me home?”

There was no way he would have ever been able to resist the puppy eyes you aimed his way. For a second he could have convinced himself that the 2 of you were still together. It was just like old times.

“Of course.”

In your drunken state you had forgotten to consider that he might have wanted to stay longer, that you were ending his night prematurely. But he hadn’t even hesitated. He didn’t think about himself once.

It was only in the car, with you drunkenly mumbling at his side, that he started to think this might have been a bad idea. He was so in love with you and he was somehow supposed to keep that to himself.

You should have known it was a bad idea letting him take you home, but by that point you’d had far too much to drink to care. You wanted someone comfortable to be with you and that’s exactly what he was. Of course being in a confined space with him was going to bring up feelings you were trying so hard to bury.

You found yourself watching him as he drove, something you used to do a lot when you were together. He was handsome like that, pretty. You couldn’t help admiring him.

He had 4 buttons undone on his shirt and the skin looked enticing. His arms were straining the material and his jaw was clenched, probably to keep himself from saying anything stupid in your presence. It was taking everything in him not to make a love confession right now. With the way you looked tonight, the way you tossed your head back when you laughed, how you swayed to the music in the club, he was surprised he hadn’t done it already.

When he parked the car outside your flat it felt all too soon. This was the most time you had spent together one on one in months, even if you were sitting in silence. You didn’t want it to end yet.

“Do you want to come in for a drink?”

He didn’t look at you, he knew if he did there was no way he would be able to say no. He was trying to find the words to say no, but he didn’t want to.

So he didn’t say anything. He switched off the car, silently giving you the answer you craved so much. You smiled.

The pair of you made the walk up to your apartment like you’d done a thousand times. He couldn’t have possibly forgotten the way, it was basically ingrained in his brain. He used to stay here more than his own flat when he was back in London. He always claimed it was more homey— really he just wanted to spend as much time with you as possible before he had to get back to work.

It wasn’t necessary to ask him what he wanted to drink. You already knew.

You poured yourself and him a drink and then set them on the coffee table wordlessly. For a second you hesitated before sitting down. How close was too close? You didn’t want to get in his space or overstep any unspoken boundaries, but where else were you supposed to go?

“You can sit, Y/N. I’m not gonna bite.”

Your face burned. You were being silly. It was just Lando, the same one you had always known.

Sitting next to him in such close proximity, in a quieter environment just sent your brain haywire. It was barely even a conscious decision to launch yourself into his lap and lock your lips with his.

He was caught off guard but he did briefly kiss you back. Until he realised it was breaking his heart to do it. He pulled back, dropping his head. “We should talk about this,” he sighed. He didn’t want to push you away, but he also wasn’t willing to get his heart broken again. He didn’t have it in him to just be here when you wanted him, he needed you to want him all the time. If he couldn’t have you back 100% then he didn’t want you back. He was doing it to save his own feelings.

The look on your face was one of complete rejection. It made his chest ache. But it had to be done. You cleared your throat, awkwardly climbing out of his lap and sitting beside him again.

Your voice was quiet when you spoke. “Why don’t you want to kiss me?”

The dark haired man sighed. “It’s not that. It’s just… I can’t stop loving you,” he confessed, his voice wavering like he was just a breath away from breaking down. “I’m hung up on you, Y/N, and I can’t let you play around with my feelings because you’re drunk and bored.”

The implication that you may be playing with his feelings stung. You hadn’t meant to intentionally hurt him, not tonight anyway. “I’m not.”

He frowned. “You might not think you are, but-“ He ran his hands over his face in exasperation. This wasn’t a conversation either of you should be having when it was late and you were intoxicated. “What happens after tonight? Do we go back to avoiding each other at social gatherings, or keep having awkward conversations once every 3 months that we both want to escape from?”

It was true. He was making all fair points. All things you hadn’t thought about. “I didn’t mean to.” Your voice was so small and you were practically folding in on yourself to make your stature smaller too. “I just wanted to kiss you. Missed you.”

He smiled sadly. “I know. That’s the worst part.”

You were both silent for a little bit. He was worried that he’d upset you and you were thinking over his words. He had been honest with you and you appreciated that, but now you didn’t know what to do. Your thoughts and your feelings were all over the place.

“Do you ever think about if we didn’t break up?” The words spilled out of your mouth without you even thinking. Of course he would have. He was sitting here telling you this was painful for him and yet you were wondering if he thought about you.

He laughed, but there was no amusement in it. “Every day.” There was a longing look in his eyes when he turned his head your way. He needed you to know he meant every word he was saying. “You’re it for me. I don’t know who I am without you. The day you ended it, I, I didn’t know what to do with myself.”

His words hit you like a ton of bricks. Maybe you had been selfish, too hasty in your decision to end things. You knew what you were signing up for when you agreed to be his girlfriend and yet you acted as though you couldn’t handle it. Lots of people managed to have successful relationships with his fellow drivers or past drivers, things worked for them. Surely there was a way to make it work, something he had begged you to try before you ended it. The longing that had been building in your chest all these months was only growing stronger as you stood here with him.

When you didn’t say anything but grew visibly emotional, he leaned forward. He waited for any sign of rejection before he took a chance and cupped your face with his large hands. He felt it as you leaned into his touch.

“I love you. I don’t want to keep pretending that I don’t.” He was pouring his heart out to you. How were you ever supposed to just walk away?

“Maybe we shouldn’t be friends anymore.”

His face fell. It felt like his heart was being stomped on. “What?” He didn’t truly believe that you could have just stopped loving him that easily. What you had back then was real, wasn’t it? Or was this just your way of ending things before you got too involved again.

“Lando, I think we should try again.”

By the look on his face he was finding it hard to believe the words that had just left your mouth. “Y/N.” If this was a joke, it sure would be an evil one. He didn’t think you were that cruel.

One of your hands came up to settle over his. “I mean it. I was selfish and you probably deserve better than me after ending things like that.” It was true, but he didn’t think that. He wouldn’t want anyone else. “I love you and I will spend however long it takes to make it up to you.”

That sounded like a pretty good plan to him. He probably shouldn’t give in so easily considering the emotions he’d been going through for the past few months, but how was he ever supposed to say no to you? He never could and he probably never would. He finally cracked a smile. “I’m expecting a hell of a lot of grovelling I’ll have you know.”

Your heart fluttered. “No problem.”

Max was totally gonna take credit for this.

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[aemondsbabe]

Stick it Out to the End

summary: michael is desperate to get into oxford's prestigious bullingdon club; unfortunately for him, they command him to do the impossible to gain admittance

pairing: michael gavey x bimbo!reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, bimbo reader, mentions of hazing but nothing horrible/extreme, virgin!michael, breast/nipple play, praise kink, piv sex, protected sex (wrap it b4 u tap it), oral sex (f receiving), consensual filming, dirty talk, cursing, what i hope is saltburn-esque humor, mild size kink, mild angst but happy ending, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 12.7k

a/n: images in the header are for aesthetic purposes only & are not used to describe the reader! she's back and she's long as hell but what else is new!!! this is my first time writing bimbo!reader and while she wasn't super bimbo-y, it was fun getting my feet wet! hope y'all enjoy!

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

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Michael

Michael couldn’t help but feel his heart speed up in his chest as he wound through the quiet corridors clutching tightly to the cryptic note he’d found stuffed in his pigeonhole that morning – just a page torn out of a standard notebook covered hastily written red ink; wholly un-intimidating as far as cryptic notes were concerned. Really, he was surprised to see they didn’t put more effort in; with as secretive and imperious as this little club was, he had been expecting some sort of extravagant stationary, perhaps even some gold embossing. 

Coming to a stop in front of an unassuming janitor’s closet door, he narrows his eyes behind the gold frames of his glasses, staring at the door with a nearly accusatorial expression. Michael swivels his head once more, his brows furrowed as he checks and re-checks every door in the vicinity before turning back to the one he stands before. Scoffing, he unfolds the note with a little irritated sigh and quickly scans the page again, mouthing the words to himself for the millionth time that day. 

The riddle had been easy enough to figure out, some trivial little lines about dead men walking, the mob, finding God, and looking to one’s heart pointed right toward some hush hush basement beneath the Merton College Chapel. That, and it didn’t take a genius to see that each line consisted of a specific number of words, pointing him right to the very door he stood in front of now – 129. 

Fucking amateurs, he’d thought after cracking the code in under half an hour. But that was earlier. And now, as he stares at the stupid dull grey janitor’s closet door in front of him, Michael can’t stop the little tendrils of doubt from creeping into his periphery. He’s sure this is the right door and positive this is the right place and yet… janitor’s closet. He checks his watch, 11:50 PM on the dot, and glances up and down the dark, shadowy corridors once more, half expecting one of the twatty rich assholes to jump out and start snickering at him, making fun of him for thinking that a no one like him would’ve ever received an invite to a club like this. 

Shaking his head, he reaches for the doorknob anyway, he’s come this far so he may as well. He freezes a little when it actually turns and his blue eyes go wide when he pushes the door open, shivering a little as he’s met with a wall of cool, dank air – eau de basement, just as he’d expected. A little actually impressed sigh passes his lips when he pokes his head in, an apprehensive smile blooming on his lips as he takes in the eerie red lighting spilling up the stairwell from the God-knows-what downstairs. 

He winces as the door squeaks when he tugs it open but he doesn’t stop, emboldened now as he knows he had been right once again. He takes the stairs quickly, probably too quickly given that he hasn’t a fucking clue what or who could be down here, but before he can dwell on the idea too much, he’s faced with another corridor. This one, unlike the ones upstairs, is narrow and brick-lined and leads in only one direction, straight to another closed door at the other end. 

Michael squints against the bright red light coming from a spotlight that had been haphazardly set up on the stone floor and walks down the hallway, his steps speeding up as he hears the janitor’s door above him open and close once more. His breath hitches a little as he opens the second door and quickly steps inside, like ripping off a band-aid. 

He freezes once more when a strong hand latches onto his shoulder and quickly jerks him further into the room, making him yelp as he stumbles, trying to keep pace with whoever the hell is leading him. 

“What the –”

Before he has time to so much as blink, his back thuds against a brick wall and finally he looks up, the vicious scowl he’d prepared morphing into a look of disturbed confusion as he eyes a row of other students, about fifteen and all men from the looks of it, dawned with black –

Oh, Christ, are those ski masks? He thinks as he eyes them up and down, How fucking banal… at least it’s not hooded cloaks. He nearly rolls his eyes as he scans the rest of the room, taking in the dim lighting interspersed with blues and greens from more of those stupid party boy spotlights. Glancing to the side, he sees another boy in his year, some guy he only knew from a few classes and passing glances in the hallways, but even still he’s comforted to not be alone down here, no matter how cliché this whole affair seemed. 

His blue eyes snap forward as the door, the only door, to the room is opened once more and some other poor sap is hastily dragged across the room, only to be smacked on the wall to his left. Again, it’s just some other boy Michael knows from classes, though he doesn’t know why he expects any different – it’s not as if he knows many people outside of the forced proximity of a lecture hall. Which was really his only reason for putting up with this bother, for seeking it out in the first place; a quick flash of him placing a tightly folded up sticky note with his name and pigeonhole number in an old, beaten up copy of King Lear in the library played in his mind – the price he seemed to pay for loneliness. 

Distantly, the bells of the chapel began to chime, signaling the hour. Once, twice, and eventually twelve times – midnight. Time to start the show, Michael surmises. 

“Welcome, initiates,” one of the hooded men says in a tone that makes Michael glare judgmentally, his voice pitched down like some idiotic knock-off Darth Vader. He steps forward from the row they stand in and holds his arms out open at his sides, “Consider this your first foray into the Bullingdon Club.”

Again, he has to bite the inside of his cheek to hold in a scoff. This was all just so… juvenile? He was beginning to sincerely doubt that this was the über clandestine club that granted its members all sorts of connections to various businesses, societies, and insider information that even the richest of the rich couldn’t buy. 

Unfortunately, his face seemed to betray more of his emotions than he intended and the masked boy steps forward once more, his dark eyes zeroing in on Michael. 

“You,” he says gruffly, pointing a finger in his direction, “Something you wanna say, initiate?”

Out of habit, he pushed his glasses up on his nose before he spoke, perhaps foolishly bold given the situation. 

“Doesn’t this all seem a bit much for three people?” He scoffs, shaking his head slightly, “I mean, masks, really?”

The hooded boy stops for a second and studies Michael closely, one hand on his hip, “What’s wrong with the masks?”

“Well, what’s the point? There’s, what, fifteen or sixteen of you? And three of us?” He asks, glancing around the room, which he now realized very clearly used to be some run-of-the-mill storage room, probably forgotten about by now.

The boy laughs sarcastically and shrugs his shoulders a bit, his voice back to its natural pitch, “It wouldn’t really be a secret thing if we just invited half the student body, mate.”

Michael supposes his reasoning is sound and says as much with a little hum and nod of his head, eyebrows raising dismissively. 

“Anything else?” The masked boy asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

“The masks don’t really disguise you lot that well,” he observes, pointing at one of the other boys standing in the row, “That’s Harry from Multivariable Calculus.”

“Shit…” Harry mutters under his breath, the sound carrying through the concrete room. A few of the other boys in the row lean over and place comforting hands on his shoulders and murmur words of encouragement, much to Michael’s dismay.

“Why’re you here, initiate?” The lead boy asks, turning back to Michael.

“Dunno,” he shrugs again, pushing his glasses up his nose, “Friends, I guess.”

A couple of the boys in the row make little noises, mutters of empathy that make the blond’s eyebrows furrow together in confusion as he glances up and down the line. 

“And this was your first thought? A secret society?” Harry from Multivariable Calculus asks with a little laugh, “Not like… chess or something?” 

“Don’t really like chess…” Michael says with a little shrug. Apparently a good enough answer for Harry, who makes a little noise of understanding and nods his head. 

After another moment, the lead boy clears his throat, which shuts up the rest. “Anyway,” he says, his voice falsely low once more. “Each of you will be given a task…,” his dark eyes glance between Michael and the other two boys as he paces in front of them, “Perfectly customized to challenge you, to push you to your absolute limits.” 

The masked boy pauses his little speech and gestures back to three of the other boys standing in the row behind him who then step forward and walk over to the dank brick wall that Michael and the other two boys stand against. He studies the boy that walks towards him carefully, his eyes narrowing in suspicion when he notices how much shorter he appears to be.

Finally, the boy comes to stand before him and presents a plain white envelope, though Michael’s lips spread into a hateful smirk when he sees an all too familiar pair of old, beat up trainers on the boy’s feet. 

“Oliver?!” He hisses meanly, shock lacing his voice as he jerks back the hand he had reached out for the envelope, wincing as his elbow collides with the cool wall behind him. He glances around the room, noting the few pairs of eyes that were on him, before fixing his gaze on the boy before him once more with a harsh glare, “You’re in Bullingdon?”

The boy in front of him hesitates for a second, cutting a sideways glance toward a taller boy that was busy presenting an envelope to the boy to Michael’s left, before he sighs and looks back at him, blue eyes peeking out of the holes in his ski mask. “Yeah,” he huffs, shrugging his shoulders defensively, “How’d you know it was me, then?”

“You look like a goddamn twelve year old!” Michael jeers, his voice low and vicious as his hands curl into fists at his sides, “How’d you manage to get into this club anyway?” He questions, seething, “They only let you in if you have the money or the marks and I know for a fucking fact you don’t have either.”

Oliver sighs again and rolls his eyes, which makes him see red and grit his teeth, although he doesn’t miss how the shorter boy’s eyes cut to the side again quickly. He opens his mouth, but before he can get a word in edgewise, the blond cuts him off with a little mocking laugh.

“Don’t tell me that’s fucking Catton,” Michael groans lowly with a shake of his head, breathing heavily as he feels the same sense of anger and betrayal he’d felt all those months ago well up in him once more, transporting him right back to the stupid damn pub, “You’ve got to be bloody kidding me, is this shite little club only full of cunts?”

“Look, I’m –” 

Oliver starts to speak again, only to be cut off when the head boy traipses over to where they are, coming to stand ominously behind him with his arms clasped behind his back. His dark eyes dart between the two boys before he speaks.

“Problem over here, lads?”

“No,” Oliver answers quickly, staring warily up at Michael as he practically shoves the envelope into his arms, “Just complete the task, initiate. You have thirty-six hours.” 

Before Michael can blink, Oliver turns his back and stalks back over to the other boys, taking his place in the row once more. The head boy looks Michael up and down appraisingly before nodding to the letter in his hands with a sly smirk.

“I can’t wait to see how you fare with that one, Gavey,” he says, his voice low and threatening, as if he’s in on the most delicious joke, “Remember, thirty-six hours, initiate.” He chuckles softly and departs, returning to stand in the center of the room. 

Everyone stands still for a moment, Michael and the other two boys to his left and right holding their respective envelopes nervously, unsure if they were supposed to open them now or not. Thankfully, the head boy clears his throat, commanding all eyes to him once again.

“Initiates,” he says slowly, his voice no doubt already hoarse from this little farce, “Failure to complete your tasks will result in a permanent ban from Bullingdon; no second chances. We expect results as well as proof of those results,” his dark eyes scan over the three boys once more, one corner of his mouth turned up into a mean smirk, “We’ll be seeing you back in this location Sunday at noon. Your thirty-six hours begin now… have fun.” He finishes with a taunting laugh before turning and exiting from the room, the old door creaking as he pulls it open before disappearing into the faint red glow of the hallway, followed by the rest of the fifteen boys in an orderly line.

As soon as the old door closes, the sound of paper tearing echoes around the dimly lit basement as Michael and the other two boys hastily tear open their envelopes. Pulling out a little slip of paper, his eyes go wide as a wave of dread washes over him. His eyes scan over the paper again and again as he nervously shoves his glasses back up his nose once more, silently willing the chicken-scratch words on the paper to somehow change, to give him some other command. 

His heart is pumping so loudly in his ears that he misses it when one of the other boys tries getting his attention, his head snapping up suddenly as a hand waves in front of it.

“Oi!”

“W-What?” 

“What did they give you?” The boy asks, nodding at the scrap of paper in Michael’s hand.

He clears his throat and tries his best to come off as casual, though he hardly cares with the way thoughts begin racing through his mind. “Oh, um,” he starts, glancing down to read over the paper once more, “I just uh, have to sleep with someone is all.”

The other two boys gape at him for a moment before groaning frustratedly. The one that had first spoken to him holds his paper out and smacks it disdainfully with the back of his hand.

“What the hell?” He asks gruffly, glancing between his paper and Michael, “Why’s yours so bloody easy?”

“For real,” sighs the second boy, rubbing the back of his head, “Ours are damn near impossible. They must already be decided on you to go so soft. How am I meant to steal the fucking Selden Map from Bodleian?” He laments, brows furrowed as he stares down at the paper in his hands.

“Yeah, and I have to transfer ten thousand pounds out of the chancellor’s bank account and into mine!” The first boy sighs, shaking his head, “At least your mum’s head of conservatorship here, you can at least get within a stone’s throw of the map. I have to commit fucking wire fraud!” 

The two boys grumble for another moment as Michael silently descends into a tailspin, his blue eyes unfocused as he stares at one of the dingy brick walls of the basement, trying desperately to formulate a plan, any plan. He merely glances up as the other to head for the door, spitballing ideas for each of their tasks.

“Isn’t your dad the president of Julius Baer? Can’t you just get him to pull strings?”

“Oh, yeah, fantastic idea! I’ll just ring him and ask the old man to commit a felony! What could possibly go wrong there?”

Michael tries to tune out their bickering as the three of them ascend the staircase and trail out into the hallway of Merton College Chapel once more; the two other boys don’t pay him any mind as they continue whispering amongst themselves, their voices trailing quietly down the hallway as he leans with his back against the cool metal of the janitor’s closet door. 

Sighing, he reads over the directive again, his blue eyes catching on the sharply scrawled letters of a very familiar name, one that makes his cheeks flush and his heart race. He swallows nervously, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.

How could they know to do this? He wonders sheepishly. It’s not like he’d mentioned her to anyone; hell, he’d never even said so much as three words to her! No, his pathetic little crush was entirely in his mind. 

Too much of a coward to even say hi, he bemoans, trying to stave off the sense of shame he felt as he considered how many times he’d finished with her name on his lips, her pretty face and soft curves and sweet smell and little girly outfits whirling around his head since he’d spotted her on the first fucking day; he’d pined ever since and she didn’t even know he existed! How could she?

This is fucking impossible, he thinks miserably, wishing that he had any other task. He’d rather steal the Queen’s own goddamn family jewels than this. He glances at his watch once more and groans when he sees it’s almost already two in the morning; pushing himself up off the door, he hangs his head as he scurries back to his dorm room, thoughts spiraling as he plots. 

You

A laugh bubbles up past your lips as you sway your hips, your whole body vibrating as “Umbrella” blasts through the speakers while you dance with your friends, partying to celebrate the end of term. 

“You can run into my arms, it’s okay, don't be alarmed!” You sing happily, yours and your friends voices mingling together with another peal of laughter; you take another sip of your drink as you move along with the beat of the song, savoring the fizzy strawberry daiquiri as you begin to feel a bit warm from the little rush of alcohol, already on your third drink of the night. 

You smile proudly as you spot Felix in the crowd, his hazel eyes already fixed on you, or well, fixated on your chest. His attention makes you preen and you bite your lower lip, the sickly sweet taste of your cherry lip gloss filling your mouth as you purposefully bounce up and down on the balls of your feet. 

The thin straps of your pastel pink dress hold on for dear life as your chest heaves enticingly, and you giggle when you see those hazel eyes widen just a bit, no doubt tracing over the glittering chain of your necklace, following down to where it settles, a little sparkly pink diamond nestling temptingly at your cleavage. You teasingly wink, blushing a little when you get a wink back, and go back to dancing with your friends, knowing from experience that Felix preferred to approach rather than be approached. 

You dance with your friends for a few more moments, grinding up against any warm body you can find as a raunchier song begins pumping through the speakers, before you feel eyes on you yet again. Smiling at the attention, you glance around again, the low, colorful lighting of the pub making it hard to tell exactly which direction your admirer’s coming from. 

Your eyes flit over a few familiar faces, you can’t help but sigh in relief when you notice that Oliver’s eyes are thankfully planted firmly on someone that is not you, though a confused little crease forms between your brows when you realize that Felix’s aren’t either. Turning your head, you sway along to the music still as you look around quickly, your feet beginning to ache finally from the precious little satin Chanel heels buckled around your ankles. 

Your eyes finally lock onto an unexpected gaze, a fresh wash of pink coloring your cheeks as blue eyes glance shyly away from you. A little giggle titters past your lips as you lean over to one of your friends, patting her shoulder to get her attention.

“You know who that blond guy is? With the glasses?” You call over the music, nodding over in your admirer’s direction as he stands awkwardly back against the wall by the entrance, clutching a still-foamy pint. 

She glances over before turning back to you with a little shrug. “Michael something, I think!” She says, her breath warm as she leans in closer so you can hear her, “I thought Oliver knew him!”

Your eyes immediately find the brunette, predictably following Felix around like a lost little puppy, before you look back over at Michael. You can’t help but feel a bit bad when you see him quickly look away from your direction again before staring intently into his pint glass, one hand shoved in the pocket of his khaki pants. 

“I’m gonna take a breather for a second!” You yell over the loud music, leaning in close and cupping a hand over her ear. 

“Aw, babe, come on!” She pouts playfully, tilting her head at you, “Stay longer!”

You shake your head with another little laugh and gesture at your feet, “These are sooo cute but they’re killing me!” You laugh, finishing off the last sip of your drink, “I’ll be over by the notice board!” You tell her, blowing a kiss as you walk away from the dance floor of the small, cramped pub. 

Finally, you reach the little area by the front door and lean back against the wall, taking in a much-needed deep breath as you pull your little tube of lip gloss out of your bra and carefully reapply some more, smirking when you glance over out of the corner of your eye and see a certain blond boy already shyly eyeing you. 

Rubbing your lips together with a little pouty pop, you tuck your gloss back in your bra once more before slowly approaching Michael, prettily manicured hands clasped behind your back to help shamelessly push your chest out more. His wide eyed stare makes you giggle and blush as you study him, eyes flitting appreciatively up and down his lithe frame; so much potential hidden away under a little button down and khakis. 

“Haven’t seen you here before,” you tease, smirking when he blushes and all but chokes on his beer, coughing for a few seconds before finally speaking.

“I… Me?” He asks awkwardly, glancing around for seemingly anyone else you could be talking to.

Lucky for him, you find his awkwardness endearing. Truthfully, you had for months, never missing the way his eyes always happened upon you in a crowd. There was something impressive about the boy, something that had made your mind drift to him on more than one occasion, even if you were already under someone else. 

“Of course you, silly,” you laugh softly, leaning against the wall next to him and tilting your head curiously, “You’re Michael, right?”

His eyes go wide again and nods wordlessly before finding his voice. “Yeah, Michael,” he says with a reserved little smile, “Gavey! Michael Gavey…” He adds awkwardly, cheeks flushing even more when you giggle, seemingly charmed by his inability to string two words together. He nods as you introduce yourself.

“I know,” he says before blinking, eyes going wide behind his gold framed glasses as he awkwardly glances away, “I just… I mean I’ve heard your name before, that’s all.”

“That’s all, huh?” You echo with a flirty little giggle, twirling a lock of hair around your finger as you let the moment linger, just wanting to push him a little. “What’re you reading?” You ask curiously, cocking your head to the side a little.

“Maths,” he nods quickly before looking down into his pint glass once more as if fizzling beer is the most interesting thing in the world, “I don’t really like it all that much, though… I mostly only picked it because I’m good at it.”

“Ooh,” you coo softly, nodding along with his words as you watch him carefully, “You must be wicked smart, I can’t do maths to save my life.” You comment with a little giggle, biting your lip when he seems to perk up at that comment and looks up at you with a little grin. 

“I can do it in my head,” he says lowly, an unexpectedly cocky edge to his voice that has your heart picking up in your chest, “Ask me a sum,” he says, a challenging glimmer in his eyes. 

You hum softly, biting your lip as you think for a second, “Uhm, seventy-two plus a hundred and thirteen?”

“One eighty-five,” he chuckles after no more than a second before scoffing a little, “Come on, give me one that’s hard, love.”

Love? The little pet name makes you raise an eyebrow before you laugh softly. “What do you mean a hard one?” You giggle, shaking your head, “That one was hard!”

“That was hard for you?” He teases, making your cheeks tingle as a pink flush settles over your skin, “What’re you reading, then?”

“Art history!” You chirp proudly, chuckling nervously when you see him roll his eyes a bit, “What? Something wrong with that?”

He shakes his head dismissively, quickly polishing off the last of his pint before setting the empty class on a table and turning back to you, pushing his glasses up his nose with a grin, “Ask me another one, then. Biggest numbers you can think of.”

You don’t know why, but something about his little challenge has you blushing again, like he’s testing you somehow. But still, you take a moment to think of some numbers, biting your lip and quirking your eyes up toward the ceiling. 

“Six hundred thirty-two times… eight hundred ninety-one,” you hum, cocking your head to the side as you watch him closely. His eyes seem to glaze over, only for a second, before once again he’s spouting off numbers like a calculator. 

“Five hundred sixty-three thousand, one hundred and twelve.” 

Your eyebrows raise at that as you gawk at him. “Wow…,” you breathe after a moment, blinking as you stare up at him, “You’re, like, super smart, then?”

“Suppose so,” he says, smiling shyly again as he tucks both hands into the pockets of his khaki pants.

You study him for a moment as the conversation lulls, finding something endlessly fascinating about the boy; the way he could swing from being so cocky and self assured to shy and awkward makes your stomach do summersaults. Turning your head, you spot your group of friends still dancing and you look back at Michael with a little sigh as another upbeat song blasts loudly through the pub. 

“D’you wanna get out of here?” You ask, smirking when he looks up at you shyly.

“W-What?”

“My dorm’s only, like, a minute from here,” you flirt, sweet and enticing as you make him blush somehow more, “We could go somewhere more… quiet?”

He stares at you for a moment, shocked that you’re asking him of all people to come back to yours before he nods and nervously runs a hand through his wheat colored hair, unsuccessfully trying to act casual. “Yeah, yeah, I can do that.”

“Yay!” You giggle happily, flirtatiously grabbing one of his hands as you saunter past him, heading for the exit, “C’mon, it’s like a five minute walk!” He nods wordlessly and you can’t help but smirk as he follows you like a lost little puppy. 

True to your word, it’s only a few minutes later when you and Michael reach your dorm room, after you’d stopped for a minute at the entrance to your hall to chat with Farleigh, who seemed very interested in the nerdy boy following at your heels. You just couldn’t wipe the smirk off your face as you and Michael left him standing at the doors, mouth open and a wicked little gleam in his eyes; no doubt, he’d immediately scurried off to the King’s Arms. 

The door to your room opens with a tiny squeak, blasted old building, and you all but prance inside, turning back to the blond boy still lingering in the doorway with a smile. 

“Am I going to have to invite you in like a vampire?” You joke with a little laugh as you bend down to quickly undo the buckles of your heels, letting out a relieved sigh when you finally step out of them, leaving you in frilly white ankle socks.  

Michael finally steps into your room with a huffed laugh and quickly kicks off his shoes, you smirk when you see his Star Wars themed socks. “‘M no vampire, love,” he quips, gold framed eyes darting around your room as he looks over every detail. You grin at the little blush on his cheeks and perch on the edge of your bed to watch him, head tilted ever so slightly. 

“It’s, uh, it’s cute in here,” he observes, his voice a low hum as he takes in your frilly, lacy curtains, plush white rug, and equally girlish floral bedding, all encased in the faint pink glow of the heart-shaped fairy lights strung up around the room, “Just like how I imagined…” He breathes, so lowly you doubt he meant to say that bit aloud. 

“Like you imagined?” You echo with a little giggle, quickly reapplying your lip gloss before setting the little tube on the corner of your desk. 

“I just… I – It’s just very… you, is all I meant,” he stutters, running a hand through his hair awkwardly, the apples of his cheeks flushed a dark pink. 

His awkwardness is so endearing, you can’t help but grin. The more time you spend with him, the more interesting he seems to become; this bumbling, nervous boy is so different from the one you’ve seen on campus so many times. On campus, he’s comfortable, quiet still, but with a definite air of confidence – clearly in his element as he prowls through bookshelves in the library or explains some complex math formula in the quad. 

“So, you think about me often, then?” Your voice stays sweet, innocent almost, though you can’t help but tease him; he’s so pretty when he blushes. 

“No!” He answers quickly, whipping his head toward you from where he’d been studying the various pictures tacked up on the walls, everything from boy band posters to stills from Clueless and Legally Blonde. “I mean, yes, sometimes, I…,” he fumbles again and pushes his glasses up his sharp nose, “I think about you a normal amount.” He says finally, glancing at you quickly before looking away. 

You hum softly and stand before walking toward him with a kind smile, though you don’t miss the way he keeps glancing down at your cleavage, or the way his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat when he swallows nervously. 

“A normal amount?” 

“Mhm,” he nods, gaze unsure as you come to stand in front of him, teeth biting into your plush lower lip as you twirl a piece of hair through your fingers, “As much as I think of anyone else.”

“So…,” you breathe, drawing out the word as you reach up and fiddle with the collar of his button down shirt, the turquoise gingham a bright blue blip among all the blush tones of your room, “Every time I’ve caught you looking at my tits in the library or in the quad or in the hallways… that was just a normal amount?”

You giggle as his eyes go wide, his lips opening and closing like a fish out of water. Deciding to take mercy on him, you run a finger down his chest, playfully fiddling with the buttons on his shirt.

“Relax, I’m not mad,” you shake your head, smiling when the tension in his shoulders visibly eases, “Why wouldn’t I want a cutie like you staring?”

His lips part at that as he sucks in a little breath, blue eyes widening behind his glasses. “You think I’m… cute?” He asks breathlessly, heart pounding under your fingertip. 

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip once more as you nod, cocking your head to the side just slightly as you peer up at him. “‘Course I do, honey, what’s not to like?”

Again, he gawks at you, blinking in shock and swallowing nervously.

“I –” 

“I do have one question though…,” you tease, pouting a bit as you slowly and carefully undo the very top button on his shirt, relishing the way his breath hitches in his throat. 

“Y-Yeah?” His voice breaks, making you giggle while he blushes somehow deeper.

“Mhm,” you nod, undoing the second button and pausing when you find a splash of hair across his chest, the same shiny wheat color as the hair on his head, causing a familiar knot to begin twisting itself up in your belly, “Why were you at the end of term party?”

He blinks for a second, evidently taken off guard. “I… W-Was it invite only?”

His question nearly makes you snort and you shake your head, the corners of your lips twitching as you try not to laugh. “No, sweetie,” you peer up at him through your lashes as you rest your hand against his bare chest, smirking ever so slightly when he shivers, “I just meant, I haven’t seen you at parties before… doesn’t really seem like your kind of thing.” 

“I, well,” he stammers, the bottoms of his glasses fogging up from the heat radiating off his cheeks, “I just –”

“It’s for that club, yeah?” You ask finally, giggling at the shocked expression on his face.

“How do –”

“You lot are not nearly as sneaky as you think,” you laugh cheekily, bouncing excitedly on the balls of your feet, “Plus, I heard Felix and Oliver whispering about something to do with tasks a few weeks ago… and boys are very bad at keeping secrets once you get their cocks out.” You add with a little giggle, taking Michael’s hand once more and dragging him over to your plush bed. You sit him on the edge before all but climbing in his lap, smiling cheekily as you straddle his thighs, your knees digging into your soft bedding.

“So,” you start, holding onto his shoulders to balance yourself and smiling a little when he finally touches you, lightly resting his hands on your hips, “What’s your task, hm? I heard they made them, like, particularly brutal this year.”

“I don’t think I should say,” Michael murmurs with a little shake of his head, making you pout.

“Oh, come on!” You bounce on his lap a little, not missing the way his eyes seem to be drawn to your breasts like magnets, “I want to help! Is it something at the King’s Arms?”

“N-No, I really don’t think –”

“I know they keep the important rugby trophies there,” you think aloud, still playing dumb, just wanting him to say it, “Is that it? D’you have to steal one? One of the boys that works there owes me, I could get him to let you in after hours…” You prattle on, speaking faster and faster as Michael shakes his head beneath you.

Finally, he seems to reach a breaking point and his grip on your hips tightens. “I have to fuck you!” He blurts out before sighing.

“Oh, really?”

“I… I have to fuck you –”

“Mhm?”

“And prove I did somehow.”

“How interesting!”

He narrows his eyes at that and peers up at you suspiciously, studying you carefully. You can’t help but giggle, loving the way you feel when his eyes are on you, and you smirk when he finally blinks in realization.

“You… you knew this whole time, didn’t you?”

A sly smile spreads across your lips as you nod, squirming excitedly on his lap. “Like I said,” you chuckle with a little shrug, “Not. Sneaky!” You tease, punctuating each word with a little boop to the tip of his nose, unable to resist. 

He stays silent for a moment, gazing up at you with a strange mixture of awe and unease before he finally speaks through a deep sigh. “So, I suppose this is the part where you tell me to leave?”

Well, that comment throws you off. You cock your head to the side, confused, as your eyebrows furrow together. “Why would I ask you to leave?”

He sighs again and grits his teeth, looking dejectedly at the floor. “Come on, love,” he mutters, looking anywhere but you, “I-It’s not like you’d ever want to –”

“Ever want to what?” You ask with a frown, gently grabbing at his chin and tilting his head up, forcing him to meet your gaze, “You think I don’t wanna fuck you, honey?”

“Well, I –”

“Michael,” you say pointedly, raising your brows as you smirk slightly, staring deeply into his blue eyes, “I’m the one that came onto you, yeah?”

“I… I suppose.”

“Mhm,” you hum, nodding your head as you run your fingers through his short hair, not missing the little sigh that leaves his lips when you push yourself closer to him, your chest pressing tightly against his, “And while I’m not thrilled at our first time being for some stupid little task –”

“It’s,” he cuts you off shyly, shaking his head ever so slightly, “It’s – I’ve never…” He stammers, nervously gripping at your waist once more. 

You can’t help but smile softly, so charmed by him over and over. You nod your head knowingly, raising your brows just a bit. “I know, honey,” you whisper reassuringly, “We don’t have to, I’ll let you take a pair of my panties or whatever else, but we don’t need to do anything.”

He sighs up at you again, so taken with you he feels like he could scream, and shakes his head more, grabbing at your hips tighter, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. “N-No, I… I want to,” he nods, swallowing anxiously, “I do, I just… don’t really know what I’m doing.”

You nod again, listening carefully as he speaks. “So, is it all new or…?”

He shakes his head and smiles a little, shyly, though the sight of it still makes that knot in your belly tighten further, making you blush on his lap while butterflies swirl around inside you. “I’ve kissed before,” he says lowly, chuckling awkwardly as he seems to get bolder, causing you to shudder when he lightly rubs his hands over your waist and hips, “And done… hand stuff.”

You giggle at his boyish explanation and bite your lip when you smile at him, wiggling in his lap as a heat begins to settle at the apex of your thighs. “Can I kiss you, honey?” 

His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat again, making you want so badly to press soft, glossy kisses to it, but you resist, determined to make this good for him. 

“Yeah,” he nods eagerly, blue eyes fixated on your lips.

You smile softly before leaning in and finally pressing your lips against his, both of you sighing at once. One of his hands stays at your hip while the other comes to rest in the small of your back, pressing you more tightly to him as your lips move together, his motions surprisingly fluid and practiced. 

You make a small noise in the back of your throat when you feel his tongue licking at your bottom lip, and eagerly allow him access with a little sigh. Your fingers busy themselves with unbuttoning the rest of his shirt, making him shudder beneath you when you skim your hands over his bare chest and stomach as his tongue flows with your own, the bitter, coffee-ish flavor of the pint he’d had earlier still on his tongue.

Impatient, you pull back long enough to look at him for reassurance, smiling when you earn a little nod. You kiss him once more before tugging his shirt off, flushing when he groans lowly as you trail kisses down over his jaw and neck before swiping your tongue greedily over his Adam’s apple, making his breath hitch. 

“F-Fuck,” he sighs brokenly, bolding tracing over your thigh until his fingers are tucked up under the silky, baby pink material of your dress. His touches make you shiver as goosebumps bloom over your skin, making you whine against the pale column of his throat, “Can I?” He breathes, fingers toying with a strap of your dress while the others slowly inched the bottom of it up higher and higher. 

“God, please,” you mewl, nodding against his throat, your head on his shoulder. He shudders at the feel of your breath on his neck and nods once before tugging at the bottom of your dress. You sit up to help him, whining when you feel his hard length pressing against your thin, lacy underwear, “You don’t need to ask, Michael. Want you to take me however you want.” You whisper as he tugs your dress over your head, blue eyes meeting yours for a second as he nods before they skim lower, widening as he takes you in on his lap wearing only a bra and panties. 

“Holy shit,” he breathes, making you giggle shyly as you lean in and softly kiss over his cheeks, “You have…you’re – you’re perfect,” he sighs, brazenly cupping your breasts, skimming his thumbs over your nipples through the thin pink fabric of your bra and smiling proudly when he feels them harden at his touch, “You’re perfect, but these are… holy shit.” He repeats, his voice breathy and mesmerized as he takes in your chest for another moment while you softly card your fingers through his golden hair. 

You gasp through a little giggle when you feel his length twitch, even through his trousers, and wiggle on his lap, blushing when the movement earns you a broken groan. “Yeah?” You whisper cheekily, watching as he marvels at your chest for a second longer before quickly unclasping your bra and shrugging out of it, tossing it down onto the floor with his shirt and your dress, “What about now?” You tease, proudly arching your back as you bite your lip.

He groans again, louder than he has all evening, and instantly ducks his head down. The feel of his soft lips wrapping eagerly around one of your nipples makes you cry out, gasping sharply as he sucks at the sensitive bud before he runs his tongue over it. You cradle the back of his head in your hands, fingers lightly pulling at the short strands of hair, as he switches from one breast to the other, kneading whichever one is free with his hand. 

Needing something, anything, you finally pull him off of your chest after a few moments, laughing when he all but whines, and smiling even more when you take in his disheveled appearance – blond hair sticking up at odd angles from where you’d run your fingers through it, cheeks flushed as his glasses sit crooked on his nose, and his blue eyes staring up at you hungrily. 

You shift back on his thighs just enough to snake a hand between the two of you and he gasps when you cup the bulge pressing against the zipper of his khakis. “You want me to suck your cock?” You ask cheekily, lightly squeezing at his length. 

He surprises you by shaking his head no,gulping slightly with an awkward laugh before answering. “I do, I really fucking do, love,” he breathes, kneading at your breasts as he stares up at you sheepishly, “B-But I really want to last and if you… if you suck it, I –”

“Okay, okay,” you stop him with a kiss, “We’ll table it for next time.” 

“N-Next time?” He questions, fighting to keep his eyes open as you press kisses against his neck once more. You nod against his shoulder and press kisses up to just beneath his ear. 

“I’m not letting you go that easy, honey,” you whisper, chuckling when he shivers. You spend another moment softly kissing and biting at his neck before speaking again, “Have you ever eaten anyone out?” You question, pulling back to look at him.

He shakes his head, his eyes flicking between both of yours as he looks up at you. “No.” He answers simply, his voice hardly a whisper. 

You can’t help but smirk coyly and cock your head to the side, running a finger through the little patch of hair on his chest just to see him shudder. “You wanna try it?”

He nods eagerly and surprises you once again by quickly swinging you around, maneuvering you until your head rests on the pillows of your bed. You squeal at the movement, laughing with him as he settles over you, his narrow hips slotting easily between your thighs as you silently marvel at his unexpected strength, the shock of it going right between your legs. 

“You want me to lick your pussy?” He asks lowly, grinning when he sees your eyes widen ever so slightly. 

“You’re quite something, huh?” You breathe, still gazing up at him in surprise. 

“Observant,” he shrugs, smirking as he sits up, kneeling between your legs, “You aren’t the only one who is, love.” He teases, quickly undoing his belt and trousers and groaning as he pushes them down his thighs, stopping at his knees. 

Your eyes go wide at the size of his length, it’s clearly very impressive and it’s not even out of his plaid boxers yet. That smirk stays plastered on his face as he leans back down to hover over you, hastily removing his glasses and sitting them on your desk before sloppily kissing you for a moment, surprising you yet again by trailing wet kisses down your neck. 

“Michael…” You sigh dreamily, arching your back toward him when he starts kissing over your chest. He groans from deep in his chest, mouth pressed against the fat of your breast. 

“Fucking hell,” he curses, teasing your nipple again with the tip of his tongue, “Say it again, love.” 

His simple command sends shivers down your spine and you mewl, squirming underneath him, “M-Michael!” You moan again, fumbling over your words as he sucks at your breast again before he lifts his head. 

“Good girl,” he purrs with a sly, easy smirk that makes your heart jump, a soft sigh tumbling past your lips. He shifts further down the bed, kissing down over your ribs and stomach, his confidence seemingly growing every time he presses his lips against your skin; the thought makes your head spin.

Finally, he hooks his fingers into the lacy sides of your panties, and his eyes peer up at you as he tugs them down over your hips before flinging them onto the floor. “Oh, my God…,” he sighs, staring greedily at your pussy, a broken groan sounds from his throat when you spread your legs more. 

You bite your lip and giggle, smiling shyly as you tangle your fingers in his hair once more. “Like what you see?” 

He nods his head rapidly, making you chuckle again as he stares up at you, an almost pained expression on his face. “I… uh, w-what now?” 

He’s so endearing, you can’t help the little sigh that leaves you and you sit up a little, leaning back on an elbow as you use your other hand to spread your center open. You bite your bottom lip once more when he whines a little, seeing you all spread out before him, flushed folds already slick and shiny. 

“Lick here, honey,” you whimper as you skim your fingers over your clit, so keyed up from only a few kisses that you gasp a little when you feel yourself clench; Michael looks like he may pass out. 

Ever the dutiful student, he gives you one last look before diving in. Your head falls back with a whiny gasp as his tongue snakes over your clit, just as you’d instructed. A long, shuddery moan leaves him, vibrating against your cunt and you watch as his blue eyes all but roll back in his head. 

“Just like that, Michael,” you praise, tugging at his hair ever so slightly, which only serves to make him moan more. Your chest heaves as you watch him, determined not to let your eyes squeeze shut while he licks and kisses and sucks at your pussy like a man possessed, “Holy shit!” You whimper loudly when he pushes his tongue into you, groaning lowly when he feels your walls clench around it as he presses his nose perfectly against your clit. 

“You taste so good,” he gasps, wrapping his hands around your thighs to keep you exactly where he wants. He peers up at you through blond lashes as he feasts on you, sucking eagerly at your clit and savoring the way you shiver and squirm from his motions. 

Unbelievably, you already feel that warm, familiar tug in your belly beginning to grow, making your whole body feel flush and taut. “Just like that, just like that,” you whine urgently, grabbing onto his hair tighter and guiding his mouth exactly where you need it, your eyes finally rolling back and fluttering shut, “Holy fuck, don’t stop!” 

Michael grunts as you tug at his hair, his own hips rutting greedily against your pretty bedding — cock throbbing so hard there’s no doubt he’s leaked through his boxers. He watches you carefully, studying your movements and reactions as best he can while he rhythmically licks at your clit. 

“Oh, shit!” You cry not even a moment later, your whole body seeming to stutter as your muscles finally relax. You mewl as your high finally washes over you, savoring the way Michael groans into your cunt as he feels it contracting on his tongue. Your eyes stay squeezed shut as shivers roll up and down your spine, shuddered cries leaving your lips. 

Just as his touches begin to border on overstimulation, you have enough wherewithal to push him away, and he releases your center with a lewd little pop. 

“Was that good?” He asks through a breathless laugh, swallowing as he looks up at you, evidence of your arousal still shining on his lips and chin. 

“Good?” You huff, eyebrows raised as you gaze down at him, “You’re sure you’ve never done that before?” You question in disbelief, chest still heaving. 

He smiles shyly, already pink cheeks seeming to flush deeper from your praise as he chuckles. You cup his cheeks when he leans over you again, whimpering as you taste yourself on his tongue. 

“You’re unbelievable.” You sign as he kisses down your neck again, making him chuckle against your skin. 

“Just observant,” he grunts, shuddering when you wrap your legs around his trim waist. You gasp as his length brushes over your still sensitive pussy, impossibly hot and hard even through the thin fabric of his boxers. His fragmented sigh makes you smile and you tug his head up, blushing as you look up at him. 

“You ready, honey?” You breathe, giggling when he nods his head again eagerly, his hips stuttering instinctually against your center. “Here, let me…” You trail off, the two of you separating for a moment as you lean over and pull open the top drawer of your desk, pulling out a pack of condoms and tearing one off before laying back down. 

You watch enraptured as he kneels between your legs again, pulling down his boxers finally. “Holy…” you gasp when his cock finally bobs free, twitching up to rut against his lower stomach; he’s long and thick, curving a little as veins run up the underside, leading to a flushed, leaking head. He smiles shyly again at your attention as he shuffles awkwardly out of his trousers and underwear, kicking them off and onto the floor.

You hand him the condom and watch as he rolls it on, giving him a little reassuring smile as he does. Once it’s securely in place, you pull him back to you, eagerly kissing him once more and wrapping your legs securely around his waist. Both of you moan in unison when his length glides through your folds, the head catching perfectly on your clit. 

He pulls away with a little gasp, hovering over you as he glances down at your hips. “S-So, I just…” He trails off, watching as you reach down with one hand, grunting softly when you wrap your hand around his cock. 

Carefully, you position him at your entrance and angle your hips a little. “Go on, honey,” you encourage with a soft smile, running your other hand over his chest. 

Nodding once, he presses forward and swears he sees God. “F-Fucking hell,” he groans, loudly sighing your name as he carefully guides himself into you, absolutely in awe at the way your hot cunt grips him. His eyes squeeze shut, his hips resting firmly against yours as his chest heaves, breaths coming in short, sharp pants. 

You aren’t fairing much better, head spinning at the way he splits you open, pressing incessantly at each and every sensitive spot within you. You pant against his neck as he stills, pressed deeply within you. 

“D-Do… fuck, do I just…?” Michael stutters, giving half-hearted little thrusts to test the waters. 

“Yes!” You answer instantly, anxiously nodding up at him as your hips wiggle against the bedsheets, making him swear and shudder above you, “Just move, honey, do what feels good.” 

He groans again and gives a little nod before experimentally moving his hips again, pulling out more this time before pushing back in. “Shit,” he breathes above you, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he grunts with each roll of his hips. 

You pant underneath him, spurring him on by pressing your feet against his backside, urging him to move faster and faster as the frilly lace from your socks tickles his pale skin. “You’re doing so, so good, oh, my God,” you breathe, your voice high-pitched and whimpery as you tangle your fingers in his hair again, knowing by now that it drives him crazy. 

Above you, Michael’s hips slowly but surely begin to stutter, his thrusts starting to peter out as his breathing picks up. “I’m —!”

“Wait!” You blurt suddenly, smiling wickedly as he comes to a screeching halt, pushing himself up enough to stare down at you with wild eyes, “I have an idea…” You tease with a little giggle. 

“W-What?” 

“You have a phone, yeah?” 

“…Yeah?”

“One that can, like, take video?” 

“Yes?” 

“Grab it,” you laugh, pushing him off of you with a laugh. He rolls his eyes with a smirk but does as you ask, clumsily pulling himself from your heat before stumbling over to where his khakis had landed. He shuffles about for a second before pulling a silver phone from the pocket of his trousers. 

“Now what?” He asks curiously, positioning himself back between your thighs, cock twitching meanly. 

“Film me.” 

“What?!” He gapes at you, brows creased. 

“Film me, honey,” you giggle, biting your lip conspiratorially, “For your little task, you need proof, yeah?” 

“Well, yeah, b-but I can just take your panties or something, I don’t —“

“Or you could bring back something better…” You smirk, shrugging your shoulders playfully, “We don’t have to but… it could be kinda hot?” 

He pauses for a moment, eyes flicking between you, your pussy, and the phone in his hand before he nods once, curtly. “We… we can try it.” 

“Yeah? You wanna?” 

“Yeah,” he quips, catching you by surprise as a mean little smirk spreads over his lips, “Wanna see the look on Catton’s face when he sees you creaming on my cock.” 

Your eyes widen and you huff out a shocked laugh, a zing of electricity lighting behind your eyes. “You’re insane,” you say softly, an endeared smile on your lips. 

He snickers, his whole demeanor seeming to change before your eyes as he transforms from this shy, stuttering boy into an astonishingly cocky man. “You like it, love,” he teases, grabbing his dick and positioning himself at your entrance yet again. 

“Wait!” You giggle again, blushing as he groans. 

“You don’t want to anymore?” 

“No, no, not that,” you assure him, affectionately running your hand down one of his shockingly muscular arms, “You can film me… on one condition.” 

“‘N what would that be?” 

“Take me on a date.” You breathe, suddenly shy. You know he’ll agree to it, but even still, your heart pumps wildly in your chest. 

He stares at you for a second, blinking dumbly as he processes your request. “You want me to take you on a date?” He asks, flushing so deeply that the soft pink hue cascades all the way down to his chest. 

Giggling, you nod your head, giving his forearm a reassuring squeeze. “You need to start giving yourself more credit, honey.” 

He sighs at that, a little astounded huff, before he’s suddenly grabbing at your calves and pushing your legs up toward your shoulders, all but bending you in half, anxious to get his cock back into you. You gasp at the movement, and chuckle at his eagerness, a sound that morphs into a whiny moan when he slides back home. 

“Christ,” he grunts, shoulders heaving as he gets used to the way you feel around him once more, “Y-You feel so good, love, fucking perfect.” 

“You’re so big,” you whine, nodding as you look at him like he hung the stars in the sky, “You’re so good, Michael, you have no idea.” 

He groans above you, hands shaking as he grabs for his phone, flipping it open and quickly opening the camera as his hips rut into you, making the springs of your bed creak softly. 

As soon as Michael gives you a little nod to let you know he’s filming, you truly put on a show — or well, you at least stop trying to quiet yourself down and be conscientious of the people in the rooms next to you. The way he has your legs bent back makes him feel somehow bigger and causes his cock to hit that sensitive spot within you with pinpoint accuracy every time he thrusts in, making you clench around him and moan loudly each time he moves his hips against you. 

You watch as he angles the camera down a bit, no doubt pointing it at the spot the two of you are joined together, letting the camera record his cock sliding in and out of you. When he moves it back up, however, to get your face as evidence, you plaster on the cheekiest grin you can muster. 

“H-Hi boys,” you tease breathlessly, smirking as you lean up on one elbow. You wave with your other hand before blowing a kiss to the camera, which makes Michael cockily laugh.

“Fuck, I gotta…” he mutters after a few more seconds, carelessly dropping his phone down on the bed before roughly grabbing at your thighs with a bruising grip, one that makes you mewl and arch your back toward him. The two of you moan and whimper in unison as he begins thrusting wildly, seemingly too worked up to care about anything but cumming. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You chant over and over, head spinning as he bullies your sweet spot. 

“That’s it, love,” Michael murmurs, his voice gruff and low as he stares down at you, strands of his hair sticking to his forehead; he looks wilder than you’ve ever seen him, the thought only serving to push you closer and closer to the edge. “S-Shit, that’s it. Fucking come for me, cream on my cock; please, please, please,” he murmurs, leaning down to press desperate kisses against your neck and collarbones. 

The new position causes his pubic bone to rub deliciously over your clit, making you seize beneath him with a loud whine. Your toes curl, heels still pressing into the small of his back. “M-Michael, holy fuck!” You practically squeal as your high finally washes over you once more, stars dancing behind your eyelids as you go lax and pliant underneath him. 

The feel of your walls pulsing around his cock has Michael reeling, his hips somehow thrusting even faster as he both desperately wants to cum while also never wanting this feeling to end. “C-Cum, honey, cum,” you pant softly, cupping his cheek with one hand and turning his face toward yours. 

That does him in and the rubber band in his belly viciously snaps, making him shudder above you as his thrusts come to a halt, cock twitching wildly inside you as he empties himself into the condom. You watch him in awe, taking in every detail from the way his nose scrunches up as his eyes squeeze close to the way he whispers your name over and over like a prayer. 

The two of you lay in silence for a moment, his breath warm against your neck as he slumps against you trying to catch his breath. 

Eventually, you can’t help it anymore and let out a breathless giggle, which only intensifies when he props himself up on an elbow to peer down at you with a smirk. 

“Something funny?” 

“Just,” you breathe, trying to calm yourself enough to get words out, “Just… wow,” you finally say, giggles petering out as you look up at him, the soft gleam in his eyes makes your heart clench in your chest. 

“Good wow?” He blushes, looking down between the two of you as he pulls himself from your walls with a little hiss. 

“Very, very good wow,” you confirm, grinning as you watch him pull off the condom before he peers up at you with a sheepish grin. “Tie it off, honey,” you instruct, smirking as he does just that, before nodding to the little wastebasket by your desk. 

He gets up with a groan and quickly tosses the condom in the trash before turning back to you, the bashful look on his face making you blush. 

Unable to resist, you grin at him and spread your arms with a giggle, wordlessly inviting him for a cuddle, which he gladly accepts. The bed creaks slightly as he lays back down, relaxing his head on the pillow just beside yours. Again, the two of you stay silent for a moment, content to merely gaze at one another, before he shyly looks away and sighs. 

“I…,” he starts, blue eyes blinking and flitting around your room as he gathers his thoughts, “Thank you,” he finally says, looking back at you with a little half smile. 

Your brows furrow at this as you grin at him. “What’re you thanking me for?” 

“Well, f-for… this,” he says, gesturing vaguely at the two of you before sitting up just slightly and fishing around in the blankets for a second. “And this,” he sighs, holding his phone up before twisting around to set it on the corner of your desk, turning back to you. “I just… I know you didn’t have to, is all, so…” 

You cock your head to the side as you prop yourself up on an elbow, eyes narrowing as you study him closely. “And people have the nerve to say I’m thick,” you joke, lips spreading into a wide grin as you gaze down at him, “I wanted to do all this, Michael. I’m the one that came onto you, remember?” 

“W-Well, yeah, but —“

“No buts!” You laugh, pressing a finger against his lips as you shake your head, “I have eyes too, you know.” 

“What does that mean?” 

“You haven’t been the only one watching someone for months,” you giggle shyly, pressing your forehead against his, “I meant what I said about that date, too.” 

His arms wind around your waist, holding you tight as he processes your words with a dumbstruck smile, blushing under your gaze. “Whatever you say, love,” he concedes finally, pressing his lips against yours sweetly. 

He yawns tiredly when he pulls away from you after a moment, which only makes you yawn as well, and you glance over at the little clock on your dresser. “Christ,” you gasp, turning back to him, “I didn’t realize it’s already almost four… you can crash here, if you want?” 

He considers it for a moment, knowing he has to be back in that stupid little basement by noon and making a mental map of where exactly your dormitory is in relation to the Merton College Chapel. “I… I can stay, yeah,” he finally nods after a moment. 

“You’re sure?” 

“Love, I’m not sure my legs work well enough yet to walk out of here anyway.” 

Michael

Groaning, Michael slowly blinks his eyes open, rubbing them softly as he sits up in bed with a yawn. Blindly reaching over for his glasses, he’s confused when he doesn’t feel them in their usual spot and finally opens his eyes properly. 

He stares, confused for a moment as to how exactly he somehow got transported into what appears to be Barbie’s damn dream house, before the events of last night come flooding back to him. 

“Holy shit,” he breathes when he turns his head and sees your still-sleeping form beneath your flowery sheets, your hair tousled wildly on the pillow as your shoulders rise and fall evenly still with each breath. Looking around, he finally spots his glasses and puts them on before reaching for his phone, and cursing again when he sees the time. 

11:47 AM. 

He practically falls out of your bed as he tries to extricate himself from the sheets, and he hears you wake with a start behind him as he grabs wildly at his clothes on the floor. 

“Michael?” You ask questioningly, your voice still hoarse from sleep as you, frankly fucking adorably, rub at your eyes before fixing him with a curious look. 

“Gotta, shit, gotta run,” he explains quickly, cursing as he nearly loses his balance trying to tug his trousers on, “Need to be at Merton Chapel in, like, Christ, ten minutes!” 

“Ohh,” you giggle softly, watching with amusement as he finishes getting dressed, hair and clothes so disheveled that he’s sure he looks like the very definition of the walk of shame. 

Just as he’s tugging his shoes on and making a mad dash for the door, you stop him. “Here,” you smirk, holding out the same lacy pair of pink panties you wore last night, “For proof,” you explain, nodding to the phone in his hand, “Along with that. Should be more than enough,” you giggle proudly. 

He smiled sheepishly as he pockets your underwear. “T-Thanks,” he nods, turning to leave before you stop him once more. 

He can’t help but blush when you lean in and press and quick kiss to his lips, your cherry chapstick rubbing off on him some. Pulling away, you playfully smack his chest with a little grin. “Go get ‘em, honey.” 

Nodding, he smiles again before finally pulling your door open and bounding down the hallway. “I’ll text you, love!” He calls, peering back just before he rounds a corner, “About that date!” 

It’s 11:58 on the dot when he flings the basement door open, only to be pulled over to the same stupid dank basement wall, his back hitting it once more with a dull thud. 

Glancing around, he sees the ski-masked boys again, all fifteen of them, standing in a row with the head boy slightly out of line. To his left stands one of the other initiates, clutching a black tube of some sort. 

The basement stays silent for a moment before one of the masked boy’s watch alarms goes off just as the bells in the tower begin to chime. 

Once, twice, all the way up to twelve. Noon.

Right on cue, the head boy steps forward even more and looks between Michael and the other initiate. “Your friend couldn’t be bothered to show his face, then?” He asks, dark eyes peering at the boy next to Michael. 

He scoffs and shakes his head, glaring at the head boy. “He’s still at the bank!” He snaps, “All the way in bloody Switzerland,” he kicks at the dirty stone floor as he explains, “Dickhead,” he finally mutters lowly under his breath. 

“Shame,” the head boy quips, clasping his hands in front of his waist, “Some men are simply not cut out for Bullingdon.” 

The boys in the row behind him nod knowingly, each making some little noise of affirmation until the head boy quickly stops them, holding a fist up by his head, bringing it back down to his side when they shut up. 

“So, initiates, what’ve you got?” 

The boy next to Michael steps forward first and hands the black tube to the head boy with a sigh. “There,” he says, gesturing to it, “There’s your bloody map. My mum could get sacked for that.” 

The head boy pops open one end of the tube, a document sleeve Michael now realizes, and gingerly extracts a rolled up piece of parchment from it, unrolling it just enough to confirm it's what they asked for. 

“Well done, initiate,” he nods, seemingly impressed as he flashes a smile at the boy, white teeth gleaming creepily through the slit in his ski mask. Carefully, he rolls the document up again before sliding it back in the tube, “Your commitment to Bullingdon will take you far. Welcome to the fray.” 

The boy stands still for a moment, eyeing the document tube with an almost regretful expression before curtly nodding and taking his place back against the wall. 

“And then there was one,” the head boy murmurs, dark faze fixed on Michael, “I seem to remember we gave you quite the… interesting task indeed, initiate. How did you manage?” 

Smiling damn near arrogantly, Michael all but skips up the head boy and proudly pulls your panties from his back pocket, letting them dangle from his index finger. “See for yourself.” 

The head boy grabs them by the edge and studies them for a moment, turning back to the row of boys behind him with a questioning glance. The boy Michael knows already to be that cunt, Oliver Quick, glances between him, the panties, and Michael, before cutting a sideways glance to a tall boy standing next to him. 

“These could be anyone’s,” the head boy says, turning back to Michael as he shakes his head, “You could’ve nicked them from your sister or something, we’ll need more than this, initiate.”

“Don’t even have a sister,” Michael quips, shrugging his shoulders with a little frown. 

“Okay, like, your cousin or something then –”

“Don’t have a female cousin,” he says with a shake of his head, “All boys.”

“The point still stands!” The head boy finally snaps, making Michael bite the inside of his cheek to hide a little laugh, though the corner of his lips still quirks up in a smirk, “You haven’t got any proof, do you? Is that why you’re stalling?”

Huffing a little laugh, Michael finally lets himself smirk meanly and steps closer to the head boy as he pulls his phone from his pocket, flips it open, and navigates to his video gallery. “Is this enough proof?” He teases, pressing play on the most recent video. 

The picture is small and grainy but there’s no doubt as to what’s happening as the sound of your pretty whimpers and moans echoes around the brick basement, along with the wet smack of Michael’s cock driving into you again and again. 

The head boy stares at the screen still as curiosity gets to a few of the boys in the row behind him and they all come crowd around Michael’s phone, eyes widening behind their ski masks and mouths falling open. 

The tallest one, the one Oliver keeps glancing at, lets out a long sigh as he peers down at the small screen and brings a hand up to his head as if he were going to run it through his hair before remembering the mask he has on. With him this close, Michael finally notices the little silver barbell stuck through his eyebrow and shivers as his lips curl up into a sadistic Cheshire cat smile, a tidal wave of savage pride crashing through his system. 

Finally, fucking finally, I get something he wants, he thinks as your breathy moans continue to pour from the speaker of his phone, tinny and muffled in some spots where he’d accidentally covered the microphone, but beautiful, beautiful and because of him.

After a moment, the video ends, the tiny phone screen reverting back to it’s little thumbnail as the head boy peers up at Michael, the rest of the club members taking their places back in line, though he can’t help but notice that Felix’s broad shoulders are slumped now and Oliver stands ever closer to him, like some kind of fucked up bodyguard. 

“I’ll be damned, initiate,” the head boy sighs with a shake of his head, “I really didn’t think you had it in you.”

He watches as Michael merely nods and pockets his phone again, holding it tightly in his fist even still. After a second, he smiles widely and claps a hand on his shoulder, shaking him slightly.

“Welcome to Bullingdon.”

Some time later, Michael finally exits the basement, a few of the club members, sans ski masks now, nodding goodbye to him as they disperse across campus, meeting adjourned. 

He wasn’t really sure what he’d been expecting from the initial meeting but it was mostly them prattling on about where exactly they had all their grubby little fingers, poked in seemingly every facet of society from Parliament to local newspapers. 

Braggy cunts, Michael thinks as he ambles outside, glancing up at the sky as he steps into the Mob Quad, surrounded by stony old buildings. 

Smiling to himself, he pulls out his phone and quickly finds your number in his contacts list, blushing when he sees you’ve taken the liberty of adding some girly heart emoticon next to it. He hardly has time to press it against his ear before you answer.

“Well?” You demand with that now familiar giggle, some unfamiliar pop song playing in the background.

“I’m in,” he confirms, nodding to himself as he slowly walks in the direction of his dormitory, “Thanks to you.” He smiles like an idiot when you laugh.

“Don’t sell yourself short, honey,” you tease, he can picture your bright, glossy smile in his head, “You earned that spot.”

Michael merely shakes his head with a happy little sigh. “So,” he starts, clearing his throat and pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, “About that date… I was thinking the King’s Arms? Tonight at six, if that works?”

“Oooh, tonight at six,” you repeat teasingly, an image flashing in his mind of you twirling your hair around a perfectly manicured finger, “Someone’s quite eager, hm?”

“Can you blame me?”

“Hmm, I suppose not,” you giggle, pausing for a second, “It’s a date then.”

“Fantastic,” Michael sighs, trying with every fiber of his being to sound casual and cool about the whole thing, even as his heart threatens to beat out of his chest. 

“See you tonight, Mr. Bullingdon,” you tease, making a little kissy sound into the phone before hanging up. 

Michael pauses for a moment, standing to the side on the pavement as he nods to himself. If it weren’t so fucking cheesy, he’d raise his fist in the air, victorious, à la Judd Nelson at the end of The Breakfast Club. 

Instead, he flips his phone back open and navigates back to your video. Sighing, he stares at the little thumbnail for a second before deleting it, pocketing his phone once more, and continuing back to his dormitory. 

He has the real thing now.

taggled lovelies: @helloworldiamnotarobot @drakonflames @marysucks-blog @watercolorskyy @valeskafics @iamaegontargaryenwife0 @aemshaircare @1997babyyyy @lovellies @little-moonbeam-666 @blackswxnn @wickedfrsgrl @echos-muses @imawhorecrux @avidreader73 @marvelescape @rae-11 @ms-morningstarr @chaotic-fangirl-blog @grsveeth0m @twglitching @hb8301 @delulumhaggy @burntliquorlips @fan-goddess @cl-0-vr @kittendoll05 @beautbuck @eponaartemisa @trshngyn @brettlovessuckingcocks @alerisc @moonriseoverkyoto @wolfdressedinlace @do-double-g @kennafild

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[artstennisracket]

Say Ah! ib: Say Ah by Trey Songz please listen while you read :) patrick zweig x art donaldson x fem!reader

cw: nsfw(18+), drunk sex, drug use, dirty talk, squirting, eiffel tower of sorts

girl it’s your birthday open wide i know you’re thirsty say ah

Patrick Zweig and Art Donaldson were two very notable names at your very prestigious boarding school. Art’s parents were rich but they were new money. Art’s dad had created a startup tech way before Art was born and it became super successful.

Patrick’s parents though? They were old money. Like Vanderbilt, Rockefeller, Carnegie type old money. No one even knows what his parents do but with amount of money they pay for boarding school tuition, no one really cared.

Art and Patrick were attached at the hip. It made sense though, they were roommates for years. Their families are friends now. They spend breaks and summers on trips to europe or the carribean. Between the Zweig’s chalet in Geneva, the Donaldson’s villa in the Bahamas, the Zweig’s chateau in Nice, and the Donaldson’s beachfront house in St.Kitts, they were spoiled for options.

There were rumors going around that they share girls. You weren’t 100% sure what that meant but you could use your imagination. There were other rumors that they were actually dating each other but you weren’t sure about that either.

Your paths hadn’t crossed much in the almost 6 years you guys have been here. But tonight your best friend insisted you guys go clubbing tonight for your birthday. You liked to party from time to time but you’d try not to go overboard. Emphasis on try. But you were a party girl at heart.

You put on the white shirt and a sequin mini skirt. You finish your makeup and throw on some heels.

“should we pregame?” You ask fiddling with your hair in the mirror.

“nah we won’t need to,” your friend, Liz, says as she finishes zipping up her thigh high boots.

You raise an eyebrow. You know it’s been a minute since you went out but you’re pretty sure pregaming is still the most cost effective way to get drunk.

She continues as she stand up, “we’re going to Patrick and Art’s section tonight at Ikon.”

Oh.

“oh um- i-i didn’t know, i’ve never partied with them before,” you’re unsure why you’re nervous. You’ve been clubbing a million times. And it’s just Patrick and Art, how intimidating could they be.

She shrugs, “i’ve been out with them a few times, they’re super nice. they just always order bottles so there’s no point in pregaming with cheap stuff.”

You nod and follow her out the door.

When you guys get inside the club is already pretty packed. Sweaty bodies and sticky floors. You hold onto you friend hand as she drags you through the club and upstairs. Weaving through the masses.

You’ve never been to Ikon before, you usually frequent Barcelo or Kapital more. But so far you were liking the vibes.

Once you guys get to their section, your friend steps over the velvet rope and you follow suit.

There’s a ridiculous amount of people from school here, mainly girls but a few guys as well. There were a few champagne buckets with ice on the table. In them, so many bottles. Clase Azul, Dom Perignon, Don Julio. Oh wow, Liz was not joking.

She greats them each with a side hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“lizzzzzz, lizzie, you made it i’m so happy you came,” Art says. He’s definitely a little tipsy.

“couldn’t let you host without inviting the life of the party and the birthday girl,” She says gesturing to herself and you.

Patrick smirks. He’s holding a bottle of 1942 in his hand. He takes a swig before he says, “and who is this birthday girl you’ve brought with you?”

You’re nervous again. Why are you nervous? Fuck. They’re just two rich white boys, you need to pull it together. You take a breath and say, “y/n”

Art smiles and claps his hand on Patrick’s shoulder, “have you taken a shot yet? c’mon pat give her a shot. it’s her birthday.”

Patrick is more than happy to oblige. He walks over to you, holding the neck of the bottle, “c’mon birthday girl, say ah.”

A shot is exactly what you need to loosen up. You tilt your head back, opening your mouth. You move your hand to cup right under your mouth as a safeguard for any spillage.

“there you go, uh uh no hands baby,” He says. The butterflies in your stomach going crazy after he says that. But you move your hands nonetheless. He pours some tequila into your mouth. His aim wasn’t perfect so a little does dribble down your neck. He leans down to whisper by your ear, “good girl.”

And just like that he’s gone.

The rest of the night is really fucking blurry. Art and Patrick were giving out shots like water. If you ever had an empty cup it was filled within minutes. If you were dancing so you hadn’t had a drink in a minute, Patrick of Art were there in seconds. They didn’t even have to tell you what to do anymore. You instinctively tilt your head back and open your mouth everytime they approach you with a bottle in their hand. Their excuse being “it’s your birthday, can’t let you go thirsty”

There’s a moment where you walk back to the table in the section that Patrick and Art are sitting at. They’ve got a few lines of coke on the table, Art going first. So Patrick is the first one that spots you and gestures for you to sit next to him.

“enjoying yourself birthday girl?” Patrick smirks. But before you have a chance to answer, Art is passing him the very tightly rolled $100 bill for Patrick to do his lines. So Art steps in to fill the conversation.

“hey having fun?” He smiles a big goofy smile. He’s actually kind of cute. And a decent contrast to more chill Patrick Zweig. But you haven’t really gotten to know them yet so you’ll hold back on the assumptions for now.

You nod slowly, fearful that too much head movement sitting down would make you dizzy, “so much fun, you guys are good hosts so that makes it better.”

Patrick sits back up and wipes his nose. He turns his head to look at you, “where are my manners? did you want?” He asks gesturing to the half empty tiny plastic baggy on the table.

You shake your head no laughing, “i tried it once and I just threw up all over the place so i’ll pass”

He nods in understanding. You notice he has his hand on Art’s thigh as he keeps talking to you, “good birthday so far?”

You nod smiling, “best birthday so far.”

“good i’m glad we could make that happen for you,” He says leaning into your personal space bubble. If you don’t know any better you’d think he’s trying to kiss you, there’s just one more question you want to ask first.

“you and Art seem pretty close,” You say, not creating any distance between the two of you. If anything you lean in closer. You keep eye contact with Patrick. You can see the gears turning in his head as he thinks of how he should answer that.

He smirks, he does that a lot you’ve noticed, “do you wanna see just how close we are?”

You nod biting your lip, but you’re not 100% sure if this is going where you think it’s going.

He sits back up turning his head to Art’s direction. He puts his hand on Art’s chin making Art face him, pulling Art away from whatever side conversation he was having. And he pulls him in for a kiss. It’s slow and sloppy, expected since they’re both kind of drunk at this point. Art kisses Patrick back with no hesitation, so they’ve done this before.

When Patrick pulls away from the kiss he turns back to you while Art goes back to his side conversation. A smirk plastered right back on his face, “does that answer your question?”

“so the rumors are true? you guys are together?”

Patrick laughs. He actually laughs so hard he throws his head back. When he finishes his laughing fit, he turns back to you to say, “fuck no I am not dating blondie, we just like to have fun.”

They just like to have fun. Have fun? So do they share girls? It’s another rumor you heard and it sounds like something someone who likes to have fun would do.

Before you can think on it anymore your body is spewing out the words, “so do you guys share girls?” No reference to the rumor at all, so it almost sounds like you’re asking for yourself.

Now that peaks Patrick’s interest. So maybe it is true? He leans down by your ear again to whisper, “do you want to find out?”

That’s how you end up in their dorm room at 3am.

Initially you didn’t want to leave your friend Liz behind but apparently she had already left with another which she sent you a text about an hour ago. Wow you really don’t check your phone when you’re drunk.

The three of you waste no time taking off your clothes. It’s been a minute since you’ve had sex with one person, let alone two.

You noticed they had pushed both their beds together, very interesting. Patrick and Art start making out on their bed, Patrick is lying down and Art is on top of him.

You’re not sure where you should jump in until Patrick grabs Art’s curls pushing his head down to come face to face with Patrick’s cock. Once Art starts sucking, Patrick gestures for you to straddle him.

You climb on top of him and he pulls you down for a kiss. It’s slow and sensual, like he’s trying to explore your mouth with his tongue.

Art pulls off Patrick’s dick and moves his focus to your pussy. Since it’s right in his face now, he can’t really resist. He lazily continues jerking Patrick off as he licks up the crease of your folds.

He licks up and down, making sure to go down far enough to lick at your clit too. The he comes back up to push his tongue inside of you.

“oh fuck,” You moan into Patrick’s mouth.

Patrick pulls away from the kiss biting your bottom lip, “make sure you’re getting her ready for us.” You assumed he was talking to Art and on cue Art stuck two fingers inside of you, making you gasp.

Patrick moves his hands so one is grabbing your ass while the other is cupping your breast, toying with your nipple.

You being moved into a different position but you can’t tell where Patrick body ends and Art’s body begins. You’re not sure whose hands are where but now you’re on your on your hands and knees with Art in front of your face and Patrick behind you.

You’re looking up at Art as he drags his tip against your lips, smearing his pre cum around.

“fuck, you’re really fucking pretty,” Art breathes out.

At the same time Patrick had already rolled on a condom and was teasing your entrance, “don’t get all sappy on me now donaldson. c’mon y/n say ah”

As soon as you hear the phrase you’ve gotten acquainted to over the course of the night, it’s like muscle memory and your mouth opens.

Art and Patrick pushing into you at the same time from opposite is a euphoric feeling you don’t think you’ll ever forget.

Patrick hands gripping your hips as he fucks into you. Art’s hands tangles in your hair as he thrusts into your mouth. Patrick bruising your cervix, while Art bruises the back of your throat.

There are some differences between the two of them. Art is very whiny. He whines alot as he thrusts in and out of your mouth, mumbling over and over about how good you’re making him feel. While Patrick is more of a groan-er. He groans and moans as he fucks himself in and out of you, saying how well you’re taking his cock and what a good girl you are.

They went back and forth saying stuff like:

“holy fuck, you’re so fucking tight.”

“fuck, shit, love seeing your lips wrapped around my cock”

“taking my cock so well,” They both said that in unison at the same time. Kinda freaky. But it added to that pit in your stomach that was building towards your orgasm.

All you could do was moan around Art’s cock that was shoved down your throat. Art’s shoved your face towards his pelvis almost suffocating you and you’re not sure why at first, until you hear kissing?

They’re making out above you. At least you can check eiffel tower of some sorts off of your bucket list.

You can feel both of their thrusts start to stutter, they’re close. They pull away from their kiss and you hear Art say, “fuck baby I’m gonna cum, i’m gonna—.” You feel his release shoot deep down your throat before he pulls out. And you swallow it all down.

When Art cums you feel your orgasm rip through your body but it feels different, “im cumming—“ You moan as your body contracts and there’s a rush of liquid. Patrick pulls out halfway as you squirt all over his dick. “jesus fuck,” He moans.

He was already on the edge but your tight hole squeezing around his cock mixed with the visuals of you squirting on his cock pushed him over the edge, “shit im gonna cum—“ He releases inside you before he pulls out and ties off the condom.

Art had already fallen asleep on his side of the bed but you couldn’t really blame him because he was drunk.

You’re not sure if you should leave and try to sneak back into the girls dorms or if you should stay. Patrick comes back and hands you a rag so you can clean up.

“thanks,” You say with shy smile, unsure why you’re feeling like you’re sobering up a little.

He offers a soft smile, “you know you can stay if you want, i wouldn’t kick you out.”

You gesture to the soiled bedsheets on what you assume is Patrick’s side of the bed, “sorry about the mess, i can help you clean up.”

He lets out a small laugh, “don’t apologize that was fucking hot, you do that often?”

You offer a smirk this time, “wanna find out?”

You both have to carry Art’s passed out body onto the sofa while you guys change the sheets. When Art wakes up the next morning to find new sheets on his bed, Patrick ignores all his questions about it, insisting that “it’s better if y/n just shows you what happened.”

a/n: bonus points if you recognize the club names :)

[hai7ani]

Main masterlist | cw smut, objectification, story happens when reader is still a sex worker (details of reader's experiences working in the field is included), read at your own risk

The way you love me (be my baby)

i.

Sex with Rindou is different, you think.

He's not like the other men who pays you money for a quick fuck, or even booking the whole night with you on special occasions that they decide to splurge on drugs and sluts at the club.

They slap you around like you're just some toy meant for their pleasure. A lot of them share one bad habit in common, you notice 一 that they like leaving their wet condoms on your thigh after they finish, never bothering to dispose of it in the bin, and sometimes even going as far as snapping a quick photo of you despite the club's T&C's and against your will.

You're quick to learn that this is all you're worth for. You're fast to drill it in your head, accepting the fact that you are simply just a girl put into this world for sex and pleasure. A worthless toy that anyone gets to play with if they simply have some money or enough influence to get a membership for such prestigious club owned by a reputable organisation.

That's all you are to them: a toy.

But to yourself?

You're not exactly sure on what you are.

Nights are lonely in your room even when you're surrounded by people.

It's men, most nights, but there'd also be a few older women who'd visit the club every once in a while. Lonely, yearning women who are just as empty as you on the inside, aching to feel something 一 just anything at all 一 in their hearts. You can see it clear in their orbs the second they get to feel your touch on their skins 一 a kind of void in their eyes that you don't think you can fully understand, but could still relate to in a way.

Sometimes many men would also come together and loom over you as you cry. Not from pleasure, but from pain. They are always very harsh and demanding with you.

And as always, you didn't think that sex would be any different when you come face to face with a man in a seemingly very expensive suit waiting for you in an equally expensive hotel room. Long, lilac bangs fanning over his brows and he's a bit tanner than the rest. He has bored, doe eyes that turn bright as soon as they land on your figure playing with your fingers by the door, piercing bullets into your wavering soul as you stand before him and introduce yourself as a replacement for Sakura-chan.

And when you finally dare to look up into his eyes when he doesn't reply a word, nor a simple response to your introduction, you manage to recognise him very swiftly.

He's the owner of the club that you work for. Basically your boss, and the bigger boss of Freida.

Haitani-sama.

You hadn't expected for him to be so... quiet, and soft as a person. He's silent when beckoning you over with a hand from the edge of the bed, and still is when pulling you even closer to himself, placing his palm so warmly on the back of your thigh. His touch is demanding and at a place of absolute power, but he isn't abusive with it. His purples are bold, strong, and pinkish lips stained with wine slowly curling into a small smile while he gaze so deeply into your wide, glossy eyes.

You don't really remember much about your first time meeting him.

You remember talking with him, touching him as per your job's demands, and suddenly you find yourself straddling his hips, hands gripped tightly onto his shoulders while you pant and mewl into the air, cheeks flushed and your head thrown back, as he pistons a few thick fingers into your pussy, occasionally bumping and rubbing your clit with his palm so sweetly under the hem of your long dress and he's kissing down the valley of your breasts.

You've always thought that sex is meant to hurt.

But it is different with him together.

Every night when he returns and somehow chooses you each and every single time, you finally get to feel something in the empty shell that people call 'a heart'. It burns like gasoline in your chest when you feel it coming, but it is something that you find yourself longing for so feverishly on the nights he isn't visiting.

He asks for your legs to fall off his hips 一 to let yourself go and simply enjoy the moment with him 一 and he never hits you for pleasure like what you're used to being treated. He likes fucking in doggy, but always ends the night slow with missionary because it's what you're more comfortable with 一 based on your body language that he'd read through like an open book the first night with you.

He lets you cum as many times as you want, even going as far as making you use your big girl words to ask for it sometimes.

He gave you a voice 一 something that you've never got to have for yourself, and he lets you use it as much as you want with him. As loud as you want.

He never tugs on your hair or pulling your head back and forth whenever you have him in your mouth. It's degrading, and men tend to enjoy it a lot. But he doesn't do that very often, you notice 一 doesn't seem very into the whole blowjob or mouth-fucking thing despite the extreme pleasure he feels, and prefers having his dick inside of you and getting you both off with it.

You like that it's this way with him, that there is never any pain on your end. Guilty as charged, you treat it as an escape sometimes, even though you know damn well that you shouldn't be getting too close or intimate with a paying, returning customer.

Not to mention that he pays really well, too 一 always giving you way too much for your services, and never stealing photos or leaving behind his trash like the others always do either.

You come to learn fairly quickly that his first name is Rindou. Before this piece of information that he'd handed out to you way too early in your exchange, you've only known of him as Haitani-sama. Sometimes you'd call him Sir out of habit, but he prefers that less to Daddy. He fucking loves it, too, actually, and sometimes you'd resort to calling him just that for the whole night because you're not too sure on what else to say.

And sometimes he'd even request (or more like demand, considering that he's the fucking boss of the club you work for) to take you home with him a few nights, and when Freida-baba (all the girls in the club call her that) tries explaining that maybe it isn't such a good idea 一 since you do have returning customers who have booked the next few nights with you 一 he pushes up the bid with two extra zeros in his payment and watch as her eyeballs fall out of their sockets in amusement, but always with sternest, because Haitani Rindou is a man who always get what he wants.

And she'd agree every single time, because there is no way a woman like Freida would be able to reject so much money from selling just one girl and also saying no to her boss' wish.

The subtle things he does to you 一 for you and with you 一 makes your brain go haywire sometimes. And on some days, you seem to find yourself patiently, yet eagerly, waiting for his return to the club, just to be able to pleasure him again out of your own will.

Hanging around the lobby like a school girl waiting for Senpai to finish playing basketball at the court to pass him a love letter, and always finding chances to knock on Freida's door asking if Haitani-sama will be visiting anytime soon...

You can't help it.

ii.

"You know, brother," Ran places his glass on the table after taking a huge sip.

"That slut you've been seeing一"

"She has a name."

Rindou shoots back almost too fast. His brother widens his eyes a little at his words, but leans back into his seat, expression turning amused when he finds it a good motivation to keep going. He hasn't seen this sight since forever, where Rindou is being protective of a girl he's fond with.

"You've been obsessed with her lately." Ran comments. Rindou only swirls his own drink and watch with bored eyes as the ice melts from the heat, but with an impatient heart.

"She's not good news, you know."

Ran grabs his iPad from the side, scrolling through a few documents through the files app 一 the bright screen reflecting on his face 一 before pausing on one and handing the tablet over to Rindou.

"The girl's covered in debt, head to toe." He juts his chin to the screen as the younger reads through the file. His expression remains the same as before 一 still so nonchalant, still so boyish like a teenage boy who doesn't really care for what his mother says.

"She's only here for your money. Can't think of any other idea on why she's stuck to you like glue." He grins. "And that sweet little smile she's always throwing your way, damn. No wonder you're so obsessed."

It's more of the opposite, really 一 but he doesn't make a refutation to prove his brother wrong. He's stoic when he locks the screen after scanning through your background check, before throwing the device on the coffee table with a soft roll of his eyes, letting out a breath through his lips.

"I know."

Truth is, the man's already had his right-hand run your profile for him since the night you'd first met, after being so enamoured by you that he really wants to know everything about yourself 一 even the smallest details about you that you don't even realise. Rindou is already aware of how deep in crippling debt you are 一 a result of having a father with a deadly gambling addiction since you were just a baby and a mother who's addicted to heroine for the longest time ever 一 that no matter how much money you make in your lifetime selling your body and becoming entertainment for lustful men, it'll never be enough.

"But nii-chan," he pauses to look his brother in the eye. There's daggers in them despite him being family.

"She's my girl."

The grin on Ran's face only grows wider as he swipes away a fallen strand of hair breaking through the gel, after hours of being away from home.

"I'll do what I want with her."

He thinks it's fine if you're gonna break his heart and use him for his money. He has money. And at least he'll know that he'd felt good being with you during your time together 一 getting to dive back into a sweet little romance he hasn't felt in years is something that he thinks he's needed so feverishly this whole time.

"That's alright. But still, I'll have you know," Ran trails off his words to lean forward in his chair, elbows resting on his knees to look at his brother, face turning serious.

"Love is an expensive thing to afford for people like us."

iii.

He hasn't been visiting you lately.

It's already been three weeks since his last return to the club, and you've long lost count on how much time you've spent moping around the lobby, pretending like you're cleaning up and assisting them on welcoming clients, when in reality, you're simply waiting to see if it'd be him walking through the glass doors this time.

The first week he stopped coming, you've just assumed that it was simply because he was too busy and drowned with work. You know it isn't easy running a club that sells pussy and bags filled with drugs slid under glass tables on the daily 一 having to constantly worry about the feds and possible snitches in the organisation is not easy work that simply anyone can handle.

On the second week that he still doesn't visit 一 even to the other girls in the club 一 you start to grow impatient and worried that perhaps something terrible has happened to him, considering his line of work. But you still see his right-hand that he keeps close around the venue sometimes, and nothing in particular seems to be off about his boss' lack of appearance recently.

On the third week, which happens to be today, you've resorted to retreating into the hallways and dragging your feet when you walk 一 sometimes peeking into rooms to see if he is perhaps inside 一 hoping that he'll miraculously turn up again like he always do.

You so desperately hope that soon you'll finally get to see him walking through the main door, all suave and handsome, and then you'd get to jump into his arms while he holds you close and kisses you and一

"Haitani-sama, would you like another drink?"

Your feet pauses.

Your head turns, scouting for the source of the voice with shakey eyes and hands一

There he is.

Perfectly healthy and legs spread widely on the expensive sofa gripping a glass of whiskey, a side of his lips curled into a handsome smirk. He's surrounded by people 一 a few men and their women, and一

"Haitani-sama, thank you for choosing me tonight." Sakura-chan giggles so sweetly into his ear, all pressed into his side on the sofa like she means something to him, and he's looking at her in the way you've grown used to being admired at, too.

Something bubbles up in your chest as you watch the scene unfold before your glossy eyes 一 that Sakura gets to be by his side for the night, that he didn't come to see you as promised 一 and it's plainly uncomfortable, to say the least. You don't know what else to say. A sticky feeling you haven't experienced before glued onto the walls of your heart, a chain filled with thorns coiling around your poor, beating flesh, stabbing you as it tightens even more一

You turn around.

It's hard to force a smile when a girl passing through the halls greets you goodnight, but you still manage a weak one for her somehow before walking back to your room, eyes bored into space.

You're left with a silence so deafening and empty when you sit on your bed, palms scrunching up the soft material of your dress as you let out a long breath through your dry lips.

It breaks your heart the more you think about it 一 a feeling so suffocating that you don't know what to do to make it go away 一 as you keep replaying scenes of the nights he'd claim you to be his favourite girl when he'd fuck you so beautifully in his room, limbs all tangled up in the sheets.

A favourite one amongst the many, obviously.

Your eyes water and your heart tightens any more in its confines as you bite on your lip and feel your nose souring up一

Silly you, thinking that you actually mean something to these people.

You're just a replaceable toy.

iv. cw: light daddy kink

You're nose deep into your book on the couch when he finally comes to visit for the night.

"Did you miss me?" His voice is deep, teasing, and smuggled with alcohol when he speaks. His tie and belt are in his hands and a few of his buttons are left undone 一 and he leaves them on your bed when he walks over to you.

You're silent when Rindou stands before you seated on your chair and you shut your book with a harsh pang in your chest.

He smells so much of her that it irks you to the core. A rosey, floral perfume that only one person you know uses on the daily, now covering a man head to toe that you find yourself desperately unable to tear away from.

You hate feeling like this so much 一 so helpless and falling deep into a void 一 but you still push away the ache of your heart and showing him a smile so sweet that you hope he doesn't notice.

You still allow yourself a moment to indulge in his warmth when you melt in his arms as he holds you close. You still cheat yourself into thinking that he cares when he sucks on the spot just beneath your jaw that never fails to make you fold.

You still want to believe that you're different among the rest 一 that you still mean something to somebody, that you're not just a worthless toy that people get to play with when they're bored一

You want to believe that you're lovable, too.

You're just a girl who wants to be loved.

"Mhm." You hum into his neck as a reply.

His touch is electric on your hips when he moves you both to bed, while he lays you down so gently on the mattress with drunk but gentle hands.

You help to remove his suit when he hovers above you and you only reach your neck up to peck him gently on the lips when you're finished.

He's obviously very drunk tonight when you hear the low hum full of want that he lets out when you cheekily move away from his attacking lips, and there's a lot of kisses exchanged between you two when he catches you after that 一 from forehead kisses that shows how much he adores you to sweet little eskimo kisses that feels way too intimate for a relationship like yours, to sucking on each other's tongue as you slowly tangle yourselves together under the blanket.

You feel so, so comfortable wrapped in his arms while he tickles your neck with his nose. It's so warm in here compared to the frigid feeling in your heart when watching the two of them all cuddled up together on the couch一

There it is.

It's clouding your head again.

Your smile wavers a little against his skin and it's harder to act like nothing's ever happened before.

It's hard being pressed under his weight as he sobers himself up by indulging in your kisses, while in reality your mind is constantly flying back and forth between letting things be and swallowing your own heart to excusing yourself for the night to go cry in the toilet一

"Something's bothering you."

You twitch a little at that. Rindou is already staring at you with his eyes half-lidded when your own flicker swiftly back to his figure resting on your chest.

"Hmm? Nothing is wrong, Sir." Your voice is extremely soft tonight, he notices.

And for some reason your response rubs him the wrong way. He clicks his tongue, a bit unsatisfied, and moves himself off your chest to rest on the pillow next to you.

But he still pulls you next to him nonetheless 一 clement hands combing through your locks with his five fingers so sweetly as he admires your pretty face.

"What's wrong?" He pushes you even closer to himself with the hand looped under your neck. "Tell me."

A thumb of his own finds its way rubbing on your bottom lip and you feel so mushy when he looks at you that way again, though you still remain silent at that.

"C'mon, tell me,"

He hands you your voice again with a wide open palm.

"My pretty girl."

And you take it with you.

You embrace it this time.

"I saw you with Sakura-chan earlier."

He sighs through his nose before nuzzling at your cheek, a teasing smile on his lips. "That's what this is about?"

He shifts you both a little when you don't respond, choosing to bury yourself into his neck and sulk. He doesn't force you to look at him, though. Still so sweet when he coos and comforts you by rubbing on your back.

"I didn't fuck her, you know. I was only with her for a couple hours."

You smile. "It's okay, you don't have to explain to me, Sir. I was simply waiting for you to visit again. I was worried, but you're okay."

Rindou doesn't like that this is your response to him when you've just hung your obvious jealousy out for him to see. His chest pangs with something unexplainable when you pat on his back instead when in fact, you're the one who's feeling hurt.

"I didn't fuck her." He affirms again, a little stricter but full of sincerity this time. "Why do you think I didn't call you out with me today?"

You shake your head, biting on the inner corners your cheeks as you listen.

"People don't go around flaunting their treasures, no? At least not rational ones," he pauses to nibble at the fat of your cheek, beckoning you to please look at him again一 "that's just asking to be robbed."

"I was with business partners and I don't want them to know you're mine. That's dangerous."

You don't know what's so dangerous about being known as Haitani Rindou's favourite girl, because you want to be known. You want to be shown off, too. You want to be flaunted around proudly, like you're not just some man's dirty little secret that he'll bring to the grave.

But you're sure he has his own reasons for that.

You slowly remove your face from his neck to sniffle.

"And I still came tonight, yeah?" He rubs on your lids, playing with your lashes gently as you nod.

"'Cause I wanted to see you, pretty."

When Rindou spots the light gloss over your eyes and you cutesy lips turn pouty and you're looking at him like he'd just broken your heart into pieces一

He folds.

"I'm sorry, baby."

It's a first, he thinks to himself 一 that he's apologising for being with another girl to the girl he still doesn't know what exactly she is to him, other than the fact that he likes having her around a lot.

"No more of that, yeah?" He cups your cheeks with his hands as he hovers over your face, thumbs caressing your skin as you start tearing up, sniffling.

"Daddy's all yours."

He leans in to smooch on your lips.

"It'll only ever be you by my side today onwards."

A hand of his grabs onto your wobbly ones to place it right where his heart resides, feeling it beat beneath your palm through the layer of his shirt. It's erratic 一 full of panic and heartache the minute your waterworks start, because he hates seeing you cry, especially when it is because of him.

And then he pulls your hand back up to his lips to kiss on your fingers, his purple orbs not once breaking contact with your own, as you whimper and reach yoir arms oit to pull him into your chest, swallowing him into your soul.

Yours and yours only.

Rindou smiles.

How is a girl like you ever going to break his heart?

Stupid Ran.

this 2 love bug's trope summarised: love at first sight but with juicy lore 🔇 this is so poorly written but i dont wanna keep it in my drafts any longer since the year is ending and i really want to post something

[minniesfiles]

{WONWOO} FIC RECOMMENDATIONS

ᯓ★ VOL. 1

(note; each volume has 15 fic recs)

[a] — angst│[f] — fluff │[s] — smut

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❖ in front of me — by @wonustars

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❖ blind — by @wtf-taeyong

? [a]

❖ ten questions — by @chocosvt

wonwoo isn’t at home as often as he used to be. you know he doesn’t exactly have a regular job, but you still can’t help this feeling of isolation. the less you see him, the more questions you have, which provokes one question above all - does he even have the time for you anymore? | 4.3k [a, f]

❖ a moon without stars — by @chocosvt

you work as a part time florist whilst jeon wonwoo balances his time between being a body piercer and helping out at his uncle’s garage. the two of you are thrust together in an awkward meet up when you get your first piercing. wonwoo thinks you’re kinda odd, but he knows he isn’t much different, and little by little he becomes infatuated with how you can make watering hibiscus flowers sound so interesting. | 18k [f, a, s]

❖ wonwoo: the protector — by @gamerwoo

If there’s one thing Wonwoo hates, it’s feeling helpless; like there’s nothing he can do to stop somebody he loves from getting hurt. It’s happened to him once before, and he swears it’ll never happen again. Especially not after he meets you. | series [f, a, s]

❖ pomegranate — by @idyllic-ghost

You, a princess from a doomed kingdom, have been arranged to be married to an heir of a much more prosperous kingdom. However, when you first visit them, you realize that you would much rather be with the heir's younger brother. | 13.8k [a, s]

❖ sweet chaos — by @viastro

you and wonwoo are the best assassins in south korea. however, underneath it all, the two of you fell in love. what will you do when you're hired to kill him? | 3.4k [a, f]

❖ take a chance with me — by @saythenametotheworld

You could not believe that no one ever told you how frustrating (and beautiful) it was to be hopelessly captivated by a boy who thinks love is overrated. | 25k [f, s, a]

❖ boys and their toys — by @babyleostuff

Fighting with you has to be one of wonwoo's biggest nightmares, so when you reset his game - will that be enough for him to finally lose his temper? | 1.9k [f, a]

❖ grease — by @gyuswhore

In which you have to sit through one of the worst dates of your life, followed by the insistent tug of fate and compulsion that lead you straight back to where you'd sworn you'd never go. | 5.8k [f, s]

❖ the story of us — by @gyuswhore

So many walls that you can't break through; except you do. | 2.1k [a, f]

[softidiotsposts]

All American

surprise, surprise...

{Hope you all enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Another post coming on the weekend :) Warnings: fluffy fluff, long distance relationship, American!reader// word count: 2.1k}

masterlist

You meet Alexia Putellas when she wins her first Ballon D'or, you were invited since you made top three- and you watch as Alexia wins and you come in second place. She's beautiful and before that moment you had never seen her in person, only over clips and videos that you thought didn't do her enough justice.

She's very beautiful and while it hurts to come in second place, you know that Alexia fully deserves the award- you've seen her stats, watched the game highlights to know that Alexia is a kind of talent that comes around once a decade... maybe even once two decades.

But... The fact that she's ridiculously attractive and makes your heart beat slightly faster also helps get over that fact that you'd come in second place in football's most prestigious award.

You officially meet the Ballon D'or winner when the after party is held- it's nothing crazy, just an opportunity for photographers to snap more pictures of a bunch of football players outside of the confines of their club attire. Also, a method of keeping you all occupied while the engravings and such happen.

You mostly just stand to the side, holding a water since you don't really drink and also because your FIFA best eleven has been taken away by someone for engraving.

You're not the biggest fan of social events and you don't count matches as social events... so the only time you really leave your house to socialize is at these events.

Only because your agent says it would be a bad look not to show up and maybe because your just as much of a football nerd as the next person, so seeing all these great players- even though you're also considered great- is kind of cool.

You notice your glass is empty and are about to get a refill of water when you bump into someone that you hadn't realized was in front of you.

It's Alexia fucking Putellas.

That was the person who you'd practically crashed into and you thank your lucky stars that neither of you are carrying any drinks because Alexia's dress looks rather expensive- too expensive.

And because she's Alexia, the greatest player on the planet at that moment and you'd look like an utter fool.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" You yelp out awkwardly because this is Alexia Putellas-

Football superstar with the most impressive season you've seen to date and even though you're the same age, she seems like a thousand years away from you.

"It's okay, accident, no?" She chuckles at your panicked reaction.

You nod desperately, trying to convince yourself that everything is okay more than you are agreeing with Alexia.

It all feels quite surreal- you've followed Alexia's career closely ever since she made waves at Barcelona even though you play in the NWSL, a closed league that is an ocean away from her.

"You are Y/N?"

Alexia's question snaps you out of your short daydream- she's asking about you and you resist acting shocked even though you are. Alexia is asking about you, sure you'd been nominated but it had been a fluke- 100% a fluke.

"Err.. yeah, Y/N, that's me... haha.." You trail off, laughing awkwardly and you suddenly want a hole to appear in the ground so you may jump in it.

Alexia appears to be more amused by antics than you are because a moment later she's got her head thrown back in a laugh then her hand comes to rest on your blazer clad shoulder. The touch spreads an unbelievable heat across you and you resist the urge to go red somehow.

"You are very funny, you know?"

You have no clue where Alexia gets the idea from because all you've done is act like a clown in front of her- awkwardly sputtering out random words that don't fit together at all in hopes of diffusing a situation you've taken too far already.

You giggle uncharacteristically, "Thank you... and you're very very pretty and talented..."

You said it before you can stop yourself then you realize what you've just said- your eyes bug out and a hand slaps over your mouth as though you're a child that has just swore in front of their parents.

You have no clue why you said that- it was the truth- but there was no need to vocalize it.

You glance at the cup in your hand and wonder whether the bartender misheard you when you asked for water- your accent isn't that bad... at least to other Americans but you can see non-English people struggling to understand a New York accent.

"God- I'm really sorry- I... I shouldn't have sa-"

Alexia blushes, "No, no... If it matters- I think you're pretty hot."

That's how it all starts, you accidently admitting your very obvious crush on Alexia mere hours after losing out on the Ballon D'or to her and Alexia kind of reciprocating it.

It spirals from then on, you return to the States and Alexia goes back to Spain but you call practically everyday- spend hours on the phone when you should be asleep, it often makes you end up with the lowest sleep score in the squad- something your coach questions regularly and something that you have to play off. 

You visit Alexia as well- any time you can- take planes back and forth even if it's just for a long weekend but it's worth the small fortune you spend on plane tickets because you and her just... click.

Kind of like the romcoms you see on TV, the ones where they know each other for a week before being completely in love- or have some odd meet cute that turns into a whirlwind romance overnight.

To be completely honest, you have probably loved Alexia the second she beat you in the rankings- she was everything; talented, smart, dedicated, insanely hot... and you were head over heels the second she walked up the steps.

Not that you would tell her because her ego is big enough as it is.

That's probably part of why you accept Barcelona's offer without much consideration- the money is sound but that's the least of your worries. Barcelona is a strong team, multiple time Champions League winners and a squad built on talent that you see once a lifetime.

It's kind of insane that they want you- that they pay for a release clause, want you to sign a three year contract for a sum that is double your current one and will give you a place in the lineups, regularly.

So you don't do much thinking and sign because if that wasn't enough then Alexia playing for Barcelona was.

"Hey baby, gonna be on the plane soon, 'kay?"

You balance your phone to your ear, using your shoulder to keep it in place as you hold your passport, visa, suitcase and backpack in both hands.

"Are you sure you don't want me to pick you up?" Alexia's voice sounds a little worried and that's become a norm for when you're flying across the ocean for her.

You tut, "Don't you have training then?"

You know Alexia does since you have her schedule memorized so you can plan phone calls but ask anyway- just out to drive your point home since Alexia can sometimes worry so much about the safest things.

You’ve had to remind her that driving is more dangerous than flying- multiple times. 

"Yes but I'm sure that-"

"No, you're staying at training."

Your voice is final and it sounds serious like when the two of you argue about anything or in situations like this one- one's where you need to convince Alexia to do something.

"Okay... but call when you land?"

You smile at Alexia's soft voice as you sit in front of your terminal and fiddle with your ticket.

"I'll text- you'll still be in training."

You hear a rebuttal almost immediately, "I'll have my phone."

You sigh loudly so Alexia can hear it through the speaker, "Baby, nothing is going to happen and don't take your phone- You know it broke last time because someone kicked a ball at it by accident last time."

"Vale, no phone but text me, okay?"

You chuckle and nod even though she can't see you, "Of course I will."

"I love you, Ale."

"Te amo, cariño."

With that being the end of your conversation you hang up and stand in line when boarding begins, thinking only of Alexia and hot Spain.

The plane ride is mostly smooth with the exception being that your headphones run out of battery half way through the flight and you're forced to wait for them to charge- during that time, you get to listen to the symphony that is passenger announcements, children yelling and your ears popping.

When you finally land in sunny Barcelona you let out a relieved sigh, finally you're back on the ground and out of the crowded airplane. The first thing you do of course is text Alexia- it's brief, just letting her know that you've landed and will see her soon.

Then you get an overpriced taxi but not to Alexia's apartment instead the Barcelona training ground- you smirk to yourself, your transfer had thankfully not been leaked... Sure, there were the occasional rumors but most of them signaled that you'd been going to one of the Manchesters or maybe Lyon.

Yet here you were, in front of the Barcelona offices and training grounds- ready to get your pictures taken and surprise Alexia. You actually have no clue how you kept this hidden from her for so long, she'd been asking about the rumors and you'd shoot her down every time, it's easy to do on the phone when she can’t really tell what you’re thinking by a single look.

"Y/N?"

You turn to spot a small group of Barcelona staff with bright smiles, you happily walk up to them- dragging your suitcase and everything else.

"Hi, nice to meet you."

You let go of your backpack and reach out to shake their hands. You're then escorted to one of the photography rooms, where they hand you a Barcelona shirt with your name and number for you to put on.

They direct you in a couple of poses that require bright and happy smiles- the kind you're more than willing to give.

After a dozen photos, you're handed a bunch of free things- training gear with the club logo, travel kit and many more things in a neat bag.

"Would you mind if I watched the training?" You ask with a light smile.

They nod and allow you to leave your stuff in the changing rooms- then you walk out into the sun and regret not wearing some kind of shorts instead of jeans and the fact that you’re not wearing sunglasses.

The session looks to be ending, with the players gathered in a circle in the middle of the pitch, clearly discussing something- you smirk and walk as quietly as you can towards them.

You take your place behind Alexia and she's so focused on the discussion that's taking place in rapid Spanish that she doesn't notice you. Not until you rest your hands on her waist and say,

"Mind translating for me, baby?"

Alexia whips around and you're brought into a bone crushing hug. It feels like coming home in the best way possible- like a warm drink on a cold evening to warm you right up. Alexia’s always felt like that and you’d have it no other way. 

Your arms are wrapped around her waist tightly while hers crush your shoulders as she keeps you impossibly close. You can tell she's crying from the wet patch forming on your t-shirt and the fact that her breathing has turned irregular.

You pull away slightly and see that her eyes are red with tears, you chuckle and wipe them away.

"What are you doing here?"

"Well... I said I was visiting right?" You raise a brow.

Alexia gives you a look, "You know that's not what I mean."

You roll your eyes and then grin widely, "Well... How would you feel if we played together? I promise you'll get loads of assis-"

"You signed... here?" She cuts you off.

"Well, yeah, where else would I go? Is this not the best club in Eur-"

This time Alexia presses her lips to yours in a sweet kiss that tastes like salty tears and utter happiness. Both of you ignore the stares from the team- you've met them a few times at different events so they should know who you are... unless they've forgotten of course.

So just to be safe when Alexia let's you go, you introduce yourself,

"Hey, I'm Y/N, the new striker."

It's after a season with Barcelona that you win the Ballon D'or- this time it's you on stage, awkwardly receiving the award with a smile but you think that the way Alexia looks- perfect and wonderfully gorgeous, trumps the award- 100% it does. 

[endless-ineffabilities]

backhand stroke (18+)

tennis coach!Aemond x tennis player!reader

Rivals on and off the court, things come to a head between the two when Aemond crosses the line and sabotages the reader's relationship.

themes : challengers inspired, Art Donaldson is featured <3, a lot of cussing, smut!!! (minors dn fckin i), the reader and Aemond hate each other (but if they hate each other why are they fcking), reader may or may not be a cheating bastard, Aemond has a glass eye + he calls the reader ace

a/n : initially I was about to write a fic where Aemond and the reader are actual rivals themselves, but quickly remembered how tennis works 💀 so in this one, Aemond is a coach and reader is a player 🎾

word count : 8k ▪︎ masterlist

The Westeros Open is the biggest and most prestigious tennis tournament in the country. 

Anyone who wants to be someone in the sport aims to qualify for it. 

For you, it is everything. You have devoted your entire life to tennis. It started as something that stemmed from your parents' neglect. Rich folks who signed their young daughter up for extensive tennis lessons just so they can be free of her and galivant off to wherever. 

You had sat there, staring at your shiny, brand-new white tennis shoes. Holding your unused top-of-the-line racket. Hair kept away from your face with a headband that still smelled like the store. 

Mostly left alone by your family, you gathered your strength, and dragged your weak eight-year-old legs across the tennis court day in and day out. 

Through the years, you found yourself. You found home, and you gave everything you had to make sure you would never lose it.

As luck would have it, you found romance along the way in Art Donaldson, who became your coach after your previous one decided to quit. He used to be a player, until he fell out of love with the game, and chose to coach up and coming players instead. 

You had been wary of getting involved with him, but eventually you couldn’t resist. He turned out to be the perfect boyfriend - caring, sweet, attentive to your every need. He became your partner in both tennis and in life. Truly, you couldn’t want for anything else.

You shouldn’t. 

So why does it feel like there is something missing?

And why is that void one that only Aemond Targaryen can fill?

The gigantic poster propped up in the inner courtyard of the country club lets everyone know that your next qualifying match in the Westeros Open is against none other than Helaena Targaryen. 

Your image looms up to around twenty feet, with Helaena’s lithe figure on the other side. The perfectionist in you can’t help but scrutinise the details in your expression and your form. Was that really what you looked like mid-serve? You laugh dryly, feeling silly at your misdirected concern.

You like Helaena, and she’s always been cordial to you outside of your matches. The issue lies with her more brash and calculating brother and coach. 

Something - or rather someone - shuffles behind you. Close enough that the hairs on the back of your neck stand on attention. 

"I wish I could say that you look good up there, but we did once promise not to lie to each other.”

Think of the devil and he shall appear. You don't have to turn around to know who it is. 

Aemond fucking Targaryen. Once at his prime, known for his freely expressing his passion and rage on the court, earning him the title 'the bad boy of tennis'. It was this drive, this relentlessness, that propelled his game. Unfortunately, it also served to be his downfall. After a few years as the sport's #1 male player, his career came to an end after an off-court altercation with an opponent that took his eye.

Now he is the coach of one of your top rivals and upcoming match opponent, his sister Helaena. 

Which is why it should come as no surprise to you that he has made it his mission to get under your skin, with all his unwarranted flirty remarks, constant staring, and how he tirelessly interacts with everything you post on social media. 

It used to be tame, by his standards anyway, with things like, ‘You need to work on that backhand’ or ‘I’m guessing Donaldson doesn’t train you well enough.’

But then the messages took a different turn. You once posted a picture of you in a fancy, revealing gown when you attended the annual gala, and he responded with, ‘It’s easy to see that all your training has paid off, ace.’

You chocked it all up to playful aggression. He’s just trying to get you to lower your guard, and distract you. You knew better than to look too much into the apparent interest he gives you. 

He is notorious for being a playboy, after all. Dirty blonde hair perfectly tousled, designer tracksuits he wears with such snobbishness, a presence that can command an entire room. You’ve grown to heavily dislike the seemingly permanent smug sneer on his lips, and how he sometimes treats others like they’re nothing but gum stuck on the soles of his fancy tennis shoes.

A handsome rogue who possesses a lot of talent and who is aware of his status as a hot commodity can be dangerous indeed. If he can say that Helaena Targaryen’s best opponent is nothing but another notch on his bedpost, then he will never let that live down. 

More importantly, you are already spoken for. Aemond knows this - not that he cares - but whatever he thinks about your relationship doesn’t matter. 

“Aemond.” You don’t turn to face him, continuing to scrutinise the gigantic poster. “Is that the best you got?”

He shrugs, positioning himself right in your line of sight, clearly demanding more attention. “You don’t just look good. You look good enough to fucking eat, ace. Too bad about the shitty attitude.”

Hot then cold, nice then nasty. Aemond will never change. Rolling your eyes, you say, “I thought I told you not to call me that. Shouldn’t you be somewhere else training your sister? She’s gonna need it.”

He steps closer, invading your space. You look him directly in the eye like you’re squaring up with an opponent. This has always been your dynamic. Neither one backing down, neither one ever really dealing a blow. 

Just constant dizzying electricity. 

Sooner or later, it will all come to a head. Whether it will be your fault or his, the jury is still out on that. 

“Oh, I’m sure she will,” he patronises, his deep blue almost violet eye sparkling. On the opposite was his glass eye, only adding to his intimidating nature. He hadn’t opted for one that resembled his real eye, but rather a hazy white apparatus, making him appear ghoulish, almost ghostlike. Nestled in his left eye socket, framed by a faded maroon gash, it made him look every bit like the charismatic rogue of tennis that he is known to be. “Shouldn’t you be somewhere receiving instruction from Donaldson? Not that you’ll get much out of it.”

“Art and I are on top of our training, not that it’s any of your damn business. You should concern yourself with your sister’s game.” 

“If only that were actually true, ace, but unfortunately I believe that your sweet Art wastes too much of his fucking time being on top of you.”

“Fuck off, Targaryen,” you respond, trying to push the allure of his scent out of your mind. Pungent cologne and cigarette smoke, a blend that you’ve come to associate only with him. “Stay out of my business, and quit messaging me.”

“You like how we talk.”

“Trust me, I don’t.”

“Does Donaldson know?” Fully aware that Art has never had a liking for him, he knows that will hit a nerve. 

Your face falls, like you’ve been caught in the act. Even though you've done nothing wrong. Occasionally caving in and responding to Aemond’s messages surely isn’t crossing the line. What started out as a couple of offhand fuck offs from your end turned into actually sharing private jokes about the other matches and training and - heavens forbid - small talk about the goddamn weather. 

You’ve come to know that his favourite colour is green. Not the neon of a tennis ball, but a bluish-tinted pine. 

Not that it matters. 

Encounters such as this one also don’t mean anything. Never mind however much you find him attractive. Who wouldn’t? You have eyes, and you’re only human. Nothing more to it. 

Never mind how, some nights, in what can only be construed as momentary states of delirium, you have imagined him in Art’s place. 

Never mind just how much he gets under your skin, like no one else can, and how you can’t admit to yourself that you might actually like it.

Oh, you might actually be making yourself sick at all these thoughts. 

“There’s nothing for him to know.” You step to the side, indicating that you want to walk away. But he has you cornered and you both know it. 

He smirks, “Keep telling yourself that, ace. But you can’t deny - ” He steps close again. He suddenly tilts your face toward him with one hand, but you shake your head and his fingers lose their hold. “ - this. Us.”

Damn him. And damn the shiver that just ran up your spine. 

You stand still, entranced by the look he’s giving you. Trick or not, Aemond sure does have a way of looking at you as if he sees you for who you really are. Not the tennis prodigy. Not the public personality. You remain a shell of that broken kid that poured everything she had into this sport, much like he had, only to come out the other end still not whole, still searching for something inexplicably out of reach. And he sees just that - just you.

You feel like Art holds you up on a pedestal, not seeing the flaws that make you who you are. But you’ve always been happy to play the perfect girlfriend. 

Until Aemond. 

But he’s too much. Too forward, too brash, too intoxicating. You can never know what he’s going to do next. You can’t like him. You have to be certain that you don’t.

But then again… love and hate have always been two sides of the same coin.

He whispers, clearly pleased with the effect he has on you, “Match point, ace.”

Match point. You could have him. He could have you. He makes it evident that the next move is all yours. “Don’t go out of bounds, Targaryen,” you warn him lowly. 

“What if I want to?”

You have him. He has you.

And you… have Art. 

Clearing your throat, and your head, you finally step back. His head snaps up to follow you, disappointment evident on his face. 

“See you around, Targaryen.” You spin on your heel, walking away, immediately feeling lighter. Emptier, feeling like your body begs to drift closer to him, two equal magnets. 

“Ace,” he calls to you, walking after you when you don’t turn around. “Wait a second,” he reappears right in front of you, effectively halting your stride.

You grumble hastily, “God, you really have a space issue, don’t you, Aemond?”

“Meet me in the courtyard gardens,” he says, a new intensity lacing his voice, “tonight. After dinner. Or whenever you can. Just - ”

“No.”

“Come on, ace.” His tone is insistent, with no trace of his usual bravado and cockiness. “I think… I need to tell you something.”

Part of you wants to cave in, and just agree to whatever it is that he’s proposing, but that nagging voice in the back of your mind is adamant that it would not be right. What would Art think? But what if Aemond truly just wants to tell you something?

“So tell me now.”

His jaw clenches hard, and you can’t help but admire the taut edges of his face. “No, I want to do this, just you and me. When we’ll be alone - ”

“Aemond - ” you start to shake your head, trying hard to come up with a refusal that he will actually register. 

“Donaldson doesn’t need to know,” he almost pleads. “This is between you and me, ace. You just have to hear me out.”

You take a deep breath, unable to understand just what it is he means. “If it’s something I have to hide from my boyfriend, then it’s not gonna happen. You have to see just how messed up that is, Targaryen.”

Either he can’t hear you, or he just does not want to accept your response. “I’ll wait for you. Right around midnight then, ace? Should give you plenty of time to sneak out.”

Before you can say no, again, he hastily plants a kiss on your cheek. Your eyes flutter shut at the sensation, in surprise and perhaps pleasure at the softness of his lips, and when you open them once more, he is no longer flooding your space. 

You spy him entering a set of glass doors, leaving you there stunned.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

Aemond kicks at another pebble, the sound momentarily breaking the silence in the gardens.

He’d checked his watch just seconds before, the face of it spitting on what remains of his eagerness. 

Twelve fucking fifteen. 

Either you just got held up by your whiney rat-faced boyfriend, or you’re a no-show.

Aemond doesn’t know which one is worse. He did not know what he was expecting in the first place. Did he actually think that you would do as he says? You never were good at following orders, much less those from someone whom you likely view as something of a nuisance.

Is that really what you see him as? Isn’t there something more at play here?

Something that keeps Aemond up at night, when he can no longer deny that it is not because he dislikes you that you plague his thoughts, but because he admires you. He does admire you, he sees no shame in admitting that. 

As a tennis player. As a competitor. Anyone who feigns ignorance at your insane potential would just be lying to themselves. 

As a woman? A… partner? No. It has to be no, doesn’t it? You hate him, you make it clear now and again. You disagree with him, challenge his views, point out his flaws. Surely, he can’t be attracted to you in a way that commands his heart. You are beautiful, he doesn’t deny this, but so were the dozens of other girls he had run through. 

Each time he watches you perform your signature backhand stroke, with that sensual growl escaping your lips and the lewd grace with which your body bends, Aemond feels his sanity slipping away.

You drive him crazy, but he can't be crazy about you. 

The only reason he asked you to meet him, is because he wants to propose that he replace Art as your coach. Helaena has expressed that she wants to retire, and focus on some other creative pursuits. Something insignificant to Aemond, that he can’t remember what it was exactly. A pottery business? A fucking flower shop? He doesn’t care to know. 

It’s perfect, he thinks, because your game is superior anyway. It’s what first got his attention, and now he can take part in your process. He can direct you, shape you. He can do so much better than Art Donaldson, and he’s sure you know this too. 

Maybe then you might actually open up to him the way you opened up to Art. With your absence tonight, it dawns on him that he might actually have to resort to other measures. Did he seriously think he would be able to simply reason with you about this? 

He sits for another half-hour on a bench nestled among the rose bushes. Surrounded by flowers of deep scarlet, a maroon he distinctly remembers as being your favourite colour. He fools himself into believing that he’s using the time to craft a plan for what’s to come, and not that he’s wasting it on the hope that you might emerge from the tall hedges, out of breath and eyes glinting eager to find him. 

Well, you played your hand. Now he knows what he has to do.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

You wake up groggy the following morning, having tossed and turned the entire night, thinking about Aemond.

Had he been out there, waiting for you? Your mind came up with the different possibilities of what he has to say. Or if he had nothing to say at all, and it was all just another ruse. 

You told yourself that you didn’t want to meet up with him, but you had an alibi prepared. One of your old tennis club mates agreed to cover for you and say that you were having drinks together, just in case Art ever checks up. 

But as you were about to deliver the excuse, Art had said something about you and him not getting to spend as much quality time anymore. The past few weeks have been occupied with nothing but tennis, and though it’s a shared activity that you both value, he wanted to stay in for the night with you. He ordered room service, downloaded two films that were on your watchlist, and whispered sweet nothings in your ear until you eventually gave up on meeting Aemond. 

It can wait, whatever it is. 

Besides, isn’t this the right thing to do? Did you seriously consider having a midnight rendezvous with the guy who you claim to dislike the most? Someone who encourages you to keep secrets from your boyfriend? What good could possibly come out of that?

With a heaving sigh, you push all thoughts of last night from your mind. There are bigger things at hand. The biggest tennis tournament of the year, for one. 

You make your way to the dining hall of your hotel. Art had woken up before you, pressing a loving kiss to your cheek and explaining how he had to discuss some matters with your physical team. He wore the skin of a tennis coach as perfectly as that of a boyfriend. 

And here you are, regretting that you were unable to meet up with another man the previous night.

The art deco layout of the lobby extends into the spacious dining hall, the interior of the hotel filled with geometric patterns and rich jewel tones. You once bid Aemond guess what your favourite interior design was, and he got it in two tries, complete with a spiel of how it reflects your personality. Art, on the other hand, had been adamant that your favourite was minimalist. That was the first time you realised that his perspective of you was different from Aemond’s. 

You hadn’t yet reconciled with who is more accurate, lest it shine a light on something deeper. 

The hostess is cheerful and full of pep as she leads you to your table. You know it’s coming - she’ll ask you for a picture in just a moment, and you’re proven right when she reaches in her pocket and her phone materialises inch by inch. She seems shy to ask, ready to turn on her heel with a stiff smile if you refuse, so you do your best to be encouraging.

When the photo is taken and she finally lowers her phone, you spy someone out in the distance and you make it out to be none other than your boyfriend. Leaning by the outdoor terrace, appearing to be speaking to another person you can’t yet make out, their face obscured by the decorative shrubbery scattered across the area. 

You walk to the side to get a better view of who it is. That tall figure, clad in a black tracksuit… a familiar head of blonde hair… and the unmistakable cut of his jawline. Realisation sets in. Art is speaking to Aemond. 

Your stomach sinks, the thought of breakfast no longer enticing. Frozen in the middle of the dining hall, you begin to attract the attention of others. 

Aemond turns his head, perfectly timed for his gaze to meet yours. Like something out of a grim movie, your anxiety spikes as his smug smirk materialises in slow motion. 

If there ever were a match at hand between you two, that smirk makes it clear that he has won it. 

Art follows his gaze, also meeting yours, but without any trace of satisfaction. He looks at you accusingly. You shake your head at him, but you already know. 

This is not going to end well. 

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

“Is it true?”

You had wordlessly followed Art back to your hotel suite, the air around you thick with dread and anticipation.

“What did Aemond say?” You stand in front of him as he calmly sits by the window, as if you’re on the trial stand. You just might be.

“Guess,” Art spits mockingly. “Why don’t you tell me? You seem to know him quite well.” You bristle at his tone. He’s never spoken to you like this before. 

“Whatever he told you, it’s not what it looks like, okay? You know Aemond. He likes to mess around with people, especially us.”

Art shakes his head in disbelief, “He even showed me some of your messages. Some of them you must have sent - what, at 3 or 4 in the fucking morning? When you’re lying next to me in bed? Not getting a lot of sleep apparently. It must be why you’re not on top of your game.”

He’s not playing fair, and you deserve this. 

“There’s nothing going on between us,” you say through gritted teeth, making the statement sound as firm as possible, because it’s not just Art you’re attempting to convince. You want to believe it too. 

“He’s said some things about me.”

“And I defended you.”

“Not well enough,” he shakes his head. “It sounded almost normal for you. Spewing bullshit to each other.”

“It’s just… it’s all just banter.” God, you sound so terrible. “Riling each other up to get into the mindset before matches.”

“All that… all that, I can kind of understand. It’s the other things. The intimate things that get on my nerves.”

“What - ” You can’t form the proper response to that. 

“I missed talking to you, he once said. To which you replied that you do too.”

“That’s nothing.”

“You said that he inspired you.”

“That’s… that… he’s a great talent,” you stammer, as the statements he throws worsen. “He always has been. Even you can’t deny that.”

The argument goes on for an uncomfortable length of time, with Art reminding you of things that you and Aemond had apparently messaged each other, and you trying to play them off as insignificant. 

Gradually, you convince Art that Aemond is just a thorn in your side. That Aemond was just overplaying the messages to get under his skin. That letting this break your relationship would be giving Aemond what he wants. 

But everything he said - the messages he brought back to the surface, the encounters that were brought up - made you realise the depth of your involvement with Aemond. 

You are fooling yourself, just as much as you are fooling Art.

He finally stands, heading towards the door. “I’ve spoken to our physical team. Meet us at the gym in 15.”

“Art.”

He halts, but he doesn’t turn to face you. You’re worried about what you’ll see in his face if he does.

“Are we okay?” you ask.

He turns to the side, and you catch a glimpse of the man you love, his once blithe demeanour reduced to a brief, forced smile. He nods once, and you sag in relief. When he is finally out the door, you collapse onto the bed and press your knuckles to your eyes. 

You feel it all at once. 

Anger. Frustration. That fear of inevitability coming to fruition. This was bound to happen and a part of you knew it was coming.

Aemond screwed you over, and it’s high time you put an end to everything.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

The gardens. Midnight. 

The message had been sent. The last one you will ever send to Aemond Targaryen if things go as planned. 

You have it rehearsed and perfected in your mind - how you will give him a piece of your mind, how you will tell him off and tell him to fuck off for good. 

As long as you think of Art…  As long as you don’t lose yourself, then…

“You’re lucky I’m not standing you up, Ace. Not like what you did to me.” The bastard has appeared directly behind you, as per his custom, so close you can feel his breath on the nape of your neck. 

You immediately turn to face him, and he stands calmly in his signature black tracksuit, his lips curled in their usual manner. “I never agreed to meet you that night.”

His smile is derisive, the sight of it sharp and cruel under the moonlight. “I thought we had sort of a code of honour, you and I. That we’d never lie to each other. Never let the other person down.”

“Honour?” you say mockingly. “I call bullshit. Trying to ruin my relationship… is that part of it?”

He looks away, shaking his head at your accusation. “I only did what you don’t have the fucking guts to do. Your relationship with Donaldson was ruined the moment we…” He trails off, brows furrowing. His gaze meets yours, revealing the truth that sits underneath his mask of arrogance. One that only you are allowed to see. He appears to take on a different smile this time, softer and less pronounced. The curses you want to hurl get caught in your throat when he looks to your lips and hums faintly to himself, almost as if he’s forgotten that you are in the middle of an argument. 

You take a step back, and it shakes him out of his reverie. It shakes the both of you out of it. 

“Well? Let’s fucking hear it then.” You raise your arms in a gesture, egging him on. 

“Hear what?” he says, having the gall to be confused.

“What did you want to tell me that night? Tell me now, because you’ll never get the chance again.”

He straightens, getting his thoughts in order. He completely forgot about that issue, and talking is increasingly becoming the last thing he wants to do right now. He wants to put his lips to better use. Something more worthwhile. “Helaena’s retiring,” he finally decides on saying, “and I think I should be your coach.”

You’re dumbfounded for a moment, his proposition whirring in your head. It makes sense, it does. He just gets you. But then again… 

“That’s rich,” you reply. “Do you think I would ever give up Art? He’s always been my coach and he’s damn good at it.”

“You’re not compatible,” he counters, “in the court and out of it.”

“You don’t know that.”

“He doesn’t see you,” he affirms. He would never lie to you, and he isn’t about to start now. He repeats, “He doesn’t see you, but I do.”

His words strike true, and it feels as if he’s just pulled the rug from underneath you, and you’re falling, falling… 

Right into his arms. And the impact is jarring, because it’s real. 

“We can’t.” It comes out as a hoarse whisper, a reflection of your weakening restraint.

“Yes we can, ace.” He takes a step closer, and he lifts his hand as if on instinct, reaching for your face. But he’s frozen, unsure of how far he can toe the line that already lies fragile between you. “It should be you and me.”

Your eyes follow his movements, because you know you want him to give in and hold you. To touch your face. To kiss you.

And it’s wrong. It’s all wrong. 

“I have to go.” Your voice carries no emotion. You avert your gaze at the last second and catch the defeat that flashes across his face. It should come as a surprise that it pains you to see him like this, but then again, you see him as he sees you. You always have. Which renders your next words among the most painful to come out of your mouth. “We can’t do this anymore. Art already doesn’t trust me, and if this goes on, it’s only going to make things worse. I can’t talk to you - ” 

“No.” 

“- and I won’t be responding to anything- ”

“Stop fucking talking.” His anger is fledgling, rising to the surface. There is no way he will calmly accept these terms. “I said no, ace.”

“It’s… it’s the right thing to do,” you murmur, still unable to look at him. “I’m sure I’ll see you around. We run in the same circles. But we can’t be… us.”

“Forget it,” he seethes, trying to catch your eyes, and growling low when you don’t relent. “Forget him, ace. Or do whatever the fuck you want. But not this, I’m not having this.”

You exhale, having gotten the worst of it out of your chest. It’s over now. But it’s not a relief that you feel. It’s remorse. 

“Goodbye, Aemond.” With that, you finally take him in once more, and one glance is enough to shatter your resolve. His heightened ill temper shines clearly across his distinguished features. Under the midnight moon, he resembles a fallen angel, long dark blonde lashes casting shadows on his cheekbones. His shadowy, glass eye strangely adding to the appeal. 

Beautiful. And just not yours. 

One last, lingering look - then you walk away. The silence is deafening, and you feel numb all over. Your knuckles are taut at your sides, fingernails digging in your palms to keep those pesky, errant tears at bay. You’ve suffered defeat before, but this is much worse, because it’s coming solely from your own hand. How easily you give him up, someone who was never yours, and how badly it stings. 

“No,” you hear him say again, and you pray he shuts up so you can keep walking. 

He doesn’t. He repeats the word - no - over and over like some mantra under his breath. One second you feel nothing. Nothing at all. But then the wind whooshes around you and you’re being spun around to face him. 

And then, his lips claim yours, and you feel everything. 

Sounds come rushing back to you. His ragged panting against your lips, the pads of his fingertips kneading the back of your head, the wet smacking of his mouth on your own. The empty pit in your stomach is filled with those clichéd butterflies. More so when one of his hands travels down to grasp your waist and press your body against his. 

“Aem - ” Your mind catches up to you, and you try to say his name to get him to pause, but he slides his tongue past your teeth. 

“Shut up and kiss me, ace.” He breaks free for but a second, then hungrily kisses you again. You let him. You give in completely.

“Mmm, Aemond.” Your hands reach up to cradle his face and he takes that as an opportunity to pull back and openly admire you.

“You’re my ace,” he professes, connecting his forehead to yours. “And I’m not fucking losing you.”

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

You rush through the lobby of the hotel, hand in hand and giggling like schoolchildren as you duck your heads so as not to get recognised by the night concierge. 

With reckless abandon, your entwined bodies stumble into his suite, which just happens to be on the floor below yours. You once thought you would have to be inebriated beyond belief to surrender to a sin like this, and in a way you are. You’re high off of him - Aemond in his entirety, six feet of lean muscle, notorious foul-mouthed one-eyed libertine. 

“Fuck, ace.” He has his arms wrapped around you from behind, and he nips at your exposed neck. His touch roams and finds the mounds of your breasts, kneading mindlessly over your shirt. The sound that reverberates from his throat is carnal, and you feel it echo through your whole body. It drives you to press your ass against him, taking full notice of his hardness straining from his sweatpants. 

Feeling mischievous, you do it again, gripping his arms to anchor yourself while grinding against his cock. 

“Foul play,” he whispers against your neck, “you fucking minx.”

“There are no rules now.” You face him, running a finger along his jawline as you walk backward and he follows suit. Stopping at the edge of his bed, you strip out of your shirt, careful to keep your eyes locked on his the whole time. 

The movement is too slow for Aemond, and he desperately needs more. He pushes you onto the mattress and climbs on top of you. He slides your sweatpants off your legs, then lets his hand drag from your ankle to your inner thigh. He promptly undresses, graceless and in a rush, until all his clothes are left in a heap on the carpet. 

His cock stands on attention, taut and goddamn long. You feel an ache below that compels you to rub your legs together, but he beats you to it and slides your underwear right off. “I’ve always wanted to taste you,” he croons. “Bet you taste so sweet.”

You take your bra off and you’re finally left completely bare. He spreads your legs and positions himself in between. He uses one hand to squeeze your breast and the other to keep your legs propped wide open. 

His eye meets yours, before he settles in, lowering his head until he’s breathing cool air onto your pussy. “Match point, ace.” 

You have him. He has you. 

When Aemond’s tongue plunges deep into your throbbing core, swirling inside like he wants to consume you whole, you have to bite your tongue to hold back a scream.

He knows what he’s doing, of course he does, and he’s so fucking good.

“Yes - yes - keep going, baby, fuck -  ” you moan, words breathy and irregular. 

He sticks two fingers into your wetness, using it to spread you wider, leveraging his tongue ever deeper. In and out they go, faster than the fuck, fuck, fucks coming out of your mouth in blissful sputters. 

He suddenly stops, a guttural hmm echoing from his lips, and you look down to see his lips coated in a mixture of his spit and your pre cum. “Not so fast, ace,” he taunts. “You’ll come when I say.”

You prop yourself up on your elbows, still widespread and exposed to him. “What, are you coaching me through it?” 

He hums in affirmative and leans in to kiss you, juices still dripping from his chin. 

“You gonna follow my orders, ace?” he asks, and your mind spirals at how utterly lewd it sounds. 

“Wouldn’t you like that, Targaryen?” You let out another moan, biting your lip when he hungrily sucks on your breast. “Let’s see what you got first.”

He smiles at your playful instigation. It’s always come natural, this riffing back and forth. But this midnight dalliance - he wants it to be honest. He needs you to realise how much he wants you. 

“Yes, ma’am.” He gets on his knees, a hand braced on each of your thighs, his hardened cock at the ready. 

“Ma’am?” you breathe, a laugh dying in your throat when you his tip prods at your entrance.

“I can be agreeable under the right circumstances, ace.” He torments you by pushing his cock in but an inch. 

“Fuck me, Aemond,” you cuss in frustration, then, literally, “Fuck me. Please.”

His eyes take you in, one darkened blue and one ghostly pale glass. “Well, since you asked so nicely,” he says. “You good for it, ace?” He nods once, referring to whether a condom is needed and you take the hint right away.

“Yeah,” you confirm. “Perks of having a top-of-the-line physio team. They hook you up on other things too.” Your cocky-athlete way of stating that you are on the pill. 

The lights are dim in the room, but you clearly see the resolve settle on Aemond’s face. He parts his lips like he wants to say something more, and you tilt your head questioningly. 

He feels the need to make some sort of declaration. Something true. It doesn’t seem right to say those damned three words at this moment, no matter how much he means them. You could think he’s trying to trick you in order to get what he wants. A good lay and nothing else. So he doesn’t say anything and lets the silence speak for itself. If you know him as you claim to, then you’ll see. 

You’ll see just how much this means to him.

You nod, and it’s an unspoken plea. 

He thrusts his cock into you with such force, stretching your walls with a sudden and blinding ache, until he is buried to the hilt. He reaches and cradles your face with one hand, the other keeping your ankle propped by his shoulder. 

“Move, Aem.” You buck your hips against him, his cock squelching in and out again.

“Yeah, baby?” He complies with his hips in response. “That feel good?”

“Yes. God yes.”

A switch flicks inside of him, and he almost snarls through his teeth. “You feel so fucking good, ace. Your pussy takin’ me so well…” His hips buck faster, in abrupt snapping motions, burying his cock each damn time. He connects your legs together and turns you to your side, altering the position slightly. 

You look behind your shoulder and see that feral look etched on his face. His grip is tight on the flesh of your hips and the curve of your ass, having it raised slightly for his convenience. He smacks your behind with an open palm, and it elicits a lusty moan out of you. 

“Fuck, baby,” he rasps. “So beautiful like this, dripping around my fucking cock, huh? My good girl.”

The noises you release as a result are unintelligible. You press your face against the pillow in sheer pleasure, muffling your sounds. 

“I wanna hear you, baby,” Aemond protests. With practised ease, he repositions you so your ass is propped high before him, your body bent forward as you have to lean on your forearms to keep from planting your face on the sheets. 

He doesn’t ease up on his relentless thrusting, and you’re left squirming and cock-drunk. Your eyes rolling to the back of your head, you’re blissed-out on what only Aemond can give you.

“Does he fuck you as good?” he spits in obvious distaste. “I don’t think so, baby. Can’t fuck this pussy like I do.” 

“N-no,” you whimper, without any trace of guilt. “Only you, Aem.”

“Hmm,” he simpers. “Come for me, ace. Be a good girl now. Come around my cock, yeah?”

“Mhhmm,” you pant, growing weaker and weaker at his statements, your walls tensing for that release you crave.

“You’re mine, ace. Mine.”

Your whimper comes out sudden and unrestrained as you let go, and feel your warm juices leaking down your thighs. The sounds of his cock growing noisy and sloppier. He releases not long after, with a few sharp spasms, decorating your insides with his cum. 

Marking someone who is not supposed to be his. 

But nothing else matters as he crumples against you and pulls you into his arms. If something is to be reconciled with, it won’t be for tonight.

With these things, regret always comes along with the sunrise.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

“40 - 30.”

The crowd cheers at the umpire’s announcement. You can barely make out the faces morphing together into one homogeneous mob, but you’ve observed enough to know that Aemond isn’t among them. Rivulets of sweat drip down your face and you walk to the side as another break starts. 

Helaena nods at you from the opposite side of the court, and you respond with a terse smile.

She resembles him so much - the one you’ve been avoiding for the past three days. With that same distinct shade of blonde hair and deep blue eyes, but possessing an aura of tenderness about her. If Aemond wasn’t lying about her plan to retire, then it makes perfect sense. She seems too good for the sport, too pure, whereas you fit right into its cruel constraints.

What sort of person would have done what you did, some nights ago, and be able to walk with their head held high? You want to believe that you regret sleeping with Aemond, that you would reverse your actions, given the chance. But the pain that eats at you is that you might have fucked things up for good, abruptly leaving before he woke up that morning. 

It’s ironic - you may just get what you said you wanted. To end things. Never to be the same with him again. 

You slump in your seat, wiping at your face with a towel, pushing all thought of Aemond from your mind. 

From your periphery, you catch Helaena gesturing to you. She smiles, and you think that your emotions must show so clearly on your face that she feels bad for you. 

She nods, and tilts her head to the side, so that you follow her gaze. Standing courtside, partially hidden in the corner just behind the barriers, you see Aemond closely watching you. 

He came after all. You turn back to Helaena, unable to hide your surprise, and she sends another smile your way. She knows. Of course she does. 

With renewed excitement, the match continues. It only takes one more point, one final ace, and you emerge triumphant. The court fills with cheers and sounds of celebration. It is declared that you are advancing to the next round of the tournament. You meet Helaena in the middle and she firmly shakes your hand, exhibiting no sign of disappointment. 

“Congratulations! Very well played.” She drops her racket and grasps your hand with both of hers. She leans closer, and adds, “You know, I also consider it a win for myself, because my last ever match is against the girl my brother is in love with.”

You forget where you are, the revelation rendering everything else moot. The cheering crowds disappear, and it’s just you and Helaena as she dips her head comfortingly, assuring you that you heard her words true.

“I’m sure I’ll see you soon,” she lets go finally, with a cheerful, “go celebrate!”

You feel yourself being whisked away, cameras flashing from all sides. Art appears in front of you and he pulls you into an embrace. Several onlookers gush at the sight. You barely take notice of them, your eyes already drifting to where Aemond was standing. 

There he remains, casually leaning against the barriers. Some audience members realise that the great Aemond Targaryen stands among them, and one by one a small crowd forms around him, asking for pictures and autographs.

He continues to hold your gaze, his usual smirk making an appearance, ignoring a guy waving a camera at his face. You shake your head at the scene, a genuine laugh bubbling from your lips.

You nod to each other, as if acknowledging the absurdity of it all, and leave it at that. There’s a lot more to be said, for another time. Art wraps his arm around your waist, and Aemond takes it as his cue to look away, relenting to the eager fans surrounding him.

You direct your gaze to your boyfriend, immediately seeing the recognition in Art’s eyes. He’s seen everything. 

He doesn’t need to be as acutely perceptive as Helaena to realise the truth. That of the one-eyed rogue and his ace. You’ve been drifting from him for so long, that it was only a matter of time. 

He was your friend first, and he always will be. You’ve watched each other grow, through endless mistakes and challenges, and there’s a fire in you he cannot match. 

But Aemond can. He knows this now. 

He extends a hand out to you, one which you accept with poorly masked caution. He understands how woeful it must be, to tear yourself apart from being in love with someone else. The shame and uncertainty that must entail. 

For both your sakes, he decides that he has to be the bigger person and do the right thing. 

“What do you say?” Art offers to you. “Post match treat?” he asks, referring to your tradition of sharing a large strawberry sundae after games. 

“Okay.” Your smile is sweet and unguarded, and it reminds him of when you first met, nearly six years ago. That day, he knew he had made a lifelong friend. 

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

“I wish I could say I’m happy to see you here, but we did once promise not to lie to each other.”

Aemond swivels toward the sound of your voice, cigarette smoke billowing from his lips. 

“Vile habit, Targaryen.” You wrinkle your nose, and he just shakes his head and crushes the butt of his cigarette under his shoe.

“Yeah, well.” He merely shrugs. He was dead set on quitting, but something came up the past couple of days, causing his anxiety to reach new heights. When you ignored him after the night you shared, he can’t fault himself for reaching for depraved solace in nicotine. But no substance would ever be enough to erase the precious memory of watching you come undone. 

“Not happy to see me, ace?” he refers back to your greeting, not bothering to hide the hurt he feels. 

You walk closer to him, trying to hold back a smile. “Well, I lied. But it’s not like I haven’t lied before.” You stop when you’re right in front of him, the remnants of his smoke making you feel woozy. “I also lied when I said that we can’t keep being us anymore. When I said goodbye.”

“Hmm,” his lips curl at your confession. “Judging by how wildly you fucked me after you said that, I could already tell.”

You roll your eyes, but you already feel so much better, like things are falling right back into place. All it took was some teasing from the apparently callous, sharp-tongued, ambitious-to-a-fault boy standing before you. 

A boy who revealed the true depths of his compassion only to you. He let you thaw out his cold heart from its confines and declared it yours. 

“Something more to say, ace?” he asks.

“You first.”

“Are you kidding? Why don’t you play this game with your boyfriend?”

You share a lingering look, effectively answering his question. The unabashed shit-eating smile that breaks out on his face is enough to tell you just how he feels. 

“Don’t gloat,” you warn him, but he’s already pulled you flush against him with both arms. “I also need a new coach.”

“Mhmm,” he nods, not really in response to your statement. “Save that for later, ace. Please shut the hell up and kiss me.”

He can’t help but smile through kisses, his lips chasing yours when you make an effort to pull away and say something more. 

“Aemond, will you - ”

“Fuckin’ - ” a cuss slips from him when you manage to break apart, depriving him of your lips. He answers impatiently, “Yes of course, I’ll be your coach, ace. Of course. Happy? I’ll be anything you want me to be.”

Before he leans in once more, you say, “Don’t you dare fuck this up, Targaryen.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, my love.”

You lean back in mild surprise.

He laughs, “I mean - ace - or my love. Either one applies, really.”

"I... I prefer ace," you say weakly.

"Now, now, my love. I thought we promised not to lie to each other?"

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[satorucci]

drug dealer! gojo

♡ cw: dubcon, drug use, manipulation, breeding, rough sex, dacryphilia, dumbification, corruption, gojo is a shady drug dealer with really good shit and just can't stand the idea of not having reader :(

♡ currently listening to: one of the girls - the weeknd

♡ author’s note: remember kids, this is fictional! don’t be like gojo in this fic irl!! next fic will be a request sent in! asks, submissions, and inbox are open - to see the schedule, please go to my wips page linked in my pinned navigation post! mwah <3

MDNI

♡ everyone knows gojo. among the student body of his college campus, he's a god. according to professors and admin, he's a stain on the well-funded, prestigious campus's name and reputation. for the police, he's the most annoying collegiate dealer they've ever tried to nail down. seriously, how can one kid who just turned drinking age be so slippery?

♡ "where can i get that adderall you were talking about?" "do you know anyone i can get good bud from?" "I'm going to the club on saturday! know anyone with some clean molly?" the answer is always gojo. if the answer isn't gojo, then it's geto, his right-hand man. gojo is the ruler on a campus where the use of study and party drugs is absolutely rampant. what else could get these students through their grueling hours of studying for life-path-determining tests and unpaid internship work?

♡ gojo, who, though he's known as the "big man" on campus, rarely makes appearances. it's your third year of college, and you still haven't caught a glimpse of him. granted, you don't really run in the same circles as gojo, nor do you run in the circles that would be anywhere near him. no, not you. you're a model student - a teacher's pet who tutors undergrads in both chemistry and english because you're one of the chosen ones who's good at both the sciences and the arts. you're the students that professors trust to run errands for them, to explain the content of the class when they're not in the room, the one everyone relies on to do their homework so that they can cheat off you. and you do it all without the stupid adderrall or the weed, or whatever else it might be that people take to help them cope with college and life.

♡ you, who doesn't even acknowledge your burnout when it hits. you, who stays up into the wee hours of the morning, textbooks and notebooks and pens and paper and cheatsheets and - ohmygod, sometimes you think your head might combust. but you never let anyone know. not your roommate or your friends back home who either decided that college wasn't for them or that they'd do better at a community college. as you sit at your desk, frustrated, head in hands (for what seems like the millionth time this year), for a split second you wonder what it'd be like to be like your peers. to relax more, to go out sometimes, to throw your cares in the fucking wind. you haven't even slept with anyone since your freshman year of college, and it was so underwhelming you've completely forgotten everything about the experience. the guys face, his name, even what his dick felt like. the only release you've felt the past two years has been from your right hand and the vibrator that sits on your nightstand. you let out a deep sigh. so is life. and then you're back to work.

♡ gojo, who is in his fifth (yes, fifth) and final year of college, decides that a great way to celebrate would be to orchestrate his own send-off. a party for the ages. a party that would eclipse any party to ever grace his college campus, past, present, or future. and so, he and geto get to work on concocting their plan. for a moment, they debate on a theme, sitting quietly as their last few functioning braincells struggle to come up with an idea. their eyes meet and they burst into laughter, instead. "oh please. fuck the theme. everyone'll hear it's my party and they'll show" gojo tells geto nonchalantly, to which geto huffs out a laugh and nods. "you're not wrong. you are the satoru gojo. i mean fuck, they don't even call you by your first name." gojo's face twists into one of confusion as his eyebrow quirks up. "they don't call you by your first name, either." geto stares at gojo, oblivious to the simple fact. "seriously, suguru, lay off the weed."

♡ you, who, for some reason, have actually found yourself palling around in the infamous gojo's circle. well, not for some reason. it's because your roommate, shoko, invited you to come out to a party allegedly being hosted by gojo and geto. at first, you didn't believe it - the invitation, that is. you didn't have many doubts in your head that the party was happening and that it was, in fact, being hosted by the most infamous pair on campus, but you were shocked when shoko invited you of all people. you didn't know much about your rather quiet and intimidating roommate. she was a short girl with a stoic face who didn't even care about stepping outside to chain-smoke her cigarettes. "hey, shoko... d-do you mind maybe smoking outside the dorm room? it's just, the smell settles into my bedding and clothes, and-" shoko had cut you off with a simple, "nah. m' gonna keep smoking in here." when you had brought it up not long after the two of you had been assigned as roommates and moved in together. `"too cold outside." it was in the high 80s, nearing the 90s in the middle of August when you'd asked.

♡ you, who shoko had grown somewhat fond of during her time living with you, told you factually that she had invited you to accompany her to the party because she "doesn't have any friends besides gojo and geto" and that she "couldn't show up with no one because they were probably gonna be stoned out of their minds or looking for a girl dumb enough to spend the night with them". shoko then asserted that she was neither, so she needed company while at the party. sometimes you forgot that tiny, quiet shoko formed a trio with gojo and geto. she just seemed so different from the stories you'd heard about them - so much more mature and level-headed. shoko kept to herself, preferring solitude and silence over the rowdiness of the weekends on a college campus. sometimes, she would go over to gojo and geto's apartment and smoke with them (you never asked what they were smoking), but she never stayed for too long. she always made her way back before you turned the lights out, signaling the end of your nightly study session.

♡ you, who have no idea how to dress for this party because you haven't been to a party in two years. you have no clue what the new fashion trends are, or if you even have something that might look like it fits in with the massive crowd that's sure to be at gojo and geto's send-off party. shoko plays on her phone, sucking leisurely on a lollipop as she tells you, "don' worry about a theme or anything. gojo and geto were too stupid to think of one, so just come as you are." you grimace at her words. it's easy for her to say that. she's friends with them, so of course, they won't care what attire she comes in. as for you, you have another year left at this college and don't want to be known as the girl who was severely underdressed for what was likely to be one of the biggest parties that campus had ever seen. you pace around the room, throwing clothes all over the floor, for nearly an hour before shoko sighs deeply and tosses her phone on her bed. "watch out." you move out of her way as she makes her way to your closet and picks out an outfit. "wear this. they'll like it." as you stare at the skimpy outfit - a tube top you think you might've grown out of a year ago paired with jean shorts that allow the fat of your ass to hang out of the bottom - you wonder who "they" is.

♡ shoko helps you do your hair and makeup in your dorm before setting off. she also picks out your lotion and perfume. it's honestly the closest you've ever felt to her since the two of you have been living together. "what should we do about coming back to the dorm? should i dd?" you ask shoko, and you've never seen her grimace the way she does in that moment. "jesus, fuck no. we'll probably just spend the night at their place. they know who you are, so they'll be cool with it." and suddenly your night has gotten even worse. even though it's a saturday night, you still have stuff to do on sunday, and shoko is already a late sleeper. you imagine she'll only sleep even later after drinking and smoking whatever it is she- wait. "you talk about me to them?!" shoko returns her attention to her phone. "yeah, sometimes. you're the only roommate i've had in college that i kind of like." kind of like? either way, you take the compliment, and it leaves you feeling as though you can't deny her offer to stay at their place for the night, nor light into her for telling those two misfits anything about you.

♡ you walk alongside shoko, taking small sips of the drink she keeps passing to you on the walk to gojo and geto's apartment. thankfully, it isn't a far walk. they live right on the outskirts of campus, but you still decided to wear tennis shoes to save yourself the pain of walking and partying in heels. shoko, who becomes more talkative and bubbly the more she sips on her drink, finds herself telling you more about gojo and geto. about how she's known them since middle school, about how geto is actually a gentle giant but that he gets jealous of the attention gojo gets, sometimes. about gojo, who, by all of shoko's accounts, is a major pain in her ass. she doesn't give many positive reviews of him, but she does say that the attention he gets is warranted. "he's actually really smart when he's not stupid high. and it's hard to beat a smart dude with good looks." you wonder what he looks like. you overheard a group of girls on campus once talking about gojo, about the blue of his eyes and how it was unnaturally beautiful. "hey, shoko? what does gojo look like?" you ask, shyly. shoko sighs. "you'll know when you see him."

♡ you, who finds yourself trying your best to squeeze through the ocean of bodies that is spilling out into the large parking lot of the apartment complex. the cops'll definitely be here in a few hours. the music coming from the house is so loud that it's causing the pavement of the parking lot to thrum with vibrations. how in the hell do people do this kind of shit every weekend? shoko is leading you, her hand in yours, into the crowd, which, to you, resembles the pits of hell. there have to be hundreds of people outside the house, so you don't even want to think of how packed it is on the inside. shoko pushes past the throngs of people, as tiny as she is. she moves them to the side as if she holds authority over them, and you follow with no questions asked, trying your best to keep up as the alcohol she kept giving you has definitely entered your system. you aren't drunk, at least, not yet. but you're definitely feeling something.

♡ shoko, who pushes past the crowd with ease and ignores the people yelling at her as she marches up to the closed front door of gojo and geto's house. a young man with brown hair stands guard outside the door, smiling stupidly even though people are arguing with him about getting in the house. "move, haibara. my roommate and i want in." shoko says. the man, haibara, laughs and scoots to the side. "be careful, shoko. they're getting pretty crazy in there, so if you need me, just holler, 'kay?" shoko rolls her eyes and proceeds to push past haibara to enter the house. as she does, a sea of people attempt to flood into the unit, but haibara swiftly stops them. the door is shut before you can see exactly what it is that he does to prevent their passage, but either way, you're impressed. then, you turn your attention to the inside of the house.

♡ you, who immediately wants to leave the moment you step foot in the front door. the apartment isn't small by any means. in fact, it's a townhome that looks to be about three stories. but all three stories are packed with people who look more akin to sardines. shoko, still holding your hand, turns to say something to you, but you can't hear her over the insanely loud bass and treble of the speaker. you can't even pinpoint where the speaker is. it sounds like the sound is engulfing the entire house. as shoko turns back around and continues to drag you around the house, you notice the smell. nearly everyone around you is smoking, and you're sure it's weed. some are smoking cigarettes, but the majority of the skunky smell is coming from the blunts and joints that hang off of everyone's lips. people gathered together in groups as they smoke, people smoking by themselves in the tiniest corners possible, potential hookups passing their blunts to one another. yeah, this is totally not your scene.

♡ shoko, who finally reaches her intended destination - the kitchen. you watch as she, still pushing people away, begins to rummage through the freezer, pulling out a bottle of some sort of fancy alcohol. "it's the best they got!" she nearly screams over the music. "i-is it okay to take it?" you ask. shoko leans in, motioning for you to repeat your question, but you have a feeling she heard the first time, so you motion to the bottle instead. shoko's mouth splits into a wide grin. "time for shots!"

♡ shoko, who, you had no clue, is a heavyweight. shoko, who wants to go shot-for-shot, is absolutely whooping your ass right now. after the fourth shot paired with the alcohol you drank on your way to the party, the room is starting to spin just a little bit, but you feel good. for once, there's no stress, no guilt over not being pent up in your room studying, no desire to overachieve to prove your worth - and a lot of horniness. before you can stop yourself, you're scanning the room, looking for any potential takers. you've never thought much of your looks, so you aim for someone you think would be realistic to take to bed. none of the jocks and frat guys. but you also don't want one of the burnout stoners in your bed, either. what's it really matter? dick is dick, after all. as you're scanning the room, you watch the girls who are on the kitchen tabletops, dancing with their tits completely out, and for a moment, you wish you had their confidence. they're beautiful, and it's no wonder they were granted entrance to the party along with the honor of putting on a show that's sure to gain them more than just a few admirers tonight. they rolls their hips and flick their hair as they twirl around on the tables, grabbing at their thongs and pulling them down as if they're going to reveal themselves, but they never do. it's all a tease, and they're enjoying it so much.

♡ you, who continues to drink well past your limit. you, who should've stopped about three shots ago, recognize just how hungover you're going to be in the morning, but you're so drunk you don't care at all. surprisingly, shoko sticks by your side, knocking back shots with you, playing a round of beer pong with you (which she wins for your team), attempting to gossip with you over the loud music. everything feels good right now. everything feels so good. "you look like you're having fun!" a voice shouts over the music, loud enough for you to hear clearly, loud enough for you to turn around and come face-to-face with-

♡ "gojo!!" shoko shouts before jumping in the man's arms, totally wasted. you notice how the entire crowd turns their attention to the two men who have just entered the kitchen, likely from the backdoor connected to it. the man with the long hair pulled back into a bun must be geto. you've never seen either of them, but you're starstruck seeing them for the first time. shoko wasn't at all lying about gojo being quite the looker. snow white hair and eyes bluer than the fucking sky. he towers over both you and shoko, in fact, he seems as though he might be the tallest person in the room. but he's muscular, as well. this isn't the guy you'd think was a burnout stoner. both gojo and geto look like they could be straight-A students with incredible post-college job offers, though shoko has told you they have neither. "fuck she's drunk..." geto grimaces. the man with beautifully traditional looks turns towards you. "you must be the roommate? nic to meet you." he doesn't bother shouting over the music, his words are clear and concise and it's like they cut through the soundwaves in the room. "y-you, too!" you yell back, not a bit of grace. he gives you a gentle smile, and you think you might just melt. no. absolutely not. there's no way i'm turning into one of those campus girls who squeal over these two. you turn your attention to gojo, who has wrapped his arms around shoko and is swinging her around happily, as if she were a ragdoll.

♡ you, who find yourself upstairs in a private room with gojo, geto, and shoko, who after being spun around so much by gojo, decided she needed a toilet or trashcan immediately. you can't deny, the way gojo threw shoko over his shoulder and hauled her to (what you're assuming is) his room was attractive. geto motioned for you to follow them as gojo led the path to the bedroom, the crowd's gaze stuck on the two men that were hauling ass up the stairs. as shoko throws up in gojo's bathroom, geto carves out a spot on gojo's king size bed for you to sit comfortably. gojo remains in the bathroom to help shoko throw up all the alcohol she's digested over the past two hours. "can't believe we're finally getting to meet the roommate in person." geto says to you. you shrug and nod. "shoko says you're like... a study addict or something." you watch as the man crawls onto the bed, sitting across from you at the foot of it, and leans down to pick up some kind of tray from the ground. "yeah, i guess you could say that. i definitely don't get out much." geto nods, pulling out more containers and some sort of torch and - ohmygodhesabouttostartsmoking. "you should get out more. you caught satoru's attention when he walked in. it was you he was initially talking to, not shoko. when shoko gets drunk she only wants to be around her friends, so she saw satoru and pretty much locked onto her target." his eyes widen a bit after he's finished talking. "not saying that shoko doesn't consider you a friend, too! she just hasn't seen satoru in a while." you let out a laugh to ease the tension that had settled over the room. "no, i totally get it, no worries. to be honest, i didn't even know shoko considered us friends until tonight." you watch as geto masterfully takes some grinded up weed, opens up a blunt wrap, and empties the tobacco from it. "yeah, usually she hates her roommates, but she's never said anything bad about you. clear indicator that she likes you, 'cause typically she hates everything and everyone."

♡ you, who watches as getou prepares not one, not two, but three blunts before turning to you and saying, "i rolled one for satoru, shoko, and i, but shoko has told us before that you don't smoke, so i didn't roll you one. sure you don't wanna try miss straight-A-student?" you give geto a gentle smile and shake your head. "think i'll be okay. thanks for the offer, though." only a few moments later, gojo emerges from the bathroom with shoko, her arm thrown across his shoulders as he holds her up with one arm. he's so big... you try to physically shake the thoughts from your head as gojo hoists shoko up, once again, throwing her over his shoulder. "suguru, i'm taking her to your bedroom. she can't even hold her damn head up right." geto makes a noise of annoyance and throw his head back, pretty lips pouting as he sets aside his rolling tray (as he called it) and puts one of the freshly wrapped blunts behind his ear. "you so owe me for babysitting duty." geto says as he climbs off the bed. gojo looks at him and smirks before motioning towards you. "i think we're even. i'm stuck with the kid who doesn't even smoke." you physically shy away, embarrassed at the fact that that's all gojo thinks of you as - the kid who doesn't even smoke. you're sure that it's going to be a nuisance for him, but being that shoko insisted on spending the night here, you don't really have anywhere else to turn.

♡ gojo, who joins you in his bedroom once he and geto have gotten shoko settled into geto's bed. you shift awkwardly to give way to gojo's long limbs as he climbs into the bed, reaching for the rolling tray on the floor and grabbing the blunt geto had rolled for him. you don't know much about blunts - or weed in general - but the blunt looks pretty perfect, straight out of the movies. "you don't gotta move around too much, pretty girl. it's a king size, so there's more than enough room for the both of us." gojo flashes you a pretty smile and you feel yourself recoil because of his beauty. his flashy white teeth, his messy white hair, his muscular arms that reach for a lighter. "heard you don't smoke?" you nod your head. "any reason why? or is it just because you're a study addict or something?" a study addict or something. that's exactly what geto said. they must spend a lot of time with each other. "i think i just never really had the opportunity." you can hear a slight slur in your words from the alcohol. though you know that you're probably nothing more than a nuisance for gojo in this moment, you can't help the flush that floods your cheeks. he really is that hot. "never had the opportunity, huh?" your entranced by the way gojo flicks the lighter and brings the blunt to his lips, taking a long, deep drag before looking at you and smiling, a bit of smoke escaping through his lips. "you have an opportunity now, pretty girl."

♡ you, who shakes your head vigorously. no way. absolutely not. no way. you've already drank so much, and you don't think mixing a drug you've never done with a really hot guy you don't know would be the smartest thing you could do at this very moment. gojo gives you a pout that makes it so, so hard to resist his offer. "c'mon, not even for me? it is my graduation party, after all. you don't even have to smoke the whole thing with me. a puff or two'd have you feelin' real good." you bite your lip, contemplating what you should do. the tiny bit of logic left in your brain is telling you this is a terrible idea, but the drunk part of you keeps repeating in gojo's sing-songy voice "a puff or two'd have you feelin' real good." and the way he keeps calling you pretty girl. the way he almost purrs the words out has you feeling as though, maybe, just maybe, gojo is a safe place. maybe gojo knows exactly what's right for you.

♡ you, who reaches your hand out slowly, as if asking permission to take the blunt in your hands. you keep your eyes trained on the blunt in his hand, and nowhere else. if you keep looking him directly in the eyes, you're scared you might just fade into a sea you'll never swim your way out of. gojo chuckles and gives you a "tut tut" as he wags his finger. "the hell? didn't you want me to hit it?" you can't stop the drunken words from falling out of your mouth. "'course i do, but you gotta do it right your first time. lean in close." begrudgingly, you lean in close to the man, feeling yourself wobble as you do. satoru puts the blunt between his lips, inhaling deeply, before bringing his lips to yours.

♡ you, who is wide-eyed and confused as you feel the weed smoke enter your lungs while satoru's lips are pressed firmly against yours. he even fists your hair, keeping you in place as he blows nearly every last bit into your lungs. you try your best to inhale, try your bestnot to cough up the musky smoke because you can't embarrass yourself in front of the satoru gojo. when satoru's lips part from yours, you immediately feel the haze of euphoria glossing over your entire body. your brain, already fucked from the alcohol, becomes absolute mush. and you totally do cough. a lot.

♡ satoru, who chuckles heartily at you as you cough, reaches for a drink that's sitting next to him. "wash it down with this." he hands it to you, and when you sip it, you realize it's more alcohol. your hands feel heavy, your entire body feels heavy, but at the same time, your mind feels as ease. no, your mind feels good. satoru was right, you feel amazing. you can't really think straight, the room is twisting and turning, coming in and out of view as you enjoy the feeling you're getting from the high and the alcohol. satoru can easily tell that you're fucked up. "wow, you really haven't smoked before. and the first time you do, you get cross-faded? that's the kind of girl i need in my life." it's no wonder so many girls fall for him. aside from his looks, he's charming. always calling you "pretty girl", saying you're "the kind of girl he needs in his life". you bet he's had many women fall in love with him in his short life span.

♡ you, who can't hold your tongue with all the substances coursing through your body. "you don' mean that" you slur the sentence out. satoru quirks an eyebrow up at you as he continues to hit the blunt. "n' stop callin' me "pretty girl", i bet you use that on everyone." the grin that splits satoru's face is oh so attractive. "no, i only use it on pretty girls." he responds. his voice, a bit huskier than earlier from the smoke, sounds like heaven to your ears. "i'm boringly average." you respond, and satoru makes a face of disgust. "i don't smoke with boringly average people. ever since shoko told us about you i've been wanting to see you with my own eyes, but she said you pretty much never leave that damn dorm room." before you can respond, satoru's eyes flick towards you. "wan' another hit?"

♡ you, who finds yourself taking yet another hit of this fucking blunt. not because you want to. certainly not because you need it, but because satoru wants you to. satoru... i can call him that, right? satoru, once again, "shotguns" the blunt for you, setting it down to reach up for your hair. this time, his lips, while pressed firmly against yours, move a bit, as if he’s trying to actually kiss you. you feel it as his free hand finds purchase on your bare thigh, and the thought of him possibly moving his hand just a bit higher plays in your mind. you don’t know if it’s from the alcohol or the weed, but your body feels electric. the press of satoru’s firm lips, the way his hand is now gripping your thigh, its all too much. when he pulls away from the “shotgun”, you find yourself embarrassingly leaning forward, practically begging him for more. after your second hit, the world is completely hazy. you can barely make out the contents of the room around you, the mess of blankets on the bed. the only thing that’s clear is satoru sitting in front of you, satisfied grin splitting his mouth. “look at you, pretty girl. fucked up, huh?”

♡ you, who is absolutely entranced as satoru continues to talk to you as he smokes. you can barely make out what he’s saying with all the blood rushing through your head. or maybe it’s rushing out? maybe you’ve landed on a completely different plane of existence and satoru is your only company. it feels as though the two of you are the only people in the world at this very moment. you readjust yourself on the plush mattress, leaning back on the pillows behind you. “and then suguru- oh, you feelin’ tired?” he asks you, cutting off the story he was previously telling you. to be honest, you don’t even really know what he was going on about. you shake your head. “not tired, jus’… i don’ know. jus’ feel different…” you trail off.

♡ you, who doesn’t notice the feral grin that graces satoru’s lips as he sees you drifting in and out of consciousness. you, who doesn’t know that shoko has shown satoru pictures od you, shown him your social media, and satoru has asked about you almost everyday since then. you, who doesn’t know that satoru often talks to suguru about “turning you out” because you’re just “too cute to be that innocent”. satoru, who wants to corrupt you completely. your eyes drift open for a moment, the world spinning around you as you feel the bed moving. satoru climbs into the spot next to you. sweet you, who doesn’t know that satoru loves corrupting girls like you on campus. you, who is so hot, you’re burning up. who is flushed from head to toe, not understanding why you’re on fire, why your pussy is absolutely throbbing as satoru positions himself next to you on the bed.

♡ you, who doesn’t really understand what’s going on when satoru’s hand begins to trace small circles on the flesh of your thigh. you know you like the sensation, but you don’t understand why he’s doing it. it’s not like he’s helping you smoke anymore. it’s not like you could take anymore smoking. “feel good?” he asks, and you don’t know whether he’s referring to the circles he’s drawing on your skin or the euphoric feeling you’re getting from the weed you just smoked. either way, you nod your head, unable to really form sentences. you, who doesn’t know that satoru is a scumbag who reserves his heaviest hitting, highest quality weed for perfect girls like you. girls he wants to fuck into the mattress until you can’t feel anything but his cock deep inside of you.

♡ satoru, who constantly asked shoko for updates on you because he thought you were oh-so-cute. shoko's sweet roommate who never went out and partied, never tried drugs, barely ever drank, and, satoru theorized, hadn't been laid in a loooong time. your perfect curves, your pretty face, and shiny hair - how could he not want to corrupt the very core of your being? you don't protest as satoru rubs circles into your thigh, so then, he insists on squeezing at them, kneading the fat between his fingers, feeling his cock go from half-hard to rock solid. you're so pliant, so malleable, both physically and mentally. it didn't take much at all for him to convince you to smoke with him. for a proclaimed study-addict shut-in, you sure were eager to indulge in drugs when a pretty guy asked you to. satoru wondered what else you'd be willing to go along with.

♡ you, who doesn't protest even when satoru's hands travel from your thighs to the buttons of your jeans. his hands feel so good on you. you're trying to place the landmarks in his room, an ugly poster of... something, a carpet on the floor, but all of it looks so hazy to you. the only thing you know for sure is that satoru gojo is beside you and that his hands are on you. then, the bed shifts again, and satoru is on top of you. despite being muscular, he feels lightweight. maybe it's because you're so fucked up. satoru likes the view he gets from above you - the way your mouth is slightly parted, the way your eyes are slowly traveling the room, and look as though you aren't really sure what's going on. satoru finishes unbuttoning your jeans before leaning down close to your ear, "you want more, pretty girl? wanna feel even better?" it's only then you've noticed that he's unbuttoned your jeans, leaving you with an anxious seed that has blossomed in the pit of your gut. he doesn't intend to... does he?

♡ you, who tries weakly to push satoru away, only for a moment, until you realize that you're far too fucked up to do so. satoru, who actually climbs off of you, giving you the space you're signaling that you want. little do you realize that, without him, this high is going to start feeling very uncomfortable if you can't find release. "if you don' wanna, i won't make you. rape's totally not my style." he says nonchalantly, making his way back to his side of the bed. "maybe it's time for you to head home, ya know, since you're all fucked up." and for some reason, that anxiety you'd felt earlier begins to feel overwhelming. you don't want to be sent back home. no, not by the satoru gojo. you can't be the one to disappoint him. for a moment, you think about the girls on campus, the ones who've cried because their hearts and expectations were shattered by the man in front of you. but you... you have a chance. he calls you "pretty girl", says he "needs a girl like you". you have a chance to be different from the other girls on campus - you have a chance to show satoru that you can be worth his time.

♡ you, who, with all your strength, grips satoru's hand, pulls him back towards you. "n-no... i-i wanna do it." you're voice is a whisper, hardly heard even by your own ears. satoru smirks and leans closer. "what was that pretty girl?" he asks. you bite your lip, embarrassed at having to repeat yourself to him. "i-i'll do it. wanna do it." you can feel satoru debating on whether your plea is enough for him. "please." and then it's enough. satoru is looming over you in an instant, hands on the waistband of your jeans, pulling them carefully down your legs. even the friction of the fabric against your legs as it slides down is enough to make you rub your thighs together. satoru throws your jeans across the bedroom before sliding his hands up your legs, caressing your thighs, pawing at the plush of your love handles and stomach. any other time, a man paying such close attention to your body might've made you feel self-conscious, but with satoru it was different. you could see in his eyes just how much he was enjoying this- enjoying you. "you done this before, pretty?" he asks you, fingering the hem of your tube top. you nod shyly. "...only twice. with one person." and satoru thinks he could cum just from hearing that. almost as priceless as a virgin. and from what shoko had told him, he figured that it was your freshman year of college since the last time you'd done anything besides play with that vibrator shoko says you keep on your nightstand constantly.

♡ satoru, who lifts the tube top from you, carefully removing it from your body, as he tries to get your limbs to comply with his movements. "no bra? naughty girl." he whispers to you. you're laid bare for him, nothing but your panties covering you. "you ready?" you give him a small nod, trying to cover your tits from his vision, but he quickly pulls your arms away. "don't hide from me." his voice is demanding, the most sinister he's sounded since the moment you met him. satoru wastes no time in leaning down, pressing gentle kisses to your neck. ah, at least he's gentle. but his gentle nature doesn't last long. the kisses he places on your neck quickly turn into harsh bites, and you can't conceal the whines that spill from your mouth. your knees try to come together to push him off of you, but you're quickly subdued as satoru parts them with ease. "c'mon, don't push me away, sweetheart." satoru licks, sucks, and bites at your neck as his weight becomes heavier on top of you. one of his hands finds your tit, his thumb roaming over your peaked nipple, playing with it, tweaking it, until his mouth becomes bored of you neck and moves to your free breast. it feel so good. his mouth is warm on your nipple, his teeth harsh when he bites down. not so hard that's it's tortuous, but harsh enough for you to lose your breath momentarily. his bites soothe you by turning into a gentle suck, his tongue playing with the nipple in his mouth. he swirls his tongue around, and god, you wonder what'd it feel like if he was doing it to your clit.

♡ you, who doesn't have to wait long for satoru to move down south. his lips brush against your stomach, his hands lightly tracing your ribs as he finds his way to your cunt, already soaked through your underwear. satoru presses a thumb to your clothed clit, "wow, what a body you have." he sounds amazed. "even virgins don't get this wet." you can barely process what he's saying - you're euphoric as he plays with your throbbing clit through your panties. every time your legs come up to suffocate him as a response to the gentle touches, he pushes them away. one of his hands holds down your knee as he paws at your clit, teases your clothed hole with a finger. and then he places his mouth on your clit. the feeling is like nothing you've ever felt before. a sea of euphoria washes over you as satoru's mouth latches onto your clit, his tongue flicking and licking at it before gently sucking on it. your body is writhing underneath his touch, your hips undulating as one of your hands reaches for his hair. you don't even realize that you're using your grip on his hair to press his mouth into your clit, begging for something harsher. satoru smiles against your clit before pushing your panties to the side. "baby wants more?" and you gasp as his mouth is directly on your clit. "ah! y-yes! oh my god, yes!" your other hand finds his hair, a vice grip on him, directing his head exactly where you want him to go. it's not like satoru wouldn't have done so on his own, but his cock is throbbing at the way you're attempting to take control of him. someone challenging the satoru gojo? he's up for it.

♡ you, who has no control over the coil deep in your core snapping as satoru eats you out like a professional. at some point, he completely discarded your panties. satoru sits on his knees between your thighs, his mouth on your clit and two fingers knuckle-deep inside of you, twisting and turning, scissoring your insides and brushing against your g-spot until you're brought to yet another orgasm. your entire body is shaking with pleasure, the orgasm so much more intense than the ones you have when you sober - the ones you bring upon yourself. satoru is completely entranced by your cunt. it's so perfect, he could spend hours between your legs. practically untouched, you're dripping wet, your clit just perfect, and you're so turned on it's no longer hidden by your cute little hood. all of you is perfect, and satoru loves the fucked-out expressions your typically innocent face is making. he loves hearing you moan and gasp, whine and cry out, begging, "please don't stop! i'm so close!" you obviously don't know what it's like to be fucked right. after bringing you to your second orgasm, satoru doesn't think he can hold it in any longer. his cock is leaking, aching and begging for some sort of release.

♡ satoru, who finds himself unbuttoning his jeans and throwing his shirt off. oh, how you wish you were sober enough to make out his sculpted body. he stands up for only a moment to take his jeans and briefs off, throwing them across the room, as well. he hops back on the bed, lifting your leg and kissing the inside of your thigh, biting and sucking at it as he adjusts himself between your legs. "ready for more, pretty girl? final show." you nod slowly, the room around you spinning. "aw, you don't sound too excited. maybe s' too much for you?" your heart drops, the anxiety returning. "n-no! i wan' it." your response only elicits a sigh from satoru. not good enough. "p-please satoru! please fuck me! wan' you to fuck me and no one else. wanna be one of your girls..." that's it. the look in satoru's eyes is absolutely feral. "oh, you wanna be one of my girls? want me to fuck you like one of my girls?" you nod as furiously as you can. "think you can handle it, pretty girl?" yes. yes, you can handle it.

♡ satoru, who you think will enter you gently, will fuck you softly. instead, he lines his cockhead up with your entrance gently pushing in the tip before violently bottoming out inside of you. all the breath is gone from your lungs in a matter of seconds. satoru gives you no time to recover, his hands finding your hips, fucking into you at a mach three speed. the sound of skin slapping and your uncontrollable screams fill the bedroom. your head knocks against satoru's headboard as he continues to abuse your cervix. you can't catch your breath. one of his hands travels down to your cunt, thumb rubbing at your clit and you're completely overwhelmed with the sensations coming over you, not in waves, but in a tsunami, crashing down on you with full force. your clit is throbbing as satoru pounds into you over and over and over and - and you can't stop thinking about the absolute euphoria you're feeling. you don't know if it's from the weed or the alcohol, but there's no pain in the way satoru fucks into you, only pleasure so intense, it brings tears to your eyes. your hand reaches up, placing your palm flat against the headboard to give your head a bit of relief from the constant smacking of it against the wood.

♡ satoru, who never lets you rest. the moment he pulls his cock out of you, he flips you onto your stomach as if you were light as a feather. he manipulates and contorts your body, lifting up hips up into the air and spreading your thighs, taking a moment to admire the sight of your pretty cunt spread wide open just for him. he can't help but dip his tongue in a few times, causing you to cry out, muffled against the pillows. "sorry, pretty girl. you're just too irresistible. and you're doing so good for me. thought i'd give you a little reward." you moan out as satoru continues to lap at your cunt, your legs threatening to give way as he brings you dangerously close to another orgasm. but just when you think that coil is about to snap once again, he stops. his tongue is instantly replaced by his cock, continuing his assault on your cervix. this time, it's so much deeper, so deep you swear you can feel him in your guts. his arm wraps around your midsection, helping hold you upright as he fucks into you with not a care in the world. his balls, heavy and full of cum, slap against your cunt, but it's not enough for satoru. his free hand finds your clit, rubbing it sideways, rubbing circles on it. it's too much. satoru presses his pelvis into you, pushing your face even further into the mattress. "so, so good for me, pretty girl." satoru says from behind you. he leans down, his body caging yours in as bites at you neck, surely leaving marks. his lips are right next to you ear. "really are one of my girls. if you take cock this good, might jus' make you my only girl." his words leave you trembling. he's not just amazing at sex, he's amazing at telling girls what they want to hear. satoru likes to think it's always been one of his selling points, always able to tell girls what they want to hear so that he can get what he wants from them.

♡ satoru, who fucks you so good you lose your mind. you're babbling and moaning, whining and crying as satoru fucks into you from behind. the arm that held up your midsection is gone, now restraining one of your arms, holding it behind your back as he relentlessly bullies your insides. the tears flowing from your eyes are soaked up by the mattress, and satoru keeps whispering sweet nothings into your ear as he brings you to orgasm over and over again. "this cunt is so perfect, sweet girl. really - hah - really can't believe you kept this from me. fits me just right." he's so deep his pelvis slams into your ass over and over, the noise filling the room along with his grunts and your muffled screams. at this point, you are screaming. the overwhelming feeling of being overstimulated and the constant slamming of his cock into you, it's all too much. the way satoru sometimes lets his free hand grab at the fat of your ass, slapping it, then caressing it to cool the burning left behind.

♡ satoru, who leans down, telling you, "m' so close, baby. where d'ya want it?" satoru, who asks, but has full intention on cumming inside of you. a cunt this perfect? he can't imagine doing anything but attempting to fill you with his babies. he imagines you'd be so cute knocked up. "i-i," you can barely get your words out. "in-inside, satoru, please. please, cum inside me. w-wan' you to f-fill me up, please." satoru, who decides that he must have you. even if it means keeping you high 24/7, he's willing to do it. he's willing to do anything to keep a slut this perfect. one whose a slut only for him. "oh yeah, i can do that, pretty girl. wanna have my babies?" you nod furiously into the pillow. "please! yes, please!" and that's all it takes to bring satoru over the edge. he cums hard, his balls tightening as he spills everything he has into you. he's not sure he's ever blown a load this big. but how could anyone blame him? he's found the perfect cunt for his cock - cinderella's slipper if you will. he leans against your back for a bit of support as his own body begins to shake, your cunt cumming in response to being filled up, spasming and squirting all over him. satoru watches, bleary-eyed, as his cum mixes with your juices and flows out of you like honey. your legs shake, your entire body shakes, as you babble on, thanking him for the orgasm, begging for more. you're so cute. satoru just can't get enough of you.

♡ you, who is just coming down from your high when satoru brings you a towel and tap water from his bathroom. you, who can barely keep your eyes open from the way your body has been abused through the night. you don't know how long it lasted, but you can hear that the music has died down downstairs. satoru wipes you off with the towel, forcing you to drink a little water, as he knows you're going to be so fucked in the morning. you can barely talk, so satoru tells you to sleep instead. it doesn't take you more than a couple of minutes to fall asleep.

♡ satoru, who after you fall asleep, takes a shower and texts geto. he leaves you alone in his room, bundled up in blankets before making his way to geto's room. satoru sits on the floor, sighing and shaking his still-wet hair. "that's some good shit, suguru. keep that in the rotation." geto smiles at his best friend. "told you it was great. what was better, though? the weed or the girl?" satoru laughs and shakes his head. "not sure, think i'm gonna keep both around for now." geto sports a pout. "at least include me next time."

[esmedelacroix]

00 - Pilot

synopsis ! he’s an American football player by day and a passionate mathematician by night. She’s a well-rounded historian and writer who couldn’t evaluate a derivative to save her life. They lived in two different worlds but shared the same study room.

series masterlist | cmnt to be added to taglist !

cw ! no use of y/n, y/n is _____, fluff, slow burn, college au, ooc sukuna, f!reader, child abuse/neglect, alcohol abuse, suggestive

fic radio ! Heavy by The Marías

Ryomen Sukuna knew from a young age that he was a genius. It didn’t take his fourth grade teacher’s praises or his middle school principal placing him in higher level math and science classes. He just knew. But his mother, the resentful drunk, put no effort into his education or his future.

He was the product of her falling in love with an American “businessman” who ended up being a low-level drug dealer who eventually got arrested. On his release day, he had already run away to a distant South American country. So here lived Ryomen and his absentee mother, who moved to America to live in a trailer park.

Ryomen’s mother didn’t bother taking him to school or making sure he got on the bus, so he attended school when he could. His teachers constantly sent notes home begging his mother to bring Ryomen to school, but she didn’t care to read them.

Ryomen picked up small jobs around the park, taking care of the elderly for money and sometimes just a meal. When a social worker was sent home, his mother laughed at the idea of Ryomen being intelligent, chuckling, “That brat will never amount to anything. Both his parents are dumb as fuck anyway!”

By middle school, he was juggling two jobs while attending school whenever he could. He probably broke a good amount of child labour laws, but it’s what kept him and his mother alive.

High school changed his life. His good friend, Toji Fushiguro, begged him to try out for the football team. He mused about how many girls they would get, knowing that he only asked Ryomen to try out with him because he was nervous.

Ryomen picked up football with ease. He was an aggressive tackler, and he was an amazing runner. All those hours he worked at factories and warehouses added to his physique. Having to fight the odd men his mother brought over sometimes also toughened him up. But in the case of football, he wasn't pushing himself because he had to; he played because it became an outlet for him.

He ended up being so good that he and Toji went to college with their amazing skills. Ryomen as a quarterback and Toji as a tight end. Their small town never sent anyone to college for sports, so Ryomen and Toji were practically celebrities. Toji thought it was a miracle that he would be attending a highly selective school just because he could catch a ball and block a few dudes. He had no clue that even without the sports scholarship, Ryomen could have gotten into an Ivy Leauge school with just his grades alone. He was an undercover nerd.

. . .

You grew up in the kind of environment where everything you did was talked about. Being one of the wealthiest families in Upstate New York meant all eyes were on you at all times. You were an only child who was afraid to rebel. So you tried your hardest to be picture perfect. Never allowing yourself to break under pressure.

Attending one of the most prestigious prep schools in New York meant having to be at the top of your class. It meant juggling a full schedule of APs, electives, extracurriculars, clubs, and tutoring. You did all of this seemingly without breaking a sweat. Being the best had a cost. You didn't get to live the teenage life, and it upset you. Your parents insisted on you staying close. But you had different ideas. You were tired of feeling like a hermit. Never having drank alcohol, or dated, or even partied(outside of formal events), you needed to do college right. You couldn’t achieve that close to home.

You could do that at Ohio State. You wouldn’t be the slightly entitled good girl. You'd be the life of the party.

. . .

-> next part

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Topper’s sister (one or two years younger you pick) who does Only Fans and Rafe finds out. He subscribes and watches her content (because she’s hot and off limits since she’s Topper’s little sister) in secret, then blackmails her saying he’s gonna tell Topper. One weekend, she comes to Rafe and Topper’s place to surprise Topper for his birthday, but he’s not there and rafe blackmails her into giving him a blowjob

This is the longest work I've written in a while, I hope you enjoy

p.s. There is a possibility to make a part 2 for this one. Let me know if you are interested

Warnings: 18+, smut, blackmail, oral (m receiving),

—

After showering, Rafe tossed his towel into the hamper and fell on his bed. Topper was out with Cynthia — or maybe it was Vanessa —, which left him alone for the night. Rafe wasn’t complaining though, being alone was nice sometimes. Especially when he wanted to jerk off. 

He could have done it in the shower, but having visual material made the release better. 

Phone in hand, Rafe scrolled for something to watch. Sadly, none of the girls he was following had put up new content, so he looked for new accounts. He found a cute one, brunette with blue eyes, but she had overly huge tits and Rafe wasn’t into that — no offense to the girl. He almost went looking elsewhere when his eyes caught a familiar face.  

Rafe hit the profile and the biggest smirk turned on his lips. 

No fucking way. 

‘’Caught your dirty little secret,’’ he said to himself, his blue eyes staring at the free photoset you had to attract subscribers. Your sheer white bra left not much to the imagination and the curve of your ass had Rafe’s cock twitching. He’s been wanting to hit it since you wore that bikini at this beach parry last summer. 

Without hesitation, he subscribed and opened the first video.

You were sitting cross-legged on your dorm bed with nothing but a baby pink bodysuit, which hugged your figure perfectly. Your hard nipples were poking through the thin fabric, as if they were trying to say ‘hello’ to your viewers. You winked at the camera as your right hand slowly went down your chest, making a show of pinching your covered nipple and catching your bottom lip with your teeth as you let out a little moan. 

The sound made Rafe grip his cock and start to slowly jerk it. He was weak for nice tits…and yours were very nice. 

You pulled your other breast free from the fabric, your delicious nipple popping free as you asked the camera if they'd like to suck on them. Without waiting for an answer — not that you would be getting any since it was pre-recorded —, you looked down at it and dribbled spit onto yourself. 

 If Topper knew he was jerking off to his little sister, he would rip his head off. 

And your parents? If they knew about your secret online business, they would cancel all payments to your prestigious college and bring your ass back to Kildare. Dr. Cynthia Thornton’s daughter could not be part of the world of prostitution. It would look terrible for their name. 

Normally, Rafe loved to ruin people’s lives just for fun, but he was enjoying the view too much. All the photo-sets of you in delicate lingerie, the occasional topless ones, the close-ups of your fingers — and sometimes toys — in your pussy and the sweet moans that came from your mouth every time you were pleasuring yourself were part of his night routine. As perverted as it sounded. 

Weeks passed, and soon Topper’s birthday was coming up. The boys planned on going out to a club and celebrating there, but the plan changed when you showed up to your brother’s apartment for a birthday surprise.

‘’Where’s Top?’’ you asked, walking in like it was your own place. 

With a frown on his face, Rafe watched and closed the door behind you. ‘’At the gym with Braxton,’’ he replied. ‘’What are you doing here?’’ 

‘’Am I not allowed to surprise my brother for his birthday?’’ 

‘’We already have plans, and you’re not part of it.’’ 

Although Rafe had reserved a private booth, there was no way Topper would allow you to come to the club. 

Brushing off his objection, you grabbed your small suitcase and scanned the apartment. ‘’Where’s the guest bedroom?’’

‘’Here,’’ Rafe said, pointing at the couch. 

‘’I’m not sleeping on the couch.’’ 

‘’We turned the third bedroom into a gaming room. It’s the couch or the floor. You pick.’’ 

You raised an eyebrow, considering your options. The floor got crossed immediately — women do not sleep on floors. The couch, although soft and comfortable looking, had probably been used to have sex. It was a college boys apartment. 

‘’Then, I’ll be taking your bedroom.’’ 

 ‘’Absolutely not, Princess. This is my apartment, I'm not sleeping on the couch.’’

You crossed your arms, challenging his resistance. ‘’Come on, Rafe. I’m only staying for two days. I need to be back for Sunday, I have—’’ 

‘’Video content to film?’’ 

You gave Rafe a confused look to conceal your inner panic. ‘’A paper due Monday,’’ you said.

Rafe leaned against the couch, his eyes scanning you up and down. ‘’I know about your dirty little secret,’’ he said smugly, explicit images of yourself flashing in his head. ‘’I found your Only Fans account last month. By the way, you look better in light pink than sapphire blue, it washes you out.’’

At this very moment, you wished you could disappear with a snap of your fingers. With the details he was providing, it was impossible that Rafe was bluffing. You thought your account was well hidden, that your username was well thought and would never give you away. How did he find you? 

Your cheeks flushed in embarrassment, looking at Rafe with knives for eyes. 

‘’You didn’t think anyone would find out, did you?’’ 

‘’Did you tell Topper?’’ 

Fear started creeping in your stomach at the thought of Topper knowing about that part of your life. 

Rafe shook his head. ‘’Your secret’s safe with me…on one condition.’’ 

You rolled your eyes. Nothing was ever free with Rafe. He always wanted something in exchange. 

The corner of his mouth curled and you shook your head immediately, easily guessing what he had in mind. ‘’Absolutely not.’’ 

‘’Come on. I’m keeping my mouth shut, the least you can do is open yours.’’ 

Your jaw dropped at his crude words. ‘’That’s blackmail!’’ 

Rafe shrugged, not caring that he was playing dirty. ‘’You do what you want. I’m not gonna be the one in trouble after I make a little call to Topper to tell him his little sister opens her legs for money—’’ 

‘’Fine,’’ you said, gritting your teeth.

Somehow, this was more embarrassing than anything you had done on camera. 

Swallowing your pride, you kneeled before him, trying to ignore the cocky winning smile on Rafe’s face as you came face to face with his clothed lower region.  He was already thick behind his sweatpants — you could see the outline through the gray fabric.

Taking a deep breath, you pulled his sweatpants down, uncovering his cock and balls. You gulped at the sight. He was long and thicker than average, which explained where his confidence came from — aside from his daddy’s big money.

‘’Like what you see?’’ Rafe asked, proud of his appendage. 

Without breaking your annoyance, you rolled your eyes. You couldn’t let him know that you were impressed by his size. He would never let you live this one down.

You wrapped a soft palm around his shaft, letting your thumb stroke over his tip and back down until he reached full hardness. Reluctantly, you dipped your head and took the head into your mouth, swirling your tongue and tasting the pre-cum that leaked from it before going to the base of his shaft. You didn’t take everything into your mouth — yet —, but tried to fit as much as you could. 

A soft groan left Rafe's mouth, feeling the pleasure of yours. His hand came to the back of your head, gripping your hair into a ponytail and encouraging you to continue your movements up and down. You sped up your pace, saliva spilling from your mouth as precum leaked into your mouth and ran down your throat, secretly starting to enjoy yourself. 

You clenched your thighs together, wetness slowly pooling in your panties. 

Above you, Rafe moaned, his grip tightening on your hair as you slid down as deep as you could manage. ‘’That’s it, baby. Put that mouth to good use.’’ 

Had your mouth not been busy, you would have told him to get fucked. Instead, you let him fuck your mouth like you were a inflatable doll from a sex shop until your jaw was starting to ache and you had to pull away. 

Unsatisfied with your ungranted break, Rafe tapped his cock against your cheek, smearing pre-cum and saliva on your face. ‘’Did I tell you to stop?’’

‘’No, but—’’ 

‘’Then get back to business.’’ He pressed his cock against your mouth, but you didn’t let him in. ‘’Or…maybe I should call Topper and send him a link to your side business?’’

You sat on your heels, letting out a defeated sigh. ‘’My jaw hurts, okay? I can’t anymore,’’ you explained, although doubting Rafe would be compassionate. He didn't care about you, he just wanted to empty his balls. ‘’But maybe we can’t look at other options?’’ You pulled down the front of your shirt, exposing your bra to him.

Rafe's eyes darted down your chest, catching his bottom lip between his teeth knowing what was beneath your bra. ‘’I'm listening.’’

But before the negotiations could begin, you heard the apartment door opening: Topper was back. Quickly, you fixed your shirt and wiped your mouth with the back of your hand while Rafe pulled his sweatpants back up.

—

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[gammasnippets]

Drive T

SNSD Kim Taeyeon x Male Reader

12,260 words (Co-edited by @capslocked and @sparkynsfws)

Wimbledon—one of the most prestigious tennis tournaments in the world, known for its rich history and iconic traditions. It's the highlight of the tennis season, where the best players from around the globe compete for the coveted title on the hallowed grass courts of the All England Club. This is where names are made, and where legends are born. From casual fans to hardcore tennis enthusiasts, everyone is eager to witness the thrilling matches and the breathtaking displays of skill the players unleash on the courts. And with only a few months to prepare, you do your best to be in your best physical and mental condition for the coming tournament.

That is… If you're one of the qualifying players.

Something suddenly hits your head, snapping you out of your daydreaming. It was a tennis ball, rolling down your face. It's not even a hard hit, but it sure is enough to knock you back to reality. You then scan the tennis court looking for the culprit. Not far from you stands a woman, one hand on her racket and the other on her hip, and she doesn't look pleased.

"Hey! Quit your daydreaming, will you?" says the woman, sounding annoyed.

"That was uncalled for, you know?" you retort as you rub the point of impact, a spark of irritation in your voice.

"I just finished warming up here and the next thing I know, you're in your own world!" she snaps back, clearly unapologetic for her errant shot.

"Well, if only you didn't arrive late, we could've started our practice session on time," you reply, trying to maintain your composure.

The woman doesn't seem to like your response and walks towards you, her face slowly turning red.

"So it's my fault that you scheduled our practice session at such an inconvenient time?"

"What? You told me that you're only available today and that you really wanted to practice," you protest, feeling both confused and frustrated.

"At fucking midnight?" she exclaims, raising her voice.

"Well, it's only an hour after…"

"11 PM, 12 AM… Whatever! It's late in the evening, you dumbass!"

She kinda has a point. Despite the great discount you received for renting the tennis court at nighttime, you begin to realize that scheduling a session close to midnight wasn't the wisest decision.And she has every right to be angry about the inconvenience.

You take a step back, realizing that this argument is getting out of hand.

"Alright, alright… I'm sorry, Taeyeon-noona. I should've checked with you first."

To your relief, her anger softens slightly, and she sighs.

"Well, we're way past that now. Might as well make use of the time while we're here."

"Thanks for understanding…"

"Just don't you ever do this again," she says as she points her racket at you, her tone still sharp. "Or I'll make sure to hit you harder next time."

"Okay. I get it," you reply, feeling intimidated by her fiery demeanor.

You were always intimidated by Taeyeon's fiery demeanor. As your former teacher and tennis club advisor, she's known to be as strict and disciplined. You can't forget the torture she put you through, but that didn't sway you from leaving the sport you're passionate about. And for better, or more likely worse, you and Taeyeon are still in touch after all these years. Maybe you could've found a better partner, but you've never been more comfortable with anyone else other than her.

You and Taeyeon proceed to continue your practice session on the tennis court. Both of you are determined to make the most of the remaining time and improve your skills, ignoring the tension that still lingers in the air. The court fills with the sound of powerful swings, focused footwork, and the occasional grunt of exertion as you both push yourselves to the limit. Well-deserved breaks are taken to catch your breath, sip some water, and exchange a few friendly jokes amidst the intensity.

After a few rounds of intense practice, the two of you decide to take a much longer break.

"Fuck… I need a break," you pant, collapsing onto a nearby bench.

"Jeez. You're tired already?" Taeyeon teases you, as desperate for air as you are.

"You're the one to talk," you retorted, throwing the tease back at her.

"Well, you're the one who keeps on making me run all over the court!" she grumbles as she retires beside you, pouting her lips.

"You gotta do what you gotta do," you reply, smirking.

"Yet I still won," she boasts, a smug grin spreading across her face.

"I only let you win, you know?" you shrug nonchalantly.

Taeyeon laughs out loud at your cocky remark.

"As if! You always trip when you're returning my drop shots."

"Hey… It only happened once."

"More like twice!"

You raise your hands in mock surrender.

"Okay… It happened twice. Happy now?"

"You bet," she continues to laugh. "God, that was funny."

Taeyeon can't help but giggle at your mistakes during the game. As much as you find her laughter infectious, her teasing you might have hit a nerve. You want to retaliate by telling her how equally awful she was at returning her serves. But maybe she deserves this after the earlier exchange.

"So, wanna do a few more rounds?" you propose to Taeyeon, eager to win against her.

"Already? Can't we relax a bit more?" she asks, her body still slumped against the bench.

"Come on. We still have a lot of time left," you urge her, giving her a good nudge with your elbow.

"Exactly! Can't we use the time to rest longer?" she complains, faking an exhausted expression.

You sneer at her, raising an eyebrow.

"Noona, please. Don't be such a baby. You're too old for that," you tell her.

She then lets out a loud gasp. You obviously hit a nerve.

"Hey! I'm not old, you fuck!" she exclaims, raising her voice.

You chuckle. "Yeah, but you're definitely older than me."

"I'm only 34!" she yells, her cheeks turning slightly red.

"You can even pass as my aunt," you joke, unable to resist pushing her buttons even further.

In a hurry, she ejects herself from the bench, ready to argue back.

"Listen here, you little shit. You can joke all you want, but I can kick your ass right here, right now."

Seems like your teasing had the wrong effect on Taeyeon. As if a fuse inside her was lit, she's ready to fight you with words, fists, and probably anything else she can get her hands on.

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry," you apologize, trying to appease her.

But Taeyeon's not having it, and she's still fuming.

"That's not gonna cut it, you asshole," she continues to rant. "Y'know what? Let's make this interesting."

You don't know what's going through her head, but whatever it is, you don't like it.

"What? Interesting, how?"

"Since you think I'm such a weak old lady, even though I've beaten you many times…"

"We're almost even," you interject, but she's quick to cut you off.

"Shut up! You're not helping your case," she barks, glaring at you.

You shut your mouth and let her finish.

"Anyway, I bet I can beat you in a singles match," she declares, her tone serious.

The proposition sounds appealing to you, but it does feel like you're being manipulated.

"You can't be serious, right?"

"Do I look like I'm not?"

You scan her face carefully. Her expression doesn't waver and looks dead serious. You begin to regret messing with her earlier, and you're unsure what to say next.

"Well?" she asks again, expecting a clear answer.

You can't help but let out a deep sigh.

"Okay… What's on the line, then?"

"The loser has to follow the winner's every command."

You're a little taken aback by the wager, not because it's particularly absurd, but rather that you can't believe how quickly she's able to come up with this kind of proposition.

"That… That's quite a bold bet," you say, feeling a bit intimidated by the conditions.

"Are you backing out already? I thought you're a better player than that."

"No, I'm not! I'm just… Surprised," you stutter, unsure if you're able to take the challenge.

"Don't be such a chicken," she taunts you, a devilish smirk forming on her lips.

The teaser now becomes teased, and her expression is the one that you would never want to see. She's ready to fight you, and not just with her words. You can sense her desire for victory emanating out of her, and that scares the hell out of you.

Suddenly, immense pressure is crushing you down, and you begin to doubt yourself. Taeyeon's always been a formidable player, even with her age and size. If it weren't for her teaching you, you wouldn't have learned all the tricks that you've used to win many matches. You start to regret your decision to play with her, and you have no choice but to swallow the lump in your throat.

"Alright… You've got a deal," you agree, taking the challenge.

She gives a smug grin.

"That's what I wanted to hear," she chuckles. "Well, we've got plenty of time. Shall we have a nice game?"

"I guess so…"

The two of you prepare for the match, putting your rackets and other equipment away. As you're preparing, a thought pops into your mind, and you have a burning question to ask Taeyeon.

"You do realize that a singles match is longer than doubles, right?"

"Well, we can adjust the rules. This isn't an official match, after all."

"Alright. So how do you want to do this? Best out of three sets?"

"Sounds fair enough."

With the agreement, you and Taeyeon prepare to take the court once again. Both of you are determined to win and get the advantage over the other.

You set off the game with your first serve, hitting a fastball to the far corner of the service box. Taeyeon returns with a strong swing, hitting a high-speed shot that you're unable to defend. She takes the first point.

"Shit," you curse under your breath, as the scoreboard shows 15-0.

You try not to lose your focus as you return to the baseline and prepare for the next serve.

You decide to be more careful, not wanting to repeat the same mistake. Your next serve is a lot slower and hits the back of the service box. Taeyeon's return is weaker, allowing you to defend easily. With the advantage, you go on the offense and score a point.

"Yes!" you celebrate, pumping your fist.

"Hey. Not bad," Taeyeon concedes, not wanting to praise you.

"You can't expect me to let you have the advantage all the time," you brag, not letting her dampen your spirit.

"Try me."

Those two words somehow have a strange effect on you, and your confidence quickly wavers.

You try to be a little bit more aggressive on your next serve, and she's forced to make a mistake, throwing the ball off bounds. The score is now tied at 15-30.

The two of you continue your game, fighting tooth and nail to get the advantage. You give your best and so does her. Neither of you are willing to let the other gain any sort of upper hand.

The score eventually reads 40-30, with Taeyeon holding the lead. A single point would end the set and give her a huge advantage.

The volleys between you and Taeyeon are fast and aggressive, but with a strong swing, she manages to catch you off guard, scoring the winning point. She wins the first set.

She cheers at her victory, a wide grin spread across her face.

"Not bad. Didn't think I'd get the first point, huh?"

"Yeah, but the first set doesn't matter," you retort, not wanting to get discouraged.

"Is that so, hotshot? You can try."

You grit your teeth, and you're not sure whether Taeyeon's taunt was meant to annoy you, but her words had its desired effect. You're now ready to prove her wrong and win the second set.

She starts off the second set, preparing for her next serve.

"Let's see if you can return this one," she challenges you with a sly smile on her face.

"Bring it," you reply, your focus unwavering.

Taeyeon lets out a fast serve, aiming for the corner of the service box. Luckily for you, you manage to read her serve and position yourself perfectly to return it with a strong forehand. A few quick exchanges later, you score with a cross-court shot to start the second set with a point in your favor.

It's now your turn to serve. You perform a tricky flat serve, hoping to catch Taeyeon off guard. She anticipates your serve, returning it with a well-placed backhand slice that lands just over the net. In your hesitation to reach the ball, you mistakenly returned it too high and Taeyeon seizes the opportunity, smashing with a powerful overhead shot. The score is now tied at 15-15 in the second set.

You didn't let this setback discourage you. Instead, you double down on your serve, determined to not repeat the same mistake. Taeyeon is also focused and prepared to return your next serve.

With a swift motion, you throw another fast serve, and Taeyeon returns it with a powerful forehand, forcing you to make a mistake. But you managed to return the ball at an awkward angle, giving her a difficult ball to return. You seize the opportunity and score the next point.

The tension between you and Taeyeon is at an all-time high as the second set moves closer to its conclusion. Each point is fought fiercely, and there are a lot of close calls. Neither of you is willing to concede even a single point.

With both of you on the verge of exhaustion, the match is now coming down to the wire.

The score is now 15-40. You need a single point to win the second set.

You have the opportunity to serve. Taeyeon prepares herself, ready to receive your next serve.

"Here goes," you mutter, trying to psych yourself up. With a powerful serve, you launch the ball over the net. You watch anxiously as the ball flies toward the opposite side of the court. She reacts quickly, running towards the ball and returning with a strong forehand. You are forced to return the ball with a lob.

In the air, the ball curves towards the left, landing just outside the lines. You can only hope that Taeyeon isn't able to return it. But with her usual finesse, she returns the ball with a backhand lob, landing just in front of you. It's your turn to seal the deal with a powerful backhand of your own that hits the corner of the court, earning you the final point of the second set.

You try to keep your composure despite the win, but deep down you're ecstatic.

"Nice job," she compliments you.

You only give her a nod in return.

"So, shall we start the last set?"

"Yeah. Let's."

The chill of the midnight air dissipates as the final set begins. With both of you equally fired up and determined to win, you prepare for the final round.

This is it. The last set of the match. There's no time to lose.

You take the serve, performing a tricky jump serve that she struggles to defend. With a powerful swing, you hit a fastball that she's unable to return. You take the first point.

Taeyeon's serving next. With a fast serve, she catches you off guard and you're unable to defend her serve. The score is now 15-15 in the final set.

The pressure is mounting on you as the set progresses. You want to win. You both do. But there's something in her that drains you of your will. You're not sure if she's just playing a good mind game, or if she really has the upper hand.

The turn to serve goes back to you. You're determined not to let Taeyeon get a free pass. With a slow flat serve, you try to catch her off guard. She returns it with a well-timed forehand. You quickly move towards the ball and return it with a sharp topspin that lands just inside the line. She's unable to return the ball and you score a point.

The score is now 30-15 in your favor. The momentum is shifting in your direction. But it feels as though it isn't.

Taeyeon's serving next, and she looks determined to break the momentum. She hits a fast serve, hoping to catch you off guard. You return it with a powerful forehand. But her next shot is even faster, hitting a topspin that forces you to return it with a weak lob.

At that point, she brandishes her trademark move.

She rushes towards the ball, winding up for a smash. You prepare yourself to counter her attack… Only for Taeyeon to swing her racket sideways as it falls down, hitting the ball with a strong topspin. In a rush, you chase after the ball, but it bounces erratically, almost at a 90-degree angle. Before you can do anything, the ball lands outside the line.

“Drive T” is what she calls it. Not only does she swings her arms in a T shape, but the topspin she generates causes the ball to draw a cross, or rather a small letter T, as it bounces uncontrollably on the court. It’s a move that is very hard to predict, both to the players and spectators alike. You’ve seen her used that technique on many occasions, both to intimidate her opponents and to finish the game quickly. It is her dangerous weapon.

And she just used it against you.

Your jaw hangs open in shock. You can't believe she did that.

"Now that's a topspin!" Taeyeon boasts, laughing.

As much as you want to respond to her, you're not sure if you can. As "friendly" as this game is, you can't help but feel a creeping sense of dread at how serious this is turning out.

The score is now tied 30-30. The tension is getting even higher, and your mind is racing. You want to win. You need to win.

You take a deep breath as you prepare for your next serve. As calm as you can be, you send the ball towards her with a powerful serve that sails all the way to the other end of the net. But with her quick reflexes, Taeyeon effortlessly returns the serve with a perfectly executed backhand. You send it back with a swift backhand of your own, making her chase the ball towards the sideline. She manages to get to the ball just in time, and with a flick of her wrist, she sends a sharp topspin towards your corner.

Your heart races as you anticipate the spin and speed of the approaching ball, adjusting your movement to counter her shot with a controlled forehand. However, as you send the ball back, she has positioned herself near the net, swinging it downwards with incredible power and speed. You already put all your strength in returning the previous shot that you have no more time left to react accordingly, making the ball slip past you and land out of your reach.

Taeyeon grunts with satisfaction as her shot gives her a crucial point, bringing the score to 40-30 in her favor.

You curse under your breath, realizing that you may have bit off more than you can chew. But you have no option to back down now. All that's left is to turn the tables and win.

You take another deep breath as you wait for her to make her next move.

Your eyes remain locked on Taeyeon as she prepares to serve, her intense focus indicating that she's not going to make this easy for you. What happens next is like a blur as the ball immediately zooms towards you the moment she tosses it into the air, not even letting it wait for gravity to pull it down. With her on match point, she has all the reasons to end this game as quickly as possible.

You quickly run to intercept the ball, swatting it with a powerful forehand. She stays on her toes, moving swiftly to return your shot with a skillful backhand slice that barely clears the net. The distance is quite the challenge, but it's something you can still manage. You make a sprint towards the net, just in time to hit it back with a drop shot that catches Taeyeon off guard. With her nimble feet, she manages to reach the ball, though she has to dive in for the last few inches just to keep the rally going. And with a desperate lob, she sends the ball soaring high into the air, giving you enough time to deliver a crushing overhead smash that lands just inside the baseline, completely out of Taeyeon's reach.

As the ball connects with the court, a sense of triumph washes over you, pumping your fist in the air. You managed to buy yourself some room to breathe in this fiery match and gain a much-needed point, leveling the score at 40-40. Taeyeon recovers herself from her dive, letting out a sigh as she recovers her breathing. You're exhausted yourself, struggling to catch your breath after the intense rally. But there's no time to rest. You lock eyes with her, both of your eyes burning with determination to win over the other. The next serve could very well be the turning point of the entire match.

Once again, it's your turn to serve. Everything is suddenly hazy as if the world around you blurs into a complete mess of colors. All that's clear in your eyes are the ball in your hands, the lines on the court, and the woman in front of you. It could be the adrenaline. It could be the fear of losing. It could be anything. But none of that matters. Send the ball her way, swing it back if she dares to return it, repeat.

The next few rounds are nothing but intense back-and-forth as you and Taeyeon fight for every point. The ball flies across the court in a flurry of precise shots and strategic placement. You're tired as hell, and maybe, so is she. But neither of you can afford to let up even for a moment, not even an inch, as the score remains neck and neck.

After a few deuces and grueling rallies, the tension on the court reaches its peak. She has managed to bring the score to what could potentially be the final point of the entire match. You're both sweating profusely, your bodies glistening under the harsh stadium lights. The cold air that should be a reprieve feels suffocating against your heated skin. She could be on her last legs, but you're kind of on the same page.

You prepare yourself as Taeyeon prepares her to serve, her eyes locked on yours like a hawk, unwavering and intense. Her serve is swift, darting through the air with deadly accuracy. You react quickly, heading forward to meet the ball with a powerful forehand return. She then easily steps into position, returning the ball with a soft backhand shot. You match her shot with a well-executed slice, aiming to throw her off balance. But she still manages to reach the ball with a quick flick of her wrist, sending it sailing over the net with surprising speed and precision.

As the ball hurtles towards you, you summon every ounce of your pent-up aggression to smack the ball back with an explosive topspin shot, making the ball draw a sharp curve towards the sideline. This is all you have left. You can feel your strength draining as you shout your heart out with that final, desperate shot.

Unfortunately… Your tough opponent, Taeyeon, is right there, ready and waiting.

In a matter of seconds, the distance between her and the ball closes as she lunges forward, her body contorting with the grace and agility of a seasoned athlete. And as she swings her racket in a cross through the air, you know that she isn't just going to return the ball - she's sealing the deal with her Drive T. She hits the ball with such power that it spins wildly as soon as it's airborne. You watch it making its landing not far from you and with your heart pounding, you scramble to retrieve it. But with the ball's unpredictable spin, it bounces away from you instead of it landing in your control.

And as the ball bounces down to a stop, Taeyeon wins the match, winning 2 sets to 1.

"Yay! I won!"

She screams in joy and hops up and down with excitement as if all her exhaustion has instantly evaporated. Meanwhile, you collapse to the ground, completely outplayed and spent. As she celebrates her victory, she notices that you've been anchored to the ground. She makes her way towards you, skipping lightly in joy.

Trying not to feel bitter about your defeat, you raise your hand, giving her a thumbs up and a genuine smile. She responds in kind, before extending her hand to help you up.

"Well, looks like you took the match. That was nice," you say as you sit up, catching your breath as you try to compose yourself after the intense match.

"Thanks. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I just need a moment to recover. My legs feel like they're burning, though."

"Oh. Same here… But I'm good."

"Damn. How do you even do that?"

"I told you many times to work on your legs! I always tell you to do more than just jog," she scolds you as if losing to her wasn't enough.

"Alright, alright," you reply, rolling your eyes. "I'll start next week."

"Well you better be," she chuckles, tapping her racket lightly against your shoulder.

You chuckle amidst the exhaustion, the frustration you felt at losing to Taeyeon fading away.

"So, is that your dare for me?" you ask her.

"Hmmm?"

"You won, right?"

"Oh! Right! The bet!" Taeyeon's eyes then widened in realization.

You shake your head lightly, amused by her sudden forgetfulness.

"And you still deny that you're old—ow!"

She smacks you again with her racket, albeit harder this time.

"What did I just say about calling me old?"

"Okay, okay! Jeez, what a killjoy," you mutter, rubbing your shoulder.

"What was that?" she taunts, preparing to hit you again.

"Nothing! I said nothing," you quickly respond, trying to diffuse the situation.

"Good!" she exclaims, giggling.

"Now, what do you want me to do?" you repeat, trying not to provoke her.

Her attitude changes quickly.

"You're actually gonna go through with it?"

"I mean, you won, so…"

"Are you sure?"

"Come on, just tell me what you want me to do," you urge her.

She pauses for a moment, contemplating the terms of her victory.

"Well, since I beat you pretty badly…"

"That was close," you protest, only to earn a glare from her.

"It wasn't. Now shut up and listen."

You swallow the lump in your throat and nod.

"Y'know what? You look like a tired mess right there. Let's head over to the bench and I'll think of a good prize."

"But my body's still—"

She lets out a loud, exasperated sigh.

"Alright. Get up, you lousy ass," she extends her hand, offering to pull you up.

You take it and let her lead the way to the benches. It's not that far, but the short walk to the benches is enough to make your knees wobble and legs ache. The two of you collapse onto the bench, finally able to relax and rest for a bit.

"Jeez, I didn't think the match was gonna be that hard. You did really well," she says, giving you a soft pat on the shoulder.

"Well… I was against you, after all. Of course, it'll be hard," you respond, your tone slightly annoyed.

"Hey! Don't get me wrong. It's still a nice game."

"I guess. Thanks," you say, shrugging.

A moment of silence ensues, and the two of you sit quietly, basking in the cool air. Despite feeling sore, a little break is all you need to recharge after the intense game. You then look at Taeyeon, and she doesn't seem to show any signs of exhaustion, despite sweating profusely and having her breath ragged after the match.

"Say, how come you don't look as tired as I am?" you ask her, breaking the silence.

"Well, for starters, I've got a lot more years of experience than you," she quips, grinning smugly.

You roll your eyes and sigh, too tired to give a smart retort.

"But seriously, though. You should take better care of your body. You're still young," she says, her tone sounding more like a concerned mother than a friend.

"You've been saying that for a while now," you grumble.

"Well, that's because I was your teacher! Jeez! Don't be so stubborn," she protests, giving your shoulder a light shove.

"I'm not being stubborn. I'm just tired," you then let out another deep breath. "You took all the air out of me"

"Exactly. And that's why I'm telling you to take care of your body better," she says, her tone firm.

"Okay, fine," you concede.

"Now, shall we move on?"

"Sure. Let's talk about my dare," you say, eager to finally know what she wants.

"Right. Are you sure you're in on this?"

"I'm sure. Yeah," you assure her.

"100%? No take-backs, okay?"

"If it's not anything too extreme."

"Don't worry. It's nothing like that."

You look at her, and she smirks at you. Something tells you that you'll regret this, but curiosity gets the better of you.

"Fine. Shoot it."

"Pull down your shorts."

Your jaw hangs open. You expected her to ask for a silly dare, like a funny photo or something along those lines. But this? You didn't expect this at all.

"H-huh? W-what did you just say?" you stammer, your cheeks burning red.

"Come on. It's not gonna kill you."

"But… That's—"

"Just a little fun, really."

You're speechless, your eyes wide as you process the words.

"I… I don't think I can do that."

"Hey. The deal was the loser has to do everything the winner asks, right? You lost. So, do it."

You swallow the lump in your throat and sigh. There's no getting around this.

"Okay… Fine," you reluctantly agree, slowly sliding down your shorts.

The fabric brushes against your skin, sending shivers up your spine. Your heart beats fast, your palms sweating profusely as you slowly reveal more and more of your bare thighs. Your boxers are the only thing separating your modesty from the woman sitting beside you, and you can't deny her the sight of your growing erection.

Taeyeon's lips curl into a satisfied grin, and she bites her lower lip as she sees the tent forming between your legs.

"You're really turned on by this, huh?" she says, teasing you.

"It… It's not like that, I swear."

"Sure, whatever you say," she giggles.

"So… Is this it? Did I pass the dare?" you ask, trying to change the subject.

"Well, technically… But now I'm interested in something else," she replies, her voice dropping an octave.

"And? What would that be?"

"Let's just say I want to see what's underneath those boxers."

Your heart sinks to the pit of your stomach, and you instinctively cross your legs.

"Noona… There could be people watching us," you tell her, scanning the entire area.

"It's 3 AM. Do you think those guards will even bother walking around at this hour? No one's gonna see," she reasons.

"But…"

"The deal?"

"Okay, fine. I'll do it."

Slowly, you take a deep breath and reach down for your boxers.

"Ugh… What am I doing?" you mumble, cursing at yourself.

You grab the hem and pull down the fabric grazing against your shaft. Your erection springs up, freed from the confines of your underwear.

"Wow. Now that's quite a view," Taeyeon chuckles, ogling your exposed member.

You turn away, too embarrassed to look her in the eye.

"I'm sorry. This is so embarrassing," you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Hey. Don't be. Especially when you have this…" she bites her lip, her eyes fixated on your dick. "Big thing right there."

Your cheeks burn a bright red, and you feel like you could explode.

"You're kidding me, right?"

"Of course not! Come on, you can't tell me it's not hot."

You stay silent, unable to answer.

"Alright. Lemme suck that," she says, leaning in closer to you.

"W-what? Y-you can't be serious!"

"Hey. No take-backs."

"But this is—"

"Listen. You clearly look like you're not in on this."

"I… I didn't say that…"

"So? What's with the hesitation?"

"I-it's just that… This is kind of sudden," you reply, unable to think straight.

"Then let me ease you into it," she says, grabbing your dick with her hand.

Your breath hitches, the sudden contact of her soft hand against your sensitive shaft taking you by surprise. She slowly moves her hand up and down, gently massaging your dick. You can't help but let out a low moan as her fingers run across the tip, sending shivers down your spine.

"How does that feel?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I-I don't know…" you manage to say, your mind in a daze.

She smirks at your reaction, totally getting turned on by your response.

"You did your best so… I'll give you a consolation prize."

"H-huh? What do you mean?"

Before you can say anything, she leans in, her face just inches away from your cock.

"Wait… You can't be serious. You're going to—"

"Let me give you a little treat. You can tell me to stop after, but I hope you won't,” she says, her warm breath brushing against your shaft. “It'll be a shame, really,"

You're speechless, your mouth hanging open as you stare at her in disbelief.

"Well, here I go," she announces, leaning forward and enveloping your cock with her lips.

The sudden warmth sends a shock through your body, and you let out a moan, throwing your head back in pleasure. She starts sucking on the tip, and her tongue swirls around the head, lapping up the beads of precum. You can't believe it, but it feels so good. Your breathing quickens as she continues to suck, taking your dick deeper into her mouth. She moans against your cock, and you can feel her voice vibrating through your shaft.

"Oh, fuck…" you curse, the pleasure driving you insane.

She then grabs the base of your shaft with her hand and starts stroking you in sync with her mouth. The sensation is overwhelming, and you can't help but grab a fistful of her hair, gripping it tightly. She picks up the pace, her hand moving faster as her head bobs up and down. Her eyes lock with yours, and she's clearly enjoying this. You can see the lust in her eyes, and it's all too much for you.

The pressure builds up, your mind goes blank, and all you can think about is the intense pleasure coursing through your body. Your muscles tense up, and before you know it, your body starts shaking uncontrollably. You can feel your balls tightening, and the urge to cum is overwhelming.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum!"

With one final thrust, you unload your seed into her mouth. Taeyeon suddenly looks surprised as you unleash a torrent of cum, filling her mouth. She then pulls out, coughing, the excess dripping down her chin.

"Sorry! I didn't know if you were ready," you apologize, worried that you might have forced her.

She continues to cough, and she wipes the excess cum off her face, taking a moment to catch her breath.

"It's okay. I was kinda taken by surprise, but it's fine," she manages to say, giving you a reassuring smile.

"I'm so sorry. I just couldn't hold it any longer," you apologize again, embarrassed by what happened.

"I told you it's okay," she tells you.

"Well… If you say so."

"And besides… It's not every day that I get to do it with a virgin," she winks as she lets out a soft laugh.

"Hey! I'm no virgin!" you protest, trying to defend your ego.

"Is that so?" she teases, raising an eyebrow playfully.

"I… I've experienced this before," you mutter.

"Sure, and that's why I got a mouthful," she chuckles, licking her lips.

"I was… I was holding out!" you retort.

"But of course," she laughs. "Just admit that you're a total virgin."

You're left speechless, unable to defend yourself. She just grins at you, clearly amused by your reaction. You want to say something, but she has you beat.

"Alright… Off to the next one!" she then exclaims, looking rather excited.

"Next one?"

"You didn't think I was just gonna leave you like this, did you? We're just getting started," she winks, giving your dick a squeeze.

"Wait, what?"

"That was just the warm-up. I have a lot of other things planned for us."

"Like what?"

"Let's just say this is gonna be the night of your life. And by the time the sun rises, you'll be thanking me,"

"I'm not so sure about this…"

"Trust me. I know what I'm doing," she reassures you, flashing you a devious smile.

She lets go of your dick. You feel relieved that her tight grip is no longer on your throbbing cock, but also a bit disappointed at the loss of her warm touch. She then takes off her clothes, exposing her voluptuous body. Her breasts are barely covered by an orange lace bra, and her hips are accentuated by a matching thong. You gulp as you take in the sight, and you can feel your dick getting even harder.

"What's wrong? Getting nervous?" she asks, giggling.

"Uh, yeah. This is really sudden. I'm not sure what's going on," you admit, unable to look away from her gorgeous body.

"Come on, it's nothing you can't handle. Just enjoy it," she says, grabbing your hand and placing it on her waist.

You can't deny the electricity that runs through your body the moment her skin makes contact with yours. Her body is so soft and warm, and it feels so good to touch her. It's intoxicating at the least, and you can't help but be swept up by the moment.

"Now, I'll let you have a taste of my body. You better make the most of it," she whispers, her lips brushing against your ear.

You let out a soft moan, the sensation driving you wild.

"So? What are you waiting for?"

"I…"

"It's okay. You can touch me," she assures you, guiding your hands towards her breasts.

"But, Noona…"

"Touch me more."

You hesitate for a moment, but she urges you on, and you give in.

Your fingers trace the outline of her bra, feeling her erect nipples through the fabric. As if by instinct, you gently squeeze her breasts, eliciting a moan from her.

"Mmmh… That's it. More," she purrs, arching her back.

Your heart races as her breasts push against your palms, her nipples rubbing against the thin material of her bra. The friction feels incredible, and the pleasure drives you crazy. You're not sure how much longer you can hold out, but you don't want it to end.

"You're so cute. You look like you're enjoying this," she teases, smiling.

Guilty as charged.

"Just relax. I'll take care of everything."

She then presses her lips against yours, her tongue pushing past your lips. Your tongues dance, and you savor her sweet taste. She then nibbles on your lower lip, and you can't help but moan.

"Nggh! Noona, wait," you breathe out, pulling away from her.

"Hmm? What's wrong?"

"I… I think this is too fast."

She giggles. "Awh. Poor thing."

She then cups your face with her hand and kisses you again, a much slower, passionate kiss this time. You feel her smile against your lips, and it sends a shiver down your spine. It feels so good, so addicting. Yet you don't want to admit it.

"Taeyeon-noona, I…"

"Do you want to take it slow?"

You only gave her a nod.

"There. Just tell me what you want."

She then reaches back and unhooks her bra, tossing it to the side. Her bare breasts glisten under the dim lighting, and you can't help but stare in awe.

"There. I hope this evens us out," she smirks. You can see her cheeks blushing as she puts her magnificent assets on full display.

"Y-you don't have to, y'know? I'm fine with—"

Before you can utter another word, she pulls you towards her, pressing your face against her plump, supple breasts. Muffled, you try to push back, but she holds you firmly against her, not letting go. The warmth of her skin and the softness of her breasts overwhelm your senses, slowly melting your hesitations away.

Before you know it, you feel your hands explore the rest of her exposed body, gliding across everything you can reach.

She can't help but laugh and moan simultaneously as you explore her body.

"Getting braver, aren’t we?"

You choose not to answer and instead let your actions speak for you.

Taeyeon's skin feels so soft and smooth, and it's a wonder to touch. You can't help but want to touch her even more, to explore every inch of her. You suck on her erect nipples, and her breath hitches, letting out a soft moan.

"That's it. Take it all in," she whispers, running her fingers through your hair.

Your heart races as her scent fills your nose, and it's driving you crazy. You can't help but want more, and you feel yourself getting lost in the moment.

"Taeyeon-noona…"

"Shhhh… Don't say a word. Just enjoy it," she replies, her voice low and seductive.

Obliging, you continue to taste her, relishing in the sweet, salty taste of her skin. Your hands travel across her body, touching every inch of her. She bites her lip and arches her back as you trace the curve of her spine, and her breathing quickens as you explore her thighs.

"Oh, fuck…" she breathes out, her voice barely above a whisper.

Your hands then find their way to her butt, and you squeeze her cheeks, feeling the soft, firm flesh in your hands. She looks at you with lustful eyes, and you can see the desire written all over her face.

"Oh, my… You're getting good at this," she purrs, smiling seductively.

You blush slightly, her compliment clearly lifting your confidence. You shoot a smile back at her, fueled with confidence and hunger for more. She smirks at your newfound boldness, welcoming your hunger with equal enthusiasm.

Your lips lock with hers for another round of torrid passion, the heat between your bodies intensifying with each passing second. Your tongues dance in a fiery tango, exploring every crevice and making each other elicit a fervent moan. Neither of you is backing down, eager to win over the other as if your earlier spar wasn't enough.

"Noona, you're… Amazing," you manage to gasp between heated kisses, unable to contain the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your body.

She smirks. "You're no slouch either."

"But, you… I…"

"Mhhh… Don't stop now," Taeyeon whispers, her voice dripping with need.

"But let me just…" you struggle to remove your shirt despite the urgency of the moment.

With her expert guidance, you quickly shed your shirt and throw it aside, giving your partner an unobstructed view of your bare chest.

"There we go. Better?"

"Yeah. You were on top of me so I had trouble taking it off." you jest, a playful smirk spreading across your face.

She then chuckles, hitting you playfully on the shoulder.

"And you blame me for that?"

"Why not? You keep on pushing me down."

"Jeez… I'm not that heavy, you know?"

"I know, I know. You're just so aggressive," you tease, running your fingers through her skin.

Taeyeon coos at your touch, her body pulsating with desire.

"Hmmm? Is that your way of flirting with me?"

You shrug. "Well… It's worth a shot."

She replies with a soft chuckle.

"Consider it a successful shot," she breathes, her voice laced with lust.

You blush, feeling a surge of pride at having successfully aroused Taeyeon.

"Well… Thank you."

"Then let's get back to it, shall we?" She purrs, her hands eagerly tracing the contours of your chest all the way to your abdomen. You shiver at her touch, goosebumps appearing on your skin.

She then looks at you with an inviting gaze, and her lips curl into a sly grin. You can't help but stare in awe, mesmerized by her beauty.

"W-what? Do I have something on my face?"

"No, silly," she giggles. "I want you to touch me, too."

"Oh. Right."

"I can't be the only one enjoying this, y'know?"

"My bad, noona."

You resume your passionate makeout session. The two of you moan against each other's lips, exploring each other's bodies. The two of you are so lost in the moment that the world around you begins to fade, and all that matters is the heat, the electricity, the passion.

"Fuck. You taste so good," Taeyeon moans, her voice dripping with lust.

"Mmmh… You do too. Fuck," you reply, the heat and desire growing within you.

"But seriously…"

"Hmmm?"

"Learn to get a hint," she giggles.

"Heh. Sorry," you mumble, trying to regain control. "I was kinda lost."

"Understandable," she snickers. "It's your first time, after all."

"H-hey. You're making me sound like a virgin."

"Well… You kinda are."

"Come on now…"

Taeyeon can't help but chuckle at your response, amused by your reaction.

"Fine. Let's not talk about that."

"I'm not that innocent, you know," you retort, pouting.

"Really, now?"

"Y-yeah. Really."

"So you wouldn't mind if we take things further… Right?"

You gulp, suddenly aware of what she means.

"Well… I guess?"

"Good."

She then reaches down and slowly pulls down her panties. You just realize how wet she is as you stare in awe. She then grabs your hand and leads it to her core. You hesitate for a moment, but she guides you, urging you to take things further.

"It's okay. You can touch me."

You gently cup her mound, feeling the slickness of her wet folds. Her pussy is hot, and her juices flow freely. She shudders as your fingers brush against her sensitive bud, and her body tenses up.

"Yes… That's it!" she moans, biting her lip.

"Is this it? Are you sure?"

"Mhmm… Just go ahead."

Your fingers explore her core, and you find her swollen clit. You rub her bundle of nerves in a circular motion, eliciting a sharp gasp from her.

"Oh, fuck! That feels so good."

"Are you sure? Am I doing it right?"

"Yes! Just keep going," she moans, her voice barely above a whisper.

You increase the pace, applying a bit more pressure. She writhes under your touch, her body trembling with pleasure.

"F-fuck… Y-yes!" she moans, her voice shaking.

The heat is building within you, and you can't hold back any longer. You decide to switch positions, with Taeyeon now resting her body on the bench. At this view, she looks so small, so inviting. You proceed to kiss her thighs as your hand continues its assault.

"Mmmh! Oh shit! Yes! Keep going!"

You then kiss her core, licking her wet folds. She shrieks, her voice ringing in your ears. She grabs a fistful of your hair, holding on for dear life. You then lick her clit, eliciting a loud moan from her. She can't hold on much longer, her body writhing in ecstasy.

"Fuck! You're so good! I'm… I'm close!"

You can't help but be proud, and you redouble your efforts, sucking on her clit. She arches her back, and she screams, her orgasm tearing through her body.

"I'm gonna cum! Shit! I'm gonna fucking—aghh!"

You watch as her body spasms, and her legs quiver. She rides out her orgasm, her body trembling with each wave of pleasure. She finally collapses, panting, her body slick with sweat.

"Holy shit. That was… Amazing," she breathes, her voice shaky.

"Did… Did I do good?"

"Of course, you did. Not bad for a first-timer."

"Well… Thanks."

"Now, let me return the favor," she says, a smirk spreading across her face.

"What do you mean?"

"It's your turn now," she says, licking her lips.

"B-but I already—"

She interrupts, putting a finger against your lips.

"I know you have some left in you" Her hands move down towards your privates, massaging every bit of it. "And besides…"

She then leans over and whispers to your ear, her voice seductive.

"I'm still not satisfied."

As if on cue, you can feel your member throbbing in response, as if beckoning her to touch you even more.

"Looks like someone's ready for more," she giggles.

"Hey… I'm just sensitive," you protest, looking at her with your best puppy-dog eyes.

Taeyeon lets out a laugh, seemingly caught off-guard by your adorable attempt at innocence.

"Oh, cut that out. That doesn't suit you in the slightest," she playfully retorts.

"I just thought I'd give it a try," you reply, looking disappointed.

"Don't you ever do that again, alright?"

"Why not?"

She then pulls you closer. You can see the sheer desire in her eyes burning through her gaze. She seems to want more from you than just a casual encounter.

"I don't want cute and innocent from you."

"Then what do you want?"

"I want you to be as fierce as you were earlier," she whispers, her tone low and seductive.

"As you wish, Miss Winner," you say, a cheeky grin spreading across your face.

"Show me what you got," she says, her tone challenging.

Without a moment's hesitation, you crash your lips against hers for yet another round, kissing her passionately. She reciprocates, and her hands grip your body, her nails digging into your skin. It hurts, but the pain is drowned out by the intense pleasure.

You break the kiss and attack her neck, nibbling on her soft flesh. She moans, and her hands wrap around your back, pulling you closer. You continue your assault, and she writhes underneath you, her breathing ragged.

"Ooh, shit! Yes! That's it!" she gasps, her voice cracking.

You continue your trail down her body, planting soft kisses along her collarbone. She whimpers, and her hands run through your hair, encouraging you to keep going. You then move further south, planting a soft kiss on her chest, right between her breasts.

"Yes… Yes! Please, keep going," she whispers, her voice breathy and needy.

You then plant another kiss on her left breast, followed by a soft bite on her nipple, making her whimper.

"Ahh shit!" she groans, her body shaking with pleasure.

"Do you want me to stop?"

"No… Please don't," she pleads, her voice dripping with need.

"Well then," you say, kissing her other breast, biting her nipple.

"Oh, fuck!"

"Like that?"

"Yes! I like that!"

"What about this?"

You move further south, trailing kisses down her belly. She moans as your lips caress her skin, her body writhing with pleasure. You then reach her thighs, and you give them a soft kiss.

"Yes! Oh, god!" she moans, her body trembling.

You then spread her legs apart, exposing her pink pussy, glistening with her juices.

"Oh, fuck. Look at you," you marvel, staring at her womanhood.

"I know. It's fucking amazing," she says, a satisfied smile on her face.

You then move closer, and your tongue finds her slit. You slowly drag your tongue along her wet folds, eliciting a moan from her. She throws her head back, her eyes closed, as she relishes in the sensation.

"Shit! There it goes again! That fucking tongue!"

"Do you want me to stop?"

She opens her eyes, staring right at you.

"No! Don't you fucking dare!"

"Alright," you chuckle, continuing your assault.

You lap at her wet folds, lapping up her juices. You savor her sweet, musky taste, and it makes you feel drunk.

"Ooh, shit! That's the spot," she gasps, her hands gripping the back of your head.

You continue your assault, licking her clit and teasing her wet entrance. Her body trembles and her moans get louder.

"Ooh, fuck! I'm getting close," she pants, her voice shaky.

You intensify your assault, sucking on her clit while inserting two fingers inside her.

"Are you gonna cum?" you ask, staring right into her eyes.

"I'm… I'm close," she whimpers, her voice barely audible.

"Do you want to?"

"Yes… Yes! I want to cum!" she gasps, her hips bucking.

As her screams go a few pitches higher, you let go of her. Taeyeon is left hanging, her body shaking with frustration.

"Huh? W-what the fuck?"

"I don't want you to cum yet," you explain.

"But I was so close, you fuck! You could've—"

You withdraw fully from assaulting her core, only to show her your own erection standing at full attention.

"I could've just let you cum…"

You position your shaft against her pussy, brushing her entrance.

"But I want to do it…"

You rub your shaft against her wet slit, making her groan.

"When I'm inside you."

"Oh f-fuck," she bites her lip, anticipating your next move.

"This is what you wanted all along, right?"

You press your tip against her entrance, and her eyes widen.

"Yes. You finally get—ooh!"

You continue to tease her, rubbing your cock against her entrance.

"Then, shall I?"

"Yes. I want you to—agh fuck!"

"Tell me how much you want it."

"I… I want it! I want you to fuck me!"

You continue to tease her, pushing the tip of your cock into her, making her moan.

"I don't think you're sincere, noona," you tease, pushing your cock further into her.

"Fuck you! Stop teasing me and start fucking me, you asshole!" she cries out in desperation.

"Then tell it to me like you mean it," you tell her, tapping her entrance with your length.

Her hips then shake as if begging for something. Her breathing is heavy, and her eyes are filled with lust and need.

"Please… I need it," she whimpers, her voice shaking and full of need.

"Then say it, Taeyeon."

She grits her teeth, and her eyes glaring at you, filled with both anger and frustration.

"Fuck me, alright? Fuck me like you mean it! I want you to fill me up and make me cum! Make me scream! Make me fucking lose my mind! I need it! I need your fucking dick inside me! Right. Fucking. Now!"

Without warning, you push your cock into her, eliciting a cry of both pain and pleasure from her.

"You mean like this?"

"Ah! Ahh fuck!"

You slam your cock into her, and she moans, her body shuddering.

"Enjoying this, aren't you, noona?"

"Fuck… I'm really gonna cum!"

Her back arches and her hands grip the bench. You continue to fuck her, and her moans get louder. You can feel her pussy tightening around your cock, and her body trembles.

"Shit! Shit! I'm cumming—ahh!"

Taeyeon screams, her body quaking in pleasure as her orgasm rocks through her body. Excess fluids gush from her core, coating your shaft and dribbling onto the bench, until it creates a small puddle underneath. You can't help but smile as you watch her, her expression filled with pure ecstasy.

She then falls limp, her body relaxing as her orgasm subsides. She looks at you, a satisfied smile on her face.

"How was it, noona? Was it good?"

"That was… Incredible," she manages to say, her voice still shaky.

"I'm glad I was able to satisfy you," you chuckle, pulling her into an embrace.

"Yeah… You did good for a newbie," she smirks, chuckling.

"Is that so?"

"Yeah. But you still have a lot to—ooh!"

You slam your cock into her, catching her by surprise.

"You say that but…"

You thrust in and out, and her eyes widen.

"Looks like you're losing your mind…"

"Oh fuck."

"To a virgin," you slam your cock deep inside her, her body shaking.

"Ahh! This fucking cock! Ahh!"

"So, tell me… What was that you said again?"

You pound her relentlessly, and her moans get louder. Her body shakes, and her breathing is ragged. For a stick-up mentor and tennis partner, she sure is enjoying her role reversal.

"I… I can't… Fuck! Oh, shit!"

"Pretty please?" you ask, slowing down the pace of your thrusts.

"N-no! No! Please don't slow down!" she pleads, her voice trembling.

"Then say it."

"Oh fuck you—ahh! I can't take it anymore!"

"I can do this all day."

"Agh! You asshole!"

You slam into her, and she screams, her body convulsing.

"Fuck! Not that spot!"

"Say it, Taeyeon. Say it."

With her face painted red in anger and embarrassment, she gives in.

"F-fine. Fine! You… I love your fucking cock! Your fucking virgin cock!" she screams at the top of her lungs, her voice echoing through the court.

"That's it. Let everyone hear you."

"Oh, fuck. I fucking love you," she moans, her voice dripping with need.

Her last few words catch you off-guard, but the sight of her drunk-hazed face and her pleasured moans make you forget it almost immediately.

"Then I'm yours."

You slam into her once more, and her eyes roll to the back of her head. With arms around your back, she pulls you in as she incoherently screams into your ear. Taeyeon has finally lost her mind, and you love to see it.

"Oh fuhg… It'sh sho gud!"

"What is good, huh? Tell me."

"Y-your cock… Your cock ish sho gud," she whimpers, her body spasming.

"And how does my cock feel inside you?"

"Sho big… It'sh filling my pusshy sho mush!"

"And whose is it?"

"Yoursh! All yours! My pusshy ish yoursh!"

"I can't quite hear you, noona."

"Your pusshy! It'sh all yoursh!"

"Good. Keep telling me. I love to hear it."

"Aahhh… Y-your cock… Fuck me more!"

You fuck her senseless, and her body writhes in pleasure. She continues to babble nonsense, her mind gone blank from the pleasure. You continue to slam into her, her tight cunt sucking in your shaft. You can feel her walls clenching, her pussy desperate to milk your cock.

"Taeyeon-noona, fuck… You feel so good."

"Aah! More! Give me more!"

"You want more? How about this?"

You then pick her up and fuck her as she's suspended in the air. Her eyes widen, and her mouth is agape.

"Oh fuhk… No. No!

She screams, and her legs wrap around your waist. You hold onto her tight, and your pace quickens.

"Oh, shit! You're sho deep!"

"You like that, huh?"

"Ahh… Y-yesh… More… Harder!"

"As you wish, noona."

You increase your pace, slamming into her faster and harder. With her light, small frame, you can go deeper than before, as if it's nothing. Or maybe all that rigorous training is finally paying off.

"Oh fuck! Fuck!"

"You like that, huh?"

"Y-yesh… I like it…"

"Good. Now, let me give you a reward."

You thrust faster and deeper, and her moans get louder. And as you do, you can feel your balls churn, the pressure building within them.

"Oh, fuck. Taeyeon-noona, I'm going to cum soon," you warn her, feeling the sensation rising.

"Yesh… Ghiv me your cum!"

"Are you sure? Are you sure you can handle it?"

"Yesh! Let me have it!"

"Alright then."

You amp up the pace as you reach your climax, and your thrusts get harder and faster. Her body is shaking, and her voice cracks as she moans uncontrollably.

"Oh fuhk! Here it cumsh!"

You slam into her one last time, burying your cock deep inside her. With a loud moan, you erupt, unloading a torrent of hot, thick cum. She screams, her voice ringing through the court, as your load fills her up, flooding her womb with seed. She clenches her eyes shut, and her hands grip your shoulders, holding on for dear life.

"Shit, noona… I can't stop!"

"Jush giv it all to me!"

You keep pouring into her, not stopping for a moment. Her body shakes, and her pussy tightens, squeezing out every last drop. You feel like you're being squeezed dry. Painful, yes, but you can't help but moan at the overwhelming pleasure.

"Oh fuck… I think I'm done…" you finally gasp, your thrusts slowing down.

"Ahh… So mush cum…" she sighs, her voice breathy and sultry.

You pull out of her, and her eyes are unfocused. A deluge of white ooze seeps out of her pink hole, a mixture of your fluids and hers. You can't believe the amount you have ejected, and neither can Taeyeon, as it creates a larger puddle on the ground.

"Holy shit," she gasps, her glazed eyes widening with disbelief.

"Fuck… I think I went overboard," you tell her, watching your semen flow out of her.

"You let out… So much…" she breathes, her weak body barely holding her upright.

"Well, I couldn't control myself. Not with you."

"Hahh… Thanks," she smiles, a hint of pride in her tone.

You both catch your breaths, the smell of sex hanging heavily in the air. Your body tells you that you've exhausted your reserves, and maybe so did Taeyeon's. But the sight and sound of your previous actions still linger in your head and your desire for more remains.

"Say… Noona…"

"Yeah."

Your shaft slowly stands back up, throbbing at her entrance and eager to continue. She lets out a soft gasp as she notices your eagerness. You can see the hesitation in her eyes, fueling your hunger even more.

"Can we?"

"You're restless today, aren't you?" she giggles.

"Can't help it," you grin, rubbing your length against her slit.

"Fuck… That feels so good," she moans, closing her eyes.

"So? Can we?"

"Hmmm… Alright. I guess one more time wouldn't hurt."

"Thank you," you tell her, a big grin forming on your face.

"So, what do you want to—whoa!"

Before she could finish, you swiftly lowered her to the ground and spread her legs apart. You position yourself in front of her, your shaft poised and ready. She looks at your erection, her face flushing a shade of red.

"Fuck… Here we go again," she sighs, anticipation in her eyes.

You then guide your shaft into her, and she whimpers, her pussy swallowing you whole.

"Urgh! You're so fucking tight, noona!"

"More like you're too fucking big," she grunts, her walls straining to accommodate your girth.

"And you're loving it," you reply, smiling sheepishly.

"Mhmm…" she nods, biting her lip.

"That's what I like to hear," you smirk, and without warning, start thrusting.

"Ahh! Oh shit! Fuck me harder!"

You comply, slamming your cock into her at a rapid pace. Her voice echoes through the court, a melody that fills you with immense satisfaction. The sound of her skin slapping against yours only adds to the pleasure, and you find yourself thrusting even harder.

"Fuck… Yes… Harder! Fucking pound my pussy!"

You slam into her faster, harder, and deeper. Her body writhes with pleasure, her hips bucking and her legs quivering. She can't help but wrap her arms around you, her hands digging into your skin. Her legs also have you locked in, the intensity of her hold surprising.

"Shit, Taeyeon-noona… You're so good," you groan, relishing the tightness of her pussy.

"Yes! Fuck! Right there! Keep fucking me like that!" she cries, her voice cracking.

"Here? Like this?"

You hit a spot inside her, and her body jolts.

"Aghh! Yes! There! Right fucking there!"

"You like that?"

"Yes! Fuck! I fucking love it!"

You continue to slam into her, wild like a beast in heat, hitting the same spot over and over again. She can't stop screaming, her voice cracking and her body shuddering with pleasure. and her pussy clenches around you, tightening even more. You can't help but let out a groan, the sensation driving you mad. You feel her orgasm coming, and you're not far behind.

"Shit… Noona, I'm gonna cum again!"

"Me too… Me too!"

"Hrgh! Here it goes! Take it all!"

"Yes! Cum with me! Cum inside me! Fill me up with your fucking cum!"

You feel the pressure rising, and you can't hold it any longer. You ram your cock deep into her, and with one last thrust, you let out a primal roar, releasing a torrent of hot cum into her. She screams, her voice ringing through the court as your thick load fills her up once again.

She cums right after, her pussy convulsing around your cock, unleashing a flood of her own juices. As if a dam had been burst, her fluids flowed freely, gushing out of her pussy and coating your cock. It's as if you're drowning, the intensity is overwhelming.

"Oh fukh! There'sh sho mush!"

"Taeyeon… You're so… Tight!" you gasp, your cock trapped by her pussy.

Not that you can, nor that you could. Your hips continue to buck, the pleasure almost unbearable. It's as if her cunt is trying to squeeze every last drop out of you, and it's succeeding. You keep pouring into her, filling her womb up to the brim.

"Ahh! It'sh not shtopping! Your cum ish sho mush!"

As your thrusts come to a halt, you slam your cock one last time, burying yourself deep inside her. Excess fluid squirts out of her, adding to the already impressive puddle underneath you. You can feel her pussy milking your shaft, squeezing out the last drop of cum.

After what seems like an eternity, your orgasm subsides, and you slowly pull out of her, your cock still oozing with cum. She sighs, and a copious amount of white liquid drips from her entrance. A mixture of both your cum and hers. After your earlier outburst, you can't believe how much you manage to let out, and neither could she.

"Fughk… Sho mush…" she pants, her eyes glassy.

"Noona… That was intense," you tell her, trying to catch your breath.

"Fuhk. Yes… I feel sho dihzzy."

You can't help but chuckle at her expression, her face flushed with exhaustion.

"Hey. Are you okay?"

"Yeah… I guesh," she mumbles, a sleepy smile spreading across her face.

You then carry her as you sit on the bench, her exhausted body resting against yours. With her remaining strength, she slowly wraps her arms around your back, pulling herself closer. You reciprocate, enveloping her in a tight embrace.

"Ow, ow!"

"What? What's wrong?"

"You're hugging me too hard!"

"Oh. Sorry. I went overboard, noona."

"Heh. Don't be," she laughs, nuzzling against you.

The two of you spend some time recovering from your intense session, the cool breeze a nice reprieve from the sweltering. She then looks up at you, her eyes full of desire.

"What? Do you want more?" you ask.

"No, I'm tired… Just hold me, okay?"

"If you say so," you chuckle, giving her a soft peck on the forehead.

She giggles, snuggling against you.

"We were kinda loud, weren't we?"

"Maybe."

"Do you think someone saw us?"

"I hope not," you chuckle, rubbing her shoulders.

"I do!"

From somewhere on the bleachers, a man's voice suddenly blurts out, emerges, the sound of his shoes echoing through the court. Your heart sinks as the two of you search for the source, finding a man sitting on the bleachers.

"Oh shit. There was someone," you gasp, your face flushing with embarrassment.

"Sorry for not telling you two," the stranger, wearing what might me a janitor's uniform, apologizes, looking rather bashful.

"How long were you there?" Taeyeon asks, yelling, her voice tinged with embarrassment.

"I heard screaming and moaning, so I went to check it out. And there I saw the two of you going at it."

"And you didn't stop us?" she retorts.

"Why would I? You lovebirds seem to be enjoying it," the stranger says, his tone nonchalant.

You and Taeyeon then exchanged glances, your faces blushing red.

"And besides…"

The two of you look back at the stranger.

"Security here doesn't give a shit during these hours."

"Really? Do they not monitor the cameras?"

"They do."

You both shudder at his response.

"But they'd rather get some shut-eye than deal with any after-hours shenanigans," he answers, chuckling at his own statement.

"So… Do they not care about what happens here?"

"Are you crazy? We've seen enough of that stuff already! It's common during these hours."

The stranger's words echoed in your ears, leaving you both stunned and relieved by the realization that your bold escapade wasn't as discreet as you

"Heh. I guess I did pick the right time---ow!"

Taeyeon suddenly hits you in between your playful comment with a playful yet embarrassed smirk on her face.

"You sonovabitch! You let people watch us? In public, of all places? I hate you!"

"Hey! Hey! It was your idea to have some fun in public," you protest, rubbing your arm where she hit you.

"But you made the reservation! You sneaky fuck… You probably knew about this!"

She continues to scold you, her words laced with a mixture of embarrassment and amusement. For such a soft punch, they sure are quite painful.

"No, I swear! I didn't know anyone would be here!"

"I swear, the next time you have your way with me, I will…"

"Hey. Don't blame me! You pulled me in on this!"

"Why you…"

"Before you lovers continue to be all playful and whatnot…" the janitor interrupts, "You might want to pack things up."

"Huh?" the two of you ask in unison.

He then points towards the sky as the dawning sun begins to peek over the horizon. You quickly check the time on your phone and realize that the time you reserved for your outdoor rendezvous is nearly up. With your exhausted bodies and flushed faces, you hurriedly gather your belongings, discarded clothes and all, trying your best to fix yourselves as fast and as composed as possible.

"What about the mess?" Taeyeon suddenly blurts out, her cheeks still flushed from the recent activities.

"What mess?" you ask, your focus shifting between the looming sunrise and Taeyeon's concerned expression.

"This mess!" She gestures towards the puddles of sweat and other bodily fluids that soak the bench and the concrete ground beneath it.

You exchange a panicked glance, realizing the evidence of your passionate encounter is scattered for all to see.

"What are we gonna do with this?" she exclaims, worry evident in her voice.

"Fuck… Uhh, shit! Gimme a sec…"

You quickly think of ways to resolve the situation.

"Hey! Don't worry about that," the janitor calls out, waving his hand dismissively.

"What? You're gonna clean all this?" you ask, a mix of relief and surprise in your voice.

"Uhh… Yeah! That's my job," he chuckles.

"Well… Thank you, sir!" you yell, waving your hand at him.

"Oh, thank you! Thank you so much!" Taeyeon cries out, her voice ringing with relief. She then pulls your arm, nudging you to leave the scene with her. "We have to go!"

You and Taeyeon then rush towards the exit, your hearts pounding with a mix of exhilaration and nervousness. From what was initially a harmless tennis practice session, things took an unexpectedly erotic turn, allowing you and your partner to unleash all your pent-up desires in a frisky and uninhibited display of passion. Fucking on a public tennis court was definitely not part of the plan, but it was an experience neither of you would soon forget.

"Ugh… Walking without underwear is the worst," you groan as you and Taeyeon hurriedly walk outside of the building, your exhausted dick swaying freely beneath your shorts.

"You think? I haven't even put anything underneath in a hurry!" she replies, frustration lacing her voice. Her breasts bounce under her clothes with each hurried step. "Hngh… I can feel some of your cum dripping down my thighs."

"It does?" you ask, shocked and curious, leaning in to inspect her arousing situation. "Lemme see…"

She then prepares to swing her arm to hit you. Her face furious yet blushing.

"Don't you even dare!"

"Alright, alright. My bad," you chuckle, raising your hands in surrender.

As the sight of the parking lot comes into view, the two of you sprint towards your car, not minding of anything else around. You quickly open the passenger door for Taeyeon, and she jumps in eagerly. You then jump into the driver's seat, heart pounding with nervousness and you start the engine and leave the place for good.

"Right," you breathe out as you adjust yourself in your seat.

"Let's go to my place," she tells you.

"Well, duh. Of course I'll drop you at your place, noona. Where else would I even…"

"No."

"Huh? What do you mean ‘no’?"

"I mean, you're all sweaty and whatnot, so…"

Twiddling with her hair, Taeyeon then looks at you with a coy expression on her face.

"If you want… You can take a shower at my place. I wouldn’t mind.”

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

Author’s Notes:

And that's another SNSD member written down! I'm halfway there... Maybe. I really can't imagine her other than the "Noona You'd Like to Date" and with my renewed interest over the "Prince of Tennis" series, I thought I'd give this idea a shot. I don't know much about tennis tho... So I hope I did a decent job at least. 🙏

Also... Some of you may not know this, but a few hours from now is my Queen Taeyeon's birthday! Going 35 and still one of the hottest idols in the industry. God-fucking-damn. 🥵

I have more stories lined up (and waiting to be written by yours truly OMFG I hate myself) and I'm very eager to share them to everyone. The "Spotlight" series is still. Don't worry. I didn't forget about it and hopefully I don't. I just thought of making stories of other idols in between to break it up a bit.

Once again, thank you to @capslocked and @sparkynsfws for your help in polishing this story, as well as to @braaan for yet another fire poster. Thank you so much! 🤗

Thank you for reading! 🙇

[pwettybbybunny]

𝐓𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐲 (Yandere! Sunday x Reader)

Gn! Reader (sub/bottom reader)

Desperate Pining series - Sunday edition

pt.1 | pt.2 | pt.3

CW: power play, sexual guilt, desperation, mind fuck, mind break, yandere doing yandere stuff, sunday being sunday, conditioning, sunday molding reader

Play the song for best experience

You had made many mistakes in your life, joining the Iris family, your career choice, but none could compare to falling for Sunday, the Oak family's head, daring to pine for him romantically, while all you were a mere performer, hell, not even an innocent singer or actor, you were a host/hostess in a nightclub, a glorified whore.

You could never forget the day you saw the angel, in the club during your shift, as he entertained some family's guests.

The way he walked, talked, moved, breathed, it cause your brain wiring to fuse in mere seconds. He was holy, divine, just a mere look at him, caused your heartbeat to palpate an unhealthy amount.

And Xipe, in all their glory, gazed your way they day, as you were picked to serve his table, god, his melodious voice left you all tingly, breath heavy.

The way he looked at you with such softness, his pretty smile, making you to whimper unconsciously, your thighs rubbing together in your tiny little bunny suit, your pussy wet / cock already dripping pre cum.

So you found yourself moaning and inside a restroom stall, one hand inside your underwear, other in your mouth, to prevent any noise to escape, albeit you were doing a terrible job in it.

Your vision started swirlling around, purple curvy borders around you, as if you're looking at a screen, your mind entirely consumed by thoughts about Sunday, till the second you orgasmed.

It felt, dirty, dirtier than you were used to feeling, as you knelt on the bathroom floor, panting, heart heavy, longing, your body jittery and mind confused at your actions. But most importantly guilt, guilt for lewding someone so holy, a guilt akin to felt when sinning, yet, double as tempting to repeat.

And all those feeling increased exponentially, as you got out the stall, only for your eyes to meet those golden ones through the reflection in the mirror.

"You make such cute noises, there's no need to hold them back," he said, as he turned around and stepped closer to you, your heartbeats resonating with his footsteps, only for your brain to stop working as he took your hand and kissed the area you had bit earlier, staring deep in your eyes.

From that moment on, you memories remains a blur, the kisses, the touch, the luxury hotel room which you could'nt have ever afford, and the tears.

And God, did that strange guilt scare you off, you don't really remember it yourself how you physically jolted at the thought of him penetrating you, daring to refuse the leader of Penacony, making him settle for a sloppy blow job and a thigh fuck, you barely even touching him, making him do all the work.

Yet, the man was gracious enough to let you stay over in the room for the night, blessing you with the opportunity to wake up next to him.

"Won't you pay me back for this opportunity, little sheep?" He asked you, caressing your cheeks gently, his touch akin to a whisper, light, sight, barely there, reminding you how you dared to reject his affection last night.

So you stayed, helping him get ready, buttoning his shirt for him, as he read some texts on his phone, tying his tie, the way he liked, getting him some coffee and breakfast from the breakfast buffet in lounge, because he's too prestigious to mix in common folk, all while he scrutinized you whenever you didn't do the tasks the exact way he liked.

And the second he left the room, you felt hollow, as if your heart had a gaping hole in between as if he took away a part of your soul with him. So imagine the unfathomable amount of joy you felt when Sunday kept frequenting the club more and more, always picking you to serve his table, giving you that kind look, praising you, doing everything in your power to please him, putting extra effort in everything.

All that, only for your heart to break when you heard the whispers about Sunday starting to indulge in some of your co-workers in bed.

Cause, after all, your sin wasn't craving the angel's attention, but to even think you could ever deserve it.

Your weeks your brain stuck on the thought, if the Sunday will come back in club the next day, if he will ask you to serve or not, or will he ask your co-workers, the one who get to lay with him at night. Will he get disgusted by you soon, get tired of pathetic little you.

But till then, those few hours serving were enough, despite the pain and longing, you were willing to suffer if it meant keeping that damn smile in your life.

All such thoughts spiralling in your head 24/7, causing you to get anxious randomly, to the point, your friends started worrying about you. As your self esteem started dwindled down, day by day, as you kept comparing yourself with him.

So it was a shocker when one day the man showed up near the cramped dingy alleyways you live in, greeting you with the same sweet smile, as the first day, you saw him.

You humored the man for some while, best to your capabilities as your breath started to get heavier and heavier in his presence, only able to look at him with a longing gaze, his words flying over your head, till you both stood in silence for a while, your brain to gushy to realize.

"You know, little lamb, you really need to learn some from Sydney," he said, pulling you out of your daydream, gently brushing your cheek with two fingers, then using them to slap your cheeks lightly.

You winced at the name of your co-worker, the one labeled as 'Sunday's favorite',

"I-"

"Invite me to your apartment," he instructed, cutting you off "It's only polite to continue our conversation, inside, right?"

So there you were in your tiny, cramped, studio apartment, he thought of your living condition to be proud, that much was visible on his face, as you brewed him some tea, the most expensive one you had, which was probably too cheap for Sunday's taste, while he chewed your head off on speaking about random things.

But mostly instructing you how to do things properly, like pouring him tea, how to serve him, how to sit properly, and so on. Which you followed diligently, of course, Mr. Sunday, is a kind soul, teaching someone like you, how to behave.

"(Y/n), replace your black net stockings with white ones" he instructed, referencing to your work uniform, before leaving.

So you did, the next day serving him, like a "good boy/girl" those words causing your face to flush, redder than a tomato.

And you got rewarded alright, as he lead you to the same hotel room, from your first night. This time the experience was more sweeter, gentler, yet you still had a break down at the thought of getting penetrated by him.

Heart pounding hard, you got a full-on panic attack this time, getting coddled by Sunday, as he has you sit on his lap, facing him, his dick rubbing against your pretty hole, as he cooed on you, his one hand patting your back, while caressed your face.

"Darling, you had no problem, jumping on Hudson's dick, what's wrong with me?" he asked, out of nowhere, as his hand now grabbed the behind the back of your neck, causing you to whimper.

"W-who?"

"Ah, so you don't remember your clients, huh? How sweet of you, to happily lay with someone whose name you can't recall, over the man, who's been kind enough to hide you in your stupid mistakes"

He sighed, hitting your cheeks with two of his fingers.

"Tell me, my little lamb, what do you think, when you see me?" He asked, his lips laying on your Adam's apple.

"P-preety" you whispered out.

"That so, doll?" he took whispered, taking your hands, and putting it on his face, "if you think, i'm preety lay your hands on me," Sunday said, as you looked in your eyes, an desperate expression in his gold eyes.

To be continued ~

Have you longed for someone so much so, you start feeling disgusting?

Can't you tell I'm desperate? Can't you tell I'm cheap? You don't gotta love me, we don't have to speak I'll see you in the morning, if you gotta leave I'll see you when I see you You Were a Dream - Artemas

(Excuse me if this was bad, It's my first fic and I'm suffering for horrible period cramps )