#both these pieces are about my relationship with my sight | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cherienymphe · 4 months ago

Text

Pity Party

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: NON-CON/DUB-CON (+ mentions of), toxic/abusive relationship, mentions of manipulation, dad!Rafe, established Rafe x reader

➥ While this can absolutely be read as a stand alone piece, it is also the much requested follow up to my WTPO series. I hope this doesn't disappoint!

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | ➥ divider by @firefly-graphics

summary: You became the envy of every woman in Kildare County the day you became Mrs. Rafe Cameron.

⭑

You slid along the floor using your knees, hand occupied by an even tinier one as your son unsteadily put one foot in front of the other. Your lips were pulled into a smile as you watched him, your free hand hovering behind his back for when he very likely would fall. Your other son was occupied with a snack, and when—as expected—the youngest one’s legs gave out, you scooped him up with a giggle.

“Look at you,” you cooed. “You’re going to be sprinting by this weekend.”

His cherubic face smiled back at you, lips wet with drool, and you wiped his mouth with a smile. Your oldest—now done with his Goldfish—was currently tugging on your dress, and when you looked down at him, he had a wide grin on his face.

“I wanna play with him…”

His soft voice had your own expression softening, and you quietly told him ‘okay’, taking a seat right on the floor where you were formerly standing. You emptied your hands, letting your son crawl around and slap at the ground as his brother followed him, face so close to his as he whispered things to him that he didn’t quite understand yet. You let your mind wander, warmth blooming in your chest as you thought about how…sweet they were.

There had been a time where you feared they wouldn’t be.

…and as you stared at them, you almost felt bad for ever thinking they could be anything less than angels, but it couldn’t be helped. They were children, and there were very few things in this world that were more innocent than children. They both came out squirming and pudgy and perfect—screaming their heads off and only calming once they were in your arms. They came into this world looking at you with the kind of eyes that had never experienced or done a single bad thing in their life.

They were children…babies…

…but they were Rafe’s babies.

And as much as you would like to, you would never be able to forget how they both came to be here. Fighting off Rafe Cameron was hard enough when you were going through a tumultuous breakup, but it became damn near impossible once he managed to get a ring on your finger and a prison around you in the form of a fancy house. You looked down at the large rock, a pang going through your chest at the sight of a simple gold band below it.

The wedding had been the grand fanfare it was expected to be, serving it’s purpose of making you the envy of every woman in Kildare County. Your oldest son—having been an only child at the time—was pulled down the aisle in a wagon with a pillow in his lap that contained the rings. Rose had gushed over you in the dressing room, long having convinced herself no woman would ever marry Rafe and she’d never get to experience this. Your father had cried as he handed you off to your husband to be, and tears had kissed your own eyes but just for an entirely different reason.

Your dress was made for a princess, and your veil was made for an angel, and your makeup was made for a doll. Everything was perfect, everything going off without a hitch. Absolutely nothing—not a single thing—had gone wrong, and even though by that point you’d slowly started to accept your fate…something in you had hoped. For what? You weren’t entirely sure.

You’d hoped that some crazy ex girlfriend of Rafe’s would stand up and object. You’d hoped that your brother would go against your wishes and drag you away from it all. Hell, you’d even hoped that someone would choke on their spit and require an ambulance. Deep down though, you’d known what you really hoped for.

You had hoped that Rafe would do the right thing…and let you go.

It was a silly hope. Rafe Cameron had gone through entirely too much trouble to ensure you’d never leave him, even going as far as threatening to take your son away from you. He—both of them—was the only good thing to come out of this. From the first moment you laid eyes on him, you’d wanted him all for yourself and far away from Rafe. The brunette simply didn’t deserve him, and you had no doubt that Rafe would agree, but his selfishness outweighed any thought of doing what was right. That had always been the case.

You didn’t know why you thought your wedding day might be any different.

Rafe moments away from chaining you to him forever? There was no shot in hell of him walking away from that, and you sighed at how naively hopeful you’d been that day. The sound of your oldest son’s laughter pulled you from your thoughts, and you looked over just in time to see him jump to his feet, promptly sprinting towards the foyer. You weren’t worried, knowing exactly who it was that could elicit such a reaction from him.

You swallowed at the sound of Rafe’s voice, taking your 11-month old into your arms.

“...and how were my boys?”

He came into view as he said that, the messy haired little boy upside down in his arms as he kicked his feet and laughed.

You knew the question wasn’t meant for you.

“I was bad,” your son told him, and you fought back a smile, knowing why he said that.

Rafe’s gaze met yours, and the smile that threatened to ghost over your lips was gone. He merely smirked at the sight, rolling his eyes and turning his attention back to the boy in his arms.

“Bad? Oh no,” he chuckled. “Why were you bad?”

“I accidentally spilled juice on mommy’s dress.”

Your son’s words came out small, slurring together a bit with his slight lisp. You’d told him that it was fine—accidents happen—but you knew why he was so hung up on it. As awful as Rafe treated you behind closed doors, he treated you a million times better for the whole world to see. He was smart that way, and the whole world included your children. They saw their dad treat mommy like a princess—none the wiser to what the true nature of your relationship was really like—and so they followed suit.

An offense against you—no matter how small—was especially heinous.

“Oh that is bad,” Rafe murmured, setting him down on his feet. “Guess we’ll have to buy her a new one, huh?”

He ruffled his hair, and your son beamed at the thought of going shopping.

You avoided Rafe’s gaze as he neared you, an impressive feat when he came to kneel down before you. Your youngest was squirming in your arms—babbling—and you swallowed when Rafe reached out to lightly squish his cheeks. He pressed his lips to his tiny forehead just as his hand landed on your own cheek, and only then did you look at him.

Rafe stared at you for what felt like a long time, expression unreadable. Your oldest was going on about something behind him that neither of you were giving too much attention to. His blue eyes looked between yours, studying you, and you could smell his cologne. After what felt like too long, his pink lips finally curved into that haughty half smile you were used to seeing.

It never not made you want to smack it right off of his face.

“...and how was mommy today?” he quietly asked.

There were a thousand things you wanted to say to him.

You wanted to say that mommy cried in the bathroom because she still had thoughts of leaving sometimes even at the loss of her own children, but then she’d remember how much she loved them and couldn’t live without them and the guilt would set in. You wanted to tell him that mommy’s thigh still hurt from where he’d sank his teeth into it the night before for daring to tell him she still hated him sometimes. You even started to tell him that mommy had rare moments here and there where she’d momentarily forget their history and find herself content in this big house with her children and fancy ring until she remembered how her children got here and what said house and ring represented.

You didn’t say any of that though.

Instead, you merely blinked at Rafe, and told him what you always did.

“Mommy was fine.”

The vase narrowly missed Rafe’s head, his quick reflexes making your heart sink with disappointment. Your own quick thinking had you frantically looking around for something else to throw at him, but his feet moved faster than your brain, and he was nearing you before you made up your mind. Unable to stomach being around him, right now, you hurriedly sprinted to the other side of the room. You paid no mind to the way he called your name, a blend of anger and exasperation there.

“Are you done…?”

You didn’t look at him, keeping your angry gaze on the floor. Besides, you didn’t have to in order to know what he looked like. You could imagine it perfectly—steely blue eyes cold and intently focused on you, hands on his hips and jaw clenched so hard you’d swear it was about to break. When you finally did glance at him, you were proven right.

“This little…” he waved his hand about. “...tantrum. You’re finished?”

“Fuck you,” you whispered.

You couldn’t hold in your tears, and they spilled over without your permission. Rafe sucked his teeth at the sight, and when he took a step towards you, you made to leave the living room completely. Your sons were with your mom—they would be the whole weekend—because that was the plan. They would stay with grandma for a few days while you went to Charlotte to visit Pope at school. Rafe was supposed to be handling business with Ward, anyway.

He was not supposed to be sabotaging your plans and canceling car rentals and flights and ruining your entire weekend.

Rafe stopped you before you could get far, and you didn’t even attempt to get away, too defeated and upset to smack him square across the face like you wanted. His fingers dug into your skin, and you wondered if a light bruise would be there in the morning. You could tell by the way he held you that he was upset, but you didn’t understand what he had to be upset about. It had been four years since Rafe started this fucked up dynamic he called a family and over two since you’d reluctantly said ‘I do’. You even gave him another son…and yet…

It was clear now that he still didn’t trust you.

Sure, you had the stray thought or two here and there about escaping, but when it was all said and done, those were just thoughts. Your children meant too much to you to just take off, and even if you ever got to that point one day where you’d happily sacrifice their chance to grow up with a mother just to have your own freedom, Rafe would never let that happen. Your fate was sealed from the very moment he’d decided you were it for him.

“I haven’t seen my brother in months. It’s his last year of school, and I didn’t want the next time I see him to be at his Goddamn graduation,” you spat, lips trembling. “You said you were okay with it!”

“Yeah, I was,” Rafe replied in a tone that hinted at more to come.

You were right.

“...but then I remembered that this would be the first time we’d be apart for a distance more than thirty miles and how way up there in Charlotte you could disappear to wherever you wanted and-.”

“You wouldn’t have to worry about any of that if we had a normal relationship,” you cut him off, a sneer on your lips. “You wouldn’t have to worry about the possibility of me running away from you if you’d never hurt me and raped me and damn near threatened me into marrying you.”

At those words, Rafe let you go as if you burned him, and you reminded yourself how much Rafe hated to be reminded of why you were really here. You were positive he sometimes convinced himself that this relationship was as real as it could be—the perfect parents with the perfect children and the perfect marriage. After all, it was what everyone on the outside saw when they were looking in.

The difference between the two of you it seemed was that you knew it was all pretend.

Rafe liked to believe that it wasn’t.

“All of that aside…do you really think I’d leave them?”

Your question came out whispered, and you didn’t miss the slight twitch in Rafe’s face. Leave them…not leave him. Rafe was smart in knowing that knocking you up would be the only thing to truly prevent you from leaving, and yet he absolutely hated to be reminded of it. To be reminded that it was not—and never would be—him keeping you here.

His expression morphed, a shadow passing over his features as he glanced away, shoving a hand into his pocket.

“I can’t take that chance,” was all he said, making more tears spill over. “Pope’s not going anywhere. You can always see him another time.”

You pulled your lip between your teeth in anger, and when he reached for you, he was stopped by a harsh slap to the cheek. Your lips wouldn’t stop trembling, and you just stared at him as he rubbed his face.

“You have taken so much from me, Rafe,” you mumbled, rolling your eyes at him. “If your goal is to make sure we’re both absolutely miserable…then keep it up.”

You turned away from him, refusing to spare him another look as you made your way upstairs to unpack your suitcase.

Most days in your marriage were okay. They weren’t awful, and they weren't’ exactly anything you’d jump at the chance to relive. They were simply just…okay. On those days, Rafe would wake you up with a kiss, sometimes more than that, and you’d start your day—usually something that consisted of preparing for your children to wake up. They made those days stand a chance at being somewhat enjoyable, and you thought to yourself that maybe one day when they were old enough, you’d tell them how much they did for you without even knowing.

On the days where your marriage wasn’t okay, you were usually overcome with how you really felt about Rafe. Those days didn’t come as often as they used to—a fact you didn’t like to let your mind linger on—but when they did, they usually ended in your tears.

…and Rafe pinning you down and just taking what he wanted.

Rafe had felt entitled to your body long before he put the ring on your finger, but after you took his last name, his entitlement went to an entirely new level. You recalled a day where you had the house to yourselves and how silly you’d been to think Rafe would respect your wish to be alone.

“Do you know what this means?” he’d harshly asked, squeezing your left hand as he held it up for both of you to see.

The 4-carat marquise solitaire glinted under the bright kitchen light.

“It means you’re my wife, it means you’re mine,” he’d hissed, getting in real close and touching your nose with his. “Do you get how patient I’ve been? How patient I am?”

You’d shrank away from him, wincing at the slight pain in your left hand.

“I know this hasn’t been easy for you, but it’s been years,” he’d told you. “There’s a ring on your finger and two little boys walking around with my face. You need to suck it up!”

The counter had been harsh against your stomach as he bent you over it.

The good days in your marriage were even more rare, and even those ended in you feeling sad for yourself. It was usually a whole day of your boys keeping a smile on your face, the feeling so infectious that even Rafe couldn’t make it go away. And that’s how you’d find yourself smiling at him and playing with your children together and actually acting like a family. Only…on those rare days…it wasn’t acting. For just several hours, everything that Rafe was and everything he’d done would be so far from your mind.

You’d find yourself bathing your youngest together—your oldest only listening to you when it was time to wash behind his ears—cooing over the baby that was just shy of turning one years old. You’d let your son run into your arms as he hid from the ‘tickle monster’, playfully pushing at Rafe’s chest as you protected the three year old from him. Sometimes you’d even fall asleep with your head so close to Rafe’s lap as he read to them, your son begging you both to stay until he fell asleep.

Of all the days in your marriage that you’d anticipated being the hardest, the ‘good’ days were not among them. Reality would set in during the morning, sometimes even that same night, and your chest would ache as you held back tears because what you and Rafe had was not real. It wasn’t a real marriage, and you weren’t a real family, and on those days where you forgot that, the truth just hit so much harder. All of the anger and disappointment would come back…and then the fear would set in.

It scared you how easily you could slip into that headspace and live in some alternate reality where Rafe was a good husband and your children hadn’t been the product of rape and you didn’t have errant thoughts of what it would be like to be free of him. It scared you how good it felt to forget it all, how a day might come where instead of finding yourself slipping into that mindset, you just…chose it.

It would be so easy.

…but you felt like you owed it to yourself to hate him forever.

Sometimes he made hating him so easy…and then other times so, so hard.

“They’re so sweet to you,” he murmured in the low lighting, both of your kids fast asleep in their room.

You’d been trying to find sleep of your own, but Rafe’s phone call with Ward left you both up long after you wanted to be. You were unfortunately wide awake when slid in beside you, and your unopened eyes didn’t fool Rafe in the slightest. He knew you were awake.

“I would hope so,” you murmured, staring at the back of your eyelids as he lightly traced patterns into your satin covered stomach.

Your husband chuckled to himself.

“I mean they look at you like you hung the moon,” he quietly continued. “Especially your shadow…”

He was referring to your oldest.

“I’m barely there for him whenever you’re in the same room,” he whispered. “He’s happy that I’m home and he hugs me, but then it’s straight back to mommy.”

You slowly opened your eyes as Rafe’s hand became flat against your stomach, gently rubbing it.

“He treats you like a princess…”

You met his gaze at that, and you couldn’t quite place the look in Rafe’s eyes.

“...and I’m especially happy about it on days when I don’t.”

You sighed at that, staring at the ceiling.

“I’m glad that he’s nothing like me…”

You remembered Rafe saying something similar years ago before the boy in question had even been born, and you blinked as he leaned in, gently ghosting his lips over your cheek. You were tempted to push him away, but then you asked yourself if you wanted to start a fight so late in the night. Instead, you turned your head to face Rafe, your lips a hair’s width away from his own.

“I’m glad he’s nothing like you too,” you whispered.

You didn’t miss the way his face fell at that, a tick in his jaw that told you your words had the desired effect. Instead of saying something along the lines of what you both knew he wanted to say, Rafe merely heaved a sigh, still gently rubbing your stomach. He suddenly pushed himself up onto his elbow, looking down at you.

A smirk ghosted over his lips.

“I want another baby.”

Those words were the last thing you’d been expecting, and your eyes widened just a tad.

“...what?”

“Let’s try for a girl this time,” he suggested, and realizing that he was indeed serious, you sat up.

His hand fell away from your stomach.

“This time?” you murmured, more to yourself than him. “I don’t recall trying for anything the previous times.”

The mention of what he did to you had Rafe going silent, and when you looked at him, his nostrils were flaring.

“It can be different this time-.”

“How?” you wondered, frowning at him. “How will it be different this time? The only time I touch you is when I’m forced to, and I don’t know, that sounds pretty fucking familiar to me.”

Rafe’s hand had circled around your chin before you had time to react—he was sitting up now too—and you both just cooly stared at each other. He looked like he wanted to hurt you, and you stared back, just waiting for him to prove you right. He seemed to be toying with the thought, and after a few moments, he slowly exhaled through his nose.

His thumb brushed over your bottom lip, his blue eyes following the action.

A million thoughts were racing through his mind, that much you could tell by the emotions that flickered over his features. Eventually he settled on one, pulling his lip between his teeth.

“You’re not always unhappy…”

It was said like a statement, but there was a lilt there that told you he wanted an answer.

“No,” you eventually responded, honestly. “Not always.”

He nodded.

“...but I’m unhappy more than I’m happy.”

He closed his eyes at that, and you swallowed.

“What did you expect, Rafe? Sure, four years is a lot, but it’s also not when I think about everything you did to me.”

He dropped his hand and pushed himself to his feet. You watched him stand there, staring at the wall with his hands on his hips.

“...and what makes it worse is that you’re not even sorry. I know how much you want me to ‘just get over it’, but how am I expected to get over it when we both know you’d do it all over again so long as it got you the same result?” you choked out. “You’re not sorry for any of it.”

You blinked away tears.

“...and now you’re mad at me so much because I won’t roll over and play house.”

You saw his shoulders heave, and you could tell how much this conversation was frustrating him. Rafe really hated to be reminded of his own actions, hated to be reminded of the fact that your relationship was where it was because of him. You couldn’t find it in yourself to care. You were the one trapped in this gilded cage…not him.

“So, if you want another baby…” you quietly started. “...either something needs to change…or you just embrace the beast we both know you can be.”

His eyes snapped to yours at that, and as much as it made your heart skip a beat, Rafe rarely scared you anymore. You’d seen him and experienced him at his absolute worst. There really wasn’t much he could do to you anymore that would shock you…and he knew it.

His baby blues glinted dangerously, and you bit your tongue.

He did the opposite of what you expected, and you watched him turn away from you to leave the room. You didn’t relax, knowing he’d come back, but you did heave a tired sigh, telling yourself that sleep couldn’t come fast enough.

Rafe’s hand tightened around your throat as he kissed you, the alcohol on your tongue making the kiss taste sweet. The world was moving so slow around you, and every place that Rafe touched felt like you were being gently electrocuted. Deep in the crevices of your mind, you knew that something was wrong. You hadn’t kissed Rafe like this in years, not since the early days of your relationship when you thought you might have loved him, and butterflies were in your stomach at one look from him.

You recalled the sight of your empty wine glass on the carpet, the rest of the red wine you didn’t drink staining the white fabric.

Your kids were asleep and the house was quiet and you were kissing your husband like you used to—back when he wasn’t your husband. Rafe had your back to the wall just barely on the inside of your bedroom, your hand struggling to reach out to the door. Rafe grabbed it, threading his fingers through your own, and you made a slight noise of protest.

He made a shushing noise into the kiss.

“Just relax…”

Relax.

That word triggered something in you, and you pressed your other hand to his chest. You were far too relaxed to be sober, and considering you only had one glass of wine, you knew that other substances were at play here. You recalled Rafe voicing his desire for another baby just the other day…and you recalled the slight back and forth it’d created. You expected one of two things out of Rafe, but neither of them included a scenario where you were too inebriated to properly fight back against him.

There was something especially sinister about Rafe creating this false sense of consent.

His lips traveled down towards your neck as he bent his head, and you felt like you didn’t have control over your body as you threw your head back. You shakily exhaled when both of his hands descended towards your waist, lifting you and forcing you towards the California king. When he settled you both onto it, all pretense was gone.

“Don’t you want a little girl?” he whispered against your skin, his fingers dancing along the place from where your shirt had ridden up. “Hmm? I know you get sick of being with just us boys.”

You made a noise that was unintelligible even to your ears, pushing at his head, but it was of no use. Whatever he slipped into your drink clearly wasn’t in his, Rafe having all of his strength and wits about him as he pinned you down. He kissed you again—slow—as his hands circled around your wrists. It took your breath away, and your lashes fluttered when he descended.

“A princess for my princess…”

You reached out to place a hand on the bed to steady yourself. Although you knew it was the room spinning, not you, and so focused on that, you didn’t even realize what Rafe was doing until the cool air you’d briefly felt against your core was replaced by his mouth. The action made your back arch, and—against your will—you reached down to press your hand against his head.

He hummed in between your thighs.

“You never let me do this anymore,” you heard him whisper, his breath against your skin before he dived back in.

To be fair, you never let him do anything, but especially this. It was too intimate, too loving, and those words were so far from the true nature of your relationship it wasn’t even funny. After all, Rafe was now at a place where he had to drug you just to get you to stop fighting against him. You found it interesting because he never minded the fight before. In fact, you’d even say that some part of him enjoyed it.

You wondered what had changed.

His head moved back and forth between your thighs, and it made you squirm. One of Rafe’s hands reached up to dig into your leg, holding you still. The other found your hand, and you were unable to remember that you didn’t like holding his hand. Another gesture that you felt was too intimate, something Rafe always liked to pretend that your relationship was.

Just when you were on the brink of coming all over his tongue, your husband pulled away, but not before pressing a quick kiss to the inside of your thigh. With stars just barely floating in your vision, you laid there, eyes falling closed as you fought to regulate your breathing.

A voice in your head told you that you didn’t want this, and that you needed to get up…but you couldn’t find the strength to.

When Rafe’s hands were on you again, they were pulling away every piece of fabric they touched, and you couldn’t help the tears that kissed your eyes. Being forced to feign compliance in your own assault somehow hurt a thousand times worse than if Rafe had simply grabbed you and held you down. You wondered if this made it easier on him, and you thought about how much Rafe hated being reminded of the things he did to you.

It was like it hurt him to remember it that way, to acknowledge it for what it was.

When he slid into you, you couldn’t help the small whimper you let out, eyes rolling as he stretched you out. Rafe’s hands were on you, pulling you closer, and as if your arms had a mind of their own, you threw them around him. His chest was pressed to yours as he thrust into you, and you pressed your face into the crook of his neck. He cursed when he sank into you again, and your toes curled.

“You’re so mean to me, you know that?”

One of his hands tangled in the hair at the nape of your neck.

“...have to drug my own wife just to get her to fuck me…”

Your nails dragged along the expanse of his back, and Rafe hummed at the feeling. You’d forgotten what it felt like to lie beneath him and just let him have his way with you. It felt like so long since he hadn’t had to force you down and take his cock despite what you may have wanted. Although, your current position wasn’t all that different, but you couldn’t ignore how relaxed you were from whatever he’d slipped you.

Rafe shifted, hands pressed into the mattress on either side of your head. His blue eyes glinted in the low lighting, and you blearily blinked up at him as he gazed down at you. He leaned in, pressing his forehead to yours while still holding your gaze. Your lips parted at a particularly hard thrust, and the corner of his lips curved upwards at the sight.

Deep in the back of your mind, you knew you didn’t want this, but it was for so many reasons that you were struggling to remember. For the time being, all you could focus on was the curve of his cock as he repeatedly pushed it into you and how good it made you feel. One of your legs hooked around his waist, and Rafe’s perfect teeth winked at you as he grinned.

“I missed this, beautiful,” he whispered. “You know that?”

The bed jostled from your movements, and Rafe glanced down between you to watch himself disappear into you.

“I can’t wait to fill you up,” he told you, making your heart skip a beat and reminding you of how and why you’d found yourself in this position in the first place. “Can’t wait to see you swollen and round again and fucking glowing.”

You murmured his name, but you couldn’t tell if it was in protest or not.

Your mind was all over the place, and when Rafe’s hips curved into yours again, you arched your chest up into his. Sweat clung to your frame, and you briefly wondered how made you would be at him in the morning. You knew this wouldn’t be his only attempt—Rafe always proving to be more than thorough when trying for a baby—and you now weakly wondered about having to be cautious of the food in your own house.

You could tell when he was close, his thrusts becoming sloppy and his breathing picking up. He started to kiss you more, each kiss becoming messier and more open mouthed than the last. In your inebriated state of mind, you kissed him back, alarm bells going off deep within your bones. Your own breathing was labored, like you couldn’t get air into your lungs fast enough.

When Rafe came the first time—and you knew that it would be the first of the night—he grunted in your ear as he spilled into you. Your nails were trailing along his skin as he plunged his cock into you, not even stopping when you felt him start to soften, lazily thrusting into your folds. Your own climax was just around the corner when he spoke.

“I will fuck you all night,” he whispered against your cheek, his tone vaguely threatening. “I will fuck you as many times as it takes until you give me what I want.”

He leaned back a bit, his nose touching yours as he tilted his head, eyeing you in a way that made your skin grow cold.

“...and I will do whatever I have to to make you…” he looked between your unfocused eyes. “...agreeable.”

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hoshiros · 2 months ago

Text

—✯ KNEE SOCKS

AM Masterlist

cw. 18+ mdni. afab!reader, phone/video sex, established relationship, lingerie, masturbation, HAPPY SAE DAY

"Three."

ITOSHI SAE watches both in fascination and bitter pride as you choke on your own spit. Your nail slowly taps against the side of the vibrator, clicking in the microphone.

Sae clicks his tongue impatiently when you pout at him through the camera, glaring at his stupidly handsome face. "At least let me catch my breath," you glower, burrowing your head against the pillow beneath your cheek.

"Stop stalling. Three."

"Wait—"

"You don't want to disappoint me, do you?"

You seem to contemplate his words for a moment, casting him a shy, tentative glance before you shake your head. The silky lingerie hugging your body slips when you adjust yourself, and Sae can't help the way his eyes gravitate toward the extra flesh spilling over the edge of your thigh-highs.

He grunts, giving himself a squeeze through his sweats at the show. You hesitantly increase the speed of the vibe to three and sputter, pulling it away from your clit in surprise before slowly drawing it against you again.

Some people would think that Sae's favourite view is a vast green pitch crawling with talent. Others would think that it's the sea, wide and sparkling under the sun.

All those idiots are wrong.

His favourite view would always be you on your knees, fists pulled tight around whatever you can grab, face pushed down—helpless and wanting him more than anything in the world. Nothing makes his blood boil hotter.

"Wish you were—" your words tumble into nonsense, high-pitched babbles and whines until the toy slips a little, giving you a chance to speak. "Wish you were here."

"Yeah? Greedy girl, can't get enough, hm?"

"S’not as good without you," you sniffle, feet kicking up and down. They thud softly against the mattress as you writhe, forcing yourself to look at the camera.

The thing Sae hates the most about Spain is that he's confined to a video chat. His fingers twitch, instinctively wanting to reach out to grab you by the hips and give you that little extra help he knows you need.

"I know you can do it," he croons, and through the video you can see his head tilt to the side almost mockingly. "Or do you need me to fuck you that bad?"

You hiccup and shake your head again, pulling your knees closer to your body and angling yourself better for him to see. He almost smiles at the sight—that constant determination he adores so much about you.

The new angle makes you breathless, face turning into the pillow as you gasp and squeal. Sae was more careful with his ministrations than you were with this stupid piece of plastic.

"That's it," he presses, hips jutting against the fabric of his own pants to try and find some friction. "So pretty."

You cry and cry and cry, voice breaking the longer play with yourself. "Sae," you pant, muffled by the pillow. "Sae... Wanna cum, please? Can I?"

He hums low, agonizingly indecisive. Then, finally,

"Go on."

It only takes a few seconds before you sob, feet kicking again while you cum. Sae is about to laugh when you shake so hard the propped-up phone almost topples over. It gets caught in his throat when you pull the toy away and he can see the slick glistening down its side in the light.

Sae is transfixed. His fingers slip past the elastic of his waist band before he can stop himself and he lets out the tiniest of groans when he squeezes his length proper.

Sticky cum coats his thumb when he swipes over the tip with it, but it's not enough. He needs more. He'd always need more of you—maybe even more than you needed him.

He would never admit that to you, though.

"Again."

#hymn.✯#blue lock smut #blue lock x reader #itoshi sae smut #itoshi sae x reader #itoshi sae #sae itoshi #sae itoshi x reader #sae itoshi smut #bllk smut #bllk x reader

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porcelian · 4 months ago

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In the tangled web of a relationship, the couple shows and tells their affections in all kinds of different ways. Sometimes, it's the soft, but sickly sweet way their touch lingers on one's skin. Sometimes, it's the saccharine taste that is left in one's mouth after a shared kiss.

Sometimes, it's as simple as a piece of one's clothing on their partner.

It's something Jason never gave a single thought to. Until you showed up. With your honeyed gaze and sunshine grin. The thought of you in clothes that belonged to him lit a fire on his skin. In every crevice thoughts of you reside. Thoughts of you wrapped in his signature color, red.

Unfortunately, he hasn't had the luck to see you hugged by that ruby-red. Not even a sweater in cold weather, not even a t-shirt on lazy days when both of you stay at home, tangled in one another.

Even now, as the merigold rays of the sun peek through the vanilla curtains, hitting the cloud-like softness of your shared bed, he stares at you getting dressed.

It's the everyday domestic tenderness he takes comfort in. Your brows furrowed, focused as you sifted through different pieces of clothing that lay messy around the room. His own red leather jacket barely covers his frame.

“Maybe something more light,” you murmur, turning on your heel to show him the two blouses hanging from your hands. “What do you think?”

In his mind, you could wear either of them; you'd still look flawless. He could say that, but he knows you need an answer.

“Ditch them both,” he answers as he props himself in the palm of his hand, “that's my expert opinion.”

A mix of shock and embarrassment floods your flushed face. “You'd have me ditch the pants too, wouldn't you?”

“You really want me to answer that?”

“Nevermind,” you click your tongue as you finally choose the rosy-colored blouse, bringing it close to your torso.

Not yet close enough.

He moves closer, wrapping his around you. You melt into his hold, but panic as he leaves pecks at the corner of your lips. You can't help but give him a dopey grin.

“Jason, c’mon,” you giggle, trying to break free from his grasp, “you'll smudge the lipstick!”

He settles you in his arms as his head lays on your shoulder, holding your gaze. It doesn't seem like he plans on letting you go soon.

You shuffle again, hand reaching for the peach-colored lipstick. A glint of light reflecting from the lampshade twinkles in your eyes. A sight he can't seem to tear his gaze away from.

The outfit you chose lays undisturbed on the bed. The light rosy-colored silky fabric contrasts with the milky white of the sheets.

You had picked your outfit for the night after many hours of contemplating, and glares sent his way after another failed try of voicing his opinion about your outfit of choice.

Much to his dismay, you don't plan on going out with him naked on the date you both planned for weeks.

“I’m still sticking with my suggestion,” he shifts to lay on the bed, mindful of the silky fabric of your clothing.

You huff, cheeks flushing a deep red, a look he enjoys and basks in seeing.

A little closer.

Maybe it's the way you cling onto him for warmth, or maybe how your hands dig into his pockets, searching for his hands, but he doesn't even feel a tinge of the rainy and cold Gotham weather. The single touch of your hands on his has him hungry and starving for more.

Instead, he focuses his attention on you, and your frustrated tries to keep warm. The cold air hits his face, but he doesn't feel it, the warmth rushing to his cheeks, protecting him.

Walking down the road, lit with neon signs and a few lampposts, you two finally reach the destination of your long-awaited date.

Moving into the small, but cozy café, both of you take your seats. He leaves his jacket hanging from his seat. The scarlet-colored leather looks out of place at such a place. Jason gives you a quick peck on the cheek, moving to take your orders.

Coming back, he spots that his jacket is gone, not left on the seat but wrapped around your shoulders.

Your shoulders. Your hands grip the jacket closer as you curl into the leather even more, taking in the warmth and feel of him.

Red. On you. His red.

“Oh, sorry,” you chuckle. “It’s still cold, even in here.” You notice his gaze on the fabric hugging your frame. “You don't mind, do you?”

“Oh,” he stammers, “no—not at all.” Taking a seat opposite of you, he listens as you go on about the last few days. He can't help but give all his attention to the red that you bring closer to yourself—his red you tangle yourself in.

#jason todd x you #jason todd imagine #jason todd fluff #jason todd x reader #jason todd #jason todd x gender neutral reader #jason fluff #jason todd needs a hug #dc #red hood x you #red hood x reader #red hood imagine #dc x reader

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chibieggplant · 5 months ago

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Accidentally Exposed

One Piece boys accidentally walking in on you getting changed

With Ace | Law | Penguin | Luffy

Female reader

Ace

The door to your cabin swung open with an audible creak, revealing a sight that instantly ignited a blush that rivalled the inferno he so effortlessly commanded. His footsteps faltered mid-stride, dark eyes widening in both surprise and embarrassment as he took in the sight of his crewmate in a state of half-dress. You were facing away from him, your back exposed save for a dangerously small towel wrapped loosely around your chest. Sunlight streamed through the porthole window, casting a halo around your damp hair and highlighting the freckles scattered like constellations across your back. Ace felt his heart pounding in his chest, a mix of surprise and unbidden desire coursing through his veins. He swallowed hard, trying to regain his composure as he shamelessly took in every tantalizing inch of your form.

At the sound of your door opening you pivot swiftly on your heels to face the intruder. “Ace!” You squealed in alarm. Unfortunately, your hasty reaction had the opposite effect of preserving modesty. The momentum sent the flimsy towel slipping precariously, coming open slightly and exposing even more of your sun-kissed skin. Granting Ace a fleeting glimpse of the enticing expanse of your body below.

Ace's eyes widened comically, his heartbeat hammering wildly in his chest, both from the shock of intrusion and the tantalizing image seared into his brain. "Shit! Y/n! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to barge in!" He stuttered, hastily turning around and slapping a large palm over his burning gaze.

The silence stretched tensely for several seconds before your muffled giggle drifted across the room. Ace peeked over his shoulder, relief flooding through him like a cool ocean breeze seeing you readjusting your towel. "It's fine, really, could have been worse," you assured him sheepishly, your cheeks tinted pink.

"Yeah... Yeah, of course." He cleared his throat awkwardly, turning fully around now that modesty was mostly restored. His devilish grin returned tenfold, however, at the prospect of teasing you about this later. "Just didn't expect our serious doctor to be hiding such lovely… assets, underneath those boring old lab coats," Ace finished smoothly, trying his best to diffuse the lingering awkwardness with his signature charm. His eyes danced teasingly, but there was no malice behind his words; only genuine appreciation for beauty caught unexpectedly.

You blushed deeper at his comment, rolling your eyes fondly nonetheless. "You're incorrigible," you muttered, but your lips curved upwards into a smile that betrayed your amusement.

Law

The door to your cabin slid open without warning, admitting a tall silhouette that paused mid-step as its occupant took in the unexpected sight before him. Law's gaze flickered across your half-dressed form of an open shirt and black underwear, taking in the delicate curves of your thighs and the smooth expanse of skin exposed by your loosened clothing. He quickly schooled his features into indifference, though a faint blush still stained his cheeks. The corners of his mouth twitched as he fought back the urge to smile at your flustered state - it wasn't every day one caught the crew's resident nurse off guard like this.

“C-captain! Sorry, I thought I locked my door,” you stammered as you scrambled to find your trousers and button up your shirt.

"My apologies," he rasped out, voice uncharacteristically low as he turned away, giving you the privacy you deserved. Despite his outward calmness, however, Law couldn't help but feel his heart rate pick up slightly at the unexpected intimacy of the moment. Your relationship had always been one of mutual respect and professionalism, yet seeing you vulnerable like this stirred something deep within him. As he stood there, listening to your hurried movements while you dressed, Law found himself struggling to maintain his customary cool demeanour. Once he heard the soft rustle of fabric cease, signalling that you were decent again, he finally allowed himself to turn back towards you - though he carefully avoided meeting your gaze directly. "Is there something you require assistance with?" You asked as Law attempted casualness, leaning against the doorframe with his hands tucked into his pockets.

You stood before him now, fully clothed in your usual white medical attire, yet Law couldn't help the heat pooling low in his abdomen at the memory of your exposed skin. He cleared his throat again, trying to dispel the unwanted arousal threatening to betray his composure further. "Ah yes, I merely wanted to discuss..." Law paused, mentally scolding himself for forgetting why he had entered in the first place. "...the shipment of medical supplies. It seems some items might be missing," he lied smoothly, inventing an excuse on the spot. Your eyes narrowed suspiciously, clearly aware of his flustered state, but didn't comment on it further. Instead, you sighed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "Alright, let me check my inventory." Law nodded curtly, watching your retreating figure as you walked towards your desk. He mentally reprimanded himself for his lack of self-control; you were his crewmate and friend, not some tavern wench for his lewd fantasies. Yet even as he berated himself internally, Law couldn't help but steal furtive glances at the sway of your hips beneath the fabric of your uniform, reminding himself to keep it professional while he discreetly adjusted his trousers that betrayed his growing desires.

Penguin

A series of clumsy thuds preceded the abrupt entrance of Penguin. The door to your cabin swung wide open, revealing your flustered crewmate mid-stumble, his hat nearly toppling off his head. You yelped, hands instinctively covering your breasts as you spun around to face the intruder. Penguin froze in place, his bugged eyes taking in the sight before him - your half-clad form framed perfectly against the dim cabin lighting. Your discarded shirt lay forgotten on the floor, exposing a generous amount of skin.

"P-Penguin!" You squealed, cheeks burning redder than Ace's devil fruit abilities could ever manage. “Wh-what do you want?" You demanded, trying to sound stern despite your obvious embarrassment.

"I-I'm sorry! I-I thought, uh...L-law- I mean the Captain sent me!" He stammered out, his cheeks darkening in embarrassment. Quickly averting his gaze and pulling down his hat, Penguin's vision fixated on the ground below him, determined not to peek despite his body begging otherwise. He could feel his cheeks warming up with mortification as he fumbled for words to diffuse the awkward silence that followed.

Penguin continued to ramble nervously, clearly regretting his lack of thinking that led him to burst in on you during such an intimate moment. "I-I swear, I didn't mean to intrude, y/n! It's just, I uh, I didn't think!" You stifled a chuckle appreciating his attempt at a flustered apology despite your own embarrassment. "It's fine, Penguin. Just give me a minute to finish changing." You muttered, your voice strained as you scrambled to cover yourself properly. The cabin filled with a tense silence broken only by the rustling of fabric and Penguin's shallow breaths. “O-of course,” he stammered as he stumbled out of the door. His mind whirred with thoughts he shouldn't entertain about his fellow crewmate, but it was difficult when presented with such a sight. Y/n, usually so composed and professional, looked incredibly endearing in your current state of undress. Shaking his head to dispel the improper thoughts, Penguin mentally scolded himself. *Focus on your job, idiot!* His inner voice chastised him. *You're supposed to protect her dignity, not ogle at her!* Feeling slightly guilty but still unable to completely banish the enticing mental image, he waited patiently outside your door until you called out for him to enter again. He was undoubtedly going to find it challenging to look at you in the same way from now on.

Luffy

As the Straw Hat Pirate captain barged into your cabin without a second thought you barely managed to cover yourself before Luffy's curious gaze landed on your half-exposed form of you standing in your underwear. His expression morphed from surprise to pure childlike interest, his eyes sparkling with innocence as he blurted out, "Whoa y/n! Is this your new swimsuit?" Luffy's nonchalant question stood in sharp contrast to the mortification you felt, your cheeks burning crimson. Attempting to maintain some semblance of dignity, you quickly covered yourself up with a discarded robe, "Luffy! How many times have I told you to knock?" He simply grinned sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head - a gesture that never failed to make your heart flutter despite the circumstances. Unfazed by your embarrassment, Luffy continued to ogle you openly, his simple curiosity untouched by the societal norms that dictated modesty. You found herself torn between laughter and frustration at your captain's antics - typical Luffy you thought internally rolling your eyes.

Still grinning brightly despite your attempts at maintaining decorum, Luffy stepped closer, his curiosity getting the better of him. He reached out tentatively towards your partially covered shoulder, wanting to touch the intriguing material of your ''swimsuit'. Before you could protest further, Luffy’s fingers trailed your bra strap, his touch warm against your exposed skin. His voice was filled with genuine wonder when he asked again, "This must be so much cooler than regular clothes though right?"

You bit back a smile despite yourself, unable to stay mad at him for his earnest fascination. You shook your head softly, trying to hide the blush creeping up your neck. "Uh, yeah Luffy, it keeps me cooler," you mumbled, averting your gaze shyly. Luffy tilted his head, looking thoughtful for a moment before nodding enthusiastically. "Then it must be super comfortable! And it looks super cute" He beamed, giving you a genuine compliment that made your heart skip a beat.

Your captain's enthusiasm was infectious, causing you to find yourself smiling despite your earlier embarrassment. "Thanks, Luffy," you said warmly, feeling a wave of affection wash over you at his kind albeit naive words. Luffy bounced on the balls of his feet excitedly, seemingly thrilled by this newfound discovery. "Hey, maybe we should go swimming together! We could show everyone your new swimsuit!"

Your face ignited once again in a brighter shade of scarlet at Luffy's suggestion, your hand instinctively pulling the robe more securely. "Luffy! These aren't swimming clothes!" You spluttered. Luffy paused, tilting his head to the side as he processed your words. His eyes narrowed slightly before realization dawned on him. "Ohhh," he muttered comprehendingly, rubbing his chin thoughtfully as the situation clicked.

You watched as Luffy’s cheeks flushed slightly, mirroring your embarrassment as he realised. However, quickly Luffy's grin returned full force, lightening the atmosphere in the cabin instantly. “Sorry y/n, but it looked comfy enough for swimming!” He laughed lightly, causing a smile to tug at your lips. “Well, whatever it’s for,” Luffy continued, “You look great!” He added, his compliment genuine and heartwarming. You couldn’t help but laugh at his oblivion, “Thank you Luffy…now can you please get out of my room and let me finish changing?” You struggled to hold back your smile while gesturing toward your door.

#one piece #anime #one piece x reader #portgas d ace #portgas ace x reader #trafalgar law #trafalgar law x reader #penguin #penguin x reader #heart pirates #luffy #luffy x reader

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ozarkthedog · 7 months ago

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𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭

summary: joel fucks you over the kitchen sink.

warnings: 18+ smut. best friends dad!joel x afab!reader. alt universe. unspecified age gap. secret relationship. soft dom!joel. cream pie. w.c. 529

author's note: writing has been difficult lately so i'm trying to write little pieces like this randomly to help get the creativity flowing again. so i apologize if this isn't my best. *runs off into the night*

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ⋅ 𝐅𝐢𝐜 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐬 ⋅ 𝐉𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭

"You better keep those hands on the counter if you want to come," Joel's lips brush your ear with the soft threat. Large, worn hands smother your own against the cool marble, keeping you still yet pliable.

You anxiously peer through the kitchen window.

It's been 10 minutes or so since you left. You made up a white lie about a headache to your friends, excusing yourself from the splashing chaos in the pool, only to find yourself in the arms of your friend's dad, Joel.

It started off innocently with wandering eyes and cheeky comments, which turned into brazen touches and stolen kisses over the last few months. Eventually, you ended up in Joel's bed one lonely night after a rough breakup. You sought solace from your friend, but Joel was the one who answered the door when she wasn't home.

Worry tugs at your nerves, bottom lip pinched hard between your teeth. You silently pray your friends won't realize you're missing and come searching. You wouldn't be able to face them if they saw you bent over the counter taking their friend's dad's cock.

"Where'd you go, sweet girl?" his thumb brushes your lip, pulling it softly from between your teeth. You kiss the warm pad before he pushes it into your mouth, letting you suckle on the digit.

"Stay righ' with me." He murmurs, pressing his broad front against your spine and trapping your body to the counter's edge. "Don' need to be thinkin' 'bout anythin' else 'cept takin' my cock."

Your breath hitches as he grinds his length deeper, nudging his weeping crown at the end of you, forming you around him like a leather glove.

"What if someone sees." You blurt, frantically clutching his wrist when one of your friends looks toward the kitchen window. Thankfully, the sun blinds her view just as Joel flips the two of you out of sight.

A steady arm locks around your waist, keeping you pinned on his thick cock while you're left at his mercy. He uses the support of the counter against his lower back to keep you propped and open for him.

"What'd I say 'bout thinkin', huh?" he snaps his hips, driving his girth between your drenched folds, ruthlessly accentuating his words with each thrust. "Nothin'. But. My. Cock."

A brute hand curls under your jaw and tips your head against his shoulder. His grey whiskers scratch your cheek. "Can feel her creamin' on me, ya know." He grits, tightening his hold on your jaw as your cunt swirls around his girth. "Why you fightin' it? We both know you're exactly where ya want to be, sweet girl."

Your eyes press tight as a wave of untamed arousal shoots from your cunt straight into your brain. Joel smacks his hand over your mouth, barely muting your sounds of carnal bliss as you tumble over the edge, body quivering and writhing in his hold.

"Tha's my good girl." Joel huskily praises. Your fingers dig into his forearm as he picks up speed. He grunts like a wild animal, uncaged and dirty, feverishly fucking into your soaked heat until his cum is dripping down your thighs.

feel free to scream at me -> 💌

reblogs & comments are extremely appreciated! follow @ozzieslibrary for new fic updates!

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller #pedro pascal #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut

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spencerreidenjoyer · 7 months ago

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please, please, please | spencer reid x reader

wc: 2.8k, rating: explicit/18+

tags/warnings: office sex, professor!spencer/student!fem!reader, age gap (20 years?), rough sex, blowjobs, unprotected sex, vaginal sex, title kink (being called sir), questionable relationship, dubious consent (they both want it but again it’s teacher/student so…)

a/n: read too many professor!spencer fics and decided i had to throw my hat in the ring. i feel crazy and i need him desperately. pls go crazy with me too. (ao3 link here!)

It doesn’t take an FBI profiler to notice how Dr. Spencer Reid fails to hide the way he stares at you in his lectures, his eyes always lingering on you even when he’s addressing the entire classroom.

Maybe you’re just sensitive to his gaze, because he’s an extremely intelligent man whose attention you’re more than happy to have on you, given the fact that he is insanely attractive.

Maybe you’re just as attracted to him as he seems to be with you, because you absolutely preen at the attention Dr. Reid gives you in class, words of praise over your ideas often free-flowing from his lips.

Maybe because you know how hot you are, you shouldn’t have come into Dr. Reid’s office in a low-cut top and a short plaid skirt asking to discuss your final essay in his Criminal Psychology class.

Both you and Dr. Reid know you’re more than capable of acing this paper, your in-class ideas clearly brilliant enough to impress Dr. Reid himself. And yet, you’re in his office, seemingly worried about how to get your thoughts across on paper.

It doesn’t take an FBI profiler to notice how you’re positively bluffing, a little too eloquent to sound truly uncertain of yourself in your work for Dr. Reid’s class.

It doesn’t take an FBI profiler to notice the way Dr. Reid is staring at your tits in your top, eyes only flicking back up to your face when he realises he should be looking at you while you speak instead of at your… assets.

“Sir, did you catch what I just said?” You prod, very aware he most definitely did not hear you. You note how his eyes widen when you call him sir.

“Um– Well, I–” Dr. Reid starts, but it’s no use.

You stand up, putting your hands on the desk as you sigh, “Dr. Reid, I’m sorry if I’m boring you with my thought process.”

Your arms frame your tits just right, and you catch the way Dr. Reid’s eyes inevitably flit down to your cleavage. It’s so obvious when he looks back up at you, and you see his face redden. You quirk an eyebrow at him as a challenge of sorts, and he looks somewhat apologetic.

Dr. Reid clears his throat. He avoids your eyes for a moment, as he moves to take off his blazer. “I apologise. I’m just… distracted at the moment.”

“I wonder why that is,” you hum, twirling a piece of your hair with your index finger, like you’re deep in thought. Then, like the already-obvious answer just hits you, you add, with a pout: “Oh! Do I distract you, sir?”

“What are you doing?” Dr. Reid asks, and you can hear the way he’s trying to keep his voice steady, calm.

“I don’t know, sir,” you shrug. “Maybe you should share your thoughts with me.”

Dr. Reid blinks at you, takes the sight of you in. “Well, you’re giving me a hard time right about now.”

“Why?” You cock your head to the side. He closes his eyes and breathes in deep, just for a moment.

Your professor’s tone biting, he answers candidly, “Your revealing clothing choice makes it difficult for me to focus. I didn’t expect you to dress like a slut when you were coming into my office for a simple consultation.”

Your sharp inhale is audible in the pindrop-silent room. Dr. Reid meets your eyes. He pauses for a moment, and you watch his tongue dart out to wet his lips. His eyes are dark. With a flick of his finger, he says, “Come here.”

You think of leaning over the desk just to fuck with him even more, but Dr. Reid looks so serious you think you might be in actual trouble. You scurry over to his side of the desk, standing next to him. He turns his chair towards you, and you can see the bulge in your professor’s pants. He’s big.

“You want this?” Dr. Reid says gently. It’s a loaded question.

Pulling your lower lip between your teeth, you nod. “Yes, sir. I want you.”

“Good. Then get on your knees.” It’s a command, in a deep voice you’ve never heard from Dr. Reid in the past three months in his lectures. You hope your knees won’t bruise from the way you fall to them in a heartbeat.

“I didn’t think you would be such a slut.” Dr. Reid smirks, and it makes a shiver run down your spine. His hand reaches towards you, cups your cheek. He slaps your cheek gently, but the suddenness makes you gasp. “Fuck, you drive me crazy in class, but now I have you like this? I must have done something amazing in a past life to have you on your knees for me now.”

“Sir,” you exhale shakily. His touch is soft, his thumb stroking your cheek with a surprising sweetness.

“Let’s put that mouth to good use, hmm?” Dr. Reid says, his tone warm, syrupy sweet. He reaches for his belt, the metal clink as he undoes it making heat quickly pool between your legs. The belt gets tossed aside and he unzips his fly, pulling his half-hard cock out. You watch as his large hand wraps around himself, as he strokes his cock absentmindedly. His eyes are only on you. Your body flushes hot with arousal.

Dr. Reid beckons you closer with a finger. You look up at him, and you take his cock in your hand. His eyes tell you everything you need to know. You lean forward to take him into your mouth. You wrap your lips around the head of his cock softly, the warmth of your mouth probably feeling like heaven as Dr. Reid moans quietly as you do. You swirl your tongue over his tip, tasting the saltiness of his precome.

His hand comes up to the back of your head as he watches you suck his cock. You’re kitten-licking at his tip, which doesn’t seem like enough for him. Dr. Reid pushes your head down on his cock, forcing you to take more of him into your mouth. He’s big, so the sudden fullness of your mouth coupled with the way he hits the back of your throat makes you choke slightly. You glance up at him. He’s smirking.

“I’m sure you know how to suck cock, don’t you? Like this, sweetheart.” His tone is close to condescending, as the fist in your hair drags your head up and down on his cock. While it’s not like you don’t know how to please a man, Dr. Reid treating you this way makes you swoon – his teacherly mannerisms turning you on impossibly.

You gag as Dr. Reid fucks your face down onto his cock, his groans mixing with your wet, choked noises. He clearly seems to enjoy this, using you how he pleases, uncaring of your own arousal. It’s so hot you feel like you might explode. You hope you’ll get more out of this than just sucking your professor off, because if he doesn’t reciprocate you might have half a mind to report him for unprofessional conduct.

But Dr. Reid is moaning into his fist, eyebrows furrowed as you blow him, and you’ve always wanted to please your professor; be it in class or right in this moment.

You reach up to grab Dr. Reid by his wrist, tapping his arm to get his attention. His eyelids flutter open, revealing his gorgeously deep brown eyes. He looks at you, slightly concerned. “What’s the matter?”

You swallow hard. “Sir, I– Will you fuck me? Please? I want- I want to feel you inside.”

Dr. Reid closes his eyes for a moment, breathes through his nose. “Holy fucking shit,” He murmurs to himself, before he says, louder, “Okay. Yes. Fuck, you’re so sexy.”

You don’t get up from your knees, not just yet. You look up at him, hands in your lap, waiting for him to tell you what to do. You smirk up at him. Dr. Reid sighs, rubbing his face with his hand, and says, “You little minx. Get up on my desk.”

He extends a hand to help you up, your legs shaky from being on your knees. You look behind you to figure out how to get yourself onto the desk, but Dr. Reid is also on his feet now, and he hoists you up onto the desk, easily getting between your spread legs. You steady yourself by placing your hands out behind you, and shudder when Dr. Reid’s big, warm hands grab at your thighs. He squeezes at the flesh, before one hand comes down to your clothed pussy. He swipes his thumb over your clit, over your hole, and he tuts. “You’re so wet already. You must be desperate.”

You shudder. Dr. Reid’s touch is not enough to feel good, as he barely teases you over your panties. “You should do something about it, Professor.”

“I will,” he says. Dr. Reid exhales, looking down between where your bodies are pressed close, his hard cock pressed against your cunt. “Look at what you’ve done to me. You’ve ruined me.”

“Sir,” you say sultrily. “You should fuck me now.”

“I will,” he repeats, his hand on your hip. He looks you up and down, and then Dr. Reid’s hand is sliding across your thigh, his fingers slipping up the hem of your skirt. You feel calloused thumbs teasing at the waistband of your panties, feel them dip past the elastic to pull them down.

Cool air hits your cunt, as Dr. Reid slides your panties off your legs. He’s looking down at you, between your legs, clearly enjoying the view. You clear your throat, and he looks up at you, almost sheepish. He says, his voice cracking slightly, “You’re gorgeous.”

You smile. “You’re not so bad yourself, Dr. Reid.”

“Yeah?” He laughs. “I’m glad you think so.”

As you talk, Dr. Reid has mindlessly started to rut his cock along your leaking cunt, your steadily-flowing slick making the slide easy. It’s so good, even just the friction of your professor frotting against you. You hold back a moan, looking up into Dr. Reid’s eyes.

“Sir– Oh, fuck,” you moan, as his cock slips inside of you with the way he grinds against you, your hole letting him in too easily. You’re so wet that he’d just slipped in. The feeling stuns you both, wet heat around Dr. Reid’s cock. He’s still rocking his hips back and forth, which pulls him out of you and pushes him back in. The head of his cock pushes back into you, and you both moan. You cry, “More, Dr. Reid.”

Dr. Reid steadies himself as he starts to fuck you, the movement of his hips shifting as he thrusts into you proper. There’s a practised ease in his thrusts, confident as he takes you on his desk. Your head falls forward, hair in your face, as your body takes in the feeling of your professor’s cock buried inside of you.

“You feel so good,” Dr. Reid grunts, his cock fucking in and out of you. He’s filling you up just the way you need it, his thickness stretching you out so deliciously. You clench around him at the praise, and his hips stutter. “So tight for me, sweetheart.”

And then, you can’t explain what you do next. You can’t help yourself, as you wrap your arms around him and bury your face into his neck, smelling his musky perfume and sweat. You whimper. You feel so good you don’t know what else to do with your body, but Dr. Reid doesn’t push you away. One of his arms wraps around your waist, his hand on the small of your back feeling so warm through your thin top, even though you’re feeling so hot you could explode.

You feel yourself being pushed onto your back onto the heavy wooden desk, Dr. Reid’s weight pressing down on you. Like this, you feel his cock press inside of you impossibly deeper, and it’s so good you feel like screaming – you don’t, obviously you can’t, but you muffle a moan into his shoulder instead.

“Such a good girl,” Dr. Reid murmurs softly, his cock punching deep inside of you. Each of his thrusts sends electric pleasure up your spine, through your nerves, and you’re tearing up from how good this feels. “Fuck, I wish I could hear you scream for me.”

You whimper, a broken cry pressed against his neck. “Dr. Reid–”

“Oh, I know, sweetheart,” Dr. Reid coos softly. “You’re doing so good, keeping it down for me. So good for me.”

You don’t like feeling so pathetic, but Dr. Reid makes you feel safe even while you’re vulnerable, while he’s fucking you on his office desk. You sob, “Dr. Reid, it’s too good– I’m gonna cum, I– please–”

“Come on,” he grunts, his voice laboured as he pants. “Cum for me, my darling.”

Your gasp is louder than you’d like it to be, in a professor’s office of all places, but you feel too good to remember to keep it down. You shudder through your orgasm, unable to control the way your body reacts to all the pleasure given to you.

“Fuck,” Dr. Reid blurts, his cock sliding out of you faster than you expect. You whine, but Dr. Reid is cumming all over your cunt, thick, hot spurts all over already-slick skin. “Oh, shit. Fuck.”

You’re thankful Dr. Reid didn’t cum inside, only because he didn’t have a condom on. You feel like a mess, but Dr. Reid’s looking at you like you’re a goddess. You feel his softening cock resting on your thigh. You want to go again, to feel him inside of you again, but perhaps that’s too desperate.

When his head is clear, Dr. Reid is quick to step back, reaching into the desk drawer.

“Sorry, let me just–” The commandeering, dominant Dr. Reid you just met is now gone, back to his slightly silly, bumbling self. He takes two wipes out from the packet of wet wipes he had pulled out from the drawer in his haste, but his hands are gentle when he wipes you clean. His touch is soft, sweet, and you feel so special in his hands. “I’m sorry I made a mess of you.”

You chuckle. “Dr. Reid, I’m more than okay with it. I think it comes with the territory.”

He smiles, albeit a little awkwardly. “Yeah, you’re right. I just don’t do this often, I suppose.”

“Oh, please. As if you don’t have other students throwing themselves at you too, Dr. Reid,” you laugh, waving him off.

“I do, but I’ve never done anything with them. Even if they try to proposition me, I tell them to leave my office. I’ve only… It’s just you.”

You’re stunned for a moment, blinking up at him. “You… Seriously?”

He frowns slightly. “Does it seem like I sleep around with my students often?”

“No! No, I just– I didn’t expect that. I thought you would be more… experienced? Considering how readily you let me… seduce you. I guess.”

“You’re definitely convincing,” Dr. Reid smiles. “Besides, I think you’re really special. I’ve never had a student like you.”

“Oh,” you say, because what else can you say in this scenario? Should you say anything else? It’s starting to hit you now, the implications of what you’ve just done walking into your professor’s office like this. “That’s… flattering.”

He tilts his head, brows furrowing. “Your pause seems to imply you don’t really mean that.”

“Oh, no, Dr. Reid, not at all, I–” You shake your head. “I’m really flattered that you think I’m special, I just– I’m not sure how I can navigate this. We’ve had sex, and it’s really hitting me now that I should not have seduced my professor because that’s definitely a violation of conduct, and–”

“Hey, relax,” Dr. Reid says, putting his hand on your shoulder. You breathe in deep. Dr. Reid looks at you warmly, and says, “I know we probably shouldn’t have done this, but I couldn’t resist you. And besides, it’s already done. We’re close to the end of the semester anyways. If you– I– If you want to continue this… outside of campus, I’d be more than happy to.”

“Dr. Reid,” you gasp, shocked that your professor would even be interested enough in you to suggest something like that. A relationship, outside of class? Or whatever it is he was thinking of. Frankly, even if Dr. Reid wants to meet once a month just to fuck, you’d take whatever you could get, especially with a man as gorgeous as him.

“Call me Spencer. Please,” he smiles. “Outside of class, at least.”

You grin. “Okay, Spencer.”

#spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem reader #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #spencerreidenjoyer writes

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hannieoftheyear · 8 months ago

Text

7 Days (kmg)

Can feelings change in only seven days?

During a seven-day vacation with your friends, you try to get over your feelings for one of them.

Feeling alone, surrounded by people who seem closer to each other than you, you find comfort in the one person that you didn’t know before.

✧.* pairing: kim mingyu x fem reader

✧.* w.c: 26k

✧.* genre: best friend's brother, strangers to lovers, fluff, comfort, smut, angst.

🎧: 7 days — g-idle

✧.* content warnings: ages are not specified but mingyu is mentioned to be a little older (once), some anxiety themes, alcohol consumption, MDNI! protected penetration, exhibitionism (just a lil), fingering, masturbation, cum play, lmk if i miss something important!

✧.* remember! this is a fictional work, it doesn't represent how any of the real people mentioned are like in real life!

✧.* note: this took so long to finish! i've had a crazy couple of months at uni, but luckily i passed all of my midterms :) i really hope you like this ♡♡♡

ONE WEEK BEFORE

Your eyes focus on the pavement below as you walk, head low and not a single word coming out of your mouth. Your steps and Minghao’s are coordinated, muscle memory moving them forward through the city. Each block memorized in both of your brains, each closed shop and parked car, the blinking lights and broken pieces of pavement, all so familiar to you yet coated with a nostalgic feel. You’ve walked the same path together countless times before, but tonight there’s an awkwardness impossible to shake away.

A third body walks by his side. Sami’s fingers are tangled with his with familiarity as they engage in a conversation you choose not to take part in. A question flies your way every few minutes, and you know they’re trying to include you so you don’t feel out of place, but nothing comes to mind besides one-word answers. You laugh every now and then, just so they know you’re at least a little bit engaged.

The pavement changes color under your feet and you know you’re barely minutes away from your home, finally. You like their company, you really do. And you appreciate them walking you to your door this late at night. But their presence can be suffocating.

You can’t avoid feeling guilty about your... feelings. She's one of your closest friends yet she never mentioned starting a relationship with the guy you were in love with. If you would’ve known, you would’ve never let your feelings progress beyond a tiny crush. You would’ve never deluded yourself into thinking he may also like you. For the record, you never told her either, but the only friend you trusted with your feelings also failed to mention that detail. You felt betrayed at first, but deep down you always knew they were closer to each other than to you.

They’ve been together for months now, but even if you’re used to seeing them kiss and hold hands, the awkwardness in your body doesn’t care. Every time you see him your hands are going to shake, and you mind will go blank. Inside, you can’t help to feel giddy anytime he takes interest in your answers to his questions, and you always feel bad after. So, when they insist that they’ll walk you home, you refuse. Not only you feel awkward around them, but now you have to be the third wheel? You'd rather not. But they don’t take a no for an answer, and thus, your current situation.

Your front door appears on your sight, and you feel instant relief. You're quick to bid them goodbye and thank them for keeping you company. Even though you kept saying they could just turn around and you’ll be fine many times over the walk, you don’t want it to seem like you hate their company. Their presence is not the problem, you are.

As you turn around to open your door, your name is called and you’re instantly facing them again.

“We’re going to Chan’s grandfather’s house on the beach next week. You should come!” Sami invites you with a smile on her face. She says it so sweetly you almost don’t care that they’re telling you with such short notice.

“Oh! I don’t know, I'm kinda behind on some homework for the semester,” it’s not a lie per se, you do have some stuff due after the break, but it can be done in a day. You like your friends, and you always have a good time when you’re all together, but a group of ten people can be overwhelming, “I have to think about it.”

“C’mon it’s spring break! We’ll go to the beach, play card games and get drunk!” Sami tries to convince you again. The fear of missing out on fun times with them starts overpowering your need to run away from your feelings. You think about it for a second too long.

“We really want you to come, please?” Minghao steps in. His statement sounds so honest as he looks at you directly in the eyes. You fear you will never be able to say no to him.

Your gaze can’t stand his for long, his eyes are almost piercing though your soul waiting for an answer. You’re quick to break eye contact and look at Sami, who’s waiting for your answer just as expectantly as Minghao. They’re still holding hands as they face you, fingers interlocked, like there’s some external force that’s keeping them from separating.

What can possibly be worse? Rotting in your bed for a week, thinking about how you could be having more fun away with your friends? Or spend a full week around the man you could never have and his perfect girlfriend? You juggle your options in your head as fast as you can.

“Ok I’ll be there.” You end up saying at the sight of their pleading eyes.

“Great! I’ll text you the details tomorrow, bye!” Sami excitedly replies as they walk away, and the feeling on the pit of your stomach starts to bubble up again. You can just ignore them from time to time. You don't have to spend all 24 hours by their side. It’s completely fine.

DAY ONE

The week flashes through and, in an instant, you’re already packing for the trip.

Your mind spirals, thinking of excuses to not go, but it stays empty as you zip up your bag, go downstairs, get in a taxi and go to Chan’s place where you’re supposed to meet everyone. It's only a 10-minute ride to his house, but today, it feels like hours. Watching the buildings pass by through the window, the streetlights still on and the sun barely peeking through the horizon, hundreds of thoughts cloud your mind, running through your brain like they’re on a race, competing on which one’s can stress you fastest.

But you calm yourself as soon as you see Chan standing on the sidewalk at the distance. He always looks genuinely happy to see you, always inviting you to hang out because he knows you’re not going to do it yourself. He's just so warm and welcoming, always knows how to make you laugh, even on the toughest moments. He's someone you could call a best friend. When he and Jihyun started dating, it made sense. She’s someone who, in the best way possible, never shuts up. He lets her talk and watches her with glossy eyes, as if what she was saying was the most interesting thing he’s ever heard. In a way, you should’ve known they would’ve been perfect together, but you were too caught up in your own feelings and didn’t notice your two best friends liked each other. Maybe that’s why she confided in Sami instead.

A bear hug welcomes you as soon as you get out of the taxi. Your bag drops on top of your feet as you hug Chan back, squeezing him like you haven’t seen him in ages. You have about three seconds of peace until you have to speak up.

“My bag’s crushing my feet.” You giggle with your mouth right beside Chan’s ear, so he hears you perfectly and laughs with you. He moves down to pick it up himself but is shocked by the weight.

“Did you bring your fucking desk? Why is this so heavy?”

“Hey! I just brought the essentials.” You did in fact only bring essentials, besides plenty of clothes, a lot of underwear just in case, your skincare, a hair drier and a few towels. Years of vacations going wrong taught you that those things can really make the difference.

“It's only a week...”

“A girl always has to be prepared.” You reply mysteriously as you walk away from him and into his house, forcing him to carry your bag inside for you. He follows right behind you, and when you cross the door, another voice welcomes you.

“She’s right you know,” Jihyun tells Chan while hugging you, “last month you forgot the toothpaste when we went to the lake! If I hadn't brought my travel bag you would have yellow teeth right now.” Chan huffs but doesn’t argue with her, he just smiles and gives her a peck.

Sami and Minghao are talking in the kitchen, so you only wave at them. Her shiny long black hair is tied up in two buns, and it contrasts perfectly with his disheveled light brown hair. Gyuri, Vernon and Jeonghan are playing some card game on the coffee table, you could hear her screams from the door, he probably cheated, and she only realized after losing. Miyoo looks at them, with a bored expression that doesn’t change as she sees you walk in.

After saying hi to everyone, you notice your bag already beside a couch, so you sit there. Looking around, you realize you’re the last one to arrive, as all your friends are already here. Right as your about to question what you were waiting for; Chan speaks up again.

“Ok so, Joshua told me yesterday that he couldn’t come, his shitty job didn’t give him the days off,” everyone collectively ‘oohs’ at the news, “and I know we had planned the budget with all ten of us,” He gets interrupted again as Vernon walks out of the bathroom and sits beside him, “so I… invited my big brother. I hope you’re all cool with that I’m sorry I didn’t ask you before it was just so sudden, you all know him he’s chill, and he won’t-"

“It’s ok bro we don’t mind.” Minghao steps in to calm Chan down. Everyone agrees with him instantly and he visibly calms down. It seems everyone has already met Chan’s brother, besides you.

You’ve been to Chan’s house a fair share of times, but almost always his family wasn’t home, and if they were they just kept to their own and let you hang out. And you know your friends sometimes hang out without you, you don’t mind, so they probably are more familiar with Chan’s family than you are. A new addition to the trip doesn’t bother you, you’re probably not gonna talk to him much anyway. You’re usually very quiet around your friends, especially when all of them are around. So, it’s not going to be different this time.

“Great! Then we can start heading our way then.” Everyone stands up and grab their bags simultaneously at his words, eager to finally start the trip.

“You said then two times babe.” You hear Jihyun joke as you head out.

“I know I was nervous ok." Chan laughs with her.

The sun is already out by the time everyone is out the door. Orange rays enlighten the world and blind you lightly if you stare at the fiery sun for too long. It’s a beautiful sight for a long road trip.

You squint, trying to gain your sight back, and the first thing your eyes land on is a truck you’ve never seen before, and a hilariously tall muscular man standing against it. Just when you think you might’ve seen him before, Chan walks over to him and hugs him.

“Oh right, this is my brother,” Chan turns around and speaks directly to you, “I don’t think you’ve met him yet.”

“Our budget savior!” you cheer before directing to his brother, “Hi! I'm Y/N.” Your right hand moves forward to shake his awkwardly.

“I’m Mingyu,” He chuckles lightly at your cheer and shakes your hand back. A tiny, almost unnoticeable, electric current runs through you at the touch, alerting all of your senses. Fortunately, he doesn’t notice because he’s looking at your bag in your other hand and then back up to your eyes, “are you riding with us?”

“Oh! I don’t know,” the question startles you, and you look at Chan panicking a little inside, “if you guys don’t mind!”

“I don’t mind, c’mon,” Mingyu cuts Chan before he can reply, takes your bag out of your hand to put it in the trunk and you follow him back. You take the chance to look back at the other cars, Sami’s already behind the wheel of one of them while Minghao puts Gyuri’s and Miyoo’s bags in their trunk, and Vernon and Jeonghan are already sitting inside the other car, waiting. Your body relaxes. Riding with Jihyun, Chan and his brother might be the best option. It’s not that you don’t like the others, but you’re quite sure Miyoo just doesn’t like you, and you’re not close enough with neither Jeonghan nor Vernon to be in a closed space together for six hours.

While Mingyu makes space for your bag in the trunk, your eyes can’t help to scan him up and down. If you thought Chan was buff, nothing could’ve prepared you for his brother. As he moves the heavy bags to accommodate yours, you think his arms are probably double the size as yours, if not more.

“Is this your car?” He finishes placing everything and you ask him something before he can catch you staring.

“It’s our dad’s but I use it more often than him nowadays,” he closes the trunk and finally turns to look at you, “you wanna take the shotgun seat? I don’t want to listen to my brother’s playlist again. I used to like it but now I’m kinda tired of it.”

It takes your brain a second to register what he’s asking you, “it’s fine by me,” you reply in a chuckle and you both start walking to the front of the car, “but I don’t think you’re gonna like my music better. I exclusively only listen to Taylor Swift.”

You hear a gasp coming from him, and turn your head aside to find him with his hand on his chest, dramatically looking at you with a shocked face, “how could think that? Can a man not like Taylor Swift?”

Your attempts to hold your laughter fail, and the back on your hand flies to hit him lightly on the arm.

“I’m not judging you! It was mostly a warning that you’re not gonna hear much diversity in artists.”

“It really is fine by me. I like a few of her tunes by the way.”

“As you should!”

In a few steps, you stop right beside the passenger's door. Mingyu’s about to open the door for you when you hear Chan complaining behind you.

“Hey! I thought I was riding shotgun!”

“Sorry! It seems your brother likes me better already!”

“How could you!” He crosses his arms feigning annoyance and you and Mingyu chuckle at him, your gazes crossing for a second. You sit down, ignoring Chan’s fake complaints, as Mingyu closes the door for you and circles around the front of the car to his seat.

After four hours into the ride, two bathroom stops, tons of singing and shouting to Taylor Swift's hits and Mingyu surprisingly knowing all the lyrics to Anti-Hero, the car sits in a comfortable silence. Chan fell asleep almost half an hour ago, that’s when the karaoke sessions stopped, Jihyun’s reading some book on her phone, Mingyu’s focused on the road and you’re admiring the view. The smell of wet grass from the dew envelopes the car, the wind ruffles your hair harshly, but you don’t care, and every now and then you’ll pass through a farm, and you’ll see the animals from far away.

Conversation strikes up again when Chan wakes up after a loud gasp Jihyun let out because of her book. The car becomes alive with laugher, telling funny stories from high school to Mingyu, and Chan’s complains about how you’re spilling too many secrets to his brother.

Jihyun starts telling a story you heard a million times, so you tune out and take the chance to take a proper look at Mingyu. His eyes are focused on the road, but he’s paying special attention to what’s being told to him, reacting to every detail and asking questions every now and then. His tan skin glows thanks to the morning sun. You can see a tiny glint in his eyes and how his nose scrunches when he giggles, but what catches your attention the most are his moles, highlighted by the sunlight, there are a few sprinkled on his cheeks and an especially cute one on the tip of his nose. It's undeniable that Mingyu is very handsome, and polite, and funny, and hot, and if you weren’t so stuck in your feelings, you know you’d probably crush on him for the whole trip.

How come you’ve never noticed him before? You’re sure he must’ve been at Chan’s house at the same time as you at least a couple of times, but you don’t remember ever saying hi to him. You think you’d remember him.

Chan and Mingyu’s grandparent’s house is huge. It’s probably more of a mansion than a house. Each of you have your separate individual rooms, and the two couples get the two big rooms. The entrance welcomes you with a shoe rack that can fit almost twenty pairs of shoes, the kitchen has two ovens and the biggest island you’ve ever seen, and probably ever see, and the living room has couches so big that you could take a nap, and everyone would still be able to sit comfortably.

Right by the living room there’s a door to a small back porch that goes straight to the beach. It’s peaceful and beautiful, and you wish you could stay here more time.

After snooping around the house, you finally go to your bedroom, that’s luckily on the first floor, and settle your stuff down. The room is almost as big as your own living room. There’s even a desk where you can put your laptop and a few drawers for your clothes, but what takes the cake is the on-suite bathroom that has a full-length mirror and a bathtub as big as the bed.

And you must’ve been exhausted because as soon as you lay in bed you fall asleep.

When you wake up, the sun is starting to set and the smell of something being cooked fills your nostrils. Three soft knocks at your door wake you out of your haze, and the mysterious person opens your door just barely enough.

“Hey,” Jihyun whispers, her head peeking inside the room, “we're setting up the table for dinner.”

“I’ll be right out.” You half groan half whisper in your sleepy voice.

It’s kind of funny in a way.

When you go out of your room after a nap that was definitely too long, the door of the room right in front opens at the same time, revealing a just woken up Mingyu.

It’s funny, that you both, being the ones less close with the rest of the group, end up together in this side of the house, the only rooms on this corridor, while the other two rooms downstairs are across the house and the rest are upstairs.

“You took a nap too?” You ask Mingyu as you walk towards the dining room side by side.

“Is it that obvious?” His voice is still raspy.

“Not at all, if we don’t take in account the messy hair or that your shirt is inside out.” You joke, still a little sleepy.

“Oh shit.”

The innocent conversation completely shifts when he stops in his tracks, takes his shirt off to and puts it back the right way. You’re frozen in place, now fully awake. You obviously could tell he was big and buff, but seeing him shirtless, even if it was just for a second, is completely different territory. He pays no mind to you and keeps walking.

A group of voices coming from the dining room take you out of your trance and remind you what you were doing. “I need a drink.”

DAY TWO

You’re not sure what you did yesterday after dinner. One drink turned into shots with Jihyun, and then everyone was drunk, playing some stupid drinking card game. That memory is already blurry, but after that is just a void.

As soon as you open your eyes, you regret it. The sun beams brightly directly to your face, increasing the feeling of someone drilling into your skull. It’s your first full day on the beach house and you’re completely wrecked. The only thing you want to do right now is take a pill for your headache and have a fulfilling breakfast.

There’s complete silence around the house, only the birds chirping and the waves crashing accompany you as you walk to the kitchen. Most probably everyone's in the same state as you but opting to stay in bed to sleep the hangover off.

“Oh hi! I didn’t think anyone was awake.” You really don’t mean to be mean, but Mingyu’s presence startles you. You were yearning for some alone time in the morning, peaceful and quiet, at least until the others wake up.

“Good morning. Yeah I just woke up,” his drowsy voice confirms it, “I don't think anyone else is awake tho.” You only hum in response, noting that you both are too sleepy to engage is small talk.

Mingyu’s company proves not to be dreadful like you thought. Both of you mind your own business, sitting down while eating breakfast and killing time with your phones in comfortable silence. It’s nice, the atmosphere isn’t awkward and there are no expectations from either of you, only two people starting the day at the same time.

“You and Jihyun seem close,” Mingyu breaks the silence and looks at you after putting his phone down.

“She’s one of my best friends.” It’s your turn to put your phone down to look at him. “She and Chan were the ones who introduced me to the rest of the group actually.”

“Yeah? How did you guys meet?”

“It’s kind of a long story.” You sound dismissive even if you don’t want to, Mingyu doesn’t strike you as someone who cares about high-school drama and you don’t want to bore him to death. “Just high-school stuff.”

“Well now I’m curious.” He fixes his posture to face you properly. “I’m listening. C’mon we have all morning.”

“Okay,” you chuckle at how eager he suddenly sounds, “basically, I moved cities right before senior year and she was my first friend in my new high school. I also met Chan on my first day since he gave me the tour.”

You stand up to grab both of your cups, he notices and moves his hand to give you his cup himself. His hand barely grazes yours, but the touch is electrifying. Panicked, you move away quickly, put the cups in the sink and keep going with the story.

“Me, Jihyun and three other girls formed a group. We were all best friends and would always hang out together, but it didn’t last long. Long story short, Jihyun and one of the girls had a big fight and she kinda left the group, became friends with Minghao and Chan and cut her relationship with the rest of the girls. I was the only one still talking to her, and yeah, the group started crumbling.”

“This is very high school.” Mingyu jokes and you agree.

“I told you! But it gets worse. So, this girl Hyerim, the girl Jihyun fought with, didn’t like that I was still talking to Jihyun and would always turn around at the sight of her. Just childish behavior that eventually started pissing me off, because every time she saw me talking with anyone even remotely close with Jihyun, she would get mad at me. It’s stupid I know, we were 18, and I just I thought those kinds of fights only happen in middle school, but I guess I was wrong.”

“Oh my god, are we talking about Hyerim?” Jihyun suddenly enters the kitchen, clearly just woken up.

“Mingyu wanted to know our story.” You chuckle at her disgusted face and joke. “Our favorite topic.”

“She sounds very immature.” Mingyu adds to your joke, not very interested in dissing some girl he doesn’t know, just adding to the teasing.

“She was a controlling bitch you couldn’t fathom her friends having other friendships beside her, she wanted followers, not friends.” Jihyun can’t help to get angry for a moment, so you intervene.

“Yeah well, luckily I escaped her claws and you and Chan adopted me, like a stray kitten." Your arms wrap around her shoulders, and you give her a peck on the cheek. "My saviors!”

“I think I’m gonna go back to bed, my head’s killing me.” Jihyun whispers while patting your hip and starts walking away from the kitchen. "Bye guys, really nice chat.” Her sarcastic tone impossible to miss.

“We don’t really talk about it much. We can get really pissed.” Your eyes are back to Mingyu, who’s gaze never left your figure.

“I get it tho, it sounds like a really shitty situation.” Weirdly enough and even if he didn’t intend to, he comforts you. Mingyu doesn’t make you feel stupid for still having feelings about a fight that took place years ago.

After a while, more people wake up and a plan is made to go to a hiking spot Gyuri found close to the house.

But all morning and even during the afternoon, all you can think about is how you’ve spoken more words to Mingyu at breakfast than to all your friends in two days, how comfortable you felt alone with him, no expectations, no need to pretend to be someone you’re not. In that moment, you were just you.

“And then he pooped! On the balcony floor!”

“No way! That’s disgusting!”

The bottle that was full an hour ago passes from Mingyu’s hand to yours, with now less than a third of the liquid left.

Avoiding Minghao proves not to be as hard as you thought, as people have been sticking to their own plans during the day, and everyone only being together at dinnertime and after.

Loud voices can be heard from the living room. They found a board game and made it into a drinking game, one they’ve been playing for over an hour, all while you were with Mingyu in the kitchen.

You’re both sitting on the floor with your backs against the island, facing the couches where everyone else is sitting, but neither of you make any attempt to join them. Some come and go, enter the kitchen to grab a drink and go back to the living room. Chan even told the both of you to join them, but you refused at the same time. The minutes go by without realizing, just talking about whatever, and you don’t feel the need to go where everyone is, you’re not missing out on anything.

“There’s no way that actually happened!” The words barely get out of you, between the laughs and the bottle on your lips.

“I got pics let me-” Mingyu’s hand heads for his front pocket to retrieve his phone.

“No!” You push him lightly to the side and you both break into laughter, “why would you take photos of that?” It’s a genuine question to ask, but it seems that you’re both a little too drunk to focus on more than one thing at a time because he doesn’t hear you.

“Why can’t I find them?” He’s looking through his gallery, and in your drunk haze, you don’t think your actions through. You put the bottle on the floor and throw yourself over him to take his phone away from his hand. Your arm stretches as far as possible to reach for Mingyu’s cellphone while the other is placed on Mingyu’s thigh for support, and you don’t notice how dangerously close your head is to his, or how your hand is dangerously high on his thigh, but he does.

You put all your core strength to use and manage to snatch his phone right out of his left hand. For a second, your surroundings become blurry, the voices are no longer background noise, it’s just you and Mingyu when you look up and his eyes on yours, faces barely inches away. You stare at each other, without blinking and with your breaths synchronized for what feels like minutes. A little smirk forms on the corner of his lips when his eyes glance at your lips for a millisecond, and you can’t take it.

“I can’t believe you have pics of a stranger's poop on your phone.” You chuckle awkwardly as you back away from him and sit on your previous position, a little sobered up. His phone is left on top of his leg, where your hand previously was.

“I didn’t actually take them, it was my friend that sent them to the group chat, if that makes it any better.” You look at each other before erupting into laughter once again, the awkward atmosphere already gone.

“It doesn’t!” You try to focus on your friends and the game they’re playing while Mingyu takes another sip from the bottle. There's silence between you for the first time in hours, the only thing you feel is his body so close to yours. Your knee sits on top of his, and you’re afraid that if you dare to move, he’ll realize your closeness and move away. You've known this man for two days, an objectively short amount of time to be so comfortable getting into the other’s personal space, but it doesn’t feel awkward.

“Do you think they’ll notice if we casually left to go to sleep?” His voice reaches your ears, not letting the silence get between you two, and overpowering the shouting coming from the living room.

“I don’t think so.” You look at your friends carefully. There doesn’t seem to be a piece missing in the group, nothing changes without you there, even if they all like you and you like them, there’s not much to add. “Maybe Chan will notice if you disappear suddenly, he keeps looking over.”

“Jihyun looks this way every now and then to look for you too.”

“They’re a very caring couple.” Just that second, both Chan and Jihyun look back to the kitchen and see you sitting on the floor, and you both crack up laughing.

You rest your head back against the island, and your eyelids feel heavy with tiredness. You try to fight the urge to close them, not wanting the night to be over yet, but it’s pointless. Your eyes close almost on their own, and your head falls softly to the side against Mingyu’s shoulder.

A soft smile appears on Mingyu’s face when he feels you rest on him. Warm and giddy, he’s careful not to move much as to not wake you up, but your heavy sighs signal him that you’re fast asleep. He stays that way, watching the others play while you’re resting for a few minutes. When you move slightly in your sleep to get more comfortable his breath hitches for a second, he doesn’t really want you to wake up.

Awfully, when everyone gets tired and cleans up the living room, it’s time for the house to sleep. They notice you asleep on Mingyu’s shoulder, a few knowing looks come your way, but most importantly, Chan’s worried look alerts Mingyu. He assures Chan that you’re okay, just tired, and tells him to go to sleep, that he’ll help you to your room.

DAY THREE

Second day in a row where you wake up feeling like the weight of the whole world is sitting on your head.

With your eyes still closed, you stretch your arm to the side you think you remember putting your phone at. Somehow you actually find it there and grab it to check the time, but soft knocks on your door interrupt you.

“I’m awake!” Even talking feels painful.

The door opens slightly, revealing a freshly showered Mingyu with his hair still damp and his skin shiny from the morning skincare.

“Can I come in?” It’s cute how he whispers. He most likely knows your head's killing you. Your nod gives him the okay and he comes in, like your knight in shiny armor, with an ibuprofen a glass full of cold water.

When he sinks down beside you, after placing the glass and the pill on the nightstand, you sit up. The warmth of his body beside yours awakes flashbacks of the night before, and remind you how you fell asleep on him.

“Oh my god!” Embarrassed, you cover your face with your hands. “I’m so sorry for yesterday, I swear I’m never drinking again.”

“It's okay.” Mingyu chuckles. “You didn’t bother me.”

“Really?” You move your fingers enough to uncover your eyes and side eye him. “You don’t have to lie.”

“I’m serious!” With one hand, Mingyu removes yours from your face so that you look at him properly. “We were both pretty drunk and having fun, I didn’t mind.”

“You look too good for someone who was drunk last night.” He doesn’t even have noticeable eye bags, while you’re probably as pale as a zombie and look like you slept only one hour. A smirk slowly forms on his face at your words.

“You think I look good?” He teases and makes you realize what you said exactly, but you’re not giving in that easily. Even if the blush fights to get on your cheeks and your stomach starts filling with butterflies. Even if your mind questions the reasons for his teasing and your eyes linger for a second too long on his smirk.

“For someone who got shitfaced 8 hours ago, sure.” You avoid his gaze and focus on the glass on the nightstand. You forgot it was there.

Your attention is now on hydrating and taking the ibuprofen pill, but you hear him chuckle again and stop drinking, “What?”

“Nothing.” His lips form a quivering line, and you know he’s fighting for his life not to laugh. “We’re all going to the beach later.” He gets up quickly, a light chuckle escaping at your questioning face. “You better not be hangover by then!”

“You’re not funny!” You shout at him as he leaves your room.

You smile as you finish the glass of water. You really try not to ponder about why that interaction left you so giddy, why remembering his smirk makes you all mushy inside, why your stomach contracts thinking about him caring enough to bring you something for your hangover.

When you decide the leftovers of the alcohol left your system for good, you change into your bikini, grab your beach towel and head to the backyard beach to join the rest of the guys.

At first, you join the girls sunbathing, snacking and chatting calmly. There's no sight of the guys, probably doing their own thing, guy stuff. The time passes easily, talking about university and gossiping about each other's coworkers, and it quickly becomes past lunch time. You almost don’t think about the night before, falling asleep on Mingyu’s shoulder and how he seemed okay with it.

It's nice spending time with the girls, even if you don’t talk much around them, they’re funny and you end up cackling and falling onto the sand multiple times.

You’ve done a good job staying away from Minghao these past two days, but there’s so much you can do before you have to face him again. And it seems that the universe thinks you’ve reached your limit.

A shirtless Minghao, wet from swimming in the sea, comes running your way, says good morning to you and asks how you woke up so nonchalantly, like his whole presence isn't messing up your whole nervous system. He never noticed and he’ll probably never know just how much he affected you. Now, for you, it’s just awkward. Remnants of your feelings still float around, making you feel guilty anytime you’ll see him and Sami acting all coupley, like right now. After saying hi to you, Sami got up and jumped to hug and kiss him, making it almost impossible for you to ignore, but your gaze doesn’t fix on them for too long.

Behind them, Vernon and Mingyu are setting up to play beach volleyball. It's a few meters away, not enough to see a lot of details but enough to leave you breathless. Since the morning, even if you won’t admit it, all you wanted was to see him again, but you hadn’t thought about the fact that you were at the beach, with warm temperatures and the sun shining brightly. Your stomach does backflips seeing his defined bare back as he’s setting up the net, a pretty mundane task, but something about how concentrated he is, in addition to the way his muscles tense, is driving you crazy inside. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if you had a fleeting crush on him for the time being, it’s not like you’re gonna see him much after anyways

Sometime during your haze, Jeonghan came up to ask if any of you girls wanted to play, you were too gone to answer, but Miyoo happily went along, and now they’re playing what seems like a friendly volleyball match, but you know it’s going to get competitive in no time. Minghao, Chan and Mingyu against Jeonghan, Vernon and Miyoo, it’s gonna get ugly.

Gyuri, Sami and Jihyun keep talking beside you, but you concentrate on the match, or you at least try to. You really try to, it’s just, he’s very distracting. The ball passes from one court to another swiftly, when one team scores, they make fun of the other and vice versa. The ball goes particularly far into Chan’s team’s court and Mingyu runs to get it, having to fall onto the sand to hit the ball from below, and it works, Minghao manages to throw it to the other team’s court, and they score.

It's common knowledge that people playing sports look as hot as they could possibly be, that’s probably why you’re basically drooling over Mingyu like he’s a full course meal and you haven’t had anything to eat in weeks.

Jihyun distracts you from your train of thought to tell you that her, Sami and Gyuri are going back inside to do something you don't get to hear. You're still a little in your head and only hum in response. Left alone with your thoughts, your eyes don’t want to leave Mingyu's figure, until his team ultimately wins the match thanks to points that he managed to score, and he glances at you, catching you staring, and smirks. That damn fucking smirk it’s gonna get you in trouble.

You lay down on your towel, because if your eyes are not on him, maybe you can get over it. Out of sight out of mind, as they say. But the peace is short-lived, as a few steps get close to you, getting sand all over your body and a shadow blocks the sun. You open your eyes reluctantly, and you wish you never opened them in the first place.

The sunlight is blinding, but not as much as the sight of Mingyu with his black swim shorts, sun-kissed skin, glistening from the sweat, and panting. It’s too much for you, and your eyes close instinctively, acting as if he didn’t disrupt your peace. You hear that damn chuckle, like a warning, before he sprinkles more sand on you.

“You’re really annoying, did you know that?” You intend to sound serious, but he’s caught up with your antics by now and just chuckles.

“Only when I’m trying to get someone’s attention.” You take a deep breath, to try and gather strength to not jump him right there and open your eyes as you sit up. He's quick to motion with his hands for you to scoot so he can sit beside you. Your eyes roll sarcastically, but you still slide to the side.

“How was the game?” The way he’s sitting, propped down on his elbows, tensing his biceps perfectly, almost like he’s doing it on purpose, so you try to focus on his face as he answers your question.

“They had nothing on us.” He says smugly while looking at the loser team undo the volleyball net. “But you saw that, so why are you asking?”

“What I saw was you struggling until the very end.” his teasing doesn’t get you this time, on the outside at least, because your mind is still a mess. “Good thing you managed to pull through though!”

He nods sarcastically at your response, but something else catches his attention before he can continue teasing.

“What’s their deal? Are they together?” You follow his eyes to see who he’s referring to: Vernon is running away from Miyoo, who’s chasing him with one of her flip flops on her hand and shouting something along the lines of ‘don’t run away you coward’. They’re both laughing, and you’re also used to it. You know their fights are not that serious.

“Vernon and Miyoo?” The hysterical laugh comes out of you before you’re able to stop it. “In Vernon’s dreams sure.” You joke but you can tell he’s seriously asking.

“Nah, I think she likes him too.” Mingyu lays down after his statement, with his hands behind his head, and closes his eyes to enjoy the last rays of sunshine of the day.

“Are they that obvious? You’ve been with them for three days and you already noticed." To you it was always obvious Vernon had a thing for Miyoo since Sami first introduced her to the group, but it’s funny that someone who doesn’t really know them also noticed.

“It’s always more obvious from the outside.” His answer catches you off guard. It leaves you thinking, and you can only hum in response. Were you that obvious when you liked Minghao? There were times when you felt Sami knew, but she never asked you about it, and since she and Minghao started dating you never felt those weird vibes again. Mingyu doesn’t press more on the subject at your silence, but yawns at your side and gets up, distracting you from your train of thought.

It’s beginning to get dark, bringing the temperatures down a bit, and the sunset paints the sky with a beautiful mix of oranges and pinks. It looks like a painting you’d see in an overpaid museum, and it would make that price totally worth it.

It seems you’re not the only one who noticed the pretty twilight sky, because Mingyu runs inside the house and comes back a few minutes later with a digital camera and wearing a black jacket for the cold wind. He walks around, taking pictures of different sides of the sky with different clouds and color patterns.

“Is that camera yours?” You prop down on your elbows to admire the sky and him, and you hear a light hum coming from him as an answer. “Didn’t know you were into photography.”

“I wouldn’t say I'm into photography, I just like taking pictures of what I find pretty.” Once he’s done taking pictures of the sky, he returns to his place beside you. “One of these days I want to wake up before the sun rises and just sit here, watching the stars disappear as the sun gets higher and higher.”

“It’ll probably be really peaceful.” Even if you’re alone at the beach now, you can still hear people talking from inside the house, probably deciding on what to have for dinner. You imagine sitting on the quiet shore at 6 am, with the only sound being the crashing waves and a few morning birds, the sky beginning to light up as the sun slowly rises and the morning wind ruffling your hair. “But the first step is to not get wasted the night before.”

“Or we could just stay awake and go to sleep after.”

“We? Who says I'm doing it with you?” You joke, but of course you’ll accompany him if he asked.

A sudden cold breeze makes you shiver and Mingyu notices, so he takes his jacket off and gestures for you to take it. You grab it silently, without much resistance, and notice he also put on a sleeveless t-shirt earlier. You’re embraced by his scent in no time. The jacket's giant on you when you put it on and zip it up, so the cold doesn’t make its way inside. You smile at him, and he returns it before answering your previous question.

“I’d just annoy you until you’re awake and you’d have no choice other than to come with me.” You can only chuckle at his response, wishing you could see what happens inside his mind.

“And I'd punch you for interrupting my holy sleep time.” You’re still laughing when you see a flash from the corner of your eye. “Did you just take a picture of me?” Mingyu shrugs with an amused look on his face and waits for the picture to load. “I probably look disgusting! Let me see.”

You try and stretch to take a glance at his camera roll, but he turns it off before you can see anything.

“Why would you look disgusting?”

“I... don’t know.” He has some kind of power to always surprise you with what he says. “I've been out here all day, I didn’t get the chance to check myself on the mirror.”

“I told you I only take photos of pretty things.”

This time, you can’t hide the blush that creeps up to your cheeks. No one has ever complimented you so directly, and it’s not like you’re new to flirting, but you’ve never quite felt like this. Maybe it’s because everything around you feels so dull, except for when you’re with him. When you’re around anyone else, you never feel the need to speak up, afraid they’ll don’t care or just straight up ignore you, but these past few days, when you spoke to him, you felt like he wouldn’t judge you. He paid attention, joked with you, and even chose to spend time with you when he could’ve hang out with anyone else. He's easy to be with, and it's tempting to want to spend every day with him, but also terrifying, because everything could change after the trip is over.

“Then let me see?” You try your luck one more time to see the photo, also to try and turn the conversation around so he doesn’t catch on to the effect he had on you, although it’s already too late.

“Don’t you trust me?” He looks at you with puppy eyes and a pout that could make anyone melt in an instant.

“Stop doing that!” You hit him lightly on his left arm.

“Doing what?” He replies, feigning innocence.

“You know what you’re doing.” Your look is serious, but he's amused by your reaction.

“And I think it’s working.” His eyes don’t leave yours, starting a staring contest between the two. None of you want to give up, raising your eyebrows to tease the other and titling your head to the side, but you don’t bulge and neither does he. You try to figure out the workings of his brain, if he feels the same things you do. You embarrassingly want to think that he does.

“Can I-”

“Guys!” Sami’s voice interrupts you and both you and Mingyu stop staring at each other to look at her, “Dinner is ready! Come inside!”

Only at her words do you realize the sun already fully set and the sky is painted a dark blue color, with the only thing visible being the moon and a few stars.

“W-we should get back inside.” You look back at Mingyu to find him already staring at you.

“What were you gonna say?” He stops you before you can get any farther.

“Oh, it’s nothing, c’mon they’re waiting for us.”

DAY FOUR

“And then she ghosted me! The nerve!” Gyuri finishes telling her story about a girl she hooked up with last month.

“But didn’t you just say you didn’t really wanna be with her? I don’t get it.” Jihyun asks what all of you were thinking.

“Yeah, but like, I don’t want to be the ghosted one!” You, Sami and Jihyun burst into laughter at her words.

You and the girls are sitting on the living room while the guys and Miyoo are outside playing a rematch from yesterday’s game of beach volleyball. As soon as everyone finished eating dinner, Miyoo demanded a rematch and everyone, with their competitive souls, agreed immediately. It’s already dark outside, but with the back lights on it’s possible to play, at least for a while before your eyes get tired.

The four of you ended up sitting around the coffee table, talking about relationship drama or just telling funny stories. You don’t have much to add to the conversation, so you just say a comment or joke from time to time and give your opinion when asked. That’s until you’re given the spotlight.

“So, Y/N,” Gyuri catches you off guard and you look at her confused, “what’s up with you and Mingyu?”

“That’s right! I see you together a lot these days.” Sami adds excitedly. Three pairs of eyes are now watching you closely, curious for your answer.

“Oh, nothing… I don’t know.” You shy away when a little smile cracks at your lips, hugging your knees close as you glance at the beach to see if you can spot Mingyu, but all you see is a blur due to the poor lighting. “We just happen to end up together a lot I think.” It is partially true, because it’s not like you actively searched for him.

“C’mon! Don’t you think he’s hot?” Gyuri’s so forward she just makes you laugh. “If I wasn’t a lesbian lemme tell you, the things I would do.”

“Gyuri oh my god! He's right there, have some decency.” Sami brings her back to earth.

“Right, sorry sorry.” she apologizes and takes a sip of her beer before speaking to you again. “But really, you should do something!”

“Like what? I don’t know guys maybe he’s not interested.” Do you want him to be?

“I saw you two at the beach yesterday and trust me, he is.” Sami puts her hand on your shoulder to make you look at her, and tries to encourage you, with no bad intentions whatsoever. She just wants to see you happy and you know that.

His words from the night before echo in your head. ‘It’s always more obvious from the outside'. But you don’t really want to talk about it out loud with them, afraid you’ll jinx it. Jihyun throws you a knowing look and opens her mouth, but she gets interrupted before she can outer a word.

“Guys! Guess what-” Chan suddenly enters the house and the four of you shut up instantly, guilty look on your faces. “Wow what were you talking about? Am I not allowed to hear it?”

“It’s girl stuff!” Jihyun doesn’t hide that he is in fact, not allowed to hear your conversation, and throws a pillow his way, but he doesn't budge. “What do you want?”

“What I was going to say was... we beat them!” You chuckle and the four of you applaud lightly.

“That’s great babe!”

“You should’ve seen them when we-” Chan comes inside to show off their win when gets interrupted by a sudden darkness. The power went out, and everything and everyone sits in silence for about two seconds before Jeonghan comes in.

“How does everyone feel about turning on the fireplace?”

Lighting the fireplace on turned out to be a great idea. Hours passed and the power is still out. All ten of you are sitting on the couches and on the floor, surrounding the only source of light and warmth, and drinking the beer that’s left from the previous days before it loses its gas.

It’s warm and cozy, and everyone is engaged in different conversations with the people by their side. You listen as Jeonghan talks about his new job at a museum, trying to pay attention, but it’s really difficult when, from the corner of your eye, you can see Mingyu and Minghao talking comfortably. It’s weird, seeing the guy that caused you so many emotional breakdowns over the past year talking with the only guy who was able to make you forget about it. Even if every day that passes you feel yourself getting more and more over him, there’s this little voice on the back of your brain reminding you how you stupidly thought you might’ve had a chance with him.

Someone by your side shifts and you see Jeonghan’s expression change before he exclaims, “no touchy coupley things when we’re all around!” Everyone’s eyes are now on the couple behind you. Jihyun just sat on Chan’s legs and they're just hugging, but Jeonghan’s low-key right, most of you are single and it looks like they're rubbing it on your faces, even if it’s not what they want.

“You’re just jealous because you’re lonely and sad.” Jihyun rebuttals and everyone huffs. It’s normal for them to bicker like this, so you just watch like it’s a comedy show.

“I’m single by choice, I’m not letting anyone tie me down.” Jeonghan replies proudly.

“Didn’t you go out with that girl for the whole winter? What was her name... Miyeon? Or what about Seungcheol last year?”

“Well, I’m all free now so”

“Then don’t come to me asking for tips on what to say to girls ever again.” That is the kind of burn that makes Gyuri start clapping like crazy, which she does.

“I’m sure everyone gets what I mean.” Jeonghan looks around, checking to see if anyone agrees with him. Even if it's quite dark, you can see a few heads nod in agreement, including yours.

“Oh c’mon! Doesn’t anyone here have feelings for someone?” Now Jihyun is the one looking for backup, but it’s something harder to admit. “If you like someone, then you know you want to be close to them, to touch them!” She makes eye contact with you, knowing you do understand her, because she was the only one you told about Minghao, because you used to tell her everything.

“No one?” She asks again, looking at everyone one by one, but no one comes forward. And she lastly looks at you again. You shake your head as panic starts invading you, fearing everyone will notice why you, what she means. You make eye contact with her probably for less than a second, but it feels like your whole life passes in front of your eyes.

“Ok, fair enough.” The tense climate stills the air, because even if Jihyun agreed to minimize the public displays of affection, her speech got to some of you, and it takes a few minutes for everything to go back to normal.

But you’re still anxious. You never discussed what happened with Minghao after you found out he was seeing Sami, you couldn’t. Her indirectly letting you know she remembers makes you feel seen, exposed, bare, like she just disclosed your deepest secret to the whole world, like everyone now knows the most pathetic thing about you.

Eventually, the atmosphere starts getting full of laughs and different voices again, but you’re still in your head, so much so that you almost don’t notice the power is back on.

As everyone is celebrating, you get up and announce quietly that you’re going to call it a night. Throwing some lame excuse, but no one really bats an eye, they just say goodnight and go back to their conversations. Everyone except for one person.

Mingyu, who’s been keeping an eye on you the whole night, and who’s already accustomed to your shyness, noticed that you got more reserved after Jihyun’s speech, but didn’t want to ask you anything that would make you uncomfortable in front on everyone. So, when you rapidly escape to go back to your room, he takes the opportunity to leave as well, putting the same excuse you did about being tired and not wanting to wake up super hangover again.

As you’re in tucked in bed, about to burst out crying in any second, Mingyu knocks softly on your door.

You don’t answer, staying as still as possible, trying to stop your sobs so nothing can be heard from outside. It’s been a few minutes since you left, so maybe it’s believable that you’re already asleep.

“Are you alright?” Hearing Mingyu’s voice shatters you and the tears and sobs become impossible to stop.

“Yeah, everything’s fine!” You wouldn’t believe you if you were him.

“You’re not fine.” He sounds actually worried

“How would you know? Just leave me alone!” Your voice breaks at the last words, telling Mingyu everything he needs to know

“I can’t just leave if I know you’re crying."

“Yes, you can! Just go!"

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily.” A playful tone mixes in his voice. “You can talk to me.” You know, but this is different. This is exposing something to him that makes you feel pathetic, idiotic, and it's much more than you ever told anyone

There’s silence while you consider letting him in. He’s not a stranger, not anymore, but he’s oblivious enough to the situation that he wouldn’t care about the drama. Maybe you can trust him not to tell anyone. And he cared enough to come and check on you, which is way more than what anyone else did.

Mingyu waits for you, worried about what could’ve caused you to leave so suddenly and start crying alone in your room.

“I’ll be in my room if you need anyth-" He was about to give up when you open your door just barely, as to not let the corridor light reveal your blotched, tear-stained face. But you don’t stay there, you run back to the bed as he figures out that you’re letting him in.

He enters your room carefully, slowly stepping in and closing the door behind him. Even with the lights off, he sees you sitting on your bed, legs crossed and back against the wall while you’re fidgeting with your fingers, avoiding his eyes. Before he says anything, he sits beside you on the bed, testing what you’re comfortable with. When he’s sure you’re not going to tell him to fuck off, you finally hear his voice.

“What’s wrong?” He experimentally puts one hand on your knee, trying to comfort you, but it ultimately makes you sob a little before you reply.

“You have to promise not to make fun of me.” You’re still avoiding looking at him, entranced looking at his hand, but when he doesn’t answer you for a few seconds, you look to the side to meet his eyes, and only then he notices how serious your request is.

“I’d never make fun of you, or what made you sad like this.” He fixes his posture, sitting back against the wall like you and legs stretched on the bed. “If you’re comfortable, you can tell me, but if you’re not, then I can at least try and make you feel better, take your mind somewhere else, whatever you need.”

Stupid. You feel stupid. Crying about something that happened months ago, about a guy that isn’t really worth your time, when in front of you have this perfect man that for two days has made you feel more comfortable than anyone has ever. Sure, you don’t know if he just does this for all his friends, if you can even call this a friendship, but at least he cares. In this moment, you feel you could tell him anything, your deepest secrets, and he would welcome it with open arms. You'd do the same for him.

“You also can’t tell anyone,” you rush to add, “like, not even Chan, okay?”

Mingyu nods, a little smile showing up at his face as he realizes you’re really trusting him. “I promise.”

And you do. You open up to him, trusting him with what you have been carrying on your back these past few months that you didn’t trust no one else with.

You tell him how you always liked Minghao. How you found out you actually went to the same middle school but didn’t know each other. And how you thought he liked you back. How you don’t even like to talk about people you fancy, but you trusted Jihyun with it, before she distanced from your group and from you. How she suddenly became close with Minghao and his friends. How every time you managed to be with Jihyun alone, she would show off that she talked on the phone with him every day, that she regularly crashed at his place after work, that he often paid for her meals. She obviously had started liking him too, and it killed you inside. You couldn’t talk to her because his name would always come up somehow. A few weeks pass, you fight with your friends, and Jihyun and her new group welcome you in. They start inviting you to their hangouts, to their houses (often Chan’s). You always felt a little bit out of place, even if Chan and Jihyun always tried to invite you, and even if they always made sure to engage with you in conversations. But you were happy, you had a group of friends you saw every week, who made you laugh if you were going through rough times, and you got to spend time with the guy you liked. It wasn’t perfect, but it was good, until it wasn’t.

And after you finished senior year, the group was still intact. Hanging out whenever everyone could and talking on the group chat constantly. Except, you saw Minghao more often because you got into the same college, and even though you were on different majors, you still managed to bump into each other. One Friday, long after, everyone managed to get free to see each other after so long, you all went to some bar and you didn’t realize how late it got, so Minghao, being that he lived close to you, offered to take you home. Things happened and you ended up sleeping together. He was your first, God how pathetic is that, and it just solidified how much you liked him, and you thought it meant something for him too. But nothing changed after that, you two never talked about it and he just pretended nothing happened. And you didn’t tell anyone about it.

Months later, on Chan’s birthday, people started telling inside jokes that you didn’t understand about Sami and Minghao, teasing them to no end until they both turned red. When you looked at Gyuri for context, she whispered that they’ve been on numerous dates in the last few months. Your heart dropped, you had to pretend that everything was fine for the rest of the night, but as soon as you got home, you started crying and overthinking. If this was going on for months, were they already something when he slept with you? Did that solidify to him that he liked Sami? All the times you thought maybe Minghao was flirting with you were probably just your mind fucking with you, or the worst cascenario, he was flirting with the both of you until he decided which one he liked best. You felt stupid, pathetic, but most of all you felt betrayed. Because everyone knew, including Jihyun. And all this time you geeked to her about every interaction with Minghao, telling her every detail, she knew he was seeing someone else. Sure, your relationship had changed, she had new best friends, and she probably didn’t want to disclose something about Sami’s personal life, but letting you delude yourself was just mean.

Days passed, and a new secret was revealed to you, that Jihyun and Chan started dating. This just enforced what you thought that she just didn’t trust you anymore, you weren’t as much of a part of her life as before. You never talked about Minghao with her again, the last time she asked you about him was the same day you found out her and Chan were dating, almost half a year ago. But the topic ended there, and it was never brought up again, until tonight.

“So, earlier when she talked about liking someone and she looked directly at me,” you breathe for the first time in at least half an hour that you’ve been talking to Mingyu nonstop, “she was referring to me liking him, and I felt so exposed, her looking at me right in the eye trying to make me confess to liking someone just so she can win an argument, it felt like I was naked and at her mercy in front of everyone.” You feel like a huge weight was lifted from your shoulders.

You can still feel tears rolling down your face. Sometime during your talk, Mingyu put his arm around you, and you rested your head on his shoulder. You’re sure his sweatshirt must be damp with tears now.

He doesn’t say anything for a while, letting you calm down and stabilizing your breathing. You concentrate on his breathing and his fingers drawing circles on your shoulder.

“Thank you.” You finally speak up after a few minutes of silence.

“For what?”

“For listening.” You answer like it’s an obvious thing. “It was a lot, and you didn’t have to, but you listened anyway.”

“Of course, and I asked, didn’t I?” You chuckle lightly. He has a way of making everything easier.

“So, what do you think?”

“Do you really want my opinion?”

“I asked, didn’t I?” You copy what he said before and he chuckles.

“I think you should tell them how you feel.” You don’t look at him, but you can feel his eyes on you, as if analyzing how you respond to what he said. “They’re your friends after all, they’ll understand.”

“I've thought about it, I’m not very good at that kind of talks, I kinda just keep it to myself until I get over it.”

“I don’t mean to be harsh, but it doesn’t seem to be working.” It’s hard hearing that, but it’s true. You’ve been carrying this for years and you’re still crying over it.

“Wow.” He’s not trying to be mean, but it really left you speechless. “Maybe I should… to get it off my chest at least.”

“You don’t have to, but maybe you’ll get some closure with Jihyun that way, that’s the only way she’ll know she’s making you upset.”

“No, you’re right, I’ll talk to her.” When? You don’t know. "But only her, talking with Minghao kind of scares me, because what do I do if he forgot about it?”

“Don’t tell anyone but,” he starts, and you smile at his silliness, “I never really found Minghao likeable in the first place, I don’t know why, but now I have a reason to dislike him.” You can’t help to laugh.

“You don’t have to dislike him just because of what I told you, you should get to know him!” You don’t resent Minghao for what happened, and he’s still someone you can call a friend, regardless of your history.

You dare to look up at Mingyu from his shoulder, and your face is much closer to his than you thought. It’s dark in your room, only the moonlight providing you with enough light for you to see how his head turns slowly to meet yours, and his eyes encountering yours, like he knew you were staring at him.

“He’s an ass for what he did to you, and I don’t want to be friends with someone like that.” He speaks softly, almost in a whisper, but with such a serious tone that it gives you goosebumps. Your eyes can’t seem to leave his, and neither of you want to stop. It’s becoming a habit of you two to stare at each other, testing who’ll look away first. His breath fans over your face, and you think about his words. You knew Mingyu was a good listener, he proved it several times over the span of four days, but now he’s even taking what you said into consideration before establishing a friendship with someone? Sure, he already didn’t really like Minghao, or so he said, but you gave him a reason to, so he must believe and trust you enough to truly take it into account.

This time, Mingyu breaks the silence first. “Let’s go watch the sunrise tomorrow.” But he doesn’t break the eye contact. You swear you see a little spark in his eyes at his words, and it makes impossible for you to say no.

“You really want me to go with you?” You just want confirmation that he does, that he’s not taking pity in you after crying your eyes out in front of him.

“It’ll be sad if I go alone, and besides, you’re the one I like the most here.” And it’s like a thousand butterflies fly out of their cocoon simultaneously inside your stomach. "Don’t tell Chan I said that.” You both laugh at his words.

“We should go to sleep then, what time does the sun come out? Like 5:30 am?” You groan while saying the last words. You were never a morning person.

Cold hits you all around when Mingyu takes his arm off your shoulders and gets off your bed. You almost want to ask him to stay the night here so you can wake up together. But you don’t.

“I’ll come and wake you up, but don’t punch me please.” He jokes about what you said the day before and you chuckle. “Good night, see you in a few hours.” He says as he walks to your door slowly, hoping you’d ask him to stay. But you don’t, and he doesn’t say anything either.

DAY FIVE

Waking up so early in the morning isn’t difficult. You barely got any sleep; you spent the whole time watching the ceiling overthinking about everything that happened. You even heard Mingyu’s alarm in the distance, so when he knocked to wake you up, you were already ready.

The sky is starting to show more colors as the minutes pass. You’re sitting on a mat at the beach while Mingyu’s inside making coffee for the both of you. Is it wrong to think that there may be something more to your friendship with Mingyu? You’re almost certain you’re starting to like him, and these moments you’ve been having together don’t do anything to suppress your bubbling feelings. It’s dangerous, and you don’t want to let it go too far, not again.

You hear his steps behind you before you see him. He hands you the coffee in silence and you thank him with a smile. You’re both slowly sipping away your coffee admiring the colors of the sky as they become more alive the more the sun comes out. The soft morning breeze gives you chills, but the warm cup in your hand eases it away, and the waves crashing provide with enough background noise for it to not be completely silent. But being quiet with him hasn’t been uncomfortable, you don’t feel the need to fill the void, you’re just two people enjoying each other’s company.

As the sky turns orange and pink, with swirling clouds making it look like a painting, Mingyu takes his camera out and takes photos beside you. You watch him as he does his thing, changing the settings of the camera and picking different angles, mesmerized, and you don’t notice he says something to you.

“Sorry?” You come back to earth and find him looking at you already.

“I said I’m glad we did this.” His smile almost outshines the sun.

“Me too.” You smile back, afraid to show just how you really like to be with him, afraid to scare him away.

“You’re the first person that doesn’t think I’m weird for wanting to do this you know?” He mutters after he puts down the camera. “People always tell me it’s too much of a sacrifice.”

“That’s so stupid!” You huff, incredulous look on your face. “I get not wanting to wake up early on vacation but like, a sacrifice? That’s so dramatic.”

“You get it! Thank you.”

It’s quiet for a little while after. Every few minutes a new shade of orange paints the sky and Mingyu points his camera up to take more pictures. He probably took a thousand pictures already but shows no sign of stopping. You opt for laying down, the little sleepiness you felt already slipped away, and you’re left with your thoughts until Mingyu lays down too.

“I wish we could freeze time and just stay here like this.” You prefer being here alone with him than inside the house getting overwhelmed by everything. Here, it’s much peaceful, comfortable.

“That would be nice wouldn’t it.”

The sun is fully out by now, the birds already started singing on the background, and you can hear cars on the distance. The day officially started, you’re no longer on the limbo in between yesterday and tomorrow.

After everyone wakes up and has breakfast together, you and Mingyu take a quick nap before lunch time. Eventually the lack of sleep got to both of you, and you weren’t even able to keep a conversation going.

The house is suspiciously silent when you wake up, it’s probably 3 or 4 pm but no one seems to be at the house. Except for the one person you encounter when you go out to the porch for some air.

“Hey! You're finally awake!” Jihyun greets you with excitement, too oblivious about what happened the day before, “that was some nap!” Maybe you should really tell her, she has the right to know if you’re mad or upset at her. It's not like she forgot about what you’ve told her, you just have to let her know how that makes you feel. It’s easy!

“I think I passed out as soon as my head hit the pillow, I must’ve been too tired.” It comes out a little colder than you intended, hopefully she’ll mistake it by sleepiness.

“Were you okay yesterday? You went to bed so suddenly.” Now’s the time, you can’t just lie now, if you don’t tell her now then it’s pointless.

“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that.” You go to the point straight away and she notices your serious tone.

“Is everything okay?” There’s a little voice in your head telling you she’s not actually worried, but right now you decide not to believe it

“It’s about what you said yesterday, I wanted to ask you...” your hands shake as you lean against the rail by her side, looking at the beach, not so peaceful like in the morning now, and you turn your head to look at her. “It may be stupid but, were you like, indirectly asking me if I still like Minghao?” You do feel stupid as the words leave your mouth.

“Oh, I don’t really remember why I did that, I was kinda drunk and saying stupid shit.” You relax a little, at least she wasn’t trying to put you on the spotlight on purpose. “But maybe? I mean you never talked about him again.”

“I just thought it was awkward, since I became friends with everyone.” The conversation isn’t really going anywhere. You could leave it like this, but the topic out in the open and it could be the only chance to get answers, “and with you also liking him and all that.”

“I-I didn’t, I mean-” she stutters, and suddenly dropping the bomb that you know more information than she gave to you in the first place doesn’t feel right.

“It’s okay, well no it’s not really, you should’ve told me, but I’m past it by now.” Jihyun visibly relaxes at your words, but the air starts getting thicker, the atmosphere awkward.

“You’re right I should’ve told you, I’m sorry.” She avoids your eyes. You’re looking right at her, but she keeps her eyes on the ocean, or the sand, or literally anywhere else. “It was just a silly crush, it didn’t mean anything.”

“I don’t think it was, but it’s fine.” How can she just brush it off so easily?

“Actually, you don’t know how it was.” Suddenly now she’s capable of facing you, and her eyes are almost on fire, “we weren’t even friends by then, so you don’t know what it was like.”

“Why are you saying that like it’s my fault?” Anger starts to take over your brain, “and we were definitely still friends.”

“It just wasn’t the same and you know it.”

"You were the one who pushed me aside!”

“I pushed you aside? I welcomed you! When you were alone! I invited you to every hangout, every party, I invited you everywhere!”

“You stopped trusting me.” There’s a noticeable hurt in your voice, “you didn’t even tell me when you started to like Chan.”

“You were too busy feeling sorry for yourself that you didn’t notice, even Vernon noticed, and he has zero awareness of what happens around him.”

“Because my best friend liked the same guy as me and didn’t even tell me!”

“I just couldn’t tell you.”

“Yes, you could’ve! and I really still wanted to be friends with you, at least I thought we still were.” Flashbacks of times your other friends told you how you should stop taking to her come to your mind. “And you did tell me.” Jihyun looks confused at your statement. “Maybe not directly, but every time you decided I was good enough to have alone time with, and knowing just how much I liked Minghao, the only thing you ever talked about was him, and how smart he was, or how funny he was, or how he let you have his jacket, it was pretty obvious.”

Jihyun freezes in place. She looks down again and red stains start appearing on her cheeks.

“So yeah, I didn’t exactly want to talk about him with you.” This really isn’t turning out the way you thought it would.

“I- I didn’t realize,” you barely hear her whisper, “I wasn’t doing it on purpose.”

“Did you also just didn’t realize that it would’ve been nice to tell me that they were going out?” Their names aren’t said out loud, but Jihyun knows what you’re talking about, “I had to found out myself, and everyone knew except for me, stupid old me who was obliviously still hung up on him.”

“I’m sorry.” If you weren’t so angry, maybe you’d take pity on her and stop arguing, but at this moment, it just makes you madder.

“Do you know how horrible it is to see the girl who used to give you insecurities and the guy you’ve liked for years be together? Or how hard it is not to cry in that moment? Surrounded by other people who don’t know how you feel, while the only person who did know just ignores you?” Tears start blurring your vision, but you don’t let them fall, you can’t. “Luckily I don’t like him anymore, but the guilt is killing me.”

“She asked me not to tell anyone, they weren’t serious at first.”

“You could’ve just told me beforehand that he was seeing someone, you didn’t have to tell me who it was.”

“I’m sorry, I really am.” Jihyun looks at you in the eyes for the first time in minutes, her eyes also glittery with tears.

“And yesterday, I felt so exposed, like you only wanted me to confess so you could win a stupid argument, like my feelings didn’t matter at all.”

“I really wasn’t trying to do that, I’m serious.”

“It doesn’t matter what you wanted or didn’t want to do, that’s how it made me feel.”

“I’m sorry.” The front door opens on the other side of the house and a chorus of voices reaches your ears. What a time to have a full house again.

You both look inside at the first sound, and you can feel her eyes on you again a second after, but you can’t turn your head, you can’t look at her, not right now. Without looking back, your feet walk you off to the beach, maybe with a load off your shoulders, but a little more broken than before.

A walk alone might just be what you need. Tears don’t fall, the wind blowing them off before they can. By the time you come back, you find someone else alone on the porch, and it’s almost like the universe wants you to suffer today.

Minghao stands in the same place you were before, with his body resting on the rail and looking at the ocean. He sees you at the distance and waves, but you can only find the energy to give him half a smile.

It’s impossible to ignore him now, so you walk over to him and stand by his side in silence. But that doesn’t last long. Something in you seems to want to let go today, free you from everything you’ve been holding inside for so long. At this moment, revealing to him how you felt seems like the best option, and you don’t argue with your brain about it.

“I’m gonna tell you something,” your words catch his attention, and he turns his head to you, but you stay still looking ahead, “but you don’t have to say anything back, it’s just so I can let it go, okay?”

Minghao nods slowly, confused by your words but listening, nevertheless.

“I used to really like you, you know.” Your gaze catches his for a second before going back, “I don’t anymore, but yeah, I just wanted to get it off my chest.”

His mouth opens, as if he’s about to say something, but nothing comes out. His silence doesn’t scare you like you thought it would. “I didn’t mean to freak you out, and I don’t expect you to say anything.”

“I just… I didn’t know.” He sounds apologetic as he replies. Maybe it’s better that he didn’t know, it would be embarrassing if he or anyone else knew.

“We never talked about what happened between us.” It pains you to remember, but now you have to finish what you started, “but it meant something to me, I know for you it was probably nothing, because you started seeing Sami right after, and don’t get me wrong you two are perfect together I’m not trying to interfere, but yeah, it really hurt me that you just pretended that everything was normal after.” You finish with a sigh of relief. Everything you’ve been holding onto is now out in the open, and you’ve never felt so relieved, like you could finally breathe.

“I was an ass.” His statement is surprising. “I don’t have any excuse for what I did, I was truly an ass, and I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, you were.” You joke as you turn around, and he chuckles. You catch a glimpse of the living room through the window and see Mingyu sitting on the couch with Chan and Jeonghan. The three are paying attention to Vernon, who’s standing up telling a story, making dramatic movements with his arms.

“Are you okay?” Minghao asks and catches your attention again.

“I had a fight with Jihyun.” You don’t want to tell him, and you hope he doesn’t ask about it further. “I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“Okay.” It’s a little awkward, but there’s nothing you can do now. You told him what you had to, and he apologized. “I’m gonna go inside then, is everything okay between us?” He’s almost at the door when he asks.

“Definitely, and sorry I dumped all of that out of nowhere.”

“You don’t have to be sorry.” With that, he finally goes in and joins the guys on the couch.

After dinner’s over and everyone moved from the dining room and onto the couches, you’re left alone picking everything up and doing the dishes. After three days of cooking every meal, you collectively chose to order from a local restaurant instead, so luckily there's not much to clean.

Dinner was awkward as it has never been. Jihyun couldn’t look you in the eyes, even if she tried to act as if nothing happened. And not a word came out of your mouth, besides when you offered to do the dishes. No one else probably noticed the weird energy in the room, but to you it was suffocating.

As you’re putting the glasses on the sink, Mingyu re-enters the room. You try not to pay too much attention to him as he walks over to you, even if your skin tingles every time he’s around.

“Do you wanna go for a walk around town?” He has to crouch down to whisper in your ear.

“Right now? I promised to do the dishes.” The idea excites you for sure. The house has been weighing you down all day, and spending time alone with Mingyu is an activity you’re starting to love too much these days. But you also fear what everyone might say if you leave out of nowhere.

“We’ll get someone else to do it.” You’re not usually this easy to convince, but for him it’s suddenly too easy.

“Fine, but you do the talking.” He chuckles as he motions for you to follow him.

His back is hypnotizing as you walk behind him. His hair is damp from the quick shower he went to take right after he finished his plate. The woody smell of his cologne reaches you strongly, and you fear it may become your favorite smell ever.

You manage to get past everyone that’s lounging on the living room without getting noticed, but as Mingyu’s about to open the front door, Chan comes out of the bathroom and bumps into you, questioning look on his face. Before he can ask anything, Mingyu tells him that you two will go out and to please do the dishes. Chan's brows don’t stop frowning, but in the end, he lets you go out, agreeing with a groan.

It's the first time you’ve been out of the house for the last few days. The supply runs that were done you didn’t go, and the beach is kind of a part of the house, so it doesn’t count. The fresh night air hits you when you step on the street, and with Mingyu by your side, you no longer feel suffocated, you can finally breathe.

When Mingyu starts walking in one direction, you follow him. Since him, Chan and their family have been coming here every summer for their entire lives, he knows the town pretty well and you trust him to guide you.

You walk around the streets for a while, talking about trivial things, telling each other anecdotes and joking around, getting to know each other more than you were able the past few days. Because even if you spent quite some time together, it was always situational, but right now, alone with no one you know around, it’s much easier to let go.

The town feels cozy and warm, like the hometown from a Christmas movie. It’s very quiet and you don’t encounter many people, only the occasional old couple that goes out for a walk or few people walking their dogs.

“How come I’ve never met you before? I went to your house multiple times.” You ask when you decide to sit down at a park.

Such a strong presence like his is hard to ignore, but somehow, after all these years of being friends with his brother, you only heard about him, never met. Your friends would talk about him from time to time, and you were always itching to meet him, but it was like he was never there.

“I let Chan have his space when he has people over.” He shrugs as if it’s the most normal thing in the world, but it’s something that’s been plaguing your head ever since you were introduced.

“But you've met the others?”

“They're at our house a lot, a little more than I'd like if I'm being honest.” You both chuckle at his statement.

“Yeah, they can be a little annoying and loud but that’s why I like them, they can take your mind off other things.” A lot of times, when you were having a rough day or you were sad about something, having fun with them would make you forget about everything. Focusing on a stupid cooking competition Gyuri made up or playing a new card game Jeonghan discovered, those would become your favorite days.

“I know you said you don’t really like Minghao for some reason, but what about the rest? Don't you like them?” You’ve seen him talk with everyone by now, so you’re just curious.

“Is it bad that I don’t care about them enough? To have an opinion on them I mean. They're just my brother's friends.”

“Are you saying you don’t have an opinion about me?” Deep down, you really want to know what he thinks about you, and why he seems to want to spend time with you out of all the others.

“I'd like to think you’re not just my brother’s friend by now.” That could mean a lot of things, but it doesn’t stop your stomach from contracting and a smile from appearing on your face.

“That does not answer my question!” You push him lightly to the side, so he doesn’t see the tiniest blush creeping up your cheeks.

“I already told you I like you the most out of everyone at the house.” He keeps finding the words to make your mind collapse and saying them so nonchalantly.

“You only said that to make me feel better because I was crying.”

“I mean it.” The poor lighting at the park doesn’t prevent you from seeing the truthfulness in Mingyu’s eyes. “I wouldn’t have asked you out here with me if I didn’t.”

“That’s good.” You respond through a smile, and you see his smile form in his eyes before the rest of his face joins.

“Why?”

“You might be becoming my favorite too.” The confession shocks you as it leaves your mouth, and you regret it instantly. But when you see him getting shy, and even detect a little blush on his ears, it proves worth it. “Should we get back? It’s getting really late.”

The walk back is just as calm and comforting as before. But the difference is you’re much more aware of Mingyu by your side. How his hand slightly brushes yours every now and then, sparking electricity that runs through your veins and birthing just a tiny bit of hope that he’ll connect them for once. How your steps coordinate even if his legs are much longer than yours. You don’t care if your being quiet, not with him.

“I have seen you around at my house, I just never went over and said hi.” He confesses after a few minutes. “I really should’ve, we could’ve met sooner.” There’s a tone of regret in his voice, and his eyes shine at the possibility.

“You’d like that?” His words warm up your insides and you can’t resist the smile that breaks on your face as you look at him.

“Yeah.” His eyes shine as they meet yours, entranced. “I feel like an asshole. Chan always invited me to hang out with you guys when I was home, but I always refused, I don't know why.”

“I get it.” You both look at the empty road ahead, breaking the eye contact before you trip and fall. “I probably would’ve done the same.”

“But, eventually I met everyone, except for you.”

“Maybe we were meant to meet this way.” Your choice of words makes him look at you with curiosity. “Like maybe if we met before you wouldn’t have spared me a second thought and you wouldn’t have asked me to ride with you on the way here.”

“You believe in destiny and that stuff?” There’s no mocking tone on his voice, but you’re still careful with your answer.

“Something like that, more like the universe prepares us for our future, like we go through things for a reason.” You feel a little stupid talking about it out loud, but Mingyu won’t judge you. “I try to see the good in the bad, is it silly?”

“I do believe in destiny, so if it’s silly then I’m fucked too.” His joke takes a laugh out of you and your eyes connect again. “You look really pretty when you smile.”

“Oh, shut up!” You avoid his eyes by looking down, but your red stained cheeks reveal his effect on you. Why is he saying all of these things all of the sudden? The talk about wishing to meet sooner and destiny already had your stomach filled with butterflies, but his sudden flirting makes your insides want to explode.

“Missed it today.” You look up slowly at him. “You looked down at dinner earlier, did something happen?”

“I impulsively talked with Jihyun, and it didn’t end well.” You start fidgeting with your fingers, embarrassed by your behavior. “She tried to apologize but, in the moment, it didn’t feel genuine to me, so I kinda just stormed off.”

“At least you got to tell her what you felt.” Your head tilts like you can’t believe what he’s saying. “See the good in the bad, like you said.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” You huff, but the release of all those pent-up feelings did feel relieving. “And I also talked to Minghao after all.”

“Oh yeah I saw you guys talking earlier, how did that go?” It’s disappointing to see you’re already back at the front of the house. You don’t want the night to end, you wanna keep carelessly talking with Mingyu forever.

“Better I think.” You shrug as he lets you in. “I told him that I used to like him.” He follows right behind you as you walk towards your rooms. The lights are all turned off, the silence interrupted by your steps and your voices. No one’s up beside you two. “It was awkward but at least I got it off my chest.”

“Used to? You don’t like him anymore?” Mingyu asks with curiosity. A tiny glint of hope reveals in his eyes waiting for your response.

When you think about why you liked Minghao, you can’t really think of much. Memories of times he’d remember details about you or say casual flirty things come to mind, but is that enough to like someone? Times when he straight up ignored you to go after his friends, or when he couldn’t even say hi to you when you saw each other in college always made you doubt.

“I don’t know if I ever really liked him actually.” Saying it out loud feels almost freeing.

“How so?” It’s scary to open up to someone like you’re doing with Mingyu, but for some reason you find it easy to tell him things you’ve never said out loud.

“I think I just liked the idea of a guy I found attractive liking me, even if he never actually did.” You always thought he was attractive, and when he’d say little flirty things to you your stomach your burn up. But before that started you didn’t think about him in that way. “I don’t know if it was all in my head or not.”

“Any guy would be really stupid not to like you.” He stands with his back against the wall beside his door, looking down at you with the most honesty you’ve ever seen in his eyes.

“You keep saying things like that.” Confusing you, giving you hope. The wall hits you as you stand back, staring at him in the same position he is. Both beside your doors, you could end the night right now, stop this back and forth between you, but something keeps you out here, longing for him to do something.

“I mean what I say.” It feels like a challenge was laid down in front of you, but you want him to take the first step.

“I know.” He smirks at your words.

“Good.” His eyes stare so intensely, like he’s trying to read your mind, to know every thought passing through your mind. He’s usually very hypnotizing, but right now, under the moonlight, flirty haze and smirk adorning his face, you can’t look away.

Everything around you blurs as you stare at each other, waiting for the other to break the silence, to make a move, to do anything. Every second it passes the tension becomes more and more palpable, even the tiniest move might snap it. But the both of you stay static, only a faint noise of rain beginning to fall filling the silence.

Seconds feel like minutes, and every second that passes that Mingyu does nothing gets more disappointing. Maybe it was all in your head after all.

Defeated, you throw a little smile and a muffled ‘good night' at him as your hand turns your doorknob, and you finally break eye contact, entering your room slowly as his face drops.

When you close the door, you regret it instantly. You stand there, listening attentively for any noise. Is he still standing there? Maybe you should’ve done something, maybe he was also waiting for you.

There’s no noise coming from outside, and as more seconds pass, you lose hope. You don’t even breathe in case it blocks any possible noise from reaching your ears, but it’s pointless.

You take a step closer to the door and open it slightly, stupidly hoping he might be waiting for you, but the hallway’s completely empty.

Once again, you deluded yourself into thinking an attractive guy might like you, even if this time the “signs” seemed so much clearer, but it clearly didn’t mean anything. You don’t regret spending time with him though, he actually helped you a lot these past few days, it’s your fault you thought it meant something else.

DAY SIX

After tossing and turning all night, sleeping in short periods of time while your mind over thinks instead of resting, you finally check the time and see it’s a normal hour to wake up.

You won’t admit, you kinda hoped Mingyu had texted you during the night. Your stomach contracts as you remember how he gave you his number a few days ago:

Everyone was sitting on the couches hanging out. It was early in the afternoon, but no one had really any plans. Mingyu was sitting in between you and Gyuri. They were talking about some band they both like. You grabbed your phone to google something he said, sure he got a fact wrong. When you smugly showed it to him, he huffed defeated, and grabbed your phone to read it again. But then you noticed he started typing something really fast. You looked at Gyuri by his side with a questioning look on your face, but she just raised her eyebrows teasingly after looking at what he was doing. When he returned the phone to you, it was on the contact list, a new one stood with his name on it.

Doesn’t really matter now, as you probably won’t use it after the vacation is over.

A smell of some kind of breakfast welcomes you as you open your door, someone is cooking something really yummy, but before you move forward to check who it is, Mingyu’s open door draws your attention. Judging by the time and his empty bedroom, it’s most likely he will be the one standing in the kitchen right now, and you can’t stand to face him. Not after last night. Not after you embarrassed yourself.

The sound of your stomach growling reminds you to feed it, and you remember a cute cafe you saw the night before while walking.

You manage to head out without the mystery person hearing and walk to where you remember the shop was. The sun in the sky warms up the atmosphere, you almost can’t notice the heavy rain it poured all night. As you near the cafe, you see they sell Jihyun’s favorite cupcakes. Maybe if you get her a few she’ll be unable to ignore you.

Ignoring Mingyu might be an easy task for these next few days, but Jihyun is someone you can’t ignore until the issue doesn’t bother you anymore. One of the thoughts that kept you up all night was how to fix things with her, you were both wrong, so it’s only right to approach her and talk things through again. What you didn’t expect was seeing Jihyun enter the same shop while you’re paying.

You make eye contact, knowing you’re both here with the same purpose. As you walk towards her, she doesn’t walk away from you, and that confirms she also wants to talk things through.

The shop has a few tables placed outside, and after Jihyun sits on one you sit in front of her. It's awkward as you put the cupcakes you just bought in front of her.

“I’m-” your voices overlap as you speak the same words. You both laugh awkwardly, and she motions for you to talk first.

“I’m sorry for the way I acted yesterday, it was childish of me to just walk away and not letting you explain, and I shouldn’t have dumped all that to you out of nowhere, I’m sorry.” Afraid of her reaction, the words leave your mouth so fast you barely register what you say.

“I’m the one who should be sorry,” her response is surprising, as you expected to be the only one apologizing, “you were right about what you said, I was a bad friend for not telling you, and I shouldn’t have asked you in front of everyone if you were still in love with him, that was really stupid.” In love. It's weird to hear that about Minghao again, after so many days of getting over him, those words attached to him feel odd.

“And I’m sorry for not noticing that you and Chan liked each other, you really are perfect for one another by the way.”

“Thanks,” your comment breaks a laugh out of her, and you can finally breathe, “so are we ok? I really hate fighting, especially with you.” As the atmosphere relaxes between you two, Jihyun finally grabs one of the cupcakes you bought and starts eating it.

“Yes, I hate fighting too let’s not do that ever again please.” Making up was so easy, you feel ashamed for walking out on her, but now you’ll never do it again.

“Great cause I have something to ask you,” the relief you felt quickly turns into curiosity and you look at her expectantly, “well, it’s more so to confirm Chan's suspicions that a question but, do you have something going on with his brother?”

Red rushes to your face and your stomach drops in shock. Your shyness is a dead giveaway and Jihyun catches up in no time.

“Oh my god he was right?! You must tell me everything now!” Excitement shines through Jihyun’s voice, talking loudly and earning a few weird looks from people passing by.

“Nothing happened, I guess we’re together often and Chan noticed,” the disappointment on your voice is noticeable, “he’s really nice.”

“Channie told me yesterday that you two were acting weird and asked me if you had told me anything.” Jihyun notices something’s wrong, she stretches her hand to take yours, “did he do something?”

“It’s more about what he didn’t do”. The questioning look she gives you urges you to continue, “we went on a walk last night after dinner and Chan caught us before leaving, and I just,” remembering everything you talked about, how he wished he’d met you before, it’s a new kind of pain you’ve never felt before, “I thought he might like me or something, but it was stupid.”

“You know, for Chan to think there was something between you, I don’t think it’s nothing.” Jihyun always tries to be positive, and you do too, but this time you just can’t.

“Well, he had the chance, and he didn’t do anything, I was giving him bedroom eyes and everything!” Now you’re starting to get mad. At you. At him. At you for believing this was more than a passing friendship. At him for being so kind and hot and nice and handsome and a good listener and everything a girl could ask for.

“Maybe he got nervous!”

“He doesn’t seem like the type of guy to get nervous around girls.”

And you’re right. He isn’t. So why did you have such an effect on him that he couldn’t make a move?

From Mingyu’s point of view everything was different. He understood after a few days that he liked you a little more than he should, and it only intensified after you watched the sunrise together.

After your date that shouldn’t be called a date at all, but it felt like one to him, all he wanted was to kiss you, to prove that you’re worthy of someone being head over heels for you. He had been thinking about it the whole night, but in that moment, he froze.

You were looking at him so expectantly, with droopy eyes like you wanted to eat him. It was too much for him, and he’s beating himself for it since.

As soon as you closed your door, his feet automatically lead him to the windy beach, with only the tiny porch roof to shield him from the storm, but he didn’t care.

In the morning, he woke up before everyone as usual and started making breakfast for the two of you, hoping you won’t hate him, hoping he didn’t lose his chance. But then he saw you sprint out the front door like you were running away from him.

All day Mingyu’s been waiting to get you alone, but you were always so busy, talking with someone else or helping to clean up so the house is squeaky clean before everyone leaves tomorrow. If he doesn’t get to explain himself and make it right, he fears he probably won’t see you again for a long time.

As your last night at the house, everyone decided to have a goodbye party. And by ‘party’ you mean a hang out with no alcohol, because no one wanted to drive six hours while hang over and because you all spent the whole day cleaning and tidying everything up. Just hang out, playing games, maybe one beer or two, not enough to get anyone drunk.

Sitting on the couches as usual, you can feel Mingyu’s gaze piercing through you from across the room. You did avoid him all day, making yourself busy whenever you saw him around, but you didn’t think he noticed.

Your attempts to evade his overwhelming presence are pointless. You don’t look at him, focusing on whoever is talking or pretending to look for something on your phone, but every time you stretch to grab something off the table, he coincidentally goes for it too.

The distance between you might not be noticeable for the naked eye, just casually sitting across from each other, you’re not one to talk much so it’s usual for you to look at who’s talking and not interrupt them. Mingyu’s just the same, but his eyes seem to have got a life of their own and wander to you at your every movement.

It’s killing Mingyu inside to know that you’re avoiding him. He knows he fucked up, but fears that if he confronts you, you’ll just deny it. There's not much he can do in this group setting.

His opportunity arises when everyone decides to do a movie night. It’s weird to watch a movie on your last night, but he won’t oppose to it if it’s an unanimous decision. And when you’re tasked with the popcorn, he knows it’s time to talk to you without anyone hearing. He tags along, throwing some lame excuse to the others saying he’ll help you.

You object, you’ll do just fine on your own, but your legs betray you and don’t stop even when he insists. You’re both inside the kitchen in no time and there’s no running back.

“I’ll just heat the bags on the microwave, and you can take them to the coffee table.” You avoid looking at him too much, trying to focus as best as you can, but the popcorn bags are nowhere to be found. You look inside every cabinet, doing a very rigorous search, anything to keep the interaction as short as possible.

“Let me help you.” As the kind man Mingyu is, he attempts to join you in the search, but if he gets a mere inch closer to you, you might lose it.

“No, it’s fine I can find them.” It comes out harsher than you intend, but at least he backs away.

There’s a minute of silence, only your huffs of frustration can be heard.

“I’m sorry.”

You stop in your tracks, search already forgotten as you scavenge through your mind to find any usable words to respond.

“About what?” You huff incredulously.

“About last night.” Mingyu looks small as he waits for your reply.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about.” The big kitchen suddenly feels too small, the four walls imprisoning you. You ignore his figure as you walk over to the tiny storage room right beside the kitchen. Maybe there are forgotten popcorn bags there and you can finally end this conversation. But Mingyu's committed to his cause and follows you.

“But there is.” It’s almost annoying how adamant he is about whatever he wants to say. You don’t want him to pity you, it’s already embarrassing enough.

“It’s fine, really.” Mingyu followed you inside the tiny room, and when you turn around to face him, he’s dangerously close. Your breath hitches, but you force yourself to not have another reaction.

“It’s not,” barely a meter separates you from Mingyu, too close for your liking but at the same time too far. He realizes and moves forward half a step, so now if you concentrate enough, you can feel his breath as he speaks, “I know you’ve been avoiding me all day because of what happened... I shouldn’t have-”

“Look, maybe I've been avoiding you but it’s because I want to keep the last bit of pride I have left, I thought you wanted to kiss me and you didn’t, it’s okay, you don’t have to pity m-”

The words stop coming out of your mouth a millisecond before Mingyu grabs your face and smashes his lips against yours with force.

The kiss lasts merely seconds, but you melt under his touch instantly. Mingyu’s lips mold over yours perfectly, pillowy and soft, but with authority.

He backs away slowly, your eyes still closed, and your foreheads connected, he gives you a peck before finally separating.

“I wanted to kiss you, I mean, I want to, like all the time.” You watch him with glossy eyes, still dizzy from the kiss.

Your bodies are close like they’ve never been before, you have to move your head up to even see his face. The pumps of your heart are so strong he might even feel them. Your mouth hangs open in shock, your brain makes no sense of what’s happening, and words don’t seem to want to get out of you.

“I should've done that yesterday.” Mingyu can barely contain his smile as he confesses.

“Yeah, you should've!” You chuckle as you jokingly slap him on the chest, “Why didn’t you?”

“I don’t know,” his hands sneak around your waist, fingers creeping inside your t-shirt to touch your bare skin, “you make me nervous.”

“Right, but you don't seem so nervous now,” as his fingers trace circles on your sides, your arms wrap around his neck naturally. Your faces get ever so slightly closer by the second, your chin up and his head down, eyes connected in a trance that draws a smirk on his face.

“Do you forgive me?” He breaks the eye contact, gaze focused on your parted lips.

“Hmm, I don’t know… I’m not convinced yet.” It’s your turn to smirk, trying to get a reaction out of him.

Mingyu’s eyes change before something takes over in him. He wraps his arms around your waist and erases the little distance between your bodies, connecting your lips in a frenzy kiss, nothing like the sweet one before. Your arms hug his neck, bringing his face and body impossibly closer to yours.

You sigh when his hands start traveling across your back as he deepens the kiss, licking your lower lip and tangling your tongues together. His arms hug your waist up, forcing you on your tiptoes to reach his height while your hands on his neck push him down. Like a game of push and pull, both of you fighting for dominance, one pushes their body against the other and the other pushes you both closer, if even possible.

Inside you feel like exploding. You knew you wanted him, but your body wants more, you need more. From the first touch the only thing on your mind is him, his hands on you, your chests flushed together, his lips on yours with force, where they belong. Everywhere he touches feels like it’s on fire. When his hands sneak below your t-shirt and his fingers wander around the unexplored territory, you sigh on his mouth again and you feel his smirk against your lips.

The metal shelves dig onto your back, but you don’t care, all that’s on your mind is him, until some lonely can falls to the ground and makes an inexplicable loud noise that alerts not only the two of you.

“Is everything okay?” Chan’s question comes from far away, but it’s enough to make you jump and push Mingyu away from your face.

“Yeah! We just,” You’re too out of breath to speak more than a couple of words, “couldn’t find the freaking popcorn.”

“Doesn’t Mingyu remember where we keep it?” You turn to catch Mingyu as he smugly retrieves his hand from behind your head to reveal the bags you’ve been looking for.

“Need any help?” Chan’s voice gets dangerously closer.

“No need! Thank you!” You take your chance to snatch the popcorn out of Mingyu's hands and start walking away from him and towards the kitchen, “Mingyu’s so annoying!” You hear Chan's laugh as he leaves.

“But you like me as I am,” Mingyu whispers in your ear, already caught up beside you, smirk so prominent you can even hear it.

“Is it too late to retract?”

“Yep, you’ll have to deal with me forever now.”

“Forever huh?” The humming of the microwave accompanies the moment as you turn around to find Mingyu standing against the kitchen island, arms stretched as if he’s showing off his muscles. He definitely catches you ogling him, but that’s what’s fun.

The knowledge that you’re able to make him nervous is too powerful. Your hunger translates in the way you look at him, standing against the sink in the same way he is, you look at him exactly the same way as the night before, lust and want almost tangible.

You stand still, waiting for him again, but this time he doesn’t chicken out. Slowly, he steps closer to you and cages you in between his arms. The air becomes too thick, atmosphere heavy as you look up at him expectantly.

The microwave beeps behind you but none of you react, too in your own bubble to care about the outside world. His eyes switch between yours, with his eyebrows raised and lightly biting his lower lip, using no words but telling you everything.

His hands sneak around your waist, and you don’t fight the smile cracking on your lips. You move your head forward, craving his lips on yours again.

“Guys what’s taking so long?” You’ve never separated faster. You barely get to turn around and open the microwave before Chan appears inside the kitchen, notoriously troubled. A few steps by your left, Mingyu searches for bowls, his back facing the both of you as to not reveal his blushed face.

Chan’s eyes switch between watching his brother and watching you, waiting for an answer as you grab the piping hot bag and dump the freshly done popcorn into a bowl. The silence is telling, even to him.

“Sorry, we’ll be right there.” Chan grabs the bowl reluctantly, clearly aware that something happened, just not sure what. As he walks away, he even turns his head around to analyze the two of you for a second.

The movie democratically chosen is quite interesting at first, but after some boring scenes, the little power of concentration you have evaporates. Mingyu’s body is next to yours, legs touching and his arm resting on the back of the couch. What you want need is so close yet so far.

You sit back so he can wrap his arm around you without raising any suspicions, goosebumps run across your entire body when he finally does.

Not engaged in the movie at all, you opt for looking at the man by your side. Mingyu notices your gaze as soon as it lands on him, but he pretends he doesn’t. Everything about your current situation is making him lose his mind. The way you keep searching for his touch, even with all your friends surrounding you, inviting him to sit so close to you, not hiding as you stare at him, everything is making him nervous. The nervousness from the night before crawls back onto his body, because of you, his brother’s best friend, here, how you’re making him feel. He just doesn’t know how to act around you.

As he wraps his arms around you, you snuggle closer to him, only a blanket hiding your closeness from prying eyes. The movie’s long forgotten, with your head on Mingyu’s shoulder, you can only concentrate the rise and fall of his chest, his soft touches on the side of your arm. His warmth is hypnotizing, prompting your hand to place itself on the uncovered skin of his thigh, just above his knee. You don’t miss the way his breath hitches at your touch, goosebumps reveal around the cold of your hand. He expects for you to move it, but your hand stays there, squeezing softly, much too close to his knee, for a few minutes.

When a fight scene breaks on the movie, you take advantage of the noise and the initial shock, and move your palm slightly up Mingyu’s thigh, over his shorts but closer to where his groin starts to wake up.

Judging by Mingyu’s face, there’s nothing suspicious about you two. He stays looking up front, pretending to pay attention to the screen, while inside all he can think about is your hand and what you’re planning to do with it. The expectations excite him just as much as they scare him. All he wants is your body close to his, making you feel through his actions just how much he likes you, but he didn’t think you’d start something while surrounded by all your friends. It’s dark, only the movie lights up the room, and you’re on the far end on the couch where it would be hard for anyone to see you, but it’s still quite exposing. Someone could catch you, you don’t seem to care, and it excites him more than it should.

“I know what you’re doing,” you barely hear his whisper through all the noise.

“Is it working?” Your thumb slowly grazes his skin as he flexes his thigh muscles.

“I have probably minutes of self-control left, so we’ll see.” He backs his head away again and you turn to watch his reaction as your hand moves over his already semi hard cock. Only a few touches and he’s already halfway up. It fills you with pride to know how much of an effect you have on him. Big, strong, serious Mingyu, coming apart under your hand.

Your palm moves up and down his covered length slowly, feeling it getting harder under your touch. His reactions are so minimal that you only notice because you pay attention closely.

What you didn’t anticipate was his hand creeping up your thigh. Slowly, his fingers find their way inside the tiny shorts you put on, drawing circles on your inner thigh, nowhere near enough to your core but still sending waves of arousal through your whole body.

Half of the run time of the movie passes, but your touches stay over your clothes, teasing, barely grazing. You stop palming him the second his index fingers ghosts over your covered clit, your breath hitches and you’re too shocked to keep up your movements. As the seconds pass, Mingyu runs his fingers through your covered folds, feeling how wet you already are.

The movie’s suddenly silent, the main characters looking at each other in the eyes. It's probably a very important scene, but you only concentrate on not making any noise as Mingyu works you up under the blanket.

With your hand still motionless on Mingyu's cock, he stretches until his head reaches your ears when the scene changes and noise fills the room again.

“Let’s go to my room.” There’s no hesitation in his voice.

“You don’t wanna watch the ending?” You tease back. You don’t even know what happened in the movie this whole time.

“If I don’t have my fingers inside you in the next five minutes, I might go crazy.” His statement leaves your jaw hanging as he, contrary to what he just said, removes his hand from you.

“I’m sorry guys, gotta drive tomorrow,” Mingyu suddenly gets up and everyone's confused eyes are on him, “don’t wanna be up until too late.” And with those words, he’s out of the living room in no time.

Everyone's eyes, including Chan’s, go back to the screen, but you stay still. Should you follow after him right now? It’ll be too suspicious, but do you really care?

You wait until the scene changes, as to not seem too obvious, and fake a loud yawn.

“Sorry guys I think I'm calling it a night,” every move you make, you make sure to do it slowly, to show how tired you are, “I don’t wanna fall asleep on the couch.”

As you take a few steps, Jihyun calls for you, “But it’s about to end!”

“Oh! I’ve already seen it it’s fine,” you lie as you face the hallway again, your back turned to Jihyun so your face doesn’t expose you.

You can hear her voice saying something like liar! You wanted to watch it! But you don’t turn back, because you can see Mingyu waiting by his door. He's about to speak but you run and smash your lips with his before he can utter a word.

Your bodies are so tangled together you stumble backwards, but luckily Mingyu manages to catch you before you fall and turns you both inside his room. With his hand pillowing your head, he pins you against the now closed door and you both laugh lightly at your clumsiness. But as soon as your eyes land on each other again, it’s like you’re both hypnotized because your mouths attach again like magnets.

His hair feels soft between your fingers, long enough for you to tug at it lightly. He groans against your mouth and now it’s your turn to smirk. That ignites something in him, because he presses you against the wall at the next tug you give him.

He’s everywhere. His thighs intertwined with yours, his firm chest against yours, one hand on your waist and the other on your neck.

The feeling of his lips is addicting, and now that you’ve finally tasted him you never want to go back. His mouth glides over yours with familiarity, like it’s something he's been doing for years, like he knows exactly how to get you head over heels for him.

You chase his lips as he steps back just a little, and you instantly miss the warmth of his body. The only light source in his room is the moonlight beaming though the window, but it’s enough to admire Mingyu’s messy hair and blood red lips. Your hands stay around his neck and his on your waist, neither of you wanting to stop touching the other.

A strand of hair blocks your view for a second before he brushes it back and tucks it behind your ear.”

“Did you mean all that?” Not his words, but his actions. Kissing you. Did it mean the same for him as it did for you?

“I've been wanting to do that for days,” his hand caresses the side of your face gently and you lean into his touch.

His lips are on your again without warning and you melt at his touch, giving in to him. His lips guide yours slowly, taking his time savoring you. Every move of his has a purpose, every deliberate touch makes you more needy for him.

He's in total control, caging your body against the door, pressing himself against you so you feel his almost fully hard dick against your upper thigh.

His mouth travels down to your neck and makes you gasp, leaving damp kisses on your sensitive skin. Your hands play with the hem of his black t-shirt, and you feel his smirk against your neck. His hands travel all around your body, from your neck to your back to your waist and your ass. You feel him everywhere every second and the heat inside you intensifies per second.

The only thing on your mind is having him. Your hands start lifting his shirt up, he smirks against your lips before separating briefly to take it off and slip his shoes off. You do the same.

You barely get a glimpse of his shirtless body before he’s on you again. Lips on lips, skin on skin, your insides pulsate with need feeling every muscle of his against you. His biceps tense under your touch when he picks you up by your thighs effortlessly.

Legs wrapped around his waist, Mingyu walks with you on his arms towards his bed. He makes sure to drop you softly before getting on top of you. His mouth finds your neck again as he lets you feel his hard bulge against your core. You grind against him, eliciting a moan out of the both of you, but it’s not enough.

With your legs still wrapped around his waist, you press him further against you. Even with the layers of clothes between you, his length grinds deliciously against you, the friction causing the heat inside you to fire up and the idea of having him inside releases a wave of arousal.

“Mingyu!” You intend to draw his attention, but he grinds against you again and it comes out like a moan. He hums against your skin and your fingers on his hair and back encourage him further. His hands roam your body until they reach your poorly clothed chest, but the lousy fabric doesn’t stop him from groping with excitement.

“Mingyu take off your pants.” You manage to grab his head to make him look at you, and he follows immediately.

You take your pants and bra off easily and prop on your elbows to admire him while he struggles to take his off. His frustration makes you chuckle, but his defined muscles distract you quickly. You saw him in just swim shorts days ago, you knew what to expect, but it still shocks you how broad his shoulders are, how his pecs flex at the tiniest movement. The size of his biceps are probably three times the size of yours.

When he finally throws his pants away, he aims to get on top of you again, but you think ahead. You move to the side, so he drops on the bed, and you get on top of his big thighs. The little fabric between you allows you to feel just how hard he is under you, hitting all the right places, making you moan while wetness gushes out of you.

Your hands travel slowly through his chest, fingers tracing his muscles, torturing him with your slow pace and making him squirm at your touch. His little sighs and whines are music to your ears, reaching the deepest parts inside you and ruining your panties more and more.

Proud of the effect you have on him, you grind softly and feel his hard twitch under you. But your fun doesn’t last. Mingyu grabs you by the neck and lowers your body until your faces are millimeters apart, keeping your hands from moving. He attempts to kiss you, but you grind on him again, causing him to moan in your mouth.

“You’re making me crazy,” his lips graze yours when he speaks, and you have to fight every internal scream telling you to kiss him back.

“Good.” You smirk as you shimmy down until your core is no longer sitting on top of his, leaving kisses down his neck while your hand travels down to palm him.

He sighs when your hand sneaks under his underwear to feel his now fully hard cock. Your hand barely wraps around him as you slide it up and down his length slowly, smearing the precum coming out from the tip.

Every little reaction Mingyu gives you encourages you to continue. Every moan when you squeeze harder, every whine when you pay attention to the tip, every sigh when you leave tiny bite marks around his clavicle, where no one else would be able to see them, but hopefully you.

Your wrist works hard as you notice Mingyu’s breath getting heavier and faster, and the fire inside you becomes impossible to ignore.

“Do you have a condom?” You ask as you slowly stop your movements. The ache between your legs keeps you from concentrating on anything else. If he wanted to, he could slide right in with how wet you are.

“Maybe,” the raise of his eyebrows tells you he’s up to no good and you look at him questioningly, “there’s something I gotta do first.” He slots between your legs with a smirk, hands on both sides of your waist and mouth getting closer to your ear.

“Gonna make you cum so hard you won’t even know your name.” His lips leave a trail of kisses below your ear to your mouth, and you sigh as he connects your lips once again. His hands go down and spread your thighs, taking his time grazing and groping everywhere between your inner thighs except for where you want him the most. You can only sigh and push him more against you, still in shock from his previous words.

One hand ghosts over your somehow still clothed core and you try to grind against it, but he moves it away with a chuckle.

“I need you,” you gasp when his hand presses against your pussy, fingers running up and down your lower lips and teases your hole through your panties, “please Gyu,” the nickname slips out of you with a moan.

“Whatever you want baby,” the not so accidental pet name goes straight to your core, too wet by now.

Mingyu starts a trail of kisses down your jaw to your boobs, paying especial attention to them while helping you out of your panties. You try to press against him, now fully naked, but he pins your hips down with force.

His head goes down leaving wet kisses on your skin and making you needier and needier until he reaches your pulsing core.

“You’re so wet already,” he kisses all around, teasing you endlessly as his hands pins you down so you don’t grind up to him, and his breath fans over your wet hole making you shiver, “so needy for me.”

“I swear if you don’t st-Fuuccck,” his tongue flattens on your core mid-sentence, slowly licking up and down, drowning any thought you might possibly have. He dives into you with no intend of stopping any time soon.

The dreamlike scenario of his head between your legs is in no way comparable to reality. He switches between swirling his tongue around your clit and teasing your entrance, drinking up all the juices you give him.

It's embarrassing how fast you’re getting to your orgasm with just a few minutes of him working you up. You tremble as he tortures your clit with his tongue once again, sucking on it lightly almost making you scream. You don’t care how loud you are, and he loves how you sound, how you moan uncontrollably because of him.

His hair is all disheveled because of your hands, tugging and pressing him closer to your core. He moans as he tastes you, sending vibrations through your whole body.

When you close your legs unconsciously around his head, he spreads you again with force, keeping you from shivering and adding newfound energy to tip you over the edge.

“Feels s-sso good Gyu oh my god,” his tongue teases your hole as his nose perfectly grazes your clit. Your mind is so numb you keep mumbling praises you can’t understand, the only thing you know is your orgasm is so close to snapping, you can almost see it, hear it, taste it.

You tremble in his hold, and he knows you’re close. Your hands on his hair keep him in place as you grind on his face, intensifying everything. He moans as you use him, and the vibrations finally make you snap.

Your legs tremble as his tongue licks you clean of the mix of saliva and your juices. It's when it becomes too much for you that you push his head back, and the sight leaves you more breathless than you already were. His chin is covered in your arousal and his lips are swollen from the work they’ve done.

His head stays on the lower side of your body, kissing your inner thighs as you recover. You can only watch him, his hands touching and massaging every part of your legs he can reach, his lips so close to your core, but teasing around where you’re starting to need him again.

“You look really pretty like this.” His words send shivers down your spine.

“So I usually don’t?” He halts his movements as you tease to look you in the eye but continues after he takes notice of the teasing tone.

“You are always pretty,” you throw your head back against the pillow at his words, “every second of every day,” the kisses on your inner thigh come closer and closer to your core, already gushing with need.

His lips ghost over your folds as he backs away just the tiniest bit to reveal his index finger moving towards his mouth. His eyes connect with yours as he licks his fingers, and the sight almost blocks your airways. You don’t want to stop watching but when his wet finger starts circling around your clit slowly, your eyes shut instinctively.

You feel him collecting your juices when he suddenly dips his finger into your hole. You moan at the intrusion but he’s quick to remove it and he’s back at circling around your wet clit.

He does the motion a few times, finger in then quickly out, circles around your covered clit with the freshly collected juices, and repeat.

“please" only a broken whisper leaves your mouth as your hand stops his movements. Your eyes connect with Mingyu’s after what feels like hours of teasing, and you can see a little smirk forming before following your needs.

His two fingers enter you slowly, letting you feel everything until he’s knuckle deep inside you. You’re so wet and needy from the foreplay that they just slide in.

He stretches your velvety walls perfectly, with a pace hard and deep that has you moaning uncontrollably.

When he finds that perfect spot that has you seeing stars, your hand jolts down to keep his in place and his fingers start abusing your gspot mercilessly. You almost scream when he adds a third finger inside you, squelching sounds filling the rooms with your moans as you get closer and closer to another orgasm.

Your walls begin to spasm around his fingers, letting him know that you're close once again. With your hand freeing his, he thrusts sharper into you, even if your walls close hard around them pushing them out.

All 5 senses explode within you when you feel his tongue toying with your clit again and your second orgasm hits powerfully. His hands help keep you in place as he maintains his movements, prolonging the orgasm as he pleases.

He licks his fingers clean as he climbs on top of you again. Your haze connects with his and you can’t look away as he removes his digits from his mouth and directs them to yours. Almost robotically, you open your mouth to welcome them and lick them clean without breaking eye contact. The mix of your juices and his saliva spike something within you. Your gaze turns to fire as you grab Mingyu by the neck and pull him towards you. Your lips connect with his fingers in between, both of you licking then clean as the same time. Your tongue plays with his fingers, finding his tongue doing the same and intertwining.

Entranced by you, Mingyu backs away once more and can only watch as you lick his fingers like it was his cock. Your eyes still meet his as you swirl your tongue around and eventually stop with a pop.

The speed of light doesn’t compare to how fast Mingyu crashes his lips with yours again. He grabs you by the waist and flips you both so now his back is against the headboard and you're sitting on top of him. His lips guide yours lazily as his hands travel around your naked back, and when you moan when he grinds up to you, he has to stop before he cums straight away.

You’re still recovering from the earth-shattering orgasm he gave you to speak, and he just looks at you with a little smile growing on his face. He pecks you sweetly, but when you don’t respond he worries.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m more than okay,” you chuckle as you feel your face turning pink, “you were kind of a beast down there, I need a second.”

“I could do that every day if you let me,” he sounds way too enthusiastic as he begins a trail of wet kisses on your neck. A moan escapes you when his hands find your breasts and your wetness uncomfortably starts to stain his boxers below you.

“Take these off.” You grab the waistline of his boxers to draw Mingyu's attention away from your neck and it works. He slips them off at the speed of light and you're back on top of him.

Your wet folds finally come in contact with his cock and you both moan at the feeling. With his hands on your waist, he aims to kiss you, but you surprise him by grinding on him and he moans on your mouth, your lips barely touching. His veiny cock grazes against your clit deliciously, clouding any coherent thought you may have. Mingyu’s just as gone as you are, with his hands playing with your boobs and your juices wetting his entire cock, he might just be in heaven.

“I’ll cum If you keep going like that,” Mingyu has half the mind to speak up. It’s a warning, but you take it as a challenge.

“What if that’s what I want?” You wrap your arms around his neck as best as you can as you slowly keep grinding on him, trying to hide the fact that it has as much of an effect on you as it does on him, maybe even more.

“Hmm I don’t think that’s what you want.” His left-hand sneaks between your bodies as the other plays with your nipple and you halt your movements. His fingers quickly find your clit and press on it with a little force, making you gasp.

“You can have anything you want, if you just ask.” His hands pleasuring you everywhere simultaneously blur your mind. You can’t find it in you to form a coherent sentence, so you resume your grinding. It's so slow you can feel every drag against you, every vein against your wet folds, his tip perfectly against your clit. You want nothing more than to feel him inside you, stretching you until your walls are shaped like him.

“Need you inside,” your words come out more of a gasp than anything, “please.”

Mingyu’s hands stray away from your body, quickly reaching the small packet that was waiting on his nightstand and rips it open as you move away from his cock to give him some space. He rolls the condom on swiftly and you stop yourself from jumping on him.

His hands on your waist and yours on his shoulders to stabilize you, you slowly sink on his length. Yours and Mingyu’s moans synchronize as his cock stretches your walls, filling you up until you feel him on your throat.

When you completely sink down on him, he reaches so deep you almost have trouble breathing, reaching places you’re just now discovering. You stay still as your gummy walls hug his length tightly, trying to get used to the new stretch. Sensing your hesitation to move, Mingyu kisses you softly, both of you melting into the other’s touch. Your arms wrap themselves around his neck for the millionth time, like they’re meant to be there until the end of time, and the slight movement causes Mingyu to shift inside you.

His lips muffle your moans as one of his hands sneak back down to stimulate your clit once again. His fingers draw circles on you, you can feel your arousal dripping onto him, and little by little, the stretch stops stinging, the feeling replaced by want and need.

Using his body to support you, you lift your hips slowly. His low groans fill your ears as every vein drags inside of you deliciously.

Without warning, you sit back with force, getting a moan out of the both of you. His lust filled eyes watch you in awe as his hands grab your ass while you’re repeating the motion. The addictive hitting of his cock inside you almost makes you not notice how tired you’re getting.

Mingyu stops you once you sink down again, embracing you with his arms and pulling you towards him. Your chests are flushed together again as he kisses you deeply, his tongue quickly encountering yours, and he flips you over.

Your back hits the mattress and he's between your legs again. He begins a slow pace, thrusting into you until his pelvis barely touches your swollen clit and then almost all the way out. The pace continues to be torturous until he finds the spot he’s been looking for and you almost scream, egging him on to hit it again and again and again.

With force, every thrust of his hips has you seeing stars. You can’t control your noises any longer, even mumbling a few phrases you can’t quite decipher, but that Mingyu seems to like.

The bed squeaks and hits the wall repeatedly but neither of you care. With your legs wrapped around his waist and your nails digging on his back, you can only think about the tight knot on your lower stomach about to burst.

His face is so close to yours, but neither of you have the mind to do anything other than moan in each other's mouths. Any sound you make, he replicates, blessing your ears and sending waves of pleasure to your already so close body.

Your walls are tightening so hard that Mingyu has trouble keeping up his fast pace, but after telling him how close you are, he starts pounding on you so hard you have to hug him so stay in place. Caged between your arms and legs, Mingyu’s body is glued to yours, his hot skin burning him on you as he drills your insides and blurs your brain.

“y-you’re so t-tight, pleasse tell me you’re cl-close,” his words barely register on your mind and your brain can’t work out a response, so he makes sure you hear him by putting his mouth next to your ear, but never stopping pounding into you, “are you fucked dumb already?”

His words shoot straight to your core, pulsing tight around him. Mingyu tries to muffle a moan by chuckling, but you already know the effect you have on him.

“s-so close Gyu, wish you-” you clench around him around him as you say, “wish you could come inside.”

Mingyu’s hips stutter at your words, and he has to slow down his pace to not cum right that second, but doesn’t miss the chance to play your little game, “you’d like that wouldn’t you? Me filling you up until you’re so full you start dripping?” His lips leave a trail of goosebumps below your ear, giving you a few kissed around your neck before going back up to look you in the eyes as he continues his tortuously slow thrusts.

“Yes yes I want it so bad,” you have no idea if what you’re saying makes any sense, but the smirk Mingyu shows is worth it.

“You wouldn’t waste a single drop right?” his thrust become hard and pointed after you nod eagerly, hitting your gspot with force after every word that leaves his mouth, “I'd stuff it back into you, and you’d be a good girl and keep it in.”

The pet name combined with the sharp thrusts send you over the edge embarrassingly fast. Without warning, you’re cumming on Mingyu’s cock, moaning all kinds of nonsense, squeezing him so tight it’s hard for him to delay his own orgasm. His thrusts don’t stop, stretching you orgasm and chasing his, and in no time, you feel his dick twitch inside you as his hips stutter with a moan.

He stills inside you, body draped over yours as you both recover. You're so tired your eyes start closing on their own, but Mingyu sliding out of you wakes you up instantly, triggering a quiet moan out of your throat.

You don’t want him to leave, and he catches your worried eyes as he gets up, “I’m going to grab a towel to clean up, I'll be right back,” he reassures you with a soft hand on your thigh.

After he hands you a clean towel, he gets back to the bathroom to clean himself up.

Alone in his bedroom and all cleaned up, you scan around after grabbing his big t-shirt to wear. It's obvious this is the room he uses in their frequent family visits, judging by the framed photos and the few posters on the walls. Even with only the bedside table lamp on, except the clothes recently scattered around the floor, you can see you clean and tidy the room is, his clothes are packed neatly, only a few items still on his desk.

“That looks nice on you,” Mingyu’s voice startles you, and you find him watching you from the bathroom door.

“Thanks, it’s some guys’, you probably don’t know him.” He chuckles, walking towards the bed as you tuck yourself in.

“And who is this mystery guy?” Mingyu asks as he get in bed behind you, embracing you in his arms with your back against his chest.

“It’s this guy who’s totally head over heels for me,” you turn around in his arms to find him smiling, “and I really like him too.” His eye wrinkles appear as his smile widens, but you don’t notice as you’re too shy to look at him again after your confession.

“He’s really lucky then.” Mingyu, aware of your shyness, grabs your chin and makes you look at him, “do you really?” The question freezes you in place as lock his serious gaze. He’s dying of nervousness inside, worrying about you, and him, and the two of you.

“Yes,” your voice comes out small and careful, but it relaxes him, “I really do like you Mingyu.”

No words can describe the burst of emotions Mingyu feels as those words leave your mouth. He can only hug you tighter and aim to kiss you, but you turn your head away laughing.

“Hey hey hey! What about you! I’m not letting you anywhere near me until you give me an honest reply!” You find yourself play fighting with this giant man for like three seconds before he pins you down.

“Funny thing to say while you’re in my bed, wearing my shirt,” your hands are trapped by his on both sides on your head, he’s all you can see, and you have no choice but to look him in the eyes. “I know I should’ve said it before, but I really like you too, I’m most comfortable when I’m with you, I’ve never felt like this before and I don’t want this to be a quick fling between us.”

His confession has your stomach doing flips and turns, your blood rushing to your cheeks and ears, and your smile to wide it almost hurts. “That's what I wanted to hear.”

DAY SEVEN

Mingyu’s arms now rank first as your favorite place to sleep ever.

After making each other repeat their confessions multiple times – mostly you, but he found he loves the way you blush every time you say you like him – and kissing lazily while wrapped around one another, time flashed by and sleepiness got to the both of you.

The culprit of waking you up from your dream forcefully is Mingyu’s damn alarm, ringing and ringing somewhere in his room. You turn a couple of times, trying to locate his phone without getting up, but it’s pointless.

“Mingyuuuu your phone,” your voice echoes alongside the annoying alarm as you try to wake him up.

“Hmm sorry,” his raspy voice barely reaches you as he gets up and grabs his phone from the pocket of his pants laying on the floor.

He quickly gets back under the covers, wrapping his arms around you and snuggling against you, both of you too awake by now to get back to sleep.

Your eyes are closed, but you can feel his chest rising and falling behind you and his hand caresses your waist through his t-shirt. You lay your hand over his as he kisses your neck softly.

“Good morning beautiful.” You’re too trapped in his embrace to turn around and face him, but you get to hide the blush that creeps up your cheeks at his words.

“Good morning.” Being wrapped around Mingyu’s warmth is addicting, his touch, his smell, his skin. How did you live all these years without them? “Should we get up? Everyone is probably awake by now.” You really don’t want to, but sadly you can’t stay here forever.

“We will, we will,” his hands wander lower and lower on your body, contradicting his words, until they reach the hem of your his shirt and sneak inside to caress your bare skin as he keeps kissing your neck, “are you not wearing-”

The sentence is left unfinished, his state of shock loosens his hug and you’re able to turn in his embrace, cocky smile on your face as he tries to figure you out.

“Oh, I must’ve forgot!” Mingyu joins you in a chuckle, hugging you tightly again and bringing your face towards him. Lazily kissing him, with your limbs intertwined and a little morning sleepiness, everything makes you so dizzy, already needy for him.

His tongue breaches into your mouth, messily dancing with yours as his hand pushes your shirt up and sneak to your core.

You don’t stay still. With your hands you touch and grope every spot of his torso you can reach, earning a few sighs from him, and you slowly start grinding on his hand, coating his curious fingers with your arousal.

Mingyu moans in your mouth when your hand catches his growing bulge, trying to be as quiet as possible in case anyone awake wanders your way.

“You’re gonna be de death of me.” His raspy whisper shoots straight to your core, but you can’t give him a proper reply, his lips go back to yours to shut you up as his fingers run through your wet folds.

Both of your hands work wonders on the other, your hand sneaks under his boxers to stroke him properly while he toys with your clit. It’s getting more and more difficult to quiet down the sounds coming from your mouths, your mind barely able to remember that task as the fire inside you stomach arises.

A knock on the door freezes you both in place. You stop breathing, locking eyes with Mingyu, waiting for the unannounced person to speak up. He looks as scared as you probably are as you both wait.

Another knock makes you get away from one another, and the ruffling sounds draw the attention of the one outside the door.

“Are you awake bro?” Chan asks through the door, luckily not opening it. Your eyes emanate panic as you evaluate every possible outcome for this interaction, but Mingyu motions for you to calm down.

“Hmm yeah, what do you want?” He pretends to just wake up, feigning a loud yawn.

“You know where y/n is? She’s not in her room and Jihyun’s looking for her.” Now Mingyu panics too, trying to come up with any excuse, no matter how lame.

“I don’t know bro, maybe she’s in the bathroom.” Definitely the lamest excuse ever, but it seems to work.

“Right, right, I’ll tell her that, but get up bro! We’re leaving in like an hour!”

“Okay! I’ll be right out.”

You both stay still, listening as his steps get farther and farther until there’s silence again.

“We really should tell him about us, he won’t be mad.” He sounds serious as he picks up your clothes from the floor.

“Take me out on a date first!” You snatch your clothes from his hands as you both chuckle. How would a date with Mingyu go? Outside of this bubble you created, everything could be different, but the change excites you.

The drive back to the city is full of laughter and songs, just like the first day. This time Chan managed to get on the passenger’s seat first, leaving you sitting next to Jihyun’s curious eyes and separating you from Mingyu.

You feel much better than on the first day. Relaxed, with less weight in your shoulders, and a really hot man making eyes at you through the rear view mirror.

Mingyu leaves Chan and Jihyun at his house first, saying it’s more practical to drop them off first and then you. None of them argue about it, and Jihyun throws a wink your way as you get on the passenger’s seat.

“You know, yesterday Jihyun asked me about us, she says everyone’s suspicious.” You mention when he parks in front of your building.

“That’s funny, cause Chan asked me today too, he intercepted me as soon as I got to the kitchen.” He replies and gets out of the car, leaving you hanging for a few seconds before opening your door.

“Really?” Mingyu’s grabbing your bags while you’re dying of curiosity behind him. “And what did you say?”

He chuckles as you walk towards your building, car locked and your bags still in his hands. He only answers once you get to the elevator.

“I told him… that I really like you.” A smile cracks wide on your face. You’ll never get tired of him saying that.

“And did he seem okay with it?” You quickly reach your floor and head to your door, anxiety creeping up on you at the thought of Mingyu being inside your apartment.

“Yeah! He even seemed kind of happy,” you stand by your door just watching him expectantly and he seems confused by your stillness, “are we coming in?”

“Oh yeah just, it’s a little messy I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting to have guests you know.” You turn your door handle slowly, waiting for him to nod before fully opening it.

You walk in slowly, watching his every move and reaction as he steps behind you. He gives it a quick look around before crouching to leave your bags on the floor and walking towards you.

“I like your place, it’s so… you.” His arms wrap softly around your waist, and yours instinctively around his neck.

“How do you know? We’ve know each other for like seven days.” You’re not strangers, you told him stuff you’d never tell anyone else, but you've also known him for a very short amount of time.

“I just know.” The sweet smile he give you melts you in place, if it weren’t for his arms surrounding you, you’d probably fall onto the floor. “And I really want to make that time longer, I meant it when I said forever.”

And he proved to you, time and time again during those seven days, that his words are always true. You have no reason not to trust him, and you always will.

i really hope you liked this >.< share your thoughts!

taglist: @gaslysainz @soffiyuhh @oneandonlyluvv @gyuwoosbabie sorry for the wait

#mingyu au #mingyu smut #seventeen au #seventeen smut #svt smut #kim mingyu smut #kim mingyu au #seventeen fluff #mingyu fluff #kim mingyu fluff #mingyu imagine

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saekkas · 2 years ago

Text

𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐀 𝐁𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒

summary: in which someone flirts with them, but they're only looking at you.

includes: isagi, nagi, reo, yukimiya, rin, sae, kunigami, kaiser, karasu, bachira, aiku.

notes: this one's shorter than the one before but still, go wild my loves <3

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐆𝐔𝐘 who values you very much. is the type to be very secure in the relationship; doesn't like any unnecessary drama and is definitely ready to move onto the next stage. wouldn't really care about the other person but will not tolerate having his boundaries crossed. especially when it's clear that he's yours and yours only.

isagi, yukimiya, bachira, nagi.

his eyes are on his phone, feet tapping against the tiles of the cafe. it's a hole in the wall that he's used to frequenting with you, so much that the staff know your orders by heart. the line is short, seats mostly empty, as the rush hour has passed. the rain is pouring against the window beside him, and he taps his finger on the table to their rhythm.

tilting his head, his eyes find you in the middle of the line. you're focused on the menu, your bottom lip between your teeth as you scan the list of food and beverages. it makes him smile, chuckling under his breath because he knows you'll end up getting what you usually do. he gets onto his feet, wallet in hand, when you're finally set to order.

"hi. good morning, how are you?" your sweet voice tickles his ear as he approaches, his heart warm and sated as you go through your usual routine.

"hey." he presses a kiss to your head, wrapping a hand around your waist. his lips trail down, stopping at your cheek, a smile pressed against the skin as he hears you giggle. "what's taking so long?"

the cashier smiles, amused at the sight. "mornin' i'm great. how about you two lovebirds?"

"we're good," he answers for you both, an easy-going expression on his face. he looks down, scrunching his nose at you while you giggle at his answer. "just waiting for this angel to finish ordering."

"we'll have matcha latte, caramel macchiato, and a blueberry cheesecake please. the usual." he tilts his head, looking for your confirmation. he smiles proudly, chest puffing when you nod your head.

"i'll pay," you say as you show your card to the cashier, smiling at her. he chuckles, letting you take the bill this time. "how much will it be?"

the drinks are out in a second, the green and brown a contrast against each other. there are two pairs of utensils on the plate, and he thanks the staff for their work, taking the tray into his hand. "i'll take these to our table first, okay?" he looks over his shoulder, a gentle look in his eye as he processes just how... domestic this all feels.

"yeah, i'll be there in a minute. i need to go to the bathroom." you smile at the cashier one last time, tucking your purse into your bag. you glare playfully, poking your tongue at him. "don't you dare finish the cheesecake before i'm back."

he pokes his tongue back, a laugh breaking loose from his chest. "no promises."

he sits back down, placing the food on the table as he goes back to drumming his fingers. the rain doesn't look as if it'll be stopping any time soon, wind combining with water to shower the earth clean. he looks at his watch, mentally thinking about making dinner later with you. a smile grows at the thought.

there's a shadow in the corner of his eye that he assumes is you. he smiles, ready to lean over and press a kiss, only to stop when his eyes meet a stranger instead. "sorry." he backs away, a furrow in his eyebrow as he looks around, searching for you. "you've got the wrong table."

"no. it's okay. i've definitely got the right table." the stranger lays it thick with a high-pitched tone, and fluttering eyelashes. "hi, handsome. here's my number."

he watches as she slips a piece of paper onto the table, confusion blending into annoyance when she leans over to take his hand. "look," he says with a frown, pushing his hands into his pockets. he's very obviously looking in the direction you went off in. "you've got the wrong table and i'm already with someone."

"ah but i don't see this someone?" the smile on her face is pushing at his limits. his jaw ticks when she moves to sit beside him. "c'mon, handsome. give me a chance."

the bathroom door by the end opens with a creak, and his head snaps at the sound. before she has time to reach over once again, he's quick to swerve away to your side. you're already eyeing the girl at your table with curiosity, your head tilted in question. "hey, who's that? one of your frien-"

he doesn't let you finish. he's quick to reach for your waist, tugging you into a kiss with a hand cupping your cheek. all negative feelings drain from his limbs, turning him into a puddle of love as you thread your fingers into his hair.

"as much as i love your kisses," you say with a gasp of breath as you look up into his eyes, finding love looking back at you through the orbs. "that was a bit sudden. did something happen?"

"not at all." he shakes his head, nuzzling into your nose. his hands are on the side of your neck, lovingly stroking the skin. "not now that you're here."

you look back at your table, seeing it empty, and the girl from before nowhere in sight.

"shall we enjoy our drinks?" he pushes you with the hand he has on your waist. he sits down first before pulling you to sit right beside him, your hands intertwined under the table. "can't wait to eat dinner with you later."

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐍𝐒 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐓𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓. he won't say no to playful flirting since it feeds his ego but will only respond if you're somewhere near or in his field of vision. he won't give the other person any of his attention if you aren't. will think it's funny that they're trying their best but will either shoot them down in a way that crushes their pride or brush them off as if they don't exist.

reo, aiku, karasu, kaiser.

the bass is thrumming against his skull, a tune that doesn't fit the mall's calm and serene energy. he's sitting on one of those plush sofas in a clothing store outlet, tapping his fingers against his thigh as he waits for you to finish changing. he feels the warning glare the manager's sending, and he snorts as if trying to go into the dressing room with you is a crime. he would be so much more satisfied with you between four cramped walls than in the wide space where people are obviously gawking at him.

"excuse me." someone calls his name timidly, and he cocks his head towards them, wanting to see where this goes. they send him a smile, one that's too teethy and falsely sweet but hey he can't fault them for not flashing his favorite smile; they aren't you after all.

"yes?" his reply is short and blunt, but he sighs when the girl flinches away. you've always said that his resting face looked too mean. he chuckles at the thought.

shaking himself out of his daydream, he shows his best smile. he leans back, arm stretched out against the back of the couch as he adjusts his pose, manspreading. a peacock, you'd once muse when he first did it in front of you. he watches with thinly veiled boredom in his eyes, a juxtaposition to the sickeningly sweet smile on his lips. "can i help you with something?"

the girl flushes, biting her lip and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. being coy, he realizes with an amused scoff.

"sorry to bother you. it's just- you looked so bored. i thought i could entertain you."

his eyebrow quirks at the word entertain, tilting his head in mock curiosity. "and how would you do that, hm?" he takes her in, taking in her choice of clothing and hairstyle. cute he'd give that much to her. nothing like you, though. she couldn't compare.

he realizes belatedly that the once over was seen differently than what he meant for it to come across. amusement flickers in his eyes when she flushes a bright red, fidgeting on her spot. "you do this often?" he tilts his head, eyes half-lidded, trying to gauge her reaction. "flirting with random strangers in the mall of a hobby, eh?"

"just the handsome ones," she says with a giggle. he watches as she points a finger to the row of clothes, her interest clear as day. "how about we look around? buy some clothes or jewelry so we match."

he chuckles, shaking his head at the thought. he can't wait to tell you about this. right on cue, the door to your dressing room opens, and you step out. his breath gets stuck in his throat, his eyes widening, and a grin making its way to his lips.

the black dress you have on is nothing short of stunning. it tapers off to your knees, the material hugging your curves. he sends you an eager look, one which you giggle at. you turn, showing him the back of the dress, keeping eye contact as you do. his mouth falls and thoughts short circuit as his eyes rake down your bare back, stopping just before your bum.

oh the things he'll do to you in that dress. no wonder the manager was so adamant on not letting him join in on the fun.

"nah," he says distractedly at the girl still waiting for his response. he sends you a wink and a flirty smile, mouthing one moment, before turning back to her. "see that gorgeous specimen right there? yeah i'm hers."

"she and i, we match." his eyes are filled with mischief as he tugs his shirt down, showing off the collection of marks you left on him last night. the skin around his collarbone is red, purple, and bruised. littered with love bites. a symbol of your love he thinks smugly. "see?"

there's pride blooming in his chest, a smug smile forming on his face the moment her eyes widen and the color drains from her face. "i'm not interested in anyone who's not her. so scram." he's quick to wave her away, skipping over to tug you back into the fitting room, this time with him in it.

𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐀𝐒 𝐈𝐂𝐄, the type to literally not care at all. will not give them time of day and will appear hostile if necessary. but he'll mostly just look at them, expressionless with dead eyes.

sae, rin, kunigami

there are so many options to choose from, he frowns, glaring at the row of refrigerators stacked next to each other as if they've done something wrong. the supermarket is relatively busy, customers ranging from middle schoolers to elderly. he's in the drink section, passing one fridge to another, looking for your favorite drink from outside the glass, his frowning reflection looking back at him.

you're somewhere in the dairy section, picking out pints of ice cream, and who knows what else. he checks his phone, checking for any new messages from you. i'll head over soon, after i find the popcorn, it reads along with multiple hearts and photos of you smiling beside the ice cream. he shakes his head, tapping a finger against the screen to save the photos.

he pockets his phone, ready to move on to the next isle when he bumps into someone. he huffs, his eyes looking at the girl that's staring right back at him.

"really?" she says with a flirty giggle after she gets a clear look at his face. he remains stoic, hands in his pocket, even as she nudges him on the shoulder as if a longtime friend. "you're handsome but if you don't say sorry when you bump into someone, they'll lose interest. but maybe that's your charm."

he moves to slight past her, not at all caring about her presence, but before he knows it, she's stuck a hand into his back pocket, sending a kiss playfully before bounding over somewhere he doesn't give a damn about. the frown on his lips deepens, but before he has the chance to look into his pocket, you pop up right beside him.

"hey, i can't find the drinks but i've got everything else." he hears you say as you show him your basket full of things, smiling up at him. there are all kinds of things in the basket, ranging from chocolate, popcorn, ice cream, sausages, and many more. tonight is monthly movie night and he tries to shake off the weird encounter from his mind, not wanting to dampen the mood.

he smiles back, leaning down to take the basket from you. the hoodie you have on is his, and it dwarves you. the hem reaches your knees, and he can't see your hands which makes him chuckle all the while more. you told him that you were cold, he knows it's just another excuse to wear his hoodie.

"let's go home." he ruffles a hand through your hair, affection getting the best of him, before taking your hand with his other.

he drops the basket on the self-checkout counter, and helps you scan all the necessary items. he eyes the chupa-chups by the counter and grabs two, strawberry and cola, scanning both and handing them for you to choose. he chuckles when you brighten, choosing the strawberry for yourself.

"i'll take the bags." he takes both bags into his left hand, the other placing itself on your back. he leads you out, shaking his head in amusement when he feels you slip your hand into his back pocket.

"hey what's this?" the tone of your voice has him frowning. "i didn't know you smoke. it's bad for you, ya know?"

looking down at the cigarette in your hand, he eyes the scribble of numbers surrounding the stick. ah that's what she slipped in, he sighs. taking the cigarette from you, he's quick to throw it to the ground, crushing it with his foot.

"i don't," he chuckles at the look of disbelief on your face. leaning in, he plucks the candy from your mouth, pressing a kiss and pushing his tongue in. you taste sweet from the candy he notes, you smell like ice cream too. he's quick to pull back, chuckling when he realizes just how flustered you've become.

"i prefer sweets," he says with a smug smile before popping the candy into his own mouth.

9K notes · View notes

lupinqs · 2 months ago

Note

paige x reader request!! okay so reader has never dated before (she’s always focused on school and boys around her never seem to “meet up” to her standards….right lol) when she gets to college she meets p and they become really close. they end up falling for each other but reader is conflicted bc she has thought she’s been straight but looking back all the signs were there. she’s never wanted to have sex before (men are scary) but she wants to with p, she trusts her. this could be p talking reader through this realization and/or smut (p being really sweet w her bc it’s her first time yk)!! thank you!!

FIRST TIME ━━ paige bueckers x reader

☆ ━ summary: your first time is with paige

☆ ━ word count: 5.3K

☆ ━ warnings: smut with plot (honestly just p eating r out)

☆ ━ links: my masterlist

☆ ━ author’s note: my gift to everyone after that hellish lottery… fuck dallas bro 😐😐 also this is not my best work this month has been fucking terrible so my bad

FOR YOU, it’s always been school. School, school, school. By seventh grade, you already knew you wanted to go into medicine. Your parents both work in the field—your mom at the hospital, your dad in his private practice. You grew up hearing their stories over dinner, listening to the ups and downs of their days, feeling that pull towards something important, something that could make a difference. The way they talked about their work, you couldn’t help but imagine yourself there, following in their footsteps.

So, you worked. Hard. From the moment you set your sights on medicine, there was no looking back. High school flew by in a steady cycle of textbooks, flashcards, volunteer shifts, and internships, each one a piece of the puzzle you were putting together. You spent weekends shadowing doctors, hours in study groups, a summer interning at the local hospital where you first learned what a real emergency room felt like. Even then, nothing could shake you from the goal you’d carved out for yourself. You’d known from the start where you wanted to end up: Yale. As a Connecticut native, it felt like a given. You saw yourself there so clearly that the idea of not getting in didn’t even occur to you.

Until it did. And when the rejection letter came, it was like the ground had fallen out beneath you. There was shock, disappointment, embarrassment. You’d done everything right—how had that not been enough? But still, UConn is a good college, and the goal is med school anyway. You tell yourself it doesn’t matter where you get your undergraduate degree, that you’ll just work even harder this time. When it comes to med school applications, there won’t be any mistakes, no missed chances. You won’t let it happen again—you will be going to Yale.

The thing is, school’s been your everything for so long that you don’t have much of a life outside of it. You had a first kiss once, an awkward moment with a boy who you never talked to again. But after that, there hasn’t been anything more. You’ve always been busy, and to be honest, there’s never been anyone who made you want to carve out time. Every relationship around you seemed like a distraction, a place for people to get hurt or get sidetracked, neither of which were part of your plan. Your friends like to tease you about it, saying your standards are too high, that no one will ever live up to the expectations you’ve set. And maybe that was true. Maybe that’s what it is. The boys just don’t meet your standards. You accept that, not caring to pay any mind to them (though they certainly paid mind to you), continuing to stay focused.

But at UConn, things start to feel different. College is strange that way—there’s structure, but there’s also space, a little more breathing room. It’s not like high school, where everyone knew what you were doing all the time, where your schedule was mapped out. Here, people let loose, go out, drink, stay up until all hours for no reason at all. You do it, too, and you realize it’s fun. But you never let it go further, never bother to get any sort of romance or even hook-ups involved in your life—because you’re still who you are. Your studies come first, always. You continuously remind yourself of that. Med school is the goal, and you work towards it every day.

Besides, you’re not even really interested in dating or anything of the sort.

That is, until you meet a certain blonde-haired basketball player.

It happens during the second semester of your freshman year, in a class you’re only taking for the credit. You barely even remember signing up for it—some easy elective with minimal workload to round out your schedule. You don’t care about the subject, don’t even plan on giving it much effort beyond the occasional assignment because you know it’ll be easy anyways. But then she walks in.

Paige Bueckers. You’ve heard the name before, of course. Everyone has. She’s the sophomore basketball phenom, the face of UConn athletics, practically a celebrity on campus. You’ve never paid her much attention—basketball isn’t really your thing—but the buzz around her is impossible to ignore. Still, when she strolls into the classroom, disheveled and running a little late, it takes you a moment to connect the dots. Her hair’s thrown into a low bun, messy strands framing her face. She’s in a gray UConn sweatsuit, the hem of her hoodie slightly frayed, her glasses sitting casually on the bridge of her nose. She scans the room, sees that the only open seat is next to you, and slides into it without hesitation.

“Hey,” she says, flashing you a quick smile before dropping her bag on the floor.

And that’s it. Nothing monumental. Just a simple greeting. But there’s something about her—her presence, the casual ease with which she takes up space—that immediately hooks your attention.

At first, you try to keep your head down. She’s just another classmate, someone you’ll probably never see again once the semester’s over. But Paige doesn’t make it easy to ignore her. She leans over to you during class, whispering comments about the lecture or the professor’s awkward hand gestures. She’s funny—unexpectedly so—and you catch yourself smiling at her jokes even when you try not to.

You notice other things, too. Like the sharp line of her jaw, the way her broad shoulders stretch the fabric of her sweatshirt, the subtle curve of muscle beneath her long sleeves. She’s not the type of traditional feminine pretty that you’d expect, not delicate or polished. No makeup, no carefully curated outfits. But there’s something about her—an almost sculptural beauty, like she’s been chiseled from marble by a particularly ambitious artist. It’s distracting. And you don’t get distracted easily.

When your friends convince you to go to your first basketball game of the season, you tell yourself it’s just for the experience. A chance to break out of your usual routine. But then you see her on the court. And suddenly, everything makes sense. Paige doesn’t just play basketball; she owns it. She’s gorgeous out there, all fire and intensity, her movements fluid and commanding. You find yourself watching her more than the game, mesmerized by the way she moves, just her presence in general.

After that, you start looking forward to class in a way you never have before. It’s not the subject, obviously. It’s Paige. The way she smiles at you when she walks in, the way she leans over to whisper something ridiculous during a particularly boring lecture. She’s the best part of your day, and you don’t even try to deny it.

When the two of you get paired up for a group project, it feels like fate. You go to her apartment to work on it, expecting the same easy banter from class, but it’s more than that. The two of you get off track almost immediately, laughing over something stupid, and before you know it, hours have passed and you’ve barely made any progress. You end up staying way later than planned, both of you scrambling to get back on task before you have to call it a night. By the time you leave, you’ve swapped numbers, and from then on, the texts come easily.

It starts with class updates, but soon it’s more. Late night conversations that have nothing to do with school, Facetimes, too. Hanging out becomes natural: grabbing frozen yogurt, wandering around campus, studying together even when you don’t need to. You talk and talk and talk, and somehow, it’s never boring. Paige has this way of making everything feel lighter, like the weight you usually carry around doesn’t exist when you’re with her.

One night, after one of your froyo runs, you’re sitting in her car. The frozen yogurt is long gone, but neither of you seems ready to say goodbye. The conversation slows, dipping into a comfortable silence. You glance at her, and she’s already looking at you. There’s a shift in the air, something unspoken passing between you. And then, suddenly, she’s kissing you.

You freeze. Not because you don’t want it, but because it’s so unexpected. Your brain can’t catch up with what’s happening, and for a moment, you’re completely still. Paige pulls back almost immediately, her face flushing as she stumbles through an apology. “I’m sorry—I thought—God, I must’ve read that wrong. I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay,” you interrupt, shaking your head as you finally find your voice. “I didn’t mind.”

Her eyes search yours, uncertain, and then the silence settles again. Before you can second-guess yourself, you lean back in. This time, the kiss is slower, more deliberate. Her hand cups your jaw, warm and steady, while your fingers find their way to her arm, brushing over the solid muscle of her bicep. The center console is a nuisance, forcing you both into awkward angles, but you don’t care. It’s all soft lips and quiet breaths, a perfect mix of hunger and gentleness.

When she finally pulls away, she drives you back to your dorm, her voice soft as she says, “I had a good time tonight.”

You manage a quiet “Me too,” before slipping out of the car.

Back in your dorm, your roommate is asleep, leaving you alone with your thoughts. You lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, your heart still racing. You just kissed Paige Bueckers. A girl. And you liked it. More than liked it—you want to do it again.

The realization hits you like a freight train. You’ve never thought about girls like that before, never let your mind wander there. You always assumed you were straight, just too busy or too picky to find the right guy. But now, as you think about Paige, about her hands on your face, her lips against yours, it all starts to make sense. You never wanted boys. Not really. That kiss in high school with that random guy had felt wrong, awkward. The idea of being with a man had never appealed to you—except for maybe Drew Starkey, but even that felt more like a joke than anything real.

But this? The thought of Paige, of her smile, her laugh, the way she made you feel like you were the only person in the room—that feels real. And it’s terrifying.

Because now you know two things for sure:

You’re gay.

And you really, really like Paige Bueckers.

And it turns out that she really likes you, too.

Because that first kiss turns into another kiss. And another. And now, every time you’re alone together, it happens like clockwork.

The two of you have started hanging out in your rooms more often, the need for privacy overtaking any desire to sit in common areas or go out. Paige’s teammates joke that the two of you have become “homebodies,” but they don’t know the half of it. They don’t know how, as soon as the door closes, her lips find yours, soft and insistent, her hands framing your face as if you’re the most delicate thing she’s ever touched.

You’re not dating—at least, not officially. You haven’t talked about it, haven’t dared to address what’s happening between you. It’s easier this way, or so you tell yourself. But a part of you wonders why Paige doesn’t bring it up. Why she hasn’t said anything about what this is or what it could be. And that bothers you, even if you try to push it to the back of your mind. Then again, you’ve never done relationships, so maybe this in between is for the better—at least, for now.

Tonight, her teammates have gone to Ted’s. Paige had asked if you wanted to go, but when you wrinkled your nose and said, “Not really,” she grinned and said, “Me neither.” So, here you are, alone in her dorm room, a movie playing on the small TV mounted to the wall. Neither of you are watching it.

You’re lying on her bed, her weight hovering above you, and there’s no space, no breath between the two of you. Her lips are on yours, insistent and hungry, her body pressing against yours as if she can’t get close enough. There’s an urgency in her kiss tonight, a need that you can feel deep in your chest. You kiss her back with equal fervor, your hands tangling in her hair, pulling her closer, trying to anchor yourself to her.

Her hands are on your hips, her fingers digging in just enough to make you gasp against her mouth. You feel her smile against your lips at the sound and it makes you smile, too.

And, for the first time, you find yourself wanting more. Your skin feels like it’s on fire, your nerves alight with a buzzing energy that you don’t fully understand but don’t want to lose. Paige seems to sense it too because her hands slide up your sides, her thumbs tracing slow, deliberate lines against your skin.

Her lips leave yours, trailing along your jaw, down to your neck. The kisses are messy and open-mouthed, her breath hot and ragged against your skin. When her hands slip under your shirt, tracing over your stomach, you shiver.

“Can I take it off?” she asks, her voice soft but tinged with want.

You hesitate for a moment before nodding, lifting your arms to help her pull the shirt over your head. It’s gone in an instant, and you’re left in just your bra. The cool air against your skin makes you shiver again, but it’s nothing compared to the way Paige looks at you.

Her eyes roam over you, but not in a way that makes you feel objectified. It’s more like she’s in awe, like she can’t believe you’re here with her, like she can’t believe she gets to see you like this. It’s overwhelming.

You look away, suddenly self-conscious. It’s nerve-wracking, you’ve never done this before, and you know that Paige has. But Paige also knows that you haven’t, which you suppose makes things easier. You feel her fingers catch your chin, gently turning your head back to face her. Her touch is so tender it nearly makes you cry.

“If you wanna stop, tell me,” she says, her blue eyes locked onto yours, her voice steady and sincere.

You shake your head, your heart pounding. “I don’t wanna stop,” you say quickly, and then, after a pause, you add, your face flushing slightly with embarrassment, “I’m just a little nervous.”

She smiles softly, leaning down to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth. Her hands move to your ribs, tracing slow, soothing lines along your skin. “It’s okay,” she murmurs. “You don’t gotta be. I’m right here.”

Her words settle something inside you, easing the tension in your chest. You nod, and she kisses you again, her lips slow and deliberate against yours. The urgency from earlier is still there, but now it’s tempered by something softer, something deeper. You want her closer, impossibly closer.

Her hands slide up your sides once more, stopping just below your chest, and the anticipation alone makes your breath catch. When her palms finally cup your breasts through your bra, her touch is firm yet reverent, and the sensation makes you gasp against her mouth. Your breathing deepens, your chest rising and falling under her hands.

It’s instinctual, the way your hands move to her waist, your fingers slipping underneath the hem of her long-sleeve shirt. Her skin is warm beneath your touch, and you can feel the subtle definition of her abs as your hands explore, your palms smoothing over her sides.

Paige groans softly into your mouth, her body pressing harder against yours as if she’s trying to fuse you together. Then she pulls away just enough to tug her long-sleeve shirt over her head in one fluid motion, tossing it carelessly across the room. The moment it’s gone, she’s back, her lips finding yours again, more insistent than ever.

She’s in just her sports bra now, and you can’t help but let your fingers trail along the edges of it, brushing against the smooth fabric and the warm skin beneath. Paige shivers under your touch, and the knowledge that you’re affecting her this much makes your heart race even faster.

Then you feel her hands move behind your back, her fingers toying with the clasp of your bra. She hesitates, her lips hovering over yours as if she’s waiting for your permission.

You pull back just slightly, your lips still brushing hers as you murmur, “Take it off.”

Her eyes flicker with something intense, something almost vulnerable, as she nods. She unclasps your bra with practiced ease, sliding the straps down your shoulders before pulling it away completely. For a moment, she doesn’t move, her gaze dropping to your bare chest. Her throat bobs as she swallows hard, and when she finally speaks, her voice is low and husky.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” she mutters, her eyes locking with yours for a heartbeat before her lips are on yours again, desperate and consuming.

Her hands return to your breasts, cupping and kneading them in a way that makes your head fall back against the pillows. A quiet whimper escapes your throat, and Paige groans in response, the sound vibrating against your lips.

Her mouth begins to wander, leaving your lips to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses down your jawline, then lower to your neck. She lingers there, her teeth grazing your skin before she soothes the slight sting with her tongue. Each kiss feels deliberate, like she’s trying to memorize the way you taste, the way you react to her touch.

She moves lower, her lips brushing along your collarbone, her breath warm and uneven against your skin. Her hands continue their slow, deliberate exploration of your chest, her thumbs brushing over your nipples in a way that makes your breath hitch.

Her lips trace the edges of your breasts, teasing and deliberate, and it’s almost too much. Your fingers tighten their hold on her sides, your nails digging slightly into her skin as you try to ground yourself.

Paige’s lips move with an unrelenting intensity, open-mouthed kisses peppered across your chest as though she’s determined to worship every inch of you. When her mouth closes over one of your nipples, the heat and pressure of her tongue send a jolt through your body, and you swallow hard, trying to keep yourself steady. The sensation is new, overwhelming in the best way, and you feel a steady, growing thrum between your legs that you can’t ignore.

She doesn’t rush, her lips and tongue moving with precision, her hands anchoring you to the bed as if she doesn’t want you to float away. Her mouth trails from one breast to the other, lavishing attention in a way that makes your breath hitch and your fingers curl into the sheets.

“Paige,” you murmur, voice barely above a whisper, your chest rising and falling heavily as her lips continue their descent.

She hums softly against your skin, a sound that vibrates through you as her mouth moves lower. She lingers over your stomach, her lips and tongue leaving a warm, wet trail across your skin. When she sucks on a spot just below your navel, you know she’s leaving a mark, but you don’t care. The sensation is intoxicating, her gentle pressure grounding you as your thoughts scatter into nothing but her touch, her presence.

Then, her hands move to the waistband of your sweatpants, pausing just above your hips. Her fingers don’t tug or pull, just hover there, her thumbs brushing lightly against your skin. You glance down at her, heart pounding in your chest, only to find her already looking up at you.

Her eyes are soft, full of a question she hasn’t yet asked, though there’s no mistaking the want clouding her gaze. When she finally speaks, her voice is quiet, careful, “Do you want me to?”

You swallow thickly, your throat dry. Do you want her to? God, yes. It’s not even a question. You don’t just want her—you think you might need her in this moment, need her to fix that ache that’s been building between your legs since she first kissed you tonight.

But it’s scary. Already, you’ve never been this exposed with anyone before, and this—this is something else entirely. A deeper kind of intimacy, one you thought you’d be ready for but now realize the weight of. Whenever you pictured what your first time might be like, you never really thought it would be too important, but now, here, with Paige above you, it feels monumental.

But who else would it be, if not her? Paige, who makes you feel safe, wanted, adored. You trust her in a way you’ve never trusted anyone. She’s kind, patient, and you like her so much it almost hurts. It only makes sense for it to be her. Even if it’s scary. Even if the thought creeps in—what if you’re not enough for her? What if you’re different from the others she’s been with, and she’s disappointed?

Your thoughts are interrupted as Paige reaches for your hand, her fingers threading through yours in a gentle, grounding gesture. Her eyes stay on yours, searching, concerned. She says your name, softly, once, then again. And then, “Baby…” Her voice cracks just slightly, and it tugs at something deep inside you. “Please don’t feel pressured. It’s okay. We don’t gotta do anything else.”

The way she says it, so sincere and unselfish, almost undoes you. You shake your head quickly, squeezing her hand in reassurance. “I don’t feel pressured,” you say, and though your voice wavers, it’s honest. You take a deep breath, steadying yourself before you continue. “Just… just keep going, please.”

She hesitates, her eyes locked on yours for a long moment, as if she’s searching for any sign of hesitation, any flicker of doubt. When she seems to find nothing but your own need and trust, she nods, her expression softening into something almost reverent.

“Okay,” she murmurs, her lips pressing a kiss to your stomach, this one gentler than the ones before, less insistent but no less meaningful. She kisses you again, and again, her hands moving slowly as her fingers hook around the waistband of your sweatpants.

She pulls them down your legs with care, her eyes flicking back to yours to make sure it’s still okay. You nod, your heart racing but your body completely at ease with her. And as Paige tosses the sweatpants aside, her hands return to your hips, her lips never far from your skin, and you feel nothing but trust, nothing but her.

She places feather-light kisses along your inner thighs, moving slowly, her lips brushing over the sensitive skin in a way that makes your breath hitch. Her hands rest on your hips, thumbs tracing lazy circles that feel both soothing and electrifying. When her lips press against the edge of your underwear, your heart races so fast it’s all you can hear.

And then, without breaking her rhythm, she tilts her head slightly and presses a soft, lingering kiss right over your clothed clit. The sensation is light, almost teasing, but it sends a shiver coursing through you. You take a shaky breath through your nose, swallowing hard, because she’s barely touched you, and already your body feels like it’s on fire.

When her fingers slide to the waistband of your underwear, she pauses, her eyes flicking up to meet yours. The unspoken question is there again, and this time, you don’t even need to think about it. “Mm-hmm,” you hum softly, nodding as your chest rises and falls a little faster.

Paige nods back, her expression soft but full of intent, and she hooks her fingers around the elastic, sliding your underwear down slowly, carefully, as if she’s unwrapping something fragile. The cool air against your skin makes you shiver, and when her gaze lowers, taking you in fully for the first time, you feel your face heat up, a mixture of anticipation and self-consciousness twisting in your chest.

Instinctively, your legs start to close, but Paige catches them gently, her hands warm and steady as she presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh. “Don’t hide,” she murmurs, her voice low and soothing. When you don’t immediately relax, she looks up at you, sincerity written all over her face. “You’re so pretty, baby,” she says, her words soft but firm, like a promise.

Her reassurance eases some of the tension, and when she presses another kiss to your thigh—this one closer to where you want her—you let your legs fall open again, trusting her. Paige doesn’t rush. She kisses along your thigh again, then again, each one inching closer to where your body feels like it’s burning.

And then she’s there, her breath warm against your clit as she places the softest kiss there. The contact has you gasping quietly, your hips shifting involuntarily. She pauses, letting her lips linger, as if testing your response. When you let out a quiet, broken sound, she pulls back just slightly, her eyes lifting to yours as if checking one last time.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” she whispers, her hands smoothing up and down your thighs. You nod quickly, a whispered, “Okay,” tumbling out, though it feels like an understatement.

And then, without wasting any more time, Paige’s tongue slides along your core. That alone is enough to make your whole body flex, your stomach shuddering. Before you even get to process that foreign feeling of her tongue running up your slit, Paige presses her mouth against your clit completely, rolling her tongue right to the collection of nerves.

Her tongue alternates between soft, sweeping strokes and precise flicks that have you gasping for breath. It’s almost too much, and yet, not enough all at once. You bite your lip, trying to stay quiet, but a moan finally escapes when her tongue moves a certain way, hitting a spot that has your whole body tightening. The sound you make is desperate, unrestrained, and your face flushes in embarrassment. But Paige doesn’t seem to mind—if anything, she doubles down, a soft moan escaping her lips, vibrating against you that sends a fresh wave of pleasure rolling through your body.

Jesus Christ, she’s good at this. Somewhere in the back of your mind, it makes you wonder how many people she’s been with, how much practice she’s had to make you feel like this. But then her tongue slips inside you, making you forget any and all of your thoughts, before it slides back out and smoothes back along your clit.

“Mmm, P,” you manage to gasp, your voice shaky and uneven. She glances up at you, her gaze meeting yours, and the sight of her—eyes dark with want, lips glistening—sends heat flooding through you. When she holds your gaze and tilts her head just slightly, her tongue hitting that same perfect spot again, your head falls back against the pillow, a breathless cry slipping out.

“Right there?” she murmurs, her voice low and muffled against you. The vibrations of her words are enough to make you tremble, and all you can do is nod, your fingers tightening in her hair as you whisper a choked, “Yeah—yes, shit.”

Paige doesn’t let up for a second, her lips and tongue working in seamless harmony to drive you closer and closer to the edge. It’s overwhelming, how good she is at this. Every flick of her tongue, every deliberate motion feels impossibly intentional, like she knows exactly what to do to unravel you piece by piece. Your thighs tense around her, hands tangling into her blonde hair as you press her closer, hips shifting instinctively to meet her movements.

Her hands grip your thighs firmly, keeping you steady as she focuses all of her attention on you. You can feel the intensity in every motion she makes—each swirl of her tongue, every press of her lips against you is filled with purpose. She’s completely locked in, as if nothing else in the world exists but you. The tension in your stomach coils tighter and tighter, your breaths coming in short, shallow gasps.

The noises slipping from your lips are no longer something you can control. You’ve never felt anything like this before, never imagined something could feel this good. Your hips move against her instinctively, searching for more, for everything she can give you. And Paige? Paige meets you exactly where you are, matching your every movement with a rhythm that drives you absolutely wild. As your legs begin to shake, she seems to sense your need for something more, and she slides her hands beneath your thighs, lifting your legs and placing them over her shoulders to get ever closer to your wet, dripping cunt.

“Fuck,” you breathe, your voice trembling as the pressure builds higher and higher. You’re teetering on the edge, every nerve in your body alight with sensation. Paige doesn’t stop, her brows furrowing slightly in concentration as her her mouth becomes more precise and focused, tongue swiping so quickly against your wetness that you can tell she’s determined to push you over. “Paige, I think I’m gonna—”

You feel her nod against you, her tongue chasing the movement, and, between her kitten-licks and sucks, she gasps, breathless herself, “I know, I know. I gotchu, ma.”

And when she dives back in, taking your clit into her mouth and sucking it, her teeth scraping against you, her head shaking with the effort, that seems to do it. Your body tenses, toes curling as you gasp her name again, louder this time. The dam finally breaks, a wave of ecstasy crashing over you so intensely that it leaves you trembling. You cry out, your back arching off the bed as your hand grips Paige’s hair tightly, holding her to you as your orgasm overtakes you, your pussy dripping.

Fuck.

Paige doesn’t pull away, her hands steady on your thighs as she guides you through it, her tongue slowing its movements but not stopping, easing you gently down from your peak. Your body shudders with aftershocks, and you’re left breathless, your heart pounding wildly in your chest.

When Paige finally pulls back, her lips are swollen and glistening, a soft, almost smug smile on her face. She crawls up your body, pressing a kiss to your hip, then your stomach, before finally reaching your lips again. Her kiss is soft, tender, a stark contrast to the intensity of what just happened.

“Hey,” she murmurs against your lips, her voice gentle as she brushes a strand of hair from your face. “You good?”

You nod, still catching your breath, and manage to whisper, “That was… fuck, P.”

Paige grins, her fingers lightly tracing circles along your side. “Did so good for me,” she murmurs, her voice warm and affectionate. “God, you’re so beautiful.”

Her words make your heart flutter, and you bury your face in her neck, a shy smile spreading across your lips. Paige wraps her arms around you, pulling you close as you both settle into the bed. The steady rhythm of her breathing against you is soothing, grounding you after all of… that.

“I’m really glad it was you,” you murmur softly, your fingers idly tracing patterns on her shoulder.

Paige presses a kiss to the top of your head, her voice low and full of sincerity as she replies, “Me too.”

#paige bueckers #uconn wbb #paige bueckers fic #uconn huskies #wbb #uconn #wcbb #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers fluff #wcbb x reader #wlw post #wlw #lgbtq

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6gumi · 8 months ago

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blessed by the heavens above!

synopsis ﹒ jujutsu kaisen men and their tittie obsession !

pairings ﹒ satoru gojo 、suguru geto 、choso kamo 、kento nanami 、ryomen sukuna ( implications of heian form ! ) 、toji fushiguro x f!reader

cw ﹒nsfw MDNI. tits, tits, tits ! ! ! 、titplay 、body worship ( ? ) 、established relationships ( ? ) 、petnames ( pretty thing 、princess 、reader referred to as “girl” once, etc ) 、titsucking 、size difference 、fingering ( sukuna only ) 、 toji called “daddy” once 、 jujutsu kaisen men n’ their luv for titties . . . | tag ! @diorsbrando

note﹒BACK W/ THE JJK WRITINGS ! ! YAAAAY ! ! coughs coughs wrote this while i was sickies . . . (again) i kept sniffling & sniffing each word i wrote down cries . . . i hope i didn’t make too many mistakes :> | reblogs are highly appreciated. if you want to talk to me or send thirsts / requests, feel free to send me an ask ! — millie ♡

୨୧ SATORU GOJO

gojo was having a rough day . . . the higher ups giving him an earful here and there . . . and exorcizing curses left and right, he was exhausted, so it was almost obvious how he was gonna relax for the entire night ! by laying on your chest ! “i’m gonna take it off now, kay?” his large hands ran through the silky piece of fabric covering your entire body. his beautiful eyes widened at the sight of your bare chest, appreciation clear in his gaze. he licked his lips, unable to resist reaching out and lightly grazing his fingers over your skin, a low hum rumbling in his throat. "fuck . . . now that's what I'm talking about," he says, his voice husky with desire. "damn, angel. your tits are absolutely perfect, just like you." with a mischievous glint in his eye, your exhausted boyfriend leaned in and took one of her nipples into his mouth, suckling it gently before releasing it with a pop . . smirking up at you before latching his mouth back onto your nipple.

shit, he loved your tits, he’d ways pay attention to its warmth, and how it felt within his wet mouth. his mouth nearly watering as he struggled to contain his excitement. gojo’s teeth lazily bit at your nipple, trying to be as gentle as possible . . . breathing heavily through his nose trying to maintain some semblance of control amidst the temptation of your body. you were so small compared to him, yet here he was suckin’ and biting at your nipples . . practically crushing your body from below. despite that, his eyes never left their prize, you. reaching out, he brushed a thumb over one taut nipple of yours . . . earning a sharp gasp. “you make me wanna touch, taste, and explore every inch of you, princess.” the sorcerer spoke playfully, squeezing gently. “can we do this every time i come home?”

୨୧ SUGURU GETO

suguru’s heart swelled as he watched you curl up next to him, he needed your warmth and you were giving him just that. the soft whimpers you made . . . drove him to the edge. the room was bathed in a warm, inviting glow from the fairy lights strung around the windows, casting a rosy hue on the soft sheets and fluffy pillows surrounding you both. gently, suguru traced his fingers along the smooth curve of your hip, drawing lazy circles that made you squirm ever so slightly. despite that, it was a simple pleasure, but it brought him immense joy to see the effect he had on his adorable girlfriend. the sorcerer leaned in closer, whispering into your ear . . . bringing his voice down to a low yet soft whisper as his breath tickled your delicate skin. "see? you’re doing so well, bun," your boyfriend cooed softly, his voice full of warmth and affection. “hm . . . were these things always this cute?”

“your body’s divine, i could look at it for eternity.” suguru examined your tits, he was almost . . . fascinated with how they look. god, how did he not notice their beauty until now? with a tender smile, your boyfriend began to play with your ample breasts, pinching and twisting your sensitive nipples as he watched your pretty face contort in pure pleasure. “yeah . . . my darling likes that, hm?” he could feel his dick pressing against it’s confines as he grunted, squeezing at your pretty breasts even harder than before. “. . . s—sugu . . .” a soft murmur left your lips, your teary eyes gazing up at him. “ . . ‘squeezin’ too hard, sugu . .” “lovely . . . if you say that, i can guarantee that i’ll squeeze these pretty things even harder than i already am. so keep that pretty mouth shut and let ‘sugu do all the work, got it?”

୨୧ CHOSO KAMO

“ . . . baby,” choso’s low voice reverberated through the room, his stare sweet and gentle as he pinched your nipple against his thumb. his own eyes were wide at the display of your breasts, a shiver of desire coursed through him . . . swallowing a lump in his throat as he could feel his dick beginning to swell, pressing against the fabric of his pants. "they’re so beautiful . . “ choso murmured, his voice thick with need for you, the sight was too much. unknowingly licking his lips, he brought your other breast to his mouth, sucking on the nipple and teasing it with his tongue. the cursed spirit’s fingers trailed downwards to your sides, teasing the edge of your panties . . . his grip tightening, almost urging you to rock against him, to feel the length of his erection.

"you’re a good girl," choso praised, his fingers lightly tracing over the curves of your breasts nonstop. he was addicted to the feeling . . . the feeling of your sensitive skin sent shivers down his spine. choso leaned in once more, his lips finding your other nipple, licking and sucking gently, watching as you arched into the touch. "you’re a good girl for letting me see these beautiful things . . . so damn hot," choso bit down gently, a soft smile playing on his lips. choso knew the real remedy for your heat; a good, deep pounding from his throbbing cock. but yet . . . he wanted your breasts . . he wanted to give them his attention, worship them. you always knew he had a thing for titties . . . but tonight, he let his obsession shine through even more. your nipples peaked under the gentle pressure, and the sight sent a surge of arousal coursing through his body. “so pretty, baby . . . such pretty tits you have . .”

୨୧ KENTO NANAMI

nanami’s grip tightens on your arm, a low growl rumbling in his chest. he’s been waiting for this, for you. he’s been away from you for too long, a dreadful feeling of irritation was running through his veins and you noticed that. “you . . . okay, ken?” your husband sighs, hauling you onto his lap, the heat from his body seeping through you. you’re smaller than him, and he loves that. it makes him feel good. nanami’s hand cups your breast, kneading it roughly through the fabric. " . . . i’m just exhausted, princess," he cooed slowly, his voice thick with desire. “just . . . just wanna taste you tonight.” nanami had never imagined himself as the type to be so impulsive, but now here he was, unable to resist the pleasure that awaited him, the irresistible joy of feeling your pretty tits he loved so much against his hands.

“ . . . you’re beautiful.” nanami’s heart raced as he feasted on the sight of you infront of him, he was a man who had never allowed himself such indulgences, but now, in this moment, he found he could no longer resist. lowering his head, your husband tenderly kissed each of your swollen nipples, his hands gently massaging the flesh that surrounded them. your whines grew more insistent and adorable, prompting nanami to do more than he should. the sound of your whine was like music to his ears, sending a thrill down his spine as he leaned down . . . lips brushing against your other nipple, nibbling softly. “pardon me for my ignorance, sweetheart . . . i just needed you so much today. you’re so beautiful . . . it drives me absolutely crazy. these tits . . . so irresistible.”

୨୧ RYOMEN SUKUNA

sukuna reveled in the warmth of your body against his own. the feel of your soft yet delicious flesh beneath his fingertips sent electric shock down his spine. sukuna roughly squeezed one of your breasts, marveling at its firmness. “m—more please . .” you muttered against his chest, the curse’s large hand slid further down, fingers probing between your legs as the wetness he discovered sent a surge of excitement coursing through him. “. . . impatient girl.” the king of curses slowly pushed two fingers inside of you, feeling the tight warmth enveloping his fingers. “you’re a needy slut, you know that?” he scoffs, his fingers in and out of your pretty pussy gently. As he did so, he leaned in closer, “here you are . . . begging me for more. just wait ‘till i fuck this slutty pussy of yours ‘till all you see are stars,”

sukuna’s fingers worked expertly, chuckling lowly at your sweet whines while his other arms held your thighs, keeping your pretty legs spread for him “pathetic . . . ‘s like you’re easy to break.” his fingers danced further as his thumb circled your clit while the others plunged in and out of your cunt, coaxing you closer and closer to the edge. "just look at these tits . . .” with each syllable of his words he spoke, his digits gradually worked faster, latching his mouth right on your nipples . . . transitioning between sucking, nipping, teasing. the king of curses could feel the heat of your desire, and he wanted to be the one to quench it. “so fuckin’ small . . . even your pussy can’t take my fingers.”

୨୧ TOJI FUSHIGURO

"do’ya like this, doll?" toji’s way of relieving his stress is getting a small ‘lil squeeze of your tits ! or . . . perhaps more than that. his cruel gaze glanced down at your smaller stature, a cocky grin on his lips as he was practically looming over you. toji’s hand slid down your figure, digits dipping between your legs, stroking your wetness. “tell me you want this. tell me you want me." his hands roamed over your entire body, his touch confident and bold as he explored you willingly beneath his body. "damn, you're even more amazing than i imagined," he whispered into your ear, “ . . . might ‘hafta keep ya. don’t want other morons stealin’ ya, doll-face.” toji’s smirk widened as he gently stroked your hair, relishing in the sight of your precious expressions. it was intoxicating to him, this vulnerability that you endured had him in a chokehold.

“always wondered how these pretty tits tasted, baby. guess i should have a ‘lil taste myself tonight,” toji’s frame leaned even closer, looming over yours. “c’mon sweet girl, let daddy take care of you," he whispered, his hand sliding down to cup your breast, his warm breath ghosting over your sensitive flesh before he began to lick and nibble, lapping up the sweet taste of your skin . . his thumb circling with increasing speed as your moans grew louder, more desperate. “fuck, pretty-dolly . . . yer tits are drivin’ me crazy.” toji’s low voice rumbled against his chest, his free hand gripping your hip as he held you firmly in place. “c’mere. sit on my lap, pretty thing . i can give ya somethin’ else to moan and whine about.”

#millie’s writings ✔︎#this took so long . . had 2 repost !#jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #toji smut #choso smut #geto smut #geto x reader #nanami smut #sukuna smut #sukuna x reader #nanami x reader #gojo smut #toji x reader #choso x reader

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lostfracturess · 20 days ago

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symptoms and causes | ch. 16

pairing — professor gojo x med student reader

summary — he's arrogant, self-centered, and he's your professor. renowned for his brilliance in neurosurgery and infamous for his allure. too bad you have to work with him on this research team. now you're stuck with dr. satoru gojo, delving into the complexities of both the brain and the heart — and of how far you'd go for a love that could destroy not only him but you as well.

word count — 11.5 k

warnings — 18+ ONLY. contains explicit sexual content, substance and alcohol abuse, dark themes, unhealthy relationships, codependency, trauma, medical content and mentions of death, illness, abuse, and blood. full trigger warnings available on the masterlist. reader discretion is advised.

previously — unable to watch satoru turn to his abusive family for help with naoya's massive lawsuit, you're heading to his party against satoru's wishes, hoping to find something, anything, that might help his situation. but what happens when satoru decides to crash the party? and what will you find in that locked room?

author's note — hello lovelies, welcome back !! this chapter picks up right where we left off, but through satoru's eyes this time. also important note: this chapter contains a brief mention of SA concerning a background event not related to any of our main characters. as always, please mind all trigger warnings. and now enjoy the chaos <3

series masterlist + playlist + ao3 + wattpad

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I saw her the moment I stepped into that goddamn party, and everything inside me went still.

Like that moment right before you drown, when the water first fills your lungs and the world goes quiet. Terrifying and so still.

She stood there under those cheap neon lights, looking scared and yet so beautiful—beautiful in that terrible way that makes you want to destroy something, that makes you want to tear it apart just to prove it's real.

Every fiber of my being screamed to go to her, to grab her and get her the hell out of here. Away from this place, away from him, away from all of it.

But I couldn't move. Couldn't let the mask slip, not here, not with all these eyes on me. So I plastered on that easy smile and played the part of the mildly annoyed professor who just happened to crash a student party.

As if my skin wasn't crawling with the need to use again, veins begging for something—anything—to take the edge off. As if the mere sight of her didn't make me feel like someone had reached into my chest and ripped my fucking heart out, her next breath away from something I might regret.

She looked up at me with those pretty eyes of hers, and I saw the guilt there, swimming just beneath the surface. And for one horrible moment I thought, Good. Let it pull her under like it's pulling me. Let it fill her lungs the way fear is filling mine.

I almost hated her then — for lying to me again and again, for doing stupid things behind my back again and again, for making me feel this goddamn helpless again and again and again and fucking again.

But what lay beneath was worse. Because I knew why she was here. Always trying to save me, even if it meant throwing herself into the deep end, drowning right alongside me. And that's the worst kind of torture, isn't it?

Watching the person you love cut themselves open on all your broken pieces, bleeding themselves dry, yet still reaching for more. And that thought made me want to scream.

"We'll talk about this later," I said, forcing that easy smile back onto my face though everything inside me was screaming to get her out of this goddamn house before she got herself into more trouble. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I need a drink."

I pushed past her, shoulder grazing hers, and I had to clench my fists to keep from turning back. Had to bite my tongue until I tasted blood to keep from saying something I couldn't take back. She had no idea what she did to me. Or maybe she did, and that was even worse.

Love and hate tangled together in my chest until I couldn't breathe. Because that's what she does to me — makes me feel everything at once, until I can't tell what's real anymore. Until I can't tell if I want to love her or ruin her. Until I can't remember which one would hurt more. Who I was before her. If I was anyone at all.

And it hit me then, as I left her standing there, all defiance and reckless stupidity and so unbearably precious it physically hurt—this must be what they mean when they say love and hate are two sides of the same coin. Because I loved her so much it felt like hatred. Hated her so deeply it could only be love.

Always on the razor's edge. One wrong step, and we'd both bleed out. Maybe we already were.

When was the last time I even went to a party like this anyway? Years ago, probably. Back when I could still pretend I had my shit together. Before I understood what it meant to love someone so consuming that self-destruction became a form of worship.

I needed a drink. Maybe ten. Maybe something stronger.

Bass thundered through the floorboards as I shouldered my way deeper into the house, some shitty pop track slamming in my skull. Or maybe that was just the rage still burning in my bloodstream.

Sweaty bodies pressed in on all sides, but I barely noticed, lost in the chaos raging in my head. Lost in the desperate need scratching at my throat to turn back, to find her, to make sure she hadn't slipped away like every other good thing in my life.

I ordered vodka. First sip burned, but not enough. Never enough to wash away the fear, to forget that she was here, in this house, with him. The same bastard who'd tried to—My grip tightened on the glass. Yeah. Definitely needed something stronger. Here's hoping these kids still remember how to party.

"Professor Gojo! No way!"

A group of my students appeared beside me at the bar, their faces flushed with alcohol. Aoi, of course—that kid was everywhere. And Miwa, looking starstruck as always. Just my fucking luck.

"Is this what you all do instead of studying for my exams?" I asked, letting that easy smile slide into place.

"Come on, Prof, we've been killing ourselves over your damned hard exams," Miwa chimed in, all bright eyes and alcohol courage. "We deserve a break."

I let myself slip into the familiar role. The cool professor. The guy everyone wants to hang with. It was easier than I expected, letting their drunken energy wash over me, cracking jokes, making them laugh. Almost enough to wash out the withdrawal that made it nearly impossible to think straight. Almost enough to forget why I was really here. Almost.

Aoi was rambling about something, but I wasn't listening. Instead, I turned slightly, catching her gaze across the room. She looked at me like she wanted to kill me. Funny, how we wanted the same thing sometimes.

My woman. My stubborn, reckless, absolutely infuriating woman. Even now, with me watching her from across the room, I could see that defiance bright in her eyes. Even now, even here, in defiance of everything I'd asked of her, she stood her ground.

It was admirable, really. And sometimes, that very defiance made me want to break her. Perhaps only to prove I could. To prove she wasn't in control. Perhaps because I was terrified that I wasn't. That I never was.

It's terrifying how thin that line is.

"See? Fucking legend!" Aoi raised his beer, at something I said, I think. I can't remember. Something clever, probably. Something that fits the role. "To the coolest professor on campus!"

I raised my glass, I think. I can't remember. And that's when I caught sight of them by the front entrance. Suguru walked up to her, still standing where I'd left her, and cradled her face in his hands, tilting it up to meet his gaze. My god, could he be any more obvious about it?

I knew that look in his eyes. Had seen it countless times before, during all those long hours in the lab when he thought I wasn't paying attention. The way he'd lean in close to check her work, his hand lingering on her shoulder a moment too long. The way his eyes would follow her every move.

My best friend, in love with the love of my life. What a sick fucking joke.

He was examining her face now, probably making sure she was alright, being the good, caring friend he always was. His thumb brushed across her cheek, and something violent stirred in my gut. Because she didn't pull away. Of course she didn't. She never did, not with him.

They looked good together, standing there in the dim light. The brilliant researcher and his gifted student. No addiction between them. No sharp edges that sliced you open if you got too close. And I hated that.

I watched as she placed her hand over his, the gesture unbearably tender. Watched as he smiled down at her, that gentle smile he reserved only for her.

And just for a moment — one single, agonizing moment — I let myself picture a world where I hadn't reached her first. Where she'd chosen him instead. The better man. The one who'd never drag her down into his own personal hell.

The thoughts spiraled darker, louder, until I could barely breathe through the noise. Glass creaked under my grip. I needed a fucking pill. Needed something, anything, to make this stop. To make everything just fucking stop.

"Professor?" Miwa’s voice. "You okay?"

More students crowded the bar, blocking my view of them. One of them—what was his name? Third-year, not a complete idiot—shoved another beer into my hand. I chugged it in one long pull, their chatter fading to background noise.

"Well." That voice. That fucking voice. "Look who decided to crash my party after all."

I turned, meeting Naoya's scarred face with a smile that was all teeth and no warmth. "Zenin. Quite the gathering you've got here."

"Indeed." He signaled the bartender. "I gotta say though, I'm surprised to see you here, Professor. Don't tell me you're playing chaperone tonight?"

His words stripped away any pretense. He knew. Of course he fucking knew why I was really here. Not that I'd been particularly subtle about it.

"Just felt like reliving my youth," I said, taking the drink he offered. Anything to keep my hands busy, to keep myself from finishing what I'd started with his face.

Zenin's smirk widened, the scars pulling his flesh into something even uglier. "Ah yes, the good old days. Back when teachers knew their place and didn't go around screwing their students."

The fake smile slid off my face, the glass creaking in my grip as I pictured how easily his windpipe would crumple under my hands. How satisfying it would be to watch that smirk disappear for good.

"Careful, Zenin. Your face is already fucked up enough as is. Would be a damn shame if something happened to what's left of it."

He laughed, the sound grating on my last nerve like nails on a chalkboard. "Always so protective. But tell me, Professor, does she know the real reason you're here? Does she know about the—"

"Enough," I bit out.

"Oh, did I hit a nerve?" His eyes flicked across the room, landing on her. The way he looked at her made my vision bleed red around the edges. "She really is something else, isn't she? Too bad I didn't get a chance to get her alone that night—"

My hand lashed out before I could think, fisting in his collar. The fabric bunched in my grip as I hauled him close enough to see my own fury reflected in his eyes. "You fucking—"

Then Suguru was there, his hand slamming down on the bar between us. Silent, steady—a wall between me and a one-way ticket to unemployment. He didn't say a word, just fixed me with that look. The one I'd explicitly asked for earlier. Stop me before I do something I'll regret.

Fuck, I was really starting to regret that request right about now.

Then I felt her—her touch impossibly gentle as she laid her hand on my bicep, the heat of her skin seeping through my shirt. She leaned in close, "Satoru, can we talk for a minute?"

Her soft plea sliced through the haze, and suddenly I became acutely aware of the deafening silence that had fallen over the room, of the countless eyes boring into us.

I uncurled my fingers from Naoya's collar one by one, even though everything in me screamed to finish what I'd started. To paint the walls with whatever was left of his face. But I couldn't. We both knew. So I stepped back and followed her.

─── ·✧· ───

She led me through the crowd, her fingers still wrapped so gently around my arm. We pushed our way past the prying eyes, down a hallway, until she found what looked like an empty office. Probably belonged to Naoya's father, judging by the dark wood and that rich people smell.

For a moment, we just stood there, neither of us willing to shatter the fragile silence. Moonlight sliced through the blinds, turning everything silver and strange, like we were underwater. Maybe we were. I wasn't sure anymore. Her hand slipped from my arm, and suddenly I felt cold.

I collapsed into the chair behind the desk, the leather groaning under my weight. She stood silhouetted at the window, arms wrapped tight around herself, and I had to look away. Had to focus on something else, because I knew one glance at those eyes and I'd break.

My fingers found the pill on their own. Out of habit, really. Without thinking, I snatched up the silver letter opener next to me and crushed the pill beneath it, watching the powder scatter across the polished wood like fresh snow. I bent down and let the burn fill my nose, sear through my brain, numbing everything in an instant.

When I looked up, she was staring. Always fucking staring, with eyes that flayed me to the bone. And she did it so effortlessly. Saw through everyone around her with that unnerving precision. Or maybe she saw through everything so clearly because she looked for the very things she wanted to hide from others.

"That's new," she said. Not an accusation. I was glad it wasn't.

"It's faster."

I averted my gaze and sank deeper into the chair, letting my head fall back against the headrest as warmth flooded my veins and the ceiling blurred and shifted above me. And then everything went soft around the edges, like looking through frosted glass.

A long exhale escaped my lips. Finally—fucking finally—the constant noise in my head, all that shit I can't shut up—the love, the hate, the fucking terror of it all—it faded to a whisper. The world got a little quieter, a little less sharp. A little more bearable.

For one perfect moment, I could actually breathe. Could almost convince myself I was in control. That this wasn't killing me. That I could walk away if I had to. That I wasn't fucking terrified of losing her. Of becoming him. Of everything.

I groaned, fingers raking through my hair, pulling, needing the pain. My hands were shaking again. Or maybe they never stopped. I couldn't tell anymore.

"You're angry," she said.

"No shit. What gave it away?" I scrubbed my hands over my face. "You showing up here after I specifically fucking told you not to? Or me nearly rearranging Zenin's face again?"

"Satoru—"

"Don't." I squeezed my eyes shut, fingers yanking at my hair again, trembling worse now. From the drugs, the rage, the fear, who the fuck knew. It all bled together these days. "You have no idea what he'd do. If something happened—" I stopped. Couldn’t continue.

"I'm not alone," she said, like that made a difference. "Maki, Yuta, Toge—they're all with me. We're being careful."

"Careful?" I sat upright, forcing myself to meet her gaze. "There's nothing fucking careful about this! It's reckless! You shouldn't even be—"

"I'm doing this for you—"

"Don't." I cut her off. "Don't make this about me."

"But it is!" She stepped closer, eyes blazing. "What, you expect me to just stand by and watch? While you fall apart?"

"This isn't your problem to fix—"

"Like hell it isn't!" Another step. Her eyes seared into mine. "I can't fucking take it anymore. You're in this mess because of me. Because you protected me that night. So don't you dare tell me this isn't my problem to fix."

I stared at her, something in my chest fracturing. "You think that's why I'm doing this? Because I feel obligated?"

"I think you're trying to protect me, like you always do."

"Then don't make me protect you all the goddamn time!" I shoved up from the chair and braced my hands on the desk. "I beat him within an inch of his life that night. I would've killed him if—" My throat closed around the words. "And I'd do it again. In a fucking heartbeat. That's what scares the shit out of me. What I become when it comes to you."

She went still.

"And if he hurt you again," the words scraped out of me, "I—I don't know what I'd do. So please. Just please don't make me find out."

I said the words I'd been turning over in my head for what felt like eternity. Don't make me find out, don't put yourself in danger, don't break my fucking heart. Which really meant break me all you want, just don't leave. I wouldn't survive it.

Her gaze dropped briefly to my hands, and she said, "You done?"

Her question threw me. Done? God, this infuriating woman. But then I followed her line of sight and saw my hands clenched into white-knuckled fists around the desk’s edge. I slowly released them, my knuckles cracking in the sudden stillness.

I slumped back into the chair, exhausted, defeated, throwing an arm over my eyes. "God, I fucking hate you." The way she stood there, unflinching, unafraid—it made me insane. "I hate that you make me feel like this—so fucking terrified all the time."

"You don't hate me," she said.

"Sometimes I'm not so sure anymore," I answered.

How does it never get easier, I wondered. Loving her. Needing her. It just cuts deeper, spreads further, until I'm drowning in the ache. Until I can't breathe without feeling it in my lungs. And yeah, I hate her for that sometimes.

I couldn't look at her. I knew she'd be there, unyielding, waiting, enduring everything I threw at her, as she always did. Never breaking. Maybe that's what I hated most.

"You're so fucking stupid," I breathed, but it came out wrong. Too soft. Too much like 'I love you'. Too much like 'Please don't leave.'

"I think that's mutual." She crossed the room then and leaned against the desk, arms folded over her chest. "I'm sorry I lied to you."

I lowered my arm and looked at her. "No, you're not."

"I am sorry for worrying you," she tried again, and I almost believed her, wishing desperately that she'd never have to worry about anything the way I worry about her. "Go ahead, say it. Tell me how stupid I was to come here. I know you're dying to."

"Why would you think that?"

She kept her eyes fixed on the floor. "Because it's true. I make the wrong choice every fucking time."

I watched her, this brilliant, stubborn woman that I love so much, beating herself up over choices that weren't really choices at all—just impossible situations with no right answers. Like there was ever a right answer. And sometimes she reminded me so much of myself. As if I hadn't spent years doing the same thing, and probably still do.

But seeing her do it—it was like staring into a mirror and seeing not just my reflection, but the reflection of everything I hated about myself.

"I think that's mutual," I echoed her words back to her.

With a heavy sigh, I pushed up from the chair, gripping the edge of the desk for a second. Then I reached for her, hands landing on her hips, tugging her close, needing her close. My lips ghosted over hers. Hesitant. Unsure. When she didn't pull away, I kissed her. My hand came up to cradle her face, thumb skimming her cheekbone as I deepened the kiss.

"Alright, what's the plan?" I murmured against her mouth.

She told me about the locked room upstairs and her plan to get it. So calm. She told it so calm. Like it was that simple. Like this wasn't the most insane thing I'd ever heard. But I knew she'd go through with it no matter what I said.

"You seriously think I'm gonna let you anywhere near him with alcohol involved?"

"No," she said. "I think you're going to help me."

"Times like this, I'm really feeling that age difference between us," I said, but we both heard the resignation in my voice. The moment I'd already lost this fight.

"So you'll help?" she asked, ignoring my comment.

Before she could celebrate her victory, I yanked her closer, fingers twisting in her hair. With a sharp tug, I forced her head back until she had no choice but to meet my gaze, her throat bared. Our eyes locked, and I saw the instant her breath hitched.

"On one condition."

"What's that?"

"When we get home, you're gonna make it up to me for all the stress you've caused. Got it?"

"Is that really how you want to play this?"

"Oh, love, I think we're way past propriety at this point."

A shiver ran through her — one that made me almost smile. I could feel her pulse racing beneath my fingertips, could feel the way she melted into me despite herself. It almost made this whole mess worth it.

"Now then." I pulled back just far enough to look her in the eye. "let's have some fun, shall we?"

─── ·✧· ───

So, here's the fun story about how I ended up playing beer pong with my arch-nemesis (besides Sukuna, that is) against my future lovely wife and some chemistry nerd who wouldn't shut up about covalent bonds. Not exactly the Saturday night I had in mind.

I mean, here I was, standing next to Naoya — yeah, the same guy whose face I'd rearranged a few months back — trying to aim at red plastic cups while you were absolutely wiping the floor with us. Turns out that whole '10 years of grief training in alcoholism over your dead father' wasn't just a cute phrase you threw around. Who would've thought?

But really, trying to out-drink an opioid addict? That's like challenging a fish to a swimming contest. Except the fish is in heavy withdrawal. So like, with no fin. Not my finest analogy. I blame the alcohol. What was my point again?

Anyway. Most annoying part? This chemistry department kid with these wide, bright eyes wouldn't stop talking to you about molecular structures. And you were actually entertaining him. At a party. About electron transfers. Of all the insufferable things.

"So if you consider the aromatic compounds—" he was saying, and I swear on my medical license, I didn't mean for the ball to hit him. And I definitely didn't mean for it to hit him that hard. Pure accident, really.

The ball bounced off his shoulder, effectively shutting him up. They both turned to look at me. "Molecular restructuring in organic compounds? Really?" I shrugged. "At a party?"

She shot me that look. You know the one. The classic 'I-can't-believe-I'm-sleeping-with-this-idiot' glare. It's become quite familiar these days.

"Trouble in paradise?" Naoya said beside me, and I briefly considered rearranging his face again. For symmetry's sake, of course.

But then she bent over to pick up the ball, and suddenly organic chemistry was the furthest thing from my mind. I definitely shouldn't have let her leave the house in that skirt. Though knowing her, she probably wore it just to torture me.

"Getting distracted, Professor?" she said, straightening up with that little smile that never fails to make me want to do wildly inappropriate things to her in very public places. She leaned across the table, deliberately tapping one of our cups with her finger, giving me her most innocent eyes. Because apparently, driving me insane was her new favorite pastime.

"Me?" I lifted the red cup she'd tapped to my lips, taking my sweet time with the drink, my eyes never leaving hers. "Never."

And somewhere in the haze of beer and the way she was looking at me, I tried to remember why the hell we were even here. Oh right—something about stealing keys. Real professional operation we've got going here. The medical board would be so proud. Their star surgeon, reduced to playing beer pong as a distraction tactic.

Naoya's keys were right there on the table, practically screaming to be grabbed. But between her legs in that skirt and the way she kept biting her lip every time she lined up a shot, I found myself giving fewer and fewer shits about saving my career and more about how quickly I could get her alone. Priorities. I clearly had them. Alcohol might have scrambled them a bit, I guess.

I caught a glimpse of Suguru standing off to the side of the beer pong table. He was pinching the bridge of his nose, his eyes darting back and forth between me and her like he was watching the world's most stressful tennis match. I really owed him one for putting up with this shit.

Near the chemistry kid, a girl approached who looked a bit like Higurama's intern—though I wasn't entirely sure. She looked different, wearing makeup and dressed up. But that couldn't be her. She'd avoid places with flashing lights because of her epilepsy. I must be seeing things.

Then Naoya, because clearly this shitshow wasn't enough of a disaster already, decided to "level up the process." He snapped his fingers at a passing bartender, and before I could process what the fuck was happening, there was a tray of perfectly lined up tequila shots on the table. Complete with cinnamon and orange slices, because apparently, we're keeping it classy while trying to get my future wife drunk.

"New rule," Naoya announced, his scarred face pulling into what I can only assume was meant to be a grin. "Next shot I sink, you drink both. Beer and tequila."

I glanced over at her, my gut churning. Not from the alcohol—it'd take a hell of a lot more than this to get me there—but from the way she met Naoya's challenge with a nod. That stubborn tilt of her chin that always meant trouble. My palms started to sweat.

Of course, Naoya's ball dropped perfectly into her cup. Because the universe really does have a sick sense of humor.

Watching her reach for both drinks, I found myself wondering what the medical board would be more pissed about — me playing drinking games with students, screwing one of my students, or the fact that I was seriously considering murder. Again.

Then, by some physics-defying miracle or sheer dumb luck, the chemistry kid actually landed a shot. He looked as shocked as the rest of us when the ball plopped into Naoya's cup. But it was her next shot that really got my attention — perfect arc, clean landing, like she'd been doing this her whole damn life.

"Drink up, Professor," she said, but there was something different in her voice.

She reached for the tequila, and then—fuck me—propped one leg up on a nearby beer crate, the motion making her skirt ride up just enough to flash a strip of skin above her tights. Wait. Those weren't tights. Those were fucking stockings.

My brain short-circuited as I realized she'd been walking around all night in stockings. Actual stockings, with what I knew had to be a garter belt hidden under that criminally short skirt. The same spot where she was now deliberately sprinkling cinnamon.

The sight of that exposed sliver of skin between stocking and skirt made my blood boil. When the hell had she even bought those? Had she worn them just for tonight, knowing they'd make me lose my goddamn mind? Was she trying to get herself killed?

Because right now, watching her purposely dust cinnamon on that band of exposed skin, I wasn't sure if I wanted to murder her or fuck her. Probably both. My mouth went dry, and it had fuck-all to do with the alcohol.

"Well?" She tilted her head, all innocence except for that knowing look in her eyes. "Coming to get your tequila?"

Like she had to ask twice. Yet I hesitated. With all these people watching? What was she playing at? It was reckless, careless, like she was deliberately trying to expose us. It was power play, a challenge. And I knew, that she knew, that I couldn't resist.

A slow smile spread across my face as I sank to one knee before her, the crowd fading into a blur of noise. All that mattered was her—the way her breath hitched as I gripped her calf, the way she tensed as she realized that I made a whole show for her (poor girl didn’t expect that now, did she?)—the feel of her skin on my tongue.

I took my sweet time with the cinnamon, letting my tongue glide over the exposed strip of flesh, feeling her shiver. My teeth grazed her skin, just enough to draw a soft gasp from her lips. If she wanted a show, I'd give her a show. And part of me wanted to shove that skirt higher, to chase that taste of salt and cinnamon further up her thigh until—

Focus. Fucking focus.

I straightened, stepping into her space. She held an orange slice in one hand, the shot glass in the other, and I couldn't help but notice how her pupils had blown wide, how her chest rose and fell just a little faster than normal.

I plucked the orange from her fingers with my teeth, my lips brushing her skin, then took the shot glass, using the movement to press closer, my mouth right by her ear, "What exactly is your plan here?"

"Create distraction," she breathed back.

God help me, but it was working. I was definitely distracted. Whole damn crowd was distracted. And watching her play this game—watching her play me—was probably the hottest and most infuriating thing I'd ever experienced. And I'm pretty sure everyone could see I was hard too.

"You're distracting the wrong audience," I whispered before knocking back the shot.

In the midst of trying to control my homicidal urges over those goddamn stockings, she caught my eye and subtly jerked her head. I turned, making it look like I was just checking something, and spotted them—Zenin, Okkotsu, and Inumaki hovering on the other side of the table behind Naoya, waiting for their chance.

Right. The keys. The whole reason we were here. I almost forgot.

The game continued, the tension building with each shot. We were down to the last round — winner takes all. That's when she decided to really test my patience.

"Let's make this more interesting," she announced, her voice carrying over the crowd. "Losers jump in the pool." A pause, then because apparently she was hell-bent on giving me a coronary. "No clothes."

"You wouldn’t dare," Naoya scoffed.

"Try me," she replied.

I shot her a warning look. She subtly chewed on her bottom lip, meeting my gaze with an unnerving calm, perhaps her way of saying everything's gonna be okay. It did little to ease the knot in my stomach.

One shot left. If she made this, Naoya and I would be stripping down for a midnight dip. If she missed—

I tried not to think about her in that pool. Tried not to think about those stockings getting soaked. Tried not to think about murdering every sorry bastard who might lay eyes on her. Either way, this woman was going to be the death of me. If I didn't kill her first.

Naoya landed his shot, fucking prick. I missed mine for obvious reasons. Chemistry kid missed too, leaving everything on her shoulders. The ball left her hand, arcing through the air in what felt like slow motion. It circled the rim, then rolled away.

The crowd went wild. Naoya's victory smirk made me want to punch his face in. I glanced over at her, wondering for a second if she'd missed on purpose. But there was no time for that.

"Well?" Naoya's voice. "I believe the losers owe us a show."

"The game wasn't exactly fair—" I started, but she cut me off.

"Isn’t this what you’ve always wanted, Naoya?" She turned to him, her words sharp. "To see me undress without having to drug me first?"

The crowd went dead silent. Naoya's scarred face contorted into something ugly. "Watch your mouth, little girl. You're not as untouchable as you think."

"And you're pathetic," she spat back, then turned away from him. "At least I get to choose when I undress, right?”

She started walking toward the pool, each step deliberate, commanding. I followed, caught between pride and sheer terror at what she was about to do. At the edge, she turned back to me.

"Don't," I pleaded, but she was already reaching for the hem of her skirt. It fell, revealing the dark lace of her stockings. Then her top followed, and I stepped closer, trying to shield her from the leering eyes.

"This is insane." But my protest died as she stood there in only black lace, and then I saw them—the bruises from the fire still painted across her waist and ribs. Dark purple and yellow marks that hadn't yet faded, cruel reminder of how close I'd come to losing her.

The sight sobered me instantly. Something twisted in my chest, sharp and painful. The bruises I'd carefully tended to, the ones that still made her wince when I changed her bandages—on full display for this crowd of drunk idiots, turned into a spectacle.

"Please," I begged, my voice barely audible. "Don't do this."

She met my gaze, and for a fleeting moment, I thought I’d reached her. But then that smile—the one that sealed my fate—touched her lips. "Sorry, Professor," she whispered, and then she was gone, falling backward into the pool, taking a piece of me with her.

The splash echoed in my ears like a gunshot, and I was already shrugging off my jacket, ready to either dive in after her or use it to cover her when she surfaced. A cold, hard fury settled in my gut. Naoya was going to pay for this.

The crowd roared as she surfaced, her hair plastered to her face, water tracing the curves of her body beneath the soaked lace. Our eyes met across the distance, me standing at the pool's edge, and I didn’t bother to hide my disappointment. Something flickered across her face—regret maybe, or shame—before she looked away.

Hell broke loose. Bodies crashed into the water, sending waves across the pool. Even Naoya stripped off his shirt and dove in, reveling in the attention. The whole party seemed to shift to the pool in a matter of seconds — clothes flying, drinks splashing, the pristine water turning into a churning mess.

Perfect distraction.

But I barely registered any of it, my world had narrowed to her. I watched as she climbed out, leaving a trail of wet footprints on the concrete, practically sprinting past me, her gaze fixed on the floor, while water dripped from her hair, her skin, the dark lace clinging to her form.

Behind her, the pool had turned into chaos — exactly what she'd planned, I realized.

I gathered her clothes from where they'd fallen and followed her inside. I caught a glimpse of Okkotsu's quick movements near the discarded clothes by the pool.

Well played.

─── ·✧· ───

Her dripping form drew curious eyes as we moved through the foyer. Each step felt like a penance—hers for the recklessness, mine for letting it happen. Heads turned, conversations died, the sudden silence punctuated only by the soft drip, drip, drip of water from her hair.

Kento’s face flashed past, but I barely registered him. No doubt he'd give me shit about it at the university later, like he didn't already know something was up with me and her.

I wrapped my jacket around her shivering shoulders, fighting the desperate urge to reach for the opioids hidden in my pocket. Withdrawal, guilt, and fury burned together in my veins, making me want to crawl out of my own skin.

I stepped in front of her, partly to block all those eyes on her, partly to hide how bad my hands were shaking. None of it was worth it. Not the keys, not avoiding my parents, none of it. How did we end up here? How did I allow things to get to this point?

Upstairs, she dressed quickly, water still dripping from her hair, leaving damp patches on her clothes.

"Are you cold?"

"I'm okay," she said, avoiding my gaze.

She was shaking. I could see the goosebumps on her arms. "You're shivering," I said and reached for her, but she pulled away.

“I’m fine, really.”

Despite her words, I pulled her close. She didn't resist this time, tilting her face up to mine. Her eyes were bright, and for a second, I thought she might cry. The world could have been watching, for all I cared. If those tears fell, it would be my undoing.

And then I thought of everything she'd done, everything she'd had to do—for me. My twenty-four-year-old student, forced to protect me from my own damn parents, to beg for my own money. Because I’d hit a guy who tried to hurt her. Why was it all so fucked up?

The high was long gone, leaving this gaping hole. My limbs felt heavy, detached, like they belonged to a stranger, unable to reach out and fix what I’d broken. And we were so far from where we started.

"You're disappointed," she finally said. She wasn't asking.

"We should leave." Because I couldn't bear to watch her sacrifice one more piece of herself for me.

"You can leave."

Before I could say anything back, Zenin came bursting into our corner, Okkotsu and Inumaki right behind her, her eyes all lit up. "That was fucking insane!" she yelled, waving something around—Naoya's keys. "But it worked! I can't believe it actually—" She stopped short, finally noticing the tension between us.

The win felt empty. Yeah, we got what we came for. But what did it cost? Looking at her, still shivering a little in my jacket, I wasn't so sure it was worth it. I was supposed to protect her. Instead, I just kept watching her throw herself in the fire for me.

Some professor I was. Some man I was.

Strange how winning can feel so much like losing, especially when you realize you're not the one paying the price.

─── ·✧· ───

I stayed outside Naoya's room, playing lookout. At least that's what I told them. Truth was, I couldn't stand being in there, couldn't bear being near her, watching her fight my battles while I was barely holding myself together.

The itch under my skin had spread, making my whole body crawl with invisible insects while she did the dirty work. Even after everything, she was still trying to save me.

And I was still letting her.

I slid down the wall, my head hitting the floor. How did we end up here? What the fuck were we doing? What the fuck was I doing?

I'm thirty-five years old, for fuck's sake. Why was I acting like a goddamn teenager? I should've stopped her, shouldn't have let her leave the house to begin with, should've been the adult. But instead, I let it happen, standing by and watching where it led. Again.

This whole situation was insane. We were in too deep, and I knew it. But I couldn't seem to find my way out, couldn't seem to stop this trainwreck we were on. It was like I was watching it all happen from outside my own body, powerless to change course.

What kind of man was I? What kind of professor? I was supposed to be her mentor, her… something more. Instead, I was dragging her down with me.

I thought back to that night, the one that started it all. The night I found her in the lab, working late, hunched over her microscope. She looked up at me with those eyes, those damn eyes that seemed to see right through me. And I was lost. I knew it was wrong. I knew I should have walked away. But I didn't. I couldn't. Drawn in. Consumed.

And now, here we were. Trapped in this fucked-up situation of our own making. I wanted to blame her, to say it was all her fault for being so reckless, so damn stubborn. But I knew that wasn't true. I let this happen. I didn’t stop it. But why?

I could replay the events in my mind, frame by frame, but the crucial moment, the point where I should have intervened, remained a blur. It was as if some part of me had wanted to see where this ended.

Music still drifted up from downstairs, the bass thumping through the walls. It felt wrong, out of place. Like we were in a different world, a fucked-up one, while everyone else was living their normal, happy lives.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block it all out, trying to pretend, just for a moment, that this wasn't happening. That we weren't here. That everything was okay. But it was happening. And I was in it, and I knew I couldn't hold my breath much longer.

My hands wouldn't stop shaking. Kept seeing things in the corners of my vision. Shadows that shouldn't move but did, faces that weren't faces at all. The wallpaper breathed. In and out. In and out. Like a lung.

Stop it. Just stop all of it. Make it stop. But it won't stop, can't stop, because she's in there right now, digging through his things, trying to save me save me save me why won't she just stop trying to save me?

Everything felt wrong, sick, twisted. Too bright and too dark all at once. My skin didn't fit right anymore. Nothing fit right anymore. God, I needed a goddamn fix.

A cough. I pressed my hand against my mouth. When I pulled it away, my palm was red.

Huh. That's new.

I stared at the blood, watching it pool in the lines of my hand. It looked wrong somehow, too dark, too thick. The longer I stared, the more it seemed to move strangely, crawling along the creases of my palm.

Was blood supposed to move like that? Like it was alive? Like it was trying to tell me something? I couldn't remember anymore. I couldn't remember a lot of things lately. The blood kept moving, kept spreading.

Maybe this was it—maybe I was finally losing whatever scraps of sanity I had left, sitting here on a dirty floor watching my own blood drip down my palm.

A part of me wondered if he'd been right all along, that I was becoming him, the very thing I’d always feared. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. I was supposed to be better, different. Not this—huddled on a filthy floor at a college party, watching my blood move as if in psychosis, while she risked everything for me. Again.

The door handle turned. Shit. I wiped my palm against the dark carpet, smearing the blood into the fibers where it vanished like it was never there. I scrambled to my feet just as they emerged. She moved quickly, shoving something beneath the waistband of her skirt. Before I could speak, she grabbed my arm.

"Let's leave." There was something like panic in her voice. "I'll tell you outside."

I gripped her hand, my own pulse quickening, and we went downstairs and pushed through the mass of drunk students. But then the music cut abruptly, plunging us into a moment of strange silence before panicked voices filled the void.

"What the hell—?" Okkotsu’s shout cut through the din from behind us.

Then I saw the flashing lights—red and blue strobing through the windows. Fuck.

"Cops!" Someone shouted, and the whole house erupted into chaos as people scrambled in every direction.

"Everyone freeze!" A voice boomed through the foyer. "Nobody moves!"

We reached the entrance as two officers shouldered their way through the front door. The bigger one looked like he benched trucks for fun, taking up almost the entire doorframe as he planted himself there.

"Listen up!" he bellowed, one meaty hand resting on his belt. "Party's over. Nobody leaves until we check IDs."

Perfect. Just fucking perfect.

I felt her tense beside me, those things hidden in her waistband might as well have been burning her skin. I could practically feel her panic.

"Look, officers." I stepped forward, forcing my voice into something professional. "There seems to be some confusion—"

"No confusion here," Truck-Bencher cut me off, the scar on his lip twisting as he frowned. "Got noise complaints, reports of underage drinking. Everyone stays put."

"I'm faculty at the university. These are my students and they're all over twenty-one. You're wasting everyone's time—"

"Nobody leaves until we say so."

"You really want to process IDs for over two hundred students?"

"You telling me how to do my job?" He shifted closer, chest puffed out despite me having two inches on him.

Withdrawal crawled beneath my skin like insects, each bite feeding the rage that built vertebra by vertebra up my spine. "Depends. Are you actually doing it, or just power tripping?"

"Back the fuck up." His hand dropped to his belt. "Last chance."

I felt her fingers digging into my arm, trying to pull me back. But the rage was a living thing now, burning away anything resembling sense or restraint. "Or what?"

The punch came fast. I dropped, and heard the sickening crack of bone against flesh—not mine. Some poor student next to me. For a heartbeat, everything stopped. Then chaos.

Bodies everywhere. Screaming. Shoving. Radio static cutting through the roar. Her hand in mine as we pushed through the surge. Her friends somewhere behind. Everything blurred. I can't remember when she let go of my hand.

I just remember the scream. Different from the others. Then her voice, "Get her on the ground!" I shoved through the mass of bodies. Saw the girl on the floor. Ice flooded my veins.

I knew that face. Higurama's intern. My patient. My responsibility.

I dropped beside her, my hands shaking so violently I could barely feel them. Her eyes rolled back. Withdrawal made everything too sharp, too bright. I couldn't think. Couldn't—

Satoru. Satoru. Satoru. Satoru. Satoru. Satoru. It was her voice. Fingers gripped my arm. "Satoru, look at me." I met her eyes. Steady. Unnerving. "Focus."

Everything snapped back into place. My phone was in my hand before I realized I'd moved. "This is Dr. Gojo from Jujutsu Medical. Twenty-six-year-old female, epileptic, pre-seizure presentation. We need immediate assistance."

My voice was mechanical, professional. Inside, my mind screamed. Why was she here? Had she been drinking? Were her meds interacting with something? I should know this. Should be better than this. Should be fucking better.

Nausea rose in my throat and I'd never felt more like a failure in my entire fucking life.

Behind us, the fight continued to rage. A man’s voice bellowed, trying to restore order. Then Suguru was there, kneeling beside her, his hands gentle as he cradled her head. He murmured something, soft and low. The tenderness in his movements caught me off guard.

"The ambulance is taking too long." His voice cut through everything. Before I could process it, he had her in his arms, head protected against his chest and moved.

─── ·✧· ───

I can't remember how we got to the hospital.

Everything blurred into fragments. Flashing lights, squealing tires, the weight of everything crushing my chest. Each breath scraped like broken glass. My hands wouldn't stop shaking until I swallowed three pills. Maybe four. I lost count.

The fluorescent lights overhead were too bright, too harsh, making my skull feel like it was splitting open. I wanted to crack my head against the wall.

Some part of me was still moving, still speaking in that detached doctor voice — rattling off medical history, medications, possible interactions. Years of training overriding the screaming in my head. But they never trained us for this.

Never trained us for how guilt tastes like acid in your throat while watching your mistakes breathe shallowly on starched white sheets.

They taught us to make clean incisions, to suture arteries, to restart hearts. But not how your own heart would seize when you recognize the face on the floor. Not how your girlfriend’s hands would be steadier than your own worthless trembling ones as you fumbled for your phone, your throat closing around the words "this is my fault", "please" and "I'm sorry."

Didn’t prepare us for withdrawal turning your hands into treacherous strangers while someone seized at your feet. For the shame that festers in your gut as you come down, struggling to remember basic fucking dosages through the need scorching through your veins.

They never warned us how love would carve you open worse than any scalpel, making you both butcher and victim, instrument and incision. Never warned us about loving someone while you’re falling apart. How it feels like drowning in open air, your chest cracked wide and your beating heart wrenched out into daylight, desperate and terrified and somehow still pumping, still fighting, still so fucking afraid.

Higurama's intern lay still now, the steady drip of the IV marking time like a metronome in the silence. I watched the gentle rise and fall of her chest, my mind replaying the medications, the dosages, searching for the mistake I must have made. There had to be one. There was always one.

Perhaps he was right about me after all. Funny how even now, even here, I could still hear his voice so clearly.

"You okay?"

She sat across from me, swallowed by my spare clothes—an old t-shirt and sweatpants that draped loosely on her frame, a blanket draped over her legs. Anything was better than those clothes from before, those fucking stockings I'd personally thrown in the trash.

"Satoru?" she tried again. "You okay?"

I couldn't bring myself to answer.

"Talk me through her meds again," she said, resting her head in her palm. Her eyes, piercing and unwavering, never left my face as she waited.

I rubbed my temples, trying to focus through the exhaustion. "Standard anticonvulsants. Levetiracetam, 500mg twice daily. Added phenytoin after the first seizure." I fell back into my chair, scrubbing my hand over my face. "She couldn't tolerate the Levetiracetam, so I switched to Topiramate, 500mg thrice daily."

She was quiet for a moment. "Side effects?"

"Minor. Tremor in her extremities sometimes, but nothing she couldn't handle. It was working." I paused. "It was supposed to be working."

"EEG results?"

"Showed mild abnormalities. Nothing that would explain a seizure this severe." I scrubbed at my face again, harder this time. "I should have seen it. Should have caught something."

"Satoru." Her voice held that gentle firmness I knew so well. "You did everything right."

"Then why did she seize?" I stood abruptly, the chair screeching against linoleum. I turned away, unable to bear her gentle gaze. Outside, dawn was breaking in shades of grey. No color, no warmth, just an endless stretch of concrete and clouded sky bleeding into each other. "If I did everything right, why is she lying here?"

"Because sometimes that's just how it goes. You know this better than anyone," she said. "Medicine isn't perfect. Neither are we."

My reflection stared back at me, ghostly and distorted in the glass. Dark circles, stubble, hair a fucking mess. A doctor coming down from a high while his patient lay in a hospital bed.

"I should have increased the dosage earlier. Run more tests. I should have—"

"Seen the future?"

"I should have been better."

"You are already the best," she said, but it felt like a lie to me. "But even the best can't control everything."

Higurama's intern stirred slightly in her sleep, and we both fell silent, the moment stretching taut between us. I dragged myself back to the chair, sinking down with my face in my hands.

"You didn't do anything wrong," she whispered, leaning forward to brush a stray strand of hair from the girl's forehead. "Sometimes life just happens, and all we can do is be there to pick up the pieces."

I wanted to believe her. God, how I wanted to. But the truth sat like stones in my stomach.

"I hate this," I whispered.

"I know."

Silence.

"Do you blame yourself?" she asked quietly.

"How can I not?"

Because it's stupid, you know this. I could feel them in my bones, the words forming on her lips before she could speak them. "How did that ever change anything?" I said before she could start.

She leaned back, the chair creaking slightly. "Do you think we are terrible people?" she asked, her voice so soft I almost missed it.

I turned to look at her then, really look at her. Even exhausted and worried, wearing my old clothes, she was still the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. Like a drug I couldn't quit, a high I'd chase until it killed me.

And what did that say about either of us? That I wanted to crack her open, crawl inside her skin and nestle myself in her marrow? Wanted to consume her, devour her, until there was nothing left but the two of us, fused together in the most depraved way possible?

It was as if we were always meant to find each other. But it was a penance, for both of us.

"I think I am what I am because of you," I finally said.

And it was the truth. She'd molded me, shaped me, just as I'd shaped her. We'd ruined each other for anyone else, stripped away the innocence and left only the filth and grit behind.

Her hand fell from her face, her eyes meeting mine. "And I am what I am because of you."

"Does that scare you?"

"I think one gets used to it."

"Yeah," I said finally, my voice rough. "I guess you do get used to it. Until you don't."

She frowned, but before she could voice something, Suguru stepped inside.

He said we should leave, and maybe that was for the better anyway, though I couldn't quite shake the feeling that there was an edge to his voice. Anger, perhaps. But I couldn't blame him. Not really.

I grabbed her things, my hand finding its familiar place at the small of her back as we headed for the door. Suguru's voice followed us down the corridor. "What did you find in Zenin's room anyway?" he asked, as if it were something to be discussed in the doorway.

I walked ahead.

I didn't need to hear again about the unconscious women on the Polaroids.

─── ·✧· ───

Too quiet.

He was never this quiet.

"How bad is it?" I asked, perched on the edge of the exam bed where the paper sheet betrayed every nervous shift of my weight with stupid crinkles. Pale morning light filtered through the blinds, casting thin stripes across the linoleum floor.

I'd coughed up blood again earlier this morning. More than last night. The metallic taste had filled my mouth before I even opened my eyes. I'd stumbled to the bathroom, careful not to wake her—she needed the rest after we spent the whole damn night at the police station.

I stared at the red running down the drain. Way more than there should be. I'd blamed it on stress and alcohol last time. But now? It meant my liver was probably failing faster than I'd thought. Coagulation system breaking down, blood vessels becoming fragile. Textbook end-stage.

I called him then. He was still at the hospital, had slept there while looking after Higurama's intern. His face had gone pale when he saw me walk in. Guess I looked as bad as I felt.

We ran tests. All of them. Blood work, chest X-rays, the works. And now here we are. I watched him reading what I assumed was my death sentence, waiting for him to finally look up, while the clock on the wall ticked away the seconds.

But he kept his eyes fixed on the test results, holding himself with the careful rigidity of someone handling explosives. Another bad sign.

"Suguru."

He exhaled slowly, finally meeting my gaze with eyes that said everything before his mouth could form the words. "You should have started treatment sooner. We talked about this months ago."

"Yeah, yeah, I know." I tried to wave off his concern. "What do the results say?"

His fingers tightened on the papers until the corners creased. "Your liver enzymes are through the roof. AST over 1000, ALT even higher. Bilirubin's climbing while albumin's dropping. Your PT/INR values—" He trailed off, shaking his head. "Your liver is failing, Satoru. Not just damaged anymore—failing."

I let the clinical terms wash over me. The doctor in me understood the implications perfectly. The addict in me wanted to laugh at the irony.

"Well," I said, forcing lightness into my tone, "guess I should have listened to you sooner, huh?"

Suguru's expression hardened. "This isn't a joke. Without immediate intervention—" He caught himself, but I could read the rest in his eyes as clearly as any lab report.

Without immediate intervention, I was dying. Fitting, really. That my body would choose to betray me just when I'd finally found something worth living for.

"How's the withdrawal going?" Suguru asked, setting down the test results.

"Managing." I ran a hand through my hair, trying to ignore how even that simple movement felt like too much effort. "Reduced the hydromorphone gradually. Down to about 5mg now."

"Satoru." His voice carried that familiar note of frustration, the one I'd heard a thousand times before. "You need to stop completely. Not reduce—stop. Your liver can't handle any more strain."

"I'm trying," I snapped, then immediately regretted the harshness. "Sorry. I know you're trying to help."

Suguru pulled up a chair, sitting down with a heavy sigh. "We need to start treatment immediately. The protocol won't be pleasant—high-dose corticosteroids, immunosuppressants, possibly plasmapheresis if things get worse."

"Sounds fun."

"It'll be brutal," he continued, ignoring my sarcasm. "The side effects alone—you'll need to be monitored constantly. Multiple blood draws daily, frequent imaging. And absolutely no narcotics—your liver won't survive it."

I absorbed this, the clinical reality of what lay ahead settling into my bones. "So basically, I get to feel like shit while you stick me with needles and watch me suffer."

"That's about right. But it's either that or start planning your funeral."

"At least you're honest." I attempted a smile that felt more like a grimace. "When do we start?"

"Tomorrow morning. I'll admit you tonight, get you set up in a private room," Suguru said, already reaching for admission forms.

"Monday morning."

He looked up sharply. "What?"

"I have a family dinner on Sunday," I shrugged. "Can't skip it."

"Are you insane?" Suguru's voice rose to fill the small room. "Your liver is failing, Satoru. This isn't something you can postpone for a damn dinner party."

"Monday morning," I repeated firmly. "I gave my word I'd be there."

"Your word won't mean much if you're dead."

"I can manage two more days."

"No, you can't." Suguru slammed the test results down with enough force to make me flinch. Since when is he always so fucking tense? "Your numbers are critical. Every hour we delay treatment increases the risk of complete liver failure."

"Monday."

"For fuck's sake, Satoru—"

"I said Monday. I need to do this, Suguru. Please."

He stared at me for a long moment, jaw clenched so tight I could hear his teeth grinding. Finally, his shoulders slumped.

"Fine. Monday morning, first thing. But if you show any signs of deterioration—any at all—I'm admitting you immediately. And no alcohol at that dinner. Not a single drop."

"Deal."

"I mean it, Satoru."

"I know," I said, trying to inject some levity into the heavy atmosphere. "You can do all sorts of things to me on Monday. Not like I have much on my schedule anyway."

"So Yaga has exempted you?"

"Temporarily relieved of my teaching duties until further notice." I tried to keep my voice light, but the words still choked me. "Apparently, licking your student's leg in public view isn't considered acceptable behavior. Who knew?"

"Everyone would have known that."

"Most people were too drunk to remember anyway, or too busy dealing with the police raid afterwards to care." I shrugged. "Silver lining?"

"This isn't funny. Do you have any idea how serious this is? Your career—"

"My career?" I almost laughed. "In case you missed the memo, my liver's failing. I think my career concerns just got bumped down the priority list."

Suguru fell silent.

"Besides," I added, "maybe it's for the best. Can't exactly teach while going through treatment, can I?"

"Yaga doesn't know about your condition?"

"No, and he's not going to. As far as he's concerned, I'm just taking some time to... reassess my professional boundaries."

"And when he asks why you're not fighting this?"

I sighed. "Let him think what he wants. I've got bigger problems right now."

"Like a family dinner you're insisting on attending despite being on death's door?"

"Exactly." I flashed him a grin, this one a little more genuine despite everything. "See? You're getting it."

"You're impossible."

"That's why you love me."

"That's why I'm going to enjoy sticking you with needles on Monday."

"Kinky."

His expression sobered, eyes searching my face. "You should tell her."

The mere mention of her sent a knife twisting in my gut. "No."

"Satoru—"

"I said no. She has enough to deal with right now. This stays between us."

Suguru shook his head but didn't argue further. He knew me too well to waste his breath.

"I will," I added softly, more to convince myself than him. "When I'm a bit better."

"This will kill her."

"I know."

Silence.

"I'm sorry," I finally managed. "For being an asshole. For everything. And... thanks for coming to the party with me."

"You already apologized."

"I mean it." I met his gaze. "You've always been there, even when I didn't deserve it."

Something shifted in his expression—a flicker of the friendship we'd shared before everything got so complicated. Before I'd dragged us both into this mess.

"Just don't die on me," he said. "I've invested too much time in keeping your stupid ass alive."

I pushed off the bed, steadying myself against the sudden dizziness that threatened to knock me over. "See you Monday."

"You're a stubborn idiot," he called after me. I didn't disagree.

I stopped at the door, turning back. "Hey, what's going on between you and Higurama's intern anyway?"

Suguru stiffened slightly. "Nothing. Just concerned since she's my patient now too."

I studied him, noting the subtle tension in his shoulders, the way his gaze shifted slightly left—his tell when he wasn't being entirely truthful.

"Sure," I said, too exhausted to push it further. "See you Monday."

As I walked away, I wondered if he knew how obvious he was. Then again, who was I to judge? I was hardly an expert at handling matters of the heart.

─── ·✧· ───

I paused outside our apartment door, my hand trembling on the handle. Withdrawal clawed through me, a living thing twisting my gut. Each breath was a struggle, my lungs constricting as if they'd forgotten their purpose. Just breathe, idiot. In, out. You're almost there.

Relief flooded through me the moment I opened the door. Her shoes were there, neatly arranged next to my scattered ones. Her coat on the hook. She was home.

Strange how that simple fact could lift the weight crushing my chest, made breathing a fraction less painful. No matter how bad things were, coming home to her felt like breaking the surface after being underwater too long.

Dog bounded up to greet me, tail whipping back and forth, before darting off toward the bedroom. Smart boy knew exactly where to find her. I kicked off my shoes, let my jacket fall where it would, and followed.

She was there, sprawled across our bed in a sea of papers, bathed in the warm light of the bedside lamp. The sight of her stole what little breath I had left. Hair messily pulled back, drowning in one of my old t-shirts, completely lost in whatever she was reading. Beautiful. It was a beauty that made my heart ache.

Without a word, I crawled onto the bed, dragging myself up until I could rest my head on her stomach. I paused, remembering the bruises on her midsection. But before I could pull back, she gently tugged me closer and I surrendered, resting my head against her warmth.

I wrapped my arms around her waist and her fingers found my hair instantly, like they belonged there, gentle strokes that made my eyes flutter closed and I thought, this was home. This was peace. Even as my body screamed for relief, even as guilt gnawed at me, here with her, I could almost believe everything would be okay.

"What are you reading?" I mumbled against her shirt, already knowing the answer. Why did she still throw herself into this project? Did it even matter anymore? But I already knew that answer too. Distraction.

"Research papers. For our project." Her fingers never stopped their magic. "Everything okay at the hospital?" I wondered for a second how she knew where I went, but then she said, "Antiseptic smell."

Did I always smell like that? Like the harsh, sterile scent of the hospital? I hated it. Hated how it seemed to cling to my skin no matter how many times I scrubbed my hands raw. Hated the way it reminded me of sickness and death.

I hugged her tighter, breathing in her familiar scent as that was so unlike the clinical smell of the hospital as I crafted the lie. Yeah, everything's fine, I told her. Had to check on something with a patient. Normal stuff, nothing to worry about. Standard procedure.

But even as I spoke, the guilt in my stomach twisted. The truth was, I wasn't sure how much longer I could keep going like this. I could feel myself slipping, losing my grip on the things that mattered most and I couldn't help but wonder if I'd even make it to the end.

If I'd be there to witness the results of our research, to stand by her side as we perhaps do something great. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to drown out the intrusive thoughts, focusing on the feel of her beneath me, the steady rise and fall of her breath.

Her fingers paused momentarily in my hair, and I knew she sensed something off. She always could read me too well. But then she resumed the gentle stroking.

"You'd tell me if something's wrong, right?"

"Of course," I whispered, another lie to add to the growing pile.

I tightened my arms around her waist, as if by holding her close enough, I could somehow make up for my betrayal. As if loving her fiercely enough could somehow balance out the pain I was about to cause her. Monday felt both too far away and not nearly far enough.

Desperate for a distraction, I asked about how it went at the police station. She said it was fine, her friends were with her as they'd needed to clarify their statements, she explained, her fingers still weaving through my hair. Everything had been too hazy right after the party.

She mentioned they needed me to verify my own statement again too. I bit back the urge to say that they'd likely have to come to my hospital bed for that. Instead, I just hummed in response. Whatever it took to make that little shit pay for what he'd done.

"He won't hurt anyone else," she added. "We'll make sure of it."

Something about her struck me as odd. How could she be so unaffected by everything that had happened? Like we didn’t just discover that Zenin Naoya was—

"You're so calm about it."

"And what would you have me do?"

I didn’t know. Maybe I should be grateful that at least one of us could keep it together.

I turned my head, pressing a kiss to her palm. I wanted to tell her how proud I was of her, how sorry I was for dragging her into this mess, how I feared the rumors that would follow her through university halls. How fucking terrified I was. How much I loved her. But it all just crowded in my throat, tangled with all the other truths I couldn't voice.

Instead, I just held her tighter. "I'm sorry," I whispered.

"For what?"

I didn't answer. Couldn't answer. Or lie again. I clung to her, as if she were the only thing keeping me from falling apart, pressing my face into her stomach, trying to blur myself into her very being. "Satoru,” she winced, a small sound escaping her lips. "You're hurting me."

"Please," I pleaded, tears pricking at my eyes. “Just… bear it for a moment. Please.” But then, a sudden tickle rose in my throat, and I sat up abruptly, he movement sending the room spinning.

"You okay?" she asked, sitting up as well, her hand cradling her side.

"Yeah," I managed, before another cough clawed its way out. I stood, turning away from her, my hand coming up to cover my mouth. When I pulled it away, blood glistened on my palm.

"Satoru? You sure you're okay?"

"Everything's fine." I curled my fingers into a fist, watching red seep between my knuckles. "Just need some water."

I should call him again. Should probably head to the hospital right now. Every logical part of my brain screamed at me to seek help, to stop this madness before it was too late.

But Sunday's dinner loomed in my mind. One last chance to fix things with her, to make things right before everything inevitably crumbled around us. Just two more days. I just needed to hold on for two more days and then I could let the chips fall where they may.

Even as blood painted the back of my throat red, I clung to that desperate hope, that foolish notion that I could make this right. I knew I was being stupid. Reckless. Playing Russian roulette with a fully loaded gun.

But then again, what did it matter anyway?

<- prev chapter | next chapter ->

author's note — welcome back, i hope this wasn't too intense, even tho i went through all stages of grief writing this chapter, but i'm quite happy with how it turned out. hope you all survived seeing things through satoru's eyes once more. writing from his perspective is always both challenging and thrilling in some strange way.

quick note, as this is somehow not obvious to some people: i understand that this story deals with controversial topics and might not be everyone’s cup of tea but this is purely fictional work, and i'm just here to enjoy a stupid little hobby. i am not looking for criticism. if the story makes you uncomfortable, feel free to block me and move on.

for those following the spin-off: yes, this chapter runs parallel to remedies and reasons chapter 04 ! if you want to see how certain events played out from a different angle, definitely check out the suguru spin-off.

and i want to thank you all for your incredible support. your comments, messages, and theories continue to blow me away. seeing how deeply you connect with this story and catch all the little details i sprinkle throughout brings me so much joy. your thoughtful analyses and wild speculations make writing this stupid story so much fun !! :''))

also a massive thank you to @/nanamis-baker who beta reads all these chaotic chapters, listens to my rambling about plot points, and talks me down whenever i'm convinced everything i write is terrible <3

& second quick note about the alcohol consumption in this story: while it's serve the narrative of the story, please remember that alcohol is toxic to the body and brain, with no "safe" amount. please be mindful of your health and wellbeing.

next chapter we'll be back to our regular pov as we deal with the aftermath of... well, all of this. until then, take care of yourselves ! and as always, thank you for joining me on this chaotic journey and being patient with my slow updates <3

ps: if you want to get notifications for future updates, you can join my taglist here !

tags — @browrm @panteramarron @starlightanyaaa

@myahfig4 @rosebluod @bloopsstuff @depressedemosantaclaus @nanamis-baker

@tofumiao @shoruio @s3vtrue @rosso-seta @bnha-free-writing

@chiyokoemilia @bonequinhagojo @janbannan @mikkmmmii @yeiena

@coeqi @faustina @glenkiller338 @yenmrtnz @buni-bunnydoll

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mortallydeepestobservation · 14 days ago

Text

Glitter, glue, I love you

Summary: You and Namjoon have been married for quite some time, your relationship having only grown since you first met as bright-eyed students back in the day. Now, you're a passionate primary school teacher, and Namjoon is an inspiring college professor, both deeply invested in shaping young minds. This holiday season, after a long day at work, you find yourselves staying late to decorate your classroom. Namjoon, ever the considerate soul, swings by to pick you up, but of course, you take advantage of the opportunity and put him to work. As you hang twinkling lights and arrange paper snowflakes, the conversation takes a meaningful turn. In the midst of the holiday madness, you talk about your future, and the idea of starting a family emerges… Best Christmas gift ever. Pairing: Namjoon x f.reader Genre: Fluff and smut. Married couple Au. Rating: explicit. Minors do not interact. Warnings: this is honestly just a fluffy slice of life drabble. Namjoon is clumsy, and whipped. Spandex? drinking. Smut warnings: soft dom Namjoon, big cock Namjoon, oral (m and f receiving) praise, multiple positions, a little overstimulation, just a smidge of breeding kink. Word count: 14k Author’s note: Okay. I know I have an ongoing story, but I do this thing, where I get overwhelmed with life and just blurt out a whole drabble. Usually in those moments the story I’m already working on drives me insane, so I… do this. sorry?😊 thank you sweet sweet @callmenoona25 for accepting my... quirk when i just drop a whole new fic on your lap out of nowhere lol. Thank you @rpwprpwprpwprw For the perfectly aesthetic joonie photos!

(fun fact, i used to know a baby chicken little. He'd always break his glasses down the middle) Merry Christmas everyone!❄️🎄

Your new crafting scissors glided against the construction paper with ease. A flurry of cut-off bits, small pieces of colourful paper, glitter, pompoms, and anything else that merely resembled a Christmas theme littered your classroom floor.

A delightful chaos surrounded you—scraps of red, green, and gold paper mingled with stray stickers, twisted up pipe cleaners, and the occasional orphaned googly eye. It was a mess, the kind only a classroom holiday crafting session could conjure, and yet here you were, adding more to it.

The new scissors, sharp and precise, were a joy to wield, effortlessly turning construction paper into stars, trees, and snowflakes. You got so absorbed in your work that the mountain of scrap paper piling up next to your desk barely registered anymore.

The room was silent now. The kiddos had left hours ago, followed by a parent-teacher conference and a staff meeting to finalize plans for the upcoming Christmas holiday party. By the time you returned to your classroom, the exhaustion was bone-deep, and the sight of the disaster awaiting you made you groan.

But as you approached your desk and spotted a few abandoned crafts—a lopsided tree, a glue-smeared snowman—a spark of creativity flickered to life. The supplies were already out, and with autumn decorations still clinging to the walls, you figured you might as well get a head start on transforming the room into a winter wonderland before the weekend.

You lost yourself in the rhythm of cutting and crafting, glueing and arranging, the silence of the empty classroom wrapping around you like a warm blanket. It was practically the only moment during the long, exhausting day when you could to sit down and just let your thoughts wonder.

You were so focused that you didn’t notice the sun setting—or the faint creak of your classroom door opening.

“Mrs. Kim, it seems my wife forgot to come home today after class.”

You froze mid-snip, the scissors poised in your hand, a half-finished snowflake dangling from your grip. The familiar voice carried a teasing warmth that made your cheeks flush before you spun around in your chair, to catch a glimpse.

Standing in the doorway was you husband, Namjoon, leaning casually against the doorframe with that playful grin you loved (or occasionally cursed for how easily it could fluster you).

His tie was loosened, sleeves rolled up, and his coat draped over one arm, a telltale sign that he’d come straight from his own long day at work. Yet his smile was bright, his tired eyes twinkling with delight upon seeing you, like he was about to tell you the best pun he ever heard.

“You know, most people would’ve taken that parent-teacher meeting as their cue to call it a day,” he teased, crossing his arms. His gaze swept over the room, taking in the colourful chaos, before settling on you.

“Well,” you started, trying to sound casual as you placed your scissors on the desk and brushed the glitter from your hands, leaning back against the chair. “After that I also had a staff meeting.”

His grin widened. “Did you cut out the staff out of paper?”

You huffed at his playful remark, picking up a pompom from the desk and tossing it in his direction. The fluffy projectile sailed weakly through the air before plopping to the floor with an overly dramatic bounce, getting lost in the multicoloured mess on the ground. “Very funny, Mr. Kim,” you said, shaking your head as you reached for your scissors to finish the snowflake.

Namjoon laughed, stepping into the room, his footsteps soft against the glitter-dusted floor. “I prefer clever over funny.”

You mused, pretending to consider his suggestion. “I’ll agree when you grab some paper and make something clever yourself.”

Namjoon chuckled, shaking his head. “No way. I’m just here to admire the handiwork—And maybe rescue my wife before she buries herself in glitter.”

“Too late for that.” You laughed, showing him the underside of your hands, covered in an array of colourful plastic bits and flecks of glitter.

He laughed too, his warmth filling the classroom as he settled into a nearby chair. He watched you with quiet amusement as you snipped away the final pieces of the snowflake.

Once done, you brushed the remains off the desk with a casual sweep of your hand, letting the scraps fall to the already messy floor. Reaching for a spool of string, you began tying a loop to hang the snowflakes.

“You know,” you said, glancing at him from the corner of your eye, “I was just thinking I could use a tall, handsome man to help me hang these from the ceiling.”

His dimples deepened slightly as his lips curled into a smirk. “Should I fetch the principal for you?”

“God, no!” you exclaimed, shooting him a mock-horrified look.

Namjoon’s laughter echoed again, and he stood, taking off his coat and draping it over the back of your chair. “Fine. Lucky for you, I happen to know a tall, handsome man who’s free to lend a hand. On one condition.”

“And that is?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as you handed him the snowflake.

“I get to take you out for dinner afterwards.”

“You hang up my décor and I don’t have to cook dinner?” you said with a grin, watching as he reached up to hang the snowflake with ease. “You’ve got yourself a deal, my love.”

Namjoon smirked as he hooked the snowflake onto the ceiling, his long fingers adjusting it so it hung perfectly. “Don’t get too excited. You’re paying, and I’m starving,” he added with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

You rolled your eyes, laughing as you handed him another snowflake. “Starving? You make it sound like you haven’t eaten all day.”

“I haven’t eaten enough,” he corrected, taking the snowflake and hanging it with the same care as the first. “Besides, all this helping is hard work. I’m burning calories just by existing in this glitter cloud.”

“Poor baby,” you teased, before standing up and stretching as much as possible, waiting for that satisfying pop that made your back come to life after sitting at your desk for hours.

While Namjoon made remarkable progress on the snowflakes, you retrieved your broom and vacuum cleaner, trying to salvage the floor and not declare war with the cleaning staff in the process.

Once it finally started looking like a classroom again—crayons arranged, glue sticks all capped and drawings proudly hung up on the walls —you fetched your seasonal décor box from the supply closet, gathering the autumn leaves and acorns as you went.

The sound of Namjoon’s soft humming filled the room as he continued to hang the rest of the snowflakes. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him, so effortlessly blending into your little world. His tall frame moving with ease as he reached up to secure another delicate snowflake.

“You’re really getting into this, aren’t you?” you teased, carefully arranging the autumn décor for storage.

“Just trying to make your life easier,” Namjoon replied, his voice warm. He stepped back to admire his work, hands on his hips like he’d just solved a complex philosophy problem.

You smiled, unrolling the fairy lights on your desk, silently thanking your teacher assistant for her knack for packing them neatly and knot-free.

“Think you can help me with this too?”

When you looked up, you noticed Namjoon standing next to the wall where your classroom photo was hung up. It was a large picture of you surrounded by your students, all laughing and holding colourful balloons.

The parents had given it to you as a gift on the first day of this school year, though it had been taken during the end-of-year celebration when your little first graders graduated.

Around the group photo, you’d carefully arranged individual pictures of each child, their names neatly written underneath and decorated with felt stickers.

Namjoon stood quietly, his eyes scanning the display with a soft smile tugging at his lips. His expression was a mix of pride and warmth, the kind that never failed to make your heart flutter.

“What’s baby Chicken Little up to?” he asked, glancing over at you, the playful nickname making you giggle.

Last year your heart had been stolen by a little boy named Minjun, who made it his yearlong mission to bring you a leaf or a flower every single day of school. His little backpack was almost as big as he was, and he’d always greet you with the brightest, most infectious smile when he walked through the door, before dropping the little plant on your desk and giving you an adorable bow.

You’d told Namjoon all about him at the end of each day, and when you proudly showed him the photo you’d snapped of Minjun on your phone, Namjoon cooed and playfully nicknamed him baby Chicken Little. All because of his “iconic green glasses,” which happened to bear an uncanny resemblance to the ones the animated character wore.

“He’s doing really well. A little genius when it comes to multiplications, although his calligraphy could use some work.”

Namjoon chuckled, his dimples making an appearance as he glanced back at Minjun’s photo. “Multiplications, huh? Guess he’s already ahead of the curve.”

You smiled fondly, scavenging through your storage boxes for the chalk markers. “He’s a sharp one. Always so curious. His mom says he’s been teaching his little sister how to count using her barbie dolls.

Namjoon’s expression softened further. “Sounds like a future teacher in the making.”

You giggle, “Only if he can pass your philosophy 101 class in college.”

“Oh, come on! You know I’m not as mean as you make me out to be.”

You raised an eyebrow, pausing your search for the chalk markers to give him a teasing look. “Not as mean? Should I remind you about that one student—what was his name? Jungkook? —who said your essay prompts were harder than his organic chemistry final?”

Namjoon groaned dramatically, running a hand through his hair. “That was one time! And he clearly didn’t read the syllabus.”

“Uh-huh,” you said, stifling a laugh as you finally found the markers, holding them up triumphantly. “I’m just saying, if Minjun wants to pass your class, he better start practicing his critical thinking skills now.”

Namjoon crossed his arms, feigning offense. “For the record, my students love me. I’m approachable, insightful, and, dare I say... inspiring.”

You watched as Namjoon gave you that challenging look, daring you to tease him further. But deep down, you knew 100% that he was right.

After all, he’d proudly told you about Jungkook— the ‘Muscle Bunny’—who, by the end of the year, would refuse to leave the classroom after lessons, just for a chance to talk with Namjoon about everything from philosophy to general life issues. (And on more than one occasion, you had to swing by the college to collect your husband, because they were both so emersed in the conversation.)

Sure, Jungkook may have started out as a bit of a tough nut, but by the end of the semester, he was one of Namjoon’s biggest fans.

You chuckled softly at the thought. Namjoon had a way of drawing people in, even the most unlikely candidates. It’s what made him such an outstanding teacher. And you couldn’t be happier that you managed to snatch him up before he even graduated with his teacher’s degree.

“I know you are.” You said honestly, watching his posture soften, his eyes almost twinkling with delight at the compliment.

Namjoon’s dimples deepened, and he turned back to look at the photos on the wall. A comforting silence falling over the classroom again as you started drawing with the chalk markers on the windows.

It was just as you were finishing the last details of the snowman that Namjoon spoke again, his voice steady but carrying a weight that immediately caught your attention.

“Do you think we’d make good parents?”

The question hung in the air, quiet and unexpected, causing you to freeze mid-stroke. Your hand suspended, the tip of the marker just inches away from the snowman’s little top hat. You hadn’t expected that. Namjoon had always been thoughtful, but this… this was something entirely different.

You turned slowly, finding him looking at you, his expression unreadable but soft. There was a quiet intensity in his eyes, as if he wasn’t sure why he asked the question, but was waiting for your answer nonetheless.

“Good parents?” you repeated, your voice quieter than usual, the weight of the question settling into your chest. It wasn’t just a casual inquiry—it felt loaded and significant. It felt like he was asking something deeper, something that might change your life in the very near future.

Namjoon seemed to notice the shift in the atmosphere, his gaze flickering to the floor for a moment before meeting your eyes again. His lips parted slightly, as if trying to find the right words, but instead, he stayed silent, letting the question linger.

You cleared your throat, your thoughts racing. Was he asking about parenting techniques? Was this a hypothetical question, or was there something more to it? You couldn’t quite tell. But the thought of it—of you and Namjoon as parents—flashed across your mind, and for a split second, you felt a warmth spread in your chest.

You’d talked about your future many times—even while you were still just dating—and you both agreed you wanted kids. But there was never a set timeline or a specific goal you wanted to reach before starting a family.

You took a slow breath, trying to gather your thoughts as the weight of the question settled in your mind. The idea of having a baby—it was something you’d talked about casually, even dreamt about in passing. But now, with his eyes on you, the conversation suddenly felt real, more tangible than it ever had before.

You finally put the chalk marker down on the desk, turning fully to face him. “You’ve asked me before about the future,” you said softly, your voice steady despite the rapid beating of your heart. “But this... this feels different. Are you asking because you’re actually thinking about it?”

Namjoon looked at you, his eyes soft but filled with a quiet intensity that made your cheeks heat up. “I mean-” he said after a beat, his voice almost uncertain. “I guess I’ve been thinking about it more lately, especially with everything we’ve built together. I don’t think we can get any more financially stable. And we’ve got a good thing, right? We work well as a team. I just... I wonder what it would be like to take that next step, with you.”

Your heart nearly exploded, a big grin spreading across your face that would certainly make your cheeks hurt if you kept it up. He had a way of making everything feel possible, of making you believe in the future even when you didn’t have all the answers. The thought of raising kids with him, of teaching them the way you both wanted to, filled you with an overwhelming sense of warmth and certainty.

“I think we’d be great,” you said, your voice full of honest affection. “We’d make an amazing team. I know we’ve got the love, the patience, and the understanding to do it.”

Namjoon’s eyes softened, and for a moment, he just looked at you, as if taking in your words, before a soft smile crept onto his face.

You knew you weren’t about to get a confirmation from him, not now at least. Namjoon needed to steep in his thoughts a bit more before he would finally and ultimately tell you he wants a baby.

Still, his smile lingered, and he slowly nodded, as if to affirm your words without needing to say anything else just yet.

The silence between you both felt comfortable, like a promise for the future—an unspoken understanding that this was a conversation that didn’t need to be rushed.

After a moment, he reached out, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his touch soft but sure.

“I love you.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, and you felt an overwhelming sense of warmth and peace settle in your chest. Even despite hearing those same exact words come out his mouth millions of times, they still wrapped around you like a protective embrace, making everything else, every worry, every unfinished plan and every glitter-littered snowflake fade into the background.

You leaned into his touch, savouring the moment. “I love you too,” you replied, your voice steady but filled with the same devotion that was in his eyes.

He placed a chaste kiss on your forehead, before glancing around the classroom, “What did you ask me to do?”

“Fairy lights, Joon.”

Namjoon chuckled softly at your reminder, his fingers still lingering on your cheek for a moment before he stepped back. “Right, right,” he said, shaking his head. “I got distracted from the important things.”

You watched him walk toward the desk to finish hanging the fairy lights, a warm smile tugging at your lips as you returned to your drawing. The weight of the earlier conversation still lingered in the air, but it left you with a spark of excitement.

As he carefully draped the lights along the chalkboard, you noticed how effortlessly he moved, how much care he put into making sure everything was perfect. You’d always admired that about him—his attention to detail, his quiet confidence in everything he did. And now, with every little task, you couldn’t help but feel a growing sense of certainty.

“Almost done,” Namjoon called out, glancing over his shoulder. You gave him a thumbs-up, your smile widening as he finished the last strand of lights.

The classroom now looked like a cozy little haven, with the soft glow of the fairy lights casting a gentle warmth over the space. Everything felt perfect.

You capped your marker once the windows were done, and walked over to your desk to organize a little bit, putting away the potentially dangerous supplies, before closing the drawers and the boxes.

Namjoon stood beside you, his hands in his pockets as he admired the room. “It’s impressive, I’ll give you that. But it’s still missing one thing.”

You frowned, stopping mid-motion, to glance around. “What’s that?”

He reached down, gently tugging you to your feet and closing the last box for you. “Us. Out of here, enjoying a well-deserved dinner.”

You couldn’t help but giggle, grabbing his coat and your bag before stepping away from the desk. Namjoon fetched your coat from the hanger, draping it over your shoulders with a soft smile. He then took your hand, a firm but gentle hold, and started guiding you toward the door, almost certain that if he didn’t, you’d find something else to do.

As you walked together, you paused by to the classroom pet cage, drawn by the soft rustling inside. The little chinchilla scamped out of his enclosure and over to the bars, his nose twitching as he looked up at you with big, hopeful eyes.

“Did I tell you we need to take Professor Fluff this Christmas break?” You asked, grabbing a treat from the nearby jar and tossing it into the cage, watching as the chinchilla eagerly snatched it up and started nibbling on it.

Namjoon, holding the door open for you, tilted his head as you walked back to him.

“Wasn’t it Teacher Assistant Park’s turn?”

“She’s pregnant, Namjoonie. She can’t.”

You slipped your hand into his, smiling as his fingers intertwined with yours, leading you down the dimly lit school halls.

“She should be able to handle a chinchilla if she expects to take care of a baby.”

You giggle, shaking your head. “No, babe, it’s about allergies.”

Namjoon sighed dramatically but couldn’t fully hide his grin. “That settle it. Definitely getting you pregnant. Even if only for the perks —wife comes home on time, and I get to have her all to myself for the holidays.”

You blushed furiously at his comment, a big, droopy smile tugging on your lips.

“Oh, come on. How much time do you think Professor Fluff is going to keep me occupied?” you tease, bumping your shoulder against him as you walk.

Namjoon raised an eyebrow, playful glint in his eyes. “With what I have planned for you, more than I like.” he replied, pulling the door shut behind him as the two of you stepped out into the crisp evening air.

You laugh, your cheeks still warm from the blush he had put there. Namjoon's teasing always had a way of making your heart flutter, but this time, there was something deeper in his words—something that felt like it carried a promise.

“I swear, you really know how to keep me on my toes,” You glanced up at him, feeling the warmth of his touch on your hand as he guided you out into the crisp evening air.

He grinned, pulling you closer to him as you made your way to the car. “That's the idea. Keep you guessing, keep you interested.” He gave you a wink, the playful glint never leaving his eyes, even as he opened the driver’s door for you.

“I don’t think you need to work too hard at it. You're already the most interesting person I know.” You said when he settled into the passengers seat.

Namjoon's smile softened, and for a moment, you could see the sincerity behind his teasing demeanour.

“I like that you think that,” he murmured, his voice quieter now, as he slowly leaned over the console to catch your lips in a sweet kiss.

You melted into him, the soft press of his lips against yours lingering for just a moment longer than usual, making your heart race. It was the type of kiss that had you coming back for more, the kind that melted all your worries away, and made you feel like you two were the only ones in the world.

As he pulled away, he gave you a playful smile, his thumb gently brushing over your cheek. “Now please drive. I’m starving.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his sudden shift in tone, your heart still fluttering from the lingering kiss.

“Always about food with you,” you sigh, starting the engine and pulling out of the parking lot. “I guess I'll just have to accept that food is your first love.”

Namjoon raised an eyebrow, his expression turning mischievous. “Well, if food's my first love, you, my dear, are my favourite dessert.”

You felt your cheeks heat up at his words, a mix of amusement and affection swirling inside you, butterflies wreaking havoc in your stomach.

You glanced over at him, trying to suppress the smile tugging at your lips. “Is that so?” You said, your voice teasing as you focused on the road.

Namjoon's grin widened; his eyes gleaming. “Absolutely. You’re sweet, irresistible, and I could spend hours between your legs.”

A flush crept up your cheeks as your grip on the steering wheel tightened, the tension between you two shifting. His words hung in the air, teasing but also carrying an edge that made your pulse quicken.

“Keep talking like that and I'm taking you home,” you threatened.

Namjoon’s expression shifted in an instant from playful to mock-serious. “No, no,” he whined, leaning back into the seat with a dramatic sigh. “I promise I'll be good.”

You giggle. “What do you want to eat then?”

He lit up again, his mock seriousness giving way to his usual enthusiasm. “That little BBQ place that opened up down the street from us.”

“The one you haven’t stopped talking about since they put up the ‘coming soon’ sign?”

“That’s the one,” he admitted unabashedly, his grin growing wider “It’s fate. They opened just in time for us to have the perfect date.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head as you turned the car toward home. “I guess it is. But I’m parking at home and we can walk—that way, I can drink too.”

“Oh, is my baby planning to get wasted tonight?” he teased, his tone light and playful.

“No,” you chuckled, glancing at him with a smirk. “But I know for a fact you’re going to order that fancy whiskey you always get, and I don’t want to be stuck as the designated driver.”

Namjoon laughed, his deep dimpled grin lighting up his face. “Fair point. That whiskey is worth the walk. And hey, I’ll carry you home if you have one too many.”

You rolled your eyes, a fond smile on your lips. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. It hasn’t been such a bad week” you smile at him, “But I won’t say no to being spoiled by you a little.”

“Always,” he replied without missing a beat. “I’ll spoil you every chance I get.”

You couldn't help but grin at his words, the warmth in his voice making your blush reappear. There was something so comforting in the way he always knew how to make you feel special, how he was so genuine in every little thing he did for you.

“So, you’re paying tonight?”

“Nope,” he smiled, popping the p, and earning a heartfelt laughter from you.

As the two of you approached your home, you turned the car into the driveway, the familiar sight of your house welcoming you. Namjoon was already getting out of the car, his excitement for the evening palpable.

“Let me grab my bag, and we’ll head out,” you said, stepping out of the car and locking it. Namjoon waited by the gate, glancing around as the evening air started to cool, a few stray little snowflakes lazily drifting through the air. The stars above twinkled in the dark sky, and the soft hum of the city around you made it feel like the world had slowed down just for the two of you.

“Ready?” he asked as you approached him, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket.

“Let’s go,” you replied with a grin, your arm slipping through his. You walked down the quiet street together, the comfortable rhythm of your steps matching each other effortlessly.

The neighbourhood was peaceful, with only a few cars passing by, and the crisp air reddening the tip of your nose. As you reached the corner of the street, the warm glow of the BBQ restaurant came into view. The scent of grilled meat and spices filled the air, making your stomach rumble in anticipation, and reminding you your last meal was breakfast, many hours ago.

“There it is,” Namjoon said, his voice full of excitement. “I’ve been dreaming of this all week.”

You laughed, the sound easy and full of affection. “It’s definitely been a long time coming, huh?”

“Worth the wait,” he replied, grinning.

As you entered the restaurant, the cozy atmosphere wrapped around you, and the delicious smells only heightened your anticipation. Namjoon gave you a playful glance, watching as you all but jump with excitement, before leading you to a little booth. You, of course, slid in next to him, and cuddled up against his side as you waited for the waiter. Namjoon grinned as you cuddled up against his side, his arm naturally wrapping around your shoulders, pulling you a little closer. The booth was small, but cozy, and the warm lighting of the restaurant made it feel like a private little nook just for the two of you.

As you settled in, your gaze drifted to the menu, although, truthfully, you were more focused on the tall and handsome man next to you. His warm presence besides you, the way he always seemed to know exactly how to make you feel safe and cared for. The man who wanted a family with you, who would undoubtedly take perfect, tender care of your little human being, and who would hang out at the museum talk hours on end about his favourite pieces with the kiddo, like they could grasp every single concept. Before, undoubtedly trying to teach your baby the deepest philosophy concepts ever, and five different musical instruments all at once.

The waiter soon approached, and Namjoon, with his usual confidence, ordered for the both of you without missing a beat. He didn’t even need to ask what you wanted—he already knew. A small smile tugged at your lips as you watched him. He always did that, always taking care of things in his own calm, capable way. It was one of the many things you loved about him.

Once the drinks arrived—a neat whiskey bottle that you couldn’t remember the name of—you clinked your glasses together in a soft toast.

“To perfect dates,” Namjoon said with a glint in his eye, his voice warm and filled with affection as he held his glass up to yours.

“To many more to come,” you replied, your voice light but sincere, the sound of it carrying a promise in the air between you.

The glass met with a soft clink, and the warmth of the whiskey settled in your chest as you took your first sip, savouring the smooth, smoky flavour. Namjoon mirrored your actions, the ice in his glass gently clinking as he took a long sip, never breaking his gaze from you.

You smiled at him, the familiar tenderness filling your heart, a slow, easy feeling of contentment settling over you. There was something special about moments like this—about sharing time in each other’s presence, just the two of you, with no outside distractions.

It reminded you of your first few dates, back when you two were both overworked students with a seriously high number of sleepless nights, and a very poor diet consisting mostly of cola and noodles. Back when he was so nervous that he basically talked to himself the whole date, stumbling over his words in a rush to make the ‘conversation flow’, but still managing to make you laugh with his awkward charm. You didn’t tease him about it back then, how could you? When he’d look at you like you could single-handedly change the world with a flutter of your eyelashes.

And when you agreed to a second date, he gave you the biggest, cheesiest smile you ever saw, before accidentally bumping into you as he leaned down to kiss your cheek, somehow managing to smack you in the face with his forehead.

You froze for a second, both of you staring at each other in stunned silence, before he apologized in a flurry and left you alone and confused in front of your dorm room.

Imagine his surprise when you called him for details about the promised second date.

Even so, there was never a moment when Namjoon ever made you feel unsafe, or like he was going out with you just to make up for his awkwardness. No, despite his nervousness, he always made sure you felt valued, cherished, and like you were the most important person in the room. That was one of the things you’d grown to love about him. He was sincere in every gesture, every word, even when he felt uncertain about himself.

That second date he got to kiss you right.

You had both come a long way since then. The clumsy first kiss was just a part of the story now, a little cherished memory that always brought a warm smile to your lips whenever you thought about it. You’d grown together since that day, and with each date, each shared moment, your bond had only deepened.

Now, here you were, sitting next from him, your husband, in this cozy little restaurant, enjoying the warmth of the whiskey and the various dishes that the waiter brought out for you.

Everything felt right. There was no doubt in your mind that this, right here, was exactly where you were meant to be.

Namjoon caught your eye, a small, playful smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You’re smiling to yourself.”

“I’m happy,” you replied simply.

Namjoon softened, his eyes filled with warmth as he leaned in slightly, his voice lowering to a more intimate tone. “Me too,” he said, his words wrapping around your heart and making it jump in your chest. You quickly leaned in and kissed the corner of his mouth, giggling a bit when he let out a soft, surprised puff, his eyes widening slightly at the unexpected gesture. “What was that for?” he asked, his voice light with amusement but still smooth .

You pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, the devotion in your gaze unwavering. “For making me happy. And for hanging the snowflakes in my classroom.” You paused for a quick second, before smirking. “And for paying for dinner?”

Namjoon chuckled, his dimpled smile lighting up his face. “Nope.”

He laughed at your fake little pout, before holding out his chopsticks to you. “Here, try this.”

You opened your mouth wide, waiting for him to feed you the piece of beef he cooked, only for it to fall from his chopsticks and right on your button-down shirt.

You both froze for a moment, staring at the little piece of beef resting on your chest. Namjoon blinked, his eyes widening in disbelief before he broke into a fit of laughter, his deep voice filling the space between you two.

“Smooth,” you teased, raising an eyebrow as you reached for the beef and popped it into your mouth, before grabbing a napkin to wipe away the mess on your shirt.

“I'm so sorry,” Namjoon said, still laughing, but his voice filled with genuine concern. “I swear I aimed for your mouth.”

You dabbed the spot on your shirt, trying to suppress your own laughter. “That’s what he said.”

At that little comment he gave you a deep belly laugh, a hand covering his mouth, before grabbing another napkin for you.

“I’ll take it to the cleaners tomorrow. I’m sorry.” He still giggled like a little kid watching you try to rub the stain away.

You couldn't help but smile, your heart warm at the small, sweet gesture. “I think it’s fine,” you said, your voice softening as you met his eyes. “It's just a shirt. But it’s the thought that counts.”

Namjoon tilted his head, his dimpled grin returning. “I’ll make it up to you,” he promised, leaning in slightly, his voice lower and softer. “I swear.”

The temptation to flirt back tugged at you, but the urge to tease him was simply too strong to resist.

“You can start by not burning the rest of the meat on the grill.”

“Shit!”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his reaction as he whipped around to check the grill. The sizzling sound of beef filled the air, and he immediately sprang into action, grabbing the tongs and flipping the steaks with exaggerated haste.

“Shit, shit!” he muttered under his breath, his hands moving quickly but still a little too late to save the edges of the tender cuts from burning.

You couldn’t help but laugh, watching the frantic yet adorable way he tried to salvage the meal. "Maybe next time, don’t get so distracted by my chest," you teased, leaning back in your chair with a sly grin

“I swear I’m a better cook when I’m not trying to impress you.” he confessed with an embarrassed smile that made your heart pick up again.

“Why are you still trying to impress me? You’re already getting in my pants tonight.” You flutter your eyelashes up at him, leaning into his side.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he muttered under his breath, focusing back on the grill with renewed determination.

You let out a laugh, unable to resist bugging him further. “Come on, Namjoonie, you don’t have to work this hard for me. I’m already sold. Burned beef and all.”

He shot you a quick look over his shoulder, his dimple making a reappearance as he smirked. “Oh, I know you’re sold. But I still have to keep my reputation intact. Can’t have you thinking you married a man who can’t even grill properly.”

You shrugged playfully. “I mean, I wasn’t exactly drawn to you for your cooking skills to begin with.”

Namjoon smirked, his eyes briefly flicking to yours with a teasing glint before he said, “Good. Then I guess my other skills will have to do now too.”

The innuendo wasn’t lost on you, and you raised an eyebrow, “Careful, Mr. Kim. You keep that up, and I’m taking you home.”

Namjoon’s laugh was loud and deep, echoing around the room as he handed you the piece of meat. “Eat first,” he said with mock seriousness, his tone firm but the amusement dancing in his eyes betrayed him. “And you’re getting dessert too.”

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, smirking “You’re just going to eat half of whatever I pick, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely,” he admitted shamelessly, his grin widening in triumph, dropping some veggies on your plate too.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress your laugh as you reached for the menu. “Fine. Let’s get the profiteroles. They look amazing, and you can’t mess up sharing that.”

Namjoon arched a brow. “Are you implying I messed up sharing earlier?”

You shot him a pointed look, lips twitching with amusement. “There’s beef on my shirt, Namjoon.”

Namjoon paused mid-grin, glancing down at your chest, before letting out a sheepish laugh. “Okay, okay, point taken. No more distractions.” He turned back to the grill, but not without throwing you a cheeky wink first. “Although, just for the record, you’re quite distracting when you wear that skirt.”

You shook your head, still smiling. “I swear, you're impossible.”

Yet there wasn’t even a crumb of conviction in your tone.

The evening carried on naturally, the warmth of the alcohol and the steady rhythm of conversation made everything feel comfortable. The intimate little interludes— the flirting, teasing, the way his eyes never strayed far from you—kept the energy between you two charged. You weren’t sure whether it was the drinks, or Namjoon’s smile, or a mix of both, but you couldn’t deny the way everything felt amplified. You were tipsy, needy, and feeling more than a little flushed.

Namjoon noticed it before you did, that little shift in the air around you. He leaned in, a mischievous gleam in his eyes as he casually placed his hand over thigh. “You’re looking a little red,” he remarked softly, his fingers brushing against your skin in a way that made a shiver run down your spine.

You tried to laugh it off, shifting slightly in your seat. “I think I might’ve had a bit too much to drink.”

“Mm, I noticed,” he said, his voice smooth, low. He didn’t pull his hand away, but instead gave your leg a gentle squeeze, before moving his hand higher up edging the seam of your skirt, “You look adorable though.”

A soft heat spread through you, making your heart beat in a way that had nothing to do with the alcohol. There was something in his gaze—something undeniably intense—that made the air between you feel thick. Like you could just eat him up, and he’d thank you.

“Do I need to carry you home?”

“No.” You swallowed, shifting your eyes away. “But you should stop looking at me like that. You’re making me blush.” You replied, trying to play it off, but your words felt like they were slipping from your lips a little too easily. You could feel his gaze on you, assessing, as if he knew exactly what you were trying to hide.

Namjoon’s gaze softened, and the corner of his mouth quirked up as he leaned in a fraction closer. His thumb gently stroked your skin, the simple touch sending a spark of heat straight to your core. “Am I?” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that made your stomach twist in the most wonderful of ways.

You tried to steady your breath, but it felt impossible under the weight of his attention. “Yes.”

“Good,” he smirked.

“Namjoon,” you breathed, not sure whether it was a plea or a warning.

The playful banter felt more like a slow burn now, the kind that lingered in the spaces between your words and between your slowed movements.

“Mm?”

“Please get the tab, so I can pay and we can go.”

Namjoon’s lips curled, his fingers still moving in a slow, deliberate rhythm.

“Impatient, baby?” He murmured, his voice deeper now, like he was savouring the effect he was having on you.

You nodded, the growing need clouding your thoughts. “Yes,” you whispered, barely audible. “I want to go home.”

He leaned in slightly, his face just inches from yours, and for a moment, everything else seemed to blur out of existence. His breath was warm against your skin, and the weight of his gaze made you feel both exposed and electrified. It didn’t even register that you were out in public anymore, or that there were other patrons around. The only thing on your mind was his dark eyes staring at you.

“Alright,” he said, his voice low and steady, his smirk never wavering. “But only because you asked so nicely.”

He slid his hand off your leg, but not without one last lingering touch—soft, deliberate, and devastating—leaving you absolutely wrecked as he leaned back to call the waiter.

(Of course, he didn’t even let you see the tab, snatching it up and paying for your meal without a second thought.)

Every movement of his was slow, measured, like he knew exactly where your limit was and he was drawing it all out with maddening precision. The air between you thickened with unspoken tension, humming in the spaces where his fingers lingered, where his gaze met yours.

And when he brushed your hair to the side to help you slip into your coat, his hand found the back of your neck, resting there for just a second longer than necessary—firm and warm, enough to leave your heart pounding and your mind spinning.

The moment the door of the restaurant swung open, a gust of cold air hit you, the crisp night biting at your skin. The alcohol in your blood dulled slightly, replaced by the clarity of the chill as you instinctively pulled your coat tighter around you. Yet, the thin fabric did little to shield you from the cold, the breeze slipping through the seams.

Namjoon was right beside you, his sharp eyes scanning the darkened street as if the cold didn’t faze him at all. With a glance your way, he stepped closer, shrugging his own coat higher on his shoulders before slipping his arm around you without hesitation. His hand rested lightly on your back, the weight of it both grounding and comforting.

His warmth beside you was enough to make the walk more bearable, and the anticipation bubbling inside you made it all worthwhile.

He turned to you, a slight smile on his lips. “Cold out here, huh?” he said, his breath visible in the night air, quickly leading you towards your home.

You nodded, pulling your scarf up a little higher to shield your face from the cold.

Without a word, Namjoon slid his arm around your shoulders, tucking you closer to his side. His touch was casual yet deliberate, like he didn’t need permission but still silently asked for it. The fabric of his coat was rough against your cheek, but his body heat bled through, chasing away the chill that had started to seep into your skin.

The street was quiet, the glow of streetlights casting long, soft shadows as you walked side by side. Those shy snowflakes from earlier now growing bolder, swirling down in earnest. They clung to your hair and coat, melting into tiny droplets against the warmth of your skin.

Namjoon’s hand shifted after a while, slipping down to find yours. Without hesitation, he slid both into the pocket of his coat, the gesture so natural and intimate that it made your stomach flutter anew. His thumb brushed over your knuckles absently, a small but steady movement that set your heart racing. Each step brought you closer together, your shoulders brushing now and then, as you neared your house.

His presence, the solid warmth of him beside you, was more than enough to keep the chill at bay.

“You okay?” he asked softly, his voice cutting through the crisp night air as he glanced over at you.

You nodded, your breath forming soft clouds in the cold. “Yeah. This is nice.”

Namjoon chuckled. “Nice? You’re freezing.”

“You’re hot.” The words tumbled out before you could stop them, accompanied by a fit of giggles that felt almost too loud in the still night. The alcohol still hummed faintly in your system, loosening your tongue, but it was worth it just to see Namjoon stutter, his eyebrows raising.

And then he laughed, full and rich, the sound reverberating through you. “Wow,” he murmured, shaking his head with an amused smile. His cheeks tinged pink—maybe from the cold, maybe not—as he reached into his other pocket, pulling out his set of keys.

“Smooth,” he teased, glancing sideways at you as he fiddled with them, making quick work of finding the right one. The lock clicked open, and he stepped aside to let you in first, the warmth of the indoors beckoning you like a sanctuary.

As you passed, he caught your arm gently, his fingers brushing along its length. His eyes met yours, a daring glint in them that suddenly made your heart pick up again.

It wouldn’t be the first time Namjoon pins you to the first flat surface as soon as you walked through the door, fucking every single sensible though out of your brain, and that idea sends a tingle of excitement coursing through your body. You smile up at him, leaning further into his touch.

But Namjoon is undeterred.

“Don’t make snow all over the place. I mopped yesterday.”

You tilted your head, a little indignant puff escaping your lips before you smirk, toeing off your snowy boots by the door. “You’re so sexy when you do chores.” You push your luck further, but your lovely husband can’t seem to pick up on it.

“That’s it. No more drinks for you.”

“Mm, you love it,” you teased, stepping past him into the warmth of the hallway.

The cozy embrace of the house wrapped around you, softening the crisp chill that clung to your skin, inviting that sense of ease that only your home could bring. You made quick work of shedding your coat and boots, setting them neatly by the door before stretching your arms high above your head, a little moan escaping your lips as the tension of the day melted away.

Namjoon glanced over just in time to catch your little display, his eyes flickering with amusement—and something else. “Comfortable already?” he shrugged off his own coat and tossing it over a chair.

“Very,” you replied with a content sigh. Without much thought, you made your way to the living room and plopped down on the couch, curling up against the soft cushions.

Namjoon followed behind, shaking the snow from his hair before taking his seat right next to you. His long body settled into the couch with easy grace, his head leaning back against the cushions, eyes lazily studying you as you sink further into the couch.

The warmth of the room wrapped around you like a cozy blanket, combining perfectly with the comfortable silence that filled the air. You could feel the weight of the night slip away.

The alcohol was still buzzing lightly through your veins, making you feel a little lighter, more complacent.

Namjoon shifted slightly, his arm brushing against yours as his hand found its way to your thigh, his fingers resting there with an easy familiarity. The warmth of his palm seeped through the fabric of your skirt, and when he shifted again, his touch grew bolder, fingers tracing slow circles just above your knee.

The small touch made your heart pickup again, and you looked up at him, catching the softness in his expression as he glanced back at you.

“So tired,” he confessed, almost like it was a secret. The day had been long for both of you, and you had no doubt the holiday season weighed just as heavily on him. Sure, yours was filled with glittering snowflakes and loud kids singing out of tune Christmas carols, while his likely consisted of conference calls, paper grading and presentations, but fatigue didn’t discriminate.

Still, there was something about the evening, the silence between you two, that made it all feel worthwhile. The day was over, but the night had a way of stretching on, leaving just enough space for small moments like this. Because with Namjoon, there was always something that made the world feel quieter, easier. Like he was grounding you, helping you recharge in a way no one else could.

“Mm-hmm,” you hummed in response, your voice a little dreamy as you let your head fall to the side, leaning against his shoulder.

“You look tired too,” he said softly, his voice laced with tenderness, still his hand shifted to the inside of your thigh, fingers massaging your skin softly.

“I am,” you admitted with a small sigh, your body naturally melting into his touch as the knots in your muscles began to dissolve.

Yet, even as your body relaxed, a spark flickered deep in your belly—undeniable and growing—kindled by the deliberate care in his movements, each touch purposeful and impossible to ignore.

“But I’m also horny,” you tack on after a few seconds, your voice a little breathy, your eyes flicking up to meet his, watching for his reaction.

Namjoon’s hand stilled for a moment, the weight of your words sinking in. His gaze dropped briefly to where his fingers rested against your leg, then lifted to meet your eyes. His smile turned slow, deliberate, and his voice dropped an octave when he finally responded.

“Is my baby needy?”

You nodded slowly, feeling completely vulnerable under his deliberate admiration “Yeah,” you whispered, the word falling form your lips like a confession. “I want you.”

“You’re sure?” he asked, as if testing the waters, giving you a chance to pull back if you wanted to. But the way his eyes locked onto yours, the way his touch lingered now a little longer, a little rougher, said he wasn’t going anywhere unless you wanted him to.

Instead of answering, you shifted, turning around to straddle his hips, tugging your skirt higher in the process so you could sit comfortably on his lap.

“Always,” you muttered, your voice a breathy promise before closing the gap between you. You pressed your lips to his with fervour, cutting off the teasing words he was no doubt ready to deliver, swallowing them whole.

Namjoon’s hands quickly went to your ass, pulling you impossibly closer, and you giggled when he squeezed at your flesh, then shifted like he sensed something unusual.

“What are you wearing?” Namjoon murmured against your mouth, his breath warm and pleasant. The low timbre of his voice made you giggle, the vibration of your laughter mingling with the tickle of his breath.

“Spandex,” you replied with a grin. “How do you think my butt looks so good in this skirt?” With a playful movement, you lifted the hem of your skirt just enough to show him. The spandex hugged your curves perfectly, a sly smirk plastered on your face.

Namjoon chuckled softly, his fingers brushing over the edge of the spandex before his hand returned to its frisky grip on your ass. His gaze lingered, warm and unguarded, as if memorizing every curve.

“Sexy,” he concluded. His other hand grabbing the edge of your shorts and letting it slap against your skin; the gesture drawing another burst of giggles from you.

“The sexiest,” you replied, your laughter dissolving into a grin as you shook your head. With an easy motion, you dropped your head onto his shoulder, muffling your laughter against his shirt.

It was ridiculous, you knew that—the whole moment—but there was something about the way he looked at you that made your heart swell. Like he found you beautiful even in the silliness, even in spandex.

You remained like that for a moment, enveloped in the comfort of his presence, the steady rhythm of his breathing syncing with your own. His hands continued their gentle kneading of your flesh, and you shifted your hips, pressing closer, feeling his hardness through your clothes.

Namjoon let out a soft huff, and you lifted your head to meet his eyes, an impish glint in your own. With a wicked smile, you began moving your hips in slow, deliberate circles, grinding against him, enjoying the way he hardens beneath you. His hands tightened, pulling you closer, a soft moan escaping his lips as he let his head fall back against the couch.

“Ah, babe-” His voice was strained, thick with desire, the heat between you intensifying, his hips buckling up slightly.

Your hands wander up his chest, feeling the muscles tense and relax beneath his shirt. You can feel his heart racing, matching your own as you lose yourself in the rhythm you’d set. With a bit of fumbling, you managed to unbutton his shirt, watching as he shivered under the touch of your cold fingers as you chart his toned muscles.

“Fuck. Kiss me please,” he breathed out, his voice rough and needy.

Your mouth hovered just few inches away from his, the warmth of his wrapping around you like a cocoon. Close enough to count the moles and freckles that dotted his skin, to take in the slight stubble along his jaw. His breath mingled with yours, teasing your lips.

Your gaze flickered down, lingering on his mouth for just a moment longer.

And then, you didn’t hesitate. Leaning in, your lips find his in a fervent kiss. His mouth moved with yours, tongues tangling as you explored him, your hands roaming the expanse of his now exposed chest. The kiss was all-consuming, filled with the passion that had been simmering between you since he stepped into your classroom earlier today.

Namjoon's hands are not idle either. They roam up your thighs, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin, making you shiver. You can feel his arousal pressing against your core, and you grind against him, eliciting a low moan from him.

“You feel incredible,” he murmurs against your lips, his hands squeezing your thighs. “I want you so bad.”

His words send another wave of heat through you, and you deepen the kiss, your hands tangling in his hair. You can feel the tension building between you, your own arousal growing with every passing moment.

With a reluctant movement, you pull away to stand up, your skirt falling back down to your thighs as you stare down at him. Namjoon looks up at you, his eyes dark with desire, and you can't help but feel a thrill of excitement as you slowly, deliberately, begin to undress for him.

Pulling your button down over your head, you let it fall at his feet, watching the way his eyes barely flicker to it. Instead, Namjoon watches you, his breath quickening as you reveal more and more of your body to him.

You slip out of your skirt, tossing it aside as you stand before him in nothing but your spandex shorts and a lacy bra. His eyes rake over you, taking in every inch of your body with a hungry gaze.

“God, you're beautiful,” he breathes, his voice thick with longing, watching you kneel between his legs on the floor, your hands quickly moving to his belt to unbuckle it.

You take your time with it, savouring the way his breath hitches as you brush your fingers against his hardness. Once the belt is undone, you unbutton his pants and pull them down, taking his boxers with them. Namjoon lifts his hips to help, his gaze never leaving yours.

Now that he's fully exposed, you can't help but admire him; He's always been handsome, but in this moment, with desire burning in his eyes and his body tense with need, his unbuttoned shirt still clinging to his shoulders, he was downright irresistible.

You reach out, wrapping your hand around his cock, hard and ready, resting against his stomach, and he hisses in a deep breath, melting under your touch.

“Fuck.” His head falls back against the couch pillows, breaking eye contact once you wrap your lips against his him, running your tongue over his leaking tip, swirling it and dipping it into the slit, enjoying the lewd sounds that escaped from his chest without abandon.

Emboldened, you keep taking him deeper in your mouth, hollowing your cheeks and finding a steady rhythm that has him unravelling quickly. Your tongue rolling over his head every time you come back up.

Your hand starts working the part you can’t reach mirroring the rhythm you've set with your mouth, unleashing a flood of moans from him.

Namjoon’s hips buck, accidentally bumping the back of your throat, making you gag, and a quick, weak apology falls from his lips, although you feel like he doesn’t truly mean it, because he does it again right after.

But you barely care, because his taut stomach clenches, showcasing his pretty abs, and the long, low sound he makes sends a new wave of wetness between your legs, urging you on. You were the one making him weak. You were pleasuring him in such a way that made him lose himself.

“Just like that, love.” He reaches out, his fingers tangling in your hair, not tugging at it, but guiding your movements, fucking your mouth. You keep up with him, your lips now redden, tongue rolling on the underside, and your chin covered in spit as you bob faster.

The room is filled with the wet vulgar sounds your mouth makes and his low groans, the air thick with desire and anticipation.

“Fuck. Babe, stop.” He whimpers, tugging at your hair. “I’m close. Don’t want to cum-”

Suddenly, Namjoon pulls you away, holding you just out of reach as his head falls back against the couch, a long miserable “Fuuuuuck,” filling the space between you, as if he’d just received the worst news ever.

You blink up at him, your mind scrambling to understand his sudden outburst. His gaze meets yours again, and the regret swimming in his eyes deepens your confusion.

“Fuck. I knew I forgot something.” He groaned, voice thick with frustration, his fingers releasing their hold on your hair.

Your hand stilled mid-movement, your head tilting slightly as you tried to make sense of his words.

“You… can’t get blowjobs?” you asked cautiously, your knees wobbling as you stood up, bracing yourself against his legs for stability.

“What? No,” he blurted, his brows furrowing in indignation. “I forgot to go to the store. We’re out of condoms.”

Namjoon looked utterly defeated, his hands reaching out instinctively to steady you. Yet, there was something almost comical in the way his lips formed the smallest of pouts.

You bit down hard on the wicked grin threatening to spread across your face. He was adorable—even now, red hard cock pulsing against his chiselled thighs, neck flushed red, chest rising and falling rapidly as his mind raced. Likely scolding himself for forgetting something so crucial.

You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped your lips, and again, you bury your face into his shoulder, leaning into him to press a kiss against his neck, drawing his gaze back to you. His thumbs began rubbing slow circles against your hips, grounding both of you as you whispered softly into his ear, “We could always go without.”

Namjoon froze. The suggestion sent a visible shiver through him, and his eyes widening slightly.

For a moment, the room was silent save for the soft hum of the heater in the background, the suggestion hanging in the air between you like a loaded secret. His hands, still resting on your hips, tightened slightly as he stared at you, trying to gauge how serious you were—or how far he could let himself go without losing control.

“Are you serious?” his voice came out broken despite his best efforts, and you lean back to look at his face, your hands holding onto his shoulders.

“It would make a nice Christmas gift.” You admit, almost bashful, but maintaining eye contact.

“You’re not just saying that, are you?” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. The playful tension had melted away, replaced by something heavier, more profound.

You nodded slowly, your heart pounding in your chest. “Of course, not” you said softly, your voice trembling just a little. “I want that too. I want a family with you.”

His hand moved to your lower back, pulling you closer, as if he couldn’t quite get enough of you.

Namjoon let out a soft, shaky breath, his forehead pressing lightly against yours. For a moment, he said nothing, his eyes closing as if to let your words sink in fully. When he opened them again, his gaze was filled with a depth of emotion that made your heart feel like it might burst.

“I really fucking love you.” He murmured, his hands settling more firmly on your hips, pulling you closer until there was barely any space left between you.

Your lips quirked into a small smile, your hands moving to cradle his face. “You better,” you whispered back. “I’m your wife, after all.”

Without warning, his arms tightened around you, and in one smooth motion, he stood up, lifting you effortlessly into his embrace.

You let out a startled gasp, your hands clutching his shoulders for balance.

“Namjoon!”

But he only laughed at your reaction, the sound of it lighting up his features as he carried you down the hallway with ease. His fingers pressed gently into your skin, steadying you, and even despite your mock annoyance, your heart still fluttered at the way he held you—like you were the most precious thing in the world.

“Don’t think being my wife means you can get away with teasing me like that,” he murmured. His steps were steady, purposeful, the warm glow of the bedroom lights spilling out into the hallway as he nudged the door open with his foot.

You grinned, brushing a soft kiss against his jaw. “Actually, I think it means exactly that.”

He shook his head, his lips curving into a smirk as he laid you down gently on the bed, his hands lingering as if reluctant to let you go, while your legs remained wrapped around his hips, his hard cock pressing against your thigh. His gaze roamed over you, warm and full of affection, but the spark of desire in his eyes was impossible to miss.

“You’re impossible,” he said, his voice low and teasing as he leaned over you, bracing himself with one arm while the other trailed down your side, sending a delicious shiver through you.

“You love it,” you replied, your tone just as playful as you tugged him closer.

Namjoon hummed, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that started sweet but quickly deepened, every touch and movement making you feel lighter, like you were floating.

His soft lips were moving yours and controlling the kiss, and you melted in his arms, letting him do anything he wanted. He pushed your lips open, and you willingly allowed his tongue to explore every inch of your mouth, moaning against him when he hooked it around your lip to softly bite on it.

His movements were slow and deliberate, as if savouring every second of the connection between you two. Your hands dropped down to his shoulders to push away his shirt, letting it fall off somewhere, and in response, Namjoon pressed against you further, pushing you into the mattress.

You can feel the weight of his body on you, every inch of him pressed against your curves, and you revel in the sensation, though it does very little to soothe the burning ache spreading through you. You try to arch your back, try to make your hips meet, desperate to feel more of him, but Namjoon keeps you pinned down. Your heart hammers against your ribcage, and you're lightheaded from the kiss, each one of his lingering touches drawing you deeper.

His hands move with purpose, gliding down your arm and leaving a path of goosebumps in their wake. Each touch feels purposeful, yet it only strokes the fire within you, the tension between you building with every measured caress.

Namjoon shifts, his lips abandoning yours to travel along your jaw and neck. Soft and warm, they graze your skin, leaving a searing path of heat that makes your breath hitch with every press of his mouth.

The faint scent of his cologne mixed with the warmth of his breath on your neck made your head spin, the room narrowing to just the two of you.

You gasp when he nips at your neck, his lips a welcome contrast to the sting of his teeth. His hips rock against yours, and you moan at the feeling, even if it's just his length pressing against you, but at this point, you’d take anything to ease the lustful haze that clouded your mind.

“Joonie,” you whimper squeezing your thighs around his hips, “Please.”

You fought to keep your breathing steady, but it was a losing battle.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he whispered against your skin, his voice soft like caramel, dripping with longing, his hands still caressing the sides of your body, stopping over your breasts, teasing your nipples through the lacy fabric of your bra.

You mewl, arching instinctively towards his touch. “Then show me,” you whispered back, your voice hushed, sounding so needy that you barely recognise it as your own.

His eyes shift to your face for a quick second, a big teasing smirk tugging on his lips.

“Mmm, I will.” He replies casually, before pinching your nipples through your bra. A little whimper falls from your lips as a jolt of pleasure shoots through you.

He tugs your bra down, letting your tits spill out, and with an almost primal movement, he takes a nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it while his hand continues to tease and pinch the other one. You gasp, throwing your head back, letting out soft moans as your fingers weave themselves into his hair, pulling him closer.

“God, you’re so hot,” he breaths against your chest, goosebumps erupting across your skin, before switching his attention to your other nipple.

You look down at him, your eyes heavy-lidded with desire. His hands slide down your body and you feel his fingers hook around the waistband of your spandex shorts, tugging them down your legs, leaving you completely bare and vulnerable before him.

He lifts his head from your breast, his lips red and slightly swollen, his gaze sweeping over you with an intensity that makes your breath catch. You feel a flicker of shyness wash over you, an instinctive reaction under his steady, adoring eyes. It isn’t that Namjoon ever made you feel uncomfortable—far from it. If anything, he had taught you more about how to love yourself than anyone else ever had.

But still, those small insecurities lingered, faint whispers at the back of your mind. The little things only you noticed, the things you thought didn’t measure up. You tried to push them away, focusing instead on the warmth in Namjoon’s gaze, the way his touch seemed to erase every doubt and hesitation.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice soft but brimming with conviction, like he couldn’t hold the words back even if he tried. His eyes traced every curve and detail, lingering as if memorizing you all over again. “Fuck, you’re going to kill me,” he whispered, the words tinged with awe before he leaned down to place slow, deliberate kisses along your ribs.

A shaky moan slipped from your lips, a sound of your clear frustration as his seemingly endless patience began to test your resolve. He chuckled softly against your hip, the vibration of it sending a wave of heat through you.

“Namjoon,” you breathed, your voice teetering on a plea, your fingers threading through his hair to tug gently.

His lips paused their trail, his gaze lifting to meet yours, mischief and adoration mingling in his dark eyes. “What is it, love?”

“Stop teasing,” you demanded, your tone shaky but resolute. “I swear to god-” but before you could finish your threat, Namjoon’s fingers swipe across your pussy, rendering you absolutely speechless.

“Holy fucking shit.” Namjoon breathed, the disbelief in his voice almost comical as his wide eyes flickered from your face to your cunt. “You’re dripping wet.” His fingers parted your lips, pulling them apart so he could see better. “Is the idea of me knocking you up turning you on this much?” His other hand joined in, both of them exploring your wetness, spreading it around. “Fuck.” He muttered, his fingers positioning at your entrance, sliding in and out of you easily.

You couldn't help but moan, your back arching as you pressed yourself into his touch. “Namjoon,” you sob, your voice filled with longing. “Please, just fuck me.”

“I will. I will,” he mumbles, moving lower to settle between your legs, spreading your thighs further apart, “After I get a taste.” He tacks on, quite proud of himself.

You couldn’t help but huff in frustration and desire as you felt his breath against your slick folds, ready to complain. But before you could get the words out, Namjoon quickly shuts you up, his mouth on you.

“Be good.” He warns, his tone firm but gentle, voice muffled against your pussy. As the words left his lips, his tongue darted out, tracing a line from your entrance all the way to your clit and then back down, causing you to shiver in pleasure. His grip on your thighs tightened, holding you open for him as he explored every inch of you, his fingers moving in tandem with his lips.

“Joon,” you whimpered, your fingers tightening in his hair as you tried to control the rhythm, your hips trashing against his face. He chuckled against your skin, the vibrations sending another wave of heat through you, but his patience never wavered, even as your breaths became shorter and your whimpers turned into moans.

He slurped loudly, pressing his face in hard as he moved his lips and tongue expertly. You couldn’t help throwing your head back and moaning, the movement completely involuntary to you. His head moved around as he devoured you like a starving man, moaning to himself as he worked, his tongue lapping at your wetness, before coming back up to your clit and sucking hard, driving you crazy with the way his fingers moved and arched against your sweet spot.

“Namjoon!” Your eyes closed and you bit your lip, trying to muffle your moans, feeling the way his tongue swirled around your opening and licked up your wetness like he was savouring every drop of you.

He was worshipping you, consuming you like he’d been starving for you, growling whenever you pulled his hair too hard or moaned for him in a way he liked. Your back arched and you let yourself close your eyes, unable to stop yourself as your loud moans turned into gibberish, raising in pitch as he brought you right up to the edge.

His name was falling from your lips like a prayer, your hips bucking, thighs trembling and stomach clenched. You felt like you were about to explode, but he didn’t let up, not until you were unravelling against his touch. Your orgasm was so sudden, so violent and unexpected that you didn’t even get a chance to warn him, wave after wave of staggering pleasure washing over you, rendering you an absolute useless mess in his grasp.

Namjoon didn't miss a beat, continuing his assault on your pussy as you came hard around him. Your muscles quivered and pulsed, and he groaned, the sound reverberating through you and adding to the intense pleasure crashing through your veins. And he didn't stop, his tongue and fingers working in tandem to wring every last ounce of pleasure from your body, his fingers pushing your release in his mouth.

As you slowly came down from your high, Namjoon gently kissed your inner thighs, his lips warm and soft against your sensitive skin. You could feel his proud smile against you, and you couldn't even find the energy to glare at him.

It wasn't until your breaths evened out and your body went limp that you finally managed to push him away, a satisfied smirk playing at his lips when he looked up at you.

“Feeling better, baby?” he asked, his voice twinged with amusement, although a little breathless.

You couldn't be bothered to reply, your body still trembling with the aftershocks of your orgasm. But you managed a small, satisfied smile, your eyes closed in contentment.

“I told you I would take care of you,” he murmured, his lips brushing softly against your hip. At that you chuckled, the sound light and airless, the remnants of pleasure still humming through your body like an electric current.

Namjoon began a slow ascend, pressing soft kisses against your skin as he went, each one making your breath hitch just a little more. When he finally reached your lips, his gaze was heavy with intent. He kissed you deeply, and the moment you tasted yourself on his tongue, a wave of heat crashed over you.

Your lips parted instinctively, drawing his tongue deeper as you sucked on it, the sensation unravelling something primal in your mind. A soft, desperate moan escaped against his mouth, your hands fisting into his hair as you clung to him, utterly consumed by him, by his mouth, by his hands against your hips. By Namjoon. Your husband.

“Ready for me to fuck you now, my love?” he asked, his voice low, a whisper against your lips, but one that sent a new wave of wetness to your core.

You were too fucked out to form a coherent sentence, so your let your hand drop to hips and pull him closer, eager for him to take you.

You could feel his hard cock press against your entrance, and you couldn’t resist the temptation to glance down and watch as he positioned himself at your opening. A low moan falling from your lips as you waited for him to thrust inside you.

But instead, Namjoon teases you further, swiping his cock against your wet folds, driving you wild.

“C’mon love, don’t leave me hanging. Say something.” He chuckles, watching your expression carefully as he pushes the head of his cock against your clit, circling it.

That completely makes you snap, a flurry of uncoherent begging and threatening falling from your lips, filling the little space between your heavy breathing and his low chuckles.

“Please, please, please Namjoonie. Fuck me. Get me pregnant. God! Move! You always do this,” your head falls back against the pillow, tears prickling at the inside of your eyes, your fingernails digging in his skin. “Knock me up, please. Just fuck me. I’ll delete your homework gradings if you don’t.”

He bets you have almost no idea what you were spewing, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to care. Not when his heart swelled with love and desire at your words. He couldn’t resist you any longer. He presses the head of his cock against your entrance, teasing you just for a second longer, before he finally pushes inside, agonizingly slow.

You gasp, your body trembling in his arms, feeling him fill you all the way to the brim. The feeling of him bare inside you, the warmth and the intimacy of it, is almost too much to bear. You can feel every inch of him, every ridge and vein. You feel every movement and every thrust as if it's the first time all over again. The sensation is so intense, so overwhelming, that you can't help but let out a series of weak, trembling moans every time he moves inside you.

“Holy fucking shit, you feel so fucking good.” Namjoon whimpered, his hips slapping against you, pulling almost all the way out before filling you up again, “Fuck, you're so tight. I can feel every inch of you, gripping me, love.”

The sound of your skin slapping fills the bedroom with his steady thrusts, punctuated by the occasional slap of his balls against your ass. You gasp, your orgasm building deep inside you. You can feel it coiling in your belly, ready to explode at any moment.

“Yes, yes, just like that, baby,” you moan, your hips moving in time with his.

“Shit love, look at that.” Namjoon presses a hand hard against your lower stomach, “Can you feel it?” he asked, his voice hoarse with desire. “Can you feel how deep I'm inside you, how close I am to filling you up?”

His words sent another wave of heat crashing over you, and you nodded eagerly, your breath hitching as you felt his hand press against your stomach. His cock, so deep and snug in you that you can feel the bulge faintly against your abdomen as he moved.

You nodded frantically, your eyes wide as you felt him pulse inside you. The thought of him coming inside you, of him potentially getting you pregnant, only served to heighten your pleasure. You were so close, so unbearably close to the edge, and with each thrust, you felt yourself slipping closer and closer to the brink.

“Yes, yes, I can feel it,” you gasped, your hips bucking up to meet his thrusts. “Please, Namjoon, please fill me up. I want to feel you cum inside me, fill me up, I want to carry your baby.”

Namjoon's thrusts grew more desperate, spurred on by your pleas, more urgent as he chased his release, his grip on your hips tightening as he drove himself deeper and deeper inside you, hitting places you didn’t think possible.

You feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, your body trembling with the effort of holding back.

“Don't stop,” you beg, your nails digging into his shoulders. “Don't you dare stop!”

But of course, ever the contrarian, Namjoon pulls out, making you scream in frustration. An elongated, miserable “Nooo,” falling from your lips, your body going limp, “God! Namjoon! I swear-” but he ignores you, flipping you over on your stomach.

You still angle your hips up in invitation, although angrily, your body trembling with anticipation and frustration. You’ve known your husband long enough to know how he liked to play, and how to play his games. You plant your knees on the mattress, lifting your ass higher in the air as your chest falls against the pillows, slowly swaying your hips for him.

Namjoon takes a moment to appreciate the sight before him. Watching you offer yourself to him so willingly, so eagerly. He can’t resist your lure much longer. He positions himself behind you, his fingers tracing a path down your spine before grasping your hips firmly. You feel the head of his cock against your entrance once more, and you can't help the whimper that escapes your lips, as again, he swipes it against your clit before sinking into you.

This new position allows him to reach deeper somehow, and you can feel him hitting your sweet spot with every movement. Your fingers clench the sheets as he starts to thrust harder, his hips meeting your ass with a satisfying slap, and you push back against him, meeting him stroke for stroke, your pleasure mounting right back up, bringing you closer to the edge.

Sweat starts to collect at your hairline, your breath hitching with each of his powerful thrusts.

“That's it, love. Take all of me,” Namjoon growls, his lips finding your neck as he continues to fuck into you. His hand snakes around to find your clit, and he starts rubbing slow circles around it, making your knees buckle under your own weight.

Your body trembles as he pushes you closer and closer to ecstasy. You can feel your orgasm building, the pressure coiling deep in your belly, ready to explode at any moment, with any one of his thrusts that hits right against your g-spot.

“Namjoon, I'm so close,” you gasp, your fingers gripping the sheets like a lifeline.

“I know, love. I can feel it. Let go, let me feel you come undone for me,” he whispers in your ear, his voice filled with need, his fingers flicking your clit softly, completely stealing the breath from your lungs. “Let me feel you clench around my cock baby.”

His words are your undoing. You cry out, dissolving into pleasure, everything around you cutting to white noise. Your elbows give way, and you collapse onto the mattress, completely boneless as he coaxes wave after wave of bliss from your trembling body.

His hands fly to your hips, holding you up for him as his thrusts grow more erratic, dragging out your orgasm and making you clench so hard against him that his movements stutters. You felt utterly weightless, as though your body had melted into the sheets, as if you had no strength left to hold yourself together.

“I’m so close,” Namjoon moaned your name, his sounds growing lounder and more uninhibited, as he relentlessly chased his own climax.

“Cum inside me,” you beg, egging him on. “Fill me up with your seed. Make a baby with me.”

His movements falter, his most base instincts taking over, and with one final, powerful thrust, he releases. Filling you up with his hot, sticky cum, you can feel it, coating your insides and leaking out. You clench around him, another orgasm, less intense but just as blissful as the first one washes over you.

The feeling of him coming inside you, the warmth and the intensity of it, is almost too much to bear. You can feel your heart racing, your entire body trembling with the aftershock. You can feel him still inside you, pulsing to the rhythm of his own release, and the sensation of it is just overwhelming.

“Fuck, love,” Namjoon whispers, his lips finding yours in a gentle kiss. “That was...incredible.”

You can only nod in agreement, your breathing still heavy and uneven. You can feel him softening inside you, but you don't want him to pull out. You want to stay like this forever, connected in the most intimate way possible, his full body weight on you.

But eventually, he does pull out, rolling onto his back beside you and you snuggle up against him, your head resting on his chest as you catch your breath. You can feel his heart racing, matching the rhythm of your own.

After a few moments of peaceful silence, broken only by your breathing, a soft, tired chuckle escaped your lips. You rested your chin on his chest, gazing up at him through fluttering eyelashes, a playful glint in your eyes.

“You have a breeding kink.” You state with a sly grin, your tone leaving no room for argument.

Namjoon huffs, his lips quirking into a faint smirk as he mutters, “Maybe.”

“Good,” you reply, pressing a soft kiss to his chest. “Means you’ll enjoy these next few months.”

He groans, running a hand through his hair as his gaze locks onto you, full of equal parts amusement and surrender.

“Fuck. You’ll be the death of me, woman.”

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