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whyse7vn · 9 months ago

Text

PALENTINES -

[ ot7 x reader ]

SINGLE LADIES 😁🔥

8 participants - 8 online

———————————

tae: gave my gf an hour long whimpering audio for valentines day

namjoon: you make me sick

jimin: this definitely counts as harassment

jk: yoongi got me a plastic fork

yoongi: yw

y/n: the audio was 5 minutes long????

tae: ok but i sent it to you 20 times

do the math????

jin: you sat there and whimpered into ur phone for 5 minutes that’s crazy

don’t you feel any shame??

tae: why would i feel shame?

it’s called being in love jin

you should try it sometime

jimin: it’s called harassment

hobi: ew man

jk: free asmr :D

jin: it’s gonna be free tae from jail soon

tae: no it won’t

jimin: ur right when you get locked up no one’s gonna want you free

hobi: KEEP TAE IN JAIL 🗣️💯

jk: personally i would want tae free

jimin: personally ur not real so it doesn’t matter what you want

jk: :ᗡ

hobi: ew how the hell did you flip it

i hate that

jk: :ᗡ

hobi: HOW DID YOU DO THAT

jk: :ᗡ

hobi: STOP GO AWAY I HATE IT

namjoon: yoongi got jungkook a present this year?

yoongi: not by choice

y/n: it was by choice

hobi: it was a plastic fork

yoongi: a plastic fork not given by choice

y/n: yoongi

yoongi: no

y/n: please

yoongi: no

y/n: pretty please :3

yoongi: it was by choice

y/n: see told you!

yoongi: don’t understand why we have to buy each other shit on this holiday anyways

i like ONE of you not all of you

tae: am i the one you like be honest

yoongi: bye

y/n: it’s our silly little tradition don’t be a loser yoongi

yoongi: whatever

jin: ok anyways who ordered me a fucking marching band???

jk: idk but did you like it??

y/n: gonna take a wild guess and say it was jungkook

namjoon: i thought you have his card how did he order that??

y/n: he has apple pay now i can’t stop him 😕

hobi: wait no fair

jin did NOT deserve a marching band all he got me was his butter photocard???

jimin: he got me that too….

jk: OMG ME TOO >_<

tae: i don’t feel special anymore

namjoon: really jin?

y/n: mine was signed!!

yoongi: cheap

jin: you literally got kook a plastic fork?

yoongi: he loves it

jungkook tell him you love it

jk: i love it

yoongi: see

jin: whatever don’t care

jimin: namjoon got me a fucking book

jin: lol that’s crazy cuz you can’t read

jk: i’m sorry to hear you can’t read jimin hope you can soon :/

namjoon: i put a lot of thought into the book i got you

jin: that’s cute but he can’t read so

jk: i wish i was a book

tae: if you’re a book does that make you a tree?

jk: guys

y/n: no jungkook

jk: oh ok

jimin: i CAN read btw

yoongi: don’t care

jin: sounds like fake news

jk: omg wow ur a fast learner jimin you can read now!!!

jimin: ur talking way too much today

you should stop

jk: is he talking to me????

hobi: y/n got me a holiday to australia

i’m not gonna go cuz like bugs

but that was really nice

y/n: you’re welcome!!!!

tae: k but i got sex

y/n deleted this message!

tae: 😕

silencing me like they did MLK

jimin: what

jk: milk

hobi: did you just compare urself to mlk?

jin: yeah never say that again

tae: why not?? it’s true

yoongi: you are nothing like mlk

jk: tae ur not milk

namjoon: taehyung do not compare yourself to martin luther king ever again please and thank you

jk: or milk

y/n: and in black history month too…

tae: you don’t understand me or him

y/n: yeah ok

back to gifts

joon got me some really pretty flowers

jimin: boringggggggg he does that every year

jk: namjoon got me wood

hobi: ?

namjoon: statue

it’s a wooden statue thing

not just wood

tae: joon giving other boys wood for valentines ☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️

u wanna know who i gave MY wood too

y/n deleted this message!

namjoon: tae shut up

jin: saw that

tae: i’m just like mlk i’m telling you man

y/n: stop

tae: sorry

jimin: hobi got me shoes

hobi: i did

jk: hobi got me cheese

hobi: expensive cheese

y/n: i took yoongi to those cute photo booth things

yoongi: they didn’t need to know that

y/n: yes they did

we are sharing what we got each other

read the room yoongi

jimin: yeah yoongi read the room

tae: how tf u read a room??!

a room not a book ☠️☠️

u guys dumb as hell

jin: you not knowing what reading a room means makes a lot of sense actually

jk: send photobooth pics ^0^

bet u looked so cute

not you yoongi

y/n

her

not yoongi

i’m talking to y/n NOT you yoongi btw

yoongi: shut up

and no

you’ll never see those photos

jk: ☹️

hobi: so what did yoongi get y/n??

yoongi: don’t worry

tae: personally i’m worried

jk: me 2 guys yoongi is really scary

what if he killed her

y/n: ?

jin: i want to blow jungkook up

jk: i’m no ballon 😭

jimin: probably fucked for valentines let’s be real

tae: well that’s obviously NOT true lmao 😜 ☠️

yoongi: why is that “obviously” not true

we could of

tae: you didn’t

yoongi: and you know how?

tae: cuz i just know

yoongi: yeah ok

we could of for all you know

on the actual day too

tae: you weren’t even with her on valentine’s day

yoongi: and you were?

y/n: he wasn’t

tae: ok

but i could of been

yoongi: but clearly you weren’t

tae: neither were you

namjoon: both of you stop

tae: idk why yoongi acts all high a mighty

especially when it comes to her

y/n: ok that’s crazy

how about you don’t talk about me like i’m not here!

yoongi: idk why taehyung acts like he has a chance lmao

jk: guys

tae: that’s actually crazy

you’d be fucking surprised yoongi!!!!

yoongi: what’s that supposed to mean?

tae: what do you think it means?

tell me yoongi

guess

i’ll tell you if you’re right or not

yoongi: shut the fuck up

tae: or what?

hobi: why this kinda sexualllll

jimin: like 😭😭😭😭

y/n: LMAO STOP

jin: arguing over pussy that belongs to neither of them is crazy i’m just saying

jk: pussy \ ^0^ /

namjoon: how about we all stop arguing and move back to talking about the gifts we got eachother !!

hobi: jungkook got me a ballon

jk: yeah

do you love it

hobi: sure

jk: ^_^

jimin: personally i think hobi’s lying to you kook

jk: WHAT

jimin: i think he hates his ballon actually

jk: hobi pls say he’s lying

hobi: he’s lying

you see it may seem that way because on the outside im a very chill and nonchalant man

y/n: that is not true actually!

hobi: but on inside i am actually very chalant

EXTREMELY chalant no joke

so basically inside im going fucking crazy over the ballon jungkook gave me but it just doesn’t seem like that cuz im a chill guy

jk: but inside ur chalant

hobi: exactly

jk: jimin why would you lie to me

jimin: ur easy to lie to

jk: no im not

jimin: namjoon died in a car crash 24 hours ago

jk: NO NAMJOON OHHMYGOD NAMJOON NO

namjoon: i am not dead

jk: oh

y/n: how did you fall for that

namjoon cant even drive

jk: oh yeah

lol namjoon cant drive guys

namjoon: ok we all know

hobi: so what did you guys actually do on valentine’s day

jk: minecraft but then it got too scary so i played valorant instead

jimin: idk what any of that means but ok

i personally watched movies with joon

namjoon: yeah

i dropped by kook’s and y/n’s place first tho to give my gifts and stuff

hobi: where was my movie invite?????

jimin: we did call you

you were like high as hell

hobi: oh

wow

how real of me

jin: i cooked steak

jimin: for urself?

typical

jin: kys

for me and y/n actually

y/n: …

jin: my fault

yoongi: what

tae: oh

jk: SHE SAID SHE WAS BUSY

TTAHSTNOT FAIIROGJKFNKLDVLKFNKLFHKLNNDKVHNFKVNKLGNGR UFHDFHDKJ GHDKLNGFKLNGFG FHJDJHHGR DHGGRHBDNBF JGHKJGHGR

hobi: ????????????????????

namjoon: cool

jimin: jin???? out of everyone JIN??????

why would you fuck jin

jk: WHATR OHMYGOF WHAT?????? SHUT UP

jimin: on valentine’s day too…..

even fucking ME would make more sense than jin right now

jin: tf is that supposed to mean?

jimin: i said what i said lmao

tae: she cant of fucked jin

cuz she’s fucking me

yoongi: LMAOOOO

u really think your special dont you

thats crazy

jk: WHYIS EVERYONEFUCKING MY GIRLFRIENDOHMGYOJFDJFDKJDSDB

hobi: i dont get it even if she was fucking tae why couldn’t she fucked jin too?

y/n: i am like right here you know

tae: because me and her are serious

yoongi: serious???

you are just a rebound

tae: yoongi i think you’re just upset she didn’t come to you first after the whole jaehyun thing

yoongi: i’m glad she didn’t actually because now i know for sure i’m not rebound

you are

tae: shut the fuck up

yoongi: why? you getting upset?

idk why you’re acting like the victim here when you’re using her for the same thing

hobi: woah??

jimin: cap taehyung bitchless

yoongi: it’s time you stop using y/n to get over jennie and grow some fucking balls

jin: hold on

jimin: WAITTTTTTTT

hobi: SHUT FUCKING DOWN FR????

jk: imgonnapassout

y/n: oh

namjoon: yoongi

tae: i am not using y/n to get over jennie and you know that

hobi: wait ur fr??? taejennie was fr??

LIKE ACTUALLY?? OHMYGIDTHISISREAL??

yoongi: i know that? thats crazy how could i know that??

you didn’t even tell us about jennie

for over 3 months you were with her and you didn’t tell us

and then those photos of you and her were leaked and you were all depressed for ”no reason”

and now all of a sudden your obsession with y/n?

yeah you’re not using her you’re right i’m just fucking stupid aren’t i?

jimin: holy shit man

tae: i am not using her

yoongi: so why is yeontan with jennie right now?

y/n: tae you told me he was with you parents?

tae: yeah

but

i didn’t tell you that because im using you or anything i just said that because i didn’t want to cause any problems

y/n: you lied to me

for no reason

if you told me the truth it would of been fine

tae: i know

y/n: so when i came over

were you planing on sleeping with me anyways?

were you mad at yourself for calling jennie and leaving yeontan with her?

did you use me to help forget about it?

tae: did you use me to help get over jaehyun?

y/n: no

i can tell you that in full confidence no

now answer my question

tae: you know i would never do that to you

y/n: its a yes or no question taehyung

tae: i would never do that to you

yoongi: yes or no you asshole

tae: shut the fuck up

yoongi: answer her question

tae: leave me the fuck alone

tae left “SINGLE LADIES😁🔥”

jk: wow

y/n: didn’t sleep with jin btw

jk: ohthankgod

y/n: did sleep with tae once

we are NOT serious

jk: double ohthankgod

wait

y/n: and now i am going to sleep

jungkook come cuddle

gn all

jk: ON MY WAY OHMYGOD IM ON MY WAY

jimin: good night …

hobi: nite!!

yoongi: gn

jin: goodnight

namjoon: gn

DOWNBAD😭🫵🏻 #2 (minus tae)

6 participants - 5 online

———————————

namjoon: yoongi that wasn’t fair

yoongi: i know

but she deserved to know

and he wasn’t gonna tell her any time soon

hobi: YOU AND NAMJOON KNEW THIS TAEJENNIE WAS REAL THIS WHOLE TIME????

yoongi: i just found out

namjoon knew longer

namjoon: not that long

jimin: ok but how do you know tae is using her fr?

yoongi: it’s not hard to connect the dots

jin: still you could be wrong

yoongi: well he didn’t deny it did he?

jimin: to me it looked like he didn’t know if he was using her or not

yoongi: well he needs to figure that out soon it’s not fair to her

or him ig

but mainly her.

—

hate this don’t care about anything bring back yellow….

tags: @piw6n @92jinnies @birdie-vhs @kooksmilitarywife @hob3loveofmylife @jujubiism @bloopkook @ratchetpizza1 @myntalks @arloo00 @watamotee33 @y2kcy3brz @taiwan0618 @freyadanvers @gguksbeloved @raetf @bbsantc @winuvs @medicinemybish @bxnnyhime @leleluvsbts @baetukki @zyaaaszn @thelilbutifulthings @jazminethecreator @k4ngelz @jmnscutie @threeopossumsinacoat @cynicalyoongs @lightningpussy54 @eunthv @gigiiiiislife @lowkeykin @elissasimp @socksfirstalways @knjlvr06 @lailaisarmy @thvkives @xstfudaisyx @xxxanimangxxx @solstice34 @ml8dy @hoeforseoks

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goldfades · 6 months ago

Note

ok maybe i lied, because i have 2 more um...... i have a lot of ideas anyways so

hear me out a 🥭 for the prompt [Impede - One person is attempting to get ready to go somewhere while the other kisses/touches/attempts to undress them all the while] and we all know i'm a caitlin girlie so i think we all know who i want....... i hope

- 🪐 (nexts one's gonna be the last i promise)

evangeline's 2.5k celebration !! [closed!]

─ warnings | no nsfw but kinda suggestive, i know u wanted smut but idk this is mostly sweet fluffiness (there's cait smut coming though), allusions to sex though

"BABY PLEASE," YOU sighed as caitlin's hands began to rub your waist, her hands snaking around it.

she was standing behind you, a smirk evident in her face as she maintained an innocent demeanor. her touch was soft and teasing, making it hard for you to focus on getting ready for the work event. you had been trying to choose the right outfit for the past half hour, and caitlin's playful interruptions were not helping.

"i really need to finish getting dressed," you said, trying to sound firm but unable to keep the amusement out of your voice as you met her gaze through the mirror. "i have to leave in like 30 minutes and you know how my boss feels about being on time,"

caitlin's fingers traced small circles on your stomach, sending shivers down your spine. "but you look so much hot like this," she murmured, her breath warm against your ear. "are you sure we can't be a little late?"

you turned to face her, your resolve weakening as you met her playful gaze. "you know how important this event is, right?"

she pouted, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "more important than spending some quality time with me?" her lips brushed against your neck, making you gasp softly.

"you, cait are a terrible distraction," you said, unable to stop a smile from spreading across your face. you gently pushed her hands away, though you lingered longer than necessary. "promise we'll have all the quality time you want after this, okay?"

caitlin sighed dramatically, but the smile on her face showed she was relenting. "fine, go be all professional and impressive. i'll just be here, waiting for you."

you quickly turned back to the mirror, trying to refocus on your task. as you adjusted your dress (the tight one you know caitlin loves), you couldn't help but glance at caitlin through the reflection. she was lounging on the bed, watching you with a look that made it clear she wasn't done with her teasing.

"okay," you said, straightening your back. "how do i look?"

caitlin sat up, her eyes raking over you appreciatively. "sexy, sexy and sexy. and like someone who's about to knock 'em dead at that event."

you laughed at her compliments, feeling your cheeks flush as you leaned down to give her a quick kiss, unable to resist. "thank you, baby. wish me luck?"

"you don't need luck. you've got this in the bag," caitlin smiled, her expression softening. "and i'll be waiting here for you, with the stra-"

"caitlin!" you laughed as she shrugged, plopping back on the bed with a smirk.

"what! you're gonna need a good celebration after, right?" caitlin teased as you gave her a mock pointed look, walking over to the dresser and grabbing your clutch (yes, the designer one she bought for you).

you smiled and blew her a kiss, "yeah, yeah."

caitlin laughed as she pretended to grab the air kiss and put it in her pocket. "bye, baby. i love you,"

"i love you too!"

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

#caitlin clark #caitlin clark x reader #caitlin clark imagine #caitlin clark headcannons #caitlin clark smut #wbb #iowa wbb #wnba basketball #iowa hawkeyes #wnba x reader #wnba #indiana fever #wbb x reader #wbb smut #wcbb x reader

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lifeafterartsch00l · 3 months ago

Text

My fav sns smut

or some of it anyway

If Naruto x Sasuke fking nasty is your ☕️

I tried to find all these beloved authors to tag them, but I couldn’t find them all, if you know who they are, plz tag them! Let’s share the ❤️

In no particular order

Healing the Broken by KizuKatana

When people tell me about smut they read in printed books I’m like

Because it’s fics like these that amaze me with their ingenuity, creativity, originality, and boldness 🔥🔥🔥

AKA

This fic isn’t just PWP (although that’s fine too in my book), it’s so well written with character development, action & romance ❤️‍🔥 Predators by the same author is also excellent 👌🏽

Thx u @kizukatana 😊

“Chapters: 23/23

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Underage

Relationships: Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto

Characters: Uzumaki Naruto, Uchiha Sasuke

Additional Tags: Angst, SPOILERS MANGA CHAPTER 693, Drug Use, sex during drug use, Canon-Typical Violence, canon!sasuke, canon!naruto, Addiction, Slash, narusasunaru, Fix-It, my version of how it should have ended, Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, NSFW, Smut

Series: Part 1 of HTB universe

Summary: The war is over, and Sasuke is brought back to the village after his defeat by Naruto. But he is struggling to re-assimilate into the village. As his mental stability continues to erode, Tsunade and Kakashi ask Naruto to try a different treatment method. Naruto x Sasuke (slash - boy x boy). Post manga chapter 693.

Warning: Hard Yaoi (Boy x Boy) language, angst, mental illness, substance abuse, masturbation, eventual sex. Not appropriate for young readers. 18+

Disclaimer - As with everything I write on this site, I don't own the characters (Kishimoto does), and I make no money. My only payment is in reviews.

Spanish Translation by Linme (thank you!) “

[doujinshi] My Lost Himawari by SouthNorthSound

Me, to the artist (and English translator) of this visually stunning and well written doujinshi -

Seriously. It’s amazing. The visual metaphors. The angst. The way the artist can simply draw a single panel of a close-up Uchiha eye that is so outrageously sultry and sexy I don’t understand 🥵 one of the extra chapters unlocked something in me (the dream one). Bonus that it’s also really funny & has a lot of respect/empathy for its women characters too! If anyone knows who this artist plz let me know I would like to follow them until the end of the world ❤️ the ending healed me 💔

EDIT HOLY S*** GUYS I FOUND THE TRANSLATOR & ARTIST ON TUMBLR

Thx u @southnorthsound 😭❤️🫡🙇🏻‍♀️

Thx u @gigihorseinthehouse 😭 I love you I low key think you’re a genius ok sorry bye 👉🏽👈🏽

"https://archiveofourown.org/works/36581581

[doujinshi] My Lost Himawari by SouthNorthSound

Chapters: 60/60

Fandom: Naruto, Boruto: Naruto Next Generations

Rating: Mature

Relationships: Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto

Characters: Uchiha Sasuke, Uzumaki Naruto, Haruno Sakura, Hyuuga Hinata, Uchiha Sarada, Uzumaki Boruto, Uzumaki Himawari, Hatake Kakashi, Nara Shikamaru, Temari (Naruto), Nara Shikadai, Akimichi Chouchou, Gaara (Naruto)

Additional Tags: Fanart, Fan Comics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, SasuNaru - Freeform, NaruSasu - Freeform, Translation, Doujinshi, Fix-It, how it should have ended, Angst, If you don’t understand how they ended up like that in Boruto READ THIS, Poetic, comedic, Loyal to canon, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, NSFW Art, Sex

Summary: A love story consists of different perspectives and different memories. It’s about saudade / realization / entanglement / out of control / hope / restart

Chapter700 background

Warning: adult content in extra chapters

Fan comics, doujinshi. It's highly recommended to read it on big screens such as iPad or PC. So you can see details about their facial expressions

One of the best Naruto fanart I’ve ever seen. So I translated it ❤”

Inevitablity by Sanauria_Maldhun

If the answer is

A) Yes

B) Kinda

C) Mind your own business rando internet pervert

Congrats all answers are correct = GO READ IT PLZ

Possessive & desperate 🥵 super gay, delicious angst, really hot 🔥 very enjoyable - fun tropes, everything hits just right, utter perfection ❤️ I’m not saying a lot because I don’t want to give away spoilers 😍

I couldn’t find this author on tumblr, plz tag in the comments if you know who they are!

“Chapters: 4/4

Rating: Explicit

Relationships: Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto, Haruno Sakura/Yamanaka Ino

Characters: Uzumaki Naruto, Uchiha Sasuke, Yamanaka Ino, Haruno Sakura

Additional Tags: Fake/Pretend Relationship, (between Ino and Naruto), Mutual Pining, Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Banter, Domesticity, Pining, Naruto is so in love, and doesn't know how to handle his Feelings, Jealousy, Jealous Sasuke, Jealous Sakura, Post-Chapter 699 (Naruto), Explicit Sexual Content, Anal Sex, Gay Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Bottom Uzumaki Naruto, Top Uchiha Sasuke

Summary: Naruto's stressed and pining after a man who views him only as a friend. Deciding to get married to Ino isn't the best decision he's made (ever), given that they had been absolutely drunk while making such a declaration, but it's... a decision. Besides, what does he have to lose?”

You’ve gotten into my bloodstream (a bite of his heart) by lovenmaze

Nom nom nom 😉 kidding! Not literal cannibalism, it’s a metaphor for love, and this fic is beautiful 😍 poetic & sexy. One shot. Love how Naruto talks to Sasuke in this one (and makes him talk, too, hehe…) 🥵 delicious, please go tuck into this feast ❤️ author made an excellent fic playlist too!

Thx u @lovenmaze 😊

“https://archiveofourown.org/works/56430019

Chapters: 1/1

Rating: Not Rated

Relationships: Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto

Characters: Uchiha Sasuke, Uzumaki Naruto

Additional Tags: Cannibalistic Thoughts, Cannibalism imagery, First Time, Top Uzumaki Naruto, Bottom Uchiha Sasuke, Tender Sex, Blank Period (Naruto), Confessions, Idiots in Love, Not Beta Read, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Oral Sex, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emotional Sex, Eventual Fluff, Fluff and Smut, they’re both crazy about each other but thats not new, Poetic, Italicized Oh Moment, cannibalism as a metaphor for love, trust me it works and its SO good, consent is sexy !!!, lowkey vampire sasuke vibes

Summary: Sasuke tries to bite softly, he’s not going to eat him, maybe get a taste. Perhaps it’s stupid, but he wants to make sure, so he does. He opens his mouth, tongue touching the skin. His body shudders, and Naruto tastes warm, like skin or flesh; he tastes alive.

“A kiss is the beginning of cannibalism.”

AKA, The tender, fluffy, first-time, cannibalism (imagery), smut NaruSasu AU. [EDITED.]”

❤️Thx all u amazing authors u make me feel like this❤️

#naruto #naruto fic rec #naruto fic #sns #narusasu #sasunaru #sasunaru fic #a03 author #a03 writer #a03 fanfic #a03 link #a03 fic #read on a03 #smut #narusasu smut #my fic recs #lifeafterartsch00l fic recs

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asahicore · 2 years ago

Text

gorgeous - lhs

"you should take it as a compliment that i'm talking to everyone here but you / and you should think about the consequence of you touching my hand in a darkened room" - gorgeous by taylor swift

series masterlist - part one - part two - part three

prompt 45 of the 100 kisses list, "we shouldn't do this" but they do so anyway

pairing. best friend's brother!heeseung x fem!reader synopsis. Heeseung comes back from his first year of university a new man - forget nervous, fidgety, dorky Heeseung and say hello to confident, teasing, flirty Heeseung. This change of attitude doesn't help your longstanding crush on your best friend's brother, and neither does the rising tension between the two of you - a tension that is bound to explode. genre. f2l, did i mention this was a best friend's brother au?, only fluff in this part but more to come, perhaps suggestive due to tension between reader and hee and makeout session lol word count. 8.1k (yes an asahicore fic under 10k thank u very much) a/n. hi loves i'm super happy to be posting this bc its the very first fic out of the 100 kisses event and its a project im really excited about !!! i know i said like 2 days ago it'd take me a while to write this but i got super motivated over the weekend and it turned out shorter than i thought and bestie @k-ingzo zo did a super amazing job at beta reading this so i was able to post it really quickly !! anyways hope you enjoy this, pls lmk,, and hope u look forward to the rest of the series as well !! ok bye

Nine years ago

“Y/N, honey, come meet your new friends!”

You rushed down the stairs at your mom’s call - at eight, you were always excited by the idea of new friends. She’d also called Naeun down, but lately, your sister had been acting like doing anything your parents asked her would cost her her life.

There in your living room were four unfamiliar faces, but your parents were smiling warmly, so you weren’t too nervous. Instinctively, you found your mother’s side and she rested her hand on your head, bending down to talk to you.

“Y/N, these are the Lees, they’ve just moved to the neighborhood.”

“Hi,” you greeted shyly, and were met with four hi’s in return.

“Heeseung and Seeun here started going to the same school as you,” she informs, nodding her head towards the young boy and girl. Now that she said it, the boy looked really familiar. You thought you recognized him from school that day - his glasses were definitely memorable. “And Seeun is the exact same age as you!” Your face lit up at that, and her expression mirrored yours as her lips curled into a smile. “Why don’t you show her your room?”

“Sure! Come on,” you said, holding out your hand for Seeun to take. She looked back at her parents who were nodding vigorously at her to follow you. You just played for half-an-hour, and Heeseung joined you quickly, saying he was bored with the adults downstairs. He didn’t talk much, instead found some of your toys to play with in his own corner.

When the Lees left, you were thinking two things: one, you couldn’t wait to tell Chaeyeong about Seeun, and two, that boy with the big glasses was really, really cute.

Now

“Seeun, why the hell didn’t you tell us that your brother is a mega-hottie now?!”

This is what your friend Chaeyeong whisper-screams in lieu of a greeting as she barges in Seeun’s room, plopping down on her bed like it was her own. It might as well have been, considering how long the three of you had known each other.

“If you ever refer to my brother as a mega-hottie again, I’m terminating this friendship,” Seeun replies, not bothering to look up from the bead bracelet she was currently making.

“Oh please, just because you’re his sister doesn’t mean you haven’t noticed how attractive he’s gotten,” Chaeyeong insists, but it just makes Seeun scrunch her nose in disgust.

“Chaeyeong, please stop making it so obvious you’re an only child,” Seeun sighs. You let out a giggle at your friends’ conversation as you search for another color that could go well with the pink beads you’d chosen for your own bracelet.

Stealthily, Chaeyeong leaves her spot on the bed and sneaks up to you. “Y/N!” she exclaims suddenly, wrapping her arms around your shoulders in a sneak-attack hug that makes you yelp. It makes you drop your half-finished bracelet, the beads falling all over the carpeted floor around you. You look up at Chaeyeong with a pout, but she just smiles at you and starts picking up the beads, gathering the tiny pink jewels in the palm of her hand.

“Y/N, you’re with me on this one, aren’t you?”

You ignore Seeun’s side-eye and give in to Chaeyeong’s encouraging expression. “I guess he does look very…” you pause to carefully consider your word choice. “Different,” you settle on.

“Different? That’s it? Y/N, you should really consider getting some glasses, seeing how you’re so blind to hot boys.” Cue a loud groan, Seeun’s courtesy. You just giggle again, slightly shaking your head at Chaeyeong’s antics. She rolled her eyes, disappointed that you didn’t back her up, but she drops the subject and switches to Seeun’s upcoming birthday party. Something great about being generally quiet? People don’t question it when you don’t partake much in a conversation. You listen and laugh as your friends bicker, but your mind is on something else.

Or rather, it’s on someone else.

Because Chaeyeong is absolutely right - Seeun’s brother has glowed up so much during his time away at university that you had a double-take when he opened the door for you earlier.

The sentence this is so unfair plays over and over in your head.

You’d heard of the freshman fifteen, of college first-years being so stressed over grades and having so little time that their diet consisted of instant ramen, quick cafeteria lunches, and an ungodly amount of coffee. And alcohol, on Friday nights, of course. After seeing how freshman year treated your older sister, you were dreading going to college, imagining it to be the complete opposite of what TV and movies had shown you.

So how the hell had Lee Heeseung gone from high school loser to campus hearthrob in the span of a mere nine months? (After some thinking, you realized that, well, if a woman can create a whole human being in nine months, maybe a regular guy can undergo great physical and mental change in that time, too.)

In September, when you’d last seen him, he wore the same glasses he had for all of high school - those slightly crooked ones that made his eyes look even bigger than they already were. He always had to push them back up his nose but he never bothered to get them fixed, even though all they needed was for the arms to be tightened. You remember his tic-like habit of readjusting his glasses, a habit so strong that he did it even when he wasn’t wearing them. Maybe they bothered him so much that he decided to get rid of them once and for all, you guess.

Indeed, when he greeted you at his front door earlier (even after years of knowing Seeun and her family and no matter how much they reassure you that it’s okay, you’re unable to come in without knocking first, like Chaeyeong does), he wasn’t wearing his thick lenses you’d grown fond of. His eyes didn’t look unfocused like they usually would without glasses, so you assumed he’d switched to contact lenses - you knew it wasn’t Lasik surgery, because Seeun was always complaining that her parents wouldn’t pay for her or her brother to receive it.

But it wasn’t just the glasses, of course not. There was an ease and confidence about him that he didn’t have before - no awkward giggles, no darting eyes, no weirdly positioned limbs. He held the door open for you and kept his eyes on you as you walked in, saying it was nice to see you again and asking if you were happy to be done with high school. You already weren’t expecting Heeseung to open the door in Seeun’s stead, so him actually looking at you while he spoke instead of mumbling a few words in your general direction and scratching the back of his neck rendered you completely flustered, cheeks heating up embarrassingly quickly.

His hair was different: it used to sit there atop Heeseung’s head, unsure what to do with itself, but now it was purposefully cut and slightly pushed back. When he turned his head, you saw something shiny dangling from his left ear.

Heeseung had a piercing. Shy, nervous, fidgety electronics club president Heeseung had a goddamn piercing, and it looked amazing.

And then he laughed. He actually had the audacity to laugh, and then ruffle your hair. You could’ve died right then and there. “You’re still just as cute as before,” he mused, beaming down at you. Then he walked away towards the living room, saying Seeun was in her room upstairs. As if nothing happened. As if you weren’t on the verge of combusting, your saving grace being your friend’s voice calling out your name. You ran up the stairs, wanting to get as far away from Heeseung and his smile and his voice and his touch as possible. You busied yourself with the pearls and the small bracelet-making station Seeun had organized, trying not to think about the vein that ran down his forearm or about how his shoulders looked wider than before. And you’d managed to do that, until Chaeyeong brought him up.

It wasn’t unfair because he’d grown mysteriously hot - it was unfair because to you, Heeseung had always been the cutest boy around, but now other people had surely noticed too, Chaeyeong amongst them. Now, you were just one of the many girls that had a crush on Heeseung, even if yours dated back to the first time you’d met him when the Lees moved into the neighborhood.

Their parents had been delighted that two girls of their daughter’s age - eight, to be precise - lived on their street. You were delighted that the cute boy you’d seen at school that day was her big brother, just one year older. Chaeyeong and you gladly welcomed Seeun into your friendship and you had each other’s back through the awkward phases of your early teenage years and the stressful times as high school seniors getting ready for college. You shared everything - clothes, jewelry, homework answers, gossip, tears, laughter. Secrets.

You liked to think there wasn’t a thing you didn’t know about them, but you couldn’t say the opposite was true - there was a secret you had to keep from them. A secret that grew bigger and bigger as time passed, but that you needed to keep locked in.

You had the biggest crush known to mankind on your best friend’s brother. It was either keep quiet or tell both of your friends; you trusted Chaeyeong, but you didn’t want her to carry that burden. You had no idea what Seeun’s reaction would be if you admitted you liked her brother, but you didn’t want to risk it. Every best friend’s brother (or brother’s best friend) romance you’d read had told you that the former was always against and deeply disgusted by the idea of their friend dating the latter. The last thing you wanted to do was make things weird, so you said nothing and suffered in silence, as one does. And so, for years, Heeseung was your little secret.

But not anymore, apparently. And it felt unfair. You didn’t have much of a chance to begin with, but now, getting with Heeseung was inimaginable. You’d just have to continue pining from far away, just as you’d gotten used to.

Four years ago

Your heart pounded as you made your way to the bus stop, steps heavy and head full of thoughts. Even though your older sister told you there’s nothing to worry about, you couldn’t help it. You were used to walking to school, not taking the bus. After three years of seeing the same people roaming the hallways, it was nerve-wracking to arrive at a place where most faces would be completely unfamiliar. You didn’t know what your teachers would be like, you were scared your classes would be a hundred times harder than before, you heard the cafeteria food was really bad. In short, you were absolutely dreading high school. And today was your first day.

The only thing that calmed you down was knowing that in a few minutes, you’d be with Seeun and Chaeyeong, and just seeing them would make you feel instantly better. You were meeting at the bus stop.

But when you reached it, neither of your friends were there. You shouldn’t have been surprised, since you’d come ten minutes early, but you couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed. That is, until you recognized someone else.

“Heeseung?” you called out before you could stop yourself. The boy snapped his head in your direction, and his eyes widened at the sight of you. Simple things like that made your heart burst with adoration for him.

“Oh, h-hi, Y/N.” He smiled the shy smile you loved so much and looked back at his feet, holding on tightly to the straps of his backpack. You stood next to him, close enough to have a conversation if he wanted to but not so close that it’d be weird.

Heeseung was the only person you felt awkward around. Even though you were on the quieter side and strangers weren’t your favorite people per se, being around people you didn’t know well wasn’t your definition of torture like it seemed to be for Heeseung and other kids from your school. But Heeseung’s awkwardness was contagious, and your crush on him didn’t help your ease of mind - so you imitated his posture, swaying back and forth on your feet as you held onto your backpack straps just to have something to hold onto. You smiled at the ground, not wanting to make him uncomfortable by looking at him, but that meant you missed the growing blush on his cheeks.

“So,” he started, “nervous?” He glanced quickly, just once, at you. You were so surprised at his breaking the silence, used to a quiet Heeseung, that you forgot to answer, simply staring at him. His panicked expression and mumblings were what jolted you out of your daze. “I-I mean, you know, cause it’s your first day and everything, and I was really nervous last year- I am today, too, actually- so I thought maybe, you know, you’re nervous too, but maybe you’re not, I don’t-”

He said all of this so quickly, you started laughing, slightly bending over. He let out a chuckle too, but as you continued laughing, a pout started to form on his lips. “What’s so funny…” you heard him grumble as he kicked a non-existent pebble.

“Sorry,” you said, regaining your breath. “I’m sorry, Heeseung.” The sound of his name made him glance at you again. You wished you could kiss the pout off his lips. “I was nervous, actually. But I feel better now.”

A quick smile appeared on his lips, but he willed it away. “I’m glad my embarrassment made you feel better,” he sighed.

You gently kicked his shoe with yours to make him look at you. “No, it’s because you made me laugh. I needed it. Thanks,” you corrected with a smile. Heeseung may have made you feel awkward, but the easiness with which he always got flustered made you love to tease him slightly.

His smile widened as he looked away once more, the blush having spread to his whole face by then. “Whatever,” he murmured. There was no time to say anything else because Seeun called out your name, practically skipping towards you.

She gave you an excited hug as a greeting before turning towards her brother with a glare, punching him hard on the bicep, making him wince in pain and reach his hand to cover his arm where she hit him. “Thanks for waiting for me, loser.”

“You were gonna make us late!” he whined, rubbing his arm.

“Yeah, ‘cause I obviously missed the bus,” she tutted.

You watched the siblings with an amused smile, used to the exact same kind of banter at home. Your sister, who was in her last year of high school, had decided not to drive you for some reason only an older sister could make up and pretend was reasonable. Your parents had tried to convince her, but you didn’t mind taking the bus with your friends, so they didn’t push it, just glad they could somehow keep the both of you happy.

Heeseung didn’t say anything in return. Your eyes met for a moment, and his frown relaxed into a smile when he caught your expression. It lasted a second but it was enough to make your stomach twist. Seeun, oblivious, grabbed your arm and started telling you about all the things she was excited about for today. You were worried Chaeyeong wasn’t going to make it, but her footsteps were loud as she ran, reaching you just as the bus stopped in front of you. Heeseung took what you soon found out was his usual spot at the front of the bus while your friends dragged you towards the back of it. You tried not to let your thoughts drift towards the boy with the messy black hair and crooked glasses, but his shy smile replayed in your mind all day. For a year, you’d gotten used to not going to the same school as him - you didn’t know how you’d survive seeing him at least five days a week once again.

Now

You were really determined to not let Heeseung’s newfound confidence sway you, physically shaking your head every time a thought of him popped in your head (useless) and racking your brain for reasons you shouldn’t like him (not many of those). There was just one teeny, tiny problem.

He was making it impossible to pine for him at a distance.

It seemed like everywhere you went, he was there. Maybe that was due to the fact that your most frequently visited place was literally his house, but still. It was frustrating. You didn’t need to be met with his stupid smile whenever he opened the door for you, you didn’t need to catch him cutely napping - how was that even possible?! - in the living room, a random sitcom still playing on the TV, you didn’t need to hear his laughter when his friends were over, and you definitely did not need to see him half-naked as he came out of the bathroom, hair wet from the shower and sticking to his forehead, towel wrapped low around his hips and his abs fully on display. Because of course, you had to be in the hallway, heading to the kitchen to get a glass of water, at the exact same time as him.

You almost start to resent the fact that Seeun had the comfiest bedroom out of the three of you, as well as the most snack-filled house, which was why you had decided years ago to hang out there the most. Especially during school breaks, you were there almost every day, so you were bound to see Heeseung a lot. But for some reason, that didn’t seem to be enough, and over the course of June, you also ran into him while shoe-shopping with your mom, then another time as you entered the public library just when he left it, and another when your friends and his had decided to get ice cream at the same time. It was like you couldn’t escape him.

The worst part? Every time he saw you, while you simultaneously wanted to run away from him and into his arms, his damnedly handsome face broke into a stupidly beautiful smile that looked far too genuine for your heart. “Y/N! Funny seeing you here!”

No, Heeseung, not funny.

You didn’t want to be that girl whose brain cells stopped working whenever she encountered an attractive male specimen, but that was apparently who you were meant to be, because all words left you when you saw Heeseung. Although you’d been somewhat flustered around him in the past, he was always much more so than you, which reassured you and gave you enough confidence to actually talk to him. But now that he had realized how handsome he was and was clearly using that newfound knowledge against you (or so you thought), you were unable to string a coherent sentence when his shiny eyes bore into yours.

You think he might’ve sensed your awkwardness, because he never lingered, never made useless small talk, just asked about your favorite ice cream flavor or the book he’d checked out, patted your head, then was on his way.

There were so many butterflies in your stomach, you were scared it might fly away.

One afternoon in the middle of July, you and your friends come back from the city pool completely exhausted after playing around for hours in the water. All bundled up and close together, you try to nap on Seeun’s bed. Keyword try, because even though your friends’ soft snores quickly start to fill the silence of the room, you can’t seem to fall asleep, no matter how heavy your eyes feel.

Quietly, you get out of bed and head downstairs to the kitchen, hoping a cold glass of water will help sleep come to you like it usually does. You shouldn’t be surprised to see Heeseung in the dining room/kitchen area, busy with a puzzle, the pieces of which he’s spread out all over the table, but your heart still does a flip. He must be really engrossed in it, because he doesn’t notice your presence in the room until you fill a glass with ice, the sudden sound making his head snap up at you. You hate that his face breaks into a grin as soon as he sees you.

“Oh, hey, Y/N! What are you doing?”

“Just getting some water,” you explain, raising your glass with a small smile. Your whole body tells you to run away, back to Seeun’s bedroom, but something in your gut tells you to stay, to get closer to Heeseung. So you do. “What about you?” you ask, slowly making your way towards the table and peering at the puzzle in progress.

“Just whipping up some brownies,” he retorts with a devilish smirk, big eyes looking up at you.

You fight back a smile in vain. “Shut up,” you mumble, but take a seat next to him anyway. He seems slightly taken aback by the sudden proximity, and you are too, but you keep your gaze focused on the puzzle in front of you so that you can’t think too much about how close you’re sitting, and how your knees could touch if you angled them just so.

For a small while you sit in silence, watching as he puts pieces together and even finding a couple of your own. It’s a one-thousand piece jigsaw that he’s clearly only just started, but Heeseung doesn’t seem fazed by that. You like seeing how his eyebrows slightly furrow when he’s searching for a particular piece, and the pleased smirk that graces his lips when he finds it. You break the silence after a few minutes.

“So you still like puzzles, then?” you ask, voice low. You’ve always been told you speak quietly - even too quietly sometimes, but you can’t always help it. Especially in situations like this, when it’s silent around you anyways, you don’t see the point of raising your voice. When Heeseung replies, he speaks at the same volume as you, and there’s something comforting about it, about speaking quietly in such a spacious and sunlit room - the words you share are for you two, and you two only.

“Yep, ever since that day.” He glances quickly at you and smiles at the piece in his hand, and it’s like getting a glimpse of the Heeseung you had known all those years. Your heart warms at the sight.

“That day?”

This makes him look properly at you, his eyes darting back and forth between yours as if searching for something there. Your heart is now on fire. “Don’t you remember?”

You tilt your head in response and he turns his attention back to the puzzle. “It was at this table, too. I think your grandparents- your grandma, I think? Anyway, someone had gotten you a puzzle for your birthday.”

You ‘ah’ in realization. “Of course!”

Two years ago

“Y/N, I’m sorry, I don’t think I can do this, it’s so complicated,” Seeun pouted apologetically, looking at you sadly. “We’ve been here like an hour and we’ve barely gotten anywhere.”

Chaeyeong, head on the table, groaned in agreement. You followed your friend’s gaze to the puzzle in front of you - she was right, you hadn’t made much progress. But you liked it. The picture was pretty and you’d like to see it completed, but more than that, you liked finding the right piece, figuring out strategies.

You hummed, mirroring Seeun’s pout. Chaeyeong snapped her head back up to look at you. You’d think she hadn’t slept in days, but that was just bored Chaeyeong. You loved your friend and her over-dramatic antics. “Can we just take a break?” she asked, tone like you’d kidnapped and forced her to do this.

“You guys go ahead.” You smiled. “I like it, I can just continue this for a while and you guys do whatever you want.” The three of you spent so much time together that you didn’t need to be doing an activity together to be happy - being in each other’s general vicinity was enough to be considered a hang-out.

“You sure?” Seeun asked.

“Yeah, ‘course.” You chuckled at the obvious relief on your friend’s faces. “Just don’t watch the next Extraordinary You episode without me, okay?”

They both gasped and clutched their hearts like you’d accused them of murder. “How could you even think that, Y/N?!” Chaeyeong exclaimed.

“We would never!” Seeun added.

You shook your head at your friends’ antics, laughing as you waved them off. “Just go, already.”

“Yes, ma’am!” And with that, they were off, running up the stairs to Seeun’s bedroom.

You were only on your own for around ten minutes - the front door opened and closed, and the quiet shuffle of shoes being taken off and replaced with slippers let you know Heeseung had just come home. Seeun always made a show of being exhausted after school, groaning as she threw her backpack to the ground, while Mr and Mrs Lee always announced their arrival with a sometimes cheery, sometimes tired ‘I’m home!’. But Heeseung, quiet as always, simply set his backpack next to the stairs, slipped into his slippers and made his way to the kitchen, fond of a quick snack after school. Even Chaeyeong made herself more known when she entered the Lee household.

Every day except for Fridays, he came home two hours later than his sister because of either magic or electronics club (yes, magic club. It was cute, okay?!). You always looked forward to the monthly meeting of the book club you were in, partly because it meant you could take the bus back with Heeseung afterwards. Even if the ride was usually mainly silent, just sitting next to him was enough for your heart to do all sorts of tricks worthy of an Olympic gymnast.

“Oh, hey, Y/N,” he greeted softly, probably surprised at seeing you alone at the dinner table.

“Hi, Heeseung. How was the electronics club?” You wanted to make conversation, but you winced immediately at your words - was it normal for you to know what club he had on what days?

But Heeseung seemed to pay it no mind, just smiling shyly, a blush already creeping on his cheeks. “It was nice, thanks.” He opened the fridge, taking out a carton of milk. “Do you want a glass?” When you didn’t respond immediately, he was quick to add, “Of milk? O-or orange juice? Or I can make some tea, if you want-”

His hands were already busy with preparing whatever drink he thought you might want. You held back a chuckle and smiled as you answered, “Milk is fine, thanks.”

His blush spread all the way down his neck and you turned your attention back to the puzzle so he wouldn’t see your grin. “Right, milk. Milk,” he stammered, then got two glasses out of the cupboard.

You loved moments like these with Heeseung - flustered, light-hearted, slightly awkward, moments that made you want to giggle out of nerves and delight. Basically every moment with him was like this, so it’d be more accurate to say you loved every moment with him.

“I didn’t know you liked puzzles,” he said, an upward tilt to his voice, as he set your glass next to you and took a seat across from you. He peered down at the pieces spread out in front of you, fixed his glasses on his nose, and took a big gulp of milk.

“I didn’t either,” you said with a chuckle, and stammered out an explanation when he looked up at you questioningly. “My, um, my grandma gave this to me for my birthday last month. She’s got a lot of grandkids, you know, and I think she might’ve mixed up my other cousin who likes puzzles and me…” Heeseung nods slowly, the corners of his lips tugging up in amusement. “But I don’t mind it,” you add, “I’m having fun, actually. Seeun and Chaeyeong are of a different mind, though. It’s a bit hard doing it on my own but I like it anyway.”

“I can help you,” he suddenly blurted out, and he looked just as surprised at his words as you were. “If you want.”

You smiled at him, and Heeseung and you actually looked at each other, actually held eye contact for three seconds, until you felt your face burn and had to look away. “Sure, yeah, that’d be nice.”

Although it took some time to finish the puzzle - putting 500 pieces together was a lot trickier than you thought it’d be - Heeseung and you managed to do it, high fiving celebratorily after almost two hours of hard work.

Now

“I just had a lot of fun that day.” Heeseung shrugs. “Plus, I already liked things like Legos and Rubik’s cubes, so it made sense I’d like puzzles, too.”

You nod in response, watching as he twirls a puzzle piece between his thumb and middle finger. “It’s funny that my grandma’s mistake is what made you discover your love for puzzles.”

Heeseung chuckles along with you, and you’re relieved the atmosphere is somewhat lighter than before until he looks straight into your eyes, locking your gaze in his own, and a breath gets trapped in your throat. “I’m glad she did that, otherwise we wouldn’t be here right now.”

You’re still staring at him, dumbfounded, mouth agape, when he looks away with a smirk and turns his attention back to the puzzle, analyzing it seriously as if nothing happened. You come back to your senses after a few seconds, clearing your throat before imitating Heeseung and trying to focus on the puzzle once again. But that’s hard to do when your hands brush ever-so-slightly every time you fumble around the pile for a particular piece, or every time he hits your knee with his, inadvertently or to tease you, you’re not sure.

The first thing to do when starting a puzzle is looking for all the side pieces to build the frame. When Heeseung spots one in the pile next to you, he leans in to grab it, and he’s suddenly close enough for you to get a whiff of his cologne that had faded over the day. You think he’ll just take the piece and sit back in his seat, but instead, he turns his head towards you, and that’s when you realize just how close you are. Close enough that it wouldn’t be hard to close the gap and have your lips on his - just as the thought hits you, his eyes drift down to your parted lips. Is he thinking the same thing?

You take a sharp breath in, eyes fixed on Heeseung, mind racing with thoughts and assumptions of what might be going through his head right now. But your brain goes haywire when a smirk blooms on his lips, clearly enjoying your reaction. His gaze finds your eyes once more and he raises the piece between the two of you, in the small space that separates you. “Got it,” he says quietly, voice lower than usual. It makes your insides melt. He could be very well talking about you - he’s got you absolutely wrapped around his finger, and he seems to know it.

He turns back to the puzzle, smirk still on his lips, and you’re so embarrassed and confused that your flight instinct kicks in. The screech of your chair as you push it back and stand up makes Heeseung look up at you again, his smirk having dissolved in surprise and - disappointment?

No time to ponder, you need to get. out. of. here.

“Right, well, that was fun, haha,” you breathe out, actually saying the word ‘haha’ and wanting to run away even more thereafter. “I should probably head back to the girls, now.” You’re already backing up and walking away when Heeseung calls out your name, but you just turn around and rush back upstairs, yelling out a small “bye, Heeseung!” on your way.

You’re already back in Seeun’s bedroom when Heeseung shakes his head at your sudden disappearance, an amused smile playing on his lips. “Cute,” he says under his breath.

To minimize any chances of running into Heeseung, over the next two weeks, you ask Chaeyeong and Seeun if you could hang out at your house more often, using the excuse that you want to spend as much time as possible there before leaving off to college. They don’t question it too much - next year, they’ll be able to come back fairly regularly to their parent’s houses, since the college they’re going to is less than an hour-long car ride away, but you’ll be further away, too far to come back home often.

It just so happens to be the university Heeseung is studying at, but you don’t need to worry about that right now. They had one of the best English Lit programs in your area and you’d been wanting to go there for all of your high school years - you used to think of Heeseung’s going there as a pro, but right now, it felt more like a con.

You manage to only run into him twice over the course of those two weeks, and both times, just in passing. But now it’s the night of Seeun’s birthday party and it’s impossible to pretend he isn’t there even when you’re in a crowded room together. Heeseung and Seeun’s parents have lended their house for their kids to have a party there, using it as an opportunity to have a date night, and Heeseung and his friends have graciously provided a big portion of the alcohol, saying it was their birthday gift.

You aren’t the biggest fan of alcohol, so you opt for the fruitier, lighter drinks, but still, two hours after the party starts, you can already feel your head start to spin, your voice is louder, everything makes you laugh. When a friend from school tells you they’re playing seven minutes in heaven in the hallway upstairs, you think that's the funniest thing you’ve ever heard and immediately agree to join.

The sight of Heeseung sitting in the circle, already looking at you with a lopsided smile, almost sobers you up completely.

You’d tried to avoid him as best as you could, but it was like you couldn’t escape him - maybe that was due to the fact that the heart of the party was kept to the kitchen and the living room, just a few people sitting on the stairs at the entrance to get away from the noise, but still, it annoyed you to no end that you had to keep seeing him everywhere. Maybe that was also what made the alcohol easier to down.

At some point, you were in the kitchen, doing a shot of God-knows-what with girls from school. You heard his voice before you saw him, and it made you roll your eyes but also your heart skip a beat. “Didn’t know you were such a drinker, Y/N.” You could hear the smirk in his voice, and when his face came into view, you wanted to slap it away. Or kiss it away, maybe.

“I’m not, I’m just trying to have fun,” you retorted, eyebrows slightly furrowed as you poured yourself another shot. I Gotta Feeling by Black Eyed Peas started playing in the next room and the girls shrieked before rushing to the made-up dancefloor. You wanted to join them, but something kept your feet firmly planted at the kitchen counter.

Before you could bring the shot glass to your lips, however, Heeseung stole it from you and downed it himself. “Hey!” you protested, but it was done, and he was scrunching his nose at the bitter taste, shaking his head. You wished he could stop being attractive for one damn second.

“You don’t need that to have fun.”

He placed his forearms on the kitchen counter and leaned on them, forcing him to look up at you. You had no idea what the hell he meant by that, nor did you want to try and figure it out - all you knew was that you couldn’t stay there with him when he looked at you so intently, cheeks flushed from the alcohol, hair perfectly disheveled and biceps apparent even under his t-shirt sleeves.

“You’re right, I don’t,” you made yourself say, and spun on your heels to join your friends on the dancefloor.

And a few drinks later, here you are, sitting in a circle on the hallway floor, Heeseung right in front of you, leaning back on his palms and looking down at you with that same stupid smirk once again.

The game goes as such: one person spins the bottle twice, and the people it lands on have to go to a bedroom closet for seven minutes (timed carefully by Jake, Heeseung’s friend who is taking this game very seriously) to do whatever they want, while the others occupy themselves with other games. When the seven minutes are up, the doors burst open, and you have to leave the closet.

And because it wouldn’t be any fun otherwise, after a few rounds, the bottle points straight at you, then straight at Heeseung, and before you know it, everyone except for Seeun is cheering, and Heeseung is holding out his hand for you to take, and you do, and he raises you up, and together, you head to his closet, as per the rules of this stupid middle-school game you should never have agreed to play in the first place. You can barely Seeun’s voice as she shouts, “Y/N, I trust you!”, which just makes Chaeyeong burst into laughter and whoop louder for you. You’d also barely registered Heeseung’s friends clapping each other’s backs, smiling like they were in on something.

The sound of the closet door shutting is what snaps you out of your daze. You hadn’t even realized Heeseung had kept your hand in his until he released it, leaning his back against one wall of the closet, facing you. All three bedrooms in the Lees’ house had built-in walk-in closets which meant you weren’t sandwiched between Heeseung and his clothes, but still, you wished you could put more distance between your two bodies - one step closer, and you were done for.

It wasn’t just Heeseung’s presence in the narrow space - it was his scent filling your nostrils, the combined smell of the cologne he was wearing, of the fabric softener on his clothes, and an unfamiliar scent you somehow recognized as unique to Heeseung, his skin, his hair, smells you’d wanted to discover for years but never got close enough to. Well, now you did. And it was intoxicating - you wanted more, wanted to bury your face in the crook of his neck and inhale. You wanted to know what his reaction would be, if he’d let you, if he’d push you away.

All those thoughts were running wild in your head. You didn’t know what to do with yourself. Your stomach was in messy knots, your hands were sweaty and you had no idea where to place them, your eyes wouldn’t stop darting around the dark room. Everywhere but Heeseung. You could feel his eyes on you, but you were too nervous to meet them.

Your breathing must’ve gotten loud enough for him to hear, because all of a sudden, you feel his hand take yours, and he’s stood up from his position against the wall, his body too close to yours for your heart to handle. His thumb rubs what he must think are comforting semi-circles on the back of your hand, but the touch just destroys any capability of thinking straight you had left.

“Y/N,” he calls out, and the sound of his voice makes your eyes close shut. You cannot give in. You had seen Seeun’s disgusted expression when you and Heeseung were picked for the game - if just the idea of you and her brother kissing repulses her, what would she say if she knew it actually happened, or if you started dating? You may have the biggest crush ever on Heeseung, but no one was worth losing your friendship with Seeun.

“Calm down,” he says, and you wish you could be as steady as his voice. “There’s no reason to be nervous.”

This makes you scoff. “You touching me is not helping my nervousness.” The words are out before you can stop them, and in the darkness of the room, you have to concentrate to make out the tilt of Heeseung’s head. You don’t need to see it to know he’s smiling, the satisfied smirk that has been gracing his features for the past month and a half.

“Yeah? Why is that?”

You take your hand out of Heeseung’s and cross your arms over your chest. “You know why,” you say, not intending your voice to come out as weak as it does.

Heeseung takes another step closer to you, and the only ray of light that comes through the panels of the closet door hits his face, making it visible for you to see. “I do, but I want you to tell me.” Another step, making you back up until you hit the wall behind you.

You call out his name shakily. His lips are right in front of you at this point, and you can’t not look at them.

He places a hand delicately on your waist, as if not wanting to scare you off. “Yeah?” He’s so close now that you can feel his breath fanning on your lips.

“We shouldn’t do this,” you say, and finally, your voice is strong like you want it to - but Heeseung isn’t deterred by it.

“Do what?” he asks, pretending to be stupid. “We haven’t done anything. Not yet.” He adds the last part in a whisper, his eyes drifting down to your lips, and you can feel your resolve crumbling piece by piece, the opposite of completing a puzzle.

“You know what I’m talking about,” you whisper back, voice almost pleading with him. Stop this before it’s too late, you want to tell him, but for some reason, at this point, you’re more scared of nothing happening than something happening.

“I do, but I want you to tell me,” he repeats, and you can’t help but let out a chuckle. Laughing helps relieve the tension, but it’s back as quickly as it left when his hold on your waist gets tighter, bringing you closer to him. Your hands that had fallen to your side come up to grab the sides of his t-shirt, gathering the fabric in your fists. There’s no going back now, you can tell - you wait for Heeseung to make a move, both dreading it and craving the relief that will come with it.

Heeseung’s free hand comes up to your face, and he traces your jawline with a knuckle before taking your chin in two of his fingers, gently raising it so that your face is angled up towards him. His touch makes your skin burn and takes away your ability to breathe properly.

“We shouldn’t do this,” you repeat, voice barely audible, a weak and half-hearted attempt at stopping this now that you still can.

“No, we shouldn’t,” he agrees, and before you can say or do anything else, Heeseung presses his lips to yours, finally, finally.

His lips are just as soft as you’d expected them to be, and the kiss is light, slow, careful. You’re grateful for it, because you’re not a very experienced kisser - if Heeseung had plunged his tongue directly into your mouth, you wouldn’t have known what to do. It’s almost like he knows this, like he’s giving you time to figure it out, to get used to it. His hand snakes its way to the small of your back, pressing you closer to him, while the other cups your cheek with his palm. You, on the other hand, have completely forgotten about your hands, only able to focus on where your lips meet.

It’s easy to fall into Heeseung’s rhythm, to let him take control of the kiss. But maybe it’s too easy, because soon enough, you start to want more - as amazing as this is right now, a slow kiss like this is not enough to have dissolved the tension in your body. You remember your hands and inch them up to his hair, your fingers finding purchase there and slightly pulling as you open your mouth just a bit wider, hoping Heeseung will get the message.

For a second, you think you’ve got it all wrong - Heeseung pulls back an inch, peering down at you. You’re both breathing heavily, and you’re scared you might have gone too far. But then, he murmurs a small fuck under his breath, and just like that, his lips are back on yours, your back is pressed against the wall again, his body encaging your smaller one. The kiss now is nothing like it was seconds ago - it’s turned hungry, hot, messy. You love it.

You had no idea you would want to kiss Heeseung like this, but now that you were doing it, you couldn’t get enough. The intensity with which he held you, the feel of his tongue against yours, the small groans that escaped his lips every time you pulled on his hair, it was all making you more drunk than the alcohol had.

You swear you haven’t even been kissing for two minutes, but then, all of a sudden, the doors are snapped open, and light pours in the closet, and Heeseung’s lips aren’t on yours anymore. You hadn’t heard the timer go off, too engrossed in Heeseung to pay anything else any mind. When you turn your head, Chaeyeong and Jake are staring at you and Heeseung, mouths wide open and eyes darting back and forth between the two of you.

“Oh. My. God,” Chaeyeong says, while Jake starts laughing. A shy smile appears on Heeseung’s lips, even plumper and pinker than usual from your kiss. His hair is a mess, and you’re sure you don’t look too different. He scratches the back of his neck, and you can’t believe this sheepish boy is the same that was kissing you roughly not a minute ago.

“Chaeyeong,” you cry out, voice already pleading as you take a step out of the closet and take both of her hands in yours. “Seeun can’t know about this.” She raises her eyebrows in surprise but nods her head in agreement, and you’ve never been so thankful for your friend as now.

“Would she really mind?” Jake asks, looking at you, then at his friend. You turn to look at Heeseung behind you, who purses his lips.

“I’m not sure, but I have a feeling she would… She’s always told me she didn't want me hanging out with her friends,” Heeseung says, and you and Chaeyeong exchange a look; this was news to both of you.

You have no further time to discuss it, however, because Seeun’s voice calling out your name and Heeseung’s make all four of you widen your eyes. Chaeyeong fixes your clothes and hair as best as she can, then smiles at you reassuringly and nods, prompting you to imitate her. She ushers Heeseung into his bathroom and tells him to “freshen up or whatever,” and you, Jake and Chaeyeong leave the room just as Seeun reaches the door.

“Where’s Heeseung?” she asks, not a trace of suspicion in her voice, peering behind you into her brother’s dark room.

“Just needed the toilet,” Jake answers quickly, and that seems to convince her.

She turns to you, an amused expression on her face. “Hope that wasn’t too awkward.”

You’re so surprised at your friend’s quickness to assume that nothing could happen between you and her brother, as if the idea was truly unfathomable to her, but you figure it’s for the best. You all head back into the party, Heeseung appearing some five minutes later. He scans the room for you, and when you make eye contact from across the crowded living room, he smiles, his shy, genuine smile that you’d fallen in love with all those years ago.

You already miss him, you realize, his lips, his touch, his scent. That’s how you know that you’re in deep, deep shit.

permanent taglist: @k-ingzo @bbujiikseu @sunghoonmybeloved @lalalalawon @sd211 @w3bqrl (ask to be removed/added!)

#enhypen x reader #heeseung x reader #enhypen fluff #heeseung fluff #enhypen scenarios #heeseung scenarios #enhypen fanfiction #heeseung fanfiction #enhypen imagines #heeseung imagines

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whatsnewalycat · 1 year ago

Text

Designated Person | Chapter 8

Pairing: Francisco “Catfish” Morales x F!Reader

Chapter 8: Invitation

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Word Count: 10.3k+

Content / Warnings: Frankie POV, infidelity, past romantic & sexual relationship, angst, food, AA meeting mention, jealousy, alcoholism, lying, conflict avoidance, crying, unprotected piv sex, dirty talk, internal conflict, suggestion of sexual assault, trauma response, verbal argument, we're gonna pretend i know what i'm talking about w the criminal justice system but lets be real i don't

Notes: HEY HI! First of all big thanks to @frannyzooey for beta reading for me, I appreciate you with all my heart. Ok so up until a few days ago, this chapter was going to be this plus the birthday party. But I made an executive decision I think it will be better. So here's this and just know I already have a pretty solid head start on the next chapter lol. ANYWAY let me know what you think, ok love u bye.

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“…Happy birthday, dear Sarah, happy birthday to you!”

Sarah’s pudgy little feet patter in place on the seat of the dining room chair. Frankie rubs her back and says, “Blow out the candles!”

“Wait sweetie, let me just,” Angie scoops Sarah’s long chestnut curls into a bundle, “Ok go ahead.”

She leans over the small, two-tiered cake and blows them out one at a time.

“One… Two… Fwee… Four!”

All three of them cheer as the ribbons of black smoke dissipate into the air. Sarah claps her hands and squeals, looking up at her parents with big, sparkling eyes. Frankie can’t wipe the smile from his face. His heart aches with adoration.

While Ang plucks the spent candles from the cake and cuts it into sixteenths, Frankie takes a seat next to his daughter and asks, “Did you have a good day today?”

“Yes,” Sarah nods, watching her mom slip a chef’s knife under the biggest slice of cake and plop it onto a plate. Angie slides the plate in front of her and gives her a fork.

“What was your favorite part?” he asks.

“Ummm,” Sarah stabs the chocolate sponge cake with her fork and manages to tear off a wobbly chunk, “The penguins.”

“The penguins! I never woulda guessed,” Frankie chuckles, glancing up at Angie when she hands him a plate, “Thanks, hun.”

Sarah carves a line into the air with her nose, a smile digging out dimples in her chubby cheeks.

“Got to stay at the aquarium for a long time today, huh? What kind of penguins did we see?”

“Mmm,” she pauses her attack on the cake to scrunch her face up and think about this, then resumes as she tells him, “King penguin… rockhopper penguin… emperor penguin… little penguin…”

“So many penguins!” he grins.

She giggles, “Yes.”

“And then we got pizza, and opened presents, and now we’re having cake.”

She wriggles around in her seat and giggles some more, “Yes.”

“That’s a good birthday, huh?”

Sarah nods and plunges a finger into the pink strawberry frosting.

“Use your fork, sweetie,” Angie reminds her, taking a seat adjacent to Frankie.

Sarah sticks her finger in her mouth to clean off the frosting, then obediently picks up the fork.

“What should we do after cake?” he asks Sarah before taking a bite.

The little girl hums thoughtfully, tapping one confectionary-coated finger to her chin, “We can… watch Happy Feet?”

Her big, dark eyes sparkle, a mirror of his own, and Frankie grins from her to Angie, “What do you think, Mama, should we watch Happy Feet after cake?”

She checks the smartwatch on her wrist and shrugs, “Sure, we can watch it for a bit before dropping Daddy off.”

A pleased smile spreads across Sarah’s face as she digs her fork into the cake. Frankie turns his attention to his own plate, and a content silence falls over the table as the three of them eat.

The silence is broken when Sarah asks, “Daddy, why don’t you sleep here anymore?”

He stops chewing and looks over at Angie, who just tilts her head at him like she, too, would like to know the answer to this question.

“Well,” he swallows a mouthful of cake and clears his throat, “Daddy, uhh… Daddy did something bad and got in trouble with the police.”

She frowns at her cake, seeming to consider this, then looks up at him, “Like when you and Mommy were fighting?”

The response zaps him. Stuns him. His lips part to respond, but he finds himself speechless.

What the fuck is she talking about?

He combs through his memory and hits a snag.

They just got back from some kind of a trip. Ang was giving him the cold shoulder. He recalls drinking in the garage, fuming by himself, trying to work up the courage to confront her. Yelling. Not just him, though, Angie too. Both of them just fucking screaming at each other. Blue and red lights outside. Doorbell. Cops.

The scraps of his memory bind together and he remembers… it wasn’t a trip they all went on together. It was just Angie and Sarah. Not a fun vacation, either. More of a spur-of-the-moment trip to her parents’ house in Texas, inspired by his recently uncovered infidelity.

Wasn’t Sarah sleeping? How the fuck does she remember that?

Frankie shifts in his seat, glancing at Angie, whose face is inscrutable, then back to Sarah, “No. Well, kind of, I guess. Except worse. They took me to jail.”

Her dark eyes go wide, “But bad guys go to jail.”

“Yeah, sometimes.”

Leaning forward onto the table, he presses his fingertips to his lips and watches her sponge-like brain absorb this information. He’s getting into the weeds. Keep it simple.

“They let me go, but now I have to have a babysitter like you do. That’s why I don’t sleep here,” he reaches over and tucks a loose ringlet behind her ear, “Does that make sense?”

Her brow furrows, “Is Chacha your babysitter?”

Jesus fucking Christ, this kid. Asking all the right questions to make him squirm.

“Yeah,” he nods, “Yeah, she’s pretty much my babysitter now—”

Angie scoffs.

He shoots her a sharp glance, “Until we know how much trouble I’m in, at least.”

“I saw Chacha at the park,” Sarah informs him, as if he wasn’t there.

The nickname makes him chuckle. She hasn’t used it in forever, now twice in one night?

When he thinks about how your face will light up when he shares this news with you, warmth sparks in his guts.

“You did see Chacha at the park,” he gives Sarah’s arm a playful pinch, “She told me she was happy to see you, and that she misses you.”

At this, Sarah giggles, dimples and all.

And, at this, Angie shoves her chair out behind her and stomps out of the kitchen. Like a fucking child.

I don’t want to do this anymore.

The thought strikes him square between the eyes. Brief, but distinct. He sweeps it under the rug of his mind to deal with later.

“Mommy don’t like her,” Sarah tells him in a loud whisper when the bedroom door slams closed.

He has to stifle laughter.

“Don’t worry about that, princesa,” he waves off the petulant outburst, leaning in to ask, “Would you like it if Chacha came to your birthday party?”

Sarah studies him for a moment. When the question registers, she smiles wide and nods, “Yes.”

“I’ll talk to Mommy about it later, ok?”

“Ok.”

“Whaddaya think, should we finish our cake in the living room? Put on Happy Feet?”

She giggles, hopping off the chair to spin in circles and clap her hands.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he snorts.

Once the birthday girl is sufficiently distracted, Frankie follows his wife’s warpath to their bedroom. He pauses at the closed door, hand hovering over the shiny knob, grimacing at what will follow.

Did Sarah hear their whole argument that night?

What else does she remember?

Does she remember the days he’d call off work to take the two of you to the butterfly house? Or how he would sneak up behind you when you were cooking and kiss your neck? Does she remember you scrambling out of the house, half-naked, gasping for air, while Frankie held Angie back?

Probably not.

Hopefully not.

He takes a deep breath and twists the knob, pushing the door open.

Inside, Angie is sitting at the foot of the bed, texting furiously. Frankie enters the room, closing the door behind him. He approaches cautiously and sits down beside her. Brings his hand to the small of her back.

She doesn’t acknowledge his presence.

“Amor,” he murmurs, sliding his palm up and down her rigid spine, “You can’t get pissed at me every time she comes up in conversation. It’s not—”

He cuts himself off with a thick gulp.

This catches her attention. She tosses her phone aside and blinks, “It’s not what? Not fair? Is that what you were gonna say?”

“Fuck, I don’t know, Ang,” he shakes his head, leg bouncing, “It puts me in a weird spot. Whether you like it or not, she’s a part of my life—”

“Oh, for fucks sake—”

“And—and Sarah, she picks up on that, you know? That you don’t like her—”

“I don’t give a shit if she knows I hate that bitch, Francisco,” Angie spits, “Why shouldn’t I, huh? Give me one good reason I shouldn’t.”

Answers deadlock his throat.

Because I care about her, and Sarah cares about her, and she cares about us. Because she has helped me more than any other human has, more times than I deserve. Because she saved my life, and you should be fucking grateful.

The thought makes him shiver as it replays.

You should be fucking grateful.

He tries to bypass the question, clearing his throat before taking Angie’s soft hand and meeting her eyes, “I know this arrangement has been hard for you.”

Her features sharpen. She pulls away and crosses her arms in front of her chest. Unease rings out his stomach.

But a sense of familiarity dawns on him, too.

It reminds him of conversations he’s had with you the past two months. Those “State of the Union” discussions that loom, dark and terrifying, but end up making him feel ten pounds lighter when they’re all said and done with.

And, fuck, he wants this to feel better. Wants to be in the same room as his wife and not feel like he’s walking on the razor’s edge.

“Hey,” he takes back her hand, “Stick with me, ok? We can talk about this.”

Angie glares at him, but waits.

“We are friends. That is it. Just like Santi and Benny and Will—”

“Remind me, did you fuck any of them?”

I don’t want to do this anymore.

He stares back into her piercing gaze, with pleading eyes, “Ang.”

Her jaw clenches and she shakes her head, but doesn’t storm off or start screaming at him, so he continues.

“I know I fucked up by having sex with her. It was—It was a mistake.”

Angie’s features soften. Relief floods his veins, warm and buzzing and sedative. Like the first drink at the end of a stressful day.

And, much like when he would finish his first drink, he aches for more.

“It was impulsive. I was so fucking numb, I needed to feel something, and she was around. I’m not, you know, into her, or attracted to her—”

Angie scoffs.

“I know it sounds like bullshit. I know,” he squeezes her hand, “But if I could go back in time and do anything over, it would be that day.”

She studies him, eyes narrowed in scrutiny.

I don’t want to do this anymore.

“It didn’t mean anything, amor. I love you. I mean, fuck, I’m here, aren’t I? I’m trying.”

Her shoulders slump. She swallows hard and looks down at the floor. Her nails twitch against his palm and the rush it gives him flips his stomach upside down.

“I’m sorry, Ang.”

“You’re sorry you got caught.”

“I’m sorry I betrayed you. I’m sorry I broke your trust. I’m sorry I was so fucked in the head I found comfort in someone else. I took you for granted, and I’m so sorry.”

Angie lets out a little sob. He should feel remorse. At the very least, he should feel something other than sick satisfaction at her finally breaking. Just a little bit more. Almost there.

“But that day is behind us now, and what I have with her is entirely platonic. She has Rory, and I have you, and we are friends. She’s helping me out right now by giving me a place to live, and driving me places while my license is suspended, and just being… a really, really good friend to me. I know that’s hard for you, and I’m sorry that it makes you uncomfortable, but I promise that’s all it is.”

“I hate it.”

“I know,” he nods, pulling her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles, “I know, baby. I just need you to trust that I’m doing this for you and Sarah. The two of you are everything to me. I love you.”

Angie sniffles and straightens her spine, then looks over at Frankie, “Can you promise me something?”

Her warm gaze is glossy and full of emotion. He leans into it, answering, “Anything.”

“When the trial is over, and you leave her house—I don’t want you to talk to her ever again.”

It sobers him instantly.

He pulls back, shaking his head, “Ang, I can’t—”

A fire comes to life in her eyes.

“If you give a single fuck about our family, you can and you will. You told me your friendship with her is a means to an end. Is that still true, or no?”

Slowly, he nods, but it feels wrong. The dull blade of guilt rips his belly open.

This isn’t what was supposed to happen.

“Then you cut ties with her when this is done. Do that for me and I will put my feelings about her aside.”

That’s what Angie tells him, but what he understands is this is a reprieve. A stopgap. It buys him some time to figure out what the fuck he’s going to do because—

I don’t want to do this anymore.

He swallows the thought down with a thick gulp and says, “Alright.”

Angie blesses him with a peacemaking smile.

Despite his churning stomach, he returns the smile and squeezes her hand, “Can… Can you do me a favor, though?”

“What?”

“Let me invite her and Rory to Sarah’s party.”

She stares at him like she doesn’t understand, then scoffs, “No.”

“Why not?”

Jumping to her feet, she shouts, “Because she fucked you in our bed, Frankie, do I really have to explain that?”

He stands too, “You just said you’re putting those feelings aside, and she’ll be with her boyfriend, I don’t understand what the big deal—”

“Why does she even want to go?” Angie crosses her arms and scowls.

“She misses Sarah. And Sarah obviously misses her, too. I mean, you heard her at the table earlier.” Frankie approaches her, placing his hands on her waist, searching her face, “I’m with you, amor. I promise. This would just mean a lot to both of them. Especially if they won’t be able to see each other again.”

She softens a little. Her jaw ticks to the side, then she sighs, “Fine.”

He represses the smile from his lips and murmurs, “Thank you,” before pressing a kiss into her forehead.

She hooks her hands behind his neck and drops her eyes to his mouth. His pulse jumps as she captures his lips in hers, alive and wanting. The sugary sweetness of strawberry frosting makes his taste buds perk up and want more.

Her long, red nails work into the curls at the nape of his neck, scratching that deep, aching itch for her favor. That’s the thing about Angie. She gives her affection sparingly, and when he earns it, it feels so fucking good.

He can’t remember the last time she touched him like this, with enthusiasm and hunger.

It was before he quit drinking. Before the failed attempts at marriage counseling. Before Angie came home from work early and caught her husband fucking the nanny.

It’s strange how something as trivial as early dismissal can alter the trajectory of so many lives. His own path seems to be an infinite freefall, always bracing for impact but never meeting the ground.

Drinking more. Fighting more. Pushing you away again and again and again while trying to transplant these feelings into the right relationship.

I don’t want to do this anymore.

Especially now, when Angie kisses him, and all he can think about is your lips, your tongue, soft and slick and writhing on his. The heel of your hand kneading against his stiffening cock.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he groans, eyelids fluttering open to meet her gaze, not yours.

He wishes it was you.

But he closes his eyes and lets her guide him back to their bed, settling for the next best thing.

Frankie hears the buzz of an incoming text message from his pants pocket. He kisses Angie’s sweaty forehead and departs from her body, snatching the discarded jeans off the floor.

> MARIPOSA: > Rory is over here fyi, let me know when you’re on your way

A nagging, confusing spring of jealousy bubbles up in his chest. Something else, too. Like guilt, but deeper. An infection festering away inside him.

“I should get going before the birthday girl falls asleep. I don’t wanna have to wake her.”

“Can’t you stay?” Angie asks, stroking his arm, “I mean, really, Francisco. Your PO won’t ship you off to jail for spending the night with your wife, will he?”

Her gentle touch is a branding iron on his skin. Searing. Territorial. He has to stop himself from lurching away.

He slides his pants back on and shrugs, “I don’t really wanna find out.”

“So fucked up.”

“I know, baby,” Frankie fishes his shirt off the foot of the bed, tugging it over his head, “I have to, I’m sorry.”

She releases a sigh and pulls her shirt back on, “Oh, don’t forget, on Thursday my parents will be here.”

Nodding, he stretches his arms above his head. How could he forget?

“Try to get along with my dad.”

He rolls his eyes before turning to face her, “Tell him the same, yeah?”

She snorts and fastens her jean shorts, raising an eyebrow, “I will, but you know how he is. Don’t take his bait.”

Frankie grunts in response while buckling his belt. Fully dressed, they meet at the door. Angie looks him over, giving him a rare warm smile before telling him, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

She kisses him, and he places that rotten feeling: shame.

Frankie walks up the cement path, craning his head up towards the cloudless sapphire evening sky, admiring the way it contrasts the tangerine siding of your post stamp of a house. The sun hangs just at the horizon, and its absence lends relief from the stagnant July heat.

It’s a nice night, but he’s still a little surprised to find you and Rory are sitting out on the front porch swing, his arm draped around your shoulder with you all tucked into his side. Sure, it may be better than coming home to your closed bedroom door, with just the indistinguishable murmur of your voices to drive him crazy, but still… not ideal.

The sight causes something deep within Frankie’s chest to clench and pulse, growling, “MINE.”

Fuck, he couldn’t be more a hypocrite.

“Whatta we have here, a couple of swingers?” he jokes while climbing the front steps.

It’s a bad joke, and in poor taste given the circumstances, but the sneer on Rory’s lips gives him a rush of satisfaction.

Conversely, you light up when you see him. Your smile is fucking luminous. A goddamn heat lamp. He feels himself melting into the floorboards.

Jesus fucking Christ.

You sit up and put a little space between Rory’s body and yours, “Hey! How’d it go?”

“Good,” he crosses his arms, leaning against the banister with a shrug, “Went to see the penguins, had pizza, presents, cake, all that.”

“Did she like her gift?”

“She loved it. She said she’s going to sleep with it tonight—Oh, that reminds me—Ang gave the green light for you two to come to her party on Saturday if you still want to.”

“Holy shit, really?” you ask, eyes widening, then chuckle and shake your head, “Sorry, I’m just surprised. She really said that’s ok?”

“Yeah,” he smiles despite the guilt condensing in his stomach, and asks Rory, “Know if you can make it?”

Rory’s head jerks back a little, and he frowns, “Well, this is the first time I’m hearing about it. But, yeah. I have nothing else going on,” he looks at you, “If that’s ok.”

“Yeah, of course.”

Your words come out airy and unconvincing. Rory studies your face.

Frankie calls your attention back to him, “Guess what she called you earlier.”

You avert your gaze from Rory’s, tucking your hair behind your ear before you chuckle, “Oh god, did she learn it from her mother?”

He laughs at this, shaking his head, “No, she called you Chacha.”

“Shut the fuck up, did she really?” you gasp.

Frankie nods, “Hand to god.”

You sit with this for a few gleeful seconds before your smile falters, and you say, “I miss her.”

“She misses you, too,” he tells you, “She’ll be happy to see you this weekend.”

You nod, then look to Rory, whose mouth is flattened into an unamused line. He stares at you a beat too long for comfort. The air around the porch swing seems tense.

Frankie glances between you and Rory, then clears his throat and says, “Anyway, I’ll get out of your hair.”

You mumble a brief, distracted, “Oh, ok,” before he walks into the house.

As he closes the door and leans back against it to untie his work boots, he hears you ask, “What?”

Both the sharpness in your voice and its volume make Frankie halt. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the curtains rustle from a light breeze. Quietly, he pulls his boots off and sets them on the shoe tray. Morbid curiosity keeps him rooted in place, barely breathing as he listens in on your conversation.

“You didn’t tell me we were invited to his kid’s birthday party.”

“He said he would ask, but I wasn’t going to invite you until I knew for sure whether or not we could go.”

More silence, then your voice again, “Oh my god, what is your problem?”

“I don’t like how you are with him.”

“How I ‘am’ with him? What the hell does that mean?”

“Oh, don’t play dumb. You know what I mean.”

“I really don’t, could you explain it to me?”

Rory pauses for a beat, then says, “You’re flirting, both of you, right in front of me. I don’t like it. And—and I want it to stop.”

“What am I doing that you think is flirting?”

“It’s not just you—”

“What he does is irrelevant, he is his own person—”

“It’s fucking disrespectful.”

The silence that follows writhes under his skin.

This is private. He shouldn’t be eavesdropping. But he can’t bring himself to move. Some fucked up part of him wants to hear what you say to Rory about him. How do you defend yourself? Do you throw him under the bus, too?

Are you just as bad as me?

Your voice comes through the window again, metered and firm, but shaky.

“What am I doing that you consider flirting?”

Rory scoffs, then says, “It’s the way you look at him and talk to him. Always smiling at him, and joking with him, and asking him how his day went—”

“Wow, how dare I ask my roommate—my friend—how his day was.”

“That’s not what I mean. It’s—it’s—I know it when I see it, ok? There’s obviously something going on between you two.”

“Obviously,” you deadpan, “Because I smile and joke with him, and ask him how he’s doing, we are so obviously fucking. You’re totally right, Rory. You caught me.”

“He’s a fucking loser, you know that, right?”

Another long pause.

“I want you to leave.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously, get the fuck off my porch.”

“I don’t have my—”

“I’ll get your shit.”

Frankie hears the porch swing creak and his heart jumps. He launches himself forward and manages to collapse on the couch as you swing the door open.

You freeze when you see him. Your eyes flick from him, to the open window, then back to him before you scoff and stomp off to your bedroom.

Rory steps into the doorway, standing at attention with his hands shoved in his pockets. Frankie stares at him. Something protective and instinctual, almost paternal, wells up inside him and fine tunes his nerve endings.

From the back hallway, you holler, “What the fuck are you doing? I told you to get the fuck off my porch.”

Frankie can’t stop himself from laughing.

Rory glares at him, “Fuck you.”

You steamroll into the room wielding a backpack and shove it into Rory’s chest, “LEAVE.”

“You’re fucking crazy.”

“I sure am. Get the fuck off my property.”

Rory holds your gaze for an intense moment before turning to go. You slam the door behind him and deadbolt it, then go to the front windows and do the same with them.

“I’m—”

You hold up a hand to Frankie and exit the room. A few seconds later he hears your bedroom door click shut.

After scrubbing his skin raw in the shower and changing into pajamas more comfortable than he deserves, Frankie tries to go to sleep early, but finds himself restless.

He stares at the ceiling, at his phone, at the walls. When he hears running water in the bathroom, he wonders if you’re getting ready to go to bed. Wonders if you’re ok, and if you would accept his company.

He thinks about his wife. Her nails digging into his shoulder blades, her hot breath on his cheek. The electric squeeze of her cunt as he came inside her.

What would you do if you knew?

Would it tear you apart, or could you care less?

Fuck, why does he feel so guilty?

For the sex just as much as the tentative agreement he made.

You know he intends to stay with her, and there’s nothing going on between the two of you. Not really. Nothing certain, at least. Right?

Sure, there was the slip up the week after he moved in. And the panties. And, yeah, some flirting. Not intentional when Rory is around, despite what he may think. And maybe you got off next to each other once. Then there’s the cuddling, and the hand holding, and this deep, aching, maddening desire to spend every ounce of his free time with you. To know all of your favorite things, and your life story, and your ticks. To make you feel happy and appreciated and safe and loved.

And loved.

I don’t want to do this anymore.

His muscles and tendons vibrate with anxious energy.

It brings him to his feet and compels him to wander through the dark, silent house, into the living room, confirming its vacancy. He starts off towards your bedroom. The light from your open door slices through the dark back hallway like a beacon. Floorboards creak under his step as he makes his way towards it, and when he arrives, he leans against the door frame.

You’re stretched out horizontal across your bed, belly-side down, facing away from him, hovering over a thick book. He studies the curvature of your body, lingering on the generously exposed swathes of soft skin that lead to the hem of your shorts.

“Are you just gonna hang out in the doorway like a weirdo?” you glance over your shoulder, then back at your book.

“Sorry, I, um... I wasn’t sure if I was interrupting.”

“You’re not,” you sit up and crawl to the head of your bed, tapping the empty pillow beside you, his pillow, his spot. “Come on in.”

While he walks over to the furthest side, you plump the pillows on your side of the bed and stuff them behind your back, then resume reading.

“What’s that?” he asks as he stretches out across your bedspread.

You lift the cover to show him and sigh, “Still chipping away at Doctor Sleep.”

“It any good?”

“Terrible, that’s why I’m reading it.”

Frankie snorts and shakes his head while digging his phone from his pajama pants, “Are you doing ok?”

“Wow, you’re full of great questions tonight, huh?”

“Maybe you’re just full of sass tonight, ever think of that?”

“Doesn’t sound like me.”

He raises his eyebrows and murmurs, “No comment.”

“That’s, like, actually a comment though, in itself—”

“Weren’t you reading?”

“Weren’t you—I don’t know, reading the news or whatever dads do on their phone?”

“Looking for car parts,” he corrects.

“Same thing.”

Frankie drops his phone on his chest and looks at you, “Not even close.”

You peek around the corner of your book, “It’s like, equal levels of dad-ness, though, so basically, yeah.”

“Levels of dad-ness,” he chuckles under his breath, shaking his head, “You’d know something about that, huh?”

“About what, how daddy you are?” you laugh.

He shrugs, meeting your eyes. You hold his gaze, mouth cracked open in a mischievous smile, then shake your head and look back at your book, “No comment.”

Grinning like idiots, you both go back to reading and browsing, respectively, although Frankie can’t concentrate for shit with you next to him. His skin aches with the heat of your body so close.

He listens to every breath you take, every wet swallow, every microscopic wiggle bringing you closer. Minutes go by, but he doesn’t hear your page turn once.

Eventually, you let out a powerful yawn, and it spreads to him.

You grab the bookmark off your nightstand and tuck it between the open pages before closing it, “I should go to bed soon—” another yawn interrupts you, “It’s getting late.”

“Yeah,” he sits up, stretching his arms over his head, then looks back at you, “I’ll see you in the morning?”

Your features melt and soften, lips parting as you meet his eyes. This invisible force keeps him anchored there, tugging at his chest, urging him to move closer to you. He glances at your mouth, at the pink flash of your tongue wetting your lips.

He doesn’t want to go.

He wants to stay and kiss you breathless, to fall asleep with the warmth of your body lining his, to wake up in your bed and never fucking leave.

He wants to take back everything he said to his wife earlier today, to defend your honor like he should have, like you would do for him, like you did for him.

Fuck, he doesn’t deserve you. The hole he dug for himself is a just punishment. He needs to let you go and allow you to find peace with someone else who won’t hurt you like he has. Like he will inevitably do again.

You reach out and place your hand on his arm, thumb grazing his tingling, heated skin, “Do you want to stay?”

The contact floods him with feel-good chemicals that his hungry synapses gobble up.

“I, umm—”

His throat swallows around his thudding pulse. It fucking hurts how bad he wants you right now. He finds himself leaning back on his elbow, gravitating closer to you, resting his hand in the dip of your waist as you roll on your side to face him.

“Is that a good idea?” he asks.

“Probably not,” you search his face, your gaze catching on his mouth.

His heart skitters and he doesn’t really notice that his fingertips dig into your side until your whole body shivers in reaction. Doesn’t really notice he’s been inching closer to you until your breath grazes his lips.

The sound of your ringtone cuts through the thick air between your bodies.

You sit up and shake your head, trance broken, then reach for the source of the noise with shaky hands, “It’s Rachel. She’s full bridezilla mode, this might take a while.”

“Ok,” he nods, “I’ll go.”

You look over at him, apologies written all over your face. An impulse yanks hard on his body and urges him forward. Before he can talk himself out of it, he slips a hand behind your head and pulls you into a kiss.

Your lips are soft and warm, fucking perfect, just how he remembers. They barely have time to respond before he draws back and tells you, “Goodnight.”

You watch him crawl out of your bed, stunned silent for a moment, then answer the phone, “Hey, Rach—what’s wrong?”

Frankie glances up at you as he closes the door behind him, and sees you tracing the dumbfounded smile on your lips.

When he turns out the lights in his room and crawls under the covers, even though he knows damn well he won’t find sleep for hours, he does the same.

Frankie is at work, elbows deep in the engine compartment of a Bell 407, when the call from his attorney comes.

“Your case is on the docket,” the voicemail tells him when he returns to his small, shared office space, “Trial is scheduled for Wednesday, September 6th. We might still be able to find a favorable plea deal, so I’ll get working on that, but either way, I’d like to set up a call with you early next week to discuss your options moving forward. Give me a call when you get this, thanks.”

He takes a seat at his desk and stares at his phone for a minute, then replays the message to make sure he heard correctly. He did.

The earth tilts.

Everything seems to crumble as reality dawns on him. All he can see are cold steel prison cell bars and stiff orange jumpsuits. Angie’s words from the other night echo in his head:

“When the trial is over, when you leave her house—I don’t want you to talk to her ever again.”

A vast, unshakable hollowness overtakes him.

Or… or maybe it’s the opposite.

Maybe he’s so heavy and full he’s just sinking deeper and deeper into the dark, endless pit of his mistakes, down, down, down…

He unlocks his phone to return his lawyer’s call, but pauses when he tastes the salt of his own tears. Confused, he wipes his eyes and stares down at his damp hand.

Frankie just sits there for a moment, watching tears splatter onto his palms, stunned. When did he start crying? Why did he start crying?

He knew it was just a matter of time before the consequences of his actions became real. Now it’s happening and he’s blubbering like a baby.

I need to get my shit together.

He stands and shoves his phone in his pocket, shaking out his hands.

A string tugs at his chest, leading him to Michael’s desk. He watches the closed door as he carefully pulls open a drawer. Inside, he finds a half-empty bottle of whiskey. The string pulls taut, urging him to do it.

He thinks about Angie. How her sour attitude always poisons his mind. How this thing between them feels so distant, so vacuous, he doesn’t know how he will ever restore it.

He thinks about Sarah. How much he’s failed her as a father. He thinks about his own father and wonders if it’s pointless for him to keep resisting fate. Was it always going to be like this for him? Does it matter if he tries to be better, or is this all futile?

He thinks about you. His chest aches and he feels tears burn behind his eyes again. He wishes you were here. You’d know what to say or do to make him feel better.

Frankie takes the cell phone from his pocket and dials your number. He glances up at the door again as the line rings.

“Hey,” you answer, sounding slightly confused, “What’s up?”

Kids squeal in the background as he tries to find his voice. Words catch in his throat, the only thing that comes out is a rasp. A sob. He’s fully crying now. Staring at the whiskey.

“Frankie, what’s wrong? Are you ok?”

Your concern is audible. It reaches through the phone and coaxes him to speak.

“I, um,” he swallows hard and shakes his head, “I don’t know. I’m kind of freaking out right now.”

“Why, what’s going on?”

“I just got my court date,” he sniffles, clears his throat, then says, “I feel… hopeless.”

“Where are you?”

On your end of the world, Frankie hears a door click shut and the chaotic background noise becomes muted.

“In my office.”

“What’re you doing?”

He pauses, so you repeat the question.

“I’m staring at a bottle of whiskey,” he admits quietly. Just a whisper.

“Ok,” you breathe, and he can hear your mind start to whiz into action, “Ok. Did you drink any of it?”

“Not yet.”

“Thank fuck,” a sigh of relief crackles in his ear, “Ok, that’s good. Good job. Can I come get you? I—I mean, do you want me to come get you now? Because I can—”

“No, sweetheart,” his eyes flick to the ceiling, trance broken, and he pushes the drawer closed, “You don’t have to do that.”

“But I will—”

He turns towards his desk, “No, really, it’s ok—“

“Oh my fucking god,” you huff, “Look, I am responsible for you. Not only that, but I—I care about you, Frankie. I need to know that you’re safe. And dry.”

Warmth sprouts up beneath his sternum and branches out under his rib cage.

“And—and it’s ok if the answer is no, because I can just come get you and bring you h-home,” you stumble a little on the last word, but you recover quickly, “Are you safe?”

“Yeah. I just needed to, um,” he turns and leans back against the desk, pressing his fingertips to his mouth, then drops them and says, “Thanks for picking up.”

“You promise you’re not falling off the wagon?”

“I promise.”

“Good,” you say, your sweet, soft voice tinged with a smile, “If you’re lying to me, though, I’m gonna break your thumbs.”

“Break my thumbs?” he chuckles.

“Yeah, you know how many bottles you can lift with broken thumbs? None.”

He snorts and shakes his head, “Alright, alright. Don’t get out your vice grips just yet, buster.”

You laugh and Frankie feels his heart swell with adoration. There’s a bit of an awkward pause when your laughter fades out, then you murmur, “Thank you for calling me. Instead of… you know.”

“Yeah.”

“Still need me to pick you up from your meeting later?”

“If that still works for you.”

“Of course it does,” you coo, and he can hear the smile in your voice again when you say, “So, about my movie pick for tonight...”

He grins, “Uh-huh. You got a good one?”

“Well, the thing is, I was going to pick The Shawshank Redemption, but that seems a bit too topical now—”

Laughter bubbles up Frankie’s throat, and he shakes his head, “Hey, maybe it’ll give me some pointers for tunneling my way out of a prison.”

“That is so true. In that case, maybe I’ll keep it. We’ll see,” you chuckle, “Ok, well… I’ll see you tonight, then?”

“I’ll be there.”

When Frankie sees your car pull up to the strip mall coffee shop that holds his Friday night meeting, a few thoughts populate his head almost instantaneously.

At the very forefront is the reminder that he kissed you.

It was a peck, really, just a quick kiss goodnight. But for three days, the first thought on his mind when he sees you or thinks about you or breathes or does anything really is that he fucking kissed you.

After being notified of his court date, Frankie should only be thinking up ways to see minimal jail time. But every time he finds a still moment, before anything else, he pictures you sitting on your bed, rubbing your lips and smiling as he leaves your room.

The thought that follows this one, on par for the past three days, is that he fucked Angie.

Has anyone ever felt this fucking terrible about having sex with his wife?

Then, on top of that, he said shitty things about you and let Angie do the same. He knows he didn’t just betray you, but he betrayed himself, too. It wasn’t just wrong, it was disingenuous. That knowledge fills him with a heaviness so profound, at times he thinks it might break him.

Which brings up the last thought that shotguns through his head following the kiss, then Angie:

I don’t want to do this anymore.

What “this” is, he hasn’t quite figured out yet. His marriage? His obsession with you? Sobriety? Life itself?

Fuck, all of the above?

All he knows is he means it, and that “this” is not sustainable.

He built a timebomb with no countdown. If he concentrates hard enough he can hear it ticking in his bones, whispering in his ear:

I don’t want to do this anymore.

Frankie opens the passenger door to your car and sits down, closing it behind him, “Hey.”

“Hey,” you throw the car into reverse, craning your neck around to check for oncoming traffic, “How was your meeting?”

“It was… good, actually,” he stretches out in the seat and shrugs, “Yeah. I, uhh, I think I needed that today.”

“Yeah?” you glance over at him, “So your opinion that it’s, and I quote, ‘total bullshit’ has shifted a bit?”

He chuckles, “I guess so.”

“Wow, look at you. A changed man,” you smirk, “You’re almost two months sober, you know that?”

“Feels like centuries,” he taps his lips, then tells you, “But also days, sometimes. I don’t know. It’s weird.”

“Is it getting easier?”

Not at all.

The thought surfaces from the hungry part of his brain. The beast that just wants and wants and wants, regardless of the cost. But that’s not necessarily accurate, even though it’s the loudest part of him.

“Sometimes,” he admits, “Sometimes I can’t imagine being that person again. And—and sometimes all I want to do is drink until I don’t care about anything anymore.”

“But the meetings help?”

“Yeah, they do.”

“What step are you on?”

“Well… I haven’t actually started the steps. So, zero.” Before you can ask, he adds, “I don’t know why. I should. I mean, I’ve been thinking about it.”

You nod in acknowledgement, then a few seconds pass before you tell him, “Last time I talked to Ralph, he suggested I check out an Al-Anon meeting.”

“Oh yeah?”

“I’ve been thinking about doing it,” you glance between him and the road, “Would that be weird?”

“I don’t think it would be weird at all,” he answers, tapping his fingers against his knee.

“Really?”

“It might be helpful, talking to other people in similar… situations, I guess.”

“Ok. Well, yeah, maybe I’ll check it out.”

“You should,” he gives your arm a playful pinch.

A smirk tugs at the corner of your mouth. Your hand moves towards his, then the fingers curl back and you mutter, “Sorry,” before returning it to the steering wheel.

Frankie studies your face, watching your jaw gnash around like you’re chewing on your goddamn tongue again. He lays out his hand, palm facing up on the center console.

You look at it, then release your white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel to place your hand in his.

Once you do, he interlaces your fingers and pulls your clasped hands to rest on his leg. His thumb absentmindedly works against your skin as he looks out the window at storefronts and restaurants rolling past. And, for the first time all day, he feels sated and calm, like he knows everything will turn out ok.

As the end credits to Moulin Rouge! run, Frankie looks down at you sleeping peacefully with your head on his lap. He rubs your arm, murmuring, “Sweetheart.”

You wake with a start, jolting upright, and clamber to the other end of the couch. Your wide, frightened eyes glow with the ambient light of the TV. Every muscle in your body is rigid and guarded. You look like a cornered animal.

“Hey,” he holds up a hand, “It’s just me.”

It takes a moment for you to recognize him and your surroundings, but when you do, you slacken, burying your face in your hands, and release a sob.

He stares at you, afraid to move, not wanting to rattle you further. A minute goes by like this, while you cry and he sits there frozen and uncertain.

“Sorry,” you sit up and wipe your eyes, shaking your head, “That was fucking weird I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t apologize. It’s ok.”

“Ok,” you stand on shaky legs, “Well, goodnight.”

When you walk past him, he calls out, “Hey, wait,” and grabs your hand, “Are you ok?”

You don’t say anything, but you don’t pull away, either. For a moment he doesn’t even think you’re breathing. When your breath returns, it’s a sob that racks your body. You shake your head and choke out, “No.”

“Do you want me to stay with you?”

You nod, so he stands and follows you to your room. The lights stay off as he crawls into bed beside you, ushering you into his arms. You feel so warm there, fit so perfectly, even with your stuffed panda bear cuddled into your chest.

When he thinks about your nightmares, your panic attacks, the times like this when you seem stuck somewhere far away, he desperately wants to know who did this to you.

He can connect the dots. He doesn’t need you to tell him the gory details. If he could put a name and a face to the scars in your psyche, though…

He cuts his thoughts short, not wanting to see all the methods of vengeance his volatile brain can come up with. Not with you right here, safe in his embrace, drifting to sleep.

The long, slow breaths expanding and contracting your rib cage lull him into a hypnotic state, and sleep comes to him easily, the way it only does when he’s with you.

Frankie wakes in your bed at dawn.

Eyes still closed, he frowns when a breeze slices through the thick, stagnant air and cools his skin.

He mutters to himself, “You stole the goddamn blanket again, didn’t you?”

One eye peaks open and confirms his suspicion. At some point overnight, you managed to twist yourself up into a cocoon on the opposite side of the bed.

“Hmm?”

The noise is muffled and groggy. He chuckles and shakes his head, “Nothing. Go back to bed.”

The heap jiggles a little. Your hand pokes out from underneath it and grabs around for him. He scoots closer, peeling back a poofy duvet layer to reveal your serene, still mostly sleeping face. You wince at the dull light of day, but a smile ticks across your lips when you make contact with him, smoothing your palm against the heat of his chest before worming your way into his arms. He pulls the blanket with you, draping it over himself, even though the air is hot and soupy, just to feel your warmth because it’s yours.

You mumble something into his shirt. The words all stick together when they dribble from your comatose lips and he can’t make out a single one.

He smirks, “What’s that?”

This time, you tilt your head to the ceiling, notching the crown of your head between his collar and jaw, smacking your mouth a few times before repeating yourself.

This time, he understands.

“IIiii love you.”

His heart skitters electric through his fingertips.

He tries to keep his countenance calm when he peaks down at you. Your eyes are closed, breath passing through your slack lips in long, halting strokes. One foot in the door of consciousness, if that.

Fuck it.

“I love you, too.”

Every synapse in his brain shoots off like the grand finale of a fireworks display when he says it. A sweet, sleepy hum sounds from your throat as you feel around blindly for him, patting up his arm like you’re searching for a light switch in the dark.

When you reach his face, your wobbly fingertips twitch a little. They graze his stubbled cheek, then follow the curve of his smile. Your eyelids flutter open, and it takes a moment for your eyes to focus, but when they do, you don’t go to move or push him away like he was half-expecting.

No, instead, your gaze slides to where you trace his lips, your own parting with a sharp breath.

If he says anything, he’ll fuck this up, he’s sure of it. And he wants to squeeze every last drop from this moment. So he just watches you and tries to subdue the wildfire scorching his bones to dust.

“I had a dream about you,” you tell him in a hoarse whisper, as if someone might overhear.

His pulse surges. He feels his limbs wiggle a little closer to you as he asks, “A good dream?”

You nod.

“What happened?”

The answer tucks into the corners of your mouth and spreads across your face in a big party banner smile, “I dreamed that you, um…”

You lick your lips and shrug, raking your nails along his jaw, reeling him in closer. He doesn’t want to be the fool that makes the first move. Not unless you want him to be.

“That I what?”

The question leaves his throat in a rumble. Permission, he needs your permission, baby, please—

Then you kiss him. Delicate and hesitant, like a question: “Do you want this?”

“I do,” every cell in his body cries, aching with restrained force when his lips move in response, pressing hard against yours like a declaration, “I don’t just want this, I need this. I need you.”

A moan bows your vocal cords, vibrating onto his tongue as you yank on his shirt and roll onto your back, pulling him on top of you. It’s like second nature, how his hips arch into yours, the dull edge of your pubic bone grinding against his already stiff, throbbing length.

He keeps expecting you to come to your senses and shove him away, but you don’t. You keep kissing him, pulling him closer, tongue rolling soft and wet against his—morning breath be damned, thank fucking god. If you tried to shoo him now, he might die, too much inertia from this pulsing, maddening energy rippling beneath his skin, it would tear him to shreds.

Your lips part from his and you peer up at him through your lashes, studying his face as you tug at his cock over his shorts. His whole body shudders, a groan spilling from his chest, and you smirk, “Take them off.”

“Are you sure?”

You glance at his lips, then meet his eyes, “No, but do it anyway.”

Frankie sits up and strips off his clothes, watching you do the same. You pull him with you as you lay back on your elbows, lips meeting again and again in frantic, desperate kisses. His cock nudges against your slick entrance, and you whine, “Please—”

He pushes forward, swallowed up by your tight, wet heat, catching the whine of “Fuck yes,” that escapes your mouth. A thick wave of pleasure rushes up his spine, and your hips work against his, taking him faster, the shared movements quickly escalating.

“So fucking good,” he pants, nipping at the column of your throat as your head falls loosely back, “Sweet girl, you take me so well, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you gasp, nodding up at the ceiling, mouth hanging open slack, eyes pinched shut, “Oh my god, yes, Frankie—”

“That’s it, baby, say my name,” he growls, this insane gush of hot, writhing ecstasy flooding his body, “Look at me.”

Your head snaps up and you meet his eyes. He slips a hand behind your head and cradles your skull, holding you here, fucking you in deep, long strokes, asking you, “Whose pussy is this?”

“It’s yours, Frankie,” you gasp, nodding, “It’s yours, it’s always yours, fuck—”

“Fuck yes it is,” his voice sounds far away, babbling all on its own as he grapples with the fire growing inside him, “Does your little boyfriend fuck you like this?”

You let out a pathetic whimper and shake your head, “No.”

“Do you think about me when you fuck him?”

A nod, continuing frantically when he asks, “Think about how you wish it was me to make yourself come?”

“Fuck, holy shit, Frankie—oh my fucking god—”

You’re so fucking close. His muscles start to clench at the overwhelming pleasure.

“That’s it baby, come on, let it go, it’s ok, be a good girl let me feel you come on this dick—”

Your moans grow louder, matching his fervid thrusts, and he feels you suck him in, the spasming squeeze of your plush, hot walls yanking him violently over the edge. Liquid static condenses, then pulses through him, and he lets out a guttural noise as he fucks his load into you.

The rhythm of his hips slow, then come to a stop.

He looks down at you, panting, and brushes his thumb against your cheek, searching your face for signs of regret, and notices you’re studying him in the same manner.

You smooth your hands over his shoulders, then pull him into a sweet, lingering kiss. When your lips depart his, you release a heavy sigh, dragging your nails through his damp bed head as you ask, “What time do you have to go?”

An old, familiar ache returns. Reality setting in. He realizes what the day holds in store for him. Sarah’s birthday party. Spending the day with family and friends, playing pretend.

When he thinks about being around you and Angie simultaneously, how he will have to act neutral or even cold towards you, his stomach twists and a sour taste rises in his throat. He’s been here a million times and it always leaves him nauseous with shame. It doesn’t feel right. It never felt right.

I don’t want to do this anymore.

Everything seems to click into place. He understands what he has to do.

“Pablo is picking me up around 9.”

Your throat bobs and a crease forms between your brows as you avert your gaze, fingers still working through his hair, “Today’s gonna be a fucking nightmare, isn’t it?”

“Mmm,” he presses a kiss into your forehead, right on the little worry lines, mumbling against your skin, “It’ll be ok.”

“Yeah,” you scoff, “We just fucked, now we’re gonna spend the day with your wife and daughter, what could go wrong?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” he chuckles, but you don’t find it funny.

You flinch and look down, hands curling to your chest. Frankie tilts your chin up. When he meets your eyes, they’re bloodshot and watery. He opens his mouth to say something, frantically searching his brain for some kind of band-aid, but the box is empty. He’s not sure what to say to comfort you. All that comes out of his stupid fucking mouth is, “I—fuck, sorry.”

“No, it’s ok,” you wipe your eyes and sit up, so he draws back, watching you scramble to put your shorts back on, “I, um… I’ll go make some coffee.”

He wants to assure you it will be ok, that he’s going to fix this, make things right. Something he should have done years ago. But the words lodge in his chest. What if he can’t fix it? What if it’s another promise he can’t keep?

So he just sits there and lets you walk away for the millionth time.

After taking a shower and getting dressed, Frankie pours a cup of coffee and walks into the living room, where you’re scribbling in your notebook, limbs twisted up into a tight knot. Uncertainty paralyzes him in the archway between rooms. He takes a step back, pauses, then steps forward.

You smack the notebook and blink at him, “Oh my god Frankie, just sit down, you’re making me nervous.”

He nods and strides over to the couch, lowering himself onto the cushion beside you with a groan. Meanwhile, you return your attention to the notebook, furrowing your brow as you write.

Curiosity flips his stomach. Is it about him? About what just happened?

Desperately, he wants you to share your feelings on the matter with him like you would your journal. The unfiltered truth.

Do you want this like I do?

He takes a big, burning sip of coffee, then asks, “What’re you writing about?”

Your eyebrow arches and you continue to scribble as you narrate, “Dear diary, he’s gonna be super fucking weird about this now, isn’t he?”

Frankie snorts, shaking his head while you spear your pencil down the notebook’s wired spine and smirk at him. He tugs at one of your ankles, and you welcome the invitation, stretching your legs out across his lap and he scoots closer.

“Am I being weird about it?” he asks, glancing down into his steaming mug.

You exchange the notebook for your coffee and raise it to your lips before shrugging, “A little. But I think I am, too, so…” You take a loud sip, then lower your mug and ask, “Do you regret it yet?”

He doesn’t even think about it. The answer barrels from his heart to his mouth.

“No.”

A timid sort of smile curves your lips. It reminds him of the way a neglected animal would react to an outstretched hand. Cautious. Not sure if he’ll slap or pet you, but hopeful.

“Really?”

He nods, searching your face, “What about you?”

“No. But—” your smile falters, eyes dropping to your coffee cup, “But I’m scared.”

Guilt pools icy cold in his guts. His throat bobs on its own accord. He takes your hand, weaving his fingers with yours.

Your face twists into a pained expression and you croak, “What are we even doing here?”

“I don’t know yet,” he shakes his head, “But give me some time—”

“I can’t be your mistress again,” you whisper, shaking your head as tears pool in your eyes, voice escalating, tinged with panic, “Please don’t ask me to do that again, it would kill me, Frankie, I fucking can’t—”

“Hey—no,” he sits up to place his mug on the table, takes yours and does the same, then scoops you up onto his lap.

You bury your face in his neck. Sobs work through your body with violent force—a horrible, tortured sound that pulverizes his heart. All he can do is squeeze you tight and do his best to restrain his own tears. It barely works. Self-loathing bubbles under his skin.

His voice cracks as he tells you, “I won’t do that to you again, mariposa, I promise. I’ll fix it, I promise I’ll fix it, ok?”

He clenches his eyes shut, cradling you as a few more strangled noises burst from your chest, each one driving the thought deeper: I don’t want to do this anymore.

“Give me some time,” he rasps into your hair, “I promise I’ll fix it—”

“You’re just saying that because I’m crying,” you choke out in an accusatory fashion, then take a big, wet, gasping breath.

“No, I’m not—hey, look at me.”

He pulls back to meet your eyes, but you shake your head in protest, covering your face, “I don’t want to, I’m ugly crying.”

“Ugly crying?” Frankie snorts, “I don’t know about that, let me see.”

Your shoulders bounce with a soggy, muffled chuckle, “Shut up.”

He smirks at the spunky response as you sniffle and drop your hands, shooting him a glare he knows you don’t mean. Feigning seriousness, he pinches your chin to inspect your damp, puffy face.

“Hmm,” he clicks his tongue and sighs, “Just as I thought. Too goddamn pretty for your own good.”

To this, you roll your eyes and chuckle, “You’re a liar.”

“Maybe,” he shrugs, thumb sliding across the plush of your bottom lip, “But not about this.”

Your gaze softens as you search his face, “Which part?”

“All of it.”

“Really?”

Frankie nods.

You study him, brow furrowed, eyes welling up. Everything is so silent and still, he wonders if the world stopped turning. A fat tear rolls down your cheek and you croak out, “You better not be fucking with me, Francisco.”

“I’m not—”

“Because, I swear to god, if you’re lying—”

He cups your cheeks and holds your gaze steady on his, “I promise, ok? I’ll tell Ang later this week. But today…” He trails off, shaking his head, “I don’t know.”

A few tears break loose, so he wipes them away.

The column of your throat bobs and you ask, “Do you still want me to go?”

He tucks a lock of hair behind your ear, “Do you still want to go?”

“You first.”

“I’d like it if you did. And it would mean a lot to Sarah,” he slips his arms around your waist and leans back onto the couch. You follow, laying your head on his shoulder, melting into him as he pets your hair and says, “But it’s up to you. It might be hard.”

“Because you’re still… with her, right? Like this?”

His chest aches. You flatten your palm against his heart and he tells you, “Yeah. Well, kind of. It’s different, but yeah.”

“Different how?”

I don’t love her. Not like this.

“I, um… I don’t know how to explain it. She’s just a different person. Our relationship isn’t like this. It’s kind of like it was, but, you know… worse.”

You’re quiet for a moment, then ask, “Do you still fuck her?”

“No.”

The lie slips out automatically. Immediately, his stomach drops to the ground. He wishes he could take it back, and for a second, he considers it. But, at the same time, you don’t need to know about a one-time fuck up.

He shifts a little, looking down at you, “But we’re still… affectionate sometimes. Which could be hard to see. So, it’s up to you.”

You smooth your hand up his chest, to his neck, and sit up to meet his eyes, “I’ll go.”

Frankie nods, searching your face.

“We can behave, right?” your eyebrow quirks, and you glance down at his mouth.

“Uh huh,” he leans closer, inhaling your breath, brushing his knuckles against your cheek.

But when his lips meet yours, and sparks ignite under his skin, he knows it’s just another lie.

#designated person #frankie morales #francisco morales #francisco catfish morales #frankie catfish morales #triple frontier #triple frontier fic #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales fanfiction #francisco morales x reader #francisco morales x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fic

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hailucy · 1 year ago

Note

Hi! Do you mind doing a like quick drabble compilation thing of just you and dominic being flirtatious on live, either like before you go public about your relationship or where people already know. Hope your day is going well! ☺️

Yikes | d.f

pairing: dominic fike x reader

summary: your on live and something gets revealed

warning: none except swearing(middle finger)

words: 217

taglist: none this time but comment if you want to be added to any future ones and pleaseeee send some requests!!!

a/n: here you go! i know it took a long time(ive been really busy)but i hope its something you enjoy. ik u asked for a compilation but i dont know what else to do so if u want something more specific and another part just ask again!

"Would I ever eat a worm to get one million?" you say reading the comment one of your fans asked on your live.

"Hell yeah!" Dominic exclaimed behind you with riveting enthusiasm.

"Ok... I would say yes but with less excitement and willingness."

You hear him mock you jokingly under his breath causing you to turn around and stick up your middle finger. Turning back around to face your phone again, you carry on interacting with the people who joined the live

"Anyways the reason I started this live is to say thank you for all the love on my latest single guys. It really means a lot and I hope you continue to stream it!"

You receive many compliments in the comments and a rush of comments saying that they love your song and can't wait for the album. Hearing the chair that Dominic was sitting on creak, you turn and he comes toward you with a loving look on his face.

"I gotta go, baby," he leans in and gives you a small but love-filled peck which you reciprocate.

"Bye Dom," you say and then freeze.

Slowly you turn back to the live and see the stampede of comments.

You turn back and see an equally frozen Dominic. You look at each other.

"Whoops"

"Yikes"

#dominic fike #dominic fike x reader #dominic fike x you #singer reader #elliot x reader

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sleepdeprivedlilbean · 7 months ago

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ah yes my favorite duo 💃🕺 : centuries old eldridge horror and his ✨favorite man slut✨

close-ups and my ramblings under the cut (it’s a lot guys. i have a lot of feelings about them and i was just YAPPING 😫)

yall really ate up my last post with Nightmare which omg thank u guys so much for that 🥺

now here’s more 😈

anyway

slutty manservant isn’t the only outfit Killer has, but it’s definitely his favorite lmao (the amount of times he’s been asked if he’s a Lust variant is crazy 💀. don’t get me wrong tho they r besties 💅)

the trench coat vibe was also definitely the way to go with Nightmare and i just 😫

now what’s their dynamic?

i definitely feel like my version of Nightmare and Killer are very much a “talks and listens” duo like shown with the chibi little guys

honestly tho, at first their relationship was strictly business and transactional, but the more time they spent together, the more comfortable they got in each others company and eventually became friends and equals and maybe more

and i feel like during all of that it’s just the two of them. Murder and Horror don’t show up until waaay later once Killer and Nightmare’s relationship has already been established

and no their relationship (whatever it may be, romantic or not i’ll be honest i still haven’t decided 🥲) isn’t toxic, as how i c my Nightmare isn’t anything like cannon Nightmare if that wasn’t already clear

my Nightmare, once free from the rage fueled haze of his corruption, is actually rather calm, collected, and dare say kind in his own way (he is a man of action and very few words)

he doesn’t create negativity out of malicious intent, but rather out of necessity, and actively will comfort those who are greatly struggling, which is how he first came into contact with Killer, seeing him isolated in his dying world

Killer was the first person Nightmare had attempted to “comfort” per say, and was freshly free from his corrupted mentality, hence, y he wasn’t very good at it lol. also, the corruption was reason he hadn’t gotten to Killer sooner in the first place, as he as actively enjoying the suffering Killer was going through at the time. if that makes sense???

anyway, sure they might have been cold to each other at first, with a lack of comforting on Nightmare’s part which somehow turned into a partnership?? but nothing was ever abusive within their relationship

i feel like the turning point for them would be that Nightmare admits to Killer in a moment of vulnerability that he was the first and only person to treat him like he wasn’t some, abomination. monster. freak

he’s never judged him based on his poor past actions, nor is role/duty

he accepts him. and all of him. fully and with all of his flaws not that he has any

(god i love them)

i do feel like if they were in a romantic relationship it’d be rather casual in a way that makes it clear there’s something going on between them, but they’re definitely not the type for pda (veeerrry rarely and only in front of people the trust. it’s a different story when they’re in bed tho 😏)

they’re the old married couple that banters and teases each other but with much more sexual tension lol

ok that’s enough yapping from me haha

if you’ve made it this far genuinely ur the best like wow 🥹

this was a looooot of nonsense so thanks for taking the time to read it all

i’ll be honest i still have more to say but like 💀 nah im cut off-

maybe someday tho…

alright bye 😘

#killer sans #nightmare sans #corrupted nightmare sans #dreamtale #THE LORE EPISODE #damn wtf was i on this was just a shit ton of info dumping good god-#got me like 💀#i definitely am still working out some of the kinks in their story #i did not say everything i wanted too and there’s definitely things missing #but i just need to get some on it down and ill keep adjusting and adding stuff from their ig #also 👀#y do they gotta be so fine like that tho 🫦#ignore me fr fr 🧍‍♀️#JUST LET MY RANT IN MY OWN LITTLE CORNER 😤#sleepies art

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sundewhasaudhd · 6 months ago

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Ok, let’s do this. So, this is my main DSMP AU

Jesus, the timeline of this thing so confusing, because most of the content for this AU was written down, it was me and my friend talking in character at 12:00-4:00am, so this probably won’t be fully concrete, and I’m still figuring out the main plot points and what’s canon to the AU. But a basic summary(ish) is: Dream got put back in prison (along with George), but not before messing with Ranboo’s memory book, so now he can possess Ranboo. Lots of shit happened, but I mainly focus on TNT duo (because they’re my sillies and I love them). TNT duo at this point basically just have a rivals with benefits sort of thing going on. Then, one day, Wilbur asked out Quackity, and he said yes. They went on that date, and had a great time, until, Quackity asked Wilbur to join Las Nevadas. Wilbur said he felt like he didn’t think he deserve it, Quackity took it SUPER personally (because of source he did), and then this occurred (I’m only showing the script because I’m not sure how else to describe it) (Wilbur’s W and Dream’s D if you couldn’t tell):

This interaction resulted in what I like to call “Wilbur’s self isolation arc”, where because he thinks he’s the worst person alive, he tries to shut out everyone who he thinks cares about him (which is literally just three people). And this works(ish), until he tries to it Quackity (kind of [I’ll post that script later {probably}]), and Quackity does NOT let that happen. Some time after that, Quackity asks Wilbur again if he to join Las Nevadas, to which Wilbur says yes this time (for reasons that make sense with context, I promise), and the major events after that are stuff that I consider spoilers, which I will gradually post after I post most of the stuff leading up to that. Geez, I really hope you like this and that this sounds interesting. If u want to hear me info dump about this AU to you, feel to message me about it on Tumblr :]. Anyways, I’m gonna go reread some script and scroll through Tumblr and Pinterest l, have a good day/night everyone, thank you for reading these, bye :D

#dsmp #dsmp au #c!wilbur #c!quackity #c!tntduo #c!ranboo #c!dream #c!george #i think this is the longest i’ve ever yapped on this website #i hope you guys like it #these au’s make me so so so happy #i hope i can I make at least one other person feel that way

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3terna15unshin3 · 1 year ago

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Touch

Who will be the first to break?

2704 words

warnings: !! 18+ !! smut, mutual masturbation, unprotected sex, very minimal editing (sorry)

—

a/n: Not requested but last time i posted smut y’all really liked it lmfao😭😭 I also felt sufficiently inspired to write a mutual masturbation tbsg blurb bc of tdab pt 2 by the iconic @lottiecrabie and also this fic that i love by @wrongendofurcigarette <33333 thank u for the inspo besties ok anyway hope u enjoy love u bye xo

(I wrote an entire 15 chapter fic of this universe! Read it here)

—

Matty was supposed to touch down on the tarmac around half nine. But as a symbol of his amazing luck, weather delays held him back and Este sat at home, impatiently waiting and jittering with anticipation. It was almost eleven in the evening and he still hadn’t arrived.

The months he’d been gone inched slowly by, and she only felt herself missing him more the closer his return date approached. Este started to feel like the floors of their home were colder in his absence. Like the lights were either too dim that she had to squint or too bright that it made her head throb. But sulking about it didn’t help—so she busied herself to make time go by faster.

She went on runs with Keiko. Wrote her weekly pieces twice as fast. Read double the amount of novels. Dipped her right hand into her knickers and thought about Matty. Sometimes alone, and sometimes with his virtual company; always hearing him whine about how much better Este felt around him in comparison to his fist.

There was usually food ready to satisfy his hungry post-flight state, but because of the late hour, he insisted that Este shouldn’t bother. He didn’t want to waste time eating. If I get hungry then I’ll just eat her, thought Matty during his Uber home.

She was on the brink of falling asleep when Matty sent her a message to let her know that he would pull up at any second. Her body sprung up and ran to wait in the doorway before she could even process the words. There were butterflies pounding at her chest purely at the way the approaching headlights hit the pavement. She leaned on the doorframe and attempted to appear cool and collected. Then, an idea came to mind.

He pretty much tackled Este into an embrace when he finally walked up. They waddled into the house and breathed in each other’s scents. “Hi baby,” Matty whispered, pulling his face away to bring her lips to his.

But, only millimetres before they could graze, Este inched away. She had on a mischievous smirk instead, letting Matty feel her hot breath on his skin as she exhaled.

Worry grew in his mind. “Is something wrong?”

“Nothing at all, love,” Este shook her head, backing away even more to grab the bags his hands gripped to bring them to their bedroom. A smirk still sat on her lips as he cluelessly followed behind her confident steps. “I was just thinking about how long it’s been since you’ve touched me.”

His throat immediately dried up as he caught on to what she was doing. Este knew they were both desperate for one thing—but wanted him to prove how bad he wanted it.

“Yeah, fuck. It’s been ages. So let me,” Matty begged, reaching to caress her jaw. She was quick to dodge.

“But don’t you ever wonder how long we can make it? Before we break?”

Este’s hips swayed back and forth purposefully as she took the claw clip that sat on her bedside table. In a few swift manoeuvres, she threw her dark hair up and secured it there. He watched her hands work meticulously and adored the way the shorter wavy pieces fell out of the clip and dangled next to her face. What he didn’t adore was that he could now see so much of her neck, and that she surely wouldn’t let him kiss it.

“What are you doing?” He asked gingerly.

It was a rhetorical question. You know exactly what I’m doing, thought Este.

“Posing a question, ‘s all.” She answered, walking back around the bed to exit their room and head to the kitchen. Matty followed, of course.

Their feet padded down the stairs. “Don’t do this to me, E. Please,” he finally vocalised.

It took everything in her to leave him hanging for the couple of seconds it took to fetch the bottle of red she’d been saving. She uncorked it and took a swig, repressing the want (more like need) to pounce onto him like a cat.

“First one to touch loses.”

"Fine. Game on."

—

They brought the bottle of wine over to the sofa and took turns sipping it. To not be as tempted, they even sat on opposite ends. Out of reach.

It wasn’t until then that Matty realised she was wearing a pair of his boxers as shorts. She had to roll over the waistband a couple of times to stop them from falling off her hips, but they still fit loosely. The way Este was scrunched up—clearly trying to make herself comfortable within the couch cushions—made the boxers tug lower. Matty peered at the skin low on her hips and made the assumption that she wasn’t wearing anything underneath. God. If he yanked them down her thighs there would be nothing between him and her cunt.

He adjusted his pants, growing hard at the thought. Not a great way to play if he wanted to win.

Este was just as hot and bothered as him, but was just a bit better at hiding it. She stared at his hand that gripped the remote, flicking through the options on Netflix mindlessly (though he couldn’t care less about what was on the telly). The veins on the back of his hand flexed, and Este’s eyes watched. She then trailed them upwards on his arm and took note of how sculpted they were. Had they always been that big? she thought. Bloody hell.

As if on perfect cue, Matty scooched himself lower, now almost fully on his back to relax. He threw an arm up and behind his head, hand cradling the back of his neck. The action flicked the bottom hem of his t-shirt upwards, forcing the ink on his skin to be exposed to the air. His hips rose and wiggled back and forth before he sealed the comfy action with a quick yawn. Of course he chose to do it while he saw Este’s head turned to him instead of the television, feeling the burn of her gaze. Any other day, she’d be on his lap in seconds.

Her breathing quickened. It was a bit embarrassing that something so simple could drive her insane—so she briefly used her hands to cover her reddening face. Holding out as a strategy clearly wasn’t going well. So, Este thought of what might speed things up.

“Gonna go for a wee. You know what wine does to me,” she suddenly announced, getting up and running to the toilet. Sure, she really did have to go. But once she finished, she decided to leave the boxers on the bathroom floor instead of pulling them back on.

Walking back into Matty’s line of sight, now only clothed with a black baby tee that hugged her torso and nothing on her bottom half, Este stopped in front of him to bend down and grab the bottle of wine that sat on the coffee table. She turned around to face him and locked her eyes with his as she took a swig.

His mouth fell open for the few seconds he maintained the eye contact, but soon let his focus fall down her body, ultimately stopping at her bare pussy. He watched the space below her belly button expand and contract as she slowly breathed in and out. He even saw her thighs clench together. You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, he thought. This is torture.

“My eyes are up here,” commented Este playfully, breaking the trance he was clearly stuck in, and then returning to her corner of the sofa.

“Fuck off,” Matty confidently responded with a scoff, though she could tell from the small smile of defeat on his face that she’d caught him off guard. “Didn’t have the balls to leave the shirt behind too, huh? Only my boxers?”

She raised her eyebrows. “Oh, do you want it gone? In that case—”

Matty then watched the small black article of clothing hit the floor, leaving Este completely nude & no more than a metre out of his reach. The same Este he hadn’t touched in nine weeks.

A smug look stared back at him as he thought of ways to one-up her. He couldn’t just copy and strip, like her. It had to be something more. So, he reached into his pants—still looking at her in the eye—pulling his cock out. Why beat around the bush? It was already red and hard, begging to be touched. And since he couldn’t touch her, he touched himself instead.

Este refused to look away. She couldn’t. Her brown eyes were locked onto his fist that tugged slowly up and down his length. Subconsciously, she swiped her bottom lip with her tongue.

“Look at you, licking your lips. Wishing it was your mouth,” taunted Matty, “You don’t even want me to touch you. You want to touch me, baby. You love it when I fuck your face.”

He watched her writhe and sigh in dissatisfaction, seeing that Este knew he was right. Her hand inched down to her throbbing and exposed clit, finally daring to apply some pressure and whining in relief.

“You’ve got quite the ego on yourself, Healy,” she squeaked, trying not to moan at her fingers circling her clit with haste. “You’ll be begging to cum in my mouth. Touch me first and maybe I’ll let you.”

Matty’s hips bucked upwards as he matched the speed of his pumps to that of Este’s hand against herself. “Fuck, you’re killing me,” he moaned, closing his eyes in pleasure and fantasy.

Waiting until she saw his stare reconnect with hers, Este teased her fingertips south to her entrance. It was slick with wetness and desperate to be filled. Siding two fingers in, her jaw dropped open, and her hips rocked upwards to feel them deeper. A gasp escaped her lips. She let out a shaky groan when they bottomed out and yearned for them to be Matty’s instead.

“Mine don’t fill me up the way yours do.”

The sounds of both her fingers moving in and out of her cunt and him fucking his fist radiated throughout the room, overtaking whatever Netflix show Matty settled on. Both moving in sync.

“Come over here and sit on me, then. I can fuck you better than that,” he coerced.

Watching through his half-shut eyelids, he thought, I bet her wrist is tired. She’ll give in soon. But by then it was less of a thought and more of a prayer.

“But that would mean you’d win,” Este pointed out the obvious. “And I can’t let that happen.”

He rolled his eyes. “Turn to me, E. I need to see more of you,” commanded Matty.

She listened and pivoted, spreading her thighs even further. She arched her back off of the sofa when her fingers grazed a certain spot, making her hold back what she knew would have been Matty’s name slipping past her lips. Her thumb rubbed furiously at her clit simultaneously. Surely he’ll touch me if I come, considered Este, chasing her high.

His lip was pinned between his teeth as he continued watching her. Her sopping pussy was in full view, making Matty think of what it felt like around him. The way she’d clench her walls just before he was about to cum and how it would always get him there faster. How easily he could make that familiar sensation a reality if he’d just give in.

Studying Este’s chest, where her other hand sat and fiddled with her hard nipples, Matty saw how quickly it heaved up and down. Her breaths were laboured. A layer of sweat glistened on her forehead and her gaze struggled to pin onto him. She’s close, he discovered.

“You’re almost there, darling. I know that arm of yours is tired. I’d have you cumming in seconds if you just come over and let me win,” he whispered desperately.

Este moaned at his words, speeding up her fingers. “So are you,” she pointed out, “and if you cum in your—fuck, Matty—if you cum in your hand, you won’t get to cum inside me.”

She made a good point. He sped up to match her, thrusting his hips up to meet his hand faster.

“Then come here and sit on me,” whined Matty, still not giving in, frustrating Este. Resentment for her silly game grew. If he wouldn’t let her win now, she had to do more. The visual wasn’t enough. She had to beg for it. Literally.

“Please, baby! I feel so fucking empty. I need you to fuck me now. Riding you won’t be enough. I need you to come over here and hold me down and fuck me—shit! Rail me so hard that we forget our own names. Need to feel you deeper than I ever have. Do whatever you want to me, please, Matty. I’ll do anything—”

Her voice pushed him over the edge. He didn't care about the stupid game anymore.

He wasn’t sure if he’d ever moved so fast in his life; climbing over to Este’s side of the sofa. She gasped when she felt Matty’s hands grip her hips to pull her closer, not giving her any time to adjust before sinking himself into her cunt.

They groaned in unison, the feeling they were chasing hit them even harder after the painstaking period of forbidden touch. She felt every inch of him against her walls, pressing a hand into her lower stomach to feel him there too.

“Is this what you wanted?” he intensely spat at her, beginning to pound into her with no avail.

Matty’s hips slammed together with hers over and over, lighting the fire in Este’s core. Her mind went hazy with pleasure and she struggled to even answer him. Her jaw was stuck agape and the only things he could hear out of her were frenzied and pornographic moans.

“Yes, fuck, yes. Don’t stop, I’m gonna cum,” she cried.

He squeezed his eyes tightly shut as he felt his climax approach too. But he couldn’t keep them shut for long, as he craved the sight of her beneath him, still tirelessly swiping at her clit. Her breasts bounced up and down at the force of Matty’s hips, which now buckled with a messy rhythm. The hair that stuck to her wet forehead was swiped away by a finger of his, getting it out of the way, needing the full view of Este’s face.

“Cum for me, E. I thought about this every night when I was gone. Couldn’t hold back any longer—fuck—you win. This pussy is mine. So perfect for me,” Matty egged.

Este let go and the notorious clench of her walls pushed him to do the same. The warmth deep inside her signalled that Matty had shot his hot seed into her, groaning and worshipping her name as he did. She reached up to yank on his curls and saw stars for a moment, the pure euphoria carrying her high in pleasure like she’d never seen before. He gave her exactly what she’d been needing, those nights alone. Nobody could fuck her like him.

Her stomach immediately felt like jello in the aftershock of her orgasm. They both panted into each other's mouths, slick with sweat, giddy smiles on their faces. Matty’s arms gave out, laying on top of her gently, still twitching inside of her. He didn’t have an ounce of extra energy to pull out. Not that he really wanted to, anyway.

“What’s my prize?” Este asked, throat rough from the screaming she’d just done.

Matty glanced at the TV, where the time was displayed. 00:28. They hadn’t even lasted half an hour at her ‘game’.

“I reckon I can make you cum three more times before we fall asleep?” he suggested.

“Deal,” she agreed, “Or you can fuck my face like you mentioned. Up to you,” finished Este with a giggle.

His eyes widened in shock, hiding his face in her neck as they both laughed.

“Might need a bit of time to, you know, recharge before we get to that. But I am not passing up on that offer.”

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