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hyukalyptus · 1 month ago

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office hours — professor!soobin x gradstudent!reader

cw. chubby!reader, reader is an adult grad student, minimal age gap, clear consent, petnames (babe, baby, honey, darling, good boy), mommy kink, face sitting, unprotected penetration, creampie, cunnilingus, handjobs, ending is cheesy, "epilogue" of sorts involves christmas vibes, kissing, please lmk if i'm missing anything. NSFW/MDNI notes. i would feel irresponsible if i didn't acknowledge this is a romanticized portrayal of a professor-student relationship. while the relationship in this story has clear consent multiple times, irl relationships like this can be inappropriate and exploitative bc of the authority imbalance. you deserve a healthy, consensual relationship. prioritize ur well-being and autonomy. relationships should be built on mutual respect, equality and clear consent. this is a work of fiction and should be read as such. shoutout to @silvergyus for sending the prof!soob pic <3 wc. 11.6k

“Which brings us to Le Chatelier's Principle in real-world chemical reactions,” Professor Choi says, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “This will be review for most of you, so I won’t go into too much detail.”

Chemistry is your favorite thing in the world. It’s real-life magic. And Professor Choi sees it that way too. His olive green chinos are wrinkled from walking from his office. The sleeves of his white button-down are pushed up so he can write freely on the whiteboard while his burgundy tie sways with his scurries.

Sparks of passion fill his eyes as he lectures. And he never disappoints with his cheesy jokes. Although you seem to be the only one that laughs at them—maybe you’re the only one that gets them. Not many students in his class are the experts in chemistry you are. You took it as a break from your intense course load and the elective credits are a nice bonus.

Most of your professors are so old they barely know how to turn on their laptop and are so deep into their tenure they’ve given up. If you bothered showing up to their office hours, you’d be lucky to find a professor, let alone a helpful one. So you’ve become a frequent visitor in Professor Choi’s office hours, talking about advanced chemistry he can’t wait to teach but it’ll be at least five years before he can. In the meantime, he’ll settle for nerding out with you in his office for a few hours every week.

“Great class today, everyone,” he says. “Have a great weekend and don’t hesitate to visit me during my office hours with any questions!” That sentence started out as a normal speaking voice but ended up a shout over the shuffling of the desk chairs and backpacks. You’re typically the last one out, but you save your questions for his office hours tomorrow.

“Hi,” you say, lightly tapping your knuckle against his office door.

Turning around in his chair, his lips form a pout in surprise at seeing you. “Were you waiting outside? Sorry that meeting ran a little long—” He shuffles to organize his desk.

“That’s okay.” Adjusting your bag on your shoulder, he rests his hands on his thighs and looks up at you. Did he just look you up and down? Don’t be ridiculous.

“What can I do ya for?”

“Right,” you start. “Can I…?” You ask, motioning toward the spare chair, waiting for his nod before sitting. “You know Professor Vaughn’s class?” You barely catch it, but his eyes roll. Professor Vaughn is the worst professor you’ve had. Boring, harsh, impatient. It doesn’t help he teaches one of the most complex forms of chemistry. “I’m not really getting this week’s content and was wondering if you could help me.”

“Of course.” He smiles. And it’s devastating. The sparkle in his eyes and those dimples. Craning his neck to look at your notes riddled with red question marks, he nods. As soon as he sees the title of your notes, he says, “Let’s think about this from a quantum mechanical perspective. If we assume that the π-complex is forming, we’re talking about a stabilization due to delocalization π-electrons, right?”

In what feels like no time at all, an hour has passed and the conversation has been the complete opposite of Professor Vaughn’s lectures. Questions led down rabbit holes, leading to other theorems and more questions. As he glances up at you through his glasses, there is an undeniable tingle in your stomach.

It’s not like you haven’t noticed how attractive Professor Choi is. He’s tall, lean but undeniably strong, he has the most perfect silky black hair and the prettiest brown eyes, and his pout—indescribably cute. And again—those goddamn dimples. He’s the perfect mixture of sexy, handsome, and pretty. You’d never think of doing anything with a professor, but you can’t help your mind wanders during the slower lectures.

How long have you been staring at each other in silence? Too long probably. He clears his throat. “Well,” he says, looking at his watch. “My office hours have been over for a few—”

“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry,” you say, stumbling as you stand, attempting to gather your things as quickly as possible. But he shakes his head, trying to shrug it off.

“That’s okay,” he says. “I, uh, I just have my emails waiting for me.”

You nod, shoving everything into your bag and heading out the door. What was that? You’re probably overreacting, you think to yourself. He’s charming because of his looks, there’s no way he’d— No. Don’t even finish that thought.

"How is it that someone who scored the highest in my theoretical chemistry exam is turning basic lab work into a spectacle of incompetence?" Professor Vaughn boasts over your right shoulder. No doubt his thick eyebrows are furrowed.

As your hands tighten around the test tube, you know exactly what to do—you always do—but everything slips through your fingers in his class.

"I’m trying to get the reaction to stabilize," you stammer, eyes darting between your hands, the chemical reagents lined up on the table, and your notebook.

Professor Vaugn’s expression hardens as he steps closer, looking down his nose at your station. "Trying is for high school sophomores. If you’re still trying, you’re behind."

Taking a deep breath, you carefully add three more drops to the mixture but the reaction goes wrong. Again. A plume of white smoke rises from the beaker, and the liquid turns an unexpected, muddy brown.

"Unbelievable," Vaughn mutters loud enough for everyone to hear. Everyone knows you’re the best student in your class. Well, everyone except Soren, who’s so jealous of your intelligence they can hardly stand it. They simply smirk. "I expected more from you."

Your heart sinks. You checked those calculations three times. Maybe it’s your shaky hands. Or the pressure of him looming over your shoulder. Or the other stuff on your mind.

"Are you going to sit there and guess again, or would you like to double down on failure with your next attempt?" Vaughn sneers, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"I’m not guessing, Professor. I—"

"Can’t manage a basic reaction?" Vaughn interrupts with his icy voice. "I’m beginning to wonder how you even made it into this program."

"I’m perfectly capable. The solution is just—"

"Wrong. Yes, we’ve established that." Vaughn’s lips curl into a patronizing sneer. "Maybe chemistry isn’t the field for you if this is the best you can manage." That got everyone’s attention—it would be an interesting sight to see you fail. It so rarely happens. Sure, you’ve been doubted before but have always proven yourself. Today would be no different.

You take a deep breath and count to yourself, One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

As you block out Vaughn’s piercing gaze and the weight of the other students’ eyes, you carefully remeasure the chemical, adjusting the proportions this time, methodically double-checking your work. You add the reagent once more, slowly, and watch as the solution begins to shift.

A moment passes. The reaction stabilizes and the solution turns a clear, pale blue.

"Finally," Vaughn mutters. You don’t even have to look at him to know he rolled his eyes. He turns to walk away but pauses. "Barely acceptable. Next time, you won’t be given the luxury of so many failures."

Bursting through the door upon dismissal, you can’t get to the restroom fast enough, barely making it to a stall before tears stream down your cheeks.

“One. Two. Three. Four. Five,” you whisper to yourself.

Sometimes, chemical reactions need to be dealt with instantly, but that’s an overwhelming amount of pressure. You give yourself five seconds before you absolutely have to deal with it. Same thing here. Cry. Count to five. Wipe your tears and move on.

But it’s difficult to move on this time. You’ve counted to five a few too many times today. But the only person you want to talk about it with is—

Professor Choi, Are you available to meet me in Lab 270 tomorrow afternoon? I’ve been struggling with some reactions and could use some help. I’ll be there from 2:00—4:00. If not, no worries!

Sniffling, you hit send on your email app, shove your phone in your bag and head home.

The next day drags on and on. Did he even get your message? Expecting an empty lab, you’re surprised to find Professor Choi waiting for you behind a laptop wearing a cute tweed jacket with suede elbow patches. His eyebrows are furrowed as his focused eyes study the computer, but they brighten at the sight of you.

Initially surprised by your confusion, he squeezes his eyes shut and says, “I didn’t respond to your email, did I?” He’s already got the lab station set up. How long has he been waiting on you? “So, how’s Professor Vaughn’s class?” Did someone tell him about yesterday? God, you hope not.

“Fine,” you deadpan. Shaking your head, you say, “I’m sorry…I’m just kinda stressed.”

“I can go if you need some time by—”

“No,” you say, softening your tone. “I’d really appreciate your help.”

And he’s more than willing, letting you ask whatever you want, never interrupting or talking over you like most of the men in the program. He gives you space to explore ideas and theories, listening closely instead of answering everything for you.

And he’s so damn sexy when he’s the one doing the ranting. The way he talks with his hands, ones that are so big with fingers so long you wish he would wrap around your—

“Shut up.”

“Excuse me?” He asks.

Oh shit, did you say that out loud? What a fucking nightmare. “Uh, sorry, just…talking to myself. Too many thoughts racing around the ole dome.”

A slight pout forms on his lips as he continues his rant. Now, the only thing you can think of are his lips wrapped around your—

“Ah!” Your hand slips toward the Bunsen burner and, great, now you’ve got a nice burn on your thumb.

“Oh gosh, are you okay?” He stands quickly. “Let me see.” His fingers graze your palm, igniting a fiercer burn than the actual flame just did. “Run it under cold water, okay?”

In the meantime, he straightens up your station before meeting you at the sink. “Is something wrong?” His words make you jump. “You seem distracted.”

That’s all it takes. The floodgates open. You rant about the sexist piece of shit Professor Vaughn and his power moves to intimidate you when he knows you’re the best student in the program. About how embarrassed you were in lab yesterday. Last semester when you raised your hand to correct an equation on the board and he gave you a firm talking to about respect after class.

He watches you carefully, handing over a towel for your hands as you take a steadying breath, fighting back tears.

“Did I ever tell you why I started studying chemistry?” he asks. You sniffle, shaking your head. “My grandfather. He was a baker.” His voice softens, and you look up to find his eyes full of kindness. “Every Saturday, he’d make me work in his bakery. I didn’t mind—it felt like magic, you know? But really, it’s science. It’s all precision, measurements, timing.”

A smile tugs at his lips. “Once, I tried baking a cake for my mom’s birthday, followed his recipe exactly. Measured the flour, the sugar, the cocoa. When I pulled it out of the oven, it was hard. Flat. I was sure he’d be disappointed, calling it a waste of time and ingredients. I was terrified. But he looked at it, smiled, and told me to try again the next day. When I asked why it didn’t work, he said I needed to ‘feel my way through it.’”

You sit there, the sting from your burn now fading, but your heart’s still aching, wanting something from him—a hug, a kiss, even just a pat on the shoulder.

“If I’d gotten it right the first time, I’d never know what overmixed batter looks like. Or that I like more cocoa than he did. Or that you should coat berries in flour.” His smile creeps up to his eyes. “Seeing how failure could make you better—it made me curious. I wanted to understand why some things worked and others didn’t, why I needed to feel my way through it, to get into the details.” He makes eye contact with you again. “That’s why I went into chemistry. Baking taught me the magic is in the little things—if you’re willing to screw up and keep going.”

Nodding, you smile back. His words hang in the air for a moment, like they’re meant to settle, but something’s missing.

“All I’m saying is, its okay to fuck things up, okay?” he says, his candidness drawing a chuckle from you. “How else would you learn?”

The world’s drained of color—only hazy shades of grey and beige are left. Your palms press against a cold marble countertop with the faint sound of running water echoing in the distance. The reflection of the mirror looks like you, but not quite. The woman in the mirror has her lips painted a dark, sultry brown, a shade you’d never choose. And the outfit is far too dressy for a lecture. Shadows fall where there shouldn’t be any.

The hallways are unfamiliar, yet you know it's the same building you visit almost every day. It's blurry, like you’re walking through a memory that isn’t yours.

You look down at the saddle shoes on your feet clicking against the tile floor, unnervingly filling the emptiness. It feels like someone else is controlling your body but you don’t question it. You can’t. Your hand raises, knuckles brushing a wooden door before it creaks open on its own.

On the other side of the door, Professor Choi faces a green chalkboard. Has that always been in his office? Hurriedly scribbling down equations, he glances between the board and the notebook in his hand. When he looks over his shoulder at you, his eyes soften and a slow smile spreads across his face. “Come in,” he says gently, setting his notebook aside. His voice wraps around you, making the room feel smaller, closer. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

Your spine tingles. “I know,” you reply, but the words sound hollow, like you’re speaking from somewhere else.

“Here,” he suggests, holding a piece of chalk out to you. The way he gestures toward the board is magnetic. As you take it from his hand, your fingers brush his. “What do you think of this?” An unfinished equation waits to be solved. His presence looms behind you, close but not quite touching as you reach up to solve it. Your heart pounds, every stroke of the chalk on the board heavier than it should.

“Impressive,” he murmurs, his voice low, rough around the edges. You turn to face him and he’s closer than expected, his warmth radiating against your skin. The air is thick with something unspoken. You step closer, tentative at first, then quicker, more certain. Your lips almost brush his, but he pulls back, his breath catching.

He looks down, your name a whisper on his lips, soft and pained. “I—” His eyes flicker up to meet yours, then fall back down like the weight of your gaze is too much.

“What?” You ask, your voice barely more than a breath. Your eyes dart between his, lingering on his tempting mouth. He leans in again with desire in his eyes. He wants to kiss you. You can feel it. And for a moment you think he might.

But he pulls away, his forehead nearly resting against yours. “I don’t think we should be doing this,” he says, his voice strained, as if saying the words is physically painful for him.

“Why not?” The question slips from your lips before you can stop it, frustration and longing lacing your tone.

His hands flex at his sides, like he’s fighting the urge to touch you. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to, or—”

“Why would I feel like that?” you interrupt, your voice impatient. Your heart races, pounding in your ears, drowning out reason.

“I’m your professor,” he breathes out like it’s a curse. His words only fan the flames of the tension building between you. There’s nothing wrong with that, you think to yourself. It’s not like you’re fresh out of high school—you’re a grad student, close to starting the same PhD he earned barely three years ago. He’s no more than five years older.

“I don’t care,” you insist, stepping even closer, your lips a breath away from his. “I want you to kiss me.”

His eyes darken, his resolve faltering as his gaze drops to your lips. “It’s a mistake,” he whispers, but his voice trembles with indecision, trying to convince himself more than you.

“Make the mistake,” you urge, your voice soft but sure. Your hand reaches for his tie, tugging as light as you can just to bring him that much closer. “You said it yourself, it’s okay to fuck things up.”

There’s a beat of silence, so thick it feels as though the room itself is holding its breath, waiting. And in that moment, the space between you seems to collapse, the weight of everything unsaid pulling you closer.

The millisecond before your lips touch, you breathe awake.

You bolt straight up, feeling around your soft bed sheets, breathless as your heart pounds from the vividness of it all. For a moment, you linger in the feeling, brushing your fingers over your lips, feeling the warmth of the almost kiss. But reality sinks in and your stomach drops.

Reaching for your phone, you check the time. Great, it’s almost time for his class. But there’s no hazy world to hide in. Skipping class might be an option but an exam reminder drags you out of bed.

Trudging across campus, your stomach sinks lower with each step. How can you look him in the eye? Dropping your bag to the floor with a thud, you hang your head low. Let’s just get through this exam and get outta here.

“How’s your hand?” Professor Choi’s voice shakes you out of your thoughts. “Sorry,” he chuckles, holding his hands up. “Didn’t mean to scare ya.” Looking at you like you’re the cutest puppy he’s ever seen, you can’t bring yourself to speak, but you hold out your hand. The second his fingertips touch yours, you flinch and jerk it back.

“Um—” you start. “Better, thanks.” Turning away from him, you distract yourself with a random notebook from your bag.

“...You okay? You shouldn’t be nervous about the exam.” When you look up, you’re met with eyes that appear…hurt?

“No, it’s not that.” That’s not a good answer. “Just…” What would you even say? I had an incredibly vivid—and delicious—dream about you last night and now I need to know how your lips feel in real life? “Cramps.”

“Ah.” He nods and leaves you alone, awkwardly walking to the front of the class to make some announcements and general good wishes before the exam. With your fist pressed to your chin, you refuse to look up, hanging your head low even as he slides you your copy.

There’s a bright green post-it stuck to it with a note, It’s okay to fuck it up! Your heart races as your eyes dart around searching for him. When you find him, he gives you a soft smile. You return the smile but rush to unstick it before anyone sees, storing it in your notebook for safe keeping.

As you return to your apartment, the post-it stares back at you like you’re the guiltiest son-of-a-bitch in the world. It’s practically calling you a whore. And you can hardly take it anymore. You can’t bring yourself to face him for class a few days later—although skipping feels like a cardinal sin. Soon enough, though, your email dings.

From: Choi Soobin, PhD I noticed you were absent from class today. I hope everything’s okay. The lecture notes are attached for your reference. Feel free to stop by my office hours with any questions. Professor Choi

Did your heart just flutter? Why are you walking toward his office? When you knock on the door, he stands—more like stumbles—to greet you, “Hi!”

“Hi, Professor Choi…” You linger in the doorway, clutching your notebook tight to your chest. “Sorry I missed class—”

“Is everything alright?”

“Yeah—”

“You’re not overwhelmed with coursework, are you?” His eyes search yours, and there’s a softness in his voice that makes it hard to look away.

“No, no, I’m alright. I just…had a migraine this morning,” you say, shrugging slightly. “It’s gone now, though.”

He nods, easing into a warm smile. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.” His gaze doesn’t waver and the intensity makes your pulse quicken. “So, I’m guessing you’re here to go over questions from the lecture?”

“Actually, it’s Professor Vaughn’s class I’m struggling with. His lecture today was…brutal.”

“I’m shocked,” he says sarcastically. “The man’s got a gift for making simple concepts sound like Greek.”

“Exactly,” you laugh, the tension in your shoulders easing. “I thought it was me, but he seems to take pride in making everything harder than it needs to be.”

“Trust me, it’s not you,” he says, a glint of warmth in his eyes. “He’s terrible. And annoying. And boring. And I’d tell him that.”

You raise a brow, skeptical. “You wouldn’t.”

“Well…” He breaks into a grin. “Maybe after I reach tenure. Though he may be retired by then.”

“Or dead,” you say matter-of-factly. He looks at you awkwardly then you both laugh, genuinely. There’s an ease to it.

He gestures to your notebook. “Alright, let’s see what we’re dealing with.”

“I can’t believe I’m laughing at that,” you say, a giggle escaping your lips.

“You always laugh at my bad jokes,” he replies, staring at your face a little too longingly. If you were anyone else, he might find some excuse to touch you. Maybe brush a piece of lint off your shoulder, lightly touch your arm while he laughed at something you said, or something as casual as a fist bump.

If he were any other guy, you’d be much more obvious, making it crystal clear you want him to kiss you right now. But you can’t. You don’t even know how he thinks about you. You’re probably just another student to him.

“Well, those are all my questions,” you say, awkwardly packing your bag.

“Yeah, you can, uh…head out…” he trails off as you start to rise from your seat.

You’re searching for something to say, something to let you stay just a little longer. But nothing comes. He watches you walk toward the door, the silence hanging in the space between you.

“Pens!” His voice suddenly burst out, loud enough to make you stop mid-step. “They, uh—I went to a conference last week and they gave me a ton,” he says, scrambling to gather a handful from his desk.

You take them, your fingers brushing against his in a way that feels far too intimate. His eyes lock with yours, the touch sending a ripple of tension through you. “But you’re, uh…picky about your pens, aren’t you?” He asks, his voice softer now, almost unsure.

Laughing quietly, you say, “Yeah, but…that’s okay.” Your words are heavy with subtext you can’t bring yourself to say out loud. “Well, goodbye.” You offer him a smile, stepping back toward the door. “Thanks again.”

“Yeah. Goodbye,” he says, but his feet shuffle forward as if he’s moving without thinking. Awkwardly reaching for a handshake, he realizes your hands are occupied. Instead, he reaches around you for the door handle, but he gets a tad too close and your brain scrambles.

Before you can hold yourself back, you drop the pens, letting them clatter to the floor as your arms wrap around his neck. Your lips meet his in a rush, warm and soft. While your eyes close to savor the feeling, his widen in shock before he relaxes into your touch and wraps his hands around your waist, pulling you closer.

It’s everything you’ve been holding back—unspoken feelings unraveling in a heartbeat. His lips move against yours with a hunger that surprises you, the world melting away as you lose yourself in the moment. You feel weightless, your pulse racing as his hands grip your waist a little tighter, as though he’s afraid to let you go.

When you finally break apart, breathless and dazed, he presses his forehead to yours, the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. “You’re never gonna use those pens, are you?” he asks, his voice low and rough, like he’s trying to anchor himself in humor, trying to bring himself back down to earth.

You laugh, shaking your head. “No,” you admit, your heart still pounding. “They’re garbage.”

Before you can think, you kiss him again and this time, he doesn’t hesitate. His mouth crashes into yours with an urgency, like he’s wanted to kiss you since the second he laid eyes on you. His lips are soft, but his kiss is demanding, making up for all the lost moments between you. For those few minutes, nothing else matters—you bask in one of the greatest kisses either of you have ever had. But not for long.

Reality catches up too quickly. You pull away suddenly, breathless and wide-eyed. “Oh my god—” you gasp, backing up, your fingers graze your lips trying to make sense of what just happened. “I’m so sorry—”

“No,” he interrupts quickly, shaking his head. “Don’t be. I—” He’s stumbling through his words, just as lost as you are but neither of you regret it. “I wanted—”

“That was…” You can’t even finish your sentence. It was everything. Too much, too fast, too real. But you can’t take it back.

“I—” He’s trying to find the right words, to reassure you, to tell you he felt it too, that he wanted it just as badly. But he’s as flustered as you are, his voice rough and unsure.

“I’ll just…go throw myself off a bridge now,” you mumble. You can’t even look at him as you make a beeline for the door, your face burning with embarrassment. You think you hear him say something, but the blood rushing in your ears drowns it out.

You leave the room quickly, your heart about to burst through your chest, trying to process what just happened. The kiss lingers on your lips, a mix of exhilaration and terror swirling inside you. It’s too much to handle.

But, hey, there’s one bit of good news. At least he kissed you back.

What the fuck are you supposed to do now? Drop his class? It’s too late in the semester for that. And you need those credits. Wait until the end of the semester to talk to him again? Can you go that long without his lips on yours again?

Back at your apartment, you rummage through your books to find the university’s code of conduct, hurriedly searching for anything related to “appropriate relationships,” “faculty-student relationships,” “consensual,” blah blah blah, whatever the university has coded sleeping with a professor.

The University strongly urges those individuals in positions of authority not to engage in conduct of an amorous or sexual nature with a person they are, or are likely in the future to be, in a position of evaluating.

Your eyes read over the words, “strongly urges” once more. Not totally against the rules, you suppose. Even if you did wait until the semester was over, you’d need to report it. You wish you could talk with him about it, but bringing this up is tricky. Is it moving too fast? You can’t text him, you don’t have his number. And using your student email to send a message to his faculty email that says, “Oh, by the way, I checked the rules and we’re in the clear to have sex!” is a terrible idea.

Maybe one kiss in his office doesn’t mean anything. Oh, but it was everything.

After much deliberation, you convince yourself to attend his class a few days later. You’ve brought the code of conduct along, as well as a bright pink post-it sticking out of the book. To avoid any form of small talk with him, you wait outside right until the start of class.

Along the way to your desk, you silently plop the code of conduct on his desk and scurry away. When you work up the courage to look up at him, he’s flipped to the marked page. Highlighted on the page is the paragraph that “strongly urges” people in positions of authority not to sleep with students.

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t disappointed. The message couldn’t be clearer, he thought. You’re practically telling him to leave you alone. But when he finally reads the post-it, his heart flutters. Written in your handwriting, it says, It’s okay to fuck it up! complete with a smiley face.

As much as he tries to fight it, he glances up at you to catch your gaze. And just as the slightest smile appears on his face, a big one appears on yours. You hide it with your palm as you start at the blank page of your notebook. Blinking, he shakes his head and begins his lecture. But how can you concentrate now?

You’ve gotta give it to him, he delivers his lecture perfectly. If it were you, you’d barely be able to think. Hell, you barely can throughout the whole thing.

Now that you’ve gotten that smile of permission, you finally let yourself daydream.

Has his ass always been that cute? Has he always been that tall? Has his voice always been that deep and sexy?

You don’t even know what he’s talking about, but that’s okay, you can always stop by his office hours. “What do you think?” He asks.

Oh shit, he’s looking at you for an answer. He can always rely on you to keep class moving along when everybody else is dead silent. You shake out of your thoughts, panic-reading the board to come up with something. It's similar to your discussion you had the last time you went to his office hours. The time that ended in that gorgeous kiss. Throwing together an answer, his eyes brighten as he cheers, “Exactly!”

Oh my god. He’s the cutest thing you’ve ever seen. You could just gobble him up.

“So, I suppose we should talk about…” Professor Choi trails off, leaving the sentence hanging in the air like it’s obvious what he’s getting at. And it is. But you stay quiet. You wanna hear him admit it. You raise an eyebrow, playing coy.

You decided to press your luck by visiting his office outside scheduled office hours—right after class—to simply test the waters and gauge his reaction to the code of conduct and that kiss…that incredible kiss.

“You know…” He gestures vaguely between the two of you, sighing like okay, fine, I guess I’ll say it. “I like you and you like me, right?” His voice dips just slightly, enough for you to notice the hesitation. “Unless I’m totally misreading—”

“No! You’re not…misreading anything,” you’re quick to say, along with a chuckle. Phew—he was worried there for a second. So goddamn cute. “What do you wanna talk about?”

He exhales a small laugh, but his smile is strained, cautious. “I want to make sure you don’t feel…weird about this.” Hand sliding nervously along the edge of his desk, he traces the wood grain before his eyes flick up to meet yours. Truth be told, he’d never do something like this with a student. Never want to make anyone feel pressured. But he never thought he’d feel like this. Giddy and blushy like you’re his first crush.

“Why would I feel weird?” You tilt your head, genuinely curious. You’ve thought about this—about him—far too much for any of it to feel weird.

“I’m just terrified you feel like you need to do something about this.” You’re taken aback, confusion visibly etched across your face. “You know, because I’m your professor or because I’m in the department and I know your plans for a PhD here.” His voice softens, vulnerability creeping in. “I don’t want it to feel like I’m pushing you into anything.”

“I don’t,” you say gently. “It’s not like that.”

He nods, though the tightness in his jaw doesn’t disappear. “Because if you ever even remotely feel like I’m pressuring you, I want you to tell me. Immediately. I mean it.”

“No,” You shake your head, almost too fast. “I mean, it doesn’t feel like that. Not at all. I’ve thought about this…about us, a lot.” Your voice falters for a moment as his eyes widen, softening in a way that makes your stomach flutter. You weren’t expecting him to look at you like that—so open, so relieved.

His fingers twitch as if he’s resisting the urge to reach out to you. “Yeah?”

You nod again, more confidently this time. “But I think we should wait until the semester’s over. Before we…you know…do anything.”

He smiles gently and leans back, visibly more at ease. “I think so too.”

But you didn’t realize how fucking difficult it would be to get through the last six weeks of the semester. Every class you sit there, thighs pressed together thinking about the dirtiest things you want him to do to you. Every office hour you went to, you could practically swim through the thickness of the tension between you two.

It didn’t help how cute he was being. Post-its he’d leave on every exam of yours—You’re gonna do great! You’ve got this. Trust your instincts.—encouragement no other student got. You kept every one of them in your bedside table drawer.

When finals week finally arrives, it wasn’t just about exams; it was about counting the hours until you could finally be with him. Or at least talk to him like he wasn’t your professor. As he handed over your final exam, the familiar green post-it note was stuck to it: Happy Finals Week!

Your internal scream was so loud, you’re worried your classmates heard it. You’d pre-written a post-it to stick to it once you returned the exam. It had your phone number, a smiley face, and the words: Since you’re not my professor anymore.

After a full day of checking your phone every twenty seconds, you started to give up. Was he just playing you? Did someone else see the note? Did he change his mind? But finally, you receive a text.

hi! this is soobin (professor choi lol). i was wondering if you wanted to get dinner or something?

soobin!! omg yes i would love to get dinner with you :) how’s tomorrow?

how about right now? if you want, of course! no pressure we can totally wait until tomorrow it’s up to you

You squealed into your pillow, kicking and giggling like an idiot. Should you be flirty back?

i can be ready in 30 min. 364 oakridge drive. it’s an apartment building- i’ll meet you downstairs.

be there in 45 :)

Like a perfect gentleman, Soobin meets you at the passenger door, swinging it open with a charming smile before gently closing it behind you. The slow walk up to his front door makes your stomach stir. He has to fumble through his keys to unlock it.

Once inside, he slips his shoes off quietly, revealing cozy patterned socks that make you smile. Meticulously, he hangs his jacket on a coat tree and places his keys in a speckled clay catch-all that rests on a table next to a houseplant. As he walks toward the kitchen, he glances over his shoulder, his voice low and inviting. “Do you want a drink or something?” The warmth in his gaze makes your heart skip a beat.

You’re drawn to this softer side of him. In class, his tone is bright and dorky. In his office, it’s casual and laid-back. At dinner, it was sweet and charming. But now? Now it’s sultry, almost sexy. Like he can’t wait to be with you but would never, ever pressure you.

“Hot tea?” You suggest with a steady voice, despite the butterflies in your stomach.

“Sounds good,” he agrees, switching on his tea kettle. In the meantime, you take a look around his much neater than expected apartment.

The mid-century modern furniture is impeccably arranged—a sleek sofa, a low coffee table, and a stylish armchair with an even more stylish decorative pillow. Perfectly nurtured plants thrive around the room, adding a green vibrancy to the minimalist backdrop, breathing life into the space. A gallery wall above his expensive-looking couch features travel photos, beautiful art, and a few subtly science-inspired pieces. In the corner across the couch is a sleek electric fireplace underneath a huge TV.

“Who’s this?” you ask, your heart swelling as a fluffy gray cat glares at you through one half-open eye. Her perfectly groomed fur and regal posture make her look like she owns the place. Just then, Soobin steps into the living room, holding two steaming mugs of tea, filling the air with a warm spice.

“That’s Molly…short for Molecule,” he says. “Don’t worry, she’s sweet.”

Extending your hand toward the cat, he starts to sniff you. “Hi, M—wait,” you pause, looking up at Soobin with a teasing smile. “Molly, short for Molecule?” He nods, his grin widening. “You’re adorable,” you tell him. Has anyone ever blushed quite like he did just now?

He stares down at his feet, clearly caught off guard. “You’re,” he starts. “Well, you’re cute too.” His sincerity makes your smile grow even stronger.

“Can I sit?” you ask, nodding toward the couch.

“Oh,” his smile falters for a moment. “Yes, of course. Make yourself at home.” You plop down on his couch, settling into the surprisingly soft cushions. Molly clearly doesn’t think the couch is big enough for the two of you, so she strides over to probably the nicest cat tree you’ve ever seen.

You sip your hot tea and your body finally relaxes. As you reach to sit it on the coffee table, he politely asks, “I don’t mean to be a square, but can you use a coaster?”

“Of course,” you say, complying with the request. “So, tell me,” you begin, clearing your throat. “How’d I do on my final?” Humming, he stands to rummage through his messenger bag slumped over a dining chair. You gasp, “A ninety-seven?” Thumbing through the pages, you find a single red X on possibly the easiest question you’ve had on an exam since high school: What is the atomic number of oxygen? “Are you kidding me?”

Any attempt to mask your embarrassment is impossible. It only deepens when you look up and catch him already watching you—lips pressed tight, failing miserably to hide a smug, amused smile.

“I, uh…” You scratch the back of your neck. “I got that one wrong on purpose. You know, so as to not raise any suspicion.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, did you now?” You nod. “That was on the exam just so Toby wouldn’t get a zero.” You nod begrudgingly. “And you put 10! That’s not even close. That’s—”

“Neon,” you grumble. “Yeah I know…” you say, avoiding his eyes as he laughs playfully.

“Neon’s a noble gas and oxygen is a—”

“Reactive nonmetal,” you cut him off. “I know, okay?” You shove his shoulder playfully, but your grin betrays you. “It was a high-pressure environment. Sitting in an exam room with your professor watching you."

"I barely looked up from my laptop,” he reminds you.

"Your presence is distracting enough," you shoot back, eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Ah, so my intellectual aura threw you off?”

“I dunno…is that what you think, professor?” You ask cheekily. “Maybe it was something else.” You’ve tossed the exam onto the coffee table, moving closer.

“Like what?”

“Just…you. You’re distracting.” You smirk, the words slipping out almost involuntarily, like they’ve been waiting on the tip of your tongue.

Intrigued, he tilts his head and asks, “What about me?” There’s something magnetic in the way he looks at you—like he knows the answer but wants to hear you say it, to savor the way it sounds coming from your lips.

You hum, tracing the lines of his body with your eyes, mapping out uncharted territory before exploring it. You don’t want to move too fast, but every fiber of your being screams for more. He’s not lighting a fire inside you—he’s setting the whole forest ablaze. Sure, your imagination has been running rampant since he returned your feelings six weeks ago, but now that you’re here, he scrambles every thought.

“Your eyes…” you say while yours flick over his face, taking in every curve, every freckle, every lash. “They’re so pretty.”

A smile—small but real—tugs at the corners of his lips. The kind that’s private, meant just for you. His eyes darken as he leans in, the space between you shrinking. You glance down, noticing the way his long fingers curl around the mug handle. There’s something almost hesitant in the way he holds it. You take it from him gently, setting it atop a coaster as quietly as you can.

“Your hands…” you whisper, fingers barely brushing his knuckles, tension coiled under his skin. They’re hands that have worked, experimented, written things down—hands you want on you. Guiding one to your thigh, the squeeze he returns sends a shudder through you.

Everything between you is electric. Your breaths come faster now, more desperate. Every inch you move toward him is a test, a slow-motion collapse of restraint.

“Your legs…” A soft breathless chuckle escapes as you glance down. His lips part like he’s about to speak, but you don’t give him the chance. Boldness surges through you like a current and you hike one leg over both of his, straddling him. The shift is seismic. His hands move to your hips, gripping you, afraid to let go. The heat of his touch spreads through you, anchoring you in place, though it feels like everything around you is spinning.

“And your lips…” you murmur, leaning closer, your breath mingling with his. “Oh my god, those fucking lips.” You can’t stop staring at them, just a breath away now, soft and wet. Your pulse races.

You cup his face, lifting his chin until his eyes meet yours again. His pupils are blown wide, the desire in them unmistakable. Your thumb brushes his bottom lip, and the moment stretches, suspended. You lean in just enough to feel his breath on your lips.

“Kiss me,” you whisper.

And he does.

It isn’t tentative—it’s dam-breaking. Like he’s been starving for it, holding back for years. His lips are soft but urgent as his hands tighten around your hips to pull you closer. You taste jasmine tea on his lips, a subtle sweetness mingling with the spice of his cologne—clove, pepper, something dark and addictive.

“Holy shit,” you whisper against his lips. “I can’t believe I had to wait so long to kiss you again.” You kiss him again and he moans sweetly into your mouth. Just as the kiss deepens, he retreats, his breath ragged. “You okay?”

Nervously nodding, he says, “Yeah,” but his eyes flicker away. He tries to kiss you again, but you place your hand on his chest, gently stopping him.

“Wait,” you say, eyes searching his face. “What’s going on? Am I being too—”

“No,” he says, almost a little too urgently. “It’s not that. It’s just…” His hands fall to the couch. Bracing to tell the truth, he squeezes his eyes shut before adding, “I need to tell you something.” You sit back on your heels, still in his lap but giving him room to speak.

“What is it?” You ask softly.

“There’s this thing… I haven’t—uh…” He stumbles over the words, his fingers twitching at his sides.

“Soobin?” you ask, your voice gentle but steady. That’s the first time you’ve called him by his first name. It feels utterly…vulnerable. “Are you a virgin?” The question is delicate. Shutting his eyes again, he takes a deep breath.

“No,” he says. “Well, not exactly.” You narrow your eyes at him. What is that even supposed to mean? “It’s just…it’s been a while. And before then, I hadn’t had a lot of sex. And I haven’t had any…recently.”

“How long?” you encourage, your eyes softening.

“A year.”

You hum softly in acknowledgement, watching his confidence falter. Instead of pulling back, you lean forward, trailing slow, deliberate kisses along his neck. He trembles under your touch, a soft gasp escaping his lips, your hands moving all over his body, claiming him.

“Oh, Professor Choi,” you whisper, your voice dripping with heat and promise. “We’re gonna have so much fun.”

As your breath slows, you sit up and let your hand linger over his chest, feeling his heartbeat under your palm. “Tell me,” you start. “What do you like?”

“Um,” he swallows, trying to force the lump down his throat. He’s so hesitant but he finally says, “Touching.”

“You touching my body or me touching yours?”

He exhales shakily. “The first,” he says, confirming with a squeeze to your hips.

You hum against his ear. What are you gonna do with him? Tease him forever? Let him have his way with you? You ask, “Why don’t you take my shirt off for me?”

Gracing his hands over your arms, he grounds himself again before asking, “You sure?”

“I’m sure.” You nod, guiding his hands to the top button of your blouse, letting him slip it through the buttonhole. One by one, he exposes more of your skin, his heart thumping harder with each passing second. Pushing the silky fabric past your shoulders until your top half is only covered by a bubblegum pink mesh bra, leaving almost nothing to the imagination—except for the red embroidered hearts over your nipples.

After easing the shirt out from your trousers, you reach back to pull at the sleeves, letting the shirt fall to the floor. He slips his finger under one of your bra straps, pulling it to the side, but you stop him. “Wait. It’s your turn.”

Tugging on his tie, you slip it through the collar and unbutton his dress shirt. Seeing his body bare in front of you for the first time, you’re practically drooling. You indulge in running your hands all over his body, lean with subtle muscles, from his chest to the bottom of his abs.

“How come you got to touch me if I didn’t get to touch you?” He asks innocently.

“You’re right,” you chuckle. “I’m sorry.” You smile and sit up to press your palms against his and let your fingers intertwine. Your heart melts and you fear you may throw up. “Did you want to take my bra off first?” He nods. Fumbling fingers reach behind you to snap it off, letting it fall to the couch. As he sees your bare tits, his eyes widen and he lets out the cutest little Oh.

He’s hesitant to do anything. You have to guide his hands to massage your tits—and they’re the perfect size for you.

“You’re so…soft,” he says, looking up at your eyes, like he’s not sure if that was okay to say.

“You like them?” He nods eagerly. Experimentally swiping a thumb across a nipple, it hardens at his touch while you let out a sharp gasp.

“You like that,” he says matter-of-factly. “Can I taste?” Nodding, you lean forward, welcoming his lips. His body finally relaxes as he moans against your skin. Circling the tip of his tongue around your nipple, he’s teasing you. And oh my god do you love it.

One of your hands threads through his hair and you stuff the other down your pants, but he grabs your wrist softly.

“That’s not fair,” he whispers and you concede, keeping your hands to yourself. With one hand, he stuffs your tit back in his mouth while the other plays with your other nipple. His hot, wet mouth on one nipple and his teasing fingers playing with the other sends waves of pleasure through you that may send you over the edge.

If you don’t do something to ease your need, you’re not sure how much longer you’ll be able to take this. You resort to grinding against his hard cock, making his hips buck.

Lifting your legs off his, you swing around to sit next to him, palming his cock over his trousers. Desperately clawing at the waistband, you unbutton and unzip his pants, encouraging him to kick them off. He stands to slip them off and as you reach for the band of his boxers, he stops you.

“Your turn,” he whispers. And you comply. But not without a show. Standing slowly, you push him to the couch and turn your back to him. As you push your pants down, your ass looks delicious in your thong that matches your bra—mesh bubblegum pink with red trim. When you turn back, he’s fisting himself over his underwear.

“Nuh-uh, that’s not fair,” you say. Returning next to him on the couch, you feel him over his boxers and your mouth waters. Goddamn you can’t wait for him to be inside you. “Do you have any lube?” He nods and shortly returns with a barely used tube.

While he stays standing, you sit up on the couch, running your hands across his muscular thighs and perfect pelvis. Looking up at him, his eyes are bright, darting all over your body like he’s afraid to miss something. He fiddles with his waistband, flipping the elastic over softly. A small smile flicks across your lips before you tug his boxers down his legs, leaving trails of kisses along the way.

Encouraging him to sit down, you look down at his cock, long and hard and dripping with precum. Finally, you drag your fingertips up and down his cock before squeezing him. He moans like you’ve never heard a man moan before. Laying your head on his shoulder, you sprinkle kisses all over his skin, finding a spot behind his ear that makes him squirm.

He hisses and—almost involuntarily—wraps one of his hands around yours to use his long fingers to guide your hand up and down. There’s something magical about someone with so little experience telling—no, showing—you what to do with his body. It’s electrifying. He hasn’t been touched in so long that he’s desperate to get off and can’t waste time with words. But no words need to be shared. His movements tell you what speed he likes.

Snaking his other arm around you, he stuffs his fingers in your hair and clenches his fist, subconsciously tugging the strands. His lips are right against your ear, breathing rapidly and heavily and he can hardly take it anymore. You watch his chest rise and fall as he clenches your hair, moaning getting quicker, he squeaks and whines.

Hurriedly pressing his lips to your temple, you can’t take your eyes off his cock as he shoots short spurts of cum all over his stomach. It takes a moment for him to catch his breath before he gives you a sweet smile.

You don’t let up with kisses all over his body. Sprinkling kisses here and there while he cleans himself up with a hand towel he’d brought with him when he got the lube from his bedroom. Once he’s clean, he slouches down the couch.

“Will you sit on my face?” His eyes are ever so sweet and innocent, like he’s finally able to test all his fantasies. “Please…” You hum like you’re only considering it, but we all know you’ll say yes. “Please, mommy?” Everything halts.

“Mommy?”

“F-fuck—” he sits up, ears turning redder than you’ve ever seen them—anyone’s ears for that matter. “I’m sorry, I should’ve asked first—”

“No, no…” you say gently, cupping his jaw to make him look at you. You can’t help yourself—you press your lips to his again and you lose yourself in his intoxicating kiss. But you break it and say, “Keep calling me that.”

“M-mommy?” You hum. Before you give him what he asked for, you shove your tit in front of his lips. He doesn’t need to be told what to do. His plush lips wrap around your hard nipple while he thumbs the other. It feels like fucking heaven.

“That’s my good boy.” He lets out the most pathetic whimper you’ve ever heard in your goddamn life. His eyebrows furrow, looking up at you through his lashes. “Are you my good boy?”

“Yes,” he says, nodding eagerly. “Yes, mommy. Of course.”

“Soobin,” you breathe in disbelief, dropping your head back. “You’re so sexy, I swear to god.”

“Nuh-uh,” he shakes his head. “That’s you.” He smiles. “Will you please sit on my face now?” He slouches down again without waiting for an answer. “Please.” You hike your leg up to rest your foot against the back of the couch, gently hovering over him. But he wraps his hands around your hips to yank you down. As he flicks his tongue over your clit, you might be embarrassed by the volume of your moan, but there’d be no reason to.

“I thought you said you didn’t do this a lot?”

“Well,” he takes a deep breath. “This was always what I was best at.” You chuckle. “Wait, no—” he shakes his head. “I’m good at the other stuff too. I hope.” Returning his tongue to your clit, you gasp and fall forward, bracing yourself against the back of the couch. He seizes the opportunity to get fully entranced in your taste.

There's an impossible contrast—your body melts, muscles soft and pliant as you surrender to the pleasure but, at the same time, goosebumps prickle along your skin, sharp and electric. Warmth and vulnerability layered with a thrill that leaves you shivering, somehow both at ease and on edge.

But then he snakes his hand behind your ass to tease your asshole with his pinky. And it's overwhelming. Your knees are so weak you can hardly hold yourself up. The way his hands feel on your body, touching you in all the right places, flicking his tongue perfectly, moaning so temptingly along with the built up tension—it is so much. So. Fucking. Much.

It builds in your stomach—teetering on the edge and god you only hope he doesn’t stop what he’s doing. But you can’t form words to tell him that. But he knows.

And then it happens.

You feel like you’re floating—or falling may be more accurate—as your orgasm washes over you, thighs quite literally quivering around his face as you come undone on top of him. For him. Unable to hold yourself up any longer, you roll and plop to the couch and he sloppily replaces his tongue with his fingers. You make a mental note to show him exactly where your clit is later. How is it that he found it so easily with his tongue but missed it with his hand? You guess he was right—oral is what he’s best at. Your chest heaves with your deep breaths as you come down from your high, watching him smirk at you.

“Oh my god,” you say breathlessly. There’s a beat of silence. “What the fuck?”

“What?” He chuckles.

“I wasn’t expecting that.”

“I told you I’m good at it.”

“Where’s your bedroom? This couch is too small for what we’re about to do.”

Once he shuts his bedroom door to keep Molly out, he pulls you by your waist to press his bare body to yours and kisses you again so romantically it takes your breath away.

“Wow,” he whispers against your lips. “You’re so beautiful.”

“Oh my god, shut up.” You go straight back in for more kisses. But you break it— “But not literally, though. Please keep saying stuff like that.” You giggle together, slowly falling toward the bed until you’re gently laid on your back and he’s over top of you.

“Can I, like, kiss all over your body?”

“Of course,” you say. “You don’t need to ask.”

And then he does exactly what he wants. Starting at your lips, he moves to the corner of your mouth, trailing behind your ear and down your neck. The way his breath tickles your neck sends shivers down your spine and you need more, more, more.

As you lay there, simply basking in the feeling of him taking his time exploring every inch of you with the softest lips you’ve ever felt, you can’t help but be giddy. He’s tentative in some areas and eager in others. After he kisses the sensitive skin under your breast, he carefully observes your reaction. When he delicately presses his lips to your pelvis, his eyes flutter up to yours nervously.

“Soobin,” you say breathlessly. He hums against your tummy, shaky hands running up your thighs. “I need you please.”

“You need me?” You nod. “Where do you need me, mommy?” You groan, arching your back, not even knowing where to start. You need him everywhere.

“Inside me,” you say. “Please, I’ve been thinking about it for so long.”

“Have you?” He asks innocently, using his fingers to play with the folds of your pussy so casually, like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. “I should be the impatient one.” But you know why he’s taking it so slow. He’s nervous as hell right now.

Aligning his cock with your entrance, he slowly pushes himself inside you. And it's utterly exhilarating. For both of you. He falls forward, framing your face with his forearms, digging his nose into your neck.

“Fuck…” He whispers shakily. Your nails drag down his back at his inexperienced hip rolls. “Oh my god, what are you doing to me?” Despite his inevitable desperation, his thrusts are controlled. He’s trying his very best at least. But his cock is so fucking perfect, you figure he’d make you feel good no matter what he does. Although, a little part of you thinks about how good he’ll be at fucking you in a few months after a little practice. Or lots of practice.

He whispers swears, your name, and mommy…over and over again. Then he sits up, looking down at your body. Awkwardly fumbling as if he wants to say something, his mouth isn’t cooperating with his brain. He slowly comes to a stop, sliding out of you and barely touches your calf.

“Can you, uh…would you mind, um—”

"Do you wish to see me on my knees? Is that it, darling?"

“Yes, mommy…please, I’ve never—”

“You’ve never had someone on their knees for you?” You ask and he silently shakes his head. “You’ve been such a good boy for me. Of course I’ll get on my knees for you.” You oblige to his request, turning yourself around and arching your back to give him a perfect view of your ass. He groans at the simple sight of your body. He swipes his hands over the swell of your ass, squeezing here and there.

He clears his throat and asks, “What do I do?”

“Oh,” you chuckle lightly. “Just get on your knees and guide yourself in. Make sure it’s the right hole,” you say light-heartedly, trying to ease the tension a bit.

But when he’s finally inside you again, it’s heaven. And he indulges in himself a bit—thrusting faster, harder, making your ass jiggle. The lewd sounds of his cock in your wetness and his hips smacking your skin makes it all the more erotic. But it doesn’t take long before—

“I like it better the other way, I think,” he says matter-of-factly. “Is that okay?”

“Of course that’s okay, babe,” you say, flipping back over and spreading your legs. And he slides right back inside you, letting his head fall back. But your tits bouncing are simply too tempting not to look at. They’re why he prefers it this way, so why not look at them as much as he can? He retreats a bit, opening his mouth like he wants to ask you something but he’s too shy.

“What is it, baby?”

“I was just wondering if you…if you could—would you want to be on top?” His tone is genuinely sweet. “Like what position do you like?”

“Missionary’s my favorite too,” you say. “But I would, hm, I would really like to be on top for a bit.” Switching quickly, you align yourself over his cock and sink down on him so, so, so slowly, letting out a big sigh of relief. “Oh my god, Soobin. Are you fucking kidding me?” You don’t think you’ve ever felt so full before. The feeling stretches all the way to your toes. “I need to hump you like crazy for a bit,” you say with a chuckle. He nods like that’s perfectly fine with me, mommy.

And you do exactly that—bounce on his cock as fast as your body lets you, relieving that built-up tension. Over the last few months, you wanted to jump his bones every time you were in the same room and that feeling never let up, like there was a tension thermometer in your body that was constantly stuck at boiling.

But perhaps it was a bit more painful for him because an occasional rut up into you isn’t enough anymore. He holds your hips to keep you in place, fucking up into you as fast as he can. Head dropping back, he groans, your name leaving his lips.

“Mommy?” His eyebrows furrow, looking utterly pathetic. “Let’s switch back. Please.” Hiking your leg over his hips, you land roughly on your back. Gently grabbing your hands, he pins them above your head, aligns his cock at your entrance, and slides inside you, rolling his hips so deliciously. As he kisses you, he swallows your moans. Trailing down your neck, he whispers, “Please tell me I’m making you feel good, Mommy.”

Your eyes roll back in pleasure and you say, “Fuck, you’re making me feel so good.”

Slowing his thrusts, he asks, “What else would you like me to do?” Smiling up at him, you rub his thighs. Waiting for an answer, he covers your collarbone in kisses, making his way back to your ear. After nibbling gently on your earlobe, he whispers, “Tell me how to make you feel even better.” Oof. Shivers.

“Rub my clit,” you say. He sits up, fumbling with his fingers. “Use your thumb,” you giggle. “Wait.” Reaching for his hand, you let spit pool in your mouth before wrapping your lips around his thumb. Sucking on it, he looks at you like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. Then he follows your instructions, rubbing your clit with his thumb while he fucks you, listening intently to every instruction, every a little to the lefts, up a little bit mores, and he never gets impatient.

Your back arches impossibly high and you say, “I’m close, babe. Don’t stop.” You rub your own nipple, but he moves your hand out of the way, wetting his thumb with his own spit before circling it for you.

Everything has been building to this moment. Staring at him in every lecture, longing for his touch. That kiss in his office was just the start of your addiction. Attending his office hours didn’t help, but you couldn’t stay away. You needed to be closer to him. To feel heat radiating off his body. To smell his spicy cologne. To watch his fingers wrap around his pen and wish they were wrapped around something else.

All of it was for this moment right here. Cumming around his cock for the first time. You can’t wait any longer. There’s a white hot burning in your belly that’s getting more furious by the second. His name leaves your mouth in a yelp before fireworks explode inside you.

Your legs shake around his waist as he fucks you through it, not changing a single thing. Overwhelmed with pleasure, you grab his wrist to stop him from rubbing your nipple to make sure it’s the most perfect orgasm you’ve ever had—not too much and not too little.

And it’s neither. Instead, it’s perfection. You knew it would be. It seems to last forever but somehow not long enough. As soon as you finish, you miss it.

Catching your breath, your vision clears up as you look up at him with a smile. He shyly asks, “How was that?”

You take a deep breath and say, “Oh my god, that was so good.” Rubbing soothing strokes up and down your thighs, you can tell he’s getting impatient. But still—he’d never pressure you in a million years.

Bending to kiss your neck again, he whispers, “Can I cum inside you?” You nod frantically.

“Please.”

“I have condoms if you want.” You think about it for a second. Really. You would love nothing more than to feel him fill you up. But it’s risky. “Mommy…” His hips slowly start moving again, encouraging a decision from you. “What are you thinking?”

“Cum inside me, please. Wanna feel all of you,” you say, rubbing his back. He smiles, pressing his lips to yours in a passionate kiss that sends your head reeling. He sits up and squeezes your thighs over and over, adoring the way your body feels in his hands. Soft and squishy and intoxicating. Licking your own thumb, you pinch and rub one of his nipples, making his mouth drop open. He didn’t even think of having his own nipples played with.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—” he gasps. You praise him, Cum inside me, baby. You’ve been such a good boy for me. I want you to feel so good for me, okay? And he’s rutting his hips into you roughly, using your body for his own pleasure. You simply can’t get enough. You want him inside you forever and ever. “You’re…” he trails off. “You’re gonna make me cum, Mommy.”

“Go ahead. Cum for me.” Like it’s a command, his hips stutter and his cum fills you up, warm and sweet and heavenly. Swears and other inaudible words you hope are compliments spill out of his mouth. Falling forward, he digs his face into your neck once more, twitching until he comes to a stop, taking deep breaths.

You expect a warm smile to echo his warm cum filling you up but he stays put. In fact, he doesn’t move or say anything for quite some time. So much time passes that his cock has slipped out of you on its own, his cum leaking down the swell of your ass.

You finally break the silence, “Are you okay?” He nods awkwardly. “Look at me.” He shakes his head. “What’s wrong?” He still won’t budge. “Soobin, what’s going on?”

“I’m embarrassed,” he whines.

“Huh? About what?”

“Calling you mommy,” he finally sits up. “I was just caught up in the moment—I’m sorry—I shouldn’t have—”

“Honey,” you giggle, sitting up with him. “I told you I liked it.”

“You weren’t just saying that?”

“I don’t think I would’ve came that hard if I didn’t like it.”

His eyes brighten before adding, “I guess so.” It genuinely was one of the strongest orgasms you’ve ever had. Surely, he has to know that, right? But wait—

“Was it good for you?”

“Oh my god,” he’s finally relaxed a little, peppering your face with kisses. “That was the best orgasm I’ve ever had, I swear.” He stands, walking into his en-suite to get you a towel, damp with warm water. “So…” he starts awkwardly. “Should we, like, report this to the dean?”

“Is that your way of asking me to be exclusive?” He blushes as you brush some of his hair behind his ear. “Because my answer is absolutely.” You press your lips together. “Although, can we hold off for a while? Just until next semester starts?”

“Be in our own little world for a bit?” He smiles, wrapping his arms around your waist. “You’re taking a break until next semester, right? Are you working right now?”

“No,” you shake your head. “I got a bunch of scholarships to pay for school,” you say proudly.

“Why am I not surprised?”

“Because I’m the smartest person you know,” you say cheekily.

“No lectures until next semester, so I’m pretty much free.” He smiles, clearly wanting to say something more, but bites his tongue. “Can I ask you something?” You nod. “This may be moving way too fast, but do you maybe wanna spend the holidays here? With me?”

The next few weeks are a whirlwind. Both of you admit it’s too fast. But neither of you care. The fireplace roars as you decorate his Christmas tree together, wrapped presents, baked cookies, everything you could think of that ooey-gooey couples do.

And of course, nightly sex is a bonus. You simply can’t get enough of each other. And you just about lose it when you walk into the kitchen on Christmas morning. He’s standing at the counter wearing a Santa hat, flannel pajama pants, and a black tank top making your favorite tea.

“Ah, there she is! Good morning,” he says with a smile. You take a plate full of chocolate chip waffles from him. But not before he kisses you. Cupping your cheek, he pulls you into perhaps the sweetest kiss you’ve ever had. You can feel his smile on your lips.

And everything feels absolutely perfect. You think you may be dreaming, but he feels so very real at this moment. And his voice is clear as day, “Merry Christmas.”

#hp's writing 🪲#soobin smut #soobin hard thoughts #soobin hard hours #txt smut #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #choi soobin #chubby reader #soobin x reader #soobin ff #soobin fic #soobin fanfic #soobin x chubby reader #kpop ff #kpop fanfic #kpop fic #kpop smut

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skzdarlings · 10 months ago

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i do ; skz ; felix x reader

requested by anonymous: ' I would love if you could use these prompts...on Felix x fem reader:❛ i love that no one else has seen you like this, that no one else has felt you before, been inside you. they don't get to have you, but i do. ❜❛ you're mine. you've always been mine. ❜I love possessive Felix, istg i would give amything to have him' plus two anonymous requests for: 'i'd say you need someone to put you in your place' for felix.

pairing: lee felix/reader content info: look this request was for possessive!felix and so possessive!felix i delivered. he is a little weirdo in this tbh. but i think after all my anti-rich-guy stories, i have earned the right for one problematic possessive mafia boss who throws his money and his dick around hahaha. so yes, possessive!felix, virgin!reader, wedding night, arranged marriage, felix being a criminal boss, insta-love. reader's backstory involves a verbally abusive/neglectful family. explicit sexual content. word count: 4000 words.

masterlist. part of the valentine’s day stories series. credit to prompts. requests are closed.

enjoy <3

Your new husband is astoundingly pretty. You expected a different face to be waiting at the end of the wedding aisle: harsh, old, scarred. Maybe, if you let yourself fantasize, he would be handsome in a rugged way.

You were not expecting Felix. Slender, delicate Felix with his high cheekbones and freckles, his dark eyes and feather-soft blonde hair. He smiled a dimpled smile as your father surrendered your hand.

That surrender was a visual representation of a literal transaction. You were a bartering tool to save your father’s business. You knew an arranged marriage was inevitable when a few trades went sour and the company went bankrupt. The family could only maintain relevancy and safety through a match to someone more powerful.

Lee Felix is the heir to a very dirty criminal syndicate that blends in high society. Everyone knows their money is blood-spattered, but they throw a good party and the jewels sparkle the same.

You knew his name long before the wedding. Of course you knew his name. But you did not know his face. You expected a devil, not a vision of divinity, resplendent in white and gold.

Your heart has not stopped racing since he first lifted your veil and kissed you with lips softer and gentler than your grandest fantasies.

Now you are perched on a lavish bed in a beautiful penthouse suite. The walls are windows, externally tinted but offering you a glorious view of the glittering cityscape at night. You wonder how much of the city your new husband owns.

Would that be an impertinent question? It is not as though there is any real charade to play; this is not a love match and there is no sense pretending otherwise. Enquiring after financial assets is arguably appropriate insofar as business goes.

Then the door opens and your new husband enters. All thoughts of business flitter into nothing, an insignificant detail next to your wedding night. A night with this powerful and beautiful stranger.

“Are you nervous?” he asks in a voice so deep it keeps surprising you. It suits his angelic appearance in a way, something so captivating about its low tones, effortlessly melodic. But that melody is coloured darkly in its depth, scratching a shiver up your spine. When he speaks, it feels like he is trailing his fingers up your back in a curious, searching touch.

He looks at you with as much depth, dark eyes penetrating as he circles the bed. He has been nothing but polite, but you can’t help but feel like prey being circled by a predator.

Even more concerning, you can’t help but like it. Since the moment he took your hand, his eyes have not left you. It is almost overwhelming. You have been invisible your whole life. No one ever looked at you. No one ever wanted you. Your father scared off anyone who tried.

Felix is not just anyone. Anyone sensible would be scared of him.

You are also not just anyone.

“No,” you answer.

“Really?” He lifts a curious eyebrow.

You are both in your wedding clothes, all white and gold. Your veil is draped over a chair in the corner. He puts his coat there too.

He never looks away from you, rolling his shirtsleeves up his forearms as he approaches the bed.

“May I ask, why not?” he asks. It’s a funny question, so polite but only posed because he knows his own reputation. He knows what you must think of him. The bloodshed, the ruthlessness, the merciless command he holds over his family’s legacy. He might look unassuming, but he is not to be trifled with. That gentle exterior could be unnerving to some people, even more than an outward brute.

But you have dealt with those brutes your whole life. An abusive father, cruel brother, an uncaring mother. Hurt, neglected, ignored.

Tonight, while you circled the reception to greet everyone, your father and brother pulled you aside. Your mother had already berated you on the details of your appearance, but they were reprimanding you for every other misstep.

You almost burst into tears, tired and frightened. You were so afraid you would never escape them. Even at your wedding, on the cusp of a new life, they were dragging you around, kicking and screaming.

Then you felt a tap on your shoulder. Bang Chan, one of Felix’s most trusted agents, stood there with a forced but cordial smile. He looked at you and not your family.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he said. “Your husband is asking for you. Please, come with me.”

Your father sputtered indignantly, unaccustomed to such blatant disrespect for his authority. Chan said nothing to him, simply offered you his arm. He also opened his jacket to flash the gun in his chest holster. Your family had their weapons stripped before entering the reception. It was a subtle reminder of who was really in charge.

So your father and brother were left sputtering helplessly as Chan escorted you across the room. Felix was sitting with some of his men, smiling his bright smile and looking like any happy young groom.

That sunny face faltered when he saw your morose expression. His glance passed to your family, a flicker of anger in his gaze. Then he smiled at you and held out a welcoming arm.

“Come here,” he said. “Sit with me a bit. Please.” That deep voice. You felt it like a touch inside you. He had recited the scripted vows earlier. This invitation was his first real address.

You nodded. Your legs were shaky from the confrontation, never mind the wobble from your heels. Your feet hurt. Sitting would be a relief if nothing else.

There was an empty seat behind Felix. It was the type of seat you were usually given: at the back where you could be forgotten.

Once you were within reach, Felix grabbed you around the waist. Your breath caught as you stumbled towards him. He caught you and held you. Then you were sitting in his lap, your dress draped everywhere, a glittering ivory prize perched safe and pretty on his knee. He wrapped a possessive arm around your middle.

It was more than a power play. It was one thing to put you on his lap and show your family that he owned you now, but it was another for him to frown as he touched the painfully tight pearl belt around your waist.

“Why is this so tight?” he asked, looking at you with concern.

“I’m sorry,” you said automatically, in the habit of grovelling whenever someone took a disappointed tone. “My mother,” you spoke softly, not wanting the rest of the table to hear.

He leaned closer to you, offering you his ear directly. A whisper was all you managed, unaccustomed to such attention.

“They’re real pearls,” you whispered. “Very expensive. Very fine. Too fine for me. My mother had the belt made small so I would remember to act worthy of them. Sit straight. Not over-eat. You know.”

He frowned, his brow furrowing. Instinct compelled you to soothe that displeasure, laughing like you were not upset.

“It’s all right,” you said. “She’s right. They are very fine pearls.”

“It’s not all right,” Felix said. He looked at you, held your gaze in his own. You found yourself counting his freckles. “Do you like it?” he asked.

Maybe it was his display of power. Maybe it was his arm around you. Maybe it was the freckles. He looked so sweet, so sincere. You could not bring yourself to lie. Though you had defended your cruel family all your life, the truth fell from your lips in a rough exhale.

“No.” You felt tears in your eyes. “I know it’s expensive. I know it’s beautiful. But I’ve never hated anything more.”

He held your gaze, your watery eyes in the dark depths of his own.

Then he grabbed the belt by a thin material strand and yanked. A couple pearls popped right off and scattered. The rest dangled on the belt, an absurd amount of wealth in his hand.

Felix tossed it over his shoulder like it was garbage. Then he wrapped his arm around your waist and held you against him.

You chanced a look at your family. They were scandalized. Horrified. And you breathed easier for the first time in a long time. You have long suffered the oppressive strangle of control masquerading as love. His protective arm felt nothing like that pearl belt.

So you look at him now. You strive to articulate all these feelings. You are not used to speaking and having someone listen.

“I can’t explain it,” you say. “Maybe it’s foolish. But I… I just feel like I was meant to be here. With you. Like this.”

Your heart jumps at his expression, a luminous pleasure that brightens this dimly lit room.

“That’s funny,” he says. “I feel the same way.”

You swallow as he sits beside you. Slowly, touch by touch, breath by breath, he is bringing your bodies together. His knee touches yours, his arm your arm. He folds his hands in his lap but he is close enough you can count his freckles again.

“I need to be honest with you,” he says. “I’ve wanted you since I first saw you. A year ago. At the winter masquerade.”

You look at him with surprise. All at once, his eyes come back to you, gazing at you behind a golden bird mask at the annual winter social. You couldn’t place the handsome stranger at the time. His hair was dark then, his face in a mask. He did not speak. His distinctive voice would have given him away.

He danced one dance with you, the only person who danced with you all night. You were later reprimanded for behaving like a slut, even though he touched your waist and nothing more.

“You were very kind,” he says. “I watched you with the staff. You were the only one in that whole room to say please and thank you to them – did you know that?” He sighs and looks away, thoughts travelling beyond this room. “I came from nothing,” he says. “My family… we fought to get where we are now. But I remember, you know. What it feels like to be the smallest and least important person in the room.”

You sit straighter when he looks at you. Oh, your heart has not slowed its thunder. Excitement and affection swirl together in a motley tempest of sensation, touched by his words and yearning for more. You thought you had been sold to an uncaring bidder, but Felix touches you slowly, like he would a very fine work of art. His knuckles caress your cheek, the slope of your jaw.

“I thought…” He looks at you reverently. “I thought… I would do anything to preserve that goodness. I would protect it. Like your family wasn’t.” His brow furrows now, a shadow of his face. “They would have ruined you.”

His hand continues, knuckles skimming down your throat, your shoulder, your arm. You shiver. He has a terrible scar, scoring the whole back of his hand. A stark difference to your unblemished hand, your manicured nails against his calloused fingers.

He says, “I know what it’s like to be ruined.”

You look from your hands to his face, his handsome profile, the slope of his nose and his soft lips. He is still looking at your joined hands.

“I wasn’t always like this,” he says. “I’d give anything to have my innocence back. But I can’t.”

He lifts your hand, cradles it between both of his like something precious. Your breath catches when he kisses your palm, lips soft against your skin.

“So I told myself, I would do anything to save yours,” he says. He looks almost… afraid. An expression you never expected to see on this man. “So I destroyed your father’s business,” he says. “It was all me. I knew he would never give you to a man like me unless he had no choice. He would have given you away to one of his friends and they would have broken you. But you were already mine. So I left him no choice but to see things my way.”

“Oh,” you say, surprised beyond all words.

“I wanted you to know before anything… happens… between us,” he says. “But I understand if your feeling are complicated. Or if you… fear me.”

Your father has often boasted how many men fear him. It does not sound like a boast from Felix, rather something lamentable. His face is shadowed in shame.

“My feelings are not complicated,” you say. He is still holding your hand in both of his. You lay your other hand there, a complete joining.

He meets your gaze, an intense and imploring stare.

“I’m not my father’s daughter anymore,” you say. “I’m my husband’s wife. My loyalty is to you. My place is with you.”

“Yes,” he says, spoken on a breath. His smile returns. “Your place. I’d say you need someone to put you in your place. Your rightful place.”

He springs off the bed like there is lightning under his feet. He is all smiles and sunlight again, a beacon in the blue dark of this room. You cannot help but bask in his warmth, bereft in the chill when he leaves your side.

He takes something from his discarded coat pocket, a case swathed in velvet, soft to the touch. You hold it, admiring the texture.

He kneels behind you on the bed while you open it. Inside is the most breathtaking necklace you have ever seen in your life. When you lift it, the chain is long, designed to sit low, loose around your neck. No more chokers. No more pearls.

“Oh, Felix,” you say, breathless and amazed, then very embarrassed. You are not used to such lovely gifts. Even the pearls were a punishment. “I can’t accept this…” you say, stunned.

“You can,” he says.

He takes the clasp then strings the necklace around you. His fingers on the nape of your neck have you shivering. The necklace clasps in place, then his lips are on your neck, a chaste press that nonetheless lights fire under your skin. “It was made for you,” he says. “Like you were made for me.”

He takes the zipper of your gown between two careful fingers, so slowly lowering it. It feels like you are unravelling with it. The zipper reaches the base of your spine and his fingertips dance across your bare skin.

He steps off the bed. He looks down at you, his eyes intense but his smile soft. He touches your cheek, strokes his thumb across it lovingly.

Then he is sinking to his knees in front of you. You already feel weak as jelly, but your whole body goes soft and pliant when he gently grasps your ankle, when he slides your painful shoe off your foot and tosses it aside. He somehow finds every sore spot and rubs it better.

“This is how it works,” he says. He is on his knees but somehow his presence looms bigger than you. You cannot look away from the thrall of his gaze. “You are my wife. And when we are out there, I am your servant.” He takes your other foot and removes that shoe as well. He massages you gently. “I will never deny you anything,” he says. “You can ask me for anything. All right? I will give you the whole world. I will give you my whole heart. In return, I only want one thing.”

“What’s that?” you ask, already breathless.

“I am your husband,” he says, “and in here, you are my servant. Only I can touch you. Only I will have you. All of you. In every way. Always, starting from today. Starting from right now.”

“Yes. Yes. But I – I’ve never done this before,” you say, aching to surrender but fearful he will regret this. Though you are knowledgeable, you are lacking in experience from years of isolation. “I’ve been alone for so long,” you say. “I don’t want to disappoint you.”

“You don’t,” he says. He lifts your leg, swoops down to kiss your calf, then higher: your knee, your thigh. “You could never,” he says, guiding your leg to rest on his shoulder. He gathers the volume of your wedding dress in his hands and pushes it up, up.

You almost forget to breathe. He kisses higher on your thigh. Then he grabs the thin material of your white tights and rips them open.

“You’re mine,” he says. “You’ve always been mine.”

You fall back on your elbows, limbs already quivering as he tears through your underclothes as if impatiently ripping open a prettily wrapped gift. With your expensive lace panties shredded and your tights in tatters, he pushes your skirts up and out of his way. You hold them while he kisses up your thigh. He runs his tongue along the seam between your thigh and somewhere much more sensitive.

“No one else has done this to you?” he asks. He already looks flushed. Desperate.

“No,” you answer. You swallow hard. “Never.” You know some men do not enjoy providing this type of pleasure to their wives, so you are about to tell him that you have no expectations in that regard—

But then he is on you like a starving man, eyes closed and mouth open and licking through all that wet desire. You fall on your back, pressing your heel into his back. He groans, pressing deeper, tongue seeking, swiping, stroking.

He grips your thighs possessively, holding you in place as he ravages you with his mouth. He takes you up and over a blissful crest. It leaves you a drenched and panting mess.

He stands, wiping his arm across his wet mouth. He does not look satisfied, eyes still hungry as he climbs on top of you.

“My wife,” he says, like the word is sacred and impossible, like he thought a man like him could never say it. “All mine,” he says, running his hands up your thighs, up your waist, touching every inch of you until he is cradling your face delicately in his careful but calloused hands.

It makes your whole body clench up tightly, your breath stuttering as he kisses you. You melt into the kiss, so different from the chaste peck of your ceremony. It is a claiming kiss, the taste of you still on his lips, his moan in your mouth, his chest against yours as those sounds of pleasure rumble through him.

He tugs down your bodice, then he is ripping through your underclothes again. When your bodice is around your waist and your chest is bare except for his necklace, you find yourself covering your breasts instinctively. He takes your hands, not forcefully but firmly, holding your gaze. His mouth is already so pink and raw from kissing. You wonder if you look as ravished. Maybe more. It makes you whimper, surrendering when he pins your hands on either side of your head.

“This is mine,” he says, kissing your jaw, your throat, then lower. “All mine, sweetheart.”

He wraps his lips around a pointed nipple and you feel the reaction between your legs, as if connected by a thread. Your legs try to close around his hips but he presses down. The crumpled skirt of your dress is between you, but he feels your thighs clenching, feels you desperately bucking.

Even his chuckle is a deep sound. He smiles at you, batting his eyelashes as he licks the curve of your breast. Your whole body twitches again.

“Mm,” he says. “You feel that? You getting all tight… and hot… just for me…”

“Felix,” you say, you beg.

He sits back on his heels to get your wedding dress off. It is a flurry of ivory and silk, earning some laughter, then it is gone and your husband is staring down at you. Again, you feel like prey, like a meal spread out helplessly for some predatory creature. Again, you like it.

He is just as impatient with his own clothes. He does not look away from you while tearing his shirt open. Buttons fly, forgotten, and he rips the material down his arms and off. His belt is next, leather whistling through the air then joining the heap on the floor. He grabs your hand and guides it to the hard shape in his white pants, groaning deep in his chest as your palm curves around it.

You are so captivated him, by the way he feels, by the sounds he makes, that you are surprised when he touches you too. Your legs part instinctively, then your thighs twitch to close when you are embarrassed by your eagerness.

“Don’t be shy,” he says. “Not with me.” His fingers feel divine inside you, gliding as if through silk, pressing at your walls and making you whimper. “Yeah, my baby. So nice… ‘n wet… for me…” he murmurs, more to himself than you. It still makes you clench, like your body wants him deeper, pulling tight around him. “God. Perfect.”

“Aren’t we g-gonna—” Your eyes drop to his waistband, then up to his eyes again.

He smiles, laughs, and withdraws his fingers slowly.

“Oh yeah, sweetheart,” he says, unbuttoning his pants. “We are. Be patient. You’re gonna enjoy this. Gonna remember this night forever.” He leans down so his body is over yours. He kisses you, presses you into the pillows. When he pulls back, he traces a finger along the necklace, smiling brightly. “The first time I made you mine,” he says, speaking low and soft against your lips. “I’m going to do everything with you,” he says. “And you’re gonna want it. All of it and more.”

He has you begging for more already. When he finally is pushing inside you, after so much torturous build-up, you are a breathless, sweaty tangle of limbs. It feels like he is pinning you to the mattress, taking you so deep and so hard, like your whole body is changing to fit him. There is a long, slow burn, but you are so wet and he is so careful; it is an ache that gives way to pleasure.

His arms are around you, holding him above you, making you feel so completely shielded and enveloped. He starts a slow pace that turns more frantic. Your hands move all over his chest and shoulders to find a grip.

“I love that no one else has seen you like this,” he says, grabbing your searching hand. He brings it to his mouth, kisses your palm, your fingers. He puts your hand on his shoulder, then he slides his hand under your head to cup your neck, holding you steady while he rolls his hips into yours. “That no one else has felt you before,” he says. “Been inside you. They don't get to have you, but I do.“

“Yes,” you say. “Always. My husband.”

“Mm.” He drops his forehead to yours. “My wife.”

You come again but it feels different, starting deep inside you and rolling outward, a full-body spasm that has you crying out his name. He comes too, holding you against him, his lips on your neck as he says your name.

Then he kisses you. Then he lays you down. He wraps you in his arms and squeezes.

“Sleep for now,” he says. “It’s been a long day. And I want you again.”

“You have me,” you say, nestling in his arms, your head under his chin.

“Yes,” he says with a smile. He looks so sweet even while his wicked hands hold your body in a strong, possessive grip. “I do.”

#lee felix x reader #felix x reader #lee felix smut #felix smut #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #skz smut #stray kids smut #lee felix x you #felix x you #valentinesdaystories

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pasteidolons · 4 months ago

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aphelion - hjs

pairing: archaeologist!hong jisoo x curator!reader genre: angst, smut, fluff, short story other characters: kim mingyu, xu minghao, choi seungcheol, park sooyoung, kang seulgi warnings: afab reader, alcohol use, cursing, smut (oral, p in v sex), people not able to talk out their feelings word count: 13.5k summary: the past catches up to you at an archeology exhibit in the italian town of pompeii. feelings trapped and unknown come to light when you end up face to face with someone you thought you’d never see again.

It’s not that the Italian sun is unfamiliar to you, you’d basked in its glow on a handful of occasions as you had traveled and worked in this country rich in both wine and history. The sun bearing down on you isn’t harsh, but it isn’t kind either, its soft rays acting to lull you into a dreamlike state of relaxation and wonder as it swallows the fluorescent lights of the airport as the sliding glass doors lead you outside and into its heat. Stone pines reaching towards the heavens, it is a strangely comforting feeling to see them looming above the cypress trees that adorn the landscape around the Naples airport. Maybe it’s you just thankful to be back on solid ground, the flight had been turbulent and the line at customs hellish. All you really want is a nap.

“Oh my god I can’t believe we made it,” hand finding the rim of a jet-black pair of Ray Bans, Park Sooyoung’s attention is drawn to the bright sky above, cloudless and blue as it reflects in the lenses of her glasses. “How long is the drive to the house?”

You and your friend had met up a few days earlier in order to travel together to an archeological conference in the historical hotspot of Pompeii. She, being an archivist in New York, and you, being one in London, had rarely seen each other since your grad school days and took this as an opportunity to convene with another friend, Mingyu, and play catch-up. It isn’t the most ideal of circumstances, since this is a work trip, but you’ll take what you can get in stride and hope for the best.

Papers folding and bending against each other as the pair of you stroll through the exit terminal, various cars and buses aligning the strip to both pick up and drop off passengers, you sigh, “Half an hour?”

The now meaningless plane tickets and visa information are now tucked away in a pocket of your bag, gone to the world until you’ll need it again to assess your travel information for reimbursement purposes. Flying on the company dime isn’t something you’re unwilling to do.

From what your phone had told you and the various guides that had tried to help in the airport, you’re looking at a relatively short journey to the home you’ll be staying in. Your other hand holds the grip of your rolling suitcase as it trails behind you, clicking against the tile underfoot, “Although, Mingyu said that he could drive extra fast if we needed to get there sooner.”

The only way you can tell that your friend’s eyes had widened is from her eyebrows peeking out from the top of her sunglasses and her mouth left slightly agape at your statement, “No thanks. If it’s anything like it was back in New York, I’d prefer to live this weekend.”

Small laugh escaping you, you know she’s excited to see him, but she’d never admit as much. “He said he’d be under the Alitalia sign,” eyes scanning the cars but more importantly the faces of the drivers to try and determine a recognizable one among the masses.

“There he is!” Sooyoung’s voice, shrill and excited, calls out as she rushes over to a small red Fiat parked parallel between two large tour buses. A roll of your eyes at how obvious she’s being, it isn’t tooth rottingly sweet, but it is certainly something.

He’s leaning atop the small car’s hood when he hears the delighted call of your friend, eyes trailing upwards from the phone in his hand and a dimpled smile gracing his lips as he watches the two of you walking closer. “I was starting to think you took the wrong plane.” Phone slipped into his pocket, Mingyu pushes himself off the car and begins to walk towards you.

Sooyoung’s arms quickly wrap around his neck as she leaves you to catch her falling suitcase, a short ‘tch’-ing from your lips as she lets go of him and returns to her bag. “We got caught up in customs,” a step forward and you sling your arm around his neck in a quick hug before releasing him, “who knew July was prime tourist time?”

“The perfect reason to have a conference, huh?” He laughs, glancing towards Sooyoung’s and your luggage. “I’m not too sure all of this will fit in the trunk; someone might be stuck with it in the backseat.”

And that’s how you find yourself, head pressed up against the window as the rolling hills of the Italian countryside pass to your left, while a mountain of a collection of both Sooyoung and your baggage peeks into your periphery. Headphone in your right ear, you’d been listening to a podcast on your flight detailing different religions around the world and were continuing on listening to one detailing the festivities of the Roman holiday Saturnalia.

As you listen to how, while a merry tradition, it held underlying themes of human sacrifices and the benevolence/maleficence of the gods, you find yourself slowly nodding off as you press the side of your head against the glass of the window and close your eyes. Not before eyeing Mingyu looking over at Sooyoung with a smile on his face as her attention is rapt upon him. You’d made a bet with him when the three of you had first been acquainted as to just how long it would take him to ask her out. The way they look at each other is something you think only found in movies, it makes you yearn for an affection you don’t quite have in your life. Although you’d lost that bet, as they hadn’t so much as gone on a date, you can tell they’re just too chicken with one another to say anything.

The darkness of sleep quelled when Sooyoung quietly rouses you as she gently shakes your knee with her hand. She’s turned to look at you when your eyes crack open and the golden glow of the afternoon haloes her to make her look even more ethereal.

“Your forehead looks bruised,” a smile, more so caring than anything malevolent, on her lips as she knows how you’d barely slept the entire flight. “Mingyu said we’ll be there in a few minutes.”

A look out the window and you realize that the scenery has shifted significantly, becoming rockier as the sight of the mountain is now far more in view than it was when you’d fallen asleep.

“The house is on the southern end of Vesuvius, it’s actually pretty close to the ruins if you have time to visit while you’re here,” Mingyu notes, knowing how much Roman history had enthralled you in your earlier years of work.

“We’ve got a few days,” Sooyoung ponders as if she’d already planned out her free days at the conference, “I’m sure we can squeeze it in.”

Eventually the car winds its way through some narrow street at the base of the mountain and you come upon a small, rustic looking house. The walls are old, obviously not built in this century, but look well cared for. There is a small walkway leading around the side of the house and you wonder where it’ll take you, but most of your attention is focused on pulling your bags from Mingyu’s car.

“Your room’s the second door on the right after you go up the stairs,” Mingyu says as you make your way to the front door as he was now struggling with the weight of Sooyoung’s bags in his grasp.

After rolling your eyes at him you make your way inside, the dark wooden floors and pale beige walls greeting you rather plainly. There is something elegant about the simplicity, but your attention now lies on not losing your center of balance as you haul your bags up the narrow staircase. You follow his directions and move down the hallway and come to your room, bed made and the last glittering rays of sunlight peek in through the curtains on the singular window above the bed. It’s quaint and homely, something you hadn’t had for a very long time as you think to the dismal apartment you keep London.

You descend the flight of stairs, thankful that you don’t have to tote any more luggage up from the car, and make your way into the kitchen. Perhaps you’d hoped to grab a glass of water, yet your actions halt when you see the figure of and older woman standing at the kitchen counter with several canvas bags in hand. She smiles and gives you a small wave while cheerily saying “Buona serata!”

Returning the gesture with a mumbled “Buona serata,” of your own, you skirt around the edge of the kitchen to grab a glass and pour yourself some water from a nearby pitcher.

“My landlord likes to come over every Friday to cook,” A voice from your right and you glance over and notice Mingyu standing beside you. “She says it’s because her family’s grown up now and she needs someone to care for.” A nod of your head as you watch the older woman unpack her canvas grocery bags, the contents full of things both familiar and foreign.

“Grazie mamma,” Mingyu smiles and walks forward, seeming to want to help his landlord in her cooking ventures. His helpful hands are eventually swatted away, her saying something rapid but you get the gist that she doesn’t need any aid.

“What’s she making?” you ask as you catch sight of Sooyoung walk into the kitchen, almost as pale as a sheet as she makes way over to your side.

There’s a gentle tugging at your shirt as Mingyu questions his landlord. A glance to Sooyoung and she mouths ‘We need to talk’ before getting interrupted with Mingyu saying, “Chicken cacciatore with polenta, I think?” A buzz from his pocket and he looks at his phone, “My roommate’ll join us in a little while. He’s on his way back from a dig and shouldn’t be too long.”

Mingyu hadn’t mentioned his roommate too much, just said they’d met when their team was assembled to scour Site V in the ruins of Pompeii and they’d become fast friends. They’d been living with each other for almost a year now and you can't even recall the name even after Mingyu had probably mentioned it a handful of times when you’d talked over the phone.

“Sounds good,” you smile, tugging at your shirt becoming a little more forceful as the urgency in Sooyoung’s eyes is more prevalent. The landlord says something to Mingyu, and he answers with a nod and leaves the kitchen and heads into the living room. “What is it?” After a moment’s calm you turn to your friend, corners of your mouth turning downwards.

“I left my moisturizer at the hotel in Warsaw,” a gentle tugging again, pleading as she speaks once more, “Can I borrow yours?” The soft strums of a guitar and melancholy vocals of a woman emanating from the room Mingyu had left to go to, the landlord must’ve asked him to put on music.

“Is that what you were so weird about?” A gentle scoff leaving your lips as you nod, “Yeah, it’s in my-”

“I know!” She’s already bounding up the stairs and leaves you with the last of your sentence still in your throat.

“She hasn’t changed much, has she?” Mingyu asks as he reenters the kitchen. His gaze lingers on where Sooyoung once stood, a ghost of a smile noted by his dimples.

“Not one bit.” You note, “But you haven’t either, Mr. Kim. Your head is still stuck on Rome and on her.”

“She’s not-?”

“Dating anyone?” You interrupt at his worried tone, “No. Unless she’s got some hunk back in her lab.” A look of relief on his brow as you take a sip of water, “You know, you really should ask her out. She was excited to see you again.”

“It’s just,” a hum as he pauses to ruminate on his thoughts, “She’s all the way in New York and I’m here for who knows how long. It’d be difficult and I wouldn’t want to put that on a new relationship.”

“If you don’t think she’d pack her bags and move here you’d be lying to yourself,” A shake of your head as the sound of Sooyoung descending the staircase echoes around the small kitchen and brings your conversation to a stop. “It’s also Italy, for God’s sake.”

“I think your roommate’s here,” Sooyoung announces, stating that she’d seen a car pull into the already cozy driveway and turn its headlights off. Almost right as she finishes her sentence the sound of the front door opening catches everyone but the landlord’s attention, as she is too busy cooking and humming along to the music coming from the other room.

It’s funny how the memory of someone can stay so far gone in the depths of your subconscious that you can very well forget about them until they’re standing right in front of you. A fleeting glimpse into who and what you were before you’d blossomed into a more mature adulthood staring at you with eyes equally surprised as your own. A small ‘o’ shape of your mouth mirroring; the tousled hair, button down linen shirt and dust and dirt that clings to his khakis almost pulling you from the anchoring weight of the past. A small smile as he looks to Mingyu, the landlord and Sooyoung before hoisting a bottle of wine in the air, “I didn’t want to come in empty handed for our guests.”

“There he is,” Mingyu nods to the former, “This is my roommate Josh, we’re both partnered up on the same dig team.”

Jisoo. His name is Jisoo. “It’s-” you begin but falter almost immediately, unknowing if your friend is aware of the lingering history between both you and his roommate.

“Nice to meet you,” an interjection from Sooyoung as she nods towards Jisoo, eyes trailing down to the bottle in his hand. “Would you mind if we crack that open now? It’s been a long day.”

Dinner had gone and passed more jovial than you’d thought it would, despite the coldness emanating from Jisoo who sits at the opposite end of the table as you. Fingers fiddling with the fork of your dessert plate, you prod at the panacotta lying half eaten in front of you as your appetite had been sated the moment Jisoo said that it was his favorite dessert.

Maybe he notices the lull in conversation, the sound of crickets chirping rising over the once chattering group, “So where did you and Josh meet?” Attention more turned towards Sooyoung rather than to yourself. Maybe it’s a slight to you but you don’t blame him, it only furthered the aching feeling in your chest as you bring your glass to your lips and drink the fiery vintage.

“We were all three interning together in New York our- what- senior year of college?” Sooyoung muses, lifting her wine glass to her mouth and taking a small sip, twirling the remnants of the local Lacryma Christi wine to aerate it further once she’d finished drinking. “Right?” She looks to Mingyu, who’s toying with another bottle of wine behind the three of you. The small bottle opener in hand, he only replies with a simple ‘Yeah,’ before furrowing his brow and setting back to try and uncork the stubborn bottle.

Elbows on the table as a flushed Jisoo leans in, “Where did you go to school?” He had always held his alcohol well, had something changed since you’d last seen him? Jisoo seems far more tipsy than he should be after two glasses of wine.

“It’s a small all girl’s school you’ve probably never heard of,” A wave of her hand as she sets her glass down onto the wooden table. “What about you?”

“Hamilton,” A glance to you, brief and painful, before he turns back to your friend, “But I also studied abroad in Korea for a little bit too.”

“Ah, you went there too. And you also studied abroad, right?” Sooyoung looks to you, brow raised in question as her index finger circles the top of her glass, inviting a response that you never wanted to give. “Did you know each other?”

“We knew of each other.” The sound of Mingyu pulling the cork from its home resonates around the small kitchen as you speak.

It was a Tuesday night, you’d just started watching Derry Girls and the cooling cycle of your AC unit had just kicked up with its trilling noise when a text on your phone buzzed, the words of the infamous “You up?” blaring across the screen in bold black letters. It was 10:47PM and you had a nine am the next day, you really shouldn’t respond. You could say no, say that you’re tired and want to go to bed instead of fucking your friend for the umpteenth time when he was trying to get over some girl he’d been chasing after on and off for your whole college career. But you didn’t, you wouldn’t ever because there’s that undeniable loneliness you had where human affection is a sought-after substance when you refused to forge the intimate bonds that held a man close to a woman. Or a man to a man. Or woman to a woman. Or to whoever preferred whoever. You aren’t one to judge.

Leaving the text for a moment, maybe two, to ruminate and stew in the Atmos of the unknown you responded saying “Only if you’ve got a bottle with my name on it.” Phone discarded onto your sofa you didn’t move again until he replied that he’d be over soon.

And with that you were off to the races to tidy up, clean bits and wipe of counters and take out the trash as you know he’s either on his way to the store, or already there, to pick up the treasured Cabernet Sauvignon that tasted of regret and unspoken vows the next morning. It was a solemn ritual; you’d drink as he lamented over the girl (half a bottle each), listen to music that both of you liked, he’d tell you the same story of him and his brother getting trapped in a tree as a child (because he obviously hadn’t ever told you this tale before), some film he’d watched once and couldn’t remember playing as the backdrop, and at some point he’d start playing with your hair. Long and slender digits patting, running through and twirling the strands that fell around your face, you weren’t even sure if this was done subconsciously or not. Not that you really cared anyway. Fingertips gently grazing your shoulder in the glow of the tv, then your cheek, then your lips as his hand slipped under your chin and your mouths clash together in a wanton want for something constant. And then you’d have to excuse yourself to the bathroom to make sure you looked a presentable mess in your drunkenness.

Cheeks warmed with the wine trapped inside of you, maybe you’d had a little too much as your hand reached out to steady yourself on the counter as your other moved to brush a few strands of hair from your forehead. Fingers danced over your lips as the fiery feeling of his atop yours hadn’t quite left your system yet, you would laugh at yourself tomorrow for relishing in it but the you of now would soak up this limelight as this was the first time this semester this had happened. You had begun to wonder if it would again before his text tonight. Another look at your phone and it was nearing 1:30, a drowsiness in your system accompanied by the lull of the red had you stifling a yawn behind a hand raised to your mouth.

He’s in your bed by the time you exit the bathroom. Eyes shut and slow breathing as the woes of the world were only that of it spinning greatly on its axis. Conceptual in nature you never sought to feel anything more than just a friendship with him. Sure, it was a friendship that was deeply ingrained in fucking each other to take your mind off whatever was troubling you at the time, but a friendship, nonetheless.

You stood in the glow of the streetlights bleeding in from the outside, a majority of his clothes had been strewn onto the floor, and yours were quick to follow. You were trying to get the damned hooks of your bra to unlatch when you heard him shift behind you.

“Allow me,” a smirk danced along his lips as he noticed you struggling with unlatching your bra. You relented as the palm of his hand landed on your lower back, sliding up leaving behind a trail of warmth. In a simple motion, he was able to unhook it with only one hand.

A short laugh as you shrugged off the garment, throwing it to the littered pile of clothes on the ground. You turned and found his lips, “Love that party trick of yours,” you murmured between kisses. With your right hand you gently pushed him backwards towards the bed.

As the backs of his knees hit the mattress, he fell back, but not before reaching to grab your hands to bring you down with him.

After a few more pecks with your chest flush against his, you sat up, straddling his lap as he chased your lips until he couldn't reach them anymore. Instead, his hands that were entwined with yours released their hold and traveled up your sides, finding anchor on your hips. It was then he began to gently guide your hips to move, you couldn’t help the moan that fell from your lips or the way your hips instinctively rolled over his painfully hard cock.

“I can feel you through the fabric,” he sighed out breathing heavily, he glanced down to where your bodies almost met, the wetness of your core seeping through the layers of cloth. “Is that all for me?”

“Only for you,” you murmured, knowing it would spur him further. “Just touch me more.”

With a newfound sense of purpose, he did. His right hand raised, his thumb brushed over your breast, his index finger moved as well to play with your hardening nipple. You found yourself shifted to the flat of your back when you let out a moan and he moved himself to hover over you, looking down at his hand gliding over your skin, any feeling of shyness quickly left him. His lips met yours as his hand slid back down your side, the other being used to leverage himself over you.

Something’s said, you’re not sure exactly what as it’s a mixture of words you do and do not understand. Jisoo’s lips lower, to your collarbone, through the valley of your breasts and down to your stomach. His hands find the sides of your hips, his own feet falling to the floor as he drags you to the side of the bed so that your knees and calves dangle over the edge. Fingers tangled through his dark and once coiffed locks as he lowered himself to your core, you couldn’t help but to try and quell your pounding heart.

“Help me with this part?” He asked quietly, hooking his fingers around the waistband of your underwear. You obliged willingly, raising your hips to let him slide off the cloth with ease. “Perfect,” you could hear the smirk in his voice.

His lips captured your bud and your back arched at the contact, his hands moved away from your breasts and down your sides to the insides of your thighs, gently pushing them apart.

His fingers run along your slick, gathering it as he releases your clit with a small pop before he pushes his index finger inside of you. After a moment, the word, “Move,” left you more enthusiastically than you anticipated. Yet he met your request with fervor, pumping his digit into you while you curled your fingers in his hair, gently tugging at his locks.

“Fuck–!” voice breathy as it leaves you, another finger, his middle, added to your core causing you to relinquish your hold on him to find your hands tangling atop the duvet.

“Do you feel good?” He questions almost teasingly, knowing the answer as you let out a string of words ebbing on profanity and proclamations of your feelings.

“I think– you know the answer–!” You tried to joke before you cried out as he pistons his hand faster, you feel yourself on the precipice of release. It's when he reattached his lips to you clit did the band snap within you and you cried out, your limbs had begun to tremble when he continued his movements, riding out your orgasm until you lightly nudged him away with your knee and he pulled his fingers from you.

“Come here,” you murmur as you sat up, holding your hands out to him as he rose from the edge of the bed to stand between your open legs. Your hands found the sides of his face and pulled him in for a kiss, the taste of you and him intermingling in your mouths. One of your hands slipped away from his face, traveling down his bare chest and towards the hem of his boxers.

“We don’t,” he stopped, lips parting from yours as he searched your eyes, his hand finding yours, “we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“I want to,” you nodded, head tilting slightly as if to gauge him, “do you not want to?”

“God, fuck,” he sighed under his breath as you caught your lower lip between your teeth, “Of course I do. Do you have a condom?”

“In the side drawer,” you said breathily as he stepped away, quickly fumbled in the dark for a moment before he procured the condom.

And with that he pressed his lips to yours once more and your back hit the mattress. Your teeth clicked together clumsily, but it was forgotten with a small laugh as your fingers traced the elastic of his waistband. He hovered over you, forearm holding up his upper body as he trapped yours within the confines of his knees, his free hand moved to help yours pull down his underwear.

The room was filled with tangible electricity, a palpable anticipation that hung heavy in the air as you both had shed the last remnants of clothing. Your skin tingled with anticipation, every touch sending shivers down your spine.

His lips found yours once more, urgent and hungry, as if trying to convey all the longing and desire that he’d been harboring towards that other girl for months. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as you lose yourself in the sensation of his lips moving against yours.

It’s then he pulled back, tearing open the condom’s wrapper and quickly rolling it onto himself. You watched his eager moments in amusement as you sat up, fascinated by how much he was willing to fuck. When he caught you looking, a deeper rooted desire overtook him and he came back to meet you at the side of your bed. Your hand went out to stroke him, but he caught your wrist, gently pushing it back onto the bed.

“Mine,” His breath hot on your skin as he leaned in, pushing you back onto your back, hive raspy tone sent chills shooting from your head to your toes as he aligned himself with you. The breath had been pulled from your throat, when he pushed himself inside. “Please say you’re mine.”

A strangled sort of laugh escaped you, unknowing why he was acting in such a possessive manner. “Just for tonight.”

As your bodies melded together, skin against skin, you lost yourself in the sensation of him, in the overwhelming intensity of your connection. Each touch, each kiss, sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, building to a crescendo that threatened to consume you both.

When you looked at him, a sheen of sweat on his forehead and his hair tousled from your hands running through it, your heart swelled with a feeling as if it were trying to crawl up your throat. The scent of pine and a shiver snaked itself up your spine. He removed his lips from the side of yours, looking down at you like a beholden idol, his hips snapped into you as he'd begun to chase his own high.

There was desperation in his kiss, and you hoped it wasn’t stemming from where you believed it to be. Your eyes screwed shut in abject ecstasy as your peak toppled you off of a high cliff, and it didn’t seem like Jisoo was too far off behind you.

“Oh fuck,” he groaned, pulling out of you. His fingers quickly moved around the condom and he pulled it off before wrapping his hand around himself. He stroked himself a few more times before you felt stripes of heat spurt onto your abdomen.

He stood for a moment, regaining his composure before he excused himself for a moment, returning from the bathroom with a damp washcloth and gently wiped it across your stomach to remove the essence of him. Jisoo then tossed the rag onto the floor and fell next to you on the mattress before wrapping his arm around you. His breath was warm against the back of your neck as your chest still heaved with the sighs and exhalations of pleasure.

The shock that came oh so prevalently to your features when he uttered the cursed “I think I love you” instead of the usual transition into a deep slumber.

Try as you might to steal him away from his yearnings and into the beguiling sin that engrossed you like a funeral shroud you shook your head with a, “No you don’t,” as you raised his hand to your lips and placed a chaste kiss onto his knuckles. A laugh as you were drunk on the spirit and freed inhibitions accompanying the acidic red scouring your veins. “You’re in love with the possibility of something loving and fucking you back.” In truth you weren’t sure if that’s it but repeating it to yourself and vocalizing it sure sounded better than facing your own crippling anxiety of it all.

Tensing under you as the brush of your lips atop his skin left him more flushed than not, “I just confessed to you and you’re telling me that I don’t love you?”

“I am,” a nod of your head as you turned atop the mattress to face him, his breath hot against your face while a confused expression settled into his. “You are far too drunk to be saying things like that and I’m far too drunk to want to accept them,” you reached your hand to caress his cheek before you felt his reach up to gently grasp around your wrist to pull it away.

“Are you saying you’ll love me when you’re sober?” The sensation of rough stubble beginning to emerge from his face still lingering on your fingertips, you closed your hand to staunch the feeling.

Scoff from your lips piercing him like an arrow, “I’ll love you when you start loving yourself over that girl.” The orange slants of lights bleeding in through your blinds from the street below your apartment was the only thing that illuminated the two of you. His hand fell away from your wrist and your hand dropped down onto the small space of mattress that distanced your body from his. “You’re too stupidly handsome to not love yourself.”

Quizzical smile playing on his lips as you felt his eyes peering into yours. “You think I’m handsome?”

“I’m pretty sure ninety nine percent of the population thinks you’re handsome, Jisoo.” A roll of your eyes as you turned onto your back, looking up at your pale ceiling, orange glow still emanating from outside.

“What about the other one percent?” As you moved to place your hand atop your stomach he asked, also moving to look up at the ceiling with you.

He was only the narcissist you knew him to be when you were alone with him. Joshua may have loved his physical appearance but was always critiquing his personality, his interactions with others. “Oh, they actually do think you’re handsome, they just haven’t realized it yet.”

“Can we just stay like this?” Breaths intermingled with the cool air of your apartment as he moved to take your hand in his, warmth emanated from his palms and danced atop his fingertips. “I don’t really feel like-”

“Yeah, of course,” an impending sense of dread ran cold through your once warm veins, an involuntary shiver coursed through you causing him to pull you in closer as he thought that you were just cold. You weren’t, just knew of what’s to come tomorrow.

He was gone by the time you woke up, morning light shining in as you had to hold a hand up to block it from permeating through your eyelids any longer. When your hand ran atop the cool mattress where he was supposed to be, a pang reverberated around your rib cage as you realized he must’ve been absent for some time. Normally after one of these nights the two of you would head to some diner that still sold breakfast around noon while you frantically typed away at an email telling your professor that you’d gotten food poisoning the night before and couldn’t make it to class. Now you were alone and void of the sense of urgency that skipping class tended to put on you.

As if he had impeccable timing, your phone buzzed on your nightstand, a notification detailing that you had several missed calls and unread texts. A sigh from your lips as you reached out to grab the device, swiping it unlocked and reading the last message he’d sent, “Blue @ 2?”

He’d already been seated when you walked into the dingy diner on the outskirts of your college town. Gaudy retro blue interior, a mockup of Elvis at the entrance and the small jukeboxes adorning each table just reminding you of all the times you’d sat in here, hungover and tired. Now you were hungover, tired and anxious. Jisoo was picking at a tray of fries as you slid into the booth, looking up to you as you sat, the vinyl squeaking as you moved atop it, “I didn’t hear you come in.”

There was a gritty, off sounding version of Israel Kamakawiwo'ole’s ‘Somewhere Over the Rainbow’ coming from the little jukebox to your right and you wondered if Joshua had fished out the quarters from his mess of a wallet for it to be playing. He knew it was one of your favorites. “I’m working on my stealth, might just drop out of college and become an international spy at this rate,” You smiled as you shrugged off your jacket.

A nervous smile on his lips, you hadn’t seen that since your freshman year and the whole debacle with that girl had started. Something was on his mind and you knew it would never come out unless you prodded first. Smile on your face faltered as an impending feeling of dread began to surge through you, “What is it?”

“What?” Eyes widening as he shoved a fry in his mouth, “Do I have something on my face?”

“Why did you ask me to come out when I know you’ve got a history or business class right now?”

“A Comprehensive Study of Italian Literature throughout the Eighteenth and Nineteenth Centuries.” Another fry eaten, he spoke with his mouth full, “It’s not really something I want to sit through every day. And I wanted to see you.”

“For?”

“Do I have to have a reason for wanting to?”

“You typically do.” A shrug of your shoulders as most of the reasons had been like the incident that spurred last night’s escapade, or to run over notes for an upcoming exam. And that one time where he’d asked you to look after a cat he’d been trying to smuggle into his no pets allowed apartment complex.

Silence as the cogs turn in his head, you can almost see them as he tries to vocalize his thoughts. “It’s about last night.” His hand rests atop the red basket that housed the last of the fries. He lets out a sigh, removing his hand and brushing it atop a nearby napkin, “I mean what I said.”

“Jisoo…” name faltered on your lips as you knew what was to come, “You know I’m not looking for that right now. And what about that girl? Isn’t that why you came over in the first place?” the dynamic shifting between the two of you with every word uttered out of this conversation. It was uncomfortable as you felt yourself pulling away when all he wanted to do is try to get closer to you. An anxiety running through you as your fingers clenched into fists atop your pant leg.

“That's why I came over. I realized I was looking for someone to replace you when all I ever needed was here.” His voice was quiet, calm and an air of shakiness interlaced through it.

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“I’m not really sure.” Humming as he took a glance out the window, gray clouds sweeping over the once verdant blue of the evening. “Are you really never going to give me a chance?” He still wasn’t looking at you, you weren't sure if he was able to.

It’s blurry now, the rest of that afternoon. It had begun to rain while the two of you sat in that diner, precipitation pelting the sides of the restaurant as you both made a haste escape to your apartment. Clothes littered on the floor as you somehow make your way into your bedroom, kisses both chaste and longing grazing your skin as your hands run through his now messy locks.

You hated how tender Jisoo was, how bittersweet his lips felt on yours as his hands caressed your sides as he pressed himself on top of you. Hated how he melted under you and careened for your touch even if you’d only lifted your hand from his seconds prior. There was a want inside of him that you could feel rearing to break free, but he was holding himself back, he always held himself back. He craved an affection you were unwilling to give, too reluctant to lose yourself to the possibility of him.

This wasn’t a goodbye; it was a plead for you to stay. With your sheets wrapped around you and strayaways of your hair clinging to the sides of your face you tell him to leave, you’re tired and need to get some sleep at some point because you've already missed too many classes. It pained and tormented you to push him away, he was a good friend, a good lover but you never once had the thought that he could hold that guarded place in your heart that had been untouched by anyone. You were afraid that you loved him back.

You hadn’t said a word to him since that afternoon. Nothing from him ever came to you either, the ties had been cut at that meeting and no trying to forage the relationship anew ever came. The two of you grew apart and became separate people, you never looked after him and you had no idea if he looked after you. There was some comfort you gave yourself in never seeking him out, you didn’t have to own up to the fact he existed anymore and that the assholishness of your years prior could remain a secret. But now faced with that undeniable presence of him back in your life you feel as if the pillars holding you aloft are beginning to crumble.

“With the earth is in aphelion we tend to lose ourselves, finding that even though it may be summer and memories of an us no longer presents itself, we question the now and want to return to the past. It’s a captivating notion, isn’t it? Take this time to reflect on yourself and the choices you’ve made to understand who you are now and who you were then.”

Roll of your eyes as the host begins to finish up her spiel of moving forward as it feels all too relating to your current situation. Hand moving to pause the podcast as you hear a gentle knock on your door. You’d finally gotten the back of your dress zippered up on your own after what felt like an eternity of it not budging those last few centimeters. “Come in,” you call out and Sooyoung opens the door right away.

“Are you almost ready?” She asks, looking stunning as ever in a simple sparkly nude dress, the v of the neck gives only little to imagine but she pulls it off with more grace than anyone else you could picture. “Mingyu’s getting the car ready so we should all head out soon.”

“Yeah,” you nod, glancing to the small standing mirror atop the wooden dresser. It wasn’t optimal lighting to pretty yourself up in but you’d dealt with worse.

“What’s aphelion?” She asks as she reaches for the door handle, eyes looking to the now black screen of your phone. “The lady on your podcast was talking about it.”

“It’s the furthest point away the earth is from the sun. We’re actually in it right now.” Musing as you move to toss your phone onto the bed, beside your purse that you’ll be using that night.

“Isn’t it summer though? If we’re at the furthest point, shouldn’t it be winter?”

A shrug of your shoulders as she opens the door, realizing your answer could probably be better recurved via a google search. “I couldn’t tell you,” muttering as you lean over to collect the pair of shoes strewn at your feet.

Sooyoung leaves as you begin to slide your heel into your shoe, once put on you stand for a moment on wobbly legs as you hate the way these events make you dress up for things. You feel like a newborn foal as you tiptoe your way to your purse and then to the door. Cracked open it lets a sliver of light in, then a shadow passing over it as someone walks by. “Sooyoung, did you-” thinking it was your friend returning to her room for something you open the door and look down the hall, only to find the widened eyes of Hong Joshua looking back. The two of you stare at each other, vocalizing internally a conversation that had yet to occur or maybe that had in your dreams. “I thought you were-,” a shake of your head as you wave it off. “I’m going now.”

“After you,” a hand motioning to the stairwell as you brush past him, palpitations thrumming so loudly inside your chest you’re surprised he can’t hear them.

When you get to the car you see that Sooyoung’s already in the passenger seat, scrolling through her phone as Mingyu messes with the radio of the car in a feeble attempt to get it working again. You slide into the backseat, your stomach dropping when the other backseat door opens and Jisoo gets in beside you. Never in your life had you wanted to be in a bigger car than you were in now.

It was an uncomfortable ride to the welcome party, Mingyu and Sooyoung made casual small talk whereas the back two seats lay dead silent as you try to cave in on yourself. Jisoo is everything you remember and everything you curse, the scent of his favored Jo Malone cologne soaking into you as you sit in the backseat has you reeling. You don’t even know they made the Amber and Lavender scent anymore. Nor were you aware that he could dress this nicely, he’d only followed the preppy boy trend back in college and at his best you think you could recall him wearing some Ralph Lauren polo to an outdoor event. That was the Jisoo you’d known. Not the dolled-up enigma that sits next to you, his knee lightly knocking into yours as the car moves over the bumpy streets.

You’re not sure which deity to thank as the Hotel Diane is only a twenty-minute venture from the house. Before anyone has the ability to assist you getting out of the car as you roll up to the entrance of the venue, you unbuckle your seatbelt and make a speedy retreat into the bowels of the conference. You can hear Sooyoung calling out after you as you race into the plethora of archeologists, researchers and everything in between. A sigh of relief as you find the restroom, locking yourself into one of the stalls as you try and sate your rapidly beating heart.

It was supposed to have stopped a long time ago, the regret and anguish over him. Yet the flame ignited once more when his eyes had met yours yesterday evening. You barely slept that night and you were plagued by memories the entirety of today. Hong Jisoo is a plague that you don’t want to give up. Or maybe the memory of him is, you know nothing of what became of him after the triste in college had ended and you had gone your separate ways.

“You look like shit,” Sooyoung’s voice hitting you almost as soon as you exit the bathroom, “Not your makeup or anything, that’s fine.” A hand raised as if sensing your aura or to generalize the vibe you were giving off, “Your expression though. What’s wrong?”

“Hm?” You blink, trying to mask the anxiety riddled through you with a confused façade. “Nothing, I just really had to use the restroom.”

“And it had nothing to do with the handsome man sitting in the backseat with you?” She poses as the two of you begin to walk through the atrium, sliding past other partygoers. As you near a catering staff member holding a tray of drinks, Sooyoung reaches out and plucks one off of the tray and hands it to you before getting one for herself, “You’ve been acting weird since last night.”

A sigh as you bring the glass to your lips, drinking as you stride forward into the main gala, a large room adjacent to the main atrium. “Seeing him just reminded me of school, is all,” It isn’t a complete lie, just not the wholehearted truth either.

It seems as if everyone’s begun to be ushered into the main hall, the lights of the stage in the back of the room brightening as an older man walks up, a handful of notecards in his grasp. Doors shut behind the last of the stragglers, the gravelly voice of the man begins to welcome everyone to the annual conference and how it was such a treat to hold it in a historic place. The lights of the room dimming to draw attention towards the stage, you find yourself lost in drink as he speaks, eyes wandering the crowds as you catch Joshua looking at you with an expression you couldn’t quite put a name to. It only made you drink more, swapping out your now empty glass with a new one from a server’s tray nearby.

The speech drags on for another five minutes or so, detailing the events of the weekend. The words tuned out as you feel the burn of alcohol down your esophagus. When the speech is done and the lights brought up, you and Sooyoung make a round around the room, chatting with several acquaintances from conferences and events prior and greeting any new faces you come across.

“How’s your new exhibition in London going?” A voice asks as you turn to your left, “I hope everything got there safely?”

Turning to now greet a familiar face, “Of course it did, Seungcheol. No thanks to you, of course.” Mischievous smile flashing as Sooyoung leaves your side to wander over to a group of Mingyu’s cohorts. “I’m surprised you lent us your exhibit on such short notice, it’s only been up for a few days but luckily enough I was there to see the inaugural showcase. It’s absolutely phenomenal, by the way.”

Smile now coating his features, “I’m glad it worked out. And anything for an old friend.” He takes a sip out of the glass in his hand, glancing around the room for a moment as if to observe the atmosphere. “It seems busier than usual, doesn’t it? I hear it’s largely in part due to the handful of new teams they’ve set up in the area.”

“Well, typically these are held in stuffy new cities, can’t blame the attendance for being higher here.” You note as you look over the faces of the other patrons. “St. Louis wasn’t all that exciting, was it?”

“Learning about Cahokia was, though.” He notes with a raised brow and turns his attention back to you. “I saw you come in with Mingyu, do you know him?”

“We interned at the Smithsonian and went to grad school together; do you know him?”

“I met him the other day when a few of us early birds were able to get a behind the scenes tour of sector V. I actually know his teammate Joshua, I saw you come in before them so I’m assuming you know him as well?” Seungcheol questions as he scans the crowd for the sight of the taller looming above everyone else.

“Only a little bit,” You lie as the varnish of perceived reality begins to chip away, bit by bit, “I’d say I’m better acquainted with Mingyu really.”

“Ah, that’s a shame. He’s a bright kid, if you ever get to know him, was a great help when our junior archivist was out of town for a while…” You hope he can’t see the painted smile on your face as he speaks again, “Have you met any of their teammates? It really is an eclectic bunch.”

“I haven’t actually, I think Sooyoung’s talking with them now.” Peering back to see Sooyoung laughing at something Mingyu was saying, “I should probably introduce myself.”

“I’ll leave you to it then, I’ve got an archivist and an architect to track down somewhere around here. It was nice seeing you again,” He gives you a short nod before heading off into the masses.

“There’s the woman of the hour,” Sooyoung’s hand that isn’t occupied with a wine glass slips around your waist as you approach the group. “I was just telling them how you managed to snag the Gohyang exhibit, not that they really care. They’re all archaeology nuts.”

“I take it I don’t need to introduce myself then?” Shooting Sooyoung a short glare before looking to the handful of people surrounding you, “It’s nice to meet you all.”

“Nice to meet you too,” A voice speaks up and a hand raises to meet yours as Sooyoung’s grip around your waist is lost. “I’m Minghao, the site supervisor, kind of in charge of these guys.”

Another voice beside him, “Don’t let him act all high and mighty about it, it’s just because our real team leader broke his wrist skiing and is on leave for the next two weeks.” Different hand to shake, “I’m Seulgi. I work in forensics.”

“And you already know Mingyu and Joshua, they’re pretty much our main diggers,” Minghao notes and looks to Mingyu, “Where is he by the way? Didn’t you two come together?”

Humming as Mingyu’s eyes scan the crowd, “I’m not sure, he might’ve ducked out to get some fresh air. You know how he gets.” Unable to find him, his attention returns to the group, glancing over at you, “Was he always this weird at events?”

“Do you know him?” Seulgi's voice interrupts before you’re able to speak, pulling your attention away from your friend and to her.

“I-”

Once again interrupted, this time by Sooyoung. “She actually went to school with him. Small world, isn’t it?”

“Not so much in this field,” Minghao muses, something wistful in his tone, “We all come across each other at some point.”

“You’re still not going to get over that Russian tomb raider, are you?” Seulgi sighs, attention focusing back to you. “But was he? He’s always happy at the dig site but whenever we come to these sorts of events, he gets all quiet and taciturn. It’s like he’s looking for someone who’s never really going to show up.”

“That’s uh- Oddly specific.” Uttering under your breath, uncomfortable at the turn of events and barrage of questions being thrown at you. “And I really didn’t know him that well.”

“Ah come on,” Sooyoung’s voice slurs ever so slightly as you take a sip of your drink. “I can hardly believe you went to a small school in the middle of BFE, go on a study abroad trip with him and didn’t talk to him.”

Pressure building as if you’re a kettle with nowhere to expunge the steam rapidly rising inside of you. You’re a trapped animal, cornered in a room of vicious predators.

A nervous, shaky laugh escapes you, and before you can stop yourself, the words start tumbling out. “I mean we were classmates and we knew each other- We were kind of friends and more, but it wasn’t supposed to be serious, you know? I needed to focus on my studies, on my career. I wasn’t ready for anything more, and I told him that, but he just… he wanted more. But it didn’t make sense because he was in love with someone else, always talking about her like she was the one, and I felt like… like he was just using me to fill some void or get over her or something. And I knew it wasn’t right, but I couldn’t stop it. I didn’t mean to hurt him, but I did, and now—”

Your voice cracks, the guilt and confusion spilling over as you realize how loud and rambling you’ve become thanks to the alcohol that not only lessened your anxiety but loosened your tongue. The group falls into an uncomfortable silence, the weight of your confession hanging in the air. You can feel the burn of a gaze on the back of your neck, and when you turn, there he is—Jisoo, staring at you, his eyes filled with a mix of hurt and something else you can’t quite place.

Smile instantly dropping into a grimace, a mumbling of “Oh shit,” as he brushes past you without so much as a glance, wine stem threatening to break under the stress you now exude from your fingers. A pit dropping in your stomach as the reality of your words and the carelessness of your actions only sought to further dredge you from the comfort of your mind and into the abysmal present.

"I'm so sorry," you apologize with wide eyes to the group. A guilty being inside of you chases after him, the clacking of your shoes atop the marble floor echoing around the space yet muffled by the number of people that you’d outright embarrassed him in front of. Not that they’d all heard, only the ones that matter to him. You set the wine glass in your hand atop a small table before you exit, only after downing the last of the liquid that remained, hoping the warmth of your cheeks is more so from the wine than your mortification. You need liquid courage, yet if you consume any more, you’re unsure what other vile secrets may come tumbling from your lips.

Jisoo’s standing in the atrium of the building when you find him, tie loosened from his neck as if it had sought to choke out every last word from his mouth. You approach with a slowing velocity, unsure how to reintroduce yourself after the disaster of an evening. Another calamity incurred by a slip of the tongue and careless action by you, unlike your past self now this blinding awareness overtook you and a tremendous amount of guilt found itself weighing you down.

“I’m not good with words, I never have been.” A hand had run through his hair as he looked far too more shaken now than he had in the moments prior. Footsteps atop tile as he paces the space, a statue of some Roman deity or emperor looking down upon the two of you as if it meant to judge your sins. “I’ve tried so goddamned hard to forget about this and you just think it’s okay to waltz right back into my life and make it all some sort of fantastical joke?” You feel as if you were a child being scolded by a parent rather than whatever you would define your relationship with Joshua now. If there even was one to define. Eyes trailing the floor as the sternness in his voice was reason enough for you to never want to make eye contact with him again, your blood was hot, and you were warm with repentance. “You broke my heart, what makes you think that you have the right to come back?”

“If you want me to say I’m an asshole I can, the largest of assholes who was too stupid and vain to think of anyone but myself. That was a total lie back there I don’t even know why I said it.” You feel slovenly with the way the words fight their way out of you as you apologize for the immoralities of a time long past, “Jisoo,” he winces at the name, your sure no one’s called him that in some time, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Sorry for much more than the scene you’d just caused.

“Did you really never care about me?” The pain in his voice renders you from the present and into the past where he’d found you hidden away in some closet at a fraternity party. Your arms slung around the neck of someone you’d only met a handful of times before then, focus breaking when the door opens, and streams of blinking led lights from the party outside flooded into the dark space. It had taken you a moment to recognize the large silhouette in the doorway, shadow casting onto the two of you locked into a crude embrace. Blinking you return to the hardened stare he gives you now, reminiscent of that you saw in his eyes that day. “You fucked my friend and didn’t think anything of it.”

“We hadn’t spoken in months! I wasn’t obligated to pine over you when we’d practically become strangers.” Yet you had. This hallowed feeling had plagued you for months following that night, you’d remembered it the morning after and had an apology text written that you never found the courage to send. It sat on your phone screen for longer than you would have liked it to, but that’s what it did, sat and collected virtual dust while you found solace in finding use in other men to take your mind off of him.

Eyes finding comfort in the statue above, you wait for the words trapped inside of his chest like a caged beast to be wrought upon you as he had probably wished to do since the last you’d seen him. They never come. No floods or wrath or hellfire fury wrung out for you to find. Just silence as the gentle chatter from the ballroom down the hall faintly ambling as the backdrop to your tragedy.

“If I had known it was you, I wouldn’t have come.” Spare him from this detriment of character. Scared. You were scared and that’s why you’d not spoken to him since that rainy afternoon. He’d said something before he left but you were too busy trying to keep yourself together to remember what he’d uttered. In his absence you’d try to remember, but it all proved fruitless and you perhaps had lost one of your truest friends that day. “Didn’t Mingyu tell you we were coming?”

Hands in his pockets, gaze racked onto something painted onto the domed ceiling of the atrium. “He did.” Breaking your gaze from the statue you look to him, quizzical brow already set atop your features.

“Then why didn’t you say anything?” Voice quiet, you feel the alcohol tunneling your vision and pulsing through your fingertips.

“To see if you’ve changed, to see if you’re still vehemently against my happiness.” Eyes turned to you as a frown adorns his lips. You’d never felt such seriousness come from him, it made you feel even more a cornered animal than you’d been in the ballroom. “It’s obvious that you are though, I should’ve expected as much.”

“Vehemently against your-? What the hell are you talking about Jisoo?”

“You never wanted me to be happy!” Hands flying out of his pockets as they move to gesticulate a feeling you couldn’t quite comprehend. “Every time I tried to move towards you, you always pushed me away. I tried to accept and understand that, but you let me into your arms on more occasions than I can count on my two hands. If you really didn’t want me then why did you continue to let me in like that?”

“Because I thought I was doing you a favor! I was taking your mind off of that girl! You never wanted me, or I was too stupid to see that you actually did because you talked about her all of the fucking time!” Voice raising as you continued, a fire boiling in your blood that you hadn’t realized had been only simmering for the past eternity. “It took too long for me to realize that I loved you back.” You were in love with him. You are in love with him and now you’ve gone and ruined any chance you had at reconciliation again. It’s as if some Austenian novel was taking place yet it was far too real and far too raw for it to be anything as romantic or gothic as such.

“Loved me back,” a bark from the back of his throat, a laugh of incredulity as the damnation in his gaze is ever so present, he didn’t believe you and he had every right not to. “You know, I thought about what I would say to you if I saw you again,” Leaning back so his weight now lay on the base of the statue, “I wrote out countless scenarios, questioning why you never reached out. Why I never tried to either. I was so, so angry at you and now I’m just tired.” Frown as he looks to the floor, the fire once bright behind his eyes simmering into a broken flame, “I can’t be too upset; I was as much an ass as you back then for not wanting to respect your wishes. But if I had loved you any less, I might just hate you now.”

A moment’s pause to reiterate what he’d said in your mind, the alcohol running rampant you take a few deep breaths in hope you’d heard what he admitted correctly. ‘Loved you any less,’ sounded like he certainly didn’t despise the essence of your being but with the way he’d acted prior to tonight made it seem as if you were a ghost to him. “Are you saying you don’t hate me?”

“I’m saying I’m old enough to realize that we both had our faults.” Gaze still trailing the veins of marble in the floor, “I used you as an emotional coping mechanism for the longest time before actually realizing I liked you. I didn’t even talk to her that last night, I just wanted to come over to be with you. But you,” Lower lip bitten as he nods his head, “I was never able to figure you out.”

Humbling as this whole situation is you’re finding it harder to stay upright, you move to stand next to him and motion to the bit of statue base beside him. He nods and scoots over enough to allow you enough space to lean alongside him. Warmth from where he once was lingering on your back, you let a sigh loose from your lips, “I was too selfish, I said I didn’t want to get involved with anyone, but I was just scared.” Foot tapping against the floor as the gentle reverberations echo around the room, “I didn’t mean to hurt you. And I didn’t even sleep with your friend, I left soon after you did.”

Mouth parted to say something more, it never happens as the door to the main hall opens and Mingyu emerges, quickly moving to the two of you. “Would you mind if we head back a little early? Sooyoung’s a little, no, super drunk and I don’t want her to say anything embarrassing. Well, anything more embarrassing.”

Knowing how your friend got seemed to momentarily distract and sober you, a look to Joshua and then to Mingyu you nod your head, “I don’t mind.”

“I don’t either,” Jisoo agrees and then opens his palm for Mingyu to throw him the car keys, “You get her and I’ll pull the car around.”

Gentle breathing as the warmth of another lying next to you in bed rouses you from slumber. Light peeking in from the window overhead as you shift, the fragrance of a rose scented shampoo greeting you. “Sooyoung,” a grumbling from your lips as you hadn’t realized that she’d snuck into your bed during the night, she was a clingy, cuddly drunk that you were normally never one to accommodate. But last night had been different, you barely remember the ride home as you’d been in and out of slumber. Joshua had driven while you took the passenger seat, Sooyoung’s head atop Mingyu’s lap as she gently snored away, finding sleep a much better accompaniment than drunkenness in a moving car.

“Five more minutes,” a murmur from her as she pulls the blankets closer to her chest, “I think I’m still drunk.”

“Want to trade,” a hand moving to your forehead as you sit up, waves of nausea rolling like an unbearable tide through your system. “I need a Powerade and a nap. Do they have Powerade here?”

“Pedialyte maybe,” Sooyoung says, sounding more awake as the covers fall away as she sits up. She ponders for a moment, sleep in her eyes as she stares down at the white duvet. A yawn escaping her as she turns to you, “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“Talk about what?” Hand running through your knotted locks, looking over to your similarly disgruntled friend.

“Oh, you know, the stock market.” Retort scoffing from her, “I’m talking about whatever the fuck happened last night between you and Joshua.”

Maybe you’d thought it all a dream, the argument and your drunken folly. Yet presented to you again you couldn’t help but acknowledge it, “I said something stupid and I apologized to him.” More than that you’d unthinkingly confessed you liked him eons too late, but you could blame that on your inebriation, although you’re not sure what he’d say. You’re not sure you saw him have a sip of anything at all last night.

“Seemed like a little more than that,” Shoulders shrugging as she moves to slide out of your bed and walk over to the small vanity. “When he was carrying you inside you were all over him, apologizing about something.”

“I what?” Eyebrows raising as you feel the familiar flush of embarrassment creep along your spine. “You must’ve been seeing things there’s no way in hell he’d do that.”

“-Even made sure to bring you some water,” you hadn’t realized she’d been continuing. “I can’t really remember much else though.” The sound of acute popping as she stretches her arms, “I’m going back to bed, wake me up if anything important happens, okay?”

A shake of your head as you usher her out to leave, an icy feeling running from your head to your toes as you think you’d rather stay in this room the entirety of your stay than face whatever was beyond the door. When you do get that confidence to venture out, as you didn’t hear anyone trapezing about the house, you try and quietly amble down the stairs as to not wake your slumbering friend a few doors down. Pounding in your head you make way to the kitchen to rummage around for an aspirin or five to rid yourself of the aftermath of indulgence. Quiet, “Shit,” escaping you as there’s nothing to be found, only water and tea. So, when Jisoo finds you sitting alone at the kitchen table, water glass in hand as your head is pressed gently to the rough wooden surface, he can surmise you’re probably not feeling your best. You hadn’t even heard the front door open, nor had you guessed he’d be dressed up in business attire once again. Another jarring thing to add to your morning.

“I figured you wouldn’t be feeling great,” His voice soft as if not to disrupt the cosmos, “I brought you and Sooyoung some espresso. It won’t cure your hangover, but it’ll wake you up.” The sound of a cup hitting the tabletop and you look up to see it sitting in front of you. The shift in his attitude over the course of the last two days all too paradoxical and overwhelming for you to think of right now. Your hand reaching forward to grasp the paper cup in your hands and slowly bring it to your face.

A sip taken and you sit up, “Thank you.” Finger running over the small hole atop the lid, “Sooyoung’s still asleep. I’m not sure when she’ll be up again.” Jisoo responds with a slight nod of his head, not furthering the conversation as it seems he’s lost in thought. “Where’s Mingyu?”

“At the conference,” It takes him a moment to respond, “I ducked out early to make sure you both were doing okay. He also wanted to know if the both of you wanted to check out the ruins today. It’s going to be crowded but we can sneak our way through without too much hassle.”

“I think we’d both be up for it after a little more sleep if that’s alright?” The scent of the espresso finally hitting you, it was good but didn’t sate the anxious butterflies floating around your stomach.

“That’s fine, you can go and get some sleep, Mingyu’s not supposed to be back for another couple of hours.”

“It’s quite sad, isn’t it?” Walking through the ancient and weathered streets of Pompeii felt more as if you were walking through a graveyard rather than a place frozen in time. In a way it is a graveyard, yet most came to ogle at the plastered bodies of the deceased than appreciate the ability to see how the people once lived and thrived. You stand now, with Mingyu and Sooyoung, Jisoo standing some feet back as you gaze at one of the faded frescoes from antiquity.

“Sad, yes. Tragic? Absolutely.” Mingyu says as he takes a few steps further into the atrium of the household, towards the small, empty impluvium that sat in its center. “But in a way it’s kind of happy too, don’t you think? It’s a city lost in time but we’re slowly uncovering the past and its people.”

“I’m pretty sure we’ve got a room like this in the MoMA,” Sooyoung says, looking down to the little guidebook in her hand.

“That’s actually from a villa outside of the city,” Mingyu interjects, “It’s preserved beautifully.” They share a look and you turn away, not wanting to impede on their moment.

Instead, your attention turns to Jisoo, who’s walking through the doorway and out into the street, lip bitten you contemplate following after him since you hadn’t really spoken to him since that morning and a plethora of questions are running around your head. You excuse yourself from the other two, not that they would’ve noticed as it seems they were in deep conversation, and head out into the increasingly overcast afternoon. “I don’t want to sound weird but what exactly did I say to you when we came back here last night?” Voice calling out to Jisoo as he reads something carved into a slate of marble beside the house. Standing atop the steppingstones that dotted the antique streets so that you could get a better look at him. “I can’t really remember and it’s been eating me alive all day.”

Hum from his lips as he glances to the cloudy sky and then to you, “You did say something about being ‘the most unmitigated and comprehensive ass,’ was that Shakespeare?” There’s a slight smile to his lips and you feel your stomach doing cartwheels. “You said it at least ten times.” He strides over, not needing to take many steps since his gait is that of a giraffe’s.

“Austen, actually.” Words coming out in almost a whisper as the two of you stand in silence. Birds cawing overhead and the buzz of nearby tourists as you don’t know what to say next.

“For someone who was never a romantic, you sure as hell indulge in romantic things,” casual musing and he moves his hands into his pockets. The air smelled of sun-dried dirt and salt envelops you, even with the clouds above the harshness of the sun felt ever so present on your back.

“I’m sorry,” words escaping you, “I-”

“You’ve already apologized more in a weekend than I could’ve hoped for in my entire life,” A shake of his head as he raises a hand to stop you. Tongue swiping his lower lip, “You know, I thought I was supposed to be angry when I saw you again, but when I saw you standing in the house after all this time, I was more happy than not?” Laugh escaping him, “Maybe I’m crazy.”

“I was too,” in a strange way you had been. The anxiety had been there, of course, yet there was an undeniable elation at seeing him. Flicker of a smile coming over you, “Maybe we’re both crazy.”

“Mingyu’s said you’ve climbed up in your career pretty fast,” A nod of his head, “I’d love for you to tell me more about it if you’ve got time to grab dinner while you’re here?”

“It’s not like we’re housemates for the week or anything,” You smile, “I’d really like that.”

When he takes your hand and doesn’t let it go after you’ve exited his car, that’s when you start to think, finally, his resentment towards you had begun to fade. When he holds the door open and pulls your chair out for you at the restaurant, is when your heart starts thrumming. When he pays the tab but you go out for an hour or two longer talking, reminiscing, and catching up is when you feel like you can look at him without any semblance of regret or shame. When his hand lingers atop yours while he tells you a story about an extravagant find in Site V is when you can’t wipe the smile from your lips and the euphoria from your chest.

“So, other than becoming a wildly prolific curator, what else have you been up to?” Hand moving away from yours as he leans back in the small wooden chair. The dim lights of the restaurant casting soft shadows across his features.

“I play tennis on the weekends, I’ve also got a cat back home but she’s kind of an asshole,” you laugh, returning your hand to your lap. “But what about you? I always thought you’d go into curation, never saw you as the archeologist type.”

“To be honest I thought it’d be like Indiana Jones, but I think the movies overexaggerated his job a little bit,” the joke playing gaily in his eyes as he shoots you a small smile. “But I might look into a museum job when I get older, it’s just too much fun being out in the field right now. I didn’t enjoy archiving as much as this.”

“I get that,” agreeing as you reach for your water, taking a sip before placing it back onto the table. “So, did you and that girl ever work out?”

“That girl,” Joshua pauses, “You know she has a name, right?”

“Of course, but I don’t think I’ve ever called her by it.” Lips pursed as your finger plays with the condensation on the glass.

“What did you call her? An anglophile or something?”

“She always had that stupid union jack jacket on, it was like she was trying to be a wannabe Beatle,” it wasn’t a bad jacket. You realize now that it had probably been jealousy that coined the title.

A short laugh, “I remember that. But no, we never ended up together. I’m really only dating one person right now.”

Brow furrowing, had you gotten this whole night misconstrued? “Oh really? Who is it?”

“I’m not really sure, to be honest. We kind of found him halfway under a rock a few years back and have been trying to piece him and his story together ever since.” Eyes widening as he tells you the tale, “He’s at least nineteen hundred years old so I don’t think it’ll work out between us though.”

“You’re an asshole,” scoffing as you roll your eyes at him. In all honesty you were a little relieved he’d only been joking.

The two of you slowly begin to realize the lateness of the hour, the moon hanging high as you exit the bar with warm faces and hints of smiles lingering on your lips. There is a coolness in the air that hadn’t been present when you’d entered, it wasn’t cool enough to make you shiver but it feels pleasant as it runs over your skin. The drive home is filled with aimless chatter, it just feels comfortable to be back on good terms with him and feel his presence once more in your life.

Not too long after you arrive to the house, you find your friends absent. Checking your phone, you see they’ve gone off to watch a film and wouldn’t be back for another hour or two. You sit on the plush, green velveteen sofa of the living room as Jisoo saunters in with a bottle of wine and two glasses in hand. “I’m shocked at the amount of wine everywhere, I feel like if I stuck a spigot into the ground it’d be wine that comes out instead of water.”

“The Italians love their aperitifs and their wine,” Jisoo says as he pours out two glasses and hands you one. The TV turned onto a channel playing a movie you know but dubbed in Italian, you watch for a moment before feeling the brush of a hand atop your shoulder. Turning to look, you see Joshua’s head tilted to the side as his fingers dance along your shoulder.

“Can you tell me if I’m being too presumptuous?” A nod of your head as his fingers begin to absentmindedly play with a few strands of your hair, “But I don’t think my feelings about you changed all too much since I told you I loved you. And I understand if you don’t want to accept me again because it’s been too long, and we’ve grown apart but-”

Jisoo’s ramblings are cut short when you lean forward and place a kiss on his lips. It isn't your first kiss with him, nor was it his with youu. Although it was your first kiss with him that you wholly put intention behind as you’d never allowed it before because it had called for an intensified intimacy, you’d been scared to assign yourself to such a concept. Yet now you feel as if you were ready, “I love you too.”

Pulling your face away from him, the stars of disbelief shine in his eyes as the glow of the TV lights illuminate the smile on his lips. He looks relieved, sated and gleeful, a cornucopia of feelings that were unobtainable so long ago. Without another word you settle into each other, your head upon his chest as his hands run absentmindedly through your hair, the staticky nature of the television and sounds of a summer night outside lulling you both to sleep. It’s difficult to explain the situation to your friends that walk in an hour and a half later, startling the two of you awake as they come upon you. Their hands interlocked with each other, you shoot Mingyu a look to which he avoids, Sooyoung only winks and looks down to your hand which you find covered by Jisoo’s. It’s a silent act of solidarity, just a casual acceptance of what time had spurned as the night trudges onwards and you return to his side as the other two make their way upstairs.

#seventeen x you #seventeen x reader #seventeen fanfic #seventeen imagines #hong jisoo x reader #hong jisoo smut #hong jisoo fluff #joshua x reader #joshua x you #joshua smut #joshua fluff #joshua angst

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seeingivy · 7 months ago

Text

casual

suguru geto x f!reader

**loosely based on casual by my beloved chappell roan

—

in the three months that you spend with suguru geto, he leaves a sour taste in your mouth and it’s not only because he tastes like black coffee. and in the two months that follow, before your deeply unfortunate circumstantial reunion, the last five words that you uttered to him, the sentiment behind them, only seems to grow.

you can go to hell.

and it’s all you can think when he shows up to the emergency room – a pinkish sunburn across his nose, his hair messily tied back – and eyes dripping in a concern that fills you with a rage. and it’s a deep sigh that he gives you, before reaching for your hand.

“what happened to you, peach?”

the general education class that you choose to satisfy your values and ethics inquiry is the sociology of religion. counting all the stakes – a stellar review on rate my professors, a night class at the start of the week, and minimal homework – it makes for the most ideal choice.

“so what’s your major?”

the downside? the midterm and final project are group assignments. and on any other occasion, you would have appreciated it – getting to split the work, taking some of the load off and sharing the work with someone, except for the fact that you didn’t know anyone in the class – and for the most part, you were expecting some half-brained idiot that would make you do all the work.

you suppose it’s at least fair that he’s not horrible to look at. in the dimmed lights of your apartment, there’s something almost off putting about your partner, suguru geto. you count seven piercings across his ears – dangling silver pieces almost shining in the glint of the light – and the smallest rim of purple around his eyes. harsh cheekbones, a hard jaw, and wrinkles by his eyes.

“educational studies. what’s yours?” you state.

“computer science.”

you hum in response, filling the two glasses with water and snatching one of the peaches from its container before taking your seat across from him, noting that he has a dimple on the left side when he smiles in response to your gesture.

“did you want some?” you ask, holding the peach in between the two of you.

he shakes his head, slumping against the counter in what seems an almost unnatural pose – his long limbs spreading into the space underneath your chair. you wonder if he always had an unusual way of taking up space.

and it seems that as time goes on, he gets more and more unusual. quietly working through the portions that you split up, except for a few deep breaths here and there, though he would stop once in a while and would almost ask for approval of what he had written, waiting for some confirmation from you that it was okay with you.

“you’re comparing adam and eve to…orpheus? i’m not really familiar with that.” you state.

suguru nods, before turning towards you to explain. his eyes waver in the slightest as he turns over to you, his gaze flitting down to your lips, before looking back up at you.

“you don’t have to be polite. you really can have some if you want, it’s really sweet.” you state.

suguru smiles.

“maybe later.”

you shrug.

“so orpheus…”

“it’s a really old greek myth. orpheus and eurydice. to kind boil it down, eurydice is in the underworld with hades. and orpheus is trying to convince hades to let her return to the mortal world, with him.”

he scoots his chair a little bit closer to you and you’re able to note one thing – that there’s a resonance in his voice, that it hums in his chest when he talks.

“hades tells him that he’ll let him take eurydice with him, but on one condition. she has to walk behind him.”

“that’s not that hard.”

suguru grins.

“isn’t it?” he asks.

you pause.

“you’re being told by this big, all powerful god, that she’s walking behind you. but you can’t look. you wouldn’t even consider the fact that you were being fooled? that maybe she had decided not to follow?”

“i mean, i guess. i don’t think it would really cross my mind, i…i think i’d just follow out all the way til the end because i’d kind of have faith if that’s what i was promised. and that she’d want to come with me too.”

suguru pauses, like he’s almost taking in what you’ve said – like it’s the first time he’s heard it – and responds rather slowly.

“you’re rather trusting, aren’t you?”

you roll your eyes.

“is that such a bad thing? what do you think about it?”

suguru shrugs.

“it was a worthless pursuit in the first place. there was no way that he wouldn’t have turned around and looked back.”

“what do you mean?”

“it’s simple. he loves her. if he hears something that deceives him – like the sound of her tripping over a rock – he doesn’t think. he looks back. if he thinks that she isn’t there, he won’t be able to get over it and he’ll turn around.”

you pause, mulling the thought over. and you suppose it’s true – that if you really did love something, it would be almost impossible not to check for the promise of their presence.

“i guess. so what? she goes back to the underworld?”

“yeah. it’s one of the most tragic love stories.”

“i guess it’s kind of romantic. that he loved her so much that he had to look back, like it was almost an instinct.”

and in the split second that the two of you stare at each other, he leans forward, pressing his lips to yours, with the strong taste of coffee lingering on his lips.

you’ve kissed three people before in your life – the boy you sat next to in the seventh grade, your date to the prom, and now suguru geto.

the first was overwhelming. a quick locking of the lips, that at the time, made you nearly erupt into a puddle of butterflies. the second was lackluster. waxy from too much chapstick, abrupt from the fact that he was quick to shove his tongue in your mouth.

and the third was indescribable. only because you could feel it – something lingering under his demeanor that you couldn’t exactly place. there wasn’t a word for the feeling it gave you – though there was one that was close enough.

curiosity. about what that feeling is, about who suguru geto was, and why he felt so inclined to kiss you upon your third meeting.

you wanted more of it.

“you’re right, you know?” he murmurs, breath warm against your lips.

“about being trusting?”

he laughs.

“no. about the peach. it really is sweet.”

he leans back, eyes fixed on the reading in front of the two of you again, as you reach up to touch your lips, the sticky sweetness of the fruit gone from your skin.

suguru comes around often after the fact. always here and there, an almost abrupt and concise text testing the waters.

[suguru]: is your roommate home?

[you]: nope. she’s at the district.

[suguru]: can i keep you company?

[you]: okay!

and he always arrives promptly twenty minutes after the fact, to the point where you wondered if he lingered around just to get there as fast as he could. and never empty handed – with dinner, dessert, or a flower that he plucked out of the cement in his hands.

that was the thing that confused you about him.

after the very first time you kissed, he had made one thing very clear.

no attachments. you’re not together.

but yet, he’d show up sometimes and do nothing but kiss your forehead and sleep in your bed next to you. or make you do something entirely mundane – like watch toy story three with a sheet of cookies in your oven – or watch you study.

and in the two weeks you had known him, you knew better than to question. your curiosity never stopped you, but you found that you were always left with more questions than the vague answers that he gave you.

“hey peach?”

“yeah?”

“your mom is calling.”

you widen your eyes, immediately snatching the phone from him, and giving him a weary smile. and you side shuffle into the walkway between the laundry and your bedroom, pressing the phone to your ear and murmuring under your breath.

“hi mom.”

“hi doll. how are classes?”

you pick at the loose thread of your sweater, nearly breaking the seams of the sleeve, noting suguru’s curious eyes – that he’s very poignantly trying to hide – from the kitchen.

“they’re good, ma. what’s up?”

“right. i’m so sorry to do this to you, my sweet, but i won’t be home when you get back.”

“what?”

“we’re going on a trip to see sheila in new york. and well, her vacation is only during those dates and we want to spend as much time with her as we can.”

you sigh, the frustration tempering in yoru chest.

“i already paid for the tickets. i saved up for a month trying to buy a flight back.”

“darling, i know. i’m really sorry, but you know how it is. she just gets so stressed out that we just wanted to go out there and make her holiday nice.”

“and what about my holiday? you don’t want me to have a nice christmas with my family?”

you can feel it burning in your cheeks – that embarrassing feeling that’s been simmering in your chest since you were kid. a mix of an insurmountable amount of envy and dejection, from trying to vie for attention from the second that you realized you never had it.

“don’t try to make me feel guilty.” she scolds

“i’m not trying to make you feel guilty! i just wished you would have thought about me too.”

you hear an irritated sigh on the end of the line, which is your first sign that you had made a mistake. because if there was one thing you knew how to do, it was push your mom’s buttons.

you wonder if it’s because she sees herself in you – and that utter hatred that she has for herself was now placed on you instead.

“do you always have to be so curt with me?”

“i’m not being curt, i just…”

“maybe when i die, you’ll think back and wished that you had appreciated me more. been more understanding that i’m not just your mother, i am someone’s friend too. that i have my own life. and that at the very least, my friends like to call me here and there. acknowledge me while you do god knows what wherever you are.”

“okay, well, i –”

“enjoy your christmas. we’ll see you in the spring.” she states.

there’s a static on the other end of the line and you drop your phone, staring at the dark screen in your hands for the few seconds that follow. and you must have been standing there for too long, because a few minutes later quiet footsteps accompany you in the dimly lit hallway, suguru’s head obscuring the light from the bulb.

“hi peach.”

“did you hear all of that?”

“no.” he responds.

you look up at him and glare. and he reaches forward, hands soft on your cheek wiping away the wetness that you hadn’t noticed. you’re not sure when you started crying.

he leans forward and presses a kiss to your cheek.

“you’re a liar. if you’re one thing, it’s nosy.” you respond.

he smiles.

“maybe when it comes to you. what happened, pretty girl?”

you shake your head, his grabby hands coming around your waist as he presses you closer to his chest. you can hear his heart thumping against your ear, the metal of his necklace cold on your cheek, as you heave a sigh.

“nothing.”

“oh, come on, peach.”

you look up at him, expectant and full brown eyes waiting for an answer, as you give in.

“i just thought i would be going home next week for break. but i think i’m just going to stay here.”

“because your parents are going to…”

“see their friends in new york.”

suguru frowns. you can’t tell if it’s pity in his eyes.

“it’s not a big deal. i just was expecting to go home, that’s all. and it’s not that big of a deal that i’m going to stay here, the weather is nice and it’s probably frigid cold there.”

suguru pauses.

“you’re going to be here alone?”

“yeah. my roommate is from the east coast.”

“you should come home with me, for break.”

you look up at him, eyes wide.

“what?”

“s’not that far from here, i usually just make the drive. there’s a nice coffee shop on the way that i always stop at for some energy. and my mom is really nice.”

you shake your head, almost too violently.

“i can’t just go home with you. i wouldn’t want to impose.”

suguru pulls back, his fingers fast on the screen, as he murmurs under his breath, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

“you’re not an imposition to me, peach. i can’t leave my baby here alone.”

“sure. but to your parents, and…and staying rent free in your house.”

suguru grins, handing over the phone to you, as you read the texts on the screen.

[suguru]: can my friend come home with me for break? her name is y/n.

[mom]: YES!!!!!

[mom]: A GIRL!

[suguru]: not like that

[suguru]: but she’s sweet

[mom]: I’M GETTING EVERYTHING READY

you look down at the phone, noting the sweet heart emoji that he has near her contact name, the contact photo a picture of the two of them when he was considerably younger, hugging cheek to cheek.

“and i stay rent free in your apartment all the time.”

“suguru, this is…weird. i can’t just come home with you, that’s…that’s too much.”

he shakes his head.

“it’s casual. we’re just friends, you’re just coming home with me for break so you won’t be here alone.”

right. you’d almost be inclined to believe him – if it wasn’t for the fact that the time you spent around him, the more curious you got.

the more that feeling festered in you, wanting to know anything and everything about him, wanting to crawl deep into his skin and memorize everything and make sense of why he was the way he was.

“you promise?”

“for sure.”

“you’re a loser.”

mei mei is never one to mince her words. and you’re grateful for it – because it’s something that you need when you return from your two weeks stay in long beach with suguru over the break.

because despite the words that he told you, the ones that you didn’t really believe anyway, you come back in a worse state than you expected.

you think you love him.

because in the days of uninterrupted time that you spend together, you let your mind wander too far. because in the quiet moments that the two of you had – knee deep in the passenger seat outside the stupid coffee shop you stopped at, giggling in the bathroom when you went to dinner, and tangled in the bed sheets with him every night – you let yourself taste too much.

let your mind run a little too wild. thinking about meeting his friends at the pier he showed you, of living together in an apartment in the following year.

and the two of you teeter a dangerous line. putting each other as emergency contacts, swapping your wardrobe in between your flats, and showering together every morning – his soft hands massaging the shampoo into the roots of your hair.

“don’t be mean.” you state.

“i’m not being mean, i’m just saying that…”

mei mei sighs, cheeks in her hand, with an almost irritating look in her eyes – wholeheartedly judgemental. she just didn’t get it.

“look, he’s friends with todo. that guy i know from the finance club? and i asked around about him, apparently he loves to brag about how he gets girls off all the time. now either he’s talking about you – clearly not the way you talk about him – or he’s talking to someone else.”

you sigh. because you can’t even put it past him. because in the months you had known him, he was impossible to understand. a futile effort to read. impossible to touch.

“look, i’ll just ask him later.”

and when he comes around your apartment, well after mei mei has left, he brings a slice of peach cobbler that his coworker insisted that he take home with him.

“peach cobbler for my peach!”

you wince.

“that was corny. even for you.”

“i saw an opportunity and i took it.” suguru responds, shrugging as he loops his arms around your waist, chin resting against the top of your head as he eyes the pot of boiling ramen on your stove.

and you bite the bullet as fast as you can.

“do you see other girls?” you ask.

“huh?”

you swallow hard, dry patch in your throat, as you feel the sweat tickling the top of your forehead. it’s from the heat of the stove.

“do you see other girls? or guys?”

“no. do you?”

you shake your head. and you’re unsure how to word the next question – because there was something humiliating, too bare about having to admit that you want more to him – when things were so sweet as they were.

perhaps you should have known better. coffee was always bitter at the end.

“why do you ask?”

you shrug.

“dunno. was just thinking about us. and how we spent break together and all that.”

suguru presses a kiss to your hairline.

“yeah? did you have fun?”

you hum in response.

“yeah. i really liked the city. and your mom and your sister. it was really sweet of you to take me.”

you pause, wincing as you decide to be as blunt as possible.

“and i like you.”

he laughs.

“well, i like you too.”

“no, no, i like you. well, i more than like you, but i…i can’t say those words.”

there’s a silence. and his arms feel like loose limp noodles around you. and you realize now, that you made the wrong choice. you turn around, only to find hollow brown eyes staring at you, the makings of a frown on his face.

“suguru?”

he winces.

“i can’t.” he whispers.

“why not?”

and you’re not sure what it is, but it throws him into a panic. with his facial features scrunched up, eyes hollow, and nervous hands running through his hair.

“i just can’t.”

you cross your hands over your chest, the bitter contempt of rejection blooming in your chest, as you look down, picking at the scab on the inside of your palms as you ask again.

“i said i didn’t want any attachments.” he adds.

“i know. but can you blame me for being confused? you took me home to see your family.”

“as a friend.”

“you didn’t act like my friend while we were there.”

suguru groans.

“and that’s my fault, i know that but –”

that one stings. admitting that he regrets it.

“okay, well. that’s alright. maybe you should leave now, then.” you state.

“wait peach, no. i don’t want to leave, i just..”

you scoff.

“you don’t want to leave?”

“no?”

it comes out meek, almost timid when he utters it. a question. like he can’t even admit it fully – that he wants to stay. and it fills you with anger, searing red hot anger on the heels of being cast aside so nonchalantly, that it comes to a head then and there.

“do you really think so little of me?”

“what?

“i’m not good enough to be your girlfriend. but whatever else you want, that’s fine. i…i thought you thought of me better than some girl you just fuck around with.”

suguru sighs.

“you’re not some girl i just fuck around with.”

“am i not, though?”

suguru shuts his eyes, the look on his face is so pained – so miserable – that it irritates you.

“you’ve made it abundantly clear. that you like me a decent amount, but not enough to care about whether or not you’ll lose me.”

you bite down so hard on your lip that the taste of metallic blood fills your mouth, coupled with warm tears in your eyes.

“and for that, you can go to hell.”

“what happened to you, peach?”

you scoff, curling your nose at the old nickname, as he yanks the closest stool – his legs still too long to even be comfortable on the thing as he leans forward, noting the dried blood on your forehead.

“a car accident. you can leave now.”

suguru frowns, almost resembling a kicked dog, as he shakes his head. there’s something softer about his expressions now – something you’re sure is a byproduct of the time you spent apart or the fact that you have a broken rib – and you choose to ignore it for the time being.

“i can’t just leave.” he whispers.

“and why not?”

suguru shakes his head.

“you have a broken rib. and a deep cut on your forehead. forgive me if i’m concerned about you.”

“i can’t. knowing you, you’ll casually linger around here for a few days, and when you figure it’s appropriate to leave, you’ll be gone with the wind.”

the two of you sit there in silence, the harshness of the words hanging in the air between the two of you.

and yet again, suguru geto leaves you with a never ending pit of curiosity. about what he was doing here, to ask how he is – to make it a note to him that his cheeks look fuller, that his eyes aren’t rimmed red anymore, and that he looks good.

that you like the new hairstyle. that it killed you when he wasn’t around anymore. that you still want him to go to hell.

suguru twists the silver ring on his pointer finger a few times – a fourth, a fifth, and a sixth – before you break the silence, your curiosity getting the best of you another time.

“why are you here?”

“they called me. i’m your emergency contact still.”

“no, i gathered that. why are you here?”

suguru pauses, swallowing hard before responding.

“if orpheus hears something that deceives him – like the sound of eurydice tripping over a rock – he doesn’t think. he looks back.” suguru states.

you scoff. vague again.

“right.”

“no, really. i got the call. and i didn’t think and just showed up. i just…just had to see you.” suguru states.

he pauses.

“it’s kind of romantic, don’t you think? that he loved her so much that he had to look back, like it was almost an instinct.”

you turn to glare at him, at the audacity of him repeating your own stupid words back to you.

“is it? because his carelessness left her in hell with hades.”

suguru scoffs.

“i never did tell you the end of the story, did i?”

you roll your eyes.

“orpheus becomes so distraught that he uses his lyre to charm death – just so that he can return to the underworld to be with her. and people debate how it happens, him being ripped apart by irate women or getting killed by the menades, but it does happen. he dies and goes to the underworld. and in some versions, people think that he reunites with her in the underworld. and she forgives him.”

“and why would she do that?” you ask.

“because he tried his best to do right by her. he was asked to do one thing – to stay away. and that’s what he did, because…because i know you’re right. because you do deserve better, i do think the world of you and think you deserve to be with someone who wants to be with you, the way that you want.”

suguru pauses.

“it’s not my fault that i can’t help but look back. i can’t do anything about the fact that i love you.”

you swallow hard, an embarrassing amount of regret – mixed in with that deep longing that he left in your chest – searing through you.

“in the casual way, right?” you respond, sarcastically.

he groans.

“it’s not casual at all. it wasn’t casual when i leaned forward to taste the sweetness of the peach on your lips – especially when i fucking hate peaches. and it wasn’t casual when i took you home with me, it was…i just couldn’t stand the thought of you being alone. and it’s not fucking casual that i drove three hours when i was supposed to be home this weekend just because i the thought of you sitting in this room alone, in pain, was driving me crazy.”

you wince, turning to look at him. and it seems that in the mere acknowledgement of his presence by locking his eyes, it seems to fill him with something – something that puts the whisper of a smile on his face.

“what?”

“i turned around for you. i didn’t know i would, but now that i have, i…i realize that i probably always would have.”

“okay?” you whisper.

“are you going to forgive me for it? not doing it earlier, for…for not getting it right the first time?” he asks.

you pause, mulling the thought over. and the silence, he takes it as an invitation to plead his case.

“i’ll beg. i’ll get on my hands and knees if that’ll do something to make it better.”

you turn to look at him.

“you…you’re special. i haven’t forgotten about you and…and i know we had something. just let me fix it? i’ll get you a hundred gifts, i’ll tell you a hundred times and i’ll - oh!’

he reaches into his bag, shoving his arms into the depths of the pockets, before yanking out a little napkin and reaching forward, opening your hand and placing it in your palm.

“a tissue?”

“open it.”

and you oblige, unfolding the tissue to see four little gummy peach rings in the napkin, before turning back to him.

“peach rings?”

“for my peach! i eat them all the time now, even though i fucking hate peaches. i only had a few left so i grabbed what i had left when i ran out. and i ate some on the way on accident because i was nervous, worried about you and all..”

you look down, the sugary crystals on the candy almost sparking in the light, as you look back at him. and he's wholeheartedly different - not the cool, cold guy you left behind, but a weird mess of awkwardness and jitters, and maybe even the tiniest hint of desperation.

he seems wholeheartedly more touchable this way.

“you make no sense.” you state.

suguru frowns.

“i know. but i’m trying.” he responds.

and you sigh, wiping your hands at your side, before eating one of the candies. bitter at first, but sweet at the end.

“suppose that’s my problem then. i’ll have to figure you out.” you respond.

suguru’s face splits into a smile, his motions so eager as he leans over the railing of the bed, the angle entirely off as he leans forward to kiss you. and it’s entirely different from every other time you’ve kissed him – full and whole, a warm and tender promise behind it.

“you’re wrong, you know?” you whisper.

“about what?” he murmurs.

“the peaches. they taste good.”

he laughs.

“is that right?” he whispers, his thumb tracing the outline of your lips, as he wavers his eyes up again, to the cut on your forehead.

he leans forward, pressing a kiss to the bandages, before pulling back, lips lingering over yours.

“i think i need one more to decide.”

an: idk.

taglist: @porridgesblog @k0z3me @sugu-love @yihona-san06 @bsenpai @sweetenertea @skzismyhome @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @shotenvinsoot @itzmeme @gojoswifeyyys-world @cutiejg @chilichopsticks @timmytimmytuckyy @dreamxiing @mamamamamarga @skunabby @meisque @hoseokslefteyebrow @yoontaedotin

701 notes · View notes

nxtt2-u · 12 days ago

Text

hush

your boyfriend loves to play with you in bed for hours on end. it’s not your fault you get loud after so much teasing, right?

yang jeongin x afab!reader, 1.4k words, 18+ mdni!!

cw: smut, pre-established relationship, reader has a tummy, no gendered terms but reader has a vagina & boobs

a/n: i return from my hiatus bearing this drabble-turned-oneshot as penance. i completely missed kinktober AND kinkmas.... sigh :( oh well, enjoy this lil snippet of dom jeongin!! ^^ smut warnings under the cut

ʚɞ

sw: dom/sub dynamics, daddy kink, subspace, fingering, overstimulation, ruined orgasm, heavy petname usage sorry.., face slapping, crying, dacryphilia if you squint, a sprinkle of cockwarming, rough sex, praise and the teensiest bit of degradation(?), tummy cumshot, light aftercare (more done offscreen), mm i think that's it!

ʚɞ

“a-ah, ‘yennie, ‘s too much,” you sniffle pathetically, pawing weakly at the hand that’s been toying between your legs for the better part of the last two hours. jeongin coos down at you from where he props himself up on an arm near your side, tilting his head as his lips curl into a smile, deep dimples popping out as if to mock your pitiful state. his other hand stays occupied with your silky heat, and just the sight of the veins protruding in his busy forearm as he works you has you soaking the sheets alone.

“it’s too much, baby?” he echoes condescendingly, eyes crinkling into mirthful crescents at the sound of your pussy squelching obscenely when he finally works two fingers inside your pussy with no resistance. you moan loudly at the delicious stretch of his long, dexterous fingers, delighted at finally having something inside after only being rubbed at and rubbed at up until now, and he grunts in response.

“shit… tight little cunt,” he mutters, crooking his fingers just right to prod at that gooey spot deep within. your whole body jolts as if connected to a live wire, and he moans breathily at the sight. “ah, fuck, is it there, baby? that’s what you want?”

you cry out in response, eyes slamming shut as you nod desperately. your hips begin to hump embarrassingly fast against his palm, but you’re so far gone you can’t even consider stopping yourself. jeongin chuckles at the tears welling up in your eyes as you fuck on his hand like a rabbit in heat, eagerly chasing your orgasm as it draws closer and closer.

he surprisingly allows it without complaint; if you had a drop of coherency left in your cotton-filled brain, you'd question his merciful behavior, but you're submerged too deep in the fuzzy headspace you oh so love to even think about anything other than the pleasure he's giving you. you babble out your incoherent thanks and rut impossibly harder against his palm, but just as your stomach begins to contract and the heat in your abdomen roars to an inferno, he pulls away.

you nearly scream aloud in frustration when your clit pulses angrily at the ruined orgasm. “jeongin!" you wail. "please, don’t be c-cruel,” sniffling, you shove your own hand down to swipe needily at your clit, pretty little head swooning with so much pleasure you can't even consider the consequences your desperation may bring. “need you, daddy, please, please please!” you cry out, frame thrashing wildly against the sheets with how sensitive you are now.

your boyfriend grunts and shifts to loom over you, brushing away his dark bangs so he can see how fucked out you are beneath him. he scoffs once, disbelieving at how you're still babbling and even beginning to drool onto his sheets, before he lands a harsh slap to your cheek. "hush, baby," he spits out, palming his flushed cock right over your heaving soft tummy. the hit leaves your skin hot and stinging in its wake, and you gasp. "god, you're so fucking needy, huh?" he drawls, polishing his tip with a sensitive hiss.

you didn't even realize the slap brought fresh tears to your eyes until they start falling right over the delicate spot where you were struck and you whine, clit pulsing with renewed delight at the pain. it finally manages to shut you up and he smirks when you eventually manage to still and fall silent, save for your intermittent sniffles and heavy breathing. he groans and tips his head forward to press an uncoordinated kiss to your lips at the sight of you peering up at him through wet lashes, patiently waiting for whatever he'll dish out next.

"ah, you're so good to me, sweetheart," jeongin murmurs into your mouth before tangling his tongue with yours. you moan against his lips as he sucks filthily on your tongue, and your noises only grow louder when you feel the head of his cock pressing against your entrance. you break the kiss to pant and stare down at where he pushes in until your head subconsciously falls back against the pillow at the stretch. despite him preparing you with his digits not long ago, it's still a tight fit every time you fuck your boyfriend simply because of his sheer size.

the soaking wet warmth that envelops him must take a toll on him too, especially with how long he's been working the both of you up. jeongin moans at the feeling and his arms begin to shake as he bottoms out. he leans down to lap sloppily at the crook under your jaw while you both catch your breaths. "just warm my cock for a li'l, okay, baby?" he mutters, abs clenching erratically as he does his best to stave off his orgasm. you nod, eager to please and be good, but it doesn't take long before you get squirmy.

who can blame you, though? with his hard cock finally sheathed inside after endless teasing, it's a wonder how you've even held on this long at all. you find yourself writhing again before you know it, fingers threaded into the sheets near your head as you begin to mindlessly beg and tilt your hips up, eager for stimulation. "daddy, please move, plea—"

"sh, shh, angel," he cuts you off, pulling back to loom over you once again. "i know, i know," he croons sweetly when you begin to cry again at the first gentle rolls of his hips. he kisses those salty tears away and begins to thrust harder, rougher, until you're eventually being shifted up the bed with the force and the headboard is rattling against the wall in a steady rhythm.

you don't even register your volume until jeongin is pressing a clammy palm against your mouth to muffle you, still fucking into you like a toy. "shhh, shh," he soothes again, and your eyes roll back when a slight shift of the angle has his tip suddenly pounding into your g-spot. "that's it, sweetheart, just take it. i'll let you come soon, okay? y-you.. fuck," he pants, cock twitching deep inside when you clench hard at his words, "you're so beautiful. milkin' my cock for me, bein' such a good girl, hm?" you whine, eyes slammed shut and brows furrowed in pleasure, and the pornographic moan he lets out at the sight finally tips you over the edge.

"oh, o-oh," jeongin gasps at the way your walls flutter around him, sucking him in deep and demanding his seed. "shit, baby," he grunts, thrusts growing erratic and losing their rhythm as his own orgasm builds impossibly fast. "cream all over my cock like that, and i'll– ah, fuck- cumming cumming—!" he cries; just before you can feel warmth flood your poor, abused pussy, his cock is sliding out of you with an embarrassingly loud noise and he's painting the plush skin below your bellybutton with ropes of white, warm cum.

he jerks and milks himself above you with his eyes pressed shut and mouth wide open as a long, drawn-out groan escapes him. when he's finally spent, he collapses beside you in a sweaty heap with a sated sigh. it's the last thing you see before your eyes drift shut in exhaustion, and when they crack open again he's plastered against your clean stomach, head pillowed happily on a naked boob.

your throat clicks dryly when you try to speak, and he's quick to snap up and fumble with a nearby water bottle, swiftly unscrewing it and pressing it to your lips. when he deems you adequately hydrated, he pulls away and sets it down as you roll your neck around, stretching out your limbs. "hey, sleepyhead. you enjoy your nap?" he grins, returning to his spot amongst your chest. your eyes roll but you give a dopey smile right back, fucked out and soft from the afterglow.

"mhm..." you sigh, tilting his chin up for a kiss. jeongin complies with a happy noise and you pull back before things can get heated again. your poor cunt can't handle another round just yet.

"love you," he murmurs, tucking his face into your neck. you thread your hands through his dark tresses, mussed and a bit smelly from all the activity, but you love it all the same. as his breath begins to peter out into a slower, more even rhythm, your own breath begins to sync as you all but melt into the mattress under his comforting weight. "love you, too," you mutter before slipping off into sleep once more, satisfied, warm, and sated in the arms of the man you love most.

ʚɞ

taglist: @pochaccomin

#sugar writes!#jeongin <3 #not v proud of this but ehh #skz x reader #skz smut #jeongin x reader #jeongin smut #jeongin fanfic #skz fanfiction #stray kids smut #stray kids fanfic #yang jeongin x reader #yang jeongin x you #jeongin x you #jeongin x y/n #yang jeongin fanfic #yang jeongin smut

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pretty-circa006 · 5 months ago

Text

Dumb Little Slut

Negan x F! Reader

summary It was a stupid mistake, really, but she didn't think Negan would get this mad at her.

tags rough sex, boot worship, gagging, spanking, choking, unprotected p in v, creampie, squirting, crying and dacryphilia, degradation and name calling, mild dub-con

wc 1.3k

note i totally forgot i had an ao3 account where i uploaded this fic, so when i remembered, of course the first thing i did was cross post it here! fair warning, this is something i would consider dark.

*you are responsible for your own content consumption. if this is something you DO NOT like, simply DO NOT read or interact! :) *

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆

With Lucille in hand, Negan sat at the head of the table surrounded by Saviors as he awaited an explanation as to why they only came back with less than half the stuff they were supposed to.

Simon sighed. "One of the workers forgot to close the back of the truck and most of the stuff fell out."

"Ya couldn't go back and get it?" Negan questioned.

"We didn't notice until we got back." Negan sighed and ran a hand over his face. He was beyond pissed. Even though The Saviors would be okay without it, he still hated that half his shit was out scattered on the roads somewhere.

"Who in the hell forgot to close the truck? I want a name and I want it now," he demanded with a slam of the baseball bat to the table.

"[Name]," Simon said. Negan sighed. He should've known it'd be her. This wasn't the first time she's fucked up this stupidly and it sure as hell wouldn't be the last if he didn't teach her a lesson.

"Bring her to my room. Dismissed." He stood up and stormed out before the others could.

...

She nervously stood under Negan's harsh, hazel glare. He was sure she knew why she was here, because the first thing that came out of her were streams of apologies.

"I-I'm sorry, S-sir! I thought I had closed it, honest!" she sobbed with big teary eyes. He grabbed a fist-full of her hair and forced her head back to make her stare up at him. She winced, which only motivated him to tighten his grip, earning a whimper from her trembling lips.

"This isn't the first time you've fucked shit up," he growled, a dark look in his eyes. She started crying even harder, which made him smile. He roughly released her hair from his grip. With his gloved hand, he cupped her jaw, his thumb and fingers squeezing her cheeks so hard her lips puffed out. He leaned down to her level, his face barely an inch from hers.

"Your ass is so damn lucky I don't have that pretty fuckin' face of yours burned," he said lowly. He could feel her quivering in his hold, but she maintained eye contact.

"T-thank you for not b-burning my face off," she choked out.

He smiled his charming dimpled smile at her, but his eyes were still dark. With anger or lust, she didn't know, but either way she was afraid.

"Don't think for a second you're getting off scot free. You know damn well you have to make it up to me." She nodded her head as best she could in his grip. He roughly let go of her jaw and shed off his leather jacket before sitting down in his leather couch.

"Strip," he ordered once she was standing before him.

"Y-yes, sir." She unlaced her boots before toeing them off. With trembling hands, she unbuttoned her jeans before stepping out of them along with her panties and pulling her tank top over her head. Negan wolf whistled when he saw she wasn't wearing a bra. Normally, that would've had her all hot and bothered, but this wasn't like the other times she's been called to his bedroom.

"On your knees." She lowered herself to all fours and crawled over to him. She awaited her next orders like an obedient puppy.

"Get yourself off on my boot." His boot was relatively clean, considering, so she didn't hesitate to put her bare clit on the toe of his boot. She looked up at him from beneath her lashes with remorseful doe eyes. She began to grind her hips on the leather, giving her clit the much needed friction.

"You are one filthy slut! Look at you gettin' off on my goddamn boot," he mocked.

Without warning, Negan shoved his index, middle, and ring finger in her mouth, commanding her to suck, which she did eagerly. Her tongue swirled around the digits before he shoved them as far down her throat as he could, until the rest of his hand stopped him, causing her to gag around his hand.

"Thaaat's it, take it like a good little slut," he simultaneously praised and degraded.

She continued humping his boot, coating it in her slick as she became more aroused and closer to her orgasm. The coil that built up in her lower belly was so close to bursting and Negan could tell by the garbled moans that came out around his hand. Every now and then, he'd press down on the back of her tongue, causing her to gag and more hot tears to pour down her face, making him grow even harder in his pants. She was about to come, Negan saw all her telltale signs, but this was a punishment and she didn't deserve to.

"Oh no, you don't get to cum, at least not yet!"

He yanked his hand out, causing her to cough and picked her up from under her arms bent her over his lap. Her hard sensitive nipples against the rough fabric of his pants caused her to moan. He slapped her ass hard enough to leave a handprint before slapping it even harder a few more times. He could see her arousal pouring down her inner thighs. She was enjoying this far more than he'd like her to.

"N-negan, please!" she begged, earning another slap to the ass.

"You do not fuckin speak unless I tell you to," he said darkly. He pushed her off his lap and onto the floor before ordering her to crawl to the bed and get on it. He followed behind her as he undid his belt and unbuttoned his pants, freeing his rock hard cock. It sprung up and slapped his abdomen. Negan was huge and she was honestly nervous to take him without prep. He never prepped her when he was angry at her. He stroked it a few times before lining it up with her leaking cunny. He slid his aching red tip up and down her slick slit before sliding himself all the way in and bottoming out from behind. She screamed out in a mix of pain and pleasure.

"What a slutty pussy, baby," he moaned. He didn't wait for her to adjust to his size and started roughly fucking her with a bruising grip on her hips. As he pounded into her, he roughly kneaded the soft flesh of her ass. Wanton moans escaped her lips with every deep thrust. He tangled his hand in her hair before pulling her head back by it, earning a pained scream from her. His large hand wrapped around her throat, cutting off her oxygen as he got himself off. Her slick, velvety walls clamped down on his girth, a sign she was close. She clawed at Negan's hand, but he only gripped her throat harder.

"Take it like the goddamned dirty girl you are, doll," Negan encouraged. The sounds and smell of sex filled the bedroom. He removed his hand from her throat when he felt her go limp in his hold. Slightly worried, he turned her onto her back while still balls deep in her pussy. His thrusts slowed as he lightly slapped her face a few times until she woke again.

"Don't go passin' out on me now, babydoll."

He put her legs over his shoulders, bending her in half as he picked up his rough pace. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as she moaned his name repeatedly. He pawed at her tits as they jiggled with each thrust. His dick twitched inside her before he came without warning. He threw his head back as he moaned her name while emptying his white hot seed into her slutty pussy. She shook with her orgasm as she squirted around his now semi-hard cock, wetting his dark comforter.

"That's my dumb little slut," he praised as he pulled out. His girl was lazily sprawled out on his bed, barely able to keep her tired eyes open as his cum leaked out of her. He sent a playful slap to her already abused cunny.

"You won't be so lucky next fuckin' time, so I suggest you get your goddamn shit together before you get burned."

She sleepily mumbled in response, too tired and fucked out for anything.

this was originally posted on my ao3 account on 4/28/2024. i haven't posted on there since because people don't comment and barely leave kudos 🥲

#negan x reader #negan fanfiction #negan smith #fanfic #jdm #negan #negan smith x reader #jeffrey dean morgan #twd negan #twd fanfiction #negan x reader smut #smut #the walking dead smut #negan smut #cross posted on ao3

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moonstruckme · 6 months ago

Note

Hi I love your fics so much first of all!!! You’re literally carrying my tumblr reading rn!! Also I was wondering if you would be comfortable with writing a smut request? I love what you’ve written with the poly!marauders boys and I’d love to see more smut with their dynamic. Totally fine if you’re not comfortable but I bet it would be amazing!!

Hi gorgeous thanks for being so so patient with me, I intended to come up with something for this sooner but writing sex with 4 people is one of my biggest challenges with this account haha. Hope it's okay and you like it!

cw: smut mdni

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 602 words

“Hey,” Sirius laughs, hands smoothing along the outsides of your thighs. “Take it easy, sweetness.”

“Sorry.” You try to steady your breathing and, ideally, your shaking along with it. Sirius begins kissing his way up your leg, spit cooling from just under your knee upwards. You yelp when he gives the inside of your thigh a love bite.

“Fuck,” Remus hisses when your grip tightens on his cock.

“Sorry, sorry,” you say, head tipping back against the pillows.

Sirius slips a finger inside your underwear, and you squirm, a humiliatingly pleady sound rising in your throat.

“Aw, baby,” he croons. “You’re feeling pretty ready for us, huh?”

You’re not going to dignify that with a response.

“Anything to report?” James asks jokingly. Remus groans as he pulls out of him before thrusting back in.

Sirius lets the material of your underwear snap back into place, covering your mound with his palm and rubbing consolingly. “Soaked,” he says simply. “But I think she could still use a bit of warming up. Don’t you, gorgeous?”

“No,” you say, half desperate as he presses a chaste kiss to the cloth covering your cunt. It’s an effort to keep your hand moving on Remus’ cock. “No, I think I’m all warmed up.”

“I don’t think so,” Sirius tuts sympathetically, mouthing his way over to your hip. “Don’t worry, I’ll get you there.”

It’s all you can do to keep from crying as he turns you over slowly, kissing the backs of your thighs and lingering at the crease under your ass. They’ve been playing this game with you on and off all day, starting with a particularly salacious kiss from Remus in the kitchen this morning and culminating now, after you’ve attempted to proposition your boyfriends and they’ve rewarded you with foreplay so prolonged it borders on torture while they get each other off.

Sirius’ touches have you panting and gasping, entirely unlike the soft, beggy sounds James likes to work out of you (and, in fairness, you out of him as well). His grip is harsh and kisses searing, ever closer to your cunt but stopping just short of it. Before long he has to pin you down by your thighs, and you can feel his devilish smile against your skin as he kisses the dimple in your back, ignoring the way you squirm underneath him.

Remus makes a soft sound when your grip on him loosens. He reaches for your hand, rubbing your wrist sympathetically.

“It’s okay, dovey,” he says, amusement lilting in his tone. “You don’t have to.”

You let your hand fall to the bed. It bunches in the duvet. “Sorry.” Your voice comes out breathless and teary, bordering on a whine.

He coos, his own voice somewhat strained as he leans over to kiss you sweetly. “S’alright. You’ve got enough to worry about, yeah?”

“Remus.” Tears prick your eyes, and you use them to your advantage, looking up at him beseechingly. “Please.”

“Please what, doll?” There’s a wet suctioning sound as Sirius lifts his lips from your skin. You close your eyes. Swear to god, if you have a hickey on your back tomorrow… “Am I doing something you don’t like?”

Remus starts to laugh, cut off halfway through by his own cursing as James picks up his pace behind him. He drops down for another kiss, hot and fast, not quite as sweet but no less savored.

“In a minute,” he promises you, voice growing taut. “I’ll help you out in just a minute, dove.”

Sirius chuckles darkly. He intends to make the most of the time he has left.

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toxic-libra · 7 months ago

Text

moth to a flame pt.1 - csb (m)

pairing: soobin x fem!reader word count: 17.5k genre: friends with benefits-ish (he helps her with dating tips and stuff), angst if u squint really hard, smut, fluffy, inspired a bit by moth to a flame - the weeknd warnings: 3rd person pov (as always), mentions of reader in love with another guy (haechan <3), slight fwb dynamic, mature content (fingering, blowjob, deep throat, a tiny suggestion of masturbation, unsurprisingly a mention of big dick!soobin) tagging: @once27, @pageriviera, @gyuzlover, @kookley77-blog, @sendhelpiloveyeonjun

[a/n]: part two here.

Y/N knew from the beginning that being shy would ruin her life. In her defence, she wasn’t a shy kid… Not at all – she had thousands of friends and was ever so bold, leading her close group if they needed that extrovert-hand. Her first teen years still thrived in her social butterfly skills. However, something changed mid to late teens, and she hid inside her shell to never see the light again…

Well, until she met Soobin during college.

They had similar personalities, all drawn to quietness, refined tastes and interests. Y/N still remembered the shock on her face when Soobin said he wasn’t joining their friends at the end-of-the-semester party, simply because he wasn’t in the mood.

Which guy in his early 20s would skip a party and be honest about the reason behind it?!

She decided, then, that he was probably worth of getting over her shyness and befriending.

And now, four years later, they were still going.

Which brought her to the current situation: Lee Donghyuck.

Handsome, extrovert and Soobin’s gamer friend.

They met at a PC Bang, and somehow, clicked. Soobin wasn’t exactly antisocial, but he was shy, reserved and more on the quiet side, so getting close to a loud guy like Donghyuck in such setting was a welcomed surprise. Y/N looked at it as a sign to get out of her shell again, too.

But wanting to do it and doing it were two different things.

[19:06] y/n: where tf r u at

[19:06] binbin🐰: well some of us have stuff to do

jk i just got in

gonna shower and meet u in 15

She couldn’t help but grin, waiting.

The door lock rang with the noise of a password being typed. Seconds later, she heard his shoes being thrown inside the shoe-rack. Then, in a heartbeat, she was met with Soobin’s tall frame. When he saw her, his face broke in a pleased smile, while he rolled his eyes in faux annoyance.

“Now, what the fuck are you doing here?” Soobin took off his jacket, dimples still in full display despite his slightly harsh tone. “Are you that impatient?”

“Beomgyu and Mimi were doing a horror movie session, so we’ll have to do ours here.” She mused uninterested, laying back on the sofa again. “When I got home, they were already there, so…”

“Alright.” He sighed, opening a bit of his button-up. “I’ll wash up and see you in a minute.”

Her attention travelled from his face to his hands, wondering why men normally looked so good undressing themselves. “I’ll be waiting.”

Because, honestly, what else she could do?

Unblocking her phone, she scrolled through TikTok for a while, trying to distract herself. Her girl friends had warned her not to do what she was about to, suggesting she downloaded Tinder and got things over with, but Y/N just preferred to die than to use dating apps… Especially when she had means to try to catch Donghyuck by natural ways.

As soon as Soobin took his seat next to her, hair still damp from the shower and smelling his usual scent of vanilla and warm hugs – if that shit ever made sense –, Y/N felt her heart racing with expectation. It was such a risqué move, but she was desperate.

Somehow, all those years without male attention (in a romantic way) and her unbearable shyness started piling out, and it just got too much.

“Fried chicken and beer.” He mused. “You think of everything, thanks.”

“It’s not me, we’ve decided it yesterday.” She shrugged. “Which one are we watching tonight? We have three options: Kimi no Na wa, good ol’ Inuyasha, and finish that borderline pornographic and weird Kakeguri. Or, and hear me out, or you could finally listen to me once and give Ao Haru Ride a chance.” Y/N tucked her hands in a praying sign.

“I listened to you with Tokyo Ghoul, but only season one was good.”

“It’s because you’re tasteless! And you didn’t even try the manga!”

“You complained about the end in both.” He chuckled.

“B-but it’s because I was there for the gore and Ayato! But Ishida-sensei turned him into a softie…”

“This coming from the girl that only watches shoujo or josei.”

“Well, it’s your loss. Yeonjunnie and I just finished season three of Shingeki no Kyojin, and he’ll assure you I my recommendations are top tier.” She crossed her arms.

“I’ll watch it if you watch Jujutsu with me.”

“Fuck off.” Y/N groaned.

Another chuckle, and his dimples made an appearance. “What’s ‘Kimi no Na wa’ about?”

“Beomgyu said it’s a movie, and it was mind-blowing. Since we have similar tastes, I put it on our list.” She handed him her phone. “But if you’re in the mood, we can always watch Shin-chan.”

Quickly reading the synopses, he shook his head. “I’ll trust you and Beomy again.”

Her smile was enough to make him not care if their choice was good or not.

Y/N had planned to introduce her problem during their anime-party, but as expected, she was so invested in the movie that it escaped her completely. By the end of the animation, she was nestled on her side of the sofa, holding back a sob, teary eyes burning with the need to weep. As the credits appeared on the screen, she looked at her best friend, and her lips quivered.

“Oh God, you too?” Her voice sounded choked.

He had a tear or two rolling down his face, eyes red and glinting. “This was…”

“So beautiful! So tragically beautiful!” She stroked his damp cheek, collecting a teardrop. “Can’t believe you really cried… Beomgyu will holler when he hears about this.”

“So don’t tell him!” He pouted. “Why are you holding back? Your eyes are teary, too.”

“You know I hate crying. However, it’s been a while since I felt so touched by a movie that I almost gave in.” She giggled shakily. “Well, that was amazing.”

“Want something sweet for comfort? I baked Nutella bread.”

“Were you planning on telling me this at some point or…?”

Grinning, Soobin got up and went to the kitchen. “Honestly, I was trying to keep it low, because I don’t want Beomgyu eating them all.” His voice was muffled by the distance. “However, I can make an exception for you.” Since Y/N disliked skinship or anything that made her look weak next to any living thing, throughout years of friendship, Soobin noticed she often used food as comfort.

“When did you bake them?”

“Yesterday.”

“Makes sense.” She chuckled, remembering Beomgyu slept at her apartment, which was on the floor above. “Did his stomping annoy you? He did it on purpose.”

“I barely noticed, I was gaming with the boys.”

Oh.

Her heart skipped a beat, tongue tingling with the unspoken question.

“What did you play? Did you win?”

“Overwatch, and yes, I did. I mean, we did.”

“Who did you play with?” She really hoped her voice was tinged with normal curiosity.

“That you’ve met? Yeonjun and Donghyuck… Beomy was out, as you know.”

“Hmm… Of course, you guys would win, my Yeonjunnie never loses!”

“He almost fucked things up, though.” Coming back with a huge plate, Soobin took his place next to her once again. “Luckily, I had his back. Here, take a bite.” He held the bread in front of her.

Steading his wrist, Y/N did as instructed, biting into the soft dough and being quickly hit by a Nutella explosion. She half-groaned, half-chuckled as the filling stained her chin. Wiping it out with her finger, she sucked the spread and moaned in delight.

“Fuck, Soobin, you get better every time!”

His adorable dimples were on display, and his eyes twinkled with satisfaction. “Right?”

There was a comfortable silence, each eating bread while the credits finished rolling.

Maybe that was the right time to ask him for the favour. Despite her best friends reasoning her not to mix business with pleasure, she just couldn’t think of anyone else to turn to. Also, if he rejected her, then she’d find something else, for sure. But, as for now, this was the best idea she came up with, and if one looked at it seriously, they’d understand it made perfect sense.

“So… I was thinking…” She started, licking her fingers clean.

“Please, don’t. It’s never good when you do!”

“Maybe when Beomgyu and I do it together, I admit, but when I do it alone…”

“And was this alone?” He cut her off, sceptical.

“Why, of course!” Y/N slapped his thigh. “Now, listen, I was thinking… About this guy… I have a crush on him, you know? And it’s been a while since it happened.”

“And?”

“And you’re friends with him... So, maybe if you could help me in this, I’ll be your slave for a week or something?! And by helping, I mean, act like a wingman and also teach me the things he likes, how to flirt with him, what to do when we finally get together, like… Intimate time and… It’d be like, for practice purpose, just so I build up enough confidence to grab his attention and ask him out.” Normally, when she was nervous, she’d start babbling nonsense. But that? That was a whole new level of nonsense. “No hard feelings if you don’t want to or anything. However, I’d really, really appreciate your guidance, because…”

“Stop! Stop!” His big hands waved next to his face, silencing her. “What the fuck are you on?!”

“I beg your pardon?” She frowned.

“Have you any idea of what came out of your mouth just now? Are you completely insane?” His eyes were wide, disbelief dripping in every word. “Y/N, I can’t j-just teach you stuff! This is something you don’t…” He paused, uncomfortable with the mere thought.

“What? If not you, then who? I don’t have a love life, Bin. I haven’t kissed a man in years!”

“I don’t know! Maybe Yeonjun? He’s sure more experienced and... H-he’s your darling dearest!”

“Are you insane?” It was her turn to ogle him as if he was an alien.

“Excuse me?”

“How can you even suggest that?!”

“Suggest what? Yeonjun?” Soobin rose to his full height, restless. “I don’t even know why we’re still on this topic; anyway, yes, he’s your favourite man on Earth, so just…”

“Precisely why he’s not even an option!” She cut him off. “How can you even suggest…!” She was baffled. “Oh my God, that’s the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard!”

“I don’t know if I should feel offended or relieved by your proposition, then.”

“No, no, no. You’re going about this in the wrong way!” Y/N groaned. “Yeonjun and I are like siblings, kindred spirits. The mere idea of being something other than it makes me feel weird.”

“But the idea of being intimate with me doesn’t? I’m not a kindred spirit to you too?!”

“It’s different.” She huffed, hesitating.

“Different how?”

“W-well, different! Different in a way you’re not a brother to me, but a best friend.” Y/N cringed at the words as they came out, knowing they didn’t sound like a compliment… But they were!

“God, you want me to help you with some guy, but somehow, I’m not even worth kindred spirit category?! You do have a way of making people feel special, Y/N.”

“Ugh, you’re making it sound like it’s a bad thing!”

“It is a bad thing, you lunatic woman!” Soobin shook his head, exasperated. “We’ll be risking our friendship, for fuck sakes! A boy and a girl can’t exactly remain friends after stuff like that.”

“Well, Yeonjunnie and I…”

“You didn’t ask Yeonjun this!”

“Well, if you don’t want to, you can just say it!”

“I just did!” He groaned, ruffling his hair again.

“Ok!” Y/N crossed her arms, pouting.

“Ok!” He mimicked her.

The silence, once comfortable, wasn’t like that anymore. She knew it could come to that result, but she really thought Soobin would say yes. Side-eyeing him, her heart clenched. They used to argue, for she was weirdly similar to Beomgyu in some ways (and he got in Soobin’s nerves often), but Y/N could never stay mad at him for too long.

“I was… It was… It was just an idea.” She relaxed her posture, offering the white flag first. “I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable… I was just desperate for a direction.”

Resting his head on the upholstered headboard, Soobin sighed, forcing his body to relax too. “I’m sorry I lost my temper.” He said. “Who is him, by the way?”

“D-Donghyuck.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, that’s huge.” And he understood her crazy mind a bit more. “I can tell you what he likes, though.” He still stood firm against getting involved with her, but that much he could help.

“Can you?”

“I can’t promise it will work, but…” He shrugged.

“It doesn’t matter, I’d love to hear it!” She reached for him, tugging at his hand with a hopeful smile. “Any little thing you remember, I want to know them all.” Her thumb stroked his skin.

Upon feeling such unusual caress, Soobin looked from their joined hands to her face, lighted-up with a spark of adoration. How did it pass him that his best friend had a crush?! How could he be blind to such changes? Was he really so nonchalant towards others?

“How long has it been?”

“Pardon?”

“Your crush, how long has it been?”

“Almost two months.” It was the first time she blushed because of a real life guy in front of him, and Soobin found it unexpectedly fascinating. “Why?”

“I was wondering why I didn’t notice it before.”

“Well, I don’t exactly go around telling people about it, nor I’ve met Donghyuck enough times for you to pick up the way I become a mess near him.”

He grinned, finding that absurd. Y/N never became a mess near anyone; in fact, she rarely gave people more than three seconds of honest attention.

“You’re not gonna like this, but his favourite food at the moment is jangeo-gui.” His smile grew at her disgusted face. “Better start appreciating eels if you wanna make him happy.”

She rolled her eyes at his teasing, but urged him to keep going.

A week later

In that boring Thursday night, Beomgyu arrived with yet another huge bowl of sweets – this time, matcha and white chocolate cookies.

“It’s out of hand! Someone has to intervene!” He whined, giving it to Y/N. “It’s your favourite.”

“I’m not really into cookies, though.”

“But you love matcha and white chocolate, so wipe this out of Earth, please. I can’t stand looking at desserts anymore!” He pouted. “Soobin is so annoying! Why is he doing this to me?”

“Pretty sure you’re not his target in anything, Beomy, but go off I guess.” Mimi chuckled.

“Then why is he baking sweets non-stop?! He knows how much I like eating them.”

“Maybe he has a lot on his mind, you know he does that when he’s thinking.” His girlfriend shrugged, eyeing Y/N. “Do you have anything to do with this or is it just a coincidence?”

“Me?” Y/N widened her eyes, faux surprise laced in her tone. “Why would I?!”

“I wonder.” Mimi quipped.

“Beomgyu!” Y/N turned to her friend.

“I can’t help, sorry.” He raised his hands in surrender.

“Yeonjunnie would!”

“Of course, he’s your darling dearest! I don’t even come in second, Soobin is there.”

“That’s not true!” She pouted. “You’re Mimi’s boyfriend, I couldn’t possibly put you in first! Besides, despite obvious reasons, you’re my favourite girl friend.”

“I hate her.” Beomgyu looked at Mimi. “I truly do.”

“How can you say that when we’re literally the same person?!” Y/N’s pout grew bigger. “Well, since I’m not cared for here, I’ll go to someone who-”

“Soobin’s not home. He went out with Yeonjun.” Beomgyu cut her off.

“Where to?”

Mimi raised an eyebrow at Y/N. The fact that she didn’t know Soobin’s schedule was enough for her to suppose the eldest one did ignore everyone’s warnings and went on with her crazy plan. And by Y/N’s intentional gaze on Beomgyu (avoiding hers), Mimi didn’t even need confirmation.

“A PC Bang. Actually, I’m quite late myself.”

“Are you going there too?”

“Nah, I’m staying home.” He stood up. “Got your things, babe?”

“Yeah, let’s go.”

“Wait, you’re leaving too?”

“Yeah, I’ll sleep there.” Mimi agreed. “Enjoy your batch of cookies and stop messing with Soobin’s head. Haera said she’ll drop by to install our cabinet, so pay attention to the doorbell.”

“Ok.” Sighing, Y/N took a cookie. “I’ll be all alone and miserable because my friends either hate me or are too busy to hang out with me.”

Beomgyu’s giggle infuriated her, and she cursed Haena and Felicia for not living in the same building. At least, if Hae really showed up, she’d have company for dinner.

It was past eleven when Y/N’s front door opened. She was tucked on the sofa, the plate with 5 matcha cookies already empty, jokingly wallowing in pity for being left out, throat tight and eyes burning with the need to cry – not for the light-hearted drama she made, but for the anime movie she watched. If she wasn’t so intended in pretending to be mad at Beomgyu, she’d text him and recommend ‘5 Centimetres per Second’. It was always gut-wrenching to deal with open endings, and by reviews, this one wouldn’t be as optimistic as Kimi no Na wa’s. At this point, one would wonder: why did she keep watching sad movies if she didn’t want to cry or feel sad?

Obviously, she wanted to challenge herself and see until when she could take it.

Before the first teardrop could break through her resolve, the electronic door-lock rang, and she sat down, surprised. Pausing the movie, Y/N searched for her phone… Haena hadn’t called, but the seven missed calls from ‘Darling dearest’ and three from ‘Binbin’ warned her beforehand.

“Yeonjunnie?!” Whoever looked at her wide grin now could never guess she was about to cry milliseconds ago. Rushing towards the man, she hugged him tightly.

“Hi, darling.” Yeonjun kissed her head. “Watcha doing? Why didn’t you pick up?”

“I was watching a movie.” Y/N gestured to the living room. “Wanna come in?”

“We’re already in, but I just dropped by to see you for a bit. I’m heading home.”

“I’ll crash here, though.” Soobin stated. “Beomgyu’s sulky because we lost and he’s blaming me… I don’t want to deal with his complaints, so I’ll spend the night. Is it ok?”

“Of course.” She agreed. “Don’t you want to stay too?” Her fingers pinched Yeonjun’s arm slightly, and Soobin wondered why she was always so quick and sure in wrapping herself around their friend, but when it came to him or anyone else, Y/N was distant.

“Nah, then we won’t get an hour of sleep.” He chuckled. “You’ll talk my ears off, and Beomgyu already did it… In screaming fashion.”

She grinned. “Looks like he wanted to piss everyone off today. I’m mad at him too.”

“That’s new. What happened?”

“He said he’s not my first option, so he didn’t defend me when I needed him to.” She shrugged, scrunching her nose a bit. “You would jump down anyone’s throat for me, wouldn’t you?”

“Without hesitating.” Yeonjun agreed. “We both would, actually. And that’s why we’re better than Beomgyu, so don’t sweat it. I’m leaving.” With another kiss on her head, he pinched her cheek and moved to the door, eyeing Soobin with a raised eyebrow. “Bye, bro.”

Soobin waved, sighing. “See ya.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay? I’d love to have a sleepover with my darling dearest and my Binbin.” She tried one last time.

“Not tonight, darling. I really need some rest.” Yeonjun lied, going out.

Truth be told, Y/N didn’t mind it that much. Her real problem was the white elephant that still lingered in the room when she was alone with Soobin.

He ignored her for the whole week, and she didn’t blame him. Y/N ignored him too. They played safe while he listed what Donghyuck liked or not, but after the topic died, she was annoyingly embarrassed, and soon excused herself home. It was their last conversation up until now. She kept herself busy during the whole weekend, then, thanks to her job, she didn’t have much time to spare until tonight. When Beomgyu told her Soobin was out with Yeonjun, her stomach did flip in relief, for she wouldn’t have to show up in his house out of nowhere, just so their friends wouldn’t notice something definitely wasn’t right with them.

She was never shy near Soobin, and he most definitely wouldn’t pretend she didn’t exist.

But he baked non-stop, leaving her a bit guilty. In a moment of repentance, she opened Instagram and followed Hyuck. Maybe she didn’t need to bring Soobin into her messy though eventless love life. Maybe she could woo Donghyuck without his (or anyone’s) help.

Facing the floor, she took a deep breath and tried to put on her best expression.

“So… Are you hungry?”

“I had dinner at the PC Bang.” He took off his shoes, taking his pair of slippers that were there.

“Oh, I see. Then, what do you wanna do now?”

“Freshen up and skincare, maybe?” Soobin suggested.

“You already know the way.” She gestured towards the rooms. “I’ll clean this up and meet you in a second.” Taking the plate, she wondered if she should tell him about the sweets. However, Soobin was already moving, and silence kept her company.

Turning off the TV, Y/N rushed to the kitchen.

There was an unsettling feeling in her stomach. He couldn’t possibly be there just because his roommate and best friend was annoying – if so, he would’ve slept in her house almost every day. And he wouldn’t most likely show up unannounced, not after what happened to them a week ago.

Which drew her to the only conclusion left: he wanted to talk to her about that.

All the baking, the ghosting, the uneasiness… Soobin had been thinking.

The bathroom had the door opened, and Y/N caught a glimpse of him in his grey sweatpants and white shirt, already changed for bed. She rested against the doorframe, unsure of the silence, but not wanting to push any buttons before reading his mood.

“Are you not joining me?” He asked, bringing her out of her trance.

“Oh, I… Of course.” Stepping in, she took his side, watching themselves in the mirror. Soobin was tall and lean, his black hair was tossed to the back thanks to her hairband. He looked tired, which only added to her guilt. “Did you and Yeonjunnie have fun tonight?”

“Yeah, it was nice.”

“I’m glad.”

He didn’t say anything else, and Y/N felt discouraged. After brushing her teeth, she started her routine and he left, saying he’d wait her in the bedroom.

To say she took her time was an understatement. She was afraid of being alone with him and that awful atmosphere around them.

However, she couldn’t spend the night in the bathroom.

Soobin wasn’t lying on the floor like he used to. He was sitting on her desk, doing something on his phone, but as soon as she showed up, he put it down.

“You couldn’t find the mattress?” She wondered.

“I was hoping we would sleep together.”

Y/N froze.

What the actual fuck?!

“I beg your pardon?”

“I meditated about your request… About Hyuck and all,” He looked at her. “and I accept it.”

If there was one thing Choi Soobin never failed to amaze her, was in his straightforwardness. He had a really non-conflict, introspective and introverted personality… But, boy, when he decided to speak his mind… He didn’t play around. When he reached his resolve, that was it.

“O-oh.” She was flabbergasted.

“So, how is this going to work? We’ll schedule classes?! Go with a more ‘unserious’ approach?”

God, he was…

Overwhelming, sometimes.

“I-I didn’t think much past the need to be helped.” Y/N confessed, feeling her mouth dry. “And you had declined before, so I just… Kind of ignored everything.”

The unsettledness in her stomach was annoying and embarrassing. She knew better than asking him if he was sure – he would never go back to this topic and change his mind if he wasn’t.

“Well, we need a plan, don’t we?”

“Yeah, sure.” Agreeing, her face coloured. “But I’m sorry, Bin, I know I requested it… But I’m not exactly in the mood to… You know… Get intimate tonight.”

“What?” He frowned.

“Don’t get me wrong, you’re handsome and all, b-but… I think I need a bit more time to…”

His chuckle announced his dimples. “Wait, did you think I was asking to have sex with you?!”

“Y-you said ‘I was hoping we would sleep together’!” She retorted, defensive. “We never slept in the same bed, so I... Y-you just had agreed with it and I…”

“I wouldn’t be so tactless, Y/N.” He cut her off, that easy smile still on his lips. “Even if it’s not our main purpose here to woo each other, I’d be more romantic about it.”

Y/N gulped, wondering why the perspective now made her feel… Bothered.

“Ok, let’s end this conversation here. I’m turning off the lights.” She reached for the light-switch. “So fucking awkward, oh my God! What did I have in mind?” Her whisper still could be heard.

“You want to back off? I can just play cupid.” He offered.

But there was no use him playing wingman if she would still feel insecure.

“No.”

“Then lay down and try to relax. Donghyuck is pretty touchy, so you have to get used to someone invading your personal space.” Soobin took his side of the bed, staring at the ceiling. “How is that you can’t leave Yeonjun alone, but when it comes to anyone else, you look uncomfortable?”

“I honestly don’t know. As far as I’m concerned, it’s always been like that.” She shrugged. “I also like it when you hug me and stuff, though you don’t do it often.” Y/N was thankful for the dark, ‘cause this way he wouldn’t catch her blushing (again).

“I thought you didn’t like it, so I held back.”

“Well, I do.” Y/N felt his body warm next to her, pulling the covers over them.

Soobin turned around, facing her profile. His hand found her arm, tracing her skin while going up and down. There was something heavily intimate about the way her breath caught, and he felt his chest tighten at the quiet sound. “Is this alright?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me about the movie.” He asked, knowing some distraction would help ease her out.

“It’s an open ending like ‘Kimi no Na wa’, but from what I understood from the reviews, it doesn’t hint at happiness.” She turned to him, too, and his hand slid to her waist. “B-Bin?”

“But what is the plot? Why did you decide to watch it?” His fingers explored from her waist to her back, urging her closer. “C’mere, I wanna hug you.”

Hugging Choi Soobin was one of a mortal’s most preferred activities, she was sure. On the rare occasions they hugged, Y/N almost melted against him. He had the perfect amount of comfort, warmth and strength… And, again, he smelled so good she wanted to truly dissolve into him.

“It’s divided in three parts.” She moved, being caged by his arms. “W-what should I do now?”

“Hug me back, silly.” He chuckled, and her face was pressed against his chest, letting her feel the vibration of that cute sound. “Keep going, don’t get distracted by this.”

“Easy to say, since you like skinship!” Y/N groaned.

“You’re reading too much into it, it’s just a hug. Relax.” His big hands kept moving on her back, scratching it slightly, like her mom used to do when she was younger and had trouble sleeping.

“Fuck, I must look so pathetic right now.” She looked up, meeting his eyes.

It was dark, the city lights doing a poor job of brightening the room a bit, but Y/N could still see the gleam in those soft boba eyes of his. The blush on her face deepened, heart skipping a bit. Could it be that because it had been so long since she was in a man’s arms (that wasn’t Yeonjun), any minor interaction would have her mind running wild?! Because she felt so confused in how to behave there – should she mimic the caress? Should she rest her face next to his neck, or keep it where it was? Should she turn around and be the small spoon?

“No, you don’t.” His voice was slightly hoarse. “I’ve wanted to do this for so long, but I didn’t know how you’d react. It was really hard to spend anime nights feet apart.”

The confession took her by surprise. “Why is that people care so much about skinship?”

“I’m not sure, but to me, there’s some kind of next-level comfort in it.”

“You’re just touch starved.” She rolled her eyes, noticing his smile widening. Such a pity the dark shadowed his dimples! “However, I’ll admit it’s quite nice.”

“Better than Yeonjun’s?”

“Oh, know your limits.”

Now he laughed, and his body shook a little, grip tightening in reflex. Y/N swallowed the truth: hugging him had absolutely nothing to do with hugging her darling dearest… And it was scaring.

Three days later

Donghyuck offered her a beer and winked. She felt her heart clenching, forcing a smile back.

It was the fourth time she met Hyuck out of a PC Bang. Sometimes she’d join Soobin there, not to play any games he liked, but just to be out of the house a bit. Tonight, she wasn’t feeling like staying home, but didn’t want the noisy mess of the PC Bang… So, her amazing friend suggested they met for chimek after he finished his hours there.

Therefore, here she was, sat between his tall body and Yeonjun’s comforting presence, staring at the guy in front of her with heart-eyes and rosy cheeks… Thankfully, she could blame the alcohol.

“Oh, thank you.” She hoped her voice was steady.

“I saw your Stories yesterday about the Flying Yoga class.” Hyuck grinned. “Soobin aced it.”

“He did, didn’t he?!” Her face relaxed into a more natural smile.

“I still feel my crotch burning and my leg circulation being cut out.” Yeonjun laughed.

“If I was there, I’d be like Beomgyu and scream the whole time.” Donghyuck commented. “I still can’t believe he agreed to it.” The grin on his heart-shaped mouth was enough to make her gulp.

God, she wanted to kiss that man so fucking bad it was embarrassing.

“The instructor didn’t appreciate it, but it made the pain bearable because I got distracted laughing at him.” Y/N replied, not wanting to waist a second without engaging with him.

“I might’ve been the MVP, but Y/N has the best flexibility.” Soobin said, letting his hand rest on her thigh and giving her knee a pinch. “She does Pilates, you know?”

Donghyuck looked at her, interested. “Oh.”

“Do you play any sports, Hyuck?”

“A bit of football, badminton… But nothing too extreme.” He shrugged. “I invited Soobin once to join my football team, but he said he preferred not moving an inch from his bed.”

“He’s a homebody, unfortunately. I had to almost cry in order to drag him to the class.” She chuckled. “I bring him to the gym two to three times a week, but he whines all the time.”

“I might try Pilates with you if you want, sounds quieter and easier.” Soobin offered.

“Tsk, he got so cocky after the Flying Yoga episode.” She playfully rolled her eyes.

Before they could comment on anything else, the waiter brough their fried chicken. As always, a variety of flavours were ordered, so they could indulge without restriction.

Something shifted between them.

Soobin noticed it during dinner – not when Y/N begged him to ‘teach her’ to flirt and all that. His lingering touches might’ve just cracked open something inside her, or a switch had been flipped and she was now a different person… Not that he was gonna complain. He absolutely melted when he took his hand off her thigh, and not a second later, she reached out for him again, linking their arms. And throughout the rest of the night, she just wouldn’t leave him alone.

Walking back home, she remained glued to him.

“Maybe we could’ve g0ne to the club with them…”

“You want to? I can take you there.” Soobin typed his password.

“Do you?”

“Nah.”

“Then I don’t, either.”

He chuckled, letting her inside first. “You’re funny.”

“If you think about it, it’s better this way. I wouldn’t know what to do if Donghyuck flirted with someone, and I’m not exactly ready to be on his radar yet.” She took off her shoes, sighing.

“What is it that you’re so afraid off?”

“I don’t know… It’s been so long and I feel like an insecure teenage girl.”

He hummed. “Well, lucky for you I exist.”

“I swear people assume you’re shy and introverted, but are not aware of your conceited ass.”

“The fact that I prefer being left alone doesn’t mean I’m ugly.” He shrugged, smirking. “You know, these dimples made a bunch of girls cry in high school and college.”

“So I’ve been told.” Y/N pretended to be unphased. “Are you gonna game now?”

“Nope. I think we should finally decide on our plan, no?” Soobin had to hold back another chuckle, for he found it funny that she was avoiding this talk when she was the one to request his help.

“Right now?”

“I don’t see a better time. C’mon Y/N, do you want Donghyuck or not?!”

“I do, but it’s embarrassing to be this inexperienced at my age and let people know about it!”

“Don’t think like that, there’s not a right time for this… People experience love when they have to.”

Her smile was shy, but she felt so glad Soobin was in her life. Not even once he made fun of her insecurities, he was respecting her boundaries and trying to get her off her shell slowly, so she wouldn’t be overwhelmed. Yeah, he did call her a lunatic before, but she could understand where he came from – if he was the one asking such favour, she’d react the same.

That’s why he was so right for the role.

“Thank you.”

His dimples broke in for the nth time, but it was different. This time, she felt the impulse.

“What?” Soobin frowned slightly, noticing her weird expression.

“N-nothing.” Y/N cleared her throat. “Just trying to remember if I brought back my clean pyjamas from home… Or else I’ll have to go upstairs to fetch one.”

“You did, I put it in my stuff. Let’s go, then.”

She gathered her thoughts, trying to reason with them. It made sense, albeit embarrassing. She spent the evening with Hyuck, and Soobin being the chosen one for helping her, it was only natural she’d feel some kind of magnetic force pulling her to him… They were about to discuss strategies that’d take her to Donghyuck. It was obvious she’d fantasise about kissing Soobin.

Because they would kiss each other… At some point.

Ever the gentleman, Soobin let Y/N use the bathroom first. She changed clothes, flossed, brushed her teeth and did her skincare. After that, she laid on his bed while he finished his night routine.

All the time, her mind spiralled between Hyuck’s playful smirk and a way to get it directed at her. He was such a funny guy, his aura pretty welcoming, and if Y/N didn’t spend the whole evening drooling over him, she’d notice how easy it would be to become friends with him – and then, she’d could try being something more. However, she’d just have to get rid of her shyness first. Nothing would work if she kept in her shell, insecure and afraid of letting her true self come out again.

“A penny for your thoughts.” Soobin wondered, slipping in the bed too.

Y/N shuffled to the wall, giving him some room. “How do I stop being shy?”

“Uh… If I knew, I probably wouldn’t be shy myself.” He grinned at her bored face. “But I think you either are born like that, or you get there through trauma.”

“I was born like that… But something happened and I withdraw completely… I can’t remember what, though.” She sighed. “Do you think Hyuck would mind if I’m quieter in the beginning?”

“I think he’d like someone calmer than him, yeah.” Soobin mused. “So, our plan…?”

She groaned, turning to face him. “What do guys like? How does one tickle their interest?”

“Hmm… It’s different for each guy, but normally having a pretty face and a pretty body do the trick.” He couldn’t help but chuckle, knowing she was getting annoyed. “But I know you already know this… So, we can try to find out if he thinks you’re pretty.”

“How?”

“Do you guys follow each other on Instagram?”

“Yeah, I followed him first.”

“It doesn’t matter. Did he like a picture or something?”

“The last posted.”

“Nice.” Then he frowned. “Fuck, Y/N, your last picture posted is from two years ago!”

“Well, yeah, but…” She pouted. “You know I’m not into Instagram!”

“You’re going to have to be more active, though. At least in the start, just so you keep fresh on his mind. Like, every time he opens the app, there you are.” Soobin smiled. “Do you have Tinder?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Well, maybe if you matched on Tinder, you could crack a joke or something… It can be a good topic. He might like a girl that jokes around like he does.”

She sighed, seeing his point. “But what if he isn’t there? What if–”

“He is there.” Soobin stated. “Now, we just need to know if you’d match. Where’s your phone? Let’s set your profile up right away.”

“You’re enjoying this now, aren’t you?” Y/N gave up resisting, touching the mattress, searching for the device. He giggled cutely when her fingers pinched his waist, and she couldn’t help but smile at him too. “Here, you were laying on it.”

She let him do everything, snuggling closer and breathing his sweet cologne, answering his questions whenever needed. Being this close to him was a whole new state of cosiness, and she was actually living for it. Yes, he was bony and thinner than she actually enjoyed, but Soobin was warm and soothing in a way that didn’t match his body.

He even decided on her profile picture, mumbling quietly that she looked pretty.

“Tomorrow we’ll continue this, ok?” Blocking her phone, he put it on the bedside table. “So, apart from Tinder and Instagram, what else?”

“Shouldn’t you be the one guiding?”

“Not like that, silly. I mean, what else are you insecure about? What do you think you’ll need me?”

“You already told me some of his preferences, so I feel confident enough to start a conversation… Well, if I stop drooling over him whenever he’s near.” She chuckled. “But… Bin, what do people do in a date? I’ve never been to one, you know.”

“Never?”

“Never.”

“Never ever?”

“Are you deaf?”

“Sorry, I’m just surprised. Why not?! Not even when you were in high school?”

“Well, I didn’t exactly give boys many signs I wanted to be asked in one.” She shrugged.

“Wow… I feel… Weird about this information?” He frowned. “So maybe we should focus on that, no? Like… How about we go on a fake date? I’ll try to find out what type of date Donghyuck usually goes and we mimic them, so it’ll be easier for you.”

“You’re the best, Bin.” Y/N pinched his arm, appreciating the effort.

“I know.”

A week later

A fucking amusement park.

Yeah, she probably should’ve seen it coming.

Not that she was upset by Donghyuck’s/Soobin’s choice… Maybe a first date wasn’t exactly supposed to be romantic at all, for people didn’t know if they’d click or not.

Everland was a good place, there were nice rides, sightseeing in a cute zoo and great food. Keeping it a secret from their friends, so they could come alone, both left home early – also planning to avoid the huge crowd for as long as possible, and to enjoy the day to the fullest.

As soon as they entered, Soobin suggested they bought a souvenir, so they could get into their couple persona. He chose a red panda hat, and she ended up with a normal panda one.

“What do you want to do first? See the animals, go for the rides or eat something?”

“We ate not an hour ago, Bin. Let’s see the animals, then we go for the best part.” She grinned. “I want to ride the Seater Human Sky for Zootopia. Can we?”

“Of course.” He searched for her hand, intertwining their fingers. “I’m sure Hyuck will touch you without hesitating, so I’m trying to behave like he probably will.” Not that he needed to explain himself, but he did anyway. “Let me buy these, and then we’re good to go.”

“Oh, alright.” Y/N gave him her hat. If he wanted to pay, she wouldn’t dodge out of politeness. This was a fake date, ok, but she should act like she would in a real one.

They visited all animals, spending almost the whole morning on it. Lots of pictures were taken, and although Y/N was used to talk a lot, she kept relatively quiet. Sometimes, they would look at each other and laugh, because it was funny to keep asking those first-base questions while already knowing the answers… And every time his dimples showed up or his huge hand touched her, she was reminded that it was her best friend there, not Donghyuck.

And, at some point, she messed up.

Maybe after they finished their tour in American Adventure and went for lunch… Or during the T-Express ride, for rollercoasters always lifted their spirits (and they were still high from the Rolling X-Train experience)… The way he was beaming with satisfaction made her stomach churn.

With the sunset colouring the skies, they left the park with an unsettling feeling.

The trip home was silent, with Soobin falling asleep as soon as the bus took off, and Y/N listening to her playlist, looking at the photos they took throughout the day and erasing those that were blurred or snapped by mistake. She sent one of Fu Bao to Yeonjun, knowing how much he loved the panda. Then, amidst cute animals, she found a video of Soobin’s side profile. He had his dimples on full display, and his… Cocky smile too?

Y/N could hear herself talking behind the camera, but she couldn’t make up the words, too startled by the realisation that he was really handsome. Closing the gallery app, she sighed and tried to get some rest too. There was no point in entertaining such thoughts.

Less than an hour later, they were walking back to their building. Soobin said he’d drop her off, like a gentleman would obviously do, and kept his hand on hers the whole two-blocks distance.

“Will you go up too?” She wondered.

“It’ll be too forward for a first date, won’t it?”

“Well, I don’t know? You do live here, after all.”

“But Donghyuck doesn’t.”

Donghyuck… Yeah, of course.

“Right.” She cleared her throat. “Then, goodbye. I had a lovely and funny time today.”

“I’m glad.” He smiled softly. “We should do it again.”

“I’d love that.” Y/N got on the tip of her feet. “Goodnight, Bin. I m-mean, Hyuck.” She kissed his cheek (more like his jawline) and almost ran towards the building entrance.

Pressing her floor number while trying to conceal her exaggerated and annoying heartbeat, any idea of peace vanished as Soobin’s tall frame occupied the other side of the elevator.

“I do live here, after all.” His voice was light, tinted with mirth.

There it was again, the slightly cocky, patronising smirk.

She looked at the ground, confused by her own reaction. They kept silent except for the usual ‘Goodbye’ when he arrived at his floor first.

Typing her password, Y/N entered her house feeling dizzy.

Something was wrong. Something was really wrong and she only had her celibacy to blame! Taking off her shoes, she sat down on the hall, ruffling her hair and groaning in exasperation. However, before she could give in to a tantrum, the doorbell rang. Confused, she opened it without checking. Her closest friends knew the password, but maybe…

Barely registering the black hair and known warmth, Y/N was pressed against the wall, Soobin towering over her, bringing her jaw up and smashing his mouth against hers.

Her body froze, mind going blank at the unexpected touch.

She remained unresponsive for a second or two, trying to overcome the initial shock. It was enough for him to back off, misunderstanding her lack of reaction. He was still a breath away, though, his nose bumping into hers as he looked her in the eyes.

“I’m sorry, I don-”

She cut the distance, kissing him again. Really doing it now.

Her arms circled around his neck, pulling him closer, moaning at the way his fingers tugged on her hair, tilting her face up. His tongue took advantage of her open mouth, slipping inside and starting its conquest. Y/N felt putty in his embrace, puzzled and consumed by the caress. She thought that those years of being romance-deprived would have turned her into an inexperienced girl once again, but it didn’t look like that.

She knew what to do, and her body seemed to understand it as well.

And even if she didn’t, it was clear Soobin did.

Shivering at the reminding of her kissing her best friend, something burned inside her. She felt bolder, nails scratching his nape and mingling with the soft strands of his hair. He groaned like a defeated warrior, pressing her harder between the wall and his body.

The whole fire made a known path, and Y/N snapped back into reality.

“Bin-?!” She pushed him away, gasping for air at the same time.

He looked at her through heavy lids, the light in the hall being enough to let her see his dark eyes gleaming with a mixture of emotions she also felt. Nevertheless, all that seemed to be swept aside when he blinked, a controlled and neutral expression taking over.

“Donghyuck would kiss you after the first date. I’m sure he would.”

And just like that, Soobin killed the spark.

The first contact after the events of the other night was awkward.

Upon feeling his hands on her, for their usual hug as a greeting, her voice cracked and her heart raced, the heat of embarrassment creeping up her spine. When their eyes met, her breath caught, remembering the way he looked at her seconds before shoving her right back in reality.

‘Donghyuck would kiss you after the first date. I’m sure he would.’

She was mad at herself for being mad at Soobin for saying that. Wasn’t finally being with Hyuck the sole purpose of all that?! Why was she a bit depressed he kissed her with that in mind?!

Was she so affection starved that she would start fantasising about Soobin now?

Pathetic.

“‘Seeing Fu Bao without my darling dearest to assert dominance.’” Yeonjun scoffed, showing her his phone – opened on her IG Story.

“She’s my rival, I had to.” Y/N shrugged. She had just posted one of Fu Bao’s videos from the date, because Soobin requested her to be more active on her social media. She’d added Hyuck on her Close Friends, hoping it would be a good hint of her true intentions.

“Your rival?” Yeonjun frowned.

“You love her a lot… It bothers me.”

“You love Soobin a lot and I don’t consider him my rival.”

“It’s different!”

“Why?”

“I don’t love him like I love you.” Y/N pouted.

“She’s so open about her favouritism.” Haena chuckled. “Sorry, Soobs.”

“I’ve been warned about this before, so I’m kinda numb to the pain.” Soobin jested. “It’s not nice losing to him, but I can manage being second.” He eyed Beomgyu. “At least I’m not third.”

“Well, I have a girlfriend and Y/N respects the fact my girlfriend is my favourite always!” Gyu retorted, a hand on his heart as if he felt offended. “And she can’t make me her favourite, either.”

“But you’re not the second, Bin!” Y/N pleaded, feeling her stomach sink a bit. “You’re…”

“Your best friend, Yeonjun’s your brother. Yeah, I know.” He commented, pouring himself some beer. “You told me that already.” On the day she asked him for that absurd favour… He was glad she seemed a bit ashamed of being biased, at least.

Y/N gulped, going quiet too soon. Normally, she’d argue, trying to make her point. Right now, though, she didn’t have the energy nor the facts to fight him.

Because things have changed.

More than ever, she was so painfully aware that what she felt for Yeonjun had nothing to do with what she felt for Soobin. She couldn’t even fathom doing more than some specific skinship with Yeonjun without feeling like committing incest… Whereas with Soobin, her mind entertained some different thoughts altogether – as outrageous as they should be.

It only took one kiss, and all the platonic, ‘academic research’ notion she had of Soobin crumbled.

She really believed she’d be immune to whatever happened between them, because Donghyuck was exactly what she wanted… However, she didn’t consider the impact of her celibacy. Y/N was painfully starved for attention and intimacy, and Soobin made her aware of that.

The sooner she got a grip of herself, the better.

That’s why she was there, pretending nothing had happened.

The second contact after the events of the other night was slightly better.

Soobin texted her saying he’d game with the boys, and asked if she wanted to join. Twenty minutes later, Y/N was lying on his bed, reading, while he played.

“What are we having for dinner?”

He looked over his shoulder. “I’ve no idea. What do you suggest?” He frowned. “No, not you. I’m talking to Y/N.” Soobin murmured to his headset. “Yeah, she’s here.”

Sitting on his bed, she stared at his computer screen as if he was on a videocall. “Who is it?”

“Hyuck says hi, Yeonjun is apologising for ignoring you on your chat.”

“I see.” She smiled. “Tell him I’m never talking to him again, and tell Hyuck I said hi back.”

“She’s not talking to you ever again, dude. And she said hi, Donghyuck.”

“Anyway, I’m thinking hot pot thoughts… Or sweet and sour pork.” Y/N suggested.

“Why not both?” He chuckled, listening to his friends on the call. “Yeonjun said you can’t spend more than thirty minutes ignoring him, so he’s not feeling exactly threatened.”

She sucked a breath, pretending to be offended. Crawling to the end of the bed, behind his chair, she turned him around and tugged at the headset, bringing the microphone closer to her mouth. “Is this a challenge, Yeonjun? Because I’d love to prove you wrong!”

“Wow, she said ‘Yeonjun’!” Beomgyu hollered, and she could hear his voice from his room.

“I’d feel pretty much threatened right now, bro.” Soobin stared at her, taking in the small distance between them. Their noses were centimetres away, breaths fanning over each other. His eyelids dropped as he tilted his head just a bit, unconsciously giving into her magnetic field.

As if electrified, Y/N stepped back. “B-both, then.” She cleared her throat. “Gonna order it.”

The third time, she met him at the entrance hall, after coming back from the gym. He was getting out of the lift and she was entering it – they collided, her sweaty head bumping into his chest.

“Fuck, sorry.” Y/N petted the moist spot, as if it’d disappear.

“Morning.” He smiled. “It’s ok, it’ll dry in no time.”

“Are you going to work?”

“Nah, going to grab something for breakfast… Wanna join me?”

Y/N wanted to melt on the floor, glad for the atmosphere between them not being awkward anymore. “Of course, if you don’t mind the stink.”

“I don’t.” He took her hand. “Morning.”

It was her time to grin, intertwining their fingers. “Morning, Binbin.”

The first tray of brownies was just out of the oven when Beomgyu walked into the kitchen.

“Am I going to have to eat all of it?” He pointed at the hot tray.

“Uh… No?”

“Why are you freaking out?”

“I’m not freaking out.”

“Dude, it’s been a week since you went back on your cooking therapy.”

Yeah, and it’d been a little over a week since he kissed Y/N.

It’d been over a week since they seemed to go back and forth on walking in eggshells. And he knew she was having some kind of mental breakdown due to that, ‘cause was he too.

Not that kissing her wasn’t riveting. It had been a while since he kissed a girl, and his body just reacted to that. He was intrigued by his own response. However, he was already regretting giving in to her schemes… Because he could foresee the imminent rupture in their friendship, could taste the awkwardness that was settling between them.

And yeah, maybe Beomgyu was right – he was freaking out.

He was panicking at the mere thought of losing his best friend.

“I just enjoy cooking, what is wrong with that?” Soobin knew he sounded defensive, but he wasn’t able to come up with a better rebut.

“Ok, keep telling yourself that.” Beomgyu rolled his eyes. “Is Y/N coming down? ‘Cause I’m coming up, Mimi and I will go to the arcade tonight.”

“Why would she come down?”

“Well, aren’t you guys working on getting her into Hyuck’s pants?”

Soobin froze. “What the f…”

“You really thought you two could keep this a secret from everyone?”

“N-no, but… You could use nicer words.”

Beomgyu tilted his head, pouting. “Aren’t you guys trying to turn her into a Sex Goddess?”

“Oh God, why do I even bother?!” Soobin shook his head, glaring at the ceiling for a brief second.

“I don’t know, either.” He chuckled. “Is she coming or not?”

“No.”

“Give her a piece, at least. I’m gonna get fat at this rate!” Turning around, he waved. “See ya. I’ll probably sleep upstairs, so don’t wait for me.”

Sighing, Soobin waved back. “Alright; have fun. Bye!”

He stared at the oven for a solid minute, contemplating what to do.

Whenever he had an opportunity, he’d mention Y/N to Hyuck. Things like how funny and pretty she was, something cute she did, a tender memory he had of her… And all those times, Hyuck listened with regard. But what use would that be if she still felt insecure?! That’s why he got a grip of himself and opened their chat – they should have another lesson.

[18:43] soobin: r u busy?

Almost a minute later, she replied.

[18:44] y/n: no… why?

[18:44] soobin: i baked two trays of brownie 🥺

[18:44] y/n: choi soobin

u r literally the best thing that has ever happened to me!!!!!

see u in a second

[18:45] soobin: 😋

It was pathetic that she took some time to get ready. Normally, Y/N wouldn’t even bother changing her clothes… However, she decided to drop her old and comfy nightgown for her brand-new pyjama set, an emerald-green satin shorts and button-down shirt. It was one of her favourite colours and Soobin used to say it looked really good on her.

Cringing at the perspective of fishing for compliments, Y/N pinched her cheeks and cleared her throat, walking out of the elevator as if each step didn’t make her confused mind a bigger chaos. Typing the password, she was greeted by the delicious smell of brownies. Heading to the kitchen, she took a second to prepare herself to face him again.

“Binbin?”

He turned around from the sink, opening one of his marvellous smiles. “Hi there.”

“So… Am I getting a whole tray for myself, or will I have to share with Beomgyu?”

“A whole tray for yourself… If you help me out here.” Soobin chuckled.

“Maybe sharing isn’t that bad?” She jested. “It keeps me humble.”

“Humbleness doesn’t suit you, Y/N. You’re made to look down on us, mere mortals.”

“That’s so sweet of you.” She pretended to dry her eyes, grabbing the kitchen towel.

“The only person you think is actually above yourself is Yeonjun, and don’t even try to tell me I’m wrong.” He nudged her with his elbow. “I know you better than I know myself.”

Y/N felt her stomach dropping.

Did he?

Was it possible he knew that whenever those dimples came out, she felt… The impulse again?

And because she was so confused with her own reactions, she decided to bring up the safer topic.

“Donghyuck asked me about the leather workshop class we took, he said he liked your wallet and you told him we went there and did it together.”

“I’m trying to bring you up in any opportunity I get.” Soobin agreed. “And what else happened?”

“Nothing much, we chatted a bit about it and then he said he’d try to book a class.” She sighed. “He didn’t ask for my number, Bin. It was the perfect excuse for it! Or he could’ve just said ‘Do you want to join me on it, again?’” She pouted. “I couldn’t find him on Tinder either!”

“I know it’s frustrating, but… Maybe we’re approaching this the wrong way?!” Finishing washing the last dirty dish, Soobin looked at her. “We need a party.” He declared. “Hyuck likes them, and if he sees you in a different light, with a different mood altogether, I’m sure he’ll get hooked.” By the way she hesitated, he knew exactly what was going on. “You’re insecure about it, aren’t you?”

“What if I mess it up?”

“That’s why I’m here, isn’t it?”

Y/N stared at him, conflicted between playing it cool or being honest. They were best friends, for fuck sakes! She trusted him and he trusted her back – and getting him to help her was their main purpose, as he had pointed out.

“What do you have in mind, then?” She sounded so vulnerable Soobin’s heart melted.

But before he could say anything else, he needed to get some things straight. He wouldn’t survive going another week with that weird and distant vibe between them. This next lesson would be different from any other, and he needed to know she was ready to go through it.

That their friendship was ready to take the blow and don’t die from it.

“What did you feel when I kissed you?”

She froze. “I beg your pardon?”

“That day when we went on a date… When I kissed you like Donghyuck would, what did you feel after?” His eyes searched for hers, but she shied away, staring at the towel on her hand.

“I… Well… I noticed that I’m really desperate.” Y/N cleared her throat, hating the way she felt so small and embarrassed at her own neediness.

“Desperate for what?”

“Intimacy. Anything a man can give me.” The words came out rushed. “And it’s so annoying.”

He frowned at her confession. He expected her to say something along the lines like ‘desperate for Donghyuck’, but she didn’t. “Why is it annoying, though? It’s normal to want to be wanted.”

“Yes, I know, but… I feel like I missed my timing. It’s weird to never have dated at my age; and what if Donghyuck thinks there’s something wrong with me?!”

“Only stupid men think stuff like these, Y/N. Normal and nice boys know everyone has their own time to blossom and don’t rush nor judge others.”

She looked up, finding him already staring at her. His soft boba eyes shone with tenderness and resolve, as if what he said was the absolutely truth.

“You’re really a different brand of man, Choi Soobin.” She gave him a small smile. “And really one of the best things that has ever happened to me.”

“You flatter me.” He chuckled. “But I asked that because I think the best way for you to feel more confident is knowing that you can entice even when being ‘inexperienced’. ‘Cause, honestly, I didn’t even remember you hadn’t kissed a man in ages when we were kissing.” He confessed. “It just downed me later on, because things were awkward between us, and I got pissed off that we let it come to that and you didn’t tell me how you felt. I don’t like us distant.”

“Me neither.” She sighed.

“So let’s promise we won’t be like that again, or else I can’t help you.”

Y/N bit her lip, hesitating again. “But what if I can’t…”

“Then we’ll end everything.” He cut her off. “I don’t read minds, Y/N. If you don’t tell me what’s bothering you, how can I be of help?!”

“Alright. I’ll try.”

“No, darling, you’ll do it.” He shook his head. “I’m not letting our friendship on thin ice anymore.”

“Oh, ok, Bin! I’ll do it.” Rolling her eyes, she stuck her pinkie up.

“Good girl.” Their fingers touched. “So no more awkwardness no matter what we do.”

“And if one feels uneasy, we got to be vocal about it.”

His eyes darkened slightly, wondering (without his own permission) about what else Y/N would be vocal about. Clearing his throat, he pointed to the brownies. “Fancy some before we move on?”

“Yeah, it’ll be good to ease me up.”

“I wanted to put caramel in, but you complained about eating too much candy recently and I know how you love caramel, so I decided to make it plain, so you won’t feel sad if you don’t eat much.”

She smiled, touched by the gesture. “Thanks.”

“Here, take a bite.” He offered a piece.

It wasn’t something unusual, they normally did this… However, this time her eyes spent a little longer analysing his hand – the pretty and veiny forearm, how the brownie looked so small compared to his palm, how close his fingertips were from her mouth… And suddenly, she could see herself in one of those luxury porn movies, where any minor action was made to entice – so, instead of taking a bite, she’d lick on his digits, sucking them as if…

Y/N almost stuffed the whole piece in her mouth, hoping its taste would erase such confusing and horrible thoughts. God, what she needed was professional help!

Soobin had a fond smile, always glad that she liked his food. “Easy there, love. You’ll get a whole batch for yourself.” Some crumbles stuck to her face, gathering on her lower lip and at the side of her mouth while she chewed. “Do you like it that much?! You got dirt all over.”

Y/N remained quiet while he dusted the crumbles off. She felt like melting under his touch and gaze, goosebumps blooming from her spine to her head. The brownie tasted good, obviously, but the sensations didn’t come from its flavour or perfectly gooey texture… Out of habit, he licked the tip of his fingers clean, and that’s when she noticed she’d been too silent.

“Sorry, you know I like sweets.”

“It’s ok. Having you acting like this strokes my ego.” The dimples showed up again as he grinned.

Her heart thumped heavily against her chest, and whatever sane thoughts she had, slipped off her mind when she got on her tiptoes and ended the distance between them.

She kissed him.

She was still kissing him.

And when his arm circled her waist, pulling her up against the kitchen counter, she wished she’d never stop kissing him at all. The hand on her face slid to her nape, fingers threading in her hair and tugging it slightly, pushing her chin up so they could change the angle. As they got closer, his hips came in between her legs, the arm around her waist slipped a bit under her pyjama shirt, and the feeling of his skin against hers was overwhelming.

It was also embarrassing, honestly.

They were still dressed, but she felt so warm, so desperate for more contact, more action…

Then, as if reading her mind, Soobin bit her lower lip while pressing his crotch against hers. That earned him a bittersweet response: she froze, hands gripping his shoulders and eyes widening.

“What happened?” He asked, mouth still on her.

“I-If we keep… We shouldn’t be doing this.”

“But isn’t stuff like this the reason you need my help?”

He was right, of course.

“I’m not sure how to… What should I…?”

“Maybe you could circle me with your legs?” He suggested. “If I was Donghyuck, what would do?”

She gulped, musing. “I’d probably jump his bones.”

“Then jump mine.” He stated. “Pretend I’m him.”

Her eyes clouded, conflicted between obeying or trying to resist. “Here? At the kitchen?”

“We’re alone, relax.” At her intake of breath, he chuckled. “Try to, at least.”

“But won’t it be too uncomfortable?”

His grin grew bigger. “Y/N, you think too much.” He pecked her lips. “Stop thinking, just… Just feel.” His mouth touched her jawline, and she immediately closed her eyes. Soobin nibbled on her skin, leaving love bites on the column of her neck. It was impulsive, not really him wanting to mark his territory, but just… Him reacting to the moment. He quietly undid some buttons of her shirt, but before pushing it off, he needed to know if it was still ok. “Are you ok?”

Y/N was half in heaven, half in hell. “Yes… It’s so warm in here, isn’t it?”

“So can I take this off?” He touched the last button.

“Yes.” Their eyes met, and she hoped he could see the trust in hers.

Tossing the satin on the floor, Soobin’s attention flew to her chest. She was wearing one of her cotton bras, black and plain, but somehow… “You look so pretty in green, but now I realise you look better in black.” He murmured, kissing her cleavage. Her head fell back, a sharp breath that sounded more like a strangled moan coming out of her mouth. Her legs tightened around his body, silently telling him he was doing it right. “Shall I take this off too?” He traced the straps.

“Please.”

It’s been ages since a man had seen her naked, but somehow, the fact that it was Soobin put her at ease. Yes, she might’ve been feeling insecure, however, as they kissed, her neediness surpassed every other emotion… And it was Soobin, for fuck sakes! He was her best friend!

He unfastened her bra and let it loose. Discarding it too, he noticed his mouth watered a bit at the sight of her perk nipples – it was only natural that his big hands groped her boobs, slender and skilled fingers pinching the skin before he dipped his head down, taking one in his mouth.

The moan came out loud and clear, Y/N’s body jolting forward at the sensation. She felt his wet tongue around the beak, licking and sucking on it, his warm touch engulfing her from her waist to her ribs, then to her shoulders, fingertips burning figures everywhere they reached. And it was too much. Pulling at his hair, she brought their lips together once again, needing him, desperate for him. Her hips pressed strongly against his, humping him.

“Bin,” The nickname rolled out with ease, despite the fact she was supposed to imagine Donghyuck there. “Bin, I need more.” Her voice was muffled by open-mouthed kisses. “Please. More.”

And because he was such a gentleman, he couldn’t say no.

He actually didn’t want to.

“More of what? You gotta use your words, love. I want to help you, but I don’t know how.” He lied, touching her boobs again, loving how they felt under his palms.

“Fuck.” She kissed his jawline, legs so tight around his hips that he couldn’t escape her grip. “If we keep doing this, I’ll probably cum.” She tried to reason.

“Do you want to?”

“Desperately.”

His smirk was out of this world. He had that easy, roguish kind of smile, and Y/N felt her insides twirling at the sight. “How?” Although he was supposed to guide her in this, he wanted so bad to hear her desires. Soobin was sure he’d do anything she wanted as long as she kept that flushed expression and cute moans coming out. “Tell me how.” It was almost a plea.

“I-I’m not…” Well, he really was there to help her, so she shouldn’t be ashamed of asking for what she wanted. “I need your fingers.”

His breath hitched slightly, ears buzzing with every word echoing in his mind.

“My fingers? Where, love?” He knew he wasn’t pushing her too far. If she only could step outside her comfort zone a centimetre more…

And when she reached for him, taking one of his hands and sliding it down her belly towards her pussy, Soobin hoped he wouldn’t forget a second of that dizzy, surprising night.

“Here.” Her voice was breathy, laced with wanton and shyness. “Inside me.”

Oh, fuck.

Kissing her again, he rubbed her thighs, prying them open and unlocking them off his waist. He kept his touch pretty close to her crotch, but never coming too close to where she wanted.

“I’ll take off your shorts now, ok?”

She shivered slightly while he rolled the green satin off her hips. When the fabric was discarded, he analysed her, taking in every inch of exposed skin, and Soobin licked his lips, anticipating.

“No panties?”

“I only use them with pyjamas when I’m on my period.” She confessed.

His eyes widened, realisation kicking in. “So whenever we slept together, you were…”

“Pantie-less.” She agreed, blush intensifying.

“Fuck, Y/N.” He groaned, dick twitching at the thought. “So cheeky.”

“It’s healthy to let it breath!” She pouted, defensive.

“I’m not judging, though.” Soobin stole a peck. “I’m just surprised because I didn’t know.”

“Well, now you do.”

“Now I do, yeah.”

Their eyes met, and he couldn’t describe what he saw in hers. However, it was enough to make him react hungrily, latching his mouth on hers once more, a hand slipping between their bodies, resting right on her pretty cunt. She moaned into the kiss as soon as his fingers caressed her, pads gathering some slick before finding purchase on her clit.

It was rather embarrassing, but just the feeling of him there was enough to make her cum.

She felt so overwhelmed and horny she was sure if she stood up, a puddle would be where she sat, but the way Soobin worked her up was so good, she couldn’t help herself. And it’d been so long…

It was impossible to keep her focus, the pleasure so foreign and delicious – thus, she just rested her forehead against his, locking their eyes and basking in those amazing sensations. His hand drove slightly down again, coating in her wetness before plugging a finger inside her without warning. Her breath hitched, lips parting for a whiny moan to escape. His brown orbs, once gentle and patient, now ogled her with hunger and desire. He moved, testing the speed until he got a loud sob from her, hips bucking slightly as he drove in and off.

“Fuck.” She whispered when he quickly pushed a second digit inside her.

“Tell me how you like it,” Soobin ordered. “how to make you cum.”

“Anything,” Y/N closed her eyes, wondering if it would be ultimate humiliation if she drooled any time soon. “anything you do, I’m sure I’ll like it.”

“You’ve got no idea of what I…” He stopped, deciding she wasn’t ready for those words yet.

She gulped as he picked his pace. “Fuck, this feels so good!”

“Look at me.” His dominating aura was new to her.

She stared at those chestnut pools, darkened with a pinch of wildness, curiosity and lust. She’d never seen him like that, demanding, serious but at ease with himself, full of confidence and… So fucking hot. There was also the situation they were in, the unexpectedness of enjoying his touch, the thrill of doing something they probably shouldn’t be doing, the happiness of finally having a man’s attention for her own – she couldn’t control herself, clenching around his fingers.

“Shit,” Y/N threw her head backwards, back arching. “I’m gonna cum?”

“Is this a question?” He chuckled, amused.

“I’m not sure?” Her brows furrowed. “I’m almost…” He inserted a third digit. “There.”

“Already?” His dimples accompanied his smirk, and her heart beat faster. “So desperate, Y/N. You look gorgeous like this.” He cooed. “Keep looking at me and cum, then.”

Obeying was easy. Y/N was so out of herself with wanton it didn’t take more than a minute for her to explode around his fingers, moaning quietly and leaving small scratches on his nape and shoulders. Soobin peppered her neck with love bites while she rode her high, relishing the way she shook on his arms and snugged him close.

She tugged at his hair after calming down, pushing his chin up and getting nose to nose. It could be the post-orgasm haze, but she had the urge to say some crazy and cheesy things. Instead, she bit her lips, wondering what she should do next.

“Do I… S-should… Can I… Can I suck you off?”

And because she sounded vulnerable, he pushed past his own needs and tried to make her feel safe again. “I don’t know. Can you?” His eyes shone with mirth, the joke outdated and a bit annoying.

Her mouth tugged in a small smile. “May I?”

He wanted nothing more, but it seemed too much for her in one day, so he shook his head. “No, love. I think it’s best we go slow.”

“W-wait, why?!” She looked disappointed. “Don’t you… Want me to?”

“I do, love, I really do. But this is not about me.” He sighed. “This is about showing you that you can seduce any guy you want, doesn’t matter if you think yourself unexperienced or not… And judging by my pants now, I’m sure we can say you passed the lesson.”

Mentioning his pants wasn’t his best idea, because her eyes fell to his sweatpants and lingered there, glossy, hungry. He felt something clench around him and realised his fingers were still inside her. Blushing a bit, Soobin took them off, musing if it would be too extreme to lick them. However, he was trying to avoid getting hornier, so maybe…

Before he could react, the oven beeped, warning them that the last tray of brownies was done.

If one year early someone told her she’d dream about her best friend’s dick, Y/N would die of laughter. Now, sweaty and frustrated, she woke up for the second time in two days ten minutes before her alarm set off… Thanks to a wet dream.

With Choi Soobin.

It was upsetting, really. She couldn’t stop thinking about it – couldn’t stop wishing he had let her help him too. Because his kisses and his fingers had made her feel so good, so it was only natural to want to return the kindness… Although, a tiny bit of her was thankful he set boundaries, for she wasn’t sure she could handle what would’ve happened. The way he said she left him with a hard on was enough to make her mouth dry, heart skipping a beat in some sort of… Elation. She felt proud, desired… Feminine. And it had been ages since she last felt such emotions.

It was dangerous.

Choi Soobin was dangerous, and she should thread him carefully.

She went to the gym, wasting her energy on the weights and cardio. Maybe if she got too tired, her body would finally let go of that ridiculous desperation towards her best friend. The mere thought of having his hands on her again, of having her hands on him too… She almost tripped on her feet while leaving the gym. Chuckling at her own embarrassment, she started walking back home.

Then, her phone chimed with a notification.

Breathing slowly, Y/N unblocked it.

[08:12] 🖤 💓 darling dearest 💓 🖤: good morning, darling

wanna grab breakfast?

im near ur house

[o8:12] y/n: good morning, my better half

i literally just left the gym dskflfksdkljsd

and im FAMISHED

as always, u read my mind

[08:12] 🖤 💓 darling dearest 💓 🖤: meet u at that bakery around the corner?

[o8:12] y/n: sureeee

With a satisfied smile, she was glad for finally spending quality time with Yeonjun. Since the whole ‘Trying to date Donghyuck’ thing, Y/N kind of prioritised Soobin’s company…

Now, she had a chance to be herself again.

The bakery they usually went when Yeonjun was with her was quite empty when she arrived. Getting a table near the big windows, she discarded her jacked and sat down, relaxing. Checking her e-mails, she quickly answered two urgent ones – which meant she could come to work a bit late, ‘cause her online meeting at 10am was cancelled.

Soon, arms circled her neck and she heard the smack on the top of her head.

“Hello, darling.”

“Hello, dearest.” Y/N grinned. “Don’t kiss me when I’m sweaty, it’s gross!”

“I don’t mind it.” He chuckled, sitting in front of her. “Did you order something already?”

“Nah, I was waiting for you. What do you want?”

“Hmm… Coffee and something sweet. You?”

“Tea and something sweet.” She winked. “I’ll need scrambled eggs, though.”

“Milk tea?”

“You know me too well.”

However, instead of smiling back at her, Yeonjun frowned. “What’s this?” He pointed to the side of her neck, then down her collarbones that showed up a bit on her gym clothes.

“What?” Y/N tried to see what grabbed his attention.

“Is… It’s a fucking hickey?!” His mouth opened in pure shock, then stretched in a wide smirk. “Well, darling, you’re keeping secrets now?”

“N-no! It’s not like that!” She shushed him, flushing. “This is nothing.”

“Oh, really? Because all these years we’ve known each other, it’s the first time I’ve seen you with a hickey, so pardon me for not eating up your bullshit.” He rolled his eyes. “Soobin told me already.”

“Of course he did.” Y/N gritted her teeth.

“I mean, everyone kinda know there’s something going on. You guys aren’t exactly subtle.” Yeonjun chuckled, moving over the table to pinch her cheek. “Cuties.”

“There’s nothing going on! He’s just helping me out with…” Under his soft gaze, she hesitated.

“Is it still that excuse?”

God, she loved Yeonjun with all her heart, but sometimes… Sometimes he just really pissed her off. It was a rare occurrence, but when it happened, Y/N wanted to punch him right in the face.

“What excuse? He’s really helping me with Donghyuck.”

“I see.”

“You don’t believe me.” She pouted.

“I literally said ‘I see’!”

“You used your condescending tone.”

“It’s just because I don’t understand how him giving you hickies is gonna help with Hyuck, but don’t mind me.” He raised his hands in surrender. “So, how’s the conquest going?”

“Uh… Good. I mean, kinda good. We’re gonna try a new approach in a different ambient.” She sighed, not sure if she could voice out what happened two nights ago. “In a party, to be precise.”

“Oh, and why’s that? No, wait, let me order our food and you tell me everything.”

She smiled tenderly at him, the annoyance vanishing quickly. “I love you, you know that, right?”

“I do.” He chuckled, standing up. “As you should.”

“Prick.”

“I love you too, my favourite drama queen.”

“Milk tea and the fudgiest chocolate muffin, please. Don’t forget the scrambled eggs!”

“Noted. I’ll be back in a second.”

Y/N stared at the street, trying not to let Yeonjun’s words worsen her confusion.

Working as a translator gave Y/N the advantage of flexible hours and working from home. What once felt like a benefit, now didn’t. She went about half a chapter before giving up. There was no use, her head just wouldn’t focus enough.

Opening the group chat with only her girl friends, she invited everyone for dinner. She needed some time away from Soobin, and needed some purely feminine company.

It was past eight when Felicia arrived. She was the last one, so they could finally declare that the night officially started – good wine, a huge charcuterie board, cheese and chocolate fondue… And…

Well, Soobin’s brownies.

Y/N made sure not to linger on that thought, not to let the memory of how she got them cloud her senses (again), because it went against the mood she had planned for the night.

And it would’ve worked if said boy could read her mind. Unfortunately, he couldn’t – for her phone vibrated and indicated a text message from him.

[21:12] binbin🐰: so u had breakfast with yeonjun…….

AND invited the girls over WITHOUT us

(gyu and i)

[21:12] y/n: yeah, i did. why?

[21:12] binbin🐰: why do u hate me? 🥺

(us*, gyu is also pouty)

[21:12] y/n: where does this come from????

r u unwell?????

[21:12] binbin🐰: u havent talked to me the whole day

cant i miss my best friend?

[21:12] y/n: ofc u can

but u r never clingy

so i got concerned

[21:12] binbin🐰: well, im clingy now

[21:13] y/n: oh

[21:13] binbin🐰: yeah

[21:13] y/n: id invite u but tonight’s strictly girls night

[21:13] binbin🐰: come over later

[21:13] y/n: cant

[21:13] binbin🐰: 😨

why??????

[21:13] y/n: idk when they’ll leave

[21:13] binbin🐰: idc

come anyway

She blocked her phone, feeling her stomach tightening.

“Well, that’s… Sweet, I guess?” Mimi murmured, staring at her.

“Were you reading everything?!”

“I couldn’t help but read.”

Y/N opened her mouth, torn between being offended or asking Mimi what ‘sweet’ actually meant. Obviously, seeing Soobin that night wasn’t a smart move.

“So, how’s the ‘Donghyuck’s Annihilation’ going?” Felicia questioned, bringing her back to reality.

“What kind of title is this?” She giggled.

“It’s more dramatic, which suits you.” Fel shrugged. “So…?”

“How’s ‘Soobin’s classes’ going, you mean.” Haena quipped.

“I’ll let you know Donghyuck and I sometimes talk to each other through DM’s, and I’ve been more comfortable around him, so it’s going pretty well.” Y/N cleared her throat, feigning indifference.

“Oh, that’s nice.” Felicia smiled. “Feeling comfortable around him is important.”

“Soobin thinks we should meet at a party, ‘cause the change of atmosphere might be good and might make Hyuck look at me differently.”

“Hmm… Makes sense.” Haena agreed. “But what about your shyness? Would you be ok with kissing him and even sleeping together?”

A quick flashback of what happened at Soobin’s kitchen made Y/N blush, but she played it cool. “Yeah, I think I’d be fine. Maybe I’d pass out from nervousness, but I wouldn’t hesitate.”

Haena stared at her for a second or two, sipping her wine. “Then I’m glad you decided not to listen to us and pursue your crazy plan with Soobin’s help.”

“Can we stop talking about this? Yeonjun also interrogated me today and I really wanted to have a night-off.” Y/N pouted. “Why don’t you girls talk about your love lives, for a change?”

“The biggest change here is you getting out of your shell, but ok.” Felicia pointed out, grinning.

“Ya’ll not ready for my girlfriend era.” She chuckled.

Matter of fact, Y/N wasn’t exactly ready for that herself.

Around midnight, she finally laid down, skincare routine done and warm bedsheets. Plugging her phone on the charger, she sighed and opened her chats. It was a new day, so she didn’t need to pretend not to think about Soobin and Donghyuck again.

[00:09] y/n: asleep?

It took her some minutes to get a reply.

[00:12] binbin🐰: im not talking to u

[00:12] y/n: why’s that?

[00:12] binbin🐰: u didnt come

[00:12] y/n: the girls left and i had to clean up the mess

[00:12] binbin🐰: u can come now then 😤

She pondered for a second, but the alcohol made her reckless – or she wanted to believe so.

[00:12] y/n: can i, sir?

how?

Soobin typed and erased a few times before replying.

[00:14] binbin🐰: ???

what the fuck do u mean

r we talking abt the same thing???

[00:14] y/n: probably not

[00:14] binbin🐰: im talking abt u coming downstairs

[00:14] y/n: im talking abt what happened the other night

Another pause.

[00:16] binbin🐰: y/n

[00:16] y/n: soobin

[00:16] binbin🐰: lets keep this convo PG

[00:16] y/n: i dont want to

[00:16] binbin🐰: why not?

[00:16] y/n: ‘cause im slightly tipsy and super frustrated and angry

u didnt let me suck u off and now im one step behind

what if hyuck wants me to suck him off?????

[00:16] binbin🐰: then u suck him off

[00:16] y/n: what if im not good at it?

[00:16] binbin🐰: bullshit

[00:16] y/n: how do u know

[00:17] binbin🐰: i just do

[00:17] y/n: how

[00:17] binbin🐰: u gonna have to trust me in this

[00:17] y/n: nope 😌

[00:17] binbin🐰: would i ever lie to u? no

so stop worrying and go to sleep

[00:17] y/n: im not worrying

im frustrated and angry

ill spend the whole night watching blowjob videos and taking tips

bc u didnt help me like u promised!!!!!

She was sure she crossed a line that wasn’t supposed to be crossed, but it was too late.

[00:18] binbin🐰: stop being a brat for once in ur life

i mean it

[00:18] y/n: 😌 nope 😌

The vibration caught her by surprise. ‘Binbin’ lighted up her screen like some kind of hypnosis.

“Don’t.” His voice cut the silence.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t watch porn, it’s not helpful at all.”

“It might be more helpful than you at the moment.”

He sucked in a breath the same way he did whenever Beomgyu got on his nerves. “How much did you drink? You’re not easily intoxicated, so stop with the attitude.”

“I drank enough to be bold and ask for it… Again.”

There was a tiny silence, then a sigh. “Tomorrow. When you’re fully sober.”

Tomorrow, it was.

When Y/N entered Soobin’s apartment the next night, she brought hot chocolate for them. An apology gift, if she was being honest, for bothering him with her needy rampage. Not that the ashamed feeling was enough to keep her dirty mind at bay.

Nonetheless, it was easier to pretend she was there to learn how to play Overwatch than to learn how to suck dick. Donghyuck wasn’t a League of Legends guy like Soobin, however, Y/N had no interest neither in one game nor the other – she only needed to know the basics so she could try to strike conversation and maybe actually join them in one of their gaming meetings.

Sitting at the chair beside his one, she listened to him explain about the history and purpose of the game. It was always endearing to witness how talkative he became whenever he talked about the things he liked, and so she couldn’t help but fondly let him go on with the monologue.

Some time later, they started playing, but Soobin was too close, his long fingers typing the controls with ease while his attention was glued to the screen. Y/N told herself she was only looking at his hand because it was necessary. She didn’t have any other thoughts on her mind but learning the commands. She didn’t care how good those slender fingers felt inside her.

She couldn’t possibly care less that they curled just right and reached her spot with as much ease as they typed the keyboard. She obviously didn’t mind the fact they weren’t inside her right now.

“Stop! You’re trying to distract me!” Y/N groaned.

“I’m literally playing for you.” He quipped. “How is this…”

“You keep moving in a quick pace, knowing I get distracted easily. I can’t focus!”

Soobin frowned, trying to understand her mood swing. “It’s not my fault we have to be fast!”

“Still.” She pouted, chin up.

In those days following their new agreement, Soobin learnt something about Y/n: she had quite a temper when horny – as if it offended her that she felt any type of emotion, something similar to the way she behaved whenever she was fighting back tears.

And her flushed cheeks could also mean anger, of course. It would make sense. However, her glossy eyes and dry mouth had nothing to do with anger.

How could he be so sure?

Because he felt as restless as her. The moment she showed up in a black satin pyjama set, he realised his mistake. Now he knew that she was pantie-less, and now he also knew what she looked like without any piece of clothing on.

And now he wanted to see her again.

“Why are you so antsy?”

“I’m not!” Her pout grew bigger and he couldn’t help but grin. “Why are you smiling?”

“You’re cute.” He chuckled. “Come, try it instead.” Putting his hands over hers, he guided the mouse through her. “Press this for shooting.” He indicated once again, moving his finger over hers. “Like this. Good.” His voice dropped an octave. “Focus, love.”

He felt the shivers on her skin, and desire shot through him too.

“H-How do I enter there?” Y/N gulped as he pushed some hair off her shoulder.

“Use the mouse.” But instead of moving with her, he let go, lightly tracing her arm from the wrist to her elbow. “Atta girl.”

Fuck.

Any resolve of focusing vanished after those two words. Y/N felt her stomach tightening, heart picking up a beat. “What now?”

The proximity was tempting, and Soobin found himself giving in.

“While gaming… Things can get freaky.” His voice was low and raspy, enticing. “And people can get creative, you know? Maybe cockwarming, just to spice things up. Or a blowjob…”

Was it supposed to make her mouth water like that?

“Would you ask me to?”

Soobin held the impulse of correcting her, of reminding her this wasn’t about him, but Donghyuck. However, since he was the teacher, he told himself it made sense. “Do you want me to?”

Her chest rose with a deep intake of breath, as she tried to find her own voice. “Yes.” His lips found the column of her neck, leaving love bites all over. Y/N moaned, tightening her hold on the mouse. “Bin, I can’t concentrate.”

“Shall we move it to the bed?”

She didn’t need to be told twice. Leaping from her chair, she found some comfort in the mattress. Soobin chuckled, closing the game and following her. Matching her eagerness, he kissed her in an urgent pace, trying to placate whatever hunger grew within him recently – whenever he had his hands on Y/N, to be more precise.

It didn’t take much for their bodies to intertwine. Hips against hips, they moved in synch, chasing some kind of relief. Touching her under the pyjama shirt, he scratched from her lower back to her waist, then rested on her boobs, cupping them.

His touches and the friction made her belly tug, her panting growing more erratic by each second. “Bin, Bin, wait. Wait.” She tried to stop, but her body had a life of its own. “I shouldn’t…”

“What?” Pinching a nipple, he relished on her breathy moan.

“Oh, please, don’t.” Her hands came to his shoulders, ready to push him off, but instead they just clawed against his t-shirt. “I’m supposed to be giving you a blowjob, not humping you like a needy teenage girl.” But it was so good. So, so good. “I can’t come now.”

“What if I want you to?”

Yes. “No, please.” Y/N groaned, the words escaping without control. “If I don’t have your dick in my mouth any time soon, I might honestly go berserk.”

“That bad?” He couldn’t help but chuckle, a small smirk gracing his face.

“That bad.” She agreed. “You don’t understand, I thought about it since…” Well, fuck, she was already in too deep, so she better make the best of it. “Ever since the kitchen episode.”

God, she made it hard for him to resist. “Really?”

“I even had wet dreams about it.” Y/N stole a peck. “Twice.” Another one. “So, you see, this is quite serious. I’ve been frustrated and horny… And now I’m so wet and bothered I might cry if I don’t get to suck you in less than two minutes!” She wasn’t lying, for her eyes turned glossy.

Donghyuck was going to be a fucking lucky bastard.

“Hey, no.” He held her cheek tenderly, pecking her lips too. “No need to cry, I’ll give it to you.”

“Now?”

“Now.” Soobin stole one last kiss. “On your knees for me, love.”

Y/N admitted she never loved such words as much as she did then.

Getting between his legs, she pushed his t-shirt up until his belly button. The outline of his underwear showed, and her mouth watered. Leaning down, she peppered feather kisses on the skin above it, feeling his abs hardening. It made a rush of power and satisfaction wash through her, elated for getting him that way. Tugging at the hem of his trousers, she pushed them down, bringing the underwear too – and she gulped at the sight.

Well…

Oh.

Well, God help her, for that man was handsome in every angle.

His dick sprung free, big, rosy, hard and veiny. And she didn’t waste any more time, welcoming him inside with a smooth, swift move.

Full on her mouth, heavy on her tongue, salty on her taste buds, Choi Soobin was perfect. Y/N wasn’t sure what made her wetter: finally sucking him off, or the way his head was bent backwards, throat exposed as his Adam’s apple bobbed with the moan he let out.

“Fuck, love, it’s so warm.” He rasped. “I’ll tug at your hair now, ok? So I can set a pace. Or do you want to do this alone?” He looked down and she shrugged, quite unsure of what to choose. “Let’s do it together, then. I want you to feel comfortable too.” Threading his fingers on her hair, Soobin pushed her head down a bit. “Open up a bit more, love, let me go deeper.” She obeyed. “Like that, yeah.” He closed his eyes for a second, relishing on the feeling. “Are you alright?” Y/N tried to answer, a muffled ‘mhm’ coming out instead of a ‘yes’. “Good. Do you think you can handle a bit of gagging? If I thrust and it hits your throat, will it be ok?”

He was so gentle with her, it was really sweet… But Y/N didn’t mind roughness. Replacing her lips with her hands, she swallowed a bit of drool. “We can try.”

“Tap my thighs if you feel any discomfort.”

“Don’t mind me, just let me make you cum.”

She lazily sucked his tip, jerking him off as she pondered the best way to take all of him. Relaxing her jaw, she let go with a ‘pop’ and took a deep breath before fully sucking him again. The grip on her hair tightened, forcing her head down with more strength than before. His dick slid easily, as if her mouth was made for him, welcoming his length.

“Fuck, love.” He groaned, borderline insane. “Fuck. Keep going.” Each time she bobbed up and down, she took a bit more of him until the gag came. Tears burned her orbs and her throat closed, making her cough loudly. “You good?”

“Good.” Y/N agreed. “Let me try again.”

“Are you sure?”

“Guide me.”

He moved forward, crowding over her and holding her jaw. “Breathe through your nose and hold it each time you sink. It helps.” He caressed her lower lip. “Here, try with my fingers.” She opened, feeling his thumb first, sucking on it slightly. Then, he took it off and gave her his index, so he could go further. His digit was slender, bony, but she felt the gag anyway. “Don’t breathe as you go down, love. Right, take it easy.” Y/N obeyed, holding her breath. “Like this, yes, perfect.” She reached for his dick again, mimicking what she was doing on his finger. “Fuck.” He let out an amused laugh, raspy and short. “Can I add one more?”

She shook her head, welcoming another one. It was honestly easier that way, but at each stroke of her wrist, she grew restless – she wanted to taste him again, wanted to hear his grunts, and see the way he looked like when he came. So, instead of waiting for him to tell her what to do next, Y/N pushed his hand away and focused on his cock. Soobin remained quiet, letting her do whatever she wanted. She gathered some saliva, spitting on his tip and smudging it with her thumb. He held back a groan, fluttering at the feeling of her caress.

“I wanna do it now.”

“Go on, then.” He barely finished speaking when she started sucking him again. Keeping in mind how and when to breathe, she was able to take him easier than before. Soobin’s eyes darkened, enamoured by the sight. “Like this, go slow. No need to rush.” She looked at him through her lashes, encouraged by his words. Drool pooled on her mouth, making her gag just a tiny bit when she got past half of his shaft. “You’re doing so good.” He praised. “So good for me, love.” It was enough to keep her going, a little more confident than before. He finally hit her throat and she gagged, but instead of stopping, Y/N bobbed her head up and down once again, trying the pace and the whole move. “Fuck, I might need you to suck me off every day now.” He chuckled, reaching for her hair again, not forcing her face, but keeping some kind of pressure there.

Y/N really did her best. Every time he hit her throat, she ignored the discomfort and the tears, because the pretty, quiet moans he let out were too divine for her to care about anything else. However, as his hips started moving on their own, the quicker they got, the harder it was to conceal her breathing… So, she had to stop. She decided to focus on the tip, sucking and licking at it, while her hand pumped his shaft up and down.

“Where?” His voice came out strained. “Where should I come, love?”

She frowned, pondering. Unbuttoning her shirt would take ages, so the most logical place was… her mouth. Well, she couldn’t deep throat yet, but she obviously could swallow. Besides, she knew boys liked stuff like that. Not bothering to answer, Y/N sucked him with renewed disposition.

It was the way she refused to step back, warm palm against his skin, delicious and wet lips on his tip… Soobin had been waiting for that since the kitchen episode. So, when his orgasm washed over him, he wasn’t sure what felt better: the sheer pleasure of finally cumming, or the whole experience. At the moment, it wasn’t his best friend between his legs ‘trying’ a blowjob so she could do it on her future boyfriend. Y/N was a pretty girl with a perfect mouth and an eagerness to please that would make any boy weak on the knees.

And when their eyes met, the lustful haze not as thick as before, Soobin couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so satisfied with just a blowjob.

“Sorry I couldn’t take it all.” She broke the silence, disappointed. “I wish I…”

“Don’t worry.” He cut her off, ready to say ‘We can try again next time’, but the words died before reaching his tongue. There wouldn’t be a next time. She was supposed to do it with Donghyuck, not him. However, it wouldn’t be the same. Donghyuck probably didn’t have a big dick like he did. It was such a petty thought, but it was better than acknowledging the pang of jealousy Soobin felt at the perspective of Y/N deep throating his friend. “You were perfect.”

The small smile that graced her lips made his heart clench. “Oh, you don’t have to…”

“Trust me. You never got a blowjob, so trust me.”

She chuckled. “Alright.”

And because he was still in a haze thanks to the pleasure, Soobin pulled her up by the hand. “C’mere, let me take care of you now.”

Y/N went to him like a moth to a flame, without resisting. Their mouths collided as she sat on his lap, melting on the kiss, burning with it. Before he could lay her down and finally get those pyjama’s pants off, someone knocked on the door.

“Yo, bro, what are you doing?” It was Beomgyu’s voice. “You’re marked as ‘away’ on the group chat, but… Oh. Ohhh.” He giggled. “Is Y/N in there?”

Y/N shook her head in fear, signalling a ‘No’. Beomgyu wouldn’t let her live if he knew he interrupted them… And she wasn’t in a good mental state to take the blow.

“No. I was just watching anime.” Soobin thanked God his voice sounded normal.

“Ah, alright. How about LoL?”

“Coming right in.”

“Ok!” They heard his steps vanishing towards his own room, and sighed.

“I better go, then.” Y/N tried to stand up.

“Wait, no. Why?”

“I don’t want to see Beomgyu now, and you gotta focus on your game.” She cleared her throat, forcing a smile. “C’mon, don’t be difficult.”

“Alright.” He sighed again. “Alright.”

Trying to avoid any embarrassment, she reached for the door, pondering what to say.

“Thank you, though. It was… Really nice.” Oh, how cringe!

“The pleasure was mine. Literally.” His eyes got smaller as he grinned.

“I’m glad.” She glanced at him one last time. “Night, Bin.”

“Night, love.”

Y/N’s breath caught, the nickname ringing in a different tune now. Almost bolting out of the room, she took the stairs instead of the lift, desperate to be alone.

She needed to get Soobin out of her system, and the slick mess on her pyjama’s pants had to be addressed by thoughts of tanned skin, adorable moles and a heart-shaped mouth… Although her mind kept recalling a roguish smile and dimples – which was annoying, since they belonged to…

Felicia and Y/N had left the Pilates’ class ready for their Friday brunch. She liked spending time with her friends, she recharged in their presence; however, this time she just wanted to be quiet. She had no idea of what to do with her thoughts, the flashes of last night occupying much of her head and making it so hard to focus on anything else.

“You’re not even listening.” Fel sighed.

“Of course I am!” Y/N retorted.

“So what was I saying?”

She gulped. “You were…” Luckily, her phone vibrated with a new message. Shaky hands, she ignored the tighten on her heart at the name on the screen.

[11:28] binbin🐰: party tomorrow

time to try our new strategy

Tomorrow.

Oh.

“What is it? You look… I don’t know, stunned?!” Felicia frowned.

“Soobin texted. A-apparently I’ll try to seduce Hyuck tomorrow.” She looked at her friend. “I might… I might kiss Donghyuck tomorrow, Fel.”

“And this is good, right?”

“Of course!” She smiled.

It was. Despite de unsettling feeling on her stomach.

Working went as smoothly as she could make it, now with two growing worries haunting her. Mimi noticed she was acting weird and called for help, which came by the form of take-out and Choi Yeonjun. There was nothing her darling dearest couldn’t mend, heal or sort out.

They were in the middle of an ‘Attack on Titans’ episode when she broke the news.

“I’ll try my next step with Hyuck tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Yeonjun turned to her, interested.

“Yeah.”

Something in her expression made his heart clench. “You nervous, darling?” He asked softly.

Eren’s screams while fighting against titans were a great demonstration of how Y/N felt the whole day. She was confused, frustrated and anxious.

“Nervous, yeah.”

“Why?”

“Got a lot on my mind.” Y/N took a deep sigh, cheeks flushing. “With Soobin things are easy. I don’t feel anxious, nor insecure. On the contrary! I feel… Seen. Cared for. Special. It makes sense, right? He’s my best friend.” She shook her head, as if trying to sort her thoughts. “I-I know what you’re thinking: friends don’t… Friends don’t do what we do. But he is just helping me, because I am desperate. I still like Donghyuck. I really do.”

“I know, darling, you don’t have to explain anything.” Yeonjun took her hand, giving it a tender squeeze. “I believe you, and I’m always on your side.”

The thing was… She was starting to doubt herself.

part two out now!

#txt scenarios #txt smut #soobin scenarios #soobin smut #txt #i still wanna kms

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thecuriousbeauty · 5 months ago

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One-Love! (Harry Styles Oneshot- Tennis player! Harry x Tennis Player y/n)

Synopsis:- This is a one shot inspired by Paris Olympics Gold medalists Katerina Siniakova and Tomas Machac, a beautiful couple who broke up before the olympics to focus on their game, and teamed up in the mixed doubles event to win the gold for their country. They shared a sweet kiss after their victory.

Word Count: 4,219

Warnings: Smut. Some sweet sex, a little bit of angst, and lots of fluff.

_______________________________________________

The sun was bright, warm, and not harsh, falling over y/n’s face through the small gaps of her window blinds. The alarm goes off and she wakes up with a soft groan, expertly reaching out a hand to silence it, without having to look.

“Wakey wakey, it’s a beautiful morning!”She hears her boyfriend, Harry, and curls up on her side, hiding further under her blankets and acting like she’s still sleeping as she hears his footsteps coming towards her.

She feels the bed dip down with Harry’s weight as he climbs on, and leans over her, his breath fanning her face. “Aw, look at you, my sleepy head.”

y/n has to trap in her smile as she feels his gentle fingers stroke over her hair, moving the strands away from her face. “What am I gonna do to wake her up?”Harry wonders, smiling as he knows she’s playing with him. “Maybe I should go with a tickle attack.”

y/n gasps as his arms wrap around her waist, and hands sneak up to his oversized shirt she was wearing. “You can’t wake people up with tickle attacks!”, she says.

He laughs, pulling her so her back is to his chest. “You’re awake then?”

“No.”, she grumbles, turning around in his arms, and resting her forehead on his shoulder blade.”Why is it morning so fast?”

“Well, we did stay up till late. You wanted to go another round and then-”

“-Oh shut up.”, she cuts him off, and opens her eyes, meeting the forest green ones staring back at her. Harry’s face splits into a big smile as he rubs his nose with hers, something they always do. “There’s my girl.”

y/n has known Harry since years. They grew up in the same neighborhood, and their parents are friends. y/n and Harry didn’t get off to a great start though. Harry and his friends were playing football when y/n and her friend were walking by, and one of them kicked the ball towards them, making it splash onto a puddle right in front of them. The murky brown water fell on y/n’s friend’s new white top. Of course the boys didn’t mean to and they apologized, but since then, her friends wouldn’t look eye to eye with those boys. It seemed like a good grudge to keep at their young age.

y/n had a love for tennis. She loved watching the matches with her dad, and her dad even set up a net for her in the backyard so they could play. He enrolled her in the nearest coaching academy, where she didn’t know that Harry was training as well.

“Oh Harry! It’s her first day today. Good that you have a friend already, eh?”Her dad smiles as he pats little Harry’s shoulder. The older curly haired boy smiled at y/n, a little smile playing on his lips. y/n tells her dad that she would be okay, and he leaves, promising to come pick her up after two hours.

“So, you like tennis?”Harry asks, looking sideways at her as they walk inside.

“Yes. You too?”, she asks, and he nods, putting out a hand. “Friends then?”

y/n smiles, shaking his hand. “Friends.”

“Someone once told me that mornings are the best time to train.”, Harry tells her as he brings his hands up to cup her face.

“Must be a crazy person.”, she smiles, admiring how some of his brown curls fell over his face. “Yes, she is quite crazy. But I love her.”, he smiles back, dimples popping as his thumb stroked over her bottom lip. “Let’s go, sunshine. Made our smoothies ready.”

“Kiss?”, y/n puckers her lips. Harry looks at her fondly, before pressing his lips to hers in a soft kiss. “I love you too.”, she says, ruffling his hair when they pull away and sits up, stretching her arms above her head.

Harry and y/n get into their training clothes, after y/n freshens up and they get going to the court where they practice. They did their warm ups, and ran some rounds around the court first. Harry and y/n had different coaches, but they train together a lot of times.

“You’re going down, Styles.”, y/n says, pushing her hair back with her head band before picking up her racket.

“You can try, y/n.”, Harry grins, who was jumping on his toes on the opposite side.

Harry was easily the best player she had played with, and played against. He was quick on his toes, his eyes were as sharp as a hawk’s, and he moved on the court like a panther. He was something you would call a mastermind, he had moves saved until the last moment and surprised his opponent when they least expected it. Harry had the saddest time of his life when he failed to qualify for the Tokyo Olympics. He got injured during the qualifying match, and he couldn’t be at his best.

“One- Love!", Harry smirks, as he gets a point.

y/n’s coach thought she wasn’t ready yet during Tokyo, so she was now looking at the Paris Olympics. Winning a medal for her country was her dream and she would do anything to get that.

“Yess!”, y/n cheers as she gets the match winning point to beat Harry. They always get so close, and playing against y/n sends the gears in Harry’s head turning, and he has to be at the top of his game. y/n walks to the bench, sitting down tiredly and Harry walks to her, giving her a fist bump. “Nice one, babe.”

“Thanks.”, she smiles, taking her water bottle out of her bag and pouring some over her face before chugging it down. “Wanna go again?”

“I’d like to, but I’ve got a session with the coach in the evening, don’t wanna over work myself.”, Harry tells her and she nods. “Shall we go grab breakfast?”, he asks her.

“Sure.”

Harry and y/n get some breakfast, then spend the day with each other before they part for training with their coaches in the evening.

“y/n, you have six months from now for the qualification rounds.”, her coach tells her. “We have to make a game plan for that soon.”

“I’m at the top of my game right now coach, I just have to keep doing what I’m doing, right?”, she asks. She had won silvers, and golds in the previous tournaments. She was one of the country’s best at the moment.

“This is the Olympics, y/n, it’s not going to be easy.”, he tells her. “You have to work double as hard.”

“I will. I’m gonna go to Paris this time.”

He smiles at her, keeping his hands together over his knees as he leans to talk to her. She was sitting on the court, arms around her knees. “You know you have to let go of all distractions, right?”

“My social media and stuff? Yeah, I can do that.”

“I’m talking about Styles.”

She raises her eyebrows. “What about him? He isn’t a distraction coach, we make each other better. Besides, we’re competing in different categories, so it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“I want your focus to be on Tennis completely, y/n.”, he stresses. “You can’t do that if you’ve got a love life. And you know as well I do, that Harry will do anything to get this win. He needs it. He’s getting older, and he’s under a lot of pressure. It’s good for both of you to stop dating for a while, at least until this gets over.”

y/n opens her mouth and closes it. “You’ve got what it takes y/n, you are so talented. Isn’t this your dream?”

“Yes..”, she whispers.

“Then you have to let go of everything and give me your best in these next few months.”

Harry was fed the same things from his coach, and they both stopped seeing each other so frequently. They stayed over less, and there was this air of tension around them as the days grew closer.

“Babe..”, Harry says. He pauses the show they were watching, making y/n turn to look at him. “Hm?”

“W-We, um, we need to talk.”

y/n nods, sitting up, and Harry takes her hand. He didn’t want to tell her this, but he had to. Tennis was important to him. This could be his last chance to finally make it. He had to make sacrifices.

“I think we should stop seeing each other.”, he murmurs. “They’re right, we have to focus on the sport. It’s our dream.”

y/n’s heart squeezes in her chest. “Y-You’re just as important to me, Harry.”

Harry quickly looks up to her eyes, squeezing her hand. “y/n, you mean the world to me. You’re my person, and my everything. Trust me, I thought about this a lot.”

“Me too.”, she agrees quietly. “This is it, then?”

“No. No, please, don’t say that.”, he shakes his head, leaving her hand to scoop her into his lap. One of his hands cups her cheek, while the other lays at her hip. “We can get back together..when things are not so hectic.”

“So..we break up for a few months to focus on Tennis?”, she asks, tears springing in her eyes, and Harry’s heart breaks as he sees that. He nodded. “M-My dad..he wanted me to win in the Olympics, it was his dream. He even told me about it before he d-died. I-I have to do this, y/n.”

She nods, understanding. She had the same love for the sport. An Olympic medal is the best achievement for any sports person.

“I love you.”, she whispers, her forehead touching his.

“I love you too.”, he whispers back, kissing her. His tongue strokes over her bottom lip and she opens up, to let his tongue explore her mouth. Her fingers play with the curls at the back of his head, as his hands run up and down her sides. “One last time?”, he whispers against her lips, eyes looking at hers.

“One last time.”, she agrees, joining their lips again. Harry’s lips trail down her neck, and her jawline, leaving his marks. “N-No seeing anyone else, right?”, she asks.

“Do you want to?”, he asks, slipping his hand under her shirt to grope at her breast. She moans, pressing closer to him as she feels his boner through her shorts. “No..n-no one’s as good as you, Harry.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”, he smirks, rubbing her nipple between his fingers. “Let me see you, baby.”, he whispers, tugging her shirt off her body. y/n does the same to him, and continues to straddle his lap as he marks her up.

She runs her hands over his muscular arms, his broad shoulders and over his inked chest. “Just like that baby, go down on me, just like that.”, he murmurs, hands moving to her hip to get her into a rhythm. He plays with her breasts and showers her in kisses, groaning against her skin.

“H-Harry I need you.”, she moans softly. “Please.”

“Anything for you, baby.” Harry picks her up, hands under her ass as he takes them to the bedroom, their lips connecting again. He lets her back hit the bed softly, before hovering over her. “You are so beautiful.”, he punctuates each word with a kiss down to her stomach, while his hand moves to her core, feeling the sleekness of her wet folds.

“Right back at ya, Styles.”, she says, pulling him closer as she runs her hands down his back. Harry groans, not able to hold on any longer. “Let me get inside you, darling.”

She spreads her legs, and he pushes his dick inside her. She moans at the feeling of being full. Harry fills her up so well. He starts moving in and out of her, his eyes looking at hers. “You feel so g-good, y/n.”, he moans. “So perfect for me.”

y/n looks at the love of her life, her chest bursting with emotions. She wished they could be here like this, with only the two of them in their own world forever.

“H-Harry?”, she asks, opening her palm, wanting him to hold her hand while he fucked her. Harry looks at her, also brimming with emotions. He tangles his hand with hers immediately, squeezing it tight. “I-I love you y/n. I love you so much.”

“I-I love you too.”, she smiles, her body starting to shake as she feels her orgasm coming. She clenched around his dick, and he brought his other hand to rub her clit. Her eyes roll back in her head as she whispers his name, again and again, as she reaches her high. Harry cums after she does, and he lays on top of her, exhausted.

“We’ll be fine, love.”, y/n whispers, running her hand through her favorite head of curls.

Harry smiled at her, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “We will.”

_____________________________________________

y/n and Harry hadn’t seen each other, or talked to each other for months. Harry missed y/n so much that he felt a constant tugging in his heart. He trained alone with his coach, and he missed the times when they would mess around with each other. He missed her laugh, the way her eyes crinkle when she smiles, he missed her scent in his room, on his clothes, he missed everything about her. The only thing that kept him going was his game.

y/n wasn’t any better. She was alright for the first few weeks, but then the empty space next to her on the bed, the lack of warmth when she woke up in the mornings, and the lack of cheesy jokes made her think about Harry. She was on a strict diet, and her coach put her on a different workout regime. It was so extreme that after a while, the only thing on her mind was Tennis. Her mind was trained.

Over the months, y/n’s agility improved along with other aspects, and she became great at reading the game. She was beating everyone she played against. Finally, it was time for the qualification rounds.

Harry had finished his match, and he had won, so he had booked his spot in Paris, representing Britain.

“Back to the hotel now?”, his friend, who’s also under the training of his coach asks him.

“Next match in court number five! y/n y/l/n versus Yasmin Reinardo!”, Harry hears the announcement and his eyes widen. He wanted to go see her.

“Um, you go ahead.”, he told his friend, before rushing off to court five. He joined the audience, making it just in time.

He felt so many emotions when he saw her. It had been six months. His sunshine, his baby, his love. She looked incredible. Gorgeous as always, and she had gained some muscle around her arms. Her hair was tied into a high pony, and she wore her favorite white head band which she thinks is her lucky charm.

Harry was so proud as he watched his girl on the court, she was on fire. Her opponent was good, but not good enough.

y/n won the game, and the other girl broke into tears. After all, she also had the dream for representing her country at the Olympics. y/n pulls her into a hug, rubbing her back as she mumbled something Harry couldn’t hear, but he smiled. He quickly went down to meet her, as she wiped the sweat off her body with a towel.

“Congratulations, love.”

She spins around so quickly when she hears his voice, and her eyes melt. She was overjoyed with emotion because of the win. She was going to compete in the Olympics for the first time! And the first person that she wanted to see was Harry, who was right in front of her.

“Harry.”, she gushes, before throwing her arms around him. Harry didn’t mind the sweat, he needed the hug just as much as she did. He squeezed her to her chest, holding her close. “O-Oh my god, I can’t believe it.”, she shakes in his arms.

“You made it love, you’re going to Paris!”, he rubs her back, pressing his lips to the top of her head. He heard the camera click, and knew their photos were being taken. Oh well. He couldn’t worry about that now.

“Y-You?”, y/n pulls back to look at him. Harry grinned at her, dipping his head down to rub his nose with hers. “I’m coming along too.”

She grins back and squeezes him. “I would have been so mad if we broke up for no reason. We get a free ticket to Paris!”

________________________________________

The Olympics will be held in another four months.. They caught up that day during the qualifications, grabbed a dinner together to celebrate, and then they were back to training.

They would see each other more often now, because all the British representatives trained together. Harry and y/n were both in better spirits now that they could see each other frequently, even if it was strictly during practice.

They would exchange subtle glances, touch hands when they exchanged things, and talk when they got time, but it was mostly about the game. One month before the Olympics, their team was yet to decide who would play for the mixed doubles.

“You both have played together before, right?”, one of the coaches asked Harry. “y/n and I? Yeah, in the commonwealth, we won bronze.”

“I think they’re our best shot.”, the guy says, looking at the other coaches and the players.

“What do you guys think?”

Harry looks at y/n, from across the room, like I’m okay if you’re okay.

Yes, there was their break up thing, they hadn’t kissed in months, there would be sexual tension having to play right next to him as his team member, and she couldn’t let that affect the event she was competing for. But it was an amazing opportunity, she had two chances to get a medal.

“Yes, that’s a good idea. We’ve played together the most, and we make a good team.”, y/n said, and Harry smiled.

So that’s how they started preparing together, for the mixed doubles along with their own events.

“Are you nervous?”, y/n asks one night, as she sits on the floor stretching. “We’re flying to Paris tomorrow, Harry.”

“I’m excited about going to Paris, but am I nervous about the actual reason we’re going? Yes.”, he says, making her chuckle. They were the only ones there, and Harry was putting his racket into its case. “It’s gonna be unreal. I mean, we’re getting a step closer to our dreams.”

y/n nods, stretching her legs out. “Any tips from your experience? About the whole adjusting to playing in the world’s biggest tournament thing.”

Harry laughs lightly, turning to her. “Babe, this is my first time too.” He crouches down so he’s looking at her. “But I’d say just focus on your game. You are the best, believe only that. Tune out everything else. You might feel like listening to the crowd who’s cheering for you, but tune that out too. You focus on doing what you’re good at. You’ve sacrificed so much for this, and you deserve to win. Play with that feeling.”

y/n looks into his eyes, and nods as his words seep into her brain. Her eyes moved to his lips, he was so close. Just one kiss.

Harry leaned closer, but it was to grab her leg. “Let me stretch you out.”

“Y-Yeah..”, she looks away from him. Harry had only gotten more attractive, and she loved seeing him in his short tennis shorts and a loose shirt. His tattoo covered muscular arms made her go weak in the knees.

“Lay back.”, Harry says and she does. Harry’s hands slowly lift up her leg, one of his hands on the back of her thigh and the other on her foot as he applies some pressure to it. She can’t stretch herself out so well.

“Other leg.”, Harry smiles, keeping that leg down and his hands reaching for her other leg. She lifts it up, and he stretches it out like he did with the other. He was on his knees in front of her. Then he folds her leg, making her knee touch her chin.

“Hold it for another second..”, he hums, counting down. He did the same for the other leg, and she feels like her muscles are dissolving under her touch.

“Pancake time.”, Harry pats her thigh, and she sits up, leaning over with her hands on the floor, going into something called the pancake stretch. Harry goes behind her, and applies pressure to her back. “Head down..that’s it, hold it there.”

She groans, feeling the stretch. Harry can’t help but smile, she can’t see his face anyway. “Alright, arms up.”

He stretches her arms, holding them above her head, and when he’s done, he kisses the top of her head. “All done.”

“Thanks, H.”, she smiles. “I’m gonna get going, make sure I’ve packed everything.”

“Mhm.” He wishes he could go with her.

“Soon.”, she promises, like she read his mind, and he smiles as she kisses his cheek before walking away with her bag.

_____________________________________________________

It was crazy. Harry and y/n were in the Olympic Village, competing in the Paris Olympics. It was unbelievable. y/n had to pinch herself when she got there. It was every sports lover’s dream. They got a little tour when they arrived, and she was awed by all the different areas for the numerous sports competitions.

She stood beside Harry for the opening ceremony, along with their other team members as they were welcomed. She was overwhelmed, thinking about how hard she had worked to get there.

Her own event was going to be after a few days, the first event was her mixed doubles with Harry. They knew very well each other’s strengths and weaknesses, who should cover what, and everything else. They were well prepared and planned.

They won every game they played, and made it to the finals.

y/n wanted to win this for Harry. She was going to give it her best.

“We got this.”, Harry squeezes her hand as she jumps around, minutes before the match. “y/n, we got this.”

She nods, taking a deep breath and looking at him. A medal was sure. If not gold, silver. But their eyes were on the gold. Everyone wants to win.

She walks to Harry, and hugs him. “We’ve gotten this far love, this is the final stretch.”, Harry whispers against her hair. “I am so fucking proud of you.”

“I-I’m proud of you too.”, she pulls back to hold his face. “A-And I can’t do it anymore. I-I can’t live without you, Harry.”

“Neither can I, baby. I need you in my life, I can’t fucking breathe if I think about losing you, ever.”, Harry squeezes her tight. “Now, it’s time to win a medal. What do you say?”

“I say yes.”, she grins.

Everyone cheers as Harry and y/n enter the court, shaking hands with their opponents. The fans loved to cook up theories about Harry and y/n, being seen out a lot of times with each other and their chemistry on the court is just magical to watch. Harry and y/n give cheeky responses when they're asked about it during interviews. They never confirmed their relationship, but their fans think it's obvious.

“One- Love!”

They score a point, and grin at each other before their hands meet for a fist bump. It was a tight game, keeping the people watching at the edge of her seats. They won the first set.

y/n and Harry are seen whispering to each other and their coaches as they drink their water and electrolytes during the break. They knew where their opponents were weak and just how to win the second set just like they had won the first.

And they do.

y/n screams in joy and astonishment. The fact that she just won an Olympic Gold Medal for her country felt so unreal! Harry was going through the same emotions. He made his father proud, he achieved what he had been working towards for years.

The whole world was looking at them, but Harry could only see one person. His partner and the love of his life.

“We won Harry! We won!”, she jumps high into the air, before wrapping her arms around his neck and clinging to him. Harry laughs as he lifts his girl up, spinning her around. They were laughing and crying at the same time. When Harry lets her feet touch the ground, she grins at him through her tears, and he cups her face. “I love you, y/n.”

“I love you too, Harry.”, she chokes back, and Harry couldn’t wait any longer. He kissed her. He kissed her like he didn’t for 10 months, he kissed her like he couldn’t breathe, and he kissed her like they just became World Champions.

Kateřina Siniaková and Tomáš Macháč- Gold medlists, Mixed Doubles. Paris Olympics, 2024.

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loveindefinitely · 9 months ago

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༊*·˚ FOREVER WINTER (IF YOU GO) — task force 141 x reader

13 — THERE'S NO SUCH THING AS BAD THOUGHTS, ONLY YOUR ACTIONS TALK

featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish + kyle 'gaz' garrick + john 'bravo six' price + (non-endgame phillip graves)

warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, fmmmm, enemies to lovers, slow burn, polyamory, ghostsoap, pricegaz, alerudy, heavy angst, requited unrequited love, graphic violence

series masterlist. read on ao3. read on wattpad.

<- previous part | next part ->

You’d, somehow, forgotten just how… vibrant two of your oldest friends were.

With the blades of the helicopter still spinning, the deafening sound of aircrafts around you, and a steady mist of rain, your body collides with another.

“Oi, watch it!” You exclaim, a beaming smile stretched over your features as the bulky, oblivious man squeezes his arms around your torso and buries his head into your neck. “You smell like gunpowder. And your fiancée.”

His voice comes out muffled against your skin. “And you smell like cheap body wash.”

He squeezes you once more before finally letting you go, his dimples deep and hair soggy with rain. You study his features, the sharpness of his jaw and the dusting of brunette against it. Him. One of your oldest friends in the military.

He looses a breath, eyes meeting yours and his hands falling to your shoulders, a comforting weight. You don’t have any words, can’t find them, so all that leaves your lips is a single name.

“Alex,” you whisper, voice breaking in the middle, heart a sore throb in your chest.

The storm clouds above paint the world around you in harsh greys and physical manifestations of sadness – but in it all, your light has arrived.

And how powerful it is.

“Moonflower!” A deeply familiar, feminine voice shouts, and you spread your arms wide and accept the body that crashes against your own. Your laugh is startled and pure, but relief and serotonin floods your system as warm as the embrace you’re surrounded in.

You’d found solace and even a home in your solitude, your loneliness, but now?

Now, with the only two people in your life that have remained by your side, no matter the distance, holding you in their embrace?

It feels like family, even if you know there isn’t a space between the two of them for you to fit in – no crevice large enough for you to ever comfortably merge.

A foster family, maybe. Or a found one, however tenuous and distant.

“I missed you both so much,” you murmur, voice cracking slightly. You clear your throat, inhaling a trembling breath as you squeeze your eyes shut and rest your face in the crook of her neck. She smells of an odd mixture of her usual perfume, and Alex’s cologne.

You wonder if you’ll still have enough limbs attached to get to their wedding, by the time everything has been dealt with.

If you’ll even have a head attached.

It’s a small eternity (or maybe a few seconds, or maybe a few years) until she pulls away, a glint in her eyes that seems a concoction of pity and strength.

“You look stunning, Farah,” you grin, and your cheeks burn with the odd sensation of joy.

She crinkles her nose, dark stray hairs flying across her face from the continuing wind of both winter and the helicopter. Her skin glows with health – and you realise, then, how even with the stress of reconstructing a nation, she’s happy. Honest and unrepentant and golden. A survivor of war, but a survivor nonetheless.

Raising a brow, she returns, “You look like shit.”

A chuckle leaves your throat, the familiarity that is Farah’s honesty akin to a hot chocolate and a blanket wrapped around a freezing frame.

“You look like you’ve been injured,” Alex adds, a small wince gracing his features. He’s miraculously found himself once more at Farah’s side, not unlike a loyal guard dog.

A guard dog guarding a lion, maybe, but a guard dog nonetheless.

“Unlike you two,” you chastise, folding your arms and burying your cold hands in the space between your bicep and breasts, “I’m at war.”

“With the guy we warned you about,” Farah raises her brow, voice acidic and biting. “The guy we told you was going to ruin your life?”

“There’s a difference between ruining my life, and quite literally ruining my life,” you counter, watching a cloud of breath hang in the air, chilled by the evening cold, before dissipating into the breeze.

“He can continue ruining your life inside,” Alex cuts in, a hand falling against the dip of Farah’s spine, and the other moving to rest between your shoulder blades. He applies just enough pressure to be convincing, but not demanding.

It may as well be a demand, however, with how weak your mindscape seems to be in the face of comfort and familiarity.

The base seems small, even with the short distance, a reminder of how self-contained and cataclysmic your life has become (has always been). It’s well past eight, now, and with the winter hours it’s almost pitch black already. A few stars decorate the black landscape, this far out from most light pollution. Your eyes stray to the glistening balls of flame, and you wonder if someday soon you’ll find yourself amongst them.

Two duffel bags hang off of Alex’s shoulder, and it sparks your interest.

“How long are you two planning to stay?” You ask, as if they’re merely old friends staying for a weekend, catching up over bottles of wine and damaged decks of cards.

They both shrug, almost in sync. Your heart thunders in your chest at the small display of how attuned they are with each other – how in love. It’s Farah who answers, simply, “However long it will take.”

When you look down to your boots, ripples of water against sleek concrete cascading beneath each footfall, it’s merely to hide the stretch of a smile that braces your chapped lips. Your voice is small, uncharacteristically vulnerable, when you mutter to the ground, “Thank you.”

“We owe you, hell, we owe you more than a dozen lifetimes for what you’ve done for us,” Alex scoffs, the gratitude rolling off of him unlike the rain soaking his long-sleeved v-neck.

“Let’s just call this even, then,” you retort, lifting your head once more, allowing them both to see the softened curve of your mouth, the gentle slope of your brows.

The rain has paused its pouring, but a whole other kind of thunderstorm awaits the three of you in the entry of the base.

When you’d called Farah and Alex – just two nights ago, mere minutes after finishing your meal with Ghost and Soap – you hadn’t spared many details about Graves. You’d told them of your betrayal, of your thoughts, of the adrenaline rush that was that last fight with him.

What you hadn’t disclosed was your increasingly peculiar arrangement with the 141. Or your tryst with Gaz. Or your mess of feelings, as a whole.

So, really, you hadn’t told them much in the realm of everything.

Now, seeing the outline of four starkly familiar profiles, waiting underneath the small awning above the entrance to the base, you regret leaving such vital pieces of information out of your hours-long call.

“This is the one first impression you don’t want to fuck up,” is all you manage to grate out to the two beside you, before you fall into hearing distance of the very imposing image the 141 has managed to portray. Sometimes, you forget how genuinely daunting the four men are, with the different lights you’ve seen them in.

This is not one of those times.

As soon as the light sitting at the door shines against the three of you, Soap startles forward, clad in only a tight-fitting grey shirt, with a hefty leather jacket in his grip. When he reaches you, not even glancing at the newcomers, he pulls the jacket over your shoulders, warm and gun-rough hands brushing the soft skin of your neck as he does so.

“Impatient, lass, runnin’ off into the rain without any feckin’ layers,” he reprimands, without any bite at all.

You’re stumped, for a moment, before shaking your head lightly and stepping away from the utterly confusing man. With a dramatic flourish of a hand gesture, you motion towards your left.

Thankfully, Soap hadn’t met you too far out, so it only takes a few steps before you’re standing before the other three. A healthy dose of scepticism and tension fills the air between you all, and while you could certainly do without it, it still stings.

Just as you’re about to introduce everyone, despite Soap’s oddly rude behaviour, Price interrupts.

“Bloody hell, small world, ain’t it?” He chuckles, throaty and pleased, muscle-corded arms folded over his chest. His smile is like a beam in the dark of night.

“Thought it’d be a nice surprise, old man,” Farah returns, bringing out her hand for him to shake with a firm grip, both comfortable and at ease in each other’s presence. When Farah goes to pull away, however, Price stops her from doing so with wide eyes, laser-focused on her ring-adorned finger.

“Well I’ll be damned, Alex, how’d you convince her to deal with your arse for eternity?” Price teases, and while you expect the younger man to hit back, he simply beams.

The three seem to be in their own little world, with you, Soap, Gaz and Ghost being left with raised brows.

“Oh, sorry, guys,” Alex raises a hand, having the decency to look sheepish. His eyes trail along the 141 warily, before meeting your own eyes, relaxing slightly under your gaze. He seems reluctant to break the contact, but does so nonetheless, words directed at the 141 as he says, “Price is an old friend.”

Farah and Price break their quiet conversation, directing their attention back to the group at large. It’s quiet, for a moment, which is a blessing considering the large personalities at hand.

You’re the one to break it.

“Well,” you start, a sudden burst of anxiety sparking in your stomach – you hadn’t considered the merging of your two lives, of past and present, the clashing of…

Oh. God.

Oh God. Oh God, you had almost forgotten that, but if you had, maybe they did, too? Yes. Definitely. It’ll be fine.

(It won’t be fine, you’re more certain, but a little lie to yourself can’t hurt. Much.)

You continue, not a breath out of place despite your internal thoughts, “Farah, Alex, meet the 141.”

Gesturing to the four men, meeting all of their eyes, you then gesture to the other two. “Guys, meet Farah and Alex.”

Silence fills the space between you all for a mere moment – just past a second, really – but it’s damning and heavy all the same. It has your chest tightening and your throat constricting, not unlike a thread of rope being pulled taut around the curve of your neck.

“Thank you for taking care of her,” Farah says, voice steady and calculated. Defensive, really.

Gaz’s eyes narrow, his voice perfectly even and sickly sweet as he responds, “I can promise you, the last thing Sweetheart needs is to be taken care of.”

It’s… tense.

You’d, of course, expected that it would take some time for Farah and Alex to become anything close to friendly with the 141, but this feels different. A kind of static alights the air, a live wire sensitive to any spark that will instantly set it aflame.

“It’s good to see you again too, mate,” Alex smiles, but a sharp edge lines the curve of his lips. His eyes meet Gaz’s, and they don’t stray.

With a tight smile, Gaz responds, “Likewise.”

Ghost stands farthest from the group, a haunting spectre, shrouded in shadows with his arms folded over his chest and his hip resting against the wall. It’s impossible to see where, exactly, his eyes are trained – but you know they rest on you nonetheless.

Soap’s jacket remains a comforting weight on your shoulders, and although you’re loath to admit it even to yourself, it is miles better than the thin top you’d braved. He’s standing closest to you, on your right, posture straightened and imposing. He exudes a kind of energy you haven’t felt from him before, the closest being when you’d been separated from him post-surgery, maybe.

“Let’s have some tea, maybe, in the common room?” You ask, but it’s not really a request. Your tone is thick with insistence and command, and no one is in a place to deny you.

By the time you all make it to the common room – Alex and Farah comfortably speaking with Price, and you walking silently with Gaz, Ghost and Soap. The latter, especially, remaining a close presence at your side.

A few candles are lit against the windowsill, and a singular lamp sat against the large couch has been lit. No need for the blinding white light of the ceiling – just comfort and familiarity.

It feels at odds with the terse energy at hand, but simultaneously, a blessing.

Alex immediately takes a seat on the far right of the couch, at ease with himself and his surroundings. Gaz sits on the far left, leaving two spots between them. Without a word, Soap’s hand finds your lower back, and he virtually pulls you with him to sit between the two men.

You find yourself stuck between Alex and Soap, with Ghost, Price and Farah more than happy to stand. Even if there was space, you doubt they’d choose to take a seat.

“We need to find out what Shepherd’s up to,” you speak, breaking the small talk between Price and Farah, as well as between Gaz and Soap. The room falls silent immediately. “And we need to find out what actually happened to my mother.”

The silence continues, and you find yourself pulling the leather jacket tighter around your frame – finding solace in the heat of the two men at either side of you. Your past and your present, both there, both helping.

It’s, surprisingly, Ghost who answers the sentiment first.

“We’re at your disposal,” he simply says, as if it’s ever that simple. Maybe it can be, maybe it will be, with the powerhouse of a group that’s surrounding you now, with all of your history and feelings and sentiments.

You can feel the seeds of hope in your chest begin to blossom, begin to shine underneath the rays of sunlight that are Ghost’s words.

“Are,” you roll your tongue in your mouth, feeling the words out before you speak them, “Are you all ready and willing to do this? Because if you’re not, I’m going to get the job done myself.”

It’s true, suicide mission or not.

“Yer outta yer feckin’ mind if ya think we’re leavin’ ya behind now,” Soap scoffs, relaxing further into the couch as he throws his arm up and around the back of the couch, hand skimming your left shoulder. His thigh presses against your right one.

“You’re stuck with us now, Sweetheart,” Price shrugs, hands in his pockets.

Murmurings of agreement and similar sentiments echo around the group, and you find yourself exhaling such a deep breath that you’re sure it expels some decade-old air that had been stuck in the crevices of your lungs.

“Hold on,” Farah raises her hand, brows furrowing as her other fist rests at her bucked hip. “What’s this whole Sweetheart thing about?”

Soap’s hand finds the nape of your neck, brushing away your hair to rest a firm grip around the warmed skin. Your heart skips a beat in your chest, and another when he responds, “Simple, aye? She’s a Sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes, but it’s impossible to quell the growing grin that’s creeping onto your face. “This idiot,” you nod towards the Scot at your side, “Was bleeding out. Gave him some sweetheart lollies to help with the blood loss, and, well, here we are.”

“Here we are,” he echoes, his eyes trained on your profile. When you meet his eyes, for a mere second, it feels like an electric shock.

Alex, on your other side, glances at you through the corner of his eyes with a hint of conspiracy. He leans in, mouth just a hair away from your ear, when he asks, “Which one of them are you fucking? Or have they all tumbled into your bed?”

Your elbow to his side is more a knee-jerk reaction to his words than anything, but you’re at least decent enough to wince at his groan of pain. He clutches his side like he’s been shot on the field, head falling to rest against your chest with dramatic flourish. Both Gaz and Soap start, as if about to physically restrain the man, and your unamused gaze immediately finds the Sergeants.

What the actual fuck is up with everyone?

“Not a jealous woman, are you, Farah?” Ghost chimes, voice guttural where he stands just to your left, by the arm of the couch. You can’t say you’d forgotten his presence – even with his silence, it’s a tangible, physical weight on your shoulders – but it still startles you when he speaks.

Farah’s easy smile turns into a cryptic smirk instantaneously, and, fuck.

Maybe, very possibly, most likely definitely: they remembered. Or, at least, Farah did.

Fuck.

You suppose it’s not really a thing you forget, unless your mind’s an overfilled storage room of memories and current events and problems. Which yours most definitely is, and of which theirs is likely not.

“Can’t say I am. Not the first time they’ve gotten handsy,” she shrugs, as if it’s an obvious statement.

As if the room hasn’t instantly dropped approximately ten degrees, and your heart stops where it should be thrumming in your chest.

It’s almost funny, how you instantly train your attention to Gaz. How your mind immediately fears his expression, his reaction to such a thinly veiled sentiment.

What you see is the instant rising of walls, the shuttering of his eyes, and the stiffening of his frame.

You wonder how many missed heartbeats it takes to constitute a heart attack.

“Old fling, were they?” Price asks, because, really, of course he does. When you look to him, he deliberately keeps his gaze on Farah, not giving you a single glance. It’s not jealousy, you know, because it’s Price, and he, in no capacity, holds any such feelings towards you. But it’s something damning nonetheless.

Alex, oblivious idiot that he is, finally pulls his head back up with a sharp laugh. If you didn’t know him, you’d think it was malicious. “Nah. Just thought some experimentation with an extra partner would be fun, and, hey, she is pretty damn hot.”

“You’re a dickhead,” you chastise, suddenly aware of all the points that you and Alex touch – all the points that you and Soap touch.

“Didn’t realise ye were into that,” Soap bites, abruptly, tone sharp and acrid. You barely suppress a shiver at the shift in the man’s attitude, in comparison to his usually jovial and good-natured attitude.

“Didn’t realise you were into kink-shaming, either,” you retort, almost startling at your own defensiveness.

Ghost’s hum feels like a reprimand, akin to an owner using a dog whistle on their trusted border collie, or a dominatrix snapping her whip.

“I don’t think threesomes are a kink?” Alex’s statement ends in a question, a confused look settling over his features. “Like, polyamory definitely isn’t, but what about one-offs? Babe, do you know?”

Farah doesn’t answer, not for a long while. Entirely too aware of the tension filling the room, of the dangerous game she’s about to partake in. The one Alex started, likely unknowingly, but started nonetheless.

“No. It’s not kink. But some of what we did was.”

For, well, not the first time in your life (or even the last week, really), but pretty darn close to it, you consider storming into the weapon supplies and shooting yourself.

“Well!” You exclaim, nervous laughter following the statement, palms clammy where you wipe them against your pants, “Farah, Alex, you probably need some rest, y’know, after your flight. I certainly need it.”

Standing before you even realise you are, you move to get the hell out of there, when Soap’s hand wraps around your wrist, and tugs you back down to sit even closer against him. When Alex’s hand finds your shoulder, you realise distantly that this must be a kind of tug of war. Or piggy in the middle.

Potato, patata. You’re the bait either way.

“The night’s still young,” Price cuts in, and everyone around you seems to nod. “Unless you’re uncomfortable, Sweetheart,” he adds, and the genuinity beneath his words turns into a threat of your pride in your head.

“I’m fine,” you straighten your shoulders, set your nerves. “Just looking out for my friends.”

It’s a lie. You know it, Ghost most likely does, too, and you can only hope that everyone else is ignorant to that small fact.

Subconsciously, you find your attention drifting to Gaz once more.

He hasn’t spoken, you realise, not since Alex had said that. When he catches you watching his profile, lit by the lamp, the candles – he meets your eyes. Not for longer than a second, or half of one, you’re sure, but it hits you like a bullet. When he instantly looks away, you can’t help the sudden anger that stokes the flames in your stomach.

It’s not as if you were openly flirting with either Alex or Farah, and even then, who was he to be mad? You’d been together once, for God’s sake – not for a single moment since. Long days of work and stress and training made the comfort of his bed simply that.

And even then, even then, you were in no way official. Not in any semblance of the word, not with the stakes of the mission at hand, the risk that came with such relationships.

His response gives you half a mind to play up your past on purpose. You won’t, but the urge is definitely there.

It’s not silent, thank god. Alex, Price and Farah have continued a previous conversation, Ghost is silent and brooding, and…

“Didnae pick ye as promiscuous,” Soap states, fiercely meeting your eyes with a swirling of emotions visible within his own. He says the words like they’re poison on his tongue, and, fuck, you’re close to breaking point.

Your responding smile is nothing short of mocking. “Calling me a slut is less wordy, don’t you think?”

“Dinnae put words into my bloody mouth,” Soap seethes, leaning in further to your space, the scent of his cologne invading your senses. You hate how confused it all makes you feel, how unsure of your emotions and goddamn attachments.

“Oh, sorry, does the big bad military man want to tell me what such a big word means? If I don’t have the mental capacity to choose how I have sex, I surely can’t understand your wide vocabulary, can I?” You hiss, bending your neck slightly and not backing away from his posturing for even a moment.

“Soap, stop threatening her,” Price barks, and you distantly remember the people around you, the setting, the image the two of you must make.

You remember, and you can’t seem to find a single fuck to give.

“I can fight my own damn battles!” You yell, not sending a single glance Price’s way – eyes completely remaining on darkened blue instead.

“And that’s why ye still got bloody feckin’ bandages, damn bruises –”

“Do not go there with me right now, Johnny, or I swear to fucking god.”

Both of your chests heave, and you’ve forgotten what even sparked this sudden argument, this spiteful back and forth. You haven’t a clue in this moment, and you relish in it.

“She’s a better damn fighter than the lot of you,” Alex interrupts, “Injuries don’t mean shit, ‘specially not when you don’t know what the fuck she’s gone through.”

Soap directs his ire toward the man at your side, voice thick with anger and his accent when he counters, “And ye know ‘er so much better, jus’ cause ye got in ‘er pants? Aye?”

“Because he isn’t acting like a goddamn meathead!” You find yourself fisting your hand into his shirt, pulling him closer to you, faces inches apart.

“‘Nd kissin’ ‘n tellin’ is fine ‘nd dandy,” Soap laughs, without a hint of humour, “Thought ye had standards.”

A lot of things happen in the preceding moment.

You’d like to say you can’t be blamed for any of the actions that occur, but you also know that accountability is a virtue. And you mean to uphold it.

It goes something like this.

The fist that had been wrapped in his shirt pulls back, and instead, collides with his jaw.

Arms wrap around your chest, caging your arms to your side. Arms, too, wrap around Soap, pulling him away from you. You’re both yelling obscenities, none of which you can name, and you both fight against your restraints.

You don’t need to have a full frame of mind to know that it’s Alex and Price holding you back, and through the haze of it all, you’re sure it’s Ghost and Farah keeping Soap away.

“Calm the hell down!” Price commands, voice a beam of light in a storm. It brings you back to yourself, but not enough to stem the bleeding of your anger, just enough for you to recognise it.

“Bloody idiot, Johnny, get it together!” Ghost is saying to Soap, standing in front of him and shaking his shoulders as Farah’s arms remain wrapped around his torso, keeping his fists below his waist.

Gaz is nowhere to be seen.

“Don’t fucking speak to be, Johnny, I don’t want to see your face,” you shout, eyes glassy, before you finally ease into Price and Alex’s grips, their own going lax. You shoulder off their arms, before without a word, storming down the corridor.

Your name’s called out after you, ‘Sweetheart’, ‘Moonflower’ – none of it matters. Not past the roaring in your ears, the spite burning in your veins. The pent up energy of an unfinished fight.

Shoving open the door to your – Gaz’s – room, you startle when you see the man himself, standing in the middle of the room, shirt in hand. The only light comes from the window, the full moon high in the sky more than enough light to serve as a lamp. His sweats hang loose on his hips, his muscles bulging but still lithe, more like a gymnast’s build than a wrestler’s.

He’s never looked better.

Whether that’s the adrenaline speaking, or the anger, you don’t know. Don’t care. Not past the need to have his mouth against your own.

It takes all of two seconds before the door slams shut behind you, and you’re shoving Gaz onto the bed, his own groan answer enough. His brown eyes glisten with the moonlight, and his throat dips when he swallows, focus trained on where you tug off that damn leather jacket. your shirt following.

“I don’t want to hear a word from you,” you demand, “Unless it’s yes, no, or please.”

He nods, shaky, voice breaking when he responds, “Yes.”

Kicking off your pants, leaving you standing in only your panties and bra, you move to straddle him. He dutifully remains laid onto the bed, chest heaving in harsh sweeps, mouth slightly open in a mixture of shock and lust.

“Where do you get off,” you breathe, voice heavy with threat as you drag your pointer finger along the length of his throat, before following the line of his collarbone, “Being all moody about who I’ve fucked? What gives you the right?”

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, the weakest he’s ever sounded, “Not – I’m not mad, I just. I want you.”

Your hand finds his neck, forming a light grip around it. You haven’t applied any pressure, but his breath hitches at the weight of it, the promise.

“That sounded like more than one syllable,” you frown, mockingly patronising. You squeeze his neck, not anywhere hard enough to choke, but enough to have him squeezing his eyes shut. “We can talk later.”

He nods, harsh, quick jerks of his head, and the slightly unhinged smile returns to your face.

You hadn’t gotten the fight you’d yearned for, not with Soap, but this is a good enough replacement for that need.

Dragging your hand down his bare chest, you pause when you see scars. Not healed like those from battle, and ones you recognise. Before you can process what it means, Gaz lets out a sharp gasp, and when you look to him, his eyes are wide and.

And scared.

“No, hey, you can speak,” you ramble, and you can feel the flame of rage dim to sparking charcoal. It should be scary, how quickly you find yourself worried for the man, but it’s not. “It’s okay.”

“I should’ve told you,” he immediately breathes, squeezing his eyes shut once more. His head falls back to the bed once more. “I’m.”

He swallows, and you find your hand gravitating to his throat once more – this time, in a soft, soothing caress.

“I’m trans,” he finishes, saying it like one would whisper a secret in a confessional. Your heart stutters in your chest, and it aches, the idea that he’s had lovers who’ve made him feel so awful about his identity.

Your hand moves from his neck to his cheek, thumb brushing underneath his eyes, and they finally flutter open once more.

They soften when they see your smile.

“Thank you for telling me,” you say, voice low and cautious. “If you wanna stop, it’s fine, but,” you shrug, “You’re hot. I still wanna fuck. You might have to show me what feels best, but that’s kinda hot, too.”

“You’re okay with it?” His voice is fragile, shaky, and fuck he’s pretty.

“I’m okay with it,” you echo, sentiment genuine and kind. “Tell me what you want, Kyle.”

His arms remain laid out on the bed at either side of him, his skin still heated with want and need and wanton lust. His voice strengthens when he answers.

“I want you to use me – take it out on me,” he says. “Please.”

And who are you to deny such a request?

author's note. i was veryveryvery close to orphaning or marking as complete. i'm not really in or interested in the COD fandom at all anymore, but, i realised that i also want to see where this story goes? excluding the characters, the actual story and world i've created for sweetheart has me wanting to see it to its end.

that, along with the fans. you guys and your genuine interest and comments have made this project worth it. i can't express enough how much you all mean to me, especially those that comment on every chapter and have been there every step of the way. thank you, thank you, thank you.

i can't promise as efficient and regular updates, but i CAN promise that i plan to finish this story in its entirety.

thank you to those who have stuck around, and thank you for those that continue to do so. you mean the world to me, and the very writing of this fic is owed to you.

(also, if anyone has any feedback on my trans rep and dealing with a trans character, PLEASE lmk. i am in no way perfect, and if i've made a mistake, please tell me so i can fix it and grow as a writer!)

taglist. @lilpothoscuttings @jng-yuan @iruzias @insatiablekittie @1wh4re1nova @kaoyamamegami @supernaturalstilinski @inthemiddle0feverywhere @msecho19 @nogood-boyo @alfa-jor @lalashhyl @letmeapologise @honeybeeznutz @1mawh0re @lalashhyl @someonepleasedateme @letmeapologise @uhhellnogetoffpleasenowty @inarabee @simp-sentral @littlecellist @clear-your-mind-and-dream @browtfyoudoing @oreo-cream @fanngirl19 @infpt-zylith @marispunk @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago @xvintageghostx @thigh-o-saur @thriving-n-jiving @callsign-pyro @mmmangel @aisawa-reo @just-pure-trash @silly-norman @annoyingstrawberryballoon @chop-zulyzulyyy

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cillianmesoftlyyy · 2 months ago

Text

Moth to the Flame Pt. 1 | Dr. Crane x Reader

summary: Dr. Jonathan Crane isn't the only 'crazy' in Gotham City and he's about to meet his match. When confronted with an unpleasant secret from his past, he's skeptical to trust the strange young woman who calls herself Victoria Vale, the rightful heiress to Arkham Asylum (and maybe his downfall).

warnings: none yet but oh baby just you wait...

A/N: I really enjoy using the original DC comic lore so if you've been following me for a while, you'll recognize the backstories in this but I've tried to make a completely different plot line.

bury a friend- Billie Eilish 🎶

“Professor Crane?” You poke your head into the small office, the heavy door slightly crushing your body against the doorframe. The raven-haired man looks up from a stack of research papers on his desk and cocks an unwelcome eyebrow.

“Come back during my office hours.” He waves you off with his free hand as he grades a paper with a red pen. His voice has the strange ability to both attract you and put you ill-at-ease at the same time. You step inside and let the heavy door close behind you. You don’t need to lock it, yet. Dr. Crane looks you up and down quickly, his lip curled in displeasure and disinterest.

“It’s a quick question, I promise sir,” you lie through your teeth, your dimples showing beneath your full cheeks as you smile. Dr. Crane looks up at you from over the rim of his harsh rectangular frames. He stares at you for a moment, his blue eyes shifting as he thinks, then finally he sighs and sits back in his desk chair.

“What’s your name?” He removes his glasses and wipes the lenses clean with the corner of his suit jacket. He puts them back on as you sit down opposite of him, the desk between you. You glance down at the research papers, an action that is barely noticeable, if at all.

“Victoria,” you answer and watch as Dr. Crane sighs again, impatiently. He rolls his eyes after a moment of silence and leans forward, gesturing his hand through the air to get you to continue.

“What did you want to ask me?” He asks pointedly, losing whatever patience he had left.

“Well we’ve spoken once before but it was just a brief exchange after one of your lectures,” you start and Crane watches you, barely paying attention now. His eyes seem to glaze over. “I asked you about the chemical components of fear. I’d like to hear your answer.” You say slowly, your hands playing with the edge of your seat. Dr. Crane barely cocks his head to the side before he clucks his tongue and looks away.

“Did you not like the answer I gave you before?”

“I’d forgotten what you said,” you explain as you wipe your clammy hands on your thighs. Dr. Crane threw his gaze back to you and raised an eyebrow, his expression one of obvious judgment.

“Fear is an emotional response to a threat. It’s a basic evolutionary survival mechanism. The two primary parts of the brain that deal with fear are the amygdala and the hippocampus…” he answers dully, regurgitating what every psych student already knows.

“Respectfully, sir,” you start, your voice steady, “I’m talking about the chemical components of fear, not the anatomical.”

Dr. Crane regards you with an unreadable expression and then removes his glasses, sighing deeply again. He looks down at his glasses and then clears his throat.

“You’re interested in fear chemistry, are you?” His tone is low and dry, like he’s mocking you.

“Interested isn’t exactly the right word.” You answer with a small shrug.

“What is the right word then, Victoria?” The way he says your name is sharp, like a door closing when you aren’t expecting it. He finally looks up at you again.

“I’m…” you search for the right word and then wet your lips, “... attracted to the concept of fear. It’s almost like a passion project that can’t be satisfied.”

“Attracted to fear?” Crane repeats slowly, though his face doesn’t change.

“Fear is one of the most fascinating phenomena in the creation of our universe, don’t you think?”

Dr. Crane regards you differently, his breath shifting to a new rhythm. He wets his lips before he answers, his words measured.

“One could debate that. I’d say pleasure or desire are more complex and powerful. Why fear?”

“It’s the power of control over both the mind and body,” you respond without batting an eye.

“Is it power that fascinates you, Victoria?” Crane asks softly, his hands clenching and relaxing in his lap. “One could say that pleasure can have a similar effect.”

You allow yourself to blush, knowing it’ll look more believable if you do. “Well, it’s also about control…”

Dr. Crane looks down at his hands again and thinks for a moment before responding, his voice still calm and even despite the shift in the room.

“Do you find control attractive?”

“Well, don’t you? Isn’t that why you became a teacher? The role gives you control over the development of new minds,” you smile sweetly.

A rare smirk creeps across Crane’s face. He looks up at you and puts his glasses back on, the silver frames catching the light of the fluorescent bulbs.

“You’re very perceptive,” he trails off and folds his hands on the desk in front of him. “Control is a powerful and attractive aspect of fear.”

“And what’s so fascinating about fear specifically is that it is universal. Everyone has something that they’re afraid of… even you. And that’s what led me to ask myself this question: what are you, Professor Crane, afraid of? And for the life of me, I can’t figure it out.” Your eyes meet his with an obvious change in intentionality. Crane doesn’t react but feels himself leaning forward slightly like a snake rearing its head.

“I have a few guesses but it doesn’t matter for right now,” you continue when he doesn’t respond. “I read your old thesis about fear in mammalian species and it’s given me a lot of insight into my own mind.”

“You’ve read my thesis?” Dr. Crane cocks his brow again and grips his hands together painfully. His body goes cold in warning like a lightning rod in a thunderstorm. “Most of my students barely attend class, much less decide to read my work.”

This is the moment. You lean forward slightly, your hair falling off your shoulders, your eyes wide with excitement.

“Oh, I never said I was a student, Professor Crane.”

Dr. Crane freezes, his cold heart stuttering in his chest. He swallows slowly, trying to collect his thoughts before he responds.

“Then who, may I ask, are you?”

“I attended one of your lectures on radical treatment of phobias, which is where we spoke for the first time, and yes, I did sit in on one of your classes and left with additional reading materials and a better appreciation for your work. Your thesis however,” you tilt your head away in a show of shyness, “that’s available for any ‘crazy’ to find.”

“Mmm so, you’re just a ‘crazy’ then?” Crane hums cooly, “But that still doesn’t answer how you managed to get a copy of my thesis. It was pulled from circulation and all hard copies that I was aware of were destroyed.”

“I’m good at getting answers and it helps when people find you attractive…” you shift in your seat, looking away. You can feel Crane’s eyes on you as he considers your answer.

“And I guess that means you think that I find you attractive?” Crane guesses cooly, his eyes not leaving your face. You look back at him and take note of his guarded expression. Taking a breath, you fix your hair and meet his eyes.

“I think you’re attracted to my mind.”

“Who are you?” He asks again, leaning closer against his better judgment, like a moth to the flame.

“I’m surprised you’re so unconcerned with my presence here, late at night when everyone else has gone home…” your posture is rigidly still as you speak. Dr. Crane smirks softly.

“You are a very beautiful and intelligent young woman, and you don’t look very dangerous to me. Why would I be concerned?”

“Because I think I know what you’re afraid of, doc.” You whisper and Crane freezes again, his heart jumping in his chest at your thinly veiled threat. Despite his feelings of unease, Crane smiles. He studies your lips as you speak and the way your body is angled towards him.

“And what is it that I’m afraid of?”

And just like that, it’s become a game.

You smile a little, wanting him to feel safe and comfortable. He isn't intimidated by you yet and you want him to take you seriously. You lean closer, ducking your head in a whisper.

“Being found out…”

“About what, pet?” Crane asks pointedly, in a challenging tone.

“Well…,” you sit back in your chair casually and tuck your hair behind your ears. “I’ve always had a natural inclination towards crime. That’s what made me become a detective. I thought what I wanted was to restore justice in Gotham, but I’ve quickly learned that justice is a jealous mistress and maybe my interest in crime has other motives… Are you following me so far?”

Dr. Crane massages his mouth with his hand, listening intently. His lips are pursed beneath his fingers, his eyes void of any telling secrets.

“So far,” he sighs.

“You and I share something very important. It’s made us both who we are today. I just realized it before you did.”

“Oh? And what do you think we share?” He furrows his brow skeptically.

You stand and brush the hem of your dress over your thighs. As Crane watches you, you trail a finger over the books on your bookshelf, stopping at one and pretending to read one of the pages.

“Thomas Wayne.”

You toss the book in front of him on the desk. The book is open to the author bio. It’s a picture of your parents, the authors of a book on criminal psychology. The Arkhams.

"These are my parents. My name was Victoria Vale when I was born. Thomas Wayne murdered them and they put me in an orphanage. I didn’t know they were my parents until I started looking into the Waynes. And then I found you…” You keep your story short and to-the-point, not wanting to reveal too much. Dr. Crane looks between the photo and you, his brow furrowed as he works it all out in his head. Maybe for the first time in his life, he finds himself speechless.

“So you really are crazy, aren’t you, pet?” He covers the shaky tone of his voice with a sneer. You ignore him and close the book, pushing it aside on the desk.

“Tell me, what did Thomas Wayne do to you?”

Dr. Crane looks up at you and scoffs. He removes his glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and his thumb until the pressure between his eyes fades.

“And why would I tell you that?”

“Because I already know the answer, I’m just giving you the opportunity to say it.” You lean against the bookshelf and cross your arms over your chest. Dr. Crane regards you with suspicion and shakes his head.

“You’re bluffing.”

“Am I?” You bite back. You stare at each other, eyes narrowed and blood pumping. Dr. Crane finally sighs through his nose and puts his glasses back on. His eyes bore into you, punishing you for asking him this question. He holds your gaze with a mixture of pain, bitterness and cold rage. He speaks as if the words are acid in his mouth.

“Thomas Wayne destroyed my family and my childhood. He was a ruthless and cruel man and I’m glad he’s dead.”

You stare back at him and notice the original tension between you changing, shifting as your power shifts.

“Then we’re kindred spirits, you and I. It was only a matter of time until I found you, the famous criminal psychiatrist with-” You lean over the desk, looking directly into his eyes,” startling blue eyes.” You take a breath before continuing, not waiting for him to respond.

“Because I’m a good detective, not like any of my ignorant male peers, I looked into a string of unusual robberies and I noticed that most of Falcone’s men were being moved to Arkham Asylum… on your orders.”

Crane is silent for a moment, impressed by your intelligence and deduction. He feels his heart starting to pound a little faster again. He does not deny it, but doesn’t confirm your suspicions either.

“I may have had some influence in those transfers.”

“Don’t worry, Crane, I’m not here to cause trouble for you. I just wanted to meet the man I’ve admired for so long and see if I can be of some… help.” You smile and pass your fingers over the research papers organized across the desk. You’re catching him off guard on how well you know him and he can’t tell if he likes it or not. His eyes flick across your face again, taking in the sight of your dark eyes and darker eyelashes.

“You admire me?”

“Don’t let it get to your head.”

“How does a young, beautiful girl like yourself become so interested in a man like me?” Then he pauses and wets his lips before adding with a smirk, “why, exactly, do you admire me?”

“Your work, it’s impressive. And what can I say… ” You look back up at him with a serious look on your face as you drag a finger across the research papers, pulling out a piece of scratch paper. “I like your style.”

On the corner of the paper, there is a drawing of a scarecrow. You drag it slowly across the desk until it sits in front of Crane on the desk. You don’t need to say anything else. He looks down at the drawing, swallows, then looks up at you.

“Stop acting dumb, doc. I know more than you think. Like I said, I’m good at finding information and sticking my nose into places where it may not belong.”

Crane’s pulse quickens at the edge in your voice, his fingers reaching for and clutching the paper tightly. He wants to be irritated, but somehow you’re bringing out a different, a darker and playful part of him.

“Once again, you’ve proven yourself to be a very observant and talented young woman. Maybe too talented. I think you’re too dangerous to keep around my office, Miss Vale. You’re a liability.”

“What are you going to do to me, Crane? Are you going to use your… little fear toxin on me?” You smile, leaning further across the desk where Crane hasn’t moved from his seat. He looks up at you, smirking slyly.

“Maybe I will.” Dr. Crane starts to stand, and when he does, he’s taller than you but not by much. He isn’t a very tall man, you could easily take him if you needed to. You’re still separated by the desk but you’re close enough to smell his cologne.

“Impressed by my skills of deduction?” You ask, clasping your hands behind your back.

Crane walks slowly around his desk to stand in front of you, looking you up and down intently. He tilts his head to the side, his voice distant and distracted.

“More than a little impressed, yes. You’ve figured out an awful lot about me in a very short time.”

“Now don’t you want to know why I’m here? Your survival instincts are annoyingly slow, Crane,” you tease.

Crane bristles, displeased with your slight to his intelligence. He crosses his arms over his chest and sits back against the desk, clenching his jaw. “I would love to know why you’re here. You’ve been very coy about that point.”

You nod and move away from him to continue looking at the books, organized meticulously on the bookshelf. “I have a proposition for you. I want to be… business partners.” You can see Crane watching you from out of the corner of your eye. Crane chuckles a little, stunned.

“Business partners, huh? And what exactly would that entail?”

Crane’s eyes sweep over your figure again as he imagines what kind of ‘business partners’ he’d want to be.

“I’ll help you with your grand plan for Gotham and in return I get two things…” you keep your eyes on the spines, your fingers following the edges of each book.

“Mm?” Crane hums, listening carefully now that you have his full attention.

“1. I get to lead beside you when you successfully turn Gotham upside down and 2. I get what’s rightfully mine… Arkham Asylum.” You turn back to look at him, refusing to be intimidated by him even when he looks at you like something he’d like to eat.

Crane’s eyes widen and he almost starts to laugh. His navel warms, aroused by your attitude and threats. He chuckles softly and moves his hands to grip the desk on either side of his body.

“Gotham city flipped upside down, and Arkham Asylum in your hands. Your terms are surprisingly bold, Miss Vale.”

“What can I say, Crane? I’m in the business of retribution.” You shrug, not backing down.

Crane chuckles again and shakes his head, “Touché.” He imagines himself pinning you against the bookshelf and feels himself get hard just at the thought of it. He watches you closely, noticing your unwavering resolve. “And how can you be sure I won’t use my toxin on you?”

It’s your turn to laugh now. You smile and step closer to him, meeting his cool eyes. You let your eyes look him up and down, admiring the way his lean body hides beneath his expensive suit.

“I’ve prepared for that possibility… but I like playing with fire.” You pull a lighter out from your pocket and strike a flame. It glows between your faces.

Crane smiles in amusement at your audacity then his eyes dart between your face and the flame separating the two of you.

“You are playing a dangerous game, Miss Vale.”

“My favorite,” you respond coolly and play with the flame in your hand. Crane’s eyes follow the flame and he swallows. “So? What say you?”

He should stop you, he should kick you out of his office and ignore you, but the fire in your eyes and the confidence in your words makes him want to take a risk. He reaches out quickly and takes hold of your chin, tilting your face up so that he can see it clearly. His voice is a low whisper.

“You’re a dangerous little thing, aren’t you?”

“Oh, you have no idea.” You snap the lighter closed and tuck it into Crane’s breast pocket. “Regards from Thomas Wayne. I thought you should have it.”

Crane looks down at the lighter, dropping his hand away from your chin. His eyes dart back to your face, assessing the weight of your words. Your demeanor is cold and almost amused. Crane swallows, his skin growing cold where the lighter now sits.

“Where did you get this, Miss Vale?”

“Not only do I want what’s rightfully mine, you deserve what they took from you too. Think of this as my promise and a peace offering.” You pat his breast pocket, your face getting dangerously close to his. He flinches when you touch him and clenches his jaw. He looks down to your hand patting his pocket and raises a sharp brow.

“And you’re willing to help me get my revenge?”

“It would be mine too.”

“Against Thomas Wayne?”

“Against the whole city… but especially the Waynes.” You whisper, managing to take a step closer. Crane chuckles, admiring the way your eyes darken when you speak so severely. He leans down a little closer to your ear, his breath ruffling your hair.

“A pretty, vengeful vixen. I’m starting to like you, Miss Vale.”

“Now, now, now-” You push him back with a sly smile, your teeth showing, “We’re business partners, not fuck buddies. You’ll need to behave yourself if you want to make this work.”

Crane actually laughs, though the sound is raspy and dark, it’s still a laugh. He allows you to push him back and holds up his hands in mock surrender, sitting back on the edge of his desk.

“Feisty. Ok, I’ll play the part. No need to worry, Miss Vale… though the thought is… tempting.”

“Not intoxicating? I’ll just have to try harder next time,” you smile as you pull on your coat from the chair. Dr. Crane watches you from his desk, his eyes following your arms as you slide into the quilted coat.

“Oh you know exactly how intoxicating you are. Don’t be coy, Miss Vale.”

“Maybe I’m just a Jack of All Trades,” you shrug and move to the door. Crane crosses his arms over his chest again and nods slowly.

“Yes, I’m starting to see that now. You’re full of surprises.” He can’t help but look you up and down again, his eyes lingering on the shape of your thighs or the angular way you hold your head. He wets his lips, wetting his pallet.

“Well, here’s another one,” you smile, fully aware of his arousal, “Falcone was taken into custody today. Someone, and I’m not saying who, may have given him a razor blade. He’ll need a psych evaluation and you need to be the one to do it. I don’t trust him to keep his mouth shut if this goes to trial.”

Crane raises an eyebrow, impressed by your thoroughness.

“Falcone in custody. Hmm. A razor blade? What a coincidence...” he starts to wonder exactly how far you’re willing to take this revenge of yours. He can feel himself getting excited in more ways than one.

“You’ve got the right idea, Miss Vale. I’d be more than happy to take over his evaluation.”

“Good. I’ll arrange for you to administer it between your lectures. You’re such a busy man. Professor by day, psychopath by night. I don’t know how you do it.”

“I’ve made a lot of sacrifices,” he answers cooly, calmly, “As have you, it seems.”

Something passes between you, something shifts once again in your eyes.

“Goodnight, Dr. Crane.”

You start to leave but turn around briefly to speak, your eyes growing softer. You’re actually capable of feelings too, not just well-worded threats. “Don’t lose the lighter… it’s the one he used…”

You leave the sentence in the air between you, hoping he’ll understand what you mean. Dr. Crane seems to freeze again as he processes what you’re saying. He puts his hand against his breast pocket to feel the outline of the lighter. He clenches his jaw and finally nods.

“Goodnight, Miss Vale.”

You nod once and open the door, pushing against its heavy weight.

“I’ll be in touch,” you say over your shoulder and Crane fixes his glasses.

“I’m sure.”

Only when the door closes behind you and you’re walking down the dim hallway do you allow yourself to exhale. Dr. Crane was so much more impressive in person… and so much more attractive. You had almost faltered on your plans until you remembered how much you needed him, and how important it was that the two of you meet. Though you must admit, acting unbothered has never been harder. You run your hand through your hair and slip out of the science building on campus. You’re wearing a quilted coat, more for professionalism than warmth. It’s late Spring in Gotham and it’s too warm for a coat. In fact, there’s a heatwave coming in the next week. But you keep the coat on because the color is dark, helping you blend into the shadows of every building in the city.

The moment the door closes, Crane finds himself almost unable to breathe. He’s nearly shaking and feels strangely off-balance like you’ve completely turned his world on its head. He walks back around his desk to his chair and slowly lowers himself into the seat. He exhales shakily and pinches the bridge of his nose above his glasses. Part of him wants you, the other part wants you gone. With a sigh, Crane pulls the lighter out of his pocket and places it on the desk, looking at it while his thoughts run wild.

You hadn’t needed to say the words for him to piece it together: this was the lighter that Thomas Wayne used to kill his mother, and by extension, his father. The knowledge of what you’ve given him finally sinks in and he takes a deep breath, his jaw clenching again. He feels a cold shiver rush over him, a thousand thoughts running through his mind at once. He can’t tell if he wants to cry or scream or laugh. Crane reaches out and grabs the lighter, his knuckles turning white. He thinks of you, of your audacity to crash his carefully constructed life with your own plans of revenge. He plays with the lighter, his lips pulled into an unhappy snarl. But the longer he thinks about you, the more he feels himself growing to like you. As much trouble as you could cause him, he liked how fast you thought on your feet and how good you looked in that dress.

Hours seem to pass before he can slowly regain control of himself enough to clear his head a little. He’s trying to understand you… he wants to trust you but there’s a very loud part of his mind that’s screaming not to. He can’t deny the fact that you’ve completely enthralled him, in fact, the thought of seeing you again makes his heart pound in perverse excitement. He tosses the lighter back on the desk and runs a hand over his face.

“Damn you…"

171 notes · View notes

yagirlwrites · 1 month ago

Text

Make Me Proud | (Sub!Rafe)

Pairing: sub!Rafe x domme!Reader

Synopsys: Rafe and Reader finally get to release their pent up tension from the Halloween party. He wants to earn his prize so they explore a new way of pleasure together.

Warnings: SMUT (18+), anal play (m receiving), oral (f receiving), fluff

Word Count: 6.4k

A/N: Hii!!! I know it took me a while but it's finally finished! I hope you enjoy this smutty goodnes and that it was worth the wait! Let me know what you think! I'm excited for them exploring more ways to give/receive pleasure!

Series Masterlist

My work is my own; it's not to be copied, transferred or translated. Reblogs, comments, feedback are always welcome and appreciated❤️

Happy reading🥰

Make Me Proud

The harsh rays of sun pricked at his eyelids forcing him to awaken against his will, letting out a pained groan. Blinking his eyes open he slowly begun to gather his bearings and the first thing he noticed was the emptiness of the bed next to him.

There was a low pang in his chest at her absence. The second thing he noticed was the pounding in his head, no doubt attributed to the hangover bound to ruin his day. He made such a huge mistake downing all those shots last night. As the memories started flooding back he became aware of just how much of a fool he'd made of himself. In front of her, to make shit ten times worse. Just as he was beginning to wonder if his behavior caused her to leave, the door slowly opened and he watched her tiptoe inside, unaware of his inner turmoil.

Once her eyes landed on his sprawled out figure she realized he was finally awake. Had she been up for several hours, bored out of her mind but not wanting to wake him? Maybe. Did she sneak into the kitchen to make them both a cup of coffee when she finally got sick of laying motionless next to him? Perhaps.

"Morning, sunshine." She smirked at his response, an unamused grunt. He was definitely feeling the aftermath of those drinks. She felt kinda bad for him but it was his own fault he was in this state.

"What time is it?" His morning voice always got her tummy fluttering and today was no different. The ways in which this man drove her insane were unfathomable to her.

"Nine. I thought you'd sleep longer. The house is still dead." She made her way back to bed, giving him a generous view of her bare thighs as she shuffled in next to him. He barely noticed the coffee cup right in front of his face, too distracted by how soft and sexy her legs looked and how she still smelled so damn good even after a long night.

"Rafe..." her voice sounded half amused half exasperated, causing him to finally snap his attention back to her face and see the amused expression she bore. He blushed at being caught so blatantly ogling her, but he didn't try to play it off. There was no need to anyway, she knew just how attracted he was to her.

He took the cup with a small thank you, forcing himself into a somewhat upright position and downing half of it in one go. She scoffed out a laugh and rolled over to the bedside table to grab him a bottle of water she put there last night. Once she turned back she caught him staring at her ass, which had peeked out from under his shirt she was wearing. Raising her eyebrow at catching him, again, in under 2 minutes, he paid her back with a sheepish smile.

Those damn dimples always got to her. She was a sucker like that. He didn't need to know how quickly she got weak for him though, so she bit back her smile and decided to keep on a face of neutrality, knowing it drove him crazy when he couldn't tell what mood she was in.

"Are you hungry?" She casually posed the question while scrolling on her phone and he wished she'd just look at him instead. Pathetic. But hey, he was accepting it. She drove him insane every single day and he liked it.

"A little... The burger helped, though. Thanks." He gave her a cute smile almost causing her to break her act, but she perservered. He was just too fun to mess with, she couldn't help herself.

"You're welcome." She went back to her phone and he pouted. The throbbing in his head was making him more impatient than usual so he snapped and forced her into a bear hug, almost knocking the wind out of her.

"Rafe!" He laughed into her skin, enjoying the sound of her carefree giggle more than he thought possible.

"Get off!" Her words had no real bite to them, so he just pulled away slightly, just to look at her face.

"Thank you for taking care of me. And I'm sorry for getting drunk." He kissed her sweetly, almost making her lose her head completely. These moments of gentle affection always had both of their heads spiraling.

"You're lucky you're cute.." she sighed out a labourious breath and he laughed at the dramatics.

"I'm very lucky." He was looking at her with the most lovesick expression, she couldn't handle it. She had to break the moment before it broke her.

"Indeed. And quite desperate, based on all the begging you were doing last night." She was kinda mean for bringing that up. He was confused for all of 5 seconds before he realized what begging she was referring to. Once he did, his skin turned bright pink and the temperature of his body rose.

He had begged her to let him go down on her like a little bitch. Dear God, the embarrassment was about to eat him up, the blush not letting up for a moment.

She cracked a smile then, breaking the stoic act and he felt an immediate relief at that. He remembered what she'd told him - that he didn't need to be embarrassed about his desires. So he swallowed down his pride and awkwardness and decided to end this little game of hers. Instead of becoming sheepish he got serious.

"You still haven't told me how I can earn it." His words shook her. She was enjoying teasing him and then he flipped the switch. She could see the smirk begging to be let out at the corner of his lips, his eyes hungry and not hiding his arousal at all. She had a feeling that if she took the covers off he'd be packing a hard-on again. He was playing with fire.

"You really want to earn it?" Her eyes shifted and her domme voice returned. His skin was buzzing with excitement, hoping to finally get something out of her.

"Yes, ma'am." He smiled and she could feel her composure slipping away.

"Just wanna make you feel good." His voice dropped an octave and she could feel the dampness in her panties, the temperature in the room heating up.

"I feel good when I make you feel good, baby." Teasing, teasing, teasing. He knew she was playing him again. He swallowed, mouth feeling dry at the way she was looking at him.

"I want to taste you so bad." There it was. The honest response. She didn't want him pretending he was only interested in it for her benefit and now he was finally being truthful.

"Yeah?" She got on top of him, lips inches apart. His breath becoming her own as she stared deep into his eyes, testing his limits.

"Yes....please..." she kissed him then. A kiss so heated it could probably warm up an entire room. Little whines left his throat as she bit down on his lip, feeling his erection pressing into her ass. He was so gone.

"Please." It was a whisper, she barely heard it but she had. And boy did it have her losing her damn mind. The desperation he exhibited for her drove her wild. She had to pull away in order for both of them to catch their breaths again. God, was he testing her.

"I love the way you beg, baby." She whispered into his ear, leaving soft, wet kisses on his neck, causing him to groan... it was such a delicious torture.

"Fuck..." his whines got louder when she bit into that spot where his neck and shoulder meet, eyes rolling back. She was everything.

She had a whole scene in her mind then, clear as day. Trying to think of all the logistics was proving difficult when she was so damn turned on, causing her to pull away. He whined at the loss of contact, nearly shedding a tear. She'd built him up so high he didn't think he could survive her rejection now.

She took the water bottle and took a huge gulp, his lust filled eyes tracing her features, trying to figure out how to stop her from pulling away from him further. He thought he'd definitely cry if she did, too turned on to function. She tried getting up off of him, causing him to whine and wrap his hands around her, refusing to let her go. She nearly laughed seeing the desperation on his face, the sheer need to keep her there.

"Baby. Let go." He reluctantly loosened his grip, looking at her with big, sad eyes nearly breaking her heart.

"It's okay, sweet boy." She kissed his cheek and then shocked him by squirting water on his face. He gasped, looking at her in bewilderment. She couldn't help but laugh then.

"What..?" The confusion on his face made her laugh harder. She needed to cool them both down and this was the first thing she could think of. She can't have this conversation if she isn't thinking clearly.

"I'm sorry, I just needed you to snap out of it. Sorry, baby." She wiped the remaining water off his face. She kissed him again and pushed herself further away from him, so she can think.

"What the hell?" He was mumbling, still half in shock making her feel a bit guilty.

"Look if you're serious then we need to talk. I can't think when we're..." she drifted off then, causing him to realize what happened. She was having trouble controlling herself just as he was, so she did a silly thing to help herself think. He felt endeared, realizing that the moment had affected her just as strongly as it did him.

"Okay. Talk." He was nodding, sitting up, facing her, trying to ignore the painful boner she left him with.

"You want to be a good boy?" How was he supposed to stay calm when she says shit like that to him? Damn.

"Yes." He struggled to stay still, not to draw nearer, to feel her skin against him again. It was so hard.

"Remember when you said you were open to anal play?" Her words shook him to his core. She could see the shock in his eyes before he had a chance to mask it.

"Ye-yeah. I remember..." he wasn't sure where this was going anymore.

"Are you still? Or did you just say that cause you thought it's what I wanted to hear?" He was shaking his head before she even finished the question.

"No. I- I meant it. I want to try." She smiled at him then, a soft look on her face the polar opposite of how she looked just minutes ago.

"Yeah?" He nodded, urging her to believe him. He had no idea what she was planning but he wanted nothing more than to do whatever she wanted. Even if he was nervous.

"I want to be your good boy." His words nearly had her eyes roll back but she managed to control herself. He was so fucking hot when he gave himself to her completely.

"Okay. Well, we need to prepare, we can't do it now-"

"Why not?" The whine was louder and brattier than he intended causing her to cock a brow at him.

"Well for one I don't have lube here, and-"

"I do!" This took her by surprise. But he interrupted her twice now and that was not acceptable.

"Okay, that's good. But if you interrupt me one more time we're not having any sex at all in the forseeable future." Her voice was authoritative, making him feel embarrassed at how childish he was acting.

"I'm sorry." He looked it too, so she accepted it with a nod.

"Okay. Well, we still can't do it here. I'd like us to shower first and have privacy." She was listing things, looking so cute while she rationalized their sex life. It would have been comical if it weren't driving him insane.

He knew she didn't want to shower in his house, having offered her the option before and being met with a horrified look and a respectful decline. She claimed she liked his friends but she didn't trust their hygiene in the slightest, causing him to laugh and agree with her. He loved her shower though. He got to use her pretty smelling shampoo and he always felt extra clean and sated after showering at her apartment.

"Then lets go to your place." It was a no brainer to him. She thought of all the possible issues but given that her plans for his first time trying anal play were small, she figured it would be fine without all the usual prep. They'd build up to that eventually.

"Okay." He lit up like a christmas tree.

"Really?" She chuckled at his newfound enthusiasm.

"Yes, really. But if you change your mind at any point you need to tell me, okay?" He was nodding along quickly but she didn't forget the initial apprehension on his face and she'd be damned if she let him do something he isn't into to try and please her. Not on her watch.

They got dressed and packed up their stuff pretty quickly, the excitement in the air palpable. Some people finally started to wake up just as they were leaving the house, catching a few "screw you's" for running off before the clean up from last night began. They didn't care, too wrapped up in each other and the anticipation of what's to come to be bothered.

----------------------------

They picked up some sandwiches on the way back to her apartment, at her insistence. He was way too excited for what she had planned to think about food, but his stomach thanked her all the same when his hunger was sated.

They didn't waste any time taking their clothes off and getting in the shower. It was such a wonderful moment between them, soft and loving, he way they washed each other from all the sweat and grime from the night before. She handled him more delicately than anyone ever had in his life, and he always felt so damn safe and taken care of when she touched him like that. As the shower drew to an end, they shared some lingering, warm kisses, igniting the fire from earlier all over again in a slow burning flame.

Anticipation was killing him, driving him wild with every second that passed of them drying off and getting ready in her room. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't nervous, but it was nothing compared to how excited he felt. The trust he had in her was so complete, he knew he was always safe with her to explore these kinks without danger or judgement. He knew she'd never force him to do anything he wasn't willing to do, and that opened up the door for him to get braver and more comfortable with trying new things.

They were on her bed, still naked from the shower, not feeling any need to prolong the inevitable. She kissed him slow and deep, tongues meeting in a teasing dance, driving them both wild. The little sounds he let out were going straight to her core. She was so excited about this, she had a feeling he'd love the sensation of having his ass played with and it made her proud that he was trusting her in this sensitive moment.

"Tell me the colors again." She ordered, kissing his neck, winding him up further. She always insisted he reminds himself of the colors, so there was no chance of a miscommunication in the heat of the moment.

"Green, yellow, red. I know the drill." He quickly listed the colors, exasperated and so turned on he could barely breathe.

"Don't get sassy." She warned, still kissing his skin, over his collar bones and shoulders. She loved to kiss the freckles on his body, finding them so damn beautiful.

He was struggling to breathe, forcing deep breaths into his lungs, while she worked him over, touching and kissing everywhere. His skin was flushed, muscles taut with restraint. It felt so good, her touch, he wondered how he didn't melt right into a puddle every time her skin was on his.

She kept exploring him with her fingerips and lips, nibbling on a nipple, lightly scratching down his abs, amping him up, every nerve ending so sensitive. His cock was hard as a rock and she couldn't help but smirk at his twitching, trying so hard to be good and not do anything she didn't tell him to.

She completely ignored his erection, instead focusing on massaging his balls causing moans to leave his lips. She loved the sounds he made, could get high on them.

"That feel good, huh?" She teased, kissing his thighs while she slowly moved one hand lower, barely touching his sensitive hole. He gasped as soon as her fingers brushed him there, finally grasping just how close she was to opening him up in a whole new way.

She laid kisses on his skin as her fingers slowly massaged around his hole, causing him to groan at the teasing tempo. He needed more, she was driving him nuts.

She could tell he was getting antsy, face flushed and little, desperate whines leaving his swollen lips. She reached for the bottle of lube she'd prepared, cracking it open and squeezing a generous amount on her fingers. Rubbing her fingers to warm them up, she looked at him, holding his breath in preparation.

"What's your color, baby?" She spread his legs wide open for better access, leaving him completely exposed in front of her.

"Green." The answer was immediate, a deep longing in his voice. He kept his eyes on her, eager to see every movement she made.

"I'm gonna go slow, okay? Nothing crazy. I promise." He was nodding, impatient yet grateful for the reassurance.

"Okay. Just please do something." She smiled at his little whine and decided to put him out of his mysery.

Her fingers finally made contact with the sensitive skin around his hole, massaging slowly, warming him up, making sure to put a decent amount of lube on his entrance. The massage felt so good he couldn't imagine how it could get better.

She kissed his tummy as she slowly eased the tip of her finger into his tight hole, causing a desperate gasp to leave him. She kept a watchful eye on his face, paying attention to every expression, every breath, twitch and sound that left him. She kissed his skin as she kept massaging and lightly slipping her finger into him deeper, going slowly not to overwhelm him. She was so damn turned on at how good he was being, proud of how brave he was to let her have him like this and eager to make him see stars.

Once she'd slowly eased a finger about half way, she checked in.

"How does it feel, baby?" She rubbed his thighs in a soothing motion which calmed his mind.

"Weird. But kinda good?" It was his first time ever having anything in his ass and the sensation was strange but at the same time he wanted more. He needed to know how good it could feel, because he knew she wouldn't do this if it wasn't going to make him feel great.

"You're doing so good for me, sweet boy." He whined at the praise, blushing profusely at the intimate situation.

"Still green?" He nodded quickly making her chuckle and continue her ministrations.

"Fuck..." he moaned as her finger went deeper, touching that sensitive spot inside him, causing his mind to go completely blank as she kept going. She started moving in and out slowly, grazing that magic spot with each thrust. The way he was responding was so fucking beautiful. He was letting out sounds she hadn't heard before, the brand new pleasure making him delirious.

"You're so tight around my finger, baby." The dirty talk had him whining in desperation, wanting more, wanting her to take him however she liked. This was so different to anything he'd experienced before and he really fucking liked it.

"Taking me so good." She kept talking him thought it as she gained speed, lightly curling her finger each time she grazed that spot, having him curling his toes in pleasure, gasps and moans leaving him without his knowledge. He was so wrapped up in how nice it felt he couldn't think of anything else but her finger, her touch, her voice overwhelming his senses.

"More." He whined out the most deperate little moan she'd ever heard in her life, her panties getting soaked seeing him like this.

"More?" She questioned, picking up the pace as his moans got louder, his head nodding, words escaping him.

She wasn't expecting to do more than one finger for the first time but the way he was reacting, taking it so well, so eager, begging for more? Yeah, she was losing her fucking mind. It was the hottest thing she'd ever witnessed.

"Think you can take another finger, baby boy?" His response an immediate, moaned out "yes, please". She could see his eyes getting teary and she didn't waste another moment before squirting more lube on him and easing another finger into his tight hole.

He was a mess of moans, grunts, whines, pleas and tears as she stretched him out, giving him a new level of pleasure as both fingers pumped into him. It was heaven. He couldn't believe he'd waited this long to do this. Though he couldn't imagine ever doing this with anyone else. She was it for him, he knew it. She blew his mind every fucking time they had sex, she introduced him to highs he never even imagined.

Fuck, it felt so good to have her on top of him, fucking him with her fingers, claiming him as hers. He was getting closer and closer, cock twitching on his stomach, leaking precum, red and throbbing without even being touched. It was insane.

"You look so beatiful, baby. Taking me so well. I'm so proud of you." His tears flowed freely at her words, overwhelmed at the pleasure and praise she was giving him. It was fucking perfect.

"I'm cl- so close." She could barely make out his words from the choked moan they escaped in.

"Yeah? You wanna cum, baby?" He was trashing under her now, losing all semblance of control as she worked him to his peak.

"Please..." his whines making her pussy throb with arousal, she picked up the pace, eager to see him fall apart for her.

"Be a good boy and cum for me." As she said those words she finally gripped his cock, squeezing him as he fell off the edge and into the most intense orgasm he'd ever had.

She got high off his desperate noises, the way he twitched as he orgasmed, clenching around her fingers, cock pulsing in her hand as his cum painted his stomach. It was so fucking beautiful, she couldn't look away even if she tried.

"Look at you. So pretty." She kissed his skin as the last of his aftershocks wore off. Her words were driving him insane, after everything that just happened, being flustered at a compliment seemed surreal but there he was.

It was the most intense experience of his life. And he couldn't be more grateful that he had her to guide him through it. He felt so sensitive and thoroughly wiped out, but in the best way possible.

"How you feeling, baby?" She posed the question as she gently cleaned up the mess he made all over his stomach using a tissue. He looked flushed and sated and she couldn't be more ecstatic about what just occured.

"Good." He let out a chuckle, meeting her gaze, melting at the way she was looking at him. So fondly, he couldn't cope.

"You did so good, angel. I'm so proud of you." Her words had him shook, the praise and approval making his insides feel like mush. If his skin wasn't already red from the intense scene he'd just been through, the blush would have been fierce.

"Thank you..." his soft whisper made the butterflies reappear in her tummy. He looked so fucking beautiful she couldn't handle it.

She made her way up his body, leaving soft kisses all over his skin, warming him up with each one. She kissed his face next, the salty remnant of the tears he'd shed from pleasure being washed away with soft pecks. It was so tender and sweet he almost cried all over again.

When her lips met his, he felt as though his heart just might burst at how full and happy he was. He had never felt this happy in his whole fucking life. How did he get so lucky?

"Holy shit, baby. That was the sexiest thing I've ever seen." He giggled at her words, making the smile on her face seem permanent. So fucking cute she couldn't handle it, leading her to smother his face in kisses, causing those giggles to come out again. She was in trouble.

"Alright, baby. Gonna go clean up, be right back." She laid a final peck on his lips before making her way to the bathroom. He felt cold as soon as her touch left him and he wondered how the hell he could miss someone who's only a room away.

She took her time washing her hands, making sure they were clean enough to touch him again. She wanted to run her fingers over his face and it killed her that she had to refrain. She knew he was feeling exhausted but she had one more thing in mind before they could relax. She was excited and hoped he had enough energy to handle it.

When she made her way back to the room she found him sleepily looking at her. He had a cute little smile on and her heart skipped a beat. She climbed back on top of him, warming him up all over again, making him release a relieved sigh. He wondered how healthy it was for him to need to be with her all the time, but he didn't have it in him to care too much. Her touch, her comfort, her care was addicting and he wouldn't want to change it for the world.

She kissed him softly, drawing out a satisfied moan from him as their tongues met. She cupped his face as she kissed him, taking his breath away once again. He slowly reached up to hold her closer, feeling relief he wasn't used to, once they were skin to skin.

"You were such a good boy for me." She kissed the corner of his mouth, leaving him to struggle with responding at how good it felt and how much he loved when she called him that.

"You up for more, baby?" The kisses travelled over his neck and his heart started racing once he processed her words.

"More? I don't know if I can..." he was all whiny and shy, not wanting to disappoint her but not feeling ready for another intense experience. He thought he was done.

"No?" She kissed under his ear making his eyes roll to the back of his head. She was driving him insane.

"You don't want your reward?" He gasped as she lightly bit into his shoulder, feeling like he'd float away any second. But then he realized what she'd said.

"What? You- Wh-" he was trying to force her to look at him, pulling her face gently up to meet her eyes as he stumbled over his words.

"Reward?" He was looking at her with wide eyes, confusion on his face obvious. She simply sat up and cocked a brow, waiting for him to figure it out. It took a minute for his brain to catch up with him but once it did he thought he'd lost it.

"You- Are you serious?" He was practically begging her to say yes with the way he was looking at her. Like if she said no, his heart would shatter.

"Mhm. If you think you can handle it." She shrugged and had to hold back a laugh when he started furiously nodding his head.

"Yes! I can. Please. Green. Yes, please. Please please please..." he was blushing at his desperation but couldn't hold it back. The though of finally getting to taste her was making every nerve in his body buzz in excitement. He was on the precipice of heaven and he couldn't handle rejection now.

"You sure? You weren't too excited earlier..." his stomach dropped at her words.

"No! I mean, yes! I am so sure, please. I just thought you meant more... of what happened earlier." He was blushing profusely as he tried to get her to understand he was serious about being able to handle eating her out.

The way he was acting all shy and sheepish and desperate was really tugging at her heartstrings.

"You mean when you came around my fingers?" His blush got fiercer as he shyly nodded. He hated how much she loved to tease him when he's so wound up. But the smile on her face in that moment almost made up for it.

"I don't know, it seemed like you were enjoying it..." She kept teasing him, running her fingers over his stomach causing him to squirm with the light tickles. She was playing with him and he knew it.

"You know I was. I just can't do more of that right now... But I can make you feel good. Please?" He was trying to hard not to let his frustration seep through in his words. He needed to stay on her good side if he wanted a chance to finally taste her tonight. But the eagerness which he felt was making him extra antsy, itching for a chance to have her in this new way.

"Since you asked so nicely and you took my fingers so well..." The blush on his face had no chance of leaving when she kept talking like that.

"I'm gonna ride your face. You okay with that, baby?" He was practically shaking with excitement, nodding his head an eager yes.

"Yes, please..." his whine had her tummy stirring again and the wetness from earlier returned.

Rafe thought he would pass out as he watched her straddling his chest, being so close to her heat he could almost smell it. He couldn't wait anymore, all his fantasies were coming alive in that moment. He thought he'd never craved anything more than to have her on his tongue. He knew once he tasted her he'd be addicted and he didn't care. He was so fucking close.

"If you want to stop or talk or anything, tap my thigh. Okay?" He was struggling to find words when he could see how pretty her pussy was up close and she was playing with his hair just right. A harsh tug broke his daze as he looked up at her and finally answered.

"Yes. Please sit on my face." She almost laughed at his eagerness but refrained, taking in the adorable little pout he had on his face.

"Okay, baby." She positioned herself above him and he felt like he'd explode in the few seconds it took for her to lower herself on his face. And then she was and it was paradise. He couldn't imagine anything in existence could ever be better than this moment.

Her scent, her taste, it was so fucking addicting right off the bat. He wasted no time exploring her with his mouth, savouring the new position he was lucky to end up in. His hands made home on her ass, feeling the plump skin, massaging it as his tongue licked at her warmth. He wasn't even aware of the noises he was making as he ate her, too consumed in her pussy and bringing her pleasure to hear the moans and groans leaving him. However, she could not only hear him, but feel the vibrations on her skin, making the pleasure of his whines that much stronger. It felt amazing. He was so good with his mouth, she had no doubt he would be but it was a whole other thing actually experiencing it firsthand.

She started to slowly grind on him and his moans only got louder, his movements more eager. He fucking loved this, loved having her ride his face. He could cum just from this, he'd swear. His cock was already fully hard again but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered but the woman on top of him, chasing her pleasure, using him - while he devoured his favorite meal of all time. He'd never enjoy the taste of anything more than her. He was a goner.

Her grinds got more intense, pressing her clit on his nose just right, causing his brain to go haywire at the way she was using him. His cock was twitching on his stomach at how hot this was. Moans finally left her lips and it was the most glorious of sounds. He squeezed her ass, wishing he could stay like this for an eternity.

He slipped his tongue inside her cunt and nearly wept when he felt her walls clench around the muscle. It was dirty and heavenly all at once. She reached back to tease his nipples, urging him on. He slurped and sucked on her clit, making sure to cherish every little moan and breath and clench she let out. It was the most erotic thing he'd ever witnessed. He wished he could see the look on her face when she came.

She was close, surprising herself at how quickly he managed to get her there. She buried her hand into his hair, riding his face just a little harder, chasing her high. She had never been this vocal in bed. He always brought out new experiences for her as well.

"I'm close, baby." He groaned into her pussy, hands urging her to go faster, to reach her orgasm. It only took a few more grinds of her hips for her to let go.

Then it was her juices, her taste and smell and sounds overwhelming all his senses. He lapped up every drop greedily, not wanting this moment to end. Her thighs closed around his head for a second but it was enough to have him almost reaching the end himself. He wouldn't do that though. Not again. Not without permission. This was about her. And God, was she incredible.

As the last of her shakes left her, she quickly pulled off of him, lowering herself down on his chest, eagerly checking on him. Her hands met his cheeks, his skin wet from her release and a big cheeky smile on his face when she met his eyes. He was so fucking high off of her coming in his mouth. The sexiest thing he'd ever experienced in his life.

"Thank you." Those were the first words that left him after he brought her to one of the most intense orgasms of her life. She wanted to curse at how pretty he looked all fucked out. The cheeky grin and the sparkling eyes driving her insane.

She hadn't let many people eat her out before, always focusing more on their pleasure, finding the act a bit too intimate for her liking. But damn if it didn't feel right with him. She could feel herself getting all soft and mushy inside, hoping he can't tell just how fucking smitten she was with him. She kissed him to hide her burning cheeks from his view, distracting them both, tasting herself on his tongue, swallowing up his moans, making them hers.

"If you're gonna reward me like that every time, I'm happy to do anal stuff any day now." She laughed at his words, running her fingers over his face gently, taking in the lovely moment of peace and contentment.

"You're telling me if I didn't let you eat me out, you wouldn't want me to fuck your ass?" He blushed at her words, letting her know just how much they affected him.

"No. I'd want it anyway." He was being honest and vulnerable, just like they talked about and it was doing funny things to her head.

"Thought so." She pretended to be serious for a moment but then let her guard down when she kissed all over his face again. His laugh made butterflies soar in her tummy. Fuck, if she didn't love that sound.

"I'm really glad you enjoyed it." She knew he had been apprehensive about trying anal play and she was honoured he trusted her enough to explore it with her for the first time.

"It was the best orgasm of my life." She chuckled and he looked at her so fondly she couldn't handle it.

"Nothing compared to how amazing it was having you ride my face, though." His cheeky smirk was back but she could hear the truth in his voice. He really did love eating her out. And she figured she'd let him to it more often since it was just so much fucking fun.

"You're a cheeky bastard, you know that?" He nuzzled into her skin, enjoying the playful banter they always ended up back in.

"Mhm. You like me, though." He kissed her shoulder, holding her that much closer, their naked bodies tangled together in the most wonderful mess of limbs.

"Sadly, I do. A frat guy, no less." He snorted a cute laugh and she couldn't help but laugh too.

"Luckiest frat guy in the world." His voice was so soft and he looked at her so fondly her breath caught in her throat.

He unhinged her. Every time she thought she finally stood on solid ground he went and said something sweet like that, honest like that, and shook her world to the ground again. The feelings that were bubbling inside her were way too serious and way to soon for her to entertain. So she did what she always did and shut him up with another kiss.

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