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kenslilove · 1 year ago

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᯽៰ ͘ ࣭⸰ 𖥔 ͙ࣳ Who’s Little Sister?!

preview. Draken swears he doesn’t only go for little sisters. But when you, Takemichi’s younger sister, walks into his shop….

ft. Ken “Draken” Ryuuguji x fem!reader

wc. 6.5k 🤡😅

W. NSFW 18+ MINORS DNI! bimbo reader, age gap (draken is late 20’s workin at the bike shop, you’re in early 20’s in collage) fem reader, corruption, dubcon (reader is intoxicated when they consent), virgin killer draken, oral (f!receiving), cream pie, a lil after care, praise and lots of it, drakens a scumbag but in a hot way🤪🤤 he comes around though, I promise 🤭

an. Hiiii pookies <33 this is a repost from my old account, but I’m reposting it here because I’m bringing this series back to life. This fic as well as part 2 hold such a special place in my heart, and now that my inspo is back and I’m ready to add to this little story, I hope you guys can join me on the ride hehe <33 I hope you enjoy! I love Kenny 💖 reblogs, comment, and constructive feedback are always welcome 🫶

“Draken, you have a thing for little sisters.”

“I do not.”

The look on everyone’s faces begs to differ.

First, it was Emma, and although the relationship didn’t work out between the two, she was still Mikey’s little sister.

“Can’t believe I ever let you near my sister, sister fucker.” Mikey mumbles into the lip of his beer, making the rest of the boys laugh out loud.

“Wait— who’s sister is he going for now?”

Takemichi’s comment had them all silencing instantly, eyes going to him as if he just asked the stupidest question on earth. Draken tried to use Takemichi’s idiocy to his advantage, waving away the conversation with a hand.

“No one—��

“Yours, obviously Takemichi.” Mitsuya blurted, much to Draken’s distaste, who dropped his forehead against the table with a groan.

“What?!”

Draken believed it wasn’t his fault, truly it couldn’t be. After the fallout with Emma, he swore to himself that the girls he went for would strictly be disconnected from his found family. Things were going well for him, so many beautiful girls passed by his shop, he even went on a date with a handful of them.

But he seemed to forget all of them when you walked into his shop.

There you were, bright-eyed, little miniskirt, lips pulled into the cutest pout he had ever seen. He was taken back when you finally met his gaze, pretty eyes widening a bit as you gasped.

“Ah! Found the right place! You’re Draken-Kun, right?”

The honorific had his heart racing, making him internally swear at himself from getting so excited just from something so simple.

“Uh yeah, that’s me.”

“Nii-chan said he’d be here, was supposed to meet him at ‘Draken-Kun’s shop’ buuuut—“ there was that cute pout again. “I don’t see him!”

He swallowed down a lump that seemed to block all his words. Why was his throat so dry? Why were you blinking up at him so perfectly?

“Uh— yeah, this is my shop but, who’s— who’s your brother?”

“Oh! Michi! Takemichi!” Your smile got even brighter when you said his name. Blinding almost.

Draken really hated the fact that it made his cock twitch.

“Fuck.” He murmured, bringing a hand up to rub the furrow from his brows. You tilted your head in confusion, reaching out and giving one of his biceps a squeeze.

“What was that, Draken-Kun?”

You sounded so concerned, so sorry for someone you didn’t even know. Draken quickly shook you off, before the simple touch of your soft palm made his cock harder than it already was. “No, nothing, it’s nothing. He’s— he’s upstairs.”

“Thank you~!” Sweet as sugar, you basically skipped towards the staircase, a hum in your voice when you called out to Takemichi.

And Draken watched until you disappeared. He watched the sway of your hips, watched your cute little heels clack up the stairs, and he certainly watched the way the swell of your ass became visible when you reached a certain step, along with an outline of lacy panties that were meant to stay hidden.

Fuuuuuuck—

Draken left the boys earlier than usual, hands buried deep in his pockets and a scowl on his face. Takemichi’s angry face was stuck in his head, along with his bitching that only made the boys tease him harder.

“You better not fuck my sister Draken! She’s too sweet for you bro!”

“Whatever—“ Draken mumbled to himself, his breath leaving him in a puff of air due to the cold that surrounded him. He was heading back to his apartment, wanting to slip into bed and hope that the boys would get so hammered tonight they’d forget everything discussed.

When his phone started to buzz he groaned again, ready to tell Mikey no he wasn’t coming back and to fuck off. What he wasn’t expecting to see was your contact name on his screen.

He really should have just let it go to voicemail, in fact, he should delete your number period. But, he picked it up on the very last ring, bringing the phone to his ear with hesitation.

“Hello?”

“D-Draken!!” You were whining— voice a bit slurred and muffled. Was there music in the background? Draken couldn’t really tell. He held his fingers to his other ear in an attempt to hear you better as you started to ramble.

“Can’t— I can’t hear you,” Draken said, trying his best to keep the annoyance from his tone as.. wait, were you crying?

“I-I’m at a stupid party dra! A-and Michi won’t answer his phone b-but I wanna go home! T-There’s this boy here a-and he won’t leave me alone and I-I’m too drunk—“

Draken felt himself tense up at the mention of some boy.

“Slow down…” He sounded calmer now, his apartment coming into view. “Send me your address, I’ll come to get you.”

“P-Please Draken, don’t wanna be here anymore, wanna go.”

It was the way you whined so desperately, so pretty. Draken knew this was bad, knew you didn’t even try to call him first.

But you still called him. Still trusted him enough.

“I’ll get you, sweetheart.” He was swearing at himself for the pet name that left his mouth without permission, but when you made the cutest little hum on the other end of the phone he quickly forgot his worries. “Send me the address right now while you’re on the phone. Do ya know how?”

He was already in the parking garage as your location pinged on his phone. He easily spotted his bike, hopping on as you continued to blubber into the phone.

“C-come now, promise you’ll come now dra—“

“I’m coming, promise. Stay where you are.”

He hung up and sped out of the garage before his right mind could catch up.

The address was some grungy trap house. The smell of cheap liquor and sex seemed to waft from the door as piles of drunk university kids spilled free. He waited until he saw you, finally, heels in hand and bare feet stepping into the damp grass to get to him.

He bit the inside of his cheek. You looked drunk, mascara already ran down your cheeks and little sniffles left you as you approached the bike. He tried to keep his eyes off the low cut of your tank top, but it was hard when you flung yourself at him, clinging to his waist with that pretty whine he loved hearing so much.

“D-Draaaaa~!” You carried the ‘A’, pressing your damp cheeks into the leather of his jacket, along with pressing your chest into his side. He brought his hand to your back, eyes rolling as he went to pat it.

Only to feel that you weren’t wearing a bra.

Keep it together, Ken.

“Get on, c'mon you’re gonna catch a cold.” He was quick to throw his jacket over you, slipping you in front of him cause honestly, he didn’t trust you to hold on tight enough to him in your drunk state.

So he had you sitting in front of him. He instructed you to put your hands on the handle bras, sensing your hesitation as you continued to sniffle and whimper. He pressed his chest into your back, lips close to your ear.

“It’s alright, I won’t let anything happen to you. Put 'em down.” He felt the way you shivered, and he hated the way it made him smirk. When you finally planted your hands down he placed his much larger hands over yours. They completely engulfed your palms, and he hoped that the little whine you let out now was because of that.

He reeved off quickly, trying to slow himself down but unable to control himself as he sped off towards his place with you in tow.

He ended up carrying you up the stairs to his apartment. He had originally tried to work your heels back on, but you were very much against that, sending him your best pout along with a little “nuh-uh! Don’t wanna!” And since he didn’t want you stepping on anything nasty he settled for picking you up instead.

You were on his back, arms slung over his shoulder as you babbled nonsense in his ear. Something about how you drank too much tequila and ‘but how can you say no to free shots?’ Draken just shook his head, gripping one of your thighs a bit tighter as he worked his apartment door open.

“Easy.” He spoke as he placed you on the ground. You giggled when your legs wobbled, quick to grip onto Draken’s arm yet again as you finally let your heels tumble to the ground.

“Takemichi would kill you if he knew you were this drunk,” Draken stated, trying to keep the amusement from his voice as you used the wall to help yourself towards the couch. You looked back at Draken and stuck your lip out in a pout, before sticking your tongue out.

“Michi isn’t my daddy, I do what I want~!”

Draken almost choked on his spit. Did you really have to talk like that— say that in the cutest little voice? He was grateful when you started your trek to the couch again, so he could fix the bulge that started to form in his joggers.

“Oh, yea? Well, you shouldn’t, you can barely stand. And who was this guy feeding you shots?” Just the thought of some loser college boy trying to get you drunk, preying on you, made his brows twitch, knuckles tensing as he made his way to meet you on the couch.

“Ugh, just some loser. Claims he’s in a gang dra, just like you and Michi used to— but he’s no bad boy, no no he’s a creep~!”

“Yea?” Draken just chuckled coldly, fetching you a water bottle from the fridge. “Must be a real classy group of delinquents if they’re targeting girls like that—“

His voice got caught again when he finally saw you on his couch.

You had worked his jacket off you, sprawled yourself out on the cushions without a care in the world. The little tube skirt you were wearing was hiked up dangerously high, leaving little to the imagination as you turned your face away from the cushions, looking up at Draken.

And you had the audacity to giggle, “You’re couch s’comfy dra~”

one of your legs threatened to topple right off the couch, but if that happened, well it would certainly make the wimpy material hike all the way up.

Draken caught your knee before it had the chance, only making you giggle more. His heart was pounding against his rib cage, blood pumping dangerously fast to his crotch as he shot you a disappointed look.

“Be careful.” He gritted out through clenched teeth, and when you looked at him, eyes wide and glossy…

Draken had to have more willpower than this, didn’t he?

“D-Don’t be mean t’me” You were whining again, rolling over and pressing your face into the couch. Your leg slipped from his touch, and he thought maybe he’d be in the clear now.

But when you curled up, the skirt he put too much faith in hiked up, letting the swell of your ass free. Draken wanted to turn away, or at least throw a pillow at you, but he couldn’t seem to rip his eyes away from your pretty, soft skin.

You were still mumbling, something about him bossing you around. But Draken finally shook himself from the dangerous trance he was in, clicking his tongue and grabbing at your shoulder.

“Up, cmon, you’re going to sleep.”

“Don’t wanna.” You spoke, voice nothing bratty as you tried to slip from his grasp. Draken wasn’t having any of it, not when he was only seconds from snapping.

“Too bad. Get up. You need water and sleep.”

“Nooo~!” You looked back at him, perfect lips pouting and this cute sense of defiance in your gaze that still swam with unclarity.

Draken wasn’t sure what it was that finally made him snap. Maybe it was the way you looked at him, maybe it was the brattiness that he knew he could work outta you, maybe it was how your ass now pressed into his thighs.

But whatever it was, it didn't matter. He was pressing his lips to yours, swallowing the little shocked gasp you pushed against his lips. He only pulled away when his lips began to pulse, a shaking breath puffing out against your trembling lower lip.

He kept his eyes glued to yours as his thumb swiped at the drool that lingered on your lip, another click leaving his tongue.

“Messy…” he murmured, more to himself than to you as you batted your lashes up at him, leaned into his touch as if on instinct.

Draken shoulda stopped. This would be the perfect time to back off, let you sleep off the alcohol on his couch and call Takemichi in the morning. Hell, you’re so drunk you probably wouldn’t even remember this little kiss.

But then you spoke.

“D-Dra.. y-your lips are reaaaal soft.”

“Fuck.” He swore for real this time, ignoring any sense as he pressed his lips to yours once again. It was so cute how hesitant you were, fingers trembling softly as they ran through his black ponytail. He had no problem slipping his hands beneath you, easing you up and into his lap.

“Fuck.” He mumbled it into your open mouth this time, feeling your warm little cunt pressing into his crotch. The panties you wore did little to conceal your sex, and it didn’t help that you were squirming in his lap, hips twitching into him and nails digging along his shoulders.

He had to pull back again, his palms planted firmly on your hips to keep you still. “Can’t— fuck. You can’t squirm like that baby.” He hated how desperate he already sounded, voice going down an octave and raspier than usual.

You bit the tip of your nail, face heating up along with the rest of your body as you slowly raised your gaze to meet Draken’s. “C-Can’t help it, I’ve never—“

Draken brows shot up, panic flooding his system. He did not want to hear you say you’d never kiss a guy before.

“Never sat in someone’s lap like this…” The relief washed over him, making his shoulders slump again. There was this swelling feeling in his chest, one that he didn’t exactly love, but he couldn’t stop it from coming.

It was the same feeling he got when he took Emma’s virginity.

“Oh, yea…? What else haven’t you done?” He was curious now, big hands rubbing reassuring circles into your hips. The skirt you were wearing before was useless now, bunched up at your hips and showing off the cute panties you wore. He tried not to stare as you tried to stutter out your words.

But Draken knew now, he was much weaker than he originally thought.

“I-I’ve kissed a guy! Obviously!! B-But…” There you were, pouting again. But the more Draken massaged at your hips, the more your whines started to sound like meek little mewls. “I-I just— I haven’t really done anything other than like.. touching I guess..”

He really hoped that you didn’t feel his cock twitching right under you.

Draken hummed in acknowledgement, bringing his face close to yours as soon as you looked down into your lap. “Just touching, yea? Have you ever held a dick before, sweetheart?”

“N-no!” He shouldn’t be teasing you like this, but he couldn’t help himself. His question just made you squirm again, and he enjoyed the friction just a little longer than he should have before he was gripping your hips again, giving you a more stern glance.

“I said, no squirming…” The corner of his lip twitched as you whimpered at him, eyes getting glassy all over again.

“M’sorry…” you spoke back through pouting lips, still having trouble meeting his gaze as your fiddled with the collar of his shirt.

Draken knew what he was doing was wrong, could hear the voices of his buddies taunting and teasing, claiming just how right they were about him. But being this close to you, seeing just how badly you wanted to hump against him, even if you were drunk.

How the hell was he supposed to let this opportunity go?

“Well… I don’t wanna spook you, angel. If ya haven’t done anything, I’ll just put you to bed, alright—“

“N-no!” Hook, line, and sinker.

“No?” Draken mused, his hands finally pulling you just a bit closer, his fingertips teasing over the flesh of your ass. You shook your head, clinging onto him a bit tighter.

“N-No I— I want…” your words trailed off, your own nerves getting the better of you.

Cute. It was so cute how words could get you flustered when you were already sitting in his lap, skirt pulled up and nothing but a little pair of panties keeping you away from him.

“Cmon. Use your words baby, what do you want.” He spoke to you with that same level of authority, watching the way your eyes slowly made their back up to his own.

“I-I want you to.. to teach me.”

He was smirking now, smug as ever. But it didn’t matter.

He had you right where he wanted you.

His lips were back on yours before you could continue to stutter, but this time he was lifting you up. He gripped your ass, urging your legs to cling to his waist as he carried you towards the bedroom.

Draken placed you onto the mattress with ease, working himself between your thighs that already opened up to welcome him. He was pleased to see that when he pulled away from the kiss this time you were panting, lips a little swollen and chest heaving as you looked up at him.

Already so curious, so desperate for whatever he was willing to offer you.

“I’ll teach you, baby.” Draken was speaking into your skin, planting kisses along your cheeks, down the column of your neck. He felt your pulses with his lips, the steady beat only picking up in pace when he looked up at you through hooded eyes. “But, you have to listen, you’ll be a good girl for me, won’t you?”

He already knew your answer, but he wanted to hear you say it.

“Y-Yes, I’ll be a good girl Dra…” you managed to whimper, voice slipping into a whine when his lips pushed over the flimsy strap of your tank top, dragging it down over your shoulder.

“Ken.” He laughed when you gave him this confused look. So naive, so very dumb.

But so very willing.

“Want you to call me Ken, can ya do that baby?”

When you realized what he was asking you let out a little “oh” and a nod, which pleased him to no end. His hand dragged your other strap down, leaving just a few inches left of coverage over your chest. It was the perfect place for him to pause, look you over just once more.

“Ask one more time for me baby, nice and pretty now.” This was his way of getting you to beg, and boy did you play into his hand so easily.

“P-Please Ken, please teach me, please—“

His will had broken long ago, the sweet sounds of your pleas, the tears that made your lashes clump. All of it had broken him down long before. His lips were back on your chest, one rough hand finally freeing your breasts from the confines of the little tank top you wore. He groaned as he squeezed each mound in his palms, the gasp you let put making his head feel light.

“Such pretty tits….” He murmured, his eyes narrowed as he took in the sight of your pretty nipples, which quickly peddled up as he smoothed his thumb over the bud. He poked his tongue out, curiosity getting the best of him as he swiped the wet muscle over your left nipple.

“O-Oh!--” Cute. He wanted to hear that little squeak on repeat, wrapping his lips around your nipple while he continued to massage the other. Your fingers quickly clung to his black hair, running through the soft locks before pulling him flush to your skin.

“F-Feels good Ken! Mhm! So good– I– want!!” Your words tumbled off your tongue mindlessly, mewls and whimpers getting pushed out as Draken released you with a pop. He licked his lips at your swollen bud, admiring the little indents his teeth had made before your tug on his hair snapped him back to reality.

“Watch it.” He warned, squeezing your breast hard enough to make you whimper. “Lemme take my time with you, Angel.”

“B-But–” You didn’t even know what you were pleading for, brain foggy as Drken moved on from your tits, large hands travelling to the hem of your skirt. The skirt was pulled from your legs with a few simple tugs, leaving you in nothing but a pair of dainty panties.

A pair that had a wet patch just waiting to be removed.

“You’re so cute…” Draken breathed out, his hands smoothing over your tummy, big enough to almost engulf your waist. Each touch of his fingertips on your skin left a tingling sensation, skin ablaze as you whimpered at him again, hips bucking off the mattress as he cupped your cunt.

“Please Ken…” You were gripping the sheets as he fiddled with the hem of your panties. Hooking his index finger under the material only to let it snap back against your sensitive skin. You could have cried from that, reaching for him.

Only for him to easily scoop up both wrists in one hand, pinning them back above your head. Although his eyes were nothing but stern, his lips were holding back a smirk, showing just how amused he was with how needy you became so quickly.

Although you didn’t notice, how could you when your only thought was him, his hands, his everything?

“Keep your hands up here, understood?” When he got a little whine and a nod he hummed in approval, pressing a feather-light kiss to your nipple. “Gunna teach ya how to feel good, but you can’t get in my way–”

“M’sorry, sorry Ken, won’t, please–” He let you babble on about apologize, easing your thighs open a little further. Once your fingers curled into the sheets above your head again he let go of your wrists, all focus drawn back to the little wet spot.

He was shameless as he pressed his nose into it, your scent instantly making him groan, pulling you closer to his face by the hips. He went as far as to nuzzle your covered pussy, pressing a kiss to where your clit was hiding under the fabric. You were trembling under his actions, each one making you whimper and whine for more.

“Smells sweet as candy, bet ya taste like it too, don’t ya?” There was a slur in his voice as his teeth took hold of the flimsy fabric, and rather than dragging it down your thigh he tore it off with one good tug.

You could have come right there, seeing the ruined pieces of your underwear dangling from his lips, the feral look in his eyes as he was finally met with the sight of your swollen pussy, covered in your own slick and making it glisten in the dim lighting.

He used two fingers to spread your lower lips apart, pupils only blowing out larger at the sight of your desperate little hole clenching at the air.

Beckoning him.

“First, you’re gonna come on my lips.” His voice was raspy, but it was enough to catch your attention, make you look at him with glossy eyes and a nod. “Gunna use my fingers too since I gotta work this pretty pussy open.”

“Kay ken, mhm… wanna feel you.” You muttered, the term pretty pussy making you flutter around nothing yet again. He just knew praise would make your brain turn off.

He licked one long stripe up your pussy, gathering the slick there. The action already had both of your groaning, a form hand on your hip keeping you pressed into the mattress as he let his tongue toy and flick at your pulsing clit.

“Oh! Yes–!” Every flick, every suck, every slurp of his tongue had you gasping, eyes squeezing out the pleasurable tears. It was like nothing you’d ever felt but you just needed more, needed to relieve that knot that was already so tight in your belly as Draken ate your pussy like it was his last meal.

You were just so sweet, just like he knew you would be, your arousal gushing onto his chin each time he kissed your clit. He knew you were wet enough by now, but he still spat a glob of saliva over your hole before slipping a finger into you.

Your mouth hung open in a little “o” as he pumped his thick finger in and out, and he couldn’t help but bite his lip at just how hard you squeezed his single finger.

Couldn’t help but think how tight you’d be when he finally bullied his cock into you.

“You’re so tight baby… gunna use another finger.” As much as he hated pulling his lips away from your pussy, he just had to see what your face looked like when he slid a second finger into you, and it did not disappoint.

You bit your already swollen lip, whimpering and attempting to buck away had it not been for the grasp on your hip. “S’too much, too much Ken–!”

“It’s just my fingers princess, you can take it…’ He was trying too hard to hold back his smirk, cooing praise as his fingers stretched out your gummy walls, in search of that one spot he knew would…

The tip of his index finally grazed the little lump, your eyes shooting open and your back arching from the sudden jolt of pleasure.

“There it is…” Draken hummed, massaging into the spot, making your body tremble. “This is your sweet spot, angel, feels so good, doesn't it?”

You nod, words lost to you as drool dribbles freely from your open mouth. It made him grin, adrenaline pumping through him as your pussy milked his fingers just like it would milk his cock… just as soon as he had a taste.

“C’mon baby girl, come f’me, yea? It’s gonna feel so good.” Draken’s words are a promise as he locks his lips back onto your clit. He’s suckling the precious bud, all the while his fingers massage your g-spot. He knows you’re overwhelmed, can tell by the way you jolt and cry.

But he needs to taste you.

You gasp as heat washes over you, the knot in your stomach snapping apart slowly. It’s the subtle graze of Draken’s teeth against your clit that sets you over, a cry of his name with a mix of slur’s spilling from your lips as you gush on his fingers.

Draken groans, you sounded so much better than he imagined coming undone. His fingers were pulled free quickly just so his lips could latch onto your cunt, lewdly slurping up your arousal even as your hips tried to desperately wiggle away.

“Fuckkkkk….” Draken groans as he finally lifts his lips from your swollen lower lips, the sight of his eyes narrowed and his chin covered in your arousal making your face heat up, embarrassment making you bring your hands over your face.

He chuckles, hovering back over you to press wet kisses along your arms. “Why are you hiding from me baby? Did so good f’me, felt good didn’t it?” His free hand petting your pussy, smearing your arousal over your skin and only further making a mess of your inner thighs.

You look at him through your fingers, slowly pulling your hands away when you catch sight of his handsome smile. You nod at him, hips bucking into his palm despite the way your clit tingles. “Mhm… felt good Ken, really good.”

“Good. Wanna feel better?” He asks, sitting up on his hunches. He grips the back of his shirt, easily pulling his shirt up and over his head, and the sight of his abs as you mewling for more. Your hands finally leave the sheets just to touch him, trembling fingertips smoothing over his abs with glossy eyes. He was so… so pretty? You had always thought so, but never acted on it, of course…

When his thumb smooths over your lip to collect the drool that leaks there you snap from your trance, his devious smirk making you whine. “You’re so cute.” He murmured, the dumb little look in your gaze only making his cock twitch harder.

So cute and so dumb, Draken was truly the luckiest man on earth tonight.

His cock was painfully hard when he finally pulled himself free, leaking a generous amount of pre that he used to slick up his length. His smirk grew when he caught you staring again, eyes wide and biting down so hard on your lower lip.

He held a hand out for you, helping you sit up a bit. He took your hand and placed your much smaller one on his cock, and the sight alone made him groan low in his throat.

Your fingers just looked so small as they wrapped around his length, your thumb rubbing along one of his veins with so much curiosity. You squeezed him and he hissed, instantly making your hand go slack around him.

“Not so tight angel.”

“M’sorry Ken…” You licked your lips, figuring out how much pressure to apply as you worked your palm up and down his shaft. Each time you almost reached the top his thick mushroom head would flush an even brighter pink, his pre dribbling from his tip and onto your fingers. Draken watches with wide eyes as you brought your hand to your lips, licking away his arousal with a pretty little sound.

Fuck.

He took hold of your hips again, lifting them so he could slide one of his pillows under your lower back. This angle had your hips sticking up a bit, your legs perched over his calves as he sat between your thighs. “Lay back” He instructed, and you didn’t pause with his instruction, laying back into his pillows while keeping your eyes glued to his cock.

“It’s gonna sting.” He warned, knowing that sting was probably an understatement as he laid his cock over your cunt, biting his lip to see that his tip almost reached your belly button.

“M’ready.” and you were, you wanted to be, your curiosity was getting the better of you, feeling his length rub over your cunt to get more slicked up, each time his tip caught your clit made you more impatient, reaching for his free hand and squeezing it tightly.

Draken positioned himself at your opening, greedy little hole sucking in his tip with minimal effort. It’s when the girth hit that you finally gasped, your rings of muscles attempting to make way for Draken’s cock. He shushed you with gentle coos squeezing your hand back and pressing warm kisses along your tear-stained face.

“Relax for me, little love…” He murmured against your skin, two fingers rubbing away at your clit. Draken was so tense and he held himself back, every muscle in his body rippling as he bullied his cock into your warm gummy walls.

“I-I–” You were stammering, chest shaking as you sucked in a breath. He had to be almost all the way in, right? When you saw only half of his cock had been pushed in you cried out a little, head shaking.

“S’not, not gonna fit~!” You sobbed, eyes watery as your legs trembled around him. He pressed a kiss to your lips this time, his finger never ceasing the slow circles on your bud to help break you open for him.

“It’ll fit sweetheart, promise, and it’s gonna feel so good… need ya to relax, can ya do that.” He looked at you,, expectantly, and who were you to say no? Not that you wanted to, considering your pussy was still milking away at what fit. You nodded, giving his hand another squeeze as reassurance.

Draken sucked in a breath of his own, and with one good jerk of his hips, his cock bullied itself all the way in, knocking up against your cervix and making you cry out for him. His fingers pinched your clit, the squeeze of your walls making his eyes roll back.

“Fuck– Jesus Christ, that’s it baby, my fucking god, you feel so good.” His own grunts drowned out your whines, which his delight soon turned to little moans as he kept working at your clit, your pussy holding him snuggly and almost refusing to let up.

It was the subtle bulge on your tummy, the outline of his cock sitting between your plush walls that really made him snap. He started thrusting, hips creating a steady pace that had his balls tapping up against your ass with each thrust. Your lips hung open in a silent cry, each pull and push of his hips making your walls squeeze even tighter. You were already too dumbed out to realize that Draken had placed the pillows beneath you because each time he was flush against you his cock head sat snuggly against your sweet spot, making your vision blur with each thrust.

“Fuck, baby, fuck. Got such a tight cunt.” He growled out through clenched teeth, the ring of arousal that already formed at the base of his cock making his own mouth water. You squeezed him like a vice, somehow tightening up even more each time he praised you, each time his fingers flicked your clit. Draken usually held pride at the fact that he could last in bed, holding out for the sake of his lovers.

But you? He just had to fill you up quick, had to see the dumb little look in your eyes when he pumped you full of cum.

Hit thrusts started to shake your whole body, breasts bouncing each time his hips smacked into your ass. His lips captured yours in a sloppy kiss, his tongue easily overpowering yours as your teeth clashed and drool fell down your chin. Your nails found purchase on his shoulders, leaving crescent-shaped moons that had him groaning into your mouth.

“Milkin my cock like a good little girl, such a good girl.” He noticed your eyes rolling back, your body trembles ceasing only for a few moments as your high washes over you unexpectedly. Your vision went white when you came this time, the cry of his name making him hiss.

It was almost painful, the grip your pussy had on his cock as you gushed around him. The mess was beautiful, soaking your inner thighs and his pelvis, making a squelching sound each time he continued to pump into you.

“Fuckin came all over my cock?” he knew your answer but wanted to hear your sob out a pathetic little “yes” as he braces his arms on either side of your head. He knew better than this, knew that fucking into you this roughly, this sloppily could scare you off.

But your pussy was asking for it, leaving his cock drenched as he continued to knock up against your cervix, ground his hips so his dick massaged your g-spot. It didn’t take long for him to finish, his dick pulsing before spilling load after hot load into your walls.

You shivered at the feeling, body twitching and legs slowly loosening around him as his thrusts started to slow down. A bead of sweat fell from his brow and onto your face, making you whimper softly.

Draken was in a daze as he watched his cock slowly slip in and out of you. By the time he was all the way out, his length was covered in a shiny layer of arousal, milky and glistening. He sighed, a little flutter going off in his chest as your battered pussy clenched at nothing, pushing out a bead of his cum.

“K-Ken~” he knew he shouldn’t have pushed it back in with a finger, knew that was irresponsible and greedy of him, but the action was done before he could really think it over, his lips smoothing over yours to sooth your cries.

“M’right here babygirl. Did so good for me, m’so proud of you.” He rolled to his side, letting you cling and tremble against him as you came back down to earth. He had no problem petting your sweat-slicked hair, shushing you with little kisses. “You’re okay, such a good girl.”

If it meant you’d come back to him. And he was certain after this, you’d be crawling at his feet.

He didn’t bother leaving you, you were clinging onto him too tightly. So instead he just scooped you up, brought you to the bathroom. He was so gentle when he placed you on the toilet, and even though you were fussing about going in front of him, he was adamant about it as he washed his face.

“I can’t pee in front of you, Ken!”

“I’m not even paying attention, you need to try, it’s good for you, so you don’t get any infections.”

“What do you mean, an infection?!” He chuckled, of course, you knew nothing about that.

Once he had you calm again, face and legs clean from a washcloth he helped you slip into one of his old sweaters and a pair of boxers. You were basically sleepwalking back to his bed, mumbling something incoherent as you cuddled into his pillow.

“The bed’s all yours…” He spoke with a smirk, pressing a little kiss to your temple as he pulled the covers up to your shoulders. You were out in seconds, and Draken took your precious little snores as his cue to get up and stretch a bit, check his phone and grab water for you in case you woke up with a hangover.

It was 4 am, but what made his brows raise was the number of messages in the group chat. He clicked on it, ready for a good laugh. But instead, his stomach dropped.

Takemichi: Draken! Why is my sister at your place?!

Mitsuya: No fucking way…

Baji: Draken, you dog. 🐶

Chifuyu: How do you know she’s there?

Takemichi: I have her location! I was supposed to pick her up at some party but it says she is at Drakens !!

Takemichi: Draken I’ll beat your ass–

Baji: I’ll do it for ya buddy. 💪🏼

Mitsuya: ur done for dude

Mikey: dirty dirty kenchin ///:

Chifuyu: 💀💀

Kazutora: man strikes again 🫣

Pa-Chin: literally a sister fucker dawg

Mitsuya: ur never seeing my sisters again 🫡

Takemichi: they’re not fucking! DRAKEN YOU BETTER NOT BE FUCKING HER–

He was never gonna hear the end of it.

Property of Kenslilove ™️ do not copy, repost or bring onto any other platform!!

Member of: @enchantedforest-network @ghostqueue

#tokyo revengers fanfiction #tr fanfic #tr fanfiction #tokyo rev smut #tokyo rev x reader #ken ryuuguji #tr draken #ken ryuuguji x reader #ken ryuuguji smut #draken smut #draken x reader #draken x you #draken x y/n #ken ryuuguji x you #tokyo rev x you #tr smut

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jaylaxies · 2 years ago

Text

ROMAN HOLIDAY

PAIRING: jake x fem!reader

GENRE/CW: smut, slight fluff, protected and unprotected sex, (don’t be silly, wrap your willy!), cunnilingus, marking, creampie, mentions of petnames (princess, baby, darling, daddy), lots of kissing and brief mentions of smoking, stealing, running away from cops, drugs, somnophilia (consensual), etc.

WC: 10k words

SYNOPSIS: visiting your grandma’s place was more or less your entire plan for your summer vacations and only break you get before your university starts, although, meeting your neighbour, bickering with him and clutching his hand while running away from cops wasn’t in your bucket list.

PLAYLIST: welcome to wonderland by anson seabra, movement by hozier, if you let me by alina baraz, how to love by jen z, roman holiday by halsey.

WARNING: 18+ content, minors dni

A/N: hihi, my sweetest angels <3 i'm finally here with a jake fic which was long due! i hope you guys like it <33 all likes, comments, reblogs and feedbacks are highly appreciated :D loveyou all <3

Bagging a window seat for a day-long journey sure is a blessing, peculiarly when you have to stay sitting at your spot in a train for a sum of six hours. Nestled in your seat, you sit straighter when the scenic view of the sea water meeting the sky graces your eyes—which you capture on your phone’s camera with a soft smile.

It felt as if it had been ages since you got out of your room, where you used to be cooped up during the entirety of your day, studying for your final year of school.

Your parents were concerned. They were highly proud of you for achieving top honours, yes, but it was about time you went out and cherished your life a little before you got winded up in the stress of University yet again, which was to start in one month.

And what’s a better place to spend your vacations at if not at your granny’s home?

It was a few minutes past six when you finally reached your desired destination, dragging your luggage behind you as a swish of cold breeze hit you. It looked straight out of a movie with how the train station was lit up by old-fashioned lamps which radiated warmth just by glancing towards them.

You hugged your cardigan tighter, walking out to find the taxi stand just outside the exit area of the station, pulling out your phone to show the driver the address you’d be meaning to go to. He was a kind man, helping you put your luggage into the trunk of his taxi. Your curious eyes looked out, observing how much the town had changed over the years.

You were seven when you last visited her hometown. Ever since then, your grandma used to be the one who visited you in the city, at your place, however she did not wish to leave her town and move in with your family. You could see why she chose to stay here—the serene view, the freshness in the air, the tranquil surroundings, it made the corner of your lips curl up into a smile.

It only got wider once the driver stopped his taxi in front of your grandma’s house. It was exactly how you had remembered it to be—a small but two story house with a big veranda which was lit up by fairy lights on the big bushes. The back door connected the path towards the small pool and then yet another door linked the beach from your backyard.

Your grandma stood by the door with the fondest smile gracing her ever so beautiful face, a few grey strands fell on her face and you couldn’t help but get out of the taxi and run towards her, capturing her in an embrace. A hearty chuckle filled the air, the scent of your favourite cookies encapsulated you, making you wonder if she had baked a batch just for you as you snuggled further, her hand patting your head exactly the way she used to do ever since you were a kid.

“I missed you, grandma.” Your expression said it all, and she looked more than happy to usher you in the house, saying how chilly the night was and you made sure to pay the driver, thanking him for his service as you dragged the luggage in.

A wave of nostalgia hit you as your eyes wandered off to observe each corner, but your grandma didn’t hear any of it, making sure her granddaughter was well fed and rested after the long journey.

She spent a good while telling you embarrassing stories of your father during dinner, which you listened to with delight, sharing your own stories with zeal before you climbed up the stairs, opening the door to the room you used to use each time you stayed over as a child.

It didn’t change, the bed was still too big for you, the windows were spotless as if it had been cleaned frequently and the scent of old books paired with a tinge of vanilla filled your senses. Your body felt calm and you couldn’t remember the last time you had felt this way.

Calling your parents, you updated them by telling you had reached safely as you walked in the balcony, feeling comfortable in a sweatshirt and cotton shorts. The night sky resembled a velvet blanket full of glistening stars.

However, a figure clad in all black captured your attention. It was a bit beyond one in the morning, which is why it was unsettling to see someone walk in such dim lights. The stranger made his way towards your neighbouring house, making you wonder if he lived there.

Shrugging, you sighed. Sitting at one place for hours does tire your body, so you proceed to finally get into your cozy bed, setting an alarm before your grandma comes in to check if you require anything.

“Sweet dreams my little peanut,” your grandma smiled, closing the door behind you as you replied back with a gentle voice.

“Sweet dreams, Gigi!” It was a nickname you used for her, she found it lovely.

The placid atmosphere and the distant sound of waves acted as a catalyst to your sleep, and you slept soundly, not knowing that the calmness was just a start to your inevitable venture—something no one could have prepared you for.

You found yourself walking alongside your Gigi to visit the lady next door in the afternoon. She was a kind soul—as stated by your grandma, not to mention that she treated her like her own family, making sure to provide help whenever she could and that’s the reason why you were going to meet her.

It wasn’t the first time; apparently you used to play in their veranda a lot as a child, which again, you didn’t remember. However, when the lady—Mrs. Sim, opened the door, the memories came rushing back to you. She was jolly, almost as if she was waiting for your arrival and soon, you were engulfed into a sweet hug.

She called out your name in sheer excitement, leaning back to take a good look at your face, which sported a silly smile due to embarrassment.

“Aw, love. You’ve grown into such a pretty young lady,” she gushed, ushering you both inside and into the living room area.

“And you don’t look a day over twenty, Mrs. Sim,” you replied, not lying considering how youthful she appeared to be.

Her smile only widened at your comment, “now, another word and I’ll be floating in the clouds,” she said, making you chuckle as you got engaged in a conversation, sipping on the cranberry juice which Mrs. Sim had so kindly offered you.

It was decided that you’d be having lunch together, and you tried your best to help the two women in the kitchen but you were soon shoved out, saying you don’t have to do a thing and rest—that’s the purpose of your vacations.

Which made you sit down and use your phone, scrolling through random apps and replying to all the texts.

“Y/n!” Soon, you were called into the kitchen, and you poked your head in with a smile.

��Yes, Gigi?”

“Oh, peanut, can you please go upstairs and call Jake for lunch? It’s almost done.” She asked.

You tilted your head in confusion, mind wandering back to the guy you had seen last night and you came to the conclusion that Jake might be Mrs. Sim’s son.

You nodded, heading up the wooden staircase. Would you have to introduce yourself to him? Would it get awkward? You had no clue.

Knocking on the door twice, you took a step back and patiently waited for the door to open and so, you tried again to no avail. You wondered if he had his headphones on, which left you with no choice but to open the door, peeking in slightly only to find the room empty.

“Oh,” you let out, closing the door behind you for the sake of privacy.

“He’s not in his room,” you informed Mrs. Sim.

She sighed, serving a good portion of food for all of you, “I could have sworn he didn’t go out,” she shook her head as you three sat down. You let the elders start eating first and only then you picked up your chopsticks to do the same.

“I haven’t seen him in a while, what’s the tough guy up to?” Your Gigi asked.

“He’s busy enrolling himself into universities,” Mrs. Sim says, a sad smile taking over her face, “he says he doesn’t want to leave me and is aiming for nearby universities.”

“My my, isn’t he a darling boy?” Your grandma praised while you chewed on your food, which melted right in your mouth, silently eating while hearing them converse.

It didn’t take long for your grandma to ask them to come over for dinner the very next day, “it’s only fair that I cook for you too,” she argued when Mrs. Sim told her that she shouldn’t bother.

This time, your grandma let you help with the cooking, and of course, you were sent to invite the Sims over for dinner. You hugged your white cardigan close to your body—the nights tend to get chilly. Walking over to the neighbouring home, you rang the bell and were greeted with the sight of Mrs. Sim, who actually dressed up for the little dinner party.

“Oh, darling. Can you please call Jake down for dinner too?” She asked you as she was busy tidying up her own kitchen.

“Of course,” you smiled.

It was the second time you were heading up the stairs. This time, you were sure you’d be meeting the said boy. You found yourself standing right in front of his room yet again, gulping down your nervousness. It wasn’t as if you weren’t used to introducing yourself to new people, school made sure you knew how to do that, however, your nerves were acting up.

With a deep breath, you knocked on the door, twice—just like the last time. The difference, however, was that the door was opened in this instance.

The scent of an intoxicating blend of masculinity and sophistication announced his presence, undertones of musk and wood laced up, providing him a complex aura altogether.

A tall guy with parted black hair leaned against the doorframe, eyebrow perfectly raised in question, his arms folded as his honey brown eyes with the slightest speckles of gold stared your way, his plump lips soon curling up into what seemed to be an assortment of a smile and a smirk.

“You must be Y/n,” he stated, standing up straight, which caused his muscles to flex enough to the point it was visible in his white button up.

You licked your lips unknowingly, moistening them up before you nodded, extending your hand for him to shake, “pleasure meeting you, Jake.”

His eyes travelled down from your face to your hand, a low chuckle left his mouth, him opening the door and stepping out, coming closer to you as he grabbed your smaller hand in his bigger, warmer ones in a firm handshake.

“I can see why my mom can’t stop talking about you,” he said, making you tilt your head in question, eyes never leaving his face which was captivating.

“And why is that so?” You asked, stepping back slightly as he leaned in to whisper in your ear.

“Because you seem to be a good girl,” he breathed, making you go still as he leaned back with the same smirk, leaving you behind, walking down the stairs.

Now, you didn’t expect the situation to turn out this way, yet you knew that talking to him further would only cause your head to hurt.

What even made him think about you being a good girl?

Is it your outfit? Plain, loose jeans paired with a pink top and cardigan. It’s basic enough not to be categorized so easily.

You scoff to yourself, already hating the situation as you walk downstairs, only to find Jake with a smile that genuinely looked sweet while he talked to his mother, helping her lock the door.

“I see you met Jaeyun,” she smiled, and you nodded, sitting alongside her, not sparing a glance at the said boy as you didn’t even know his real name was Jaeyun.

The table was set for four, which made you sit right across from Jake, who’s demeanour had changed as he complimented your granny, who laughed at his sweetness.

“Here, have some more,” he says, serving another portion to your grandma, who cooed at his kind conduct at the table.

He made sure to be on his best behaviour, only in front of others but when his gaze fell towards you, a bored expression overtook his features, which no one paid attention to.

You rolled your eyes. It hadn’t even been a whole day since you met and yet the boy made you dread his presence. He wasn’t being straight up rude per se, however his actions weren’t subtle either just like how he completely ignored your existence during the entirety of the dinner.

He offered to clean up, which included him having to clean up your plate as well, which was something he did with a frown on his face as Mrs. Sim endorsed that he should help with the household work.

Both ladies were in awe of how well mannered Jake was, and it left you irritated to no end before Mrs. Sim called out your name softly.

“Jake’s been acting distant lately,” she told you in a soft voice, making sure the said boy doesn’t hear you both, “and comes home late from his part time work, doesn’t share a lot these days too,” she sighs before looking at you softly, “you’re such a lovely girl, Y/n. I’m sure Jaeyun would love to have you as a friend he can rely on. Will you please look after him?” She asked, eyes sincere with worry for her son.

Now, you were provided with two choices—one to say yes and agree, but you’d have to be in Jake’s proximity for that. The second one would be a plain no, which would sound disrespectful and insolent.

So you put on your most convincing smile, which turned into an unadulterated one when you saw her being concerned about her son, “of course, I’ll do that, Mrs. Sim.”

“Oh please! Call me auntie,” she swatted her hand at your formal usage of name and you laughed, agreeing.

Since the dinner was summed up now and the dishes were done, courtesy of Jaeyun; you were asked to walk them back home, which wasn’t even a two minute walk, however you couldn’t say no to your grandma and hence, you agreed.

Mrs. Sim—or your auntie Sim, thanked you for the dinner, and proposed to at least have one meal of the day together each day, which you thought was a lovely idea given that you had grown to like the lady.

You were just about to leave when she went inside but a firm grip on your wrist stopped you right away, making you look up at Jake in question.

“You don’t have to bother being my friend, you’ll only be a hindrance in my way,” he says smoothly.

Your expression turns sour, almost as if you were bored, “why? So you can keep your fake good boy persona up and going?” You said, mimicking his tone.

Not expecting such a reply, he let out a surprised scoff, mixed with the slightest chuckle, “so what? It doesn’t concern you. Or are you offended that I’m not actually good, like you,” he whispered, leaning close, which made you realize how tall he actually was, “you know nothing about me, princess.”

The nickname rolled off his tongue seamlessly, sending a shiver down your spine while you kept a straight face, trying not to seem affected at all.

“Neither do you know about me, Sim. So stop making assumptions and just because I’m nice doesn’t mean I’ll take your bullshit.” You rolled your eyes, saying it all in one go before turning around to leave.

“You should be scared of me,” he chuckles behind you.

“In your dreams,” you retorted, not sparing him another glance as your heart palpitated.

You had never talked to anyone in such a manner before, it gave a sense of newfound confidence—which you needed.

Jake simply watched you walk back to your place, shaking his head once you disappeared from his eyesight and still, a humorous smile never left his face.

You had updated your parents about your three days here and later called your friend to do the same, who was also busy with her own vacation bucket list, yet it was a refreshing talk given that you currently did not have much to do to entertain yourself.

Which left you to grab your swimwear and go for a swim—utilizing the pool in your backyard.

Gigi loved to sit by the pool and made sure that it was cleaned every now and then. She had gotten it cleaned right in the morning today, which also gives you an opportunity to use it.

The sunset casted a warm glow on the calm waves of the pool, the slight breeze in the air making it serene as you immerse yourself in the water, it closing you right in, feeling like a warm hug.

You started slowly with effortless strokes, enjoying the feeling of lukewarm water on your body. You stopped after a while, resting as you let your body float with your eyes closed.

“Enjoying ourselves, are we now?” A voice broke your state of tranquillity, your eyes opening in a swift and the water sloshed with how fast you turned around.

Of course, it was none other than Jake sim who sat on the pool lounge chair, arms behind his back as if he was sitting to enjoy the view.

“The fuck are you doing here?” You breathed out in question.

He looked at you, feigning disappointment as he leaned to look down at you, “oh, princess. Didn’t they teach you not to use such filthy words?”

His condescending tone only riled you up, “didn’t they teach you not to show up at someone’s place unannounced?” You mocked, getting out of the pool and trying to find your towel, only for you to realize he was sitting right on it.

“I’m simply here to get cumin from your grandma, we ran out of it, you see,” he explained, not sounding sincere as he let his eyes wander all over your wet body, barely covered with your bikini.

Your eyes, however, focused on the cigarette he took out from his pocket, making you gasp as you made your way towards him in an attempt to snatch it off his fingers.

Nevertheless, Jake was quicker to get up, grabbing your hand which was extended and pinning it up against the wall, his body pressed up against yours, successfully making your body go still with shock.

Yeah, you didn’t really adore your body’s fight or flight response.

“Fuck—” your eyes widened, yet he wasn’t the one to give you even a second to complain.

“Shh, princess. I don’t want a single bad word coming out of your mouth now, is that understood?” He asked, using his condenscending tone again.

You could feel every ounce of confidence which you had yesterday leaving your body as you stared into his honey eyes, an unconscious slight nod betraying you.

That satisfied him, although he didn’t bother changing his position, nor did he mind your wet body as he took out a lighter from his free hand, lighting up the flame, keeping it close to the cigarette which was pressed in between his lips.

Your eyes were transfixed on his face, observing how swiftly he closed the lighter, stuffing it in his pocket right before he looked away, blowing smoke into the air, giving you the greatest opportunity to stare at his consummate side profile.

He took the joint back in his fingers, returning his attention your way, “ever smoked before?” He asked, tone seemingly raspier.

Not trusting your voice, you simply shook your head as to provide him an answer.

He snickered, “of course you haven’t. It goes against your good girl rulebook, doesn’t it?”

“Shut up!” Your sudden outburst of anger only humoured him, even more so when you tried to snatch the cigarette from him using your free hand to prove him wrong.

He didn’t let it happen.

Instead, you found yourself looking right into his eyes with his slender fingers holding your chin in place. His breath was cool with a lingering smell of mint—which was probably due to the flavour of cigarette.

“Want it that bad now?” He raised his brows, “open your mouth,” he ordered, not giving you a second to comply, his thumb parting your lips as he desired.

He took a drag, inhaling the smoke deeply as you gulped, you could hear your heartbeat, or maybe that was simply how aware you were of your surroundings—your proximity with Jake.

Tilting his head, he leaned in again, mouth parted just the right amount. He let the smoke out and into your mouth in an agonizingly slow fashion, his lips on the verge of touching yours.

Your subconscious took over once you inhaled the smoke and it hit your throat. The burning sensation caused you to push him off as you coughed out in distress.

“Guess you can’t handle it, princess,” he clicked his tongue in disappointment.

You glared his way, composing yourself enough to actually snatch the cigarette from his fingers and take a deep puff, ignoring the way it burned your throat. It was your turn to surprise him by pulling him closer, grabbing his collar.

Your eyes were closed when you leaned in, blowing the smoke right into his mouth, causing him to take it all in, him never once closing his eyes. He stared at you with such intensity that you could feel it, despite your eyes being closed.

Once you were done, you breathed deeply, throwing the cigarette on the ground, “don’t get ahead of yourself, Sim,” that’s all you said before walking back into your home, rushing up the stairs and into your room just to avoid running into him again.

Only when you were in the safety of your room, you let out a frustrated scream right into your pillow.

Three days in your vacation and this boy had already driven you insane to the point you had smoked right into his mouth.

You took a warm shower before taking a nap—something you required to calm your heart before you saw him at dinner, again.

In contrast to yesterday, when he didn’t provide you with an ounce of attention, his behaviour had done a solid one eighty as now, he provided you with his utmost attention, passing you subtle smirks during the entirety of the dinner.

You were more than glad when auntie Sim distracted you by indulging in random conversations, and you can easily say you enjoyed the information she was providing you with at the given moment.

“And, and!” Auntie Sim said full of excitement, “Our Jaeyunie was four and you were three when it happened. He was so curious about you playing on the beach building sandcastles alone, he wanted to talk to you and so he collected flowers from our garden and gave them to you,” she cooed.

You looked at the boy, surprised with the information of him being a sweet baby. Now, he was the one who tried to stop his mother from spilling the stories any further, averting his gaze but you didn’t let it go.

“Aw! That’s so cute Jaeyunie. Where are my flowers now?” You asked, voice annoyingly high to bother him.

Your grandma laughed as auntie Sim only urged Jake to get some for you. He looked your way, annoyed and you only passed him a sweet smile.

You couldn’t deny, being a menace did feel good at times and the dinner wasn’t so bad after all.

Yet, the events of the evening didn’t let you sleep, causing you to walk on the balcony yet again and you couldn’t miss the figure clad in all black leaving your neighbour’s home yet again, at two after midnight nonetheless.

It wasn’t something you should be indulging in yet you couldn’t help but wonder.

What exactly was Jake up to?

In these ten days of vacation, you had done quite a few things which included learning a few recipes with your grandma, bickering with your neighbour, minus the proximity as you made your mission to stay away for the sake of your poor heart. Majorly, you had grown to adore the beautiful beach which was right behind your home.

Seeing how you had nothing to do in the given moment, you found yourself sitting on the warmth of the sand yet again, close enough for your feet to touch the water which was cold, juxtaposing the temperature of your body.

You didn’t know how long you sat there dazed, watching the never ending blue waves stretching as far as possible, till you gasped and got taken back into reality once a hand on your shoulder shook you in annoyance.

It was none other than Jake, who stood there with his jaw clenched, a bouquet of flowers resting in his right hand, causing you to raise your brows at him.

“Mom forced me to do this, okay?” He huffed, handing you over the multicoloured bundle of happiness.

It didn’t matter that it was Jake who gave you the flowers, it still made you happy, a smile growing on your face as the scent infiltrated your senses.

This certainly wasn’t the kind of reaction Jake was expecting from you. He was sure you’d throw a snarky remark or maybe simply not take the flowers from him, but even you couldn’t deny the beauty of nature.

“Thank you,” you whispered under your breath, surprising him even more.

It was one of the days you felt calm, not wanting to channelize your energy into something as useless as picking up a fight, however, Jake won’t leave without that happening.

“That’s it? You just need flowers to shut up?” He tantalizes you to answer back.

You only give him a sour look in return, wondering what he’s even doing on the beach wearing shoes, clad in leather jacket as if he was going for the cliché illegal races you see in movies.

“You should go, Jaeyunie,” you nodded with a fake smile.

Your phone started ringing just then, and Jake caught the display name right before you picked up the call.

It was Lee Heeseung—the guy who was your study partner in school and also the guy who was your competition when it came to academics.

The call wasn’t long, he had simply contacted you to inform you about the university he got into as you also filled him up with the university you got accepted into.

You assumed that Jake would have gone back, which wasn’t the case as he stood behind you, eavesdropping shamelessly. His expression turned into one of realization when he saw you actually smiling and talking sweetly to whoever was the guy who had called you, a scoff leaving his mouth on its own accord.

“Yeah! Yeah, of course. Will text you later, goodbye!” You smiled, concluding the conversation only to find Jake still standing at the same spot, making you look at him in question.

“Didn’t know you had a boyfriend,” he said, seeming bored.

A sigh left your mouth, Jake was great at making assumptions, “why do you care?” You asked.

“I don’t,” he replied, not missing a beat, “I should go, I have work to do,” he said, walking back to his place.

Your lips worked before you could process anything, “yeah? Like you do every night?” You asked.

He stilled, turning back in a second and crouching down to your level, grabbing your nape, pulling you close to him, “don’t get involved in my matters, Y/n. I’m saying this for your own fucking good,” he seethed out, causing you to gulp, your heartbeat rising up due to the proximity again.

“What are you up to, Jakey?” You asked teasingly, trying to diffuse the tension.

“Nothing that concerns you, princess. I’m being serious, okay?” He held eye contact, repeating the last word again, and you nodded.

“Okay,” you mumbled as you felt him caressing your nape gently before he got up, leaving you there wordlessly.

You didn’t realize how hard you were clutching the flowers while watching his walking figure. The sudden mood switch made you curious, and despite him warning you, it was something you wanted to see for yourself.

Was he in trouble? Was he caught up in illegal activities? Or was he simply out partying somewhere?

Another sigh left your lips.

You shouldn’t get involved in his matters.

You got yourself involved in his matters.

Sneaking out of your home was easy and you made sure to grab your jacket as the night got chillier than usual. All this to follow Jake.

It was easy since he didn’t use any cars, walking towards his desired destination. It almost felt comical how you tried to tiptoe for a total of fifteen minutes, hiding in random alleyways whenever you made even the slightest noise of stepping on a pebble.

For a second you even regretted coming out and spending so much energy on this, till you saw Jake actually stop and get inside an alleyway, which you approached exactly two minutes after he went in.

Peeking in, you noticed how wide the way actually was, people clad in black and hoodies which hid their faces were present all over, more than thirty people you’d estimate.

You squint your eyes to get a better focus of what they were up to, only for them to widen in realization when you found them exchanging packets and smoking what looked like drugs. Jake was also engaged in a conversation with a guy, purchasing drugs from him, which caused you to gasp slowly.

“Looking for something, kid?” A deep, hoarse voice spoke near your ear, causing you to flinch and move away, turning around to see a guy full of tattoos smiling down at you, which disgusted you.

“Fuck,” you muttered under your breath, looking towards your right to see Jake looking your way, eyes full of shock and worry as he whispered your name under his breath, not believing that you’d actually follow him there despite him saying a firm no to you.

Maybe he was right, maybe you shouldn’t have come here.

“Uhm, I—I lost my way back home. I’ll get going now, I didn’t see anything I promise! You guys please continue,” you said, trying to sprint but the guy was quick to hold your jacket, making you stop as Jake rushed your way, leaving whatever he was up to.

Before anyone could take up any action, the sound of police sirens alerted everyone in the vicinity, which was more than enough for all the guys to scramble as you stood there with panic, trying to move your body seeing how the guys were climbing up the wall full of graffiti on the other side as it was the only way to their escapade.

“Run,” Jake breathed out, grabbing your smaller hand in his without any notice and running towards the same way, his jaw was clenched.

You followed wordlessly, mouth open with how deeply you were breathing, chest heaving up and down while you ran and reached the wall.

The sirens got closer as if someone had tipped the cops to search this particular area and you were worried if you both would get caught up in this mess.

“Jump,” he commanded and you stared at the wall, shaking your head.

“I—I can’t,” you stuttered, watching how the others claimed it

He pulled you closer, picking you up with ease as to provide you with some kind of elevation, which definitely helped when you grabbed on to the top brick, pushing your body up and jumping to the other side, stumbling slighting as you fell down.

Jake was swift, landing by your side before he grabbed your hand again, pulling you up with him to run again. Your legs hurt yet you didn’t stop till he pulled you by his side, getting a bobby pin out of his pocket to unlock the door, which he opened in a go and pulled you inside, locking the door.

Silence.

Your breathing is all you could hear, but Jake’s eyes were louder than anything else, which scared you even further.

“I specifically told you to stay out of it, what’s so hard to understand here?” He more or less shouted, pushing you against the wall.

You gulped, not looking at his face but he wasn’t having it, he grabbed your chin and forced you to look his way.

“What if they did something to you? What if the police caught you? What if something had happened to you?” His voice got smaller after each sentence, more breathy and desperate, making your heart break when he genuinely made it seem like he cared about you.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered, which probably wasn’t helpful at the given second, “I thought that you were in trouble and,” you whispered, not having more to say.

He sighed, resting his forehead on yours as his eyes closed to get some rest. You couldn’t move, your whole body felt more alive than ever, maybe it was the adrenaline rush, or simply Jake being so close to you.

He stepped back after a few seconds, “go change,” he said, and that’s when you looked around to find yourself in a boutique full of clothes.

“W—why?” You asked.

“Because the cop saw us, he knows what we’re wearing,” he answered, trying to find clothes his size.

Maybe he saw you when you were climbing up, meaning that you barely escaped him.

“But surveillance cameras? Technically, won’t this be considered stealing?” You bit your lip.

“There are none,” he replied, “and we have more pressing matters than to sit and worry about stealing.”

You nodded even though he wasn’t looking your way, trying to find some outfit, or rather, you were stealing it given the circumstances.

“So, why were you out there?”

“I should be asking you that, Y/n,” he said when you went into the changing room.

“You had drugs with you!” Your voice boomed from the stall and he simply took off his shirt in the store.

“So what?” He uttered, pissed.

“Did you smoke drugs that day too? Did you give me drugs?” You screeched while asking and he opened the curtains, seeing you soothing the top down.

“I don’t fucking do drugs,” he groaned, “I buy it and sell it to the guys next town at a higher price,” he explained.

The dim light from the changing stall only enhanced Jake’s shirtless body, his abs full on display alongside his torso, which was well built. Your eyes settled on the tattoo he had on his left side of the rib.

Taking a step further, your fingers gently traced the intricate design, making him shiver without you knowing, his fingers clasping around your wrist to keep it away again.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He whispered.

“I—” you started speaking, looking at him with wide eyes which shone of innocence and worry, lips jutted in the slightest pout and hair slightly messy.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he breathes out, not letting you complete your sentence, coming closer to your face, “why do you have to do everything I tell you not to do?” He asked, however his tone wasn’t filled with anger.

It was something you quite couldn’t pinpoint yourself.

He sighed, “let’s get you home.”

“Are we gonna walk back? Isn’t it too dangerous?” You asked as he turned around to put on a shirt averting your eyes from his back which flexed with his movements, your body felt warm and throat parched, especially when he turned around with a smirk.

“We’re driving back home.”

You soon found yourself on a lookout at the garage entrance of what Jake called an illegal garage which was used for repairing old racing cars. The place wasn’t authorized, which is why stealing from here would work perfectly.

“How do you even know this?” You asked, exasperated as your nerves got the best of you.

It certainly didn’t help that the place was dark, and Jake wasn’t replying as he was hot wiring the car without a number plate

You had no idea where he learned that from.

“You need to learn things if you want to survive in this world, darling,” he said, focusing on his work, not once thinking how you’d shiver with his use of nicknames.

He’s glad it’s not some new high tech car, which he won’t be able to hot wire as they contain ignition immobilizers, which makes it impossible for it to happen—you nodded as he explained all of this, your focus elsewhere.

“Let’s go,” he said after a few minutes, seemingly done with his work.

You rushed to get into the car, a scream leaving your mouth as he started driving almost instantly, his fingers gripping the steering wheels hard enough for his veins to pop out as you struggled to put on the seatbelt.

“I can’t believe this is actually happening,” you let out in half a scream.

“Why? Not having fun now, princess?” He chuckled as he changed the gear, resting his hand on your thighs right after which caused you to squirm around in your seat.

Your body was extra attentive when he was around, and you weren’t sure how to control your heart anymore, so you closed your eyes.

“What’s so fun about this?” You asked, clutching the seatbelt.

“You,” he confessed, messing up with your brain even further.

“I hate you,” you mumbled, looking elsewhere.

You didn’t trust his driving despite it seeming effortless, he was over speeding after all.

“Now, we both know that’s not true, princess,” he stated and you huffed, knowing that he was right ignoring the fact that he was insufferable.

His pace ensured you to reach home in record time, your legs felt wobbly the second you stepped on the road.

“Stay here, I’ll be back in a second,” he rushed, leaving you standing alone as he parked the car outside a random garage two minutes away from your place.

It was hard to believe how you got chased by police, stole clothes and a fully functional car all in one night.

You saw him jogging back to you after a few minutes, standing right in front of you, “I think I should get back now,” you started to stay, however he stopped you.

“You can’t do that, your gate’s got a surveillance camera so we need to go from the back side,” he stated, his hand automatically reaching for yours as you started to make way towards the back side, on the sand.

All of a sudden, you felt smaller, heat creeping up your neck due to the body contact and you let him guide you wordlessly before you realized something.

“Wait, how will you go back? Your place doesn’t have a back door,” you asked and he shrugged.

“I’ll just jump to the other side of the garden wall, princess. You don’t need to worry about me,” he teased and you pushed him away, the warmth of his hand leaving yours.

Tiptoeing into your home, you shut the back door as silently as possible before you rushed up the stairs and almost into your room, only to find Jake coming up with you.

“What are you doing?” You whisper asked, eyes wide.

“I’m curious about your room,” he answered with that usual smirk of his and you wanted nothing more than to slap it off his face.

“You—” you tried to say, but stopped the second you heard another voice.

“Oh, Peanut? You’re awake?” Your grandma’s voice called out from the balcony, and your mouth hung open as you shoved Jake into your room in an effort to hide him.

“Y—yes, Gigi! I woke up to get some water,” you lied, wincing slightly as she acknowledged it and wished you a good night in her soft tone.

You rushed in and locked the door, only to find Jake getting cozy in your bed.

It was one of those days when your grandma missed your grandpa, and she spent hours on the balcony, looking at the glistening stars to find solace. You felt sad but the more pressing matter here was—how to get Jake out of your room?

He can’t leave from the back door, he can’t go out from the front door as Gigi would see him, your room windows weren’t the opening type which left you with no option but for him to spend the night right here, with you.

“Now what?” You asked, hand on your forehead while you paced around the room.

“What? We sleep together, of course.” He had a cheeky smile on his face.

“Are you crazy?” You almost screamed, but you didn’t wanna alert your grandma, which made you repeat it in a hushed tone.

“Why? Too scared to sleep with me? You’re the reason we’re in this situation, princess,” he smirked.

You sighed. He was right about that part but you weren’t willing to sleep with him, so you proceeded to ignore him as you went into the bathroom to change into your comfortable clothes for the night.

Jake simply patted the bed when you came out, silently asking you to sit next to him, and suddenly you realized that you’re locked up in a room with him, which didn’t help your nerves as you sat down with him.

Somehow everything was rebellious against your rules when it concerned Sim Jaeyun.

“Can’t you sleep on the floor?” You almost whined.

He cocked his brow, “is that what I get after helping you escape?”

“That’s not it—”

“So? Is it the boyfriend?”

“I don’t have any—”

“The guy you were talking to in the morning.”

“He’s a friend—”

“Then there’s no problem, right?” he rasped.

You didn’t realize your lip was bitten till his thumb brushed against your bottom lip, tugging on it gently to free it, caressing it while looking into your eyes.

“Right?” He repeated.

“Yeah,” you breathed, nodding ever so slightly.

“Atta girl,” he chuckled, flustering you as you tried to look away, which wasn’t something Jake allowed, his fingers gripping your chin now, “god, you look so fucking innocent.”

“I’m not!” You argued.

“Yeah? Have you been kissed before, princess?” He asks, amused.

His deep voice sends a shiver down your spine, to the point you almost whimpered out loud, but you were glad you didn’t, “no. But that doesn’t mean I haven’t fucked anyone before.” You confessed, eyes on his plump lips.

“Oh? Who’s the loser who fucked you without even kissing your prettiest lips?” He asked, frustrated that someone even dared to touch you, even though his words said otherwise.

You gulped, “we were drunk,” you whispered, remembering your graduation party and how the guy had failed to please you.

“Did he make you feel good?” Jake asked, expression serious.

“What?” You were surprised by his question.

He wasted no time in pulling you to his lap, your gasp only made him smirk wider, his hands resting on your waist, squeezing it lightly.

“Did he satisfy you, princess?” His voice was an octave deeper, giving you goosebumps.

“H—he didn’t,” you stutter, which pissed him further, his jaw tensed.

“So you’re telling me that some asshole was deep inside you and didn’t even bother making you feel good?” He scoffed.

“Jake—”

“Y’know what I would have done instead?” He asked, caressing your cheek, his thumb resting on your lips right after, “I’d kiss your lips till you get obsessed with mine.” his hooded eyes lured you in.

His fingers travelled down to your neck, rubbing circles just above your clavicle, “I’d kiss you till my lips memorize every inch of your body, till your mind goes blank,” he whispers, biting your earlobe.

You breathe in deeply, a whimper leaving your mouth, Jake’s name rolling off your tongue in a whisper right after, making him groan in response.

“I’d ruin you, princess,” he breathes, eyes meeting yours.

“Please.” You struggled to breathe, his pointy nose brushing against yours, lips threatening to kiss.

“Say it,” he urged you, pulling your body impossibly closer on his lap.

There was no denying that Jake made you lose every sense of rationality and morals in you, it almost felt as if you were intoxicated in his presence, your heart raced, thumping faster than ever, urging you to say yes.

“Please ruin me, Jake,” you whispered, giving in and looking at him with innocent eyes.

“That’s a good girl.”

He was swift to push you down on the mattress, getting on top of you with hungry eyes to the point you almost felt as if you were a prey, and you liked it.

His cold chain brushed against your clavicle, making you shiver as he leaned down to press his lips against yours in a fervent kiss, a groan leaving his mouth as he finally had you so close to him.

Your fingers held on to his shoulders desperately, he was difficult to resist, and who were you to resist such pleasure? His plush lips moulding against yours, his hand squeezing your waist as you allowed yourself to get immersed into him.

You could feel the warmth spreading in your abdomen like wildfire, a gasp giving him the perfect opportunity to taste you, sliding his tongue down your mouth to deepen the kiss, the taste of chocolate lingering in his mouth and you let yourself moan into his lips.

You tugged on his hair, realizing how correct he was about you being obsessed with his lips as you found yourself chasing after it when he broke the kiss, making him chuckle at your desperation.

“So fucking pretty,” he muttered, staring at your slightly swollen lips, which glistened with the mixture of your spit.

He wasn’t the one to waste time, his tongue licking your neck, placing kisses all over it, causing you to squirm and pant till he found the spot which had you rolling your eyes with sheer pleasure.

Placing a hand over your mouth to silence your moans, he felt a feeling of possessiveness take over him. You looked so fucked out and he hadn’t even done anything to you yet, he wasn’t sure what he’d do if he sees someone else with you.

The mere thought had him biting and sucking on your skin in an attempt to mark the very spot which had you shivering and your toes curling. He slipped his other hand inside your flimsy tee, and in your bra, feeling your hardened nipples which he flicked between his fingers.

Your body felt more awake than ever, each touch of his getting a reaction out of you, “so responsive, have you been waiting for this, princess?”

You could only nod in desperation, trying your best to keep your moans at bay, not wanting to alert your grandma. He kissed your cheek before he got up to get rid of his own clothes, giving you a few seconds to stare at his faint abs, highlighted by the dim lights along with his tattoo, which you so desperately wanted to kiss.

The image of you looking his way with such big eyes, chest heaving up and down only ignited the carnal feeling of him wanting to be deep inside you.

It all felt new to you, being aware and not drunk this time, however it wasn’t just that—Jake made you feel this way, your thighs closing when you felt a fluttering sensation down your abdomen.

“Undress,” he ordered.

“What—”

“Undress for me, darling,” his words were smoother than the melted butter, making you work upon it instantly.

His eyes were fixated on your figure the entire time you took to get your clothing off, feeling shy under his gaze, not to mention the outline of his cock in his boxers intrigued you even further.

“Fuck, you’re all mine,” he said under his breath.

His plush lips were soon on your tits, his other hand fondling and caressing your nipple while he worked his tongue, swirling it ever so perfectly before giving it a soft bite, making you arch your back as you bit on your discarded clothes, tears forming in your eyes with these euphoric sensations.

He’s giving you all you could ask for and you? You’re a mess with your lipstick smudged and ragged breathing. Just when you thought that Jake couldn’t get you anymore wilder, he stuffed his hand down your wet panties, which brushed against your extremely sensitive clit. Even biting your clothes couldn’t stop a moan coming out of your mouth.

“You like it, baby? That’s my good girl. So pretty and wet all for daddy, yeah? Daddy’s gonna taste you now, princess,” his spoke, his accent deep.

“Daddy?” you asked, whimpering right after when his lips touched your bare pussy, pressing a kiss on your clit.

There was something in the way he addressed himself so confidently which made you want to submit yourself to him fully, only pushing yourself deeper into sub space as he worshipped every inch of your body.

“That’s right, baby,” he spoke against your, sending waves of pleasure through your body as his strong hands held your thighs open.

Obscene noises of him licking and sucking resonated the room as you bucked up your hips unconsciously, desperate for friction, making his cock twitch while he licked languid strokes up and down your cunt, his hot breath fanning your folds, wishing to hear you moan despite the circumstances.

“Shh, princess. We don’t want your grandma to know now, do we?” He smirked.

Your hand slithers into Jake’s hair, tugging on it as you convulse in pleasure, letting him continue his ministrations on your leaking pussy, his lips soft unlike his actions, which were rushed and aimed at your pleasure.

Your eyes roll back, arousal reaching its peak at the unadulterated pleasure as you repeated his name when he moved down to shove his tongue into your cunt, lapping at your juices when you reach your orgasm.

Yet he doesn’t stop, inserting his slender finger in your tight hole, pumping it in and out gently at first while you whine and he gets up, wetness coating his lips. He lets you taste yourself by kissing you yet again, his fingers entertaining your cunt.

Your breaths are heavier, louder and you can’t wait to have his cock shoved into you. You weren’t the one to have lewd thoughts in general yet here you were, moaning into Jake’s mouth, clenching around his two fingers which thrusted into you at a newfound speed.

“Yes, daddy! Yes, oh god,” you mumbled to yourself, letting the lust consume you.

His fingers curled inside you before he decided that you were ready for his cock.

“Let’s see how desperate you are, beg for daddy’s cock, princess,” he demanded.

Now that his cock was in view, you stared at it dumbfounded. It was veiny and stood hard and leaking, the tip was red and ready to fuck you dumb, it pushed you over the edge.

“Please, daddy? I’ll be a good girl for y—you please fuck me?” A tear left your eye, tainting your image even further which aroused Jake as a sadistic smile overtook his face.

You continued to beg him, and he gave you no warning as he lined his tip on your entrance, coating it with your juices, almost pushing it all in but instead, he gave you just the tip, which made you beg out of frustration.

“Tell me about your darkest fantasies,” Jake teased, seeing you pout and whine, “do it baby, only then you’ll get this cock into you.”

You were going crazy, “I—I want to be fucked awake,” you confessed, hiding your face.

“Is that so? How cute,” he commented, pulling your body flush.

Within a second, he thrusted into you sharply, your wet juices acting as the perfect lube to suck his cock right in as he bottomed out fully, cussing at the feeling of your walls clenching around him.

You could feel the imprint of his dick on your lower abdomen, and he pressed on it with a proud smirk, only to make you whimper lowly, your voice quivering with deep he was in you, “big—so big.”

You laid beneath Jake in such a way that the sight was captivating for him, your vulnerability paired with his ignited primal hunger.

He firmly wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling out slightly before he thrusted into you again as you were clinging onto him.

He had never found anyone like you before, it was as if you were the only one for him, the one who reacts to his touch in such ways, the one who drives him insane to the point he has to rile you up just to get you to talk to him.

His slow thrusts soon turned into relentless, pleasure inducing thrusts, and you found yourself bucking your hips up to meet him, helping him reach deeper spots in you, his tip hitting your g-spot.

Choked moans escaped your lips, reaching the point of complete incoherence as you got drunk in the intensity of Jake’s presence, your senses overwhelmed as he fucked you without any interruptions.

“Daddy—please!”

Sensing that you were close, he thrusted harder, twitching inside your pussy, his lips capturing yours as you both cried out, reaching your climax in harmony, breathing in deeply before he filled you up with his warm cum, which mixed with your own juices.

“Fuck,” you breathed out, causing him to laugh and pull you in a sweet kiss.

You could see the clear switch in his demeanour when he cleaned you up, asking gentle questions about how you felt or if he went overboard.

He was perfect.

Something had changed in the air, and you both were aware of it, but rather than verbalising it, you slept in each other’s arms, Jake staying up a few minutes just to see your peaceful face.

“Good night, princess.”

Jake woke up early despite not getting enough sleep, still not believing that he fucked you—the prettiest girl he swore he’d ever laid eyes on.

And he was sure to make your desires come true.

You wore nothing but his shirt to sleep, which made your pussy accessible to him, his fingers playing with your folds ever so gently as he didn’t wish to wake you up, not this soon at least.

He continued to do so for a remarkably long time, smiling each time he saw you stir in your sleep, his lips leaving kisses on your neck and shoulder blades till you were fully wet for him.

Jake was shocked when you revealed that you were into somnophilia, but who was he to deny his girl some pleasure?

His other hand was busy taking care of his raging boner, seeing you dressed in his shirt, your scent mixed with his only drove him crazy.

His grip on your thighs was firm when he straddled you, pumping his cock a few times before he pushed it in you with a few thrusts, the stretch being enough to wake you up with a whimper, your state disoriented but the second you realized that Jake was making your wish actually come true, you moaned.

His dick throbbed inside you and you were still not over last night’s adventure as curse words filled the air, along with the mist of your unholy activities and fervent longing as he thrusted with a groan, kissing and nibbling on the skin of your neck.

You were sure you had bruises forming on your clavicle by now, which also extended down your breasts and inner thighs, Jake being particular about having you marked through and through.

You could only sigh and plead for more, beg for more, the word daddy coming out of your mouth effortlessly, which was effective to the point it made Jake fuel with desire as he provided you with the most overwhelming, ecstasy filled orgasm, him coming all over your pussy, pulling out this time.

“I like you,” he revealed all of a sudden, his smile the epitome of boyishness which made you chuckle with your newfound happiness.

That’s one good way to wake up in the morning.

“Guess what, Sim. I like you too,” you confessed, growing shy by the last word and he pulled you in a sweet hug, swinging your body along his, your laughter filling up the room.

You gasped, looking at him with wide eyes.

You had forgotten to help him escape without your grandma knowing.

The escape was successful, and so were your holidays which were nearing. Your sadness was apparent on your face, having no desire to go back leaving your grandma and aunt Sim.

More importantly, Jake.

It has become a routine for him to slip into your room ever so professionally to sleep with you—some nights you did sleep, other nights he gave you every reason to be awake.

Which also served as a solid reason for Jake to stop indulging in the so called drug trade, one instance of almost being caught was enough for you both, not that you were involved in the first place.

He opened up to you, actually acting like a goof at times, juxtaposing his usual bad boy demeanour. He provided you with the best of both worlds.

Your feelings for the guy you used to find annoying were increasing at record speed per day, and now that it was finally one day before you’d leave, you couldn’t help but be bothered by Jake’s absence.

He’s always around, which made you wonder where and what he was up to, especially when you wanted nothing more than to spend your time in his arms, lip quivering at the thought that he might not wish to see you anymore.

However, that wasn’t the case when he showed up in the doorway, huffing and hair messy as if he was running.

“Jaeyun,” you whispered, letting him pull you in the comfort of his warm arms.

“I’m coming,” he breathed, making you look at him with wide eyes.

“What?” You blinked, almost stuttering.

“I’m coming to Seoul with you, princess. I got into the same university,” he chuckled as you snatched the envelope from him, jumping with excitement as tears filled your eyes, hugging him even tighter.

You felt like your heart was going to explode with the excitement, which Jake found heartwarming. He had planned this the second he saw you and got to know you. It was a given that he wanted to be with you.

“What about your mom?” You asked softly, realizing that she’d be alone.

“She’s gonna stay with Gigi. Our ladies are strong women, right?” He asked, caressing your lip, which you had noticed was his habit.

“W—when did you even apply—this is so amazing,” you went on rambling, which was something he adored, but kissing your lips to shut you up was his favourite thing, especially when he got to see your shy smile right after.

“So, we’re gonna be together?” You questioned, shyness taking over.

“You’re wrong if you think you’ll ever get rid of me now, princess,” he smirked, teasing you again.

This side of him made you faux scoff, “but what if I want to get rid of you?” You challenged, knowing well you weren’t capable of that.

He took a step closer to you, his broad smile illuminating the room, his hand resting on your waist pulling you closer, “I’d like to see you try and escape me,” he retorted.

“You want me that much, huh?” Your smile was coy.

He brushed your nose tip with his, making you chuckle with joy.

“I’ll always want my princess.”

THANK YOU FOR READING!

PERMANENT TAGLIST: @ddeonuism @macaroonff @ajayke-reads @en-myworld @lunalovesstories @jayzdaze @deobitifull @silenth1lls @celeste-hoon @mari-oclock @kpoprhia @bolliwon @woniebae @lalalalawon @blessedcursd

permanent taglist open! comment or send an ask to be added <3

#fic : roman holiday #enhypen hard hours #enhypen smut #jake smut #jake hard hours #enhypen imagines #kpop smut #jake x reader #enha smut #jake #enhypen scenarios #jake sim smut

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astraystayyh · 1 year ago

Text

Echoes of love

"to love someone is firstly to confess; i am prepared to be devastated by you."

Chapter ii. to remember

genre : memory loss trope. angst. slow burn. unrequited love except you were in a loving relationship and everything changes overnight.

pairing : minho x reader. (3racha cameo)

summary : if given the choice would you love minho again? yes, you would've once said in a heartbeat. but now, you aren't sure of your response anymore.

cw : depiction of a nightmare and anxiety attack. allusion to mc having a bad family history with alcohol. suggestive in the end (allusion to sex but no smut). reader had she/her pronouns.

word count : 11k words.

song recs : the night we met/terrible love/black friday/cover me/already gone/enough.

chapter i. skz quotes series masterlist.

A.N: PT. 2 IS HERE!!!! i hope you'll enjoy this one, she's my baby and i put so much work and thought into her, so feedback is highly highly appreciated!!! thank you to my @forlix for being with me every step of this journey, i love u the most<33

Day 33.

With a gentle, absentminded sweep, your fingers trace the delicate contours of your wrist, a faint dance with the pulse beneath your skin– the cocoon of the soul you’re gradually growing accustomed to. It is a trying task, you've found out, to no longer yearn to flee from your body, leaving the weight of your worries for your bones and flesh alone to bear.

A subtle fragrance floats in the air surrounding you- the familiar gardenia and honey tones of your sweet perfume. It is a scent you reserve for special occasions, such as this one- your first date, in three months according to the world, in more than a year for your memory.

You swiftly retrieve a mirror from your pouch, checking your appearance for the tenth time in mere minutes. Your nude lipstick is still, unsurprisingly, in place, and you smile reassuringly at your reflection. She smiles back, though sometimes you half-expect her not to. In defiance, perhaps, maybe even repulse.

The melodious chime of the café's bell captures your attention, and the man you've been awaiting finally enters. He confidently strides in, clad in a blue polo and black slacks, an evident effort poured into his appearance.

Standing before you, his warm, gleaming eyes meet yours, effortlessly melting your lingering worries. You smile at him, he beams at you.

“Did I keep you waiting?” Changbin, your date, asks as he pulls the chair adjacent to you.

“No, just in time.”

Two weeks ago.

Day 17.

“Use me. Use me to remember,” Minho whispers, the distance between your lips resembling the thin edge of a blade.

You close your eyes, the world narrowing down to the sound of your heartbeat, a rhythmic drum drowning out any attempt at coherent thoughts. Kiss him, your heart chants, kiss him and all your memories will flood back. But what if they don't? What if the abyss persists before the brightest beam of light?

A tender kiss lands on your forehead, gently interrupting your tumultuous thoughts. Minho’s lips are as warm, as soft as you remember them. They're now imprinted into your skin, no longer a hazy memory beyond your reach.

His hands cradle your hair, smoothing it down, making the ringing in your ears soften. You surrender to his gentle embrace, to the soft tide of emotions rippling from him to you, pulling your wounded soul to safe shores.

“You need to forgive yourself,” he whispers, his words echoing against your skin, lips still pressed to your forehead. A rush of warmth overwhelms you, all your senses coming to life, ringing the alarm- he sees you, he sees through you.

“None of this is your fault,” he assures, a sudden cooling balm against your scorching wounds. These are the words you've been aching to hear. You didn't know, but Minho did, reading between the lines of your quivering lips and your reluctance to look into his eyes.

He knows you better than you know yourself.

“Don’t blame yourself, please.”

“But all I do is hurt people,” you confess, tears streaming down your face like a relentless downpour, soaking Minho's hands.

You expect punishment to strike you, bolting lighting aiming straight for your heart as you finally admit to your biggest sin- the shadow of sorrow that trails your every step. It is the way it has always been since you were a child. It is what you fled from.

What you don't expect is for tenderness to cradle you instead— in Minho's warm hand as he gently guides you to his chest, your ear resting above his steady heartbeat. Its rhythmic cadence akin to a lullaby- you shouldn't apologize for existing, you hear it sing to you.

“If you need forgiveness, I’ll give that to you. you’re forgiven, okay? I forgive you. Today and tomorrow. I'll forgive you until you'll forgive yourself.”

“Okay,” you nod, muffled words against the fabric of his shirt.

“Now, will you please come back with me? The cats will miss you a lot if you don’t,” he suggests, pressing his cheek onto the crown of your head.

“I don't want to leave them,” you reply in a small voice, dewdrops gathering in your eyes at the thought of running again.

“You don’t have to. It’s your home too.”

“Okay,” you sigh in acceptance, relief, encircling his waist with your arms. He is all inviting, like an open book, and you're resting between his pages, scribbled with love confessions for you.

The world stills, waves slowing their relentless crash against the shore, as you draw in a deep breath from the pits of your soul. You don't remember all you’ve once felt for Minho. But you know it must have been safe, like stumbling upon a haven and then learning it was specially carved for you.

“I miss you, Minho.”

“I know, I miss you too.”

Day 19.

“Minho, can you come to the kitchen please?” your voice reverberates through the house, weaving through the air and reaching the bedroom where Minho has been ensnared, his less-than-graceful complaints echoing loudly for the past hour. You had sealed him within without explanation, only making him promise not to leave the room until you told him to, much to his dismay, and deep down, amusement.

He chuckles lowly to himself as he rises from the bed, before making his way to the kitchen. There, he finds you near the doorway, hands concealed behind your back, dusty flour adorning your cheek like an artist’s absentminded paint stroke.

“So…,” you trail off and Minho smiles, crossing his arms before his chest.

“So?”

“A situation may have happened.”

“Which situation?” he inquires amusedly, attempting to peer past you into the kitchen. Your extended arms block his view.

“You know how I got a concussion from the car accident,” you ask.

“I do.”

“I think it may have affected my cooking abilities.”

“But you didn't have any to begin with?” he muses, tilting his head to the side innocently.

“Shut up,” you playfully admonish before clasping your hands in a silent plea. “Will you help me?”

“Mm, what are you making?” he inquires, leaning against the doorway.

“Pudding.”

“Pudding?”

“For you.”

“Oh.”

A blush creeps up Minho’s neck as he grapples to find a reply, his surprised gasp hanging into the air. You giggle faintly, entertained by his sudden speech impairment.

In response, Minho takes a step forward, delicately brushing away the flour on your cheek, his thumb hovering near the corner of your mouth. “How did this get here?”

“Huh?” you sputter, pink splashing across your cheeks like spilled Rosé.

Minho is testing your waters, dipping one toe in, hoping he’ll find your reassuring embrace lurking beneath the surface. Did you blush from the heat of the stove or his touch? Minho doesn’t know. Minho needs to find out.

“And you also forgot this,” he lightly pouts, reaching over your head to the hanger behind you, caging you between his arms.

He’s sacrificing his heart, placing it on the frontlines of hurt once again. Yet, when you look up at him, dewy eyes flickering to his lips, Minho feels a single match lighten up in his core, not enough to burn all his doubts. But enough to signal hope.

Hope is a perilous possession, akin to cradling a fragile glass that threatens to shatter at the slightest tremor. Hope is the only thread Minho can now hang onto.

“You forgot your apron,” he finally says, withdrawing two aprons from the hanger. He drapes one over your head before placing a hand on your shoulder, gently turning you around. He silently ties the strings into a ribbon, his fingers brushing against your spine. He can distinctly remember the feel of your bare skin beneath his fingertips, silky, smooth, intoxicating.

“There, a pretty knot,” he whispers, not moving back an inch, waiting for you to swivel around. Yet, you remain silent, undoing your hair from its loose ponytail. Your hair cascades over your shoulders, resembling the unveiling of curtains, and Minho senses something unfurling in the depths of his stomach.

“Tie it for me?” you whisper, handing him the hair tie without looking back. Your fingertips brush against each other, and Minho inhales deeply.

“Sure,” he says, voice thick with emotion, he needs to drink water. He needs to drink you in.

He gathers your hair strands in another low ponytail, trembling hands as they brush against the nape of your neck, akin to powerless leaves before the autumn breeze. He’s close, so close to you, so much his chest almost brushes against your back.

As soon as he’s done, Minho swiftly steps back before doing something he’ll surely regret, like placing a tender kiss on your shoulder, or worse, confessing that he misses the simple act of brushing your hair at night.

“So, pudding,” he clears his throat, rolling up the sleeves of his white hoodie. your eyes follow his movement, lingering on the veins protruding on his forearms. Minho feels a bit foolish for wanting to flex for you.

“It’s really easy actually. bring me two eggs?”

“Sure,” you grin, heading for the fridge as Minho retrieves sugar from the cupboard, throwing away the odd liquid mixture you managed to conjure.

You stand beside Minho, eyebrows furrowed as he explains why the milk needs to be brought to a boil before adding the cornstarch, or how adding the vanilla at the very end will help preserve its flavor. You listen intently, nodding along, and the tension between you dispels, leaving place for something comforting, familiar– you’re erasing the remnants of his sobs, the sight of him crumbling over the green kitchen tiles.

“Let's leave it to chill,” he finally says, closing the fridge’s door.

“Okay,” you nod, packing away the butter. Minho leans against the countertop, an ember of curiosity ablaze at the tip of his tongue

“Why did you want to make pudding?” he asks and you freeze in place.

“To see if I’m capable of not being a lost cause,” you respond playfully but the undertones of your voice indicate otherwise- laden, charged. One more match that you could light up?

“Really?” he says softly, taking one step toward you.

“No,” you giggle faintly and he nods, a gentle smile unfurling on his face, gradual as the eclipse of a moon.

“It was supposed to be your birthday gift. That's why I locked you in the room. I even bought little birthday hats for the cats, silly I know, and very late, but, turns out I’m a horrible-”

“I wanna see the birthday hats,” he cuts you off.

“Really? They’re really ugly.”

“It's my birthday gift, right?”

Five minutes later, you and Minho are seated on the floor, legs crisscrossed, three perplexed cats before you, and on their heads, obnoxiously neon green hats.

“They look so…” you tilt your head, assessing the view before you.

“Stupid?” Minho suggests, eliciting a startled snort from you that swiftly transforms into an almost maniac cackle, which in turn, catches Minho off guard. He gazes at you bewilderedly before succumbing to a fit of giggles, which intensifies your laughter, as you punctuate his shoulder with light hits, tears streaming down your face in an attempt to regain composure.

One hundred matches light up in Minho’s heart at the sight, all at once.

“My God, they look so stupid, I’m so sorry,” you laugh harder, your body collapsing to the ground, hands tightly clutching your stomach.

They can laugh again, the house sighs in relief, something other than sobs can still echo within my walls.

Day 22.

“I miss the sea,” you sigh softly, cradling a cup of chamomile tea between your hands. Minho, absorbed in his book, glances up to find a melancholic expression etched on your face—a poignant blend of sorrow and longing that he knows weighs heavy on your heart.

“We saw it over at the bridge, no?” he ventures tentatively, setting the book aside on the living room table.

“Yes, but I miss the sand, and the waves lapping at my feet. I miss feeling the sea, not just seeing it.”

“I’d take you, in a heartbeat,” he says assuredly, ready to bring you the moon if only you dare ask. “But it's far, and you can't get into a car.”

“I can try.”

“You can?” he questions, hope budding in his eyes.

“I mean- I want to, it's just… I don't know,” you retract, nails drumming anxiously against your cup, gaze lost into the amber liquid.

“Talk to me, yeah?” he smiles softly, draping a reassuring hand on your arm. His thumb swipes across the slate of your shoulder, and an impossible knot in your throat untangles.

“The accident took a lot from me. My health, my memories, a year of moving forward.” You quiet down, eyes meeting his in a barely veiled vulnerability. Silence speaks of your hardest loss— him.

“Can you help me get the sea back?”

Minho’s radiant smile is louder than any spoken agreement.

…

Thread by thread, drop by drop, your fears unravel as Minho lowers all the car windows’ before gently guiding you into the car seat, dispelling any prospect of feeling confined within the vehicle.

He remembers everything, even the panic that gripped your being when you went into his enclosed car, nearly a month ago.

“Can I blindfold you? It might help, so you wouldn't see the car lights since it’s night,” he suggests.

“Yeah, that'd be nice,” you agree, your hand lightly gripping the car seat.

“Hey, hey,” he calls out gently, “I'm here, okay? The second you feel overwhelmed I'm stopping this car.”

“Will you drive safely?”

“Of course. I promise you.”

Your nod is met with the softening of Minho's eyes, as he delicately tucks a strand of your hair behind the curve of your ear.

“I'm proud of you,” he whispers, tone laden with so much tenderness, love, that your throat becomes a garden, vocal cords bound not by thorns but the delicate blossoming of flowers.

With a gentle touch, Minho wraps a tie around your eyes, cocooning you in a tranquil darkness. His hand seeks yours instinctively, fingers intertwining with yours akin to the wind weaving through the strands of your hair.

In this moment, every fracture within you is delicately filled by Minho.

He starts driving, a soothing piano instrumental playing out of the car’s speakers- his hand still in yours. “Breathe,” he murmurs, his thumb tracing a soothing path across your palm.

“Follow my touch.” A gentle sweep to the right, an invitation to inhale slowly. “In,” his voice guides, and you draw in a deep breath.

Another caress to the left, a silent directive to release your confined breath. “Out,” he whispers, and you exhale, surrendering to the rhythm orchestrated by his thumb.

He raises the music’s volume, his touch becoming a maestro, speaking silently to you. You’re grateful for it, for the way in which he’s driving- avoiding curbs and speeding, safely, making the wheels float across the road.

Your heart still constricts in your chest, anxiety squeezing your veins, bleeding them dry, but you focus on Minho’s thumb, you let it guide you, like a compass navigating the dark tunnels of your heart.

“We're almost there,” he reassures as he stops by a red light.

“I look silly, right?” you reply, giggling a bit.

“What?” he asks, confused.

“I can feel you looking,” you clarify.

“How so?”

“My right cheek is tingling.”

Minho snorts incredulously. “What does that even mean?”

“You have a piercing stare. You're like melting through my skin and vibrating my bones.”

“Idiot,” he chuckles. My my my idiot, Minho grieves to say once again. The human heart is peculiar, he learns day after day, mourning the loss of a myriad of minuscule things, even words.

“And, you don't look silly,” he clears his throat minutes later, as he finally parks by the beach.

“You look pretty,” he utters, unraveling your blindfold, and you blink, caught between the sudden light and the weight of his words. “You always do,” he concludes, a whispered confession that lingers like the afterglow of a sunset, painting your world in golden hues.

“Minho, I…” you trail off, eyes landing on the vast sea ahead, blending into the sky in an alluring shade of turquoise. “We're here!” you shout bewildered, a magnificent grin on your face.

“We are,” Minho smiles, drinking in the delight in your expression.

“Oh my god I missed the sea!” you giggle as you undo your seatbelt, quickly opening the car’s door and taking off running.

Minho follows closely behind, captivated, as he watches you glide across the shore, the sand ricocheting off the soles of your shoes. You look like a fairy, bending the wind to your will, coaxing it into a choreography that mirrors the rhythm of your movements, your messy footprints marking your pathway to happiness once again.

Upon the sand, you finally settle down, and Minho walks over, sitting beside you. Both of you quietly gaze ahead, entranced by the moon's silver glow caressing the water’s surface. Each shimmering wave resembles glistening diamonds, a celestial mirror reflecting the lights in the sky.

“Have I ever told you why I love the sea?” you speak after a while, tone softer, more content.

“You did.”

“Can I tell you again?” you say. Can I tell you what I still remember? He understands.

“Of course.”

"There was a beach near our home, back then," you reminisce, a nostalgic aura enveloping your words. “And whenever I felt lonely I used to go there and watch the waves, to calm me down. But, one time, I was really overwhelmed so I ended up crying. And then, coincidentally, it started raining too.”

Your eyes widen slightly, a hint of amusement in your voice. “At that moment, I chuckled at the timing, how the sky was crying with me.”

“Ever since that day, I liked to believe that the sea is made up of the sky’s tears, the ones that fell in sync with those of humans, so it'd comfort us. And the tears grew from a pond to a river, to a vast ocean, as humans cried more and more. That's why sometimes the sea’s waters are gentle because those are tears of happiness falling somewhere. Sometimes they're stormy, since someone is crying out of anger. Sometimes they're melancholic, just relentlessly crashing against the shore, because someone is in pain. Like we are.”

A tranquil hush falls over the night as you quiet down, before turning around to meet Minho’s teary eyes, mirroring yours.

“And if the sea persists through tempests and tranquility, if it goes on despite the myriad of emotions it holds within, then so will we.”

Hope isn't fragile, as Minho once believed. Hope scrapes its bloody palms against the rough surface as it climbs defiantly to the pinnacle once again. Hope picks out rugged stones with weathered hands and builds a home out of them. Hope is strong, it clutches onto the thinnest threads so we’d endure and endure once more. As many times as we need to.

“Well, the sky isn't crying right now,” Minho notes.

“I know,” you smile softly, “Because we're holding on to hope.”

Day 26.

Under the soft glow of the TV, Dori settles comfortably on your shoulders, nuzzling her tiny nose onto your face every now and then. Soonie and Doongie are a bit far away, playing with a piece of yarn, captivated by its vibrant red threads.

It is an ordinary, comforting setting to watch a movie with Minho, on a Sunday night, a bowl of popcorn nestled on his lap while his cats lounge around. So familiar that the world around you blurs, like the vague brushes of an impressionist painting— a vivid déjà-vu sensation clinging to your body. You’ve lived this scene before. You want to live it again, now and in the future. More and more.

However something is different— your skin tingles, a buzzing sensation that travels from thigh to knee to hand, as if your body knows that something’s amiss. Minho’s touch perhaps, his palm casually resting upon your skin.

You don’t know where this urge is coming from— to lay your head on his shoulder, to have him run his fingers through your hair. Even more, to lose yourself in the nutmeg and peppermint notes of his cologne, to disintegrate your worries into his hold and rest.

“Would you mind if some of my friends came over?” Minho speaks up suddenly, cutting off your trailing train of thought.

“Hm?” you hum absentmindedly before clearing your throat. “I mean, no, I don't mind. Who are they?”

“Han and Chan. They’ve been asking about you for a while now.”

“Sure, this is your home.”

“It is yours too,” he says, gaze locking onto yours. His eyes are like a dark tapestry woven with threads of stardust- you’d never tire of looking into them, into the universe they seem to cradle within.

Do you know that there is a galaxy inside you? You almost slip out, words in an urgent race against your mind. You barely stop them at the tip of your tongue, before smiling and peeling your eyes away from his, painfully, like scratching a burn scab long before it heals.

…

“They’re here,” Minho announces as someone knocks on the door.

“Okay,” you smile, a tad nervous. You’re not even sure what for.

“If they annoy you too much tell me, I’ll kick them out,” he reassures, raising his brows playfully at you.

“That's mean,” you giggle, albeit soothed by his words.

“They already love you,” he grabs your wrist, his thumb gently swiping over your pulse. “No need to be worried.”

He drops it, as though a countdown is ingrained into his brain— never to touch you for more than ten seconds. Wouldn't it be selfish, pathetic even, to ask him for more?

As Minho heads to open the door, you linger in the living room, idly fidgeting with the hem of your sweatshirt. It is a weird circumstance to greet strangers who know you— you may have brushed against their shoulders in an alley and not known who they were.

Your thoughts dissolve as two men saunter into the living room, stopping in their tracks once their eyes land on you. They’re both beautiful– that is the first thing you note, closely followed by how relieved they seem to see you. Simultaneous soft sighs escape them, gentle smiles blooming across their faces. Tentatively, you return the gesture.

Minho takes the initiative to introduce them. “Yn. This is Chan,” he points to the man on the right, clad in black from head to toe, his smile grows wider, his eyes disappearing into moon crescents, two dimples peeking gleefully on his cheeks.

“And Han,” the younger man, sporting a Supreme t-shirt despite the cold, beams at you, highlighting his round cheeks, and an adam-apple that weirdly resembles a heart.

“I want to hug you but Minho put us on a strict no-touch notice because of your ribs,” Han speaks first, a small pout tugging at his lips as he glances at Minho, who simply rolls his eyes at his words.

“You can never keep something for yourself,” Minho sighs, rubbing the space between his eyebrows. You stifle an amused giggle.

“And she technically doesn’t remember us so it’d be weird for her to hug a stranger,” Chan notes, offering you an understanding smile.

“Hey, I didn’t mean it in a creepy way! more of ‘Oh my god I’m so happy you’re alive, thank you for still being here, I was so worried about you’.”

“But were you worried?” you ask, tilting your head to the side.

“Of course, I-”

“Then why weren’t you at my bedside?” you question, an eyebrow raised, and Minho chuckles at your words.

“W-what?” Han asks, glancing worriedly at the two men by his side.

“Why weren’t you there sobbing when I woke up? It doesn’t look like you were worried,” you muse, throwing a wink to Minho who walks over to you.

“Right, you should’ve sent her a pic of you crying,” Minho adds, as you drape a hand on his shoulder.

“A picture for every day you didn’t come see me,” you say solemnly as Han’s face grows paler by the second.

“I-I didn’t, I really was worried, I swear, I kept asking Minho every day about you and…” he trails off as giddy smiles break out on your face and Minho’s before you both burst out laughing.

“You guys are evil,” Han laments, as Chan pats his back in faux sympathy, a string of giggles falling from his full lips.

“I’m sorry. we made you dinner to make up for it,” you grin and Minho looks at you pointedly.

“He made you dinner,” you correct with a huff, and Minho smiles, satisfied, raising his brows smugly at his two friends.

“Let’s choose a movie then!” Han claps, turning to the TV as Minho sidles by his side.

“I’ll set up the table,” Chan announces.

“I’ll help you,” you offer, and he nods, clearly grateful for your assistance.

You’re taking out four plates from the cupboard, Chan effortlessly bringing out the glasses, clearly familiar with the nooks and crannies of your home, when he suddenly speaks.

“How are you, Yn?”

“Do you want the truth?” you ask back, and he grins. “Always.”

“I’m okay. Right now. I don’t know if I’ll still be tomorrow, you know? It all fluctuates so much.”

“Mm, I understand,” he says, and something about his tone indicates that he isn’t saying this just to comfort you. “And that’s okay too. What you went through wasn’t easy, but good times will come again. They always do, you know, just like the sun always comes back after the rain.”

“The sun,” you repeat, as you glance out at the living room, where Minho is laughing at something Han just said, his head tipped back, bunny teeth peeking out.

Perhaps the sun rays were by your side all along.

“Thank you, Chan,” you beam at him. “Truly, for being worried about me too.”

“It's nothing to thank us for. We care about you, even though you don’t remember us,” he pouts, a hand on his heart in mock offense.

“Hey, it’s not my fault I got amnesia!” you chuckle.

"Excuses!" he drawls with a playful tone as he exits the kitchen, and you can't help but laugh quietly to yourself. You recognize what he's doing—making light of your accident to alleviate the weight on your heart.

The night blurs in your memory, but this time it is tinged with happiness and laughter. The three men recall fun stories of their time together, a seven-year bond rooted in love and care, albeit silently. You witnessed it in the details—Chan ensuring the food was on their plates first, Minho peeling shrimp for Han, the latter rubbing Chan’s arms when he complained of being cold.

Then you saw it directed towards you– how they put on the movie you wanted and watched in anticipation as you took the first bite of food, draped the fuzziest blanket around you, and rushed to your side simultaneously when you stumbled on your feet.

You were loved, although you didn’t know of it. The accident took away your memories but it didn’t plague theirs.

“Thank you,” you beam at the two men as you walk them to the door. Opening your arms wide, you invite them in for a hug. Han embraces you first, a large smile on his face, and you gently beckon Chan in too. “Easy,” he whispers in Han's ears, careful not to put any pressure on your ribs. They both pat your back as you wrap an arm around their respective shoulders before leaning away.

“I’ll call you,” Minho bids them farewell, tipping his chin forward. They wave to him before finally leaving

You close the door, leaning against the auburn wood. Minho watches you, a soft smile playing on his face.

“Good?” he inquires, closing the distance between you.

“Mm, good,” you reply with a smile as he halts just an inch away. His intoxicating scent envelops you, permeating your bones and flowing through your veins like liquid warmth.

A torrent of memories floods your mind—images of you pressed against this same door. It is dark, a stark contrast from your first memory, a lone lunar beam of light slashing through the night. Minho’s hands grip your waist with a fevered urgency, while yours entwines around the nape of his neck, in passion, in hunger, almost as if you were deprived of him for so long.

You angle his mouth closer to yours, his lips pressing against your own repeatedly, a desperate attempt to brand the contours of his mouth into your soul. His hair, a cascade of midnight silk, tickles your fingers with an electric charge, like the crackling of the air before a storm. His tongue sweeps across your lower lip, seeking entrance, one you willingly surrender, white flag easily thrown to the ground. With every kiss, your bodies meld together, so much so that you could merge into the door, disappearing into the shadows as one.

“What's wrong?” Minho breaks your trance and you snap out of your reverie, a bright flush adorning your cheeks.

“N-nothing,” you stammer.

“You’re all red, do you have a fever?” he asks, coming closer, his hand pressed to your forehead. His woody scent envelops you once again– everything about him is enticing— his cologne, his lips on you, his fingertips dragging underneath your shirt, his eyes piercing yours, undressing you before his hands ever could.

“Yn?” he questions and you grab his jaw, angling his face away from you.

“Stay like this, don’t look at me for a moment.”

“What?”

“Just… please,” you say and he chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief, and yet he complies, his side profile now facing you.

How does he live with these memories each time he looks at you?

You take in a deep breath, focusing on his silhouette. It might seem counterproductive to fixate on the same man consuming your thoughts, but how could you not when he was mere centimeters away, his eyes averted from yours?

You exhale softly as your gaze glides along the graceful curve of his neck, a solitary mole resting just beneath his sculpted jawline, leading the way to his plump lips, a cupid's bow delicately carved by the hands of the divine archer himself — crafted to be kissed, to be adored.

Your eyes trail up, tracing the high bridge of his nose, another mole perched at its pinnacle, sharp and smooth as if chiseled by a master sculptor, one who dedicated months to perfecting his artistry. His eyes are a mesmerizing brown, punctuated with long lashes that flutter like the delicate wings of an angel with each slow blink.

Minho sweeps aside strands of his hair, his fingertip delicately fluffing them upwards. It dawns on you, a sudden revelation of the necessity of art — to immortalize such beauty for generations to come.

You imagine admirers gazing upon Minho, sighing in sheer amazement, their hearts tightening with emotions that words struggle to encapsulate in the face of this epitome of beauty. Inside and out, you reflect, inside and out.

“You told them not to drink around me, right?” you ask softly.

A blush grows from the base of Minho's neck to the tip of his ears, like roots expanding into the soil. He sighs before finally looking at you.

“I did. How’d you figure it out?” he wonders.

“I asked Han if he wanted a drink, but he refused so categorically that I assumed he didn't like alcohol. But most of his stories were of him drunk,” you chuckle quietly, and Minho shrugs sheepishly.

“We get loud when we drink. You don’t like that,” he says simply as if it’s a given, an absolute certainty that he’d do anything but make you uncomfortable.

He's beautiful, the light of his heart basking his face in a glow that even Michaelangelo's skillful hands wouldn’t be able to replicate.

And he loves you.

Till when? Your heart sounds out in alarm. Till when will he love you? What if the grains of sand slip away from the hourglass before you can reciprocate his love? Two stars colliding at disparate speeds, never converging into a singular entity, destined to erupt and scatter into cosmic dust.

How long do you have left? How many more days will he love you for?

How many more days do you have to love him back?

Day 30.

Minho is sick.

He tried his best to conceal it from you, as he came back from his dance studio, strands of his hair clinging to his forehead, a thin sheen of perspiration above his right eyebrow. Yet, his uncharacteristic silence betrayed him, as he quietly retreated into the shower, emerging with a solemn expression on his face.

Seated on the bed, book long forgotten by your side, you bit your lip tentatively. “You're okay?” you inquired, perched on the edge, concern etched in your gaze.

“Mm, just tired,” Minho responded, his attempt at reassurance falling short as he laid down on the floor mattress. “Can you turn off the lights?” he softly requested. “Hurts my eyes.”

“Yeah, of course. Will you sleep now?”

“I think so.”

“Okay then. Good night, Minho,” you uttered gently, the veins in your heart tangled with worry. “Good night,” he whispered in return.

In the stillness of the night, you were roused by soft whimpers escaping Minho's lips. He writhed in apparent discomfort, his features contorted with an unseen anguish. His pupils moved furiously underneath the thin layer of his eyelids, betraying the tumultuous thoughts raging in his mind.

You've never seen Minho so disrupted in his sleep, mouth slightly hung agape as if he struggled to breathe in the depths of his dreams. Your worry for him came back to haunt you ten times fold.

You lean over the bed, gently shaking his shoulders. “Minho, wake up.”

“No... no-no, don't-don't go,” he whispers, caught in the vines of a restless dream, seemingly wrapping around his mind, trapping him in. “Minho, come on wake up,” your pleas grow more insistent, but so do his. “Don't go, s-stay,” he implores, voice broken, prompting you to abandon your bed and join him on his mattress.

“Minho!” you call out, shaking him until his eyes finally flutter open. He gasps for air— as if inhaling his first breath on this earth, shooting upright, wide-eyed and disoriented.

His gaze locks on yours and he instantly cradles your face in his sweaty hands, bringing you closer to him until your noses bump into one another. “You didn't go,” he whispers, and you shake your head. “I'm here.”

“Fuck,” he swears, releasing his hold on you and sinking back into the pillow.

“Minho, what's wrong?” you ask softly, afraid you're treading on stormy waters.

“I… I don't know. I don't feel good,” He admits, fingers tugging at the collar of his shirt, as if the fabric morphed into a vise around his throat. A flush creeps up his neck, red dots splashing across his ivory skin. A droplet of sweat traces a slow path down his temple, as the white fabric clings uncomfortably to his warm skin.

“Do you have a fever?”you ask, placing your hand on his forehead, sensing an unusual heat radiating beneath your touch. “Minho, where is your thermometer?”

“Bedside drawer,” he breathes out.

Fetching the thermometer, you gently tug at his chin, opening his mouth to check his temperature. “Stay still”" you instruct, watching anxiously as the numbers climb steadily.

“40°C, fuck Minho, you have a really high fever,” you exclaim as he shuts his eyes, an unmistakable weariness claiming him, rendering him malleable, akin to the silk pillow he's resting on.

“I feel dizzy,” he admits, burying his face into the covers.

“You need to take a cold shower now,” you urge a sudden lump materializes in your throat at the sight of his suffering.

“It's okay, I'll just sleep.”

“No, no, it's far from okay!” you almost exclaim, tears stinging at the corners of your eyes as if you were peeling an onion—your own emotional layers unraveling, exposing the depth of your concern for Minho.

“Minho, please, you have a really high fever,” you plead, feeling an unexpected surge of panic at his unwillingness to cooperate.

“Yn… are you worried about me?”

“I am.”

“It feels nice. Please be worried about me more,” he mumbles, eyes still closed, eliciting an incredulous laugh from you.

“You are so unbelievable, my god,” you pull him up and he doesn't resist, nearly stumbling on his feet.

“Okay?” you ask, running your hand through the nape of his neck.

“Mm,” he hums, burying his head in your shoulder. “Sleepy.”

“I know, you'll sleep after the shower,” you reassure softly, guiding him to the bathroom, his entire body weight leaning onto yours. There, you turn on the light, your right hand holding Minho's waist tightly as you lead him to settle atop the toilet.

“Can I take off your shirt?”

“Are you planning to undress me?” he smiles lazily, hooded eyes locked onto yours.

“No, I just-” you stammer, but he’s quick to cut you off.

“Because I don't mind.”

“I can't believe you're flirting with me while you're sick.”

“I always am, I can't help it,” he says, raising his hands as a silent signal for you to remove his shirt.

“You're awfully candid tonight,” you observe, seizing the edges of his shirt and drawing it over his head. His tongue glides across his lips, his gaze drawing tantalizingly slow over your form, and you clench his shirt tighter in your hands. He's the one with the fever, yet it's you who feels ablaze, flames of longing licking at your every sense.

“Come here,” you beckon, the icy water now flowing as you turn the knob. He reaches his hand out to you, and you grasp it, guiding him under the frigid cascade, soaking you both.

“C-cold,” he stutters, and you nod, your breath escaping in short, visible puffs.

“I-I know, just a little longer,” you reassure.

2 a.m. is a peculiar time to shower, the water droplets echoing against the tiled floor is the only sound that can be heard. That, and your labored breaths in tandem with the chilly embrace of the water filling your bones. The quiet makes way for other unspoken sentiments to surge forth, electric and palpable, heightened by the way Minho gazes at you through the liquid curtain, his hands clinging tightly to your arms for stability.

Droplets of water weave seamlessly through his hair, and an unexpected pang of jealousy grips you— you envy the liberty of those water beads as they thread through his locks, tracing the contours of his broad shoulders, nestling in the enticing recesses of his collarbones, without fearing the consequences of such acts. You don't dare look further down, wary that the rivulets on his skin may lead to your own undoing. Instead, you close your eyes thanking the stars that you weren’t wearing a white shirt, which would have turned translucent by now. You don’t even want to contemplate the consequences of such a premise.

After a few minutes, you turn off the water, stepping out of the shower and swiftly enveloping Minho in a towel.

“Go change, I have some spare clothes in here. Oh, and don't wear a top,” you instruct.

Minho chuckles quietly and you roll your eyes. “Shh. Make sure to dry your hair too.”

Taking your time in getting dressed, you peel off each wet layer, depositing them into the washing machine, before donning a spare pajama from a cabinet. You stroll to the kitchen to pour Minho a glass of water and retrieve medicine from the drawer, lingering at the counter long enough to ensure he'd be dressed by the time you return to the room.

You knock softly before opening the door, and the sight of Minho freezes you in your tracks. The room basks in warm, orange hues from the lamp's glow, playing upon Minho's skin and casting enticing shadows on the contours of his muscles—a masterpiece created by the skilled hands of light. His toned arms rest between his legs, back against the headboard, and an inexplicable urge to flee washes over you, your heart sinking to your knees in the face of his long-avoided vision of beauty.

You swallow the tumultuous thoughts raging within you before handing him his medicine, which he drinks diligently. Pressing your palm to his forehead, you're relieved to find a slight reduction in his temperature. “It will go down more once the medicine takes effect,” you assure.

“One of my students had a nasty cold. I think I got it from him,” he explains, and you nod, your hand lingering near his. Your fingers twitch as his pinky brushes against yours—akin to birds fluttering their wings in anticipation, awaiting, aching for a release from their cage, at last.

“I'm tired,” Minho sighs, closing his eyes. “Lay down,” you gently instruct, and he complies, resting his head on the pillow.

“It's cold,” he whines, swaying like a child throwing a bedtime tantrum. He's endearing, melting the frost that had gathered in your heart.

“You have a fever, silly,” you chuckle, pushing strands of his hair from his forehead, twirling them around. “Your hair's gotten longer,” you muse as you braid a tiny section of his bangs, only to undo it again.

“Can you play with my hair some more?” he requests softly.

“Of course,” you reply, threading your fingers through his locks, jet black as if all the stars in the sky collided, leaving behind nothing but a dark abyss.

“Please stay healthy, Min. Take care of yourself too.”

“But I like it more when you take care of me,” he pouts, before sighing shortly after. “I'll probably regret a lot of my words tomorrow, right?”

“Why is that?”

“Because you don’t feel the same for me,” he confesses, leaving you silent, grappling with the echoes of his words. What do you feel for Minho?

The question jolts the breath from your windpipe violently, an unyielding force crashing against your lungs till the answer finds its footing on your tongue.

“Can I ask you something?” you finally speak, cringing at the sound of your voice disrupting the fragile quiet.

“Anything.”

“Where did your scar come from?” you inquire, gesturing towards the mark just below his belly button.

“I got surgery a long time ago. I’m kind of self-conscious about it,” he confesses, a bit shyly.

“Really? But it’s beautiful, it looks like a strike of lightning,” you sincerely remark, coaxing a tender smile from Minho, unfolding like the gradual sunrises of autumn.

“This is exactly what you told me months ago.”

“Did I?”

“Mm, and then you traced it with your fingertips,” he grabs your hand, hovering it over his stomach. You can easily slip out of his grasp; you choose not to.

“Like this?” you murmur, tracing his scar gently, fingertips grazing his skin like a lit fire, subtly enough not to scorch. His flesh tenses beneath your caress, muscles constricting as you navigate from right to left—a trajectory of dusty stars akin to the Milky Way, his skin soft to the touch, rippling beneath you with thinly veiled goosebumps.

“Yes,” he breathes out, his gaze wide, running furiously over your face. Yet, your attention lingers on his skin, shadows dancing across its surface, its honeyed hue a shade you wish to sear behind your eyelids. Your hands ascend and descend, mapping his body which blushes in response, as if his very being memorized your touch, imprinting your fingerprints onto its memory. You slide down his forearms, pausing over his fragile veins, seemingly offering you his life.

Silence envelops you, punctuated only by the weighty exhales escaping you both, for there are feelings that words cannot encapsulate, no matter how much human languages strive to, ultimately succumbing to the profundity of silence— the one language only souls comprehend.

Your hands ascend to his neck, thumb grazing the tender skin cradling his pulse. It resonates throughout your bones, echoing from his being to yours as if you’re harboring two lives within you.

“You… you could've kissed me over at the bridge,” you whisper, bringing to light the question that’s been lingering at the back of your mind. “Why didn't you?”

“I wanted you to kiss me because you wanted to. Not because you longed for our past or our future. I wanted you to want me in the present,” Minho explains, vulnerability seeping into his words, like honey melting into a warm cup of tea.

“I’m scared,” you admit, your voice a fragile murmur, even as your head leans forward, hair cascading around Minho’s face, enclosing him in an intimate curtain. Minho gently grabs your hand and cradles it against his cheek, pressing a tender kiss to the center of your palm.

“Right now. Do you want me?” he asks simply, offering himself openly to you.

Do you want him?

After a momentary pause, you tentatively lean in, planting a gentle kiss upon his forehead. A resonant exhale escapes him, as your lips trace a path along his cheeks, leaving behind a trail of tiny kisses. Moving to the tender skin beneath his eyes— as easily bruised as your emotions—you bestow soft pecks to it as if seeking forgiveness for every tear he shed in your name.

His eyes remained closed, his trust evident in the surrender of his being to you. The answer to your internal query is written all over his features— the hushed exhale escaping his body, the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the tranquility nestled between his eyebrows.

Yes. Yes, you do.

Your lips finally meet Minho’s in a delicate union, unmoving like rose petals folding onto one another. A surge of warmth emanates from the depths of your heart, coursing through your entire being like sunrays, submerging your soul in a tranquil white glow.

Leaning away ever so slightly, you press a tender kiss on his lower lip, enclosing it between your own. Your hand cradles his jaw, running gently through his damp strands. Your lips move against his slowly in a saccharine kiss, parting, only to meet again, in the same tenderness, perhaps a growing one as you become accustomed to the contours of his lips, to the languid moves of his mouth, following your rhythm. You were leading the dance, his lips mere puppets to your heart’s wishes. He didn't rush you, only allowed you to kiss him, whichever way you wanted.

A pause, a moment suspended in time, your hands trembling as they rest upon his cheeks, his palm hovering above your own, offering a comforting press. The gesture reassures you in your curiosity that won’t be satiated, urging you to seal your lips on his with a tentative fervor. The world outside dissolves into a distant murmur, the seconds blending into a timeless run, you slamming the door before your worries protesting at the entrance of your mind. Tomorrow, you’ll find the answers. Tonight, you are kissing Minho.

As you press a final, lingering kiss to his velvety mouth, visions of you at peace flood your being. You see yourself sinking into the warm pool of your aunt’s country club, you see yourself walking on the beach with sand molding to the contours of your feet, you see yourself laying on the grass while observing sunrays weaving through the trees. And then, amidst your most serene memories, the act of pressing your lips to Minho stands out, the warmth of his mouth against yours eclipsing all other sensations.

Leaning away, you rest your forehead on his shoulder, and Minho's hands cradle your hair.

"Which lip balm do you use,” you giggle against his bare skin, relishing in the sweet taste of his lips.

“Yours.”

Day 31.

Minho’s nose is buried in the crook of your neck, his arm draped across the expanse of your stomach. He sinks further into you, binding himself to your body, anchoring his hold on your being. You are warm, your skin is soft to the touch and Minho doesn’t want to wake up from this tender dream, akin to plummeting into a sea of silky pillows, falling into a blanket of clouds.

Except, he's awake, Minho realizes with a jolt. He blinks repeatedly, allowing the sunrays to stream to his eyes, his pupils dilating once they settle on you— so much their obsidian depths swallows the brown of his irises whole. You stir beneath his touch, making your cheek press upon the crown of his head. He's fully awake now, snatched from the velvet threads of his dreams made up of you, thrown into your arms once again after thirty-three days.

A soft gasp escapes Minho’s lips, the air stolen from his lungs as if it was yours to claim. Echoes of the night replay in his mind— a fever, you tending him to me, a cold cascade of water, you tracing his scar, and then, the kiss.

You kissed him. A long shiver runs down his spine at the memory, a subtle twitch that stirs you from slumber once again.

What does one kiss mean? The question dances wildly in Minho’s mind. More importantly, what do you want it to mean?

Minho whines softly, closing his eyes for a few seconds, relishing in the fragrance of your hair, in the serenity that floods his being each time he’s around you. This was his most restful slumber in weeks, because you were near, his mind recognizing you, relaxing underneath your touch, drifting to a mindless sleep.

Reluctantly, he untangles himself from you, a bittersweet departure from your arms. Work was calling his name.

He prayed you’d call his too soon.

….

You wake up to an empty bed, the only lingering trace of the night you spent being the tingling of your lips, as if aching to be kissed once again. You sigh, running a hand through your face. It was much easier to succumb to your heart’s wishes when it was late at night, when minho laid bare beneath your touch, so enticing in the gentlest of ways. When you were cradled by the moon’s soft glow, blanketed by the night’s cloak of darkness.

But it was light now, the sun was glaring as it streamed through the windows, exposing all the flawed ways of your mind.

What does one kiss mean?

Nothing, if it wasn’t minho who you had kissed. If it wasn’t as tender as the meeting of your lips.

The tomorrow you believed far quickly came, and you still beheld no answers. A few hours drifted by and you still knew nothing. What does this kiss mean? It's late afternoon and you’re strolling through the park nearby and you can't find an answer. The question rings in your mind as you sit by a bench, and you still don’t know.

“You seem preoccupied,” a voice quips up nearby and you startle. You hadn’t even noticed the man sitting by your side. His arms crossed before his chest, making impressive muscles constrict beneath the snug fabric of his black shirt, a cascade of fluffy black curls sat at the top of his head, a slight smirk etched on his lips.

“Pardon?”

“I said you seem preoccupied.”

“No i heard that,” you roll your eyes subtly, “do i know you?”

“No. You just look worried, that's all.”

“You really don’t know me?” you ask, a tad apprehensive, unsure if this was someone else your memory faulted you of.

“No? Are you a celebrity of some sorts?” he inquires, tone much more cheerful, angling his body towards you.

“No, i’m not,” you giggle, before quieting down, an exhausted sigh escaping your body. “Is it that obvious then?”

“Yeah. I’m afraid so,” he pouts sympathetically, tone almost desolate and you huff, burying your face in your hands.

“Do you need help with something?” he offers after a while, his concern evident in the frown of his brows. You are comforted by the anonymity of talking to a stranger, you were but a blank canvas to him. You wouldn't see him again, anyways.

“I feel lost. I can't seem to find the answers I'm looking for.”

“Maybe you’re just not asking the right questions.”

Oh.

The guy claps his hands suddenly, long before you could dwell on his words and their implications

“I actually have a question for you!”

“Ask away.”

“Do you want to go on a date with me?”

“No?” you chuckle, amusement dripping from your voice. “I don't know you?”

“That's the point of a date.”

“Are you this bored?” you smile, arching an eyebrow at him.

“I'm not bored. I just need to take my mind off things,” he shrugs, a slight smirk on his face. but you somehow see beyond it, right into the dull twinkle of his eyes. Maybe he also couldn’t find the answers he was looking for.

“So you're using me?” you fake outrage and he giggles, a high pitched sound that reverberates through the playground, making some kids nearby stare at you. You stifle a surprised laugh.

“I'm not using you if I tell you upfront why I asked you out.”

“You are right, but i decline your kind offer,” you say solemnly and he nods, shaking his head in defeat.

“Here is my card, in case you change your mind. Or need a little escape, call me,” he smiles, handing you a sleek black card before getting up and dusting his pants. “See you,” he says, as if he was sure you'd call him back. you stare in disbelief at his retreating figure, before glancing down at the card.

Mr. Seo Changbin, you read, CEO of Gold’s Gym— the largest gym branch in the country.

Oh wow.

The amused smile lingers on your lips as you gaze ahead, lost in thought, contemplating the words spoken by Changbin. Maybe he was right; perhaps you are afraid of asking the right questions. Sucking in a deep breath, you decide to take the longer route home, eventually finding yourself outside your favorite bakery; the one you discovered on one of your many walks with Minho.

You go to open its door when an unexpected tingling at the back of your neck freezes you in your tracks. Your heart tightens in your chest as you turn around slowly, greeted by the sharp eyes of two familiar faces—Lia and Mari, your coworkers from before your accident. A tentative smile graces your lips, but the alarms of warning in your mind intensify.

“Hey, yn!”

“Hey, guys,” you greet back, taking a step backwards from them.

“How have you been since… You know, your accident,” Lia pouts, but the question lacks sincerity, as if they were wearing masks before you, concealing their true intentions. You wonder which one they'll put on next.

“Good, i’ve been good,” you force a smile, as their eyes move up and down your body, judgment dripping from their gaze.

“We wanted to come see you but we didn’t know if you were still at your listed address. Since your boyfriend lives there.”

“Oh, um, yeah, I still live there.”

“But didn’t you forget about him?” Lia feigns ignorance and you feel anxiety picking at your skin like relentless protruding needles. You want to run.

“Lia that’s rude. I think he's her ex-boyfriend now," Mari chuckles, mockery palpable in her tone.

“Poor Minho, he must suffer a lot. Say hey to him from me,"Lia smiles, a chilling feline grin, her eyes narrowing down like a hawk peering at his prey.

“I will.”

“We’ll see you at work. If you’re still able to keep up with the tasks,” they leave, ugly laughs echoing after them, and an urge to throw up overtakes you, the scent of pastries furthering your nausea. You hasten your steps toward your building.

You’re almost safe, almost, keys trembling in your hand as you struggle to enter your apartment, when the door adjacent to you opens. Your neighbors smile at you, although it is a gesture tinged with pity. You painfully smile back before slamming the door.

Yeart hammering in your chest, you press your back against the door, hand clawing at your throat.

“Did you know she got into a car accident, and apparently she forgot her boyfriend?”

“Really? They were so cute though.”

“Yeah, it’s a shame.”

Their words suffocate you, stepping atop your lungs, syllables choking you from within. Is this what everything thought of you? Did they all pity you for the accident? For forgetting your lover? Did they see you as a burden, a parasite plaguing his life? Is this what Han and Chan saw when their eyes lingered on you? Is this what the librarian and florist whispered to each other each time you passed by?

You didn’t know these people and yet they had their minds set on you, fixated storylines you couldn’t change, no matter how much you tried to rewrite them.

Your thoughts spiral like the unloosened screws of a ticking clock. Minho, the unanswered questions, the expectations of others—everything converges in the base of your mind, making your ears ring cacophonically within your skull.

You slide down the door, fingers trembling as you take out your phone then Changbin’s card from your pocket. You dial his number with haste. You needed a breather, to talk to someone who knew nothing of you, of who you were, of who you could be.

“Hello?” his voice booms clearly through the phone.

“Changbin,” you breathe out. “Let's go on a date tomorrow.”

You were asleep when minho came back from work, your back turned towards him, soft exhales escaping your body. He didn't want to disturb you, so, he made sure to come earlier the next day, a strawberry and cream pastry in his hand that he knew you loved. Perhaps, you’d both talk about your kiss today, what it meant for you both.

But, he doesn’t find you home. The only indication that you had just left was the lingering scent of your perfume, tickling his nose as if to mock him. Poor minho— the gardenia and honey tones spelled out in the air; the one fragrance you strictly reserve for dates. The one you used to put for him.

It looked like you found your answer after all.

Day 33.

“Did I keep you waiting?”

“No, just in time,” you smile as Changbin pulls the chair in front of you, settling down with ease, a pang of confidence coloring his movements.

“How are you, today?”

“Better, i think,” you falter under his scrutinizing gaze, your facade cracking. “I don't know, it’s all complicated,” you sigh and he nods, signaling for the waiter to take your drinks order. Chai latte for you, hot chocolate for him.

“Spill, what’s preoccupying you?” he leans forward, arms crossed on the table.

“You don’t even know my name,” you giggle, looking around at the warm interior. Cozy, faint music playing in the background, taupe chairs and amber tables, the smell of cinnamon rolls wafting through the air. Minho would like it here.

“What's your name?”

“Yn.”

“Okay, Yn,” he emphasizes, a slight smirk on his face. “Spill.”

You shake your head as the waiter places down your drinks, wrapping your fingers around the heated cup, hoping the warmth would seep into your being through your palm lines.

“Did you want to become a therapist by any chance?” you muse, arching an eyebrow at him.

“No, it’s just fixing others' problems helps me forget my own,” he winks and you snort at his honesty. it was admirable, how frank he was to a complete stranger.

“Fine, it’s a long story, but basically…” you lick your lips, wondering what’s the best way to go on about this. “I got into a car accident and I lost my memory of the past year and so.”

Changbin winces at your words and you sigh. “Yeah. Except I was in a relationship before…”

“And you totally forgot about it?”

“I did. It hurt him a lot.”

Changbin nods in understanding, taking a sip of his drink. He places his chin on his palm, carefully eyeing you.

“But how does that make you feel?”

“Me?”

“Yes, you. You're the one who lost your memories after all.”

“I feel guilty for forgetting such a relationship.”

“Why is that?”

“Because everyday i can see why I fell in love with him.”

“And you don't love him now?”

“No,” you quickly say before pausing, shoulders dropping under the weight of your questioning. “I don't know. It's complicated.”

Changbin absentmindedly tugs at the charms of his bracelet, gaze flicking down to his wrist for a couple seconds, before locking on yours intently.

“Describe him to me in one sentence.”

“You sound like my annoying French teacher,” you roll your eyes and he huffs, not offended in the least. “Look, I just want to know my competition.”

“Do you have a retort for everything?”

“What can I say? I'm witty and all that,” he shrugs confidently and you giggle before quieting down, muling over his question. “In a sentence…” you muse, fingers drumming along your cup. You don't even realize that a fond smile has unfolded on your lips, but Changbin does.

“He's the light rain that falls during spring, that makes the flower bloom and the smell of earth waft through the air. He brings things back to life, in a way.”

Changbin smiles softly, tilting his head to the side. “Can you really not see it, or are you hiding the truth because you're scared?”

“What do you mean?”

“Yn, he brought you back to life.”

“I… no.” you pause, voice faltering. “Did he?”

You see Minho pushing you on a wheelchair to your home. Minho protecting you from your mind. Minho washing your hair. Minho making you tea. Minho baring his soul to you. Minho helping you cook. Minho bringing the sea to you. Minho holding your hand. Minho comforting you before comforting himself. Minho forgiving you so you'd forgive yourself. Minho devastating himself so you'd piece your heart together. Minho, minho, minho.

“Fuck, he did,” you whisper in realization, as a grand feeling swells in your heart suddenly, pushing your heart against the confines of your ribs. Flowers bloom into your entire body, petals melding into the coursing blood in your veins, butterflies fluttering their delicate wings across your chest, an effulgent light flooding in like the sun was spilled inside your very core.

“Aren’t I so smart,” Changbin grins, satisfied at the awestruck expression on your face.

“What should I do?” you ask anxiously, gripping the edges of the table.

“Go talk to him. Don't waste any more time.”

“You are right, oh my god,” you grab your purse, standing up abruptly. “I have to go, I…”

“It's okay, don't worry about me, I'm always the side chick,” he sighs in faux sadness and you giggle, swatting his shoulder.

“Thank you so much. I'll repay you for this, I promise!” you start walking before stopping and turning around.

“Oh and Changbin?”

“Yes?”

“You know what to do too. They made you that bracelet right? You haven't taken your eyes off of it.”

“Shut up,” he grumbles, “those are my lines.”

“They are mine now too,” Laughter dances from your lips as you flee the café, taking off running to your home. It was near, merely a five-minute walk, nestled beside the playground where you encountered Changbin. Yet, urgency propels your steps, a fervent need to reach Minho swiftly. You had wasted thirty-three days, three million seconds that could’ve been spent with Minho. You don’t know how many more breaths the universe might extend, what if the stars tire of your reluctance and blow the winds of his love to another soul? You couldn’t stomach it.

You climb up the stairs, chest heaving, breaths escaping your being in an erratic rhythm. you didn't even know what to say, your words remained unscripted, unsure of what confessions will spill forth when your eyes will meet Minho's. Yet, you're not worried. You know that whatever surfaces would be surging from your heart.

What you don’t anticipate is for an uncharacteristic silence to find you at home, the scent of your perfume faintly wafting into the air. Minho sat in the living room, a bag by his side, his head downcast. The cats watching you from the corner of the room.

A desert- dry sensation clings to your mouth, your tongue heavy as if crafted from lead. Your once vibrant excitement extinguishes, much like a match blown out, leaving only a lingering stench behind.

“Minho?”

“Yn,” he responds, eyes actively avoiding yours. “I was waiting for you. I... I'll be gone for a few days, a week at most.”

“What? Where to?”

“I already told my parents to come pick up the cats so you don't have to worry about feeding them. The fridge is stacked, so you-” his voice falters, “so don't worry about that either.”

“Minho... what-what are you saying?”

“I need time away, alone. I'm sorry, I tried, I tried so hard, Yn, but there is only so much I can take,” he whispers, and your heart shatters, tiny million pieces blown away by the wind.

“Minho, look at me,” you crouch before him, your hands resting on his knees. He still avoids your gaze.

“Minho, please,” you plead, and his eyes finally lock on yours. They glisten with tears, reflecting light akin to a celestial mirror.

“My heart hurts so much, but it's not your fault. Loving me once doesn't mean you'll love me again, and it's okay if you want to see other people. I just... I need to go somewhere, for a little. I need to make room for the pain because it's overwhelming me,” he confesses, his words eating at your insides. Was it too late? Have you lost him?

Minho gently takes away your hands before standing up. Fear overwhelms you as you watch his shoulders drop, his eyes glazing over the walls one last time. He will come back, but not here, not to you. He's bidding goodbye to the home and you because you killed his hope. He would leave everything behind but echoes of him that you'd be sentenced to hear alone, every day, every night.

“Minho,” you seize his wrist, “Minho, don't go.”

"Why?" he asks in the smallest voice you've heard from him. He's like a river cut off by a dam, yearning to run back home, to flow the way it used to, back to you. His heart rings loudly in his ears, pain overwhelming him, yet your touch calms him down. You are the knife and the medicine, the scorch and the cooling balm; you are everything at once.

“I'll make room in your heart, I'll take out all the bad weeds and start again. Just don't go.”

“What do you mean?” He's breathless, hope inflating in his heart, clouds parting to reveal the sun.

“I know things won't go back to the way they used to. I don't think I'll ever remember everything, but I want you to tell me,” there is a lump growing in your throat, but you push it away. Your voice breaks and cracks, yet you still speak. You need him to know.

“I want you to take me to all the places we've visited and then tell me how we fell in love in them. I want you to show me how I loved you,” your hand trails down his hand, intertwining your fingers with his, pulling him closer. “I want to learn you, what you like, what you hate, what makes you angry and what makes your heart flutter.”

“And I want to love you, not because you love me, but because my heart chose you," your hand travels up his arm, settling right down at his cheek. Your thumb swipes across his tender skin. “I choose you over and over again. It's you, Minho, it's always been you.”

“You want me again?” he says tentatively, eyes wide, pouring onto yours—your galaxy to love, to admire, to peer into for the rest of your life.

“I want you. Please don't go.”

“Swear it, please.”

Instead of ephemeral words, you softly press your lips to his, as you did last night. “I swear,” you whisper against his mouth. “I'm falling in love with you,” you peck his lips, hand snaking up against his neck, moving his mouth closer to yours. “Not falling,” you say, pressing your forehead to his, nuzzling his nose against your own. “I'm coming back. I'm coming home.”

“You came back to me,” he whispers, voice hoarse.

“I'll always do,” you promise, a grin overtaking your mouth. “Can you kiss me, Minho?”

Minho blinks in amazement, his eyes darting all over your face, each blink resembling the capture of an image. He's stitching this moment into his mind, the hue of your cheeks and the gleam in your eyes. He missed the way you're looking at him, the slight shiver running through you as he brushes his lips against your own, slowly savoring the feel of you so near. His hands find your jaw, cradling it softly, and then he kisses you, just like how he dreamed of doing for the past month.

The kiss is dizzying, far different from your previous one. You’re no longer grasping at elusive cigarette smoke, fleeting through the gaps between your fingers. You are no longer awaiting a beacon of remembrance to shine upon your mind. You have minho, and he's delicately nibbling your lower lip, eliciting a soft gasp from you. His tongue glides across the tingling expanse, soothing down the pang of hurt, asking you for more. You willingly give it to him in a fervent, whirlwind kiss, his hands finding solace in the curve of your waist, while yours become poets, weaving tales in his hair, tugging at his strands the way you've always yearned to.

It is muscle memory, to press your body against his, to gasp into his mouth, to match the rhythm of his tongue, the way it circles tantalizingly around yours, the way you groan against his mouth, as he briefly parts from you, his giggle a sweet prelude to meeting your lips once again with increased fervor. His tongue weaves words against the roof of your mouth— I missed you, I want you, I love you.

Minho snakes his hand around your lower back, guiding you back until his legs find the couch. He eases you down, fingers hooked through the loop of your jeans. You kiss him again, a cadence as natural as breathing. Time unravels, rewinding to mend the fractures in his heart, erasing thirty-three days of heartbreak in mere seconds. You kiss him, again and again, thirty three days of longing exploding in your touch.

“Are you crying?” you whisper against his lips, your thumbs delicately swiping across his damp cheeks. Unaware of his flowing tears, he closes his eyes, embarrassment coursing through him. “I'm here,” you reassure, peppering his face with kisses – from his ear to his nose, cheeks to the corner of his mouth. “I'm here, honey. I want you.”

“Only me?” he questions, tone fragile.

“Only you,” you kiss him again, tenderly, inhaling life through his lips. “Let me show you how much, hm?”

Your lips trace a path down his neck as you draw his shirt over his head. An ivory canvas, he is meant for you to mark, to touch however you desire. Your lips graze the scar on his stomach, kissing it in the way you've ached to do since two nights before.

You're sinking to your knees before him and yet you’re the one in control, rippling shivers all over his skin. He’s impatient, needing you close, so he quickly pulls you up, before hovering over you, his hands drawing everywhere, running wild across your body. He missed the plush feel of your skin, the contours of your body that he yearned to explore once again. He's a prisoner deprived of the light for so long, sinking into the sun once again.

Minho's eyes never leave yours, as he touches you, moves in you in ways your soul seems to remember. He's gentle, removing strands of your hair out of your eyes, smoothing down the side of your head. All encompassing, drinking in your moans and groans, burning you up and soothing you all at once. “Good?” he asks, again and again, waiting to hear your affirmation before picking up speed again. Your answer is yes each time he asks, as he seals the void in you, the one he's been carefully stitching up for the past weeks. You store his glazed eyes and scrunched eyebrows in the gallery of your mind, you make room for new memories with Minho.

You're overwhelming him, in the most beautiful ways, contradicting feelings coursing through him like a rain flood. He's aching yet relieved to have you beneath him, lost in waves of pleasure so he grabs your hand to anchor himself, entwining his fingers with yours, before bringing it to his mouth, placing a tender smile on your palm. You beam at him, trust reflecting in your eyes as you bare your being to him. It is a rare fortune to be chosen by you not once, but twice, he can't believe how lucky he is to have you as his guiding star.

Your eyes never leave Minho’s, a shimmering pool mirroring your emotions. You see everything you feel in him—your better reflection. You had missed him, you were home now. “Miss you,” he whispers as he buries his face in your neck, seemingly hearing your thoughts. “Missed you so much,” he mumbles as your hands tangle in his hair, tears descending gently upon your cheeks, as they are on his. “Please don't leave me again.”

“I won't- I won't,” you promise, as light floods your vision, reaching the pinnacle of your pleasure. Colors burst before your eyes in a kaleidoscope, resembling shades of Minho— the warm brown of his eyes, the honeyed hue of his skin, the pink tint of his ears whenever he's embarrassed, the red of his lips, swollen as they kiss you. Tonight and tomorrow and every day after this one.

Day 1.

In the hushed aftermath, your head rests upon Minho’s bare chest, listening to the quiet rhythm of his heartbeat, calming down as the seconds trickle by. His arm curls around your body protectively, keeping you from slipping off the couch. Your knuckles trail up and down his shoulders, soothing the places where you had scratched too hard. His hand seeks yours, delivering a kiss as tender as the silence enveloping you—quiet and secure. The forgotten past doesn't matter; you will rewrite your story once more.

“Do you think our designated stars are sad somewhere far away?”

“Why would they be?”

“I don't know. Don't you think it's bittersweet how they missed out on so many days of loving one another?”

“I don't know, did they?” he muses, planting a tender kiss on your shoulder. “I think mine loved you all the same.”

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wwilsonbarness · 2 years ago

Text

hello? Mr. Pickle?

pairings: bucky barnes x reader

summary: Bucky struggles with modern technology, especially autocorrect.

warnings: none, pure fluff

word count: 495

a/n: When I was writing i can’t do this anymore my autocorrect changed doll to dill and so this was born - also my first drabble? Huge thanks to @hopelessromantic423 for the title suggestion <33

Feedback, likes and reblogs are much appreciated :)

I do not give permission for my work to be copied, reposted or translated on any other platform.

masterlist

From across the room you could hear your phone vibrating so you made a mental note to check it once you finish this chapter of your book. It buzzed again and you debated going over to it but you only had two pages left. Then it buzzed 3 more times, straight after each other. This was when you decided it must be important so you got up and started walking over. It buzzed another two times as you walked over and you started to panic, it could’ve been an emergency. When you saw the messages on your screen you couldn’t help but burst into laughter. It was Bucky who was messaging you.

Buck

I’m just leaving. What do you want for dinner dill? dill** dill** This stupid fucking phone. DILL** DILL DILL** Fuck sake I’m phoning you

You only just finish reading the last message when your phone begins to ring and you try to compose your laughter enough to answer.

“Hey Buck, or should I say Mr Pickle?”

“Ha Ha.” He replies sarcastically, “I take it you seen my texts. Stupid phone never works.”

“It’s just not used to your 40’s lingo babe.” You teased, you were always kidding with him about how much of an old man he was. Not in the way of his literal age but the way he lived, he hated using new technology, he hated social media, and you don’t even want to think back on the time you tried to make him watch a reality show. He tried liking all the modern parts of the world but he missed the old days where things were a lot simpler. He was just glad he had you to help him through it.

“Yeah well it’s lucky I didn’t throw it out the car.” You hear him mumble something along the lines of “piece of crap” and it makes you giggle. “It’s not funny doll.”

“It’s kinda funny.”

“I hate you.” He jokes.

“No you don’t.” You manage to reply through your laughter.

“You’re right I don’t. So what do you want for dinner?”

You take a second to think, “I’m kinda craving cheeseburgers.”

“I could do a cheeseburger, I’m near that burger place anyways.”

“Could you get some fries too? Oh! And a milkshake? The one with the oreo pieces? Please.” He couldn’t see but your pouty lip had come out.

“Anything you want doll.”

“Thanks babe, how long do you think you’ll be?”

“Should be like 20 minutes, do you wanna watch something while we eat?”

“You read my mind! I’ll set it up in time for you coming home.”

“Okay, won’t be long. Love you.”

“Love you too.” Bucky’s about to hang up before you quickly start speaking again. “Bucky?”

“Yeah?”

“Could you get me extra pickles on my burger?”

You hear him scoff a little then laugh, “I’m hanging up now.”

“Byeee.” You trail off until the call ends. You were never gonna let him live this one down.

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melancholyhigh · 2 years ago

Text

LATE NIGHT CALLS.

ft. leon x coworker!reader

synopsis. leon misses you so he gives you a call.

content. smut. 1.3k words. phone sex, leon's pov, needy leon, masturbation, dirty talk, praise kink, mommy kink.

note. hello?? thank you guys for 700 followers!! i haven't even figure out what i wanted to do for 500 as yet. i appreciate all of you guys so much <33

masterlist. i love feedback & reblogs :3

Leon huffs as he lies in his bed. He can’t help but think about you.

He wonders what you’re up to. It was midnight the last time he checked, and you’re probably working on a case. He doesn’t like when you’re up late, coming to work the next day with exhausted eyes and greeting him with a tired smile. Maybe he should check up on you like you always did for him.

He didn’t want to disturb you, though. But he needed you so badly.

Glaring at his phone on the bedside table, he thinks about how he’d explain himself for calling you in the dead of night.

I really fucking need you. Leon thinks to say, but that might be too straightforward.

He regrets not talking to you after getting back from his mission. It wasn’t his fault. It was the one thing he looked forward to doing. Leon knew you’d greet him with the biggest grin on your face even though your brows were etched with worry when you asked him if he was alright.

Good job, agent. You would praise. You’re amazing. You know that?

It’s the exact words you uttered that one night. The entire mission was blurry, except for the sweet phrases you let slip as you comforted him.

The both of you were stationed at a rundown motel for the night, awaiting further instructions. He vaguely remembers that there was one bed, and you persisted for him to take it.

“You always have a stick up your ass, Kennedy?” you mused. “You need rest. You’re giving yourself a hard time.”

Leon had rolled his eyes before giving in, resting on the rock-hard mattress before succumbing to slumber. It has been mainly calm — as peaceful as a crusty motel can be until he recalls you waking him up, concern lacing your voice.

He felt the tears in his eyes slipping down his face, and then it hit that he had a nightmare. Leon inwardly cringes at the memory, grateful he doesn’t recall the dream. It felt so childish, a nightmare. But at that point, you didn’t care.

He was so weak and vulnerable, and you tended to him. You sat with him, talked to him, and told him everything would be alright. The recollection has heat blooming within his chest.

From then on, the relationship between that you and him changed. You’re closer, and he’s honestly disappointed that it took so long for him to acknowledge you.

–-

Leon sighs. Why did most nights end up with him thinking of you? It had been worse since he was away for a few weeks. He feels neglected even though you owe nothing to him.

He lets his mind wander, thinking about your touch featherlight along his body. He allows his hand to trail to his tummy, abs flexing, as he mimics how you would touch him or how he wishes you would handle him.

Leon gasps softly, palming his hardening cock through the confines of his boxers. His eyes squeeze shut, and his other hand squeezes his pec.

Fuck it. Grabbing the phone off the bedside table, Leon dials your number, placing his phone to his ear. After a few rings, you answer.

“Hey, Leon, everything okay?” your ask, your voice soft, and you’re clearly exhausted. He feels wrong for calling, but his need outweighs his morals.

“‘M good. I just wanted to talk to you,” Leon says, trying to keep his voice from faltering. He hears a laugh from the other side and the rustling of your blanket, he assumes.

“It’s late. You should be getting your beauty sleep, pretty boy.”

Leon scoffs, hypocrite. Though the way you mutter the pet name has him breathless.

“I miss you,” he grumbles, eyes squeezing shut again.

“Oh, really?” The tone is teasing, and he imagines that’s what you’d say when he’s pleading for your touch.

“Yeah– can you tell me how your day was? Talk to me, please?”

“Uh, okay, Leon. Are you sure you’re alright, though?”

“I’m fine! J- just keep talking, please.”

You were thoughtful, asking him if he was alright, but he’s selfish. Getting off to your voice because he was so fucking horny for you.

“Well, my day was pretty bad. My week, actually. It felt like something was missing, ya know?” You sigh.

“Uh-huh,” Leon responds, not even sure what you said.

His body is so fucking warm. It feels like he’s burning. Not just from arousal but the guilt that lies with him as he shamelessly pulls his boxers down, his dick swollen as it slaps his stomach.

The guilt washes away when you tell him you missed him too. Blood runs straight to his cock as he moans loudly. He hasn’t even touched himself as yet.

Your thoughts are cut short, and there’s a beat of silence as you gather yourself.

It’s over. Leon thinks.

“Leon? Are you touching yourself?” you questioned. You sound confused, not mad, and he wonders if there’s not enough blood pumping to his head. He doesn’t know how to respond.

“Is that why you called me at one in the morning? Pretty baby just wanted to cum.” You mock, and fuck does it go straight to his cock.

“I needed you so badly,” Leon exasperates. He got onto his tummy, burying his head into his pillow and rutting his hips into the mattress. His precum dripped onto the sheets of his bed.

“Mhm, did you come as yet, pretty boy?” your whisper.

“N- no, mommy.” It slips out, and he can’t help it. Gosh, can he embarrass himself even further?

“Oh? Did you want mommy to help you, Leon? It’s okay, baby,” you sigh before instructing, “Want you to stroke your pretty dick f’me, honey.”

He shifts onto his back again, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he grasps the shaft and gradually tugs it. Soft groans escape him as precums oozes out the tip, leaking onto his tummy.

“I wish it was your hand, mommy,” Leon whimpers. He’s so far gone. He had wished for moments like these where he’d be yours, though he hoped for different circumstances.

“Me too, baby. I’d take my time with you,” you mumbled breathlessly. He wonders if you’re touching yourself. Rubbing your puffy clit as you listen to him whine in your favour, your cunt stuffed with your fingers.

He increases his pace, pumping his aching cock faster. He’s so loud, and he’d be embarrassed if you weren’t encouraging him to be louder.

“You sound so sexy, Leon. I can’t wait to have you.” How were you going to have your way with him? Maybe you’ll stroke his cock like he’s doing, pinching his nipples, sucking on them til they're abused and red. He hopes you’ll ride him, bouncing on his cock for pleasure, not letting him come once.

Sloppily fucking his fist now, his head tilts back into the pillow, his hair sprawled out, and his phone is next to his ear as he listens for your quiet moans.

He can’t wait to get his hands on you, sucking on your tits or clit, as you ride his face until utter bliss.

“Come for me, Leon. Come as if you’re inside of me.”

“Holy shit.” Leon groans, the knot inside his tummy snapping as he spurts his cum out, trickling onto him as he rides his orgasm out.

You’re still on call as Leon breathes heavily, trying to collect himself. You break the silence.

“Wish I could’ve seen you coming,” you huff out. “Bet you look even prettier.”

“Did you touch yourself?” Leon asks in disbelief, cleaning himself off with the box of tissues near his bedside table.

“How could I not? You had me dripping. I have to change my sheets now.” you joke, and Leon blushes, grateful you can’t see him. He couldn’t believe he had such an effect on you.

“Can I take you out sometime?” Leon asks nervously. He hopes this doesn’t change the relationship you shared for the worse just because he was a horny mess.

You giggle, and he swears it’s the most gorgeous sound ever.

“Sure thing, baby. Where do you plan to take mommy, hm?”

You weren’t going to let him live that down won’t you? Not that he minds, of course.

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #re4 remake #resident evil 4 #leon kennedy x you #leon s. kennedy #leon kennedy smut #resident evil 4 remake #resident evil #leon kennedy resident evil #resident evil smut #reader insert #smut #re4 smut #re4 #✩‧₊˚ fics

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niki-phoria · 6 months ago

Text

touch, touch, 심장이, blush, blush, 두 볼이 / rush, rush, 뜨거워져

pairing: kim gyuvin x gn!reader (no pronouns used) genre: fluff word count: 597

notes: whoever pointed out that gyuvin looks like song kang ily, this is kinda bad i'm sorry, reader is a uni student bc so am i but i tried to make it nonspecific, not proofread !! pls forgive any mistakes <33 title from zerobaseone - melting point

KIM GYUVIN lets out a quiet sigh as he buries his head against the crook of your neck. stray strands of his dyed hair tickle against the skin of your neck, sending shivers racing down your spine at the ticklish feeling. “hi gyu,” you say, allowing him to lean against you as much as he wants.

he all but melts into you when you wrap your arms around his waist. his knees press into the cushion of your couch, cautious about leaning too much of his body weight against your chest. the tension in his body escapes in waves, allowing the weight of the world to momentarily slip away from his shoulders. “long day?”

“yeah,” gyuvin mumbles. his voice is muffled against the fabric of your hoodie; his breath ghosts against your skin. “i was having trouble with the choreography all day.”

you hum, slowly beginning to rub your hand against his back. your nails gently scratch against the fabric, tracing miscellaneous shapes against his spine. “do you want to talk about it?”

there’s a short pause before gyuvin answers. your hand never ceases in massaging against his back, patiently awaiting his response. “no,” he finally murmurs, choosing to shake his head instead. “i’ll ask hanbin hyung for help later.”

“okay,” you nod, though he can’t see it. you count the seconds along with the slow rise and fall of his breathing. a comfortable silence overtakes your apartment, only interrupted by the quiet turning of your ceiling fan and the occasional hum from your refrigerator.

gyuvin’s hands slip down to rest against your hips. he drums his fingertips along to an imaginary beat along your waistband. “tell me about your day,” he says quietly, breaking the previous silence.

“my day was good.” gyuvin smiles softly in response. he leans in, pressing a chaste kiss against your neck; you recognize it as a signal to continue. “i passed that exam i was worried about. you were right, i shouldn’t have stressed so much about it.”

he chuckles quietly, making your lips quirk into a smile of your own. gyuvin shifts slightly so his head is leaning against your chest.

“and i finished my essay,” you continue. “i need to proofread it again before i submit it.”

“i’ll help you with it,” gyuvin says. he yawns softly, settling his head against your shoulder. “if you want, of course.”

“that would be great. thank you.”

he hums quietly. his grip around your waist slowly begins to relax as his eyes flutter shut in longer and longer increments. gyuvin’s fingertips ghost against your waist as he skims his thumb against your bare skin. you shiver at the contact, though he doesn’t seem to notice.

“y/n,” he murmurs. tired eyes meet your gaze when you turn to face him. he seems to shine beneath the gentle glow of the setting sun as he smiles softly. “you know i love you, right?”

a light flush spreads across his cheeks when you chuckle. his eyes flutter shut when you reach up, carefully pushing his bangs away from his eyes. “of course i do.”

gyuvin raises his head just enough to press a chaste kiss against your cheek. his lips just barely brush against your skin, leaving the hint of his cherry chapstick behind. he smiles brightly, leaning his head against your chest once again.

you raise your hand from its place against his back, carefully carding your hand through his hair. gyuvin quietly sighs when you twist the strands between your fingertips; your nails gently massage his scalp. “i love you too, gyu.”

if you liked this fic, please comment, reblog, or leave feedback !! and if you want to support me, check out my zb1 masterlist <33

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aajjks · 2 years ago

Text

X = Ex. (m)

synopsis. He was fucked, but it was you, at least.

pairing: yandere!oc x fem!reader

warnings. yandere, extremely masochistic tendencies, delusional behaviour, bitchy Yn, obsessive thoughts and behaviour, jealousy.

note. manifesting Ezekiel fanart soon <33 enjoy! please talk to him n share feedback 😭💌

check out the first instalment. x

He can’t stop obsessing over you,

There you are, laughing away with your friends, he’s hiding behind his locker, yet his eyes are focused on you, you are majestic to look at.

Ezekiel is lost in you, he doesn’t understand what is so funny but the way you laugh, your teeth on display, your eye’s crinkled, you make his heartbeat rise.

Even just the sight of you makes him feel so special, for him it’s just you and him, you don’t laugh like that around him though,

It’s merely a fantasy of his that will never come true.

This laugh of yours is almost angelic, he can hear it, but he loves it more when you laugh in a mocking way, especially when he’s the target of it.

Only with him.

He feels his toes curl at the thought, his cheeks heat up, you’re so cruel but only with him.

He loves you for that, because it makes him feel so special, he’s your special boy, Ezekiel inhales a deep breath to contain his composure.

You make him so weak. He loves the feeling.

you’ve finally forgiven him too, even if it was hard to get you to, Ezekiel was so glad that he could be near you again,

Oh he loved to be near you.

He had fucked you so hard after all, the burns of your nails was still fresh, but it wasn’t enough to sustain his desires.

He wished that you would push him in one of the bathrooms and fuck him mercilessly.

Oh, he wanted you so bad.

“Ezekiel?” A voice calls out and the man shake out of his mind, Ezekiel almost curses as he turns his back at you to see who interrupted his day dreaming,

His smile falters.

“Whatever the fuck are YOU doing here?” He grabs her hand and drags her to the empty ground with him, his steps are fast, the woman doesn’t struggle at all.

She only follows behind him.

“What do you mean, Kiel?? This is a college. I’m surprised to see you here.” He halts and a familiar face stands in front of him.

“Why? I study here.” He rolls his eyes at her, all of his excitement was ruined thanks to his ex girlfriend.

“Maya….. fuck off.” He tells her off but the woman smiles, Ezekiel feels like throwing up. It’s too much, he’d rather be inside the halls, staring at you and day dreaming.

“Don’t be so mean, Kiel…. We’ll be seeing each other often now… and who was the girl you were hawking at huh?”

He clicks his tongue. “We broke up, get over it. And don’t you dare talk about her. None of your business!” He almost frowns as he leans close to her,

She makes him feel sick.

“I’ll find out eventually,” Maya, his ex replies, a smirk on her lips as she crosses her arms around her chest. “I missed you, babe.” She whispers.

Ezekiel rolls his eyes at her and pushes her away, “I have to leave.” He looks around and feels relieved for the first time in his at the bell ringing.

But his relief dies down quickly when he spots you looking visibly pissed, leaning against the pillar of the building,

Your cold eyes set on him.

He gulps.

He was fucked.

#yandere x reader #yandere smut #yandere oc x reader #dom!reader #yandere oc #male yandere #obsessive love #yandere imagine #dom reader #oc x reader #smut #yandere au #masochist yandere #yandere fic #soft yandere #yandere ff #dom!fem!reader

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gluion · 8 months ago

Text

four-letter word ➵ myung jaehyun

myung jaehyun x gn!reader

you’d go anywhere so long as jaehyun’s there

genre/warnings ➵ friends to lovers, fluff, kissing, loser!jaehyun, reader is around the same height as jaehyun, minimal plot just vibes

word count ➵ 1k words

a/n ➵ me and my obsession with the beach... i don't even like it that much (yup so self-insert) anyway, making my offical debut in onedoorblr!!! please accept me… i love bonedo so much they have been taking up my life and my delusions so badly </3 i love this loser so much and i love writing loser bonedo!!! so if u guys do like that, i have an upcoming loser!leehan fic as well :33 if you enjoyed this, please do reblog and leave feedback!

want to be part of my taglist? send me an ask! masterlist

there were many reasons behind your dislike for the beach; the scorching heat that makes you itch, the sand that clings on wet feet, and the salt water that stings your cheeks. with every beach trip you were seemingly forced to go on, you’d prefer to stay away from the shore.

yet, you find yourself by the sea—wearing an oversized jacket and shoes—watching the dim, cloudless sky with jaehyun. fingers interlocked. synched heartbeats.

you look over at him and see him staring off into nowhere as he breathes in the salt air, and you wonder what’s rummaging through his mind.

it’s been two years since jaehyun came into your life, at a party you don’t even recall who hosted. with a goal to refill your cup, you stumbled upon the boy who was mixing up drinks for his friends. you were going to wait until he let go of the vodka, throw in that liquor with any chaser you could find in the kitchen, but there was a moment where his laughs died down—and his wide eyes settled on you. they shine like the sea that glistens on a sunny day, and you can’t help but hope to witness it once more.

that night was only the start. for a series of smiles. for the quiet exchanges of laughter. for a warmth that would accompany for you a lifetime—only if you let it.

over the course of knowing jaehyun, you learned of a boy past the grins and silly antics. beyond the extroverted persona is a boy who lives by the four-letter word: care. every action he makes is one done with such purpose. if he were to crack a joke, it’s done to uplift the mood. if he were to scold his friend, it’s done to look over their wellbeing.

if he were to hold your hand, during the colder season at a place you didn’t like, it’s done to keep you warm. to hold you close. to tell you, thank you for coming with me. to show you how much of the four-letter word he had stored in himself—all for you.

and you don’t know why it took you so long to accept it. all the nights you two spent at his place with arms interlocked. times when he joined you in shopping for groceries. the moments where you two allowed yourselves to simply exist.

yet, he waited.

patiently.

without a second thought, you close the distance between you two—your lips meeting his cheek—for only a second, and jaehyun’s calm expression morphs into shock. his shoulders still as his mouth parts open. once you giggle, jaehyun looks back at you, and he crumbles. he faces down to the sand beneath his feet, knees bent, but he continues to hold your hand.

“why?” you ask as you crouch beside him. with his flustered reaction, you can’t hold back your giggles. so you close the distance once more, this time kissing the tips of his ears that have gone red, and he yelps. you laugh once more before asking again, “why?”

before you know it, he looks up from the sand, his shocked expression threatening to turn into a smile. you both know that he can’t hide how he feels about what you did, so he pulls his hand away from yours as he stands up straight. for a moment, you frown in confusion until he bolts into nowhere.

you try to chase after him. “jaehyun! what are you doing?!” still, he continues to run as squeals leave him.

jaehyun’s reaction is a reminder of how much of the four-letter word he has in store for you—a testament to his love for you.

you find yourself getting tired, pants starting to escape you, so you give up on trying to catch him. as he spots your steps faltering, he runs towards you. his arms wrap around you, holding you close so you can bask in his warmth for you.

“you can’t just do that and expect me to be normal about it,” he points out which only causes you to laugh.

“who says i wanted you to be normal about it? you know i like it when you’re a loser,” you move your lips close to his, and his eyes turn wide over the distance, “especially for me.”

and he can’t hold back his smile. because he knew from the moment his eyes landed on you that he would do anything to make you laugh. to have you rest. to let you feel the warmth of his love.

unfortunately, that only became clear to you now, but jaehyun wouldn’t have it any other way.

he beats you to it, his lips meeting yours. his hand reaches for your neck and his thumb draws circles over your cheek. the action feels familiar to you, almost like you’ve kissed him before—but he explores you like he’s waited a lifetime for this moment. to drink you up like the remnants of wine at the bottom of the barrel. your head starts to spin over how soft his lips are. the brush of his nose against yours only has you breathing him in, and he can’t help but want more. his breathing turns short, almost like a fire would start in his lungs, but he can’t imagine letting you go.

it’s a kiss out of desire. out of yearning. out of contentment.

you pull back, trying to catch your breath as you lean your forehead against his. an exchange of laughter leaves you two before you meet his eyes once more. they shine the same way you first met him. it’s funny how they resemble a piece of a place you hate, but it’s the one thing you can’t deny its beauty.

and maybe you’ll continue to dislike the beach for all the same reasons. all the times you found yourself uncomfortable from the heat and sand remind you of why you would never like going to the beach.

but this place is an exception. you’ll go to any place so long as jaehyun is there.

taglist: @kflixnet @blankjournal

#works of moni #kflixnet #bjnet #k-labels #boynextdoor #myung jaehyun #myung jaehyun x reader #myung jaehyun fluff #boynextdoor x reader #boynextdoor fluff #myung jaehyung imagines #boynextdoor imagines

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pirateprincessblog · 4 months ago

Text

𝐋𝐈𝐁𝐈𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐄

( 𝟎.𝟏 ) 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲.

𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨:

normal is good. it's safe. it isn't risky. and yet, normal is boring. normal job, normal family, normal relationship. makes you yawn just while reading, doesn't it? escaping it can cost a fortune, even if it is for a short, fun amount of time. when it gets bad, you don't get to regret. you don't get to complain. you don't get to cry. you don't get to go back. you wanted it. now bear the losses of your own decisions. you'll wish for things to get boring again. you'll wish to never feel an ounce of excitement again. you'll wish to be wrapped in your safety bubble, with your safe little family, safe little job, and safe little partner. and it just won't come.

!𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬! 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞: 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: park seonghwa x oc (alice dawson) x jung wooyoung 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.4k 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: dilf!hwa, collegestudent!wooyoung, love triangle, dilf trope, eventual smut, angst, fluff 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: yet to come

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: mentions of illness, mentions of drug abuse, mentions of domestic violence, MINORS DNI (18+) 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: this series will be around 10-15 chapters :) please don't hesitate to leave feedback! thank you for reading <33 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐲.

were you ever afraid of thinking about something risky while surrounded by people?

if yes, alice knows exactly how you feel. behind the dusty wooden counter, she hides a book. her eyes abandon the words she has read a dozen times this year already, checking if anyone is giving her weird looks. her thoughts are a loud mess, and she fears that one of those hard-working students might secretly have super hearing powers and is judging her right now. but when she notices no side eyes, her gaze drops on the worn-off pages again. this book set cost her a fortune, and it already looks like it has been through at least two major historical events. heaven forbid that her mother knows how much money she spent on that.

her heart beats faster with each word she reads, fingers excitedly flipping the pages, even though she knows all the plot twists, all the foreshadowing, a few little plot holes that only a small number of people have noticed. she wishes she could read it all for the first time again. the storyline, the characters, the villains, the twists, the tension, the steam. alice's favourite part in all the books. the steamy pages, written by her favourite author, making her sigh and roll in bed late at night as she reread them. sleepless nights spent with her eyes unfocusing and blurring out the words, her thoughts drifting away from the storyline and creating one of her own, using the very same characters. she would sit like that, fantasising, until a sound from the street would bring her back to the original story.

last night was similar, which is why she is barely keeping her eyes open while skimming over the room, checking for odd glares one more time. when she finds none, she continues daydreaming. the villain of the book has captured her heart, no matter the bad things he has done throughout the journey. she might just have a thing for evil, sassy, good-looking men. or she might have a thing for imaginary men with tongue skills.

"ah, your daily dose of porn, i see."

alice looks up, startled. she closes the book, throwing it in the already opened drawer and shuts it with a loud thud, making a few heads turn. the face standing above the counter chuckles, eyes turning into crescent moons as he does so.

"hush!"

"oh, relax. you have like three couples doing no-nos back there in the criminal section. your little mediocre book is nothing compared to them."

the girl furrows her eyebrows. her book wasn't mediocre. it was a masterpiece.

"what did you want?" she asks, annoyed with his teasing this early in the morning.

"i can't come and greet my favourite redhead in town?" the young man asks, his lips still in a teasing smile.

"not if you're going to be loud and disrupt. this is a library, not a bar."

"ha-ha. i forget just how witty my girlfriend is." he rolls his eyes. "luckily, you're pretty to make up for your lack of sense of humour."

"and your humour makes up for your lack of pretty." she tries to poke back, but it just doesn't sound right.

the young man laughs, sincerely, and rests his elbows on the wooden surface.

"you're cute when you try. you'd be even cuter if you were to join me in one of those horror sections. you know, to read. i love me some stephen king. i also love me some puss-"

"shut up, oh my god." alice hushes him, feeling her cheeks starting to burn from embarrassment.

"oh, come on. you haven't been over to my place in days. weeks even, i think."

"wooyoung," she exhales.

"yeah, sorry." the young man suddenly remembers, then scratches his neck from the little uncomfortable situation he has created. "how is your mom?"

"she has lost a lot of hair." alice says, eyes drifting towards the big library windows. "she has also lost a lot of weight. she still refuses to eat. she has already given up on herself."

wooyoung sighs, seeing his girlfriend show different emotions than last week. she has become numb to the whole situation. her mother has been sick for a very long time, and no amount of doctors, medicine, and persuading could convince her mother to start taking care of herself when alice wasn't around. now, alice has given up. she is angry with her mother, and that doesn't allow her to feel sad or bad for her.

"want me to come with you next time you visit her?"

"that would be today."

"yes, sure. of course. just tell me when."

"i finish at two, when rae arrives. i'll wait for you by the car?"

"i'll be there as soon as my classes are over. promise." wooyoung smiles at her.

there's a brief moment of silence, giving space for both of them to think. alice's mind went from fantasising to worrying, and wooyoung hates that he reminded her of the situation and changed her mood.

"baby?" he calls.

she hums, still a little absent.

"you haven't kissed me today."

alice looks at her boyfriend, heart swelling with guilt. her face drops, and wooyoung's eyes widen seeing her saddened expression.

"i'm so sorry," she says, voice almost a whisper.

"oh, no, no! baby, i just- hey, it doesn't matter. i'm sorry, okay? you're going through something tough, and my behaviour isn't quite helping. i'm being a dick."

alice stands up, hands gently cupping her boyfriend's face. her eyes examine his face, taking in his pretty features. she didn't mean what she said earlier, and she knows that he knows too. she smiles softly at him, assuring him that everything is fine and there is no need to apologise.

"i love you." she whispers.

and just like that, wooyoung softens in her hands, lips melting into hers as he finally kisses her for the first time in three days. it has become hard to catch her since she started working, especially since she runs to the hospital whenever she gets a chance. other times, she prefers laying in bed with little to no lighting, doing nothing but laying down and thinking of a way out of what her life has become.

wooyoung wishes he could help her. but what can he do, when they both refuse his help? he now realises where alice's stubbornness comes from. he smiles into the kiss, thinking about her stubborn nature combined with her impatience. she is a little handful, but she is his handful. and he will hold her until his last breath.

༺═━─━────༺༻────━─━═༻

while people tend to hate hospitals, alice likes it. it brings her comfort, knowing that the people around her are in charge of saving lives. she often visited hospitals as a toddler, due to often sickness. she is very prone to colds, and wooyoung has found himself getting mad at her very often because she refuses to wear a jacket when needed.

"but my outfit won't be visible!" she'd complain.

"i don't care. your kidneys are more important than a crop top. and i can't have you with a runny nose again. you know you have a hard time breathing as it is, the cold only makes everything worse."

"you just know it all, don't you?" she'd say, annoyed, while her fingers work the zipper of wooyoung's jacket.

jung wooyoung doesn't have any plans for the future, other than hopefully marrying alice and creating a family with her. he is a college student, yes. but only because his parents forced him to. he doesn't know what he wants in his life. alice is smart. she also doesn't know, so she simply didn't go to college. smart decision. it is crazy expensive, and managing those costs and the costs of healing her mother would be a disaster.

"ms dawson?"

alice stands up, rubbing her eyes sleepily.

"dr clark, good day." she greets, smiling weakly.

"it certainly is a good one, ms dawson. your mother is finally showing improvement!"

alice stands still, not believing what she's hearing. wooyoung notices her lack of response, and gently takes her hand in his, hoping to shake her awake.

"what do you mean?" she asks.

"she ate everything she was offered today, and she took her medication. and yes, we checked under the bed and in the flower vase, there weren't any hidden pills."

"oh, well... that's great."

the sudden change in her mother's behaviour was suspicious to alice. still, she felt relieved. with a thankful smile and a nod towards the young dr clark, the girl took her usual path to room 257, her hand still held by wooyoung's bigger and warmer one. she pushes the door open, her eyes immediately falling on the bed in the corner of the room. out of four beds, only two were now occupied, meaning that the other two had gotten better and were probably at home with their families. it made alice's heart warm.

it made her heart even warmer when her gaze dropped on the woman in the last bed, her head hidden by what seemed like a beauty magazine. fresh flowers stood beside her bed, accompanied by a framed picture and what seemed like a jewellery box.

"mom?"

the woman drops her magazine in her lap, a smile so wide on her face that it made alice's cheeks hurt. god, she looks so different. it wasn't that long since alice's last visit, was it? the woman in the bed wore makeup, her grey hair braided, and a flower head band placed neatly on her head. her nails were painted a golden brown colour, resembling the autumn leaves that tapped on her window on windy days. she dared to say, her mother looked better than her.

"ally, my darling!" the woman calls, tucking the magazine under her pillow.

alice approaches the bed, sitting in the usual stool that was waiting for her under the elevated nightstand.

"eleanor," wooyoung greets, slightly bowing. "you look absolutely beautiful."

"oh, my, this boyfriend of yours. always a sweet-talker." the woman blushes, waving her hand at the young man. "you are so very lucky, baby, not a lot of boys your age are this sweet. let me tell you, just five minutes ago, amber's son came over, had a fight with her over their house and kicked her out! look, her suitcase is right there!"

"mom, please. can you be any more quiet?"

alice looks over at the other occupied bed, and truly, there stood a suitcase. luckily, the woman was sleeping, so she didn't hear her mother's little gossip party.

"oh, don't worry. the poor woman cried so much that she fell asleep from exhaustion."

silence swallowed the room for a while, eleanor fidgeting with the rings on her fingers. she knew alice had questions. and she dreaded that she had to answer them.

"these aren't the flowers i brought you last time."

"no... no they aren't." she trails, looking anywhere but at her daughter.

"so... whose are they?"

a mumble is heard, and alice raises an eyebrow at her. wooyoung catches a glimpse at the framed picture, but when he fails to recognize the people on it, he shifts his attention back to the woman. she looks at wooyoung, as if searching for a way out of the interrogation that is about to happen. but wooyoung sends her an apologetic smile, and rests his hands on alice's hair, moving it out of her face. he feels like she will need it. there is a reason why her mother is acting so nervous, and when alice is upset, she loves to have her hair played with.

"mom."

"hm? oh. right, the flowers. uh... they're from..."

"mom, cut the bullshit. i'm just curious. so what if a friend brought them over? you have a new crush in town? dr clark not cute anymore?"

"oh, no! dr clark is very cute. and very young. and he is married, sadly for me. no, these are from, uh..."

alice grows impatient, a frown already forming on her face. wooyoung senses her tense state, and gently drops his hand on her shoulder, massaging the knot below her neck. she sighs, and looks at him as a way of saying thank you. silent conversations were common between the two, and it just showed how well they read each other. how much they love each other.

wooyoung presses his lips to her temple, and gently caresses her back as her mother prepares to give an answer.

"so?"

"so what?" eleanor acts dumb, still hoping that alice will give up.

"mom. the flowers. the jewellery. the makeup. the nails. the picture."

the girl finally takes the framed picture. she recognizes her young mother, her bright ginger hair falling in waves on her shoulder, green irises almost invisible because of her big smile and closed eyes. the man, however, she does not recognize.

"from your father."

wooyoung halts his movements. alice sits still, her gaze not leaving the picture.

"what?"

"your father. he came every day since your last visit, and brought me all these flowers, made me the crown, even painted my nails-"

"i didn't know they let drug addicts inside hospitals."

wooyoung gulps, watching eleanor's jaw drop at her daughter's numbness to the new situation they have found themselves in.

"isn't that, like, very unsafe? for both parties?"

"you shut your mouth, right now. your father is a good man."

"he is not my father, and he is certainly not a good man."

the woman's face twists into one of anger, hands turning white as she grips the sheets she's covered with. "he is your god damn father, whether you like it or not."

"he is a scumbag. that's all he is. and, he is the reason you're here. isn't it? have you forgotten?"

"alice..." wooyoung tries, but stops when alice raises her hand as a sign to stop talking.

"didn't he throw you down the fucking stairs and smash your head through the window?"

"that was years ago, alice. you were barely four."

"and yet i remember."

"you're acting as if he killed me."

"he drugged you all the time! and you became an addict, just like him!"

the dark past resurfaces so easily, pulling both women under it's veil and swallowing them with grief. so many tears spilled, so many bruises earned, and so many cuts treated. alice was only three when it all begun, and she still wonders how it all escalated so quickly in a span of just three months. from only name calling and occasional yelling, to full fist and kick fights and screaming for help. only for her mother to go back to him, too afraid and in love to let go. and each morning the same. three months of alice finding herself in crossfire, earning new bruises every other day, and crying all night long.

she loved her mother, and she loved her father a little less every day. strangely enough, there used to be days when the house was as peaceful as it used to be before her father became what he became. she didn't know why, or how. all she knew was that she was grateful. and that whatever pills dad was slipping mom in her drinks and food were, they worked, and alice guarded them in the cupboard with her life. years later, she realized what the pills were. pills, powder, injections, you name them. by the time the monster left the house, the woman was already hooked. she craved more, and more, and didn't have any. who was at fault for that? alice.

alice was the first thing eleanor saw in the morning, and the last thing she saw in the evening. she was there, consistently needing attention, food, love. and eleanor was exhausted. she just wanted her happy pills. and what other way to express your frustration, than to punish a child who just doesn't shut the fuck up?

wooyoung presses a kiss on her head, in hopes of pulling her out of her memories. he knew that she was thinking of old times, of the man from the picture. and he knew that won't do good to her.

"what did he want?" she calmly asks, fidgeting with the frame. she wished for nothing more than to burn the picture, and throw it at the old house, letting it burn the pain away. if only it worked that way.

"why do you think he would want something?"

"mom."

eleanor sighs, in disbelief. or defeat. wooyoung can't tell yet. she looks around the room, trying to find the right words so she wouldn't further hurt her daughter. though the damage was already done, and wooyoung couldn't see how she could further worsen it. until she opened her mouth again.

"he asked for money."

"what?!"

"but look, i-it's just for a new place, so we can all be together again!"

"what?!?!"

alice stands up, head in her hands and legs carrying her hurriedly around the room. wooyoung plops down on the nearby empty bed, feeling his heart swelling at the sight of his loving girlfriend lose control over her emotions. but he knows better than to interfere. he just needs to let her do what she needs to do.

"alice, please. i just want a family. a proper family."

"well you sure as fuck aren't getting that from him! how much?"

"what?"

"how fucking much?!"

"all of it! god, just stop screaming at me!"

now the other woman was the one holding her head, while the younger one shot her head up wide-eyed.

"all... of it?"

"yes, yes! all of it! he wants to create a better future for us and you're acting like a fucking lunatic for no re-"

"you- you bitch."

a gasp escapes the young man's mouth, and he looks over to the woman in bed for her reaction. she grits her teeth, trying to keep her composure. wooyoung notices how red her eyes have become, and how glossy they look. she is trying her best not to let her tears spill, but the more she looks at alice, the less control she has. she watches as her daughter grabs the picture and smashes it on the floor. when alice grabs her shoulders and starts shaking her, screaming in her face, she loses it. big drops roll down her cheeks and neck, ruining the makeup she had so carefully put on.

wooyoung hated that he couldn't help. the best way of helping was to stay back and do nothing. no matter what he said, it would only light up the fire in one of them, if not both. so wooyoung settled for glancing over at the stranger in the other bed, giving her a nod as a sign that everything is okay and that she doesn't need to worry. he doesn't know if it managed to calm the woman or not, because he gets pulled into the mess by eleanor. she grabs his wrist, pulling him closer as if asking for help.

"wooyoung can't help you right now! let go of him!"

"wooyoung, please- please! i only wanted to make it better for us-" she hiccups through sobs, desperately clawing at wooyoung's hand.

alice yanks his hand out of hers, and when a loud slap echoes through the room, wooyoung decides it is time to finally step in. alice might get mad, hell, she might even slap him too, but he doesn't care.

"alice." he sternly says, grabbing her shoulders.

"no, we're not doing this! wooyoung, i am breaking my back every day, i am working overtime, running here making sure she eats and stops acting like a child, only for her to give away all my hard work for empty promises?! to who?! a man who doesn't even recognize me anymore?!"

she is furious. she sees red. no amount of comforting from wooyoung's side will make her calm down.

"take me home."

"are you sure-"

before wooyoung can finish, he can only catch a glimpse of her dark red locks bouncing as she rushes out of the door, slamming it shut after.

"wooyoung, please talk to her."

the man sighs, torn between the two women. he hates this. letting people down. but more than that, he hates letting his girlfriend down.

"i'm sorry, eleanor. there's nothing i can do."

he gently picks up the picture from the floor, careful with the cracked glass, and places it on the nightstand. he glances at the older woman one last time, before sighing and following his girlfriend's path.

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winterrrnight · 2 years ago

Note

congratulations on 100! i love your works and i’m very excited for your future ones 💘

could i please get a before the coffee gets cold; rafe with number 11?

ahhh thank you sooo much!! <33 you've been so supportive throughout it all and that just means the whole world to me 🫶🏻🫶🏻 this fic, it's so different than what I usually write, so it's definitely experimental. I'm nervous about what kind of feedback it will receive, so I really hope you like this!

I can't get enough

PAIRING: soft!rafe cameron x gn!reader

SUMMARY: Rafe simply cannot get enough of you.

WARNINGS: intimate moments between reader and Rafe, but they aren't written with a sexual intent, fluff (kinda tooth rotting fluff 🫢)

EDITH SPEAKS: this is either very well written and one of my best, or it's so cringey and horrible that all it's traces should be removed from the internet. which one do you think this is 😃

PROMPTS REQUESTED: "I know I've kissed you like, 10 times, but just like another 10, please."

100 followers celebration (now closed) || navigation

The moonlight shines in through the curtains, cascading a sliver glow throughout the entire room. You're lying on the bed with Rafe sitting in your lap, as he leans in to press kisses against your lips. For a moment, his lips linger on yours for more than just a few seconds, and you feel his heavy breathing mixing with yours, your limbs entangled with his.

You gently pull back and hold his face in your hands, softly brushing his hair out of his eyes. He closes his eyes at your warm touch, just feeling your hands trace his skin.

Rafe holds one of your hands in his and presses a kiss to your palm, slowly kissing up your arm and reaching your shoulder. You giggle when you feel his hair tickle your cheeks. He now reaches where he had started: your lips.

With swollen lips and a heavy heart, you pull Rafe back from you. He looks at you with a pout.

"What?" You giggle at his cute expression.

"I just want to keep on kissing you right now, you just look so kiss-able," he says softly. You gently intertwine your hand with his, your gaze never leaving his.

"I don't think that's a word," you mumble, your other hand moving to his hair and your fingers instantly twirling the strands of his silky hair.

"Let me just. . ." he whispers, attaching his lips back to yours and you smile into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer. You take in the taste of the apple pie he had just less than an hour ago, his own sweet taste mixing with that of the pie to create a symphony of a sugary mess.

When you both feel yourself running out of breathe, Rafe pulls back again and just looks at you. Your hand now rests against his waist, and with a gentle push, you help him get off your lap. He lays next to you, and you instantly lay your head on top of his chest, your fingers tracing shapes onto his bare skin.

Even in this silence, Rafe's lips just cannot leave your skin. He's pressing butterfly kisses to your forehead and cheeks constantly, whispering little sweet nothings to you with each kiss.

"You're my everything, you know that right?"

"I cannot think of living a life without you."

"You and me, forever and always."

"I love you so much, I'll do anything for you."

You let your eyes flutter shut as you feel heat rush to your cheeks on hearing these words. His relaxed voice creates a calm aura around you, all your body muscles relaxing immediately.

You look at him to see him already looking at you, a gentle smile on his lips.

"I know I've kissed you like, 10 times, but just like another 10, please," he says, his hand resting against your cheek. You press a kiss to his bare chest and shift yourself in his lap.

"I think you've kissed me a lot more than just 10 times," you giggle, "but yes, kiss me some more. Please." His lips are pulled in the biggest grin and it doesn't even take him a second to pull you so close to him, his arms wrapped tightly around you as he wishes to never let you go.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

TAGLIST: @runningfrom2am @ragingsammie @maybankslover @totalswag @madelynie @chenslucy @ietss @elle-mp3 @viawritesstuff

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hannamoon143 · 4 months ago

Note

Here to make a request ^^

Soooo.....who doesn't love some good angst, right?

How about a hurt/comfort fic? Felix x fem!reader where she comforts him after he gets eliminated? Make it as angsty as you can but with a fluffy ending, please!!

Thank you! <333

Elimination...?

pairings: felix x fem. reader

genre: angst, fluff, hurt /comfort

warnings: crying, none?

a/n:hi! thanks for the request, i'm really sorry tho, because it didn't turn out how i wanted it. I'll try to write better, and if you find any mistakes or smth just tell me. Have a great day <33

You watched the screen intensly. Again the boys did an amazing job, but jyp was looking critical at your friends. You frowned. After minho’s elimination noone of them was the same energetic and happy as before. You visited them some times, and you could see that they were drained and sad, by just looking at their faces

Especially felix. He was your boyfriend, so you got to see him more often than the other boys. He told you, how horrible it was for everyone, now that minho was eliminated. When he came home that day of minho’s elimination, he cried silently in your arms. You couldn’t even imagine how hard it was for him and all the other members, all you could do was comfort and support him and the guys. So since then, he wasn’t quite the same. You didn’t say anything to him, you knew he probably needed space and time. But you could see the pain in his eyes.

So now, there they stood again, in front of jyp, and you sat in front of your screen, praying that jyp was satisfied with all of them. „Everything will be alright.“ You said, again and again.

Either felix or hyunjin would be eliminated he said. What? He couldn’t do this right? This man couldn’t be so oblivious that he didn’t see the way they all were hurting because of minhos elimination. He couldn’t do this to them once again. These boys needed each other. But it seemed like jyp didn’t think all that. You held your breath, as jyp was close to tell the guys his choice. But you didn’t exhale when he started :„felix. your biggest problem is…“. No, this wasn’t real right? He couldn’t just eliminate felix. After that you were only able to listen halfly anymore, seeing how felix was at the verge of tears, and then started crying. All of the members did. They apologized to each other, and it broke your heart seeing them fall apart once again. They deserved so much better. You needed a moment to realize that tears were streaming down your face too. You heard chan saying „always find me yeah? I’m not gonna leave you behind.“ It only made you cry more.

If it wasn’t so emotional you could have almost chuckled bitterly. The reason your sunshine was eliminated was that his korean wasn’t that good. Really? You felt angry despite the sadness. You knew that felix worked hard on his korean. It was hard for him, but he still worked on it as hard as he could, so he would be on the same level with the other members.

This didn’t feel real. Stray kids worked so hard to debut together, and now two members were just getting eliminated? The worst was, you were one of the few persons that knew how hard they worked. Felix would practice his parts over and over again, wanting you to give him feedback, he would sit on the couch for hours at night, learning to speak better korean. And when you were with the boys, they were always practising, giving each other tips to sing better, perfectionizing their vocals, trying out new choreograpies. He didn’t deserve this. Noone of the boys did.

As the episode ended you tried to get it together. Felix would come home soon, at least that was what you hoped. You decided to send him a text.

Hey lixie, are you on your way home? Of course i understand if you need time, just let me know if your okay. <33

You didn’t want him to overthink this. But fortunately he texted back just shortly after.

I’m coming home.

Just a short text, but it was relieving. You tried to think of a way to comfort him. Would he want space or rather have you comforting him? You hadn’t quite decided yet when you heard the door open. You immediately jumped up, going to the front door.

It broke your heart to see him like this. Felix was looking down at the floor, kicking his shoes off. Neither of you talked. You stepped closer to him, and slowly brought a hand up to his cheek, lifting his head up. His eyes were red and puffy from crying. It seemed like he just stopped a few minutes ago. Wich he in fact did, not wanting to worry you even more. But you saw it. All the pain, the guilt and the burden on the young boy’s shoulders.

„come here.“ You softly said and just pulled him into a tight hug. You both started crying again, and you didn’t know, when you moved tot he couch. He was sobbing into your sweater, and you mumbled comforting words into his hair, stroking his back in a soothing manner.

„I-It’s my korean, i’m just not good enough at it cause i’m not a native speaker and…and it’s everything, i should have done better, the others are so disappointed and c-chan, i disappointed chan…And i wanted to do better, for them, for minho, for you.But all i a is a failure“

He sobbed, his voice breaking at some points. You wished so bad you could bring him and minho back in, and have stray kids debut as a whole. But all you could do now was comforting him.

„Hey look at me.“ You said, lifting his head a bit. You gently wiped some of his tear away with your thumb. „You, lee felix, are great. Your a great dancer, have heavenly voice and a character of gold. And you are not a failure. I know this for sure, cause to me you aren’t. You are the sweetest person i ever met, and you are so good in everything you do. And chan and the members? They think exactly the same. Why did you think chan wanted you to be in his group? He has a good sense for people, and he knew from the first moment on, that you are exactly what his team and the world needs.“

Felix, looked at you, sniffling a bit. „But, how do i know all this is true.“

„Because my sunshine, one day you will see it yourself. All these things, that i, chan, all the members, your family, and your fans already know, will one day also be seen by you. Promise“ you softly reassured him, stroking his cheek.

He finally stoped crying, and looked at you with his pretty brown eyes. Maybe you were right. Maybe it would be alright at some point. Right now, he was tired, but maybe, he could think about it more tomorrow.

„Can we go to sleep?“ he whispered.

You smiled at him. Not a pitiful smile. A real one. One that made him believe that you were right, with the things you just said.

That night, all you did anymore, was cuddling in your bed. Tightly wrapped into a blanket, secure in each others hold. He was of course still hurt, guilty and unelievable sad. But that could wait until tomorrow. Eventually everything would work out.

2 episodes later:

The door swings open. You waste no time to run to him, cheer and laugh. Felix takes you in his arms, squeezing you with the biggest smile ever.

„You were right y/n. Everything is okay now. We will debut all together, and even minho is there again, i’m so happy!“ he laughed, and you did too. You were just so glad jyp gave minho and felix another chance. No matter what would come from now on, the boys would face it together, and you would also be there, standing right next to them, cheering for them at every concert and every event, supporting them when they needed it, and most importantly, holding felix‘ hand.

„i just knew you would make it sunshine.“

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 year ago

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Dirty Work 33

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: The man has no chill.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You hover before the door, each step sending a searing ripple through your bottom. You wring your hands as you walk in circles. You're not even sure Mr. Laufeyson is still within but you don't dare open to check.

Time slogs by in your cowardice. You retreat to the sofa and pull your feet up, hugging your knees as you hang your head. You just want him to forgive you and tell you you're good.

You close your eyes as your head begins to thrum. You're mind wanders ahead of you and the list of everything you'll need to pack. You don't even have a bag of your own, what will you put your stuff in? How long will you be gone? You'll have to rescheduled Ronan's next visit, and forward the gate codes to the gardeners...

You slip into a doze as your mind skews with the endless rote of tasks. You slump down until the world goes black, your body sinking into itself. You only stir again as you feel a shift around you.

You grunt and lift your hand as you're lifted from the sofa. You look up at Mr. Laufeyson's chin as he carries you across the room. You wiggle and brace his chest as you float precariously in his arms.

"Come to bed," he coaxes as he takes you into the hall.

You don't move. You don't dare. Fearful that he might suddenly hate you again. He brings you to the bedroom and lays you on the bed. You stay curled up as he shuts the door.

He moves around quietly and approaches with a swish of fabric. He holds a satin nightgown by its straps. You pout up at him as he tilts his head.

"Sleep, we have much to do tomorrow," he girds.

You nod and sit up. You sidle to the edge of the bed and he places the nightie beside you. He unbuttons your blouse before you can. You sit there and let him. He swiftly pulls the sleeves down your arms and disposes your bra in quick succession. He grabs your arms and makes you stand, unzipping your skirt before he shimmies it down to your ankles. You step out of it, then your panties as he tugs them down too.

You raise your arms as he opens the nightgown above you and he sweeps it down your figure. The cool fabric makes you shiver. Still groggy, you teeter on your feet and turn to stare at the bed, waiting for his order.

"A moment," he extends a single finger before striding away.

You stay as you are, folding your arms as you face the wall. The satin makes your bum sting each time you move. You hear him behind you.

"Get on the bed," he orders, "on your stomach."

You obey, so quickly you nearly flop onto your face. You move your head onto the pillow, bending your arms beneath. He nears and pinches the fabric just along the curve of your thigh. He peels it up and reveals your tortured flesh.

"It might hurt," he warns and touches a cool swab to your skin. You hiss between your teeth and swallow down a whimper. He works diligently, almost dotingly at cleaning the lashes, bruises tender at his touch. "We can't have an infection, can we?"

"No, Mr. Laufeyson," you agree as he covers your bottom with the nightie.

"Mmm," he hums and leaves you again.

You wait, unmoving, for his return. When he comes back, he undresses near the closet and pulls on only a pair of twill pajama pants to sleep in. He climbs onto the bed from the other side and grabs your shoulder, rolling you onto your back. Your face contorts in pain as your weight rests on your rear.

"Better," he says. You frown. "You are doing better," he specifies, "pet, if you are to accompany me to my mother's celebration, you must be on your best behaviour."

"Yes, Mr. Laufeyson," you utter.

He traces the strap of your nightie with his fingertips and you shudder. As much as you fear his touch, you long for it. It means he's not upset. His hand wanders as he trails over the swell of your chest, your nipples going pert beneath the fabric.

"And you are excited to come?" He asks.

"Yes, Mr. Laufeyson," you answer.

"Truly?"

"Yes, I... I've never gone anywhere before."

"Not anywhere?" He prompts doubtfully.

"No," you lower your eyes shamefully, "we couldn't afford--"

"Not to worry," he lifts his hand and taps the tip of your nose, "let me worry for the expense. I only need you on your best and to have everything ready. Can you do that?"

"Yes, Mr. Laufeyson," you gulp, "I promises--"

"Shhhh," he presses his finger to your lips, "it is late."

You nod as he drags his fingertip over your lips and circles your mouth. He fixates on the move, his eyes glittering. He lets out a sigh.

"One more thing," he adds as he frames your chin, "you will avoid my brother."

You swallow and whisper, "yes, Mr. Laufeyson."

"Very good, pet," he bends to kiss your forehead, "rest, you will surely need it."

✨

Exhaustion shrouds the night. You wake little by little, sore and weak as your fatigue weighs you down. You languish in the bed next to Mr. Laufeyson, his breath rising and falling softly in his chest. You’re uncertain what to do.

Should you wait for him to rouse before you set about the day?

You don’t dare wake him up. The very thought sends a flow of terror through you. Whenever you disturbed your father’s sleep, he was never happy. Those days were the worst. Men are safer when they’re asleep.

Restless, you relent to the morning and sit up carefully. You glance over at Mr. Laufeyson. Gone is the anger that creased his forehead and curled his lip. He is peaceful and placid, all tension drained from his features. Conscious, his cheeks are always drawn taut with disapproval and brow set in an imperious line. He looks almost harmless.

As the night tugs against your bottom, you’re reminded that he is not. You turn your back to him and slip off the side of the bed. You peek at him again, slowly tiptoeing to the door. He doesn’t stir.

You ease the door just enough to pass into the hall and scurry onward. You take the stairs quickly and charge into the kitchen. He can’t be mad if you bring him tea. If you’re just doing your job, there’s no reason for disappointment.

You boil the kettle and pluck out cups and the tea pot. You do the task without thinking, arranging the tray just so before lifting it up. You are careful not to rattle the contents as you climb the staircase.

You shoulder through the bedroom door and find Mr. Laufeyson as you left him. You try not to notice what you didn’t before. The twitching movement over his pelvis, just beneath the blanket. You gulp and set down the tray on foot of the bed. The smell of tea wafts from the spout of the pot.

It’s good he’s asleep, the tea still needs time to steep. You step back and pull on your finger, watching him, waiting. Would he be even more upset if you let him sleep too late? He said today would be busy.

“Pet,” he frightens you as he speaks without moving, “do you plot against me?”

You wince and shake your head, pressing your hands to either side of your neck, “no, Mr. Laufeyson, I wouldn’t–”

“Be calm,” he opens his eyes and his head lolls to face you, “I am being facetious.”

You stare at him and blink.

“Sarcasm,” he declares and bends his arms around his head, stretching his long back with an arch. His arms bulge as the muscles in his chest strain against his skin. “What has you awake so early?”

“Tea,” you bounce on your feet, “I wanted to surprise you–”

“Mmm,” he rumbles and scratches his chest, “you can be so precious.”

You nearly wiggle at the praise. He doesn’t hate you anymore. You’re being good.

“Have you made your list?” He asks, groaning as he sits up.

“My list?” You echo in confusion.

“For our journey,” he leans against the headboard and smooth his hair, though a curl stubborn stands at an angle.

“I will,” you step forward and pour a cup of tea. You bring it around to him and place it on the night table, “no milk.”

“Ah, good,” he hooks a finger through the handle. His lifts his other hand flicks his index towards you, “take this off,”

“Mr. Laufeuson?” You flinch.

He arches a brow, overriding further argument. You bunch up the satin in your hands and pull the nightgown above your waist. You shimmy it up over your head and slip the straps down your arms. You put it in a heap on the side of the bed, just by his legs.

“Turn,” he twirls his finger.

You obey and put your back to him. The bed creaks as the cool morning air pricks your skin. You jump as he touches the hot flesh along your ass. You hiss and ball your fists up as the bruises thrum.

“Mmm, it should heal,” he retracts his hand, the headboard knocking against the wall again. You hang your head and let out a shaky breath. “Well, pet, you may sit and have your tea before we begin the day.”

“Mr. Laufeyson,” you reach for the nightie and he tisks.

“Ah, leave it,” he demands, “I prefer you like this.”

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson,” you acquiesce and stiffly march forward, curling around to the other side of the bed. You pour yourself a cup as you feel him watching you.

“And you are still excited?” He prompts.

You bat your lashes at him as you cradle your cup.

“About the trip?”

“Oh, yes,” you nod and blow over the steaming tea.

“But you are nervous,” he states, his gaze boring down on you.

“Yes,” you lower your cup over your lap. “Trying not to be.”

“No, it is good, you are well to be cautious,” he girds, “you’ve met most of my family, being confined with them is another task.”

You nod and stare down into the amber breakfast tea. He sips and lets out a deep breath, a rumble rising from his chest. You glance over as he traces his finger along the rim.

“Stay close to me and all should be fine,” he sighs, a strand of anxiety in his timbre, “yes, I do think it is our best plan.”

You bring the cup to your lips and taste the stringent tea. It’s too strong for you but you drink anyway. Your mind isn’t on the tea, it’s on that word he keeps using. ‘Our’? No, it’s his and yours; what he has and what he allows you. One moment, you are adversaries, the next, he speaks as if you’re allies.

You don’t understand him and his moods, you just know you must appease them.

✨

Mr. Laufeyson picks your outfit. A black miniskirt and a white camisole, along with a pair of sheer stockings. You note that it’s rather similar to the maid costume he’d liked so much before. You don’t linger on the thought long before you begin the day.

You have your list of to do’s; the first being, make your own list. You don’t know the first thing about packing. Before, Mr. Laufeyson gave you a carefully curated inventory, but now you have to figure out what you need. That’s a question you rarely consider.

You type out two things before you feel lost; clothes and soap. Well, that’s not very helpful. Which clothes? How do you dress for Wimplesnatch or whatever that thing is? You still don’t know what exactly this celebration is. Is it like Christmas? Or Halloween? Do you need a costume?

You type into the search bar and find a website that generates packing lists. You’re slightly amazed by its existence. It reassures you that you’re not the most clueless person on the planet. You don’t know how many days you’re going to be away so you put in a week and hope for the best.

That looks better. You copy down the list by hand and set it aside. You start a second, one you don’t need help with.

‘Electric, rent, Leslie, groceries…’

You tally up the new deposit in your account into your debts. You login in to your online account and click around. You usually just go to the bank but when you went to get your direct deposit information for the agency, the bank offered a virtual sign in. You’re confused by all the different numbers and buttons.

You go to the FAQ and scroll. You finally figure out how to pay a bill and search in your email for the digital bills you let stack up unread. You add the payees one by one before you attempt payment. You check and recheck each amount before sending it off. When you’re done, your heart lurches at the amount leftover. It’s almost all gone.

You exhale in relief. You can’t go off not knowing your dad’s taken care of. You didn’t part on good terms but he’s still your dad and he’s still very sick. Maybe you should go say goodbye…

“Pet,” Mr. Laufeyson startles you as he struts in through the open door, “ah, I’ve found you.”

You turn in the seat and watch him roll in a large suitcase behind him. He drags it towards the desk and wheels it to face you. It is the colour of lilacs with rose gold zippers. It’s so pretty.

“There you are. It should suffice,” he slaps the top before letting it go.

Your eyes round as you admire the bag. It’s yours? You reach tentatively to touch it before recoiling.

“Thank you, it’s so nice,” you smile. “Erm, I was thinking…” you reach back and grab the first list, an asterisk next to one of the items, “gas money? Do you–”

He interrupts you with a laugh, “pet, don’t bother with all that. You only need to bring yourself. Besides, you should save your money. My mother does love to spend and she will surely have some special plans.”

“Oh,” you seal your lips and twist in the seat. You reach to exit out of the window but before you can, the screen is spun away from you.

Mr. Laufeyson angles the laptop towards him and bends to scan the screen. His eyebrow furrows and he looks at you in alarm.

“Did your stipend not go through? I will call the bank–”

You gulp, “it did, I just–”

He clicks and you grip the edge of the desk to keep from grabbing him. What is he doing? His eyes flit down the screen.

“You… you’re still paying for the fetid old beast?” He snarls.

“Mr. Laufeyson, he’s my dad–”

“A father who never once took you on a holiday? Or a simple road trip? Yes, he is a prize. If I knew my money would be siphoned into his ungrateful hands–”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Laufeyson,” you pout and rock in the chair, “I wasn’t trying to be bad.”

He huffs and stands, his hands going to his hips. He looks down at you and you wilt. He rolls his shoulders and drops his arms.

“I know you meant well,” he sighs and feels around his back, sliding his wallet from his pants pocket, “you will take the gold card for the trip.”

“Mr. Laufeyson, I can’t–”

“You will,” he picks out the gold plastic and places it on the open laptop, “I cannot have my family thinking I pay you pennies."

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #maid au #dirty work #mcu #marvel #avengers #thor

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jaylaxies · 1 year ago

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KINKTOBER DAY 25 — PRAISE KINK

PAIRING: heeseung x fem!reader

GENRE/CW: smut, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, bartender!heeseung, lots of praising, usage of nicknames, breeding.

WC: 1.1k words

WARNING: 18+ content, minors dni

A/N: hihi, angels! praise kink w hee for my lovely @starrywonie (i hope you’ll enjoy this!) all likes, comments, reblogs and feedbacks are highly appreciated! iloveyou all <33

✎ kinktober masterlist

“So fucking pretty when you take my cock like that, princess.”

You couldn’t remember the last time you wanted to be fucked by someone this bad, but your feelings were valid, especially when the guy you were crushing on was Lee Heeseung, as his name tag said.

Going to clubs wasn’t something you derived pleasure from per se, which soon changed when your eyes took in the bartender who was more than eager to serve you for the night.

He was the prettiest man you had ever seen.

With his hair pushed back and the first few buttons open, it gave you the best view you could’ve asked for. His smirk only made your heart beat faster, the scent of his cologne maddening as he leaned by the counter to whisper in your ear, “you’re the prettiest girl in the room,” he had told you.

His voice replayed in your mind even when you had gone back to your place, touching yourself to the thought of him. He had easily given you an excuse to visit the club more often, which was a win win, given that your friends won’t have you drag you out and you can stay at the bar the entire time, talking to the bartender.

He found it beyond attractive how you returned his energy each time he flirted with you, but what made him actually act out was when the alcohol finally kicked in, and so did your urge to dance. His work was long forgotten as he handed it over to a coworker, watching the way you move your body to each beat, thorough enjoyment seeping through you. A gasp left your lips when he got behind you, moving his hips in sync with no space left between you two.

He was quick to press himself on your ass, his arms around your waist caging you perfectly and you felt your skin getting warm by the second, even more so when you heard him groan right by your ear before he nibbled on your lobe, asking if you wanted to get out of here, wetness pooling in your panties with his deep tone.

You thanked the lords that he lived nearby, because you wouldn’t be able to contain yourself any further, which seemed to be the case with Heeseung as well.

He was quick to pin you against the door the second he entered his apartment, a gasp leaving your mouth as he caged you between his arms, coming closer till your lips brushed against his, “you’re beautiful,” he mumbled, capturing your lips in a rushed kiss, knocking breath out of your lungs.

The praise made you shiver, your breaths growing heavier as he swiftly pulled down your dress, exposing your hardened nipples to him. His tongue swiped across your nipples, his strokes broad and confident before he wrapped his mouth around it, sucking firmly while his other hand caressed and punched your other nipple, taking turns to focus on them both.

Your moans were loud as you didn’t do much to conceal them, “such sweet noises,” he groaned, his thumb pads rough against your skin, creating the perfect friction for your knees to go weak to the point he has to hold you up.

He chuckles, “so cute, so fucking small,” he whispered against your skin, giving you goosebumps as he finally pulled back to get rid of all your clothing, guiding you to his bed.

You leaned in for his lips again but he moved back, watching you chase him helplessly as a whimper left your mouth, “want me to kiss you, hm?” He asked, teasing further, licking your neck, sucking harder to get an answer out of you.

“Yes—yes please!” You threw your head back to give him more space to kiss and lick the expanse of your neck, his arm holding you firmly under him.

“That’s a good girl,” he whispered and you sighed, taking his name breathily, his lips finally meeting yours in another rushed kiss, and he continued to kiss you till you both couldn’t breathe anymore, leaning back for air.

Yet Heeseung couldn’t stop, he had to appreciate every inch of your body, lips all over your skin, “oh god,” you whisper, voice shaky, a shiver running down your spine with how effortlessly he whispered praises while touching you, setting your body on fire as he went on kissing lower and lower.

His warm breath fanned your cunt, your thighs closing with the sensation but his strong arms didn’t let it happen, his lips ghosting over your clit, teasing you, lifting your leg onto his shoulder for better access to your folds, “don’t tease, please, Hee.”

You moaned when he immersed himself, not having it in him to deny you pleasure any further, especially when you were being a darling and saying please.

He sucks your clit, prodding his tongue between your lips to run long strokes along your folds, your fingers gripping his roots as you mewl with pleasure when his tongue slipped in your entrance, your back arching while he continued his ministrations.

“Taste so sweet, baby,” he hummed, “wanna fuck you,” he spoke against your wetness and you nodded, begging him to put his cock in you.

Heeseung grasped his cock, pumping it a few times as he got up to kiss your lips yet again, and you felt as if you were drunk in his essence. He pushed his cock in slowly, watching your expressions carefully, trying to memorize them, “fuck! You’re so pretty, I could do this each day,” he groaned.

He pumped into you slowly, watching your eyes roll back with unadulterated pleasure seeping through your body, he felt so devoted to you, and you reciprocated all of it by pulling him in another kiss, as if he was the reason why you felt so drunk, so intoxicated. He grabbed your hips, thrusting in harder once you got used to his length, which was bigger than you had ever experienced before.

“So close,” you bit your bottom lip to conceal your moans, which got louder each second, just like Heeseung’s breaths.

“That’s it, baby. You’re doing so well,” he rasped, his dick twitching at the sight of you shivering underneath him, your release rapidly approaching.

With your hips bucking up uncontrollably, you wished you could feel this bliss forever, the warmth of Hee’s cum in your cunt, the sheer pleasure you received as you reached your high, and his sweet praises which helped you calm down.

“That’s my good girl,” he whispered.

You wanted it again, and Heeseung was more than ready to give it to you.

THANK YOU FOR READING!

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dreamwritesimagines · 2 years ago

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Garden of Secrets [33] - Stinging Nettle

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback and support my loves, it made my whole week, you’re amazing!❤ I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think, thank you! ❤

Thanks so much to @theskytraveler for helping me with the chapter!

Summary: The hours before an important ball can be very tense.

Warnings: Regency era society and social rules, some gender specific language and terms, mentions of trauma and violence.

Word Count: 3400

Series Masterlist

Though attending parties hadn’t been a habit of yours up until you got married, you’d grown quite fond of them fast. Maybe it was the entertaining conversations, the company of your friends, drinks, or perhaps the overall free atmosphere that one could not have at a ball but now that you were here, you were now beginning to realize how much you had missed it.

“You seem to be in deep thought.”

Your head shot up and you turned around to see Lord Easton at the entrance of the balcony you were standing in. You smiled at him, then lifted the glass in your hand a bit, the chatter and the music coming from inside reaching the balcony as well.

“I may have drunk a bit too much,” you admitted. “Wanted to get some fresh air.”

“May I join you?”

“Of course,” you said and he closed the balcony door behind him, then approached you as you turned again to watch the beautiful view under the night sky. He placed his glass on the marble railing of the balcony and you stole a look at him.

“They’re having some sort of a sketching competition back in there.”

“Oh I saw it,” he said. “I think I will sit that one out.”

“You don’t want to practice?” you joked and he chuckled.

“I probably should, now that you mention it.”

“Mm hm,” you said. “I mean who else should practice if not the famed artist with thousands of admirers and many credits to his name?”

“No one is ever too good to practice,” he told you. “Especially an artist.”

You thought for a moment, then turned to him.

“Lord Easton—”

“Gordon,” he corrected you. “Your husband is a good friend of mine, and I consider you and I friends as well.”

You smiled slightly.

“Very well,” you said. “May I ask a favor of you, Gordon?”

“Of course.”

“My aunt is throwing a ball tomorrow,” you said. “And if you dropped by even for a short time, it would make her very happy. Not to mention the ton admires you so much and…you know how it goes.”

He smiled and bowed his head slightly.

“It would be my honor and privilege,” he said, making you beam.

“Really?”

“Absolutely.”

A giggle escaped from your lips.

“Oh thank you!” you said. “She will be so happy. I’ll um— I’ll send you the invitation tomorrow?”

“I’m looking forward to it,” he said. “And there’s no need to thank me, I assure you.”

You sipped your drink, then stole a look at him.

“Does it ever tire you?”

“Attending balls?”

“No, the…” you motioned with your hands. “The attention from the ton, all the time.”

He hummed, reaching out to grab his glass to swirl the drink in it.

“Occupational hazard,” he said with a smile, making you laugh. “I mean it has its moments. I don’t mind it most of the time, balls are a way of socializing for example so that’s expected, but sometimes when I’m by myself on the street, I simply want to observe the crowd in quiet.”

“I could never be an artist,” you said, shaking your head and he raised his brows.

“You don’t enjoy attention?”

“I hate it,” you admitted. “I experienced it when I first debuted, with the suitors and such and I’m just…It’s not for me.”

“You might have to get used to some attention though,” he said, making you frown.

“How so?”

“Have you seen your husband’s works?” he joked. “Once he gets into the Academy and people start seeing how talented he is…”

“Benedict is good with all that,” you said. “No issues there, people already pay lots of attention to him, he’s used to that.”

“You’re his ultimate inspiration,” he reminded you. “People will be curious about you as well.”

You paused for a second, then shrugged your shoulders.

“That’s different than being an artist,” you said, trying to ignore the way your cheeks were burning and turned your head to check out what was happening inside. They seemed to have finished with their competition judging by the familiar faces in the room, so you nodded in the direction of the room.

“I’ll go back inside,” you said. “Are you coming?”

“In a moment,” he said and you clinked your glass with his, then made your way back inside. Your gaze fell on Benedict and Margery who were having a conversation at the corner of the room and your stomach did an unpleasant flip, but you shook your head at yourself and made your way to them. Margery cleared her throat when she saw you out of the corner of her eye and gave Benedict a warning look but it was gone so fast that you couldn’t even decide whether you had actually seen it before Benedict turned his head.

“Hello darling,” he said, but his soft tone did nothing to soothe the insecurity shooting through you.

“Am I interrupting something?” you asked, making Benedict shake his head. “Because I can just—”

“Oh you’re not interrupting anything,” Margery said with a laugh. “I was just giving Benedict a hard time because he had the audacity to badmouth Byron’s poetry in front of me.”

Benedict made a face. “I cannot believe you actually like his poetry.”

Margery heaved a sigh and turned to you.

“I give up,” she announced, making the corners of your lips twitch. “I’m going to need more drinks, excuse me.”

She walked away from you both and you pursed your lips together, then looked up at Benedict.

“Are you sure I didn’t interrupt?”

“Not at all,” he assured you with a small grin and entwined his fingers with yours, making your heart skip a beat. “Are you having fun?”

“I am, and I kind of missed it actually,” you admitted. “Coming to parties and such.”

“Did you?”

You nodded. “One would think you’re a bad influence, you hedonist artist.”

He gave you that lopsided grin. “Me, a bad influence?” he asked. “You’re the one with the knife.”

You shrugged your shoulders. “Yes but you’re the one with the debauchery.”

“Fair point,” he said and you repressed a laugh.

“Who won the sketching competition by the way?”

“Felix,” he said. “Lucy gave him full points.”

“Of course she did,” you said, stealing a look at Lucy who was now talking to Margery. “So Byron hm?”

“Huh?” Benedict asked before frowned. “Oh yeah! Margery admires his lines a lot for some reason.”

“Right,” you said, that uncomfortable feeling twisting at your stomach again but before you could say anything else, Benedict pulled at your hand gently.

“Come on,” he said, “I’ll show you the winning sketch, Felix is very proud of it.”

You and Benedict had returned home around dawn and Benedict had an appointment with Gordon in the morning and Anthony in the afternoon, so by the time you woke up, he had already left home to meet Gordon. You had asked to take your breakfast in the drawing room as you tried to decide what the best time would be to drop by your uncle’s home before tonight’s ball to see if they needed any help.

Perhaps afternoon?

You sipped your tea while reading your book and as you bit into your toast, Paula entered the drawing room.

“Ma’am, Miss Harlowe is here.”

“Oh?” you said, putting down your toast and dusted the crumbs off your hands before standing up. Lottie stepped into the drawing room and made her way to you to pull you into a hug.

“Good morning!”

“Hello there,” you said with a smile and pulled back to look at her. “You look happy.”

“I am happy!” she said. “I have news for you.”

“That’s wonderful!” you said “Paula, can you bring Lottie some biscuits and tea?”

“Of course ma’am,” she said and walked out of the room, and you and Lottie sat down on the sofa.

“What’s the good news?” you asked and she squealed, shifting her weight.

“I wanted to tell you before the ball tonight,” she said. “And Tony will tell Benny and Colin this afternoon but I couldn’t wait until then.”

“Couldn’t wait for what?”

“We’re getting married!” she exclaimed and your eyes widened, a gasp getting caught in your throat.

“What?!”

“Yes and we will tell the rest of the family tonight—”

“Wh-how?!” you asked as a happy laugh escaped from your lips and you hugged her. “Congratulations!”

“Thank you!”

“You must tell me everything from the beginning,” you said as you pulled back. “How did he ask? When did he ask?”

An abashed look crossed her face and she cleared her throat.

“Well, um…” she said, nibbling on her lip. “It’s sort of—you must first promise me you will never tell anyone.”

“Of course I will not,” you assured her as a maid walked in with a tray of biscuits and tea. You thanked her, and watched her walk away before turning to Lottie. “Tell me.”

“A week ago.”

“A week ago?!” you asked. “And you didn’t tell me? Wait, is this payback for—”

“No no, it isn’t!” she cut you off. “Of course not.”

“Then?”

She took a deep breath, then sipped her tea.

“Do you remember how Tony and I left Bess’s ball early?”

You tilted your head. “Yes.”

“Well we wanted to talk more you see, and I’m very familiar with sneaking into Bridgerton House because I used to do that a lot when I was little, and everyone was either asleep or at the ball,” she said, making you raise your brows. “And we…we did talk.”

A small smirk pulled at your lips.

“Oh?” you asked. “You sneaked into his house just to talk?”

She repressed a smile. “At first yes.”

“Then?”

“You and I had a conversation earlier that day,” she said, shyness apparent in her tone. “And you said that it felt divine, and I already knew Anthony and I are in love, and…”

Your jaw dropped and you let out a laugh.

“Oh wow.”

“And then he asked me to marry him.”

Alright, this was official; you were the only one who wasn’t consummating her marriage.

“But a week ago?” you asked, trying to focus. “You’ve been engaged for a week and neither of you told—”

“It was my idea,” she said. “I asked him to wait for a week.”

“Why?”

“Well…” she heaved a sigh. “I wanted to tell all of you yes, but Colin was still very heartbroken over what happened with Miss Marina and I didn’t want to hurt his feelings accidentally. You know, first Benny, then Daphne, now Tony finding love and not Colin, at least yet.”

You stared at her, warmth filling your chest. “You waited for a week so that Colin wouldn’t feel bad?”

She nodded.

“He’s like a brother to me,” she said. “We all grew up together.”

You reached out to squeeze her hand. “Oh Lottie…”

“But we will tell our families tonight!” she said. “And Tony will tell them beforehand, and I’m telling you now.”

“I’m glad you are,” you said with a laugh. “Well I’m so happy for you! I told you he would propose within the season.”

“I still cannot believe it,” she said. “I’m the happiest person in the world.”

You grinned at her.

“And I take it your night was divine?”

She gasped, a giggle escaping from her lips. “Y/N!”

“What?” you asked, feigning innocence. “I mean you’re marrying him so—”

“It was more than divine,” she said, biting on her lip in embarrassment. “It was perfect.”

Oh well, you were going to take her word for it.

Hers and Daphne’s and your aunt’s and Benedict’s, to be more specific. Considering everyone else had experienced it but you, you could only believe them instead of seeing it for yourself.

“I’m glad to hear it,” you said, a smile warming your face and she shifted on the sofa.

“The ton will not be very nice, I think,” she said. “They weren’t nice when they thought Benny and I were in courtship, or when I was in actual courtship with Tony, and now that we’re engaged, I can’t help but think—”

“Lottie,” you interrupted her. “What the ton thinks does not matter at all. Let them speak, they do little else anyway.”

She nodded slowly.

“I just…” she trailed off. “I just wish they knew how in love we are.”

You waved a hand in the air.

“They will,” you said. “Never mind them. Now, tell me what you’re planning for the wedding.”

By the time Benedict got back home from his meeting with Gordon, it was nearly noon and Lottie had already left. You had promised her you would be her maid of honor and help her with everything concerning the wedding, and you would be lying if you said you weren’t excited for it. Lottie had asked for your help with her wedding bouquet and the flowers for the wedding breakfast, and you were trying to come up with different combinations when you heard a knock on the door and lifted your head to see Benedict.

“Oh hello,” you said, closing your notebook before he could see the flower arrangement ideas you were writing down. He gave you a happy smile.

“Hey,” he said and stepped inside. “Working on something?”

“Maybe,” you said with a smirk. “Scared I will become your artistic rival?”

“Mm, I wouldn’t stand a chance against you,” he teased, making you giggle. He walked towards you to fling himself on the sofa next to you, then reached out to grab a biscuit from the plate on the small coffee table.

“How is Gordon?”

“He’s fine,” he said. “I think he’s working on a painting. The gala should be fun.”

“The gala?” you asked. “They hold galas for only one painting?”

“When it’s the painting of that big of an artist, yes.”

“Are you looking forward to your own galas?” you asked, making him grin.

“Let me get one painting into the Academy first, and we’ll build from there,” he replied and you shot him a look.

“I’ll remind this to you on your gala,” you mused and tilted your head. “I’m assuming I will be invited?”

“You’ll be the guest of honor,” he told you and you let out a laugh.

“I like the sound of that.”

“How about you?” he asked. “How was your day?”

“Rather interesting,” you said. “Are you meeting Anthony and Colin after this?”

He nodded, biting into his biscuit.

“Apparently Anthony has something he wants to say to us.”

“Wonder what that might be,” you muttered, trying to keep a straight face. Benedict shrugged his shoulders.

“Who knows?” he said. “And you? Any plans before the ball tonight?”

“I’ll visit auntie to see if she needs any help before people arrive,” you said. “I’ll get back around the evening, get dressed here and then we can go together.”

“Do you need any help before that?”

You bit back a smirk. “I can handle auntie,” you said. “Besides, I think today will be hectic enough for you.”

“Why?”

“Just a feeling,” you said and he narrowed his eyes, his whole attention on you.

“Wait, what do you know?”

“Nothing at all,” you said, feigning innocence. “It’s merely a hunch. Speaking of, shouldn’t you be on your way anyway? “

A chuckle climbed up his throat. “Are you trying to get rid of me, dear wife?”

Your jaw dropped.

“No!” you exclaimed. “I’m just saying, Anthony isn’t exactly known for his endless patience.”

He popped the rest of the biscuit into his mouth. “He should learn, I heard people say it’s a virtue.”

“Oh is that so?” you said with a huff of laughter spilling from your lips. “You know a lot about patience then?”

“Is this the part you call me the ton’s horizontal refreshment again?”

“If you’re going to claim to be a patient person, yes,” you pointed out, making him clutch at his chest as if he was heartbroken.

“Ouch,” he said. “I am a patient person.”

“You are the perfect picture of hedonism, that’s what you are.”

“Well hedonism is a bit of a—��

“Drinking, partying,” you said, counting with your fingers. “Being very intimate with a lot of ladies…”

The tips of his ears went pink and he cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck.

“You know what, you’re probably right,” he said after a pause. “I shouldn’t keep Anthony waiting.”

“You’re going to avoid this conversation just like that?”

“Judging by how our earlier conversations on this went, I’m taking my leave before you ask me—”

“Before I ask you how exactly it was like during those parties?”

“That yes,” he pointed out and pushed himself off of the sofa as you repressed a laugh. He leaned in to kiss the top of your head, making your heart skip a beat.

“See you in the evening,” he murmured and walked out of the room. You were painfully aware of the smile on your face, and you dragged the tip of your tongue over your bottom lip before you heaved a sigh and slipped a little on the sofa, leaning your head back.

You knew that Teddy had stayed at Josie and Andrew’s house last night because your uncle’s house was absolute chaos because of the upcoming ball, people working day and night. Not only that, the last you heard Andrew was letting him ride his pony inside the house so you were quite certain Teddy had no issues with the preparations of the ball.

You wouldn’t have been surprised if he began insisting on staying there half of the week to be honest.

With the way your aunt had been working to make this ball perfect, you could only hope that everything would go well tonight. Almost everyone you knew was going to be there, so you were sure that it was going to be fun.

Now all you had to do was to convince your aunt of that.

The carriage stopped in front of the house and you made your way past the gate, but instead of going into the house you figured you could check on your garden first. So you passed by the house to reach the backyard, then tilted your head when you saw your aunt there, talking to the gardener.

“Auntie?” you called out and she turned around, a look of surprise flashing over her face.

“Y/N my dear!” she said. “What are you doing here?”

“I just wanted to see if you needed any help before tonight,” you answered. “And to see the garden while I’m at it.”

“Oh that’s sweet of you,” she said and came to hug you, then pulled back to look at you better. “No need for that, almost all the preparations are finished.”

“In that case, can I see the ballroom?” you asked with a laugh. “I’m curious, you’ve been working on it for so long.”

She hesitated for a moment, then waved a hand in the air. “What would be the surprise then?”

You huhed.

“That’s fair,” you said. “Anyways, I have a surprise guest for the ball, you will lose your mind when you see him and so will the ton—”

“Y/N, perhaps you should go home and get some rest,” your aunt cut you off almost in a distracted manner. “It’ll be a long night tonight, you know?”

You tilted your head in confusion.

“Are you sure you’re alright auntie?”

“…Of course,” she said after a pause. “Just—you know, preparing a ball is rather stressful.”

“I can imagine,” you said. “One of the many reasons why I will never throw a ball I think.”

She smiled at you, but it faded when her eyes found something over your shoulder. You pulled your brows into a frown and turned around to follow her line of sight, but as soon as you did, you froze. You could feel your whole body stiffening, your heart leaping to your throat as you stared at the familiar face who had the audacity to smile at you, that throbbing pain in your wrist coming back in full force.

“I hear congratulations are in order?”

You weren’t sure how you found your voice, but somehow you managed to speak through frozen lips.

“Hello father.”

Chapter 34

#benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #regency fic

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