#i've been waiting for that movie to be on tv for a while now
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Aw man, Napola will be on German television in a few days and I won't be able to watch it...
#napola#napola elite für den führer#i've been waiting for that movie to be on tv for a while now#the joys of having only one TV in the house and a father who hates german movies (or rather anything that I would like to watch...alone)
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(//i don't normally do text but cw in the tags erm. i went a little off track)
#inanimate insanity#ii#ii lightbulb#daily lightbulb#scribbly bulb#god. ohh my god. im not doing so hot yall#once again i apologize for suddenly halting on posting; ive had a couple rough days recently and it's constantly crashed my motivation to#even QUEUE SCREENSHOTS. my mental health has been so messed up too and i just had to take a step back#for starters. happy birthday to my baby sister that was born yesterday. like legit. im a big sister now#it's hard getting used to it; i was never good with change#secondly; like in the 100 post i've gained a new fixation thats unfortunately pushed ii to the side#i have adhd and autism so its hard for me to keep up with such a daily routine that includes a media i may end up losing interest in#i LOVE lightbulb and i LOVE ii i just.....need a bit#thirdly; i actually havent seen inside out 2 yet. might end up watching it this week or next week though which will be fun#while waiting in the hospital inside out was playing on the room tv so i wanted to draw smth to get my thoughts out#inside out is one of my favorite. modern? disney movies. rlly means a lot to me.#sorry for ranting i shouldnt dump all my life problems on yall LMAO you just wanna see lb pics#anyways posting will try and resume! cant afford to slack off with ii 15 being so close#if anyone is reading this ty sm for liking my silly blog and i hope you have a good day/night#102
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God's TV- DC x DP prompt
Accidentally summoning a god from another dimension can happen, especially when cults are involved. However, no can could predict that the not only was the god a teenage boy but also a very bored teenage boy who didn't want to leave.
So he stayed and moved into Titans tower.
Danny is helpful (when he wants to be) but rarely goes out on missions. He says they are boring and nothing is dangerous enough to exert the effort. Instead, he minds the medical bay. Having a healer more than made up for the lack of help.
It's not like anyone disliked Danny or thought he didn't do anything it was just that he was unpredictable. Danny could be nice, considerate, and even sweet if he was working in the medbay. He could also be a pain in the ass anywhere else. He loved pranks and scaring people with his powers. He was harmless though.
No one really knew what he did all day. He was usually in his room doing something they guested. Said room was an anomaly. It was larger on the inside having been made into a pocket dimension. The appearance and organization of the room changed every time you went in.
It was after one mission that the team learned what was in the room.
A rogue had used their invention to erase Superboy's memories and they didn't know what to do. They took him to Danny who was currently rearranging the medicine by color. They hoped that his powers covered mind-altering afflictions. Unfortunately, Danny couldn't wave a hand and fix this.
Instead, Danny took the group to his room. The decor was neon Tokyo meets space right now. The furniture was currently floating and almost hitting Wonder Girl in the head with an end table. Of course, there was no gravity here.
"Stay here while I grab it," Danny said flying up the vertical corridor.
While he was gone the room rearranged itself into a contemporary format. The furniture grounded itself and shifted into a normal living room.
Danny returned with a cart and a headset. He placed a card he pulled out of the cart into the headset and put it on the dazed Superboy's head.
"Wait what is that?" Tim asked.
"It's his memories. I kept a backup in case this happened." Danny shrugged.
Immediately everyone began asking what the hell does that mean and why does he have that.
"Oh please, this dimension has this happened all the time. Amnesia is so cliché and cheap. I saw a pattern and decided the easiest way to prevent you from losing the entirety of your lives was to make save states of your memories." Danny said matter of fact.
Robin pinched the bridge of his nose.
Impulse studied the rack of cases and looking for the card with his name on it.
Wondergirl sighed, she was used to this from Robin but even he wouldn't go this far.
"What? It's not like just anyone can find these. Only you can access your own memories anyways. I just decided to repurpose my RE:Viewer." Danny pouted.
"What is a reviewer?" Wally asked flipping through the cases. Each one had titles like moves or shows with an arrangement of stickers.
"The RE:Viewer is something I created to catalog things I've seen looking into other dimensions. I don't have an infinite memory you know. But the longer I have my title the more I'll lose touch with my mortality. These things help me stay close to people by giving me the chance to remember how it feels. I also have been using them to get the stories of others. Keeping their experiences like you'd keep a TV show or movie. So many stories could have been lost to time but now they are saved. I use them to teach myself." Danny smiled.
The concept genuinely sounded interesting. Like experiencing a movie in 4d.
It had been 3 minutes before Kon took off the headset and back to his old self.
Danny pulled the input card out and it disappeared into another realm with a flick of the wrist. Danny was completely honest that the copies were inaccessible to everyone but him.
"You feeling alright Superboy? Your memory should be backed up until a week ago." Danny said shining a light in his eye.
"I'm fine. I think. What happened?" Kon asked batting the light out of his eyes.
"Explanation later. Take a nap first. You aren't concussed at least." Danny informed.
"What are the stickers for?" Wally said pointing at the rainbow of colors the card cases had.
"Just the emotions associated with the experiences. Orange is comedy, red is action, pink is romance, and blue is tragedy." Danny listed. "That one with the pink is one of my favorites. I meddled a bit in that world. Two people who had never met fell in love at two points at different times. One of them was doomed to die but I worked my magic on a mirror that allowed them to meet once. They shared notes left in different places for the other months ahead. Makes you believe in true love. A real tear-jerker."
"What about the black stickers?" Wally asked.
"Don't touch the black ones," Danny said darkly, smacking his hand away. "You don't need to know about those. I don't like thinking about them."
"So you just take the memories of others and put them inside your machine to replay later?" Batgirl asked. "Isn't that kind of wrong?"
"No, I asked permission. I usually pull them aside at some point and ask. If it's my memories (that's the green stickers) I don't need to. The rainbow ones are simulations. Like a video games." Danny responded patting her on the back for not being to hard on him about this admittedly weird situation.
"So what's the black one with the rainbow sticker?" Wally asked picking up the case that was obviously stuffed in the back.
"STOP TOUCHING THOSE!" Danny yelled pulling him away.
#dc x dp#dpxdc#dc x dp prompt#dp x dc prompt#danny fenton#danny phantom#young justice#batgirl#superboy#wonder girl#red robin#dc robin#tim drake#dc impulse#wally west
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thinking about slow saturdays. edging my girl all day—fleeting looks and lingering touches. in the morning, touching you gently over your panties while we're tangled up in bed, waiting till your hips are rolling and you're whimpering before stopping.
later during lunch, keeping my hand high up on your thigh, thumb stroking slowly, so close, yet nowhere near where you want me to be. you like that, baby?
in the afternoon, we're on the couch, a movie playing on the tv, but neither one of us is really paying attention because i've got two fingers thrusting slowly in your cunt and my other hand pinching and tugging at your nipples. you're soft little moans become more and more desperate as i bring you close to the edge. and right before you're about to come, i stop. that's my girl. just one more. can you hold on for me?
we're cooking dinner together, i'm stealing kisses, hands trailing over your stomach, waist, and hips. you giggle and tell me i'm distracting you, and i laugh because this is nowhere near distracting.
during dinner, i can see you squirm in your chair when i nudge my foot against your leg. i raise a brow and you flush. you're so easy to fluster, sweetheart. i adore how pink your cheeks are and how shy you get.
cleaning up is simple. you wash and i dry, but today i can't help but stop, stepping up close behind you, pressing you against the counter and sneaking a hand down your panties again. your slick has already leaked all over your thighs and my fingers glide frictionlessly.
i'm touching and tasting, licking and leaving kisses all over your neck. you're so pretty, baby. i love seeing you like this. thank you for being so good for me. my hands are everywhere and i can't stop touching. soon enough, you've given up on the dishes and we're now facing each other.
fingers or mouth, baby? you're voice is breathy and high when you tell me you want both. greedy girl. but you've been so good for me, so i'll give you everything—i'll make sure you can't stand by the time i finish with you.
i get on my knees and i pull down your pants, panties coming off too. there's a string of slick that sticks to your panties and i groan at the sight of it. good god, you're dripping and making a mess everywhere. let me clean you up.
you taste so good. you're thrusting and gasping, fingers threaded in my hair. i have my hands wrapped around your thighs, keeping you up as your thighs start to shake and your slickness continues to drip. the sound is obscene, the steady squelch of my tongue in your cunt, my lips sucking your clit.
you beg for my fingers and i oblige, immediately giving you two. you're getting close—i can tell. your breaths come out strangled and your eyes are bleary and unfocused. can you wait, baby? hold on for just a little longer for me? you're so close to crying, i can see the tears clinging to your eyelashes and can hear the way your voice cracks. you tell me you can—that you wanna be good for me.
i add another finger—you whine, high and desperate—and i lick your folds gently. so perfect, so good. that's it. finally, when i know you've reached your limit, i curl my fingers and suck your clit. come for me, baby. you've been so good for me.
#lesbian#sapphic#wlw#lesbian nsft#sapphic nsft#wlw nsft#men and minors dni#nighttimenothings#NNlongnights
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Masked Up (18+)
Summary: A request for a particular Halloween costume turns into so much more
Pairing: Joe Burrow x gf!reader
Warning: smut, language, oral, ghostface!Joe, masked man, dom!Joe x sub!reader, light choking, praise, light degradation
Note: Hi! Wow, I got this out way faster than I was expecting to. This is my first smutty Joe fic that I've written and I hope you all like it. With that being said, this fic is 18+. NSWF, MDNI, all of the things, etc. I tried my best and I hope you all enjoy it right in time for Halloween!
p.s thank you to the anon for suggesting ghostface!joe
Word Count: 3k
Check out my Masterlist here!
It was a cozy fall evening at home for Joe and I, a rarity during the season. We were both snuggled up on the couch, I was lying between Joe’s legs with my back to his chest and a blanket draped over us both. To get into the spirit with Halloween around the corner, Joe decided it would be a good idea to watch a scary movie. The first one he found was Scream.
While the movie played in the background, Joe and I talked about the upcoming Halloween get together we were planning with some of our friends. It was going to be our first Halloween together and I wanted to do something special for it. Joe, being more introverted and as costume-opposed as he was, agreed because ‘it would make me happy’.
“You could always do something simple like one of those masks or something” feeling myself get excited as I said the idea out loud. That had been one of my newly discovered kinks, never trying it myself before, but finding something about it to be extremely hot. Knowing it would be Joe underneath the mask, letting him do what pleased to me under a façade. I hadn’t said anything to Joe yet, not that I feel like he would necessarily judge me for it, but it wasn’t the most traditional kink out there.
“You mean like that ghost one or something?” Joe questioned, oblivious to how his words were affecting me. I squeezed me thighs closer together at the thought of Joe masked up and fucking me senseless.
I must’ve been lost in my thoughts longer than I thought, Joe nudging my back from behind waiting on a response.
“Sorry, what did you say?” I questioned, voice slightly labored.
“I asked if you wanted me to wear a Ghostface mask for the party. I’m not big on costumes, but I could make something work with that” Joe stated, feeling content with the idea.
I could feel my cheeks heating up at the thought, mumbling something into the blanket. Joe looked at me confused, pulling the blanket down to see my rosy cheeks.
“What’d you say babe, I can’t hear you when you’re mumbling” he looked at me, eyes soft and waiting for an answer.
It was now or never, the worst that could happen would be him saying no.
“I feel like you would look hot dressed up as Ghostface” I spoke quickly, darting back under the blanket to hide my embarrassment for, what I felt like, would be the inevitable judgement I’d get for the confession.
“Hey, hey why are you hiding on me? There’s no need to get all shy on me now” Joe said with a light chuckle, pulling the blanket back from my face yet again. Flushed cheeks and shallow breathing an obvious indicator of the thoughts on my mind. It was a miracle Joe hadn’t pointed that out yet.
“I think I could make that work for you, I could make a pretty hot Ghostface huh” Joe said, pulling me back against him and turning his attention back to the tv. I felt my desire growing, images of Joe in the mask flooding my thoughts for the remainder of the evening. I couldn’t wait for the party.
The next day
I had just gotten home from work, excited to get out of my work clothes and ready to change from my skirt and sweater to one of joe’s hoodies and sweatpants. I was able to get out early which was a rarity and figured I would help Joe do some more of the decorating for the party. He had the time available and offered to do what he could, but I didn’t expect him to do everything when it was my idea to host. I slid my key into the door, unlocking it and shutting it gently behind me.
When I was met with silence, I called out to Joe, letting him know of my early arrival, just to be further met with silence. I slid off my jacket and took off my shoes by the door walking further into the house, looking to see if he was in the kitchen. I noticed that he had started to put up some of the decorations for the party, but I also noticed something else on the edge of the kitchen island. There was a bloody handprint made out of red paint. I continued further into the house, finding more handprints as I went, but not Joe. When I finally made it to the bedroom after finding the last handprint, I was met with an empty room.
“Joe?” I lightly called out, questioning where else he could possibly be.
‘I wonder where he went’, I said to myself in my head, noting that his car was in the garage when I pulled in. As I was about to turn around to leave the room, I felt a firm hand slither around my waist, the other coming up to cover my mouth. I was first met with a feeling of fear in the pit of my stomach, but that soon diminished to desire, knowing it was Joe behind me. I could feel his muscles as he pulled my closer to him, making it harder for me to escape.
His hand slid down from my mouth to my throat, grasping me to pull me towards his mouth as he leaned to my ear. His voice came through muffled, telling me that he must’ve listened intently to our conversation the night before. I turned my head the best I could and noticed that there was a mask over his face.
Joe turned me to face him, my breath hitching in my throat as I was met with a Ghostface mask and a shirtless Joe, his muscles on full display. Joe pushed me up against the wall, caging me in with his body, leaning his masked face down by my ear.
He whispered, “looks like it’s my turn to play”.
It was so sudden; I was swept up into his arms and tossed back on the bed. It was quite a sight to behold, my Greek god of a boyfriend shirtless, masked up, and ready to do what he pleased with me. I could feel the familiar burn in my stomach begin to grow and the mess of thoughts going on in my head of the endless possibilities.
I scooted back as far as I could go towards the headboard before Joe gripped one of my ankles, dragging me back towards him and lifting up my skirt in the process. He began to climb up onto the bed, his presence filling the entire room. I laid there before him, feeling defenseless and excited for what was to come.
“Take your sweater off for me. Now” Joe demanded, and without a second thought I did.
“Is this what you wanted, sweetheart? Is this living up to your fantasy that you had in your head?” Joe asked his voice dripping with desire as I struggled to form coherent thoughts.
I quickly nodded my head, a grumbled yes being the only thing I could come up with. A gasp escaped my lips as he slid his hands down my bare thighs, forcing my knees to bend, hiking my skirt higher up my legs, as I laid back on the bed. Joe growled with approval of my evident desire laid out before him, trailing his fingers over my clothed pussy. He was looking at me as if I was an entire meal ready to be devoured.
“if I knew this would get you this wet sweetheart, I would’ve done this sooner. You’ve been holding out on me huh” Joe joked as he continued to tease me.
I could feel my patience wearing thinner the longer he held out on me continuing to tease my clothed center.
“Please Joe “I begged, the need to feel his hands on me properly growing with each passing second.
“Look at you, I’ve barely even touched you and you’re already soaked for me. Can barely even form a sentence, you’re so needy. What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours hm? Are you thinking about how badly you want me to touch you, fuck you with my fingers while I’m wearing this mask” Joe continued, finally sliding my panties down my legs, the cool air hitting my pussy causing me to shiver.
Before I could give him a proper answer, he thrust his two middle fingers into me, pressing in all of the right places with the right speed and pressure. The best response I could come up with was a moan as my back arched up off of the mattress.
“Look at my girl, already a mess from just my fingers. Think you can cum just from my fingers for me?” Joe questioned, voice low and gravely.
At this rate with how he’s been with me, it felt like a genuine possibility. With Joe’s other hand, he moved my bra up off of my tits to gain access, immediately pinching one of my hard nipples. I felt the familiar knot begin to tighten, ready to snap at any moment.
“Cum for me sweet girl, I know you can” Joe mused as his paced quicken and began to touch my clit with his thumb. That caused the snap, becoming a moaning mess beneath him. It took me a good minute to regain my composure and come back down from my high.
I looked up at him from the bed, reigniting my desire to have him again.
“I want your pretty mouth on my cock baby before I absolutely ruin you. The only thing you’ll know how to say is my name” Joe __, his erection evident in his sweats.
A new wave of desire washed over me, eagerly getting down on my knees, wanting to obey him. I placed a delicate kiss over his clothed crotch, my fingers toying with the waistband of his black sweatpants while I looked up at him innocently.
“I’m not in the mood for games right now, baby girl you don’t want to test me” Joe groaned firmly, not wanting to test him any further.
“Yes sir” I said, eliciting a deep moan from above at my word choice, before pulling down his sweatpants and boxers all in one swift motion. His hard cock came free, causing my mouth to water at the sight of it. I gave his head a kiss before licking a stripe from the base to the tip, taking him into my mouth as far as I could go.
I created a steady rhythm, taking in what I could and using my hand for what I couldn’t. I felt my hair being pulled into a makeshift ponytail.
“I want to fuck your mouth so bad right now” Joe said, voice filled with lust.
I nodded, letting him take control as I felt my eyes begin to water from his thrusts, though he was still careful to not go too deep.
“God I love how your mouth feels on me, but nothing will ever beat your pussy” Joe said pulling me up from the floor and back to the bed.
He lined himself up at my entrance and pushed in slowly, giving me a moment to adjust to his size. At my nod to continue, his pace picked up quickly, thrusting into me at a punishing rate. My hands reached around to his back, my nails digging in to ground myself somehow. This caused Joe to groan and throw his head back with pleasure.
“Think I didn’t notice how you reacted last night when we were talking about the mask? I could feel you getting flustered thinking about me just like this” Joe said, voice rough from exhaustion.
His comment caused my head to spin, bringing out my own groan at his confession. I felt him adjust slightly, allowing a hand to grip onto my throat, squeezing slightly.
“That’s my girl, love my hand on your throat while I fuck you masked up” Joe said his pace faltering slightly, signaling that he was getting close too.
“Joe I-I’m so close” I whined, voice breaking from the pleasure I was feeling.
“Me too baby, cum around my cock for me yeah? I know you can do it” Joe praised, luring me closer to the edge.
With a few more hard thrusts, I felt myself all over the edge, screaming out Joe’s name without a care for who heard. I felt Joe finish shortly after, his body falling on me from sheer exhaustion.
We laid like that for a little, before Joe lifted his head, taking the mask off and meeting my eyes with his blue ones.
“Hi” I said, voice small after the acts that had just ensued. My shyness returning
“Hey” Joe replied, placing a soft kiss to my lift.
He got up, pulling out of me, eliciting a groan at the loss of contact with him. He walked off to the bathroom, returning with a warm washcloth to clean me up. He left scattered tender kisses as he cleaned my skin, cleaning himself in the process and getting back in bed with me. He pulled me into his chest and placed a kiss on top of my head, letting myself fall into his warmth.
I spoke up, breaking the silence, “I think that was one of the kinkiest things we’ve ever done” following my statement with a breathy laugh.
Joe chuckled in agreeance, “you’ve been holding out on me apparently. Are there any other secret kinks I should know about?”
I blushed, tucking my head into his embrace further. “Maybe that’s something we can explore together”.
“I’m definitely down for that”.
Thank you so much for reading, please send in any requests or comments. I hope you enjoyed!
#joe burrow#cincinnati bengals#joe burrow x reader#joe burrow imagine#nfl imagine#joe burrow smut#joe burrow fanfic#joe burrow masked#joe burrow halloween
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💫Xavier, Xavier, Xavier...💫
♡︎synopsis: Xavier shows you what happens when you push your luck.
♡︎pairing: Xavier x fem!reader
。°⚠︎°。MINORS DNI (18+ ONLY)。°⚠︎°。
♡︎cw: established relationship, edging, orgasm denial, oral sex (both male and female receiving), fingering, creampie, pet names
♡︎word count: 2.1k
♡︎a/n: Okay, it starts when MC falls onto the sofa and Xavier asks 'what's your answer'. Although I love how MC reassures him after, I changed some stuff between that moment and the doorbell, to set the tone for the rest of the fic 🤭.
♡︎ special thanks to my beta reader ♡︎@its-de♡︎ for reading and helping me with this!
divider by @cafekitsune
The back of your knees hit the sofa making you plop down onto the couch.
Xavier cages you in with his legs on either side of yours, his hands resting on the back and armrest. "So, what's your answer?"
You grin in amusement. He's so cute (and hot) when he gets jealous. You squish his pillowy cheeks "Are you jealous?"
He averts his gaze, pouting. "No."
You can't deny how attractive he looked just now as he basically cornered you onto the couch with the raised eyebrow, the intense gaze as he towered over you.
You did get a feeling that you may have talked about Lumiere too much, and this merch unpacking didn't help. Still, you want to tease him more. Because he's being ridiculous and he should know that all of you belongs to him - Xavier.
You check the time on the digital watch in the distance. You should have around four, five minutes. Biting back a mischievous grin, you look up at him with innocent eyes as your hands wander from his cheeks, down over his torso to slowly stroke the front of his pants. "I've been talking about Lumiere too much, have I?"
His breath hitches as he watches you unbutton his pants.
"Let me make it up to you." You free his already hard dick. You always make him worked up so easily. Your tongue slides from the base towards the tip, your mouth giving the cockhead attention while your hand strokes the rest of his length.
Xavier's hand rests on your head, and he's resisting the urge to buck his hips, to feel more of your delicious mouth.
He pants "You still haven't -"
The doorbell rings.
He completely forgot about the delivery that was on the way.
You take the chance of momentarily distraction and pull away. "We can't keep the delivery guy waiting."
Disbelief written all over his face, he grabs you by the chin. "Nope. I still haven't heard the answer I want."
You swat away his hand and you squeeze through between him and the couch, rushing towards the door. You chime over your shoulder "I'm the injured one here, Lumi - I mean, Xavier!" And you can't help a sly smile that creeps up on your lips when you're away from his eyesight.
Xavier heard that nice and clear as he zipped up his pants. You're so paying for that later.
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.
The rest of the days of your recovery are the same - uneventful. You had the checkup, leveled up in the game, watched more movies and TV shows, ate those healthy porridges and Xavier's questionable smoothies. The new Lumiere merch and your occasional teasing of Xavier made this mundane routine more exciting. You had the ‘girlfriend in recovery’ immunity, so you made good use of it. You would either "accidentally" refer to him as Lumiere, or you'd keep suggesting to him to wear the costume once you're fully recovered.
You adored seeing his pouts, and you couldn't help but feel excited when he's jealous, especially when you remember that one night in the club bathroom*.
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.
Couple of days pass since your full recovery and return to work. Both you and Xavier were too busy while getting back on track with everything, but tonight you finally have time for each other.
Finally.
You're aching for his touch. He didn't want to do anything while he was your caregiver, even though you insisted that you're fine. You did tease him that time when he was wearing the Lumiere costume, but he didn't mention it later and neither did you.
As much as you complained about that "mundane routine", you missed it now that your schedule is hectic again, so you decided to invite Xavier for a movie night. You're going to watch an old movie "The Mask of Zorro" and eat dinner that already arrived. You change into pajama shorts and your favorite Xavier's hoodie that you stole.
A few minutes later the doorbell rings, so you answer it - and you almost squeal in excitement when you see Xavier in Lumiere outfit at your doorstep.
He decided to wear this since you already bought it for him, and because he did feel silly for feeling jealous of his own persona. Seeing your enthusiasm makes him amused and glad that he indulged you.
And he ignores the jealous feeling creeping up in his chest again.
He steps in and greets you by taking your hand a planting a soft kiss on top of it. Then he pulls you by the waist and gives your lips a gentle peck.
You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him into a deeper kiss. You pull away with a smile, your finger dangling the ear cuff "Let's go to the bedroom."
"I thought you invited me for dinner?"
"That can wait."
Xavier chuckles and lifts you up princess style and walks towards the bedroom, as you kiss and lick his sensitive neck.
When he softly places you on the bed, you immediately sit up to the edge, his crotch right in front of you. You sweetly look up at him as your hand strokes over his clothed member “I think I owe you something, Lumiere.”
Lumie- Xavier’s jaw clenches. He takes a deep breath and his gloved hand catches you wrist. “Lumiere, huh?”
That sly grin threatens to tug at your lips. Oh, this is going to be good. You give him your best innocent pout and angelic doe eyes, acting oblivious.
Letting go of your wrist, he takes off your hoodie, revealing you’re wearing nothing underneath, your breasts bare and already nipples perked up. He kneels in front of you, one gloved hand groping one while his mouth gives attention to the other one, gently kissing and sucking sensitive the nipple. Shortly after, you lie down, resting on your elbows, as he takes off your shorts and panties together.
With his teeth, he removes a glove from one hand and offers you his two middle fingers which you take into your mouth, sucking on them, tongue swirling, generously coating them. Breaking the string of saliva between your lips and his digits, with feather-like touch, he grazes between your lower lips, his eyes hungrily eyeing your pussy that is already glistening with arousal.
You swallow an impatient moan, but you subtly wiggle your hips, urging him to press harder.
"So impatient." He chuckles and stills your hips with his other hand, the leather glove providing a new and exciting sensation. You jolt as his fingers suddenly press your clit, rubbing it in painfully slow motion, but you can't move your hips to stimulate yourself more, your small whines showing your frustration.
"What is it, princess?" Xavier innocently asks. "Don't you like it when I’m gentle?"
A sigh leaves your lips. "I do... Lumiere. You're so gentle and sweet." As much as you want to beg for him to touch you more, take you right now, you want to provoke him even more.
So he continues with the teasing - grazing your clit, going around your dripping entrance for a few more minutes before finally slipping one finger inside, a moan slipping from your lips, making his hard cock twitch. He slips it in and out a few times before the second finger joins. The front of his pants is becoming unbearably tight as he listens to your beautiful moans when his finger curl hitting that sweet spot inside you, his mouth salivating at the sight of your wet pussy being finger fucked by him, so he latches his lips onto your bundle of nerves.
Your eyes roll back as he does so, your hand finding purchase in his fluffy hair, but you still can't move your hips as he is firmly holding you, his hand pressing your lower belly. He got you so worked up with all the teasing that you're starting to feel the heat pooling in your pussy, your leg muscles twitching as you try to meet the thrusts of his fingers.
You only manage to whisper Lumi-, before suddenly both his fingers and lips pull away, a frustrated whine leaving your lips as you were so close to cumming.
Xavier gives you a self-satisfied smirk "I'm just taking it nice and slow with my princess." and then he pushes you further onto the bed and flips you over on your stomach, propping your ass up. He silently sighs in relief behind you as he unzips and frees his throbbing cock.
You arch your back as you feel the cockhead swiping between your folds, and just when you're about to move, that gloved hand stops you by your lower back. You bite the pillow in annoyance and let him take his sweet time, the tip teasingly slipping in and out.
He bends your leg, spreading you out more for him, and lies down on top of you, his clothed body putting oppressing weight on top of your completely naked form. His hot breath tickles your ear and the gloved hand wraps around your neck, making you look up at him "Were you gonna say something, bunny?"
Your pussy flutters around his tip, and you open your mouth to beg him to just fuck you, to let you cum, but you stay silent and swallow thickly, and you only shake your head.
He hums in amusement and lets go of your neck to prop his weight on his hands as he starts moving his hips. With shallow thrusts he slowly eases himself inside you, he lets out a choked groan as your walls clench around him when he bottoms out.
You mewl into the pillow as his hips roll at a languid pace, and you flinch when his fingers find your clit, pinching it and rubbing small circles. You can move your hips now, but he's set on being "gentle" and all you can do is whine and moan underneath him as his slow strokes make you cream around his cock, the delayed orgasm flaring up again.
(Un)fortunately for you, Xavier knows your body too well, and just as you thought you could cum without a warning, he completely pulls out and his hand leaves your tender bud.
You groan into the pillow "Xavier!"
"Oh?" his voice is clear and composed, but you don't see him shutting his eyes as he's squeezing his tip with his hand. In a few seconds he calms down and leans over you, whispering in your ear "I thought you wanted Lumiere... "
You were so desperate to cum you didn't notice that you dropped your sweet innocent act.
He flips you on your back, pushing your legs up by the back of your knees, with his heavy cock just resting between your swollen folds.
He swats away your hand when you reach down to put it back inside, but presses his thumb on your needy clit, making you squirm at the contact.
“Please…” You pant.
“Hm?” He cocks an eyebrow “Who are you talking to, my little bunny?”
You whimper as your bud is neglected yet again “Xavier… Just fuck m- !” You don’t finish the sentence and Xavier completely buries his dick inside, then pulling back almost completely before shoving it back inside, and you cry out in pleasure as his cock pounds into you with the vigorous pace that you desperately needed.
The heat rushes through your body, head dizzy, but you muster enough strength to sit up and grab Xavier by the back of his neck, slipping off the ear cuff, wrapping your arms and legs around him, needing to feel his whole weight on top of you as he mercilessly pounds into you.
His hips falter for a moment, but he continues at the same pace - angling his hips to keep hitting your sensitive spot while his pelvis slaps against your swollen pearl. His arms wrap around your torso and he pulls you into a sloppy, wet kiss.
Right before the waves of your orgasm overtake you pant Xavier, Xavier, Xavier against his lips, and with your pulsing walls around his girth, he thrusts deep inside, filling up your pussy as he moans my love in your ear.
The two of you lie there, wrapped into each other’s arms, your face nuzzled into the crook of his neck, hips still moving to help the other come down from their high.
When he pulls out, you notice your mixed fluids all over his white pants. “I think those pants are ruined.” You comment and then your eyes squint at him “Was that your plan all along?”
He avoids your gaze, impish smile on his lips. “Maybe.”
#love and deepspace#xavier x reader#xavier smut#xavier love and deepspace#love and deepspace xavier#love and deepspace smut#lads x reader#lads xavier#lads smut
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Billy Butcher x you oneshot!
Billy knows how to really take care of you when you need it most…
18+ only smut, piv, cock warming, creampie
Merry Christmas! 😘
~*~*~
It was getting late. Butcher was watching a movie on the couch, but you were sitting at the table, finishing up some work.
When you were finally done, you gave a huge sigh of relief and checked your email one last time.
"Fuck," you groaned as you opened the 5th message from your boss that night asking you for a report on one of your projects. Frustration and tension and anxiety surged inside of you like the tide, and for a moment all you could do was sit there and stare at the screen.
Butcher had paused halfway through his movie as he got up to get a drink and seemed to sense what was happening. Honestly, you were stressed a lot these days. Most of the time he wouldn't notice, or at least would just let you be but right now you felt like you were at your tipping point.
"C'mere doll," he said from behind you.
You glanced over your shoulder to tell him you were busy, but the fierce look in his eyes told you he was not going to take no for an answer.
You sighed when you stood up and went over to him but all you were thinking was 'he noticed.'
Butcher slid his hands around your waist, tugging you against him. "You've been workin' too hard."
All of the breath in your lungs seemed to escape in one big whoosh. "It's just how it is this time of year. I just have one more report to work on. And I need to do my laundry. And it's Thursday."
Butcher leaned back, lifting his eyebrow at you.
"Dusting day," you explained meekly.
Billy gave you a look. "I'll do yer laundry with mine and dustin' can wait. What can I do tonight to make ya sit still for a while and let yerself go?"
You leaned forward wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing your cheek against his broad chest. He was right, you felt like you were about to collapse but there was still so much to do...
"Maybe just hold me," you said softly.
"I'd be chuffed, love, but yer mind would still be whirlin' wouldn't it. Need somethin' to distract that pretty head o' yours too."
He rubbed your back for a moment as he thought and a soft, but tired, little sound escaped your throat. He knew you, and he knew it had to be something different to truly get your mind off of your worries right now.
He glanced at the tv where the movie was paused, then back to you. "Up for a little playin', love? I've got an idea."
The look in his eye told you it was something interesting and you couldn't help immediately being intrigued. "Maybe...what would I have to do?"
"Nothin' love. Go and change inta somethin' comfy. Just a shirt, nothin' else, then come back out and sit with me."
"Ok." You gave him a kiss before you retreated into your shared bedroom.
When you came back out he was sitting on the couch and he groaned as soon as he saw you.
"Fuck me," he muttered.
You grinned at him, pleased. You'd changed into one of his shirts, and you'd left it unbuttoned, though it was pulled around you at the moment. It was soft and it barely came to the tops of your thighs.
"Well c'mon," he husked, patting his lap and letting his heated gaze roam over you.
You climbed into his lap kneeling over him and sitting back on his thighs. "If your idea is to fuck me..." you deadpanned.
He smirked wickedly, his hands sliding to your hips. "Nah it ain't that. You know you'd be comin' in minutes, love, then you'd be right back to your troubles again wouldn't ya? Need somethin' to relax yer brain fer a lot longer than that. Besides I need t'finish me film."
Well...he wasn't wrong.
For a moment you met his eyes, gleaming with mischief, and you could feel his cock swelling beneath you...and then you realized what he wanted to do. A surprising pulse of lust surged through your veins and you knew you were immediately wet for him. It wasn't something you'd ever thought of before but now that you did...now that you did you were more than eager to try. That might actually work.
His hazel eyes glinted with desire even as they darkened. "Be a good girl and get me cock out, yeah?"
You swallowed, nodding your head and sliding back off his lap. He gave you a look and you obeyed instantly, working his belt free and opening his jeans. He shifted his hips so you could tug them down just enough to free his cock, already hard and ready for you.
"How do you want me?" you whispered.
"Facin' the telly, yeah? Wouldn't want you to miss the rest o' the film."
You hadn't really seen the first half as you'd been working at the same time, but you had a feeling that didn't matter. And maybe it would help to have something to watch to help distract you from his...distracting.
You stood up and turned around as he slid one big hand around the base of his cock to steady it, and gripped your hip with the other.
"Ready, doll," he murmured low, and you moved to sit on him slowly, his hand positioning you with a tight grip.
When you felt the head of his cock at your entrance, a little moan left your lips but he kept guiding you down without pause.
"Fuck..." you breathed. Without much preparation, the fit was tight and he stretched you almost uncomfortably but you knew your body would adjust.
"Fuckin' hell, love, your gushin'," he groaned. "Must've liked this idea more than I realized."
You wanted to argue but a broken moan was all that left your lips. You took a breath as you took him all way, you ass quickly pressing flush against his thighs. "Oh my god..." you whimpered. Syrupy pleasure flooded through your body, making your clit throb and your cunt flutter around his cock as you thought about him making you stay like this.
Billy gripped your hips hard with both hands and you felt another gush of wetness around his cock. "Easy now. Take a deep breath fer me, love. Yer gonna have to calm down if yer gonna be a good girl and let me keep ya on me cock till I'm done watchin'."
"Oh fuck," you moaned breathily, closing your eyes and biting your lip hard. Breathe.
His hands rubbed soothingly over your hips and outer thighs and you took a slow deep breath and licked your lips, focusing on the tv in front of you. You caught sight of the time bar and you almost groaned at the amount of time that was left, just a little less than an hour. Breathe.
He felt so thick inside of you, the size of him alone lighting up every nerve ending you had. But you had a long way to go so you took another deep breath, and finally your body let go of some of the tension, just a little.
That's my girl," Billy murmured low from behind you. He slid one arm around you and urged you to press back against his chest. "Just rest here for a bit, filled up with me cock, not thinkin' 'bout nothin' else."
Your only answer was another whimper and he gave a low chuckle as he started the movie again.
Your bare legs were draped over his jean clad thighs and you had to be careful not to let his open zipper scrape across your inner thighs or worse. Incentive not to move, you supposed.
You swallowed again, trying hard not to clench around him, but you couldn't help the little flutters of your cunt anytime his cock twitched or he shifted even the tiniest bit.
How he was keeping his own control so easily, you had no idea. Probably had a wank in the shower earlier, you sighed to yourself.
His chest was warm against your back and his big hand was rubbing your thigh. You really tried to watch the movie, but fuck, he was so deep like this. His cock was fiery hot inside of you and you swore you could feel the veins that ran the length of it. You felt every inch of him.
Minutes ticked by slowly, and you did your best for almost 15 of them, but as pleasure continued to pool in your center, and your body adjusted to his size, relaxing and taking him deeper, all you could think about was getting relief. You were dripping and you were sure he could feel it, but still he seemed as relaxed as ever, lazily stroking your thigh as he watched the tv.
Then before you could try to stop yourself, your hips rocked on top of his lap and a soft little cry escaped as bliss erupted inside you, making your whole body tense and buzz, making your fingertips tingle.
Billy rumbled and caught your hips with both hands, gripping hard, holding you still. "No movin', doll."
Your clit throbbed helplessly, completely neglected and you had to bite your lip to keep from whining pathetically, clenching your hands on your thighs.
"Breathe," he murmured, his beard tickling the curve of your neck as he leaned forward. You took a gulp of air, and then another, not even realizing you'd stopped.
Breathe.
Finally, you caught your breath and your lust lowered back to a simmer.
"That's a good girl fer me," Billy said, kneading your hips in reward but all you could do was groan at his praise and it made your cunt flutter around him again.
"Don't say that," you whimpered.
He gave a quiet laugh and patted your leg. "We'll have to keep practicin' this," he said low against the shell of your ear, then went back to watching the movie.
You slumped back against his broad chest again and his arm came around you. Instead of thinking about the way his cock was filling you, you tried to focus on letting your palm play over the little hairs on his forearm. After another 15 minutes, a hazy-sweet fog started to drift over your mind, some combination of dazed and still wildly turned on.
Anytime he moved it sent a jolt of pleasure through you but you were starting to get used to it, learning to let it soften into your body, banking it for later. After a while you couldn't even tell where he ended and you began, he was just a part of you.
At some point you must have completely spaced out, because you suddenly realized the tv was off. Billy was smoothing his hands slowly over your stomach and your thighs and your hips, still thick and big inside of you.
"Did I do it?" you murmured languidly.
Billy leaned closer, kissing the side of your neck, his mustache and his beard scratching sensitive skin spectacularly. "You did it. Such a good girl. My girl..."
You made a lilting, blissful sound and wrapped your fingers around his forearms, desperately needing to hold on to something.
"Think you can come for me now, pet?" His voice was gravelly and rough in your ear.
"Mmmm...mmhmm..." You gripped his arm tighter, unable to get your mind to even form another word. Every single worry was completely gone and you couldn't care less about anything except this right here.
Billy shifted underneath you, pushing his jeans further down his thighs and the movement made him thrust up into you.
You cried out, trembling with need, and he made a low sound to soothe you. "I've got ya, love. I'll take care now..."
It was too much to hold yourself up so you fell back against him and he rumbled approvingly. The vibration in his chest only added to your pleasure.
He pulled the edges of his shirt that you were wearing apart so you were totally exposed and tugged it down so your shoulders were bare but didn't bother taking it all the way off. Then he wrapped his hands around your bare waist and began to thrust up into you. "Fuck," he groaned. "Wasn't gonna last much longer either, love."
One of his big hands slid up to engulf your breast, kneading the weight of it in his palm then pinching your tight nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Your heart stuttered as you gasped for breath, every nerve lighting up. Billy knew how to make your body sing.
Lifting one arm, you curled it around him to thread your fingers through his hair and let your eyes flutter closed, just feeling him.
Every single thrust hit the right spot and made you whimper or moan or cry. Pleasure seemed to only crest higher and higher inside you, no limit in sight.
Within moments, as he had predicted earlier, you were on the brink of orgasm, but you wanted more, needed it. Grabbing at his hand on your waist, you pushed it down, guiding his fingers to where you were joined.
Billy moaned, his lips brushing the nape of your neck. "Mmmm, needy little thing, ain't ya..." he teased, but he deftly nestled two fingertips right over your swollen clit.
The second he started to circle over the throbbing nub your bliss heightened ten-fold...it had been left ignored for too long.
Your cries now were so much that you vaguely wondered if the neighbors would be concerned but there was nothing you could do, and Billy didn't seem to care at all.
His fingers slowed when he sensed you were almost there and he used his free hand to move your knees to the outside of his so he could push your legs farther apart with his own, wide open for him, and stuffed full.
Then his fingertips returned to their fast, slick circles with haste.
The eruption of your climax happened immediately and all you could do was cry out his name. Your entire body tensed in pleasure, wave after wave crashing through you in relentless pulses as he continued to stroke your clit.
The growl Billy let loose against your shoulder in response was earth-shaking. You had never felt an orgasm this intense before and you could tell your thighs and his fingers and his cock were drenched.
"Fuckin' "ell," he groaned. He moved to grip your hips with both hands one last time, the fingers on one hand still slick with you, and he bucked up into you, rough and erratic as his own orgasm began.
Burying his face against the curve of your neck, he bit down, moaning, low and gruff.
Broken whimpers and unintelligible words fell from your lips as every sensation continued to bounce and ping through your body like a pinball machine.
You could feel his come, hot and thick, spurting deep inside you. It felt just as good as everything else this night.
By the end of it you were completely expended, weak in his lap. You wouldn't be able to move even if the apartment caught on fire.
Billy was slumped into the couch now too, but his arms were around you and he was still inside you.
You had no idea how long the two of you lazed there, but eventually Billy regained his strength.
You whimpered as he finally slid out of you then gathered you up in his arms.
Your own strength was long gone and it was not coming back. He carried you into the bathroom and you were too fucked out to even care he stayed. After he cleaned both of you up, he scooped you up again and set you on the bed. He found your favorite, softest long t-shirt to sleep in and tucked you in. In the next minute he was sliding under the blankets too and he hauled you against his chest.
"Alright love?" he murmured.
"Mmmmmm. Mmmhmmmm." You were nestled in his arms, his skin warm beneath you and your face pressed to his shoulder. You wanted to say thank you but you were pretty sure only a mumble of half-formed words came out. His hand rubbed soothingly over your back and you felt him nuzzle the top of your head only seconds before you were out.
You couldn't go to work the next day, much to Butcher's smug amusement.
~*~*~
thank you for reading 🥹 thank you for all the inspiration to write this ❤️
(post tags are not working for this so doing my best to figure out what the issue is, and tagged people instead, I’m so sorry bleh tumblr)
@chocolategiverzombie @kus-babygirl @jynx15 @cassiopeia-grimm @karlurbanism
@weallhaveadestiny @violent-darkness @norman-b @fenyxhawthorn @smallsadjellyfish
@butchersboobs @shirley-girly @bobabilbil @galaxyshifting @angelically-yours
@burntsaltsblog @multifandomqueen199032 @waerwena @rebelled-angel @spikycritter
karl urban masterlist
#billy butcher#karl urban#billy butcher fanfic#billy butcher brainrot go brr#billy butcher fanfiction#billy butcher imagine#billy butcher smut#billy butcher x reader#billy butcher x you#karl urban brainrot go brrr#karl urban fanfic#karl urban fanfiction#karl urban is the man of my fucking dreams#the boys billy butcher#the boys fanfic#the boys#the boys amazon
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im shaking begging on my hands on knees pls if that’s okay and you’re comfortable with it could you cook some tongue sucking and spit play with Leon like absolutely sloppy messy nasty 🤲🤲🤲🤲🤲🤲
it was a mistake telling leon that you'd never been kissed.
you'd been going out with the d.s.o agent for a few weeks now, and last friday night on another one of your dates you let that little not-so-fun fact about you slip. in your defense, you were a bit tipsy, and the buzz of alcohol dulled the points on your decision making skills.
"wait really?" he'd asked after a small laugh. he leaned forward, forearms pressing down on the white table cloth. "never been kissed? not even once?"
"well... one time sorta in third grade. but i don't count that," you amended.
that only made his smile wider. "wow, i thought you were cute before, sweetheart, but this just takes it to another level," he chuckled.
you felt your cheeks starting to burn, realizing that you may have made a mistake in disclosing this part of your past. it wasn't like you were totally innocent or something. you'd just never found someone you felt deserved to experience your lips against theirs.
he didn't continue to mock though. he just shook his head and eyed you over the brim of his glass.
"i'll have to change that then," he said.
that night as he dropped you at your apartment he acted on his words. before letting you leave the proximity of his car, he guided you close and pecked your lips. something soft and sweet. intimate but simple. your first real kiss.
it would be far from the last if he had anything to say about it though.
tonight he came over to your place to spend some time with you before an upcoming mission. the two of you laid on the couch, bodies intertwined. he had you tucked to his chest as a movie played on the tv in the background. his eyes stayed on you though.
his fingers ran down your cheek along the curve of your jaw. you could feel him staring and finally gave in, turning your head to smile at him.
"what?" you said with a small laugh.
"nothing," he replied, "am i not allowed to admire you?"
he leaned in and pressed his lips to your cheekbone. one soft kiss landed on your skin and then another and another until his mouth reached your neck.
you giggled softly and squirmed beside him. he grinned against your throat, not letting up on his affection. his hand squeezed your waist. you felt his tongue slide out and glide across your pulse point before his lips latched on again.
"you know, baby... i've been thinking about kissing you again ever since last friday," he breathed.
"really?" you whispered in return.
"mhm. couldn't get you out of my head. even more than normal," he said, "those lips are just so soft and sweet. one kiss wasn't enough."
he began moving back up, cresting his lips over your chin to below your bottom lip.
"it wasn't enough for me either," you agreed, getting the words out while you still could.
in seconds, his lips landed on yours. this kiss was deeper than the last, more sensual and full of intention. he suckled on your bottom lip, scraping his teeth against the plush skin. his nose bumped yours. you could feel the soft puffs of his breaths on your face.
"of course it wasn't. that was just your first taste. it's only natural you'd want more," he murmured between smooches, "but i'm gonna give it to you. make up for all that time you went without."
his mouth connected with yours in full again, drawing a quiet moan from you. your fingers ran through his blonde tresses. he shuddered at the feeling of your fingers raking over his scalp.
it was weird. kissing him felt effortless and like something you needed to be conscious of at the same time. you melted into his movements and let him guide you, but you also thought about every detail from how much you were responding to the tender sighs slipping from your lips.
your breath hitched when you felt the tip of his tongue drag across the seam of your mouth. you didn't really know what to do, so you just went with your first instinct and parted your lips slightly.
"that's it, honey, let me in," he cooed before sliding the wet muscle into your mouth.
that got a louder sound out of you. he cupped your cheek and worked it in, swirling it with your own. the kisses got messier now. your head spun with the bliss of being so wrapped up in him.
he sucked at your tongue, and your legs squirmed in response. you didn't expect it to feel so nice. it was almost soothing in a way, to have him so intensely focused on you. the hand that wasn't on your cheek squeezed your hip, teasing at his want for more.
when he finally pulled away, a smile broke out on his face.
"look at you," he crooned, "you liked that, didn't you?"
all you could do was nod while staring up at him. your eyes were blown out with lust, your chest heaving with the same emotion.
his thumb came up to your wet bottom lip. the pad of it stroked back and forth, pressing down and opening your mouth a little. so cute.
"messy girl," he purred.
and then, without warning, he gathered some spit at the front of his mouth and parted his lips to let it fall into yours.
your body lit on fire at the sight and sensation. you felt the liquid hit your tongue and slide towards your throat. a soft moan made its way out of you before you lazily swatted at his arm.
"leon!" you whined, sticking out your lip into a pout, "ew."
he laughed at the simple reaction before ducking down to swap more spit with you. he kissed you deep and hard, twirling his tongue through your mouth languidly.
"that'll be the least 'ew' thing i do to you before tonight's over," he teased before sweeping you up in another passionate exchange.
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When Fantasy Becomes Reality
Summary: You're stuck in a stupidly tedious class during your final semester. The upside? The TAs are incredibly attractive. What happens when they catch you writing something very interesting during one of their tutoring sessions?
Warnings: SMUT!!!!!!!!! Reader gets manhandled, size difference, humiliation kink if you squint, fingering, oral (f rec), slight dumbification, dom!YunGi, sub!reader, one (1) spank to the thigh, praise/degredation
Pairing: Yunho x Reader x Mingi
Collab with @mingkismain ! Read her part here (it's a direct sequel)
Your final semester was supposed to be as laid-back as possible. You chose classes that you’d be able to ace with minimal effort. All of your core classes were finished at this point, so you had a bunch of free electives to fill up your last credits. For the most part, you succeeded. You could pass three out of your four classes in your sleep. That fourth class, however, proved to be much more tedious than you anticipated. Your friend insisted you take ‘Philosophy of Science Fiction’ with her. You only agreed because you figured the lectures would consist of watching sci-fi movies or reading sci-fi novels.
You were so incredibly wrong. Well, you were right about the lectures including sci-fi movies, tv shows, and novels. The numerous essays about said media were what killed you. In the 15 weeks of the semester, you had written eight essays. EIGHT. It was fun for the first two or three, but now it was just exhausting. There was only one perk to the course: the two very handsome TAs.
Staring at Jeong Yunho and Song Mingi quickly became your number one pastime during lectures. You often attended their tutoring sessions even with your grades being near the top of the class. Which is what you were doing right now, in fact. They were holding an all-day tutoring session to help your class work on your final essays. You finished your paper on Iron Widow hours ago, but you stayed in the reserved study room and acted like you were adding your final touches. It wasn’t a total lie. You were writing, but it definitely wasn’t classroom appropriate. You were engrossed in perfecting the filthy words on your google doc. So engrossed, that you failed to notice Yunho looking over your shoulder.
“Oh, shit.” You jumped at how close his voice was, whirling around to gape at him. The study room was empty except for you and the two TAs.
“Yunho, it’s not what it looks like, I swear.” He smirked at the flush rising on your cheeks. Before you could attempt to defend yourself further, Yunho snatched your laptop from in front of you. He easily evaded you as you chased him around the table. “Give it back!”
“Mingi, give me a hand.” The other TA snaked his arms around your middle and lifted you off the ground. The height difference left your feet dangling by a few inches.
“Put me down, please! It’s not a big deal,” you pleaded, smacking his forearm repeatedly. You felt his chest vibrate when he laughed.
“Doesn’t seem like it from how hard you’re trying to get your laptop back,” Mingi teased while Yunho scrolled through your story. You wiggled to try and loosen Mingi’s grip on you, but he was definitely stronger.
“Damn, Y/N. You’re into this?” Yunho’s heated gaze fell back on you. He clicked his tongue with a shake of his head. “Dirty girl.” You froze, digging your nails into Mingi’s arm subconsciously.
“Dude, are you going to tell me what she’s been writing or not? I think I've waited long enough.” Shit, what did that mean? You narrowed your eyes at your laptop, willing it to explode on the spot. No such explosions occurred, to your horror.
“Elena rolls her hips against Luca’s thigh, desperate for relief after his relentless teasing. He splays a hand across her lower belly to keep her from moving. ‘Patience, sweetheart. Be good for me or I won’t let you cum at all tonight.’ Elena pouts up at her lover, tears welling–”
“Yunho! Shut up, please, shut the fuck up!” You hid your face in your hands. You yelped when Mingi swatted your thigh.
“It’s rude to interrupt someone when they’re speaking,” you shivered at his breath fanning across your neck as he scolded you. “Keep going, Yunho.”
“Oh, this is a good line: Elena’s thighs tremble against Luca’s hold. She whimpers and tries to push him away, but he uses the hand not inside her to pin her arm to her side. ‘You wanted to cum, love. So now you’re going to cum as many times as I see fit.’ Elena whines as he licks another thick stripe over her clit,” Yunho paused to share a look with Mingi. His eyes looked darker than normal.
“Is that what you want, pretty girl? You want to be pinned down and forced to cum over and over again?” Mingi’s voice was low next to your ear. You swallowed down the whimper that nearly escaped your throat.
“Looks like it. Her character came three times on the dude’s mouth and fingers, then two more times on his cock,” Yunho confirmed in your silence. He skimmed through the next few paragraphs, grinning wickedly.
“Any more interesting scenes?” You truly wished the ground would open up and swallow you whole. You were beyond mortified, especially since they seemed to relish in your humiliation.
“Mmm, a couple lines here and there,” Yunho glanced up at you, tongue poking against his cheek. “She really likes to mix praise and degradation.” He set your laptop on the table, stalking forward to invade your space. You refused to look him in the eye.
“Does she?” The hand not supporting your weight gripped your jaw, forcing you to look at Yunho.
“Some of her most used lines to use are full of it.” Yunho ran his hand up the back of your neck to grip your hair. You couldn’t contain your soft moan this time. “You taste so fucking good, sweetheart. You look so pretty taking my cock. Look at you, such a good little slut for me.”
“I’m- I don’t…” You stumbled over your words, panting from their body heat pressing into you. “Please…”
“Please what, baby?” Yunho teased with an edge of condescension to his voice. His hand trailed up your thigh, fingers brushing under the hem of your skirt.
“Do you want us to stop?” Mingi’s hand released your jaw, only to rest on your neck. “Or do you want us to do all those filthy things to you?” A strangled sound at the back of your throat morphed into a gasp.
“We need an answer. A verbal yes or no, otherwise you’ll get nothing,” Yunho drawled, dragging his hand further up your skirt and pulling your leg to hook over his hip.
“Fuck,” you cursed under your breath. You took a shuddering breath, goosebumps rising under his touch. “I- I want it.”
“Not good enough. What do you want, sweetheart?” Mingi insisted, hand slightly tightening on your neck.
“I want you to do the things I wrote about. God, please do something,” you whined loudly, thankful for the sound dampeners lining the study room walls. Yunho stepped back so Mingi could sit, keeping your back pressed to his chest and holding your legs open over his knees. You’d imagined having Yunho between your thighs, but fuck the real thing was so much better. He shoved your skirt up to bunch around your hips.
“Shit, you’re already so wet and we haven’t even touched you yet,” Yunho smirked and pushed your thighs further apart. “Feel her, Mingi.” The man behind you dropped a hand down to stroke over the wet patch on your panties. Your hips jolted forward as he pressed down on your clit.
“Damn,” Mingi sucked a breath in through his teeth. He lightened the pressure from his fingers, tracing soft circles that offered little relief.
“Y/N, do you know the traffic light system?” Yunho tapped your knee to grab your attention. You nodded, head feeling fuzzy from their teasing. “Tell me.”
“U-um, green means I’m good, an-and to keep going. Yellow, fuck, yellow means slow down or change something. Red is a hard stop,” you stuttered, interrupting yourself with airy whines.
“Good. Once we start, Mingi and I won’t stop until we think you’ve had enough. ‘No’ and ‘stop’ mean nothing, the only word that matters is ‘red’.” Yunho pulled roughly on your skirt, pulling you closer to him. Mingi lifted your hips so Yunho could drag your panties down your legs. You barely registered him pocketing them. He littered your thighs with open-mouthed kisses, avoiding where you really wanted him. Your hips bucked forward to try to get him to go faster.
“Sit still,” Mingi ordered. You yelped at the warning bite left on your inner thigh. You squirmed again, pulling an irritated huff from Mingi. He pinned your hips against his with one arm. You gasped at the feeling of his half-hard cock against your ass.
“What do you think she should get, Mingi?” Yunho didn’t wait for an answer to finally run his tongue over your clit. Your hand shot down to his hair, winding your fingers in the soft strands.
“She’ll take exactly what she wrote, and more.” The hand not holding you still moved under your shirt to cup your tit over your bra. You couldn’t even comprehend what he meant, too lost in the shockwaves of pleasure Yunho’s mouth sent through your core. You cried out when he thrust two fingers into your dripping cunt. You dropped your head onto Mingi’s shoulder, giving him access to suck dark hickeys on your neck and collarbones.
“Fuck, fuck, Yunho please,” you panted heavily, pushing against the arm holding you in place.
“You close already, sweetheart?” Yunho’s voice sent vibrations across your sensitive clit.
“Yes! Please, can I cum?” You whimpered when his fingers curled to drag over the spongy spot you couldn’t reach with your own.
“Ooh, asking permission?” Mingi smirked against your neck. “Good girl, cum for us.” Another harsh suck sent you over the edge, eyes rolling to the back of your head. You clapped a hand over your mouth to muffle your scream. Yunho slowed his fingers, but didn’t stop licking your clit until your thighs trembled. He pulled back, mouth and chin shining with your release.
“It sounded cheesy before, but fuck, you really do taste so fucking good,” he repeated the words you had written just before your laptop was taken. “Look at you, already fucked out before we’ve even fucked you.” He stopped thrusting his fingers, keeping them buried in you to continue curling against your g-spot. You clenched when Mingi circled your clit once before continuing down to prod at your entrance. Your back arched as two of his fingers pushed into you, right next to Yunho’s.
“God, you’re tight. Can’t wait to fuck your pretty pussy,” Mingi groaned, unable to tear his eyes away from where their fingers disappeared in you. The stretch and Mingi’s palm brushing your clit had another orgasm quickly building.
“Who would have guessed? Ms top-of-the-class is secretly a kinky little slut,” Yunho mocked, grinning when your walls clamped down on them. He sat up higher on his knees to leave his own marks on your neck. He bit into the juncture of your neck and shoulder, pulling a pathetic squeak from your throat.
“C-cumming!” Was the only warning they got before you arched in another orgasm, inadvertently grinding down on Mingi’s hard-on. Your skin buzzed and you struggled to catch your breath. They continued to finger-fuck you through your high.
“Too much, too much, please,” you whined, weakly pushing at their wrists. Yunho’s free hand grabbed your jaw to force eye contact.
“What’s your color?”
“...green,” you answered after a beat of silence.
“Thought so.” Yunho crashed his lips into yours, immediately licking into your mouth. You tasted yourself lingering on his tongue. You whimpered at the emptiness left when they removed their fingers. Yunho pulled back, still connected to you by a string of saliva. “Mingi’s turn.” Your back hit the table before you could process his words. Your legs were thrown over Mingi’s shoulders as he dove in to lap at your swollen clit.
“Fuck! I can’t- how many more?” Tears gathered on your lash line. Blinking them away, you stared as Yunho palmed himself through his jeans.
“You get stupid when you cum, don’t you? Can’t even remember the scene that you wrote.” Yunho sat in the chair you occupied moments ago. He tilted his head at you sifting through your syrupy thoughts.
“T-three on your fingers and tongues, two o-on your,” a high-pitched moan cut into your sentence. “Fuck, oh my god. Two on your cocks.” Another rush of arousal shot up your spine when you realized that both of them were going to fuck you.
“Atta girl,” the slight praise went straight to your head. Mingi stole your attention back by blowing cool air over your clit. Your hips jerked, overly sensitive from cumming twice already. He watched your face contort with pleasure, pupils blown wide. Three of his fingers pushed back into your cunt, walls fluttering around him. In the back of your mind, you realized that they were prepping you to take their cocks.
“You’re right, Yunho. She does taste good.” Mingi’s eyes flickered to his friend for a moment before returning his focus to your pussy. “She makes such pretty noises when we stuff her full of our fingers.”
“I bet she’ll sound downright sinful when she’s stuffed full of our dicks.” The way they spoke about you like you weren’t in the room made you dizzy. Your head floated in a cloudy haze. Mingi moved back to your clit, sucking hard.
“Fuck!” Your third orgasm hit like lightning, only lasting a few seconds but leaving you breathless and flushed. You nearly sobbed, pressing the heels of your hands into your eyes. You barely felt it when Mingi stood from his place between your legs. When you finally managed to open your eyes, they loomed over you, eyeing you up with a predatory glint in their eyes.
“Oh, sweetheart, we’re nowhere near done with you."
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#ateez fanfic#ateez smut#jeong yunho x reader#song mingi x reader#yungi x reader#song mingi#jeong yunho#yungi smut#college au#teacher's assistant yungi x student reader#smut#18+ mdni#mdni#fanfiction writer#writing
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"Baby, listen" S.R
spencer smut!! female reader, nipple play (a little), traffic light system (safe word not used), light bondage, daddy kink, Dom Spencer, friends to lovers, aftercare at the end, one mention of sub-space, no y/n!!
idk how long this is, but probably one of the longest fics I've written I would love feedback, if I missed any warnings please lmk!! im literally terrible at these things so please bear with me
Spencer had been your friend at the BAU for a few months now, being the youngest agents you immediately became close. This meant movie nights, coffee dates and occasional library visits together. All of those are platonic of course, he'd never see you any other way.. right? Today had been a long day at the BAU, not a case but hours of paperwork lined up with barely any break. Yeah, it was terrible but everyone was just grateful no one had been in danger.
By the end of the day, you were exhausted, so were the rest of the team. Before you went to leave, you decided to clear your desk. Throwing your empty coffee cup into the trashcan beside your seat, you stopped when footsteps sounded behind you.
"Hi." A low voice. You turned to see Spencer Reid, smiling, his satchel across his body. He had one hand down by his side, a brown paper bag in it.
"Hey Spence! You going home?" You turned to him with a sweet smile, tilting your head.
"Yeah, hopefully not alone.. Uh-" he paused for a second. Lifting the bag, he placed it in your hands, now it was closer to your face you could smell the familiar sweet pastry. He would do this sometimes, stop at the bakery around ten minutes away from the building and pick up something for you.
"Thank you, but who were you hoping to have over?" The usual, act as if you had no idea, mostly to tease him. His lips curved into a small smile, mumbling "You".
You both laughed at his seemingly sheepish response, and you followed him out to his car. After the long drive you both settled down on his couch, and like always, he put on Star Trek. Tucking into the sweet treat he brought you, you offered him a bite before wrapping the blanket over both of you.
While the episode was on, you found your eyes drifting to him, his hands, the way he had been manspreading under the blanket since the show had started. But what your mind was on the most is the new wet feeling in your underwear, the fabric suddenly sticky. 'Please not now' the only thought you had besides how good the man beside you looked right now.
The TV continued playing, and it felt like an hour before he spoke again, you took in none of it before he tried again. "Are you alright darling?"
Holy fuck. Darling?!? You turned to him with a smile, he could tell it was fake, hes not the only profiler here. He never called you that, he'd let a pet name slip sometimes but it was always a joke.
"Yeah, I'm good" as soon as you said it he knew you were lying. Either way, he nodded and turned back to the screen, this time he took more occasional glances at you. You weren't even sure how you had gotten turned on so easily. It was just the sight of him. It was that easy.
Before you could stop yourself, your thighs clenched to try ease the friction, pulling the blanket slightly. Shit. He looked over and caught the movement before you could act as if nothing happened. He knew. He definitely knew and now you couldn't take it back, your brows furrowed.
"Baby-" he tried.
"Listen, this is really embarrassing-" and you cut him off until he started again.
"No no, look at me" his hand met your chin, pulling your gaze to meet his and you could've melted. Your breath hitches, the corner of his mouth curving into a slight smirk, something you'd never seen before.
"Are you feeling alright?" You could only nod, head barely moving but he saw it. The look in his eyes changed, voice seemed lower.
"Do you want this?" It was almost a whisper but it seemed so loud to you, watching his lips move, like only he existed. He waited, his thumb caressing your cheek and you nodded for a second time. Stripping the blanket off his lap, he patted his clothed thigh, inviting you to sit.
Obviously you did. Why would you deny sitting on your hot co-workers lap? When would you ever be in the right mind to decline that offer?! Shuffling over, you swung one leg over his, settling down on his right thigh. Your chests brushed before his hands came to rest lightly on your hips, fingers teasing over the fabric of the skirt you chose for work.
Hands on his shoulders, you met Spencers eyes again and they looked so beautiful. His eyes however, quickly moved to your lips, and soon you came in contact. The kiss was needy, long awaited and you could feel the amount of desperation that came with his movement. One hand on the back of your neck, one on your hip he slowly began guiding you back and forth over his thigh. Lightly pushing up your skirt, the pleasure hit almost immediately.
It was exactly what you were needing earlier that night, you moaned into his mouth, his teeth sinking into your bottom lip. When you pulled back, his eyes looked into yours almost pleading, nimble fingers moving to your blouse.
"Yes, yes take it off!" Nodding, hips still seeking pleasure, jeans rubbing against your covered clit perfectly. With all the movement he struggled with the buttons, you both laughed as you stilled long enough for him to get the first few undone. After three of them, he caught sight of your black lace bra, a sound left him and he tugged, the shirt popping open, buttons flying and hitting various things around his living room.
You gasped, not understanding how it could've been so attractive. Spencer stood up with no warning, your arms wrapped around his neck tightly, his arms holding you up under your thighs, skirt still rolled up over your stomach. His apartment was small, the walk to his bedroom feeling as if it took two seconds.
He let you go when his knees hit the bed, you scrambled back using your hands. This is when he could really see you in all your glory, legs spread, underwear soaked around the middle, face flushed and hair messy, bra still on. 'Can't wait to see that off' his brain called to him. Worry about that later.
"Colour?" He'd asked, but it sparked confusion in you. His eyes softened as he took in the situation, you didn't know what this was. But then the look of recognition came over you, panting out "Green, so green"
Spencer smiled "Good girl. Just tell me if that changes for you."
A nod of confirmation had him moving closer, crawling onto the bed between your thighs. Pulling down the skirt came first, then hooking his fingers under your underwear. When he came into sight of you his breath hitched, mouth opened as if he was about to speak but he never did.
You waited, waited so patiently for something to happen, maybe a reaction from him. As soon as your head tilted back you felt his hot breath over your thigh, then your core. It was almost a battle to keep your hips down on his bed, he noticed this and brought his arm down to keep you still.
He didn't make contact, he had you held down, his face just inches away, mouth almost touching you.
"Spencer" you tried to move, which was funny because before that you were doing so much to stop yourself from moving. It had taken so long for things to get to this point, and now he wasn't doing anything.
Spencer smirked up at you, moving in slowly, lips wrapping around your clit. Hands finding his soft brown curls, you tugged him closer, thighs spreading wider. His tongue soon came into the picture, licking a stripe up your slit, before moving them down to your hole. A moan escaped your lips, before you felt something prodding at you. His middle finger slipped into you and you immediately tightened around the digit, Spencer moved slowly, not wanting to bring you to the edge yet.
He didn't know how fast you would get close, so he alternated between speeds, you pleaded but he wouldn't stay consistent.
That's when it slipped.
"Please daddy!" hips thrashing, but then slowing when the realization kicked in. No fucking way.
"What was that?" Spencer lifted himself, his finger still inside you. Now you were face to face it was so much more embarrassing. When you didn't speak, he pulled out, causing you to whine.
"Say it again." he moved closer to you, crawling over on his knees. Stopping beside you, he slowly began to undo his belt, your arms flew up but he caught your wrists in his hands.
"Absolutely not, you don't get to touch me until you repeat that." again, no room for argument. You wanted to fight back, but that mindset disappeared when he took both your wrists into one of his hands. His free hand moves to his tie, undoing the knot, pulling it from under his collar. Eyes widening, you go to speak, he assesses the fear but also the way your pupils dilate.
Desire.
"You're safe with me alright? We can stop at any time, just say the word." with that, he begins binding both your hands together. When they're all done, he loops the end around the metal of his headboard. "Too tight?" Tugging lightly, with a shake of your head you confirmed they wouldn't slip off. If only you'd just done what he said.
His belt already discarded, he moves off the bed and to the end of it. Using the restraints as leverage, you pull yourself up to watch him. Button of his slacks, then the zipper and they're suddenly on the floor at the end of the bed. The sight of him made your whole body feel warm. Spencer in his boxers... The outline of him, the length, the thickness of his dick. You could swear you would've been drooling if your mouth was open.
"Still good over there, pretty girl?" to him you looked spaced out, clearly not catching the pure awe behind your current blank expression.
"I'm- yeah I'm good." nodding, voice slightly broken, needy, wanting.
"Are you ready?" you hummed back to him, but that's not what he wanted.
"I'll ask you again." his voice slightly more stern, you swallowed hard.
"Are you ready? Use your big girl words this time." That could've sent you spiraling. As you focused on finding your words, he stripped of his shirt. Spencers hands made it to the waistband of his boxers, he looked up for your answer.
"Yes daddy" to which he responded, "There's my girl."
Lifting himself onto the mattress between your legs once again, you waited with bated breath, eyes staring up at him. He took himself into his hand, stroking lightly as he approached you, teasing his tip against your slit. He didn't push in fully, he kept his tip barely in you before pulling down the straps of your bra.
"Daddy-" you pleaded, no shame this time. Shifting your hips upward, he dipped further in but pulled back out of you, leaving a light slap on your outer thigh. He didn't want to hurt you, not without you discussing it before, but the moan you let out earned you a warning of; "Patience."
He went back to his first act, before you'd rudely interrupted with your needy gestures. One hand cupped your left breast, squeezing it in his palm, then his right hand went to pinch your right nipple between his thumb and index finger. You were starting to get uncomfortable, the growing need feeling almost too much.
"Spencer, please fuck me!" it was practically a cry. As long as it got the point across, you didn't care how it sounded, pathetic or not. When he looked down at you, he knew he wouldn't be able to keep this up any longer. He'd been holding back, putting up the front that he could keep himself together around you.
He couldn't. He couldn't wait anymore.
He grabbed the pillow from next to your head, the one he always imagined you sleeping on next to him, shoving it under your hips. He slipped inside of you, you both gasped, his head tipped back. You would've seen this if your eyes hadn't rolled back into your head, the feeling of him finally inside you taking over your whole body.
"Fuck! Fuck- Oh God!" you lifted your legs, pulling them to your chest. He pushed further in, as if you weren't full enough. "So good baby- Shit! Taking me so fucking good." Spencer swearing, something you never thought would turn you on so much, but it did.
"So good daddy- So go-od!" your voice broke as he began to thrust into you. There were atleast three that kept to the same pace, the next ones were uncoordinated. Your hips slapped with a wet sound and you clenched around him, he held your legs up to take some of the responsibility off of you.
You looked absolutely beautiful in his eyes, mascara smudged, eyes gleaming with tears, hands gripping the tie you'd been bound with. The bed rocked, both of you now sure his neighbours hate you, the once quiet neighbour now has a girl practically screaming in his room.
Both of you could care less, infact the only thing in your head was how deep he reached inside you, and in his head, how tight you were clenching around him. His thumb came to rub small circles over your clit, his other hand keeping your legs up so he fit better.
You fought hard not to cum, but you could tell he was close too, twitching inside of you. By this point he could barely look at you, scared the sight of you under him would bring him over the edge of his orgasm. That's when your meek voice called out.
"Daddy, I'm- I'm close" you breathed out, hands tugging at the tie around your wrists, hips bucking up under him. He nodded, you couldn't tell whether it was confirmation to do it or agreeing with you until he spoke. "It's okay, that's- that's okay, you're gonna cum with me. Wait for me." pushing on your lower stomach.
You nodded, trying to speak, trying to say something to let him know you understood before he slammed down harder into you. Spencer watched as your mouth dropped open, drool spilling from the corner of your lips, his hips faltered before moaning out; "Cum for me, cum on my cock"
You did, hard, with a cry of "Daddy!" before you felt him spill inside of you, his eyes screwing shut, mouth dropping to an 'o'. You were so glad you could witness that.
Whining as he pulled out, he soothed you with small "shh" sounds, pulling on the knot of your D.I.Y restraints and slipping his tie off your wrists, arms dropping to the bed almost immediately. Head lolling to the side, you shut your eyes, taking deep breaths as he made his way out and to the bathroom.
Footsteps returned, Spencers soft voice calling out to you. "Baby, we need to get you cleaned up" you were half asleep by now, either way you took in his words. You nodded sleepily and let him wipe up your inner thighs, both your cum mixed together as it dripped out of you. He left the rag by the laundry basket and brought a lotion bottle from the desk in the corner back to the bed with him. He soon urged you to sit up, covers over your lap as he caressed your slightly red wrists, squirting out some lotion onto each one and rubbing it until the soothing cream disappeared.
Spencer suddenly felt guilty, and when your eyes opened slightly to admire him you noticed the regret. "Daddy?" you were still in some kind of sub-space.
"Are you okay?" your voice spoke again, his eyes were now on you, you sounded so small, so vulnerable. He nodded, hand stroking gently through your hair, kissing your forehead, turning to switch the lamp off before you let out a sound of protest. He nodded in understanding and refrained from crowding the room in darkness, you cuddled up into him, settling under the sheets together.
#mgg#spencer reid#criminal minds#dr spencer reid#criminalminds#gublerween#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid scenario#criminal minds smut#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid self insert#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid x you
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Can't Sleep
MDNI, 18+, NSFW
Pairing: Austin Butler x reader
Warnings: lots of dirty talk, m. masturbation, f. masturbation, humping a pillow
Words: 1.6k
Summary: Austin is in Paris promoting Dune part 2 and he can't sleep in his hotel. He calls his girl to chat and things get dirty real fast. Phone sex ensues.
Authors Note: It's been way too long since I've written for Austin. Something about imagining him rubbin' one out just does something to me. So I thought I'd make everyone else suffer too. You're welcome. Comments & reblogs appreciated!
Enjoy!
He tossed the remote to the other side of the bed defeatedly. Flipping through the few channel options on the hotel tv could only entertain him for so long. Looking over at the clock the red number taunted him showing 4am. Being up for the last almost 36 hours would tire out most people but his body wouldn’t let go of consciousness. The jet lag certainly wasn’t helping either. His thoughts flickered to her. Doing the math in his head; she’d only be at 10pm in New York with Paris being six hours ahead. She should be home from work now. Finished with dinner.
He reached for his phone, quickly finding her in his contacts, before pressing it to his ear. The line crackled before it began to ring. His fingers mindlessly played with the string from the waistband of his sweats as he waited for her to pick up.
“Hello?”
Her voice sounded small and distant through the line and he hated it.
“Y/N, hi,” he rasped.
“Hi.”
A bit of rustling sounded on the other end as she sat up from the couch she was more than likely dosing off on.
“You sound tired,” he said, suddenly feeling guilty, “I should let you sleep.”
“No, no it’s fine,” she assured him, “I think I’m more bored than tired.”
He knew she was lying. She’d fallen asleep on that couch so many times when he’s home with her. Never being able to finish a whole movie without hearing her soft snores as she slept.
He was a little jealous if he was being honest with himself. He was never one of those people that could just pass out as soon as they close their eyes. Even more so if it wasn’t his own bed.
“Have you slept at all since you left?”
He sighed, “no.”
“Aus,” she said sympathetically.
He ran a hand over his face.
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
He hummed, “tell me about your day.”
And she did. From her drive to work to how much the phone rang, how her boss had gotten on her nerves, what she got for lunch, how her feet hurt from her new heels she bought the other day, her drive home, how she had to go back out to get chicken for dinner from the grocery store that she forgot to get yesterday. Every detail she rambled on about, but he didn’t mind. It made him feel less alone. Less like he was on the other side of the world.
“Hey, Austin?”
“Hm?”
“I’m gonna set you down for a sec, I gotta pee.”
He chuckled, “m'kay.”
He heard the clank of her setting the phone down, and he pulled his phone away from him for a minute checking the time. 4:30. At least the time was moving a little faster now.
Putting the phone on speaker, he checked a few emails while he waited when his phone chimed, with her name coming across the banner with a new text.
Leave it to her to text the person she’s currently chatting with.
Clicking on the banner, his phone swapped apps to the text.
But it wasn’t a text.
His heart rate rose as his eyes took in the photo.
She was posed in their bathroom mirror with a black lingerie set he’d never seen her in before. Her phone was in one hand snapping the photo while the other had her thumb through the waistband of her panties teasingly tugging them lower down her hip, hardly leaving anything to the imagination. Her breasts were barely contained in the bra, the cups hardly coming up over her nipples, her flesh pushed together creating ample cleavage.
He swallowed thickly as he felt the warmth of blood rush to his groin.
“You still there, Aus?” She asked feigning innocence.
He cleared his throat, “yea- yea.” He took a deep breath. “What are you-?”
He didn’t have a ton of words flying around in his head given the normal amount of blood that was in his brain was now being utilized elsewhere.
She giggled, “you need a little help getting to sleep, yeah? So I thought I’d give ya a little help.”
God, what did he do to deserve such an angel?
“Right now?”
Was this for now or after she hung up? This was new territory for the both of them.
“If you want?”
He felt her back tracking and he scrambled to steer the conversation back to the desired destination.
“Shit, yeah- yeah,” he shifted on the bed propping some pillows to lean back on as he rested his hand over his semi in his pants giving a little squeeze. “Are you- are you touching yourself?”
He heard her inhale before speaking, “should I be?”
“Please,” he almost whispered.
He ground his teeth, waiting for any sound from her. Something to feed his imagination. He lightly ran the back of his fingers over the tent in his pants, keeping his nerves on end.
A small moan sounded into his ear, and he immediately began to work himself with her.
His heart was pounding already, imagining her with her legs open on the couch, her hand working herself over her panties.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he breathed, his fingers slipping under the waistband of his sweats.
She struggled to find her voice. She took a breath, “you.”
“Yeah?” He worked at tugging down his pants. “What about me?”
“Aus,” she chuckled nervously, “I- I- don’t know if I can do this.”
He situated himself, slowly wrapping his hand around his length, giving her a moment. She always got a little shy with talking filthy.
Not willing to let the mood wane, he chose to take the lead. “I gotcha, just keep your hands busy for me.”
He heard her begin shuffling around before getting settled.
He sighed lazily, beginning to stoke himself, lightly squeezing on his upstroke. His thumb swiped the tip collecting the bead of precum, spreading it around.
“’m so hard for you right now,” he murmured huskily, his voice heavy with arousal watching his tip disappear into his fist.
A little whimper escaped her, rewarding his words, and boosting his ego.
Letting his eyes close, his mind began to tease him with images of her. Her smooth skin, her hair splayed out behind her. Was she starting slow and gentle?
A sharp inhale brought him back to the present.
“You alright?”
“Yeah,” she breathed. A soft moan followed, melting through the phone into his ear. “I just had to take everything off.”
He couldn't help but quicken his strokes as the sudden image of her legs spread, and center bare on their couch overtook his thoughts.
“Wanted to get more comfortable.”
“Fuck-, are you wet?”
She hummed, “so wet.”
Hearing her pleasured sounds were going to be his undoing.
“Put a finger in for me,” he coaxed her.
“Oh-“ she sighed heavily, “Austin.”
His cock throbbed, imagining how warm and tight she must feel. Her glistening folds wrapping around her little finger.
“Keep talking, Aus.”
He bit his lip as a smug smile threatened to appear. He had her right where he needed her.
“Don’t forget about my girls up top,” he spoke, “give ‘em a little attention for me.”
A full moan left her lips, making his cock twitch. He could practically feel her breaths on his ear. His mind kept conjuring up one filthy image after another. One hand in her pussy, the other groping her breast. Forcing his hand to pause, he squeezed at the base as the sudden urge to release overwhelmed him.
As he willed his heart to slow and the pleasured throbbing in his cock to weaken, a bunch of commotion sounded on her line. He listened intently as it quieted and a rhythmic sound started to come through. He reached down to massage his balls, swallowing thickly, “baby?”
A short whine came from her, sounding distant, before she shuffled the phone closer to her panting mouth, “are you close?”
He let his head fall back into the pillows with a huffed laugh, letting his fingers lightly play at the little sensitive spot under the head. “Just waiting on you, darling.”
He began stroking in rhythm with the sounds coming from her, his limbs tightening as the pleasure began to burn in his pelvis once more, “tell me what you’re doing.”
“I got a pillow-” she gasped, “-between my legs.”
His hips jerked, the primal urge to thrust breaking through his conscious.
“”You ridin’ it, like you do me?” He panted.
She couldn't even manage to string a sentence together anymore, a groan being her only reply.
“Cum with me baby, in 3-,” he began counting them down, “2-,”
Her whines were high causing goosebumps to cover his flesh, his fist flying impossibly quick over his shaft. He never thought further than her using her hand to pleasure herself, but imagining her grinding herself onto a pillow would be a fantasy he would be coming back to many times in the future, he was sure of it.
“Aus,” she cried, desperate for him to put an end to the agony.
“Cum for me,” he growled; a white heat flooding his pelvis.
A squeak was all he heard from her as she climaxed, and his cock suddenly became impossibly harder as the buzz in his veins shot through his tip. His head pressed deep into the pillows as his body tensed as his climax took hold. White spurted over his abdomen as he grunted like an animal with every lurch his cock gave, draining his seed, relieving his desire.
Relaxing his body, he quickly was left limp as he tried to catch his breath.
Minutes passed as they both regained a normal breathing rate.
He picked up the phone, taking it off of speaker, “thank you, baby.”
It wasn't long after they hung up that he was able to finally fall into a sweet sleep.
Need some more Austin smut? Check out my other works! > Masterlist
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the ballad of money, power, and glory.
(coriolanus snow x reader x lucy gray baird)
summary: being lucy gray's best friend, you were always updated on her life, not knowing how she truly felt for you. and now, with coriolanus snow being your new friend, it was odd seeing them fighting so much over your attention, with you not knowing that both of them were obsessively in love with you.
based on this ask
c.w: lucy gray baird, coriolanus snow, implied aromantic reader, yandere behavior from both of them (nothing too serious), unrequited love, drama, jealousy, love triangle, obsessive love. contains some movie/book accurate mentions but nothing very important, violent content, lucy is mentioned to have been your first kiss, commedy in the end.
chapter one: money.
"god, you gotta see her, snow." lucy beamed, her smile going from ear to ear as she talked about you. "she's so cute! i think she's the love of my life, truly." she said
snow frowned at her words. in the capitol, it wasn't seen in good lights to have someone talking so passionately about other person of the same gender. he rolled his eyes internally, his arms were on the back of his back as he walked behind her. supposedly, you were going to be waiting for them at the train station.
he walked, and walked, and walked. all of those minutes were awfully torturing his soul as he watched lucy gray talk more and more about you- as if she hadn't done it during the entire hunger games already. like on the zoo, when he thought she would be crying from fear of dying when, in reality, she was crying from fear of not seeing you for a last time.
he remembered it perfectly, better than he remembered the biology classes he had. lucy bawling her eyes out silently, still sobbing as she looked at him and explained how much she owed you- how much she loved you. it was like she couldn't think of anything other than you.
"she is always so pretty, so sickeningly beautiful. i can't stand the thought of losing her, snow. i wanna be with her." she said, her eyes red and puffed while her nose was as red as a tomato.
"have you told her about it?" he asked, face leaned on his fist as he observed the singer cry.
"no, snow." she answered, sniffing. "i've made a mistake," she chuckled, wanting to slap herself.
"what did you do?"
'i only noticed i love her now."
remebering that, snow started thinking that you should be the most beautiful girl of district 12- or that maybe you didn't had a single flaw on your skin por something like that. maybe you were one of those who hypnotized people at your surroundings to make them percieve you like the most desired thing they wished for.
but then he saw you from afar, waiting for lucy gray while your eyes roamed through the crowd. he didn't asked for you, no, never. he never asked you to blink like a doll, to look at him with those shining eyes and god, whatever it was that snapped inside you made him obsessed with the thought of having you as his main prize.
his thoughts were interrupted by the sight of lucy gray baird hugging you tightly, kissing your face multiple times as you laughed, hands on her waist as you kissed her face too. he cleared his throat, awkwardly.
"ah, snow. that's my best friend, my soulmate, y/n" she said, and you chuckled before shaking his hand.
"pleasured to meet you, yn. im-"
"coriolanus snow, i know." you said, kissing the back of his hand in a theatrical manner. "hello."
"you know?"
"yeah, my dear lucy told me all about you. and, let's be sincere, you were on the tv during the interviews on the hunger games." you said, smiling while shaking his hand "i'm happy you helped her!" you said
the spark that shone in his heart was fueled furiously by your words. 'your desde lucy'? what's that, a movie?
that was the first time he felt jealousy.
chapter two: power.
lucy gray baird was your best friend since kindergarden. what could you say? sandbox love never dies.
well, her love for you seemed to have grown sharp as a way to protect you and herself from the ones that could hurt you. that's why she glanced at snow menancingly as he forced his place between you both at the bar. when you were dancing with some older group of old ladies, she finally spoke up.
"what are you doing?" she asked, not looking into his eyes, and she didn't needed to for him to know she was angry.
"what do you mean?" he asked, faking innocence.
"don't act innocent, coriolanus." she growled, frowning "she's mine."
"i don't recall asking for that information." he said, smiling at the sight of your happy face dancing with other elders.
"you will not take her away from me." she said, getting up and walking to you only to playfully grab your waist and your hand, dancing with you while coriolanus watched.
you were so dazzling beautiful in his eyes, he just had to have you. it wasn't his fault that lucy gray thought and felt the same way about you.
with that in mind, lucy gray baird punch on his face was unexpected.
"what the fuck, baird?!"
"i told you to leave her alone! you are a fucking peacekeeper, coriolanus! when will you stop that?!"
"'that' what???" he asked, voice loud enough for him to frown at it.
"don't feign dumb, you disgraceful blond. you know she has sensible hearing and you bring her in to fucking SHOT at trees?" she screamed. the singer had the most defiant frown on her face, making it clear just how much she was willing to go for you.
his expression seemed to calm down, his stare on her became confused. "i... i didn't know- she didn't tell me-"
"oh of course you don't know. do you even bother asking?!" she asked, her eyes boring holes into him. "get away from her, snow."
and she left him behind just like that.
of course he wouldn’t know how sensitive you were when it comes to your hearing. he would never get to know you the way she did. but behind that façade, she hated herself for introducing him to you.
at this moment, she hated snow as much as he hated her.
chapter three: glory.
that wasn't on your plans.
you were aware of your friendship with lucy being a bit too... sweet. you didn't care about it. she was still your best friend and you were still the girl who saved her from that ginger girl.
when you met coriolanus snow, you could already see history repeating itself. lucy was jealous and coriolanus was obsessive. this match would end up being your death, probably.
you didn't really liked them the way they wished you did. you were aware of how much coriolanus liked you, from the moment you kissed the back of your hand till now.
and yet, you were still not into the singer nor the victor, you were fine on your own and decided that a long time ago. you wouldn't be a good girlfriend, couldn't even take care of yourself, how would you take care of someone else?
for that motive, and others, that i won't be able to speak about, you never liked anyone. and people started thinking it was lucy gray's fault, with her cunt m constant bragging about being your first kiss. and she was, but you not liking anyone wasn't her fault, you truly just couldn't seem to find someone who was just right to you.
with that being said, you were the one angry at them right now. what the hell that has happened between them, envolved you, and you weren't having it.
"i don't love any of you," you said, for their own shock.
chapter four: the ballad of the unloved ones.
sitting still on front of you, lucy gray baird felt like she was punched on her heart, losing air from her lungs quickly than actually needed. coriolanus, right by her side, felt the urge to throw up as he recieved the unhappy news of how you didn't loved them.
it was the truth, though. but you still held them on each of your arms and let them take in the affirmation of how you felt about them.
"but-" lucy begun, shaking a bit from the anxiety on her chest.
"-no, lu. i'm sorry," you said, "i don't really feel like loving anyone. i never loved anyone, not in this way though." you cooed, giving her the comfort of your kisses on her forehead.
"but maybe, if we j-just-" coriolanus stopped in his tracks when you shook your head negatively, your fingers drawing patterns on his scalp, and he almost meowed at it.
"sorry, dear. i only love you both as friends." you said.
and they understood you after a long talking, a bunch of silent tears and sobs from their delusions.
by the end of the day, they were at the bar, both looking pathetically red from the way they cried after it.
"sorry for punching you on the nose," lucy said, and she looked like a ghost, finger tracing patterns on a cup. "i don't wanna lose her," she goes.
"sorry for shooting the mocking jays on that evening," he said, sipping on his cup. he was refering to the evening where she punch him.
"you did what."
"uh. i shot the mocking jays."
"coruolanus 'm gonna shoot you in the ass." she growled.
they were back to being friends, and made sure to protect you. just because you didn't reciprocated none of their feelings it didn't mean they would start bitchin' about it (even though they did for like, two weeks.)
so, them both heard festus with his friends talking about you- it wasn't nothing good. and which better way to end him than punching him?
yeah, they were still your best friends. you still loved them dearly with each part of your being.
but just as friends.
#young coriolanus snow#coriolanus snow x reader#the hunger games the ballad of songbirds & snakes#young president snow#coriolanus snow fanfiction#coriolanus snow imagine#coriolanus x reader#coriolanus x you#x reader#lucy gray baird#lucy gray x reader#lucy gray my beloved#lucy gray x yn
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SANCTUARY
Summary: After a chaotic day, you head to the pub and bump into Louis, which blossoms into something beautiful. [1.3k]
—
Tonight, you find yourself at the local pub, seeking solace in your usual escape. As you sip your vodka and Coke, the familiar rhythm of the low music surrounds you, creating a comforting haze that drowns out your racing thoughts.
You swayed gently, letting the world outside fade away, if only for a little while. You'd been inside for hours, drinking and giggling to yourself, realising just how ridiculous your life had become.
"Can't fucking believe this."
After an exhausting eight-hour shift, you were so ready to unwind and enjoy some TV time with your lovely boyfriend, but then everything changed.
Once you got home, you heard squeaking from upstairs, like someone was bouncing on the bed. You didn't bother changing; you stormed up the stairs and burst into your bedroom.
"What the actual fuck?"
There, right in front of you, was one of your best friends getting bent over by your boyfriend—the guy you'd been with for five years, and someone you’d known forever.
"Wait—"
"I don't want to fucking hear it. You better be gone by the time I get back or you'll regret it." You'd said rather calmly, which is undoubtedly scarier than screaming at them.
And now, here you are at the bar, alone.
"Fuck, I need some fresh air." You grabbed your drink and went to sit outside on one of the empty benches. You reached into your back and you swore you had a pack of fags in there.
"For fucksake, could this day get any worse?" You said this right before someone accidentally spilled some of their beer on you.
"Sorry, I'm so sorry!" The woman apologised, but you could tell she was very pissed, so you just waved it off with a smile.
"Guess I'll just sit here and sip my drink," you said to yourself, hoping the night would turn around. You pulled out your phone, thinking about what series of movies you could dive into later to forget all this.
Then, a hand reached out in front of you, offering a cigarette. You looked up, surprised at the man standing before you. You took the cigarette and placed it between your lips as his hand came up to light it for you.
Inhaling deeply, you asked, "How did you know I needed a smoke?"
"I've seen you here a few times, crying, and I've always offered you a smoke." You blushed at his words.
Well, that's embarrassing.
Taking another long, deep inhale of the cigarette, you asked, "Aren't you that singer? What's your name?"
"Louis Tomlinson, and what may your name be, darling?" The pet name sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach. Why did it suddenly feel so warm?
"It's Y/N, but you can call me whatever you like. Isn't it a bit risky just hanging out at the pub with no security?"
"A bit. My fans are respectful, though, so I love seeing them when I'm out. I'm guessing you're not a fan?" he joked, a playful glint in his eye.
"I could be a fan, but I might just be hiding it. You'll never know," you replied with a laugh, feeling the chemistry spark between the two of you.
"Well, I suppose I'll just have to find out then," he chuckled, leaning in a little closer. The warmth between you felt electric, and for a moment, the earlier chaos faded away.
"So, what brings you out here tonight? Besides, you know, the vodka?" He raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by why you would be here all by yourself.
You took another drag from the cigarette, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement. "Honestly, I just needed a break from everything. It's been one of those days, you know?" You smiled, hoping to keep the conversation flowing.
"But now it seems like I've stumbled onto something a bit more interesting."
"Oh? And what might that be?"
"You."
"You're quite bold, you know?"
"I am aware, yes." You giggle as he lights his own cigarette, offering you another since you'd finished yours.
You both sat there for a few minutes, enjoying the comforting silence that you both needed.
"Hey, Lou?"
"Yes, love?" He turned to you, a spark of intrigue in his eyes at the nickname you had given him.
"Would you like to—I don't know—be friends? We could go to my place and watch some TV since it's getting quite chilly out here, and I don't really want to drink anymore."
"Course we can, yeah. Don't want you walking home by yourself either." A smile spread across your face, gratitude shining in your eyes.
"Let's go then." You both finish your cigarettes, and you take his hand, leading the way to your place. It’s closer than Louis expected, but he’s not complaining.
Once inside, you kick off your shoes and drop your bag by the door. You quickly turn on the heating, eager to warm up from the chilly air outside.
"Would you like a drink or something?" you ask as he settles onto the comfortable sofa in the living room.
"Tea, please, love."
"On it." You smile at him as he gets comfortable on the sofa, making himself at home while scrolling through a bunch of different movies.
As you focus on making tea for both of you, your mind drifts, and you momentarily forget about your boyfriend—now ex-boyfriend.
"Y/N?" You spin around, shocked to see him still lingering in your house.
"I told you to get the fuck out."
"Wait—please let me explain!"
"What is there to explain? It was pretty obvious what was happening. I'm just curious about how long this has been going on." He avoids your gaze, mumbling.
"Hmm, what was that?"
"Two years."
"Wow. This all happened under my roof? You're fucking disgusting. Get out. Now."
"You heard her, get the fuck out." Louis spoke.
"Who the fuck are you?" Louis steps closer, wrapping his arm around your waist—a protective gesture that sends a shiver down your spine.
"Your replacement. I'm better than you, and you know it, so fuck off." Louis grinned, a mix of amusement and defiance in his eyes as he watched your ex-boyfriend storm out, slamming the door behind him.
You couldn't help but chuckle at Louis' boldness and the way he handled the situation. "Thanks for that. He really needed to go."
Louis shrugged casually. "No worries, love. No one messes with my friends like that."
You felt a wave of gratitude wash over you, grateful for Louis' unexpected presence and unwavering support. "I owe you one, Lou."
He flashed you a warm smile. "Nah, we're friends now. That's what friends are for, right?"
Right, friends. But did you want to be just friends? Of course not. You didn't know how it happened so quickly, but you knew you had developed some romantic feelings for Louis.
"Lou?" Your voice wavered as you spoke, looking up at him with shy eyes.
"Hm?"
"I think I like you. I know we've only just gotten to know each other, but I like you, and I know you probably don't feel—" He cut off your rambling with a soft kiss on the lips, a smile spreading warmth across your face.
"What were you saying, hmm, love?" You gazed into his eyes, feeling a rush of courage. You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him again, this time slower and deeper, savouring the moment as his hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer.
"I like you too," he whispered against your lips, making you grin and kiss him harder. The world around you faded as you lost yourself in the moment, feeling the warmth of his body and the electric connection between you.
As you pulled away slightly, breathless and smiling, you could see the sincerity in his eyes.
"So, what now?" you asked, a playful glint in your gaze. Louis chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.
"Now, we take it one day at a time, together." With that, he leaned in for another kiss, and in that moment, you realised this was just the start of something truly beautiful. He had become your safe haven, your sanctuary amidst the chaos.
—
This is my first fic on this app because I have no idea how to use it, and it needs more Louis fics. I'm trying to figure out how to make a masterlist and all that, but for now, I'm just going to leave this little thing here. :) P.S. This is my first fic ever, so please don't hate. Thanks! xD
Please send requests! <3
#louis tomlinson fanfic#louis tomlinson x reader#x reader#fem reader#smok3ygoth#one direction#relationship#i don't know how to tag this#louis tomlinson#louis tomlinson fanfiction#louis tomlinson imagine#i love him#omgggg#louis tommo#oneshot#short story#fluff#x y/n#x you#imagine#fandom#fanfic#louis tomlinson fluff#girls who smoke cigarettes#louis
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HER | part five.
✧✎ synopsis: wonwoo, a heartbroken and burnt out writer nearing the end of his math degree, wants nothing to do with the seemingly perfect, intimidating girl who has everyone under her thumb. you. unfortunately, his literary talent has got him shoved him between a rock and a hard place when you want to write a book and require his expertise. you two are the furthest from compatible. wonwoo can’t see this going well. at all.
pairing: wonwoo x fem!reader word count: 23.8k genres/tropes: writer!wonwoo, university!au, plug!vernon + boyfriend!mingyu as prominent side characters, SLOWBURN (i am not fucking around this is my slowest burn yet), relationship drama, soul searching, strong angst/hurt (i’m coming for the jugular), comfort, romance, smut, a smoothie of every emotion on earth.
(!) warnings: drug use (weed, cocaine, ecstasy), wonwoo has anxiety + anxiety attacks + fairly dark thoughts, prescribed medication, gambling, intense language, infidelity, throwing up.
✧✎ a/n: just some quick things i want to make apparent!
the fic is told from wonwoo’s pov, not the reader’s!
all major timeline events are organized through chronological dates
any smut or potentially triggering scenes are NOT MARKED bc the content is already quite mature, so just plz be aware of that!
bolded and italicized text implies the characters are conversing in korean, tho it doesn’t happen often!
the fic in its entirety is 140k, so it has been split into 6 parts.
posting a bit earlier tn since i've got work tmo morning! i can't believe there is only one part left after this one!! :o
last chapter was angst up to the eyeballs so hopefully this one mends some of that heartache <3 still, much has yet to happen! this chapter contains one of my fave scenes teehee.
⇢ part one | part two | part three | part four | part six ⇢ soundtrack for those curious! ⇢ read at ur own pace! :)
—AUGUST 3RD.
The last time Wonwoo had been at your apartment to help you write, it was around the evening, into supper. He remembered the scent from the three-wick candles lit up in the kitchen—bonfire and vanilla—which you insisted was a necessity because it was the perfect way to relax your tense mind. Deciding not to cook, you had ordered Chinese takeout instead, and the entirety of the evening was spent sitting criss-cross on the comfortable rug splayed across the living room floor, indulging in warm food, writing, and letting the TV flick through a random season of your favourite drama show.
It was perfect.
Even now, as he sat on the bench across the street from your apartment complex, Wonwoo could still recall all the infinitesimal details—the fried crunch to every vegetable-filled spring roll, how the candles softly crackled when you blew them out at the end of the night, your small and very sleepy voice bidding him goodbye as you walked Wonwoo downstairs into the lobby—each memory sprung alive with such vividness. Wonwoo wished he could be poised outside your apartment knowing everything was the same; undamaged and intact. But that was an outcome too blissful for reality to maintain.
You had a specific nightly routine, particularly on Thursdays, after work: showering, followed by having a quickly thrown together dinner, applying a face mask, and then a movie before bed. He found himself memorizing a lot of your patterns over the months.
Wonwoo hadn’t texted you—he was doing this completely unprompted, without an inkling of his arrival. Maybe that was a terrible idea which should be discarded for something gentler and less likely to explode in his face, but that would only lead to more ruminating and more ruminating meant less doing.
The thing was, it was nearing eight o’clock. Wonwoo had been sitting on the bench for almost a half hour while the sun gradually sank, watching the occasional green leaf flutter down from the chestnut oaks adorning and shading the parkway behind him. The longer he waited, the further the shadows of the trees stretched, until he was completely engulfed and framed alone underneath their dark, cool silhouettes. Light still spilled across the street, igniting the space where everyone else was strolling, each person steadfast in their pace to be somewhere that wasn’t a sunset orange city street.
Breathing out slowly, Wonwoo glanced down at his hands.
It was like the first time he met you.
Just suck it up. Go do it.
He walked between the trimmed hedges that led to the complex door. The lobby area was exactly as he remembered it, though Wonwoo had come to learn those little complimentary desserts and cucumber waters set out the first day he visited you were no longer a thing, which you had vehemently complained to him about during a brief promenade through the park—another one of your palate cleansing ideas.
“Oh! Those pastries, by the way—they stopped doing them! I heard about it from my neighbour when I went down to get the mail. I was pissed, pissed, pissed! Apparently, there’s a lady who made them specifically for our complex because her grandson lived there. Well, he’s moved out now, so we all got fucked! If I don’t get my cute little lemon square with the raspberry on top and the powdered confectionary sugar all placed in a decorative doily, I will legit kill myself. Something has to be done… hey—can you bake, at all?”
Hence your immeasurable disappointment when Wonwoo revealed to you that he wasn’t notably talented at baking. Still, the incident provoked him to spend at least an hour a night researching different recipes for lemon squares that he could manage to pull off if given enough time and a handful of supplemental trial and error.
Wonwoo pushed the button to the elevator.
The heartbeat heavied in his chest while waiting for the doors to pull apart, the anticipation and nervousness coming down hard like thick snow flurries. A commercial ding at last echoed throughout the vacant lobby. Wonwoo immediately stepped into the small, confined space, feeling his breaths begin to drag, becoming almost audible in his desire for more oxygen.
Without a doubt, this was probably the hardest thing Wonwoo had ever done in his life. Even moving away from the comfortability and closeness of his family in Changwon—no matter their disagreements or quarrels—couldn’t compare to the emotion so palpably tugging within him akin to an ocean tide under a full moon.
He felt every twinge, but he was still doing well to maintain his composure, though Wonwoo couldn’t help himself from fearing that the control might leave him in the cold wind of seeing you again.
To look into your eyes could feel quite dissecting and Wonwoo didn’t know if he was yet strong enough to stomach the scrutinization despite how warranted it was. The best he could do was to expect nothing—this wasn’t about gaining closure, or basking in the liberation from righting a wrong—it was about the effort of accepting a profoundly hurtful problem he caused. You were hit front and centre by the shrapnel and you deserved to hear acknowledgement.
At the moment of reaching your floor, he didn't knock straight away.
Wonwoo stood outside the unit for a moment, removing his glasses and pulling at the sleeve to his large black hoodie, massaging away a smudge from the lens. After fitting the frames back to his face, he knocked. Each breath was fluttery. He tried so damn hard to soothe himself because life was unfortunately not a loop of constant aid and permanent reassurance and sometimes there was no other option but to be discomforted. At least he had his own company.
There was no movement from behind the door.
Swallowing very dryly, Wonwoo knocked again.
Nerves twisted in his stomach and turned his complexion pallid, though it was just on the edge of manageable and Wonwoo would have otherwise been quite proud if not for the lock suddenly clicking and the gentle, slow twisting of the doorknob. His fist clenched, the blunt nail on his index finger picking at his scarred cuticle.
Even when he saw you—Her—for the first time in over a month, accompanying the liminal doorway, staring back at him with an expression that he could use an entire pencil detailing, Wonwoo was able to sustain his control. Still, his heart was fucking racing.
Your eyes were wide, glassy, though somewhat veiled by the dip in your brows that began to gradually furl deeper in their recognition of his presence. He felt his stomach drop faster than lightspeed when a frown twitched into your lips, distorting the surprise in your face to anger, while the fingers at your leg curled into a rigid fist. There was a dewiness to your bare cheeks and a sweetened aroma from your skin that suggested you had gotten out from the shower not too long ago.
Wonwoo relaxed his hands.
“Hey.”
Expectantly, you said nothing.
There was a rolling, emotional sea unabashed to your face, continuously morphing between every shade of wrath within the sticky silence. Wonwoo worried you might slam the door shut.
He needed to say something fast.
“I know what you want to do—you want to close me out. I get that. I can see it all over your body. And, believe me, I understand.”
Your hand grabbed the edge of the door. That initial glassiness in your eyes only grew glimmerier; the frown tacked onto your mouth somehow threaded with even more fulgurant rage. He could see that you were going to snuff him into nothing, like grabbing onto a candle wick with your fingers despite the hot wax and flame.
But it couldn’t end so abruptly.
Wonwoo held up his hands, baring his palms in defense.
“Just—okay. Her, I hurt you. Hurt is even too weak of a word to use. I know that. I promise I do. I know what I did… and… and I know that I must have some fucking gal to come here unannounced after everything I said, but I've got an explanation. I swear.”
There was notable uplift in his chest, watching your grip loosen on the door, fall down to the handle, losing the hostility. Wonwoo paused to catch his breath, ensuring his eyes never wavered.
“And… if you decide to listen to me… and you still really don’t want me in your life… I-I can respect that. If all you want is for me to disappear and never bother you again… I can respect that…” he felt sick just voicing it, like he could faint at the prospect. “It might be such a stupid fucking thing for me to say, considering how I treated you, but I genuinely want to do whatever will make you happiest.”
Was it good enough? Feasible, even marginally?
Wonwoo didn’t know. He could only stand in place and study the metamorphosis of your face—from deep-seeded anger, to something pained and unintelligible, and now, contemplation. The inner monologue in your head was probably running on overdrive.
Your fingernails carved into the door.
He kept quiet, waiting, until you quickly wiped something from your cheek and swallowed the lump in your throat.
“… Fine,” you uttered in a raspy, weak tone.
Relief struck him like a breeze during a heatwave.
“Thank yo—”
“But if I say I want you to leave, then you will leave, and you will not say one word on your way out my door or spare me one glance, even if it’s from the corner of your fucking eye.”
Wonwoo was staring straight into your gaze, then shifting to the pointed finger sticking in his face. You were deadly serious.
He nodded.
Finally, however, you stepped aside to let him in.
Wonwoo didn’t know if he should sit or stand. If he should grab a stool at the marbled kitchen island or come to fit himself at the edge of the cream sofa. The interior was pretty much identical to his previous visit, though he realized that a few potted plants you once kept by the elegant floor-length windows were missing—he’d assumed they’d died—it was probably somehow his fault.
“Um, where should we—where do you want to—”
“Kitchen.”
With your arms folded stiff, you walked behind the island.
He stood on the opposite side, knowing it was likely not a coincidence that you opted to put a barrier between yourselves.
It was a foolish idea and he would certainly not extrapolate, but Wonwoo wanted to ask about you. He wanted to know how your work was going at the beauty salon, if you had any more obnoxious dinner parties with your parents—were you still writing? To even look at you from across the hard countertop, captured in the quiet dimness of your kitchen, with your soft and bare face and those cute silk pyjamas, was enough to stop his heart if he allowed it.
Wonwoo pushed up his glasses, sighing.
“Before I explain anything… I just want to say—”
“I don’t care about that,” you interrupted without hesitation, eyes scalding and sharp, “I know you’re sorry. It’s the least you could feel after everything you said to me. I don’t care.”
“R-Right…” he trailed off, sensing the heat from the overhead lights as though they were shining directly into his face. Wonwoo pulled at the sleeves of his hoodie, gulping, “I guess you want to know—"
“Why. I want to know why you did what you did.”
“Why?” He echoed dumbly.
“Yes, why. Pull out an entire script and apologize—I don’t want that. Acknowledge what you did—good for you. I’m glad you can see how fucked up it was, all while I had to cope with your analysis on why I’m such a god-awful person. People say sorry all the time. I know it can be genuine. I just don’t care. Sorry doesn’t help me understand. Sorry doesn’t take away the weeks I lost, tearing myself apart. Sorry doesn’t mean fucking anything to me if all you’re apologizing for is something I already lived and breathed.”
“No, that—yeah, it makes sense...”
His fingers suddenly gripped the edge of the island, knuckles ivory white. Your intensity was more disorienting than a drug, but Wonwoo knew he needed to stay calm. Breathe. Listen.
“Okay, so?” You shrugged. “Tell me, then.”
“Why I did what I did…” Wonwoo exhaled, staring at his reflection in the marble while his mind twitched into complete blankness. “Well... I-I guess I was feeling… there was a lot I was feeling and... fuck.”
At the last second, he scraped everything he was going to say.
Wonwoo then looked up at you, who was so cold and reluctant.
“You know, um… before I met you, I had a girlfriend. I know I've never mentioned it. But her name was Jeanie. I met her at the university, actually. She worked in the Morrison library—like, the big stone building that looks like a castle, almost. Anyway. I met her because I needed to sign out a textbook for this elective I was taking and she helped me find it… Jeanie. Yeah. I don’t know if you ever saw her or—she was really shy. But I felt like she listened well, no matter what you were saying, or what you were talking about. She would give you her full attention. And… I just remember thinking… I could tell you anything, Jeanie. I could tell you I fucking pushed someone in front of a bus and you would wait and listen and hear me out until the end. She would make you feel… normal… human.
But—the thing is—I’m sort of laughing because I’m saying all this now, but… at the time, even despite my love for her, and how much I trusted her… I just… I kept her out. I didn’t think it was a bad thing. She knew I had anxiety, but never knew how bad. I never told her I stopped taking my pills. I never told her my actual feelings about anything… like, despite having this perfect person in my life, I still couldn’t open up. I didn’t think there was much harm to it, either. It would cause tension. Things would get… uncomfortable… but as long as she was there, I was like—I can get away with this. I don’t need to really discuss anything. She will always be here.
And then… one day… she just… wasn’t… uh—ahem—sorry, just—something in my throat, b-but, uh… yeah. She was gone. All her clothes, all her belongings: toothbrush, makeup, clothes, stuffed toys, notebooks, mugs, house decorations. It was all gone. I remember coming home to an apartment that was stripped bare. Like a skeleton. She took every part of herself from it. And all I could do was dumbly stand there and look at the bones.
Her number was disconnected, too. There was no one I could get a hold of that would tell me anything until I got this weird, vague email from her mom. ‘My daughter won’t be seeing you anymore. She’s safe. No need to worry.’ Those words picked themselves into my brain. I would go to sleep seeing them. I would repeat them in my head all night, and wake up with them still chiming. And I thought to myself, with all the weight in my heart… how could she do this? How could she leave and take everything and erase me without a word? It had to be her and it had to be the world just proving my point: being vulnerable, trusting, expressive—it isn’t worth it.
I really, truly believed it. I mean, I held onto it. I always looked at her as the one with the issue, but—fuck—it was me. I was the fucking issue. I… I must have made her feel so unimportant. I probably confused her, destroyed our trust, fucked up her concept of love. Like… I made her feel so trapped… that she felt the best thing to do was disappear, because there was no other way out… I made her feel that way. Me. It was me the entire time. And… I never really processed that until you were six feet away, screaming at me, cursing me up and down in the same living room I came home to that day, all emptied out. I had it out with you, the way I never had with Jeanie…
And the truth is, Her… I kind of… I always sort of knew I had that problem. I lived without ever wanting to acknowledge it. But I never really… I-I basically… I didn’t care about fixing it until I met you.”
Wonwoo tilted his head and stared at your quivering bottom lip, the shininess to your razor-sharp eyes, the manner in which your fingernails were sinching indents upon the skin of your biceps.
He paused, chuckling.
“I know I already told you… but you used to terrify me. I didn’t think we would ever mesh. Whenever I looked at you, I saw someone who knew herself, and I was so severely the opposite. But miraculously, I guess, you ended up being the person I feel the most comfortable with… when I see someone strong like you unravel, it makes me want to unravel, too. The trust I had for you was infinite.”
From across the island, Wonwoo noted how your eyes momentarily drifted down. A lump was sitting square at the base of your throat and it took a very dense swallow for you to even speak.
“… Had?” You whispered with a sniffle, hugging yourself.
Rolling out his shoulders, Wonwoo frowned.
“It was the party, Her. If you remember us talking in the guest bedroom… I told you that story about my brother and I, about my decision to move from Changwon… you’d nearly grappled Bells down to the ground an hour before. You apologized to me because you thought it ruined my night, but I promised you that it was fine, that I would always be here for you. And then we split ways. And you… you were… well, there’s really no clean way to say it but—”
“I had sex with Mingyu.”
“Uh, well… yeah.”
You shook your head. “He’s my boyfriend, Wonwoo.”
“I know, I know. It makes it sound stupid but—”
“No—wait. You’re pissed at me because I chose to have sex with my boyfriend? Are you—are you hearing yourself?”
“Her, please, listen—”
“I went through all of your bullshit because of that!”
“Can I just—”
“Are you fucking kidding me?!”
“It was because I liked you!”
Wonwoo’s heart was thumping almost audibly against his chest while his veins soared with adrenaline. Your fists were sitting, balled, on the kitchen island, though they began to unfurl as the weight cupping his confession—which was a mild version of what he truly meant to say—hung in the air like the plumes from a wildfire.
“I liked you, a lot," he admitted, watching your eyes slim with confusion, "and I’m sorry if that ruins us even more… but it’s true.”
“Wha—what—no. What do you mean you liked me? You liked me as in what? You liked me in a crushy silly way that’s just for fun, o-or you liked me in a serious way, that’s like, you want to�� you want…”
Your mouth hung open, shoulders hunching.
His teeth gritted. “I thought I could… I wanted to…”
“Please just spit it out.”
“I wanted to be with you. I wanted to be your boyfriend.”
Flares of heat melted slow across his face. Wonwoo could feel his temperature climatically rising. Still, it wasn’t the entire truth. His likeness wasn’t just that—it was a fully blossomed and unshakeable love. Though, he figured it might be too much, too suddenly.
“O-Oh…” you stuttered, “… and, you thought that…”
“Maybe you felt the way I did. Not that I’m going to ask if you did or didn’t. I mean, this was over a month ago. I’ve had lots of time to myself. I’ve been thinking plenty… the point is, I let those feelings affect my clarity and that’s why I felt so hurt. I felt like I was so open and candour just to kinda have it… thrown back in my face. But it just seems like every relationship I have, I sabotage it somehow… I didn’t go about us in the right way—not at all. It blew up into something terrible. I wish every day that I would have handled it differently. But I didn’t. I kept my mouth shut when I should have just talked to you.”
“Oh… god, Wonwoo.”
“I-I don’t know. It was late, and I was high—you were off a line of coke for fuck’s sake—I just—in that moment, didn’t it feel… like we were something? More than friends? Maybe you don’t remember everything. Some of it’s a blur, even to me. Like some fever dream.”
“No… I do remember some of it. I remember the spare bedroom. I remember how fucking comfortable that bed was. You were there… you were… helping me… and we... I know at some point we were lying down together but I don’t remember what I was thinking or everything I said… it’s just—it’s a lot… too much, almost.”
A groan reverberated from within your deepest cavity and he could only watch through the warm kitchen light as you leaned forward into your hands, your body slumped against the countertop and radiating with agony. Wonwoo didn’t know what to make of the spectacle, though he chose to let you swim in whatever sentiment was swallowing you whole, your head beginning to shake back and forth.
“Wonwoo… listen… I get that—I get what you’re saying, okay? I get that you have this fucking problem with vulnerability, and trust, and the—the, um—the self-sabotaging. I know. I have that, too. And I can understand that it was possible to misinterpret us…”
That word was like a decommissioning punch to his gut—misinterpret—as though it was merely wishful, ditzy thinking and it was him and him alone living inside the delusion despite the fact you were snuggling up against him. However, Wonwoo bit his tongue and simply listened. He didn’t need his bruised heart getting in the way.
“But that night was just—it was irresponsible, okay? On both our parts. I have a boyfriend who I very much l-like, and… and we’re just—you and I, I mean—we’re good at being friends. And you said it yourself that you’ve had time to think and get past it, so…”
“… Yeah.”
“Yeah.”
Wonwoo didn’t need his love to be reciprocated nor did he want to know if you actually harboured any feelings toward him back then. All he desired was for you to get what you had plainly wanted—the why. Perhaps it was unsatisfactory, lacklustre, or maybe it was beyond ridiculous and too inconceivable for words.
He was grateful that he’d even made it this far.
With a heavy, laboured sigh, you managed to push yourself from the marbled counter. A hand then propped onto your hip.
Your nails clicked once against the island.
“So… that’s it, huh?” There was a nasally tone to your voice.
Biting his lip, Wonwoo adjusted his glasses, nodding. “Mmhm.”
Your head tilted straight back, like you were attempting to stop a runny trail of tears from escaping down your cheeks. You suckled in a breath, pressed your lips together firmly.
And then, abruptly, you laughed, pinching at your nose while your eyes squeezed shut. It was an exhausted, humourless laugh.
“Fuck… fuck, fuck, fuck.”
He didn’t exactly know what it was you were cursing, whether it be the realization of what the fight actually meant, or a reaction to his timid, but expired, confession. It could be that the information was too daunting and you were left with no instinct of how to manage it. Wonwoo chewed down on his tongue, keeping silent.
When your eyes opened again, they fell toward the fridge.
“Um… wasn’t it your birthday? Back in July?” You asked with a wet sniffle, brushing a wrist underneath your nose.
“Yeah… July seventeenth.”
Not bothering to speak, you walked over to the fridge and pulled the door open, pale light emanating from inside as you rifled around, moving containers and cartons and fresh produce. It was then that you revealed a cardboard box. Returning to the counter, you set the box in the very centre, and with trembling hands, you began unsticking the corners in order to reveal the surprise inside—a decent sized cupcake, frosted high with thick, white icing.
You sniffed again, turning to grab something from a utensil drawer, and then another item or two out the cupboard.
“It’s from Terra Cotta—it’s just a red velvet cupcake with cream cheese icing—which I ordered as a dessert when I ate out with Princess the other night. But I was too full to eat it after stuffing my face with pasta, unfortunately. So, I got it packaged up. Stuck it in the fridge. Forgot about its existence until now.”
A butter knife fell onto the island, followed by a lighter and a single pink candle. You sighed, eyes turning waterier by the minute, and Wonwoo felt a twinge in his chest that ached like hell.
“Do you like red velvet cake?”
Wonwoo huffed, shrugging. “Um, I’m not sure. Never had it.”
You picked up the candle. “Want to?”
He smiled. “Sure.”
Rather than keeping the cupcake inside the box, you moved the dessert delicately onto a clean porcelain plate and proceeded to shut the lights off. The orange sunset that painted the streets had bled out all its lurid colour. Wonwoo was just beginning to realize how dark it was in the apartment. You propped the pink candle into the expertly piped cream cheese frosting and ignited the tiny wick. A shivering halo of fire reflected in the marble countertop as the flame wriggled and the wax burnt.
Honestly, he didn’t know what the moment signified—if it was a mere gesture of forgiveness, or just a simple means to release all the tension—Wonwoo had not a clue. He thought he should be looking at the cupcake but Wonwoo was looking at you and the lambent glow flickering across your very upset, still face.
Sniffling again, you picked up the butter knife.
“Okay… hurry up and make a wish, please.”
“Really?” Wonwoo chuckled. “You want me to make a wish?”
“Uh… yes. That’s what people do when it’s their birthday.”
“It’s not my birthday.”
“Well—fuck—the spirit of your birthday, then.”
“You're asking a lot of me, you know. All this pressure.”
“Oh my god—it's just one ditsy little wish. I'm not asking you to write out your will, or solve world hunger. It's one stupid, tiny wish. For the sake of the moment. Hurry up before the wax drips on the icing.”
“I think you can just peel the wax off once it hardens—”
“Fuck! I don’t care, Wonwoo! God! Just—” he watched with a satisfactory smirk as you leaned forward and impatiently blew out the candle for him, “—there! Now, you don’t even get the opportunity to make a wish. Hope it was worth it.”
“So, you made a wish in my place, right?”
“Shut up. I’m cutting you the smaller half.”
“You didn't answer my question, though.”
“You didn't answer my question, though.”
“Hey, I don’t sound like that.”
“No, I didn't make a wish in your place—here.”
“Thank you.”
“… How does it taste?”
“Uh, it’s good. A little firm. The icing is really rich, but I suppose that’s typical of cream cheese stuff. But overall, I like it.”
“I really love red velvet. Especially in cupcake form.”
“Hm. Didn’t know that.”
“I wonder if I could get a dozen ordered for my birthday...”
“We’re celebrating my birthday and you’re already thinking of your own? Can you at least wait until I’m out the fucking door?”
“You said it doesn’t matter!”
“Now, that’s not what I said.”
“Don't act like such a smart ass.”
Wonwoo knew he missed your quippy retorts, but he hadn’t realized he’d missed it this much. It was filling a pitted crater within his chest that had remained empty and stone cold ever since the argument.
As you turned the kitchen light back on, Wonwoo stuffed the rest of the frosted cupcake into his mouth and dusted his hands clean.
He didn’t know what was supposed to happen now.
Stubbornly, Wonwoo didn’t want to leave your apartment. It had been too long since he’d last seen your beautiful face, and half his summer was already wasted to lamenting the relationship he’d ungraciously snipped in half like a fresh garden rose. If you wanted him to leave, then he would oblige, because Wonwoo could never go back on his word to abide by the choices that might make you the happiest. That was what he cared about most, anyway.
From the opposite side of the island, you began to cross your arms again, fingers digging tight into your ribs. Wonwoo could see that the hues of grief and melancholy hadn’t really abandoned your face since his arrival, and the tears that had earlier welled up in your eyes were steadily returning, glinting along your bottom lashes as though they were dew droplets. Feeling his throat turn dry and sensing the air become dampened with your sadness, Wonwoo knew what you were going to ask—he braced himself quick.
“So… um…” you began pulling at the short sleeve of your silk-buttoned top, rolling the fabric between uneasy fingers, “it’s getting a little bit late and I just t-think you should go now, Wonwoo…”
He nodded, pushing at his glasses. “Yeah… of course.”
There was such an evident somberness about the way his feet dragged toward the door. You had walked him over, and now that the space between you was significantly less, Wonwoo had never battled so hard with his self-control to keep himself from touching you—even if it was just a slight, chaste brush of his fingers against yours—the simplicity and feel of your strawberry-scented skin would appease his constant aching. He glanced at you, saw that your arms were still crossed and your eyes trained to muse over the floorboards.
Wonwoo scraped against the cuticle of his thumb.
Does he just… leave?
It felt too abrupt.
He smiled at you, keeping it soft and mindful.
“Thank you for listening to me… I mean it… you didn’t have to but you did anyway and… uh, I don’t know. Just—thank you.”
“Mmhm…”
You were squeezing at your ribs even tighter now, pressing in your fingers so unnaturally deep. In fact, Wonwoo was beginning to feel worried, especially when he noticed the quivering in your frame and the hard bite you were sinking into your lower lip—how there were tears streaking one by one down the slope of your cheeks.
Wonwoo’s hand had been lingering on the doorknob, though it slipped off absentmindedly. He wanted to reach for your shoulder and give it a comfortable, warm massage, but he was still too fearful.
“Her… are you alright?”
After a cautious step closer, Wonwoo paused, attempting to peer at your face despite its pointed direction toward the floor. The question was worthless, he realized. You were crying and choking up.
“Do you… should I go?”
God—what an even more stupid question to ask—the thing he wanted to do least was leave when you were this hurt. But Wonwoo needed to know if it was his presence that was disturbing you.
You shook your head, sniffled up all the wet, runny congestion in your nose. He watched the teeth free from your lip as you gasped.
“I-I don’t know… I’m really, really sad, Wonwoo.”
He thought he might panic in the midst of your crumbling, however, there was too much guilt and heartache inside him.
“I know…” he murmured.
Somehow, it felt so criminal to just stand there and watch you weep, hearing every desperate attempt for a breath as you could only clutch onto yourself harder and let the tears helplessly fall.
Wonwoo swallowed, feeling his throat burn.
“Can I comfort you for a bit?”
You hiccupped, and your face pinched up in complete misery, the response struggling to escape through the large sob you cried out.
“Please.”
Immediately, his hands braced against the edges of your very warm, wet face. The heat was radiating like a summer blacktop, and the tears were quick to pool against his fingers as he did his darndest to softly clean and wipe them from your skin—though, Wonwoo came to accept that it might be futile—and he opted to cup your cheeks for just a brief moment, staring into your damp lashes and puffy eyes.
“Still such a gorgeous girl, even when you’re crying.”
You huffed at him, grasping onto his hoodie and tugging it.
“I need you closer, please.”
Waddling into his arms, your face smushed right against his shoulder. In the dim august dusk that meekly glowed through the windows of your downtown, sumptuous apartment, Wonwoo cradled you, coaxing a hand nice and gentle along your trembling head while his arm kept you secured firm into his body. As wonderful as it felt to hold you in the way he always dreamt of, Wonwoo knew that those tears wrinkling his clothes were mostly driven by him.
Your arms dug into his chest. It seemed like you wanted to burrow impossibly closer, into his ribs if you could, but the desire frustratingly couldn’t be fulfilled. To compensate, Wonwoo attempted to squeeze you even more, though he was somewhat afraid of cracking you in half. Maybe that’s what you were craving.
But he liked you very much alive.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered into your hair, still damp from the shower and rife with the scent of fragrant blossoms, “I know you don’t want me to apologize, but I have to. Everything I said to you… it was just stupid, pent-up rage from my own shortcomings… so much was building inside me and I made such a dumb fucking mistake—taking our situation and using it as a target—it was all bullshit..." inhaling a breath, Wonwoo sighed. "I shouldn’t have let you walk out that door… but I don’t think you would have wanted to listen, anyway... you probably would have just told me again to go fuck myself… you know, that was actually the first time I’ve ever been told that?”
Your cheek nuzzled against his shoulder. The breath you proceeded to cough out made it sound like you were terribly ill.
“T-That’s hard to believe…”
Wonwoo smiled, smoothing a hand down your back. “You think so?”
Threading your fingers deeper into his hoodie, you nodded.
Stopping to contemplate, Wonwoo ended up agreeing, “hm… yeah... you’re right. There were probably a lot of times in my life where I deserved to hear that. But you’re the first, anyway.”
“Y-You… you deserve to hear it again… I mean, what were you thinking, Wonwoo?” Raising your head from his shoulder and sucking in a much-needed breath, you rubbed at the glisten iridescent to your face. “I didn’t know… I was just trying to t-tal-talk to you…”
Wonwoo unstuck some small, matted hairs from your forehead, guiding them away with the daintiest movements.
“I know you were...” he answered, keeping his voice quiet.
“And then, in the car… I-I just sat there and cried for so long that the sky got dark. I didn’t know what to do—like, I thought I might call Mingyu but he was at work a-and I had no idea what I would even say to him... and then, I called Princess. And she said I could come over and I legit couldn’t get one fucking word out to her.”
Meanwhile focusing on your choked, heavy sentiments, Wonwoo continued to clean the tears from your face. A warm hand had grabbed onto his wrist, not stopping him—just gently holding—as though you needed the contact to ground yourself, even a little bit.
“The shitty part was… even when I was at my angriest… I still couldn’t get myself to hate you. But I wanted it so bad, Wonwoo. I stayed up almost every night, trying to convince myself that you were the worst person I ever met, a-and that I would be better off without you—that you were a poison to me and everything about you is just a ruse to hurt people. No matter what I told myself, nothing would ever work… because I would—I-I don’t fucking know—I would think about how fucking good you make me feel inside. H-How happy I am when I’m with you. You listen to me, a-and you care about my thoughts and my interests and you’re just—you—you fucking live inside me somehow and I want you out so bad but there’s nothing I can do.”
Wonwoo had removed his hands from your face.
They slid down to your hips. He squeezed them tight, digging his thumbs into your flesh and bone over the silken shorts.
“You live inside me, too.”
Rubbing off your nose, you shook your head angrily.
“It can’t be like that.”
His throat twisted up.
“Why?”
“B-Because it—it can’t. You know I have Mingyu…”
“I only think about you. It’s always you. I don’t want it to change.” Wonwoo pleaded, hanging onto every word—trying to search for your eyes despite the adamant refusal to meet his gaze.
“But I just—I can’t do it.”
“Why?”
“Because!” You pushed at his broad chest, forcing him away as the anguished, grief-stricken shout reverberated between the high ceilings. Gripping at your head, you started to cry again. “I-I’m still so fucking angry at you, Wonwoo. I hate holding onto it and I hate that it’s been over a month and I’m still processing everything, but I can’t just move on from those feelings! I have to see it through. ”
The air was ice cold against him.
He just wanted your perfect body back in his arms.
“O-Okay… okay. I get it.”
“You do? Because I can’t keep reliving this. I just can’t.”
Wonwoo sighed, curling his fingers in and out.
“No, I—I hear you. I promise.”
You still needed time. You weren’t ready to forgive him. That was okay, and he wasn’t the least bit vexated by it. If he had to wait an entire year, then he would wait. Nothing would shake him from you.
Slapping a palm against your cheek, you shoved away the further tears which were seeming to become an annoyance. Wonwoo wanted desperately to be the one to wipe your pretty face and kiss away the salty taste of your sadness, but he knew not to push his luck.
Beyond the windowpanes, the sky was nearly pitch black, pinpricked by all the distant lights from the city buildings.
“I’ll go now, okay?” Wonwoo murmured.
Folding your arms, you sniffled a little, nodding.
“Okay...”
He wanted to say goodnight to you, but then he thought of that rule you had proclaimed during your late-night phone conversation many moons ago—you had to say it first as courtesy.
Except, you were silent.
Nonetheless, Wonwoo had liked to think it was sitting right on the tip of your tongue, just as it was sitting on his.
—SEPTEMBER 8TH.
When he thought back on his summer, Wonwoo couldn’t believe the quickness with which it had flown by, especially considering how nauseously slow some parts moved while he existed, trapped, inside them. Still, it was probably Wonwoo’s most eventful summer since his move from Korea, in more ways than one. Now, it was back to university for his final year as a maths student, and Wonwoo actually couldn’t be happier for the introduction of routine and the opportunity to test all the inner workings he’d accomplished.
Just last week, Vernon had thrown together a small party in the backyard of his friend’s rental home. He was housesitting, and though Wonwoo wasn’t sure why the friend in question would pick a promiscuous drug dealer for hospitality upkeep, the party was apparently approved and Wonwoo had made the effort to attend.
It gave him the chance to reunite with Seungcheol and Seokmin who he’d unintentionally given the cold shoulder. He was just thankful they were relaxed about everything. The night was spent swapping stories from their summer by the makeshift firepit, drinking cold beers, and watching the fireflies twinkle in the dry backyard brush. Vernon had spent all his time sweet-talking some new girl he’d invited from the club, and when they disappeared inside for about half an hour, Wonwoo prayed his bladder could hold out.
Wonwoo had also invited Sierra.
He figured she was just too warm and amicable and he knew she would get along seamlessly with everyone there.
Since they last spoke downstairs in the pottery shop during late July, Sierra had gotten herself a girlfriend—a patron of the Honeymoon who worked up the courage to ask Sierra out after admiring her bartending skills, as he’d heard it—and Wonwoo was more than happy to extend the invite. Seungcheol had predictably brought along Princess, though Wonwoo hadn’t been too worried. They seemed to be on good terms despite the chip in the relationship.
If you had been in town at the time, Wonwoo would have invited you, too. But you weren’t, instead accompanying your mother on a three-day venture outside the city for some publisher’s trip.
But he kept you in mind the entire night. He saw you in the wide, bright moon sitting squarely above the crackling fire, and he felt you in the colder breezes that whispered the beginnings of a soft, fresh autumn. You were everywhere inside him, just like his blood.
Wonwoo had liked to think he’d done it right. All those conversations he shared with you over the phone since the reunion at your apartment seemed promising—even when they flared and ached like a broken bone—Wonwoo had just wanted to hear your voice and know your heart. Though, the conclusion had dipped him in a strange, confusing predicament he still struggled to reason.
“I think we work best as friends… we’ll always be friends.”
The moment was followed by the most intense silence, and then Wonwoo had shifted the phone against his ear, spreading on an audible smile that couldn’t have looked any faker in person.
“Yeah… I see that, too.”
But he didn’t.
He was still in love with you.
And now Wonwoo didn’t know what to do.
You had come to an agreement that he should no longer help you with the book as it had been a point of contention since the start. Plus, you were now confident enough in your skills to finish it.
Surprisingly, Wonwoo was okay with that.
Nonetheless, he did offer his help if you ever needed it.
In fact, as Wonwoo sat in the small auditorium for his newest elective—the continuation to last year’s creative writing—he was scrolling through an old document you had sent him months ago, containing a litany of the same messily written paragraph, just rehashed as you attempted to find the best wording for it. Wonwoo couldn’t help but smile against the palm squishing at his chin.
Your mind always did seem to work in twelve different ways.
Since he’d shown up early to the lecture, Wonwoo was able to pick a good seat in the middle. He recognized a few faces from last year as more students began to trickle in. Wonwoo kept his bookbag on the chair to his right because he liked the extra space, though he began fearing he might have to move it when the lecture hall filled to a degree past his expectations. Since when did all these people take the class last year? Was it because of the new professor? He spun a pen between his fingers, observing everyone rather judgementally.
“Hey—are you saving a seat for your non-existent friend, or are you leaving your bag here to make sure no one else would sit beside you? Not that anyone would want to with the way you’re begrudgingly staring down every single person who walks in here.”
Wonwoo grinned, the pen stilling into his hand.
He knew your attitude like the ducks on his aunt’s shower curtain.
“If it’s such a big deal to you, you can move it.”
“Oh, can I? Do I get the pleasure of moving your bookbag, Wonwoo? Are you really that kind as to save such a life-changing, personal, and intimate experience, just for me?”
Smirking up at you, Wonwoo dropped his bag onto the floor.
He was promptly greeted by a very shiny smile.
“That’s what I thought,” you said matter-of-factly, setting your iconic cream purse onto your lap after sliding into the chair.
“So,” Wonwoo huffed, leaning back and casting you a curious glance, “you didn’t tell me you were going to take creative writing.”
Pulling out some chapstick, you laughed. “Uh—you didn’t tell me, either,” the comment was wry and muttered through the obstacle of moisturizing your lips.
Scratching his temple, Wonwoo chuckled, “fair.”
“Gosh, there’s so many people in here. Way more than I was expecting. I mean, who even are these goddamn people? I hardly recognize any of them—oh my gosh, do you think it’s because of the new professor? I looked her up, you know. She’s published three books—they’ve all got crazy good accolades—and one of them was even made into a movie! That has to be why. Should I try to get face time with her after class? No—actually, I won’t. Then I look totally desperate. I’ll play it cool. I’ll wait until, like, three classes from now.”
“Well, you’re never short of making an impression.”
“Meaning what?”
“Fuck,” Wonwoo laughed, “what the fuck do you think it means? It’s not like I’m talking in morse code. You make an impression.”
You smacked a hand down on his knee. “Well, how do I know if you mean good or bad! And don't curse at me like that.”
“Okay, okay. You're right. I'm sorry.”
“Are you?”
“Yes,” he replied, softening his voice, “I am very extremely sorry.”
That little smile you gave him was enchanting.
Wonwoo cleared his throat. “And I meant good, obviously.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. If you say anything to her, she’ll love you.”
“That’s a bit extreme.”
“She’ll keep you reasonably in her thoughts?”
“Hm. Yes. I like that better,” you agreed.
While you busied yourself with removing the laptop from your purse and taking an extra minute to inspect your face with a small, compact mirror, Wonwoo glanced around the room again. A few people standing by the professor’s podium at the front were looking at you, their mouths moving in conversation, though Wonwoo could hear none of it from the general chatter. He supposed you were used to getting those dissecting, curious, maybe even sometimes hurtful stares. There was always a light shining on you, wanted or not.
As Wonwoo pulled open the class syllabus on his laptop, he felt a tap against his shoulder. Slightly turning his head, he spotted someone shuffling by in the cramped row behind him, waving.
“Hey, Wonwoo,” the stranger said quickly in passing.
Squinting at him through his glasses, Wonwoo nodded. “Uh, hey.”
You quirked an eyebrow. “Who was that?”
He shrugged. “No idea. Someone from last year, I guess.”
“I see. Mr. Popular. Taking names and breaking hearts.”
Wonwoo laughed, shaking his head. “The opposite, actually.”
You giggled so lightly at his response, and for a very slow moment, Wonwoo saw and felt the heat of your eyes stilling in focus upon his face. He squirmed somewhat in his seat, fingers picking at the rough, dark blue material upholstered over the chair’s arm. But then you resumed staring back at yourself in the compact mirror while applying another layer of lip balm, and Wonwoo had to subtly breathe out all the butterflies that fluttered up from his stomach.
With a satisfying snap, you’d shut the mirror, stuffing it back into the purse that was sitting atop his bag on the floor. He wanted to ask you how the book was coming along, how much progress you had made since he last proofread anything, if you were still engaging in those messily long sentences or had you since learned to clean them up.
But it was hard for Wonwoo to ask.
He studied the nervous hands in his lap.
“So… are you free after class?”
You tilted your head in thought. “Uh, I think so? This is my only class today, actually. No more SSA. I’m beyond happy. No one else seemed to take it well but me. I don’t care, though.”
“No, you made the right choice.”
“So, why do you ask?” Angling your body toward him, you smiled, and Wonwoo felt this pool of warmth expand in his chest.
“Do you want to stop at the café on Sunnyside?”
“Maybe. Is it good? I’ve never actually ate there.”
“I think it’s good,” he said, bouncing his knee. “I used to sit in there all the time. I don’t as much anymore, but it’s a cute place to visit. About a ten-minute walk from here. Plus, it’s nice outside.”
You nodded. “I’ll think it over.”
Knowing that class was starting soon, Wonwoo moved the phone sitting on the edge of his tabletop into his back pocket.
“Actually, can I ask you something?”
He stiffened in his seat, hardly managing a nod. That always seemed to be a weighted question, especially in your hands, and the fact that you were biting the skin of your bottom lip only stirred forth more worry. Wonwoo folded his arms and nodded, feeling his heart beat.
“Well, it’s just—there’s no exact date yet, okay? But sometime in very late September my family is having another dinner party.”
Wonwoo’s fingers dug into his arms. “Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah…” you trailed off, continuing to bite your lip, “and, I basically—I-I’ve kind of been blabbing to my mom and stuff. You’ve definitely come up in some conversations. She made a comment that I could invite you and even though I disagree with her on, like, millions of things, I thought it might be a good idea…” your eyes flashed at him doubtfully. “So, like, I’m not gonna force you or anything. I’ve ranted to you about these dinner parties before so I’m sure you know how awful they can be. But… I don’t know… I mean, you don’t even have to stay the entire time. You could just pop by, o-or, or something like that. I just… I think seeing you before will help calm me down.”
Out of everything you could have asked, Wonwoo was least expecting the dinner party question. It seemed to have a very routine structure and Wonwoo couldn’t help but think that his presence there might throw everything off-kilter and the last—the very fucking last—thing he wanted was for your parents to absolutely loathe him. You always complained about them. Even with Mingyu and Seokmin there to accompany you, it seemed never to be enough. However, Wonwoo would hate to leave you hanging so dryly out in the open.
Even if he dreaded it, you mattered more to him than any awkward or nervous sentiments he harboured about the situation.
“Uh… okay. Yeah. I can go.”
You straightened up like a hair standing on end. “Really?!”
He nodded, pushing up his glasses. “Yeah.”
“Oh my gosh! You’re the best!”
Leaning over the chair rest, you bracketed your arms around Wonwoo’s neck, squeezing him into a quick hug that left his heart racing. Your sweet smell lingered in his nose as you slipped away.
“That’s such a relief… and—yes—for as much as I complain about it, I promise I’ll do my absolute best to keep everything on the rails. I’ll get you out of anything awkward or uncomfortable. And if you feel like it’s too much, I’ll be right there. I promise.”
Wonwoo smiled bashfully, shaking his head.
“Don’t put so much pressure on yourself. I can manage a few shit conversations and uncomfortable silences. I’ve got my own problematic parents. I appreciate the thought, though. Means a lot.”
It would be another matter to anxiously dwell over until it actually happened, but Wonwoo was okay with it knowing how receptive you had become to his mood. More than anything, he didn’t know how to deal with Mingyu. The party had been decent. There were multiple people to bounce off and uplift the weight, substances to mellow the tension and distract the mind. But this felt very different. This would be more intimate. Less room for error in the form of lasting, arduous glances and short but gentle touches.
All he hoped for is that it might end better than the party.
—SEPTEMBER 29TH.
“So, I’ll come pick you up, okay? Just gotta text me.”
“… Yeah, that works. Okay.”
“Take a breath, Glasses. If anyone’s got this, it’s you, alright? No negative Nina shit. You’re lookin’ gorgeous, even more than me.”
“It’s Nancy.”
“What?”
“It’s—never mind.”
“Who’s Nancy?”
“I said never mind.”
“Okay, okay. Jeez… make sure you drop the attitude when you get in there. It’s not very cute of you, yeah?”
Wonwoo felt Vernon’s hand grip onto his shoulder, bestowing him a confident shake that somehow only served to reveal how jellied and weak he’d become. But Wonwoo also knew he couldn’t sit inside the mint-scented interior of his friend’s vanilla Camry the entire night, waiting for some lightning bolt to strike him with the energy he blatantly needed. Consequently, his attitude had gotten a bit snappy.
Vernon was right, though. Wonwoo had to find it within himself to relax, take a breath, and realize the time would fly once he was past the initial haze. Besides, you were there. That was all he really cared about. It made the most impossible things possible.
Looking down at the sleek, unwrinkled material of his black suit jacket, Wonwoo gave it a final and deciding tug. He then reached for the gift bag sitting by his feet. Inhaling, his lungs filled deep with air and Wonwoo was clicking his fist against Vernon’s.
“You’ve got this, playboy.”
“See you on the other side, I guess.”
Exiting the vehicle, Wonwoo spared one last hopeful glance at his face-studded friend before slamming the door shut, now caught outside underneath the moon’s shimmer. Late nights in September always seemed to be somewhat dewy and cold, with golden, ruby, and amber leaves slicked against the streets like flowers pressed into paper. Wonwoo shivered, smelling the earthiness in the atmosphere.
After tightening his fingers around the straps of the gift bag, he began making his way up the smoothly paved driveway, toward the welcoming and aglow ambiance that beamed from your family house.
He grabbed the rung at the door, slamming it a few times.
The anxious breath slowly flowed from his mouth as Wonwoo’s mind raced with who would be the one to answer. Feeling his circled glasses slip, Wonwoo pushed them back up using his finger. At the same time, the front door swung open, and in the clarity, relief washed over him like the caress of that autumn wind.
“Fuck! You’re here!”
Before Wonwoo could get a word out, your arms were already thrown around his neck. The hug was fleeting. As quickly as your body was pressed flush against his, it was gone a second later.
“Uh, yeah. Just got dropped off.”
“Oh my gosh. Come in, come in,” you chirped like an excited bird, pulling at his elbow, “I’m legit so happy you’re here. Don’t worry about taking off your shoes. I know I’m barefoot at the moment but I’ve been so freaking scatterbrained that I haven’t even picked out a pair of heels yet. You look amazing. I’ve never seen you dressed up!”
His face began to burn at the compliment.
“I don’t attend many things that require fancy clothes.”
“Well, there’s a first for everything.”
Smiling, Wonwoo realized that he hadn’t really marvelled your dress, but there was something awfully familiar about it—the shiny olive-green colour, the elegant, revealing slit at the right thigh, the thin yet simple straps draped along the open, lowcut back—he then remembered it was the final dress you had tried on from that expensive boutique in the mall. Somehow, the material looked even more stunning on you now than it did before.
His face grew warmer, sizzling almost.
“That dress has always looked perfect on you.”
There was so much more he could spew in the moment, some cloying, sweet thoughts and some very impure ones, too. But Wonwoo wasn’t trying to cross boundaries and he had to respect your wishes of staying as friends, even if it tore him up inside beyond words.
Fiddling with your fingers, you gave him a soft smile. “I’m glad you recognized it.”
The hallway suddenly got very quiet. You were both just standing there, staring at each other, biting lips and scratching skin.
“So, um, I guess I can show you arou—”
“Oh, there they are! Honey, they’re out here!”
Wonwoo’s tender gaze had suddenly snapped toward a woman barging out from an illuminated doorway, a wine glass poised in her hand while the largest, most bedazzled necklace he had ever seen weighed down to her chest. Weathered heels beat the floorboards, echoing between the walls as she stalked toward him.
“You must be Wonwoo!”
Her hand was gripping onto his wrist and Wonwoo could only prompt a weak smile that was indicative of his racing, feeble heart.
“Yeah, correct. Pleased to finally meet you.”
“Oh, charmer. Pleasure’s all mine, sunshine. Okay, but—let me get a good look at you. Don’t feel like you have to stand by the doorway, all polite-like. Come a bit more into the light, over here.”
“Mom, don’t pull him,” you warned between clenched teeth.
“Ah, it’s alright, it’s alright. Don’t fret so much. Sheesh.”
Standing beneath the warm and yellow glow from the hallway chandelier, there was notable heaviness in Wonwoo’s chest as your mother’s dilated, intensive gaze wracked along his every feature, as though she were the reading the fine print to one of her catalogues.
“You’re certainly gorgeous,” she complimented, “and that voice! So soothing. How do you not have a lovely lady on your arm?”
Wonwoo’s eyes skipped to you in complete and utter panic.
Grabbing onto her shoulder, you gently guided her away.
“Mom, come on. You’re smothering him, alright? Remember the thing with Mingyu? I told you not to do that anymore. He just got here and I want him to actually enjoy himself. Don’t be so… pouncey.”
“Okay. I got it,” the mom said, lifting her hand and wine glass in submission, seeming serious for no less a few seconds. “The princess of the house, FYI. She always gets what she wants.”
You knocked her touch away as she wriggled your chin, very poorly veiling your annoyance through a grumble, “it’s not like that.”
“Didn’t I call in your father? What’s taking so long?”
“I don’t know. He’s probably hiding in his office.”
“Is that where he is? Really? When I asked him to set the table? Jeez. You spend all day cooking a meal, chopping and dicing and braising and frying, and the man just can’t be bothered to put out some knives and forks. This is why I opened the wine early, y’know.”
Your arms folded, and you appeared so much smaller.
“Seokmin set the table already.”
“Oh! What—he—he did? I didn't even notice!”
“Yes, like an hour ago.”
“Oh my gosh! That boy’s an angel. Raised so well, wasn’t he? You know Seokmin, right, Wonwoo? You’re all friends?”
Awkwardly shifting in his place, Wonwoo nodded. He couldn’t help but wonder where Seokmin or Mingyu were. There was dulled music echoing softly from a distant room in the house. Down the hallway corridor, it seemed to open up into a big living space.
Suddenly, your mom began to wiggle her finger at the bag he was holding limp in his hand, and for a moment, Wonwoo had even forgot it existed. She sipped from her gradually disappearing wine again, her words sounding muffled as they fogged up the glass.
“Is that a gift I spot in your hand, dear?”
“Oh, yeah,” he answered.
Flattening a palm over the intricate jewel necklace glittering down her chest, your mother fawned adoringly, and Wonwoo’s stomach immediately dropped knowing it wasn’t her gift at all.
“Gosh! You shouldn’t’ve!”
“Uh, a-actually, it’s not—it was—I got this for your daughter.”
His gut twisted, watching the excitement and gleam drain from your mother’s face, her smile wiped away like an eraser to a penciled drawing. At least you had brightened up, though it wasn’t without caution, and Wonwoo wasn’t entirely sure what to say.
Straightening her spine, a grin then twitched unnaturally to her mouth. She was directly back into the wine for another drink.
“Well, that’s certainly thoughtful.” Wiping off her lips, she unnervingly held Wonwoo’s gaze for a brief moment, her eyes harder than diamonds. She then turned toward you, proceeding to gesture in a swirling motion with her finger at your face. “Sweetheart, if you don’t mind, could you take a few minutes to just fix your makeup?”
Your expression faltered, shoulders sagging.
“My makeup? What’s wrong with it?”
“Well, the lashes are lifting a bit. It’s not too noticeable in this dusky hallway but out in the proper light, everyone will be able to tell. And I wouldn’t use that shade of lipstick. Remember the tip I gave you? When we take photos that colour is not going to show well.”
“I do remember, yes. But I thought it could match with—”
“No but’s. These dinners are important for us, alright? Go fix.”
Wonwoo held his breath. In all his time spent getting to know you—your likes and dislikes, your pet peeves and oddly specific rules about the way things should work—the one cardinal sin was to never interrupt you. Even when he was fighting tooth and nail against you in his apartment, aching with hurt and bitterness, he didn’t cut you off once to get his word over yours. He doubted Mingyu had ever done it, and he was positive Seokmin hadn’t, either. To actually witness it felt somewhat like a crime requiring swift punishment.
Though, for all that Wonwoo was expecting in response to the rage that had just rippled across your face, there was nothing.
Because you’d choked it down like foul cough syrup.
He watched the fist unclench at your side.
“Okay,” you stated in surprising simplicity, “I’ll go fix it,” still with a sprinkle of attitude that your mother opted to ignore as she announced her trip into the kitchen to check the food.
The second she was obscured from view, a noticeable glisten of tears and exhaustion glimmered in your eyes, though you sucked all the emotions back with a deep, deep breath.
“Do you want to come with me, upstairs for a second?” You asked in a tight, shaky voice. “Unless you want to find Seokmin.”
Wonwoo shook his head. “No, I’ll see him later. Of course I’ll come with you,” he answered, smiling at you with all his tenderness.
He proceeded to follow you up a dimly lit staircase draped in a chocolate brown rug. The house looked quite small from the outside, hidden almost, by the inky night, but as Wonwoo accompanied you at the robust, wooden dresser kept against the corridor wall, he realized just how long the house actually was.
Your lower back pressed against the dresser, hands gripping the edges and fingers scraping the underside of the chestnut.
Wonwoo left the gift bag sitting next to an amorphous, black metallic sculpture that he couldn’t even begin to understand, then dusting off his palms and watching you shake your head.
“I mean, you’ve only been here for five minutes, and I’m already breaking out my seams,” you laughed, dabbing at a tear travelling too far down your cheek. “I’m sorry. I didn’t intend for it to be like this so soon and I’m not gonna force you to stay.”
“Stop saying that,” Wonwoo urged, tucking his hands into his pockets, “I told you I would come. I’m not going to abandon you.”
You paused, biting the swollen skin of your bottom lip.
“… Okay.” Looking down at the ground, you wiped your damp face again before hugging yourself. “She always does this… she always has something to point out. Nothing can ever be perfect for her. I’ve spent, like, all day, preparing myself, because that’s what she wants, and it’s still not enough. I don’t get it. I feel—” you sucked in a needy breath, pinching at your nose, “—I feel like I’m just some stupid doll she’s trying to perfect, but I never came perfect in the first place, so it’s all a big waste, and somehow, it’s my fault… I know I’m unloading and I’m sorry for that, too. This day has just been—I hate it. I hate these dinners. I fucking hate everything about them. I want to bang my head against the wall.”
Wonwoo smiled at you.
He untucked a hand from his pocket and reached for the clenched fist at your hip, spreading apart your fingers into his.
“Don’t worry about that. I’m listening, okay?”
Though your eyes were misty with tears and tiredness, you managed to return a frail little grin that was deeply sincere. Your hand tightened in his for a moment, and then you were stepping into him like he was a fresh blanket straight from the laundry. Fingers bunched up his suit jacket and your face was warm against his neck.
“I think it’ll be a little better tonight,” you whispered. “You’re the only one here who doesn’t make me feel like I’m going insane.”
Wonwoo passed up and down your bare back with his hand, admiring the softness to your pampered skin and the luscious scent of your hair, though he knew you had probably hated every moment trapped in the hot shower, exfoliating and shaving and scrubbing your body clean. He felt you squeeze onto him harder.
“Can I see what your gift is?”
“Oh, yeah…” he muttered, pulling apart from your heat, “it’s kind of a two-in-one thing. It’ll make sense once I explain.”
“That seems exciting,” you answered, returning to your lean against the chestnut dresser, folding your arms and smiling.
“So, um—if you remember the poker game—I owed you a pretty big lump of cash,” Wonwoo said, reaching inside the bag to grab a smooth, matte box, “and then there was the day at the museum, of course. Running home in the rain. You lost a shoe.”
“Oh my gosh, yeah…” you giggled fondly at the memory.
“I was at the mall—and, yes, I know. Why would I be at the mall when I hate the place? But I was getting my laptop fixed at that tech store on the third floor, and I also needed wires for my—okay. Never mind the rambling. Fuck, I’m turning into you now. Anyway, I walked past that one store you love and get pretty much all your clothes from. They had these heels in the window. The white ones, which you said to me are actually not white, but a very specific shade of ivory that I couldn’t see and still fail to see, to be honest. And they had that little bit of gold in the straps… but the point is—I got them for you.”
You glitched for a second, and it wasn’t until Wonwoo was basically pushing the box into your chest that you seemed to realize.
“Wait… you actually went to Rosette?”
He nodded matter-of-factly. “Yes.”
“Are you fucking serious?” Immediately, you flipped the box open and began flicking away the neatly trimmed cover of glittered tissue paper. “You got me the Gold Crystal Rope-Strapped and Ivory Ankle four-inch from Mirabella? Wonwoo! I-I was just talking when I saw them in the mall! I mean, you didn't have to actually get them!”
“I know,” Wonwoo answered, helping you pick the heels out from their imprints, “you’re always just talking, though.”
“Unnecessary.”
“To you.”
He was thankful you were too enraptured by the shoes to bother retaliating. Under regular circumstances, Wonwoo wouldn’t ever have been able to make such an expensive decision, but he still had some leftovers from winning the other poker matches at the party, in addition to a work bonus, and he knew that he still needed to repay you those favours even if they weren’t being held against him.
“They’re so freaking gorgeous,” you fawned, inspecting each heel like a jeweller would to their collection, “I can’t tell if I want to hit you or jump on you in happiness. I love them so much.”
“Well, I’m glad.”
“Oh my gosh, can you help me put them on? Pretty please?”
“Uh—yeah, ‘course.”
You gripped the edges of the dresser, slightly sitting on the surface as Wonwoo squatted down to your bare feet. He collected the first ivory heel and loosened the anklet buckle, proceeding to help slide the shoe on until it was fit perfectly. As he busied himself with loosening the buckle to the other heel, Wonwoo felt the ghost of your fingertips brush through his hair. In a spilt second, he froze, staring up at you, who was grinning back in utmost beauty.
“Just fixing your hair a little,” you stated innocently.
Wonwoo readjusted his glasses, nodding. “O-Okay.”
The action hadn’t felt that innocent, and as Wonwoo swallowed tight and continued sliding your ankle through the heel, he was overwhelmed with the most blaring, vivid, heart-hammering thoughts of smoothing his hands along each your soft thighs, pinning up the slippery silk to your olive-green dress, tugging aside your thin panties, burying his face and tongue so hot and heavy into your—
“Dinner will be ready in fifteen minutes!”
“Fuck,” you groaned, lolling your head back while Wonwoo finished settling the heel onto your foot, “just in case you didn’t connect the dots, that means we need to get downstairs.”
He returned to height, straightening out the sleeves to his suit jacket. For some reason, there was such an intense disappointment burning in his chest, as though his carnal thoughts were not just thoughts but an actual intent to pleasure you—which was completely ludacris given your friendship and the fact your boyfriend was probably downstairs—that had now been ripped away from him by the shrill pitch of your mother’s beckoning voice.
“Should I take the box—”
“It doesn’t matter.”
You grabbed onto his hand, tugging him toward the staircase.
“C’mon. Let’s get this shit over with.”
And Wonwoo followed, though he couldn’t help but note how you carefully dropped his hand upon rounding the corner into the kitchen, where Seokmin and Mingyu were standing about.
“Hey!” Seokmin exclaimed, pointing toward him. “Wonwoo!”
Expectantly, Seokmin looked like he belonged in a suit. That dark cherry red colour was rather fitting and only served to amplify the glow of his indestructible enthusiasm. Wonwoo awkwardly sauntered over to them, playing with the threads in his pockets.
Mingyu’s suit was more charcoal in tone, with his hair expertly gelled and combed. He mirrored a suave movie star as he leaned against the kitchen counter, sipping from his partly-filled wine glass.
“Uh, hey guys.”
You were hovering at the stove alongside your mother, talking in a hushed manner, while she stirred a large and bubbling pot of aromatic sauce, smelling like rosemary and perhaps cooked off vodka or some other alcohol. There was food everywhere—warm bread plates and fresh salad bowls and artistically painted casserole dishes covered by tinfoil. A window had been cracked open to help alleviate the heat swarming the kitchen, which Wonwoo could feel a little too uncomfortably in the air.
Seokmin grabbed at a couple crackers and cubed cheese organized onto a charcuterie board behind him.
“Don’t you clean up well?” He complimented with a big grin.
Wonwoo shook his head. “Not that well.”
“Hey—” Seokmin suddenly grabbed onto Wonwoo’s shoulder and pointed a finger at him, “—you’re here, alright? That’s an honour.”
Mingyu brushed the cracker crumbs off Seokmin’s suit.
“Don’t snack too much. She hates when you can’t eat.”
“Uh—I made this stupid board. I get to eat from it whenever I want. I’ll be fine, anyway. I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”
Mingyu stopped tidying Seokmin’s suit, instead grabbing his wine glass off the countertop, sighing aloud, “that was a stupid idea…”
From the dreariness to his words and the slouch pulling down his shoulders, Mingyu didn’t seem to be all that excited or even half as chipper as Seokmin, though Wonwoo suspected that he knew the dinner parties to be a complete trainwreck. If Mingyu could hardly stomach a night with your parents despite all the stunning food and drink, then Wonwoo had no idea as to how he’d survive.
“So, um…” Seokmin lowered his voice, tipping his head close to Mingyu’s ear, “should we give him the rulebook?”
“Rulebook?” Wonwoo echoed.
“Uh,” Mingyu sipped quickly from his wine, “yeah, guess we can do that. Not in here, though. Let Her talk to her mom.”
“Easy peasy lemon squeezy.” Seokmin smiled, flashing a sly wink at Mingyu. “Hey, we’re gonna give Wonwoo a quick tour, alright!” He then called, his hand wrapping around the boy’s bicep, already beginning to tug him toward the hallway. “It won’t take too long; we’ll just show the bottom floor! Be back in a few!”
“Oh, uh, I guess that’s fine,” your mother replied while grabbing onto the pot handles with two tea towels, moving the sauce from the element, “but please do be quick! And, Seokmin—do you mind fetching the hubby from his office after you’re done?”
“I can do that, for sure,” he answered, smiling bright.
“Thank you, dear. I appreciate you so much.”
He was escorted out the muggy kitchen and down the corridor, flanked by Mingyu and Seokmin until they reached the living area where the piano music had been coming from.
Before he could issue even one question, Wonwoo was pressed down onto the red, very large-cushioned couch. Seokmin sat on the marble coffee table while Mingyu fixed himself onto the arm of a sturdy leather chair, crossing an ankle over his knee. Neither boy spoke for a moment and Wonwoo couldn’t help but feel a bit frightened as he listened to the elegant, soft piano tune fill the space.
“So… what’s the rulebook?”
“Well, it’s not an actual rulebook,” Seokmin corrected, “that was just for dramatics, allure, etcetera. But that’s what we call it.”
“We? You and Mingyu, you mean.”
Shifting in his place, Seokmin nodded, and his voice dropped an octave lower, "play the game long enough, you learn the rules.”
Mingyu’s chuckle dampened into the wine glass. “And there a lot of fuckin’ rules, that’s for damn sure,” he said with a scary smirk.
“But—we’ll just give you the crash course for now, as to lessen the overwhelmingness of what it takes to endure a dinner party.”
“Um, does Her know—”
“There are three principal rules; I’ll give them to you quick, so listen good,” Seokmin interrupted, leaning further into Wonwoo’s space, speaking quietly. “Rule one: do whatever the mom says, even if she doesn’t say it directly, or scarcely alludes to it. Makes everything ten times smoother, and gets her to like you, which is very important. Rule two: there is a guaranteed argument between Her’s mom and Her every fucking time—you stay out of it—never pick sides.
If you do get roped into whatever petty, passive-aggressive shame-fest they rake up, insert a compliment. Example: this steak is so tender and perfectly cooked! FYI—we’re not eating steak, so think of your own thing—and rule three: Her is like a freshly shaken can of carbonated soda and she can explode at any given moment. As her dear friends, and boyfriend, we have to make sure that doesn’t happen or else you’ll want to axe yourself.”
Wonwoo furrowed his brow heavily at Seokmin, noting a few crumbs left on his cherry suit from the cheese and crackers.
“How do we stop that?” He asked genuinely.
Mingyu proceeded to lower the nearly emptied wine glass against his knee, clearing his throat, “you don’t stop it.”
“But I thought—”
“It happens every time, without fail,” Seokmin answered, shaking his head, “but you can prolong it. You know, like cracking open the cap and letting out some air instead of the bottle fizzling into obliteration right away. The explosion’s not as big then. It’s easy. You just keep the conversation pushing. Don’t leave any space for bickering. Mingyu sometimes takes Her downstairs, or outside. To be fair, you don’t really have to worry about the last part.”
“Yeah,” Mingyu huffed, hardly amused, “lucky you, huh?”
“What happens if that fails?” Wonwoo asked.
Seokmin leaned back, tipping his head to the side. “Last year Her’s mom spent six hours braising these honey-garlic barbeque ribs with asparagus and stuffed potatoes. Guess where the food ended up by the end of the night? Because it wasn’t my starving mouth.”
“I don’t think I want to know,” Wonwoo sighed.
Bobbing his head approvingly, Seokmin smiled. “Exactly.”
“If these dinners are always such a mess, why do they keep happening? I mean, it doesn’t seem like anybody enjoys them.”
Fiddling with the thick folded cuff of his dress shirt, Seokmin shrugged. “I don’t know, to be honest. They used to a be a lot bigger in the past. Way more relatives and family friends. Just get-together's with a lot of food and drink and intoxicatedness. A way to maintain community and repore or something. But it’s shrunk down over the years. I still can’t tell if that makes it better or worse.”
Mingyu rubbed tiresomely down his neck, somewhat wincing as he massaged a sore spot. “It definitely makes it worse.”
“Yeah, I guess so,” Seokmin agreed, “it puts more pressure on the rest of us… anyway, I should grab ‘the hubby’ as per request.”
Snickering, Mingyu flashed his pointed canine teeth and raised the wine back to his lips. “Makes your skin crawl, doesn’t it?”
With an uneased laugh, Seokmin smirked. “Every time.”
As the boy disappeared down a dark hallway to the right of the large living area, Wonwoo assumed he and Mingyu might return to the kitchen as it was probably not the best idea—leaving you alone for too long with your nitpicking mother—but when Wonwoo began lifting himself from the plump couch cushions he was sunken into, Mingyu’s hand touched at his shoulder to stop him.
In an instant, trepidation surged throughout his body.
Wonwoo’s face had most certainly gone white, though the lighting in the living room was too warm and orangey to tell.
“I just wanna talk to you about something real quick,” Mingyu said, stretching forward to leave his empty glass on the marbled table.
“Oh—um, okay.”
When he thought about the past few months, Wonwoo realized he hadn’t even spoke to Mingyu since the blowout party back in June. So much had happened since then, good and bad. Wonwoo could only suspect that he was about to hear the worst talking-to in his life, though he attempted to feign the terror for casualness.
Mingyu swooped a hand behind his ear, brushing back his perfectly styled hair, and looked to Wonwoo almost… forgivingly?
“I know you and I haven’t seen each other since the party at Seungcheol’s. I know some shit went down between you and Her and that it really blew up and you guys weren’t talking for a bit. She said, like, it was something to do with the book she’s writing and you were having differences about the direction and it kinda exploded.”
Wonwoo prayed it was imperceptible, the gigantic breath of relief he fought to exhale without too much giveaway, knowing that you hadn’t told Mingyu the truth to the argument. He was happy about your work-around, though he didn’t know if it was… morally right… that you opted not to tell your boyfriend—the person you supposedly trusted most—one of your biggest miseries.
“Oh… yeah,” Wonwoo exhaled, “it got pretty ugly.”
Mingyu nodded. “I honestly don’t even know if she’s still working on it. She doesn’t tell me about it. I don’t get why it’s so fuckin’ important to her but… I digress. Anyway, like Seokmin said, you’re here now, so you two obviously hashed it out. She seems to really appreciate you as a friend. And—hey—it helps takes some of the weight off my shoulders, y’know? Girl’s a fuckin’ handful sometimes.”
Wonwoo swallowed, feeling increasingly uncomfortable with the conversation and the alcohol he was beginning to smell from the boy’s clothes. He understood the situation was stressful for Mingyu, that he might be teetering between things absentmindedly, yet he nonetheless questioned what Mingyu’s intentions even were with you.
“Well, uh… I really enjoy spending time with her, too,” he murmured as Mingyu reclaimed his emptied wine glass.
There was a strong grip on his shoulder, shaking it.
“You’re a good person, man. Seriously.”
Using Wonwoo as a support crutch, Mingyu heaved onto his feet, then proceeded to straighten out his charcoal suit jacket.
“M’kay, I’m going back to the kitchen. We’re probably gonna eat soon so don’t spend too long losing your head out here.”
“Yeah, got it.”
He watched Mingyu amble down the long and subtly aglow corridor, carrying his wine glass low at the hip until reaching the threshold to the kitchen. You had suddenly popped out, stumbling into him with a smile and some hushed words that were impossible to comprehend as Wonwoo sat alone, listening to the jazzy piano tunes from the record player. After nipping a quick kiss against your boyfriend’s lips, you entered the living room with a crooked head.
“What’chya doing out here?” You inquired, pressing a hand against the grand, wooden frame adorning the entry way.
Wonwoo grabbed at his knees while pulling himself up.
“Just a quick pep talk. And a fly-by of some rules.”
“Oh,” you chuckled, “Seokmin’s crash course, was it?”
“Yeah.”
“Sometimes I call him John Green just to piss him off.”
Wonwoo smiled, stepping around the marble coffee table. “I feel like that might serve to stroke Seokmin’s ego above all.”
“No, it starts to irritate him after a while. You should know at this point I can piss off just about anybody. Even Seokmin. It’s a talent. Though I don’t think it’s enough for me anymore. I want to start pushing people to rock bottom or I haven’t done enough.”
There was a teasing sparkle in your eye as Wonwoo approached you. He could smell all that deliciously cooked food from down the corridor and his stomach was certainly responding to it.
“I can get you there,” Wonwoo said. “Don’t stress.”
“Forgot to fix my makeup. Want to come with me?”
He agreed, and you began to guide him across the living room, swathed in all its expensive mahogany fabrics, obtuse looking vases, and jade-green lamp shades that reminded him of late-night study sessions at the campus library. You pulled him past a wide shelf that was organized with much smaller, glazed sculptures that caught his attention as they lowly glimmered in the mellow light.
“Woah,” he gripped at your wrist, stopping your swift walk, “someone in your family loves ceramics, I’m guessing?”
You ricocheted back into his side, then taking a few seconds to adjust some invisible flaws in your hair before responding.
“That’s just some pottery I did when I was younger.”
Wonwoo squinted at you. “Really?”
“Mmhm.”
“You took classes?”
Shrugging, you muttered a simple, “yeah.”
“Is that why you were so interested in that vase back at my apartment?” When you continued to stare at him blankly, Wonwoo cleared his throat and reiterated, “the red one? It was really round at the bottom, but the stem was tall and skinny. You really liked it.”
“Oh—yeah—sorry, it’s been a while since I’ve last been to your apartment. I don’t know if that’s why I liked it. Probably.”
He smiled at you inquisitively. “I’m surprised you never mentioned that to me, considering my landlord is a ceramics teacher. I mean, as you know.”
Your eyes seemed reminiscent and adrift, glancing from sculpture to sculpture—lopsided teapots, poorly shaped toadstools, crooked little spoons—there were a plethora of your small creations laid across the shelf, gathering dust and appearing untended to.
Wonwoo cleared his throat, hands buried in his pockets. “I just didn’t peg you as someone who liked getting their hands dirty. I suppose it’s different when you’re younger, though.”
Pursing your lip, you nodded. “Things are always different when you’re young. My mom used to use the spoons I made to scoop sugar into her coffees. But she doesn’t drink coffee anymore. Just wine.”
“Well, it’s nice she appreciated your effort.”
There was a beat of silence. Your expression twitched.
“I had to beg to take those classes, y’know?”
Wonwoo raised an eyebrow at you. “How come?”
Your arms folded, and you shrugged again. “My parents honestly saw it as a distraction. I mean, why let your daughter play with some clay when she can hardly pass her math tests. But there was this super artsy girl in our recreational class who always made the best teacups from the clay, and she would paint them so beautifully… I wanted to be able to do what she did. So I asked my parents again and again and again until they fucking gave up and found a pottery class to enroll me in. Although, I'm pretty sure they supposed I would drop it sooner or later. Like it was just an itch I had to scratch. It was in this little art shop that looked similar to your landlord's.”
He smiled at you. “Was your instructor a polish lady?”
“No, she was not polish,” your head shook as you swept some dust from the black shelf, rubbing your fingers together, “I remember that much, but I don’t remember her name. It was after a flower, though. Something too complicated for my eleven-year-old brain to retain.”
“Probably Chrysanthemum or some shit,” Wonwoo muttered.
You laughed at his comment, “probably.”
“… Well, you must have liked it. You made so much stuff.”
“Oh, I loved it. I mean, looking at some of this stuff now, it’s not that great. But I didn’t really care that much at the time.”
“Considering you were a child, it’s pretty damn good.”
Wonwoo felt your elbow dig shallowly into his ribs. “Don’t try to flatter eleven-year-old me,” you warned him. “If you would have seen the other girl’s creations, mine would turn from pretty damn good to: well, at least she tried something new!”
“No,” Wonwoo chuckled, “that’s dumb.”
“Honestly, there was so much stuff that I made. More than half of it’s not even on this shelf. There wouldn’t be enough space.”
“Shit. What happened to it?”
You pinched at the olive fabric of your dress, massaging the silk between your fingertips for a moment while examining each and every sculpture moulded and grooved by your tiny childhood hands.
“My favourite part was destroying it,” you answered.
Wonwoo narrowed his brow, “I don’t think I could do that to something I spent so much effort and time creating.”
“Yeah, and that’s all good and fine,” you reasoned, adjusting your shoulders, “but I just didn’t see it like that, I guess...”
Intrigued, Wonwoo smiled at you. “How did you see it, then?”
For a moment, you thought, staring off into space.
“Well, I just don’t understand why people are so afraid of things being ephemeral. When you’re an artist, or a writer, or a musician, I feel like you want to make something that will last forever, transcend eras, touch people for a lifetime, or, I don’t know—you want it to stay preserved, like when they embalm things. But I feel like there’s just as much worth and importance to the things that hardly last at all. I feel like there’s so much freedom and self-assurance in building something up and then crushing it down.
That’s what I loved about it. When the clay would explode from between my fingers and stick into the lines of my palms because I was squeezing it so hard—it just felt good. Like it was supposed to happen. Like I was letting go. It doesn’t have to mean I… failed. It doesn’t have to mean I’m good at it either… I guess I just want to enjoy things without the burden of having to prove I deserve to enjoy them. Why can't I just do it? Why can't it just be between me and myself, you know? Why can't I decide what to take from it?"
Wonwoo nodded at you.
Contrarily, that was the opposite to his own beliefs surrounding his art, and maybe even his life. Wonwoo could never let things go, nor was he sure when that quality had permanently wedged its way into his human nature. For some reason, Wonwoo saw the past memory where his older brother had scampered away into the bushes surrounding the public pool during that game of Lifeguard all those hot summers ago, leaving an adolescent Wonwoo to get dragged from the water and thrown onto the sun-scorched concrete as everyone watched.
He saw the fuzzy, white glow that beamed from his laptop left open in the darkness, sitting still with all those pages he wrote, and yet to be filled with the words that he could never string together.
Unlike you, Wonwoo had never figured out the mechanism to letting things go. Instead, he held everything—between his fingers, across his shoulders, on his tongue, under his skin, deep inside his chest. Hence, for a split second, he was incredibly jealous that it seemed you could live without weight. You were just a breeze.
And just like everyone else, you were still discovering yourself.
“Anyway. That’s my take on it."
"Why'd you stop? This seemed like such a big part of you."
You flicked your eyes around, shrugging. "Things got in the way."
Wonwoo wondered what things, though he didn't ask.
"But we should hurry. Dinner will be ready soon and my mom will flip if we’re not at the table in time. She interprets it as ‘we don’t care’ and that will open a can of worms nobody wants to see.”
You sighed, then grabbing onto Wonwoo’s arm to pull him down another mysterious, long corridor in your maze of a house.
“Oh, Mingyu, that’s brilliant! I’m so glad the interview went well! I had him slip in a good word for you, too. But I’m sure you put the nail in the coffin. Walking straight into a promotion, you know, that’s something so hard to come by. You’ll settle just perfectly.”
“Yeah, thanks. To you as well. That word went a long way.”
“Making the right connections is certainly key.”
“It is. But I’m just lucky, is all. Your daughter is the real key. She’s given me so much—you all have—I just wanna let you know how grateful I am. Seriously. You’re some of the kindest people.”
“Shush! Before I give you a lash from this towel. It’s been sitting under the potato tray so it’s nice and hot… I’m so excited for your future together. A real power-couple! That’s for sure.”
“Hm. Yeah.”
Wonwoo was pressed flush to the wall just outside the kitchen, simultaneously holding his breath while listening to the conversation between your mother and Mingyu as everyone was presumably sat around the dressed table. Your fingers were hurriedly ruffling out some wrinkles in his tie while you repeatedly cursed at both your tardiness, and he simply let you do what you pleased. After a half-second adjustment made to his collar, you wasted not an instant more—Wonwoo was suddenly thrust into the warm kitchen with you impatiently in tow.
As expected, everyone was sat and waiting. Even your father had been at last pulled from his study, and he was positioned at the head of the long dinner table while twiddling a fork around in his fingers.
Your mother had an elbow propped on Mingyu’s chair.
She was the only one standing.
“Quick,” you whispered into Wonwoo’s ear, practically shoving him down into the empty seat beside Seokmin, “sit there.”
Upon the nervous side-eye that his friend shot at Wonwoo, he suspected that he may have just wriggled his way into an unfortunate ticket straight to hell. You held up the flowy, billowing silk of your olive dress while making your way to the seat across from him and beside a very unenthused-looking Mingyu, who was evidently chewing on his inner cheek. Wonwoo caught Mingyu’s stare for no less than a second, and there was nearly enough electricity in the glance to make a crackle.
A few more dishes had been squeezed onto the table since he was last in the kitchen. Despite the fact there was only six people eating, nearly every corner and crevice of the table was occupied. Your mother had cooked enough to feed an entire party, unless she was planning on sending everyone home with tupperwares full of leftovers.
“Looks super delicious,” Seokmin complimented.
Mingyu nodded in agreement. “Smells even better.”
Wonwoo didn’t know if he was also supposed to throw out some off-the-tongue compliment and keep the train chugging. The atmosphere was just so heavy—everything felt like an extreme effort—he could hardly breathe without the sensation of his lungs itching, as though they were adorned in cobwebs. Unconsciously, he’d started picking at his thumb, his appetite disappearing by the second in place of dread.
“You boys are so lovely, thank you,” your mother commented, straightening out the orange tea towel in her hand while continuing to lean into the side of Mingyu’s chair. “This was all a labour of love.”
Seokmin flashed a picturesque smile that Wonwoo had seen many times before. “Well, I’m feeling the love. That’s for sure. Are we ready to dig in all?” Still, there was a bit of anxious haste in his actions.
“One moment, first,” your mother stated, pausing Seokmin in his reach for a large casserole spoon. Wonwoo clasped his hands together even tighter as she said, “we’re going to wait a few minutes more.”
You had pulled out your chair, but you didn’t sit.
“Mom, I was just fixing my makeup. That’s what you asked me to do. There’s no reason to make everyone keep waiting.” You removed the towel from her hand and laced it through the oven handlebar. “Just take a seat, okay? I’ll start making everyone’s plates if they pass them.”
She smiled at you. “Well, that’s a very sweet gesture. But it doesn’t take long to fix an unstuck lash or change a lipstick. You’ve got yourself a makeup chair. You should know better than anyone, my love.”
Wonwoo hated this—he hated the way your mother’s criticizing was buttered up nice with a practiced, insincere smile and a crooning voice. He hated the way Mingyu was pushing fingers against the knot in his stiff eyebrow like something horrible was about to happen. He hated the way your father was uncomfortably mute, sitting only with a pursed lip and folded arms in complete disinterest, like he’d rather be anywhere else. He hated that Seokmin was continuing to beam his signature-watt smile even though the air was dense enough to crush everyone flat.
You picked up Mingyu’s plate, presumably because it was the closest to you, and started slopping some hot casserole onto it. Every movement was autopilot, thoughtless, as the steam from the breached casserole rolled up into the air and shrouded you.
“I was only trying to make it perfect,” you muttered.
“Make it what?” Your mother questioned, staring you down.
“Perfe—”
“Stop mumbling, my love. I can’t hear you.”
Mingyu’s messy plate was collapsed back onto its placemat with a very loud thud, and you looked to your mother with utmost annoyance.
“I was trying to make it per-fect.”
She quirked her head. “And you needed Wonwoo to do that?”
Just as he ruminated—the universe had a fearsome penchant for whirlpooling him into the centre of everything and anything horrible, like his name was written in the water. Though, Wonwoo couldn’t say he was expecting to survive the dinner party unscathed. He tried to remember the quick spiel of rules Seokmin had relayed to him—was it better to get involved or just shut the fuck up? Wasn’t Mingyu supposed to do something? Wasn’t Seokmin supposed to keep the conversation pushing?
“Mom, please, just—I was showing him around, okay? He’s the guest. He’s never been over before. Wonwoo has nothing to do with us being a few minutes late to dinner. So just leave him be.” You removed the tinfoil from another bowl. Grabbing a wooden spoon, you started slapping creamy mashed potatoes onto Mingyu’s plate. “Trying to make something out of nothing… why can’t we just eat for once?”
“Honey, we could be eating, but you’re choosing to sulk.”
“I’m not sulking! I’m trying to help!”
“No, no, no. Mingyu’s plate looks like an animal that got squashed by a car. If you can’t even properly fix your future husband a nice-looking plate of food without pooling all your anger into it, then there’s an issue, there.” She shook her head. “A very big issue.”
Wonwoo could see your eyes burning.
Mingyu had then sighed, removing the wooden spoon that was clenched up in your hand like a weapon and slipping it back into the mashed potato bowl. The boy tugged a few times at your wrist, keeping his tired voice as soft as possible while imploring you to sit down.
“It’s alright, everything’s fine,” he said, probably to soothe himself more than anything, “all the food goes straight into my mouth, anyway. Same goes for all of us. Sit down, Her, alright? Please?”
“No,” you snapped your wrist free, “I don’t want to sit.”
In a desperate hope to experience some sort of consolidation amongst the tension, Wonwoo angled a glance toward Seokmin. When his friend wouldn’t look back and merely opted to keep biting his blistering lip, Wonwoo quite literally felt a meteor sink into his stomach.
Slicking a hand along his shiny hair, Mingyu sighed even deeper. “Please just sit. You know what’ll happen. Please.”
Again stepping away from Mingyu’s attempted touch, you began to shout, and Wonwoo’s breath froze as your voice echoed around the kitchen in a hauntingly similar manner to the quarrel at his apartment.
“I already said no!”
From the head of the table, your father pushed out his chair. His voice was oddly gruff when he spoke, like he hadn’t said a word all day and his throat was hoarse by consequence.
“Don’t shout,” was all he warned.
Your mother shook her head. “She will raise her voice when she doesn’t get what she wants.”
Wonwoo couldn’t help but feel the cut from her disappointed eyes even though she wasn’t even looking at him.
“I’m raising my voice because you’re not listening! You haven’t listened to me all fucking day! Oh my god! It’s eating me alive!”
In an instant, Mingyu was to his feet, almost trying to court you into the corner by the open window with his hands that you battered away. Wonwoo gripped onto his knees. He couldn’t choke out a damn word and Seokmin seemed to have become stiller than stone.
“Calm down,” Mingyu urged, “take some breaths.”
“You still won’t listen!”
“I’ll listen later, I promise.”
“Mingyu, do you even hear yourself?!”
“Just—you’re blowing this out of proportion again.”
“Stop trying to control me!”
“Calm down and—hey!”
With a frustrated groan, you squirmed away from Mingyu and rushed back to the dinner table where your mother continued to stare at you with such conflict in her expression, as though it was mentally taxing her to compute how such a seemingly perfect, established daughter could simultaneously appear so unraveled and incomplete before her. For a second, Wonwoo thought you might take the mashed potatoes or casserole and just completely drench the wall in their remnants.
But you didn’t do anything. Instead, you looked across the organized table—the vibrant food, sparkling drinking glasses, and expensive, unpopped bottles of alcohol—at Wonwoo, who had admittedly felt pretty useless and paralyzed throughout the ordeal. You looked straight into his eyes and he could see that you were almost physically begging him for an out. And, if he could see himself as an outsider, it was probably the same damn look he was giving you.
Wonwoo hadn’t even noticed the silence in the room.
Your father coughed, retrieving his utensils, ready to sweep the argument and very obvious hostility under the rug—put a small little bandage on a gigantic wound that had been festering for years.
“Same dance every time. Come sit, Mingyu. Let’s just eat.”
That would be nice, if Wonwoo had any appetite.
That would be nice if he wasn’t pushing out his chair, getting up from the table, keeping his gaze level and connected with yours, watching you swallow hard, hold back your tears, anxiously flex your fingers in a momentary contemplation and then—unprompted—run. Just run.
Wonwoo fled into the corridor with you right behind him, your hands kneading against his lower back as he threw open the door to the quiet, dimly lit front porch where that damp and black September night was ready to breathe him in and whisk you two away. He heard the very confused shouting from the kitchen, but there wasn’t any time to waste.
Wonwoo flew down the wood steps and splashed through a shallow puddle reflecting the moonlight, running toward the long street drifted in thinly strewn mist. He continued to run, only stopping for a brief moment to turn around and observe you quickly fling off your heels before scooping them up while everyone crowded onto the porch, yelling.
In your bare feet and a smile so pearlescent, you sprinted straight into Wonwoo’s outstretched arms, giggling aloud while he gripped your body firm and spun you in a circle that saw your dress twirl like a ribbon and your legs brush through the alive air.
Mingyu began stalking down the driveway, visibly angry, his face twisted into a snarl that might see Wonwoo getting split in his nose.
“Fuck, fuck!” You cursed, squeezing your fingers into his. He was suddenly being tugged down the empty, dark street, as though there was some invisible curtain for you to magically disappear behind. “Let’s go!”
Wonwoo didn’t mind one bit. Indefinitely, he would let you tug him over a cliff if it meant you two could fall together. The street was long and wet but the air was so fresh. Every breath he took was pure.
He didn’t know where you were going.
But he didn’t need to.
“Be careful. I don’t want you to step on something sharp.”
“I think I already did.”
Wonwoo pulled tight on your warm hand, stopping you.
“Seriously? Let me look.”
You made a slight huffing noise while sitting down on a large boulder, not caring that the surface was sandy and damp, forming a dark imprint against your olive dress. Wonwoo squatted down, looking at the dirty underside to one bare foot, and then the other, realizing there weren’t any cuts. He then used the cuff to his suit jacket, brushing off the small pieces of grit stuck into the skin in case he missed anything.
In all honesty, Wonwoo had no idea where you two were. After running far down the fancy Hillcrest Street until your family house was completely obscured into mist and memory, you led Wonwoo off onto a separate footpath by the treeline. Your fingers were slotted into each other’s. This was the first time Wonwoo had let go of your hand since running away, and the chilled air felt like prickles on his palm.
Removing the phone from his pocket to shine a light, he wasn’t at all surprised to see the missed calls and texts that had collected minute by minute from Seokmin earlier. You didn’t even have your phone. The only thing you carried was the ivory heels that Wonwoo gifted you at the start of the evening, which were still clutched in your hand.
“No blood. No lacerations. Just dirt,” Wonwoo said. “If you did cut yourself, you might not even feel it with all that adrenaline.”
You smiled at him. “Your phone a graveyard of Seokmin texts?”
He smirked, flicking through them all. “Precisely, yeah.”
Leaning backward on the boulder, you at last let go of the heels and stretched your arms out behind you, staring up at the moonlight patterning between the forest trees, their branches more barren as the autumn leaves came loose in the breeze. They fell down one by one, rustling softly whenever they hit the ground. He heard you sigh.
“Everyone there can go fuck themselves.”
Putting his phone away, Wonwoo smiled. “Yeah?”
“Yes.”
“That line’s a classic, coming from you.”
He attempted to sit beside you on the boulder, ignoring how uneven and rough it felt under his butt. Wherever you were along the footpath, it was perfectly hushed, almost felt hidden. The tree branches above him had framed the moon akin to a picture—except, he felt like he was the one painted, and that it was the moon who was watching him.
“I’m sorry.”
Wonwoo began to look at you rather than the night sky.
“Don’t apologize.”
You stared at him deeply, licking your lips and shaking your head. His eyes were now well adjusted to the scarce light. Just the silver through the trees was enough to read and inspect your pretty face.
“It went off the rails.”
He shrugged, staring back. “It seemed like it needed to.”
“I made you part of it.”
“I made myself part of it.”
“But, I mean—just—if you… if you never…”
Wonwoo raised his eyebrow. “If I never what? Met you?”
Puffing out a long breath, you looked down, picking at something on the boulder with a manicured nail. “… Yeah.”
“No,” Wonwoo was firm to correct, continuing to stare at you intensely even if you couldn’t face him in the turmoil of processing all the emotion and chaos, “you’re the best thing to ever happen to me.”
You lolled out your tongue, smiling and sheepish. “Blah.”
He laughed, “I mean it.”
Sighing again, you glanced back at Wonwoo, your eyes flickering along his every detail in the dewy night. Your hand reached out to his collar, making another brief, probably unnecessary adjustment to it before sliding the gentle fingers down his chest. Wonwoo’s mouth ran disgustingly dry in that moment, to the point that he was relieved when you removed your hand because you might have felt how fast his heart was beating and thought him to be quite pathetic.
Tightly swallowing, he brushed an itch off his nose and opened his mouth with a question, his gaze catching yours. Although, at the last second, he weened himself from speaking when the doubt found and froze him. A breeze tickled through his hair and Wonwoo shivered.
Your brow furrowed.
“What?” You urged him.
Wonwoo chuckled. “Fuck. Nothing.”
“Not nothing. Please. What is it?”
You were leaning closer into him, enthralling him with those earnest, gleaming eyes. He swore the nighttime wind was pushing your sweet, blossomy scent against him—was pushing you against him—because now your thigh was squished right beside his and your shoulders were warm together. Wonwoo adjusted his glasses, cleared his throat.
“Who are you?” He paused, but didn’t falter. “Actually?”
Your forehead wrinkled. “What do you mean?”
Wonwoo examined every aspect of your face that he had come to know so well over the months—the face he gradually couldn’t stop thinking about, to the point you would appear in his dreams. The face he was once completely disinterested in, because you were not someone that should have any reason to be in his life, just as he had no reason to be in yours. He felt his body move closer into your inviting warmth.
In fact, you two were so close that if he moved even an inch or few forward, then his lips might find themselves pressing to yours and his hand might settle and smooth up along your thigh to your cheek. Then, it would be impossible to leave the footpath without digging into you right then and there, kissing and tasting from you everywhere.
“What’s your name?”
It sounded like an obvious, warranted question that just about anyone would ask given the opportunity. But Wonwoo had never found himself wondering it. The things he wondered about you were much different and more character-driven, yet Wonwoo had come to realize that your name was just as important and precious and intact with your identity as everything else. He almost felt like it was the very last piece of you that he hadn’t shifted into place—his last chapter in a very long, complicated, topsy-turvy, seemingly-never-ending book.
Wonwoo thought you might laugh at him.
Tell him, “Wouldn’t you like to know?” in that very smug tone of voice he’d hear from time to time while smiling hot with your secret.
Instead, however, you just stayed silent.
His hand touched with fragile softness at the edge of your face, a thumb then stroking along the space before your ear as you swallowed.
“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,” he whispered, hearing the leaves rustle above him, “it’s fine either—”
“No, one second.”
Wonwoo bit his tongue, opting to watch you lean back while digging fingers into the cleavage of your dress. From somewhere—he could only surmise—you had pulled out a thin tube with a cherry lid.
“Was that the lip stuff you put on?” He snorted.
“Lip liner. With a sticky patch on it right here. Figured I should keep it close. You know, in case a crumb managed to remove a single spec of it. Can't have my mother passing out from shame.”
“Clever thinking.”
“Give me your hand.”
Stretching out his fingers, he let his hand sit in your lap while you pulled the lid off with your teeth, then gripping his wrist and halfway leaning down to push the tip of the lip applicator against his palm. The sensation was cool and smooth. He felt each letter you traced, though he refused to let himself guess until you were done.
Under the moonlight, Wonwoo raised the calligraphed hand to his face, pushing up his glasses as he realized—at last—the complete gist of who you were. And with your name came the understanding of what you were, in fact, doing in his very meaningless life.
Wonwoo kept staring fondly at his hand. But, as he was staring, you suddenly reached forth and smeared your thumb across the neat letters until they were lost. A memory made, and then covered.
Only between you.
When Wonwoo looked to you again, he saw everything about you so clearly that it was almost shining. Every decision you made, every word you said, the way you walked and dressed and flourished so openly before crashing so hard—Wonwoo could snap all those pieces into place.
“Can I ask you something?” You said.
He blinked at you absentmindedly, too caught up in his daze.
“Wonwoo?”
“Sorry—yeah?”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
Pressing your knees together, the wind fluttered the fabric of your silky olive dress, and he could tell you were getting cold.
“When you were at my apartment, apologizing to me about our fight, that was the first and only time I ever heard you mention your ex-girlfriend.” Clicking your nervous feet, you looked over his shadowy face and the moonlight dancing in his glasses, “was she your first love?”
Crushing his hands tight into each other, Wonwoo bit his lip. “Yeah.”
Keeping your eyeline steady, you nodded. “Was she… like… what did you love about her?”
He almost couldn’t breathe. “Everything.”
You frowned. “Even the bad stuff?”
“Yeah…” he mumbled, “even the bad stuff.”
It was very quiet for a moment, with you simply sitting in reflection and staring into the dark silhouettes of the trees. He was sure you already knew the answer to your initial question, although he understood that hearing him say it was different than infinitely assuming about a past that wasn’t yours. Wonwoo had been in love before, and then heartbroken down into little fragments of himself that he spent months soullessly dusting around. And somehow, he was in love again—a new love that felt so much different but still fit him so right.
“Hm…” you hummed.
Wonwoo placed his hand on your bare back, beginning to sweep his fingers up and down, sensing your skin quiver in response.
“It’s late,” he whispered, nudging his knee into yours and warming your ear with his breath, “I know you don’t want to go home, and that’s alright. I get it. But we should figure something out before my phone battery dies, yeah?” He proceeded to grab your hand and squeeze it. “I don’t wanna leave a pretty girl like you out in the cold and wet.”
When you looked at him, you were pouting, exhaustion shining on your face like the dew in the moonlit leaves. “I don’t want to go anywhere without you.” Your fingers gripped his impossibly tighter.
“Do you want to stay the night at my place?”
You snuggled your head into the crook between his jaw and shoulder, wrapping your arms around his elbow to hold him close. “Yes.”
“Well, I’ve got one call,” Wonwoo sighed, fishing out his phone and squinting against its lurid light, “better hope he fucking answers.”
Vernon was confused to say the least, beckoned down a random street at near midnight when he could be in bed with the girl he was happily feeling up just half an hour ago, until a certain phone call ruined it. Wonwoo could tell from the manner in which his friend’s heavily furrowed brow remained creased when he opened the vanilla Camry’s back door, allowing you to slide in first with your heels in hand while Wonwoo followed. Tugging the door shut, Wonwoo could then only smile at poor, disgruntled, face-studded Vernon who was continuing to inquisitively stare him down through the rear-view mirror as though there was something smeared across his cheek or stuck in his hair.
Perhaps it was the patches of dampness and dirt on Wonwoo’s suit and your once very elegant dress, but it didn’t matter anymore.
“So… uh… dinner went well, then?” Vernon asked in a big huff after no one offered to break the silence, slightly turning his head to analyze the backseat using his busted, buzzing ceiling light.
Wonwoo and you were pressed together. Both unreceptive.
“Woah. Stop talking over each other, guys,” he joked dryly.
“Couldn’t have gone better,” Wonwoo decided to say.
“… M’kay…” Vernon replied, still perplexed but probably sensing it was best to save all the questions for later. “Music?”
Wonwoo nodded and turned off the ceiling light. “Sure.”
That was the beginning and end of the conversation.
Vernon pulled out from Hillcrest, keeping his elbow against the half-opened window during the drive, meanwhile you were allowing your heavy eyes to at last flutter shut. Leaning your head against Wonwoo’s broad shoulder, he noticed that your fingers were playing with his—you had gently grabbed his thumb and started rubbing his pigmented scar in absent circles, massaging into all the weathered years spent scratching himself until his anxiety would peddle away. The lip liner was still smudged against his palm in a cherry-tinted blur that he never wanted to wash off.
Smiling, Wonwoo let his cheek sit atop your hair, sensing the delightful breeze from Vernon's window flow into the backseat.
He was glad he went to the dinner party.
“Here are the keys. This copper one here is for the shop. This blue one is my apartment key. Go inside and get warmed up. I’ll join you in a few, alright? Promise… be careful on the steps,” Wonwoo instructed after opening the car door, proceeding to wrap his keychain in your fingers once you had emerged into the wind and sodden air.
With the white heels strung through your arm, you nodded at him sleepily and walked up the three little stairs to the pottery shop.
After you disappeared inside, Wonwoo turned around and opened the passenger seat door, climbing back into his friend’s Camry kept stalled but running at the curb. At first, there was silence between them. They both gazed down through the illumination of the headlights washing out the empty street. Vernon then slid his hand off the steering wheel, letting it cascade through his messy black hair instead.
“Do I even wanna know what fuckin’ happened?” His friend asked, his head clunking back against the upholstered seat.
Wonwoo blinked down at his lap. He started to smile, feeling it creep along his mouth even though he knew how suspect it looked.
Then, Wonwoo chuckled.
“We ran out.”
He finally looked to Vernon, who was staring back with highly quirked eyebrows and a dropped jaw. After exchanging an incredulous glance with each other, the two boys were laughing and ripping apart the silence. Vernon crossed his arms, sunk further down in his seat.
“Never would I picture you doin’ that…” he said through a lazy grin, “runnin’ out with another dude’s girl is insane, can’t lie.”
Wonwoo rubbed a palm along his cheek, still fucking smiling. “Think he’s gonna beat my ass?”
Vernon stared at him, deadpanned in his expression. “Is that even a question, Glasses? I’d beat your ass. I don’t even have a girl.”
“I don’t care.”
“If he beats your ass?”
“Yeah.”
Suddenly, a hand was pushing against Wonwoo’s shoulder. Vernon was smirking at him hard, teething over his bottom lip.
“Damn. She’s got you by the scruff, huh?”
Wonwoo shrugged, beginning to shake his head. “You should see the way he treats her… there’s some weird ties between him and her family. I think he’s playing the long game… getting what we can while he can and then parading her around as a trophy or something. But she's miserable with him.” Running a thumb along his knuckles, Wonwoo grinned. “He can beat my ass if he wants to.”
Vernon clicked his tongue. “Well, just to float the idea, I’m s—”
“No,” quickly laughing away his friend’s questionable response, Wonwoo merely rubbed under his glasses and refused. “I’m not trying to get locked away for first degree murder. And neither are you.”
“I’m just tryin’ to say I’ve got you is all,” Vernon said with his usual nonchalance, as laid back as an ironing board, “but—you’re right. Save that for when I’m an actual drug lord. He’s not gettin’ anything from me. Not even a Flintstone gummy.”
“Well, I appreciate the favour. Sorry to interrupt.”
“Nah, I could tell it was somethin’ important,” Vernon excused, giving Wonwoo a comfortable smile, “s’not like I can’t ever get brain again. Your situation seemed like a once-in-a-lifetime thing.”
Looking back at the pottery shop and the single light within keeping everything aglow, Wonwoo wondered if you made it into his apartment okay. He was worried about leaving you on your own for too long, especially when taking into consideration the extremities of the dinner party (that hadn’t really been a dinner or a party when he thought about it). Rolling out his shoulders, he turned to Vernon again.
“She needs to eat something. I’ll order food. You want any?”
Vernon scrunched his face. “What—you’re askin’ me to come inside with you two? I’m not on real good terms with her, y’know that, right? Just ‘cause she’s fuckin’ with you doesn’t mean that for me."
“It won’t be like that.”
“How do y’know? You guys gossip about me?”
Wonwoo smiled, pushing up his glasses. “I just know.”
Vernon paused to think for a moment, his hand returned back to the steering wheel while sharp teeth pulled at the skin along his bottom lip. With just the edge to his face streaked in yellow light from the outside street lamp, it was difficult to interpret his mindset, although Wonwoo knew it was a done deal when Vernon removed the glittering keys from the ignition and the rumbling car at last went silent along the empty midnight street.
Besides, Wonwoo would pay for it all, anyway.
Vernon quietly trailed behind Wonwoo into the apartment, the front door left unlocked and the living area bathed by the warm-coloured light fixture but absent of your presence. His friend placed the car keys onto the coffee table with an uncharacteristic softness, and Wonwoo figured that Vernon was probably still feeling uncertain about spending time with you—which made sense—the last time Vernon had spoken to you (spoken probably wasn’t an accurate word) was the confrontation at the gas station where he feared you might light his hair on fire.
Though, when Wonwoo poked open his ajar bedroom door, he found you standing near his desk, peering across the walled corkboard and all its pinned photos from his life back in South Korea.
He flicked on the light, pulling out the deep blue darkness from the air, and smiled at you.
“Everything alright?”
With your arms folded, you seemed smaller than usual. “Yeah—sorry that I came in here without permission.”
He was quick to shake his head. “No big deal—you don’t need permission.”
You were silent for a few seconds, grinning to yourself, and then gestured to one of the glossy developed photos stuck to the cork.
“That’s Bohyuk?”
Wonwoo nodded, “yeah.”
He realized you hadn’t spent much time in his room over the months that you’d known each other. For the most part, Wonwoo would always be at your apartment, or some unique location necessary to your story-telling when he was still helping with the book. At one point it would have perturbed him to see you gazing along the finer details of his room so curiously. Now, however, he welcomed it.
Stuffing hands into his pockets, Wonwoo let you observe the corkboard, watching you with a very amorous, kind smile that he hadn’t even processed until his cheeks started flaring with a heated ache.
“Wonwoo?”
“Yeah?”
“… I’m hungry.”
Unable to flatten out his smile, Wonwoo walked over to you and smoothed his hand along the side of your face, then caressing his thumb underneath your twinkling eye and against your cheekbone.
“I know,” he murmured, “I’ll order food.”
“Chinese?”
“If that’s what you want, then I’ll make it happen.”
Delighted to see your expression brighten, Wonwoo at last removed his hand from your skin. He knew he shouldn’t touch you or look so fucking pathetically in-love into your eyes, but he didn’t care.
“Do you think I can shower? I want to take all this makeup off.”
“Yeah, of course. Go for—”
Suddenly, from the living room, there was a loud bang that distinctly sounded like Vernon plowing straight into something heavy.
“What was that?” You asked, covering your mouth.
Wonwoo chuckled, “Vernon. Hey—you alright?!”
“All good!!” His friend shouted back. “Just—how ‘bout don’t keep your fuckin’ weights right beside the couch, yeah? Almost broke my fuckin’ foot!”
“Oops.” Wonwoo shrugged very unapologetically, staring into your amused eyes and giggling together. “He’s gonna eat with us… he did a big favour coming down to get us and everything, you know?”
“That’s okay,” you answered, “I just want to shower.”
“Yeah, that’s fine. I’ll give you the room. Wear whatever you want. I’ll just take the keys so I can lock up downstairs.” He was nearly on his way out, but stopped abruptly. “Should we… uh… should I at least text Seokmin and tell him you’re safe? I mean, just in case—”
“Sure,” the response was quick and muttered with little care, “I’m sure they can surmise where I am, but you can do that, too.”
“Yeah, okay… well, I’ll leave you be. Food will probably be here by the time you’re out and dried off. I’ll make sure it doesn’t get cold.”
Finally, Wonwoo clicked his bedroom door shut. Keys in hand, he re-entered the living room to find Vernon plumped down on the couch with a pillow in his lap, all spread out like he owned the damn place, texting away on his phone. Wonwoo laughed as he walked by.
“Writing out your apology letter?”
“Somethin’ like that…” his friend mumbled, clearly more focused on his pixeled screen, “I might not be gettin’ that head after all.”
“Life’s all about sacrifices,” Wonwoo sighed while opening the front door, pausing briefly to mention, “we’re getting Chinese food by the way. She didn’t care that you’re staying. Anything you want?”
Vernon smiled while keeping his eyes trained to the phone. “No way. That’s a relief… n’yeah—I like the chicken balls with the sweet and sour sauce. Pork-fried rice is good, too. I’m not picky.”
“Noted.”
“So—wait—I have to ask, and you can tell me to fuck off if you want, but how did you become a drug dealer? Like, at what point did you even realize that was your… I don’t know… calling?”
Sitting cross-legged on the carpet with a carton of noodles in hand and a napkin splayed upon your bare lap, pointed chopsticks were being angled at Vernon from across the coffee table. He took a sip from his can of bright red soda, placing it back onto the coaster with a thud.
“Uh, fuck,” Vernon coughed, smiling subtly while beginning to pick through his own personal container of pork-fried rice, “well, I can answer it, I guess… do I get to ask a question in return?”
You grabbed the napkin, wiping off the sauce from your mouth.
“I’ll allow it.”
“Fair enough,” his friend answered.
Wonwoo had heard the story only once before during a smoke session on the apartment rooftop, though he doubted Vernon would trudge through all the details. Despite seeming like an open book who couldn't care less, there really were some sweet spots he didn’t like having prodded. Nonetheless, Wonwoo thought it was a good, earnest opening between the two of you, so he opted to stay silent while pulling the meat off his ribs with his teeth.
“Uh, I was a stubborn kid, let’s say that. Tried my hand at school but I could never get the hang of it. Could never keep a job long. My parents caught me usin’ once, weed and ecstasy, and they said if it happened again, I’m out.” Vernon fed himself another forkful of rice, taking a moment to swallow while you listened intently. “I thought I could keep it straight, but no luck. Yeah. They had no tolerance for it. I was out the next day. My mom was the most pissed, but she tries to reach out every now and then. I dunno... I feel done with ‘em, if I'm bein' honest. I’ve got somethin’ that works so I just run with it. The money speaks for itself so I can’t complain.”
As Wonwoo expected, it was the heavily watered-down version of everything that happened between Vernon and his family, however, it was enough to paint the picture. Taking a moment to slurp up some spicy noodles, you soon set the carton down and patted along your gradually swelling lips. The crumpled napkin was placed on the table.
“Yeah, I bet the money speaks for itself. You’ve got a bunch of stupidly rich university students on your roster. They go through just about everything they can get their hands on. It’s fucking insane.”
Vernon propped his elbows onto his knees, gathering more rice onto the plastic white fork while smirking at you knowingly.
“You’ve got that coke sniff, y’know?”
Wonwoo widened his eyes at Vernon, suspecting a wildfire.
But you merely shrugged, quite honest in your response.
“I know. I did it once with Mingyu, some friends, and I thought never again…” with a sigh, you massaged at your shoulder, staring off into a random spot that Wonwoo couldn’t pinpoint. “Mingyu was getting it for me at almost every party we went to. I don’t know. I thought, since he paid for it, since it’s right here, I might as well do it.”
Slipping the fork out from his mouth, Vernon grinned. “Coked-up sex is crazy. Especially when you've got the right cut. It hits.”
“Vernon,” Wonwoo immediately chirped at him while setting down his emptied container of food, his voice sounding particularly stern, like he was scolding a child for making an ignorant comment.
“What?” His friend laughed, raking a tattooed hand through his loose and shiny black hair. “It is. Feels like you’re on another planet.”
“Yeah, whatever. Just think a little before you speak, please.”
Again, Wonwoo was surprised to see your nonchalance.
“It’s okay. I know what you’re saying. I think… like… Mingyu only wanted me to have it for that reason—I’m making it sound like some non-consensual, pressured shit—it’s not,” you muttered, waving around your hand in dismissal, “I just… the thing is I don’t like how I feel afterward. But it was never enough for me to say that I didn’t want it. I liked that it would take me out of my head for a bit. My mind would stop running on overdrive.” Then, you pulled your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them. “The last time I did anything like that was the party at Seungcheol’s, though.”
Whenever the party was mentioned, Wonwoo would always bite down on his lip and tightly curl his fingers. He had discussed it with you in the past, beyond the summer evening spent at your apartment with a red velvet cupcake in between you and a painful, aching hug he could still feel all the warmth and regret to.
There were long, long phone conversations. And somewhere, stuffed in his mind, was the memory of you and Mingyu behind the door as he listened to every little sound—skin hitting skin, the desperation in your voice, wood smacking the wall.
“Yeah, is what it is,” Vernon replied. He pulled a toothpick out from his pocket and stuck it in his mouth. “Do I get my question now?”
“Uh… sure.”
Wonwoo had almost missed you staring at him. There was a concernedness to it, but when he smiled back you seemed to breathe.
“Still think I’m a gigantic fuckin’ tool?”
Immediately, you started laughing. Wonwoo followed suit, on the brink of embarrassingly blowing out the soda he just sipped from in a big spray. He was actually quite relived that Vernon had picked a more light-hearted question rather than something intimate. His friend swirled the toothpick around with his tongue, continuing to smirk in confidence.
“Giggle away. I’m curious, is all.”
Kissing your teeth, you held Vernon’s coppery, honey eyes. “You are a tool, one-hundred percent… but, I think you know that about yourself. And, um, you’re a good friend to Wonwoo. So… I guess my opinions about you have shifted. Appearances are deceiving.”
Pleased with your candour, Vernon grabbed his drink, leaned against the recliner behind him, and nodded his head approvingly.
“That tickles my fancy well enough.”
"Don't you think you'll want to settle down eventually?" You asked.
Vernon scrunched his eyebrow. "What?"
"Like, what if you find a girl. A really nice girl who could change your perspective. Do you think you'd want to settle down?"
With a quick laugh, Vernon shook his head. "Nice girls don't use half their last pay check to buy drugs. It's business at the end of the day."
Seeming skeptical, your eyes narrowed. "Right..."
"Vernon has his mind set on very specific things," Wonwoo smiled.
Straightening out the large shirt that draped around your frame—another garment belonging to Wonwoo that you had pulled from his dresser—you glanced between each boy and smiled.
“So... now I'm curious. How did this unlikely pairing meet?”
As Vernon was busy with navigating his toothpick, Wonwoo decided to tell the story, prompting him to sit up straight and alleviate his spine from being crooked against the hard bottom of the couch.
“I was convinced into attending a little New Year’s Eve party thing by these guys I don’t talk to anymore. Spent about half an hour wandering the halls, doing aimless laps, hating every second of it, debating if I should just take off. Not like anyone would notice. Then I bump into this guy—” Wonwoo nodded at Vernon, “—who was all tattooed and pierced up with this girl all over him. She was on the kitchen counter, one hand gripping his bicep while she was laying hickies to his fucking neck from behind.”
You snorted, rolling your eyes. “Who was that?”
Wonwoo shrugged. “Fuck if I know. Vernon?”
“Uh—I don’t know if I remember, honestly. She used to buy poppers off me like every damn week so I called her Poppy. That’s not her real name, though. She’s long gone. Moved cities months ago.”
“Yeah, well, he told me I looked like a lost ghost. Asked if I wanted a swisher. I agreed for some reason, and we went out back.”
Brushing a hand down your neck, you giggled. “A lost ghost?”
Vernon nodded, folding his arms.
“Yeah. Glasses always used to have that look to him. Dead man walkin’ kinda thing. Just wanderin’ around with no purpose.”
Wonwoo hoarsely chuckled at his friend, “jeez—thanks.”
“You can’t deny it.”
“I know. But to be fair, I was fucking going through something.”
“Mmhm, that’s why I took you under my wing,” Vernon sang, his eyes swimming with their usual gold-tinted mischief, “I could just tell you needed some guidance. Gave him the swisher of eternal friendship.”
“Is that what you call it?” Wonwoo huffed sarcastically.
“I call it many different things.”
You smiled sweetly at Wonwoo while your fingers played with the long cuff on the borrowed t-shirt. “Whatever it was, I guess it turned into something pretty good... and, Vernon, I am sorry for how I acted at the gas station. There was just a lot going through my mind.”
True to his casual, untroubled nature, Vernon swung his head dismissively while letting an arm collapse across his knee, the toothpick now in his hand and being spun between his ringed fingers. “No, you’re good. Don't worry 'bout it. It was just ‘cause you care n' shit. I get that.” Quirking his expression in an endearing manner, he proceeded to flash you a solid grin. “You didn’t singe my hair off so, I’ve got no grudge.”
You laughed, “I wouldn’t have actually done anything to you.”
“Eh, it’s hard to tell, isn’t it?” Vernon answered in a smirk.
Reaching for your drink, you sipped from it and then snuggled the can between your criss-crossed legs. Wonwoo examined that very intriguing smile opening its way across your mouth like a spring blossom, wanting to know the exact moment that sparked it.
A quiet pause passed, and then you were sighing with bliss behind it—that relaxed kind of sigh when everything seemed to click.
“It’s nice hanging out with you guys…” you murmured, staring across the coffee table scattered with ripped-open sauce packets, empty cardboard containers, wood chopsticks, and unfurling napkins. “It just feels lighter… I don’t know… making friends has always been so tough for me. The right friends, I mean. Friends that actually feel like friends.”
Wonwoo pinched his lip in his teeth.
“It can take a while before you hit the right people.”
Vernon shrugged, concealing a burp that had him rubbing down his broad chest. “If we’re all friends, then we’ve gotta be the weirdest fuckin’ collaboration of people I’ve ever seen.”
You snickered into your hands while Wonwoo lounged an elbow onto the couch to help prop up his head, rolling his eyes toward Vernon.
Though, Wonwoo could easily understand what Vernon was getting at. You, a popular and high-fashion campus honorary who at first glance seemed to have very little patience for anyone but yourself, followed by the guttural and unbothered drug dealer without a care in the world, beside an anxiety-ridden hermit just trying to exist and somehow not turn to a puddle in the process. Vernon was right—it was a strange grouping of people suckled together despite their completely different paths and choices. Somewhere, somehow, though, there was a connection.
Like a fated string weaving everything into a knot.
Since Wonwoo had already ordered the Chinese food fairly late, it was quite difficult to find an ice cream place in the area that was open past midnight. Vernon and his sudden craving for cookie dough had offered the idea, and you easily caved, which led Wonwoo on a spiral of searching through his phone. Unfortunately, the only ice cream they could order was vanilla soft-serve cones from a twenty-four-hour fast-food chain which arrived to his apartment dripping. But no one really cared, and Wonwoo threw on the television for some background noise.
The conversations lasted until about two in the morning.
Vernon had not so gracefully taken up the entire couch, his face shoved into the embroidered pillow, an arm left dangling limp over the edge, and a smear of soft-serve dried to his cheek. You and Wonwoo were sitting side by side on the floor, a blanket spread around your shoulders with your knee spilled onto his lap, attempting to finish up the random movie that he couldn’t even remember playing. When the credits began rolling, it took him a moment to process that the drama flick was even over. Your head was tucked against his shoulder, eyes shut but still twitching against the dull, meek light flooding from the screen.
He placed his hand on your bare thigh, fingers stretching eager over the warm and soft skin to carefully grip it and give you a squeeze.
Then, with his lips feathering at your forehead, he mumbled your name to get you awake. Wonwoo did feel somewhat guilty about stirring you, but he’d rather you have a comfortable sleep on his bed than the living room floor. He continued to rub your thigh nice and slow, watching your eyelids flicker open and squint at him through the dark room. There was a shallow grin that you gave him, full of contentment.
“You’re all fuzzy…” you yawned, proceeding to rub at your eye.
“It’s late,” he answered quietly, almost whispering, “I think I should get you to bed. You’ll be much comfier in my room.”
“Is Vernon asleep?”
“Mmhm.”
Turning back to glance at the couch, you yawned again.
“… Oh… so, we’re going to your room?”
“Yeah… c’mon, I’ll help you up.”
Wonwoo didn’t turn on the light in his bedroom since there was already a small separation in the curtains, allowing just the right amount of moonlight through to outline everything around him in bluish-silver.
You sat down on his bed, letting your fingers travel along the sheets to feel all the slight rumples and divots, only to look up at Wonwoo with a tired smile and sincere, blinking, gorgeous eyes that felt akin to a gut punch. As much as he wanted it—needed it—Wonwoo knew that he couldn’t sleep next to you. He couldn’t trust himself. He couldn’t fathom having you so fucking close in the intimate, cocooning darkness and not being able to squeeze his cold hands along every perfect part of you.
But you weren’t making it easy.
In fact, you were making it excruciatingly hard.
“Are you not going to lie down with me?”
Wonwoo felt the twig snap in his chest. You wouldn’t stop staring up at him through those wispy eyelashes and nibbling on your lip.
“I’ve got the recliner in the living room…” he could hardly choke it out. There was so much heat in his body that he could melt.
“Why sleep there? The bed is big enough.”
His deep voice twisted into a laugh he couldn’t avoid. “Yeah, the bed’s not the issue… uh, it’s fine, though. The recliner’s nice.”
He took a step back, but then you had grabbed his wrist.
“Wonwoo,” you said his name in a tender, breathy, desperate sort of way that sent his heart shattering to his feet, your eyes glistening through the sparse light like two comets, “I don’t want to sleep alone.”
Fuck—it was all he could think—fuck, fuck, fuck.
With your fingers still wrapped to his wrist, Wonwoo pushed his hand gently against the side of your face. He was closer to you now, applying a soft pressure to angle your head up at him. You were breathing thick per every second that passed, holding his eye contact without one fracture, smiling arch. Wonwoo wanted to drink you.
Leaning into his palm, you swallowed and squeaked, “please?”
His thumb was on your chin. Right under your bottom lip.
“Fuck, you can't look at me like that…” Wonwoo rasped in a low, hushed voice that was struggling not to crack.
Truly, he meant it.
Your hand slid further along his wrist, almost tickling him.
“Ple—”
Immediately, Wonwoo pressed his thumb past your bottom lip and onto the ridge of your lower teeth, stifling that dangerous little word before it could hit his ear the wrong way and render him spineless.
“No more, okay?” He murmured, slowly sliding the digit from your warm, damp mouth, feigning obliviousness to your thighs clamping together and the manner in which your fingernails dug at his skin.
There was another moment of intense, humid silence while he wiped the wetness against the edge of your jaw.
“Seriously,” Wonwoo firmed up his voice, “no more.”
When you at last seemed compliant, nodding, Wonwoo let his hand drift from your heated-up face. You stayed in place, quiet as ever, on the edge of his bed, watching him disappear through the doorway.
As he collapsed onto the recliner and pulled the blanket once pooled on the floor over his body, Wonwoo didn’t even bother shutting his eyes or removing his glasses. Instead, he stared up at the popcorn ceiling, letting his heart thump, thump, thump and his mind wander until he naturally couldn’t fight the imminent feeling of sleep.
It certainly didn’t help that you had wandered into his dreams—dreams that he should probably keep to himself, warped fully by desire and longing.
—END OF PART FIVE.
#seventeen scenarios#wonwoo scenarios#seventeen x reader#wonwoo x reader#seventeen imagines#wonwoo imagines#seventeen fanfic#wonwoo fanfic#svt fanfic#jeon wonwoo#svt scenarios#seventeen angst#seventeen smut
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NOW LIVE: IN A TRANCE feat. e. jaeger
SUMMARY: eren feels like you have him in in a trance
CONTENT WARNINGS: college! plug! eren x fem! reader, smut, mdni, college au, smoking weed, reader has piereced nipples and belly piercing, dub con (both eren & reader are high), neck kissing/sucking, nipple play, oral (f. receiving), face sitting, hand job, pussy drunk eren, nickname (pretty girl), slight dirty talk, wc. 1,957
Eren Jaeger was the well know dealer around the campus, even having some clients that didn't attend the university. So it shouldn't have surprised him when it's you walking out of the apartment building he was sitting in front of waiting to make a delivery.
He had received a text earlier that day from someone saying they needed weed to help them relieve some stress from exams, and the person didn't live far, just on the opposite side of his apartment complex, so he didn't mind driving. Now seeing that it was you he was texting, he felt his heartbeat pick up the closer you got to his car.
From the moment he saw you on campus you've had him under your spell. Every time he would pass you on campus or see you at a party, it was like he was in a movie scene where the girl has a light from heaven shining on her and everything else around her was blurry.
Sometimes his jaw would fall open, Armin wiping the side of his mouth while saying, "Close up pretty boy, you're drooling." The comment making Jean and Connie laugh also adds to the teasing, resulting in Eren punching both boys in the arm and muttering a 'shut up.'
You clouded his thoughts, even when you weren't around somehow, distracting him while doing homework, playing the game, hanging out with friends, and even smoking. Just from locking eyes with you for one second, you were all this man could think about.
Hearing a knock on his window pulls him out of his thoughts and he rolls the window down, greeting you with a smile.
"Thank you so much for doing this," holding out your hand to give him the $30, he counts it before handing you 15. "You said it was 30."
He shakes his head, handing you the small baggy, "New customer deal." He had never given a new customer a 50% off deal before, but for you, he made the exception.
"I appreciate that Eren," and then your face contorts into a small pout. "Uh...actually, do you think you could roll these for me? I've never rolled one before."
"Oh yeah, definitely," he holds his hand out for the bag.
"How about you come up to my apartment?" You put your hands on your face in embarrassment, laughing a little. "Sorry if I sound forward or weird, I just would rather you be comfortable since I'm making you do more work.
He agrees saying it's not weird and gets out of his car following you into the building. Opening the door to your apartment he's greeted with a warm scent of vanilla as he looks around. Your lights are dim, soft sounds of Rick and Morty playing on your tv that's mounted on a wall, and a few pictures of you with friends and family next to it.
You gesture for him to sit on your couch making room on the small table you had in front of it for him to use. You sat on the smaller sofa on the opposite side of the couch pulling your legs up to your chest.
"You a smoker?" he questions taking the weed out of the small baggy he had placing it in his grinder.
"Not really, I smoke at parties if my friends have some, but that's it," he nods, taking the weed out of the grinder and sprinkling it on the paper. "How long have you been dealing?"
Pursing his lips together, he looks up thinking, "About a year."
"Do you like it?" you question, head leaning against your arms.
"Yeah, it's not a hard job, drugs are always in demand, so I'll always have business," he explains. "and the pay is good."
Finishing up rolling your blunts, he smiles at you as he shows them to you, "Perfection."
"Thank you so much," you stand up, trying to hand him the other $15 but he puts his hand up stopping you.
"I told you, new customer deal," you follow him to your door, walking him out. "Text me if you need anything else."
Making it a weekly thing, you text him when you need some weed and he'll come up to your apartment to roll it for you. The more he comes over the more you two get to know each other, eventually asking him to just stay and smoke with you, since he was still giving you a discount even though you're not a new customer anymore.
You started inviting him to hang out at your place, not even wanting to smoke, just wanting to be around him. You would notice him just staring at you sometimes, snapping your fingers in his face and he'd just apologized with a laugh. It didn't bother you, not even close, it made you feel fuzzy all over, and you finally decided to ask him about it.
Your bedroom is filled with laughter and hip-hop playing softly in the background as you are both laid on your bed. His head felt fuzzy, you consuming his thoughts and he didn't even realize he was staring with a dopey grin on his face.
"Why do you do that?" you have the same dopey grin on your face as you're looking at him and Trance by Metro Boomin starts to play.
"Do what?" He raises his eyebrow nodding his head to the beat of the song.
"Stare at me. You do it a lot," you sit up against your bed frame, your hand scratching at his scalp. He had his hair in a bun, a few strands framing his face.
"I don't know . . . you're just pretty," he licks his lips, eyes still staring into yours.
"Shut up," you laugh and he closes his eyes, enjoying your fingers playing in his hair.
"I'm serious, you're so pretty," you don't say anything. You both just humming to the music.
"You know this song reminds me of you," you look down at him, his eyes still closed.
"Why's that?"
"Whenever I look at you, I feel like I'm in a trance," he moves his hand to run over your leg. "even randomly throughout the day I'll just start thinking about you."
You pushed his head to make him look away from you as your grinning, cheeks hurt, "That's just the weed talking."
"It's not, I swear," his eyes open. "The first time I saw you, way before I even brought you weed that first time, I felt like you were compelling me to just focus on you."
"You're so dramatic," you sigh head leaning back against the headboard.
"You were just so pretty, I couldn't even focus on anything else that day," he confessed. "Even after that, we never talked and you would randomly just pop up in my head."
You hid your face in his hand, giggling at his words, head feeling so hazy. Taking a peek at him from between your fingers, he lights the blunt that was sitting on your nightstand, and he just looks so good . . .
"Come here," he taps your thighs and you look at him confused cause you’re already so close. "Sit on my lap."
Without a second thought, you were straddling his lap, feeling his dick right against your thigh, and he lets out a small groan, as he is exhaling the smoke. His eyes are low and red, looking over your body. You're wearing a white camisole that stopped just above your belly piercing and black shorts that showed quite a bit of your ass.
His hand is rubbing your thigh, his lip caught between his teeth. Your hands go under his hoodie, lightly scraping your nails against his soft skin, licking your lips at how good he looks.
He's licking his dry lips as he's looking at you before taking another drag of the blunt. Grabbing your face he pulls you down so your lips are almost touching and he blows the smoke into your mouth while you inhale it. Closing the little space between you, your lips are pressed to his in a needy and heated kiss.
Hands comb through his hair as you're lightly grinding against him, needing to ease the sensation between your legs. He puts the bunt in the ashtray then both of his hands go down to your ass, groping and helping you grind against him. Your both moaning in each other's mouth, whiny breaths.
"Want you to sit on my face," he says between kisses with a smile. You peck his lips a few more times before crawling up his body so you're clothed pussy is hovering over his face. Using his index finger, he slides your shorts over revealing your glistening cunt. He nudged your clit with his nose, inhaling your scent, then blowing his breath on the nub watching you shiver.
Being impatient you sit down on his face and he hums burring his face between your thighs, tongue greedily lapping at your wet folds. You're grabbing onto the headboard, moans slipping from your lips, as he's flicking his tongue against your clit.
He's so loud as he slurps your essence from your dripping hole, feeling it clench around nothing against his lips. You're whimpering his name, fingers tugging at his brown locks, eyes looking down to meet his. "Taste . . so good," he's so pussy drunk already, loud moans vibrating against your lower lips.
Grinding your little puffy nub into his nose, his tongue slides into your drooling hole, penetrating it, feeling you squeeze his pink muscle. He's watching your eyes screwed shut, jaw slack, and head falling back.
He has the perfect few of your pebbled nipples poking through your shirt, as your chest rises and falls, the more you hump his face, "So pretty—riding my face."
You reach behind you rubbing your hand against his bulge and he's instantly grinding against it, so needy to be touched. You push his sweatpants down with the help of him raising his hips, and his dick flings out free. You give him a few pumps before spitting in your hand and stroking him again, "Ah—fuck."
He's so messy eating your pussy, nose and chin sticky with your arousal, desperately slurping at your pussy, the sounds getting louder and filthier, as your thighs twitch around his head. He's moaning and groaning, at the taste of your pussy and how good your hand feels wrapped around his dick.
Your legs are growing tired, shamelessly humping his face, feeling your orgasm almost hit its peak, "Gonna . . cum Eren."
His eyes are rolling back, mumbling something incoherent into your pussy as his hips are stuttering into your hand. He slides his hands from your ass up to your nipples, pinching and pulling at the buds, as you start to twist your wrist and squeeze his tip as you stroked his cock.
Holding his head still with the grip you had on his now messy bun, you feel your orgasm crash over you with a few screams of Eren's name, and he's following right behind you. Globs of cum coating your hand and his lower stomach, your hand still moving helping him ride out his orgasm.
When you both come down from your highs, you're sitting back on his thighs, Eren's face is glistening with your arousal, licking his lips savoring your taste. With a lazy grin on your face, you lean down giving him sloppy kisses, tasting yourself on his lips with a moan, "Taste so sweet, pretty girl."
Kissing down your neck to your chest, he's sucking on one of your nipples, tongue darting out licking around the cold metal hearts, while his fingers play with the other one, "Can I taste you again?"
©HANNSDIARY 2023 | all rights reserved. please don’t copy, steal, modify, or repost my work on other sites.
#♰ : 𝐇𝓐𝐍𝐍𝓢𝐃𝐈𝓐𝐑𝓨 !#♰ : 𝓔𝐑𝓔𝐍 𝐉𝓔𝐀𝐆𝓔𝐑 !#plug!eren x reader#plug!eren#plug!eren x black reader#plug!eren x black fem reader#eren jaeger x black reader smut#eren jaeger x reader#eren jaeger x you#eren jaeger x y/n#attack on titan x reader#attack on titan x black reader#attack on titan x female reader#aot x you#aot x female reader#aot x black reader#aot x reader#aot x y/n#aot smut#aot eren smut#eren jeager smut#eren x you#eren x reader#eren x black reader#eren x black y/n#eren x black fem!reader#aot x reader smut#eren x reader smut#eren yaeger x reader#eren yaeger smut
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Hey! I was wondering if you could write a little smutty/angsty something for Neil Lewis. Maybe bestfriend!reader, who recently got with some other man, and Neil is incredibly jealous and maybe... possessive. 👀 Some angst heated argument finished with a smut would be lovely. 🤭
Thank you!
Of course, of course!
Thank you for your request!
You're The Only One Who Makes Me Feel Alive || Neil Lewis x Reader
warnings: Smut, angst, best friends to lovers, swearing, slight (?) drug use (marijuana), jealousy, unprotected P in V, Neil is quite obsessed with reader's boobs (because c'mon, NEIL IS A BOOB MAN!!!) like sort of switch!neil but not quite, adult content!
18+ Minors DNI
It was a slow Friday night at Gumshoe Video. You had closed by now, though. You sat between Lucien and Jonathan, a bit stoned, and watched some horrible Horror-Parody film called 'Bad Taste'. You had zoned out, drowning out Jonathan and Lucien's incessant bickering about the film and whether it was good or bad.
"-It's Peter Jackson, for Christ's sake. It's a masterpiece of its time or whatever," Lucien argued. Jonathan just scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "It's supposed to be ridiculous!" Lucien protested.
"Are we watching the same movie?" Jonathan grunted with a hint of amusement. "How the hell did someone see this and think... 'yeah, that's the guy we're getting for Lord of the fucking Rings'!"
Lucien quipped back something particularly witty and sarcastic, but it all turned into one big blur of words to you. You were incredibly bored and stoned that none of what was happening on the TV screen made sense. You looked like a zombie, lips parted and an expression of awe on your face.
"Not this stupid movie," You heard the sound of Neil's voice from behind you. Quickly sitting up and turning to look at him, like an expectant dog when its owner comes home. "I've got the snacks if you guys even care." Lucien and Jonathan grumble their words of appreciation while you just sat and smiled at your best friend.
You all had smoked together, but you hadn't really prepared for the munchies that would come along with it. So you flipped a coin, and poor little Neil was the one who had to go to the nearest convenience store and buy as much junk food as he could carry. Two seafoam green plastic grocery bags were hanging off of Neil's sturdy forearms that said 'Recycle Me!' on them while he stood, smiling back at you.
"What'd you get Neily-poo?" You hummed, standing up and approaching him.
"I hate it when you call me that," Neil grumbled before handing you one of the bags. "I just got all the classic snacks... Cheetos, Twizzlers, Lucien's favorite white chocolate... and of course, I got your favorite..."
You squealed out of delight, lunging on Neil and wrapping your arms around him. "Did you really?" You said, pulling away with your arms still around his neck. Neil hummed while pulling the familiar mouth-watering box of Swedish Fish out of the grocery bag.
You properly pulled away now and snatched it out of his hand greedily. "Hey...! Wait... where's my thanks?" He tilted his head, tapping his pointer finger on the apple of his cheek. You rolled your eyes playfully before placing a grateful peck on his cheek.
You two sat on the spare couch together. You leaned against Neil, as you always do, your head on his chest and his arm wrapped around you. It had always been that way with you two, both very physically affectionate with each other. Though not when Neil was in a relationship, you knew how threatened his girlfriends felt by you, though you never understood why... Neil was always insistent on how you were just a friend, even going as far as to say you were like a sister to him.
When the movie ended and Neil had a bit more to smoke, you all sat around munching on your snacks, thinking of what to do next.
"Do you guys wanna come over to my place, and we can do this again tomorrow night?" Neil asked, scratching at his chin.
"Sure, I'd love that, dude," Jonathan nodded before popping a handful of peanut M&M's into his mouth. "Sounds great." He said with his mouth full.
"Gross!" You scolded, throwing a piece of popcorn at him. "Don't eat with your mouth full..."
"What did you just say?" Lucien laughed.
"I mean... don't talk with your mouth full!" You corrected, and everyone sat around giggling at that. "You knew what I meant!" Your cheeks heated up with embarrassment at your mistake.
"...and yeah, I'll come over tomorrow night." Lucien said to Neil. Neil gave him a thumbs up before turning his head over to you.
"How about you, Y/N?" Neil hummed, sighing as he leaned his head against the couch, cheek smushing a bit as he smiled softly down at you. He's so pretty, I just wanna kiss him, You thought."You wanna come over?" Yikes, you thought. You bit your lip and sucked in a breath. "Well... I... well... actually, I've got plans tomorrow, guys... I'm sorry." You shrugged apologetically.
"What?" Jonathan murmured, mouth still full, chewing obnoxiously loud.
"Since when do you have plans?" Lucien remarked. You gave him a dry smile.
"I'm going on a date... believe it or not," You snorted, looking down at your lap, embarrassed to admit. You never really talked about your love life with the guys, especially not Neil. Things always got awkward. Neil never discussed his with you either; you'd only briefly meet his girlfriends, and then that was it. You didn't understand why it had to be so awkward between you when discussing dating.
The room went silent at that. You looked towards Neil, his arm retracted away from you and tucked back into his side as you noticed the frown on his face. You could see the look on Jonathan and Lucien's faces, eyes flickering between the two of you, trying to gauge some sort of reaction.
"Oh..." Neil mumbled, sounding disappointed, popping a popcorn kernel into his mouth and chewing dryly. "Good for you... congratulations..."
"We're not getting married," You laughed uncomfortably. "Plus, I doubt it's gonna be anything that special... we're going to some downtown dive bar to have drinks and then probably go back to his place or something..." Neil had a visible expression of distaste, fiddling with his thumbs. You didn't get why he was so upset. "What's his name?" He said, voice barely above a whisper.
"Russell."
"Russell." He repeated coldly. Jonathan and Lucien were utterly silent. The tension was thick, and trying to waft through it felt suffocating.
"Why are you upset?" You blurted out. "Can't you at least be happy for me for once that I'm finally fucking going out with somebody?"
""Course I'm happy for you, Y/N, I just don't want you... to get hurt..." Neil muttered. "That's all."
"Right." You scoffed, scooting to the other side of the couch.
The tension was unbearable, and Jonathan shifted uncomfortably on the couch. Things always got weird when you brought up a guy you like or a guy you were seeing. You never got why. Why would Neil be upset that you were seeing somebody? How many girlfriends did you have to sit and watch him be with? How many painful breakups have you comforted him through? How many times had you encouraged him to go over and talk to a girl he thought was pretty? A countless amount of times, that's what. So the fact that the mood visibly shifted as soon as you said you were going on a date... it pissed you off. Neil was never encouraging when it came to putting yourself out there romantically. It was almost like he was jealous, but you knew he had no reason to be.
"How'd you meet?" Lucien cleared his throat, trying to lighten the air.
"Well when I was here alone the other day... he was in the shop-"
"He was in the shop?" Neil interrupted with a whine, eyebrows knitted together.
"Yeah, he was, so what?" You turned and looked at Neil, glaring at him.
"Can't believe you're going out with a customer," Neil muttered. "Thought you were better than that." "What the fuck's that supposed to mean?"
"It... no... nothing, just-" "God forbid I meet someone!" You were standing up now. Lucien and Jonathan had gotten up and wandered over to the other side of the shop, pretending they were browsing the shelves. "How many fucking bimbos have you asked out that had come in here, Neil?" "Y/N-" "I'm leaving." You barked, grabbing your things and rushing out, not before giving Lucien and Jonathan a gentle wave before slamming the door and walking home in the pouring rain.
The walk home was long and treacherous. Usually, Neil would drive you home. But you couldn't stand to be around him right now, not after his hypocritical words. When you got home, you collapsed in bed, still in your wet clothes, and cried your eyes out. Thunder cracked outside, and your windows rattled with the harsh wind. Your phone began to ring, the familiar ringtone you assigned to Neil's contact buzzing through your pocket. You just groaned.
"Go away, Neil." You grunted into your pillow, bickering to no one. "Why can't you just leave me alone?"
Curling up into a ball, the tears continued to fall. You hated the way you felt towards Neil; you hated that you wanted him to be more than just a friend. Your phone kept ringing, and it only made you cry harder.
You remembered freshman year of high school when you first met Neil; you instantly clicked and were in every class together. Everyone always thought you were dating, and you'd both share a round of 'Ew's and 'That's never gonna happen' and then silently look at each other thinking 'What if' (unbeknownst to each other). You always daydreamed about losing your virginity to Neil, the scrawny, awkward pimply boy who was the sweetest guy you'd ever met, though you ended up losing it to some guy called Lloyd over a dare. It wasn't very romantic, nor was it pleasurable. You just laid there and thought about Neil the whole time.
The sleep you got that night was terrible, but you tried to focus on the positives. You were going on a date! Yay! Not with Neil, though. You spent the day mostly picking out an outfit, mentally scolding yourself for not deciding on it sooner since most of your good clothes were dirty and you were feeling incredibly antsy. Your phone had been blowing up all day. Texts from Neil, Jonathan, and Lucien lit up your screen every other second. You didn't reply, you couldn't, you felt entirely too embarrassed.
Meanwhile, Lucien lounged on the couch at Neil's house, and Jonathan watched Neil pace back and forth in his kitchen while making handmade whipped cream. They were going to make a cake.
"I just don't know what to do, man," Neil huffed, stirring the bowl even more aggressively. Jonathan watched, unsure of how to comfort his friend. "What the fuck do I do? What if this guy is like... her soulmate or something cliche like that?"
"Okay," Jonathan laughed, putting his hand in the air. "Russell is not her soulmate." "How do you know? Have you met him?" Neil hissed back.
"No, but... how do we even know this 'Russell' guy even exists? What if she's just trying to make you jealous?"
"That's a good point!" Lucien quipped in from the other room.
"Thanks, Lucien," Jonathan rolls his eyes before looking back at Neil, who has set the bowl aside, melting to the floor with tears. "Look... dude, I think you should go over there and tell her how you feel... the worst she can say is no..."
"The worst she can say is no," Neil mocked, tears streaming down his face. "Yeah fuckin' right! She's gonna..." Neil sobbed, hiding his hands in his face. "I'll go over there, and she'll... never want to speak to me again... she wouldn't feel the same way... it's impossible!"
Jonathan looked exasperated. It was painfully apparent to everyone but you and Neil that you two were soft for each other. You usually spend every day together. The idea of losing you to some other guy was heartbreaking for Neil. Neil cried like a baby, and Jonathan watched, awkwardly leaning against the counter, unsure what to say.
"Just fucking do it, you fucking idiot!" Jonathan blurted out. "I know she likes you... do you really think Y/N would've stuck around this long with us losers if she didn't feel something for you?"
"I don't know, Jonathan..." Neil whimpers, looking up at Jonathan with the most pitiful eyes anyone has ever seen. He looked straight out of a painting.
"And even if she doesn't feel the same for you..." Jonathan continues, crouching down to be at his height on the floor. "You guys have known each other way too damn long to just throw away a good friendship over you liking her. Y/N's a smart girl. She'll learn to accept it if she doesn't feel the same way."
Neil just buried his face further into his knees, continuing to cry. "Gee, you'd think he just got his period or something." Lucien said unhelpfully.
"Shut up, Lucien!" Neil and Jonathan yelled in unison.
"Listen, I think you should just tell her... she ain't responding to any of my texts... and I don't know how it's gonna go with this Russell guy tonight, so I reckon you should head on over there..." Jonathan rambled. Neil still stayed in the same place, with his head in his hands. "Like right now!" Jonathan yelped, and Neil jumped at the sudden shift in volume and tone.
Neil approached your house as you sat in some dive bar, waiting for your date. His key twisted your locked door. Unbeknownst to him, the house was completely empty. And as he walked in, Russell was yet to arrive, over twenty minutes late to your date. At this point, you'd accepted that you had been stood up and patted yourself down, ensuring you had everything you brought.
"Y/N!" Russell's voice greets you, clearly out of breath. "I'm so sorry for being late... traffic was awful." Yeah, right, you thought. But you gave him a small smile and sat back in your booth. "That's alright," You pressed down your skirt that rested uncomfortably high on your thighs, trying to calm your nerves. The leather of the seats stuck to your thighs as Russell began making small talk. How boring. You found yourself zoning out as you downed the drink Russell had bought you just to try and cope with the terribly grim situation you were dealing with. Russell was some sort of accountant. Just the idea of finance lulled your brain into a state of boredom and borderline sleepiness. Russell's voice was monotone, and the way he licked his cracked lips every time he spoke made you feel queasy.
Meanwhile, Neil sat on your couch, spread out and feeling hopeless. No other person could ever compare to you, never ever, ever, ever. The thought of you meeting this guy he didn't know anything about except for his god-awful name and possibly hitting it off... maybe starting a life with him... the jealousy was sickening. Genuinely sickening.
It was festering within him, after all these years of watching men come into the store and flirt with you, the jealousy... the possessiveness... that another man talking to his Y/N... brought on was just too much for poor little Neil to handle. The jealousy was now fuelling the reason he still stayed. As soon as you walked through that door, with Russell or not, he'd get on his hands and knees... and beg you to love him... beg you to love him the way he loves you.
An hour went by... and then another, by now, it was nearing 10:30 PM, and Neil wasn't even sure if you were coming home. He then remembered your words of 'going back to his place afterwards' and felt like the biggest idiot in the whole world. He felt like he had lost you... like he was mourning you. His heart broke silently, and the heavyweight in his chest grew to be too intense, too blue to even cry. So he stood up and sighed, looking around your apartment before saying his goodbyes. I won't be over much now that she has a boyfriend, Neil thought. But as he turned around, about to walk out the door, there you stood with your key still in the lock looking at him like you'd look at an angel.
"Neil?" You asked softly as if it could possibly be anyone else.
"Y/N," He gasped, rushing to you, hands reaching out to you. "Please listen to what-" "Who's this?" Russell asks with a scoff, leaning on the doorway. Neil backed away like he had just entered a cock-fight he knew he couldn't win.
"Russell..." You shifted to look at him. "I think it's better if you just go... we can... we can see each other another time." "Yeah, alright," Russell shrugged, playing it cool but Neil saw the flicker of annoyance flash through the man's eyes. Russell turned back around and left, leaving the two of you alone.
"What are you doing here, Neil?" You chided, closing the door and deadbolting it behind you before walking over to the couch with Neil.
"I... I need to talk to you..." Neil whispered. You sat right beside each other, staring into each other's eyes. A feeling grew in your chest like you knew what he was about to say. "Y/N..."
"Neil..."
"I..." He faltered, his eyes looking down at his lap as he reached out, holding both your hands in his. Your heart did a spin at this, lips parted as you breathed heavily. What is happening? "I.... fuck... I don't know how to do this," Neil pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, clearly about to cry. "I've watched so many goddamn movies you'd think I... you'd think I'd have the right thing to say."
"Neil," You whispered, your voice coming out like a warning. "Just say it."
Neil looked up at you, speechless. The expression on his face was truly indescribable. Almost like a dramatic build-up, the room was silent, giving each other this look. This look you had never openly given to each other before.
"I don't want to kill my time with anybody else," Neil began, taking deep breaths. The sounds of cars passing by and trees swaying in the wind could be heard, along with the pounding of your heart. "You're the only one who makes me feel alive."
"Neil," You warned, looking away from him. "Why now?" You blurted out, quickly smacking your hand over your loose mouth.
"Wha...?" Neil asked, torn completely out of the moment by just those two words.
"Why are you telling me this now?" You questioned. Your hands ran down your face. "Why, Neil, Why?"
"What do you mean?" Neil shook his head, eyebrows knitted together. "What do you mean?!"
You were standing up now, you couldn't be close to him, you felt too dizzy. "After all these years... why are you only telling me this now?"
"I-I... I..." Neil stammered, utterly speechless this time. He wasn't expecting this reaction, he couldn't quite place what you were feeling. "I was afraid, Y/N."
"Of what?" You raised your voice and he flinched and suddenly the guilt hit you like a freight train. Tears fell down your face, ruining your makeup.
"Of losing you! Losing the only person in my life who actually matters!" Neil stood up as well, approaching you. Like a game of cat and mouse, you stepped away while he kept trying to round the coffee table to get to you. "I need you, Y/N. I need you to know how badly," He pleaded with you, but you couldn't find a way to let him further into your heart. He'd hit bone if he went any further into it.
"Neil, I don't know anymore! You're so confusing!" You screeched as he bumped into you, knocking you down onto the couch and he knelt in front of you, pleading eyes staring up at you. "I don't know what you want from me!" You cried.
"I want everything," He whispered, hands placed on both of your thighs. "I want to be yours... I want you to be mine. How do I make this any clearer?"
"I don't... I don't have you," You felt like you were being torn apart. "You don't want me. You just... you're just confused! You don't want me! You want..." You closed your eyes, thinking about the women Neil had dated. You felt like he wouldn't be satisfied with you... you felt like you weren't pretty enough or you were too boring or too familiar. "I don't have you... Neil... and I never will."
"You've always had me. Every second of every day... you've had me. I'm yours." Neil whispered, hands squeezing your thighs. "Please. I need to know."
"Need to know what?" "That you'll take me," His fingers travelled further up your goosebump-covered skin. "That you'll let me in, Y/N."
"How?" Your hands shook as you looked him in the eye again. This time... it felt like you were looking at a completely different man. It was no longer just your best friend you were looking at... but the man pleading with you to love him as if you hadn't been silently loving him from afar... all these years.
"Please let me show you."
Neil used his hands to balanced himself as he slowly and intimately leaned in, lips brushing yours every-so slightly. "Neil..." You whispered.
"Shh...." He hushed.
And your lips joined together. It felt like your body had let him in, like he was rewriting your DNA and letting every part of him consume you. He sat beside you now, cradling you in his arms as you kissed slowly. This was all so new to you, unlike any other kiss you had ever experienced. Every other kiss before this just felt like you were trying to negotiate something... but this... this kiss felt like your body had found its missing limb like it had found what it had been lacking all these years.
A string of spit connects the two of you as Neil softly pulls away, panting for breath. "Am I in yet?" He chuckled.
You tilted your head, squinting and stroking your chin, pretending you were struggling to decide. "Maybe... I don't know yet... think you'll have to try harder..." Your voice was still a bit shaky from crying. "Alright," He snorts before diving back in and kissing you rougher this time but still in that romantic, slow way. One hand placed on your hip and the other guiding the back of your head as you made out. Tongues pawing at each other like they were getting acquainted.
"Please touch me," Neil whimpered into your lips, and oh fuck, that was the most divine noise you had ever heard. "Please." "Only 'cause you asked so nicely..." You hummed, pushing him down and straddling him. You watched as he threw his head back, biting his lip and holding back the noises he so desperately wanted to make at the feeling of you sitting on him. Your fingers fiddled with the buttons on his shirt, watching him writhe underneath you at only the slightest touch. You popped each button out individually and slowly until Neil was groaning with annoyance.
"Don't be such a tease, Y/N," Neil grunted from behind gritted teeth once you had his shirt off. "If you felt how hard my dick was right now-"
"Oh, I do!" You giggled cheekily, slowly rolling your pelvis in a slow circle right over the tent in his trousers that poked into your thigh.
"You fucker-" He groaned, reaching his arms up and grabbing your head roughly and pulling you into a soul-sucking kiss, tongue grappling at yours desperately.
You moaned through dancing lips as you had the most delicious friction going. Neil was being just as loud as you, whimpers vibrating through your sternum and into your soul. Neil bucks his hips up pathetically before he breaks the kiss abruptly.
"You've gotta stop or I'm... I'm gonna..." He buried his muzzle in your neck and moaned. "I'm gonna fuckin cum in my pants." "Oh yeah?" You grinned, grinding your hips even faster.
"That means stop!" He grabs ahold of your wrists and flips you around like you were in a wrestling competition. You gasped out as he had you down against your couch, panting heavily above you with that frustrated-and-horny look. "I knew you'd be a little brat." He spat menacingly before grinning like a puppy, leaning down and kissing you heavily.
You ran your hands up your shirt, trying to pull your shirt off which made Neil pull away slowly when he realized you were taking your top off. "Are you sure?" He said breathily, above you, mouth wide open and his eyes glued on every inch of skin that was slowly being revealed more and more. You just nodded your head and smiled. "Oh fuck, you're showing me your boobs." Neil's eyes lit up like a kid in a candy shop. "Neil," You giggled as you got the top off and out came your tits, and there was Neil sitting there in disbelief at the sight of your boobs. "Neil!" You laughed, hitting him with a cushion; he smacked it away before looking back down at them with this look that almost resembled a look of horror. "Stop looking at me like that!"
"Fucking hell, this is the best thing to ever happen to me," Neil chirped. "Fuck... please, Y/N... please let me squeeze them."
"Go ahead, Neil, touch me," You hummed, raising your arms above your head and leaning back with a Cheshire cat grin as his hands slowly and cautiously cusp your boobs. He let out a soft moan and let his eyes flutter shut as he slid his hands over your breasts, you could hear his breath hitch as his thumb slid over your hard nipples. "You're acting like you haven't touched a boob before," You snickered.
"Oh, believe me, I have..." Neil nodded, eyes open now and staring at your tits like he was high. "Just none as good as these..." He leaned in, hot breath fanning your left breast, lips parted but he doesn't go any further than that.
"Put it in your mouth, pretty boy," You demanded, and like the sub you always thought he was, he obeyed with a smile. "Fuck... that's it." The tops of his cheeks were flushed a gentle pink as he sucked and swirled his tongue around your nipple. "Mmm...." He hummed, eyes closed. His full body weight was resting on you while he sucked on your tits, switching between them. You laid there for quite a while and wondered how long he could do this. You braided your fingers through his hair before tugging it back roughly, and he unwillingly popped off your tit with a loud and whoreish whine.
"Hey!" He complained with eyebrows knitted together as his eyes looked between your eyes and spit-covered tits. He's so spoiled.
"I always knew you'd be a little brat." You said, repeating what he said to you earlier.
Neil drools on you helplessly, groaning as you pull on his hair more until you two are sitting up facing each other. You grin once more and lean in, giving him a sweet little kiss. His hands cupping your tits desperately.
"Carry me to the bedroom." You hummed dramatically, raising your arms in the air, and Neil shook his head and chuckled as he leaned down and wrapped you up in his arms.
"I'm so glad you're my best friend," Neil murmured into your warm shoulder as he padded you guys down to the bedroom he had been in countless times.
"Not just best friends, though," You remarked as he laid you down on the bed with your legs over his shoulders. He reached towards your bedside table.
"Condoms?" He hummed, searching through your drawers, but found nothing.
"Birth control... you should know this you idiot!" You giggled at Neil realizing what you just said.
"Can I...?"
"Yes!"
"Like... inside?" He asked, squinting his eyes.
"Yes!" You nodded your head, laughing wildly.
"Fuck you're gonna be the best girlfriend ever!" Neil grunted happily before leaning in and kissing you like you were his last meal.
Meanwhile, he slid your skirt down and unzipped his trousers. You caught a glimpse of his thick cock straining against his briefs and found yourself growing wetter.
"Let me make you mine, Y/N..." He whispered. "Let me finally make you mine."
"I've been yours," You caressed his face. You were both out of your underwear now. The tip of his prick nudging your clit as you looked up at him with so much love. "Please... Neil... please... I need you so bad."
Neil nodded silently, closing his eyes as he lined up his aching cock with your dripping cunt. The initial push in made your mind go blank and your spine arch even further into his touch, Neil moaned as he pushed himself into you fully.
"I can't believe this is happening..." Neil whispered. "This is so much better than I ever imagined it to be."
"You thought about me?" You grinned idiotically, high on the way he was stretching you out.
"Fuck," He groaned, hair falling over his pretty face. "Every fuckin' night."
"Me too."
His hands were placed firmly on your hips, and as he receded back until it was just the head of his cock in you, his fingers slid up to grope at your tits that his eyes had been practically glued on all night. Neil fucked you nice and slow, relishing in the way your pussy felt around him. Your hands were gripping the sheets, legs still thrown over his shoulders and mouth spewing incoherent words of pleasure.
"Neil... baby... oh my god," Your eyes so desperately wanted to shut but you wanted to enjoy how pretty he looked above you. "I love you."
Those words hung heavy in the air for a moment, Neil's hips never faltering as he leaned down and kissed you. "I love you, Y/N." Neil whispered against your hot mouth.
That was all you needed to hear. His cock slid in and out of you, both groaning and moaning as your bodies finally became one. Neil's mouth hung agape against yours, breathing in each other's air. Neil's face was flushed a bright red, pupils blown wide, and his hair messy from how you ran your fingers through it. Your noses brushed together as his pelvis rutted against your clit, dick still so deep inside you.
"I love you so much," Neil panted, thrusting into you desperately. "I always have..."
"Love you..." You whimpered, eyes fluttering shut and your arms slithering around his neck as the pleasure consumed you from the inside out. "So much... Neil..."
Neil pressed a kiss to your cheek, nuzzling your face as he ground into you. "Fuck, please let me cum inside you."
"I'm so close, Neil..." You whispered. "Just hold on a little longer."
Neil grunted. A pyramid of pleasure building within you, ready to crash down and crumble inside of you. Your orgasm grew like a million tiny vines curling around each individual nerve until you saw colors you had never seen before.
"Squeezing me so tight," Neil whined. "I need to cum... please..."
"Cum," You commanded and he did.
Coming undone together felt like it was truly sealing your fate. You had never felt so close to him; you knew you could and would spend the rest of your life with him. He mewled into the crook of your neck, cum spilling into you as you convulsed, orgasm swallowing you whole and ridding you of all your senses. All you felt was him and the impending pleasure devouring you. Neil's whimpers only further pushed you over the edge.
"Y/N," He moaned like a whore. "Fuck... Y/N..." He whined right into your ear as his cock continued to fill you with his warm cum.
Your brain couldn't conceive a proper thought. You couldn't will yourself to speak as he collapsed on top of you. You smile as you lay there together, skin on skin, hearts pounding in sync. Neil pulled out of you with a quiet hiss, picking you up and curling up with you under the sheets.
You looked at each other silently, both still calming down. Your thumb drew infinity signs onto his cheekbone, slowly blinking at the boy you had always wanted- no, needed.
"That was the best thing to ever happen to me," Neil whispered, sleepy eyes looking at you full of adoration. "You're the best thing to ever happen to me." Neil pecked you softly on the lips. "I can't believe it took me this long to tell you... I... I'm sorry." "Shh..." You hushed. "It's okay... we're together now... that's all that matters."
You lay in silence once more, hearts still pounding in your chests. You took in every detail of him, which you had memorized countless times before, but this time it was different. It felt much more intimate. Every crease, every freckle... every tiny minuscule detail of him was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen.
"Does this mean we're boyfriend-girlfriend now?" Neil chuckled, rolling over onto his back, pulling you into his side.
"Shut up, Neil," You giggled. "You're such a dork."
"You love it." He quipped.
"I do," You agreed. "I love you."
"I love you," Neil smiled sweetly, and as he leaned in to kiss you again, you were quickly interrupted by the sound of Neil's phone ringing. "Fuck me," He grunted, reaching down to grab at his jeans where his phone was. "Hello?" He said with a sour face. "Hi, Jonathan, everything is okay... yes, she's here with me..." Neil looked down at you with a smirk. "Yes, Lucien can borrow my goggles... I don't care... can we talk about this later?" Neil hung up and tossed his phone aside before looking back at you with a sheepish smile.
"What was that about?"
"Well... erm... Jonathan just asked if everything went well... between us..." Neil blushed.
"He knows you're here?"
"He's the reason I came over... he gave me the courage to... y'know... tell you how I feel."
You rolled your eyes and laughed before kissing him deeply. You felt like everything was okay. Now that you had Neil in your arms, you could handle anything that life threw at you. Neil was already planning your wedding in his head as you shared the love between you in a kiss. You wouldn't want it to be anyone else
-
I NEED NEIL LEWIS.... LIKE RIGHT NOW!!! Ugh, I love him so much. Anyway, hope you enjoyed <3
#cillian murphy#cillian murphy smut#cillian murphy x reader#cillian x reader#cillian murphy fanfic#neil lewis#watching the detectives#neil lewis smut#neil lewis x reader#cillian x fem!reader
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