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always-just-red · 2 months ago

Note

Hi!

Can I request a fic where the reader starts realizing they have feelings for Sylus and gets so nervous around him that they can’t resonate anymore?

And Sylus thinks that the reader is scared/disgusted by him again so the reader is forced to confess their feelings to not create a bigger misunderstanding

Thanks!

- 🌻

The moment I got this request I was like HELLO— sunflower anon, you just get me 😌 Anyway! Am back from my break and I hope everyone’s ready for some Vulnerable Sylus™️, because I have got him hot to go!!!

A Gentle Touch

Sylus x Reader 🩸

Summary: You really can’t let Sylus into your head this time— he’s living there rent-free already.

Genre: Angst + Fluff (& some Luke and Kieran shenanigans because they were not feeling the angst)

Warnings/Additional Tags: f!reader, injury detail, mentions of possible trauma, humour, some intimacy at the end 😘, Luke and Kieran are having the time of their lives

| Word count: 3.2k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

If you asked, Sylus would tell you.

You catch glimpses: dark, sharp flickers of something monstrous, maybe even infernal. Blood, everywhere— thick in your mouth and your nose. All over your hands. You feel it, too: a yearning, so intense, and you couldn’t say whom it belongs to. Then there’s death. Searing white. Bottomless black. In the middle of all of it— crimson eyes like dying stars.

Every time you resonate, it envelops you, is laid out bare before you: a nightmare you’re caught in the centre of but forced to watch from outside. An other, a spectator. It’s a show, just for you, but it isn’t quite ready yet; someone’s still rehearsing their lines.

If you asked, Sylus would let you see it. It’s a power you have over him, a constant, self-sacrificial: you want it? It’s yours. So you don’t ask. You never ask. Like words mumbled in a haze of wine or sleep, you let him hold onto it. His hands are open, yes, but you don’t have to take.

Besides, you have your own, world-changing little secret, and he’s going to see it too.

He’s slumped in front of you, blood sheeting down from two bullet wounds just below his shoulder. He catches his breath— one, two— before he peeks over this desk you’ve overturned for cover. You should be peeking over as well: should be counting your enemies, scouting your next move.

Instead, you’re looking at him and holding back. One minute ago you had no idea where he was, how he was, and it’d been eating away at you from the moment you got separated. Now he’s with you— he found you— and the relief is desperate, gushing; it has to escape somehow. It drips: forbidden daydreams, one after the other, like…

How you want to hold his face and urge him to speak so you can just hear his voice.

How you want to press a hand to his heart and feel the beat of it beneath your palm.

How you want to kiss him, want to taste the blood on his split lip, because this is your story, isn’t it? Messy. Violent. Defiant.

He looks at you, that same blood carving a thin line through the pale of his chin. It drops down onto his silk shirt. “What are you thinking about, kitten?” he grins. His best guess: “This is a fine mess we’ve gotten ourselves into, hmm?”

It’s a fine mess he got you into. “Yeah.” You make yourself look away from him, glancing over the desk to assess how much worse the situation is getting. The answer? Significantly.

Sylus chuckles, drawing your eyes back as he reloads his gun. “Don’t say I never treat you to anything, sweetie.” He fires a few rounds towards the encroaching danger.

Voices go up across the room. Gunshots ring out, louder. Sylus slinks back down, wincing, holding his shoulder, and his fingers turn red. He deftly undoes the first few buttons on his shirt, peeling it back so he can examine his wounds. His jaw clenches; the punctures aren’t closing over fast enough. It’s too much blood, too quick, and he’ll—

He catches you staring. There’s a sheepish sincerity in the way he smiles, as honest and vulnerable as the holes in his shoulder. He holds out his hand. “Time for an energy storm, don’t you think?”

“No,” you snap. “Save your energy. We might need it later.”

“Oh?” An eyebrow perks up in interest, and it’s just like him to spot a double entendre in the midst of all this chaos.

But you’re staring at his chest through his open shirt and you’re such a hypocrite. “Things might get worse,” you explain.

“Worse?” he repeats as bullets fly over your heads, striking the wall across from you and scattering plaster over the floor. He watches it crumble. “Paint me a picture, kitten— what would worse look like?”

Even Rafayel might struggle with that particular creative prompt.

“Come on,” Sylus insists, using the excuse of your silence to push his hand closer to you. “Now’s not the time to play coy.”

“Sylus, I really don’t—”

He grasps your hand, his fingers locking with yours and squeezing tight. Your heart jumps at the touch. It strangles the protests in your throat and stays there, strung up by anticipation and dread.

You’re feeling so much that it takes you too long to realise nothing is happening.

Sylus’s eyes are fixed on your connected palms. He’s squinting, concentrating, and when that doesn’t work— when your hand is paling in the vice of his— he loosens his grip, his thumb feathering over yours as he mumbles a quick: “forgive me.”

He doesn’t let you go. You can still feel him, all of him, imploring to just let him in.

You don’t, and his eyes meet yours, for a moment— like another bullet has bitten through his flesh. Your mouth drops in fake surprise; you’re always so innocent when you pull a trigger on him.

This time, there’s no wound you can push your hands against in a guilty effort to staunch the bleeding. You have to apologise. Have to stitch it up with every word you’ve been guarding, saving, and it isn’t supposed to be like this. “Sylus, it’s not what you think. I—”

Something metal clatters across the floor behind you, bounces like a failing, stuttering heartbeat, then explodes.

…

“Good news, boss! We figured it out!”

Sylus groans, looking up from a report he’s not really been reading as two figures crash into his room. Not good, he thinks, as Kieran flings himself into the nearest armchair. Whatever this is, it’s not good. Luke settles on its arm.

With a sigh, Sylus removes his reading glasses. They stay, hooked on a finger, as he pushes his hair back like he can feel a headache coming on. His eyes flutter closed, and when they open, the twins are both leaning forward, bristling with excitement.

“Ask us,” Luke whispers in a way that makes Sylus think he might not realise he’s speaking out loud.

Another sigh. “What did you figure out?”

Kieran whips out a tired-looking notepad from behind his back. He clears his throat— “ahem!”— then starts to read: “Reasons why Miss Hunter was not able to resonate with you. Number one...”

“How did you find out about—”

“Sshhhh,” Kieran interrupts, putting a finger to where his lips should be. Sylus’s eyes widen in indignation, and Luke comes to his twin’s rescue, silently indicating Mephisto with a few tips of his head. The crow shrinks down on his perch.

“Number one,” Kieran repeats, matter-of-factly. “Your height.”

“My… height?”

Luke nods solemnly as Kieran continues: “humanityandconquer.com/power-dynamics describes tallness as a ‘natural advantage when trying to dominate a smaller individual.’ You are very tall. Try crouching when you speak to Miss Hunter.” He glances over the top of his notepad. “If you approach her at her level, she’ll know you mean no—”

“Nope. Next,” Sylus dismisses, waving his hand in a fast-forward motion. That headache is coming on.

“Reason two,” Kieran acquiesces, gaze falling, “your eyes.”

“Oh, for gods’ sake—”

“They’re red,” the twin pushes on, “and red means danger. In fiction, red eyes are symony—” he stops, spells it out— “synonymous with the supernatural. Vampires especially. Plus, lots of bad stuff is red.” He’s going off-script. “Blood. Fire. Sunburns.”

“Sunburns are pink,” Luke muses.

“No, like, bad sunburns, y’know?”

“Oh right, yeah.” There’s a shrug of agreement.

Sylus’s will to live is hanging by a thread, and they really don’t have a care in the world, do they? It must be nice. “Thank you,” he murmurs, “for your little investigation. If that’s all, I would—”

“Reason three!” Luke chirps, wiggling the same number of fingers, and Sylus’s head lolls back against the sofa.

“Miss Hunter is struggling to separate this version of you from your first impression,” Kieran says.

Sylus looks up. “What?”

Luke is rubbing his hands together eagerly, like they’ve finally gotten to the good stuff. “Well, you remember how you and Miss Hunter met,” his twin explains.

Words won’t do it justice, apparently, because the man begins to act it out. He reaches to grip Luke by the throat and Luke pretends to choke, fingers clawing at the grasp. Then Kieran stands up— throws Luke down into the chair and pins him there with his foot before snatching up his hand.

“See what I mean?” Kieran asks over his shoulder. “I mean, it must have been pretty traumatic. You kinda tore her away from everything she knew. Forced her to use her power, et cetera, et cetera.”

Sylus has gone quiet. He’s vaguely aware that the twins are moving, saying more, but he can’t hear it. He feels sick. Then he feels something different: someone poking at his arm. A hand is waved in front of his face, but he doesn’t react.

“Oh, we so got it,” Luke whispers conspiratorially behind him.

“Hell yeah we did!” Kieran whispers back.

There’s the sound of them high-fiving, and it spurs Sylus into action. He’s up out of his seat, out of their shadows, and then the door as well— long before they can stop him. He needs to breathe. He needs the cold night air and the quiet, and his strides drive him towards it, but not fast enough.

He’s about to use his Evol. To let himself evaporate so he can be whole again somewhere else, somewhere easier, but then he stops. He’s by an open door, glancing in at a decadent living room, where you’re sprawled over a black leather couch. This isn’t easier. This hurts, and it hurts more as he forces himself to close the distance between you.

You’re still asleep. You’ve been unconscious ever since that grenade went off, and it’s for the best, really; getting out of that place was… messy. Sylus’s shoulder still aches, the blood on his shirt now crusty and dark. Some of it’s his. Some of it’s yours.

He’s not sure why he’s still wearing it.

The twins did a pretty good job of patching you up, but— looking over you— he would have done better. It was his role, after all. His duty to you, or maybe just a reason to get close to you. He couldn’t do it today. Couldn’t touch you, no matter how noble the intention. And a little part of him was glad for the excuse; his hands always shake.

A blanket is half on your legs, half on the floor, and Sylus stoops to collect the edge of it. He draws it over your shoulder, adjusting it around your arms— at rest by your face. He’s close, now, and he…

He can’t help himself. When has he ever been able to help himself? He lifts his hand slowly; he wants to kiss you. Even though your blood is still drying on his shirt and it’s all his fault.

…

Someone’s hand is on your face.

The touch draws you back into consciousness, tender, careful, then suddenly sharp. “Ah,” you hiss. “Sylus?” Always first on your mind and your lips.

“Not even close,” quips the shadow above you.

“Kieran?”

“Bingo.”

You use your hand to block some of the room’s light as you open your eyes— a birdlike silhouette taking shape through the gaps in your fingers. “Where’s Sylus?” you ask, teeth clenching as the twin applies a thin strip of surgical tape to a cut on your cheek. “Is he ok?”

“Sheesh, relax. He’s fine,” Kieran tuts, then seems to reconsider, “well…”

“He’s brooding,” chimes a voice from behind you. “Out on the balcony.” Luke.

You rub at your eyes, still drowsy with sleep. “Why’s he brooding? What did you do?”

“Told him he traumatised you,” they speak in unison.

“What?! Why would you say something like that?”

“Because it’s true,” Kieran shrugs. “That’s why you and boss couldn’t, you know…” He twinkles his fingers.

Resonate? Ugh. You slide your feet onto the floor, sitting up straight for a solid second before you bury your face in your hands, omitting a few, pained whines. This is such a mess, and it only got worse while you were asleep. First that stupid grenade, now the twins.

A hand pats at your back. “There, there,” Luke soothes.

You turn to glare at him. His hand retreats.

Forget it; you have to find Sylus.

…

You step out onto the balcony, head full of apologies you’ve had all of a minute to prepare, and it isn’t enough. It felt fitting, in the middle of a shootout— everything was allowed to be frantic and from the heart. Here it’s calm, and if you ruin something— break anything— it’s going to be obvious. There’s no other violence to blame.

Sylus must hear you join him, but he doesn’t turn. He’s leant forwards against the rail, one arm folded upon it, the other outstretched: sporting a glass of liquor that hangs from the tips of his fingers and that he swirls gently, his gaze far away.

The twins really weren’t kidding.

��Hey,” you greet, and it’s sort of pathetic, but you don’t know what else to say.

“Hey,” Sylus returns, “are you—” he looks back at you over his shoulder— “are you alright?”

“Yeah,” you smile warmly. “I mean, the twins are giving me a headache, but that’s, like, standard.”

He smiles back: a courtesy. You’ve seen him grin through almost every type of pain imaginable, but this one is new. Think about what Luke and Kieran said. What he must be thinking. “Sylus, I—”

“You don’t have to explain,” he stops you, turning his body towards you. “Honestly, I’d… rather you didn’t.”

“Why?”

“Why?” he chuckles, masking a deeper hurt as he lifts his glass to his lips. “You’re really going to make me say it?”

You are; you hold his gaze as he takes a deliberately slow sip of his drink. He smirks, surrenders at once and admits: “I’m really not that strong, sweetie. That’s why.”

“What if I want to explain?”

The smirk falters, and his eyes make their own, sad, silent confession. If you want to explain? He’ll let you. He’ll stand here, listening patiently while you call him a thing of nightmares. While you break him, bit by tortuous bit, by reminding him just how frightening he is.

He turns back to the view, shrugs, but none of the tension leaves his shoulders. “Go on, then.”

“Sylus?”

“Mmm?”

“You don’t scare me, you know.”

His hand tightens around his glass. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Pity me,” he grimaces. “I don’t need it. I know what I am. I’d just… forgotten what I was to you.”

Your captor. Your monster. Except that was a lifetime ago and he’s been so many more things to you since then. Tell him. “Sylus…”

“I felt it,” he snaps, because your voice is still so reluctant, and he’s going to save you the trouble. “When we tried to resonate, I felt it— your fear— just as deep as it used to be. I heard that same voice in your head, the one saying you wouldn’t let me in, couldn’t let me in, so don’t tell me I don’t scare you, sweetie.” The term of endearment tastes sour, you can tell. “I know how you feel. I know—”

“I like you, Sylus.”

“…What?”

You couldn’t take it anymore. “I like you,” you say again, and your heart is beating too quickly for eloquence, so you just have simplicity. “You don’t scare me at all, Sy. I care about you. A lot.”

Sylus stares at you, his eyes wide. There’s no confidence. No smile or drawn-out breath of relief. He sets his glass aside on the railing, gaze leaving yours for a moment, and you get the feeling he needs that moment as much as he needed the drink itself.

Then he looks at you again. Asks in a way that makes you ache: “do you mean it?”

Look at him. Your throat stings. “Of course I mean it.”

“Say it again.”

“I mean it, Sylus. I care about—”

His lips are on yours and the rest of your words are lost in his mouth. You, you say with the way you kiss him back, soft and slow, like you’re relishing something that might slip away. You, you insist— your hand finding his face, his hair, as he kisses you deeper, and you, you, you, when he doesn’t stop.

“Is this alright?” he murmurs, his fingers around your chin and his thumb tugging at your bottom lip.

“Mmm,” you confirm, equally breathless.

He laughs as he withdraws a little, still caressing your face like you’re something of a dream. “You’re not making this easy, kitten.”

“Worried you might traumatise me again?”

It's a low blow. He scoffs. “Luke and Kieran said—”

“Luke and Kieran once bought arts-and-crafts feathers for Mephisto because they thought the colours would make him, and I quote: more aerodynamic.” You pinch his ear playfully. “I can’t believe you let them get to you.”

“I know,” he groans, lifting your hand so he can press chaste kisses along the line of your knuckles. “Not my finest moment.” He guides your palm to his cheek— leans into it as he leans into an idea. “They said you hated my eyes,” he pouts.

You can’t help giggling. He frowns. “I mean— aww, no,” you scramble, but you’re still laughing. You can’t stop. “Your eyes are… yeah. So pretty.”

“You had to think about it?”

“There were just too many adjectives, y’know? I was struggling to—”

He kisses you again, saving you: crushing your laughter with his own, lightheaded smile. His hand finds yours as his lips move against you, your fingers interlocking as you resonate— chasing an instinct, a need to be impossibly closer— and you let him see everything. Feel everything.

It’s a mad tangle of opposites. Heaven. Hell. Life. Death. You don’t know what any of it means, but it’s yours and it’s his and it doesn’t scare you half as much as it should. Sylus breaks your kiss. He pushes his forehead against your own with a sigh of contentment, and it doesn’t scare him, either.

Savour each second. Think of some better adjectives, while you still have the time.

He’s going to earn every single one.

…

✨Epilogue✨

Inside, staring out through the floor-to-ceiling windows that separate the room from the balcony, Luke and Kieran stand, looking awfully smug.

“Mission accomplished,” Kieran nods, flipping closed his notepad, aptly titled: 101 Ways To Get Boss Laid! (There are only, currently, fifty-two.)

Luke’s arms are folded. “We’re like, the best wingmen ever.”

Kieran is silent. He repeats carefully: “Wingmen. Wingmen.”

The beaks of the crow masks gradually turn to face one-another. There’s a mutual epiphany, and both twins almost fall over laughing.

#🖋rach is actually writing #🌻 anon #sylus x reader #sylus #love and deepspace #lads sylus #lnds sylus #l&ds sylus #qin che #sylus x mc #sylus x you #lads x reader #lads #lnds #l&ds

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himasgod · 12 days ago

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Wanderer x Cheerful! Reader Headcanons

Where you are traveling companions, and he is gentle with you while you are hyperactive and cheerful.

A series of headcanons based on the relationship you would have with Wanderer if you were a bit clumsy, but very happy and hyperactive. It contains a NSFW section and each headcanon section has sample dialogue.

While you talk non-stop about seemingly trivial things, the Wanderer stays silent, listening to you with a mix of exasperation and fascination. Although he pretends not to pay attention, he can remember every detail of your stories.

"And then the cat jumped off the roof and landed right in my arms! Isn't that amazing?"

"More amazing would be if you stopped risking your life for stray animals."

"I wasn't risking my life! I just wanted to help him."

"Of course, because you're the heroine of all the cats in trouble."

He acts like he’s annoyed by it, always having sarcastic comments ready to respond to your quips, but he actually loves seeing you cheer up. Your laughter is a sound he’s learned to value.

"Look! I bought this ribbon for my hair. Don't you think it looks pretty?"

"I don't know what's worse, the ribbon or the amount of time you spent picking it out."

"You're so insensitive! I'm not asking you anything again."

"It suits you, by the way."

Your energy often brings him out of his state of alienation. Although he finds it hard to admit it, being with you makes him feel more connected to the world.

At first, the Wanderer finds it difficult to fully trust you. His fear of being betrayed makes him keep an emotional distance, but your warmth and patience manage to break down his barriers little by little.

"Why do you always act like you're waiting for me to betray you?"

"Because betrayal is the only constant thing I've ever known."

"I'm not like everyone else ."

"That's what everyone says."

When he feels overwhelmed by his past or his internal struggles, it is with you that he finally allows himself to be vulnerable.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No. Just… stay here."

"I'm always here."

"I don't know why you trust me so much, but… thank you."

Sometimes you stay silent, resting your head on his shoulder as he closes his eyes and strokes your hair gently.

He loves to make you blush, Wanderer enjoys seeing you embarrassed too much. It can be as simple as getting too close to you or murmuring something in your ear with his low, soft voice.

"Did you know that you look cute when you're focused?"

"What are you saying?! Don't just say things like that all of a sudden!."

"What's wrong? Can't you handle a simple compliment?"

Your reactions are his weakness, even though he constantly annoys you, if someone else tries to make you uncomfortable, his protective side comes out. No one can bother you except him.

"What's someone like you doing traveling with him? You're probably more of a bother than a help."

"Say it again and make sure you have somewhere to hide afterward."

"Wanderer! It's not that big of a deal…"

"I don't care what they think of me, but no one has the right to talk to you like that"

Although he is not the type to openly express affection, his subtle gestures speak for themselves. He places his large hat on your head when the sun is shining hard. He makes sure you always have enough water or food during your travels.

If you're hurt or tired, he stops immediately, even if he pretends it's for practical reasons.

"It's so hot here! The sun is burning my head!"

"I'll give you my hat. Stop complaining and keep walking."

"Thanks… but you could say it nicer, you know?"

"That would be unrealistic."

His touches are slow and deliberate, as if he's afraid of breaking something fragile. He prefers quiet moments where he can hold your hand or play with a lock of your hair while you talk.

"Why do you always look at me like that when I'm talking?"

"Because you make those weird hand gestures. It's… entertaining."

"I don't make them weird!"

"Of course not"

Your joy brightens his darkness, your optimism helps him see the world from a more positive perspective. Although he doesn't say it out loud, he realizes that you're a constant light in his life.

"Isn't the sunset beautiful? It's like the sky was hand-painted."

"It's just light refracted off water particles."

"You're so boring! Just admit it, you like it too."

"Maybe a little"

His calmness balances your energy, when you're too excited or anxious, his soft voice and serene presence help to reassure you. Sometimes it's enough for him to take your hand and say, “Breathe. I'm here.”

"Let's go explore that forest! What could go wrong?"

"A lot of things. Starting with your tendency to run without thinking."

"But you would protect me, wouldn't you?"

"That doesn't mean you should purposely put yourself in danger."

Although you're opposites in many ways, you both find something unique in each other that makes you feel complete. To you, he's a safe haven; to him, you're the spark that keeps his soul moving.

Sometimes you argue over silly things, like who's right about a road or how to cook something. It always ends with him winning with his logic and you throwing a pillow or an indignant look at him.

"I told you this was the right path."

"And I told you maps don't lie."

“Then the map is wrong!”

“Or your sense of direction sucks.”

He likes to give you nicknames that annoy you but that you find strangely cute.

“That silly smile again? I should call you ‘Little Sunshine.’”

“That's not a nickname! And I don't have a silly smile.”

Even though it's rare, there are times when your clumsiness or your witticisms make him genuinely laugh. When you listen to him, you can't help but stay silent, admiring how beautiful his laugh is.

“I’m fine, don’t worry!”

“You’re a walking disaster.”

“Are you laughing at me?! It’s so weird to see you laugh!”

“Don’t get used to it.”

NSFW.

You notice that something strange is happening when you're talking about anything stupid nonstop and his gaze has a different kind of shine, one that's not curiosity. When you notice that predatory shine and something dark in his eyes, while his pupils descend towards your lips wet from talking so much, you know what he's thinking about instead of paying attention to you.

And so, at the moment when you continue talking, distracted by seeing his eyes like that, you get stuck while speaking and a small smirk covers his lips as he asks you, please, to keep talking.

So, while you are both distracted and trying to continue talking about anything, you notice how his hand absentmindedly travels to your thigh to give it a squeeze.

You're cooked. When Wanderer wants something, he gets it, greetings.

He teases you, whispering in your ear that you dare not continue talking as he begins to lower his lips to your neck.

Likewise, as he fucks you, he murmurs that he would love to see your hyperactive smile that you hide while you bite your lips desperately trying not to moan his name so as not to give him more reasons to tease you.

In truth, he is much softer with you, so those moments are something special. Protect him, he loves you very much, do not hurt him.

Here is my masterlist, in case you are interested in any more of my work or want to send me a request <3

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daisymbin · 2 months ago

Text

have you ever been in love? - choi seungcheol

warnings: none

pairings: choi seungcheol x reader

genre: friends to ???

wc: 900

check out my masterlist! // cheol's m.list

"have you ever been in love?" you ask, your eyes still fixated on the carefree clouds drifting lazily through the night sky, illuminated by the city lights.

seungcheol chuckles softly, the sound getting caught in the cool breeze that surrounds you both. he takes another sip of his beer, masking the way his heart races. how much more obvious could he be? are you really that oblivious?

"i suppose i have," he answers, his voice steady and calm even as his eyes can't help but trace the outline of your face, the way your features soften in the moonlight.

"what's it like?" you turn your head slightly, curiosity written in your expression. he's not sure how he should feel about your question.

seungcheol pauses, thinking about the feeling he’s harbored for you for so long. "it’s... terrifying and exhilarating at the same time," he says, a wistful smile playing at his lips. "it feels like wanting to be someone's everything, wanting to make them smile even when the world feels too heavy for myself. it’s being so scared of losing them that it’s all you think about. but at the same time, it makes everything brighter. love changes the way you see things, you know?"

you take a moment to process his words, letting them sink in, before you say quietly, “i guess..i dont know.”

“have you ever been in love?” he asks carefully, its a past tense question so it shouldnt hurt….right?

"i'm...not sure if i’ve ever been in love before.. but lately, i’ve started feeling things i’ve never felt before, and i wonder if it’s love. that's why im asking you.”

seungcheol’s heart stops, breaking a little at the thought of you loving someone else. his voice comes out smaller, almost vulnerable. "does what you’re feelin…m-match what i said?"

you think for a moment and then nod slowly. "yeah," you admit, a soft blush spreading across your cheeks.

his breath catches & he feels his stomach churning. this isn't a past tense situation, this is present tense, NOW. "who is it?" he asks as his voice trembles. the 4 years he's spent pinning over you seems to have made him timid tonight, he's not usually like this, but still, he braces himself for an answer that he knows will shatter him.

you hesitate, your eyes finding his, sparkling with adoration. "you," you whisper, your voice firm with sincerity.

seungcheol’s eyes widen, and for a moment, the world stills. and then, without thinking, he’s reaching for you, the biggest smile breaking out on his face. "me?" he repeats, as if he can’t quite believe it.

you nod, "you...you like me too right?"

"like?" seungcheol laughs, finding humour in your choice of words, his laugh holds a hint of disbelief, his eyes crinkling with pure joy. "like?" he repeats, his voice still colored with amusement. "i don't just like you," he confesses, his voice growing softer, more sincere. "i've been completely, ridiculously in love with you."

you feel your heart skip a beat, disbelief and hope swirling in your chest. "really?" you whisper, your voice small, almost afraid that this moment could shatter like a delicate glass figurine.

his gaze softens as he reaches for your hand, his warm fingers intertwining with yours. "really," he says, his thumb brushing over your knuckles.

"did you really not notice?" he asks, "i almost started to think you knew but just didnt have the heart to reject me."

your cheeks flushes as you think about all the little moments you'd noticed—the small ways he always seemed to look out for you, the way he'd remember the tiniest details about your life, and how his eyes would light up every time you entered a room. "i just... i always thought it was wishful thinking...like the time you carried extra snacks just because you knew i'd forget to eat, or when you'd always find an excuse to walk me home, even when you lived in the opposite direction. or how you’d get so quiet and protective whenever you thought someone was being unfair to me."

seungcheol's eyes widen with a mix of surprise and endearment, a fond smile spreading across his lips. "so you noticed all that?" he asks, his voice warm with a hint of embarrassment.

"i did," you say, a shy smile tugging at your lips. "but it just seemed too good to be true."

he pulls you a little closer, his eyes searching yours, filled with a mixture of adoration and relief. "it wasn’t too good to be true," he whispers, and then, with the most tender of touches, he leans in.

when his lips meet yours, it's everything and more. it's gentle, sweet, and filled with all the love that has been building between you two, unspoken but always there, waiting for the right moment.

when you finally pull away, you're both breathless, cheeks flushed. seungcheol's smile is still there, brighter than ever.

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heartfullofleeches · 11 months ago

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[18+]

Introducing - Shy Perv/Horny Alien Darling who's happy to be kidnapped by cute little humans if it means they'll get their dick touched.

Bound and chained up in their kidnappers home - Darling has but one question as their obsessive stalker declares their undying love and how darling will never, ever leave their side again-

"s.... since we're dating now....may - can I touch your breasts?"

Alien Darling from a planet where sleeping with another person for pleasure is looked down upon and intimacy is not seen as common . There's hardly any need for it in terms of reproduction either as technology has mostly taken over in the entire process. Needless to say, Darling is blown away when they learn about earth and some of its cultures. They want to go on dates, and hold hands with someone cute, and maybe even kiss them, and- and.... There's just so much for them to do.

Darling ends up on earth one way or another - working their way up to a far enough life as a cashier. Approaching humans in a romantic/sexual tense is a bit difficult when you only have experience from the films you've seen in the short span of time you've known about them. Darling remains alone and finds fulfilment elsewhere on the internet and with human toys they purchase for "research" - How they'd love to be able to use what they've learned with a cute human, but no person in their right mind would want an awkward outcast like them...

Right?

When Darling finally released they're being followed - they come to the conclusion that it has to be some strange human mating ritual. Yan likely discovers the various blogs Darling has made detailing their journey they probably think nobody will read or believe. Regardless of whether darling truly is from other world - it's clear to see how depraved they are. Yan sees that for themselves when they leave a pair of their underwear in darling's bed and instead of questioning where they came from Darling skips an entire day of work just to drool all over them. Darling is too busy fondling Yan's chest to notice anything wrong - like how their boss hasn't called to check up on them in a while.

Oh....That's right - they don't have a phone anymore. Their lover said they didn't need it anymore.... Plus, their boss was found dead in a lake a few weeks ago.

Huh.....How could they forget something like that?

"Would you like me to take my shirt off while you touch me, love?"

"Yes, please!"

Darling feels the need to ask before every kiss. It's cute - until they're drilling their tongue(s) down Yan's throat everytime since they claim Darling can do whatever they desire to them. It's still impossible for them to believe a cute human would want them so badly. Captivity is a small prize to pay to finally act out the fantasies they've had since they've learned of earth and its people.

#yandere #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere scenarios #yandere insert #yandere blurb #yandere oc #tw yandere #alien reader #yandere drabble

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leonsgfpost · 4 months ago

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note: hello, it's me again! This is the second part of my first post (you can find it on my profile). I'm sorry if this is too long or I made a mistake, I just lost my mind for Leon, you know? 🎀

tags: Leon RE2 x f!reader, smut, unprotected sex (please don't do it), creampie, oral (famele receiving), masturbation and more!

Weeks went by and he finally did it, it was the most embarrassing moment of his life.

He had approached with two coffees in his hands and a packet of those sweets he saw you eat at every break. Because yes, he was very attentive. You like the pastries bought at the bakery down the street and the coffee you usually drink bitter to counteract the sweetness of the pastry. After making an effort and putting the most awkward smile on his face, he got up the courage to ask you if you wanted to hang out. And lucky for him, you accepted. That day of the date, he arrived an hour early, and had jotted down some questions on a crumpled piece of paper now inside his jacket. And just as he expected, you arrived with the cutest outfit he had ever seen. He knew you were the best, always wearing nice clothes that brought out all your features in just the right way. He felt like a fool for only wearing one of his blue shirts and the best pants he had found in his closet. But it had been a wonderful afternoon, he took you to a nice restaurant, moved the chair for you and paid the bills despite your complaints. Then, when the sun was going down he walked you home and you kissed his cheek so sweetly that he stood for ten minutes outside your door even after you closed it.

That night he couldn't sleep, because he realized that he really liked you, that you could stop his heart completely and not just his dick.

The two of you started to frequent each other more, started flirting at work, complicit glances and sloppy kisses in the lonely corners of the station. He didn't want to be a hormonal jerk, but the feeling of your mouth and tongue sliding past his lips fucked his brain. You were so pretty, so perfect that he had to have you, soul and body. He was determined to win you over. And so he was the most detail-oriented guy you ever met, bringing you nice flowers, chocolates, leaving you a coffee every morning on your desk and leaving you cute notes against it.

In no time you fell for it, because let's be honest, no one could resist.

The relationship was formalized, and you swore you never saw such a cute smile on someone's face after giving he a big "Yes." to his proposal. Leon felt like the luckiest guy on the planet, he had a cute, funny girl whom he loved madly because it didn't take you long to get into his heart. You came into his arms as if it was where you belonged, because it was, you belonged in his arms. Just like now, you're buried comfortably in his embrace and the television had been forgotten, you were both too busy devouring each other's mouths.

Leon's hands held each side of your cheeks, drawing your face towards him so he could keep pushing his lips against yours eagerly. It was a simple wet kiss, and he was already dripping inside his pants. And with every sweet sound that came from your lips, his mind was spinning. He wanted to put his hands on you, he wanted to bend your body and pin you so much against the couch that it was getting absolutely silly.

But he didn't want to push you, what if you felt obligated? What if you thought he was just a pervert? What if-

All those doubts were gone as quickly as they came as he felt you climb onto his lap, your arms around his neck and his hands instinctively squeezed your soft hips, pushing you down eagerly. He let out a deep moan as your fingers tugged his hair a little, pulling it away from your lips and he instinctively chased after you again. You had to hold back a laugh at how fucked up he looked from a simple wet kiss, how you could feel him so hard beneath you.

"Hey, Leon. Do you want to... Do you want to continue?" you ask sweetly, moving those pretty eyes of yours to his blue eyes that seemed to want to devour you completely. Before you could think anything else, he was already nodding eagerly.

"Yes, yes... Please." He murmured, his voice was hoarse and came out along with his heavy breaths. He cupped your face, pulling you into him. His lips moving hard against yours, the sloppy sound of the kiss echoing in his small living room. His hands moved down from your face to the sides of your shirt, pulling it up and he pulled away from your lips to lower his gaze to your chest. His breath caught in his throat, moving his hands to the clasps of your bra.

"Can I?" he asked looking at you, as if he wouldn't need to choke on your tits. After all, he was a gentleman.

And when you barely mumbled a small "yes" he removed the garment as if it had somehow insulted him. Your tits fell freely in front of his eyes and he swore that here he belonged. His mouth quickly catching one of your breasts, sucking like a hungry man. As he felt your fingers tugging at his hair and your moans echoing in the room, he had to restrain himself from rolling his eyes. He could cum from just sucking on your pretty tits.

For lack of air, he pulled away from your nipple watching with fascination the red mark left on your tender flesh. His eyes lifted to yours to push his mouth against yours again, one hand on your cheek and the other holding your hip.

"Lift your hips." He said between kisses, smiling as he felt you obediently follow his request. His hand moved to cup your pussy above your pants, feeling the wetness and heat radiating from your center. And as much as he wanted to bury his face between your legs, he wasn't sure how long he could hold back and not cum intact in his pants. He began to massage your center gently before he began to stroke you harder, his fingers searching for your clit above your clothes. When he decided you were both eager enough, he began to unzip your shorts. His heart (cock) was about to burst with joy as he saw more of your panties exposed to his hungry eyes. It didn't take him too long to slide your shorts down your luxurious thighs, gasping at the sight of the dark stain on your underwear.

"Babe-" You moaned almost shyly as you watched his eyes not move from between your legs. His eyes lifted to look at you again, letting out a low moan as he impacted your mouth. His hands gripped your hips, moving you as if you weighed nothing to place you on the couch.

"You're so cute like this..." He murmured, looking at you as if you were the brightest star to come down from the sky just for him.

"You're the prettiest girl I've ever seen." His voice sounded genuine, mesmerized by the sight of you lying beneath him as he had so often fantasized. So ready, so willing for him. His lips moving down to your neck, beginning to kiss the full expanse of your skin. His hands beginning to impatiently pull down his own pants and boxers, letting out a sigh as the cool air made contact with his raging erection. One of his hands reached down to slip inside your underwear, feeling like he was going to faint when his fingers made contact with your wet folds.

Were you that wet for him? Did he turn you on as much as you turned him on? This was paradise, paradise was between your legs and he was ready to drown himself in it. It didn't take him long to plunge a finger inside you, feeling your walls sucking him hard. He was letting out more moan than you, simply by touching you like this.

"Leon, I want you... I want you, please-" You asked more impatiently, grabbing his hand for him to finally give you his nice cock that you could see it quivering between his legs with excitement.

"I know, I know. I got you, pretty girl." He whispered against your skin, increasing the rhythm of his fingers and with his palm he pressed your clit in a way that made your legs tremble around his hand. When he decided he could take no more, he pulled down your underwear completely, fixing his eyes on your drooling center in a lewd way. For him.

His hands spread your thighs, trying to look away from your pussy, to look at your face, but damn, he was mesmerized. He really wanted this to have been something more romantic, maybe some wine and candles but all those thoughts vanished as he pressed his tip against you. His chest rose and fell, massaging your thighs with his gaze fixed on how the head of his dick was lost from his sight as it entered your warmth. His gaze lifted for the first time to see the expression that crossed your face as he began to fuck you with just his tip.

"D-Do you want more? Does it feel good, huh?" he asked awkwardly, because he's never been good at this 'dirty talk stuff', but he was trying for you. His face was red, slowly moving his hips and his thumb moving up to caress your clit.

"Leon, Come on-" You moaned impatiently in the sweetest way, lifting your hips to try to take him deeper. Your walls were sucking him hard, and he was weak so he started thrusting harder and harder, giving you time to get used to it. He took a shuddering breath, lifting one of your thighs so he could go deep and his head rolled back with ecstasy.

He was not going to last.

He wanted to go slow, to make love to you but quickly found himself fucking you like a repressed man. And his expression was the cutest, his brows furrowed with pleasure and his pink lips slightly parted. A thin layer of sweat was beginning to cover both of your bodies.

When he opened his eyes to look at you, he cursed under his breath. You looked just as he had imagined you all this time, the hottest expression on your face, your body jerking against the couch and your tits bouncing happily with each thrust. And he closed his eyes again because he felt his abdomen tightening from the familiar sensation of his orgasm building. His thumb started stroking you faster, trying desperately to get an orgasm out of you.

The sound of your skins colliding and your moans echoed off the walls, a sound so wet it was almost sinful. His hips began to move uncoordinated as fast as he felt your walls clenching around him tightly, and he knew it.

"Don't stop, Don't stop." You repeated over and over, your nails scraping the smooth skin of his back with ecstasy at the coil forming in your belly that was ready to explode. His cock was touching all the right spots inside you, his veins rubbing and molding your walls with need.

"I can't, I can't... I'm sorry, baby-" He apologized with a choked sob escaping his lips, as his cock contracted and began to shoot its load inside you. His mind went blank and his arms making an extra effort not to let himself fall on you. His face burned knowing he cum before you.

But his brain was too fucked up as he continued to slowly move his hips against yours. As his mind began to clear, he looked up at you with his eyes cloudy and his bangs sticking to his forehead from sweat.

"Let me, let me make it up to you..." He asked in that pathetic voice of his, getting out of you with his trembling body and moving backwards on the couch. He knelt between your legs, staring at the mess he had made in you. His sticky semen escaping from inside you, staining the couch cushions.

"Leon, Wait-" You murmured, tangling your fingers in his sweaty hair before he plunged his face between the piece of paradise he held for his own blessing. His pretty blue, misty eyes meeting yours, and he let you know he wouldn't let go until you were broken.

Because he was already crazy, there was no turning back from his addiction. Because you were a drug to him and this was just beginning.

Thank u so much for supporting my previous post, I hope this one wasn't too long or boring for you 💕🫶🏻

Remember that you can read the first part on my profile, let me know if you liked this one too.

bye, bye (💌)

#re2 leon #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #resident evil #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy x reader

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viharbinger · 7 months ago

Note

Hi there! Saw your post of Ken Sato request. I was thinking about one I have and I had a OS in mind, a Ken Sato x Fem! Reader with the Bad Boy x Good Girl trope. Similar to Rapunzel and Eugene's relationship. Reader is an amazing artist and such a Sunshine while Ken is the opposite.

It's up to you how you wanna write it. Take your time and no need to rush.

Good Girl's Bad Boy

pairings: Kenji Sato x fem!reader

a/n: I loev him so much help

warnings: erm idk, parents disapproving of Ken lol, this is fluff!!

You and Kenji started dating when you both were in LA and were teenagers. Your parents hated his guts. He was egotistical, had a big bike, got into fights often, he's basically in every parenting 101 on who your kid should not date. Despite your parents disapproval however, it didn't stop you from dating him and they can't pull you away from him anyway. So the only thing your parents can do to protest is roll their eyes at him whenever he picks you up on his bike for dates.

They did not like having him around either, but that also didn't stop him. Up to 12am when you're doing your art assignments, he would often climb up your bedroom window. And get a couple of injuries along the way.

A soft knock was heard at your window. You peer at the window away from your painting, and notice a familiar figure. It was your boyfriend, Ken. Smiling, you move to pull up the window, helping him in so he doesn't trip all over your stuff. "You just don't listen to my parents, do you?" You deadpanned, smirking. "You didn't listen when they told you not to date me." He raised his hands up in defense.

As you were watching him talk, you noticed he had fresh injuries on his cheeks. You furrowed your eyebrows, placing your hands on his cheeks to check for further injuries. "Did you get hurt getting up here? Next time just call me and I'll let you in quietly from the front door." You pouted as he places his own hands above yours. "But then it wouldn't be so thrilling, right?" He raises an eyebrow, grinning.

"You're too much." You walk away to look for your bandaids in the bathroom. Unfortunately all you had were hello kitty bandaids, but that didn't stop you from giving it to him. Placing it onto his face, you can't help but giggle at how cute he looks. "You look so silly." You laugh, covering your mouth with your palm. "What? What did you do?" He furrows his eyebrows, walking to your mirror to look at his face. "Aww, seriously?" He whines, to which you stifle your laugh.

"I think it's adorable. You're adorable." You place a firm kiss to his cheek, his ears warming and turning red from the contact. "I can't let anyone see me in this... I've got a... A reputation to live up to!" He makes up an excuse. "Oh be quiet. It wouldn't kill you to have a hello kitty bandaid. I think it's pretty badass." You reassured him. "Seriously?" He laughs for a moment before flickering his eyes to your art piece.

"What're you working on?" He asks, watching as you move to excitedly show him what you were painting. "It's a cat!" You excitedly show him, it was detailed and coloured halfway, but there were outlines to show what you wanted to paint of course. He chuckles, he loves seeing you gleam when showing your work. "Beautiful artwork, sweetheart." He presses a kiss to your forehead.

Let's not forget he has a bike. A cool one. The first time you rode on it, you were like a scared cat, holding onto his waist tightly. Your parents hated this of course, because they much prefer a well suited man with a car.

Man... You wished Kenji would've shown a little less attitude when talking to other men that showed you even the slightest attention. The amount of fights he's gotten in for you. And the amount of first aid you've had to do for him. And meeting your parents for the first time, he had a bunch of bandaids on his face and arms, looking like a total thug that fights a lot. -10000 points for him. Your parents just want their angel daughter date someone nicer, you know?

Over the years, your parents eventually accepted him because he has been getting a lot of brownie points for being a big baseball star and.... Being considerably rich. Despite your family's disagreements on this, you moved to Japan with him, as well. After taking the most confusing and unbelievable news of him having to take over Ultraman, of course.

I mean, Japan is beautiful. It's a brilliant place to start your art career— that is, what Ken says when he convinces you to move with him. Moving in the same house was one thing, but moving together to a different country was a bigger thing! Hell, you've both done so many things behind your family's back that you just went right with it.

"Oh, what the heck! Let's move to Japan." You agreed to his proposal, to which he smiled brightly, planting a sweet kiss to your lips. You can definitely see the rest of your life in Japan. Cheering for him in the stands, treating his injuries after any kaiju incidents, and morning coffees together before work... What you didn't expect was a giant pink lizard wanting Ken as her daddy.

He was so frustrated of having to take over his father's job, and stressed out, only you could reassure him. He needs a little sun in his cloudy days, AKA you. You're like the soft breeze on a hot day, or the rainbow at the end of the road!

#. bees posts #kenji sato #kenji sato x reader #ken sato x reader #ultraman rising x reader #ultraman rising #ken sato #ken sato x you #kenji sato x you

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sunflowerhyun · 5 months ago

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how he sees me | hwang hyunjin | part two

ᝰ summary: “Do you love me?” she asked.

In his hesitation, she found her answer.

OR, alternatively, Hyunjin is a little bit of an asshole and Y/N just misses him.

ᝰ pairing: hwang hyunjin x fem!reader

ᝰ genre: ex-childhood-friends-to-lovers, punk!hyunjin au

ᝰ warnings: ! MDNI ! cursing, many references to past situations (in italics), alcohol consumption, angst, themes of depression, slight smut (?) consisting of making-out and brief grinding

ᝰ wc: 8k+

ᝰ a/n: it’s 4am and the long awaited part two is finally here!!! this part is a little heavy on y/n’s emotions, and very angst-y (i’m sorry in advance). i hope you all enjoy it just as much as i did writing it ♡

ᝰ reference the masterlist here.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The first time Y/N met Hyunjin was in elementary school and she remembered every detail.

It was at the beginning of their math class, when Y/N was just starting the third grade. She remembers how excited she was to be in a new school, hair up in pig-tails, flower dress on. She was so giddy that she didn’t even mind sitting in the front by herself, happily swinging her feet in her chair as she colored on her notebook before class started. She was so giddy that she didn’t even notice when her teacher, Mrs. Anderson, had walked in with a little boy, standing beside her with his hands clutching his scooby doo lunch box.

He was dressed in a nice blue button up and khakis, cheeks chubby with a slight pinkness to them. His hair was nicely cut and slicked back at the top; he looked like a proper little boy, which is exactly what he was.

Mrs. Anderson started talking, to introduce the new student as Hyunjin from South Korea, and Y/N immediately felt even more giddy.

He had enthusiastically introduced himself and Mrs. Anderson told him to sit wherever he wanted. Y/N pouted slightly at this, knowing he would choose a seat next to someone else, as nobody ever wanted to share a desk with her if they could help it. Her eyes widened slightly whenever he had threw his lunch box on the desk beside hers, and she looked up in surprise, seeing a sly grin take over his lips as he sat down.

“Hi.” He spoke, side-eyeing her as he took out his own notebook and a pencil.

“Hi, Hyunjin. My name is Y/N!” She excitedly grinned, and Hyunjin faced her. He gave her a quick glance from head-to-toe, a grin forming on his lips as he let out a, “Hi, Y/N. You remind me of a flower. Do you like flowers? My favorite ones are roses. My nanny says they are a symbol of love, but I have no idea what that means. Do you like roses, too?”

The talking continued all until lunch, when Hyunjin had sat with her at the lunch table in the cafeteria. He was eating some dumplings, while Y/N was eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. She had asked them if they were good, and he started feeding her bites of his. In return, she halved her sandwich and shared it with him.

In between bites and giggles, Y/N had quickly found out that Hyunjin liked to talk. He talked and he talked until school was dismissed, where he was forced to leave her side for the day.

“We are going to be the best of friends!” Hyunjin had spoke as he stood up after the teachers called out his name, indicating his ride was here to pick him up.

“Pinky promise?” Y/N had asked, holding her pinky up in the air. He giggled at this, not hesitating to wrap his around hers with a, “I pinky promise!”

It’s funny how things turn out, isn’t it?

Pinky promises were just full of shit. Y/N knew that, and yet she still made them anyway. And out of the many that she has made, it only took one broken promise to completely change everything; it only took one broken promise from him to completely change everything.

Y/N had grown up with him, had spent every single second of her free time with him amongst the stars and the skies and whatever else. He was there when she had her first period, standing at her front door with a box of pads and some chocolate milk his nanny had bought for him to give her after she had ignored him for two days and yelled at him for stepping on the back of her shoes at recess. He was there when she had gotten her first job as a waitress at a café up the street, being her first customer and tipping her $50 for a simple cup of coffee and a bagel, just because he knew she was struggling with money. He was there when her grandma had passed away from breast cancer after a long two years of fighting, laying with her for hours in the pitch black dark and silence, holding her while she cried in his chest.

Y/N remembered every detail of their friendship, whether it be the good or the bad, but what she remembered most was the little things that he never saw in himself.

Whenever he smiled, his eyes would form little crescents and his laugh would sound like her favorite song. He always tilted his head back whenever he would laugh at something stupid, and Y/N hated when he did that because everything went dull and dark. But whenever he looked back at her, the light would return as quickly as it faded and the universe would spin again.

Whenever he was anxious about something, his foot would bounce up and down repeatedly. Y/N would always have to put her hand on the top of his thigh to remind him to calm down, and she remembered the look on his face each time. His cheeks would redden slightly, a sheepish smile on his lips, and he would mumble out a soft apology. Everytime she moved her hand away, he would put it back, insisting that the only way he wouldn’t move his foot was if her hand stayed there.

He was the happiest when he was painting. Y/N loved to watch him paint.

He started painting in middle school, when they were both thirteen. He had decided to take art as one of his electives and easily succeeded in it. It came so naturally to him, just as everything did, and Y/N had wished more times than once that she could have that ability to be perfect in every single thing she did.

When he was younger, Hyunjin painted flowers. Roses were his favorites, so naturally, that was what he started with. Y/N remembered watching him paint whenever she came over, laying on his bed with her iPad in front of her while he sat at his desk with a picture of roses pulled up on his laptop. His eyes had a different twinkle in them while he was focused on the colors and the shapes, and his tongue would stick out slightly on the side of his mouth in concentration. She was always so mesmerized by him and would watch him for hours without complaint. The look on his face once he finished always made up for the long wait—the excited glint in his eyes, the higher-pitched voice he had when he turned around to show her, the wide smile that always reached his eyes, the warmth on his cheeks.

He was falling in love with art, while she was falling in love with him.

Coming to that realization as they got older became difficult for Y/N to grasp. In a way, she knew that she had always loved him. The little things that defined him as his own person clouded her mind for years, slipping into her dreams while she yearned for it to become a reality. He was always her Hyunjin, and she was always his Y/N.

And she hated the fact that she was still wanting to believe that.

“You’re not going tomorrow.”

Y/N didn’t move from her current spot in her bed, hidden under the covers, arms wrapped around her body and pulling herself together. Everything was dark, just as she wanted it to be, tears and make-up staining the pillow case she was laying her head on. Felix had finally gotten her out of the bathroom at the club, wrapping her in his arms and leading her outside to Minho’s car without making a scene. Majority of the people there were too preoccupied anyway, much to Y/N’s relief.

Minho had insisted on coming back with them, just to make sure they got home safely, much to Y/N’s protests. She begged for him to stay with his friends and not worry about her, but he wasn’t taking no for an answer. She already felt extremely embarrassed at the fact that she had made a scene outside, in front of Chan and his bandmates, in front of Minho and Felix, in front of Hyunjin.

Her Hyunjin.

“Are you even listening to me? Look, I really hate to be that friend, but you are not going to that festival tomorrow. It’s only going to satisfy him in such a fucked up way that you’re going to be there watching him perform. It’s not good for you. You’re not going.”

“How about you stop bossing her around and let her decide what’s best for herself?” Minho’s voice chimed in.

“No offense, but you don’t know half the shit that asshole has done to her. She needs someone to talk some sense into her because I know she’s going to want to go, and it isn’t going to turn out good.” Felix scoffed out a reply, and Y/N could hear some shuffling as she felt someone sit on the edge of her bed.

“Still, it’s up to her. You shouldn’t be telling her to do something just because you think it would benefit her for the good. People cope in different ways.”

“She had a fucking panic attack from that guy!” Felix exclaimed, the bed shaking a little as he held his hands up in exaggeration. “That should say everything! And even then—“

“I’m not going,” Y/N interrupted him, snuggling deeper into her pillow. Her head was starting to hurt and she couldn’t take the constant bickering back and forth, “I’m not going, okay? Can you please just… stop talking about me like I’m not here?”

It was quiet for a moment, and then she heard a sigh.

The bed moved again, bedsheets rustling, and then she could feel a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry,” Felix spoke, rubbing her shoulder over the comforter, “We didn’t mean to come off that way. Do you need anything?”

“No,” She quickly replied, secretly hoping Felix would get up and leave her alone. She loved him to death, but she just wanted to be alone right now, to wallow in her self-pity a bit longer. It was quiet for another moment, and then she felt the hand on her shoulder trail down to her back.

“I’m gonna go get you some water, and then I’ll leave you alone.”

Footsteps were heard going out her bedroom door until they grew faint, and Y/N let out a sigh she didn’t know she was holding. She closed her eyes, pulling the blanket closer to her chest, when a soft voice spoke out.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

It was Minho, and Y/N could feel his presence coming closer to her. She froze for a second, forgetting that he was even still here, pulling the blanket off of her so she could see him.

“I’m sorry,” He repeated, hands twitching slightly by his side, as if he didn’t know what to do with them, “I’m so sorry. I would have never brought you there or even offered if I knew. I can’t help but feel like this is my fault. I’m just—I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

Y/N sat up, wiping underneath her eyes with her hands in attempt to get some of the mascara and eyeliner off of her face, reaching her hand out towards him. He hesitated for a moment before slowly grasping her hand in his, and Y/N smiled briefly, knowing Minho wasn’t the biggest on touch yet still let her hold him in a way.

“It’s not your fault. Exactly like you just said, you didn’t know. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I just didn’t want to go through that again. And it’s a little embarrassing,” She let out a chuckle, “I’m just embarrassed right now is all. You didn’t know. Don’t blame yourself.”

“I know but still,” He replied with a sigh, “I just won’t go tomorrow either. We can all go do something else—“

“No, you’re going to go,” She interrupted him, “Chan is your best friend. You’ve been so excited about it. You’re going to go and enjoy yourself and support him. Just because he’s in the same band doesn’t mean you can’t go.”

“Well, yeah, but I’d feel weird if I—“

“Minho, you’re giving me a headache,” Y/N interrupted him, again, letting go of his hand to lay back down with a dramatic sigh.

Minho rolled his eyes, “Fine. I’ll go.”

“Go where?” Felix asked as he re-entered the room, placing the cup of ice water with a lemon slice in it on her bedside table.

“The festival.”

“Oh, you’re still going?” He asked Minho, but before he could answer, Y/N spoke up, “Yes, he’s still going. And you are, too.”

“Hell the fuck no I’m not,” Felix scoffed out, crossing his arms across his chest.

Y/N groaned in slight annoyance, “You are both getting on my nerves. Lix, you had such a good time tonight, and I could tell you really liked Chan and Changbin. I was just telling Minho this, but just because he’s a bit of an asshole, doesn’t mean you can’t go support everyone else. It’s not going to hurt my feelings, I promise. Plus, I kind of want to be alone for a bit. No offense.”

“A bit of an asshole?! More like a—“

“Lix,” Minho interrupted him with a warning glare, and Felix sighed, glancing over at Y/N who was already looking at him with a pleading expression. Rather it be the tired, broken look in her eyes or the fact that she might be right, Felix found himself caving in, sighing out a short, “Fine.”

Y/N smiled slightly, mumbling out a thank you as she curled herself back up into her comforter. She just wanted them to be happy and enjoy themselves; that’s all she wants. Plus, Minho had paid a lot for the tickets and she didn’t want them to go to waste. She decided she would Venmo him for her portion anyway once she mustered enough energy to roll over and glance at her phone.

“I guess we’ll leave you alone for a bit. It’s almost midnight so we should probably get some rest anyway since the festival starts at noon tomorrow,” Minho let out, Felix reluctantly agreeing. The same hand was felt on her shoulder again, a deep sigh carrying out through the room.

“Try to get some sleep, okay? We’ll see you in the morning before we leave.” Felix softly spoke, and Y/N nodded her head in reply, even though they couldn’t see her.

Seconds later the door quietly shut and she let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. Everything was now silent and dark, despite the faint sounds of Felix and Minho walking around the house, and Y/N suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of loneliness, mind drifting back to Hyunjin.

Hyunjin, and his stupid long hair and piercing brown eyes. Hyunjin, and his beautiful body that was now adorned in multiple tattoos and piercings. Hyunjin, who seemed to be a completely different person, yet still so familiar at the same time.

She rolled over, throwing the comforter off of her curled up body, sitting up on the side of the bed. Glancing at her window, she noticed the stars were out. She slowly got out of bed, pulling her dress down a little as she approached the window, the stars and the moon shining brightly, igniting a soft glow. Her hand carefully grazed the coolness of the window, a tear slowly falling down her cheek as she sunk down to the floor, nothing but Hyunjin on her mind.

——>

“Do you think we’re best friends in every universe?”

Hyunjin swiped the brush against the canvas in front of him before dipping it in the now dirty cup of water, tongue peeking out from the corner of his lip, letting out a soft hum in response. Y/N rolled over to her stomach at his response, hands underneath her chin as she faced him, canvas blocking half of his face from her view.

“Did you hear me?” She asked with a small huff, and Hyunjin glanced at her briefly before continuing his strokes on the canvas.

“Why are you asking such a random question? Obviously.” He replied with a click of his tongue and a slight eye roll.

Y/N glanced around his bedroom, eyes settling on his desk cluttered with multiple art supplies and sketches, and then at the picture of her and him at the photo booth at Chuck e. cheese hanging up on his wall. She chose her next question carefully, softly. “So you don’t think that in another universe, we could be something else?”

Hyunjin glanced at her again, and she could feel his gaze on her face, but her eyes stayed locked on the picture. “Like what?” He asked.

She shuffled a little bit in his bed, hands coming down to lay in front of her as she played with the loose thread on his comforter. “Like… two pigeons running down the beach. Or sunflowers swaying in a field,” She spoke, in thought, before leaning her head on one of her hands, “We could even be married in another life. Wouldn’t that be fun? Growing old together?”

It was quiet for a minute, the sound of birds faintly chirping outside being the only sound heard. Y/N snuck a glance at him, wishing she could see his entire expression instead of only half, gulping loudly when seeing that he looked lost in thought.

“Yeah, it would,” He finally replied, voice coming out soft, unwavering. “We are going to grow old together anyway, though. So I guess it wouldn’t matter if we were married or not.”

Y/N glanced at the picture again, the giant smiles plastered on their faces as they excitedly hugged each other. She remembered them wanting to be as close as possible to ensure they both fit in the picture from how small the booth was; being as close as possible to one another was always their thing. She wished they could get closer.

“But wouldn’t it be nice to be married to each other? And to do things married people do? To… to wake up beside each other every morning, and to cook dinner together every night, and… and…” She trailed off, cheeks heating up when realizing she was definitely speaking her inner thoughts out loud and she definitely should not finish her sentence. Her hands began to grow clammy from the slight anxiety she was feeling, and she shook her head slightly, sitting up on the edge of the bed and reaching for her iPad and bag.

“Nevermind. I don’t really know what I’m saying,” She laughed out, shoving her belongings into her bag quickly before throwing it over her shoulder. “I’m gonna head out. Mom’s making dinner. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She quickly walked past him, a soft grip on her wrist making her stop in her tracks. She looked up to see that Hyunjin had stood up, the paint brush now sitting in the cup, his expression soft. “It would be nice,” He let out, and Y/N’s heart skipped a beat, “We already do those things, anyway. But you know you’re the only person I’d want to do it with. You’re my best friend.”

Best friend. Right. They are best friends, and that’s all it would ever be.

“Yeah,” She replied, eyes trailing down to the plush of his lips. The last time they kissed was when they had their second make out session in the back seat of his car after he finished soccer practice two weeks ago. Her cheeks started to heat up at the memory, and she found herself biting her bottom lip slightly when remembering the sound he made whenever she accidentally pressed down too hard on his lap.

Hyunjin noticed, finding himself doing the same as his teeth sunk into his lower lip, the grip on her wrist tightening slightly. Nothing was said for a minute, the tension shifting in the air. And then his lips were on hers for the third time.

Y/N doesn’t know who initiated it first, but she didn’t care. The bag that was on her shoulder fell to the floor with a soft thud and his hands were cupping her face. She put hers on his shoulders, trailing them up and down, not exactly sure where she should put them. She just wanted to feel him in more ways than one, so she took a step forward, his knees hitting the edge of the bed as he fell on top of it. Their kiss broke, but only for a second before Y/N was climbing on top of him, a small moan escaping his lips as she kissed him again.

She was definitely feeling more confident this time. The first time her and Hyunjin had made out was sloppy, but it was amazing. The second time was rushed and hot, as Hyunjin just needed to release some steam from a shitty practice he had. But this time was desperate and so, so dangerous. It was so dangerous because she was becoming addicted and eventually it was going to kill her.

His hands gripped her thighs, and she pulled back. “W-we’re doing it again,” She stuttered out, his lips moving to her neck, making the butterflies erupt in her stomach.

“And?” He replied, hands now moving towards her ass, letting out a deep groan at the fullness in his hands. He kissed her again, slipping his tongue past her lips, and she let out a content sigh at the feeling.

“I-is this… weird to you?” She struggled to get out her sentence, rolling her head to the side to give him access to her neck instead of her lips. It’s not that she didn’t want to kiss him, she most definitely did, but she wanted to see where his head was at. Which was, unfortunately, sometimes difficult to do.

He didn’t reply, choosing to pepper her neck with kisses and slight bites, and she shifted on his lap each time, soft moans filling his room. “Jinnie,” She tried to get his attention again, gasping slightly when feeling him underneath her, a tingling sensation traveling down from her head to her toes. He buckled his hips up, and she gently pushed him down.

“What?” He asked, panting slightly, lips red and moist from their spit, and she gulped before asking her question again. Hyunjin was starring so intensely at her that it made her squirm in his lap, and he tightened his grip on her ass slightly.

“No, I don’t think it’s weird,” He replied out through breaths, eyes trailing down her body and back up to her face briefly, “We’re just best friends who sometimes make out. People do it all the time.”

Do they? Y/N thought to herself, glancing down at her thighs and away from him, an uneasy feeling growing in her chest. Hyunjin noticed her expression, moving his hands to her hips instead, rubbing them a little as an act of comfort.

“Are you uncomfortable?” He asked, a slightly concerned expression on his face, and Y/N immediately shook her head.

“Of course not! I’m always comfortable with you. It’s just… is this… okay? Are we… okay?”

His hands stopped their movements, and Y/N immediately regretted the question that just came out of her mouth. He looked as if he was lost in thought, a slight pout on his lips, and his hair was slightly falling into his eyes, looking a little unkempt, but Y/N thought he was beautiful.

“I don’t see an issue with it,” He finally replied, lightly trailing his hands up and down her thighs, a soft grin forming on his lips, “Like I said, we’re best friends who sometimes make out. We’re okay. Nothing will change that.”

Y/N woke up to her phone going off, the vibration making a screeching noise on her bedside table, eyes struggling to open from the bright sun that was currently gracing her face. She blinked a couple times, letting out an annoyed groan as she covered her eyes with her hand in attempt to block out the light from blinding her vision so early in the morning.

The first thing she noticed once she somewhat came to her senses was that she was so uncomfortable. Her back was aching and her neck was as stiff as a rock, and she turned her head to the side to notice that she was currently laying on the floor next to the window. No wonder her back felt like shit.

She cursed to herself, bringing herself up to sit on her knees, back popping and a grimace forming on her lips. She can’t believe she slept an entire night on the floor. And she didn’t even change out of her dress or take her makeup off, which is something she always does, so why did she not do it this time?

Memories from last night flooded her brain all at once, and suddenly, she wasn’t able to feel the physical pain from her back or her neck, because nothing can compare to the pain of heartbreak. The dream she had last night of her and Hyunjin was fresh in her mind, hitting her like a ton of bricks as she felt a heavy feeling in her chest. Waking up to the thought of him was not a great start to her day, but it’s not like she never stopped thinking about him anyway.

Willing herself to stand up and stop wallowing so much in her self-pity, she slowly shuffled her way towards her bathroom, turning the light on and cringing at her reflection in the mirror. She looked like a fucking wreck, with mascara running down her face in streaks, lipstick slightly smudged around her mouth, eyes puffy and red and dry. Her hair was still slicked back into the ponytail and she mentally rated the styling cream she used five stars. However, she couldn’t think about that long as the events from last night kept replaying in her mind.

“Hey Petal.”

He had called her by her nickname that he made for her when they were in middle school, when Hyunjin had gifted her a bouquet of roses after her chorus concert. It seemed fitting at the time, so naturally, the nickname stuck with her. He was the only one who called her that, and he was the only one she wanted to call her that. But last night, it didn’t seem right coming from his lips when there was so much distance between them for years. Yet, she couldn’t help the flutter in her chest when he spoke to her, despite everything.

Another vibration from her phone interrupted her thoughts and she shook her head slightly before walking to her bedside table to unplug her phone, seeing that she had multiple unread texts and two calls from Felix.

lix🐥: hey ugly

lix🐥: minho convinced me to not wake u up, but i left u some ramen if ur hungry whenever u get up. we’re heading to the festival now but i’ll text u whenever we get there

lix🐥: we’re here. it’s crowded af and my social anxiety is slowly brewing 😀 gonna get some drinks and claim us a spot. i’ll send pics l8ter

lix🐥: 1 attachment

lix🐥: me and minho are currently downing this bucket of beers rn. say a prayer for me plz. miss u

lix🐥: 2 missed calls

lix🐥: hey bubs it’s been like 3 hrs since i last texted can u tell me if ur alive at least bc im ✨worried✨

lix🐥: ///:

y/n: i’m alive. i just woke up. stop worrying about me and enjoy yourself. let me know when you’re both otw home and be safe

lix🐥: 🫡

Y/N let out a sigh, locking her phone back before throwing it on her bed. She shivered, goosebumps forming on her skin from the AC that just turned on, reminding her that she was still in her dress that was now bunched up her ass. She cringed at that fact, deciding she should take a shower and wash away the overwhelming sense of depression and desperation she was currently feeling from last night, feet shuffling against the floor as she made her way back towards the bathroom to turn the water on.

She took her time washing her hair and body before finding herself curling up on the floor of the shower, head resting against the coolness of the tile behind her as she soaked in the scalding hot water falling down her body. Hyunjin had always hated how hot she kept the water when she showered, and she found herself thinking back to one of the multiple times he had yelled at her over it.

“Are you almost done?!” Hyunjin yelled from the inside of his bedroom, laying down on his bed with his phone in his hands, “I’ve got to shower too, you know! I can only wait so long!”

Y/N rolled her eyes, choosing to ignore him as she hummed to Katy Perry’s Fireworks that was currently playing on his bluetooth speaker. She just finished shaving her legs and was currently finishing up washing her body with her designated hot pink loofah that always hung next to Hyunjin’s blue one in the shower.

“Hello?! Are you ignoring me?!” He yelled out again just as she finished rinsing off.

“I told you I would let you know when I’m done! Stop yelling and being so dramatic and wait your turn!”

She heard some shuffling, and then the bathroom door slammed open, making Y/N let out a short scream. “What are you doing?! You’re not allowed in here yet!”

Hyunjin rolled his eyes even though she couldn’t see him, reaching up to tug his shirt off and throwing it on the bathroom floor, “You’re taking too long so I’m coming in. I smell like grass and shit and it’s starting to give me a headache.”

“Like hell you are!” Y/N replied, opening the shower door slightly so she could peek her head out, a gasp threatening to escape her mouth when she caught sight of a shirtless Hyunjin who was now in the process of sliding his athletic shorts off his legs. “Are you insane?! Do not come in here! I’m literally naked!”

“No shit,” Hyunjin let out a laugh, rolling his eyes as he stepped out of his shorts, “I won’t look at you. We can just graze our butt cheeks against each other as we take turns rinsing off. This is a great way for us to up our friendship level.”

Y/N could feel her face turning red at his comment, mouth falling open in complete disbelief that he had even said that, and she found herself stuttering out a mix of words that made absolutely no sense. It was when Hyunjin reached for his briefs, about to take them off, that had her finally forming words.

“Stop!” She screeched out, a smirk of triumph forming on Hyunjin’s lips as he glanced at her, “Oh my god, you’re literally so annoying! Hand me my towel, asshole.”

Hyunjin smirked widened as he reached for the towel currently folded and sitting on the toilet seat. He unwrapped it, handing it out to her with a sickly sweet look on his face, and Y/N huffed in annoyance before jerking it out of his hands. She could hear Hyunjin singing, could picture him currently rocking back and forth on the heels of his feet as he waited for her to step out. She decided to turn the hot water up slightly out of spite before she wrapped the towel around her body, opening the door wider and stepping out of the shower.

Just as she suspected, Hyunjin was still standing there, grin still on his face. He glanced at her feet, and then back to her face, a few drops of water trailing down her neck. She glared at him, “You’re not even going to say thank you for keeping the water on for you?”

He let out a chuckle, finding himself wanting to wipe the drops of water off her neck but restrained himself, “Thanks, Pedal. You’re an angel.”

“Idiot.” She mumbled to herself, letting out a small shriek when he reached for his briefs again, quickly running out of the room and closing the bathroom door. She could hear Hyunjin laughing on the other side and wanted to yell at him to shut up but decided against it.

She began drying herself off when she heard him scream, giggling to herself as she knew what he was screaming about, pulling her shirt over her head. “Seriously, Y/N?! You’ve just scalded my dick over here!”

She laughed to herself, a pleasing smile on her face as she continued to get dressed. “You’re not going to even say anything?! You keep the water way too hot! No wonder your skin is always so red!”

“Shut up and shower! You smell like shit!” She yelled back, thankful that nobody was home to hear them basically cussing each other out.

Suddenly, a loud bang was heard, a long groan following shortly after. Y/N turned her head towards the bathroom, immediately rushing in to see Hyunjin’s silhouette laying on shower floor.

“Oh my god, Jinnie!” She yelled out, “Are you okay? Did you just fall?”

She opened the shower door slightly to get a glimpse of him just to make sure he was okay, letting out the loudest scoff when seeing a smirk on his face, a satisfied hum escaping his lips. “Now if you wanted to see me naked all you had to do was ask, Pedal.”

“Shut up, idiot!” She replied, quickly shutting the door back, face flushing even more when he began laughing like the little menace he is. She decided she was going to turn the water even hotter next time.

The urge to cry again was strong, but she was sick of crying; she was sick of feeling this way, so she told herself she wasn’t going to cry anymore. That mindset didn’t last long, however, as she eventually felt her eyes tearing up.

Hyunjin was always in the back of her mind someway or another, but now that she had seen him in the flesh after so many years, she didn’t know what to think. She had spent months attempting to reach out once he had left, attempting to even ask his own parents where he had gone, and got nothing in return. Eventually, the texts went from blue to green, and her heart went from broken to completely shattered.

Hyunjin had always wanted to be an artist. He loved to create art, through paint or pencils or dance. He was always creative and told his own stories in more subtle ways, always full of light despite the lingering darkness that always found a way back to him. Y/N had noticed more times than once that he would put on an act at times, knowing how much he despised his parents, knowing that he hated living at home. She knew he wanted to leave, but she didn’t think he would leave without her. And then he leaves, disappears for years, and now suddenly shows back up as the lead singer of a band? Hyunjin had always wanted to be an artist, so it didn’t make any sense to her. None of it made sense to her.

She grew annoyed at the fact that she was crying again, harshly wiping her tears from her face. She wanted to scream, wanted to claw her skin off her body; she hated feeling this way, and she hated the way her heart was reacting. She should be angry, completely and utterly repulsed at the thought of seeing Hyunjin after the shit he has put her through. But she isn’t, and she hates herself for it.

She just missed him. She missed him so much.

Y/N doesn’t know how long she stayed sitting in the shower, but it was long enough to where the hot water ran out and her skin turned wrinkly. She felt numb to the coldness of the water, not even flinching when feeling it falling down on her, suffocating her. Right now, she wished it would. It would be so much easier.

Y/N thought about seeing a therapist for the longest time after Hyunjin had left her. It wasn’t until her breakdown with Felix that had her solidifying the fact that she definitely needed to talk to someone, as it was now interfering with her intimacy with other people. Felix had befriended her and guided her to get the help she needed, and she would forever be grateful for that. She was getting better, had graduated university in the top 10% of her class, got herself a job working in the ICU at one of the top hospital’s in the state, and had made new friends and memories. She was getting better until she saw him, and now it feels like it’s back to square one.

She thought of Hyunjin and the many pinky promises he had made with her. She thought of Hyunjin and the way he always made her feel safe. She thought of Hyunjin and his tattoos and piercings and long hair that covered his eyes so elegantly. She thought of the smirk on his lips, the fire his touch left on her skin, and she became angry. How dare he just show up again like this after years and pretend nothing had even happened?She was pissed at the thought of him acting so nonchalant, so unbothered, while she had spent years crying and praying for him to come back to her somehow.

It was uncanny, really—a fever dream. And she’ll be damned if she lets him get away again so easily.

She turned the shower off, a sudden coolness gracing her skin as she stepped out of the shower. She didn’t even bother wrapping herself up in a towel, leaving a trail of water as she rushed back into her bedroom, clicking on Felix’s location. After all, she did still have the ticket saved on her phone, and she didn’t want it to go to waste.

y/n: changed my mind, i’ve decided to come. i’ll be there soon

——>

It was excruciatingly hot.

Y/N was stood in line to get a drink, (liquid courage, of course), and she could just practically feel the sweat dripping down her back and into her skirt. The thought made her cringe but she had been in line for about thirty minutes now and it was almost her turn, so she had to tough it out. It’s insane how hot it was even at 1600, but luckily, the sun would be going down soon.

She sighed, pushing the sunglasses she was wearing further up her nose, glancing over to see a girl wearing a black crop top with Stray Kids engraved across her breasts in red.

“You’re here for Stray Kids, I’m assuming?” She let out without thinking, the girl turning to look at her, placing a hand on her forehead in attempts to block the sun from her eyes.

“Hell yeah! They’re the only reason I came to this thing,” She grinned, quickly taking her phone out of her pocket to show her the back of her phone case, “Huge Hyunjin girlie. I wanna fuck him so bad, dude. He’s sex on legs.”

Y/N felt her breath hitch at the picture she had on her phone case. He was posing in the mirror, his collarbones and shoulders on display, hair bleached blonde, biting his lip softly. She had only ever seen him with black hair, so this was new to her.

She found herself starring at the picture for far too long, the girl letting out a giggle before putting her phone back in her back pocket of her jean shorts. “Told you, sex on legs,” She grinned again, and Y/N couldn’t disagree with that statement, “I heard he gets around with his fans. Maybe I’ll get lucky tonight.”

Y/N felt a strange feeling of slight jealousy at her comments, annoyance overcoming her and she glared at the girl through her sunglasses. She shouldn’t have even said anything in the first place because now her mood turned sour and she just wanted to punch this girl in the face for even thinking she would end up in his bed.

Choosing to ignore her, she finally ended up at the front of the line, ordering the largest size of a frozen mango margarita. She took a large gulp as she turned around after saying a quick thank you, eyes scanning the huge crowd in attempts to find the B stage that Felix and Minho were currently standing at. However, she realized she should probably use the bathroom before she met up with them, so she asked the closest person she could find where the bathrooms were.

“They’re right over there!” She replied, pointing to a section where a bunch of different trailers were parked. She thanked them and made her way over there, finding the closest trailer and walking inside.

She cringed at the thought of bringing her drink into the bathroom with her, (she should’ve thought this through), but had no choice but to, stepping inside the bathroom and sliding the door shut.

After she washed and dried her hands, she let out a sigh, looking at her reflection in the mirror. She had opted to braid her hair instead of attempting to fix it, the two braids hanging over her shoulders. Her top was low cut, black, and lace, splitting down the middle and flowing over her sides, coming down to her boots that covered her ankles. Her stomach was on display, belly button ring shining from the light in the bathroom. She wanted to fit the festival vibe a little more, and she wanted to dress confidently. She thought she looked good, but would it be good enough for him? She shook her head, trying to get those thoughts out of her mind, grabbing her drink and sliding open the bathroom door.

She was surprised to see a guy sitting on the couch that was weirdly placed near the bathroom, stumbling back slightly when seeing that he looked awfully familiar.

He glanced up at the sound, eyebrow furrowing in confusion. “Uh,” He let out, glancing her body over from head to toe before looking back at her face, “Who the fuck are you?”

Slightly taken aback, she took a step backwards, “Excuse me?”

“You’re excused. Now you’re hot and all, but who the fuck are you and why are you in my trailer?”

Y/N blinked, words failing to come out, and she knew she looked like an absolute idiot. Why did this guy look so familiar, and why was he talking to her like that? Isn’t this the public restroom?

“Alright, I’m calling security.” He decided, beginning to type in a number on his phone, and Y/N was frozen in her spot. What the fuck was going on?

Before anything could happen, the door opened, and Y/N felt her throat close up.

“Han, you won’t believe what shit I just heard. I—“ Hyunjin stopped his sentence, eyes widening when seeing that Y/N was standing in their trailer. Y/N couldn’t move, couldn’t speak—she felt like she could pass out any second now. Everything was happening too fast, and she could feel her breathing picking up.

Not even five seconds passed and two men were barging through the door, shoving past Hyunjin and heading straight towards Y/N. She took a step back in fright, stumbling when both of the men gripped her arms so tightly it was sure to leave a bruise. She let out a gasp, the men dragging her like she was some ragdoll, and Hyunjin immediately stepped in front of the door.

“What the fuck? Don’t touch her like that!” He yelled out, but the men ignored him, continuing to shove her towards the door. It wasn’t until she stumbled over her feet and fell, one of the men roughly grabbing her and jerking her back up, that Hyunjin had lost it.

“I said don’t fucking touch her! Put her the fuck down and take your hands off her before I get you both fired!”

It was then that the men let her go, and Y/N immediately backed away. She let out a wince, rubbing her arms, noticing that she already had a bruise forming on her thigh from when she fell. Her arms were aching and she just wanted to get the hell out of here. This was such a bad idea. She shouldn’t have came.

“Dude, what the fuck are you doing?” The guy on the couch, Han, asked, and Hyunjin glared at him.

“What am I doing?! What the fuck are you doing? Did you seriously call them to come get her?”

Han let out a scoff, “Obviously. She’s in our trailer. I mean she’s fine as hell but she’s obviously a crazed fan. Why else would she be in here?”

If looks could kill, Han would be dead by now. “She’s not a crazed fan! I know her! It’s Y/N!” He yelled out, Han’s eyes widening slightly in realization, and Y/N could cry right now. “Get out!” He screamed at the two men still standing by the door, then glancing back at Han who now looked guilty as fuck sitting on the couch. “You too!”

“Where the fuck am I supposed to go?”

“I don’t know and I don’t care! Just please get out.”

Han let out a sigh, glancing over at Y/N, mumbling out an apology before heading out the door. It was quiet, too quiet, and Y/N refused to look up, hugging her arms across her chest.

“I… I was just coming to use the bathroom,” She softly spoke, not really knowing what else to say other than to explain herself, “This girl told me this was where the public restrooms were. I—I didn’t know it was your trailer. I’m sorry. I’m gonna go now.”

She then quickly attempted to walk past him and out the door, but a hand on her wrist stopped her. She winced slightly, and he immediately let go, letting out a, “It’s okay. You… you don’t have to leave.”

She could feel her eyes watering, a heavy feeling in her chest, so she chose to ignore him and pushed the door open. A strangled noise behind her made her stop in her tracks, voice heavy, pleading.

“Please don’t leave me.”

A tear fell down her cheek and she quickly wiped it away, taking in a deep breath, closing her eyes. This was what she wanted, right? She wanted to be able to see him again, to talk to him, to ask him why he left. So why was it so hard?

She stood there for a second before slowly turning around, eyes softening at the sight of him. His eyes were heavy, glossing over, and Y/N just wanted to hug him. So she did.

He stumbled back a few steps before his arms latched around her, holding her close to him. Her face was buried in his shirt, her arms wrapped around his neck. She was holding him so tightly, afraid if she let go he would disappear again. And she really, really didn’t want him to disappear again.

“I’ve missed you,” She sobbed out, tears soaking his shirt, but she couldn’t help it. The words kept coming out and she couldn’t stop it. “I’ve missed you so much. I can’t—I can’t…”

“Shh, it’s alright. I’m here. I’m here, Y/N,” He whispered in her ear, and she sobbed even harder. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I’m here. I’m right here.”

It was embarrassing, really, how easily her body betrayed her—how easily her mind betrayed her. When it comes to him, she has no self control, no mind of her own. He was here and she was here and that was all that mattered; he was all that mattered.

She was sure she would regret this later. But right now, she needed him to hold her. It was all she wanted for five years; it was all she ever wanted.

So he held her and she held him and she cried and cried and cried, until she couldn’t anymore. And when he wiped her tears away with his fingers once she looked at him, when he whispered how much he missed her and how sorry he was, when he cradled her face in his hands so tenderly and looked into his eyes that she loved so much, she finally felt at home.

“Hyunnie, I brought you some of those churros you like,” A girl’s voice was heard once the door opened, and Y/N turned around, heart dropping in the pit of her stomach when seeing the same girl from last night that was kissing and grinding all over him. “Maybe after you eat we can—oh. Who’s this?”

And maybe that’s the best thing about home—the feeling of it. Where we love is home. Even if we have to physically walk away from it, our hearts will still stay.

Hyunjin was her home. But she wasn’t his.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

▫️taglist: @hyundumpling, @hhwangsmoon, @luvyblossom, @inthefairygrove

#hwang hyunjin #hyunjin fanfic #stray kids #hwang hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin x reader #stray kids smut #stray kids fanfic #stray kids x reader #hyunjin x y/n #hyunjin angst #skz x reader #skz smut #hyunjin smut

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buck-star · 1 year ago

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Already mine | Bucky Barnes

Pairing -> BestFriend!Bucky Barnes x BestFriend!Female!Reader

Summary -> Bucky and you are fake dating for a mission, when the two of you are out for dinner you tell him about your planned date with someone. But Bucky isn’t really happy about it and makes sure to show you that you’re already his.

Warnings -> (E) Minors DNI, 18+, smut, slight chocking, kinda public fingering (not really), fingering (fem!receiving), oral (fem!receiving), unprotected p in v, multiple orgasm, squirting, breeding kink, jealous/possessive Bucky, bit of miscommunication

Wordcount -> 3.4K

Request -> I am absolutely foaming at the mouth as i think about this request i'm just ASHWUWHEU. okay, i'm sorry. hello! i wanted to order (👀) something from your smut menu which would be !!! fake dating (i gobble this up every time), jealous!bucky (when he's POSSESSIVEEE like yes please), and breeding kink (don't look at me like that...) idk if you allow additional details, but maybe some miscommunication/misunderstanding? god, i love that little pain before the delicious fluff & smut. 🥹 but you don't have to add that bit if it's not allowed! back to freaking out JDAJJDWJIDWKDO omg if you do write this, i will forever be thankful JDIANDKWMFKFKKEFKKR THANK YOU!

A/N -> Thank you so much for the request. I tried to include everything, I added a few things and I hope you like it. My askbox is open so feel free to send and ask, as well as that feel free to send a request for the Bucky Barnes Smut Menu.

Prompt -> Fandom-Free Bingo | B4 | Multiple Orgasm | @fandom-free-bingo

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Smut Menu | Fandom-Free Bingo | Bucky Barnes Masterlist | Part two

You’re standing in front of your mirror; your red dress fits perfectly around your body, and you only need to fix your hair before you’re ready for your date with Bucky, or at least your fake date with him. The two of you are on a mission right now, dating each other, so no one will know that you're Avengers.

You hear the bathroom door opening and a gasp leaving Bucky's lips. With his eyes on you, he admires your back before his eyes move to look through the mirror. You smile softly when you see his blue eyes looking up and down, trying to see every inch of your body.

“You look beautiful, doll,” he tells you, and the feeling in your stomach, the one you have just with Bucky, grows.

You’re best friends, but something between the two of you changed. There are feelings for each other you have never felt for someone before. And now that you’re going on a date with him, even if it’s just a fake date, it feels like he really asked you out.

“Thank you, you too,” you mumble with a slight blush on your cheeks.

He walks a step closer and leans his shoulder against the wall. His hands running through his hair, the shirt, and his pants look like they were made for him.

“Can we?” he asks, smirking when you try to get your hair under control.

You nod while you turn around and fix your hair, walking a few steps closer to Bucky. His eyes are still on you, focused on every move you’re making. Bucky's nose is slightly scrunched while he smirks at you.

His hands are immediately around your waist when he is able to reach you, bringing your body closer to his. Bucky leans forward until he reaches your ear.

“When this would be a real date and not only for that mission, I would immediately help you to take off your clothes,” he mumbles into your ear, and you shiver slightly, pressing your thighs together to stop the arousal dripping down your legs.

Bucky chuckles softly, noticing your action, but he doesn’t say anything. He moves a few inches away from you and looks your body up and down before he holds his hand out so you can place yours in his.

“Ready?” he asks — Bucky, the 40’s gentleman in front of you — and you can’t stop but smile softly.

You place your hand in his, and then he walks through the room with you. His fingers are holding your hand tightly, but it is still soft in his hand. He smiles when he moves a strand of his hair behind his hair, then he opens the door and lets you walk through it before he follows you.

That’s something you love about Bucky. You've never met someone with that kind of charm and kindness before. He treats women like a gentleman, buying them flowers and asking them out to go to the cinema, and he takes care that his girl has everything she needs. You know those things because you have seen him with some women before — the way he smiled when he was buying flowers and presenting them to you, or when he asked for advice for date ideas in this century. You smiled and told him a few ideas, but inside your chest was a heavy feeling when you saw him with the other women, touching her and smiling at her in a way you would love him to look at you.

Bucky's hand is still holding yours when you walk through the corridor. You feel that tingling feeling in your stomach, and when you look at him, you need to concentrate so you won’t stare at him for the rest of the evening.

His jaw is relaxed, but his jawline is still visible. Bucky's blue eyes focused on the people around him, but his lips formed into a cute smile. You could look at him the whole time, but he caught you. He turns his head around and narrows his eyebrows.

“Do I distract you from the mission?” he asks, chuckling.

“No, it’s just- I wanted to make sure you’re focused,” you tell him.

“You checked that for five minutes already.”

His words make you blush, and you feel so embarrassed, but his beauty is just too much for you to look away from. The brown-haired man laughs before he walks through the door into the restaurant of the hotel.

You really looked at him for that long? You walked down the stairs, through two floors, and you weren't able to get your eyes off him? You definitely need to stop acting like that when you’re near him; otherwise, your mission won’t work the way Tony wants it.

He leads you to a table; it’s quiet there, and you enjoy the moment where it’s just the two of you. But when you see the people you’re looking for, you sigh softly. With a nod, you show Bucky you see them, and he turns his head softly.

They don’t look like criminals, but you read their files, and they are definitely criminals. They supported Hydra and still do, which is why you’re following them, and now it’s on you and Bucky to get to know where their hidden base is.

You listen a while to them before you look at Bucky with a serious gaze. When he feels you looking at him, he looks up from his plate, showing you he listens to you.

“Buck, you know we- we are best friends, right?”

He nods, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion. His hand clenches softly around the fork, slightly sweating what you would like to tell him.

“And this whole dating thing is. Yeah, it’s really cool, but-“ you interrupt yourself. With a deep breath, you look down at your plate before looking back into Bucky's eyes, glistening with curiosity. “It’s just- as you said, 'when this wouldn’t be fake dating’ I don’t think we should. Bucky I love you, but I am dating someone else; he asked me out for dinner tomorrow,” you mumble, not really knowing why you tell him about it.

“Oke,” he says with a cold voice.

“Don’t be mad, please.”

“I’m not.”

You raise your eyebrow, knowing that he is mad at you. But there is no reason for him to be mad, right? The two of you are best friends, and he probably doesn't like you in the same way you do. But you can’t risk your friendship, so you just try to date the other guy; he is nice and handsome, and you can learn to love him, can’t you?

Bucky mumbles something to himself before he almost breaks the plate with the fork, smashing it down on it. His hand into a fist, and you can already see his knuckles turning white, his jaw clenching while his eyes are focused on you.

“Buck?” you ask softly, his eyes turning dark, but he is still quiet. “Could you try and not destroy the plate?”

He chuckles darkly, smashing the fork on the plate once more and breaking it. He smiles when he sees the damage in front of him and the sauce slowly flowing over the table.

You sigh softly, reaching for his hand to place yours around his. Bucky stands up, pulling his hand away, before he walks around the table and places his hand around your throat. With a firm grip, he pulls you up from the chair, making you look slightly up into his eyes. Bucky is towering over you, his tongue slipping over his lips.

“You can’t fuck someone else,” he tells you. His voice is deep, and it causes a shiver along your spine.

“What? Why can’t I? I’m an adult, and I can do whatever I want,” you say, not as confident as always, but you try your best to sound confident.

He laughs darkly and roughly. Bucky’s grip around your throat tightens, and he pulls you even closer. With his firm chest pressing against your front, you feel his muscular body through the fabric of your clothes.

“You’re mine,” he whispers, and he lets go of you.

Bucky turns around and walks out of the restaurant. Your jaw drops open slightly, and you look while he makes his way until he reaches the door and pushes it open. You need a moment to realize his words when you sit down to calm yourself down. You feel the eyes of all the other people around you.

Your cheeks heat up, and you want to run out of the room too, but your legs feel so shaky that you can’t do a step without holding yourself up at something. You put some money on the table and get up again, holding yourself to the chairs and slowly following your best friend.

When you finally walk out of the restaurant, you see Bucky leaning against the wall. His eyes are dark, and he looks at you with a cold expression.

He walks a step closer, towering over you. With a fast movement, his hand is around your throat once more, and he pushes you against the wall. It’s a loose grip but strong enough to hold you where he wants you.

“You’re mine, and I will fill you with my babies so everyone sees you’re mine,” he tells you with a slight smile on his lips.

You whimper; your hands are around his arm, but just to ground yourself.

“Bucky-“

“I smell you; I can fucking smell you. I see the way you look at me, the way you press your thighs together,” he says, chuckling darkly.

“It’s not,” you interrupt yourself. “I have a date tomorrow.”

The laugh that leaves his lips lets you shiver; goosebumps are all over your body, and you can’t stop the arousal growing between your folds. But if he is your best friend and you work together, you can’t be together, can you?

“Yeah?” he asks, and you nod.

Bucky lets go of you and walks a step away from you. He nods his head in the direction of your shared bedroom.

“Tell me you don’t want me, or I will carry you into our room and make sure who you belong to,” he tells you, his blue eyes looking almost into your soul, and you need a moment to handle his words and the way he looks at you.

“Bucky, I have a date.”

“Tell me you don’t want me.”

“I-“ you look down, playing with your hands in front of you.

Bucky laughs and steps closer again; his fingers find their way under your chin and make you look up at him. His eyes glistening with lust, his tongue slipping over his lips, before he leans closer until there are only a few more inches between the two of you.

“Tell me you don’t want me to fuck you and make you pregnant with my babies, doll,” he mumbles.

You feel his breathing on your lips. Before you can answer, you wrap your arms automatically around his neck and press him closer to you. Your lips meet his for a sweet but passionate kiss.

Bucky's hand finds its way down your body until he reaches between your legs and pushes your dress higher to slide his fingers over the fabric of your panties.

You moan when you feel the cold of the metal through your panties. His fingers draw small circles on your clit, making you throw your head back. Bucky uses the moment to attack your neck with kisses, and he bites softly into the sensitive skin.

“Bucky, please,” you whimper, pushing your hips against his hand.

“Let’s go to our room; don’t want others to hear what’s only meant to be for me,” he tells you, and you blush slightly.

Bucky takes his hand away from your folds and wraps his arms around your waist, lifting you up. Your legs are around his waist when he walks with you along the floor to the bedroom the two of you share right now. The mission is completely forgotten. It’s just the two of you — you and Bucky.

It doesn’t take long for your super soldier to carry you into the room and lock the door before he places you on the bed. He stands in front of you, his eyes roaming over your body.

“Strip,” he demands.

“Do it by yourself, old man." you laugh, but the way he looks at you lets you be quiet immediately.

“I can do it, but I don’t think I can hold back then.”

You swallow hard, your eyes focused on him, and the way he takes a step forward and closer to you lets you shiver once more. His aura, his eyes, he makes you go crazy, so you do what he tells you.

“Could you- Can you open the zipper, please?” you ask, and Bucky nods, stepping closer.

His firm chest is almost pressed against your face when he reaches his hands over your shoulders and opens your dress. Bucky lets his hands slide down over your shoulders, holding the fabric in his hand and exposing your shoulders.

Then he takes a step back. You nod as a thank you, standing up and letting the fabric slide down.

“You're pretty, and all mine,” he tells you, reaching out his hands to touch your waist.

Bucky pulls you closer, his hand sliding up your back. He opens your bra and throws it away. Bucky's metal hand captures one of your breasts. You moan softly when his cold hand meets your warm flesh.

He leads you back to the bed until you sit there once again. Bucky gets on his knees in front of you, and you smile mischievously.

“Don’t smile like that; you make me jealous and want me to share what’s mine. I will give you all my cum, and you will beg for more,” he groans, pushing you down so you lay on your back.

Your best friend lowers his head and kisses your pussy through the fabric of your panties. Your hands find their way, and you grip his hair to ground yourself. He uses his hand to push your parties to the side, licking through your folds before he groans.

“You taste better than I thought,” he mumbles, pushing his tongue against your entrance.

“Bucky, more- please,” you moan, arching your back.

He chuckles but does what you want and pushes his tongue inside of you. His metal fingers joining his tongue, he moves one of the fingers inside of you, curling it. With your walls clenching around him, you moan loudly and throw your head back.

Bucky pushes another of his fingers inside of you, pushing them until he reaches his knuckles, and then he pulls them out of you again. After a few more thrusts, he finds your sweet spot, pressing his fingers against it. Your wet and warm walls clench around him, making it almost impossible for him to move his fingers.

“I’m so close. Bucky, please,” you beg, but he stops his movements and removes his fingers.

He sits up and looks at his fingers; they are glistening with your slick, and you blush when he pushes them into his mouth to suck them clean. Bucky groans and takes his clothes off as well.

First his shirt, then he stands up to open his belt and pushes his pants down. You look at him, following his movements with your eyes. You gasp when you see the bulge of his growing dick in his boxers.

“Like what you see, doll?” he asks, and you nod, looking into his face and discovering his body before you stare at his member again.

Bucky pushes the fabric down. His dick springs free, the tip already leaking with pre-cum, and he wraps one of his hands around his member, stroking himself a few times while his eyes are on you.

“Don’t know how often I have imagined that already,” he groans.

You sit up and move yourself further onto the bed. Your legs are spread, and Bucky joins you in bed. He sits between your legs, his dick still sliding through his hand. Bucky slides his tip through your wet folds, groaning when he feels the warmth and wetness. Then he lines himself up with your entrance.

You wrap your hands around his neck and pull him closer, pressing your lips on his and biting his lip softly while he pushes inside of you. Bucky pushes himself further into you, slowly, so he won’t hurt you. He is focused on your expression, making sure to stop when he could hurt you.

“Move, please,” you say and throw your head back when he suddenly pushes the rest of his dick inside of you.

Bucky is balls deep inside of you. He groans softly when you clench around him. Your hands are still wrapped around his neck while he thrusts his hips, moving his dick between your tight walls.

He hits your sweet spot with every movement, making you clench around him more. You moan whenever he thrusts inside of you. The pleasure in your body feels overwhelming, but you love it.

“He could fuck you like that,” Bucky says, kissing your forehead and thrusting inside of you harder. “And he can't love you the way I do. I will fuck you so full with my cum that, doll,” he adds and groans.

“Bucky faster.”

Your best friend chuckles and does what you want. He moves faster and harder inside of you. You can feel the veins on his cock, his dick hitting every right spot inside of you.

His hand finds its way to your clit playing with it while he thrusts in a steady rhythm inside of you. The way you clench around him and your moans get louder, he knows you will cum with a few more thrusts.

“Come for me; scream my name while you cum all over my dick. And I will give you all of my cum; fill you so much; after that, you’re pregnant with my babies,” he mumbles into your ear.

The moment he tells you, you feel the pleasure in your stomach grow until you squirt all over Bucky. The orgasm and the pleasure in your body are better than you ever felt before, and you say his name over and over again while he fucks you through your orgasm.

You’re already overstimulated, but Bucky still thrusts his hips further against yours. You’re a morning mess, your hands tugging on his hair. And you feel the next orgasm building when he still rubs circles on your clit.

“Oh fuck, will give you all of my cum; don’t think this little pussy can take it all,” he groans.

With a few more movements, he cums inside of you and pulls you over the edge with him. Bucky lets his head fall down on your shoulder. His breath is heavy like yours, and he slowly calms down. You slide your fingers through his hair while his dick is still inside of you, and you feel his cum inside of you — cum painting your walls.

“Now you’re mine, and only mine,” Bucky tells you, biting into your neck. “And you will carry my babies, won’t you?”

“I will,” you say, and chuckle when he lifts himself up and kisses your lips.

“My doll, my wonderful, precious doll.”

Bucky slowly pulls out of you, his eyes focused on the spot where your body was connected and where his cum is dripping out of you now. Then he looks up at you again and smiles.

“I love you; I don’t want to be just your best friend. I want to be yours; I want you to be mine,” he confesses, leaning over you again.

“I love you too, and I want nothing more than to be yours. I wanted to date the guy because I wasn’t able to tell you what I felt. I was scared you didn’t feel the same, but you do. And I’m yours, all yours, Buck,” you say, and he nods, kissing you passionately.

“Let’s clean ourselves, and then we should look to see if our people are still eating or if we cuddle after taking a warm bubble bath." Bucky laughs, and you chuckle, and he lifts you up to go to the bathroom and take a bath together.

2K notes · View notes

bvidzsoo · 1 month ago

Text

Your little monster

✗ Mafia heir!Mingi ✗

∞ Author: bvidzsoo

∞ Pairing: Song Mingi x female reader

∞ Warning: pretty suggestive, language, guns, violence, blood, murder, toxicity ∞ Word count: 3.4k ∞ Genre: non-idol!au, mafia!au, established relationship!au, mafia reader!au, Harley Quinn x Joker inspired relationship, smut ∞ Rating: mature ∞ Summary: Oh, how sweet it feels ruling the world. Perhaps you went a little bit overboard as you now have to rescue your boyfriend from going to prison, but it's not like you haven't done worse things together. One might say love turned you two mad.

∞ A/N: Despite being completely depressed today, hey, the inspiration came to finally write this lmao. Now we only have San's part left behind and I'll finally be done with this little mafia drabble mini-series, and I'm already thinking of starting something new and longer due to the current comeback, sigh. Let me know if I forgot anything that should be considered for a warning, I haven't detailed anything too much. Feedback is much appreciated and I hope you enjoy! <3

✗ For ambience, listen to this before or while reading! ^^

∥ Hongjoong ∥ Seonghwa ∥ Yunho ∥ Yeosang ∥ San ∥ Mingi ∥ Wooyoung ∥ Jongho ∥

The explosion replayed on the TV made my skin crawl most excitingly as I grinned in contentment, the cowboy hat lowered over my eyes as I sat in the metal chair, its coldness seeping through my leather attire. A sheen coat of sweat glinted around my temples and between my breasts, the air was rather humid inside the station, even with the open windows. Police officers ran around like jesters, their walkie-talkies staticky every few seconds as they were addressed or had to address someone. My eyes followed every movement closely, surveying the officers' steps and the security of this place. It wasn’t as tight as I had thought it would be given the high criminal rate in this part of the city, but that was only beneficial for me as I grinned under my hand, smacking my lips together before I sighed loudly, making sure my long, exposed, legs would get every men’s attention that passed by the lobby. It wasn’t a lobby, per se, but the chairs placed there were obviously for visitors. Not that any visitor was allowed in at this hour, but nobody seemed to be paying much attention to me, yet. If only they had known what was hiding underneath my leather bomber jacket, strapped to my vest, maybe they would have thought twice about letting me walk in here and sit around unsupervised.

My eyes strayed back onto the TV again, and I chuckled at the shitty quality of the video, but it was unmistakable who the people in it were. Besides, the names flashing in big, red, font on the screen made it rather obvious who the two criminals running away in their Pontiac were. Song Mingi and me. The Firebird, of course, wasn’t ours, but Mingi’s little friend who owned it was late with his payment, so, we made a little bargain with him. Not that the man has had much of a choice saying no to us, it was between his gorgeous white cabriolet or his life. The scum had begged rather pitifully for his life, it had been entertaining holding my gun against his temple, playing Russian Roulette with him. I knew there had been no bullets in the gun, but the man didn’t, and seeing him beg for his life filled me with arousal and excitement like nothing else. There was something about men falling to their knees and praying for their lives that had a certain effect on me, filling me with an adrenaline rush I couldn’t find anywhere else even if I actively searched for it. Not even robbing banks or forcing our way inside households was as exhilarating as making men cry was.

And the man I liked seeing cry the most was Mingi, whether it was underneath me from overstimulation, or because I waterboarded him for even so much as for looking into another female’s direction, the exhilarating power rush was always the same. It was maddening, it was addicting, and I never wanted it to stop. And that is exactly why I never stopped seeking it out. As the TV volume was increased by a passer-by general, a cup of coffee in his hand despite the ungodly hour, I finally caught someone’s attention. The man sitting at the reception, sometimes forced to operate even three phones at one time, looked up with furrowed eyebrows and pointed at me.

“You, lady!” He called loudly, making me grin to myself as I straightened up in my seat, “What business do you have here? Come here!”

The general’s eyes fell on me as I stood up, well aware that my mini-skirt barely concealed anything, yet I made myself look bashful as I adjusted the cowboy hat on top of my head, making sure nobody could see my eyes or my unmistakable flaming ginger hair. I tipped my hat in his direction before I headed for the reception, making sure to sway my hips sensually. The man at the reception frowned at me, apparently not so easily charmed, but he’d eventually be one of my prey as well, all men gave in, after all.

“You called for me?” I grinned and bit my bottom lip, making the man sigh loudly.

“Yes, what is your business here at this hour, lady?” The man sounded irritated, but I didn’t let that get to me as I pouted, my butcher knife pressed uncomfortably into my hip as I shifted my weight around on my feet.

“You see, my boyfriend is in one of your cells, and—”

“Visiting hours start at 9 o’clock, lady, you have to leave.” I tried not to grit my teeth at the interruption and hummed, forcing a sweet smile onto my lips.

“But I’m not here to visit him, Mr. Officer.” I purred, placing my arms over his desk as I leaned forward, pushing my breasts out. I knew if the light fell just right on my exposed skin, the officer could see just what was hidden under my bomber jacket, but wasn’t life boring without a little thrill? “I’m here to bail him out, of sorts.”

The man’s eyes paused on my breasts for a second and I chuckled, they were all the same, manipulating them had always been too easy. The man gulped, then looked back up at my face, his lips pursed but his pupils had slightly dilated. He was too easy.

“What’s the man’s name?”

“I can’t tell you that just yet,” I giggled, reaching forward to play with the shiny badges plastered against his left breast, “I must check if my little cowboy is fine, first. Then, you’ll know if I found him or not.”

The man glanced down at my perfectly manicured stiletto nails still playing with his badges, and he made no moves to push my hand away. How stupid, a jerk of my arm and I’d be able to slash his throat open. How foolish. But when he looked at my face again, I made sure my expression remained innocent, hiding all my thoughts just like I had been once taught by Master Song, the big bad dog, our mafia head and boss of the city, Mingi’s father. Dream big and aim high, if you know how to manipulate men, you might end up living the dream life. It had been too easy so far, Mingi is too dumb for his own good, but he’s amazing at his craft, and thus, I can’t really leave a man that knows what to do with his dick. Besides, once Master Song is gone, Mingi will be the next heir, and then I will have the whole world at my feet. Perfect.

“Your name, lady?” The office grimaced, his eyebrows furrowing now that I was evading all of his questions.

“Oh, wouldn’t you like to know, sweets.” I chuckled, then gripped his badge and yanked him forward by it, making him yelp loudly. The general looked our way, eyebrows furrowed, before he slowly started approaching us, hand on his gun, “Take a wild guess, the news has been raging about us all night long.”

Perhaps blowing up a whole factory owned by the government wasn’t the smartest of Mingi and me, Master Song would punish us adequately if we decided to go back instead of hiding out on one of his private islands until he had cooled off. The perks of dating a mafia head’s son, I suppose. The officer at the desk finally glanced over to the TV, and I took the momentum to slam his head hard enough into the desk to make him pass out. The general was by my side now, and before he could gain the upper head and point his gun at my head, I whirled around and fetched my sharp knife, grinning at him. I kneeled him hard in the gut before spinning him around, knife pressing hard into his smooth flesh. I chuckled as the general didn’t touch his gun, all eyes on us in shock. Then, guns were pointed at us and I scoffed, resting my chin on the general’s shoulder.

“Seriously?” I tsked, “I’m going to slit his throat before you could fire your guns, idiots. Now be good dogs and lower your guns before I blow this whole place up.”

And just on cue, the small microchips I had planted around the offices started beeping, connected to the little machine I had sitting against my lower back. I press one tiny little green button, and this whole place is gone in seconds. The atmosphere was tense as everyone stood frozen, prompting me to press the knife harder into the man’s throat. The general hissed and raised his arms in surrender, “Lower your guns! She’ll blow this whole place up.”

“I damn will!” I giggled and watched the man’s profile. He was old, but he was still handsome. Not my type, but he was definitely eye candy for the older ladies, “Now, you will take me to my love if you want everyone to go home once their shifts are over. And no funny business, Mr. General, or your guts will be all over the floor.”

The general sighed quietly, then pointed towards the back, “Song Mingi is down that hallway.”

“Lovely, now chop chop, I ain’t got all night!” I huffed and manhandled the man around, pushing him towards the door he had mentioned. And just to prove a point to any stupid officer who thought they could somehow have the upper hand here, I reached behind my back with my left arm, feeling around for the nth number of buttons that were lined on the small device. Finding the one I’d been searching for, I sent a flying kiss towards the officers who remained back. However, once the light turned red as I pushed the small button, an explosion inside the building went off, setting the alarms and water system off. Lights flashed in the building and chaos instantly ensued as I giggled, grinning at the general who watched me with wide eyes, “Oopsie, I thought that button was for your lovely cop cars…well, at least they’ll understand I’m not playing around here.”

“You’re crazy.” The general hissed angrily as we walked through the door, forgotten about now that people had to take care of whichever room I had blown up. I think it was the supply room, but I couldn’t be too sure, there were too many small bombs hidden around this place, fascinating, isn’t it?! I pressed a kiss against the man’s cheek to annoy him further, and he made a sound in the back of his throat, looking disgusted.

“You’re no fun, Mr General, lighten up a bit!” I rolled my eyes and forced him forward when he tried to stop walking, “If you were less handsome, I would’ve killed you the second we passed through this door. I know my way around here, this isn’t my first rodeo, sweets.”

The general had to go once he tried to slam me against a wall and point my own weapon against me. Poor thing was now bleeding out on the floor of an inmate I decided to set free for my own satisfaction. The rows of the cells seemed to be never-ending as I changed the ammunition for my gun once again, leaving a wake of blood in my footsteps, the hallways littered with injured and dying officers since they didn’t understand playing nice would’ve kept them alive. Greedy bastards, when will they learn that the mafia controls everything? Besides, I’m way more skilled than they ever will be. Most cells were empty and my patience was running thin, wondering whether they had fucked me over and led me towards the wrong door and hallway. Maybe Mingi had been already transported from here to a highly guarded prison, from which breaking him out would’ve been way too difficult, but not impossible. Anything for my pookie, besides, Master Song would kill me for getting his son in trouble and abandoning him. So, really, until the enterprise was solely mine, I had to cater to the likes of these dumb and irritating men in power.

My heels resounded in the quietness of the hallway loudly, and I groaned when another cell turned out to be empty. My hands gripped the gun tightly as I made sure to stay alert, well aware that I didn’t have much time before the whole police force and military would rush over us. But I still had two cells to check, so I continued to have hope. My heart stuttered in my chest when suddenly two hands came through the bars lazily, hanging out casually as if he had no worries in this world. The skin was heavily tattooed on both hands, nails painted black and chapped, his thick fingers littered with expensive rings and chunky bracelets that hung around his dainty wrists. With a grin on my face, I sped up, coming to a stop in front of the cell, coming face to face with the familiar image of my lover’s face. His eyeliner was all smudged and his lips were bloody and swollen, yet the attractive smirk was still present on his lips as his dark, and sharp, eyes travelled all over my body. He wore similar attire, all black and leather, his vest low cut and showing off his chest tattoos, the hem of the vest stopping just above his hips to show off their sultriness, his happy trail dark.

“All dressed up for me, sugar?” The deep rumble of his voice had my skin covered in goosebumps and my stomach coiling in lust. God, despite knowing each other since we were kids, I still hadn’t gotten used to the vision he was.

Song Mingi.

He might’ve been a dumb and easily manipulable man, good for his riches and for his big dick, but one look at his attractive face never failed to make me forget my grand scheme for the future. One touch and I’d unravel, one kiss and I had no idea who I was anymore. He was hypnotic and consuming, toxic and violent, but God could I seemingly not walk away and try to fix my life. Not that I had any chance of righting all my wrongdoings, I’ve been too deep into this criminal life to find salvation at this point.

“Come on, baby, won’t you get me out?” Mingi bit his bottom lip as we continued staring at each other, suddenly a dark thought crossing my mind as I smirked, tipping my hat up so that our eyes met.

“Like you did the last time?” If it hadn’t been simply for my wits and smartness, I’d be still rotting away in that godawful prison. Mingi’s expression fell for a second before he chuckled amusedly, quirking an eyebrow up.

“You need no rescuing, doll, I knew you could do it by yourself.” Mingi’s deep tone rumbled through his chest as I took a step towards him. The sirens had gone off at some point, signalling an emergency. I knew we were tight on time, but to make sure we still had some more minutes, I had set off the bombs on all the parked cars in front of the station so that they’d be distracted for a bit longer.

“Really, love?” I tilted my head, stopping in front of the bars in hand reach. Mingi hummed as his hands slipped forward, settling on my hips as he squeezed hard, licking his lips as his eyes stayed on my breasts. We usually wore matching outfits just for the fun of it, but the vest I was currently wearing was bought for different activities, “You want me to believe that? I know you were fucking that blonde bitch while I was fighting off five guards.”

The hiss was sharp as my eyes narrowed at Mingi, who had mastered the perfect innocent expression sometime in the past and was looking at me with it now, “Sugar, I was busy looking over the shipment, you know that. My father had sent a team to get you, but you were already soaking in our bath, waiting for me—”

“You’re full of shit.” I snapped, reaching forward abruptly to wrap my fingers around Mingi’s warm throat. His necklaces were heavy and chunky, but they looked fucking amazing on him. I ignored him for my own sake as I pressed my thumb harsher into his throat, making Mingi swallow nervously, “This is the last time I let you off the hook, Mingi. If you fuck anyone else ever again, I’ll cut your dick off before I take your whole legacy in the family.”

Mingi grinned, licking the corner of his mouth as he leaned forward, thinking he had the upper hand, “You love my dick too much to do that.”

“I’ve met plenty of men with bigger dicks than yours.”

“Let me out.” Mingi’s tone dropped as a fire appeared in his eyes, his jaw clenched. I laughed tauntingly, biting my lower lip as I released his neck while pushing him backwards, our eyes trained on each other. After more than ten years of partnership, we still didn’t trust each other. Maybe it was because Mingi wasn’t as dumb as I liked to think he was, and he could see right through me and my intentions. Maybe it was because I liked to play with him and threaten to fuck him up too often, but neither one of us was a trustworthy person, and I knew Mingi hated it. As if the SMG tattoo sitting on my collarbones wasn’t enough to prove my devotion to him. Nobody would even touch me out of fear now that I was forever branded to him, and I made sure those who did touch him, lost all of their fingers and toes too.

The gunshot echoed loudly as I shot the lock off, who needs a key when you have a gun? I pulled the door slowly open and Mingi remained patient, that is until I stepped in his way when he tried to leave. Without warning, I was slammed against the concrete wall, air knocked from my lungs as his swollen lips pressed against mine bruisingly, one large palm fondling my exposed ass cheek. My moan was swallowed by his desperate tongue as it pushed against mine, fingers curling around my thigh and hiking one leg up so that he could press his semi-hard on into me, groaning at the friction. I sucked at his tongue hungrily, my free hand tangling in his dark locks and yanking on them just like he liked it, making Mingi whine as he rutted against me, fondling my thigh and ass as if he hadn’t touched me in forever. This wasn’t the place nor time for this, but keeping our hands off each other was impossible even after years of being together. I knew things like this turned Mingi on all the time, and I would be a liar if I said I didn’t get a kick out of it too.

“My father will kill us this time, babe.” Mingi mumbled against my lips as he bit my bottom lip, grabbing my hand that held the gun to point it at his temple, “Fuck, I want to be inside you so badly, baby.”

“Fuck me then before they get here,” I provoked him, biting all over his face before I nipped at the skin of his hot neck, “Feel me up babe, see what I have hidden just for you.”

Mingi gulped, eyes hungry as his hands gripped my sides, feeling me up all over my torso and back, cupping both my ass cheeks to hoist me up, forcing me to grip his hips with my thighs tightly. I had all of his favourite weapons strapped onto myself, knowing he’d make good use of them, “You’ll be the death of me one day, Y/N.”

“I know I will.” I smirked, then captured his lips in a frenzied kiss again as we heard shouts closing in on us, “Seems like you’ll have to wait with fucking me, besides, our new jacuzzi was installed today. It would be a shame not trying it out after the day we had.”

“I love the way you think,” Mingi grinned and took his gun from the holster from my waist and lowered me onto the ground, gripping my jaw to tilt my head up, “And I didn’t fuck that blonde, sugar, she stole the watch I had gotten from you and she’s now floating away head down in the river.”

I cackled as the shouts were clear as day now, the officers were here. Oh, how much fun we were just about to have. After sharing one more lustful kiss, our ammunition was cleared without hesitance.

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rainyorca · 5 months ago

Text

Rebirth 𓆗 Kenji Sato x Reader

Content warnings: F!reader, smut, pnv, cunnillings, long form, angst/comfort, no established relationship.

Summary: You aren't the type to date one night stands, however, after a rather compelling night with Kenji, you may reconsider.

Notes: I dropped one of my other works to work on this one, the idea came to me in the middle of the night and is slightly inspired by Love song By Rihanna. This one came from the heart, a little self reflecting in there but I find works where the author can reflect on are often times the best ones, a little bit more significant. Anyways I hope you guys like this one <3 I took a little inspiration from @spurbleu please go read their works!

Words: 7,987

MDNI

°｡ ⋆༺𓆙༻⋆｡ °°｡ ⋆༺𓆙༻⋆｡ °°｡ ⋆༺𓆙༻⋆｡ °

It all started as a simple one night stand, or so you thought. You’re not the type to date your one night stands, as it was something you deemed….inappropriate, just simply not something you're comfortable with. He doesn't really seem like the type to have time for a relationship anyways, given he’s a famous baseball player, which you weren't aware of at first, ironic his face was plastered all over Tokyo but you didn't care enough to pay attention. Why would he waste his time on you? But also, the overall idea of being in a relationship with a celebrity makes your head hurt, you have no desire to be the center of attention, especially with someone like him by your side.

But you always thought about it.

In truth, you always thought about him, whenever you had time to think. You remember the first night he brought you home, you weren't expecting much, given the way he acted when you met him. He was arrogant, egotsictal, but he was cute so you gave him a chance, flirting with him in hopes of getting what you wanted, just a quick fuck and you’d go, like usual.

However, there was a new found deepness in the way he kissed you, the softness and genuine feeling of his touch, the way he would moan your name, or even simply say it. It awoke something in you, made you realize something, you’ve never felt that kind of profoundness before and it uprooted some new feelings in you. That night, you sat awake in his bed, your mind replaying what had just happened.

Even before he gently opened your legs that night the whole experience between getting to his house was incredibly different, a sweetness in his eyes as he watched you admire the vastness of his place. How he would ask questions before to make sure you were comfortable, even offering you something to drink or a quick snack before he brought you to his room. Usually with your other hookups, your hands are already on each other as soon as you get through the door, even in the Uber or ride to someone’s place, but taking a breather before getting into things was nice, significantly better than what you were expecting.

The usual guilt after the climax always hits you, and it did this time just not as strong. You couldn't help but wonder if this is really what you wanted to keep doing, if you wanted to keep hooking up with random people. Another thought slithered its way into your brain, fangs sinking into the organ, intruding your thoughts. This was the most honest, real, one night stand you’ve ever had.

Something about the way he looked at you before kissing you, the way he spoke softly to you the whole night, how gentle he was, and most importantly how he cleaned you up afterwards, gingerly holding your legs apart. You stared at the softness of his face, noticing every little detail from the faint (but visible) eyebags to the beauty mark on the right side of his face, just a little below his bottom lip. His focused expression and relaxed posture made your heart swell, and the way he would praise you while he cleaned you up. Saying things like “you did so good” or “you took me so well.” He even asked about you, how you were feeling while he carefully helped you get your panties back on, mindful of your shaking hands. “Are you okay? Do you need anything?” Questions about you, paying no mind to himself. God, it was torture, from his looks to his mere and genuine kindness, he had you wrapped around his finger and he didnt even know it.

Everything about him was torture.

That morning you awoke to his arms wrapped loosely around your waist, his sharp features softened, a quiet snore emitting from him. You sat up, his arms sliding down to your hips now. Staring outside one of his massive windows, you could see the reflection of you and him on the bed, his shirt fitted over your frame, once worn by him. It made your head throb, your heart ache. You stared at him for what felt like an eternity, still trying to really wrap your head around how you were feeling. Carefully, you slide out of bed, his arms dropping onto the mattress softly. You dress yourself, taking his shirt off and leaving it folded at the end of his bed. As you always do, even for your worst experiences, you left him a note, but trying to figure out what to say to him was difficult. You left without waking him, leaving him with the scent of wisteria on his pillow.

But really, you couldn't lie, you did leave your phone number on the note, saying if he needed anything or wanted to reach out to give you a call. To your surprise, he did, about a few days later. He had asked to meet up again, and you physically reacted. You didn't know if it was excitement or regret for leaving your number, seeing him again, after all this is what you wanted, right? Of course you still went, it would be crazy if you didn't. He had made a nice dinner which you two shared and talked over, it wasn't long after that, his hands were all over you, studying your body and taking in the canvas of your skin, desperate to decorate it with his own colors.

A part of you wanted to believe it wasn't just lust and rather he felt something for you too, but in situations like these it was hard to believe.. And when he moaned your name as desperate and softly as he did that previous time it was like it all came washing over you, cold water splashing onto your face, jolting you awake in the middle of the night. Kenji’s arms wrapped around you again, holding you a decent distance away but you could still feel his warmth. Three in the morning and you were wide awake, staring at his beautiful face, struggling with the viper in your head.

It became repetitive.

Kenji would invite you over, have dinner, maybe even watch a movie or swim in his pools and then he’d bed you again. The more you spent at his place, the more confused you were but the deeper in love you fell. You didn't want to ruin what you two had going on and most of all you were terrified, fear stopping you from asking him out officially. What would he say? Would he laugh at you? He’s awfully arrogant sometimes. Would he end things with you, tell you to leave his house? If you did, would you ever see him again? Aside from the billboards, the Tv ad’s, not being able to see his face in person would destroy you.

But none of that really sounded like him, honestly. You wished you had the confidence, the power to say something, you were confident enough to flirt with him, to get him to fuck you but not confident enough to tell him you wanted to be with him. It was weird, something that seems so easy is so difficult for you to do, you felt like a little girl all over again, afraid to ask your crush out.

So you lay there, always up before him because that viper won't leave you alone. When you get home, you can't help but wonder, hope, that you're on his mind as much as he's on yours. It's pathetic, really. You tried seeing other people when you weren't wrapped around him, but it all felt empty to you, a cold spot on the bed. The others would treat you like any other girl, fuck you, leave you a mess, and then tell you to leave in the morning, something you were used to after spending years of this same cycle, and when they moaned your name it made you want to vomit. Nowadays, you leave before they can kick you out themselves.

And you always notice something about him, he only fucks you in the comfort of his bed. He never bends you over the table or sits you up on the kitchen counter, it’s always in the softness of his white sheets, surrounded by his room. Curtains halfway open, letting light pour in so he can see your face and so you can admire his.

You hated yourself for this, you wished you never got caught up in this lifestyle. You don't even remember why you started, desperate for love maybe, touch deprived? It's all blurry to you now. Eventually, you stopped hooking up with other people, but you stayed with Kenji. Your heart wouldn't let you leave him. And you know, his face has probably been buried in tons of other girls' thighs, even the days when you're not with him. But when he was buried between your legs, mouth working expertly at your core, deep eyes staring up at you, you couldn't help but feel, maybe he gave you better treatment than the others. Your love for him dripped out of your core, seeped into his mouth, staining his tongue, but he was too blind to taste it.

You wanted him, not in a sexual, carnal way but in a loving, passionate, devoted way. You wanted to be in his possession, you wanted to be his girl. You would whine his name, countless times as he reached your sweet spot perfectly, hoping he feels that same shudder, that same tingle when he would moan yours. The feeling of love in just the simplicity of a name.

One night you got home from work, a hectic day weighing on your shoulders, Kenji had texted you, asking if you wanted to come over. You broke down, suddenly, randomly, sobbing into your hands while you sat on your knees. You don't know why you cried, maybe stress from the rough day you had, or maybe it was because of him, oblivious, unaware, him.

“Oh, okay.” he said over the phone, his voice echoing into your ears. “Is everything okay though?” Perhaps he could hear your sniffles, your quiet sobs.

“I’m fine,” you responded, simple and quick. “Just had a rough day.”

He said, “I understand, if you wanna talk about it—-you know I'm here, always.”

You had tensed up, feeling sick to your stomach all over again. He sounded unsure, like he knew you were crying but didnt want to push, like hes never never had to comfort someone hes fucked before, only when theyre sore and hurting. You felt bad, wiping your tears as you tried to settle down after the rather short phone call. Again you were left wondering if he was thinking about you, that viper curled its scaled body around your mind, squeezing.

On the rare nights he would cancel, he was busy and didn't want you coming over too late, he would offer to give you some release over the phone. Always putting your pleasure first, that's what he's done since day one. When he called you that first time, it surprised you, he cared enough about you that he still wanted to help you out in some sort of way. You'd tell him you were fine, to enjoy whatever it was he was doing and usually that would be that. But sometimes he catches you at the right time, when you're frustrated, needing release. He’d talk you through it over the phone, drinking up the sound of your soft moans as you pleasured yourself to his voice. His voice, god. It was the most devastating, siren-like melody you had the honor of hearing. He knew all the right ways, tones, words to get you off. His voice was indescribable, he could literally call you by your name and you’d be on your knees, it always sounded best after his own release. Once you were finished he’d talk to you a little more, at least until you stopped responding, and then he would hang up.

He owned you, he owned your thoughts, your feelings. It was terrible, absolutely terrible.

The real eye opener was a few months into this situationship, after you had gotten rid of your other hookups, right around the time baseball started picking up again. He grew busier so seeing him, being able to feel him after not being able to in a while was rewarding. You remember it so clearly, he was buried deep inside you, his eyes closed and mouth agape as he pushed himself to his release, soft moans and grunts coming out of his mouth. That was when he finally released and upon the bliss, he spoke freely.

“I love you,” he gasped, not once, but multiple times, “I love you—love you….so much.”

That was it for you, really it was. The once tears of pleasure turned into something deeper and you cried in front of him (unnecessary, embarrassing tears you would tell yourself). He didn't realize at first, his head was resting on your collar bones as he caught his breath, settling down from his release. But your quiet whimpers and sobs made him sit up, his expression changing when he saw you crying. He knew it wasn't a cry of pleasure, you were full on sobbing, covering your eyes and wiping them with your hands.

“I’m sorry,” you sobbed, pathetically. “I'm so sorry.”

Confused and bewildered, Kenji cups your face with both hands. “Hey, hey,” he says softly, “no need to apologize, are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

“No,” you choke out, grabbing his hands as he holds your face, “no–” You couldn't even get the words out, it was embarrassing, choking on mucus and struggling to breathe. You weren't sure why you were crying, maybe because you felt bad, maybe because his words set you off, but why?

“Then what's wrong?” he pushed on, his voice as gentle as ever. “You can talk to me.”

You never told him, instead you continued to cry like a baby, until he pulled you into his chest, holding you tight. One of his hands running up and down your back soothing you until your sobs quieted to sniffles and then went silent. He was up before you the following morning, still rubbing your back softly, listening to your breathing, chest stained and damp with your tears. You left your mark on him that day, unnoticeable to the naked eye, but seen by him.

For once, you thought about praying, praying to whatever god there was, up there watching you. It's not like you were asking for the world, you were just asking for him, is he really too much to ask for? A few days later, he had hit you up, asking if he could come over this time. So he showed up at your place, standing in the doorway while the rain pelted down, soaking his clothes and hair.

God he was beautiful, he looked so good standing in the rain you couldn’t even find the words to express it. A tingle goes up your spine, making you shudder, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little turned on right now. That was his effect on you, just merely the sight of him can get you excited, turn you on, sometimes you even questioned yourself if it was your libido making you feel this way, but you knew it wasn’t, it was more.

You gave him a towel to dry off as he looked around your apartment, given it was his first time in here. The first thing he noticed was the smell, your place just smelled like you. It was earthy and floral at the same time, hints of jasmine. He looked at your bookshelf, multiple books of all genres, dusty and showing that they hadn’t been cleaned in a while, a clear give away to the state of your mind. You make him some tea, butterfly pea for yourself and regular green tea for him, setting them both on the coasters of your wooden coffee table. Kenji sat down on your couch, the towel resting on his broad shoulders. You sat next to him, feeling the awkward tension, averting your gaze. His fingers tap on his cup, as if he’s debating on bringing up what had happened a few nights ago, he’s tense.

“So, I didn’t just come here to-“

“I know,” you interrupt him, “I know.”

“You never told me what happened that night,” he continues, cautiously, watching your face for any change. You turn to look at him, pressing your lips into a line before trying to speak.

“It was-“ you stop yourself, “I was just having a rough day, that was it. Sometimes it catches up to me at the wrong times, I’m sorry.” It was a lie, of course it was. You didn’t want to tell him what it really was, especially now of all times. It’s silent for a few moments until he suddenly reaches over, grabbing your face with one of his large, gentle hands, scooting closer to you. “Hey, there’s no need to apologize,” he responds softly, “you should've said something earlier.” He presses a soft kiss to your forehead, rubbing your cheek with his thumb. Moments like these are what makes you feel like there's more to this, more than just the sex but still, you keep your mouth shut.

He’s gotten more stingy with his time, finding it hard to see each other. A part of you wonders if he's chosen to move on after what happened the past week, wondering if he decided to drop you completely. You wouldn't blame him if that's what he was doing, at least he was letting you off easy. His texts and responses were still the same but they became slower and eventually you stopped texting him, it was foolish anyways, pointless. Why in the world would he freely talk to you, waste his time, when you two aren't even together? When you were bored, you would find yourself watching his games on the Tv, or at least whenever they came on. You would focus on him the entire time, ignore every other player, he was your star, your black sheep.

You questioned if he would even enjoy seeing you at one of his games, after all he never invited you, you would have to invite yourself. So you did, the next game you went ahead and bought a ticket, clearing your plans for the night just to watch him play. Your seat was pretty good, you could see his face clearly from where you were sitting. His focused face always made you smile, always made you flutter, he was so indescribably charming it hurt. You kept your cheers quieter than everyone else, but it wouldn't really matter if you didn't, you would be fitting in with the crowd, but a part of you didnt want him to look up and somehow notice you, it would be hard to pick you out of this huge audience anyways.

After the game, you decided to stay, somehow finding where the locker room was, surrounding yourself with wives, even children of the other players, in a way you kinda fit in. You don’t know what motivated you to go there, maybe the ache between your legs? After seeing him play you couldn’t help it, something about a man with ambition, a man with passion.

You were still sticking out like a sore thumb, nervously tapping your foot and feeling uncomfortable, it was obvious, you were just too dumb to realize. Your eyes bore into the door, waiting for him to come out, a new found nervousness filling your soul. “Psst,” someone tries to get your attention, you didn't realize it at first until a lady bumped shoulders with you. You turn to look at her, brown eyes meeting yours. She was older than you, probably around thirty maybe even forty but you dont assume.

“I’ve never seen you before,” she says, voice friendly, “do you know one of the players?”

“I guess you could say that,” you respond quietly, trying to find a way to explain who you were to Kenji but most people wouldn't take “we hook up all the time” as an answer. So you kept quiet until she spoke again.

“Which one? I'm curious.” She pressed on, her tone dripping with some type of underlying excitement.

You clear your throat, feeling a little awkward.”Um, Ken–Kenji, Sato,” you try to keep your voice from sounding too shaky, worried she might assume you're an obsessive fan.

“Oh!” she exclaims, laughing lightly, tossing her head back and gesturing with one of her hands, “I’ve never seen anyone come see him, it's about damn time.”

You can tell she's just joking a little, you smile as a response. “God wow,” she says suddenly, sounding astonished, “you have a beautiful smile, absolutely gorgeous, wowww.”

“Oh,” the random compliment makes you smile a little wider, “thank you.” She nods, looking back at the door but then turning to you again.

“You're a real pretty girl, you know,” she hums, crossing her arms, “and you seem nice, I mean you came to one of his games. Sato must feel really lucky to have you as a girlfriend.”

Girlfriend. That word, the word you avoided for so long, what a terrifying thing to be called.

“Oh, I’m–” you stop yourself, should you tell her or not? What's the chance of her bringing it up to her husband and then he says something to Kenji. “He's not my boyfriend, we’re just friends,” you settled with that, she seemed to be a little surprised and ... .upset?

“Oh but you like him,” you blink at her, the response unexpected, “a mother always knows, I can see it all over your face.”

Warmth spreads over your face, painting your cheeks a gorgeous shade of red and she notices, chuckling to herself. “I’ll tell you what I always tell my daughter,” she says, her tone morphing into something more firm, she turns her whole body towards you now, “it's always good to tell them before it's too late, you never know what’ll happen.”

Were you really about to express your feelings to a random middle aged woman? “But,” you start, shifting uncomfortably, “what if he doesn't like me?” You sound pathetic, like how you did in highschool, crying to your mom because you were confused on why you couldn't love the way others did. You suddenly felt bad for your highschool lover. The real question you should have asked is why do you feel uncomfortable at the mere thought of being in a relationship.

“His loss,” she rolls her eyes playfully, “but all you can do is accept and move on, it sucks and it hurts for a while but it gets better, trust me.”

It was nice talking to her, you don't talk to your mom anymore since moving to Japan, she also just doesn't approve of your lifestyle. Having no friends(too distracted, driven by lust to try) made it hard to get advice or even someone to talk to about problems. Having someone to tell you this made you feel a little better, opened your eyes.

“I guess you're right,” you mutter out, “thank you for the advice.” You smile a close lipped smile at her and she returns it. The locker room door opens and the first few players start to spill out, greeting their wives and children. Her husband comes out next and she turns to greet him, smiling widely as she wraps her arms around him. You can't help but feel envious, until Kenji walks out, hair messy and his bike helmet under his arm. Holding your breath, wondering if you should go up to him, his eyes scan the area, like he's looking for someone, then they lock onto you. You can feel yourself shaking, worried he’d be upset that you're here, especially after not talking in a while. His expression is unreadable for a few moments and then he smiles, you can't tell what type of smile it was. Happy? Surprised? Hiding disappointment? He walks over to you, a mixture between his cologne and sweat wafts into your face when he stops in front of you.

“What're you doing here?” he asks, his tone playful.

“Just thought I’d pay a visit,” you breathe, shoving your shaking hands into your pockets. “You played really well today.”

Before he can talk, the woman from before taps on your shoulder, you look and she quickly hands you a sticky note before smiling at Kenji and then walking off with her husband. Kenji raises an eyebrow, watching the woman leave and then looking at you.

“What was that about?” he questions, chuckling softly. You read the note, squinting at her cursive handwriting.

I can tell by the way he looks at you, he is so in love. Shoot your shot and if you need anything, call me :)

Her phone number was left under those words. “Just a friend I made while waiting,” you respond, shoving the paper into your pocket.

“Making friends now?” he nudges you, making you laugh softly. He must've found out about your loneliness a long time ago, something you both had in common but never spoke about. You walk out with him, passing by the other waiting wives.

And of course, he invited you over and you agreed, almostly immediately. Needing release, from your thoughts (thick scaled viper squeezing at your flesh), from your pent up arousal after not seeing him in what felt like an eternity. You were the one that latched onto him first this time, most commonly he starts it. Sooner than later he has you on his bed, legs spread, one captured between his in an attempt to keep you stiil. He lays on the side of you, fingers buried in your cunt while his lips stay attached to your throat, your arms wrapped around his neck, holding him close. Cries of pleasure spill out your mouth, his name like a prayer on your lips. The sweetness from his kisses stuck on your tongue. Your back arches off the bed when your first peak washes over you, making you sob out his name sinfully as you always do, music to his ears.

“You have no idea–” he grunts, his tip now nudging at your entrance before sliding into you slowly, his jaw clenches until he's fully inside you, “how good it felt to know you were watching me play.”

He practically fucked you like he was thanking you, clearly appreciating your presence. For once your mind didn't wander other places(the viper loosened), too focused on the feel of his cock pressing against your sweet spot and his moans to even think about anything else.

“Fuck,” he sighs, “My girl, my good girl.” Those simple words always made you crazy, a moaning mess in short. It sounded so filthy during the moment but afterwards, when he's bathing in the afterglow, chest heaving, the words leave his lips again, and they sound less sinful, more fond and tender.

The next few weeks you ponder on what that lady had said to you, debating on texting her, asking her for more advice. As baseball started to come to a close, Kenji started having more availability. You started to invite him to more casual things, like coffee at your favorite cafe or a walk in the park just to talk. The whole time he was around you, a permanent smile worn on your face, he talked to you like you were more important than anyone in the world, however your time together was never long. This new feeling bubbled up inside you, happiness for once? Maybe excitement that you finally get to be around him without the sound of skin against skin. You invited him over to your place for some wine one night, sitting in your living room, music playing softly in the background while you two drank until your faces were warm and red.

“Do you see other girls?”

Fuck.

The question came off your drunken lips, a sober thought meeting your intociaxted mouth. You realized shortly after that you fucked up, quickly tensing up and waving your hands dismissively.

“I'm sorry,” you rush, “that just came out, I don't really mind if you do, it wouldn't change anything.” His face was unreadable, but he turned to stare down into his glass.

His response is simple, “No.”

“You're the only one,” he continued after a few seconds, “I stopped seeing other people a while ago.”

Your face heats up as if it wasn't hot enough already, a drunken smile on your lips, unnoticable by him. “Okay, sorry I asked,” you huff, deciding not to refill your glass this time, instead just setting it down on the coaster.

“What about you?”

His question probably catches you off guard as much as yours did. “I couldn't bring myself to do it,” you admit, “I did for a while but then things got complicated, so I cut everyone off, stopped going out to try and find sex and just settled with you.”

The silence is uncomfortable for a moment, until he speaks again. “Why?” simple, just like his response.

You bit your lip, staring at him and then looking away to avoid eye contact. “I….” you didn't want to admit anything now, not when you're intoxicated at least, “I just didn't want to see anyone else.”

He's silent again but then he hums, drinking down the final drops of red liquid before sitting back on your couch. “Come here,” his voice is quiet but strong, beckoning to his side with his hand. You hesitate but slide over to him, laying your head on his chest as his arm comes to wrap around your waist. Thoughts swarm your head (the viper slithers into action once again), but they are quieted when he speaks again (the ear bleeding hiss, silenced).

“I didn’t wanna see anyone else either.”

Mentally you smile, physically you probably made a weird face he couldn't see but you stayed quiet, listening to his heartbeat through his clothes.

𓆙

The thought about what that lady said to you lingered in your mind. You’ve known Kenji for a year now, fucked him for a year now, at this point you shoudlve told him, save yourself the suffering. The winter was long, nights growing ever the more longer, you found yourself reaching out to him for warmth rather than just sex.

And to your surprise, you came home after work to a freezing apartment, your heater had broken leaving you with nothing but sleepless nights in your freezing bed. You had complained to company numerous times until they finally got someone to come by and take a look, and to make things worse, it would take longer than usual for them to fix. You weren't really sure why, you weren't the only one having this problem in the complex, numours people had left because they were taking so long to fix them. Out of options, and exhausted, you called Kenji. You were worried he would decline but he agreed without hesitation. So, you packed up some clothes, your necessities and headed to his house that night.

It was safe to say he was pleased by your company, upon living alone himself, despite having a supercomputer floating around, he still loves you being around. He respected your space, fed you, made sure you knew where everything was. Mina would talk to you when he was gone, you freely asked her questions about him, oftentimes she would give you a schedule of what he had going on today and when he would be home.

Before he would get home from whatever he was doing that day, you would cook for him on your days off of course. He’s a late eater, assumingly due to him coming home late from practice or games, so you always start cooking a few minutes before he arrives. He comes home, smiles when he sees you in the kitchen, walks over to you and snakes a hand around your waist, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead before disappearing somewhere into his huge house. Moments like those made you forget you weren't in an actual relationship, you don't even know what you would call it, friends were too simple, lovers were too complicated. Friends with benefits would be overlooking everything, you two were not close like friends but you two still hung out, had sex, no strings attached they would say. But still, there was never a right label to describe what you and Kenji were, so no labels were used, by either of you.

Sleep was still hard to come to, difficult in such a large bed, you would turn to your side, expecting him to be there but he wasn't. Sometimes you would hear a faint beeping sound, then some rustling outside your room, a low rumble below you and then silence. It happened often, not so often it was repetitive, but often enough it made you curious, too curious.

One night after the rumbling stopped, you left your room, tentatively heading to his room. You opened the door to see his bed was empty, your heartbeat quickened, slowly stepping into his room until Mina called your name from behind you. “Where’s Kenji?” you ask, shutting the door softly behind you.

“His father asked for him,” she says simply, “you should go back to bed.” You were suspicious, there was no way his father was calling him at two in the morning, his dad was old but not that old that he couldn't take care of himself. However, you listened, heading back to your room, opening the curtains of the massive windows to look out at the ocean, something you always found peace in.

And then, you heard him come home around an hour later, hesitantly you go out to greet him. You catch him right as he’s about to go to his room, making him stop in his tracks and stare at you. He takes in your slightly exposed form, all you had on was a shirt and panties, acting as if he hasn’t seen you naked before.

“You’re up?” He questioned, his face confused, he looked guilty of something. You stare at him for a few moments, blinking tiredness out of your eyes until you settle with a sigh, not questioning where he’s been.

“I can’t sleep,” is what you settle with, yawning to make it more believable. A soft smile graces his face, and then he beckons you to follow him, so you do. For once since high school, you sleep in until noon, face buried in his chest, inhaling his intoxicating scent.

You knew something was up, you’ve always been good at figuring things out and Kenji was a terrible liar, also terrible at hiding things in general. You wanted to be respectful, mind your business and not act like an overbearing lover, if that’s what you would even call yourself, but you were desperate to know his little secret. That viper squeezed a little tighter these past few days.

So you waited for him to come home after disappearing, sitting up in his bed with the lamp on, you had grown accustomed to sleeping with him rather than in your own bed, after all it was just a few more days until your heater got fixed and you wanted to savor this feeling as long as possible. Mindlessly scrolling on your phone, watching all the news about Ultraman and the recent, ongoing Kaiju attack. The door opened up to his handsome face, a visible cut on his lip still bleeding. Then it clicked for you, his awkwardness when coming in, the surprised look he had on his face. When he got in bed you hesitated to speak, but then he spoke for you.

“I’ve been keeping something from you,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I’ve noticed…” you respond, trailing off slowly. You watch him seemingly debate with himself mentally, biting his cheek. He wets his lips with his tongue, some of the blood smearing but going unnoticed, he’s vulnerable right now, you tread carefully.

“Kenji, you can tell me anything you know,” you hum, putting your phone down, “nothings gonna change my view of you or whatever.”

“I’m Ultraman,” he blurts, looking more surprised than you. The expression on your face is probably what made him nervous, really he didn’t know what response you would give him.

“Oh,” you say, quickly softening your face, “um well that’s something.” He looks at you, waiting for you to continue. “Still, that doesn’t change anything,” you continue, pushing the blankets off and crawling on top of him, straddling him.

You cup his face, your thumb on his bottom lip, wiping off the excess blood. “You’re still the same Kenji I know,” you sigh, wiping the blood off on your shirt. He makes a face, like he’s surprised but disgusted by what you had done, he starts to smile slowly.

“Being a…twenty foot tall metal man doesn’t change how I feel about you,” your words make him raise a brow and it was then when you realized what you had just said. “And how do you feel about me?” He teases, grabbing your hips to hold on to you, his demeanor shifting slightly.

“The same way I always have,” you quickly try to change the subject, planting a kiss on his lips, “anyways you should get some sleep.” He holds you still, his grip on you tightening as you try to get off of him.

“I’m not tired,” he coos, running a hand up your shirt to feel the bareness of your body.

“Well I am,” you remark playfully, squishing his face with your hand before getting out of his grasp and settling down beside him. You reach over and then turn the lamp off, pulling the blankets back over you and closing your eyes. His secret was safe with you, and the fact that he was so trusting of you made you think, maybe it really isn't just his libido. Kenji stares at your back, a concerned expression on his face before he wraps his arms around you, pulling you in.

Your heater was fixed just a few days later and you left Kenji’s place with a heavy heart, standing in his doorway with your bag in your hand. It was weird, how you felt, that viper had become still for a moment and then it was back, hissing and sinking its fangs into your already hurting brain. You didn't know when you would see him again, but you knew it would be soon.

The night before you left, Kenji had shown you a picture, his face a mixture of emotions. “Who’s this?” you ask, pointing at the woman next to him, it was a dumb question but as stated before, you dont assume.

“My mother,” he responds plainly, the underlying hurt heard in his voice. He’s hurting, you can tell, and he's vulnerable. You dont push, instead you compliment her.

“She's beautiful,” your eyes scan over her still face in the picture, noticing the same, signature beauty mark Kenji has, “I see where you get your looks from.” A soft chuckle escaped his lips, smiling fondly.

The vulnerability he showed while you were staying at his house, made you fall ever more in love with him and it made you sick, the venom seeping into your brain and spreading throughout your body.

𓆙

Rain pours down outside, loudly pelting against the windows, sounding like hail. The sound drums loudly in your ears, making your head hurt for once. The grayish blue lighting seeps into the expansive space of Kenji’s living room, the city fogged and rain wrapped in the distance.

Placed on his lap, legs on either side, straddling him fully clothed, damp from the downpour outside. His clothes sticking to his skin, his chest and torso exposed under the soaked white fabric, visible to your searching eyes. Black panties pressed against his crotch, not in a teasing manner. Your shirt sticks to your skin but loosens as it dries in the chill of the room. Kenji’s eyes, gray and lustrous, staring up at your warm face, strong grip on your hips. His head rests on the arm rest, lifting it enough so he could get a good view of your precious body.

The viper is still, its fangs frozen deep in your consciousness.

His lips part, glossed over from the rain as well as his chapstick, he starts to speak. “You look so pretty like this,” he breathes, reaching up to feel your body, an empty canvas waiting to be painted, to be marked.

You shift, eliciting a rather warm noise from him, a moan in short. His cock desperately wanting freed from the prison of his pants. The fabric of his pants rubs against your throbbing clit through your panties, making you hum a soft tune of anticipation. The viper moves, its teeth itching further into your ruined brain. Chewing on your bottom lip, you move again, a little rougher this time.

“You’re tense,” he randomly points out, making you freeze, “relax, baby.”

“I am relaxed,” you remark, rutting against his clothed cock again.

“No, you're extremely tense, I can see it,” he pushes on, his voice hoarse, “keep your shoulders down.”

“I’m frustrated,” you admit, dipping your head down so all he sees is your hair while you mindlessly tug at his pants. He watches you, lifting his hips so you can pull his pants and boxers down to his knees.

“Then tell me,” he says suddenly, “tell me your frustrations, ride them out on me.”

“Fuck,” you breathe, “I hate you.” You move your panties to the side, slowly sinking down on him with a delightful moan.

He hums, watching you slowly grind against him, his tip already nuzzling against your sweet spot. The viper moves again, this time its scaled body curls around, tears suddenly stinging your eyes. This is the type of sex you liked, sensual, slow, the type he always gave to you. You grab one of his hands, interlocking your fingers together in a warm grasp, letting his hand rest near his head while you use it to steady yourself. “So beautiful,” he purrs, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze, his other still gripping your hips.

“I hate how good you make me feel–” you cut yourself off with a shaky gasp, “and how–how…” He raises an eyebrow, watching you with an amused expression, waiting for you to continue. “Mmhm,” he hums, eyes closing briefly, devouring the feeling of your walls around his cock.

“You stress me out so much and you don't even know it,” you shudder, your body relishing the way he throbbed inside you, poking at your spot, “you really have no idea.” Playful banter at first, at least that's what he assumed, but you couldn't stop talking, couldn't keep your mouth shut.

“So I'm the cause of your frustration?” he asks, his voice sickeningly sweet and playing his part, a melody to your ears. You gasp, lifting your hips and then sinking back down on him again, slow and steady.

“Yes,” you whine hoarsely, “you're on my mind all the time, you have no idea how annoying it is.” His expression softens, going from a small smirk to a slight frown, he’s trying to debate if you were being serious or if you were still being playful.

“I'm on your mind…?” he questions, sounding unsure, a deep groan breaks from his throat.

“Fuck yes, all the fucking time,” theres a throb in your heart, “your like a fucking snake, squeezing my mind—mmmh—making my head hurt.”

“You have no idea how bad I want you,” you whimper, throwing your head back when you feel him suddenly buck up into you.

“But you have me already,” his voice is gentle, as sweet as candy, understanding.

“No, I don't,” you roll your hips, squeezing his hand, “No–” His other hand comes to caress your bare skin, sneaking up your wet shirt, his sounds of pleasure starting to pick up in volume. You clench around him.

“I don't understand,” he hums, “I'm right here, underneath you, feeling your body. I'm real, my love.”

“Don't call me that,” you hiss, “please.” Your plea ends in a whine rather than a firm word, his expression completely changes.

“Do we need to stop?” puzzled, he sounds concerned. “No!” you exclaim, a little louder than you intended. “No, please don't stop, I don't wanna stop.”

He gives you a questioning look, but allows you to continue riding him, your orgasm starting to build up deep within you. “I don't have you, Kenji,” you keep talking, suddenly feeling a whole new wave of confidence, maybe it was your mind torn between pleasure and the truth, maybe you finally realized it's time, “and it's killing me.”

Endearing, that's what he thinks as you ride out your truth on him, spilling from both your cunt and tongue, staining him once again, but this time he can taste it, feel it, bathe in it. “You don't get it,” you sigh, keeping up with a steady pace, trying to bite back moans as you speak to him breathlessly.

He doesn't talk, doesn't say a single word, why would he need to if you can see it in his eyes? He wants to know more, wants you to keep going. “Im tired–tired of this,” heat pools in your stomach, the feeling of release drawing ever closer, “shit..”

“I've been keeping this quiet for so long, too scared to tell you anything because��because I didn't know what you would say or do,” the viper freezes, your orgasm approaching, tears starting to fall down your cheeks, onto his shirt.

A mixture between pleasure and pain falls onto him in drops, he reaches up, wiping your tears with his thumb. You grab his hand, holding it on your face while you start to ride him quicker, desperately.

“I'm in love with you,” you finally say, coming out more as a choked out sob than simple words,”I always have been.” You open your eyes hesitantly, looking down at him, unable to read his face. Expressive as he is, he had no physical reaction, he just stared at you, blankly.

“I’m sorry,” you sob, “I know I just ruined everything, but I needed—fuck—needed to tell you before i dug a deeper hole.” His hand still remained on your face, flush against the warmth of your cheeks. Then he smiles, soft and understanding, a mix of relief in there too.

You erupt into a whiny sob, digging your nails into the back of his hand. Your climax comes over you, a viper shedding its old, dulled, colorless scales into something new, bright, and colorful. Rebirth.

While you're riding out your orgasm, pulling his out of him too, he sits up, quickly adjusting himself, and he captures your lips into a kiss, passionate and heartfelt. Your arms curl around his neck, sobbing against his lips as you kiss him back, your grinding coming to a slow even pace and then stopping completely.

“I love you too,” he says, pulling away from your swollen lips, “as I always have.”

Kenji is a terrible liar, you can see in his eyes, he's telling the truth. More tears well up in your eyes, body shaking, tremors from your orgasm.

And then you cry again, a mixture between happiness and sadness, apologizing profusely as he pulls you in for a tight embrace, your tears staining his shirt that was once soaked with rain water.

°｡ ⋆༺𓆙༻⋆｡ °°｡ ⋆༺𓆙༻⋆｡ °°｡ ⋆༺𓆙༻⋆｡ °

#ken sato #ken sato x reader #kenji sato #kenji sato x reader #⋆｡𖦹°‧ukume!#ultraman rising #kenji sato smut #ken sato smut

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mountainsandmayhem · 7 days ago

Text

BDSMaid - Chapter 8

Series Summary: After recently graduating you take what is supposed to be a job to save money before you go back to university to get your law degree. Your best friend offers you a job cleaning luxury homes for clients you’ll never know. Easy. Simple. Mundane. Until one of your clients is home and everything you felt was missing in your life starts to fall into place. This goes against the NDA you signed and you could get fired. Or worse, you could fall in love. WC: 5.5k TW: I will put them below the cut for those who want to avoid spoilers. This is more of an original character, there have been some descriptions of reader throughout the series. A/N: How can I make a note when I have words?! I'm just so grateful for how many people have fallen in love with this story this year. It's crazy to me that I posted my first fan pic on December 23rd 2023, expecting about 3 people to see it and waking up to 100's of notifications. 2024 has literally been whirlwind, I've made so many wonderful ladies here and have grown more and more confident in my writing abilities. Thank you @lotusbxtch for being my forever beta for this series (probably an unhealthy crutch, but so be it haha). Thank you @for-a-longlongtime for letting me bounce ideas off of you and giving me a new insight to how sweet girl or Joel would think. @mermaidgirl30, @alltheirdamn and @littlevenicebitch69, what would I do if I couldn't scream about this story with you?! Ok eww, I'm done being sappy. Enjoy! Dividers and headers by @saradika-graphics

My Masterlist || Series Masterlist

TW: use of sex toys (vibrator and butt plug)

You

When you walked into your small apartment on Sunday, Odette was wrapped up in a blanket watching TV. She looked you up and down with a knowing smirk. It was pretty obvious based on the way Joel’s sweats and hoodie hung off your body that you were with a man all weekend. So, after she agreed to keep it between the two of you, you told her absolutely everything. It was freeing to finally be able to discuss Joel with one of your friends. The two of you spent almost six hours going over every detail of the last few weeks, and after ordering pizza and splitting a bottle of rosé, you had all the validation you needed. He loves you. And you love him, too.

As the weekend rolls into the week, you still have not come down from your happy, little Joel Miller-shaped cloud. There’s not a single doubt in your mind that he is it. You have never let your walls down with someone like you have with him. It was always easier to just do it on your own; you could always count on yourself. For the first time in your life, you can confidently say that you’re ready to let that go. It’s time for you to let someone take care of you for once. When he texts you on Monday to make plans for the following day, you decide that you’re going to tell him how you feel.

When Tuesday finally comes around, you practically skip up to his house. You have a duffle bag of items in one hand: your outfit for this evening, make up, and a change of clothes in case you spend the night. Wearing his clothing home was fun and all, but you won’t be doing any sort of walks of shame again. Clasped tightly your other hand is your company-provided caddy full of cleaning supplies. Just as you’re about to place the supplies on the front step, the large front door opens.

“Hi, Freckles,” Joel's voice coats every inch of your skin in warm honey. He shines an absolutely knee-weakening smile down at you. As per his usual JMKink attire, he’s in perfectly fitted black dress pants, expensive looking black dress shoes, and a pressed, crisp white dress shirt. The sleeves are rolled to his elbows and your mouth waters at the way his bare forearms look.

“Hi,” you beam up at him, not holding back your ear-to-ear grin as you glow under his attention. “I wasn’t expecting you to be here!”

“I have to leave soon, but I have something for you.” He steps out onto the front steps and grabs everything from you before you follow him inside. You change into the white keds that Jamie gave you on your first day at Maid Discreetly before heading towards where he’s standing in the kitchen. There are three boxes on the kitchen island; two small black ones and one white one that you recognize immediately. He pushes that one towards you first.

“This is your new iPhone,” he says with a wink and you feel your cheeks flush.

“Thank you,” you say shyly.

He shakes his head, “No, thank you for not fighting me on this. That cracked screen...”

“I know,” you say, raising a hand to stop him. You deepen your voice, “It’s a hazard, sweet girl.”

He laughs like he did that night at the Shibari class, deep and from his gut; it’s the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard and your heart swells at the possibility of getting to hear that laugh for the rest of your life. “Exactly. These other boxes…well, they’re for you, but also for me.”

You raise your eyebrows curiously as he slides the smaller of the two black boxes across the smooth marble of the island. His bottom lip slips between his teeth as you pull the top off of the first box. Sitting on a bed of white tissue paper is a small metal plug with a pink heart-shaped diamond on the end.

“Mister Miller! Scandalous!” You gasp, feigning shock and surprise.

He laughs again as he asks, “Is that ok?”

“Very much so,” you respond with a smile before opening the next box, which is slightly bigger than the last. A black, U shaped piece of silicone sits in the box, along with a small plastic rectangle that looks similar to a key fob. “What’s this?”

“That, my sweet girl, is a remote vibrator. I was thinking that maybe you could wear both of those while you clean my house today. I can control that with the remote from a close distance or from my phone anywhere in the world.”

Every hair on your body stands on end as your clit throbs in excitement. “Yes, I would really, really like to do that!”

“Good girl,” he says with a wink, holding a hand out to you. His fingers link with yours and just the slightest touch from him sends sparks up your wrist and straight to your racing heart. He grabs your new toys and leads you up the stairs. Your giggle is laced with arousal when you come to a stop in his enormous ensuite. After placing the toys on the counter he pulls you in, his free hand cupping the back of your neck before he slams his lips into yours. He kisses you hungrily, and you meet his energy, kissing him back as if you’re drunk with passion. His teeth nip your bottom lip as he pulls away. You’re so insanely, maddeningly in love with this man that you almost forget how to stand as he steps back.

“Take off your pants, sweet girl.”

You do as he says, eagerly unbuttoning your company issued black dress pants before sliding them down your legs. He stops you before you remove your thong, breathing out a heady ��fuck’ before hooking his thumbs through the bright pink lacy waist band and sliding them down your legs.

“Put your hands on the vanity and bend over for me,” he instructs with bated breath. He watches your reflection in the mirror, looking right into your soul as always, as you follow his instructions.

You smile lovingly at him, clocking the way his throat works as he swallows hard at the sight of you bending at the waist, pushing your ass out for him. “Fuck, how did I get so lucky? All of this, just for me?”

“Just you, Joel,” you breathe, slipping your bottom lip between your teeth.

He slides open a drawer and takes out two small bottles before turning on the water. He pops the top of one bottle, using the contents to wash both toys, then steps back behind you with the second bottle in and the plug in his hands. A warm laugh leaves your lips, “Always so prepared, Mister Miller.”

“With a pretty little thing like you in my life, I better be.” He clicks the top of the lube open as he continues, “Ready? I’ll go slow.”

“Mm-hm, I’ll tell you if it’s too much,” you coo, your body thrumming with the anticipation of his touch.

“I know you will. No safeword right now, okay? Just say stop, and I will.” He spreads the lube around your tight ring of muscle with his thumb. Every muscle in your body goes slack under his attention and you sigh as your lashes flutter against your cheeks. “Good girl, just relax for me.”

After a few minutes of teasing you with the pad of his thumb he switches to the plug. The cold metal makes you jump. He reassures you by squeezing your hip as he murmurs, “You’re ok, baby.”

He swirls it gently at first, slowly applying more and more pressure before it slips in on its own and you whimper at the feeling. “Does that feel okay, sweet girl?”

“Mmm, yes,” you smile at his reflection in front of you. The amber glow of the LED lighting behind the mirror accentuates the honey flecks in his eyes. Everything about the way he’s looking at you feels overwhelming. It’s like when you first step foot into a hot tub on a cold winter's night. The sting of the swirling water is almost too hot as you sink further in. For a second you consider getting out, but then every single cell in your body adjusts and you can’t imagine not being wrapped in that heat.

“Now this one,” he says, holding up the black u-shaped vibrator. He adds a bit of lube and then guides your hips further back with one hand before kneeling. Your pussy clenches against nothing as you glance over your shoulder seeing him on his knees behind you. He practically whimpers, “God, Freckles, this pussy. She’s so gorgeous.”

A shy smile turns your lips upward. Joel starts to work the toy inside of you and you gasp out a moan. He moves the bulbous head of the toy back and forth until it slips in on its own accord, just like the plug did. Your breathing quickens at the pressure on your g-spot and clit; the toy isn’t even on yet and it already feels so good. Joel’s lips sponge against the globes of your ass, then your hip as he stands. “Are you ok, sweet girl?”

“Yes, Mister Miller,” you respond, your breath catching in your throat as you stand.

“Good. Now put your clothes back on and get to work.”

Before you can bend to pick up your discarded clothing, he pulls you into his arms and brings his lips to yours. The kiss is so soft that it steals your breath, and you almost blurt your feelings for him right then and there. He keeps one arm wrapped tightly around your waist while the other snakes up your body until his large palm cups the side of your face. This kiss, compared to the one from earlier, is different in every way. Where that one was rough and passionate, this one is gentle and almost lazy; a content moan rumbles from his chest. Before pulling away, his warm tongue swipes sweetly across yours.

“See you later, honey,” he whispers, then kisses your forehead and walks away.

Honey, he called me honey. Everything about the last few seconds feels so goddamn domestic, and your potential life five years from now flashes through your mind.

You're standing in this bathroom, getting ready to head to the law firm you work at. Joel, no longer just your dom but also now your new husband, puts a fresh latte on the counter for you, then helps you with the clasp of your necklace before kissing that sensitive spot behind your ear. ‘See you later, honey’.

The rev of Joel’s Jag pulling out of the garage snaps you out of your daydream. You get dressed and walk back downstairs while opening the Maid Discreetly app. To your surprise, cleaning Joel’s office isn’t the first task. Instead, you’ve been asked to wipe down the kitchen, then vacuum the main floor, stairs and upstairs rooms, and finish off by dusting his bedroom. All of it seems very doable in the next four hours, and just when you think you’ll probably be done early and have time to properly get ready for your night out, Mister Miller reminds you that he has the remote to a very distracting detonator.

The first few times the vibrator comes on it’s subtle, just a light buzzing against your clit. It’s enjoyable, almost like a tickling massage, but after almost an hour and half of being gently teased at random you can feel your frustrations start to reach a boiling point.

You: Mister Miller, you’re torturing me Joel: Oh, sweet girl. We’ve only just begun. You: *pouts* Joel: That’s not going to get you what you want. Be a good girl and get back to work. I have a meeting.

You check off the kitchen and main floor tasks and then move to the stairs. You decide to start at the top, sitting on the stair below it and scoot down to save your back. You’re also hoping that the pressure on the toy will make it strong enough that you can finally come. Joel turns the vibrator on again and you whine out in frustration when your plan fails. The slight hum against your clit stops and you mutter something about Joel being a sadistic bastard under your breath and continue your backwards ride down the stairs. As you reach the halfway point the vibrator comes to life at an intensity so strong that you drop the hose of the vacuum and dig your nails into the plush carpet of the stair tread.

“Oh, fuck,” you breathe, squeezeing your legs together as he brings you right to the edge. Your orgasm builds quickly, and just as it’s about to take you, the vibrations stop.

Joel: You better not have come You: Please, Mister Miller. I was so close Joel: Not yet, babygirl

Joel continues this throughout the afternoon. Every ten minutes or so, the black u-shaped torture device inside of you comes to life; always at different intensities and for varying times.

Torture device might be a bit strong, the discarded box of feelings says from the back of your mind. We both know you’re enjoying it. You don’t know when she decided to come back, but at least she’s keeping you honest.

It’s been about three hours by the time you get to your last task of the day. The vibrator buzzes gently as you grab a duster and head into Joel's bedroom. You bite back a smile seeing his bed, the white fluffy sheets neatly tucked in. You can’t help but run your fingers across the soft duvet, remembering how it felt against your skin, remembering how he felt above, behind, below and beside your naked body.

Joel: You doing ok? Do you need to use your safeword? You: I’m okay, Mister Miller. I REALLY need to come, but this is the best day I’ve ever had at work.

When 3:30pm hits, you’ve finished everything in the app, and are so wound up from being teased that you’re fighting from taking the vibrator out and making yourself come. Everytime the vibrator comes on, you break out in goosebumps, the hair on your body standing on end, but when he turns it off, your cheeks flush in frustration and a wave of heat rolls through you. You know Joel will take care of you when he gets home and sees how badly you need it. He talks a big game, but you see the way he folds when you beg.

Joel: I’ll be home in about 40 minutes, Tommy won’t shut up about concrete. You: I need to come so badly, Mister Miller. I’m throbbing, please! Joel: Soon. Just breathe, sweet girl. You can do this.

You need to distract yourself, and you know Joel’s office usually gets pretty dusty, so even though it’s not on your list, you grab your cleaning supplies and slowly open the door. It’s as it usually is: small piles of papers on the desk and a few things out of place on the book shelf. You put the books back and dust the shelves, then run the duster over the blinds before cleaning the window.

Joel: Goddamn, he’s still going on about fucking concrete. How’s my baby doin? You: Horny, I’m trying to distract myself

The vibrator comes to life at the lowest setting. Once again, it’s not enough to make you come, just enough to tease and taunt. You could cry at the frustration of it.

You: That’s not helping, Mister Miller Joel: What’s not? You: Hilarious. Please? Joel: Nope. I love watching you come, hearing the whiny little gasps you make, so not until later

You move towards the desk. Just as you reach to tidy the stack of papers, the vibrations against your clit hit at an intensity you haven’t felt yet today. You fall forward, gasping for breath, as the papers scatter to the floor. You’re about to fall into the pleasure, feel those waves of nirvana that you so desperately need when the vibrator turns off and you’re left with nothing. You bite back an agitated yell.

Joel: See you in less than half an hour, sweet girl. You better not have come. You: I didn’t. I promise.

You’ve never read anything on Joel’s desk before, but you notice a familiar emblem on the first piece of paper you pick up. It’s a short, handwritten note, and as your eyes scan the few sentences, your heart leaps into your throat as your stomach simultaneously falls to the floor. You read through it once and then twice, trying to make sense of the information in front of you. After blinking hard a few times, you read it again.

You feel like you’re being ripped in two.

Joel, Thank you for your generous (and anonymous) donation to the law library. I’ll be sure to find her application and review it myself. See you at the club's anniversary party in a few weeks.

You flip the note over and back again, reading it through one last time. It’s not signed by anyone, just black ink on eggshell white, the University of Austin letterhead at the top. The letter and the room start to spin. You stumble towards his desk chair and breathe through the wave of nausea that hits you; your mind reels at what you’ve just learned. Anger, disbelief and sadness all push against your prefrontal cortex, fighting to be the winning emotion. You want it to be anger – anger is so much easier to deal with. Yelling and telling Joel to fuck off would make you feel so much better, but overwhelming sadness and disappointment ultimately become the victors.

He doesn’t believe in me.

The realization feels like knives along your skin. Everything he said about how you could do it, or that you’d get in…that was all bullshit. He paid for you to get in, and then – and this is the part that hurts the most – he made you believe that you did it all on your own. Your lungs feel like they’re filled with glass as you force yourself to take slow, controlled breaths.

He doesn’t believe in me.

Tears prickle behind your eyes but you force them back. You will not cry, not when you’ve been through this before and came out stronger. Your parents didn’t believe in you, and you proved them wrong, graduating early and making it on your own in Texas for the last four years.

I can prove Joel wrong, too.

You shut your eyes tight. You don’t need him; you don’t need anyone. But if that’s true, why does his sexy smirk flash behind your eyelids? The glass moves from your lungs to your veins; everything hurts, and you scold yourself for letting him get this intertwined in you.

Never again, you tell yourself. Stick to your plan. Law school. Get in with a good firm, pass the bar and become partner; then worry about a love life.

You walk to his bedroom, removing the toys and cleaning them off before changing into the black leggings and beige crew neck sweater you brought. You gather your hair into a claw clip and head downstairs. With your bag by the door and the letter still clutched in your hand you lean back against the kitchen island and wait for Joel.

He doesn’t believe in me.

Joel

The drive home feels like it takes forever; granted, Tommy talking about fucking concrete for almost an hour felt longer. At dinner tonight, he’s going to explain from the beginning. He prepares himself for the worst, for your anger or hurt. He won’t be able to live with himself if he’s hurt you, but anger he can deal with. He knows it’s selfish, but you yelling at him over this would make him feel better.

Finally, he turns into his neighborhood. The sight of your slightly rusty SUV parked on the street spreads a familiar warmth from his heart to his toes. Mine, he thinks to himself as he pulls into his garage. He knows you’re going to be so tightly wound from all the teasing you endured today, and he plans to very slowly unwind you before you go for dinner. The way you fall apart for him is so beautiful, and after almost four hours of being brought to the edge over and over again, he can’t wait to have your writhing and shaking with a simple flick of his tongue against your clit. But first, he’s going to kiss every inch of your skin while occasionally clicking the vibrator on at its lowest setting. He almost trips over your bag as he comes into the house, and when his eyes meet yours, he knows something is wrong.

“Baby?” His voice cracks in concern at the look on your face. He mentally runs through the rolodex of facial expressions he’s seen from you, and he hates that he can’t place this one; it’s not anger or sadness, and it most definitely is not excitement or curiosity. Your soft lips are turned down in the corners, arms crossed and eyes soft. “What’s wrong?”

Your arms uncross and you hold out the letter he should have shredded weeks ago.

His stomach does a free fall. Disappointment. The look on your face is disappointment, and that is so much worse than anger or sadness.

Fuck.

You

Joel walks towards you with slow, measured steps while carding a nervous hand through his curls. You force yourself to continue breathing, fighting against the tears that threaten to appear. He takes the letter from you and rips it in half; you drop your eyes, watching as the two halves of paper flutter to the ground and then slide away from each other along the marble. You shake your head at the symbolism of it, hugging your arms tightly against your body again.

“I thought you believed in me,” you say, trying not to sound as gutted as you feel.

“I do, sweet girl,” he says, stepping so close that his black leather dress shoes line up with your socked feet. You look up as he continues, “I swear I do. You - you got in on your own. Please, just let me explain.”

His eyes line with tears and moments that you overlooked over the last few weeks playback like a movie. The first day in this kitchen he said he knew the dean of admissions. The flash of anger when you went to the Shibari night and his response of “all of them?” when you said you didn’t get in. The way he insisted you open the letters before the anniversary party. He knew, he fucking knew all along that at least one university would accept you. Dread settles in your stomach, turning the shards of glass under your skin to icicles. Berkeley.

“Did you pay off Berkeley, too?”

“I didn’t pay anyone off.” He’s calm but firm in his response, which just seems to piss you off more.

You roll your eyes, gesturing to the ripped paper on the floor and scoff. “Did you pay off Berkeley, Joel?”

The two of you stare at each other for a few heartbeats, and you don’t back down as more tears gather along his bottom lash line. He shakes his head in defeat, burying his hands in his pockets and breathing slowly a few times before whispering, “No.”

“Why would you do this to me? This could have ruined my entire career.” You try to keep your voice calm, but how dare he stand in front of you holding back tears.

“I’m sorry, sweet girl. I wasn’t - I just…I’m sorry,” he flounders.

“Why, Joel?” Your eyes dance along his face. You aren’t sure what justification you're looking for or hoping for. The dream of staying here died the moment you picked up that note, but you can’t go to California without knowing why he did it.

He opens his mouth, shaking his head slightly and then closes his mouth. He takes a deep breath through his nose, blinking away the tears. “Because I don’t want to lose you, Freckles. I should have told you, I was going to tell you tonight. That donation isn’t the reason you got in…you did that on your own. I just…well, I just sped up the process. And I’m so sorry you found out like this.”

You scoff again. “I thought my consent was the most important thing to you.”

His eyes widened in shock. “It is, sweet girl.”

“I didn’t ask you to meddle in my life, Joel. And I certainly didn’t ask you to speed along the process. What happens if I become a Supreme Court judge and someone finds out that you bribed a university to get me?” He goes to speak, but you raise a hand to stop him and continue. “And don’t tell me that you didn’t bribe anyone, because that’s exactly how this looks and you know it. You wouldn’t be looking at me like a guilty puppy if you thought what you did was right.”

His hands come to cup your face. The warm coffee eyes that usually dance rhythmically around your face are replaced by shifting dark glass beads laced with fear and loss. The warmth you normally feel when he touches you is gone. His eyes flick to your lips and then back to your eyes before he speaks.

“Freckles, I lov-”

Your still raised hand covers his mouth, clamping tightly to his face to stop him.

“Please don’t,” you whisper, swallowing the lump in your throat and keeping your palm pressed to his soft lips. Your heart pounds behind your ribs in response to what he was about to confess. If he tells you what you so desperately wanted to hear just hours ago, you know you’ll crumble. You’ll let him take you up to his bedroom and apologize in a way that only he can. You’ll spend the night planning how you can do long distance while you’re in California. You’ll let him interfere with the plan…again.

“Don’t say that to me right now, I can’t hear that.”

He nods into your hand slowly, his eyes soften, and you try to memorize every bit of amber in his otherwise black brown eyes. This will be the last time he looks at you like this, and the realization seems to suck the air out of the room. You wish you could bottle up how it makes you feel when he looks at you like that; the way it comforts you and shuts off the narrated to do list in your mind that’s always growing in your mind.

“Joel, if…if you feel that way, then you’ll let me go,” you tell him, voice just above a whisper. He lets out a shaky breath through his nose, the heat of it warming your hand. One of his hands leaves your face to wrap around your wrist, but he doesn’t pull your hand away or step back out of your grip. Instead, he runs his thumb in small circles along the soft, smooth skin there, and you swear you can feel the whorls of his thumb tattooing themself on you, trying desperately to stay with you forever.

“You’ll understand why I have to go to Berkeley now,” you continue. “I have been working so hard for this. And for years, I have been doing it all on my own. I’m so close, Joel…so close to finishing what I started when I was, like, seven years old. So, please, I’m begging you…please do not finish that sentence.”

You drop your hand from his mouth, his grip going weak as he lets you slip out of his grasp. He looks small, almost deflated in front of you as he stumbles back a few steps. The silence between the two of you feels heavy.

It’s over. Whatever this was, or could be, is over, and you both know it.

When he finally speaks, it’s a sad whisper. “What about when you’re done?”

“A lot can change in three years, Joel,” you respond, mostly to extinguish the flicker of hope in your chest. It’s better for you to push him away now than to hope that he’ll be there when you graduate. No one has ever been there for you, and this is proving to be no different. You step around him and head to the front door, biting down hard on the inside of your cheek as the tears threaten to reappear while you get your shoes on.

“Freckles, wait.”

You close your eyes, facing the door with your hand on the matte black knob. His dress shoes click on the shiny marble before his large hand comes to rest on the door beside your head. This is the exact position you were in after accidentally catching him in his office. You keep your eyes glued to the door and after a sniffle, a quiet clearing of his throat and a whispered, heartbreaking ‘fuck’, he continues.

“I really am sorry,” he says, his voice hoarse. “This is not how I wanted this to go, but you know what you need and I respect your choice. These last few weeks have been so much more than I could have imagined, more than I deserve. You have brought me back, sweet girl. I know you probably don’t believe a word of what I’ve said tonight, and that’s ok, but with you, I felt that pull that I’ve been waiting for. I felt it the minute your cleaning caddy fell to the ground and I locked eyes with you. If you were anyone else, I would have let you run out of here and then had you fired. I chased you and I’ve been chasing you ever since, even though I know you are meant for more and that this could only ever be temporary for you. This was always going to be the end for me and a well-deserved, hard-earned beginning for you.”

He takes a shaky breath in and you open your eyes, but you don’t look back at him. “Regardless of all that, I meant what I said in my office that day. Starting this with you would be it for me. A lot can change for you in three years, and I want you to experience everything in California. But for me, it’s you. It will always be you.”

Your chest feels like it’s going to cave and your knees threaten to buckle. “I have to go, Joel,” you grit out, forcing your voice past the boulder that’s formed in your throat.

“I know, and I’m so proud of you, sweet girl,” he whispers, dropping his hand and stepping back. The heat of his broad body and leather-and-ash scent disappear from behind you, and it feels like you’ve been plunged into freezing, uncharted waters.

You get in your car and drive, unsure of where your final destination will be. After driving around Austin for a while, you find yourself parking outside of the Maid Discreetly office. You take a minute, deciding what you are and aren’t going to tell your best friend before heading in. Jamie’s office is impeccable as always, not a single smudge on the glass desk as she types on her laptop, looking effortlessly perfect.

“Hey, babe!” she says with a smile as you cross the threshold.

“How’s your dad doing with the California office?” you say, trying to act casual.

“Oh my god!” she practically shrieks as she jumps up from her chair. “Did you get into Berkeley?”

“That depends,” you say, raising one shoulder. “Does he have a job for me there?”

“Holy shit!” She runs around the desk and wraps you in her arms. How she can move like that in stilettos is beyond you.

“Careful, you’re gonna break an ankle,” you deadpan. The weight of what just happened with Joel almost dissipates. Jamie pulls back to look at you, her eyes scan your face and you feel exposed.

“Why aren’t you more excited? What’s wrong?”

Shit.

A sob leaves your throat and you collapse into Jamie’s open arms. She pulls you into her office with one arm and closes her door with the other, then leads you to the couch along the far wall. As soon as she gets you seated, you manage to explain everything between sobs and very unattractive nose blowing.

This is supposed to be one of those exciting moments of your life. You did it: you got into the school you always dreamed of and you're moving to California; a place you always felt most at ease in. Yet, it’s all clouded over by having your heart wholly shattered by a man that you actually thought was going to be the love of your life. Someone who showed you he cared, showed you that he’d always be there.

But it was all a lie.

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