#Whisper of Every Waking Hour
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âhoney, iâm home.â
simon, presumed dead for the past five years, appears at your doorstep, very much alive.
the knock at the door cut through the quiet night like a knife, startling you from restless sleep. rain hammered against the windows, and the wind howled through the cracks. your heart pounded in your chest as you shuffled toward the door, dread curling deep in your stomach. no one visited at this hour. not anymore.
you hesitated at the door, hand trembling slightly on the knob. for a moment, you thought about ignoring itâletting whoever it was go unanswered. but something pulled you forward, a strange sense of familiarity, even though you couldnât place it.
when you opened the door, your breath caught in your throat.
there, standing on your doorstep, was simon.
simon stood before you, drenched from the rain, looking like a ghost dragged back from the edge of the world. his hair clung to his forehead, water dripping down his pale face, and exhaustion clung to him like a second skin. it had been five years since youâd gazed into those stormy eyesâfive years of grief, heartache, and learning how to live without him. his familiar eyes, shadowed by exhaustion and pain, locked onto yours. his clothes were soaked, his body thinner than you remembered, like he had fought every step of the way just to stand on your doorstep.
your breath hitched painfully. âwake up,â you said to yourself, heart racing. âplease⊠wake up.â
but you didnât.
âlovieâŠâ simon whispered, his voice cracked and hoarse, as if he hadnât used it for a long time. âiâm home.â
your mind swirled and shock paralyzing you. it felt like a cruel trick your mind had conjured. the world around you blurred, and your heart ached in your chest. it couldnât be real. he couldnât be here.
simonâs expression softened, and without a word, before you could react, he stepped inside, closing the door behind him with a quiet thud. he reached for you, pulling you into his arms without hesitation, and the breath left your lungs. his grip was tight, desperate, as if holding you was the only thing keeping him grounded. his cold, rain-soaked body pressed against yours, but you didnât care.
he was here.
you froze for a moment, and then, slowly, your hands gripped the wet fabric of his jacket, your chest pressed against his. tears welled in your eyes, the disbelief crashing into a flood of emotionsârelief, anger, and love. his familiar scent, rain-soaked, earthy, and undeniably him, flooded your senses, overwhelming you.
âthey told me you were dead,â you sobbed against him, your fists clinging to his jacket as if that could keep him here. âthey said your plane crashed. that you were gone.â
you clung to him, your heart shattering in your chest. he held you as if afraid you might slip through his fingers, as if his entire world depended on you being real.
simon buried his face into your hair, holding you tighter, his breath shaky. âevery bloody day, i fought my way back for you,â he said, his voice heavy with the weight of everything heâd endured. âyou were the only reason i stayed alive.â
you sobbed harder, burying your face into his chest, your knees nearly giving out beneath you. all the years of mourning him, the endless nights spent crying yourself to sleep, the desperate ache of thinking youâd lost him foreverâall of it shattered in his arms.
but then, simonâs grip on you faltered. something had shifted in the way he held you. slowly, he pulled back just enough to look down at your hand. his thumb brushing over the bare space where your wedding ring used to sit.
his body tensed. he pulled back slightly, just enough to glance down at your hand, and his breath hitched. the wedding ring you once wore was gone.
âwhereâs your ring?â he asked, voice quiet but edged with something fragile, as if the answer might break him.
your throat tightened, guilt and sorrow clawing at your chest. âsimonâŠâ you started, voice cracking under the weight of it all.
his jaw tightened, and his gaze flicked past you. thatâs when he saw themânew photos hanging on the walls. the ones of you and him were gone, replaced by pictures of you and someone else.
it was like the air had been knocked from his lungs. his jaw clenched, shoulders sagging under the realization. his face a mask of exhaustion and heartbreak as the weight of what he was seeing sank in.
you looked away, guilt pressing down on your chest like a heavy weight. âi waitedâŠâ you whispered. âeven when they told me there wasnât a chance you were alive, i tried.â
his face didnât change, but the subtle pain and betrayal in his eyes was unmistakable. âi came back for you,â he uttered softly, almost to himself. âi told you iâd come to you.â
âi thought you were gone,â you cried, tears spilling down your cheeks. âi didnât know how to keep waiting when they told me youâd never come back.â
simonâs hand cupped your cheek, his thumb gently brushing away your tears. despite everything, his touch was tender, grounding. âi didnât survive just to be a memory, sweetheart,â he murmured, his forehead resting against yours. âi fought every day to come back to you. and if i have to fight again⊠i will.â
you leaned into him, your heart breaking and mending all at once. the years apart, the lost momentsâthey still weighed heavy, but he was here. he had kept his promise, and that was all that mattered now.
âi told you iâd come back,â he said, voice low but steady. âand iâm not going anywhere. not ever again.â
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Lead Us Not Into Temptation
Father Charlie Mayhew x Reader
Warnings:Â NON-CON, mentions of prostitution, mentions of infidelity
â„ banner by @vase-of-liliesÂ
summary: turning your life around is easier said than done when you tempt the very man meant to lead you to salvation.
â±
âBless me, father, for I have sinnedâŠâ
The familiar words tumbled from your lips, and your gaze remained on your lap, eyes following your finger as you traced patterns into the solid black skirt on your frame. It kissed your ankle as you shifted your feet, and the reminder of the long fabric had you swallowing down less than gentle thoughts. You slowly reached up to touch the collar of your shirt, eyes briefly falling closed as you cleared your throat.
Youâd spent hours agonizing over how youâd leave the houseâŠ
âIt has been seven days since my last confession. These are my sins.â
Like clockwork, you listed the time you cursed for some accident or another and the time you took the Lordâs name in vain and the brief impure thought about that attractive man youâd seen in the grocery store. Every week, it was the same. Sins that you yourself would never have considered as such months ago that you were now hyper aware of. They climbed out of your throat seamlessly, remembering every single one until only one was left.
The silence between you and the man just on the other side of that wall stretchedâa familiar occurrenceâand you took your lip between your teeth. You could taste blood as you worried it, swallowing it down before clearing your throat again. You smoothed your hand over your skirt, and you furiously blinked, struggling to blink away the tears that had started to collect. As you sat in silence, you wondered why you were trying so hard to impress people that had already written you off?
âIâve hadâŠsome hateful thoughts as well.â
You struggled to get the words out, always struck by just how emotional this made you. You looked up towards the ceiling, eyes roaming, and you hadnât even realized that your breathing had started to pick up until he spoke.
Father Mayhew.
âTake your time,â he gently encouraged. âSpeak when you are ready.â
It wasnât the first time youâd heard those words, recalling your first ever confessional and how youâd cried. It was as embarrassing now as it was then, but it was necessary. You were determined to live differently nowâto be different, now.
âAlthough I have abandoned my former life andâŠoccupationâŠâ you thought you heard him shift. â...I feel as if I will never truly be forgiven for it.â
You swiped your tongue between your lips.
â...will never be accepted.â
You recalled the eyes that often found their way to you during massâthe judgment, the disdain, the way in which some stared at you as if they didnât know how to place you.Â
Every sunday it was the same. Youâd wake up and agonize over how to present yourself in a place as holy as this. Youâd fret that this skirt was too short and that dress was too tight. Youâd fiddle with your hair for far too long and every lipstick you wiped off would stain your lips a little more than the last. You were constantly at a crossroad, torn between wanting to look nice for church and concerned about looking likeâŠwellâŠa whore.
You struggled to swallow.
âI see the way they look at me,â you eventually whispered, staring at nothing. âI canât hear what they whisper, but I know itâs about me.â
You touched your throat, hating how tight it felt.
âItâsâŠdiscouraging.â
You didnât want to use that word, but it was the only word that was appropriate. It made you sad, and you often wondered why you kept returning to a place that made you sad. Surely a church wasnât necessary to âfind Godâ...right? You didnât think so, but you had wanted to start somewhere, and considering that none of your friends even owned a bible, they had been of no help. Stepping foot into a place that had only ever served to be ominous and oppressive in your eyes was the most terrifying thing youâd ever done.
âŠbut then you had laid eyes on Father Mayhew.
Heâd been the only one in the church at the time, and you would never forget the curious glint in his dark gaze. Youâd had no doubt that he could see you were scared and unsure and in an environment you were wholly unused to. Youâd appreciated the gentle way in which he talked to you, guiding you towards a pew in the front as you asked him questions that some people had answers to their entire lives. He hadnât treated you like you were stupid, but more importantly, he hadnât treated you like you didnât belong.
You were willing to bet that he hadnât even known about you then.
Although, months later, you were willing to bet that he did nowâŠeven though youâd never told him.
âHumans are flawed,â his smooth voice reached your ears through the wall. âWe all fall shortâeven the most devout of usâand we find ourselves falling prey to the temptation of judgmentâŠprideâŠlustâŠâ
You intently listened. After all, heâd never said these words to you before, always giving you some speech about Godâs love trumping all.
âI have no doubt that it is trying, but I am sure you will come to give them grace for their sins just as they will give you grace for yours. We are all Godâs children striving to lead a life in his imageâŠâ
His voice lowered at that, and you frowned slightly, looking towards the wall and thinking to yourself that he almost seemed to be talking to himself now.
âHe wants his children to love one another, a feat that is not without difficulty Iâm sure you knowâŠâ that actually made you hold back a chuckle. â...but Godâs love is powerful and he always grants forgiveness to those who genuinely yearn and ask for it.â
At that, you did smile.
You told him that you were truly sorry for your sins, and he told you to say ten Hail Maryâs, and you stepped out of the confessional feeling better than you did thirty minutes ago. You didnât know how long the feeling would last though, and so you wanted to hold onto it for as long as you could, but you knew from experience that was easier said than done.
You touched the crucifix around your neck as you stepped out of your building.
It had once belonged to your mother, and despite how long sheâd been gone and how down on your luck youâd been ever since, you could never quite find it in you to pawn it. It was real goldâprobably the only real piece of jewelry you ever ownedâbut you just couldnât do it, and you supposed that you were never meant to. Despite the many years youâd lived life as the complete opposite of a God fearing womanâŠit felt right sitting just below your collarbone.
Even if many would not agree.
You were no stranger to several men in this townâand the ones who often passed through on their truck routesâbut that had not stopped you from seeking solace and guidance from a place youâd never stepped foot into in your life. You couldnât lie and say it didnât feelâŠstrange to be in the same building as some of the men youâd serviced before, their wives and children at their side as they furiously avoided making eye contact with you. It felt even worse to watch the way the women would congregate together after church, excluding you all the while talking about you.
It felt somewhat pathetic for your only ally in the place to be the priest.
Although you sometimes wondered how true that was these days. Youâd never once confessed that you used to be a prostituteâalthough the kids called it sex work these daysâbut you werenât stupid. As godly and devout as they claimed to be, you knew that the church was filled with gossip and there was no telling whoâd let it slip to the dark haired man. You knew when he knew thoughâŠ
âŠbecause he looked at you different.
It wasnât a bad differentâthank God for thatâbut justâŠdifferent, and while it wasnât necessarily bad, you still didnât think you liked it. Confessionâbeing anonymousânever allowed for you to tell him your name, and considering youâd only ever spoken to him once outside of confession months ago, you didnât know if he ever knew it was you he was talking to. You didnât know if he knew that the woman he spoke so gently with each week and listened to cry on the other side of some window was the same woman who often shrunk under his heavy gaze as he looked down on his congregation.
You never felt like he was judging you, no, but you also never felt like he was looking at you as he did that first day, a gentle curiosity in his eyes. He wasnât your friendâfar from it in factâbut he felt like the closest thing you had to one in this church, and so you often forced yourself to find excuses for it. He watches you because he wants to make sure youâre settling in okay. He watches you to observe how other members of the church are treating you. He watches you because heâs wondering if youâll ever come to confession, convincing yourself that heâs never recognized your voice all this time.
That is why he watches you, you told yourself.
No other reason.Â
âYou always come to pray at least three times a weekâŠâ
The familiar voice startled you as you stood, hand lowering as youâd just finished signing the cross. Your hand was still on your chest as you turned to face him, a small smile on your lips as he stood directly in the center of the aisle. You hadnât even heard him make a single sound, and you wondered how long heâd been standing there.
He slowly returned your smile with one of his own, although it was smaller, and the silent way in which he stared at you reminded you that heâd said something to you.Â
âYes,â you finally said, moving away from the altar. âIt helps withâŠumâŠreally everything.â
He blinked at you, and you noticed that a strand of his hair was threatening to go rogue. He always looked so neat and perfect that it was hard to miss. Father Mayhew was handsomeâif anyone had seen enough men to know it was youâbut he was handsome in a way that you would categorize as flawless. Divine even. In a way that was untouchable and only meant to be admired in the most innocent of appreciation.Â
He slowly nodded at your response, and you didnât miss the way he studied youâdark eyes drinking you in and taking note of every stylistic choice youâd made today.
âYou know, I think I might see your face far more than those who have been coming here for years,â he lightly told you, a slight laugh on his lips.
You laughed with him, only offering him a shrug.
âIâm still new. Iâm sure it just seems that way because you arenât used to seeing me.â
He started to shake his head before you could even finish talking, and you watched him move closer.
âNo,â he murmuredâso low you almost didn't hear him. âI think you are perhaps my mostâŠdevout congregant.â
He touched your crucifix as he said this, dark eyes tracing the shape of it, and he was so close that you could smell his cologne. You blinked at the scent, finding it strange to know that he wore cologne. It shouldnât be strange, you supposed, but you realized then that you didnât quite view priestsâview himâas human. As normalâŠ
His eyes lifted then to finally connect with yours, and a crooked smile danced along his pink lips.
âItâs admirable,â he whispered. âMore of my congregation could stand to follow your lead.â
You couldnât ignore the way your chest bloomed at those words, almost hating how much validation you wanted from this place. Validation that you were a good personâŠyou werenât who you used to beâŠthat you were worthy of something more, you didnât know. It just felt relieving to hear such a compliment from Father Mayhew when no one else in the church would even give you a chance.
âThank you, Father,â you quietly replied to him. âThat means a lot to me.â
You watched him slowly inhale as he dropped his hand, and he seemed even slower to step out of your way. When you walked past him, you could feel his gaze on youâalways watchingâand you smiled when he called out to you, telling you that he looked forward to seeing you on Sunday.
No one was more sad than you when you had to disappoint him.
An unexpected cold had you bedridden for days, and while you knew that an illness was a perfectly valid excuse to miss church, you couldnât swallow down the disappointment. You hadnât missed a single Sunday since you first started going, and you thought to yourself that the first thing youâd do when you returned was explain your absence to Father Mayhew.
You had never anticipated him showing up at your door to get it himself.
No one ever knocked on your door these days, so the sound had taken you by surprise. Your friendsâwhile supportive of the direction your life had takenâdidnât quite understand it and so you didnât see them as often, and as for anyone else⊠Well, there wasnât anyone else who would come knocking on your door. You didnât do that anymore so no customers were going to be greeting you on the other side with their money in their hand and an eager grin on their lips, and you doubted any of the women in town would want to sit down for a chat anytime soon.
Your shock at Father Mayhewâs presence was all over your face.
âFather,â you stated, the lilt in your voice hinting at your surprise.
He looked just as you were used to seeing himâclerical collar still on, not a hair out of place, and a hint of a smile on those pink lips. You stood there gaping at him for all of five seconds before it struck you how rude you were probably being.
âIâŠIâm so sorry. UmâŠcome in,â you told him, stepping out of the way and widening the gap in the doorway.
He didnât respond nor move right away, looking past you into your small house with a look in his gaze that you couldnât name. If he were anyone else, you might worry that he was judging where you lived. You watched his jaw briefly tighten, a noticeable strain in his face, and it only just occurred to you that maybe this wasnât appropriate? Although you were positive youâd heard of priests and pastors visiting the sick before, and while you certainly werenât on your deathbed, you didnât see why this would be different.
Before you could say another word though, his foot crossed the threshold, and you closed the door behind him.
âI do apologize for the unexpected visit,â he said to you, gazing around before his eyes landed on you again. â...but when I noticed that mass was absent of a face Iâd grown to look forward to, I became concerned.â
You couldnât stop your smile at his words
âOh,â you softly said. âWell, thereâs no need to be concerned. Itâs just a small cold that will be gone in a day or two.â
You watched him exhale at that, nodding to himself, and you studied him, surprised to see that he looked genuinely relieved at that.
âIâm glad to hear thatâs all it isâŠâ
At that, your brows furrowed, and you watched him slowly walk about your living room.
âI had feared that some of your fellow church goers had scared you off.â
Your lips parted at his words, and he turned and looked at you.
âThey often fall into the temptation of judgment, after allâŠâ
Your heart skipped a beat, and you didnât know how to react with the knowledge that he knew it was you who came to see him once a week. Youâd only spoken to him face to face twice, and you swallowed, looking away.
âI thought it would be a shame if they scared you off,â he confessed, and you noted that he was closer now. âI wondered what I would have to do to convince you to come back. Drag you, perhaps.â
You gave a soft laugh at that, although he didnât join you, and it awkwardly faded. He stared at you in silence for what felt like a long time, and just when you were considering asking him if he wanted anything to drink, he reached out to touch the crucifix around your neck again.
âSo devout,â he quietly said to himself. âIt almost makes me ashamedâŠâ
At that, you gave a heavy laugh, wondering how you could ever shame a priest.
âWhy?â
â...because I see why they flocked to your doorâŠmoney in hand.â
His gaze lifted as he said that, and you were still as you both just stared at each other. His words made you blink, and you were suddenly very aware of his hand practically on you. You couldnât stop the slight frown that fell over your face, and for the first time in monthsâsince you first stepped foot into that churchâyou feltâŠwrong.
âI see why their eyes trace every inch of you when youâre not lookingâŠas if to relive the memory of what you felt likeâtasted like.â
You finally took a step back, hand coming up to cover your necklace as if protecting it from his touch.
âWhat memories they must have of youâŠâ
You wrapped your other arm around yourself, mind whirling to reconcile the man before you with the same man whoâd always been so welcoming and gentle. Not once did you ever think he judged you for your past, and you supposed that you were right, but not once did you ever think he also mightâŠ
You hadnât done that in over a year, but had it really escaped you so quickly that a seemingly devout man was stillâŠa man?
âFather, I think you should-.â
âI donât say any of this to offend you,â he interrupted, tilting his head. âI say it because I fight the urge to touch you every time youâre in my presence.â
You moved by him to make your way to the door, but like an ever present shadow you only just noticed, he was close behind.
âYou can cover up as much as youâd likeâwear skirts down to your ankle and shirts up to your chinâŠâ his hand on the door halted your movements.Â
You felt his chest just barely grazing your back, and his lips followed suit, the softness of them brushing against your ear as he spoke. That familiar cologne invaded your senses.
â...but none of it can hide the temptation you pose by merely existing.â
You shrunk away from him at that, tears in your eyes as he verbalized the same fears you had every time you walked into the building. You flinched when his lips touched the back of your neck, heart dropping to your stomach, but you reached for the door handle anyway.
âFather, Iâd like you to leave-.â
Your words were cut off by your own sharp scream, taken aback by the feel of his fingers harshly pressing into the skin of your throat. His hand rested on the back of your neck, and you pressed your hand to the door when his lips grazed your cheek.
âTheyâre all like rabid dogsâŠjust waiting to pounce,â he mused against your skin, sliding between you and the door and forcing you further into your house with every step. âJust waiting for you to give up this charade and go back to taking their money for a quick fuck.â
You blinked, and a few tears escaped.
â...but they donât know you like I know you.â
He grinned against your cheek, and you winced as he lightly nipped at the skin there.
âThey donât know that you come to church at least thrice a week to light candles and prayâŠâ
You were full on sobbing now, and you could feel the cool metal of his ring against the back of your neck.
âThey donât know that you never miss your weekly confession, telling me every time you so much as say the Lordâs name in vain.â
His free hand was reaching for the buttons of your shirt, popping them open one by one, and you gasped when his fingers finally met skin. He dipped his head, mouth finding the skin of your shoulder and collarbone interesting before his hand searched for your wrist.
âThey donât know that you are the most pious woman to walk through those doors,â he purred, pressing gentle kisses to the inside of your wrist. â...and that I just want to ruin you for it.â
When his hand dipped between your legs, you were quick to try and stop him, still wincing at the tight grip on the back of your neck. Father Mayhew made a noise of disapproval, and your hand faltered when he harshly bit your shoulder.
âWe areâŠand always will beâŠsinnersâŠâ
Once his fingers were inside of you, it was like the point of no return. You found it funny that he likened the men in church to that of rabid dogs when he himself was behaving like the very thing he used to insult them. When your knees buckled, he followedâone arm around you and holding you in place while the fingers on his other hand curved into you.
Every thrust of his fingers made you wetterâembarrassingly soâand when he pulled your head back, he forced a kiss onto your lips. He swallowed down your whimpers and noises of protest, a moan escaping him as he tasted the inside of your mouth. With him so close to you, you could feel the muscles and contours of his frame beneath his clothes, and you were forced to recognize your predicament and his strength and what that meant for you.
When you were face to face with him again, his hair was nowhere near as neat as it was when he first walked through your door. His pink lips were swollen and reddened from kissing you and dragging over your skin. Your pajama top had long been discarded, the bottoms long ripped and pulled off of you. Father MayhewâsâCharlieâclerical collar was long gone, his shirt pulled open and hanging off of him.
You recalled the way your mouth had parted into an âOâ shape when the head of his cock finally dipped into you, stretching you with every inch and making your heart momentarily stop. His hand covered a breast, the feel of his ring cooling that singular part of your skin, the rest of you so overheated. His other hand was wrapped around your throat, and you clawed at his hand as he fucked you.
The sound of skin slapping against skin was loud in your tiny home, the only sound to rival it being his harsh grunts and your strained voice. Any fight that youâd put up had been quickly squashed down, shown in the harshest manner just how strong your priest was. You hated how good it felt, hated that you didnât want this but was now forced to enjoy it. Nevermind the fact that you hadnât enjoyed sex for the act itself in yearsâŠ
âŠbut of all people to find yourself in this predicament with.
Father Mayhewâs hands never stayed in one place for long. He seemed determined to touch every part of you he could get his hands on, lips tasting the saltiness of your skin. Sweat clung to your frame and his, his fingers sliding over you as he kneaded your thighs and your waist and your chest. Every time you reminded yourself how wrong this was, heâd push his cock into you to the hilt, and youâd involuntarily throw your head back.
You could feel your crucifix pressing into your skin, and your eyes watered.
âI must admit that I wasâamâjealous,â he dragged out, voice hoarse and throaty and wholly unlike how you were used to hearing him. âYour devotion to God inspires an envy within me that I never knew existed.â
You took note of the scars on his back underneath your fingers.
â...a desire to have you completely devoted to me,â he bit out, covering your lips with his own. âYou so desperately desire forgiveness and acceptanceâŠand all the things you didnât think you were worthy of having.â
He harshly thrust into you, making you gasp.
â...and I can give that to you,â he whispered into the kiss.
The power behind his thrusts had you scratching at both his back and the floor, eyes squeezing shut at the way his fingers dug into your skin. It was like he was both holding you to him and trying to prevent you from ever walking away. Your chest arched up into his as you gasped, choked whimpers climbing out of your throat with every push of his hips. He growled against your skin as his lips traveled to your neck, the sound almost demonic to your ears.
When you came around himâyour first orgasm in over a yearâyou couldnât swallow down the noise it forced out of you. You could feel blood beneath your nails and a slickness on the inside of your thighs, but all the while Father Mayhew didnât stop.
With one hand pressed against the floor, he pushed himself up to look down at you. His free hand slid up your sweaty frame, coming up to wrap around the crucifix that rested against your skin. He tightened his hold around it, and he pulled on it, forcing you to lift your head and meet him halfway for a kiss.
âI want you just as eager to get on your knees for meâŠâ
#charlie mayhew#father charlie mayhew#charlie mayhew x reader#father Charlie mayhew x reader#nicholas alexander chavez#grotesquerie#nicholas chavez
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how do you sleep?
pairing: joel miller x f!reader
summary: joel's always there to comfort you with his words and a warm bed after a nightmare, but tonight, you need a little more
warnings: 18+ MDNI, jackson era, soft!joel, comfort, undefined relationship, getting together, mentions of nightmares & insomnia, smut, unprotected piv, slow/intimate sex, creampie
word count: 3.3k
âWhasâwrong?â
You didn't mean to end up here again. It's the third night this week you swiped Joel's key from under the doormat and found yourself standing in his bedroom doorway.
"Can't sleep," you reply, barely above a whisper. Exhaustion seeps into your voice, permeating your limbs the longer you remain standing.
He already knows why you're here. Ever since you, Joel, and Ellie arrived in Jackson and were offered homes of your own, rest evades you more than it ever did on the road. It's too quiet here, and your racing mind fills the silence with the horrors of a life lived in constant fear.
You know you're safe now. You know that, but it's not enough to convince your body or quell the ever-present tightness in your chest telling you to run, to hide. Your fears are more potent in the dark, and the shadows creeping from wall to wall have sharper edges. Teeth that threaten to tear you apart and rip away everything and everyone you've fought so hard to protect.
The walls and floorboards creak with life that shouldn't be present in an empty, two-story homeâtoo big for a single person, and yet still yoursâand quickly begin to sound like impending death.
Nowadays, more often than not, you seek out a different kind of shelter. The familiar, comforting embrace of the man who kept you warm and protected through harsh winters and from monsters prowling in the night. That's where you belong.
Crisp bedsheets rustle in the dark and then you hear Joel pat the mattress twiceâan invitation to occupy the space beside him, the one he always leaves empty just in case.
"Well, c'mon then. Hurry up," he grumbles, still half-asleep. But he isnât frustrated. He's tired, just like you, and he'll probably sleep a lot better knowing both of his girls are resting soundly under his roof.
You trudge over and waste no time burying your face in his bare chest, breathing in pine and cedar wood shavings before exhaling a heavy sigh of relief. Throwing a leg over his thighs, you mold into him, rubbing your cheek into coarse curls and marveling at the calm, steady rhythm beneath you.
It feels good to be home. You're not sure why you let Maria give you an entire house to yourself when everything you could ever want or need was right across the street. Every time you end up back here, you wonder. And every time you leave, you wish you'd stayed.
He wraps you up in his arms and tugs you into his side, murmuring your name with soft lips that tenderly caress your forehead. They're so warm, just like the rest of him, and you find yourself aching to feel them on yours. It's a line neither of you have ever crossed, but tonight's been rough.
For what felt like days, you were forced to watch as your worst nightmares came to bloody fruition. You were dragged through the most brutal outcomes of events you already survived and could do nothing more than pray you'd wake up soon. When you finally came to and checked the clock, it had only been an hour and a half since you'd passed out. The moon was still high in the sky, taunting you with the promise of more. More dread, endless brutality.
Joel can make all of that go away, if only for a few hours. He always does, but tonight...you don't want to talk about it tonight. You don't want to think about it, about anything at all. You just want him.
You'd feel selfish asking for more if there wasn't already something between you. Something nurtured and gradual that's been building for months, beginning on your travels across the country and coming to an unignorable head here in Jackson.
Back then, it was stolen glances while you bathed together in streams and fleeting touches in your shared sleeping bag under star-filled skies. It's more intimate these days. He holds your hand when you're anxious, and you kiss away the frown lines and frustrated wrinkles that mar his skin.
Every day, you skirt the line between platonic companionship and whatever's starting to simmer below the surface. You're scared to hope he feels it too, but the thought of remaining in this undefined middle ground scares you even more.
The furnace drifting in and out of consciousness next to you radiates with an addictive heat you've told yourself to ignore for a long time, but it's quickly becoming an impossible feat. Pressed into his side, you're trying and failing not to writhe against him. But he's starting to notice.
His hips jerk every time your core drags against his bare thigh, a slow, repetitive grind you really shouldn't continue, but feels so fucking good combined with the slick pooling between your legs. You should stopâreally, you shouldâbut his breathing's changing and hitching, catching in his throat every time the growing tent in his boxers meets the friction of your inner thigh.
Then, he gasps something cognizant and urgent, and you know you've been caught. His hand snakes down to your ass and traps you against his side with a grip so firm, plush skin spills between his fingers.
âWoah, hold on there," he breathes out heavily, and his gaze drops to yours curiously. His eyes are wide open and alert, shining with the faint reflection of moonlight streaming through an adjacent window. Bright and yet pitch black as his sleep-addled brain struggles to catch up with his body. "What's goin' on with you tonight?"
You worry your bottom lip between your teeth, debating whether or not to ask for his help. His expression is gentle but otherwise unreadable, and there's a chance this could go very, very badly. Maybe you'd be better off apologizing, but you don't want to. You're not sorry for needing him.
And the longer he waits for an answer, the more his body convinces you that he wants the same things you do. His hand is still on your ass, kneading as he urges you to rock into him, but he doesn't seem to realize he's doing it. Then, his thigh flexes and a rush of wetness coats your already soaked underwear. His expression falters, and you know he can feel it.
His voice is tighter when he speaks again, but that tinge of concern is still there. He wants to make it all better, but he can't unless you tell him how. Your hand tenses where it lies on his chest, and he covers it with his own.
"What can I do? Just tell me how to help youâwhatever it is, I'll do it," he murmurs, brushing his thumb reassuringly across your skin. You tilt your chin up and suddenly you're close enough to breathe his air. Closer than you've ever been and yet still not close enough.
"I need you to...," Fuck me. But it sounds too crude. A quick fuck isn't what you need right now. You need to be full of him, to hold him deep inside you and keep him there for as long as this night will allow. "...make me feel safe again."
"Tell me how," he repeats as you struggle to bite back a moan. He's working you against him intentionally now, encouraging you up and down his leg, and it's making your brain go a little haywire. "What do you need, baby?"
"Joel," you whine at the endearment, an intense heat building at the apex of your thighs. That's new. You want to hear him say it again, to devour every word as he buries himself inside you over and over. You will him to understand. "I need you."
He sucks in a harsh breath through his teeth, steeling himself before nosing into the hairs at your temple. The gesture is so tender and affectionate even as he bucks into your thigh, and it's painfully obvious how hard you're making him. He nods slowly and plants a soft kiss on your forehead, his chest rising and falling more rapidly than before.
"Okay, baby. I got you," he murmurs, his lips trailing down to your eyelids, then the apple of your cheek. "I'll make it all go away, alright? M'gonna take care of you."
And you believe him. He rolls you onto your back and you gasp as his entire weight presses you into the mattress. It's more than just comforting. You feel protected. He's shielding you from this horrible, broken world, somehow managing to prove that there's still goodness to be found. And it's on top of you, broad and strong, and wanting you just as badly as you want him.
Big hands cup your cheeks and his lips meet yours, so much different than the familiar press against your forehead or the top of your head. You're in unknown territory, but he guides you carefully and moves slowly, taking the time to explore and savor. The taste of spearmint begins to overwhelm your senses as the kiss deepens, and you lick into his mouth impatiently, already craving more.
But after years of quiet observation, Joel knows better than anyone how to temper you. Ducking down to bury his face in your neck, he kisses along the underside of your jaw, regaining control of the pace with a sharp, halting suck. And while he refuses to let your urgency rush him, he still allows your hands to roam his skin and tug at his boxers, letting you take what you wantâlike his only goal is to make sure this lasts long enough for him to fulfill his promise.
A disgruntled groan bubbles in your throat, and you feel him chuckle. "Y'know, patience is supposed to be a virtue," he mumbles, amused, his beard scratchy and grounding against your skin. You huff in response.
Tonight doesn't feel like a night for virtues. Not when things are finally changing in your favor. After so much time, so much running, you actually have somewhere to goâand stay. You're not running away anymore. You're moving towards something that feels real, and dependable, and safe, and you're doing it together. And now that you're so close you can taste it, you're done waiting.
"You're really gonna start caring about virtues now?" you ask skeptically, slipping your hands past the waistband of his boxers to grab his ass.
He hesitates, then huffs out a quiet laugh. "Fair enough."
And with that, you both know the time for talking is over. Something shifts and you're on the same page, ready to take as much as the other is willing to give.
Joel begins to drag your shirt up to reveal more, but suddenly feeling stifled, you take over and remove it completely. The look on his face makes it more than worth it. It's not the first time he's seen you naked, but as his eyes rake over your bare curves, it feels like it could be. Reverently, he returns his lips to yours, kissing you deeply before charting a path lower.
His mouth feels hot as he laves and nips across your collarbone, and he shimmies further down the bed until he's just barely ghosting the swell of your breasts. You gasp, burying your fingers in his hair as he sucks a bruise below your nipple and soothes the sting with his tongue. Licking a wide stripe past the darkening mark, he captures the bud between his teeth, another hand sliding up your stomach to cup your other breast while he alternates between swirling and sucking.
Your entire body feels like it's on fire. The ache between your thighs worsens the longer he continues, but instead of squeezing them together for relief, you wrap your legs around his waist and tug him onto you. By now, you're so wet, there's no way you're not soaking right through your underwear and into his boxers, and you hope he can feel it. If your increasing volume isn't enough of an indication that you need him inside you, then maybe this will be.
He lets out a pained groan into your chest, and you clench in satisfaction. He immediately grinds down, thrusting into you like he's forgotten about the layers of clothing still separating you. You don't bother to remind him.
Bucking him off, you quickly wrench down your underwear then reach for his, yanking them off while he sheds his t-shirt. Your fingers close around his cock before his shirt hits the floor and he startles before melting into your grip, eyes fluttering shut and lips parting around a cross between a sigh and the neediest whine you've ever heard.
You feel that telltale whoosh between your legs again, and after pumping him a few times, you guide him toward your entrance. In the back of your mind, you know you're taking a risk without a condom. You should be safer, more responsible. But it's Joel. It's always been Joel.
His eyes shoot open once he realizes where you're leading him, but you only bite your lip and nod, your expression uncharacteristically vulnerable. An unspoken agreement passes between you, a quiet understanding cultivated through years of friendship and now something more. Then, he presses inside and your mind goes blissfully blank.
No more horrors, no more fear. Just Joel keeping his promise and doing exactly what you trusted him to do. He encompasses you entirely, pressing the length of his body flush against yours as he works himself into you. The stretch was nothing you ever could've anticipated, but it grounds you in the present moment. It's everything you told yourself not to hope for when you showed up on his doorstep tonight.
His movements are slow but powerful, and he rests his forehead on yours, eyes alert and acutely aware of every change in expression. The intensity of his gaze and the slick sound of him burying himself to the hilt should make you self-consciousâit's all you can see and hear, but that's the point, isn't it? To get lost in the way he drags so perfectly against your walls and grinds his hips into yours on every thrust, slow and steady.
He's attentive, cataloging whenever he makes you moan a little louder or your eyes roll, and repeats it again and again until you're writhing underneath him. Your nails rake down his back and scratch at his scalp, and he jerks forward whenever you're a little too rough, hitting so deep, it feels like he's grazing your cervix. But the longer he continues to give you everything you want, the more his body trembles with the effort of holding himself back.
You know Joel, and you can tell when he's resisting an urge. His biceps tense where he's propped on his forearms, bracketing your head, and there's so little space between you, you can feel his abs flexing every time he plunges back inside you. He needs more and you want to give it to him.
Lifting your head, you bridge the tiny gap to meet his lips. "Joel, c'mon. You can fuck me harder than that, I'm not gonna break," you mumble between open-mouthed kisses. That catches him off guard.
He accidentally lets himself go for a thrust or two, and you're cut off by a moan, your walls squeezing him so hard, it's painful. Somehow, you manage to recover just long enough to gasp out the rest. "It's okay if you need something from me, too. Just take it. I trust you."
For an agonizing moment, Joel pauses to observe you, waiting for something in your eyes to contradict the permission you just gave him. But when he doesn't find it, he shakily exhales the breath he'd been holding and his head drops to your shoulder. The groan that follows rumbles so deeply in his chest, it makes your stomach drop. Then, without warning, his hands are gripping your thighs and he's rutting into you like a caged animal finally set free.
There he is. The man who never hesitated to gun down anyone who threatened the safety of his loved ones and did whatever it took to bring his girls home.
Recognition washes over you and fills you with a familiar feeling of security. It's something only Joel has ever been able to give you. You wrap your arms around his neck and bury your face into his hair, hoping to return even a fraction of that feeling.
As he gives into his body, he starts to ramble, his words muffled and lost to your delicate skin. But you don't need to hear him to know what he's saying. With every thrust, the bed frame rattles and gets the message across loud and clear. Your heels dig into his back, encouraging him forward, begging him to keep going, and he obliges, quickly reduced to helpless grunts and curses.
The room gets increasingly hotter and more humid, and the cool air flowing through the window isn't nearly enough to provide relief, but neither of you seems to care. You're a little in love with the way your bodies slip together, sweat and slick intermingling seamlessly.
Everything is so wet, and it feels incredibleâyour skin against his, your walls pulsing around his cock. He's molding into you, so close that you can't do much more than swivel your hips into his, and it's sending you hurtling toward the edge faster than you can fully process. The coarse hair at the base of his cock rubs your clit just right, and when he adjusts the angle to fuck you deeper than before, you hit your peak.
You dissolve into a whimpering mess beneath him, desperately riding out your orgasm as he groans and abruptly bites down on your shoulder. Releasing your legs to grab your waist, he forces himself impossibly further inside you and grinds into your spasming walls until he's coming with you. He gasps his way through it, stilling while he lets you milk him dry, then collapses on top of you and gathers you in his arms.
For a while, you both struggle to catch your breath. The mattress is bare save for the fitted sheet, your clothes, pillows, and blankets having been kicked or tossed onto the floor. It feels nice like thisâto savor the winter air cooling your bodies and to just be held. Without letting you go, Joel lifts his head to kiss the teeth marks he left on your shoulder apologetically and then shifts higher to press his lips against the underside of your jaw.
"You alright?" he asks gently, his voice a little gruffer than usual from the exertion.
"Mhm," you hum, nosing into his temple. "More than." He sighs and almost sounds relieved.
The thought makes your heart ache. If he's worried he crossed a line, well. He did. You both did, but it was a long time coming and you don't regret a thing. You squeeze him a little tighter as if to tell him, and he allows himself to melt into you briefly. Then, he draws back to cup your cheek and guide your lips to his.
He kisses you slowly, taking the time to appreciate the sensation of your mouth against his without any urgency. "Feel better?" he murmurs after reluctantly parting from you. You keep him close.
"I don't think we have to worry about any more nightmares tonight," you reply with a small smile. He returns it, eyes crinkling fondly, then rolls you onto your sides to settle in for a good night's sleep.
As you start to drift off, you hear him chuckle and mutter something under his breath that you don't quite catch. But it sounds a lot like, "Might be time for you to finally move in."
thanks for reading!
#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller smut#joel miller fanfiction#the last of us fanfiction#tlou fanfiction#pedro pascal characters
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Poly!141, knowing your ex didn't give you the time of day unless he wanted something and refusing to be anything like him. Ghost! who makes sure your lunch is made so that you don't have to worry about it in the morning before work. Price! who makes you dinner when you come home every night and it's always something you like and didn't have to ask for. Johnny! who has taken notes in his phone for your order at every restaurant and memorized which locations are your favorites
Gaz! who insists on doing the grocery shopping and always grabs a little treat for you.
Ghost! who knows how to fold the laundry and insists on helping you which inevitably ends up with him doing it all and sending you off to relax.
Price! who notices when you wake up on the wrong side of the bed and instead of holding it against you, tries to lighten your mood with your favorite snacks and movies.
Johnny! who dotes on you when you're sick with no regard to his own well being, keeping you on a regular schedule of medication and not letting you leave the bed for anything other than showers and bathroom breaks.
Gaz! who knows exactly which tampons and pads you need when your period comes, weighing you down in snacks, pain meds, and massages
Of course, you never want for a good dicking either.
Ghost! who takes you hard and fast, edging you till tears stream down your cheeks
"Aw, don't look at me like that, luv. You'll get to cum...eventually"
Price! who has you in a mating press every chance he gets, whispering in your ear about how pretty you'd look with a belly swollen with his kid.
"Gonna put a baby right here, little bird. pump you so full it has to take."
Johnny! who is willing to try anything. You want him to fuck your ass? He's scissoring his fingers inside you expertly. You want to peg him? Absolutely, just be nice, eh?
"Fuck, lass. I think you fuck me better than the boys"
(and of course, you take that to heart and brag to the others)
Gaz! who will spend hours with his face between your thighs until your crying from overstimulation and trying to get away from his expert tongue while he drags you back to him.
"Don't run from me, pet. You're just so sweet, I can't help myself"
#call of duty x reader#captain john price#cod fanfic smut#johnny soap mactavish#johnny soap mctavish x reader#kyle gaz garrick#kyle gaz x reader#poly!141#simon riley x reader#task force 141 x reader#cod headcanons#simon ghost riley#simon riley#johnny soap mctavish x you
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â
logan canât sleep without you
a/n : shorter thoughts formatted like this now! (~800 words)
logan had spent the first hour lying still, one arm thrown over his face, trying to block out the dim light filtering in from the window. heâd turned over a few times, each time expecting to feel you beside him, your steady breathing lulling him to sleep, but the space was empty. cold.
he grumbled to himself, shifting his body again, tossing the blanket off because suddenly it felt too hot. you werenât gone for long. just out of town for a few days, something you had to take care of. youâd kissed him before you left, told him not to worry. he didnât. not in the way you probably thought, anyway.
but this... this wasnât normal. he could feel the fatigue in his bones, weighing down on him like gravity, but sleep just wouldnât come. his mind kept wandering back to the same thought. you. where you were, what you were doing. it wasnât that he doubted you could handle yourself. hell, you were tougher than most people he knew. it wasnât even that.
it was the goddamn silence. the empty space next to him where you shouldâve been. it was all wrong.
logan rolled over again, eyes squeezing shut as if forcing them closed would somehow drag him into sleep. his body ached from the dayâs work, muscles heavy and begging for rest, but his mind refused to follow. his thoughts were too loud, too restless. heâd grown too used to your presence beside him. too used to the way your fingers would brush against his skin unconsciously in the middle of the night, grounding him in that quiet way only you could.
he opened his eyes again, staring at the ceiling. âthis is ridiculous,â he muttered to himself, voice low and rough.Â
another hour passed with no sleep in sight, and his frustration was only growing. he shifted again, flipping onto his side and glaring at the empty space where youâd normally be curled up against him.Â
the sound of the front door unlocking made him sit up quickly, heart kicking up a beat, though heâd never admit it. he listened as your footsteps padded softly into the room, and there you were - finally. you smiled at him, a bit tired but happy to be home.
âhey,â you whispered, setting your bag down quietly. âdidnât mean to wake you.â
âyou didnât,â logan muttered, voice rougher than usual. he tried to play it cool, but he was already moving over, making space for you in the bed, his eyes glued to your every movement. âcouldnât sleep.â
you paused, giving him a curious look. âcouldnât sleep?â you repeated, pulling off your jacket and slipping into bed beside him.Â
logan huffed. âdonât make a thing outta it,â he grumbled, but the second you were close enough, he wrapped an arm around your waist, tugging you against his chest. âjust⊠missed you, is all.â
you couldnât help but smile at how gruff he sounded, the way his words were soft despite the grumbling. âi missed you too,â you whispered, snuggling into him. you could feel how tightly he was holding onto you, something protective in the way his body curled around yours.
âyeah, well⊠donât leave again,â he muttered, his hand coming up to brush the hair from your face, his touch surprisingly gentle. he pressed a kiss to your temple, a little grumpy but undeniably affectionate.
âyou got all needy without me, huh?â you teased lightly, expecting him to grumble back, but instead, he just pulled you closer, his face buried in your hair.
âmaybe,â he mumbled against your skin, his voice barely above a whisper.Â
your heart softened at his admission. it wasnât like him to need anyone, let alone admit it, but there he was, holding onto you like you were the only thing that could give him peace.Â
you smiled into the darkness, your fingers tracing small circles on his arm. âiâm not going anywhere.â
logan didnât say anything else, just pressed his face closer to your neck, breathing you in, like that alone was enough to finally let him relax. within minutes, his breathing slowed, his grip around you loosening slightly as sleep finally took over.
you stayed like that, wrapped up in his warmth, his usual tough exterior softened just for you. and as you drifted off, you couldnât help but smile, knowing that despite all his grumbling, despite how hard he tried to hide it, he needed you as much as you needed him.
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#jay writes!#logan howlettđ#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett smut#wolverine x reader#logan howlett#logan howlett fanfiction#deadpool and wolverine#logan howlett imagine#deadpool#deadpool 3#poolverine#hugh jackman smut#hugh jackman#hugh jackman x reader#wolverine smut#wolverine x deadpool#wolverine x you#james howlett#loganpool#logan howlett x you#logan x reader#logan wolverine#james logan howlett#wolverine#the wolverine#hugh jackman edit#hugh jackman icons#hugh jackman wolverine#old man logan
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rafe cameron x sleepy!reader
summary : you were just the sleepiest girl of the town. (kinda sweet smutty prompt / etablished relationship. soft! boyfriend!rafe.)
warnings : except smut, nothing much. bad sleeping shedule.
author's note : /.
â Iâm fucking tired.â you yawned as you entered the room. since the beginning of the evening, you had only been looking forward to getting back to the soft comfort of your bed.
you couldn't help but become sleepy, which meant letting your boyfriend take care of you because you were unable to stay awake. you never needed to be careful because rafe cameron always had his eyes on you. and as long as you were next to him, as long as he could feel you even if you were dead asleep and drooling over his chest, he allowed you to take a nap on his lap for hours. it was one of your few privileges.
something he didn't allow was people waking you up. if it he had to shut down every fucking noisy kook in a room to let you sleep, he would do it. it was his own version of let me burn the world for you but in a better way, more like let me quit this entire world for you.
you loved these moments of calm and peace when you slept wearing only one of his t-shirts acting like a dress around your naked body, and white high socks.
rafe was spooning you while you were already falling asleep, the reassuring and warm feeling of his cold fingers slipping under your t-shirt, his large hands covering the flesh of your waist , letting his strong arms gently slowly pulling you towards him. the shushing sound of his lips hovering your neck as you were dragged by his thick fingers. your barely covered body lazily comes closer, as soft breaths break the silence of your mouth, quickly followed by the sleepy whines of your tall boyfriend that holds his grip tighter in your hips, making sure you can't go anywhere, even if you were in a deep sleep.
you had a complicated relationship with your sleep schedule because you were sleeping both too much and not enough at the same. you could be fully awake at 5am but literally dead asleep at 12pm. for the simple reason that you were not sleeping at the right time, nor at the right hour, nor in the right place. you were one of those sleepiest girls who would disappear for hours not because you were going out on the town with friends or even stepping foot outside, but because you would sleep for hours on end.
you told rafe that you were just closing your eyes to take a nap but you ended up waking up in the evening.
when you woke up, you were completely lost and disorganized but above all so tired. it was almost ridiculous. your boyfriend was now used to your eyes half-closed, your hair completely messed up and across your exhausted face, drool on the corner of your lip with that oh-so-stupid expression.
he lay down on the bed, while you looked at him with wide opened eyes. at this point, you weren't even sure you recognized your own boyfriend. â rafe ? â
âstill asleep, babe? "
his voice was usually low, while he brushed away the trail of drool that was leaking from your mouth with his thumb. you nodded, and he smiled. â such a baby. â
you were a terrible temptation. he could have fucked you while you were sleeping. and maybe that was even what you wanted sometimes when you slept so scantily dressed, leaving your tiny thong in full view while you lay on your back, legs unconsciously spread.
âlet me help youâŠâ he whispered as he flipped you onto the bed, pushing your thighs apart to make himself a place. he had pulled down his boxers without removing them completely, before forcing your legs open with one hand. "fucking wet. i bet you dreamed about that dick inside you."
the smirk on his face was pretty charming and sick, and he pushed the fat tip of his cock against your soaked slit, before making morning slaps on your little glistening cunt. his length was so hard, hitting your sensitive bud. the plushy mushroom getting glossy from your weeping hole. he looked at you, holding his dick in a hand with your wetness dripping from the shaft, as you had a hard times focusing on his movements but he squeezed your cheeks on his hands, pulling your face closer to him. â get that mouth open, want to be able to spit on it whenever i want. â
it was also a pretty excuse for him to force you to keep your eyes open. when he first pushed in with a hard thrust that literally arched all your body, you screamed out of pleasure and pain. he didn't wait before starting working his dick faster in your swollen cunt. you always take him so good, and he can't help but pound you even deeper every time he hears your sleepily voice moaning softly, the whining getting louder and bigger as he stretches you open. you were too good, a forbidden pleasure for sure, your sloppy pussy fully soaked him.
little by little, you begin to be fully awake, eyes filled with shining tears. you were a mess that was crying and panting from the roughness of your boyfriend, crybaby whines begging for rafeâs attention. your mouth getting muffled by his, he shushed you through the kiss, heavy breath and drool falling between your lips. â s-s-slow down ! â you cried out.
he mocked you gently, answering with a wicked smile. â what about faster ? thought that's what you wanted ? âhe was still fucking you, but now a hand reached your throat, as the thickness of his length stuffed the inside of your walls, hitting all the spots. â r-rafe. â you exploded.
you were shaking, gasping for air and throbbing, eyes still locked in rafe's gaze while you lost your mind, thinking of how deep he was inside you. your cunt still twitching around his cock, making you unable to catch your breath and literally choking against the hand pressed on your throat. you were already tired, the inner of your thighs dripping with arousal and legs breaking with each thrusts. and those massive orgasms didn't help. his face was now sweaty from the heat and the sex, hot breaths escaping his lips and absolutely no sign of exhaustion. he could fuck you to death. and you wish you could reach this level but you were already too drained by the fast back and forth. â this is how i should wake up my sleepy girl every morning. don't you think ? â
he finally managed to cum, spilling thicks of loads inside you. your head failing in the bed as he slowly pulled his dick out, before pushing it into your mouth. the sight of your tongue licking every single drop of juice left him even horny, your pretty lips weeped with cum and wetness, that he smeared with the tip of his cock, before letting you clean everything.
â it was not a fuck, it was an attempted murder. â you told him.
â don't inspire me for round 2, you will regret it. â
â don't complain me about why i sleep this much when you fucking me like that. â
â i'm fucking tiredâŠâ you said, a little yawn leaving your mouth as rafe and you entering the room after a living pool party, were you literally rested on your boyfriendâs lap during all the event, falling asleep on his shoulder as he was still talking with his friends.
he was now used to since he dated you from a long moment. he was now able to take care of you every time you fell asleep. as always, there was no warning. you could be smiling, living the party, it doesn't mean you were not sleepy. He sometimes complained about how much you slept, but at the same time, how much you didn't get enough sleep.
â no shit. you were literally drooling over me. â he said sarcastically. â lift your arms. â he commanded, before helping you remove your dress.
he almost passed out when your breasts literally bounced out of your bra as your arms leaned down, his dick slightly growing and forming a bulge inside his pants. but damn, it was not the moments because he knows for sure that you will now fall asleep. AGAIN.
â do you think topper is mad at me for sleeping at his birthdayâs party ? â
â do i look like the type of boyfriend that i care about what another man is feeling about my girlfriend ? because, i'm not. â
â it was rudeâŠ. it's his birthday ! â
â babe, i could even fuck you right in front of him that he wouldn't even care or remarks. don't you see how he was just drooling like a dog because of my sister ? â
â maybe, i should callâŠâ
rafe had raised an eyebrow, his jaw twitching slightly as you pulled on one of his t-shirts. â since when do you have topperâs number ? â
âI mean with your phone. Why would I have his number. Anyways, i'm sorry for thisâŠit's pretty embarrassing. â
â What about looking me in the eyes if you at least want me to believe you about your apologies?â
â Don't fight me right now, i'm tired.â
â And actually, when you're not ? â he mocked, and you finally looked at him.
â When i'm sleeping, it's obvious. â
â You forget when i fuck youâ. It doesn't seems like you're very tired. â
after showering and brushing your teeths, you moved to your favorite place in the world â your bed. you loved the clean of the sheets. you covered yourself with the blanket, dropping only your head out.
when rafe appareaded, you couldn't help but stare at his perfect body. you followed his moves, lurking to the good and big shape of his biceps, the well-sculpted ridges of his abs, the visible v-line curved on his hips. â don't look at me like that. â he warned.
â then i will look at someone else. â
â funny. â he said, chuckling without smiling. â that you think i will let you do such a thing. but keep daydreaming. â
â no need to be jealous. there is no kooks better than you. â
â does it mean there are pogues better than me ? â
you sighed, shaking your head and crossing your arms.
â i don't even hang out with pogues ! don't take it in the wrong way. what about watching a good movie before sleeping ? â
â be serious. i know you well, you're gonna fall asleep before the movie even starts. â
â no ! i'm fully awake. â
â which movies do you want to watch ? and there is no way i'm gonna watch that fucking film with a black cat and a ladybug. â
â then what about five nights at Freddy's ? â
â sounds better. â he simply said, while typing on the dashboard.
your gaze leaned down on his ringed fingers, fast and thick. your slowly opened your lips, imagining how much they can stretch your mouth, leaving her with a pool of drool from how wet they're from your saliva. but also, how much they will manage to keep your mouth open without effort.
a sparkle shone in your eyes, and you wrapped your arm around rafe's one, making him look without really giving you full attention. â what you want ? â
â nothing. did you find the movie ? â
â you like horror movies ? â
â no, i like josh. â
â bet he died at the end of the movie. â
â rafe ! â
â yea, keep crying. â
he started the movie but you were very sleepy. again. you forced yourself to keep your eyes open but it was really hard. you blinked so many times to fight the urge of sleeping, but you're finally falling asleep.
rafe didn't stopped the movie because he was now too invested in it, but let your head rest against his naked chest, stroking your hair gently.
at the beginning of your relationship, it was so new for him to be this close to a person, to reach this type of intimacy but now he was craving for it, finding peace and comfort.
you were his sleepy girlfriend that was now sleeping over him, but will probably wake up in five hours when he will be dead asleep while, you will be looking for a nocturnal activity, trying to not wake him up.
sometimes, and a lot of times, you have sleepless nights that make you even more tired, and fall asleep early or late in the morning. you could feel though the sleep, rafe's arm loosening around your body as he manages to leave the bed to start the day while you just catching your night.
â good morning, rafe. â
â it's 7pm. â
â ... â
#dividers by anitalenia#dividers by aquazzero#sleepy!reader#rafe x sleepy!reader#for all the girls who sleep too much or not enough#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron prompt#rafe cameron concepts#rafe x reader#rafe cameron x you#rafe obx#rafe cameron x female reader#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron x kook!reader#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron smut#boyfriend!rafe#rafe x y/n#rafe x you#obx smut#obx fluff#rafe cameron fluff#soft!rafe cameron#soft!rafe x reader
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CAN U PLZ DO BABY DADDY SUKUNA AND SURUGU TOO?? (i love u)
THAT'S JUST MY BABY DADDY! #3 â GETO + SUKUNA
SYNOPSIS...geto and sukuna being annoying baby daddies that still make their way into your pants
INFO...sukuna x fem!reader, geto x fem!reader, p in v, sloppy kisses, baby daddy drama (yk the drill), jealousy, alcohol mentioned, possessiveness, choking, spanking
OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated
thanks for the request anon (i love you too)
part 1 part 2
SUKUNA
you finally got your daughter down to sleep, placing her stuffie beside her, shutting her light off and walking out her room. Just as you were getting ready to wash the dishes, your doorbell rang, an annoyed sigh leaving your lips. âWho the hell is ringing my doorbell so late?â You stomp over to the door. âWho is it?â You call out.
âRyo!â No one other than your baby daddy. As if you werenât already annoyed, you roll your eyes and open the door to see him standing there. His eyes rake over your body as if he didnât see you just an hour ago when he dropped his daughter off. âI left her blanket at my place. Thought I bring it back.â He stepped into your house without hesitation.
âDamn, well come on in,â you scoff, shutting the door behind him. He tosses the blanket on the couch. âSheâs sleeping, so donât wake her.â You walk towards the sink, turning it on.
He hums in response, walking around your house, seeing how tidy you keep it, remembering all the moments you two shared before breaking up. He ever so carefully walks up behind you, leaning against the counter. He just looks at you, smirking to himself. âI can feel you staring, weirdo.â You glance over your shoulder.
He laughs, throwing his hands up in defeat. âCan you blame me?â He exhales, stepping closer and closer until heâs inches away from you. His hands reach out and snake around your waist, startling you. âHowâve you been?â He asks, his sultry tone sending chills down your spine.
You shake your head at his weak attempt to get in your pants. âLeave me alone, Ryomen.â You nudge him with your elbow.
âCome on! I know youâre not getting good dick anywhere else. When was the last time we did it, huh? A month?â He questions. You groan in annoyance, turning the sink off and drying your hands on the towel.
âThat was the final time.â You stare at him. âWe promised no more after that.â
âYou really think I meant it? Think a promise is gonna keep me away from you?â He cages you in between him and the counter.
âIâm not just some girl youâre gonna fuck when you wanna get your dick wet.â You push him away from you and walk over to the couch to grab your daughterâs blanket. âFind someone else.â
He laughs at your stubbornness, trailing behind you. âYou know no one tastes or feels as good as you. Why do you think I keep coming back, hm?â He narrows his eyes at you.
âRyomen, Iâm not doing this shit with you tonight. Get your dick wet somewhere else,â you say, annoyance in your tone. His warm hands find your waist once again and heâs pulling you closer to him. His soft lips kiss down your neck and back up towards your jaw.
âJust once more. I swear thatâll be the last time,â he whispers. And you donât know if he casted some type of spell on you or something because within the next five minutes he was in your bed.
Your knees were pushed to your chest, a long whine leaving your lips every time he hit your g-spot, sending waves of pleasure through your body. âFeel so fucking good around me,â he grunts, pressing his forehead against yours. âThatâs right, lemme look into those eyes, show me how good I make you feel.â
Youâre clinging onto his biceps, nails leaving crescent marks in his skin the harder and faster he goes. God, you hate to admit how good it feels. How good he feels. âMmmm, Ryo. Fuck!â You moan, your jaw slack as pushes his cock deeper.
âCan feel this pussy squeezing me. You gonna cum, baby? Yeah? Yeah?â He coos, a smug smile on his face as he pushes your legs farther. âThere you go, baby. Yes, cum all on my dick. Goddamn.â He watches your eyes roll back, a soft cry leaving your lips, your body shaking.
âThisâŠthis is the last time!â You manage to speak, looking up at him through your lashes.
âShut up.â He kisses you sloppily, swiping his tongue against yours, continuing to pound your poor cunt. He knows this wonât be the last just as much as you know. Youâre only saying it to make yourself feel better about cumming on his dick so easily.
GETO
after a stressful week, you were finally able to go out and have fun with your best friend, Shoko, while Utahime offered to watch your daughter for the night. It felt good to get out, drinking, dancing, a change of scenery compared to being cooped up in the house all day. Youâre swaying your hips to the music, taking shots and you can already feel the regret coming next morning.
âHey!â Shoko shouts. âI think Suguru is here!â She looks in the direction where heâs sitting.
âWhat?â You lean in closer towards her.
âSuguru! Heâs here!â She points towards the crowd and to where the seating area is. You follow to where to points and see Suguru talking to some random girl on his lap, laughing his way into some mediocre sex.
âSo what?!â You shout back, shrugging your shoulders. âHe probably doesnât even know Iâm here! Fuck it!â You smile at Shoko, grabbing her to dance.
âIâm gonna go grab another drink!â She lets go of your hand and walks towards the bar.
Youâre too tipsy to even care, in your own little world, dancing and eyeing all the handsome men around you. âExcuse me?â You feel hands on your waist and turn to see a tall, muscular man looking right at you. âSorry, I just wanted to say youâre beautiful. I saw you dancing from over there!â He points to his seating lounge. âWanna come sit?â
âThank you!â You smile, placing your hand on his broad chest. âIâm here with my friend. Can we wait for herâoh there she is. Shoko!â You wave her over and she hurries through the crowd. âHe invited us to sit with him, come on.â
âFuck it, Iâm down.â She sips from her drink.
The man grabs your hand and leads you through the crowd of people. It felt good to sit after standing in heels all night. After settling down you could finally get a better look at the man, noticing his sharp features and the scar on the corner of his lip. How handsome he was. What you didnât notice was how closely Suguru was watching you, eyeing your every move. He took notice of the way your hand ended up on that guys thigh, how easily you laughed at his jokes.
âIâll be back, gonna grab us some shots.â The girl got up from off his lap.
âYeah, you do that.â He said without moving an inch, so fixated on you and you only. He couldnât deny how good you looked tonight. Hands and toes freshly did, your hair in a style heâs never seen, and that dress that hugged your body so tight, showing off every curve you had. Without hesitation, he got up from his seat and walked over.
Shoko looked behind her just in time, eyes wide before immediately turning to face you. âHeâs coming over.â She tapped your leg.
âHuh?â Your brows creased.
âSuguru!â She yelled in a whisper. âHeâs walking overâheyyyy!â She smiled up at him.
âHey, Shoko. Hey, y/n.â He greeted you.
You ignored him, sipping from your glass, hugging against the man who you knew as Toji, his arm wrapped around your waist. There was an awkward tension in the air, Shoko clearing her throat as she smiled.
âY/n, can I talk to you really quick?â He stood in front of you now. âWeâll just be five minutes.â He looked at Toji, grabbing you away from him.
âUgh, what do you want? Do you have to ruin every fun thing I do?â You follow him into the bathroom. He locks the door, standing before you, looking into your eyes. âWhat, Suguru?â You fold your arms over your chest.
He knows heâs tipsy, and so are you but he canât deny what heâs feeling right now and from the looks of it, he can tell youâre feeling the same exact way. âYou piss me off. But fuck, you look good doing it. Hugging up on that random ass guy, touching him.â He grits his teeth.
âDonât be a hypocrite. I saw your little girlfriend sitting on your lap earlier. Where is she now?â You raise a brow.
âSheâs a random girl. Donât even know her name. Why? You jealous?â He walks closer towards you, closing the gap.
âAre you?â You retort, never breaking eye contact with him. Thereâs several seconds of silence besides the blaring music in the background, until his lips are suddenly on yours, stealing every breath.
Minutes later, youâre bent over the bathroom sink, your skirt bunched up at your waist while he pounds into you. His hand is wrapped around your throat as you grip the sink, feeling like your legs were about to give out any second. âSuguâŠfuck!â You whimper. His hips slam against yours, your body jolting forward.
âThatâs right, pretty. This is my pussy. Look at how well sheâs taking me,â he chuckles, looking down at the way his cock disappears inside of you so effortlessly. âMy god.â He lands a few harsh slaps on your ass.
Youâre reaching out, pushing back on his stomach in attempts to get him to slow down, feeling like you were going to crumble beneath him. âShit! Shit! Shit!â You cry. âYouâre so fucking deep!â You gasp.
âYeah?â He pulls you flush against his chest, nibbling on your earlobe. âThatâs just how you like it. Deep and slow, hard and fast. I know all the ways to make you cum,â he whispers. He grips your throat tighter. Plap! Plap! Plap! âBetter hope your new boyfriend doesnât realize how long youâve been gone. Donât want him to get suspicious.â
Your body convulses as a harsh orgasm takes over you. âAh! Iâm cumming!â You whine before your jaw drops. Geto can feel your pussy fluttering around his cock, making it hard for him not to cum inside. But, now that he thinks about itâŠthat wouldnât be all too bad.
#ââclassyrbf#jjk#jujustu kaisen#jjk x reader#jjk smut#geto x reader#geto suguru x reader#geto smut#geto suguru smut#geto x reader smut#geto suguru x reader smut#sukuna x reader#ryomen sukuna x reader#sukuna smut#ryomen sukuna smut#sukuna x reader smut#ryomen sukuna x reader smut#jjk x reader smut
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hello mae! I had a request Iâd like to give you. I was wondering if you could write a poly!marauders x reader where reader has never slept beside anybody before bc intimacy isnât something sheâs used to therefore sheâs not used to being that close to anybody. everytime she shifts sheâs afraid to wake up the boys, or she just doesnât know what to do.
I know you have âfirst night with maraudersâ so if this is too similar I totally get it. đ€
Hello sweetheart, thank you for your request!
poly!marauders x fem!reader ⥠990 words
Youâre terrible at this.Â
Each of the boys is sound asleep. Sirius has his leg hooked over yours and one of his arms tossed over Jamesâ chest, Remusâ hand has to be halfway numb underneath your pillow, and James is snoring softly on the far side of the bed from you. Theyâre all so obviously comfortable, practiced in resting like this, whereas you started to get stiff a half hour ago and youâve been unable to make yourself relax since.Â
Every movement takes a year, youâre trying so hard not to wake them. You feel like the girl in a movie whoâs trying to sneak out of the bed of a one-night stand, all taut muscles and bated breath, except you only want to roll over. Slow, microscopic movements have to be the key.Â
Your back crackles softly when you shift your weight onto your other hip, and a sigh escapes you before you can stop it.Â
A low, croaky hum comes from just in front of your face. Your brain is a tempest of expletives.Â
âHey.â You can nearly feel the gravel of Remusâ voice buzzing against your lips. âYouâre up.âÂ
Muddled with sleep, you canât tell if his tone is reprimanding or simply observational. âSorry,â you whisper regardless.Â
âWhaâ for?â Movement under the pillow beneath your head, and then a long-fingered hand is nestling beneath your cheek. His scars and calluses slide familiarly over your skin. âCanât sleep?â
Nope, and now itâs two of you. Guilt grows vines around your ribcage. Remus sounds more awake by the second.Â
âIâll be okay.â You press a soft kiss to the corner of his lips, hoping to mollify him. âGo back to sleep.âÂ
Your boyfriend makes a half-aware disgruntled sound. âNo, not without you.âÂ
As exhausted as you are, you have to bite down on a smile. When heâs uninhibited like this, Remus really is quite the flirt, all his dorky, sweet thoughts coming out before he can remember to stop them. Heâs nearly as bad as James.Â
You think he must see a hint of your smile in the dark, because Remusâ own lips tilt upwards. He leans closer to kiss the cool skin of your cheek, the only cold part of you thanks to a heavy duvet and the body heat of three lovely boyfriends. A kiss for a kiss.Â
He leaves his lips there as he murmurs, âWhatâs wrong, dove?âÂ
Well, funny he should ask. Whatâs wrong now is the slight tickle of his stubble against your cheek, the hoarse quality to his voice in your ear. His breath warming your cold skin, and the hand he slides across the space between you to rest on your hip, layered in between the sheets and your pajama bottoms.Â
But you know thatâs not what heâs asking.Â
âI canât get very comfortable,â you confess, speaking so softly he wouldnât be able to make it out if his ear werenât two inches from your lips, âand I didnât want to wake anyone up.âÂ
Remus hums, as though this is a prognosis heâd already reached and was merely waiting for you to confirm. You can hear Siriusâ voice as clearly as if he were awake: know it all.Â
âThey can sleep through anything,â he says. âOne time the fire alarm went off, and James didnât even stir. Donât worry about them.â You must be emanating guilt, because he strokes his thumb over your hip pacifyingly. âAnd I donât mind being woken up. Iâm in and out of sleep all night anyway, itâs not hard for me to get back. Youâre not used to sleeping with so many people, yeah?âÂ
Your face warms at his phrasing, though of course you know what he means. âOr with anyone,â you murmur.Â
âMm. I think I know what you need.âÂ
You donât realize Remusâ plan until heâs already sat up. He reaches over you, rubbing Jamesâ shoulder gently while you protest vehemently through whispers.Â
James wakes with a yawn, taking Remusâ hand automatically and bringing it close to his face. âWhaâsâit?â
âTake her,â Remus requests drowsily. With his other hand, he nudges you forward.Â
James starts to blink his eyes open, and you see no way out. You start climbing over Sirius as delicately as you can. âSorry,â you whisper, to him, to them, to the room in general.Â
Remus helps you out by tugging Sirius into your place. The other boy whines but settles quickly, rolling over to sling his leg over Remusâ instead.Â
James welcomes you as heartily as his sleep-addled state will allow, adjusting the covers over you and smudging a few toothpaste-scented kisses onto your face.Â
âYâcanât sleep?â he asks.Â
You shake your head. âSorry.âÂ
He makes a soft dismissive sound. âCâmere, angel.âÂ
You refrain from telling him that youâre already here as his arms find their way around you, soft and firm in all the right places and deliciously warm. He starts to make slow, sweeping circles onto your back with his hand.Â
âJamie,â you murmur, grateful but embarrassed, âdonât stay up for me. Go to sleep.âÂ
âMâbasically there,â he replies. âYou first, yeah?âÂ
You can hear Remusâ breathing evening out behind you, syncing with Siriusâ, and youâre suddenly sure that this is part of a routine he and the boys shared before you ever met them. Thatâs how he knew to hand you off to James, and how James knew exactly what to do. Something about that comforts you. And far be it for you to mess with tradition.Â
You shuffle closer to James under the covers. He obliges you happily, adjusting his grip so heâs holding you more securely, with your leg resting against his and your forehead an inch from his nose. The shushing of his heavy palm on the material of your pajama top is the only sound in the world.Â
You hear his breathing starting to deepen again, but James is right; you beat him there.Â
#poly!marauders#poly!marauders x reader#poly!marauders x fem!reader#poly!marauders x y/n#poly!marauders x you#poly!marauders x self insert#poly!marauders fanfiction#poly!marauders fanfic#poly!marauders fic#poly!marauders fluff#poly!marauders hurt/comfort#poly!marauders imagine#poly!marauders scenario#poly!marauders drabble#poly!marauders blurb#poly!marauders one shot#poly!marauders oneshot#marauders#marauders fandom#marauders fanfiction#the marauders#hp marauders#marauders era#james potter#james potter x reader#sirius black#sirius black x reader#remus lupin#remus lupin x reader#marauders x reader
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fast forward - pjs
pairing. jay x fem!reader
synopsis. After yet another romantic disappointment in the form of one Jake Sim, you go to the well youâve always believed to grant wishes and ask for your one and true love to appear. That night, you go to sleep in your bed but wake up in a strange house. When you head downstairs, you find a man washing the dishes and telling you your favorite meal is waiting on the table for you. Youâve spent hours glaring at the back of that head, you could recognize it anywhereâit belongs to none other than Park Jongseong, your high school sworn enemy... and future husband, or so it seems.
genre+warnings. high school au, the type of e2l where they never really hated each other to begin with, they act like they're academic rivals even though they're not particularly academically gifted, jay has a thing about german the language, sunoo and kazuha besties, heeseung is a loser, jake and sunghoon are assholes sorry, ive liz is german, 02z get into a white-boy locker-room fight, attempts at banter etc, they're a little bit silly
word count. 26.6k
a/n. had the idea for this listening to fast forward by somi LAST SUMMER... and only wrote it this summer and only posting it now <3 i hope u guys enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it !!!!! jay is an absolute cutie here pls love him as much as i do.... as always let me know what u think and remember to vote for @zreamy president in the upcoming elections, shes the only one i trust to beta-read and hence to run a country <3 no it doesnt matter that shes scottish put this woman in the white house
There is only one thorn on the otherwise immaculate rose that is your life.
Every morning, you wake up feeling refreshed from eight hours of restful sleep. You go downstairs to the kitchen, a boiling cup of milky Earl Grey tea already waiting for you, and eat breakfast with your brother Jinwoo and father. Your mom dashes in, placing a kiss on your and Jinwooâs foreheads, and on your dadâs lips, saying sheâs late for work but will see you in the evening. âHave fun at school,â she bids every morning without fail. Your dad teaches Korean Literature at your school, so the three of you drive there together. He watches amusedly as you and Jinwoo bicker light-heartedly on the way thereâeven in the pits of his puberty, you and your brother get along like two peas in a pod. He still tells you about everything he learns at school and fills you in on the drama in his class, up-to-date with everything even though he pretends not to be interested.
Youâre always one of the first to arrive at school, so you scroll through your feed or finish up some homework as you wait for your classmates to file in. Your friends circle your table and you chat about the last episode of the show youâve been watching until the bell rings and they leave you for their assigned seat.
Class starts with your teacher handing out the math tests you took last week. âJay and Y/N, great job, keep it up,â he says as he walks past you and the boy in front of you, and hands you your paper. Relief floods your body as you take in the bright red 82 in the top right-hand cornerânot the best of the class, but enough for you to be satisfied.Â
Good friends, good gradesânothing extraordinary, but itâs a life you dare say any high school senior would want.
Thereâs just that one thing. The thorn in your side that wonât stop poking.
You glare at it as it whips around in its seat and takes a peek at the grade on your paper before you get to snatch it away from view. It only gives you three seconds to rejoice over your grade.Â
âAw, Y/N. Good effort! Maybe youâll do better next time!â Jongseong coos, holding up his test for you to see and glare even harder at. 85. Not that big of a difference, but it makes you want to punch the faux sympathetic pout off of his face.Â
Youâre about to spit something just as petty back at him, but someone whispers your name, and you turn your head in their direction. Beside you, Jake is smiling at you as he asks what grade you got. Your attention is swiftly taken off of Jongseong, whom you donât even notice dramatically rolling his eyes, huffing in annoyance, and turning around.Â
â82,â you whisper back, holding up your paper for Jake to see. His friendly, absurdly handsome smile makes your ears burn. âYou?â
The corners of his lips fall down into a sad poutâthe kind that makes your heart melt rather than gets on your nerves like someone else. â68,â he says. Leans in over the gap between your tables. Your heart jumps uncontrollably around your rib cage. âDo you wanna go over it together during the break? I think I need some help.â
One-on-one time with Jake Sim? You donât need to be asked twice. You nod silently, almost mesmerized by Jake as his grin widens. He leans back in his chair. âPerfect. Iâll see you in the library, then.â
âLibrary, yeah,â you echo dumbly, but thankfully, your teacher tells you to all quiet down and starts the lesson.Â
Youâre antsy all throughout the rest of your morning classes and lunch break, so nervous that you barely manage to finish your yogurt. Of course, your friends, Sunoo and Kazuha, have a field day with this, and even you canât help but laugh along as they jump between reassuring you that itâll be fine, slapping your shoulders with excitement and making fun of your uncharacteristic quietness.
Jake arrives at the library five minutes after you, looking around the room before he finds you at the big round table in the back of the library. Your brain is too riddled with anxiety for you to make more small talk than âHey,â âHey,â âHow was your lunch?â âGood, yours?â âGood.â And so you just jump straight into it.
Youâve only had a couple minutes of quiet explanation on your part and heavy nodding on Jakeâs when Jay appears at the entrance of the library. He spots you and Jake immediately, and without any hesitation whatsoever heads towards you and sits down at your table, right across from the two of you.
âHey, Jay,â Jake greets in a friendly manner, but Jay only responds with a nod of his head.
âOh, donât mind me,â he says when he notices you glaring. âI wonât bother you.â
As if he could be anything other than a bother, you think, but courteously keep to yourself. The childish rivalry you and Jongseong have got going on has no business spoiling a rare hour of alone time you get with Jake. As you go over the exercises he had the most trouble with on the test with you, your eyes often drift over to Jongseong as if to check on himâyouâre cautious like heâs a spider in the corner of the room that might spring on you at any moment.
And indeed, the moment your gaze leaves him for more than a minute as you explain an intricate theorem to Jake, heâs out of sight, and panic shoots through you. Where the hell has he suddenly gone off to? you wonder, but not for long.
âThereâs a much easier way to do this, really,â says a voice from behind you, and of course, itâs none other than Jongseong himself, quite literally butting his way into your tutoring session. Right between you and Jake, he bends over and rests his elbows on the table, taking Jakeâs pencil from him and describing the theorem in a way that isnât that much simpler. Your eyes shoot bullets into the side of his face while he, unbothered, explains this and that to Jake, who glances at you a couple of times but otherwise does not seem so perturbed by the sudden change of tutor. Either Jongseong doesnât notice your glare or doesnât care, because he doesnât budge.
Just when theyâre done with the exercise and you think youâll get Jake to yourself again, another voice appears from behind, a much higher, girlier one. You notice the hand on Jakeâs shoulder first, until slowly, your eyes drift to the faceâyou recognize Yunjin, head of the cheerleading squad, and sheâs smiling at you, a smile that at once tries to cover and betrays her surprise at seeing you and Jake together. She doesnât acknowledge you any more than that, gaze going back to âJakey,â asking him if he wants to head to class together. You check the timeâfive minutes before the first bell rings. What do they need so much time getting to class for? Itâs not like any room in this school is more than a three-minute walk away.
But Jake doesnât even look back at you, just says âSure!â with far too much enthusiasm for your taste as he packs his stuff. âThanks, you two,â he says, looking at Jay first, then at you. You think his eyes linger on you for a second, but just like that, heâs gone, him and Yunjin walking side-by-side.
You watch them leaveâthey look good together, the cheerleading captain and the soccer teamâs star. The white Vans sheâs wearing have a bunch of red love hearts on them that look drawn on, and you think, Of course, Jake is the type to date someone cute, someone fun, someone who would draw on their shoes. Not someone like you, whose idea of a good Friday night is lighting up a scented candle and reading your favorite novel for the nth time. When theyâve left the library, you slump in your seat, crumpling the sheet of paper you had drawn a bunch of graphs and formulae on to make things clearer for Jake. Jay awkwardly clears his throat and finally returns to his seat, looking at you with his lips pressed in a tight line.
âY/N?â he asks tentatively, and the sound is too much to bear, so you pack your things and head to your next class early, too. Your mind is racing with a million thoughts a minuteâwho is that girl to Jake, how come youâve never seen them together before, how come he was so eager to leave with her, what was that smile she gave you about? In the fifty-five minutes of your biology class, which you uncharacteristically donât pay any attention to, youâve convinced yourself that they are crazy in love and that none of Jakeâs actions or words towards you had ever meant anything, that youâd liked him so much youâd dreamt up the possibility of his liking you back, too.
Your next lesson startsâthe smile Jake gives you as he walks into History is so bright, it dissipates any clouds hanging over your head. You do believe in male-female friendships, but despite yourself, you canât help but think that anyone in a relationship wouldnât give someone else such a perfect, warm smile. It just wouldnât be right. And so, you reason with yourself that simply walking to a class together didnât mean two people were a couple.
For an hour, you stare at the back of Jakeâs head, and although you do eventually come to the more sensible conclusion that a smile may just be a smile, you also think it's unlikely that he and Yunjin would be a thing. If they were, why would they hide it? Jake is so nice, you wouldnât be surprised if heâd exaggerated his enthusiasm upon seeing her. Youâre sure you still have your chances. He even says see you tomorrow when class is over and slips out of the room to go to soccer practice.Â
You feel like youâre walking on cloud 9 as you head from History to your next classâbut when you remember that the next class is German, your mood drops significantly. Because the universe has it out for you, you and Jay are two of just ten students in your year taking German as your second foreign language option, everyone else having gone for either French, Japanese or Spanish. Your reasoning for it is that your dad has had an obsession with Germany since his year abroad in Bavaria, and twelve-year-old you had wanted to make him happy. Eighteen-year-old you regrets it slightly, but at least now your dad is ecstatic every time you tell him in German that the dinner he made was really tasty. Why Jongseong decided to take it beats youâheâs probably just insane.
But because you donât really know anyone else in the class, and because itâs your last period of the day, you have no friends to run off with once the lesson is over, and he gets to bother you all the way from the classroom door to the staff parking lot.Â
Youâve barely finished bidding Auf Wiedersehen to your teacher and Jongseong is already harassing you. âSo, I didnât take you as the type to be into guys like Jake Sim.â He says Jakeâs name with such disdain, like he thinks heâs so much better than him, or like he hates him. It confuses you just as much as it annoys you; Jongseong didnât seem to have a problem with Jake earlier at the library.
âAnd thatâs your business, becauseâŠ?â
You donât look at Jongseong, whoâs quickened his pace to keep up with yours, but you can feel the smirk on his face. Itâs insufferable. âOh, itâs none of my business. Iâm just surprised, is all. You guys are so⊠I donât know, different.â
You scoff. âIf you think Iâm not good enough for someone like Jake, Iâd rather you tell me straight up, Jongseong. Or actually,â you say, looking up at him with a dry smile. âKeep it to yourself and leave me alone.â
He looks offended by your words, and it only adds to your already immense annoyanceâheâs the one who just insulted you, so why is he looking at you with those stupid furrowed eyebrows?
âI never said that.â
âYou didnât need to.â
âNo, Y/N.â He grabs your wrist and makes you face him, your stomach flipping in surprise that you quickly cover up. When he releases you, you cross your arms over your chest and wait for him to speak, keeping your eyes trained on a spot behind him. âI donât think heâs too good for you.âÂ
This makes you look at him. You have to admit, your curiosity is piqued. Not like Jongseong to say anything even vaguely in your favor. âHeâs justâŠâ He sighs, searches for the right word. âWell, heâs just a bit of a dick, isnât he?â
You freeze for a second. Youâre so taken aback, your scoff comes out more as a laughâPark Jongseong, king supreme of all dicks at this school, just called Jake Sim a dick?
âIâm sorry?â
He sighs again, as though youâre the unreasonable one. âHeâs so⊠smug. A wannabe class clown and thinks heâs the shit because heâs on the soccer team. Have you seen the way he swaggers around school?â
You look at him with fake sympathy. âJong, are you jealous?â
âPfft. No way. I just think itâs a shame you keep going after these dudes who are not even worth your time, or whatever, so yeahâŠâ he says, voice trailing off and looking down at his feet as he speaks. Hands in pockets and blank expression on his face, you can tell heâs trying to look cool, but the way heâs avoiding your gaze is a dead give-away. Even his ears have turned red. Jongseong is having one of those shy moments he has when heâs trying to be nice to you. Clearly, a simple act of kindness towards you is so hard for him that it radically changes the way he behaves.Â
Like when you were fifteen and you just couldnât get this stupid art project right, so he stayed behind for three hours after school with you, helping you draw and paint and cut and glue.Â
Like when you were sixteen and your grandma just passed away, making you miss a week of school, and without a word, barely looking at you, he gave you a stack of handwritten notes of all the lessons you missed. To this day, youâre not sure how he did itâyou werenât in the same class that year.
Like when you were seventeen and Park Sunghoon rejected you in the middle of a crowded hallway. Youâd run off to the girlsâ bathroom to cry it out, but Jongseong quickly found you and spent the entire period cursing Sunghoon out instead of being in English, like you were both meant to be. He was uncharacteristically nice to you for a few days after that, never starting an argument for no reason or interrupting you when you spoke. When you snapped at him, telling him it only made you feel worse that he treated you differently, he smiled and told you how stupid you looked when you cried. It made you laugh more than it shouldâve.
Like now, when he suddenly decides that Jake Sim is also a wrong choice for you. âHim and Sunghoon are good friends, you know that?â he says. âBirds of a feather, and allâŠâ
So you know that Jongseong is not all bad. He has his redeeming qualities. He can even be nice sometimes, when he so wishes. But those moments are so few and far between that when he returns to his usual insufferable self, you wonder if youâd dreamt it all up. Which is why you canât quite take him seriously right now. You roll your eyes and resume walking towards the parking lot, but of course, he continues to follow you. âWhy do you even care who I go after?â
âI donât-â
âYou clearly do, otherwise you wouldnât be bothering me like this.â
âWell, if all your attention is taken up by that douche, who am I going to go up against?â
âThatâs what youâre worried about? That I stop arguing with you?â you say, disbelief clear in your voice.
âIâm offended, Y/N,â he starts, his sarcastic tone making you roll your eyes again. âThat our little rivalry matters so little to you.â
âWeâre not even the top students of our class, for Godâs sake, weâre not fighting over anything.â
âIâve actually got the best grades in German, thanks very much.â
âWhatever. I wouldnât call it a rivalry so much as a mutual dislike of each other, because one of us woke up one day and decided to start going against everything the other said.â
âAt least youâre self-aware.â
The exit to the parking lot now appears to you like the gates of heaven. You donât even bother replying to him, thinking that heâll just leave you alone now that youâre here. But as you step outside, he places himself in front of you and blocks your path, arms splayed out, eyes wide like heâs just seen a ghost.
âWhat are you-â
âHave you done the German homework for tomorrow?â
The sudden change of subject gives you whiplash. âWhat? No, Miss Schumacher assigned it just now-â
âWell, given your tendency for getting the word order all wrong, I can already tell you youâre not gonna have fun with it-â
You pinch the nose of your bridge, trying to calm yourself down before you lose whatâs remaining of your mind. âJongseong, were you actually dropped on the head as a baby? Go away. My dadâs gonna be here any second.â You try to walk around him, but he steps in front of you again. You peer up at him, undisguised annoyance in your eyes. Where are your dad and brother when you need them?
âIâm just saying, youâll probably need help with it-â
âI wonât. And if I do, Iâll just use Google. Now get out of my way,â you say, and manage to duck under one of his arms.
Then you see it.
Well, actually, it takes you a second to understand what it is youâre seeing. At first, you think itâs one of those horny couples thinking theyâre being really discreet by going to the staff parking lot to make out, when in reality they could be caught by any one at any time. Theyâre just far enough that when you do a double take, you realize that you do know the back of that head; that fluffy mop of brown hair. You sit behind it every History period, next to it every Maths and English period.
The girl is up against the wall, and you canât really see her, what with her and Jakeâs tongues being down each otherâs throat and his body blocking her from your view, his hands on her hips, her arms around his shoulders. All the works. Sheâs wearing a cheerleader uniform, so she could be any of twenty girlsâbut youâre pretty sure only one of them wears a pair of white Vans with red love hearts on them.
Your heart sinks to your stomach.
Youâre frozen in place when a whistle rings in the distance, and Jake and Yunjin separate, giggling to each other as they jog to wherever the sound came from. The sports field, probably. Itâs Monday; the cheerleaders and the soccer team share the field for their practice.Â
Jake spots you and Jongseong staring at them. He waves quickly, awkwardly at you, still smiling even when surprise coats his features. Yunjin tugs on his hand and just like that, theyâre gone.Â
âY/N-âÂ
Jayâs voice fades in the background. You want to get away from this situation as quickly as possibleâitâs embarrassing enough seeing the guy you like and thought you had a chance with kissing a girl that is arguably much more on his level than you are, but having Jongseong of all people not only witness it, but try to protect you from it, God knows why, makes it impossibly mortifying. You speed-walk to your dadâs car, huffing as you plop in your seat and slamming the door behind you. Your brother is already sitting in the passenger seat, and you donât even argue with him about it. When you only give single-word replies to his questions, he shrugs and returns to playing Clash of Clans on his phone.Â
The moment you get home, you fish a five cent coin from your purse, change into mud boots and grab your dogâs leash. Desperate times call for desperate measures.
After half-an-hour of trudging through leaves and soft ground, muddy from many a rainy November night, you and Pablo, your massive, fluffy airhead of a German Shepherd, find yourselves at the well in the middle of the forest. Ever since you were little, you have attributed magic powers to the wellânot that anyone told you any sort of myth about it, but you remember reading a story about a magic well and decided that your well would be magical, too. Youâve never wanted to abuse its powers, so youâve used your wishes conscientiously: things like getting a certain present at Christmas (when you were nine and the most important thing ever was getting the Monster High doll you wanted) or not stuttering during your presentation in class (when you really didnât want to embarrass yourself in front of Park Sunghoon and his cool friends). Every wish youâve made has come true. Whenever a faint voice of reason tells you that itâs because you always ask for very realistic things, you squash it and continue to believe in the well.
Because today, youâre not asking for something realistic.Â
Today, youâre asking the well to show you the way to love.
Youâve grown up watching The Notebook and Pride & Prejudice. Your parents are high school sweethearts who are still, twenty-five years later, happily married. You devour romance novels and binge-watch Asian dramas, the more unrealistic and romantic, the better. You are convinced that soulmates exist, that love always finds a way, that it is there for anyone to see. That it can take form in a childhood friend, an archnemesis, a total stranger. Â
But for some reason, it hasnât shown itself to you yet, no matter how valiantly youâve looked.Â
Youâre absolutely sick and tired of it. It is Jake kissing another girl, itâs Sunghoon leading you on for months and then rejecting you in front of everyone, itâs your ex-boyfriend-who-shall-not-be-named, your first love and first heartbreak, dumping you after a year and getting with the girl he had told you not to worry about a week later. At a party a few months later, heâd said, word for word, âAt least I didnât cheat on you.â
Coin lodged between your hands, you interlace your fingers and press your palms closely together, eyes screwed shut in desperation. âHey,â you start simply, because you and the well are good friends. âItâs been a while since Iâve asked for anything, so I hope you can indulge me⊠This is gonna sound so clichĂ©, but Iâm really tired of getting fucked over by boys â excuse my French â and I just wanna meet the person whoâs right for me, you know? Momâs always reminding me that Iâm only eighteen, and that Iâve got plenty of time to meet someone, but I just feel like if I donât find someone now, I never will. And if I get fucked over again â sorry â Iâll just lose hope and write off men for the rest of my life. So help a girl out, will you? Iâll leave it to you how you wanna go about it, but⊠just show me that thereâs someone out there. Please.â
When you open your eyes, you need a few seconds to adjust to the darkness. You toss the coin in the well. It doesnât make a sound as it hits the bottom, as if it has been absorbed within the old brick walls. You know better than to question itâthe well works in mysterious ways.
Youâre quiet that entire evening, making up an excuse of a tiring day at school when your parents ask. Really, youâre just thinking about your wish, whether itâll work, what might happen. You half-ass your homeworkâJay was right, the German exercises throw you into a bout of despair, so you quickly close your textbook and bury yourself in your sheets, falling asleep hours earlier than you usually would.
--
For some reason, the first thing you notice when you wake up is that itâs still dark outside. It must be the middle of the night, you think. It takes you a few seconds to realize that youâre in a completely strange room.
Instead of your floral-patterned sheets, you find yourself covered by delicate silk sheets that your parents would never agree to buy you, no matter how adamantly you argued for the benefits of silk for your skin. If skincare experts online had convinced you of one thing, it was that silk would do wonders for your obstinate acne. You slide out of bed and find a pair of slippers on the floor, as if waiting for you. Even the pajamas youâre wearing are fancier, more grown up than the ones you have at home, a set composed of a pinstriped button-up and shorts. You look around, for some reason more surprised and curious than panicked. You couldâve been kidnapped, for all you know, but all you care about right now is this room. Rather than the pink and white walls that have surrounded you since childhood, covered with pictures of you and your friends, postcards of artwork bought at museums, and posters of your favorite movies, the walls here are beige and mostly bare, except for a painting of Japanese cherry blossoms above the bed and a family portrait on the opposite wall, above a wooden chest of drawers.Â
The family portrait. A woman, a man, and what you can only assume are their children. They look like twinsâtwo girls. Canât be older than three years old. Out of the four faces, you recognize two of them. You recognize them far too well. One of them is yours, of course. You look slightly older, by a decade, maybe? Youâre glad to know that you wonât fall off after twenty-five, like much of social media has led you to believe.Â
The other face you recognize immediately, too, but it takes you a few seconds to truly believe it.
It belongs to none other than Park Jongseong.
A dry chuckle falls from your throat, as if someone has just made a very insulting joke at your expense and you have to pretend you find it funny. The well has a very odd sense of humor, you think. Itâs probably just a prank, a magic-induced nightmare before the real thing. Except this already feels real, disorientingly so. The fabric on your skin, the picture, the room. It all feels too real, more tangible than any dream youâve ever had.
You take a step closer towards the picture, as if looking at it harder will make Jongseongâs face fade into that of another man, the real man that will become your husband and father of your children. But alas, his features remain the same, frozen in time by the photographerâs camera. He, too, looks olderâand not only does he not fall off after twenty-five, he becomes all the more handsome for it.
Is this how you find out that Jongseong was handsome all along? You stare at it until the familiar face becomes practically unrecognizable, like repeating a word so much it stops feeling like one. The straight nose, the almond-shaped eyes that seem to have softened overtime, whereas his jaw has remained as sharp as ever. Have his eyebrows always framed his face so perfectly? Has that dimple always been there?Â
You look around again, and the bright numbers on the bedside alarm clock catches your attention. They read 9:57 p.m., but itâs the date that makes your stomach sinkâtoday is still the 18th of November, but ten years later. You stare at the clock, at the unfamiliar number, a date so far into the future you canât wrap your head around it. You could barely envision life after high school.
Downstairs, the sudden clang of pots and the sound of a tap running manage to rip your gaze away from the alarm clock. An overwhelming curiosity tells you to follow the noise. This is all a dream, so there are no consequences if you explore a bit more, right?Â
Youâve never been in this house before, and you have no idea where your feet are taking you until you find yourself in the kitchen. Itâs the only lit room in the house, and youâre creepily standing in the dark under a wide archway that connects the kitchen to what looks like the dining room. A man has his back to you, washing dishes and putting them out to dry on a rack next to the sink. Heâs wearing a white cotton sweater, one that you feel you recognise without ever having seen before, and a brown apron is tied around his neck and waist.Â
The first thing you think to yourself is Oh, his haircut hasnât changed. In almost every class you share with him, Jongseong has made it a point to sit either next to you or right in front of you, so youâve spent a lot of time glaring at the back of his head. You wouldnât be surprised if he started developing two eye-shaped bald spots there. His hair is still short and spiky at the back and on the sides, longer on the top. When he lets it grow too long, it sometimes covers his eyes, and he obnoxiously keeps having to push it back like a heartthrob in an 80s movie.Â
Something like a memory flashes through your mind, blurry like those images you arenât sure came from a dream or from real life. Your surroundings are unclear, but Jayâs face is nestled against your neck, your hand in his hair. You can feel the softness of the close shave against your palm as clearly as if you were touching it right now. You ask him why heâs always kept it that way, and he replies that itâs simple to maintain. Then in classic Jay fashion, he adds, âAnd it makes me look awesome.â
Another memory, a clearer one, this timeâthis definitely happened. Itâs halfway through sophomore year, a random Tuesday, and Jay walks in, holding his head high and looking smugly around himself. The bastard got a new haircut. Long gone, his messy, unorganized flop of black hair that looked like it didnât know what it was doing; hello, sleek undercut. It accentuates all of his best features, which is terrible news for you. You had never even thought of Jongseong as someone having âbestâ features, but now theyâre being thrown in your face. His nose. His jawline. His smile.
It ruins your day, and a few after that. You canât quite put it into words when your friends ask whatâs wrong at lunchâor rather, you donât wanna face the humiliation of uttering something along the lines of âPark Jongseong looks good with his new haircut, and itâs bothering me.â
Here, itâs a familiar sight in an unfamiliar environment, the back of his head. Without really thinking, you take a step forward. Jongseong starts at the sound of your slippers against the marble floor tiles, but his face relaxes into a smile when he sees you.
âOh, itâs just you, honey. I thought you were sleeping.â
Just you. As if the two of you being in the same kitchen is normal. You guess it must be, to this version of Jongseong. To him, youâre not the annoying girl he strives to best in every classâyouâre honey.Â
âI was,â you say, walking around the kitchen island to join him by the sink. Something in you needs to look at him, really look at him, maybe pinch yourself or pinch him to be sure youâre not going crazy. Maybe you caught wafts of some ancient algae that lives in the well and made you hallucinate?
âI left a plate out for you in case you woke up. Made your favorite. The girls werenât so happy, seeing as itâs the third time this month,â he says with the special kind of smile reserved for parents talking about their children. The girls. A mention so casual, so obvious, your heart hurts. âBut I think I got it really right this time,â he continues. âHonestly, it might even be better than the original.â
He goes back to washing the dishes and you watch the sponge in his hands as it scrubs away tomato sauce, the soap as it runs from the plates into the sink. A knot forms in your stomach, something like a deep sadness that overwhelms you all of a sudden, and tears form in your eyes, threatening to fall any second.
When you havenât budged in almost a minute, Jongseong starts to say, in an intimate, almost worried voice, âArenât you going to eat, honey?â but when he sees your wet eyes, the tremble in your lower lip, he shuts the water immediately and dries his hands. With his thumbs, he wipes away the tears that have started falling from your eyes. âWhatâs wrong?â he whispers.
You canât reconcile the man in front of you with the image you have of the boy that torments you in every class you share. You canât reconcile the genuine concern in his voice with the snarky tone youâre met with every day. And yet, they respond to the same name, their features are identical, if not for the years that separate them, the stress of adulthood on one and the carefreeness of youth on the other.Â
Your body reacts automatically to the soft touchânever in a million years would you let the Jongseong you know come near you like this, but here, nothing feels more natural than his hands on your face, your shoulders, your hair, as though theyâre just as much his as they are yours. You realize the emotion in your stomach is not sadnessâtears fall, but youâre not sad. Youâve never felt as home as you do now, and if one thing romantic novels have taught you, is that this must be love.
You look up at the man in front of you, eyebrows furrowed as you search his face for confirmation or some sort of an answer. Thereâs a tremble in your voice when you speak next. âI just⊠I think I love you, Jongseong.â
He chuckles. âWell, we established that a while ago, didnât we? What with getting married and having kids. But Iâm glad you still feel that way.â
The mention of marriage and children doesnât faze you nearly as much as it should. Youâve only got one thing on your mind. âDo you love me too?â
You expect him to laughânot out of cruelty, but because the answer is so obvious, it almost doesnât deserve to be answered seriously. Like when your brother asks if he can have one more of your cookies and you tell him youâll cut his hand off. Sometimes you think itâs easier to be sarcastic than be unabashedly nice to someone. Especially with Jongseong, whom you donât expect kindness or patience from, you wait for him to stay something like, âNo, thatâs why Iâve stayed with you these eight years.âÂ
So when instead, he says, âMore than anything on this Earth,â voice low and vulnerable, tears flow even harder.Â
âSorry, itâs probably just my period,â you say through sobs, although you have no idea where in her menstrual cycle this version of you is.
Jongseong chuckles again, pressing a kiss to your forehead. âYou do get emotional around this time.â And you cry more, because you canât believe someone other than your mother knows you so well that they know what your period symptoms are.
Rubbing soothing circles against your back and whispering soft words in your ear, he holds you for as long as you need to calm down. When you finally do, he tells you to go sit on the couch, that heâll finish up the dishes then heat and bring your food for you. You think youâve got your emotions under control, but the moment you bite the pasta, cooked to perfection with the most succulent tomato sauce youâve ever had, sweet with a little kick of spice and a generous amount of parmesan cheese, tears start to fall again as if you had an endless stock of water behind your eyes.
âThis is so good,â you mumble.
Jongseong smiles, his gaze full of affection miraculously directed at you as he tucks away strands of your hair so they donât get in your eyes or in your food. âIâm glad, baby.â
You react to the nickname viscerally, words tumbling out of your mouth before you can even understand them. âYou havenât called me that in ages.â You widen your eyes at yourself, wondering how this was something you even knew. But when you look at Jongseong, all he does is smile more.
âYouâre right, I havenât. I guess I was reminded of college. You cried all the time back then. As much as it pained me, I canât say I wasnât happy to be the one you always came to for comfort.â
You havenât been through college yet, so you should be unable to tell whether this truly happened or notâand yet, the memories of the body youâre in all confirm what Jongseong just said. But it feels impossibleâgoing to university with him, letting yourself be vulnerable enough with him to not only cry in front of him but let him comfort you. Whatever could have happened in the years between the present you know and your time at university for things to change so drastically?
But before you can make sense of any of it, Jongseong speaks again. âWhy? Do you like it when I call you baby?â
Your stomach flips. Heat rises to your face at his words, the tone with which he said them, the things he was alluding toâyou know that having children means youâd popped your cherry at some point, that youâd had sex with Jongseong specifically, but to be confronted with the fact was something else.Â
âMaybe,â you mumble, and proceed to stuff your mouth with pasta so that you canât incriminate yourself further.
He puts on a recent movie, something you should arguably be paying attention to, since youâre literally getting a glimpse into the future of cinemaâyou could steal the idea, go back to your present and sell it for an outrageous price.
But Jongseongâs presence next to you makes it impossible to concentrate on anything but him. The warmth emanating from him, the scent of his perfume envelop you, give you a sense of just how real this all isâdespite how comfortable being with him like this feels, youâre still not convinced youâre not just in an unsettlingly vivid dream. You take one of his hands in yours, examining each finger, turning his hand over, tracing the lines of his palm, smoothing your thumb over his nailsâitâs an undeniably human hand. Warm against yours, slightly rough. Heâs started using hand cream, you think, all these winters when his dry hands would crack because of the cold coming up to your mind, teenage Jongseongâs hard refusal to wear any sort of cream to protect himself. Memories bob up to the surface: fixing his cracked hands up with a plaster, your tear falling on his hand, the both of you in your school uniforms in what looks like the school infirmary; awkwardly gifting him some hand cream the Christmas of that year, not looking at him as you hand him the small package. Saying, âItâs a waste of plasters for something that could be fixed so easily.â Him treating you to warm, spicy tteokbokki because he felt bad for not having gotten you anything, even though this was the first time either of you had ever given the other one a present.
As your fingers trail up from his hand to his forearm, his shoulder, his jawline, more memories flood your mind. Clumsy first kisses; squabbles of the kind you were already used to; lazy mornings in bed; hours spent in your kitchen or his, before you shared one, cooking dinner together; the way you felt when he proposed, a feeling so intense remembering it is almost unbearable now. Your eyes and fingers examine his face in detailâeven though youâve seen him almost every day since the start of high school, this feels like the first time you really perceive him. The delicate bow of his lips, the strong nose, the softness in his eyes when he looks at you. Your heart beats uncontrollably as you hold each otherâs gazes, but you feel inexplicably relaxed at the same time, two nearly opposing realities fighting each other inside of youâone in which you and Jongseong regarding each other with such affection is unthinkable, the other in which it is daily routine.
âMovie not to your taste?â he asks, voice gentle, breaking you out of your stupor.
âHm?â
He nods towards the TV screen. âI see youâre not paying much attention.â
âNo. I have⊠things on my mind.â
He raises an eyebrow, a smirk slowly growing on his lips. âYeah?â You think your heart might actually flatline when he brings you in closer to his chest, and, face buried in your hair, says, âYou know, Iâve been thinking that the twins might want a younger sibling to play with soon enoughâŠâ
Youâre not sure whether he actually wants a third child or if this is weird dirty talk that apparently turns parents onâall you know is that this is something future you will deal with, not high school senior you.Â
You whip up your head at him, eyes wide in panic that he mirrors immediately. âOrâor not. Later. Later?â You nod fervently, and the worry dissipates from his handsome features. âOkay, later,â he whispers, kissing the top of your head before returning his attention to the movie.Â
A couple hours later, youâre laying in bed in the dark togetherâyou can tell Jongseong is falling asleep by the regularity of his breathing and his stillness, but youâre wide awake. You donât know how youâve managed to spend all this time with him, acting like the wife he knows and loves, without imploding. But suddenly, the idea of waking up in your childhood bed, surrounded by your pink-and-white walls, going downstairs to be greeted by your brother and parents, sends a wave of panic through you. You havenât felt this comfortable in a long timeâJongseongâs arm draped over your waist, the fact that you could reach over and feel his skin against your palm if you wanted. You donât want to go back to a time where you hate him. In fact, you donât know if you could hate him after this.
âJongseong?â you say softly, the syllables unfamiliar on your tongue, even though the name rings brusquely through your head for the best part of every day.
It takes a few seconds, but he reacts eventually. âHm? Did you just call me Jongseong?â he murmurs sleepily, as if youâd just called him Robert or Christopher and not the name his own parents gave him.
âYeah.â
He chuckles. âNow thatâs something you havenât called me in ages. Makes me feel like youâre mad at me,â he says, turning over and burying his face in the crook of your neck. His hair tickles your skin, and one of your hands comes up reflexively to feel the softness of his close shave.
â...Jong?â you try.
âThatâs a step up, but not quite what I want,â he mumbles.
Youâre silent for a few moments. âHoney,â you say tentatively, voice a mere whisper.
âThatâs better.â You can hear the smile in his voice.
âWill you be here in the morning?â
âMh-hm. Itâs Saturday tomorrow.â
âNo,â you say, feeling out of breath. âI mean, will you be here?â
Youâre aware youâre not making much senseâand yet, Jongseong needs no further explanation. âOf course, baby,â he starts, voice soothing. âIâll be here tomorrow, and the day after that, and every day afterwards. âTil death do us part, remember?â
You let out a shaky breath. âOkay.â
âI love you, Y/N.â
âI love you, too,â you find yourself saying, and, more importantly, meaning. Itâs the last thing either of you says before falling asleep.
--
Tears are streaming down your face when you wake up the next day. When you open your eyes, pink and white obnoxiously stare back at you. The clock reads 7:12, just three minutes before your alarm goes off, and unfortunately for high school you, the night hasnât given in to Saturday morningâitâs Tuesday, and you have to go to school and act as if you hadnât just had the weirdest, most realistic dream of your life. You donât even get a weekend to shake this weird feeling in your stomach off, youâre going to have to face Park Jongseong full force. At least, this will become your friendsâ favorite bit for the foreseeable future.
Theyâre already sitting in the classroom when you get there, animatedly chatting to each other. You plop down in your seat in front of them, and when they see the sullen look on your face, ask you whatâs wrong.
âDid you wake up during the night to play Hay Day again?â Kazuha asks, eyebrows knotted with genuine worry.
âIâm not that person anymore,â you reply. âNo, I just had a really weird dream. More like a nightmare, really. It feels like I didnât get any sleep.â
âWhat was it about?â Sunoo asks.
Your eyes dart back-and-forth between the two of them as you brace yourself for their reactions. Not wanting anyone else to overhear, you lean in conspiratorially. They mirror you. âI was married to Park Jongseong,â you whisper. As expected, they burst into laughter immediately, and you lean back in your seat, crossing your arms in annoyance. âItâs not funny.â
âItâs very funny,â Kazuha retorts. âItâs ironic, even, considering how much you hate the guy.â
âExactly!â
âBut I guess even you know how ridiculous it is that you hate him, if your brain is able to imagine yourself being married to him,â Sunoo adds, shrugging. âItâs a good reminder that youâre literally the only person in this school with a vendetta against him.â
Kazuha nods energetically. âHe picked up a pen for me, once. Heâs a nice guy.â
You look around the room in panic. âKeep it down, will you?â you hush, despite the fact that no one is paying any attention to the three of you. You sigh, resolving yourself to telling them the entire truth. âBut guys, Iâm scared. I think this might be a sign.â
Their eyebrows perk up. âA sign that your hatred of him has actually been disguising a crush this entire time?â Sunoo asks, feigning innocence.
âNoâwhat? Where did you get that idea?â
âNowhere. Go on.â
âWhatever. Come here,â you say, gesturing for them to huddle again. âItâs the well.â
âOh my God, Y/N, youâve actually lost it,â Kazuha says, fascinated by your stupidity.
âIâm not going to tolerate any well slander, this is serious. I just wanted it to reassure me that there was someone out there for me. And then I had that stupid dream.â
Kazuha and Sunoo exchange a look like theyâre parents trying to announce to their daughter that sheâs adopted. âY/NâŠâ Sunoo starts.
âThis is crazy. Like, love philters and writing Park Sunghoonâs name a hundred times are one thing, this isâŠâ
âCrazy,â Sunoo said, nodding along. âThis is crazy. Thereâs no other word for it. Your eighteen years of boyfriendlessness have finally caught up to you.â
âYou guys donât get it. What about that time I asked it to give me a good grade on our Literature exam and I literally came first out of our class? Or when I told it I missed Jung Hae-in and his military discharge announcement came the next day?â you say, aware that the look in your eyes is only confirming their suspicionsâbut you need someone to believe you, or at the very least understand you.
âOne, youâre a good student. Two, that was pure coincidence,â Sunoo explains.
âBut girl, if you want to marry Jay, thatâs fine. Youâve got our blessing,â Kazuha says, shrugging.
âYeah. He picked up her pen, once,â Sunoo adds.
âAnd you know, you guys clearly have some sort of chemistry.â
You scoff. âIf you think that him refuting my every word and finding every opportunity to make fun of me, then yeah, I guess you could say we have chemistry.â
âYou guys have banter,â Kazuha says as if itâs obvious.
âOh, please. Banter is cute. I want to kill him every time he opens his mouth.â
Your friends both roll their eyes. âWhile I understand that most men are better off staying quietâno offense, Sunooââ
âNone taken.â
âYou have to admit Jay is not nearly as insufferable as you make him out to be,â Kazuha says.
âAre you kidding me? Heâs always acting like a child. Rubbing it in my face when he gets a better grade, trying to start arguments for no reason, sucking up to teachers, stealing my erasers, for Godâs sake, youâd think heâs twelve. I know that Iâm not on the majority's side, but I seriously cannot understand how other people tolerate him at all.â
Sunoo sighs. âBecause heâs nice to everyone. He never hesitates to help people, heâs even funny, sometimes, andâwell, look at him.â He nods his head towards the door, and when you turn around, Jongseong is indeed walking in the classroom. âHeâs not a bad-looking boy.â
âGosh, Sunoo, maybe you should marry him,â Kazuha says, but since you laid your eyes on Jongseong, youâve stopped listening.
You feel weird. You look at him, and you feel weird. Itâs the same feeling you had during your sleep last night, a feeling that paralyzes you from head to toe, that starts in your stomach and spreads to your entire body, weighs you down in your chair.Â
âHey, guys,â he greets simply, and his voice wraps itself around your heart and squeezes. You canât do anything but watch him as he takes his seat next to you, plopping his bag on the table and taking his notebook out. He looks at you, watches you watching him, then swivels around in his chair.
âWhatâs wrong with her?â he asks your friends.
âShe had a dream that she mââ
âDo not finish that sentence, Zuha, if you want to live to see another day.â
âYes, maâam,â she replies, a satisfied little smile on her lips.
Despite yourself, youâre still staring at Jongseong, trying to figure out what the hell these emotions are that are raging up a storm inside of you. Instead of ignoring you, he turns to face you, resting his elbow on the table and his chin in his palm as he stares back at you, smirking. âWhatâs up, Y/N? Has it finally dawned on you how devastatingly handsome I am?â he asks, and you frown, because heâs not so far off from the truth.
âPlease, kids, itâs 9 a.m., donât flirt right in front of us,â Sunoo says, despair in his voice.
âSheâs the one who started it,â Jongseong replies, still looking at you, his smirk growing.
For some reason, this startles you out of your trance, and you look away from him like youâve been burned, preoccupying yourself instead with your notes for this class. âIn your dreams, Jongseong,â you mumble.
âMore like in yours,â Kazuha says, her and Sunoo giggling.
âZuha!â you exclaim. Jongseong looks at you with raised eyebrows, and with his infuriating capacity to put two and two together, youâre scared heâs figured out what she meant, but youâre literally saved by your teacher who walks in at that moment and starts the class.Â
The second the bell rings to signify the end of the class, you hurriedly pack your things and mutter an excuse about needing the bathroom, trying to get as far away as possible from the boy whose all-too familiar scent had messed with your thoughts all class, whose every brush of his arm against yours had made your heart race uncontrollably.
--
It hadnât just been a dream. It couldnât have been.
Just like there was no doubt the 28-year-old Jongseong from last night had once been the annoying boy you knew, the 18-year-old Jongseong was sure to one day become the husband of your dreams. A devoted partner and father, his presence comforting, his good looks indeed devastating, unwavering.
There was no mistake to be made. The well had worked its magic.
Whether you liked it or not, you would end up marrying Park Jongseong. You, of all people; him, of all people.
Was there already something of your future husband in the boy that snickered when you mixed up your genders in German class, or would he one day spring out of nowhere? Apparently, youâd be around to find out.
But for now, how to act around him? It felt unfair that you were privy to this knowledge of your shared future while he was ignorant of it. Blissfully, perhaps. You couldnât imagine that he would rejoice much at this news.
Your mind is somewhere else the entire day. At lunch, your other friends try to get the thing thatâs obviously bothering you out of you, but Kazuha and Sunoo are there to tell them not to bother. Youâd needed to tell someone about it, but you donât want the entire school to know about your marital premonitions. The two knuckleheads you call your best friends are already doing a good enough job teasing you about itââThereâs your husband, Y/N,â when Jongseong walks past; âSo have you thought of baby names? Kayleigh and Mackayleigh, perhaps?â unsolicited, during Physics. You turn around to check on the culprit â because yes, Jongseong is the culprit here, you, a mere a victim â and when he notices you staring, nods at you as if to say, Whatâs your problem?, trying to look threatening in his white lab coat thatâs three sizes too big and protective goggles.
It doesnât help that Jongseong has a way of hovering around you. Even in classes in which your teachers assigned the seats for you, heâs never far from your seat. The two of you sit next to each other in German, your last class every Monday, Tuesday and Thursday. But today, the seat next to you is emptyâwhat wouldâve been a cause for celebration just yesterday is now a source of worry. Youâd seen him just two hours ago in your previous class together, so where the hell was he now? Heâs lucky that your teacher is an old German lady who always spends the first ten minutes of the lesson rambling about something in dialectal German no one understands but nods along to anyway. When he walks into the room, five minutes late, she just says, âHallo, Jay,â and continues with her story. Itâs about her first school trip to Berlin when she was fifteen and the country was still divided. You think.
He winks at you when he takes his seat and you roll your eyes. You pretend to listen to your teacher for thirty seconds, then hit him gently with your elbow. âWhere were you?â you ask without looking at him.
He doesnât answer immediately, probably surprised you initiated a non-hostile conversation with him for once. âI was just hanging out with my friends, something you clearly wouldnât understand.â
And your friends wondered why you hated him?
âStill having imaginary friends at eighteen is really concerning, Jongseong. You should see someone about it.â
When you glance at him, heâs already looking right at you, smiling. Youâve never felt so conscious of your side profile.Â
âWhy? Were you worried?â he whispers, kicking your foot with his.
You look at him, horrifiedâwhere the hell had he gotten that idea? How was he so spot-on? You scoff, trying to diffuse the tension inside yourself. âNo.â
He kicks your foot again. âI was five minutes late and you started to worry?â
âNo. Stop.â
âI didnât know you cared about me so much, Y/N.â
This time, you give him a harsh look, one that lets him know you really mean your wordsââStop it.â Finally, he relents, getting the assigned homework out now that the teacher has actually started the lesson. Your face softensâhe looks hurt. Guilt tugs at your heartstrings.
Despite what you might say, you like the way things are with Jongseong. If some people always need to be crushing on someone, you always need to have someone you perceive as an enemyâit was Na Jaemin in elementary school, because heâd once made fun of your incapability to climb the monkey bars; Shin Ryujin, in middle school, for kissing your crush during a game of spin-the-bottle at your own birthday party; Park Jongseong, since freshman year, for simply existing. Your reasons for disliking him are trivial, youâll admit. You werenât sure you could even place a finger on what had first triggered your disdain towards himâone too many awful jokes, one too many times raising his hand in class and rattling off a perfect answer, then looking around himself proudly, one too many roars of laughter heard throughout the entire cafeteria. The fact that no one else seemed to be bothered by him only added to your aggravation. He just got on your nerves, and it seemed that you openly showing your dislike of him â him, who was so used to being loved by everyone around him, pampered by his family, praised by his teachers, popular among his peers â was enough to make him dislike you, too. So, after a few failed attempts at trying to be your friend, because Jongseong was unable to not be friends with everyone he met, he didnât simply give up.Â
If he couldnât be your friend, then fine, heâd be your enemy.
At least, thatâs how it appears to you, still now. Itâs never gone dangerously far, but if thereâs an opening to tease you or get on your nerves, heâll do it. Not passing you the ball during soccer, or conversely, only aiming for you during dodgeball, not sharing his textbook with you when you forgot it unless you beg, loudly clearing his throat when you speak in class. And, lately, pouring salt on your wounds in the form of reminding you how impossible you and Jake Sim are. His motto must be if thereâs a will, thereâs a way. And when it comes to making your life hell, his will is infinite.
Everything is upside-down now. The question of how your relationship can possibly go from this to that obsesses you. It feels like youâre more capable of sharing a funeral, dying at each othersâ hands, than a wedding.Â
âJong, your textbook.â
He squints at you. âFunny how Iâm Jongseong when you hate me, Jong when you need a textbook,â he says, sliding his book closer to himself.
âItâs not my fault your name is a mouthful,â you retort, trying to pull it back to the middle of the table, but heâs quicker than you.
âThen maybe you should call me Jay, like everyone else on Earth.â
âWhereâs the fun in that? Now give it here. Please?â you ask, mustering your best smile. Any other teacher wouldâve scolded the two of you by now, but Ms. Schumacher is peacefully going on about the importance of word order and punctuation in the German sentence, oblivious to her two students bickering in the back row. Jongseong usually never sits at the back of the classroomâonly here.
He gives in, smiling back, but thereâs something behind it, something that tells you nothing good is brewing in his brain. âOnly because youâre so pretty.â
Normally, this kind of remark wouldâve warranted a slap on the arm or an array of insults, but if today is anything, it is not normal. You look at him like youâve been stung, visions of your not-dream coming to you in flashes like youâre the titular character on Thatâs So Ravenâthe affection in your husbandâs eyes, the kindness in his words, the sincerity in his smile. Again, youâre left to wonder if this man is already taking root inside of the boy next to you, if Jongseongâs future capacity to love you presently exists in his heart.
Does your future capacity to love him already exist in your heart?
You watch as his smirk softens into a grin, your flusteredness and lack of a response clearly amusing him, then as he circles the exercises Ms. Schumacher is assigning for the lesson. She seems to have forgotten there was homework dueâJongseong will be sure to remind her of it quickly.
He kicks your foot again, tells you to focus. His ears have turned red.
You wonder if those capacities havenât existed from the start.
--
As much as you love a good friends-to-lovers story, characters hiding their feelings out of fear of ruining the friendship have never failed to frustrate you â just tell her, you dummy, itâs obvious she likes you too â and yet, youâve never related more than now.
Whatever it is that you and Jongseong have, you donât want to lose it. It adds entertainment to your otherwise average life.Â
âGood thing she didnât pick on you while we went over the homework, âcause you clearly put zero effort in. And I wouldnât have helped you, even if youâd asked, by the way.â
You hum absent-mindedly as you put your notebook and pencil holder in your bag. Are you sure that these are even your feelings in the first place? Just because the well put a silly idea in your head doesnât mean you have to believe it like itâs scripture. If what you saw is real, then it will happen in its own time. Things donât have to start changing right this instant.
âGosh, Y/N, whatâs up with you today? Youâre so boring,â Jongseong continues, following you out of the classroom.Â
âJust tired,â you reply. Wouldnât it be unnatural if you were to radically alter the way you behave with Jongseong? Love should come about organically. Sure, his presence has always provoked some kind of reaction within you, but thatâs usually been annoyance. Whether heâs stealing the fifth eraser youâve bought that month or running on the soccer field, beads of sweat running down his temples, hair sticking out everywhere, victoriously smiling when his team scoresâyouâre annoyed. Whether heâs sticking up his hand higher than yours or going to the school dance with Ahn Yujinâyouâre annoyed. When you learned that sheâd been his neighbor since infancy and that she had a boyfriend, who went to another school and only trusted Jongseong to take her to the dance, you were still annoyedâthis time at yourself for feeling even the tiniest bit relieved that nothing was going on between them.
And this â his quick steps trying to keep up with yours, his dumb story about yogurt coming out of Heeseungâs nose today at lunch when they were laughing too hard â yes, youâre still annoyed. But you realize youâre not annoyed at him.
Youâre annoyed at how he makes you feel.
âY/N?â he says, but youâre too deep in your thoughts, only vaguely registering the sound until he repeats it, louder this time, and grabs your hand, making you abruptly stop walking. âAre you sure everythingâs okay?â he asks with genuine concern in his voice. âYouâre barely listening to me. I mean, itâs not like you usually really do, but youâd have told me to get lost, like, five minutes ago nowâŠâ
He chuckles self-deprecatingly, but despite his words, youâre focusing on something else yet again. His hand on yours, his loose hold on your fingers. Your brain is yelling at youâhold his hand, hug him. Itâs like there are still traces of the 28-year-old version of you you visited yesterday, urging you to behave like her and not 18-year-old you.Â
So, the well had let you know that you need not look much further to find what you wanted. Here it is, in the form of a boy you have convinced yourself you hated, and hated you, and yet, heâs holding your hand, asking you if youâre okay, worry knotting his eyebrows together.Â
Hold his hand. Hug him. Instead, you retract your hand, let it fall limply by your side. Jongseongâs eyebrows shoot up.
Heâs so close, the supposed love of your life. You donât know how to reach out to him.
For now, you smile. âGet lost, Jong.â
--
you guys how the hell do i act around jongseong now that i know our fates are romantically intertwined
kazuha i think not treating him like the number one public enemy would be a good start
you so what⊠be nice to him? how do i do that
sunoo oh my god y/n when she has to treat another person like a regular human being
you heâs not just another person!
sunoo okayyyyy i see you little miss repressed feelings
you i hate u
kazuha just donât roll your eyes at everything he says anymore and donât start arguments for no reason
you heâs the one who starts them⊠but okay iâll try
--
âLetâs pair up for the reading analysis today. You can stay with your deskmate or pick a partner, I donât mind as long as you get the work done. Iâm talking about you, Chaewon and Yuri. This is English class, not a gossip session.â
The second your English teacher has finished speaking, Jongseong swivels in his chair. âLetâs partner up, Y/N?â
âWhat about me?â Jake asks, eyes darting back-and-forth between the two of you.
âYou can partner up with Minju,â Jongseong replies, pointing to the girl heâs usually seated next to. âLook. You guys will be great together. Say hi, Minju.â Minju waves shyly at Jake, braces on display as she smiles ecstatically. Itâs not everyday that she gets to talk to one of the most popular guys in school.
Jake reluctantly switches seats with him, glancing back at you and Jongseong who just grins at him, fake friendliness plastered on his lips, until he turns around again. Your new partnerâs smile softens and reaches his eyes when he looks at you. âHi.â
You have to look awayâyou feel your face burn under his gaze. âHi, Jong.â
He tilts his head. âWhat? Do you hate me so much that you canât even look at me now?â he asks, and you canât tell whether heâs joking or genuine.
You frown. âI donât hate you.â
âOh? Thatâs a recent development.â
âI guess,â you mumble after a few seconds. Is it really? You suddenly canât remember if you ever really hated him, or if youâd exaggerated your own feelings.
His smile widens. âWell, good. I mean, you were going to have to realize at some point that I really am funny, smart, endearing, handsome-â
âBack to hating.â
âLetâs start the assignment.â
You agree on reading the passage first, but you realize halfway through that not a single word has been absorbed. âHey. Why did you switch seats with him?â you ask, whispering so as not to be overheard.
Jongseong shrugs. âI thought you wouldnât want to work with him, consideringâŠâ
âRight.â Youâre silent again, but only for a bit. âWhatâs it to you?â you mumble.Â
He scoffs. âSorry for trying to be considerate.â
âThatâs notââ
âLetâs just focus on this.â
His sudden coldness vexes you. You know you should let it go â donât start arguments for no reason, and all that â and you know itâs childish, but you canât help yourself. You have certain reflexes youâre not particularly proud of when it comes to one Park Jongseong. âLetâs just focus on this,â you repeat, mocking his grumbling tone of voice and shaking your head like a puppet.
He glares at you. âCan you not act like a toddler for once?â
âCan you not be a dick for once?â you bite back.
âY/N, Jongseong, Iâm sure youâre having a fascinating conversation on the use of chiaroscuro in the text?â your teacher asks, a look of warning on his face.
âYes, sir,â you reply, embarrassed.
âYes, so much chiaroscuro,â Jongseong mumbles, resting his cheek on his knuckles. When the teacher has turned away, he kicks your foot. âSee, youâre getting us in trouble.â
âDo you even know what chiaroscuro is?âÂ
He hesitates. âThatâs not the problem here. You are.â
âWell, maybe if you didnât-â
âY/N, Jay, final warning.â
âSorry,â you both say at the same time. With one last glare at each other, you finally get to work.
So your plan to start getting along with Jongseong isnât in full-force yet. On the drive back home that afternoon, you reassure yourself that these things take time. When the moment is right, the two of you will grow closer.
--
But increasingly, it feels as though the right moment will never come.
Two months have passed since your visit to the well, and things between you and Jongseong have not changed. Not really, at least.
You still bicker like cat and dog â it goes without saying that youâre the cute puppy and heâs the heartless cat â and he gets as much on your nerves as ever, especially now that you know that the potential to be nice to you, to love you, even, exists somewhere inside him. Somewhere deeply hidden perhaps, but somewhere nonetheless. Of course, after telling yourself that what must come will come of its own accord, you havenât done much to change the dynamic between the two of you. But if you used to see your retaliations against him as necessary to your survival, you now find some sort of enjoyment in themâsome might call it Stockholm Syndrome, you perceive it as a step in the right direction. Youâve followed one of Kazuhaâs pieces of advice: you donât roll your eyes at him anymore, simply because you donât feel the need to. You argue with him with a smile on your face, his attempts at insulting or annoying you have started to make you laugh.
He doesnât say anything but seems to gladly welcome this change. If you get a lower grade than him on a test, he doesnât try to stick the knife in further, but genuinely offers to go over it with you later. If you give in after two hours of tearing your hair out over a German exercise and text him for help, he doesnât make fun of you. If he says something particularly arrogant or makes a really bad joke, all you need to do is give him a look, and heâll mumble an apology.Â
Could it have been like this the entire time? you wonder, watching him across the schoolyard as he and Heeseung hunt for PokĂ©mon. Just a couple months ago, you wouldâve scrunched your nose at the sight, making fun of him for his childish interests. Now, you notice the way he laughs, audible all the way to where you sit with Kazuha and Sunoo, the way he jumps excitedly and points at things only he and his friend see, and all you feel is endearment.
âLook at you, look at that,â Sunoo says as he hits you on the forehead with his metal spoon, startling you. He tuts. âYouâve got love dripping from your eyes, sweetie.â
âSunoo, thatâs disgusting.â
âLove? I know.â
âNo, your spoon. Your salivaâs all over that,â you say, and all he does is eat another mouthful of his yogurt while staring wide-eyed right at you. When you look back at Jongseong, heâs high-fiving Heeseung. You wonder which creature heâs caught now. In the library yesterday, he spent thirty minutes showing you every single one he had captured so far instead of revising for the upcoming Physics test.
âYeah, we know youâd like someone elseâs saliva more,â Kazuha chimes in, and the two of them snort.
âItâs not like that,â you say, biting into an apple slice.
âOh yeah? Whatâs it like, then?â Kazuha asks.
âWeâre⊠becoming friends,â you say, but youâre not sure who youâre trying to convince more.
âY/N, Iâve had to watch the two of you giggling to yourselves in the library one too many times to believe youâre friends. I know your homeworkâs not that funny,â Sunoo argues.
âFriends can giggle with each other!â you exclaim, but your friends are inflexible.
âI would tell you to get yourself together if you giggled at me like that,â he says.
âI saw you twirl your hair the other day,â Kazuha adds.
âI neverâWhen?!â
She shrugs. âThe other day.â
You deflate, crushed under your friendsâ accusations. âI wouldnât twirl my hairâŠâ you mumble. You decide to busy yourself with your apple slices, not even bothering to find out what Kazuha and Sunoo start snickering and elbowing each other about.
âHey,â a familiar voice greets, making you look up. Jongseong smiles at you and steals an apple slice from your tupperware as he sits down next to you, Heeseung across from him.
âHi, Jong,â you say, sitting up straighter. You offer a piece of fruit to Heeseung but he declines, saying he doesnât like apples without peanut butter.
In front of you, your friends exchange a look, and youâre immediately terrified of what theyâll do next. Leaning in, they place their elbows on the table, and Kazuha starts them off. âJay, you and Y/N know each other pretty well, right?â
Jongseong glances at you, eyes wide. âUh, sure.â
âHave you ever noticed her, say, twirling her hair?â Sunoo asks, tilting his head innocently at the poor boy by your side.
Youâve never seen him look so confused. âUm, yeah, she does that when sheâs concentrating on something, sometimesâŠâ
They lean back. âHuh,â Kazuha says, studying Jongseongâs face.
âInteresting. Very interesting,â Sunoo says, slowly nodding.
You glare at your friends. âSee, thatâs different,â you tell them. âI was concentrating on something, not doing⊠whatever you guys had in mind.â
Jongseong looks at you. âWhat did they have in mind?â
You answer before either of them can dig your grave any deeper. âNothing. Itâs nothing. We were just having a stupid conversation.â You muster your most convincing smile, and the subject is finally dropped.
No one says anything for a few moments, until Heeseung decides to speak up: âYou shouldâve seen Jay earlier, Y/N. He caught this super rare version of Pikachu earlier, it was awesome.â
âDudeâŠâ Jongseong murmurs.
âWhat?â Heeseung asks, his enthusiasm quickly dissolving into confusion. Jongseong just shakes his head. Thankfully for all of you, the bell rings then, and you head to class. The three of them walk in front of you while you and Jongseong fall back a step.
âWhy were you guys sitting outside? Itâs freezing today,â he asks you. Walking side-by-side like this, you canât help but notice the inches he has over you, the broadness of his shoulders in comparison to yours.
âThey turned the heat way too high in the cafeteria, so we came outside for some fresh air,â you explain. Heâs right, the air is chilly todayâitâs a few days into December, and the temperatures have been accordingly low.
âArenât you cold?â
Your heart skips a beat. One of the side effects of not being at each otherâs throat anymore was that you got more and more often to be privy to this side of Jongseongâattentive, considerate, kind. What you once thought were his moral attempts at not being so mean to you all the time, you found out was actually his real nature. He wasnât a prick who was sometimes nice, he was a nice person who turned into a prick with you. Whether the fault lay on him or you was another debate.
âNo, Iâm alright,â you say, but your body decides to betray you and makes you sneeze three times in a row.
âBless you,â Jongseong says, laughing. âHere.â You try to stop him, pushing his hands away, but he takes his gloves off and forces them in your palms.
âIâm going to be inside for the next four hours, Jong, Iâll be fine. Keep them.â
âNo, itâs okay. Just so you can warm up quicker.â
You eventually give in, putting the gloves over your hands, laughing at the extra fabric that hangs off the tip of your fingers. But when you look at Jongseongâs now-bare hands, something catches your attention. Stopping in the hallway, you grab one of them, examining the cuts on his knuckles. âYou need to wear hand cream, Jong, your hands are too chapped.â
He lets you turn his hand over, smooth over his skin, do the same thing with his other hand. âMen donât wear hand cream,â he says, a grin on his lips.
You burst out laughing. âI think thatâs the stupidest thing Iâve ever heard you say.â
âSeriously, though, I donât like the way it feels. Too sticky.â
âYou just need to get a quick-absorption one.â Then, you make the terrible mistake of looking up from his hand and meeting his eyesâyou gasp silently, his gaze and soft smile transporting you right back to that night, the images of 28-year-old and 18-year-old Jongseong mixing into each other, becoming indistinct from each other. Your gaze drifts down to his lips â chapped, too, when theyâre usually plumper, rosier â and his hand, still in yours, balls into a fist. The second bell rings and you both take a step back, eyes meeting again for a brief moment before looking down at the floor. With uncharacteristically shy, embarrassed words of parting, you make your separate ways to your next classes.
âThat was beautiful, Y/N,â Sunoo says, waiting for you by the door, and you walk past him without so much as a glance.
âI donât wanna talk about it.â
--
sunoo jay and y/n almost kissed earlier
kazuha WHAAAAT
you KIM SUNOO.
kazuha WHEN?????
sunoo right before class after the lunch break y/n was sooo embarrassed afterwards lol
you we did NOT almost kiss youâre talking out of your ass
kazuha i canât believe i missed this fml
you YOU DIDNT MISS ANYTHING NOTHING HAPPENED
sunoo be serious u guys weâre standing inches apart
you were* and no we werenât
sunoo oh stfu it was autocorrect i saw it w my own eyes y/n⊠you WERE literally holding his hand and staring into those beautiful eyes of his
kazuha sunoo�
sunoo what canât a man acknowledge another manâs objective attractiveness if i was y/n i wouldâve folded the moment i saw him
you literally one of the first times he talked to me was to make fun of my handwriting
sunoo yeah heâs on his tsundere shit i fw it
you âŠ
sunoo anyways zuha you shouldve seen it when the bell rang they practically leaped away from each other and u didnt know what to do w yourselves afterwards likeeee it was so obvi what you both were thinking of
kazuha cuuuute
you i resent these accusations.
sunoo istg if u dont kiss him next time i will
kazuha ???
you SUNOO?
sunoo WHAT
--
Something happens a few days before the start of winter break.
Ms. Schumacher is absent, gone off to Germany to visit her family thereâshe has enough seniority in the school that they let her abandon her responsibilities as a teacher once in a while. A week is too short a period of time for them to bother finding a substitute. Itâs usually your last class of the day, but you have to wait around for your dad to be done working, so while most of your classmates have gone home early, you sit with about six other people in the unsupervised study room, absent-mindedly jotting down tid-bits of dialogue for your new story idea, too preoccupied with Jongseongâs absence to really pay attention to anything else. Itâs fifteen minutes after the hour, but heâs nowhere to be found, although you know for a fact that he takes those weird Molecular Gastronomy cooking classes your Chemistry teacher offers for extra credit every Thursday after school, so he should be here. And anyways, if heâd gone home, he wouldâve texted you something like, Have fun sitting around for an hour, Iâm gonna go do awesome stuff with Heeseung, even if awesome stuff meant playing Mario Kart or drinking Sprite and holding a two-person burping contest.
Youâre so engrossed in your own thoughts that you pay no mind to the sudden ding of a phone in the room, followed by some gasps and heated whispers. The exchanged words go through one ear and out the otherâThere was a fight? In the locker rooms? It must be bad if they were sent to the nurse before the principal⊠Huh? Over who? So he took both of them on? Damn, I didnât know Jay got like that. He seems so well-behaved.
Your head whips up at the mention of your friendâs name. âJay? Did something happen to him?â you ask out loud, the whispers dying down immediately as everybody stares at you.Â
Gaeul, who was in your class last year, is the only one who answers you. Holding up and waving her phone, she says, âThey say he got into a fight.â
Jongseong? A fight? It sounds like a practical joke. He admitted to you he once started crying watching Heeseung playing Call of Duty, it was so violent. You shake your head. âHe-he did? With who?â
Gaeul and the girl next to her exchange a concerned, almost guilty look. âJake and Sunghoon.â The crease between your eyebrows deepened. You donât need to ask anything else before she adds, âTheyâre at the nurseâs station. It sounds pretty badâŠâ
Thatâs enough for you to leap out of your chair and run to the nurseâs station. It seems the news has spread impossibly quickly among your year groupâeven Kazuha and Sunoo are already blowing your phone, asking you if youâve heard, if you know how Jay is. You ignore them, reminding yourself to text them back later, until one message from Sunoo in particular catches your attention: It apparently started because Sunghoon said something about you, Y/N. Theyâre saying Jay got angry.
The nurse is busy on the phone when you get there, her back to the entrance, so youâre able to slip in unnoticed. You head to the adjoining room where the beds are, all three of them takenâyou walk by Sunghoon first, his arms crossed over his chest and pointedly not looking at you, then by Jake, who calls out your name. You glare at him and pull on the white plastic curtain that separates his bed from Jongseongâs. Theyâre already going to hear you, you donât need them seeing you on top of that.Â
Jongseong sits up with a grunt when you appear at the end of his bed. The sight of him makes your stomach flip, and not in a good way, for onceâhis left eye is swollen and circled by a deep purple bruise, shiny with ointment, thereâs a cut on his cheek, his lower lip is busted, his right hand is wrapped in bandages. âOh my God,â you whisper as you help him up, voice breaking. He stares at his hands, jaw locking when you gently place one palm on his good hand, the other on the side of his face, moving it this way and that so you can take a better look at his injuries. He winces, and you let go, resting your hand on his shoulder instead. âWhat the hell got into you?â you whisper vehemently, unable to decide if youâre worried or angry or both as tears form in your eyes.
He tries to shrug, but even that seems to hurt. âDonât shrug, Jongseong, tell me what happened.â
âIâm Jongseong again now?â he says, attempting a smile, but only one corner of his lips rises.
You sigh. Even in this state, he has to be a smart-ass. âYouâre Jong when I need a textbook, Jongseong when you get into stupid fights,â you reply, and he smiles wider but immediately winces, hand coming up to the cut on his lip. You notice that his hand is still riddled with cracks, and whether theyâre due to their dryness or to this fight doesnât matterââWait here,â you say, and go rummage through some drawers for plasters. âShe forgot some spots.â You feel Jongseongâs eyes on your face as you patch him up to the best of your abilities.
âI donât want to tell you what happened. Iâll do the job of hating these idiots for the both of us, so donât concern yourself with them,â he says, apparently not caring that the idiots in question can hear his every word.
He keeps his promiseâyou never hear another word from him about the cause of the fight.Â
Later, you find out through other means, namely Sunooâs questionably remarkable ability to unearth any and all gossip, that in the locker rooms after Phys Ed, someone had started Jake on the topic of Yunjin, who had been recently revealed as his girlfriend. Theyâd apparently kept it secret because it was just fooling around at first, and only later had gotten serious enough for them to parade around the school as the couple.Â
It had been an unremarkable conversation until Jake said, âYou guys know Y/N from our class? She saw us in the staff parking lot once, and I was sure weâd be busted then. But she didnât tell anyone.â And just like that, the conversation turned to you, someone who was usually never a topic among these boys, jocks, soccer players, âthe kind of people who peak in high school and still have a superiority complex at forty,â as Sunoo describes them.Â
He has a harder time explaining what happened next, canât quite look you in the eye as he recounts what was said. âSo, this is what they say, apparently someone said that you used to be obsessed with Sunghoon, then with Jake, and Sunghoon said you⊠Well, he said you were pathetic, that asshole, and that you had been so easy to lead on, then Jake joined in, saying the same things, basically, how funny it was seeing you so obviously in love with him when he would never give you a chanceâŠâ He looks at you worriedly, but you tell him to go on. âAnd so thatâs when Jay got up and just straight-up punched Jake in the face. And while Jake was trying to figure out what happened, Jay punched Sunghoon, and then they both got on him, pushing him, but when he wouldnât stop throwing punches, they started fighting, too. I think they all got some good ones in before the other boys were able to break them apart and the P.E. teacher arrivedâŠâ
But that would be later. Now, sitting with Jongseong in the nurseâs station, tears falling onto the plasters you place on his hand, nothing matters but him. You donât need the detailsâheâs hurt, he got hurt over you, you feel as though every cut on his body may well have been done by your own hand. Youâve never felt so guilty for something you didnât do. Your voice trembles when you speak; youâre unable to look at him, at his busted eye. âI just donât want you to get hurt for me.â
Without missing a beat, he says, âWhat else would I get hurt for?â
You can only meet his eyes for a split second. Even like this, he manages to look at you with the same softness that has haunted you since the night you met 28-year-old Jongseong, that has rendered all thoughts of anything other than him meaningless since the day your gaze drifted down to his lips just weeks ago. âJongâŠâ is all you can mutter as you look down at your hands holding each othersâ, your lips trembling.
He raises his bandaged hand, still not used to his dominant side being ineffective for now, then lowers it when he realizes. Clumsily, he pats your hair with his left hand. âDonât cry, pleaseâŠâ
Jakeâs head pops out from behind the curtain. âY/N, Iâm really sorryââ
âNot right now, man,â Jay quickly interrupts. Jake pathetically disappears behind the curtain again.
âJust promise me you wonât do this again.â
âY/NâŠâ
âPromise me,â you say, more demanding this time, sticking out your pinky finger. Jay, hesitant, looks between your outstretched finger and your face a few times, but eventually gives in.
The nurse, upon coming to check on the boys, catches you with Jongseong and chases you out immediately. You sulk back to study hall, where everyoneâs head perks up the moment you walk in. âTheyâre okay,â you reassure vaguely, and unenthusiastically answer their many questions. Itâs only a few minutes until the bell rings, and youâre free to go then.
--
jong so⊠guess who got a five-day suspension
you you idiot what did your parents say?
jong theyâre not happy i have to do all the household chores for a month
you boo-hoo
jong not sure why i came here thinking iâd get some comfortâŠ
you ⊠are you feeling better?
jong a little bit the nurse gave us some really strong painkillers but iâm okay because thereâs a pretty girl thatâs going to drop off the homework for me after school every day :)
you oh did you ask chaewon to do that?
jong um no i was talking about you ..if thatâs okay
you haha i know i just wanted you to say it straight up
jong ykw maybe i should just ask chaewon
you iâll see you tomorrow jong!!
jong :) see you tomorrow prettyÂ
 --
The months that separate your return to school and graduation come and go in the blink of an eye. Jongseong canât come to school the last day before the holidays or the first four days after, and heâs grounded in-between. Things change bit by bit with every day you visit himâTo give him the homework, you tell his parents, although there isnât much to do when the semester isnât in full swing, and you couldâve easily sent him pictures. The first time, you spend more time scouring the pictures and trinkets in his room than actually talking to him, and awkwardly give him a half-hug when he tells you he wonât be able to hang out at all during the break before practically running out of his house, your heart beating a thousand miles a minute from the innocent contact. By the fourth time, you lie together on his bed and talk about your plans for college, your hands sitting centimeters apart on the navy sheets. You havenât dared touch his hand since that day in the nurseâs station.
Youâre window-shopping with Kazuha when you spot the hand cream you had seen yourself gifting Jongseong in your well-given vision. Buying it is one thing, actually giving it to him is another, an awkward, stuttery situation in which the wrapping done by the store employee suddenly seems over-the-top and out-of-place. But Jongseong seems to like itâitâs the last day of his suspension, his black eye is now a yellow-ish color, he can smile without risking splitting his lip in two. He applies it immediately, tells you heâll make sure to wear it every day until the end of winter. You find yourself wishing there was something you could give him for every season so he wouldnât go a day without thinking of you. When you leave, he bashfully thanks you for making sure he doesnât fall behind and says heâs excited to see you at school the next day. You hardly know what to do with yourself, so you squeak out a âme tooâ and slip out the door.
His first day back is a Friday. It starts with Mathematics, a class in which you sit by each other. You remember the first week of classes when Kazuha and Sunoo had ran to sit with each other, expressly because they knew that if he saw you were sitting alone, heâd take the seat next to you, just to better torment you all year. Youâd resented it then; it couldnât make you happier now. Your body is humming with nervous energy, your foot tapping relentlessly against the tiled floor. When he appears in the doorframe, you wave at him as if heâd forgotten his seat in three weeks of absence. His elbow brushes against yours as he sits down.
Between the two of you, friendship blossoms over these months. To the detriment of everyone around you, you continue to bicker as you always have, but itâs now clearly done out of habit, out of affection, even, than out of actual dislike of each other. He and Heeseung slowly integrate your small group of three, and before you know it, it feels as though there have always been five of you. Together, you welcome spring.
In January, to thank you for helping him to pick out his momâs birthday present, Jongseong treats you to some tteokbokki, which you said youâd been craving all week. He orders the spiciest one, then has to take a sip of water between every bite. You laugh at his teary eyes and red face while you devour the bright red rice cakes easily.Â
In February, he makes a show of giving you and Kazuha and Heeseung and Sunoo some homemade chocolates, saying itâs a friend thing. You find out that evening that the others each have five in their boxâthere are twenty in yours. Itâs one of the things that makes you second guess what sort of feelings he has for you. For years, youâve been convinced he harbored strong feelings of disdain for you; now, he seems to enjoy your friendship. Youâre scared to read too much into anything, because if Jongseong is well-liked throughout school, itâs for a reason: heâs nice. To everyone. Even to you, too, nowadays. But if nice is giving five chocolates, what is giving twenty?
A sudden realization hits you in MarchâJongseong appears at your door, drenched from the rain, a bag of your favorite snacks in hand. âYou werenât at school today. I had to find out you were sick from Kazuha,â he says as if she was a random classmate of yours and not your best friend, as if he should be the first to know about these kinds of things. Your mom rushes him in, finds him so charming in the five minutes they converse that she decides he should stay over for dinner, and as you watch him laughing with her, you think, I havenât thought of 28-year-old Jongseong in ages. Iâve only thought of you. And although you can trace the start of your feelings to that dream-like experience you had, you can now say with confidence that itâs not the only reason for them.
College application results come out in April, right on his birthday. The five of you celebrate together at an American-style diner, gorging yourselves on crispy bacon and chocolate chip pancakes. Kazuha is going back to Japan, almost a decade after moving to South KoreaââIâm gonna miss you guys, but I miss takoyaki and my grandma more right now.â Heeseung has been accepted into the Engineering department at the countryâs top university. You, Sunoo and Jongseong are all heading to the same place: you for Screenwriting, which youâve known since you were one of the winners of the scholarship contest last October, Sunoo for Communications, whatever that is, and Jongseong for European History and Literature with a minor in German, that freak. Itâs a good university, and itâs not far from home. The way Jongseong tells you about his acceptance sticks with you: he doesnât say, They accepted me, too, or, Iâm going to the same university as you. He says, Weâll be together.
May is filled with afternoons at the park when you should all be studying for exams. Your mom keeps asking when sheâs going to see âthat wonderful boyâ again. Your friendship with Jongseong has given him new ways of teasing youâafter four years of near-kleptomaniac tendencies, heâs finally stopped stealing your erasers and has instead started to let his gaze linger on your face, to call you pretty when you least expect it, to tuck your hair behind your ear. You hate it most when he asks you whether thereâs something from your romance novels or movies that you want him to recreate. âIs there a field big enough nearby that I can walk through at the break of dawn, Mister Darcy-style?â heâll say, or âIâve always wanted to try that upside-down kiss from Spider-Man. Itâs a classic, really.âÂ
Summer comes early in June. You need to bring a two-liter water bottle and a hand fan to your exams, and youâve never felt such relief as when it was all over. After endless pictures with your parents and siblings, just your parents, just your siblings, then Kazuha and Sunoo, together, then separately, then with Heeseung and Jongseong as well, Kazuha forces you and Jongseong together, watching with a smile as he shyly wraps an arm around your waist and you awkwardly throw up a peace sign. Itâs your first picture of just the two of you.
In July, you and Jongseong unlock a new first: saying goodbye. Heâs leaving to stay with his American family as he does every summer. You show up at his house the day before at four p.m. âto help him pack,â you say, but itâs Jongseong, and he finished packing two days ago. So instead, you sit on his desk chair, he on his bed, and you fight back tears. âYouâre coming back, right?â you ask, like heâs leaving to go to war and not Seattle. Amusement and affection flicker in his eyes. âOf course I am. I wouldnât throw four more years of being a pain in your ass away, would I?â he says, and you smile, because you know itâs going to be much more than four years.
But he doesnât just leave you with a few nice words. Avoiding your gaze, he hands you an envelope. Inside is a single ticket, a two-month membership for your cityâs arthouse cinema that you can only go to when they have student deals or when your parents have had enough of your begging. You canât even begin to imagine how much this mustâve cost. âJongâŠâ you murmur, in awe at the thin slip of paper between your hands. âThis is incredible. Thank you so much.â
Jongseong looks down at his feet, fighting a smile as he kicks the invisible rocks that obviously litter the floor of his bedroom. âI thought youâd get bored without me around, so, that way you can entertain yourself, I guess⊠And if you run into any film bros next year, youâll have seen as many pretentious movies as them.â
You burst into laughter then, and, without thinking, wrap your arms around his neck, thanking him over and over again. It takes him a second, but he wraps his arms around your waist and says itâs no big deal.
As you walk down the path from your house, he calls out your name. âDonât be a stranger,â he says.
You smile. âNever.â
So, heâs not here for summer. Kazuha is working in her parentsâ ramen restaurant to make some money before leaving, even Heeseung leaves two weeks into July for Seoul to visit some relatives there and get accustomed to life in the big city. You only get to laze around with Sunoo, but even he eventually leaves for his grandparentsâ house by the sea, making you promise youâll come visit him at some point, otherwise heâll âdie of boredom.âÂ
Itâs August now, and your brain and body alike buzz with restlessness. You go to the cinema almost every day, making the best of your subscription. If youâre not going around your house looking for spider webs with your vacuum cleaner, youâre riding random bus lines and discovering parts of your town youâve never set foot in before. If youâre not making your way through your never-ending pile of unread books, youâre creating your own stories, finally taking the time to properly outline and draft the one-line ideas youâve had sitting in your Notes app, preparing yourself for the start of your degree. Your mind is taken up with love stories. From Romeo & Juliet to Dirty Dancing to Book Lovers, you canât get enough of the genre. You become particularly obsessed with stories involving time travel, rewatching After Time and Lovely Runner like they contain some precious knowledge. By the end of the month, youâve turned your life into an eight-episode TV seriesâa desperate girl makes a wish on a star only to discover she is fated to marry the one boy she hates most. You know youâd watch that. You send Sunoo and Kazuha the pilot, and after calling you insane numerous times but also heaping on praises, Sunoo says this: lol your going through jay withdrawals.
It shakes you so much youâre not even compelled to message back youâre*.
But heâs not wrong. The more you let yourself admit it, the more you realize how true it is: you miss Jongseong. You text once in a while, youâve even stayed up late talking on the phone a couple of times, but you miss him, his corporeal form, having his gaze on you, having the possibility but never the courage to touch him. Every day, thereâs something you want to tell him about. The cats huddling around a young neighborhood kid as he pours milk into a bowl, the clearance sale at your local library, most books for one buck only, the actor from an 90s Hong Kong film you swear has the exact same smile as him. You donât want to bother him, so you write letters instead. Some you send, some you donâtâthe ones you keep hidden in your drawer usually hint too obviously at your feelings for him. Some of them donât just hint and contain lines of your declarations: I miss you, everything I see reminds me of you, I want to check that your bruises have healed completely even though the last trace of them faded months ago. You keep these letters a secret, even from Sunoo and Kazuha, who would never let you live down such woebegone, down bad behavior.
You do it because it feels good, getting all of your feelings out on paper. Youâre a romantic at heart, so youâre prone to over-exaggeration when it comes to things like theseâbut everything that you write remains based in truth. Youâd started with a postcard of your hometown, jokingly writing, Donât forget where you came from. How is it over there? and heâd actually replied with a postcard of his own, filling it from top to bottom. You easily went from these small postcards to multiple pages of stream-of-consciousness-like writing. You think itâs the most romantic thing youâve ever doneâalthough youâre not sure he feels the same way, considering he still writes to the German pen pal Ms. Schumacher had assigned him in your first year of high school. No one elseâs correspondence had lasted more than four months because sheâd immediately forgotten to make sure you kept in touch regularly.
I ran into Jake Sim at the city library, you write one day. Youâve replied to everything in his latest letter, so youâre now catching him up on your recent adventures. He was checking out some books about Linguistics, of all thingsâhe bought me bubble tea afterwards and told me that the injury he got last April was actually a relief. Did you know his father was a big name in soccer here? Apparently, he never wanted to be a soccer player that badly, and he wants to do Linguistics and Social Anthropology, who wouldâve guessed it. Heâs like Troy Bolton if High School Musical was about Humanities and not singing. Anyways, you probably donât want me to go on and on about him, so I wonât, but we did talk about that fight you guys had back in December. He apologized for it, to you and me both, although he didnât go into much detail â Sunoo is still the only one whoâs had the balls to tell me exactly what happened, and he wasnât even there! â and I was reticent at first, but he seemed genuine. He said he didnât even hang out with Sunghoon or Yunjin or any of those people anymore, that it was only out of convenience really, and that he hopes starting university will be like turning over a new leaf. Well, he could be full of shit, who knows. As I sat there listening to him I wondered what it was I used to see in him. Heâs nice enough, but we only spoke about him for the entire hour. He asked me no questions that werenât âand you?â so it was a bit exhausting.Â
But it got me thinking about your fight again. Reflecting on it now, I can say that it was a turning point for me in my perception of you.
You look at your words, smiling to yourselfâthis is one of the times where you find yourself erring from the topic at hand, instead indulging in sappiness and nostalgia. You write about how your opinion of Jongseong has changed over these months, how it wasnât seeing him as your husband in all those years that had really shaken things up, but rather that day in the nurseâs station, the frightening colors around his eye, his attitude like it was natural that he would get hurt like this for you. You write, Have I been wrong about you this whole time? I thought you harbored the same negative feelings towards me as I had you since the moment youâd laid eyes on me, but all of a sudden, here you were, bloody, bandaged hand holding mine. Even with your busted eye, you looked like an angel next to all that white in the nurseâs station. Iâll never forget your words that day. Would you really not get hurt for anything else, Jong?
âIâm going to the Post Office for a package soon, Y/N. Are you done with your letter?â your mom calls from the staircase landing.
âGive me five minutes!â you call back.
You forage through your drawer for a new sheet of paper and re-write your letter, making sure to leave any compromising parts out and fold both letters into neat squaresâone that will cross the seas and reach Jongseong, one that will live out its days in the darkness of your crowded drawer. Youâve run out of envelopes, so you go look for one in your parentsâ office. Your mom calls out your name again, impatient to leave â if she sends her package off before twelve p.m., it will get to the receiver tomorrow, and sheâs hell-bent on getting perfect five-star Vinted reviews â so you hurriedly put your letter in the envelope, close it, stamp it, and write Jongseongâs name and address on the back. The other letter you absent-mindedly throw in your drawer with the dozens of other letters in which youâd crossed the line.
--
A few weeks later, like an apparition, Jongseong stands before you again.
Heâs tanner from months under the Washington sun, from afternoons spent at his familyâs lake house, on their boat. His hair is slightly shorter and suits him even better; you donât recognize any of the clothes he wears. He grumbles as his mother goes back-and-forth between hugging him, staring at him worriedly and reminding him to call at least twice a week while his father unpacks the trunk. âIâll only be a thirty-minute train ride away, Mom,â he says.Â
Heâs still Jong.
You moved in yesterday, and youâre now waiting for your new roommate, who, after five minutes of deliberating whether she should bring a jacket or not and finally decided against it, changed her mind the minute she stepped outside.Â
Itâs been two months since you last saw him. Shortly after sending your letter, youâd gone to stay with Sunooâs grandparents for a week, just a day before he was set to come back from Seattle. Amid packing and other preparations, you havenât had time to see each other. Is it okay if I respond to your letter in person? I think Iâll be too busy these two coming weeks, he texted you. You replied that it wasnât a problem, you told him which dorm youâd been assigned and found out his was the one next door.
When he notices you staring, he does a double-take. You wave at him, and even from this distance, you see the blush that creeps up his neck and takes over his face as he shyly waves back. Youâve never seen him like thisâheâs always been either arrogant or friendly, never⊠flustered. He makes a motion as if to say, Iâll text you, and heads inside the building with his parents and all of his luggage. Â
Indeed, he texts you some hours later while youâre sharing a piece of strawberry and matcha cake with your roommate Liz, whom you find out is half-GermanâJongseong and your dad would probably love her for that simple fact. Some of the first things sheâd asked you were what your astrological signs were and whether you wanted her to pull tarot cards for you when she was all done setting up her side of the room. Between that and her dyed blonde hair, youâd felt comfortable telling her all about Jongseong, the well and your dream. Unlike your skeptical and sarcastic friends, sheâd nodded along to your every word, a serious expression on her face. âA sign from the universe,â sheâd called it, and she gasped in excitement when his name appeared on your screen.
He sends you a link to a freshersâ week event, some potted plant sale happening on the main campus square, and asks if youâre free to go with him tomorrow. I need something to liven up that depressing room, he writes.
So thatâs how you find yourselves among green plants of all shapes and sizes, searching for one thatâs both low-maintenance and appealing to the eye. Youâre glad that you have something to actually doâif you were just sitting at a cafĂ© and having a conversation, youâre not sure youâd be able to stand the awkwardness. Youâd chalked up his behavior on the day of his move-in to nerves, or to surprise upon seeing you so unexpectedly. But apparently, it wasnât a one-time thing. He keeps clearing his throat as if he were sick with some cold, wonât look into your eyes for more than split seconds at a time, and in complete opposition to his usual confident, deliberate speech, talks in a quick and disorderly manner. And heâs either really caught a cold, or his ears have just permanently turned red. You ask him if somethingâs wrong a couple times, but he violently shakes his head, says, âNo, what could be wrong?â then looks at you as if you might tell him whatâs wrong.
When youâre alone again, you wonder what on earth could have happened over the summer that could make him change his behavior with you so radically. Did something happen in Seattle? Maybe he met someone there and doesnât know how to tell you. Maybe you went overboard with your letters, he doesnât want to be friends anymore, he wants to let you down easy but doesnât know how to tell you. Or maybeâmaybe you got impossibly pretty during those two months, and absence does make the heart grow fonder, as they say, and every thought you have about him, he has about you, but he doesnât know how to tell you.
In any case, heâs hiding something.
The theory that he might want to stop being friends soon falls flatâthe invitations to other freshersâ events keep coming, be it free wine & pizza taster sessions from the Wine Society, karaoke nights with the Taylor Swift Society or a shark movie marathon with the Bad Film Society, and he never turns you down when you tell him thereâs something you want to visit in this new city of yours, even when the thing you want to visit in question is a bakery you have to queue in front of at seven a.m. if you want to get a pain au chocolat. In your defense, they turn out to be the best ones you and Jongseong have ever triedâalthough, to be fair, neither of you has been to France.
Things progressively return to normal. Heâs able to make eye contact for more than three seconds again, he listens carefully and laughs along when you tell him about your week by the sea with Sunoo, he fills you in on what Heeseungâs been up to. One thing remains different, howeverâwhen you throw quips at him, he usually wouldâve delighted in coming up with a better, wittier response, but now, heâll roll his eyes at best, look at you amusedly and stay silent at worst. âWonât you even entertain me?â you ask him once, to which he replies that youâre doing a good job entertaining yourself as is.Â
Instead, he becomes more earnest. As per usual you badger him with questions like Arenât I so pretty right now? or Isnât my outfit so cute today? to get a reaction out of him, and if during your high school days heâd either fake a puking sound or look you up and down and grumble I guess, he now smiles and simply says Yes, you are, Yes, it is. It seems impossible to keep track of his attitude: one day, heâs one thing, the next, heâs another person entirely.Â
It annoys you. You take his changing demeanor to mean that now that heâs a college student, he wonât indulge in your childish squabbles anymore, as though he was above all of that now, when just three months ago he was stalking your parentsâ Facebooks to find unfavorable photos of you from when you were thirteen and using them as reaction pictures in your friendsâ group chat. You think of your graduation day, of the box heâd given you, all done up in wrapper paper and a bowâhe had filled it with every eraser heâd stolen from you over the years, heâd even gone so far as to date every single one of them, from the second of October freshman year to the twenty-eighth of November of your senior year. You didnât count them, but there had to be at least a hundred. At the time, youâd just thought it was funnyâbut what if the gesture had meant something deeper than youâd realized? What if he was marking the end of something with that box? No more playing around, weâre adults now. But classes have barely started, you donât know your way to the off-campus library, you arenât a different person to who you were just weeks or even months earlier. Why is he acting like he is? You look at him, and you see the boy whose fault it was you had to buy a new eraser every weekâwho knows how many books you couldâve bought with that money. But when he turns to look at you, too, and your eyes meet, youâre suddenly assailed with the memories of that night, the kind eyes, the soft smile.Â
Does his future capacity to love me already exist in his heart?
Your heartbeat speeds up and you have to look away.
--
From your letters, it seems to be much hotter back home than in Seattleâyou talk of sunburns, of afternoons spent inside with the fan on maximum speed, of ice melting instantly and watering down your Coke Zeros, whereas Jay can walk around the city pleasantly and needs to bring a jacket if heâll be out until late after sundown. And yet, as he reads your latest letter, his skin prickles feverishly, from the top of his head to the tip of his toes. Heâd excitedly torn the envelope open the second it arrived in the mail, heart thumping as he counted the pages, at least three more than usual â he was always happy that you wanted to talk to him at all, so the fact that you had this much to tell him sent him over the moon â but he would have never expected what was awaiting him inside.
With a smile on his face, he read your replies to the questions heâd asked you last time, your reactions to everything he told you about, the live Mariners game, the lake house, the rides on the boat. He imagined you as you sat at your desk in your room heâd only seen once, when youâd held a small party for your birthday and he, having arrived first, was honored with a tour of your house. He imagined your smile, the way you played with your hair when you focused on something, wondered whether you pondered every word before you wrote it down as he did or whether you poured your thoughts out onto the page without hesitation. His smile faltered when Jake Simâs name appeared in your neat handwriting, but he was relieved to find out your description of him now was miles away from the one at the start of the school year.Â
Then you start writing about him. Him, Park Jongseong, and your words startle him so much, itâs like heâd forgotten he was the recipient of this letter in the first place.
But it got me thinking about your fight again. Reflecting on it now, I can say that it was a turning point for me in my perception of you.Â
Heâs been lying comfortably in his bed, but he sits up the moment his eyes take in these words. If there is one topic the two of you have practically never broached, itâs this exactly: your relationship, the changes itâs gone through this past year. Except for a few mentions made in jest here and there, youâve always conveniently ignored the fact that not so long ago, you were at each otherâs throats. At least, you were at his throat, and Jay let you be, let you think the hatred went both ways, when in reality all he wanted was to keep you close one way or another. To him, anything was better than indifference.
But here you are, writing about how you feel about him, not in hints, not in jokes, but actually telling him black and white what goes through your head when you think of himâin other words, everything heâs been dying to know ever since he met you and especially ever since you started warming up to him a few months ago.
I have never told you about that night because I know itâll just be more fodder for you to endlessly tease me, and I havenât even mentioned it in these letters that I write and donât send. Sometimes I debate the ethics of itâif I know something about our futures, isnât it right that you know, too? But then again, I still hesitate whether what happened was real or not. As with anything, the more time passes, the more I forget about it. What kind of cheese youâd put on the pasta, the movie that played in the background, whether the stairs were carpeted or woodedâthese details have evaded me by now. All I clearly remember is your face and how I felt, seeing it then, seeing it the next day at school, ten years younger, the same exact person in what felt like a different universe. As much as I tried to deny it, I know now that it was no coincidenceâI was talking about it with Sunoo and he said that sometimes, we want something so badly, we conjure it up for ourselves. Heâs not always a dimwit. And heâs right, the kind of love I felt from you in that dream â or not-dream â Iâve yearned for it ever since I first watched Pride & Prejudice, the 2005 film to be precise, when I was ten. But with you? That was what I couldnât believe at first. I donât think I need to explain whyâyou were there, I think you knew how I felt about you for over three years, itâs not like I tried to hide it.
Then you turned up and the sight of you was enough to bring back all the feelings from that dream. You mustâve wondered why my behavior with you switched so suddenlyâwell, a glimpse into marital bliss is sometimes enough for a girl to make some changes in her life. Yet I valiantly tried to convince myself that any flutter of my heart around you was due to this stupid dream, to a version of you my brain had conjured up because it was starved for affection, and you happened to be at the forefront of my mind, even if not for the right reasons. But it was no use. I had entertained the possibility that this future was really mine, and I couldnât go back to seeing you as the boy who annoyed the living daylights out of me.
But Jong, if you werenât you, I wouldâve been confused for a week and then I wouldâve gotten over it. I stayed confused for a while, and everything you did only served to confuse me further. I started to notice you more, to see you for who you were and not for the idea I had constructed of you in my head, I stopped taking note of only the things that reinforced this idea. And that changed everything.
Letâs get it out of the way: as much as I hate to admit it because it proves you right, I saw that you are indeed devastatingly handsome. It devastates me every time I have to look at that stupid, wonderful face of yours. And if aging is something youâre worried about, donât be. Iâve seen you at 28, and letâs just say that your jaw somehow only gets more chiseled. Iâve realized that you donât just participate in class to be a prick â except for when you contradict me in Literature, I know you only do that to piss me off, and yes, it works â but that you actually care about what we learn and that you donât want the teacher to feel like theyâre talking to a classroom full of students made out of bricks. Iâve also realized that you didnât specifically pick German to be the one subject where you must beat me at all costs, you just actually really like German, even if Iâm still undetermined as to why. And I can finally admit to myselfâyou are funny. Sometimes. There were so many times I had to stop myself from laughing at one of your idiotic puns because I could not bear to give you the satisfaction. That feeling when the worst person you know makes a funny joke, and all that. And as much as Iâve mocked you for it, I do actually like your laugh. I like that youâre only loud when you laugh, or sneeze, or get excited over something. You donât scream, you donât get angry, and I think thatâs a lot for a boy fresh out of puberty. Or for any boy, really.Â
But above all, youâre kind, Jong. I think itâs the best thing about you. I think itâs the best thing anyone can be. I see it in your patience with Heeseung when he starts one of his rants better reserved for Reddit than real life, I see it in the way you took Sunoo and Kazuha in stride, even though theyâre a bit rough around the edges sometimes, I see it in the way you guide the freshmen at the start of every year, when all anyone does is complain about them, I see it in the gentleness with which you let down the girls who confess to you, even the more persistent ones. I used to think they were crazy, but I understand them more than ever now. I also used to think that all those kindnesses meant that the ones you occasionally showed me meant nothing more than thatâoccasional kindnesses. You were just a nice guy, occasionally so to me. But you sort of ratted yourself out when you gave me those twenty chocolates for Valentineâs.
Or, really, what made things clearer was that fight in December. I guess I was wrongâyou do get angry. I remember a thought I had at the time: just when I think I know you, you do something to shake it all up. You punched two of the star soccer players of our school in the face because they said some mean, unimportant things about me. Thinking about it now, I still donât understand it. Was it another one of your acts of kindness?Â
And then I thought of those other times you helped me out. Do you remember themâthe art project, the handwritten notes after my grandma passed away, you tearing Park Sunghoon a new one in the girlsâ bathroom. Iâm sure there are many more that Iâve dismissed simply because I did not want to see you in any other light than the one Iâd decided to shine on you.Â
Maybe Iâm rewriting the past here, but Iâve been thinking about something lately. The theme today seems to be honesty, so Iâll lay myself bare and tell you something I havenât told anyone yet, not even myself. The more I write, the more I become aware of its truth. I like you, Jong. I think I have for a long time, longer than either of us thinks. Maybe thatâs why I kept buying erasers.
I donât have the best memory â I suspect iron deficiency, it runs in my momâs side of the family â but I do remember this. The first time I saw you. I havenât noticed your face changing in real time, but Iâm sure Iâd laugh at how much of a baby you looked back then. Although I didnât fare much better, Iâm sure. Well, youâre the one that has all these embarrassing pictures of me, you freak, so Iâm sure you could tell me. Moving onâŠÂ
I found you really cute. You were chatting to the person next to you, maybe it was Heeseung, I didnât look properlyâI only looked at you. Donât laugh at me. It was the first day of high school, there was a nervous energy in the air, but you seemed happy to be there. You know I donât have hordes of friends like you do, I donât walk through life with people naturally gravitating towards me. Iâm okay with it now, but it was something I struggled with back then. Kazuha, Sunoo and I have had each other since our elementary days, and I never needed more than thatâbut fifteen is the prime age for comparison, and as the weeks passed and we got used to being high schoolers, I listened to everyone sing your praises, I watched as you talked with all of our classmates, even our teachers, like you were old friends. But we sat next to each other in a couple of classes, and you wouldn't talk to me outside of partnered work. I, who wanted to be easily charmed by you like everyone else was, who thought maybe youâd help me come out of my shell. But it felt like sitting next to me was torture to you, like the boy whom I watched speak with ease to everyone else disappeared when I was around. And so â and Iâm not proud of this â every smart remark in class, every joke that had the entire class roaring, every high five you gave out in the hallway, I started to despise them. And by association, I started to despise you. After that, it was easy to find fault in everything you did, my contempt was only enhanced by everyoneâs admiration. But Iâm not alone here. It went both ways, didnât it? I donât think you liked that I didnât like you and openly showed it, so used to being everyoneâs favorite person you were. I remember how you showily tried to be nice to me after that, maybe you just wanted another friend, but I didnât let you. I donât blame us for how we acted, only for taking so long to get our heads out of our asses.
(I have to say, I also have a thing for hating people. Remind me to tell you about Na Jaemin and Shin Ryujin one of these days.)
Anyways, I think itâs because I had liked you so much at first that I could then seemingly hate you so much. But I never hated you, Jong, not really. Iâm sorry if I gave you that impression. Can I take it all back now?Â
Now that weâre entering university soon, I canât help but look back on high school. This is what I want to know, but Iâm not sure Iâll ever have the courage to ask you, because if your answer is the one I suspect, I donât know how Iâll handle all the regret in my heart.
Have I been wrong about you this whole time? I thought you harbored the same negative feelings towards me as I had you since the moment youâd laid eyes on me, but all of a sudden, here you were, bloody, bandaged hand holding mine. Even with your busted eye, you looked like an angel next to all that white in the nurseâs station. Iâll never forget your words that day. Would you really not get hurt for anything else, Jong?
Your letter abruptly ends here, no concluding remarks, no wishing him a fun time in Seattle and looking forward to his next letter, no sign-off. It was as if someone cut you off before you could say everything you wanted, but then why send him this seemingly unfinished letter? It is all the more bizarre since your letters are usually meticulous: you write on every other line, it looks like you take your time with every single letter, the only disturbance in your otherwise perfect handwriting is your going back-and-forth between cursive and script sâs. But this particular letter looks rushed, your lines are sloppy, some words need to be read a few times over to be understood. What kind of state had you been in, writing these words? Jayâs heart swells, thinking that you were as moved writing as he was reading. He even looks through your letter again, wishing to find a tear stain somewhere, but there are none. Maybe heâs been watching too many of these romantic period dramas you always go on about.
He has to pace his room when heâs done reading your letter, but he feels trapped inside these four walls, so he dashes outside, saying that heâs getting some air when his relatives ask him where heâs off to in such a rush, and walks around the block five times. When heâs back in his room, he rereads your letter, eyes taking in each and every word slowly and carefully, making sure he doesnât misread anything.
You like him. You, Y/N, like him, Jongseong, itâs a fact, itâs real, you said so yourself, you went into quite some detail about it, he canât believe it, but itâs real, itâs written right there on the page, if anyone dares tell him heâs fooling himself, he can prove them wrong, youâre the one who said it.
The smile doesnât leave his lips for the rest of the day, he can barely eat, heâs already full of happiness. He reads your words over and over before falling asleep, committing them to memory, dreaming about them, about you.
You. How should he respond to this? Are you even expecting a response? You seem to know heâs not impartial to you, either, although thatâs an understatement.Â
In the following days, the thought that you hadnât meant to send him this letter nags at him. The abrupt ending, the absence of your usual Love, Y/N. The fact that this had come out of left fieldânone of your previous letters had even a romantic undertone, no matter how he tried in his own to hint at his missing you, the most reference to seeing each other again you would give him was Itâll be better to show you this in real life. The act of sending letters itself didnât feel very platonic, but you never went there, so he didnât, either. He had secretly yearned to have you this close all these years, he would never forgive himself if he ended up chasing you away now with his over-eagerness.
You had landed on something very real in your letter: I donât think you liked that I didnât like you and openly showed it, so used to being everyoneâs favorite person you were. I remember how you showily tried to be nice to me after that, maybe you just wanted another friend, but I didnât let you. He cursed his fifteen-year-old self, that idiot who couldnât even speak to a girl no matter how much he wanted to, just because she was so pretty, he was afraid of saying something stupid and messing it up before it even had a chance to start.
On days when youâd had particularly nasty or petty arguments â it could get pretty bad, at the start, before you both started maturing and realized how ridiculous you were, especially with your classmates telling you to keep it classy â heâd stay up all night, wondering why you hated him so much in the first place, what on Earth he couldâve done to warrant such vitriol. Now, finally, he knew, and he could only resent the fact that no one had invented time machines yet, so he could nip his useless ego in the bud; so he could tell younger Jay not to take it personally, that you had your reasons for disliking him, that even if you hadnât, the world wonât end if someone doesnât like him like everyone usually does.Â
Because, he hates to admit, that was what had done it for Jay. He couldnât stand that someone â not just someone, but one of the prettiest girls heâd ever seen, a girl heâd been hyping himself up to talk to every day, but never found the courage to â didnât immediately fall for his charms. And not just that, but even showed just how much she disliked him. You looked him up-and-down with disdain, made disgusted faces at his jokes, rolled your eyes when he spoke up in class. It made him burn with anger, but he also weirdly enjoyed itâat least, you were paying attention to him. So, he amped it up. Talked louder, laughed louder, hovered around you. He even stole your erasers, wrote the date on which heâd taken them, kept them in a box on his desk that he looked at every time he studied at home. He aimed to beat you in every class you shared, even though neither of you cared that much about gradesâthe annoyed look on your face when he boasted about the two points heâd gotten over you was enough satisfaction.
All in all, he behaved like a child, and you reciprocated in like.
Until you didnât.
It was a random Tuesday when something in your attitude towards him shifted. It wasnât a complete 180, but he noticed everything about you, so even a slight change of your tone was obvious to him. You started using your nickname for him more often than his full nameâhe never told you, but of course he loved that you didnât call him Jay like everyone else, that you had your own way of addressing him. It was a sign to him that the two of you had something special, even if it was on the opposite end of the spectrum of what he wanted with you.
He again spent sleepless nights wondering what had caused this change: was it something he had done, or something within you? It was a welcome change, that much was sure, but he was initially too confused to take it in stride. Heâd long made peace with the fact that heâd never have you the way he really wanted, so he was fine with whatever this wasâbut now, you were changing, your interactions were tinged with something like shyness, the distance between you felt greater than ever. He tried to keep up his smart-ass appearances around you, but you only indulged in your old habits once in a while, as though you had grown tired of arguing with him, even of giving him the time of day.
So he resolved himself to adapting his behavior to yours. If you stared at him intently like his face was a puzzle you were trying to solve, he let you, rested his head on his palm and smiled as he stared back at you. Finally, he had an excuse to look at you without you threatening to punch him or saying a picture would last longer. He knew they did, heâd had to resort to scrolling through Sunooâs and Kazuhaâs Instagrams to find any photos of you. Yours was private and at the time, you wouldâve probably cursed him out if heâd sent a follow request. If you seemed too annoyed or upset over something, heâd leave you alone, heâd do something nice to let you know you didnât need to have your guards up at all times around him. If you seemed to silently call for a truce of hostilities, he easily complied.
Then, after a few weeks, your petty arguments resumed, but those too were differentâif before they felt filled with real disdain and irritation, they now seemed to be a comfortable habit to fall back on, almost like a fun hobby. Those, too, Jay readily welcomed.
And so things changed in a direction Jay had never thought would one day be possible. You gave him no explanations, nor did he ask for any, and soon he stopped losing sleep over the whyâs and the howâs and simply let himself enjoy the fact that you now had the semblance of a friendship, that he could compliment you and pass it off as amical teasing, that he could learn things about you like what you spent your weekends doing, what your relationship with your family was like, whether you were a dog or cat person, whether you wanted to visit his farm in Stardew Valley.Â
Unsurprisingly, this only enhanced his already pathetically strong feelings for you. He worried over how to make sure this wasnât some sort of 30-day friendship trial you had wanted to test out. He reveled in the fact that his top university of choice was the one you had already been accepted to. He now knew what it felt like to have you smile at him, smile because of him, and he never wanted again to live in a world where this was not a daily occurrence.Â
He now sort of has an answerâyour letter doesnât make it very clear, it makes him think again that you really had not meant to send it, but you seem to have had a dream. A dream of him, 28-year-old him, to be precise, of your life togetherâheâs not sure. At this point in time, he doesnât care much, either. Whether it was a dream or a real vision of the future that you had, all that matters is that it allowed you to see him in a new light, a light which he had hoped for years would one day appear to you, and it had changed things. And now, you liked him.
You said so yourself.
Heâs at a loss for words. He canât concentrate for long enough to put all his thoughts in order, he canât make himself calm down and write his feelings down. He has to pack to go home, once heâs home, heâll have to pack for university. But itâs only two weeks from now to the day you meet again, and itâll be better to say what he wants to say in person, anyway.
Is it okay if I respond to your letter in person? I think Iâll be too busy these two coming weeks, he texts you.
And then those two weeks pass like two seconds and youâre there, a few meters away from him. All the speeches heâd prepared in his head, from grand declarations of love to laid-back admittances of Yeah, I like you too, youâre cool, I guess, they all vanish from his head. For fourteen days heâs been going through scenarios upon scenarios of your reunion, what youâd look like, what heâd say, how youâd react. But now that he can actually see you, now that he would just have to walk a few steps if he wanted to touch you, hug you, kiss you â hoping that was something you wanted to do â he freezes. He forgets how his body works, the part in his brain thatâs meant to manage language ability fails him. HIs mom calls him over, urging him into his new dorm building, and all he can do is wave back at you like an idiot.
When finally he musters the courage to text you, what he hopes will be the day that starts your romantic relationship turns into the day Park Jongseong realizes how much of a loser he is. For the first hour, he canât look at you, he canât get through a sentence without stuttering out half of his words, he runs out of things to say in record time. All he can think of is how easy itâd be to grab one of your hands, hold it in his and walk around this stupid potted plant sale as if the two of you were two halves of a whole. He doesnât even want a potted plant, his roommate already has five, he just wanted an excuse to see you. He steals glances at you when youâre looking elsewhere, and he notices everything about you tenfold now that he can, now that caring about you doesnât need to be in vain any longer. He tells himself that he just needs to calm down a bit, even when you have the confirmation that the person youâre about to confess to already likes you, revealing your feelings to someone is always nerve-wracking, the two of you havenât seen in each other in a while, heâll talk to you once his heart gets out of his throat.
But youâre acting normal. Suspiciously so. Youâre acting like you never told him you liked him, like nothing has changed between you. He rereads your letter the second he gets back to his dorm. Heâs not crazy, itâs written right there, I like you, Jong. I think I have for a long time, longer than either of us thinks. He knows the words by heart now, but he checks them anyway. So why are you acting like you never said anything? Had you really not meant to send that letter? Did Jay actually intrude on your private thoughts by reading words that had never meant to be seen by another soul?
You continue to behave as you usually would around him, but if he couldnât go back to vicious bickering when things changed the first time, he canât go back to friendly bickering now that things â for him â have changed a second time. He doesnât even want friendly to be in your shared vocabulary anymore.Â
So he stops giving in. If you make fun of him, he just stands there with an unimpressed if amused look on his face. If you pedantically correct him on something, he just nods his head and accepts it. He can tell youâre bothered by it, but he needs to show you that he doesnât want to go on being just friends with youâhe wants to compliment you without having to pass it off as teasing, he wants to stare at you with hearts in his eyes without having to look away when you catch him, he wants to spend every waking second of every day with you, he wants to hold your hand, hold you.Â
He could wait for things to change slowly again, but why wait when he could help things along?
--
Itâs nine p.m. on a Saturday and youâre sneaking Jongseong into your dorm. Liz is away for the weekend, gone back home to celebrate her auntâs birthday, so you have the room to yourselves. It took some convincing to get him to come â What if we get caught coming in, What if your T.A. sees us, What if I get reported to campus police â and so when your verbal reassurances failed to work, you resorted to blinking up at him through your lashes and that did the trick.
Jongseong was in many ways unlike any other man youâd ever met; in some other ways, he was the exact same.
Plastic bag of the tteokbokki youâd asked for in hand, he looks around the deserted hallways like someone might jump out of nowhere and beat him to a pulp at any given moment. At this time of the week, everyoneâs out partying or holed up in their dorms, presumably either to rest or because of a lack of friends so early on in the semester. You grab his free hand and hurry him along to the elevatorâonce inside, it takes you a few seconds before you realize youâre still holding it, and you retract your hand quickly while he just smiles.Â
You settle yourselves on the floorâcomfort is not worth getting gochujang sauce on your white sheets. You sit criss-cross in front of each other, the food between the two of you, and catch up on your first week of class in-between bites of spicy, gooey rice cakes and fish cakes. You wonder, if one day you and Jongseong are no longer friends, how long you will keep associating tteokbokki with him.
When you tell him that you and Jake share a class, Introduction to Film Studies, he gives you a look. âWhatâs that face for?â you ask.
âDid you guys sit next to each other?â
You chuckle. âOf course. We only knew each other in that room, it wouldâve been weird not to.â
He continues to stare at you. After a while, he muses, âYouâre notâŠ?â
You halt in your tracks, rice cake at the end of your plastic fork hanging in the air, halfway between the container and your mouth. âWhatever youâre thinking, the answer is no.â Still in love with him, interested in him again, you donât know the exact details of Jongseongâs thought process, all you know is he has nothing to worry aboutâif itâs something he worries about.
When a smile slowly grows on his lips and he nods, saying, âOkay, good,â you let yourself think it might be.
Later, youâre ten minutes into a senseless blockbuster movie when he suddenly pauses it. It snaps you out of a tranceâhis hand was awfully close to yours, so is his shoulder, his thigh, his knee, everything, really, and you havenât been able to concentrate on anything but the warmth radiating off his skin and the intensity with which you crave to feel it intentionally rather than accidentally. When he speaks, thereâs something serious in his tone that makes you nervous. âY/N,â he says as he turns to you, and now his face is awfully close, too. Thereâs still many centimeters separating you, but in this tiny, barely lit-up room, he feels closer than ever before. âDo you remember when I said Iâd reply to your letter in real life?â
You tilt your head. âYeah, that was ages ago.â
âWell, I thought Iâd do it now.â
âNow?â
He takes a deep, shaky breath. âNow.â
And then those safe centimeters suddenly disappear, and Jongseongâs lips are on yours. Itâs a brief, chaste kiss, so quick you wonder if it even happened when he leans back again.
âI like you, too,â he says, and your heart stops.
âW-what?â is all you can say back, eyes wide like heâs just admitted to killing someone rather than reciprocating your feelings.
His confident facade quickly crumbles. âGod, this was so much cooler in my head, I-Iâm sorry.â He pulls something out of his sweatpants pocket, pages folded over and over into a tiny square. As he unfolds them, you recognize your paper, your handwritingâbut what do your letters have anything to do with him kissing you, of all things? âI donât think you meant to send this. But Iâm glad you did.â
He hands you the pages and your eyes skim over the words, not detecting anything out of the ordinary, untilâBut it got me thinking about your fight again. Reflecting on it now, I can say that it was a turning point for me in my perception of you. You remember this line, because you had made sure to strike it and everything that came afterward out when you rewrote the letter that you would actually send Jongseong. So how was he giving you this?Â
âI-How do you have this?â you ask, voice trembling. You feel as though your heart overflows with all kinds of emotions, and so your eyes follow, tears staining your lower lashes.Â
But Jongseong is not one to let you hide things from him. âHey, no, itâs okay,â he says, warm hands coming to cup your face. âLook at me.â You have no choice but to obligeâhis gaze is somehow both soft and stern, a mix of concern and determination. âDid you mean what you wrote in here?â You nod. âThen everythingâs okay. You donât know how happy I was reading this.â
The tension in your body slowly starts to fade. âReally?â
âReally. I cherish every single word in there.â
âReally?â you repeat, and he chuckles.
âReally.â
Your heartbeat speeds up as you gaze into his eyes, as you let yourself bask in the affection and endearment you find there. You canât quite comprehend whatâs happening. The letter, the kiss, his confession, your inadvertent confession, itâs all a mess in your head; so sudden, but such a long time coming at the same time. You never imagined that things would change so quicklyâless than a year ago, you thought Jongseong was the most irritating person on this planet. After meeting his 28-year-old self, you thought itâd take ages for the two of you to be on such good terms. But now, just a week into your first semester of university, belly full of tteokbokki and Sprite, you like each other enough not only to be in the same room without hurling insults at each other but to actually be smiling at each other, willingly at that.
Your eyes drift down to his lips, just like in the hallway all those months ago, and the words slip out before you can stop them. Theyâre a mere whisperââKiss me again.â
Jongseong doesnât need to be told twice. Still cupping your face, he bridges the gap between the two of you again, and this time, when your lips meet, they donât come apart so quickly. Itâs your first kiss, and itâs nothing short of magical, better than any romance novel couldâve prepared you for. His lips are warm and soft against yours, moving slowly, gingerly; as if heâs scared to take any wrong step, he lets you control the pace, follows every tilt of your head this way and that. Itâs a relief that he seems to know as little about this as you doâhis hands havenât moved from your face, yours are on his knees, all you can do is focus on the movement of your lips, to think of anything else at the same time would be overwhelming.Â
âIâve liked you from the start,â he suddenly says, face still so close you can feel his breath on your lips as he speaks.Â
âHm?â you hum, body reeling from the kiss.
âIâve liked you from the start,â he repeats, grinningâhe looks relieved, like heâs been waiting to say these words for a long time. âI canât believe this is happening after all these years. Or at all, really.â
âI think I did, too.â
âYeah, you mentioned that in your letter.â
Your eyes widen and you bury your face in your hands as Jongseong laughs. âYouâre never going to let me live that down, are you?â you mumble.
He smooths over your hair with one hand, brings your face back up with the other. âDonât worry. I wonât ever make you regret this.â
Your brain and heart are too all over the place for you to come up with a coherent answer, so you lean in and reconnect your lips to his. Itâs already becoming your favorite sensation, feeling him smile into the kiss, threading your fingers in his soft hair.
Time passes delicately like this, the two of you on your single bed, in the sheets that you bought three weeks ago. A lot of it is spent kissing and learning how to fall into each otherâs rhythm, but you also spend hours talking, comparing situations and how youâd experienced them. You thought his occasional acts of kindness were done out of guilt, evidence that he did have some morals; he was trying to show he cared about you. He thought youâd despised him from the moment you saw him; you reiterate in more detail than your letter what really happened, you say you wish you knew then what you know now.Â
âBut I never hated you, Jong. I think I wanted to believe that I did, but I never actually did.â
âYou glared at me everytime I walked past like I killed a member of your family.â
You groan, ashamed of yourself. âI did, didnât I?â
âYou did,â he says, chuckling, placing a kiss on your forehead. His arms are around you, your head rests atop his heartâyouâve never felt more comfortable in your life. âBut itâs okay. Weâre here now, and I donât want us to have any regrets about high school. We had a good time, didnât we?â
You tilt your head up to look at him. âIâm sure you did, stealing all my erasers.â
He lets out a hearty laugh. Clearly, heâs very proud of his feat. âHey, I gave all of them back.â
âAnd what am I going to do with a hundred erasers, Jong?â you ask, laughing too, pecking his cheek aggressivelyâyour way of punishing him for a grave deed.
âKeep them as a token of my love for you,â he says, and your breath falters at the mention of that word. âIn fifty years, itâll be a sign that Iâve liked you since the beginning, I just had a funny way of showing it.â
âFifty years, huh?â
He grins. âFifty, a hundred, whatever. Youâre not getting rid of me.â
âI wasnât planning to.â
Youâre both smiling so wide, you can barely manage a kiss. He trails kisses from your lips to your ear. Holding you close, he whispers, âItâs always been you, Y/N. Always and only you.â
There may be thorns on the otherwise immaculate rose that is your life, but Park Jongseong was never one of themâall along, he was a bud waiting to bloom.
--
The more time passes, the more you wonder whether that night you had seen in your vision will ever come. Thereâs been evenings similar to itâcrashing the minute you came home from a long day on set, telling yourself youâd take a fifteen-minute power nap only to wake up three hours later and coming downstairs to find your husband cooking dinner, cleaning the kitchen, taking care of your son or simply watching TV, but waiting for you, always waiting for you. He seems as happy now watching you come down the stairs as he was then finding your face among all the students flocking out of lecture halls.Â
The details are blurry now, but many small things seem to be different from what youâd seen. He still tries to recreate your favorite meal, but itâs not pasta all'arrabbiata, itâs laksa, because your first date as an official couple was to a Malaysian restaurant, not an Italian one. Heâs still the best father you know, but you have one son, not twin girlsâalthough that offer to âgive him a younger sibling to play withâ is always on the table. Even the house you live in is different from the one in your dream, which has now become nothing more than a funny anecdote you share with people when they ask you the story of how you and Jongseong met.
You think of Sunooâs words from all those years ago: Sometimes, we want something so badly, we conjure it up for ourselves. Had 18-year-old you been in such denial over her feelings for Jongseong that sheâd had to convince herself a magical well had bestowed a crazy dream upon her to admit that, yes, there was something there, something other than childish hatred?
It doesnât matter anymore. Months pass without you thinking about that well, anyway.Â
Tonight, you come home late from work after having had to do last-minute changes to the script for your current project, a movie that starts shooting in a few days. Jongseong texted you that he was going to bed an hour or so again, so youâre greeted by a plate of japchae covered in film paper. The post-it note stuck to it reads, Iâm afraid of the repercussions of too much curry consumption on our son, so no laksa tonight my love. Hope you like it. Come to bed quick. You were starving a second ago, but you decide food can waitâother things canât.
You tiptoe up the stairs and into your sonâs room, breathing in the scent of his hair and placing a kiss there. His hair is still worryingly sparse, but if heâs anything like his dad, itâll come in a bit later than the other kids. You always thought babies with a full head of hair were freaky, anyway. He doesnât budge a bit, sleeping like a logâhis dad is another story, shuffling in bed the moment you step into your shared bedroom. He opens his arms wide, a silent invitation.
âYouâre home,â he says as you attach yourself to his body, your leg hiked up over his, your face buried in the crook of his neck, your thumb caressing the start of stubble on his cheeks.
You smile. âI am.â
© asahicore on Tumblr, 2024. please do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works. support your creators by reblogging and leaving feedback!
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#enhypen x reader#jay x reader#jongseong x reader#enhypen fluff#jay fluff#enhypen fanfiction#jay fanfiction#enhypen au#enhypen imagines#enhypen scenarios
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need you
[rafe cameron x fem!reader]
summary: rafe woke-up from his sleep, heâs needy and youâre right next to him.
warnings: smut, dirty talk, praise, pnv, unprotected sex
rafe sighed heavily moving in bed, he tried to change side of the pillow but both were hot, and the fact that his cock in the boxers was hard didnât help at all. he looked at the alarm on the bedside table next to him 2:46 a.m., it had been going on like this for almost an hour, he shifted his gaze next to him where you slept blissfully without having the slightest idea of what was happening next to you.
could he jerk off? yes of course, but at that moment it wasnât his hand that he wanted, it was your pussy, feeling your wet walls sucking him inside and squeezing him was what he needed. he tried to restrain himself, not wanting to wake you up for some of his dirty pleasure but it was becoming unmanageable.
his gaze moved down, your back slightly arched while you slept on the left side, the little babydoll you were wearing had risen slightly making the base of your ass visible to his eyes. he cursed internally as you released small murmurs.
he groped his cock with his hand feeling the fabric of the boxers slightly wet from his pre cum. he turned sideways towards you, approaching so that his cock was against your ass, he released a choked moan at the sensation, his hand rested on the soft skin of your thigh slowly rising stopping with a firm grip on your waist. âbabe..â his voice was low and hoarse, his mouths a few centimeters from your ear, his despair grew more and more as he slowly began to rub against your ass.
âbaby wake up... I need youâ his voice this time louder as you slowly began to come out of your state of sleepiness, you opened your eyes feeling his warm body pressed to yours, all you could see was black apart from a few glimmers of light coming from the window. ârafe...â you moved slightly, your mouth kneaded as your eyes automatically closed again, wanting your sleep back.
âwhat is it?â you managed to say, your eyes still closed while his hand was still firm on your body, you felt small grunts coming out of his lips while his hips moved slowly against your ass, looking for some kind of friction, his hard cock against the soft skin of your asscheek, âlemme take care of thisâ he whispered.
âIâm tired babyâ you almost complained, but rafe didnât seem willing to stop, âi know pretty girl, iâm gonna do everything âkay? you donât worry about itâ he insisted, you could feel the despair in his voice and seeing him in that state for you made you feel the same way. âbe quickâ you said moving your ass on him, a grin formed on rafeâs face as his arm moved under your body, grabbing your tit in his hand.
he quickly lowered his boxers, his hard cock came into contact with your ass, his tip red and swollen desperate to release. he raised the babydoll to your belly moving the pair of panties you were wearing to the side, his tip pressed against your wet entrance as his hand gripped your ass. he squeezed a hand around the length directing his tip to push inside your hot hole.
rafe entered inside you slowly making you feel every single inch of his length stretch you, you couldnât help but moan at the sensation while rafe behind you did the same thing, loving the way you felt around him. âjust made for me mhm? nice and warm âround meâ he praised you, his eyes closed fully enjoying the feeling of being inside you, slowly pulling himself out and then pushing himself back inside you.
his thrusts were deep but slow, hitting the right spot making you bite your lip. âlemme take care of you baby, go back to sleepâ he whispered in your ear, but you werenât listening at all, your mind still sleepy while rafe used your pussy to get himself off, you werenât sure if it was a dream or it was really happening.
âmhm fasterâ you said feeling his cock throb inside you and despite the state in which you found yourself you felt needy for more, âi got yaâ rafe pleased you, his thrust faster as the room filled with the sound of his body slamming against yours, his cock came out and entered quickly inside your wet pussy.
you let out a loud moan as rafeâs hand moved towards your clit, his fingers applied the right pressure moving quickly on the bundle of nerves causing your body to tremble, your hand tightened onto the pillow.
âfuuck soo goodâ your voice choked by the various moans as rafe squeezed your nipple, you moved your arm back wrapping it around his neck, pushing him even closer to you than he already was. you turned your face to him to feel his lips, the kiss was messy and sloppy interrupted by your continuous moans. âthatâs right baby, squeezing me so fucking tight can barely move in hereâ his dirty words did nothing but bring you even more to the edge, arching your back meeting the speed of his thrusts.
âyou there baby? give it to meâ rafe incited you leaving sloppy kisses on your jaw going down to the neck, he could feel how your body was shaking and how your pussy was tightening around him that you were about to reach your peak. âiâm so close rafeâ you breathed feeling a weight forming in the lower stomach, his thrusts faster and faster helping you reach your orgasm.
âgo on, cream all over my cockâ his words did nothing but push you even more to the climax and with a loud moan you let yourself go, your hand tightened around the pillow while you released yourself on rafeâs dick. rafeâs hand tightened around your ass, his thrusts slowed down becoming deeper, he himself was approaching his orgasm.
âgonna cum in this pussy, fill you up so goodâ you whined at his words, his still hard cock abused your overstimulated pussy, you could feel every single vein of his length pumping inside you and you almost reached your second orgasm. âI want it rafeâ you said desperately, your voice low and tired, the sleepiness had amplified after the orgasm and in a few seconds you would fall back into a deep sleep.
âyeah? Imma give ya every single dropâ he reassured you, his words trembling as he felt himself getting closer and closer. âs-shiit... thatâs itâ his voice choked by a loud grunt, he stopped deep inside you while his cock covered your walls with his hot cum. you were now almost asleep when you felt his liquid fill you and his low grunts behind you, you unknowingly emitted a little whining at the sensation.
after a few more thrust he reluctant pulled himself out, he emitted another low grunt at the loss of the sensation of your pussy holding him so tight. while he was putting his dick back in his boxers he realized that your breath had become deeper, now completely asleep.
âdid so good princess, i love youâ he whispered leaving a sweet kiss on your shoulder.
#drew starkey#outer banks#outer banks x reader#rafe cameron#rafe cameron x reader#x reader#drew starkey x reader#smut
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Little moments, big hearts - LN4
*:ïœ„ïŸ Summary: You and Lando spend a cozy morning babysitting your brotherâs baby. Between playful banter and tender moments, Lando hints at a future together, leaving you both feeling closer and full of hope.
*:ïœ„ïŸ Word count: 2270
masterlist / community / request
ౚà§
The sun was just beginning to peek through the curtains, spilling soft, golden light across the room. Lando lay stretched out, one arm slung across the mattress, while you were curled up beside him, close enough to feel the steady rhythm of his breathing. Between you, cradled in a little cocoon of blankets, was your brotherâs baby boy, whose eyelids fluttered softly in the early morning light.
Your brother had asked if you and Lando could babysit his little one for the day while he and his wife went out for the first real date they'd had in months. You had barely been able to answer before Lando was nodding enthusiastically, the prospect of a baby-filled day surprisingly welcome. And now, here you wereâstill half-asleep, all three of you wrapped in a cozy little pile on the bed.
âDid I ever mention,â Lando whispered, his voice still laced with sleep, âthat you look ridiculously cute with a baby in your arms?â
You cracked one eye open and met his gaze, fighting off a drowsy grin. âI think you mentioned it once or twice. Maybe.â
Landoâs fingers lightly traced circles along your arm as he shifted his gaze back to the tiny, slumbering face nestled between you. âHeâs actually quite peaceful,â he murmured with a smile, âfor a little guy who woke up every two hours last night.â
âHe has been a little handful,â you admitted, biting back a yawn as you watched the baby stir slightly, one chubby hand curling into a tiny fist.
âBut,â Lando added, his voice softening as he adjusted the blankets around the baby, âI kinda get why your brother adores him so much.â He looked up at you, his eyes warm, a mischievous glint lighting up his tired smile. âThough I have to say, I think he looks cuter in my arms.â
âOh, really?â you teased, rolling over to prop yourself up on an elbow and raising a playful eyebrow. âI think heâd say otherwise.â
Lando laughed quietly, his eyes gleaming. âCare to make a wager on that?â
You snorted, gently nudging him. âAs if heâs going to pick sides.â
âWell, I think heâs got good taste,â Lando replied, feigning a cocky smirk. âHe already knows Iâm the fun one.â
You couldnât help but laugh, careful not to wake the baby. âIâd hate to break it to you, but Iâm pretty sure Iâm his favorite.â
Landoâs eyes twinkled, and he leaned a little closer, lowering his voice to a murmur. âFine. But Iâm your favorite, right?â
Rolling your eyes, you swatted him lightly, but you couldnât stop the smile that tugged at your lips. âIf you keep your voice down and donât wake him up, you just might be.â
A soft chuckle escaped him, and he brushed a strand of hair from your face. âYou drive a hard bargain.â
For a few minutes, you just lay there, letting the quiet settle over the room, feeling Landoâs hand gently tracing up and down your arm, your heart warm with the weight of everything familiar and right. The baby stirred every now and then, tiny hands reaching for your fingers, which you offered gladly. Every so often, heâd grasp one of Landoâs fingers, his little face creasing in what looked like the beginnings of a smile.
Lando watched him with a look youâd rarely seen, an expression caught somewhere between awe and contentment. He caught your gaze and offered a sheepish grin. âI think I could get used to this.â
You raised an eyebrow. âOh?â
âYeah,â he said softly, glancing back down at the baby. âI mean, lazy mornings like thisâŠwith you, and maybe even a little one of our own someday.â He gave a small shrug, his cheeks just a little pink. âJust thinking out loud, you know.â
The thought made your heart skip a beat, and you couldnât help but smile as you reached out, taking his hand and giving it a squeeze. âMaybe someday,â you murmured, your heart swelling at the idea of more mornings just like this.
Lando looked at you with such warmth in his eyes, a gentleness that felt like sunlight. âYeah, someday,â he whispered back, his thumb rubbing small, soothing circles on your hand.
The baby let out a little sigh, his mouth forming a perfect âOâ as he squirmed a bit before settling back down, his breathing soft and even. Lando chuckled, pulling you closer so you were nestled against him, your head on his chest as his fingers brushed up and down your back in gentle strokes.
âI think we wore him out,â you murmured, watching the babyâs peaceful face.
âOr maybe he wore us out,â Lando replied, stifling a yawn.
âTrue,â you admitted, stifling a laugh. âBut I donât mind.â
âNeither do I,â Lando whispered, his voice so soft you could almost believe he was already half-asleep.
With your eyes drifting shut, the morning seemed to stretch on forever, warm and unhurried, filled with a quiet joy that made you want to hold onto every second. You could feel Landoâs heartbeat beneath you, steady and sure, a gentle reminder that this was real. That he was real.
After a few minutes, you felt his fingers brush against your cheek, his touch light and lingering, just enough to make you open your eyes and meet his gaze. He was smiling at you, a slow, tender smile that sent your heart racing all over again.
âHey,â he murmured softly, just barely above a whisper.
âHey yourself,â you whispered back, grinning.
Lando leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. âJust so you know,â he murmured, his lips brushing against your skin, âIâm pretty sure this is the best morning ever.â
And as you lay there, wrapped up in him and in the cozy warmth of your little family-in-the-making, you couldnât help but think he might be right.
-
As the morning continued to unfold, the soft sounds of the babyâs breathing mixed with the occasional rustle of the sheets as you and Lando shifted to make yourselves comfortable. The sun climbed higher in the sky, filling the room with a warmth that was both cozy and invigorating.
Landoâs gaze drifted back to the baby, who had finally settled into a deeper sleep. âYou know,â he said, his voice still low and sleepy, âI never thought Iâd enjoy babysitting as much as I do right now.â
You chuckled softly, brushing your fingers through the babyâs soft hair. âI guess itâs different when youâre with someone who makes everything feel like an adventure.â
âExactly,â Lando replied, his eyes sparkling with mischief. âAnd I think I could handle a little adventure with a baby.â He shifted slightly, reaching out to tickle the babyâs tiny foot, eliciting a small, involuntary kick. âSee? Iâm a natural!â
You laughed, shaking your head in disbelief. âA natural? Youâre just lucky heâs too young to complain about your dad jokes.â
âHey, my dad jokes are legendary!â Lando protested, but there was no real bite to his words. His laughter mingled with yours, filling the room with an infectious joy that made your heart swell.
The lazy morning drifted on, the three of you wrapped in a cocoon of warmth and comfort. You eventually found your way back to each other, resting against Lando as he softly hummed a tune under his breath. It was a familiar song that had been playing in the background during countless evenings together, and it filled you with a sense of nostalgia.
âDo you remember the first time we tried babysitting?â you asked, your voice soft as you recalled the chaotic but hilarious day filled with spilled snacks and a wailing baby.
âHow could I forget?â Lando replied, chuckling. âYou practically had a meltdown when he wouldnât stop crying, and I was trying to convince you that it was just a phase.â
âIt was more than just a phase!â you countered playfully. âThat baby had some serious lungs.â
âBut you handled it like a champ,â he said, his tone turning earnest. âI knew right then that you were going to be an amazing mom someday.â
The words hung in the air, weighty and filled with meaning. You felt your cheeks flush, warmth spreading through you at his compliment. âYou think so?â
âDefinitely,â he affirmed, looking at you with an intensity that made your heart race. âYou have this natural way with him. I can just picture itâus, in the future, juggling a couple of little ones, surrounded by laughter and chaos.â
You smiled, imagining the scene. The thought was both exhilarating and terrifying, but more than anything, it filled you with a sense of hope. âThat would be quite the adventure.â
âExactly! Just imagine all the little personalities,â Lando said, his excitement palpable. âAnd the races! I can see it nowâwhoever can crawl the fastest to the toy chest wins!â
You giggled, shaking your head at the image of tiny feet scurrying across the floor, driven by the competitive spirit of their father. âTheyâll probably inherit your need for speed.â
Lando pretended to be offended, clutching his heart dramatically. âHow dare you! I think Iâm quite well-rounded.â
âSure,â you teased, leaning closer to him. âA little too well-rounded sometimes, if you catch my drift.â
Lando feigned indignation, his eyes widening comically. âYouâre saying Iâm lazy?â
You grinned, nudging him playfully. âNot lazy, just⊠well, strategically conserving energy.â
âStrategically conserving energy, huh?â he replied, laughter bubbling up in his chest. âIâll accept that.â
Just then, the baby began to stir again, letting out a soft coo as he blinked his eyes open. Landoâs attention immediately shifted to him, his expression transforming into one of pure adoration. âHey there, buddy!â he said softly, leaning in closer to the baby. âDid we wake you?â
The baby responded with a wide yawn, stretching his tiny limbs and squirming a little. You exchanged amused glances with Lando, both of you enchanted by the little oneâs antics.
âLooks like heâs ready for some fun,â Lando said, scooting back against the headboard and inviting you to join him. You moved carefully, bringing the baby up to sit between you, cradled by your arms.
As you settled in, Lando began to make silly faces, exaggerating his expressions until the baby let out a delighted squeal. âSee? He thinks Iâm hilarious!â Lando beamed, puffing up his chest as if he had just performed a great feat.
âMaybe he just thinks you look funny,â you retorted playfully, but your heart melted at the sight of Lando completely engaged, his laughter ringing through the room.
You spent the next little while playing with the baby, taking turns making silly noises and watching as he responded with giggles and bright smiles. Each time he let out a laugh, Landoâs face lit up with pure joy, and you couldnât help but feel the warmth spreading through your chest.
After a while, the baby grew sleepy again, his eyelids drooping as he nestled back against your chest. You gently rocked him, humming a soft lullaby that came to mind. Lando leaned against you, his fingers brushing against your arm as he watched the scene unfold.
âLook at you,â he murmured, his voice a low whisper. âYouâre going to be an incredible mom.â
You felt the warmth bloom in your cheeks, your heart racing at his words. âYou really think so?â
âAbsolutely,â he replied, his gaze steady. âYou have this amazing ability to make everything feel safe and loved. Anyone would be lucky to have you as a mom.â
âLandoâŠâ you said, your voice trembling slightly as you struggled to keep the emotion at bay. âYou make it sound so easy.â
âIt is easy,â he said, a hint of seriousness creeping into his tone. âWhen you love someone, itâs easy to give everything for them.â He paused, his gaze shifting to the baby, who was now peacefully asleep in your arms. âAnd I canât think of anyone Iâd rather share that with.â
Your heart swelled at his words, the sincerity in his voice leaving you breathless. In that moment, wrapped up in a blanket with Lando and the baby, you felt a surge of hope for the future, an understanding that thisâthis little family you had formedâwas just the beginning.
âThank you,â you whispered, feeling a rush of affection for him.
âAnytime,â he replied, leaning over to place a soft kiss on your cheek. âNow, letâs see if we can keep this little one asleep for a little longer. I could use a few more minutes of lazy morning bliss with you.â
You smiled, your heart full as you both settled in, cocooned in warmth and love. Time slipped away, and the world outside faded as you enjoyed the simplicity of the momentâthe laughter, the joy, and the shared dreams for a future that felt brighter than ever.
As the sun climbed higher in the sky, casting a gentle glow over the room, you felt that today was a day to remember. A day that promised adventure, laughter, and the sweet joy of simply being together. With Lando by your side, and a tiny bundle of joy nestled between you, you couldnât help but feel that the best was yet to come.
The morning stretched on like the most beautiful dream, and for now, everything felt perfect.
ౚà§
*:ïœ„ïŸ Notes; thank you for reading, loveâs! Hope you all enjoyed it! If there is something wrong or need to be edited, let me know!
*:ïŸtags;@spookbusters-jr
#lando norris#f1 fanfic#f1 fic#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#f1 x you#formula 1#formula one x reader#formula one x you#lando norris fanfic#lando norris fluff#lando norris fic#lando norris x reader#lando x y/n#lando norris imagine#lando x you#lando x reader#lando imagine#lando norris x you#lando norris x y/n#lando norizz#formula one#f1 fluff#f1 x female reader#f1 x y/n#f1#lazy mornings#baby#fluff#daddy lando
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đđ
đđđ đđđđ (s. jake x reader)
tw: somnophilia, fem! reader, unprotected sex, established relationship, pet names,
word count: 1.1k
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Laying on his back, Jake stares at the ceiling as another drop of cold sweat dribbles down the back of his neck. The ticking of the clock and your slow breaths are the only thing he can hear in the quiet bedroom, as he should be at three in the morning after all.Â
But he finds it really hard to go back to a peaceful slumber when just two minutes ago you were straddling his dick and he was just so close to cumming. And all of those sweet moans of yours, the slight shaking of your thighs and the mesmerizing bounce of your tits â all of it, just to turn out to be a dream.Â
With a heavy sigh, he turns to his side and looks at your sleeping self, so blissfully unaware of the armageddon that youâve caused in his brain. His eyes skim over your bare back, rising and falling with deep breaths, and suddenly heâs reminded of how just seconds ago he was thrusting, and thrusting, and thrusting up into you so well-
Shutting his eyes tightly, Jake swallows hard and stays like this for a minute or two to calm himself. When another, tired sigh pushes past his lips, he moves closer to you and drapes his arm over your waist, hoping that cuddling up to you will make him fall asleep faster, so that he can wake up in the morning and fuck you properly sooner.Â
Another issue heâs being faced with is that the night is so cold, and youâre just so warm and inviting, laying so prettily right next to him. The fairylights that youâve left turned on for the night cast a warm light on you, giving him a perfect view on the fading hickeys he left on your shoulder blades mere hours ago, and now really, how is he supposed to stop himself.Â
The twitch of his hard cock becomes more unbearable with every second and then he realizes â he just loves you too much to let you sleep in peace. He canât allow for your unforced beauty to go to waste, after all.Â
âMy pretty girl,â he whispers, barely audible as his voice is still heavily laced with sleep.Â
The shorts heâs sleeping in are already drenched and so uncomfortable to wear, so he carefully slips them down to discard them on the floor, right next to where all of your clothes from last night are resting as well.
He lets his impatient hands wander to admire your curves, and a low grunt rips out of his throat as his erection grazes against your thighs by accident.Â
Heâs an asshole â he knows it. But not that big of an asshole to enjoy all of this without you. So, instead, he settles on rubbing his hard cock against your perked ass, biting his lip with the first touch of your plush skin.Â
âNeed you sâ bad,â he mutters, leaning forward to pepper your neck with small, sloppy kisses.Â
One of his hands drifts to your chest. Whatever shame he might or might not have been fighting against moments ago, it all goes away when the glimpse of your quiet moan sounds through the room the second his hand touches the soft swell of your breast.Â
Jakeâs lips twitch up with a smile, and now without really holding back, he rolls his hips over your ass, letting his fingers rub and gently pinch around your hardening nipple. His other hand slips down to your pussy and a louder whine comes out of your throat when his thumb finds your clit.
âKnew youâre gonna like it,â he chuckles raspily into your neck.Â
His cock finds a perfect place to slot against you, thrusts growing more desperate and less cautious as the release heâs been craving for so long has finally started building up again.Â
He hugs you close to his chest, panting against your skin as he humps you like a pillow. Warm hand groping your tits, his tongue lays flat and licks up your neck, finishing at your jaw and nibbling underneath the bone.Â
You begin to squirm underneath his touch just as you begin to get wetter, and still in your sleep, you push your ass back into his pelvis. He feels so dirty, but too good to stop too, thriving off the idea that he can make you come even in your sleep. Jake loves that you need him just as much as he needs you.
Rocking his hips into you, your boyfriend is careful not to move you around too much, after all waking you up would make him feel guiltier than he already is. His precum soon smears all over your ass, his big hand pressing harder onto your clit in desperation to make you wetter.Â
And when he can finally hear the longed for filthy squelching underneath his fingertips, he breathes out and kisses your shoulder.Â
âJust the tip, baby. I promise.â His hand hastily reaches down and lines his cock against your entrance. Slowly, he pushes his mushroom head inside, eyes rolling to the back of his head. âCanât resist you.â
Your tight hole jerks out a louder whine out of him, not expecting you to suck him in so well, and if not for his self control he wouldâve blown his load inside you right then and there. But he decides to enjoy you, to edge himself for a little longer, sinking his red tip in between your walls once by once.Â
Just the tip, he has to remind himself after a particularly needy moan of yours.
His fingers skim over your perked nipple again, then cup your breast in his hand and squeeze it gently as he can feel himself getting closer to release. But then you tense in his arms and warm release streams down your thighs suddenly, coating Jakeâs fingers. You whimper, on the verge of waking up, and he smiles slyly with satisfaction that he actually made you come in your sleep.
âI know, baby, I know,â he murmurs breathlessly. His eyes are focused on your perfect ass, hands soon following their lead and groping at your soft flesh.Â
And then another pleased sigh leaves your lips and he just canât help himself any longer, so he pulls out of you quickly with a nasty smack and taps his dripping cock over your ass, thick streams of his cum glazing your skin not even a blink later. His mouth falls open as his chest heaves so rapidly in comparison to yours.Â
He canât get himself to do much else than to fall back into the pillows and wrap his arms around you, pulling you as closely to him as itâs humanly possible.Â
âLove you, love you so much,â he whispers, pressing a kiss to your jawline. âPromise Iâll reward you in the morninâ.â
Nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck, he can feel his eyes starting to droop after the restless night.Â
taglist: @bambisgirl @arizejkt19 @luvmura @milisabunny @cathy-1997 @dilucsleftshoelace @ramenoil @jenjnk @jaylaxies @seongiewon @nichoswag @s00buwu @mon2sunjinsuver @goreconsumer @i4kt @heehoonsnemo @seongslutt @criminalyun @enhabooks @antoinettenotfound
a/n: i used to love this the first time i wrote this but now it's just... meh... idek if this is worth putting on my masterlist lmfao
#okay i hate this lol#so much yapping i need to contain myself#welp anyways#enhypen x female reader#enhypen x reader#enhypen x y/n#enhypen x you#enhypen smut#enhypen hard hours#jake sim hard hours#jake sim x reader#jake sim x y/n#jake sim x you#enhypen jake x reader#enhypen jake smut#jake sim smut#jake sim hard thoughts
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TRICK-WHORE-TREAT!
summary: do NOT fuck summon the insanely hot curse, sukuna.
tags: trueform!sukuna x fem!reader, modern day, pwp, smut (p in v), Ćral sex (f!recieving), food (candy) play, sukuna has two dicks, heâs a bully, petnames, dumbification, etc. mdni.
w.c: 2.7k
a/n: HAPPY HALLOWEEN GUYS đ§Ąđ§Ą IM SOO HAPPY THAT YOU ALL HAVE BEEN FOLLOWING W MY KINKTOBEER MWAAA!!! lowkey sad itâs done but ENJOYYY đ§Ą
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âthe hellâs that?â you ask, stepping into the livingroom after finishing up your nightly skincare routine. tonight, itâs just you and your friends mina and sage, skipping every halloween party to hang out together . youâve all stocked up on snacks and horror games to keep yourselves entertained.
âno clue, got it off some marketplaceâthing was dirt cheap,â sage shrugs, holding up an ancient, dusty book that looks like itâs been around since the dawn of time. you step closer as sage hands over the grimy thing, flipping the first page and frowning at the unreadable text.
âthis is the dumbest shit ever, we canât even read it,â you mutter, slamming the book shut as dust fills the air, making you gag. but something about it still piques your interest, so mina does a quick search and manages to decode some of the ancient alphabet, translating the words:
RYOMEN SUKUNA, KING OF CURSES.
SEALED AWAY BY: GOJO CLAN.
DO NOT SUMMON.
you nearly lose it at the dramatic warning. a king of curses sealed up in a ten-dollar marketplace relic? yeah, super scary.
âso, this is likeâŠa bootleg ouija board?â mina asks, clutching your cat, coco, for comfort. you drop the book onto the coffee table with a snort as you and sage crack it open again, flipping through each creaking page. mina pulls your cat tighter as it hisses, clearly over her nerves. as you dig through the pages, you find some ridiculous official chant,
âryomen sukuna, king of curses, awaken now. break from the seal, emerge from the night.â
you and sage recite it over and over, while mina shuts her eyes like youâre actually summoning something worth fearing.
âlame ass book,â you scoff, tossing it behind you, where it lands with a dull thud on the carpet. after that, you grab the other games you brought for the night, and the three of you dive into a marathon of competitive chaos, yelling and laughing until your voices are hoarse. hours slip by, and between the endless rounds and maybe a bit too much snacking, exhaustion starts to sink in.
âgooood nighttt,â you all mumble sleepily as you collapse, deciding to let mina and sage take the bed while you settle onto the makeshift floor bed. you donât mind the floorâanything for them.
soon enough, silence fills the room, but in the dead of night, a sudden blast of wind slips under the door, rattling it hard enough to shake you awake. your eyes blink open, heavy with sleep, as a strange light spills through the doorâs cracks. did you really forget to turn the lights off?
you tap your phone and squint at the screen, 3:27 AM. you groan softly, realizing youâve barely slept an hour before the cool wins wakes you. maybe you left the window open?
rising from your makeshift bed, you glance over at sage and mina, fast asleep, curled up with your stuffed animals. you tiptoe toward the door, gently easing it open. you nearly yelp when coco, your cat, slips past you and pads silently toward the living room, ignoring your whispered calls as you follow her.
you freeze when coco hops up into a lapâa manâs lap.
your gaze slowly travels up the figure sitting casually on your couch. in the dim light, you canât fully make out his features, but you catch glimpsesâdark, muscular limbs, and the glint of red eyes that pierce through the shadows. coco purrs contentedly in his lap, her small body relaxed as he strokes her fur with a disturbingly gentle touch.
âc-cocoâŠ?â your voice is barely a whisper, each syllable shaky as dread knots in your stomach. as your eyes adjust, you realize he hasâŠmore than two arms. two extra limbs drape over the couch, relaxed and disturbingly still.
âcoco?â he chuckles darkly, voice rich and deep, cutting through the silence. âshow respect, peasant.â
a chill races down your spine. his voice carries a weight that sinks into your bones, making you want to shrink back. he cradles coco close to his chest, his other hands moving with unnatural grace, almost possessively, as if she were his own.
âsuch a precious creatureâŠiâve missed having a pet in my kingdom.â he speaks slowly, each word dragging, drawing you further into his presence. kingdom? a sinking feeling tightens your chest as your eyes flick to the spot where youâd tossed that cheap bookâŠnow gone.
you edge toward the light switch, hand shaking as you flip it on. what you see makes your heart plummet.
he sprawls on the couch with a lazy, terrifying ease, two extra arms draped like they belong there, his legs spread wide in dark, traditional robes, your small cat nestled comfortably in one of his enormous hands. as your eyes trail up, you catch the tattoos winding over his skin, tracing ancient patterns that seem to pulse. then you see themâtwo extra eyes, fixed on you, gleaming with an unearthly red glow.
âs-sukuna?â you breathe, recognition dawning as your mind replays the cursed illustrations from the book. your stomach twists. youâve summoned him. his head lifts, and his eyes lock onto yoursâfour intense, ruby orbs that make you feel like prey.
slowly, sukuna rises from the couch, his towering frame unfolding to its full, monstrous height. his head nearly brushes the ceiling, his presence filling the room, suffocating. he steps closer, holding coco in one hand while his other arms hang back, giving him an unnervingly calm stance as he approaches. youâre trembling, pinned in place by the dark weight of his gaze.
âwoman, your scentâŠâ his voice lowers, rough and insistent, as he gently places coco on the ground. she slinks off, disappearing into the shadows as his eyes never leave yours. ââŠitâs clouding my mind.â
a sharp heat flares through you, fear mingling with something darker. without thinking, you press your thighs together, shocked by the rush of sensation that shouldnât be there, not with this terrifying creature towering over you. you back away slowly, unable to break eye contact, until you feel the wall press against your back.
âtell me,â he purrs, a mocking smirk curling his lips as he steps into your space, trapping you between the wall and the solid, overwhelming force of him. âisnât it patheticâŠgetting all worked up for a âlame assâ like me?â he taunts, voice dark and dangerous. you swallow hard, realizing he heard every insult, every careless word about him and that âcheap ass book.â
ânot my fault that book was less than ten bucks,â you snap back, defiance flickering up despite the fear pressing down on you. youâre not sure where the courage comes from, but you hold his gaze.
his chuckle is a low, rumbling sound, his red eyes burning into you. your gaze dips down, lingering on the sculpted lines of his abdomen under his robe, catching on the hard outline beneath the fabric.
the sick fucker was turned on too.
heâs probably more turned on than you, and itâs beyond obvious as he has you folded in half on the couch, your legs painfully stretched back, feet nearly reaching past your head. two of his hands pin your thighs down with a grip that feels bruising, while his other two cradle the backs of your inner thighs, spreading you open with no mercy. his tongue, impossibly long and sinfully thick, reaches deep, curling once it finds that sweet spot that makes you cry out. your eyes flutter as you fight to stay conscious, catching a glimpse of his face twisted in raw, desperate need. when one of his eyes meets yours, a spark of dark hunger flickers within his piercing gaze, sending a shiver through your entire body.
your walls clamp around his tongue as he plunges even deeper, hitting places that make your breath hitch. âm-more,â you moan, voice needy and broken, completely lost in him. his lips curl into a smirk against you, and he lets you grind into his mouth, allowing you to lose yourself in the pleasure. without you realizing, sukuna reaches for something on the tableâa bottle of thick blue syrup, something new heâs been itching to try on you.
your eyes roll back when you feel the cool syrup drizzle onto your swollen, sensitive folds, and you gasp, watching as the blue liquid glistens against your flushed skin, sliding down to coat every inch. sukunaâs grip tightens, pressing your legs further down, holding you in the filthiest position imaginable. he takes his time, squeezing ever sticky drop from the bottle as it pools on your clit, mixing with your arousal and slowly dripping lower, reaching your entrance. his tongue pulls away just enough for him to admire the mess heâs made, eyes gleaming with satisfaction at the way the syrup clings to your needy, twitching cunt.
then, without warning, his mouth is back on you, his tongue dives in, lapping up the syrup in messy, hungry strokes. the taste of blue raspberry mixes with your own sweetness, driving him wild, and he groans deeply as he sloppily devours you. his lips stain blue, and he doesnât care; heâs making out with your cunt like heâs starved for it, sucking hard on your clit until your mind spins. you feel the gentle scrape of his fangs against your sensitive skin, and the pressure builds as he tugs and pulls, drawing out every bit of sensation he can, his mouth relentless and filthy as he drives you past the edge.
his grip tightens on your legs, pressing them even further down as he spreads you wider, eyes locked onto the sight in front of him. he lets his tongue swirl over your clit, catching the sticky syrup with sloppy, hungry strokes. âlook at you,â he groans between licks. âsoaked and covered in candy like my own personal treat.â he chuckles darkly, lips stained blue as he smears the syrup messily around your swollen, twitching folds.
ââkuna, jusâ fuck me already,â you whine, voice thick with impatience. youâve never felt this desperate, and your gaze keeps drifting down to the thick bulge pressing against his robe. all four of sukunaâs ruby eyes narrow, and he lets out a low, mocking chuckle, clearly taken aback by your demand.
âyou think you can boss me around, huh?â he taunts, his grip tightening on your chin as he taps your lips, silently demanding you open your mouth. the moment you part your lips, he spits a thick wad of saliva right onto your tongue. you swallow it instantly, almost embarrassingly eager. he grins down at you, his expression twisted with amusement, and gives your cheek a few light taps. âso nasty⊠and here i thought you had some dignity.â
in a swift motion he pulls you into his lap, forcing your thighs to spread over his muscular legs. when did he even take off his pants? you barely have time to process it as you feel the heat radiating from him, and your eyes drop to the bulge under his robe.
âyou want it so bad?â he sneers, pushing you back with a rough shove. âprove it. since you think youâre in charge, youâre gonna work for it.â he unties his robe with a calculated slowness, letting it slip open. your eyes widen, breath catching at the sight of not one, but two thick, throbbing cocks, pre-cum dripping from both angry red tips, veins snaking along their length. and on his stomach, a grinning mouth, twisted and sinister, completes the terrifying sight.
âwhatâs wrong? too much for you?â he laughs, watching as your jaw drops, taking in every inch of him. âthought you wanted to act all big and baaad.â his eyes flash as he jerks his hips up, rubbing his tips against your soaked entrance. âgo on then. ride me⊠letâs see if you can keep up, princess.â
ât-two? are you insane?â you gasp, eyes locked on his monstrous cocks, both thick and throbbing as they twitch under his dark gaze. sukuna just smirks, his hand wrapping around one shaft, tapping the flushed, swollen tip against your clit. each soft thud electrifies you, your body jolting with each contact as you slump against his chest, barely able to hold yourself up.
âcâmonnn, whereâd all that attitude go?â he sneers, flicking your forehead as a warning. the sting makes you wince, and heâs already impatient, lifting your hips with two large hands, positioning you right over his leaking tip. you can barely breathe as you look down, staring at how massive he is. thereâs no way you can take all of himâbut heâs clearly planning to fit both.
you cry out as he sinks you down onto his first cock, stretching you open in one brutal thrust. your eyes widen, feeling every thick inch filling you to the brim, your walls straining around him, slick and achy. glancing down, you can see the bulge forming where heâs stuffed so deep inside.
sukuna chuckles lowly, a dark, mocking sound that reverberates through your body as his hands roam your hips, patting your head in a twisted kind of praise. ânot so tough now, huh?â he taunts, his voice thick with satisfaction as he watches you struggle to take him. youâre utterly stuffed, thighs trembling, mind swimming, and heâs just getting started.
he groans when he feels your walls flutter around him, clenching tighter as his hands move down to your ass, squeezing the flesh hard enough to leave bruises. you moan brokenly, and he smirks, thrusting up with sharp, brutal snaps of his hips. each thrust sends squelching, messy sounds echoing in the room, your arousal spraying out, slicking his abs and thighs. youâre a mess, head lolling against his shoulder as the filthy noises fill your ears, lewd and obscene.
âthereee we go, brat⊠âm right here,â he drawls, one hand pressing down on the bulge in your lower stomach, making you sob. his thrusts grow rougher, inhuman, skin slapping against skin as the couch creaks under the weight of his assault. every time he drives into you, your juices squelch and spray, drenching both of you in a mix of sweat and slick.
âimagine what your friends would think of you,â he growls, voice thick with lust, âgetting fucked like a dirty little slut by a demon.â his words make you whimper, panic flashing in your mind at the thought of being caught. but it only fuels him, watching your pathetic, broken reactions as his cock slams relentlessly against your cervix.
then, you feel something warm and slimy flick over your clit, making your eyes snap open. you look down, horrified and aroused, to see a mouth on his stomach, tongue lapping hungrily at your swollen nub. you sob, grinding your hips down, desperate for any kind of release as his mouth devours your sensitive bud.
his cock throbs as he nears his climax, driven crazy by your whimpers and the way your walls cling to him, squeezing him tighter with every thrust. his pace becomes erratic, desperate, hips snapping up harder and faster, both of you teetering on the edge. âfuckkk,â he groans, voice rough, his brow furrowing as he loses control, thrusting sloppily as he chases his own release.
with one last brutal thrust, he spills hot and thick inside you, his cum flooding your insides, filling you up as you shudder and release with him. your essence sprays out, slicking his stomach and thighs, a messy mix of cum and arousal coating everything. his stomach tongue laps up every bit of you, greedily sucking up the slick mess. your body goes limp, utterly spent, as your head falls to his chest, lulled by the rhythm of his heartbeat and the warm stickiness between your thighs.
without a word, you two stay exactly where you are, not moving an inch as you keep clenching around his shaft. his fingers idly play with your hair, lulling you toward sleep whenâ
âwhat the fuck is going on?â
your eyes fly open, and you turn to see your friends standing in the living room, eyes wide and mouths hanging open as they stare at the two of you.
how in the hell are you going to explain thisâŠ
#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader#jjk fanfic#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#sukuna jujutsu kaisen#ryoumen sukuna smut#sukuna smut#ryomen sukuna smut#ryomen sukuna x reader#sukuna ryomen smut#ryomen sukuna x you#sukuna x reader#smut#anime smut#kinktober
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dirty old man - sleeping
In the quiet of the night, Joel canât resist the temptation to have you just as you are - sleeping, warm, and all his to use. By morning, youâre eager to give back, slipping under the sheets to wake him up with your sweet mouth, proving that sometimes, the best dreams are the ones you wake up to.
Warnings: MDNI, 18+, somnophilia, age gap, caretaker f!reader, Joel is a perverted old man (imagined age 60-70), reader in her 20s, DDLG dynamic, daddy kink, consensual somnophilia, intense possessiveness, penetrative sex, p in v sex, cuming inside, oral (male receiving), dirty talk, power dynamics, and themes of control, degradation, size difference, explicit sexual content, Joel having to pop some pills to keep up with reader bc hes an oldie
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· · âââââââââââđ„žââââââââââ· ··
It was the dead of night, and a profound stillness blanketed the world outside, making it feel as though you and Joel were the only two souls in existence.
He lay beside you, his warm body pressed against yours, a comforting presence that filled the space between you. His hand rested on your thigh under the covers, the gentle weight of it stirring a heat within you even in your deep slumber.
Hours had slipped by since you had drifted off, lost in dreams, while Joel remained wide awake, his thoughts consumed by a singular focus: you. Every gentle rise and fall of your chest, the way your lips parted slightly as you breathed, captivated him.
You had unknowingly spent the day teasing him, your playful glances and lingering touches igniting a simmering desire that he found impossible to ignore.
As he lay there, his dark eyes roamed over your peaceful face, memorizing every detailâthe soft curve of your cheek, the way your hair fell across your forehead. So damn pretty.
It was a temptation that felt like a potent spell, pulling him closer to the edge of something he craved deeply. The urge to wake you, to make you aware of his need, pulsed through him, igniting a fire that flickered in the pit of his stomach.
With deliberate slowness, his fingers began to explore your thigh, inching higher, savoring the softness of your skin beneath his touch.
The intimacy of the moment was electric, every subtle movement charged with anticipation. He knew you were his, entirely and completely, and the thrill of that realization made his heart race. The way you teased him without even knowing it had awakened a hunger in him, one that demanded to be satisfied.
Tonight, there would be no holding back.
His hand slowly slid higher up your thigh, grazing the hem of your shirt, slipping beneath it.
You werenât wearing anything underneath, just like he like - easy access, always ready for him.
He let out a quiet groan, feeling the slickness between your legs, even in your sleep. His cock twitched at the thought, already hardening against your backside as he pressed himself closer.
âFuck, baby,â he muttered low in your ear, his voice thick with need. âEven in your sleep, youâre ready for daddy, huh?â
You stirred slightly, a soft sound escaping your lips, but you didnât wake up.
Joel grinned to himself, his fingers slipping between your folds, spreading your wetness as he teased you gently.
He loved thisâhaving you completely at his mercy, knowing you were his to take whenever he wanted.
âYou know what daddy wants, hm, sweet girl?â he whispered, his voice dripping with lust. âGonna fuck you nice and slow, baby. Show you how much I need this sweet little pussy.â
You mumbled something incoherent, half-asleep, but your body responded instinctively, shifting toward his touch.
Joel took that as all the permission he needed. He reached down, positioning his hard cock at your entrance, pressing the tip against your slick folds.
âThatâs it,â he muttered, pushing inside you inch by inch, groaning at the feeling of your tight, warm walls enveloping him. âSo fuckinâ tight, - even in your sleep.â
Your body tensed for a moment, adjusting to the sudden fullness, but soon you relaxed, letting out a soft whimper as Joel started to move. He kept his pace slow, dragging his cock in and out of you, savoring the way your body clenched around him.
You were still half-asleep, your breathing deep and even, but the pleasure was unmistakable.
âFuck, you feel so good, baby,â Joel growled, his hips pressing against yours as he buried himself deeper inside you. âAlways so fuckinâ good for daddy, even when you donât know it.â
He thrust into you slowly, his hand gripping your hip to hold you in place.
You whimpered again, your body stirring as the pleasure built inside you, even in your sleepy state. Joel smirked, loving how easily he could turn you on, how quickly you responded to him.
âYou love this, hm?â he teased, his voice low and filthy. âLove beinâ daddyâs little fucktoy, lettinâ me fuck you whenever I want. "- always so ready for it, sweet one.â
His dirty words sent a shiver through you, even in your haze of sleep. You moaned softly, your hips moving against him, and Joel chuckled darkly, knowing he had you exactly where he wanted you.
âthat's my little girl,â he murmured, his voice softening just a bit as he slowed his thrusts. âDaddyâs gonna make you cum, just like always. - gonna fill you up so good, baby. 'You need that, donât ya? Old man cum inside your sweet cunt?â
You moaned softly, barely able to form words, but Joel didnât need a response. He kept thrusting into you, his pace picking up just enough to push you closer to the edge. Your body trembled, the pleasure building inside you, and before you knew it, you were coming undone around him.
âFuck, baby,â Joel groaned as your walls clenched around his cock, milking him for all he was worth. âThatâs it, come for daddy. Let me feel how much you love this.â
He fucked you through your orgasm, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he chased his own release. You were barely conscious, your body limp against him, but Joel didnât care. He loved having you like thisâcompletely at his mercy, his to use however he wanted.
âFuck, Iâm gonna come,â he growled, his hips slamming into yours as he finally reached his climax.
He buried himself deep inside you, groaning as he filled you with his release, his cock twitching as he emptied himself into you.
For a moment, the room was silent, the only sound the heavy breathing of Joel as he held you close. He stayed inside you, his cock softening as he pressed kisses to your neck. And lastly to your soft lips.
âYouâre such a good girl for me,â he whispered, his voice softening as he stroked your hair. âSo fuckinâ perfect.â
And as you drifted back into a deeper sleep, you couldnât help but smile.
· · ââââ
The morning sun was barely creeping through the curtains when you woke, the soft rays painting the room in a gentle light.
Joel was still fast asleep beside you, his chest rising and falling steadily, a peaceful expression on his face. But as you lay there, the memories of last night flooded your mindâhis hands gripping your hips, his filthy words in your ear, the way he used your body like he owned it.
The thought of it sent a familiar heat coursing through your veins. You couldnât help yourself. You needed him again.
Carefully, you slid under the covers, moving quietly so as not to wake him just yet.
Your lips brushed against the soft skin of his stomach, trailing lower until you reached his cock. He was soft, but the weight of him in your hand made your heart race.
You wrapped your lips around the tip, sucking gently, savoring the taste of him.
Joel stirred slightly, but he didnât wake. Not yet.
You smiled to yourself, your mouth sliding further down his length as you began to suck him off, slow and deliberate. The heat between your legs was already growing, the memory of how he fucked you last night playing over and over in your mind.
You couldnât get enough of himâcould never get enough.
As you worked him deeper into your mouth, you felt him begin to harden, his cock swelling between your lips.
His breathing changed, a soft groan escaping his throat as he slowly woke up to the sensation.
âMmm⊠whatâre you doinâ down there, sweet girl?â Joelâs voice was rough with sleep, but there was a smile in it too. His hand found your head, fingers tangling in your hair as he finally opened his eyes, looking down at you with that familiar hunger.
You leaned forward, the soft graze of your lips against his skin lingering as you looked up at him with a playful gleam in your eye.
âThought Iâd remind you of last night, daddyâ you murmured, your voice dripping with mischief, heat in every syllable. âCouldnât stop thinking about how good you fucked me.â
A rough groan tore from Joelâs chest, his fingers tightening in your hair, his hips pushing up slightly, his cock heavy and throbbing under your touch.
âKnew Iâd spoil you too good,â he muttered, the edges of his voice low and gravelly, thick with lust. âSpoiled from Daddyâs cock, huh? Look at you. Young thing, just desperate for itâŠâ
You only hummed in response, eyes darkening as you took him back into your mouth, feeling the weight and warmth of him press against your tongue.
You let him feel every inch of your attention, the way you circled your tongue around the head, teasing the sensitive skin there before sinking lower, deeper, lips sliding slowly down his shaft.
His rough breaths filled the air as you worked him over, and the steady beat of his pulse against your tongue was just as intoxicating as the groans slipping from his lips.
âThatâs it,â he rasped, his voice thick with satisfaction, his hand guiding you further down his length, pushing you to take him deeper.
âSuck me like that, sweetheart. Just like that.â The words only spurred you on, adding a new spark to the hunger simmering inside you.
You worked him harder, hollowing your cheeks as you moved, watching his eyes go dark with lust as you took him in, inch by inch.
His fingers tightened their grip in your hair, his hips thrusting up to meet the movements of your mouth, filling you over and over, his cock sliding deeper each time.
You could feel his gaze on you, heavy with admiration as he watched your lips wrap around him, taking him so eagerly. The rough timbre of his voice made the heat between your thighs ache, every word only feeding your need.
âJust canât get enough, huh?â he murmured, his eyes darkening as he continued to watch you. âLook at you, sweet girl, so damn hungry for it. Daddyâs cock got you addicted already?â
Your cheeks flushed as you looked up at him, your lips tightening around his shaft as you answered with another hum, letting him feel every inch of you.
His breathing grew more ragged, his cock twitching against your tongue as you took him deeper, savoring the way his hips bucked, the way he couldnât hold back.
âFuck, little one,â he muttered, his words edged with tension as he kept moving, guiding you, thrusting steadily into your mouth, each stroke deeper than the last.
âJustâlook at you, a pretty young thing like you, all wrapped around me like this.â His hand flexed in your hair, the heat in his eyes pushing you further as he muttered, âGoddamn perfect, sweetheart, fuckâŠâ
You moaned around him, the sound vibrating against him as you took him down again, feeling the rush of satisfaction every time he cursed, every time he let out a rough groan.
His hips thrust up with a final, shuddering need, and you could feel him reaching the edge, his body tensing, his grip in your hair tightening as he moved harder, needier, voice low and thick.
âGonna make me cum, baby. You want that? You want Daddy to fill your pretty mouth?â His voice broke, heavy with lust, his words hitting you like sparks as he thrust one more time, hips jerking as his release spilled down your throat.
You took him in, swallowing every drop, not letting an ounce go to waste, savoring the taste as he finally began to relax, his breathing slowing, his hand slipping from your hair as he looked down at you, his expression somewhere between satisfied and awed.
âJesus,â he murmured, his thumb tracing over your swollen lips, eyes warm, a smile tugging at the edges of his mouth. âYouâre somethinâ else, baby.â
You wiped your lips with the back of your hand, smiling up at him. âJust wanted to make sure you woke up with a smile.â
Joel chuckled, pulling you up into his arms, his lips pressing against your forehead. âYouâre gonna be the death of me, you know that?â
You grinned, your body already pressing against his, craving more. âNot before you fuck me again.â
âDamn, sweet girl,â Joel groaned, his hand sliding through your hair, tugging gently as he gazed down at you with a smirk of pure satisfaction. âWith that mouth of yours⊠Iâm gonna need those pills if Iâm gonna keep up with you. Go get âem for me, sweetheart. I wanna take my sweet time with you.â
He released a long breath, his chest still rising and falling from the aftermath of his release.
His thumb brushed your cheek, his eyes softening slightly as he spoke again. âAinât never felt this before. Not âtil you came into my life. You make me feel like Iâm twenty again, darlinâ. Like I canât get enough of you.â
His fingers slid down the side of your face, his touch tender now, petting your hair like he couldnât stop admiring you. âGod, youâre somethinâ else. My good girl, takinâ care of me like that.â
Your heart swelled at his words, and you couldnât help but smile, feeling the familiar heat building between you again at his filthy praise.
You leaned into his hand, knowing full well that the moment you got back with those pills, Joel wasnât going to hold back.
He was going to take his time
· · âââââââââââđ„žââââïżœïżœâââââ· ··
uhh......yes <3
#joel miller smut#joel miller x reader#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller x female reader#joel miller x you#joel miller#joel miller fanfic#joel miller fic#joel the last of us#joel tlou#mssalowork#mssalo#tlou smut#joelmiller#pedro pascal#pedro pascal x reader#the last of us smut#pervert!joelmiller#pedro pascal smut#dark joel miller#age difference#no outbreak au#smut
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the downward spiral (one shot)
PAIRING: stepdad!Joel x f!reader
WORD COUNT: 3k
WARNINGS: 18+ smut, stepcest, jealousy, possessive Joel. dubcon if you squint. Manhandling, Unsafe PIV, improvised toy, creampie. Brief allusion to Joel as your father figure. Hair can be pulled, can sit on Joel's lap.
NOTES: title is a nine inch nails album. reader has an apartment, but she's visiting for the holidays.
â---
In the kitchen, Joel listens to the coffee maker and checks the time. Leaning back against the counter, he opens his New York Times Games app. Heâs contemplating what to start with in WORDLE. âCUTIE,â he types. Â
A snapchat notification from you pops up, making him giddy. He adjusts his glasses, and his thumb hovers over the notification. If itâs erotic, heâd prefer to save it for a more private moment, but not now. Heâs been waiting for you to wake up, and heâd rather see you first. The inner battle furrows his brow, then he watches himself tap the notification. His face relaxes at the sight of you, and his cheeks warm with affection. The shot is pretty innocent, but thereâs a look in your eye just for him. And your lips are parted. Ugh, your perfect mouth.Â
âMerry xmas eve,â it says. 36 hours since he last touched you.Â
A shadow moves on the stairs, and he looks up from his phone to see you watching him, biting your lip with a little smile. You clasp your fingers behind yourself and stretch, then finish descending the steps.  Â
âMorninâ, sweetheart,â his hoarse voice greets you, then he clears his throat. He saves your picture to the chat, then slips his phone into the pocket of his gray sweats. He runs a hand through his hair, then braces his hands on the counter behind himself, leaning back as casually as he can, letting you know youâre in control.Â
You take your time approaching, and his eyes lock with yours when youâre close enough for him to smell your shampoo. He takes a deep breath through his nose. You lift your arms to waist height as you close the gap between your bodies. You wrap your arms around his strong middle, and he exhales as warmth radiates from your chest. Your body presses gently into his. Warmth. Comfort. Youâre made of joy.Â
He hugs you loosely, and you rest your head on him. His chest vibrates with a low, satisfied, âMm.â He presses the lightest kiss onto the crown of your head.Â
âMm,â you echo.Â
His thumb brushes the nape of your neck, and his other hand rests lower on your back, fingers spread, rubbing a slow aimless pattern. You smell just as warm and cozy as you feel. Your hips push forward, making him flinch, but . Warmth rushes to his crotch, and you donât pull away when it moves against you. He swallows, trying not to push back on you.Â
âItâs ok,â you whisper. As he relaxes, his bulge nudges you, and thereâs no mistaking his desire.Â
âSorry,â he whispers,Â
âDonât be,â you reply. Â
God damn, youâre making this hard.Â
The doorbell rings. âProlly a delivery,â Joel mutters, and his thumb brushes behind your ear. Â He savors every moment with you.Â
A few seconds later, thereâs a bunch of rustling around outside the front door.Â
âAlright,â Joel grumbles.Â
âLotta packages out hea,â a Boston accent is heard through the door. Oh, great. Itâs your neighbor down the street. The newly single one. Â
You start to pull away. Joelâs chest begins to cave in, but the feeling is quickly muffled by irritation. âThe fuck is he doinâ here?â Joel grumbles to himself, then accuses you, âThat why youâre down here?â With every muscle in his body tensing, he scratches the back of his neck.Â
Your head tilts in disapproval. âWould you keep it together? Please?âÂ
âYeah,â he agrees.
âYou sure? You good?â you ask.Â
He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and nods.Â
âYouâre doing good,â you reassure him, placing a hand on his chest.Â
The doorbell rings again, and Joelâs nose twitches. âGet outta here,â he nods toward the stairs. âNow.â
âChill, Iâm going.âÂ
He waits for you to get all the way upstairs before answering the door.Â
â
Thereâs Harold, crouched over, picking up one last package, trying not to spill his iced coffee in the process. He stands up straight and smiles with his bottom teeth, proud that he hasnât dropped anything. His navy, quarter-zip sweater is a little tight for his arms. âHappy holidays,â he says.Â
Joel has one hand on the frame, and one holding the side of the door. His body blocks the entry.
They look at each other for a moment. Haroldâs tired eyes fall on Joelâs gray sweatpants, tighter than they were ten minutes ago. With a friendly wink in his voice, he asks, âCatch ya at a bad time?âÂ
âYeah,â Joel responds flatly.Â
When Harold doesnât leave, Joel bites the bullet and accepts the packages.Â
âThey were all out here,â Harold mutters as Joel takes them one by one.Â
It wouldâve been easier for Joel to bring them in himself rather than indulge this ridiculous balancing act. Joel rolls his eyes as he puts the packages down on the floor inside. As he stands up, he glances around and sees no sign of you. Good. He turns toward Harold and grips the side of the door again, ready to close it.Â
Harold is standing there with a dumb smile and asks, âHow ya doinâ, man?â
âNot bad,â Joel forces, silently willing the neighbor to leave already.Â
âGood, good,â Harold mutters to himself. âMe too,â he offers without Joel asking. âWell, ya know,â he adds with a defeated shrug. âAll things considered.â Right, his divorce.Â
âDaughtah home?â Harold asks.Â
As soon as Joel translates it to daughter, his nostrils flare. His blood pressure shoots up. His vision blurs, and his glasses do nothing. Heâd like to kill this man. He takes a deep, calming breath and sizes him up in silence. Has he always been that tall? âJust ran into ya wife,â Harold gestures down the street with his thumb, bicep straining his sweater. âShe said your daughter might wanna come to theââÂ
âNo,â Joel interrupts him.Â
âNew yearâs party,â Harold mumbles.Â
Joel unclenches his jaw long enough to say, âKinda in the middleâa somethinâ.âÂ
âTold ya wife Iâd invite her,â Harold explains. âOnly take a sec.âÂ
âSheâs not dressed,â Joel blurts out. He stops short of clarifying that heâs not your father, either. He wants to be everything. He has to be every man you could ever need, and he cares less and less about who knows it.Â
âHeh,â a faint blush rises to Haroldâs face with a flash of his eyebrows. He rocks his plastic cup, making the half-melted ice jumble around.Â
âbye, Harold,â Joel closes the door in his face, then watches through the window as this asshole walks down the driveway and raises his cup to a passing car.Â
-
Joel steps back and cracks his neck in an unsuccessful attempt to release some tension, but itâs only getting worse. His whole body is wound up and ready to fight.  Â
He can't let you see him like this. Heâs supposed to be keeping it together.Â
He goes back to the kitchen and steadies his hand to pour half a cup of coffee. He holds the cup, watching the bubbles disappear.Â
The bath turns on upstairs, and Joel groans inwardly at the \ urge to charge up the stairs and ravish you. He has a vision of you sitting on the side of the tub, nude. You reach back and dangle your fingers into the water to test the temperature. Every muscle in his body wants to bust through that door and take you.Â
Another fantasy heâd never have the balls to act on. Right?Â
He puts down his coffee and takes off his glasses, resting them face-up on the kitchen island. He eyes the stairs, then shakes his head at himself. His hands brace on the edge of the island and he straightens his arms, triceps stretching his white tee. Leaning forward, he hangs his head and closes his eyes, calming himself. He stands there and breathes for a minute.Â
âKeep it together,â he whispers, but he can hardly hear himself over his inner caveman.
Kill.Â
Breed.Â
Kill.Â
âFuck,â he curses.
â-------
The water is loud enough that you donât hear Joelâs heavy steps thudding up the stairs. When the door bursts open, you jump. Your eyes widen as Joel shuts the door behind himself. He doesnât look at you yet, despite your nakedness. He braces one hand on the middle of the door and the other rests lightly on his hip. He looks down, still trying to conjure restraint.Â
All you can say is, âJoel?â Â
His muscular back flexes rhythmically under his slutty white tee as he catches his breath. After a few seconds, his head turns enough to look back at you. His eyes are dark.Â
âTell me to leave,â he commands, with his voice deep and breathy.Â
Your lips part, but you say nothing. You scan his body, lingering on his pumped up muscles.Â
He takes his hand off the door and turns to face you head on. His fingers twitch at his sides as his dark gaze roves your body. His head tilts forward, casting a shadow over his eyes as he looks at your face again. âTell me to leave, honey.â When you donât show any sign of answering, he steps toward the bathtub, chest heaving. His brows knit and he slightly shakes his head.
You sit there captivated by his energy. The drum in your neck beats harder as he gets closer. Your chest bubbles with excitement.Â
He looms over you, and youâre lifting your head up to look at him when his large hand seizes your arm and he pulls you to your feet. He wraps his other arm around you from behind and grabs between your legs. Grunting under the roar of the water, he manhandles you toward the double vanity.Â
He gropes your breasts, still holding you by the pussy. He abruptly pulls you tighter against him and the hard bulge in his sweatpants makes you throb.Â
After releasing your breasts, but not your pussy, he grabs your jaw and makes you look at him in the mirror.Â
âLast chance, sweetheart,â he murmurs in your ear. Â
You answer, âDo it or leave.â
He releases your jaw. âUggh,â he groans in painful desire. Emboldened by your encouragement, he slowly slides his flattened fingers along your slit, finding you wet. âThis is mine.â his stiffening cock nudges you through his sweatpants. When you donât reply, his voice gets firmer. âSay it.â
âItâs yours. Iâm yours.âÂ
âYeah,â he nods.Â
He bends you over the counterspace between your sinks. A sweep of your forearm sends an unplugged hair dryer, a bottle of lotion, and God knows what else into the sink you barely use.Â
Meanwhile, Joel has pulled down his sweats. He holds his hard cock, and his rocks onto the balls of his feet and back. He places a hand on your lower back. You tilt your hips as he lines himself up. His tip nudges into the right spot, pushing at your dripping hole. Then he grabs your hips and shoves into you with a sigh. You grunt at the sweet burn of his sudden intrusion.Â
âYeah,â he breathes. âgotta take it.âÂ
He only waits a second before withdrawing all but the tip, then slamming into you harder. He withdraws again. A bruising grip on your hips pulls you back as he slides into you, easier. Â
The grip of his hands eases up as he buries his cock in you faster. He opts to hold you down. With your breasts smashed against the marble, he grunts as he fucks it all out on you. Your insides bloom with arousal, gripping his cock, pulling at him for more, deeper. Your heart tingles with exhilaration.Â
His soft affection is a memory. A wild passion possesses him instead, evident with each thrust and grunt. This primal need has him desperate to own you from the inside out.Â
âUghh,â he groans, snapping his hips.Â
You twitch and moan, muffled by the loud water.Â
He grunts at the sound and fucks you harder.Â
He needs to pour all of him in there. You have to be his.Â
He slows down only to wrap a hand around your hair. His firm grip makes your scalp tingle. âLook at me,â he pants. As he begins to lift his fist, you push yourself up on your forearm and look up at the mirror with your breath fogging it. He drops your hair and pulls your upper body closer to his so you can see.Â
You brace hands on the counter and marvel at this spellbound wreck of yourself. Your movements arenât your own. Youâre controlled only by the rhythm of his cock and his hands. They make you feel small. Â
 âMe,â he commands, and your eyes snap to him.
Itâs the face of a man possessed. His eyes are wild and demanding. He grits his teeth. His neck vein bulges. His hair bounces with each unforgiving thrust. His hips move with a purpose -Â deeper. More. More of you. His. Fuck.Â
Itâs the first time you've met his wild man. You've seen glimpses in the way he lashes out in jealousy. And his intensity has always been evident. But you didn't imagine a whole feral form of him. The way his veins bulge, the power of his body. You never fully noticed the build of his chest or how a v muscle cuts through his tanline. This has all been there, all along. Every time heâs snapped at you, it's been this guy.Â
âfuck, Joel,â you breathe.Â
His mouth falls open with a silent moan. About to cum, he grabs your electric toothbrush and races to turn it on. He presses the smooth barrel of your toothbrush against you, with the bottom nearly touching his cock. Your lips part, and your eyelids fall.Â
He bottoms out hard, and his shaft twitches against your snug insides as youâre vibrated from the outside. He twitches bigger, harder, and sighs with relief as his seed spills into you. A moment later, another burst, and the warmth spreads in your depths.Â
He turns the vibration up. âGive it to me,â he demands. âCâmon, baby. Itâs mine.â He holds you tight with another deep thrust.Â
A massive throb of his cock sends you over the edge and releases another long rope. The climax seizes you, making you arch your back, grinding against the vibration. âI got ya,â he breathes, then moans with another shot of cum. Your nipples peak. A second later, your spasming pussy squeezes another burst out of him.Â
Thereâs more, and more, until warmth is trickling down your inner thigh and his arms are relaxing around you as you finish. When your body relaxes, he turns off the toothbrush and rolls it onto the counter unceremoniously. Â
-
As you catch your breath, Joel hugs you from behind, and his eyes soften. He buries his mouth in your neck, then kisses you on the head and glances at the mirror with a puppy dog look, with a gentle thrust deeper, making you spasm.Â
He growls quietly. God, heâs hot.Â
âYou okay?â He whispers above your ear.Â
âYeah,â you smile, looking down and tracing his knuckles.Â
The bathwater is almost overflowing. Joel slides out of you and pulls up his sweatpants. Cum trickles all the way down your leg to the tile floor. Always such a mess. With a softening tent in his pants he goes and turns the water off, then checks the temp. He reaches in to unplug the drain and lower the water level, then asks, âthat good?âÂ
âYeah.âÂ
He sits on the edge of the garden tub, scratching one side of his scruff and manspreading as you approach.
âHey. Câmere,â he says softly.Â
You stand between his legs completely naked, and he runs his hands down your sides, then pulls you into his lap, helping you straddle him. Â
âSure you're good?â He asks.Â
âYes,â you reassure him. âThat was amazing.â
He holds you in his arms, then adjusts your weight so his bulge is against your crotch, and your breath hitches. Youâve only come once. You could go for more, but it's not smart.Â
He buries his head in your chest, then looks up, and pulls you down for a kiss that starts soft. His tongue parts your lips then he's trying to drink you in. He pulls you tighter, kissing you hard, grinding you on him in a way that could have you quickly lose control. You're leaking all over him.Â
Your lips break away. You cup his cheek, give him a peck, and he asks, âtoo much?âÂ
You nod and whisper, âweâre playing with fire.âÂ
He lets you out of his lap, then holds out his hand and you use it for balance to get into the tub.Â
Your voices are hushed. âYou want a bath bomb or somethinâ?â
âYou know about bath bombs?â You tease him.Â
âEucalyptus all the way,â he answers, then crouches down to an under-sink cabinet.Â
âLinen closet,â you redirect him.Â
He picks a rose one and fumbles with the wrapping until he comes back and drops it in. He sits on the side of the tub and his thumb brushes your forehead.Â
âYou should go,â you gently urge him.Â
âYeah,â he agrees, and leans down for a last kiss. âCan I get ya anything else?âÂ
You shake your head no.
âsilicone Joel's water resistant,â he offers, pointing back toward your bedroom.Â
You crack a smile and tell him, âGet outta here. Now.â
------
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never ending night
bruce wayne x femwife!reader
word count: 1.7k | divider by @saradika | requests are open!
CW: pregnancy, pure fluff NOTES: hello hi iâm ailĂs and iâve been meaning to start a blog where i can post some one shots that iâve been thinking of as a way to motivate myself to finally write down my ideas so this is it. iâll be double posting my stuff on ao3 (which you can find in my bio) and will eventually make a masterlist as well as a navigation post with a list of fandoms/characters i write for. also, english isnât my first language.
It was close to three in the morning when Bruce finally joined you in bed after a long night of patrolling and fighting bottom of the barrel criminals all night. He showered in the bathroom on the first floor of the manor to avoid making too much noise and waking you up, but when he finally walked in your shared bedroom, you were already awake, sitting up against the headboard.
âDarling, what are you doing still up?â Bruce asked you as he reached his side of the bed.
The room was dark par for the moonlight filtering through the gap between the curtains, meaning your husband had yet to notice the state you were in.
âDick had a nightmare,â you answered, voice barely above a whisper due to how tired you were. âIt took me two hours to get him to fall back asleep and when I finally came back here, this little one started kickboxing me and keeping me awake for another hour,â you continued rubbing your round belly in hopes of soothing your baby to finally catch some sleep.
âIâm sorry I wasn't here to help,â Bruce apologised, planting a kiss on your temple as he held you close to his body.
âItâs alright, Gotham needs you,â you dismissed, not at all angry.
âStill, youâre six months pregnant. Youâre growing our child inside your body, you need all the rest you can get,â he softly argued. âI would've come home earlier but all the amateur criminals came out tonight.â
âBruce, itâs fine,â you brought your hand up to his cheek and he leaned his head into your touch. âYouâve already been cutting your patrols shorter since we found out about the baby. As long as you keep coming back home to us, alive, then Iâm not mad.â
Not knowing what to say â his gratefulness for having someone so accepting of his duty as Batman was almost overwhelming, even after all those years â Bruce kissed your palm while staring at you with the same look full of love that he has been sporting since the first time he met you six years ago.
âHowâd I get so lucky to fall in love with the most understanding and selfless person I know?â He asked while grabbing your hand on his cheek, wrapping his fingers around yours and squeezing them gently.
âNow thatâs a lie,â you rebutted, a loving smile on your lips, lowering your joined hands on the bed. âYouâre more selfless than I am. Youâre the most selfless man in the world.â
âLetâs not start this never ending argument again,â Bruce chuckled, now his turn to hold your face as he brought you in for a kiss.
You happily sighed against his lips, the feeling of home that overtook you every time you tasted them was a nice welcome in this interminable night. But the kiss was cut short as you felt your baby kick again and you let your head fall back as you groaned.
âSheâs still kicking?â Bruce asked you, he couldn't see the movements under your skin due to the darkness of the room and your hand on your belly.
âWe don't know it's a she,â you reminded him instead of answering. You had both decided to wait until the birth to know the gender.
âAnd Iâm telling you, I know it's a girl,â your husband repeated for what could be the hundredth time.
You also secretly hoped it was a girl, but Dick really wanted a little brother. Bruce and you were still in the process of warming him up to the idea of a little sister and it was slowly starting to work.
âAs long as she doesn't come in my room,â your eight year old son had said last week, with his arms crossed over his chest and a pout on his lips.
âI doubt sheâll be doing that for the first few years, chum,â Bruce reassured him, fighting off a slightly amused grin.
âAnd the baby will have its own room with its own toys,â you added.
âWill I still be able to play with the baby?â Dick asked after a moment, uncrossing his arms and a hopeful look filling up his blue eyes.
âOf course you will, bubs,â you said, your fingers threading through his black hair that fell over his forehead.
âBut only with her toys at first, some of yours are not suited for a baby,â Bruce pointed out, ever the overprotective father.
Bruce had lowered himself down under the blanket so he could be laying head levelled with your belly, his hand now replacing yours over the bump.
âHey trouble,â he whispered to your child and the baby kicked again, making him smile lovingly at the movement he felt under his hand. âYou shouldn't be awake this late at night, you know.â
âYou're one to talk,â you commented, tone almost reprimanding.
âShe doesn't know that,â Bruce looked up at you as he defended himself before his gaze fell back on your belly. âMommy is really tired,â he continued talking to your baby, his hand now rubbing soothingly over your round stomach, âand she needs her rest to do all the work so you can come out all healthy and beautiful. Well, you're definitely gonna be the most beautiful baby if you end up looking like your mother, but that's not the point.â
You smiled at the cheesy comment and your fingers found their place in Bruceâs hair, brushing through it and nails occasionally scratching his scalp.
âYour brother Dick can't wait for you to come around,â he carried on. âSaid he will teach you all sorts of acrobatic tricks once you know how to walk. And he asked Alfred if he could help paint the nursery when we finally decide on a colour.â
âAnd I keep telling you we should do soft green,â you argued.
âIâm not changing my mind from primrose pink,â he told you with a sly grin.
âThe room wonât be pink, even if itâs a girl. And thatâs final,â you firmly said. Your husband will not be winning this one argument, no sir.
Bruce sighed, rolling his eyes before focusing back on your belly. âI hope youâre not as stubborn as your mother,â he whispered to the baby, as if he was having a private conversation with them and that you werenât there. âDonât get me wrong, itâs one of the many reasons why I fell in love with her, but I wonât be able to say no to you even when I have to, so it would save me a lot of reprimanding from Mommy if youâre not as tenacious as her.â
You smiled to yourself as you continued listening to your husband talk to your unborn child as you threaded your fingers through his hair, enjoying the softness it had after a shower. Bruce usually gelled his hair to appear more professional when he was working in the day, and then it would get all mixed up with his sweat under his cowl when he was working as Batman. When he would come back to you after the day was over, you would refuse to touch his hair until he had showered, the texture of the gel and sweat too gross on your fingers for you to ignore.
As Bruce continued talking to your baby, his voice started lulling the two of you to sleep. The baby hadnât kicked in over almost ten minutes now, and the peace you had waited for so long to arrive made you aware of how heavy your eyelids were. You slowly lowered yourself down the bed, getting in a comfortable position with Bruceâs help where you could finally lay your head on your pillow and it didnât take long for sleep to catch up on you.
At the sound of your soft, barely audible snores, Bruce turned his head away from your bump to find you asleep with your free hand raised next to your head on your pillow, the other one still tangled in his hair.
He planted a soft kiss on the exposed skin of your belly, eyes closed as he took a moment to absorb the fact that a baby that was half you and half him would be joining your world in a little more than three months. Bruce wasn't known to cry, the only time you ever saw him cry was as you walked down the aisle at your wedding, but tonight, a lonesome tear rolled down his cheek and fell on your stomach, where your child was growing, because Bruce never believed he would ever get to experience again the amount of love he hadn't felt since he was eight years old.
As he observed you, sleeping soundly with his child coming to life inside you, after you comforted Dick back to sleep, Bruce, for a moment, felt overwhelmed by all the love in his life. When he became Batman, he crossed out the idea of ever having a family (other than Alfred), of settling down with someone he loved and who loved him back.
But somehow, the universe put you on his path, as a miracle or a guardian angel or simply as an anchor to life outside of Batman, he didn't know. You walked into his home, into his life, to remind him that he, Bruce Wayne, was also deserving of love, of family, of happiness. Then Dick came along, rather unexpectedly but still no less welcomed, and Bruce started entertaining the idea of having children with you. He definitely wasn't opposed to it, but it wasn't something he wanted to jump right into, especially with Dick having just entered your lives. You were both young, he in his early thirties and you in your late twenties, you could allow yourselves a couple of years just the three of you (four with Alfred) before expanding the family.
So it was rather shocking when two months after you and Bruce had officially adopted Dick that you found out you were pregnant. It both took you by surprise but after talking through it together, you couldn't be happier. And the two of you haven't stopped being happy about this new little addition ever since.
Bruce rose up from his position next to your belly, your limp hand fell from his head as he did so, and he laid on the bed next to you. He delicately kissed your forehead, then your nose before falling back on his pillow and whispered âI love youâ as he curled around your body, his hand resting on your belly as he fell asleep.
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