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tonycries · 10 months ago

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Hope They Catch Us - G.S.

Synopsis. When you’re on-screen, it’s always a rivalry to see who’s best - you just never thought that it would be the same struggle in bed.

Pairing. Actor! Gojo Satoru x Co-Star! Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, rivals-to-lovers, co-stars to lovers, unprotected, oral (fem receiving) slight exhíbitionism (stuff with cameras), marking, praise, Satoru is actually down BAD, cúmplay, tabloids, lowkey fluffy at the end, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.5k

A/N. YA GIRL IS BACKKKK ;D Also happy belated three months to this blog hehehe.

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---

You hated him. Oh, how you hated him. All because of a red-hot rivalry that had sparked ever since the two of you took the industry by storm. And everyone from Hollywood’s bigshots to your adoring fans knew that no matter where Gojo Satoru goes, you were sure to never be within a ten-mile radius.

Well, usually.

“I…shit- I’m in love with you.”

Because avoiding Gojo like a plague really isn’t saying much when said plague was currently sitting right next to you. Eyes boring into yours, signature smirk plastered on his face while he rattles off a disgustingly sweet confession - all on the set of your latest movie.

Somehow, in a cruel twist of fate, your co-star.

And to add insult to injury, this wasn’t just any movie - it was only set to be the biggest romance film of the summer. So not only did you hate to tolerate Gojo, you had to pretend to be in love with him.

Perfect. Great. Wonderful. If only the check wasn’t as tempting as it was, you think he would’ve successfully driven you to an aneurysm already. Especially considering that the scene tomorrow was-

“CUT!”

That snaps you out of your little reverie, bringing you back to the still very ongoing film shooting. You risk a glance at the disgruntled director, cheeks aching from the sappy fake smile you had to hold for this scene.

“Something wrong?” you bat your lashes deceivingly innocently. You knew exactly what was wrong. And one look at Gojo - dressed to the nines and huffing sulkily at being interrupted in the middle of his monologue - told you that he did as well.

“It just doesn’t feel real.” The director shuffles his script, voice dropping to a sigh at your confused gazes. “The spark, it doesn't feel real.”

“What?” you silently thank your years of acting for keeping your voice steady. You squirm in your seat the longer the silence stretches. This cozy little café they rented out too tight, Gojo’s fingers intertwined with yours too hot. Too soft.

“C’mon. You are in the perfect romantic set-up.” the other man gestures wearily at the café, at the dim-lighting and the proximity of your seats. “So why do you two look like you want to just- strangle each other?”

“Ooo kinky~”

It’s the first time Gojo’s spoken up since the scene was ended early and honestly that was enough to have you fulfilling the director’s suspicions.

“That.” you give him a pointed stare. “That is probably why.”

And that just draws out such an infuriatingly light chuckle from Gojo, as he sprawls all over his chair with the audacity of someone that owned this entire set. “Lighten up. You’ve told us, n’ in the next take I’ll fix it. Easy peasy.”

If only it was that “easy peasy”. The director was anything but satisfied, running a hand through his hair frustratedly. “It’s not just me, even the public is worried whether your ‘feud’ will get in the way of such intimate scenes. You-” he jabs a finger your way. “-better pretend like you want to kiss him senseless and you-” whirling now to Gojo. “-better act like you’ve wanted nothing more for years- Not to mention tomorrow’s sex scene-”

Ah, right. The sex scene.

How could you forget? It might not be a walk in the park to giggle and make heart-eyes at Gojo, but to actually pretend to have sex with him? All on camera? Curse whoever wrote this damn script. You could’ve almost laughed at the universe’s absolutely awful sense of humor if it hadn’t been for your paycheck - and the next words that tumble out of Gojo’s pretty mouth.

“We’ll ace it, you just watch.”

You hurriedly snap your eyes to meet Gojo’s, sending him a look that says “behave”, in a way that very much makes him not want to. Twinkling with such dangerous mischief that makes your stomach flip as he hums, “Or- I’ll ace it.”

God, was it a battle to remain professional. The only thing stopping you from snapping back being the way he squeezes your hand mockingly reassuringly - to which you send him a death grip back, of course.

“Oh? Care to elaborate, Mr. Gojo?” the director asks, eyes flitting between the two of you. And you can’t even laugh at the rest of the staff for almost toppling out of their seats in an attempt to hear his answer - because you are, too. Mind whirling as you lean closer, wondering just what nonsense would come out of Gojo’s mouth.

“Well, you could say…” he trails off suspensefully, like the smug bastard he is. Looking right in your eyes as he flashes an unfairly pretty smile your way. “I’m irresistible like that.”

Exactly the type of nonsense that would come out of Gojo Satoru, of course. And one glance at the director told you he was thinking the same thing. He was going to be the death of you. You can’t help but breathe out shrilly, “You fucking-”

“My apologies, director, but our leads have a scheduled interview soon. Rest assured, we will be early on set for filming tomorrow.”

You were definitely giving Nanami a raise after this.

Because if looks could kill then Gojo would be six feet under and you’d be dancing on his grace already - and you let him know. A little over twenty times, actually, as the both of you are hastily escorted away from the set for an “emergency interview”.

It was a flimsy excuse, you both knew, but Nanami hadn’t exactly felt like cleaning up a crime scene today. Instead, settling for a swift escape, the director calling out after you two to “Look like you’re gonna rip the clothes off each other tomorrow.”

Rip the clothes off each other, huh?

With the way things were going, you couldn’t be surprised if you ripped him a new-

“C’mon, sweetheart~” Gojo gets out through giggles, that familiar cackle echoing in the narrow hallway leading to your trailer. “Y’know I was just having a little fun with that ol’ man.”

He saunters unhurriedly behind your brisk pace, easily blocking the way you swing the door shut in his face. Letting it shut with such infuriatingly smooth nonchalance.

“Fun?” you scoff, jabbing an accusing finger right in the middle of his sculpted chest.“Do you even realize the mess you could’ve made?”

“Easy there, m’not insured for these pecs just yet.” Gojo clasps your hands together. Some strange little part of your skin burning at the touch in- anger? Something else? But you don’t think too hard about it, because he’s plowing on, “Besides, a little teasing never hurt anyone.”

Such a shame he was so pretty with the stupidest mouth.

“A little teasing? You practically declared to everyone in that room that we’re gonna fuck this up.” you move to pull him down by the collar instead, clearly unimpressed.

But oh you shouldn’t have done that - because he’s so close now. Too close. Hot breath fanning your face, looking so smug as he murmurs unrepentantly, “Do you?” Chuckling lightly at your little head tilt, “Do you think we’ll fuck it up?”

You clench your jaw, trying to keep it all together. “...No.”

“Exactly. We’re good then.” he winks.

“No. We’re not fucking ‘good’.” you grit out. Wondering exactly how difficult it might be to bother the director into completely recasting the male lead for the movie. Looking up at that million dollar smile and- yeah, it would be very difficult. “You’re so insufferable. I don’t know why they cast you.”

“My good looks? My charisma? The way I’m the-” he trails off with a sigh at your glare. “Well, you’re not exactly a ray of sunshine, sweetheart.”

“At least I can act and-.”

He whines dramatically, cutting off your rant. “Me too!”

This conversation was so ridiculous - but, hey, the great Gojo Satoru always did bring out the worst parts of you.

“Nuh uh.”

“Yuh uh.”

“Then why are you so stiff when acting like you’re in love with me?”

Somehow, that makes Gojo shut up. Mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water - gasping out a strangled little, “B-because- well-” And if you didn’t know any better you’d say that was a light blush dusting his ears.

Only for a split-second, though, because he’s grabbing you gently by your shoulders, more seriously than you’d ever seen him. “Fine. Listen, we both want the same thing right? To have pretend-sex and ace this film to win like five Oscars?”

And maybe at the heat of his newfound proximity, maybe at the way he was looking at you so goddamn intensely - you feel something hot and prickly pooling in your stomach. Swallowing thickly, you manage to get out, “I’ll be the one winning the Oscars...but yes.”

Gojo’s gaze roams all over you - from the quirk of your eyebrow to the dress hugging you so sinfully tight. “Then we’ll do it. Ace the scene.”

Traitorously, a shiver runs down your spine. And because the universe loves to play jokes on you, Gojo notices - of course, he does. Eyes lighting up with amusement and something you really didn’t want to decipher as you blink up questioningly, “How?”

“Method acting, silly.” he rolls his eyes, as if he wasn’t implying something that wasn’t seen in even the cheesiest of romcoms. “Think of it as running lines.”

If there was ever a moment where your life flashed behind your eyes then this just might be it.

“You-” you gulp, so hot all over. “You better shut the fuck up and pray your face is insured because-”

At this, Gojo throws his head back and laughs - loud and boisterous. And usually you’d have a thing or two to say about keeping his voice down so as not to let anyone outside hear, but shit you were mesmerized. Damn, a weird little part of you kind of understood why directors loved him onscreen.

“Feisty,” he muses. “But how can I shut the fuck up when they’re second-guessing the two best actors in the game?”

“The best? Me, maybe.” you lean in closer, mouth as bitchy as ever - even when you’re so obviously crumbling bit by bit under his gaze. And he knew that. “But not you.”

“Well, only way to find out is with tomorrow’s scene, right, sweetheart?”

He drove you mad - everything from his heady cologne, to the way that overpriced button-up clung to him like second skin. But, don’t pull away - how could you? Not when he inches closer ever-so-slightly. Not when he lets those overpriced glasses slide down his nose, eyes locked so heavily on you.

Fighting to keep your words steady, “There’s nothing special about that scene, just fake moan in front of the camera, right? We don’t need any…‘method acting’.”

Gojo only raises a brow in amusement, lips curling into a grin that really makes you too aware of his little dimple by the corner. “Then why…” His eyes flicker down from his hands, searing on your shoulders, to yours - still grabbing his collar, just grazing the soft skin of his neck. Not pulling away. “...can’t you let go of me, sweetheart?”

And then you’re kissing him - or maybe he’s kissing you, you really don’t give a fuck. The only thing running through your mind being that shit this was Gojo bane-of-your-existence Satoru, and he tasted so…sweet. Like those cheap lollipops he often snuck on-set. Strawberry, you think.

But you don’t get to confirm, because suddenly he’s pulling away mere millimeters. Whispering hotly, absolutely dripping with something dangerous, “Sooo, is that a ‘yes’ to running lines?”

“Ugh, shut up.” your lips ghost his. “And just fucking kiss me.”

And, well, Gojo doesn’t have to be asked twice. Because it only takes a split second for his lips to find yours again.

Yeah, definitely strawberry lollipops.

You hadn’t filmed any of the kissing scenes just yet, but damn you didn’t expect him to be so hot and messy - like he was drunk off of you. Licking at the seam of your candied lips, groaning softly like he wanted more more more-

“Sh-shit, Goj-”

“Call me ‘Satoru’ when we’re fucking.” he cuts you off. “Or, my bad. When we’re ‘running lines’.”

Shameless. Though, you guess you weren’t any better - not as you press yourself closer running your hands all over his sinfully thin shirt, feeling every bump and curve of his abs. “You talk too much, Toru.” you hiss, muffled against his lips.

Oh that cute lil’ nickname had all the blood rushing to Satoru’s cock, you were so unfair.

“You little minx.” Like a little punishment, he’s biting down on your bottom lip, tugging lightly at your surprised squeal. “You’re gonna regret that.”

“Hmm, I doubt it.”

And then your back is hitting the couch before you can react, bouncing lightly at the sheer force. And you’re so swept up in him - the way he hovers over you, arms looping around your waist, his knee wedging between your legs - that it almost hurts for you to pull away.

“Patience.” you huff out a laugh at Satoru’s disappointed whine, eyeing those pretty pink lips mere inches away from you. You just wanted them on yours. So badly. But no, there was something more important you had to do right now. “Jus’ thought we should record our little rehearsal, whaddaya think?”

“Record it?”

“Record it.”

“Record it, hmmm?” he’s whispering, more to himself than you. Fumbling with the zipper of your dress. “So you’re sayin’ we tape it, let the camera see how pretty you look all fallin’ apart f’me.” Kissing down your neck, letting the flimsy fabric fall down, “N’ then we improve for the pretend sex. Shut all those snobby directors up by giving them the best fucking sex scene they’ve ever seen.”

“Y-yes?” you mutter, as he starts tweaking your hardened nipples through your bra, clearly having way too much fun with this. “Unless-”

“Fine by me.”

The fabric hits the floor before you even realize what’s happening. Head spinning too much from the idea of being fucked on camera - by Satoru of all people, it takes you a second to realize that this bastard fucking ripped your dress off.

“You probably broke-”

“I’ll buy you a new one.” muffled, as he kisses down your navel, blindly fumbling with his phone.

“It was expensive.”

With an impatient sigh, Satoru sets the camera up on the coffee table beside the couch. “Five new ones.” Angling it just right to perfectly capture you - in all your disheveled, horny glory, and Satoru, smugly seating himself between your thighs.

“Ready?” he asks, finger hovering over that damn red button.

Well, it’s just for rehearsal, right? Right?

“Do it.” you manage to get out, voice getting stuck in your throat at the faint ding! that rings throughout the heady room. “For my Oscars?”

“For my Oscars. N’the camera’s gonna know.”

And whatever retort on the tip of your tongue dies when he rocks his hip against yours, grinding his cock against your soaked panties. Rock-hard and so damp with precum already - so big that any and all rational thinking flies out the window.

Which is probably why you’re letting out such a pretty gasp, ‘S-Satoru, I want-“

“What?” And Satoru only flashes you a devilish grin, hands spreading your legs as far as they’d go on the couch. “This?”

He licks a long, long stripe up your inner thigh, all the way till he just meets the hem of your drenched panties. Teasing. So hot and depraved in the way he breathes in your scent.

“Oh fuck, sweetheart.” Satoru grunts, looking down in awe at the damp fabric, so flimsy and see-through with your sweet juices. You slick beading through so sloppily, just a hint of the state you were in. “You don’t know how you drive me mad.”

Rip!

He’s so fucking starved that he’s just tearing your poor panties clean off. Throwing them behind him to God-knows-where before spreading your swollen folds with his thumb, showing off just how wet you were for him.

“You’re a tease.”

“And you’re fucking addictive. Look how fuckin’ wet you are. For who, huh?” he slurs, breath hot against your cunt. Circling your entrance just barely with his fingertip, teasing you like he was addicted to those frustrated moans coming out of your pretty lips.

“S’for you-” you whine, “All for you, Satoru.”

“Exactly what I wanted to hear.”

And that’s all that needs to be said before he’s burying himself nose-deep. Drunk off your pussy as he licks long, languid movements. And it wasn’t enough - never might be, actually, because only one taste and Satoru was like a man possessed.

Bullying his tongue between your folds, just dipping into your sloppy hole in a way that had your slick smearing all over his pretty face. Letting out such deep groans that had you clenching around his hot tongue.

Shit, if you knew that this was the way to shut up the great Gojo Satoru then you would’ve done it a lot sooner. Because for one in his life, Satoru’s too entranced with something else to run his mouth, so fucking satisfied between your thighs.

“Fuck- hah- think I like you better w-when hngh- you’re like this, Toru.” you purr, breath hitching as he bullies his tongue between your folds.

Maybe you were an idiot - maybe you were a genius, because that only sets him off more.

And suddenly Satoru’s pulling your body closer onto his hot mouth, like you were weighless. Pushing himself so impossibly closer while he makes out deeper with your wet cunt.

“Ah! Hngh- Satoru-” you keen, tugging at his soft locks. As delirious as Satoru was pussydrunk. Drinking in all your cute lil’ whines of his name, angling your hips to lick all over like he couldn’t decide between fucking your sloppy hole or toying with your poor, ravaged clit.

“Mhm?” he murmurs, the vibrations making you squeal. Eyes rolling to the back of his head as lets your sweet juices slide down his throat. “Ya like this?” Stretching you out on his tongue, thrusting in and out of your sloppy hole. Over and over- “Like when I tonguefuck your pretty pussy?”

“Ngh- love it- s’good. Ah fillin’ me up s’good.” you squeal, bucking your hips desperately into his pretty face, broken little whimpers leaving you at each rough push of Satoru’s tongue.

And oh Satoru thinks he wouldn’t mind being on his knees every day if it meant he got to taste you like this. “Tell the camera too, sweetheart. Practice how you’ll come around my tongue.”

Those words send a jolt up your spine - or maybe it was the way Satoru was sucking harshly on your clit. “F-fuck off.”

“Mhmmm, n’ this is why I’m the better actor..”

Ugh, this fucker. And with that you fight to turn your head - looking right in the camera. Feeling so fucking lewd as you let out such pornographic moans.

“Yeah- feel s’good.” you whimper, “Wanted this for so long, ever since I first saw- ngh- you-”

And shit were you so fucking evil - at least warn a guy! Because that has Satoru’s heart lurching, almost jumping up from between your legs before it hits him with a pang - ah, right, you were just quoting your character’s lines. Of course.

Well, two can play that game.

“Yeah?” he mutters into your folds. Two fingers plunging knuckle-deep in your pussy, massaging your plushy walls. Roaming around for that one spot he knows will have you falling apart so deliciously. “Can’t believe I waited s’fucking long. Y’know how hard it was to hold back? With you wearing all those slutty skirts f’me?”

Your body is jerking violently, both at his - practiced - words, and the way he was devouring you like you were his favorite meal. His favorite taste.

So eager and in-character with the way he was setting such a dizzying pace on your poor cunt. Slick trailing down from his fingers, all the way to his wrist. So sloppy and- Pressing down. Hard. “Found it.”

And you can only sit there and take it, such cute little whines of Satoru’s name leaving you as he leaves no mercy. Jaw grinding deeper and deeper, maddening. Aching as he rolls and swirls his tongue against your clit over and over. And you were so-

“Close?” Satoru’s grunting and smacking his lips against your own. Truthfully, he didn’t even have to ask - if the way you were trembling and squeezing so fucking tightly around him was anything to go by. “Go on darling. scream my name. Show off f’the camera like you do best.”

“Sh-shit. Toru- fuck yes-” you’ve got an iron-tight grip on his hair now, pulling and angling him as you pleased for more. Barely able to let out those strained lil’ moans, definitely not with the way he’s dragging your sloppy pussy all over his face. Fingers cramping up from how rough he was going - but still not stopping.

“Go on. Cum f’me.”

And then you are. Letting out such a teary, strangled moan of Satoru’s name as you cum all over his face.

And it’s not just for the camera either - because this orgasm is probably the best one you’ve had in a while. So hard that you don’t even realize you’re arching and rocking your hips into Satoru, white-hot pleasure behind your eyes, blood roaring in your ears. Using him.

And he doesn’t stop you. Why would he? You were so pretty falling apart all because of him. He wishes he could see this more often…

“S-Satoru.” you mewl, overstimulated. Jolting with each flick of his tongue, trying to close your legs but you can’t - he won’t let you. Greedily lapping up all your sweet juices, everything that you give him.

“Nope.” he drawls, finally pulling away, delicate strings of your slick snapping as he does. Looking so fucking drunk off of you that it makes your cunt quiver exhaustedly. “C’mon now, sweetheart, you were s’pposed to say my character’s name. S’how the scene goes.”

Oh. Shit, you got too caught up. But one look at Satoru - eyes half-lidded, hair disheveled, your juices glistening all over the bottom half of his face so prettily - tells you he was much the same.

“Well…” you huff, voice shot. “According to the script you were supposed to stuff that-” pointedly eyeing the achingly hard cock straining his pants, “-in my mouth first before eating me out. So here we are.”

With a chuckle, he rises slowly. “Touché.” Looking you straight in the eyes - and probably into your very soul - as he pops his fingers into his mouth. One by one. Groaning at the taste of your sweet sweet juices while he sucks them clean. “But I don’t think I’d last one second with those pretty lips wrapped around my cock.”

And it almost makes you want to tease him for it - one of Hollywood’s biggest It Boys but you can’t handle a lil’ blowjob? But all of that gets stuck in your throat as Satoru starts peeling off his shirt ever-so-slowly.

Shit, you think. All mouthwatering curves and dips, all the way from his toned, milky shoulders down, down, down to those neat tufts of white peeking out from the hem of his underwear. Sculpted like he was handcrafted so meticulously - a fucking masterpiece, you had to admit.

One that made you wish you took a longer look at all those shirtless magazine covers instead of throwing them out. One that had your thighs squeezing in such anticipation.

And Satoru seemed to be admiring you just the same, eyes locked on your pussy, the way it glistens and clenches around nothing - so ready for him. Distinctly aware of how pathetically needy you were being in front of the blinking camera, you crane your head to glance at it. Was it really capturing-

“Now now, first rule is to never look at the camera during this scene.” Only for Satoru to squish your cheeks together, forcing you into an embarrassing little pout as he turns you back to face him. “Look at me.”

And oh you can’t not look at him.

Especially when he tugs his pants down, just enough that his throbbing cock springs out, so fucking long and pretty. Smearing glossy precum all over his abs, flushed your favorite shade of pink, rock-hard and so so angry. Shit, he was so hard it looked like it hurt.

“Satoru…” you breathe, legs wrapping around his slutty waist to pull him closer. Only needier despite that little nagging voice wondering how the fuck you’d take his sheer size.

“Sweetheart?”

“I remember he didn’t do a lot of waiting in the script.”

And God were you right - but Satoru doesn’t think he could’ve kept this act of restraint up any longer even if you weren’t. Too impatient, too starved, his sanity dancing away from him with each second his fat cock wasn’t stuffed inside your pretty cunt.

“Mhm.” he purrs, one hand reaching down to drag his fat head up and down your slit. Heavy balls squeezing painfully at the way your lip wobbles in frustration. Up and down up and up and- “You’re right.”

And then it’s like something snaps.

Because it only takes a split-second for Satoru to start splitting you apart on his massive cock. Big fat tears pricking at your eyes at the feeling that he was pushing all the way into your lungs.

“Sh-shit, s’fuckin’ tight-” he lets out a low grunt at the slight resistance, taking everything in him to not just fuck into your snug pussy and use you like his little plaything. “You gotta hah- relax, pretty girl.”

You needed to relax more - to breathe maybe, just something. You weren’t even in the right state to wonder whether that little nickname was in the script - and God was Satoru thankful for that. Because all you can think of is how you never imagined what the bane of your existence would look with his cock stuffed in your dripping cunt - but now that you’ve seen it, you think you’ll imagine it for many lonely nights to come.

“Hey, now. Don’t get camera-shy just yet.” Satoru gives your ass a playful smack. “After all, this is only the best- part-”

Each word is punctuated with shallow, mindless little thrust to fit himself inside your dripping pussy. Such cute lil’ whines leaving your swollen lips that he really can’t help but tease you a bit. Leering down at your fucked-out face with a smirk, “Or- my bad. Forgot such a scene would be hard for a rookie.”

Oh, did he know how to press your buttons just right.

Because immediately, you’re blinking away the delirious haze in your eyes, voice so adorably shaky - but determined - as you grit out, “Bring it on, you B-list wonder.”

That’s all that has to be said before he’s finally bottoming out inside you, mercilessly. Inch by fucking inch. You gasp as his twitching balls smack your ass so lewdly, feeling his veins beat in such a slutty lil’ thump! thump! thump! against your heavenly walls.

“T-Toru- big- ngh- too fuckin’ big. M’gonna break mpf-” his lips claim yours. Partially because it’s been way too long since he’s kissed your pretty lips, and partially because Satoru might just cum right then and there if he let you run your mouth.

So he lets his hips do the talking instead.

Cooing into your mouth at each little ah! ah! ah! every time he stuffed you full of his dick, quick, experimental thrusts to try and find that one spot he knows will have you falling apart so prettily.

“Sounds so beautiful, sweetheart.” rocking his hips faster into yours. So hard you were sure he’d leave marks. “No camera in the world can pick up how fuckin’ perfect ya are. Can’t ngh- pick up those cockdrunk lil’ heart eyes.” Angling your chin just so that your sinful expression is caught on camera, “Shit do ya even know you’re doing those? Might just make me lose it for real tomorrow. Might just make me sneak you off to the dressing rooms n’-” Manicured fingers digging into your hips while he fucks you in jagged, purposeful strokes. Hitting that one spot. Hard. “Fuck you all over again.”

You flinch as he uses you like some object. Dangerously liking it more and more as he smugly hits that magical spot over and over-

And it was so sloppy - so filthy with the way Satoru still had remnants of your slick all over his lips, matching the way you were soaking his cock. Fingers moving down to draw erratic little patterns on your clit, making it even messier.

Close - too close.

So, so desperate and debauched.

“C’mon. Show the camera. Tell the camera how much you love it.”

“Ngh- f-fuck you.”

“Oh? Who’s fucking who now?” he’s laughing at your absolutely wrecked state. You can feel Satoru twitch inside you as you mumble out such delirious little praises to the camera - were they coherent sentences? You’ll never know, because the next words that fall from his lips have your mind reeling.

“God, m’addicted to you, my girl.”

“That’s not- ah- in the script, Toru.” you hiss. Close.

“I know. And neither is that.” he leaves such uncharacteristically gentle kisses down your neck. Miles away from the relentless place on your poor, abused pussy, fucking you deeper and rougher every time despite already bottoming out. “Does it have to be?”

“Th-that doesn’t ngh- make sense.” you gasp into his open mouth.

“Doesn’t have to.”

Maybe it’s the way Satoru’s panting those words against your lips. Or maybe it’s the way he’s looking right in your eyes while he says them - like it would kill him to pull away. Maybe even that fleeting little kiss he leaves against your lips.

Because before you know it, you’re cumming and cumming so hard that you wonder whether you’d make it out alive. The only thing you can do is throw your head back and take it, thighs quivering, Satoru’s names spilling from your lips in such broken little whines while he thrusts so sloppy. Once. Twice.

“Ah- this is gonna have me fallin’, huh?” And then he’s letting out such a low, muffled moan of your name, filling you up with rope after rope of his cum.

What?

It’s so messy - his cum overfilling your poor pussy, spilling out and coating his twitching balls. Shit, you can’t even worry about whether it would stain that overpriced couch below you. Not when Satoru’s whispering out sweet- lines from the script?

“Fuckin’ beautiful underneath me. Always was.” Hips still fucking into you - not even thinking at this point. “Always will be. Such a vision onscreen, sweetheart.” So thick and hot, and dribbling all the way down your legs with every movement.

And then Satoru’s lips are finding yours again, tasting so unfairly sweet while he drinks in all your cute breathless gasps. “Such a vision f’me.”

Those weren’t from the script either.

Something soft. Something scary. Something that has you looping your legs tighter around his waist, letting him collapse onto you. Pulling him closer, in fact, because now that you know the weight of his body on yours, it just felt so right.

It takes a moment of silence for you two to catch your breaths, the still rolling camera being the last thing on your minds. Neither willing to speak first, because shit Satoru might’ve gone to countless red carpets and film sets but this - you are what strips him away from all the glamor and fame. Until he was just, well, embarrassingly Satoru.

The Satoru that was now shifting shyly in your arms, trying to get up. “Uh- Hell of a way to run lines, huh? Better check the camera n’ see where to impro-”

He might be one of the biggest actors in modern Hollywood, but Satoru didn’t fool you - not one bit. So without a word, you’re tugging him back to rest against you. Heart lurching just a little bit as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. Like a little hideaway - from the camera, from the world, hell, maybe even from you.

“Y’know,” he flinches ever-so-slightly at your teasing tone, giving you a playful bite. “I have one area of suggestion and it might just be that you’re too good at ‘running lines’.”

“...Good enough to win those five Oscars?”

“No.”

“Then guess I better prove it to ya, huh? Is the camera still on, sweetheart?”

Just then, some weird little part of you thinks that, hell, maybe you don’t hate Gojo Satoru after all.

Not anymore, at least.

---

The Enemies-To-Lovers Trope of The Century?! Hollywood’s Biggest Rivals Sport Matching Hickeys (And Smiles) On-Set of Upcoming Film.

Oops! Gojo Satoru's Phone Wallpaper Accidentally Exposed: Surprise, Surprise It’s His Leading Lady! More on Page 6.

“No Comment. Though, I Have Moved Trailers. Twice.” Anonymous Manager Speaks on Latest Movie Rumors.

Director Is All Smiles As He Raves About Upcoming Romance Movie. “Hell, If I Didn’t Know Any Better I’d Say They Were Really-”

A/N. Plagiarism not authorized.

#gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #tonywrites

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wriokitty · 2 months ago

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morning routine — ft. sylus

before you read: established relationships ; gender neutral reader ; sleepy clingy sylus ; banter ; fluff and cheesiness i apologize in advance

“Here we go,” you hum to yourself, rolling your eyes with a knowing smile curled loosely on your lips as soon as Sylus starts to shift in his sleep. “Like a hermit crab,” you tease to his unconscious figure, “no wonder you’re so pale. Do you even remember what the sun looks like?”

“Do you always talk to sleeping people?”

You still at the sound of his voice, hand freezing in the middle of stroking through his hair. He doesn’t like that, either—his head presses up into your fingertips, a silent demand for more.

“You should be sleeping,” you scold gently, fingers returning to their earlier movements. You scratch lightly at his scalp and he shivers, humming in content. Like a cat, you think fondly, purring in your arms at the slightest show of affection.

Your morning routine starts with the same valiant effort every day: protecting Sylus from the sun. It’s honest work: he already doesn’t sleep very much through the night, and if he doesn’t sleep through the day because of a mild setback either, you think a number of poor victims would suffer the consequences of his tired, grouchy attitude.

So, you protect him as he falls asleep while the sun rises, beams of light slipping through the cracks of the blinds a little more with every minute. You watch him—with equal parts amusement and equal parts fondness, you watch every morning as he slowly shifts in his sleep. It starts with him inching closer and closer towards you, and ends with his head buried into your chest and his body curled around you like you’re a shield for the cruel light that disturbs him.

You like this routine, though. It’s the perfect chance to admire him, to bring a hand to trace over his relaxed features—the slightly crooked slant of his nose, the sharp angle of his cheekbones, the defined edge of his jawline. And, of course, your favorite part: the soft, plump curves of his lips. He never does anything to indicate he’s awake, either. Nothing to even hint that he feels you, breathing slow and soft puffs of air peacefully nestled against you.

He looks delicate in slumber. Vulnerable. So agonizingly soft and fragile in a way he normally doesn’t look. (Oh, but does he feel soft, you always think. Sylus always feels so inexplicably soft.)

“I would be sleeping,” he finally grumbles, but it’s playful as he shifts to hide his face deeper into your chest while his nose presses against your collarbone. “But someone disrupted my efforts.”

“No, I protect you,” you huff, “with the way you avoid the sun in your sleep, you’d think the vitamin D would poison you.”

“If it was poisonous, then I’d be dead,” he sighs dramatically, cracking a crimson eye open and looking at you like he’s wounded. “You do a terrible job at keeping me shielded.”

“Maybe I’m trying to kill you in your sleep,” you wink, “ever think of that?”

He chuckles, voice low and still laced with the evidence of sleep from the raspiness of it. You smile softly at the sound, pressing a chaste kiss to his head while he moves to bury it into the crook of your neck. There’s something oddly comforting about it—holding him like this. Holding him while he hides into your body, melts against your skin, sinks weight onto you because you take it and he can.

“Go back to sleep,” you murmur sweetly, rubbing a slow, soothing hand up and down his bare back and tracing his spine. “I’ll make sure the sun knows not to bother my big, sleepy, vitamin D deficient baby.”

“I’m not vitamin D deficient,” he huffs.

“So you agree you’re a big, sleepy baby?”

He snores dramatically, pulling a giggle from your lips. A kiss presses to the skin of your neck, and they come from a pair of lips that feel suspiciously curled—like they’re smiling. You wrap your arms around him a little tighter, because close just doesn’t feel close enough when it’s him.

“Let’s hope I wake up without being poisoned,” he hums, half-asleep once more as you trace a finger along the sharp, muscled curves of his back.

You press one more kiss to his head before murmuring, “I’ll see what I can do.”

He lets out a gentle snore again, real this time. He’s sound asleep with his body molded against yours, routine like it is every morning—you protecting him from the sun, and him falling into your arms.

I just want to hold him while he peacefully rests and hide him away from the sun so he can sleep well like he deserves because he’s a BABY

To me he’s a baby :(

#—rivistyping!#sylus x reader #sylus x mc #sylus x you #sylus x y/n #sylus fluff #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace fluff #lds x reader #Lds fluff #l&ds x reader #l&ds x you #l&ds fluff #lads x reader #lads fluff #lads x you

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d1stalker · 6 months ago

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This is Ours [Logan Howlett]

Summary: It's your first time back at your grandparents' farm in years, and while many things are the same, one thing is not: they've hired a new farmhand.

Warnings: fem!reader, SMUT, sexual tension, angst, fluff, lots of feelings WC: 18.8k - MASTERLIST

A/N: apologies for dropping another long fic but i literally could not stop writing the juices were flowing. i really hope you enjoy this! i think its my fave so far :)

----

For as long as you can remember, summers were synonymous with your grandparents' farm. It was a tradition, one you held close to your heart. To you, your time there embodied your entire childhood—days spent under the sun, where the air was thick with the scent of wildflowers and the soothing chorus of cicadas filling the long, golden afternoons.

Mornings began early, with you bounding downstairs to join your grandparents for breakfast. The kitchen was always filled with the comforting aroma of fresh coffee and pancakes. Your grandfather would be at the table, engrossed in his newspaper, while your grandmother hummed softly as she cooked, the sound of the morning radio playing faintly in the background. Your days were spent exploring the fields, helping with the chores and horses, or sitting on the porch with your grandmother, listening to stories from her youth.

It couldn’t get any more perfect than that.

But as the years passed, things changed. After you graduated high school, the summer visits became less frequent. University took up more of your time, and you were always busy—first with classes, then with internships, and finally with starting your career. The farm, once the centre of your world, became a place you could only visit if you were lucky, and even then, it was never for long.

You miss it.

This year, however, things were different. You found yourself in between jobs, with the first real break you’d had in what felt like forever. And when the moment the opportunity arose, you knew exactly where you wanted to go.

—

The drive to your grandparents' farm is a journey into the past. The country road, lined with trees that stretched out like old friends, brings back a flood of memories from your childhood: where you’re sitting in the back of your parent’s car vibrating with excitement. You pass the same fields, still as vast and green as you remember, dotted with flowers swaying gently in the breeze, and the old oak tree where you used to swing as a child stands tall, its branches reaching up to the sky as if welcoming you back.

When you finally pull up to the farmhouse, the sight of it fills you with a deep sense of nostalgia. The white paint is more chipped than you remember, the porch sags a little more in the middle, and you can tell that it’s been a while since the grass was last trimmed.

Stepping out of the car, the screen door squeaks open, and there’s your grandmother, standing on the porch, wiping her hands on her apron. She’s smaller than you remember, more fragile, but the smile on her face is the same—warm, welcoming, and full of love. “There’s my girl,” she calls out, rushing down the steps and into the driveway as fast as she can.

“Grandma!” you exclaim, hurrying toward her to wrap her in a hug.

She pulls back to look at you, her eyes twinkling despite the lines of age etched on her face. “You’ve grown even more beautiful, but you look tired. We’ll fix that with some good meals, won’t we?”

You laugh, nodding. “I missed your cooking.”

“And I missed having someone to cook for,” she replies with a chuckle, patting your cheek. “Come inside. Your grandpa’s been counting down the days until you got here.”

You grab your suitcase from your car and follow her into the house, the familiar scents of fresh bread and old wood enveloping you the minute you step inside. It’s just as you remember—cozy, lived-in, filled with the glow of years worth of love and memories. Your grandfather sits at the kitchen table, a pair of reading glasses perched on the tip of his nose as he reads a book. He looks up as you enter, and the moment he sees you, his face breaks into a wide grin.

“There’s my favourite farmhand,” he jokes, letting out a grunt as he places one hand on the table, slowly pushes out of his chair.

“Grandpa,” you say, meeting him halfway for a hug.

“Got here just in time,” he says with a wink. “Plenty of work to do, you know.”

“I figured,” you reply, playfully nudging him. “I’m ready to get my hands dirty.”

“Good to hear,” he says, leaning back against the table for support. “This old back of mine isn’t what it used to be.”

Your grandmother sets a glass of lemonade in front of you and sits down, her eyes flicking toward the window. “We’ve had to make some changes around here, sweetheart,” she begins gently. “Your grandpa and I… well, we can’t do as much as we used to.”

You hum, listening carefully. Seeing your grandparents grow older is difficult��it's a constant reminder that time is slipping away, and the moments you have together are becoming more precious with each passing day.

“We’ve hired some help,” she continues. “A man named Logan. He’s been a blessing, really, taking care of the heavier work. But he’s… well, he’s not much of a talker.”

“Logan?” you ask, glancing out the window.

That’s when you see him. Tall and broad-shouldered, he is out by the barn, carrying some hay. He’s wearing a worn-down flannel with jeans, and his dark hair is slightly tousled. Even from a distance, you can tell he’s strong—he looks like he knows what he’s doing.

“Yeah, Logan,” your grandfather confirms. “Keeps to himself mostly, but he’s get’s the job done. Don’t mind his gruffness; he’s just not used to people fussing over him.”

“He’s been here since last spring,” your grandmother adds. “We needed the help, and he needed the work. It’s been good for both sides. You should go and introduce yourself after you unpack, dear. Maybe get in some work before we sit for dinner later.”

Nodding, you walk up the stairs in the house and make your way to your room. It looks exactly the same as the last time you saw it. Your old stuffed animals are organized neatly on the shelf above the bed, and the quilt your grandmother made for you, with patches of faded fabric from old dresses and curtains, is spread across the bed the exact same way it’s always been.

The posters on the walls, the little knickknacks on the dresser—everything is a snapshot of your younger self, preserved in this room like a time capsule. It’s comforting, but also a little bittersweet, a reminder of how much time has passed since you had last visited.

After a few moments of reminiscing, you stand up and begin unpacking, carefully placing your clothes in the old wooden dresser. Each drawer creaks as you open it, the sound a part of this room’s charm. You smile as you come across some of the little treasures you left behind—a pressed flower between the pages of an old book, a seashell from a family trip to the coast, and last, a picture of you and your grandparents taken one summer when you were about ten.

You’re standing between them, beaming with a toothy grin, their arms wrapped around you in a warm embrace. The three of you are standing in front of the barn, with the sun setting behind you. You can almost hear your grandmother’s laugh as the camera clicked, your grandfather’s playful grumbling about having to pose for ‘just one more picture.’ The photo captures a moment of pure happiness, a snapshot of a simpler time.

Setting the photo down, you quickly begin to change into your designated farm clothes, and head out to meet the new face around here.

The trek to the barn isn’t very long, just a few minutes away from the main house, and from the outside, you can hear the familiar sounds of work—footsteps crunching on the hay-strewn floor, the creak of wood as something heavy is moved. You pause at the doorway, taking a moment to observe him before stepping inside. He’s focused, his movements efficient as he lifts another bale of hay and stacks it with the others.

You take a deep breath, and step into the barn. “Logan?” you call out softly.

He doesn’t stop what he’s doing, but with a slight pause and glance over his shoulder, his eyes, sharp and intense, meet yours, and there’s a moment where you’re not sure what to say. “I’m—”

“I already know who you are,” he grunts, cutting you off.

His abruptness catches you off guard, but you quickly recover, nodding. “Right. I guess that makes sense.”

“If you wanna help, there’s a broom in the back shed,” he continues, going back to his work as if the conversation is already over. “You could sweep up the hay.”

You bristle, a little surprised at how quickly he dismissed you, but you’re determined not to let it rattle you. After all, your grandparents did warn you that he wasn’t much of a talker. “Sure,” you say. “I can do that.”

As you turn to head toward the back shed, you find yourself lightly imitating his gruff tone under your breath, a flicker of irritation running through you. “There’s a broom in the back shed. Yeah, obviously, I know where the broom would be,” you mutter.

In the shed, the broom is in fact, exactly where you expected it to be, and you huff, grabbing it and walking back to the barn. When you return, Logan is still hard at work, stacking the hay, and doesn’t bother to acknowledge you yet again. You set to work sweeping, the rhythmic motion of the broom soon lulling you into a steady state. The barn is quiet, save for the soft shuffling of hay under your broom and the occasional grunt from Logan as he moves the heavy bales.

Time seems to pass slowly, the light outside growing softer as the sun dips lower in the sky. You’re so caught up in your thoughts that you barely notice when Logan’s footsteps stop. It’s only when his voice breaks the silence that you’re pulled back to the present.

“Your grandma called for dinner,” he says, causing you to jump a bit at the unexpectedness of his voice in the silence. Before you can respond, he turns and walks away, leaving you standing there with the broom still in hand. You let out a small sigh, feeling the tension in your shoulders. This is going to be a long few months, you think to yourself as you return the broom to its usual place and jog back to the farmhouse.

Inside, the kitchen smells like a warm hearty stew. The table is already set, the familiar blue-and-white checkered tablecloth in place, and your grandparents are seated, chatting quietly as they wait for you and Logan to join them.

You slide into the seat across from your grandmother just as Logan walks over from the sink, two glasses of water in his hands. He places one in front of you with a quick nod, and the other at his own seat, beside yours.

“So,” your grandmother says, her eyes shining with curiosity as she looks between the both of you. “I take it you’ve introduced yourselves to each other?”

You hesitate momentarily, your mind flashing back to your brief encounter in the barn. “Yeah, we have,” you reply, managing a smile, if you can call it that.

Logan doesn’t say anything, his focus on the bowl of stew in front of him. He doesn’t seem interested in joining the conversation, which only adds to the growing sense of awkwardness you feel. You glance at him briefly, wondering if he’s always this closed off or if it’s just his way of dealing with new people.

“Well, that’s good,” your grandmother says, either oblivious to the tension or choosing to ignore it. “Logan’s been a big help around here. We’re so grateful to have him.”

Your grandfather hums in agreement, scooping a spoonful of stew into his mouth before adding, “He’s got a strong work ethic. Doesn’t shy away from the tough jobs, that’s for sure.”

Nodding along, you feel the pressure to say something positive. “That’s great. It’s good to know the farm’s in good hands.” Even thought the words are definitely a bit forced, you mean it.

As the conversation continues, your grandparents shift the focus to you, asking about your job search and what you’ve been up to since you last visited. You give them a brief rundown of the interviews you’ve had, the options you’re considering, and the challenges you’ve faced. You try to keep it light, not wanting to worry them with your uncertainty, but you can’t help but notice the man’s presence beside you, still silent.

At one point, when you’re talking about finding a new apartment, you hear him let out a quiet scoff, and you cast a look over, catching the faintest hint of a smirk on his lips. It’s gone almost as quickly as it appears, but it’s enough to make you pause. You want to ask him what that was about, to challenge him on whatever it is he’s thinking, but you bite your tongue. This isn’t the time or place, not in front of your grandparents who are just happy to have everyone around the table.

They continue to chat with you, asking more about your plans and offering their usual words of encouragement. When dinner finally wraps up, your grandmother insists on cleaning up, waving you off when you offer to help. “You’ve had a long day, dear. Why don’t you go relax? Logan can help me with the dishes.”

You smile. “Thanks, Grandma.”

He’s already started collecting the dishes by the time you stand up, but it’s like he refuses to recognize your existence, and that pisses you off.

—

The next morning, you wake before dawn, the world still wrapped in the gentle embrace of night, and for a moment, you lie still, listening to the deep, pulsing of the house—the way the wooden floors creak slightly as they settle, the distant sound of the wind rustling through the trees outside. The comfort of knowing your grandparents are asleep down the hall brings a sense of calm that you haven’t felt in a long time.

Deciding to take advantage of the early hour, you slip out of bed, your feet brushing against the cool floor as you stretch, feeling the muscles in your body slowly wake. You dress quietly, pulling on a soft, worn sweater, and pad downstairs, careful to avoid the spots on the stairs that you know will creak.

You move through the kitchen as if on autopilot, your hands knowing exactly where everything is. You set the coffee to brew, and the rich aroma sills the room.

Reaching for the eggs, you crack a few of them into a bowl, and as you’re whisking, you let your mind wander, thinking about how to spend the day. The soft sizzle of butter in the pan gets your attention and you pour the eggs in, watching as they begin to set around the edges.

You pour yourself a cup of coffee, the steam rising from the mug in delicate spirals, and you take a sip, savouring the warmth and flavour hitting your tongue, while your gaze drifts over to the window that faces the back of the farmhouse.

Your grandparents’ own horses, and you recognize some of them from when you were younger. It makes you happy knowing that they’re still being well taken care of. The way the early light touches the land, and the morning dew covers the grass, you can’t help but smile into your mug.

Slowly, you walk a bit closer to the window, eager to take in the view you had been missing all these years, when a figure standing over by the horses catches your eye. It’s Logan, a small surprise given the early hour—you didn’t hear him wake up—but he stands there, leaning casually against the fence, an apple in his hand.

You watch as he holds out the apple to one of the horses, his rough hand moving gently over its neck as it eats. There’s something unexpectedly tender in the way he interacts with the animal, a patience and care that you didn’t expect to see from him, given how he acted yesterday.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out another apple, offering it to the second horse, who hungrily accepts it. You continue to stare at the sight outside. This side of him—so different from the unapproachable exterior he’s shown so far—stirs something inside you, a desire to connect with him, to see if there’s more to him than meets the eye.

On impulse, you quickly turn off the stove, grab a second cup of coffee and some toast you’ve just buttered, and without overthinking it, you head outside. The morning air is cool against your skin as you make your way over to Logan.

As you approach, he keeps his attention focused on the horses. You take a moment, then clear your throat lightly, holding out the coffee with a tentative smile. “Thought you might want some breakfast,” you offer, trying to keep your tone light and friendly.

He finally glances at you, his eyes briefly meeting yours. His expression is just as unreadable his had been in the last sixteen hours you’ve known him, and then he grunts, “Already ate,” and turns his attention back to the animals in front of him.

His curt, and honestly rude rebuffals really frustrate you. It’s not like you’re asking him to wipe your ass after you go to the washroom, so you have absolutely no idea why he’s like this.

“Alright,” you mutter, lips pressed together in a thin line, and turn to head back into the kitchen.

Once inside, you set the untouched coffee and toast back on the counter with a sigh. This is so fucking awkward. You’re going to be spending the next however-many-months with him, and you would love it if you could at the very least, get along. His rough-around-the-edges personality is not making this enjoyable for you, and you’re sure that he probably just see’s you as an annoying nuisance.

And it’s not like you’re ever going to pull this card on him or anything, but you have been here longer than him, despite the fact that he’s acting like he owns the place. You get it, he’s been here for a for a while, and it’s only been him doing the work, blah blah. But you’ve been helping and doing the work your entire childhood—missing a few years doesn’t take away that fact.

With a heavy sigh, you open a cupboard and pull out a plate, scraping the eggs off the pan and setting them on it. Because your grandparents’ are still asleep, all you can do is eat in silence.

—

You’ve decided that today you are going to trim the grass. There’s always something to do around here, and since the long grass was one of the first things you noticed upon arrival, you think it’s best to just get that chore over with, considering how long you know it will take.

Once you’ve finished cleaning the dishes and pan, you go back upstairs into your room and get changed. Today, you put on a long sleeve, and a small vest over top. Your pants are some hand-me-down working pants from one of your older cousins, and you snatch a baseball cap from your closet for when it begins to get hotter out.

Walking to the back shed, you grab some tools for trimming the lawn. A lawn mower, a string trimmer, and a rake for after everything’s been cut. Moving over to the back section of the lawn, you set the trimmer and rake against the barn and start using the mower. It’s the same one your grandparents have used since you were a child, so it’s a reel lawn mower instead of those newer, more electrical ones you’ve seen around the city.

You can’t really complain about it, so you just begin, the steady repetitive action of moving the tool back and forth being somewhat therapeutic. The smell of freshly cut grass begins to hit your senses, and you truly feel at peace.

As the minutes pass, the sun rises higher, its warmth spreading across the fields. You’re completely absorbed in your work, the rhythm of mowing and the occasional chirp of birds the only sounds around you. You’ve missed this. The sounds of cars honking and early morning city traffic has nothing on the serenity of country life.

You’re just completing the first half when you sense movement nearby. Glancing up, you see Logan walking up to you, having grabbed the trimmer. He doesn’t say anything, just starts up the machine and heads over to the next patch of grass within the area.

There’s a brief moment of eye-contact, like a subtle unspoken recognition to the effort you seem to be putting in. He gives you a small nod, and turns to focus on his task. The two of you work side by side, the hum of the machines, the scent of fresh-cut grass, and the warm sun overhead creating a strangely comforting atmosphere.

When you finally finish, few hours have passed, and you walk back over to the barn and grab a lawn bag and the rake. And because Logan’s machine was electric, he seems to have finished his section as well, so you begin raking up all the stray pieces of grass.

You quick to find out how awkward it is to hold the lawn bag open with one hand while trying to rake with the other—the grass keeps slipping out of the bag, and you can’t help but feel a bit ridiculous as you fumble with the task. You scan around, hoping Logan won’t notice, but of course, he’s right there, watching as you flail around.

You feel a flush of embarrassment creep up your neck, but before you can say anything, he steps forward. Like usual it seems, he doesn’t say a word, just holds out his hand as if asking for the rake. You falter briefly, not wanting to seem like you need his help, but at the same time you understand how much more efficient it would be if he joined.

Reluctantly, you hand it over, and he immediately starts working with the same steady efficiency he brought to trimming the grass. With both hands free, you manage the lawn bag more effectively, holding it open as Logan rakes the grass into neat piles.

The silence between you isn’t uncomfortable; instead, it feels like a natural extension of the morning’s work. The sound of the rake scraping against the ground, the rustle of grass being gathered, and the occasional whinny from a horse nearby.

After the last of the grass is finally raked and bagged, you tie off the lawn bag and glance over at him. He leans the rake against the barn wall and meets your gaze. There’s something in the way he seems to stare at you head on this time, rather than just a quick look, that makes your chest fill with satisfaction.

You nod. “Thanks.”

Logan dips his chin in return, then turns and heads back toward the barn. The heat of the sun really starts to hit you now, and you take a peak at your watch, noticing that it’s already lunch time. Knowing that even if you tried to invite him, he’s probably say no, you just walk back to the farmhouse alone.

—

The next couple of weeks unfold in the same way, moving with an almost predictable rhythm. Each morning, you wake before the sun, quietly slipping out of bed while your grandparent’s are still asleep. As you prepare and eat breakfast, you take your usual place by the kitchen window, watching as Logan interacts with the horses.

Then, as the sun rises higher, you head out to begin your chores around the farm. Sometimes, Logan joins you without a word—his presence now a familiar and abating part of your routine—or sometimes, you find yourself working alone, but even then, you know he’s never far away.

You’ve learned to read his silences, to understand that his gruff demeanor isn’t necessarily unfriendliness, but rather his way of navigating the world. And though he doesn’t speak much, his actions have a way of communicating more than words ever could.

One morning, as you’re finishing up breakfast, your grandparents announce their plans to head into one of the nearby cities for the day. “We need to run some errands and pick up a few things,” your grandmother explains, her hands busy packing a small bag. “But we were thinking it might be nice for the horses to get out and see some different scenery too.”

“They haven’t been to the pond in a while. It’s good for them to stretch their legs and take in some new sights.” Your grandfather chimes in.

You nod, smiling at the thought. The pond is a beautiful spot, a peaceful place where the water runs clear and cool, surrounded by tall trees and soft grass. It’s the perfect place to spend a day with the horses. “That sounds like a great idea. I’ll take them out there for the day.”

Your grandmother’s eyes light up as she hands you a basket. “I packed some food and a blanket for a picnic. There are also a couple of towels in case you want to swim. It’ll be a lovely day for it.”

“Thank you,” you say, appreciating the thoughtfulness behind the preparations. You take the basket and head upstairs to get ready, the idea of spending the day by the pond filling you with excitement. It’s been a long time since you’ve been there last.

In your room, you change into your bathing suit, a simple bikini that you’ve always loved for its comfort and ease. You slip on a loose shirt and shorts over it, then grab a few essentials before heading back downstairs. Your grandparents have already left, so you make your way out to the barn to prepare the horses.

As you start saddling them up, you notice Logan nearby, focused on his usual tasks. His presence has become so customary to you that you hardly think twice before calling out to him. “Hey, Logan,” you say, catching his attention.

“I’m heading to the pond with the horses,” you tell him, nodding toward the saddled horses. “Grandma’s packed some food and a blanket for a picnic. There are even towels if you want to swim. You’re welcome to join us if you’d like.”

He hesitates, his gaze shifting to the horses, then back to you. After a moment, he mutters, “I’ve never ridden a horse before.”

The admission takes you by surprise, and you raise an eyebrow. “Really? But you’ve been here for over a year. I just assumed—”

He shakes his head slightly, cutting you off. “I’ve always just walked alongside them. Holdin’ onto the reins is one thing, but I’ve never actually been on top of one.”

You can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips. “That’s okay,” you say gently. “You can still join us. You can walk alongside like you usually do, and tomorrow, if you’re up for it, I’ll teach you how to ride.”

Logan peers at you for a long moment, considering your words. Finally, he nods. “Alright. I’ll come with you.”

“Great,” you reply, your smile widening. “I think you’ll enjoy it.”

With that settled, you both finish preparing for the trip. Logan helps you load the picnic basket, blanket, and towels onto one of the horses. You mount your favourite horse, and gently click your heels into its side, starting the trip as he begins walking, horses in tow, beside you.

The journey to the pond is beautiful. The green trees that frame the pathway, the soft buzzing of nature, the sound of the horses’ hooves. You and Logan exchange a few words, but for the most part, it’s silent.

When you reach the pond, the sight is just as picturesque as you remembered. The water sparkles under the sunlight, the tall trees casting dappled shadows across the grassy bank. You untie the horses, giving them plenty of room to graze and explore, before you grab the picnic basket, while he grabs the towels and blankets. Making your way over to the other side of the creek, you find a nice open patch of grass to set up on.

“I’m going for a quick dip,” you say as you go about stepping out of your shorts. Logan, who is sitting down, looks up, but his eyes seem to stop dead in their tracks when they settle on your body. You swear you can physically see his gaze darken as he takes in the sight of you stripping off your shirt. It’s subtle, but a small shiver runs down your spine at the attention nonetheless.

Without waiting for a response, you turn and and head toward the pond. The temperature is perfect: just cool enough to be refreshing without being cold.

You dive in, the reservoir embracing you as a much-needed relief from the heat. Everything feels perfect—the gentle current against your skin, the refreshing sensation of being submerged, and the weightlessness of floating just beneath the surface.

But when you lift your head out of the water, you and Logan immediately lock eyes.

He’s lying back on the blanket, propped up on one elbow, and his focus is squarely on you. The intensity of his stare is like a physical force, pinning you in place. The world around you seems to fade away, leaving just the two of you suspended in time. Your breath catches in your throat, and you can feel a heat build within you, starting in your chest and traveling down, deeper, and deeper…But then, just as suddenly as it began, he looks away, and if you were any closer, you may have been able to spot the red flush creeping up the back of his neck and to the tip of his ears.

The moment is over, but the enduring feeling of it stays with you as you swim back to the shore. Water drips from your body as you step out, and you reach for one of the towels your grandmother packed. Once you’ve dried off, you walk over to where Logan is sitting and drop down beside him on the blanket.

You are aware of eyes on you again, though this time there’s a hesitation in the way they travel over your form, as if he’s trying to be discreet but can’t quite help himself. You pretend not to notice as you reach for the picnic basket.

“I’m starving,” you say, pulling out the sandwiches your grandmother packed. “Want one?”

He nods, sitting up a little straighter as you hand him a sandwich. After a few bites, curiosity gets the better of you, and you decide to break the ice. “So,” you start, glancing over at him, “how did you end up here, working on my grandparents’ farm?”

He takes his time chewing and swallowing before he answers, his eyes focused on the food in his hands. “I was passing through,” he says finally. “Didn’t plan on stayin’. But your grandparents… they’re good people. Needed help, so I stuck around.”

You nod, taking another bite. “They are good people,” you agree, thinking of how much they’ve done for you over the years. “But where were you headed before that? Where are you from?”

Logan pauses for a moment, then looks over at you. “Alberta,” he says. “Grew up there, mostly. Been a lot of places since, but Alberta’s home—or was.”

You smile, finding comfort in the fact that he’s sharing a bit more. “Alberta’s beautiful,” you say, remembering the few times you’d traveled through the province. “Why’d you leave?”

He shrugs, glancing out toward the creek. “Needed a change. Wanted to see what else was out there. Guess I got used to movin’ around, never really settlin’ anywhere.”

You nod thoughtfully, taking in his words. “Must have been hard, never really having a place to call home.”

His gaze meets yours, and there’s a hint of something softer in his eyes. “Yeah,” he admits, his voice quieter. “But your grandparents… they’ve made it easier. This farm… it’s good.”

You smile warmly at him. “I’m glad you’re here. You’ve been a huge help to them. And… well, I’ve liked having you around.”

He glances at you, his expression softening just a fraction. “Yeah, it’s been alright,” he mutters, a small, imperceptible smirk on his lips. You smile bashfully.

The next couple of hours pass by in a blur. Not much conversation happens, but rather, these weird periods of time where you feel as though your eyes are glued to him, and he you. It’s different—unexpected—and to put it frankly, you feel a bit shy underneath his gaze.

Logan is attractive, anyone with eyes could see that, but it really wasn’t just his face that pulled you in, it was him. The way he would silently help you with chores, his soft moments every morning with the horses, the way he subtly looks over your grandparents’ when he thinks they arent watching. All of it. You want to spend more time with him, learn more about who he is, what he likes… all of it.

Soon enough, you both begin to pack up the picnic supplies, load up the horses, and head back to the farm. The horses seem content, having had a fun day grazing and napping by the pond, and you ride beside him as he walks. Every now and then, you catch him peeking up at you from under his eyelashes, his eyes lingering just a bit longer each time.

You can see your grandparent’s car in the driveway as you near the farm, meaning they’ve also returned from their day in the city. Leading the horses back into the barn, the two of you go through the motions of the familiar routine of unsaddling them, brushing them down, and making sure they’re comfortable for the night.

Once they’re all settled for the night, Logan steps back, wiping his hands on his jeans as he looks at you.

“So ‘bout tomorrow…” He begins, shifting slightly, as if unsure how to phrase what he wants to say. “You really think you can teach me to ride?”

You grin excitedly. “Of course. I’ll come out after I’ve eaten breakfast.”

“Alright then,” he says, pivoting toward the doors, his lips twitching just barely, but enough. “Lookin’ forward to it.”

Your fingers are twitching at your sides as you watch him leave. You wait a few moments, then head out as well, closing and locking up the barn for the night. When you step into the house, you find your grandparents in the living room, their faces lit by the soft glow of a lamp as they relax on the chesterfield.

“How was your day?” your grandmother asks, looking up from her knitting with a bright smile.

“It was nice,” you reply. “The horses loved it, and the pond was as beautiful as ever. We had a picnic, and it was really peaceful.”

Your grandfather, who’s been quietly sipping his tea, sets down his cup and regards you with a knowing look. “And Logan? Did he go with you?”

You nod, feeling a bit of warmth rise to your cheeks at the mention of their helper. “Yeah, he came along. He’s never ridden a horse before, so he just walked with us. But I’m going to teach him tomorrow.”

Your grandparents exchange a look, and your grandmother’s eyes sparkle with amusement and something more tender as she smiles at you. “That’s good, dear. He’s a bit of a mystery, that one, but I can tell he’s got a good heart. Sometimes people just need a little time to open up.”

Chatting with your grandparent’s a bit longer, you listen intently as they fill you in on their activities. You can faintly hear the sound of Logan’s footsteps upstairs as he gets ready for bed. The memory of his gaze on you makes your heart beat a smidge faster.

—

Logan is unsurprisingly already at the barn when you arrive the next morning. He’s leaning against it, arms crossed over his chest.

“Morning,” you greet. “You ready to get started?”

Logan glances at the horses, then back at you. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

You lead him over to the horses, choosing one of the gentler ones for him to work with, and begin by showing him how to properly saddle the horse, explaining each step as you go. Logan watches intently, though you can see the slight furrow in his brow as he takes in all the information.

As soon as the horse is all saddled up, you hand him the reins. “Okay, now it’s your turn. Go ahead and mount up.”

He wavers for just a moment, his eyes on the horse as if weighing his options. But then, with a deep breath, he grabs the saddle and swings himself up with ease. He sits stiffly at first, his hands gripping the reins a bit too tightly, but he doesn’t look as uncomfortable as you would have expected. Definitely better than your first attempt.

“You’re doing great,” you reassure him, moving to stand beside the horse. “Just relax. The horse can sense if you’re tense, so try to loosen up a bit.”

He takes another breath, visibly trying to relax his posture. It’s clear that he’s out of his comfort zone, but he’s determined to push through. You walk him through the basics of steering and controlling the horse, keeping your tone calm and encouraging.

After a few minutes, you guide him around the paddock, walking alongside the horse to make sure he feels secure. Logan follows your instructions with serious concentration, his movements becoming more and more natural as he gets used to the rhythm of the horse’s steps.

“You’re doing really well,” you tell him, smiling up at him. “Want to try picking up the pace a little?”

He glances down at you warily at first, but then he nods. “Yeah. Let’s give it a shot.”

You guide him through a gentle trot, staying close enough to offer guidance but giving him enough space to figure things out on his own. The horse picks up speed, and you watch as he adjusts, his body moving in sync with the animal’s movements. There’s a moment when he looks down at you, a spark of surprise in his eyes as he realizes he’s actually getting the hang of it.

As the morning progresses, Logan becomes more comfortable in the saddle, his confidence growing with each passing minute. You spend the next hour practicing different techniques, guiding him through turns, stops, and even a slow canter. He’s a quick learner, and despite the initial awkwardness, you can tell he’s starting to enjoy himself.

Eventually, you lead him back to the paddock, bringing the horse to a stop. He dismounts, still a bit tense but clearly pleased with himself. He hands you the reins, his eyes meeting yours with a look that’s both grateful and slightly sheepish.

“Not bad for a first-timer,” you say with a grin, patting the horse’s neck.

He huffs a small laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, well… you’re a good teacher.”

The compliment, simple as it is, makes your heart skip a beat. There’s something about the way he says it, the sincerity in his tone, that makes you feel a warm glow inside. He begins to walk toward the back shed, undoubtedly going to start on his morning chores, but you find yourself wanting to hold onto this moment just a bit longer.

“Logan,” you call out, stopping him in his tracks.

He turns back, his eyes questioning.

“Thanks for this morning. I really enjoyed it.”

Logan studies you for a second, then he gives you a small smile. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “Me too.”

—

The days come and go, blending into one another as your first month at the farm passes by in what feels like the blink of an eye. The sun seems to rise earlier and set later with each passing day, stretching the hours out in a way that makes everything feel both languid and endless, and the heat only intensifies, something you didn’t think was possible.

Despite the longer days and rising temperatures, you and Logan’s daily routines have now intertwined in a way that feels as natural as breathing. The once solitary moments you spent watching him out with the horses have now become something shared. Every morning, without fail, the two of you meet by the barn, where the horses greet you with soft nickers and eager eyes, ready for their daily ride.

He’s improved a lot. He no longer looks uncomfortable or stiff, and he’s able to guide his horse with an ease that surprises even him. You can see the subtle shift in his posture, the way he holds the reins with a sureness that wasn’t there before.

And just like when you work on the farm together, sometimes, the two of you ride in a comfortable silence—the only sounds being the soft snorts of the horses and the creak of leather saddles. But more often than not, you chat about everything and nothing, your conversations easy and unforced.

Logan, who once spoke only in short, clipped sentences, has begun to open up more, sharing bits and pieces of his past, his thoughts, and his observations about life on the farm. You learn that he has a sarcastic, dry sense of humor, one that often catches you off guard and leaves you laughing in spite of yourself. He even joins you for your usual morning breakfast of eggs and toast, something that started only a few days into your new morning ritual.

Yet throughout all of this, there’s a something growing between you and Logan, simmering just beneath the surface.

It manifests in the little moments, the stolen glances, and the accidental touches that don’t really seem to be as accidental as you may think. It’s in the way his eyes follow you when he thinks you’re not looking, how they intensify when you laugh, or how he seems to fixate on your hands as you work, as if he’s memorizing every movement.

You’re not immune to it either. You find yourself hyper-aware of his presence, the way his proximity seems to alter the air around you. In one afternoon, you’re in the barn, and sorting through a pile of hay bales. It’s hard, sweaty work, but the it’s kind that leaves you with a satisfying ache in your muscles by the end of the day. Logan is beside you, lifting the heavy bales with ease, his shirt sticking to his back, outlining the broad expanse of his shoulders. You catch yourself staring, and quickly look away, but not before he flicks his eyes over to yours.

He doesn’t say anything, but you can see it in his eyes. It’s like they’re telling you that he knows exactly what you were thinking, where you were staring.

And when you’re both tending to the horses, something happens again. You’re brushing one down, your fingers working through its mane, when Logan comes to stand beside you, so close that you can smell his natural musk.

“Here, let me help,” he says lowly, not waiting for a response as he reaches out, his hand covering yours. You glance up at him, and he’s already looking down at you. You’re acutely aware of the feel of his hand over yours, the callousness of his skin against your own, and the way his thumb brushes lightly over your knuckles as if testing the waters.

Another time, while fixing the fence out in the field, you’re both working in tandem, passing tools back and forth. At one point, you reach for a hammer at the same time Logan does, and your fingers brush against his. It’s a fleeting touch, but it feels like a spark in the summer heat, and for a heartbeat, you both freeze, caught in that split second of contact.

“Sorry,” you mumble, pulling your hand back, but the apology feels hollow in the face of what you’re actually feeling.

“No problem,” Logan replies, his voice gruffer than usual, as he hands you the tool.

You can feel it. You’re not stupid. You know something is there, and you wonder how much longer you can resist it—how much longer you can pretend that everything is fine. But Logan is a hard man to read, and you’re not sure if what you’re feeling is reciprocated, or if it’s just wishful thinking on your part. So you stay silent, letting the tension simmer, hoping that one day, one of you will have the courage to break it.

—

You’re not the only who see’s it.

“You know,” your grandmother says one afternoon, as you’re helping them with a puzzle. “Logan has really come out of his shell since you’ve been here.”

You blink, and glance over at her. “What do you mean?”

She looks up from the table, her eyes twinkling with a mischievous light. “Oh, you know exactly what I mean,” she says with a knowing smile. “He’s been here for over a year, and in all that time, we’ve never seen him quite like this. He’s always been polite, of course, but distant. Reserved. But now… well, it’s clear he’s become quite comfortable around you.”

Your grandfather places a piece in the board and nods in agreement. “She’s right, you know. Logan’s always been a bit of a mystery, keeps to himself mostly. But ever since you arrived, he’s been different. More… engaged, I suppose you could say.”

You feel a flush of heat rising to your cheeks, your heart skipping a beat at their words. “I-I don’t know about that,” you stammer, trying to brush it off. “We just… work together a lot. That’s all.”

Chuckling, your grandmother leans forward slightly. “Darling, don’t be modest. It’d be obvious to anyone that there’s something going on between the two of you. He’s practically a different man when he’s around you. Why, just the other day, I caught him actually smiling while you two were out riding. I nearly fainted!”

“You’ve managed to do in weeks what we couldn’t do in a year. Whatever it is, it’s good for him. And for you, too, I’d wager,” your grandfather pipes in, sending you a wink.

Fidgeting with your hands, you feel like a deer caught in headlights, and you’re honestly not sure how to respond. “We’re… friends,” you say, though the words feel inadequate even as you say them.

The woman across from you raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Hmm? Well, maybe so. But it seems to me that there’s potential for something more there, if you’re both willing to see it.”

“I… I don’t know,” you mumble, feeling flustered under their scrutiny. “He’s just… he’s a complicated person.”

“Everyone’s complicated, dear,” your grandfather says gently. “But that doesn’t mean they’re not worth the effort. Oftentimes, the best things in life are the ones that take the most time to understand.”

There’s a moment of silence as their words sink in, the weight of their observations leaving you feeling exposed and uncertain. You hadn’t fully allowed yourself to consider what you felt, let alone what Logan felt. But now, with your grandparents’ teasing remarks, it’s impossible to ignore the possibility that there might be something more between you and Logan than just a budding friendship.

Your grandmother reaches over and gives your hand a comforting squeeze. “Just take it one day at a time, sweetheart. Whatever happens, we’re here for you.”

—

The following week, you find yourself itching for something new—a change in scenery. While the farm has been everything you’ve wanted and more, you think it’d be nice to go on a drive, explore a small laketown you used to go to when you were younger. So, one morning, as you and Logan are unsaddling the horses, you muster the courage to extend an invitation that’s been on your mind for days.

“So…,” you begin, trying to keep your tone casual. “I was thinking… maybe we could take a break from the farm this weekend and go into town. You know, just to get out for a bit, see something different.”

He pauses in his work, his hand stilling on the brush as he peers over at you with a raised eyebrow. “The town?” he repeats, as if the idea is foreign to him.

“Yeah,” you say, turning to face him fully. “I need to pick up a few things, and I thought it might be nice to have some company. We could grab lunch, maybe do some exploring… It doesn’t have to be anything fancy. Just a change of pace.”

There’s a beat of silence as he considers your offer. His expression is guarded, as always, but you can see the wheels turning in his mind. It’s clear that the idea of leaving the farm, even for a day, is something he hasn’t done in a long time—if ever.

“I don’t know,” he eventually gets out, his tone uncertain. “Busy places are not really my thing.”

You feel a pang of disappointment at his hesitation, but you’re not ready to give up just yet. “I get that,” you say. “But it’s not about how many people are there, really. It’s about taking a break. You’ve been working so hard, and I think you deserve a day to relax. Plus, I could use your help carrying a few things,” you tease, hoping to coax him into agreeing.

Logan’s lips twitch as if he’s suppressing a smile, and for a split second you think he’s going to turn you down. But then he sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Alright,” he says, the word coming out almost reluctantly. “I’ll go.”

You beam, unable to hide your enthusiasm. “We’ll leave early on Saturday, okay?”

“Saturday it is,” he confirms.

—

The rest of the week passes quickly, your anticipation for the trip into town growing with each passing day. You find yourself planning out the day in your head, imagining the places you might visit, the food you might try, and most of all, the chance to see Logan in a different environment—away from the farm and the routine that has defined your relationship so far.

So, when Saturday morning arrives, you’re up before the sun, too excited to sleep in. You dress in your favourite casual clothes—something comfortable but a bit more put-together than your usual farm attire—and head downstairs, where you find your grandparents surprisingly already up and about.

“Off to the city today, are you?” your grandmother asks with a smile as she hands you a thermos of coffee for the road.

“Yep,” you reply, unable to keep the grin off your face. “and I’m dragging Logan along with me.”

Your grandfather chuckles, shaking his head. “Well, that should be interesting. Don’t think he’s much of a city slicker.”

“Be patient with him, dear,” your grandmother adds, laughing. “He’s stepping out of his comfort zone for you.”

“I will,” you promise, taking the coffee and heading out the door.

Logan’s already waiting by the truck, and when you see him, you can’t help but falter in your steps. The shirt he’s wearing clings to his muscular frame in a way that draws your eyes, accentuating the strength that’s always been evident. His hair is slightly disheveled, and there’s an almost shy quality to the way he stands there, his hands shoved into his pockets as if he’s not quite sure what to do with them.

You try to hide the fact that you were just checking him out as you ask, “Ready?”

“‘Course,” he replies, climbing into the passenger seat as you slide behind the wheel.

The highways are empty and the sky is clear. You chat easily about the things you need to pick up, the cute boutiques you want to visit, and even a few memories of the last time you visited the place. Logan listens more than he talks, but you can tell he’s starting to relax, the tightness in his shoulders easing as the distance passes by.

When you finally reach the town, the energy along the streets is a stark contrast to the quiet calm of the farm. The buildings tower above you, and the sidewalks are crowded with people going about their day.

Stepping out of the truck, you glance over at Logan. It’s clear that he’s out of his element, but there’s something cute about the way he takes it all in. “Where to first?” He questions.

“Well,” you say, smiling at him, “I was thinking we could grab some breakfast at this little café I know, then hit a few shops. There’s a bookstore I love that I think you’d like too.”

He nods, his expression softening slightly at the mention of a bookstore. “Lead the way.”

You spend the morning wandering around, exploring the shops, and enjoying a nice breakfast together. At the bookstore, you lose track of time, browsing through the shelves and picking out a few titles that catch your eye. Logan surprises you by finding a book on woodworking, something he’s always been interested in but never had much time for. You can see the way his eyes light up as he flips through the pages, and it makes you smile, happy to see him enjoying something for himself.

After spending a few more hours of exploring, you suggest one last stop before heading back—a lookout point that offers a stunning view of the lake and the surrounding landscape. Logan agrees, and you drive up to the spot, parking the truck and leading him to a bench that overlooks the water.

The view is breathtaking. You both sit in silence for a while, just taking in the scenery, allowing the peacefulness of the moment to wash over you. He is staring out into the water with a thoughtful expression when you decide to interrupt his stupor.

“Logan,” you begin, the gentle breeze from the lake rustling through the trees, “what did you think of me when we first met?”

He turns his head slightly, his eyes meeting yours with a hint of surprise, as if he wasn’t expecting the question. Then he pauses for a moment, looking back out at the lake, as if gathering his thoughts.

“I thought you were different,” he says slowly, each word carefully chosen. “You didn’t act like you were above the work. You jumped right in, got your hands dirty. Most people wouldn’t do that.”

You smile at the memory, remembering how you started working together the moment you met. After all, you weren’t just a visitor—you were there to help, and you knew your way around the farm. “And now?” you ask, your heart beginning to beat just a little faster.

He remains quiet for a few moments, his focus still on the water. When he finally speaks, he’s timid, almost bashful, as if he’s revealing something he’s kept hidden for a long time.

“I think you’re beautiful,” he admits, his eyes flickering back to yours. “I thought that the first time I saw you, too. It was one of the first things that hit me. But it’s more than that. Now… now I think you’re perfect.”

The sincerity in his words catches you off guard, leaving you momentarily speechless. Your mouth parts in surprise, and all you can do is gawk, trying to process the depth of what he’s just said.

Logan shifts slightly, his gaze dropping to his hands as he continues. “I was… cold at first,” he murmurs, “Didn’t know how else to act. You weren’t like anyone I’d ever met. I didn’t know how to handle it. But what really got to me was how you didn’t shy away from that—you didn’t let my attitude push you away. That changed somethin’ in me.”

You want to say something—you should say something—to acknowledge what he just said, bearing in mind that was probably the most amount of words to come out of his mouth in one go, but for some reason, you can’t. The only thought running through your head is that you want to reach out and touch him, to close the small distance between you.

“What about you?” His voice is slightly more tentative now, and he definitely just asked that to fill the silence that you were ungraciously leaving. “What was your first impression of me?”

His question snaps you out of your thoughts, and you gulp, now knowing that your first impression of him was very different to his of you.

“Honestly? I thought you were rude as hell,” you say a bit nervously, watching as his eyebrows raise slightly in surprise. “You were so gruff, so serious… I didn’t know what to make of you at first. But then I saw the way you took care of the horses, the way you looked after the farm, and… it didn’t take long for my opinion to change.”

He shifts, clearly caught off guard. You can see the faintest hint of a blush creeping up his neck as he takes in what you said, and it makes your smile widen.

“And…You’re kind,” you continue. “There’s this gentleness about you that I wasn’t expecting.” You suck in a shaky breath. “I think you’re pretty perfect now too, if I’m being honest.”

The tint on his cheeks only deepens, and he looks away, flustered. It’s a rare sight—seeing him like this—and it makes you swoon.

“I don’t know about that…” He mutters, a small, embarrassed smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“I do,” you reply firmly. “You’re more than you think you are, Logan.”

The genuineness in your words makes him look back at you, his eyes searching yours for something—reassurance, maybe, or confirmation that what you’re saying is real. Slowly, almost unconsciously, you both lean in closer, locked in a stare, your breaths mingling as the space between you shrinks. You can see the way his eyes flicker down to your lips, and you feel the same pull, the undeniable urge to close the distance and see what it would feel like to kiss him overriding all your senses.

Your chest pounds as you inch closer, until you can feel the warmth of his breath on your skin. But just as your lips are about to meet, a loud, piercing scream shatters the moment.

You both jerk back, startled, and whip your heads around to see a kid nearby, his face scrunched up in disgust as he frantically wipes at his shoulder. “Ew! A seagull just pooped on me!”

The kid’s parents rush over, trying to console him as they pull out napkins, and you can’t help but burst out laughing at the absurdity of the interruption. The sound of your laughter is contagious, and soon Logan is chuckling a bit too.

“Well, that’s one way to kill the mood,” he mumbles under is breath.

You’re still laughing, the remnants of your almost-kiss still in the back of your mind, but you know the moment has passed. “Yeah,” you agree, trying to catch your breath. “Guess we should be thankful it wasn’t us.”

Logan grins, warm and wide. “Yeah, maybe we should.”

—

Driving back to the farm, neither of you say a word about what almost transpired at the lookout point, and you’re fine with that. There’s no need to fill the silence with words, no need to dissect the moment or what it could have led to. You don’t want there to be any sort of pressure between you, any expectations. Even if, deep down, all you want is to climb him like a tree, to feel the solid strength of him beneath your hands, and to finally give in to the attraction that’s been building throughout your time together.

Pulling into the driveway and shutting of the engine, you turn to him, and turns to you, his eyes meeting yours. “Thanks for today,” he says sincerely “I… liked it.”

You smile, feeling a warmth spread through you at his words. “Me too,” you reply, your voice just as soft. “We should do it again sometime.”

“Yeah,” Logan agrees, his gaze holding yours a hint longer before he turns away, his hand reaching for the door handle. “We should.”

—

A few days later, as everyone sits around the kitchen table after dinner, the evening suddenly takes on a new tone when your grandmother clears her throat and shoots an exchanges a conspiratorial glance at your grandfather.

“We’ve got some news,” she begins, her eyes shining with excitement. “Your grandfather and I have been invited to spend a week at the Summers’ cottage by the lake.”

You smile, genuinely happy for them. The Summers are longtime friends of your grandparents, and the idea of them getting a little vacation away sounds perfect. “That sounds wonderful! You two deserve some time to relax.”

“Well, we thought so too,” your grandfather says. “But that means we’ll be leaving the farm in your capable hands.”

It takes a moment for the full meaning of his words to sink in. You and Logan… alone… for an entire week.

Your heart skips a beat and you glimpse over at Logan, who’s sitting across the table from you, his expression neutral as he listens to your grandparents. But there’s a quick flash of something that suggests he’s as aware of the situation as you are.

A voice brings you back to the moment. “Now, don’t worry,” she says with a reassuring smile. “There’s not much that needs doing, just the usual stuff. And we’ll be back before you know it.”

Your grandfather leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest as he scans between you and Logan. “We trust you both to keep everything running smoothly,” he says, before he drops his voice to an embarrassingly low tone. “And to keep an eye on each other.”

You can’t help but blush at his not-so-subtle innuendo, and you quickly drop your gaze to your hands, trying to hide the warmth creeping up your cheeks. The thought of spending an entire week alone with Logan is both thrilling and nerve-wracking. The lack of a buffer—your grandparents—means that literally anything could happen.

“Don’t worry,” you finally manage to say. “We’ve got this. You two just enjoy your time away.”

Logan, who has been uncharacteristically quiet during the conversation, finally speaks up. “Yeah,” he agrees, “We’ll take care of everything.”

—

Over the next couple of days, your grandparents pack their bags and make sure everything is in order before they leave. You help them with the small details, ensuring that the house is stocked with food and that all the usual chores are delegated properly.

Finally, the morning of their departure arrives. You stand by the front door, watching as your grandparents load their bags into the car. Your grandmother gives you a warm hug, “Take care, dear,” she says, kissing your cheek before hopping into the passenger’s seat.

Your grandfather shakes Logan’s hand, giving him a firm nod. “Take care of things.”

He hums. “I will. Enjoy yourselves.”

With that, your grandparents climb into the car, and after a final wave, they drive down the long, dusty road that leads away from the farm.

There’s a pause.

Suddenly, you’ve become extremely aware of how close you two are standing.

“So,” you start, hoping to ease a bit of the electricity beginning to spark. “I guess it’s just us now.”

Logan swallows thickly, his adams apple bobbing up and down. “Yeah,” he replies a bit deeper than usual. “Just us.”

“What should we do first?” you ask as casually as possible.

He shrugs slightly, his lips curving into the faintest hint of a smile. “Same old, I guess. Can’t let everythin’ fall apart right when they leave..”

“True. Let’s start with that.”

The two of you move into that familiar routine of farm work. Mucking out the stalls, hauling bags of feed from the shed to the barn, tending to the vegetable garden, you do it all. But even though you’re busy with work, there’s an underlying jitter to everything you do, a heightened awareness of each other’s presence that just wasn’t there before. And it’s impossible to ignore. Each time you make eyecontact it feels charged, almost like a promise of what’s to come, and it has your heart racing with exhilaration.

That evening, after the chores are done and the sun has dropped below the horizon, you’re in the kitchen, preparing dinner while Logan finishes up outside. The quiet of the farmhouse feels different without your grandparents there—emptier, yet somehow more intimate. Domestic. You can hear the soft creak of the floorboards as he enters the house, the sound of him washing up in the sink.

And as the evening wears on, you find yourself drawing out cleaning the dishes, not wanting to end the day just yet. Logan stays close, drying the plates and placing them back in the cupboards.

“Long day,” he grunts.

“Yeah,” you agree, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. “But it was nice. Peaceful.”

His eyes find yours. “Peaceful,” he echoes, though the word seems to hold a different meaning when he says it.

You both stay there, unmoving, until eventually, he takes a step back, as if sensing that the tension between you needs a moment to cool. “I’ll check on the barn,” he says gruffly. “Make sure everything’s locked up for the night.”

“Okay,” you reply, your voice softer than you intended.

Logan leaves to check on the barn, while he’s gone, your thoughts are a whirlwind of anticipation and nervous energy as you busy yourself with finishing up the remaining utensils.

Finally, unable to stay inside any longer, you decide to step outside, hoping the cool evening air will help clear your mind. You sink down onto the old porch swing, and pull your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them as you observe the darkened landscape.

A few minutes later, you hear the soft crunch of gravel underfoot, and you glance over your shoulder to see Logan approaching the porch. He walks up the steps and pauses momentarily as if debating whether to join you. Then, with a soft sigh, he settles down beside you, his shoulder just barely brushing against yours.

It’s now or never, you think. “We have the place to ourselves now,” you state.

He turns his head slightly, giving you a sidelong look, the corner of his mouth quirking up into a small, knowing smirk. “Indeed we do,” he replies.

The simple acknowledgment—and the way he says it—makes your pulse quicken, and you can’t help the small huff of exasperation that escapes your lips. He’s always been so tame, so careful with his words, and while you appreciate the way he’s respected your space, you’re done with tiptoeing around.

“Do I need to spell it out for you, or—” But before you can finish the sentence, Logan moves.

His hand reaches out, rough and warm, to cup the back of your head. Your eyes widen, and your heart thuds in your chest upon realizing what’s about to happen. And with a firm but gentle pull, he closes the distance between you, his lips crashing against yours.

You lose track of your surroundings—the night, the farm, everything—as you give yourself into feel of his lips against yours. It’s intense and claiming, a declaration of everything you’ve both been too afraid to say.

His hand tangles in your hair, holding you close as he deepens the kiss, his other hand coming to rest on your waist, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you. Your hands find their way to his shoulders, gripping the fabric of his shirt as if to ground yourself in the moment, to make sure this is real, that he’s really here, kissing you.

Moving your lips against his with equal fervor, you pour the longing you’ve been feeling all this time into it. The taste of him is intoxicating. It’s something that’s so uniquely him—so uniquely Logan—and you can’t get enough. You’ve imagined this moment in the dead of night, but nothing compares to the reality of it—to the way he kisses you like you’re the only thing that matters.

When you finally pull back, out of breath and a little dazed, Logan’s forehead rests against yours, his breath coming in heavy, uneven pants. His eyes are smoldering and intense and his smirk is gone, replaced by a deep look of yearning.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” he admits huskily. The way his voice has dropped three octaves isn’t missed on you. You can practically feel it vibrate down in your pu—

“You’re not the only one,” You whisper, interrupting your own thoughts. The connection between you has finally been acknowledged, and you feel a huge sense of relief.

He exhales a breath you didn’t realize he was holding, and his hand slips from the back of your head to cup your face, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw. “Good,” he murmurs. “Because I don’t think I can hold back anymore.”

You lean in, pressing another kiss to his lips. “Then don’t,” you whisper against his mouth.

The spark that has been ignited between you flares up into a full blown fire, and the next kiss quickly becomes more heated. Without breaking it, Logan’s grip on your waist tightens and you let out a soft gasp as he effortlessly lifts you onto his lap. Your legs straddle his hips, and you can feel the beginning of something growing underneath you.

The sensation is dizzying, and you instinctively press yourself closer, your fingers curling into his hair. The swing beneath you creaks softly with the movement, but neither of you pays it any mind, too lost in each other to care.

You shift slightly on his lap, grinding your hips against him, and the movement draws a deep, throaty groan from him. He pulls back just enough to catch his breath, “God, you drive me crazy,” and then he’s on you again.

It’s wild. Hot, and heavy, and utterly consuming. His hands move from your hips to grip your ass, guiding you to move against him. It feels so good, you release a relieved sigh into his mouth, before dropping your head onto his shoulder, too caught up in the pleasure.

The sounds of your moans fill the air as he continues grinding you against him, his own hips bucking up into your core.

Biting your lip, you lift your head slightly, a teasing smile tugs at the corners of your mouth as your eyes dart toward the open door of the farmhouse. “You know,” you begin tilting forward to bite his ear, your voice low and playful, “as much as I’m enjoying being out here, I think we should take this inside.”

Logan’s lips quirk up into a sexy smirk. “As you wish,” he murmurs.

As you stand up, your legs a little shaky from what just occured, you peek back at him, and see that he’s already risen to his feet. Stepping closer, you slip your hand into his as you guide him toward the door. But just as you reach the threshold, a thought crosses your mind, and you pause, turning to look up at him with a mischievous glint in your eyes.

“We gotta go to your room,” you say, running your hands up and down his arms, feeling them flex underneath your touch.“I don’t think I’m ready to defile my childhood bedroom just yet.”

He raises an eyebrow, a grin spreading across his face as he catches on to what you’re implying. “Oh, is that so?” he asks, his tone filled with mock seriousness. You wink in return. grabbing one of his hands and dragging him inside.

By the time you reach his door, you’re practically vibrating with excitement, your breath coming in quick, shallow bursts. The room is simple, and the bed, neatly made, sits in the center of the room. You can’t help but laugh at the thought of how different it will look in just a few moments.

You turn to face Logan, but he doesn’t give you time to say anything, his hand reaching out, his fingers brushing against your cheek in a touch that is both tender and possessive. His thumb traces the line of your jaw as he cups your face, his eyes searching yours for any hint of hesitation.

But there’s none. You’ve never been more sure of anything in your life. The need for him, for this, is so overwhelming that it’s taking every ounce of strength in you to keep from throwing yourself onto him.

His lips find yours once more, this time more urgent, more demanding than before. He pulls you closer, his body pressing against yours. “Are you sure about this?” he asks in between kisses.

“Absolutely,” you mumble breathlessly, your hands sliding up his chest to curl around the back of his neck. The word barely leaves your lips before Logan reacts, a low hum rumbling in his chest as if your answer has unleashed something primal within him.

He kicks the door shut behind him with a force that makes the room tremble slightly, and in the same fluid motion, he pins you against the wall, lips never leaving yours as his body cages you in.

One of his thighs nudges its way between yours, the rough fabric of his jeans brushing against the sensitive spot between your legs. The friction is maddening, electric, and it hits just right, sending a jolt of pleasure up your spine that rips a moan from your throat.

The sound only spurs Logan on, his own need evident in the way he moves against you. He moves his mouth to your neck, trailing up and down it with hungrily. The feel of his mouth on your skin, the way his teeth graze your pulse point, causes you to arch against him, your hands clutching at his shoulders for support.

You can feel the warmth of his breath as he presses his lips to the sensitive spot just below your ear, his tongue flicking out to taste your skin, as his hands explore your body. They’re everywhere—one gripping your hip, holding you steady against the wall, the other sliding up your side to brush against the curve of your breast. His fingers find the hem of your shirt, tugging it up, and you lift your arms to help him, the fabric sliding up and over your head before it’s tossed carelessly to the floor.

Bringing his lips back to yours, the kiss is fiery, stealing all the oxygen from your lungs as he pushes you even harder into against the wall, his thigh still working its magic. You can’t help the way your hips rock against him, the need for more—more pressure, more friction, more him.

Logan seems to sense your desperation, moaning when his hand slips down from your breast to the waistband of your jeans. He fumbles with the button for only a moment before he gets it open, his fingers slipping inside to brush against the soft skin of your lower belly. He pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, his gaze tempting and filled with a desire that matches your own.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he mutters, voice thick with want. “No idea why I waited so long.”

You can barely think, let alone form words, but you manage to breathe out, “Don’t need to wait any longer.”

The words seem to be all the encouragement he needs. In one swift motion, he slides your pants and underwear down your legs, his hands careful as he helps you step out of them. You’re left standing before him, bare and vulnerable, but the way he’s staring at you—like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen—makes you feel powerful, desired in a way you’ve never felt before.

He pulls you back into him, and this time, you can feel the hardness of his own desire against yours—bare— and it drives you insane. His grip finds you thighs as he lifts you off the ground and carries you the short distance to the bed. He lays you down gently on his bed, and breaks away long enough to strip off his own clothes. The sight of him—strong, muscular, yours—makes your breath catch in your throat.

There’s a moment where he’s standing above you, just staring, his chest rising and falling with the effort to control himself. But then he’s on you again in an instant, his body pressing yours into the mattress, his lips claiming yours and leaving you dizzy.

You lean up into him, your hands sliding up his back, feeling the play of muscles beneath his skin as he moves against you. The need for more builds up to a breaking point, and you can’t help the soft moan that escapes your lips as he grinds into you, hard and insistent against your core.

“Logan,” you breathe out. “Please.”

His name on your lips seems to break the last of his control, a desperate groan ripping out of him. He begins travelling down your body, taking his time, his lips tracing a slow, deliberate path, each kiss leaving a burning trail in its wake. His hands follow the curve of your waist, your hips, his fingers digging into your skin with just the right amount of pressure to make you gasp. Your body is practically begging for him, and you know that you’re on the verge of begging too.

Once he makes it down to your thighs, he nudges them apart, giving him better access to you. He nips and bites at them, moaning along with you. And then, with a deep, almost possessive growl, he finally lowers his mouth to you, his tongue flicking out to taste you. You react immediately, a wave of pleasure coming over you, your hands fly into his hair, tugging at the strands as you try to pull him closer.

Logan’s hands tightening their grip on your thighs as he delves deeper. You’re lost in the sensations, the pleasure growing and growing until it’s all you can think about, all you can feel. Your body is on fire, every nerve ending alight with desire, and the only thing that matters is the way he is making you feel, the way he’s driving you toward a release that you know will be earth-shattering.

And then, just as you think you can’t take any more, he pulls back slightly, his lips still hovering over you as he looks up at you, eyes black. “Tell me what you want,” he commands.

You can barely think, let alone form coherent words, but you manage to breathe out, “You. I want–I need you.”

That seems to be wanted he wanted to hear, so with a final kiss to your inner thigh, he moves back up your body, connecting his lips to yours again. You can taste yourself on his tongue as his hands slide under your thighs, lifting you slightly to position himself at your entrance.

The anticipation is almost too much, the need for him so immense that you can’t hold back the whimper that escapes your lips as begins to push, the tip of him just barely inside you, teasing, testing your patience.

“Oh god,” you moan. “I need you. Please.”

And then, finally, Logan gives you what you’ve been wanting since that time at the pond. With one slow, deliberate thrust, he pushes inside you, filling you up completely.

Everything seems to stop for a moment, the only sound the ragged gasps of breath between you, the only feeling the overwhelming pleasure of being joined together like this, of finally having what you’ve both wanted for so long.

He pauses, lowering his head in the crook of your neck as he lets you adjust to the feeling, his breath hot and heavy against your collarbone. And then he begins to move, slow and steady at first, each thrust driving you closer to the edge, the coil inside you tightening with every stroke. The feel of him inside you, the way he moves against you, is everything you’ve been dreaming of and more, and you can’t help the way your body responds to him, your hips lifting to meet his every movement.

The gentle, deliberate pace soon gives way to something more urgent, more desperate, as the need for release takes over. Each thrust drives you higher, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable level, until teetering on the edge.

And then, he sends you over it. The orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, your entire body shuddering with the intensity of it, your voice lost in the cry of pure ecstasy that escapes your lips. Logan follows you a moment later, his own release crashing into him hard, his body trembling against yours as he buries himself deep inside you, his breath hot and ragged against your neck as a loud, deep, groan reverberates in his throat.

Neither of you can move, lost in the aftermath of your shared pleasure, your bodies still entwined, as you come down from the high. He tightens his arms around you, pressing a kiss to your temple as he tries to catch his breath. And when he does, he pulls back just enough to look into your eyes.

“You okay?” he murmurs.

You nod, reaching up to cup his face in your hands, your thumbs gently brushing over the rough stubble on his cheeks. “I’m more than okay,” you whisper back, voice full of emotion. “That was… everything.”

A small smile tugs at the corners of Logan’s lips, and he leans down to press a soft kiss to your forehead, his arms still wrapped securely around you. “Yeah, it was,” he agrees.

Eventually, he eases out of you with a tenderness that makes you sigh softly. He walks out into the washroom, and gets a warm towel, wiping you and himself down. After, he settles beside you on the bed, his arm draped over your waist, holding you close. The two of you stay like that for a long time, wrapped in each other’s arms, until the exhaustion of the day begins to catch up with you, and you feel your eyes growing heavy.

“Get some rest,” you hear, “We’ve got plenty of time… no need to rush.”

You nod sleepily, snuggling closer to him as you let your eyes drift shut, the steady pulse of his heart lulling you into a peaceful sleep.

—

You wake to the feeling of warmth and security, Logan’s breathing against your ear, his arm still clinging possessively over your waist. The events of the previous night come rushing back, and a satisfied smile curves your lips as you snuggle closer to him.

But it isn’t long before that peaceful contentment becomes something more. As you move around, the feel of his skin against yours, the warmth of his breath on your neck, and the memory of the passion ignites a familiar heat low in your belly

He stirs beside you, his hand tightening around your waist as if sensing your thoughts. Pulling you closer, his nose nuzzles against your neck, his lips brushing over the sensitive skin there.

His voice is rough with sleep as he murmurs against your skin, “Morning…”

The simple word, spoken in that deep, gravelly tone, is enough to make you ache for him all over again. You turn in his arms, meeting his gaze, and the look in his eyes—dark and hungry—tells you that he feels the same way.

The morning starts in the best way possible, the both of you breathless, spent, and with the knowledge that this isn’t a one-time thing. The connection between you is too strong, too consuming to be satisfied with just one night or even one morning. And as the day stretches out before you, the realization hits that this hunger, this need, will follow you both everywhere you go.

Throughout the week, the two of you are completely insatiable for each other. It’s like the floodgates have opened and have no intention of closing. Every moment you’re together becomes an opportunity.

It starts innocently enough—just a kiss in the barn when you’re supposed to be checking on the horses. But that kiss quickly spirals and before you know it, Logan has you pressed up against the wooden wall, his lips on your neck, his hands roaming your body. The scent of hay and leather mixes with the heady scent of him as he takes you right there, the barn filled with the sound of your moans and the creak of the old wooden beams.

Or when you’re in the back shed, ostensibly looking for some tools to finish up some chores, the moment the door closes behind you, and you both know there’s no point in pretending. Logan’s hands are on you before you can even say a word, lifting you onto the workbench with ease as he claims your lips in a searing kiss.

At the pond too, the tranquil, secluded spot now holds an entirely different kind of allure to what it had before. One afternoon, you find yourselves there again, the cool water calling your name. But as you strip down to swim, the sight of him watching you is enough to make it seem less inviting than the feel of his hands on your skin. You pull him in with you, the rippling water doing nothing to muffle the sounds of your shared pleasure.

By the end of the week, you’re exhausted but in the best possible way, your body and soul both filled with the kind of satisfaction that comes from truly giving in to what you want, to who you are together. And as the sun sets on the final day of your week alone together, you find yourselves back in Logan’s room, the place where it all began.

The bed, once neat and tidy, is now a tangle of sheets and pillows, the evidence of your shared moments of bliss scattered around the room. Logan lies beside you, his hand gently stroking your hair as you rest your head on his chest, the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your ear.

“This week… it’s been more than I ever expected,” he admits quietly, his fingers brushing gently over your skin. “I don’t want it to end.”

You lift your head to look at him, your eyes meeting his, and you can see the same emotion reflected there—the same desire to hold on to what you’ve found together. “It doesn’t have to,” you reply. “We don’t have to go back to the way things were before.”

Logan’s hand tightens around yours, a small, almost imperceptible smile curving his lips. “No, we don’t,” he concurs.

—

The morning your grandparents arrive, you and Logan are in the kitchen, finishing up lunch. Your grandmother is the first to step through the door, her face lighting up as she sees the two of you. “We’re back!” she announces, her voice cheerful as she sets her bag down by the door.

You rise to greet her, giving her a warm hug. “How was the trip?”

“Oh, it was lovely,” she replies, her eyes twinkling as she pulls back to look at you. “The cottage was just as beautiful as ever. And the Summers send their love.”

Your grandfather enters next, a gleeful smile on his face as he takes in the sight of you and Logan in the kitchen, together. “Everything go smoothly while we were gone?” he asks.

You blush. “Yes, everything was fine.”

Then they do that thing they’ve been doing the whole time you’ve been with them, where they exchange a glance—and share a look that speaks volumes. It’s the kind of look that only comes from years of understanding each other without words, and you can tell they knew exactly what they were doing when they left you and Logan alone for the week.

“Well, that’s good to hear,” your grandmother says with a mischievous smile, her eyes flicking between you two in a way that makes you wonder just how much they’ve guessed.

“Seems like you two managed just fine without us.” Your grandfather says, patting Logan on the shoulder.

You can feel the heat rising to your cheeks, and you steal a look at Logan, who meets your eyes with a small smirk. It’s a way to tell you that he’s just as aware as you are of what your grandparents are thinking. But there’s no embarrassment on his face, only a quiet confidence, a certainty that whatever happened between you was exactly what was meant to be.

—

The next month flies by, the routine of everything staying largely the same except for one thing. You and Logan are inseparable, drawn to each other like magnets, and with each passing day, it seems like that attraction only grows stronger.

It’s not just the passion that binds you, though that spark is always there, and most often times doesn’t go ignored. It’s the little moments that fill your days—the way his hand brushes yours as you walk side by side, the way he rests a gentle hand on the small of your back when you’re working together in the barn, or the way his fingers grip your waist as he helps you mount your horse (even though you don’t need it).

The work on the farm continues to get done, but there’s a new layer to everything you do—a sense of shared purpose, of partnership. And even though the days are long and tiring, you find yourself looking forward to each task, knowing that Logan will be there beside you, sharing the load, offering his quiet support and his easy, comforting presence.

As the sun begins to rise one breakfast, you grandfather announces that he needs to run into town to pick up some tools for a repair project. He’s heading out the door, and as he grabs his keys from the hook, he turns to Logan with a nod.

“Logan, why don’t you come along? Could use an extra pair of hands,” he suggests, his tone casual.

Your man agrees without hesitation, always ready to lend a hand. But as he follows your grandfather out the door, he pauses for just a moment, whirling back to look at you, and what you see on his face is insane—there’s a deep yearning, a longing that tugs on your heartstrings. It’s almost as if to say that he wishes he could stay, he doesn’t want to be apart from you, even for the short trip into town.

You have half a mind to join them.

The intensity of that look lingers in the air long after he’s turned away and stepped out the door, and your grandmother doesn’t miss a thing. Once the men are in the truck and begin to drive off the property, she turns to you with a teasing smile, one eyebrow raised in amusment.

“He’s really got it bad for you, doesn’t he?” she says affectionately. “I’ve never seen a man look at a woman the way he looks at you.”

Your heart blooms in your chest. “I guess he does,” you reply, your voice soft, breathless as the weight of your feelings for him wash over you.

Your grandmother chuckles, stepping closer to place her hand on your arm “And you’ve got it bad for him too, I’d say.”

You laugh. “Yeah, I do.”

—

Several weeks later, it’s raining. That should have been the first sign that this day wasn’t going to go to plan. You’re sitting inside, curled up next to Logan on the old chesterfield, his arm wrapped around you as you both enjoy the warmth and quiet of the afternoon.

But then you decide to go through some emails—just a quick check, nothing more, to clear out any lingering notifications. You unlock your phone and start scrolling through your inbox, Logan’s fingers tracing lazy circles on your shoulder as you do. Most of the emails are routine—newsletters, updates, the usual clutter—but then you see it, nestled among the others like a tiny, unexpected bombshell.

It’s an email from the company you applied to months ago, the one you almost forgot about in the blissful haze of farm life. The subject line makes your heart skip a beat: Congratulations! Offer of Employment.

Your breath catches, and you sit up a little straighter, your heart pounding in your chest as you open the email. The words leap off the screen: We are pleased to offer you the position, starting in two months.

You stare at the email, a mixture of shock and elation washing over you. This is it—your dream job, the opportunity you’ve been working toward for years. It’s everything you’ve ever wanted, the kind of position that could set the course for your entire career. But as the initial wave of excitement begins to ebb, a heavy weight settles in your chest, pulling you back down to earth.

You glance over at Logan, who’s still relaxed beside you. His eyes are closed, his head resting back against the couch. The sight of him, so content, makes your heart ache, because with this job offer comes a harsh reality: accepting it means leaving him, leaving this life you’ve built together, at least for a while. And you don’t know when—or even if—you’ll be back.

Suddenly, his eyes flutter open in response to your shifting, and he looks over at you, concern flickering across his features. “What’s wrong?” he asks.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. “I… I just got an email,” you begin shakily as you turn the screen toward him so he can read it for himself.

He takes the phone from your hand, his eyes scanning the email. You watch his expression carefully, searching for any sign of what he’s feeling. At first, there’s no reaction, just the steady, focused way he reads the words. Yet as he reaches the end, you see it—the subtle tightening of his jaw, the pinching together of his eyebrows.

He hands the phone back to you wordlessly.

Then, “This is what you’ve been waiting for.” His voice is steady, but there’s a sadness there too, a heaviness that you can’t ignore.

You nod, feeling tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “Yeah… it is.”

There’s a long stretch of nothing, the sound of the rain outside filling the silence between you. Logan looks away, his gaze fixed on the fire as if trying to find the right words. When he finally speaks, his voice is low, measured. “You have to take it.”

You swallow hard. “But what about us? I don’t know when I’ll be back… or if I’ll even be able to come back.”

Logan’s hand tightens around yours, his grip firm, grounding. “We’ll figure it out,” he says, though you can hear the strain in his voice, the way he’s trying to hold back his own emotions for your sake. “You’ve worked too hard for this to pass it up.”

His words are supportive, encouraging, but you can see the the way he’s starting to close in on himself, as if already bracing himself for your departure. The thought of being apart from him is unbearable.

You lean into his touch, your head resting on his shoulder, and he wraps his arms around you, holding you close. “I don’t want to leave you,” you whisper as the tears finally spill over.

He presses a kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering there as if trying to convey all the things he can’t bring himself to say. “I don’t want you to leave either,” he admits. “But I’ll be here when you get back. However long it takes.”

And so begins the countdown to your departure. You always knew it was going to come, always knew you were going to have to leave your grandparents again, but you didn’t expect to find the love of your life here, and that makes it so much harder.

—

The remaining two months become a bittersweet blend of cherished moments and a looming sense of inevitability. Each day feels both precious and fleeting, a constant reminder that your time together is running out, and it shapes every decision, every action, every word between you.

In the past, your days had been filled with the rhythm of farm life—early mornings, long hours of work, and evenings spent in each other’s arms, exhausted but content. But now, there’s a conscious effort to carve out time just for you two, time that’s not dictated by chores or routine. You start taking more trips to the pond or into town, something you hadn’t quite as often before.

These dates are different from the intense, passionate moments you’ve shared on the farm—they’re softer, more tender, as if you’re both trying to imprint each other’s presence into your memories. You hold hands as you walk on the streets, your fingers intertwined, and every now and then, Logan will pull you close, pressing a kiss to your temple or your lips, as if he needs to reassure himself that you’re still there with him.

Even the way you make love changes during these months. The hunger and desire that had once defined your physical relationship are still there, of course—Logan’s touch still ignites a fire in you, and the need for each other still burns as hot as ever—but now, there’s a new dimension to your intimacy, a slow, sensual depth that hadn’t been there before.

Your grandparents, upon hearing the news, immediately noticed the change too. While they were so extremely happy for your new job opportunity, they also knew what it meant. They’ve seen the way you and Logan have grown closer, the way your connection has deepened, and there’s a quiet sadness in their eyes whenever they see you together.

It’s not a sadness for themselves, but for the both of you.

They don’t say much, but their understanding is palpable. They seem to give you more grace when it comes to doing work around the farm, trying to volunteer and do as much as they can so you two can spend time alone. No matter how much you refuse, they insist, pushing you two out the door with picnic basket and blankets.

Sitting on the porch one evening after a long day, your grandmother comes out to join you. She sits beside you, Logan’s arm is draped around your shoulders, and for a brief second, the three of you just sit in silence, watching the sunset.

“You know,” your grandmother begins, her voice soft and filled with emotion, “I see the way you two look at each other. It reminds me of your grandfather and me when we were young.”

You smile, leaning into Logan’s side as you listen to her. “You two have always been such an inspiration,” you say, meaning every word.

She chuckles, a wistful sound. “It wasn’t always easy, you know. There were times when we had to be apart, times when I wasn’t sure if we’d make it through. But we did. And looking at you two now… I know you’ll find a way.”

Logan squeezes your shoulder gently.. “We’ll figure it out,” he says, echoing the promise he made when you first told him about the job.

Your grandmother nods, reaching out to pat your knee. “I believe you will. But just know… it’s okay to be sad, to be scared. That’s part of loving someone.”

The words resonate with you, and you feel tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “Thank you,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion.

She smiles, a small, sad smile that holds a lifetime of wisdom. “You’ll be alright, my dear. Both of you.”

The days continue to slip by, and as the final weeks approach, your chest constantly feels tight. You try to make yourself feel better by lying in each other’s arms at night, whispering about the future, about the dreams you have, and the plans you’ll make when you’re together again. But still, it’s sad.

—

Your last day creeps up on you like a shadow at dusk—inevitable, inescapable, and suddenly there, looming over everything. You wake up with a rock on your heart, the realization that this is it—your final day on the farm, your last full day with Logan before everything changes.

He is still asleep beside you, holding you close, his face peaceful in the early morning quiet. For a moment, you just watch him, memorizing the lines of his face, the way his chest rises and falls with each breath, the way his hair falls across his forehead. You want to remember everything, to carry this image of him with you when you leave.

With a soft sigh, you carefully slip out of his embrace, trying not to wake him. You pad quietly to the window, staring out at the familiar landscape that has become so dear to you. The fields, the barn, the trees swaying gently in the breeze—it’s all so beautiful, so full of memories.

You don’t realize you’re crying until you feel the wetness on your cheeks, and you quickly wipe the tears away, not wanting to start the day with sadness. But as you turn back to the bed, you see that Logan is awake, his eyes open and watching you. He doesn’t say anything, but the look in his eyes says it all—he knows what today means, and he feels it just as deeply as you do.

Wordlessly, you crawl back into bed, curling up against him, and you can feel the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek, grounding you in the moment.

“Morning,” he murmurs.

“Morning,” you whisper back, your voice trembling slightly as you press your face into his chest, trying to hold back the tears that threaten to fall..

You just lie there together, wrapped in each other’s arms, the weight of the day pressing down on you both. Eventually, Logan pulls back slightly, his hand cupping your face as he looks into your eyes. “Let’s go to the pond,” he says delicately. “Just you and me.”

You nod, unable to find the words to respond. The pond has always been your special place, a sanctuary where you’ve shared so many intimate moments, where it feels like it all began, and so it’s only right that would spend your last day there, away from everything else, just the two of you.

You decide to walk to the pond. Logan’s hand is warm and solid in yours, and you hold on to it tightly, physically unable to tear yourself from his touch. And when you reach it, a fresh wave of emotion crashes over you.

You and Logan stand at the water’s edge, just staring out into the pond. Then, you turn to him, your eyes filled with tears, and without hesitation, he pulls you into his arms, holding you close.

The kiss that follows is desperate, full of the need to feel connected, to hold on to each other for as long as you can. It’s not like the slow, sensual lovemaking of the past weeks—this is something desperate. Stumbling back toward the soft grass by the water’s edge, Logan gently lays you down, his hands trembling slightly as he undresses you, tears stinging behind his eyelids. As he moves over you, his body pressing against yours, there’s only this moment.

With his skin against yours, his breath on your neck, your bodies move together. Tears spill from your eyes as you hold him tight, your hands unable to stay still, running over every part of him you can touch, needing to feel him, to anchor yourself. His lips find yours again, and the kiss is deep, full of all the love, all the emotion that neither of you can put into words.

It’s a kiss that says goodbye, that says I love you, that says I’ll wait for you.

After reaching the peak of pleasure, you cling to each other, the tears flowing freely now, a mix of sorrow and love and everything in between.

Logan holds you close, his forehead pressed against yours, his breath ragged, his eyes wet with tears. “I love you,” he whispers, his voice cracking with emotion. “I’ll always love you.”

“I love you too,” you choke out. “More than anything.”

—

Driving away from the farm was probably the hardest thing you've ever had to do in your entire life. Harder than moving away for university, harder than securing your first full-time job, harder than living alone in a city where you knew no one. This was different—this was leaving behind a piece of your heart, a part of your soul that you knew would never be whole until you returned.

Your hands grip the steering wheel tightly, your knuckles white as you try to focus on the road ahead, but it’s impossible to shake the image that’s burned into your mind—the image of Logan and your grandparents standing on the porch as you drove away. The sight of them, standing there side by side, watching you leave, is something that will haunt you for a long time.

Logan, his stoic expression barely masking the pain in his eyes, his hands clenched at his sides as if holding himself back from running after you. Your grandmother, her face a mixture of sadness and pride, eyes glistening with unshed tears. And your grandfather, standing tall and strong, but with a heaviness in his gaze that spoke of understanding, of experience, of knowing just how hard this had to be.

The tears that had been threatening to fall finally break free, streaming down your face as you drive, blurring your vision and making it hard to see the road ahead. You swipe at them angrily, frustrated with yourself for breaking down like this, but it’s no use. The emotions are too strong, too overwhelming, and soon you’re bawling your eyes out, the sound of your own crying filling the car.

You can barely catch your breath, each sob wracking your body with a force that leaves you feeling drained, exhausted, and utterly broken.

—

The time apart is worse than you ever imagined it would be. In the beginning, you and Logan make every effort to stay in touch. The calls and texts are your lifeline, little threads that keep you connected to the farm, to him, to the life you left behind.

At first, you talk every day. his voice a comfort, a reminder that you’re not alone, that he’s still there, waiting for you. He tells you about his days, about how he still rides the horses every morning, just like he used to when you were there.

But as time goes on, the time between each call grows. Your demanding work schedule, and the unreliable service in the countryside, make it harder and harder to find moments when you’re both free to talk. The texts, once long and filled with details about your lives, become shorter, more practical. You try to stay connected, but the distance feels like a growing chasm between you, one that neither of you can quite figure out how to bridge.

Years pass by in a blur. You have no time to spend at the farm, with it being too far away for just a weekend trip, and other commitments seem to always get in the way.

Then, one day, the call comes—the call you’ve dreaded but somehow always knew would happen. It’s your grandmother, her voice trembling as she tells you that your grandfather has passed away.

You take leave from work immediately, making arrangements to drive back to the farm and spend a night. The funeral is simple, attended by a few close friends and neighbours, but the absence of your grandfather is felt deeply by everyone.

And he’s there too—Logan. He’s standing off to the side, his broad shoulders slightly hunched, his face etched with grief. When your eyes meet, it’s as if no time has passed at all. You walk over to him, and without a word, he pulls you into his arms, holding you tightly as if afraid to let go.

The few years apart, the pain of the distance, all of it melts away in that embrace. You bury your face in his chest, breathing in the familiar scent of him that you’ve missed so much, and the tears you thought you had run out of begin to fall.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper, everything hitting you at once—the loss of your grandfather, the years you’ve spent apart, the life you could have had together.

He hugs you tighter, his hand gently stroking your hair. “I miss you,” he murmurs thickly. “Every damn day, I miss you.”

You spend the rest of the day together, holding each other, talking, catching up, and remembering your grandfather. Logan tells you about the farm, about how he’s kept things going, but you can hear the weariness in his voice, the toll that time and loneliness have taken on him. It’s clear that the farm hasn’t been the same without you, just as your life hasn’t been the same without him.

Later that evening, after the guests have left and the house has grown quiet, your grandmother pulls you aside. Her eyes are tired, full of sorrow, but there’s a calm acceptance in her expression. “I’ve made a decision,” she says softly, her voice steady. “I’m going to sell the farm.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, but before you can protest, she continues. “Not to just anyone,” she adds quickly. “To Logan. He’s been more than just a farmhand, you know that. This place is as much his as it was ours. But… I need to move into permanent care. I can’t manage on my own anymore.”

You nod, understanding but feeling a deep sadness all the same. The farm has been a part of your life for so long, and the thought of it changing hands, even to Logan, feels like another loss. But there’s also a sense of relief, knowing that it will be in good hands, that it will stay in the family, in a way.

That night, you’re tangled in Logan’s arms. Leaving him the next morning is just as hard the second time as it was the first.

—

Five years since that fateful summer have passed, and in that time, your life changes in ways you never expected. You’ve built a successful career, made some amazing friends, travelled the world, but the hustle and bustle of city life has taken its toll. The stress, the strain, the dissatisfaction—it begins to weigh on you more and more.

So, you make a decision.

You quit your job, find something remote, something that allows you to work from anywhere, as long as you can drive into the city every few weeks to drop off documents. It’s a drastic change, but it’s one you need. You realize that the life you want, the life you’ve been yearning for, isn’t in the city.

It’s back at the farm.

As you step out of your car, you see him. He’s by the paddock, feeding the horses apples, just like he used to. His back is to you at first, but then he turns, and his eyes meet yours, and time stops.

There’s a lifetime of emotions in that look—love, longing, hope. Most of all, there’s recognition, as if both of you know that this is it, that this is the moment you’ve been waiting for all these years.

And when you’re finally standing in front of him again, he reaches out, his hand trembling slightly as he cups your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek the same way it did all those years ago.

----

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gyudons · 1 year ago

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despicable

updates as of 22 oct

Travis Dermott knew that he would draw attention with his actions in the Coyotes’ home opener against the Anaheim Ducks at Mullett Arena on Saturday. The Arizona defenseman just hoped that the spotlight might shine on the issue that he was addressing, not on him.

“You don’t really want to go against rules that are put in place by your employer, but there’s some people who took some positive things from it,” Dermott said. “That’s kind of what I’m looking to impact.

“You want to have everyone feel included and that’s something that I have felt passionate about for a long time in my career. It’s not like I just just jumped on this train. It’s something that I’ve felt has been lacking in the hockey community for a while. I feel like we need supporters of a movement like this; to have everyone feel included and really to beat home the idea that hockey is for everyone.”

“I won’t lie,” said Dermott, who is playing on a one-year, two-way contract. “From the outside, it’s easy to see that I’m putting my career on the line for something. I definitely went through some emotional ups and downs that night, not regretting anything by any means, but I’d love to have maybe done a couple of steps a little different by making sure that everyone was aware of what was going on before I did it.

“I don’t want to put my teammates or my coaches or my GMs or the equipment managers in any kind of bad light when it’s their job to kind of look out for something like this happening. It was definitely something that I did just by myself and was prepared to kind of deal with whatever repercussions the league decides to push towards that. I’m not going to back off and say that this battle is won, but we’re going to find better ways to do it.”

As Dermott noted, LGBTQ+ inclusion is an issue that he has supported for a long time. Without getting into specifics, Dermott said the issue is personal for him because it impacts people close to him.

“I’d be lying if I said I haven’t shed tears about this on multiple occasions,” he said. “So yeah, it’s something I’m definitely very passionate about.

“I’ve met a lot of people that from the outside, it looks like they have everything going right in their life and they have a smile on their face every time they talk to you. But sometimes when we get closer to people and get comfortable enough for them to open up to you, you can see that there’s some pretty dark stuff happening to some good people. It doesn’t take too many times encountering something like that for it to really change someone.

“I’ve been blessed to have some of those opportunities put in front of me to really change my view of what being a good person means; what being a good father and a good example and role model means going forward. You really see how people are hurting and it’s because of a system that maybe no one’s intentionally trying to be malicious about, but until you’ve really had that first-person experience seeing people hurting from it right in front of you, it’s tough to kind of take steps.”

It would be a surprise if the league handed down any sort of punishment. The optics alone would add to the public relations damage that the original ban created. Even so, Dermott reiterated his desire to bring the entire franchise into the fold before he takes similar actions in the future, but he also made it clear that he will not be silenced on the topic.

“It’s not like I’m shutting up and going away,” he said. “I know more questions are going to be coming. We’re just going to be as prepared as we can be to just spread love. That’s the thing. It’s gay pride that we’re talking about, but it could be men’s health. It could be any war. It’s just wanting world peace. Everyone’s got to love each other a little bit more.

“Like my parents said growing up, ‘How awesome would it be to be the guy that people look up to?’ That’s what really hit home when I was a kid, especially from my mom. You want to grow up and be that guy. You want to be the guy that’s having the impact on kids like NHL players had on you. If they had been racist or bigoted, that’s going to have an effect on you.

“With how many eyes are on us, especially with the young kids coming up in the new generation, you want to put as much positive love into their brain as you can. You want them to see that it’s not just being taught or coming from maybe their parents at home. They need to see it in the public eye for it to really make an effect.”

#nhl #pride #lgbt #gay #queer #hockey

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xhyjin · 3 months ago

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husband nanami! who cuts your steak for you on dates because he knows you have a hard time doing it.

husband nanami! who lives and breathes you. he wakes up for work already missing you, laying in bed and watching you sleep as he gently plays with your hair.

husband nanami! who finds himself staring at photos of you randomly throughout the day when he’s not with you, not even realizing he has the biggest smile plastered on his face until someone (gojo) points it out. he gets so flustered, quickly shutting off his phone to keep them from seeing your photos—because they’re his and his only.

husband nanami! who holds your purse, your drink, your jacket, even your earrings—anything and everything—while you’re out, because he adores being part of anything that has to do with you.

husband nanami! who never raises his voice at you (bare minimum, of course) but will scream lyrics with you at the top of his lungs, even if it’s completely out of his comfort zone, just to see you smile.

husband nanami! who plans on renewing your vows “just because,” when in reality, he simply can’t get enough of how breathtaking you look in white.

husband nanami! who has your contact saved as “mrs. nanami” with the silliest photo of you—one he knows will definitely get him in trouble if you ever see it, but he keeps it because it makes him smile every time.

husband nanami! who somehow brings you into every conversation, no matter how random. his coworkers could be discussing the weather, and he’ll find a way to connect it to you, much to their annoyance, because it seems like your name is the only word in his vocabulary.

husband nanami! who sometimes writes your initials next to his on his work files while daydreaming about you, like a love-struck teenager doodling on their homework. sometimes, he forgets to erase them, leaving the pages covered in your initials, much to the confusion of his coworkers reviewing the files.

husband nanami! who takes your opinions on his work seriously, so when you tell him not to go to shibuya because you have a gut feeling, he listens and is forever grateful he did. because we all know why. (😔)

husband nanami! who quits being a sorcerer and a businessman just to enjoy his life with you, with no other responsibilities but you, you, you, you, and only you.

husband nanami! who always tells you to bring your jacket whenever you two go out, but secretly hopes you forget, because he loves when you get cold and he gets to give you his. he knows it’s wrong to make you feel cold on purpose, but he can’t help how adorable you look all warm and snug in his jacket, while he shivers with a proud smile, his arm around your waist.

husband nanami! who purposely leans his head back while kissing so you have to pull him by his tie to bring him back down to your level, just because he loves how it feels when you take charge.

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totalswag · 4 months ago

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hii, I’m not sure if you take request still but if so is there a possible way you can do a drew x singer!reader one shot take on how Sabrina “arrests” her fans before performing Juno for being too hot but the reader does it to Drew during her shows please 🫶🏼

arrested for being too hot — DREW STARKEY

authors note THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING THIS!! my request box is still open so feel free to send me any ideas regarding singer!reader or regular fic ideas you’d like me to write. this was so much writing too. thank for all the love on my last fic lovies <3

taglist ⤕ if you would like to be notified every time i post you will type in your username then be all set.

summary "arresting" drew, your boyfriend, during your show before performing your song from your new album.

warning(s) none!

You are on tour for your new album in-front of thousands of fans almost every night. You worked hard on this album and it turned out wonderfully. If it weren’t for the amazing fans of yours, you don’t know where you’d be in your career— they are the reason you are doing this.

Half way into the show— going amazing. The crowd tonight isn't disappointing you. Everything you've hoped for on this tour. You've performed eighteen songs and about to go onto your nineteenth. Played musical spin the bottle not long ago which was really fun.

Before Juno, you begin with a small "skit" where you call someone out in the crowd, arresting them for being too hot. This became a thing after your first show of the tour and doing it ever since. Plus, fans absolutely love it. Interacting with your fans has always been something you did and create those bonds.

Drew, your boyfriend, is attending the show with Madelyn Cline, a mutual friend and cast-mate of Drew's. You told him earlier today you wanted to arrest him in the middle of the show to get the audience excited and it would be fun.

Drew was all for it, and he didn't want you to tell him what you were going to say—he prefers surprises.

Your pink, glittering, dazzling clothing was sparkling in the lights. You pressed your free hand to your brow as though you were looking around for a call. With security, you could see Drew and Madelyn making their way to the front.

You begin by adjusting your earpiece while moving around the stage in your long skirt. "You guys know that moment when you are in a room filled with such beautiful looking people that you start to feel overwhelmed?" When fans applaud, you smile.

"Oh, girls, I think I just seen my future husband in the front row! Oh my god, girls, come here, come here," you say anxiously into the microphone, beckoning them over and waving your free hand.

You turn to face Drew as the girls approach you, asking, "Do you see that gorgeous looking man over in the front row with his arms crossed in the tan shirt?" You speak into the microphone aloud, pointing to Drew in the crowd.

Your girls joyfully waved at Drew while placing their hands on your shoulder. As Drew blushes on the big screen, the crowd reflexively turns up the volume in the arena.

"What's your name handsome?" With your head cocked slightly to the right toward your shoulder, you inquire in jest.

"Drew!" You can hear him when he places his hands on the side of his lips. He gives you a childlike smile and a flushed face.

You say, "I'm sorry I couldn't get that?" as though you couldn't hear him. Leaning forward more, you place your free hand behind your ear.

He shakes his head and utters "Drew!" a little louder.

"Oh my Drew, I must say that you must be a magnet because you drew me in" brings a smile to your face. Your tone indicated that you were trying quite hard not to laugh, yet you kept your calm brilliantly.

Fans had their phones out, capturing the entire interaction. Nobody would have expected Drew to be the person arrested at your gigs since the tour began.

"Drew, you are under arrest for being too hot," you say aloud, smiling and pointing at him— fanning yourself, moving your hips side to side as the sound of sirens going off with blue and red lights behind.

You put your left elbow against your girls shoulder, "guys do you ever just see someone so good looking that you just don't know what to do and all your clothes fall off in that moment" your long skirt slips off smoothy.

"Like your brain just like malfunctions and like I just wanna handcuffed to you now like," one of your girls puts the pink fluffy handcuffs into your hand, you kneel down, "do you know what I mean? Will you take these from me?"

Drew is overwhelmed in this very moment— it's very obvious how much you are affecting him. Drew gives you a gimme me gesture with his fingers, ready to catch the hand cuffs.

He takes them in his hands, looks down, and feels the smooth texture of the fuzzy. He tilts his head to the side before slowly glancing up at you with a smirk—keep in mind that he's still on the big screen.

"We're gonna sing this one to you, Drew."

Juno's song intro starts playing. You wave goodbye to Drew and Madelyn as you return to the center of the stage. You could hear the two begin speaking to fans in the distance.

Drew and Madelyn met you in the dressing room following the show. After giving Madelyn a hug and thanking her for attending the event, you moved to approach Drew and put your arms around his neck while grinning.

"That was insane," Madelyn exclaimed, pulling you into a hug. "What about the full call-out and the handcuffs? Iconic! "You're the talk of the night; everyone is crazy about it."

You giggled as your face heated up. "It seemed right." "You should have seen his face!"

She laughs, "I got the whole thing on video, I'll send it to you later."

"I'm going to give you two some alone time, but you did such an amazing job tonight and looked so hot doing it," Madelyn adds, taking your hands in her and wiggling her brows.

"Thank you, babe. I love you always," you say, hugging her before she leaves you and Drew alone.

When you close the door, Drew comes behind you, placing his arms around your waist and kissing you on the cheek, making you laugh with the tenderness of his lips.

"I'm so proud of you baby, you did such an amazing job on stage and looked unbelievable in your outfits made me feel like the luckiest guy in the entire world." He expresses emotionally, which uplifts you.

"Coming from you, it warms my heart baby. Forever grateful to have you in my life," you smile softly, leaning against his chest, feeling that sense of warmth you always feel whenever you are with him.

"And I'm forever grateful for you" he quietly responds, kissing the top of your head.

"So what are we gonna do with those pink fuzzy handcuffs?"

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dumbbitchgalore · 5 months ago

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Soon-to-be Single!Price sending this to his soon-to-be cheater wife to show her how good the new babysitter is taking care of him (🌽 link)

John’s intentions with bringing you into the house as a babysitter were genuinely pure. He wanted you to help fill the void inside his twin daughters’ hearts ripped open by their absent, whoring mother.

One night he finds himself scrolling through the Au Pair website looking for the suitable candidate and he finds you. A foreigner, good with kids, previously working as a tutor and now currently on a gap year from studying at university to give a helping hand mouth and pussy to families like his. And that is how he brought you into his home.

John’s wife seemingly did not care, as long as her kids didn’t bother her, she couldn’t care about who’s taking care of them.

Day by day, John becomes enamoured by you. The way you took care of his kids was pulling at his heart strings, daring him to get closer to you, to get to know you better and possibly become friends so that he has someone to take to. That is his intention, right?

He learns your favourite colour, food, the flowers you like, the designer items on your wishlist hoping to be rich enough to buy them. He memorises your features. Your perfect lips, manicured hands, your prim and proper appearance in front of him is almost like a facade to protect yourself.

And it is, you try to protect yourself from John, to keep a distance and always be polite with an air of professionalism. You can’t let him know that your head over heels to hear his gravelling voice, to stare at his cerulean eyes or even just to get close enough to smell his cologne. You definitely didn’t want him to think of you as a strange au pair that he regretted choosing.

Often you and John would find yourselves alone in the home after tending to the girls and putting them to bed and going to the kitchen to enjoy a snack before bed. Tonight, you find John leaning against the kitchen counter sipping on a glass of whiskey as you go to open the fridge. You know, politely acknowledging his presence.

“Care to share a glass with me?” John’s smooth voice engulfs your presence.

You turn back looking at him as you give him a soft smile, “Thank you for the offer Mr Price, but-”

Before you finish, he puts his hand up signalling you to stop talking and sighs before taking another sip of his drink.

“Turning down a man going through a divorce?”

Your eyes widen at his question, “You and Mrs Price are-”

“That slut doesn’t deserve to be called by my last name.” He says curtly.

You nod, making your way next to him and pouring yourself a drink and taking a sip, the liquid deliciously burning down your throat.

“I’d appreciate you not telling the girls, I don’t want them worrying.”

“Of course, sir-”

“John. Just John is fine.”

“Alright, John.” You say and John swears that you were a siren in disguise at that moment. Your sweet voice calling his name like a holy man being lulled in by a succubus.

A few too many drinks later, you find yourself in such a predicament. On the floor, watching yourself in the mirror as you sloppily makeout with John’s cock as he records you. Suckling his head, you drool onto the floor, laving it as your tongue prods at his slit, guttural moans spewing out of his mouth encouraging your ministrations.

You let go of his tip with a ‘pop’ noise, making your way down his length. Long wet drags on your tongue along John’s veins cause him to shiver in delight, begging his body not to cum too early on.

His voice cuts through the air of whimpers and wet sucks as John addresses his wife in the video.

“You could never suck my cock like this and you’ve given yourself wrinkles from the amount of dumbfucks you blew after work.”

John forcefully takes your mouth off his cock, halting the momentum of pleasure inside of him. He grabs your chin harshly, making you face the camera. Your lips red and bitten from his kisses, drool staining your chin as you look at the camera doe-eyed and needy.

“This sweet little thing takes care of the girls better than you do. She’ll be a better wife than you, ya slag.”

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shy2-29 · 2 months ago

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Crossroads Romance | p.hs 🩰

pairing: park sunghoon x reader 𐙚🧸ྀི

wc: 19.7k

synopsis: after disappearing for two years, Sunghoon finally comes back as stunning as ever. Rumour has it he has a new girlfriend?

warning: not proof read! p in v, oral f receive, kissing, skin-ship, a bit of reader x heeseung, sexting, masturbating, makeup s.x, angst, smut, degrading, praising, sunghoon being just too perfect

mdni.

During the first two years of university, you had an amazing time. You became very popular, never missed a class, and received daily confessions from boys. Safe to say you were the making campus’ “it” girl.

While your friends were busy dating and having relationships, you were focused on your studies. You didn’t have time for romantic entanglements when you were determined to graduate at the top of your class.

After your boyfriend disappeared without a trace, you stopped believing in love. Even so, you still hold onto a faint hope that someday he will come back for you. In your dreams, you always imagine the day he returns.

Your friends encouraged you to move on and meet someone new, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Every time you saw a happy couple on campus, your thoughts would drift back to him.

Although you have gone on a few dates with attractive men, none have made an impression on you as deeply as Sunghoon once did.

Your heart longed for the connection you had shared with Sunghoon, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that nobody else could fill the void he left behind.

While you were absorbed in your thoughts, a commotion erupted nearby. A group of students had formed a circle around something, blocking your view. Curiosity gnawed at you, and you inched closer to see what was happening.

As you weaved through the curious onlookers, you caught a glimpse of something that took your breath away. Standing in the center of the crowd was none other than Sunghoon.

"I can't believe he's back," one student whispered, their eyes wide with shock.

"Yeah, he had a glow up definitely," another chimed in, their voice tinged with awe.

The murmurs around you grew louder as people discussed his unexpected return. Some whispered about how he had vanished without a trace, while others commented on how good he looked. One thing was unanimous: everyone seemed to be talking about him.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you watched him from afar. He looked even more captivating than you remembered, and the memories of your past relationship flooded back at full force.

You frantically pushed through the crowd, approaching Sunghoon, whose towering frame loomed over you. To your relief, he appeared surprised to see you.

His eyes widened in surprise when he caught sight of you. A range of emotions flickered across his face, including realization and a hint of guilt. For a brief moment, he hesitated, unsure of how to react.

“y/n?” he finally spoke, his voice laced with a mix of surprise and uncertainty. The sound of his deep, familiar voice stirred up a whirlwind of memories inside of you. It was as if no time had passed at all.

You gazed at him, your mind struggling to process whether he truly stood before you or if it was merely a dream. After a moment, you stuttered a response, "Y-yeah, that's me." Despite the changes over the past two years, you also experienced a significant transformation, enhancing your appearance.

His eyes scanned over you as if seeing you for the first time. His gaze lingered for a moment before his stoic expression softened into a faint smile. He didn’t say anything else, but his eyes seemed to study every detail of your new appearance.

As the moments passed, the murmurs and whispers surrounding you grew louder. The students who had formed the tight circle around Sunghoon were chattering amongst themselves, their voices filling the air. “I can’t believe he’s back,” one student whispered to their friend, their tone tinged with awe.

“What’s y/n doing with him,” another chimed in, their voice tinged with admiration.

Students around you exchanged looks. “I swear, they were practically inseparable back then. Do you think they’re still together?” one student whispered a little louder than intended, causing your ears to perk up.

You impulsively raised your hand, poking his shoulder without thinking. Realizing your action, you swiftly drew your hand back, blushing slightly in embarrassment. “S-sorry..” you muttered, looking away from him. You knew that this time, you weren’t dreaming.

Your sudden poke caused him to flinch, his gaze shifting to you. A brief flash of confusion flickered in his eyes before he replied, “No, it’s fine.” He seemed just as flustered as you were, his usually composed demeanor slipping for a moment.

Among the sea of murmurs and speculation, a bold voice rose above the rest. "Hey, are they still together?" a boy called out from the crowd, his comment drawing everyone's attention.

Sunghoon's eyes darted towards the source of the voice, a flicker of annoyance evident in his gaze. He remained silent, clearly not appreciative of the question being asked in front of others. He was usually more of the shy type, so he waited for you to talk.

You stammered slightly, replying, "I-I don’t... no, I don’t think so." Your words were softly spoken, your voice betraying a hint of uncertainty mixed with a touch of hesitation.

Your response seemed to catch him off guard, a slight furrow appearing on his brow. His expression mirrored the same uncertainty you were trying to convey. The onlookers around them seemed to shift their gazes between the two of you, anticipation hanging in the air.

It was clear that everyone around you was eagerly awaiting some sort of confirmation, hoping to get clarity on the current status of your relationship. Despite the pressure of the moment, neither of you spoke, the silence stretching out in the air.

As the silence dragged on, the murmurs in the crowd began to die down. One by one, the onlookers slowly dispersed, realizing there was no satisfying answer to their questions. The tension in the air eased ever so slightly as the curious eyes around you moved on to other matters.

The crowd gradually thinned out, leaving you and Sunghoon standing there, facing each other. The initial shock had worn off, replaced by a palpable awkwardness that hung heavy between you.

"So...," you began, your voice quivering with disbelief, still grappling with the reality of the situation. "Where have you been...?" Your voice shook as you voiced the question that had been burning in your mind since his disappearance.

A wave of guilt washed over his face, his eyes averting your gaze. He looked away as he answered, a tinge of shame in his voice, "I was... I was away, y/n."

His response was short, almost dismissive. It was clear that he didn't want to delve deeper into the subject.

Your tone shifted from disbelief to frustration, and you scoffed. "Well it’s pretty obvious you went away," you retorted, the words slipping out more forcefully than intended. "Why and where on earth did you vanish, Sunghoon? I was genuinely worried sick…" Your irritation and concern were evident as you spoke, emphasizing the gravity of his absence and the impact it had on you.

Sunghoon clenched his jaw, clearly uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was taking. His mind worked furiously, searching for a way to navigate this situation without revealing too much.

"I just... needed some space," he muttered under his breath, attempting to dismiss your concern with a half-answer.

Frustration bubbled up inside you, and you retorted sternly, "Some space? That's all you have to say after disappearing without a word for two year? You just needed space? You didn’t even bother to text me!”

The words stung as they left your mouth. You hadn't meant to be so blunt, but your pent-up frustration and lingering hurt had overwhelmed you.

He stared at you with a mixture of guilt and resignation, seemingly aware of the pain he had caused you.

Just as your heated exchange reached its peak, the sound of the bell broke through the atmosphere like a sharp alarm, signaling the end of break time. The shrill noise cut through the tension, reminding everyone of their impending classes.

Students around you began to scatter, hastening to their classes. They cast final lingering glances at you and Sunghoon before disappearing into various directions. The once lively spot emptied, leaving only the two of you behind.

As the last of the students hurried away, Sunghoon took advantage of the distraction. "I have class," he mumbled quickly, gesturing vaguely behind him. He was eager to escape the tense situation, and seizing the opportunity afforded by the bell ringing, he began to back away from you.

"Wait, Sunghoon—" you started, reaching out to grab his arm, but his pace had already quickened, and your fingers barely grazed his sleeve before he was out of reach.

—

You waited near the school gate, your eyes continuously scanning the crowded campus for any sign of him. Frustration gnawed at you as the clock ticked away, knowing that he had actively avoided you all day.

You released a weary sigh as you approached the table occupied by your popular “friends” and collapsed onto the seat beside Kazuha. She glanced at you and remarked with a teasing tone, "You look like you just crawled back from hell." Looking up, you saw her taking a bite out of her granola bar. "What's the matter?"

You groaned in response, feeling the exhaustion seeping into your bones. "Sunghoon’s back after disappearing on everyone for two years," you muttered, slumping in your seat. It had been a long day filled with frustration and disappointment, and the last thing you wanted to deal with was Kazuha's playful teasing.

Another girl, Chaewon, joined in the conversation and added, "I heard he's like, super hot now." Her comment carried a hint of curiosity and intrigue, implying that Sunghoon's appearance had undergone changes that had caught their attention.

The news of Sunghoon’s appearance change didn’t surprise you. After all, two years had passed since he vanished, and it made sense that he would have grown and matured during that time. Nevertheless, a pang of jealousy flared within you as your friends continued discussing his newfound attractiveness.

Kazuha's words hung in the air as she asked, "Wait, so you two aren't together anymore, right?" You shook your head in confirmation, signaling the end of your relationship with Sunghoon. "Okay, good because me and Kazuha were walking around the field earlier in the day, and it low-key seemed like he was making out with someone. It was like, very intense," Chaewon stated, her words laced with both concern and scandalized fascination.

Their revelation hit you like a wave of disappointment and confusion. It stung to hear that Sunghoon was involved with someone else so soon after his return.

The image of him making out with another girl haunted your mind, stirring up a mix of jealousy and sadness within you.

"He… He was making out with someone…?" you repeated, the words escaping your lips in a hushed whisper.

Both girls nodded their heads delicately, signaling their agreement and empathy. There was a hint of concern in Kazuha's voice as she remarked, "Kinda feel bad for you though. We know you loved him a lot." Their words carried a tinge of compassion, acknowledging your deep feelings for him.

Their understanding words seemed to offer little solace in the face of this new information. Even so, you appreciated their concern.

A heavy sigh escaped your lips as you tried to push past the emotional pain. "It’s fine," you murmured, attempting to hide the hurt behind a brave facade. "It’s been two years since we broke up. I’ve moved on."

Chaewon, however, expressed her disbelief with a scoff. She shook her head at the notion of you moving on and declared, "You? Moved on? Impossible!"

Her dismissive tone struck a nerve, making you bristle with annoyance. It was true that moving on was not something you had accomplished easily, but you didn’t appreciate your friend calling it impossible.

"I swear, you might as well still be together," she insisted, her words like a sharp poke to your sensitive nerve. "You don't just ‘move on’ from someone you fell in love with so quickly. It's been two years, but you still can't bring yourself to date anyone new."

A mixture of curiosity and jealousy coursed through your veins. Despite the pang of heartache, you couldn’t help but feel compelled to ask.

You turned to your friends and inquired, with a touch of hesitation, "Did that girl he was making out with... was she, you know, pretty?"

“Uh, I mean I guess she is,” Chaewon said, her tone full of sass. “But you’re definitely prettier.”

Kazuha hummed and nods her head in agreement. “And if he lost feelings for you, his loss.”

Their words were meant to be comforting, but they only deepened your sense of inadequacy. It felt like a painful reminder that despite how much you still cared for him, he had chosen someone else.

Their encouragement didn’t have the desired effect. Instead, it left you feeling more wounded and vulnerable.

A heavy sigh escaped your lips, and you sank further into your seat.

"Yeah, it’s his loss," you echoed, mustering a weak smile in response to their attempt to uplift you. But deep inside, the knowledge that he had moved on with another girl still stung like a fresh wound.

“Just guys being guys you know,” Chaewon scoffed, probably thinking back of an old ex of hers.

You knew all too well the nature of guys and their tendencies. Despite your past relationship with Sunghoon, the idea of him quickly moving on with someone else stung.

"Yeah, guys being guys," you murmured, trying to keep the bitterness out of your tone.

Days passed, and you tried to keep yourself occupied with classes, studying, and hanging out with your friends. However, no amount of distractions could erase the lingering thoughts of Sunghoon and the mysterious girl he had been making out with. The mystery girl was now always on your mind, and the thought of her ignited a fire of jealousy deep within you.

The days dragged on, each passing moment only intensifying your curiosity and resentment. You found yourself constantly picturing the girl in your mind, wondering what she looked like, what her laughter sounded like, and what qualities had drawn him towards her.

As the days progressed, your interactions with Sunghoon remained awkward and fleeting. Despite being in the same popular crowd, your paths seldom crossed. However, whenever your eyes did meet across the room or hallway, the tension in the air was tangible.

Despite your best efforts, it felt impossible to escape him. You found yourself constantly surrounded by reminders of him. In conversations with your friends, in whispers in the hallways, and even in the occasional glimpse of him in passing, it felt like he was always there, always invading your thoughts.

One day, Kazuha and Chaewon approached you as you organized your belongings in your locker. With a curious tone, Chaewon inquired, "You coming to the winter dance?" Her question invited your participation in the upcoming event.

You hesitated for a moment, your mind instantly going to the thought of Sunghoon being there. Despite your desire to avoid him, you couldn't deny that you were usually the center of attention at such events because of your popularity.

"I don't know," you replied, still contemplating whether to attend or not.

Kazuha continued in a pleading tone, "Come onnnnn," emphasizing her desire for your presence. She added, "I bet that mysterious girl Sunghoon made out with will be there. Or you can confront him right there and then!" Her words implied intrigue and the potential for confrontation or resolution at the upcoming dance.

The idea of confronting him and finding out more about his mysterious girl was tempting. Your curiosity continued to gnaw at you.

"I guess so..." you finally agreed, though your mind was still swirling with unresolved emotions and questions.

Their faces both lit up, indicating their satisfaction with your decision. Kazuha gave you a reassuring pat on the back, "Atta girl." Chaewon smirked, her eyes gleaming with anticipation for the drama that might unfold.

Kazuha raised a brow and inquired, "You have someone to go with though, right?" Her question confirmed your companion for the dance, expressing curiosity about your plans and the company you intended to keep.

The mention of a partner made you realize that you hadn’t considering bringing a date with you. Your mind began racing, contemplating who you could potentially bring.

"Uh, no... not yet," you admitted, somewhat embarrassed by your lack of plans in that regard.

Kazuha hummed at your answer at she looked like she was deep in her thoughts. “Okay well if Sunghoon potentially has a new girlfriend, you’re going to need a ‘boyfriend’ as well to make it equal to seek like you’re not still into him..”

A slight blush tinged your cheeks as you considered the idea of finding a “boyfriend” to even the playing field. The thought of pretending to be in a relationship with someone just to compete with Sunghoon was a bit embarrassing.

"I don’t know, it feels a bit… not authentic, you know?" you retorted, though there was a hint of curiosity in your tone.

“Okay..” Kazuha reponded. “Well you don’t need to *have* a boyfriend, you just need to make it seem like you do.. maybe like a pretend?”

Your eyebrows furrowed in thought, considering Kazuha’s suggestion. The idea of pretending to have a boyfriend for appearance sake was both intriguing and somewhat amusing.

"How exactly would that work?" you asked, a touch of skepticism in your voice.

“It’s simple. Just find a good looking guy to be your fake boyfriend and pretend you’re in love in front of Sunghoon.” Kazuha replied, her words tinged with confidence and a hint of mischief.

A mix of curiosity and hesitation brewed within you. The idea of having a fake relationship solely to play mind games with Sunghoon felt a bit manipulative.

"That feels kinda dishonest, don’t you think?" you remarked, wrestling with your conflicting emotions.

Chaewon couldn't hide her disbelief and frustration. With a dramatic roll of her eyes, she expressed disapproval at your apparent naïveté. "Seriously, you think it's okay that Sunghoon vanished without a trace for two years and now returns with a girlfriend? Wake up and face reality, y/n!" Her words were firm and tinged with disappointment.

Chaewon's sharp words pierced through your hesitation, awakening a spark of anger and defiance within you. It was difficult to deny the injustice of the situation, but your heart still yearned for a genuine connection.

"You don’t understand-" you began to protest, frustration seeping into your voice.

Chaewon grew more frustrated with your reluctance and added, "Y/n, you need to stop being so self-absorbed and go along with our plan. Don't you think you at least deserved an explanation from him after he ghosted everyone for two years?" Her sigh conveyed a mix of resignation and annoyance, emphasizing her frustration at your stubbornness.

The weight of her words hit you hard. Guilt and frustration collided within your thoughts—you couldn’t deny that you felt wronged by his disappearance. Chaewon made valid points, making it difficult to dismiss her perspective.

You bit your lip, the realization of the complexity sinking in.

"I guess you’re right... I do deserve an explanation," you conceded.

Chaewon crossed her arms, her expression shifting from annoyance to satisfaction at your eventual agreement. "So you’re in, right?" she asked, her tone tinged with a hint of victory, hoping for your full commitment to the plan.

you remained silent for a moment, wrestling with your lingering doubts. However, the desire for clarity and a sense of payback against Sunghoon overwhelmed your reservations.

Finally, you took a deep breath and nodded, "Okay, I’m in."

You had your sights set on a guy named Heeseung. Though he wasn't extremely popular, you had to admit he was quite attractive. With fair skin, dark hair, and a tall stature, he met all the physical criteria you sought. The only step left was convincing him to play the role of your fake boyfriend for a day at the winter dance.

Your mind raced with thoughts and questions as you mulled over how to approach the proposition to Heeseung. Despite already admitting the plan to Kazuha and Chaewon, doubts still gnawed at you.

Would he even agree to something so absurd? You wondered.

As you navigated the bustling hallway, you caught a glimpse of Heeseung through the crowd. The confidence and determination within you prompted your pursuit. With a subtle yet steady pace, you weaved through the sea of students until you found yourself standing before Heeseung, who had taken a pause to scroll through his phone.

"Heeseung," you called out, your voice projecting a mixture of nervousness and conviction.

Heeseung flinched slightly at the sound of his name, his attention snapping up from his phone. surprise etched across his face as he recognized you.

"Y/n?" His voice held a hint of question, probably wondering what prompted your sudden approach.

You could tell he was getting flustered around you; almost every guy in the university did. You took a brief moment to compose yourself before speaking, trying to mask the subtle tremors in your voice.

"Can I talk to you for a minute?" you asked, hoping he didn't detect the hint of desperation.

His eyes flickered with a mix of curiosity and trepidation, as if he sensed the seriousness of your request.

"Sure, what's up?" he replied, his voice tinged with caution.

You took a deep breath, gathering your thoughts.

"So... I have a big favor to ask," you began, trying to sound casual despite the intensity of your request.

Heeseung raised his brows curiously, his attention fully on you.

"A favor?" he echoed, his tone laced with intrigue.

You swallowed hard, hoping he wouldn't dismiss your request outright.

"Yeah... I'm attending the winter dance, and I need a date..." you trailed off, anticipating how he would respond.

A hint of surprise flashed in his eyes as he registered your unexpected request.

"Oh, uh..." His voice wavered slightly, a subtle hint of uncertainty seeping through, before he composed himself. "Are you asking me?"

Your heart skipped a beat, both nervous and hopeful that he would agree. You nodded hesitantly, hoping he wouldn't reject you on the spot.

"Yes... I was wondering if you could be my date for the dance," you confessed, your voice laced with a mixture of anticipation and vulnerability.

He glanced away for a moment, seemingly mulling over your proposition. The silence felt like an eternity to you, your anxiety mounting with each passing second.

Finally, he met your gaze once more, his expression unreadable.

"Why me?" he finally questioned, his voice tinged with curiosity.

You'd anticipated this question, expecting a reasonable explanation would be necessary.

"Well, there are a few reasons," you began, trying to sound assured.

"First, we kind of know each other," you started, hoping to build a case based on familiarity, "And, uh, you're pretty decent-looking..." Your words spilled out awkwardly, your confidence faltering.

A faint blush colored his cheeks, but whether it was from the unexpected compliment or embarrassment, you couldn't tell.

"Okay, those are fair points... but there has to be more, right?" He raised a brow, skepticism evident in his tone.

As you scrambled for more substantial reasons, you remembered Chaewon's words.

"And, um, I need someone trustworthy to be my date," you added quickly, the lie leaving a bad taste in your mouth.

He raised a brow, clearly sensing the hidden agenda behind your response.

"Trustworthy? Why's that?" he probed further, seeking a more satisfying explanation.

You pleaded with Heeseung, imploring, "Just—just do this for me, please?" You managed to get the necessary words out of your mouth, though they left a bitter taste.

"I genuinely believe you're a handsome guy with a great personality, and I'd really love for you to be my partner at the dance..." The words felt foreign and contrived as they escaped your lips, causing an uncomfortable shiver to run down your spine.

Heeseung observed you with an intense gaze, studying your demeanor. He could sense something deeper at play, but whether he believed your explanation remained uncertain.

"Alright," he finally relented, though his voice held a hint of suspicion. "Fine, I'll be your date for the dance."

A mix of relief and anxiety washed over you as he agreed, though the undertone of doubt lingered in his tone. You forced a smile, attempting to disguise your discomfort.

"Thanks, Heeseung," you replied, managing to sound somewhat grateful despite the knot of guilt in your stomach.

“Wait—“ Heeseung spoke up as you turned to leave. “Are you asking me out solely for the dance, or is there something more to it?" His words hung in the air, seeking clarity about your intentions.

Caught off guard, you paused and turned back to face him, trying to maintain composure.

"Why would you think that?" you responded evasively, hoping he wouldn't delve deeper into your true motive.

Heeseung's face flushed with embarrassment as he hesitantly confessed, "I've liked you for quite some time, y/n." His words stumbled out adorably, revealing his hidden feelings.

Your eyes widened in surprise at his bold declaration. The confession caught you off guard, especially since you had assumed he was aware of your ulterior motives.

"You...like me?" The words left your lips in a mix of confusion and disbelief, wondering if you had heard him correctly.

Heeseung chuckled and responded to your question, "Isn't it obvious? Pretty much every guy here is into you." His tone carried a hint of amusement, as if acknowledging the apparent popularity you held among the male population.

Your cheeks flushed at his remark, realizing the truth in his words. Your popularity among the guys was no secret, but having it acknowledged so matter-of-factly left you slightly embarrassed.

You conceded, reluctantly agreeing, "I suppose it could be more than just a one-time thing..." Despite not truly feeling the same, you forced yourself to say the words, knowing it was an act.

He raised a brow skeptically, seemingly sensing your wavering conviction.

"That didn't sound very convincing," he pointed out, a subtle hint of accusation in his tone.

You insisted, "I promise I'm being honest." Perhaps getting to know Heeseung better could actually help you move on from Sunghoon. After all, he apparently had a new girlfriend now, so it was likely he had moved on as well.

He examined you, his gaze penetrating your facade. The skepticism remained evident in his expression, but he didn't push further, a hint of resignation in his voice.

"If you say so... I'll trust you."

You smiled and confirmed, "Great! So, Friday at 6?”

He nodded, still somewhat uncertain.

"Sure…" he agreed, his voice trailing off, unable to shake off the unease.

—

Over the past few days, you got Heeseung's contact info and occasionally chatted with him. He was funny and kind, reminding you of a less shy version of Sunghoon. Using this connection, you tried to distract yourself from thoughts of Sunghoon, and it seemed to be gradually working.

Time seemed to fly by with the newfound company. Despite Heeseung's playful and sometimes teasing demeanor, getting to know him became a pleasant distraction from your past and a glimmer of hope for the future.

Heeseung, being the playful flirt that he is, often slips in subtle compliments, saying things like, "Wow y/n, so pretty today huh?" He loves to catch you off guard with unexpected winks and playful banter, trying to get a reaction out of you. Whenever he has the chance, he'll poke fun at your cuteness, saying, "You're too adorable when you get flustered, you know that?"

Sunghoon had become somewhat more elusive to you, and the only times you caught a glimpse of him these days were in passing within the bustling university hallways or outside on campus grounds.

With each fleeting sight of him, a mix of emotions coursed through you, stirring an uncomfortable blend of nostalgia and pain, as if your past memories with him came flooding back in sharp clarity.

As the evening of the winter dance finally arrived, a mix of anticipation and unease stirred within you. The crowd buzzed with excitement, creating a vibrant atmosphere. The decorations were grand, the music was upbeat and energetic, and couples swarmed the dance floor, immersed in the festivities.

You held onto Heeseung's arm as you eagerly guided him toward your group of friends. Grinning, you introduced him to Kazuha and Chaewon, your closest companions. "Kazuha, Chaewon, meet Heeseung," you said cheerfully, turning towards him. Noticeably shy at first, Heeseung nodded a timid greeting before offering a soft smile in response.

Your friends observed him, seemingly intrigued by your choice of company.Chaewon's brow arched as she looked him up and down, giving him a once-over.

"So, Heeseung, huh?" she remarked, her tone hinting at curiosity.

Heeseung fidgeted a little under their gazes, somewhat intimidated but trying to maintain a casual demeanor. "Yeah, that's me," he replied, forcing a slight chuckle to lighten the tension.

Kazuha studied him for a moment, a small smirk playing at her lips.

"Nice to meet you," she said, her tone laced with an underlying layer of assessment.

He nodded, returning the greeting with an uneasy smile, still somewhat unsettled by your friend's scrutinizing gazes. You sensed his discomfort and squeezed his arm reassuringly, offering silent support.

You continued conversing with your friends and Heeseung, but you found yourself unable to shake the sensation of someone's gaze upon you. It wasn't unusual for you to receive attention, considering your popularity, yet this time, something felt distinct.

Subtly glancing around the room, your eyes caught sight of Sunghoon, staring at you with an expressionless face, calmly sipping what appeared to be alcohol. Their gazes briefly met until he averted his eyes just as quickly, returning his focus to his group of friends. Despite his apparent nonchalance, you could still sense his lingering stare fixated upon you.

As your gaze met Sunghoon's, a mix of emotions surged within you—hurt, confusion, maybe even a hint of longing. The sight of him, casually engaging with his friends, stirred old memories, and a pang of disappointment hit you when he quickly averted his gaze.

You tried to focus on the conversation with your friends, but the lingering intensity of Sunghoon's stare weighed heavily on you. You couldn't help but wonder what was going through his mind.

As the night progressed, the room seemed to grow hotter, the air heavy with unspoken tension. Despite your efforts to enjoy yourself with Heeseung and your friends, you couldn't shake off the sensation of Sunghoon's eyes following you.

Each time your gaze subtly grazed in his direction, his cold, emotionless stare met yours. It was as if he had an uncanny ability to find you in the crowd, always observing from afar.

As the night wore on and the crowd thinned, Kazuha and Chaewon excused themselves to meet their respective dates. Heeseung, taking notice of your situation, turned to you with a suggestion.

He leaned in slightly, his voice carrying over the noise, "I'm going to grab some drinks. Want something?"

You hesitated for a moment, considering the option.

"Yeah, sure," you replied, trying to sound casual. "Just be quick."

He nodded and turned to leave, leaving you standing alone for a moment. Your gaze lingered in the direction where Sunghoon was sitting, but he wasn’t there. His friends were still there, but he wasn’t..

Your mind wandered, wondering why he had left without explaining.

"Did he go to the bathroom?" you muttered to yourself, trying to brush off the sudden unease within you.

A few moments later, Heeseung returned with two plastic cups in hand, the clear liquid within glimmering under the dancing lights. He handed you one, his smile subtle yet warm.

Taking the cup from him, you thanked him. As you took a sip, the slight bitter taste of the alcohol hit your tastebuds, but it was smooth enough not to burn your throat.

With some more drinks, you found yourself feeling increasingly hazy and woozy. Heeseung seemed to be in the same state, his eyes heavy with intoxication. At that very moment, his appearance held a certain allure, exuding an almost irresistible kissable aura.

Heeseung's normally charming demeanor had now taken on a different aura, fueled by the intoxicating effects of the alcohol. His eyes, usually bright and expressive, now held a mysterious allure, leaving you captivated and drawn towards him. The alcohol seemed to elevate the chemistry between you, making all the senses heightened and creating an intense pull in the air.

Heeseung's movements became more fluid and relaxed, his inhibitions lowered by the influence of alcohol. His gaze locked onto you, his eyes half-lidded, a sultry smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

Heeseung's hand found its way to your waist, gently pulling you closer. Despite your slightly unsteady state, he managed to steady himself against a nearby wall. "You look good tonight," he whispered as he leaned in slightly, his voice holding a hint of huskiness.

The proximity of his body to yours sent a subtle shiver down your spine, the warmth of his touch igniting a spark of chemistry. Your mind felt a little hazy, the alcohol further blurring the lines of control.

As he leaned against the wall, pulling you closer, the words escaped his lips in a soft whisper. "So pretty tonight," he repeated, his voice carrying a hint of sensuality that sent a jolt through your core.

You couldn't help but blush, the mix of emotions and alcohol creating a confusing whirlwind of sensations. His hand tightened on your waist, a possessive gesture that sent a subtle shiver through your body. You met his gaze hesitantly, unsure of what to do next.

As Heeseung's gaze held yours, your inhibitions grew weaker. Your heart pounded in your chest, the alcohol in your system making you bolder. Unable to resist any longer, you leaned forward, closing the small distance between you. Your lips met his, a moment of undeniable chemistry igniting between you.

At first, Heeseung seemed surprised by your unexpected boldness, but he quickly reciprocated the kiss, his hand sliding to your lower back and pulling you closer against him. The air grew hotter, charged with a potent mix of desire and intoxication.

The intensity of the kiss left you breathless, but as soon as you came to your senses, guilt and regret flooded your mind. Your heart pounded with the realization of what you had just done. Without hesitation, you pulled back abruptly, breaking the heated moment.

The overwhelming guilt and the alcohol in your system made it difficult to think clearly, so without a word, you quickly pushed away from Heeseung and made a beeline toward the exit.

As you suddenly pulled away from the kiss, Heeseung, still somewhat intoxicated, tried to comprehend the sudden shift in tone. With a confused expression, he called out to you, his voice a mixture of concern and confusion.

"Hey, wait! Where are you going?" He tried to grab your wrist, attempting to prevent you from leaving.

The alcohol in his system impaired his coordination, and he stumbled a little as he grasped your wrist, trying to keep you from bolting. His grip was firm, a desperate attempt to keep you from running away.

But your mind was set on escape, the guilt and shame coursing through your veins. His hand around your wrist felt like a burning weight, a reminder of the mistake, you feared you had made.

With a pang of guilt and determination, you yanked your wrist away, breaking free from his grip and fleeing without a backward glance. You felt your heart racing at this new side of Heeseung you never knew.

Heeseung, still slightly intoxicated and stunned by your abrupt actions, was determined not to let you escape so easily.

Despite your attempt to break free, he didn't back down. Instead, he tightened his grip on your wrist and pulled you back toward him, pulling you into the nearest washroom.

In a sudden burst of passion, he locked the door, pressing you against the solid surface. "I—I shouldn't have kissed you..." you muttered timidly, apprehensively anticipating his reactions. "Do you know how long I've been yearning, craving for that to happen?" He responded, visibly confused and hurt by your words. "What do you mean you shouldn't have kissed me?"

There was a hint of desperation in his tone, his voice tinged with pain.

He continued, his grip on your wrist still strong, pinning you against the wall. "All this time I've been waiting, hoping, praying for a moment like that to happen. And now you say it was a mistake?"

Before you could even utter a word in response, Heeseung acted swiftly, grasping your wrists with a single hand and pinning them above you, his grip firm yet filled with desire. Without a moment's hesitation, he leaned in, kissing you harshly.

His actions were driven by a mix of desperation and passion, his kiss forceful and dominant. The taste of his lips was a potent mix of alcohol and lingering sweetness, a mixture that only seemed to fuel the intensity of the moment. He didn't let you withdraw, pressing himself against you, the wall serving as a solid barrier behind you.

Heeseung forcefully held onto your wrists, keeping you firmly in place. He then trailed kisses down your neck, using his other hand to cover your mouth, muffling any cries for help that might alert others. “You shouldn’t have done that y/n,” he chuckled against your ear. “Look what you’ve got yourself into.”

A shiver ran down your spine as his deep, husky voice murmured against your ear. The combination of his firm grip on your wrists, combined with his hand over your mouth, left you feeling both powerless and helpless.

The way he continued to nuzzle against your neck only heightened the intoxicating mixture of confusion and desire. His words cut through the haze, a reminder that your actions had consequences.

Heeseung continued to trail kisses down your neck, savoring your scent with every gentle press of his lips against your skin.

"You smell so good..." he murmured in between soft kisses, his voice filled with a mixture of admiration and yearning. “Let me guess, Prada?”

His breath was warm against your skin as he moved to the side, trailing his lips along your cheek. "it is, isn't it?" Heeseung's nose lingered near your collarbone, breathing in your scent deeply, as if trying to memorize it. “Looks like we have the same taste in brands too huh?”

You attempted to move your head away from him, but he only responded by putting more force on your writs, causing you to whimper in response. "Ah-ah y/n," he murmured, a hint of warning in his voice, "don't try to do that..."

Heeseung's tone was firm and authoritative, sending a chill down your spine. The strength in his grip on your wrists reinforced his dominant position, leaving you no choice but to submit to his will.

Suddenly, the sound of the unlock of the bathroom door echoed through the space, jarring both you and Heeseung out of the moment. Without hesitation, whoever opened the door barged into the washroom.

Under normal circumstances, any observer would likely assume your current situation to be two weirdos doing something kinky.

However, Sunghoon knew you well enough to understand your body language. He could recognize the fear etched upon your eyes, perceiving your expressions as genuine distress rather than simulated passion.

His gaze shifted towards your widened eyes and trembling lips, noticing the subtle hints of fear and desperation etched upon your face.

The sound of the door unlocking had shattered any illusion, and he knew instantly that this was not a consensual situation you were willingly participating in.

Heeseung, too occupied with his fixation on you, was oblivious to the sudden intrusion. His grip on your wrists remained firm, his lips still pressed against your neck, unaware that someone had walked in.

Without a moment's hesitation, Sunghoon yanked Heeseung away from you, his fingers firmly gripping the collar of Heeseung's shirt, pulling him away from your trembling form.

Heeseung stumbled slightly as he was forcibly pulled away, surprised by the sudden intervention.

His eyes widened as he met Sunghoon's gaze, a mix of annoyance and defiance in his expression. "What the hell are you doing?" He snapped, attempting to shake off Sunghoon's grip.

Sunghoon's grip on his collar tightened, his tone sharp as steel. "Get off of her," he growled, his eyes locking onto Heeseung's with a chilling intensity. "Now."

Heeseung responded with a snarl, his words dripping with resentment. "And why do you care? You abandoned everyone, including your girlfriend, for two whole years, and now you show up out of no where playing hero?"

Sunghoon's jaw clenched at Heeseung's accusation, but he didn't back down. "That doesn't change the fact that what you're doing right now is wrong," he retorted, his grip never loosening. "She's clearly uncomfortable, and you're still holding onto her. Let go."

Heeseung's stubborn attitude persisted, refusing to budge. He scoffed, his voice dripping with mockery. "And what makes you think you have a right to intervene? You were never there for her when she needed you."

Sunghoon clenched his jaw, the weight of Heeseung's words sinking in. "That's not the point," he replied through gritted teeth. "The point is that you're taking advantage of her right now, and I'm not going to just stand by and let that happen."

Despite Heeseung's reluctance to back down, Sunghoon's grip on Heeseung's collar grew firmer, his voice dripping with determination. "Let go, or I swear, I'll make you let go." As he spoke, the intensity in his eyes grew more pronounced, a clear warning that he was dead serious.

Heeseung, sensing the seriousness in Sunghoon's tone, reluctantly released his grip on your wrists, his grip loosening.

You could practically feel the tension in the air as Heeseung reluctantly let go, his grip slackening, and you breathed a sigh of relief. Your wrists were sore from his tight hold, and every nerve in your body felt raw.

Finally free from his grasp, you took a moment to compose yourself, your thoughts still a chaotic whirlwind of confusion and fear. However, the sight of Sunghoon standing there, having come to your rescue, stirred a mix of emotions within you.

Heeseung, feeling the weight of the situation, reluctantly released you, his grip loosening. Without a word of apology or explanation, Heeseung swiftly straightened his clothes and brushed past Sunghoon, walking out of the washroom without looking back.

You tried to say something, but Sunghoon left before you could speak. “Sunghoon, wait!” But he doesn’t. He just kept going. You were left wondering what had just happened. The air was heavy with uncertainty, leaving you feeling confused and full of unanswered questions.

As Sunghoon walked away, his footsteps fading in the distance, you stood there, feeling overwhelmed by the whirlwind of emotions coursing through you. The air hung heavy with uncertainty, and a million questions swirled through your mind. What had just transpired? Why did he simply walk away without saying a word?

You call a taxi back to your dorm, not being able to focus in your drunken state. The whole time you were focused on what just happened back in the washroom. Finally, you arrived home, kicking off your shoes as you slouched down on the couch. Pulling out your phone you see 3 missed calls from Kazuha. You sigh as you turn your phone off, hurrying your face into a pillow, screaming inside of it.

The silence of your room was heavy, the weight of your thoughts and the memory of the events of the night settling heavily upon you. You sank onto the couch, burying your face in a nearby pillow as you let out a stifled scream, desperately trying to release the pent-up emotions from the night.

The thought of calling Sunghoon has came up once or twice, but you never ended up doing so. You then wondered why you didn’t see his ‘girlfriend’ there with him. Maybe Kazuha and Chaewon saw someone else that looked like Sunghoon? That had to be it.

The questions continued to swirl in your mind, and the image of Sunghoon's expressionless face as he left the washroom haunted your thoughts. Why had he simply left without a word, leaving you standing there confused and overwhelmed?

Just as you doze off from your drunken state, you saw Sunghoon’s caller ID on your phone as it rang on the bedside table. You quickly sat up, unplugging your phone as you picked it up. “Hello??” You answered, a feeling of both worry and excitement creeping on you. “Sunghoon?”

Sunghoon, sounding weary yet relieved, answered in a hushed tone. "Y/n, finally, you picked up."

You heard low, heavy breaths on the line for a few moments before a deep voice responded, "y/n..." The words were slurred with a hint of intoxication, betraying his state of inebriation.

The realization that he was not completely sober sent a pang of disappointment through your chest. A part of you had hoped for a clear, sober conversation, but it seemed fate had other plans.

“Hello?? Sunghoon, are you okay?” You asked with worry. Did he get hurt? Was he in trouble? Was he finally going to tell you why he was gone for so long. No, he didn’t do any of that. “Y/n.. just, just keep talking for me..”

He sighed heavily into the phone, his voice tinged with a hint of desperation. "Just...please talk to me. I need to hear your voice."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, a confusing mix of concern, relief, and a strange pang of longing coursing through you. Something about hearing his voice, even in its drunken state, stirred deep emotions within you. "Okay, Sunghoon," you replied softly, your voice tinged with a touch of resignation, "I'll keep talking."

Sunghoon let out a sigh of relief, his tone now tinged with vulnerability. "Okay..." He paused for a moment, heavy panting noises were heard before continuing. "I just...I need to hear you talk y/n."

His words hung in the air, almost as if he was seeking something more than just the sound of your voice. There was a vulnerability in his tone that tugged at your heartstrings. "Alright," you responded, your voice tinged with a hint of concern, "I'm here, I'm listening. What do you want me to say?"

The sound of a muffled groan reached your ears, followed by Sunghoon's request, his voice tinged with desperation, "Anything—just keep talking for me..."

The raw emotion in his voice, tinged with need, sent a shiver down your spine. You took a deep breath, feeling a strange mix of concern and confusion. What was happening? Why did he want to hear you talking so badly, especially in his state of inebriation?

Your concern and confusion blended together as you asked, "Sunghoon, what are you doing?" You moved to a sitting position on your bed, allowing your legs to dangle.

There was a moment of silence before he finally responded, his voice slurred with intoxication. "I just... I had a rough night, y/n. I needed to hear your voice, to know you're real."

The pieces quickly started to fall into place as you heard him swear under his breath, and his labored breaths grew even more labored. Suddenly, realization struck: you knew exactly what was happening on the other end of the call.

A mix of concern and embarrassment washed over you as you gradually understood the situation. It seemed like Sunghoon was in a vulnerable state, and hearing the strained sound of his breathing made everything clearer. "Sunghoon," you began softly, a twinge of worry in your voice, "Are you... are you alone right now?"

"Yeah, I'm alone…" he murmured lowly, heavy breaths still audible in the background. “Why?”

You took a second in to process what was going on before you finally answered him. “Are you..” you pause. Was it too risky? No, fuck it.

“Are you jerking off..?”

Sunghoon froze for a moment, the heavy breathing suddenly coming to an abrupt halt. You could almost sense the surprise and panic on the other end of the line, the silence growing thick with tension. After a brief pause, he finally responded, his voice strained, "I— uh… yes."

He didn't deny it or try to hide the truth, his response confirming your suspicion. The realization hit you like a ton of bricks, your mind swimming with confusion and conflicting emotions. What was he thinking? Why was he doing this? Why did he call you in the midst of such a personal moment?

His plea came through the line, his speech heavy with breathlessness, "Just—just keep talking for me, y/n..." The air of desperation was palpable in his tone, making it clear that he was engaged in something physical. “I’m so close, please…”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, and you winced inwardly at his bluntness. The sounds of his breath and the desperate tone of his voice were hard to ignore. You felt a mixture of conflicting emotions, torn between concern, confusion, and a strange pang of sadness. "Sunghoon, I… I don’t understand," you finally managed to say, your own voice wavering. "Why are you asking me to talk to you while you… do that?"

The desperation in his voice intensified as he pleaded with you, his tone pleading, "Y/n, y/n please... please just keep talking for me, be a good girl and keep talking..."

The words stung like a burn, and you felt a strange mix of frustration and helplessness. Your concern for him was growing, and the conflicting feelings coursing through you added to your inner turmoil. "But, Sunghoon… I can't just sit here listening to this. This... it feels weird, and I don't know what to say," you replied, your voice shaking.

His voice became more commanding as he requested, "Tell me... tell me how much you missed me when I was gone, tell me y/n." The intensity in his tone indicated that he wanted, if not outright demanded, a specific response from you.

Your heart skipped a beat at the command in his voice, and a wave of uncertainty washed over you. Missing him wasn't the issue, but the request felt almost manipulative in this situation. "Sunghoon..." you began, your voice strained, "I can't just say it like that. It doesn't feel right. Don't do this to me right now."

“Y/n…” he groaned, almost wet slapping noise heard in the background now. “Do you want me to turn on my camera??”

The words hit you like a cold bucket of water, the sound in the background only adding to the intensity of the situation.

Alarm bells rang in your head, and you felt a surge of panic. "What? No, don’t do that!" You quickly responded, your voice laced with alarm and frustration. "Why are you even asking that? I don’t want to see—"

Too late.

Before you could finish your sentence and protest further, the sound of a call request beeped on your phone, his name appearing at the top. Your heart leaped into your throat as your suspicion was confirmed—he was requesting a video call.

Your mind raced, torn between the feeling of not wanting to see what was happening and the lingering curiosity, possibly concern for what he was doing to himself. With a trembling hand, you hesitated before finally accepting the call, the screen filling with his image.

The sight of him on your screen was a shock. He was shirtless, his chest heaving heavily, his body exposed and vulnerable. The sight made your heart skip a beat, and you felt a pang of mixed emotions. He was sweating, biting his lip, his eyes filled with a strange mixture of lust and desperation.

“Oh shit,” he muttered under his breath, realizing the camera was focused on him, not what he wanted you to see, so he flips the camera.

There were no words to describe the wave of conflicting emotions coursing through you as the camera flipped around. You could only watch, heart pounding, as he adjusted the angle, revealing a perspective that made your stomach twist with unease. You swallowed hard, unsure of what to say or do as the reality of the situation sunk in even deeper.

His veiny throbbing manhood was leaking with pre-cum as he used one hand to stroke it up and down as the other one is used to hold the camera. “Y/n, keep talking for me..” he pleaded in a low raspy tone. “Please..”

“I… I don’t know what to say,” you stammered, your mind racing, struggling to process the visual unfolding before you on the screen. The sight was both shocking and overwhelming, and you felt lost for words.

The desperation in Sunghoon’s voice was palpable, his plea hanging in the air, and your heart ached with conflicting emotions. "Please, y/n," he begged once more, "Just keep talking to me."

Each breath you took was heavy, and the words stuck in your throat. The mixture of concern and confusion warred within you, leaving you speechless. How did you end up in this situation? Why were you even on the phone with him, witnessing this intimate moment?

Your eyes darted between the screen and your own hands, feeling helpless and overwhelmed. "Sunghoon," you finally managed to speak, your voice trembling, "Why are you doing this? Why did you ask me to talk to you while… while you're… doing this?"

The plea in your voice was evident, the raw mix of emotions seeping through. "Please, y/n, just keep talking… I need you right now," Sunghoon urged, his voice heavy with vulnerability and desperation.

He repeated the question once again, his words tinged with a sense of insistence, "Are you looking? Looking?" followed by clarification, "Looking at your screen, at what my camera is focused on y/n."

You swallowed, feeling trapped, your heart racing. The command in his tone was undeniable, and you couldn't help but glance at the screen hesitantly. "Yes," you breathed out shakily, your voice barely above a whisper, "Yes, I'm looking."

His voice shifted, taking on a more possessive tone as he murmured, "Good girl, now keep talking for me..." The intensity in his words increased further as it was evident that his hand moved faster.

Your breath hitched in your throat, the situation escalating unexpectedly. The mixture of conflicting emotions was overwhelming, and your mind reeled with confusion. Hearing the words “good girl” made your stomach flutter, and the intensity in his voice sent a shiver down your spine.

You couldn't deny him your voice, no matter how strange and uncomfortable this felt. "Okay," you replied, your voice strained, "I'll keep talking for you."

His voice turned demanding once again, his tone dripping with need, "Tell me how you felt when I was gone, tell me how much you missed me." With each word, the yearning in his voice deepened.

The request felt both intimate and manipulative, but you knew you couldn’t deny it completely. You took a breath before finally responding, your voice tinged with vulnerability.

"Sunghoon…" you hesitated, the words catching in your throat for a moment before continuing. "When you were gone, I missed you… a lot. I missed your presence. I missed talking to you, hanging out with you… I missed you."

As you recalled the weight of his absence, the memories flooded your mind. "I could never forget how much pain I went through when you disappeared without a word," you admitted softly, "And now you're back, and it's like all the old feelings are coming back..."

He suddenly broke the heated atmosphere, his voice tinged with remorse as he apologized, "God I'm so sorry y/n." The words were heavy with regret, his breath growing heavier with each moment, each syllable tinged with a hint of desperation. "I—I didn’t know what to do..." His confession hung in the air as he continued to stroke his huge throbbing member.

The pain in his voice tugged at your heartstrings, but his words left you confused. "What do you mean… you didn’t know what to do?" you asked, your voice laced with a mix of concern and curiosity.

"I—I didn't know how to handle my feelings for you... When I left," he stammered, his voice quivering with vulnerability. "I was scared. Scared of messing up, scared of hurting you. So I pushed you away, thinking it was the best thing to do."

“F-fuck,” he muttered, quickening his pace. “Please y/n, I’m so fucking close, keep talking for me yeah?”

The pleading in his voice sent a shiver down your spine. It was a strange mix of feelings—a knot in your stomach, confusion, and somehow, a sense of being needed.

"Okay," you murmured, your voice soft and reluctant yet tinged with a hint of submission. "I'll keep talking for you... If that's what you want."

As you continued to watch him please himself, you felt a tingling sensation, bucking your hips up a bit as you let out a quiet whimper. Sunghoon chuckled at your noise. “Are you turned on y/n?”

The question caught you off guard, and you felt an odd mixture of embarrassment and excitement. "W-what?" you stammered, "No, I'm just... I'm just..." You paused, caught in your own reaction, torn between wanting to deny and wanting to admit the truth.

The smirk on his face grew wider as he realized the effect he was having on you. "Say it, y/n," he commanded with a hint of dominance in his tone. "Don't deny it."

Your body responded involuntarily to his words, making it harder to deny. A small whimper escaped from you again, betraying your attempts at denial. "I..." Your voice trailed off, your body shifting restlessly on the bed, a mix of conflicting feelings coursing through you.

He chuckled softly at your response, the sound both smug and seductive. "That's right," he murmured, his voice filled with a hint of satisfaction. "Admit it. You're turned on by watching your ex jerk himself off by your voice, aren't you?

The admission made your face heat up, but there was no denying the truth. "Yes," you confessed in a hushed tone, your voice barely audible, "I am."

The mixture of embarrassment and arousal was overwhelming, and you couldn't deny the effect his presence had on you, no matter how confusing it felt. You then slowly proceeded to slide a hand inside your shorts, moving aside your panties as you started to touch yourself, letting out a loud whimper.

“God y/n,” Sunghoon groaned loudly. “You’re such a slut.” The words hit you like a punch to the gut, but they also sent a wave of guilt through you as a mixture of conflicting emotions coursed through your veins.

“S-sunghoon..” you whined, inserting a finger into your cunt as you thrusted at a quick pace.

Sunghoon's voice took on a teasing lilt as he chuckled and inquired, "Yeah y/n? What is it, what's wrong?" Despite his apparent amusement, there was a hint of concern hidden beneath his words, as if he sensed your unease.

The mixture of the teasing tone and hints of concern added to your confusion. "It’s just… I don’t know if… if we should be doing this," you muttered in between breaths, your conflicting emotions making it difficult to voice your concerns clearly.

“Do you miss it?”

“Miss what?”

“What do miss what you’re looking at right now?”

His question caught you off guard, your mind scrambling for an answer. "I—I miss… your touch," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper, "I miss the way you would make me feel with your hands, your lips, your body, your cock…" The guilt gnawed at you, but you couldn’t deny the truth.

A low growl escaped his lips, and he muttered, "Oh god..." The intensity in his voice was palpable as his breathing continued to grow increasingly heavy. “Y/n- y/n m’ cuming—“

Your heart pounded as you heard his words, the mixture of anticipation and guilt still swirling inside you. "Wait, wait," you protested, "Not now, not on camera, please–"

Suddenly, a gush of white liquid squirted out of his cock as it spilt everywhere, a deep loud moan being let out afterwards. You felt yourself getting close sooner than later, adding another finger inside your hole. “S-Sunghoon!” You whimpered, arching your back to the heated sensation.

Sunghoon's breath was heavy and ragged, his chest heaving as he tried to regain composure. A mix of satisfaction and something else lingered in his eyes, the intensity of his gaze still palpable despite the aftermath.

"Y/n..." he murmured, his voice carrying a hint of surprise and a touch of something else. "Show me what you’re doing, turn on your camera sweetie."

You froze, caught between compliance and hesitation. The demand felt like a crossroad, uncertainty and excitement coursing through your veins. But there was curiosity too.

"Come on," he urged softly, his voice almost like a gentle command. "Let me how you’re pleasing yourself to my voice."

The words echoed in your mind, igniting a mixture of desire and vulnerability. You hesitated for a moment, the weight of the request heavy on your heart. But slowly, you found yourself drawn in by the allure of his voice, the temptation of obedience growing stronger with each passing second.

"Don't be shy, y/n," he urged gently, "I want to see how much you miss my touch. Show me."

In the face of his insistence, the last remnants of your resistance wavered. Biting your lip, you slowly reached for the camera, your hands trembling with a mix of anticipation and trepidation.

“Only two fingers y/n?” Sunghoon scoffed, a clear offence in his tone. “Come on, you know I’m bigger than that.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in response. "I know!" you snapped. "I...I can't...I'm trying..." the rest of the words dying in your throat.

His voice turned more domineering as he instructed with a hint of authority, "Put another finger in..." The words left his lips with a subtle demand, as if seeking explicit obedience from you.

Reluctance danced in your eyes, but a part of you couldn't help but react to his tone. Without wanting to, your body responded, submitting to the authority in his voice.

"That's right." He encouraged, a sense of satisfaction and ownership lacing his tone. "That's it, y/n."

The words both grated and excited you. There was a strange sense of satisfaction in obeying, but it only fueled the conflict in your mind. "Sunghoon...I—Im cumming, oh god Sunghoon, I’m so close!" You were torn between seeking release and questioning if this was the right path to take.

"Good girl." He murmured with satisfaction, his voice filled with a mixture of possessiveness and encouragement. "Give it to me. Don't hold back."

The words left you breathless, a mix of frustration and arousal coursing through your veins. You felt both empowered and vulnerable, surrendering to his command yet fighting against the overwhelming rush of sensations coursing through your body.

After what felt like an eternity, you felt yourself reach your climax, your lungs gasping for oxygen as you pull your coaxed fingers out.

Your body trembled with the aftermath, beads of sweat trickling down your forehead. The air was thick with a mix of satisfaction and uncertainty. A heavy silence hung between you both, the weight of the moment palpable in the air.

Sunghoon observed you quietly, his eyes roaming over your disheveled form. There was a hint of a satisfied smile playing at the corners of his lips, but it was tinged with a trace of concern. "Are you okay, y/n?" He finally asked, his voice soft and laced with a hint of genuine care.

You took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and satisfaction coursing through your veins. "Yeah," you manage to reply, your voice shaky but laced with a hint of vulnerability, "I think so..."

His words were slurred, a consequence of his intoxication, as he offered a simple, "That’s good y/n." There was a hint of detachment in his tone, suggesting that his judgment was clouded by the effects of alcohol. You couldn’t help but recall your own inebriated state.

A pang of guilt washed over you as you considered both your and his altered states, a nagging feeling of regret settling in. The situation had spiraled out of control, fueled by alcohol and clouded judgment.

You were left hanging once again, the call abruptly ending without explanation. "Great," you thought, feeling frustrated at the abrupt cutoff. The silence that followed was deafening, leaving you with more questions than answers.

You sat there, confused and frustrated, the silence heavy in the air. The sudden disconnect from Sunghoon left you feeling a mix of confusion and irritation after what he just did, after what he showed you. Your thoughts swirled with unanswered questions, the sudden end of the call leaving you with a sense of ambiguity.

You couldn't help but wonder why he had ended the call so abruptly, leaving you hanging without a proper explanation. Questions flooded your mind, and uncertainty gnawed at your core. What had possessed him to do what he did? Was it just the influence of alcohol and his lingering feelings for you? Or was there more to this than what it seemed? You sighed as you put your shorts back on, pulling the covers over your body. You’d just have to wait and confront him the next day at campus.

—

You found yourself anxiously entering the campus the next day, your heart pounding in anticipation of seeing him. Throughout the night, you had replayed the events of the previous evening in your mind countless times, wrestling with conflicting emotions. On one hand, you were upset by his actions and the unexpected ending of the call. On the other hand, you couldn't deny the complex mixture of arousal, nostalgia, and longing that had stirred within you.

Every step you took brought you closer to the possibility of encountering him, the idea both thrilling and nerve-wracking. As you navigated the bustling campus, your eyes scanned every corner and hallway, searching for a glimpse of him. Your mind churned with questions, wondering how he would react when he saw you, if he would act as if nothing had happened or if he would acknowledge it.

You spotted Kazuha and Chaewon, seated on a nearby bench. You approached them, wanting to inquire if they had glimpsed any sign of him around.

As you drew closer to the two, you saw Kazuha noticing you, her eyes lighting up with recognition. She nudged Chaewon, who turned towards you as well. A mixture of curiosity and excitement danced in their eyes.

"Hey y/n!" They greeted you with playful smiles, their voices carrying across the space between you. "What's up? You look lost in thought." Kazuha teased, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

You smiled back, feeling a sense of familiarity in their presence. "Hey guys," you replied, glancing between them. "Have either of you seen Sunghoon around? I need to talk to him."

They exchanged puzzled glances before Chaewon spoke up, "I thought you were over him... Something come up?" Her question was laced with curiosity and concern, as if she sensed a change in your feelings or situation.

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to respond. "It's complicated," you admitted, your voice tinged with a mix of uncertainty and vulnerability. "We had a... weird encounter last night." As the words left your lips, you couldn't help but feel a knot tighten in your stomach.

Kazuha and Chaewon exchanged another glance, their curiosity deepening. They could tell that whatever had happened between you and Sunghoon had left you in a state of turmoil. "A weird encounter?" Kazuha prodded gently, her voice laced with genuine concern.

You responded with mild irritation, "Just—tell me if you saw him today." Although you tried to mask it with a casual tone, the underlying anxiousness in your voice was apparent.

The girls seemed to pick up on the tension in your voice. Kazuha replied after a brief pause, her tone cautious, "We did see him earlier. He was heading towards the library, I think."

Chaewon chimed in, "Yeah, he looked like he was in a bit of a rush though. Maybe he's busy studying or something?"

“Or maybe he’s spending time with that girl he made out with a few days ago..” Kazuha added in a teasing tone.

Your heart sank at the reminder, but you couldn't let your emotions show. "Right," you responded dryly, trying to maintain a facade of nonchalance. "Thanks for the info, I'll go check the library then."

The girls exchanged a knowing glance, sensing the hint of disappointment in your voice, but they didn't press further. "Sure, no problem," Chaewon replied, her tone softening. "Good luck."

You nodded in appreciation before turning and heading towards the library, your mind racing with mixed feelings. The image of him with that other girl resurfaced, stirring up a blend of jealousy and resignation.

As you made your way through the campus, your mind drifted between the desire to confront him and the fear of discovering a painful truth. The walk to the library felt longer than usual, each step weighed down by the uncertainty brewing within you.

The library loomed in the distance, its imposing structure a symbol of knowledge and tranquility. However, today it felt like a place of reckoning, where the truth might reveal itself. Your heart pounded in anticipation, the conflicting emotions raging within you as you pushed open the door and stepped inside.

The quiet surroundings engulfed you as you entered the library. The scent of books and silence hung heavily in the air. Your eyes scanned the aisles, searching through the labyrinth of shelves for any sign of him. The silence was broken only by the occasional rustling of pages and soft whispers from fellow students studying.

You moved through the rows of books, your footsteps muffled by the carpet. Each step brought you closer to the possibility of encountering him, and your mind raced with questions. Was he alone? Was he with that girl? Would he be willing to talk?

Your gaze followed the direction of your friends' glances, finding him sitting beside a girl who was quite attractive. The sight of his genuine smile didn't go unnoticed by you, leaving a subtle pang of jealousy in your chest.

You watched from a distance, observing their interaction from afar. Sunghoon looked relaxed and at ease next to her, a genuine smile gracing his lips. The sight of their connection stirred up a mix of feelings within you: jealousy, curiosity, and a hint of disappointment.

The girl was not only beautiful but seemed to effortlessly draw Sunghoon's attention, her every movement capturing his gaze. The laughter that occasionally escaped them added to your unease, each moment making the knot in your stomach grow tighter.

Why was it that every time you tried to move on, it didn’t work? He left you without an explanation, said that he ‘didn’t know what to do,’ and then last night.. last night is something you didn’t ever want to think about at this point.

You couldn't deny the conflicting emotions swirling within you. The mixture of resentment, betrayal, and lingering feelings had left an ache in your chest. Seeing him so comfortable with someone new only amplified the intensity of those emotions.

As you continued to observe, a mix of conflicting emotions flooded your mind. The sight of him laughing and talking effortlessly with the other girl stirred up old feelings of resentment and betrayal. The pang of jealousy intertwined with a hint of disappointment, and the more you watched, the tighter the knot in your stomach twisted.

A part of you yearned for the days when you shared moments like that, when his laughter was reserved only for you. The sight of him finding happiness with someone else felt like a painful reminder of what was lost.

Before your thoughts could spiral any further, something caught your attention. Sunghoon suddenly stood up from his seat, his expression shifting as if sensing your presence.

Your heart skipped a beat as his gaze met yours, a mixture of surprise and wariness crossing his features. For a moment, time seemed to stand still as you both locked eyes across the library.

There was a tense silence between you, the weight of your shared history and unspoken words hanging in the air. Sunghoon's gaze lingered on yours for a few moments longer before he slowly turned and walked towards you.

With each step he took, your heart pounded louder in your chest, the anticipation mingling with a hint of anxiety within you. The sound of his footsteps echoed through the quiet library as he approached you, his expression still guarded.

As he finally stood before you, there was a hesitant pause, an air of uncertainty hanging between you. "Y/n," he finally spoke, his voice tinged with a mix of nostalgia and trepidation.

The sound of your name on his lips sent a pang through your heart, stirring up memories from past times. You could feel the weight of his words, the weight of the history that laid between you.

"Can we talk?" he continued, his gaze searching yours for any hint of your feelings. "In private, please."

A scoff escaped your lips as you concluded, "I think I already know what’s going on," indicating your suspicion over the situation. Without another word, you turned and started walking away, leaving behind your friends and the lingering uncertainty.

Sunghoon watched you walk away, a flicker of surprise crossing his face as you left without giving him a chance to explain. He hesitated for a brief moment, then swiftly turned to follow after you, determined to catch up.

As he caught up to you, he walked alongside you in a hurry, his steps quickening to match your pace. "Y/n... wait," he pleaded, his voice tinged with urgency. "Please, let me explain."

“Explain what Sunghoon?” you snapped as your eyes widened. "Explain that you disappear on me for two years, make out with a random girl, save me from Heeseung at the party, call me to listen to my voice so you can get off, and then go back to another girl right afterwards?" Your words hung heavily in the air, leaving him stunned, speechless for a brief moment.

Sunghoon was momentarily caught off guard by your outburst, his brows furrowed in confusion. "Wait, what girl?" He repeated, a hint of bewilderment in his voice.

"The girl that Chaewon and Kazuha saw you making out with a few days ago near campus!" Your words were laced with anger and betrayal, as the memory of his intimate encounter with someone else still stung your heart.

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow in confusion, responding, "What?? I never made out with a girl??" His denial carried a hint of disbelief, as if he couldn’t reconcile your accusation with reality. "You know Kazuha and Chaewon aren’t your real friends, they’re just using you." His words held a warning tone, as if trying to open your eyes to something you had been oblivious to.

Your heart sank at his denial, the conflicting emotions swirling within you. You wanted to believe him, but the image of him with that girl still haunted you. "Why would they lie about something like that?" you questioned, your voice tinged with skepticism and hurt.

Sunghoon sighed, his expression softening as he looked at you directly. "Because they want to cause trouble," he explained, his voice laced with sincerity. "They know our history and they want to stir up jealousy."

Your uncertainty remained evident as you responded, "Okay... But then who's that girl over there?" You pointed out the girl he had been seated with, your gaze full of suspicion and curiosity.

Sunghoon followed your gaze before realization dawned on his face. "Oh, that's my cousin." He clarified, his tone a mix of understanding and surprise. "We were catching up, nothing more, nothing less."

A sigh of relief escaped your lips, feeling somewhat reassured that Sunghoon wasn’t involved with the girl. Your voice turned shy and vulnerable as you asked, "Why'd you hang up yesterday night?" The question lingered in the air, seeking an explanation for his abrupt departure.

Sunghoon hesitated for a moment, his gaze dropping to the ground before meeting yours once more. His tone was tinged with remorse, his voice softer than before. "I... I didn’t want to take advantage of you while you were drunk," he admitted, his eyes searching yours hopefully for understanding.

You posed a straightforward question, seeking clarity, "So then why did you call me? Why’d you—you know…" The direct inquiry hung in the air, demanding a candid answer.

His gaze held a mixture of guilt and vulnerability as he replied, "Because I missed you... I missed your voice more than anything else. I wanted to hear it, to feel close to you even if it was just for a moment." There was sincerity in his tone, a hint of longing in his words.

You desperately wanted to believe his explanation, but the weight of his absence and avoidance for two years weighed heavily on your mind. Your words held a mixture of hurt and skepticism, "But you left for two years and were avoiding me the first couple of days..." Your statement bore the marks of lingering pain, reflecting your lingering doubts about his intentions.

Sunghoon flinched, the weight of your words clearly affecting him. He ran a hand through his hair, the gesture laced with frustration and impatience. "Yes, I was avoiding you," he confessed, his voice tinged with a touch of defensiveness. "because I was terrified of losing control if I saw you again."

The librarian, a stern and strict-looking woman, walked up to them, her eyebrow raised in irritation. "Excuse me, but you two are causing a commotion," she scolded, her voice stern and unwavering. "If you don't quiet down, I'll have to ask you to leave."

Sunghoon nodded, acknowledging the librarian's concerns. "Sorry, ma'am, we'll keep it down," he assured, his tone apologetic. He glanced at you, a silent plea in his eyes for you to comply.

You could sense the urgency in Sunghoon's gaze, his silent plea for calm and compliance. Reluctantly, you swallowed your retort and nodded. "Sorry," you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper.

The librarian's stern expression softened slightly, seemingly satisfied with their response. "Good," she nodded, then glanced around the library, noticing the curious onlookers. "Now, please keep it low, or find someplace else to talk." With that final warning, she returned to her desk, resuming her watchful gaze over the library.

Sunghoon gave you a sidelong glance, a hint of amusement tugging at the corners of his lips. "Seems we've attracted some unwanted attention," he remarked quietly, the slightest hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

Your voice shook with anger and vulnerability as you protested, "This is not something you can just joke about, Sunghoon.” The pain and frustration were evident in your tone, indicating that his actions had deeply stung your trust.

His smirk faded as he caught the anger and hurt in your voice, realizing the weight of his actions. "I didn't mean it like that," he insisted, his tone softer. "I'm just trying to lighten the mood."

You felt conflicted. On one hand, you were still angry and hurt by his disappearance. On the other hand, his attempt to make light of the situation stirred up conflicting feelings within you. He always had a way of making you simultaneously frustrated and drawn to him.

Sunghoon glanced at the library, noting the watchful eye of the librarian. He knew they wouldn't get a chance to fully talk there without drawing more attention, so he suggested an alternative. "We can't talk here," he stated quietly, his gaze meeting yours. "Why don't you come over to my place?"

A subtle flush of embarrassment crossed your cheeks at his suggestion, the implication of being at his place causing a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. "Your...place?" you questioned, a hint of hesitation in your voice.

His response carried a hint of mockery as he retorted, "What? You’ve been there multiple times."

Your cheeks reddened even more at his remark, the memory of your past visits flooding your thoughts. "I know that," you stuttered, your voice betraying your flustered state. "But that was back then."

A smirk tugged at the corners of his lips, realizing his words had flustered you. "So what? You scared?" he teased, his tone dripping with a hint of playful challenge.

Your eyes narrowed at him, a mixture of annoyance and stubbornness etched across your features. "I’m not scared," you retorted, your voice laced with defiance. "Let’s just go, I don’t have all day."

Sunghoon chuckled, amused by your stubborn attitude. "Okay, tough girl," he teased, falling into step next to you as you headed towards the exit.

The cool air hit your skin as you stepped outside, the sunlight casting a warm glow across the campus. As you walked beside Sunghoon, a mix of emotions swirled inside of you.

There was a faint sense of anxiety, curiosity, nostalgia, and even a hint of excitement at the possibility of getting some answers. The silence between you felt both comfortable and awkward, as if both of you were navigating through uncharted territory once more.

The walk to his place felt both familiar and foreign at the same time. The route, once well-known, now seemed slightly altered, as if time had altered the landscape of the memories that surrounded it.

You tried to push away the thoughts, focusing on the present, yet the weight of the past continued to linger in the air, an invisible presence that followed you both.

As you approached his building, memories flooded your mind—the countless times you had come here, the laughter shared and secrets whispered beneath the roof of his apartment. It was as if the walls held the echo of your shared history, waiting to be stirred by your presence once more.

Sunghoon held the door open for you, gesturing for you to enter first. With a hesitant nod, you stepped inside, finding yourself surrounded by the familiar scent and atmosphere of his place.

The faint aroma of his cologne and the warmth of familiarity engulfed you, stirring up a mix of nostalgia and anticipation.

As you entered the living room, a palpable silence filled the air. It felt as if the room itself held its breath, suspended in the tension between the past and the present.

Sunghoon's footsteps echoed softly as he closed the door behind you, sealing the two of you inside. The sound seemed to amplify the gravity of the moment, the weight of unspoken words and unresolved emotions almost tangible.

You stood there, taking in the quietude, the air between you heavy with anticipation and uncertainty.

The silence stretched on, filling the void with unspoken questions and lingering memories. Sunghoon broke the quiet first, his voice soft and hesitant as he finally spoke. "Wanna have a seat?"

You nodded, your own voice barely perceptible. The room seemed to shrink around you as you followed his gesture, perching yourself on the couch adjacent to the one he chose.

The cushions dipped under your weight, a subtle reminder of the countless moments of comfort shared between you.

As you settled onto the couch, a wave of memories washed over you. The worn fabric, the familiar indentations in the cushions—it felt like time had slipped away, leaving behind echoes of laughter, quiet conversations, and moments of intimacy. You tried to shake off the nostalgia, clearing your throat as you stole a glance at Sunghoon, sitting across from you.

The silence thickened once more, and you could feel his gaze on you. The air felt charged with tension, the weight of the unsaid words and lingering emotions hanging in the space between you. You took a deep breath, mustering the courage to break the silence, but before you could speak, Sunghoon's voice cut through, tinged with a hint of vulnerability. "Can I ask you something?"

Your heart skipped a beat at the vulnerability in his voice, the familiar sound stirring memories you thought you had buried deep within. You swallowed hard, nodding slightly, though you braced yourself for whatever question he was about to ask.

Sunghoon paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts, before finally posing the question that hung heavily in the air. "Do you hate me?" He asked, his voice tinged with a hint of insecurity.

The question struck a nerve, causing a pang of guilt to wash over you. You felt a mixture of defiance and vulnerability rise within you as you replied, your voice laced with a hint of defensiveness. "No. Not Really. What you did was still wrong though. Why? Have I not made that clear to you already? You disappeared for two years, Sunghoon. Two years." Your voice trembled, the pain of his absence evident in your tone.

Sunghoon nodded, his expression tinged with remorse. "I know," he admitted, his voice soft and sincere. "I messed up, big time. I was scared, confused, and I thought disappearing was the easiest way to deal with it at the time." He paused, his eyes locking onto yours, a silent plea for understanding etched across his features.

Your heart softened at his words, a pang of mixed emotions coursing through you. You wanted to be angry, but you couldn't deny the sincerity in his voice. With a sigh, you shifted in your seat, your defenses slowly starting to crumble. "Why were you so scared, then?" You asked, curiosity mixing with the remnants of bitterness in your voice.

Sunghoon ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture that revealed his vulnerability. "Because I didn't know if I could control myself around you," he confessed, his voice dropping lower. "I knew how much I still cared about you, how strong my feelings still were. I was terrified that if I saw you again, I would lose control—lose my resolve."

Your heart wrenched at his confession. A mixture of relief and confusion swirled within you. His words both validated and stirred up old emotions. You swallowed hard, trying to steady your voice as you spoke. "And what about now?" You asked, your voice trembling. "How do you feel now?"

Sunghoon's gaze locked onto yours, his eyes glimmering with sincerity. "I still feel the same way," he admitted, his voice steady yet tinged with vulnerability. "I never stopped caring, never stopped loving you."

You clenched your teeth, frustrated by the emotions swirling within you. "Then why?" You voiced, your tone tinged with a touch of desperation. "Why come back after two years? Why now, Sunghoon?"

Sunghoon tensed, his shoulders visibly stiffening at your question. He could sense the vulnerability in your voice, the desperation for an answer, and it weighed on him.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "I came back because I couldn't stay away any longer," he admitted, his voice tinged with remorse. "Being away from you... it was killing me. Seeing you from afar, knowing I could never truly be with you, it broke something inside of me."

You clenched your fists, a mix of pain and frustration rising within you. "Where did you go, Sunghoon?" You asked, your voice trembling. "Where did you disappear to for two years?"

Sunghoon flinched at your question, the weight of it hitting him hard. He could hear the pain in your voice, the desperation for answers. He took a deep breath before finally responding, his voice laced with a mix of guilt and vulnerability. "I went back to Korea."

Your heart skipped a beat, confusion and anger swirling within you. Korea? How could he just up and leave like that, disappear without a word, and then simply return as if nothing had happened?

Your voice trembled as you spoke, the hurt seeping through every word. "Why?" You pushed further. "Why Korea? Why did you choose to flee without a trace?"

Sunghoon ran a hand through his hair again, a nervous gesture that revealed his inner turmoil. His eyes seemed to search for the right words as he spoke, his voice filled with a mix of regret and vulnerability.

"I... I panicked, y/n," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "I was terrified of losing control, of the feelings I still had for you. I thought if I left, it would be easier..."

Your heart ached at his confession, a mix of hurt and confusion swirling within you. You tried to force back the tears that threatened to spill over. "Easier?" You repeated, your voice trembling. "Easier for whom, Sunghoon? Easier for you?"

Sunghoon's gaze dropped to the floor, unable to meet your eyes. He knew the pain and confusion he had caused. "Easier for me..." he admitted softly, his voice tinged with regret.

"I was selfish, y/n. I thought running away would make things easier for me, but I never considered the pain it would cause you. Please, let me make it up to you…”

The sincerity in his voice tugged at your heart, his remorse evident. But you couldn't ignore the anger and hurt that still coursed through you.

"Make it up to me?" You repeated, your voice tinged with a mix of frustration and vulnerability. "How? By suddenly appearing in my life again? By expecting me to forgive and forget everything?"

Sunghoon's shoulders slumped, his eyes welling up with tears. "No... I don't expect you to forgive me, y/n," he confessed, his voice heavy with guilt. "What I did was unforgivable. But please, I'm begging you, just give me a chance… to show you how sorry I am, how much I still care about you."

Your heart ached at the sight of his tears, the vulnerability in his voice tugging at the strings that still connected you to him. But the pain and anger were too fresh, too deep. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself.

"A chance...?" You whispered, your voice trembling. "How can I trust you, Sunghoon? After everything you put me through, how can I trust that you won't just disappear again?"

Sunghoon reached out, his hand almost making contact with yours, but he stopped midway, remembering the boundaries he had created. He swallowed hard, the weight of your words settling heavy on his shoulders.

“You can't…" he admitted softly, his voice laced with pain. "I don't expect you to trust me right away. But please, give me a chance to prove myself, to show you that I'm here to stay."

Your heart ached at his words, the sincerity in his voice both soothing and aggravating. You hated the way he still affected you, the way his presence stirred up feelings you had tried so desperately to bury. Hesitantly, you lifted your gaze to meet his, the vulnerability in his eyes piercing through the barrier you had built around yourself. "And what if I want to trust you?" You asked softly, your voice trembling with a mixture of hope and fear.

Sunghoon's expression softened, a glimmer of hope igniting in his eyes. "Then I would do everything in my power to earn that trust back, y/n, no matter how long it takes," he vowed, his voice tinged with sincerity and determination. “I love you, and I never stopped.”

The raw vulnerability in his voice sent a shockwave through you, stirring a mix of emotions you couldn't ignore.

Your mind warred with your heart, conflicting feelings pulling at you from every direction. "But what about us?" You asked, your voice barely above a whisper. "Can we ever be... what we were before?"

Sunghoon leaned closer, his eyes never leaving yours. "No," he said softly, his voice tinged with honesty. "No, we can't go back to what we were before. We have changed, and so has our relationship. But that doesn't mean we can't build something new, something stronger... something better."

Tears welled up in your eyes, his words both soothing and aggravating. You hated how he could still make you feel so vulnerable, so weak in his presence. "I don't know if I can do this, Sunghoon," you whispered, your voice trembling. "I don't know if I can risk getting hurt again."

Sunghoon's expression softened, a mixture of pain and understanding etched across his features. "I know, y/n," he said softly, his voice tinged with remorse. "I don't blame you for being afraid.

I don't blame you for doubting me, after everything I put you through. But I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere. I've learned from my mistakes, and I'm determined to prove that I've changed."

He closed the distance between you, his forehead gently pressing against yours as he murmured, "Let me show you, y/n, let me take care of you right now.." The tenderness in his tone made your heart ache, his fingers gently wiping away the tears that streamed down your face.

Your breath hitched at his touch, the warmth of his forehead against yours both comforting and overwhelming. Your body trembled slightly, the walls you had built around yourself crumbling, as he gently wiped away your tears.

You wanted to resist, to push him away and protect yourself from being hurt again, but the vulnerability in his eyes tugged at something deep within you. "How?" You found yourself whispering, a combination of fear and hope lacing your voice.

Sunghoon's gaze softened, a mixture of vulnerability and desire visible in his eyes. He reached out, his hand gently cupping your face, the gesture sending a wave of warmth through your body. "Let me show you," he murmured, his voice laced with yearning. Without breaking eye contact, he slowly leaned in, his lips softly brushing against yours in a tender kiss.

The touch was like a spark that ignited something deep inside, the weight of their shared history and the lingering chemistry between them undeniable.

As he deepened the kiss, his hand sliding to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, the world seemed to fade into the background. Your heart pounded in your chest, the intensity of the moment overwhelming as your bodies pressed against each other.

Sunghoon's touch trailed down your body, igniting a fire within you that was both familiar and foreign. The kiss continued, a mixture of longing and desperation fueling the connection between them.

His voice trembled with a hint of frustration as he confessed, "I missed your scent so much, y/n, it's infuriating..." His words carried a raw honesty, as if the absence of your presence had deeply affected him.

Your breath caught in your throat, his confession sending a shiver down your spine. The vulnerability in his voice stirred something within you, a pang of sadness mixed with an undeniable connection. "You did?" You whispered, your voice trembling with a mixture of surprise and longing.

He pulled back slightly, his fingers gently tracing your jawline as he met your gaze, his eyes filled with sincerity. "I missed everything about you," he admitted, his voice tinged with a hint of urgency.

"Your laugh, your smile, the way you would bite your lip when you were concentrating, your gentle touch, the way you fit so perfectly into my arms..."

Sunghoon's eyes darkened with desire as he leaned in again, his lips seeking yours in a passionate kiss. His hands slowly began to wander, exploring your body with a fervor that sent electricity through your veins. Without breaking the kiss, his hands slid under your shirt, his touch warm against your skin as he began to gently tug at the fabric, his intention clear.

As the kiss deepened, his hands continued to work, carefully undressing you with an urgency that mirrored the urgency of his feelings. Each piece of clothing fell away, leaving you both vulnerable and exposed yet completely lost in each other.

As the kiss continued, your hands sought him of their own accord, fingers tugging at the hem of his shirt, your desire to feel his skin against yours overwhelming any lingering reservations. Your touch was both demanding and possessive, a silent plea for the physical contact you had been deprived of for so long.

He briefly broke the kiss, his lips curving into a small smirk as he felt your hands tugging at his shirt. "Oh? Is someone eager?" he murmured playfully, the hint of teasing in his voice heightening your anticipation as his gaze met yours, a mixture of desire and challenge.

Heat rushed to your cheeks, your eyes meeting his with a mix of impatience and surrender. "Shut up," you retorted, your voice a mixture of embarrassment and desire. "Just take it off already…want it off Hoon.”

A low growl escaped his throat at your words, his hands immediately moving to comply, his own desire fueled by your eagerness. As his shirt slipped off, the sight of his bare chest sent a thrill coursing through you, your eyes drinking in the contours of his muscles, the familiarity of his body both comforting and exhilarating. He leaned back in, his lips capturing yours in a hungry kiss, your hands eagerly exploring the planes of his back.

Every touch intensified the emotions between you, the familiarity of his body igniting memories that fueled the desire coursing through your veins. Between kisses, he murmured, "I missed how you feel... missed everything about you..." His words, laced with the raw honesty of his feelings, only added fuel to the fire, intensifying the need for more contact. He began kissing down your neck, his hands roaming your body with a possessive touch, as if he were trying to reclaim what he had lost.

As his lips trailed downward, leaving a trail of hot kisses along your skin, your body responded eagerly, arching into him, seeking more of his touch and the physical connection that had been absent for so long. With every kiss and every caress, he seemed to unravel something within you, unearthing emotions and desires that you had tried to bury deep.

His mouth eventually trailed lower, a mix of hunger and reverence in his actions. As he moved lower, his hands slid down your body, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake, his touch both familiar and yet somehow new, igniting a sense of rediscovery between you. He paused briefly, his gaze locking with yours, wordlessly asking for permission and reassurance before continuing his descent.

Your breath hitched in anticipation, your body responding to every touch and movement, the need for him growing with each passing second. Your hands reached out, tangling in his hair as you gave a subtle nod, granting him the permission he sought. The intensity of the moment hung in the air, the bond between you stretched taut, yearning to be broken and rebuilt in the most intimate way.

As he continued his exploration, his hands gently caressed your skin, his fingers tracing patterns of worship that mirrored the thoughts and emotions swirling within him. "You're so beautiful," he whispered, his voice husky with desire. "I missed everything about you, how soft your skin is, how responsive you are to every touch..." His words were a mix of praise and reverence, a fervent prayer of appreciation for the body that had stolen his heart.

As he trailed lower still, his lips finding sensitive spots, he murmured between kisses, "I missed the way you taste... the sounds you make when you're lost in pleasure..." His compliments caressed your ears, igniting a fire within you both, the honesty of his words igniting a spark that only heightened your desire for more.

He took his time, exploring you with a mixture of reverence and urgency, his touches both soothing and exhilarating. His lips continued their journey, leaving a trail of kisses and compliments in their wake, each one a reminder of the depth of his affection. "God, I missed how you fit in my arms," he murmured, his voice cracking ever so slightly, "how your body responds to mine...how perfectly you fit against me."

His hands gripped your hips gently, pulling you closer as he leaned down, his breath warm against your skin. "I'll show you how much I missed everything you have to offer..." he whispered, his voice a mix of need and reverence. As he began to trail kisses lower, he murmured, "Starting with this...if you'll let me."

His touch was gentle, yet firm, a reassurance that he was still there, still wanting and needing you. He paused for a moment, looking up at you, waiting for permission, his eyes filled with a mixture of desire and tenderness. Your breath hitched in anticipation, the need for his touch coursing through you, both comforting and thrilling. With a small nod, you gave your silent assent, your hands instinctively finding their way to his hair, as if to draw him closer, to guide him deeper.

Sunghoon's gaze darkened, his hands moving in a swift, determined motion. In a single, possessive gesture, he reached for the hem of your skirt, pulling it off with a sense of urgency that mirrored the intensity building within him. The sound of it being tossed aside hung in the air, a physical reminder of the boundaries he was breaking, the barriers he was tearing down.

His gaze trailed upwards, taking you in, drinking in every inch of you. You could see the desire and hunger in his eyes, his pupils dilated, his own need mirrored in the way he looked at you, almost possessively. He reached out, fingers gently tracing along your exposed thighs, as if mapping out every curve and line, familiarizing himself all over again.

You could feel the heat of his touch, the way he caressed your thighs with a gentle yet deliberate touch, as if trying to memorize every inch of you all over again. Your breath caught in your throat as you watched him, your own desire mirroring his, your body responding as if it remembered every touch, every moment you had shared.

You bit your lip, silently begging for more, your fingers intertwining in his hair, a silent plea to bring him closer. “P-please Hoon..” you whimpered as you bucked your hips up unintentionally.

He could sense the desperation in your voice, the way your body responded to his touch. "So impatient," he murmured, a hint of teasing lacing his words, as his fingers continued to trace patterns along your thighs. "Don't worry, y/n... I won't make you wait too long..." The tone of his voice sent a shiver down your spine, a mix of playfulness and hunger that only fueled the fire burning within you.

There was a moment of stillness as he paused, his hands still resting on your thighs, as if savoring the anticipation that hung in the air. Then, without warning, he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your skin, sending a shiver of anticipation through you.

The moment came. His lips brushed against you, the sensation sending a rush of desire through your veins. You gasped, the heat of his breath against your skin, his hands firm against your thighs, holding you steady. And then he began, his tongue exploring you with a mix of familiarity and reverence.

Each touch was deliberate, as if he was trying to memorize the taste, the texture, the feel of you all over again. Words were lost now, replaced by the sounds of desire and satisfaction that filled the air as he continued, his every movement driving you higher and higher, your senses fully consumed.

Your mouth dropped open as he starts flicking his tongue everywhere, his hands keeping your thighs from closing. Tugging on his hair, you buck your hips up into his face again. “Hoon…Oh god..”

Sunghoon continued to explore you with a fervor that only grew with your every response. He could feel the grip of your fingers in his hair, the way your hips bucked up against him. The sounds of your pleasure only fueled his own desire, his hold on your thighs firm, keeping you right where he wanted you.

At your words, a low groan escaped his throat, sending a new wave of sensation through you, the feeling of his lips and tongue, the vibration from his voice, all mingling and building the blissful tension within you.

You couldn't resist, your body reacting like it had countless times before. Your hips bucked again, your fingers digging into his scalp, the need for release overwhelming. "More…Please…" You pleaded, your voice desperate and pleading.

You could feel him respond, his tongue working harder, more urgent, driving you closer to the edge, each second bringing you closer to the release you so badly needed. “Hoon.. I’m so close..!”

You could feel him respond, his lips and tongue matching your pace, eager to bring you to release, his hands holding you tight, keeping your body where he wanted you. His eyes met yours, a silent promise that he would not stop until he had given you everything you needed. The intensity in his gaze only fueled your desire, your body on the verge of crumbling as he continued to drive you closer to the edge.

His movements were relentless, his tongue flicking in all the right places, hitting the spots that made you moan and gasp, causing you to tug desperately at his hair. Your words came more urgently now, almost a plea, as you teetered on the edge of release. "Hoon..I need you..please..!"

Sunghoon could hear the plea in your voice, the way your body reacted to his every touch, and he knew you were close, right on the precipice of release. There was a moment of pause, a brief respite that only heightened the tension between you. His gaze met yours, his eyes dark with desire, silently asking permission, seeking your consent.

Your eyes pleaded with him, your body trembling with need. "Please, Hoon.." you begged, your voice breathless. He nodded, seemingly understanding your unspoken words. Without breaking eye contact, he leaned in again, redoubling his efforts, his tongue working even harder, faster.

With a possessive grip, he shifted his hands, keeping your hips firmly in place, and as he continued his ministrations with his tongue, he nuzzled his nose into your clit. The added sensation, the feel of his nose alongside his tongue, sent a new wave of pleasure coursing through your core, setting your nerves on fire. The gesture was a claim, a reminder that every part of you was his, and the combination was almost too much to bear.

You could feel the heat building to an almost unbearable level, your body trembling on the brink of release, every fiber of your being focused on the sensations coursing through you. Your grip on his hair became desperate, your nails digging into his scalp as you tugged, as if trying to anchor yourself to the moment. "Hoon…I think I'm gonna...I'm close…" Your words were a plea, a warning that you were on the edge, teetering precariously between ecstasy and release.

He could hear the plea in your voice, the way your body shook beneath his touch, telling him how close you were. Without losing a beat, he doubled down, driving you even closer to the edge, his tongue working faster, harder, with a sense of urgency that mirrored your own.

Your back arched, your hips bucking up into his face, desperate for that final push over the edge. The sensations were too much, overwhelming and all-consuming, and you could feel yourself teetering on the precipice, balancing on the edge of release. You panted, trying to form words, "Please, Hoon…I cumming! Oh fuck—Sunghoon!”

Sunghoon could sense your body reaching its limit, the tension building with every movement, every lick of his tongue. Your body was wound tight, trembling on the precipice. And then, with a final surge, he pushed you over the edge, sending wave after wave of pleasure crashing through you, washing away the remnants of doubt and uncertainty.

Your cries echoed through the room as you cum all over his tongue. He pulled back, out of breath as you could still see your liquids smeared all over his lips. “Taste so good y/n,” he groaned before connecting his lips back onto yours, his bulge pressing against your thigh.

As he kissed you, you could taste yourself on his lips, an intimacy that only heightened the connection between you. The feel of his bulge pressing against your thigh was a reminder of how much he wanted you, of the depth of his desire. You wrapped your legs around his waist, drawing him closer, as if trying to erase any distance between you.

The feeling of you touching him, palming his clothed rock-hard cock, was electric, making his breath hitch, a subtle sign of the effect you had on him. He groaned against your lips, his hips instinctively thrusting his hips against your touch, seeking more, craving the connection with you.

With that, he seemed to snap, his restraint crumbling, losing the will to hold back any longer. Without breaking the kiss, he swiftly lifted you up, carrying you with relative ease, his arms securely around you, as if he was afraid you would slip away from him again. In a few swift steps, he had you pressed against the wall, his body flush against yours, the intensity of the moment threatening to consume you both whole.

With a gasp, you felt the cold wall against your back, the contrast making your skin break out in goosebumps. You wrapped your legs around him Instinctively, seeking to bring him even closer, your body yearning for more, aching for the connection you had been deprived of for so long.

Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, your fingers finding purchase in his shirt, pulling him against you, as if you could never get close enough.

He buried his face in the crook of your neck, breathing ragged puffs of air against your skin, the warmth igniting a fire within you. His hands traced the curve of your hips, fingers gripping you possessively, as if to ground himself in the reality of the moment. With a low growl, he nipped at your neck, a silent promise that he would reclaim every inch of you, make you his again.

You tilted your neck to the side, giving him more access, a silent plea for him to continue, to make his mark on you, to claim you as his own. "Hoon, please…" You murmured, your voice a mix of desperation and need, your nails digging into the firm flesh of his shoulders. He responded with a low growl, his mouth exploring your neck, his teeth scraping against your skin, marking you, claiming you. “I want it..”

You could feel the intensity of his desire, his body pressed against you, the hard length of him pressed against your core, a reminder of how much he wanted, needed you. "Please, I need you…" You pleaded, your voice a mix of need and desire, your fingers tracing the contours of his back, seeking more, begging for the connection that had been absent for so long. In response, he groaned against your neck, his hands gripping your thighs, hoisting you up higher, pressing himself even closer, as if trying to fuse together.

"God, I need you so badly, how can you drive me this crazy," he muttered, his voice husky with arousal, as he continued to mark you, leaving a trail of bruises down the column of your neck, his teeth grazing against your heated skin, making you shiver. "Please, let me, I can't hold back anymore! I need you inside Hoon!”

The desperation in your voice, the way you pleaded for him, only fueled his desire, his need to have you more urgent than ever. "I need to feel you," He muttered into your neck, nibbling slightly at the sensitive skin, the gesture sending a shiver up your spine. "Please, let me show you how much I missed you."

Your body was overwhelmed by the intensity of his touch, every caress igniting a fire within you, making you ache for more. "Yes, yes, please Hoon," you gasped, the need for him almost unbearable, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. With a low growl, he claimed your mouth in a passionate kiss, his tongue seeking entry, seeking to devour you completely.

He kissed you with a fierce hunger, his hands dropping to the waistband of his joggers, fingers hooking into the fabric. In one swift motion, he pushed his pants down, a silent command that spoke volumes about the extent of his desire for you.

Once the clothing was out of the way, he cupped your thighs, his touch possessive, as he pressed the length of himself against your core, his voice a deep rumble in your ear. "Feel that? How much I want you? How much I wanna ruin your tight little pussy?”

"Yes, Hoon, I feel it," you breathed, your voice ragged with need, your body arching into him. "I want it, please..." Your words were a plea, a desperate cry, the need coursing through your veins, making you ache for him in a way you'd never experienced before.

He could feel your desire, the way your body reacted, the ache for him evident in every movement, every gasping breath. With a low groan, he rocked his hips against you, the friction sending a jolt of pleasure through both of you. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, murmuring into your ear, "Tell me again, how much you want it, love…"

Your breath hitched as he rolled his hips against you, the sensation driving you wild. "I want it, Hoon, so badly," you gasped.

He could hear the need in your voice, the way you begged for him, it drove him even more wild. "How badly?" he murmured, his voice a low rumble, his lips brushing against your neck.

Your body responded to his touch, your fingers digging into his shoulders, pulling him closer, desperate for more. "So badly, so badly… please," you pleaded, your voice trembling, your body on fire with need.

With a growl, he gave you what you both needed, his hands gripping your thighs as he entered you with a single, firm thrust. "God, love, you feel so good," he groaned, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he started moving inside of you slowly, his hands trailing all over your body. “So perfect y/n.”

The feeling of him inside you, the sensation that both filled you and left you aching for more, made you cling to him, your fingers digging into his skin, desperate for purchase, as you cried out. "Yes, yes, don't stop, please," you pleaded, your words a mix of need and desire as you pulled on his hair, feeling your tits bounce as he pounded into you relentlessly. “You feel so good Hoon!”

Each movement, each thrust was like a spark, igniting a fire within you, burning away all the memories of the past, the doubts, and the fear. He was all that mattered, and you would have him.

He groaned into your neck, his movements growing more frantic with each passing moment, driven wild by the sound of your voice. "Harder? Is that what you want, love?" he breathed, his fingers gripping your thighs, hoisting them up higher as he continued to pound into you, slapping noises filling the room.

Your grip on his shoulders tightened, your voice breaking as you cried out, "Sunghoon—Sunghoon I’m so close! Please…!”

He could hear the desperation in your voice, could feel the way your body tensed, teetering on the edge of oblivion. "Hold on, love," he murmured, his voice ragged with his own need, "cum for me like a good girl, yeah?”

His words were a command, a plea, a promise, and that was all it took for you to release all over his cock. After one final thrust, you feel him gushing into your core. “Fuck,” he groaned, pulling out to see a mixture of both your liquids spilling out of your cunt.

“S-Sunghoon…” you breathed out, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck. “Wow…”

He held you close, his arms wrapped tightly around you, keeping you close. He didn't speak for a moment, just held you as he slowly caught his breath.

Then, after a few moments, he spoke, his voice a low rumble. "Wow indeed," he murmured, a hint of a smile in his voice, his fingers tracing lightly over your back.

"That was…" he trailed off, his breath still ragged, his body trembling slightly with the aftershocks of pleasure. "I missed you so goddamn much," he admitted, the words heavy and heartfelt.

He held you close for a few more moments before pulling back slightly, his gaze still locked with yours. He brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his touch gentle. "Let's go get cleaned up, alright?" he said softly, his voice still a bit ragged, but with a warmth that made your heart flutter. You nodded, and with that, he guided you towards the bathroom, his hand holding yours tightly, as if he never wanted to let go again.

I love this so much

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