#i'm dropping hints we are mutuals

[infelicet]

(no stopping here we go!)

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

The contract

Lewis sat at the restaurant table, his fingers drumming nervously against the wood. The soft hum of chatter surrounded him, but his mind was too occupied to notice. He still couldn't believe the situation he found himself in. Moving to Ferrari was supposed to be a dream come true, a chance to finally clinch that elusive eighth championship. But the fine print in his contract had revealed a clause he never saw coming—one that required him to fake date the daughter of a principal investor.

Desperate times called for desperate measures, and Lewis had reluctantly agreed, hoping it wouldn't interfere too much with his focus on racing. He had avoided learning anything about her, even refusing to see a picture. Now, as he sat waiting for her, he was regretting that decision.

He scanned the room nervously. Was she the tall blonde at the bar? Or maybe the woman with braided hair near the entrance? Each time he tried to guess, his anxiety grew. He wasn't used to feeling this uncertain, especially outside the car.

Suddenly, he caught movement in his peripheral vision. A woman approached his table, her steps light and graceful. She wasn’t the tall blonde or the girl at the entrance. No, she was something entirely different—shy-looking but undeniably gorgeous, with an aura that drew him in immediately.

“Hi,” she said softly, her voice warm but tentative as she took a seat across from him.

Lewis was momentarily speechless. She wasn’t at all what he had expected. There was a softness to her, a vulnerability that made him feel oddly protective. He struggled to find the right words, aware of the awkwardness of the situation they were both thrust into. “Hi,” he finally managed, his voice sounding more relaxed than he felt.

They sat in silence for a moment, both unsure of how to begin. It was clear that neither of them had wanted to be here, yet they were tied together by the whims of their circumstances.

"I'm Lewis, but you already know that," he began, a hint of a smile forming on his lips as he tried to break the ice. "This…isn't exactly how I imagined meeting someone."

She returned his smile, though it was laced with a bit of sadness. "I know. Trust me, this isn’t how I imagined it either. I’m Y/N."

Lewis nodded, the tension easing slightly as they exchanged names. He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a more sincere tone. “Listen, I know this whole thing is awkward and not what either of us wanted, but I think we should try to make the best of it. Maybe we can at least be friends?”

Y/N looked at him, her eyes softening. There was a moment of silence as she considered his words, then she nodded. “I’d like that. I don’t want this to be harder than it has to be.”

Lewis felt a wave of relief wash over him. He hadn’t known what to expect from her, but he was glad she was open to making the best out of their situation. “I’ll be honest,” he continued, “I didn’t ask for anything about you, not even a picture. I guess I was just… trying to avoid the whole thing. But now that you’re here, I’m glad it’s you.”

A blush crept up her cheeks, and she looked down at the table, a small smile playing on her lips. “I didn’t know what to expect either. My father… well, he didn’t exactly give me a choice in this. But… I’m glad it’s you too.”

The tension between them began to dissolve as they shared a moment of mutual understanding. Despite the forced nature of their relationship, there was an undeniable attraction between them, something unspoken that they both felt but didn’t dare to acknowledge just yet.

“Let’s try to make this as painless as possible,” Lewis suggested, his voice lightening. “And who knows, maybe it won’t be as bad as we think.”

She met his gaze, her eyes filled with a mix of hope and uncertainty. “Yeah,” she agreed softly. “Maybe it won’t be.”

From the moment the paparazzi caught them at that restaurant, the world knew Lewis Hamilton had a new girlfriend. The headlines were relentless, splashing their faces across every gossip magazine and sports outlet. Ferrari’s phone call had come the next morning, their tone brisk and businesslike, confirming that the ruse had worked. The deal was sealed—Lewis had his seat, and Y/N was now officially his partner in the public eye.

Their newfound status as a couple meant they were seen everywhere together. Fashion shows in Copenhagen, the Olympics in Paris, and now, the paddock—a place where Lewis felt most at home, and Y/N was gradually getting used to. As they arrived, hand in hand, cameras flashed and reporters clamored for a closer look. The media was eating it up, fascinated by the unexpected pairing of the famous racing driver and the enigmatic girl who had captured his heart.

Y/N felt a little out of place among the chaos of the paddock, but Lewis was by her side, his presence reassuring. He kept a firm but gentle hold on her hand, guiding her through the maze of people and flashing cameras. She was surprised by how protective he had become, how his hand would instinctively move to her back when the crowd got too close, how he’d position himself slightly in front of her when the press got too aggressive.

They had spent a lot of time together lately, partly for the cameras, but also because they had genuinely started to enjoy each other’s company. Over countless dinners, late-night talks, and shared moments in the back of chauffeured cars, they discovered they had more in common than either had expected. Y/N’s career as a musician had taken her around the world, performing in orchestras from London to Tokyo. Music was her passion, and it was something that Lewis could relate to on a deep level.

“I didn’t know you were so into music,” Y/N had said one evening as they sat in a quiet corner of his hotel suite, a jazz record playing softly in the background.

Lewis had smiled, leaning back into the couch. “It’s one of the few things that helps me relax. When I’m not racing, I’m usually listening to something or trying to learn a new instrument. I’m nowhere near your level, but I love it.”

That shared love of music had become a bridge between them, something that felt real in the midst of everything else that was staged. And now, as they stood in the paddock, surrounded by the roar of engines and the bustle of the racing world, it felt like a piece of that connection grounded them in the whirlwind of their public lives.

Y/N looked up at Lewis, his face partially hidden behind sunglasses, his jaw set in that determined way she had come to recognize. “You alright?” he asked, his voice low enough that only she could hear.

She nodded, offering him a small smile. “Yeah. It’s just… a lot to take in.”

He gave her hand a squeeze. “I’ve got you,” he said simply, and she believed him.

As they moved through the paddock, stopping occasionally to chat with team members or sponsors, the romantic tension between them was palpable. Every time their hands brushed or their eyes met, it was as if the world faded away for a moment, leaving just the two of them. It was confusing, this pull she felt toward him. The relationship was supposed to be fake, a means to an end, but the way he looked at her sometimes made her wonder if there could be more.

Lewis, for his part, was wrestling with similar thoughts. He had agreed to this arrangement out of desperation for that eighth championship, but he hadn’t expected to care about Y/N as much as he did. He found himself wanting to protect her, to shield her from the pressures of the spotlight. And every time she smiled at him, every time she laughed at one of his jokes, he felt that protectiveness deepen into something more complicated.

As they walked past the Ferrari garage, one of the mechanics waved them over. “Hey, Hamilton! Bringing us good luck with your new charm?” the man joked, giving Y/N a friendly nod.

Lewis laughed, pulling her closer. “She’s the best good luck charm I’ve got.”

Y/N blushed, but she couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face. The mechanic grinned and went back to his work, leaving the two of them alone for a moment.

“You really don’t have to do that,” Y/N said softly, looking up at him. “You don’t have to keep pretending even when we’re not in front of the cameras.”

Lewis turned to her, his expression serious. “I know. But it’s not just for the cameras anymore. I want to protect you, Y/N. This world can be… overwhelming, and I don’t want you to feel like you’re in it alone.”

Her heart fluttered at his words, the sincerity in his voice undeniable. “Thank you, Lewis,” she whispered, feeling the weight of his gaze.

He smiled down at her, his hand lingering on her back, and for a moment, the chaos of the paddock disappeared again. It was just them, standing together, closer than they ever thought they would be. The lines between what was real and what was fake were beginning to blur, and neither of them knew what to do about it. But for now, they were content to let things unfold, taking each day as it came, with the unspoken hope that maybe—just maybe—this could become something more.

If you've enjoyed part 1 here's part 2 of the story:

https://www.tumblr.com/swiftiethatlovesf1/759708438423060480/omg-i-loved-the-contract-fic-so-much-do-you-plan?source=share

[senascoop]

☁︎ . , LOVER , S.JY ! ☁︎.

PAIRING: colleague ! jake × chef ! afab reader. . SYNOPSIS: what started as a simple dare—dating jake for a day—turned into something much deeper than you expected. what was meant to be a playful challenge from your mutual friends quickly spiraled into genuine feelings, leaving both of you questioning whether it was just a game after all. . GENRE: fluff. . WORD COUNT: 1.7k

m.list. enhypen mini series

The kitchen was quieter than usual, save for the soft hiss of noodles sizzling in the pan and the rhythmic clatter of utensils. You and Jake were alone, finishing up for the night, the scent of garlic and chili oil filling the air. Stirring the pot, you wiped the sweat from your forehead, feeling the heat not just from the stove, but from the tension that lingered between you both.

"Jake," you called, turning slightly toward him, your voice low over the sound of the crackling pan. His attention shifted from the loaded potatoes he had been taste-testing, his eyes locking onto you. For a second, the air felt heavier, your heartbeat quickening without explanation.

"Shouldn't we use pet names if we're dating for a day?" Jake's voice broke through the stillness, teasing but laced with sincerity. He moved closer to you, the space between narrowing. His lips curved into a small, mischievous smile as he added, “Like... can I call you baby, sweetheart, darling... or anything you'd like?”

The question caught you off guard. "What?" You choked, nearly dropping the spoon into the noodles, the spicy kick from the chili oil making your throat burn. Your cheeks flushed instantly—was it from the heat of the stove or his question?

Jake's reaction was swift. "Careful," he murmured, his tone softer now. He reached out and handed you a glass of water, his fingers brushing against yours as he placed it in your hand. The touch was gentle but electric, sending a shiver up your arm.

You quickly took a gulp of water, hoping it would cool the rising temperature within you, but Jake was already standing next to you, his hand lightly patting your back in an effort to soothe you.

His touch lingered longer than necessary, the warmth of his palm against your spine making you even more flustered. You tried to focus on the noodles, stirring them mechanically, but his presence was magnetic, drawing your attention away from the task at hand.

"Are you alright?" His voice was low, almost a whisper, his eyes scanning your face, concerned but with a hint of something else—something more.

You couldn’t decide what was making your heart race more—the chili oil's heat or Jake’s closeness. The way his hand rested on your back, his lips so close to your ear, made it hard to breathe. You let out a nervous laugh, feeling the intensity of the moment suffocating you.

"Y-Yeah... I'm fine," you muttered, trying to regain your composure, but your voice betrayed you, shaky and uncertain. You forced yourself to focus on the food again, your hands trembling slightly as you lifted the noodles from the pot.

Jake leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. "You sure? You look a little... flustered," he teased, his voice dripping with playful confidence. The way he said it, as though he knew exactly what he was doing to you, made your stomach flip.

Your mind raced. Was this really just a dare anymore, or was there something more brewing between you two—something that had nothing to do with a challenge set by your friends?

The evening air was cool against your skin, a stark contrast to the warmth radiating from Jake's arm casually wrapped around your waist as you walked side by side. The two of you meandered down the street, eating your ice cream as if this was a regular thing—a couple out for a stroll after dinner.

But the weight of the dare hung in the back of your mind, making every brush of his hand against your side feel more intentional, more charged than it should be.

Jake’s fingers lightly tapped your hip in a playful rhythm, his thumb occasionally grazing the fabric of your shirt, sending little sparks of awareness up your spine. You tried to focus on the cold sweetness of your ice cream melting on your tongue, but it did little to distract you from the way he held you so effortlessly close.

“We have a lot of chemistry, though,” he said, his voice light but with a teasing undertone, his eyes flicking to yours as if testing the waters. “Why don’t we date for real?”

The question hung in the air, and you couldn’t tell if he was serious or just messing with you. A flush crept up your neck, and you looked at him, wide-eyed, trying to read his expression as he nonchalantly licked his ice cream.

“Date? For real?” You repeated, a laugh escaping you, more from nerves than anything. “You’re joking, right?” You took a more careful lick of your ice cream, hoping to hide the awkwardness that settled in your stomach. But your voice was quiet, unsure, and you could feel the tension between you both shifting.

Jake’s gaze never wavered as he tilted his head, a knowing smile playing on his lips. “I’m serious,” he said, stepping slightly in front of you, stopping your walk.

The two of you stood in the middle of the path, and the way he looked at you—his eyes soft but steady—made your heart race. “I’ve seen you stare at me. Every time we’re in the kitchen together.”

Your breath hitched slightly. “No, I don’t,” you mumbled, glancing away quickly, but he was already in front of you, blocking your path, his closeness making it impossible to ignore the pounding in your chest.

Before you could say anything more, Jake reached out, gently pulling the ice cream from your lips, his fingers brushing against your skin as he held it for himself. Without hesitation, he brought it to his own mouth, taking a bite from the very spot you had just been eating.

“That’s gross!” you muttered, your cheeks burning as you watched him shamelessly take another bite of the now half-melted popsicle.

He just smirked, shrugging as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “Really?” he asked, raising an eyebrow in playful defiance. “I don’t think it is. You’re my girlfriend, after all.”

“Just for a day,” you reminded him, your voice softer now, trying to bring the conversation back to the reality of the dare. But the way he was looking at you—the way he kept effortlessly challenging the boundaries of the game—made you feel like there was more to this than just a day-long act.

Jake’s smile widened, his eyes gleaming with something playful yet sincere. “We can change that,” he teased, popping the rest of the ice cream into his mouth, not caring in the slightest that it had your saliva all over it.

Your heart skipped a beat as you watched him, your mind racing. Was he still just teasing, or was there something more behind his words? Either way, you couldn't ignore the way his presence made you feel—like the line between dare and reality was blurring faster than you could keep up with.

Jake held the half-melted ice cream closer to your lips, teasingly slow, and you leaned in, ready to take a bite. But just as your mouth was about to close around it, he swiftly pulled it away, and before you could even register what was happening, his lips were on yours.

The world seemed to come to a halt. Your heart stuttered in your chest, eyes widening in shock, but your body refused to move. His kiss was soft, almost hesitant at first, but there was something more behind it—a quiet yearning, a question he wasn’t brave enough to ask aloud.

And instead of pushing him away like your brain screamed at you to, you found yourself melting into him. The warmth of his body pressed against yours, the cool breeze contrasting with the heat rising between you two, and the faint taste of ice cream lingering on his lips—all of it kept you anchored in place.

When he pulled away, his lips curved into a grin so playful and boyish, it was impossible to be mad at him. He looked at you like a golden retriever who just got away with mischief. "Hit me if you hate it," he challenged, his voice a low murmur, the glint of amusement in his eyes daring you to act on your earlier defiance.

You raised your hand, almost instinctively, but it hung in the air. How could you? Not when your lips still tingled with the memory of his kiss, not when the taste of him was still lingering, not when a small part of you—one you hadn’t even realized existed—wanted him to do it again.

Jake’s grin widened, his confidence growing as he watched you falter. "I take it as a yes then, chef," he teased, his voice light yet filled with something deeper. The ice cream had started to melt, dripping down his fingers, but he didn’t seem to care. His attention was fixed solely on you.

Before you could say anything, he leaned in once more, stealing another quick peck, as if he couldn’t resist. His lips brushed yours fleetingly, a ghost of a kiss, but it left your heart racing all the same.

"Jake," you muttered, trying to sound annoyed but failing miserably. He chuckled softly, his breath warm against your cheek, the sticky ice cream forgotten as it dripped to the ground.

"Just admit it," he whispered, eyes dancing with mischief. "You don't hate it."

"Well... maybe..." you muttered, the corners of your lips curving into a shy smile as you tried to keep your gaze steady. Jake’s grin widened, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes as he washed his sticky hands in the nearby sink.

When he finished, he turned back to you, the playful glint never leaving his eyes. Without a word, he wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you close. His touch was warm and firm, and the proximity made your breath hitch.

"So it's final then," he murmured softly, leaning in with a teasing glint in his eyes. As he spoke, he gently pecked your lips again, his kiss lingering for just a heartbeat longer than expected.

The light brush of his lips against yours, the warmth of his embrace—it all blurred the lines between the dare and reality. You weren’t sure where the game ended and where your real feelings began. The kiss had been light, but it carried a weight of sincerity that you hadn’t anticipated.

"Girlfriend," he whispered against your lips, the word almost a promise, but his grin remained playful. You stared at him, your heart fluttering, unsure if the kiss was just part of the dare or if something more was starting to develop between you two.

taglist : @moonpri @chexnluv @iconchae @wensurr

masterlist.

enhypen mini series.

© senascoop | tumblr

[oreo-creampie]

𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧’ 𝐦𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐳𝐲

𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 • You decide to take things further with Toji for the first time.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 • non-curse au, daddy/princess/doll/sweetheart, heavy praise/teasing/encouragement, teaching/orruption/ virgin kink, mutual masturbation, you just soften him up a little babes he can't help it look at yourself, that being said he wants to rough you up virgin or no, age gap, collage student!f!insecure!early 20s-reader, mid-30!dilf!toji, hints of pussy eating, pussy sleeve toy, flavor lube, squirting, toji talking is filthy as always, massaging and fondling his cock and balls, he kisses your pussy once, light manhandling

𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡 • 2k

𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐟𝐞𝐲: this has been in the drafts too long, I couldn't bring myself to delete it so I polished it up a tad bit and it is what it is

Breaking the kiss, you attempt to steal your nerves whilst catching your breath. "I...Iwantyourcock." You can't bring yourself to grab him. What if you did it wrong? And turned him off by hurting him, or by being unattractive?

Several insecurities steaming from your inexperience and presumed inability to measure up to those of Toji's past. "You look unsure. What's wrong sweet cheeks?" He could read you too well after five months of dating.

Toji squeezes your hip, cupping your cheek. You lean into his warm, rough palm. "Nothing's wrong just nervous." He peers deep into your eyes, searching for the truth.

"We can stop anytime you like but we can't take back what's been done." His sweet, passionate kiss is too short for your liking. "Whatever it is lemme take care of it for ya."

The hope of reassurance from the man you adore and trust makes it so much easier to crumble. "I'm gonna do something wrong." All the insecurities you've been holding at bay overlapping. Tears sting and blur your eyes.

"I'm not pretty, surprised you're still with me, and I won't be as good as-" Toji's cuts you off with a brief rough kiss. You tug on Toji dark hair, sliding your hand down his hard pecs. You fiddle with a button on Toji's black button-up shirt.

Toji wraps an arm around you, carrying you toward his bedroom. You cling to Toji, pressing your squishy body to his muscular one. Enjoying the contrast, and how secure it makes you feel to be carried by Toji.

"That's my beautiful girlfriend you're talking about." Toji drops you onto his bed, stepping back. "Don't care who you are, there are repercussions for anyone disrespecting my girl." Your gaze dips lower with each button Toji undoes. Showing his beautiful sculpted abs you found are sensitive to being kissed and bitten.

You sit up. "What are you gonna do?" Bitting into your bottom lip when Toji grabs his zipper. A cocky smirk etching into his face when he opts for fondling himself through his jeans.

"Nothing but you're gonna be a good girl for me. 'n you're gonna tell me what turns ya on while touchin' yourself." You stand up, turning around and bending over when you slide your panties down your legs. Kicking them back towards Toji.

You stand, your flowy skirt hiding your soaking wet cunt. "Wanna be your baby mama daddy." Reaching back, unzipping your dress with trembling hands. Expecting Toji to scoff at you.

Your cunt gets wetter from Toji's deep groan. "If keep calling me daddy, ya might be." You hear the clink of Toji's belt coming undone. "Turn around n’ look at your Daddy." You take in a shaky breath, your tongue too heavy in your mouth to speak.

He has your underwear in his hand, licking your slick off. Groaning at the taste, "Your beautiful virgin pussy tastes so good." He gives you an idea.

You slip your straps off your shoulders. Sliding your dress down as he does his pants. He wonders, "Does it turn you on thinking about settling down with me? Wanna be my wifey that badly?" When you nod he coo, "Aw ya warmin' up my cold heart doll." Slipping your finger past your lips, coating them.

Holding your fingers to his lips, "Want me to taste more of your soaking cunt? Ask nicely." There is a dark wet spot, his light gray underwear giving a mouthwatering outline. Cupping Toji, fondling him through his underwear.

He grabs your wrist but loosens his grasp as you massage his cock. You can't get the words out "If want to have your cunt filled with my warm cum, have it fucked deep into your guts you'll have't speak to me." Slipping your hand into his underwear. His warm, soft yet hard in your hands. His cock head is wet with smeared pre-cum.

You're wondering how it's easier to act than to plead. "Please Daddy taste my pussy" your voice drops, "fill me full of cum." Dragging his tongue up one of your fingers.

He demands, "Louder princess." He arches a brow and with more volume, you plead,,

"Please Daddy I want you to taste my pussy and fill me full of cum." He takes your fingers into his mouth. Eagerly cleaning your fingers. You slip your hand down, massaging his balls. He slips your fingers out with a pop.

"Your hand is so soft on my cock n' balls. But-" He pulls your hand out of his underwear, pushing you down onto the bed. Spreading your legs roughly, giving you a thrill of excitement.

He looks like on he's on the verge of ravaging your soaking cunt with the hungry almost feral way he looks at your pussy. You fight the urge to cover yourself up underneath Toji's studious gaze.

His scarred lips spread into a wide, cocky, hungry smirk. "Whose virgin pussy is this?" He covers your cunt with his large palm.

It's getting easier to whine, lust clouding your mind. Edging out your anxiety. "Yours Daddy. All yours. Use my virgin pussy to make you feel good." You can't hold your head up when he rubs his palm into your clit and lips. Between having someone else touch your pussy for the first time and the toe-curling pleasurable friction you can't think.

"Baby I just touched you and already you look like you loosen your mind. Such a beautiful, sensitive little virgin cunt pretty n' wet for me mama." He moves his hand to kiss your puffy clit.

Whining when he pulls away. You lift your head watching Toji walk to his dresser, where he pulls out a bullet-shaped toy. It springs to life vibrating, gently humming in his hand.

"Have you used one of these?" His cocky smirk makes it hard to think of little else other than the curve of his lips. The angular shape of his jawline and his narrow, dark brown eyes.

Toji groans, fondling his cock through his underwear. "The way you look at me doll, are you hungry for daddy's cock?" Closing the gap between, grabbing your chin, tilting your head back.

"Answer me mama. I'm being patient for your first punishment but eventually that will run out." He lets go of your chin, holding the vibrating toy out to you. Hesitantly taking it from him.

You huff, "First punishment?!" Furrowing your eyebrows, protesting, "But I did nothing!" He tilts his head to the side, confusion momentarily taking over his features.

Toji drops his underwear, pushing it to the side. "Did my darling forget you talked shit about yourself earlier?" His veiny, thick-hanging cock has you barely paying attention to anything else but his words.

Could he fit? Much less could you wrap your hand around him?

You want to grab him, kiss him, and bite his thigh. "When you throw a tantrum because you're moody or if you disrespect yourself, you'll get punished. Those are my first two rules." Toji grabs your chin, lifting your head. Tearing your gaze from his thick muscular thighs, fat cock, and large balls.

He grabs his cock, lifting it to your lips. "Princess the way you're lookin' at me is boosting my ego. I've been aching to fuck the shyness outta ya." Opening your mouth, sticking your tongue out.

Tempting Toji into touching you more, he glides his cock past your glossy lips. "Fuck I can't help myself. Suck in your cheeks, keep your teeth away, relax your throat." Sticking your tongue out, hallowing your cheeks. Looking up at him with watery eyes, gagging when he goes too deep.

The thought of him using your mouth to get off clouding over your nervousness. The second he stops moving you bob your head. Eliciting a loud groan of, "That's it, good girl, makin' me feel so nggg." His groans are getting rough raspy undertones making your cunt wetter.

"I wonder what crude things you're gonna say when I fuck the shyness outta ya." Tighten your grip on the pulsing toy, dipping it between your legs. You quickly jerk it away.

Toji croons, "Is my princess cute little cunt too sensitive for the toy?" Shoving your head down, forcing his fat, veiny cock into your throat. "That's too damn bad, hold it there." Touching the toy to clit. Whimpering around Toji's cock, curling your toes into the plush carpet sticking out from beneath the bed.

"Don't care how many times you cum if I see you take the vibrator off your clit one more time I'm slapping both your cheeks ten times with my belt." Lightly touching your clit, tensing up, jerking your hips back. It's a struggle to keep it on your clit.

The painful pleasure is beyond anything you felt cumming because of your fingers. Toji croons, "More pressure than that, don't fight the pleasure you can handle it princess. Ngg Such a shame I have to punish ya, when all I want to eat your pussy till she sloppy n' sensitive." He slips his cock out and crouches in front of you.

"But that will have't wait till you understand how beautiful you are." He groans "Never seen a pussy so beautiful to get me drunk on sight." His praise emboldens you to spread your lips apart for him.

"So fuckin' gorgeous, good girl, you already know what daddy wants to see. Mm fuck she's so beautiful clenching, looks like she's throbbing just aching for me to fill her up." He drags two fingers along your lips, gathering slick.

"Too bad I can't eat ya out mama. Such a pretty little virgin pussy, I should want to be gentler with ya. But it's makin' me feral, wanna ruin her, do things you've only read about and seen in porn." He grabs your thighs.

"Wanna be mean and feel your unstretched virgin pussy squeezin' my cock." His filthy words getting you off. "I'm strong enough to make my fat cock fit no matter how tight your little virgin cunt is. It would hurt you so much till I fuck her loose. You would look so beautiful cryin'." Your trembling, your tight cunt dripping cum before his eyes.

The thought of mean, angry Toji fucking you like he hates you is exciting and intimidating.

"It's getting so hard to think straight just lookin' at your pretty cunt. I'm going to make her cum even harder with my dick." He doesn't stop there his thought driving back to his sadistic fantasies.

"The thought of you tryin' to run away from my cock is drivin' me crazy. Wanna pin you down and fuck you into submission. More so I want to make you feel good, I never want to do anything you aren't comfortable with." He stands up, heading for the same drawer, pulling out a clear sleeve, big enough to fit his cock.

You're aching to pull the toy away from your clit. The pleasure is too much. "Daddy!" Willing yourself to withstand the intensity of the toy. If you couldn't take this, then how would you handle your massive boyfriend's oversized cock.

He has the type of cock you only see in videos. It's the type of cock that ruins a pussy for any other cock. And he is going to be your first.

You plead with Toji, "I'll be a good girl for you! I can handle your big cock daddy." He pulls out a bottle, pouring a clear liquid into the sleeve.

"Can you princess?" He sticks to fingers into it, and you've never been so jealous of an object before. "Yes! Daddy I can handle anything you give me. Wanna please you." Your whiny needy voice barely sounds familiar.

He slips his fingers out. "You're such a good little princess so eager to please. You'll be such an easy service sub for me to train." Bringing it over for you to look inside.

He smiles. "Aren't I lucky to get the chance to be your daddy dom." He holds the toy out for you to see. Recognizing the pussy sleeve from videos of muscular men similar to Toji jerking their cocks off with them. The outside of it is a replicate of fat, thick lips, and a puffy clit.

"You have't till I cum to convince me you know how beautiful you are. I want you to watch me fuck it while thinkin' 'bout how deep I'm gonna be in your guts." He spreads the fake lips apart, holding it closer to your lips.

"Put some flavored lube in it, go ahead n' taste." It smells sweet and fruity. Sticking your tongue into it, your nose touches the faux clit.

Toji croons, "Good girl, how does it taste? Hopefully good, 'cause you'll be drinking it with my cum." He pulls it away to line up with his cock. He glides it down his cock, tilting his head back, closing his eyes, and groaning.

"I wanna touch you." You want to be the one to draw pleasure reactions from him. To make him feel so good that his eyes roll back and his body shakes from overstimulation.

Toji insists with a taunting smirk "Shoulda thought of that 'fore shit talking n doubting yourself." Rolling his hips, turning the side showing his thick veiny cock gliding into the toy. "Nng going to stretch your sensitive soaking cunt with my fingers after you drink my cum."The clearness of it lets you see how deep he is reaching.

He's going to reach inside you, stretch your pussy out, and leave his warm cum deep inside you. "You've been blue-balling me for so long if I don't jerk off first I'm going to bust the moment I slip your sexy little super soaker." Your thoughts, his words, the sight in front of you, and the sensitivity of your pussy as you cumming again so quickly.

Your cunt spasming, thick clear cum squirting from your cunt onto the floor, and his bed. "Are you going to cum from watching my beautiful cunt make a mess?" He drops to his knees.

His voice is rough as he orders "Keep talking about your beautiful pussy sexy mama or I'm stopping." He grabs the toy and throws it onto the bed, burying his face into your pussy.

strawberry brat all works

[nicoline1998enilocin]

Hi, bestie, I’ve a request with our Tony for you

“that looks too big”

“wow, are you sure this is your first time?”

“you’re doing really well”

Thank you ❤️

The experience of a lifetime

Pairing || Best friend!Tony Stark x Best friend!Fem!Reader

Wordcount || ~ 925 words

Summary || When you come to Tony with an unexpected request, he can't help but think about the possible consequences. Once he agrees with you, he can't help but think about why you two haven't done this sooner, and he can't wait to return the favor, either.

Rating || Explicit (E)

Tags || Friends to friends with benefits. Hints of mutual pining. Explicit sexual content.

Smut || Oral (M receiving). Blowjob. Cum swallowing.

A/n || BESTIE. I have one thing to say, and that is I fucking love you! Oh, my dear good lord, you have unleashed something in me with this drabble, and I am forever grateful! Thank you for proofreading it, and it was my honor to have written this amazing story for you! 🤍

Photo: @ccbsrmsf1 || All other graphics are made by @nicoline1998enilocin

Main Masterlist || Tony Stark || FWB!Tony Stark || Summer of Drabbles

"You want to... what?" Tony asks, unsure if he heard you correctly when you asked him if you could give him a blowjob. It's something you've never done before, and you're very curious about what it's like.

"I want to suck your dick," you tell him again, and this time he hums as if he's trying to let it sink in. Out of all the things that went through his head when he saw you come into his lab not even five minutes ago, this definitely wasn't one of the things that crossed his mind.

"I- uhm... Yeah," he says after thinking about it for a short moment. He's been madly in love with you for as long as he can remember, and he would be stupid to say no to an offer like this, though he's also a bit nervous, afraid it might change something in a way you won't be able to come back from.

"Do you want me to do it now, or...?" you ask, and Tony's mind is in overdrive. A blowjob, now?!

"If you- I mean, if that's what you want," he says shyly, and you can't stop smiling at his shy demeanor.

"It is!" you say in a cheerful voice, and a few moments later, you find yourself on your knees as he works on opening his pants, his hands trembling with nerves and excitement. Your next sight is one you did not expect in the slightest, and your jaw drops at the size of his cock.

"T-that- uhm, that looks too big," you say in a soft voice, nerves now settling in your stomach at the thought of what's about to happen. Your confidence when you walk in has lessened, instead making way for the nerves soaring through your body.

"I'm sure we can make it work, Princess; we can take it slow," he says reassuringly, and you nod. You scoot a bit closer until you're between his thighs, your hands resting on them to ground yourself.

Tony works his hand over his length, and all you want to do is have a small taste at first to see what it's like. Carefully, you bend forward with your tongue stuck out, licking the small bead of pre-cum that gathered at his slit with a soft, curious hum. You'd have to get used to the salty taste, but it also leaves you wanting more right away, and you do exactly that.

Your lips wrap around his soft, pink tip as you suckle gently, getting used to both the taste and the texture of his cock. Tony's eyes are slipping shut as you do, soft groans filling the air as you take your time to get used to having something so odd yet perfect in your mouth.

"Hmm, you're doing really well," he praises you, which warms your cheeks as you work more of him into your mouth, your tongue licking the vein on the bottom of his cock to see what it's like. It turns out this is something Tony enjoys, as his hands are placed on your head to guide you and ground himself, too.

As you're getting accustomed to the taste and feel of the stretch in your mouth, you keep working more of him into your mouth, resulting in Tony groaning loudly from the pleasure. For the first time, you're doing very well and proud of yourself as you pull back again, the feeling becoming almost natural.

"I want to swallow for you, Tony," you say after letting him go with a wet pop, and the grunt that leaves Tony's lips as he tries not to cum on the spot enables you to know he loves the thought of letting go in your mouth.

"Before I do that, I have to ask you one thing, Princess," he says, and you sit back to meet his gaze.

"Are you sure this is your first time?"

The laugh that leaves your lips has Tony smiling wide, and his heart feels like it's gonna beat out of his chest as he looks at you. You have stolen his heart, and now you're gonna let him cum in your mouth as well, making you his favorite person ever.

This time, instead of taking him in your mouth again, you decide to play with the long, protruding vein on the bottom of his length, running your tongue over it as your hand gently works back and forth as well.

"P-Princess," Tony stumbles, and you look at him through your lashes as you suckle on his tip, which has him dangerously close to the edge. You decide to take the hint, and before you know it, your best friend is emptying his balls in your mouth with a deep shout of your name, changing your dynamic in a way you won't be able to come back from, but you don't mind.

"I- fuck," Tony curses, his chest rising and falling quickly after you've worked him through his orgasm.

"Let me return the favor, Princess," Tony says with lust-blown eyes, and your pussy clenches in excitement as he does. While you were nothing more than friends when you walked into his lab less than an hour ago, you're now heading towards friends with benefits, which you're not complaining about.

"I thought you'd never ask," you say before getting up and sitting on his desk, your legs spread to reveal you're completely bare underneath your skirt. It's like you have planned this from the beginning, and Tony has fallen for it - and you - exactly like you thought he would.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Pernille's Princesse

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: A look back at your birth from Pernille's perspective

It was, ultimately, a good idea to visit the Wolfsburg team.

Pernille was feeling terribly bad, all fat and bloated. She feels restless too, which is what actually prompts her to drag her heavily pregnant self to the training grounds to get some fresh air.

She's talking with Nilla Fischer, Magda's national teammate, when it happens. She sucks in as pain flares before something that she's been predicting will happen soon, happens.

"Are you okay?" Fischer asks, having caught the wince.

Pernille grabs her upper arms. "My water just broke," She says plainly," Did you bring your car to practice? I'd appreciate it if you drove me to the hospital."

"Oh..er...yeah, sure."

Pernille keeps a tight hold on her emotions as Nilla bundles her into the car and sets off to the hospital. Mainly, because she knows that after she's made this phone call, she'll have to be the calm one of the pair.

"I'll be there soon," Magda's voice says in greeting, a hint of laughter within it," I'm just about to get on the plane."

"You need to call Emma," Pernille says casually even though she's gritting her teeth and squeezing Nilla's wrist over the gear stick.

"What?"

Pernille thinks that Magda might be a little slow today. "You need to call Emma." Her words are short and sharp and it's all she can do from screaming from pain. "And tell her that you'll be sitting the next few games out. You're busy."

"But I'm not?"

Pernille wants to scream and cry but she's trying to stay strong and not have a breakdown in Nilla's car. It doesn't quite work because she snaps at Magda. "You are! Because I'll be damned if I push your baby out and you run back to England a few days later."

She can hear Magda's sharp inhale of worried breath. "But...You can't be having her now! She's early!"

"By two days!" Pernille hisses as another contraction hits her. "I'll send you the hospital address. I don't care how you do it but if you miss this, Magda, I will not be happy."

She drops the call when Nilla pulls into an empty parking space, leaping from the car to help get Pernille out.

"Worried mama?" The receptionist lady asks as Nilla flaps about trying to get Pernille seen.

"Worried friend," Pernille replies as she fills in one last form, handing it back over the counter," The other mama is on a plane to get here right now."

The receptionist winces in sympathy and flags down a nurse to take Pernille to her room.

Nilla comes with her but after a few hours and a text from Magda saying she's landed, Pernille kicks their mutual friend out.

"You're hovering and it's stressing me out!" She snaps as another contraction comes through. "Go and wait outside for Magda!"

Nilla leaving gives Pernille time to calm herself, taking in long and soothing breaths as she rubs her stomach. "Come on, princesse. Just stay like you are for a bit longer or I'll have to kill your Morsa."

She doesn't need to worry though because, no sooner has a nurse confirmed that she's only five centimetres, does Magda arrive.

"Am I late?"

Pernille's lying back on the bed, hand still rubbing circles on her stomach. She deadpans," Does it look like you're late?"

Magda relaxes significantly before saying with a hint of laughter," I think I scared Nilla. I left all my luggage with her."

Pernille waves a hand dismissively. "She's got spare keys. The nurse said I'm only five centimetres dilated. We could be here for a few more hours. Have you called Emma yet?"

Magda's guilty face says everything.

"We have time," Pernille says," Call her now and tell her."

She's right, of course, because your grand entrance to the world doesn't happen until early in the morning. It's absolute hell pushing you out and Pernille's ninety percent sure that she's absolutely wrecked Magda's hand from how hard she was clenching it.

She definitely screamed as well and she also doesn't want to think about the fact that the doctor had a view of her the whole time.

"You did it," Magda says as Pernille slumps back against the pillows," She's here."

Pernille can hear you screaming and she smiles, absolutely exhausted. "She's here."

She watches as the doctor passes a bundle wrapped in your baby blanket to Magda.

You've gone quiet and you're absolutely beautiful, Pernille notes, when you're unwrapped and placed on her chest.

You're rooting immediately and Pernille can do little but stare in awe at you.

●～●～●～●～

Getting you home is easy and Pernille makes Magda drag the cradle into the main bedroom, so they can get you easily at night.

"Look at those legs go. You're going to be such a good addition to Sweden when you're older."

Pernille rolls her eyes as she sits up in bed, having taken a power nap. "You mean Denmark. I'm not raising my daughter to wear a Sweden jersey."

"We'll see."

Pernille picks you up and marvels, not for the first time, at how easily you fit into her arms. She moves to the rocking chair and places you in Magda's arms.

You both look so sweet together, so soft and loving that Pernille has to take a picture - immortalising the moment.

"That's getting framed," She says with a grin," I think I'll put it on my bedside table. So I can remember this moment with you and the princesse." She crouches down to make you wear the hood, caressing your cheeks.

"We need to give her a name soon," Magda reminds her but her eyes haven't left you," We can't keep calling her the princesse."

Pernille thinks of the list they made, the one taped up to the fridge door. They had been going back and forth for weeks. She bites her lip as the name she had heard recently comes to mind.

She hums. "I know it wasn't on the list," She says finally," But I like y/n."

Magda repeats it with a smile, looking down at you. "Is that your name? Are you a y/n?"

You kick your legs, slamming them into Magda and Pernille smothers her laugh.

"That's a pretty powerful strike, princesse." Magda looks up at her. "I think she's giving us her approval."

"I think so too. y/n Harder-Eriksson."

"y/n Eriksson-Harder."

Pernille scoffs and rolls her eyes. "We've got another day before the trip to the embassies. We'll argue about her last name later." Her hand ghosts over your head. "What matters right now is princesse has a name now."

"It's a very pretty name."

[sevenop]

Billie Eilish x Fem!reader: Can you open up the door?

A/n: she takes you to her home, lovingly sheltering you from the heavy downpour so rare in LA. Takes you, and it seems, your love and all the inner contradictions along with fears caused by the public.

Inspired by the atmosphere of "CHIHIRO".

You know perfectly well that arguing with Eilish's decisions is a losing proposition, not in all cases, but in the vast majority of them. Your clothes are soaked to the skin, and the wind, though not quite cold but assertive, hints that all this will leave a mark on your immunity in the near future. Only as long as you can hear her voice on the other line, you don't care at all, frankly. You clench your chilled fingers a little tighter and hold the phone closer to your ear, because the rain noise makes it hard to hear her.

"You don't even know where I am right now."

"I know and I'm on my way to Amir's Garden to pick you up," she says uncompromisingly, and you realize Billie is really serious when you hear the click of a seatbelt and the noise of an engine in the background. Fucking hell! A puzzle quickly forms in your head: surely Finneas must have told her everything, knowing your plans. You think, you're need to talk a little less about yourself.

"Wow, what a commanding tone, Ms. O'Connell," - your pathetic attempt at defensive irony is immediately shot down by her chuckle, but you don't want to end this game. - "Do you like to lead?"

"Do you still doubt it?" - the slight hoarseness in her voice awakens a short-term flash of current in the back of your head, dispersing a pack of goosebumps on your hands and speeding up your heartbeat. You almost exhale deeply into the tube, but you pulls yourself back in time - it's too ambiguous a gesture, she shouldn't know. Not now. There is a slight mutual silence on the wire and you are content with the barely perceptible rustle of wheels, bringing thoughts and feelings into relative order.

"Just don't go anywhere, okay?"

"I was waiting in the garden, contemplating, beg your pardon," - you smirk softly, humming the now so appropriate line.

"It's not fair to mock me with my own songs, girl."

"Leave me at least something, Eilish," - you smile, imagining her childishly sly expression frozen in imaginary offense.

You drop the call and lean your back against the trunk of a tree with a spreading crown. Well, all that's left is to wait.

×××

"Damn, you're all wet!"

"Can we be a little less blatant, Billie?" - you plop down into the passenger seat next to her, slipping your seatbelt on in one motion until it clicks into place. It's impossible to wipe the smirk off your face after this joke. Naturally, you lost in your verbal altercation and Eilish arrived as she wanted, but no one forbade you to get even at the expense of lewd jokes, right?

"Shut up, you know what I meant," - Billie snorts amusedly, blue eyes sweeping over you from head to toe. - "I just want to help you, my underdog and... I missed you."

You meet her eyes and sparks shoot up in the back of your head again, like multi-colored fireworks, and the cog of anxiety that has been a regular in your head lately starts to slowly spin, revealing before your eyes the endless lines of negative comments you've read today. What bad timing.

"Is something wrong?" - and you're not even surprised. Billie reads people like an open book, her incredible talent that you sometimes get a little jealous of.

"A little later, Bils, I promise," - the gray highlights merge with the infinite blue of her irises - understanding mixed with worry. You gently touch her hand resting calmly on the gearbox and deftly interlock your fingers, creating an overall perfect puzzle. The feel of her skin makes you feel so warm inside. - "I missed you too, love."

Eilish blurs into a smile, clinging to the last word, which is new to both of you, and your heart does a somersault. You've only been dating for a week and you need to get used to this. Going from being friends to lovers is a strange but pleasant thing.

"Shall we go?"

"You don't deserve her!", "Another affair, pfft...", "Disgusting!" - The cog speeds up, causing your single nervous exhalation to shatter the silence of the cabin as if you had shotgunned the roof above you two.

Her lips touch your knuckles on the palm still closed with her, saving you from the captivity of the stinging words of Internet strangers. The sound of rain rhythmically drumming on the body of the Dodge suddenly fills your ears. She seems to know everything.

"Please, can I stay with you?" you look at Eilish as if she were a prayer altar: blue eyes reflecting your deep hope mixed with fatigue and helplessness. Warm smile of her beautiful lips is your impulse to confessional.

"I wasn't going to let you go, silly."

×××

You reach her house in silence: no unnecessary questions and jokes, just the sound of a non-stop downpour. Billie is completely focused on the road, and with your finger you are already drawing the eighth heart on the fogged window, like amulets from voracious thoughts. Dodge smoothly pulls into the parking lot, and you don't really remember how you find yourself in her bedroom, sitting lost on a huge bed.

"Hey, my girl," - the back of her palm touches your cheek incredibly softly, causing you to immediately stare at her. Eilish is kneeling in front of you, in her arms a warm red sweater with two white stripes in it, and her eyes are pure silver steel. It's not clear if she's mirroring the frowning sky looming outside the huge panoramic bedroom window, or if anxiety is stirring so strongly within her, crowding out all the peaceful blue of her irises. - "Put it on, I don't want you to get sick."

"It's from the CHIHIRO shoot, right?" - you take off your wet T-shirt and folding it accurately, as if won't throw it in the wash. Billie pulls the sweater over you, nodding affirmatively. The gray steel of her eyes doesn't open from you for a second. - "I've never seen 'Spirited Away'. It's silly, but as a kid I was always scared about those pigs and turned off the TV right away, and over time I just plain forgot I wanted to watch it to the end."

"Do you want to watch it together?" - her hands touch your waist, gently stroking your sides as if supporting you through the touch. If you were in a different frame of mind, you'd let go of a million jokes. The domineering Eilish kneeling in front of you is quite a display.

"I don't think the person who wrote an entire song about this anime would be interested," her palms calculatingly slowly slide off your waist to obligingly offer you warm house shorts. - "You've probably reviewed it back to back."

"With a girl like that, looking so mind-blowing in my sweater, I'm ready to look at least a thousand more times," - she moves a little closer to your face, lifting herself slightly on the arms on either side of your hips. Her lips, where you instantly shifted your gaze to, now have the hottest smirk you've ever seen in your entire life. You feel the flame of embarrassment flicker across your cheeks. Billie bites her lower lip and you immediately look at the top of her head, out of harm's way. For the first time, you notice that she's a little wet herself, running out of the car with you.

"Only if you wear a sweater too so you don't get sick, O'Connell." - you kiss her gently on the forehead, because kissing on the lips is still embarrassing. She agrees.

×××

"Haku, you know, my mom told me... I don't remember much myself. When I was little, I fell into a river once. Now the river's been filled in. They built houses there. But I just remembered! I remembered what it was called." - You watch the little girl fly on the dragon under the moon itself, holding onto its horns, and suddenly you feel Еilish's hands pull you closer into her arms. You only rest your head on her shoulder, relaxing completely and covering your eyes for a second against the coziness around you. - "It was called - Amber River. Kohakugawa. Your real name is Kohakugawa."

"I know everything, y/n. I know they write everything," Billie whispers softly, scorching your ear with hot breathing. You immediately jump up, open your eyes abruptly, and stare at her with an understanding and frightened look, echoing exactly the emotion of Kohakugawa himself. - "Hey, hey, hey! Relax, baby, I'm right here."

Billie deftly grabs the remote and pauses the footage with a barely audible click of a button, and your anxiety cog is spinning in your head again, winding up your sanity at an insanely fast pace. Again a shroud of avatars with mostly pictures of her, again a cluster of venomous the letters, "You don't deserve her!", "She's probably with her out of pity.", "Billie has everything but taste in girls." Click, click, click! You put your hands on your head like you're covering your ears. O'Connell reaches her hands toward you, and you leap out of bed in one strong and sharp, the word of a bucket of boiling water being splashed on you. It becomes so damn hard to breathe. The steel in her eyes, even in the semi-darkness of the room is intense and red-hot to the extreme.

"Y/n..."

"They're all right, Billie! I don't deserve you! I'm such a fucking coward!"

You grab desperately at the collar of your sweater, the word that imaginary lump in your throat is about to cause asphyxiation if you don't. Your hands shake uncontrollably, your gaze darting from side to side, clinging to the huge plasma, to the chair, to the corners of the sheets hanging from the bed, but returning to her each time. You see her slowly rise from the bed. You see it, and you immediately run to the stairs without even thinking about it. The cog clicks wildly, drowning out even the sound of footsteps that immediately overtake you. Your hands cling to the railing as you twisted your ankle on a hurried descent. Close your teeth tightly against the waves of acute pain and run, run, run!

But you realize you can't, leaning back powerlessly against the wall, already near the door. You can't because it hurts too much to run, and you can't because you love her too much. Billie pushes you against the wall even tighter in a second, looming over you like a hurricane. Arms spread on either side of you. You're trapped. Her breath hitches a little, scorching your neck, but her face shows nothing like anger, only seriousness and concern. She stares at you so intently that you think the wall behind you is about to crack and fall to dust.

Confident, yet lost in words, she finds nothing better than her own lines

"Open up the door, can you open up the door?" - she touches both palms to your face and you feel for the first time how much they shaking, - "I know you said before you can't cope with any more..."

"That's my favorite line from your song," - you flap your nose, realizing you really can't take it anymore.

"I know."

And you cry, shamelessly and right in front of her. You feel the salty, clear paths from your eyes dripping down her arms, see the worried silver in her eyes change to their usual tantalizing ghostly blue. You feel her clutch you in hers tightly, sliding down the wall with you. You hiss at the pain in your ankle and she shudders fearfully, fingers touching your chin and lifting your head. Your gazes meet and you see the weeping oceans opposite, so bright against the pinkish whites. She is crying along with you.

"Did you fall? God, y/n, we have to...," - her pleasant husky voice twitches with worry and tears, and you cover her neat, plump lips with yours, silencing her. She responds immediately, biting your lower lip lightly in a silent plea for more. You obediently open your mouth, immediately meeting her tongue. You feel the salt from your tears and the heat in your heart. True, and much lower, too.

"I'm scared, Billie," - you say honestly, palms resting on her collarbones. The cog in your head immediately fall with a clatter, crack in two. - "I said I wouldn't be afraid of some strangers' opinions, but it turned out not to be like that at all. I seem to be hated now, even for just breathing."

"I understand, my heart," - Billie put her arm around you, her hands stroking your back. From your shoulder blades to your tailbone, over and over again. - "But I chose you, not any of them, remember. You are my conscious choice. You are my love."

You hear her reply, finally finding the reassurance you need. "You are my conscious choice." The storm of words subsides as you standing this phrase on a shelf in your head like a trophy. The wreckage of the cogwheel of worry dissolves altogether, disappearing into infinity.

Eilish catches your smile and kisses you immediately. Your hands cling at her neck, and she moans gutturally as she gets what she wants. But she pulls away immediately:

"We need to take care of your ankle first, dumbass. I'll dial the number of a docotra I know."

"And then?" - you ask so childishly naive as Billie helps you gently stand up and you walk leisurely toward the couch in her living room.

"And then we'll watch this anime and I'll take back every kiss you owe me when I've been gentlemanly patient." - She sits you down on the soft couch, plopping down next to you. With her hand, she immediately pulls out her cell phone from the pocket of her home shorts. - " To make sure you heard exactly what I said."

"Thank you. For everything."

And later you do make out to one of Hayao Miyazaki's great masterpieces, just as she promised.

[iznsfw]

Drunken

Loossemble's Son Hyeju x Male Reader Smut

19,012 words

Categories | cheating, longtimecrush!Hyeju, mutual feelings, drunk sex, daddy kink (and daddy issues), fingering, squirting, titfucking, anal, choking

Thank you for commissioning! Researched for the fic, ended up falling in love with Son Hyeju. Please give this a chance and read this for the story, too, and not only the smut. I indulged too much in this.

The relationship Hyeju and OC have is very much inspired by the one Cassy and Rob have in In the Woods by Tana French. Read it, please. Was amazing. The story was also written with someone I'm currently so in love with in mind, but we're not going to talk about that here.

And no, there's never enough daddy kink stories :P

“This is not fair,” the two of you say the very second you step into your shared dorm.

Two papers in two hands of two people that show two scores that aren’t up to par for the two’s standards. You and Hyeju were always meant to be a dynamic duo: peas in a pod in every way possible, and that includes academic success and failure. It’s like there’s a kind of telepathic force between you that sends the other down with you, too. It’s too late to try and cut the connection when you’ve known Hyeju all your life, a wish that’s beyond reality for plenty of the boys at Idalso.

The dorm is clean. Mostly. You’ve done your best to tidy up the pile of clothes at the end of Hyeju’s bunk bed and she’s done the same for the relatively empty bags of chips you haven’t stopped the habit of laying around, but there’s still the telltale signs that if Hyeju isn’t organized, you aren’t either. Printed drafts of your thesis lay crumpled on the floor. Her posters are minutes away from falling off the poorly painted walls. The air-conditioner doesn’t work as well as it did in your freshman year when your rowdiness outdoors—knocking into each other, trying to race to the door and ending up messing up the other’s clothes that were ironed in a rush—isn’t as compensating.

Today, the rowdiness is lost. It gets translated into rough groans that follow you on the way to the dorms.

That’s when you realize it.

You and Hyeju look at each other. Both of your pairs of eyes widen.

“Miss Ha failed your test?” she asks, normally bored pupils widening in disbelief.

“Miss Ha failed my test.”

“No erasure rule?”

“No erasure rule.”

“Oh my god.”

“Oh my god.”

Ball up the paper and shoot it in the air. It adds to the numerous pieces of parchment on the floor. You kick the rest of them in the air while your roommate slumps on her bed and groans. 

“Fuck this,” you say, hands on your head. There comes the urge to tear all your hair out and leave it at that damned professor’s door, blood and all, to make her at least feel a miniscule bit of remorse for failing you. You didn’t deserve that. You studied and studied and she still had to implement that stupid rule.

Hyeju catches a wrinkled and crumpled paper globe. Her sui generis lips release a soft sigh. “At least we have thesis confetti,” she says sullenly.

“I’m dropping out,” you declare. You’re surprised at how serious you sound. Normally you’d say it just to get a laugh out of yourself, but now you’re actually considering doing it. 

“If you drop out, I’m dropping out, too,” she answers, looking at you spitefully. “And then who’s going to take care of Daniel?”

Think of Daniel. He isn’t your roommate but he’s gotten close with you and Hyeju the past few years. “His inheritance is what’s gonna take care of him. Did you forget he’s rich as shit?”

“Oh, right. How could I forget about him?” 

You start picking up the papers of your drafts faster and knocking them harder into the wall. Why are you doing that? Nope, don’t have an answer to that. There’s a fiery rage inside you that Hyeju’s latest sentence is the arsonist of. 

“The fuck are you doing?” she asks in amusement. There’s a hint of disgust on her face. “Calm down. What’re you, my dad or something?”

“S-sorry.” You know the whole deal she has with her dad. You have to stop—thus, drop the balls of papyrus from your hand. “It was just… I don’t know why I did that.”

Maybe you do. Can’t be about the test though it’s why you started throwing a thesis tantrum.

“Chill out, dude.” She pats your shoulder and gives you a pouty look. “If you want to play strict dad with me: no, I don’t like Daniel. If I did, I would have sat on his lap and said,” she assumes a high voice and flutters her eyelashes at you, leaning on your side, “‘Let me help you with that, darling. I’ll do the dishes, too! Or maybe you want to put a baby in me while I squeeze the soap on your di—’”

“Stoooop!” 

Throw a pillow at her. She dodges it and sticks her tongue out at you. Oh yeah. How could you forget that she plays dodgeball with the friend who’s taken up the topic of your conversation? 

Oh god, shouldn’t have reminded yourself that Hyeju and your other friend hang out. You’re feeling weird again.

“Earth to daddy, Earth to daddy,” she says, snapping her fingers in front of your face. “Li’l shit, what’s gotten into you?”

You’re feeling something again. It creeps into your heart and tugs at its strings, just like how your roommate loves to tie knots in yours and watch you struggle around trying to walk with them. That’s how it felt when she called you that. It’s not the first time she took on a roleplaying banter with you yet that specific title has you hot. 

You need to take a walk. Take a walk to somewhere that doesn’t have you in a place where you could easily pin Son fucking Hyeju to the wall and kiss her till the heat subsides.

-

Walking is your only exercise. You care not for the gyms and weights—why pressure yourself with those when you could just go for a simple walk? An hour is already sufficient enough to burn the breakfast. Only downside is that you get quite hungry afterwards, and though you don’t care for counting calories either, you’re pretty sure the food you have after your strolls is more than the amount you burned.

Actually, you could think of another downside: Hyeju doesn’t join you. She’s a homebody. A couch potato. A living pillow. She prefers to lounge at the dorm and play games instead of going out. She rarely comes along, which is why you’re guaranteed a few hours of isolation.

When you take into consideration that it isn’t isolation if tentative feelings accompany you, you’re partly glad Hyeju didn’t come along.

“Hey, is that you?”

You smile. There he is. You always pass by the apartments this time, and the old man who owns it is one of the few people you’re fond of. Being friends with a landlord wasn’t on your college bingo card, but you’re glad it happened. He’s kind, has white hair that almost matches the color of the spaces he owns, and a mouth that can simultaneously be like that of a sailor’s and a doting grandfather.

“Hi, mister Kim.”

“Hi there yourself,” he chirps. His smile is bright. Can’t say the same about the flickering bulb back in your dorm. “Where’s your girlfriend?”

Red colors your cheeks. “Hyeju’s not my girlfriend.”

“Never said she was.” He winks.

The explosion of scarlet first starts at your ears. He got you. But it isn’t exactly you to blame—everyone likes to push you and your girl best friend together. The old man knows what he’s doing. He just likes to toy around with you. 

“Mister Kim, don’t be like that,” you say. Scratch the back of your neck.

“I’ll be however the hell I want,” he replies, crossing his arms t in a friendly stance. “You two’re always glued to each other.”

“We’re just friends, sir.”

“Just friends my ass. Whenever that girl visits me, she’s always talking about you. It’s like you’re the only thing on her mind.”

That revelation was so out of nowhere, yet you welcome it. You like knowing that Hyeju, the girl you adore, adores you just as much. It’s the mutual feeling of fondness that keeps you breathing. 

“T-that doesn’t mean anything,” you say humbly. You’re somewhat right—just because Hyeju hides the truth that she drones on about you doesn’t mean she has a crush on you. You’ve seen and met her exes, and even back then they’re miles more charming than you.

“Wanna bet?”

“I’m broke—”

“No, no. Not in that way.” He shakes his head. “If you and Hyeju actually end up together, I’m letting you live in one of my apartments for free.”

“Mister Kim—”

“Think about it for your old man, will you?”

With that, he shows you a knowing smile and turns his back. Nothing more is said.

-

Just so it’s clear for everyone who comes across this story of yours: you don’t love Son Hyeju.

Anyone and everyone says the opposite. They treat you and her like famed characters on a popular teen show, pairing you up with each other and tearing off all hesitancy about thinking that they might be going too far. 

But now you’re here to make a stand against those falsehoods: contrary to popular belief, Son Hyeju isn’t the love of your life, and although you’ve been friends for so long people’d expect you walked into kindergarten class with your hand in hers, it’s completely platonic between the two of you.

There are no feelings. No speck of a disgusting yearning in your hearts despite the late night stroll you had to take to stop your wistful thoughts. No sir. Hyeju doesn’t love you that way, and neither do you. It’s simple.

Doesn’t seem that simple when you wake up in the dorm with what’s supposed to be a groan that folds itself back down your throat when you see her curled up in the other bed, blankets splayed and curled around her. No makeup on, except for lip balm she smears around her triangle-shaped mouth when they get chapped. No care for how she looks in the air (doesn’t matter when that’s the way you like it, the way she likes it). She lies there with slumber that could only be induced by an unmerciful college.

You’re glad you have her while you’re battered by the same cause of her sleep.

You try to be silent but her eyes open anyway. Her eyes are squinted, and she kind of looks like an emoticon as she pers around. She doesn’t know when or where she is. Grin because neither do you sometimes, but now that you hold that knowledge, you share it with her.

“Earth to Hyeju, Earth to Hyeju.” Echo her words from last night and resound them back to her.

“Earth?” she groans. “Wake me up when Idalso sends me to Mars.”

Yeah, that’s the Hyeju you know. The Hyeju you love. 

(Huh? Where did that come from?)

“I’ll go with you. Could use miss Jeong not trying to kill me.”

Hyeju runs a hand through her hair groggily and smiles sweetly. “Maybe she should come along and go through with killing you if you don’t stop ‘forgetting’ to pay me that five thousand.”

“Cute. I’ll pay you later, I promise.” Rise to sling the blinds up, letting light five-thirty a.m. sun spill through the squares. “Catch some breakfast at McDonald’s before class?” you offer. She’s your usual companion in the morning—you’d split the bill (because “you’re broke, and I’m broke,” she said, “it’s only fair we try to stop being poor together”) and have a nice opening meal of egg and chicken nuggets.

“Sweetie, it’s Saturday today,” she reminds you. “Don’t you remember?” She looks up from her phone and smiles at you condescendingly, as if she knew how that friendly nickname causes your system to shut down. 

You try not to show it. Try not to make it obvious that you turned your head to hide the fact that you were flustered. The fact that despite being only friends with her your chest still tightens at her casual pet names for you, like what she called you last night as well. It’s what friends do: joke with each other, call them unflattering names one second then sweet ones the next. The dorm has enough fans to keep the air circulated, and the sweat you broke last night is gone. So if that’s that, why do you feel so warm right now?

You wonder if Hyeju also feels the same heat in her stomach when you say, “Grandpa can’t remember things well anymore, darling. You’ve got to cut him some slack.”

“Wow, okay. That’s one way to put it, I guess.”

It’s lucky that it’s still dark enough for your red ears to be invisible. You hate it when you mess up your laid-back persona in front of Hyeju, the one you put up whenever you engage in these playful arguments. “Look,” you say, “do you want to get McDonald’s or not?”

“Can’t. Won’t. Shan’t. Too lazy.”

Your heart sinks. “Fine, I’ll just go to a café then. Still have that thesis to do.”

Hyeju lays back into the bed and shuts her eyes. She’s learned that when there’s a chance to sleep, she should take it. To you, it doesn’t look like she’ll let go of this one, even if rejecting it means eating together with you. 

You put on a coat and some shoes, then turn away. Fine, let her be like that. What did you even expect? You can’t be her only priority in life. Sleep, of course, and rest should come first, especially if you’re a college student. You have to brush the hurt creeping in your heart and do your own thing, just like you’d let her do hers.

Don’t catch her eyes opening and lingering on you. Your back is turned and therefore doesn’t let you see it. But if only you did, you wouldn’t have been doubtful about your future concerns, all related to her.

-

This is a different story though. This isn’t a love story—if anything, it’s how a love story ends.

-

Just so it’s clear for everyone who comes across this story of yours: you don’t love Son Hyeju.

Yes, it bears repeating. Sometimes you need to say it again to convince yourself. Convince yourself that you’re not constantly in lectures wishing that it was her beside you instead of your groupmate. Convince yourself that your soul doesn’t shatter in pieces when she refuses to join you in anything. 

Maybe you just need someone to talk it out with. Yes, that’s right. The whimsical yearning in your heart isn’t for Hyeju. You swear on it.

Oh, but you’ve never been very good at that.

“What’s going on? I came as quick as I could,” says Daniel. Yeah, that’s his name. It’s a common name that sounds foreign and unique, especially since he’s a transfer student who came from the U.S.. He has pale skin and brown eyes that are as kind as he is. You like him—he’s the only one you bother bearing besides Hyeju.

But this isn’t about her. You need to let go of her. What? “Let go of her”? Why do you think about her like you two were actually a thing?

“Nothing. Just… feelings.”

“Something happened?” He sits down and looks around confusedly. “Wait, where’s Hyeju?”

“That’s the thing,” you say as you smile tightly. “She’s what happened.”

Daniel’s not stupid. And even if we say that he was, he’s been your friend for two years. It’s short in comparison to your time with Hyeju, you know, but it remains impressive. You don’t have that many friends besides them. That, of course, eventually led to Hyeju and Daniel becoming friends with each other. That’s the reason for him catching your drift—he knows you like the back of his hand.

You order the third cheapest option on the list: an iced latte. Your friend opts for a croissant and some tea, something that reminds you that he isn’t actually from Korea. You often forget that when his Korean is more fluent than a native’s and he gels with other people so quickly. He’s an easy-going guy with everything flowing well for him.

“Let me guess: she did something?” he asks. Alright, close enough. His fingers drum a steady rhythm on the table while yours do so on your laptop keyboard.

“Yeah.” Shake your head immediately and contradictingly. What are you saying? “No. Yeah, probably. But I think it’s my fault.”

No, it isn’t a mere probability of it being your fault. It is your fault. Why are you placing expectations on Hyeju to show up for you? It isn’t on her that you get hurt when she doesn’t have the time or willpower to come along with you. So, why are you even bothering to talk about this? You should let this matter slide. Brush it under the carpet. Rewrite the news headlines. Whatever.

“Ah, couple’s quarrels,” Daniel says teasingly. He thanks the waiter for his croissant then takes a healthy bite into it. “Out of the honeymoon phase already?”

Should you be delighted that people think that she’s yours and you’re hers? You’re split between these two emotions—choose to be frustrated instead.

“Why does everybody think that we’re a couple?” 

“Well.” Your friend twirls his teaspoon into the dainty cup. Drill your eyes on it. The café is simple and affordable to eat from, but the furniture and aesthetic make you think of it as a fancier place to eat it. “You’re always together.”

“That’s all?”

“Let me finish. When some guy has the balls to ask her out, she says she has a boyfriend. She shows him your profile and number. She goes, ‘My boyfriend wouldn’t be too happy about that.’”

The latte somehow doesn’t finish its journey through the straw. “She does?”

You’re split between two thoughts to go by again. You should be happy that your friend, a friend who’s a girl moreover (never confuse a friend who’s a girl with a girlfriend—ever), feels safe enough with you to refer to you as someone who’d protect her, whether from creeps or the aggressive dogs that patrol your college grounds. It takes real trust to call a guy who’s a friend (again, avoid the confusion) your boyfriend when the time requires it. This means she trusts you to come to her if she needs saving from an odd guy or an escape out of situations.

But at the same time, you wonder if that’s what you really are to her, what you’ll only ever be to her: a fake boyfriend. The guy friend who doesn’t mind being called a boyfriend because he knows his low place in her heart. Does Hyeju even look at you as someone who’s not just an acquaintance?

“Yeah,” Daniel says matter-of-factly. “She really likes having you around.”

You don’t need to think about it when you reply, softly: “I do, too.”

The two of you sit in silence you don’t know the source of. Daniel stops eating suddenly. Similarly, all the appetite is lost and you have to put your plastic cup of latte down before you throw it at the wall and ruin the dining experience for everyone else. No, this is your problem. You should deal with it before dragging anyone into it.

“So, why did you call me? What is it about Hyeju?”

Ah, what are you thinking? Daniel shouldn’t even be here. Why did you even call him over? You did and now you don’t know why you suddenly want to throw the contents of your plastic cup into his face. If you give in, you’d be feeding into the delusion that he’s the one standing between you and Hyeju. 

That only leads to the second question of the day:

Why do you suddenly hate Daniel? Daniel is a nice guy. He doesn’t even make a move on her or disrespect her. 

You don’t like these feelings. It’s causing you to think all sorts of nonsense about everybody else, not excluding Daniel, who hasn’t done anything wrong. 

“I…” Sigh. This is the second time you’re finding an escape route so that you could be alone with your feelings. “I have to think about it. I need some time alone.”

“Oh, sure. Sorry about that.”

Hate how more guilt washes over your heart. See here, he doesn’t even protest or say something that might even be right, like tell you how you called him to come over in the first place or how there isn’t a good reason why he should leave. He simply wraps his croissant with a plastic he asked for at the counter and leaves, tea and all.

Great. Now you’re alone, like you usually are and always will be. Attempt to use it as a pro and work on your thesis. Type it all down on a Word document. Wait patiently, as you learned to, as your old laptop stops for the suffering you’ve caused it with the extra storage taken up by assignments. Contact your groupmates. Remind them to do their jobs.

It’s all going so well. That’s when she pulls up to the cafe you’ve been writing at with her hands perched on the wooden surface of your table, with the smirk that doesn’t ever leave without making sure it’s her certified look featured on her lips.

No need to mention names when there's only one girl who could make your world stop spinning.

You can’t stop staring, and it’s not even because she turned up out of nowhere. You’re always in a state of shock when Hyeju is around.

She never allows her hair to be restrained in a tight tail, so there she is with those luscious black locks spilling all over her shoulders. How she manages to look so cool and be the very person everyone wishes to be while having those soft cheeks only the evillest of people wouldn’t pinch you don’t know. Son Hyeju is cool and cute at the same time, somehow balancing those everyday without effort.

But you don’t love her. Just to remind everyone once again. No matter what happens, you have no feelings for her. And that’s that.

"Hey," she says, putting her weight on one arm. Then she curves down her head to peer at your screen. "Whatchu doin'?"

Immediately slam your laptop shut and look at her with annoyed eyes. Oh, why do you even try? You could never despise her. You could pray to god all night and day for you to hate Hyeju, to hate her to the ends of the Earth just to banish these strange feelings, and he wouldn't give in. Crazier and crazier her antics shall get and you'd remain loyal to her.

And that's all because she's a good friend. That's everything there is to it. 

Wait. Who are you convincing again?

"Oh, come on. Smile a little, pretty boy." Hyeju places a finger on one edge of your mouth then pulls it upwards. "There you go. Suh-miiile—"

Pretty boy. She called me a pretty boy.

"You p-plan on getting off the table or what?" you say.

People are staring at you and Hyeju but that isn't what's making you blush. What's gotten into you? You can't tell yourself it's because of her simply because it isn't because of her. Hyeju has as much effect on you as a cup of coffee.

(You thrive off caffeine, by the way, but that's not the point.)

"Sure. No. Uh… probably?" She looks up at the ceiling as if she's figuring something out, then clicks her tongue when she does. "Yep, nah."

Groan. 

Secretly, confessed only in the deepest corners of your mind, you like people paying attention to you and Hyeju. It’s not much about the attention itself but the way it makes them think that the two of you must be really close. Like, really really close. The kind that makes those who want Hyeju rush to her only to be met in the face with a barrier: you. They can’t have her because you do.

Not in that way, of course, but it still means something. If she has you, nobody else could, and if you have her, more so.

"Son Hyeju,” you say, fighting back the smile on your face as she ruffles your hair, “I swear to god—"

"Oh, please," says Hyeju, leaning forward with narrowed eyes and a wicked smile, "spare me, oppa. Spare me the blasphemy—"

That's enough from her, you think. Your hands dive for her waist. Pull her down onto your lap. Your thighs soften the blow and also play the role of a launch pad as one kick sends Hyeju in the air. More chances to tickle her come along with it. Okay, that bit about the lap was wholly unintentional, and you'll swear to god again for that. 

What isn't unintended though is the tickling you do on Hyeju's midriff and arms. It helps that she's so sensitive—soon she's laughing boisterously, struggling in your lap with her head upturned and triangle-shaped mouth letting out unkempt guffaws. She nearly kicks the two of you out of the café seat.

"Dude, you are such a loser, stop!" she laughs, still winding around like a screw on top of you. Laughs alternate between each syllable. "P-people are looking, fffucking quit—"

When that beautiful gummy smile breaks on her face, you don't want to. People can look as much as they like and you wouldn't give a damn. Tickling is Hyeju's punishment, and you'll do it to her anywhere to teach her a lesson.

"Ha, haha, I'm sorry, okay!"

"That's my girl." 

You’re not hurt anymore. For a few delicious minutes, you’ll forget you were ever pondering if you like her or not.

Stop completely because you’re easy to convince like that All she needed was that one magic word. Place her on the chair beside you and fold her hands on her lap as if she were a misbehaving child. 

"Now behave yourself."

Hyeju rolls her eyes. "And if I don't?" she challenges you. 

You raise your fingers in a curled position and direct them threateningly centimeters away from her ticklish spots. She gives up. She can't find a punishment worse than that.

"Why are you here anyway? I thought you didn’t want to come," you say, taking the liberty to open your laptop again. The screen directs you to your assignment tab after you type in your password. Sigh; still five thousand words to go. 

"I'm here because I've got nowhere else to be," she answers. She practices her own liberty, too, and sips shamelessly at your iced beverage.

Her eyes light up at the taste. "I got bored being alone in the dorm."

You think of her alone, and your heart immediately sinks. Maybe you should have stayed there. You’re her roommate—you’re there for her to have company. Sure, the roommates were paired up randomly, but it must lead to something now that you and Hyeju have met again. It was by pure chance that she reunited with you after years of being apart. There’s a string drawing you together, and you don’t know what it means. 

You do know that the reunion with your childhood best friend and seeing how she’s grown made your heart flutter. You act all mean when you’re around her, which is confusing when you’ve missed her so much.

"And I needed somewhere else to finish this thesis before miss Wong realizes it was due three weeks ago." Glare pointedly at her. Here you go again. Told you so. "Somewhere that's not occupied by a brat."

It's true. Call it what you will: an insult, a pointless accusation, but what you said rings true even in your childhood best friend's defiant mind. She could be a handful often.

"I am not a brat," she says, offended. She knows the truth and chooses to deny it. Typical. You should have seen that coming when she’s the girl who lies about the extra dishes in the sink not being her fault and her turn with the laundry.

Sigh. Act as the lawyer; you’re studying to be one anyway. It’s best to practice. "Remember when you cut up the slogan on the mayo label then taped it on me? I had 'white creamy filling; taste me!' on my back for the whole day!" 

"It was a big-ass sticker for a mayonnaise, okay? I couldn't stop myself." Hyeju admits this with hands raised in defeat. "But what about that time you shoved a Toblerone in my mouth while I was sleeping then took a photo of me?"

Raise your hands, too. You realize there's no way to weigh in the blame on a single person when you and Hyeju brought the brat out of each other. It's impossible to go by a day that isn't filled by at least one prank and joking quarrels.

Still, you find it fun. Hyeju's so easy to bond with, so easy to love. 

Whoa, where did that suddenly get here? Like you said, you love Hyeju, but only as a friend. 

So you do love her, in a way. Huh. 

That realization settles in and suddenly you're rendered frozen at the table. Your hands that ought to be finishing your schoolwork are frozen in mid-air. You're staring at the screen like you were watching a gory movie instead of trying to tick off your to-do list. 

"You okay?" she asks, one-of-a-kind lips sealed around the paper straw. "You kind of, like, went to another dimension for a bit."

How do you tell her you’re considering the fact that you might actually like her? You’ve known her for years. Something’s inevitably going to bloom inside you for her, right?

"Y-yeah. I'm good." Not. “And stop drinking my coffee.”

“You wouldn’t need it if you just did the thesis early. What’s so hard about it anyway?” Hyeju stands then bends over to glance at your laptop.

You don’t realize how short her dress is. It rides up to the centers of her thighs and you don’t know how to prevent anyone from seeing something forbidden without brushing down the hem of her dress. If you went down that road, you’d have to run your hand along her back and ass—you’d look like a pervert. 

Idiot. Think of something. Something that isn’t how you’d love to see more when you're just like everyone and shouldn't be allowed more eye access to her body. Only you know how many times Hyeju’s body came up in your mind when you were alone. Paired up with that attractive face that held a permanent pout, it’s impossible not to think of anything else. 

“Ugh! You are so dumb, you know that, oppa?” To your horror, Hyeju sits down neatly on your lap. She has her hands quickly frisking on your keyboard. “There’s a comma missing here, and a citation over here… oh, and a—”

“Save some for the rest of us!” a man about your age and height yells jokingly, cheering you on with a raise of his mug of hot coffee.

Both you and Hyeju look at him with confusion written all over your faces. Your words of surprise almost sync and match with the other for you realize your hands are on her hips, and Hyeju’s leaning back so comfortably in you that anyone would have thought it was another case of couple’s PDA. They’d be wrong though. She’s not your girlfriend. She can’t be your girlfriend.

So why is she so comfortable on top of you, as if she’s always been there? Why did your hands naturally rest on the beautiful slopes of her hips and pull her down the moment she stooped?

The guy’s grandmother smiles adoringly. “Young love,” she says with a dreamy tinge to her aged voice. "What wouldn't I give to experience that again."

You and Hyeju meet each other’s gazes and suddenly you’re unattached to each other. She guiltily settles on her chair and you take your hands off her. That was wrong. Why were the two of you so comfortable with being so touchy? Best friends don’t do that. At least, not best friends of the opposite sex. 

“I should go,” she stammers, standing up. “Call me i-if you need help, oppa.”

Just like that, she’s gone. Where did she go? Why did you lose her so fast?

-

Hyeju’s always called you oppa one way or another, but that moment left a particular jar in your heart. It shards the depths of the core and renders you speechless. You didn’t know that the person you’d love to hear that title the most from is your best friend. She’s supposed to call you that when she’s younger, but even if she weren’t, you’d still love to hear her call you that.

There’s a sense of fulfillment in being able to be Hyeju’s oppa. The one she always relies on. The one she sticks to through whatever happens. That’s why now that she’s told you to call her if you need help makes you ache. It’s the things that are seemingly so simple as that that send more yearning inside you.

The question is: what exactly are you yearning for? Who are you yearning for?

You think you know the answer. It’d take guts to admit it, to finally come clean. But what’s there to come clean about? You don’t love Hyeju. 

A ding from your phone just now. You’re nearly finished with the thesis, and it’s lucky that way since it’s from Hyeju. God knows she has ways of distracting you. Her clean moves at the dance she led and her chill yet stern voice when she commands a rowdy classroom steer you away from what you should be doing, like get away from her. Avoid her at all costs. Never tell her what you’re feeling because it’ll only end up badly for everyone involved. You don’t want to hurt Hyeju, and still you remain hopeful to not get yourself hurt, too.

It takes several seconds for courage to tie you down and pick up the phone. It’s a series of texts from her.

HyejU_U: hey

Sooooooooo

I’m sorry for what happened earlier. 

I didn’t really think and thought that you'd be fine with it

cause yknow

You pulled me down

and

We’re friends.

right?

Yeah, we’re friends, you think bitterly. And no matter how touchy you get, Son Hyeju, it’s all we’ll ever be to you.

HyejU_U: can we just move forward from it? If you want to ofc

Do you? Graduation is near and it’s still taken plenty of years of your life to get over Hyeju. Do you go forward and start on a new slate with her, or dwell in places you shouldn’t be?

Your fingers linger on the keyboard, then—

You: Sure.

Sorry, too

if i like

Made you feel uncomfortable

Wasnt my intention, i promise

HyejU_U: oh you didnt make me feel uncomfy at all.

So don’t worry <3

What a relief.

HyejU_U: i should be the one apologizing anyway

I thought it would be nice to be on you since ur arms feel good around me

Cock a brow. A giddy smile itches at the ends of your lips. Stifle it you will, though she can’t see you through her screen.

HyejU_U: sorry again

i just wanted to see if what i thought was true

Anyways. 

yeah, sorry.

You: so we’re good?

HyejU_U: we have a deal, dickface

;)

See, this is the thing you’re afraid to lose with Hyeju: the carefreeness of your little friendly touches and hugs, insults that take it just far enough, everything. If you told her how you felt (keep in mind that you might not actually like her romantically; you’re just thinking that you might), you’d lose your relationship with her—the one that formed before the two of you even knew what romance was. The one that’s kept the reunion as natural as could be without the need for awkwardness.

You’re so glad to have her back. As a student you’ve nearly cried knowing you passed a semester and worked night and day to finish a difficult assignment—none of those feelings can match the one of relief you felt when Hyeju told you everything was good on both ends. 

But for now, you’ve gotta try to put a dent into this thesis. You’re almost done, you swear. You’ve just been stalling—not intentionally. You swear on that, too. Your whole afternoon’s been swamped up in thoughts about her plus the thoughts about if you’re too perverted a man to be with her. There are a lot of questions left by you immediately responding to Hyeju choosing to sit on your lap. A lot of which are left unanswered.

Priorities. Sigh a little; there’s still work to be done, yet worrying about your best friend is on top of the list. You really should find a hobby when you’re already dragging your teammates behind. Plus, there’s the capstone to worry about that you haven’t prepared for even in the most miniscule bit. So there really shouldn’t be an explanation for why thinking about what she thinks of you is your number one priority. Why, you have plenty of other things to worry about.

You just can’t get her off your mind. These days it’s impossible to.

Abstain anyway, the best you can, from thinking about her and finally complete the thesis. It’s lengthy, well-edited, and has the perfect format to finally make you a lawyer. Attorney doesn’t sound too bad when it’s added to the front of your name.

You should celebrate, actually. The moment you think of it, Daniel suddenly messages you. He’s saying something about it being a Saturday, so you should go to the bar with him. You’re a social drinker, anyway. You could go there without going overboard. Addictions and vices form in these years of fresh adulthood, but you’ve never found yourself wound up in something.

So you do. They ask for your IDs and let you in after a short study of the cards. The guard gives you a lengthy lecture about not being alcoholics as young as you are, but welcomes you anyway.

If we’re talking about getting yourself wound up in someone, though…

“Dude,” Daniel says. He motions his glass to someone coming from the door. “Hyeju.”

You already know he’s rich, but what teacher did he pay to study him into mind-reading? “I wasn’t thinking about her,” you tell him defensively.

“No, I mean, she’s here.” He stares at said woman walking over to the bar with swaying hips. “How the fuck did she get here?”

Hyeju’s here? Swallow. Quick. What do you say? Where exactly in the bar is she right now? Why is she here? When did she get here? Why the fuck are you talking like a news reporter? 

“Hullo, boys.” She stops your train of thought and makes sure to dedicate all of them to her with her hands set on the table and a pretty crop top attached to the curves on her perfect body. You wonder where she got that dress. If she thrifted it, it isn’t obvious—her body does good work in making it look like couture.

“Hi, Hyeju.” Daniel acknowledges her with a nod. He’s a friend of yours and hers, just to remind everyone. He wouldn’t take another step with Hyeju, but you still have yourself staring daggers into his stubbled beard that lines his face and how he takes life as he would a game. There’s a reason why you’re the least tipsy among the two of you. He likes a challenge.

“Hi,” you say meekly. Hope your voice doesn’t sound twisted when your stomach suddenly is. Oh, and it’s not because of Hyeju. It’s the alcohol, pinky promise with a finger heart after. Alcohol’s never made your stomach turn this way though. 

Hyeju regards the shotglasses. “You went drinking without me?” 

“What does it look like?” Daniel asks, giving her the finger. It’s just the usual friendly argument that doesn’t cross lines or anything. The ones that you and Hyeju have. Why do you feel like punching him in the face?

Luckily, she doesn’t have a fragile heart. “Cute. Keep it that way.” She rolls her eyes then turns to you. “Oh, and you. I thought you liked having me around.”

“I’m sorry.” Ask the bartender for another shot then hand it to her. “I guess we just thought you were busy with training.”

She’s training to become an idol. It’s been her dream since she was a kid, when you played in the slides and dropped from monkey bars. She’s always told you she was going to be big someday, and you never doubted that for a second. She even had a name she planned to use if she were to be a performer: Olivia Hye. You weren’t gonna lie, it had a nice ring to it. Not too bad for a name she made up after skimming through a baby name book from the bookstore.

“I dropped out,” she says simply, downing the shot like water.

“What?” you and Daniel ask together. Both of your voices sync with the shock, too. Neither of you could get why she did that. It’s been Hyeju’s dream to become an idol for so long. She couldn’t give that up just like that, but she did.

“Yep.” There’s pride in her voice. “The whole thing was a shithole. I already have Idalso to deal with. I’m not gonna put up with that, fuck no.”

Your heart aches for her dream. Idalso University really is blocking her from achieving it. She could be out there on the stage, maybe having found a better agency, singing and dancing her heart out. Instead, she has to choose one problem at the time and hence goes with college. She has her own parents to please, and because you have yours, you get it. You truly do.

As for Hyeju getting a problem off her mind, like that terrible agency, your spirits lift. You raise a glass and clink it with hers. 

“To getting the hell out of this shithole,” you say; look at the girl you’ve lived for and loved with a smile, “and Son fucking Hyeju for doing it again.”

Your glasses meet. You’re somehow happy that it’s only two, yours and hers, that join. You can’t explain it for the life of you, but you like seeing Daniel become like a background character to it all. Just another extra in Hyeju’s show and yours. It’s cruel, especially when he’s been nothing but a good friend, but it is what it is.

“Tell you what,” Daniel says. “Let’s go to a noraebang tomorrow.”

She’s contemplative. “Isn’t the one near Idalso… like, expensive?” 

“So what?” He shrugs. “You did it, Hyeju. You got out of that company thing. I’m done with my capstone and so is he with his thesis. I say we all have some fun. On me.”

Daniel has the privilege of not worrying about things being expensive or not. It’s the norm for him. You kind of want him to play Dorothy and put himself in your shoes, then make him go through what you did. 

You know it isn’t fair and he’s just being kind. Still and all, your hatred rises.

“What now?” Daniel asks. “You guys in!”

“Of course!” Hyeju nods and claps her hands together. There’s a gummy smile on her face again. You’ve seen it on her many times, but you’ve also seen the sunset everyday—therefore, you’ll still be glad to catch a glimpse of it.

You guess since she’s in, you have to go, too. You say yes and that of course you’d love to go, and this time three glasses clink together prettily. Smiles are on each of your faces albeit yours is artificial.

"Could you act any less like a deadbeat dad?" Hyeju asks. She sits down on the stool beside you after Daniel leaves to get some air. Still feels like he's here when you feel like everyone's eyes are on you and her.

"I'm not doing anything." You say that because you aren't. You definitely aren't stirring a brew of jealousy inside you that poisons the maker, too. You're its creator yet the prophecy that was written tells that it'll turn against you, too. You’re Kronos, and it's an inevitable fate. 

"Exactly. That's what deadbeat means." This matter-of-fact statement from her is followed by Hyeju stealing your shotglass out of your hand right before you drink it. "Seriously, dude. What's up with you?"

Oh, you don't know. Maybe her possibly being your crush? It's such an immature matter, but you haven't had a crush like this. The others were just sweet-faced and from afar. Those are the girls you dream of. To have a girl like Hyeju, the one you've known since forever, with a spunky personality but an opposing pretty face, the one who's been your ride-or-die—it's complicated.

What else could you say to her when the truth is something you'd rather she not hear?

"I'm fine, Hye."

"Are you? You look…" She thinks about it for a while as she studies your hair and poorly combined outfit choices. She slicks your blunt strands back and smiles teasingly. "...sleazy."

"Fuck y—"

"Shhh." She places a finger on your lips. The side of her thigh touches your lap. You're so close that any word you utter won't pass without hitting her. "It's okay. I like it."

You purse your lips. You didn't expect that. She's taken seats on your lap that were uninitiated by you and let you lift her in the air when you hug her. All that and her fingers in your hair are the most surprising.

"You're drunk," you say, although she’s only had a few shots. 

Hyeju inches closer to you and holds your chin in place. "I'm sober as the next wolf, sweetie," she tells you. Her next words fail to show her hesitance. "And… and it just so happens that I really, really want to kiss you."

She's joking. She's playing around with your heart. You're not a virgin—you know what girls do. Hyeju doesn't strike you as the type to do that in spite of what’s going on, but you have to be careful. Your heart’s been bruised too many times already. 

Careful isn't the word for it when you take the first step and lean in for a kiss. Maybe you're drunk yourself. Dizziness enchants your mind as Hyeju's dreamy lips perfectly pout to the shape of your mouth. Her eyes are closed. It's like she's in a restful dream.

You can’t believe you’re doing it. You’re kissing her. Passionately, too—there’s real determination in the way you hungrily lean forward to devour her lips. 

The bar oohs and ahhs, then erupts into a crowd of applause. A few whistles come your way. You can feel Hyeju smile into your mouth.

-

Proclivities upon proclivities to keep her around you and only you couldn’t stop Monday from coming. You’ve only been to a noraebang once and that was with your family. It excites you to go to one again. However, you’d rather have only Hyeju to come, to be the exclusive member of the club that gets to hear her soft, pretty voice echo in the mic.

She’s really doing a number on you. Daniel’s your friend—sure, he might be out of touch with the local games and experiences, yet he’s still important to you. You can’t be mad at him over a girl who probably doesn’t even think the kiss at the bar was anything special. She hasn’t even talked about it with you and acts like it didn’t happen. Just another boy, just another day. That’s probably how you are to her.

Ouch. Way to go hurting yourself with your own made-up scenarios. As expected from you. 

The three of you decide to cut classes. It’s not like you’re in high school anymore. Professors just don’t give a fuck, unless it’s miss Wong. She’s pretty and quiet at first. Then you have to wait to see her get angry—that’s when all hell breaks loose.

No hell on the loose today. Just three little demons from hell called Hyeju, Daniel and yourself down on the loose and down the road to the noraebang. Hyeju’s in a loose black jacket and a plain white tee. You somehow notice that more than Daniel who’s sporting a graphic shirt with swear words from every language printed on it. You don’t have much to say about your attire when it’s nothing special, not even compared to Hyeju, who’s wearing simple clothes like you.

“If a teacher sees us out here—” says Daniel nervously. He’s never rebelled before. The most he’s done is missing a class. 

“No one will,” Hyeju promises him, opening the door of the place for the two of you though in your opinion it should be the other way around: you opening the door for her. What better way to show Hyeju that you could be a gentleman? Too late now. Plus, she doesn’t care much for that. That’s what keeps your excitement on a low burn. It takes more than opening a door and waiting around to impress Hyeju. 

You sign your names at the front. Daniel picks a nice, wide room with a glass table perfect for chips and bottles. The bright screen already shows snippets of K-pop music videos, involving sweet-faced Korean girls waving at the camera and running along a beach. As boyish Hyeju is compared to other girls, you could definitely see her doing that for her passion of becoming an idol. 

“What should we sing?” asks Hyeju, sitting down on the black plush seats comfortably. Her gummy smile is precious.

“Anything you want.” He slings an arm around her. His looped arm tugs her into a warm embrace. “Anything for the soon-to-be lawyer slash K-pop idol.”

Stiffen. Turn away and suddenly take good interest in the walls with a carved 3D effect. Much more interesting than whatever Daniel’s trying to pull on your best friend. Right, Hyeju’s your best friend. Nothing more. That kiss was a drunken mistake. You shouldn’t be getting angry. Besides, this noraebang was rented for you to have fun, not glower at Daniel doing nothing but be a good friend.

Hyeju laughs and leans into him gladly. “Stop, you’re gonna make me throw up!”

You feel out of place all of a sudden. Has she always been that affectionate with him? You thought that those touches and hugs were reserved for you only. Apparently not.

“Sing a song, Hye.” Your eyes don’t meet her gaze.

“They wanted me to debut with this song,” she says. The mic is shaky in her hand. “I—” She blushes. “I want to sing it for you.”

Sweetness infiltrates the air. It’s not of a scent or touch, but of hearing. It's Hyeju’s voice. It's smooth and soft as it passes through the empty atmosphere. No instrumental accompanies her voice, and you’re glad it’s that way. It allows you to marvel at Hyeju’s tone, quiet in spite of its sexiness.

And it takes that and several songs later, sung daringly by all of your trio, and jokes passed among friends that make you think about it. Really think about it. While Daniel and she sing their hearts out to the point of their voices cracking and laughs transforming into guffaws, you sit there and submerge yourself in thought.

You’ve seen Hyeju smile. It's pretty and sweet; her triangle-shaped mouth curls up into a half moon and it's everything you've ever wished for in life. No, fuck food. Fuck oxygen. All you need is her smile. It's cheesy as hell when you page through those types of quotes in those teenage romance books you probably shouldn't even be holding, but you swear that if Hyeju smiles for the rest of her life, it's enough for you to live. She just looks so pretty. Her resting bitch face, stone cold as the title of the expression suggests, is hot (yes, you're using that word), but when she chooses to smile—oh, you're as good as dead.

You don't like Son Hyeju though.

You’ve heard her sing in the noraebang room with her soft voice filling the vicinity. She doesn't sing much although she could. The day would come when she’d say "you know, I almost became an idol. I trained then dipped halfway,” and the pitched raspiness of her voice still would send you to heaven. It's a natural and beautiful thing, a trait she couldn't learn from the best vocal coach.

You don't like Son Hyeju though.

You’ve felt her hair when she leaned into your lap after laughing too much. "Stop, or I swear to god I will fuck your shit up," she told you, slapping your thigh after your terrible dad joke. You ran your fingers through her hair to calm her, but if anything it's an excuse to just touch her. You want to touch Hyeju, and not even in a sexual way. You just want your bodies closed up on each other with no awkwardness barriering the freedom to hold and be held.

And it’s not the kiss, but all these that make you stop your denial, and discover that you—

“—think I like Hye,” you whisper to Daniel when said girl leaves to get some beer. The flashing disco lights hanging from the ceiling can’t camouflage the red on your face. 

Daniel laughs and puts down the mic. The bump on the crafted table sends a tinged pitch of feedback to your ears. “Everyone likes her. So?”

He’s right. Everyone likes Hyeju. Yeah, they like her through every name she’s taken up. She was the star of the school back in middle school when she went as Hyejoo, then the ice princess of high school as Olivia Hye, and finally… as herself now that she’s grown up with you, Son Hyeju. She’s become so many versions of herself and yet people still like the real her. You still know the real her.

“No,” is what you say, as you twiddle your fingers. You don’t know how to say this without causing an uproar. “I like Hyeju.”

He considers this for a moment, weighing in your words. “Like as in… like like?”

A nervous swallow. Is Daniel the right person to tell this ? “Like like,” you reply nevertheless.

Daniel locks his chin between his rough fingers and strokes it thoughtfully. His face is clouded with a feeling you can’t read. “Well, a lot of people do, too. And they wouldn’t blame you for it. She’s—” He looks down at his shoes then back at the noraebang screen. “She’s a pretty girl.”

The understatement of the century. Hyeju’s face was carved with such beauty—curved, pyramid lips; slanted eyes; a cold look that you, unlike people when asked about their first impression of her, weren’t scared of—and she’s just so… easy to love. 

Yes, Son Hyeju is easy to love. Everyone loves her, but she can only ever reciprocate it in a different way to one man. Woman, perhaps? Anything goes, but you'd rather she gives it to you.

You're a selfish person, you admit that. More so when it comes to her. 

"Let's get this party started!" she says. You don't intend to flinch yet you end up doing it anyway when she sits down next to you and hands you canned alcohol. 

"There's only three of us, Hye," Daniel points out. The rounded metal springs up from the can and he gulps down a hefty amount of the spiked liquid.

"Three's a crowd. Especially when it's with you guys."

"So you're saying we're too much?" Match her sass with hidden bits of your own. You're only trying to make it seem like your heart doesn't beg to be held close to hers. 

"Too much is just enough for me." 

Hyeju drops both of her arms around you and your other friend and ruffles your hair. It's sweet. It should be. It’s exactly that which makes you fail to understand why your heart feels squeezed. Why is she also hugging Daniel in the same manner she hugs you?

The kiss at the bar means nothing. The kiss at the bar means nothing. You have to stop thinking that it means there's a ring on your finger already. 

You rise from the sofa to purchase chips because you’re starving, but not for healthy food. You wouldn’t dream of eating a salad when there’s junk food in your general vicinity, and it just so happens that there’s a vending machine you’ve got your eye on at the counter. Soon, a rainbow of plastic bags fills your arms. What they contain would work well to repay your debt with Hyeju. Daniel can eat these without worrying about money. He’s been a good friend. He deserves chips after the evil you’ve thought about him.

"I bought chips—"

Daniel is pushing Hyeju to the end of the sofa and has his lips locked on hers. His hands are in her hair. Her eyes are shut. You can hear the sloppy sounds of kissing bouncing off the noraebang walls. The instrumental from the radio is the cherry on top of everything.

Does this kiss guarantee a ring? 

"Wow," you say. Nod then laugh, as if doing it would make your situation better. “Wow.”

Hyeju turns her head and scrambles for broken dignity. It's too late. You've already seen it. Daniel doesn't even bother running after you when she bursts out of the room to chase you. You're immovable—each step is a promise to take you far away. You trust that promise to skewer you away from Son Hyeju, Son fucking Hyeju who led you on and played with your heart.

"Hey.” Her steps catch up with yours. Walk faster, but she only draws closer. You can’t escape from her now. “Hey!”

"What?" Turn to her, heavy breathing lining your shoulders. You stare into her small face and silently dare her to make an excuse.

To your surprise and her audacity, she does. "It's not what it looks like!" she says, swallowing. How could she be the one near tears when she's the one who kissed him? "Let me explain—"

"I know what I saw."

"Well, you don't see the bigger picture. He sm—"

"—smart? Funny? Rich?" Laugh and shake your head. Your laughs sound more and more genuine. You've gone a little sick in the head. "Yeah, I know. But hey, we're not supposed to be anything, right? Why am I mad? It's not like our kiss meant anything."

"Please, oppa. Listen to me."

"No, go sing together,” you say, then thrust the junk food you bought in her arms. “I’m sure you’re better off with him.”

Mean it. Turn away. Don't bother to look at her when you know she'll go crawling back to Daniel. He's totally her type. He's everything, you're nothing. He's smart, you're not. He loves her more, and you do—just not enough. Now you understand why they were so touchy and close in the room.

Anger is irrational when it was just a kiss. The two of you weren't official, either. If you weren't before, you sure as hell aren't now. It's just not meant to be. 

She likes Daniel, not you. And even though you want to be, you aren't supposed to be angry at Hyeju. She was swept into a high school love triangle that happened a little later in her life, and ultimately chose the better guy. No need to drop names. The kiss was enough for you to know which man she chose.

Besides, you don't love Son Hyeju anyway. Isn't that what you've always told yourself? That's right. You don't love her.

Denial is a river flowing down your cheek.

-

The dorm becomes a cemetery of the living dead. You and Hyeju have not spoken to each other for three months. She stops waking you up for class, and you do the same. The place is notably cleaner after the two of you rely only on yourself to tidy up. Lost are the sarcasm, friendly touches, teasing arguments. It’s like the two of you never knew each other.

It’s through this that you discover that you have to be careful what you wish for. You always thought about Daniel putting himself in your place, and it happened. Ever since the kiss, Hyeju’s been chattier with him, and he pulls her close the way you used to, and she smiles at him like she used to at you, except that it’s wider now. They’re together. Officially together; you’ve seen their Instagram posts. 

Moreover, she’s happier than ever, flourishing without you.

And you? You’re still stuck in that noraebang, replaying that fateful kiss over and over in your head. Each time you close your eyes you see Hyeju and Daniel in a passionate liplock. It’s the kiss that ruined what you had with Hyeju and has made your quality of life deteriorate. You didn’t know that Hyeju makes up almost every part of your day. Mornings are empty without your stroll with her. Post-exam nights aren’t as fun when she’s not there to bring drinks. Afternoons are lonely when she’s always out with Daniel.

You hate the fucker. He knew you liked Hyeju. You’ve told him about it right before the thing he did with her even happened, so it’s impossible that he’d forget. Besides, like he said, the two of you are always together. He surely would have picked up the signs. Unfortunately, he whisked her away just like that.

You dislike to feel like the scheming guy in coming-of-age films who doesn’t get the girl, but it’s the perfect portrayal of your emotions.

Wake up for class. She does, too. You have the decency to not gawk at how good she looks even in a casual tank top and plaid shorts, but she doesn’t even try to hide that she’s staring at you. Just not for the same reason, you assume. You’re just her boy best friend. With the way things are, you aren’t even a friend to her anymore.

You smear cheese onto a soft slice of bread. Still, her eyes are on you. From the corner of what takes up your vision, you could tell that she’s trying to figure out how to make this less awkward. You’d think that an eternity’s worth of effectively giving each other the cold shoulder would make her learn how to do it. She’s a smart girl anyway. She should have figured that out.

“You know… you can’t just keep ignoring me.”

Freeze—it’s the first time she’s spoken to you in a while. And you weren’t prepared for that. It’s like someone threw a punch in your stomach, but it’s also a breath of fresh air. How those two feelings could converge into each other you don’t know. 

“So stop it, will you?” she continues. She swings her legs out of the duvet and places her hands snug on the edge of her bed. “Stop treating me like I’m a…”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m your fucking ex,” Hyeju snarls. The duvet crumples in her fist.

Scoff. Fold the bread slice tight onto the other squared end. Talk about a good morning. “Ex? We were never a thing, Hye… ju.” 

Right, it isn’t like that anymore. You can’t call her Hye like the old times.

The hurt that registers on her face, still pretty in the midst of pain, comes by so fast it would take a magnifying glass to see it clearly. Now she’s the one scoffing. She recovers quickly from the stifled nickname so well that you never would have guessed you disarmed her. “That’s the thing. You’re right—we weren’t boyfriend-girlfriend. So why are you acting like I’m a ghost?”

“I wonder why,” you say. “Couldn’t be because you kissed me then decided to kiss another guy while I was away. Nope, totally out of the question.”

What happened? It seems like just yesterday the two of you were throwing insults and playfully quarreling with each other like it’s natural. This is a real disagreement here. This can’t be resolved with a smile or hug. You and Hyeju aren’t like that anymore. It’s a thing of the past.

Just like your friendship.

“If you’d just let me explain—”

“You know what? I don’t have time for this. Go with Daniel to class. Have a good life with him. Just call me if you get lost.”

Don’t even try to take a bite out of your cheese sandwich. You leave it on the table. Later, it’ll become stale and cold, similar to your friendship with Hyeju, or whatever kind of fucked up relationship you have.

You storm out of the dorm. You’re glad to get out—you’re already worried about the test later and the night class with miss Wong. Don’t need a situationship to take up your mind either. 

The day passes like a car on a rocky, jagged road. It’s difficult to muster a smile to the freshmen the moment you come in to help miss Jeong teach, or work on your test when that argument with her fills your mind rather than equations you should have memorized. The whole day is torture, and you don’t dare wish it on anyone. Not even that asshole Daniel

“What’s up with you today?” people ask you. “You sure you’re alright?” “Where’s Hyeju?”

You don’t answer.

When the night comes, it’s relief for your sore mind and body. That test beat you up and the sun was too cruel to your skin. Even if night classes could last till the brink of dawn, you don’t mind. Take comfort in the fact that it’s only a discussion and nothing more. 

Barely listen though. Two a.m. creeps by and you haven’t taken in a thing. Usually miss Wong would have you focused, keeping in mind that she’s strict and merciless, but you’re too tired today. Your bones ache though you didn’t do much walking. They’re only symptoms of heartbreak.

You don’t want to see a doctor. In fact, you want to get worse.

Miss Wong looks up at the clock. “Is it alright if I extend for just five minutes?” she asks. Her pencil skirt struggles to contain her strides on the platform.

A chorus of mixed responses echo in the classroom. Others, the top students in particular who participate in every club you could name, say it’s fine. Some already have excuses to make: they need to work on homework; they have other classes to go to; every excuse existing. You don’t know which side you’re on—you don’t want to come home to another angry night with Hyeju, and at the same time, you can’t be assed to stay.

Then—

Ringing. It’s all you hear. Your classmates’ voices drown out in it. It’s supposed to be soft, but it isn’t anymore when everyone shuts their mouth in alarm. Look here, look there. You don’t know where it’s coming from. 

Your hint is the light in your pocket. Fish it out. It’s coming from your phone.

“I thought I told you guys to put your cellphones on mute during class,” Wong says, sighing. Her glare shoots you a warning.

Okay, you’d say sorry to her and put your phone away. Drop the call. Anything. But the first thing you do is wonder:

Why the fuck is Son Hyeju calling you?

Aside from all the tension between you, your natural instinct is to answer. Your next is to ask her, “Hye?”

“Oppa…” comes her voice from your speaker.

Before you could wonder why she’s calling, you notice that Hyeju’s voice is… lonely. Yes, lonely. That’s the word you’d use right away if you’re asked to describe it. No, it can’t be just that. It’s mixed with something else. It’s higher, a little more groggy.

Forget that you were fighting. Forget that she kissed Daniel and broke your heart. She wouldn’t call if it isn’t something even her pride can’t protect. “Hyeju? What’s wrong?” 

“I’m lost.” 

-

Those are the two words she utters before breaking into sobs. You’ve never heard or seen Hyeju cry. She likes to treat problems with anger rather than sadness, slicing away at every conflict with groans and cursing professors for low grades. If she’s crying, it must mean something’s wrong. Something’s very, very wrong.

You’re keenly aware that all eyes and ears are monitoring your moves, but you don’t care. You rise from your seat and start gathering your laptop into your bag. You forget about your notes. Fuck them. Hyeju comes first. 

“Where did you go, Hye?” Walk out of the class. If miss Wong has a problem with that, she can tell you about it tomorrow. 

Sniffles on her end. Her quiet, low cries break your heart. “I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I need you, oppa. I have… I have nobody else. Please come and get me.”

“Hyeju—”

“Please,” she whispers. Her voice lowers to a whine. “I’m alone. I’m so alone.”

Tears itch at the bottoms of your eyes. You have to come and get her. Need to forget the fight and silent treatment that ensued. All that means nothing if Hyeju’s in need of your help.

Where the fuck are your keys? Remove them from the loop of your jeans and click the button. In the driveway, your car’s headlights shine. Yep, there it is. You once regretted buying a secondhand car like that. Now that it can get you to Hyeju, you vow to take care of it for life. You’d spend thousands to repair it if it breaks down.

But right now, it’s Hyeju who’s breaking down. She’s all alone somewhere and she needs you. In a way, you need her, too. She’s the one who’s braver to admit it.

You’ve never driven faster in your entire life. All the while you stay on the line with Hyeju. Your grip on the wheel tightens whenever she lets out a hopeless little sob. She’s crying so hard that you want to roll into a ball in the corner and cry, too. You can’t do that. You have to be the stronger one, the one who comes to her like she’s done for you and tells her that everything’s going to be alright.

You make no promises. 

Eventually you coax a location out of her and break several speed limits. Ignore the cops that yell at you. They can all go and fuck off. Hyeju needs you. You’re her best friend. It’s what friends do.

“Motherfucker,” you curse, upon seeing that the location she led you to was a club. It’s hidden in the corner of a creepy alley. “Hyeju, are you drunk?”

“Nooooo…” she drawls, giggling through her tears. “Your voice is so nice, oppa. It really makes me feel better. Did’ya know that?”

No time to be flattered. You burst into the club and find her in the midst of flashing lights and crowds of bodies. Your ears ring because of the music. Whose idea was it to hire this DJ? He thinks he’s doing such a good job, too. 

Hyeju’s in the center of it all. Her black coat is too big for her, but so is the crowd. When it moves, it drags her along by the toes. She’s… smiling? Wasn’t she crying on the phone just minutes earlier? Maybe she drank more. This can’t be good.

“Hyeju!” Start walking faster. 

She sticks her tongue out at you and starts to sprint upon seeing you get close.

You have no time for games. This isn’t even in the least bit funny. What if someone spiked her drink? What if that was the reason she’s acting funny? Worse: what if someone’s planning to take advantage of her? All these concerns bump into each other in your head as you run after her. 

A couple of “excuse me”s and “sorry!”s after you quickly squeeze in between dancing people. Drinks spilled on the floor. Anger from two dolled up ladies. (A look to your right and… yep, not only from them.) Disapproval from the DJ who even calls you out. Boos from the crowd. You don’t care about them. You only care about getting Hyeju to safety. She can’t be here in her vulnerable state.

Before she could dash out from your line of vision, you grab her wrist. Seal your grip around it tightly so she can’t escape. “Son Hyeju,” you say, glaring at her. Ever since she stopped crying, she started to play around. This isn’t a game but to her it is. A fun game, to be more precise. “What the fuck is going on?”

“Oooh, you caught…” She burps. Playful giggles spill from her mouth. “... me!” Hyeju gives you a drunken smile and claps for you regardless of her right hand being held into position. 

“Why are you here?”

“Why are you here? See? I can ask stupid q-questions, too!”

You whisk her away from the ongoing party and into the cold night air. You’re about to throw your jacket on her when you see that she’s wearing one, too. 

People are starting to stare. Pray that no one intervenes, even if they have good intentions. After all, you’re a man with a woman under the influence. They have every right to be concerned, but you hope that just for now they know you wouldn’t dare hurt Hyeju.

The wind blows a breeze that almost knocks you to the floor. You draw Hyeju to yourself to warm her. You can’t risk her catching a cold. 

”Let me go, oppa!” Hyeju’s mood goes from sad to drunkenly cheerful to pained. She forces her wrist out from your fist harshly. Your arms no longer wrap her. “You don’t like me anymore, right? And I have a boyfriend!”

Capture her hand again. She can’t escape and run away a second time. You’ve done that too much to know that it’ll send her down into a dizzying spiral. You’re cowards, the both of you—that’s why you flee whenever a problem arises. You don’t know how to deal with it. 

That changes now. Get in your vehicle. Pull her in, too. “For your information,” you say, locking her seatbelt in place, “you called me. You asked me to pick you up.”

The car roars to life and speeds down the road. The night barely provides light for you to move along. It’s beautiful nevertheless. Stars peek out from the depths of black. The moon is dim yet reassuring. What fate does it have in store for you? Would you accept it if you knew? How could they all look so serene while you have your drunk crush next to you starting an argument?

“And you’d loooove not to do it, wouldn’t you?” Hyeju’s words suggest that she’s no longer that drunk but the way her words come out like jumbled words in a newspaper crossword tell you otherwise. She leans against the door and crosses her arms. “It was a mistake to call you. You, you fucking hate me.”

Does she really believe that? You may hate Daniel, but you never once hated Hyeju. You’ve only had wistful feelings for her even after she kissed him. You still checked up on her socials and watched her as she ate lunch with him. You remained loyal to her, like a dog following its owner through scoldings.

Yeah, you really are just her dog.

“I don’t hate you, Hye,” you say with conviction. You’re determined to make her believe that. It’s difficult when you’ve never been the type to be good with words. 

“Yes, you do! You wouldn’t even let me explain why I kissed Daniel!”

“For fuck’s sake, I was hurt! I didn’t know what to do!”

“Then hear me out for once!”

“Alright.” Your hands slap the wheel, unintentionally bumping the horn and causing Hyeju to cringe. “Go on. Tell me what happened.”

“He was the one who kissed me, the fucking idiot! He kissed me out of the blue and wouldn’t stop!”

Wait.

What? 

Daniel, your friend and Hyeju’s, initiated the kiss? Hyeju didn’t want it to happen?

If only you knew, you would have beaten up Daniel a long time ago. 

You can’t even speak. You had it all wrong. You can’t believe there was an explanation for everything and you refused to hear it. 

Hyeju begins to sob again. Her words circle in the air like an incantation. It’s equally because of the alcohol and her emotions. “I was… talking to him about my training, but then he kissed me.” She wipes her face and laughs humorlessly. “He started making out with me and, a-and I didn’t know how to stop it. It was like I was frozen.”

“You… you didn’t kiss him?” Your tone is broken and incredulous. “He made you do it?”

She looks almost offended. “Why? Why would I ever kiss that bastard?”

“But you’re dating him.”

“I am,” says Hyeju, hands in her hair, “Hah, okay. I'm dating him, yeah, but that’s just because I thought you didn’t like me. I only want one person in the world, and it isn’t Daniel Smith.”

“Hyeju—”

“It’s you, you clueless little shit!” She punches your shoulder and muffles her face into your car pillow. Her next scream is elongated, filled with frustration. When she lifts her face from the pillow, her eyeliner and blush are smeared and wet with teardrops. “It’s you, and I only want you!”

In vino veritas.

The confession is as out of the blue as Daniel’s kiss was. You’re in a state of shock and disbelief—too much information is coming into your brain. You want to punch Daniel in the face for shocking her with an unwanted move. You want to hug Hyeju. You want to tell her that you’re sorry for not hearing her side of the story. 

Most importantly, you want to tell her that you want her, too.

It’s too late now. She’s seen you disregard her voice and choose to have a one-track mind. There’s no way she wants you anymore.

“Why the fuck would you ever want me, Hyeju?” 

“Because!” She lets out a shivering little sigh. “You don’t treat me like… hlk, like I’m a trophy to show off. You’re my friend. You know how to be mean but you take care of me even if I’m too moody sometimes. Even if I don’t want to come along with you outside because I’m scared I’ll make myself look stupid in front of you. Even if… even if I love too hard but don’t show that I love you most and that sometimes you take care of me more than my dad does and I know it’s wrong to see you that way when I’m with him now but I really want you to take care of me but still kiss me too if I need it and be okay with me calling you names like ‘daddy’ and still being your best friend besides being my boyfriend… but I know it can’t happen anymore and I ruined everything—”

“Hyeju.”

More tears flow down her face. “—and I know you won’t ever love me the same again but I’ll regret forever, long after we graduate, that I never showed that I loved you, that I was a coward—”

“Hyeju,” you say, gently. Pull over at the university parking lot. You have your finger on her mouth, sealing them to stop her droning. She pauses. She doesn’t do it without breaking down. “Please. Don’t tell me you don’t know it. It’s been happening under your nose every single day.”

“What?” she murmurs, eyes glassy as they connect with yours.

“I like you, too.”

Silence. Several beats go by. They’re too lengthy to be fake. The next nuance confirms that:

Talk about relief. Talk about passion. As if she’s forgetting that a sudden kiss was what opened Pandora’s box, Hyeju grabs your face and does exactly that. Again, it has too many things to it that blocks it from being faux. The unique shape of her lips mold onto yours, as if your lips were made to kiss each other all the time. It’s back to the café again, wherein she does something and you subconsciously follow along. Your hands are on her phenomenal waist. And soon you’re unbuckling her seatbelt so she could sit safely on your lap, where she’s supposed to be. Where she belongs.

She drops her touch to your shoulders. She massages them, and you groan delightfully. Now it’s your turn to hold her face and lean in closer. Hyeju’s mouth tastes of sweetness and alcohol. You don’t know how those two tastes could mix together. Hyeju makes it work.

“Oppa, daddy,” she whimpers. She pulls away. The distance is still close to nothing. “Daddy, I love you.”

It’s a sudden nickname, still detached from when she uses it with you jokingly, yet there’s no hesitance here. You know your truth. “I love you, too, Hyeju.”

“Will you take me to bed?” She starts grinding down on your shaft needily. “Please say you will, daddy. Please say you’ll make me happy.”

“You’re drunk. I… I don’t know if I should.”

“‘m not. Maybe. But I’ve wanted it to happen for a long time,” Hyeju says. “I won’t mind, I promise.”

She couldn’t get any more sober with that. So you do what any man would do if they were called daddy by Son Hyeju: lift her out of your car, not caring to check twice if it’s locked, and bring her to bed. Take her coat off—she won’t need it if you’ll make her warm from the inside and out.

Her arms round your neck and her face is buried in your chest. Her words come out in a desperate, needy tone that you haven’t heard from her since the day you met. Who exactly were you to make her this small?

Her daddy, of course.

See, as tough as Hyeju makes herself out to be, she’s still needy. She still has her own problems that haven’t let go of her now that she’s older, like the daddy thing. You only fully understand it now when you lay her on the bed and continue kissing her. Hard. Her moans call out for you. They aren’t merely things to whine if it feels good. It’s not even a matter of want anymore; her shivers and cries indicate of her carnal need for you to do what you will with her.

“Don’t be scared,” she tells you, closing her eyes as you kiss her perfect jawline. “You wanted me for so long, right? Well, I did, too. Do what you want to me. Fuck me, daddy.”

“You talk extremely dirty for someone who’s drunk,” you chuckle. 

“Not so drunk anymore. You make me sober.”

“Sweet talker. You’re all bark and no bite.”

Hyeju has no retort to make. Your lips on her gorgeous nipple render her speechless. The cute pink nub is hard, and grows harder at your loving suckles. Her breasts are the perfect size for squeezing. Relish in that fact by squeezing her left breast while dedicating more of your attention to the other, making her become sensitive with each action. 

You’d say you have bite, for you do so lightly on her breast. She gasps. “Daddy!” she cries out.

“Fuck, don’t say it like that.” Your cock throbs already. It’s the same feeling you get all those times before, the times you’d get into an argument with Hyeju and she’d call you that.

“What? It’s not my fault you can’t handle me,” she says wittily.

“Don’t try me.”

“What?” She cocks a brow. “Hit too close to home?”

You have to shut her bratty self up. Tug her pants off, sliding them off her silky legs. Her pink panties are a hint to the gentle color of her pussy. Find out about them anyway—push the underwear aside and shove three fingers in her.

“Oh shit.” Hyeju’s squeeze on your digits is instant, like an impulsive reaction. 

Think about if Daniel has done this to her before and pick up the pace. You’re fingering her like the walls of her soaked pussy would banish him and let you have her all to yourself. “Son Hyeju,” you growl, “shut the fuck up.”

“W-won’t—ah!” 

If you don’t make her quiet, you’ll at least reduce her words to pathetic moans. You’d say you’re successful. Your rapid thrusts send Hyeju’s screams paralleling the night wind with their strength. 

You’re surprised again and again at how loud she could get. She’s always so quiet except for the occasional sarcastic remark. She can make no more of those if faced with the relentless fingering you do unto her pussy. They draw out strings of dampness when they withdraw, and fill her right to the knuckles when you go back in. Her hips squirm and you have to place a hand on her thigh to continue.

“Daddy, daddy, daddy!” she screams. Her mouth is open while she sits up to look at what you’re doing to her vulnerable cunt. “It feels so fucking good, don’t stop!”

She looks beautiful. Her shirt is lifted above her breasts, making them bounce madly due to the timing and force of your thrusts. Her eyes could never be more watchful. She can’t believe she actually has you between her legs and fingering her to orgasm.

“Got any comeback for me, Hye?” you ask smugly. 

Hyeju nods. Her lips are parted again. Although you haven’t had sex with her except for now, you know what that dropped jaw means: she’s close.

Her walls are impossible to part completely. She’s too damn tight that you bet she’d still be so with one finger. The grip of her slippery, wet cunt is like no other. You reach deep into it and stroke out till you find the place. That’s how Hyeju starts to shiver. She can’t manage it.

“Oh, yeah? What do you have to say now, sweet?” Wrap your lips around her nipple. It’s another one of your unfair advantages over her.

“I-I-I—I can’t!” 

The recoil of Hyeju’s tits is amazing. Harshly squeeze the boob you’ve relatively neglected to make sure she can’t get a word out of those pretty lips. Take a further step and smack it, too. She moans in satisfaction. Your harsh squeezes imprint a replica of your hand on her pale skin. 

Of course, you don’t forget to keep your fingers going. You change techniques now and then, switching from gentle circling to rapid fire shoving. Whether it’s one or the other, Hyeju’s fuckhole swallows you up. She doesn’t mind which or what; she needs your harshness the most. It’s what counts as a whole.

“Daddy, I’m gonna cum! Please make me cum on your fingers, make your babygirl cum… oh—oh, fuck!”

Combined with your thumb nudging her small clit and your digits absolutely destroying her tightness, Hyeju does the unthinkable: she squirts on your hand and on your bed. Liquid gushes on your shirt; it’s so consistent and clear that a new determination is founded within you. It’s to make your unbearably hot best friend cum like she never has.

For the record, it’s the first time you’ve made a girl squirt. You didn’t expect that it would be this satisfying. Seeing Hyeju’s blissful face and the shake of her beautiful legs make your efforts worth it. Watching yourself do it to your best friend and make her feisty, boyish self let out screams and pleas brings increased triumph.

“No, oh god, it’s too much!” Hyeju says this but her legs part more. Her head is tossed back and her moans don’t stop. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, I can’t—daddy!”

“Messy little brat.” Rub away at her clit. Feel the spurt of her cum hit your finger. “That’s it, cum for daddy. Keep those pretty thighs open.”

Hyeju mewls at the mixture of degradation and moans. If Daniel had said that to her, she probably would have thrown up in a bucket. When it’s you, on the other hand, everything changes. She wants you to call her every harsh name out there and accompany it with sides of praise. She’ll only feel this good when she’s with you.

Hyeju is anything but obedient. Things change here in the dorm, where her pussy is spread and prone to your touch. Her midriff, soft yet slender, rises over and over. The hose of her wet orgasms still hasn’t stopped.

“Goddammit, you’re squirting so much. Am I that good, hm, Hyeju? Is daddy that good to his pretty little girl?” 

“Mmm, mmm, don't— no more, daddy, no more!” Hyeju’s core is already spent, and you haven’t even put your cock in her yet. 

Stop. Not before you leave a kiss to the sensitive bundle of nerves that you abused. It’s a mark now, something invisible that subtly says to everyone that you got to fuck her. You got to fuck Son Hyeju. You made her cum like never before.

Spit on Hyeju’s center then spread it to her lips and nub. She moans. “You’re so wet, Hye.”

“Whatever.” She’s blushing. “I’ve had better.”

You have to say you’re a little provoked. You know it’s false seeing the smug look on her face and after making her squirt, but who exactly has done her better? Daniel? Definitely not him. The possibility still does well to spur you to jealousy.

“Oh,” you say, smiling tightly, “so that’s how it’s gonna be, huh?”

Hyeju gasps happily when she’s pushed to the wall and on her knees. It’s reminiscent of how Daniel did exactly that: pinning her to the wall before kissing her. Your anger brews into a fire just thinking about him. 

“Yeah. What’re you gonna do about it?”

Unbuckle your belt. Your jeans join it on the floor as well as your briefs. “I’m gonna clean that dirty mouth of yours.”

“And how are you gonna do that, daddy?” Hyeju pretends not to know what’s coming.

It’s your belief that actions speak louder than words. That’s why when you place your cock in between Hyeju’s lips, it resonates inside her more than your promise to purify her mouth. Logic fails here when dirty sins can’t remove Hyeju’s dirty words. One wrong and another doesn’t make a right. Oh, who cares? This isn’t a class. This isn’t your thesis. You focus only on feeling the softness of her triangular mouth, the wetness of the back of her throat.

Holding your cock by the base, you lead its tip into rubbing every corner of Hyeju’s mouth. Her cheeks make an outline of your girth as you press your head against them. Her jaw becomes slack after you press your dick down to her tongue. You’re technically doing all the work here because you’re fucking her face, but you’d argue that Hyeju contributes just as much with her tearful eyes that are more puppy than wolf.

The shape of her wet orifice leaves ample space for you to rub against everything. Your tip draws a triangle on her lips right before slipping inside. There you keep your word and clean her dirty mouth. Push those naughty words down her throat with immediate thrusts. That way, she can only moan, nothing else. No sass can be heard from her now.

“You’re such a bad girl, Hyeju,” you say. Curl your hand ‘round her messy hair and direct it downwards. She groans, her mouth now upright for yout fuck easier into. “You shouldn’t like having your mouth used like this. You shouldn’t be on your knees for your best friend when your boyfriend’s waiting for you at home.”

Hyeju knows you’re right. She shouldn’t. She isn’t supposed to enjoy having her throat rammed and spread. She shouldn’t be cheating on the man she claims to love. It’s a mistake of hers to be here anyway, underneath another man. 

Her second mistake is to like everything the way it is..

Her third is to tongue your shaft like she would a sweet treat. She wants to taste all of you, from your thick tip to the base. She’s not had much to work on with Daniel, but she knew it would be a good time when you sprung out your cock. She makes this worth it—she seals her lips at your base, her nose pressed firmly at the bottom of your tummy, then produces such a harsh suction that the grip you have in her black locks of messy hair tightens. A curse is what you let out besides precum. 

“Fuck,” you say. Pull her head closer. Aggressive thrusts fire away. “Didn’t know your pouty little lips could suck dick so well. I bet it’s bulging your throat. Is daddy right about that?”

She tries to nod. Her gags stop her intended action; your thrusts have sped up and are now destroying her tight throat. No space is left for her to breathe when her mouth is stuffed with your length. Even her nostrils can’t take in much air if her nose is pressed that tightly to your stomach.

Place a hand on the wall in order for there to be no aches for her head when you thrust wildly. “You know, I changed my mind. Maybe you’re a good girl, especially with that face. Go on, touch yourself. I know you want to.”

Permission is granted by her daddy. Hyeju gives a cry in response then leads her hand between her legs. Letting you fuck her face has made her wet beyond imagination. She doesn’t need to press directly on her pussy when there’s slick all over her thighs. She gathers them all up and places them back in her pussy. She moans as she swirls her digits inside her. Here’s how it works: she has one hand masturbating, and the other on your thigh to caress it and at the same time keep her balance.

Take note of that. “You’re a smart girl, Hyeju. Smart girls shouldn’t be letting their faces get fucked. We can’t have that happen, right?”

You say that yet your actions tell a different story. Your violent pumps into Hyeju’s mouth to use it to the limits are endless. Hyeju’s moaning. She enjoys it more than she should. Of course, you jam those moans, as pretty as they are, down her throat. 

Slap your cock on her lips.

“You know what I mean.”

Slip the whole of your length out then in again. Make her brush those luscious lips against every inch.

“We really, really can’t have that happen.”

Caress her cheek. Her eyes are awaiting and obedient. Look down into them and almost feel bad for ruining her, your best friend.

“Daniel might walk in anytime. He’ll be looking for you.”

Your movements are cruel as time goes by. You shouldn’t be treating your best friend like this. You shouldn’t even be having sex with her. All of these ought to stop you in your tracks—you don’t.

“And what will he say when he sees his precious girlfriend on her knees for his best friend?”

Hyeju begins to whine. She doesn’t want him to walk in; she’s enjoying this too much. What she doesn’t want to happen even more is for you not to blow your load inside her warm throat. People can’t have what they want all the time, but she swears she won’t want anything else if you just give her what she wants. That’s for you to absolutely use her. Be cruel to her and it wouldn’t sting.

“He’ll start to think how better you are with me. You’re a bad girl, Hyeju. You know that and you still want me.”

You’re right in every way. She is better with you. You just fuck her better, treat her better, kiss her better. She can’t kiss better the wound she’ll leave in Daniel if he just so happens to walk in. Maybe she could, but she’d put salt on it when he discovers how good you make her feel. It isn’t fair to anybody. To you, the one she accidentally hurt; to Daniel, who was the one (no, make that the two with how he was her last resort and how she gave him false hope); to her, who can’t go without you.

“Let go.”

Nine.

It takes exactly nine strokes in between her folds for her to cum. Drool sheens your girth. Some even drip from her mouth. It’s like she’s in heat; she’s whining as she tries to cum and suck you off at the same time. Hyeju ends up sucking your shaft with desperation, legs quivering and threatening to give away.

“Cum with me, Hyeju,” you command her. Pull out, rather regretfully, but take comfort with how pretty she’d look covered in your cum. Your hand wraps around you and jerks you off. Although it can’t match Hyeju’s mouth or her ass, it’ll do well in shooting your load on her.

Your best friend keeps calling your name squeezed between “daddy”s as she fingers herself to orgasm. She collapses pathetically on the floor, in a pool of sweat and cum. Her shirt and the floor of your shared dorm room are stained. No need to wonder where those white stains come from; the only suspects are you and Hyeju. It’s a partnered crime for her squirt comes out at such a velocity that it rivals your cumshots.

“Take my load, Hyeju, fuck!”

If there’s anything Hyeju isn’t, it’s submissive. It somehow changes when she nods and opens her mouth. You’re introduced to a whole new side of her. Her post-orgasm face is one you hope to admire everyday. Look at the expressions she makes when her eyes are crossed and her tongue is out for you and you have difficulty choosing between the two. 

You and Hyeju exchange a tired look. If you’re to be specific, a look is how everything starts. You became friends with her because she was staring at you too long a time in class. You quickly reunited with her in college when you looked to your back to see to whom the familiar voice belonged. It took one quick glance to see that Daniel had kissed her in the noraebang.

Similarly, a look is what causes you to shamelessly throw Hyeju on the bed again. By now her limbs curl into yours like this were a completely natural thing that happened between you, as if she were always being fucked and manhandled like this. Your kisses now are more aggressive, too. They aren’t nervous like earlier, when you still weren't sure if doing this was right. Hyeju responds by engaging in a battle for dominance, pushing forward and pulling the forces connecting you. 

You win in the end.

Slam her back down to the mattress. Her anticipation is written clearly in her eyes. “I’m going to ruin you, Son Hyeju,” you say.

She laughs in your face. “Bet.”

Alright. You’ll show her. It’s a friendly bet you’ll take all seriousness in.

Align your dick with her waiting cunt. You shed all attempts to tease her or dive into foreplay. What she needs is your cock inside her, rearranging her insides. If that’s so, you’ll give it to her. 

“Oh!” Hyeju gasps. Her pretty eyes are big above her hands covering her face. She never guessed you would feel this good inside her. “You’re so fucking big, daddy. It's, it’s better than I imagined, fffuck.”

Steer all your weight into this thrust specifically. Your tip makes contact with her G-spot and sends her legs shaking. Send her a couple inches further on the mattress. Her godly tits begin another round of bouncing. There’s no other routine you’d love to watch. 

Already you've put your hands on her hips. They’re to pull her closer if she gets lost. Again. You have to make sure you won’t lose her this time. This chance was given to you for a reason. You have to keep her here, show her all the love you’ve kept bottled up all these years.

Hyeju squirms a lot. That’s what your grip is for. It’s to keep her on the bed so she can easily receive your pumps. And what a good job she does at receiving them—Hyeju’s hips shiver as they’re subjected to a force her sensitive pussy can’t handle. She’s always going into things she can’t handle. This is no different. Time with Daniel was okay, but you’re a different story. You ensure that she’s always filled to the hilt until she’s bottoming out. 

Deeper and deeper you go. Your cock knocks up into her tummy. You curse; it’s hotter than it’s supposed to be. Something as simple as that shouldn’t be so arousing.

“Oh, you like that? You… you like seeing your big cock stuffing my little pussy?” asks Hyeju. Her teeth are parted to let in air she so desperately needs to formulate these words. She knows they’ll turn you on. “I know you do, daddy. Look at your meat ruining my insides. You’re going to cum so much inside me. And I’ll take it all. I’m a good girl. I’ll show you I’m a good girl.”

She leads your hand to her throat and closes your digits around it. Get the message. Squeeze there tight. Her strangled gasp is everything.

“You are, huh?” you say. Your composure is long gone. “Are you always this tight, Hyeju? Are you always this good? Or is it just for daddy?”

There’s something incredibly hot in the way Hyeju gushes and screams for you. Her nipples stand in the air, aroused by the quick penetrating done to her pussy. It seems almost impossible for her to be this wet. Each push of your hips brings forth a gush of wetness that wets the sheets and your joined crotches. Bring out your cock for a second to quickly flick its tip on her clit.

Hyeju gropes her own chest with closed eyes. “Ohhhh, fuck!” 

Return to your routine of drilling her. Her whole body reacts violently to your pounding. Moreover, every part of Hyeju’s beautiful body screams to be touched. Her jiggling thighs and breasts, her midriff prone to your thrusts, her face that’s never looked this slutty… where should you start? Your touch is given multiple choices, and you choose all of them. Your hands roam her body and squeeze and feel and grope. In response, she moans. The volume of her acute voice turns up with each, almost like her body has triggers that would draw out louder sounds. 

You think of it that way and now Hyeju’s screaming as you propel inside her while keeping a hand on her clit. 

“Daddy, o-only you, daddy!” she proclaims in a helpless scream. “No one can make me feel as good as you do, just keep fucking me, don’t stop!”

You’ve got your answer. Smile in satisfaction and, since she’s a good girl and gave the correct response, lean it to worship her breasts. Does slapping them count as worshiping? Hyeju thinks it does—her high groans and yells are enough to be context clues. You marvel at the size of her chest, so subtle with the baggy clothes she wears but now in their full, naked glory before you. It’s impossible for them to be presented to you without a squeeze being done.

“You like my tits, daddy? I’ll let you fuck them all you want, just finish inside me. I’m safe today. Promise, p-pro—”

Bury yourself deep inside her, to the point that your cockhead pushes at her cervix. Fill her up. Hyeju moans happily. She rolls her body up and down. The stimulation seduces you into making (kind of) breeding her a job well done.

“Thank you, daddy.” she sighs. She’s still erotically grinding her hips. It’s karma for overstimulating her a little earlier when your fingers filled her. 

“S-stop, Hyeju.”

“Stop? Alright, sure. I think that’s enough now. Daddy doesn’t want to fuck my tits anymore.”

Naughty little brat. She knows just the right words to tick you off and turn you on. It makes you want her to pound her into the bed again so that not even the old mattress can forget that it was the place you and Hyeju fucked.

“I’m just kidding, silly. Sit down! Yes, thank you.” 

She flashes you a smile after you do as she says. It’s a rare moment in this session with her that she has the say in what happens. Somehow. It can’t be completely true, not when she’s on her knees again for you. Not when her tongue trails worshipful lines on your cock and draws tight licks on your tip. Shiver. You’re a bit sensitive yourself.

“Now see how good this feels?” 

She takes her glorious breasts in her hands and wraps them around your cock. You let out a guttural moan. Hyeju’s tits rival her mouth and pussy. It’s a close competition, with the advantage of softness most of all. Oh, when she starts to move, gliding her supple skin up and down your size, you almost cum on the spot.

Her bosom is a portal to heaven, you swear. Your legs feel light. Your core is hot as your size disappears between her breasts, buried in the soft and safe haven she provides. The friction is so overwhelming that you doubt it could even be a real sensation.

She makes a show of rubbing your tip on her nipple, similar to what you did to her clit. The two of you are sensitive, so you moan in harmony as it happens. After gliding your cock on her large breasts, she goes back to titfucking you. 

It’s all a matter of technique. Whenever she presses her chest together, your cock is suffocated with euphoric tenderness. On the other hand, when she simply moves up and down, you’re given the opportunity to grind down at the skin between her pale breasts. Each route leads to an inevitable fate: exploding all over her a second time.

"P-please stop, Hyeju," you say. You can't handle no more and there's so many more things you want to do to her.

"Awh." She pouts. Fat tears risk spilling from her eyes. God, she could be so cute sometimes. "What do you want, daddy? I can be good."

"Turn around."

"Ohhh, I see what you want." Hyeju turns around and spanks herself. Her ass ripples photogenically. "Of course. Of course you want it."

Hyeju can be so many things. A few minutes earlier she was a submissive babygirl for her daddy, and right before that she was a brat. Now, she transforms into a seductress. She doesn't lace or lingerie to become one. She has that fantastic body to do the work for her.

Hyeju starts to dance. Your eyes are trained on her. They never want to see anything else than her swaying her butt with a dancer's grace and charm. 

"Giving me a show, huh?" 

"Unless daddy wants it already." 

"I do."

She squeezes her ass cheek before reaching her pussy. Then, she rubs her wetness on her pink, puckered hole. She lathers some at the inside of the rim, too. She didn't expect to fuck you today, no matter how many times she's dreamed of it, so there's no lubricant around. Hyeju has to make do.

"Oh!" she squeals when you give her a playful smack on the ass. "Impatient. Daddy's impatient. Don't worry, I'll give it to you."

“You did this before?”

“Duh.” Hyeju smiles sweetly, quickly returning to her good girl side. “You ready now, daddy?”

Apparently, it’s a rhetorical question, for Hyeju immediately guides your tip into her backside. You do your part in spreading her cheeks. Both of you moan at the first contact. It’s difficult by itself to insert just your tip through. She’s too tight. 

You’re sinking into this long-chased dream. You’ve seen Hyeju walk around the dorm with no shorts on. Sometimes you're able to catch a glimpse of her bare ass when she dresses up in the dark. It’s normal when it’s with you, considering that your friendship transcends time, but she doesn’t know that yearning’s been put in your heart in those moments. You want her. You want Son Hyeju.

And now, she’s submitting herself to you. She’s given you her body, her tits, her pussy. Now she offers you an equally delicious choice: her supple ass that’s bouncy as it finally sits down completely on your lap. 

“Good daddies bounce their babygirls on their knees, right? Should’ve known that, dummy. So come on, pound me. It isn’t hard.”

Well, you are. Hyeju’s ass is constricting you yet you enjoy every second of it. Her tight little asshole clings to you as you do as she says. You’d do anything for Hyeju, and that doesn’t exclude engaging in anal sex with her.

Choose a rhythm to go by to enjoy the tightness Hyeju gives you to the fullest. She leans into you and hums quietly, lower lip worried between her teeth and ass steadily rising and resting. The flexes of your thigh also stimulate her needy pussy. Your knee brushes her clit steadily while your cock penetrates her asshole better than any toy could. Better than any boy would.

“Oh, that feels so good, daddy…” Hyeju murmurs. “Keep spreading me like that, yes.”

Just when she thought you’d switch to being gentle, your thrusts become sporadic. She can’t find which timings you’re going by. The calm before the storm, so to say. Hyeju’s whimpers and whines are your thunder, and they soon live up to their name when they grow louder, filling your ears as would the violent downpour of raindrops. 

“D-daddy, daddy, oh my god—” Pain partners up with pleasure in wrecking her hole. Darn you for reaching in front of her to rub her clit as well. Too many things are happening at the same time. “Daddy better make me cum, please, please—”

Your size fills the tight space of her ass so much that it’s difficult to move. The juices of her pussy that she’s used as makeshift lube can’t even do the job they’re assigned to. However, you don’t care about that. You simply fuck Hyeju’s fat, delectable ass like it’s been your long-term dream. In a way it is, but you’d be dreaming about it long after it’s already been fulfilled.

Hyeju stands up to take the lead and work her butt on you. You know she’s an excellent dancer but you never knew she could be this good at twerking either. 

“Holy shit, Hyeju, your little asshole feels amazing,” you moan. Spank her, though she’s undeserving of punishment when she’s amazing at using that ass.

“And your cock is so fucking big in my ass,” she says. “I don’t want anything else, daddy. Ohh, god, keep doing that.”

Her rear end bounces and claps together as they take in your fat cock. She looks back at you lustfully, watching you ruin her supple ass. Reach for her breasts to match the velocity of her thrusts. You’re two forces colliding, each filled with fire to defeat the other with pleasure. It’s a losing game when Hyeju’s ass is just as good as her pussy, which you continue playing with to bring her to orgasm.

“Good girl, Hye, keep bouncing that fat ass on daddy,” you whisper in her ear. Love to hear her weak little moans; they show you that she likes this as much as you do. Probably more. “You want to cum, right? You want to squirt on me again?”

“Yes, daddy, please!” Hyeju is in paradise although her skin feels like it’s been set on fire. She hasn’t felt this good before. “No other cock can do me the way you do, daddy, I’m all yours! Make me cum, cum inside me, daddy!”

You’ve changed her. She’s a totally different person outside of the bedroom. She hides her approval in sarcastic comments and teases you about them. How is it that she’s completely submissive and good for you? 

Your ego swells. Smack her pussy just enough to make her gasp. “Whose pussy is this?”

“Yours, daddy!” 

“And this ass?”

“It’s all yours, daddy,” sobs Hyeju. “Always so fucking big inside me, so much better, you need to make me cum—”

Pull her down to your lap then thrust inside her all while not letting an inch withdraw from her snug butthole. “Cum for me,” you say.

“Ohhhh fuck!” 

Hyeju begins her sexy body rolls again as a profane spray of clear liquid fires from her pussy. She’s so wet; when you rub her clit, a squelching sound is produced. She’s too turned on from the feeling of you savage pounding inside her. She slaps her own pussy to go along with your rubbing, then leads your fingers inside her cunt again. She’s still so tight. 

The combined feeling of two of her holes being violated has her tired. She could be murmuring a spell and you wouldn’t know because of how jumbled and jarred her words are. The syllables make out your name and title. At least, that’s what you could understand. It would take an experienced veteran transcriber to make sense of Hyeju’s sounds.

You blast her ass with so much cum that it overflows, like water threatening to spill from the brim of a glass. Your joined cores are so wet and sticky that neither of you feel like moving. You want to stay in the narrow yet pleasurable comfort of each other’s touch forever.

It’s so pleasant that you could only hear the gratifying sound of each other’s pants and not the knocks on your door.

So safe that you don’t hear the sound of a lock being skewered with because each other’s bodies are more homely than this dorm.

So distracting that when he comes in through the door and yells in disgust, it’s the first time you feel an awakening sobriety.

[onesidedradiostatic]

I feel like this fandom blames Vox's shitty behaviour too much on Alastor / Valentino

"Alastor rejecting him is the reason why he's like this in the present" this

"Valentino is the reason he's like this now" that

How about; Vox's shitty behaviour should be blamed on VOX because he's a shitty person and he's in hell for a reason.

Dunno I've seen many people baby him too much

idrk what's with the fandom's need to victimise vox so much honestly, what really pisses me off is that I've unironically seen a post with 200+ notes completely sympathising with vox like he's a baby going on about how alastor was completely using him and MADE him believe they had a mutual partnership, going about how TRAGIC vox is that he was rejected, absolutely ZERO sympathy for alastor whatsoever, completely painted as the singular master manipulator in their relationship, only used to talk about how bad they feel for babygirl vox. yes the unrequited feelings were brought up too and I cannot begin to say how bad it is to villainise the target of affection for not returning those feelings.

like okay... guess we will ignore how alastor presently has his irrational hatred of video now too (episode 1) which was likely a result of his falling out with vox that affected HIM too... no we will only think about how vox is the poor poor victim rejected by evil manipulator alastor mhm.... there's absolutely no chance alastor had any sort of genuine care for vox during that time whatsoever, he was just using him mhm mhm mhm

like look this isn't me trying to deny alastor being the type of person to do this but when you're ONLY painting alastor in the bad light and not giving vox any responsibility that's when I'm raising my eyebrows, I hate this type of black and white reading, like even with the hotel that we KNOW alastor has nefarious intentions for, there's some hint of genuine care there, is it so hard to think that that might've been the case back then with vox too? is it so hard to think that the relationship didn't just negatively impact vox but alastor too?

this is why I'm glad complicated (and sad!) is one of the ways they're described so I can hope for this take to be completely killed off when season 2 drops.

anyways, accidentally started ranting about radiostatic takes here I didn't even respond to the second part, I'm sure this one's been discussed at length but yes, the fact that this happens with both vox's relationships with val and alastor sure says something, like people LOOOVE to remove vox from responsibility of his own crimes/wrongdoings, no he must ABSOLUTELY be 100% the victim in all his relationships, there's no way he's done anything wrong...

[personasintro]

Mutual Help | #13

𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭: @kithtaehyung

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; in order for you to pretend to be his girlfriend, he helps you with your sexual desires ⏤ he calls it mutual help

⇢ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jungkook x reader

⇢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fake dating au, fluff, angst, smut, slow burn

⇢ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: explicit language, mature content

⇢ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.7k+

⇠ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯. | 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ⇢ 

Walking through another crowd of people, Jungkook finally manages to find Hoseok along with Taehyung and Jimin, just like Kiko told him. Jimin spots Jungkook approaching right away, waving him over which gains Hoseok's and Taehyung's attention.

Jungkook snorts at the sight of Taehyung's full cheeks, puffing out with a donut while the remaining dough is in his hand. He gives Jungkook a sheepish look, grabbing one of the napkins as he pats his lips with it.

"Hey, we were just talking about a little getaway and a camping trip came up as an idea. What do you think?" Jimin beams, eyes shiny with the idea of spending some free time with his friends.

Jimin is a very social person and likes to hang out with everyone, so naturally, whenever someone mentions a trip he's the one who's most excited and all for it.

"Yeah, sounds good," Jungkook mutters, barely paying attention to his friend as his eyes are settled on Hoseok.

Jimin almost pouts, shoulders dropping in defeat at Jungkook's dry response and the lack of enthusiasm.

"Can I talk to you?" he asks Hoseok, ignoring Jimin and Taehyung suspiciously glancing at each other.

"Sure." Hoseok shrugs in response, showing no sign of nervousness or discomfort. Not even a little bit of shock by the sudden presence of his friend that seems to be too eager to talk.

"Alone," he adds, eyeing his friends who stare at him with confusion. "Would you mind guys?" he asks them, eyes hinting that he'll explain later.

They understand, nodding right away as they scurry to another table full of deserts.

"What's this about?" Hoseok asks, brows furrowed as he stares at Taehyung and Jimin's distant bodies.

"You tell me," Jungkook sighs, glancing at his friend who looks at him. "Why are you acting so weird?"

He's not even sure how he can properly put out the right question. He hates confrontations and he hates that it's happening with Hoseok of all people.

"Care to elaborate?" he asks, raising a brow at him.

"You know what I'm talking about, Hobi," Jungkook sighs, irritated that he needs to be more specific with him. "You keep acting weird towards Y/N."

"I've barely even talked to her!" he exclaims, brows furrowed at Jungkook.

"Yeah, but you keep glaring at her at every chance you get. For fucks sake, even I noticed that. You really make her uncomfortable, I thought you had nothing against her. You were friendly when I introduced her to you."

Fuck, he's starting to have a headache.

"She was your best friend back then." he mutters, but loud enough for Jungkook to hear.

He feels a little bit offended by Hoseok's remark.

"What does it matter?"

"It matters," Hoseok says through clenched teeth, hiding his hands in the pockets of his black slacks. "Because now she's your girlfriend." he cringes at that, looking at Jungkook who stares at him dumbfounded.

"You like her or what?" he scrunches his brows in confusion, watching Hoseok's eyes widen.

"What? No!"

"Then what the heck is your problem?" he asks bluntly, no hint of anger in his voice but a pure confusion.

"How could you've moved on so quickly after the breakup with Kiko? And you chose Y/N of all people, your best friend that you swore you'd never date."

"I wasn't the one who broke up with her," he points out, clenching his teeth at the 'moved on' part.

Obviously, he hasn't moved on. He's still trying to win her back but with Hoseok questioning everything, it's harder than he planned it to be. And he can't exactly tell him that.

"And people change their minds, hyung." Jungkook remarks, seeing his friend isn't exactly buying it, judging by his scrunched brows and the same skeptical look.

"They can, I just didn't think you ever would. You know, considering how much you were in love with Kiko."

He wants nothing more than to voice out his true feelings, scream them in frustration but he can't. And even the obvious disappointment in Hoseok's voice makes him feel like an asshole.

"Why does this even matter? Kiko broke up with me without any rational reason!" he exclaims frustratedly, pinching the bridge of his nose before he sighs.

He looks at Hoseok, who sets his lips into a straight line and looks away for a brief moment. But it's not brief enough for Jungkook not to notice.

"Wait—" Jungkook speaks up, seeing how Hoseok sucks in breath as he shifts in his spot. "Unless, that wasn't the real reason."

When Hoseok coughs and looks away once again, Jungkook knows his intuition is right. He steps closer towards his friend, almost ready to grasp his suit to pull him closer but he stops when he notices Hoseok's stressed expression.

"And you know why she broke up with me."

Realization hits Jungkook's face and he feels like he could be thrown up by the sudden news, not knowing whether he's supposed to be happy or upset by it. Before he starts stuttering and demanding Hoseok to tell him the truth, the older friend opens his mouth and gives him a look of pity.

"Jungkook," he sighs, brows raised up to his hairline. "It's not my place to say anything."

It makes Jungkook go feral. His head hurts from not knowing what to think and the idea of knowing something, just for it shuttering right away makes him want to whine in anger and desperation. Hoseok is nothing but loyal to his friends, but when it comes to Kiko, he'll always choose her. Even Jungkook knows that. That's why he always trusted Hoseok, got along with him even better because of it — because the love of his life was in good hands whenever Jungkook wasn't around. He could count on him.

And although he feels like he needs to show his anger and irritation, he can't stay mad at Hoseok. He sees it in his brown soft eyes how sorry he is.

"But there's something more, isn't it?"

He sounds hopeful, almost too hopeful to want to know the truth. He's showing how much he cares about the whole situation, probably destroying the reason why he came to talk to him in the first place and the need to assure him of your relationship.

So he holds his head high, hiding the sadness and desperation on his face as he looks at his friend with a raised brow.

But Hoseok just sighs and shrugs his shoulders, looking away from the younger friend who doesn't seem to be pleased by his response. If it's true, and there's something more to their breakup, Kiko probably won't tell him. She had a chance to talk to him multiple times, yet she took her time and never brought it up.

And with an obvious drop to his shoulders, Jungkook sighs and scratches his chin in irritation.

"Whatever it is, leave Y/N out of this please. She's innocent."

He's about to turn around, glad he made his point although he didn't think Hoseok would react in any way.

"I just hope you're not doing this to prove something, Jungkook." he calls out to him, causing Jungkook to slowly look at his friend who has a stern look on his face.

He tries not to gulp at the sight of him, noticing the same way he kept looking at you. But this time, he stares at Jungkook that way.

"Prove something? What are you talking about?"

He sounds confused, although he quickly caught onto the meaning behind his words.

"The whole relationship with Y/N. I hope it's not some twisted way to hurt Kiko."

He wanted to know what Hoseok thinks, to hear him say something and now that he brought it up, Jungkook seems to be shocked by the accusation. He'd never hurt Kiko. He wants her back.

"Of course not. I'd never hurt her." he tells his friend sternly, proving the honesty of his words with furrowed brows.

It seems like Hoseok wants to open his mouth, wanting something else to say but he leaves it open ajar instead and swallows whatever he was about to say.

Jungkook spots you sitting in the exact same spot like he left you, slowly sipping your drinks as you look around. When your eyes meet, yours widen as you wait for him to come closer.

He sits on the bar stool next to you, the same one Kiko sat just a few minutes ago, and before he can open his mouth you're quicker.

"How did it go? Please, tell me he's not suspecting anything." you plea, looking at him with doe eyes as you sip from your drink at the same time.

He grins, plopping his elbows onto the bar's desk before he scratches his forehead.

"Don't freak out," he says, knowing you won't listen to him, not even when you obediently nod at him. "I think he knows somehow this," he points out between you and him, "is fake."

"What?!" you shriek, shushed by him straight away as he scolds you.

"He thinks I'm doing this to hurt Kiko. Well, I have this feeling he thinks that."

The disgust in Jungkook's tone is evident, and you know how much he hates that idea — that his friend thinks such a thing.

You want to assure him that there's no way he's hurting her because she broke up with him, not the other way around. But you're suddenly reminded of her hurt expression and smile when she talked to you. And it all starts to make sense.

"What?" Jungkook notices straight away.

"Kiko sat next to me while you were looking for Hoseok. She apologized about Hoseok but then she mentioned something about us. She told me that she's happy that you've found someone else," you glance at Jungkook, noticing his clenched jaw, obviously not liking the thought of Kiko saying that.

He's trying to win her back, and knowing she said that makes his plan pointless.

"But I could see it, Kook." you add softly.

No matter how many times you've told yourself that Kiko hurt him and doesn't deserve him, you want him to be happy. Even if it's with the woman who dumped him all of a sudden, when he was ready to take a huge step into their relationship.

"See what?"

"She cares, Kook. She told me all these things of how happy she is for us and that I'm the one you're dating, but there was something in her eyes telling me the opposite."

And there it is. A hope spreading onto his face, filling those dark orbs that were filled with sadness and worry but not anymore.

"I think she's hiding something. The real reason why she broke up with me. Hoseok wouldn't tell me what it is, but I think there's something more to this."

"What do you think it is?"

"I don't know. But I'll find out. I just need to get closer to her. She's selfless, if she's doing this for me then she won't tell me straight away."

You arch your brow at the selfless part, causing Jungkook to glare at you.

"What's your plan?" you ask, ignoring his glare. You're not in the mood to scold him and put him back to his place.

"Honestly? To enjoy this night while it lasts." he sighs, feeling like another headache is approaching.

"Fair enough," you murmur, agreeing with him. You wave at Jihoon, who automatically smiles at you and takes Jungkook's order.

"Let's just have fun."

With classic music being changed to party hits, the main lightening turned off and couple of more drinks, there's a thin layer of sweat coating your skin as your ass stays pressed against Jungkook's crotch. His hands are all over your body, groping your hips as he controls your movements and makes sure you don't stumble.

Maybe dancing for God knows how long wasn't such a good idea, but you can't stop. The alcohol in your system gives you another set of energy, and the fact there's Jeon Jungkook pressed against you with his mouth so close to the crook of your neck, isn't helping. His breath fans your skin, and you wish he would kiss you there.

Your head keeps spinning, your body stopping as you turn around to look at Jungkook. He looks fucked out, but still sober than you. His hair is pressed to his forehead and you can see the glimpse of his own sweat coating his neck, a prominent vein poking underneath the skin there.

Oh, fuck.

"Timeout?" you call out through the loud music, feeling your heart beating in your ears. Fuck, you should've slowed down.

He nods, interweaving your fingers as he leads you out of the dance floor.

You blame it on Taehyung who ordered several shots, daring all of you to drink it the fastest. Two shots became another two, until you've lost the count. Luckily, Jungkook was smart enough to stop them and asked you to dance. Unfortunately, Taehyung turned green all of a sudden, his own game kicking him in the ass as Jimin led him to the nearest bathroom.

"Fuck," you fumble with your forehead as you sit down, knowing this is going to be hell of a hangover tomorrow. "Why did we listen to Taehyung again?" you whine, noticing Jungkook ordering a glass of water.

"That man is a charmer. You can't say no to him." Jungkook grins, fingers going through his hair as he tries to take care of the mess there.

"I'll tell him you said that." you grin, met with Jungkook's amused expression before he thanks the bartender and pushes the glass of water into your hands.

He urges you to drink, knowing you're much more lightweight than he is.

"You okay?" he asks, leaning closer to him as he watches you closely.

Gulping, you flick his forehead as you push him away.  He snorts at your reaction, seeing you frown.

"I'm okay." you tell him casually, trying not to gawk at your best friend who suddenly got fucking hot.

Well, he was always hot but now — who would have thought sweaty Jungkook could be so dangerous?

"You sure? You're all red." he points out, checking you out as you roll your eyes.

"I'm sure, dad."

He cringes at the nickname, faking a gag as you laugh. "Don't call me that." he murmurs, but you only wink at him.

"Hey lovers, mind if I take Jungkook from you?" Jimin asks, his breath seems to be heavy as if he's in a rush.

"What happened?" Jungkook asks, brows frowned at the sight of Jimin's alarmed look.

"Taehyungie overdid it with alcohol. He's throwing up in the bathroom but I need to get him outside. I called a cab, I'll take him home. I just can't do it alone. He's heavier than it looks." he explains, an obvious worry evident on his face as he sighs.

Taehyung is known to be lightweight since he doesn't drink alcohol that often, but when he does, he always goes wild even when he knows he can barely take it. He doesn't know his own limits when it comes to alcohol but hearing he's throwing up seems serious. He usually does that the next morning.

"Yeah, sure. Let's go," Jungkook says, already standing up as he glances at you. "Will you be fine alone for a moment?" he asks you, both of them waiting for your response before they can save Taehyung.

"Yeah, sure."

That's all they need before they turn around and disappear once again into the crowd full of wedding guests.

If Taehyung's uncontrolled drinking should've tell you something, you order another drink instead of water that Jungkook insisted on you drinking. You're alone again, in a room full of strangers and well, Jungkook's friends that you don't know that much. It's no fun sitting down and drinking water, so when poor Jihoon places another drink in front of you, you thank him and taste the sweet but bitter liquid.

Who knows when Jungkook will be back.

Again.

It takes you only a few minutes and two more drinks, to let yourself loose slightly as you listen to the music. Older guests already went home, well most of them, and the wedding ceremony seems to be more wild. There are a lot of people drunk, dancing and having fun in general while you've been sitting on the same bar stool for at least ten minutes; maybe the fifth time this night.

Jungkook is nowhere to be found, and you wonder if you should go and look for him. Ten minutes isn't that long, knowing Taehyung must be giving them a hard time, especially when he's drunk and sick.

However, your thoughts are easily cut off by someone else sitting close to you. Two seats are left empty between you two, and it feels like the universe is messing with you right now.

Hoseok orders himself a drink, completely oblivious to your staring —at least that's what you think— before he simply looks your way.

As if his eyes burned your skin, you looked away and stared at Jihoon, mixing him a drink. It lasts for a good minute before your curiosity lets out the best of you, and you look in his direction just to find him glancing at you again.

He raises his brow at you, almost provocatively, leaving you to scowl at the young man. You can't hear it, but you see him scoffing under his breath and it's just enough to let your blood boil. And maybe it's the alcohol that makes you finally snap.

"What the fuck is your problem?"

You don't scream but it's loud enough for him to hear. From the corner of your eyes you notice Jihoon eyeing you before he goes back to his work, ignoring the two of you.

Hoseok doesn't seem to be too surprised by your reaction, but he still opens his mouth at your question.

"You're the one screaming at me." he points out, completely calmly and the complete opposite of you. It annoys you even more.

"That's--I wasn't screaming!" you exclaim, raising your voice. Fuck. You mentally curse at yourself when you give him the exact reaction he wanted to prove his point. Cockily, he raises his brow at you.

"I don't know, love. You seem to be a little bit... tense." he says, mocking you.

"Okay, I don't know what your problem is but drop it. I haven't done anything bad to you, so stop treating me like I did."

He opens his mouth, all the mocking and amusement disappearing from his face. "That's not--"

"Oh, please! What's your problem, huh? Oh, let me guess, it's something with Jungkook."

His eyes widen, but you're too busy to see him staring somewhere behind you before he looks back at you.

"Y/N?" It's Jungkook whose voice you briefly hear, and you see him slowly making his way to the both of you with scrunched brows. "What are you doing?"

You completely miss the warning tone in his voice, placing a hand in front of him to shut him off.

Jungkook said he took care of Hoseok, but here he is. Being shady, again.

"I've got it, baby." you emphasize the little pet name, staring into Hoseok eyes who scrunches his nose in response.

"I don't think--"

Jungkook tries, but he fails miserably when you ignore him and cut him off with a raised voice.

"You don't believe us, right? You don't think any of this is real, huh?" you ask, eyes filled with determination and adrenaline as you stare at Jungkook's silent friend. You just hope he can't hear how fast your heart hammers against your chest, in fear that you'll fuck this up.

Hoseok takes his time, not exactly responding verbally but you can see it in his eyes. You hit the nail on the head.

"What do you want us to do? Fuck in front of you?" you snap, glaring at Hoseok who stutters over his words while Jungkook reacts as well.

"Y/N!" he gasps, surprised but very composed as he clutches your shoulders. "I think we all need to calm down. Hoseok, sorry, she's a little drunk."

You glare at him, offended that you're the bad guy in this when his friend started this all. Jungkook ignores you, giving a nervous smile to Hoseok who just glances back at you.

"You're right. I was skeptical, I--I'm sorry if I offended you," he says, staring at you before he looks at Jungkook. "I just find it hard to believe you moved on so quickly." he says simply, although it feels like he wants to say something else – maybe mentioning Kiko but when he glances at you, he changes his mind.

"We're still trying to figure it out, so please, don't breathe down our necks just because your best friend is single."

"Y/N!" Jungkook exclaims, but you just innocently shrug.

"It's not because she's single," Hoseok mutters through clenched teeth, "I'm--you know what? It doesn't matter. I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable. If Jungkook really loves you, I'll support your relationship."

This time it's soft and genuine, allowing you to see the same Hoseok you were introduced to.

Hoseok's words are stuck in your mind as you slowly nod at him, not daring to say a single word. Because that's it. Jungkook doesn't love you and neither do you love him. At least not that way. You're just glad you got him off your back and you can make your deal to the end with no troubles.

"Can you take me home? I'm tired." you turn to Jungkook, asking gently before he looks down at you and nods.

"Bye, hyung. I'm sorry if she said something--"

"No, no, no. I'm the one who's sorry. I shouldn't have acted that way."

Jungkook nods, waving at his friend for the last time before he takes your hand and leads you out of the building, making sure he says a proper goodbye to Seokjin and his new wife.

Hoseok's words still ring in your ears.

If Jungkook really loves you, I'll support your relationship.

It's just a matter of time before Hoseok, and maybe the rest of your friends, find the truth. And it scares you, no matter how many times Jungkook assures you everything's going to be fine.

[neocrias]

making out with wayv

warnings: slightly suggestive; some of the stories may be longer than others (we got a bit carried away lol sorry); reader insert; gn reader (mostly)

pairings: wayv and reader

gender/aus: fluff; established relationships (or not); casual fling;

other units: 127 II dream

Kun

Qian Kun was a gentleman. You knew this from the first time you saw him amongst his chaotic group of friends at the birthday party of one of your mutual friends. She insisted in introducing you to the guys, and it would be a lie if you said you didn't take immediate interest in the most patient of them; the one who just smiled and nodded when he was mocked by the loud boys around him.

You obviously shared in a subtle way - or not - with your friend that you were interested in the guy with "the dimples" she had introduced you to. And, after she pulled some strings, a date between you two was arranged. It would be an understatement to say that you were anxious for the big day: you were simply a nervous wreck! And then Kun came along and sorted everything out. His smile, kind words and good manners made it for you.

It was a mix of things: when he opened the car door for you, the fact that he brought you flowers, the fancy but not overpriced restaurant he took you to and the bill he made sure to pay. Was it all a dream? You couldn't believe he was real.

And of course, during the whole drive home, there was only one thing you could think about: you had to kiss Kun. You'd already dropped a few hints, but you didn't want to seem too desperate. So, when the car softly stopped by your house, you turned to the driver with a naive smile.

— Thank you so much Kun, it's been a wonderful evening. — You thanked him sincerely. Suddenly, Kun leaned towards you, and the first thing you could think of was "thank God!". You closed your eyes, longing for the moment when your lips touch, but it doesn't come. The warmth of Kun's approach suddenly fades and you open your eyes curiously, realizing that he was just trying to unbuckle your seatbelt in his typically gentlemanly way.

But Kun obviously realizes that you had other intentions when he returns to the driver's seat and sees you with your eyes closed in his direction. He flahses a smile that is less polite and polished than the others he had showed you that night, understanding exactly what you wanted. And it was obvious that he'd been wanting to kiss you too from the start of the date too, but he was afraid he'd end up looking too rushed, so he held back. Now, however, he didn't have to pretend anymore.

He leaned towards you once more, resting one hand on your seat and brushing away a lock of hair that had fallen across your face with the other. That same hand rested gently on your cheek as he sought out your lips with his own. "Finally," you thought. Kun's soft lips were exactly as you had imagined all night, and their slow but intense rhythm was far more incredible than you could have imagined. After a few moments deepening the kiss, Kun's hand, which had been lovingly enveloping your face, began to move downwards, first finding your neck, then your back until it reached the base of your spine, squeezing your waist lightly. You get excited, trying to bring your body closer to his, but Kun stops the kiss and lovingly rests a peck on your lips.

— I'm sorry, you look so beautiful today that I couldn't help myself. — He jokes, smiling. Kun wanted to continue the kiss, but had just remembered that this was only your first date anyways.

Ten

"You need to finish this paper today" was all you could think about for three whole days. Of course, this also made you neglect your boyfriend a bit, but it was only a few days, he wouldn't have minded, right? Wrong!

Ten was upset, annoyed, irritated and extremely - EXTREMELY - needy. He missed you so much at work and when he arrived at the apartment you shared, he still missed you because of this damn course you took at college.

In an impulse, Ten went up to you completely determined, he pulled your chair back, sliding it so that you were further away from the wooden table and consequently from the computer. Ten sat on your lap, one leg on either side of your hip and his shoulders around your neck.

— Do you always come here, gorgeous? — He said in a funny voice.

— Only on difficult days. — You replied, joining in his joke.

— Then this must be a very difficult week for you. — He continued. His fingers curled into your hair, giving it a gentle tug that made your body tense up and then relax.

— What can I do to help you, hm? — He was just teasing you, it was supposed to be a funny joke, but it ended up messing with your head anyway. Your body tingled, your hands wanted something to squeeze, you missed him too. In fact, you were missing your boyfriend more than he could have imagined.

Ten smiled when he saw your body react so beautifully to his touches, and he hadn't done anything much. But who was he to lie? He was feeling the same as you after repressing his desires for days.

He bent down until his thin lips slid over yours, the tips of your noses touching lightly, and you both let out a relieved sigh as you kissed for real. You instinctively brought your hands up to his waist, gripping the blue cotton shirt between your fingers so tightly that your knuckles turned white.

Ten in retaliation pulled the hair on the back of your neck harder, causing a surprised moan of pain to escape before you knew it. Before you could separate completely, Ten ran the tip of his tongue over your upper lip, making you sigh once more and squeeze your thighs together tightly.

You were both panting, with swollen lips and red cheeks. Neither of you wanted to open your eyes, let alone come back to reality and the obligations you had to fulfill, so, with your eyes still closed and your foreheads pressed together, Ten asked:

— Can't you finish this tomorrow?

You couldn't, but who cares about deadlines when Ten is all over you, begging for a single chance to take you to the heights? You certainly wouldn't!

Winwin

You knew there was something special about Sicheng. Ever since you found out that he was going to be your romantic partner in the new c-drama you were going to star in, you started researching about him more. Those sparkling eyes and shy smile he displayed during his group activities as a k-pop idol didn't fool you: you knew there was something more in there, and you were willing to find out what. As soon as Dong Sicheng arrived on set, with his royal-like features and his few quiet words - apart from polite greetings and the intense performance as the male lead, you were already sure you wanted to find out more about him.

That's why, when he invited you to visit him at his penthouse with the premise of "practicing lines" from the script, you accepted without a second thought. Of course now, sitting on his expensive couch with a glass of luxury wine on the coffee table in front of you and a slightly drunk and smiling Sicheng by your side, you felt a little less like a character investigator and a little more like a potential prey of the irresistible actor. And you know what's worse? You liked it. Oops.

— I can't stand it any longer, I have to say it! I love you… with all my heart. — Sicheng read his lines, full of emphasis and a little irony due to the wine. He stared at you, and you could almost feel the deep feelings of his character. It was then that you remembered the cue that this line implied: a kiss between the two characters.

Sicheng slowly moved closer and you closed your eyes. When his lips brushed lightly, you practically forgot about your performance and completed the kiss, pulling his face closer to yours. You enjoyed it for a while, until your coworker pulled away, letting out a chuckle.

— I think you're a bit too excited for a technical kiss, aren't you? — He jokes and you gasp. What? But he's the one who set this whole thing up! It's not possible that now that you've matched him, he'd act all innocent!

— Hey! I was just getting into character! It's not as if I actually wanted you, alright?

— Y/n…Everyone wants me. — Sicheng almost rolls his eyes, raising one of his eyebrows at you without losing his mocking smile.

— But not me!

— Oh is that so? I think you do.

And he was painfully right. As presumptuous as he was, he was very attractive.

While you were thinking about Don Sicheng's audacity, you barely felt him approach you once again and, when he was already considerably closer, he looked you straight in the eye, as if asking for your permission. You just nodded, but didn't give him time to come to you, because you immediately closed the space between you, holding the back of his neck tightly and touching his lips for the second time that night. The strong, sweet taste of the wine invaded you along with Sicheng's soft lips and you grunted lightly when he squeezed both sides of your waist, pressing you down and laying you gently on the sofa.

Yeah, it seems like filming this TV show with Sicheng is going to be easier than you thought.

Xiaojun

Oh, summer. Summer was always so exciting! There was always something to do during the season, from going out for a popsicle to taking a trip with your friends. The latter was your favorite activity, and every time you went on vacation, you would tried to book a week at a nearby resort or at a rented beach house.

This summer was no different. You and your friends got reservations for one of the most interesting resorts you've been to so far. There was every sort of activity in the place and yet the one thing that filled your thoughts for days and nights in that paradise had a first and last name: Xiao Dejun.

Xiaojun - how he liked to be called - was also there for his summer vacation with some friends. He was honestly one of the most attractive men you've ever seen in your short lifetime, and you just couldn’t take your eyes off him ever since you saw him playing billiards in the resort's arcade. Luckily enough, he paid attention to you too, and insisted on talking to you even though you were a blushing mess next to him all the time you bumped into each other in that damn hotel. Even better, he actually took enough interest in you to ask for your number, and to casually text you every so often, asking you to meet him in different spaces inside of the resort. You accepted it every. single. time. And your friends eventually got tired of your shy giggles every time your cellphone beeped with a text message notification. 

And then once again there you were, in the middle of the night, trying to find Xiaojun just from his shared location on your phone. When you finally arrive at the small red dot marked on the map, you find yourself in the resort pool, lit up only by the small lights inside of the water and the moonlight above you. Also in there, you get to see Xiaojun swimming underwater and take a deep breath, becoming slightly nervous by his sight.

When he emerges, you suddenly hold your breath as you face Xiaojun's wet torso. Drops of water fall quickly from his hair down his body as he leans on the edge of the pool to sit down. He finally sees you and flashes the most beautiful smile you've ever seen, making you melt.

— I'm so glad you found me. — He jokes, letting out a chuckle. You try to look into his eyes as he speaks, you really try to, but it's almost impossible when he's right there, soaking wet, half-naked and looking like a real Chinese god.

— Get in here. — He says nodding at the pool and you gasp, swallowing.

You look at the shimmering water of the pool with suspicion. You hadn't even brought a towel or bathing suit! Still doubtful, you approach and test the temperature of the water with the tip of your foot, immediately shaking off the chill. Then your eyes trail to Xiaojun, who looks at you expectantly. You calmly analyze his features, letting yourself be carried away by the beauty of your summer crush, and decide to do as he asks. Damn it.

The dive is strong as you feel the water hit your body, immediately enveloping you with its icy intensity. Seeking the surface in a hurry, you emerge only to see the rest of the pool empty. "Where's X-"

A hand wraps around one of your thighs and you suppress a startled shout as you look down to see Xiaojun underwater with a playful smile. The boy swims to the surface and emerges a few centimeters from you, making your eyes widen.

— You're very cute, you know that? Like a scaredy cat... — He practically whispers, his completely dark eyes dropping to look at your lips, which are trembling slightly from the cold. Xiaojun slid his hands under your waist, tightening them firmly around your soaked t-shirt. You had already noticed from your encounters that he liked to take the lead, so you just let him do the honors.

He suddenly pulled you closer, splashing a few drops of water around you. You feel Xiaojun's cold body brushing against yours, yet you can't help but feel a growing warmth at the top of your stomach, causing a sly smile to appear on your lips. Xiaojun then finally leans in to kiss you, attacking your lips with strenght but also with precision. The kiss fits almost immediately and you soon feel Xiaojun's tongue asking for space between your lips, which you promptly obey.

Something about the moonlight, or the way the water surrounds you both in your frenetic rhythm, or perhaps Xiaojun's firm lips on yours together with the Chinese man's irresistible grip make you feel like you're in paradise, and your sudden confidence makes you wrap your arms around the boy's neck, leaning on him as you circle his waist with both of your legs, pulling him closer to you.

Xiaojun enjoys your boldness, and bites your lower lip sllightly, causing you to absolutely lose it all. He subtly separates from you so that you can catch your breath, but keeps your foreheads pressed together as he smiles mischievously.

Hendery

You and Hendery weren't exactly friends, but you had a lot of friends in common, which brought the two of you closer together. One day, Hendery invited some friends over to play RE4, a game he had wanted to play since he was a child, but had never been able to do alone because he was scared. The friends in question were Xiaojun and Yangyang - your cousin and your best friend respectively - and, of course, you. 

The guys were smarter than they looked and they knew that Hendery was into you, deeply into you, so the two of them decided to skip out and leave the two of you alone that afternoon. 

You arrived early and were warmly welcomed by a lively and playful Hendery. Before the boys could even show up, you started playing, each taking a different stage and having fun while the other was scared.

After a completely unexpected jumpscare that made Hendery jump and hit his shin on the coffee table, you realized that more than an hour had passed and neither Xiaojun nor Yangyang had arrived yet. You sent a message asking for them and received a simple "something happened" and "my bad" in reply.

— I'll get us something to eat and we can watch a movie, maybe? - Hendery suggested and you were happy to accept. He came back with some snacks and two cans of coke, sat down next to you and put on Netflix. — Comedy?

— Scary movie? — you asked back.

— The second one? 

You nodded when he got exactly what you were thinking. The two of you understood each other so well... almost as if it was meant to be. In less than 20 minutes you were no longer paying attention to the movie as Hendery told a very embarrassing story about Yangyang and Xiaojun.

You laughed all afternoon and with every word he said, funny expressions he made or even the way he gestured, you laughed out loud and threw your head back, feeling your belly hurt from laughing so much. And, for a moment, that was all that happened until the scenery changed and, somehow, you were now sitting on his lap with crumpled clothes and swollen red lips.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, your fingers ruffling the soft brown strands as he left kisses and nips along the length of your neck and shoulders. Hendery's arms circled your waist, pulling you closer and pressing you down, preventing you from moving too much.

— I've had a crush on you for months, you know that? — Hendery murmured against your ear and gently moved his hand down from your waist to your thigh, making the phantom touch prickle your skin.

— Yeah? I should have done something about that before. — You replied by leaving a bite on his collarbone, which was easily reddened by the pale skin.

— Oh, don't worry about that," he warned. — I'll make up for every second lost.

Yangyang

You were already a bit tired of being friends with Liu Yangyang. I mean, we all have a limit - and he was already testing yours. Double entendre, dirty jokes, and unfriendly touches used to fill your encounters, but no one seemed brave enough to simply take the first step: a kiss, that's all you wanted. It had already reached an annoying level of neediness, where you dreamed of the taste of your "friend's" lips.

Today he invited you to his house, as usual. You already had the script in mind: he's going to let you play with his cats while he shows you the new collection of clothes he bought online and have just arrived, bragging about his acquisitions. Then he'd order you something to eat and put some silly video on the TV in the bedroom that you'd both watch, usually lying on the bed in some unusual position for "friends". If it was a day when he was less committed to the whole silent-flirting thing, maybe he'd just play on his computer while you watched TV until the food arrived. You eat, you talk, you fight over who gets to do the dishes and he says goodbye to you with a kiss dangerously close to your mouth, sending you the most playful smile in the world while you mentally curse him for not going all the way in.

But today, everything seemed different. Yangyang had already been acting strange with you for a few days: more incisive, more flirty than ever and sending you messages like "I miss you" or "I wish you here sm" at half past two in the morning, making you question your sanity. So when you leave your shoes by the door and are greeted by the little ball of fur meowing, your heart is a little fluttery and you're a little anxious. Will today finally be the day?

He greets you with a different smile - less playful and more… tender? You can't tell, but since then Yangyang has been treating you with more care all afternoon, almost as if you two weren't so close. The dirty jokes are replaced by sincere compliments and the teasing touches become more affectionate. Sitting on Yangyang's bed, after a long conversation, he pulls one of your locks of hair away from your face and you feel your cheeks heat up. This is it.

Yangyang comes closer and smiles, looking at your lips full of tenderness. You close your eyes and move closer together. By the time you excitedly manage to feel the warmth of Yangyang's face next to yours, it's too late to be delicate, and you feel a slightly harsher collision than you expected, pulling away immediately afterwards. Oh no. It's your first kiss with Yangyang and he's knocked his tooth into yours.

Your expression immediately turns worried as you see Yangyang embarrassed - you can't help but find his pout extremely cute.

— It's okay! It was nothing. — You clarify out loud.

— My bad… — He starts apologizing at the same time, until he notices your reassuring tone and raises one of his eyebrows. Unable to stop yourself, you let out a laugh that you've been trying to hold back for a few seconds and he widens his eyes. — Oh, so you think this is funny? I wouldn't laugh at myself if I were you.

— Why not? — You laugh again, watching Yangyang's countenance gradually change.

— Because I could punish you… — he whispers, transforming himself. Suddenly, the insecure boy who tried to kiss his best friend for the first time a few moments ago becomes more agile, confident and self-assured. Yangyang pulls on your waist with just one hand, gluing your bodies together and surprising you with his strength. He winks at you once, revealing his playful side for one last time before bringing your lips together voraciously, taking his free hand to your jaw and caressing the area around your cheek as you move to make the kiss fit in more.

After a while, you practically push Yangyang away so you can catch your breath.

— Okay, I think you really know what you're doing. — You smile between hurried breaths, making Yangyang let out a laugh, showing you his very white, strong teeth - which you know now thanks to your new experience.

[starryficsfinishwen]

✧。◟[NSFW] ᴛʜᴇ ʀɪᴅᴇ ʜᴏᴍᴇ — lee x reader [PGR]

so I'm coming home to you

synopsis ; there are answers far beyond words in between turbulences. you are looking for those in lee's battles, in the way he sat beside you, yet what can you say, when the ride home is silent?

alternatively: starry was unsatisfied because we never knew what happened after the epilogue and got a time skip instead, so she is writing it down on her terms LOL

a.n. - this idea came to me while I was cooking breakfast. I nearly dropped the bowl. I nearly dropped my eggs 😭 also I wanna suggest listening to fallingforyou by The 1975 for this too if yall wanna. I wanted this to be an angst to fluff but I decided to make it in a separate post LOL ALSO I ACCIDENTALLY POSTED THIS EARLIER AHAHAHA I'm sorri oh well

pairing - lee hyperreal x f!commandant

words - 7,691

warnings - WILL CONTAIN SPOILERS FOR CHAPTER 21: SPIRAL OF CHRONOS. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, NSFW THEMES: soft sex hehe, body worship, cunnilingus, creampie-, vaginal penetration, squirting, virginity loss but it's the both of them LOL, lee being so soft and gentle. semi-established relationship, mutual pining.

edit - dividers by @/saradika-graphics!

The ride home is silent.

A gentle lull of a torrential downpour, multiple raindrops pattering on the aircraft's window. Apart from the tired snores and occasional groaning of both constructs and commandants, you are certain: everyone on the aircraft was alive. Miraculously, even if the chances of being so were as small as a pea.

A sharp pain in your mind knocks on your head. Ah, right. Although the realization finally hits you, the piercing pain in your head has yet to dull, after all of the events that unfolded. You wondered, how lucky you were to be alive, despite connecting with so many constructs, all the while maintaining a deep M.I.N.D. connection with Lee. Perhaps, the gods listened to your selfish plea.

After all, Lee came back alive. And he is sitting, silently beside you.

Arms crossed as he leaned on the chair you both sat in, his frame never leaving a hint of space between you. His mesmerizing cerulean eyes were hidden, eyes closed as he breathed so softly.

It's the first time you've seen Lee's frame up close. The first time as a hologram, the second after he emerged from the tower. And now, one glance away.

His hair was a lighter shade of blonde, long bangs covering up until his eyes. Face more defined, looking more mature, yet still so youthful. There weren't any scars on Lee's face anymore, unlike his Entropy frame. Despite his cold and neutral face, as he slept, you can't help but notice that he looked more gentle, softer. Your hand reached out carefully trying not to disturb his sleep, fingers lightly tracing from the top of his head, to the side of his face, to his lips— a thought passed your mind, but you shook your head instead.

As you pulled away, Lee's hand grabbed yours.

“You are shaking,” a whisper that tickled your ear brought you back to reality, “are you alright, my Commandant?”

My Commandant. He only called you that in a fierce, stoic tone. But now, his voice is so tranquil, you might have mistaken it as a phantom. A ripple rumbles through your chest. Lee's voice, although you've heard it so many times, never failed to make you shake, never failed to make you sigh of relief. Unlike his Entropy and Palefire frames, what changed? His new frame is gentler, softer, too. Grasping the warm blanket wrapped around you, you felt Lee lean closer to you. You looked back at him, finding a worried expression across his face.

A face you've seen for the first time, should have made you afraid. Yet, the new face is looking at you, the same way he used to. A sense of familiarity, a sense of comfort.

“I'm okay,” you admitted, “Please don't worry.”

The windows were tinted dark, a few shimmering stars outside. In the dim light of the evening haze, cerulean eyes looked down on you, calculating and quiet. “Is there something wrong? You seem distressed.”

Apart from all the events that conspired earlier, it's probably safe to say that you were far from okay. But you still held onto your words, “Nothing. I just...wanted to see you up close.”

Sturdy, mechanical arms wrapped themselves around your frail, tired body. The gesture made you sink into Lee's chest, a new wave of comfort entangling itself on both of your bodies. Yes, this was— and still is— the man you liked for a long time. And this was the same space you've always loved to drown in, away from the cold, war-struck world.

“Wasn't it you who told me not to shoulder everything,” Lee chuckled, “You can tell me the truth, my Commandant. I am here to bear it all with you.”

His words made you snort. “Oh, now you take my words?”

“I remember everything you say, orders and everything.”

The turbulence seemed to hit a little harder, as Lee held you tighter in his embrace. You found yourself nestled in his lap eventually, cradled like a child in your teammate's arms. You still looked at Lee, searching for something. Two awake individuals now converse in hushed tones.

“You're making me quite nervous, Commandant.” Lee spoke as you continued to stare at him.

“I still can't believe that you are here.” You childishly poked his puffed cheeks, “Are you sure you're real?”

Ah, there he is. His usual stoic expression as he looked at you nonchalantly. But they were quickly replaced with a warm smile, eyes softening at your antics. “My Commandant, I believe that we are still connected right now. Do you wish to check it?”

As far as you were concerned, what Lee said is true; the connection with him is still a brightly burning flame, signaling its closeness with you right now. Yet, as you continue to gaze at your teammate, who was looking elsewhere, another realization dawned on you. Reaching out to touch his neck, his shoulders, his metallic chest— all hardened, like a cyborg. But you can still feel it, in your fingertips, his heartbeat reflecting yours, a cadenza of fluttering butterflies.

“Commandant,” Lee took your shivering hand, looking at you as he brought the back of it to his lips, “I'm here, okay? I'm back. I'm holding you like this.”

He is. As you gazed at his face, the whims of today that brought cold demons do not sway so easily, your heart crumbling once more— the fear that gnawed you left and right back when you were at the foot of the impenetrable tower, helpless in front of bloodlusted monsters. The thought of earlier when blood spilled your hands came back to haunt you: an unprecedented future where Lee did not emerge from the tower, a grim call for humanity...what did it look like?

“Hearing you say that,” your voice cracked, a fresh wave of tears now threatening to spill from your tired eyes, “brings me so much comfort, Lee.”

How ironic. A few hours ago, you bravely put on your facade, welcoming Lee back when he emerged from the then-heteronomer tower. Your smile was bigger than all the countless turbulences you've faced, a plethora of hope that baptised the witnesses there. But with the silent ride home to Babylonia, Liv and the other healers now resting, all the other conscious and unconscious commandants and constructs, you couldn't help but break down now, an endless stream of worry, fear, and relief as a storm in your body. Silent sobs wreck through your body, but Lee— your Lee, yours— held you so tight.

“I'm sorry,” even in the gentlest tone, his apology only made you sob more, “I know I should have thought about it thoroughly, I should have planned it with you. But it was the only solution.”

He kissed your temple, his cold fingers interlacing with your shaky ones, “...to keep you alive.”

You should be happy; Lee is right. He's alive, everyone else is alive. The tower was now a purification one. Yet why, out of all the things you should be crying about, an unfathomable thought that crossed your mind— something about death, something about a dogtag drenched in the bluest vital fluid— made you cry more?

“Commandant [Y/N],” Lee calls your name, that it catches your attention, a skip in your heart, “You're so brave. I'm sorry that you went through so much. But right now, everything will be alright.”

As your sobs slow down, Lee leans closer to your face, a finger wiping away the stream of tears, his lips kissing them away. Wait. Have you ever been so intimate with Lee this way? It suddenly baffled you; sure, you were both aware of each other's affections, sneaking away to be with one another. The furthest thing you've both even gone to, was a simple kiss on the cheek in your bedroom, before Lee went away, claiming his cooling systems malfunctioned. The gravity of the situation made you snap out of your sadness.

“W-wait, Lee,” you weakly shimmied out of his embrace, “I-I thought you didn't want this-”

You vividly remember Lee hates public display of affection.

But right now, his expression was puzzled, as if confused with your reaction. “And?”

A timid blush creeps in your cheeks. Somehow, you were the one getting embarrassed.

“I thought you didn't want people to see this kind of,” you coughed, “...display.”

He raised his eyebrows. “I am just taking care of my Commandant. There's no other explanation.”

Ah, what a fickle mind you have. Embarrassed, you sunk deep into his arms, pouting as you hid your face in his chest. “Ah...sorry.”

Lee coughs, “But there is something I do want to talk to you about.”

Peering up at him, you cocked your head to the side, “The mission? Or...what happened earlier?”

He looked at you with a small smile, before a faint pink tint in his cheeks appeared. He tucked the blanket to your chest, before returning his fingers to the gaps in yours. “We will arrive in Babylonia soon. It may be a hellhole right now, but...your rest will be the priority.”

“Hey, what-”

“-Get some sleep for now, Commandant...”

Gentle cerulean eyes looked at you with an unfamiliar emotion. Was it really unfamiliar, or were you slowly succumbing to the lull of a well-needed sleep.

It felt like a dream. His touch, his voice, his gestures. Your mouth opens, trying to call out Lee's name. But the way his thumb caressed your intertwined hands, the safety of a cradle as he held you close, the faint smell of his scent—

You fall asleep by the time the aircraft docks at Babylonia's hangar.

You remember the day you realized you liked Lee.

It was a little crush that bothered you like a bunny, hopping around the corners when it saw food nearby. You tried to ignore it, favoring the quiet, tranquil field, your battlefield for the fight against the virus. Yet, the longer you lingered in the field, the more of that man in blue with a cold facade and steeled eyes seem to capture your attention, far longer than any lesson you took in the F.O.S.

“Do you have any wish?” You remember Lee's sudden, peculiar question one day, at the Gray Raven lounge.

You were both chilling there, across one another; you were by the table, doing your paperwork, and him on the sofa, polishing his weapon. The question was so out of the blue. A few weeks after your initial meeting, and he was still in his Palefire frame. In honesty, what was your greatest wish? You were merely a fresh graduate, finally with a team assigned to you. You've been through the simulations, memorized every nook and crook of the books, and can even recite the constitution and the laws. All of this for the sake of humanity.

“Retaking Earth, having a future of peace.” was a simple way to put it.

But Lee only had a cold expression on his face, despondent eyes looking at you with judgement. You recognized this look, one that he'd been wearing every time you were around. You admitted him, earlier, his frigidity nearly makes you wet your pants. But when the last word escaped your lips, the expression changed for a split second— relief?— before it returned to its hardened state.

“I'm not asking you to do a pep talk.”

You pondered once more. Sure, humanity is needed. But guess not for Lee. What did you want, really? Ah, you remember the parcel you ordered, and the many more that were to come. Your wallet had been growing slimmer, too. Smiling, a stupid, yet practical idea sauntered to your young mind.

“Retiring as early as possible to get my pension?”

A life of pure ecstasy and glory. It wasn't so bad. But that look on Lee's face seemed to insinuate that he'd probably kill you and stage it as something else.

“Can you just give me one that is actually achievable?”

Is retiring early too much? When you looked up to Lee for another witty remark, you found yourself frozen. What once were steeled eyes were a noticeable shade of indigo, complimenting the blue patterns on his outfit. A clenched jaw, soft skin, a remarkable face that seemed to know so many things at once. You've always known you had a little bit of admiration for your team, with the tasks assigned to you little by little. But did you ever have your heart skip a beat whenever Lucia or Liv was around? You remember fierce and timid eyes looking at you, but never this cold. No, only Lee.

Only Lee could do that.

What little crush became a massive infatuation.

“Then,” sheepishly smiling, you felt your cheeks tint in the lightest shade, yet you still looked at Lee, “your smile?”

The question caught him off guard. Taking advantage of the situation, you decided to tease him further, “I want to see you smile more, Lee.”

You've always wanted to see him smile. One that was genuine, not commanded, nor forced. For the first time since your first meeting, there was a crack in his expression, a thin shade of pink dusting his own cheeks; a seemingly thin facade that only motivated you to open the lock that was presented to you.

“W-what-”

“You will scare everyone off with that intimidating look on your face,” you smiled, “So, please?”

Before the next moment could happen, the memory goes dark, and you open your eyes.

Your senses are out of place, lost as you tried to regain everything. First, your sense of smell returns as the scent of vanilla fills the room. Next is your hearing, the white noise of the air conditioner overwhelms the empty space. The feel of your bones and muscles, albeit sore and tired, felt weightless as you tried to lift your arms and legs up. The soft grasp of cotton and the mattress. When your vision returns, the white ceiling is adorned with the many trinkets you could remember sticking onto the top, the feeling of home asking to be welcomed. The comforts of the bed seemed to beg you to stay more, but you forced your body to sit up, the familiar scene of your room at the Gray Raven base now into view.

Did you...fall asleep? What time is it? You didn't want another lifetime of scolding waiting for you outside of your door. Lucia and Liv could be in the training room. And Lee...

An ominous feeling rattled your body. When you look down at your hands, a silent scream on your lips as you jump from the bed— your hands are tainted with a mixture of blue vital fluids and the brightest red.

Nearly falling onto the floor, lucky enough that you landed on your mattress. You suddenly remember everything—

“Lee!”

You forget your dignity. You forget your bare feet, you forget everything else. You had to find Lee. You had to. Running out of the door, you bolted to find the blonde man, the fear that you were too late to save him.

But before you could reach the last door that held all the answers you were looking for, a tall, study cushion prevented you from doing so.

“...dant! Commandant!”

A familiar voice. Snapping out of your fear-stricken trance, you felt yourself being pushed off slightly. A pair of worried cerulean eyes looking down at you.

“Commandant, I'm here!” A baritone voice, ones that made your eyes blur from the tears, “I'm here. I'm back.”

A comforting hold over you. A towering figure. The presence that could only make you crumble. Your teammate. The one that filled your quiet days.

“You're,” you choked, the dam of tears that spilled senselessly, “Lee, you're alive.”

He sighed in relief. Looking at you with a small smile, he said, “...You must be confused. Let's eat before we talk.”

Sunnyside up egg and bacon, the other kind of egg being scrambled. Two plates, two pieces of toast. A coffee and a glass of milk. And you finished it all, your share with the sunnyside up. The other was close to finishing, with Lee still tinkering on the small robot that was on his side.

A part of you thinks rationally, as you shouldn't eat like a pig when in front of someone else. But you can't help but strive to satiate the hunger that was distracting you from doing anything else. Apart from that, the raging headache was now gone.

You noticed something different, though.

“Did you enjoy it, Commandant?”

You glanced at Lee, before looking back at your clean plate. You wanted to retort, but, you awkwardly laughed instead. “Thank you, I really enjoyed it, Lee.”

“You looked like you tasted something else though,” you raised your brow, before he added, “Your expression changed.”

“Ah,” you absentmindedly toyed with your fork, “...it tasted different. Did Liv cook this?”

A faint blush adorned his cheek. “I was the one who cooked the food. Liv did not participate at all.”

You blinked in surprise. Lee? Cooking?

“Really?” Bewildered, you reeled back, “It tasted so good. I want a second serving...”

You had nothing against Lee's skills. He followed all of the nitty gritty details of the cookbook he used, making the dish taste too bland or too dry. But the one you tasted seemed different.

“I can cook more for you then, Commandant,” Lee prepared to stand up, but you grabbed his arm.

“Later, later!” You beamed at him, “I'm quite surprised as it tasted...”

What were the right words? As his hand loosened on your grip, you blurted out, “Warm.”

“Did it now?” A teasing tone. You huffed out, which made him grin.

“I'm glad you think so. After all, you were asleep for two days.”

The events of before came rushing back, nearly overwhelming you. But Lee's hand in yours strengthened your resolve. There were still a few questions on your mind, like—

“I checked you up on the Star of Life.” Lee continued, “I couldn't leave you there, as they were still packed with all the other victims. They granted you to rest here, where we watched over you.”

“What about the other people with us at the surface?”

“They were treated as well, Commandant. Right now, they gave us a two-week rest, with everything trying to settle down and rebuilding whatever we can.”

You touched his hand, “What about...you?”

And he touched yours back. “I did, as soon as we had you here.”

“I see, thank you,” you looked down on the oversized shirt, before glancing at Lee's now reddening face.

“I- um, we helped you clean and dress up. Mostly Liv and Lucia.”

“Where are they now...?”

“They might be helping with the rebuilding. It's my turn to watch over you.”

You hummed, retreating your hand, a small sense of disappointment. A comforting, yet anxious silence enveloped the environment; you fiddled with your hands, trying to find the right words to say. But the longer you dwell, the more your anxiety grew.

“...I didn't think that my shirt would look good on you.”

Your feelings dissipated. You looked up, Lee looking away to hide his blush, “I wanted to give it to Murray, but I'm glad that I still had some left.”

“Th...thank you, Lee. It feels very comfortable.” It was normal, right? Wearing boyfriend shirts has been a trend lately. So why are you blushing like a tomato? Well, at least the two of you look like tomatoes.

“...I still have a few more,” Lee said, gathering the courage to look at you, “If you're not closed to the idea of having shirts like the one you are wearing now, then, let me know.”

The cloth did feel quite comfy, never mind how it rested above your knees. It also smelled like Lee— apple blossoms and summertime. You were hoping you could keep the shirt hidden, but you were glad you had his confirmation.

Another silence. At this point, you'd rather be swallowed by the ground whole than be stuck with the awkward air. As you thought about it, deeper in thought, you felt Lee's fingers reach for yours, index finger wrapped around your pinky. Looking up, Lee already had his eyes on you, cerulean eyes looking with the same unfamiliar emotion.

“Commandant,” Quietly, as if the glass in front of you would break, “...Are you scared?”

“No,” you shook your head, sighing, “I was only worried. I thought...”

“So, you are.” Tenderly, he brought your hand closer to his face, “I feel that I can't apologize enough.”

“No, no, Lee,” What were you doing? Your vision nearly blurs, guilt clawing at the back of your throat, that your voice feels so small, “It's okay, it really is...”

“You told me yourself that you'd allow me to share all my burdens,” Gently, he kisses your fingers one by one, his eyes closed, “That we're doing this together until the end. You and I— you are no exception.”

Lee doesn't leave any finger unkissed, warm lips on your fingertips, before he trailed his kisses to the side of your hand, to the pulse on your wrist. Ah, he knows. He knew about the flash of blood on your hands, the haunting memory between the both of you. The first drop of your tears escaped. Then another. Until it became an endless stream, running down your face.

“I'm sorry, Commandant, for scaring you.” He opened his eyes, revealing glossy ones, mirroring your sad expression, “But I assure you; I am here, I'm sitting with you, I'm next to you now.”

Two of his hands are now on your wrist, hovering over his jaw, words brewing at the tip of his tongue. Does he know about your hammering heartbeat? How this very gesture, so intimate, so real— there are words far beyond comprehension, beyond verbal communication, that wishes to be said. But all it took was the way he looked at you, your hands on his. He pulls you closer, eased comfortably in his awaiting lap.

“In the tower,” he admitted, “The frame knows something, and I can't tell Asimov unless I tell you first.”

“What do you mean?”

His fingers are now on your cheek, wiping away all of your tears, looking at you with such sincerity, it nearly breaks your heart, “I saw the future.”

It made you freeze. The future? It didn't seem true. But you trusted Lee, and you would safeguard everything he said to protect him.

“Like...you saw it happen?”

He nods, “I do. I can even go back into the past. I used to remember it all so clearly, but...”

A twinge of dread sinks in your stomach, whispering, “you can't anymore?”

“...In the end, I can still remember the worst that happened.”

Lee's free hand cups your cheek, and you only noticed it now, the vibrant color of his cerulean eyes, reflected so bright. “I lost you in all of them.”

It hits you faster— you weren't the only one who suffered. Lee, your Lee, battled his own demons inside of the tower. It made your stomach sink, your heartbeat wild in your chest. Your Lee, who had always been so calculating and ahead of everything, had the fear that you also had.

The vivid thought of your hand wrapped around a bloodied dogtag washes over you. But you tried to push it away from your mind, opting to cup Lee's cheeks.

“Lee,” words die on your throat, “I'm...”

“That's why I need to tell you this, Commandant,” he inhaled deeply, that a shiver ran down your spine—

Was he going to ask to step down? To leave Gray Raven, to leave...you?

His face was dangerously close to yours now, your breathing tangled with yours, your warmth clinging to his skin, “I never want to be away from you again, Commandant.”

You held your breath. In the heat of the afternoon haze, Lee's arms are on your waist, the other on your cheek; you, on his lap, holding his face. All of the thousand words, unsaid during the ride home, poured in like a fountain. His thumb wipes away the last tear from your eyes, mouth curling into a smile.

“I may not hold what lies in the future, or how long until our end will arrive, but right now, I will not hesitate to spend all of our precious time together. I want to protect you. I will do everything I can to keep on saving you, even if I have to give my life.”

He drives the final nail onto his words, “I like you. I like you far too much, that if I don't see you anymore, then I will never know what to do.”

A confession. Lee was never this honest or upfront. It rattled you to the core, that a simple event made him change like this. Honest, upfront, intimate. But you only shook your head, the hold over him tightened.

“No,” you breathed out, “I can't lose you like that, Lee. I never want to lose you.”

“Save me all you want, but you know that I'll do the same,” you muttered, leaning to press your lips onto his cheeks, “But I won't only die for you. I will live for you.”

“I-”

“I like you, too, Lee. I like you that I would rather watch the world burn than to see you gone from me.”

In this very small space, you could hear his heartbeat echo alongside yours. His grip on your waist tightens, and you are leaving kisses on his face. There is a feeling that bubbles inside of you. You wanted to call him that word— something you've been craving to say that it aches too much in your mouth, asking to be confessed. But you already know that neither of you are ready to say it, nor accept it.

“Commandant-”

“Say my name, Lee,” your voice breaks, as your hands itch to wrap them around Lee, too touch-starved to care if this kind of intimacy breaks both of your boundaries, “I want to hear you say it.”

“[Y/N],” Lee's voice said your name so softly, that your heart flutters, “[Y/N],”

You've only heard Lee call your name with your title. But now, in the heat of this moment, as he calls your name, you never wanted anything more than to kiss him. Already leaning to close the missing gap, but you hesitate. You were really going to break all of the other boundaries you've both set for one another. So you lean away, slightly disappointed.

“[Y/N]?”

“I'm sorry, Lee.” A small pout on your lips, “I really...want to kiss you.”

“...I do, too.” You notice the pink in his cheeks grew darker, “...I want to kiss you. I want to do many things with you, [Y/N].”

Ah, a clear sign. One that makes your heart erupt with joy, one that made the grin on your face uncontrollable.

“Then, kiss me, Lee,” you said, cupping his cheeks, “I want you to kiss me.”

And he does. Your arms are wrapped on his shoulders, his lips on your waist. Closing the aching gap, that your bodies are pressed onto each other, it reminds you of the collision of stars— merging into one. Kissing Lee for the first time is soft, gentle, with a hint of neediness and satisfaction. One where the longer you've kissed, breaking away only to find a string of saliva on your lips, an unbearable need to kiss each other once more, that it deepens.

It distracts you, however— his hands tease along your bare thighs, fingers lightly tapping on your skin. You only move closer, his hands finding themselves wrapped on the back of your thighs.

“Lee,” you whispered, pulling away to find a string of saliva as you catch your breath, “can you touch me more, please? I want to know if this is real.”

“This is real,” he affirms, guiding your legs to wrap themselves on his hips, “...And I am touching you right now.”

He wastes no time kissing you again, one hand on your cheek, the other caressing your hips. Your hands, however putty, start to pull on his own clothes, finding where his buttons could be. Lee must have noticed it, when you breathe for air, he chuckles.

“Hyperreal isn't like my Entropy or Palefire, [Y/N]. Seems like I'll be the one taking them off, as you don't know where.”

“Such a tease,” you pout, “You should have asked Asimov to put some buttons or zipper somewhere to easily take off your clothes.”

“Well,” Lee coughs, “I honestly did not think that I would be making out with my Commandant in the future.”

It made you laugh loudly, fingers grazing his chin, “Cute. Well, I guess your prophecy skills are a bit too rusty, hm?”

“Mm,” Lee leans to brush his nose on the side of your face, “I did not forsee that an attractive girl like you would be on my lap right now, being so receptive and kind to me.”

The statement made you blush. “Cut it, and I thought you were the one who gets flustered easily.”

“Th-” Lee pulls away, revealing his adorable pout, paired with the raging blush on his cheeks, made you want to remember this sight forever, “That's because there is something wrong with my cooling system.”

“Even now on your new frame?”

He sighs. “I'm starting to think that it's not because of the cooling system...”

“Oh, you admit it now?”

“...Yeah,” he takes a strand of your hair in between his fingers, twiddling, “I think it's because of you, [Y/N].”

“Why is it my fault now?”

“You...” Lee pauses, before looking at you, “...you make me think of things to the point of overthinking. You keep overriding my logic, always skewing my predicted data.”

“I'm sorry?” Awkwardly applogizing, but Lee only laughs.

“Do you know what you're doing to me, [Y/N]?”

“Mm, no,” your hands play with Lee's hair, behind his ear, “Pray tell?”

“You skewer with the data because...you create scenarios in my M.I.N.D. You drive me insane to the point that I have to investigate the data, correct it again, so that it won't interfere with mine.”

“What kind of data tampering do I do, Lee?” You were teasing at this point, Lee's ears turning red, “Explain it more.”

“You...” He wanted to throw a retort, but your teasing is relentless, that he only looks deep in your eyes, “You make me think of things that I want to do with you, that only lovers do.”

There you go. Your stomach flutters at the thought that you both shared the same sentiments.

“What kind, Lee?” You dropped your voice into a whisper, leaning to his ear, “Can you show me?”

“No, I-”

“-Don't hold back on me. That's an order.”

Under the light of the dining room, Lee's cerulean eyes turn into a darker shade, a low growl on his throat. Not a moment later, he hoists you by your ass and carries you onto the table, large hands touching your bare thighs. His face was still dangerously close to yours, lips touching, but not enough to leave a kiss.

“I'm not sure if I can please you enough,” he whispered, “But God, I want to touch you, [Y/N].”

The desperation in his voice. The slight shaking in his hands. Eager lips waiting to kiss you over and over— what a perfect concoction to appease the growing greed that was brewing down there. You decided to close the gap, hoping it was enough to answer the question Lee asked.

“Touch me more, Lee,” you whined when you pulled away slightly, hands all over his chest, “I want you. I need you so much.”

Lee doesn't waste any time. He kisses you once more, before carrying you once more in his arms. You leave it up to him, as he carries you back to your room, albeit clumsily as you feel yourself gently be squished in between the walls as he fumbles with the direction. But you don't mind, not when the kiss becomes fervent enough, tongue dipping to taste Lee's, to taste where you could reach. Your whines grow louder when you feel yourself lowered onto the soft surface— the bed— and the click of the door shut.

When you opened your eyes, Lee was already in the middle of taking off his upper clothes, revealing bionic skin in his shade, a glowing mark in the middle of his chest. Nevermind the way his arms looked, but the sight as he slowly undressed himself was enough to make your mouth (and probably your private area) water.

“Do you like the view?” Lee teases. Mindlessly, you nodded.

“Pretty...” you dawdled, admiring the glowing mark on his chest, “you're so pretty, Lee...”

“You should see yourself, [Y/N].”

Grasping to touch yourself, you realized that the shirt you were wearing was already raised to your tummy, revealing your panties. You didn't know what you looked like, really. But you trust Lee.

“I can't,” you smugly smiled, “Mind telling me what I look like now, Lee?”

As soon as he was finished in taking off his upper clothing, he leaned down, caging you in between his buff body. “Beautiful,” he said, thumb caressing your lips, “You look so delectable.”

Kissing you once more. Heat settles in between your pressed bodies, incessant hands reaching where they could. Gently, Lee's lips kissed your jaw, trailing to your ear. Softly, slow hands fiddling with the hem of his— now yours— shirt, teasing by the dip of your stomach. Butterfly kisses along your neck, nibbling so little, in a place where only Lee can see. A primal need gnawed at your heart; perhaps Lee's mark could be enough to satiate the need, right?

You craned your neck to him, muttering, “More, please.”

Hesitation sits where his lips were, short breaths fanning it. “Are you...are you sure?”

“Please,” your pleas somehow sound like a breathless moan, “We have two weeks to be here, right?”

You didn't see what his expression looked like, but he seemed convinced, teeth grazing on one particular spot that made you moan. And Lee devilishly nibbles on it.

“As you wish then, Commandant.”

Ah, the title again. You wanted to answer back, but Lee seemed to know where your weak spots were, with you writhing from pleasure. After the assault on your neck, his trail of kisses paused as he lifted off your shirt, revealing your breasts in their naked glory. Shimmying out of the shirt, you felt embarrassed already, covering yourself, in nothing but your underwear.

But Lee only held your hips, “Let me see you, [Y/N].”

“I-I don't think I have the best body, y'know,” you admitted, looking away, “It might not be perfect.”

Lee doesn't say a word. Taking your hands, he looks at you, before bringing it to his lips.

“[Y/N], look at me,” you do, mouth shut, “Tell me what you think of these hands?”

“Um,” you ponder for a moment, “For patting you?”

He smiles a bit, before kissing the back of your hands. “They can be used like that. But these are gentle hands, ones that use weapons to protect her comrades.”

He begins to trail kisses again, on your arms, to your shoulders, to your neck. You softly moaned as he kissed the side of your head, hearing him say, “Your arms are strong enough to carry your teammates, shouldering your strength that helps those you've always wanted to reach.”

“You're incredible, [Y/N],” he purred, kissing your clavicle, kissing you all the way, in between the valley of your breasts, “You are so beautiful, so powerful.”

Kissing and kissing your breasts, fondling them with care. You cry out his name from the sensitivity, the fluttering feelings all around you. He doesn't break eye contact as he takes a nipple into his mouth, sucking it, and playing with the other.

Your mouth is a chorus, now— babbles of "Lee, Lee", "more, please", that the way he caged you perfectly in between his legs, you couldn't help but drown in the way he's holding you.

A while later, his lips travel to your stomach, your waist, a teasing little kiss on your hips— hoisting your legs up to his broad shoulders. He looks at you, as if asking you to not look away.

“[Y/N],” his voice sounds so sultry, mesmerizing you, “You may think that you're not perfect, but to me, you've always been so...holy, divine.”

Lee pressed a kiss to your ankles, to your legs, your knees, “I could worship you forever like this,” a few more kisses on the back of your legs- “I'll do this just so you know how much I adore you.”

How intimate, how devoted your Lee was— with your legs so close to his chest, you could feel his heartbeat thrumming. It was beating so loud like yours, a perfect mirror that rumbled in every part of your body, pulsating with so much want and need, that it made you want to pull him closer.

“Lee,” you moaned, feeling his lips slowly kiss your knees, trailing to the inside of your thighs, “Lee,”

“I'm right here,” He pressed a kiss to your weeping, clothed cunt, sending a jolt throughout your body, “Let me hear you more, my [Y/N]. Don't cover your mouth.”

You don't. Not when he sucks your clothed cunt with such vigor, your back arching for him. Your hands find themselves seeking respite in his hair, as he pulls down your soaked underwear, agonizingly slow. Wiggling out of it, you peered down to look at Lee, nearly drooling at the way your pussy was displayed all for him. You felt yourself dripping with want.

“God,” Lee groaned, a mix of a breathless moan and sigh, his fingers experimentally rubbing your labia, “You're even so beautiful down here, my [Y/N].”

You moaned at his words, hole clenching around nothing. You've touched yourself down there on fairly lonely nights, wishing it was Lee's hands instead of your own. But right now, as he rubs your slit with your slick, how lewdly your own mouth betrayed you, you may as well wish those lonely nights won't return, as the real thing was far better than your imagination.

“Lee, stop teasing,” you whined, “Touch me more.”

“I am already doing that,” he said, “Do you not feel it?”

“Well, honestly, with the way you're- nngh-”

He licked a long stripe on your slit, causing you to moan out loud. Hearing your reaction, Lee licks the same spot once more, making you twitch. But his hands are faster, holding your hips.

“Delectable,” He said, licking his lips, “I want to taste more.”

His lips latch onto your peeking clit, lapping at you like a starved man. It's messy, yet so hot— fingers prodding your hole, Lee's mouth on your needy pussy. You've lost all common sense at this point, fingers grasping tightly on his hair, babbling senselessly for Lee, tears crying as he works you out of your climax. You badly wish it wasn't a dream; your fingers could no longer do justice to the way Lee was taking you right now. It doesn't take any longer, though— you tried to warn Lee, but you came so unexpectedly, squirting uncontrollably with a loud cry of Lee's name.

You tread the wonders of your high, shaking with ultimate pleasure, as Lee dutifully coaxed out your juices, licking you clean. When you've come down, you've noticed Lee hovering above you, cerulean eyes still clouded with lust, yet with appreciation.

“That's it,” he cooed, fingers brushing away the hair that covered your face, “you're so amazing, my [Y/N].”

You moaned as he leaned down to kiss you, hands wrapped to cradle you, and you could taste yourself, cum and slick, on his lips. But you never minded that— let alone how hot it felt.

“Do you still want to do this?” Lee asked, looking at you with concern, “We can call it a day when you're overwhelmed.”

“No,” you said, pulling him closer, “We're past the point of no return. Besides...”

Placing a hand on his cheek, to which he leaned, you spoke, “I want you to be my first, Lee.”

He freezes. Looking up, he muttered, “A-are you sure? I don't want you to regret it.”

“I will never mind if it's you.” You smiled, “If anything, I want to give it all to you. I...adore you far too much. You'll only make my wishes come true.”

Lee thought for a moment, before looking back at you. “We're the same, then.”

Swiftly taking off his boxers, Lee's cock stands tall and proud, bouncing off to his stomach. You marveled at the sight, mouth-watering once more. You reached out to wrap your hands around the shaft, causing Lee to moan.

“Pretty,” you massaged the shaft, smearing the tip that had his pre-cum, “you're so big, too.”

Tall and long, and you feared he'd be too big to fit inside of you. It was veiny, with the fat mushroom tip with a lot of pre-cum. You wanted to put him in your mouth to return the favor, but with your cunt crying out loud of his cock, you wanted nothing more but to ask him to bury himself inside of you.

Lee looked like he could cum from your touch alone. But he doesn't want to— no, he had to be inside of you. He swallows his moans down, but the longer you jerk him, whiny groans and whimpering began to overwhelm him.

“Let me- hah,” Lee steals one last kiss on your cheek, before preparing to align himself to take your maidenhead, “I want you, [Y/N].”

“And I need you, Lee.” You cupped his cheek, whining as you felt his tip catch your clit, cock rubbing your drenched pussy, “I need you inside of me.”

Lee helps himself, guiding his cock in. You moaned out loud as you felt the tip prod your quivering hole, hands tightly grabbing onto his shoulders. Lee immediately holds your hips, a few shallow thrusts to help you accommodate his size. Your mouth slips out moans, eyes rolling back as half of his cock is already inside of you. But God, did you already feel so full, brushing a soft spot inside of you.

“[Y/N],” Lee stutters, heavily sigh that became a moan, “You feel so t-tight, hah,”

“Lee,” you cried out as he thrusted shallowly, weakly pulling his arm, “you're so big...”

“Shh, I'm sorry, I'm almost there,” he cooed, kissing the corner of your lips, “A little bit more.”

You scream his name as Lee finally bottoms out, triggering your second orgasm. Lee could only moan as he grasped your hips, groaning at the way you tightened, squeezing him without mercy. But he still rubs your hips, easing you back to reality.

“Fuck,” Blurring out, but hearing him curse, made you involuntarily clench around him, “You're not only tight, but you're nearly killing me here.”

“S-sorry,”

Lee only thrusts into you as an answer. Squeaking from the sensitivity, you tried to reason out, but failed as Lee chuckled.

“It's not your fault, [Y/N]. I guess it means I'm good, hm?”

Bastard. Still so cocky. You pouted, “You are mean.”

“And you're so pretty.”

Lee resumed thrusting in and out of you, the recoil making your breasts bounce. One hand holds your hips, the other on your hand, taking them to his lips. As pleasure starts to build despite your sensitivity, you somehow recognize the gravity of the situation: Lee's smell, your nearly-fucked out senses, the creak of your bed, and the way he was still making love to you, your virginities now given to each other. Lee fucks into you just right, the cock hitting all of the spots that made you babble. Everything was overwhelmingly good, that you arched off of the bed, his cock hitting inside of you deeper.

“Lee,” you cried out, “Lee, God,”

“I'm here,” he leaned to you, “I'm here.”

You never wanted this moment to end. You forget your responsibilities, you forget the war— even just for a moment, everything was perfect for the both of you. As Lee settles your legs in his shoulders, the intense feeling is knotting at the bottom of your stomach, waiting to snap.

“[Y/N],” Lee cooed, “Are you going to come?”

“Y-yes,” you moaned, “I wanna come with you-”

“I'm almost there,” as if adhering to your needs, Lee slips his fingers to your clit, rubbing it, “You can do it.”

Your climax really is coming, alongside Lee's. But before the knot snaps, you realize that Lee is still speaking.

“[Y/N],” in between moans and your whining, Lee gripped your hands, cerulean eyes glimmering. “My [Y/N]-”

“-I love you.”

You teetered so close to the edge that you couldn't process his words. But it was enough to reach your climax. Writhing, you felt yourself be filled with something down there, you and Lee moaning each other's names. He rests his head in between your shoulders. And you were perfectly content with the weight on top of you.

It takes you a few moments to process it. In between catching breaths, his hair in your fingers, your other hand fiddling with his own, the message seems clear.

“Are you okay?” Lee asked as soon as he was back on top of you, still sheathed inside of you, “Did I hurt you?”

“No...” Your eyes must be glimmering like his, as your tears began to blur your vision, “What a charming man you are, Lee.”

Lee understood, but he still feigned ignorance. “Hm? How so.”

Pressing your hands flat on his chest, you felt his heartbeat, slowing down to a normal one, and it made you wish that you could stay like that forever.

“I love you, too, Lee.” These were words you've longed to say after all. “I will always love you.”

Lee only smiled, cheeks tinted in the bright shade of pink, “...I'm glad you heard that, then, my [Y/N].”

How funny that the ride home seemed silent. But the words were far better spoken out loud in the end.

BONUS:

“Lee! Commandant! We're back!”

The sound of the door opening at the Gray Raven lounge reverberates. Two figures emerge inside, carrying a bag full of ingredients.

“Lee?” Liv asked, looking around, “Where is he?”

“It's unlike him to leave so abruptly.” Lucia shrugged, “Let's check on the Commandant.”

Leaving the bag on the table, Liv and Lucia trotted to the Commadant's room, finding two figures sleeping next to each other.

“Oh,” Lucia whispered, beckoning Liv to be silent, “They're here. Lee's sleeping next to the Commandant.”

“I see...” Liv looks around to find clothes all over the floor. “Did someone break in? Why is the floor messy?”

“I don't know. Lee was probably trying to dress the Commandant.”

“I noticed the plates were also unwashed. Did the Commandant already wake up?”

“We'll just ask later when Lee's awake.”

When the door of the Commandant's room finally closed, a loud slap could be heard.

“Ow, [Y/N]-”

“I am never going to go out of this room.” You sighed in embarrassment, remembering that the hickies on your neck are very visible, and you're probably aware that you couldn't walk. “I'm screwed.”

“We just did.”

“Lee!”

— starry

[aurumacadicus]

Send a number? Ok! How about 18? Or 35 if that one has been asked already

Steve stared down at his hands, rubbing his thumb over the wedding ring around his finger. Tony was sat across the table from him, face impassive. The counselor they were seeing had stepped out for a moment, apparently a 'couple in crisis' on the phone that she needed to calm immediately. Steve wished she would come back. Wished he and Tony were in crisis. Anything other than this, betraying and feeling betrayed with a table between them and nothing to stay.

"Were you ever going to tell me?" Tony asked, voice quiet, eyes dropping to the surface of the table.

Steve sucked in a sharp breath, grinding his teeth. "We shouldn't talk without the counselor here."

"You let me talk about our life together that included kids for weeks and just now you dropped that you don't like children?" Tony hissed, eyes darting back up to him, full of fire and brimstone.

"It's for the act," Steve tried, but even as he said it, he knew that Tony didn't believe it. He didn't believe it, either.

"I thought I'd be a good dad," Tony said, and he sounded so defeated, it broke Steve's heart.

He couldn't look at him anymore. He looked back down at the ring on his finger instead and immediately regretted it. It just made him feel worse. "You will be a good dad, Tony."

"So, what, you'll choke down your distaste for children for me?" Tony asked, and there was a hint of steel in his voice now. "I've lived with that as the kid, Steve. It wasn't healthy for anyone."

Steve jerked his head up, tears filling his eyes. "Tony, I didn't say I don't like children. I said I'm scared. And if you were as smart as you always say you are, you'd be scared too." Tony opened his mouth, offended, but Steve plowed over him, biting out, "I broke three doorknobs this week. Doorknobs. I keep imagining a baby in my hands--" He spread his hands on the table, palms up, and was ashamed to find them shaking. "--and babies are so delicate, Tony, I. What if. What if I--"

Tony reached out to cover his hands with his own. "You never hurt me," he told him gently.

"I don't want to even accidentally hurt a baby, Tony," Steve whispered.

The hurt had faded from Tony's face. Resignation didn't look any better on him. "Who would adopt to us anyway?" he asked, and the humor he'd tried to inject into his tone didn't work. "We're not even here in good faith. How could we make sure they were never in danger?"

"Thor said Amora wouldn't be able to manipulate us like she had the other couples," Steve reminded him half-heartedly. "We wouldn't bring them on missions."

"Maybe I can just be a really good uncle," Tony sighed, as if there was nothing to argue about anymore, drawing his hands back into his lap.

This was why he hadn't wanted to tell Tony, Steve thought, watching him carefully tuck the idea of children into a little box and hide it away as if he didn't still desperately want it. Tony was too accommodating. He was already making up reasons he couldn't have a child so Steve couldn't take any of the blame for it.

Steve picked up the table and threw it at the counselor when she tried to come back in, and Amora caught it with a sparking-green hand. This wasn't a conversation he was going to have in front of an enemy, and throwing punches at her would help him work out all his jittery nerves. He wanted the calm after battle to be able to get his thoughts in order and really hash this out.

Even if they decided they didn't want kids after, it was going to be a mutual decision, not Tony simply taking it off the table and believing he was wrong for wanting them.

[ladysomething]

hi mads!!! i’m on a vacation rn and was just thinking about max and charles going on one and what would happen so i just wanted to ask if we are gonna get a scene like that or probably not? 🩷🩷

well I guess we'll get summer break?? that kind of counts??? but I'm not telling you what happens! hahah

instead you can have this completely unrelated fic I started while I was just on holidays!!!

completely unedited, haven't read it back so it might be garbage but have everything I wrote for it anyway

The year Max retired from F1, Charles won his second Championship. 

Max had been going to win it, probably, because he’d had such a lead over Charles going into summer break. Even Charles hadn’t thought he’d be able to overturn the deficit, not with with shitty car Ferrari had built that year. 

And then, two days before the season was going to start up again after summer break, Max had announced his retirement from F1—effective immediately. 

Charles had called and texted, and called and texted, but eventually the number had come back as disconnected. 

It’s been five years since then, and every day Charles wonders what happened. He’d asked all their mutual friends, and then he’d even tried just Max’s friends, and eventually he’d even decided to bother Sophie and Victoria, but nobody would tell him anything. Charles has thought of everything in that time: maybe Max was sick. Maybe his mother was sick. Maybe Red Bull had wanted something Max couldn’t give. Maybe Max had just decided he simply didn’t want to get in a car one more time. 

Without a single photo of Max in the last five years, Charles had even wondered whether Max had died. 

Now, standing in a patisserie, in a tiny rural town in France, Charles finally has his answer. 

“What the fuck?” Charles demands, stalking up to him. Max’s shoulders go tense, and then he spins around, jaw dropped. “What the fuck?” 

Max claps his hands down over the ears of the little girl he’s with, then says, “Language!” like that’s really the biggest issue right now. 

“Don’t you—I thought you were dead!” Charles shrieks, feeling half insane. The staff member and the only other customer in the shop stare at him, but Charles doesn’t care. “Max—you!” 

He rushes towards Max, probably looking half insane, which is confirmed when Max tenses up like Charles is going to punch him, but instead Charles throws his arms around Max’s shoulder and pulls him in as close as he can, hooking his chin over Max’s shoulder and pulling their chests so tight that Charles can’t really breathe. 

Max is clearly surprised, but Charles doesn’t let him go, just pulls him in tighter until Max puts one arm around Charles’ waist too. It’s clearly what Max needed, because he sighs into it and then is hugging Charles back fiercely, face buried in his neck. 

Fuck. Charles has missed him so fucking much. 

He breathes him in deeply, but Max doesn’t smell like he remembers; there’s not even a hint of petrol on him, no smell of oil or tyres. He just smells . . . normal. 

It’s Max who lets go first, and Charles reluctantly follows. 

“I missed you,” Charles tells him, terribly earnest. He’ll feel humiliated about it later. 

Max gives him a small smiles, and then says, “I missed you, too,” with the same raw emotion in his voice. 

Maybe Charles won’t feel humiliated about it, then. 

Beside Max, the little girl tugs on his hand. Max turns to look down at her, expression so fond and open that it takes Charles’ breath away. It hasn’t hard to guess who she is: she looks exactly like Max. 

Blonde hair up in two little pigtails, round, pink cheeks, blue eyes, and dressed in a baby blue and white checkered dress. She has on little white socks with frills around the edges, white sneakers, and a little chain bracelet with a star on it. Charles thinks the star might be inset with diamonds, which he wouldn’t put past Max, really. 

“Papa,” she whispers urgently, tugging on his hand again. 

Max smiles at her and crouches down, letting the girl whisper into his ear. She’s staring nervously up at Charles as she does, but when Charles tries to give her an encouraging smile her eyes widen and she looks away from him. 

“This is Mister Leclerc,” Max says, straightening back up. “Charlie, this is Céline.” 

Lump in his throat, Charles kneels down himself, not caring that the floor of the patisserie is probably going to ruin his white linen pants. 

“Bonjour, Céline,” Charles says softly. “I like your dress. Blue is my favourite colour.” 

Céline lights up, smiling at him widely. She’s got the same smile as Max, her full lips pulling up her cheeks so she’s smiling with her whole face. Charles wonders what parts of her mother she has in her; as far as he can see, she’s all Max. 

“It’s my favourite, too,” she confesses with a heavily accented voice, and then looks like she’s concentrating very hard on something, before she turns back to Max. “Papa, hoe zeg ik in het Engels dat ik de ogen van meneer Leclerc mooi vind?” 

Charles looks up at Max, who looks like he’s about to burst into laughter, and says, “Why don’t you try French?” 

In almost perfect French, she says, “I like your eyes.” 

Charles’ face flushes red as he glances up at Max, who is grinning widely. 

“I like your eyes, too,” Charles answers in French, because that’s clearly easier for her. Max has clearly been putting in a lot of effort with her, if she can already speak three languages. “They look like your father’s.” 

Céline beams at him and leans into Max’s thigh, burying her face into his pants as she giggles. When Charles looks up again, Max’s cheeks have gone pink, too. 

“Are you staying in town?” Max asks Charles as he stands back up. “Céline and I are on our way home from the park for nap time, but maybe you can around for dinner tonight?” 

Charles isn’t staying in town. He’s actually only here because he got hungry and decided to stop for a pastry on his drive back to Monaco—he’s got plans there tonight, and all of tomorrow. 

Instead, he blurts out, “Yes, I’m staying in—I’d love to come over. For dinner. Tonight.” Max stares at him like he’s an idiot, and Charles finishes with a lame, “Please.” 

[captainjacklyn]

Love, Love, Love Part 2-ish

A/N : continuation of this and this, hope you liked the first part because I'm on an absolute roll. To all those waiting for a continuation of many of my series, I am so sorry. I'm serious guys pls forgive me I know it's been a really long time since and I still need to finish other requests I started.

Context : Rollo gets transferred to NRC for a few months, The Headmaster decides that he would be staying at Ramshackle Dorm much to Malleus' dismay (along with grim and the first years who are aware of the truth). Yuu doesn't find it nice either but with time they allow the third year to open up to them, eventually growing mutual respect for one another, perhaps some friendship..and a bit more.

Warning(s) : fluff, mostly crack, hints of rollo liking Yuu, this is a continuation of some sort to my joke so pls understand that it isn't from the beginning, Rollo might be OOC he's just scared of Yuu, they/them pronouns for Prefect, the first years who weren't present in glorious masquerade find out and try to push rollo away. (it doesn't work) is this stolen from peter rabbit ? Yes. Most. but not all of it.

The story starts...now ?

Something suspicious was stirring around the 'relationship' between Yuu and the strange newcomer. At least it looked like it to their close friends who were already bitter about the idea of that religious trauma-induced student coming but even more so when that horrible influence hung around their prefect.

It wasn't as if they didn't trust Yuu, they didn't trust him ! He was being all close with their mom friend pal, knowing what he did, they weren't going to stand around and do nothing. They're gonna do something about it, about him.

It all began the day the Adeuce duo and Epel witnessed Yuu casually speaking with grey haired priest and HE WAS SMILING?! OH HELL NAH GET YOUR EYEBALLS OFF OF THEM- but truly they misunderstood, for now at least, since most of the resident's interactions regarded around Yuu, threatening Flamm..Of ripping his guts out.

.

.

.

.

.

"Ace, Deuce!" Grim shouted through the halls as he ran towards them, the both of them turned around to see the raccoon panting and wheezing from his sprint. "Hey there Grim- Woah what was that?~ You trynna imitate being a cheetah now?" Ace teased, his remark making the fire cat retort with a 'hey!' before Deuce stepped in to ask the obvious question. "What's wrong?" forgetting his comeback, Grim immediately switched back to panic mode.

"My Henchman! A-A-And that weird suspicious dude! They're SPENDING TIME TOGETHER AND BEING ALL WEIRD MUSHY LOOKING!" He exclaimed, his revelation shocking the two freshmen who's eyes widened in horror. "What- How?! Didn't prefect say they hated that guy?" Ace sputtered as he tried making sense of the situation, he was a bit confused as to why he was reacting this way but with the amount of braincells left he couldn't care anymore.

"That's what I thought! But this morning I found them- laughing and talking to each other!" he added more fuel to the fire, ace and deuce exchanged concerned glances and spoke in unison. "We gotta get the others."

"Yes !" Grim smiled as he threw a fist in the air. It took a good second for him to realize they didn't say what he thought they would.

"...Wait what- AH!" But he didn't have time to argue as they grabbed him by the neck and made their way to find the others.

Passing through Savannaclaw, Pomefiore and Diasomnia almost felt like an eternity to fetch Jack, Epel and Sebek. Especially the half-fae as he was persistent on the idea of staying by his future king's side during the entire duration of Rollo's stay. After sharing the news, they all bolted to Ramshackle dorm, and there they saw it.

Yuu was having a conversation with the same young man that dropped them down a trap door when they came around for a celebration. The same young man who tried to erase magic forever. And they were speaking like they've been friends for years.

The group of first years were hiding behind a tree, in between the gates of the not-so-abandoned dorm. All of their heads comically poking out to take a peek at the flabbergasting sight. "That's a lot of smiling." Epel commented as he watched the prefect supposedly laugh at something Rollo said. (They weren't, they quite literally started to laugh because of Rollo's genuinely terrified face) "More than before even." he continued, Ace added on with another remark, "They're showing a lot of teeth."

Then, Jack made a very bold statement which earned collective noises of disgust from the rest of the team. "Do you think they like him?" Sebek's face morphed into horror, Grim started gagging, Deuce looked like he was going through fifty existential crisis all at the same time, meanwhile Ace was debating on what he should express. Either way they were all mortified.

"They don't like him, they're just being nice! Yuu is nice all the time, they always smile at us!" the grey monster retorted, denying any further supposition. "Well..not like that." They flipped their heads towards the pair, and Yuu's hand rested on Rollo's shoulder as he chuckled nervously.

.

.

.

.

.

"Could you imagine? You trying to take over the world again? What a joke ! I would bury you alive honestly!" the non-magic student exclaimed as they broke into another loud laughter. Rollo could only nod along a little offended but mostly nervous, "Right yes no that would- that won't ever happen." "Yes because I will actually force-feed you the flowers you tried killing us with."

"😨"

"😄"

Yay. Part 3 coming up soon.

[joelswritingmistress]

You Scare Me, Professor: Chapter 18

Summary: The reader is taking graduate classes at a local university in the wooded upstate New York. She is drawn to her professor, Dr. Joel Miller, though she is also inherently aware that he has something dark about him that she can't quite put her finger on. As the reader's attraction grows deeper, she has to decide whether to endure the danger or run away as fast as possible. 

Trigger Warning: Mention of S.A./ Violence

Pairing: Professor Joel Miller x f!reader

Early Terrible. That was the name of the swanky, bohemian restaurant Dr. Miller and I ended up at for dinner. When he pulled into the dirt parking lot, that was surrounded by low hanging trees, I was surprised.

“I have always wanted to check this place out,” I confessed, “I follow them on-”

“Instagram.” Dr. Miller finished my sentence. “I know. That's why I chose this place.”

I glanced over at him and just stared. “How do you know these things?”

“I'm sorry.” He stared directly at me, not rushing to get out of the car. Dr. Miller closed his eyes for a moment and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I know.. I know what I do is too much. It's probably wrong.” He opened his eyes and shook his head, “It is wrong. I shouldn't have been snooping on your social media before we started a relationship, or even now.”

I needed truths, and I knew now was a good time to get some information when Dr. Miller was voluntarily opening up. “Did you ever drive by my house? Before we really.. started all this?”

He looked me directly in the eye. “Yes.”

“More than once.”

“Yeah.” Dr. Miller swallowed hard. He looked like he was in the hot seat on trial. I had never seen him so outwardly vulnerable and easy to read.

“Why?”

His eyes continued to burn into mine. “I know the terrible people who are out there. I've seen it up close. And..” Dr. Miller shook his head. “I know this relationship is new, but with the murders on campus I've just taken it upon myself to look after you.. a little excessively.”

“Even before we were together.. if that's what we are?”

“I was immediately attracted to you,” Dr. Miller explained. “And almost right away into the semester the first woman was killed. No offense but I didn't think you'd be able to defend yourself if someone attacked you. So I just kind of.. looked after you from a distance.”

“That's a little-”

“Obsessive,” he finished and looked away. “I know. I just.. have experience with this kind of thing and I know, if I ever needed to, I could-”

“Experience with what kind of thing?”

Dr. Miller looked down toward the steering wheel and then back to me. “I have a story I'd like to tell you.. inside. It's a terrible fucking story, but it's something I want you to know. You'll probably want to run away afterwards, and I'll gladly drop you off back at your house with Tori if that's what you decide.”

“I'm not going to judge you.” I shook my head. “And if it makes you feel any better, I searched for almost an hour looking for information about you online.” I snickered. “I just couldn't find anything.” I added, “And I totally followed you from campus to the bar at the center of town. So I guess I'm just as weird.”

“I just feel very protective of you,” Dr. Miller told me.

I got goosebumps. We had only met that month and he already had this hold on me. It was a very willing hold, but it was so tense and so strong that I visibly shuddered. The connection was intense - and it was obsessively mutual.

“I want to listen to everything you have to tell me,” I explained, reaching for his hand, adding again, “I'm not going to judge you.”

His face remained serious. There was no crack of a smile. No hints of anything lighthearted or jovial. All of that disappeared when I asked him how he knew about my interest in Early Terrible.

Dr. Miller clicked open the door and I walked with him toward the restaurant. I purposely interlocked my fingers with his and he glanced over at me before looking down the rest of the way as we took the short walk inside.

The cozy, eccentric little restaurant was exactly like the pictures on their Instagram account had depicted. It was unique and dark, with leather couches and plants strung about in strategic places to create the motif they were going for. Behind a dimly lit bar with yellow flickering lanterns perched on the wall was a tree that appeared to be bursting through the wooden palettes where liquor bottles rested on shelves. 

There were chandeliers and odd shaped wooden tables, all seeming to be purposely spread apart so people could have their own private conversations.

A woman approached in a white dress with a see-through midriff and frayed sleeves with tassels. She smiled wide and adjusted a headband that matched her eccentric outfit.

“Two for tonight?” She asked.

“Please.” Dr. Miller nodded and adjusted his tie, putting a hand on my back as he encouraged me to lead the way to wherever the hostess was taking us.

We passed by other diners, who didn't so much as give a fleeting glance in our direction, before settling in at a table for two in a quiet corner of the establishment.

“The waitress will be right with you,” she informed us, handing over a set of menus before disappearing, seemingly, into the shadows.

I looked directly across at Dr. Miller and his face was pained. It looked like someone was literally stabbing him in the ribs. That's how uncomfortable he appeared. His vulnerability was freaking me out more than anything he’d revealed to me thus far.

The waitress came over and took our drink orders and then wandered off with a promise to return momentarily.

“There's been a little backstory that's kind of impacted my entire life,” Dr. Miller explained. “I haven't been completely successful with it and I've done some things I'm not particularly proud of in my lifetime.”

My hand topped his on the table, and I allowed him to continue without interruption.

“I told you I had an older sister,” he reminded me.

“Carol.” I half-smiled but let it quickly fade.

Dr. Miller finally managed a barely-there smirk. “That's right.”

The waitress returned with the set of beers we’d ordered and we decided quickly on a collection of tapas for dinner. When the waitress disappeared again, I returned my whole focus back to Dr. Miller, who took a long swig from his glass.

“I should've gotten something stronger.” He smacked his lips. “But I'm driving you, so I won't.” Dr. Miller’s thumb danced in circles over the top of mine.

“You don't have to tell me.”

“I want to.” His eyes lifted to meet mine and he swallowed hard. “Carol is six years older than me. She was a great big sister, still is.” Dr Miller smiled at the mention of her name but it quickly faded. “I, um.. when I was fourteen, she was twenty..” He scrunched his nose and I gripped his hand harder, “She was being attacked by a UPS man who had dropped off a package at our house.” He took a deep breath and looked back into my eyes, “I had been out playing ball with my friends and I just remembered her screaming for help. Our parents weren't home. It was the summer. They were at work, she was home from college. I was about to enter my freshman year of high school.”

“Oh, Joel..” I shook my head, naturally addressing him by his first name for the first time.

“I had a baseball bat in my hand and she was screaming for help.. crying a little bit.” Dr. Miller swallowed hard and I saw his eyes tear up as he spoke. “So, I hit him. And I hit him again.. and again.. and again.”

All I could do was listen. I didn't dare try to interrupt or idiotically tell him it was okay, or that I understood. I didn't. I couldn't imagine the trauma that lingered from everything Dr. Miller was explaining to me.

“He died from his injuries.” He wiped a stray tear that managed to escape the duct of his left eye. “We moved away not long after that. I went to a high school where no one knew me. My parents did the best they could for us. I had to sit on trial and answer questions. Lawyers tried to make it sound like I was some maniac.. but the jury found me not guilty of every charge they tried to bring me up on.”

I was speechless. I almost wished he’d saved it for behind closed doors so I could comfort him properly. What was I supposed to say? I had no words.

“I'm so sorry.” That was all that came to mind and it felt so lame. “I can't imagine what you must have gone through.” My second hand fell over the top of his.

“I'll never forget the details of that day. I think Carol was even scared of me for a while.  She’d never admit it and adamantly denies it now. But I don't blame her.” Dr. Miller looked off to the side, catching his breath and letting out a long, expressive exhale. “In time I think it brought us closer. And my parents did what they thought was right by moving us away from all the drama, and the looks and the constant questions. Some people thought I was crazy, others would pat me on the back and call me a hero. Both equally made me feel like shit for some reason. But as I got older, I realized that there was one less piece of shit on this earth because of what I did. He wouldn't be able to hurt someone else - and that helped me at least sleep at night.”

Dr. Miller scoffed and shook his head, almost appearing as if he was trying to convince himself of the next part. “I stopped him. He could still be out there today hurting other young women.” He took a sip from his beer and nearly finished it on a single guzzle.

“It's so unfair,” I finally said. “For you to have to go through that.. and at fourteen years old.” My mind couldn't even accurately comprehend what he had just told me.

“It's still better than what Carol had to go through.”

“I'm sorry.” My hand ran partially up his sleeve and back down. “I shouldn't have pried. You probably didn't want to rehash such a terrible memory.”

“You didn't pry,” Dr. Miller said, “I pried.. into your life. You just asked me why. And this is why. This is what I meant when I said I've seen this up close.”

“Have you talked to anyone about all of this?” I asked. “Professionally?”

He nodded. “It's helped. I just have very low tolerance for that sort of thing. And Alec Pryor was just another predator. He's no different than any of the others. I looked into you initially because of my interest, and then I went overboard when I thought you could be in some lunatic’s crosshairs.”

“You don't think this guy ever targeted me, specifically, do you?” The question suddenly popped into my mind.

“No, not particularly,” Dr. Miller added. “But I didn't want to take a chance.”

“Why me?” 

“What do you mean?”

“Why did you choose me? Of everyone in your life. Of all the women you could try to protect from.. the world. Why me?”

Dr. Miller stared at me intently and then finally shook his head. “I don't really have an explanation. It's just been.. a feeling. I shouldn't have even pursued you, being a student in my class.”

“I'm twenty-seven,” I reminded him.

“It doesn't matter.” Dr. Miller shook his head, “Like I said, I've done some things that aren't right. I shouldn't have entertained this. I shouldn't have followed you. I shouldn't have done any of the things I've done since I've met you.”

I was waiting for the other shoe to drop. For the disappointment. For Dr. Miller to tell me it wasn't right for us to be together and that this was over. I didn't want him to have a sudden change of heart.

“But I can't stand being more than ten feet away from you,” he went on, making all of my instant anxiety subside. “And I’m praying that my story didn't scare you enough to make you want to run away. I know this sounds like a line and we haven't been together for long but I have never felt so organically connected to another woman in my life. And I've never told that story to anyone else.. not since I moved away in ninth grade.”

Why me? I still didn't know why Dr. Miller felt the way he did about me, or even why he trusted me so quickly; but I would never spill his secrets, and I would never outcast him or brand him as something terrible over what happened in his childhood. I also wasn't about to question what it was about me that drew him in. From my own perspective, I was just an average chick trying to figure out life. I had nothing over the top going for me, though I wasn't exactly unsuccessful either. I was average, at least in my eyes. Dr. Miller had this natural allure that pulled me in. I knew other students felt a fraction of that magnetism, too, and I could tell by Tori’s first expression when he walked through the door that she felt it. I didn't have that type of hold on people, and I knew it. So, I couldn't help but mentally beg the same question over and over. Why me?

“Why don't we get our meals to go?” I suggested. Immediately I could see a solemn expression plague his features and I was more specific about my intentions. “Not so I can go home. So we can go home.”

I rose to my feet and rounded the small, wooden table, positioning myself on Dr. Miller’s lap. I cradled his head against my chest and held him there.

“You've been taking care of me,” I reminded him. “Now, let me take care of you.”

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