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hockey-for-hotties · 3 months ago

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opposites attract ⏐ l.hughes

pairings: luke hughes x afab!reader genre: fluff ⎜ strangers-to-lovers ⎜ he falls first ⎜college au ⎜slow burn? ⎜ warnings: mentions of a shitty old ex ⎜protective Luke ⎜ Sick Luke ⎜ not much tbh ⎜mentions of Luke naked but not in a sexual way synopsis: you're not quite sure what to make of the oversized golden retriever defence man, especially when he asks for your help to pass his upcoming exams. word count: 11.3k authors note: this took me a really long time to write and I was not expecting to enjoy writing it so much but I really did - so I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it. (UNEDITED)

You remember the first time you saw him. You had been locked up in the library for hours, your notebooks scattered around you, your pens all over the table, two highlighters had already made it into the bin, and your laptop was begging for a charger.

The library is quiet, it usually is around this hour - especially on a Friday night - just late enough that most students have given up and gone home to either finish their study or not do anything at all - but it was still early enough that it wouldn’t have you questioning all your life choices the next morning. The overhead fluorescents had been switched out for the small individual table lamps on each table - your usual table, the third from the back, right under the large window letting the soft moonlight in.

Your laptop flashes the red warning again, begging you to plug it in. You oblige letting out a soft groan as you heft your tote bag onto the table and begin digging around for the white chord, only pausing when movement in the corner of your eye catches your attention - the library was almost completely empty, bar a few students littered around the stacks of books who were definitely not studying if the soft breaths were anything to go by - so what was this lanky, clearly overgrown, drank too much milk as a child, obvious athlete doing in here - at nine pm no less, no one comes in here after eight.

You relax a little at the soft ‘bing’ of your laptop being plugged in, the warning disappearing instantly as you take in the new intruder. He was clearly an athlete, that wasn’t a secret, he was completely decked out in the u-mich sweats and shoes, the backpack slung over his shoulders looked heavy but it was clear that no one had used it since it was bought at the start of the year - the fabric looking almost coated with dust from sitting in a cupboard or under a bed for too long.

You watch him as he looks around the library, his eyes darting between the shelves widening as they spot the couple that had been there all night, half mounting each other and his cheeks glow a bright pink as he turns back to the table, his eyes locking on yours and a smile spreading on his face.

“Hey, you must be the tutor?” He says quickly as he shuffles over to your table, dropping his bag on the table with a loud bang, startling the librarian at the front desk, who just shakes her head and goes back to reading the ’90s romance she had been nursing for the past few hours.

“I’m sorry?” You ask slowly, watching as he pulls his notebooks out of his bag, each book looking newer than the last one, also clearly unused despite being three-quarters of the way into the year. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The athlete pauses for a moment, staring down at you with confusion before letting out a soft laugh.

“Ha, ha, very funny - I’m Luke, the guy that called you the other day, because of the flyer in the student athlete building.” He shakes his head as he laughs again, thinking your ‘antics’ were the funniest thing he’d seen all day. You continue to just watch as he settles into the seat across from you, your brow furrowed and your head cocked to the side as it all seems to click in his head. “You’re not the tutor.” He says quietly, almost completely to himself, his cheeks flushing back to the burning pink colour they were before.

“I’m not.” You confirm, trying to stop the upturn of your lips as you watch him flounder for a second, his eyes looking over your work spread across the table, and the way he had thrown his books over the top.

“I am so sorry — I shouldn’t have just assumed…” He starts as he tries to gather his stuff, the flush spreading down his neck as he fumbles, a few of his pens falling to the floor as he scrambles after them, “come to think of it I’m pretty sure I spoke to a dude.” He mumbles to himself as he places his pens back on the table, looking awkward as he bends over to pick up the rest.

“Luke?” You say quietly, wanting to stop the chaos happening in front of you as quickly as possible. His head perks up at his name, his blue eyes wide, his curls bouncing as he turns to face you.

“You know my name?”

“You did say it like five minutes ago.” You correct, clearing your throat before leaning further over the table to grab hold of his textbook. “You’re in 102 ECON?” You question, flipping through the book that looks like it was pulled from its packet a total of twenty minutes ago - the book unmarred by any obvious study. He nods in response to your question, managing to gather his fallen pens before sliding back into the seat across from you, “I can probably help you with this — what do you need the most help with?”

“Everything?” He lets out a chuckle as he raises a hand to scrub at the back of his neck — you shoot him a smile in sympathy before flicking the textbook to chapter one.

“You know that the ‘student’ comes first in student athlete, right?” You tease, watching the blush rise on the tips of his ears, enjoying the way he seems to get so flustered so easily.

“Wait, so you’ll help me?” He asks for clarification, his brows pinched in confusion. “I can pay you, the other guy wanted two hundred per session.” He says reaching into his bag and pulling out his wallet, not noticing your agape mouth at the number he threw out.

“Well he was severely overcharging.” You say, straightening your posture, as you scoot your chair around the table, sliding the textbook between the two of you as you scoot by his side, “I will take a drink or snack every time you come here though.”

“I can do that.” He agrees quickly, focusing his attention quickly on the textbook as you try to do a crash course in each chapter to see where he’s up to. It takes three hours, and the librarian coming to shut down your session before you have a good idea of where to start on the rest, Luke is by no means dumb and picking up most things pretty quickly, but he only remembers the basics of chapter one and you only have three weeks till his exam to get him through the next five chapters.

“I really appreciate you doing this for me.” He says softly as the two of you exit the library, your books bundled in your arms, his back in his brand new backpack with notes on what to read through before the next time you meet up.

“It’s fine, I have a soft spot for people in need.” You say, glancing down at your phone as it rings the last name you want to see lighting up the screen.

“Are you going to answer that?” He asks quickly, as you shove your phone back into your pocket.

“No.” You respond, already getting annoyed by the constant buzzing of the phone in your pocket, you begin to walk down the stairs of the library, your dorm only five minutes from the large building. “Remember, I want a hot chocolate on Wednesday.” You remind him, watching as he types it in his phone, before you begin walking back to your dorm, not looking back to notice the way he walks slowly behind you, his attention completely on his phone hoping you wouldn’t turn around to ask him why he was following you - maybe you would think his dorm was this way too - he follows you until he’s sure you reach your dorm building before he starts his own way home in the opposite direction.

Despite not expecting to hear from Luke again - your phone had almost been set ablaze by how often it was lighting up with text messages from him over the weekend — though you weren’t able to contain your surprise that he was actually continuing on with the work you had asked him to do before your next meet up.

Luke (library guy): read through chapter two! I’ve written all my questions so we can go through them on Wednesday.

Luke (library guy): Is there anyway we can meet up on Monday as well? My questions are at least two pages long.😫

Luke (library guy): things are getting out of hand…send help. 🙃 I’ve never studied this much in my life.

Luke (library guy): I know you’re reading these — if you’re going to ignore me at least try a little harder, or turn off your read receipts ☹️

You leave another message on read, as you tuck your phone back into your pocket - your headphones over your ears and a stack of marked quizzes tucked closely to your chest as you wander through the campus, making your way to the 102 ECON class you assist with — hoping to god it’s not the session Luke is in. To be completely honest, you had assumed that the second you had entered your dorm room after the night in the librar,y you’d be receiving a text from Luke asking to rain check — he was an athlete after all, they weren’t really known to stick to a schedule outside of their sport.

You glance up at the looming building in front of you, letting out a long sigh at the thought of suffering thorough yet another lecture you had already heard, and then getting stuck with all the questions from the upperclassmen who clearly thought this class would be an easy pass when they signed up for it two years ago. The freshmen were usually fine, barely asking questions, still going about their college lives without the pressure of impending failure — it was the juniors and seniors who were still stuck in the same class for the third - or fourth-year - in a row that tended to give you the biggest headaches.

You walk through the open classroom door, shoving your headphones off the top of your head until they sit comfortably on your neck, adjusting the quizzes in your arm before plopping them on top of the small second desk towards the front of the room. The classroom is half full when you arrive, the room buzzing with conversation and the occasional squeaking of someone taking a seat, you keep your head down as you arrange the quizzes before moving them to the professors desk — preparing to mentally disappear before anyone can ask you questions about the lesson for the day, until you hear it - the soft calling of your name.

“Pst, over here.” The first whispers of your name, seem to quiet most of the crowd, your body tensing as you glance up from the professors desk, it’s hard to miss Luke in his - what you think is typical - u mich hoodie, his curls bouncing against his head, seeming longer then they were last week when you last saw him, his hand raised in an enthusiastic wave. All dreams and hopes of Luke not being in this session are quickly sucked out the still open door, maybe you have a chance to make an escape?

“I didn’t know you were in this class.” Luke calls out, and as he’s sitting in the fifth row back, he really does “call” out to you. You can’t help the way your mouth falls open a little, your eyes darting around the class and the sudden attention on you, your eyes moving back over to Luke as his friend sitting besides him elbows him in the ribs, Luke’s hand falling down to hold his side, his gaze turning a glare on the boy sitting next to him.

“Dude, she’s not in the class, she’s the TA.” His friend scolds him in a very loud whisper, the grimace spreading across your face as you try to ignore the two of them.

“Well, how was I meant to know that?” Luke hisses back, his friend rolling his eyes and leaning back against his chair.

“Maybe if you’d been in class more than once a week, you would have known that.” You let out a long sigh as you sink into your chair besides the professors desk, sending the older gentleman a smile as he enters the room, thanking you as he picks up the quizzes from last week, and beginning to pass them out to the class, the flash of a D+ on Luke’s quiz flashing through your memory.

Luke (library guy): My kind, thoughtful, handsome and very single friend Ethan, has very gently brought it to my attention that I may have made you uncomfortable - for that I apologise.

You glance up when your phone buzzes on your desk, reading the message before glancing up towards the fifth row, seeing the two boys gathered around Luke’s phone, the message clearly thought of by the objectively good-looking man beside Luke, who shoots you what looks to be a genuinely apologetic smile. “It makes you seem smart.” You only just catch Ethan whispering to Luke, neither of them having much volume control now that the room is quieting down.

“No, it just makes you look like an idiot,” Luke replies, tucking the phone back into his pocket with a shake of his head, his eyes catching yours once more, the smile dropping off his face, as you look away, focusing yourself on sliding into your chair and reorganising your already organised desk. You don’t look up again throughout the lecture - you try not to anyway - keeping your eyes trained on your laptop in front of you, just barely listening to the lecture, and maybe occasionally sneaking a glance up at the fifth row, pleasantly surprised to see Luke very intently taking notes in his notebook - the one he had sent you photos of, covered in an increasingly more chaotic chicken scratch throughout the weekend.

You're halfway through your own sports psychology assignment when you hear the professor start wrapping up his lecture, deciding now is a better time than any to pack up your stuff and hope to make a quick escape once the class is done. Your laptop is only just in your bag when the professor draws all the attention back to you, “Now remember everyone has my email and the email of my wonderful TA this semester in their inbox, please let us know if you have any more questions, have a good week, everyone.” You curse quietly under your breath as you give the professor a tight-lipped grin, the kind old man none the wiser to the frustration deep in your soul at the idea of being the centre of attention once again.

You shove the last of your stuff into your tote bag, taking a quick glance at the class, glad to see Luke busy packing up his own bag as you beeline for the door, your exit seamless as you thread between the flood of students, just making it to the building exit as you hear him call out for you again, “Hey— wait.” Luke seems breathless as he reaches you, just as you push open the heavy glass doors, joining you in the chilly winter air, your arms crossing over your chest as you frown at the cold. “Are you just pretending I don’t exist now or what?” He asks, his long legs making it easy for him to keep up with your fast walking, his hands gripping the straps of his backpack, his knuckles turning white as he tightens his hold.

“I didn’t mean to embarrass you back there.” Luke starts, letting out another pant as his left hand releases its strap, grabbing hold of the shoulder of your coat, pulling you to a stop. “Give me a second, you walk really fast.” He says as he takes in a few big gulps of air. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you—” He starts again, another breath, “I was just excited to see you there, no wonder you knew so much about ECON.” He clarifies, his cheeks resuming their normal flush of pink, his gaze following yours to where his hand still holds onto your coat, his hand dropping like you burned him with a quick “oh, sorry.”

“You didn’t embarrass me, Luke.” You say softly, trying your hardest to shoot him a reassuring smile, as you straighten out the wrinkle in your coat. “I was just a little surprised that you were so eager to greet me.” You try to explain, Luke’s head nodding as he cringes, sucking in air between his teeth, before his face relaxes into its usual soft smile.

“I was a little loud wasn’t I?”

“I wouldn’t say discretion is a forte of yours.” You joke back, letting out a soft chuckle as he lifts his hand to rub the back of his neck, his teeth trapping his bottom lip as he seems to relax a little.

“So we’re still on for studying on Wednesday night?” He asks quickly, his hands returning to their place on the straps of his bag as you nod slowly.

“I don’t see why not.”

“Good, cause I didn’t understand anything the teacher said today.” You let out another soft laugh before promising him you’d go over it during your study session, Luke hovers for a moment not quite taking the hint that you’re conversation was over, you look up at him, an eyebrow raised as you wait for him to continue, seeing straight through him to the way his mind seemed to be running a hundred miles a minute.

“Ethan wrote that text.” He blurts, his face seeming almost shocked that the words came out, but your lips just tilt up in amusement.

“I figured. He was really selling himself there.”

“Well he’s not kind or thoughtful so don’t look too much into it.” Luke huffs, his body seeming to radiate frustration as he thinks back to the text message.

“Luke, don’t think so much, it’s not a good look on you.” You say quickly, reaching a hand out to gently squeeze his arm, watching as his frustration dissolves into shock, his eyes shooting down to where you had barely touched his hoodie. “I’ll see you on Wednesday.” He barely has a chance to react as you step away from him, tucking your tingling hand into your coat pocket before quickly rushing off to your next lecture, barely able to focus throughout your own lessons as your mind keeps floating back to the awkward athlete.

The library is quiet when you arrive — just how you like it — the cold from your walk here was seeping into your bones, the warmth of the library heater quickly fighting off your shivering as you shuck off your oversized jacket, and gloves slowly making your way back to your favourite table by the window - your feet pausing as you notice the mop of curly hair already taking residence at your table. He’s tucked behind a stack of textbooks, the pen in his hand messily scribbling against his paper as his tongue sticks out a little, his teeth biting into it.

Luke spots you quickly, his posture straightening straight away as he raises his hand to call out to you, but catches himself at the last minute, just giving you a soft wave and a quick smile, his long legs shoving out the chair opposite him in an offering. The sleeves of his - you guessed it - u-mich hoodie as shoved up to his elbows, you slide into the seat in front of him as you can’t help but blurt out, “Do you wear anything other than school merch?” You have to restrain yourself from slapping your hand across your mouth as you say it — the question coming out meaner than you intended, but Luke just laughs, a breathy chuckle as he shrugs.

“It’s comfortable.” He responds, watching closely as you pull out your laptop and worn down notebook from your tote bag — the same tote bag you used last time you were here, but not the same one you wore to class the other day — Luke notices, to be fair, Luke notices a lot about you.

He noticed the way you tried to make yourself unnoticeable — he notices the way you use a different tote bag for different things — he notices the way you always look angry around campus but whenever someone approaches you, your face breaks out into a soft smile — he notices the way you twirl your hair when you get nervous or stressed — Luke had always noticed you, not matter how hard you tried, but that was something he would ever want to admit out loud, that would mean he would have to admit to watching you, and that would be creepy.

“What have you been working on?” You ask as you slide his notebook towards you, glancing over his notes with an impressed smile, before frowning at his graph towards the bottom of the page.

“I reread chapters two and three and thought I was doing well until they suggested mapping out the whole supply and demand thing and… well, it didn’t turn out so well.” He explains, The graph makes a lot more sense to you as he explains, "To be honest, I think I blacked out halfway through so I’m not even sure what this is measuring.” He says sheepishly as he points to the far box on the graph.

“It’s messy—” You admit, sliding the book back towards him before flicking open your own notebook, “but you have the fundamentals down. This is from when I took 102 ECON in freshman year, use it as a guide, remember I’m marking your work so I’ll know if you cheated.” You say, pushing your own notebook towards him.

Luke’s eyes widen in surprise as he flicks through the note book, neat, colour coded, handwriting careful and in print - each point defined and highlighted with a precision he could only every dream of - not to mention it seems to hold to answer to every question he has ever had about ECON, “This is the shit those Pinterest aesthetic girls dream about.” Luke says in awe as he continues to flick through the pages.

You roll your eyes, but can’t help the small tingle down your spine at the praise, “Just be careful with it, it’s been through like four tutor students and has yet to succumb to one of them, and if you ruin it…” You trail off, hoping the threat would carry its own weight, but Luke seems entirely too distracted by what you said before.

“You’ve tutored other students?” He starts, a frown dropping on his face, his eyes glaring down at your notebook of perfection — good heavens, it even smells like you — “God, you think you're special and then she goes as says she’s done this with four other people.” Luke grumbles to himself, his hand harshly flicking the book back towards you as he crosses his arms over his chest — “and to think I got you extra marshmallows in your hot chocolate.” You glance down at the book and shrug, lifting your hands to reach for it, but Luke is faster, his hand slapping down on it and dragging it back to himself.

“On second thought, your apology can be letting me keep this for the rest of the semester.” He seems pleased by his decision as he pushes a take away cup closer to you, tucking your note book under his own before going back to what he was doing before your arrived, occasionally lifting his head to ask a question about his work, before deciding better of it and referring to your notebook — which does in fact have the answer, every time.

It’s three hours later, when the library closure announcement rings overhead - your head snapping up in surprise, Luke lets out a long yawn stretching his arms over his head, his hoodie riding up ever so slightly the peak of pale skin enough to make your cheeks flush a little, you had still yet to figure out what sport Luke plays, but the defined ridges of his abdomen was a clear sign you were right to assume he was an athlete.

“I suppose it’s time I walk you home then.” Luke lets out through another yawn, already shoving his books in his bag, carefully sliding your notebook into the laptop pocket in the back, safely tucking it behind the cool metal of his MacBook.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that.” You exclaim quickly, following his lead and tucking your own books away.

“Yes I do.” He affirms, “It’s cold and dark out there and you are tiny, it would be all too easy for someone to grab you on their way past.”

“I’m not tiny — I’m of average stature, thank you very much.” You hiss, shooting him a very half hearted glare as you zip up your tote bag, pulling on your coat, as you watch Luke peel his off the back of his chair, he pulls his backpack on, and hangs his letterman jacket over his arm — Football then — you assume, the stereotypical image of a jock racing through your head, but Luke didn’t quite fit that, he was too… awkward.

“Just let me walk you home.” He grunts, his hand lightly pushing yours out of the way as he pulls your tote bag off the chair, swinging it over his own shoulder before leading the way out. You both bid goodbye to the librarian who waits, annoyed by the front door, not being able to leave until you do. The cold winter air hits you like a slap in the face, your arms quickly curling around yourself as you tuck your face into the collar of your coat, your breath letting out hot puffs of air.

Luke shuffles next to you for a moment, barely in your peripherals before a heavy fabric is draped over your shoulders, the navy blue jacket practically swallowing you whole, as he makes sure its tucked tightly over your shoulders — the fabric smells like him and is so soft against your cheeks as you burrow into it a little before realising what you’re doing.

“Luke, it’s freezing out here; you should be wearing your jacket.” You quickly spit out, rushing to slip the jacket off your shoulders and hand it back to him, but he shakes his head, his hands readjusting the heavy coat until he’s pleased it won’t slip straight back off.

“I’m used to the cold,” He says quickly, though his pink cheeks and nose are telling a slightly different story, “Besides, it looks better on you anyway.” He steps away from you a little, clearing his throat as he leads the way to your building, the question already bubbling in your mind as the two of your reach your dorm entrance.

“You know where I live?” You ask quickly, your head tilted to the side, your eyes accusing as Luke sputters to think of an answer.

“Apparently.” Is the best he can think of, his face scrunching in a grimace at his own response, but you just let out a guff of laughter. “I may have wandered back this way on Friday night to make sure you got home safe.” He admits, and you can’t fight the way your stomach flutters a little, an unreasonable response to him admitting he essentially stalked you the night after you tutored him.

“Oh.” You say.

“Oh.” He mimics the two of you standing on the front steps in silence for a few moments, before Luke clears his throat again, “Um, the guys and I are throwing a little get-together this Friday, I was wondering if you wanted to come?” His eyebrows are pinched as he asks the question, almost like he’s waiting for you to flat out refuse as soon as it leaves his mouth, “You don’t have to, I just thought I’d offer—”

“I’ll come.” You say quickly, cutting off what you assume is going to be another ramble, another flutter in the pit of your stomach at the way his face immediately lights up.

“Oh, cool.” He says, slipping his hands into his pockets, trying to remain calm as he nods to himself a few times, “It’s just at the hockey house a few streets over, I’ll text you the address.” He says quickly, the start of his sentence sticking out to you — hockey? guess there’s no more need to wonder. You nod quickly, taking your offered tote back from Luke and reaching in to fish for your keys, glancing up as Luke takes a few backward steps away, his head nodding for you to go inside.

“Luke, wait, your jacket.” You call out as he takes a few more steps away, a pleased smile on his lips as he looks over his coat still draped over your shoulder, he just shrugs his shoulders, moving further down the pathway, not giving you the chance to bring it to him before he says,

“Guess you’re gonna have to give it back to me on Friday.”

That sneaky little shit, this is his guarantee you’ll show up to the “get together” he knows you’ll never be able to wait to give his jacket back.

Fuck, you’ve never been to a “get together” — especially at a hockey house.

You’ve changed your outfit three times in the last twenty minutes — first it was a sweater and jeans, cause it's cold out there and you want to try without looking like you’re trying, you know? But what if everyone else was trying, then you’d just look stupid — so next was the tight top and small skirt, cause as a Disney princess once said, the cold never bothered me anyway, but the cold does in fact bother you so it was a very quick veto — and here you are with your third outfit, the tight top from the second outfit and the flared jeans from the first all surrounded by the thick navy letterman jacket that to be completely honest you had barely taken off since Luke let you borrow it.

You spare yourself one more glance in the mirror as you tug you hair into a claw clip, the overstimulation from it brushing against the back of your neck already too much to bare, the top fits well and does wonders for your chest, the jeans make your legs look longer and Luke’s jacket swallows your whole in the best way possible — it’s comforting in a way and somehow gives you just enough courage to pull your purse over your shoulder and shuffle your way out of the dorm.

You phone buzzes softly in your hand, the message from Luke lighting up the screen.

Luke (library guy): The party is in full swing. 🙃

Luke (library guy): No rush though, let me know when you’re on your way, or close and I’ll come out and greet you like a good host. ☺️

Luke (library guy): or I can meet you on the corner?

Luke (library guy): or halfway?

Luke (library guy): just text me, please.

You can’t help the way your lips tilt upwards in a smile as you read the messages, at the way Luke seems to have no concern over double texts or his overuse of the same three emoji’s despite what the contents of the messages say, you’re about halfway to the hockey house when you decide to put him out of his misery and text him back.

Library Girl: I’m just about to reach the corner of your street.

Luke (library guy): okay, be there in a sec.

Luke (library guy) has changed your nickname to ‘bestie boo 👻’

bestie boo 👻 : oh we’re changing nicknames are we?

bestie boo 👻 has changed Luke (library guy) nickname to ‘tall and lanky’

tall and lanky has changed their nickname to ‘favourite student 📚’

favourite student 📚: don’t test me bestie boo, I can promise you I’ll win this one.

You let out a breath of laughter as you tuck your phone back into your pocket, the tall and lanky figure making a slow jog down the street, catching your attention, your mouth falling open a little in surprise at Luke actually making his way to meet you on the corner of his street.

“I thought you were joking.” You call out as you speed up your steps to reach him at the corner, his eyes dragging down your body as you stop in front of him, his eyebrows pulled up in surprise as his gaze catches on his jacket encompassing your torso.

“I never joke.” Luke says, his face as serious as he can manage, — though the small twitch at the corner of his lip is a good hint that he is in fact joking — as his hand reaches out to pinch the hem of his jacket, “you’re wearing it?”

“Am I not allowed to? It’s warm.” You respond, the street lamps the only thing illuminating either of you, the only thing showing the way. Luke’s expression melts at your words, his head nodding slowly, his lips moving, though no words come out.

“It really does look better on you.” He says softly, finally stepping away from the building suffocation between the two of you, moving his hands to gesture that the two of you continue the walk down the street to the lit-up hockey house in the centre, the loud bass of music already tickling your ears. You fall into step beside him, the two of you making your way down the pavement in almost silence, Luke seeming stuck in his own thoughts, his knuckles brushing against yours with every swing of his hand — a part of you wondering if maybe he’s doing it on purpose.

If a part of him wants to hold your hand as much as you want to hold his.

The two of you make it to the house without much said between the two of you, the music overwhelming as a cheer of Luke’s name choruses over the crowd on the front porch, his hand raising in a quick wave of greeting before dropping and finding the small of your back as he leans down towards you.

“It’s pretty loud, are you going to be okay?” His question and concern make you falter a little, your mouth gaping as you think of something to say, the question of how much he’s noticed about you rising to the surface; “I don’t want to assume, but you don’t seem like the type of person to enjoy chaos.” He whispers, his hand a firm pressure on the small of our back as he leads you up the front porch steps.

“I’ll be fine.” You manage to squeak out, the skin underneath the layers of clothes burning wherever his hand touches — more calls of his name chorus as he swings open the front door, sticking close beside you as he greets people in passing, leading you towards the makeshift bar in the kitchen. The warmth of the house makes you instantly sweat under the weight of Luke’s jacket, the house filled with boisterous and already drunk college students, furniture pushed out of the way to make a haphazard dance floor and people crowded around each other as the air is drenched in the smell of mingling cologne and perfume, but all you can smell is Luke.

“Do you drink?” Luke asks softly as you reach the kitchen, his hand pulling away from your back hesitantly as he pulls two red solo cups off the pile, waiting for your response before pouring in any liquids.

“Uh, not really.” You respond, watching as Luke nods, pulling a unopened bottle of coke from the ice box, filling both his and your cups with it before tucking it away again — you manage to shake off the jacket which is now making you overheat with the swell of warmth from the house, tucking it over your arm as you gratefully accept the drink Luke offers. “It’s really hot in here.” You explain, but Luke’s eyes are unfocused, darting over your body, landing on your collarbones before he shakes his head and moves them back up to meet yours.

“You look real—” Luke is interrupted by a cheering of his name over by the dining table, riddled with half-filled solo cups, his teammates begging him to come join them. You watch as he goes to deny them at first, pointing to you with an apologetic look, but they’re relentless as they keep waving for him to join.

“Go play.” You say quickly, cradling your red cup in both hands as you nod towards the table, “I’ll watch.” You say as you step towards the group of hockey players gathered around the table, Luke looks at them before back at you for reassurance, the soft nod of your head enough as he slowly joins his friends, who all let out hoots of excitement as he reaches the table.

Luke is different here - you watch him play beer pong for over an hour, he introduces you to people as he goes, but his demeanour has changed completely, he’s confident here, at home. He’s not the same Luke that you see slouched over his ECON textbook most afternoons, stressing over his graphs and blushing when you compliment his understanding of what he just read; this is him in his element. He knows everyone, and you mean everyone. He knows their names, their stories, and asks them about random things going on in their lives before moving on to the next person. Everyone here loves him, and you can’t help the pressure building in your chest at the joy of being able to see him like this.

Luke never strays far, only leaving your side for a moment to throw the ping pong ball before he’s back besides you, his arm rubbing against yours, he interacts with everyone, welcomes them with a hug or handshake but yet he never leaves you alone for long, occasionally bending down to your ear to make sure you don’t need anything before taking his next turn.

It’s almost too much, his attention, his focus on you constantly — you feel like you can’t breathe but it’s not a bad feeling.

You’re halfway through a conversation with Ethan, one of the defensemen who plays with Luke ,when a voice calls out across the room, a voice you hadn’t expected to hear, especially not today.

“Hey, never expected to see little Miss Perfect at a frat party.” The voice is so close now, enough that you can feel the shiver run down your spine - the breaking of goosebumps along your skin. Ethan seems to notice something is up, his gaze looking over your head before he moves to nudge Luke with his elbow, bringing his attention to the man now loitering against the wall beside you.

“Kyle?” You question slowly as you turn to face him, knowing the only way to get rid of his attention was to give him some of yours first. “What are you doing here?” You ask quickly, your grip tightening around your almost empty cup of Coke as you shift your weight on your feet.

“A friend invited me.” You ex says like you had asked the most ridiculous question he had every heard, the answer coming out with a soft scoff.

“No, I mean over here? Why’d you come over here?” You clarify, the music of the room fading away as your breathing becomes more shallow — you hadn’t seen Kyle since you walked in on him and roommate, together, in your bed, on valentines day last year — and his ‘it’s not me, its you’ had repeated on your mind for weeks after.

“I thought we should talk.” He says casually, taking a long gulp of his beer as he moves a little closer, his body almost sandwiching you against the wall besides you - his grin downright gross as he looks you up and down, “I’ve missed you, you know.”

“Well, I don’t really want to talk to you.” You say quickly, trying to force yourself a step away, not wanting to be stuck against the wall with no way out. Kyle had never been violent with you, but he had other ways of causing harm; his words tended to cut deeper than any knife.

“Why? You’re too good for me now?” He questions, his eyes catching on Luke’s jacket still hanging over your arm, his eyes lighting with a fire that usually meant bad things, “You think now that you’ve found yourself a stupid hockey boyfriend, you’re better than me? You can do better than me?” His body is closing in now, the air being sucked away from you as your chest tightens, your hands gripping onto the fabric of Luke’s jacket for dear life as you try again, to skirt around your ex boyfriend.

“She can do better than you.” Luke’s voice is gravely, his large hand gripping your hip as he pulls you back against him, his breaths coming out heavy as he keeps your body pressed against his, “She dropped her standards majorly to be with someone like you, you should be thanking her for giving you the time of day.” Luke huffs, his tone almost seeming bored, but you can almost feel the steam rolling off him as he stares down your ex-boyfriend, his thumbs rubbing softly against the harsh fabric of your jeans.

You can feel everything — too much of everything as Kyle rolls his eyes, giving Luke a long once over before draining his beer and throwing the empty cup towards you, Luke quickly batting it away as he motions to one of the boys at the other end of the table, who make quick work of “politely” escorting your ex boyfriend from the house.

“Hey, let’s go get some air.” His voice is soft as he whispers in your ear, both hands on your hips as he steers you towards the back door, both of ignoring the glances from his teammates — the backyard is almost completely empty as he slides open the back door, quickly grabbing the jacket from your arm as draping it over you before sliding the door closed behind the two of you, moving to lean against the balcony railing, waiting patiently for you to come join him.

“An ex, I assume?” He says as you join him against the railing, your head nodding as you lean forwards, letting his jacket swallow you up, the warm material helping your shoulders relax back down to their resting position. “Is he the one who was blowing up your phone the other day at the library?” Luke asks, and you just nod, not entirely sure what to say or how to say it.

Luke lets out a long groan, rubbing his hands down his face as he shakes the tension out of his body, a grin replacing the deep frown on his face, “He seems like a major dick, I’m sorry he made you uncomfortable.”

“You shouldn’t be the one apologising.” Luke just lets out a soft laugh, running his fingers through the curled ends of his hair, pushing them away from his face as he pushes away from the railing, moving to box you against it — the position so similar to the one you were stuck in before, but feels so, so different.

“I don’t like fighting…” Luke points out quietly, almost like he doesn’t want anyone else to hear what he just said, “But I’d fight someone for you, especially if they made you look the way you did back there.” Your breath catches a little as you catch your bottom lip between your teeth, the sparks between the two of you igniting against your skin.

“I don’t know if I made it clear enough earlier, but you look really pretty tonight.” He whispers, the instant panic running across his face as he realises what he said, “Not that you don’t always look pretty, but you look especi— you know what, forget I said anything.” There’s something about the way he says it, about the way that you can see your Luke coming back to the surface that makes you smile, taking a step into his body — a step that seems to confuse him, panic him almost.

“You’ve already said it, Luke, you can’t take it back now.” You mumble, your hands hanging by your sides as you wait for him to make the first move, but he’s stuck; he doesn’t move from his spot, just watching you. “Tell me what you’re thinking, Luke.”

“What am I thinking?” You nod at his question, tilting your head to the side as you wait patiently for his brain to catch up, “I’m think that I’ve wanted to kiss you since I saw you tonight, I’m thinking that I wish you never came here and we were bundled up in the library so I can have you all to myself.” You barely register the rise in your heart rate as you let out a shaky breath.

“Now ask me.”

“Ask you what?”

“Ask me what I’m thinking.” Luke seems to freeze, his whole body tensing up as he keeps his eyes locked with yours.

“What are you thinking?” He finally manages to get out, his breathing shallow as he waits for you to respond, his eyes darting between your own, the red rising up the back of his neck as he waits.

“I’m thinking that I’ve wanted you to kiss me since you gave me your jacket the other day.” You watch Luke’s eyes widen, his eyebrows rising in surprise. Luke doesn’t waste time responding — he just moves.

One moment your looking up at him, your expression of surprise mirroring his — you can’t believe you just said that, just admitted you want him to kiss you — and the next his lips are on yours, his hands bunching in his own jacket still wrapped around you, pulling you tighter against him as his mouth finds yours, warm and certain, something about it so slow and gentle, the kiss just barely registering in your brain before your hands are smoothing up his chest, bundling in the collar of his hoodie.

This kiss is nothing like any other party kiss — it’s not rushed or messy, not worried about someone rounding the corner to find you — it’s slow, almost rehearsed as if Luke had been imagining this for as long as you had, as if he was taking his time with you. Luke kisses you with the attention he puts into everything else — his whole focus, everything he has, is going into this one moment, this one sensation.

His hands leave your jacket to softly cradle your jaw, his head tilting as he deepens the kiss, pulling a soft gasp from you as you raise on your tiptoes to push yourself closer to him. You can feel his lips break out into a grin as he pulls away, his eyes sparking with excitement as he rubs his thumbs against your cheeks.

“I should take you home.” He says softly, his pupils blown out a little as the sound of the music and chatter from the house come back into focus, the reality of where you are sinks back in, “I mean, I should walk you home.” He corrects himself again, his ability to try to put his foot in his mouth still shining even now.

“You should.” You agree, hesitantly detangling your hands from his hoodie, cleaning your throat as you lower yourself off your toes and straighten out the jacket over your shoulders. Luke just smiles as he watches you, waiting till you feel ready before reaching out his large hand towards you, his smile growing as you slide your palm against his.

Luke was meant to be here two hours ago — and before you go on about how no one should wait around for two hours when getting stood up, this was different—different how, you’re not entirely sure, but something felt off. It had been three weeks of tutoring Luke, and not once was he late without notice, and he never, ever was a no show, even that one time he had stacked it in the courtyard on the way over here, he still showed up with blood running down his knee.

This was weird, something was wrong.

You glance down at your phone again, expecting it to light up with a message of apology but nothing — Luke was many things, a terrible liar, easily flustered, a cocky little shit when he was winning at any game the two of you played, but flakey was not one of them. The panic starts to set in — what if he was hurt? What if something happened at practice and he was too injured to let you know? The panic takes quick hold, your belongings shoved haphazardly into your u-mich tote, which Luke had gifted you a week ago, claiming ‘you needed something to show school spirit’ and tug your coat on before dashing from the library — well as fast as you can in an almost blizzard.

There a mix of every emotion running through you, anger that he stood you up for two hours with no notice, concern that he stood you up for two hours with no notice and back to anger, you’re all but ready to give him a verbal lashing when you reach the front porch of the hockey house, slamming your fist into the door a few times before stepping back to cross your arms over your chest, needing the physical boundary to keep the anger inside of you.

You mouth opens to say something as the front door is pulled open — Ethan, one of Luke’s friends stands there looking confused before there’s a lightbulb moment and he’s calling out into the dark house, “Lukey, your girlfriend is here, and she looks pissed.”

There’s a soft shuffling behind the door as you start to say “I’m not his girl—” but the words die in your throat as Luke comes into view.

He looks like shit.

His sweat-drenched hair is pushed back on his head with a white sweat band, and his body is cloaked in a severely oversized tracksuit, his eyes a bloodshot red, skin pale and clammy, and his chest rattling with a wet cough. “Shit.” You mumble as you do a second once over before stepping forward and into the doorway, ushering him back before you slam the front door closed behind you.

“Fuck, I forgot about the study session.” Luke curses, his voice barely coming out as anything more than a croak as he winces. “I’m so sorry, I was only supposed to nap for like five minutes — that was four hours ago.” He says quickly, his eyes still droopy, probably only just having woken up from his ‘nap’.

“You look really bad, Luke.” You whisper as you step forwards reaching up to press your cold hand against his forehead, the heat radiating off him enough to boil a pot of water - Luke lets out an appreciative sigh as he leans further against your hand, a delirious smile on his face.

“Does this feel good to you, too? Or is it just me?” He whines when you pull your hand away, “Don’t leave, you just got here.” He continues to complain when you take your coat and bag off by the door, tugging your large bottle of water out of the bag before turning back to him.

“Have you had any water today? Or showered?” You question, your only response a soft shake of his head and a grimace.

“The doctor said it was just a chest infection, he gave me some antibiotics.” Luke explains and you nod, looking over to his friends perched on the couch, who confirm his answer and throw you the box of pills, which thankfully look like Luke has been taking the recommended doses.

“Where’s your room? We should get you cleaned up.” You ask, watching as Luke’s eyebrows raise in surprise.

“I don’t think it’s an appropriate time to be inviting yourself to my room.” He starts, a cheeky grin spreading on his face as he leans down, swaying a little at the movement, “If you haven’t noticed, I’m not feeling very well.” You roll your eyes and slap at Luke’s chest as he stands back up, letting out a chesty laugh which immediately turns into a crackling cough.

“Don’t be delusional — lead the way.” You hiss, keeping your hands ready to catch him if he decides to tumble to his death as he makes the slow trek up the stairs to the second floor. “Oh, thank god you have a bathroom in here.” You say as he swings open his door, the ensuite bringing some relief as you walk around him to take in the large shower.

His room is a mess, clothes and books strewn on every surface, his bed looking like he’s been rotting in it for weeks, and the number of tissue boxes he’s been hoarding by his window is a tell-tale sign of how long he’s been feeling unwell. “Okay, do you think you can stand long enough for a quick shower?” You ask, and he immediately shakes his head.

“I tried two nights ago, and almost passed out.” He admits, leaning down to sniff his own armpit before pulling back with a wince, “I’ve been using baby wipes instead.” He continues, wishing to god you are just a figment of his imagination and not actually here, seeing the state he’s in.

“Would you sit in the shower while I clean up?” You ask quickly, “The steam will be good for your chest, and I promise I won’t look below your shoulders.” If Luke’s eyes were wide before, they are full-grown saucers now — if he tried to widen them anymore, they would pop out of his head.

“You want to see me naked?”

“No, I want you to get naked so we can get you clean, there's a difference.” You snort as you start to pile his used tissues into the waste bin in the corner — Luke still perched on the end of his bed, looking more confused than ever.

“So you don’t want to see me naked?”

“Maybe another day, now take your clothes off while I start the water.” You respond, leaving Luke whispering to himself on the bed.

“I’ve never been so confused in my life.” He grumbles as you walk back into the room, but he’s kindly stripping off his sweat-soaked clothes, and you fight to keep your eyes on his face, refusing to steal his dignity as you reach your hands out for him to take. The second he’s under the water, he lets out a sigh of relief, and you watch as he leans against the wall, slowly sliding down till he’s happily sitting on the floor under the warm stream of water.

“I’ll be right back.” You promise, as his head lulls a little to the side, the effort of making it all the way upstairs and into the shower is taking its toll. You quietly fuss around his room, making it somewhat presentable before stripping his bed, finding clean sheets in the walk-in closet off to the side of the bathroom, as well as some reasonably clean boxers and a well-worn t-shirt. There aren’t many towel options as you search the ones scattered along the floor, finally finding two that smell more of fabric softener then death — which will have to do — as you walk back into the bathroom and plop your findings on the counter before stripping off your jeans and making sure your hair is pulled away from your face, you pause at the sight of Luke, still on the bathroom floor, steam wrapping around him, his head tipped back against the cold tiles and water streaming over his reddening skin. His eyes are squeezed shut, and his mouth is slightly open in content; he looks almost peaceful.

“Scoot over, I want to wash your hair.” You say gently as you step into the shower, your t-shirt already getting wet as you grab his shampoo and conditioner off the shelf, before placing yourself next to him on the floor. His head shoots up as he looks over at you, but your expression must give no room for debate as he nods, pushing himself away from the wall, turning his back towards you as he scrunches his knees to his chest.

“I think I’m dreaming.” He mumbles as you squirt a little bit of shampoo onto your palm, rubbing it between your two hands before threading your fingers into his hair. Luke melts — there’s no other way to describe it — his body almost immediately relaxing against you, his whole body weight leaning back against you as you scrub the shampoo into his hair, taking the time to really detangle his mess of curls.

“Why do you think that?” You ask, as you grab the shower head and rinse out the soapy mixture before reaching for his conditioner, squeezing a generous amount on your hand before slowly running it through the ends of his hair, looping the softening curls around your fingers before letting them bounce back against his scalp.

“Because when else would I have a pretty girl sacrificing her clothes to wash my hair when I’m sick.” He explains, his eyes shutting again as you massage his scalp, his head leans further back, almost landing on your shoulder as he lets out another long sigh. “You smell so good, like you always smell amazing — like apples and home.” His words are getting sloppier, his body somehow getting heavier as you decide now is a good time to rinse out his hair and get him out of the shower.

“I’m gonna steal some of your clothes, do you think you can manage washing your body?” You ask as you stand handing him a loofa covered in soap as he nods in determination, watching longingly as you grab a towel off his counter before leaving the bathroom, digging through his cupboard for a T-shirt and some shorts to borrow.

Luke is out of the shower and pulling on his t-shirt when you walk back into the bathroom, a little of his colour already returning to his face as he pushes his wet hair back from his face. “You didn’t need to do all of this, you know.”

“Someone had to.” You say with a soft shrug, trying to keep your expression relaxed as you glance over to his fresh bed and hold your towel out to him, “Want me to dry your hair?” Luke is never one to turn down an offer to have you fuss over him; he thinks it’s becoming one of his new favourite things. You perch yourself against his headboard, patting the open space between your legs. Luke wasted no time in climbing onto the bed and lying himself between your legs, a shaky groan leaving him as you start to use the towel to dry his hair, your fingers continuing to work their magic on him.

“You know how you said you might want to see me naked another day?” The question is out of Luke’s mouth before he can second-guess it, maybe it’s the antibiotics, but a part of him has lost any and all filter he may have possessed before this moment. You let out a long groan as Luke continues, “I think I want there to be another day, like lots of another days — as many as you’ll give me, I can even keep pretending to understand ECON if it pleases you.”

“Luke, you don’t have to pretend to do anything to please me.” Your words a gentle, followed by a smile he can picture on your face, “You're pleasing me right now by being clean and mildly coherent.”

“Do you think we can have another days?” Luke’s question is so genuine and raw that it sucks all the air out of your lungs, your heart slamming so hard against your chest you’re sure he can hear it.

“We can have another days once you’re better.” You agree slowly, but you know before you check that he’s already asleep, his face pressed into your thigh, his arm wrapped around your calf, his body spent from the shower. His skin is still simmering with a fever as you continue to run your fingers through his hair, massaging the base of his neck as he lets out an annoyed whine anytime you try to slip out from under him.

“Just stay, please.” He whispers as he settles further into your lap — so you do. You stay until your legs are numb and you beg him, quietly, to let you lie down on his mattress next to him, he obliges, his arm wrapping over your waist and pulling your tightly against him, his fever keeping you warm despite the fan blowing the winter chill over the two of you.

You manage to sneak out the next morning as the sun shines through his half-opened curtains, Luke only waking momentarily to take his medicine before slumping back against his mattress.

“Get some more rest, I’ll text you later.” You whisper as you pull on your now dry clothes, briefly crouching beside the bed to push some hair off his forehead and check for his lightning fever. “I think we’re going to have lots of another days.” You whisper as his breathing slows, his body falling back to sleep, and you lean forward to press a soft kiss against his forehead before sneaking out of the hockey house and back to your own dorm.

Finals week hits the two of you like a freight train — the only time you and Luke actually get to see each other is during one of the rare study sessions you manage to slip into your schedule. You barely have time to eat or sleep, but you keep managing to find time to check on Luke’s progress and make sure you answer any questions he might have before his exam. You just can’t manage to stop thinking about the boy who only a few days ago was lulled into a feverish sleep in your lap, whom you promised “another days” to.

It’s in the middle of your final exam review with Luke that he seems to crumble any resolve you had left, his voice barely above a whisper as the clock ticks to ten pm, the two of you barely able to read your notes anymore, your third coffee of the night sitting next to you on the table.

“You really are something special.”

“What?” Your pen drops to your notebook as you raise your head to glance over at him.

“I just need to put it out there, everything you’ve done—” he pauses, “Everything you’ve done and are still doing for me, it takes a special person to be able to do all this.” He corrects himself, his eyes boring holes into yours as you feel everything inside you crumble — if you had any tears left in you from the hell that is finals week, you would have cried at the proclamation.

You really are something special.

It plays in your head on repeat for the rest of the week, his tone soft and sweet every time you hear it run through your head again. He was too sincere, too honest, too open — and now you’ll never be able to stop thinking about him, be able to shake the fact that you think a part of you thinks of Luke as more than just a friend, just a fellow student you’re helping pass his exams.

Everything is getting too real now.

It’s a week later when the message wakes you up.

favourite student 📚: can you meet me at the library? I have something for you.

It takes you a few times to read and comprehend the message, your brain no longer functioning well at eight in the morning since the semester ended, and you barely have enough brain power to figure out he means now. You roll out of your bed, tugging on the large hoodie you had stolen from Luke a few nights ago - not that he seemed to care - and slip your feet into shoes before your bursting out of your dorm room and to the front entrance, almost running straight into a broad shoulder, lanky hockey player.

He manages to hold out a hand to catch your arm as you skid to a stop in front of him, eyebrows pinched in confusion. “I thought you told me to meet you at the library?” You ask quickly, not second-guessing the hot chocolate he hands you, taking a long swig of it before he shrugs.

“I couldn’t wait for you to get there.” He says quickly, reaching out to pull your drink from your hand, placing it beside his on the ground before he reaches into his pocket and fishes out his phone, typing on it quickly before beaming down at the glowing screen and turning it to face you.

89%

102 ECON final exam - 89%

He passed.

Luke Hughes, finally passed 102 ECON.

“I told you, you were something special.” He says with a grin that could rival the gods, your body practically vibrating with excitement as you throw yourself forward and into his arms, your own looping around his neck as you let out a high pitched squeal.

“You did it, Luke.” You coo as his arms encompass you, a breathy laugh echoing in your ear as he sways you back and forth, his own excitement buzzing. “This was all you, Luke — I’m so proud of you.” Luke barely gives you a chance to pull your head back before his mouth is on yours - his fingers digging into your back as he holds you tight against him.

This kiss is different to the one at the party, it’s quick and heated and filled with every emotion Luke can think of pouring into it, your breaths coming out ragged as he pulls away from you a little, his forehead resting against yours as he lets out another laugh.

“I really couldn’t have done it without you.” He says softly, like this is a secret between only the two of you, like the world doesn’t deserve to know what’s happening in this moment. The whole world has gone quiet, waiting to see what will happen next, as you stretch your neck to press a gentle kiss against his cheek.

“I think I was just an excuse.” You say quietly, your smile rivalling his, “You had it in you the whole time, Luke, you just needed a little help brining it out.”

“Still, I really needed y—” He pauses for a moment, thinking his words through carefully before correcting himself, “I really needed and still need you, if you plan on hanging around?”

“I’m sure I can fit you into my schedule. I’m a pretty busy girl.” You can’t help the hammering of your heart as he slowly places you back on the ground, his smile — a smile you hope is only ever reserved for you—spreading across his face as he nods.

“I’ll take what I can get.”

#nhl #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #nhl x reader #luke hughes #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes fanfic #luke hughes smut #luke hughes fluff

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mafiadad5 · 20 days ago

Text

Teach me to not love || L. HC (part 1)

𐙚 fuckboy!haechan x fem!reader (ft. best friend jaemin)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

𐙚 synopsis- Jaemin’s out for revenge after Haechan slept with the girl he liked. You’re just supposed to be a distraction, something pretty to keep Haechan’s mind off of what Jaemin was doing. He’s cute, addictive— you should stay away… you really should, but when he touches you like that how are you supposed to remember what’s right?

𐙚 genre- college au, smut/ porn with plot (MDNI 18+), angst, slight fluff.

𐙚 warnings- drug use, alcohol use, sex under the influence, lost of virginity, protected sex, oral (fem receiving), marking, praising, sorta rough sex, arguing, slight sexual Jaemin moment, mention of death.

𐙚 W/c- 14k

Now playing: House of balloons/ Glass table girls- The Weeknd

a/n- hi guys! I really wanted to post this all in one part, but tumblr had other plans loll. I’ve poured months (and a few breakdowns T.T) into this, so I really hope you enjoy it! let me know if you want to be tagged in the next part, and I’d love to hear what you think <3

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It was a typical Thursday night— your desk lamp casted a soft glow over your notes as you flipped through flashcards for your biology test. You were focused, head down as you muttered terms under your breath, determined to cram as much into your brain as humanly possible before crashing, then came the voice.

"Oh, Y/n!!!"

Your door flew open with no hesitation. You didn't even have time to respond before Jaemin strolled in like he owned the place, grinning from ear to ear.

"What the fuck." You muttered under your breath, barely looking up as he waltzed in and flopped himself onto your bed.

"Jaemin, what are you doing here— how did you even get in?" You asked, spinning in your chair with a look of disapproval stretched across your face.

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Your hot roommate let me in."

You raised a brow. "The one who has a crush on you?"

"The one I may fuck." He said with a grin as he stretched out, hands behind his head, settling in like he had no plans of leaving anytime soon.

"Ok, yuck. Didn't you literally fuck the other one?" You said flatly, turning back to your desk, scooping up your stack of color coded flashcards with a sigh. "Seriously though, what are you doing here? I told you I'm locking in tonight."

"You lock in every night." He said, dragging out a dramatic sigh.

"And that's why our intelligence levels are not in the same bracket." You joked, a small smirk appearing on your lips, even though your eyes stayed focused on the pile in front of you.

"So you don't love me, I guess?" He asked, his voice tilting into that overly dramatic tone you knew too well.

"Exactly." You said, spinning around to face him again.

"Wow... so cold. After ten years of friendship, this is how I'm treated? Unrequited love, what a tragedy." He said, clutching his chest, face twisted in fake agony.

"I love you, Jaemin. I've loved you since we were nine. You're my best friend ever. There, happy now?" You said deadpan, raising an eyebrow.

He froze for a second, then grinned slowly. "Wow... so you really love me? Like, really love me? You'd do anything for me, because you're so in love with me, right?"

You narrowed your eyes immediately. You knew that tone, it was the 'I need something' voice.

"What do you want Jaemin?" You sighed, already regretting humoring him.

"Ugh, you know me too well. Ok, hear me out." He said sitting up now, a bright smile spreading across his face. "I need a favor. A small one— tiny really."

You crossed your arms. "What kind of favor?"

"I need you to come to a party with me tomorrow night."

You blinked. "A party? Jaemin, you know I don't do parties. Especially not when I have class the next day."

"You have class at noon on Fridays." He countered quickly. "You'll be fine."

You gave him a long, skeptical look. "So all I have to do is... go to a party with you? That's it?"

He opened his mouth and hesitated.

You instantly leaned back. "Nope... nope, you're already pushing it. What's the real reason?"

"Wait! Just... let me explain, please." He clapped his hands together in a prayer gesture.

You sighed. "Ok fine. I'm listening, speak."

He sat up straighter, his grin faltering just a bit. "There's this guy, Haechan. I'm really fucking pissed at him."

You tilted your head. "Why?"

"He slept with the girl I really liked. Like, genuinely liked, not just thought was hot liked."

"Oof, I'm sorry." You said. "And... what does that have to do with me?"

He looked at you, dead serious now. "I want revenge."

You squinted. "What kind of revenge?"

"I want you to distract him. Just talk to him, keep him downstairs at the party, keep him busy, while I... you know."

"Jaemin." You said slowly. "Distract him from what?"

He hesitated for only a second, then smiled. "From me."

Your eyes narrowed. "If you're doing anything illegal, I'm out."

"I'm trying to fuck his sister."

There was a full beat of silence as your mouth dropped open, eyes wide.

"You what— seriously?" You said, disbelief and a reluctant laugh bubbling up all at once.

"She's hot!" He defended, already laughing. "And it's perfect, he'll lose his shit when he finds out."

"You couldn't just... I don't know, hook up with a girl he likes or something? Call it even?" You asked, raising a brow.

"Yeah well, Haechan doesn't like girls." Jaemin said casually.

You blinked, your brows furrowing slightly. "...hmm?"

He held up a finger with a small smile. "Not like that, don't look at me like that."

You leaned back, smirking. "Mmm, sure."

"What I mean is, he doesn't have feelings for anyone. Not girls, not really anyone. He just uses people— gets what he wants, then tosses them aside. He's emotionally detached. Kind of fucked up, honestly."

You frowned slightly. "You're just being dramatic."

"He's dramatic!" Jaemin shot back. "The man throws house parties on Thursdays for no reason. He once invited a girl over, got head, and then called her a uber while she was still on her knees."

Your eyes widened slightly. "Damn, he sounds like a real asshole. How does someone like that have this big of a name already?"

"He's a senior." Jaemin said with a roll of his eyes. "But all he does is throw parties, drink, and do drugs. He's a loser honestly."

You exhaled. "So... all I have to do is distract him— nothing else?"

"That's it. Just talk to him, keep him downstairs for like twenty minutes. If he tries anything, call me and I'll come get you. Promise."

You bit your lip, thinking. "Ok Fine, but only this once."

"YES! Oh my god, I love you so much, you're actually the best." Jaemin said, beaming at you.

"Yeah, yeah. Now you owe me, pick up those flashcards." You said, tossing the stack into his lap as you turned back to your desk.

He caught them and gave a smile. "Delighted, my queen."

You just rolled your eyes, but your smile lingered as you reached for your pen.

══════════════════════════

You finished the final touches on your hair, giving yourself one last glance in the mirror before grabbing your phone. Right on cue, Jaemin's name lit up the screen with a text:

Jaemin [11:47 PM]:

"I'm outside."

Stepping outside, you spotted him leaning against his car, arms crossed and a grin already spreading across his face as he saw you approach.

"Damn." He said, letting his gaze travel from head to toe with an exaggerated nod of approval. "You look sexy."

"Thank you, Jaemin." You replied smoothly, brushing past him with a hint of sarcasm in your voice.

He opened the passenger side door for you, but paused before you could step in. "I mean... we don't have to go right now, you know. We could go upstairs instead— chill a little, you and me... one on one." He tilted his head, giving you the same smirk he always uses when he's up to no good.

You raised your hand and snapped your fingers right in front of his face. "Focus."

"I am focused." He said, blinking slowly. "Just... not on the party anymore."

"Seriously." You said, sliding him a look as you walked to the car. "Is it your life's mission to try and sleep with every girl you meet?"

"Not every girl." He replied, shrugging as he followed behind. "Only the special ones."

You raised a brow. "And what would your mother think of you throwing yourself at someone who's practically your sister?"

"Ew, don't say it like that." He scowled, visibly shuddering. "That ruined it for me, thanks."

"Good." You smirked, climbing into the car.

He got in on the driver's side and started the engine, throwing you a side glance. "You're lucky I love you, anyone else and I'd have driven off by now in heartbreak."

"Right, so tragic." You said with fake sympathy, adjusting your seatbelt.

Jaemin chuckled, turning up the music just enough to fill the space between you. The drive was short, maybe ten minutes at most, but the energy shifted just slightly as the neon lights of the house party came into view down the street.

He slowed the car and looked over at you. "Hey... real talk for a second."

You turned toward him, a little wary. "What?"

"I know I joke a lot." He said, eyes flicking over your face, a little more serious now. "But I'm not gonna throw you into the deep end or anything. If this gets weird or Haechan gets weird, just call me and I'll come get you, no questions."

You blinked, surprised by the softness in his voice. "Jaemin..."

"And if you wanna bail at any point." He added. "Just say the word."

A small smile appeared on your lips. "Thanks. I mean it's just a distraction mission, right? I think I can handle that."

He nodded, but his gaze lingered on you. "I know you can. You're... careful, thoughtful— like you think ahead."

You gave a dry laugh. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

"It's not." He said. "Just means I won't have to worry about you doing something stupid."

Your eyes narrowed slightly. "What are you trying to say?"

He hesitated, then said it gently: "I remember that conversation we had last year. About how you were still, you know... saving yourself."

Your cheeks flushed instantly. "Wow, really bringing that up right now?"

"I'm not judging." He said quickly. "I actually think it's cool. You're not like the rest of them, that's why I care if you're ok."

You looked out the window, the beat of the music fading under the weight of his words. "Thanks, I guess."

Jaemin parked across the street, cutting the engine. "I know I'm an asshole sometimes, but I wouldn't bring you into this if I didn't trust you."

You exhaled slowly, then met his eyes. "Ok, let's do this."

"Hell yeah." He grinned, hopping out and circling around to open your door once more.

You stepped into the house, instantly hit by the loud bass of the music and the scent of weed, alcohol, and too much cologne. Bodies swayed under strobe lights, some grinding against each other, others already too far gone to care how they looked. Jaemin kept a casual, but protective hand on your lower back as he guided you through the crowd, eyes scanning the room like he was on a mission.

"That's him." He muttered, leaning down so only you could hear. He nodded subtly toward the kitchen.

Your gaze followed and landed on a guy behind the counter, restocking a row of liquor bottles.

You paused, he was... hotter than expected.

Black hair, tan skin, a body that made a plain black tee and jeans look like he was born for it. His movements were effortless, confident. His smile, charming. There was something in the way he looked people in the eye when talking, like they were the only person in the room. Your lips parted slightly as you took him in, eyes dragging over the way his shirt clung to his waist, the veins on his forearm flexing as he adjusted a bottle.

"Oh no." Jaemin teased, pulling you out of your trance. "Are we losing you already?"

"No." You said too quickly, blinking yourself back into reality. "No, just observing."

"Mmhmm." Jaemin smirked. "Well, he's your target babe. You've got all night."

"Lucky me." You muttered half sarcastically, but then he grabbed your arm gently.

"You sure?"

You turned toward him. "Yeah, are you?"

He nodded, though a flicker of something uncertain passed over his face. "Just, wait." He reached into his pocket and held something out, a condom.

"Jaemin—"

"Just in case." He said, tone serious now. "Even if he insists, don't let him talk you into going raw, I mean it."

You rolled your eyes, but smiled. "I'm not gonna do anything, relax."

"I know you won't, Y/n." He said, softer now. "But he'll try and sometimes the heat of the moment sneaks up on you. So just... have it, please."

You took it with a small nod and shoved it into your back pocket.

"Good luck with your girl." You said.

"Good luck with your guy. If you need me, call me."

And with that, you were on your own.

You straightened your shoulders, pulled your confidence up, and walked toward the kitchen— eyes locked on him the whole time. He didn't notice you at first, too busy rearranging cups and pouring mixers, but when he turned, his gaze landed on you like a spark.

"You look a little bored over here all alone." You said, voice smooth.

He looked you over slowly, thoroughly. "I am, are you gonna do something about that?"

"Maybe." You smiled, tilting your head. "But are you really worth my time?"

He grinned, a cocky thing that only made him more irresistible. "Maybe."

You watched as he accidentally slammed a bottle of tequila a little too hard on the counter, too distracted by your presence.

"I don't know..." You said, stepping closer. "You can't even handle a bottle. What makes you think you can handle me?"

He leaned a little closer, voice dropping. "I can— when I'm drinking."

"That doesn't sound very fun." You teased, watching the way his eyes flickered down to your lips.

"It is fun." He said. "Especially with a pretty girl like you."

Your hand slid over his on the counter, fingers brushing against his skin as you lifted the bottle from under his touch. "Then why aren't we drinking?"

He paused for a second, watching you intently. "Why aren't we?"

"You're still hogging the bottle." You murmured.

For a moment, you were locked in a wordless gaze, one of those silences that say more than anything spoken. You held it, tested him with your eyes.

"Are you just gonna stare." You finally said. "Or are you gonna pour me a shot?"

He smiled and grabbed two glasses, pouring quickly.

"What are we cheering to?" He asked.

You smirked. "To wherever this night takes us."

He clinked his glass to yours. "Dangerous words."

You both downed the shots, the tequila burning its way down your throat. You didn't even shudder.

"Wow." He said, licking his lips. "You took that like a champ."

"I can take a lot." You replied, wiping the corner of your mouth and not looking away once.

"That so? He said, exhaling slowly, pausing for a second. "Then take another with me."

"Don't you wanna wait?" You asked, your voice hinting a bit of concern.

"I thought you said you could take it." He challenged.

"Are you calling me a liar?" You raised a brow.

"Yeah." He shrugged. "I guess I am."

You grabbed your glass, poured another, and tossed it back without blinking, and he followed right after. That turned into a third, then a fourth.

By now, your skin was buzzing, cheeks flushed with heat. The line between performance and reality blurred fast.

You talked about nothing— music, parties, stupid shit, other people you both barely knew, but everything had a spark to it. The way his gaze lingered when you laughed, the way his hand brushed your waist when reaching for more cups, the subtle way your knees touched.

"You dance?" He asked, stepping just slightly closer.

"Depends who's asking."

He gave that dangerous smile again. "You know who's asking."

You glanced at your phone, and still no text from Jaemin. Thirty minutes of flirtation— of temptation. You looked back up at Haechan, something electric passing between you.

You smirked. "Let's dance then."

The music pulsed around you as he led you out of the kitchen and into the crowd. The beat was dark, seductive, and you let yourself move to it, swaying your hips, letting the rhythm take you. His hands found your waist. You didn't stop him. His body pressed behind yours, chest to back, his lips brushing close to your ear every time he said something teasing.

His hand slid lower and you turned to face him, now chest to chest, bodies moving in sync.

He leaned in close, mouth brushing your ear. "You wanna go upstairs?"

You paused, swallowing hard. "Mmm... I don't know..."

He pulled back just enough to see your eyes. "Why not?"

"I don't want you to think I'm some kind of whore or something." You admitted, voice quieter now.

He blinked, then tilted his head, gaze softening just slightly. "Then let's not go upstairs."

You blinked at him, not responding.

He leaned closer again, voice husky. "Come here."

Before you could respond, he took your hand and led you down a dim hallway off the side of the living room, the noise of the party muffled behind you. It was quiet here, secluded . You were suddenly aware of how your pulse picked up.

He pushed you against the wall, hands bracing both sides of your head.

"This okay?" He asked.

You nodded slowly, heart racing and then his lips were on yours.

It was hot, insistent. His mouth moved like he already knew how you liked to be kissed— like you were meant to be tasted slowly, like his hands couldn't decide whether to cup your cheek or grip your hip tighter.

He pressed closer, lips trailing down your neck, his hand tugging lightly at the hem of your shirt. You gasped, your body reacting faster than your brain could catch up.

And then your phone buzzed, twice.

You broke the kiss breathless, and fished it from your back pocket. Jaemin.

"Clear. Let's go."

You looked up at Haechan, his lips kiss bitten.

"Aw, I gotta go." You said softly, smiling while biting your lip.

He blinked, still catching his breath. "Seriously?"

You said nothing, just shrugged.

He smirked, eyes glinting. "You leaving now makes me want you more."

You backed away slowly, keeping eye contact as you fixed your shirt. "Good."

You turned, leaving him in the hallway, the taste of tequila still tingling on your lips.

You met Jaemin at the front door just as he was coming down the porch steps, his hair slightly tousled, lips flushed, and a dazed kind of grin stretching across his face. His shirt was wrinkled, and he looked like he'd just barely remembered how to walk straight.

You raised an eyebrow, smoothing your own hair out with your fingers. "What took you so long?"

He laughed, wiping his mouth like he was still catching his breath. "Got caught up in the moment."

You rolled your eyes as you both started walking down the sidewalk, leaving the pulse of the party behind you.

"I've never seen you this messed up in person." He said, glancing at you.

You just shrugged, before turning to him. "How was your night?"

"Fucking amazing." He said, letting out a blissed sigh. "She was... yeah, worth it."

You smirked. "I'm happy for you. Sounds like you had fun."

He turned to look at you, a little more alert now. "What about you? How'd it go?"

You shrugged with a soft smile, brushing your fingers against your lips almost unconsciously. "It was... fun. He's fun and hot— too hot, honestly."

Jaemin groaned dramatically, dragging his hand down his face. "Oh god, please don't tell me you slept with him."

You gave him a shove. "No, chill. He tried like you said he would, but I didn't. We just made out."

Jaemin gasped. "Y/n, you definitely have like, mono now."

You laughed, shoving him again. "He's not that bad."

"He's that bad." Jaemin said, shooting you a look. "How was he looking at you? It was probably like he was deciding how to ruin your life in the hottest way possible."

You gave a dreamy little sigh. "Yeah... I noticed."

Jaemin gasped. "Oh my god, you're into him."

"No I'm not." You tucked your hands into your jacket pocket, smiling to yourself. "He's just... magnetic. Like, he knows exactly what to say and exactly how to look at you when he says it."

"Uh huh, that's called manipulation." Jaemin said.

"I mean, maybe." You admitted. "But he was also weirdly... sweet? Like, he actually listened to me talk and he didn't push when I said no."

Jaemin raised a skeptical brow. "Ok, maybe a half point for consent, but let's not pretend this is some romance. You got lucky. I've seen girls fall for his type before, and they don't come out looking as cute as you do right now."

You gave a laugh. "I don't think I'm going back anyway. Not my scene."

"Good." Jaemin said with a little relief in his voice. "Because he's probably not gonna let you step foot at another party anyways because you rejected him. That boy's ego is fragile."

You tilted your head thoughtfully. "Well, if I never plan on going back, it doesn't matter what he thinks of me."

Jaemin grinned. "And that's why I love you."

You rolled your eyes but smiled back. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever."

He reached over and draped his arm around your shoulder, pulling you into a sideways hug as you walked. "Seriously, thank you. You saved my ass tonight."

"I know I did." You grinned, letting yourself lean into him for a second. "You owe me, like, five coffees and a weekend of doing whatever I want."

"Done." He said immediately. "As long as 'whatever you want' doesn't include throwing yourself at Haechan again."

You laughed. "He threw himself at me, thank you very much."

"Right, right." He said, laughing. "Just remember who's actually got your back when you get those 'u up?' texts at 2 AM."

You gave a smile, already hearing the echo of Haechan's voice in your head, the taste of tequila and heat still lingering on your lips.

"I won't forget."

══════════════════════════

It had been about a week since the party, and life had mostly returned to normal. School, studying, sleep, repeat. But he kept showing up uninvited in the quiet moments between thoughts. The memory of his voice, the glint in his eyes, the way his hands felt when they slid around your waist like he'd done it a hundred times before. You hated how he stuck in your head.

Still, it was whatever. You weren't going to do anything about it. You had your routine, and it didn't include making out with cocky boys in back hallways at house parties.

You'd just wrapped up another cram session for your Thursday Bio test—highlighted notes and color coded flashcards spread across your desk, when you heard it. A familiar, echoing voice in the hallway.

"Y/n!"

You didn't even look up. "You never knock."

Jaemin burst into your room like he owned the place, arms wide, his signature grin already plastered on his face. "My beautiful Y/n, I have arrived."

You leaned back in your desk chair, crossing your arms. "I can see that."

He walked over to hug you, and you let him, even though you were still recovering from the mental strain of studying.

"You know." You mumbled as he pulled back. "One day you're going to bust in here and catch me changing or worse, touching myself."

"Even more reason to keep doing it." He smiled.

You rolled your eyes. "You're actually such a creep."

"Yeah, yeah." He laughed it off, but then paused. His smile lingered familiarly, but you saw the hesitation flicker in his eyes.

You squinted. "What do you want, Jaemin?"

He gasped dramatically. "Y/n! I'm hurt, you think I only come here when I need something?"

You gave him a look, one he couldn't argue with.

"Ok, fine." He said. "But in my defense, we help each other equally."

"You mean I help you and you buy me coffee once a month?"

"Exactly." He grinned.

You sighed. "What is it this time?"

Jaemin scratched the back of his neck. "So, remember how you said you wouldn't go back to the party again?"

You blinked slowly. "Yeah..."

"Well, technically I'm not asking you to go for you. I'm asking on behalf of... well, her. His sister, she invited me again, practically begged— and I think we both know how that's gonna go."

He glanced at you cautiously.

"And you want me to keep Haechan busy again." You finished for him, leaning back in your chair.

"Look, I wouldn't need you to, but it'd be... really helpful." He said carefully. "I just need him not in the way, just for a little while."

Your brain flickered back to Haechan. His smirk, the way he made you feel both seen and exposed. The way he leaned in like he already knew what you'd do next. You told yourself you were over it, just a one time heat of the moment thing. But even now, something twisted in your stomach at the thought of seeing him again.

"Listen, I know you said you're not—"

"I'm down." You said, the words escaping before your brain caught up.

Jaemin blinked. "Wait, seriously?"

You cleared your throat. "Yeah, sure. You need me, right?"

His eyes narrowed. "Wow you really like this guy."

You rolled your eyes. "I'm just looking out for a friend."

Jaemin crossed his arms, fake pouting. "I don't know, I'm reconsidering this whole plan now. First he gets the girl I liked, now it's my best friend? I might need to keep you on lockdown."

You smirked. "Maybe that was my plan all along, you should just stay in."

"Nope." He said, pointing at you. "We're going, but this is the last time, I swear. And for real, don't do anything with him. Now I'm actually worried."

You held up your hands in surrender. "It's my job to distract, that's what I'm gonna do."

"I don't know if I trust you with that anymore." He shook his head, even though he smiled.

"You should." You said quietly.

He paused. "I'm teasing." He said after a minute. "I do. I guess."

You just smiled, the kind that said you already made your decision.

The house was louder this time. Packed tighter, music thumping harder, the kind of base that made your bones vibrate. You stood with Jaemin for a moment, eyes scanning the crowd.

You told yourself this was just a favor, a distraction like last time.

But as soon as you saw him— Haechan, leaning casually against the kitchen counter, sipping something from a red cup with that lazy grin on his face, all of that logic began to melt.

He looked even better than you remembered. Black hoodie, chain peeking from under the collar, dark hair slightly damp.

He spotted you instantly, his smirk curling as he straightened up.

You glanced over at Jaemin. "You owe me."

"I owe you my life." He said, already making a beeline toward the stairs. And just like that, you were alone, again... with him.

Haechan pushed off the counter and met you halfway.

"Well, well." He said, voice low. "Look who came back for seconds."

You tilted your head. "Maybe I'm just here for the drinks."

His eyes scanned you, slow and deliberate. "You look like trouble tonight."

You stepped in, closing the gap just enough to be suggestive. "You think I wasn't trouble last time?"

He laughed, licking his lips. "No, last time you were temptation. Tonight? I don't think I'll be able to behave."

You let yourself smile just a little.

"Try to." You said, smirking as you hit Haechan's shoulder, weaving through the crowd and heading straight to the kitchen. The music thumped through the walls, as you grabbed a bottle of tequila from off the counter.

"You're already hurting my feelings." Haechan said from behind you, his voice dipping just enough to graze your nerves in that playful, confident way.

"How's that?" You asked turning, only for him to close the gap between you. His arms casually caging you against the counter, hands resting just close enough to your hips.

"Drinking without me." He said, smoothly taking the bottle from your hand like it belonged to him.

You tilted your head. "I'm sorry, who are you again?"

"You should know. It's my party, after all." He replied, that teasing grin never leaving his face as he leaned in just enough to test the space between you.

"You're cocky." You gave him a playful shove, but didn't move far.

"I'm Haechan. Who are you? I never got your name last time."

You raised an eyebrow. "Wow. Kissing a girl and not even knowing her name? I've heard about you, you know... what you do to girls, the type of person you are."

That made him pause for a second, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he held your gaze. "But you're still here, aren't you?"

You didn't reply, just smiled slowly, head tilting amused at his boldness.

"So." He leaned in again. "Are you gonna leave me alone, or tell me your name?"

"Y/n."

"Pretty." He said, the smile that followed unusually soft, like he actually meant it.

You eyed the bottle still in his hand. "Are you just gonna stand there and smile at me, or pour the damn shots?"

"I thought you'd never ask." He reached past you, his arm brushing yours as he grabbed two shot glasses. His cologne hit you, mixing with the alcohol and the buzz in your chest.

The tequila burned on the way down, but it made your limbs feel warm, relaxed.

"Is tequila your favorite?" He asked, eyes not leaving you.

You shook your head, setting the glass down. "Vodka mixed drinks. I don't like taking things straight."

He grinned at that, grabbing a red solo cup. He poured vodka, rum, and a splash of something creamy and white—the scent immediately familiar.

"Pina colada mixer?" You asked, brow raised.

"You seem like the type. Plus, you told me last time." He said with a smile.

"You remembered?"

"Of course. You're kinda hard to forget." He said, clinking his cup to yours before sipping.

You looked down for a second, smile slipping in without warning. "I really shouldn't be talking to you."

"Says who?"

"Myself, my conscience."

He shrugged. "You're a big girl, smart too. You know what you're doing. Just let go a little, everything doesn't have to be heavy all the time."

You gave him a playful side eye. "No?"

"Nope. If it was, it wouldn't be fun."

Before you could reply, someone passed by and handed him what looked like a vape.

"Fuck yes." Haechan muttered, taking a long drag and exhaling slowly, the smoke curling out the side of his mouth.

He held it out. "Want a hit?"

"Nah, I don't vape."

He blinked a little surprised, then laughed. "Baby, this is a cart, not a vape."

"Oh." You giggled. "That makes sense. Smelled... different."

"So do you want it?" He asked again.

"I don't know, I don't really do drugs."

"It's just weed. It's chill— makes everything feel good." He said, his tone smooth, not pushy.

You hesitated, biting your lip.

"I'm not forcing you, but trust me— it's fine."

"...Okay, fine." You took the cart, cautiously bringing it to your lips and inhaling. It hit your lungs faster than you expected, making you cough, but after a few seconds you got used to it, taking a few more hits. Warmth spread through you, you felt light and weightless.

"Haechan." You murmured, blinking slowly, finishing the drink in your hand. "Let's dance."

He didn't argue. You pulled him onto the dance floor where bodies swayed and moved like one blur of motion, but you were only aware of him. His hands on your hips, guiding your movements. His breath brushing the curve of your neck. His mouth near enough to graze your ear when he laughed at something you said.

And then you kissed him.

You didn't think— your lips were on his, his hands tightening slightly on your waist as he melted into it. The kind of kiss that made everything else disappear.

"How about we take this up to my room?" He whispered into your mouth, voice low.

"I told you I felt like—"

"You're not a whore." He cut in gently. "I want you. That doesn't make you anything except someone I want."

You hesitated for a second, the distant part of your brain catching up. "I don't know, my friend might come looking for me. He was supposed to—"

"He's not here right now." Haechan's voice was low and coaxing. "You're here, with me. You can make your own decisions."

You didn't answer, just grabbed his hand and followed him upstairs.

You were halfway down the hallway, your heart fluttering, when you passed a room and the unmistakable sound of soft moaning filtered out from behind the closed door.

Haechan paused, head turning. "What the fuck?" He muttered, steps slowing.

Shit... Jaemin.

Before he could say anything more, you spun him to face you, grabbing his face urgently, your hands warm against his cheeks. His brows lifted in surprise.

"Focus on me." You whispered.

And then you kissed him again, deeper and slower this time. Your hands slid into his hair, pulling him closer as your bodies melted together. His hands found your waist again, but they didn't stop there, traveling up your sides, fingers over your bare skin as his mouth moved against yours with increasing hunger.

He backed you gently into the nearest wall, lips never leaving yours as the kiss deepened. Your back arched into his touch, your hands tugging at the collar of his shirt, desperate to feel more.

His mouth dragged from your lips down your jaw, kissing, teasing, then down your neck where he paused, sucking gently at the sensitive spot just below your ear.

"Room's this way." He murmured between kisses, and you followed him, half stumbling into his room, laughing softly as he shut the door behind you.

The moment it clicked shut, he was back on you, lips on your neck, hands guiding you toward the bed.

He pushed you down onto the bed, his body pressing against yours as he climbed on top. One hand slid roughly up your thigh, bunching your dress higher, never breaking contact with your neck as his mouth stayed hot against your skin.

His fingers played with the edge of your underwear for a moment, teasing, before pulling them down to your knees.

He paused then, lifting his head. His eyes met yours, and for just a second something shifted, uncertainty flickering across his face. He licked his lips like he was thinking, maybe even questioning, but before you could say anything, he lowered himself again, kissing a slow path down your body, lips soft against your thigh.

His breath was warm against your skin as he kissed the inside of your thigh, slow and steady, his hands holding your legs apart. Every movement felt like he wanted to make sure you felt everything— every kiss, every brush of his lips.

He glanced up at you once more, eyes darker now, the hesitation from before gone. Then he lowered his head again, his mouth finding the tender spot just above your knee, then higher. His fingers slid up your thighs, anchoring you in place as his mouth moved closer, teasing you.

You could feel your body tightening beneath him, breath catching in your throat as he finally reached your folds, his lips brushing against your clit, gentle at first.

Then he gave in completely, his mouth working you with focus, his hands gripping your hips like he never wanted to let go.

His tongue slid over you as he teased you with soft flicks and gentle pressure, each movement sending a wave of heat through your body. Your hips shifted under his touch, instinctively searching for more, but he held you steady, his grip firm on your thighs.

He looked up at you again, eyes heavy, mouth glistening. Then he dove back in, hungrier this time, his tongue moving with purpose now, circling, pressing. The sounds he made vibrated against you, adding to the overwhelming sensation building fast inside you.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, needing something to hold onto as he drove you higher. He responded to every twitch, every gasp, adjusting his pace, his pressure, as if he could read exactly what your body craved.

Then he slid one finger inside you slowly, deeply, curling just right. The rhythm of his hand and mouth worked in perfect sync, pulling you closer to the edge with each passing second.

That's when your phone buzzed, the vibration low, but sharp against the haze in your mind. Your eyes blinked open, lashes heavy as you glanced down. A message lit up the screen.

Jaemin [1:35 AM]:

"I'm ready. Meet me outside."

"Ignore it." Haechan murmured against your thigh, voice deep and muffled. His lips brushed warm against your skin, but your eyes stayed on the message.

"Mmm... I have to go." You said, sitting up slowly, the daze of alcohol and drug weighing your limbs.

"What?" He asked, looking up at you with hooded eyes, lips still wet.

You smiled, pushing hair from your face as you stood fully. "Leaving you on a cliffhanger again."

"You're evil." He smirked lazily.

"Mm, bite me." You teased with a wink, turning for the door.

"Wait." He cut through.

You paused, glancing back over your shoulder with a raised brow.

"Can I at least get your number or something?"

You shook your head, a quiet laugh slipping past your lips. "Where's the fun in that?"

And then you were gone, the door clicking shut behind you. Haechan just smiled to himself, letting out a breath as he ran a hand through his hair. "Unbelievable."

Outside, the cool air hit your flushed cheeks as you stumbled into the night, spotting Jaemin.

"There she is." He grinned. "Somebody's fucked."

"You are too, shut up." You giggled, smacking his chest lightly.

"Nah, just you. I'm only a little bit drunk." He gave you that smug, crooked smile that always made your stomach flip.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." You muttered with a grin, stumbling into him slightly.

His arm came around your shoulders without thinking steadying you, but then he stopped, glancing at your face more closely, his smile fading.

"Y/n." He said slowly. "Are you... high?"

You paused, lips parting like you hadn't even thought to lie. "Maybe." You giggled.

Jaemin stared at you, concern overtaking every line of his face. "You never do that shit... you barely drink anymore— what the hell happened?"

"Relax, Jaem. It was just weed, a few hits. I'm fine."

"You could've had a bad trip." He said, eyes narrowing. "Or what if it was laced? You don't know who the fuck gave you that. You don't know what could've happened—"

"Can you chill?" You said, laughing. "You sound like my parent."

"That's what I gotta be when you do stupid shit like this." His voice dropped, rough with something deeper. "I just... I don't want anything bad to happen to you."

You smiled. "I'm fine, I swear."

"Alright. I'm staying at your place tonight."

"Damn, thanks for asking."

He gave you a look and just giggled again.

When you got home, your shoes hit the floor one by one as you peeled off your jacket, then the thin dress that clung to your skin. You collapsed face first into your bed in only your bra and underwear, the sheets cool against your flushed skin.

Jaemin followed behind. He dropped into your desk chair with a heavy exhale, pulling his hoodie off and tossing it aside. He leaned back, phone in hand, scrolling casually.

"You look good in this lighting." You said, voice smooth and thick as you propped yourself up on your elbows.

He looked up at you over his screen, lips quirking. "You're really saying that right now?"

"Mmhmm." You let your eyes drag down his figure slowly. "You've always been pretty Jaemin."

He laughed under his breath, glancing back at his phone, but not before you caught the slight flush in his cheeks.

You sat up more, letting your legs dangle over the side of the bed, posture relaxed, but eyes sharp with mischief.

"Come here." You said.

He raised an eyebrow. "To the bed?"

"Yeah, just wanna be close."

He hesitated for half a moment before standing. "You're so high." He muttered with a smirk, making his way over. He sat beside you, hands propped behind him on the mattress.

You leaned into him, fingers brushing up his arm softly. "You smell good." You murmured, eyes locked on his lips.

"Do I?" He asked, amusement threading through his voice.

"You always do." Your fingers trailed over his chest now, dragging down to his stomach. His muscles tightened slightly beneath your touch, but he didn't stop you. "And your skin's soft..."

Jaemin watched you, breath slower now. "You're really flirting with me right now?"

"I'm not flirting." You said, tone quiet. "I'm appreciating."

Your lips ghosted along his jaw, then lower to the curve of his neck. He tilted his head slightly, allowing the contact. You kissed him there— slowly, sensual, your lips lingering just a second too long.

He swallowed hard.

"I know you like it." You whispered.

His hand slid instinctively to your thigh, gripping gently as your lips traced down the side of his throat. He leaned into it, breathing deep through his nose.

But then—

"Wait." He said suddenly, pulling back. "I can't."

You blinked, stunned by the shift. "Why not?" You asked, voice low as you stared up at him.

"You're my best friend." He said, the words stuttering off his tongue.

"Oh, but when you ask to fuck me it's a different story?"

"It is." He said.

"Mmm, really?" You smirked, sliding your hand up his torso again, fingers trailing.

"Yes." He said firmly. "You're not sober and you don't actually want me right now, you're just under the influence... as fuck."

"I always want you." You said, eyes locked on his.

He sighed, the tension in his body slowly fading into something softer. He wrapped an arm around you and pulled you against him gently, tucking you under his chin.

"Please go to sleep, Y/n. I'm right here, just rest."

And... you listened. Eyes fluttering closed, breath slowing as the world dimmed into his warmth.

══════════════════════════

Your eyes fluttered open, vision blurry and head pounding. The sunlight filtered weakly through the curtains. You slowly sat up, blinking against the ache throbbing in your skull.

Jaemin was sprawled next to you on top of the blankets, one leg stretched over the edge of the bed, scrolling casually through his phone.

He glanced over. "Relax, it's just me." He said, offering a small smile.

You exhaled deeply, rubbing your temples with your fingers. A sharp pain spiked behind your eyes, a groan escaping your lips as you reached for your head.

"Here." Jaemin said, reaching down for a plastic bag on the floor. "I got you some water, some food, and Advil— for your headache." He set it on the bed beside you.

"How'd you know I have a headache?" You asked, unscrewing the cap of the water and popping the pills into your mouth.

"Jesus, Y/n." He scoffed, sitting up straighter. "You were shit faced last night, obviously you're gonna have a hangover."

"Right." You said with a smile. "Thank you for taking care of me."

"Yeah, of course." He returned the smile briefly, his attention sliding back to his phone.

Silence settled between you, but it wasn't entirely comfortable. Your brain was still catching up to reality, glimpses of last night flickering through your mind in half lit flashes. Laughter, music, moaning in the hallway. Haechan, and Jaemin... your heart beat a little harder at that last part.

"Hey..." You started cautiously. "Did we—" You hesitated. "We didn't do anything, did we?"

He chuckled, but didn't answer right away. The silence stretched a second too long, just enough to make your stomach flip.

"You tried." He said finally, his voice was calm, almost amused, but the words made your chest tighten. "But I stopped it, and you went to sleep— so, all clear." He gave you a lazy smile.

"Phew." You exhaled, falling back onto your pillow in relief.

"Damn." He teased, raising a brow. "Am I that bad?"

"No, no." You said quickly, laughing. "I just don't want to make you uncomfortable or anything."

"All good over here, you don't." He replied, eyes flickering back to his phone.

You shook your head, grinning. "Damn, I'm such a horny freak."

"I see how you get when you're drunk... and high." He added, glancing over at you, disappointment flickering in his gaze.

"Stop, Jaemin." You groaned, pushing his shoulder playfully.

"I'm still disappointed about that." He said, his voice a little firmer. "You need to be more careful. That's the last time you're going there ever again."

"You can't tell me what to do." You teased, lips quirking into a smile.

"Ahh, I guess I can't." He said dramatically, reaching over and grabbing the bag of food.

"Stop, give it." You laughed, stretching across him to snatch it back. Your fingers brushed against his hand, and your eyes caught his for a long, silent moment.

Your voice softened. "You know... I'm seriously grateful that you take care of me when I need it."

He blinked, lips twitching into a small smile. "Yeah, yeah. Now can you eat?"

You nodded, finally opening the container and taking a bite of food. "I almost accidentally got you caught, but I saved it." You said between bites, your voice cheeky.

"How, come?" He asked, only half listening as he scrolled.

"We came upstairs and we heard moaning." You said with a grin. "I'm guessing your party."

"You came upstairs to do what?" He looked up sharply now, eyes narrowing with suspicion.

You didn't respond, just smiled to yourself as you continued chewing.

"Did you fuck him?" He asked suddenly, sitting up straighter, eyes locked on yours.

"No, no." You answered quickly. "He just gave me head." Your voice was quieter now, but the confession hung in the air.

"He gave you head?" Jaemin blinked, dumbfounded. "YOU?" He repeated. "And he didn't get anything else from you? No sex, no head, not even a handjob?"

You shook your head. "Nope."

"Dude, he never does that... ever." He looked like he was short circuiting. "What's up with these guys just giving you head man? I'm impressed."

"First off, it only happened once before, so don't do that, and you know we don't talk about him, ok?" You said in a on edge voice.

"Ok, ok." He held up his hands in surrender.

"I guess I just gave the magic touch." You said with a smug smile.

"Damn, me next!" He cheered jokingly, grinning.

"Shit, maybe." You said with a smirk. "Haechan didn't even make me finish— well, because we were interrupted by someone." You shot him a playful look.

"Aw shucks." He said, chuckling. "Jaemin here to crash the party always."

"Partially." You replied. "I think he's not done with me though. Before I left, he asked for my number."

"He asked for your number— like, first? While you were leaving him?" Jaemin exclaimed, eyes wide with disbelief.

"Yep." You said.

"Did you give it to him?" He asked, leaning in like a gossipy teen.

"Nah. I don't think that's someone I should have access to at all times— for my own safety you know." You said, giggling.

"You're so smart, that's why I love you so, so much." He said with a bright smile... before it faltered slightly.

"I'm not smart for not giving him my number. I'm just not dumb." You said, brushing off the moment.

He recovered with a quick grin. "Maybe you aren't as bright as I thought, because that is the same thing."

"Shut up." You laughed, nudging his shoulder.

"Damn, I actually can't believe he did all this for you." Jaemin said, eyes wide again. "Nothing wrong with you of course, but he just— never acts that way with anyone. You might be his soulmate."

"Ew, shut up. Yes he's hot, but I could never imagine dating someone like him." You said, scrunching your nose.

"Good, because I doubt you're welcomed at any more parties after the double rejection you gave him." He said with a laugh.

"Didn't you say that the last time?"

"Yeah, but I mean it this time. You rejected him like four times."

"Okay, enough Haechan talk." You set the now empty container aside and leaned back. "I appreciate everything, but you should get going to freshen up. Plus, I have class in like an hour."

"You're still going?" He asked, brows raising.

"Absolutely, I'd never miss class."

"Okay, well..." He rubbed the back of his neck, hesitant. "Do you think we can meet up for dinner later?"

You paused, your tone shifting gently. "I think I need to be alone right now. I also have a project due on Tuesday that I'm cramming for because I got a little lazy. Let's meet... maybe Wednesday?"

He nodded. "Sounds good." With one last smile he stood up, grabbing his hoodie off the chair and slipping it on.

══════════════════════════

It was finally Wednesday, after days of cramming, sleepless nights, you had just submitted your project and shut your laptop with a dramatic sigh of relief. You sprawled out on your bed for a moment, eyes fluttering closed, the weight of the past few days slowly lifting off your shoulders.

The front door creaked open and slammed shut again, followed by the familiar shuffle of sneakers on hardwood.

"Yo." He called out, stepping into your room with a plastic takeout bag in hand.

You propped yourself up on your elbows, noticing something was off immediately. His voice lacked its usual playful energy. No cheeky grin, no snarky comment about your workaholic tendencies, just... a weird kind of stillness in his tone.

"What's up?" You asked, brows furrowing slightly at his hesitance.

He rubbed the back of his neck, glancing down for a second before meeting your gaze again. "I need you to come to the party with me again."

You blinked, half in disbelief. "Again?" You let out a soft giggle, sitting up fully. "Weren't you the one who banned me from that place like... twice?"

"Yeah, I know." He said with a sigh, plopping down beside you on the bed and setting the takeout between you. "But you're the only one who can distract Haechan well it appears, and fuck, that girl is so—"

He stopped himself mid sentence, biting his tongue. You stared at him, your smile fading slightly. He was always joking— even when things were serious, but right now he looked more anxious than amused.

"Right." You said slowly, nodding as you studied his face. You didn't press it— whatever that girl meant, you could guess, and it wasn't your place to dig.

"So... will you?" He asked again, voice low.

You hesitated for a second before shrugging. "Yeah, sure. Whatever."

His shoulders relaxed, just a little, and the smallest hint of a smile broke through. "You're a lifesaver."

You reached into the takeout bag, pulling out your container with a soft smirk. "You owe me something good for this."

"Oh, I got you extra fries." He said quickly, handing the container toward you like it was a peace offering.

You rolled your eyes. "Bribery works I guess."

══════════════════════════

The party was already fill by the time you and Jaemin arrived per usual. As soon as you stepped inside, Jaemin melted into the crowd like a ghost.

You didn't even bother calling after him. You just sighed, brushing past a couple making out near the stairs as you made your way to the kitchen. You needed a drink.

The fridge was wide open, someone rummaging through it carelessly. You reached past them for a can of something and cracked it open, sipping without thinking.

"Is this gonna be a pattern?" A familiar voice teased from behind you.

You turned, already knowing who it was, of course.

There he stood, eyes on you like you were the only person in the room. His head tilted just slightly, like he was already amused.

You crossed your arms and let out a short sigh. "Is what a pattern?"

"You drinking without me." He said smoothly.

You shook your head, watching as he took a sip from his own cup. "You're drinking without me too, so I'm not sure that makes sense."

"Just casually." He grinned, his voice light. "Take a shot with me."

You eyed him for a second, then gave a small nod. He reached over to the counter, pouring two uneven shots, one for each of you.

You raised yours with a quiet "cheers" before knocking it back. The alcohol settled in your stomach, hot and quick.

"You know I'm not doing anything with you, right?" You said once the warmth hit your chest.

He raised a brow, grin widening. "Did I ask?"

You huffed a soft laugh, unable to hide the way your lips curved despite your better judgment and his smirk deepened like he won something.

"It's loud in here, come outside with me." He said, already reaching for the bottle again, refilling both your cups without waiting for an answer.

You hesitated, something in you buzzing—nerves or excitement, you weren't sure, but you nodded anyway.

Outside, the backyard was a complete contrast to the chaos inside. Quieter, almost peaceful. Blue and purple led lights in the pool, casting a neon glow in the water. The heat of the night clung to your skin, but the moment you dipped your feet into the cool pool, relief washed over you.

He sat beside you, pulling a pre rolled blunt from his pocket and lit it with a flick of a lighter. For a second, the flame highlighted his face, features softened by the glow.

"How are you?" He asked, voice quieter now. "How was your week?"

You turned to him, blinking. "You actually care? Wow, that's new."

"You're so negative." He said, exhaling smoke before offering it to you.

You stared at it for a moment, fingers twitching slightly. Then you took it, bringing it to your lips and inhaling slow. You held it for a second before letting it go with a sigh.

"I'm cautious." You murmured, passing it back.

"Mmm." He hummed, nodding, puffing again.

"Why do you never disagree? Defend yourself when people say shit about you?" You questioned, turning to him.

"Because it's true. I'm not afraid to admit it." He said, exhaling slowly. "But sometimes people talk and over exaggerate, make it seem like I'm just heartless. If they're scared and stay away, that's their problem. But if they know what they're getting into— or think they do, then why should I waste my energy proving them wrong? In my eyes, they're just as fucked up as me."

You were quiet for a moment, then nodded slightly in agreement. He passed the blunt again, and you took two more puffs in silence. It wasn't awkward, just still.

"So." You eventually said, eyes drifting to the lit up pool. "How do you have such a big house as a college student?"

"My parents." He replied, tone casual. "They pay for everything while they go prance around in different countries, leaving me and my siblings behind."

"Siblings?" You echoed, surprised. You knew he had a sister, but hadn't heard anything about more.

"Yep. A younger sister and brother." He said, taking another hit. "My sister's a junior, doesn't live with me, but I keep a guest room here for when she wants a break from her roommates."

"And your brother?"

"He's a sophomore, goes to college a few hours from here— said he wanted a fresh start. I still check in with him a few times a week. He's had his ups and downs, but he's a good kid."

"I get that." You said. "I went somewhere else freshman year too. Only stayed for a year before transferring back here this year."

"So you are a sophomore." He said, nodding. "I figured."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He only shrugged, sipping his drink.

"What's your story?" He asked, glancing over. "Why'd you want a fresh start?"

"My mom died about two years ago." You said, the words escaping before you could filter them.

His face shifted. "Oh shit, I'm sorry."

"It's good." You said quickly, brushing it off. "It's actually kind of stupid, out of all the drugs, she died from weed. It was laced."

"Damn." He muttered. "Is that why you were so hesitant earlier?"

You nodded. "Yeah. People don't realize how terrifying it is, it's real."

"Fuck, now I feel like an asshole." He said, running a hand through his hair, a tired chuckle leaving his mouth as he put the blunt out.

"Don't." You told him. "You gotta grow up and not be scared sometimes. Plus, I can make my own decisions."

There was a pause before you added with a lazy smile, "I don't even know why I'm talking to you."

"What— because I'm 'evil'?" He teased, one brow rising.

You laughed. "No. Because you're a stranger."

He leaned back dramatically. "Wow, you kissed a stranger. What did you say? Whore."

"Oh, shut up." You rolled your eyes. "I guess you're not too much of a stranger."

"Exactly." He grinned. "But sometimes you just need someone to be there for you, stranger or not."

His eyes lingered on you now, more serious than before. "But... we don't have to stay strangers— I don't think we should."

You raised a brow.

"Just give me your number." He said, voice softer.

You squinted at him, half amused. "Is that what this was all about?"

"No." He said quickly, then paused. "I just... you're different and I'm curious about you."

"Curiosity." You said, rolling your eyes, a reluctant smile tugging at your lips.

"There's nothing wrong with that, is there?" He leaned a little closer. "We should just mess around, find out more about each other. You must be curious too?"

You stared at him for a second, lips pressing into a tight line. "I'm not."

"Ouch." He laughed, not entirely believing you, but to his credit, he didn't push.

You paused, then let out a sigh. "Fine, I'll give you my number."

His grin widened as he pulled his phone from his pocket and handed it to you.

"Thank you." He said genuinely.

"Maybe now we don't have to only talk to each other on Thursdays." You said, punching in your digits and handing it back.

"Mmm." He smiled, his gaze lingering on you.

As if on cue, your phone lit up with a text.

Jaemin [12:58 AM]:

"Let's go."

You looked up, Haechan already watching you.

"Well, I've got to go." You said, standing and brushing off your skirt.

"Is there a night where you're not gonna leave me?" He asked, smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he looked up at you.

"Mm... don't hold your breath." You smirked, waving before slipping back inside.

Jaemin was waiting by the door, hands in his pockets, a smile on his face.

"Well, well." He said as you approached. "What did you do tonight?"

"My job." You said with a giggle, eyes slightly hooded from the buzz in your system.

"Oh, you're high again?" His smile faded just a bit.

"Yeah, not a big deal." You said, casually hooking your arm around his like it was second nature.

"Right, and I can't even stay with you tonight."

"Why not?" You asked, looking up at him.

"Because you can't control yourself under the influence." He said bluntly.

"Wow, don't say that." You laughed. "I'm not even that fucked up, I could totally control myself."

"Right." He smirked. "But I probably can't."

"Yeah... maybe you shouldn't stay with me tonight then." You teased.

He let out a short laugh, shaking his head as the two of you disappeared into the night.

══════════════════════════

Saturday | 11:37 PM

You were curled up in bed, knees tucked beneath you, your laptop warming your thighs as the glow of the screen illuminated your face. The essay you've been chipping away at all day was only half done, and your focus was slipping fast. You already reread the same paragraph three times when your phone buzzed on the nightstand.

Unknown Number [11:37 PM]:

"Come over. Chill for a bit."

Your brow furrowed as you set your laptop aside and picked up the phone, thumb hovering over the screen.

You [11:37 PM]:

"Who is this?"

You already had a guess, but you weren't about to make it easy.

A few seconds passed.

Unknown Number [11:38 PM]:

"You know who it is."

You let out a quiet scoff, one corner of your mouth curling into a smirk, of course it was him.

You [11:39 PM]:

"Mmm, no I don't. So I guess that's a no."

Another pause, longer this time.

Unknown Number [11:40 PM]:

"Come over. Please."

Your thumb hovered again. You should've just gone back to your work, should've tossed your phone aside and shut the whole thing down.

You [11:41 PM]:

"I seriously can't, busy rn."

Unknown Number [11:41 PM]:

"Bummer."

You stared at the message, your bedroom suddenly too quiet. The flicker of curiosity and something else sat in your chest.

You [11:42 PM]:

"You can come over later though. We could watch a movie or something."

His response was fast.

Unknown Number [11:42 PM]:

"Later? It's already 11."

You [11:43 PM]:

"Ok, then don't."

Silence. Then...

Unknown Number [11:44 PM]:

Send the address.

You hesitated, biting your lip for a minute too long. Then you dropped a pin and hit send.

1:27 AM

You opened the door, blinking against the cooler air spilling into the hallway. Haechan stood there, hair tousled, a six pack of drinks in one hand and a smirk pulling at his lips.

"Didn't think you'd actually send it." He said, stepping inside without waiting.

"Didn't think you'd actually come." You replied, locking the door behind him.

"We're just sitting in the living room." You said, already making your way towards the couch.

"Perfect." He said, slipping off his jacket and tossing it over the armrest as he followed.

You pulled up something half decent on Netflix, something neither of you would end up watching, and settled in. He handed you a drink, and you clinked your cans together quietly.

He was the first to speak.

"How've you been? Since Thursday." He asked, voice soft, watching you from the side.

You took a slow sip, eyes on the screen. "Busy. Regretting life decisions."

He chuckled, amused. "Yeah, which ones?"

"Letting you text me."

A grin tugged at his mouth as he leaned back, one arm draping lazily along the back of the couch. "You're the one who invited me, sweetheart."

"You begged."

"I don't beg."

You gave him a look. "You literally said please."

"I'm just a convincer." He shot back smoothly.

"Manipulator." You corrected with a smile.

He laughed again, reaching into his pocket. "Mind if I hit this?"

You glanced at the sleek cart between his fingers, then at the hallway.

"Even though my roommates aren't here, they're still strict about smoking in shared spaces." You said. "No vape, no carts— none of it."

He blinked, pausing. "Damn. I can go if—"

"No." You interrupted, standing. "We can go to my room."

His eyebrows arched in interest as he rose to follow.

Your room was dim and cozy, washed in soft fairy lights. You pushed the door closed behind him and leaned against it for a moment before crossing to the bed.

"This is cute." He said, looking around. "You always have a vibe."

"Try not to ruin it." You said, climbing onto the bed and settling into the pillows. He leaned against your desk, then raised the cart again and took a slow pull, the scent hitting your nose.

"You want?" He asked.

You rose from the bed, stepping toward him and plucked it from his fingers without breaking eye contact.

His brows lifted. "Woah."

You rolled your eyes. "Don't be selfish now."

He smirked, but his voice dropped just slightly as he teased, "What if it's laced?"

"Not funny." You said.

He held his hands up, surrendering, though his grin said he enjoyed every second.

You took a slow puff and handed it back.

"That's all I'm doing." You murmured.

But that wasn't true.

Time slipped, the air thickened, you kept passing it back and forth, voices growing lower, laughter softening.

At some point, you looked up and noticed he was still standing.

"You've been standing there whole time." You said, eyes a little glassy, lashes fluttering as you sat up straighter.

"Yeah, I know. Why?" He asked, inching closer.

"Just curious why you don't want to be near me." You said with a teasing shrug.

He stepped in front of you now, close enough that you could see the shift in his expression. "I'm near." He murmured.

"Not close enough." Your voice was soft but firm as you reached out, trailing your hands up his arm and guiding it onto your shoulder.

His fingers stayed, curling gently over your skin. His gaze dropped to your lips, then flicked back up.

"Don't look at me like that." He said, eyes low.

"Like what?" You asked, guiding his arm again until his hand cupped your jaw.

"Like you want me to ruin the night."

His hand lingered against your cheek, the warmth of his palm spreading through your skin. Your breath hitched, fingers curling softly around his wrist.

You tugged him closer, his face now just inches from yours as he leaned over you, one hand settling on your thigh. "Maybe I do."

He closed the distance between you instantly, his lips crashing against yours with desperately. The hand that had been gently cupping your cheek slid to the back of your neck, fingers curling as he pulled you closer, deepening the kiss.

Your hands found the hem of his shirt, gripping it tightly as you tugged, urging him to shed the barrier between you. He broke the kiss just long enough to pull the shirt over his head, tossing it aside. His sweats hung low on his hips, revealing the sharp lines of his v-line.

He climbed fully onto the bed, hovering over you, claiming your lips in a heated, breathless kiss. His hands moved, tugging your shirt and pajama shorts off in one swift motion, never once breaking eye contact, the intensity in his gaze made your breath catch.

He leaned in again, capturing your lips in another kiss— wet and messy. As his mouth moved against yours, he nudged your legs apart with his own, his knee slipping between them, pressing softly against your heat.

His lips left yours only to travel down your neck, trailing gentle kisses that quickly turned rougher. He latched onto a sensitive spot just below your jaw, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. The sensation paired with the slow pressure of his knee drew soft moans from your lips. Your fingers found his hair, tangling in it as your hips shifted unconsciously in response.

"I don't have a condom." He murmured, his breath warm against your neck.

You were just about to leave it, but Jaemin's voice sounded in your head: "Don't let him fuck you raw."

Without thinking, you reached over to your nightstand, fingers finding the familiar shape of a silver foil square that you got a few weeks back. You pressed it to his chest, your eyes meeting his.

He paused, a slow amused smile spreading across his lips. A soft chuckle escaped him. "Smart." He said under his breath.

He rose to his feet, pushing his sweats and boxers down in one fluid motion. Tearing the foil open with his teeth, discarding the wrapper carelessly onto the floor, then rolled the condom on with ease, his eyes never straying far from you.

He grabbed your legs with firm hands, dragging you to the edge of the bed, his gaze locked onto yours intensely. Without a word, he hooked his fingers into your underwear and yanked them down, leaving you bare beneath him.

He leaned in again, capturing your lips in another deep kiss. His mouth moved over yours, but as you pulled back your eyes shimmered.

"I haven't— this is my first time." You admitted, voice barely above a whisper, breathless and shaking.

For a moment everything stilled. His expression shifted, something flickering behind his eyes— part surprise, part fascination.

"I'll try to be gentle." He said softly, his voice low and tight with restraint.

He stood, hands skimming down the length of your legs until they reached beneath your knees. He lifted them slowly, spreading you open softly.

He positioned himself between your legs, his body tense. He paused, eyes locked on yours for a moment, as if waiting for any sign of hesitation.

Then he pushed into you. The sting was sharp, and you gasped, your breath catching. He froze for a second, his forehead pressing lightly against yours.

"Breathe." He whispered, his voice rough. He gave you a moment, just enough to adjust before he asked, "Ok?"

You nodded, too breathless to say anything, but when you didn't pull away he pushed further, the pace picking up as he moved into you again, harder and deeper this time.

He gripped your legs tightly, forcing you open as he thrusted into you, his movements rougher now, more desperate. The initial sting quickly faded into a pulsing heat that had you gasping with every thrust, each push a little harder than the last.

"You feel so fucking good." He muttered, voice thick with desire. His hands tightened on your legs, and he slammed into you with more urgency, his pace picking up, rougher and less controlled. The air was thick with the sound of skin meeting skin, the room vibrating.

The tension in your body kept building, the pleasure mixing with the intensity of each thrust. His breath was uneven and shallow as he moved faster, harder, his grip tightening. There was no slowing down now.

"Fuck." He groaned, his movements becoming more erratic, less restrained. "So fucking perfect."

The care he showed earlier was gone. His pace didn't slow, only grew faster, more frantic. Each thrust hit deeper, more forceful, and you could feel every inch of him filling you completely. You clung to him, nails digging into his skin as he fucked into you without restraint.

The sounds of your bodies crashing together filled the air, a mix of moans, heavy breathing, and the wet, slick noise of each push. He didn't give you time to adjust, didn't pause to check in again. He just kept going, his grip tightening on your legs, forcing them open even wider as he moved harder.

The pleasure was building, overwhelming you, the pressure mounting with every thrust. Your body felt like it was on fire, heat pooling low in your stomach as his thrusts drove you closer to the edge.

"You like that, huh?" He groaned, his voice rough. His eyes flickered down to where you were joined, watching how he moved inside you. "You're so fucking tight."

You couldn't form words anymore, only moans escaping your lips as your hips instinctively moved against him, meeting each thrust, urging him deeper. Every motion felt like a jolt of electricity running through you, tightening your core, making everything spin.

His hand slid down from your legs, gripping your waist as he pulled you closer, driving into you with more force. The friction built, sending waves of pleasure crashing over you.

"God, I'm gonna make you cum." He grunted, his own pace stammering just slightly as his own release neared. "Hold on."

His hips snapped into yours recklessly, his movements growing more urgent. His grip on your waist tightened as he pounded into you, each thrust harder than the last, the sound of your skin meeting his filling the room.

"You feel fucking amazing." He whimpered, his voice strained, the force of his movements making your whole body shake beneath him.

He cursed under his breath as your nails scraped down his back, and with one last, brutal thrust, you felt everything snap—your body tensing, your legs trembling as the pressure exploded inside you. A loud, breathless moan escaped your lips as your orgasm ripped through you, your whole body convulsing around him.

He didn't stop though, didn't give you a second to breathe. His thrusts only grew more erratic, chasing his own release as you clenched around him, each movement pushing him closer to the edge.

"Fuck, yes." He groaned, his eyes locked onto yours as he slammed into you again.

"I'm there..." He buried his face into your neck, movements sloppy as he finally came, his body shaking as he released with a low groan.

He collapsed against you, his body still trembling, his breath coming in ragged gasps. For a moment neither of you moved, lying there tangled together, trying to catch your breath. His head rested on your shoulder, his chest rising and falling against yours. The tension in his muscles slowly started to melt away, and you felt the steady rhythm of his heart begin to slow.

He shifted slightly, pulling back just enough to look at you, his gaze softer now. His fingers traced the curve of your cheek, brushing away a strand of hair.

"Are you okay?" He asked, his voice quieter now.

You nodded, unable to find the words just yet. He gave a small smile. "I didn't mean to... push too hard."

You shook your head, pressing your palm to his chest. "It was... good." You whispered, your voice still shaky, but calm now.

"Good." He murmured again.

══════════════════════════

The day after – 1:18 PM

You woke up to loud, insistent banging on your door.

You blinked your eyes open, lashes heavy with sleep, your body sore and aching in ways that immediately brought back hazy memories of the night before. You reached for your phone on the nightstand, and the screen lit up— four unread messages, all from Jaemin.

Jaemin [12:38 PM]:

"u want chicken tenders or a burger?"

Jaemin [12:44 PM]:

"Hello? I need u to hurry I'm in line."

Jaemin [12:57 PM]:

"Just got chicken tenders u took too long, otw."

Jaemin [1:17 PM]:

"Dude, open the door wtf?"

Your stomach dropped... shit.

It was Sunday, your Sunday. Movies and lunch with Jaemin, your thing since middle school, the one routine neither of you ever skipped and was always on time for.

You sat up too quickly and instantly regretted it. A sharp pulse radiated through your thighs, your knees folded slightly beneath you as you stood. You hissed through your teeth, muttering a quiet curse. The soreness, the silence in the room, the disheveled sheets tangled behind you and...

No Haechan, not a trace.

You probably weren't going to hear from him again. If anything, he'd gotten exactly what he wanted and maybe... so had you.

You slipped into the first pair of underwear you could find, pulling on an oversized t-shirt and not even checking the mirror. You couldn't be bothered. Your body felt heavier than usual, limbs slow, mind foggy.

You stumbled to the door, fingers fumbling over the lock before it clicked open. Jaemin stood there with a takeout bag in one hand and annoyance on his face. "Where the fuck—" He froze.

His expression shifted fast, first frustration then concern as his eyes scanned your face, your hair, the obvious haze of sleep in your eyes. "Are you okay?"

You nodded once, voice scratchy. "Yeah. Just... come in."

You turned around, not realizing how stiffly you were walking until you heard his voice again behind you.

"You're walking weird."

You glanced over your shoulder, trying to play it off. "I just woke up, Jaem."

But his brows drew together, and he followed you with quiet suspicion. He spun once in your desk chair before planting his feet and letting his eyes roam, and stopped.

You didn't notice at first, but his gaze lingered just a little too long on your neck.

"Those weren't there last time I saw you." He said.

You forced a small laugh, brushing your hair back casually. "What, you keeping track now?"

"It's hard not to when it looks like someone marked you up like a vampire." He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes.

You turned away, cheeks flushing, but you stayed silent.

He held up the takeout bag. "I got you food, don't know if you saw my text."

"I didn't." You said, hovering at the edge of your bed. "But thanks, I'm starving."

He smiled for real this time, but just as he reached to hand you the bag something on the floor caught his attention.

His hand froze mid air. He bent slightly, reaching down beside your nightstand. A second later, you watched his fingers close around a small, crinkled square of foil.

An empty condom wrapper.

He stared at it, his jaw twitching once before he tossed it into the trash without another word.

The air in the room changed instantly. You stood still, frozen as he looked at you.

You tried to lighten the mood, your voice forced. "The one you gave me, remember?"

But he didn't smile, didn't even blink. His voice dropped, almost too calm. "Did you...?"

You hesitated, then sighed. "Yeah. Last night."

He blinked once, and then again. He opened his mouth, but for a second, no sound came out. "Thought you were saving yourself."

You gave a slight shrug, arms folding across your chest. "Guess I changed my mind."

Another moment of silence. He tilted his head slightly, a ghost of a smile on his lips now, confused. "Who was the lucky guy?"

You hesitated, biting your bottom lip.

His eyes narrowed before he scoffed. "I know that face... no way."

Still, you said nothing.

He let out a short, stunned laugh, humorless. "No fucking way." Jaemin stood up, the desk chair creaking loudly behind him.

You met his gaze, heart thudding. "Jaem—"

"You let him?" His voice rose, disbelief mixed with something else— hurt, maybe. "Out of all people, him? Seriously? What, he texted you 'come over' and you just—fucking hell Y/n."

"It wasn't like that." You murmured.

"You ghost me for hours, you never miss our Sundays. I show up and you're sore and covered in hickeys—"

"I was asleep, Jaemin."

He scoffed. "Name one time you've ever slept past noon this year?"

You stayed silent.

"Exactly."

"I didn't plan for it to happen." You said quietly.

"That's the problem... he did!" He snapped. "I didn't think you were so easy. What, he called you pretty and that's enough for you to spread your legs?"

"No, I—"

"What, you've known this guy for like a month? You knew he just wanted to use you and you went along with it?"

"I was okay with that! That's what I wanted."

"You were okay being used for sex by some guy you barely even know?"

"No, not like that—"

"So then what? Because to me, it sounds like you're just a desperate slut."

You blinked. That word hit harder than you expected.

"Oh, I'm a slut?" Your voice was sharp now. "One body and I'm a slut, yet you dance around fucking anything with a pulse. You're disgusting... and easy."

"I'm disgusting and easy?" He snapped. "You let a senior fuckboy you don't even know take your virginity. It's actually sickening."

You stepped toward him, jaw clenched. "Would it have been sickening if it was you?"

Silence. His face froze, jaw locked as his eyes flickered, and he didn't say a word.

You let out a breath. "If you're so disgusted, then leave. First of all, it's none of your business who I sleep with— I don't stick my nose into yours. You've fucked girls I can't stand, and I never made it everyone's problem."

Your voice rose now. "You're my best friend— not my parent, not my boyfriend, and definitely not my mentor. So if you came here to judge me on every move I make, then you can go fuck yourself."

"Excuse me for being the only one that fucking cares about you."

You opened your mouth, but he was already tossing the takeout bag onto your bed with more force than necessary.

"Here." He muttered. "Since he couldn't even feed you."

Then he turned and the door slammed behind him.

The silence that followed felt like a vacuum, like the air had been sucked out of the room the moment the door slammed shut.

You stood there, unmoving, arms still crossed tightly around yourself. Your chest rose and fell a little too fast, like your body hadn't caught up to your brain yet.

"Desperate slut."

You could still hear it. Loud in the quiet and it hurt. God, it fucking hurt.

You sank down slowly to the edge of the bed, staring blankly at the takeout bag he'd thrown toward you. You let out a shaky breath and dropped your head into your hands.

He'd looked so angry, so betrayed, like you done something personally to him. But he wasn't your boyfriend, he never was, he never wanted to be.

So why did he get to act like this? Why did it feel like you were the one who done something wrong? You hadn't expected Haechan to stay. You hadn't expected Jaemin to explode and yet here you were, alone.

He was supposed to be your best friend.

But best friends didn't call you disgusting. Best friends didn't throw insults in your face and storm out. Best friends didn't look at you like you were less for doing something you had every right to do.

You didn't even realize you were crying until the tears hit your thighs. Silent, hot, and angry.

You swiped at them roughly, jaw tightening.

He didn't get to reduce you like that. He didn't get to decide what your choices meant, and he definitely didn't get to pretend like he was some kind of savior when all he'd ever done was hover just close enough to make you want more and then pull away every time you reached.

Some part of you still wanted him to come back. Still wanted him to knock again, to take it all back and say he was sorry.

But another part of you was done waiting on Jaemin to treat you like you mattered only when it was convenient for him. Because you didn't regret what happened.

Not the choice, not the experience, not even the consequences.

You only regretted giving someone like Jaemin the power to make you feel small.

══════════════════════════

#nct haechan smut #nct haechan #nct dream haechan #haechan x reader #haechan smut #nct dream haechan smut #nct x reader #nct smut #nct fanfic #nct dream #nct dream smut #nct dream x reader #haechan angst #haechan

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alinathinkstoomuch · 15 days ago

Text

PINK MATTER

pairing: aaron hotchner x fake!fiance!reader (she's literally just a girly!fashion!reader atp & no longer the fake fiancee lol) summary: hotch comes home and finds you passed out with a vibrator and takes matters into his own hands when you tell him you didn't finish.....gags are used, based on this & this request. warnings: smut 18+ MDNI, use of sex toys, panties used as a gag, mentions of masturbation aka r making hotch tell her what he jerks off to and he somehow manages to make it romantic, aftercare, established relationship, praise kink. word count: 2.7k

✧ masterlist | ✧ alina's 1k bar

All of Aaron’s limbs felt like they’d been replaced with concrete. Or maybe with the entire weight of the jet itself, as if the thing had disintegrated the second they stepped off it and reformed inside of him. Normally, he’d head straight home after a case, especially one that dumped him back in D.C. at such an ungodly hour.

But tonight? Your place was closer. And the only thing keeping him semi-conscious through the last of the paperwork was the image of your bed, your warm bed, with you in it, and the promise of sleeping in.

And maybe… maybe he was getting slightly used to your swanky apartment building. The one that offered cooled water, had a coffee machine in the lobby, and always smelled faintly like something expensive he couldn’t name.

The doorman gave Aaron a polite nod, they were on nodding terms now, which felt serious, but Aaron skipped the chitchat. It was the middle of the night, and unless the guy could teleport him directly into your bed, there wasn’t much to discuss.

But, as with all good things, there were downsides. The main one being your new neighbour. A woman in her late sixties who seemed lovely at first, right up until she decided to file a noise complaint after the two of you got particularly…vocal one night.

The complaint, of course, went absolutely nowhere. You’d lived there longer than she had, sent thank-you cards to building staff, never forgot any birthdays, you were the model tenant, dare he say. But still, the damage was done and now you both were on the receiving end of vicious glares that not even Aaron could match.

So, he did his best to slip inside your apartment as quietly as humanly possible, hoping not to set off either of your two living alarm systems, Gus or the neighbour with a grudge and a questionable grasp of tenant law.

The second he stepped inside, he could almost feel his stress stripping away layer by layer just by being in a place that was yours. Not to mention the way he felt something in his tummy at the thought of actually seeing you. He never thought butterflies were possible for a man his age, and yet there he was, kicking off his shoes with the urgency of a love-sick teenager.

Though once he heard the sound of paws against hardwood floor, he knew he was going to have to wait just a little longer, because he’d have to pay the inconvenience tax to your most prized possession first. (Yes, you would scold him if you heard him calling Gus anything other than your son.)

The furball plopped himself by Aaron’s go bag, knowing that when Aaron walked through the door past midnight, there was a treat–or two– in it for him. Aaron crouched down, his knees cracking in protest, and scratched Gus behind the ears. “Hi, buddy,” he whispered. “Is your mom asleep?”

He already knew the answer.

You’d sent him a flood of pictures of your night out with a few girlfriends from work, posing with fruity cocktails in various states of full. He figured you’d be passed out by now in one of his old t-shirts and a pair of false lashes on the bedside table. He stood with a grunt to grab the treat bag from the side and handed over the expected payment which Gus took to the sofa, officially losing all interest in the spare human.

Once his suit jacket was hung, he made his way to your bedroom, spotting the glow of your lamp through the cracked door. He nudged it open silently, fully expecting to find you tucked beneath the duvet fast asleep. But instead? You were sprawled on top of the covers, bare-legged and wearing his faded FBI shirt. One hand was flung overhead with your phone hanging in it and the other–

Oh.

Aaron paused in the doorway, eyebrows lifting as the scene registered. Well. That explained the last ‘when r u home?? 🥲’ text you sent.

He exhaled through his nose, lips twitching in a silent laugh he didn't fully form. You were unbelievable, utterly impatient and completely endearing. He made his way over to your side, lowering himself to gently slip the phone and vibrator out of your hands, setting both down next to your earrings on the bedside table, shaking his head in amusement.

You made an inaudible noise, your brows scrunching like your body had picked up on his presence before your brain caught on. He sat down on the edge of the bed, watching you keenly. Smiling at the way your hair was still half done from your night out, but the baby hairs had slipped free, framing your face in almost an angelic halo kind of way.

He knew better than to disturb you while you were sleeping, never wanting to wake you if he didn’t have to. But his hand reached for your thigh, to the strip of skin exposed where his shirt had ridden up on your hip. It felt almost magnetic, the urge to touch, drawn in by the spill of stretch marks across your skin, like little moonlight streaks he just had to feel.

“Mmmn…” you murmured, voice thick with sleep. “You're home.”

He smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple. “Yeah. I’m home.”

Your hand reached for him blindly, curling around his wrist as you opened your eyes. “Good,” you breathed. “Missed you.”

“I can see that,” he said, glancing towards the vibrator he’d just retired from your grip.

“Don’t judge me. You said midnight.”

Aaron let out a quiet laugh. “You fell asleep mid-attempt.”

“I was tired,” you defended, yawning mid-sentence. “Long day.”

“Sure. Looked exhausting.”

You tugged him closer by his tie. “Didn’t even finish…”

“Would you like to?”

“You’re not tired?” you asked, seeming much more awake now.

“I’m exhausted,” he said simply. “And I still want to take care of you.”

You hummed, legs rubbing together, chasing friction you weren’t even trying to be subtle about. Aaron stopped you gently, his hands gliding down to your calves as he guided your legs apart. He lifted one over his thigh, nudging the other to the side, opening you up.

He watched the way your hips shifted, pressing into the mattress, that visceral response you always had when you were worked up and needed undoing. He saw how your eyes tracked every movement he made, already wide and glassy, how your lips parted, how your ribs expanded with every breath.

He reached for the vibrator, switching it on, the room filling with a quieted buzz. He let the toy trail slowly along the inside of your thigh as he made his way up, catching the whimper that staggered in your throat, seconds away from reaching his ears.

“Remember what we spoke about?” Aaron asked, dragging the vibrator over your clothed cunt.

You tensed immediately, a moan slipping out. “Sorry, I’ll be quiet. Promise. Wouldn’t want Greta to—ah—”

Another sound tore from your throat as he pressed the toy higher, right over your clit, the thin cotton of your underwear doing very little to buffer the sensation.

“That’s not quiet.”

“Don’t think I can,” you managed just as your head tipped back against the pillow, eyes fluttering shut. “N-not with you watching.”

He was beginning to feel his slacks tighten almost painfully at the sight.

Then the toy was gone.

Your head snapped up immediately. “Aaron?”

His hands were already at your hips, fingers sliding under your underwear. “Up.”

You lifted your hips as he tugged them down and you exhaled with relief, assuming he just wanted better access. But then his other hand was under your chin, fingers curled, holding the bunched up panties in the other.

“Open,” he instructed, his thumb dragging across your bottom lip. You did exactly that, opening your mouth and granting him access to stuff the fabric inside.

“Much better now, don’t you think?”

All you could do was nod and watch the way he reached for the toy again. He lowered it between your legs, his other hand grabbing your knee. He paused just for a second, watching the way your back arched, pleading for some sort of contact.

The moment he pressed it to you, your response was immediate, mouth falling open against the panties, the cotton soaking up what was more breath than voice and he could tell that this was exactly what you’d been waiting for.

“You always get like this,” he whispered, adjusting the angle, “when I’m gone too long.”

You let out another muffled sound, hips twitching beneath his hand.

“Too worked up to wait. Try to do it yourself…but you never get all the way there, do you?”

You shook your head, thighs closing in on his hand. He didn’t scold you, just let out the smallest laugh, the kind that made your skin prickle in the best way as his hand moved to nudge your thighs open again.

He began moving the toy in circles and you felt the speed pick up.

“You’re doing so well,” he murmured, thumb brushing along your hip. “Breathe.”

He saw the way your stomach tightened, the shirt rumpling with the telltale sign of exactly how close you were. Your jaw flexed around the fabric in your mouth, blocking another sound before it could risk a second complaint.

You never took long with a toy, he figured that out early on and never minded. He wasn’t the type to take it personally. If anything, he liked it. Liked knowing what worked, liked that it was his hand making it work.

“Getting there?”

You nodded, eyes shut tight, hands fisting the sheets.

“Thought so.” He pressed it a little harder, adjusting the angle a little higher. “Go ahead, honey.”

The moment he gave you permission, your hips bucked up, the toy stuttering slightly against your skin with the movement as you squirmed, clenching around nothing. Aaron kept it pressed against your clit, despite the way you couldn't keep still, until your hands found his wrist, gently pushing it away.

He switched it off, abandoning it on the bed so his hands could return to you, one on your thigh, the other reaching up to remove the makeshift panty gag from your mouth. You watched him pull the fabric out slowly, a slick string of drool catching on your lip. Aaron wiped it away with his thumb, like it was nothing at all.

“That better?”

“Much better, thank you,” you let out a laugh, still a little breathless. “This is exactly why you can’t leave. Like, ever.”

“I’ll be sure to bring that up to Strauss the next time we have a case,” he said, lifting your thigh to kiss your knee before gently lowering it from his lap. “I’m going to take a quick shower.”

“Mmmkay,” you yawned, letting your eyes close for a second. But when they opened you caught sight of the situation happening in his pants. Your lips curled slowly. “You sure you don’t want help with that?”

Aaron laughed, undoing his tie. “You need rest.”

“I could do it lying down,” you offered sweetly. “It’s very efficient.”

“I’m going to shower,” he repeated but you swore you could make out the flush in his cheeks.

“Ah, is that code?”

He paused, halfway through unbuttoning his shirt. “Code?”

You nodded, propping yourself up on your elbows. “Code for getting off in the shower alone.”

“It’s code for needing to rinse off hours of jet sweat, and—”

“So…yes,” you cut him off with a lazy grin.

He shook his head, already heading for the bathroom.

You stretched out on the bed, far too smug for someone who’d just had her panties in her mouth and needed permission to come. “Can I watch?”

Aaron paused. Like, actually paused.

Your voice dropped, softer now, more curious. “Have you ever… touched yourself…while thinking about me?”

He turned to face you and you raised your brows. “I have,” you admitted with a shrug of your shoulders. “Did it tonight, but clearly thinking of you wasn’t enough.”

“Yes.”

Your lips parted, a pleased smile tugging at the corner. “Yeah? What do you think about?”

He exhaled slowly and you could practically see the debate happening in his head. You just gave him your best lazy, post orgasm smile, like this was just casual pillow talk.

“You really want to know?”

“I would do unspeakable things to know.”

He came back to the bed, settling beside you again. “Sometimes I think about your thighs. How they feel when you wrap them around my waist when you want me deeper, like you’re trying to keep me there forever. Or the way they twitch… not when you come, but just after.”

You swallowed, mouth suddenly dry.

“I think about your voice,” he went on, eyes fixed on your face. “Not the moaning, not what most people would imagine. I think about the way your voice trembles before you say my name, like your body’s surprised by how much it needs it.”

He paused, his eyes drifting to your hands.

“I think about the way your fingers shake when you undo your jeans for me,” he added. “You try to hide it. You always look me dead in the eye like you're so calm… but your hands always give you away.”

You felt suddenly exposed, and yet cherished. He had been watching, really watching, like every part of you was something worth remembering.

“But there’s one thing you do and you probably don’t even realise.”

“What is it?”

“You laugh.”

“I–what?”

“After you finish, you let out this laugh. Like you’re embarrassed by how much you felt, or like it surprised you, or like it snuck up on you and now you’re overwhelmed and happy and trying not to show it.”

“I do not laugh,” you tried to argue.

He let out a breath of air, a laugh of his own. “Trust me, sweetheart, you do. Because it's exactly what I think about to finish.”

You furrowed your brows, completely taken back by his casualness. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not,” he replied, still smiling. “You wouldn’t notice it. But I do.”

“And that’s really what you think about? Out of everything?”

He nodded, hands reaching for your ankles, pulling them back on his lap again.

“Why?”

“Because it means I gave you something.” His thumbs stroked lazily over your skin as he answered. “Something that made you feel so much it had to come out somehow.”

You didn’t know what to say, your chest felt too full and your throat too tight. So you flopped back onto the bed with a dramatic groan, grabbing the nearest pillow and pressing it over your face, mostly to muffle the ridiculous, overwhelmed noise clawing its way out of your throat. Equal parts sob, squeal, and scream.

“Jesus Christ,” you muttered into the pillow. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“You asked.”

You lifted the pillow just enough to peek at him, your face hot and burning. “Yes. Because I thought the answer would be something like my ass in denim shorts. Or when I wear that pink push-up bra.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” he said smoothly. “Those rank very high.”

“How high?”

He leaned forward, his hands sliding up the backs of your thighs “Top five.”

“Five?” you gasped. “My ass in denim shorts is five?”

“Baby,” he murmured, hands sliding higher, “you have so many top-five moments, I had to get creative with categories.”

Before you could ask what those were, his hands reached and squeezed your bare ass, a laugh tumbling out of you without warning.

His eyes flicked up to yours instantly. “There it is.”

You froze. “No.”

He grinned. “Don’t deny it.”

“That wasn’t the laugh.”

“It was close enough,” he argued, hands wrapping around your lower back as he pulled you into his lap. You landed there with a gasp, knees straddling his thighs. “Don’t worry. I’ll get the real one out of you again soon.”

“Yeah?” you asked, hands snaking around his neck. “Think the shower needs to hear it, don't you?”

“Oh, absolutely the shower needs to hear it,” he agreed, standing with you in his arms. “So does the wall. And the mirror. And probably the floor.”

“Oof, sounds like it's going to be a long night then.”

tags - @fandomscombine @pastelpinkflowerlife @hazzyking @bernelflo @risenqueen1521 @jazzimac1967 @camihotchner @abschaffer2 @ill-be-okay-soon-enough @pacmillo-blog-blog @stilestotherescue @kiwriteswords @anvdala @supersanelyromantic @yourallaround-simp @percysley @wowitsafemale @cinnamoncunt @keiminds @iyskgd @mystic-rox @insured-by-the-mafia @mggslover @Star-crossed-Sephie @tearykth @2dloveshp @lovelystrawberry @imissaaronhotchner @justyourusualash @alexxavicry @storiesofsvu @ehedrick012110 @hopelessromantic727 @piatosniathenie @averyhotchner @softtdaisy @b1tchyr1ichy @wvffles @thehotchners @tinythebunni @violettablackwood @yasministration

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i-like-loserz · 7 months ago

Text

mommy & daddy

synopsis: you come home from a girl's night out feeling extra needy for your boyfriend

pairing: san x afab!reader

warnings: SMUT, tipsy!reader, dom!san, unprotected sex, breeding kink, cockwarming, size kink, usage of mommy/daddy, choking, pet-names, degrading words (slut, whore), hair-pulling, somnophilia elements at the end (but it's sweet)

word count: 2.7k

masterlist

Calming classical music hums in the background as his eyes scan down the page. His slightly calloused fingers idly rub at the folded corner at the top of the book, gently smoothing it out before bending it once more. His motion to flip to the next page is interrupted by the muffled sound of jingling keys and the creak of the front door opening.

San looks up from his book and spots you as you walk in, coat and purse hanging over your arm with your heels in hand. His eyes darken as you hang up your coat, appreciating the little outfit you went out in.

“Hey, sweetheart.” His husky voice rumbles through the room, deep and luxurious, dripping from his lips like molten chocolate.

When you turn around, your eyes find him under the soft glow of the reading lamp. He looks so handsome in the armchair, sitting so magnetically with his legs invitingly spread open.

“…Hi, Sannie.” You say sweetly, already enamored by his stupidly gorgeous face. You place your bag on the counter behind you before shuffling over to him with bashful steps. San can tell by the adorable flush on your cheeks that you’ve had a few drinks already.

An amused smirk rests on his lips as you innocently approach him with a certain sway in your hips. Obviously you have something on your mind.

His smile reveals those adorable dimples that have your eyes glazed with lust and lips bitten to a delicious shade of pink. Based on your obedient silence, you’re already halfway there for him.

He’s noticed that you get especially needy when you’re drunk. Something about your fruity cocktails pushes you to give in to every shielded thought and desire – to give into him without hesitation.

Usually you’re shy when it comes to sex, rarely initiating anything without a little bit of help, but god it spurs him on when you try.

—

“Have a good time?”

You hum dreamily as you climb onto his lap, feeling small as you wrap your arms around his neck to pull you on top of him.

You’ve always had an insatiable appetite for your boyfriend, but after the few cocktails you treated yourself to this evening, your body indecently craves him. Thoughts of his hand wrapped around your neck as he ruts into you have been streaming through your mind all night.

You need to feel him stretching you out as he presses your thighs to your chest, locking you in a mating press to force you to feel all of him slipping into you. You need to feel the warmth of him filling you up when he’s done, marking you as his before watching it all drip out between your hot bodies.

Your hands brush over his jaw as you cradle his face, eyes locked on the small smile quirked at the corners of his mouth.

“You look real pretty in this dress, sweetheart.” His voice is low as his thumb lightly skims over the warm skin of your thigh. You attempt to pull him in by his neck, eyes fluttering closed as you anticipate a kiss, but he pulls away before your lips could meet. San’s head tilts to the side teasingly, expression feigning ignorance. “What do you think you’re doing, baby?”

You can only stare back as the heat of embarrassment pricks at the back of your neck.

“Wha–I just want a kiss…” You mumble, shifting your body to nuzzle deeper into his warmth. You try again, this time trailing soft kisses up his neck and over his jaw. But once again, as soon as your lips start to graze his, he pulls back with a glimmer in his eyes.

Your eyebrows furrow in frustration, “Sannie!”

You can feel the warmth of his breath tease at the sensitive skin of your throat.

“You're drunk, baby, I can’t take advantage of you like this…” His actions contradict his whispered words as he plants a few sparse kisses along your collarbone.

“No, please, I’m not! Just two drinks, daddy. I promise.” His breathing gets heavier when you whine out his special name and you feel the air change between you.

You desperately grab at his wrists, attempting to entice him by placing his hands on your hips, but he barely reacts and lets them fall to his side.

Fine, you’ll have to take this into your own hands.

“I want you to, uhm,” Your tongue glides over your bottom lip as your eyes nervously wander down over his chest, “be inside of me—please.”

“And why would I do that, sweet girl?”

You sputter, not expecting him to show any resistance, especially because of the way he’s been looking at you for the last ten minutes.

“I need you...” There’s an intensity in your eyes that he has rarely seen, there’s something you've been keeping from him. Something you need.

He decides to push you a little harder, and figure out exactly what it is.

He pushes a large hand up your thighs and under your dress. The fabric bunches against his wrist as he feels over your stomach and squeezes over your tits.

“What’s making my little baby act all pathetic and needy, hm?”

You cower under his arrogant stare as your cunt pulses at his degrading words. You lean into him as his thumb swipes over your hardened nub, trembling as he sends jolts of pleasure to your center.

An eyebrow lifts with impatience as he captures your nipple in between his fingers and gives it a harsh pinch, “Spit it out.”

“I-I want you to fill me up, daddy.” He hums in response, letting go of your bud to soothe it with his thumb. Your breath stutters when you feel the roughness of his hand drag over your chest to caress your other tit. With a quieter voice you continue, “Want you to make me a mommy…”

There’s an instant tightness in his pants as his cock twitches excitedly against the material. How can he refuse an offer like that?

He could only imagine how you’d look all swollen and soft–for his eyes only. It’s no secret that San wants to fuck a baby into you, but you’ve never specifically asked for it before. Not like this.

He runs his nails down the softness of your stomach, watching as your back arches against his touch. He nuzzles his face into your covered chest as it’s pushed against him, breathing in your mouth-watering scent.

His erection pulses against your butt as he imagines how big they’ll get, all leaky and tender as your body adjusts to feed his baby. You sigh as he dots small nips over your exposed skin, pausing to suck at the edge of your jaw until you start whimpering.

His hand lightly skims over your hips before dipping into your panties. He groans at the feeling, “Such a naughty little pussy, mommy.” Your eyes threaten to roll to the back of your head when you hear the name drip from his tongue. Your walls clench around nothing, sending another flood of slick over his hand. “Slutty little girl, soaking my fingers just at the thought of being bred.”

You can hear the squelching noise of your wet heat as he dips into you. He plunges his fingers deep inside of you, hitting your sweet spot with thrusts that are too gentle to even start to placate you.

He pulls his fingers out and spreads your slick over your folds, uncaring of the way it drips down your thighs, his pants, and the seat of the armchair.

“You’re making a damn mess, baby. Gonna ruin my pants.” A firm press to your pulsing clit makes you jolt in surprise, body already hypersensitized from his touch.

He slowly slips his hand out of your underwear, watching as his fingers trail slick along with them. He traces over your lips with the glistening fingertips, admiring your mouth as he spreads your heat over your face.

“Open up.” San lets out a growled sigh as your lips obediently wrap around his fingers, sucking in the heady taste of your lust.

You roll your hips over him, feeling the thickness of his cock straining under his pants. You whimper around his fingers as you angle yourself to nudge perfectly against your clit, hips speeding up as heat quickly begins to build in your stomach.

You’re beautiful as you work yourself over him, tongue cleaning up your mess as you rut your covered cunt against him.

His hand drops from your lips, shiny with spit, to firmly grip your jaw and pull you in. His nose briefly bumps into you before he smashes his lips against yours. You respond instantly, kissing him with desperation, lips easily slotting against his.

The sweetness of your fruity cocktails meet his spiced whiskey as your tongues glide against each other. The kiss draws your breath away from its immediate intensity as you move sloppily to taste each other as deeply as possible.

When you pull away for a short breath, he pushes you down his lap to shove his clothes off, making haste to unbutton and discard his pants and boxers in one go.

He takes a bit more time to shuck off his shirt, making you watch patiently as his perfectly sculpted body is exposed to the room. He’s built like a god, muscular and lithe. You’d spend the rest of your life worshiping his body with faint touches and kisses if you could.

His breath is labored, chest rising deeply under you as his cock rests against his toned stomach, throbbing handsomely under your hungry gaze. Your mouth waters and you’re sure you’ve never wanted to taste something more.

But before you can crawl off his lap to kneel under him, he pulls you back over him with a hand on your waist before capturing your mouth with another kiss.

You rest your weight on his bare lap, savoring the feeling of his body heat against yours. You finally feel him start to melt against you, kiss you back with just as much fervor and love.

His tongue teasingly runs over the edge of your bottom lip, trailing a line over the delicate skin before pushing further against your mouth. He boldly licks into your mouth to taste you, tickling the roof of your mouth before laving passionately against yours.

You drag your hips over his lap, barely covered, and press flush against his hard cock. You can feel him throbbing under you, insistently pressing against the wetness of your panties.

His hands tighten around your waist when you run your nails over his broad chest and up the back of his neck, tenderly threading them through his hair.

With a swift motion, he shoves the top of your dress down enough to bare your chest to him. You tug feverishly on the ends of his hair as he dips down to lave his tongue against your puckered nipple. The wet heat of his lips captures your bud and suckles harshly until your back arches in ecstasy.

You shove your underwear to the side and position him at your entrance, stroking his tip through your dripping folds to get him nice and slick. Slowly, you sit yourself on his cock, gasping at the feeling of him stretching you open. “Mm…San-“

You yelp as his hand comes up behind you and grips your hair, roughly pulling your head back with a quick tug, “Hm…What was that?” His voice is gruff as your body trembles over him, legs shaking as you struggle to take all of him in one go.

“D-Daddy.”

“That's what I thought.” Your cunt is already fluttering around him as you preen at how full you feel. As his grip loosens, you experimentally start to roll against him, letting your cunt try to suck him in as you rise before pushing back down on him with a quick drop of your hips.

He feels so good in this position, nudging right against your g-spot with every bounce of your ass. You ride him slowly and delicately, legs already shaking from the intensity of having him buried inside of you. Your hands grip harshly over his shoulders as you’re forced to stutter out every breath with each drag of his cock. He’s just so big.

Quiet moans spill from your lips as you attempt to speed up. Your eyes squeeze shut as you desperately try to chase the heat bubbling up in your stomach.

Another tug to your hair makes your hips stutter, but the pain is washed out by the exquisite feeling of his cock prodding against the deepest part of you.

You gently open your eyes and he’s staring right back, gaze half-lidded as he watches you ride him. You hold the stare as you continue to grind against him, admiring the way his body tenses as he tries to control himself.

You whine as the slick sound of your connection fills the living room, “Ahh–I need your cum, daddy.”

Suddenly, his hand moves to wrap around your neck, squeezing just enough to make you squeal as he roughly shoves his hips upward to bury himself even deeper inside of you. A pathetic moan is pounded out of you as he pushes you harder onto his cock.

“Fuck—you want me to put a baby in you? Y’wanna be a mommy, hm?” Your hands wrap around his wrist as he continues to hold you by the neck, partially using it for support as your back arches to alter the angle of his thrusts.

“Please—“ You choke back a sob as he starts to vigorously pound up into you, hitting a breathless spot in you until you go boneless. Your vision blurs as your eyes well up with tears at the intensity, “—Ahhh”

His jaw is clenched tight as he watches you lose control above him, “like that baby? You gonna cum for me?”

Your mind is frantic as you rapidly reach the edge, “Yes daddy, please, breed me…make me yours.” Your voice rasps out as his grip tightens, throat struggling to swallow down breaths.

Built up tears spill down your face as warmth spreads over your body from your center. All your senses numb as your body is slammed with pleasure and stimulation. You vaguely feel the warmth of his body against yours as you tremble over him.

San lets out a strangled groan as you flutter around him, his cock pulsates against your walls as you fall apart. Your cunt milks every drop of him as he fucks a few more thrusts up into your tired body. You hum as he comes down from his high, soothing a hand over his bare chest as he softens inside of you.

—

You slouch over him, snuggling your face into the crook of his neck as your breaths slow down. He’s still inside of you as he patiently waits for you to fall asleep. He holds you protectively against him, chest against yours, running a hand over your mussed hair and sweat-sticked neck.

He carefully picks you up with your arms wrapped around his shoulders and walks to your bedroom, leaving the pile of clothes in the living room to clean up tomorrow. He turns on his bedside lamp after he delicately places you on the bed, lighting the room with a soft glow.

San fully removes your dress and sticky panties to make you more comfortable as you sleep, ensuring to go slow so you don’t wake up. He lovingly pushes your hair out of your face as you snooze peacefully over the covers, caressing your cheek with the pad of his thumb.

With a soft sigh, you push your face further into the pillow and stretch your legs out. He doesn’t mean to look, but he notices that you’re dripping onto the sheets, leaving a dark mark of slickened material under your legs.

With a gentle motion, he pushes your legs apart and gingerly brushes two fingers against you, collecting the leaking cum before pushing it back in. You moan at his tender touch, legs squeezing around him as you unconsciously whine for more.

He ignores your wanton reaction and pulls his hand away. He slides into bed behind you with a sigh and reaches over to place his hand protectively against your stomach.

Gently, he nudges his nose against the back of your neck and whispers against your skin, “You’re gonna be the best mommy, sweetheart.”

He can only hope you meant what you said because it really is his dream.

Sometime during the night, your smaller hand finds its way over his, cradling instinctively over your stomach.

#san x reader #choi san x reader #san choi x reader #san smut #choi san smut #san choi smut #ateez smut #san x y/n #san x you

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jarofstyles · 1 month ago

Text

Worshiped

Who doesn’t love a simp-y Harry? I’ve been in a kick lately of writing him but this is next level. He loves his girl and does not play about her!

Check out our Patreon for early access to almost 300 exclusive writings and series!

WC- 4k

Warnings- smut, soft dom!H but some switch vibes, praise kink, spit play, unprotected sex (wrap it up), slight pain kink on his end, oral, etc

With her standing there in the dress he had bought her, he found himself thoroughly distracted by the way the fabric hugged her body. A body he had no idea how whoever was the creator of life itself managed to sculpt, because just being able to see it was a gift from the gods. His hands traced her silhouette, starting from her shoulders and slowly moving down her arms, then around to her waist.

"Fuck me, Angel…." His lips muttered softly, more to himself than to her. "You have no idea how stunning you are, do you?" Thumbs gently traced the waistline of the dress, admiration clear in his voice. It would be hard for her to forget with how often he tried to remind her, but he still did wonder if she ever truly got it. If she could fathom how insanely other worldly she was.

The soft glow of the bedside lamp cast a warm, golden hue over the room, highlighting her in a different way than the rest of the night had. The candlelight in the restaurant had been incredible to see her in, but this was special.. Any difference if lighting had him appreciating her in a different way, but something about the glow of their bedroom, the most intimate place of the house had him feeling it tenfold.

Harry lingered behind her, unashamed as he allowed his ring clad hands to slowly explore the dips of her body. Y/N was a masterpiece he couldn't get enough of, as if someone had dipped their paintbrush into the depths of his foggy brain and brought his ideal to life. Nimble fingers traced the delicate lace detailing on the bodice of the lavender dress, feeling the soft fabric breathe heat against her skin. He leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to the back of her neck, grinning to himself as he felt her shiver at the touch.

"I need this off you, please." Returning to her shoulders, he made work of slowly pushing the delicate straps down her arms. As the fabric fell away, exposing her bare décolletage, he let out a soft puff of a breath against her hair. “You are… Unreal.” His words were quiet, but he knew she could hear them over the sound of the fabric being dragged down her form. In his mind, it was in the top five sounds he could hear from her, right underneath the breathy moan of his name and slightly above the little gasp she made when he smacked her ass.

Y/N simply stood there, letting him remove the dress completely until she was standing before him stripped bare. The dress fell from her body and onto the floor with a soft whisper, allowing Harry a moment to truly appreciate the view before him. Her body was like a damn map that he had become all too familiar with but wanted to study every day so he never had the opportunity to forget. The dip in her lower back that he loved to kiss. The waist that his hands loved to grasp. The pretty ass that he had smacked more times than he could count. Her long legs and those thighs that had his mouth watering, he had a hard time keeping it together. Her stomach, soft and sensitive every time he kissed it. Her breasts were made for his palms and nipples perfect to pinch. He loved her body. He loved her body. every single part of her called to the base level of his attraction. He couldn't help himself.

Harry had always been a man who appreciated a woman's body, but the higher power had truly outdone herself with Y/N's.

It was hard to not love her body. Especially when it fit every part of him like a puzzle piece. He loved how it was soft where he was hard- How it was round where he was angular. He had a hard time getting over the dip in her waist and how his large hands could span it. God, did he adore her thighs and how they felt wrapped around his waist. Sometimes his favorite was the curve of her ass and how it fit up against him when he bottomed out inside of her- but he was careful to choose favorites when he had so many. She was made out of a fantasy he hadn’t been creative enough to conjure up himself, only able to fathom it in front of his own eyes.

She let out a small hum, shivering slightly as his eyes worshipped her body. Y/N knew he loved looking at her naked. He was almost like an artist, taking his time to study every little thing. She trusted him implicitly with her body, so when she felt him press against her back, she automatically leaned back into him, letting her body mold against his like it always did. Her bottom pushed back against his crotch, making him grunt softly. Her head fell back against his chest, baring her neck to him.

"Fucking beautiful." The man murmured against her skin, his voice husky as it remained quiet. His hand palmed her breast, his fingers splaying out to cover as much of her soft flesh as possible. It was selfish of him to want to be all over her, but it’s all he wanted. Really, it felt like a need to have his hands touching every inch of her even if it wasn’t fully possible. Kneading the soft mound of her breast, his thumb brushed over her hardening nipple with a soft coo. Feeling her react was a privilege he didn’t take lightly. His other hand wrapped around her waist, keeping her flush against him. Nuzzling himself into the crook of her neck, he pressed open-mouthed kisses to her sensitive skin.

"God, you're gorgeous. Can’t get over it.” He whispered against her, his touch soft and slow. His fingers gently pinched her nipple, making her arch back against him with a soft whining sound leaving her swollen lips. "Look at you. My gorgeous girl…" The man murmured, taking her in. "You're a damn goddess. Every inch of you is made to be worshipped. N’I’m your main follower." His lips found the particular spot she liked underneath her ear, letting his tongue brush it before sucking softly on the skin. "Y’know I'm obsessed with you, yeah baby? Like dangerously obsessed?"

Y/N could feel his obsession in every touch, in every whispered word. She loved how he worshipped her and how he always made her feel cherished. Most of all, she loved how he talked to her like she was the most precious thing in the world to him. She loved his hands on her nearly all the time, like he couldn’t help but touch her- and how he always made her feel protected, honored. Even when he was filthy, in the depths of their passion, Harry had no issue with making her feel worshiped. She turned her head to the side, allowing him better access to her neck as she whispered back "You are. I love it."

It was the truth. Y/N had wondered if someday, someone would be able to match the amount of passion she knew she could bring into a relationship. It was hard to imagine someone feeling so intensely in the way that she did, but she had met her match when Harry had waltzed into her life.

"You love it?" he murmured against her skin, a coo of pleasure in his voice. He nipped at her spot to make her squirm a little in his arms, soothing the small sting with his tongue. "You love how fucking obsessed I am with you, my perfect girl?" His hand slid down her stomach, his fingers splaying out possessively. "You love how I can't keep my hands off you? How m’always touching you, kissing you, fucking you until I break? Because that’s what y’do to me. Ruined and saved me all at the same time.” He was waxing on and he knew it, but it was only her right to know how twisted up she managed to get him. “All I can think about is how much I love you,I spend my days dreaming about you. S’that make you happy?"

"Yes." The word came out breathy and needy as he continued to run his hands south. "I love how you can't keep your hands off me. I love how you make me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world every single day." She met his eyes in the mirror as she continued in the whisper, despite there being no need to keep the volume low. The intimacy of it all had it cocooning them in their own personal bubble.. "I love how you speak to me like I'm your own personal heaven."

"Oh, but darling… You are." Harry groaned, his hand sliding between her legs to get a taste of it. "My own personal fucking heaven. If I’ve died n’this is where I end up, I don’t want anyone t’bring me back. I want to live here." The words were murmured against her neck, his fingers finding her wet and ready for him between her sacred thighs. "So sweet and so fuckin’ mine," he praised, his touch gentle and calculated as he pet her, making her gasp. "You're my everything, Y/N. My love, my life, my whole fucking world." His other hand came up to cup her breast, rolling her nipple between his thumb and forefinger again to get her to let out one of those pretty noises again.

"My beautiful girl," He crooned, his damp fingers slipping through her slick folds, parting her gently. "My precious, precious love…" His fingers found her sensitive bud, circling it slowly and feeling her pulse against his fingertips. Having the key to his pleasure in the palm of his hand was a gift he wasn’t going to waste. "What am I going to do with you, hm? How should I spend my night ensuring you know just how much you make me feel?”

His fingers continued their maddeningly slow circles around her clit, teasing her mercilessly. "Tell me," he spoke, his voice a low rumble against her ear, "Do you want me to fuck this sweet cunt until you're screaming my name? Or should I worship it with my mouth until you're dripping down my chin, begging for my cock?" His other hand tweaked her nipple sharply, sending a jolt of pleasure through her. "How should I show my goddess that she's worshipped?"

"Both," Y/N gasped breathlessly, her body arching into his touch. "Fuck, please..." Her eyes fluttered closed briefly before catching his gaze in the mirror again. "I want... I want your mouth first. Make a mess on your face. I want to watch you worship me." Her hips rolled forward, pressing against his fingers that were still teasing her clit. "Then... God, then fuck me into the mattress." She was already panting, her body completely pliant against his. Even if he held the physical power, he would bend at the knee for her. His girl was the one in charge.

"Knew you'd be a greedy little thing today. S’a good thing I love fulfilling all your desires." He loved how she wasn't shy about telling him what she wanted. She knew exactly what she liked and how to ask for it, and it made his job of giving it to her a million times easier. "On the bed, then. I’ve missed that cunt. Show it off for me." He removed his hands from her body, albeit a challenge, giving her a gentle pat on the bottom to urge her forward.

Y/N's legs shook slightly as she moved towards the bed, feeling the familiar adrenaline light her up. It was hard not to feel on the good side of the edge knowing she had a man who never, ever failed on delivering what he promised. Once she was standing next to the bed, she slowly climbed on her knees, gripping the duvet with both hands. She looked back over her shoulder at him, her eyes burning with need. "Like this?" She asked hoarsely, spreading her legs wider to expose her glistening cunt to him.

Harry's gaze was riveted to the sight before him. his love, on her knees, bare and open for him. The sight was exquisite. he couldn’t believe how perfect she was. “Yeah, I love you like that. Fucking stunning.” He murmured as he slowly crept closer to her, crawling onto the bed. His large hands gripped her ample ass, his thumbs spreading her wide for his own inspection. “S’My favorite view.”

Harry couldn’t deny that it filled him with a sense of pride to see evidence of her arousal like this. He pushed his fingers through her messy slit, spreading her juices around. The sound of wet, squelching noises filled the room as he touched her, making her whimper softly. "God woman, you're so fucking wet." He muttered, dragging his fingers back and forth through her dripping cunt. It would almost sound like he was pissed but he was anything but. He was aroused, more than ever.

"Look at me." He commanded, his voice deep and authoritative as he continued to spread her juices around her slick cunt. She immediately turned her head to look back at him over her shoulder, her eyes glassy with need. Without breaking eye contact, Harry leaned down and spat directly onto her cunt, the warm liquid mingling with her own arousal. "So fucking filthy," he growled, using his fingers to massage the saliva into her folds. "Just like my girl should be."

Y/N felt slightly lightheaded at the view, the feeling, all of it. As filthy as he claimed for her to be, he was her perfect match. He knew how to make her crazy because he was just as insane. He brought his spit covered fingers up to her mouth, pressing them against her lips. "Taste yourself." Harry ordered. "Taste how fucking wet you get for me. How your cunt cries for me." He held his fingers there, not moving, waiting for her to open up and take them inside. "Go on, baby. Show me how you clean my fingers."

She parted her lips obediently, taking the digits into her mouth. Humming softly, the taste of her arousal sending a fresh wave of heat through her core. It was very dirty, something she wouldn’t have ever thought of liking before, but Harry had managed to open her up to all sorts of things she never thought she would like. Being spit on and cleaning off her taste off his fingers was one of them. As she sucked his fingers clean, she maintained eye contact, her gaze smoldering with lust and obedience because she knew what it did to him. Playing with fire? Perhaps. But Harry would give her what she wanted. After a long moment, she released his fingers with a soft pop, a string of saliva connecting her lips to his digits for a brief second before breaking.

"Fuck, I love you." It was a strange time to declare it but seeing her do that stuff had him feeling every sort of insane that he ever could. He couldn’t get enough of how she tasted, how she looked on her knees, how she whimpered and begged when he touched her. Slipping his wet fingers back into her cunt, he let out as he moved where he wanted to be- with his mouth right on her. as he buried his face between her thighs, his long fingers curling up to hit that spot inside her that drove her wild and had her humping back to chase the feeling. "My filthy, perfect girl," he mumbled against her flesh, his hot breath making her shudder. "Spread wider f’me, baby. Let me in." He demanded, pushing her thighs further apart to give himself better access.

Finding her clit with his lips, Harry latched onto the sensitive bud and sucked hard, letting his tongue flick over it. Her taste coated on his tongue and he groaned in pleasure, the vibrations sending waves of ecstasy through her. His arm wrapped around her hips, pulling her cunt closer to his eager mouth as he devoured her like a starving man presented with a feast- his favorite meal. "Fuck, you taste divine." he murmured before sucking her clit back into his mouth eagerly. Harry had tasted plenty of people before and as cliche as it most definitely sounded, Y/N was by far the best he ever had. He could spend days here and not get tired, wear her on his skin if it was appropriate.

"Oh my fucking God," she whimpered, her hips bucking forward as she pressed against his face. Her fingers tangled in his hair as she reached behind to grab him, holding him exactly where she wanted him. "Right there, baby... just like that..." Her voice was breathy and urgent, completely lost in the sensation of his tongue against her sensitive nerves. She could feel every suck, every flick sending jolts of pleasure through her entire body. It was so hot having a man who wanted to make her feel good, but knowing he got off on it too? Hearing his groans and moans and feeling them vibrate against her? That was a whole other level.

"Harry..." She gasped, spreading her legs wider for him, because fuck, what wouldn’t she do for him in this position? " Holy shit." Her back arched slightly as he continued to suck her clit like it was his favorite candy. "Baby, wait..." She tugged lightly on his hair, her thighs tensing around his face. "You're- You're too good at this..." The whimper was lost as his fingers slid back inside her hole, curving up to hit that sweet spot again. "Oh my God." Her inner muscles clenched around his digits.

Y/N was getting close, he could feel it in the way her legs trembled and her cunt clenched around his fingers. But suddenly, she pulled him away, panting heavily. "Wait, wait.” she gasped, turning around to face him. "I need your cock, Harry. I need you inside me right now." Her eyes were wild with desire, her chest heaving with every breath. "Please, baby. Fuck me."

He wasn’t sure why she didn’t want to finish on his face this time around, but he wasn’t ever going to say no to being inside of her.

"With pleasure." He growled, quickly unbuckling his belt and pushing his pants down. His hard cock sprang free, already leaking precum. Like she was weightless, there was no hesitation in grabbing her hips and flipped her onto her back, settling between her spread thighs.

The days at the gym spent specifically to be able to toss her around were proving to be very successful, and Y/N made a mental note to test some of that out later.

"You want my cock, baby?" He asked, teasing her entrance with the head of his dick. "You want me to fill you up?" He leaned down to kiss her deeply, silencing the moaned response she gave. He knew what she wanted- that was his job.

With a deep groan against her mouth, his hips pushed forward, sliding his thick dick deep into her. He panted into her mouth as her walls stretched to accommodate him, wrapping around his shaft like a vice. "There we go. S’perfect. M’home." he mumbled against her lips, beginning to move his hips in a steady rhythm. It may be very cliche, cheesy to say, but nothing made him feel as at home as being close to her did. Nothing. He pulled back until just the tip remained inside, then pushed heavily back in, skin colliding with a solid thud.

"Ahh- fuck. Harry…" She cried out, her back arching off the bed as he filled her completely. Her nails dug into his toned back, sure to make the marks he loved as she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper.

He set a slow, sensual pace, angling his hips to bury himself as deep as possible with each thrust. Harry wanted to feel every inch of her gripping his cock, each deliberate movement dragged his shaft along her inner ridges, have her feel it just as much. They were made for each other just based on how she took him and he wanted to remind her each and every time. "Feel that, baby?" He purred, his breath hot against her ear. "Feel how deep m’getting? Claiming every fucking inch of this perfect cunt."

He made love to her slowly, his touch everywhere as he adored her body. His thick hands roamed over her, his calloused fingers tracing her soft skin. "My beautiful girl," he murmured, kissing down her neck as he continued to fill her completely as she clung to him. "My precious, precious love..." His touch was soft and gentle the best he could, his movements slow and deep, taking his damn time with her. Every single time he got to be with her in this way was one he cherished, but it was hard to pound into her when he felt overcome with how much he loved the woman. "My treasure..." He whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "My heaven...S’what you are.”

There had been no exaggeration on his end. Being inside of her, being close to her was what he considered perfection. Getting to have the woman he would have only ever dreamt about in his physical hands, feeling the heat of her skin on his palms and the pleasure of her wrapped around him like a lock to a key, it was unreal to him at times. Waking up to her face or her voice, getting to be the one she loved was everything he could have asked for.

"You're my everything," he breathed, his pace unhurried yet intense. Each thrust was deliberate, designed to hit that spot deep inside her that made her eyes roll back. All he wanted was for his sweet angel to feel good. His thumb brushed gentle circles over her clit in time with his movements, his touch light. "I worship you." The man confessed, voice hitching as she squeezed around him. "Your body... your heart... your fucking soul." He leaned down to capture her mouth in a deep, loving kiss, swallowing her whimpers and moans.

"You're the best thing that's ever happened to me," he murmured against her lips. His eyes met hers, burning with an intense, adoring gaze. The longer he was with her, the more the fire was stoked. He was engulfed in the flames of her but he never felt it burn. Only the most comfortable warmth someone could ever imagine.

"I was a lost, broken man before I met you. But you... you put me back together. You made me whole again." His movements were slow and deliberate, each thrust meant to draw out their pleasure as long as possible. They were both too close and he knew it, but this wasn’t the end of their night. It was only the beginning. Burying himself deep inside her, his hips grinding against hers as he felt the nails dig into his back and her mouth open to whimper his name, he let out a breathless laugh as she lost herself on his cock. "Yeah- that’s what I want, baby. Let go on me. Give me everything, and M’gonna give it right back.” It was what he was meant to do. Harry didn’t know before Y/N, but he sure as hell knew now. “You're my redemption, my salvation, my fucking everything. M’gonna spend my whole life showing it"

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