#his bright smile makes me feel things | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

taegularities · 3 months ago

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meraki | jjk (m)

MERAKI (v., Greek). "to do something with soul, creativity, or love; to put something of yourself in your work." Summary: Jungkook finds you irritating; far too energetic and insistent. But his perception of you changes bit by bit, minute by minute, when he's persuaded into spending an entire night with you at places he doesn't know.

➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: e2l, grumpy!jk (+ photographer!jk) x sunshine!reader; fluff, smut ➳ warnings: bickering, bantering, jk is a bit rude at the beginning, flirting, tension, oc is bold and courageous, mention of someone being stoned, mention of insomnia, jk's lip rings <3, heights, not exactly e2l but more like "i find you pretty annoying" to lovers lmao, deep talks and sweet moments, one bed trope, guest appearance, jk takes pictures of pretty things, stars and sky talk <3, explicit sexual content: kissing/making out, implied pain kink? lol, fingering, manhandling, oral (f. & m. receiving), teasing, 69, spitting, one or two spanks, bit of choking, soft and hard sex, unprotected sex (oc has an iud), soft dom!jk but also glimpses of sub!jk, ofc biiiig dick!jk, doggy/riding/missionary, praises, more flirting, jk's godly body, masturbation, cum swallowing (he comes in her mouth); the lovely ending <3 ➳ word count: 26.6k <3 ➳ a/n: you guys built this fic!! 🥺 hopefully this is what we expected it to be. it's also yet another love letter to one of the gentlest men i know; happy birthday, jeon jungkook, you're the standard and i will never fall out of love with you 💕 i hope y'all enjoy it!! come and talk to me when you're done mwah <3

TAGLIST | MASTERLIST | WIPs

1:04AM, Her

There’s a word for how you do what you do.

A term you hold dearly in the crevices of your bright heart. Ever since you first learned its meaning two decades ago, you’ve made it your primary goal to breathe through life with it as your philosophy.

Passion, it is. A word certainly common in conversation and daily life — you’re not the only person to live by it. Doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to wallow in it.

Because there’s a fire behind your hard-working chest, lit up, pride residing next to it. It’s where you feel the most vivid light when you do what you love, blooming and blossoming. There are synonyms of it you know, and each of them are pretty as a growing garden.

You gatekeep them for now; haven’t yet found a person to share your knowledge with. Which is okay; in the meantime, you’ll keep looking. You do think everybody needs something like this in their lives.

Something that forces your body upright, sprinkling fairy dust and glimmer into your eyes. Something you can resort to in order to escape the trials of life.

For you, as odd it may seem to people, it’s your job.

You usually work late like today, surrounded by sounds and disquiet. But you enjoy it. You like stepping into the night afterwards, and you like the dark blanket above, the starlight sprinkled across the comforting blackness.

And you like it when it drizzles sometimes. The giggles of couples or groups of friends as they wade through the rain. The absolute quiet and relieving serenity.

You live for this. You enjoy people. You enjoy sensing life around you.

Tonight isn’t different. Even when you find yourself hastening by the end, wrapping up the event with a dozen chores to tackle; even when the host rushes to you, asking for help. Your shoes click-clack across the floor as you move left and right, up and down.

But by God, you never doubt these days’ worth.

1:04AM, Him

Sometimes, people don’t want to be photographed.

Jungkook learned that early on when he agreed to be a photographer at events. He’s encouraged and urged to ask people to pose; that’s his job. Waiting for them to force a smile before they can resume eating, debone their fish or work on their lobsters, beef, veggies.

They long to return to whatever they were doing, or to their conversations, mostly insignificant ones; Jungkook knows because he, involuntarily, hears too many of them.

It’s only when they’re dancing or drinking that they open up. That’s when they’re okay with listening to him, obedient, almost as if he’s authority, staring into the lens with flushed cheeks and wide grins.

Though it’s irritating when every other person walks up to him afterwards, inquiring when they’d be receiving the photos, or, even ruder, if at all.

Today, there are a few more comfortable people around. Not as harsh, not as grim as he feels. You’re here, too, somewhere; of course you are — you got him here in the first place. Somehow, your paths often cross. You were ready for a picture immediately, drawn in by the host, smiling.

He perceived your presence just for a second, though. Doesn’t need or want any more than that. You’re too loud, too energetic anyway; he’s rather among himself, not in any photo, indulging in the job.

He loves clicking through his camera roll; it’s the people that tire him out. Working his way through the pictures he took once home gives him joy, though. Makes his fatigue feel worth it.

But God, you’re not the only one, right? So many people here are the same amount of enthusiastic, party people to the core.

Which is why he’s happy when the night finally concludes, and he, far after midnight, stuffs his equipment back into his bag and slips into his at least somewhat chic blazer.

1:12AM, Her

You groan as your hand dives into your bag, fishing out the key that you already removed from your keychain an hour ago. Back when the man facing you approached you; he’s the last face you see when you step out of the somewhat stuffy hall.

Or so you think.

You don’t know that the night is far from over when you linger at the entrance, handing him a key that he encloses in his grip with a grateful nod and a goodbye-wave. The final interaction when you excuse yourself, breathing in the night.

It’s a hunch cooler than when you left home today; yet, the breeze feels pleasant caressing your skin. The end of August is still warm, still fairly far from fall; you regard summer nights as the best part of the season.

Sighing, you come to a halt in the middle of the pavement, studying the alley. You ponder until you remember a bus not too far from here; you need to turn left, right? Should be there. You have never been around here before, so you’re not entirely sure.

But you’ll just go with your first instinct for now. Keep walking until you detect any kind of a promising sign. You hold onto your roomy bag as you pass the rare people still around.

Some of them are faces you recognise from the party; some are strangers. One couple you spoke to just earlier even lifts a thumbs up for you, praising you for the exceptional organisation. They make you feel at ease until the road quietens.

And the place stays serene and silent until you hear the clearing of somebody’s throat. It’s not near; yet not far. Your eyes scan the area, not for long when they recognise a figure sitting on the opposite side of the narrow street.

It’s a man, clutching a heavy object with careful hands. A camera, you know it immediately. He’s hunting through the pictures he took, face slightly lit by the screen. Jutting lower lip, slowly blinking eyes.

Simple attire — dark jeans, a white shirt, and a blazer on top that hides the wide shoulders.

Constantly and undeniably handsome, albeit always grim due to the lack of a smile.

You squint to confirm it’s him you’re seeing; but when he smacks his lips in the dark of the night, nibbling at the shiny lip rings, you know you’re right. This is a habit you’ve never seen on anybody this persistently as on Jeon Jungkook.

And the one and only Jeon Jungkook must be feeling your eyes on him, because only a second later, he lifts his gaze. Instinctively, you wave a little, but Jungkook isn’t on board with your hospitality. He rolls his eyes; you don’t take it to heart, though. You’re used to this.

As he starts stuffing the camera back into his bag, you waddle over, crossing the street. Upon reaching him, you ask, “Got some good pictures tonight?”

“I’d guess so.”

His voice is as nonchalant as always, his shoulders relaxed, uncaring. To your vampire-novel-reading middle school self, he would’ve been the coolest and most mysterious riddle, waiting to be cracked. But you know how he feels about you, and that makes the situation just a little less intriguing.

Yet, you never stopped approaching him, because aside from conversations like these, you know he’s just human, too. He smiles at events whenever he gets the chance, content with the moments he captures; he likes what he does.

Photography has always been his thing; or that’s what you gathered, at least. You see the same sparkle in his eyes that you feel in yours when you work; the same joy when he fumbles with his camera, always checking, presumably changing the settings, testing it out.

You lean in a little, wondering, “Can I see?”

“Uhm…” He hesitates, lifting the strap of the camera bag higher up his shoulder. “Do you have to?”

“If I may. I brought you here, remember?”

Of course. It’s always you; you’re the one to organise this, and you’ve seen his pieces and albums before. He might not hang around you too much, always the first to tell you he has somewhere else to be, but you know he’s good. You trust him in this regard.

“You say that every time,” he argues, a tattooed hand settling on his bag, clearly reluctant.

So you click your tongue, waving your suggestion off. You try to sound as lively as ever, but your voice is more earnest as you say, “Okay, it’s fine. Don’t show me the pictures, but come on. Be a bit nice at least.

“Alright. What else? Do you need something?”

You sigh in defeat. “No. I was just going home.”

“You should go home. It’s pretty late.”

“Aren’t you going, too?”

“I am,” he responds, his voice going up at the end. “I just wanted a bit of peace before leaving.”

“Peace,” you repeat, as if trying out the word. “You can’t get it at home?”

Jungkook doesn’t answer this time. Instead, he only shifts his stare from you to the empty road ahead, exhaling a dramatically long breath before he gets into motion. You immediately react, by his side until he asks, “Are you following me?”

“Huh? Did you forget that I was literally heading this way?” He’s distracted, looking for the street signs, and you laugh at his own confusion. “Do you even know where you’re going?”

“I guess so.”

Okay, at least he’s honest, not giving himself airs. You want to see what his inner compass suggests, but then somewhat shun the thought of walking further into unknown terrain.

So you question, “You taking the bus?”

“Nope. Subway.”

“Ah. That should be this way, then,” you nod towards the direction you’re approaching, “I know the bus is, because that’s where I need to go.”

“…Are you sure?”

“Yep.”

That’s it. He doesn’t respond much; only lets out the millionth sigh, following you with something you might nearly call trust. He doesn’t attempt small talk or any other kind of interaction, so you let him sink into his thoughts.

But a beat of silence later, you still ask politely, “How did you like the party?”

“Uhhh, it was okay.” For the first time in minutes, he looks at you. “The people were weird, don’t you think? But I got some good shots in.”

“Hmm… okay. I didn’t notice anything weird about the people.” You shrug your shoulders. “Talking about shots… did you drink a little?”

He whines your name as the question is a tale as old as time, complaining, “Every single time? Why is this so important to you…” He waits, shakes his head. “No, I didn’t. Seems you did, though.”

“A little,” you say, bringing your forefinger and thumb together, indicating a tiny space. “But I’m all sober and well.” Another brief pause. “Are you okay, too?”

He licks his lower lip, dimples appearing that don’t ever need a smile to emerge. Then, he throws back, “Why shouldn’t I be?”

“Dunno. You always look so bored at parties. And you always go home alone.”

You don’t know if the following laugh is sarcastic or not, but you soon discover the very answer when he lifts a finger and counts, “First off, how would you know?” Another finger added to the mix. “Secondly, I’m not bored. I’m just focused. And I don’t know anybody there.”

His hand drops again, working on his bag’s strap again. Pushing it over his shoulder. He adds, “It’s a bit different for me than for you because they’re literally your clients and you know them at least a little.”

“I mean… you know me.”

“Yeah, but you’re…” He regards you from head to toe, not the softest of expressions, and you pout. You don’t ever take him seriously, but he can be hurtful sometimes. “I just don’t think we’d be good conversation partners.”

“Weird,” you challenge, “because you’re conversing with me right now, no problem. It’s also not my fault you always argue with me at every event.”

“I don’t. You approach me.”

“You do.” You lean your face closer to his, not making it very far when his palm pushes your cheek, and you, away from him. “Ugh. Okay. Seriously, though — why do you always leave alone?”

He exhales in defeat. Seems that Jeon Jungkook is too tired to take your idiocy tonight. You understand, but you’re just trying to figure out how to convince him that you’re normal, too. That he just dislikes you because you’re different from him, and nothing else.

“Hey…” he utters, out of energy.

“I mean it,” you still declare, “there are so many sweet and nice girls around. They ask about you sometimes, you know? I’ve also met many men on such pa—”

“That’s great,” he interrupts, a palm stopping you from spilling more info, “but… I don’t think I’m interested.”

“Oh.” The syllable is short, cut, harmless. That is, until it clicks in your brain, and your eyes widen, lips parting as you turn to him in shock, stating, “Oh, wait. Do you… play for the other team?”

Jungkook blinks at you. Then lowers his gaze, turning it a couple shades darker, staring at you from under his eyelids. He looks annoyed when he spits, “No, I’m not gay. And even if I was, it’d be none of your business.”

Shit.

Okay, you were sure about your assumption, but now that it turned out wrong, this sounds pretty shitty. And annoying. And awkward.

“Sorry,” you apologise, and he gives you a taunting head tilt. “Okay… different topic then? Tell me, what do you think of this dress?” You lift the hem a little, smiling; you were convinced the moment you first saw it. “Do you think I look pretty today?”

For a second, he joins; his initial gaze is still cynical, but his voice is appealing, a whisper when he leans in and asks, “Why? Do you want to be the one I go home with?”

Ah… why do the words, the way he speaks them, tickle you just right? You’re flabbergasted, seeing your reaction on the bare skin of your arms, but all he does is back away again and once again, shake his head.

You want to retort something snarky back, but you don’t get to it when he inquires a moment later again, “Are you sure we’re going the right way?”

Right… you need to go home. You forgot.

“Uh… yeah.” You look around, finally detecting a sign, picturing a bus and a number. “There’s the bus, so the subway should be…” You stop; hum; then see two women waiting at the bus stop. “Should we ask someone?”

“Sure.”

With a nod, you separate from him, walking towards the bus station bench they’re sitting on, hands folded, conversing quietly. They’re surprised when they see a figure advance, but relax when they catch your smile.

You ask the questions floating in your brain, trying to explain where you live, what you need. They attempt an answer, gesture around, and barely a minute later, you’re thanking them and leaving again.

Jungkook stands there in anticipation, waiting for you to deliver good news — yet confused when you return with slumped shoulders instead of an enthusiastic, “We were right! Come!”

Okay, there aren’t too many reasons for Jungkook to dislike you; you want to say this much. But when you see him understand that this is going nowhere, you do get his frustration.

Especially as you kiss your lips, staring at him like a lost bunny, and explain, “So… the subway isn’t here.” Big eyes meet yours. “I’m not sure where it is, and they,” your thumb points to the girls behind you, “couldn’t help because they’re tourists.”

“Ah. Great,” he says, delivering a falsely cheerful smile. Hands thrown into the air. “So we’re stranded and should definitely not be here. What about the bus? Where does it go?”

“Uhm…” You scratch your head. “Not where I need to go. It’s a different one. But!” Immediately, your voice rises, trying to approach this with hope. It’s not the end of the world, after all! “Don’t worry! We’ll get home either way.”

“Just a lot later than necessary.”

“But nothing’s lost yet. Don’t you trust me?”

And — much as you thought — Jungkook only ogles back in silence, blinking once again before he walks away with a curse on his lips.

1:25AM, Her

You catch up to him fast.

“It’s not that big of a deal, I promise!” you vow, but you reckon it only makes matters worse.

Because he breathes air through his nose, like a bull, arguing, “I’m tired, though. This is wasting so much of my time. You always do.”

You stop in your tracks. He doesn’t. You sulk, “That was mean.”

“And you’re idiotic.”

“Well… shit.”

This time you tilt your head, grinding your teeth; less out of anger, more out of embarrassment. You don’t respond much else, and he doesn’t throw another insult. Instead, he opens the bag again with the velcro’s ripping sound, heaving out his SLR.

You peek over his shoulder, confused about the timing to indulge in a passion, and ask, “What are you doing with that?”

“Looking through them,” he mutters, thumb working on the switching button, “maybe I took a picture when I came here. A sign where to find the subway.”

His reasoning elicits a sudden laugh out of you, probably unfounded to him, but very amusing to you. He throws a bewildered and somewhat warning look, and you immediately silence; still holding yourself back when he turns away again.

You wait, listen to the quiet of the night. He doesn’t seem to find any success, and the more time passes, the funnier you find his mind. Eventually, you step next to him and give up, telling him, “Hey. Don't be so tetchy. I'm not that bad.”

Jungkook side-eyes you, tapping the screen of the heavy Sony A9 Alpha. Inhaling the pleasant late summer air, he defends, “I'm never tetchy! But you got us lost.”

“So? You’re being dramatic. There's still Google Maps.”

That’s it. This look of his.

Jungkook must’ve gotten stuck in a decade you’ve long left, because he stares at you dumbfounded, camera still firmly in his hands. He tongues his cheek, blinks.

And then, you mock, “Guess I’m not the only idiot here, right?”

His next breath is deep, and he soon averts your eyes again. You dig, “What? If anything, then low battery might be your only excuse, you know?”

He doesn’t look at you, and you break into a grin again. Shake your head. Then fish out your phone at last, ready to type in the goal, or at least, to search the nearest subway and bus that fit your demands.

Hmmm, okay. If you need to go where you think you need to go, then the subway will really be in immediate distance to the bus. So you’ll be heading in the same direction anyway.

You open your mouth to ask for his address, prepared to type it in — but as you look at him again, you detect a deeply focused Jungkook, pursing his lips at his camera and regarding it with glitter in his eyes. You see it even from here, the sparkle.

Maybe he’s waiting for you to deliver a conclusion, because you catch him moving through older pictures in the meantime. From here, you only see glimpses. Of forests and roads, and then of waterfalls. Even some of him and his friends.

He doesn’t notice it, but his eyebrows are much more relaxed now, expression not quite as steely anymore; and his lips even twitch for a tiny second, tempted to smile. As if he forgot where he’s currently standing.

You let your arms sink, both hands holding your phone, and just gaze for a while. Then move your eyes to the side. To the sky. Remember places you’ve seen and loved in this town. Still hear his harsh tone echoing in your ears.

In hindsight, you really don’t think you've ever personally hurt or offended him. He might’ve been annoyed by something else. Perhaps he was dealing with something that he never dared to speak about; or perhaps, his perception of optimism is warped, because he clearly doesn’t wade through life with it.

You’d like to see his real self, though. The real self, because your gut feeling whispers to you that this isn’t him. Maybe there’s a kind and kindred soul hidden somewhere; maybe his smile proves far more intriguing to you than these mysterious moods of his. Once it appears, that is.

But…

He’ll probably say no. Your idea isn’t dumb, you’re certain, but he very likely will not go with it. But you want to try. Want to show him that you’re not as bad, that he can trust you; want to know what burdens him; or why he talks to you like this.

You might be the only one to wish for more time with somebody who wants to avoid you like the plague.

Yet…

You don’t want this to end just yet.

So you drop a suggestion that surprise even you—

“…You know what? Let’s try something fun tonight.”

“Excuse me?”

He voices it with his attention only half on you, not quite taking you seriously; so you swallow to dampen your throat and speak firmer, suggesting, “You need to trust me on this, though.”

This time, he does look at you. Works on stuffing his camera back into his bag, opening his mouth to retort something, but you stop him with a shushing finger that he doesn’t look too happy about.

“Hold on, okay?” you exclaim. “Listen. Are you busy tomorrow?”

“Uh… not until the afternoon.”

“So you can sleep in.”

“I guess.”

You clap once, loudly and dramatically, watching the man in front of you flinch. You can’t say if he’s irritated, shocked or terrified of you. But he looks hilarious like this, blinking, scowling as his fingers clutch his bag tighter.

“What is it?” he asks as if you’ve lost your mind.

“Look. Let’s not leave yet. Fuck Google Maps,” you suggest, and his eyes grow wider by the second, baffled, as if you’re caging him. “Let me show you pretty places until the sun comes up, and if you still hate me by then, I will never talk to you again. Isn’t this tempting?”

In your head, it is. Not for yourself, but for him. In your mind, he thinks of you as a constant nuisance that stands in his way, hopping around like an overhyped puppy.

Or not. Maybe he has a dog at home; maybe he regards you as worse than cute puppies.

Whatever.

You look at him expectantly, like your persisting stare could help him land a decision. Instead, however, he grimaces, his voice higher when he asks, “What even are you sa—”

No, you won’t give up yet; even if the recurring interruptions make him tear his hair out. You click your tongue and then argue, “Come on! Give it a try.”

Hesitation. Or rather, a question wondering if you’re crazy. Clear rejection. Are you losing?

“We’d be together, so nothing to fear,” you try further, “and how much time is there till sunrise?” You glance at your watch. “It’s barely half past one. The sun comes up in less than five hours. And like, I know it sounds like a lot, but if you give me some time, I’ll give you reasons to smile.”

He keeps looking at you in this questioning, are-you-fully-mad-manner, but you’re absolutely serious and you need him to know. You bat your eyelashes a little, offering your best laugh, and add, “Like this? If you really want to hate me after that, then okay. If not, then… maybe we could go get coffee someday.”

You’ve spoken enough. He raises a hand, quieting you down, and then finally says it.

“You must be crazy.”

“I am,” you confirm.

“You think I’d do this, huh?”

“…Maaaybe?”

“No.”

Jungkook’s answer is stone cold and direct, and it shuts you up with a near-wince. There’s a faint line between his thick eyebrows, lips pressed together; he looks dangerous and very, very mean.

So you don’t say much for another minute, following when he walks away. You side-eye him, notice him type his destination into his phone. Surrendering, you trudge the path he chooses, soon detecting signs leading to the subway.

He can’t say anything to your presence by his side. Even if his answer remains a steadfast, boring no, you’ll have to go in this direction anyway.

More than halfway through, you venture into a conversation again, “Have you ever tried anything like this before?”

“What? The nonsense you suggested?” he asks, and you nod, catching up with his long legs, slightly slower with your heels. “No. I don’t think I need to.”

“You’re so… don’t you ever try anything new?”

“I mean, is this your definition of something new?” He gestures at your surroundings haphazardly. “Going through town in the middle of the night instead of getting some decent sleep?”

You shrug your shoulders, defending, “It’s not like I do it every day. And nothing one can do every day anyway. That's why I want you to try it.” Your voice is soft, friendly. “But you don’t have to.”

He doesn’t answer; only comes to a halt when a bus stop nears, peeking up to the sign with the number before he asks, “That yours?” You hum in confirmation. “Okay. Will you get home well? It’s late.”

“Yeah, of course,” you pout, kicking off a tiny stone with your shoe, “done it a few times.”

He stalls. You don’t know why, but you’re sure he does. You notice it in his slow movements, the brief pause, the way he looks to the subway he needs to approach and then back to you. You smile when his eyes linger on you for a moment too long, and then he tilts his head, sighs.

“Alright. Then… good night.”

And that’s it.

You tell him to sleep well in return, earning a tiny nod, and then he’s leaving you stranded, walking away. Your eyes stay on him until he’s out of sight, down the escalator to the subway and far, far away from the fun idea you conjured.

You mimic his sigh. Take the two or three steps to the bench under the bus stop; and then you wait.

At this time, public transport operates irregularly, so you’re not surprised when you’re still there minutes later. For a while, you remain alone — that is, until a stranger tumbles to you, swaying before he takes a seat on the other edge of the bench.

You don’t look at him; don’t want his attention on you. But to your discomfort, he garbles just a second later, “This the bus to…”

He gets a hiccup, pointing to the bus sign, and then mumbles the name of the station he needs to reach. You don’t understand, however, so you prod, “What?”

Slower now yet similarly slurred, he repeats his question, but this time, you understand and nod your head yes. He overshares, “It’s just that I’m drunk, so I need to be sure. Sorry for interrupting.”

Suddenly, you feel kind of sorry for him. Your shoulders relax; you observe him letting his arms dangle between his legs, sniffling, incredibly exhausted, it seems. What did the fella experience tonight?

You respond, “It’s okay. It’s really late. Get home well.”

“Thanks. You’re very nice.”

The same finger previously signalling to the sign now points at you; but he doesn’t touch you. In fact, his digits are still a good distance away, already falling when you feel a hand on your elbow out of the blue; you nearly react on intuition, getting into position to break somebody’s nose.

But when your eyes meet the other man’s, you recognise him as the same figure standing tall that abandoned you a couple minutes ago. His hand is still grasping the camera bag strap, and he looks calm, confident when he speaks—

“All good? Sorry, I left for too long, right? Let’s go.”

Your voice changes, a chuckle hidden in it when you blurt, “What?”

“You wanted to take a walk.”

And just like that, the snicker dies again. Is he being serious? It seems so; it’s the whole package, even. The nod towards an entirely different direction and the sudden fingers around your wrist, pulling you away.

“Uhm…” you start, feet moving automatically. You turn to the guy drowning in inebriation, leaving a last, “Good luck!” as you wave, smile. Then, to Jungkook, “I thought you went away. Did you want to do this after all?”

You’re cocking an eyebrow, but much at the back of Jungkook’s head, so he doesn’t see. But it seems he hears the tease in your voice, because half-annoyed, half-argumentative, he explains, “No. Just wanted to be a gentleman. I was going to leave the moment you got on the bus.”

Ah. So he was waiting, hiding somewhere? But you don’t mention it; it’d probably just rile him up more.

Yet, you challenge, “You’re lying. You were concerned and you thought my idea was fun after all.”

“Whatever you say,” he says, waving the white flag, probably just to shut you up, “don’t know if I can do this until sunrise, but I can walk with you for a bit. Get you closer to home. And I swear!”

Now he turns, shooting a stare at you over his shoulders, lightning bolts in the middle of his pupils, “If you’re lying and there’s literally nothing special on our way, I’m actually never talking to you again.”

Nothing easier than that.

“Deal!”

“Cool,” he so nonchalantly remarks, finally letting go of your arm, “which way are you heading then?”

“North-east.”

“Good. Works for me.”

The sun is nowhere near up yet; of course not. It’s 1:37AM. Around four and a half hours.

You’re hopeful. In your head, you imagine an uplifted demeanour in no time; try to guess what his smile might look like. A genuine one. Maybe sweet? Maybe cocky? You’ll find out. You will.

So you straighten your stance, clear your throat, sigh a content breath, and step into the night with the courage the stars lend you.

2:13AM, Her

The first almost forty minutes of your night pass leisurely.

Jungkook’s initial sighs cease soon as you advance into the town, walking down a busy main street. You guess the bustling area, the sounds of the traffic and the lights of the flashing cars relieve him somehow. Give him an excuse to not talk to you.

But as the occupied road ends and you reach and pass a crowded square, you’re back in calm and serene alleys. Some people are still wandering around, passing closed shops, much like you.

You attempt conversation every now and then, and Jungkook, having eventually realised that he needs to cooperate with you — he agreed to your idea after all — isn’t as mad anymore.

At some point, he breathes in the late summer breeze, and your head swerves into his direction immediately — maybe the magic of the night has finally reached his core, too. Perhaps he’s appreciating the journey you set out to embark on.

You, for one, cherish the quiet; you know at least this much. The alley must be part of the older corner of the town because the lampposts seem Victorian. They’re fancy, bent at the top, the light a comforting golden.

You do admire the beauty in the dead of night, you do — but the weirdly bruising feeling on your skin becomes uncomfortably apparent the more you walk. Your heels and the Achilles tendons ache, the ball of your feet sensitive to each step.

For a while, you hide the stupid pain successfully, not wanting the night to end; and you do love the heels. Feel just the way those old romcom’s protagonists probably felt, strutting through town with a man whose life they’d change.

But as an involuntary groan slips out of you, Jungkook’s view changes from the old buildings to your struggling self. His eyes settle on your contorted expression before they move further down to your sudden limp.

He asks, “You good?”

“Yeah, yeah! Just been walking for a while, is all.”

“Hmm,” he hums, regarding your heels with a suspicious look. “Do they hurt?”

“Nah. I’m used to them.”

“…Oookay.”

He drags the word, as if in disbelief; and you can’t lie your way through the minutes when the ache worsens, the suddenly paved path too much of a chore. You nearly trip when your heel gets caught between the stones.

Jungkook immediately reacts when you hiss; you’re nowhere near actually falling, but his arms still reflexively jolt, the camera bag swaying and hitting your hand when he catches your shoulders.

“Okay, seriously,” he spits, eyes wide, “that’s enough. You can’t walk in these.”

“I can!”

“Not!” He takes a look around, inspecting the place; it’s quiet here, not too many cars driving by at all. So he points to the edge of the pedestrian zone, instructing, “Sit down there. Let’s see.”

See what?

You blink, but oblige. His pointing finger is dominant, and his eyes urging; you flatten your dress, taking a seat at the edge. The road isn’t high, so it’s a little uncomfortable; but you’re pleasantly surprised when he appears in front of you, crouching.

Very, very baffled when he requests, “Can you take them off?”

“Sure,” you say, unbuckling the straps around your ankles before removing the shoes. You sigh; you must admit, it does feel great. “I’m honestly okay, though.”

Jungkook doesn’t respond, ignores your statement; instead, asks, “May I?”

You don’t understand what he means until his hands come to a float right over your toes; he wants to check for bruises, doesn’t he? You nod curtly; something about this warms your chest. You don’t think you’ve ever seen this side of him before.

Not that you ever had the chance to.

He doesn’t really hate you, does he?

Carefully, his fingers reach for your ankle. The touch is warm and pleasant; doesn’t hurt until he moves his thumbs to your heel. Your feet are overworked; you notice. But rather than the annoying pain, you can’t help but focus on your view.

The big, round nose, hiding the plump, parted lips. His eyes look hooded from here, strands of his hair covering them. Intrusive thoughts plead for your fingers to card through the dark mane; it looks soft, pretty.

And the gentleness he handles your skin with fills you with fondness; you like being cared for.

Even when he shakes his head; pulling you out of your daydream. You take a breath, and then inquire, “You don’t have a problem with touching feet?”

He shrugs his shoulders. “It’s just feet. Besides,” he stops for a second, detecting something at the back of your foot, shaking his head, “Mom used to work as a nurse. Tough job. I massaged hers sometimes.”

Ah… a loving son, a family person. You smile.

“And I thought you have a foot kink,” you tease.

“Shut up.”

“Found anything?”

“Yeah actually. Do you know how wounded your skin is here? Were you wearing new shoes?”

You gulp with a thin-lipped smile, wondering if he’ll kill you now if you tell him. You look to some random spot on your right before you admit, “Yes.”

“God, you…” He clicks his tongue. Puts your foot on the ground cautiously, reaching for his bag. He rummages through it until he pulls out a bandage, holding it in front of you. “You’re lucky.”

You chuckle, relieved and flattered. “I guess I am.”

He puffs out a laugh, but stops it right away, calling your name under his breath before he says, “God, you’re crazy. Be careful. And admit it when you’re hurt. Why didn’t you?”

Well… you didn’t want the night to end—

“I…”

You hesitate.

He works on your other foot just the same, a tender thumb running over your ankle, probably used to the soothing touch. It distracts you. And when he stops and you don’t answer, he puts his arm on his angled leg, staring up at you in anticipation.

“Yes?” he prods.

“I didn’t say anything because I didn’t think you’d care.” Nonchalantly yet pouting, you nibble at your lower lip. “And if I’d told you they’re hurting, you might’ve suggested ending the night.”

He cocks an eyebrow as if agreeing to the most self-explanatory statement ever, nodding as he confirms, “Damn right I would’ve. We should end the night right now if you can’t walk. Not in these, at least.”

Your chest is hot, your stomach twisting a little. Jungkook really does bother; if not due to a connection he shares with you, then simply because he cares for people. Never, you have never experienced him like this before.

With a tilt of your head and a batting of your eyelashes, you suggest, “And if I was barefoot?”

Which he reacts to with a roll of his eyes. “The night isn’t that warm. Don’t do this to yourself. The ground’s dirty, too.”

You take a look at the dark grey pavement upon his argument, much as if the night could allow you to detect any of the dirt he speaks of. Once more, you hum, pretending to contemplate what to do; and when you pick up your heels, suggesting to follow your idea either way, the back of his hand gives your knee the lightest of hits.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Watch.”

He does. Watches you place your spacious, black bag on your lap, opening the zip. Observes as your hand dips in, pulling out one pair of sneakers and replacing them with your treacherous heels. He keeps ogling when you put them on, mouth widening bit by bit.

He doesn’t speak until you’re done, socks picked out of the shoes, pulled over your feet, laces tied. You keep smiling, content with the moment, only dropping the grin when you see his puzzled expression.

“What?” you question.

“You had them with you and… Why didn’t you say so sooner?”

Your answer comes without hesitation; whatever timidity he elicited a moment ago slowly fades again. You clear your throat, back to who you are, and dauntlessly admit, “It was sweet. How you took care of me, I mean. I didn’t think you ever would.”

“But you could’ve at least worn them sooner and avoided the hurt?!”

“Well, it didn’t hurt then…”

“You’re…”

Jungkook uprights himself, towering above you. You put a flat palm onto the pavement, wanting to heave yourself up, but soon see a hand in front of your face. He’s offering it; and you’re quick to take it.

Warm and soft; gentle.

As he pulls you up, you land closer to his body than calculated; his face isn’t too far from yours… much nearer than it has ever been. He leans back; looks to the side; blinks. Clears his throat. Lets go off your hand way too late.

The breath you held escapes in a sudden blow. You swallow.

And when you’ve processed the strange moment, you feel the change in your stance. You’re standing taller now; your feet feel heavenly in your Nikes. Dusting off the front of your dress and your ass, you wait for him to say something.

But he keeps standing there on the road, in the middle of a parking space, hands on his hips. He’s judging you; you understand. Your mindset isn’t for everybody. You might seem crazy, alright.

Yet, he doesn’t scold you again. The up and down of his irked voice doesn’t appear this time when he speaks again; instead, his chin nods towards your legs, and he questions, “So you just carry around shoes with you?”

“I need to,” you say, matter-of-factly, “I can’t ride the motorcycle in heels. And!” Jungkook’s mouth opens, but you’re quick to explain. “Before you ask. No, I didn’t hide my bike anywhere. It needs some fixing, so my co-worker took it because he knows someone who’ll do it. And because he owes me a favour.”

“Right… how unfortunate.” He pauses; runs his tatted digits through the hair you longed to touch minutes ago. They look so silky, it makes you sick. His eyes settle on you, intrigued before he adds, “So, you have a bike, huh?”

“Yeah… why?”

“No reason. I do, too.”

“Mmmh,” you voice, nodding to the road ahead to suggest moving. He follows, trudging next to you again. “You didn’t use it today?”

“No…” He pats the camera bag. “Didn’t want to harm my equipment.”

You hum approvingly, fingers entangling in front of your body. You inch closer to his arm, nudging his shoulder with yours before you flash a sugary smile and say, “Thank you. For caring even a little, you know? Even if you’re always like that, it’s nice to see you like this for once.”

“I’m usually like this,” is what he, however, merely answers, accompanied by air quotes.

But you know you’ve gotten through to him at least a little. Melted bits of the frozen parts of his heart that feel so vexed by you on other nights. In truth, you think, there’s nothing but a delicate organ pumping behind his ribcage.

He’s not a robot; Jeon Jungkook is undeniably humane. If anything, then more than most people you have ever met.

And it shows when he looks away, barely able to hide his smile. You see it even from here — that the gesture does something to his eyes. Nearly squints them shut, makes them smaller, more joyful.

You inhale, proud of yourself. Watch as he toys with his lip rings before he asks eventually, “What do you mean owing you a favour, by the way?”

He sounds almost offended. You think he’ll ask about that favour, reprimand you for giving away your bike tonight of all nights. Tell you off for dragging him here, doing something big enough to entrust an entire motorcycle to somebody.

But instead, he continues with a question you never foresaw, “Are you in a quarrel with them? Am I not your arch-enemy?”

You burst into laughter immediately, covering your mouth as the other palm touches his arm. There’s a bulging bicep under his blazer, but you’ll focus on that later.

Right now, you’re fairly occupied by the satisfied eyes; he doesn’t really expect an answer. He wanted to make you laugh… Why does that set something loose in your brain?

“Oh… are you jealous? What if I told you it’s somebody else who occupies my mind at night and not you?” you wonder, wiggling your eyebrows.

“Don’t do this to me. I’ll find your co-worker and fight them for your enemyship. Word of honour.”

“It’s enmity. And stop flirting with me,” you tell him, moving towards him again, shoulder hitting shoulder. “Or is it something else with arch-enemies?”

This time, he doesn’t veil his grin. It’s bright, pretty, reminiscent of the light shed on you underneath the lampposts. And his pupils; whenever you see them clearly enough, you recognise the sky in them. Borrowed stars inside.

You shake your head a second later, winding down from your fit of laughter, and tell him, “You’re not my arch-enemy. Arch-enemies don’t exist, and you know you aren’t one. You just…” You stall, your voice quieter now. “You just regard me as one.”

He throws you an indecipherable look. Hints of joking, shreds of seriousness, you think. His gaze drifts back to the path again, regarding a passing group of three friends briefly. His hands slide into the pockets of his jacket, and he sniffles once before he utters—

“No, I don't.”

Ah. Ah.

Why do your eyebrows relax the way they do? And your shoulders; already in ease, yet they seem to fall in relief. You peer at him wordlessly; he doesn’t demand an answer, fully aware you’re looking at him.

And you don’t ask what you’ve been to him ever since he saw you at the first party probably a year ago; what irked him, what delighted him. If he thought about you at all.

Instead, you look at the neon words in the next street, asking, “Are you hungry?”

2:19AM, Him

You’re irritating to the core.

You always have been. But he’d be lying if he didn’t admit you amused him a little. No matter how much you’ve been wasting his time, you allowed a smile in this ill-lit night. Nobody else at the party did — so in some sense, you’ve already won, and somehow, he’s even grateful.

Grateful that you’re optimistic about the world at least. Glad that you suggested fetching food. Endeared by the way you thanked him for his care. Surprised that you ride a motorcycle! Relieved that you have good humour.

Even though his own humour and smile dissipate after you enter one of the few open stores still providing late night snacks. The girl behind the counter looks tired, but straightens a little when the two of you flash a polite smile.

She greets with a sweet, “Hi!” but Jungkook sees the lethargy in her drooping eyes immediately. Poor girl.

But you’re as enthusiastic as ever; maybe a little more now, maybe observing the same as him. You put your hands on the counter like a child — the image is somewhat cute. But what comes out of your mouth is not.

“Uhm… Could I have a portion of cheese tteokbokki, please? And then… A half and half corndog for my husband.”

Your… what now?

Excuse me?

Jungkook throws an immediate and scorching look your way, utterly surprised. When you meet his eyes, his thick eyebrows are closer than anybody’s ever seen. He huffs your suggestion away, and then corrects, “I’m not her husband. And I’ll take the chicken wrap.”

You chuckle, leaning into him, shielding your mouth with a hand as you warn, “They’re not usually very good at this store. Trust me.”

“I know what I’m doing.”

Right. He does. After the disaster of finding the damn bus and the deception caused by your shoes, he won’t trust you very easily anymore. His opinion clearly differs from yours, so he’ll bank on his gut feeling.

Satisfied when you shrug, as if to indicate, “If you say so,” he walks over to the window seats with you in tow, looking out to the peaceful streets. Once seated, he turns towards you, peering until you notice and ask far too purely, “What?”

“Not even your boyfriend, no… Jumped straight to making me your husband, huh?”

The lift of your shoulders brushes his concerns aside; your eyes are incredibly innocent and even somehow playful when you say, “I thought it’d be fun.”

“Was it really?”

“Well, your reaction was funny, at least.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes in disbelief. You’re courageous, he must admit. Social anxiety must fear you — is that how you live life? Unabashed, spirited, not a sheer care for anything that won’t actually hurt you.

He doesn’t know if you’re insane or if he’s jealous.

But he still reiterates, “You’re crazy. And it was embarrassing.”

“I mean,” you say, moving on your chair, folding your fingers on top of the counter but still looking at him, “it was embarrassing because you made it. It’s honestly whatever.” You blow a raspberry, and then take a swing again, “Why is it awkward anyway? We’ll never be here together again.”

He whispers a hushed, “Thankfully,” and you tap the counter with a click of your tongue. He gets it; you live differently. That’s fine. As long as you don’t pull him into your mischief, it’s fine.

Right?

He’s right, isn’t he? He knows that in his personal opinion he is; yet, he can’t help but feel that sting, suddenly deeming himself as boring. You’re never bored, are you?

Anyway…

“Even if you do something like this again,” he tells you, “at least tell me.”

“I mean, that would kinda prevent your genuine reactions from happening, but… if it makes you happy.” You grin at him, and he scoffs; wants to say something before the girl calls for you. “Food is ready.”

A couple seconds later, the two of you have settled back into place; at the sight of the snack, Jungkook salivates. He didn’t realise how hungry he actually was. The buzz and fuzz of a party makes one forget such an essential thing fast.

Or maybe, he was just immersed in his work.

The chicken smells good, at least. Or are these your tteokbokki? He can’t quite discern the scent right now; his mind is fogged by his appetite. Silently, he unwraps his food, swallowing before he digs into the wrap.

So far, so good… seems edible. He keeps chewing; swallows some more. But as the taste starts to sink in and he realises the sogginess of the wrap, the lack of proper sauces and the dryness as well as the blandness of the chicken…

He pauses. Where… are the flavours?

Slowing down, he glances at his meal. Inspects it as if he’s holding an entirely new recipe in his hands. A look of realisation creeps upon his face, unaware of your gaze, and he soon hears an amused snicker from the side.

You don’t say much when your eyes align. Only, “And?”

He knows he’s already lost when his expression changes, cringing; when he can’t answer right away, only gaping at you in confusion. Still thinking about where this recipe went wrong.

He answers, “It’s fine…”

But you catch his obvious lie; he sees it in the way you smile so devilishly. Cocking an eyebrow, enjoying another bite of your snack without ever averting your eyes. Then, you put the tiny wooden fork back into the dish, propping your cheek on your fist.

You wait; he doesn’t know what for. For him to eat again? Maybe; because you soon ask, “Do you want something else?”

“Nah.” His answer is instant this time. “I can do this. I’m an omnivore.”

“Ah, yeah. An omnivore friend right here.” You laugh, curious when he takes another bite. And then, “Jungkook, it’s okay to admit…”

But he won’t listen. Only makes a disapproving sound, stuffing his mouth with another horrendous bite. Shit; he can’t confess that you were right. That you were actually right this time.

Suddenly, he’s craving a cup of ramyeon.

But he should keep eating. Wash it down with his drink, empty the soda. And he’s almost halfway through when he notices a movement from your direction, like you’re playing with your food.

Only, he realises that you are not; rather separating the tteokbokki in two halves before shoving the porcelain dish towards him. He shakes his head, but you persist, “Take it, man.”

It does look good…

But… are you going to use the satisfaction his defeat may give you? Probably. But fuck… Fuck it.

Reluctantly, he lets the wrap fall onto the small plate, gulping down the remainder of what he just bit off, and then, accepts your generosity with a nod. And… whether it’s because of the disappointment the wrap brought or the late hunger…

Jungkook thinks he’s levitating above clouds, floating towards the sun.

It’s good. Very damn good.

And when you ask again this time, “Should we get another?” his nod comes promptly, chest risen in satisfaction as he states, “That’d be great.”

“Alright. Be right back.”

“Nah,” he says, lifting an arm as if to protect you. Mid-action, you halt, sliding back up onto your seat. “Stay here. I’ll get it… All good.”

So he does; enjoys the look of surprise when his other hand even carries dessert, four pieces of matcha mochi ice cream. He says, “This is for you.”

You gasp. He can’t deny that it’s sweet — the elation, the big eyes, the palms coming together in delight. How you look between the food and him, suddenly wiggling your feet.

“You seem to like it,” he notes, and you nod feverishly, telling him that, “Yes! Been craving it since we came in. Thank you!”

“Oh. You should’ve told me earlier! We could’ve gotten it. No worries.”

“It’s okay. I wanted to see if my dessert stomach still allowed anything. Didn’t disappoint me today.”

Jungkook gets to his own tteokbokki, halving it in the middle the way you did, pushing it towards you. It’s weird to think about it like this, but — considering how long the two of you have known each other, you might almost look like… friends.

And you don’t feel quite like an enemy either. You’re even… kind of nice. Friendly; harmless.

“I’m glad,” Jungkook responds, only looking towards the entrance when another group of three friends, two girls, a guy, enter. Then back to you, “Sorry. You were right. This,” he points to the poor, sad wrap, “was shit.”

“See? My first instinct almost never lies. And I know this store from other places… the wraps are never good.”

“Sure, but… your first instinct isn’t always right, though, is it? You did get us lost, so it was wrong at least once.”

“Hm… was it, though?”

Jungkook regards you in confusion as you put another piece on your tongue, working on the chewy thing as he asks, “What do you mean? We had no clue where we w—”

“Yeah, I mean. I agree. But… I don’t think it was that wrong. Because—”

You lick your lips clean off the tteokbokki sauce, smacking them. You look child-like, but pretty when you indulge in your element, uncaring about everything, just living. Maybe it’s not that bad that you’re bold.

And maybe, just maybe, he can power through this night easily after all; especially if you keep saying things that soothe his chest, things like—

“Because my first instinct brought me to you.”

2:49AM, Him

The temperatures are falling as the night proceeds, and the second portion of the mochi ice cream adds to the pleasant chill.

Jungkook wonders how you’re doing; your dress is skimpier than his jeans, and your arms bare. But your stance and your speech are still inconspicuous, skin free of goosebumps, your walk elegant, leisurely.

Judging from your occasional hums and your ceaseless optimism, you’re enjoying this journey. It almost makes him feel bad; guilty about how adamantly he refused all this just an hour ago.

It hasn’t been too bad. Sure, you’re bold and intrepid, and yeah, in some ways he is, too — but his courage stems from other motivations. From adrenaline-loaded activities or joyful, temporary pains. Like his tattoos; his motorcycle; the summer he bungee-jumped for the first time.

You’re a different kind of daring; you challenge your limits in crowds and consider life a respectful joke. You don’t ever hurt anyone, he doesn’t think — you just go and see how far you can push yourself.

Perhaps in some sense, the two of you complement each other while simultaneously seeming to be cut from the same wood. Perhaps you’re different, but then again, not so much.

You’re quiet; you weren’t until you left the snack bar. As for now, however, you seem distracted, swallowing heaps of your dessert as you scan the surroundings you’ve led the two into. You’re somewhat unfazed by it, yet peering as though you’ve been here before.

Which, in retrospect, makes sense. You’ve been wanting to show him places you enjoy after all.

When the silence extends, Jungkook, along with the chirping of the nightlife, breaks it with a, “You know what?”

Your head swerves to his side, the wooden fork in your mouth. The pure gaze you give him throws him off guard for a moment — it’s somewhat sweet. But as he regains himself, he says, “I didn’t think we’d get to a housing scheme here. The main street is super close, but the vibe is so different.”

“I know. It’s a little scary at night when you’re alone. Gives very Desperate Housewives, doesn’t it? Secrets veiled behind shut curtains.” You draw closer, imitating a spooky gesture. “But I liked coming here when I was younger.”

Bingo. He thought so.

“Ah… why?”

“My friend lived here,” you explain with a tilt towards a random direction; he doubts the friend lived in just the house you gestured to, “she’s long moved out of course, but we’d play on these streets back then. Most of the neighbours knew me, too!”

Jungkook tsks, hauling his own bite out of the cup, and you add, “No, seriously! We could just knock at anybody’s door here, and they’d let me in.”

“Not if they moved out, too. A lot of time has passed.”

You bob your head. “Time has passed indeed. It does so pretty fast.”

“Doesn’t it?”

You seem to get into overdrive, gearing up; he didn’t think this topic would rev you up like this, but it appears you have a somewhat firm and fond opinion about the passing of time. Jungkook recognises the sentiment before you speak — the light of the lampposts reflects in your eyes like glitter.

Only, he doesn’t foresee what you say next, your tone teasing through the joy you display—

“Yeah! Like. Do you remember when I told you to not get the wrap and you still di—”

“Shut up.”

The roll of his eyes isn’t anything new; but the faint feeling that accompanies it, something akin to amusement, certainly is.

“Okay, but. Seriously,” you start again, sly smirk falling, voice neutralising the mock, “it felt different here. Because like, you know, where I live, it gets crowded. I’m not too far from the city centre, so… this place always felt really peaceful to me. Jieun and I played together a lot.”

Jungkook frowns.

“Jieun?”

“Hm? Oh. The friend I spoke about? She’s pretty cool.”

“Ah… Right, right.”

“Mhmm,” you hum, the end of your small fork tapping the bottom of the nearly finished cup, “you know another way to know that time passes really fast?” You pause for effect, then add, “It’s been ages since we saw each other for the first time.”

“Right. At a party, too, right? When was that anyway?”

“Hmm… Like.” You ponder, blinking, looking up to the sky. “Like two years ago?”

Jungkook’s eyes widen; if you’d asked him, he would’ve estimated a year tops. If he digs in his memory thoroughly enough, he could probably even remember what you wore that day; what you looked like.

It doesn’t feel like two years. You’re right — time truly does pass like the wind.

“Wow,” he exclaims, “it’s been this long since you started pestering me?”

“Shut up,” it’s your turn to blurt, your body swaying towards him until you push him to the side of the vacant road. “I didn’t even come near you most of the time.”

“I know, I know. You were fun to look at, though. Seemed to enjoy yourself every single time.”

Shit, why did he say that? Shouldn’t he hold onto the image he fostered; the one that’s permanently irked by you, throwing snarky remarks throughout the night?

And…

Didn’t this just break the banter, the frenemyship — frenmity? — the two of you have going on? Was it too nice? It’ll probably surprise you. Then again, is he a damn child? Why would he worry about such things? Question his own kindness?

Why would he hold onto his ego and deny you his humane side when you’ve been nothing but lovely to him all night?

The young adult rivalry is over, Jeon Jungkook. Look at her and fucking admit that you’re the arrogant one.

But funnily enough, you don’t seem to notice anyway.

“Hmmm, I do love my job,” you answer, “I have a lot of fun organising stuff. Doing something good for other people, right? See them enjoy it. I mean, of course there are days when things don’t go as planned, but.”

You lift a shoulder, indulging in the final remnants of your chewy mochi and the melted matcha ice cream inside.

“I know. It happens to me, too.”

“Really? How?”

Jungkook waves towards the sky, lists, “Heavy rain, lots of traffic, too spontaneous, issues with the camera… etcetera. Anything can happen.”

“Yeah — I get it. But yeah, I do love doing this. I meet a lot of nice people, too. And I guess that makes me feel very… blessed? It puts things into perspective.”

“How so?”

“Like, it makes you see that most people aren’t bad.”

Huh. Odd. Not that he’d ever deem the entire globe vile, putting a standardised label that he can impossibly prove. But as far as he has seen… too many people aren’t good either.

“Really?” he asks. “That’s a lucky thing to experience.”

You look genuinely surprised, turning towards him when you ask, “You don’t?”

“Uhm — rarely. I do enjoy photography. Always have.” His mind zooms into a glinting memory from the past, and his shoulders and voice rise when he recalls, “Y’know… My dad got me one of those yellow disposable Kodak cameras when I was a kid. I loved it so much.”

You nod; if he didn’t know better, he’d almost say you look… delighted. Actually interested.

“And events and weddings,” he continues, “they’re beautiful to capture. It’s probably the lights and the pretty people. And just… the memories?”

This time, he looks away, straight to the road; if he hadn’t, he’d know that your gaze is definitely fond now. No doubt about it. You listen in closely.

It’s the first time he’s talking to you like this, or to anyone — or for this long, for that matter. Most of your conversations were fleeting, fiery, a petulant back and forth that — he now realises — could’ve been something else, something better, too.

“But then it just sucks when so many of them can’t appreciate it properly,” he explains, raising his hands to emphasise, tone galled. “I mean, I look at my camera and I see a tool to create art. It’s… nothing I take for granted. Just think about it.”

The ball of fire in his chest grows; he feels it warm up, gassed-up. “A thing that can hold onto moments in absolute high definition, so that you can still remember them years later? The 18th century couldn’t have imagined. They needed to commit everything to memory just like that.”

“Wow, Jungkook… You really do love this, too.”

His arms fall to the side. He inhales the fresh flurry of air. Rethinks his passion for his job and says, “Yeah. Yeah, I guess I do.”

“…But?”

He knows what’s missing.

“I love the art, but I hate the clients. The event hosts. Not you, but the one even above you.”

Jungkook reckons this was a confession that long sat on his tongue unmentioned. Of course he thought about it; is always reminded when he attends these functions, standing at the back, at the front, left and right, unnoticed and taken for granted.

But now that it’s out and that he’s finally verbalised it to somebody… it definitely liberates something in his head.

You see his issue with these gatherings; he knows you do because he’s figured out this much. You’re filled with enough empathy, sympathy, every grand word ending on the same syllable to acknowledge his disappointment.

But you’re filled with humour and absurdity, too, evident in the answer you provide to diffuse the tension.

“So, that’s why you’re always in a foul mood.”

“Shu—”

“Shut up, yeah, yeah.” You giggle, but then halt for a moment, toying with the rim of your paper cup, “But you know, I think art is worth something even if just one person appreciates it. If it helps in any way… I’m always impressed. And I always appreciate it when I call you and you come despite finding me so annoying.”

One corner of your lips lifts, the smile humble and light; sends a pang of guilt through him. Have you always been so nice?

“Also, I do see the pictures almost every single time,” you add, “and you’re so good at this. At the job itself and the editing afterwards. Honestly.”

“…You think?”

Damn.

Jungkook would probably not bask in this hobby, continue his job if he wasn’t proficient in what he does. He’s known about his prowess ever since he was young.

But praises do offer a sense of magical warmth, don’t they? He doesn’t think any creative mind ever sickens of such unexpected support. And the way you say it… makes him want to never lay down his camera.

“Of course, yes,” you confirm, “not to shoot up your ego, but… you once sent a set of pictures where I found one of me. Don’t know if you even noticed? I was wearing that lilac dress and curls, I still remember — and—”

Stuck on the mention of your clothing, he immediately attaches a detail to the memory, “Sleeveless dress. Long silver earrings, right?”

“Oh… right…”

Right.

He won’t mention that he looked at that picture for just a second longer than at the others that night. Noticed for the first time how pretty you were. Not too deep of a thought, a twelve second stare, but… you wore this vibrant smile on that picture, and in some way, he did hope you’d see it, too.

It seems you did. He feels satisfied, proud even.

“Right,” you repeat, your defences somehow down, “uhm. I printed the picture. Still have it somewhere.”

Jungkook has already often wondered what people do with the pictures; put them in albums? Frame them and pin them over their couch? Right now, he also wonders — do you look at it a lot?

And this again begs the question — when you do, does your decision to book a vendor like him fill you with pride? Like your choice was right?

“That’s so nice,” he says.

“All that to say,” you inhale, “that I think you’re really fucking skilled.”

Woah. You weren’t quite certain if your consolation would bring him any solace, but you’ve done far more than that. You’ve shown him that you see what he does — and isn’t this what every artist craves? To be seen?

The tension buzzes between him and you like electricity; he doesn’t know if it’s just him lighting up or if you’re feeling a kindred link, too. But it’s somewhat intense in this moment of walking under the stars, surrounded by quietude and absolute pose.

So much so that he’s soon submerged by an odd urge to make the intensity wane, “Hey, does this feel to you like… a cliché chick flick kinda dialogue?”

You know…

The moment when two find an empty street in the middle of the night, realising that a conversation with each other isn’t the end of the world after all?

That type of thing?

But he doesn’t say any of it.

“Yeah? Maybe. But it’s also true,” you argue, “I’m an honest person and I don’t think I’d say anything I didn’t mean.”

“Ah, yeah?” Jungkook voices, taking the emptied out ice cream cup and throwing it into the bin on the side of the road, along with his own.

“Mhm, one hundred percent,” he hears you say, followed by a light, quiet smacking noise.

He doesn’t see what you’re doing until he arrives back where you stand; watches you lick the sticky rest off the pad of your thumb, smiling when you stare up at him again. It’s a mundane gesture; he’s done it ever since he was a kid.

But somehow, he can’t stop looking.

Might be the way your lips curve when you do it, or how your eyes smile when your mouth does. The authenticity you portray is rare; perhaps he just confused it with madness until now.

Seconds pass, and with that, your smile does, too. As it fades and drops, replaced by a curious expression and big eyes, you soon mutter, “What?”

There’s no response to that, really. He doesn’t know either.

He doesn’t understand how you turned out to be so right. How it’s such an ultimate truth that a serene night brings out a dreamy alter ego, hitherto undetected. Jungkook has never felt like much of a romantic, but right now, he thinks he’s on a different plane of reality.

This doesn’t feel like Earth; and the town doesn’t feel like the one he struts through during the day.

So maybe it’s not that wayward or groundless for him to lean in. To bend a bit more. Further and further until you laugh nervously; he knows you’re preparing to crack another joke, but you remain silent as he approaches.

Gauges your reaction. Will you run? You aren’t.

Instead, you gulp; let your pupils fall to his piercings, just when his own gaze moves to your lips. His right hand, tattooed, led by its own will, reaches for your cheek until he’s cupping it; and suddenly, his mouth parts — what’s happening? — and then—

And then, a vehicle roars from afar.

Both of you hear the motorcycle before you even see the blinding white light; he grips your arm, probably too harshly, dodging the street with you and jumping onto the pedestrian walk.

One must be crazy to still drive through the city at this hour. Right?

You pant, mixed with insane chuckles of relief, “Shit. We almost died.”

“We didn’t,” he refutes, “we had plenty of time.”

“Oh no,” you stretch the last word, eyes squinting. An accusing forefinger points at him before you deduce, “We almost died because you like me. Of all things!”

“I do not. You just looked kinda cute.”

Jungkook might’ve attempted an indifferent answer, but instead, he steered into an excuse that you do not accept at all. Your smirk is telling and satisfied, and if he wasn’t trying to prove a point, your Cheshire Cat grin would’ve made him laugh, too.

“But you did almost kiss me,” you persist.

Ugh, you’re bold. Laughing like it means nothing; no embarrassment, no shy restraint in you. Which is probably not too bad; somehow even charming. Explains the rosy dust on his cheeks at least. He feels it in the heat, can’t believe he almost kissed you just now.

Why does he feel like a hormonal adolescent? It’s not like he’s never kissed anybody.

You’re still enclosed by pure delight, nudging his arm repeatedly, annoyingly. And when he doesn’t answer, choosing reticence instead, you nearly shriek, as if he confirmed all you just said.

His instinctive hand slaps up to your mouth, covering it, shushing you. You’re still smiling, working on removing his palm, but before your nonsense can proceed, a sudden light flickers in the corner of Jungkook’s eye.

Immediately, he seeks out the source, soon finding a room in the house left to him lighting up. You woke somebody, it seems. A silhouette becomes clearer, its edges more refined with every second, and just before the owner of the place can shove the curtains aside, you grip Jungkook’s hand.

Within a moment, he finds himself tugged away by you, running, nearly stumbling over his own feet. You blurt, “Better get away before they kill us.”

As you leave the tranquil settlement behind, Jungkook still hears a voice from an open window, cursing the younger generation as they do; and then, out of the damn blue, a fucking dog barks.

When you turn over your shoulder, mouth dropping open, Jungkook knows you’re thinking the same as him — this happens outside of cinematic universes, too?

It takes a minute until you’ve reached another road again; one of the kind he’s more familiar with. The city type. The two of you come to a halt near some pole, and you let his hand go, leaning against it.

For a moment, you work on catching your breath, Jungkook’s hands settling on his thighs. And then, when your eyes meet, you burst into a fit of laughter, followed by a playful wiggle of his eyebrows to which you respond, “Don’t act innocent. This is your fault.”

“What? You were lau—”

“Because of you! Oh, I know you want me so bad.”

You’re jesting, of course. Swaying your head, poking his chest, a brat straight out of some TV show. But what you can do, he’s been perfecting for years.

So he answers in kind, “And if I did?”

Only for you to utter something that not even his brain can compute.

“If you did? Then… I think I’d let you.”

“Ah… Yeah? Why?”

“Because— I think you’re just half as bad.”

His snicker is half amused, half flattered. He purses his lips, nodding, and then declares, “You’re just a quarter as bad. But guess I’ve gotten so tired that I’ve started doing weird shit.”

You click your tongue, puffing out a breath, instantly reacting when he only flicks your chin and then walks away. Your startled expression prevails, a distance between him and you established, but just as he puts his hands in his jeans, he hears you finally follow.

“Hey,” you voice from behind, tapping his arm, “are you really tired?”

“I was kidding, but. Honestly? A little.”

“…Hmm. You know, my friend lives in an apartment nearby. Jieun? Didn’t move too far from her old home. We could stop there.”

Jungkook’s left eyebrow leaps up, surprised by the suggestion; the idea doesn’t sound too bad. But…

“Wasn’t the deal to go around for a whole night, though?”

“Ohhh. Are you starting to like it?”

You’re observant, he’ll give you that.

“I’m just saying,” he adds, “and also, would she just let a stranger in?”

“Oh, she’s very civilised and hospitable. She wouldn’t mind, and she’s known me for ages. She trusts me.” Maybe you detect the hesitation in his eyes and the twitch of the corner of his lips, because you immediately carry on, “We can just stay for an hour and then go.”

“Would she be awake, even?”

“She’s a night owl. I know that.”

“Uhm…”

He ponders. In some way, he’s kind of liking the breeze, the quiet side of this town. But… would Jieun find that weird? Then again, can he say no? You’re ogling at him with these hopeful eyes; maybe you need the rest, after all.

“Okay,” he says; he even thinks you jump a bit in joy, nodding.

“Okay! You’ll like her. We can leave with newfound energy afterwards. Okay, cool.”

That’s all you need to lead the way. You look around a little, making sure you’re approaching the right direction, and when you find your confidence again, you march ahead.

Your walk is energetic, not too idle anymore, your beam as dashing and fervid as ever. Jungkook knows his way around editing programs; he’s added wings to pictures before or removed unwelcome passersby on an otherwise great photo.

He even understands how to surround a body or silhouette with a glow; but he’s never seen it around an actual person outside of all these graphics editors before.

Your body is so clearly encircled by it.

Bedazzling.

Screw the 18th century. Even in these modern times of advancement, Jungkook doesn’t think he needs a camera to commit you to memory.

3:25AM, Her

You avert your eyes from the phone and turn towards Jungkook, reaching him where he’s planted firmly in front of the apartment complex. He’s been waiting, back settled against the wall, and as you near, his eyebrows rise in question.

Your friend didn’t respond until now — but just as you foretold, she’s still awake at this ungodly hour.

“Okay. She’s home, but,” you explain, already ringing the bell to her apartment, “she said she’d be leaving soon. Sounds like she’s in a rush. Typos and all.”

Jungkook waits until the buzzing sound of the opening door ceases and you’ve stepped inside, leading him up the stairs, and then wonders again with big eyes, “And she’ll just let us stay? Alone at her apartment?”

You wave his concerns off with a hand’s gesture, “She trusts me, dude. I’ve done this a couple times.”

“What for?”

Hm… you dive back into the old days. Some new, some old. What were they again? They’re mostly blurred, but some of them are carved in your core memory.

“Oh, just…” you reminisce. “If I wanted to meet guys and wouldn’t want to bring them home back when I was still with my parents? Or when I’d need a night to sober up. They would’ve killed me if I’d come home drunk. And Jieun moved out early.”

“How old is… Jieun anyway?”

Old. Not really, but you like to vex her to the point of a pout. She’s patient, but she’s also an incredibly close friend — you allow yourself to be a brat with her and she allows herself to roll her eyes.

“Early 90s kid?” you guess. “A little older than us.”

‘93, as far as you remember.

“Ah. Damn,” he voices; you don’t know why.

“Okay.” You climb the last steps to the second floor, halting in front of a white door with a copper number six on top of it. Knock thrice. “Here goes.”

She might’ve been getting ready close to the door, working on her shoes or questing for her keys. Because she opens mere three seconds later, with a radiant smile on her face able to melt hearts, and a comfortable attire that’s, however, not comfortable enough to wear at home.

A thin sweatshirt and a bun, loose strands framing her pretty face, and shorts that are definitely meant to be worn outside. She won’t be here for long. And you’re focused on this very fact and her hurry so much that you nearly don’t register how shy Jungkook gets.

His voice is somewhat smaller than before when he looks at her; your eyes shift to him, and he’s blinking before he finally breaks and mutters, “Oh. Hi.”

“Hey!” she retorts; she looks so sweet saying it. You understand his perplexity. “Date?”

“Nah. Just a friend,” you answer, which, yet again — very confusing — makes him hum in question. If he started regarding himself as your date all of a sudden, you swear…

You smile.

“Just a friend,” you repeat.

“Fabulous. So you’re not walking around alone, at least,” Jieun concludes, letting you in. In the living room, a hand on her kitchen island, she points through an open door, “Okay, so, the guest room bed is made. Use blankets on it, if you want to rest.”

Her finger shifts to signal to the entrance you came through, imitates a pulling motion, “Don’t worry about locking the door whenever you leave. Also got some leftover food in the fridge, but there’s also cup ramyeon and some frozen pizza in the freezer. Sorry… I need to go shop—”

But you interrupt, shaking your head, “Oh, no worries, really. We just ate, so we’ll just stay here for a little, work off the food coma and leave. Won’t damage anything.”

“I know you won’t, baby.”

She moves to fetch her purse from the couch, and Jungkook uses the moment to whisper in your ear, “Where is she going anyway?”

You don’t know; you shrug your shoulders, pursing your lower lip, but echo his question a moment later, louder than him, “Where are you going anyway?”

Previously cramming in her purse, checking it for content, she looks at you again, telling you, “Ah… Jongsuk is having a bad night and wants me to come over.” Regarding Jungkook, she adds, “My boyfriend. He’s an insomniac and got stoned tonight, too, and just—”

Jieun blows a raspberry, raising a hand for a whatever gesture, and Jungkook mumbles, “Oof. Sounds…”

“Yeah… I know. In any case. Make yourself comfortable, okay?”

“Yes. Thank you so much.”

“Thanks, Jieun,” you repeat.

She nods once more, waving her tiny hand and flashes one last smile before she’s out the door and has left you in full silence. You shuffle your feet for just a second before you look at him again; he still looks somewhat in a daze.

So you ask, “What’s wrong?”

“Hm? Nothing.”

Nothing, right… that’s what they all say after seeing Lee Jieun for the first time. You try not to think too hard about the teeny tiny sting in your enormous, delicate heart. Only let him know, “Don’t worry too much. What could happen? She does trust me.”

You take a couple steps towards the bedroom she offered you, and you hear him follow. Look at the neatly made bed, a thought occurring; but you don’t entertain it yet. Only add, “Besides, she owes me.”

He chuckles. “That’s how you live your life, huh?”

“It’s alright. We’ll just be here for an hour. She’s known me all her life, so nothing to doubt here. And also, think about it,” the tip of your forefinger taps against your temple, “even if something did happen or went missing, she’d know where to find me and whom to report.”

He waits, ogles at you. Then presses his lips together, nods as if you made all the sense in the world, and lifts a shoulder — agreeing, “If you say so. Then uhm — let’s lay down for a bit?”

“Sure! I’ll just sleep in her room, so you can have your privacy here.”

“Mhm. Okay.”

You stand at the door frame for a moment, feet unmoving.

He’s already turned away. And you regret not walking away when you watch him unabashedly take off the blazer and provide a glimpse to his snatched waist as inked fingers scratch his back briefly, shirt moving up. But then it’s covering his skin again.

Flawless back; pretty golden. A little further up, and you’re sure you would’ve seen strong shoulder blades, too. He’s worn fancy dress shirts at luxurious events before — you know many would kill for his built, because you’ve seen his bicep flex before.

You forget where you are for a second, but when he opts to turn, eyes on you for just a heartbeat, you stir. Blurt out an awkward apology, and then leave. Wish him a good night, barely waiting for one back before you close the door.

You laugh quietly at yourself.

Her room is just next door; you already mentally prepare for a nap. Meanwhile, Jungkook plumps onto the bed, groaning when the comfort hits, and works on getting used to the ceiling, if only briskly.

He only notices how much his head is spinning when he closes his eyes, ready to doze off. Should he set an alarm? He doesn’t want to still be here by the time Jieun returns. Maybe he should tell you, too.

But his body won’t move.

Yet, in the time he’s failed to make up his mind, he suddenly hears a knock at the door again. Must be you — must be telepathy.

He tells you to enter, and you do with a shy demeanour; only thirty seconds must have passed, right? A minute, tops. He looks at you in wonder, and you explain, “She uh— locked her room. No clue where the keys are. Guess that’s why she specifically pointed out the guest room.”

You nibble your lip, getting no answer back. He looks just as much out of ideas as you, and you still refuse to bring back the thought from before; yet, you ask, “What do we do now?”

“Well…” He looks around, though there is not much to take in. “I can sleep on the couch?”

“…The couch is too small.”

“Okay. Then I’ll just sleep on the floor.” He’s already working on getting up, no hesitation, scratching through his now messy hair, feet moving on the fluffy carpet. “I’ll take one of those pillows, though. Carpet should be good eno— what are you doing?”

You’ve charged towards the bed, climbed past him until you’re sitting behind him, facing his back and his craning neck. You say, “I’m not giving you that pillow.”

“Why?”

“You can’t sleep on the floor.”

“…Why not?”

You throw an unbelieving look, as if it’s obvious. Your flat hand gestures towards the carpet vaguely, and you argue, “It’s uncomfortable.”

“Listen, I should. This or the couch, nothing else left.” It’s crazy to you how he doesn’t even consider the bed instead of giving it up for you. “It’s just an hour. Don’t worry about it.” He stretches a hand towards you, curling his fingers in a grabby motion. “Come on. Gimme that.”

You’re astonished — beyond pleased about the fact that he cares like this. That he’s so… mindful and humble. You give up; he won’t falter and you know.

“Okay… then take this blanket, too.”

He grabs the second one that Jieun provided, head bowing a little as he says, “Thank you.”

The proceeding minutes you spend preparing for bed, slightly discomforted by your dress, pass in half-awkward, half-comfortable silence. He lays down on his unusual spot, and you cuddle into the blanket on your light, soft side.

As the rustling of blankets and sheets subsides, it gives way to the sound of the ticking clock; you focus on it, count the clicks like sheep.

But sleep doesn’t quite fall upon you yet, and you guess Jungkook feels similar when he calls your name and asks, “What does she owe you?”

Your head moves towards his voice, even though he can’t see you. “Huh?”

“Jieun. What does she owe you? And your coworker.”

“Oh. Uh. Honestly, just kindness.”

You can already see it — doe eyes rolling at another one of your cryptic answers. You know people don’t fathom your thoughts very well, and some feel annoyed by your dreamy outlook of the world. You don’t mind, but you wonder what he’s thinking.

But all he responds with is, “What?”

“Well, just. They’ve known me for ages. I’ve been there for Jieun for so long, and Jongin has always been so incredibly nice to me. Picked me up when I was dead drunk once and brought me home. Got me medicine and everything. And I’ve lent him some comfort over the years, too.”

It hasn’t been too long, so you remember. You’ve been good friends with him ever since you started your job; a steady part of your team. He and you have got each other’s back.

“These two are friends,” you say, “and I think kindness is the most we can give our loved ones.”

Jungkook hesitates. Have you bored him to sleep? Or is he pondering your words, thinking of you as weird? Maybe not—

Because he actually converses, asking, “You think? Doesn’t that mean we’re just kind to them then, so they can be kind to you in return?”

“I mean… yes and no. Owing might be the wrong word. I’m not nice to others to get something back. I’m like this because I want to be and because the world can be shitty and it’s important to be nice, and in return, I want people to be nice to me, too. It’s not an eye to eye kind of thing, it’s just about. Spreading affection in relationships. It’s what they’re here for.”

“…Hm. Is this why you’re never rude to me? Even when I deserve it,” he asks, registering a hum. “You know… you think really… uniquely.”

This is a nice way to phrase it at least. People like you; you’re good with them. But sometimes, they can be mean, too. Not that you mind. It’s natural — people occur in all types and shapes.

“But is it unique, though? Isn’t it a given?” you question.

“Yeah, probably, I just— never thought of it this deeply.”

“Mmmh. So is me thinking uniquely a compliment? I can’t say.”

He laughs, and you join immediately, exclaiming an, “I’m serious!” in the middle of it all. Jungkook’s snicker is authentic, so you enjoy hearing it; but you like his answer even better.

“Maybe. I just… I feel like a lot of people try to be different these days. Or play a role to be perceived a certain way? But I think you’re genuine — you actually mean the things you say without any hidden intention to make people forcefully like you, right?”

An intention? Oddly phrased. You think, though… that what he said was nice.

Still, you confirm, “I don’t try to be anyone for people to like me.”

“I didn’t say otherwise! This is actually just what I meant. Besides, people like you anyway because you’re you.” As if he’s reading your mind. “That’s what I was saying.”

You hum, blinking at the ceiling and the little modern light hanging there, the beam off. The darkness pleasant. You conjure another question and ask, “So you think me being me is a good thing?”

You always considered it was. You like being you. But Jungkook didn’t like whatever makes up your personality — has this changed? Apparently.

“Of course,” he surprisingly answers, “it’s always a good thing. And just because I disagree with some of your characteristics, it doesn’t mean everybody will.” Oh. Well. But wait— “Or maybe, I’m just a moaner.”

Well.

“That you are,” you verify.

“Damn.”

“But, but— you’re kind, too, you know? Not everyone says the things you just said.”

“Maybe.”

“So…” you stall, rethinking his prior words. “Do you still disagree with all those characteristics of mine?”

Another joyous sound tumbles out of him, much in the form of a breather than a laugh; hushed, but you still hear it clearly. Perhaps you’re being a little awkward; but in all honesty, you hope he’s just finding it amusing, somewhat cute.

“I mean — you’re too blunt. But brave, like, I could never. The thing you did at the shop? Never. But this isn’t bad. And you aren’t bad.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

His voice is a whisper. Reminds you of a feeling akin to temptation; your mind automatically imagines the susurrating sound near your ear, exhaling the very syllable he just did. Frankly, you’re absolutely tortured by the knowledge of him being this close.

That you could probably touch his face if you rolled over to the edge of the bed, letting your arm dangle, seeking his skin. That he’s in the same room, talking to you this gently, saying things that a girl doesn’t hear too often these days anymore.

There it is. The intrusive thought from before… prevailing.

And you’re tortured by it. But mostly, by the image of him standing in front of you between the houses just a little time ago, staring at you, pupils flitting back and forth between your eyes and your lips. How he neared you. How he almost kissed you.

You might’ve joked about it then, but deep down, and especially now, you’re intrigued by the idea. Of the fantasy of a what if — what if he’d actually kissed you?

Taking a deep breath, you look to the side, staring at the door and call, “Hey, Jungkook.”

“Hm?”

“Is it uncomfortable down there?”

“Uh… a little.”

You shuffle at your spot, turning to the side. “Just thinking. What good does it do if we don’t rest well? What are we here for?”

“…What are you talking about?”

Pause. Quietude. You close your eyes, then open them again.

You’re never shy; so you don’t deem it an advantage for yourself to turn timid now either. You tell him, “Come up. I know you want to. I know I want you to.”

He doesn’t say anything; you bite your tongue. Maybe it was a mistake. But then his voice chimes again, wondering, “Are you sure?”

Your answer is immediate.

“Of course. Yes, I’m sure.”

“Okay… okay.”

As he starts to move, you gulp. You make place on the bed, moving to your previous side, pushing the blanket aside in case he wants to slip under it, too. The motions of his silhouette seem uncertain as he makes his way up to you, as if he’s uncomfortable with it.

“I… Was I wrong…? Do you not want to?” you make sure.

“What?” you hear him say; see his head shake. “Ah, that’s not it. Just want to make sure you’re really okay with it. I’m not the type of guy to…”

“I know. It’s fine. I don’t think you are.”

“Okay.” The mattress bulges where he lays down before it evens out again. He emits a couple groaning sounds, probably glad to give his back something proper. You turn to him just when he says, “Honestly… that’s a little better, yeah.”

“Thought so. Are you tired?”

“Definitely.”

“But you’re not sleeping.”

“Because you’re talking.”

Wrong. There was enough silence for him to nod off before. He was the one who started the conversation at all; you were ready to turn and toss and rest eventually.

When you don’t respond, his head turns on his pillow, too; in the darkness that you got used to, you see his eyes twinkle. Both of you know that you’re looking at each other. And he’s kind of close — closer than you thought.

And… if you’re not wrong, he just inched nearer only a nanomoment ago. He repeats in a whisper, once more accusing, “You’re talking, that’s why.”

“That’s really why, huh?”

“Mhm.”

“The only reason there really is?”

“What else could there be?”

You smile, brazen, letting out the courage you’ve gathered, “Well, I know what else it is for me.”

“Yeah?”

Daring a step further, you graze his shirt featherlightly; you don’t know whether he notices. Not until he moves his hand, fingers ghosting near yours.

Waiting until you reveal with sheer, sudden heart palpitations, “I… I want you to kiss me. You do, too, don’t you?”

He inhales, but doesn’t exhale. What does it mean? You don’t know.

You don’t know what it is until you hear the smile in his words, gentle yet tantalising when he says, “…I do.”

“Good. Good. Then kiss me.”

And the rest proceeds without hesitation and without another plea.

His body moves as if on its own accord; he seems possessed, or controlled by a puppeteer. Warm lips lock with yours before you can draw another breath.

They feel soft, full, like tiny pillows, a contrast to the metal of his piercings. And they move gently, so carefully, like he’s still scared of crossing a line despite your permission. But when you lean into him, hoping for more proximity, he blossoms a little. Initiates more.

Oh, he, too, has been waiting for this, hasn't he?

A hand, nearly as warm as his kiss, slithers up to your face, holding you closer to him. The bangs that so often cover his forehead are tickling yours now, his head tilting to give his cute nose more space.

And with that, he deepens the kiss, too. Dares a step further, separating your lips with his, trying things out. He gauges your reaction as the tip of his tongue sneaks its way into the mix, and the moment you do the same, he dives in properly.

Kisses you just a little harder, tasting you, sighing into the movements as if all the weight of the world has dropped off his shoulders. As if he’s relieved, calmed down, resting for the first time tonight.

Yet, at the same time, he’s firing himself up — moving over your body slowly, holding onto your mouth to his best abilities, as if you’d disperse if he let go for too long. As if you’d change your mind.

He cages you in to keep you underneath, not touching your face anymore but shoving his fingers into your already tousled hair. If you were still in your right mind, you’d recognise how insane this situation is. Your younger self would’ve never predicted such a moment to ever become part of your life.

But it is… it is so clearly being played into your hard drive; somehow, you already know it’ll remain stuck in your memory: the way he’s kissing you, so thirsty, so insatiable. How he’s sighing, relaxed, yet sporting an audible heartbeat against your chest.

He uses moments of switching sides to breathe but continues right away; the keenness drives you crazy. You touch his shoulders and then wrap your arms around him firmly, making him hasten closer until he’s nearly falling onto you.

What in the heavenly make out sessions is this…

It’s nasty, yet sweet. Followed by quick breaths; it takes merely a minute until you feel his lower body grinding into you, his jeans tight around his crotch all of a sudden. And the second you realise he’s hardening beneath them, your body reacts.

Reacts so effectively.

Your lower tummy tickles, dampness pooling below as he pushes into you again, harder this time. You moan, enticed by your goosebumps and the heavy bulge. Solid enough for you to crave him within a moment’s notice.

And it only worsens threefold when he whispers, “Fuck… Somebody really knows how to kiss, huh?”

“You’re talking. What was this—” He so rudely interrupts with another peck, and you laugh into it. “Yeah, this…”

Your last word dissipates like candle smoke; you don’t even know why you bother to speak. Your voice is barely perceptible when his teeth remove the short sleeve of your dress, kissing your shoulder and then down to your cleavage.

It’s easy to remove your dress; it’s light, summer-y — but he doesn’t bare you just yet. Plays around at the mounds of your tits until he pushes the neck of the dress down a bit, asking, “May I take it off?”

Oh, if you could count the times you’ve imagined his veiny hands removing this damn dress just in the last fifteen minutes…

“Of course,” you permit, “do I look like I’d reject you?”

“Mmmh.” The hum is proud, satisfied, vocalised amidst another kiss to your clavicles. “Just making sure.”

Soft, warm hands trail up your leg, leaving a path of another set of goosebumps. You want him to stay right there on your thigh, knead the flesh, press into it, showcase the lust he feels in the beguiling pain.

But instead, he pushes up your dress, fingers ghosting over your ass — and when he doesn’t find your panties but only bare skin, he stops kissing you. Looks at you. Makes out the string of your thong a second later — in the dark, you discern the way his lips round in captivation.

He’s loving this.

He tugs at the string and lets it snap back into place; you gasp even though it doesn’t hurt, but it drives you mad when he states, “Wow. Very intriguing.”

Leaving it at this for just now, he kisses you again, tongues mingling once more before he releases a sharp, nearly aggressive hiss and mumbles, “Holy fuck. I can’t stop.”

“I didn’t tell you to stop,” you guarantee.

“Good. Good, good, good.”

The dress surrounds your waist now, stopping below your breasts, and Jungkook journeys down to drag his lips around the spots he hasn’t touched yet. As if he’s trying to familiarise himself with all of you, working towards the goal of memorising you entirely.

His teeth scrape at your pelvis just lightly, seemingly contemplating whether he wants to destroy these panties or not — but then decides against it. You wouldn’t mind; you’re not showing anybody anything of you tonight but him.

And you’re already such a mess; breathing so irregularly, letting out his name and quiet sighs. He should know he could do basically anything. That you’re ready for him.

But instead, he only curses again, sucking at your skin harshly, nails digging into your hips. And then, from below, you hear him say, “Want you to suck my dick so bad.” He moves up, fingertips on your cheek, rubbing himself against your underwear, and questions, “Will you suck my dick, baby?”

Oh, he didn’t just…

Oh, the way the pet name screws with your head is irreversible. You feel sick at the mention, breathing out hard, about to get up at the speed of light to swallow him fully; to the hilt.

But you won’t give him the satisfaction yet; you’ve gotten used to the darkness, and seeing the hazy insanity in his eyes spurs you on to play with him a bit more. So you lift your body, giving him hope, but then say, “I have a better idea.”

“Ah? Where are you going?”

“Wait.”

He quietens. Falls to the side and onto his back as he watches whatever you’re trying to do unfold. You look back at him for just a blink of an eye, but you immediately perceive the hand cupping his clothed dick, moving a bit, up and down.

“Okay. Should work on this first,” you say, straddling him backwards.

You hike up your dress more, baring your back to him, and you instantly hear the breath he releases. Feel the palm touching your spine, grazing it; you imagine huge eyes ogling at you like he’s reached nirvana. You so hope he’s looking at you like this.

“My God…” he only mutters, however, proving your point when he opts to get up. But you turn as much as you can, a flat hand pushing him down again, to which he complains, “What?”

“I told you to wait, silly. I’m not going anywhere.”

“You sure? You’re being pretty mean right now.”

“I’m not being mean. You’re just not patient,” you laugh. “Give me a second and I’ll wreck your world, ‘kay?”

“Ah?”

“Mhm.”

“That I wanna se— oh. Oh.”

Exactly.

Once you’re done pulling off the dress, you shift back, enough for your pussy to align with his gorgeous face. Jungkook instinctively grabs your ass to pull you lower, and you chuckle at the restless gesture.

But you need to focus; and as best and tidily as you can, you unbutton his jeans, zipping them open until you detect his shorts. He raises his hips to help you, and you bite your lower lip, crazed by the sight that awaits you once the jeans are halfway down.

The bulge is big indeed. The imprint is insane; the light from outside allows glimpses, and you salivate, bowing your head to kiss him above his underwear, feeling him stir. And he imitates, blowing against your wetness, his finger — middle one? — curling around the string digging between your ass cheeks.

When he frees your pussy, you feel it. It hits the air in the room coldly, a contrast to his hot breath. A second more and you might drip into his tantalising mouth, just how you’re drooling over the cock you finally set free.

It springs out, veiny under your touch. Hard. Thick and long. Everything good, a fucking ideal package. You scold him, “You’ve been hiding this from me?”

“Huh? I wasn’t hiding.”

“Now I realise just how mean you are, man,” you say, shaking your head, spitting onto the slit before wiping it off again with the tip of your tongue. He swears again. “Could’ve had this make me hoarse so long ago.”

“Fuck,” he replicates, “stop talking, or I’ll fuck this mouth of yours. You want to be hoarse so bad, then try me.”

“Is this a threat? You really think I won’t let you? Stay right there, little—” You look again. “Big man. You can do whatever you want, but wait a second, alright?”

“Nah. You’re not the only one teasing. You brat,” Jungkook whispers sharply, delivering a smack to your ass; you gasp. “I just…”

You don’t know what he just — you only know that he’s attaching his mouth to your cunt right away, thong pushed aside, diving in with a tongue so eager. You squint your eyes shut, lips parting, calling his name as he holds you there roughly.

He soon wraps his arms around your hips, like a belt, lips intense as he kisses you even wetter. The sounds he eludes are dirty, sinful; and the feeling of his piercings doesn’t add to your sanity.

You decide to not let this distract you; he’s competitive, you realised, but you are, too. So you lean in, lips wrapping around the tip. Your right hand enfolds his cock, pumping him, tracing every firm vein that protrudes. He’s so pretty all around.

“Shit,” you whisper, hoping he doesn’t hear; only continue to work your tongue around the head, setting the nerves alight as he’s doing for you.

You kiss down the shaft, licking and humming to create a sort of vibration. And then, you take him in as much as you can. Despite being large, barely fitting, soon hitting your throat, you try. Hollow your cheeks, bop your head, gifting him your attention.

But it’s hard. So hard because—

God, he’s lapping you up so good.

So hungry. Out to kill you as he releases the prior belt, bringing two fingers to your pussy and thrusting them into you slowly. Mouth and digits; both at once. Thumb against the clenching hole between your ass.

He’s distracted every now and then, much like you, but he still maintains a steady pace. Cruel… so cruel. Those damn fingers propelling into you, harder sometimes before they slow down again. Curling to hit you just right, massaging the rough, walnutty spot.

Oh, Jungkook knows… knows exactly what to do.

They don’t make men like him anymore.

Your ass clenches when his skills exceed your expectations and he rubs your insides particularly well, mouth just right above your clit as the tongue circles around it. It’s nearly overwhelming; you could cry with this mouthful of dick impaling your throat.

He feels so good on you. So good in you. You want all of you filled, not just your mouth. So you soon let go with a plop, a string of saliva so lewdly connecting your mouth and his member, and you wipe your mouth.

Tell him, “This should be enough.”

And he agrees immediately, smacking his lips, as if licking up the remnants of his food, “Fuck yes. Enough.”

You want to get into the next position, put in some work, but what you don’t expect is that Jungkook is already planning a step ahead. Tapping your ass with his big manly palm, pushing you off of him until you’re crawling on all fours.

Submitted to him. And you don’t mind a bit — just for now, just for him, you’ll give into this because you’ve been craving it. It’s okay; you vow to yourself that in a while, you’ll wreck his shit just as much.

On your elbows and knees, you hear him shifting, the mattress dipping, his knees nearing you and closing your legs in. The palm covering the right side of your ass causes it to jiggle, and when you push your butt towards his pelvis, he praises, “The way you know what to do without me needing to tell you. How convenient.”

“Well,” you breathe out, “it’s not my first rodeo. But do make it the best… okay?”

“No pressure at all, huh? I’ll try my best.”

You want to react, bring a laugh straight out of your throat, but Jungkook is faster. The reaction comes alright, but not as you wanted it to. But rather in a high-pitched moan, arms quivering when he fists his cock, guiding it to your leaking cunt, and rubs the tip between your pussy folds.

You reckon he’s testing out how eager you already are; you contemplate on telling him. On pleading, on saying something that might drive him to action. You don’t mention a single word, though; only let your ass speak once more, steering towards him until he gets the message.

He must have.

Because he clicks his tongue as if to admonish you for your shortage of patience, though only briefly before he surrenders to the itch you cause. Scratching without hesitation now, he finally helps you lose your damn panties and then dips himself into you slowly.

Of course; with a length like his, there’s no way you’d be able to survive a quick push. Jungkook knows to be cautious, penetrating you sweetly; an oxymoron in a moment like this. Your fingers digging into the sheets reveal as much; there’s not much going on yet, but you’re already holding onto the soundness of your mind so desperately.

“Shit, what the fuck,” you murmur, your turn to let out profanities; you’re sure this isn’t your last. “You scared of something, Jeon? I’m… I have an IUD.”

“Scared? No. You’re not an idiot, right?” he whispers. “You would’ve told me if you couldn’t do it like this. Much rather…” He breathes heavily between his words. “I’m taking you in, y’know? Enjoying — fuck — how wet and warm you are… Gonna wreck you raw, though, no p-problem.”

No, your foul words were certainly not the last for tonight; his dick is just halfway through when he stops and another tumbles out of you. He drags the thickness back, then inside again.

Your walls are occupied to their last inch, and you know you could take all of him if you just gave yourself some time — but somehow, his care turns you on even more.

Goddamn, he’s good. All of him — his dick, his voice, his mouth, his touch. He’s so— nnghh…

You have never witnessed his fingers do much more than take the pictures you love. Whenever he operates the button with his forefinger, flexing the inked crown above his knuckle, you already know the man has a talent unmatched.

But right now… right now you have an entirely different perception of these same digits.

Like, when he leans in a bit, still deep inside you, undoing your bra in a smooth motion. Or when he caresses your back, along your spine, contradicting the touch with a harsher, harder jab now.

And shit, when he pulls your ass cheeks apart, digging in further, fucking through your seeping hole until he’s covered in slick, too. It must look so good to him; incredibly memorable.

Your whimpers are quiet and gentle, matching the way he fucks you, only rising in volume when he decides to push another inch in. You behave; you whine softly; that is until all of a sudden, he pulls back most of his cock and shoots back in, colliding with your ass with a slapping sound.

Yelping, you hold the sheets until your fingers hurt, and he bolts forwards, a hand slamming your mouth shut and muffling your mewls. Way too close to your ear, he says, “Sh sh sh… my God. Jieun has neighbours, babe — don’t spoil her reputation.”

He proceeds to kiss the skin under your ear, taking your arms captive until they’re pinned to your back. Fingers intertwine messily, holding your limbs in place, and as he frees your mouth again, you laugh — it’s all you can do to not feel too weirded out by the mention of Jieun’s name right now.

You tell him, “Use my panties then.”

“Your panties, huh? Do you want me to?” You nod, but he’s not obliging enough to give into your wishes. Teasing you to no end. “Nah. I’ll just…”

Jungkook doesn’t finish the sentence; what he does is much more alluring, nearly forcing tears of lust to your waterline. He grabs the back of your neck, urging you to look at him, and just as you register his face close to yours, he kisses you again.

Your body immediately blossoms. You breathe as much as the kiss allows, yielding to his tongue. Let him push you down and into the mattress, imprisoning you under him. And he kisses you… kisses you… kisses you more…

Basks in your dimmed moans as he hits from behind again, hard. Sheathes himself inside you thoroughly and with impact; he’s enjoying the fact that you want to yell, but need to restrain yourself at this time of the night.

Because he’s right. You don’t want Lee Jieun to earn looks in the morning because of you.

As if provoking you, he blatantly asks, “You good?”

“Yes— yes!”

“Mhm…”

He’s out of breath; can barely emit another word. But he doesn’t waste any moment at all; kisses your neck, bites your earlobe. Pushes his hands under your body to get ahold of your tits. Fucks you into space, lifting one of your hands to your face, entangling his fingers with yours.

You shift up and down the mattress, just a little; the position, with him on you, doesn’t allow too many extreme movements, and you’re more than fine with it. There’s something about him going unhinged on you like this.

But… it does awaken the need to retaliate, too.

So you use the opportunity when he decides to pause, running out of energy, gasping for breath. He leaves you empty and yearning, pulling back and sitting up, and judging from the touch on your tummy, you assume he wants to flip you on your spot.

Instead, however, you turn on your own accord, both palms that he held captive minutes ago shoving at him. He produces a strange sound as he falls backwards, landing on the mattress and onto the pillow with big eyes that almost don’t fit his Greek God-esque physique.

Goodness, the damp dark hair. The abs. The pecs. The nipples…

You might dribble onto his sweaty, shiny skin. And you don’t veil your innermost thoughts this time, straddling him as you say, “My turn. Need to ride you so bad.”

He visibly relaxes; leads his fingers to your hips, thumb drawing patterns on them. His tongue darts out to play with the lip rings, and he eyes you up and down. He’s taking you in for the first time properly, just as you are him.

Just as your eyes drifted over his muscular body, he now makes stops along the journey — your pussy on the length of his cock. The tits and the perked nipples. The ruined hair, sticking to your collarbones.

You wonder how he likes what he sees.

Probably enough if he can respond with something like, “I won’t stop you.”

Good to know.

So you take a comfortable seat on top of him, still keeping him down, lining up your sex with his. When you welcome him in again this time, you do so fully. No slow torture, no waiting. You claim your throne until your ass hits his hardened balls.

He says, not quite expecting an answer, so you don’t give one, “You’ll kill me today, right?”

And then you start. Put in all the effort you can gather. He feels heavenly inside you, the perfectly curved length moving just the way it needs to. His groans and calls of your names sound promising, telling; you suppose you’re doing a good enough job if his eyes roll back like this.

The hands on your hips push into your flesh more, and when you remove one and bring it to your mouth, sucking his forefinger with your eyes set on him, he loses his shit. Starts pumping up from below, meeting your up-and-down ministrations.

“Shi— what— do you think,” he attempts, stagnant breathing, “you’re doing…”

But he’s grunting in ardour, so you don’t stop; don’t let him take over fully just yet. No — you roll your hips, bend your back, catch a patch of his hair and then angle your body to crash your lips onto his.

The kiss weakens his defences. For a moment, you do feel his nails bruising your skin, but another second later, his touch is as soft as a feather. He’s so ultimately at your mercy that he lets you trace his abs and kiss his pecs.

Lets you get into a crouch, your palms settling below his chest for support. And then… then you navigate north and south, repeatedly, fucking him into you with vigour. He throws his head back, but then looks at you again, blinking fast before his eyes squint shut once more.

“The fuck are you—” he tries, but you start circling his cock again, moving in eight-curves, seeking support in his biceps.

“What?” you voice. “Not good?”

“You fucking— kidding me?” His lower lip trembles when he parts his mouth. You see it even with the lights dimmed. “This is such… a good fucking pussy. I was an idiot to push you aside.”

You’re too dazed to really pout, but you do hear the undertone; ask to clarify, “You’re just saying that f-for… getting my pussy, huh?”

“What— no. Fuck no. Look at me.” His hand reaches out, fingers poking into your cheeks, and he pulls you down to him, makes you meet his eyes. You slow down. “I wouldn’t just do this for any pussy— I… not with you. I don’t just. I don’t just go home with anybody. ‘Kay?”

His words bloom in your chest like a bouquet of flowers. In such a vulgar moment, you shouldn’t be feeling like this, but you can’t help but acknowledge the warmth spreading throughout your body. Burning up your already aflame muscles.

You want to know more; so you query sneakily, “What does this mean?”

“What it means?” he echoes, words blurry, as if drunk. “That you’re beautiful. And… honestly, kind of cool. So annoying but so fucking funny and— hot—”

“I am? Look at this,” you say, still moving but tired; touching his face, his cheeks, his sweet nose, “look at you…”

“No.” He grits his teeth. You don’t know what comes over him, but he’s inhaling way too deeply, lightly aggressive again as he retorts, “Look at fucking you.”

And with that, he gets what he desired earlier; flips you over, climbing over you. With your shield lowered, you didn’t expect this, and now you’re right where you began. And for some reason, the sharp jaw, the furrowed eyebrows, the starved look hits you even harder than before.

The many inches he sports fell out as he took over, but as he plunges into you again with embarrassing ease, something feels different. How he looks at you. How he touches you, pushing your hair back, kissing your lips with such softness.

And how he holds you when you finally see the stars you waited for, his face in your neck, his thumb on your cheek, his palm on your jaw. Kissing your shoulder, delighted as you seek an anchor in his back, tightening around him impossibly as he fucks you through your high and your broken moans.

“Jungkook—” you repeat over and over, and in return, he mutters constant, “I know, I know.”

Again and again and again until his sounds become more uncurbed. Only syllables, rumbling, his chest vibrating against yours until he lifts himself up and retracts his cock.

His pupils shake as he jerks himself off, and you know what he’s seeking, quickly getting to your knees, helping out. You replace his hand with yours, sticking out your tongue before you engulf his dick rapidly.

In surprise, he lets out, “Oh, fff—”

Shit, how he sounds. And how wicked he feels in your mouth, tasting like you, tasting like him. Wet and slippery, his balls hard when you cup them. And then— a mere moment later, he’s shooting ropes of white down your throat.

You’ll never get used to the feeling. You didn’t with your exes, didn’t with any other guy you’ve been with. It’s sudden, your gag reflex kicking, but you don’t want to stop until he has.

Sticky and hot, you let him; look up to him. His jaw glimmers due to the sheen of sweat, and he holds your hand to keep himself upright. Nearly growls when he’s done, and then calms down bit by bit. Pulls out of you. Plumps back onto his ass.

Catches his breath; and once the two of you have relieved your burning lungs, you with your legs under your butt, you look at each other again. A sudden laugh. He lets his head drop onto his shoulder, and then shakes it before getting back on his knees, nearing your joyous form.

The last kiss of the night is endlessly more chaste. No tongue, no making out. Just a couple pecks, a hand around the nape of your neck, noses grazing. Once, twice. And then, he’s smiling again.

You tell him, “Can’t believe this actually happened.”

“Crazy… right?”

“Crazy, yeah. We…” You gulp. “We can leave it right here, though. Guess we were both riled up.”

He nods, humming, looking to the side. “We could. But we don’t have to. It felt too good to forget, you know?”

You gleam and glow; if you could, you’d curl your fingers into fists, screeching like an excited high schooler in her room, acknowledged by a crush. But you only press your lips together, corners twitching up, cheeks hot.

Then, you say, “You know what… I might just agree.”

“Good.” Another one of his stares to the side, through the door of the room. “You think we should very quickly and very harmlessly use Jieun’s shower? She probably wouldn’t mind.”

“I don’t think she would. But she’d certainly know what happened.”

“Least of our concerns,” he argues, getting up stark naked. He pats your thigh and then tugs at your arm, adding, “We’ll be tidy. And then we can rest a bit and leave. Am too fired up anyway.”

You know things might change again once you’ve slipped into your clothes and walked out into the night air. Perhaps the passion was reserved for this very room, actually a result of unbridled lust and tension.

But you think it’s okay. It’s okay as you giggle in the shower, flirting and bantering.

Because even if you part from Jeon Jungkook and all this as just a saccharine memory, you’re ready to seize just a little more of this stolen moment before reality sets back in.

5:12AM, Him

Whether it’s the numbers glowing on his digital watch or the fact that the two of you didn’t rest as much as you’d anticipated after all, he doesn’t know.

The residual heat of the past hour has warmed his body and relaxed his muscles; your touches still haunt him, crawling over his skin and sitting on his knees, tempting them to buckle. And your voice, your sounds… like a ghost in his mind.

And you urging him to climb the nearby hill with you, surprisingly steep, doesn’t help. He doesn’t know why you’d choose such a place at such an hour. The occasional forest around you is dark, chirping, and the road is empty.

Perhaps you feel secure in the presence of another; in this sense, it’s even flattering that you trust him this much.

But he’ll admit that his still wobbly condition and this stop of the night are slowly bringing him to his limits. The blazer, at least, is already hanging over his arm, giving him more space to breathe.

You’re piloting the way, careful, navigating with the help of the light beaming from the occasional street lamps. Jungkook sighs in a half-complaint when the road doesn’t end, nobody around far and wide.

You’re similarly out of breath when you turn to look over your shoulder, barely for a moment before you continue to escort him further up. Then, you encourage, “Come on! We just rested. How are you already tired?”

“Woman. We’ve been walking for a pretty long time.”

“Uhmmm,” you exclaim, swaying when you pull your hair over your left shoulder, “tell me something. What’s your sleep schedule usually like?”

Well, shit.

Jungkook can already tell what you’re referring to, but the counterargument already sits ready in his brain, just in case. Yet, he hesitates. Studies his surroundings to make sure he knows the way back, stalling on purpose, and when you ask, “And?”

He answers, “Uh. Late. I slept at 7AM just last week.”

“What?!” Your voice is high-pitched, in disbelief, and whatever point you wanted to make is stuck in your throat upon the revelation he divulged. “Holy shit, Jungkook.”

“Yeah, but like,” he immediately works on justifying, making use of the comeback he’d already thought out, “I don’t walk around town, you know? I spend these nights eating or singing or—”

“Woah. You sing?”

“Yes, but. I will not sing to you now.”

He catches up with you in one long step, regarding your countenance. Even in the dim light and the pitch dark, he recognises the roll of your eyes, as if to say, “I wasn’t even going to ask.”

But instead of vocalising that very overt thought, your answer comes as smoothly as silk, “It’s fine. You sang to me plenty tonight.”

Jungkook nearly chokes on his spit, disguising his surprise as in the hike reasoned exhaustion. His mind needs a moment to fix itself, but when the balance is restored again, he wisecracks, “You’re one to talk. May I remind you of what you sounded like earlier?”

“You can. But I do remember myself, thank you.”

Damn it. You’re a step ahead all the time. He can’t even outsmart you the way he wants to.

“Way to diss me. You’re hardcore,” he complains, “and here I thought you were kind and sweet and all of that.”

Jungkook nearly retracts his statement, because you throw such a perplexed and disbelieving stare back that he shrinks, reprimanded, “Can’t I be both? A woman can certainly be both, man.”

“Of course,” he agrees, hands up as if he’s being arrested, “of course. You’re both, for sure.”

He anticipates more scolding and scowls, but it seems you’re satisfied with the response he gives. You grant him a pleased, lopsided smirk that resembles his own, and then sigh into the night air, long and deep before your breath morphs into—

A mixture of a gasp and a shriek.

“Wh—” Jungkook blurts, barely registering the movement scurrying from the left side of the forest into the trees right of him. “The fuck.”

And just as fast as your gasp appeared, it diminishes, too, turning into a throaty laugh. Jungkook listens in to the echo of the rustles, still seeing the bushes move; whether because of the animal that just flit past or the breeze, he can’t say.

His eyebrows shoot up when he looks at you, coming down from the quiet chuckle, and he only realises that your elated joy stems from the way he’s standing right now.

He must’ve instinctively dashed forward, an arm in front of your body, shielding it with his. It was just a squirrel, and in all honesty, it is the two of you who are trespassing, disturbing the forest life with your presence at such a time.

Yet, his reaction must’ve been immediate enough to protect you from whatever loomed in the dark, and you seem to like it for some reason. Because as he clears his throat and lets his arm sink, all you comment is a fascinated, content, “Wow.”

“Uh… all good.”

“Yes. All good indeed.”

Your voice is tinged with a combination of gratification and tease, as if you’re one utterance away from adding a little, “My knight in shining armour.”

Instead, you bite your tongue and look around; Jungkook sees what you perceive a mere moment later. The surroundings clear, the forest less dense; on the left side, a vast opening appears, a wide path ending in a… cliff?

And behind that, the town.

If there was a soundtrack to his life, he’d probably hear violins playing right now. Reminiscent of the wind, perhaps accompanied by piano keys that sound like the softly glimmering stars above.

The picture is breathtaking. Not that he hasn’t been at such a spot before — he grew up in a big, mountainous city.

But since he didn’t expect for the hill’s peak to allow such art, he’s a little more overwhelmed than he expected to be.

From behind, he hears you say, “In any case. Let’s rest here?”

“Uh-huh.”

It’s hard to avert his eyes. All night long, he’s only felt like this once; this marks the second time.

Gratefully, he walks up to where you’re making yourself comfortable, flattening your dress and settling your bag on your lap. You pull a thin, short cardigan out of it, slipping into it. It’s certainly cooler up here.

And then, you pat the spot next to you, and he lets himself fall with a sigh; it’s been a long night, and despite the restful-not-restful hour you spent at Jieun’s, it feels as though he’s truly easing up just now.

Jungkook puffs out a breath and takes another look. Properly this time, blinking as if this could help his eyes focus better. Gorgeous. He can see the river from here, flowing through the town in curves, like a snake.

He can’t see the entire city, but most of it; it goes up and down. Skyscrapers and then cosy houses like the ones before again. Mountains far away and the lights of the amusement park somewhere in the east. They’re the brightest of them all.

“Wait,” he says; you oblige, waiting, watching as he heaves the camera out of his bag.

He only registers you from his side vision, but he thinks you’re wearing a smile; confirmed when you breathe to speak again, and his eyes drift to you, immediately decoding the pride in your sparkling pupils.

Why do you look proud? Then again, he guesses he would, too, if he showed you something that he loved and you enjoyed it, too.

Thinking about it, he kind of wants to do it someday.

He pulls at his lower lip, releasing it soon, blinking again as if to release the thought. Instead, he listens as you ask, “You’ve never been here before?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Hidden spot then.”

“It’s beautiful. Look there,” he points to a spot that you carefully follow, even squinting an eye shut; it makes him smile. “That’s the ferris wheel in the amusement park. Can you see? Wait.”

The camera comes to use when he points the lens at the direction he signalled towards, nimble hands working on zooming in. The picture unfocuses before the lights of the amusement park flicker again.

It’s late, he thinks; then again, the summer is coming to an end, the last nights used to keep such attractions open late. September will bring forth grey clouds again, leaving behind the prior season’s heat. Raining down on him, forcing the leather jacket out of his closet.

He likes it that way.

No offence to the summer whatsoever; but he likes the fresh gust dishevelling his soft hair. Likes it when the rain patters against the window glass so softly. He sleeps better that way, too.

Barely sitting for a moment, Jungkook already gets to his feet, nearing the edge until he’s kneeling on the ground. The distance has only faded by a couple feet, not much of a difference. But the feeling of the city nearing still persists somehow, tickling his mind just right.

He doesn’t know how long he squats there against the backdrop of the luminescent sea, but when he comes back to you, you’re still sporting that excited smile, eyebrows high. Your eyes fall to the camera, humming when he says, “Look. There.”

He magnifies the picture, every spot of it good enough to pin against the living room wall. Carefully, he hands you the camera; surprising, because he regards this pricey piece of plastic as sacred. You probably don’t know how big of a deal it is that he lets you handle it.

If you did, you’d never let him live it down.

You scoot closer, your temple now nearly touching his. You stare with an interest he hasn’t witnessed too often before. People do not care much about pictures of scenery; in the age of media, how could they anyway? When every stock picture is already memorised and used to the point of insignificance?

But you — your mouth parts as you switch around, taking in details.

“Good?” he asks.

“Beautiful,” you sincerely mutter, returning the camera to him. You hold it like a kitten; perhaps you do know what the gesture meant. “This is exactly why I wanted us to come here.”

The moment is so serene, like balm, and he nods along with your words, calmly conversing. So it takes a heartbeat to truly untangle your words in his mind and tie them with the meaning your intention conveys.

He assumed you were just showing him random spots of the town, to allow him a glimpse into your mind and to crack your true nature. All this time, he thought you wanted to lead him to bright spaces to lighten up his perception of you.

But what you’re doing instead is turn the spotlight towards him and what he loves.

“You… did it for me?” he asks.

You, casually, as if the thoughtful act doesn’t flood him with serotonin, reply, “Yeah. To capture a couple pretty pictures. You really do love it, so.”

“I do… wow, thanks.” He pauses. Looks down to the buttons on his camera, to his hands; then back to you. “You thought of it all, right? The nice places and the short rest at Jieun’s. Now this.”

“Hmm, tried as much as possible so spontaneously.”

“Thank you. Really.”

You return his gratitude with a polite nod, leaning away until you touch the backrest of the bench. Jungkook indulges in some more that nature offers, toying with the settings, zooming in just to observe sights from a closer point.

He doesn’t notice when you sigh or when you zone off; or when your thoughts shift back to the minutes and hours of the night. He doesn’t notice; and in return, you don’t know that he’s still thinking about the intention that brought him here; that you were attentive enough to truly show that some people appreciate art.

There aren’t only fleeting nights and then forgotten memories. Because this… this right here is a core memory.

Because of you.

Are you thinking the same? Are you proud that his enmity has faded, replaced by a tender smile? Satisfied that your efforts were worth it after all — a goal reached that you set for yourself earlier tonight.

Let me show you pretty places until the sun comes up, and if you still hate me by then, I will never talk to you again.

But…

He’d love to talk to you again.

However, your mind hasn’t quite drifted in this direction; in truth, he honestly can’t analyse or interpret you at all, because the question you pose next is far from what he’d been thinking about.

“Talking about pretty… uhm. Did you think Jieun was pretty?”

Jungkook blinks. One eyebrow cocks up; the camera drops back onto his lap. He flashes you a squinted look, a confused laugh erupting before he asks back, “What?”

“Ah, don’t lie. She’s very pretty.”

“Sure? She is.”

He’s nearly forgotten what she looked like. But beauty is still perceived and remembered — he guesses he found her good-looking.

“And she’s everyone’s type,” you prod, “what do you think, though? If she didn’t have a boyfriend, could you imagine liking her?”

Jungkook thinks about it. Not because he wants to, but because you seem to have found an odd interest in whatever attracts him; maybe your questions are leading up to something. So he’ll play along.

“Hmm… Maybe,” he answers.

“So she is your type.”

Or maybe, you’re trying to get something out of him that you want to hear specifically. You seem so shy about it all of a sudden; not necessarily an adjective he’d assign to you.

And coming from you of all people, he somehow does not find the topic interesting. It’s weird; he doesn’t want to talk about it; he doesn’t care about Jieun, either.

So he shrugs his shoulders indifferently, lifting his camera up again. He points it at you, eternalising your surprised expression just when you open your mouth to leave out a shocked, “Hey!”

“That’s what you get for asking such strange stuff.”

“It’s not strange! I’m just small-talking.”

“You do not small-talk.”

“It could be a deeper conversation if you just admitted it.”

He chuckles, turning his body towards you, half his leg on the bench, “Admit what?”

“The type thing!”

“Sure. I don’t just have one type, though, you know?”

The dispute brought your bodies a little closer, your face far enough for him to still identify his surroundings, but near enough for him to see your eyes twinkling. The light is dancing in them. And it’s much easier to focus on it when you silence like this.

Just for a second.

Because you breathe in again ten seconds later, lightly slapping the thigh resting on the bench. The touch is cursory, tiny, nothing to overthink about — but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want it to linger.

In some way, it still does.

You ask, “Okay? What are your types then?”

“Different girls.” This time, only one shoulder shoots up. His eyes match his pensive hum. “Whoever suits me. Pretty girls but also nice girls. Especially nice girls.”

“Alright, be honest,” you begin, mimicking his position until your leg lifts onto the bench, knee nearly touching his. You’re warming up now. Finally spitting the true question soon, “Do you think I’m pretty?”

Cute.

But he’s not giving in this easily.

He smirks; he feels the dimple on one side of his lopsided smile the moment you look at it. You’re distracted enough — so he uses the mental absence to attack you with yet another picture.

For a couple blinks, you’re startled — but as he reacts to his own nonsense with a content chortle, proud of his prank, you sigh. His shoulders rise with his sneering joy, head low as he inspects the picture just taken on his camera.

He zooms into your face, mouth open and eyes wide. You do look so pretty, he thinks — better even since you washed most of your make up off. Yet, he can’t contain himself when he shows you the screen, telling you, “You look alright.”

You laugh, rolling your eyes and your gaze to the view; your giggles start quietly, and then mix with his. Before—

They soon become part of a bad harmony as more voices join your very own night. Somebody is nearing. Jungkook hears the laughter already, but the road is curved and dark; so he can’t see them yet.

You might not have expected this, because you push closer to Jungkook on reflex; just at the same time as him. He didn’t know he had it in him to always stay so alert around you. Ready to throw himself at intruders.

Crazy.

But once the voices grow in volume, the two of you are soon met with a couple walking past. They’re in love, because amidst their titter, there’s another lewd sound. Or maybe, not too bad; playful kisses?

Yes.

The guy — he’s smooching his girl’s cheek, releasing with a, “Mwah” each time. Your initial surprise soon fades and turns into delight; Jungkook sees it in the way your smile returns. And in the furrowed yet amused eyebrows…

When the couple spots the two of you, they gasp; the girl’s hand immediately bolts to her chest, as if she just encountered a wild boar. But she catches herself soon, apologising, “Oh. Sorry. We’re sorry.”

You respond with an, “It’s okay!” Jungkook shakes his head politely to shrink their worries. They’ve walked away as soon as they came, but he still hears the woman’s scolding, effect lessened by the still occurring belly laugh, “I told you to calm yourself—”

As the world quietens again, Jungkook huffs, tilting his head as he deduces, “So late and yet… Not much of a hidden spot after all.”

“It feels like an ancient hill to me. I don’t often meet others here.” You breathe in the wind, then tongue your cheek. “They probably didn’t even notice where they were going. People in love never do.”

“I guess so.”

He guesses so.

It’s been a while since he fell in love.

Your head bobs once more before you lose yourself in the skyline, sucking in more of the crisp air that’ll grace you in the upcoming months. Fall is upon the town. He inbreathes the peace, too.

His hands operate on their own; one last time, he lifts it towards you, peeks through the lens again, adjusting the focus until the object clicks again. You’re not looking at him; he caught your side profile, this time not out of mock or tease.

He means it. And you seem to know.

Because when you look at him this time, you’re not mad or irritated.

Only look at him softly, a smile that truly matches the heights you took him on.

READ BELOW!!

the fic isn't over yet – as always, tumblr has a 1k block limit that makes our lives harder than necessary lmao. read the last scene and the remaining 3k words of meraki here 🥰

#jungkook fluff #bts fluff #jungkook smut #bts smut #jeongguk smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts x you #bts imagines #jungkook fic #jungkook

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sugoroo · 9 days ago

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#AND THEY WERE ROOMMATES...

ʚɞ summary: the chronicles of what happens when you share a living space with the jjk men: expect tension, embarrassing revelations and (of course) séx! . . . ft. gojo, geto, toji, choso + nanami.

warnings. fem!reader, masturbation, panty stealing, plushie humping in choso's, penetration (p in v), doggystyle, oral (f receiving), 18+ minors dni.

SATORU GOJO — THE LOUD ONE!

satoru gojo is the most irritating, annoying and overly loud roommate you could possibly have.

at all hours of the day, he can be heard through the thin walls separating your rooms doing one (or all) of the following things: shouting down the phone to his bestfriend suguru, raging at his teammates for losing a match in a video game... and even jerking off.

yes, that's right.

and whatever satoru is doing to himself in there simply cannot feel good enough that it warrants the sheer amount of obnoxious moans that he releases; you're sure of it. he has to be playing it up purely to get on your nerves — and to his credit, it works.

so eventually, after yet another hour of trying to focus on doing some work on your computer but being unable to get anything done due to the noises coming from the other room of the apartment, you decide to do something about it.

without stopping to knock, you unceremoniously barge through his door, mouth already open in preparation of the spew of complaints you have ready to throw his way.

but, rather embarrassingly, once you lay eyes upon what he's currently doing, any and every word in the english language disappears from your mind without so much as a puff of smoke.

satoru, for his part, doesn't react at all save for looking mildly amused at your reaction. in fact... you think the pale hand he has wrapped around his cock even speeds up its languid strokes at the sight of you.

"girl, finally!" he sighs dramatically, lips spreading into a wide, impish smile as he beckons you with the curled finger of his other hand. "been waiting for you to get the hint for months now. i was starting to think you didn't want me too, honestly."

"you— what?" you push out awkwardly, wincing through your confusion as you fight the fruitless battle to tear your eyes from his unnecessarily big cock and meet his bright eyes.

"you heard me," satoru hums with an easy shrug, letting out one of those all-too-familiar, almost pornographic moans when he squeezes his own hand around the leaky tip of his shaft. "...or do you not want me too?"

sighing, you raise your thumb and forefinger to rub your stressed temple, shaking your head at the sheer audacity of this man. "you're ridiculous, gojo. i was hoping you were just pretending to jerk off in here— but no, of course you actually are."

"mhmm," he groans raspily between increasingly loud squelches of his cock. wait; is your scolding only helping him get off even faster? oh, you can't make this shit up. "keep talkin' to me just like that, baby."

"first of all, don't call me baby," you scoff, jabbing an accusing finger in his direction with a scowl etching its way onto your features. "and secondly, if you're gonna do this... stuff right next-door to me, can't you atleast try to keep it down? some of us have work to do."

satoru rolls his eyes at this, as if he's somehow the one being inconvenienced here; but any real irritation quickly evaporates into pleasure when he starts fondling his heavy balls, tongue lewdly lolling out of his mouth like a bitch in heat.

"i-i'll keep quiet. shit— i'll do whatever you fuckin' want if you just... just get me over the edge here, pretty girl. hah— help a guy out, would you, roomie?"

and damn if that isn't an enticing offer. finally getting rid of the noise around here so you can actually submit a work assignment on time for once?

yeah... you're definitely on board.

"fine," you mutter, attempting to sound as uninterested as possible as you shuffle closer to the bed. "what do you want me to do, gojo? and don't even bother asking me to suck your dick or anything, because who knows the last time you properly washed that—"

satoru snorts out a strangled laugh, shaking his head quickly and peering up at you with wide, darkened cerulean eyes. "n-no... not that. just— just talk to me, please? and call me satoru, not gojo, damn."

"okay..." you huff thoughtfully, brainstorming what you can say to get this over as quickly as possible. eventually, you purr: "are you gonna be a dirty boy and make a mess all over your hand for me, satoru? hmm?"

and, to your surprise and... arousal? that's all it takes to get him to explode, thick ropes of sticky white cum trickling from the reddened tip of his cock as he whines in ecstasy.

huh. maybe your work can wait a little longer.

SUGURU GETO — THE ONE WHO MAKES YOUR PANTIES GO POOF!

suguru geto is a man of many talents.

but in his humble opinion, the one he is most proficient at? oh, it has to be stealing various pairs of his cute little roommate's panties without her even taking notice.

yeah; that's right, his entire underwear drawer is not actually filled with articles of his own clothing, but rather with scraps of material he has swiped from your room over the past few months.

"ugh, i lost another pair of panties!" comes a frustrated groan from you room; you must be on the phone to one of your friends, suguru muses. "i swear, it's like there's a black hole at the bottom of that washer or something."

ah, if only you knew.

if only you knew that while you're busy stressing over the mystery of your missing underwear, suguru is slumped just against the other side of the thin wall that separates your rooms, one of the aforementioned pairs wrapped tightly around his throbbing cock.

he does this more often than he would like to admit — waits until he hears you get on the phone to jerk himself off. why? well, because then he can listen to your pretty voice while he bucks up into his fist. that's why.

"such a clueless girl..." suguru mutters under his breath as his eyes flutter closed, letting himself get lost in the combination of the soft fabric of your panties surrounding his shaft and the sound of you speaking ringing in his ears. "has no idea where her precious underwear keeps wandering off to."

meanwhile, on the other side of the wall, you have a mischievous smile pulling at your lips as you pretend to be utterly oblivious about your panty thief to your confused friend on the other end of the phone.

as if you wouldn't work out it was suguru snatching them — after all, who else could it possibly be? but you figured it was better this way, letting him think he's holding all the cards in this situation.

it only makes it all the more enjoyable for you.

leaning a little closer to the wall, you can faintly hear the familiar sounds of him getting himself off as you slowly dip a hand beneath your own skirt; and you're not wearing underwear, of course, because you don't have a single pair left thanks to your roommate.

you end up dropping the phone carelessly to the ground when suguru's deep, satisfied groan sounds out from his room, eyes rolling back in ecstasy as his orgasm swiftly brings you to your own.

so lost in your own pleasure are you that when the door softly clicks open, you don't have time to compose yourself before suguru strolls right on in, seeming much too casual for someone who just came in his hand.

"well well well," suguru hums smugly, tilting his head to the side and peering down at you with a condescending smile. "what do we have here, hmm? did you really think you could outsmart me, beautiful?"

oh.

maybe you really are clueless if you genuinely thought he didn't know you were pretending to be as such... but would it really be such a bad thing if he decides to punish you for your attempt at deception?

TOJI FUSHIGURO — THE ONE WHO NEVER PAYS RENT!

toji rarely (if ever) pays his part of the rent for your shared apartment.

he doesn't even bother trying to lie to you and tell you he'll scrounge up enough cash to cover it next time it's due, because he already knows you wouldn't buy that for a second.

so, instead, he offers you something else to keep you sated. something that he can say without a shadow of a doubt he can give to you better than anyone else could even hope to.

cock.

because if he keeps you in a perpetual state of bliss underneath the sheets of his bed, how can you possibly have any time remaining to think of such trivial things like paying the entire monthly rent on your own?

"mmm... what was i saying again, toji?" you slur, voice just delirious with pleasure as he pounds into you from behind, one strong hand effortlessly keeping your face pressed against the mattress.

"nothin', baby," toji lies easily, threading his thick fingers through the back of your hair in a distractingly tender gesture as his mean hips keep up their ruthless pace. "just relax and let y'erself feel me, yeah?"

"but—" you protest weakly, followed by an involuntary hiccup as his pudgy cockhead reaches that spongy spot inside of you once again. "i have a feeling it was important..."

"nah," he grunts dismissively, free hand snaking down to where your bodies are connected to rub messy, stimulating circles around the puffy bud that is your clit. "don't worry about it, pretty."

"...okay. if you say so." you mumble eventually, brain far too hazy from his skilful ministrations to bother putting up much of a fight against his convincing words.

toji's scarred lips spread into a victorious grin behind your back at how easily you give in. he just loves having you like this — so cockdrunk you can't even remember what you were talking about from one moment to the next.

and when the time inevitably comes for you to pay the rent on behalf of both of you yet again, he already knows you won't bat an eye; because, in the big scheme of things, what's a little cash matter if it means you get to have access to his sinful dick game whenever you so desire?

yeah... he'd say it's a pretty fair trade.

but the best part of all is that toji thinks he's the mastermind behind this little arrangement when in reality, if you were looking for a roommate who could pay their rent, you would never have picked someone who looks as jobless as he does in the first place.

but you'll continue to let him believe it was his idea; because, after all, he fucks you better when he's feeling proud of himself.

CHOSO KAMO — THE SECRETLY PERVERTED ONE!

choso doesn't mean to be perverted; not really.

but whether intentional or not, he finds himself desperate for anything that reminds him of you each time he gets himself off: a t-shirt, a pair of underwear, or even one of the cute little plushies you have lined up on your bed.

he wonders, fleetingly, what you'd think of him if you could see him humping one of your stuffed toys while you're out at work — would you be disgusted? would you kick him out and start the search for a new roommate?

or would you, just maybe... take pity on the poor boy and lend him a helping hand?

by the benevolence of some undefined higher power, choso doesn't have to mull over the answer to his question for much longer. because apparently, he was so desperate to release the desire coursing through his veins that he forgot to check the time before starting like he usually would.

so when he hears the tell-tale sign of the door opening and indicating that you've just come home from work, he has nowhere near enough time to cover up what he's been up to in your room while you were gone.

well, shit.

"hey cho, what are you doing in my— oh." comes your dumfounded voice as you peek your head around the slightly ajar doorway, eyes widening in a manner akin to a cartoon character at the sight of his sinful state.

choso blushes profusely, attempting to hide his face by ducking it into his shoulder with a muffled whimper of embarrassment. to his horror, his pathetically hard cock is fully exposed to your view, nestled between the soft limbs of one of your plushies where he had previously been thrusting.

you both stay completely silent for a few long moments, neither of you daring to move a single muscle... but it isn't long before your body is climbing onto the bed to join him before your mind can even begin to process your movements.

"w-what are you doing?... are you gonna hit me? because that would be okay, you can d-definitely hit me if you want!" choso squeaks hurriedly, peeking out from his shoulder and looking for all the word like a puppy who just got caught doing something naughty by its owner.

"i'm not gonna hit you, choso," you chuckle softly, carefully tugging your abused, slightly sticky plushie out from underneath him and tossing it away. "i wanna help you. don't you wanna try doing that to something other than a stuffed toy, hmm?"

"...oh, f-fuck!" he whines loudly, hips rutting just once against the mattress before his cock cruelly betrays him and spurts buckets of cum at the mere thought of being inside of you.

choso hides his face in shame again, figuring he must've absolutely ruined his chances with you now. because there's no way you would still want to help him after witnessing that little display, right?

wrong.

when you tug his head away from his shoulder by one of his scraggly pigtails and pull him into a searing kiss, he realizes maybe his pretty little roommate was just as perverted as him all along.

KENTO NANAMI — THE RESPECTFUL ONE!

kento is very fond of you; his sweet roommate who always wakes him up for work in the morning if he happens to accidentally oversleep and leaves him homemade dinner in the fridge to cheer him up after a late shift.

he figures these things making him feel attraction towards you is fairly normal — but it's the other, not-so-intentional things that make him go crazy for you the most.

when he spots you walking around the apartment in nothing but one of his oversized shirts and a pair of socks because your clothes are in the communal washer... or when he silently observes you bend over to grab something from the bottom cupboard in the kitchen?

yeah, those are the things that really make it hard for him not to pounce on you like some kind of feral animal.

it all comes to a crux when you come home in tears one night, babbling about your fool of a boyfriend having the audacity to cheat on you. hmph, nanami never liked him anyway.

but there's no time for petty jealousies now — no, now is the time for him to make you realize that what you've been craving has been here all along, living in the room right next-door to yours.

so he pulls you into a gentle kiss, pouring all of his pent-up affection into the gesture as he effortlessly lifts you up onto the kitchen counter, positioning himself between your spread legs.

"i want to make you forget about him, beautiful," nanami whispers, voice rough with sincereness as he places a soft peck on the corner of your lips. "may i?"

and you're nodding shakily, but it isn't enough. he reaches up with a large hand to grasp your chin in a firm yet tender grip, thumb stroking over your skin. "use your words for me, dear. come on, i know you can do it."

"y-yes. please, kento."

and that's all it takes for nanami to fall to his knees, brushing his lips over the insides of your thighs as he slowly works his way upwards. god, he's wanted to do this for so long — if for nothing else then to thank you for taking such good care of him and never asking for anything in return.

but oh, is he going to give you something in return now; specifically, in the form of his hot mouth attached to your cunt, tongue lapping up every drop of your translucent juices as if it were the finest wine on the menu of a high class restaurant.

he can't help but wonder, while he's buried nose-deep in your sweet pussy, why on earth a man would choose to cheat on a goddess such as yourself.

but he supposes it doesn't matter, if it means that he's the one who finally gets to worship at your altar from now and for as long as you'll allow him the honour of doing so.

LIKES AND REBLOGS APPRECIATED!

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lovelivision · 2 months ago

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Satoru finding out reader has a praise kink🙏🙏🙏

₊⁺ જ⁀➴💌 and so it was done !! gojo and praise kink might kill me 🙂‍↕️ hope you like it lovely !! 💗💗

꒰꒰mdni // masterlist꒱꒱

Gojo is completely unfair when he discovers your praise kink in bed, his head tucked into your neck as he hammers into you, his moans and whimpers making your spine tingle. His hands everywhere on your body, pulling your face to his, lips interlocking hotly as he shoves his tongue in your mouth.

When he pulls back your lips are connected by a string of saliva, snapping as he licks at his lower lip, “You feel so good, sweetie,” he groans.

His hips stutter at how your pussy flutters around him, the small praise getting to you more than you think it should. Something he catches onto quickly, a breathless kind of chuckle leaving him at his realisation.

“You like being told how good you feel?” His voice is low, words tickling against your ear.

Turning your head away, you try asking for mercy, “Satoru–”

“–Don’t be so shy,” he almost singsongs at you, “You’re doing so good for me, taking it so well.”

You gasp at his words, hands pushing at his chest. It’s embarrassing how quickly he picked up on how he’s making you feel.

“So– fuck–so tight, gripping me like crazy,” he chokes on his moans, trying to talk to you at the same time.

He’s going crazy, your snug cunt sucking him back in every time he pulls back, pussy wet and drooling obscenely around him, slick coating his length so much that there’s a creamy, white ring at the base of his cock.

Your skin grows warmer at his earnest words, at how he moans for you, bottom lip tucked between his teeth as he looks down between the two of you, to where he’s stuffing you full of his dick.

His eyes flick back to your face and it’s almost like he melts into a puddle for you all at once, a small whine leaving his lips before he has a chance to even think about stopping it. “You look really pretty,” he coos at you, large hand cradling your face.

The unexpected compliment has your pussy fluttering again, along with your heart, “I don’t think–”

“–I don’t think, I know,” his thumb pulls at your bottom lip before letting it go, “So beautiful while you let me fuck you full.”

His eyes are completely lost as he feeds you compliment after compliment, completely pussy drunk but still aware enough of what his praise does to keep spitting out nonsensical flattery. Words tripping over each other as his voice cracks with his moans and whimpers, the hand holding himself up gripping into the pillows behind you as he struggles to keep it together.

“Making the cutest faces– hnn– the cutest moans–” he intakes a sharp breath as you twitch around him, trailing off into a groan, “Don’t know how you feel so good, pussy divine– hah– fuck–”

The sounds of his pathetic moans and broken words have you dizzy, eyes hazy and wet as you struggle to focus in on his face. His own features wrecked, a lazy, blissed out smile on his face at how ruined and turned on he’s making you.

“Pretty little thing, look so hot when you’re close, sweetie.”

It’s entirely too much, his words pushing you over the edge, cumming all over his cock, coating him in your slick. Gojo doesn’t hold out much longer after, only really capable of a few more thrusts before he’s dumping his cum deep inside you, painting your walls white.

When he pulls out, he watches the way his cum dribbles from your cunt, his smile bright when he says, “You look pretty full of my cum.”

Proud of himself, even when you throw a pillow in his direction, because he now knows just how much you like when he compliments you and he’s never going to let you forget that.

#₊⁺ જ⁀➴💌 vinbox #visdrabbles #jjk smut #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x reader smut #gojo x reader smut #gojo smut #satoru gojo x reader smut #satoru gojo smut #jjk x reader smut

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screampied · 8 months ago

Text

‘ THINK I NEED SOMEONE OLDER ! ’

ᡴꪫ‎ synopsis. university sucks major ass. on the bright side, you’re on break—you decide to go pay your father a visit. this 'visit' ends up to you being introduced to his best friend, toji. who’s he? maybe your panties know the answer.

wc. 7.4k

warnings. fem! reader, dad's best friend! toji, age gap (reader is over twenty), praise, cunnilingús, squìrting, implied multiple órgasms, unprotected, degradation, size difference, impact play, poor dad is kinda clueless, almost caught, overstimulation.

dbf! masterlist

“who’s he?”

a simple question — yet the moment the words ran out your mouth, it felt as if all eyes were on you. in reality, it was though. the tall man who was quite a few staggering inches taller than your own father had such a gaze. he had hands buried into the depths of his pockets, shifting his weight as he stood still before burning a stare right into you. an intense stare, you could almost make out somewhat of an intriguing smirk. that sly smile with an everlasting scar running down the right side of his mouth.

“hey honey,” your father waves out with a brief gesture. he throws an arm around the buff man before giving him a rough pat on the back. “this is toji. met him ‘bout a year ago at one of those boat races. heh, news flash—he lost.”

“woah. no need to embarrass me, man,” toji murmurs in a raspy tone and by all means was his voice deep. laced in pure baritone, far deeper than your fathers. by a mile, to be specific. his voice has a jagged huskiness to it, insanely attractive. as he spoke, his eyes flickered towards you and he’d occasionally look away with that same chaffing sneer. “but anyway,” toji averts his eyes back towards you. his cologne was loud, you could smell it from miles away from you. he pauses for a few good seconds before uttering. “it’s nice to meet ya, sweetheart.”

you gulped, suddenly feeling small. you couldn’t pinpoint what it was about him — his demeanor, the way he carried himself, anything was. but it was something that had you a bit drawn in so to speak. “i um..”

“she’s not that much of a speaker,” your father chuckles, giving you a soft rub near your back. “poor brain’s probably all fried from those midterms. right honey?”

“you don’t say.” toji raises a brow, glancing away for a moment and a smile tugged right against his his dimples—and for a moment, he was suddenly intrigued by his best friend’s daughter.

that was the initial first reaction between the two of you. you ended up staying at your father’s house for the remaining duration of your visit.

nothing too much sparked between the two of you, of course there’d be subtle moments. real subtle moments—stupid things, like having him help you grab something from one of the top shelves.

of course he’d help, he was taller than you by many many inches. effortlessly towering over you. it’s the way he’d press up against you. it was quite hard to shut those thoughts of yours up. those lewd salacious thoughts that were forever kept into the very back of your brain, silently fantasizing about your father’s best friend.

apparently, he stayed for quite around the same time you did since he and your father would typically hang, do all sorts of men activities you never really cared about—golfing, shooting ranges, watching the most recent football games. that was the most annoying part, how they’d both obnoxiously yell at the screen whenever their favorite team was pathetically losing.

your room was directly upstairs, you heard everything. it was as if the walls were merely thin. in a way, they were. the constant repetitious hollering from the two men were so irksome. eyes merely rolled to the back of your head whilst you were trying to scroll on your phone in peace.

you never did understand why a dumb game of balls would drive men so crazy. nevertheless, you let off a tiny sigh before plopping right down in your bed. immensely, you stared off into space.

you had no idea why, but the minute your eyes linger into the white nearly peeled off drywall near the ceiling, you thought about him. toji.

stupid, maybe…

it’s been a few days and you hardly knew the guy. encounters between him were subtle and brief. he’d nod his head at you, barely acknowledging your existence and going straight back to some meaningless conversation with your father.

there was one day however, one day that had you hot all over. it was when you walked in on toji, he was using the spare shower that no one really uses, it’s reserved mostly for guests—perfect for him in this case.

you remember it like it was yesterday. since you were wide awake during this time for whatever reason, your dad sent you to go replace some towels from downstairs since he was doing laundry so you mindlessly make your way downstairs. the door was visibly cracked. sure, you probably should have knocked but who takes showers around three am?

apparently, this guy.

toji was literally just getting out the shower when you walked in. steam fogged throughout the entire space.

it was hot, stuffy and dampened with mist clinging against the rectangular mirrors. smothered with fog, you practically end up bumping right into something hard.

to be specific, that something was toji’s broad chest. maybe you were a bit delusional but you could have sworn, the moment you made contact with his bulky pecs, it moved upon impact.

“excuse you, sweetheart,” toji would scoff teasingly, his low voice was a bit more rougher since it was late at night. you were definitely speechless, barely able to process a single word from your mouth. thankfully a towel was wrapped around his slim torso—yet you started to wish maybe he didn’t have it protecting his lower half.

your eyes stuck to his chest the entire time, talk about embarrassing. immediately, your pretty dilated pupils ran down his chest, down his v-line, his perfectly structured build . . and then, his happy trail. he was well trimmed of the sort, practically. toji’s version of well trimmed was a bit hairy. regardless, it was still an attractive feature.

the more your eyes rove, the more you glance at his nearly perfectly sculptured structure. his chest was painted with a plethora of battle scars, now you were the one intrigued. you wanted to know more.

“you’re a little rude, huh,” and you abruptly snap from your thoughts. it was so brusque…

returning back to reality, out of that lewd trance you were so desperately trapped in—you blink twice, not even realizing how he was right up close to you. toji stares down at you before sneering. “it’s like three am. shouldn’t you be in bed?”

you shift your feet a bit, maintaining a little distance before trying to reply in the best nonchalant way possible. “uh no,” and then you utter awkwardly. “shouldn’t you be in bed? who randomly wakes up to take showers this late?”

“guys my age,” he jibes. “ya wouldn’t get it.”

you deadpan, fully aware it was a joke but you held everything in you to not have your eyes roll all the way back. “whatever,” and then you nearly forget what you were about to do. he watches you, you open near the lower cabinet and replace the clean towels. it grew profoundly quiet, a pin could drop. the moment you turned around, toji scoffs to himself. “did you need anything? something else?”

“ah. thank you, i’m fine, princess,” toji huffs with a sly grin. he reaches near the small wooden table to grab what seemed to be a half-used lotion bottle. however, you didn’t expect for him to completely change the topic, flipping your own words around with a blunt, “do you need something?”

“huh?”

“you heard me, girl.”

the banter…

he was definitely cocky, playful, literally any other synonym would fit.

you hated how he’d get you speechless everytime. you loathed how he was such an effect on you. with a brief gnaw on your bottom lip you narrow your eyes, mumbling out a, “stupid question.”

“i agree,” toji smirks. “but eh. y’er a smart girl. ‘m sure you can come up with a good comeback soon.”

he was so annoying, entirely so.

it’d be simple interactions like that between the two of you. much to your surprise though, nothing really else happened. toji would tease you a bit then pretend nothing happened, throw you a compliment or two and call it a day.

toji would often visit daily or twice a day, mainly to hang with your father. you could care less about what they did, but you were bored out of your mind from being in the house all day. you could go out, but it’s not like you had anyone to go with. everyone was either busy or … busy. besides, most of your friends were on exotic vacations or out of the country—you sighed, rubbing a hand against your stomach as you stared in the ceiling wall.

but then, the most lasciviously filthy thought made its way into your thoughts. you thickly swallowed before reaching a hand down between your legs. the air grew abnormally dry, shame…

to be completely honest, you couldn’t even remember the last time you touched yourself. this couldn’t have ever been a more perfect time. you were sure your father and his cocky best friend was out at top golf, probably.

intaking a single breath, you lean back against your pillow—slowly, you started to focus on your breathing.

parting your legs, you lightly pull down your shorts before tugging your panties to the side. you wince for a little, realizing how you were already a bit soaked. a little dampened spot right towards the front part of your underwear. you knew it had to be from pondering about toji.

speaking of, you remember that time where he helped—well, ‘attempted’ to cook dinner that one time. all you could focus on was his hands. such rough thick hands, you wondered what’d it feel like to have those same hands gingerly wrap around your throat. such thick fingers shove down your throat while he calls you such degrading names—just anything.

the more you were deep in thought, the more drenched you started to become. you went slow, being patient with yourself. you imagined it was toji’s fingers instead of yours. such big fingers thrusting in and out of you.

steadily, you start to insert a single finger in. a middle finger, it felt good, you suppressed a single moan and by this point, your imagination was running wild. you allowed your body to relax for a few moments before you slipped another finger inside. seconds later, you started to gentle move around inside your clit. your pace was sweet and precise—you let out a soft moan that rang throughout your thin walls. “toji—f-fuckkk.”

your voice was shaky, imagining toji being here right now made you throb ten times more. just propped all up behind you, thrashing his fingers against your swollen folds made you more aroused than you ever thought. your thrusts against your own entrance was small, a steady pace but irregular enough to make your knees start to buckle.

throwing your head back a little, you started to whine as each second dragged. your breath became insignificantly heavy, hitched and all. you made sure to stimulate in all the right areas, adapting to a perfect rhythm, then that’s when you’re rudely interrupted. talk about a cliche.

“hey. is it anymore detergen—”

toji pauses mid sentence, literally trying to process the scenery in front of him. he stands still and his initial reaction was slow. the first thing he does is chortle lowly. “well, shit. is this a bad time?”

you’ve never felt anymore embarrassed in your life, a sudden wave of heat rushed over your body before you quickly shielded yourself with your blanket. “oh my god,” you’d squeak out, and toji averts his eyes elsewhere for a few seconds. “i thought you all left already.”

toji hums. he takes a moment, and it’s as if he’s thinking of what to say. he was amused, seeing your flustered state and he looks back at you. “we were but it got canceled last minute since a storm’s approaching,” and you let off a soft gulp, hearing his footsteps creak against your wooden floor as he got closer. “thank god it was me who came in here ‘n not your father, right princess? now that’d be embarrassing.”

“stop calling me that,” you grumble, and you don’t even realize how soft and weak your voice was. you slowly pull your fingers out before intaking another sharp breath. he glanced at you before simpering. “haven’t you heard of knocking?”

“girl,” toji utters in a low rasp. “the door was wide open. i can’t knock on air,” and you mentally eye rolled — he was so insufferable. incredibly so, toji’s eyes roam across your old room that was a bit scattered with some boxes from when you moved out four years ago. it was a bit unkempt, your father usually used your room sometimes just to store things from the attic. toji buried his hands into his pockets before chuckling. “i heard you, ya know. moaning my name all loud like that.”

you blinked thrice, sitting up before compressing your eyebrows together. “what?”

“whaaat?” he jeers, mocking you. toji inches closer towards you until he was right beside your bedside. you gaze up at him and he had a blunt sticking out from the corner of his lips. he looked so appetizing, even while dressed down. ripped jeans and a sweatshirt. you could tell he was fit, of course he was—you saw him shirtless. he was well likely in his early thirties, dressing so laid back and casual. “between you and me, sweetheart, you can do better. ‘s cute ‘n all but that’s not how ya finger yourself. been a while, yeah?”

this guy, he was so bold. casually speaking his dirty mind, not afraid to say anything.

you don’t know why, but those last few words made you throb. you loathed how right he was, it was as if he could read you like a book. between studies and actually living a university student’s life, you barely ever get time to yourself. time to please yourself.

“whatever,” you utter. “yeah... it’s been a while.”

“poor thing,” he clicks his tongue before taking a seat on your bed. it jitters from his weight for a bit before he peers a gaze at you. “hm,” he puffs out, dragging a hand against his jeans. “i’d be happy to help though. those useless fingers of yours can only please you so much, right? heh.”

this indescribable effect he had on you, it heavily irked your nerves. “…please,” and you don’t even register what quickly came out of your mouth.

you were so pent up by this point, being interrupted. you wanted to finish, you desperately wanted to finish. your soft breaths hitched, and toji’s intimate stare lingered on you for a bit. his loud cologne started to waft across the entire room, so intoxicating. “just make me finish, please.”

“there’s those manners,” he coos in a husky tone, and he gets up closer. he was purely teasing you, you just wanted to feel his touch . . . feel something at least. he pulls the fat cover that went over you, yet at a more tantalizingly slow pace. he was a mere tease, you nearly let off a whine once you felt the tips of his warm fingers skim past your thighs. “messy girl,” he mumbles, and then he pauses to glance at you. “are you sure? jus’ wanna-”

“toji,” you mutter, and you liked hearing you roll his name so sweetly off your tongue. seeing you grow purely frustrated was utter amusement to him. the way your eyebrows would curl and furrow, irises flaring and your jaw slightly tensing. you had such readable body language by default too. “please. i want you. just touch me.”

he simpers. “pretty please.”

“……”

again, he was so infuriating. you felt yourself starting to pant, not knowing how much longer you could take as he started to softly trail a thumb against your skin. his touch was so warm, it was intense and ignited something within you.

“touch me—pretty please, toji.” you mutter out, sprawling your legs out just a bit. it was so hot, the temperature surrounding the atmosphere of the room was so humid. he glances at you before smiling.

“that’s a good girl.”

his words warmed your heart in such a lewd provocative way, you just wanted his touch.

desperately yearning for it, toji leans up close, bringing a big hand to part your legs apart and he was so slow. he takes the blunt that was propped up between his teeth, setting it aside near your nightstand. you prepare to inhale deeply, not expecting him to then bring a tender kiss towards your inner thighs. he started to create a trail—a trail that gingerly went up and up and up.

“so sensitive,” he’d purr, watching your own body melt from just the softness of his lips against your skin. you wanted him to hurry, you replayed this exact scenario over and over at least a dozen times. now that it was reality, you just knew that your body wanted him. “oh. don’t give me that look,” and he smirks, watching the pout grow against your lips. “gonna stare at me all day or are ya gonna tell me how you’d like for me to start?”

“i need you to—eat me out,” you huff out in short singular breaths. you were throbbing rapidly, each moment he stalled to speak, the more aroused you grew. his warm breath just fanning against your folds had you nearly going weak.

he snickers. “need?” he repeats, and you moan once he swiftly drags a finger down your soaked cunt. it was drenched, but it could be a bit more. toji hums to himself cockily. “you don’t need shit, girl. fix your sentence ‘n talk proper..”

“i—” you gripe, starting to grow more and more frustrated. your vexed facial expression amused him. he raises his darkened brows, awaiting for your answer and the cute pout that continued to stretch across your lips was so cute. “i— i want you to eat me out, pretty please.”

“much better,” he says in a low gruff. the moment he finally hovers his mouth over your sopping clit, toji gently strokes a thumb up and down. opening you up slowly, he creates a single slow lick to make you whimper. “i’ll make ya cum quicker than you ever could, princess.”

and you knew he probably wouldn’t lie about a simple fact like that. toji’s touch, it was sloppy.

without a doubt, he was a messy eater.

just one taste of you and he was hooked—a new addiction for him and it wasn’t gambling.

you tasted sweet, candied even. he was in so deep, occasionally the tip of his nose would prod against your entrance. you slumped back against the bed, your legs twitching in pleasure. not before long, your lips started to part and you started to gnaw on your hardened knuckles. you didn’t wanna be too loud—you just remembered your father was right downstairs.

he didn’t have the best hearing in the world, but knowing you, you could be a bit overzealous with your moans.

the noises his tongue made, sliding his tongue between your folds, sucking and nibbling. he even broke away his lips just to spit a nice wad onto your pussy. you watched the entire time, mesmerized. he was so nasty—nasty and you only wanted more. toji continued to drag a thumb against your slit, lapping up your slick arousal that was already starting to drip down his chin. it ran further down, a bit of his trimmed facial hair now soaked with your sweetness.

“how’s it feel, princess,” he’d mutter out, briefly departing his lips away. as he does—you stare as a pretty cobweb of his own spit tugs against your own entrance. glistening and all, it was so sheeny. he was right between your precious thighs, and you couldn’t help but give his ruffled dark hair a light pull. “tell me how i make you feel. talk to me nice, girl.”

“good,” you whimper, nearly choking on your own saliva. your words were so trembly, you could hardly recognize yourself. it’s been a while since you’ve been eaten out, let alone being intimate. as you continued to let off irregular breathing patterns, you swallow. “f-feels good.”

“just good?” he’d tease, bringing a long suck towards your clit. you let off a whine once he playfully nibbles near that particular spot with his teeth. his tongue scrapes against your folds time and time again. it’s indescribable—toji’s head shook back and forth as he was nose deep into your pussy. for a moment, he sounds offended.

toji gives your cunt a sweet little kiss, and he feels it start to hastily pulse from doing so.

he knew you were getting close, all from a simple cue from his tongue. speaking of toji’s tongue . . it was lengthy.

so long, it reached areas that had your eyes mindlessly rolling back.

cute little cacophonies of, “oh my g-godddd,” repeated ghosts past your lips as you started to practically drag his face against you. the texture of his tongue—so moist and slick, already wet from obvious reasons, but grew even more dampened from your sheer arousal. it was a taste his tastebuds grew to crave more of. “gonna c-cum toji. f-fuckkk.”

“you’re gonna wait for me, little girl,” he grouses, and your irises fleetingly dilate. he gifts the entrance of your cunt with another string of spit, then he rubs a few circles against it. mean vigorous circles that made your legs pathetically twitch. “you make a mess when i tell you too.”

he was so mean.

such sternness in his tone, yet it turned you on. that slight secretive rasp that hid underneath his voice. toji breaks his lips away for a moment, glaring at you before focusing near the crevices of your thighs. he teasingly slides his tongue upward, away from your most sensitive area just to watch you squirm.

“toji,” you’d whimper, feeling his tongue just roam everywhere from below. he was so skilled, you’ve never had a man be so sloppy. at least in a way that toji was. he greedily sucks near your thighs, gently sinking his canines into the plush of your thighs before going back towards your pussy. “i can’t—can’t hold..”

you were barely able to finish your sentence, and that’s when you came — it was so sudden and abrupt. gushing all out of you and your nerves had your mind spiraling. a constant crazed loop.

it felt like a wave, a tsunami crashing down and it felt so good.

your orgasm that shortly followed was so loud, you didn’t even bother trying to cover your mouth. toji chuckles, cupping his mouth around the very top part of your achey slit before lapping his tongue against your hood. your hips temporarily quavered due to his tongue, and you still maintained a rough grip on his head.

“easy on the fuckin’ hair,” he’d grunt after feeling you roughly yank on his strands bringing a kiss towards your slick entrance. you swallowed, your legs feeling practically mush before he brings a terse spank towards your clit. “cute ‘n all, but i didn’t say you could finish yet.”

“s-sorry,” you’d breathe out, still feeling the after effects of your intense high. it was so good, your eyes were all hooded and droopy. toji saw a bit of drool seeping from the corners of your mouth and hums silently.

he sighs, leaning up before getting on top of you. he hovers himself and you stare up at him. he rests both arms over you, groping near the rickety headrest before leaning up close to your face.

“are you sorry, sweetheart?” and he gets up a bit closer, green viridescent eyes glance right into you—you smelled the mint and brief tang of alcohol residing on his tongue. using another hand to grab your chin, he softly pulls your bottom lip down before derisively grinning. “aw. nothing to say? no back talk this time?”

“i… want a kiss,” you pant, feeling his warm body just inches away from colliding against yours. just a single inch and he’d be grinding on you. “kiss me.”

“oh i dunno. sounds like a demand, babygirl,” he’d sneer, and your eyes leer near his scar. it was damp a little from him just being between your thighs a moment ago. perhaps it was a bit filthy, but you wanted to taste it. taste him. “ask me the right way.”

you pout, staring right into his eyes. “i wan— can i get a kiss, pretty please. i just want a kiss.”

“course ya can,” he utters, and that’s right when he squeezes your chin. your lips were plump and glossy. toji stares at you back for a long while, studying your cute expressions before he leans right in. the kiss was passionate, it felt so wrong but felt so right. you moaned the second his lips crashed onto yours. he finds it cute, feeling your arms rub and feel around his slim waist. you were pulling him closer — a sign that you wanted more of him. toji teasingly grinds his hefty body against you, and you whimper in his mouth once you feel his thick bulge prod against your panties that were halfway on you. “mhm.” he’d groan.

while his tongue skims against yours, you part your lips a bit for him and the incoming savory taste you’d get a treat out of.

you made sure to savor it, so sweet with a bit of spice.

running your tongue against his, breaking away to lick near his chin, softly making sure to lick near his stubble—you cleaned your own mess off of him. without him asking you either, toji grunts as he watched you through his peripherals. he’d never expect his best friend to have such a nasty girl for a daughter.

“y’er fuckin’ filthy,” he mumbles, breaking away and watching both strands of spit leave and depart. your lips curv into a cute needy scowl before he heard your father suddenly call out from downstairs.

“honey? i said, was that a scream…? is everything okay?”

your eyes widen, not even knowing your father was speaking—yelling actually. toji snickers, and now he’s the one suddenly quiet. prick.

“o-oh um,” you clear your throat, sitting up and that’s when toji starts to create soft chaste kisses near the inside of your neck. you nearly moaned before turning your head to speak. “i’m—i’m fine. i thought i saw a cockroach.”

“cockroach? do you need me to come up and—”

“no!” you’d quickly reply before clearing your throat once more. you let off a sigh, feeling toji start to suck near your collarbone. “i mean, no dad. i’m okay. thanks anyways.”

“okay honey, if you say so.”

toji chortles. “fuck. you’re bad at lying. just tell y’er old man you were getting eaten out by me.”

you glare at him, immensely bringing your brows into a furrow. “no, i’m not gonna say that. are you crazy?”

“maybe.”

you eye rolled, yet part of you felt like he wasn’t exactly lying. after all, he could probably be insane—perhaps he was.

you didn’t know, and to be frank, you didn’t really care. all you really cared about was getting pleasured—riding out orgasm after orgasm with him, and that’s exactly what you ended up doing for hours on end.

toji would find himself leaned back against your pillow, studying your hips carefully before grinning.

the moment you lightly shove him back, he clicks his tongue. “oh?” he says, and you already sprung his dick out. he was very much hard, presenting you with an upward slight curve. you licked your lips, hovering over him before giving him a few strokes. a groan slips past his lips and your thumb brushes against the various veins that ran just below his foreskin. “y’er gonna ride me? can a sweet girl like you even handle it?”

“shut up,” you’d fuss, and he just smirks at you. you wanted to wipe that smug expression from his face. he knew just how to irritate your nerves. toji watches you throw your leg over him, a simple hook around. you’re straddling him now and he brings two rough hands to attach near your hips. you lean in to kiss him again and he returns it, slowly tilting his head back and your arms wrap around him. he feels you reach down, grabbing ahold of his shaft before softly sliding the head of his dick near your slick entrance. “s-shit. you’re big.”

“i try not to disappoint,” he slyly says, sliding a thumb near your hips. his voice was so low, so pompous and arrogant. you give him a glare but he only hums out of pure amusement. “barely the tip in ‘n y’er struggling. need my help, sweetheart?”

you ignored him and he smirks, allowing you to do your thing—you bring one hand towards his chest, gently feeling near his perfectly chiseled abs. he was so toned, tracing against his tense muscles and he watches your every move. it was as if time was stood still, he chuckles at how eager you were. you weren’t like him, you weren’t patient and thorough. you were a bit more rushed and sloppy—cute, it was very much cute to him though.

a moan goes past your lips once the wet tip of his slowly starts to sink inside. it had a few droplets of pre-cum leaking down, and you slowly rocked your hips in place to get comfortable. his eyes go lower to focus more on your body, the grip he had on your waist was so rough and sensual. because toji was so thick — it took you a good six minutes, six precise minutes to reach all the way down to the base. your lips opened a bit, and you let off a soft shrilling whimper once you did a cute attempt at jerking forward.

“take it slow,” he purrs in such a rasp, you leisurely started to lurch back and forth once he was buried all the way down to the hilt. you inhale deeply and he was so hefty. balls deep, swollen balls that was hidden and engulfed beneath your inner walls. “atta girl.” he praises, watching you try to maintain a decent rhythm.

ringing went throughout your ears, you felt all hot.

toji playfully brings a hand to feel near your tummy. you were wearing some old university hoodie. it was comfortable, but much to his surprise, you didn’t have a bra underneath. he hums to himself, and you let off a moan once his hand trails ever further. further and further until his thumb brushes against your perky nipples.

“t— toji,” you’d moan, and another hand of his was tightly clinging onto the left part of your waist. you were riding him smoothly. yet since he was so big, you started to feel your thighs building up with drowsiness. your efforts were cute to him, so desperately eager to get off.

his black lashes flicker, and the way he’s all leaned back and manspread was so attractive—you felt your back start to naturally arch and it didn’t take long for toji to reach that particular spot. once you felt his tip prod against there—way past inside the orifices of your cunt, you let off a sweetened whimper. “found it,” he whispers, bringing you close towards his chest. you lean into his touch, intaking his cologne into your nose before your hand starts to wander all over his body. he liked how handsy you were, slipping a hand right underneath his shirt to feel a part of his abs. you made sure to trace directly on each line, each tender flexing muscle. all the way down onto his sharp v-line. further down, you started to feel his happy trail. your favorite.

he grunts, feeling the softness of your hands meander freely. “that’s it, sweetheart,” he gruffs in a sharp breath. an imaginary lump getting caught in his throat — he was holding both of your hips upright and by this point you were slamming right onto his thick cock. “touch me more. feel all over me baby.”

“can i—” you started, leaning in to kiss near the crook of his neck. your voice was soft, a bit trembly before your hands went up this time. feeling near his pecs before a breath gets caught in his throat. “can i feel here, toji?”

“f-fuckin’ girl,” he groans, a chill running down his spine the second he feels you gently rubbing a thumb against his nipples this time. toji was surprisingly far more sensitive despite his rough front he was putting up, it was a bit cute. after all, he did say feel all over you. toji was panting now, while you rode him continuously, he swiped a few beads of sweat from his forehead. “whatever.”

you giggle, watching him now be the one with a pouty expression this time. you plant a kiss near where his slanted scar went down his lip before he spanks your ass. “just ‘cause ‘m sensitive there doesn’t mean ‘m gonna get all whiney for you, girl,” he utters in a raspy tone. the sharp sting from the spank felt good.

you felt yourself twitch between your thighs whilst your hips moved in harmony. you do a little back bend with your hips, constantly jerking against him and he grunts with how slow yet sloppy your movements were. “keep goin’ slow like that. ‘m gonna—cum.”

his voice consistently got deeper, and the tips of his fingers gently pierced into your skin—you were vocal yourself though. moan after moan, a constant repeat. you found yourself whining out his name as if it was a lewd mantra. over and over again, to toji though, it was purely music to his ears.

he feels you start to slow down a bit though, exactly at the minute he tells you he was approaching his incoming release. toji clenched his jaw, gifting the fat of your ass with another mean spank. “f-fuck. keep fuckin’ me. make me fuckin’ cum.”

you plant kisses near his neck this time, near the very inside and you swiftly quicken your pace a little. he was stuffing you full of thick inches, full of such girth that had your tongue salivating right in your mouth. you could only imagine what it’d feel like to have his seed pouring into you. you couldn’t lie to yourself, ever since you saw toji shirtless. his bulge sticking out through his towel, you only imagined he’d be so full of cum to give. you tilt your hips backwards, and he lets off a husky groan.

that particular spot reached so deep, you felt it too. his cockhead pokes and taps repeatedly against your sweet spot and you sob out a needy, “f-fuck, ‘s right there,” you tilt forward and he’s just about reaching his peak. the longer you took, the more spanks you received.

toji was a patient man, but only for so long.

the bed frame creaked constantly, it was the only tune that played in the background. he slithers a hand down between your thighs and spanks your cunt a few times. you whimpered, already a bit sensitive but felt something else approaching. “toji— toji.”

toji groans, the build up nearly taking his breath away. with your rhythmic thrusts against him, his eyes merely roll and he has to take a minute to catch his breath. you wrap a hand around his throat—tenderly of course—then place your lips onto his once he finally finishes inside of you.

he didn’t expect for you to choke him, but he liked it.

he liked how forward you were, your thumb lightly grazed against his adam’s apple, and a deep grunt gets trapped in his throat. your cunt was practically overflowed with such dumps of his cum—you’ve never felt more filled. toji shook a little, a hand gripping your ass as you kissed him.

slowly, he started to feel himself get addicted.

he already was addicted from having a simple taste of you earlier, but he was getting infatuated. you had him whipped, and he knew this probably wouldn’t be a one time thing.

albeit, the last thing you expect is to pull away from the kiss once you feel a sudden pressure brewing up within you.

momentarily, you whine—feeling a sudden familiar wetness coat his base. nerves all throughout your body had you locked in a trance, and you pause your hips before toji tsks.

“little girl,” he mumbles with a sly smile. “did you just squirt on me?”

it was so unexpected, you pant heavily—heave after heave leaving your lips before you moan out a sweet, “y-yes.”

“don’t be shy about it. i like when it’s messy,” he sneers, his eyes tantalizingly trailing down your body once more before he lifts you up just a bit from his shaft. he observes the lewd mess, how much cum trickled past your thighs and he hums. “wanna do that again? i bet i can do it in five minutes, baby.”

to say you were being treated like a rag doll was an understatement.

toji was ruthless with you, ruthless with you in your own house. well, ex-house. you didn’t live here anymore but you used to.

he coaxed orgasm after orgasm out of you like it was nothing. making you imitate and try positions you’ve never even heard of—you were getting stretched, easily said. it’s been hours by this point, you weren’t even in your room anymore. you were in the bathroom with him.

toji had you propped up against the door, you’re taking him from behind and you’re roughly biting down on your lip.

entirely so, it was still risky.

your father was right outside near the living room doing who knows what. probably watching some sports program—yet of course, he started to grow curious of where his best pal went. initially, toji said he had to use the restroom.

like four hours ago . .

he was so mean too, spanking your ass numerous times. your ass was perked upright for him, and you’re leaning against the door. you whimpered, feeling him grip on your panties that he refused to pull off of you.

oh, he likes seeing it dangle and thwack against your skin. the pretty fabric just cutely rubbing against your thighs. his weight just barely hovers against you and he’s smacking right into you.

your cunt swallowed his hefty inches each and every time—by this point, you weren’t sure if you could even give him one more.

you lost count of how many mind blowing orgasms that you were just completely intoxicated from his dick and his dick alone.

toji’s rough bare hands grab onto both parts of your ass, spreading it before deepening his strokes just a bit. you moaned, feeling every inch store inside of your sweet cunt. he knew just where to hit you. you breathe through your mouth and your nose at the same time, heavy cute pants that started to fog up the door’s material.

“fuck, fuck me f-fuckkk,” you’d drag out, and your back naturally arches just from a teasing touch of his finger racing down your back.

your ass was held up high and your cheek was softly nudging against the cold door. another build up was approaching and you were just so in awe—you were literally thinking, where has he been all your life? “close, ‘m getting closer.”

“bet you are. drippin’ all on me ‘n it’s fuckin’ nasty,” he replies—yet you freeze once you hear footsteps approach the door. it was your father, right when you were about to cum—you feel toji’s hand wrap around your mouth. your eyes roll backwards, and then he speaks through the other end of the door.

“toji? hehe, did ya fall in there man? you’re missing the game. we’re down by four points.”

toji chuckles, hearing a tiny muffled squeak go past your lips. he was balls deep, giving you such thick vigorous inches. that’s when he leans right up close to you—a hand still propped to have your mouth shut before whispering in a raspy tone. “you gotta be quiet, sweetheart. you want y’er old man to hear you make a sloppy mess on me?”

you shake your head, making an attempt to try and suck on his fingers and be smiles. “messy baby.”

your mouth was now stuffed with nothing but his thick fingers. you moaned, coating each digit with your glistening saliva as he pounded right into you. the grip your cunt had on him made him groan. eyes roll into the depths of your cranium so far back that your vision was pure black. squelch after squelch, it was so erotic. the build up of your incoming release yet again.

it was so slow and tense, you felt your thighs ache and tremble the more you were arched all over for him. the most sluttiest arch he’s seen in a while.

“huh—oh, nah man i’m good,” toji replies with a simper. you were trying so hard to be quiet, if your father heard anything, that’d be a wrap for you.

dying out of pure embarrassment certainly wasn’t on your bucket list for sure. the way toji responded was so casual, almost as if he wasn’t just happily drilling into his best friend’s cunt in his own home. “four points? shit. defense can’t do anything right.”

“telllll me about it! i could play better with my eyes closed, damn.”

you found it so irksome how they were casually having a dumb conversation whilst you were just about to gush right onto toji’s shaft—you felt him dip his hips into you deeper though, and you let off a sweet whine.

toji leans into your ear and whispers. “you’re doing a good job, sweetheart,” and then he chuckles. removing his hand, you nearly let off the most loudest orgasm imaginable but you kept it together by biting your tongue. it was a cute squeal, and as your legs part you made such a mess.

again…

it was probably the umpteenth time.

while you ride out your release, he’s slowing down his strokes and stares at the excess cum filling up your entrance. toji licks his lips, dragging a thumb to plug it all back in once he pulls out. he didn’t like putting things to waste. you whimper, feeling so taken aback from how stuffed full you were.

it was an awkward silence, you felt a sharp scare in your stomach once you thought your father heard everything — but thankfully so, he plopped right back down on the couch. toji lets you take a moment to calm down, and then he brings a wet kiss towards your lips. you were so sensitive, trembling within his hold—you didn’t want him to leave just now.

“atta girl,” he purrs, that same sly smile pressing against his lips as he brings a thumb towards your lip. his gaze was so hypnotizing. such pools of green eyes looked like it had a story to tell, and perhaps you wanted to know just who toji fushiguro really was.

maybe that story is ready for another day though.

thankfully you didn’t get caught.

or did you—you had to leave out the bathroom first, then toji after about a lengthy minute time difference so it wouldn’t be remotely suspicious. once the both of you were out, after about an hour of you all crammed up and watching the boring never ending basketball game, your dad ends up going to the bathroom.

while he was occupied, you leaned against toji and he wraps an arm around you. he could tell you wanted more—but his gaze was stern, telling you with his eyes to basically be a good girl and be patient.

a few seconds pass before you father bellows out a pitched, “erm. toji? is this shampoo—? what’s this white stuff over the sink? doesn’t look like shampoo.”

the both of you share the same frozen expression, impish smiles fading before you nudge toji to speak after long seconds passes.

“huh? oh, that’s uh mayonnaise. i forgot to clean up after myself.”

“aren’t you allergic to mayonnaise?”

you mentally facepalm, watching toji break into a sheepish sweat before he gruffs out a low, “i guess not that brand of mayonnaise.”

“right. riiiight,” your father mutters, and you heard sudden shifting. it was abrupt, and you felt something fall — probably a brush from the familiar after sound, you then hear your dad add a follow up question. “wait a minute,” and he glances down near the floor. “are these panties?”

#★vegasbaby.#toji x reader #toji smut #toji fushiguro smut #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x you #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujustsu kaisen x reader #anime smut #female reader #cw sex mention #jjk x reader smut

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beloveds-embrace · 23 days ago

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(firefighters!141 x chubby reader… 👁️👁️ )

A friend of yours is a fire chief for your town’s local fire station. They ask you to help the fire station do some training drills for rescue operations. Your friend says it’s because you have acting skills, but you both silently acknowledge it probably has to do with the fact that you are chubby. Not fit, not thin, not easy to carry as evident by all the partners you’ve dated before- whatever you wanna call it.

It’s alright, you are pretty used to it. If they weren’t your friend, you would have honestly refused and saved yourself the inevitable humiliation, but alas. You are used to it, you really are.

You are introduced to Captain John Price, who holds your hand so warm and snug you have to will your blush away, but there’s nothing that can help you as he lays a big hand over your lower back and leads you to the waiting firemen. Three men, though you expected far more but John- Call me John, sweetheart. Captain is just for thos muppets- explains that they’ll be doing it in groups.

You are introduced to the three firemen (a Scot, and two Brits. Johnny, Kyle and Simon respectively. Unlike the other two, though, Simon is wearing a balaclava) and by god, you almost want to say that just for today, there is a different source of water they can use-

“Lay down here, sweetheart.” John’s voice breaks you out of your thoughts, and with a blush, you scramble to obey. The good girl you receive in return might as well be the best thing you’ve even been told in your entire life and the heat between your legs agrees as well.

Though you are quickly reminded that this will probably not go so well, considering your size and everything and maybe you should just apologize and leave already-

Before you can think about leaving, Johnny steps forward with that smirk he’s had since the beginning and a glint of mischief in his eyes. He crouches down next to you, stretching his arms out. “Alright, lass,” he says with a wink, “don’t be shy now. Let’s see if I’m up for the challenge.”

Before you can even process it, he slides his arms under you and lifts you up effortlessly- still mindful of your “injury”. Your face goes bright red as he shifts you in his grip, making sure you’re comfortable and safe. He gives a low whistle as he run around with you in his arms, a teasing grin plastered on his face. “Not too bad, eh? Thought I’d be struggling, but you’re light as a feather.” His grin widens, smug, as he watches your flustered reaction. “Didn’t expect me to be so strong, did ya, lass?”

You mumble something incoherent, trying to avoid his eyes, and he laughs, his deep chuckle vibrating through his chest. When he finally sets you down, you’re left feeling a little dazed, and before you can catch your breath, Kyle steps in and helps you lay back down.

“Alright, my turn,” he says with a gentle smile, his hands warm and careful as he reaches down to lift you. His grip is steady and secure, and he holds you with a tenderness that has your heart pounding in your chest. Unlike Johnny, Kyle doesn’t say much, but he gives you soft, reassuring smiles that somehow fluster you even more to the point where you really, really just want to bury your face in his shoulder. His arms feel solid around you, and there’s an easy confidence in the way he carries you that leaves you a little breathless.

“You doing okay, doll?” he asks, his voice low and soothing, and you nod, struggling to keep from blushing harder. He catches the faintest smile on your lips and chuckles softly, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary before he gently sets you back down.

Simon is next. He’s quiet as he approaches, his intense gaze flickering over you. Without a word, he slides his arms under you and lifts you in one smooth motion that leaves you drooling (in more ways than one). His hold is firm, and you can feel the strength in every part of his frame. If you weren’t playing the role of an injured, barely-conscious woman, you would honestly be begging to feel under his clothes.

He doesn’t say much as he carries you, but his steady breathing and the quiet intensity in his eyes speak volumes. You can barely hold his gaze; there’s something about his silent, stoic demeanor that sends your heart racing.

Finally, John steps up, and you realize you’re already blushing before he even touches you. Honestly? You doubt your face will return to normal anytime soon. “Alright, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his tone soft yet authoritative. He wraps his arms around you, lifting you with an ease that leaves you a little lightheaded. The warmth of his embrace and the strength in his arms make you feel small and delicate in a way that you’ve never felt before. It leaves you breathless, but in a good way. John holds you close, his breath tickling your ear as he chuckles. “Not so bad, is it?”

By the end of it, your cheeks are burning, and the four of them are all sharing knowing smirks- you can even see the slightest crinkles of Simon’s eyes.

“Well, I’d say you’ve helped these muppets passthe test alright, sweetheart.” John huffs, his voice warm and full of amusement, and the others chuckle in agreement, each of them clearly enjoying your reactions far more than you anticipated. You can barely meet any of their eyes, your heart still pounding from the attention- and the teasing glances they keep exchanging make it clear that they noticed every flustered look and blushing smile.

As you’re still catching your breath, John tilts his head, an amused smirk tugging at his lips, and continues. “Well, we’ll have to call you back soon for another round, sweetheart. Can’t let the boys get rusty.” he teases, giving you a wink.

Johnny chimes in with a grin, taking your hand and kissing your palm. “Aye, can’t let you off that easy, bonnie. We’ll need plenty more practice to make sure we’ve got it down, yeah?”

Kyle nods as well, his gaze fixed on you. Never before have you had so much attention on you, and you never realized how much you quite love it. “Wouldn’t be proper training without our favorite helper.”

Simon, ever the quiet one, just gives you a small nod, but there’s a glint of promise in his eyes that makes your stomach flip.

You can’t help but smile, feeling a warmth you didn’t expect filling your chest. “I’ll… I’ll look forward to it. I’m glad to be of help.” You manage, your cheeks still tingling from the attention.

As you turn to leave, maybe go and ask your friend what else they could need you for since you are such a gracious friend, John’s voice calls after you, low and steady. “Soon, sweetheart.” The words linger, making you wonder just how soon “soon” might really be.

You hope it’ll be soon enough. Very soon enough.

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itneverendshere · 1 month ago

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LOVED YOU AT YOUR WORST - r.c series - ONE

pairings: ex!sweethearts; rafe x thornton!reader; rafe x sofia. chapter warnings: none (angst) chapter two┆ chapter three ┆ chapter four

The bass from the speakers rattled the glass in your hand as you leaned against the porch railing, eyes scanning the backyard for him—Rafe.

It had been a long month.

Longer than you thought it would be. Usually, when you and Rafe had your little “breaks,” they lasted about a week, maybe two at most. It was always something stupid, a screaming match that ended with slammed doors and his truck peeling out of your driveway. But it never lasted. It couldn’t. You’d known each other too long, been through too much, and deep down, there was this unspoken truth—he’d always come back. Or, you would.

But this time was different.

This time, he wasn’t calling or showing up at your window in the middle of the night, eyes tired and sorry, pulling you into his arms. The space between you had been growing wider since his dad died. And sure, maybe it was your fault for what you said after Ward’s death—But it was the truth.

Still, you hadn’t expected him to shut you out completely. Two months. Two months of silence. And the only thing you’d heard about him since was through Ruthie, Topper’s new girlfriend, of all people. A random comment at Mase’s place—something about how Rafe had been hanging around some pogue girl named Sofia.

You’d rolled your eyes at that. Rafe? With some Pogue? Yeah, right. You’d pretended not to care when she tossed it out like it was nothing

You weren’t stupid.

You’d always known Rafe wasn’t the easiest guy to love. He was complicated, angry, reckless—but so were you. And in some messed-up way, that’s why you two worked. Or at least, why you thought you did. You were just as stubborn, just as damaged. But now, as you sipped your drink and looked around, something felt off. Your gut was tight, and that nagging feeling that’d been growing restless under your skin since the breakup only grew stronger the longer you stood there.

You pushed yourself off the railing, discarding your drink on a table before moving through the crowd, past people you knew but didn’t bother with. Your mind was set on one thing—Rafe. You were done with the break. You had your space. It’s time to get back together. It was never even really a question. It was just the way things worked with you two.

But then there was Ruthie—blocking your path, her wide smile dripping with the kind of smugness that set your teeth on edge. She looked like she was reveling in your misery and that little giggle she let out only made it worse.

"So glad you could make it!" she sang out, her voice too sweet, too bright. Her eyes flickered over you like she was sizing you up, taking stock of every inch of your perfectly put-together outfit.

You forced a smile, “Yeah, well, wouldn’t miss a party like this,” you said, keeping your tone casual.

You weren’t in the mood for whatever game she was playing.

“Oh, I just bet,” she replied, her smile growing wider. She stepped closer, her breath reeking of cheap wine, and you had to resist the urge to roll your eyes. Ruthie always drank too much at these things.

What the hell was her problem? She always acted like she knew something you didn’t, like she held the keys to all the dirty little secrets in Kildare, and she loved dangling them in front of people just to watch them squirm.

“Ruthie, I swear to God—” you began, but she cut you off, her grin widening.

“Oh, honey,” she cooed, her voice dripping with fake sympathy, “don’t get mad at me. I’m just the messenger. You should really be talking to Rafe about this.” She took a step back, still smiling, and glanced over her shoulder. “He’s around, you know. You can go find him yourself. See how cozy he’s gotten with her.”

You bit your tongue, jaw, forcing yourself to stay calm. She was trying to get under your skin, like the snake she’d always been. You couldn’t believe Top was lonely and horny enough to finally fall into her claws.

“Thanks for the tip,” you gave her a tight lipped grimace, brushing past her, didn’t try and wait for her reply.

You only caught glimpses of empty rooms along the way. You hadn’t seen him since the break, and part of you didn’t want to admit how much that messed you up. How much he messed you up. Your steps slowed as you neared the hall that led to the back of the house, the sound of voices filtering through the air. You recognized some, laughed at the drunken ramblings, until one voice cut through the noise. Rafe’s.

And then you heard hers. No fucking way.

You didn’t stop. You couldn’t. You told yourself you just needed to see him, just talk to him, tell him this break had gone on long enough, that you were done with the games. That’s when you heard it again—her laugh. It was light, flirtatious, the kind of laugh that made your stomach turn into a million different directions because you knew exactly what it meant.

She was there, with him.

You moved forward, the hallway barely lit as you reached the half-closed bathroom door. Your breath hitched, hands trembling as you peeked through the small crack, unable to stop yourself from looking.

There they were.

She was smiling, laughing softly at something he’d said, her fingers brushing through her hair as if she didn’t have a care in the world. Your breath caught in your throat as you watched his hands move, tying the knot in her bikini with such gentle precision like he’d done it a thousand times. The kind of softness he used to have with you. And then he said it, his voice teasing, amused like this was some kind of inside joke between them.

"God, this is just landing right in my lap, isn’t it?"

You froze.

He laughed quietly, his lips brushing against Sofia’s shoulder as he tied the last knot, and the way he touched her—like she was something to be savored—sent a rush of pure, burning humiliation straight through your chest.

You stumbled back, your heart pounding in your ears as Rafe’s words repeated over and over in your head. Landing right in my lap. What the fuck was this?

Your heart clenched, vision blurring as what you were seeing slammed right into you. You backed away, your hand flying to your mouth to stop the sob from escaping. But it didn’t help. Not even à little. The tears burned, and you turned quickly, practically running back through the house and out the door before anyone could see the humiliating mess you were becoming.

It was real. He moved on. In two fucking months.

That’s all it had taken for him to replace you. To be done with you. He was over you. Just like that.

After everything you’d been through together, after all the times you had to pull him out of his own darkness, after the nights spent in his arms when you thought you couldn’t breathe because your whole family was gone—after years of being his and him being yours—how the fuck could he move on when you’d been rotting away in self loathing for pushing him away?

Your head spun as you stumbled down the steps, out to the street where your car was parked. You couldn’t breathe. Your breaths were coming out too fast, too shallow, and your hands were shaking so hard you had to press them against your knees to hold yourself up.

What the hell was wrong with you? You hadn’t even had anything to drink.

But your stomach was rolling, twisting in knots so tight you could barely stand straight. You leaned against the side of your car, the cool metal grounding you to reality for a second before a wave of nausea hit, forcing you to double over and retch onto the pavement. Tears stung your eyes as you coughed, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

You felt dizzy, disgusted even, everything you thought you knew, everything you thought was yours, had been ripped out from under you.

Without a single warning. Not a text, not a stupid call, just pure indifference. No respect or regard for you. None of them. Everything you’d just seen replayed in your mind—Rafe, her, the way he touched her like she meant something to him.

“Look who’s still standing!” Topper’s voice. He was laughing as he strolled over, hands shoved in his pockets, that same carefree grin on his face that he always had at parties. “Jesus, what did you have to drink? You look like you’ve been hit by a truck.”

Normally, you might have had something to say back, maybe a fiery insult or a roll of your eyes. But right now, everything felt like too much. You couldn’t say a word. You could barely breathe.

Your cousin stopped beside you, his grin dropping as he finally looked at you. “Hey, what’s wrong?” He leaned down, trying to catch your eyes. “You good? You look kinda—"

You cut him off, the question was heavy, like a lump lodged in your throat. “Did you know?”

He blinked, the confusion spreading across his face. “Know what?”

You swallowed, your heart hammering in your chest as you forced the words out, your voice shaking. “About Rafe and Sofia.”

You hated saying her name.

Hated that you’d been forced to know it by heart. Topper’s smile dropped, his expression changing.

He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to, you knew him well enough to read his micro expressions. You clenched your fists, it felt like you were the only one in the island who’d been let out of the secret.

Surely, your friends, your only family would’ve told you something right? It’s not like you were on a remote island away from them. You’d spent the last month in New York, not in the fucking jungle. You visited occasionally. You were a call away.

“Did everyone fucking know?”

Topper exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, we didn’t think it was serious. You know how it is with you two—you’ve done this before. Played with other people…”

Played with other people. Like you and Rafe were just some game, a revolving door of heartbreak and hookups. It didn’t make sense. You’d always known how it worked, understood how these things went—sure, you’d had your minor flings, and he’d had his, but it was never real.

You stumbled back, feeling like you might collapse. “Oh my God, I’m going to be sick again.”

He reached out, obviously concerned since he hadn’t seen you in this desperate state in years, “Hey, hey, calm down. Look, it’s not like it means anything. Rafe’s just—he’s going through a lot with his dad dying, and he… he’s just messing around. You know how he gets.”

But the words did nothing to soothe you. They only made it worse—how everyone knew. How they’d all watched Rafe move on, while you were stuck, still reeling from the breakup, thinking he’d come back like he always did. And he was just out there, with her.

With someone else. You pressed a hand to your stomach, your head hurting. The idea of Sofia, of Rafe being with someone else in ways that only you knew—ways that had always been yours—made you feel like you were being torn apart.

Topper was still talking, still trying to rationalize it, but his words were like static now, blending into the noise of the party behind you. “It doesn’t mean anything,” he was saying. “You know how it goes. You always end up back together. He’s just doing whatever to distract himself.”

That word. Distract himself. Like your entire relationship could be boiled down to that—a series of distractions until you decided to come back to each other, to pick up the pieces and pretend everything was okay.

You could still remember the night your life changed—the phone call, the horrible, gut-wrenching moment when you learned that your family’s private plane had gone down. Your parents. Your sister. Gone. Just like that. And Rafe had been the one to pull you through it. He was the one who had held you as you cried so hard you thought you were going to die, who sat with you in silence when you couldn’t bring yourself to speak, who stayed with you every single night because you were terrified to be alone in a haunted mansion that now felt like a mausoleum.

You had been seventeen, and losing them all at once had killed something inside of you. But he was there. He wasn’t perfect—far from it—but he knew what it was like to grieve.

He knew loss. He understood. Because you’d been there for him two years earlier, when his mom lost her battle to cancer. You could still see the look in his eyes that day—fourteen years old and already drowning in so much anger and sadness, like the world had ripped something essential out of him.

The way he cried at her funeral when he thought no one was watching, and you’d found him, sat beside him in the cold, letting him cry without saying a word. You hadn’t started dating yet, hadn’t crossed that line, but something had changed between you two in those moments.

A connection, a bond forged in shared pain, in the kind of trauma that no one else really got. Maybe that was why you were so obsessed with each other. Maybe it was fucked up, but you couldn’t imagine anyone else understanding you the way Rafe did.

How could it all come down to this? To you standing here, feeling like the world was ending while he moved on, laughing and touching someone else like nothing you had ever been through mattered?

Was that it? Did that one moment, that one argument about Ward, erase everything you’d done for him?

All the times you’d been there, the way you had comforted him when he felt like his life was spiraling? You remembered exactly what you’d said a month after the funeral, when your boyfriend blamed everyone but Ward for his own death. "He wasn’t a good person, baby. I know he was your dad, but you can’t pretend like he didn’t fuck you up."

You hadn’t even said it to hurt him, not really. It was just the truth. Ward had been a terrible father, controlling and manipulative, and you’d spent years watching Rafe try to live up to some impossible standard, chasing his father’s approval like it would ever be enough. But that didn’t make it easier for him to hear. You should have known better. You should have known how raw he was after losing his dad, how complicated his feelings were.

But instead, you’d been brutal. Honest, but brutal.

And now, two months later, here you were—staring at the empty street, wondering if you’d pushed him too far. If that one moment of honesty was enough to make him forget everything else. Now you were just the ex, the crazy one who didn’t know when to keep her mouth shut.

“Fuck, why did I say that?” you whispered to yourself, voice shaking. Why couldn’t you have just let it go?

But then another clarity of anger took over you, pushing away the guilt that had been building inside. So you’d been too harsh about Ward. So you’d said what everyone else had been too scared to say. It wasn’t like you’d been wrong. Ward had messed Rafe up.

Everyone knew it. He knew it, deep down.

You gritted your teeth, staring out at the dark street, the low hum of the party still buzzing faintly behind you. You were never going to get that picture out of your head. Like they hadn’t just met, like you hadn’t spent years learning how to calm Rafe when he spiraled, how to hold him together when he couldn’t hold himself.

Your chest tightened again, a bitter taste rising in your throat.

You could still feel the weight of his head on your shoulder that night, years ago, when his mom passed. The silent sobs that shook his body, the way he’d held onto you. That was the real Rafe—the one he hid from everyone else. The one who was lost and broken underneath all the anger. And you’d seen him, really seen him in ways no one else ever could. Not Sofia. Not anyone.

"Look, you're emotional, okay? I get it. Maybe it's that time of the month or something. You know how you always get when your hormones go crazy."

The words got to you, but not in the way he probably thought they would. At first, it pissed you off, like it always did when people tried to downplay your emotions. Everyone always said you felt too much. That you were out of control.

But then…

You stopped moving, blinking rapidly as his words spiraled around in your brain. ‘Time of the month’, he'd said.

Your heart started doing summersaults, your stomach dropping as the idea settled in. You grabbed your phone, hands trembling like leaves as you opened the calendar app. You scrolled, trying to think, trying to remember when you’d last…fuck.

You hadn’t had your period in… so long.

Almost two months. No. No, no, no. This couldn’t be happening. It had to be some kind of fucked up joke.

You felt light-headed as you reached for your car again, your body shaking so badly you could barely stand against the door. "Shit."

How could you not have noticed?

Topper noticed the change in you instantly, his brow furrowing. "What’s wrong with you?" he asked, his tone softening a little. "You okay?"

You couldn’t even form a sentence. Your brain was too full of what-ifs. Two months late.

You hadn't even thought about it until now—everything had taken so much space in your head that you hadn't noticed the most obvious sign. This wasn’t possible. Your hand flew to your stomach, almost instinctively. You had no idea what to do with the panic creeping up your throat.

“Shit,” You hissed, this time louder, trying to push the growing dread down. But it wouldn't go away.

He was still staring at you, “What? What’s going on? You’re freaking me out.”

But you were already backing away, shaking your head, “I—I need to go,” You mumbled, barely hearing yourself.

Your cousin moved quickly to block your path as you tried to make your way toward the door. That kind of protective streak only made you want to shove past him even more.

"You’re not driving in this state." he warned you, voice firm, his hands up like he was trying to physically stop you.

You just glared at him, “Fucking watch me.”

He didn’t budge. "You get in that car and I'm calling Rafe," he said, sounding dead serious.

You couldn’t believe it. Your head was already spinning, and he was trying to guilt-trip you like this was some kind of helpful thing to do? You threw your hands up in frustration, voice rising, cracking. "He’s too busy fucking Sofia. Knock yourself out."

The words felt like venom in your mouth, the bitterness rolling off your tongue. You didn’t care how harsh they sounded. You didn’t care about anything anymore except getting away from this suffocating stupid place. Before he could say anything else, you made your move. You pushed past him with all your strength, chest hurting with the urge to feel something other than this suffocating mess of emotions and confusion.

Your hands shook as you fumbled for your keys. You managed to unlock the door, sliding into the driver’s seat, the cool leather biting into your skin.

You needed to think. But all you could think about was that one, terrifying realization: you might be pregnant.

Your breath hitched, terror swirling around your chest. The calendar app was still open on your phone, the dates staring back at you like a flashing red warning sign, daring you to confront the truth you’d been ignoring. Two months. Two months without a period. And you hadn’t even noticed. You pressed a hand to your stomach again, heart pounding as if it was trying to escape your chest. This couldn’t be happening. Not now. Not like this.

You weren’t thinking clearly—shit, you weren’t thinking at all, but you couldn’t stay here. Not with Topper trying to baby you, not with him out there, living his best life like you didn’t even exist.

You turned the key, the engine roaring to life, and just as you gripped the wheel, ready to peel out of the driveway, Topper bolted in front of the car, planting himself right there like some kind of human roadblock. Fucking idiot. His arms were stretched out wide, like he could somehow stop you by sheer willpower.

“You’re not doing this, I swear to God, you’re not!” he yelled, his voice frantic, echoing off the dark street. He looked panicked, pleading even, like he was convinced you’d actually go through with it.

You gritted your teeth, eyes narrowing on him through the windshield. “Top, I swear, you have three seconds before I run you over.”

“Are you serious right now?” he yelled, his voice cracking with disbelief. But he didn’t move. “You think I’m letting you drive like this? You’re out of your fuckin’ mind!”

Your fingers gripping the wheel so hard it hurt. You weren’t bluffing. You were too wound up, too out of control. The only thing keeping you from flooring him was the fact that, deep down, you knew your cousin didn’t deserve it.

You just needed to get out of here.

“Move!” you screamed, “I’m not joking’, Topper. Get the fuck out of my way!”

His face twisted with frustration as he looked over his shoulder, something catching his attention. He started waving, yelling at someone, his voice cutting through the night, “Rafe! Dude, get over here!”

Your brain stopped. It was like everything had been sucked out of you. Your hands froze on the wheel, your entire body locking up as you looked to your right and saw him—Rafe. Right there in the yard.

And she was with him. He had his arm draped around her casually, like she belonged there.

Like he belonged there, just standing in the open, so stupidly comfortable in his new life. His head turned when he heard Topper call out, and your eyes locked for a less than a second. A moment too long. A moment that broke something inside you.

While Topper was distracted, his attention on Rafe, you made your move. You slammed your foot on the gas, tires screeching as the car lurched forward, swerving just enough to dodge Topper’s stunned figure. You heard him yell after you, but his voice faded into the background noise as you sped away.

You didn’t look back. Not at Top, not at Rafe.

The only thing you could hear was the sound of your own heartbeat pounding in your ears, drowning out everything else. You hated this. Hated that you were crying. Hated that you’d let yourself get to this point.

“God, what is wrong with me?” you muttered, your voice quavering as the words tumbled out. “Why the fuck am I crying over him? I shouldn’t be crying over him.” You slammed your palm against the steering wheel, angry, disgusted with yourself.

You’d told yourself you were stronger than this—that after everything you’d been through, you didn’t need him or anyone else. But here you were, falling apart like some pathetic excuse of a mess because of him. Because he had always been there, hadn’t he? After the crash, after you lost everything, he was the one constant, the one person who kept you from completely losing it. You’d relied on him so much. Too much.

“Fuck,” you hissed, tears streaming down your face. Your throat burned as the memories came flooding back, memories of all the nights you’d spent together, of him holding you while you cried yourself to sleep, of the way he’d pulled you out of the gloom when you thought you’d never get back up again. You thought he’d always be that person for you, the one who understood your broken pieces because he had his own. You’d always fit together perfectly.

You pulled into the parking lot of the nearest drugstore, your hands still shaking as you put the car in park. The tears had dried up on the drive over, replaced by a cold determination. You didn’t want to be here. Didn’t want to even think about what you were about to do.

The moment you stepped out of your car and into the harsh fluorescent lighting of the drugstore, you felt completely out of place—like a stranger in your own skin. You hadn’t even thought about how ridiculous you must’ve looked until you caught your reflection in one of the store’s glass windows. Your hair, still perfect from earlier, framed your face in soft waves, and your makeup was flawless, despite the crying. The designer dress you were wearing—sleek, red, and worth more than half the shit in this store—with its sticky floors and white lights, it made you feel like an alien. Like you didn’t belong.

You caught the eyes of a couple of people loitering outside the entrance as you walked in, their stares lingering a little too long, murmuring to each other behind smirks. You knew they were talking about you. They always did, kook queen, overdressed, out of touch, bitch, whatever they wanted to call you.

The sliding doors let out a grating beep as you entered, and the air inside was stale and heavy, reeking of floor cleaner and cheap perfume. You adjusted your grip on your purse, strutting past the aisles with your head high even though everything inside you felt like it was falling apart.

You always did this—dressed to kill, head up, like armor. But there was no real glamour in buying pregnancy tests from some random pharmacy in the middle of the night. No way to mask the deep, growing hysteria in your bones.

The girl behind the register clocked you the second you stepped up to the counter, her eyes dragging over your like she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing. You could almost hear her thoughts: What the hell is someone like you doing here?

You didn’t even look at her. You just wanted to pay and leave without a scene. But of course, people always found a way to make things worse. She hesitated before scanning the tests, looking like she might say something. For her own good, you prayed she didn’t.

You threw the money on the counter before she could open her mouth, two crisp hundreds on top of the total. The cash hit the counter with a sharp thwap and you gave her the bitchiest look you could muster. “Take it. Keep your fucking mouth shut.”

She swallowed hard, her hand trembling as she slid the bills into the register. You didn’t care that she was young or nervous. You weren’t here to make friends. You weren’t here for anyone’s sympathy. The extra money would make sure she didn’t talk, that was all that mattered.

You walked out, your heels clicking against the linoleum, head high, even though every nerve in your body screamed for you to disappear. You slid into your truck, slamming the door shut, the silence finally hitting you. For all the designer clothes, the makeup, the money—none of it meant shit right now. You felt so small. So scared. Terribly lonely.

You sat there for what felt like forever, staring at the stupid bag in the passenger seat like it had the power to ruin your whole life—which, to be fair, it kind of did. You didn’t know what the fuck you were going to do. Not about any of it.

Your foot tapped nervously against the floor mat, the sound too loud in the quiet car. The bag crinkled as you glanced at it again, your stomach twisting all over again. A bunch of pregnancy tests. How had it come to this?

Rafe. You squeezed your eyes shut, willing yourself not to think about him, not to picture his face when he found out. If he found out. Shit, what the hell was he going to do? He was with Sofia now, right? So was this going to ruin his life too? Did he even deserve to know?

It was probably nothing, you told yourself. Maybe the separation anxiety had gotten to you. Maybe your body was just fucked up from all the stress. Maybe your period was just late because you’d been so all over the place lately. There could be a million reasons. You didn’t even want to think about what would happen if it wasn’t nothing.

You didn’t want to cry anymore. Not after all of this. Not over Rafe. Not over your life turning into some fucking soap opera you didn’t even want to be a part of.

The second you were inside your house, the walls closed in around you. Your perfectly decorated place—the one you’d spent so much time making into a refuge, an escape—it didn’t feel like that anymore. Every designer pillow, every carefully chosen piece of art, mocking you.

Your phone buzzed in your bag, you reached for it. Of course, it was Rafe.

“I don’t know what the fuck that was but save the fucking dramatics, okay?”

The nerve. The fucking nerve of him to act like he was the center of your universe, acting like you were some inconvenience. Months of silence and this was the first thing he decided to text you? Knowing how much you despised when people called you a drama queen? Fucking piece of shit.

Your fingers hovered over the screen, a thousand different responses running through your mind. You wanted to tell him to shove something up his ass. But you did the only thing that felt right in that moment.

You blocked him. You stared at your phone, half expecting it to buzz again, half dreading that it wouldn’t. It was done. You cut him off, at least in that tiny, virtual way. You sat there for a minute, gripping the phone, trying to remember how to breathe.

This was supposed to feel empowering, right? You told yourself it would. That cutting him out would help you get back some control. But your mind wouldn’t settle. Those damn pregnancy tests were sitting in the bag next to you.

You were tired.

Exhausted in a way that had nothing to do with how late it was or how emotionally spent you were. You kicked off your heels, letting them clatter against the hardwood floor as you sank into the plush couch. Your house felt cold and unwelcoming tonight. Like a showroom. No comfort to be found. Not here, not in the muted tones of beige and white. Not in the sleek lines of furniture that were supposed to exude elegance and sophistication.

Maybe tomorrow you’d feel differently.

Maybe you’d wake up with a clear head, ready to take the stupid tests. Maybe you’d be strong again like you’d been so many times before.

Tonight, you were just tired. You leaned back against the cushions, closing your eyes for a moment, willing the noise in your head to quiet down. Sleep. That’s what you needed. Just a few hours to clear your mind, and in the morning, you’d deal with everything.

All of this would go away.

TAGLIST: @maybankslover @october-baby25 @haruvalentine4321 @hopelesslydevoted2paige @rafebb

@rafesbbyy @whytheylosttheirminds @astarlights @bruher @nosebeers @carrerascameron @serrendiipty @sunny1616

@yootvi @ditzyzombiesblog @psychocitylights @maibelitaaura @kiiyomei

@stoned-writer @justafangirls-blog-deactivated2 @starkeygirlposts @enjoymyloves @ijustwanttoreadlols

@icaqttt

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ghostsprincess · 1 month ago

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I can't stop thinking about Ghost being such a gentleman when your boyfriend is an ass....

warning: domestic abuse, adult language

💀

You were mortified that it happened at work this time...

Your boyfriend was a brute of a man, made worse over the months by drinking alone at night while you bartended to help pay down your student debts from several years ago. He got a little rough with you, but only when he was plastered. And you forgave him, because he was decent the rest of the time.

But suddenly you had to start coming to the pub to pull pints with a little extra makeup on your face. The random patrons out for a casual drink wouldn't have noticed, but your regular boys did. You only knew them by Ghost and Soap. They were military and mean looking, but they laughed together like teenage schoolmates. It was always a good night when they sat at the bar, but you could often feel their eyes on you.

"Y' alright, love?" Ghost asked the first night you wore extra eye makeup and a bright red lipstick.

"Yes," you told him, not meeting his eyes. Your face hurt. Your boyfriend had slapped you two days ago. Your skin was puffy and bruised, and you were embarrassed and afraid to move out, so you stayed. "You boys need another round?"

They left you a sizable tip. They always did.

The next time you saw them, your lip was split open, and you were desperate for a way out of the mess your life had turned into. Trying to hide your face while you mixed drinks was a chore, and as soon as Ghost and Soap arrived, you knew it was useless.

When Soap disappeared toward the washrooms, Ghost leaned across the bar, his hulking shoulders taking up more than their fair of space, making you smile slightly. His voice was deep and soft, but his words made you shiver and freeze with your hand on a pint glass. "Y' know, a pretty little thing like you belongs on a pedestal. A man should touch you with reverence."

You stared at him silently as his eyes tracked the mark on your lip. When Soap returned, you didn't charge them a cent for their drink, but they tipped you well anyway.

When a confrontation happened at the bar, tears stung your eyes, and you wanted to hide. Your boyfriend was drunk and angry, and tonight he beckoned you from behind the bar to a dark corner near the hallway where he could have some privacy while he berated you and roughed you up.

"Please," you begged, running your hands nervously on your shirt. "Just go home. I'll be off work in an hour."

"How many of them have you fucked?"

"What?" you gasped, thinking he'd finally lost it. "What are you talking about? I need to get back to work."

He pushed you up against the wall with his other hand on your jaw. "How many of the men here tonight have you fucked?" His thumb brushed the spot on your lip that was nearly healed, and you flinched. "You have the guiltiest expression. So, tell me how much of a slut you've been. As your boyfriend, I need to keep you in line."

Then he was being hauled away from you as your legs shook. With wide eyes, you watched Ghost's massive bicep wrap around his neck like it was nothing. "Y' alright, love?" he asked you softly, and you nodded without saying a word. Then his face darkened, and his voice was an angry snarl as he told your boyfriend, "Ya' been relieved of your duties."

"The fuck?" he responded from his headlock, gasping for air.

Ghost sighed and rolled his eyes. "Fuckin' prick don't even know military protocol." Then he raised his voice a little louder. "I said, ya' been relieved of your duties. I'll take over from here."

Somehow, you found your voice. "Take over?"

Ghost's face softened again when he looked at you there against the narrow hallway wall. "With the boyfriend duties," he told you while Soap dragged your ex-boyfriend toward the exit. "Sound good, love?"

He was holding out his big paw of a hand, palm facing up, and you knew he'd be incapable of using it to hurt you. The softness in his gaze right now and every time he looked at you was proof enough of that. You didn't respond, but you smiled as you slid your hand into his grasp.

"That'll do for now," he grunted.

That was the night you came to know him as Simon.

💀

Part two

#simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley cod #ghost simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost x reader #simon riley imagine #simon ghost x you #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #ghost imagine #call of duty #ghost riley #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghostsprincess

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whirlybirbs · 2 months ago

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— CAN'T WE BE SEVENTEEN? ; shoto todoroki ; 焦凍

summary: he's loved you since he was seventeen. pairing: f!reader x pro hero!shoto ; reader was a 1-A student tags: mutual pining, heavy make-out, thinly veiled sugar daddy shoto, reader does not go pro, touya might be a dick but he's a hero now, shoto is bad at feelings wordcount: 5.6k a/n: i do not fucking know what came over me, enjoy your food my little todorokinas. yes the title is what you think it is. no i will not elaborate.

You never did go pro.

Truthfully, you thought there would be more pushback when, in your senior year, you announced your plan to pursue a degree in early childhood education with a focus on non-conforming quirk development.

The War changed a lot. It changed you, your classmates, and the world. But, through it all one thing stuck with you:

What if someone helped Tenko Shimura?

How different would his life have been? How different would history have spun?

You graduated at the top of your class and joined the faculty at Chiba Prefectural Preparatory School for Quirk Specialties two years ago.

Chiba Prep was opened eight years ago in response to a societal cry for more infrastructure around what was dubbed "non-conforming quirks": a nice way to say quirks that can injure, maim, or kill. Maybe even all three on a bad day. Some parents still see their child being labeled as a non-conforming quirk user in the national database as akin to social suicide.

You see it differently.

Your quirk allows you to manipulate emotions — anger, sadness, betrayal, love, hatred. If you can feel it, you can sink it into another's psyche deep enough to drive them to act. You can even imbue things with feelings. For example, a cup of warm milk can transform into more than just a simple comfort, now it can hold the feeling of home and safety, or even exhaustion strong enough to put even the biggest foe to rest.

You could easily use your quirk with nefarious intent.

You could steep hatred in someone's bone so deep it drives them to harm themselves. You could sew fury so solid into someone's mind it drives them to violence.

Just a touch and you can control others with something so intrinsically personal it only exists within themselves: their feelings.

What makes you any different from little Asuke, a shy little girl with a quirk that allows her to see people's greatest fears, and then manifest and control them? You're convinced she can use this for good, if only with practice. In your mind, her future is bright and glimmering. Perhaps she will become a therapist, focusing on exposure therapy? Or, maybe the most prolific horror novelist in their time?

Or, bright and sunny Tao — a transplant whose parents sought out Chiba Prep's specialized education — whose heteromorphic quirk makes his bodily fluids, namely saliva, eat through nearly anything but his own biologics. A sneeze is quickly the most dangerous thing in the world for the cheery, lizard-bodied class clown.

He's just a boy given a quirk that needs more care.

He isn't a villain-in-training.

None of them are.

It's important to teach them that young — and as their teacher for Year 3 of their elementary schooling, you aim to hammer that in as much as possible. They deserve to feel normal. To feel loved and supported. They aren't scary, they're children.

So, you take it upon yourself to insist on pushing for privileges like field trips. There aren't many public spaces that welcome the classes of Chiba Prep with open arms. Over the years, there have been plenty of incidents. But, a day trip into the city to visit Tokyo's Hall of Heroes is green-lit with bubbling excitement from both faculty, the children, and their parents.

You usually keep your history as a graduated member of Class 1-A quiet.

After all, you never did go pro.

And even still, Shoto Todoroki never stopped thinking about you.

He remembers that weekend everyone moved back in for their last year before graduation. He remembers you smiling at him, and helping him drag up a duffel of luggage from the common room to his dorm. You made a joke about how you're sure he got taller over the summer, and how his hair is longer now. You said you liked it.

It was the beginning of the end, then.

His crush was a silent, smothering thing. It made it hard to think. Shoto had enough on his plate thanks to Touya's acceptance into the Villain Rehabilitation Program and his father's insistence on staving off retirement. Not to mention his parent's divorce — no matter how amicable, it was still a separation. Add on training, tests, studying, finals, and j-term classes... And a desperate, writhing, burning crush on the nicest girl in class?

Touya's elbow digs into Shoto's side.

It drags him back to reality — to the stifled quiet of the historical Hall of Heroes.

Suddenly, the doors to the wing squeak open, and a tour guide ushers in the elementary school class. The buzzing excitement and wonder are visible on each of their faces as the attendant — one of the HoH's lead tour guides — excitedly explains the newest, in-progress addition to the Hall:

Endeavor's wing.

There's a whisper of awe that ripples through the children as their teacher and co-teacher follow, and as the class moves through the large, open space. They're staring up eagerly at the gilded statue in the center of the room. It's larger than life and intimidating. Years ago, Shoto might have had to fight the odd tremble in his knees at the reminder it brings: to be small in his father's shadow again. But, things are different now.

Very different.

Touya scoffs. "I thought this wing wasn't open to the public yet."

"They're just children," Shoto hums, turning his back on the gaggle across the way to inspect the large mural winding along the back end of the installation, "I'm sure it's—"

"Oh, ho, no way!"

Shoto quirks his brow at his brother's outburst. His elbow digs into Shoto's ribs again.

"Ain't that the pretty girl you never got the balls to ask out your senior year?" comes the rasped drawl of his older brother's voice. Touya is clearly amused, his white hair hanging in his eyes as he leans forward to squint, "She is cute, Sho'—"

"Shut up," Shoto grits, turning his head over his shoulder; he tries to bite back the flurry of nerves that ignite in his gut, "Stop talking."

It is you.

You look... good.

Happy.

You're crouched by a small, timid girl in the back of the crowd. Your hand is in hers, and you're pointing upwards at the large paneled screens replaying Endeavor's most historic fights. You're explaining something to her, your knees bent as you squat. You look... the same. As if in the six years since they graduated, you sat still in time.

For a second, it's like he's seventeen again.

It's his senior year, and he's stuck at the corner of the gym's edge with a half-empty glass of punch in his hand. The lights are low, and there's slow music playing. His tie feels too tight. Bakugo keeps telling him to 'ask her to dance already', and Kirishima is considering bashing his head through the wall. Even Midorya is trying to persuade Shoto.

"It's prom, man! C'mon, this could be your last chance—"

Touya is about to be a real pain in the ass — his favorite pastime — and make some comment about your ass, but when he turns to lob the one-liner at his baby brother, Shoto's gone.

Shoto is on the move.

The crescendo of gasps draws your attention first.

Then, the cry of "WOAH, IT'S SHOTO!" leaves you dumbfounded. The rippling murmur of excitement bleeds into the children as their eyes — and the eyes of the tour guide — widen at the sight of the approaching Pro Hero.

Shoto Todoroki.

He looks... good.

Really good.

He's a bit older, and a bit more filled out than when you were both teenagers. You can see the strength in his arms and shoulders — it's a distant echo of his father's physique, though Shoto is so much more elegant and much... prettier. He's always been.

For a second, you're seventeen again.

It's your senior year, and you're sprawled across Momo Yaoyorozu's bed.

They had finally wrangled out of you who your crush was: something they hadn't been able to do in all their years as classmates.

There's a sticky, Miss Midnight-themed face mask clinging to your expression as you try to flip through the large magazine in your hands as nonchalantly as possible. Mina's voice, as she paints Ochaco's nails a bright pink on the floor, is sweet and saccharine as she looks up at you.

"I think you and Shoto would be, like, the cutest couple ever."

You're still crouched when the tour guide nervously — like she was caught doing something naughty — introduces The Pro Hero Shoto to the already-aware crowd of elementary school students and their teachers. It's like igniting a match; the uproar of excitement leaves you laughing as three of your boys push forward to bombard him with questions about his quirk.

Asuke is smiling shyly, now. That's a small win. She's intrigued by the appearance of a real hero, not the "scary statues" — and her big, fat tears stopped rolling the moment you laid a gentle hand on her to quell her anxiety over the new environment with a push of comfort through your quirk. She unhooks her pinkie finger from yours as you guide her towards your co-teacher.

"Boys," you call with a crisp air of authority as you stand and lead Asuke toward the bulk of the field trip group, "What have we learned about personal space?"

"It's fine, really, Insight," comes Shoto's voice; as warm and placid as you remember.

"Insight?" mutters your co-teacher at the presumed hero-name; a look of confusion plasters itself on her face, and her big, feline ears perk up. She leans in to whisper in a way that borders on conspiratory, "Do you two know one another?"

"Old classmates," you confirm, not daring to get into the finer details.

Shoto's attention is entirely rooted in the way you manage the kids. There's something beautiful about the ease with which you handle the bouquet of students; you quell the excitement into a manageable decibel like it's as easy as breathing.

"Shoto," you start as you gesture to him, "Has a very special quirk — Toyamai, he has ice like you. And, fire like Tojiro. He can regulate his temperature. Can anyone tell me what that means?"

There's a wave of hands shooting up, a few me, me, me's rise from the gaggle.

You're using him as a teaching moment.

Shoto's smile is soft.

You nod at Ogomi, excitedly nodding as the reserved child speaks up. Normally, he hates public speaking. But, recently, he's started working with the speech pathologist during lunch. The boy bounces a little as he answers. "He doesn't g-get too hot, or too c-cold."

"Exactly! Isn't that cool?" you grin at the lazy attempt at a pun, "This is why it's important to learn about our quirks as much as we can!"

Touya thinks this whole thing is just too cute.

You're different than he remembers — but, granted, things were sorta different last time he saw you. He was a little too busy tryna kill his old man and lil' Shoto. He's different now, too. A changed man! A real licensed hero. Support items and all.

He hangs back.

He... I mean, he is a jack-ass but he isn't gonna ruin this for Shoto.

...It's kinda cute.

Just about as cute as Fuyumi said it was.

Apparently, Shoto had opened up to her and Natsuo about his feelings after graduation — about how he regretted not doing anything about it. Fuyumi then told their mum, who then off-handedly mentioned it to Touya... and well Touya dug in because, duh, he is a whore for good gossip. He might be the family's black sheep, but Shoto is the glue that binds.

And he deserves to be happy.

Your co-teacher is ushering the kids to the next installation — a viewing of All Might's Legacy, a new documentary following the retired pro's teaching career. It will be a good wind down for them, in comfy seats and the dark. It's hardly the sort of content an elementary school student would find riveting, but it is All Might. And they love him.

You hang back.

Shoto's heart is hammering in his chest.

"Hey."

"Hi," you greet back, closing the door to the theater and stepping forward as you weave your arms around you, "Long time no see."

"Yea," Shoto breathes, his hands in his pockets as he meets you halfway across the museum's marble floors, "I... I see you're teaching."

His eyes are as pretty as they were back then. Slate grey and piercing turquoise. "I'm in my second year," you confirm softly, fiddling with the material of your sweater, "Congrats to your old man."

You gesture up at the statue, then wave around to the rest of the installation.

Shoto inhales, then nods; he's staring at your face, blissfully realizing you're just the way you were all those years ago. Kind. "I'll pass it along."

"How's he handling it?" you ask, your eyes raking across his expression and trying not to stick to the sharp slope of his jaw, or the bob of his Adam's apple, "Retirement, I mean."

"He's happy, I think. Touya and I are working together and... things are... good."

Last month, Endeavor finally retired. He cited his age, and his dedication to passing his legacy to his two sons: Shoto and Touya. Shoto has planted himself firmly within the Top Ten in the last year or so, and shockingly, Touya isn't far behind. People love an underdog's redemption story, you suppose.

And the underdog in question can read a room.

This is getting a little too sexually tense for even him.

"Heeeeey, girl," he rasps out, staggering backward with a thumb over his shoulder, "Nice t' see ya. I'll let you two catch up, yea? I'm gonna go pop my head into the theater, see how the kids are handling the snooze fest on screen—"

You jump.

How long has he even been there?

"Hi, D— Touya," you strain, wincing a little; the rehab'd villain doesn't seem to mind.

"Hi, teach'. That cool with you?" he asks, wobbling his thumb and quirking a pierced eyebrow; it's comical, like he's trying to disarm you with humor, "Don't want you thinkin' I'm corrupting your youths—"

"It's fine," you breathe, ignoring the sting of age-old mistrust. You know better. Shoto wouldn't be here, with him, if Touya Todoroki hadn't changed. Endeavor wouldn't be entrusting his legacy to the ex-League of Villain member if he didn't believe in his capacity for good, "Just don't be disruptive."

Casting judgment on someone whose life was nearly destroyed by his own non-conforming quirk would go against everything you taught the kids anyway.

"Touya's whole thing is being disruptive," Shoto grits as his oldest brother slips silently through the doors, "I apologize for him—"

"No," you wave him off, laughing a little, "Don't. It's... nice to see you two together."

Shoto's expression is soft as he wanders a little closer. "It took time — and a lot of therapy — but we've all managed to come out the other side."

"That's great to hear, Shoto," you breathe, your eyes flitting across his face, "I'm really happy for you."

There's a long silence, then — and you can't help but ignore the roil of butterflies in your stomach. The eye contact is heavy with some unspoken thing, and both of your tongues are weighted by secrets-never-turned-confessions.

It's like finally this dance you've been doing around one another for years breaks — and the two of you throw caution to the wind at the exact same moment.

"Would you like to—"

"Are you free—"

Hesitant, slow grins bloom on both your faces.

"Dinner?" is all he manages after a sweet moment of soaking up your soft smile, "If you're available...?"

You make yourself available.

Yaoyorozu almost dies when you call her that night — winded from tearing through your entire wardrobe. You explained you had nothing to wear a-and you needed something nice, and you only have an hour to get ready, because Todoroki — yes, stop screaming, Todoroki — is picking you up at 8pm.

Little bro is nervous. Touya can tell.

From his spot on the sofa, the white-haired ex-degenerate scoffs. Natsuo is digging around for some cufflinks in Shoto's dresser.

"Seriously, Sho'? A suit?"

"It's a nice restaurant," his brother says tightly, adjusting the collar of the black button-down, "I booked the upstairs dining room for privacy."

"Who the hell told you t' do that?" Touya quirks a skeptical brow.

"Father was the one who suggested it."

"...That old dog."

Natsuo rolls his eyes at the exchange before throwing his hands as he emerges from the closet. "Do you have any links that aren't emblazoned with U.A. High School's crest?"

The ones in Natsuo's hands have his graduation year on them.

Shoto winces.

"Want me to ask dear ol' dog of a dad?" Touya snarks from the corner, his posture becoming less and less upright as he scrolls on his phone.

"Already did," comes the soft voice of Fuyumi; she's smiling, padding into Shoto's room with a velvet box, "He offered up his nicest pair. He also says not to screw it up with Insight. He likes her."

Of course, he likes her. You worked under Endeavor for a brief work-study period during your third year. Shoto remembers hearing grumbled praise over dinner one night about your talent for de-escalation.

"You told him who I was seeing?" Shoto asks incredulously, taking the box and working the cufflinks on. He's starting to feel exasperated.

Fuyumi nods, popping down beside Touya.

"He asked. I'm not gonna lie to him."

"Did y' tell ma?" Touya rasps, peeking up over his phone to inspect Shoto's outfit. Not half bad, honestly. He looks good in all black. A man after his own heart, "M'sure she's gonna be real excited—"

"Yes," Shoto grumbles, "I called her earlier—"

"Chiba Prep is a really good school, y'know," Natsuo buts in as he tries to find a tie that matches Shoto's outfit. Ultimately, though, the middle brother decides against it and tosses the options over his shoulder, "They're, like, on the leading edge for quirk therapies."

"Hey, nerd? Quiet down. The big kids are gossiping," Touya shirks, turning back to Shoto, "What did mum say?"

"She wants me to call her after—"

"One, you're gonna call mum the morning after," Touya raises a finger, "Because if you don't get laid, I'll be so fuckin' disap—"

Fuyumi slaps Touya's chest. He lets out a pained yelp at the solid smack.

"Uh, ow," he rubs his sternum. "An' two, take a deep breath. You look like you're gonna shit yourself. Those are my pants and they're expensive."

Shoto lets out a long breath.

Fuyumi's smile is sweet like honey. "Aw, Sho'! It's gonna go great. You two have known each other for such a long time, and catching up is going to be amazing. Just be yourself! Confident and kind—"

"—Hold the door open for her, and pull her chair out," Natsuo adds as he adjusts Shoto's collar for him, "Car door, too—"

It's Touya's turn. He's dead serious. "—And do not chicken out on kissing her at the end of the night. I swear to god."

Easier said than done.

You never did go pro.

Those years of hardened battle instincts have lost their edge. You try to remind yourself this is just Shoto, not The Shoto — but you're a little lost in the whole celebrity of it all when he picks you up in a very nice, sporty little car with ENDVRplates.

You answer the door and he forgets how to breathe.

He has flowers for you. They're blue and blooming and beautiful.

Fuyumi's contribution.

You settled then you were going to kiss him at the end of the night.

The restaurant is... nice. Really nice. The sort of nice you could never aspire to experience on your teacher's salary. Even the valet is a concept that has your head spinning. But, Shoto handles it all with cool ease. The entire time, his hand is settled on your lower back.

It feels like you've been lit on fire.

You're glad Momo was able to create a dress fitting for the occasion. It's sleek and black. Comfortable, too. Not much can be said for your heels on that front, but it's fine.

Somehow, Shoto managed to book the entire upper floor of this place in all its glimmering glory — it's just the two of you alone in a sea of tables.

The waiter is pouring you a glass of the chef's suggested pairing of sake.

You thank him, smile, and take a sip as Shoto unbuttons his suit jacket and watches you.

For a second, you're seventeen again.

Sero and Kirishima were always in cahoots when it came to parties back then — somehow, between the two of them, they always managed to smuggle enough booze onto campus to obliterate any semblance of promised sobriety from even the most stoic members of 1-A.

You remember one night, after a lot of hounding, you finally gave in and joined a few of your classmates on the back lawn for a few drinks.

A few beers turned into a cup or two of wine, and then another big gulp of whatever deranged jungle juice concoction Kaminiari managed to cook up. It tasted terrible, but you were too drunk to really care. Shoto was no better. He was nursing his fourth drink of the night — a rarity he was even drinking at all — and seemed completely fine with the way your arms brushed as the two of you sat close in the grass.

He was always so nervous around you. Now, he just seemed... happy.

"I can't believe there is only one week left until graduation."

Graduation day was the last time you saw him.

Until this morning, that is.

You smile into your drink.

"What?" you ask when his eyes never leave your face.

His fingers twitch towards his own glass. Shoto blinks, then rolls his jaw. He was caught staring. He clears his throat, looking a bit shy. "Nothing."

"Nothing?" you press playfully, cocking your head to the side.

"You..." he starts, then bawks. You're stunning, and it's making it hard to even think straight. He thought these feelings might have mellowed out over the years but seeing you again has just reignited everything. He feels like a hormonal teenager again, "You look beautiful."

Your expression falters into something lovesick. You chew your lip. "You're not so bad yourself, Todoroki."

He manages a half-smile. "Touya had me worried the suit was a bit much."

The idea of Touya offering him advice on his outfit strikes a chord in your heart. It makes you smile even bigger than before. "Well, you can tell Touya that I like it. A lot."

You rake your eyes up and down him. On purpose.

He notices.

Shoto's face feels hot.

He tries to shake the bone-deep want that has swept his entire body up in its grip, but it's difficult when every single word out of your mouth reminds him just how in love he was with you back in school. You explain, excitedly, why you chose to teach at Chiba Prefectural Prep and catch him up on where you've been living since graduating. He's pleased to learn you're still in the area, living in the city, and decidedly in love with the commute to the school.

Shoto's always been a good listener — but you can see how much he's changed when he begins to speak about his career. He seems so much more sure of himself than he was all those years ago. It wasn't that he was... unsure... but, no. He was shy. Quiet.

Now, less so.

It's adorable.

Dinner comes and goes with conversation over sushi that is far too good for you to even process. It's easy talking to him. It was easy talking to Shoto back, then, too but... Things are different. You're both different. Not in a bad way, but in a way that feels like coming home.

While you both wait outside for the valet, Shoto shrugs his jacket off and puts it over your shoulders without a single word. Suddenly, you're cradled in a warmth that's very Shoto — his cologne clings to the collar and you bury yourself a little deeper into it.

Shyly, you step closer and steal his hand. It's calloused and warm. He laced his fingers with yours as if practiced. You bite back a grin. You give his hand a little squeeze when you spot the car coming around the corner.

His silence is calming — and he squeezes your hand back. When you look up at him, you realize he's already looking at you.

His face is close. It's so... intimate. Very. Nearly better than a kiss.

But, you've wanted to kiss Shoto Todoroki since you were seventeen.

The valet driver interrupts the moment with a respectful call of Shoto's name and offers the keys with a shake of the hand. With a little bit of hesitancy, Shoto remembers the thing Natsuo said — the car door, too — and moves around the passenger side to open the door for you.

It's sweet.

Really sweet.

The car ride back to your apartment is punctuated with easy conversation — you ask him about Bakugo and Midorya, and you're pleased to hear they're both doing well. He asks about Momo, and if you still keep in touch with Mina and Ochaco. He smiles to himself when you admit you did call Momo for help with an outfit.

"She did a beautiful job," Shoto breathes, a palm moving from the gear shift to brush over the dress' fabric on your thigh.

His hand settles there.

Your stomach does a flip.

You chew your lip, swallow down a sudden burst of nerves, and let your hand rest over his. You squeeze it. Shoto tries to focus on the road. His gaze drifts for a moment at a red light, his heterochromatic eyes dancing across your figure.

Keep it together.

He isn't seventeen.

He's twenty-five. He's a Professional Hero. One of the Top Ten in all of Japan. He's more than capable of keeping it together in the face of physical touch from the woman he's dreamed about for years.

...Right?

Green light.

His hand is still on your thigh when he pulls up to your apartment.

The touch is relinquished in favor of putting the sports car in park.

It makes your chest ache.

Shoto swallows thickly.

Do not chicken out on kissing her at the end of the night.

He'll never forgive himself. But, admittedly, he's bad at this. He's not good at reading body language, or even knowing himself enough to realize he looks mildly terrified as you blink up at him in the passenger's seat. His heart is hammering a mile a minute.

What if you don't want to kiss him?

When would he even kiss you? Now? Or at the door?

Why does he feel like he's going to die?

"This was really... Shoto, are you okay?" you ask as you unbuckle your seatbelt; you pause, your brows knitting tightly.

"What?" he asks, blinking back to the present moment. The look of fear disappears, "Sorry. Yes. I'm fine."

You're working his jacket off your shoulders, gently leaning to fold it neatly in your lap. Your voice dips low, into something playful. "You didn't look fine..."

"I—" Shoto clamps his mouth shut as he leans an elbow on the center console, "Sorry. I suppose I'm just nervous."

"Nervous?" you grin, a little giggle punctuating your words as you wriggle in the red, leather seat, "Why?"

Your expression makes his expression crack. He ducks his head as he huffs out a laugh. You continue to egg him on via expression alone. "I... Stop it."

"Stop what?" you push some more, your back pressed to the door as you face him in the car, "You're the one being weird—"

"I'm not being weird—"

"Then what's wrong, Shoto?" you tease in a sing-song voice.

"I'm nervous because I want to kiss you."

His words are punctuated by a slow look that takes in every inch of your face. Butterfly wings kiss your stomach walls. And your knees. You feel a little tremble in your chest.

It feels like someone has sucker punched you square in the sternum. Shoto's no better. He isn't entirely sure what the expression on your face means. Is that... good? Are you happy?

Your voice is a little quieter now. You duck your head and fiddle with his suit jacket as you lean back against the seat, a little closer now.

"You don't need to be."

Shoto's breath catches at that.

So, he makes his move.

His hand comes first — his calloused palm settles nicely against your face, his thumb brushing your cheekbone as his pointer finger brushes the underside of your jaw. Shoto is slow. Methodical. It's like he's trying to ground himself in the moment.

Truth be told, he thinks he might be blacking out.

Your eyes flit up his wrist — a dark leather band around his wrist with an expensive watch face, a dark dress shirt with glimmering cufflinks, strong arms and a broad chest, and you can see the dip of his collarbone where the top two buttons of his shirt remain undone.

He looks so damn handsome with his sharp jaw, pretty eyes, and his trademark white and crimson hair. Even his scar is beautiful.

The touch pulls you in like he's got his own personal orbit.

Your elbows are braced along the center console, your eyes flicking across his face as his fingers continue to brush along the soft expanse of your cheek. You wring your fingers together.

Then, his eyes stick to your lips.

"Can I kiss you?" he whispers, his breath fanning across your face.

You never did go pro.

But, Shoto did.

It shows.

Because, at this moment, all you can do is nod feebly before you're swept into the sort of kiss people go to war for. It's the sort of kiss that sticks to your ribs, that feels like warm, fresh food. It's the sort of kiss that would drive you to the brink, that would make you nod and agree sure, let's get married and have three kids, let's name one after your father, and paint the house blue like your mother's favorite flower—

His mouth is eager, but not in an overbearing way. It's gentle. Slow. As if he needs to remind himself this is real and not some midnight fiction that leaves him aching and alone. Shoto reminds himself to be tepid, pliable, and easy, which is easier said than done when somewhere deep inside of him there's a seventeen-year-old screaming in victory.

It's better than anything he could have ever imagined.

And then you whimper.

It's a sound tied between bliss and relief and it's muttered against his mouth as you lean in and let your fingers brush the fabric of his dress shirt. The tips of your fingers brush his abdomen and he flexes, the feeling foreign and warm. It warrants his other hand to drift to your face and you break for a breath; he doesn't care that there's lipstick smeared across his mouth. He's kissing you again — this time a little bit more feverish, a little bit more aching.

You melt against him, this time your hands trembling to grip his wrists.

He needs to slow down.

He is not having sex with you in his father's car.

That's shameless.

He needs to slow down.

He has to, or he'll lose himself in this and he refuses to fuck this up.

Shoto's breath is ragged when he finally peels himself away, his lip parted and eyes half-lidded. His grip on your face is still so soft, so gentle. It's very him.

You're glad you didn't do this when you were seventeen.

It would have permanently altered your brain chemistry, you're sure of it. How could you ever kiss someone else again after that?

He's rubbing your cheek with his thumb. You swallow, and try to level out your breathing. It's hard when he's still so close, when he's so... perfect.

"I've wanted to do that," he murmurs against your cheek, "Since our last year at Yuei."

A well-kissed smile breaks across your face. You reel back, your nose wrinkling as you shake your head in disbelief. Shoto is smiling. A real smile. The sort that's so rare you can count on one hand the amount of times you've ever seen it in person.

"Are you serious?"

"Very," he says, chastely pressing another to your other cheek as he leans back.

"Me too," you admit shyly, "Can we... do it again sometime?"

Shoto's eyes widen incrementally. Then, his smile eases back onto his face.

"Are you free this weekend?"

"I can be," you reply easily with a honeyed look, "And I will be. For you."

"I get off patrol on Saturday around seven," he explains before asking timidly, "We could... do dinner again?"

"Works for me," you breathe as you move for the handle of the car door, "After all, I never went Pro. Weekends are free."

Shoto scoffs.

Then, as you open the door and swing a leg out:

"Oh, and tell Touya I thought the suit sexy."

Shoto's laugh is dry. You leave his jacket on the seat and scurry into your apartment with a lovesick wave. He swears he sees the silhouette of a familiar ponytail greet you at the door, but he doesn't dwell on it. He waits until you're inside and the lights to the front door are shut off.

Then it hits him. He has another date with you this weekend.

Not so seventeen anymore, Shoto Todoroki.

#todoroki x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #shoto todoroki x you #shoto todoroki imagine #mha imagine #bnha imagine #shoto x reader #shoto x y/n #touya todoroki #i LOOOOVE HERO TOUYA #HE IS SOOOOOO CUNTY

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simpjaes · 3 months ago

Text

CUNNILINGUIST ― s.jy (ft. p.sh)

Unfortunately for you, no man has ever given you some good head. Fortunately for you, your best friend is more annoyed by it than you are. It’s just a favor, right? or the one where your best friend jake eats you out as a way to admit his own feelings for you, also, apparently sunghoon existing is an issue.

minors dni! | kindly leave feedback and reblog to give bestie jake conflicting feelings

WORDCOUNT― 16.1 k

PAIRING― jake x afab reader (ft. sunghoon)

CONTENT― a lot of waiting, like to the point it even annoyed me, very fluffy stuff , typical best friends to fuck buddies to “actually, I had feelings this whole time”, jealousy, jake is whiny and needy when he’s horny, reader thinks it’s cute. angst if you’re a baby about it

OTHER CHARACTERS― sunghoon as the mutual friend who bangs reader

NOTE― this was originally written by me on my other blog [@/ncteez], if you’ve read it before, that’s why!

smut tags under cut::

smut tags― BIG DICKED BESTIE, pussy eating (he gets IN THERE), masturbation in the form of dry humping a mattress and then into his hand, finger fucking, cum eating, sunghoon hook up, morning sex, lazy fingering, lazy fuck, dirty talk , unprotected sex, awkward build up,raw grinding, no blowjob in sight sorry lmao, deep penetration, cream pie, kind of cum stuffing but like not entirely intentional, cheesy love stuff

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“What? Again?” Jake says, leaning back against the couch with a groan and a smack to his own forehead.

“Yeah, so basically he went down on me for less than a minute but expected me to, like, go long enough to ‘swallow’ or whatever.” You continue the story in a frustrated huff, shaking your head in self-pity.

Jake groans louder, leaning himself forward again and swiping his drink from your coffee table to take a long and thoughtful sip.

“How many times is that, then?” He says between sips, glancing around the room as if he’s in deep thought. “I can’t help but think you pick these kinds of guys on purpose at this point.”

You look at him in mock pain, grabbing his drink and taking your own thoughtful sip of it.

“I dunno, they always talk big game during phone sex and stuff. I figure eventually one of them will live up to it.” You drone on, internally marking your recent date’s name off of your call-back list.

“Be honest with me, have you ever actually gotten good head? Like how would you know if they’re bad if you have nothing good to compare them to?” Jake asks, letting you mindlessly drink his beverage.

It’s not weird to be having these types of conversations with him, if at all, something would seem off if you didn’t. He’s the only person in your life that you’ve ever felt this close to. At this point, you think he’d have to chase you down with a bloody hatchet for things to be awkward. Which is…kind of interesting, you guess.

“Well, I mean,” You think for a moment too long for his liking, but he gives you the space to finish your answer. “It feels good and all but it’s not like I’ve ever gotten off by it.”

“Correction –” Jake starts, blinking right at you. “You’ve never been given the chance to get off on it.” His bright smile shows through his words, and you’re sure he’s mocking you at this point.

“Yeah, yeah. Yada, yada. I have terrible taste in sexual partners but to be fair, it’s not like the pool is that big to choose from.”

He nods in agreement, humming as if to end the conversation and still watching you sip at his drink.

“Would you be opposed to–” He pauses, making eye contact with you. “Y’know, I could do it for you.”

You pause, nearly dropping his drink out of your hand but thankfully your grip actually tightens on it instead. You swallow as you look at him, searching his face to see if this is some kind of joke.

“Jae-fucking-yun,” You deadpan, sitting his cup back down on your coffee table and leaning toward him, staring him down. “You’d really do that, for me?”

You bat your eyelashes at him, mostly playing it off as a half-joke just to see if he’s fucking with you or not.

“How else are you gonna experience it?”

You stare him down harder.

“You say that like you’re some sort of pussy-eating-god,” You narrow your eyes. “Are you?”

He shrugs casually with his little smile, leaning back on your couch and stretching his arms out. One of his hands lands behind your shoulder and you lean into it.

“I’d let you be the judge of that if you’re up for it.”

Finally, you decide that he’s definitely not joking and you’re definitely gonna do it because like, that’s your best friend. Experiencing your firsts with him comes almost as naturally as walking. You had your first kiss with him, albeit it was a dare. You experienced your first concert with him, your first break up, your first failed exam, and even your first legal drink in a club. What’s so bad about letting him eat you out?

“Right now?” You ask, quirking your brow and tilting your head.

“Now, tomorrow, next week. Whenever.” He runs his hands through his hair as he says it and only now are you starting to really tune into his features that you’ve already found handsome.

Day after day you’ve seen him on this couch and in other states of dress without really thinking twice about how his lips would feel on you (despite that short first kiss). You’ve seen him kissing all up on other people, you’ve seen him in the club with wet lips from alcohol, you’ve seen him all messy and eating spaghetti at his parent’s house– but for some reason, his lips seem different now. His sleepy eyes seem different, his messy hair seems like something that should be tugged on, his fucking jawline–

“Why’re you staring at me like that?” He looks at you up and down as if he’s judging. “You wanna go right now?”

You nod slowly, letting the traces of any lusty thoughts you’ve had about him in your life come to the front in waves. Then you quickly shake your head.

“Wait, no,” You roll your eyes more at yourself than him. “I haven’t showered since my date, maybe I should, uh…”

“Uh – yeah. Please do.” He grimaces, that same dopey smile coming back after a moment.

“Fair.” You roll your eyes. “Gonna go shower then.”

Part of you wonders if like, he’s being totally legit. For all you know, you’ll get out of the shower and he’ll be too busy doing something else, or like, he’ll go home or something. No hurt in seeing though.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

In the bathroom, you can’t help the feeling in your chest at even the thought that this may be about to happen.

Excitement. That’s what you feel. Not because it’s Jake. Well, maybe a little bit because you wanna see what his tongue is all about but more so because you’re about to get some presumably good head.

You shower thoughtfully, cleaning every part of your body and feeling little goosebumps rise and fall with each sensation of your air conditioning snaking its way past your shower doors. When you get out, you lotion your body so you’re all nice and soft and brush your teeth just in case things go a little further. You’re not expecting it to, but y’know, nothing wrong with having fun if it comes to it.

After all, he’s doing you a favor by going down on you, the least you can do is smell good, be soft, and totally prepared for if he were to suggest more, right? Right. Anyway, you’re all showered up and opt to just let your hair do its own thing as you throw on your shirt and shorts. You ignore the panties at this point, because why not?

When you get back to the living room, Jake isn’t there. Naturally, you check your bedroom and there he is, still his normal self and lounging against your headboard while flipping through videos on his phone.

“And she’s back,” he comments, reaching a hand out as if to invite you to your own bed. “Change your mind yet?”

“Not even for a second,” you smile as you take a spot in front of him, your entire body facing him as you pull your knees up and lay your chin against your arms. “Have you?”

He seems to fall into a more serious tone now, locking his phone before tossing it to the side and flicking his eyes up to look at you, scanning your legs in the shorts.

“No,” he chokes back, shocked to see straight between the gap of your shorts and actually lay eyes on the point of this whole situation for the first time. “And you’re not wearing anything under those shorts.”

You watch his face and the way it turns from your best friend into something you’ve seen time and time again from men you’ve gone home with. It’s sexy on him though, for some reason.

“Figured I’d save you the trouble?”

He smiles, now moving himself toward you and reaching a hand behind to cradle your head.

“Lay back,” he says softly, in a voice you’ve only heard a few times from him, “you could have left the shorts off too though.” He adds with an even softer laugh.

For some reason, it makes you feel shy. His hand guiding you to lay back all while grabbing the pillow from behind him and placing it under your head so that you’re nice and comfortable. You watch him look at you and honestly, it’s in a way you can’t remember him ever looking at you before. If this is how he looks at other women, you may be a little jealous.

It feels more intense right now than you thought it would.

“You’re being weird.” You say offhandedly, looking away from him and trying to keep the heat from flushing to your cheeks.

“You’re letting me eat you out, how am I being weird?” He leans up from you, putting two hands on your knees but still waiting for your eyes to meet his again. “You want me to act like the other dudes? Dip my tongue in then wrap it up?”

You groan, rolling your eyes back to him and analyzing the way his big hands drape over your knees.

“Okay, fair.” You admit defeat, feeling his warm palms move down the back of your thighs and to your ass.

“Lift up,” He says, quickly pulling the shorts off of you when you do as he asks.

“Oh–” He gasps quietly. “Damn.”

He stares directly between your legs, bracing his hands back at your knees and spreading your legs a bit. He angles his head in different ways to really look at you, seemingly enamored with your pussy as a whole.

“Look who’s staring now.” You chuckle, instinctively hiding your face from him despite knowing he isn’t looking up at you.

“Yeah– I am,” he admits, now adjusting himself on the bed to lay down, his head easily slotting between your legs as he rests his chin on your lower belly and looks up at you. “You can pull my hair or do whatever, I’m just gonna…like, start I guess. Tell me if it’s something you don’t like.”

As normal as this isn’t, he’s speaking similar to how the two of you had taken on projects before. He typically takes the lead but offers you control more often than not. All you can do is nod at him, trying to comprehend that it’s your best friend’s head between your legs right now.

When he pulls his head back up with one last nod of confirmation, the first thing you feel is his fingers slipping up your folds, the other braced on your thigh and holding your legs open. You release a short sigh of relief at the feeling and he instantly smirks at it.

“I haven’t even started yet,” He whispers, glancing up at you before fixing his eyes back on the expanse of your pussy. He uses his ring and pointer finger to spread your lips open, and the middle finger to rub against your hole only for a brief moment before he licks his lips and releases his own sigh of relief. “God, Sunghoon would be so jealous right now.”

You look down at him, wanting to ask him what the fuck he’s talking about and why he’d bring up Sunghoon right now, but you find yourself staring at him instead. Breath caught in your throat with the way his eyes meet yours before letting his tongue hang from his mouth as if presenting it to you in a cheeky way.

He’s so fast with it too, with the way he replaces his middle finger with his tensed tongue, forcing you to swallow your words and hold your breath even more. You can feel him lick and nibble against each of your lips before moving inward, flattening his tongue to lick one long, languid, and wet stripe up until meeting your clit.

He wraps his lips around it, sucking once, hard, before releasing it and pulling back to look at you.

“This okay?”

Goddamn him for making you have to talk right now. You’re still trying to comprehend the fact that he said Sunghoon, fucking Sunghoon of all people would be jealous that he’s doing this right now. That’s definitely a question for later, because yeah, it’s fucking okay.

More than okay.

You nod to him, throwing your arm over your eyes and instinctively bucking your hips up towards his hovering mouth.

“Oh, that was hot,” He groans out his compliment, watching the way you hide your face before he pulls his eyes back down and uses his fingers to spread your pussy open wider, enough to see your hole pulsate when he dips down to blow against it, “I can see how wet you’re getting, Is it because of me or is it just because someone is playing with your pussy?”

You half groan half moan at that, mostly because hearing these words from him is something that feels entirely too sexual. As if he hasn’t already tasted you, as if you’re not spread out by his fingers right now. You ignore his words, yet, your brain holds onto them with white knuckles and your hips buck toward him again.

“Not a talker, got it.” He notes, watching your hips chase his breath.

He watches for much longer than you’d like for him to, and you’re about to lift up and accuse him of being just like the other guys but he shuts your thoughts off so fucking fast when you feel his lips on you again.

His tongue explores every part of you, licking and sucking against areas you didn’t even know would feel good until his mouth lands against your clit again. This time, you can’t help it, you grind up and he hums at it as he braces your legs open just enough to skew his head and move his tongue back down.

He’s slurping. Lost in the moment as he does it. Tasting you in full and getting a warm, pleasant feeling each time your legs try to close and your hips buck up for more. He…can’t believe this is finally happening. Fucking finally.

Unsure if you’d let him, he tries anyway. He stiffens his tongue, circling your hole before pressing just a bit, giving you just enough pressure that you feel frustrated. So frustrated that you’re the one who ends up finishing his attempt at something new. You reach down and lace your fingers in his hair, and let out a soft, needy little moan for him.

That sound forces one from his chest too, he can’t help it, really. With the way you’re grabbing his hair and holding his head in place, pressing yourself against his mouth so much harder than before. Ah, he really, really loves doing this for you.

To think any man would already be done? To think anyone could like, not wanna eat you out? Insanity. Stupid, stupid fucking men.

He can taste how wet you are now, truly taste it as he stretches your hole as much as he can with his tongue and another groan of his own. It’s probably embarrassing, truly, but he doesn’t care.

Both of you are moaning at this point as you hold his head in place and grind your hips harder than you think you are. He loves it, you love it. So much that you really are barely comprehending that your best friend could do this the whole time?! And never told you until now?!

Jake is just as drunk on the moment as you are though. Totally lost in the scent and taste of you as he continues to lap away, constantly trying to prove that you can and will get off from his mouth alone. And honestly? It’s at the point that he figures he can use his fingers now too considering you let him spread you open with his tongue. What’s a little more gonna hurt, anyway?

The taste of you alone has him in heaven, cursing any man who didn’t take advantage of your pussy against their mouth. He can easily slip a finger into a hole this wet and needy, gasping in awe before glancing up at you.

God, the way you immediately ride his finger, no huff or sound of irritation that he’s pulled his tongue back now. Your face. Fuck.

He watches as you shamelessly chase the small amount of pleasure he can offer in terms of just head and fingering. He can imagine how hot you’d be without that shirt on, with your legs around his hips, with your mouth wrapped around him. You look blissed out, soaking his finger and keeping your hand in his hair, mindlessly grabbing and scratching at him.

Making quick work, he goes back for your clit, circling his tongue around the bundle of nerves and noticing how you ride his finger harder. He can’t help but smirk against you when you do it either.

The movement of your hips constantly humping against him is enough, and he can’t help but groan at the sound of your slick squelching out of you and warming his chin, he can’t fucking help but grind his own hips forward when you act like this. His cock is so painfully hard for you right now, at the taste of you, that all he can do is chase the mattress beneath him. Tensing his muscles and moaning against your clit shamelessly at the jolts of pleasure he gets from it.

He slips another finger in with ease, feeling how much wetter you’ve gotten in the way the slide is filthy and audible. You groan out at that too, feeling his tongue flick relentlessly against your clit and only now moving your free hand from your face and trailing to your stomach.

You can’t even talk, so you don’t. You lift your shirt up until you can at least rub against your nipples, just to heighten the pleasure your best friend is so graciously giving you.

His eyes roll back when you do that, only to fall back on you and get a frustrated grunt from him. He’s a bit annoyed that the shirt is still covering you despite your hand under it, fondling yourself. He’s thinking with his cock, so fucking aroused that he doesn’t think twice when he aggressively lifts your shirt up to your chin and watches the way your fingers poke and prod at yourself.

He inhales a sharp breath at the image, and his hips fuck harder against the mattress at that. His fingers speed up and now he’s focused. You feel him all over you from the waist down, his tongue flicking and lips sucking against your swollen clit, his fingers relentlessly fucking into you, your fingers heightening those sensations by playing with your own tits– then, oh, then you notice.

Jake, you’re best fucking friend, is so goddamn horny that he’s dry humping against your bed and whining out moans against your clit. Probably to avoid asking for more, to avoid making you feel obligated to get him off too, to avoid anything you may not want or consent to. And that’s why he’s your best friend.

It doesn’t take long after that, your hips come to a stop as you watch him get himself off all while getting you off, and you find your orgasm bubbling up much faster than if you’d have imagined solely because of the image in front of you.

“Jake, you’re fucking whining.” You groan almost as needy as he does, rolling your hips up in a stutter.

He was almost gonna stop, because yeah, he is whining. Gasping for air but only tasting you, only swallowing up the moans you give to him, only inhaling the dull scent of the fruity soap you used when you showered. But, you moan louder after you say that. You like it. You like seeing him act so desperate. So he continues, shamefully reaching one of his hands between himself and the bed and quickly shoving it down his pants, circling around his cock and continuing to fuck into it.

If he thinks hard enough, you’re what he’s fucking right now, and technically, he is. With his fingers and mouth at least. When your hips stutter more, he fucks harder against his hand and holds his fingers inside of you as deep as he can get them. There, he sucks against your clit until you’re the one whining louder.

You’re shocked at how quickly you’re getting off. Releasing a splash against him in a breathy, choked up sob. Nearly squeezing his head between your thighs to the point he almost misses the way you breathe out strings of praises toward him. But he hears them.

He definitely heard you say that he looks sexy with your hand in his hair, and god, did he ride off of the fact that you encouraged him to get off with you. Regardless of if you knew if he could or not, regardless of if you knew his hand was providing just enough pleasure for him to do just that.

There, as your orgasm subsides with his tongue still flicking your sensitive clit, you watch him writhe his hips against your mattress, his eyes slammed shut, and his breath coming out in pornographic moans. So this is what Jake looks like when he cums. It’s desperate, but somehow, it feels passionate too.

You’re all dazed after the fact, pussy pulsing and tingling from the loss of his lips and fingers once he pulls back and lays against your bed with a lazy smile. His pants are uncomfortable, but he doesn’t mind as he wipes his hand across his shirt and watches the way you catch your breath.

“So,” He tries to say, clearing his throat. “I– um– hope that’s what you needed?”

You’re shy. You’re never fucking shy, especially towards Jake, but god.

“Um, yeah,” you sigh out, lifting from the bed and looking back at him. Part of you wondering if that’s what it’s supposed to be like when someone gives you good head, or if that’s just…what it’s like when Jake gives head.

For some reason, you genuinely don’t think another man would ever eat you out to that level again. There’s no way, based on experience.

“It was definitely what I needed.”

He nods in a shy way, reminding himself that his pants are fucking nasty right now. So, he goes to stand up and extends a hand out to you.

“Let’s go clean up.”

You shake your head, not at all wanting to move from this bed. He nods again, pulling your shirt back down for you and leaning to look at you.

“I’m gonna bring you something to clean up with, and I’m gonna shower.”

You smile at him, a bit dazed as you make yourself comfortable on your messy sheets as you think hard about the fact that this dopey motherfucker really never told you how good he was at this? Rude.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Jake looks all proud of himself when he comes back to your room and cuddles into bed with you much like he always has.

“I didn’t expect to sleep over, I have work in the morning.” He whispers in a rasp against your back, curling around you like the perfect big spoon.

You’re quick to turn on his work alarm on your phone, like you always do when he crashes during weeknights. Because, what best friend doesn’t have alarms set for each other anyway?

After a few more long moments of silence, you try to talk. Mostly because your brain is swimming with the fact that, like, you’re not sure but it’s just– wow.

“Hey, um–”

“Hmm?” He hums out in a sleep-heavy voice.

“Did you actually enjoy doing that?”

“Are you fucking kidding me? I literally came in my pants.” His sudden louder voice causes you to jump, but you relax back into his gasp.

“Oh,” You think hard. “Is this gonna change stuff between us?”

“Probably, but not in like, a bad way. More like in the can-i-eat-you-out-all-the-time-way.” He responds with mock-confidence, shifting a bit and hugging you closer to him, as if to hide the way he’s trying to make this sound like a joke. For his own comfort, really.

You smile.

“And don’t tell other dudes my secrets.” He adds.

“I won't.”

Jake has his own smile from behind you, wondering if he really is just that good at eating pussy. The truth is, he’s done it a handful of times but he was just really really interested in doing it for you. For…reasons.

・・・・・・THIS WAS ORIGINALLY TWO PARTS, NOW IT’S ONE. YOU’RE WELCOME・・・・・・

“Hey, um,”

“Hmm?” Jake hummed out in a sleep-heavy voice.

“Did you actually enjoy doing that for me?”

“Are you fucking kidding me? I literally came in my pants.” He responded in a sudden, louder voice.

“Oh,” You think hard. “Is this gonna change stuff between us?”

“Probably, but not in like, a bad way. More like in the can-i-eat-you-out-all-the-time-way.”

You remember the conversation that happened after he went down on you like it was yesterday, and he’s a goddamn liar. Nothing changed in your friendship with him, and he certainly doesn’t ask to eat you out all the time either. If anything, you’ve felt disappointed time and time again with the aftermath of that night.

It’s weighing on you in a strange way. At first, the weeks following the first and apparently, only time Jake went down on you, you almost expected him to ask for a repeat. You wanted to return the favor. You wanted him to ask but he never did. Even when he came over to hang out, even when you tried to lay down hints.

Nothing changed.

In fact, he doesn’t even talk about it. He doesn’t look at you as if he’s tasted you, and he doesn’t act like he came in his palm against your bed, right in front of you. He’s just…Jake. Sweet, caring, aloof, Jake. And you’re just you. Except you want to be someone else at this point. Someone that he does feel differently around after that.

Maybe you weren’t a memorable event for him when it comes to intimacy. Maybe he prefers to pretend it never happened? Maybe he was really just doing you a favor and intending for it to never go past the initial act. Even with his sweet words after the fact. Maybe, that was just to reassure you so it wouldn’t be awkward.

You’re a version of you who wants to know what the fuck he’s thinking about. Did it taste bad? Did he get cold feet about it all? Arguably, if things did get weird after what happened, you’d feel more comfortable than you do with the situation as it stands.

It is weird now, but only because it’s not weird for him.

Even now, as you lay across the same bed where he had his head nestled between your legs, you can almost feel the tingle of what it felt like. The way his hair tickled your thighs, and the way his fingers laid against the flesh of your legs. The sun is beaming in through your windows and it still doesn’t feel as warm as it did when he cuddled against you that night. It’s been weeks and your heart is sick for him by this point. Sick with confusion, angst, lust, maybe even love if you think hard enough.

You miss him a lot more than before as you throw your hand up to your face in a gentle slap as if to knock yourself out of it. This is insane. Every day you wake up feeling this way, thinking of him, and where you stand with him. It wasn’t like this at first, you truly expected him to come back for more and now you’re just sitting here with a loop of reasons as to why he never did.

Insane. You’ve gotten head from so many people and didn’t think twice about them the next day, Jake is different though. You knew he would be too.

Why is Jake any different? Why do you miss him so badly right now? Why couldn’t he pick up on it either? Even worse, why do you feel like doing that with him was a mistake?

He’s with his parents for the weekend, and you’re here still thinking about shit that should have been released with your orgasm.

You haven’t gone on any dates since that day, you haven’t met up with any one other than him to hang out, and at this point you’re starting to feel a little pathetic for falling in so deep. It’s entirely one sided, he makes that very clear.

So, naturally, you hop up with the confidence of a damn lion and decide that today, it ends. You will stop making it weird between the two of you, if he has even noticed anyway. You’re gonna get dressed, look hot as fuck, and sit on your couch swiping left and right until you find a hot piece of man that’s willing to take you out tonight.

That’s when something dawns on you. You remember Jake briefly mentioning Sunghoon to you, which seemed more like an implication if anything at the time.

Why would Sunghoon be jealous of what happened? You can admit to being attracted to him but it’s not like the two of you hang out often or anything, and it’s also kind of a rule for yourself that you don’t fuck within the friendgroup. Jake was an exception, solely because that’s your best friend. Or, well, was your best friend.

Now though? Who cares about these little rules you create for yourself? You need a confidence boost. You need your mind to be taken off of this little spiral you keep falling into. Most of all, you need to be proven wrong that you can still get off without it being him.

So, texting Sunghoon? Easy.

Thankfully, Sunghoon texting you back at lightning speed seemed even easier for him.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Well, Sunghoon sure did a great job at getting your mind off of Jake for the past couple of hours.

You lay here in his bed, feeling your body tingle from the sensation of just how well he lived up to the promise of a good time. For hours he touched you, licked against you, fucked you. And yeah, you did fucking enjoy it.

But why now? Why did you only just decide to give Sunghoon a shot? Why are you lying in his bed, with his heavy arms thrown across you as he snores gently behind you, feeling the need to cry? Why do you wish it was Jake, your best friend who seemed so eager to please and then suddenly leaped ten feet back as if he never suggested it in the first place?

Your brain is confused despite your body relaxing itself from the state of bliss you were able to experience. You really did enjoy this time with Sunghoon and think that maybe, if you continue to make late night visits to him, the need for your best friend will weaken in time.

God, if only Jake would just talk about it.

And you fall asleep thinking about that. About how you’ve let your feelings weaken you to the point that it’s genuinely hard to enjoy being pleasured by someone who actually has the capability.

And, well, you wake up much the same, except Sunghoon was quite quick with his fingers upon waking up himself. Showing you that even if the person you want doesn’t have a thing to do with you, he sure does.

“Good morning,” He rasps in a sleepy voice, fingers already traveling down your stomach as he hugs up against you from behind. “Glad you finally came through for me.”

You quirk a brow. Right, Jake is the whole reason you're here. If not for mentioning him, at least.

“I finally came through?” You chuckle, your body jolting at the ticklish sensation of his lips brushing the back of your neck. “You knew I was single, why didn’t you call me?”

You feel a harsher kiss against your neck, and his fingers only travel further down now.

“Bro code.” He whispers, dipping his fingers between your still naked thighs. “I’m not overstepping if you’re the one asking for it.” He slides his fingers gently back and forth between your legs, trying to work you up. “And you did.”

You think hard about that. Bro code, overstepping limits, not coming onto someone unless they do first solely because someone must have asked him not to. And you’d think even harder about who that someone might be, but instead your brain is quickly thrown into the morning sex routine Sunghoon must offer to all of his lovers.

You enjoy it too, the small moments of bliss where you’re not in your head about what you could have possibly done wrong with Jake for you to end up feeling this way. It’s a brief moment of numbness though, feeling his fingers pleasure you gently can only do so much to quiet your thoughts.

“Are you saying one of your friends had dibs on me or something?” You laugh in a half-joke, arching your back to rub your ass up and against the bigger and warmer man behind you.

“You could say that, I’m assuming he missed his chance though–” Sunghoon whispers snidely, now satisfied with how you already drip for him and sliding one of his fingers into you. His other hand, being used to hike one of your legs up and against his hip to open you up for him. “You wouldn’t be here doing this if he didn’t.”

You clench around his finger unintentionally, pretending you don’t know who you’re both referring to. Mostly because there’s no way in hell it’s your best friend, seeing as how he’s acting like you don’t exist outside of platonic friendship with him. Then again, who else could it be? Jay? Heeseung? Fucking Jungwon? As fucking if.

“I guess he did miss his chance–” You breathe, now allowing yourself to give into the lazy and slow pleasure being offered. “Deeper.”

And he listens. Sunghoon goes deeper and deeper with one finger, then two, then three, up until you slip his fingers out of you and plead through your body to have more. Deeper still, holding you from behind, plunging in as if to intentionally fuck the confusion out of you. As if to, maybe, prove that Jake isn’t the only man who can please you now.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

When you eventually find yourself walking through your front door, you do feel better. Sunghoon did have some type of capability to make you feel as desired as Jake did. After all, it’s not often that you sleep over with a man, better yet get fucked again as soon as you wake up with him.

Even so, you know Jake will be back tomorrow, wanting to hang out yet again as if nothing happened. Thankfully, with Sunghoon around, maybe you can pretend alongside him. Maybe even forget it ever happened.

You can argue that for the first time, you’re even a bit annoyed when you see his name pop up in your notifications with a call as if you’re not right in the middle of texting Sunghoon. It’s not that you were trying to go back over to his house or anything, but man, he sure is trying to get you to come back for a third round already.

Maybe you just like when people are eager to please you, or maybe you don’t like to feel as if you’re the one chasing another person. Still, you answer Jake, seemingly releasing all of this resentment you’ve built up for him in an instant.

“What?” You huff into the phone, feeling it vibrate with another text from Sunghoon and wanting nothing more than to see what his fourth reason would be for you to come over not even two hours after you left.

“What?” Jake responds in confusion to you. “What do you mean ‘what’?”

“I mean what do you want? I’m busy.” You huff again with a roll of your eyes, flopping back on your bed.

“Oh god, something happened.” Jake groans, though he was simply calling you because he missed your voice. “What’s wrong?”

“No, not really. Was just trying to figure out what I’m doing tonight when you rudely interrupted me.”

Something is off, Jake can feel it. Your voice has a bite to it, one that feels like you’re mad at him. Not to mention, he knows what you mean when you say you’re trying to find something to do for the night. He tries to reserve his feelings though, despite wanting that something to be him.

“Oh, I know there’s an event at one of the clubs downtown tonight I think. Jay mentioned it–” He pauses briefly to hear another annoyed breath from you. “You’re not gonna go with him?”

“Nah,” You wave off dismissively. “I think I’m just gonna go hang out with Sunghoon.”

You don’t notice at all the brief and panicked silence for a solid second and a half before Jake reacts.

“Wait, what?” He says quickly after managing to process those words, trying not to sound as panicked as he knows he feels. “Sunghoon? Why?!”

God, he knew he shouldn’t have said anything about Sunghoon that day, but his confidence was overflowing and he couldn’t help but boast at the time. It’s come back to shoot him in the dick, knowing full well that Sunghoon has been trying to get you into bed since he fucking met you. Hearing you ask for him in this context is something that makes his blood run cold.

“Relax, I was with him last night. It’s kind of like, maybe gonna be a normal thing now.”

You refuse to pick up on Jake’s tone. He had all the time in the world to make you feel something other than confusion, and this is just fucking petty at this point. He clearly doesn’t want to have anything with you, so why in the hell should you just sit around hoping? Waiting?

“Sunghoon? You want to fuck Sunghoon?” He asks in a lower tone, trying to convince himself that he has to be mishearing you. You can hear him shuffle around and close a door behind him, showing that he doesn’t want his parents to hear him. But the frustration showing blatantly in his voice is somehow…satisfying.

“I already did. I figured he would show me a good time since no one else can, and he did.” You shrug with slight disobedience. Resentment bubbling up in your gut to the extent that you almost want to grill him for having any type of opinion about it.

Jake hangs on those words for a second. “Since no one else can.”

He really thought he was the one who could do it for you.

“Yeah, but–” Jake starts, feeling like a child almost in the way he protests despite not being in a position to have a say in who you sleep with. “You know what? Nevermind. Do what you want.” He adds blankly, hanging up before you can get another word in.

Honestly, he doesn’t know what he’s doing wrong because you acted like he was fully capable of doing everything right. Hanging out with him consistently after the fact, not making it weird, flirting with him, asking him to sleep over.

He wasn’t sure if he should ask you for more or if he should ask you to be his girlfriend first. The whole reason he’s with his parents right now is because he felt the need to run home to his Mom for girl advice. Embarrassing? Yes, but he really wanted to do things right. He cares about you.

He needed just one single weekend away, and the second he’s gone you’re out fucking other dudes? Fucking Sunghoon?

By now, that asshole is probably feeling like he’s on top of the world for getting to touch you. Not even he has done what Sunghoon managed to do with you by now and he can’t help but feel pissed about it.

Whether you’re his or not, Sunghoon never should have been a fucking option.

So, he calls you right back, pushing back the feeling of how pathetic it seems considering he’s the one who hung up on you. Then, when you don’t pick up, he immediately feels his stomach drop.

You must be talking to Sunghoon, you must be setting up a time and place to meet with him. And Jake has heard that Sunghoon knows how to fuck. Other people have said he’s good in bed. Surely, if you’ve already been with him once and you’re still wanting to go back to him, those other people weren’t lying.

To Jake, it feels like he’s losing you to his own friend with each passing second, and it’s weighing so heavy that spamming your phone with calls to interrupt whatever it is you’re doing right now feels like the right thing to do. In fact, it feels like it is the best thing in the world to do.

He calls again. You don’t answer.

Again.

“What?!” You answer, annoyed.

“Why would you even want Sunghoon?! Is he really that much better than I am?” He doesn’t think before he says it, because if he did, he wouldn’t have been able to say it at all.

It’s his turn to experience that awkward silence because in all fairness, you don’t know how to respond to that. You feel annoyed now, you feel confused and quite frankly, blind sided. Since when did he care?

“What’s that supposed to mean? You came onto me once and then never followed up.” You dead-pan at yourself in the mirror across your bedroom, speaking into the phone with a voice that seems scolding. “I don’t see why you’re mad that I’m hanging out with Sunghoon. We aren’t dating, Jake.”

“Since when? Who said I didn’t want to do it again?” Jake argues back in a whispered voice, showing you that he still can’t be as loud as he’d like to be. He chooses to ignore that last sentence though, pretending as if it doesn’t strike him in the center of the heart.

“Nobody! That’s the thing, you haven’t said anything about it. Not that you want to, not that you don’t. You’re just being you and it’s driving me up a fucking wall.”

Pause.

“You’re mad because I didn’t make it weird?” It’s like his brain clicks.

“Pretending it didn’t happen somehow makes it worse.” You lower your voice, ignoring the string of texts Sunghoon is sending you and listening closely to what Jake might say next. Your heart is racing through this hushed argument, and it feels good to admit that you kept thinking about it, even if he hasn’t.

“I wasn’t pretending that it didn’t happen,” He pinches the bridge of his nose with a sigh. “I just wasn't sure what the next step was.”

You’re fucking appalled.

“Jake, I have been flirting with you since it happened because I couldn’t stop thinking about it. You’re the one who didn’t make any moves, so I figured you wanted it to end there.” You sigh loudly, but somehow feel a bit lighter. “Do you have any idea how that fucked with my confidence?”

Jake sighs along with you on the other end of the line.

“That’s why I was annoyed earlier, and that’s why I’m going to Sunghoon’s tonight.”

“What?” Jake’s voice raises a bit higher. “Still?!”

It’s the fact that he’s trying to explain himself. Had he known that you were confused by his lack of, um, touching you, he would have done it every day since it happened! Yet, you’re still considering Sunghoon an option? Knife to the heart, honestly.

Or maybe he’s not being clear enough with you about this.

You, on the other hand, nod your head as you hum a confirmation to him, smiling and wondering if this conversation will turn into an event that would, perhaps, have you cancel the hook-up with Sunghoon.

“Why? Are you jealous?” You pry.

“You really called him, and now I’m just sitting here in my old room trying to find a way to get to you before he does….again.” An inhale. “ Yes! I’m fucking jealous!”

You remain silent, trying to pretend that your pettiness isn’t solely to confirm what he seems to be implying to you. Then, an unintentional chuckle leaves your lips.

“Why are you laughing?!” His voice is raised again, and he doesn’t seem to stop spilling what he needs to say. “I wanted to do that for you for years and you somehow still didn’t know?” He pauses. “I always made it weird between us, what? You thought I treated all of my friends like that?”

You just listen, feeling your heart beat in time with each word he speaks. Strings of sentences like, “I’m going to kick his ass.” and “You thought I’d just eat you out as a friend?! You’re insane.” and “I would have come home last night if you wanted to feel good so badly, why did you have to go see him, of all people?”

The confirmation of Jake being the friend who forbade Sunghoon from making a move on you is right there, clear as day.

“Ah, so the Jake I know isn’t the Jake everyone else knows?” You respond, trying to force the tingling feeling in your gut to calm itself. Hearing him be so blatant to you has your heart doing flips, and it’s not an easy task to make it stop.

“Of-fucking-course not!” He rolls his eyes, you can definitely tell. “You had me wrapped around your pinky from day one.”

“And you really thought that, with the way you seemed so uninterested–” You pause, processing his words. “I would have asked you to come home from your parent’s house to get me off? For what? Funsies? You thought I'd be brave enough or selfish enough to ask such a thing?”

Jake sighs deeply, seemingly fed up with the situation.

“It wouldn’t be because you are selfish.” He breathes out, almost angrily. “And for the last time, I’m not uninterested. I was just trying to do things right. I don’t just want to fuck you, you know.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me until weeks after you ate me out?” You smile harder, trying to contain the heat flushing over your cheeks. “Until after I thought I had a pH imbalance and maybe you were just grossed out by me?!”

“I’m genuinely shocked you didn’t know already. Made me think you weren’t interested enough to like–” He pauses, not wanting to be too telling. “I guess waiting and being polite isn’t really your style. I should have known that though.”

You let him continue, because you can tell he’s simply taking breaths and small pauses to figure out how to express his thoughts to you.

“You can’t tell me that over the years, you never once noticed how often I stared at you.” He lowers his voice again, softening it to an extent that you actually feel the butterflies fly from your belly to your chest.

”The fact that I jumped in head first and offered to do that for you? I didn’t think I had to tell you at this point…”He breathes out a chuckle through the line this time. “And for the record, I couldn’t get enough of it. I was just trying to like– I don’t know.”

You listen to him breathe deeply, again.

“I didn’t want you to think I was in it just for the sex, I guess.”

There. There it is. You’re nearly kicking your feet, feeling him confirm feelings and erase any hint of doubt within you. Despite never truly noticing that he treats you differently compared to his other friends, despite never thinking too hard about the way he looks at you.

“You acted like it wasn’t a big deal, Jake. I’m not joking. If that’s how you act when you like someone, you shouldn’t blame me for not noticing.”

“I literally tongue fucked you.” He dead-pans. “Friends don’t just do that.”

“I thought we were friends who could do that.” You argue. “But I guess you’re not quite looking to just remain friends, are you?”

“No,” Jake sighs. “Mom told me I needed to take you out on some extravagant date and express my undying love for you with a handful of red roses, but I guess this is just how it’s gonna be. After all, this is you.”

“And this is you.” You confirm.

“I was going to come home tomorrow and try to lie our way to the restaurant, which I still can, if you want. You kind of fucked up my plan though.”

You pause at his words, suddenly feeling like shit for not realizing sooner. In your defense though, if he really did like you from day one, you didn’t exactly have a chance to see how he would have acted without feelings. The Jake you know is your best friend, and someone you trusted with everything, you thought he treated everyone as well as he treated you. That’s why, when he didn’t change, you couldn’t read him anymore.

Then again, all of this could have been fucking avoided if he had just voiced it to you.

“Romance is dead and it’s your fault.” Jake tries to joke, his soft tone somehow coming out even softer as he waits for some type of response from you.

“So, are we done fighting?” You ask meekly, tapping your finger against your phone and looking up at the ceiling with a smile that by now, you can’t escape. “Since you’ve just expressed your undying love for me and I very much wouldn’t mind going on a date with you so we can work this out face to face?”

“Are you still going to fuck Sunghoon?”

You laugh.

“Oh yeah, for sure–” To his silence, you immediately take it back. “Oh my god, relax. It’s a joke.”

“Get better jokes, asshole.”

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“What the fuck?” Jake deadpans into the phone, his heart beating far too fast for his health, but vibing with it anyway because by tomorrow night, he’ll be next to you again. “You seriously had sex with her?!”

“Hey, she’s the one who called me.” Sunghoon shrugs as he listens. “To be fair, Jake, I did tell her that someone else had dibs on her.”

Jake slaps his forehead and rolls his eyes.

“You’re such a dick– I told you at least three hundred times that I like her! I don’t have dibs.” He gripes, trying to pretend that he’s not imagining Sunghoon with you, the person he wants the most.

“Damn right you don’t, because she seemed to have a great t–”

“Sunghoon, stop. I don’t want to know what happened, but like, stop texting her.”

Sunghoon’s brow raises in curiosity.

“Ah, did you finally make a move?”

If there’s anything Jake knows Sunghoon won’t do, it’s go for a woman that is actually unavailable. He has his fun, and he’s not one to turn anyone down if he has an interest in them, bro code be damned. And yeah, he’s still a little pissed at him for hooking up with you…but, it is true, Jake made you feel like he wasn’t even an option in his attempts to be a gentleman.

Still, boundaries need to be set now. Real boundaries.

“I did, and I would really appreciate it if you back off. I’m trying to make something out of this, you know?”

Sunghoon lightens up, sighing at his loss of a would be fuck-buddy that seemed more promising than some he’s had in the past.

“Jesus, you’re serious about her aren’t you?” He smirks as he speaks, feeling proud of Jake for finally stepping up for himself. “I mean, I can totally see why. Please excuse me as I mourn that sweet, sweet, pu-”

“Sunghoon.” Jake warns. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Relax, jesus.” Sunghoon plays it cool, though he actually is mourning it a little bit. “Good on you though. I’ll back off, don’t worry.”

Jake rolls his eyes yet again, his love-hate relationship with Sunghoon becoming more fond than ever by this point. Only because the confidence he had in himself before all of this wasn’t entirely where it needed to be. It’s true that he wasn’t exactly a pussy eating god before, nor could he even say he’s amazing at sex but, when it comes to you, he can’t help but be excited. He wants to do it all, be it all for you.

Never in his life has he eaten pussy like that, and never in your life have you felt a mouth so eager to please between your legs.

Sunghoon could have been something, but he couldn’t have been Jake, ever.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

The day couldn’t go by any slower than it already has.

Jake comes home tonight, and by home, you mean to your apartment where he doesn’t live.

Your mind goes in loops on what could possibly happen. Scenarios of him getting cold feet and ignoring that any of this happened at all again. Scenes of him unlocking your door, closing in on you, and kissing you before you can even say “hello”. Images of his hands on you, his mouth on you, what it would feel like if he were to…well, oh.

You snap yourself out of it, every bad scenario in your head gets replaced with one where you’ve got Jake working himself on and inside of you. It’s making you feel hot, insane, and entirely too horny for the proposed date night full of talking that needs to be had first.

Then you freeze, your hand on the handle of your mug as you wonder a bit too hard.

What if he doesn’t show up at all?

You did run off the second he left the city and fuck one of your mutual friends. Arguably, you were equally as bad at communicating with him as he was to you during the past few weeks. Sure, you flirted, but was that even enough when he literally put his tongue inside of you “as a friend”?

God, he’d have every right to not show up. To move on, to never speak to you again.

You’ve been so stupid. Both of you have, stumbling together but apart into something neither of you could even begin to navigate. For you? Sex is easy. Feelings though? That’s where it gets complicated. Yet, still, you find yourself more willing than ever to let these feelings roam free if he accepts them at face value.

Solely because of how shitty it felt when you were trying to pretend that Jake was nothing but a one time thing for his sake.

And when the time comes, after hours of brooding, getting worked up, and feeling insane, you’re looking like a mess when he knocks on your door. So much for looking good for him. You’re an absolute fucking wreck when you open that door and dead-pan stare at him and his bags.

“Hi,” He smiles, not quite making eye contact because he really is kind of embarrassed by all of this. “I’m here.”

You step back from the door, eyes remaining on him.

“You’re here.” You say quietly, watching him step into your apartment and drop his bags.

You feel his breath before you hear his voice. So much closer than just moments before, right up against your ear, and his arms wrapping tightly around you.

“Felt like I was gone for too long–” He whines slightly against you, breathing in a breath and taking in your scent. “Didn’t know I could miss you like that.”

You fucking melt. Out of all of those scenarios and fantasies in your head, this wasn’t one of them. Which goes to show that Jake is the one person in this world who can surprise you time and time again. You’ve hugged him like this hundreds of times, but this one, oh this one. He feels so close after feeling so fucking far away.

“You were gone for two days,” You smile, nuzzling against him and gripping his waist in your own hug.

“Two days too long, though.” You feel him smile, that little upturn of his lips pushing his cheek up and against you as he chuckles and pulls back. “We don’t have a lot of time, but we can still make it to the restaurant if you still want to go? I can shower when we get back.”

You pull back, offering him a small nod and feeling a bit let down. You wanted more, especially after that hug. The fact that he can contain himself right now feels isolating. Are you the only one who has a vibrating brain right now? He really wants to have the conversation at the restaurant?

He really wants to do this the right way?

You look like shit, but arguably he might think he looks worse considering the long trip back to you. Still, the restaurant is the chosen option to have this conversation, and you’re ready to get it over with so that finally the two of you can take a step forward.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

The restaurant is nice. There’s a buzz of conversations surrounding the two of you but most of it feels muffled because the only sound you can truly hear is Jake’s hushed and awkward attempts to get the ball rolling.

“So, I guess that’s why I went to my parent’s house. It’s embarrassing, I know–” He says before you cut him off.

“Tell me how you felt the past few weeks when we were together.” You say boldly, wanting so badly to have the confirmation that he really does want this, and that he suffered much like you did.

You watch a fan of rosy tint cross his cheeks as he breaks eye contact with you, looking to the table and then back up at you.

“Okay, um–” He stiffens a bit, glancing around to make sure no one is looking or listening in. “When we weren’t together, it was a lot easier for me to think, but when we were together, I could only really think about one thing.” He admits, nodding to himself.

You look at him curiously before you see his eyes light up in panic.

“No! No, no. Not like, sex…” He looks down. “I mean, yeah maybe sex too but mostly I just couldn’t stop thinking about ways to make you want me more than anyone else.”

Your heart swells at his panicked save, and then the words that follow.

“I think I already did want you more than anyone else.” You admit back to him. “Even if I didn’t know I had feelings until you did that to me– I’m sorry it took me so long to realize.”

He smiles, reaching over the table as if to ask for your hand.

“What about you? What did you think about when we were together after that night?” He asks for his own confirmation now.

“Sex. Mostly, I guess. I felt like no one else would ever be able to make me feel that good again.” You look away, feeling ashamed and seen. “Goddamn, I sound so dramatic.”

Jake snorts, laughing at how he should have expected this but the confidence boost is a happy surprise to him.

“To be fair though, Jake, I think I had my feelings and my lust for you mixed up.” You continue. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I still feel both of those things every time I see you, or even think of you.”

“Feelings and lust?” He nods with a smile and wiggling his eyebrows, his eyes glistening in the warm lighting of the restaurant.

You nod in confirmation, side eyeing the waitress who walks over to take down your order.

Both of you are somehow dissociated outside of each other, there’s no way you’re not because you don’t recall what you ordered, nor what he ordered, and he appears to be feeling much the same. The moment she walks away, he’s continuing.

“I was really that good, huh?” A smirk from him, and a nod from you.

“What about right now then? How do you feel when you look at me?” He follows up, looking down at the table.

“Both of those things.” You dead-pan, squeezing your legs together as you look at him and feel the warmth radiating from even this far away. The confirmation of feelings is enough by itself to have your thoughts in the gutter about him, especially after weeks of wanting him.

Especially after having to be in this stupid fucking restaurant in the first place.

He quirks a brow before lowering his voice, his eyes drooping a bit.

“Do you have any fucking idea how badly I’ve wanted to get my mouth on you?”

God, there he is. That same bold best friend who originally suggested eating you out in the first place. Not entirely unfounded that he said it, but fuck, your cheeks are searing.

“Jake, we’re in public.” You warn, knowing damn well that you’ve not been able to think of anything else either, but for the sake of the foundation of this relationship, you want to tame yourself a little bit.

“Since we started hanging out, every fucking time.” He continues, ignoring your warning. “I would get so mad when you’d go to your little hook-ups. Sometimes I even wondered if you did it intentionally to piss me off.”

Your cheeks are still hot, but now there’s a bit of guilt filling you.

“You really had no idea how badly I wanted that to be me?” He continues with his streak of confidence, unintentionally dirty talking to you solely because he, genuinely, cannot deny his attraction or his feelings for you by this point. “Even right now, I want nothing more than to have you to myself.”

You pause, the guilt leaving you in an instant as it’s fully replaced with Jake’s eagerness to have you in full, finally.

“Why–” You sigh, dropping your head into your hands to hide your face from him. “Why are we at this restaurant again?”

You feel his hand reach back over to you, removing your hands from your face and dipping down to look at you.

“It’s so fucking hard to contain myself right now. I can admit that.” He whispers, blinking at you. “If you feel satisfied with where we stand, I’d be more than happy to leave this table now and prove everything to you.”

An instant nod from you, and an instant confirmation from Jake.

You’re both out of the restaurant before a single sip of water, before a single visual inspection of the forgotten food the two of you ordered, and before any doubt could creep in to ruin the electrifying atmosphere you were indulging in with him.

For Jake, his self control wavers with each passing moment as you sit next to him in the car. You look so calm as he drives as quickly and safely as possible back to your apartment, shaming himself for ever considering the two of you go in the first place. Still, the outcome is somehow more satisfying. Both of you wanting to leave just so you can truly be alone together? He couldn’t ask for a better night.

Still, your calmness contrasts the way his insides vibrate the closer he gets to your place, and he wonders how the fuck you manage to do it. If you were to simply glance at him at the right moment, you’d see his entire body melt in the fantasies of what the two of you may be willing to do tonight.

Years worth of pining in his head and heart are bubbling up now. You’re inviting him in, you’re accepting him, you’re wanting him back.

What he doesn’t know though, is that you are quite literally imagining yourself wrapped in chains to this seat. Why? Because if it weren’t for those astral chains, you’d be on top of him in an instant, reassuring him that if there’s anything in the world you’ve wanted within the past few weeks, it’s him. You’d be apologizing for never taking note of his feelings before, and kissing away all of the moments he wished he could have had with you before, replacing them with very real, firm, hot kisses.

Thankfully though, you manage to tame the beast from within and somehow, so does he. Up until you get through your apartment door and the electrifying atmosphere sizzles away in an instant.

You expected to have the confidence to, quite literally, jump on him as soon as your door closed. Instead, you find yourself standing in awe at the entryway.

Jake, on the other hand, would love nothing more than to have you right this moment, speeding and parking crooked be damned, he will not allow it just yet.

“Listen,” He reaches out to you, pulling you up and against his chest. “I need to shower before I let myself do anything.”

You breathe a sigh of relief, noting that the awkwardness came from the fact that Jake’s energy is seeping out of him, lust and worry for possibly not being as clean as he’d like to be for this.

It feels strange, actually. You can imagine you’ve had many hook-ups with men who wouldn’t even consider a shower before inviting you over.

“Hurry up then, before I decide to call Sungh-”

“Don’t you fucking dare make that joke right now,” Jake squeezes you tighter against you, hating himself for constantly bringing up reasons to wait.

“If we are going to like,” He pauses, struggling to say it out of pure nervousness that you might change your mind. “You know, be exclusive, Sunghoon’s name is forbidden.”

You chuckle against him before shoving him back in a playful way.

“Deal. Now, can you fucking hurry?” You roll your eyes playfully, internally a little thankful for the short moments you will have to prepare yourself for this.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Damn this shower for feeling so good. Jake could fall asleep under the warmth if it weren’t for the fact that he’s been half-hard this entire time and truly fighting with himself on how to approach this situation.

It’s kind of awkward, actually. Knowing exactly what the two of you are about to do but having to wait even for fifteen minutes makes it seem like you both have a scheduled hook up and nothing more.

It’s not a hook up though. Jake is finally where he’s always wanted to be with you, in your shower priming his body to go absolutely fucking insane on you. Before, when he ate you out, he really was controlling himself. He wanted to do more with you so bad, and now? God…

He’s flushed as he finally makes his way out of the shower, length still stiffening and softening with each thought that passes. He can barely look at himself in the mirror without wanting to laugh at how embarrassing he truly is.

You’d probably laugh too, and he’d love the sound of it.

Then, he’s faced with a dilemma.

You, on the other hand, find yourself lying quietly in your bedroom after doing your best to fix the mess of yourself for whatever Jake may offer. Waiting for him, and ultimately wondering what the fuck is taking him so long when you finally hear the bathroom door open.

Faintly, you can smell your shampoo and body wash that he used as you hear him make his way to the living room and not find you.

Then, you hear him making his way to your room. He doesn’t open the door any further than it already was and instead, stands behind it quietly before muttering out.

“Um,” He starts, putting his hand on your door and only peeking his head in. “I wasn’t sure if there was a point to putting my clothes on–”

Fucking pause.

God, he must sound so stupid saying that, especially after looking into your room and seeing you lying against your bed changed into the exact same pajamas you put on the night he initially made a move on you through the guise of friendship.

Well, now it’s not even a question and he was right to assume that all he needed to do was wrap a towel around his waist and come to you.

You watch his eyes travel your body curiously, a smile forming on his face.

“If you’re wondering if I put panties on this time too,” You smile, reaching a hand out as if to invite him to open that door and come have at it. “I didn’t.”

That’s all it takes, really, to have him pushing the door open and not-so-calmly making his way to your bed.

Seeing his naked and damp chest is one thing, but smelling your scent all over him is another, especially when the first thing he does is practically envelop you with his body and plant his lips straight on your own.

The first real kiss. Despite his lips having been on you before, you melt into it and find yourself forgetting how differently he’s acting now compared to before. He was so confident, so cocky, and now he’s almost docile. Meek.

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” He leans back to whisper, adjusting his body so that he’s more comfortable and leaning down on one arm while the other holds your cheek. “Can’t believe you let me eat you out before ever letting me actually kiss you.”

Your face heats up at the comment, making you feel more scandalous than you ever truly tried to be. But he’s not wrong, and you regret making him feel like eating you out was the only way to get to your heart.

Strangely though, it was the way to your heart. Him doing that for you practically threw you into the deep end in search for more, from him, specifically.

“Can’t believe you decided that you should just eat me out rather than admit your feelings for me.” You counter with a smile, lifting your head to kiss against him again and pretending you can’t feel the weight of his length under the loosely knotted towel on his waist.

“Well, it worked, didn’t it?” He says through the kisses, quickly losing the ability to speak when you lick against his bottom lip and, ultimately, take control of the act.

He wonders what your mouth could do to him. His entire body reacts to the way your tongue flicks and licks against his own, it takes everything in him to try and control himself from pushing too far too soon– until he realizes that there is no reason to control himself now.

Never has making out gotten him this turned on, and it’s not a surprise because it’s you.

He half moans, half chuckles into your kiss when he does it, pressing his hips down and against your thigh much like he did previously to the very mattress he’s got you lying against.

“There’s so much I want to do,” He finally admits, pulling back from the kiss and hanging his head to feel how his cock reacts to the flesh of your thigh. “Please, let me do all of it.”

You sigh, somehow feeling a pang of arousal radiate between your legs despite not yet being touched there. The weight of him on you is enough, and all you can do is nod and await the ways he intends to relieve himself with you.

Hours of head, he could give. Even more hours of burying his cock between those pretty lips and watching you return the favor for him. His confidence grows as your body moves under him, waiting, waiting, waiting for what he will do next.

First, he plants another kiss to you, pressing his hips hard against your thigh with a breathy sigh before moving his lips down, against your neck.

At the same time, his hands work their way up your loose shirt, cupping one breast in his palm and easily teasing your nipple with his fingers. He works his lips down the center of your clothed chest, down to your stomach, and then up again. His nose nudges your shirt up with each kiss, until his lips replace his fingers and he’s sucking your nipple into his mouth.

You’ve never felt so wanted in your life with the way he appears to be savoring you. Leaving his own pleasure neglected once again, his entire focus is on you. You arch your back up a bit, hands shooting to his head and cradling it there against your breast.

He groans when you scratch against the nape of his neck, wiggling your hips under him and chasing the sensation that his mouth manages to send to your clit. He groans again when your nipple remains firm between his lips, and he begins to nibble.

And this time, he moans when he manages to trail one of his hands down just to see how much it will take of this to get you wet. He tucks one hand under your shorts, only to find that you’re already dripping, soaking his fingers with a mere single slide up your folds.

“Fuck,” He sighs as if it’s a compliment when he pops his mouth off of you, flicking his head up to look at your already dazed eyes. “Already?”

You glance away, embarrassed by how badly you want the man who was once your best friend, and is now….more than that. You can feel his fingers graze and gently play around with the heat your body has already released for him, rolling your eyes back each time he pretends he’s going to offer pressure to your clit.

He’s fucking teasing you, and you know it.

He knows it too, because of fucking course he is. After years of torture, wondering if you’d ever manage to get wet at all with the thought of him, here you are, dripping under him when all he’s done is kiss you and fondle your nipples.

Briefly, he remembers how needy your hips were when his tongue was seeping into you. He remembers the taste of each thrust you pressed against his face, and the smell of how badly you needed him at the time.

As used as he was by you that night, he wants nothing more now than to pull those same desperate moans from you, to taste the wet inside of you that no man ever managed to release for you.

“I feel like I’m going insane,” He finally breathes out, still toying with your folds and keeping an eye on the way your eyes glare back at him. “I want you so fucking bad–” He stutters now, instantly sliding his fingers into you and scooting down on the bed at lightening speed, pressing your loose shorts to the side just to get the taste of you against his lips again.

Your legs instantly shoot over his shoulders, and one of his hands reaches up to hug your thigh against him as his tongue immediately laps at every dip and crease of your cunt. His eyes nearly roll back at being able to experience this again, his fingers holding firm without a single movement just so he can feel your body confirm that you want him just as much.

The clench around his fingers are enough, and he licks around them only for a moment before returning his lips to your clit and giving you all he’s got.

All he can feel is your legs tightening around his head, nearly lifting your ass up and off of the bed, all he can hear is his own moans vibrating through him each time he hears you react.

Arguably, even after that brief moment of teasing from him, feeling his mouth so eager, much like before, sent you straight into a blissed state and made you forget about the restaurant, the shower, the weeks of pining before this. His mouth is so warm, and his vibrating moans sooth your clit through its desperate attempts to beg for more.

You can’t help the fact that your legs hug his head, or the way your hands shoot down much like before, scratching through his hair before dropping down and spreading yourself open with two fingers solely to expose your clit in full to the assault of his tongue he’s giving you.

He missed you so much, he missed this so much. Never again will he leave you wondering, from this point forward, you should be well aware that if you so much as pushed him to his knees and lifted a leg over his shoulder, he’d be eating like a fucking king.

Still, even with his immense love for kissing your pussy until your legs shake, there’s more to be experienced here than just this. His pace slows with the reality of that, and only now does he move his fingers with intent, and he pulls back to see how you’re spreading yourself for him, even as your legs fall from his shoulders.

“Fuck.” He rasps, lips glistening with a mixture of his own saliva and your slick.

You lend him a drunken smile, nodding slowly as you focus in on the way his fingers scissor you open. Within a blink though, his face is right there hovering above you, staring intently at the way you react to his fingers.

“You look so good right now, you know that?” He compliments, leaning down again to plant a kiss against you, only pumping his fingers in faster when your kiss appears to be more hungry than his own. “God, I can feel you squeeze my fingers–”

And it’s true, he’s seeing stars solely because he can feel the clench of your pussy walls pushing his two fingers together, almost pushing against his attempts to scissor you open and curl them into the spot inside he knows you have. He can only imagine how good that would feel if he were to…

His eyes squeeze shut in a drawn out moan at the thought, his own kiss growing more hungry as he releases the towel from his waist and quickens the pace of his fingers inside of you.

You can feel him press his cock against you, and the weight of it only becomes heavier when his fingers pause inside of you just so he can slip them out and use those same slick-coated digits to hold his length down and against you before he slides it between your lips. Now coating himself in the same wet sensation.

You listen closely to his moan, knowing that he seems fond of neglecting his own pleasure to the point of doing near-embarrassing things to get it back when he needs it the most. It’s strangled, almost. You can hear him swallow around it when he slides up harshly, bumping your clit and causing your shorts to stretch against the crease of your thigh.

He seems so…desperate. Yet, he can have anything he wants.

“Keep it spread open–” He mutters when he feels you try to remove the hand that had been holding your pussy out on display for him. “I want to feel all of it.”

God, you’ve never heard him say something so sexy. Easily you do as he says, now using both hands to hold either side of your pussy open for him, and feeling the underside of his length slide against your hole.

You let out a pleased sigh, despite your shorts becoming a nuisance at this point. It’s easy to forget you’re still wearing them though, because they only become drenched more and more as the moments pass with Jake.

You can genuinely just assume that his cock must be aching as he does this, leaking all over you. That’s something you don’t mind at all, because the stimulation is far beyond what you could ever ask for.

“Jake–” You try to speak, only to be cut off by his hand sliding under your head and his lips attaching yet again to you.

There, you can’t help it when you remove your hands and shoot them up to his face. Holding him there, feeling the way his jaw moves when he licks into your mouth in a desperate attempt to get as much of you as he can in this moment.

His hips fuck forward much like they did into his palm all those weeks ago, and the anticipation of if or when he finally plunges it into you drives you to kiss him just as hard as he does you.

There is nothing but the sound of kissing in the room save for muffled moans from both of you, entirely tangled up together as he does nothing more than grind himself against you. His hand cradling your head and the other still pressing his length down and against you as close as he can manage. Yours, cupping his cheeks as he kisses you, up until you run one hand down to take over for him.

In that moment, with his free and now shaking hand, he pulls back entirely and just looks at you.

He’s out of it, entirely gone from this world as he stares down with his hair drying by the minute from that shower, messy as all hell with darkened hooded eyes. He continues to stare, each thrust against you becoming pointed to the extent that it almost feels like he’s already fucked you for hours.

And then, you feel it. The weight lifting, your shorts being stretched until they’re sliding down your thighs and off of you, and then the warmth as he adjusts his hips just barely enough to line up with your quivering hole, practically begging for him to stretch you out for the first time.

His eyes falter only for a moment when he realizes that this is a moment he will never forget. The way you look up at him with glassy and needy eyes, out of breath, seemingly loving him as much as he’s always loved you.

“Yeah?” He whispers, not breaking eye contact even for a moment.

“Please.” You mutter out, not fully intending for it to sound so broken.

And as broken as your voice was in that instance, he grows much weaker by it. Dropping his head with a deep sigh, a smile, and then a chuckle.

“You really, really, can’t look at me like that and expect me to be gentle…” He pauses to look at you again. “For your sake, please tell me to slow down.”

You can barely comprehend a word he’s saying when you can feel the head of his cock teasing where you need it the most.

“Please.” You rasp out again, wrapping your legs around his waist and forcing his body forward, ultimately sliding the tip of his length into you yourself.

“Oh, fuck–” He chokes out before sucking in a breath and letting out a moan at the feeling. His body jerks at the sensation, the sound of your voice, the way you pulse around him. “Fuck, so good.” He continues to mutter, controlling himself for only a few seconds longer just to see if you have the ability to understand that he truly and honestly will not have the ability to go easy on you at this point.

“Deeper.” You plead, squeezing your legs tighter around him, uncaring of his attempt to control the situation.

That’s all it takes. Your broken voice already had him shaking, and now he’s giving up any and all control that he could have possibly hoped to have.

Right there, with your legs hugging his waist, your hands gripping the pillow behind your head, and his hands finding purchase on either side of your shoulders, he sinks himself into you as deep as he can go and feels as if the life is being choked out of him over how fucking good it feels.

He throws his head back in an erotic and attractive moan of relief, allowing you a glimpse at the expanse of his stretched neck, naked of any marked territory. Still, your vision goes white when the stretch hits you.

So big, so strong on top of you. You can imagine he really could fuck you hard, you hope he doesn’t go gentle on you at all, actually

“Shit, please,” You moan brokenly again, releasing your pillow and gripping his forearms. “Jake, god–” You have no words to describe how good he feels inside of you, you couldn’t begin to fathom trying to explain to him how perfect he is.

It feels deep, deeper than you ever could have imagined. His length alone should have been enough to tell you that, but you hadn’t yet factored in the girth of it. So heavy inside of you, touching each soft and sensitive surface your pussy has to offer.

Your body jolts in adjustment, knocking the breath out of you despite him not moving just yet.

“Shh–” He soothes, not at all actually wanting to hush your cries for him. In fact, he’s simply saying it because he could quite literally release at any moment if you continue to speak and clench him like this. And when he finally looks down at you, he can’t fucking help it.

His hips move at their own volition, and he was right in believing there is no gentle fuck to be had here. He slides out only slightly, with the intent to fuck you as full of him as he can. He wants to stay deep, because you asked, and he wants to keep you feeling stretched around him because he can truly never get over the way you look and sound right now.

You shake at the feeling of him pressing impossibly deeper into you, keeping his hips flush against you before snapping his hips back more now. A slightly empty feeling inside of you being filled once again within a second.

His moans sound beautiful, he feels beautiful, and all you can do is stare up at him with watery eyes and a slack jaw, wondering why it took him so long to do this with you.

Wondering why it took you so long to want it at all, when now, you think you could never feel this good with another person again.

His arms flex in your grasp with each thrust, and his eyes land on each visible part of your body before he weakens his stance and lowers himself to you, hips still fucking you open at a pace that’s only becoming more and more rapid, more and more fucking blinding.

“Yeah, yeah–” Jake suddenly chimes with out of breath words, kissing you before you can comprehend or respond to those words. “No one has ever reacted like this for me–” He continues, pointing his thrusts harder into you. “Feels so good, so tight around me.” He chokes up at the last few words, stuttering his and picking up a different pace.

This time, those harsh thrusts pull back further, emptying you before slowly pressing into you again.

“I want you to remember how this feels,” He continues, seemingly rambling against your lips with each slow thrust. “No one will ever fuck you like I will.”

Your hooded eyes shoot open with arousal at his confident boasting. Those words feel so final, as if it isn’t even a rule, but a logical fact that only the two of you could ever find to be true.

You can’t even manage a response, and instead moan before tucking your lips up and against his neck, using one hand to grip his hair and skew his head.

That once naked and markless neck is no more. He is yours, and you’re lucky enough now to know that this is exactly how he wants you to feel.

“Ahh, you like that?” He questions your reaction to his words, feeling your hips make attempts to meet him halfway with each thrust. “You like when I talk?” He continues to urge your sucking lips to speak out to him, to answer him, to boost his ego just a bit more.

“So much,” You nearly whimper against his neck, moving your lips to another spot. “Love when you’re confident like this–”

He’s in heaven hearing those words. As if it’s a confirmation that he wasn’t just talking dirty. You both truly take those words and will fuck by them from this point forward. He truly doesn’t want anyone else, and hopefully, you’d never give another person the chance to make an attempt to fuck you the way he does.

And then the room falls silent again, as if Jake is focused on reminding you with each passing second that he’s never been more sure or right of something in his life. Despite you already believing him, the way his cock pulses inside of you is enough of a reminder even if he had never said it in the first place.

His pace quickens again, and then slows, and then stutters. Only to fall back into a good rhythm before his entire body starts to shake through the act.

You wonder if this is it. Is this how his body reacts when he’s about to cum? Is this what his face looks like? Is this what his eyes do? Did his arms strain like this the first time? Did his moans come out as choked and desperate?

None of that matters, because as quickly as it started, he buries himself into you again and stays in that one spot, shaking and timidly looking down at you.

“Don’t move, please, don’t move.” He practically begs, losing himself to the way your hips chase the feeling of constant stimulation. “Stop moving.” He pleads again, pulling his chest from you and sitting up on his knees, keeping his cock in place deep within you.

You watch him, unable to keep your hips still, and he watches you– trying to keep his orgasm under control before seeing your fingers trail down your stomach and to your clit.

There, he loses himself, watching you rub the soft spot just above where his cock stuffs you full.

“I can’t,” He chokes out, snapping his hips back and allowing himself to get lost in the feeling. “Fuck, I really can’t.” He continues to mutter out, pressing his strings of cum ever deeper inside of you as he feels every muscle in his body tense.

It feels so sensitive, but he can’t stop moving, feeling his cum fill you up to the point it’s surely being pressed out of you by his desperate length wanting nothing more than to stay inside of you.

You moan through it with him, encouraging him to lose himself inside of you, and he’s so beautiful when he does it. The fact that he does it at all has your body tensing on its own. Teetering on the edge of your own orgasm with the way your fingers almost aggressively chase after the feeling he appears to still be releasing inside of you.

And then, emptiness. You are left empty and dripping, fingers still chasing your release before–

“What the fu–” You moan, squeezing your eyes shut at the feeling of his tongue instantly back on you. As if he’s looping back to the beginning of it all, uncaring of tasting himself solely because through it all, he can still taste you. “Jake, Fuck–yes, right there.” You continue to groan when he replaces his tongue against your hole with his fingers, fucking into you as quickly as he can before nudging your fingers away and taking over the chase of your orgasm.

You’re entirely amazed by how eager he is to pull it from you, and that alone is enough. The desperate ways in which he decided to pleasure you right in this moment, it’s enough.

Your hands instantly reach for his hair, gripping so tightly that you can hear the pained sound he lets out at the sheer force behind it. You very nearly rub his nose in the mess he’s made of you out of the sheer arousal you feel through your orgasm.

You’re seeing white, feeling his fingers expertly work you open and somehow don’t feel disappointed at all that you didn’t get there before he pulled out of you. You can still feel him dripping out, fingers squelching and sliding through the mixture of both orgasms inside of you. And his tongue, good lord his fucking tongue, licking up every bit and eagerly flicking your clit at a pace much faster than he offered before.

And now, you find your legs nearly kicking him across the room. As soon as the orgasm subsides, your body goes into overdrive with the overwhelming sensitivity between your legs and all he can do is laugh at the way you practically do kick him.

Right off the bed, actually, he tumbles.

You lay there, staring into space as you attempt to bring yourself back to reality when you see his messy hair and glistening eyes peek from the edge of your bed at you. His shoulders huffing with each deep breath he takes.

“Jesus fucking christ.” You manage to gasp out, spread eagle and almost completely naked on your bed save for the forgotten shirt that’s still pushed up to your collarbone.

He makes his way back up to you, pressing your legs together, lowering your shirt, and planting his heavy dead-weight right on top of you.

A solid ten minutes pass as the two of you lay there in the mess you’ve both created. Heavy breaths turn to easy, balanced breaths together. You can barely hold your eyes open when he finally rolls off of you and right up against your side.

“Can I ask you something?” He mutters, throat dry and stomach growling embarrassingly loud.

“Hm?” You hum out, entirely ready to just sleep in the mess.

“Are you always like that?” He questions, a little hint of doubt breaking his confidence. “Like, did Sunghoon see you act like that too?”

You crack your eyes open and instantly turn to face him.

“You’re insane if you think Sunghoon is that good. I’ve never used the word ‘please’ in my life.”

Jake glances away, thinking to himself and letting those words sink in.

“Well,” He starts, pausing and feeling that little pit in his stomach return. “That’s a lie because I’ve heard you use your manners at least twice in the years I’ve known you.”

You smile, loving that the two of you can still be somewhat catty and playful even after the fact that you just realized how insanely in love with him you are.

“Jake, no one has ever made me act like this in bed.” You try to reassure him. “I don’t think anyone else could, besides you.”

He smiles with a nod, running his hands down your body before pausing at the half dried cum that managed to make its way up to your stomach. And then? He groans.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

It’s insane really, that all it took for you to fall in love with the person you think you were always meant to love was him admitting it. Even more insane that he decided to take the route that involved faux playful head, with no feelings attached despite his feelings being deeply fucking attached.

Still, the route taken to get to this point, he thinks, is fitting for the two of you. Especially now that he can look at Sunghoon without wanting to strangle him, and he can look at you knowing you’d very much invite him to strangle you, you know, considering the fact that you’re now trying to explore every sexual realm in the fucking universe with him.

Even with the desperate need to have you under him any chance he gets, and the fucking, and the arousal, none of it shines brighter than the small intimate moments he has with you that aren’t weighed down by pining or lust.

As playful as the two of you are together, there is so much love here. So much love to still be discovered too, and he can’t help but feel excited by it.

Romance isn’t dead, despite how the two of you tried to fucking butcher it.

#enhypen smut #sim jaeyun smut #jake sim smut #jake smut #enha smut #sunghoon smut #park sunghoon smut

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021894s · 3 months ago

Text

TANGLED DESIRES- p.sh

PAIRING: enemy!sunghoon x f!reader

SYNOPSIS: At a prestigious private school, you and Park Sunghoon are locked in a constant rivalry. During a party at your friend Karina’s, a heated argument between you two escalates into an unexpected, passionate encounter. The next morning, you wake up in his arms, forcing both of you to confront the new, complicated tension between you. As you navigate the fallout and shifting feelings, you start to question if your biggest enemy might actually be something much more.

GENRE: enemies to lovers, rich kids au

WARNINGS: smut (unprotected sex, oral sex) rivalry, hurt feelings, angst. ALL ARE OF AGE

wc: 15.4k

You attend the most prestigious school in Korea, where the sky-high tuition fees are only accessible to those born into pure wealth. This elite institution is a playground for the richest families, and your name is synonymous with success. Your family, being the owners of one of Korea’s top corporations, you seem to have everything at your fingertips—a glamorous life of luxury, an enviable social circle, and endless opportunities.

To the outside world, you’re the quintessential rich girl: impeccably stylish, effortlessly popular, and seemingly flawless. Yet beneath this polished veneer lies a different reality. Despite your privileged upbringing, you’re kind-hearted, fiercely intelligent, and deeply dedicated to everything you do. Your friend group, including Jake, Jay, Heeseung, Sunoo, Niki, Jungwon, Yuna, and Karina, forms a close-knit circle that navigates the pressures of their world together.

But there’s always been one glaring exception: Park Sunghoon. The feud between the two of you is infamous, an unspoken tension that pulses beneath the surface of your otherwise harmonious friendships. No one really knows how it started, and no one seems to care enough to unravel it. Instead, everyone just tolerates your constant bickering.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The lunch table is alive with conversation, the usual chatter amplified by the excitement of the latest gossip. Karina sits comfortably beside Heeseung, leaning into him with an easy confidence that only she can pull off. She’s in the middle of talking about her parents’ latest venture—something about opening another resort somewhere exotic—when she casually drops the bomb.

“So, they’re gone for the whole weekend,” she says, her voice loud enough to catch everyone’s attention. “And you know what that means…”

Jake perks up immediately, his eyes bright. “Party?”

Karina grins. “Obviously. Saturday night, my place. No theme this time, just show up and bring your best energy.”

Yuna claps her hands in excitement. “Finally! It’s been forever since the last one. I was starting to forget what a real party looks like.”

Jay laughs. “As if you’d ever forget. You practically live for these things.”

Yuna sticks her tongue out at him, but her smile doesn’t waver. “Guilty as charged.”

Heeseung wraps an arm around Karina’s shoulders, looking amused. “You’re not worried about your parents finding out?”

She rolls her eyes. “Please, they won’t even notice. And even if they do, what’s the worst that could happen? They’ll just buy me something to make up for being gone.”

“Must be nice,” Niki mutters, leaning back in his chair.

Sunoo nudges him with a grin. “Oh, come on, don’t act like you’re not excited. You were the first one to ask about the music last time.”

Niki shrugs, but he can’t hide his smile. “Yeah, well, only if it’s not Sunghoon’s terrible playlist again.”

You glance across the table, catching Sunghoon’s eye. He’s lounging back in his chair, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “My playlist was fine, thank you very much,” he retorts. “It’s not my fault you have no taste.”

You snort. “Please, Sunghoon, your taste in music is as bad as your taste in everything else.”

He looks over at you, eyebrow raised. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

You shrug, feigning innocence. “Nothing, just that your definition of ‘good’ is highly questionable.”

He chuckles, the sound low and irritatingly smug. “Coming from you, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Karina cuts in, sensing the rising tension. “Alright, let’s not turn this into another one of your little spats. Save it for the party, okay?”

Sunghoon smirks, still looking at you. “Looking forward to it already.”

You roll your eyes but can’t resist shooting back, “Don’t get too excited, I might just ignore you all night.”

“Oh, the horror,” he replies, his voice dripping with mock terror. “How will I ever survive?”

Jay laughs, nudging Jake. “You know, one day they might actually get along.”

Jake shakes his head, grinning. “Nah, where’s the fun in that?”

Karina steers the conversation back to the party details, running through a list of essentials while Heeseung nods along, offering suggestions. “Invite whoever you want,” she says, “oh except luci, last time I caught her giving mark head in my parents bedroom, I haven’t been able to go in there since.”

You laugh and nod in agreement, trying not to notice how Sunghoon is still watching you, his expression unreadable. For a moment, you wonder what’s going through his head, but then you push the thought away. Whatever it is, it’s probably nothing you need to worry about.

Karina claps her hands, bringing the attention back to her. “So, everyone’s in?”

There’s a chorus of agreement, and the table erupts into a mix of laughter and excited chatter as plans start to form. You glance over at Sunghoon one more time, catching his eye for a brief second before looking away. This party is already shaping up to be interesting… and you have a feeling that’s an understatement.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The lunch buzz still lingers in your ears as the group makes its way back across the pristine campus grounds. The sunlight reflects off the sleek, modern architecture of the school’s main building, and you can’t help but admire the way everything here seems to sparkle—like even the bricks and mortar are aware of the school's prestige.

You find yourself walking beside Karina, who’s still chatting excitedly about the party, while Heeseung stays close, throwing in a comment or two. Yuna and Sunoo are a few steps ahead, their heads bent together as they giggle over something on Sunoo’s phone. You catch Jake and Jay trailing behind, still debating something about sports cars or the best summer destinations.

Just as you’re about to reach the entrance, you feel a presence beside you. You don’t need to turn your head to know who it is; Sunghoon always manages to sidle up to you when you least expect it.

“What, are you following me now?” you ask, not breaking your stride.

He chuckles. “Oh, please. Don’t flatter yourself. It just so happens our lockers are in the same direction.”

“Right,” you drawl, rolling your eyes. “Like you don’t go out of your way to annoy me.”

He glances at you, smirk still firmly in place. “Maybe I just like seeing you get all riled up. It’s entertaining.”

You shoot him a glare, but before you can fire back a retort, the group reaches the main hallway. The chatter from the student body fills the air, a mix of excitement and post-lunch drowsiness. The smell of expensive cologne and designer perfumes lingers in the air, an unmistakable signature of the school’s elite.

Karina stops at her locker, Heeseung leaning against it with a casual arm draped over her shoulder. She turns to you, her voice dropping conspiratorially. “So, you’re coming early on Saturday, right? I need a hand setting things up.”

You nod, grateful for the distraction from Sunghoon. “Of course. I’ll be there.”

“Great!” She beams. “And maybe you can help me make sure everything stays under control. You know how things can get with this crowd.”

Heeseung laughs softly. “Good luck with that. I don’t think anyone’s ever managed to keep Sunoo and Niki under control for more than five minutes.”

As if on cue, Sunoo pops up beside you with a grin. “I heard that, Heeseung! I’m an angel, thank you very much.”

Niki appears at his side, raising an eyebrow. “An angel of chaos, maybe.”

The group laughs, and you feel the tension in your shoulders ease. It’s moments like these that make all the bickering and drama feel worth it.

But then, just as you’re about to make another comment, Sunghoon’s voice cuts through the noise. “So, Y/N,” he says casually, “what are you going to wear to the party? Let me guess… something that screams ‘trying too hard’?”

You whip your head around, narrowing your eyes at him. “And what are you planning on wearing, Sunghoon? Something that screams ‘I own everything but a personality’?”

There’s a collective gasp from your friends, followed by a chorus of laughter. Sunghoon raises his eyebrows, feigning a look of hurt. “Ouch, that one actually stung a little. Didn’t know you had it in you.”

You cross your arms, feeling a triumphant smile tug at your lips. “I’ve got plenty more where that came from. Try me.”

He leans in slightly, lowering his voice just enough that only you can hear. “Maybe I will,” he says, his eyes flicking over you in a way that makes your pulse quicken. “But you’re going to have to do better than that if you want to get under my skin.”

You’re about to retort when a voice interrupts. “Can we get through one day without you two turning everything into a competition?” Jay sighs, looking exasperated. “Seriously, it’s exhausting just watching you.”

Jake nods in agreement, though he’s grinning. “You guys need to find a new hobby. Preferably one that doesn’t involve verbal sparring in the middle of the hallway.”

You shrug, unable to resist the urge to keep poking at Sunghoon. “I’m open to suggestions, but I doubt Sunghoon has any better ideas.”

Sunghoon leans back, crossing his arms with a playful smile. “Oh, I’ve got plenty of ideas. But I think you’d be too scared to try them.”

Before you can respond, the bell rings, signaling the end of lunch. Karina groans. “Ugh, saved by the bell. I guess we’ll have to pick this up later.”

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

As everyone starts to disperse to their respective classes, Sunghoon gives you one last look, a challenge in his eyes. “Don’t worry, Y/N,” he says smoothly. “I’ll be looking forward to it.”

You roll your eyes, but your heart is beating just a little faster. You can’t help but wonder what exactly he’s planning… and why a part of you is actually looking forward to finding out.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The day of the party arrives with a crisp, clear sky and a hint of excitement that seems to permeate every corner of the city. You wake up early, feeling a mix of anticipation and nervous energy. Karina had texted you the night before, reminding you to come over in the afternoon to help set up for the party. You agreed eagerly, knowing that any opportunity to help would give you something to focus on and take your mind off the strange tension building between you and Sunghoon.

When you arrive at Karina’s mansion, the house is buzzing with activity. Karina’s housekeeper greets you at the door with a warm smile, directing you to the large, open-plan living area where Karina is already busy coordinating the decorations with a small army of helpers. The space is being transformed into a glamorous party venue with twinkling lights, elegant table settings, and a dance floor that looks like it’s straight out of a high-end club.

Karina spots you as soon as you walk in, her face lighting up with relief and excitement. “Y/N! Perfect timing. I’m so glad you’re here. We could use an extra pair of hands.”

You smile, rolling up your sleeves. “What can I do to help?”

Karina hands you a stack of neatly folded napkins and points towards a table covered with party favors. “Start by setting these up on the tables. I want everything to look perfect tonight.”

You get to work, organizing napkins and arranging snack trays, chatting with Karina about the last-minute details. The hours fly by as you work alongside her, the room gradually coming together into a setting that is unmistakably Karina’s style—classy, sophisticated, and just a bit over the top.

As the afternoon drifts into evening, Karina claps her hands and gathers you for a brief break. “Alright, it’s time for a quick change. You’ve been working so hard, and I want you to look as fabulous as the rest of the evening.”

You raise an eyebrow, half-teasing. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

Karina waves her hand dismissively. “you don’t want me to answer that. cmon you’re hot, why not show off a little?”

Before you can protest, Karina ushers you into her bedroom and pulls out a sleek, little black dress from her closet. The dress is short and simple with a cut that accentuates your figure without being too revealing.

“Put this on,” Karina insists, handing you the dress. “Trust me, you’ll look amazing. And don’t worry about the hair and makeup; I’ve got that covered too.”

You change quickly, admiring the way the dress fits and the way it makes you feel more confident and glamorous. When you step out of the room, Karina is waiting with a professional-looking makeup kit and a few hair tools.

As she works on your hair and makeup, she chatters away, filling the room with her usual upbeat energy. “you look sexy”

You smile at her reflection in the mirror. “Thanks, Karina. You don’t think it’s a bit much? It’s definitely more out there than I usually go for”.

Karina beams, finishing up with a final touch of lipstick. “babe there’s no such thing as too much. And who knows, maybe you’ll catch someone eye tonight,” she tells you with a wink.

With a laugh and a final look at yourself in the mirror, you feel a surge of excitement. The dress feels perfect, and the makeup and hair make you look polished and ready for the night. As you head back downstairs, you catch sight of Karina’s smile of approval, and you can’t help but feel a bit more confident about the evening ahead.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The music starts pumping through the walls as you and Karina make your way back downstairs. The final touches have been set, and the room looks like a scene straight out of a teen movie: fairy lights strung up in every corner, a couple of disco balls catching the light just right, and a dance floor that practically begs people to let loose. Karina surveys everything with a grin that stretches from ear to ear.

“See?” she says, nudging you with her elbow. “This is why I always go all out.”

You chuckle, glancing around. “Okay, okay, you were right. This does look kind of amazing.”

The doorbell rings, and Karina practically bounces on her toes. “That must be the first guests! Come on, we have to greet everyone in style.”

The two of you rush to the front door, and soon enough, your friends start streaming in. Sunoo is the first to arrive, with Niki and Jungwon right behind him. They all look ready to have the best night ever, and Sunoo immediately zeroes in on you, his eyes going wide.

“Oh. My. God. Y/N!” Sunoo exclaims dramatically, clutching his chest. “Look at you in that little black dress! Who is she?!”

You roll your eyes, fighting back a grin. “Alright, Sunoo, calm down. It’s just a dress.”

“It’s not just a dress,” Niki interjects with a grin. “It’s the dress. Who are you trying to impress tonight?”

Jungwon nudges Niki. “Yeah, spill. Is there someone you’re hoping to catch the eye of?”

You smirk, crossing your arms. “Oh, please, like I’d tell you guys even if there was.”

More of your friends arrive, and soon the room is buzzing with chatter and laughter. Jake and Jay show up not long after, both of them effortlessly cool as always. Jay immediately gets to work DJ-ing from his phone, while Jake heads to the makeshift bar, already concocting a round of mixed drinks.

Then, just as you start to relax, you see him—Park Sunghoon. He steps in, looking annoyingly good in a casual black button-down and jeans. His eyes scan the room until they find you. For a split second, he looks almost surprised, but then his trademark smirk appears.

“Well, well,” Sunghoon says as he strolls over to you, hands casually shoved into his pockets. “Look who decided to play dress-up. You got a hot date tonight or something?”

You scoff, giving him a look. “Oh, please, Sunghoon. Unlike you, I don’t have to try so hard to impress everyone.”

Sunghoon chuckles, leaning in just slightly. “Right. Because you just show up looking like that for fun?”

Before you can shoot back a retort, Karina swoops in, looping her arm through yours. “Hey, Sunghoon, quit being a troll. Y/N looks amazing, and you know it. Now go get a drink and try to be nice for once!”

He holds up his hands, his grin widening. “Alright, alright, I’ll behave... for now.”

You watch as he saunters off to join Jake at the bar, and Karina gives you a knowing look. “Don’t let him get under your skin tonight, okay?”

You nod, trying to brush it off, even though you’re still buzzing from his teasing. “Yeah, yeah, I’m good.”

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The party is in full swing now—music thumping, people laughing, and the lights twinkling overhead like stars. You find yourself swept up in the fun, moving from one conversation to the next, the earlier tension with Sunghoon momentarily forgotten. You’re by the snack table, popping a few chips into your mouth when Haechan sidles up next to you with his signature grin.

“Hey, Y/N,” he says smoothly, leaning in a little closer than necessary. “Looking good tonight. That dress is seriously working for you.”

You smile at him, amused by his blatant flirting. “Thanks, Haechan. You’re not looking too bad yourself,” you reply, playing along. He’s always been a harmless flirt, and you don’t mind the attention tonight.

He grins wider, clearly pleased. “I try. But seriously, I can’t believe I’m just now noticing how stunning you are. Were you hiding this whole time or just waiting for the perfect moment to make your grand entrance?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Oh, you know me. Always dramatic,” you joke, and he chuckles, leaning in a bit more.

“You’re full of surprises, Y/N. Makes me want to know you better,” he says, his voice dropping slightly, and you can’t help but laugh at his over-the-top delivery.

What you don’t notice is that from across the room, Sunghoon has been watching the entire interaction with a growing frown. He’s leaning against a wall, a drink in hand, his eyes narrowing as he watches Haechan lean closer to you, flashing that charming smile. His jaw tightens, and his grip on the cup becomes visibly tighter.

Heeseung, who’s been standing beside him, follows his line of sight and notices the tense look on his friend’s face. A knowing grin spreads across Heeseung’s lips as he leans over to Sunghoon, nudging him with his elbow.

“Someone looks like they’ve got their feathers ruffled,” Heeseung teases, keeping his voice low so only Sunghoon can hear.

Sunghoon scoffs, rolling his eyes. “I’m fine.”

“Sure,” Heeseung laughs. “That’s why you’ve been glaring at Haechan like you’re ready to knock that grin off his face.”

Sunghoon doesn’t respond right away, but his eyes remain fixed on you and Haechan. Heeseung watches with amusement, clearly enjoying the show.

“Just admit it, man,” Heeseung continues, his tone light. “You’re jealous.”

Sunghoon finally looks away from you, giving Heeseung a dismissive look. “I’m not jealous. I just don’t like seeing him act like a fool.”

Heeseung snorts. “Right. Because you’re so worried about Haechan embarrassing himself.” He claps a hand on Sunghoon’s shoulder. “Come on, dude, just go talk to her. Or are you afraid she’ll turn you down?”

Sunghoon shoots him a glare. “Shut up, Heeseung.”

Heeseung just laughs harder, clearly unbothered by Sunghoon’s mood. “Alright, whatever you say. But just so you know, glaring at Haechan isn’t going to do anything except make you look more obvious.”

Sunghoon doesn’t answer, but Heeseung’s words seem to hit a nerve. He turns his attention back to you, his expression unreadable, though there’s still a flicker of something in his eyes—something more than just casual interest.

Meanwhile, you’re still chatting with Haechan, completely unaware of the little drama unfolding across the room. But you can’t shake the feeling that someone’s watching you, and when you finally glance up, your eyes meet Sunghoon’s for just a second. He quickly looks away, and you can’t help but wonder what that was all about.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The party continues to buzz around you, but after a while, the noise and energy start to feel a bit overwhelming. You decide you need a break, a moment to yourself away from the chaos. Without saying anything, you slip out of the crowded living room and head toward the balcony, where the air is cooler and the music is just a muffled hum in the background.

You push open the glass doors and step outside, letting the crisp night air hit your face. It’s a welcome change from the warmth inside. You lean against the railing, taking a deep breath, trying to clear your mind. The stars are faint above the city lights, and you can hear distant sounds of traffic, a reminder of the world continuing outside this little bubble of a party.

You close your eyes for a moment, just enjoying the quiet. But then, you hear the soft sound of footsteps behind you. You turn, half-expecting to see Karina or maybe Sunoo, but your heart skips a beat when you see Sunghoon stepping out onto the balcony.

“What do you want, Sunghoon?” you sigh, not bothering to hide your annoyance.

“I could ask you the same thing” he replies, his voice closer than you expected. You feel the warmth of his body behind you, jus inches away. “Running away from the party?”

”Hardly.” You glance over your shoulder at him. “Just needed a break from all the fakes and liars inside.”

His lips curl into that familiar, infuriating smirk. “And here I thought you thrived on that type of thing. Who knew Y/N had limits?”

You roll tour eyes, turning back to the view. “Yeah, well, believe it or not I do. But you wouldn’t know anything, would you?”

Sunghoon steps closer, his breath brushing against your ear, sending an unwanted shiver down your spine. You feel a rush of heat flood your cheeks and something else you refuse to acknowledge. “You don’t know anything about me, Sunghoon. And id keep it that way if I were you.”

He laughs, a deep, rich sound that makes your skin prickle. “I think you like it when I get under your skin. Why else do you always react like this?” You scoff, turning to face him, only then realizing how close he actually was. “Maybe i’m just tired of you acting like you’re gods gift to the world. newsflash: you’re not.”

His grin widens, and he takes another step closer, invading you’re space entirely as if he wasn’t already to begin with. “Admit it.” he says, his voice dropping lower. “You like our little games. You like the way I push your buttons.”

Your heart is pounding now, and you hate that he’s right, that there’s something about him that gets to you in a way no one else does.But you refuse to five him the satisfaction of knowing it. “In your dreams,” you snap, though the breathlessness in your voice betrays you.

He reaches out, his fingers brushing your arm, and you feel a jolt of heat at the contact. “Is that so?” he whispers, his lips dangerously close to yours now, his eyes dark with challenge. “Because I think you’re lying. I think you want this as much as I do.”

Your breath hitches, and for a moment, you’re frozen, caught in his gaze. The intensity in his eyes makes your pulse race, a mix of anger and undeniable attraction. He’s so close now that you can feel his breath your lips, and before you can stop yourself, you grab his shirt, pulling him the last few inches towards you.

“Maybe I just want to shut you up,” you mutter, your voice barely above a whisper. “Then do it,” he taunts, his lips brushing against yours, almost but not quite a kiss. It’s all the encouragement you need. You close the distance, your mouth crashing against his. His hands grip your waist, pulling you closer, and you press against him, fueled by a mix of anger and desire.

The kiss is intense, a battle of wills as much as it is anything else. His lips are firm, demanding, and you meet him with equal force, neither of you willing to give an inch. Your hands move up to his hair, tugging slightly and he groans against your mouth, deepening the kiss.

You’re lost in it. Lost in him, every nerve in your body alight with sensation. His hands slide up your back, his touch sending sparks through you, and you hate how much you crave it, hate how much you want him despite everything.

You’re breathless when you finally pull back, your heart hammering against your ribs. Sunghoon’s lips are parted, his breaths coming in ragged, and his eyes are dark with something dangerous—something you know you shouldn’t be entertaining.

His hand is still on your waist, his thumb brushing the exposed skin just beneath the hem of your shirt, and you swear every nerve in your body is on fire. He leans in close, his lips grazing your ear, and his voice comes out in a low, almost pleading murmur. “Come back to my place.”

It isn’t a question, but there’s something in his tone that sends a shiver down your spine, a combination of hunger and desperation that mirrors what’s coursing through your veins. For a moment, you’re tempted—so, so tempted to just say yes and give in to whatever this is. But logic fights its way to the surface, and you pull back just enough to meet his gaze.

“Are you serious?” you ask, your voice wavering more than you’d like.

His expression doesn’t falter, his eyes locked onto yours. “Dead serious.” He swallows, his grip on your waist tightening, as if he’s afraid you’ll slip away. “I don’t want this to end here.”

You hesitate, your mind racing. This is Sunghoon—Park Sunghoon—the guy you’ve spent so long arguing with, glaring at across rooms, doing everything in your power to avoid. But there’s something different about the way he’s looking at you now, something raw and real that makes it hard to think clearly.

“I don’t know,” you say, trying to sound firm, though your resolve is crumbling by the second. “I mean… this is crazy.”

“Maybe,” he agrees, his voice still low, still laced with that edge of desperation. “But I think you like crazy.” His lips curl into a half-smile, that familiar cockiness tempered with something else, something softer.

You bite your lip, weighing your options, feeling the tension between you both—hot, magnetic, impossible to ignore. “This is a bad idea,” you whisper, though even you can hear the lack of conviction in your words.

Sunghoon steps closer, closing the distance again, his forehead almost touching yours. “Probably the worst,” he says, his breath hot against your skin. “But if you don’t say yes, I’m going to lose my mind.”

You can feel his heartbeat through his shirt, can feel how fast it’s racing, and you know he means it. Part of you is screaming to walk away, to leave now before you make a mistake, but there’s another part—a louder, more reckless part—that’s screaming for you to stay, to see where this goes.

“Just one night,” he murmurs, his lips brushing yours again, barely a kiss, just enough to make you shiver. “No strings, no expectations. Just… us.”

You close your eyes, fighting against every instinct telling you to run. But when you open them again, his gaze is still locked onto yours, and you can’t deny the heat pooling in your stomach, the way your skin tingles with every touch.

“Fine,” you breathe, barely louder than a whisper. “One night.”

His grin is immediate, but there’s relief in it too, and he closes the distance, pressing his lips to yours again, this time harder, more insistent. “Let’s get out of here,” he says against your mouth, his hand sliding to intertwine with yours, and you know there’s no going back now.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

You manage to sneak past your friends to leave Karina’s mansion, the partygoers and scattered distractions making it all that more simple.

The drive is quiet, both of you caught in your own thoughts. The city passes by in a blur of neon signs and headlights, the streets quieter than they were earlier. You steal a glance at him, watching the way his jaw clenches, the way his fingers tap against the wheel like he’s counting down the seconds.

Sunghoon pulls up to his mansion, its sprawling, modern architecture framed by towering trees and high walls that ensure absolute privacy. The wide driveway curves up to the grand entrance, where soft lights cast a warm glow over the marble steps and tall double doors. You glance around, taking in the sheer size of the place—not because it surprises you, but because you’ve never been here before.

Your own family’s estate is nothing to scoff at, but there’s a distinct style to his home—something sleek and almost understated, despite its size. You tilt your head slightly, noticing the details: the way the garden is meticulously maintained, the sharp lines of the building softened by the greenery that surrounds it. It’s impressive, in a way that’s different from what you’re used to.

He takes your hand to lead you inside, you follow him down the dimly lit corridor, decorated with family pictures and modern art that costs a fortune. He pauses at his bedroom door, his hand still holding yours, and turns to look at you one more time. “Last chance to change your mind,” he murmurs, though his thumb strokes the back of your hand, a comforting gesture.

You take a deep breath, then shake your head. “I’m not changing my mind.”

A small smile tugs at his lips. “Good,” he whispers, unlocking the door and pushing it open.

You step inside, and he follows, closing the door behind you. The space is dimly lit, warm, and there’s an unexpected coziness to it—minimalistic but comfortable. The air feels thick with everything unspoken between you.

Sunghoon turns to you, his gaze intense, and he steps closer, his hand moving up to your face, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’ve been thinking about this all night,” he admits quietly, his voice almost a growl.

Your breath catches, and you feel the heat rush to your face. “Then stop talking,” you murmur, your own voice breathless.

His lips are on yours in an instant, capturing your mouth in a kiss that’s all-consuming, filled with all the tension, the want, the frustration that’s been building for so long. You kiss him back just as fiercely, hands sliding up his chest, feeling his heartbeat pounding beneath your palms.

Sunghoon's hands roamed over your body, squeezing your tits. You let out a small involuntary moan, a grunt leaving him immediately after. His lips move down to your next, trailing up and down before reaching that sweet spot right behind your ear.

It all feels to fucking good, your panties sticking to your core. He moves to sit on the edge of his bed, pulling you into his lap before catching your lips once again. His growing hardness is poking at you. “You look so fucking sexy in this little dress,” He tells you in a low tone that makes you clench around nothing, the ache between your legs growing. You start grinding on him, his hands grabbing your ass, encouraging you to keep grinding against his clothed length. “That’s it baby, grind on me, keep rubbing that pretty pussy over my cock.”

Your head is thrown back, lip in between your teeth, his words encouraging your quickening movements. “Need you so bad, Hoon,” you manage to get out.

“Yeah baby? tell me what you need.” He tells you. It’s almost embarrassing how much you wanted him. “Need your cock.” Without another word you feel his hands back on your ass, lifting you up and throwing you down on his bed. He looks up at you with mischievious eyes, hovering over you as his hands roam down the sides of your thighs to them hem of your dress. “Can i take this off?” he asks, caressing the soft, exposed skin there.

Eagerly, you nod quickly, reaching for the hem to help him pull it up and over your head. Luckily you opted for a pair of black lacy panties and opposed to your more comfortable ones. He audibly sighs and your exposed figure, “You’re so beautiful,” He tells you, his fingers working to slide your panties down your legs and tossing them to the side, revealing just how much you wanted him.

“Shit baby you’re so wet.” He leans down, placing soft, wet kisses just below your navel, dangerously close to where you wanted him most. “Hoon please,” you murmur out. He straightens out, unbuckling his belt to pull down his pants and boxers all in one go. While he wasn’t remarkably long, he made up for it in girth. You lick your lips at the sight, anticipation and heat pooling.

He pumps himself a couple times before he’s lining himself up with your entrance. He takes his time, making sure to smear your slick between your clit and his length. You feel his tip parting your folds, your breath hitching in your throat. “You ready?” his eyes meet yours for assurance. No words come out your mouth, all you do is nod.

He enters you carefully, a strong contrast from his words earlier in the night. The last thing he wants is to rush, just because of how unpatient and horny he is. You close your eyes, holding in the gasp that threatens to escape your lips. “Relax baby, I got you.”

“I know,” you breathe out. The sudden stretch has your eyes rolling to the back of your head. The burn quickly turning into a delicious one. “That’s it,” he praises you continuing to slide in until he’s nestled completely between your walls. “You take me so well,” he grunts, his length twitching inside of you.

“Fuck me, Hoon” you murmur, your walls clench around him, throwing his head back at the feeling. Before you know it he’s pulling out of you, only to smack his hips back against yours. It knocks all the oxygen out your lungs, leaving you breathless as he repeats the same action over and over again. “Fuck,” you breathe out, focusing on how good he looks above you.

You’re in a complete feeling of euphoria. Sunghoon’s skills topping those of the few guys you’ve slept with before. In that moment, all the bickering and years of back and forth leave your mind completely. The only thing closing your mind is how good him of all people is making you feel.

“Hoon… faster,” you let out, his hips snapping in a faster pace on command. Your back arches off the bed, hands grasping the sheets in small fists. He notices and reaches for them to thread his fingers through yours, pinning them above your head. “You like that baby? love how good you feel… fuck you’re so tight. Gonna make you cum so hard.”

“I’m so c-close, fuck,” you breathe out. His thrusts become messier and you know he’s close. “Cum on my cock pretty,” he grunts, hands letting go of yours to grip your hips. Clenching around him, it takes a few for pumps before you’re both coming undone. His cock twitching inside you as he fucks his cum into you.

He drops his sweaty forehead against your shoulder, quick, deep breaths meeting your skin and he comes down from his high. It takes you both a while before your breathing steadys. “You good?,” he asks you, settling on the bed beside you. “mhm,” is all you say in response, unsure as to where this leaves your relationship. It all felt to good to ignore. “Are you good?” you ask him after a moment of silence. “Better than I have in a long time.”

You’re not sure when you fall asleep. The exhaustion taking over you all at once.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The morning light filters softly through the heavy curtains, casting a gentle glow across the room. You wake to the sound of birds chirping outside, their songs a peaceful contrast to the intensity of the night before. The bed is warm, and you’re nestled comfortably under the covers, Sunghoon’s arm draped over you.

You shift slightly, the movement causing Sunghoon to stir beside you. He mumbles something incoherent, tightening his hold on you before settling back into a deeper sleep. You take a moment to just lie there, letting yourself absorb the strange, surreal comfort of the situation. There’s an odd serenity in the room, a calm that feels almost unreal given the whirlwind of emotions that led you here.

As you slowly become more aware, you gently untangle yourself from his embrace, careful not to wake him. You sit up and stretch, glancing around at the elegant room that’s now your temporary sanctuary. The soft morning light highlights the sleek lines and modern decor, giving the space an almost ethereal quality.

You slide out of bed and make your way to the bathroom, feeling a little self-conscious but determined to gather yourself. You glance at yourself in the mirror, trying to process the whirlwind of the past night. The evidence of sleep lingers in your eyes, and you smooth your hair, mentally preparing yourself for whatever comes next.

When you return to the bedroom, Sunghoon is still asleep, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. You take a moment to just watch him, the vulnerability in his expression softened by sleep. There’s a part of you that feels a pang of something—softness, maybe even affection—though you’re still trying to fully understand what it all means.

Deciding not to linger too long, you quietly gather your things and start to get dressed. You’re pulling on your clothes when you hear a rustling behind you. You turn to find Sunghoon blinking awake, his gaze immediately locking on you with a sleepy, yet intense look.

“Good morning,” he murmurs, his voice rough with sleep.

You smile softly, trying to keep things light despite the previous night's intensity. “Morning. I didn’t want to wake you.”

He stretches lazily, a smirk forming on his lips. “And here I was thinking you’d sneak out before I even woke up. Not very considerate of you, you know.”

You raise an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t realize I was supposed to tiptoe around your mansion.”

He chuckles, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Yeah, well, you should be lucky you’re not being kicked out for your unexpected visit.”

You roll your eyes, pulling on your shirt. “Oh, please. It’s not like I forced my way in. You made it pretty clear you wanted me here.”

His smirk widens. “True. And now I’m faced with the charming aftermath of our little escapade. How do you intend to handle that?”

You shrug, trying to keep your tone casual. “I think we both know this doesn’t exactly change things. We still don’t like each other. This was… a one-off.”

Sunghoon raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “A one-off? That’s what we’re calling it now? What happened to all that intense ‘hate’ from last night?”

You narrow your eyes at him, feeling a bit defensive. “It’s complicated. We both know that. I’m just here to sort myself out.”

He stands up, stretching with a yawn. “Well, I suppose if you’re done with the morning-after drama, I should at least make you breakfast.”

You look at him skeptically. “Breakfast? You’re really pulling out the stops now?”

He gives you a mockingly hurt look. “Don’t sound so surprised. Even enemies deserve to be fed after a night like that.”

You smirk, shaking your head. “Fine. Breakfast it is. But don’t think this means I’m sticking around for a whole lot of chit-chat.”

He grins, clearly pleased with your response. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Just a quick meal and then you can be on your way.”

As he leads you to the kitchen, you both fall into a familiar rhythm, trading barbs and jabs that feel almost comfortable in their own way. The awkwardness of the night before is still there, but it’s tempered by the humor and banter that defines your relationship.

In the kitchen, Sunghoon starts pulling out ingredients, his movements confident and efficient. You watch him, feeling a strange mix of irritation and appreciation. Despite everything, there’s something almost endearing about the way he’s trying to play the gracious host.

“So, what’s the plan after breakfast?” you ask, grabbing a coffee cup and filling it. “Are we going to pretend like nothing happened, or do you have some other grand gesture in mind?”

He looks over at you with a smirk. “Maybe I’ll just enjoy the novelty of seeing you eat my food. Consider it a small victory.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s a genuine smile on your lips. “Enjoy it while it lasts. I’m not here for long.”

He chuckles, placing a plate of food in front of you. “Don’t worry, I won’t be offended if you leave right after. I’m sure we’ll find new ways to annoy each other soon enough.”

You take a bite of the breakfast, shaking your head in mock exasperation. “I’ll hold you to that.”

As you eat, the tension from the night before begins to ease, replaced by the familiar dynamic of your interactions. It’s not exactly comfortable, but it’s familiar—a small reminder that despite everything, some things never really change.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The bell rings, signaling the end of the period, you gather your things and stand up, eager to leave the classroom and escape the strange tension that’s been hanging between you and Sunghoon all day. You’re heading toward the door when you feel a light tap on your shoulder. You turn around to find Sunghoon standing close, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Can I help you?” you ask, trying to keep your tone neutral.

Sunghoon leans in, his face just inches from yours. His breath is warm against your ear, and you can feel his proximity even though you try to back away slightly. “You look cute today,” he whispers, his voice low and deliberately teasing.

You freeze for a moment, your heart skipping a beat as his words sink in. You’re taken aback by the unexpected comment, feeling a rush of irritation mixed with something you can’t quite define. You quickly compose yourself, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Seriously?” you hiss, trying to keep your voice low so that no one else hears. “Now you’re trying to play nice? How pathetic.”

Sunghoon pulls back slightly, a smirk tugging at his lips. “I’m just making an observation,” he says innocently, though the amusement in his eyes betrays him.

You roll your eyes, your frustration evident. “Yeah, well, save it for someone who actually cares. I’m not in the mood for your games.”

As you turn and walk toward the door, you hear Sunghoon’s laughter behind you, light and mocking. You try to ignore the heat rising in your cheeks as you make your way out of the classroom, determined not to let him get under your skin. Despite your efforts to stay composed, his words linger in your mind, adding to the awkwardness and confusion of the day.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Lunch at school is a lively affair, with the cafeteria buzzing with the chatter of students and the clatter of trays. You and your friends—Yuna, Karina, and the rest—settle into your usual spot at the table. Sunghoon and his group are seated across from you, and you can feel his gaze lingering on you, even as you try to focus on the conversation with your friends.

Karina is mid-sentence, animatedly discussing the latest school gossip when Sunghoon's voice cuts through. “Oh, come on, Y/N. You can't actually believe that nonsense.”

You glance up, catching Sunghoon’s eyes. He’s smirking, clearly enjoying the opportunity to poke at you. “And what’s so ridiculous about it?” you retort, trying to keep your voice steady despite the irritation brewing inside you.

“Seriously?” Sunghoon’s grin widens. “It’s just a bunch of exaggerated stories. You’ve always had a knack for falling for that kind of thing.”

You roll your eyes, feeling a familiar annoyance bubbling up. “Says the guy who’s always spouting off about how everything’s ‘not worth his time.’”

Sunghoon leans back in his chair, folding his arms. “At least I don’t get caught up in every little bit of drama that comes my way.”

You scoff, crossing your arms. “I’m not the one who spends half his day looking for ways to pick fights. Maybe if you weren’t so obsessed with making everything a competition, you’d see things more clearly.”

Yuna and Karina exchange glances, trying to stifle their laughter as the two of you go back and forth. Karina nudges you playfully. “Looks like you two are back to your old routine.”

You shoot her a sidelong glance, annoyed but unable to hide a small smile. “Oh, you have no idea.”

Meanwhile, Sunghoon’s eyes are fixed on you, his smirk never fading. Every time you catch him looking, you feel a mix of frustration and unease. His gaze is unrelenting, and despite your best efforts to ignore it, you can’t help but feel self-conscious.

“What are you staring at?” you snap, catching him in the act.

Sunghoon raises an eyebrow, his expression innocent. “Just observing. Is that a problem?”

You narrow your eyes, crossing your arms. “Maybe if you had something better to do than harass me, you wouldn’t have to be so nosy.”

He chuckles, leaning forward with a teasing glint in his eyes. “Maybe I just enjoy watching you get all riled up. It’s entertaining.”

You glare at him, feeling your irritation spike. “Yeah, well, it’s not exactly a compliment.”

Sunghoon shrugs, still smirking. “Suit yourself.”

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

After lunch, you head to your next class with a sense of relief, hoping to escape the tension of the cafeteria. As you settle into your seat, the classroom buzzes with the usual pre-class chatter. You glance around, hoping to avoid any more interactions with Sunghoon, but he’s in the same class, sitting a few rows behind you.

The teacher arrives, and the room quiets down as the lesson begins. You try to focus on the lecture, but the lingering effects of the lunchtime bickering keep your thoughts scattered. Every now and then, you can feel Sunghoon’s eyes on you, though you avoid turning around to confirm it.

Halfway through the class, you feel a small piece of paper land softly on your desk. You glance down to find a note with neat handwriting:

*“Can we at least pretend to be civil? I promise I’m not plotting your demise.”*

You roll your eyes, a small smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. You scribble a quick reply:

“Why start now? It’s more fun to keep you on your toes.”

You fold the note and toss it back over your shoulder, hoping it will reach him without drawing too much attention. A few moments later, you see Sunghoon’s hand reach forward to grab it, his expression unreadable.

The rest of the class proceeds in a blur of lectures and notes. The occasional glances you and Sunghoon exchange are filled with unspoken tension, but you both manage to keep your interactions to a minimum.

At the end of your lecture, you pack up your things and make your way out of the classroom. You’re heading down the hall when you hear Sunghoon’s voice behind you.

“Hey, wait up.”

You stop, turning to see him catching up with you. He’s wearing a casual expression, though there’s a hint of seriousness in his eyes.

“Seriously? What now?” you ask, trying to keep your tone even.

Sunghoon’s gaze lingers on you, and he seems to consider his next words carefully. “So, I was thinking… why don’t you come over to my place later?”

You raise an eyebrow, puzzled. “For what? We already had our… whatever that was.”

Sunghoon gives you a knowing look, his smirk widening. “Come on, you know you’re curious. Besides, you know you want me.”

You feel a rush of heat at his words, and you try to maintain your composure. “And what happened to it being a one-night thing? Are you trying to make this a regular thing now?”

Sunghoon’s eyes twinkle with mischief. “Maybe I am. Or maybe I just want to spend more time with you. Either way, I think you’re interested.”

You hesitate, feeling the pull of his words. The desire that was ignited the night before is still burning strong, and you find yourself tempted despite your better judgment.

With a sigh, you give in, unable to resist the allure of what he’s offering. “Alright, fine. I’ll come over. But just to see what you have in mind.” Sunghoon’s smile broadens, clearly pleased with your decision. “Great. see you later.”

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Later that night, you stand outside Sunghoon’s, house, or rather mansion. With a deep breath, you ring the doorbelll, and a moment later, Sunghoon opens the door. His eyes rake over you, and there’s that cocky familiar smirk on his face. “Youre here,” he says, stepping aside to let you in. There’s no hint of surprise, just a kind of smug statisfaction, like he knew you’d come.

“Yeah,” you reply, stepping inside “so what’s this all about?” Sunghoon doesn’t answer immediately. He just walks past you, heading into the foyer. You follow, your curiosity piqued, but you don’t miss the way his eyes flicker back to you with that same intent look. He turns around suddenly, before you can even process what’s happening, he’s closing the distance between you, leaning in like he’s about to kiss you.

“Woah wait,” you say quickly, pressing a hand against him firm chest to stop him. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Sunghoon pauses, eyebrows raised, but there’s no real apology in his expression. “What do you think in doing?” he counters, his voice low, almost daring him to challenge you. You roll your eyes, trying to ignore the way your heart is racing. “I didn’t come here just to… you know.”

He smirks, leaning in just enough that you feel the warmth of his breath. “Then why did you come here?”

You hesitate, caught between wanting to play it cool and the undeniable pull you feel toward him. “Maybe I was curious.” Sunghoon chuckles, “You’re here because you want this, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his hand grazing your hip lightly, testing your boundaries.

You swallow hard, trying to keep your composure. “You think you know everything, don’t you?”

His smirk widens. “I know enough.” He leans in again, and this time, his lips brush against your neck, a bold move that sends a jolt of heat through you. You bite your lip, figuring the urge to melt into his touch. “I didn’t say you could—“

“Then stop me,” he challenges, his voice a whisper against your skin. Your mind races every logical thought battling against the desire that’s been simmering between you since the other night. You hate how easily he gets under your skin, how is arrogance is both infuriating and strangely alluring. But instead of pushing him away, you find yourself lingering, testing the r limits just like he is.

“You’re infuriating,” you mutter, half annoyed, half breathless. He pulls back just enough to look you in the eye, his expression smug but hungry. “Yet I don’t see you walking away.”

You hate that he’s right. Instead of anything else, you meet his gaze head on, feeling that dangerous spark between you flicker into something more. “Just shut up and kiss me,” you say, finally giving in, if only to wipe that smug look off his face. And he does—without hesitation, with the kind of intensity that makes your head spin. It’s heated, unrestrained, and nothing like you imagined, and yet somehow it’s exactly what you wanted.

With a frustrated sigh, you put a hand on his chest and push him back a step. “Okay, seriously, what is this?” you demand, trying to keep your tone steady. “We can’t just keep… doing this whenever we feel like it. It’s stupid.”

He raises an eyebrow, looking way too amused for your liking. “Why not? You look like you’re enjoying yourself.”

You shoot him a glare. “Don’t flatter yourself. I just… I don’t want this to get messy.”

He smirks, clearly entertained by your struggle. “Messy? You mean you don’t want people to know you like kissing me?”

You scoff, crossing your arms. “I don’t like anything about you, Sunghoon. But if we’re being honest, there’s… something here, and I don’t see it going away anytime soon.”

His grin widens, and you want to slap it right off his face. “So, what? You’re proposing a deal?”

You roll your eyes. “Maybe. Friends with benefits. No strings attached, no drama, no catching feelings.”

Sunghoon chuckles, but there’s an edge to it. “Friends? I don’t think we’re even close to that.”

“Fine,” you snap, annoyed that he’s right. “Enemies with benefits then. Just… an arrangement. To get this out of our systems.”

His gaze darkens, and for a second, you think you see something flicker there, something unreadable. But then he leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear. “And what makes you think I’d agree to that?”

You raise your chin, meeting his challenge head-on. “Because you want this just as much as I do. Maybe more.”

He pauses, his lips curling into a slow, wicked smile. “Okay, I’ll bite,” he says, his voice low. “But here’s the deal: we do this my way. No whining, no complaining, and you definitely don’t get to pretend you don’t want it.”

You scowl, hating how cocky he looks, how certain he is that you’ll cave. “Fine,” you bite back. “But don’t think for a second that this means I like you.”

He laughs, the sound rich and mocking. “Trust me, I’d hate it if you did.”

You feel your blood boil at his arrogance, but there’s a thrill in it too, in the way you both seem to enjoy this game. “Deal,” you snap, holding out your hand.

He takes it, but instead of shaking, he pulls you in closer, his lips just inches from yours. “Just remember,” he murmurs, his eyes locked on yours, “this doesn’t change anything. I still can’t stand you.”

You smirk, matching his intensity. “Right back at you.”

And before you know it, his lips are crashing against yours again, and all that frustration and anger blurs into something reckless and wild. For now, you’ll play his game, but you know this is far from over.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Over the next few weeks, the “arrangement” with Sunghoon becomes a twisted game of secrecy and tension. You find yourself sneaking glances in class, meeting him in darkened hallways between periods, and exchanging heated looks across crowded lunch tables. The two of you are constantly dancing on the edge of discovery, and it’s becoming harder to hide the intensity simmering between you.

It starts small. The accidental brush of fingers when passing by in the hallway, the way his eyes linger a little too long when you’re speaking. But then, it escalates. The stolen moments between classes turn into late-night texts and spontaneous meetings wherever you can find some privacy. Empty classrooms, deserted stairwells, even the back of the library—places where no one would think to find the two of you together. The more time passes, the harder it gets to keep up the charade.

You’re starting to notice the way his friends glance between you two, confused by the sudden silences or the shared looks you forget to hide. Jay catches you one morning when you’re walking out of the library with Sunghoon following a few steps behind, your hair slightly mussed, your lips redder than usual.

“What’s going on there?” he asks, a teasing grin spreading across his face. “You and Sunghoon plotting world domination or something?”

You laugh it off, rolling your eyes. “Please. He’s too much of an idiot for that.”

But Jay looks unconvinced, his gaze flicking back to where Sunghoon is standing, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, watching you with a smirk that’s all too knowing. “Sure,” Jay says, dragging out the word like he’s not buying it.

At lunch, it’s even worse. Sunghoon sits across from you, his foot nudging yours under the table. It’s subtle, but it’s enough to send a jolt up your spine. You kick him back, hard, and he just chuckles, leaning back in his chair like he’s thoroughly enjoying the game.

“What are you two whispering about?” Yuna asks, narrowing her eyes in suspicion. You’re both quick to cover it up, but it’s obvious that your friends are starting to catch on.

“Nothing,” Sunghoon says smoothly, his voice annoyingly casual. “Just telling Y/N that she looks like she needs more sleep. Those dark circles are really showing.”

Your jaw clenches, but you force a sweet smile, playing along. “Oh, don’t worry about me. I’ll sleep just fine once I stop seeing your face every day.”

He grins, but there’s a flicker of something more heated in his eyes, something you recognize all too well. “Yeah, right.”

Karina frowns, sensing the tension that seems to hang in the air whenever you two are in the same room. “Seriously, what is up with you guys?” she asks, tilting her head.

You wave it off, laughing a little too loudly. “We’re just being our usual selves. You know how it is—can’t stand each other.”

But your friends are starting to notice the little things. The way Sunghoon’s gaze always seems to drift in your direction, the way you keep sneaking out of group study sessions with flimsy excuses, only to return looking flustered and breathless. Sunoo even catches you and Sunghoon exchanging hushed words in the corner of the hallway, too close for comfort, and he raises an eyebrow, a mischievous grin forming on his lips.

“Are you two planning a secret mission, or is there something else we should know?” he asks, his tone playful but probing.

Sunghoon just shrugs, but you can feel his eyes on you, daring you to say something. “No mission,” he replies coolly, “unless it’s trying to survive Y/N’s terrible attitude.”

You force a laugh, but the heat in your cheeks gives you away. “Yeah, well, some of us have better things to do than deal with you, Sunghoon.”

But it’s getting harder to pretend, harder to keep the fire between you from spilling over in front of everyone else. Every time he’s near, it feels like the world narrows down to just the two of you, a constant push and pull that’s impossible to ignore. The stolen kisses, the midnight texts, the moments of heated bickering that seem to blur into something more—it’s becoming too much to hide.

And it’s only a matter of time before someone figures it out.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

You grip the sheets of your bed, lip caught between your teeth as sunghoon is under your duvet, tonguing your wet entrance, heat pooling in your belly, felling the intensity of your orgasm creeping up on you.

It’s all cut short when your door bursts open without warning, and Karina barges in, her voice already raised. “Y/N, I swear I’m going to lose my mind—!”

You freeze, your heart stopping in your chest. “Karina!” you squeak, quickly yanking the sheets up to your chin. “What happened to knocking?”

Karina stops mid-rant, blinking at you. “Oh, come on, like I ever knock?” she scoffs, throwing her hands up in frustration. “Anyway, you will not believe what Heeseung just did—”

She’s moving closer to the bed, and you panic, shifting slightly to keep Sunghoon hidden beneath the covers. You can feel him tense up, and his hand slips to your thigh under the sheets, pinching you playfully. You bite your lip to stifle a gasp, kneeing him as a warning.

Karina continues her rant, oblivious. “I mean, he had the nerve to ditch me for practice again, and I’m just—ugh, I needed to vent to someone who understands!”

Your mind races, desperately trying to keep her attention away from the suspicious lump between your legs. “That sounds… really frustrating,” you say, a bit too brightly. “But maybe just, you know, talk to him?”

Karina flops down on the edge of your bed, dangerously close to Sunghoon’s concealed figure. “Oh, I’ll talk to him, alright. I’m just so sick of his stupid excuses—”

Sunghoon’s fingers press into your clit under the sheets. He’s grinning, enjoying the situation far too much. You jab him again, your heart racing.

Karina glances at you, finally noticing your tense posture. “Are you okay? You’re acting weird,” she says, her brows furrowing.

You force a laugh, your voice too high. “I’m fine! Just… woke up. Didn’t expect you to burst in like that.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Since when do you care if I burst in? And why are you so… red?”

You feel the heat creeping up your neck. “Uh, just… hot in here,” you stammer, shifting to keep Sunghoon completely out of sight.

Karina looks like she’s about to press further, but then she sighs, clearly more focused on her Heeseung drama. “Whatever, I just needed to get that off my chest. He drives me insane!”

You nod quickly. “Yeah, I get it. He’s… Heeseung, you know?” Karina gives you a small smile, her frustration easing. “Thanks for listening. And seriously, you look so weird right now.”

You laugh nervously. “Yeah, just tired.”

Finally, she stands up, heading toward the door. “Alright, I’ll leave you to… whatever you were doing. I’m gonna go call him and give him a piece of my mind.”

You nod eagerly. “Good luck with that!”

As soon as she leaves, you exhale in relief, lifting the cover to eye Sunghoon, who’s still grinning like an idiot. “What?” he whispers, amused.

“What?” you repeat, incredulous. “You almost got us caught, that’s what!”

He chuckles, pulling you back down under the sheets. “Relax. She didn’t notice a thing.”

You roll your eyes, but your heart is still racing from the close call. “You’re lucky,” you mutter.

Sunghoon just leans in closer, his lips brushing your cheek. “You love the thrill,” he murmurs.

And damn it, you hate that he’s right.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

It's late, the night air cool against your skin as you lean against the wall outside the school building, waiting for Sunghoon. You don't even know why you agreed to meet him here. Maybe because he seemed so insistent, or maybe because a part of you wanted to see him, even though you’d never admit it.

He arrives moments later, his footsteps heavy as he approaches. There’s a different energy about him tonight—something serious, something intense. His usual smirk is nowhere to be found, and his hands are shoved deep into his pockets. He stops in front of you, a little too close, and you have to tilt your head up to meet his eyes.

“What’s this about?” you ask, trying to sound casual, though your heart is pounding in your chest.

He doesn’t answer right away, his gaze boring into yours like he’s searching for something, something he can’t quite find. You shift on your feet, uncomfortable under his scrutiny.

“Sunghoon?” you prompt, your voice wavering just slightly.

He finally speaks, his tone lower than usual. “I’ve been thinking… about us,” he says, the words almost hesitant, like he’s testing them out.

You blink, caught off guard. “Us?”

He nods, his expression serious. “Yeah, Y/N, us. You and me… whatever this is.”

You swallow hard, trying to keep your face neutral. “I thought we agreed it’s nothing,” you reply, but your voice comes out softer than you intended.

Sunghoon’s eyes narrow, frustration flashing in his gaze. “Yeah, that’s what we said,” he agrees, “but it doesn’t feel like nothing to me anymore.”

Your heart skips a beat, and you feel a lump forming in your throat. You’ve never seen him like this—so open, so exposed. “Sunghoon, I don’t know what you’re getting at,” you say carefully.

He takes a step closer, his expression more intense. “I’m saying that I’ve caught myself… thinking about you. A lot. When you’re not around, I’m wondering what you’re doing, who you’re with. I hate that it bothers me when I see you talking to other guys, and I can’t stand the idea of you being with anyone else.”

You feel a wave of panic rising in your chest. This is too much, too fast. You press your back harder against the wall as if trying to create more distance between you. “Sunghoon, this was never supposed to be serious,” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. “I know, and I tried to keep it that way. But every time I see you, every time we’re together… I can’t help it. I don’t want to help it.”

You shake your head, refusing to let his words sink in. “You don’t mean that,” you insist, more to yourself than to him. “You’re just saying this because it’s… new or whatever. It’ll pass.”

Sunghoon’s jaw clenches, and he moves even closer, leaving barely any space between you. “No, Y/N, it won’t. I’ve tried to stop feeling this way, but I can’t. And I know you feel something too, even if you won’t admit it.”

Your pulse quickens, and you feel your resolve starting to crumble. “I don’t—” you begin, but he cuts you off.

“Stop lying,” he says firmly, his voice carrying a hint of desperation. “You’re scared, I get it. But don’t pretend like this is all just a game to you.”

You feel a flash of anger, your defenses rising. “What if it is, Sunghoon? What if I don’t want anything more than what we already have?”

His expression falters for a moment, a flicker of hurt crossing his face. “Then I guess I’ve made a mistake,” he murmurs, taking a step back.

You feel a pang in your chest, a sharp, unexpected ache. “Sunghoon…”

He shakes his head, cutting you off. “Forget it. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

For a second, you want to reach out, to say something, anything, to make that look on his face go away. But the fear of letting your guard down, of admitting that he might be right, keeps you silent.

He takes another step back, his expression hardening. “I won’t bother you about it again,” he says, his voice cold. “Let’s just go back to pretending like none of this ever happened.”

You nod, though you feel a tightness in your throat. “Yeah, let’s do that,” you say quietly, even though your chest aches with a feeling you don’t want to name.

Sunghoon turns and walks away, and you’re left standing there, the cool night air biting at your skin. You watch him go, feeling something inside you break just a little, and you wonder if maybe you’ve made a mistake too.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The next morning at school, everything feels heavier. The halls are crowded, but it’s like there’s a spotlight following you, and you can’t shake the feeling that everyone knows. You make your way to your locker, avoiding eye contact with anyone, especially Sunghoon.

You don’t see him at first, but you feel him—his presence looming in the periphery. It’s like he’s everywhere, watching you, and it makes your skin prickle with nerves. You busy yourself with rearranging your textbooks, trying to calm the storm inside your head.

“Hey, Y/N,” Karina chirps, appearing beside you. Her usual bright smile is there, but her eyes are curious, searching your face. “Are you okay? You seemed a little… off yesterday.”

You force a smile, gripping your locker door tighter than necessary. “Yeah, just tired, I guess.”

She studies you for a second longer, then nods. “Well, you should have come to dinner with us last night. It was a total mess, as always, but fun.”

You nod absently, not really listening. Your eyes flick over Karina’s shoulder and catch Sunghoon’s gaze across the hallway. He’s leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watching you with an unreadable expression.

“Y/N?” Karina prompts, bringing your attention back to her. “You’re zoning out again.”

“Sorry,” you mumble. “Just a lot on my mind.”

Karina glances over her shoulder, following your line of sight. Her brow furrows slightly. “You’ve been weird around Sunghoon lately,” she remarks. “Did something happen?”

Your heart skips a beat, and you quickly shake your head. “No, nothing. Why would you think that?”

She shrugs, unconvinced. “I don’t know… Just a feeling.”

You’re saved from having to respond when the bell rings. You grab your books and make a beeline for your next class, trying to ignore the heat of Sunghoon’s stare burning into your back.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Class drags on painfully. You can’t focus. Your mind is a whirlwind of confusion and annoyance. You thought sneaking around with Sunghoon would be fun, a game—a way to blow off steam. But now it’s getting messy, and you’re starting to feel the consequences.

When the bell finally rings, you bolt out of the classroom, desperate for fresh air. But as soon as you turn the corner, you’re yanked into an empty hallway.

Sunghoon.

His grip on your arm is firm, and his eyes are intense, searching yours. “We need to talk,” he says, his voice low.

You pull your arm free, glaring at him. “What’s there to talk about, Sunghoon? We agreed this was supposed to be casual. No strings, remember?”

He frowns, clearly irritated by your tone. “Yeah, but it doesn’t feel like that anymore, does it?”

You cross your arms over your chest, trying to steady your breathing. “That’s because you’re making it weird. Just… back off a little, okay?”

Sunghoon’s jaw clenches, and he takes a step closer. “Back off? You’re the one acting all paranoid, Y/N.”

“Maybe because you won’t stop staring at me like everyone else can’t see it!” you snap back, your voice rising. “This was supposed to be simple. But you’re turning it into something… complicated.”

He scoffs, a humorless smile tugging at his lips. “Maybe because it is complicated. Or have you not noticed?”

You hate the way your chest tightens at his words, the way his closeness makes your heart race. “Don’t do this, Sunghoon,” you warn, your voice quieter, more vulnerable than you’d like.

He pauses, his gaze softening just for a second. “Do what?”

“Make this more than it is,” you whisper, feeling a knot form in your throat. “Because I can’t… I won’t.”

Sunghoon’s expression hardens again, and he leans back, crossing his arms defensively. “Fine,” he mutters. “If that’s how you want it.”

You swallow, forcing yourself to stay composed. “Yeah. It is.”

He nods curtly, stepping away, his face unreadable. “Good. See you around, then,” he says before turning on his heel and walking away, leaving you standing in the empty hallway with your heart in your throat.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The next few days are torture. Sunghoon keeps his distance, and you tell yourself it’s for the best. But every time you see him, every time you catch his eyes across the cafeteria or in class, there’s a hollow ache in your chest that you can’t ignore.

Your friends notice the tension. They ask questions, but you shrug it off, pretending everything’s fine. But you can’t stop replaying your last conversation with Sunghoon, the way his face looked when you told him to back off. You hate how much you miss him, even if you’d never admit it to anyone, especially not to him.

One afternoon, as you’re walking to your car after school, you spot him leaning against a tree nearby, talking to some girl you don’t recognize. He’s smiling, that same smile that used to be reserved for your private moments. Something sharp twists in your chest, and you quickly look away, anger flaring up.

He catches your glance and, for a moment, his smile falters. But then he leans in closer to the girl, laughing at something she says, and your stomach churns with a mix of jealousy and frustration.

You grip your bag tighter, feeling a sting behind your eyes. This is exactly why you didn’t want things to get complicated. You turn away, refusing to look back.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Sunghoon avoids you. He’s usually the first one to shoot a teasing remark your way, but he’s silent. The hallways feel strangely empty without his usual jabs, and your friends are starting to notice the shift between you two.

“Are you guys fighting again?” Karina asks, as the two of you walk to lunch. Her tone is half-exasperated, half-amused, but you know she’s genuinely curious. “You and Sunghoon, I mean. There’s definitely more tension than usual.”

You shrug, trying to seem indifferent, but your stomach twists with anxiety. “When aren’t we fighting?” you mutter.

She gives you a knowing look, but thankfully doesn’t push it further. You’re not sure how much more of this you can take without your feelings bubbling over. You’re determined to get through lunch without letting Sunghoon get under your skin, but when you enter the cafeteria, you spot him immediately.

He’s at your usual table, talking to Heeseung, but his gaze is elsewhere. The second you walk in, his eyes find yours, and there’s a fleeting moment of something unreadable in his expression. A flash of frustration? Longing? You can’t be sure.

You take a deep breath and head over, sliding into your usual seat. Karina sits next to you, and for a moment, everything feels normal. But then Sunghoon starts talking.

“So,” he says, his tone casual but his eyes locked on you, “Heeseung, heard you and Karina had another spat. What was it this time? You didn’t say ‘I love you’ enough?”

Heeseung rolls his eyes, but Karina just laughs, lightly smacking Heeseung’s arm. “Don’t listen to him, babe. He’s just deflecting from his own issues,” she teases.

Sunghoon smirks, but there’s no real humor in it. “I don’t have issues, Karina. Just people who like to make things complicated,” he says, glancing at you.

You feel your face heat up, irritation boiling over. “Oh, please,” you snap back. “Like you’re the picture of simplicity.”

He leans back in his chair, his eyes glinting with challenge. “Never said I was. But at least I’m honest about it.”

Your chest tightens. “Honest?” you scoff. “You’ve been playing games from the start, Sunghoon.”

He shrugs, feigning indifference. “Maybe I have. But at least I know what I want.”

His words send a jolt of electricity through you, and you clench your jaw, trying to keep your composure. “And what’s that, exactly?”

He leans forward, his voice dropping low so only you can hear. “You. But you already knew that.”

Your heart skips a beat. For a second, you’re frozen, caught between wanting to slap him and… something else. Something you’re not ready to face.

“You’re such a—” you start, but before you can finish, Sunghoon’s foot nudges yours under the table, and your breath hitches.

You’re hyper-aware of the table between you, the curious glances from your friends, and the heat creeping up your neck. Sunghoon’s gaze is still on you, challenging, waiting for your response.

You can’t help the retort that slips out. “You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?”

He shrugs with a small grin. “More than you know.”

Before you can shoot back another insult, heeseung cuts in, oblivious to the tension. “Okay, what is happening between you two? I feel like I missed an entire chapter here.”

Sunghoon doesn’t even glance at Heeseung. “Nothing’s happening. Right, Y/N?”

“Right,” you reply, forcing a smile, but your voice sounds strained, even to your own ears.

Heeseung and Karina exchange a look, clearly unconvinced. “Sure, whatever you say,” Karina murmurs with a smirk. “Just remember, denial isn’t just a river in Egypt.”

Sunghoon’s lips twitch in amusement, and he finally looks away, leaning back in his chair as if nothing happened. But under the table, his foot is still lightly brushing against yours, sending sparks up your leg.

You bite the inside of your cheek, determined not to let him see how much he’s getting to you.

But you can’t help it—the sensation, the frustration, and the undeniable attraction between you are all mixing into one chaotic storm.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The bell rings, signaling the end of lunch, and everyone begins to gather their things. You stand, trying to shake off the tension still lingering between you and Sunghoon, but Karina has other ideas.

“Hey, Y/N,” she calls, grabbing your arm just as you’re about to head out. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

You nod, feeling a knot form in your stomach. She leads you to a quieter corner of the hallway, away from the crowd. You can tell by the look on her face that she’s not letting this go.

Karina crosses her arms, tilting her head slightly. “Okay, seriously,” she starts, her voice low but pointed. “What the fuck was that back there?”

You blink, trying to feign ignorance. “What was what?”

She rolls her eyes. “Don’t play dumb with me. You and Sunghoon… there was some serious tension at lunch. It was like watching a live soap opera, and I feel like I’ve missed a few episodes.”

You sigh, glancing around to make sure no one is listening in. “It’s nothing, Karina,” you insist, but even to your own ears, it sounds unconvincing.

Karina raises an eyebrow. “Nothing? Really? Because from where I was sitting, it looked like something. A big something.”

You bite your lip, unsure of how much to tell her. “Look, we… we just don’t get along. You know that.”

“Yeah, but this felt different,” she replies, not letting up. “Like, I don’t know, it almost seemed like… there was something more there.”

Her words hit a little too close to home, and you feel your cheeks heat up. “You’re imagining things,” you say quickly, but Karina’s not buying it.

She leans in closer, her expression turning more serious. “Y/N, I’m your best friend. I know when something’s up. And that? That was definitely something.”

You hesitate, torn between the urge to confide in her and the fear of admitting the truth. “It’s complicated,” you finally admit, your voice barely a whisper.

Karina’s eyes widen with intrigue. “Complicated how?”

You swallow hard, looking away. “I don’t even know how to explain it. We’ve just… been hanging out a little more lately. And things got… weird.”

“Weird how?” she presses, clearly not letting this go.

You take a deep breath, trying to find the right words. “We’ve been… hooking up,” you confess, your voice almost inaudible.

Karina’s mouth falls open in shock. “Wait, what? You and Sunghoon?” She looks like she doesn’t know whether to laugh or gasp. “Since when?”

“A few weeks,” you admit, feeling a strange mix of relief and anxiety now that the secret is out.

Karina blinks, taking a moment to process. “And you didn’t think to tell me?”

��I didn’t think it would last this long,” you say defensively. “I thought it was just going to be a one-time thing, but then… it wasn’t.”

Karina’s expression softens slightly. “And how do you feel about it? About him?”

You shrug, trying to appear nonchalant. “I don’t know. It’s confusing. Half the time, I can’t stand him. The other half… well, you saw how lunch went.”

Karina lets out a small laugh. “Yeah, I did. It’s like you two can’t decide whether you want to kill each other or… not.”

You groan, leaning back against the wall. “That’s exactly how it feels.”

Karina nudges you with her elbow. “Just be careful, okay? Sunghoon’s not exactly known for being straightforward with his feelings.”

You nod, appreciating her concern. “I know. Trust me, I’m not expecting anything… much. It’s just… whatever it is.”

Karina gives you a knowing smile. “Alright, but just remember, I’m here if you need to talk. Or, you know, if you need me to kick his ass.”

You laugh, feeling some of the tension ease. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

As you walk back to class, you feel a little lighter, but also more uncertain than ever. Because now that Karina knows, it feels more real. And that scares you more than you’d like to admit.

You pause for a moment, letting your thoughts catch up to your racing heart. Sunghoon had admitted it first, hadn't he? In his own cryptic way, he’d confessed he wanted more than just the back-and-forth, more than just the thrill of the chase. You remember the way he looked at you that day, his eyes full of frustration and something else — something softer, something you weren’t ready to face.

He’d said he wanted you. He’d practically dared you to deny that you wanted him, too. And ever since, you’ve been trying to convince yourself that it didn't matter — that it was just some passing thing, some fling to fill the boredom. But it wasn't. It never was.

You sigh deeply, leaning back against the wall of the building. The memory of his words still lingers like a brand on your skin: "I want you." It had sounded so simple when he said it, so sure. Like he wasn’t afraid of the mess that came with it.

You’ve been too afraid to admit it to yourself, but now… now it feels like you’ve been fighting a battle that’s already lost.

He confessed his feelings first, but you’ve been holding back, afraid to let yourself feel the same. Afraid of what it might mean, of how it could change things between you. You thought you could control it, could manage the situation and keep your distance, but all you’ve managed to do is dig yourself deeper into this mess.

You’re tired. Tired of fighting your own heart, tired of pretending you’re unaffected. Tired of feeling like you're caught in this tug-of-war between desire and denial.

*He’s already put himself out there,* you remind yourself. *He made the first move.* And that thought alone is enough to push you forward, to make you realize that maybe it’s your turn now. Your turn to decide if you want to keep running or if you’re brave enough to let yourself fall.

Pushing off the wall, you feel a wave of determination settle over you. If you’re going to do this, you need to find him and be honest. Not just with him, but with yourself.

Because you don’t want to keep this back-and-forth going, this constant dance of pushing and pulling. You want to know where you stand — with him, and with whatever this thing between you is becoming.

You take a deep breath and start walking, knowing exactly where to find him. And this time, you’re not going to let him get away without an answer.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

You find Sunghoon by the lockers, leaning against the metal with that typical nonchalant pose he seems to have perfected. His head is tilted down, focused on his phone, but he looks up as you approach, sensing your presence. His eyes flicker with surprise for just a moment before his usual guarded expression returns.

“What do you want?” he asks, his voice laced with that familiar arrogance, but there’s something else there, too—an undercurrent of curiosity, maybe even hope.

You don’t bother with pleasantries. “We need to talk,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest. You try to sound firm, but even you can hear the slight waver in your voice. Sunghoon raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued.

“Oh, so now you want to talk?” he retorts, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. “After avoiding me all day?”

You roll your eyes, feeling the tension bubble up again. “I wasn’t avoiding you,” you snap, even though you both know it’s a lie. “I just needed… time to think.”

He straightens up, slipping his phone into his pocket. “Think about what?” he asks, and his tone is a little softer now, less mocking.

You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of your next words pressing down on you. “About this. About us,” you say, your voice steadier now. “I’m tired of all this back and forth, Sunghoon. I’m tired of pretending like there’s nothing between us when we both know there is.”

His eyes search yours, and for a moment, his guard slips. “I told you how I felt,” he says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re the one who kept pretending it was just… nothing.”

You feel a pang of guilt twist in your stomach. “I know,” you admit, meeting his gaze head-on. “And I was wrong. I thought I could just… push it away, ignore it. But I can’t. Not anymore.”

Sunghoon’s expression softens, just a little. “So what are you saying?” he asks, his voice careful, as if he’s trying not to hope too much.

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to stay honest. “I’m saying… I want to figure this out. I want to try… whatever this is between us. But I need you to be real with me, Sunghoon. No more games.”

He takes a step closer, closing the distance between you, and you can feel your heart pounding in your chest. “I’ve been real,” he says, his voice low and intense. “I’ve been real since that night at Karina’s party, and I’ve been waiting for you to catch up.”

You’re taken aback by the sincerity in his words, by the way his eyes seem to bore into yours like he’s trying to see into your very soul. “I’m here now,” you reply, your voice barely a whisper.

Sunghoon takes another step closer, and now he’s right in front of you, his breath warm on your skin. “So what do you want?” he murmurs, his hand reaching up to brush a strand of hair from your face. “Do you want me, or are you still trying to convince yourself you don’t?”

Your breath catches in your throat, and for a moment, you’re not sure what to say. But then you realize you’ve known the answer all along. “I want you,” you admit, your voice steady, finally letting the truth slip past your lips. “But I don’t want to keep pretending like it’s nothing. I want to try… something real. But I don’t want it to be this constant push and pull, Sunghoon. I can’t keep doing that.”

Sunghoon’s lips curl into a small, almost relieved smile. “Then let’s stop playing games,” he says softly, leaning in closer. “Let’s see where this goes, no more pretending. Just you and me.”

You feel a strange sense of relief wash over you at his words, a weight lifting from your chest. “Okay,” you whisper, and it feels like the most honest thing you’ve said in a long time.

His smile widens just a fraction, and he closes the final distance between you, his lips brushing against yours in a way that feels both familiar and new. It’s not the frantic, heated kisses you’ve shared before—it’s slower, deeper, filled with a promise of something more.

And for the first time, you feel like you’re finally on the same page. Finally moving in the same direction.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Over the next few weeks, things between you and Sunghoon change in ways you never could have anticipated. At first, it’s subtle — small shifts that only the two of you notice. You spend more time together between classes, sitting closer at lunch, and texting late into the night. The playful bickering is still there, but it’s softened somehow, more like an inside joke than a battle.

Your friends don’t notice at first. They’re used to seeing you and Sunghoon together, arguing about this or that, so the extra time you spend with him doesn't raise any immediate red flags. But eventually, the signs become too obvious to ignore.

One day at lunch, you’re sitting next to Sunghoon, your legs brushing under the table. His hand casually rests on the back of your chair, his thumb occasionally grazing your shoulder. Jay, seated across from you, narrows his eyes, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Okay, what’s going on?” he asks, his tone teasing but his eyes curious.

You glance over at Sunghoon, who just smirks. “What do you mean?” you reply, trying to sound nonchalant, but you can feel the flush creeping up your neck.

Jay gestures between the two of you. “This,” he says, waving his hand. “You two. You’re being weird. Weird even for you two.”

Karina, who’s been listening in, gasps. “Oh my god,” she says, her eyes widening with realization. “Are you guys… together?”

The table goes silent for a second, everyone turning to look at you. Sunoo’s eyebrows shoot up, and Jake leans forward, looking like he’s trying to solve a particularly complicated math problem.

Sunghoon leans back, crossing his arms over his chest with a grin. “Depends,” he says casually. “What do you think?”

You elbow him in the side, rolling your eyes at his vague answer. “Yes,” you say, looking at your friends. “We’re… together. Kind of.”

“Kind of?” Sunghoon echoes, feigning offense, and you shoot him a playful glare.

“Yes, kind of!” you insist, turning back to your friends, who are now staring at you like you’ve just revealed you’re secretly an alien. “It’s… new.”

Heeseung chuckles. “I mean, I’m not totally surprised,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “You two have been like a powder keg waiting to explode for years.”

Yuna nods eagerly. “Honestly, it was about time,” she adds, and you can’t help but laugh at her bluntness.

Jungwon, however, looks mildly concerned. “So, you’re serious?” he asks, glancing between you and Sunghoon. “Like, actually serious?”

Sunghoon looks at you, his smile softening just a bit, and he nods. “Yeah,” he says, and there’s a sincerity in his voice that makes your heart skip a beat. “We’re serious.”

Your friends take a moment to process this. Then Jake grins. “Alright,” he says, raising his glass of soda. “To Y/N and Sunghoon. The enemies-to-lovers arc we didn’t know we needed.”

You laugh, and everyone joins in, raising their glasses. It’s strange, in a way, seeing everyone so quickly accept what feels like a massive shift in your life. But it also feels… right.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Over the next few days, things become more obvious. You and Sunghoon are no longer trying to hide. He reaches for your hand in the hallways, and you let him. He kisses you on the cheek in front of the others, and they pretend to gag but smile knowingly when they think you’re not looking.

You catch Karina’s eye one afternoon, and she gives you a grin that’s part smug, part excited. She leans over, whispering, “So… you finally admitted you like him, huh?”

You smile, shrugging a bit. “Guess so,” you say, and she laughs, nudging you with her elbow.

The hardest part, strangely enough, is getting used to the change yourself. It’s still weird to not have to hide how you feel, to be able to smile at Sunghoon without wondering if anyone is watching. But with each passing day, it gets a little easier.

And it’s not like everything is perfect. You and Sunghoon still argue — of course, you do. That’s just how you are. But there’s something different now, something that feels less like anger and more like… passion. Like you’re both on the same side, even when you’re bickering.

There are moments when you catch him looking at you from across the room, a small smile on his lips, and you feel a warmth spread through your chest. And in those moments, you know — this is real. This is right.

Your friends have stopped asking questions. They’ve accepted that this is your new normal, and honestly, so have you. The only thing left to do is see where it takes you.

taglist: @awqken @hollyoongs @enhastolemyheart @wonnienyang @skzenhalove @slvrnm @lovesangyeon @velvetkisscs @soobieboo @jakeflvrz @woorcve @moonpri @blockbusterhee @yjwsgf @doublebunv @moon4moony @woniebae @moon368 @jakeswifewithtwokids @love4hee @ikeryn @univershoon @indigoez @ramenoil @iilwji @riribell @ilabjungwon @tunafishyfishylike @psh23xie @toodeloosoo @leov3rse @onlyhyunjin @nyxtwixx @mnxnii @whateverhoon @jayrelics @laurradoesloveu @heeswif3y @enhalxvr @yunhoswrldddd @nikiswifiee @aiiselle90210 @lixiebokie @lelsforlino @eneiyri @punchbug9-blog @babystrlla @hee-yunie @hoonics @notevenheretbh1

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nkogneatho · 10 months ago

Text

"𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐊"

𝐉𝐉𝐊 𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊

—cw: lactation kink, mentions of pregnancy, dirty, nasty, depraved stuff, vaginal sex, period oral mention, monsterfucking in kuna's (sukuna's is way too dirty), dry humping, drinking breast milk obv, not proofread (this is too long and i have an event tomorrow)

—a/n: i have officially lost it. is it obvious i have lost it? idk if this is the best or the worst thing you will ever read but this is very depraved and nasty. like...aaaaaaaaaahh okay i am normal. i put my big titties non existent breast milk into this so please read it all and i hope you enjoy.

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

— satoru is the man who is always up for something new. especially, if it involves pleasing you because he's a good husband and that's good what husbands do. he knows how to pull out the naughty parts out of you, but he had to work his way up.

"I am just saying. It helps. Believe me," your husband was arguing with you.

"Cut it out, Toru. I am not letting you suck my boobs."

"But why?"

"Because it's gross and weird." The moment those words left your mouth, he audibly gasped.

"Did you just call our baby's food gross?" You rolled your eyes. He's always like this. It's not like you weren't curious of his reaction when he does taste you, you were just scared that he'd be disgusted. Plus the post pregnancy hormones are worst as they make you emotional over the silliest things.

"Please, baby? Just this one time. I'll be a good boy I promise." You hate when he addresses himself as if he's an angel. He is a mischievous devil inside. But rather than having him pester you for the rest of the night and ruin your hard earned sleep (since your baby's cries always wakes you up) You thought maybe let him and just get it over with...

"mmph ffhuck." His moans vibrated through your skin, "mhmm god ywo twaste shwo good." The moment he said that, all the insecurity left your body, and heat forming between your legs.

"Ngh—toru..." you felt so embarrassed—so dirty when his eyes locked with you. Your lashes fluttered and you looked away but you swore you could feel him smiling on your nipples. Your husband really digs out the emotions you never thought existed within you.

He was pressing them together, playing like he had just found a new toy. You had never seen so much amusement in those blue eyes as much as of now. Bright pink tongue lolling out to taste the squirting liquid when he squeezed both your breasts together.

"Feels good, right baby? ah!" *slurp* He wiped the dripping milk at the end of his lips with his tongue, and you couldn't process. You felt so wet. And he knew you very well. After all, you've been together for so many years.

"Lay down baby. I'll fuck you while I drink you." You never thought you'd ever hear that sentence but there it was.

𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈

— toji has always been an experienced man. he has definitely tried a lot of things. but there's always areas to expand knowledge and new things to learn. he wouldn't do anything that makes you uncomfortable but he knew the person he was marrying wasn't ordinary. you, deep down, were just very dirty like him.

You had your legs stretched on the sofa, upper body resting on your husband's lap. Since you guys had a baby, it was very rare for you rest. Being a parent is the best thing in the world but it also feels worse than a 9to5 sometimes. Today was a good day though. Your boy was sleeping soundly and you had some quality time to spend with each other. Well, it's hard to go on a date at this time, but you both were just happy to be in each other's presence.

Toji was mindlessly flipping through some channels after he got bored halfway through that one movie he was watching. His emerald eyes fell on your ipad screen where you were scrolling through what seemed like a baby product websites.

"I thought we had bought everything for little gumi." You looked up at him then back to the screen.

"Oh this isn't for gumi bear. This is for me. These are called breast shells."

"What? Show me." He took the ipad from you and carefully observed the product you were supposedly buying. "So what is this a fashion accessory for mommies now?"

"Hehehe," you giggled. "No, baby. My breast oversupplies sometimes and it ruins my dress. They prevent that." You watched him as he sat there in silence, poking his tongue inside his mouth. Within two seconds, he flipped you on the sofa, and gently climbed on you.

"Why are you buying that shitty thing when I am right here?"

"Toji, what do y—OH MY GOD!" he pulled out both your breast pretty quickly, all thanks to your maternity clothes. He knew you won't stop him. He knew you would get wet when he'd do that. And he was right on the money. He started sucking so hard, you felt...foreign. He had sucked them a hundred times before but watching him flick your nipples with his tongue and the milk trailing down, fusing with the tastebuds until it goes transparent and his adam's apple bobs when he gulps it. fuck.

Toji's obvious boner grinds against your heat as he suckled on those pretty tits. The wet patch on your panties were now staining his grey bottoms too.

"Overflowing down there too, mama? Hmph," he chuckled. You were to focused on the feeling of his lips on your nipples that you forgot to see his right hand moving down to cup your heat.

"Ngh—twoji," you mewled.

"Don't worry, baby. I'll take care of you." Thick fingers circled your wet clit, "Ya don't need those shells or whateva when i am right here." He is a great husband. He even saved you so much money that you were gonna spend on those silicones.

𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔

—suguru worships you. it isn't obvious but you can feel his devotion towards you. the way his droopy eyes lights up when they fall on you, or his ears turn red when you kiss him. he loves how you take him in, struggling a little at first because he is girthy and a bit long, but when he bottoms out, you finally exhale and relax your walls around him. holy shit. he loves it. but this time, something different struck his curiosity.

"fuck. you sure we can do this baby?" He asked.

"'s okay, sugu. doc said we had to wait like six weeks and it's been three months." You were so busy in your post pregnancy life that you barely got time for just each other. You hadn't even kissed properly in months. "plus," you reached for his cock, "i need you." Those last words came off as a whine. You needed him and who is he to deny you off your pleasure.

You were on top of him as you positioned his boner to your entrance. He watched as your cunt swallowed him. This time, not struggling as much. Thanks to dilation.

"anh! suguuu~ mhmm missed your cock." You moaned so beautifully, he found himself falling in love over and over again. Yet, something was different. Normally, his eyes would focus down on how you well you take him as you ride it, but today he had found something rather more interesting. Your big tits bumped against his face and he couldn't take his eyes of those nipples. Those glistening nipples. He could see droplets of milk settling and honestly, they looked so fucking tempting. He let his intrusive thoughts win as you felt a warm sensation on your boobs.

"haaa—fuck. sugu, mhmm—no, it's gross" He didn't reply. He didn't need to. Pretending he didn't hear that was just right. Why would you even think anything about you is gross. He would kiss the soil you walked on.

"so fucking sweet. my sweet girl." *sucksucksuck* "these are f'me too, right? these were made f'me. hmm...sweet *suck* fucking *suck* girl.

congratulations. you just unlocked his new kink.

𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎

—nanami is a gentke lover. we all know that. he is only mean in bed if you ask him too. that alone needs a lot of convincing because he is scared of hurting you. he is not too kinky but you can't say he's completely vanilla. he enjoys wrapping a tie around wrist as be eats you out. he also found himself getting hard when you called him "daddy." So yeah, he is a little kinky. But not in a million years Nanami Kento would've thought he would get hard watching you wipe the excess milk off your breasts.

"So i just put her down to sleep," you walked out of the baby room, with your left tit out, wiping it with a napkin. "What do you want for lunch—Kento?" He immediately broke the staring contest he was having with your boobs and looked at you.

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"Is everything alright? Is there something on my breasts?"

"Yes—I mean no. of course not." It was rare to hear panic in his voice which only made you mroe curious. You walked closer to him, hsi breath heavier than usual.

"What's wrong, Ken? Talk to me." shit shit shit. you were too close. he could feel your wet boobs rubbing against his cyan blue shirt. If you got any closer, you would loathe him for having a boner for such thing. He was ashamed of himself.

"Why are you looking away, baby? Do you not like me anymore?" Fuck. You're so stupid. Not like you? That man is in love with you so much. He cannot contain himself. You tried to get closer but he tripped on the foot of the couch and felk on it upright, and you on top of him.

oh.

OH.

You could feel it between your legs. You didn't even kiss him and it's not like you were seducing him earlier so you connected the dots pretty quickly on why he was hard.

"hmm hmm" you giggled. "is this what makes you hard you, ken? my lactating tits?"

"don't say it out loud, please." it was so fun seeing him all flustered. you adjusted yourself on top him as you thought of something very dirty.

"wanna taste? i know you're curious." he hesitated a bit, but a man like him can only go so high with his walls before he breaks them and let's his wife take control.

He started off with a few licks, testing his feet into the water. It was sweet with a hint of tanginess. The moment he felt it squirting a lot when he sucked, he fell in love. He acted like a kid who had just discovered magic. You chuckled between your heavy moans as you witnessed him trying to fit in your tits in his mouth as much as he can. You start grinding on him and it only makes him more desperate. He taps your thighs, a cue to pull your dress up and throw it in the floor. You watch as he hungrily latches his lips on your nipples quickly again. Your dress was not even off your arms yet. Nanami had discovered his obsession when he watched you squeeze you tits to squirt your milk on him.

𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀

—sukuna didn't even think it was possible for him to have a child as him being a curse and you being a human but here you were. he was in love with you. maybe his expression for love was different than others, but you felt it. be wasn't an embodiment of rage, but rather an overflowing confidence in his skills. That's where the cockiness came from. Existing for over a 1000 years, he thought he had experienced everything. Well...he was wrong.

"So...you just out this device on your chest and it gathers your milk?"

"Yes. It's called a "breast pump" and not a device," his vocabulary according to the new era was still weak but he was working on it.

When you detached the the vaccum of the breast pump from your boobs, Sukuna's eyes were fixated on them. He loved your tits. He had his fair share of biting and sucking on them till they were sore, but today they looked so plumped and so...succulent??

"What are you staring at? You want to drink it too or what?" You joked as you closed the lid of the bottle.

"Yes." You stared at him. Two minutes of complete shock snd silence.

"What?"

"What? You said if I want to drink it, and I answered."

"Yeah but—"

"Be a good wife, my little human. Good wives obey their husband's wishes." (Please let the feminist in you shut up for a sec and enjoy cuz i know he'd say smtg like this)

"Kuna...I don't know. It's nasty, y'know?"

"I think you're forgetting that I am a monster, baby. I ate you out during your those days of the month. This is less dirty." He yaps a lot someone shit him up before I die from embarrassment.

Sukuna laid you on the bed gently after getting you undressed. For the first time in so.many years, you were feeling shy again in front of him. It was quite an amusing sight to enjoy for him. He summoned a mouth on both his palm and licked your nipples. He wasn't sucking yet, but the hint of sweetness still laced his tastebuds.

"I am going to squeeze your breasts in my mouth now, okay?" Why did he feel the need to announce it? Weren't you already so flustered?

The tongues on his palm licked the skin of your tits before squeezing it when his mouth crashed against your nipples, spraying the milk. Sukuna sometimes forget you're a human. You're delicate unlike. The strong force of the suction made you whine and moan so loudly, it vibrated through the walls of the bedroom.

"mhmm I did not know my beloved wife enjoyed such depraved acts," he smirked when his thighs brushed against your bare pussy. you were dripping wet.

"Don't worry, little one. Let me please you. Hope you have pumped out enough in that bottle of yours. Because, I am going to milk you dry today."

taglist: @aztecbrujeria @sachiyoh @hellkaiserinphoenix @his-saiko @kokonoiscoconut @numbinyourchest @shewritesallnight @valiantmilkshakekoala @oreo-creampie @kutabaka @gojoxxluv @desi-the-blue-eyed-kakushi @chronic-claire-universe @katsukichu @shutyourwhoremouthbecky @mostlyhornyandsad @leelee-66 @stargirlstabber

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iggyywrites · 3 months ago

Text

Keep Up!

Pairings: Wolverine/Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader

Summary: Logan knew moving in with Wade was going to be a bad idea….his next door neighbor doesn’t help with that either

Warnings: 18+ fic, fem!reader, angst, hurt/comfort, smut, age gap (reader is in her 20s), mentions of alcohol, male masturbation, Logan listens to reader getting fucked, daddy kink, Logan fingers reader, p in v penetration, creampie, making out, nipple play.

An: No one make fun of me for not being able to do Wade’s witty remarks justice, I am just a girl.

Logan knew this wasn’t a good idea.

There was virtually no timeline that existed currently where living with Wade fucking Wilson was a good idea for Logan. He could barely handle speaking to him for thirty minutes, let alone sharing a living space with him.

However, behind the man’s rapid fire tongue that had a copious amount of shit talking to go with it, he was genuine, and as much as Logan hated to admit it…

He didn’t really have anyone in this timeline but Wade.

So, after quite a bit of groaning and grumbling under his own breath, he finally agreed to moving in with Wade, which didn’t take long at all, seeing as he came to this timeline against his will with nothing but his bright yellow hero suit on his body.

To Logan’s surprise, things weren’t terrible his first week there. Wade was annoying, that much was true and inevitable, however he had his own shit to do, which had him out of Logan’s hair most of the time, leaving him all on his own in the tiny two bedroom apartment.

Logan was starting to realize that maybe all of this wasn’t as bad as he cut it out to be. Things started to feel particularly good on the Friday night following the end of his first week there. Wade was nowhere to be found, he had the living room to himself and a nice bottle of whiskey to grant him the sweetest dreams (or lack there of) meaning he could simply enjoy his own company in the comfort of silence that was rare living with Wade. He sighed softly as he sat back, legs spread wide as he took a sip of his drink, sinking down into the couch in a pool of pure bliss-

A knock at the door ripped him away from all of that almost immediately.

He groaned softly, lifting his head as he turned to look at the door, brows furrowed for a moment as he silently threatened whoever it was behind it to knock it again. When they did, he turned his head in the opposite direction to face the clock on the wall, noticing that it was already going into the later hours of the night.

No one should be knocking their door this late.

By the third round of knocks to the door, Logan was fixing his posture, annoyance coursing through his veins at the disruption of his night. Whoever it was that was choosing to knock this many times on their door was in for it at this point.

However, Wade was beating him to it. The man swiftly slipped past Logan, pushing the older man back down into the couch, forcing Logan to fall back with a low groan, the gesture not helping with his growing annoyance.

“She’s here! She’s here!” Wade squealed out like an excited child, skipping and clapping his hands together as he made his way to the door.

“Who the fuck is that-“ Logan’s words were cut off but Wade practically hissing at the man as he whipped his head around to face him.

“Keep your fucking voice down! This is one of the only things I look forward to and I will not let Arthur Morgan ruin this for me. So shut your mouth, and drink your go-go juice, alright angel?” Wade seethed out as he gestured towards Logan’s bottle of whiskey before he turned around, tucking a strand of invisible hair behind his ear before he sighed softly, reaching forward and opening the door.

That’s when you walk in.

Behind the door is you. You’re pretty, young, bright smile plastered on your face, cheeks beaming with happiness as you bounce on your heels, snacks and drinks practically spilling from your arms as you struggle to hold them. Logan doesn’t stop himself from craning his neck forward to get a look at you, watching as you stare up at Wade like he’s your favorite person in the entire world.

Both you and Wade squeal in a way that sounds way too similar, and if Logan wasn’t so fucking confused right now he’d most definitely comment on it.

“There she is! Come to Daddy my little buttercup!” Wade groans as he lifts you up into his arms. A noise that’s a cross between a groan and a giggle leaves your lips as he squishes you to his chest, your eyes fluttering shut as you let him squeeze you tight.

“Wade! You’re…crushing me..” you wheeze out, all while having a bright smile on your face.

“Crushing ensues when you don’t visit me for two weeks. I was planning on shimmying my tight little ass down the air ducts to land straight into your bedroom so we can finish these last two episodes” Wade hummed our matter of factly, casually keeping you pressed against his chest as he kicked the door shut and carried you into the house before setting you down.

Logan’s watching the entire thing play out from the couch, eyebrows raised as he watches someone finally match the man’s hyperactive energy levels.

“I had a cold! I didn’t want to get you sick” you giggle out softly as you turn to face him as you walk into the apartment, still completely oblivious to the other man sitting on the couch.

“Princess have you taken a look at this mug? Influenza sees me and it runs” he grins at you whilst pointing at his face, which only earns a gentle nudge to his side with your elbow.

You finally turn towards the man on the couch, a look of surprise on your face as you take in his face, his form. It doesn’t take very long for you to come to the realization that whoever it is that’s been sitting here this entire time, is one of the most attractive men you’ve ever seen.

You never thought in your entire life that you’d see the Wolverine in person.

“Oh! How rude of me…I didn’t know you were busy Wade” Your voice is soft as you apologize, eyes wide and worried that you’d interrupted something you had no business stepping into. Logan can already see the way your sneaker clad feet are turning to leave, giving both him and Wade an apologetic smile.

“Oh no you don’t. You aren’t using that sweet little understanding bit with me. If Wolvie wants to join in on our weekly Vanderpump Rules watch party, then he can. If he doesn’t, then the honey badger can kick rocks” Wade bends down a bit, giving you an assuring nod as he places his hand on the small of your back.

Logan rolls his eyes as he throws back the rest of his whiskey. “I’m way ahead of you asshole” Logan grumbles out, annoyed with many things already.

“Hold on there beautiful, don’t be rude. Everything that is good and pure in the world is standing in the middle of our apartment and you aren’t going to introduce yourself?” Wade scoffs out in disbelief, his words making you roll your eyes as you give him another nudge.

“Wade it’s fine, he doesn’t have to-“ you try, seeing just how little patience the man had from the few words he’d given you since you walked in.

“My name is Logan, I live here now” he nodded, his words short and brief.

You hate yourself because him acting this way is only making you want him more.

You inhale deeply before you give him a soft smile, the snacks you’d brought still clutched close to your chest, fingers pressing against the crinkly material of the various packages as you nod.

“It’s nice to meet you Logan. My names (y/n). I hope to see you around the building more often” you beam, your response a bit too bubbly and excited for someone who’d been hit with the driest, most bland introduction from a man probably ever.

Logan watches you closely for a bit, eyes taking in your bright expression, your excited eyes that are practically shining with stars in them. You’re young, and eager and Logan knows exactly what kind of girl you are just by the way you’re smiling at him. He’d run into a million different versions of you at bars and clubs, out on the streets when he was on missions, anywhere that he was able to be perceived, he ran into someone like you.

That in and of itself lets Logan know that he needs to stay far away from you.

He gives you a nod before pushes himself off of the couch, lazily grabbing the bottle of whiskey as he begins walking out of the living room towards his bedroom.

He can already hear your feet stepping forward on the wooden floor, so he braces himself for what he knows what’s coming next.

“You’re more than welcome to stay! I know it’s corny but the show is actually very entertaining” you giggle out softly as you offer yours and Wade’s tradition to Logan as well.

“I’m good sweetheart” he mumbles out without even turning around, raising his hand up as he gives you a back handed wave, rounding the corner to his bedroom. “Was nice meeting you” he makes out before slamming his door shut, the noise making you flinch.

You frown softly as you turn to face Wade. “Was it something I said?” You whisper out, worried you might have offended the man

Wade rolls his eyes at his roommates reaction, turning towards you as he extends his hand out, his palm going nearly rigid as he gives you a stiff pat to the head. “We can’t all be as excited about life as you are, angel. Life sucked the fun out of that one before you probably learned how to drive” he sighed out before he pulled you over to the couch.

“Now! If I don’t have Lisa Vanderpump meddling in the love lives of her alcoholic lounge employees in the next five seconds I am going to blow this entire complex up. Let’s get to it sugar plum” he nodded to himself as he forces you down into the couch, grabbing his remote and getting right down to the festivities of that fine Friday night.

You however, had a particularly harder time than usual paying attention to the shitty reality tv show that you and Wade bonded over, and there was only one person to blame.

Logan.

Logan is shocked to be the only one awake the next morning.

His head is pounding from all the whiskey he drank, and he knew he’d be nursing quite the hangover from it all. What he didn’t know however, was that Wade would be slumped in his bed much longer from a night with you than he was.

He’s alone in the kitchen for maybe two hours when Wade finally emerges from his bedroom, a long drawn out groan following as he massages his temples, eyes screwed tight due to the bright sun spilling in.

“Jesus fucking Christ….can’t anyone afford some fucking curtains here? I feel like I’m staring into Satan’s asshole” He groans out, eyes finally opening to watch the mountain of a man standing over a bowl of cereal in the kitchen.

“Why hello there sunshine, did the whiskey bottle tug you out of bed early this morning? You’re almost never conscious while the sun is still up” Logan rolls his eyes at his roommates words, bringing the bowl to his lips and slurping up the rest of the milk before he put the empty bowl into the sink behind him, large hand going down to wrap around his coffee mug.

“Look who’s talkin’….you and your friend seemed to have just as much fun as I did” he sighs out, voice gravely and rough.

Wade smiles brightly as he nods, making his way into the kitchen as he lets out a happy sigh. “A (y/n) hangover would bring you to your knees grandpa….although I have the feeling you might not be too opposed to that with how your filthy eyes were eating her up….shes cute isn’t she? Single too. If Vanessa hadn’t swept me off my feet and stolen my heart I would have been ten toes deep into her by now” Wade rambles out as he searches the pantry for something to fill his stomach with.

Logan isn’t shocked to hear that you’re single, and in the best way possible of course. You were very very attractive, however the way that you looked at him let him know everything he needed to know about you.

“I don’t think I asked. She’s not my type” Logan sighs out softly before taking a sip of his coffee.

That wasn’t true at all, not entirely at least. Logan found you attractive from the moment he laid eyes on you. Only an idiot could look at you and try to convince themselves that you weren’t a beautiful girl. However, Logan knew what kind of girl you were. You were a young girl who probably had some sort of fantasy to fuck a ‘dilf’ (as Wade called them) and you’d bat your pretty lashes and pout your lips to get Logan to melt for you, but that was only the half of it. You only wanted to fuck him, to have someone experienced work on your body just to leave and venture out on your own once you were done with him.

Logan was old and miserable and hard to deal with, all things that he was very aware of. Being with him was not a fucking cake walk, and he knew that those twinkles in your eyes when you saw him were all driven by raging hormones that would dissipate once you realized how much of a piece of shit he was.

Logan was too old for this, and he was too old for you.

“Not your type? Of course she’s your type! She’s everyone’s type. That’s like saying Beyoncé isn’t your type and I will not allow you to disrespect the queen…the bee hive is fucking scaring” Wade practically whimpered out before he let out a groan.

“Is it the age gap? Because if it is, they sell pills for that sweetie. It’s a normal part of life that we all go through! There’s nothing to be ashamed of and I’m sure she would understand-“ Wade’s words are cut off by Logan lifting up his hand, the sharp sound of his claws shooting through his knuckles filling the air, making Wade yelp and flinch.

“Keep talking and I swear to god I will cut your dick off every single day so that you don’t even get the chance to use those pills” Logan practically growls out.

“Relax! Jesus Christ you are violent. I’m starting to rethink giving you my spare room asshole” Wade breaths out before he sighs, lifting his hands up in defense before he speaks again.

“Look…all I’m saying, is that a bit of a crush is starting to brew, and she’s a sweet girl! I know for a fact that baby making factory is filled with dust and fucking cobwebs, don’t you think it’s time to get those gears runnin’ again?” Wade rolls his arm like a train as he puts on his best southern accent, which only further annoys Logan.

“She doesn’t even know me. She’ll get over it” Logan nods confidently, ignoring every word that leaves Wade’s mouth as he finishes his coffee, putting it in the sink where he put his cereal bowl earlier.

Wade groans in annoyance. “I am being such a good wing man right now, hooking you up with her? Most people’s friends hook them up with Freddy fucking Krueger and they still end up getting married. I’m giving you a real life fairy from a fucking Barbie movie and you’re turning her down??” Wade practically pleads with the man as he watches him starting to leave the kitchen.

“Hook her up with someone else. I’ll be back later” Logan groans out, not at all wanting to continue this conversation with his roommate any longer.

“Yeah fuck you too grandpa. I hope you get hit by a fucking bus on your way out” Wade groans out as he shovels a spoonful of cereal into his mouth, the man clearly taking offense to Logan not wanting to get to know you better.

“We’ll see if she lets you off this easy…” Wade mumbled under his breath, a soft smirk on his face.

Wade knew you better than anyone, and he knew that you were a whole different ball field of sweetness that Logan was most definitely not ready to handle.

And sweet you were.

By the end of the week, Logan was honestly starting to forget about you and the small cyclone you’d set off in his head ever since he’d seen you that night. He was busy with things around the neighborhood and trying his best to get used to the new world that he was living in. His plate was full and he had no time to think about the silly girl that lived next door to him.

However you didn’t let him forget for much longer.

Because come Friday night, your knuckle is rapping against the door like clock work, interrupting Logan’s alone time in the same way you had the week prior. It’s a silent gesture that it is his cue to leave and give you and Wade the living room for the night.

Logan just about catches a glimpse of you when Wade opens the door, and he notices very quickly how different you look from last time.

Last time, you’d opted for a pretty casual look. Wade had mentioned that you worked at a bar in the city, so he could only assume you came straight from there. Your denim shorts were cute, fit your ass well and he was sure you got many tips from those alone, and your purple halter top went well with your skin tone, but it was nothing fancy or out of the ordinary, just simply a girl in some clothes.

Now? Now you were putting in some effort.

The linen white dress you wore fit you snug at your middle, pushing out your tits a bit, hugging you in all the right places before falling down and flowing out right above your knees. You even went as far as to wear a bit of makeup, your eyelids sparkling a bit, lips glossy.

You’d put in all that effort, just for him.

“Jesus Christ…” Logan mumbled under his breath in disbelief, hating that you’d gone this far for him.

“Are you kidding me! I get your sweaty work clothes and he gets this?? You know he takes the animal thing seriously right? Pees to mark his territory and everything. I am much more pleasant, I promise” Wade complains as he leads you into the apartment, eyes falling down to the small container of cookies in your arms.

“Are these….fuck off. I have been begging you for weeks, and suddenly Jacob from twilight moves in and you’re making them??” Wade gasps out, face slowly turning up to look over at Logan as you giggle softly.

“I made them when you first moved in so I wanted to do the same for Logan…I hope you have a sweet tooth?” You questioned carefully, giving Logan a shy smile as you outstretch your arms to hand the cookies to him.

Wade is watching Logan like he’s your fucking guard dog, ready to pounce on the man the second he even tries to say something mean to an angelic soul like you.

It makes Logan sigh softly, eyes drifting down to the cookies before looking back up at you. “My doctor said I’m not allowed” he lies before bringing his glass of whiskey to his lips, acting as the biggest contradiction as he finishes the remnants of it before he picks up the bottle and turns around to leave.

“Don’t make any noise. I’m going to bed” he mumbles out once more before he slams his bedroom door much like he did the first time you arrived.

Wade groaned as he brought his hands up to pinch the bridge of his nose, quickly reaching out and placing a hand on your soft, exposed shoulder.

“Thank god. I was getting worried I wouldn’t have all of these to myself. Come on, Tom Sandoval doesn’t wait for anybody” he nods his head towards the tv, urging you to sit with him and distract you from how utterly stupid that lie was that Logan spit at you without a second thought.

Wade sighs as he notices the soft pout on your face, your fingers nervously toying with the ends of your dress as you struggle to relax, your head probably overflowing with every reason why Logan would hate you. He reaches out, tugging you closer to rest your head against his shoulder.

“Hey, he’s just a tough one to crack. He’ll come around soon peanut, I promise” he assured you before he shoved his hand into the bowl of cookies, pressing one to your lips.

“Now, say ahh. You deserve to eat one after all the hard work you did, little Betty Crocker” he teases you, making you giggle softly as you shoo his hand away before taking the cookie to eat yourself, finally relaxing into the couch as you let out a gentle sigh.

Logan really hoped that it would stop there, but it doesn’t.

He knows you aren’t stupid, everyone on the entire planet knows that the Wolverine doesn’t go to the fucking doctor. He could drink battery acid if he wanted to and he’d be fine, so him using the excuse of his doctor telling him he couldn’t eat sugar to not eat your food was a crock of shit, but he did it for two reasons.

One, because he didn’t want to have to accept anything from you, it would only had fuel to a fire that Logan knew he couldn’t put out once burnt too brightly. Two, was to kill any glamorizations you had for being with someone of his age. He was an old man, despite being a fucking killing machine, he was an old man. All he wanted to do was drink, smoke, fight a bit when the time called for it, and sleep, and he really could not fit a little girlfriend into that schedule, nor could he rob you of what you wanted and deserved with someone your own age instead of him.

Logan was starting to come to the conclusion that you probably weren’t as smart as he thought you were.

Because unfortunately, you don’t stop there.

For about an entire month, the weeks are filled with you constantly knocking on the door. It slowly goes from you bringing treats on your Friday nights with Logan, to you popping up on various days thought out the week instead.

Logan quickly learns that your love language is food, and you show that by constantly trying to feed him.

First it was the cookies, then you were knocking on his door way too early in the morning, beaming with a bright smile as you shoved a container of breakfast sandwiches into his naked chest.

“These are for you! I made enough for both you and Wade” you smile brightly, plump bottom lip tugged beneath your teeth as you give him a wave before he can deny the food or give it back.

After that, you were dropping off lunch for him. He wasn’t entirely sure how you were doing it, but you managed to always knock whenever Wade wasn’t around, most likely because the two of you were so close you had Wade’s schedule practically memorized, which meant that you were forcing Logan to interact with you whether he liked it or not.

“I’m off to work and I made too much! I hope you like spaghetti” you giggle softly before giving him another one of your signature waves, skipping off down the hallway to leave for work, once again leaving Logan dumbfounded as he stares down at the Tupperware of warm food in his hands.

It was getting to the point where you were practically keeping both him and Wade fed almost completely, rarely failing to share the food you’d made for yourself with them, and always sprinkling in some of your freshly baked pastries and desserts throughout all of that.

The worst part about it? Logan isn’t sure he’s ever had anything so tasty in his entire life.

You seriously knew what the hell you were doing behind a stove or at the oven, and it almost pissed Logan off to admit how much he appreciated the literal meal plan you’d set up for him.

As much as he likes it though, Logan could see exactly what accepting all of this was doing.

He saw it in the way that you’d linger longer and longer every time you dropped something off. What was once a shy little smile and a quick goodbye had now turned into you going into lengthy rants about work or the latest recipe you were stuck on, which Logan found himself always sticking around and listening to despite the fact that he rarely spoke.

That alone made your eyes twinkle, and he could hear how quickly it made your heart beat every time he leaned against the opposite side of the door from you, a soft sigh leaving his lips as he prepared himself for the words that would come out of your mouth on that day.

Logan gave an inch, and you took a mile, and that was the problem. Any attention he gave, he knew you’d take to the extreme, looking far too deep into the details of him being slightly less of an asshole that he usually was.

And on a night where Logan was laying in his bed, his mind replaying the countless times you’d stood at his door to give him food, using it all as an excuse to talk to him for a few minutes and get his attention on you, he knew it was time to cut you down from the root, and stop any dreams you had of the two of them ever amounting to anything more than next door neighbors.

He knew you’d be back eventually, it was only a matter of time until you were back with your latest meal for him. He found himself reciting what he’d say to you over and over again, cementing it into his brain as he pressed his palms against the island top one morning, eyes staring off into space as he mindlessly grabbed his coffee and took a sip.

knock knock knock!

The sound is familiar and it practically haunts Logan in his fucking dreams, the soft sound of your fists rapping against the door. He sighs softly because he knows you’re behind it, big bright smile on your face as you hold god knows what in your hands to gift to him.

“Morning Logan!” You beam, bright eyed and bushy tailed as you give him a small wave before you look down at the container before stretching your arms out to hand to him.

“You seemed interested last time I mentioned that breakfast quesadilla recipe I was working on…and I think I got it!” You’re so excited, and Logan lets out a soft sigh as he eyes you carefully before he pushes his hand gently against the container so that it’s back against your chest.

“I…look kid….I don’t…” his words trail off, feeling bad as you simply stare up at him with those big eyes and that happy smile, looking at him as if he’s the only person you want to see right now, waiting for him to say whatever it is he can’t do.

“You’ve gotta stop this” he tries to reason with you, his forearm pressed against the top of the door as he stares down at you.

You furrow your eyebrows as you watch him, shaking your head a bit as your voice goes low. “I….what?” Your voice trembles a bit, because you know what’s happening, you’ve been here before. You’ve gotten yourself into this same fucked up mess of liking someone so much that you couldn’t even see that they didn’t like you back, going on a power trip of showering them with so much affection that you didn’t even realize they’d been trying to stop you from the very beginning.

It was happening again.

Logan knows that he can’t let you down easy. You’re too sweet, too understanding, and he knows that if he isn’t blunt with you, giving you the harsh truth, that you’ll just feed into the nice things that he says rather than looking at the bigger picture.

So he sighs, looking over your head for a moment before he finally looks back down at you.

“You’re just…you’re not my kind of girl, alright? Someone like you, could never be with someone like me and that just is the way it is….so quit it with the food deliveries, alright?” He’s stern, speaking to you like a child who refuses to listen, voice growing louder and rougher as he towers over you.

“There’s nothing you can make for me or do for me that will make me want you” He adds salt to the wound with that one, wanting his words to get through to you loud and clear

Logan knows it’s already coming, those big eyes filling with tears that make your eyes shimmer like swimming pools, mouth opening and closing as you struggle to find the words to respond with before you give a slight nod, quickly looking away once the tears spill out into your cheeks, your hands coming up to wipe them away roughly.

“I…fuck…I’m sorry..” is all you say before you quickly rush away from the door, mortified as you open your own apartment door and slam it behind you, the sound making Logan groan softly before he closes his own door.

Of course you apologized. Here he was, crushing your dreams for his own sake and you fucking apologized. It only further cemented how wrong you and him were if he were to ever give you a chance, you were too good, too nice, and Logan could only hope that you found someone else who could give you what you wanted and what you deserved.

As for him? He wanted to focus on the relief he’d soon feel settle in now that he didn’t have to face you every other day anymore. He could only hope that you little stunts would come to a halt after all of this.

Logan doesn’t really have to hope for you to not come around, because he doesn’t see you for a long time after that.

At first he assumed it would just be a day or two until you were back for Wade, the two of you never going long without at least chatting in the hallway for a quick recap of your day or your week, however it’s the end of the week and neither Logan nor Wade have heard from you at all.

There are no knocks at the door, no more pastries or yummy meals with your name written all over them, it’s almost as if you don’t even live in the same complex anymore.

And when that Friday rolls around and you never show up either? Logan knows he’s fucked up.

Logan is thankful that Wade isn’t too freaked out over you being absent that week, seeing as he’d explain that this wasn’t entirely out of the ordinary for you. Although Logan knew what it was that pushed you away from the apartment, he was more than willing to let Wade believe work had drained you a bit more than usual that week, pulling you away from him.

By the third week though? Wade is pissed.

It’s Friday night, and he’s pacing the living room in front of Logan, his arms crossed as he shakes his head.

“I don’t get it! She’s only ever gone two weeks without coming by and that’s because she had a cold, and she told me! I haven’t heard from her in so long, I feel like I’m a fucking military wife waiting for her husband to write her back!” Wade whined out, desperate for an answer behind your disappearance.

Logan couldn’t even look at Wade, guilt eating away at him as his fingers wrapped around the ice beer bottle in his hand, simply letting the man walk around searching for answers when the reason behind his friends absence was sitting right in front of him.

“Fuck this. If she wants to stop being my friend she’s going to have to man the fuck up and tell me herself. Im going over there myself” he huffs out in annoyance, moving towards the front door.

Logan is on his feet before Wade can make it any further, stepping between him and the door as he shakes his head.

He knew that what happened needed to come from him, not you.

“Slow down…I…I know why she’s not coming around anymore” Logan makes out slowly, his words makes Wade raise his eyebrows.

“Anymore? What the fuck did you do, kill her or something??” Wade’s eyes are wide, and it makes Logan roll his eyes at the dramatics before he shoves him over towards the couch.

“Go sit down” he orders before he follows behind, singing softly as he sits next to Wade, avoiding his eyes as he speaks.

“She was coming around a lot and I…I didn’t want her getting the wrong idea so…I just…I told her she needed to stop” Logan shrugged nonchalantly as he gave a horrible retelling of what happened between the two of you.

Wade on the other hand, knew you very well, and he knew that you were probably the most understanding person on the entire fucking planet, so Logan had to probably say some fucked up shit to make you avoid them like the fucking plague, so bad that he probably made you-

“You fucking idiot. You made her cry, didn’t you” Wade visibly gets angry when he comes to this conclusion, making Logan snap his head in his direction quickly because how the fuck did he come to that conclusion so quickly?

“I…so you did talk to her?” Logan questions carefully, his words making Wade groan loudly as he stands up, pressing his face in his hands.

“You are….oh my god you are probably the dumbest person I have ever fucking met. Charles Xavier would be very ashamed of this behavior Logan!” Wade practically sobbed before he shook his head once again.

“You do realize she’s just a girl, right? She’s not some villainous asshole trying to do experiments on you or something. A simple ‘I’m not interested’ would have sufficed” Wade groans out in annoyance before he walks back towards the door.

“I am going to try and save one of the only friendships I have, and leave you here to think about how you are going to save ours, because after this stunt I am not sure I will ever let you touch me again” he huffs out softly before whipping his head away from him in disgust before he swings the door open, slams it shut and leaves to your apartment, leaving Logan there by himself.

Wade’s words echo in his head, making him realize that you really are just a girl, a girl who had an innocent crush that he brutally stepped on and smashed into a thousand little pieces when he could have easily told you he wasn’t interested in you.

Logan hated it, but he felt guilty.

He’s happy to hear that you and Wade were able to mend things together, the two of you opting to spend weekends in your home rather than his from now on, leaving Logan to the peace and quiet that he’d always wanted.

Although, it isn’t what he wanted, it isn’t what he wanted at all because he finds that he’s missing something. He’s missing the smell of your cookies or cinnamon rolls or whatever the fuck it is that you bring over, he’s missing the sound of yours and Wade’s laugh across the way as he tries to sleep, and he especially misses the little front door chats you and him would share whenever you stopped by for him.

Because over the course of the time that he’d lived there, he’d see you at least once every week, your bright smile filling his days and making him feel warm inside.

But now the last memory he had of you was you crying in front of him before running away.

Logan tries to drown out those annoying thoughts as he usually does, with alcohol. He comes home drunk on a Saturday night, stumbling in through the front door as he tugs off his leather jacket, kicks off his boots and stumbles into his bedroom to fall face first into his bed.

He’s able to forget about you for a bit, annoyed that your pretty face had been plaguing him for days on end. Right now he just wants to sleep and enjoy the warm floaty feeling that comes with a good cup of-

“Oh my god” Logan makes out the faint sound of your voice through the thin walls of the apartment.

He realized the first night he’d moved in that his bedroom was adjacent to yours when he was going to sleep and he could hear you shuffling about your bedroom.

Every night he’d hear little things, sometimes he’d hear the small sound of your music while you got ready, or he’d hear you giggling softly to someone as you spoke to them on the phone, he’d even heard a loud thud followed by an annoyed groan from you, which he could only assume was you stubbing your toe or running into something.

Logan had heard you a lot, and while most times he was too drunk or tired to ignore it, the sounds he was hearing now were….they were foreign for you. He’d never heard your voice pitched that way, high and whiny…he wondered if you were okay, were you crying?

“Fuck…fuck!”

There it was again.

It had Logan frowning as he turned onto his back, staring up at the ceiling as he squinted a bit, straining to hear more of what was going on.

“That’s it baby…so good for me…” another voice groaned out, muffled and lower, too deep to have been your own. That, paired with a slow rhythmic thumping, and Logan wasn’t confused anymore.

You were getting fucked.

Logan tried very hard not to think about you this way, splayed out on a bed in front of him, eyes red and glossy as you beg for him to give you more, needy for any sort of attention that he'd give you. He knew that you were something he couldn't feed into...

Because he knew he'd like it too much.

Yet here you were, moaning so pretty for another fucking man with a bit of dry wall separating the two of you, and it was making Logan's head spin.

His chest swelled with different emotions, anger, annoyance, jealousy, envy.....

Lust

You sounded so fucking pretty, and as much as he hated that it was someone else making you feel that way, subjecting him to a fucking audio porno, he couldn't deny the tent that was growing in his jeans.

Logan groaned softly as he propped himself up, eyes low as he stared down at his throbbing cock through his jeans, begging to be touched, begging to take the place of the idiot that was in your bed making you moan like that.

Another loud moan rumbled through the walls, making Logan's eyes flutter shut and roll to the back of his head as he took in your noises.

He wondered how you'd sound for him, what you would say, if you would beg for him. God, you probably sounded so fucking good when you begged, so pretty, so fucking sweet for him. You were so eager for him, so eager to please, there was no doubt in Logan's mind that you would be the perfect girl for him.

You were practically begging him for it the weeks prior.

His hand made its way to his jeans, undoing his belt and popping them open before tugging his cock out, hissing softly as he laid back, head resting against the pillow as his fist wrapped around his length, slowly working on his sensitive skin as he let his mind travel to more thoughts of you as your moans sang him the symphony that matched perfectly with it.

His fist moved up and down over his length, spreading his precum as he thought about what you'd taste like, how you'd feel pressed against his tongue while he did just this. He imagined you'd taste perfect, the best pussy he's ever had if you'd ever let him.

Another string of moans makes its way into his bedroom, and it has him bucking his hands up into his fists, growing closer as he chases his orgasm to the sound of your voice.

Logan felt like a fucking pervert, stroking his cock while you were getting fucked by someone else right next door. That could have easily been him had he not fucked things up with you royally, he thought.

"Im gonna cum..." you mewl out, Logan can practically hear the pathetic little pout on your lips as you announce it, and he can't stop himself from groaning out softly as he bites back a moan in fears that you'll hear him too.

"Me too baby..." He growls out between gritted teeth.

He's fucking his hand at this point, the sounds of your moans and visions of you under him driving him closer to where he needed to go, he finally cums when he hears you moan loudly, knowing that was it. Thick ribbons of his pearly cum fly out of him, making the man sigh softly as he slowly rides out his orgasm with a few strong strokes from his hand.

Logan is old and gross and truly can't be bothered with the clean up, so he opts to grab a nearby t shirt and clean himself off before he tugs his jeans off, tosses them into the corner with the rest of his clothes and turns onto his side, pulling his pillow over his ears in fears of you and that jackass going another round while he sleeps.

He wants to sleep before embarrassment can take over, because he knows what he's done is beneath pathetic. He would much rather deal with it all in the morning.

Because despite how embarrassed he feels, he needs to orchestrate some sort of plan to speak to you.

Logan knew that getting you to talk to him was not going to be an easy feat. You ran from him any time you two ended up in the hallway together, and you made it a point to never be in the same place with him for two long.

So he had to be smart with this, and he needed a full proof way to get you to speak for him for more than a few seconds.

He figured trying to convince you as himself was a lost cause, there was no way you would even give him the time of day to ask for a bottle of water let alone talk to you about his feelings.

However, you would most definitely listen to him if he were Wade.

Now, Wade most definitely would not do this for Logan. There was no way in hell Wade would risk your feelings for that, he was way too protective over you for that. He was weary of Logan when it came to you now, and rarely brought you up unless Logan asked....

Which he did quite a bit now.

He was able to snag Wade's phone while he was taking a shower, getting ready for one of his little dates with Vanessa (they were going to meet up at a bar and then fuck the entire weekend).

Logan had limited time, because Wade was already on Rewrite the Stars off The Greatest Showman soundtrack, so he had to work fast.

He stood outside of the bathroom with the door cracked to swiftly put the phone back when he was done, the man groaning in annoyance as he clicked through Wade's endless screens of stupid games with clickbait-y ads that are designed to lure children in to find his messages.

When he finally finds them, he's quick to click the icon with a picture of you and Wade and the contact name angel baby.

Logan knew he had to put on his best Wade impression for this, so he inhales deeply before his fingers slowly tap across the screen.

me: Hey baby cakes! Wolvie's gone for the night, vanderpump at mine? Like old times?

angel baby: Hi! You sure? I don't mind doing it here!

me: I have wayyyy better drinks here. See you soon!

angel baby: fineee I'll be there after work

Logan lets out a breath he was holding for what felt like forever before he quickly slips Wade's phone back into the bathroom on the sink counter, closing the door slowly before rushing out of there to make himself seem as casual as possible.

Wade is out about twenty minutes later, a clear pep in his step. It makes Logan chuckle softly, bringing his beer to his lips as he nods towards his roommate. "Hot date tonight huh?" Logan hums out.

Wade hums softly as he nods, biting his bottom lip as he gives Logan an excited smile. "You bet I do. I am getting laid tonight buddy, I refuse to be the roommates that everyone thinks fuck...unless" his words trail off as he gives Logan a look, wiggling his eyebrows (or lack there of) as he opens his hands and gives him a little spin, shaking his ass at the end.

Logan chuckles as he puts a hand up. "Im good" He refuses before taking another sip of his beer, watching as Wade reaches down to grab a shot glass and a bottle of tequila, pouring some out for himself as he throws it back. "Liquid courage how I love you...its your loss man. I'll go give myself to a woman who actually knows how to fuck" He nods to himself before pouring out another shot, throwing it back and giving Logan a wave as he makes his way to the front door.

"See ya Monday Wolvie!" He chirps out as he leaves with a peace sign, his antics making Logan chuckle softly as his eyes drift over to the bottle off tequila.

He could use some of that with having to face you.

Logan sighs as he gets up, pouring himself a shot and throwing it back before he pours one more and throws that back before he tosses the bottle back into its reserved cupboard, moving to the couch to wait for your inevitable arrival.

knock knock knock!

It comes almost an hour later, the sound making Logans heart seize up, recognizing the familiar knock as if it were his own fucking heartbeat. He inhales deeply, stopping by a nearby mirror and checking himself out before he exhales deeply, moving to open the door.

"I'm a little late! I had to stop at the store to get the proper necessities-" Your words are cut off when you finally look up to see Logan instead of Wade, your face dropping as your mouth hangs open for a moment.

Logan want's to die just from that look in your eyes because you look fucking terrified, you even go as far as taking a step back as you give a nervous laugh.

"Oh...sorry Logan..is umm...is Wade around? He told me to come over..." You quickly explain, quickly fearing that the man will have more mean words for you for knocking on his door again.

It breaks Logan's heart because you don't have that twinkle in your eye anymore, nor do you have that excited smile on your pretty face when you see him and it makes him feel sick to his stomach.

"No he actually just left, you just missed him" He explains with a shrug and a soft apologetic smile.

You clear your throat awkwardly as you nod slowly. "Uhh...No worries! He probably had something to do....could you maybe tell him I was here when you see him? Sorry for bothering you" You mumble out before giving him a tightlipped smile and an awkward wave before you sigh, turning to leave at that.

Bothering him? God, he had really fucked up, hadn't he?

"Wait!" Logan calls out, stepping out into the hallway to catch you before you've made it into your own apartment.

You turn to face him, raising your eyebrows at the man. He groans softly as he stares at you for a moment before he looks back into the apartment, inhaling deeply as he remembered Wade's words

She's just a girl.

"I don't uh...know much about that Vanderpump thing but...I'm not busy, if you wanted someone to watch with tonight?" He sighs out sheepishly, giving you a small smile.

You stare at him for a moment, a soft frown on your lips as you clutch your snacks closer to your chest, using them as somewhat of a shield for your poor heart. You couldn't trust Logan, and you weren't sure if your heart could take anymore of the mean things that he said to you.

"You don't have to pity me or anything....I'm not a child, Logan" You explain to him, voice small and quiet as your frown deepens, your hand coming down to grip your door knob as you let out another sigh.

"Have a goodnight..." You try your best to end it, and it makes Logan groan softly as he quickly rushes towards you, putting his large hand over yours on the doorknob, stopping you from opening it further.

The sudden closeness makes your eyes widen, staring up at the man as his large hand squeezes over yours, the feeling making your heart flutter with excitement.

“I….please….let me makeup for being such a dick the last time we spoke…you deserve it” he nodded, eyes staring deeply into yours as he gives your hand one more squeeze.

You swallow nervously as you stare up at him, hating how warm you feel with him being so close, especially after he was so fucking mean to you all those weeks ago.

You sigh softly before your hand slowly falls from your doorknob, giving Logan a small nod.

“Yeah….okay” you agree with him before you look over to the opened door of his apartment, giving the man a small smile.

“Lead the way Wolvie” you tease him gently, the sound of your playful voice making Logan chuckle softly with you as he sighs in relief, leading you back to his apartment.

Logan can kiss his lucky stars over the fact that you actually agreed to coming back to the apartment with him. Wade was right when he said you’re the must understanding person on the planet.

He finds it hard to focus on the show when you’re this close to him, head resting against the back of the couch as you babysit a bag of sour patch, giggling softly whenever one of the insufferable Los Angeles characters complain about their boyfriend of their girlfriend cheating on them with someone else in their friend group.

It’s hard to focus when you’re this close to him, because he’s never been with you this way before.

You had been on Logan’s mind almost 24/7 since he first met you, and now that he had you with him alone, he didn’t know how to talk to you or how to interact with you. He felt nervous that he would open his mouth and say something stupid.

To sum it up, he was almost 200 years old yet a 20 something year old girl knew how to communicate her feelings better than he did.

You hum softly as you finally look up at him, pouting softly at how stiff the man looked in your presence. "You alright Logan? We can watch something else if you want" You hum out softly as you move to sit criss crossed on the couch, turning your body to face his.

Logan shakes his head as he reaches for the remote, knowing that he would not be able to focus with the sound of three Californian girls fighting over a man named Todd. "Let's talk for a bit....I wanna get to know you more" Logan sighed out softly as he turned to face you a bit more as well, watching as your face beams with excitement over his interest in you.

"Im an open book....what do you wanna know?" You open up as you take a sip of your beer, giving Logan a soft smile.

That was all it really took for you and Logan to actually hit it off, the mans anxiety melting away at the thought of talking to you once he realized how easy going you were. He was able to learn so much about you within the hours that you and him spoke, and before he knew it, it was almost 2 in the morning and you two had been talking since around 9.

"College sucks...Im literally either there or at the bar....its why I find nights with Wade so important" You sighed softly as you explained, your face falling as you pouted a bit.

Logan smiled fondly at you, the many easily seeing how you wore your feelings on your face, you were so expressive, so clear with how you were feeling and open with your emotions.

You truly were an open book.

Logan licked his lips as he brought his beer to his lips, taking a sip as he watched you carefully. Something burned inside of him. something that desperately wanted to grill you about what it was he heard that night through the wall, who it was you were with, if you were still seeing him or not.

"Yeah? Any time for dating then?" He hums out, pink tongue darting out of his mouth to lick his lips as he settles back into the couch. One of his legs were trapped along the couch, caging you in as the other rested on the floor, knee bent as his hand rested on it, legs spread right in front of you.

His question catches you off guard, eyes widening a bit as you try to register if he's asked the question that you think he asked, and if he is, does he mean it in a friendly way?

He has to, right? A man doesn't tell you that he doesn't want you just to grill you about your love life.

You inhale deeply as you try to find the right words to say, wondering how deep you should get into the current state of your love life.

You give Logan a shrug as you take a sip of your beer. "I try....my love life is in shambles though....I truly can't remember the last time I had a decent date" You frown, your words honest as you scrunch your nose in disgust as you think back to the horrible men you've dated.

Logan raises his eyebrows in disbelief at your words before he nods slowly, taking a sip of his drink before he sighs. "Mm...the things I heard through the walls would beg to differ Princess" Logan shoots back without a second thought.

Your eyes widen as you think back to a few nights ago, throwing your head back as you find yourself cringing in embarrassment over the fact that Logan had fucking heard you.

"You heard that? Logan oh my god that is....that is so disgusting on my end I am so sorry, I promise it won't happen again" You ramble, making a mental note to never fuck in your bedroom again as long as Logan was living across from you.

You were going to be having shower sex only.

Logan chuckles softly as he shakes his head, holding his hands up in defense before he speaks. "Oh no need, you sounded like you were having quite the time....don't stop on my account" He smirks at you.

Knowing that you had not the slightest inkling that he was stroking his cock to the very sound of you getting fucked.

You groan softly as you take a healthy swig of your drink, Logan watching closely before he hums out once more.

"New boyfriend?" he questions again, eyes growing darker as he uses the conversation as a gateway into more important things.

You scoff softly as you shake your head. "God no....he's just a guy from my psych class....we met at a party and he took me home and...im sure I can spare you the gory details" You giggle softly before you sigh, moving to rest your head against the back of the couch as you watch the man across from you.

Logan nods slowly, bottom lip tugged beneath his teeth as he listens to you before he speaks.

"Just a guy hum....interesting" Logan nods slowly as he tosses back the rest of his beer before he sets the empty bottle down on the coffee table in front of the both of you, strong hands resting along his denim clad thighs, eyes never leaving yours.

"Forgot about me already baby?" he drawls out, voice low and gruff, dripping with lust as he watches you closely for your reaction.

His tone and words make you perk up, breath hitching in your throat as you face the man completely. His words shoot straight down to your core, making you swallow back a whine as you stare at him with a dumfounded expression.

"I....Logan..." You sigh out softly, your hands resting on your knees and balling into fists as you physically try to stop yourself from doing something you knew you couldn't do.

Logan chuckles softly as he shrugs. "It's true....you forgot all about me princess....it's okay though, I deserve it don't I?" he questions, watching as you silently watch him from across the couch.

When you don't answer, he's quick to pull it out of you. "Answer me baby" His demand makes you flinch softly and you quickly nod before you respond.

"Yeah...you did deserve it..." You agree with him.

Logan nods with you, a soft hum leaving his lips as he watches you. "I did...was so mean to you and you were just being the sweetest thing to me..." He hums softly, watching as you slowly grow softer for him with every word he spoke.

"It's alright baby....did he at least make you cum? I heard you, you know....when you said you were there? sounded so pretty...." He groans softly, a prominent tent forming in his jeans at the mere thought of your moans.

He's shocked when he hears a tiny one leave your lips, your eyes shooting down to his growing cock. It makes him smirk softly, pride filling his chest as he moves his hand down to palm himself before he nods at you.

"Eyes up here baby...thats it..." He nods slowly when he finally has his eyes back on yours.

"Now...answer my question" He urges you once more, his voice deliciously low and gravely, the sound making you squirm in your spot on the couch.

You inhale deeply before you shake your head. "I faked it..." You mumble under your breath, fighting the embarrassment that threatened to creep up your spine.

Logan felt like he had died and gone to heaven.

Because not only were you here with him, but that idiot that got the chance to be with you couldn't even make you cum properly...which only left more room for him to come in and do the job properly.

"You poor thing....I was afraid of that..." He groaned softly before he pat his hand along his lap, calling you over to him.

"C'mere peach...let daddy show you how a real man is supposed to make you feel..." He hummed out softly.

It was all you needed to come crawling over to him like a bitch in heat.

You moaned softly once you were settled down in his lap, either one of your plush thighs straddling his lap, arms wrapping around his neck as you stared down at him with needy eyes, bottom lip tugged between your teeth.

Logan groaned softly, strong hands coming down to grip your waist, tugging you closer as he leaned in, pressing his nose against your collar bone and growling at how fucking good you smelled.

"Atta girl....go on then baby, give daddy a kiss..." He ordered once more.

You wasted no time in pressing your lips to his, moaning softly into his mouth as you tugged at the hair at the nape of his neck.

You're so...fucking sweet, and sugary, and the dulcet sounds of your moans drives Logan absolutely insane, the older man gripping your waist tightly as he pushes his tongue into your mouth, tainting you for anyone who ever dares to kiss you after he has.

Logan groans into the kiss when he feels you rocking your hips back and forth, grinding your pussy against his bulge.

"Needy huh? Want daddy to help you baby? Yeah?" He groans out, your forehead resting against his as you nod, breathing heavily as you continue grinding down onto his bulge.

Logan chuckles softly as he nods, his hand going around your middle before he flips you around, tugging you down so that your back is pressed against his chest, his chin resting on your shoulder as he hums softly.

His hands trail down your body slowly, the little top you have on has a tie at the front, one that if Logan so much as flicks, will come undone. It makes him smirk softly as he takes one of the strings between his thumb and pointer finger, tugging at it slowly until your boobs bounce free, making him hiss softly.

"Fuck, look at that....such a pretty girl...." His hands look so rough along your soft skin, calloused fingers running along either one of your tits, cupping and massaging them delicately before he brings your nipples into his finger, twisting them slightly before he goes back to cupping them all over again.

You're so sensitive, so responsive to his touch. Your hand goes up to cup your hand over his thats working on your boobs, your hips bucking up into nothing as your other hand goes up and around Logan to hold onto his head.

"Logan...please..." You moan softly, your words making Logan smirk softly as he nods, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek.

"Im here baby....just enjoying all of you first" He explains before his hands go down your body.

Soon enough, he's unbuttoning your denim jeans, one of his hands coming up to raise your hips as he tugs them off your legs with your panties in one swift move before tossing them somewhere else in the living room.

Logan lets out a low gasp when his neck cranes down against your shoulder to look down at the mess between your legs, his strong hands creeping down to where you need him the most, your own hands pressing against his thigh.

"Fuck princess....so wet already....all this for me?" He hums out softly.

Either of his hands go down between your legs, pressing right against either one of your lips as he massages you softly, the feeling making your eyes roll back as your head falls against Logan's shoulder.

He smirks softly, his head coming down to attach his lips to your neck as one of his hands comes up to hold your hips down, pressing you flush against his body whilst the other starts rubbing your clit slowly.

"Such a good girl...letting daddy apologize for being so mean...thats it baby...fuck...thats it...." He urges you on further as his skilled fingers slowly works on your clit, your moans like music to his ears as he gives you exactly what you needed.

"Daddy...im....fuck....don't stop" You whine softly, gripping his wrist as he continues playing with your pussy, the feeling making your eyes roll. You're damn near drooling and all the man is doing is rubbing your clit for you.

It makes Logan chuckle softly, his fingers speeding up as his lips unlatch from your neck so he's able to look down at you, not wanting to miss the fucked out state of bliss written all over your face that's coming to you all because of him.

"Come on baby....cum all over your daddy's fingers, give it to me princess" He growls, picking up the pace as he begins grinding his hard on into your ass from behind, matching the way your hips roll to chase the rhythm of his fingers.

You're squirming so much at this point, a moaning mess as Logan holds you down by your hip, forcing you to take what he gives you, not giving you the chance to run away from the pleasure he so desperately wants to give to you.

"Oh my god! Im gonna fu-ahhh!" You moan loudly, back arching off of Logans chest as you cum hard all over his fingers.

Logan moans with you, watching in awe as you become a puddle of nothing but moans and gasps as you come down from your high, his fingers working slowly on your swollen pussy as your arousal drools out onto his fingers, forcing them to slip around and lose their place as he works on you.

"That's a good girl...thats daddy's good fucking girl....thats it....im right here baby...daddys gotchu" He praises you, soft whines and moans leaving your lips as his rough hands move from your pussy to instead run along your body, holding you, massaging you, making it known that he was indeed there with you.

It takes a few minutes for you to catch your breath properly, when you do, you finally feel Logans very large bulge pressing into your ass.

He's too busy pressing kisses along your throat and jaw, working his way up to your cheek and the corner of your lips to make sure you were there with him and comfortable.

"Logan..." You mumble softly before you roll your hips down against his cock, your eyes locking with his as you stare up at him with a needy glint in yours.

Logan raises his eyebrows at your actions, holding onto your hips as he guides you to grind down onto his lap.

"You want daddy's cock baby? Is that it?" He questions, his words alone making you moan softly as you nod, your hand coming up and tugging his head down to press against your lips.

"Please fuck me daddy..." You moan against him, pushing your tongue into his mouth as you swallow his groans.

He nods against you, silently reaching between the two of you to undo the button to his jeans and pulling his cock out, tongue playing with yours as he sits you both up a bit before he grabs both of your thighs, lifting you up and making you gasp softly.

"Don't worry princess...Daddy's got you..." he assures you before he slowly sinks you down onto his cock.

Both of you moan softly in unison, his length filling you up completely, making your eye roll back as as he settles you down onto his lap.

"Logan...L-Lo...you're so big...fuck" You gasp out, struggling to even form words properly as Logan's arms wraps around your waist, holding you close against his chest as he slowly starts to fuck up into you.

"You can take it baby...fuck...such a tight little pussy...so fuckin' good for me...takin' me so well angel" Logan growled against you, lips pressed against your back as he found a steady rhythm in fucking you.

You're a moaning mess. Logan is so big, and he fills you up so well, better than anyone ever has, and it makes you feel like you'll fucking cry because of how good it feels.

Logan growls every time your pussy tightens around him, wrapping him up and keeping him so warm. He’s forgotten how fucking good it feels to be this close to someone, hearing such pretty moans….

Logan thinks he could get used to this….

Logan thinks he could get used to you.

“Come on baby….give it to me…cum all over my fuckin cock” He urges you, wanting nothing more than to feel your pretty pussy spasm on his length.

You gasp softly, struggling to hold your head up as he defiles you from down below, making a mess of your pussy as he pounds into you like a wild fucking animal, the feeling foreign to anything you’ve ever experienced for. He’s like a machine, and his skilled cock as your head spinning.

“Daddy…daddy I…I can’t…you’re gonna make me cum-“ your words are cut off by just that, a loud shriek ripping through your lungs as you cum hard all over Logan’s cock just like he asked of you.

“That’s my fuckin’ girl, fuck yeah…you want Daddy to cum inside you baby? Yeah? Want Daddy to fill up this pretty pussy?” He growls out, his own eyes fluttering shut at the mere thought of cumming inside your pussy, filling you up and making him as your own.

You’re nodding like an idiot, all dumb and cock drunk as the pleasure fades and the overstimulation takes place, making your mind fuzzy and the world around you dull, the only thing you’re able to focus on being Logan.

“Please…want you to cum inside Daddy….wanna be yours” you moan out softly, your eyes rolling back as you allow Logan to continue fucking up into you mercilessly, turning your brain into mush with every thrust.

“All mine baby…all Daddy’s…fuck…that’s it baby…let daddy fill up this little pussy….fuckfuckfuck” Logan growls out, his moans strangled as he pulls you down roughly onto his lap, his cock twitching with every spurt of cum, painting your insides with his seed as his large hands press your sweaty body flush against his.

You both sit there like that for quite a while, his hands massaging your skin, thumbs rubbing small circles into your abdomen as you both try to catch your breath, the come down sucking all of the energy out of both of you while you enjoy the warmth of being connected to one another.

After a moment passes, you’re finally the one to break the silence, a gentle smirk on your face as you turn around a bit to face Logan.

“So….I guess it’s safe to say I am your type of girl after all?” You tease the man as you recall the words he’d said to you all those weeks ago.

It makes Logan groan softly as he cringes at himself, finally giving in and resting his chin against your shoulder, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek as he nods.

“Yeah….I guess you are princess…”

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