#before you make fun of me it's actually worse than it looks

[bloatedandalone04]

Drunk Boyfriend - Blurb

WC: 1.3k | Warnings: fluff, swearing, alcohol consumption, drunk rafe, mentions of smut.

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡ | THANK YOU FOR 5.6K FOLLWERS

When Topper called you from Rafe’s phone, you made a complete ass of yourself when you answered it by saying, “Hey, sexy. How’s the party? Ready to come have some actual fun with me yet?”

To which Topper respectfully declined before he informed you that your boyfriend may or may not have had a little too much to drink, and that it may or may not be best for you to come get him. 

You were still up, thankfully, since the whole reason you weren’t with Rafe like you usually always are was because you had multiple college applications you were working on. 

After both you and Topper forgot about your…choice of words you said to him when you picked up the call, you pushed yourself off your bed and threw on a cardigan to cover up your tank top and sleep shorts. You assumed you’d just be waiting in the car and Topper would come bring your drunk boyfriend out to you, but as you waited and glanced around the cup-littered and crowded yard, you grew a bit impatient once it hit the five minute mark. 

Inside was way worse than outside, and you had no idea where to even start to find Rafe or Topper. After somewhat clearing the living and dining rooms, you were about to check upstairs when you heard a multitude of laughing and cheering coming from the kitchen, so you went to check in there instead. 

And that’s where you found both Rafe and Topper. Rafe was literally standing on the counter, his head nearly grazing the ceiling as he downed one cup after the other, and Topper was standing below him, his hands placed firmly on Rafe’s knees to ensure he didn’t fall. At least Topper looked somewhat…less drunk. 

You’d only made it a couple steps into the kitchen when Rafe’s eyes met yours, and his face lit up like a kid on Christmas. “Y/n!” he greeted, not taking Topper’s outstretched hand and instead just jumping down from the counter before quickly making his way over to you. When he reached you, he pulled you into a tight hug, burying his face against the side of your neck as he unevenly swayed with you to the music that was playing throughout the house. “You didn’t tell me you were coming tonight, baby. I would’ve waited for you.”

His grip on you was so tight and strong, but you were kinda glad, because he was also putting a lot of his weight on you, and you surely would’ve fallen by now if he wasn’t holding you up. You looked over at Topper, who gave you a guilty glance before he quickly turned away and busied himself with something else. 

“I doubt that,” you mumbled, unsure if Rafe even heard you as you turned with him and guided him towards the exit of the crowded kitchen. “How much did you drink, babe? Can you walk?”

“Um, I don’t know…A lot? Fuck, I can’t even remember,” he slurred, draping his arm around your shoulder as he leaned heavily against you, his other hand reaching up to adjust his crooked, backwards hat. “Walk? Yeah, I can walk. I’m walking right now.” 

He said that, but his legs looked very wobbly as he struggled to keep up with you. But before you could get him out of this packed house and into your car, he stopped and grabbed your shoulders, nearly knocking you off your feet. 

“Y/n, baby, you gotta get me out of here,” he groaned desperately, dipping his head down to rest his forehead against yours. “This place is lame as fuck without you.” he added, his fingers digging into the skin of your hips possessively as his lips ghosted over yours, and you had to ignore how good his hands felt. 

Before he could slide your tank top up even more, you took his hands in yours and pulled him along with you. “I’m trying to,” you muttered, guiding him successfully out the front door and down the steps. When he stumbled on the last one and fell into you, you couldn’t stop the laugh from tumbling out of your mouth as you held onto him. “Fuck, Rafe…are you okay?” 

He didn’t even seem fazed as he nodded his head. “I’m fine, baby. Just…I just need you. Fucking missed you,” he rasped, grabbing hold of your hips as he pulled your body right up against his. His eyes lingered on your lips for a few seconds before he squeezed you even tighter, “Wanna take you home.”

You shook your head, tightening your hold on him as you hooked his arm around your shoulders again. “Sorry, baby, but I’m the one who’s taking you home. You can’t even walk straight right now,” you mumbled, pulling him along with you to your car. “Do you have your house key? And your phone?”

Rafe nods, mumbling something you couldn’t understand as he reaches into his pockets. You unlocked the passenger side door as he found his phone and keys, “Got ‘em right here, baby,” he announced, holding both items in front of your face. When you took them from him, Rafe leaned in and nuzzled his nose against your neck as he slid onto the seat. “You’re so good to me…always taking care of me.”

You were pulled forward when his hands wrapped around the backs of your thighs and tugged you towards him, making you brace your hands against his shoulders. 

“I love you so fucking much,” he mumbled, his fingers teasing the end of your sleep shorts, “And you look so fucking hot. Makes me wanna bend you over the hood right now.”

You had to laugh, because his eyes were literally closing as he said that, and he willingly went when you pushed him back so he was sitting properly on the seat. “Let’s get you home, in bed, and sober before we talk about bending me over, yeah?” you suggested, buckling his seatbelt. 

Rafe smiles drunkenly at you, leaning into your touch when you leaned in and pressed a kiss to his forehead, and before you could pull away again, he guided your mouth to his in a surprisingly sweet kiss. “I love you,” he mumbled again, his nose bumping against yours. 

“I love you too,” you said back, kissing him one last time before you closed the door and got in on the driver’s side. Once you were behind the wheel, Rafe reached over and took your hand in his, lacing your fingers together as you started the car. “Don’t fall asleep, okay? I can’t carry you, so if you don’t want to spend the night in my car, stay awake for a little longer.”

Rafe nodded, but his head was already rolling to the side. 

And even though your house wasn’t very far, Rafe was completely passed out when you got there. “Rafe,” you mumbled, giving his hand a squeeze, but he didn’t even flinch. “Seriously?” you groaned, leaning back in your seat as you turned off the car. 

You weren’t lying when you said you couldn’t carry him and that he’d be spending the night in your car, but you also couldn’t leave him. So you took off your seatbelt and reached over to push his seat back so he was more comfortable before moving to do the same to yours, but before you could, he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you onto his body. 

You thought maybe he had woken up, but when you looked at him, his face was completely relaxed and his body was still. “You’re something else, you know that?” you mumbled as you shifted into a more comfortable position on top of him. 

And that was how you fell asleep that night; laying on top of your wasted boyfriend who, even in his sleep state, couldn’t keep his hands off you.

[sufferu]

Holy heck PLEASE tell me if Subaru’s insecurities are blinding him at LEAST a little bit

There’s NO WAY the others are messing up this BADLY, tell me a lie if you have to there’s no way they’re messing this up so much

How bad are they messing up? 😭😭 Surely not that bad right??? Right???

(This is about BTZ btw)

I DID tag that fic as “Unreliable Narrator” for a reason lol. The misunderstandings that the story hinges on are very much due in part to everyone else just — constantly rolling critical fails, but they’re also due to a whole spell of bad luck that means everything just has the worst possible timing, and also due to Subaru being both incredibly insecure and completely unwilling to let on to the fact that he’s actually feeling very hurt right now.

But — for some examples about how badly this disconnect is going…

Julius: Julius is fully under the impression that he and Subaru are buds. He did try to apologize at first, and pull back a bit, and when Wilhelm roped him into training as a way to try and scare Subaru away from the idea of being a swordsman he immediately protested out of concern for Subaru’s mental well-being — but then Subaru insisted on fighting him and that he totally wasn’t emotionally affected and also Julius is ugly and stupid and he’s totally gonna win this time. Julius genuinely came away from this interaction thinking that 1) Subaru just wants to move on already and trying to be apologetic about it would just be insulting, and 2) Subaru is not just unafraid, but is actively looking to roughhouse with him — an impression that completely falls in line with his memory of old-timeline!Subaru having been a massive masochist.

From here on, Julius feels that he’s constantly being encouraged to be rougher and rougher with Subaru due to Subaru not just never backing down, but also actively escalating situations in an effort to prove just how not-scared he is. He’s genuinely just following Subaru’s lead. But because Subaru is lying about his true feelings and what he actually wants, this arrangement is actively making Subaru’s mental health worse.

Things Julius does in service of this massive miscommunication:

Teases him almost constantly. It’s a lot meaner than he would be with anyone else, but this is SUBARU. He remembers damn well how disappointed and sulky Subaru would get in the old timeline if he didn’t bait him a little now and then. And this current Subaru gets riled up in much the same way, so it must be the same scenario.

Spars with him regularly. He’s terrible at losing on purpose, and also he’s a total show-off who likes taking Subaru by surprise — ie. bring out his spirits for a flashy new move in an eager desire to see Subaru’s reaction to something he has legitimately never witnessed before in his life. He thinks this is all in good fun and that Subaru is having just as good a time as he is (or even that Subaru is having even MORE fun than Julius, because a large part of why Julius likes this is specifically because he believes he is showing Subaru a good time).

Sneaks up behind him after a long shift patrolling in the cold and announces his presence by pressing his freezing hand against the back of his neck to make him scream.

Tries to instruct Subaru about good etiquette in the midst of “lighthearted banter.” He doesn’t realize that Subaru thinks he’s threatening him.

Sits on him at one point. See the Sparring Practice ficlet.

(The BTZ III reveal that Subaru was legitimately terrified of him this entire time HURTS, because it recontextualizes everything that the knight believed had been his way of showing Subaru affection and camaraderie. Julius never, ever wanted to make him feel this bad.)

Wilhelm: Subaru is now Wilhelm’s grandson. Wilhelm forgot to tell Subaru about this. —Well, it’s more accurate to say that he’s trying to prove his worth as a potential grandfather first by eliminating the Witch Cult, but because of this Subaru has no fucking clue that Wilhelm sees him as anything more than an unwelcome pest. This means that a lot of Wilhelm’s attempts to bond with him outside of dueling practice are interpreted…differently.

Wilhelm and Subaru go out for tea at a high-end establishment. Wilhelm spends so much time getting Subaru dressed properly in a suit and tries to use the opportunity as a way to teach him how to conduct himself in formal settings in an environment that is low-stakes and ultimately very much just for fun. Subaru does not understand what is happening and is so caught up in his impression of “Wilhelm hates me” that he interprets all of this in the most hostile light imaginable.

(Did not help that Wilhelm initially suggested that Subaru wear a dress. Wilhelm was just trying to coax out that interest in crossdressing that he already knows is a genuine part of Subaru’s identity. Subaru thought it was an insult about how badly he was failing as a prospective knight.)

He’s not the only one in charge of this, but Wilhelm spends a lot of time teaching Subaru how to read. He tries to be more lax and friendly here than he is during those swordsmanship lessons he wishes Subaru would stop insisting on. Subaru either does not notice or is so on-edge that he thinks Wilhelm is just being subtler, now that he doesn’t have a ready-made excuse to whack him over the head.

Wilhelm initially asked Julius to spar with Subaru in his stead in yet another attempt to scare Subaru off from the sport, but this quickly turned into him ALLOWING them to spar together because he thought Subaru genuinely liked sparring with Julius and caved at the idea of Subaru being able to actually play with a trusted knight in a controlled environment. Subaru interprets his motivations VERY differently here.

Wilhelm is gonna learn that Subaru thinks he despises him and die a little inside. He put off adopting him because he thought he had to prove himself first, but in doing so he may have just destroyed their relationship entirely. He wants to go back and kick himself.

Crusch: I haven’t spoken about Crusch a lot, but her role is fairly important here, even if she might not show up a WHOLE lot. Crusch’s relationship with Subaru is somewhat distant when compared to characters like Wilhelm, Ferris, Julius, and Reinhard — who interact with him almost constantly — but she’s technically the one “in charge” of him at the moment, and she’s prepared to take on that role up until the point Wilhelm finally formally adopts him into his household. This outcome is one that everyone BUT Subaru has accepted as an inevitability.

Crusch believes that her job is to make sure that Subaru has a stable, structured environment that can not just keep him safe, but also serve to instruct him on how to behave himself properly in this new world, because he was INFAMOUS for not being able to conduct himself in what would have been considered an appropriate manner in the old timeline. The only reason he got away with it was because of his many spectacular feats, and everyone knows that they absolutely cannot allow him to put himself in a position where he can accomplish feats like that again — but that also means he’s not going to have an excuse if he screws up and paints himself as a weirdo who should be avoided at best or a jerk who needs the shit kicked out of him at worst. Crusch is very much using a carrot-and-stick approach to try and train him up as a model citizen who won’t get himself in trouble quite so much — but she ends up using the carrot pretty rarely, and when she does he’s often not in a place where he can recognize that that’s what she’s doing.

Also, she’s straight up Not Around a lot of the time because she’s busy as both a Royal Candidate and one of the top leaders of the new Witch Cult Elimination Force. Otherwise…maybe her Divine Protection would clue her into what’s going on a little sooner than it does.

Reinhard: Subaru is now Reinhard’s little brother. Reinhard genuinely completely forgot to tell Subaru this.

Reinhard is now so insanely overprotective of Subaru because he just saw Subaru die…a LOT. And he was almost never there. He will NEVER not be there again, not if he has anything to say about it. And — and he’s going to be a good role model who can teach Subaru not to charge into dangerous situations, and to avoid assassins and mabeasts and archbishops, and to not do stupid stuff like leaping out of dragon carriages while they’re in motion —

Subaru thinks that Reinhard now sees him as a prisoner, or a future crook, or just some untrustworthy fuck who needs constant supervision. Every time Reinhard tries to do fun things like go out for lunch or visit the local gardens or play games in the courtyard, his overprotectiveness makes everything blow up in their faces and paints him as some sort of correctional officer — and Reinhard doesn’t have the emotional intelligence necessary to realize that he’s failing that hard in the first place.

[l0v3r666]

Mc inserts x TWST characters

(basically non-yuu pairings I think about instead of my inbox :p)

Ignyhide vice!Mc x Jamil Viper

Mc is probably twisted from one of the little demon goons, and it makes your contrast with Jamil charmingly obvious. You’re both vices in the basketball club with an outside connection to your wardens (you figured a physical activity’ll ward Idia’s eye away) and you both hate your jobs to a comedic degree. The connection is actually really sweet and subtle!! Atleast until book 6 when Mc is complaining about their ego trippy boss while basically eating out of Jamil’s hand, feeding him information like the layout and hierarchy of styx,, as Idia’s super exclusive assistant it’s only fair to give your guests a full tour!

“geez! And he just gets so flippy-floppy, yknow? He’s got this thing about energy drinks now so I’ve been diluting them, it’s such a pain!”

“It might just be a defect with housewardens. Have you ever heard of the incompetency theory?”

Card soldier!Mc x Malleus Draconia

okay picture this- Mc is comepletely wasted and coming off the high from a holiday party that was totally killer. You wander into the woods past campus and find yourself at a little abandoned cottage, it’s like 100% cozy enough to chill in before stumbling back to the dorms. You continue heading there for pregames/drunken shenanigans, meeting up with some hot guy that hangs around sometimes. You’re fully blindsided when your “little buddy” is kicking heartslabyul ass during a spelldrive tourney..

“Yoooooo, Mally, you must be really fun at parties. Want ta’ go with me?”

“I can’t say I’ve ever been invited to a “rager” before, but it sounds.. enjoyable. I accept.”

Ignyhide freshman!Mc x Deuce Spade

You’re a shaking mess during your first track meet. It’s a graduation requirement to take at least one gym class before the end of freshman year, and you’d rather die than take flight class with all those scary seniors!! Your vice had enough sense to convince you into not dropping out, he’d said that “track is low stress!” And “you’ll enjoy it” >:( you can’t believe he’d lie to your face like that!! (Is this the AI revolution??) You guess it’s not too bad though, you’ve even started strength training with a new friend. He’s a little short tempered, but it could be a lot worse.

“hey, I had no idea ignyhide kids were into track! I thought it’d be too much sun,,”

“We’re not vampires. I wouldn’t clown on you for the tea in your thermos, so lay off.. heh, there’s totally a dormouse in there.”

Scarabia housewarden!Mc x Leona Kingscholar

It’s pretty rare to see Leona of all people in your reserved pool chair, but plenty of weird stuff’s happened during your senior case study. You’re this close to getting your big shiny diploma- and a little rest now and then won’t hurt anybody! Savanaclaw’s housewarden has only had his position since last year, and you’ve held yours through all four. After knowing of each other for so long, it’s only logical that you’d become good friends! (Not that he calls you that)

“So you’re graduating, huh? Hope that brat you chose’ll fill your shoes, you’ve worked pretty hard.”

“awh, you’re such a sap,, I’m sure you’ll like Kalim, he’s no idiot. I promise to visit whenever you decide to graduate, but it’ll be a lot easier if i get that job in the castle!”

Octavinelle sophmore!Mc x Jack Howl

Poor Jack has to deal with everyone else’s business on top of his own education, when does he get a break? That ramshackle prefect’s looking for leads on how to beat those twins in the water, and only one face comes to mind. You’re his coworker at his temp job, and you owe him a favour (atleast from your perspective, he doesn’t hold it over your head) because with your grades Azul’s got it out for you. He’s begging for you to help him out- and who are you to deny those puppy eyes?

“Jack you can’t tell him! The housewarden’ll make me quit, I need this job! :(((“

“woah, it’s not like I’m gonna blackmail you.. what kind of guy do you think I am?”

Savanaclaw freshman!Mc x Epel Felmier

You’re lost, stressed and so confused in your first year :( it feels like everything is going wrong all the time!! It’s probably like 10x worse because you’re very tall and so built, but nobody cares to peer up at the cute giraffe ears on your head! You’ve been challenged by so. many. seniors. (and you win against all of them, you’re no pushover) but you’re tired of the beef. Epel just thinks you’re the coolest person in the room, and is always saying he wants to get freaky fridayed with you. But he doesn’t get the struggle!! Atleast Jack cares enough to tell him you’re just not liking it at school, and it makes Epel kick into action- he’s not letting you drop out, so please wait until he transfers!!

Pomefiore Junior!Mc x Rook Hunt

You’re convinced that Rook c. Hunt is the worst guy in all of twisted wonderland (C for creep)! And it SUCKS because he went from your rebellious savanaclaw boytoy to.. whatever he is. (How’d you miss the warning signs when you were tongueing him??) You can always see his stupid bob in your peripheral- but you’ve rationalized that if you watch him, then he only sees what you want him to see! It’s keeping your friends close and your enemies closer, just until graduation. And it does work, until you realize you’ve given Rook an inch that he’s turned into a mile. You’ll probably never get rid of him now, but what’s the point anymore?

“Ah, mon cher! You always enchant me with your passionate gaze, I’m honoured to be the object of your attention!”

“uh.. sure thing, hon. Whatever you say.”

Diasomnia Senior!Mc x Idia Shroud

You’re a highly educated noble from the mysterious land of Briar Valley. You are poised, weirdly formal, and utterly incompetent with your newest area of study- contemporary technology. You’ve tried to convince yourself that it’s pointless, they don’t even use it at home! But if you want to travel anytime before the collapse of human civilization, it must be done. you’re insatiable with your thirst for knowledge, and completely enamoured with having first hand experience with every era of mortal tech. It also happens to be almost impossible to revive your “Kno-Keya” once it has decided to die. That is where Idia Shroud comes in.

“In exchange for the revival of my electronic mailing device i am willing to offer an extensive dowry befitting of your station and technological necromancy skill. Will it suffice?”

“I literally only charged your phone, uh.. WOAH, A DOWRY?? I don’t have the space for five horses!! I’m totally not prepped for the marriage route, I haven’t the wiki yet!”

[emsroselover]

A Fan Edit

𝘏𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘯'𝘵 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦... 𝘈𝘯𝘺𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘢𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘚𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘰 𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘰𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢 𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘢 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘌𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺

𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: 𝙉𝙤𝙣𝙚 (𝙄 𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙪𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙙𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙞𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙮 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙡 𝙛𝙧𝙚𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙚𝙡𝙡 𝙢𝙚 𝙞𝙛 𝙞 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙖𝙙𝙙 𝙖𝙣𝙮)

It was a typical afternoon at the Sturniolo house. You have just returned from a long photo shoot, your makeup still fresh on and your hair styled perfectly, though your energy was starting to drip after hours on set. You had a few minutes before you needed to wind down, so you decided to pop in and say hello to Chris, Matt and, Nick

As you stepped through the front door, you heard the familiar hum of cameras and the sound of Chris's voice-low but excited, clearly in the middle of filming. You smiled to yourself as you took off your shoes and made your way down the hallway toward the living room.

The door was slightly ajar, and you could see the trio sitting in front of the camera. Matt was holding a microphone, Nick was fiddling with the equipment, and Chris was sitting comfortably in the middle of the couch, eyes focused on the screen in front of him. The title of the video they were filming flashed across the screen: "Reacting to Fan Edits."

You pushed the door open just as Chris looked up, his eyes lighting up at the sight of you. "Hey, babe!" he greeted you with a big grin, though he quickly tried to turn his attention back to the screen as Matt gave him a playful nudge.

"Did you just say 'Hey, babe' on camera?" Matt teased, his eyebrow raised as he looked at his twin. "You know Nick ain't editing that out, right?"

Chris rolled his eyes but chuckled. "Shut up, dude, I don't care."

You laughed and waved at them. "I didn't mean to interrupt. I just got back from my shoot," you explained, tossing your bag onto the couch beside Chris. "What are you guys filming today?"

Nick quickly responded, already looking back at the screen. "We're reacting to some fan edits. You know, the usual. It's actually pretty funny."

You nodded, settling onto the arm of the couch beside Chris. "Sounds fun. What's the first one?"

Chris leaned forward, and you could see the screen where a fan-made video was loading. He glanced at you and winked. "Oh, trust me, you'll love this one. It's a wild edit of my old video."

The video played, and your curiosity piqued as the fan edit began. It was a simple clip of Chris from a past video, where he said, "I'm always ready when you want me," his voice casual and unassuming. But the fan edit had taken it out of context, paired with dramatic music and flashy text, which gave the sentence an entirely different meaning.

The screen read, "Chris, always ready for anything." The music was intense, and the text blinked on screen like some kind of seductive ad, turning the innocent comment into something far more suggestive than Chris ever intended.

You couldn't help but burst into laughter, and Chris, seeing your reaction, immediately turned a deep shade of red. "Oh my god," he groaned, burying his face in his hands. "That was not the vibe I was going for!"

Matt snickered, his eyes glinting with

mischief. "Well, you didn't exactly help yourself there, Chris. I mean, it kind of sounds like you were asking for it."

Nick joined in, his laughter matching Matt's. "Yeah, man, I'm always ready when you want me? You're practically begging for that kind of edit."

You shook your head, still giggling at how the video had been so expertly altered. "I mean, to be fair, Chris," you said, looking at him with a teasing smile, "You weren't exactly wrong. You are always ready when I need you, aren't you?"

Chris turned to you, his cheeks flushed but his eyes twinkling with a mix of embarrassment and affection. "Oh, come on, Y/N. You're making this worse," he whined, though there was no real heat behind it.

You leaned closer, nudging him with your shoulder. "What? It's true! You're always there for me when I need you." You winked playfully, feeling a little mischievous yourself.

Chris shook his head in disbelief, his hand covering his face as he groaned dramatically. "I can't believe you're encouraging them," he muttered under his breath, though he was smiling despite himself. "I was just talking about being prepared for whatever, like… my videos, or whatever. But now look what's happening."

Matt laughed, reaching over and ruffling

Chris's hair. "You're never going to live this one down, bro."

Nick chimed in, "Yeah, the fans are going to have a field day with this one. I bet that edit is already trending."

Chris threw his hands up in mock surrender. "Alright, alright! I get it, okay? I messed up, and now I'll never live it down." He turned to you, his eyes softening. "But seriously, babe, you're always the one making me look good. So if they want to think I'm being all… that guy, whatever. You know me."

You smiled warmly, leaning in to plant a quick kiss on his cheek. "I'm just here for you, no matter how embarrassing the edits get," you teased.

The moment you kissed him, Matt and Nick groaned in unison, pretending to gag. "You two are gross," Matt said dramatically. "But I guess that's what we get for having a couple on our channel."

Chris rolled his eyes but couldn't hide the smile on his face. "Shut up, guys. It's cute. And I'm not taking it back."

As the video continued, you stayed by Chris's side, teasing him every chance you got.

Later that week that video was still blowing up with comments. They were full of laughing emojis and playful suggestions.

Sturn.Chris: “Omg, Chris is always ready 😏” Pedals.Sturn: Did anyone else catch that? Lmao 🤣” Y/n's.wife: “Y/N, you’re not wrong though. He is always ready for you.”

Chris could only shake his head. "I'm done. Y/N, I'm going to blame you for all this," he muttered, still grinning as he read more comments filled with more playful comments.

But he didn't mind. The truth was, no matter how embarrassing the edits got, he'd never be anything but himself with you-and that's exactly why he loved you.

[zillychu]

[snekdood]

I think in the whole convo around why its hard to make friends today really understimates how technology has essentially ripped peoples masks off to show how toxic they can become and how repelling and even scary it can be interacring with ppl bc of it. Bc of tiktok. Bc of ppl filming you secretly. Bc the "bullying is good, actually" people. Literally that video of that lady lying to her neighbor and then the neighbor confronted her and she gaslighted the neighbor like. You might laugh but deep down you know youd never hang out w that person on a deep level. You know that person would just be toxic. At this point being alone seems more appealing bc you dont have to risk all this weird bullshit. Its almost worth the touch starvation n all the other physical and mental bullshit that comes w loneliness n shit if every friend geoup is going to try to eventually moralize their hate of you and kick you out of a friend geoup for being too "cringe" and then put you on blast online and then all the commentors just laugh and dont think deeply about the situation bc theyre just there to laugh and are prolly just as fuckin toxic. Like we got a real issue here yall. Wtf is going on. Ppl in my generation are so fucking unlikeable.

[mr-ribbit]

not to keep harping on this but if you HATE shaving your body or any other part of your "beauty routine": stop doing it. just stop doing it, at least for a little while (maybe when you don't have a lot going on if that helps) and HONESTLY gauge how it makes you feel. is this feeling better or worse than the amount of time, stress, and money the routine takes? do YOU actually prefer how you looked before, or are you only worried about what others think? if you stopped doing the routine forever, could you find other ways to feel better about yourself with that energy?

when I was like 19 and the idea of not shaving my legs anymore first occurred to me (bc I had a Cool Progressive Boyfriend that Didn't Care) i just stopped and it was immediately like... a quantifiably large chunk of unnecessary anxiety just sloughed off my life forever. instantaneously I got rid a bunch of effort and stress I had been accepting as normal, and replaced it with more time to do what actually made me feel 'ready' in the morning, like hygiene, coffee, preparing for my activities etc.

and i DONT feel self conscious about body hair personally but even if I did, no amount of shame over hair could outweigh how much easier my life is. not just bc 'shaving annoying' or 'long showers' or whatever, but like. yeah I don't waste as much time getting ready anymore, and I also don't have to realize last minute before some leg-showing event that im unfit for display and have a whole self-esteem plummeting anxiety attack about whether I should rush it unsafely and risk being late, cut up, and stressed out before the event, or go With Hair and feel judged the whole time. i don't have to go through any of those emotions and when anyone does comment on my hair rudely, im in a much healthier place to deal with it and tell them to fuck off rather than validate THEIR fucked up standards by feeling bad.

once I realized I didn't give a shit and neither did anyone I cared about, it also gave me the freedom to cut out a bunch of other shit I was only doing (or Thinking I Should) bc it was what girls Have To Do to be presentable. fuck shaving fuck waxing fuck eyebrow shaping fuck concealer fuck multi step skincare fuck shapewear fuck lip fillers fuck contouring fuck teeth whitening fuck all of it, you do not need to change ANYTHING about how you look Every Single Day.

for those of you about to say "but I like being shaven/wearing makeup/literally pulling hair out of my face painfully every day etc etc etc":

have fun and mod your avatar all you want but for gods sake if you hate it and complain about how long it takes and all the stuff you "have" to buy or do just to "get ready" - you do not have to. you're not just having fun. you are not getting Ready, you are making your mood and experience worse for yourself, which is going to make you feel unready and unprepared for actually being yourself comfortably.

[smol-feralgremlin]

But at the same time, I felt uneasy at being thrust into an online community which I’d long considered kind of annoying: What’s really striking is the extent to which a disorder associated with garrulousness and substance abuse has been captured so utterly by nerds. To what neurodivergent urges would I now be subjected? Would I be tempted to start drawing pastel-colored webcomics about buying too many notebooks or set up a TikTok account with my boyfriend in which he is assigned the role of baffled but tolerant neurotypical and I am essentially a child? Would I start claiming that innocuous behaviors like “Googling stuff,” “using emojis,” “being able to concentrate sometimes but not always,” and “watching cartoons” arise directly from my newly confirmed condition? Would I begin to construct elaborate metaphors along the lines of “ADHD is basically like having a poltergeist that follows you around and moves your stuff” or “ADHD is having a werewolf that lives inside your brain: the secret is not trying to control the werewolf, but fully embracing that you are this creature”? I didn’t want to do any of those things, but I did start to consider what we are telling ourselves — and one another — about ADHD.

[byoldervine]

How To (Realistically) Make A Habit Of Writing

To clarify: Works with my autism. WORKS WITH MY AUTISM!!! I’ve been meeting my goals since I made them my New Year’s resolution! Anyway I’m so sick of all those ‘how to’ guides that don’t actually tell you what the process is they’re just like ‘just do it, but don’t burn yourself out, do what’s best for you!’ because you’re not telling me what I’m not supposed to be burning myself out over but okay, so I made my own. Hope this helps

1. Choose your fighter metric. What works better for you as a measurement of your progress; time spent writing or your word count? Personally I get very motivated and encouraged by seeing my word count go up and making a note of where it should be when I’m done, so I measure by that. At the same time, a lot of people are also very discouraged by their word count and it can negatively impact their motivation to write, and in that case you may be better off working from how much time you spend writing rather than where the word count is

2. Choose your starter Pokémon time frame. How often can you write before it starts to feel like a chore or a burden rather than something fun you look forward to? Many people believe that they have to write daily, but for some people this can do more harm than good. Maybe every two or three days? Weekly? Figure out what fits your schedule and go with it

3. Choose your funny third joke goal. Now that you’ve got your chosen time frame to complete your goal in, what’s a reasonable goal to aim to complete within that time frame based on the metric you chose? If your metric is your word count, how much can you reasonably and consistently write within your chosen time frame? If your metric is time spent writing, how much time can you reasonably and consistently spend writing within that time? Maybe 1000 words per week works, or maybe 10 minutes per day? The goal here is to find something that works for you and your own schedule without burning you out

4. Trial and error. Experiment with your new target and adapt it accordingly. Most people can’t consistently write 1667 words per day like you do in NaNoWriMo, so we want to avoid that and aim somewhere more reasonable. If you feel like it’s too much to do in such a short time frame, either give yourself less to do or more time to do it in. If you find yourself begrudgingly writing so often that it constantly feels more like a chore than something fun, maybe consider adapting things. And if you think that you gave yourself too much wiggle room and you could do more than this consistently, give yourself more of a challenge. Everything needs to suit you and your pace and needs

5. Run your own race. Don’t feel like you’re not accomplishing enough in comparison to others or not working fast enough to satisfy some arbitrary feeling of doubt. Everybody works at their own pace and slower work doesn’t mean worse work. You could be on one word per day and you’ll still see consistent results, which is still one word per day more than you could originally count on. All progress is progress, regardless of its speed

[caffeinewitchcraft]

WIBTA for going to my high school reunion even though the two witches I stripped of magic are going?

(Read for free on Patreon (X))

I (28 witch) was in a coven during high school. Not really even a coven. We weren’t recognized and there wasn’t a clear division of responsibilities. We did have a high priestess but she hadn’t Declared or been Initiated or whatever she believed. Looking back, her learning was all over the place (and a little problematic, honestly. I remember her calling a poppet a Voodoo doll before being called out by another member). Let’s call her Sarah.

Sarah was a year older than the rest of us (still the same grade though) and her mom was a witch so that made her the high priestess. She was the one who would organize all of our rituals and held the power of veto over any proposed spells. While you think that’d mean she’d provide the ingredients, she never did. She did tell us what to buy and, let me tell you, some of those things were expensive for a high schooler. We met in the park behind her house, and she demanded that at least one of us be in every one of her classes. If we weren’t, we’d be “cycled” out of the coven until our parents convinced the school to transfer us in.

Any alt kid knows what I’m talking about because they had a Sarah in their life. If she was angry, we had to be angry (and a little afraid of her). If she was sad, we were expected to ask why. If she was happy, we had to be even more happy. You get the picture.

The problem came when Sarah added Jess (fake name) to the Coven during the start of our junior year. It was the first time Sarah allowed someone else from a witch family to join. Jess was a transfer student from England. She told us all that that made her magic deeper and more powerful because she was a “daughter of the witches you could not burn.” When I pointed out that that statement is historically inaccurate, Jess called me a “pilgrim.” She tried to convince Sarah to blind me (take away my decision-making power in the coven), but I was the only one with reliable access to dried herbs (my mom’s a botanist and didn’t count her stores like Sarah’s mom did), so Sarah said no.

Jess’ dislike of me got worse when I actually did dress like a pilgrim for Halloween that year. And, if I’m honest, I did take it a little far. I was a hot-headed kid. I followed her around the entire day and had kids sign one of two petitions – “Burn” or “Not Burn.” When the Burn Petition won, I could tell I went too far (there were a LOT of signatures).  I tried to make it a joke and told her that now she really was a witch we couldn’t burn.

Jess and I got in our first physical fight. Sarah eventually broke it up, but not before Jess ripped out a good chunk of my hair, and I broke the tiger’s eye bracelet she wore.

 I later heard from another coven member that Jess tried to lay a curse on me that night. Unfortunately for her, I was pretty interested in defensive work and had a fresh witch’s jar buried under my window. Her curse got caught in it and rebounded. Apparently, that’s how Jess got pink eye, not from her younger sister.

We fought like cats and dogs. Any time Jess would talk about England, I’d make fun of her accent. When I brought up what spell I’d like to do, Jess would call me a juvenile pilgrim. Eventually, Jess got smart. She’d text me insults rather than say them to my face so that she’d have a chance to tattle to Sarah before I got the chance to hit back.

Sarah pulled me aside at least three times to “address” the fights. She basically said that I needed to respect Jess more because she came from a witch family, like her. She told me I could learn a lot from Jess if I stopped acting like a human. When I pointed out that we are humans, just humans who have elected to use magic, she got really mad.

And when Sarah got mad, she could make life really difficult.

My spell for luck on midterms got passed over for Jess’ jinx on our English teacher. The jinx worked and Ms. Edel tripped, but guess who still came to class with a broken leg? MS. EDEL. Guess who failed their midterm?

ALL SEVEN OF US.

Damn, I can’t believe I’m still upset by this petty high school drama. Therapy did not work.

So safe to say that Jess and I never became friends. I love magic now and loved it then, but she took it so seriously. I’ve always believed magic should be fun. All the spells she brought to the coven required a spirit element—blood, hair, sacrifice. One of the members was a strict green witch and had to drop out because of it. We missed two full moons until Sarah approved Eileen to rejoin after she woke up from her coma.

(And before anyone freaks out about the coma – we all ended up in comas here and there. We were a bunch of uneducated and untrained baby witches who all had different belief systems. The fact that there wasn’t anything worse than a coma is a miracle. She wasn’t traumatized by it any more than I was by mine.)

Jess and I mostly avoided each other for the rest of the year. We always voted against the other’s spell and I’m fairly certain she tried to trip jinx me in the hall as often as I tried to trip jinx her. Sarah never tried to diffuse the tension between us. She confided in Eileen that she was grateful we kept each other in check.

Things could have continued on that way until we all moved away for college (or repeated the year after failing all those midterms) if it weren’t for the vernal equinox. Or, as we inaccurately called it, the Spring Solstice.

The way it worked was that we all got to propose a ritual during equinoxes. They’re powerful magical events on their own and when you bring intent to the party? They were always our biggest, most successful workings.

Sarah always chose what we did on those days. She pretended like we got to vote, but we all knew she would never choose one of our rituals. My freshman year, she made us all do one for beauty. Because it was a “make real what is in the eye of the beholder” type, some of our transformations were a little…traumatizing. I’m only telling you this so you understand the power an equinox has, okay? I do not think this way anymore. Other members were just as extreme. Eileen went from a Wendy from Wendy’s to a Jessica Rabbit. And I…

Well.

I grew rabbit ears and teeth. That doesn’t make me a furry! Who Framed Roger Rabbit? was super influential on BOTH Eileen and me. I was a kid and didn’t understand my own concept of beauty. It took almost three months before I got the ears to go away entirely.

Suffice it to say, we were all excited and nervous for what ritual Sarah would pick, which is why it was a blow to find out that she had picked a ritual - Jess’ ritual.

A ritual for power.

I didn’t want to do it from day one, okay? My belief is that whatever magic comes to you naturally is what’s okay to take. I think if you rip magic up from the earth or the abyss, it’ll change you. Maybe even corrupt you or change your personality.

But I was a kid and didn’t know how to explain that. Jess and Sarah were both from witch families and they seemed to think it was okay. Even though I didn’t like Jess, I did see her as a more “authentic” witch because of that. I know better now, but as a kid seeing all of her grimoires, I gave her false authority.

Jess explained the ritual to us over the next month. She talked about how we were going to be “tested.” The ritual would pull our spiritual selves from our bodies, and depending on how long we chanted, we’d return to them with more or less magic than when we started. She said that everyone in her family did it when they turned 18.

It wasn’t until three days before the equinox that she told us what would happen if one of us were to be judged unworthy.

“Mostly nothing,” she said. I remember her exact words, how her black hair spun as she soared through the air on the swings. We stood in a half circle before her and Sarah as they swung higher and higher. An audience to their aerial court. She said, “Sometimes people lose some of their magic. When the ritual decides they don’t deserve it.”

Eileen asked, “When the ritual decides? It’s sentient?”

“There’s an overseer we’ll call on,” Sarah said. She’d been the only one allowed to read Jess’ grimoire. Her lip curled and she leaned forward so she could look down over Eileen like an avenging angel as she swung overhead. “An impartial entity.”

“I am not a deity witch,” I said. I had long ago committed that I would never call on a higher being in any ritual. Most of our spells had to be modified for me so that I could swear to the cardinal directions rather than to the Morrigan or Hecate. “You know that.”

“You’re not swearing to anyone,” Sarah said and rolled her eyes.

“Which means no one is swearing to us,” Eileen muttered under her breath. But I could tell she had given up by the slump of her shoulders.

“It’s only the unworthy who lose their magic,” Jess reassured. Her eyes flashed at me. “Scared you’re unworthy?”

Yes. I was scared. I know better now than to think lineage has any place in witchcraft. It’s about the magic, always just the magic. But months of hearing their rhetoric had worn at my self-esteem. It really felt like if I didn’t do the ritual, I was as good as admitting I wasn’t a witch. If I did do the ritual…

Well. Obviously, I did the ritual.

I was a hot-headed teen, okay? I felt challenged. I decided that I would wear extra protections. Tiger’s eye and quartz charged with intention. I picked out a silver locket my mother gave me, filled with belladonna. She told me it symbolized beauty and choice.

Now, here’s where I may be the asshole.

I can’t give you a play-by-play of the ritual. It was ten years ago, and calling on that much magic has a funny way of warping memory. But what I do remember is this:

We gathered in the park before sunrise. Seven of us in new colors – spring green, white, soft yellow and pink. Jess made us get rid of anything with a working on it – crystals, cards, and ladders. She collected them all in a linen bag and threw them into the woods. I couldn’t get away with my tiger’s eye or quartz, but she missed the pendant my mother gave me. It was a warm comfort against my chest as we began.

We lit the fire together, each of us frantically thumbing our lighter to make sure the sparks caught at the same time.

Jess brought the chalice. We all cut our palms and let seven drops fall into it. (No, we didn’t use a clean blade. My cut got infected as hell and it itches like a witch. I know better now!) She bade us drink, and we did.

“Now the magic will see us as equal,” Sarah said while Jess prepared the next step. She licked her lips as if savoring the blood. “It will only be our wills determining the outcome.”

Jess doused us with oil and herbs. It smelled sharp and uneasy. I had provided the herbs and knew all of them were either fresh or dried to perfection. But it was rancid. There was rot in the air, but I couldn’t place it then. I wrinkled my nose and took up the chanting with the others to distract myself from the smell.

If you’ve ever chanted before, you know the stages. First, you’re just talking. You say the words and they mean something, but you don’t feel them. Then your mouth gets tired. You start messing up the timing of the words. You stutter. You stumble. The words lose meaning. Most people stop there. They fall silent and sink into a shallow meditation with heads full of fog.

You’re only a witch if you can reach the next step. You keep saying the words. They become comfortable. You wear the words like clothes and feel your cadence curl through you like a companion. Your body goes on autopilot and your mind relaxes. The chant turns smooth as silk. Depending on the chant, you lose yourself to the sweetness of your coven singing. Sometimes, you sink into the earth with them. Other times, you ride the flow of the magic like waves.

This time, the words pulled us away from our bodies. Jess slowly introduced new words to our chant. Words of summoning.

We called upon the Overseer.

Pressure fell around me like a vice. I couldn’t breathe even as the ritual fell from my lips without breaking. Magic had, at that point, always given me control. This? This was a complete loss of it.

I felt myself compressing. Smaller and smaller in the face of the being that was rising in the middle of the flames. It was not an observer. The moment I “saw” it, its endless form writhing in the space between the smoke, I knew that. It was a judge and jury.

It was a spider.

We chanted. It grew. It pulled us from our bodies like spiderweb and spooled our essences onto its forelimbs. It was not what Jess described and, simultaneously, it was. We were being tested. Our psyches were being tested.

So long as we chanted, the being would be contained. However, the longer it was contained, the more of us it could take. If we let it go, what would it do? Would it return any part of our magic to us? Any part of who we were?

Or would it eat?

This wasn’t a test of magic. It was a test of faith. Faith in each other and faith in the ritual.

For those practitioners out there, you can see the problem. I didn’t enter the ritual with faith. My intent was flawed from the beginning. We’d had spells fail because of lack of belief. I had never been the person who didn’t believe.

Until then

My words wavered. The Overseer turned its eyes to me. I could see my magic like thread before it, shimmering against the backdrop of its maw.

Then another tremor. Eileen dropped a word. The Overseer split and looked at both of us. Someone else faltered. One of the coven – I couldn’t see them – fell and went silent.

The sky yawned overhead, empty and cold. The embers from the fire spun up into it and were lost. The Overseer rippled and I felt our coven shrink in the face of it.

I gasped around the chant and looked across the fire. The light licked Jess’ gleeful face. Her eyes hungered for my failure. I could see it. Through the connection of the Overseer, I could feel it.

Jess and Sarah changed the chant. To this day, I don’t remember if they taught it to the rest of us. There are so many parts of the ritual that I’ve left out or forgotten. But I remember them chanting different words. The circle grew discordant.

“I offer my magic so I may be unspun and woven anew,” they said. The words have imprinted themselves like bitters under my tongue. “I offer my magic so I may—”

Some of the other members tried to pick up the new chant. Their voices grew weaker and the Overseer’s limbs began to extend out towards each one of us.

I wouldn’t offer my magic to that thing. I wouldn’t be unspun.  Eileen was stuttering. I saw her fall to her knees. I was close behind.

I threw my necklace into the flames.

Belladonna. Beautiful and deadly. It has meant choice to many women and many of them have been from my own family. It's extreme and it’s final. An end that doesn’t always make room for a new beginning.

Pretty words that cover up what I meant when I threw it into the Overseer.

My intent was Death.

Entities never die. I’m sure the Overseer didn’t. It howled. The wind kicked up and brought the flames into a spiral ten feet tall. Its forelimbs shattered, and I reeled myself back together greedily.

Not all of us were safe from the Overseer’s desperate struggle against my death curse.

Sarah and Jess were alone in the third phase of the ritual. They had changed the chant. They had offered their magic and asked the entity to do with it what it will. They believed.

And because they believed, the Overseer took their magic with it.

I think it was the first coma Jess ever fell into. Her family certainly acted like it. They whisked her back to the East Coast before the end of the year. I heard from Eileen that she woke up shortly after I left for college.

Magicless.

Sarah too.

I fully own that I was responsible for the ritual failing. I panicked. I’ve gone through every excuse over the years. I didn’t know what the ritual really was. I was just a kid. I took magic too lightly. It was their fault for not letting us read the grimoire for ourselves. But, at the end of the day, the real reason the ritual failed was because I panicked and I let that panic break my belief.

I moved on to college and it felt like running away. I’ve never returned to my hometown. I’m happy with the life I’ve built. My magic summer camp gives me time to travel during the winter months, and I feel like I’m making a real difference in young witches’ lives.

Nowadays I teach young witches to never do a working without full intent. If they have doubts, they don’t do it. It’s a lesson I learned the hard way ten years ago. I tell them it can cost them more than their magic. It can cost them their lives.

Eileen is still back home and she says Sarah rarely comes out of her house. Sometimes she sees our former high priestess wandering the school grounds on nights of the full moon. I hear from other members of the coven that Jess’ family put out a bounty on me a few years ago. However, I never saw an assassin so I think that was just a rumor.

So, knowing that they’re still not over it, would I be the asshole for attending my high school reunion next month? I’ve been craving reconnection with my roots, but I’d be subjecting Sarah and Jess (though Jess marked Maybe on the RSVP) to my presence.

I know they must hold a grudge. If they were still witches, that would be a problem. I don’t think I’d be able to defend myself from one of their workings since I blame myself for what happened. But since they’re not, it’s not really a danger. That’s pretty asshole-ish, right? Ignoring their feelings because they don’t have the magic to back it up?

So WIBTA for attending my high school reunion even though the two girls I stripped of magic will be attending?

-----

Thanks for reading! It looks like I'll have quite a few updates for the anthology! I am still obsessed with this format and can't wait to share some of the updates over the next few weeks.

If you'd like to support me before the anthology, please consider supporting me on Patreon (X)! I post new stories every week and many of my patrons saw the above story a week early.

The current AITA story takes place in the same universe as our former Cryptid (X). About a poor, poor boy who is just proud to be a regional Nightmare. Why is everyone so mad at him?

See y'all next week!

[chuluoyi]

MARRIED ON PURPOSE

- gojo satoru x reader

"for one, i can show you incredible things!" jujutsu, madness, heaven, sin. the strongest sorcerer is sure to show you all of that during the whole duration of your six-month marriage contract.

genre/warnings: marriage of convenience, enemies to lovers, crack, fluff, slight satosugu angst/comfort, kamo!reader, very suggestive. gojo clan is portrayed as very traditional, meanwhile kamo clan is rather unpleasant here

note: the unholy amount of times i've edited this story *sigh* but okay i must drop it here or else i'm going to keep editing it and losing my mind. despite my misgivings and all, i really had fun writing this and i hope you enjoy it! wc. 5k !

a part of 1K MILESTONE EVENT

general masterlist

Some would say... marrying Gojo Satoru would be living the dream.

“Don't look that sour now, wife.”

“…sigh.”

A playful nudge at your side, a lighthearted voice— “You're going to make them question our veeery happy marriage, you know… We don't want that now, do we?”

But to you, it was more like nightmare dressed in a daydream.

It was peak comedy because why would you put marrying Gojo Satoru in your life plans? He was incorrigible, a child trapped in a man's body, and there was also the very fact that you hate him. His only redeeming trait was being born in the esteemed Gojo clan, and now held the title of the strongest.

You know you must have accumulated karma, but out of everything else, why must you end up in this predicament?

Hailing from the great clans of jujutsu society, both of you know well that marriage is the essence to make the clan greater. And when it involves the big three clans, its importance amplifies even further.

It was just that you two were too rebellious to follow it through, for one reason or another. Everyone knows Gojo Satoru was faithless to any woman, and you were not exactly thrilled with the idea of marriage as a whole.

He was the one who came to you, proposing this insane idea of a temporary marriage.

"Look at it this way," Satoru said with a wry grin, contrasting your puzzled frown on that fateful afternoon. "It's either me or Zen'in Naoya for you, isn't it? It's so clear which is the better man."

That was what grated you the most. You would be damned if you married the misogynist.

"What do you get from this arrangement, really?" you questioned begrudgingly.

His name would give you security, stop the harassment from your clan, and maybe even a better life, but you didn't quite get what he'd get from the offer he willingly extended to you.

Satoru flippantly shrugged. "Nah, you are not exactly my type, but you're still far better than the boring puppet my family have considered to be my wife."

"Who?"

"Don't remember her name. All she goes on about is that she'll be the good wife and mother of my child. Ew."

Seven hells. You scowled. Gojo Satoru and his penchant for chasing the thrill. Boring women would kill him before an actual curse would.

"And hey, for one," he shot you a smirk, visibly smug. "I can show you incredible things!"

"That's not the point! Gojo, do you even realize—" your voice rose, pulsating with righteous fury, "—how serious all of this is? My life, your life! We're going to be stuck—together!"

"Six months," he blurted, tilting his head slightly. His sunglasses slipped down just enough for you to catch a glimpse of his sparkling eyes. "It's enough time to work through our shits, and by then if you have enough, we're through."

At that time, it seemed feasible. Both of you tolerating each other to avoid a much worse match.

. . .

BACK TO PRESENT—barely a week ever since you were paraded around as his wife, now you and Satoru were stiffly poised in the studio in your formal garbs, capturing your official wedding photos.

At that time, it seemed feasible, but now, it felt like a chore, as you realized that conversing with him either spiked your blood pressure so much that you wouldn't even be surprised if you ended up with hypertension or completely sapped your energy that you were left exhausted.

"Come on, show a smiiile," Satoru said in a sing-song voice, gesturing toward the camera as it flashed for the pictures. You were beyond appalled, shooting a glare in his direction.

"I am smiling, Gojo."

"Liar. You're pouting, wifey~"

Sigh… this really is going to be one hella of a ride, huh?

MONTH ONE, and you found out that Gojo Satoru is apparently as mad as people made him out to be.

"You've got to be kidding me!" you fumed, right after he hauled you into one of the rooms in his grand, traditional estate. Your glare pierced through him, a blood vessel ready to burst. "We never agreed on ‘consummating’ the marriage!"

You wrote him a goddamn contract. And the three conditions of this chaotic marriage are: one, it would only last six months; two, no personal feelings involved; and three, nothing borderline disturbing.

And this, you concluded, was the height of what could be called as disturbing.

"We will not," Satoru replied with a hint of disdain, grimacing, as if the notion didn't sit well with him either. The audacity! "We're just going to make it as if we are—"

"And why?! Why should I do that?!"

"Why else? Because my old fart believes that we indeed haven't done so."

"Then it's your fault? For failing to convince him? Why turn it into my problem!"

"Because, dear wife," he drawled, his tone taunting on the final note. "Now we're on the same page, in case you have forgotten."

Great clans and their hollow expectations spare no one, not even Gojo Satoru. They place importance in the most banal things, such as the continuity of sacred bloodlines and such.

The only alternative wasn't appealing either. Should you be found out that you married only to divorce... sigh, you didn't even want to know how big of a scandal it would be. One thing was certain: your clan would chop you to shreds.

You really had no choice, huh?

"Five minutes," you warned, glaring at him. "Make it loud. Make it so that no one wouldn't question this anymore."

Oh and sure he would. As Satoru pulled that shit-eating grin, you were in for another ride. You waited out until several maids were nearby, left the wooden door ajar, and began the show—

His hands wrapped around your waist—the feeling was peculiar, but you ignored it—and you let him pull you near that open door. He snuggled his face on your neck—his hair tickling you in the process, but you ignored that peculiarity again—as he started making suggestive noises. "Mm, you're so pretty, darling."

You could hear those maids gasp in surprise. And to add the flavor, you faked a moan.

This is... kinda fun? A twisted part of you suddenly found satisfaction in fooling the maids. A smile tugged at your lips as you shoved him away, and Satoru eyed you in surprise and irritation.

"Husband, you're... insatiable," you worded languidly, and he immediately caught on your act, grinning. "Anyone can walk by, you know."

"Oh? But that's the point." Satoru's bright blue eyes twinkled with utter mischief, and even you couldn't deny the exhilarating rush. "I want them to know."

And suddenly you got this very brilliant idea. You swiftly moved past him and sent the books and trinkets on his desk flying to the floor, causing questionable noises.

"Oh my!" a girlish voice exclaimed.

"The master! And the lady!"

Satoru shook his head, thoroughly entertained. And you rolled your eyes. Those nosy maids would finally have enough now, and this charade would end—

"What's happening here?"

The old fart. Both you and Satoru grunted in unison. You really thought you would leave it up to the maids to spread the word, but then you were taken by surprise when he wrapped his hands around you and flung the door open, slamming you against it—and damn it hurt!—offering everyone a front-row seat to your charade.

The maids squealed. His grandfather raised a righteous, demanding eyebrow. You wanted to scream.

"Hey, gramps," he greeted jovially, breathless, his grip on you tightening and you felt heat radiating from his palm. "Ah, sorry, opened it by accident—the wife here is feisty, you see."

Your veins felt ready to burst. Was this a part of his plan all along? How would you show your face before your grandfather-in-law now that he had seen this... atrocity?!

"So, yeah, we'll resume our business!" Satoru, the idiot, said it as if it was the most normal thing in the world. "See ya!"

With that the door slammed shut, but oh no, it was not the end.

"Mmmph!?" you protested, unintentionally loud and eyes widening in alarm when Satoru muffled your mouth with his hand.

The rotten bastard! You found it nearly impossible to breathe, shooting daggers at him. "Mmmrgh! Mmmrrgh!"

"Oh... so that boy really does it huh," you heard the elder mutter in thoughtful manner from outside—and you were in disbelief at how trusting he was—before rounding the stunned maids and barked, "What are all you doing here? Go!"

You nearly sagged with relief when Satoru loosened his grip slightly, allowing you to breathe, as his meddlesome grandpa finally stalked away. Done. This horrible act was over! But wait, why did he still had his hand on your mouth?

"That went splendidly!" he snickered, appearing rather pleased with what had unfolded. "Now, if only we work together like this more often—"

This is… my life now, you lamented the reality. The feeling of his calloused hand on you made you feel things, honestly speaking, but another emotion—and impulse—currently overpowered that.

Seething with resentment, you fiercely chomped down on his hand hard, causing him to swear and pull his hand out of you.

"You—you devil! You bit me!"

"Serves you right!"

Okay, he was bad. He was insufferable. But to be frank, sometimes it wasn't all chaos.

And what's more, by MONTH TWO, you realized that being married to Gojo Satoru also comes with several perks.

"Miss, please, you're trespassing—"

You looked at the police with the haughtiest look you could muster, unamused. "Don't you know who I am?"

"No, but it shouldn't—"

"I'm that man's wife," you declared regally, motioning towards a certain tall shuttlecock a few meters away. "Is that not clear enough for you?"

For one, no one can look down on you anymore, because should they try, you have the power to raise your chin high and declare yourself as the wife of the infamous sorcerer. The very moment you did, that nosy police stopped yapping, and let you through.

The cursed boy, Yuta and his classmate had just been trapped inside a barrier a curse user pulled down, and you were assigned to look into this case by the headquarters. As much as it boggled you—because certainly, the strongest sorcerer was enough to investigate this—you still had to do your job.

“What is this?” you asked Satoru, who was observing something far beyond what your measly ordinary eyes could see. “What happened here?”

He turned to you, all with bandaged eyes. “Hmm? Oh, you’re here too?”

“Don't act surprised. Answer my question, Gojo.”

"You’re too uptight, wifey," Satoru's lips curved upwards playfully. He had taken to addressing you with pet names as of late, if anything, only to get a rise out of you. "Isn't it the time for you to start calling me by my given name?"

You let out a weary exhale, exasperated. "I'm serious, did you find anything? Who is behind this?"

"Nah, nothing for you to worry about," Satoru waved his hand dismissively, grinning. "More importantly! Let's head back and have dinner! My treat!"

You weren't that oblivious. You noticed things too.

"What do you want tonight? Sukiyaki? Sushi?" he hummed nonchalantly. "Or shabu-shabu?"

You gave him the stink eye. "Is that all you think about? Food?"

"As a responsible husband, it's my duty to feed my wife, no?"

"News flash: temporary wife."

"But still my wife, regardless. I overheard you earlier. Being Mrs. Gojo is convenient, yeah?"

You ignored how a part of your jolted at the emphasis he placed on that word, grunting. "Nah, it's meh."

Call it a feeling or hypothesis. It was similar to how he treated his students. He always said the dumbest things, but it actually served to make them feel at ease.

Then it occurred to you, could this be actually his attempt to change the subject?

"You can't cheat your way out of this." You shot him a pointed look. "You know something. Tell me."

"Hmmm? And what would I get in return?"

"Don't make this difficult. I'm on this assignment too!"

"Nah, if you call me by my name, I might consider it."

Hah. You should really read a parenting book one of these days. Taking on your husband was more or less the same as facing a kid.

"Satoru," you tested, the name rolling out of your lips far easier than you thought. Somehow, using his given name felt like some sort of a leap of faith.

He stopped right in his tracks, turning to you. His glossy lips quirked into a meaningful smile, and you felt funny.

"Wasn't that difficult, was it?" he winked, and you covered the strange heat creeping onto your face by rolling your eyes and huffed.

Needless to say, he still didn't tell you even a clue. You finally gave up, thinking that if he insisted on not disclosing it, then so be it. You trusted him on this, even as he turned your help away, and you hated admitting it, because, well…

You’d trust him with your life. He knows how to handle this better than anyone.

Being a a woman in Kamo clan is, in fact, not any better than in Zen'in—you're regarded more as a commodity than a human being.

"When will you bear the child of the bearer of Six Eyes?" in your father's eyes, you were but a tool to tie the Gojo at his hip, and your worth probably wasn't even twice of Noritoshi's. You had known he would ask this when he summoned you to Kamo ancestral home, and you weren't that naive—you had asked Satoru to join you too. But your father had insisted him to stay at the foyer, while he dragged you into his chamber.

Just because you had seen it coming didn’t mean you liked it. "Is that all? Do you really make me come here just to ask me that?"

And what came next was like a crack of thunder.

"How insolent!"

You shuddered, hating how his voice still had control over you. You wanted to stay deviant, but you couldn't keep yourself from shaking. You thought you would have to endure this shit just like you did before, until—

"Now, now... That's my wife you're talking to. I'd watch your words, if I were you."

You had never whipped your head so fast.

There stood Gojo Satoru, your husband, in all his glory. He was smiling but it was clear that he was displeased, evident from his cutting remark, and most notably, how he had unveiled his striking cerulean eyes for all to see. Truth to be told, you didn't expect him to barge in here at all.

"Gojo-sama," your father bowed his head, displaying utter respect towards him, contrasting the blatant disrespect he showed towards you just now. Satoru paid him no heed, as took big strides towards you and seized your arm, prompting you to rise to your feet.

"What is this? Why are you yelling at her?" His voice lacked its usual hint of amusement or teasing, sending a chill down your spine.

"Gojo-sama, I apologize for my tone towards my daughter earlier. I was just trying to educate—"

“My wife. She is my wife now, and it would do you better to remember that,” Satoru asserted firmly, putting emphasis in the way he addressed you, his gaze hardening. "She is an adult. There's nothing left for you to educate her." Pausing, he added, "And the way I saw it, you were just unnecessarily rude."

"Gojo-sama, there were just certain things in our clan that—"

"Please, don't call on us again," Satoru interjected decisively with a light yet firm voice. You could swear your heart was somersaulting at the sight of him staring down your natural enemy. "I'm sure you're aware, but your daughter bears my name now, and she will get the respect she is due. I will have a word with anyone who fails to treat her accordingly."

Somehow or another, Satoru whisked you away from that hellhole, your hand tightly clasped in his. Your relieved sigh didn't go unnoticed by him, as he looked back to you.

"Have you gone soft?" he teased, eyeing you with a playful snort. "Did you forget who your husband is? You've got nothing to fear. Not even him."

"Thank you," you murmured. Your heart was still pounding and your mind blanked, rendering you unable to engage in your usual banters.

His clear blue eyes widened a touch, blinking at your display of vulnerability, Then, he wore the most innocent expression, even sporting a silly smirk—the hardness from earlier gone. "I was really cool, huh? Totally made you swoon I bet."

And in MONTH THREE, you realized, as he laced his fingers with yours, as his laughter filled the air, as calmness swelled on your chest, and as you loudly snorted at his remark, that—

You felt warm, so warm, in fact, and maybe—

"Pfft, you wish."

—maybe... being with him isn't so bad after all.

MONTH FOUR, and you finally found out that it was Geto Suguru.

Everyone knew that your husband and the criminal used to be the best of friends. You saw them during your high school days, and heck, you used to think that Geto was the better man.

You could only imagine what he must feel.

. . .

When he got back to your shared house after the whole ordeal—after he ended his best friend with his own hands, Satoru honestly didn't expect that you would be waiting for him.

"You okay?" you asked him, brows furrowed in concern. It was probably one of the very few times you had displayed emotions other than contempt towards him.

It felt strange because he was used to your jabs, and he was not sure what sort of expression he should pull now, because truthfully, now he felt empty. Blank. All he comprehended was that he had killed Suguru, that he was gone, and that was something he must do.

It would be just like any other day if hadn't just committed a murder. On someone he held dear.

"Of course, who do you think I am?" Satoru swiftly replied, sounding smug—or at least tried to. "I'm the strongest. I’m unscat—"

"No, not that." You frowned, meeting his gaze squarely. "After everything."

Satoru struggled to choose how he should react, partly because most of his energy had gone after walking Yuta back and reassuring him earlier, and by default, the two of you should be hellbent on hating each other and wishing for this contract to end soon.

"Aww, are you worried about me?" he quipped with a touch of sarcasm just because he had to, to show you that it wasn't enough to ruffle him.

Because he is still the strongest, even when alone. Especially when he is alone.

You let out a sigh, looking away. "Can't I?"

"Whoa, that's sweet of—"

"Don't fool yourself," you stated in straight-laced manner, meeting his gaze with a composed expression. "You're not okay. You might be Gojo Satoru, but no one will be after doing what you just did."

You might be Gojo Satoru, but no one will be after doing what you just did.

Despite himself, his smile fell, and his chest burns. What is this? Were you sympathizing with him?

Does that mean that you don't see him as the entity... that was the strongest?

Before now, Satoru remembered you as the most uncooperative Kyoto girl he had ever met. Your first meeting in high school sealed your fate as the two of you could hardly get along. You didn't mince words, you didn't take shit from anyone else—heck, sometimes when he thought of you, what came up to mind was an impenetrable diamond.

Which was why he chose you. You were someone he could trust. You were pretty in the eyes and certainly wouldn't bore him either. His reasons were purely based on logic. And after four months with you, Satoru came to a conclusion that you indeed fulfilled all his expectations, if not more.

And he felt comfortable, or dare he say, secure even. He felt like he had gained a friend, who could see past his bravado and wouldn't judge him for it.

"You're..." you sighed, casting a sympathetic glance at him, your forehead slightly creased. At that moment, Satoru couldn't help but think you were incredibly endearing, fretting over him. "...an idiot."

"Heh." I really am, aren't I?

"I never knew him well..." you chose your words carefully, hesitant. "Did you try to convince him, before this?"

He barked a bitter laugh. "I did, we even made a scene in front of freaking KFC," he remarked with a scoff. "He didn't listen to me, until the very end."

You wanted to tell him “You have done everything you could” but the words faltered on your tongue. You couldn't bring yourself to say it when you saw the faint quiver of his lips, the slump of his shoulders—the very sight of a boy grieving the loss of his friend.

Your heart pricked too, somehow, seeing that expression on him. And you once again realized that your silly, exalted husband was just as human as anyone else who made him think he wasn’t.

"And you know what he said in the end?" Satoru's tone was flippant, as if asking the most normal thing around, but carried a trace of grief, evident in the slight drop in his tone if you squinted. "He said he didn't regret it, not even a bit."

"I'm sorry," was all you could manage.

Satoru's smile was lopsided. Now that he had finally accepted it, something inside him finally bleeds, and it freaking hurts. The pain gripped his chest like a swirling inferno.

But then, you boldly clasped his hand in yours, gently tracing soothing circles on its back.

"What?" he peered at you, feeling a ghost of a smile forming.

"Consider this emotional support."

And he chuckled softly. Despite the lingering ache, despite the gloom he was sure he would carry for the rest of his life, he felt the pain was more bearable with you by his side, somewhat.

How?

You blamed it on the alcohol, because it was MONTH FIVE and you were kissing Gojo Satoru, daringly.

"We shouldn't be doing this," you rasped between kisses, breathless, as your own sinful hands plucked the buttons off his shirt. The intoxication might have played a part, but the intense heat coursing through you made it hard to think straight.

Satoru crashed his lips against yours again, consumed by blind lust. "Yeah, we shouldn't," he replied in a rush. His breath was hot as he trailed his lips down your jaw and neck next, savoring the softness of your skin.

You two had attended a banquet for the elite, and you were unbelievably beautiful. Standing by his side as his wife, you drew admiring glances, with everyone marveling at what a remarkable couple you made. The Gojo heir who was born with the legendary Limitless and the Kamo heiress, as lovely as her clan's name was powerful.

His deft hands roamed the curves of your body, exploring every inch of you. The warmth of his hands tickled something inside you as you closed your eyes to sink into this very moment. Next you knew, his bare body was against yours and you were stripped out of your evening dress.

Lust flickered in his honored eyes, as he took in the sight of you in your undergarments.

"You're really pretty, you know," he whispered. The intensity with which his eyes scanned your form made you nearly squirm. "Shame we don't always get along."

"You're one to talk," you retorted, a hint of exasperation in your tone, as you willed all other thoughts away. Thoughts like what comes after this. Thoughts like—

Is it heaven or sin, if you feel both at once?

His thumb tenderly caressed your plush lips, a hint of a smirk on his beautiful face.

He has long been thinking about your body. He was but a man, after all. He just didn't expect that you wanted this too.

There was always this tension, only this time, neither of you could hold it back anymore. Perhaps it was impulse—hell, most certainly it is, but there was another thing, something more that even Gojo Satoru still didn't dare to say out loud.

"Eager, are we?" he taunted when you leaned in, yearning for the touch of his lips on yours again.

You huffed. “Shut up and kiss me.”

A rush of heat flooded your cheeks at the slip of those words. You were about to rectify it, taken aback by your own boldness, but then he drew you close, silencing any further protest with a gentle hush—

"Too late, sweetheart," his husky voice entered your ears, lips curling into the most wicked smile, and you were in a trance. And Satoru was once again convinced, that choosing you as his wife was the rightest thing there was.

If the two of you went with this, then there would be consequences. Things would become more complicated, harder to sort out.

But, he decided, as he captured your lips in another heated kiss, everything else can wait.

MONTH SIX, and you were dreading the day of your divorce.

You brought this upon yourself. Whenever you reminisced about that night, you wanted to smack yourself in the face and bang your head against the nearest wall.

This marriage has a time limit. And you were doing it out of convenience in the first place.

You weren't supposed to… goddammit—fall in love with him.

But what's done is done, there is no going back in time. Awkward exchanges and lingering stares had been gnawing at your insides these days, and you were sure Satoru too must have noticed them too. You two used to be more relaxed with each other, and he'd even flirt with you, but weeks ever since that night of drunken passion, you almost reverted back to your high school personas—ignoring each other.

This was tough. You didn't like this. And more than that, you were faced with a more pressuring matter...

Gojo Satoru, with everything he possessed, could have had any woman he wanted. This arrangement with you was temporary in the first place, soon he would forget you and flit to the next woman.

The thought made your heart ache, because you had involuntarily gave your heart away to him. Siiigh… What a predicament you put yourself into, huh?

With just a month left together, maybe you should just make the best of it.

. . .

If you thought that things were any better with Satoru, then you were sorely wrong because he too, was debating with himself often nowadays.

Days spent with you were fun and fulfilling. You irked expression somehow had made its mark in his heart. You were pretty, fit to be by his side publicly and preferably, behind the closed doors. With you, he didn't feel the need to carry this facade of being strong—he could be a clown tripping over his own trap and you would amuse him with your deadpan expression.

And ever since that night, he was constantly reminded by how soft your skin was against his. It almost drove him crazy now that he was deprived of it.

How was it the last month already? He wasn't ready to let you go yet.

When he got back home later after his class ended and found you in the dinner table setting the food, all he could muster was, "Hey. Haven't eaten?"

You whirled around to face him in surprise. "Oh... you're back. Just about to. Want to join me?"

Of course he would. And yet as the two of you sat down, it was so painfully awkward Satoru felt like he was dying inside.

Why couldn't he pull off a smart line or two? Where did his suaveness go? He was smoother than this, surely, with his colorful history. One night of passion was supposed to enhance the relationship, not to derail it. What happened to you both?

The salt was near his side when you reached to grab it and bumped into his hand. "Uh-oh."

Turning towards you, he found your spooked expression and your adorable eyes widening in surprise. "S-sorry..."

It was just freaking salt! Salt! Why on earth were you apologizing?!

Enough, he thought. This utter madness of being jumpy with each other. He'd start from his side.

Does he want you to keep being his wife even after all this ends? Yes.

Why? All reasons already listed above.

Does this mean he likes you? Apparently and supposedly, yes. Because if it isn't then he doesn't know what this funny feeling driving him mad is.

With that sorted out, then he only had one more thing to confirm. He put down his spoon and crossed his arms together. "Tell me the truth. Do you like living with me?"

His question obviously took you by surprise. "Huh? What brought this on?"

"Just give me an answer."

"You're so pushy," you grumbled, lips pursed, and he felt like you were finally back to your usual dynamics somewhat. Good.

"Sooo, the verdict? Do you enjoy being with me or not?"

Because to him, it was a resounding yes and more.

Ignoring the warmth that surged to your cheeks, you rolled your eyes. "Surprisingly, not bad, yeah," you admitted, mustering the courage to meet his gaze. "You're annoying, an idiot, a bit crazy—"

"Hey!"

"—but eventually you're still... manageable," you added, feeling your face truly start to sizzle. But covered it up by looking down and playing with your fingers as you still had more to go on. "What I want to say is... I'm glad that I agreed to this—with you—because I can’t imagine it with anyone else."

An unfamiliar tingling emotion rushed to his chest as his face too started to heat up, letting your words sink in. Is he blushing? Oh God. He sure is. And so did he feel hella giddy.

Then it’s sealed.

Suddenly he procured a piece of paper from his work uniform and showed it to you. You first saw his lazily scrawled signature before it dawned on you.

The contract. You almost forgot that you made him sign that looming piece of paper. You were almost dismayed, thinking that he would end this right then and there, but then—

“Well, then… I suppose we no longer need this.”

Riiip~

Your eyes nearly popped out of their sockets when Gojo Satoru tore out your contract right in front of your face, the most brilliant of his devilish grin adorned his handsome face, as he took off his blindfold to see you far clearly than ever. Heavens, you are cute, he thought.

“Soooo~ seems like you’re stuck with me from now on!”

You gaped, awestruck at the blatant meaning of it all, feeling how your heartbeat started to pick up the pace, when he pulled the rag out of your feet once more by tilting his head to the side, looking at you with a winning smile.

“Let’s start over! What did they say again? Ah, yeah. Here’s to the first day of our lives!”

[rafecameronsslut4ever]

CASUAL — lando norris (smut, angst, nsfw)

pairing; fem!reader x lando norris summary: whatever you and lando have, it's anything but 'casual'. warnings: smut 18+, a LOT of angst, mdni, fingering, oral (f receiving), (situationship?) a/n: i lowkey want chappell roan's casual to be inserted into my brain and OMG this one is too sad

part 2 - casual

"nah, nah. the two of us... it's complicated, y'know? just a casual thing, honestly."

the words echoed in your mind on the flight from london, replaying as the seatbelt sign dinged off.

casual.

the word had always carried a negative connotation, but hearing him say it made you feel so much worse. it made you feel insignificant, as if the months that had passed meant nothing to him, while it had meant so much more to you.

you were anything but casual.

all those nights, the mornings after, the kisses, the rendezvouses. they meant something, didn't they? you thought they did, at least.

the way he'd look at you when the lights dimmed and his voice would turn soft. the way he'd kiss you as if it was what he was made to do.

he knew every inch of you. every freckle, every curve. he knew you better than he knew the tracks he raced on.

but, then again, lando norris was never known for being reliable.

he was young and wild and carefree, a bachelor to be envied by all. a party boy, a flirt, a ladies' man. he was charming and he knew it.

he was good at making people believe that they were special.

everyone loved him. the oh-so charming lando norris. the young driver who had a bright future ahead of him. he was bound to get whatever he wanted, right?

the first night he touched you, the two of you had come to an agreement—no attachment. he made it clear that he didn't have time for anything serious, but that he would love to have fun with you.

you, of course, had agreed to that.

in the beginning it was nothing. 'accidentally' crashing into each other at parties, accompanying the other into hotel rooms, and then disappearing as soon as the sun rose.

but do these 'no attachments' things ever work? it wasn't even a complete month before the two of you became more and more involved and realised you weren't just having fun.

as you exited the airplane, your heart clenched at the thought. the two of you had never actually said anything, but it was there, hanging in the air, almost suffocating you.

the first time you realised it wasn't just fun, you were in the passenger seat of his mclaren. he was on his knees, big blue eyes staring into yours as he flicked his tongue in you. you were so close, you had been for a while. he could tell. his eyes were locked onto yours, a glint of smugness in them. and then, with the tip of his finger, he brought you over the edge.

after you both came, he had crawled into the driver's seat and smiled at you. his lips glistened, his chin damp, and his hair sticking up in places.

"you look beautiful." he said, a hand coming up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

"i think i like you." his voice was barely a whisper, and if you hadn't been staring right into his eyes you might've missed what he said.

"yeah, me too." your voice was breathless.

and that was the only time either of you'd ever said anything about it.

was it casual?

then, that one time when you had flown to his family home in the uk and met his parents. they'd welcomed you with open arms and treated you like one of their own, and lando's face had glowed with joy the whole time.

"i still can't believe that lando has such a pretty girlfriend." his mom had said to you, giggling as the two of you shared a bottle of wine.

"mom!" lando had whined from the other room. "can't you just shut up for once?"

"oh, hush! i'm just saying it as it is." she shrugged.

you had blushed furiously at her words, looking down at your feet as you took another sip of the expensive italian wine.

you had thought he would deny the 'girlfriend' title, or at least laugh it off, but he didn't. instead, he grinned like an idiot and you wondered if the wine had gone to his head.

"yeah, guess i got lucky." he'd muttered, and his mom had smiled, nodding knowingly.

when the day ended, you had fallen asleep curled up next to him, his body warmth enveloping you like a blanket.

now, your eyes stung as you walked through the airport, a million thoughts running through your mind.

you'd spent the rest of the week there and it was the best time you'd had in a while. he'd taken you on a day-trip to oxford, but the two of you ended up staying the night at some cottage. he'd held you closer, kissed you harder. you slept together as many times as you could.

fuck, you weren't just casual.

and the time the you woke up in each other's arms, his face buried in your hair, hands wrapped around your waist. he had asked you what your plans for the future were.

"get an apartment in monaco right next to yours so that i can stalk you everyday. binoculars and everything." you had joked.

"really? not gonna say you're going to marry me and have a billion kids and we're gonna grow old together?"

you'd looked up at him, eyebrows raised. and then the two of you had burst out laughing.

"what the fuck, lando. i'm not having a billion kids with you."

he just smirked in response.

or the time when the two of you vacationed in italy with his friends, and at the pier he had introduced you as his 'hotshot pr girl'.

"he's paying me a million dollars to pretend to be his girlfriend because he doesn't like being called a virgin."

"hey!" he'd laughed, nudging you.

"shut up, loser."

and then you'd pushed him into the water.

"i'm never talking to you again." he'd pouted.

"oh yeah, find someone else to have your billion kids with. my uterus will be happy."

or the countless times he would call you in the middle of the night and tell you about his new merch drop, and you'd whine about how it was 2 in the morning and you couldn't give a flying fuck.

and when you had just gotten off the phone with his sister, "flo is such a sweetheart, i love her."

"my sister talks to you more than she talks to me. you know she likes you better, right?" he'd mumbled, looking offended.

"what can i say, i'm such a charmer." you'd said in the most british accent you could muster, and he'd rolled his eyes and shoved your face away.

december came, and cisca invited you to celebrate christmas with them.

"if he doesn't ask you to be his girlfriend, promise me you'll tell him it's over." your best friend has said, looking at you sternly.

you had just sighed in response, shaking your head.

"i'm serious. you don't deserve someone like that. not if he doesn't think you're worth the commitment."

"you're right. i know. i'm just... i'm just scared. i like him so much. i don't know what to do."

the morning of christmas, you'd landed in london and gone straight to his place. he was all dressed up, and you'd almost cried at how gorgeous he looked.

"merry christmas, darling." he'd murmured, and you'd melted at his words. he welcomed you with a kiss, the way he always did.

the day was spent exchanging gifts with his family, watching christmas movies and cuddling under blankets.

his family adored you.

"i'm glad you're here." he said.

"where else would i be?"

"anywhere else."

you smiled at him, and he returned it with a cheshire cat one.

that night, the two of you had been invited to dinner with his parents, and halfway through the meal you'd excused yourself to go to the bathroom.

as you stood there washing your hands, you'd heard the door swing open, and the familiar figure appeared next to you, locking the door behind him.

"lando."

"yeah?"

"what are you doing?"

"i need to wash my hands." he'd shrugged.

you raised a brow at him, looking at him pointedly.

he shrugged again, taking a step towards you.

"you look too good in this dress, can't help it."

you rolled your eyes as he stepped closer to you, fingers about to grasp your waist before you told him to back off.

"what?"

"wash your hands first. didn't you come here to wash your hands? there's no way in hell i'm letting greasy salmon fingers touch me."

and then the two of you had laughed before his lips found yours lips. it felt so natural, the way your body reacted to his touch or the way your lips melted into his.

"lando, we shouldn't." you protested, neck arching as he pressed kisses everwhere.

"shut up." he grabbed your waist before pushing you against the counter, his lips crashing back into yours.

"what happened to your hands? i told you to wash them."

"fuck the hands."

"technically-"

"shut the fuck up." he groaned, dipping a finger between your thighs. "you're dripping. fucking hell."

pulling his fingers out, his knee pushed your thighs apart, spreading your legs apart.

you gasped, shifting your hands as you balanced yourself against the counter. his eyes locked in yours as his finger dragged across your core.

"fuck, baby, you're so pretty." he whispered, eyes digging into yours.

"lando, please."

"please what?" he asked as he slipped two fingers inside you.

your eyes squeezed shut, head leaning against the mirror behind you. "oh, fuck."

"i asked a question."

you were quick to answer, fisting his shirt as his fingers moved inside you. "please fuck me, oh my god."

he smirked before dropping to his knees, spreading your thighs and pressing his tongue onto your clit. you yelped at the sudden feeling of his mouth sucking at your clit; eyes rolling back.

his hands grabbed your legs, swinging them over his shoulder. hand sprawled over your stomach, pushing you back against the counter.

when his tongue curled into you, brushing that spot he never failed to miss, you couldn't help but let a loud moan escape you.

lando hushed you; tapping your thigh. “gotta be quiet baby,” lando said through heavy breaths before pushing his face back into you.

biting into your lip, your fingers ran through his curls, admiring the sight of his head moving between your thighs.

your moans filled the small bathroom, the sound like music to his ears.

"lando," your voice was shaky, breath hitching as he picked up the pace, his hands pushing your hips down.

he hummed in response, the vibration sending waves throughout your body.

"oh, god, lando. right there, right there. oh fuck."

and then your body was trembling, and you were gripping his hair, his tongue still moving.

you were seeing stars, vision going white as your legs quivered around his face.

"oh, god." you sighed, chest rising and falling as he pulled his fingers out, smirking up at you.

"c'mon baby, give me one more."

it wasn't casual.

now, walking through the terminal, dragging your suitcase behind you, the tears threatened to spill from your eyes.

maybe he said 'casual' just to tell his friends he was still a player. or maybe, he was referring to the fact that the two of you were just friends who hooked up sometimes.

but whatever he meant, it wasn't the truth.

both of you knew it.

casual wasn't the way he held you close during thunderstorms, wasn't the way he'd make sure coffee was the perfect temperature, wasn't the way he'd look at you as if the world stopped turning.

the way he'd stare into your eyes as the lights turned off, the way he'd press a kiss onto your temple, the way he'd say your name.

it wasn't casual.

[elix8r]

Prada Shoes and I Love Yous

PAIRING: heeseung x fem!reader 

GENRE: smut, angst, crack, (some?) fluff, college!au, exes to lovers!au, enemies to lovers!au, socialite/richkid!au

SUMMARY: Life as a socialite wasn’t all champagnes and designer labels, especially not with the turn your reputation took due to a simple misunderstanding. Now, you were being painted by everyone as a big fat cheater who shattered her sweet boyfriend’s heart—a narrative that couldn’t be further from the truth. In reality, it was him who had betrayed your trust. Frustrated and feeling deeply wronged, you returned to society and the new school year after a summer of cutting off contact with everyone and the drama. But just when you thought you were ready to face the world again, you were blindsided by something unexpected: the lingering effect Heeseung had on you. And who could blame you? Heeseung was way too hot for you to get over in just three short months and now, seeing him with the girl he once told you not to worry about all over him? Oh, it was on. 

You refused to be replaced, labeled as a crazy ex, or forgotten. No, you were going to make Lee Heeseung realize that you were the best motherfucking thing to had ever happened to him. 

WC: 21.4k

WARNINGS: some extent of emotionally cheating? (not actual cheating i swear it’s kinda unintentional), jake is a bestie and fwb hybrid (kinda flirty but it’s very much platonic i swear), so much miscommunication, profanity, drinking, drugs, physical altercation, mentions of puke, slut shaming, mentions of pregnancy (no one is actually pregnant), toxic relationship, roughdom!heeseung and sub!y/n, unprotected sex, oral (m recieving), rough sex, unprepped? sex (consensual), creampie, mirror sex, deepthroating, cowgirl, dick too big?, creampie, and i am so sorry but karina is a BITCH like it’s almost campy how villainess she comes off

AUTHOR'S NOTE: hope everyone has fun with this one!! had a lot of fun writing it like and i'd love to hear you guys' feedback! love you lots <3 ☺️

Fuck Lee Heeseung. Fuck Lee Heeseung. Fuck Lee Heeseung.

This was all you found yourself repeating in your mind like it was some mantra while you reapplied your lip gloss, making sure to take one last good look at yourself in the mirror before shutting it close once you felt the plane’s wheels coming to a stop. From the outside, you looked absolutely perfect as not a single hair could be found out of place; no one would’ve guessed that you had been on a plane for over 10 hours. But inside, you were a wreck as you felt your anxiety shooting up as your heart raced a million beats per minute.

“You need to loosen up, you look like you have a stick up your ass.” Jake was lazily scrolling on his phone while nursing a champagne in his hand, barely sparing a glance at you. He seemed to be in a much more relaxed state than you were.

You scoffed before sending him a glare. “You know, if anything, you should be the one panicking right now. Everyone’s going to be talking about how we came back together.”

“Good thing I don’t give a shit about what people say, right? Should’ve thought that through before inviting me,” Jake shrugged, finally lowering his phone to look at you. His nonchalant attitude was pissing you off. “Plus, this all just looks worse because Ryujin decided she wanted to spend one last week with whatever his name was.”

He wasn’t wrong. It hadn’t just been the two of you in Monaco for three months; Ryujin had also been very much present. However, she found herself a summer fling named Louis, and unlike you and Jake, she couldn’t find herself boarding your private jet without spending one last fiery week with her lover before saying goodbye for good and starting school again.

“Maybe we should have just stayed an extra week with her. It probably would have saved us from the shit show that I know we’re gonna be bombarded with the second we step off the plane.” You released a deep sigh before you started to gather your belongings around you.

Jake followed suit, grabbing his stuff and getting up from his seat. “Well, if we stayed back an extra week, then that would mean we’d have to deal with your mom’s wrath for missing her annual end-of-summer garden party that we promised we wouldn’t miss. You know how important it is for her, and to be honest, I’d rather face Heeseung’s wrath than your mom’s.”

He was right. This garden party of hers had been going on every year since even before you were born, and you’d be out of your mind to miss it. It was single-handedly the most important event every year for your family, and you couldn’t even begin to fathom how your mom would react to your absence.

You reached over and snatched the champagne glass out of his hand before you downed whatever was left in it in one gulp as you braced yourself, hoping the alcohol would give you the courage you needed to step off the plane. 

“Well, then I hope you’re prepared to take on Heeseung. Maybe he’ll be nice enough to spare your pretty face. God knows it’s the only thing you have going for you.”

Heeseung was going to fucking kill Jake Sim. 

When he woke up this morning, you were the last thing on his mind, something he seemed to have finally freed himself from. However, all the hard work he put into casting you away from his mind seemed to have been in vain, as now all he could think about was you and how you had returned after three months of radio silence with the guy you cheated on him with.

Livid didn’t even cover what he was feeling, and it was evident in the way he swung his club. Each hit seemed to be driven by a surge of pent-up frustration.

“What the hell, man? That’s the third time today you’ve been way off course. What’s going on?” Jay shot him an incredulous look as he tried to locate where the golf ball had landed.

Heeseung let out a frustrated groan as he ripped off his glove and shoved his driver back into his bag. “Y/N’s fucking back.”

That was all Jay needed to hear to understand what was going on with his friend. "Shit, I saw. I’m sorry dude, it’s fucked up."

Heeseung was in no mindset to be playing golf right now. All he wanted was to go back home and wallow miserably in his bed. Unfortunately, they were only on hole ten of eighteen, and judging by his performance today, Heeseung knew it was going to take awhile.

"Did you know?" Heeseung couldn't help but blurt out, his frustration evident in his voice as he watched Jay effortlessly swing a shot miles better than his own.

Confusion flickered across Jay's face as he turned to face his friend. "What do you mean?"

“Did you know that she was coming back with Jake?” Heeseung felt his jaw tense as he mentioned his ex-friend.

“I didn’t even know he was with her until today. Honestly, I thought he’d just fucked off somewhere and didn’t bother telling any of us, considering how things went down. You know me, I would’ve told you straight up if I had found out earlier.” Heeseung trusted Jay implicitly. He was as loyal as they came, but unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said for everyone in their friend group.

"Do you think Sunghoon knew?" Heeseung's question elicited an audible groan from Jay.

If anyone in their friend group knew how Jake spent his summer, it would undoubtedly be Sunghoon. However, Sunghoon was notoriously tight-lipped, especially when it came to sensitive matters. Since the breakup, the entire friend group had undergone an incredibly awkward shift. It seemed that everyone had more or less chosen a side, and allegiances were clear.

"You know he wouldn't tell us anything if he did. It's getting ridiculous. The other day, I saw Gaeul and him having brunch or something at the clubhouse, and the moment she spotted me, she practically sprinted over to explain herself. She claimed she's still 'Switzerland' in the whole situation and hasn't chosen a side," Jay recounted, frustration evident in his voice. 

Heeseung almost snorted at the absurdity of it all. Their friend group had never been one to keep secrets or tiptoe around each other, but the last few months had been nothing but that. The betrayal by you and Jake had not only affected Heeseung's relationship with you but had also tainted the dynamic of their entire friend group.

“Literally, what is there to be ‘Switzerland’ about? I mean, this whole thing isn’t even complicated. Everyone saw them go into the bathroom together and come out literally holding hands. Trust me, I know what she looks like after giving head, and that's literally what she looked like in that video Beomgyu sent. Plus, Karina literally heard them.” Heeseung angrily got into the golf cart as Jay fished the keys out to start driving.

“Okay, well, no offense, but in all honesty, Karina’s probably not the most reliable source, cause she’s in an extremely biased position, but I guess that’s beside the point.” Jay’s words seemed to instantly bring a frown upon Heeseung’s face.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Heeseung’s tone sharply switched up in an almost defensive manner.

Jay, feeling this shift, nervously cleared his throat as he stammered, trying his best not to offend his already sensitive friend regarding an even more fragile situation. “I mean, uh, well. You know…”

“What?” The grip he had on the seat of the golf cart seemed to get tighter as he waited for his friend to elaborate.

“Dude, you can't be serious? You know Karina’s been trying to ride your dick for the past, what, give or take ten years? I mean, we all know that she’s never had a good relationship with Y/N, and I’m pretty sure most of that resentment stemmed from the fact that you’ve always been head over heels for Y/N.” Jay slowly parked the cart and turned off the engine as he explained.

Still not understanding Jay’s point, Heeseung furrowed his brows, shooting his friend another annoyed look before getting out of the golf cart. “What are you trying to get at?”

“Jesus fucking Christ, you’re dense. I mean, the last couple of months before Y/N cheated on you was the closest you seemed to have gotten with Karina because of that final project that you guys had or whatever. I mean, you were with her more times than you were with your own girlfriend, and knowing Karina, she seems like she could be delusional enough to have maybe taken that as a sign that you were interested in her? I mean, this is all speculation, but I’m just letting you know what we all saw.”

Jay cautiously treaded this topic. Heeseung was his best friend since they were babies, and he would always be on his side, but Karina was never anyone’s favorite with her extremely polarizing personality. He had no allegiance towards her, not to mention that she wasn’t actually even in their friend group and always only ever found lingering around wherever Heeseung was, so it was much easier for Jay to actually see through her. In fact, it seemed that all of their friends could pretty much catch on to Karina’s end goal except Heeseung.

“So you think it’s my fault that Y/N cheated on me?” The air got tense as Heeseung snapped at Jay while snatching his 7-iron out of the bag. “Just because I spent some time doing a stupid fucking school project with Karina doesn’t mean it gives her reason to go and suck off one of my best friends.”

Jay shook his head even before Heeseung was done with his sentence. Heeseung seemed to not be getting the point. “Fuck no, dude, that’s not what I’m saying. Karina has an incentive: you. If she gets rid of Y/N, then it means you’re up for grabs. Of course, Karina didn’t force Y/N to get on her knees for Sim, but she was the first one to come running, telling us what happened even before Beomgyu sent that video.” Heeseung was trying hard to focus on trying to get his ball on the green as he geared up to swing while listening to Jay.

“So you don’t think she should’ve warned me of what she heard?” He swung precisely, but it seemed that this whole course, to be precise, wasn’t going easy on him. He’d be lucky to get even a double bogey on the par-4.

Jay slightly grimaced at Heeseung’s shot. “No, it’s not that,” he let out a sigh as he walked over to Heeseung. “Look, you’ve been my best friend for as long as I can remember, and I know the past few months have been fucking hard because of what Y/N put you through, and I just want you to be careful. Karina’s always been kind of a conniving, spoiled bitch who finds a way to get what she wants. Just because she’s been warming your bed every night since Y/N fell off the fucking Earth doesn’t mean she should be someone you start trusting.”

There was nothing he could say back to his friend’s words and it seemed that what Jay had said clung on deep to Heeseung's thoughts throughout the day, casting a lingering shadow and leaving a bitter aftertaste in his mind.

A small bead of sweat trickled down your back as the sun's relentless heat beat down on you. You took a small sip from your now lukewarm glass of champagne, its warmth doing little to refresh you. Today felt even hotter than previous years, and once again, you found yourself questioning why your mother insisted on hosting her most important event during the hottest month of the year.

Your cheeks were hurting from all the forced smiles you’d already given to family friends and important figures in your mother’s business circle. This garden party was always about promoting her upcoming collection and ensuring the continued support, financial and otherwise (not that she needed any more money), of both new and old acquaintances and partners. So, as always, it was no surprise that you were dressed head to toe in unveiled pieces from your mother’s upcoming collection. While no one could deny her incredible eye for fashion and the breathtaking quality of her creations, the white-tiered tulle dress with its plunging neckline felt entirely too inappropriate for a garden party and was getting on your last nerve. You stood out like a peacock—a testament to your mother’s outstanding handiwork—but you weren't a fan of the attention it drew.

“I need to get out of this fucking dress,” you muttered through gritted teeth, your annoyance palpable. 

Jake chuckled softly beside you. “I can think of a few ways to get you out of that.” 

You shot him a sharp look, clearly unimpressed by his insinuation. “Don’t say shit like that, especially around everyone. It’s not funny.”

“What? No one's around to hear, and even if they did, it wouldn’t matter. Everyone already thinks we’re fucking, and to be fair, they’re not that off.” He shrugged, a smirk playing on his lips. 

Without hesitation, you elbowed him hard in the ribs, your face growing even more pissed off. “That’s not funny, Jake. Seriously, shut up. It happened only a couple of times and that’s it. If anyone hears that, they’re actually going to think I cheated on Heeseung with you.” 

Your pretty face sported a cold, serious expression, leaving no doubt about how much this mattered to you.

“Honey, I told you, they already think you cheated on Heeseung with me, so this isn’t going to change anything. Besides, you know damn well it wasn’t just a couple of times,” Jake rolled his eyes at your dramatics.

“Yeah, well, the difference is that every time I slept with you was when I wasn’t dating him, so I didn’t actually cheat. You’re just making everything worse by making it seem like you’re confirming what they already assume.” Your irritation was through the roof, and the heat was doing nothing to quell your annoyance.

Before Jake could say anything else, your mother’s saccharine voice filled the space. For once, you were grateful for her impeccable timing. “Oh, darling, I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

The event’s dress code was always an all-white affair, but even then, your mother seemed to shine brighter than any of the guests. You were almost taken aback when you fully turned to face her. “Hey, Mom.”

You flashed her a tight smile, but she barely spared you a glance, her attention focused entirely on the figure next to you. Jake seemed to stiffen under your mother’s gaze. “Hello, Jake. You seem to be enjoying yourself,” she said, giving his attire a quick once-over and humming in approval. “You look quite nice. Brioni, I’m assuming?”

“Yes, as usual, the event is beautiful Mrs. L/N. You’ve definitely outdone yourself,” he nervously chuckled. Despite his attempts at flattery, your mother’s cold gaze remained fixed on him. “And you’re right, it is a custom piece from Brioni.”

“Unsurprising, seeing that your father is rarely seen in anything else. Perhaps you could enlighten him to broaden his wardrobe, and maybe we can see about getting you a custom piece of mine. I have no doubt the materials I use are incomparable to much of what’s in your wardrobe already. Though, I’m sure you already know that, since it seems much of your time these days is spent taking my beautiful pieces off my daughter.”

“Mom!” You gasped loudly, your eyes widening in disbelief at her bold statement. Your mother was never one to hold back her words, but this was beyond her usual antics. Next to you, Jake stiffened even more, nervously trying to regain his composure.

"Uh, Mrs. Y/LN, I can assure you that whatever you think is happening between me and your daughter is not actually true," Jake stammered, his voice strained with tension.

Your mother clicked her tongue in annoyance, obviously not buying his claims. "Well, the conversation I overheard the two of you having before I came seemed to say something different."

“Mom, can we not do this here?” You darted your eyes around, making sure that no one else was catching on to what was happening.

“Well, darling, I would usually never impose myself like this in your personal relationships, but it seems like the two of you have brought not only our families into this but now also my business as collateral just for the sake of some mindless fucking.”

You had never heard your mother speak with such scandalous vocabulary before. Seeing her like this was beyond unsettling and left you utterly speechless.  

“Ma’am, I assure you that the rumors about our infidelity are not true at all. It’s been a huge misunderstanding that—"

"Jake, I've always held you in high regard, ever since you were a baby raised alongside my daughter. You've grown into a very smart and handsome young man, one your parents should be proud of. Out of respect for your mother, who you know is one of my closest and longest friends, I've tried to overlook what's been happening over the past few months. However, overhearing the two of you brazenly talking about your sexcapades in public, especially during one of the most important events of my year, is something I simply cannot ignore. This has not only strained my relationship with one of my closest business partners, but it has also jeopardized our families' standing. If anyone else had overheard, I can’t even begin to think how much worse the already damaging rumors would become."

“Mom seriously can you stop this,” you were furious that she would decide to do this here of all places. “This is fucking ridiculous and you know damn well that none of those stupid rumors are true. We can talk about this later, please.”

"I believe I'm entitled to speak as I please, especially considering this is my event," she retorted sharply. "Your father and I were generous enough to allow you to spend your entire summer break away without expecting you to address this mess you've created for us. I had hoped for better judgment from you. Instead, you and Jake decided to further exacerbate this situation by turning this trip into some sort of romantic getaway. I sure hope you were at least being smart and careful. The only thing that would make this situation worse is if you were to become pregnant. Who knows, you might even be pregnant right now. It wouldn’t even surprise me seeing as though that seems to be the only thing the two of you were doing in Monaco.” 

Jake was a stuttering mess, his face flushed with embarrassment at the accusation. "Mrs. Y/LN, I swear that's not true," he managed to stammer out.

Before he could say anything else, your mother cut him off again. "I'm not so sure I can trust you on that. How can you be so sure that you didn't knock up my daughter?"

You were seething with anger at your mother's behavior, ready to intervene when suddenly a figure caught your eye. 

Heeseung's fist connected with Jake's jaw before you even had a chance to react. The punch caught Jake off guard, and as he tried to recover, Heeseung landed another swift blow to his face. 

"You got her pregnant?" Heeseung's voice was filled with anger as he launched himself at Jake, who was still reeling from the first two punches.

“What the fuck!” Jake groaned, struggling to fend off Heeseung's relentless assault.

Beside you, your mother was in a panic, shouting for security as everyone's attention turned to the commotion that erupted in front of you.

Before you could step in, Jay appeared out of nowhere, desperately trying to pull his friend away from their former friend.

"Heeseung, stop!" you screamed, rushing to Jay's aid.

But Heeseung was relentless, disregarding his surroundings entirely. All sense of decorum was abandoned as he straddled Jake, who was attempting to dodge Heeseung's blows while pushing him away.

From the other side, Sunghoon came running over to help pull Heeseung off of Jake. "Jesus Christ, Heeseung, get off him!"

After a couple of seconds of struggle, the three of you were finally able to pull Heeseung off of Jake, though he continued to struggle in attempts to break free. Security, called by your mother, arrived and joined in to help restrain the enraged boy.

Jake laid on the grass, his previously pristine custom white suit dirtied with splatters of blood and dirt from rolling around. Heeseung didn't look much better, his own suit now stained with blood, evidence of the fight. Despite being at a disadvantage, Jake had managed to land a few good punches, evidenced by the blood dripping from Heeseung’s nose. It was a chaotic scene, with whispers and murmurs from the other guests confirming their attention on the altercation. You could sense your mother's fury, even without seeing her directly.

"What the hell is this?" A gruff voice angrily interrogated.

Heeseung’s father had never been an easy person to be around, so you couldn’t even imagine how angry he currently was at his son’s behavior.

However, Heeseung seemed not to hear his father, his eyes staying trained on Jake, who was getting up with Sunghoon's help.

“Oh my, Liz, I am so sorry. I’m appalled; I genuinely am. I'm so embarrassed. I don’t know what came over him.” Heeseung’s mom quickly ran over to where your mother stood with fury and attempted to sincerely apologize.

“We are leaving.” Heeseung’s dad yanked his son from the security’s grip and started to drag him away, but not before also turning towards your mom with a stern look. “Yes, we apologize for our son’s behavior. We hope it didn’t ruin this beautiful event, and we will be excusing ourselves. Thank you for having us.”

You were still in shock with everything, and it seemed that everyone else was too, as no one moved and stood in silence, taking in everything that had happened. There was no way this just happened.

To say the last couple of days had been hell for you would be an understatement. Honestly, it felt even worse than the days following your breakup with Heeseung, when you could at least pack your bags and leave the country. But this time, with school starting in a week, that luxury would unfortunately not be granted to you a second time. Your parents were adamant that you face the mess head-on and frankly you found yourself wishing that you never returned from Monaco.

To make matters worse, Ryujin still wasn’t back. While she called every day, you still felt alone, especially since you hadn’t talked to Jake since your mom’s party. Rumors about your supposed pregnancy were rampant, further emphasizing your alleged infidelity, and you figured it was best to get some space from Jake until the rumors died down.

With nothing to do, you found yourself doing things you’d never normally do—like wandering down the chip aisle, looking for something to make you feel better about your situation.

“No, Ryujin, you don’t get it,” you huffed into the phone, frustration evident in your voice as you searched desperately for anything that sounded good. “I’ve gotten DMs from random people I’ve barely spoken to, asking if I’m actually pregnant and how far along I am. I’m so fucking sick of this.”

“Oh babe, I’m so sorry. This sucks so bad. It’s literally so fucking absurd and Heeseung was so stupid for this like I still can’t believe he did that.  Don’t worry though, I’ll be there soon so just hold on,” Ryujin sounded sincere as the sound of waves echoed in the background. You envied your friend, who was probably at the beach right now, getting a nice tan with her hot beau, and not miserably suffering in this stupid predicament like you were.

“Ugh, I can’t wait until you’re here. I’m like seriously going through it and I just hope it’ll die down once school starts, but I doubt it because—”

“Y/N?” 

You were abruptly cut off by a shrill voice. Even before you turned your head to face them, you knew exactly who it was and found yourself unable to hold back an exasperated groan. “Fuck, I’ll call you later, Ryujin.”

Karina had always been one of the most beautiful girls you knew, even from a young age and you couldn’t deny that she looked stunning now, even under the horrendously yellow dim lights of the grocery store. But, like always, she had a knack for bringing out a grimace on your face, which you sported as you turned to face her.

“Oh my God, no way! I thought it was you earlier but I was like, no way is The Y/N out shopping for groceries. But honestly, who else could it be? I mean, you’re unmistakable.” Karina held a shopping basket in one hand that barely had anything in it. She was dressed like she was about to attend a charity gala, a stark contrast to your Lululemon shorts and an old shirt from Heeseung’s closet.

“Hey, Karina,” was all you could let out before she animatedly started speaking again, not giving you a second to talk. 

"It's been so long! I mean, how long has it been since we last saw each other? You didn’t even say goodbye to any of us and just left but you look great, especially considering—oh, and congrats! Honestly, I was actually worried it would be awkward between us, but once I heard the news, all my worries disappeared. You and Jake seem so happy together, and you have no idea how thrilled I was when I heard that you guys are about to start a family. It’s so cute and I now know that there's no reason for me to worry about you getting mad about me and Heeseung. Although I was a little surprised your boyfriend attacked mine like that, but I’m sure it was just a misunderstanding.” 

Karina spoke without pausing, giving you no time to digest her words and she didn’t seem to notice your growing annoyance as she continued to babble with that smug look on her face.

“Wait hold on, you and Heeseung are dating?” There was no way you heard her right.

But it seemed that you did as she nodded with a bright smile on her face. “Yeah it’s still kind of new only a couple of months but it’s been amazing. I mean I’m sure you know just as well that he’s like literally the best.” Her voice slowly drowned out as you took everything in. A couple of months ago was literally when you left for Monaco so it meant that Heeseung didn’t waste any time to make Karina his girlfriend. 

“What the fuck, Karina?” You didn’t hold back, making sure she knew you were beyond enraged at this new revelation.

Her face held a surprised expression as you cut her off abruptly. “I’m sorry, but what do you mean?”

You rolled your eyes. You knew she understood exactly what you were talking about, and it infuriated you that she was pretending otherwise. You knew Karina too well; she was reveling in the fact that she currently had something you didn’t for the first time in her life.

“Drop the act, Karina. I don’t have time for this shit. We both know exactly what you’re trying to do, and it’s pathetic. You and your friends can call me a slut for supposedly cheating on Heeseung, but it’s rich coming from you when you and Heeseung literally did the same thing. Not to mention the fact that you two didn’t even wait a decent amount of time before getting together after he and I broke up. So honestly, I hope you’re both happy and sincerely, fuck you both.” 

You didn't bother to stick around to hear whatever else she had to say. As you turned and walked away, you felt your eyes welling up with tears. You thought you were over Heeseung, but clearly, that wasn’t the case. The revelation of his new relationship pulled at your heartstrings, making you wonder if you ever really mattered to him the way he did to you. Nothing hurt more than realizing that the two year-long relationship you cherished above all else might have been a joke to him.

“Ryujin, I really don’t think I’m up for going out,” you sighed, looking at yourself in the mirror. Ryujin, on the other side of the room, was finishing her makeup at the vanity.

“No way, I told you, you’re not staying holed up moping around because of Heeseung again. You already did that in Monaco, and I’m not letting you waste any more time on that asshole. You’re coming out with us, and you are going to have an amazing night.”

Ryujin had finally come back the day before, and while having her by your side made you feel better, you couldn’t stop thinking about your ex.

“I seriously doubt one night of drinking and partying will make Heeseung disappear from my thoughts,” you muttered, rolling your eyes. You knew Ryujin would end up dragging you out, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t complain the whole time.

“I think you’re underestimating the power of a good night out. Who knows, maybe you’ll find some hottie to get your mind off everything,” Ryujin shrugged while spritzing perfume. “Maybe you should go looking for Jake.”

You shook your head at her. “Jake’s not going to help.”

“Well actually, from what I remember I think Jake helped a good bit with speeding up the process of you getting over moping about Heeseung a couple of months ago so who’s to say that it won’t work this time?” 

“I am not sleeping with Jake again. That would literally make everything like so much worse. Everyone already thinks I’m pregnant with his kid. I don’t need more things to fuel that rumor.”

Ryujin wasn’t wrong about your summer situationship with Jake helping to distract you, but continuing it back here would only add fuel to the fire. Not to mention, your relationship with Jake was purely platonic with some sexual attraction. That was all it ever was even back in high school, and you had both talked at length about how neither of you saw a relationship beyond friendship. So even if you went to him looking for something more, Jake ultimately wouldn’t be able to give you what you wanted.

“Well then there’s other people! What about-” You cut her off abruptly.

You cut her off abruptly. “Ryujin, I know you’re just trying to help, and I really do appreciate it, but I just think sleeping with other people isn’t going to solve anything. I just want to lay low this semester and focus on school. I don’t want to be wrapped up in more drama.” Done with the conversation, you grabbed your purse, suddenly more eager to get to the party if it meant changing the subject.

“Ready to go?” you asked, and just like that, her eyes lit up and a wide, giddy smile spread across her face as she eagerly followed you out.

The Uber ride was short, and before you knew it, you had arrived. Hyunjin was known for throwing the best parties, and tonight was no exception. The massive manor, which you were all too familiar with, was already buzzing with more people than you imagined his parents would ever find acceptable.

“Hey, there you guys are!” Ryujin’s close friend Yujin, who you were also friendly with, excitedly ran over to greet you both. She had been studying abroad for 6 months and you hadn’t seen her since so you were even more elated to see her. 

“Hey, Yujin! It’s been a while! You and Sunoo looked like you were having the time of your lives in Italy.” You greeted her warmly, following her inside as she led you to where all the drinks were.

“Oh yeah, it was beyond amazing, but I’m sure nothing compares to Monaco. God, I haven’t been there in ages.” She poured out shots and passed them to you and Ryujin. Without hesitation, the three of you knocked them back, grimacing slightly at the aftertaste.

“Fuck, I already miss it. It took like an hour to say goodbye to Louis, and I was so upset for the first 30 minutes of the plane ride. But the good thing about summer flings is that after the goodbyes, there's nothing left to hold onto, so it’s easy to get over.” Ryujin poured another shot for both of you while Yujin reached for a can of Ranch Water.

“I literally thought they were going to try something serious since she was with him all summer. Half the time, I couldn’t even find her because she and Louis were off somewhere, but I guess he really was just a summer fling.” You nudged your friend as Yujin let out an amused giggle.

“I bet! Those pics on your most recent Insta post, man, they were hot. What about you, Y/N? Any European hotties catch your eye?” Yujin wiggled her brows, and you rolled your eyes while reaching behind her for a can of Ranch Water.

“More like an Australian hottie,” Ryujin teased, and you instantly elbowed her.

“Jesus Christ, Ryujin, seriously shut up.” You shot her an annoyed look.

Yujin, however, seemed to find amusement in Ryujin’s remark as she gave you a wide-eyed look while giggling. “No way, so it’s true then?”

“Fuck no. I mean yeah, we hooked up, but I swear to God I’m not pregnant.” You shook your head vehemently.

You saw Yujin open her mouth, but Ryujin beat her to it, grabbing your arm. “Don’t turn around.”

Your brows furrowed at her panicked actions, and you started to turn your head, but she quickly stopped you. “What? What happened?”

“Fuck, Heeseung’s here,” Yujin answered, her eyes darting around past your head. “He’s over there near the pool table. Don’t turn around.”

You stood still, heart racing, as you listened to your friends' directions. You saw Ryujin's expression shift from panic to a scowl.

“And he brought Karina. She’s stuck on him like a fucking leech,” Ryujin sneered. Even before the summer, Ryujin had always been Karina’s number one hater, so her reaction was no surprise.

Quickly, you decided it would be best to leave the area, and the girls seemed to think the same as the three of you started to move. But before you could take a step out of the kitchen, a booming voice caught your attention.

“Y/N!” Sunghoon’s voice echoed through the music, loud enough for everyone in the vicinity to hear. You stiffened as you realized your presence was now exposed to everyone.

“Fuck, it’s been a long time!” He approached with a massive smile and, before you could even respond, engulfed you in a tight hug. Behind him, you spotted Jake trailing close by, rolling his eyes at his friend.

"Hey, Sunghoon," you greeted him back, debating whether to reciprocate the hug he wasn't letting go of.

"Okay, buddy, that's enough," Jake intervened, yanking his friend back.

"Oh, princess, you got even prettier while you were away! If that's even possible, but damn, you look amazing," Sunghoon's red, dopey eyes hinted at his intoxicated state.

"He's crossed," Jake confirmed, as if reading your mind.

"Oh God, why did you let him do that again?" Ryujin scolded Jake, delivering a disapproving look along with a smack on his arm.

"What the fuck! I'm not his babysitter," Jake retorted, shooting Ryujin a pointed look.

"Well, he is your best friend," you shrugged.

"I'm totally fine, you guys worry too much," Sunghoon shot everyone a smile before reaching for the drink in your hand, which you quickly pulled away.

"Yeah, Sunghoon, maybe lay off the drinking and smoking for now. I think I still have the video from the last time you got crossed," Yujin remarked, raising a skeptical brow at his current state. The mention of the video drew snorts of amusement from everyone except Sunghoon.

Instead, Sunghoon's eyes widened at her words, shaking his head vigorously. "I swear that won’t happen tonight."

"Well, it might if you keep this up," Ryujin added, recalling the infamous incident the last time Sunghoon was in this state. It involved projectile vomiting on a girl followed by passing out on her, effectively ruining any chance he might have had with her.

"Whatever," Sunghoon rolled his eyes, turning away, but before he could even take a step, he turned right back around (unsteadily with Jake stepping in to steady him), and blurted out, "Heeseung's here."

You could hear Jake cursing under his breath at Sunghoon’s words, while Ryujin nodded.

"Yeah, we were trying to sneak out of the kitchen before they noticed us, and then you had to go and yell Y/N’s name," Ryujin added.

"Oh," Sunghoon sheepishly nodded. "My bad."

"Does he have to fucking bring her everywhere?" Jake muttered, casting another glance towards where Heeseung and Karina were.

"You know, I even heard Jay’s getting sick of her tagging along everywhere."

"Where’d you hear that?" You shot Sunghoon a suspicious look.

“Gaeul.”

"She still hangs out with them?" Ryujin scoffed, clearly annoyed.

"She claims to be the neutral party between us."

“So she’s still being a fucking dumbass?” Ryujin shot back, clearly unimpressed with their friend’s stance.

"Well, she still reports everything back to us, so it's not all bad," Jake tried to reason, but Ryujin wasn't buying it.

From next to you, Yujin chuckled. "Your friend group is so fucking messy, thank God I'm not involved. I'm going to find Hyunjin for some weed. Good luck sorting out your drama." She shot you a wink before briskly walking away before anyone could respond.

"Are we really that messy?" Sunghoon asked innocently, but before anyone could answer, he vomited everywhere.

You were cursing under your breath as you tried to wash the puke out of your shorts, fuming at Park Sunghoon. Thankfully, they were black, so staining wasn't an issue, but standing in your underwear in a house party bathroom, scrubbing your pants instead of enjoying the night, was infuriating. Even if you managed to clean them, you'd be stuck wearing damp pants for the rest of the night.

As you wrung out the fabric, desperate to dry them as much as possible, the bathroom door suddenly swung open.

“Oh! Sorry— Y/N?” Heeseung’s eyes widened in surprise when he realized not only that someone was already in the bathroom but that it was you.

In your haste to escape Sunghoon's vomit, you must have forgotten to lock the door. Naturally, Heeseung had to be the one to barge in.

The two of you stood there awkwardly, each taking in the other's appearance. It was technically your first real encounter since your return, discounting the brief moment at your mother's garden party before Heeseung was promptly escorted away by his parents.

He looked way too good, enough to stir butterflies in your stomach. It was unsettling how Heeseung could still have this effect on you after everything that had happened.

"Hey, Y/N," he greeted cautiously, breaking the silence. The tension in the room was palpable.

"Hey, Heeseung," you replied, unsure of how to navigate the awkwardness.

"Sunghoon was right," he blurted out abruptly, his words coming out in a rush before he could stop himself.

Your eyebrows knit together in confusion. "What?"

"I-I mean, he said... that you look even prettier now," Heeseung stumbled over his words, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "I mean, not that you weren't pretty before, but, um... yeah." 

Your cheeks warmed at his unexpected compliment. This wasn't how you had imagined your first conversation with him after coming back would go. 

"Uh, thanks."

A few more uncomfortable seconds ticked by before Heeseung finally seemed to notice your state. "Uh, what are you doing?"

You had completely forgotten about your current attire—just in your underwear, a lacy black thong that had driven Heeseung wild a few months ago.

"Oh, Sunghoon threw up on me after getting crossed," you explained, shaking your head in annoyance as you returned to wringing out your shorts.

"Again? Fuck, he really needs to learn not to do that. If he had a nickel for every time he puked on a pretty girl while he was crossed, he'd have two," Heeseung remarked, a hint of amusement in his voice. You couldn't help but let out a small laugh. There was no way you were actually laughing at your cheating ex’s jokes. 

Heeseung seemed to relax a bit upon hearing your giggles, joining in with a laugh of his own.

"Here, let me help. There's probably a dryer around here somewhere," he offered, finally deciding to step into the bathroom as he closed the door behind him. He bent down, rifling through a couple of cabinets until he found what he was looking for.

"Fuck, I don't know why I didn't think of that earlier," you muttered, taking the dryer from him and plugging it in before switching it on.

He reached over to hold your shorts for you while you dried them. After a few minutes, you turned off the dryer, confident your shorts were dry enough by now. "Thanks," you said, taking them from him.

As you looked up at him, you suddenly became aware of the closeness between the two of you. Your breath caught in your throat as your eyes locked with his.

Fuck he was hot.

You could feel the all-too-familiar warmth spreading throughout your body as the two of you held each other's gaze, neither daring to look away. Slowly, almost as if guided by muscle memory, you inched your faces closer until you could feel his breath on your lips, poised to kiss him. But a small voice in your head stopped you before you could fully lean in.

“Wait.” 

Heeseung instantly pulled back. "Fuck, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that."

"No, no it's not that. I can’t do that to Karina," you hurriedly explained, shaking your head. Tears threatened to spill over as the pain of Heeseung's past betrayal resurfaced. Despite any animosity toward Karina, you couldn't bring yourself to inflict that same hurt on anyone else.

"What?" Heeseung furrowed his brows, confusion etched across his face as he looked at you.

"Heeseung, you can't just fucking cheat on her after you cheated on me with her!" You shot him an incredulous look, unable to believe how close he had come to infidelity once again.

His head shook vehemently, confusion clouding his eyes. "What do you mean? If anything, you're the one who's cheating!"

"Jesus Christ, for the last fucking time, I'm not dating Jake!" You yelled in frustration.

“And I’m not dating Karina!”

The two of you stared at each other, mutual confusion now evident, leaving you both speechless.

“What?” 

"Yeah, I'm not dating her! And what do you mean you're not dating Jake?" Heeseung shot back, equally bewildered.

"I literally saw her a couple of days ago, and she told me the two of you had been dating for a couple of months," you said, watching Heeseung shake his head in disbelief.

"What the fuck! She's fucking lying, we are not dating, let alone have been dating. That fucking bitch, literally what the fuck," Heeseung was beyond pissed.

You scoffed, equally heated. "Karina was literally rubbing it in my face about how happy you two were. And for your information, I have never dated Jake."

"What the fuck, Y/N? I fucking punched him!" Heeseung felt like he was going insane. Everything he had believed for the past few months was suddenly a lie.

You rolled your eyes at his outburst. "Yeah, I fucking know. I was there, if you remember! He still has a fucking split lip because of you, and my mom's still beyond mad about it."

You had to be lying, Heeseung couldn’t believe your words. “There’s no fucking way.”

“Yeah you fucking dumbass, you beat him up for nothing.” 

“Wait, wait, wait no it’s still fucking justified! He was one of my best friends who went on and fucking slept with my girlfriend!” There was no way the two of you were actually having this conversation at a raging party after not seeing each other for three months.

"No, he didn't! Or at least not while we were dating, and I'm also not fucking pregnant!" Your voice echoed in the cramped bathroom. You were still intoxicated and could feel a headache coming on. 

"Fuck you! Literally, everyone saw you two that night," Heeseung retorted sharply, but before he could continue, it seemed he fully absorbed your words, his eyes narrowing in disbelief. "So you have been fucking Jake!"

"Yeah, but only after we broke up, not before! And you can't be acting all innocent when you've literally been with Karina!" You were annoyed by his accusatory tone. He was such a fucking hypocrite.

"Okay, but I didn't blatantly sleep with her at a party while we were still together like you did—"

You cut him off by smashing your lips against his, needing to silence him in any way possible. You couldn't stand another moment of arguing about this.

You could feel Heeseung freeze for a second, taken aback by your action, but he quickly recovered as you could feel his lips move against yours. 

There was nothing romantic about the kiss as the two of you hungrily pushed back against each other, fighting for dominance. Teeth clashed against each other as your tongues battled back and forth and you could barely breathe, but it seemed that neither of you considered stopping anytime soon. 

His hands quickly found themselves ripping your top off you as yours went straight down to undo his pants and push them down. You finally pulled away from the kiss to spit on your hand before going straight back into his lips. Not a second was spared to think about your actions as you didn’t hesitate to stick your hand down his underwear. He was already half-hard and you quickly wrapped your hand around his length, inciting a groan out of him. 

While one hand worked on pushing down his underwear the other worked on pumping him. Heeseung was in almost the same state as one of his hands was found groping at your boobs, playing with your nipple, while the other also attempted to pull your underwear down.

As soon as your thong reached mid-thigh, Heeseung quickly broke the kiss to turn you around and roughly push you down against the bathroom counter. You jolted at the cold counter pressing against your already sensitive nipples but Heeseung pushed down hard on your back so you couldn’t lift yourself up. You looked helpless in the mirror and without warning you felt his dick plunging deep inside of you.

You gasped at the intrusion. Sharp pain erupted within you as tears welled in your eyes and you could do nothing except tightly squeeze them shut while your hands desperately attempted to grab at anything to hold on to. Heeseung had started to fuck you without even giving you a second to adjust and your cries filled the bathroom. 

You hadn’t been fucked like this in so long and sure Jake was a freak in bed with a big dick but he had never considered fucking you before making sure you were prepped. No, this was Heeseung’s specialty. He fucking loved it and you couldn’t help but also find yourself loving the pain that came with his pleasure. 

“Fucking slut, look at yourself,” Heeseung growled in your ear before roughly grabbing your hair and pulling it back, forcing you to face yourself in the mirror. 

“Please, Heeseung,” you could barely moan out. 

His hand gripped your hip so tightly that he knew bruises from his fingers were sure to be left afterward and his eyes were crazed as he battered himself even harder against your cervix, giving you no respite.

“What? What else could you want, I’m already fucking you. Greedy whore.” You felt yourself clench tighter around him as you heard his words. You were almost there as you could feel the tight coil just about ready to snap.

“Oh fuck, Heeseung harder,” you screamed. 

Heeseung did just as you asked and as if it was possible, you felt him force himself even deeper inside you at a faster pace. You knew he was battering deep at your cervix, but you were too focused on chasing your orgasm that you couldn’t even care for the dull aching pain. His hand in your hair pushed your head against the mirror and you found yourself unable to stop yourself from drooling and fogging up the mirror. His animalistic grunts filled your ear and the grip in your hair got tighter. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You screamed out as the coil snapped and you felt yourself reaching your ultimate high. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you slumped against the mirror, having no strength to hold yourself up.

Heeseung was also close as you felt his cock twitch inside you and before you knew it, warm spurts of cum painted inside of you as you felt him thrust a couple of more times while he panted. He came so much that you could even feel some drip down the inside of your thighs.

“Fuck,” he breathed out as he slowly pulled out, watching his cum drip out of you and land on the bathroom floor. 

You were still slumped against the mirror, attempting to catch your breath and process what had just happened.

As your eyes connected with Heeseung’s through the mirror, a rush of emotions overwhelmed you. The weight of what the two of you had just done bore down on you, and shame began to smother you, making you feel like you were suffocating. You couldn't stay there with him a moment longer. Quickly, you dressed yourself, doing your best to ignore the aching pain between your legs. Heeseung looked confused by your sudden change, but before he could say anything, you were out the door, leaving him to dwell on the implications of your actions.

You honestly hadn’t been listening to anything Ryujin had been saying for the past couple of minutes as she rambled on. Instead, you stared at the piece of salmon on your plate, analyzing each line that ran through the fish. If you didn’t focus on this, your mind would start drifting back to what happened yesterday, and you'd rather shoot yourself in the foot than think about that.

“Hey, Y/N, are you even listening?” Ryujin raised her voice, trying to get your attention.

Snapping out of it, you finally took your eyes away from your dinner and looked up at her. “Oh, sorry, I got distracted.”

“Yeah, no shit. I’ve been talking to you, and you went catatonic or something. What is up with you?” She furrowed her brows at your unusual behavior.

“Nothing, I’m fine,” you quickly responded, but you knew the second she put her utensils down that she wasn’t buying it.

“Don’t fucking try to lie to me. I can see through your bullshit. What’s wrong?” Her gaze was intense, analyzing you as if there would be an external sign explaining your strange behavior.

You sighed, debating whether to tell her exactly what had happened. Deciding against it, you realized that if you opened that can of worms, things would get even messier. “Uhm, I don’t know, I guess I’m just still hungover.”

“You didn’t even drink that much yesterday, though,” she said, brows still furrowed. She had noticed you hadn’t come out of your room all day and had to literally drag you out just to get dinner with her.

“Are you sick? You don’t really look sick though.”

You shook your head, searching for anything to blame your odd behavior on. “Uhm, I just think I bruised my cervix, and it just hurts.”

Her eyes instantly widened, and you could see her holding back a grin. “Oh my fucking God, you slut. You had me thinking something actually bad had happened! When did you and Sim even run off to fuck?”

You sighed in relief, glad that she was distracted by the news you had just dropped on her. She didn’t notice the lingering look in your eyes that indicated there was actually something deeper driving you mad.

“Uh, quickie in the bathroom. I don’t know, you were probably too drunk to notice.”

She hummed while nodding. “Yeah, I’m not going to lie, I don’t really remember much after Sunghoon puked everywhere. But fuck, a bruised cervix from a quickie is insane. Oh, Yujin is going to love this.”

“Yeah, it’s a fucking bitch. I feel like I’m sitting on a knife or something,” you said. You weren’t lying about this part—you were sure Heeseung had actually bruised your cervix with how hard he fucked you last night—but you were fine letting her think you had slept with Jake instead.

“Oh, my poor baby. No wonder you’ve been in bed all day. Let’s just get this boxed up and head back to the apartment. Geez, I’m gonna have to have a talk with Jake later.” You flashed her a smile, nodding at her suggestion, glad that this not only got her off your back but also got you out of having to stay another thirty minutes at this restaurant.

Y/N (evil bitch) 👹: 

if anyone asks we fucked last night kk?

JAKEY 🤢🦮:

wtf

Y/N (evil bitch) 👹:

no questions pls 

JAKEY 🤢🦮: 

fuck that what’d u do 🤨

Y/N (evil bitch) 👹:

none of your business go back to playing               roblox with riki or something 🙄

JAKEY 🤢🦮: 

THAT WAS ONE TIME

JAKEY 🤢🦮: 

fuck you

JAKEY 🤢🦮:

tell me!!!!! you made it my business when you dragged my dick into whatever it is so i deserve to know 😤

Y/N (evil bitch) 👹:

i bruised my cervix

JAKEY 🤢🦮:

HUH

JAKEY 🤢🦮:

NO I’M NOT TAKING THE BLAME FOR THAT??

Y/N (evil bitch) 👹:

everyone’s gonna think you have a big dick

JAKEY 🤢🦮:

bet 🙂‍↕️ 

The rest of the weekend passed without Ryujin or anyone else probing into your life, and you couldn’t have been happier. There were so many moments where you debated whether or not you should reach out to Heeseung, but you quickly dismissed the idea. Besides, you had blocked him on everything, and you were sure he had done the same, so there would be no point in trying.

Distracted by thoughts of Heeseung, it had completely slipped from your mind that school was starting back on Monday. Last night (thanks to Ryujin of course), you hurriedly packed your school bag and made sure you had everything for the first day.

And while you usually enjoyed school, just from today, you already felt overwhelmed. It seemed that all your professors had decided to assign work and readings for the next class. You were already swamped with assignments, feeling the weight of the semester ahead.

“Okay, but don’t you think I at least deserve to know who you slept with?” Jake's voice cut through your thoughts as you walked through the library shelves, searching for a book your professor had assigned out of nowhere that wasn’t even mentioned in the syllabus. You had been barely listening to his yapping as most of your focus was on finding the book. 

“Ryujin won’t stop talking my ear off about how I broke you and how you couldn’t move all weekend. She thinks I’m an ass and won’t stop scolding me like I’m the one who did it! I’m a gentleman—I’d never bruise anyone’s cervix without permission,” Jake said with an exasperated tone, trailing behind you.

“I’m pretty sure gentlemen, at least the ones i know don’t beg on their knees for anal-”

He cut you off, his eyes widening. “Alright, alright! That was one time and I was drunk. Jesus, woman! And don’t act like you didn’t let me do it—you were perfectly fine with it. Either way, I still feel like I should know who the fella is.”

“Please don’t say fella, it’s such a turn-off.” You scrunched your face at his choice of vocabulary, shaking your head before turning back to search for your book.

“Okay, fine, whatever. I just want to know who I’m protecting from Ryujin’s annoying ass, and honestly, I think Sunghoon overheard her, so now we can assume the whole school knows.” It was well-known that once any news hit Sunghoon, it spread through the school like wildfire. He had a bit of a loose lip and an affinity for gossip, making him the school’s personal Deuxmoi, but with none of the anonymity (maybe Perez Hilton was a better comparison).

“I’m serious, Jake, you don’t want to know. Just leave it. You owe me anyway.” By now, you were growing increasingly irritated with Jake’s relentless probing and the fact that you still couldn’t find the damn book.

He shot you an incredulous look. “Owe you for what? Now you’re just making up debts that don’t even exist!”

“Anal,” you replied without missing a beat, already smiling, knowing his reaction.

“Oh my God, Y/N, fuck you literally! Geez, if someone had told me this was the price I had to pay for putting it in the ass once, I wouldn’t have even touched it with a ten-foot pole,” Jake exclaimed, and you couldn’t help but giggle. You loved to mess with Jake, especially because he was always so overly dramatic and had the best reactions.

“Seriously, Jake, you don’t want to know. You did your job, so thanks, but please stop bothering me about this.” You flashed him an exaggerated smile and patted him on the head.

Jake’s eyes widened, and he stopped in his tracks. “No fucking way.”

“What?” You didn’t like how he was staring at you.

“Please don’t tell me you slept with Heeseung.” The smile on your face instantly vanished as you froze at his words. How the fuck did he know?

“No fucking way. You just slept with the enemy? Are you kidding me? Do you see this?” He gestured dramatically at his face. “This is the aftermath of my survival from his wrath and proof that I fought valiantly for you. And you go ahead and sleep with him? Oh my God, and you made everyone think I fucked up your vagina when it was actually him? Holy shit, wait until Ryujin hears about this.” You quickly reached over and clamped your hand over his mouth, realizing how absurdly loud he was being in the library.

“Shut the fuck up, you’re practically screaming! And what the fuck are you even talking about? Of course, I would never sleep with Heeseung.” You did your best to mask your surprise, hoping he wouldn’t catch on.

Jake shook his head, scoffing in disbelief. “You’re such a shit liar. The only other time I remember your cervix getting bruised was when Heeseung fucked you on that yacht last Christmas. Remember how you had a hard time sitting straight at Christmas dinner?”

Fuck, he got you there.

You sighed and reluctantly nodded, closing your eyes in frustration. “Okay, fine. But please don’t tell Ryujin, Sunghoon, or anyone else. I already feel like shit about it, and my self-worth is in the gutter right now. I’ve been sick all weekend just thinking about it.”

“He didn’t force you or anything, right?” Jake's face shifted to one of genuine concern, his brows knitting together.

You shook your head. “No, of course not. It’s just that I regret it so much. I felt so gross afterward. It was just a really, really bad drunken mistake, and I don’t want to talk about it. Seriously, thanks for covering for me. You’re literally the best because I really don’t want anyone to find out. I just want to forget about it.”

Jake studied you for a moment, clearly understanding how much this was affecting you. He nodded, reaching out to give you a comforting hug, which you gratefully returned while you let out a sigh. “Yeah, don’t worry. I won’t say anything. Just let me know if he tries anything else or if you need anything.”

The hug was comforting, a small balm for the turmoil of the weekend. You were relieved he didn’t press further or make you feel worse about what happened. However, as you started to pull away, a familiar voice sliced through the air, bringing with it an overwhelming sense of déjà vu. Jake’s groan confirmed the arrival of the last person you wanted to see.

“In the library is kinky, but what can I expect from the two of you? Always so classy,” Karina’s smug tone cut through the air. You and Jake quickly broke from the hug, and you rolled your eyes as you faced her, already irritated by her presence.

“Are you stupid or like blind? Cause obviously if you weren’t then you’d be able to clearly see we were just hugging you fucking dumbass,” Jake snapped back, his tone sharp. Normally, you’d find his sass amusing, but Karina’s presence seemed to have sucked out any potential humor in the air.

“Jesus, Jake, you’re such an ass,” Karina snapped back at him before turning her attention to you. “Get your dog on a leash, would you? Maybe you should have been more careful about who you chose to have a kid with. The anger issues are seriously concerning with this one, not to mention the aggression. Heard about what happened over the weekend.”

“Karina literally shut the fuck up. You know damn well I’m not pregnant. It’s not even funny anymore; you’re just dragging it out. Just fucking mind your own business,” you snapped, your anger bubbling over. You could see Jake’s jaw clenched tight, his irritation matching your own.

“Well actually it kind of is my business 'cause Heeseung has been MIA all weekend, and I can’t help but wonder—since you’re such a slut—if you had something to do with it. The past few months since you two left were perfect, but the second you come back, everything seems to be fucked up. So tell me, what the hell happened at the party?” Karina’s sneer was almost unbearable, and you fought the urge to slap her.

“Maybe he finally realized what a fucking bitch you are.”Jake’s voice was laced with disdain. If Ryujin was Karina’s biggest hater, Jake wouldn’t be far behind her. Even as kids he hated even having to sit at the same table as her so his hostility towards her was all too familiar for you.

Karina ignored him as her glare remained fixed on you. Her pretty face now twisted into a deep frown and you knew she was pissed. It was a stark contrast to the fake friendliness she’d shown you just a week ago at the grocery store.

“I didn’t fucking do anything, and I don’t want anything to do with him, so fuck off. Seriously. Maybe Jake’s right—he finally realized how much of a clingy piece of shit you are,” you shot back, frustration evident in your voice. You should have known that Karina would notice Heeseung missing from her side for a good portion of Friday night.

Karina’s expression hardened as she took a step closer, unyielding. “You’re such a shit liar. What did you do?”

“This is bullshit. Let’s fucking go,” Jake said, grabbing your arm and pulling you away. Neither of you wanted to spend another second there.

“You know he said I did it better than you, right?” Karina’s taunt was intended to provoke, and it did just that. You froze, feeling her words hit hard despite knowing she was just trying to get under your skin.

“C’mon, let’s go. Don’t fucking listen to her,” Jake urged, tugging you along again. As much as you tried to ignore her, her words had a lingering effect, and you hated that they got under your skin.

You didn’t care that this was your last year in college; you were convinced that you needed to transfer anywhere far away from here. There was no way you could endure a whole year of torment from Heeseung and Karina. As if to cement this decision, today seemed determined to be the worst day of your life. The moment you arrived at your apartment, rage surged through you when you saw who was waiting for you in front of your door.

“I’m going to fucking call security,” you instantly snapped, pulling your phone out of your back pocket.

Heeseung’s eyes went wide as his hands reached out in front of him. “Wait, wait, wait! Please, Y/N.”

You stared up at him, his eyes pleading with you to hear him out. Those bambi eyes always got to you, and this time was no different. With a roll of your eyes, you slowly put your phone down. “Okay, but I swear to God, if you try anything—”

“I swear I won’t! I promise, I just really need to talk to you. I’ve tried texting you, but I think you blocked me,” Heeseung said, sheepishly scratching the back of his head.

“Fine,” you muttered before walking past him, opening your apartment door, and stepping inside. You left the door open, signaling that he could come in, but he seemed hesitant, staring at the open door.

“Are you coming in or not?”

He blinked a couple of times, surprised that you were allowing him into your apartment, but he quickly followed you in and closed the door behind him. He hadn’t been inside in so long that it felt almost surreal. Everything looked exactly the same, and he found himself realizing that he had kind of missed being here.

“Wow, nothing’s changed,” Heeseung remarked, his tone revealing his surprise, especially as he noticed the photo of the two of you still on top of the kitchen counter.

You followed his gaze and felt heat rise to your face. You didn’t really know why you hadn’t taken it down. “Uh, yeah, I mean, I also haven’t been here for like three months, so I didn’t really have time to change anything.”

Heeseung nodded, but as his eyes trailed back to you, he found himself staring, forgetting his words. You were as gorgeous as ever, but it seemed that the time away had only made him realize how even more beautiful you were. 

“So, what did you want to talk about?” The air between the two of you was awkward, just like at the party however, seeing him sober during the day gave you a much clearer look at him, and you wanted to fucking die. You hated that effect he had on you. 

“Oh, yeah, sorry, uh, I just wanted to check up on you. Friday was kind of intense, and you ran off before I could say anything, so I was worried. I’m sorry for being so rough with you. I shouldn’t have done that.” Heeseung had been beating himself up over how he had treated you, so much so that he hadn’t talked to anyone all weekend despite his phone blowing up with messages from his friends.

“It’s fine. It was something we both wanted, and if anything, it’s on me. I kissed you first, so I’m sorry for that.”

Heeseung shook his head. “No, don’t be sorry, seriously it’s okay, but uhm, I also just wanted to make sure you knew that I wasn’t lying when I said I wasn’t dating Karina. I swear I’m not.”

Your brows furrowed as you recalled the incident in the library a couple of hours ago. “Well, does Karina know that?”

“What?” 

"She confronted me and Jake at the library, demanding to know what I did for you to ghost her all weekend." Heeseung frowned slightly at Jake’s name, and his frown deepened as he listened to what Karina had done. "From what it looks like, she seems to believe that your relationship is much more than whatever you’re saying it is."

“What the fuck? I swear we’re not together. I—” He stopped himself and sighed, realizing that to make you understand he was telling the truth, he had to tell you everything. “Fuck, I— Uh, shit, we’ve just been kind of hooking up, but I swear that’s all.”

He looked almost embarrassed admitting the nature of his and Karina’s relationship, and you could feel a part of your heart waver at what you heard. For him to admit out loud to you and confirm what you had thought was happening hurt despite you knowing that you didn’t have a right as you two weren’t together anymore.

“Oh, uh, okay.” You nodded as you quickly turned around and opened the fridge. You pretended to look around as if you meant to open the fridge before reaching to get the Brita out for water. You knew that if you faced him, the tear welling up in your eyes would pour down your face.

Heeseung went into a near-panic as he saw your reaction. Having dated you for over two years and known you for your entire life, he could tell you were upset. He noticed your shoulders tensing as you kept your back to him, looking into the fridge.

“Wait, wait, but I swear it’s nothing more than that, and I promise whatever happened between Karina and me is over. I don’t have any feelings for her—I never did. She was just there after you left, and it just happened,” he rushed to explain. But his words only seemed to make you feel worse as he continued to ramble.

“Why are you telling me this? You think this is going to make me want to get back with you?” You shook your head in annoyance, grabbing a glass from a cabinet and filling it with water from the Brita.

“No! I’m not trying to convince you of anything,” he said, now genuinely panicked. This was not how he intended the conversation to go.

“You know what she said?” 

“Huh?”

“Karina, you know what she said?” He slowly shook his head, clearly confused by where you were going with this.

“She said that you told her she did it better than I ever did,” you snapped, your anger evident as you stared him down.

His eyes widened in shock, and he scoffed in disbelief. “What the fuck! I’ve never said anything like that to her or to anyone, and it’s not fucking true.”

“What? So she’s just lying to get under my skin?” You were fuming, frustration etched across your face. “Karina’s a fucking bitch, but even she wouldn’t just make something like that up. You must’ve hinted at something for her to believe it.”

“No, no, no, I swear I haven’t said or done anything remotely like what she’s claiming. She’s a fucking liar,” Heeseung's anger flared as he defended himself, clearly outraged at Karina’s audacity.

“Well, it still doesn’t change the fact that you ran straight to her bed the second I was out of the country—literally one fucking day after we broke up!” You huffed, clearly pissed.

“Ok well don’t fucking act like you didn’t do the exact same with Jake. What the hell, Y/N? It isn’t my fault we broke up! You literally slept with one of my best friends!” Heeseung's frustration boiled over, clearly bewildered that you were still trying to act like you had no role in ending the relationship.

“I’ve told you a million times that I didn’t cheat on you with Jake! What more do I have to say for you to believe me?” You were fed up with defending yourself on this issue.

Heeseung rolled his eyes, “Honestly, aren’t you tired of keeping all this up? Beomgyu’s video and Karina along with everyone else hearing about you two should be enough proof.”

“Oh my fucking God! Jake went into the bathroom with me to help because I was puking my guts out. I drank way too much that night because I was so upset after seeing my fucking boyfriend cuddling with some other bitch all night! You’re genuinely a complete moron if you think Beomgyu and Karina are reliable sources. Beomgyu’s been a fucking asshole to me since freshman year because he’s still bitter that I refused to sleep with him, and Karina has wanted to get with you for as long as I can remember. Seriously, I thought you had at least some common sense in you!” You were yelling so loudly that your throat was already starting to feel raw.

Heeseung shook his head in disbelief. He had no idea Beomgyu had even tried to make a move on you, and now that he thought about it, he realized there had always been tension between the two of you. While he knew about Karina’s crush on him, he hadn’t thought she’d actually go as far as to lie about this. “Okay, well people still heard you two together.”

“Fucking hell, Heeseung, it was a house party with a hundred people. You really think anyone could hear anything over the music? You know what, whatever—believe what you want. There’s no point in trying to convince you otherwise. I’ve been honest with you the whole time, and it’s been you who’s been unwilling to listen. You dumped me without even considering my side, even though you were the one neglecting me during that last month before we broke up, spending all your time with Karina. Honestly, even if you’re telling the truth about not sleeping with her before we broke up, it doesn’t change the fact that you emotionally cheated. The number of dates you forgot or canceled to be with her, and how many times I saw you two together on campus when you said you were just hanging out with the guys. Whatever. It doesn’t matter anymore. We’re not together. Just get out.”

Tears streamed down your face, and you didn’t bother wiping them away. You wanted Heeseung to see the pain he had caused you.

Heeseung was at a loss for words as he saw the pain etched across your face. It broke his heart and he couldn’t help but start to realize that maybe there was a chance you were telling the truth and that he might be to blame for everything. He felt his heart crumble. “Y/N…”

You sniffed and shook your head. “Get out, Heeseung. I never want to see you again.”

It had been a week since Heeseung had gone over to your apartment, and every day since, he had been determined to find a way to make it up to you. He knew what your last words to him were, but there was no way he was going to let you go that easily, especially now that he realized he was most likely the one in the wrong and that Karina was a fucking bitch. He had come to that solid conclusion five days prior when he finally decided it was time to confront her.

“Oh my God, what the fuck? Seriously, where have you been? What happened? You literally just disappeared,” Karina ran over to him once she saw him at the café he told her to meet him at.

Even looking at her face made Heeseung want to vomit. “I heard what you did.”

Karina frowned, not understanding what he was saying as she took a seat across from him. “What do you mean?”

“Y/N told me about what you did at the library.” Heeseung tried his best to keep his tone even, attempting to mask the rage he was feeling toward her.

Karina nervously laughed, trying to brush it off. So, he was with you while he ghosted her. “Oh yeah, I ran into her and Jake trying to get it on at the back of the library. Isn’t that fucking insane, like in public like that?”

Heeseung wasn’t in any mood to entertain her. He was already at a boiling point. “Cut the fucking bullshit. She also told me what you said to her at the grocery store. I don’t know what I did to make you think that we’re dating, but we’re not. I don’t even remotely like you.”

“What?” Karina was taken aback by his words. Sure, Heeseung was never as affectionate and loving towards her as he was with you, but she thought she had made good progress in getting him to fall for her.

“Yeah, so I swear to God if I hear you telling anyone else that we’re dating, I will get a fucking restraining order. You have been nothing more than an easy lay for me to get my mind off Y/N this whole time. I let you hang around me because I felt bad, but that’s over now, especially since I realized you’ve been lying to everyone, including me, about everything.”

Karina’s face paled as she took in his words. She opened her mouth to say something, but he didn’t give her a chance. “Also, you’re delusional if you think you’re even comparable to Y/N, much less better than her. Go learn how to actually suck a dick before going around telling anyone that. Seriously, fuck off, and don’t ever talk to me or my friends again.”

Heeseung took off right after that, leaving Karina sitting alone at the table. It felt like a weight had been lifted off his chest as he stormed out of the cafe. Since then, he’d been planning a way to get you to hear him out. The only thing he could come up with was outsourcing, and in this case, that meant trying to reach you through the people you hung around.

It was a no-brainer that trying to talk to Ryujin and actually getting her to hear him out would be harder than getting you to talk to him again, so that was out of the question, which left him with only one other choice. 

Just standing in front of the apartment was making him pissed, but he knew this was probably his best bet. He let out a big sigh before knocking loudly. He waited a couple of seconds, and after a bit, he wondered if he should knock again, but before he could, the door opened.

“What the fuck?” 

Heeseung was the last person Jake would have expected to be on the other side of the door, and it caught him severely off guard.

Heeseung hadn’t seen Jake since he beat him at your mother’s garden party, and while it seemed that any previous marks left on his face from the fight were gone, Heeseung still felt bad. Okay, well, actually he didn’t feel that bad because he was still beyond pissed at Jake. Heeseung had by now come to the conclusion that you were most likely telling the truth about not cheating on him, but it still didn’t change the fact that Jake had fucked you who knows how many times after the two of you broke up.

Jake had always been a very close friend of his since childhood, and if Heeseung was being honest, in high school there were a good number of times when he couldn’t help but find himself envying his friend. It was kind of always known in your friend group that Heeseung had always had a tiny bit of a crush on you. So, when it became known that Jake had been the one to take your virginity, Heeseung was beyond crushed. In fact, he had avoided Jake for a good week, too envious of the fact that it wasn’t him who had been your first. But he was quickly able to get (mostly) over it as he couldn’t deny that he wasn’t surprised; you and Jake had always been the closest. But now, knowing that Jake had broken bro code made that resentment resurface, and he wasn’t sure if it was going away anytime soon (if ever).

“I need to talk to you,” Heeseung reluctantly said. 

“Fuck no,” Jake responded with a condescending laugh, shaking his head in disbelief.

Heeseung’s jaw tightened as he pleaded, “Jake, please.”

Jake stared him down, scrutinizing every aspect of him, clearly enjoying Heeseung's desperation. “Why? Y/N told me what happened on Monday. You’re a fucking asshole.”

“You don’t think I don’t know that? That’s why I’m here. Just let me in,” Heeseung said, his patience wearing thin.

“What’s in it for me?” Jake crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. Heeseung could tell he was relishing the sight of him getting so desperate.

“You already got to fuck my girlfriend as many times as you wanted. Don’t you think that’s enough?” Heeseung gritted his teeth, his voice tight with anger.

Jake rolled his eyes but opened the door, letting Heeseung in. “You know she’s not your girlfriend anymore, right?”

If Heeseung wasn’t so determined to win you back, he would have had no issue punching Jake in the face again. But he needed Jake’s help, so he held back and tried his best it ignore him.

“I need your help,” Heeseung said, crossing his arms and facing Jake.

Jake barely glanced at him as he headed to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of what Heeseung assumed was a protein shake. He started to shake it, more focused on his drink, acting almost as if Heeseung wasn’t even there. “You’re funny if you think I’m going to help you with anything.”

Heeseung sighed once again, watching Jake’s dismissive attitude. God, Jake was such a dick. “I know I fucked up.”

“Yeah? Took you long enough to realize.” 

“I need help getting her back.” Jake let out a derisive snort that he didn’t even bother to hide.

“Holy shit, you’re delusional. What makes you think I’d help you?” Jake’s laughter was infuriating, and Heeseung started to regret coming here.

“Jake, I know what I did. I know there’s nothing that can fully make up for it, but I need Y/N back. I’m begging you, man, I need your help.” Heeseung’s pride was at rock bottom, but he didn’t care. If this was what he had to let go of to win back the love of his life, so be it.

“You literally cheated on her. Why the fuck would I help someone who cheated on her try to win her back? You don’t deserve her.” Heeseung couldn’t deny it anymore; he had emotionally cheated on you, whether he intended to or not and it sickened him to realize that he was responsible for your pain.

“I know I don’t deserve her, and I also realize what I did and how I’m responsible for everything. I know now that the last month before we broke up was terrible for her, and I was a complete asshole. I didn’t mean to hurt her; everything just spiraled so quickly that I didn’t have time to process it. I swear I’m not trying to make excuses—there aren’t any. But the last three months have been hell for me. You don’t understand how empty I’ve felt, how much it’s all hurt. Hearing that you two came back together from wherever you guys were fucked me up so badly that I ended up taking it out on you, and I’m sorry for that—it was fucked up. But what I’m trying to say is that this whole summer has made me realize just how much I need her. Seeing her again has only made that clearer. I should have listened to her that night, but I was so blinded by anger about you two that I lost control, and you have no idea how much I fucking regret it. Talking to her last week made me see just how badly I fucked up, and I guess I was too caught up in Karina’s lies to accept the truth. I know I don’t deserve her, but please, I just need one last chance to make things right.” Heeseung’s sincerity was evident in every word, and Jake could tell that this was something Heeseung had been tormenting himself over for a while.

“I don’t know what you want me to do,” Jake said honestly. “I don’t even know how I can help. This is between you two.”

He hadn’t expected Heeseung to lay everything out so openly, and he was a bit taken aback. But Jake still struggled to fully support Heeseung. He knew how miserable and broken you had been after the breakup, and he wasn’t sure he could let you go through something like that again.

“I just need her to know that I’m sorry and to hear me out just once more. I know I don’t deserve it, but please. This was all I thought about this entire week, and I don’t know what else to do. I mean I came all the way over here to you of all people because of how desperate I am. I know you don’t owe me anything, especially after everything, but please, I’m begging you. Help me out, man.” Heeseung’s eyes were filled with desperation, and Jake let out a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“Is Karina still in the picture?” 

“Fuck no, and I made sure she understood. She’s literally the worst mistake I ever made, and I should’ve known better. I just didn’t think she’d take it this far, but I swear, there was nothing between us to begin with. She just caught me at a vulnerable time and took advantage of it. I fully acknowledge the mess I made in the month leading up to Y/N and me breaking up, and I know it’s probably too late now, but please, Jake. Y/N is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You of all people should know that, so I can’t just let this go without trying one more time.” 

Heeseung couldn’t even lift his head to face Jake anymore, his eyes focused on his trembling fingers. The shame of his actions weighed heavily on him, and admitting it all out loud took a lot out of him.

A few seconds of silence passed, and Heeseung assumed Jake was deliberating. With each passing second, his anxiety spiked, and he desperately wished Jake would say something, anything.

“Fuck, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but okay,” Jake said, his tone heavy with disbelief. Heeseung’s head snapped up, his eyes wide with shock. “There’s no guarantee this will even work, but I’ll try something. Just know that I’m not taking this lightly. If you mess it up again, I’ll fucking kill you. I’m not kidding. The moment I see Karina anywhere near you, you’re dead. I’m only doing this because I know how much you meant to her and how miserable she’s been without you.”

Heeseung’s smile stretched so wide it made his cheeks hurt, but he didn’t care. “Thank you so much. Seriously, thank you, man. I really owe you.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Jake said, rolling his eyes at how excited Heeseung was. “But if Y/N isn’t having it, there’s literally nothing else I can do. So don’t get your hopes up.”

“No, I get it. Seriously, thank you so much. And I’m genuinely sorry for everything. It was fucked up for me to fight you like that.” Heeseung wasn’t sure if things with their friend group would ever return to normal, but he’d be lying if he denied that he missed having his friends around. A small bit of him kind of hoped this might be a step in the right direction of maybe getting everything back to normal.

“Yeah, whatever. I guess I kind of deserved it for sleeping with your girl,” Jake said with a hint of sarcasm.

Okay, maybe Heeseung wasn’t entirely fine with Jake being around like before as he felt one of his eyes twitch in irritation at the reminder of Jake being in your bed all summer, but he pushed the thought aside. “Just don’t make it a habit.”

“We’ll see. Don’t fuck it up.”

Heeseung felt another twitch in his eye. Maybe he wasn’t entirely over the idea of killing Jake Sim.

You had been sort of in a weird state of limbo where it seemed that a part of you was still wallowing in the sadness that came after the whole fight with Heeseung in your apartment but also there was also a part of you that was just kind of irritated with everything and you weren’t sure how to get yourself free from this state.

And it seemed the latter was taking over your current state as you let out a grunt of frustration as you attempted to hit the ball over the net, only for it to get caught and cause you to lose. Shouts of amusement came from across the court as you sneered in annoyance.

“Ha! Dinner’s on you! Oh, princess you fucking suck at this.” Jake was a little too happy about your loss as he giggled around the court. 

Sweat drenched the both of you as the setting sun’s heat blazed relentlessly down the two of you. “You know that I’m usually good! You’re just better today I guess.” 

You sheepishly shrugged before chugging your water from your water bottle on the side, the cold liquid instantly quenching your thirst. You were so ready to leave and get food.

“You just got unlucky that Sunghoon wasn’t here. There’s no doubt he’d be buying dinner. I’ve never seen someone worse at pickleball than he is.” You both let out a small laugh thinking about your mutual friend and his lack of athleticism. 

"Yeah, honestly, I know he said he was sick or something, but I bet he just said that to dodge paying for dinner," you muttered, tossing your keys at Jake after packing up your paddle and balls. "You're driving, though."

He caught the keys without protest, shrugging as he followed you to the car. After unlocking it, he slid into the driver’s seat, immediately grimacing. “Jesus, what the fuck is this seat positioning?”

“Leave me alone, it’s my car,” you rolled your eyes, watching as he adjusted the seat to his liking.

“Too nice of a car for such a shitty driver like you,” he snorted, making you gasp in offense.

But before you could fire anything back, he quickly switched the subject. "So, who's Ryujin going on a date with tonight?"

"Some new European exchange student, I think his name’s Armand? Not sure, but I’m pretty sure he’s French."

"Where the hell is she finding all these European guys?" Jake shook his head. 

Pickleball was usually a doubles match with you, Jake, Sunghoon, and Ryujin, but Sunghoon had bailed, claiming he was sick (though you weren’t convinced), and Ryujin was off on her date.

"I think he's in her finance class—or at least that’s what Yujin said. But yeah, she clearly has a type," you snorted, sending Ryujin a quick text to see how the date was going.

"That’s an understatement. I’m surprised she got over Louis that fast. And how the hell does Yujin still know everything about everyone despite being abroad for a whole semester?"

The circle you and your family had always been surrounded by was small, a natural outcome of the exclusive lifestyle the upper echelon of society led—one not easily accessible to just anyone. This circle was even tighter at your school, where everyone with status seemed to gravitate. As soon as someone new entered the fold, it took only a few days for word to spread, and soon enough, everyone knew everything about them, especially if they came from a similarly privileged background. So it was no surprise that even after studying abroad in Italy for 6 months, Yujin still managed to stay in the loop.

“You know you don’t actually have to be on campus to keep up with everything,” you sighed, rolling your eyes. 

It was frustrating, sometimes even invasive, to know that every move you made was watched and analyzed, but it seemed to be the price you and your friends paid for the lives you led.

Jake hummed in agreement, and for a few moments, the car was uncharacteristically quiet. It was unusual—Jake was never one to keep his mouth shut, so his silence could only mean one thing.

"Ugh, what?" you groaned, turning your phone off and shifting your focus to his profile.

Jake shot you a brief look of confusion before turning his attention back to the road. "What?"

"Just spit it out." You knew all too well that when Jake went quiet, it meant he was holding back something important—and more often than not, it wasn’t good news.

He gave you another glance, this one doing nothing to ease the knot forming in your stomach, before letting out a long sigh. "So, the other day, someone came to see me."

You raised an eyebrow, sensing that he was trying to drag this out. It couldn’t be good. "Oh my God, just tell me already. Who was it?"

Jake took a few more seconds before finally answering. “Heeseung.”

Your ex’s name was the last thing you expected to hear. “What?”

“Yeah, someone knocked, and when I opened the door, there he was, just standing there.” Jake’s slow pace was driving you insane—you just wanted him to get to the point.

“Just tell me what he wanted. Did he try to fight you again? Because I swear to God—”

“No! No, it wasn’t anything like that. He didn’t come to start anything; he just asked for a favor.” Jake nervously bit his lip, his fingers drumming against the steering wheel. He clearly didn’t want to tell you what Heeseung was really after.

“Jake, just get to the fucking point. What did he ask for?” 

“Okay fine, he wanted me to talk to you about maybe hearing him out again.” Jake grimaced as he revealed Heeseung's request, sensing that the silence on your end was not a good sign. “Ugh, please Y/N, say something.”

You didn’t know if you should be fuming or surprised. Maybe both. “What did you say?”

Your calm tone caught Jake off guard as he turned into the Thai restaurant you’d chosen for dinner, parking before facing you. “Okay, you can’t be mad, but I agreed.”

Your mouth opened in protest, anger filling your eyes, but he rushed on before you could interrupt. “Just listen. You know me—I wouldn’t agree to something like this, especially with him, unless I really thought he deserved it. After I listened to him, I could see how genuine he was. I know he was a dick on Monday, but he came to me desperate and genuinely sorry. He wouldn’t have approached me of all people if he wasn’t serious.I know how much he hurt you, but I also see how unhappy you are without him. This might not be the worst thing for you two. Plus, Karina’s definitely out of the picture—Heeseung looked furious talking about her and promised he wouldn’t associate with her again.”

You processed everything slowly, staring at Jake. “He hurt me so bad,” was all you could manage as you shook your head, struggling to accept what your best friend was telling you.

Jake’s eyes softened at your reaction. “I know, Y/N. He’s still a total asshole, but deep down, you know that not having him around hurts even more. I didn’t promise him anything, and I won’t ever force you to talk to him. Honestly, if I had my way, I’d keep him far away from you. But I know you, and I see how badly all this unresolved feeling is fucking with you. I don’t want that for you. So just know this is an option. It doesn’t have to be now, or next week, or even this month. But if you ever feel ready to talk to him again—especially now that it seems like you both understand what happened—he’s willing to apologize. I’ll even be there with you if you want.”

Jake was right, and you hated that. Deep down, you knew this unresolved pain would eat you alive. Heeseung had always been part of your life, and having him ripped away, even for just a couple of months, was agonizing. You didn’t know if you could just cut him out completely, so you slowly nodded. “Okay.”

Heeseung honestly had little faith that Jake would keep his promises, but he still held onto a sliver of hope. Yet, as the weeks passed with no word from you, that hope began to dwindle. After a month had gone by without any communication, he was on the verge of accepting that he had ruined the most important thing in his life. Just as he was about to let it go, fortune finally smiled on him: he spotted you outside, nervously biting your lip as you waited for his class to end. A grin spread across his face the moment your eyes met, and he walked toward you.

“Hey,” he greeted softly.

His smile made your heart race, and it was annoying to realize that he still had that effect on you after everything that had happened. “Hey, I was wondering if you were busy. I think I’m ready to talk.”

Heeseung mentally noted to give Jake the biggest thank you ever. Despite his doubts about Jake's ability to follow through, he couldn't be more grateful to be proven wrong.

“Yeah, of course. This is my last class of the day,” he said, eagerly nodding as you both walked out of the building.

“Oh great, I wasn’t sure about your schedule, so I was just hoping I got lucky and you were free.” The awkward tension between you was palpable. “Do you want to grab lunch? I can drive if you didn’t.”

“Yeah, that sounds perfect. Jay drove us today, but I’ll just text him that he doesn’t have to worry about me.” Heeseung couldn’t help the smile spreading across his face. It was amazing how much your presence lifted his spirits. You were like a ray of sunshine, and just being able to look at you felt pretty fucking incredible.

You shot him a small smile before nodding, leading him to your car. “Okay, perfect.”

The ride to the restaurant was quiet, with barely any words exchanged until you both placed your orders.

Knowing that silence would make everything feel pointless, you mustered the courage to clear your throat and initiate the conversation. “Jake told me you really wanted to talk to me again.”

Heeseung nodded without hesitation. “Yeah, I’m not going to lie, I really didn’t think he’d actually help, but I’m so glad he did. I hope you didn’t feel forced or anything—that’s the last thing I want. If you ever feel that way during this conversation, I would completely understand if you just walked away.”

You nodded, recognizing the sincerity in his words. It gave you reassurance about his intentions. “I wasn’t forced or anything, but it did take some time. Honestly, I didn’t want to hear you out again, especially since last time ended badly. But I’ve had time to think, and I’ve come to the conclusion that I need to do this, at least for myself, to move forward from everything.”

“I’m really glad you gave me a chance to talk to you again. Y/N, I know this might not mean much to you, but I truly want to say I’m sorry.” Heeseung sighed before continuing, “I’ve had time to reflect on everything, and I’ve realized that what I did was unfair to you and hurt you in ways I never intended. None of this was your fault, and I’m so sorry for putting you through that.”

Hearing those words felt like a wave of relief washed over your aching heart. It was as if you had been yearning to hear him acknowledge your pain, and his sincere apology felt like a crucial step toward healing. Yet, one lingering question held you back.

“Why did you do it?” you asked softly, almost afraid to voice it. You noticed Heeseung’s eyes soften at your words.

He sat in silence, contemplating your question. Why had he abandoned you during the last month of your relationship?

“I’m not sure,” he blinked, his brow furrowing in distress. “I know that’s not a good enough answer, but honestly, I don’t even think I understand it myself. I really don’t want this to sound like an excuse, but I didn’t realize what was happening until it was too late. That project consumed so much of my time, and unfortunately, that meant spending all those hours with Karina. It became a routine, and I thought it would help me finish the class with a good grade. I never stopped to consider if Karina had ulterior motives, and I’m so sorry—I never thought about how this would affect you.”

You were unsure how to process his words, but you appreciated his honesty and let him continue. “I didn’t mean to blow you off or prioritize the project, which ended up meaning prioritizing Karina over you. That was never my intention. I hope you understand that I never saw her as a replacement or thought she was better than you in any way, especially not romantically. I swear nothing happened between us until after you left for your trip. Even then, I was just so angry, and she happened to be there. She was only an outlet for my frustration, and I know that’s probably not what you want to hear, but I can’t deny that something happened. I just need you to know that aside from the physical, there was nothing else with her.”

Heeseung grimaced as he admitted all this. The weight of his actions felt unbearable, and when he saw your face—so sad, struggling to hold it together—it made him feel even worse. He hated that he was the cause of your pain.

You nodded slowly, your chest tightening as you absorbed his words and another sigh left your mouth. “That last month was so unbearable for me. It was literally hell. You have no idea how many nights I spent blaming myself, thinking I drove you to another girl. But what hurt even more was the aftermath. I’ve known you for so long, and I never realized how much you meant to my life until you were just… gone. I felt so lost without you.”

“It was the same for me. Y/N, you’ve been the love of my life since we were kids. You’ve always been my dream and literally everyone around us knows how much you’ve always meant to me. I’ve dated around and hooked up with other people but at the end of the day, I just kept coming back to you. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted. You’re my home. That’s why I had to take this chance—to see you again, to beg you to hear me out one last time.” His voice trembled, and a tear slipped down your cheek as you felt the weight of his desperation. Your heart ached, torn between the pain of the past and the flicker of hope in his eyes.

He reached over to take your hand in his, the warmth of his familiar touch sending a jolt through you. A small, hopeful smile broke through his anxiety. “I love you, Y/N. I truly believe you’re it for me. But if you need me to let you go, I’ll do it. I’d do anything to see you happy.”

“Heeseung…” The words barely escaped your lips before tears started streaming down your cheeks. You couldn’t hold back your emotions, even in this crowded place. His confession pierced through the defenses you had built, reaching deep into the empty spaces you didn’t even know existed. You remembered all the pain he had caused, the scars still fresh, and yet, despite everything, he was still your Heeseung. Your heart ached with the undeniable truth that he was your destined other half, and you couldn’t bring yourself to let him go completely.

In that moment, amidst the whirlwind of your emotions, the right path became unmistakably clear. You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of your feelings shift into something resolute. With trembling hands, you squeezed his. This wasn’t just about forgiveness; it was about embracing the possibility of healing together. “I can’t let you go, not now,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “Let’s find our way back.”

No one had ever warned you how difficult it truly was to rebuild something broken, even with someone you’d known your entire life. But now, standing on the other side of that struggle, as you watched the pieces of your relationship with Heeseung slowly fall back into place, you realized that every effort had been worth it. The awkward silences, the tentative steps, and the raw vulnerability—it had all led to this unexpected peace. Months ago, you would’ve laughed if someone told you not only that you’d be back together, but that you’d be more in love with Heeseung than ever before. Yet, against all odds, here you were—more sure of him, more connected, and somehow, more in love than you ever thought possible.

It had been two weeks since that lunch, two weeks since you both decided to give things another shot. Although hesitation still hung between you, trust was slowly rebuilding, and you could feel the progress with every passing day. The real breakthrough came when you got solid proof that Karina was no longer a looming threat. It seemed that Heeseung’s rejection hit her harder than anyone expected, leading her to pack up and flee to her family’s summer home in Lake Como. Word spread quickly that she was taking a semester off to “heal” from all the so-called negative toxicity, but honestly, you couldn’t care less. And it seemed that it wasn’t just you—everyone in your circle seemed to be rejoicing the second her plane left the tarmac, collectively exhaling as though they’d been holding their breath for months. Her departure felt like the final nail in the coffin of a drama that had dragged on far too long, and for the first time in a while, you felt truly free from the chaos.

You and Heeseung had agreed to take things slow, both afraid to fuck up the fragile foundation of your newly rekindled relationship. While you often found yourself holding back more than you were used to, the fresh start was also exciting, like falling in love all over again. The honeymoon phase was in full swing, and honestly, you were soaking it up. So much so that it seemed your entire friend group—finally restored, thank God (you were sure you’d even seen Jay shed a tear when he was reunited with Sunghoon)—was playfully revolting at how inseparable you and Heeseung had become. But despite the jokes, everyone was genuinely thrilled to see you two back together. Even the soft launch on Instagram stirred enough commotion that your mom called, confused. But you didn’t care about anyone’s reactions, because for the first time in a long time, you were truly happy.

“I’m surprised your little purse dog isn’t with you,” Yujin’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts as she appeared out of nowhere, making you jump.

“What?” You shot her a confused look.

“Heeseung! He’s like your own little purse dog these days. I don’t think I’ve seen you two apart since you got back together,” she teased, giving you a smug grin before snatching your drink from your hand and taking a big swig.

You snatched it right back, rolling your eyes. “That is not true!”

But the grin on your face betrayed you—you knew exactly what she meant.

Your half-hearted attempts to deny her claims were cut short when yet another voice chimed in, startling you once again. "Nah, Yujin's right. You two are capital C clingy."

"Stop sneaking up on me!" you groaned, shaking your head at both Ryujin and Yujin. They, of course, found your irritation hilarious. Before you could protest further, Ryujin also reached over and grabbed your drink, taking a long sip without hesitation.

"Oh my God, just take it!" you exclaimed, shaking your head in disbelief. You turned to grab a fresh cup, already resigned to making yourself another drink.

"But seriously, where is Heeseung?" Ryujin asked, glancing around the packed house, her eyes scanning the crowd for your boyfriend.

Jake had thrown a party to celebrate Karina’s dramatic exit, and it seemed like everyone you knew had shown up. His place was absolutely massive so it was insane to see the entire place bursting with people, not a single corner empty.

You shrugged as you added ice to your drink. "Not sure, I saw Jay dragging him out to the pool. I think they’re playing beer pong. You guys do realize we haven’t been together every second, right?”

Yujin scoffed. "You sure about that?t At least from what I’ve been seeing I’m having a hard time believing that."

“Yeah, babe, I don’t think there’s been a single day this week you haven’t been with him,” Ryujin added. But when she noticed a slight frown tugging at your lips, she quickly backpedaled. “But that’s not a bad thing! You guys are back together, and honestly, you seem so much happier and more in love. We’re happy for you.”

Yujin nodded in agreement. “Yeah, it’s cute. Almost sickeningly so. But seriously, we’re all just glad you two are happy again.”

Right on cue, you felt a familiar arm wrap around your waist from behind. You knew instantly who it was. “Aww, that’s so sweet, Yujin. Glad we have your support,” Heeseung teased, reaching out to fist-bump her.

"Were you out playing beer pong?" you asked, glancing up at Heeseung.

He nodded with a grin. "Yeah, Sunghoon and I absolutely annihilated Jay and Jake. Those two suck every single time, but they keep teaming up like they’ve got something to prove. Not that I’m complaining—it just means we keep winning. The loser had to admit the other’s dog was better, and Sunghoon had Jake practically in tears, saying Gaeul was superior to Layla. It was almost cruel. Layla’s literally upstairs, and he ran right up to apologize to her."

Ryujin snorted. "You guys are such kids. What kind of punishment even is that?"

"Hey, I’ll have you know that when it comes to Gaeul, I’d put my fucking life on the line for her!" Sunghoon appeared out of nowhere, clearly having overheard the mention of his beloved dog.

"Yeah, don’t mess with his dog. It’s, like, actually serious for him," Heeseung added, backing up his friend with a smirk.

You couldn’t help but smile. It felt so good to have everyone back together, the easy banter flowing like it always had. The boys, especially, had clearly missed each other. Things were a bit tense between Heeseung and Jake at first, but once Sunghoon and Jay rejoined the group, it felt like no time had passed at all. Of course, Heeseung wasted no time making it clear that you were off-limits now, even threatening that he’d shave Jake’s hair off if he so much as thought about crossing that line—and judging by Jake’s face, it was a threat he took seriously.

As Sunghoon passionately defended his dog, you felt Heeseung's arm tighten around your waist. He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “I don’t know about you, but I can think of something way better than listening to Sunghoon go on about his dog’s honor,” he whispered, his voice laced with mischief. “How about we check out one of the way-too-many bedrooms upstairs?”

The suggestion came with that familiar cheeky tone, and you didn’t need any convincing. Without a word, the two of you quietly slipped away from the group, who were still caught up in their conversation about pets. Heeseung was right—there were far too many rooms in this house, but luckily you knew exactly where to find a quiet, empty one.

Your body hadn’t even fully crossed the threshold before Heeseung captured your lips with a fervor you hadn’t felt since Hyunjin’s party. When you said that you and Heeseung were committed to taking your relationship slowly, you truly meant it. Sure, the two of you had made it to third base, but you had intentionally held back from rushing into sex, wanting to protect the delicate balance of your relationship. Yet, in that moment, it was clear that neither of you was opposed to going all the way. You both had been holding back for far too long.

Shutting the door behind you, he slammed you flat against the it as his tongue explored inside your mouth. You were panting against his lips as you reached for his clothes. It was obvious neither of you were particularly interested in taking it slow. 

“God you’re so fucking hot,” Heeseung didn't hold back his groan as his hand pulled your top over your breasts and cupped one in his hand, groping it as he deepened the kiss. You scratched a hand against the nape of his neck eliciting another low groan from him while his lips trailed down from your lips down to your neck. His touches had never felt better and you were yearning to feel him closer and deeper. 

While his lips worked their way down, you didn’t waste any time pulling your leather pants down, revealing the same pair of black thongs that you had been wearing the last time the two of you had sex and Heeseung groaned against your skin once he realized. 

“Fuck, you’re going to be the death of me.” You giggled at his response and quickly tugged him towards the bed, leaving behind a trail of clothes as the two of you continued to get rid of your clothes until you were left bare. 

Your hands firmly gripped his shoulders once he had finally stripped and you pushed him down on the bed as you also went down on your knees. His mouth was slightly agape as his eyes twinkled at the realization of what was happening.

“I’ve missed your cock so bad,” you purred before letting a wad of spit fall from your mouth and straight on his rock-hard dick. 

His eyes instantly rolled back when your hands wrapped themselves around his length and worked their way up and down, adopting a steady tempo. Your eyes never left his face as you held a determined look in your eyes, eager to please him.

“Fuck, just like that,” Heeseung barely managed to pant out as his eyes connected with yours.

You couldn’t hold back a smile. Knowing that your touches had him falling apart like this in pleasure had you growing overcome with lust. There was not a better sight than the one in front of you and you couldn’t break away from witnessing his every reaction even as you slowly started to lick his tip. 

He was panting hard as he watched you lick up and down his shaft before swirling your tongue around his sensitive tip that was dripping with precum. And when you sunk down, allowing his dick to find its place in your warm tight throat, his hands went straight to the back of your head, pushing you further down and inciting you to choke on his length.

It’d been a while since you’d deep-throated anything and you felt the tears instantly prick at your eyes as you gagged around his thick cock. You concentrated hard, closing your eyes to ease your throat as you slowly started to bob your head.

Saliva escaped down the corners of your mouth as the tears were now fully escaping your eyes. The filthy sounds of you gagging filled the room along with Heeseung’s deep grunts. His hands were fully pushing your head down as he thrust up, yearning for you to take him deeper. You tried your best to swallow around his as you searched for air, but he was relentless and pushed you until you couldn’t take anymore and had to slap the sides of his thighs for respite. 

 “Jesus Christ, Heeseung!” You gasped for air before coughing when he finally let you go, realizing how brutal he had been treating your throat.

“Shit, sorry,” his eyes were wide as he reached for your face, pushing your sweat-drenched hair away from your face. “It’s been so long and you felt so good, I’m so sorry-”

“Shut up,” you shook your head as you pushed him back on the bed. You ignored his apologies and quickly got on top of him, ignoring the fact that you had just been brutally choking on your boyfriend’s dick.

You were already dripping wet and Heeseung’s eyes couldn’t take his eyes away from your glistening pussy hovering over his dick. His hands guided themselves to your hips and you slowly teased him as you rubbed the tip of his dick at your entrance. 

“Please,” he pleaded desperately and that was all you needed to hear before you slowly sunk yourself down his length.

The two of you let out groans and you couldn’t help but heavily pant as you went lower, feeling him deeper in you. You felt so full that it felt like you could feel him all the way up your throat. Heeseung was massive and despite having loads of experience riding him, every time it felt like almost too much for you as your body felt like it was being stretched beyond its limit.

“Fuck, you’re too big,” you whimpered as you felt your body slumping over his, trying your best to get adjusted to his side. 

His mouth found yours as he passionately kissed you while his hands found your breasts, rolling your nipples between his fingers. “You’re taking me so well princess.”

As he praised you, you found yourself slowly attempting to move your hips and before you knew it, you were moaning against his lips as you moved up and down his length. The pleasure was overwhelming and you couldn’t stop. The stretch still stung, but the pleasure that came with it was more than anything you could’ve asked for.

“Heeseung,” you moaned out loudly as his hips thrust up to meet yours, forcing you to feel him deeper.

The room was filled with your wanton moans that didn’t stop chanting his name and the sounds of his balls slapping roughly against your pussy. His grunts were getting animalistic and before you knew it, he had flipped the two of you over changing the position and taking over. 

‘Oh my God!” You screeched as he moved your legs to hang over his shoulders, causing the new position to allow him to reach you deeper if that was even possible.

He relentlessly pounded against your sweet spot, “You feel so fucking good. Perfect pussy made just for me.”

His dirty talk had you whimpering and you found yourself reaching down for your clit quickly rubbing it, helping you reach your orgasm faster. 

“I’m almost there don’t stop,” you instructed, and with a couple more hard thrusts, you found yourself loudly crying out as you found yourself reaching your peak. 

You clung to him tightly as you rode out your orgasm and could feel him twitch inside you before also cumming closely after. He filled you to the brim with his cum as you limply laid there taking everything he gave you. Once he was finished, he slowly pulled out inciting a small whimper from you and you could feel all his cum slowly pouring out of you and down your leg. 

Heeseung, seemingly just as worn out as you were, plopped right next to you before pulling you close to him, cuddling you. A huge smile formed on your face as you turned your head to face him and kiss him, someone pounded on the door.

“You two are so fucked for that! You do realize Layla’s room is right next door!” 

Bonus:

It was unbelievable how fast time had flown, especially now, standing with all your closest friends in matching caps and gowns. You couldn’t help but marvel at the fact that you’d all made it through college in one piece, still tight-knit as ever. It was almost enough to bring you to tears—if you weren’t so distracted by how uncomfortable your dress had become under your gown. You kept fidgeting, trying to adjust it for a bit of relief.

“Stop wrinkling your dress!” your mother scolded, while busy straightening Jake’s tie.

“But no one’s even going to see the tie under the gown,” Jake whined, only for your mom to shoot him a stern look that silenced him immediately as she returned to perfecting his outfit.

True to her word, your mom had finally gotten Jake head to toe in one of her custom pieces (minus the cap and gown). “I don’t care if anyone sees it or not. You are not wearing one of my designs without it being flawless,” she insisted, focused on making sure everything was perfect.

You could hear the quiet snickers behind you, and without even turning around, you knew Sunghoon and Ryujin were loving every second of this. They had already survived your mother’s meticulous once-over and were now relishing in watching the rest of you squirm under her scrutiny.

"Yeah, come on Jake, stop being so fussy. You should be grateful she's even doing this for you," Heeseung chimed in, grinning. His playful jab at Jake was laced with just enough sweetness to win over your mom—or at least, that was the plan.

Your mom still hadn’t entirely forgiven Heeseung for the disaster he caused at her garden party, and her approval of your rekindled relationship was, at best, tentative. But it was clear she was slowly warming up, especially with the way Heeseung never missed a chance to flatter her.

“Alright, now you look presentable. Don’t you dare mess with it during the ceremony,” your mom finally declared, stepping back to give Jake a final once-over. She then turned her sharp gaze on the rest of you, making sure everyone else met her high standards.

You exchanged a glance with Sunghoon and Ryujin, who were both barely holding in their laughter. They clearly found your mom’s unofficial role as wardrobe enforcer far more amusing from the sidelines.

“Oh, you all look so beautiful,” your mother said, her smile softening in a way you weren’t used to. The warmth in her gaze caught you off guard, and suddenly, the stuffiness of your dress was the last thing on your mind. As your eyes met hers, the reality of the moment hit you—graduation day, surrounded by your closest friends, all of you about to step into the next chapter of your lives. You could feel the emotions welling up, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes as you took in the sight of everyone in their caps and gowns.

Heeseung, as if sensing your shift in mood, gently tugged your hand into his, threading your fingers together. He squeezed your hand and gave you a reassuring smile, grounding you just when you needed it most.

“Come on, let’s take a picture before we leave,” you suggested, grabbing Heeseung's hand and motioning to your friends.

Your group huddled close, arms draped over each other, laughter bubbling up as your mom snapped away on her phone. Heeseung’s arm stayed firmly around your waist, keeping you close while you smiled for the camera. The joy of the moment, the closeness of your friends, felt like the perfect snapshot of how far you had all come.

As soon as the last picture was taken, everyone started to drift toward the stadium for the commencement ceremony. You watched as the crowd began to gather under the soft glow of the setting sun. After a quick hug and goodbye to your mom, you turned to follow your friends toward the entrance gates.

Just before you could step through the gates, Heeseung gently pulled you aside, his fingers brushing your arm. He leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, “I couldn’t have done any of this without you. I’m proud of us.”

His words made your heart swell, emotions bubbling up in a way that almost took your breath away. You looked up at him, your smile soft and full of everything you’d been through together. “I am too,” you whispered back, a mixture of relief and joy filling your chest. “We made it.”

The air was cool, a gentle breeze lifting the corners of your graduation gown as you looked at Heeseung, remembering how uncertain things had once seemed. But now? Everything felt like it was finally falling into place. The obstacles and heartbreak had only made you both stronger.

As the sun began to set, Heeseung took your hand again, just like in the room earlier. This time, though, he brought it to his lips, brushing a light kiss across your knuckles before pulling you closer.

“I love you,” he said quietly, and it wasn’t a grand declaration—just a simple truth that felt completely genuine.

“I love you too,” you answered, your heart full.

Standing there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the future didn’t seem so intimidating anymore. It was uncertain, sure, but with Heeseung beside you, you felt ready for whatever was next.

TAGLIST: @notevenheretbh1 @leov3rse @slut4hee @llvrhee @simjungwon @lhspeachie @sakanelli-afc @rayofsunshineeee @deobitifull @iwaplant @mheretoreadff @farashawhee @skzenhalove @venfl-ifw @jaehoonii @melonvrs @enhastolemyheart @rainyjy @cha0thicpisces @love-be0m @niniissus

[inkedinshadows]

Nights and Days

Pairing: Azriel × reader

Summary: Azriel and Y/N are on a mission in Illyria, but as they move from one camp to another, they’re caught in a blizzard and are forced to find shelter in the nearest inn. Thanks to the shadowsinger, there's only one bed.

Warnings: 18+, smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v, just a sprinkle of shadow play, language, lots of witty banter

Word count: 6.3k

A/N: this is my first time writing smut, so I'd really appreciate it if you let me know what you think 🥺

Groups of rebels had begun to appear all over Illyria, claiming that Rhys was not a good High Lord, that a low-born bastard was not suited to be their general, and that training their women was nothing more than a waste of time.

After two weeks of diplomacy that led to absolutely nothing, Rhys had dispatched the Inner Circle to deal with the rebels. Mor and Amren had stayed in Velaris to make sure nothing happened, but the others had been sent out to Illyria. And Y/N had been paired up with Azriel.

They were flying from one war camp to the next—Y/N trying to focus on anything other than Azriel holding her close as he flew—when it started to snow.

“Is it safe to keep going?” she asked him, glancing at his beautiful wings flapping behind him.

“Would you rather I land now? In the middle of nowhere?” Azriel looked down at her with a little smirk on his face. “Give me some credit, Y/N. I can handle a little snow.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot you’re a big, tough Illyrian warrior. My bad.”

He didn't answer, but she didn't need to look at him to know he was still smirking. That annoyingly attractive smirk always made her want to kiss him. She focused on the forest below, on anything other than his lips and how close they’d be if she would just turn her head his way.

They flew in silence for just a few more minutes before the snow began to fall more heavily. Y/N simply looked at Azriel with a raised eyebrow, not bothering to use words.

“You’re insufferable, you know that?” he said when he noticed her expression, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice. “Camp is not that far. We can still make it.”

“Azriel, did you wake up this morning and just decided to be stupid?” She pointed at the grey sky above them, where more clouds were gathering with the promise of more snow to come. “You see that, right? It’s already late and we both know it’ll only get worse. We won’t reach the next camp before it turns into a blizzard. Besides, I’m freezing my ass off out here.”

His only answer was a low chuckle. “Oh, yeah? The poor princess is freezing her little ass off?”

She smacked him on the shoulder. “My ass is anything but little, shadowsinger. Shouldn’t you find us a shelter or something, instead of making fun of me?”

“Said the one who just called me stupid,” he pointed out. He lifted a brow, flashing her another one of those smirks. “Maybe you should apologize for that, and I might think about landing somewhere.”

She cocked her head, unsure if he was messing around or not. “I refuse to apologize for telling the truth. And you’d better land soon, or I’ll kick your ass when you do.”

Azriel’s laugh echoed in her ears, and it took all her focus not to smile just at that sound she so rarely got to hear. “As if you could actually kick my ass.”

If her arms hadn’t been wrapped around his neck, she would have crossed them over her chest. Or maybe she would have used them to strangle him, if only it wouldn't mean they'd fall out of the sky. Eventually, she settled to roll her eyes again. “Azriel, I’m being serious.”

Though she enjoyed their usual banter and she knew as well as everyone that she could never kick his ass, she hadn’t lied. Even with her Illyrian leathers, she was starting to freeze out there in the snow, and there was no way they would reach their destination without being caught in a full-blown blizzard.

“Relax. Despite what you think, Y/N, I’m not stupid.” He gestured to something below them just as she opened her mouth to protest. “It’s an inn. You would have noticed it already, if only you hadn’t been so busy complaining.”

“Shut up,” she grumbled, squinting to see through the trees and the snow. But as Azriel glided down, she finally saw it. It was a rather large building for an inn in the middle of the woods—many Illyrians probably passed through it—so there was a high chance of finding a couple of rooms to spend the night in.

Azriel landed and gently set her on the ground. Together, they headed for the door and were welcomed inside by the warmth of a fire in the corner of the room. She shook the snow off her hair as she took in their surroundings—a few tables full of Illyrian warriors, most of them drinking and laughing quite loudly.

“We ran out of double rooms.” The innkeeper looked at them as they approached, apparently too bored to even bother with greetings. “But we’ve still got a few single ones.”

Before she could tell him that two rooms were perfect, Azriel was already answering. “We need only one, actually.”

Next thing she knew, he had grabbed her hand and was leading her up the stairs, a key now clutched in his fingers. She waited for the door to close behind them before she turned to him with a frown. “What the hell was that? Why only one room?”

Azriel tossed his pack on the floor and replied as if the answer was obvious. “The hall was packed with drunk Illyrians.”

“So?”

He looked at her then, and she couldn’t quite understand what she saw in his eyes. Was it concern? Or frustration because she still didn’t realize something he thought was so simple?

“I’m not letting you sleep in another room alone, when a bunch of drunk Illyrians have just seen you, probably the only female here, walk in.”

Well, that was not what she expected. But as she thought it over, she couldn’t deny he had a point. She was able to hold her own in a fight, just not against fully trained warriors, and she didn't want to take any risk, especially when it was just one night.

Not knowing what to answer, she looked around the room, which consisted of only one bed and a small dresser—lame and boring, but it would do. Except for the one single bed.

She watched as Azriel sat on an old rug, the only decoration there was. “And what are you doing now, exactly?”

He shrugged, with that same expression that seemed to tell her the answer was obvious. “I'll take the floor, you take the bed.”

She almost laughed at that. “You can't sleep on the floor, not with your wings. I'll do it.”

“I'll be fine,” he replied, and extended his wings behind him as if to prove it. “Why would you want to sleep on the floor anyway?”

“Because I don't want you to do it,” she answered matter-of-factly. “Now get your ass off that floor, shadowsinger.”

Azriel did no such thing and instead leaned back against the wall and extended his legs in front of him. Her gaze dropped to his thighs, the muscles shifting with the movement.

“Why would I do that? It's comfortable here.”

She looked up again, her arms crossed over her chest. “It's not and you know it.”

Both of them too stubborn to give in, they glared at each other. She made no move to sit on the bed, and he made no move to get up. They probably could have spent hours like this, but she couldn't stand the idea of Azriel sleeping on a half-consumed rug, even if it meant she'd do it.

“You wouldn't want to face the rebels with a sore body tomorrow, would you?” she tried, hoping it'd make him think straight.

“I've slept on the ground before, I'll be fine. Big, tough Illyrian warrior, remember?” His lips twitched up, and amusement glinted in his hazel eyes. “Just take the bed, Y/N. We have a long day ahead of us.”

“Which is exactly why you should sleep on the bed, Az,” she snapped before taking a deep breath and speaking more calmly. “I'm just the backup. It doesn't matter if I'm sore.”

“It matters to me.”

His words hung heavily in the air, and she swallowed, not sure how to react to them or to the fervor in his voice. There was an intensity in his eyes that she’d never seen before and, unable to his gaze any longer, she blinked.

“You’re not going to budge, are you?” she asked with a sigh, her arms falling back to her sides.

“No.” And there it was again, that teasing grin she usually wanted to kiss. Right now, though, she felt more like punching him for his stubbornness. It outmatched even her own. “So I suggest you listen and take the bed. You need some rest.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Oh, and you don't?”

This time, it was his turn to sigh and roll his eyes at her. “Y/N, I’ll be fine. I’ve slept in worse conditions, and it’s only just one night anyway.”

And yet, the thought of him sleeping on that rug while she was all comfortable on the bed didn’t sit right with her. Just like her well-being mattered to him, his mattered to her. Maybe it was because he’d admitted it, or because he’d rather sleep on the floor than let her stay in another room when the place was full of Illyrians. Or maybe she was just trying to find some kind of excuse, but the words were out before she could think better of them.

“Sleep on the bed. With me.”

Azriel’s eyes widened, and she immediately regretted even thinking about it. “I beg your pardon?”

“I mean… it’s just…” she stuttered, her cheeks heating up as she looked away. What a huge mistake she’d just made. Just because he cared about her didn’t mean he’d want to share a bed with her. What was she even thinking? “I know it’s small and there’s not much space, but I just… I thought it’d still be more comfortable than the floor… you know?” Her voice trailed off, and she stared down at her feet.

Deafening silence filled the room, and then Azriel finally spoke, his tone cautious. “And that’s all you were asking?”

She frowned, not sure what else she might have been asking. But she quickly realized what words she had used and how that could potentially sound like something more than an offer to share the bed. Sleep on the bed. With me. Cauldron, she was so stupid. Her face turned an even deeper shade of red. When was the last time she had blushed?

“No, I wasn’t— that’s not what I—” She couldn’t get the words out, and it didn’t help that her mind was now wandering toward certain scenarios that involved the two of them, a bed, and very little clothing. She turned away from him and mumbled, “Whatever.”

“I think this is the first time I've ever seen you speechless.” There was amusement in his voice, and she knew the asshole was smirking once more. “You should watch your word choice if that’s not what you intended to ask.”

“Yeah, I know. Sorry,” she murmured as she reached for her pack, but when she took her nightgown out, she realized there was no place to go to get changed. How was she supposed to change in front of him after such an embarrassing mistake? So instead, she delayed the moment she’d have to do it by trying to explain again. “It wasn’t my intention to imply anything. It came out wrong.”

She could feel his eyes on her as he answered. “I noticed. What was your intention, then?”

The look she gave him was one of annoyance. He knew exactly what her intention was, and he just liked to mess with her. She glared at him for a moment before she replied, “I meant what I said. I don’t want you to sleep on that rug, and you don’t want me to do it either. So, the only other option is that we share the bed.”

“Mh, I see.” His lips tugged up in a self-satisfied grin that just made her want to hit him to see it disappear. Not that she could hit him even if she really wanted to. Azriel would block her blow with little effort. But how could she have ever wanted to kiss him?

“So sleeping next to me is the only option?” he added.

“You know what?” she snapped, gesturing to the rug where he was still sitting like it was the most comfortable place he’d ever been. “I changed my mind. Sleep on the floor. I don’t care.”

He chuckled. Chuckled. Cauldron boil her.

She turned her back on him and, without giving it any second thought, she began undressing. She hadn’t realized how warm the Illyrian leathers were until she shivered as soon as she took them off.

“It seems like you’re cold,” Azriel drawled from behind her.

“I’m not,” she replied. She put on her nightgown and sought refuge under the covers. “Not for long, anyway.”

How was Azriel going to spend the night on a rug, without a blanket? When he didn’t answer, she considered maybe asking him one last time to share the bed. Out of the goodness of her heart, she supposed.

But then Azriel spoke again, amusement clear in his voice. And the goodness of her heart be damned.

“You're cold, aren't you?”

She sighed, wrapping the blanket tighter around her body. “No.”

“Liar.”

“Prick.”

“I'm the prick? You're the one who suggested we should share the bed.”

Y/N resisted the urge to turn on her side and face him. Maybe it was stupid and childish of her, but she kept lying with her back to him. “I don't see how that makes me a prick, Az. Besides, you're the one who made fun of me because of it, which means you're the prick here.”

His voice still carried a sense of playfulness as he answered. “I made fun of you because you stumbled over your words like a fool. It was quite amusing, to be honest.”

Instead of replying, she slid a hand out from under the blanket and flipped him off over her shoulder. As she hid it again and curled up in the bedsheets, Azriel’s soft laugh made her smile despite herself.

She heard some noise and, assuming he was getting changed and ready for the night, she closed her eyes. But her mind was running wild.

Images of his hands on her. Of her hands on him. Their lips touching, first tenderly, then passionately. Their bodies pressed together as pleasure overcame them. All scenarios she had never let herself fully consider before, now evoked by Azriel's misunderstanding of her words. Scenarios she now knew for sure would never happen if the way he'd teased her for even suggesting sharing the bed was any indication.

“Make room for me?”

His voice was so close to her that she started, her head snapping around to find him standing next to the bed. He had taken off his leathers and was now wearing loose pants and a shirt. His wings were tucked in tight behind him—those beautiful wings that she knew were bigger than Cassian's and Rhysand's. She still wasn't sure she should believe Mor about the correlation between an Illyrian's wingspan and other body parts.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you,” he added with a small smile.

“You and your absurdly silent steps,” she grumbled, but she was already moving to the other side of the bed.

Only that there wasn’t exactly an ‘other side’, not when the bed was barely big enough for both of them. As Azriel slipped under the sheets, she found herself with her back pressed against his chest. His familiar scent of night-chilled mist and cedar filled her senses, and his warmth seeped through her, chasing away the remnants of the cold that even the blanket hadn’t yet managed to rid her of.

“Tell me you don’t move a lot when you sleep,” she said as he settled behind her. “Because if you push me off, I’ll make you regret not staying on that rug.”

His laugh skittered down her back. “You always have something to say, don't you?”

“I promise you, the moment there will be nothing to say, I will shut up,” she replied with a chuckle.

Silence fell and Y/N nestled more against his side. She just couldn't help it. Feeling him so close, their bodies pressing together... it was intoxicating, and she wanted to stay like that forever. She hesitated a moment, and then she decided that she might as well do it: grabbing his arm, she wrapped it around her waist and laced their fingers together, their intertwined hands resting against her stomach. Azriel tensed behind her, and she thought he might pull away, but he didn’t. Instead, he released a deep breath that tickled the back of her neck.

“I would never let you fall off the bed,” he murmured. His voice was so close to her ear that it almost made her shiver. And as if to show he really meant what he said, Azriel draped his wings around her.

Y/N suddenly had a lump in her throat. Being enveloped in his wings was somehow more intimate than lying so close to each other. “Glad to hear it,” was all she could think about. After a second, she added in a whisper, “And thank you for not letting me sleep alone.”

Azriel’s arm tightened around her waist, his breath warm against her neck. When he spoke, she could tell by his tone alone that he wanted to say more than just, “You're welcome.” She didn't push him though. He'd tell her when and if he decided to.

She closed her eyes and tried to fall asleep, letting the sound of the blizzard outside lull her, but with Azriel holding her it was nearly impossible. Wrapped in his arms and wings, she felt safe and protected. Everything else seemed to disappear until it was just the two of them in their small cocoon.

“Can you turn over?”

Her eyes opened at his question, but she didn't move. To face him would mean being only inches away from him. She didn't trust herself to be that close to him. To his lips.

“Why?”

“Just turn over, Y/N,” he whispered. “Please.”

It was the vulnerability in his voice—the barely audible ‘please’—that had her giving in. She had never heard him say it before, not like that.

But as she complied, her face was even closer to his than she'd anticipated. Their noses were almost touching, and she made a point not to let her gaze drop to his lips.

Azriel didn't say anything. They stared into each other's eyes for a few moments or maybe an hour—Y/N didn't know. The one thing she knew was that her heart was beating faster in her chest, and it only got worse when he brushed her cheek, his touch gentle and soft. She smiled, and the movement caused his gaze to dip to her mouth. She waited for him to look up again, but he didn't.

Her smile turned into a little smirk. “Are you just going to stare at my lips all night, or do you plan to actually do something about it?”

Azriel looked at her again, and though he tried to look annoyed, she could see a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Why do you always have to make such quick-witted comments?”

“Shut up and kiss me,” she replied before she even knew what she was saying. She didn't regret it though, because he did it.

And the world shrank till there was just Azriel.

His lips were soft against hers, warm and inviting. His hand moved from her cheek to the back of her head, his fingers tangling in her hair as he pulled her closer. She melted against him, opening up for his tongue to slip inside, tasting her slowly, almost reverently. Her heart was beating so fast it might have jumped out of her chest.

She'd wanted this to happen for the longest time, and now that it was real, the leash she'd kept on herself vanished. Every feeling, every emotion she'd stifled for so long, now rushed to the surface like a tidal wave.

What had started as a tender kiss soon turned into something passionate and greedy. She whimpered softly against his lips, and her hands began to make their way down to the hem of his shirt.

“Y/N.” Azriel's whisper stopped her as she looked into his eyes. She could see her own need reflected there. “Are you sure about this?”

“I don't look sure enough to you?” She raised an eyebrow. “Maybe next time I should just send you a note and—”

Azriel silenced her with another kiss. “You and your sarcastic answers,” he murmured with a smile.

Y/N giggled and cupped his cheek, brushing her thumb against his lips. “I mean it, Az,” she said, her tone softer now. “I'm sure about it.”

“Good.” He pulled her flush against him as his hands roamed down her back. “Because if I start, I don't think I could stop.”

“Good,” she repeated before she kissed him again.

Y/N tugged on his shirt, and they parted long enough for her to take it off, though it took a bit of struggle to undo the clasps on his back and free his wings. She'd seen him shirtless before, mostly when he was training—he was a real feast for the eye—but now she got to touch him, to run her hands across his torso and feel him shudder. His mouth descended on her neck in response, leaving a trail of wet kisses while his hands gripped her backside.

“You were right, princess,” he murmured, his breath hot against her skin. “Your ass is definitely not little.”

She chuckled as he kneaded it. “Told you.”

Azriel hummed, planting one last kiss on her neck before he shifted position and Y/N found herself pressed down on the mattress, the shadowsinger now on top of her. As she pulled him closer for their lips to meet yet again, his hands caressed her legs, trailing up her thighs and slipping under her nightgown.

She held her breath as he brushed past her panties, lingering just long enough to make her shiver. He then moved up her body, causing the fabric to rise and reveal her soft flesh.

Y/N broke the kiss, a small sigh leaving her lips when Azriel’s hands reached her breasts. He smiled at the sound, and as their eyes met, his gaze was so full of desire that her core clenched.

She wanted him. She needed him.

Before she could reach between them to push down his pants, Azriel gently stopped her by grabbing her wrists, sensing what her intention was. “Not yet,” he murmured.

She frowned. A slight tug was all it took for him to release her hands, though she didn't try to undress him again. “Why not?”

And there it was again, that smirk. But now, with him on top of her, both of them half naked, she didn't simply want to kiss it. No, she wanted do all the things she'd never let herself consider.

“Because I want to see you first, princess.”

Azriel was already pushing her nightgown up, but as usual, she couldn't keep her mouth shut. “So it's official? You're calling me princess now? You've never done that before.”

He looked down at her with so much desire that it seemed to set her body on fire. “I've never been about to fuck you before,” he answered, his voice low and sultry.

Her thighs clenched together, but before she could come up with a response, Azriel removed her nightgown. Her skin was already so heated she barely felt the bite of the cool air, and it was completely forgotten when he ran his hands all over her body, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“You're so beautiful,” he whispered as he leaned down to take one of her nipples in his warm mouth, a soft moan escaping her as she shivered.

Her fingers tangled in his hair to keep him close, and she arched against him when his tongue flicked out to tease her.

“And you're so responsive,” he murmured. Hooking a scarred finger into the waistband of her panties, he pulled them down her legs. The scent of her arousal wafted through the room as Azriel nudged her legs open and settled in between them.

Y/N was about to tell him to hurry, her need to feel him against and inside her now almost overwhelming. But she couldn’t form the words, not as Azriel pushed his hips against hers and she felt the evidence of his own arousal pressing hard against her wet core.

His hands caressed her sides, her ass, her thighs, and yet he never touched her where she needed it most.

“Azriel…” she complained, eyes locked on him. She moved her hips to grind against his erection, seeking some sort of friction, and she was rewarded by his sharp inhale. But it still wasn't enough.

“Be patient, Y/N.” His mouth descended on her neck again, biting the soft spot where it met her shoulder. “I want to taste you first. I want to worship every inch of you.”

Even though she closed her eyes at his little nips, she shook her head. “Azriel, I appreciate it. I really do. But you have no idea how long I've waited for this.” Her breath hitched when his tongue swirled around her nipple again. “We can leave the worshipping for later. I need you now.”

“You need me, uh?” He kissed her other breast, and she bucked her hips against him once more. “And you've waited a long time for this?”

Y/N looked at him again, her fingers still clutching his hair. She nodded and realized her mistake too late—a new mischievous gleam entered Azriel's hazel eyes.

His lips trailed down her stomach and toward her belly button. Each kiss sent a shiver right to her core. “Then you can wait a little longer.”

She groaned, her patience now at its limit. “Azriel, you—”

A gasp cut her off as he licked a stripe up her dripping folds. She couldn't tell who moaned first when Azriel tasted her once more, his tongue flicking over her clit.

Her fingers tightened in his black curls and her head fell back on the pillow. Azriel's lips closed around her clit and she clamped a hand on her mouth to keep quiet as he gently sucked on it.

His shadows began to slither up her body, their touch cool against her heated skin. Her breathing quickened and she had to hold back a moan when his tongue was replaced by a finger slowly sliding inside her folds.

But it didn't move. Azriel looked up at her and she wished she could somehow capture the picture: his head between her legs, those beautiful hazel eyes focused on her with an almost predatory intent.

“Don't go all quiet on me now, princess,” he murmured against her skin. “I want to hear all your pretty noises.”

A tendril of shadow brushed against her hand, and she removed it from her mouth. “Az, the other rooms—”

He curled his finger to hit that soft, spongy spot inside her that had her see stars, and she couldn't stop the moan that left her lips.

“I don't care if someone hears you.” His voice was a low, almost commanding growl. “Let them hear you. Let them know you're with me.”

She was about to answer, to tell him she wasn't sure she should, but Azriel added a second finger, and she lost all control, another small cry of pleasure slipping out.

Azriel seemed satisfied because his smirk reappeared. “If I had known this is all it took to put a stop on the witty comments, I would have done it a long time ago.”

Y/N wanted to make one of those very witty comments to prove him wrong, to show him she hadn't become helpless just because of how good he made her feel, but his tongue circled her clit again and Mother above, she was helpless.

“Do you want to come, princess?”

Unable to form even a coherent thought, all she could do was nod, her body on the brink of release as his fingers curled once more, drawing a moan from deep in her throat.

“Use your words, Y/N.”

“Yes… yes, please,” she panted.

But instead of keeping going, of driving her over that sweet, craved edge, Azriel placed a kiss to her inner thigh and slowly removed his fingers from her folds. He even moved away from her, standing up at the foot of the bed.

She groaned, pushing herself up on her elbows to glower at him. “Azriel, you get back here right now.”

He only grinned. “Ah, there she is.”

“If you're doing this just because you missed my comments, you should know that I—”

The words died on her tongue as soon as his hands swiftly undid the buttons of his pants. Her eyes followed his every movement as he pushed them down his legs, watching his muscles shift and his wings unfold ever so slightly to keep him balanced.

He wasn't wearing any underwear.

The realization caused her brain to stop working, and the sight of his naked body took her breath away. Maybe the rumors about Illyrian wingspans were true after all.

Her mouth dry, she swallowed before finally speaking again. “Azriel,” she repeated, her voice quivering with barely restrained desire. “Get back here right now.”

For once, he obliged without questioning, his grin wide.

Climbing onto the bed, he crawled up her body until his cock pressed against her entrance, her need for him now through the roof.

Their eyes met, and slowly—too slowly—Azriel pushed in, stretching her inch by delicious inch, both of them releasing a moan when he bottomed out, his hips flush against her.

“Fuck,” he groaned, the sound shooting straight down to her core. “Fuck, Y/N... you feel incredible.”

She had no words to describe how he felt inside her. ‘Incredible’ was an understatement, but her mind was too foggy to think of something else. The only thing she was sure of was that she needed him to move.

“Azriel,” she breathed as she wrapped her legs around him. He shuddered when she accidentally brushed his wings with her toes. “Please, move. Now.”

With his elbows on either side of her head, he leaned down to kiss her, pulling out almost all the way. “I love hearing you beg for it,” he whispered against her lips, and rocked back into her with a quick roll of his hips before she could even think of a response.

He didn’t even try to go slow, instead immediately setting a relentless pace that left her panting, but she didn’t mind. Every choked sound and breathless moan were swallowed by his kiss, their tongues swirling together. Her hands found their way into his hair, around his neck, down his back, and her nails scraped along his warm and slightly sweaty skin while he thrust into her, her hips rising to meet his.

Azriel’s own groans and whimpers were music to the ears, each of them bringing her closer to release. As if he knew her body well enough already, he seemed to sense it too, because his lips left hers to trail down her neck.

“That’s it, princess,” he praised. His clipped voice let her know he was probably trying to hold back his own impending orgasm. “Come for me.”

His shadows flew in the little space between their bodies to tease her clit, drawing a guttural groan from her. It was like nothing she’d ever felt before—cool against her hot skin, a barely-there touch that yet was enough to make her shudder and whine. But it was the uniqueness of it all that sent her toppling over the edge.

A loud cry broke from her as her vision blurred and her body tensed, her nails slightly digging into Azriel’s back while he slowed his thrusts to draw out her pleasure. But he soon resumed his punishing pace, his hips slamming into hers almost frantically, the sound of skin on skin filling the small room as he chased his own release.

She choked out his name right as he stilled, hot spurts of cum filling her, his last few moans muffled when she pulled him in for another desperate kiss.

They were both panting by the time they broke apart, but neither of them tried to move. Azriel still lay buried deep inside her, and simply rested his forehead against hers, a smile on his lips that mirrored her own.

Despite his heavy breaths, his brows raised as he asked playfully, “So was the wait worth it?”

“It was,” she answered with a chuckle. Her hands came up to cup his face, her thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. “You certainly know what you’re doing, shadowsinger.”

Wrong words.

“Is that so?” His grin only widened, and he gave another roll of his hips that dragged a groan from the back of her throat.

She slapped him on the shoulder, but her smile matched his. “Smug ass.”

Azriel's soft laugh tickled her cheek as he kissed it. Slowly, he pulled out of her, leaving her with a feeling of emptiness.

Not ready to let him go just yet, she curled up in his arms as soon as he lay down next to her. Azriel immediately embraced her, holding her close to his chest, their legs tangled.

A comfortable silence settled over them as they bathed in the afterglow of sex, interrupted only by their soft breathing and the blizzard still raging outside.

As the minutes passed, Y/N struggled to keep her eyes open, but she had always wanted to trace the swirling lines of Azriel's tattoos, and now she had her chance. Her fingers danced along the Illyrian design, following the pattern from his neck to his arm, then lingering a bit longer on his sculpted pecs and feeling the muscle beneath her fingertips. His heart was beating fast, pounding in his chest.

“Can you promise me something?”

She glanced up at him, his eyes already fixed on her. The corner of her lips twitched upwards. “Depends on what it is.”

Azriel was silent for a long moment before he spoke again with a new seriousness in his tone. “Promise me that we’ll give this a chance. That we’ll give… us a chance.”

Her fingers halted their roaming, her heart skipped a bit, and a part of her whispered that she had heard that wrong, that she had misunderstood. No way he was actually asking her what she thought he was asking her, despite just having had sex.

She had to swallow the lump in her throat to be able to murmur, “Do you mean that?”

Azriel's eyes softened, like he knew she was even more vulnerable now than while they were fucking, and that whether her heart broke or not depended entirely on his answer.

“I’ve waited for this for a long time too, Y/N,” he said gently, cupping her cheeks to look right into her eyes. “I don’t want just this one night with you. I want all the nights you’ll give me.”

Y/N smiled then, so bright it could have lit up the whole room. She wanted to kiss him senseless, to hold him tight and never let go. And nothing was stopping her anymore, she realized, so she did just that.

She showered his face with tiny kisses. Every beautiful inch, from his nose to his jawline, from his eyebrow to his chin. Azriel's arms wrapped around her middle to pull her closer, and she relented her assault only when he chuckled.

Their eyes met again, and she knew there was no turning back now. But she would never turn back now.

“I’ll give you all the nights in the world, Az,” she finally said once the burst of joy subsided. “And the days, too. I'll give you anything you want.”

His smile was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. It was wider than ever before and the urge to touch his small dimples rushed through her—dimples she'd never known he had, but that she'd do anything to see again.

When he kissed her, it was slow yet passionate, gentle yet desperate, their breaths mingling, their hands caressing cheeks and running through hair.

“You're the only thing I want,” Azriel murmured once their lips parted. “Every night and every day. I want only you.”

Those were probably the most beautiful words she'd ever heard. Not even in her dreams did she imagine he would say them. Dwelling on what it would be like to share moments of passion was one thing, but this…

She moved to straddle him, mindful of his wings splayed out beneath him. She wanted to run her fingers down their length, and hopefully, sooner rather than later, she might get to do just that.

“Then I hope you're not too tired, shadowsinger.” She leaned down to trail kisses along his tattoo, but her eyes never left his. “Because you can't say something like that without expecting me to fuck you again.”

His hands tightened their grip on her thighs, her words enough to ignite the fire in him once more. “I'm yours, princess. We have all night.”

“All the nights,” she corrected him with a grin, already grinding on him. “And all the days.”

Maybe they would be facing the rebels with sore bodies, after all.

Tags: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover

(If I accidentally added someone who wanted to be tagged only in part 3 of A Helping Hand and not the general tag list, please let me know and I'll fix it)

[depresssant]

Shades Of Cool

NEGLECTFUL!PLATONIC!YAN!batfam x GN!reader - part l, part ll

synopsis : growing up with a shit mom and constant step-dads and mom's boyfriends, your view on life has grown pretty bleak. you just want to die, since it doesn't seem to get better than this. things can't get any worse, can they?

so reader is very flawed ppl. i’m trying to make this as gn as possible for pls bear with me. asks and requests r open. reblogs are also much appreciated. now that i’ve gotten my e-begging out of the way, enjoy this pathetic excuse of a story

warnings : child abuse, past sexual abuse, yandere, etc

you want to die.

you always do.

staring at the wanna be thug pointing a gun at you, you sigh and roll your eyes in exasperation. perhaps pissing him off will the best way to get him to curl a finger around the trigger. or judging by his temperament, you won't have to do much.

"you? i should give my money to you?"

"who the fuck do you think you are, bitch?" the thug screams at you angrily. his grip gets tighter and clammier. he's not experienced with this. he's probably ganged up with a bunch of thugs to pull shit like this. it wouldn't take much to disarm him. "give me the fucking money before i blow your head off!"

"to a junkie like you?" you are a junkie, too, so you're not too sure about making fun of him for that. "i don't give money to hobos."

that is wrong, too. but you want to piss him off.

"that's it, you stupid bitch!" the thug's stances becomes defensive. his hateful glare is pointed at you while he musters the courage to actually press the trigger. he doesn't look like he'll do it. you've seen countless like him roaming the streets, holding you at gunpoint. he probably won't do it. then again, this is gotham. you don't expect much. either he'll shoot you dead, forcibly take your stuff, flee the scene out of fear, or be dismantled by one of the city's vigilantes. perhaps he'd shoo—

"stop right there!"

damn it.

you think too soon.

a young robin is quick to have the wanna be thug tied up and beat down. you would've questioned why a kid who seemingly looked twelve can do such a thing, but you've learned to not question most things in your life. you merely sigh in disappoint and pick up your dropped backpack before beginning the journey to hell.

"excuse me? wait! where are you headed?"

gosh, his boy-ish voice grates your nerves. makes you clench your teeth. your gaze narrows, but you know better than to react. reaction gains a reaction—one that will never be in your favor. it'll lead to a fight—one that will never be in your favor. you'll end up broken, bleeding, and bruised. now that isn't something in your favor. now you're thinking of favor too much. forcing a smile, you turn around to face the pre-teen vigilante. "yes?"

"are you alright?" he asks with practiced concern. he doesn't actually care. it's probably just protocol.

"a-okay!" the words are hollow. they lack depth. like you. "thank you for your help. i don't know what would've happened to me if you weren't there."

you do know. you wish you wouldn't.

"you're welcome," robin replies with polished words like he's not exactly convinced. "would you like for me to walk you? the city hasn't been safe for some time now."

"when is it ever safe? but that's okay. i live just around the corner, so i think i'll be fine."

"are you sure—"

"completely."

please. why won't he just leave you alone? there goes your plan spoiled by him again. every time you've been in an attempted robbing, he's been there to destroy your chances of getting shot. of escaping. he always does this. this is a repeated cycle between the two of you. he's a flying bird until you shoot him down. your name clearly wants to escape from his lips, but robin nods his head in understanding.

"this seems to happen to you all the time. my wish is for you to be safe."

"this is gotham." the grip on the straps on your backpack tighten. "everyone's gotta go through this. anyways, i gotta go, you know. thanks for savin' me."

"of course."

you don't spare him a single glance. the sky is wrapped up in black clouds heavy with the burden of rain. icy cold wind sings a melancholy tune through the stiff air. the door to your apartment looks like the gates of hell. it's all futile. no matter how many sighs you sigh, how many wishes you wish, and how many curses you curse, you'll still land up in the same fate. without escape.

that is the summary of your life.

taking a few seconds to prepare yourself for the incoming session, you open the door to be met with radio silence. silence is never good. half the time, it means something is brewing for you, and they're taking their sweet time to scare you into thinking nothing will happen. sometimes. not all the time. the other time, it just means he need to rise from his pile of misery first.

the hand of your mother's boyfriend is instantly wrapped around your neck before you can even register why the hell the apartment looks like a tornado hit it. he squeezes so tightly you feel like blood is gushing out of your ears with how loudly they ring. white spots dot along your blurry sight as you struggle to breathe. you can hear a frantic voice telling him to let you go, but you're pushed up more against the wall. this is the norm. doesn't mean it hurts any less. he'll let you go, give you some time to regain your breath, and then rain down bullets upon you.

that's exactly what happens.

your hand goes straight to your neck as your raspy and shaky coughs wreck your chest. he squeezes hard enough for it to hurt but it not show. and then the kicks and punches come. with how much your chest and ribs are struck, you're a bit surprised at how you haven't broken a bone yet. your potential step-father screams at you, but you can barely hear it over the repetition of words in your head. he grabs your bloody face and shout something incoherent before letting you go to kick you.

leaving you in your own pile of misery.

it's normal. yes, it's completely normal. you're used to this. it'll get better. it always does. but you've got the crushing idea it never will.

gotham heights high school—the school you're forced to attend.

the class division is insane to look at, because it's there even from a short and near prospective. how the richest kids got put in a school with the poorest—you'll never know. the only thing you do know is that every one of these kids are pieces of shit. even the ones that pretend to be nice.

tim drake—or shall you say tim wayne—is no different.

even as he helps up the girl who just got roughly pushed to the floor, causing all her textbooks to scatter, you can only eye him with disdain. if he really cares, then he would've beat the shit out of those athletes. but he doesn't. they're all the same—privileged and all. sympathy shouldn't be given to them. not to drake or the wealthy yet somehow bullied girl.

"but y'know what i heard?" your friend drags your attention back to him. zarian leans against a locker lazily, but excitement practically buzzes off of him. "the bruce wayne is coming to our track meet today!"

your other friend, jaylene, rolls her eyes as she applies her eyeliner using the mirror hanging up on the inside door of her locker. she speaks exactly what you're thinking. "only because his beloved son is gonna be there."

"well, still. think about the connections we can make! all the famous people that'll be there."

"keep dreaming. asshat. i put all my money on the attention being on rich the kid. i don't even know why he joined track. varsity, at that, too. there has to be some sort of bribery going on."

an incoming argument is clearly brewing up, so you take in a deep breath to say something, but a new voice beats you to it.

"excuse me?"

you and your two friends turn to face the guy standing in front of you. charismatic, intelligent,  and optimistic—he's an enigma that shines on everyone. tim drake. his black, messy yet somehow in place hair does no justice for his good looks. he's the complete package. rich, good looking, tall, and empathetic. the mere sight of him annoys you.

zarian is the first to speak up. he quirks a brow and offers tim a grin. "what's up, man?"

"you're leaning against my locker." tim rubs the back of his neck. he smiles awkwardly in the presence of the three of you, and it takes your friend a beat to understand what he's saying before moving away.

"oh yeah. my fault," he says as he moved to stand next to you.

the school's very own bruce wayne only shakes his head and tells him it's okay while opening his locker and grabbing a few things. people flock around, waiting for him to be done with whatever the hell he's doing, so they can be back to his side like leeches sucking on blood. he surely can't be this dumb, no? these people don't want to be his friend...

well, it's not as if it's your problem. you wish it is. you and your friends turn to make way to first period, but drake clearly has other plans. he sandwiches himself between you and zarian with a grin of his own plastered on an unblemished face. one carefree of any worry or pain. "so," tim begins. "first track meet of the year, huh? aren't you guys nervous?"

jaylene merely hums in amusement and shrugs. "it gets better. when you've spent four years in track—in front of all those judging people—it wears off. hopefully, you'll get used to it soon."

that is jab, though, rich the kid doesn't seem to catch on. he laughs casually, but even you can sense the anxiety like it was radioactive. ""i hope so. i've sprinted so much i feel like i'll get shin splits again."

you zone out while he has a conversation with your friends. as if drake has ever had experience with track. it took you all of freshman year to just prove that you can actually be a part of the track team, and here tim drake is, parading around about getting on varsity without a single grain of hard work. he's a naturally talented person. good at everything. that's what makes you hate him so much. people like him get everything handed to them just because they're good at it first hand and leave behind people that actually work for it. you want to tell him to buzz off—that he can't talk about how much he's practiced and how nervous he is, but you keep your mouth shut. that is, until he directly addresses you.

tim's eyes narrow at you with comedic suspicion. "you know, you look like someone i know. a lot. the resemblance is crazy."

"eight billion people out there. you never know." your tone is flat, stoic, lacking any bit of emotion.

"gosh, you even sound like him! that's really terrifying."

"well, whoever, it is, i hope i never meet him," you murmur.

your two friends leave for their classes soon, and you and drake find your seats at the back of high school economics. exhaustingly so, you sit together in one of the many desk pairs, and drake uses this opportunity to annoy you any chance he gets. you give off the vibe that you don't want to talk to him. he doesn't get the hint. you don't tell him, though. maybe that's the problems. his shit-eating grin ticks you off when you look in his direction. "what?"

"let's be friends!"

"no."

"what? come on! don't be so cold!" he whines like a petulant child being told no.

"no."

"too bad! you're my friend now."

"tim," you sigh. it's wrong to scream. it's bad to scream. screaming leads to fights. fights lead to you laying in a pool of your own blood. laying in blood leads to missing practice. missing practice leads to less skill. less skill leads to less of a chance of getting the hell out of here. just smile. forgive and forget. know your persona. know who you are. kind. happy. funny. "fine." so you smile with gritted teeth. you smile like you played a cruel joke on him. "we can be friends... i guess."

his face brightens at your fake words like he is just given the the world.

tim drake wiggles his eyebrows playfully and nudges you with his elbow. "you know, i've been trying to get you to say that since school started?"

"really now?"

"really. i'm glad we're going to be friends. oh! should we go out to eat with zarian and jaylene after the meet?"

... there's a chance your mom's boyfriend will get pissed off. he'll probably beat the shit out of you since the track meet would have happened, and you wouldn't need to have an unblemished body for meets. he'd scream, yell, and punch... like his life depended on it... fuck it.

"yeah," you reply shortly after with a firm nod of your head. "we can go to this diner near the theater. i'm sure you'll love the food."

this doesn't mean you hate him any less. he's still rich scum⏤how you're poor scum. he's stuck up, pretentious, and sickeningly sweet. exactly what you hate. you just hope you can have a good time after the track meet. the mischievous glint in his eyes told you otherwise.

"and this is my dad, bruce wayne."

what the hell are you doing?

the sun is setting along the horizon, the air is getting cooler again, and you want to sink into the floor. the plan was to head straight to the diner after this, but rich the kid somehow roped you into meeting his dad?

nausea pools in your stomach from both hunger and the feeling of thousands of eyes staring at you. cameras are flashing at gotham's billionaire as he smiles and firmly shakes your hand. confidence drips off of him disgustingly. his high-tailored suit radiates wealth and money. his stoic demeanor gives off an aura of mystery. you want to lay on a railroad track with an incoming train speeding along the way.

"it's nice to meet you. tim has ranted about his track teammates quite a lot."

there's an eleven year old standing next to him. his eyes are on you like that of an owl's but you neither glance at him or bother to acknowledge him. you just want to eat some food before meeting your doom at that apartment for not placing first like your mom's boyfriend wanted you to. like a goat getting stuffed before slaughter. it always leads down to that. no matter how many times you try to wish it was different. no matter how many times you imagine it to be different. no matter how many times you try to make it different.

"nice to meet you too." you shake his hand as well with a polite smile on your face. polite. calm. gentle. proper. "and yeah, he seems very eager to be on the team."

"of course, of course. well, it is getting late. why don't you come over for dinner some time?"

"maybe tonight?" tim suddenly adds in. at your hesitant expression, he groans in exasperation. "who do you think we are? blood-sucking bats? come on, we can go to the diner some other time!"

you have just met him... you've just accepted being his friend... you aren't the most social person. you've never had much friends, but even you can understand that dinner with the family doesn't happen until the friend and person have come close in a long period of time. jaylene and zarian have other matters to tend to, so it's going to be just you and tim at a diner. not⏤

ding!

your phone's notification's alarm chimes, and when you check who has sent you a message, you feel like getting on the ground to pray to whatever deity for letting you have a moment of peace.

mom: ⏤he's heavily drunk. don't come home.

a part of you is hit with a strong current full of guilt. this is your mother. you're supposed to be there for her through thick and thin. you're supposed to protect her and be her wall of defense against monsters like him. family look out for each other. you have to take care of her... but she doesn't take care of you. this makes you a terrible person. you know that. she'll probably get beaten to an inch of her life and hide her heavy bruises under makeup that was terribly done in a rush. and then, she'll throw whatever object is in sight at you in a fury of anger.

telling you she made too many sacrifices for you. telling you that you're ruined her life. telling you that she should've aborted you like your father had told her to. telling you exactly what you believe yourself. a curse that should've never been born... she'll be beaten within an inch of her life. but you have already lost yours.

after pretending to text her and sliding your phone into the pocket of your sweatpants, you nod with a sigh of joking resignation. "sure. i asked my mom, and she said it's okay."

"wonderful." mr. wayne nods and gestures to the limo you can see in the parking lot. a bit of overkill, perhaps.

honestly, you're still surprised that gotham's billionaire is inviting you to dinner. this man is the topic of magazines, and you're about to take a ride in his limo. how the hell have you ended up in a situation like this? fate is still fucking with you, isn't it?

you find yourself seated next to tim while mr. wayne and his youngest son, damian, sit on the seats to your right. they're talking about something, but once again, you find yourself half listening and zoning out, staring at nothing until mr. wayne's questions pulls you back to reality.

"so how has school been faring for you?" mr. wayne asks in a cool and collected tone.

you laugh lightly and smile as politely as ever. "pretty good. i hope to leave gotham after graduation to study somewhere else."

"who would want to stay in gotham?" tim rolled his eyes, rolling the first place medal between his fingers. "by the way, remember when i said you looked like someone i know? i was talking about my dad?"

your brows rise in both exasperation and annoyance at his claims. now he's just plain, out right trying to make fun of you in front of a billionaire. your shoulders tense, ready to refute his claims, but mr. wayne surprisingly chuckles and rubs his chin while taking a good look at your face. "well, i can see it, but there's eight billion people out there in the world. i'm bound to look like someone. though, i didn't expect for it to be someone as talented as [name] here."

you force a quiet laugh along at the sound of his tone. foreboding. you know tones like this. like he's hiding something that they all know except for you. it means you've made a mistake in even giving in to tim drake's constant begging. why the hell was he so eager to have you become his friend? why is he so eager to maintain a friendship with you? why the hell has mr. wayne invited you to dinner when he's rumored to be mysterious, secretive, and a literal brick wall that nobody can get past?

"you've achieved so much for a child your age." mr. wayne sets his gaze dead on you. "your father must be so proud."

and his eyes glimmer with that same shine you saw in tim's.

ewwww

this was not proofread so forgive me and uh, i will be turning this into a series

um also making a tag list if anyone wants to be a part of it

[gutsby]

Abstaining Game

Pairing: dbf!Joel x Reader

Summary: The only thing worse than an anti-sex retreat is an anti-sex retreat with your former fuckbuddy and dad’s best friend. Especially when sharing one cabin.

Warnings: 18+. IF HE AIN’T GRAYIN’ I AIN’T STAYIN’ 🗣️ [Age gap]. Unprotected p-in-v. Forced proximity. Joel making you fuck just his middle finger when he’s mad. Daddy kink. Overstimulation. First-time squirting. Angst.

Translations: ‘Don’t piss down my back & tell me it’s raining’ is a fun Southern phrase for, ‘Cut the bullshit’ or ‘Don’t lie.’

Sequel to Waiting Game & Hating Game (last rhyme I swear)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

October 26, 2024

Dear Joel,

Roses are red,

We’re a couple of sluts,

Abstinence camp is awful,

I miss you rearranging my guts.

You were just about to put your pen back down to paper and add the finishing touch, signing an equally lascivious farewell, when the letter was snatched out of your hands. A tyrant in khaki capris and an artichoke-colored polo eyed over your words with a pointed look and frowned.

“Letters to the boyfriend have to be G-rated,” Marlene said, crumpling the thing in her fist before chucking it.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you returned shortly. Then, “That was actually meant for my dad’s friend.”

You sat tight a moment as the dots came to connect in the woman’s parochial and prudish mind—waiting for the wince of disgust to twitch at the corners of her eyes when she put two and two together. Once it did, you grinned. Even when she plucked the pen out of your hand and told you to sit outside, if you can’t participate in this one simple activity, you smiled bigger and strolled at a comfortable pace out the canteen door.

Anti-sex ‘summer camp’ wasn’t bad at all when you didn’t give a fuck what your counselors told you to do.

It was ridiculous, really. Absurd. Tommy Miller catching you sucking his brother’s dick under the table at your father’s birthday dinner, losing his shit with you both, then threatening to tell your dad everything if you didn’t agree to this stupid retreat and stop seeing each other. You’d barely been trapped in the shithole for twenty-four hours, and you already knew this angle wouldn’t work.

What many of your fellow campers affectionately called the ‘Firefly Fuck-Free Zone’ or the ‘Federal Dickriding Response Agency’ (F.E.D.R.A.) was in fact a secluded enclave south of Austin where khaki-clad monsters forced you to reckon with your sexual urges like one might treat a mutated strain of the Cordyceps fungus. You weren’t meant to keep them for long, and if you did, someone like Marlene would surely shame you for it.

Frankly, Tommy was dumb as shit if he thought this anti-boinking boot camp would have an effect on either one of you—Joel wouldn’t ever bang you again after what happened that night, but it wouldn’t be because of some arts and crafts bullshit he did out on a FEDRA ranch.

He just didn’t want your dad to find out and kill him.

That was a fair concern to have. You didn’t blame him.

Presently, you kicked your feet up on the porch outside the cafeteria, where the rest of the group was finishing up letters to their loved ones—this latest activity was meant to be ‘making amends’ to the people in your life—and you tipped your head back to survey the landscape.

Nothing but sweetgrass and gently rolling hills as far as the eye could see. Somewhere across the plains there was another cluster of cabins, though you couldn’t quite see it, and someplace within that minuscule cluster, you knew there was a middle-aged man. Dark grey eyebrows furrowed in concentration and chest heaving gently. Likely hunched over an old oak desk about five sizes too small for his frame as he gripped a pen and scribbled:

Dear Tommy,

Fuck you, you fucking fuck.

Sincerely,

Joel

You grinned again just thinking about it.

If anyone had a reason to be ticked off and terrified, it was Joel. And you, you guessed. You still hadn’t gotten your period—but that wasn’t due for another few days.

For now, you’d settled on worrying yourself over what would happen after the retreat had ended; what would you and Joel do once you went back to school? What would become of his life back in Austin with a supremely pissed off brother and a best friend who didn’t know his kid had been fooling around with a man twice her age?

Silently, you thanked your lucky stars Joel’s part of the camp was kept separate from yours, because you didn’t think you’d be able to keep a straight face if you saw him.

The whole thing was sickening, if not slightly funny.

You slipped Joel’s old pack of American Spirits out of your boot and fished in your back pocket for a lighter.

Then you crammed both back when you heard a boom:

“LAKESIDE GUIDED MEDITATION STARTS IN FIVE.”

The tinny intercom rang a deafening pitch in your ears. You clamped a palm over the left side of your head and winced, having forgotten this exercise in mindfulness was supposed to be the last event to wrap up your day. You just wanted to slink back up to your cabin and sleep. Or eat. Or slip your fingers between your aching legs and indulge in some much-needed Joel Miller reminiscing.

Then you recalled how masturbation was also off limits to all would-be sexaholic campers—if there was any time to sneak off and get busy by yourself while your counselors were otherwise occupied, now would be it.

Just as you cast a glance over your shoulder to see if a stealthy exit was even possible, a voice trilled overhead.

“On your feet, skank.”

You looked back fast, and damn did Tess look smug.

Your bunkmate crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the doorframe, seeming to feel your thoughts before they’d even been fully processed.

“If you skip meditation, I think Marlene’s gonna take you behind the rec and shoot you in the head,” she added.

“How kind.”

“Yeah? Certain death?”

“Better than the dick deprivation,” you grumbled, only half-kidding as you dragged yourself back to your feet.

Theresa Servopoulos was no avid fan of penis herself—she much preferred women when she had her pick of it—but she grinned all the same and clapped a comforting hand over your shoulder before the two of you started walking down the mess hall’s front steps. Then she only laughed a little bit when you almost ate shit treading down the winding rocky trail to the lake and cursed your present lack of intercourse for causing your clumsiness.

“You realize it’s only been, like…a day, right?” she said.

“Might as well be a million,” you muttered, “I feel like I’m never getting laid again.”

“Oh?”

Tess gripped your elbow when a root protruding from the path nearly sent you flying again. She tried not to smile.

“Well…my fake brother’s mad at me for going behind his back and fucking his brother,” you explained, coolly.

Stupidly.

“Wait—you fucked your brother?!”

That stopped Tess in her tracks. The two of you were approaching the cusp of a clearing, just feet away from where the forest gave way to the shoreline of the lake. Folks were already congregating at the water’s edge.

“Any day now, ladies,” Marlene called through cupped hands. Tess was still regarding you with eyes the size of saucers as you traipsed across the way to that voice.

“Not my brother,” you hissed.

“You said your brother’s brother. That makes this guy your brother, too,” Tess whispered—still far too loud.

“Not my actual brother, he’s just— fuck—”

Suddenly, two scraps of red fabric were catapulted in your direction. Tess caught one. You caught the other.

“Tie ‘em over your eyes.” Marlene ordered.

“The fuck?” you mumbled, but ventured nothing more as you were ushered to join the group sitting cross-legged on the ground in front of you. Everyone else was tying bandanas around their eyes like all of this was normal.

“Another trust exercise,” Tess’s voice was low as you dropped your asses one after the other on the sand. Speaking like a seasoned veteran of the anti-sex retreat, she helped you get yours on and shot you one last ‘You-better-not-have-actually-fucked-your-sibling’ look before letting you help her secure her blindfold, too.

Just as Marlene began describing in great detail what this blind, guided meditation in self-love and elemental trust was meant to look like, your friend opted to give voice to her concerns the second the opportunity arose.

Still seated side-by-side, still blind, Tess leaned over.

“Please tell me you’re not here for bangin’ your brother.”

You had to stifle a laugh.

“I am not.”

“Then explain, Cersei!”

Just then, a throat cleared behind you. Evidently another camp counselor at your rear was telling you, wordlessly, to shut the fuck up and listen to the instructions. You and Tess just scooted closer and lowered your voices.

“So this guy, Tommy…he’s been like a big brother to me for years. Worked with my dad and always had my back for the wild shit I did back in high school,” you began.

“Uh-huh.”

“His big brother, Joel, is like…old as shit, but wildly hot.”

“Dangerous combo.”

“And Joel’s my dad’s best friend. Drove me back from college over fall break when he was visiting Boston, we took a little motel detour on the road trip home, and bam—” You snapped your fingers for effect, “We fuck, right?”

“Right.”

“—imagine you’re standing at the edge of a waterfall—”

Marlene couldn’t be serious with this hippy dippy shit. You tuned out the rest of what she said and continued:

“It’s incredible. But the condom busts open at the end—”

“Oh shit.”

“—deep breath in…and release…and again, we—”

“Freak the fuck out, right? I’m poppin’ Plan B like candy.”

“As you should.”

“—hold that breath in right there—”

“A week later, me and Joel hook up at my dad’s birthday party. Only we fuck up, ‘cause Tommy catches us, and—”

This time, the counselor who’d cleared their throat to shut you up took to nudging you both in the back with the toe of their shoe. You straightened up, tilted your head back, and scowled at them through your blindfold.

“Do you mind?” you said, turning in place but unable to see anything behind you. You imagined whoever had just butted in on your conversation was probably frowning. They said nothing in return, just huffed like a child.

“Anyway.” You pivoted back to Tess, “Tommy flips his lid, tells us he’s gonna snitch on us to my dad if we keep fucking around like that, and then he…sends us here.”

You heard your friend fight back a chuckle beside you.

“And abstinence camp is supposed to cure you of this awful disease? Wanting to fuck daddy’s best friend?”

Oddly, you wanted to giggle too. You weren’t sure what was so funny, or why Tess’s tone made you want to say something equally out of pocket and lewd, but then you were leaning over before you could even think twice:

“That old man’s dick is like a fuckin’ drug, dude.”

You wished you could’ve seen her face when you said it. But you didn’t need to catch a single glimpse to know she was grinning big and dumb when she whispered,

“Prehistoric cock must’ve been pretty nice, huh?”

You choked. She snorted. You returned, next, shortly,

“Best senior citizen schlong I’ve had in my life.”

You weren’t sure which one of you burst out laughing first. Maybe Tess. Probably you. Either way, both of your sides were splitting in seconds, as the ridiculous and just marginally offensive descriptors for Joel’s dick trembled at the tips of your tongues. You felt like a teenager again, telling your friend your filthiest desires for the DILF-next-door—except this time, you’d actually fucked him. Small perks to seeking out middle-aged men in your twenties. You had to clamp your hand over your mouth to rein in the peals of laughter as Tess wheezed quietly beside you.

Then you felt hands.

Two palms under your armpits, yanking you up.

You stumbled back, graceless and still staving off half a laugh as your back struck the counselor’s chest.

“Just…take her back up.” You heard a female’s voice to your left, low and not sounding particularly amused.

Take you where? Was this the part where Marlene dragged you behind the rec and shot you in the head?

About damn time.

Whoever had grabbed you grunted in acknowledgment. You swayed in their arms, trying to regain better footing, but the grip tightened up in a second and thrust you sideways. You staggered, cursing your captor.

“Fucker,” you hissed.

Fucker said nothing.

Their hands slipped from your pits to one of your wrists, leading you away from the lake in long strides. You were moving so fast you scarcely had the chance to pull the blindfold back, so you just kept walking. Marching.

“Can you slow the fuck down, please?”

You imagined the face of the person leading you forward might’ve twisted in a scowl. Their lips didn’t stir, though.

In a matter of minutes, your feet were crunching on the flat, gravelly terrain you knew to lay under the cabins. This person was leading you back. Likely to throw you off to your room in the next several moments—but not before ripping you a new one for disrupting the peace back down at the lake. You weren’t stoked to hear it.

“Alright, just—” You tripped as you were led up the rickety steps, cursing again, “—just leave me right here.”

A set of knuckles at your spine thrust you forward.

“No? Okay. Fine. Whatever.”

You shook your head as you entered the cabin and heard footsteps follow you in. It occurred to you then that now was probably a good time to take off the blindfold.

Before you could, though, it was ripped off for you.

“Pack your shit.”

Dude.

You spun on your heels.

“DUDE!”

Your eyes moved up the very khaki shorts you despised, the puke-colored polo, the neatly embroidered camp logo, and a nametag strangely labeled ‘Lucien Flores.’ Everything in the ensemble screamed ‘camp counselor.’ But the face above it—it wasn’t one of their own at all.

It was far too lax. Fresh with an easy, shit-eating grin.

“Sweetheart—”

He started to speak, only to get the wind knocked out of his chest when you threw your arms around him.

The barrage of kisses came without you ever really intending to place them at all. You were just so stunned, practically overcome with joy to see Joel Miller in all his ruggedly handsome glory, then confused. What was he doing here, and why was he dressed head-to-toe as a counselor? And why were you so into that on him?

You doubted you could even ask the questions, and he was barely more able to answer the longer you stayed latched to his neck, kissing him everywhere your mouth could get to. You’d just stood on tip-toes to press your lips to his when you realized he wasn’t reaching back.

His hands hung limply at his sides. Still, he smiled.

“Abstinence camp ain’t taught ya much, has it?”

You parted your lips to drag your teeth along the grey-spattered scruff on his cheek—biting but not quite. Begging him to kiss you back, grab your ass, anything to quell this anguish twisting low in your stomach at the lack of contact. Joel didn’t seem keen on answering to it.

“I’ve learned plenty, Miller,” you panted against his jaw, before moving below it to sink into the skin of his neck, “Lemme show you all the stuff FEDRA told us not to do.”

Yes, you sounded desperate. No, you didn’t really care. You were much too busy fiddling with the front of Joel’s shorts to concern yourself with anything but his cock. It made it all the more gut-wrenchingly horrific and disconcerting when you felt his hands push yours away.

“No,” Joel said, simply. Then, nodding to your luggage at the foot of your bunk, “Pack your stuff, sweets. C’mon.”

He was seriously trying to break you out?

You admired the cojones on the man, but you wanted to fuck real quick to get it out of your system. Needed it.

“Joel, I—” You swallowed thickly, shaking your head.

What your mouth couldn’t finish, your eyes said clear as day: I want you to take me right here. Quick and dirty. But, again, Joel seemed completely impervious to your pleas. Almost callous in the face of such a desperate request made from your eyes to his. He moved over toward your suitcase when you didn’t want to budge.

Luckily for you, you’d never unpacked. All that was left were the clothes on your back and a water bottle on the nightstand. Joel grabbed the latter and turned around to snag the suitcase on his way to the door, when he was met with you. Obstructing his path and frowning a little.

“Joel?” You raised a brow.

“Mm?”

The man in front of you straightened up, rolling a nonexistent kink from his neck before regarding you.

His gaze was alarmingly sedate.

“Y’know, you’ve got quite the knack for makin’ shit difficult—”

“Just a quickie, Miller—”

“I ain’t fuckin’ you here!”

The sudden boom of his voice should’ve startled you. But then a broad, warm palm came to rest on your shoulder, and Joel’s expression dropped immediately. There was still a tightness to it, somewhere deep within, and you couldn’t quite work out why he seemed so…off.

Then you caught sight of something steely in his gaze.

It just might’ve clicked if Joel didn’t reach for your face and elucidate things for you himself, eyes narrowing.

“I know my old man dick is like a fuckin’ drug and all…”

Shit.

Cheeks squished between his two big hands, you had only to stare. And blink. And silently regret being so loud when you were talking to Tess before. It didn’t look good.

“Joel—”

“No, no, my senile brain must be mistaken—it was actually that prehistoric cock that did it for ya.”

Your face heated with shame. You blinked again.

But just as you tried to shake your head between Joel’s hands, he pressed his palms tighter and drew you closer.

“Senior. citizen. schlong?” he intoned, painfully slow.

“Joel, I just—”

“Need to fuck someone your own age, it sounds like.”

The man in front of you released your face just as fast as he’d grabbed it, and when he stepped back, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of desperation. That wasn’t what you’d meant! It sounded so puerile and cruel coming out of his lips like this, but you had to tell him it was a joke.

“It was a joke.”

No time to mince words now.

“Real fuckin’ comedic genius,” Joel snorted.

He rolled his eyes and tried to sidestep you, but you mirrored the movement. When your hands flew to his chest to keep him from moving, please, just listen to me, Joel, he pretended not to hear it, or feel it, against him.

“Alright. Enough,” he muttered, “‘S’time to go home.”

“No!”

“No?”

“No.”

For the first time, you saw Joel’s nostrils flare. You pressed into his sternum again, hoping to hold him in place so you could explain yourself, but it seemed he wasn’t planning on staying stationary. Joel dropped to your bunk—or Tess’s, technically—and situated himself comfortably on the bed before shooting you a look. You barely had had a moment’s time to contemplate your next move when he yanked you onto the cot with him.

Joel didn’t try to kiss you. He didn’t attempt to remove one article of clothing from your body or his. He just sat there, staring, while you straddled his hips staring back.

“If you wanna fuck me so bad, go right ahead,” he said, motioning indistinctly in front of him, “Be my guest.”

When you stilled, he added, “That is all y’want, right?”

With your palms laying flat on his chest and a head full of conflicting thoughts—you did want to bang him, obviously, but not before you’d gotten a chance to set things straight, not when he was looking at you like this—you chewed your bottom lip. Certainly you couldn’t continue while Joel still believed you were embarrassed by his age, his lips downturned and humorless as ever.

“C’mon,” he tried again, a touch more venom laced in his words as he spoke, “Show me how much ya want it.”

You needed time to think.

“Why are you…dressed like this?” you said, stalling.

But Joel wouldn’t be kind enough to give you that time.

“Stole the uniform so I could sneak out and over here and get you out. Are we gonna fuck now or what?”

His hands moved over your own to guide them to his lower half, just above where your clothed core was touching his. Your fingers moved mechanically, almost reluctantly, to undo the button and zip of his shorts.

Was that a flash of hurt you saw in his eyes?

You’d never been good at this communication bullshit. Neither had Joel. The two of you would probably just have sex now to hash out your feelings, as was par for the course for a pair of emotionally stunted individuals. It still pained you to see him look at you like that, though.

“Tess and me were just kidding, baby.”

You palmed the bulge in his boxers and heard him grunt. When you nudged his cock out of the fabric to stroke him, his eyes fluttered shut and he sucked in a breath.

“I would never say those things to hurt you,” you added.

“Didn’t hurt me none,” Joel returned instantly. Then, feeling you flick the pad of your thumb over the head of his cock, he exhaled and held his face firm in place. Like he didn’t want you to see the effect you had on him.

You let go of his cock to take off your socks and shoes. Then your top. Then your shorts. Then you slid down his body a little, unsure if this was the time to be trying something new. Or even doing this kind of stuff at all.

At first, you just sort of lowered yourself to Joel’s groin, his dick resting comfortably between your tits. Then you started to move, and your hands were cupping either side of your breasts to push inward on his member. Before you even fully knew what you were doing, you were squeezing Joel’s dick with the soft, supple flesh and stroking him gently. Gaze glued to him all the while.

His eyes cracked open to catch you watching him. Evidently, Joel couldn’t contain all of his reactions, because he audibly groaned when you got going.

Sliding your tits up and down his shaft, feeling him pulse between them. Sensing a warmth pool in your own lower half but being too focused, and slightly ashamed, to act. You just wanted to make Joel feel good, even if your words weren’t able to do the trick with apologizing.

“Come here,” you beckoned him with just one finger as you slid off the bed, to the floor. Joel sat up, and you kneeled obediently between his legs. The two of you shared a tense, sexless look for a second before you lowered yourself back down and resumed the position.

This time, Joel could—and did—stir his hips to create some friction between your tits. His brow pinched inward with a muted concentration, and you wanted to say it looked handsome on him, that you were sorry for saying those stupid things to Tess and making him doubt your affection for him, but you kept your mouth shut. You had to remind yourself that emotions had no place between two needy, unfeeling people who just wanted to fuck.

Maybe that was how it should’ve been from the start.

But watching Joel’s face twist and contort in pleasure nearly wiped the thought clean out of your brain forever.

You felt many things for him, whether you liked it or not.

You really wished you hadn’t said the things you’d said.

Joel braced his hands at the edge of the bed on either side of him, hips working a steady pace to fuck your tits. He was staring mostly at the spot where the head of his cock was poking up through your cleavage with each thrust, entranced by the sight, and in a second, a full-throated moan was fighting its way out of his chest. He spit in his hand and paused to smear the stuff on his shaft, on your tits. Spit again and rubbed even harder.

Seeing him so cold and detached, you wanted to apologize again. Maybe beg him to say something kind.

Instead, you mumbled, “I love it when you fuck my tits.”

Joel scarcely acknowledged the remark, just letting you work yourself over him, meet his shallow thrusts, look sweet and wait patiently for him to cum all over you. When it seemed he might be ready to do it, though, Joel withdrew from you the next second and moved back on the bed. He pulled you into his lap, straddling again, but this time situated over the side of the bed—him sitting up, you perched on the flat, sturdy expanse of his thighs facing him. In the space between your bodies, Joel slid a quiet and almost careless hand to your heat, flicking the sheer fabric of your panties to the side in one go.

The moment his fingers made contact, you flinched.

It wasn’t that you were opposed to his touch, you just felt unfairly balanced in this situation. Joel appeared so stoic; you, a complete and utter wreck. Fighting fifteen different emotions at once and feeling unusually vulnerable spread open to him now, you almost didn’t register what he was doing—or what his hand might find.

Joel’s groan brought you back, though. When he rubbed his knuckles over the seam of your cunt and practically choked out twice his lung’s capacity, you had to look.

Aloof as he tried to be, the man’s desire was painted all over his expression. And his crotch. And his hand.

Well, actually, that last bit of arousal was yours.

“Fuckin’ soakin’ me, sweetie,” Joel breathed.

You perked up at the term of endearment. Watching one glistening fist of his make its way back and forth against your body, smearing sticky wet pleasure all over your mound and your folds, you found yourself gnawing your lip once more, this time for entirely different reasons.

Joel seemed to soften—even if only for a glaring carnal need, you didn’t care. You sank into this gentler touch.

“Khakis kinda suit you, Miller,” you said, off-handed.

Really, Joel looked almost as comical as he was sexy in that camp counselor getup: tan shorts stretched tight over even tanner legs, polyester top sitting pretty on wide, hulking shoulders, that silly stitched logo for the camp emblazoned over his left pec, and, of course, the nametag that didn’t belong to him but to Lucien. The whole thing was so alien to his lumberjack-chic demeanor that he nearly seemed boyish. Endearing. Some spearmint-scented hottie you might’ve had a crush on at camp years ago. You couldn’t help but smile.

Joel tried not to hold your gaze for too long.

“Don’t go pissin’ down my back and tell me it’s rainin’.”

When he slid one finger to your entrance, you tensed again, but smiled just the same and let out a breath. You felt him prod at the warm, wet skin and thumb at your clit, and something told you that he’d wanted to grin too.

“I’m serious,” you said, “Scout’s hon—ohfuckfuckfuck.”

Joel pushed one finger inside you. In spite of the ease with which he slipped between your walls, that gentle sensation made it wonderfully snug. He gripped your hip and started moving his single digit in and out, and in spite of yourself, you squirmed a bit. Joel never failed to call you out for doing that; today would be no different.

“Easy, sweet pea,” he hummed when you jumped again.

But you couldn’t help it. Your hands quickly anchored themselves to Joel’s shoulders, your legs spread wider, and your hips started stirring—bucking, really—against each teasing touch. It was still just one thick finger of his.

You glanced down and saw that it was his middle finger, in particular. The double meaning wasn’t lost on you.

“Another,” you pleaded.

“Nuh-uh.”

“You’re a mean ol— mean man.” You tried to correct course when you felt a mention of ‘old’ slip back into your vernacular, and inwardly, you cringed at your words.

Joel had already heard it. He cocked one eyebrow.

“Mean ol’ man?” he scoffed, still fingerfucking you softly. When you bucked against it, he nodded as if to say ‘fair enough.’

Then, before you could chime in, he nodded some more.

His expression was hard.

“Fuck my hand,” he said.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

You weren’t quite sure what he meant for you to do. When he nodded a third time, the gesture was accompanied by a quick dart of his eyes to the place where your cunt was being penetrated by his one finger. He curled the finger inward, and when you twitched at the hot throb of pleasure that followed, he grunted.

Fuck my hand.

Nails still searing tiny half-moons into his shoulders, you acted more out of impulse than by command. The look from Joel sure didn’t hurt, though. The second you started rolling your hips, he nodded again. Holding onto his praises for now and simply showing approbation.

“Like that,” he murmured.

All you were doing was rocking back and forth over his finger, whimpers percolating quietly in your chest, but the act alone made you feel desperate. And Joel smug.

It was like he wanted to see you getting off to this one, comparatively smaller part of him without being filled. Bucking plaintively to find that fullness and coming back empty every time. Your whimpers turned into whines.

“Need more,” you keened.

“Yeah?” Joel replied gently.

“Yeah.”

A beat, then:

“Tough shit.”

But he said it so goddamn sweet you had to do a double take to make sure you’d heard him correctly. When you met Joel’s eyes, you saw a hint of amusement lingering behind them. Then he squeezed your hip again and started helping you move into his hand, up and down.

“Only givin’ more fingers to good girls, y’hear?” he said.

“What about your cock?” You couldn’t help it.

Joel just breathed out through his nose. In a second, he went from camp counselor to disapproving father figure.

“Greedy little thing, ain’t ya?”

That was all he needed to say, but the firm plunge of his middle finger certainly put a finer point on it. He curled the digit again and, upon grazing that spongy surface inside you, saw another desperate plea in your eyes.

And pleasure.

The pleasure ran almost as intense as the desperation.

Your head fell back when Joel got to making those ‘come hither’ motions again and again, thumb circling your clit, eyes trained on your figure with a marked concern. Like the prospect of not drawing an orgasm out of you in the next two minutes might very well ruin the man’s night.

“‘S’alright, honey,” Joel said quietly.

Then, finding your gaze when your head tilted back,

“Be a good girl and let go for me. Let go for daddy, hm?”

Fortunately for him, that one low hum and another flick of his middle finger and thumb were all you needed to find your release. You came on his hand with a sharp, pitiful cry and a ‘Fuckthatfeelssogooddaddyplease,’ hips working feverishly against his hand as you rode out your high. The sight of you bouncing up and down on his open palm and the way your eyes rolled back, begging him to fuck you full of his cock next, felt wildly obscene.

Joel loved obscene. Needed obscene. Hot. Febrile. Raw.

He nodded again.

Before you’d even descended fully from those staggering heights, his finger was moving too—joined by two more. Joel stuffed his index and ring fingers inside your still-pulsing hole and pretended not to hear your soft cry.

After all, you’d asked for more before. Joel was just sating your desire; your overwrought body would be fine.

“Joel,” you hissed, seizing his wrist.

“Too much?” he returned.

You tried to verbalize some answer but were cut short by a punishing stretch—all three fingers plunging in and out of your sensitive, drooling cunt and making it full of him.

“Too soon?” he tried again.

“I—”

“Too fast?”

“N—”

“Too…old?” Joel pressed after a beat.

There was an air of feigned condescension in his tone as he took on a faster pace gliding his thick, calloused fingers between your walls. You might’ve screamed if you hadn’t found your forehead pressed to his and the warmth of his irises boring into yours while he did it all. At this distance, you could discern a trace of hurt again. Something needing to be soothed inside Joel Miller.

You rutted your hips and shook your head, skull still stuck to his as you did so. Whimpers coming low.

“I didn’t…mean it,” you managed at length.

“What? That I’m ‘old as shit but wildly hot’?”

Joel wedged his fingers straight down to the knuckle and nearly tore a shriek out of your body. His eyes were surprisingly soft. Making sure your pleasure was all there.

“Hyperbole,” you choked, voice hoarse.

Then your jaw grew lax when a hand cupped your chin. All you wanted to do was melt into Joel, but you sensed something brewing again behind those honeyed eyes. Blinking was all you could do to keep your composure.

“You’re right, darlin’,” Joel said, “I am too old for you.”

Right after a clench in your tummy, a hurried word leapt up to your tongue, ‘NO!’ and you had to swallow a moan to keep from succumbing to the pleasure Joel was bringing with his fingers. Sandwiched between two orgasms was no time for a serious argument to take place, but there you were, fighting against it anyway.

“N-No,” you stammered. Stupid.

“I am.” His voice came softer somehow, more resigned.

When outright rejection of the claim seemed futile, you tried to pivot. Climax still closing in as fast as ever.

“I don’t care about that,” you hissed, exhaling hard when the first ripples of bliss crept up toward your stomach.

Joel watched you with careful eyes.

“Yeah? And Tess?”

“Joel—”

“Or Tommy.”

“I don’t—”

“Everyone else?”

Almost against your will, those minuscule ripples turned to waves of full-blown euphoria, and then you were clenching again on Joel’s hand and crying out in climax. You willed your gaze not to stray from his, but it was tough. Especially when the eyes beneath your own seemed so fucking morose and removed from you.

Don’t do this to me, Miller. Don’t do it, don’t do it.

In the wake of what should’ve been consummate satisfaction, you found yourself retreating to a place more akin to starvation—suddenly eager to get your mouth over his and start kissing, tonguing, and scraping your teeth like you’d missed out on a full week’s worth of meals. Feeling selfish but also uncertain how else to proceed—was Joel Miller breaking up with you here?

You couldn’t be sure, because he kissed you back. Joel kissed you and cupped your cheeks, then chased your frame all the way down to the coarse, scratchy sheets of the bed, where he was quick to climb on top of you.

Hell, it seemed breathing was too tough to accomplish with your frenzied pace and the continuous stream of open-mouthed kisses placed anywhere and everywhere. A groan from Joel trembled between your lips as you helped him get his shorts and boxers the rest of the way down his legs—all but dragging them with your heels—and he tightened a fist in your hair when they were off.

“I shouldn’t’a come here,” he mumbled.

“But you did,” you panted.

Both of you got lost in another onslaught of kisses, and you tried not to sigh. Joel was still battling something.

Even as he peeled your panties off and lined himself up with your entrance, he seemed resolved to stay quiet. Holding your gaze and not saying what had to be said.

He was a lot like you in that way.

You kept kissing him anyway.

The events that followed seemed to you little more than fleeting, happy scenes from a film you’d always wanted to see—an eager Joel, a caring Joel, an I-don’t-think-I’m-physically-capable-of-holding-you-any-closer Joel. The weight of his cock a welcome friend and the kisses somehow far too intimate to be considered friendly at all. You’d almost forgotten you were at a camp designed to prevent this very thing from happening between two stupid, impulsive people like you, and you didn’t care.

All you knew was a yawning stretch—that aching, empty void filled to perfection by Joel’s member—and the shockwaves of pleasure that vibrated in bands all the way down to the balls of your feet. You felt safe and secure caged between two muscular arms, and you reveled in a warmth that spanned every inch of your body touching his. The weight suffocating and somehow not oppressive; Joel cradled your head to make sure of it.

“Ain’t…hurtin’ ya, am I?” he said when you winced.

You shook your head against his sweaty palms to say that he wasn’t; you were just adjusting. He scanned your face for any trace of insincerity but found nothing.

In this tender position, your brain was ready to burst—whether from guilt, shame, ruthless self-loathing, or a sobering sense of closeness, you weren’t sure. All four seemed to form the impetus for the words that came next, which were soft, repeated apologies against Joel’s mouth. He swallowed each one without a second thought.

“Quit sayin’ it,” he rasped, low.

“I’m sorry, Joel, I’m sorr—”

Soft lips again. ‘S’okay, honey.’

You weren’t sure why, but your face felt extra hot.

Joel pressed his thumbs on either side of it while he kissed you and went deeper. Then he squeezed even more, and your breath hitched quietly in your throat.

Aw, shit, he could probably feel your heart running amok in your chest and thrumming like crazy right now.

“Ain’t nothin’—” Joel paused to send one measured thrust along your cervix, “—to be sorry for. Nothin’.”

Your legs tightened at his sides when his hips started to snap in quick, stuttered motions, desperate for more friction and depth. He got both, and he groaned feeling you tighten around him as he filled your cunt to the brim. The silky warmth of your walls drawing him in was almost too much, and every now and then he’d have to slow to mutter some, ‘’S’fuckin’ chokin’ me, honey, ya feel that?’ or ‘This pussy’s just made to take me, huh?’

Joel asked like he actually needed the reassurance. As if the slick, dripping arousal coating his length and the sounds of your whimpers mixed in with those wet slaps weren’t enough—as if he had to have deeper consolation.

He was splitting you open and looked guilty as he did it.

Still shaking with each thrust, you helped him slide his shirt over his head and bring him bare, chest-to-chest with you. You couldn’t ignore the tension any longer.

“Joel, I fuckin’ love— I need you inside,” you managed.

“You do?”

“Uh-huh.”

His face softened.

“‘S’mine, isn’t it?”

He said it so fast you couldn’t make out if it were really a question or a simple statement of fact. His balls routinely smacking your ass, eyes searching yours, always gentle.

“Say that you’re mine.”

No, Joel—don’t do that, don’t say it like that.

Your visceral reaction was to recoil. You couldn’t because he had you pinned, but damn did you want to—not him, not this, not now, Joel, why would you fucking say that?

The look in his eyes now surpassed the hurt from before. It was open and aching, even as he drilled your body in two at a near-ruthless pace. Asking you so sincerely.

The obstinacy inside you was almost laughable. Damn near sent your head spinning in a fit of hysterics at how much you wanted to say but wouldn’t; how much you sensed lay waiting to fly off Joel’s tongue but couldn’t. If you were any more emotionally pent-up you might’ve ruptured a blood vessel and lost all ability to think.

It didn’t help that you were both about to cum.

Or that Joel’s right hand was fumbling for your clit.

His expression was steady as ever when you jumped, made a whining noise below him, and grabbed his wrist. You looked down to where your bodies were joined and got a dizzying glimpse of that sight: cunt swallowing Joel’s cock repeatedly, pleasure pooling between your two bodies, then a digit at that little bundle of nerves.

He kissed your hairline and hummed.

“C’mon, pretty girl. Whose pussy is this?”

His thrusts sped up, along with his thumb.

“Don’t.” Not an answer but a warning: tread lightly, Joel.

He kissed your forehead again. And again. For a second you thought he might stay that way until you both came, but then his lips were finding yours, mumbling softly,

“Say no one’s gonna fuck you but me.”

“But—”

“None of those pencil-dick douchebag Delta Sigma whatever-the-fuck ya call ‘ems—” Joel continued, unfazed, “—not your lab partner, not your hallmate—”

His cock was gliding in and out of you at a punishing pace now. Wonderfully slick with sounds obscenely piercing to your ears. You could feel Joel digging in the depths of your tight, throbbing cunt, could see his expression contort with much the same pleasure you were experiencing yourself, and could very well smell the faint aroma of American Spirits still staining his breath. Joel Miller was a sick fuck for what he was doing to you, and he knew it. You nipped at his lower lip in between tender kisses and quietly-spoken words, and whimpered.

“—not your TAs, not your professors—” he pressed on.

You opened your mouth to let a lewd moan escape when Joel lifted his hand to shove a thumb inside. Instinctively, you sucked the whole thing straight down to the knuckle.

“Nobody but me, y’hear that?” Afforded better leverage with his finger wedged between your teeth, he shook your head a little as he fucked you. Watched you bob and nod a wordless ‘yes’ in doe-eyed complaisance while his cock drove shockwaves of pleasure straight through you.

He rubbed his thumb back and forth, and you let him.

You drooled all over that man’s finger like it might’ve been supplying oxygen to your lungs, and when Joel leaned in and said, ‘Ya like that, sweet pea?’, you answered in the affirmative. Or at least as close as you could get while Joel was filling up his two favorite holes.

Your orgasm was maybe two strokes away from shattering bones, it seemed. Now was his chance.

Swiftly, Joel retracted his touch just far enough to drag a string of saliva out of your mouth—then deliver a taut but gentle slap to your cheek. The soft thwack, combined with the sounds your bodies were making down below, served only to elevate the pornographic pitch of your moan:

“Joel!”

“That’s right.”

Joel’s mouth hovered an inch over yours, half-smirking, as if waiting to suck the words clean off of your lips. You whined when his thrusts got quicker and the mouth that was grinning got to kissing your own again. Talking dirty, too.

“Show me who this cunt belongs to. Say it,” he grunted.

You clenched, kissed him back, were just barely aware of the words you were trying to form when you stuttered some unintelligible, ‘Y-Y—ohfuckdaddyjustlikethatoh—’

Oh.

Your eyes widened to Joel’s, and before you could even begin to process what was happening to your body, his name just snapped off your tongue like a shot. A shriek. Some blissfully half-strangled moan that Joel captured between his teeth as he fucked you into the mattress and held your body tight to his own. His palm was wet.

Your legs were wet.

The soft, heaving juncture between your bodies was wet.

You were only dimly aware of the sensation as you dug your heels in Joel’s back and let out a series of cries and moans, but then that fluttering feeling inside made you flinch. A pulsing between your thighs and a…warmth.

You were still blinking through a post-euphoric haze when you felt a soft heat simmer and sink within you.

Did Joel just…cum inside you? Again?

“You dumb motherfucker,” you hissed without hesitation.

You’d just managed to shove him away—not far, but away—when you scrambled into a sitting position and slapped a hand over your stomach. Expecting to feel a churning and an awful pinch as you came to make out some vague sensation of Joel’s seed painting your insides, you were surprised when you didn’t get it at all.

In point of fact, Joel had just sprayed a full Jackson Pollock onto your stomach and was blinking, still fisting his cock as you quickly made your way back to your feet.

Where was that wetness coming from?

You stood and stared down at your stomach. Your legs. The translucent, trickling something that had paved a clear path between your thighs and all over Joel’s front. It didn’t make sense, unless—

“You fuckin’ squirted!” Joel cheered.

Your first instinct was to make a face.

That shit only happened in poorly produced pornos and movies based on books by Colleen Hoover, not real-life human beings. What the hell was this man on about?

“Be fucking serious,” you scowled, reaching for a stray shirt on the floor. Before realizing it was even yours, you hastily swiped several big globs of Joel’s cum with it. Your face grew even more enflamed, and yourself, oddly…ashamed. You couldn’t quite make sense of why Joel was grinning so big, or why you felt so embarrassed by what appeared to be a natural bodily function, but you suspected it probably had something to do with the state of sex education in Texas. Those fuckers definitely skipped squirting in favor of abstinence-only rhetoric.

Still weird. Still gross. You wished Joel would stop smiling.

“Lose the look or I’ll slap that fuckin’ grey off your head.”

Admittedly, neither aftercare nor communication was your métier. You started throwing on clothes, annoyed.

Meanwhile, Joel was swiping moisture off his abdomen three thick fingers at a time and wiggling the residue up for you to see—‘All it is is a sign of good lovin’, sweets, ain’t nothin’a be ashamed of!’—and you gave him just one finger in return. You were sliding your shorts up your legs and attempting to scrap the jizz off your FEDRA top when Joel started shrugging on his stolen clothes, too.

Your back was turned to him, eyes scanning the almost too-calm outdoors through the window a minute later, when you felt an arm snake close around your waist.

“Tastes a little like honey,” Joel crooned in your ear, doubtlessly smirking as he swayed you, “Only sweeter.”

You rolled your eyes. No cunt tasted like a honeycomb.

And you tried to say as much when he stroked over the strip of exposed skin between your shorts and the hem of your shirt, squeezing you tighter, but Joel was too good. He spidered a teasing touch over your tummy and yanked you back into his chest when you squealed and tried to break free. Then your sides, your ribcage, your shoulder blades—anyplace Joel could tickle, he tried to—and most spots, you were squeamish as hell. You clamped a hand over your half-open, giggling mouth, and when you felt him flip you around, you didn’t protest.

Suddenly, Joel’s hands were on either side of your face. He wasn’t smiling quite so big anymore but nevertheless maintained a kind glint behind his eyes. They were soft.

“‘M’sorry,” he said.

Then, pausing as if to consider his words, he said,

“You did great.”

He stopped again to press a kiss on the tip of your nose.

“So good.”

When he saw another smile twitch at the corners of your lips, as though asking him for more, he kissed those too.

“If that was your first time with…that…I’m, uh…”

“What?”

Another beat. Another stupid, stubbled grin.

“The luckiest…senior citizen sonovabitch, I guess.”

At the tail end of that, and once Joel had punctuated his sentence with another tender peck, you met his gaze again. Somehow, it had only gotten softer. His thumbs were searing the gentlest of imprints in the apples of your cheeks, his breaths were even and warm, and if you hadn’t known any better, you might’ve thought the man was contemplating saying something else to you then.

He didn’t.

The bridge to an old Billy Joel song made sure of that.

“And when she’s walkin’, she’s lookin’ so f-i-i-i-ine.”

You heard gravel crunch outside the cabin.

“And when she’s talkin’, she’ll say that she’s m-i-i-i-ine.”

Footsteps bounding up the half-rotted, cedar steps.

“She’ll say I’m not so tough just because I’m in love wi—SHIT.”

Tess’s face went blank the second the door swung open.

Thankfully, both of you were clothed. You and Joel leapt apart like she’d just caught you in doggy, though. And Tess looked like she might’ve seen an asscheek or two with the way she was staring at you both, letting the screen door slam shut, and a wordless ‘what-the-fuck’ caught somewhere in the tepid air between you three.

You stared at Tess, and Tess stared at you. Joel peered over her shoulder for the arrival of any more onlookers or folks just wanting to sing ‘Uptown Girl’ in your general vicinity. Fortunately, no one else appeared behind her.

But Tess looked awestruck enough for fifty people. She blinked and visibly swallowed as her gaze shifted to Joel.

“So FEDRA does dick appointments now?” she hissed.

“No!”

“I’m not—”

“He’s from the other camp.”

“You’re shitting me. Absolutely shitting me right now.”

You brought both hands to your face in a stifling, quiet desperation, unsure what to do. Joel just blinked back.

“I’m—we’re—” he started.

“Fucking!” Tess bit back, “You are so fucking. Raw.”

She wasn’t wrong. Her sixth sense for knowing who was having clandestine sex in her bed was kind of insane.

But, where you expected a look of horror to crawl into those taut, too-smart-for-her-own-good features, you found your bunkmate starting to raise her eyebrows.

Then laugh.

Tess threw her head back and laughed because she thought you were boinking a FEDRA camp counselor.

Joel shared a similar look of surprise but didn’t laugh.

“Yeah, I’m uh…J—” Again, he made as if to speak, to introduce himself, but Tess cut him off. About to wheeze.

“Lucien Flores, you dirty dog!” she cackled.

Joel glanced down at his nametag, started to shake his head, and probably didn’t anticipate Tess smacking him on the shoulder in a semi-congratulatory sort of way. Given a little more muscle to the playful punch, she just might’ve knocked him over. Joel was then trying to pry the pin off his polo just as you stepped closer to her.

“Tess, he’s…” You considered spilling the beans en masse but quickly decided against it. You’d have to stick to the barest of bones if you had any hope of escaping this place. So, resuming, you squeezed her arm and just said:

“Flores is gonna bust us out. Get your shit and we’ll go.”

Theresa Servopoulos didn’t need to be told twice.

And when she scrambled over to her sex-stricken bunk, inquired with a hurried but patently grossed out expression about who the fuck had wet the bed while she was gone, Joel didn’t hesitate—he said it was him.

“FEDRA man with a piss kink. I like you already, Lucien.”