#it's the yearning for more without ever being able to ask for it.

[james-stark-the-writer]

sigh. so i saw the video on Ocean Waves's "accidental" queer narrative. and it's such a frustrating watch bc it fundamentally, and WILLFULLY, misunderstands the text so much that it truly baffles me. it is like they didn't even understand the fucking point of the movie. it's actually weirdly basically a lot of the same criticism that (500) Days of Summer got actually, because people can't fucking understand the point of the coming-of-age narratives that both the movies are presenting, and that they are not unbiased narrations, they both have a very specific point of view and it's for a reason!!!

[moechies]

riding toji ; what a pain ! 。・゜・(ノД`)・゜・。

finger in butt :o , riding , faux dubcon , anal mention

ever since he asked you to get on top, he was whipped. he doesn’t think there’s anything better than this, pretty tits bouncing up in his face, your twitching cunny fervently around his cock, and your desperate grapples at his arm for help. oh, this is perfect; this is what life is all about.

he especially loves when you give up, your soft body plaint against his bulky, hot one as you hide your flushed face in the cove of his shoulder. you feel his hard stomach under yours, abs and pecs pressing into your skin.

he can’t help but scale his fingers down your figure in your moment of rest, admiring each and every cell that forms your gorgeous shape, gentle fingers pinching the skin of your waist.

he sets his eyes on the mound of your butt, his trailing finger slowly crawling against a forbidden region; your butthole.

you’re dazed and fucked out of your mind, yearning for nothing more but to fall asleep with a click, but the heavy cock that lays within your gummy walls prevents you from doing so. while you’re distracted, you feel a singular ragged finger drag its way along the crevice of your mound, pressing against the puckered, virgin hole above your tainted cunny;

“n—no ! not there toji…” you whine, shaking your head against his shoulder. it’s hard for you to scramble away despite your tried efforts, his lodged cock keeping you still.

you know he would take you however he desired to, despite your little begs of no. nothing you say matters when you’re laying against him without a single ounce of strength remaining in your body, solely waiting for the man to get impatient and end up fucking you to sleep.

his thick finger relentlessly presses into the resisting hole, making you cry out. your nails dig into the sweat-gleaming muscle of the man, causing him to let out a light hiss.

“damn tight, little girl .” he chuckles, bucking his hips up into your cunt, readjusting your position on top. you squeal, pounding your fist against his chest with a complaining mewl. he’s so abrupt. he continues your efforts, a hand laid against your back to keep you pliant against him as he rocks his hips gently against your warmth. a thick finger prodding itself in and out of your butthole, and it’s all too much.

“noooo—“ you cry, humping your ass back into his palm. “hnnn… h—hurts back there.” he laughs at the irony of it all; he knows you’re feeling good, what can he say ? he knows how to make you feel great. he knows it’s all a ploy in able to get him to praise you, praise you for being such a good girl, for taking everything he’s giving you, and it works.

“shh, my sweet girl. takin’ m’finger so well. good, good girl .”

you let out a wanton moan, a mixture of pain and pleasure, just as the chubby tip of his cock pressed against your cervix. his finger pumps a tad faster, a tad deeper and it fills you so wrongfully well.

“y’gonna take my cock in here next time, hm? that’s what the best girls do.”

[froggiewrites]

Wanting

Pairing: Sanji x Reader

NSFW

Summary: You have never wanted anyone more than you want Sanji. You don't want to admit it, but as you end up alone together on a new island, the universe seems determined to make you. Warnings: Smut, There Was Only One Bed, Possessiveness (a bit from both Sanji and Reader), Reader really matching Sanji's energy on the horniness here Word Count: 5.6k Crossposted from Ao3

You had never wanted anyone more than you had wanted Sanji.

You hated to admit that tragic, embarrassing fact, but it was true all the same. You wanted him. You had always known you’d liked Sanji, from the moment you met and he threw himself at your feet, knew you found him endearing and silly, but wanting him? That was different. Wanting was real. Wanting was demanding. Wanting had you pacing the deck after yet another dirty dream about your silly little cook, trying to calm down enough to be able to face him at breakfast.

Your bare feet hit the grass of the Sunny’s deck as you pray that this will pass, that you’ll be able to see your dear friend without yearning for him so deeply it threatens to rip a hole in your chest, but every time you close your eyes you can still feel his lips against yours and see his face twisted in pleasure. You huff with frustration, throwing yourself down to lay on your back and stare at the sky. Maybe the morning sun will burn out your retinas and you won’t have to worry about seeing his face at all anymore.

“You alright down there?” His voice is still raspy from sleep, and your eyes shoot open as you use all the willpower you have not to rub your thighs together.

“Sanji!” Your voice is an octave higher than you would have liked to admit. “Hi! Good morning! Um, yeah. I’m uh–I’m fine. Peachy.”

Don’t think about it. Don’t think about his hands reaching down to grab you. Don’t think about how his dick would feel in your mouth.

Fuck. Damnit.

“Are you sure? You’re a little red.” You finally look up to see his face, his hair a little mussed and his eyes softened with concern. You want to kiss him. God, you want to kiss him.

“I’m okay, I’m just, uh. A little hot. That’s all.” You focus anywhere but his eyes, those beautiful kind eyes, because you know if you focus on his eyes you’ll do something you’ll regret. Or maybe you wouldn’t regret it at all, because you’d finally know what his lips feel like.

No. Not now. Not ever. You are not all hot and bothered over Sanji. Not your dear friend Sanji, who is looking at you with so much care it makes you physically ache.

“Do you want to come inside? I can make you something to cool you down.”

You picture being alone together in the kitchen, his practiced hands and talented fingers moving with such purpose as he slices and dices, just to make something to please you. You picture those fingers moving with a different purpose, working for a different pleasure. If you go in that kitchen you fear you’ll do something you can’t take back. “I’m alright! I just need to lay here.” Your voice definitely just audibly cracked.

His face falls a little at the idea that you won’t come with him. You try not to let your heart flutter at the idea he wants you around. That he wants you alone with him. “Alright, well come on in if you change your mind, okay? I’ll do–make. I’ll make anything you want.”

What was that?

Your imagination, surely.

“Of course, Sanji. I’ll let you know if I need you–anything.”

“Right.”

“Yeah.”

You stare at each other for a moment before he turns and walks into the kitchen without even a goodbye, and if you didn’t know better you would think the tips of his ears were red. Surely not, though.

You cover your face and groan, rolling onto your front to block out the world. You hear sets of footsteps pass as your other crewmates wake up and decide to leave you to your misery instead of asking. A small mercy, but one you’re grateful for.

Once you finally manage to drag yourself off of the ground, your thoughts filled with simple, unsexy things like cold showers and paint drying, you make your way to the kitchen for breakfast. You come in only on the tail end of the meal and conversation, hearing Nami’s voice dictating how things are going to go on the next island.

“—need to make sure we aren’t separated. There’s an island-wide curfew, and we need to make sure that none of us break it. We don’t want to risk drawing attention to ourselves.” You can’t see her face but you are familiar with the scathing side-eye she’s almost certainly giving Zoro and Luffy right now.

“Why are you looking at me?” Zoro’s voice is defensive in the way it only gets when he knows whatever he’s being accused of is inarguably true.

Nami sighs. “It’s too early for this. Anyway, we’re going to pair up to make sure no one gets stranded alone on the island just in case we miss curfew. I wrote all of our names on pieces of paper, and I’m going to draw–”

“Why do you get to draw?”

“Yeah I wanna draw! I’m the captain!”

“It doesn’t matter who–”

You tune them out for your sanity as you retrieve your plate from Sanji’s outstretched hands. He gives you a soft, sincere smile that cuts to your core. He looks so wonderful like that, when he isn’t trying to woo you and he’s just being…Sanji.

“I kept it warm for you.” He leans closer so you can hear him over the din of voices behind you. Your eyes are level with his chest, his shirt unbuttoned halfway so you can see his entire torso. You need to look away. You need to stop ogling.

You don’t.

“Thank you,” you murmur distractedly. You don’t know if you’re thanking him for the breakfast or for the clear view of his happy trail.

His chest gets closer, and you feel his warm breath against your ear. “Of course. Anything for you.” He’s so close. You could so easily put your lips against his neck. You could bite him right now, make him make such wonderful noises right here in front of everyone.

“Hey, are you two even listening?” Nami’s annoyed voice rings out from the table behind you.

You both stand at attention like navy soldiers the moment she calls for you. Her tone means business. That silly argument earlier seems like it soured her mood for the entire day.

“Of course, Nami!” Your tone rings false, and she gives you a dour look that you shrink under.

“Ugh. Whatever. Important bits: we’re staying paired up on this island. Be back before dark. Don’t draw attention to yourselves. Got it?”

“Yes, Nami!” You both chorus.

“Great. I’ll start pulling names.”

Your captain pouts. “But I–”

“I’m pulling names.”

“Awww.”

The pairs came quickly: Brook and Usopp, Franky and Robin, Luffy and Chopper, and Nami and Zoro (to Sanji’s audible displeasure). You laugh along with everyone else for just a moment at Sanji’s fit before you realize what it means.

“God, if it pisses you off that much then just switch partners with me!” Zoro’s voice is filled with annoyance, his eye turning to you.

Sanji pauses for a moment, his eyes finding yours, and you can see pure and utter euphoria hit him when he realizes. The fury at Zoro’s suggestion hits a moment after. “No way in hell, mosshead!”

The bickering continues, as it always does, and you try to calm your thoughts once again. A day alone with him. A date, perhaps. You imagine at first walking hand in hand while shopping, stopping in a cafe to enjoy together, and other simple domestic things that make a small lovesick smile make its way onto your face.

And then you remember your dream, hear his lovely voice cry out in a broken whine, and your silly daydreams turn to dark alleys and frantic, fumbling hands taking what they need before you’re caught. You imagine getting to run your hands down his torso, following the teasing trail of hair you saw earlier down, wrapping your hands around him and making him whimper.

You stop your thoughts because you are in front of an audience and are going to lose your sanity if you allow yourself another moment of this.

Sanji and Zoro have stopped fighting, and the crew is pairing off as everyone decides their tasks for today. Zoro has been designated Nami’s shopping bag holder, and his protests fall on deaf ears as the conversations continue without him. You and Sanji will be grocery shopping, of course. He has the list ready to go, which means all you need to do is keep him company and try not to get jealous when he inevitably hits on a stranger. You can do that, grit your teeth and give tight-lipped smiles that hopefully hide the taste of iron on your tongue. Maybe if you’re lucky she’ll reject him, refuse to give him the time of day, and he’ll turn to you as he licks his wounds. He’ll find comfort in you, and you’ll gladly give it. You can ease the sting of rejection as he eases the yearning ache in your chest.

As the crew moves to leave the kitchen, Zoro begins to lean over to you, presumably to make some gruff joke about how miserable your day will be with Sanji, wearing a smug grin hiding the boyish amusement he gets from teasing the man he would never admit is his friend. Before you can hear it, give him a soft laugh and a roll of the eyes, your vision is filled with the soft blue of a slightly unbuttoned shirt and there’s a large, gentle hand on the small of your back.

“I said hands off, mosshead.” Sanji’s voice holds more hostility than you’d expect. Most days even their worst of fights have an air of levity to them that they would never admit, but this has real anger behind it, venom spitting from his lips in a way you had never heard. The hand on your back presses firmly, commandingly, in a way that makes your knees weak. “Let’s go, angel.” His voice softens, then, not filled with the candied sweetness he saves for his usual flirtations, but the type of tender sincerity and affection saved only for a small inner circle you are forever grateful to be a part of.

“What, I can’t talk to her? Possessive pervert.” There’s less anger behind Zoro’s words and more confusion, but you can hardly hear it as the door slams firmly shut behind you. Sanji’s breathing is labored with anger, his shoulders drawn tight, but you hardly notice over the feeling of his fingertips on your back, brushing just above your ass, so close to moving lower. His hand moves to your hip instead, grabbing firmly, not enough to bruise but enough that you couldn’t leave if you wanted to.

“Sanji? Are you alright?” Your voice is hesitant as you try to keep the lust out of it, but he seems to take it as discomfort. His eyes widen, his hand immediately leaving you, and you can’t help but let out a soft whimper at the loss. He, of course, takes this as pain.

“Oh god, darling did I hurt you? I’m so sorry, I–”

“You didn’t hurt me, Sanji, I’m fine. I was just worried about you.” You give him a reassuring smile, teeth only slightly clenched from concentrating on anything other than how strong he felt, on how good it felt to be held, on the feeling that his fingerprints have been burned onto your skin even though the fabric of your shirt.

His face is troubled, his eyes watery from even the idea of hurting you, but he relaxes when you take his hand in yours, gently rubbing his knuckles with your thumb. “I’m fine. I just can’t stand the idea of you running off with mosshead and him getting you lost. He’d probably leave you alone in the woods somewhere.” The words ring falsely in your ears. He hates to admit it, but he trusts Zoro to protect you, no matter the situation. The safety of the crew is one of the few things they’ll always agree on. He does not and would never think Zoro would leave you for dead.

“He wouldn’t do that.”

Sanji goes quiet, unable to bring himself to disagree, to lie to your face a second time. What was he thinking? “Yeah, I…I know.” His voice is weak and strained, but before you can pry further he starts to walk ahead, pulling the grocery list out of his pocket, clearly shutting down the conversation. You stare longingly at his back for a moment, at his broad shoulders, before following in his footsteps.

Shopping is tense, at first, as he tries and fails to calm down, but you eventually find a rhythm. You both fall into each other, a brush of the hands here, a hand on the arm there, the pull so magnetic you cannot help but follow it. Eventually you find yourselves walking hip to hip, you holding his arm, pressing it to your chest incredibly deliberately as he tries and fails to pretend he doesn’t notice. He keeps sneaking glances at you out of the corner of his eye, and you revel in the attention, preening under his wanting gaze. Your thoughts are about nothing but him, nothing but his shining blue eyes lingering on your chest, nothing but the hard stops he keeps making so your tits press even harder into his bicep.

He’s looking at you. God, he’s looking at you, no one else. Your chest tightens at the idea it could always be like this, that he could be yours.

Neither of you notice how late it’s gotten until the sun is already more than halfway behind the horizon. You’re reluctant to break the tension as he pulls you closer when you walk past a group of rowdy drunks, but you remember Nami’s warnings and your blood runs a little cold.

“Um, Sanji? Do you know what time it is?”

He checks his watch with no sense of urgency, clearly not grasping the situation. “It’s almost nine, why?”

“Curfew is at nine thirty, isn’t it? And the ship is…” you think for a moment, “about an hour away?”

He stops in his tracks, causing your chest to press against him again. “Ah.”

A beat of silence.

“Nami’s going to kill us.”

“I think you’re right.”

“The marines will notice us if we’re out past curfew.”

“Right again, my dear.”

“We’re fucked.”

“Mhm.”

More silence, stretching further and further as reality sinks in.

“I…guess we should find somewhere to stay?” Your voice is a little meek.

“I guess so.” He tries to keep his tone even, but there’s something almost mischievous behind it, something you can’t place. The ends of his lips twitch into an almost smile before he stops it. You don’t know what he’s thinking, but you pray it’s something perverted. Maybe today he’ll get brave and act on it and you’ll have an excuse to throw yourself at him, give into the feeling you’ve been fighting all day.

You both attempt to find an inn with two open rooms, but the first three are fully booked with drunks who have beaten you to it. The curfew inches ever closer, and you still have nowhere to stay. If you stay on the street and get caught by the marines, you know Nami will kick your ass for alerting them to your presence. She probably already will for how long you’re delaying your journey. You focus on Sanji’s arm resting around your shoulders to ground yourself and ignore the dread creeping in and settling in your bones.

You finally find an inn that will take you, but you immediately run into a problem. Or what you’ll pretend is a problem.

“Please tell me you have availability.” Sanji’s voice is tinged with desperation as the clock ticks down.

 The woman working the desk seems exhausted, having clearly dealt with much worse customers than yourself earlier. “Is a queen bed okay?”

“A queen bed, like singular?” You put on a good show of acting confused and a little upset, hiding your giddiness well.

“Oh, are you two not–” Her eyes are lingering on where you’re connected, your arms wrapped around his. “I’m sorry, I assumed–well. Um. We only have one room left, I assumed you would want to share it.”

“One room?” Sanji’s voice gets a little loud, and a stranger would mistake this for anger or upset, but you can hear excitement in his tone. He glances at you again, at your face, at your chest, at your legs, admiring you for just a moment, certainly imagining something that would make you flush. “Only one room?”

“I’m sorry, there’s nothing else I can do. We really only have one. If that doesn’t work–”

“It works.” You both speak quickly. You pretend you don’t see him visibly fist pump when he thinks you aren’t looking. He pretends he doesn’t see you excitedly rock on your feet, a visible twinkle in your eye. The woman hands you a set of keys, and you’re both off.

As you walk to the room, you talk around it, pretending you both aren’t absolutely thrilled by this turn of events. 

“I can’t believe they only have one room. I know it’s busy, but this place is massive. It’s hard to believe it’s fully booked.” You try to sound annoyed, but a giggle makes its way into your voice as you imagine being tucked into the single bed with Sanji’s arms around you.

“It’s ridiculous. And with only a queen bed? Not even two twins? Or a king? It’s the most inconvenient it possibly could be.” He can’t fight his smile when he says only a queen, as he imagines both of you having nowhere to run except into each other. He could cry at the idea of having an excuse to hold you close, to feel you pressed against him with your head resting on his chest. It’s so domestic he could pretend it was real.

You both perfectly match each other’s steps in this liar’s dance even when the door closes, even when there’s not a single person to call you on it but each other. You cannot admit that you want this, out of fear that it might shatter the feeling of giddy excitement surrounding you both. You cannot put to words what is happening, lest you make it real. Real has worries attached to it, questions of the future and what this all means and what it changes. If you stay quiet you stay in the dream, where instead the only thing you have to think about is the pounding of your heart and the comforting heat of another next to you.

“I can sleep on the floor,” he says, visibly upset by the idea. He has to offer you the choice, he is a gentleman, but his eyes are pleading for you to deny the idea and welcome him into your bed.

“Don’t be silly, Sanji. You don’t need to ruin your back, there’s plenty of room for the both of us.” You leave out the internal pleading for him to come closer as soon as humanly possible. He can’t know how you may be even more desperate for him than he is for you.

“You’re an angel, my dear.” His smile now is genuinely affectionate, filled with a fondness that makes your chest ache. He looks younger like this, unburdened. “Well, let’s not wait, hm? I bet you’re exhausted.” His hands reach for the buttons of his shirt, and you watch, enraptured, as he slowly undoes each of them, revealing more and more of his body to you. You’ve seen it before, due to his favor for open silly Hawaiian shirts, but you can’t help but swallow at the sight, eyes never daring to look away. He’s so beautiful. He’s so strong.

You wonder if he could break you.

You wonder if you could break him.

He slips the shirt off easily, his hands moving down to his belt, the clink of the buckle sending a shiver down your spine and breaking you out of your trance. You can’t let him undress while you stay fully clothed. It’s rude. You let your hands slide down to the hem of your shirt, swiftly removing it, and he stops in the middle of unbuttoning his pants to stare, jaw slacked. You can see him grow hard at the sight of your chest as his eyes bore holes into you. His gaze is burning, his pupils blown out, his breathing growing heavy.

“Sanji?” You reluctantly call out to break the spell, not wanting your masquerade to end quite this soon.

“Yes? What is tit–it?” His eyes haven’t moved a centimeter, honed in on where your breasts spill over your bra.

“You’re staring.” You keep your tone teasing. His eyes finally trail up to your face, where he finds a twitching smile as you try to hold back your giggles. His expression shifts from lustful to lovestruck as his eyes soften and his smile widens.

“You’re beautiful,” he says, breathlessly.

“So are you.” His smile widens further as he finally looks away from you, suddenly bashful. His cheeks are flushed slightly pink, and you finally break and huff out a laugh. It isn’t seeing you half naked that gets him, or the idea of sharing a bed, or the lustful thoughts he’s certainly been having all day. It’s a simple compliment, not even a particularly good one, that flusters your dear cook. It makes you want to take his face in your hands and place kisses all over it, with a tenderness that would make its way under his skin, marking him as well and truly loved. It makes you want to drop to your knees and worship him, take him into your mouth and not stop until he’s utterly spent and crying from the overstimulation. It makes you want him, in every meaning of the word.

But you don’t want to break the illusion yet, still a little nervous about being the first to step over the line, so instead you slide your thumbs beneath the waistband of your jeans and quickly step out of them. You make your way to the bed, making a show of throwing yourself onto your back, bouncing a little as his eyes eagerly take in the movement of your breasts, your thighs, every inch of you. After allowing him a moment to admire, you shift to pull the blankets over yourself, tucking yourself in. You’re going to play your part. But you’re allowed a moment of fun. You look up at him, doe eyes blinking and arms outstretched welcomingly. “Sanji, aren’t you coming to bed?”

He pauses for a moment, his eyes turning to your face, and in that moment you swear you can see into his head. You see dreams of the two of you intertwined, not sexually, but just…together. You see his head resting against your chest, eyes closed in absolute bliss. You see the soft sunlight of the morning bathing you both in gold, warming you to your bones. You see a different scene, the two of you in a more intimate embrace, bodies pressing closer than you thought possible, hips moving and hands everywhere, a tender moment that almost feels like worship. You see an entire life together, every little moment, and you see Sanji’s eyes fill with tears at the idea of it.

He rips his pants off, practically diving into the bed with you, and his arms wrap around your waist like it’s the most natural thing in the world. He buries his face into your chest, nosing between your breasts, and somehow still keeping up this silly ruse, he mumbles, “This bed’s pretty small. Guess we’ll have to get even closer.” He pulls you tighter, and you’re almost sure he can’t breathe from how much he’s pressed his nose into your skin. You giggle, and you can feel him smile against you. He places a kiss right against your sternum, gentle and affectionate, before pressing one up slightly higher, then one higher than that, as he makes his way up to your neck. His facial hair rubs against your skin, the ticklish feeling making you laugh even more. He places one final kiss where your jaw meets your neck before pulling up to whisper in your ear. “Can I please kiss you? I think I’ll die if I don’t.”

“Please do,” you whine out. He doesn’t wait another moment before your lips crash together, teeth briefly clacking together in his excitement before it softens into something more tender and intimate. He groans softly into your mouth, lips parting, welcoming you in. You gladly accept, and he fully pins you beneath him and you explore each other’s mouths.

His hands slide underneath you, one pulling you upward into him as the other fumbles with the clasp of your bra. The moment it releases, he swiftly tosses it behind him, breaking your kiss to stare at your chest. His mouth is slightly agape as he pants, eyes wide, taking in the sight. He looks as though he wants to speak, but nothing comes out. The silence stretches out as he takes in every inch of your breasts, before he eventually reaches a shaking hand out to brush his fingers against your skin. He lets out a quiet breath of awe. “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life. A goddess. I can’t believe this is happening.”

“You took the words out of my mouth, Sanji. This is a dream come true.” Your voice is quiet with the vulnerable admission, and his eyes leave your chest to meet yours.

“You dreamed of this?” He sounds like he really truly can’t fathom the idea.

“Dozens of times. Almost every dream I have is about you. Last night I–” You stop yourself in embarrassment, face flushing.

He leans closer with an intensity he usually saves for battle. “Last night? You dreamed about me last night?” His eyes are boring into you, stripping you bare, staring straight into your heart and soul.

“Yes,” you softly admit. “I dreamed about you last night. About this. The real thing is so much better.”

“Oh god,” he breaths out, before he kisses you again, hard and fast. His hands envelop your tits, groping and squeezing. You can’t stop yourself from keening into his mouth when his fingers brush against your nipples, and you can feel him grind against you when he hears. His hardness presses against your bare thighs, showing how badly he wants you. He grabs at you like you’ll disappear between his fingers, fade away like all of the dreams that have been haunting you.

Another pinch at your nipples makes you cry out, and you pull back, begging, “Sanji, please, more!” You want to feel his fingers inside you, his tongue, his cock. Any and everything he could give you you want, and you feel so sure that he would gladly let you take it. He would give you the heart out of his chest if you asked.

He moans as his bulge rubs against your thighs again. “Fuck, of course, angel. Whatever you want.” He slides lower, and you feel his fingers slide along the fabric covering your slit. He carefully traces a path up to your clit, lightly pressing against it through your panties, making you suck in a breath. His eyes travel between your face and his fingers, taking note of your reactions.

He eventually slides off your panties, letting out a soft noise of appreciation once he’s able to see all of you. He leans closer, mumbling something you don’t quite catch, before his mouth is on you.

“Ah, Sanji!” You cry out in surprise, your thighs clenching together, and you can feel him moan against you at the pressure. His tongue moves expertly, which you suppose makes sense; Sanji is a man who knows how to appreciate a good meal. His hands reach up to grip your thighs, not to pull them apart, but to pull you even closer, hooking your legs over his shoulders as he dives further into you. His nose brushes your clit, making you keen again, and you can feel him smile against your cunt. 

You feel a familiar tension building in your gut as his tongue shifts to your clit and he inserts a finger, then two, then three inside of you, curling in a come hither motion that makes you see stars. You get noisier and noisier as the coil tightens, and Sanji only grows more enthusiastic with every moan and cry he manages to pull from you. His hips are grinding desperately against the mattress beneath you. Your thighs continue to tighten around his head, and you worry you’ll crush him, but you imagine that’s the way he’d want to go.

With one final flick of Sanji’s tongue and push of his fingers, you come unraveled around him, nearly screaming his name as you’re hit with white-hot pleasure. His fingers work you through it, only stopping when your thighs go slack around him and you let out a soft whimper. He crawls up to see your face, to see the evidence of his work, and you can see he’s absolutely covered in your wetness, his facial hair soaked in you. His pupils are blown out, his eyes nearly entirely black and looking nearly maddened with lust. He kisses you, and you can taste yourself on his lips.

“Please, please let me feel you. I need to feel you around me. Please.” His voice is ragged as he pants, a whine behind it as he begs to fuck you.

“Please,” you whimper back.

His fingers hook below the waistband of his boxers, and he slides out of them slowly. His cock stands proudly, long and thick, leaking precum. He gives you no time to admire it, swiftly lining it up with your entrance and slowly pushing himself into you, moaning into your ear at the feeling.

“Darling, you feel heavenly,” he groans. He sits still for a moment, giving you time to adjust and just enjoying the feeling of you tightening around him. “I could never have imagined how perfect you are. The dreams never did you justice.” You try to move your hips, but his hands are holding you still. You let out a whine, pathetic and wanton, and his lips tug into a smile. “Are you ready, my dear?”

“Yes, god, yes.”

He pulls himself out slowly, before reentering a little faster, the next time a little faster than that, increasing his speed bit by bit until he’s relentlessly pounding you into the mattress. He mumbles endless praise for you that gets lost between his moans, only allowing you to make out princess and tight and perfect. The room is filled with these small praises and the sound of slapping skin. You lean up to kiss him, but he doesn’t let you, instead staring intensely into your eyes, determined to see your face when you cum.

He watches your face as your orgasm grows closer, his hips speeding up and his fingers reaching for your clit. His gaze is loving, admiring, nearly worshiping, and his words at some point turn into a prayer: for you, for him, for what you’ve created here in this room to last long after the door opens and you return back to a life where this becomes real. Your orgasm hits you harshly, making you cry out, and he watches enraptured as you come apart around him. He tries to keep his pace steady, but his hips stutter as he cums inside of you, filling you with warmth.

He stays like that, cock inside of you, eyes locked onto yours. The only sound in the room is your heaving breaths, the only sensation either of you feel is the warmth of the other grounding you here.

“I think I love you,” he murmurs. “Can I say that? Can I make it real?”

You wrap your arms around him, pulling his head to your chest, cradling him there. “Please do. I want it to be real. I want you. I love you.”

He adjusts, pulling out of you, crawling up slightly to fully make his home in your chest. His shoulders shake, and you hear a sniffle. You don’t say anything, simply running your hands gently through his hair, across his cheeks, down his back.

“I’ve wanted you from the moment I saw you.” He nuzzles his face even deeper into you.

“I think I’ve wanted you just as long, even if I didn’t realize it.”

“I adore you.” His voice is thick with emotion, and you think maybe this confession is deeper and more difficult than his first. 

“I adore you too, Sanji. You’re one of the most wonderful people I’ve ever met.”

You sit there, basking in each other’s presence, enjoying a world where this gets to be real. You drift off to sleep peacefully, with the reassurance that when you wake this won’t just have been another troubling dream. Nothing is more real and grounding than his arms wrapped around you, his leg thrown over you, his lips still lightly pressed against your skin. You know you’ll see him tomorrow, shining brilliantly in the sun, and walk back hand in hand. You still dream of him, but the lovesick smile he gives you when you open your eyes is better than any dream you’ve ever had.

[prdx-invdr]

୨୧⸝⸝﹕if you call me a fool, then i’ll be a fool.

SUMMARY! you’ve been in love with park wonbin since the day the two of you met and never found the courage to tell him. why is it that you find yourself yearning to confess the moment someone else comes into the picture?

PAIRING! park wonbin x fem!reader

GENRE! college!au, slice of life, fluff, angst (an attempt was made), friends to lovers, IDIOTS to lovers omg WC 8.1k

WARNING! swearing, jealousy, y/n likes wonbin an insane amount girl get up, insecurity, anton instigates like it’s his job and he’s up for a promotion, random female idol is mentioned many times (nothing against her!!), not proofread

NOTE! do u guys know what song the title is from lol.. LOL also i had another wonbin fic i wanted to post and deleted it bc it sucked so actually im posting this one as a coping mechanism

you don’t realize the way you’re staring at the back of wonbin’s head until a voice snaps you out of your trance. “do you know what you want?” shotaro asks you, waving a hand in front of your face.

currently, the two of you, along with wonbin, seunghan, and anton, are standing in line at a beverage kiosk. the latter, having already received his drink, stands to your right while shotaro stands to your left. seunghan recites his order to the employee while wonbin stands idly behind him.

“don’t even bother asking,” anton chortles, lips still wrapped around his straw. “she’s probably gonna have wonbin order for her, like always.” you lightly slap him in the arm after the words leave his mouth, eyes darting to the aforementioned boy standing merely 2 inches in front of you, hoping he hadn’t heard anton’s teasing.

“i didn’t even say anything wrong! he orders for you all the time!” the boy whines, jokingly rubbing his arm where you had hit him.

shotaro lets out a curt laugh at the interaction, knowing that anton’s words held truth to them, whether you liked to admit it or not. “it’s because she’s shy. right, y/n?” he turns to you, attempting to diffuse your embarrassment. one look at the smile on his face and anyone would be able to tell that his words were complete bullshit. the two of you knew that the real reason you liked having wonbin order for you was because you liked him.

however, for your own sake, you sigh and choose to agree with shotaro’s statement, only offering a small nod. “whatever,” anton mutters under his breath, walking over to seunghan who has his own beverage in hand.

now that you, shotaro and wonbin were the only people in line, shotaro grabs your sleeve and gently pulls you backwards, putting more distance between the two of you and the boy who was now placing his order. before shotaro says anything, you know what the topic of conversation is going to be.

“do you ever plan on telling him?” is all he inquires, his voice lowering to a whisper. you avoid his piercing gaze, instead turning to look at anton and seunghan, laughing in between sips of their respective drinks. anton is already nearly finished with his, you note.

when you’re done observing them, you shift your attention to wonbin, who has his arms crossed as he points at one of the cup sizes the kiosk has on display, indicating that it’s the one he wants.

you’re unable to see his face but you’re able to picture it better than anything. the way his lip quirks upwards in an attempt to be polite to the employee. the furrow of his brow as he asks a question.

shotaro sighs at your silence and finds it astonishing how you’re able to ogle wonbin without even looking at his face. that very sigh brings you back into reality, finally meeting the gaze of the boy currently interrogating you.

“he… doesn’t think of me that way,” you slowly tell him, as if the words would physically pain you if you uttered them too quickly. shotaro lets out a noise you can only assume was meant to be a scoff, but being passive aggressive simply doesn’t run in his blood.

“are you kiddi-“ shotaro is interrupted by wonbin holding a drink in front of your face, thus putting a barrier between the two of you. “here, y/n,” the long haired boy hums, not moving from his spot until you take the beverage filled plastic cup. if you didn’t have park wonbin tunnel vision, as shotaro likes to call it, you’d see the way anton is shaking his head and letting out a short laugh in disbelief upon witnessing the interaction. “called it,” he tells seunghan, who only blinks in confusion.

“i wasn’t sure which one you wanted, but i remembered that time we went to that other drink place and you said you really liked the strawberry one, so i got you that,” wonbin explains, holding his own straw up to his mouth. he says it nonchalantly, as if you could either finish the drink in about 5 seconds before proclaiming how much you enjoyed it, or you could throw it to the ground and curse at him for assuming the flavor you wanted, and he wouldn’t flinch either way.

“um— yes— yeah, i..” you stutter, and shotaro swears it takes everything in him not to slap his own forehead at your sudden jumpiness. “i like it, thank you. you didn’t have to, wonbin,” you exhale, holding your drink with both hands.

“yeah, well, force of habit, you know?” the boy laughs. “since i’m always ordering for you anyway.” his words cause you to tense and you can just picture anton’s shit-eating grin after he heard what wonbin said. “right, yeah,” you nod, wanting the conversation to be over with. the 5 of you continue walking throughout the mall, seunghan complaining about what a ridiculous amount of time you had all just spent at that beverage kiosk.

“force of habit is crazy,” anton decides to tease you again, earning another slap on the arm. “stop hitting me!”

besides ordering drinks for you when you hadn’t requested for him to do so, anton has noticed that wonbin also tends to subconsciously let you get away with… a lot.

he doesn’t even attempt to hide the way he rolls his eyes when he walks into the living room and sees none other than you and wonbin, the latter seated on the carpeted floor while you’re situated on the couch behind him, playing with his hair.

“i shouldn’t have come in here,” he mutters, barely audible. he’s unsure if he wanted you and wonbin to hear him, but your head snaps in his direction nonetheless. “hey, anton,” you greet him despite knowing that he’d have a lot to say about your current position. he nods his head in acknowledgement before pursing his lips. you brace yourself for whatever comment he’ll inevitably make next, morphing your lips into a straight line.

“you know,” anton starts, and you’re already holding back the urge to groan. “wonbin never lets any of us touch his hair like that.”

“right, because you guys are always so eager to play with my hair, huh?” wonbin quips sarcastically. anton shrugs, although wonbin isn’t looking at him. “so you’re saying if we wanted to, we could?” anton questions, moving across the living room to grab his phone charger, finally remembering why he had walked into the room in the first place.

“nah,” wonbin replies, “not sure why you’d want to, anyway.”

“i don’t see you questioning why y/n wants to do it,” anton insists, already making his way out of the room, pausing momentarily to hear wonbin’s response.

“she doesn’t need a reason,” his older friend says, “she’s y/n.” anton shakes his head and continues on his way. you resume treading your hand through wonbin’s hair as if nothing had happened, but unbeknownst to the boy sitting in front of you, your heart rate had increased at his words.

“he’s just jealous,” wonbin jokes. you only let out a short laugh in response. you wonder how he would react if you informed him that anton had actually sprung up that conversation because he knows about your tremendous crush on the raven haired boy.

“do you think you’d ever go blonde?” you inquire, changing the subject. he lets out a snort and tilts his head to look back at you. you’re grinning, trying to ignore the way your heart does somersaults in your chest.

“i don’t think the world is ready for that,” he laughs.

“what are we laughing about in here?” a voice sings from the door way, ripping your attention away from wonbin. you turn to the perpetrator and lock eyes with sungchan, who sends you a smile. you wave at him and he takes it as an invitation to sit himself down on the couch beside you.

“nothing much,” wonbin answers. your hands finally retreat from his hair and you miss the way his shoulders slump in response.

“right,” sungchan nods, turning his attention to whatever you and wonbin are watching on tv. in actuality, neither you nor him have been paying the television any mind for at least an hour, and only now do you realize that some sort of ocean documentary has been playing this whole time.

a few minutes of silence proceed before sungchan clasps his hands together and stands up from the couch abruptly, startling you.

“man, this has been boring,” he announces, eyes darting between the two of you, seated in the same positions as when he first entered the room. “do you guys even talk?”

“we were, actually, before you walked in,” wonbin mutters, not meaning for his words to come out as sourly as they do. sungchan raises his hands in the air in defense. “hey, my bad. i didn’t realize the two of you were having an ocean documentary date,” he retorts.

“we’re not having-“ you’re about to correct him, only for him to cut you off.

“but, you know, bin,” he says, “i’m not sure how sangah would feel about you having a movie date with another girl.”

you feel like your entire world freezes over the moment you hear those words leave sungchan’s mouth. you quickly rid your face of your crestfallen expression, not wanting to give yourself away.

“who?” you can’t stop yourself from asking, and sungchan just stares at you. wonbin waves his hand dismissively, shaking his head in annoyance. “shut up, dude.”

“wait, y/n doesn’t know about sangah?” sungchan asks, a genuinely confused look crossing over his features. “i thought you guys told each other everything.”

wonbin groans in irritation. “i haven’t told anyone, actually, because it doesn’t matter. you only know because you’re nosy as fuck.”

sungchan chuckles, and you would attempt to let out a halfhearted laugh if you didn’t feel like your chest was aching. you lick your lips and stare questioningly at the side of wonbin’s head.

“look, bro,” sungchan gestures towards you, causing wonbin to turn around and meet your disheartened eyes. his face drops slightly, and you’re not in the correct headspace to try and pinpoint why. “she’s upset because you didn’t tell her!” his friend chimes.

wonbin shakes his head, still looking at you. “she’s just some girl,” he huffs. “i don’t even know her that well.”

you scoff before plastering a wobbly smile onto your face. “i’m not upset,” your voice quivers and you hope that wonbin doesn’t notice it. you’re not sure why he decides to reassure you about sangah— whoever that is— but you pray that it’s not because he’s known about your pathetic crush on him all this time and is now feeling bad for you because he’s currently seeing someone.

of course, only your cruel mind could formulate such a sickening thought.

“i’m just.. surprised,” you conclude with an unconvincing nod. wonbin closes his eyes in annoyance, and you know it’s because of his intrusive friend standing in the doorway. “sungchan, just stop spreading shit around, alright?” he gives him a tired look, finally getting up from the floor. as wonbin makes his way past sungchan in the doorway, the taller boy gives him a playful slap on the shoulder. with wonbin having left the room, you find yourself looking to sungchan with urgency.

“who is sangah?” you plead, trying to keep your emotions at bay. the boy furrows his eyebrows, confusion settling into his features once more. “why do you care, y/n?” he asks. you know that his question doesn’t come from a place of mockery, but rather genuine interest. it hits you in that moment that sungchan, as smart as he is, happens to be absolutely terrible at taking a hint.

somehow, when it came to the long lasting feelings you harbored for one of his closest friends, sungchan was none the wiser. you surmise that he wouldn’t have teased wonbin so openly about another girl had he known about your feelings for the long haired boy.

that, you suppose, you can’t really blame him for.

“um,” you start, “he’s one of my closest friends.” your words are spoken through gritted teeth and clenched fists. “i’m just curious, you know?” the lie comes out easier than you think it should’ve.

sungchan hums, crossing his arms and giving you a curt nod. “just some girl,” sungchan tells you, repeating wonbin’s words from a few minutes ago. “yoon sangah. she’s in our music fundamentals class. like, 2 days ago, i think, she wrote her instagram handle on a slip of paper and gave it to wonbin right in front of me.” your face falls for what seems like the millionth time in the past 10 minutes. you can only offer the tall boy a nearly inaudible hum in response.

“do you think it’ll lead to anything? you know, between her and wonbin?” again, you can’t stop yourself from asking. you feel sick at the thought of playing into the role of ‘jealous, overthinking girlfriend’, and even sicker at the fact that you and wonbin aren’t even dating. what right do you have to be inquisitive about his love life?

still, you can’t help it. when sungchan takes a bit longer to respond to your question you fear you’re treading on dangerous territory, afraid that even the dense boy you’re conversing with may have cracked the code. the grin that he aims at you a few seconds later serves as reassurance that, no, he still doesn’t know anything.

“that’s a good question, y/n dearest,” he pats your shoulder lightly. “i guess only time will tell.”

you hate yourself for what you’re doing right now.

looking back on the conversation you had with sungchan hours prior to this moment, you recalled him mentioning that sangah had given wonbin her instagram. thus, like any normal person would do in your situation, you took it upon yourself to go through wonbin’s following list in an attempt to find her.

you scroll past your own account, past the accounts of your mutual friends, and a few people who you presume are some of wonbin’s classmates.

when you finally stumble across sangah’s account, your body fills with dread before you even see a proper photo of her.

judging by her profile picture alone, you can tell that she’s pretty. you’re fully looking at her profile now, and your frown only deepens. she’s beautiful.

you shake your head as if it would help ease your racing mind. she’s beautiful, yes, you think, but looks aren’t everything. you find yourself childishly crossing your fingers that sangah had the personality of an evil witch, so that even if wonbin fell victim to her physical charm, he’d be pushed away by her true nature.

you let out a quiet scoff. you can’t believe you’re sitting here thinking badly about another girl just because she might have a crush on the same man you’ve been in love with since the day you met him. in the same sense, you can’t believe that when you say that sentence out loud, it actually sounds a bit reasonable. you blame sungchan, for a moment, drawing the inference that you wouldn’t feel so insecure right now if it hadn’t been for his previous teasing.

you can’t stop yourself when you click on one of sangah’s posts. she doesn’t have many, but the few that she has have seemed to gather thousands of likes. despite this, you take note of the fact that wonbin doesn’t have any of them liked— thank god, you think to yourself. you start to analyze her photos, the faces she makes at the camera, the outfits she wears, the way her hair is styled. when studying her facial expressions, you wonder if she’s made those same faces while looking at wonbin. when taking her outfits into consideration, you wonder if wonbin has seen her wearing any of them and thought she looked particularly nice. whilst examining her hair, you resist the urge to rip out your own. it’s perfect. she’s perfect.

she’s perfect, and from what you can tell, you aren’t anything like her. so what does that make you?

you move to close the app, feeling filled to the brim with self doubt when you suddenly freeze as your phone vibrates. you hesitantly open your dms and your eyes widen as they fall upon the newest message.

[3:02 AM] 1bin_02: why are u awake

your heart races and you momentarily contemplate if wonbin had somehow set up a security camera in your bedroom without your knowledge because how on earth did he know?

you don’t ponder on the matter for long, the aforementioned boy sending another message merely a few seconds later.

[3:02 AM] 1bin_02: u have ur activity status turned on btw

exhaling a breath of relief, you type a response to him.

[3:03 AM] you: why are U awake park wonbin

[3:03 AM] 1bin_02: i just woke up like 5 minutes ago. my y/n senses were tingling and my unconscious body felt a disturbance

[3:04 AM] 1bin_02: kiddinggg

[3:04 AM] 1bin_02: but fr why are u awake

you hold your breath as you type out your next response, choosing to be daring. you decide that, even if it’s only for a few seconds, you’re no longer going to be a coward.

[3:06 AM] you: i was thinking about u

[3:06 AM] 1bin_02: ditto

[3:07 AM] 1bin_02: i know im amazing and everything but don’t let me stop u from getting ur beauty rest 🙄 jk

[3:07 AM] 1bin_02: gn dummy

you decide against saying anything else, shutting off your phone with a sigh. you are a dummy, you think, and the boy who had just given you that title has no idea that it’s all because of him.

you’re exhausted the next day, concluding that being awake at 3 in the morning despite knowing that you had a class at 8AM was not the best idea.

wonbin is quick to take note of this, poking you on your side as the two of you follow your usual route to your next lecture of the day. “i bet someone regrets staying up until 3AM, hm?” he doesn’t bother to hide his smirk as you swat his hand away. “like you weren’t up at 3AM, too,” you mutter. he clicks his tongue in response. “that was only for a few minutes,” he says, “who knows how long you were awake for, though.”

before you’re forced to dignify wonbin with a response, anton and seunghan walk up to the two of you, the latter offering a wave while the former only smiles.

“where are we headed, guys?” seunghan asks, throwing an arm around wonbin. the boy attempts to shrug him off to no avail. “anton and i wanted to go get drinks and we were wondering if you guys wanted to come with,” he grins before quietly adding, “and maybe also pay for them.”

you laugh and wonbin turns to you upon hearing it, letting out a playful scoff of his own. “can’t, y/n has class in 10 minutes or so,” he turns to the two boys who now have their eyebrows raised in apprehension. “that’s where we were headed,” he finishes.

“and you’re walking her there,” anton nods, his words posing as more of a statement than a question. you can only dramatically roll your eyes. wonbin doesn’t seem to pick up any undertones, only nodding in response. “i might be able to tag along afterwards, though. no promises.”

“well, anton,” seunghan sighs, turning to his friend, “we’ll just have to take shotaro inste-“

the boy is cut off by the sound of a girlish voice calling out wonbin’s name. all 4 of you turn around in unison, and you feel like your heart has physically sunken into the floor. sangah.

wonbin’s at a loss for words for a moment and you want to run away more than anything. you’re not prepared to see the two of them interact, especially after looking at her instagram page last night. “hey, sangah,” is all he says, a smile plastered on his face that pains you to look at.

the girl is practically beaming. “what are you up to?” she grins, her eyes not daring to look anywhere but him. his eyes flicker to you momentarily, who is struggling to breathe.

“i’m walking her—” he gestures to you and sangah finally looks away from him, eyes now trained on yours, “to class. well, i was, before these two showed up.” wonbin waves a hand in anton and seunghan’s direction, the two boys adorning matching confused expressions on their faces. nobody moves a muscle for a few seconds and you’re afraid that your rapid heartbeat can be heard atop of the pin-drop silence.

“oh! my bad,” wonbin clears his throat, “guys, this is sangah,” he gestures towards the girl, “sangah, this is… guys.” he gestures towards his friends. “and y/n,” he gestures towards you for the second time, giving you a tap on the shoulder for good measure. sangah’s mouth forms an ‘o’ and she reaches out to shake your hand. you’re positive that if it weren’t for the freezing hallways of your university, your hands would be sweating, so you silently thank whoever’s in charge of the ac for seemingly always having it cranked up to the max. you and the girl shake hands, her smile noticably brighter than yours.

“nice to meet you, y/n,” she says. “you, too,” is all you’re able to respond with, smile tight.

“nice to meet you guys, too,” she waves at anton and seunghan with both hands and they wave back, offering their own respective greetings in return. awkward.

you cough, attempting to break the silence. “this has been fun,” you press your lips together for a second, “but i’ve gotta get to class. hope you guys have fun at that drink place later, or whatever,” you trail off, the last part of your sentence aimed towards anton and seunghan. “and it was nice meeting you, again,” you add, making eye contact with sangah. she smiles. you don’t say anything to wonbin as you attempt to squeeze past him, but he grabs your arm. “i’m walking with you, remember?” he says. you resist the urge to look at sangah or anyone else in your vicinity for that matter, surprised at his words. this random girl who’s obviously into him is standing only a few inches away and wonbin still insists on walking you to class.

“it’s okay,” you shake your head, unsure. wonbin can tell that you’re beginning to feel upset and he desperately wishes that sangah and even seunghan and anton were anywhere but here. “y/n-“ he starts, you cut him off. “it’s fine, wonbin,” you reaffirm. it isn’t, though.

you begin to walk in the direction of your class and release a breath that you hadn’t known you were holding. deep down, you wanted wonbin to disregard your words and resume walking with you, leaving sangah and his friends standing in the hallway. but wonbin was too polite for that, and you couldn’t even turn around to see if he had continued to engage in conversation with the 3 of them because you felt tears forming in your eyes. stupid, stupid, stupid, you think to yourself.

unbeknownst to you, sangah was able to sense the tension in the atmosphere before anyone had even said anything to her. she kisses her teeth, scratching the side of her head. “i should probably go, too,” she tells wonbin. the boy can tell that she would’ve liked to talk more, but he wasn’t looking to become friends or even acquaintances with her. doing that would only give her the wrong idea, and he didn’t want to have any bad blood with someone he’d be forced to see nearly everyday in class. the boy nods in understanding, giving her a wave. “nice.. talking to you,” he bids her farewell, unsure of what to say, because whatever had just transpired definitely did not qualify as a conversation. the girl waves back with an unwavering smile, walking in the opposite direction you had gone.

“oh, man,” seunghan lets out a laugh he had been holding in, “that was the worst. please don’t ever put me through anything like that again.” anton silently agrees, cringing.

“is it just me,” wonbin starts, ignoring his friend’s remark, “or did y/n seem kind of upset before she left?”

anton stretches his arms slightly, eyes looking anywhere but at his dark haired friend. “wonder why that might be,” he muses under his breath, but wonbin catches it. “what do you mean?” he pushes, looking his younger friend in the eye. anton puts his hands in the air in mock surrender.

“anton, what the hell do you mean?” wonbin asks again, voice tinged with annoyance. anton shakes his head, “figure it out.”

seunghan watches his friends go back and forth, a bit confused himself. much like sungchan, he seems to be completely oblivious when it comes to the way you feel about wonbin.

you’re currently sitting in class wondering why you even bothered to show up.

you knew before you even sat down that you wouldn’t be able to process a single word of the lecture, your mind thinking over your first official encounter with sangah.

ever since last night, you’ve started to dread moments like these— none of your friends being around to distract you, leaving you alone with your own miserable thoughts. it feels as though each minuscule moment of silence is filled with your insecurities being pushed to the forefront of your mind.

what did they talk about after you had left? did seunghan and anton decide to leave shortly after, leaving wonbin and sangah alone? did they grow closer in the small amount of time they were left together? even worse, what if the amount of time they spent together wasn’t small at all? oh god, what if they’re still together right now?

had anton, seunghan or, worst of all, wonbin decided to invite sangah to their aforementioned drink hangout? your mind drifts to the image of wonbin ordering a drink for sangah, the same way he always does for you, and you feel like bursting into tears similarly to the way you had almost done so on your way to class.

and sangah— god, you wanted to hate her so bad. your prayers that she had the personality of a wicked witch were thrown out the window the second she opened her mouth. she was so nice to you. the guy that she likes had openly expressed that he wanted to walk you to class and she still smiled at you. she’s got the most perfect appearance and most perfect attitude and you feel like you can’t compete with any of it.

you check your phone for the first time in approximately 30 minutes, eager for a distraction. you’re dismayed to see only 3 notifications, one from the boy who seems the root of every current problem in your life, and two from sungchan.

[10:04 AM] bin 🫶: everything ok??

[10:16 AM] sungchani: hey

[10:16 AM] sungchani: we’re all gonna hang out on friday night (as decided by me just now) and u will be coming! (also decided by me just now)

you open your phone, typing a quick response to wonbin about how everything is fine (lie) and sending another short message in hopes of steering the conversation in a different direction. you open the two messages from sungchan, shaking your head as if he’d be able to sense your attitude through the screen.

[10:48 AM] you: who’s “we” exactly…. and what will “we” be doing

[10:50 AM] sungchani: don’t act dumb girl… me, you, taro, seunghan, anton and wonbin obviously. was gonna see if eunseok and sohee could make it but i doubt eunseok would wanna and i think sohee’s doing some group assignment lolol

[10:51 AM] sungchani: as for your other question i was thinking about going to the movies yay or nay? (say yay)

[10:51 AM] you: pass

[10:52 AM] sungchani: perfect see u there!

you don’t bother responding to sungchan’s final message, knowing that no amount of opposition from you would deter him. he’d probably drag you all the way to the theater himself if he had to. but you really don’t want to go, feeling drained from the thoughts that have been plaguing your mind ever since sungchan mentioned sangah for the first time. you’d much rather spent your friday night in bed, trying to give your brain a much needed break. maybe if you really felt like torturing yourself, you’d pull up sangah’s instagram once more.

when class ends, you’re shocked to find anton waiting for you outside of the lecture hall. he’s holding a plastic cup filled with chai tea, leaning against the wall leisurely as he sips through an orange straw. he doesn’t look in your direction, which confuses you, because you’re undoubtedly the reason he’s currently standing outside of your classroom.

“lee anto-“ the boy in question cuts you off by lifting his index finger in front of your face, still not looking at you. you scoff in irritation, not wanting to deal with his antics in your current state.

“you’re coming on friday, yes?” he questions, his voice slightly above a whisper. “not if i don’t have to,” you say, your voice at a normal volume. anton, finally looking you in the eyes, presses his index finger to his lips as if to indicate that you need to be quieter. “you do have to,” he nods.

you pinch the bridge of your nose. “why the hell are you whispering?” you scowl, and he keeps his index finger on his lips. you groan before reluctantly lowering your voice to match his, despite the fact that you still don’t know why he wants you to do so. “what’s going on?” you inquire.

“you have to come on friday,” he repeats quietly, “and you’re gonna tell dark star that you’re in love with him.”

you blink. “who?” anton leans his head back in annoyance before mouthing, “PARK WONBIN.” you recoil for a myriad of reasons. “first of all, i’m not coming on friday,” your voice slightly increases in volume, “and even if i was, i most definitely would not use it as an opportunity to confess to wonbin. and why in the world did you just call him that?” you finish, exasperated.

anton only sips his drink, his aura calm and collected. “you’re going,” he answers pointedly, “because if you don’t, dark star is gonna find out either way.”

your eyes widen and you feel like all of the air has left your lungs. “what do you mean by that? you wouldn’t actually-“

“i would, though. if telling dark star about your crush on him would get you to stop pining after him like a fool, why wouldn’t i? and, in addition,” anton fully turns to you, his voice raising to a light mumble, “i saw the way you reacted when sarah started talking to him earlier.”

“it’s sangah,” you deadpan. anton waves his hand dismissively. “not the point. with the way you acted earlier, you would’ve thought they were getting married right in the middle of that hallway,” he sounds concerned as he speaks the words, not looking anywhere but at you.

“i’m not saying that wonbin— dark star, i mean, has a thing for sandra right now. frankly, i don’t think he cares about her at all,” anton continues, “but if you’re that worried about some random girl taking him away from you when they’ve known each other for like, a week, i think that’s a sign that it might be a good idea to tell him how you’re feeling.”

you look down, letting his words settle into your mind. “i’ll come on friday,” you nod, and the boy in front of you smiles at your words, “but i have to give the whole confessing to wonbin thing a bit more thought. i mean, it’s kind of sudden.” anton’s advice actually made sense, you think, but you’re not sure if you’re ready to tell the boy you’ve been harboring feelings for all this time that you’re in love with him on a random friday night.

“sudden?” anton asks, breaking you out of your thoughts. “i think it’s long overdue. fire tornado hector thinks so, too,” he tells you.

you turn to him, dumbfounded. “where the hell are you getting these names from?!”

friday night comes in the blink of an eye and you’re standing in the lobby of the theater with shotaro, anton, seunghan, and sungchan. wonbin is nowhere to be seen.

“i told him 7PM sharp,” sungchan murmurs impatiently, checking his watch. shotaro turns to anton, jokingly hitting the younger boy on the arm with a laugh. “imagine he just decided to stay home,” he chuckles, “i bet y/n would be relieved.”

“why would she be relieved?” seunghan intrudes curiously. anton shrugs. “i told her she had to confess to wonbin tonight,” he says casually, as if he hadn’t just revealed your not-so-secret secret to an unsuspecting seunghan. the older boy’s eyebrows raise at anton’s words, his lips parting.

“you like wonbin?” he questions you eagerly. “dude, i can’t believe you didn’t know by now,” anton answers in your place as you press your lips together. “and we won’t be using the name wonbin when he arrives. he’s dark star. the codename helps when you’re trying to be discreet,” he finishes.

“yeah, because you know all about being discreet, right?” you reply, voice laced with sarcasm. anton knows that you’re referring to the way he had exposed your feelings for wonbin merely 30 seconds ago, avoiding your gaze as he whistles idly.

“sorry i’m late, guys,” the man of the hour exhales as he walks up to the 5 of you. sungchan studies wonbin, unimpressed. the latter can sense his older friend’s agitation, clicking his tongue. “you’ll forgive me once you find out why i’m late,” he assures, “look who i brought with me.”

you can’t prevent the way your heartbeat escalates, both at the mere presence of wonbin and the words that have just left his mouth. you’re unsure if you even want to find out who he’s brought with him, fearing the worst.

“sohee! eunseok!” you hear sungchan exclaim, excitedly making his way over to the two figures that have just entered the theater. he wraps his lengthy arms around both of them simultaneously.

“guess our invitations got lost in the mail, huh?” eunseok muses, returning his friend’s embrace. the three of them return to where you and the others are standing and sungchan scratches the back of his neck. “my bad, man,” he utters bashfully, “the movie we’re watching is pretty lame. didn’t think you’d be into it.”

“still, it’s an excuse to see you guys,” eunseok shrugs, turning to greet everyone else. sohee does the same, wrapping his arms around you before anyone else.

“y/n! it’s been forever,” he grins, you return it. “it’s been… 2 weeks,” you tell him, hugging him back nonetheless. “i still missed you, though,” you hum. “stop hogging him, y/n!” seunghan teases, “we haven’t seen him in weeks either!”

the two of you release each other, and when you turn, wonbin is at your side. he taps your arm. “why don’t you greet me like that?” he feigns jealousy, pursing his lips. you smile at him, hoping to mask your nervousness, “i see you everyday.”

he rolls his eyes. “that doesn’t mean you can’t miss me.”

“i always do,” you say absentmindedly. by the time your words register, wonbin is already grinning. “ditto,” he mutters, his words meant for only you to hear.

he turns away before you can comment, and eunseok takes his place beside you. he wraps an arm around your shoulders, greeting you. you think nothing of his actions before he leans down, angling his head so that it’s directly next to your ear. “i heard about healing michael’s plan,” he whispers, “the one about getting you to confess to dark star.”

“please don’t start this,” you plead, “i cannot deal with these nicknames right now. and how do you know about that?”

“um,” he starts, moving his head away from yours, “obviously healing michael filled me in on everything. just because we don’t physically see each other everyday doesn’t mean we don’t have a group chat.” he moves back to the previous topic, “he threatened to tell dark star about how you’re madly in love with him, right? he’s bluffing,” eunseok explains, “if you confess to dark star tonight, it should be because you really love him. not because anton frightened you into doing it.”

you nod at eunseok’s words, unsure. “and,” he continues, “it shouldn’t be about some other girl that might like him, either.” he takes note of the way your eyes widen a fraction. “yeah, anton told me about that, too,” he nods as you make a mental reminder to yell at anton later for airing out your business.

“what i’m saying, y/n, is make sure that you’re telling him how you feel, not for anyone else, but for you. well, and for him. and for you and him, together,” eunseok concludes, “don’t let healing michael or sandy get in the way of it.”

“it’s sangah,” you sigh, in awe of the fact that you’ve had to correct both him and anton. sungchan appears to have heard your final words, perking up at the mention of wonbin’s classmate.

“sangah? we’re talking about sangah?” he blurts out, turning to wonbin with a smile. “bro, we totally should’ve invited her,” he jokes, slapping his friend on the arm, “seeing her and wonbin interact in the theater would’ve been hilarious.” everyone grows tense at sungchan’s teasing— he was somehow still the only one unaware of your feelings for wonbin.

wonbin only shakes his head in response, his first instinct being to look over at you. you’re wearing that same disheartened look on your face as the first time you found out about sangah, and he can hardly breathe. his eyes narrow at the sight of eunseok’s arm still hanging off your shoulders.

“sungchan, when does the movie start? we’ve been standing here for a while,” shotaro states, attempting to alleviate the situation. “oh, we still have about,” sungchan checks the time on his watch, “ten minutes before the trailers even start playing,” he responds.

shotaro ushers the group over to the concession counter, quickly making some excuse about everyone needing to choose their snacks for the movie. “amateurs,” sungchan mutters, “who doesn’t bring their own snacks to the movies?”

wonbin finds his place beside you again, briefly studying your features. he notices the way you stand stiffly in your spot and the slight wrinkle between your brows. “hey,” he tries to get your attention. your eyes soften as they meet his that are flooded with worry. “i’m sorry,” he frowns, “about what happened back there. i don’t know why he keeps mentioning her.”

you’re puzzled and, yet again, asking yourself if he’s apologizing because he knows that you have feelings for him or if it’s because he still thinks you’re upset that he didn’t tell you about sangah sooner.

you prayed that he wasn’t apologizing due to the former, but why would he even need to apologize if it was the latter? if nothing was going on between wonbin and sangah, he had no reason to tell you about her. you press your lips into a tight line. maybe that was it— something was going on between them. that’s why he’s saying sorry to you right now, because he regrets not telling you before when you’re supposed to be one of his closest friends.

and that’s all you’ll ever be to him, because you were too much of a coward to confess to him when you had the chance. you think about how disappointed your friends are going to be once you break the news to them that you wouldn’t be confessing to wonbin tonight, or ever.

“don’t apologize, wonbin,” you quietly tell him, and he wonders why it seems as though you’re about to cry. he shakes his head, getting the sense that you misunderstood his words. he looks back at your mutual friend group, seeing that they’re all preoccupied. wonbin seizes the opportunity, grabbing your hand and taking you to a secluded area of the theater.

“please don’t tell me not to apologize,” he breathes, “because i have so much to apologize to you for.”

you’re confused and concerned, your lips parting slightly. you don’t have the chance to savor the feeling of wonbin’s hand still holding yours because you’re mentally preparing yourself for whatever words he’s about to say. this is it, you tell yourself. you stare at the ground, anticipating the feeling of disappointment and rejection.

“i like you so much.”

you stop breathing as the words leave wonbin’s mouth. you’re terrified to look up, unsure if you’d even heard him correctly. he responds to your unvoiced worries by repeating the statement.

“i like you so much, and i’m sorry for holding it in this long,” he says breathlessly, “i’m sorry for letting sungchan talk about sangah all the time, because i didn’t want you to think that i could ever like anyone else.”

he continues despite your silence. “and i’m sorry for telling you all of this in a movie theater, of all places. i’ve been psyching myself up for weeks, but i couldn’t stand the thought of you not knowing any longer. i’m tired of misunderstandings.”

he finally takes a deep breath, and you look up at him for the first time. “are you serious?” is all you’re able to say. you want to be 100% sure that your mind isn’t being as cruel as it normally is when it comes to park wonbin.

he nods, appearing to be just as nervous as you are, and you think that’s good enough of an indicator that he’s not joking.

“you fool,” you breath out in utter disbelief, not knowing if your words are directed at wonbin or yourself. the boy looks troubled for a moment before he hears a noise similar to a sob leave your mouth.

you hide your face with your hands. “i was supposed to be the one to confess to you.”

it’s wonbin’s turn to be silent now, listening to you rant. “it was this whole thing— healing michael, dark star.. eunseok knew about it, and shotaro..” you trail off. your words don’t even make sense to yourself, and you doubt they make any sense to the boy in front of you. “my god, wonbin— i’ve liked you since the day i met you!” you cry, hands still obstructing your vision.

wonbin hesitantly takes it upon himself to grab your wrists, removing your hands from your face. “do you mean that?” he asks, trying to meet your gaze.

you don’t look him in the eye as you continue rambling. “i was so scared,” you tell him, “sungchan mentioned her out of nowhere that day and i was so scared. i thought she was your secret girlfriend, or something.” you feel stupid for telling him all of this, finally admitting to your jealousy.

“when i saw her for the first time, i thought it was over,” you shake your head, “someone so pretty having a crush on you? i felt like nothing next to her. sungchan even told me that she wrote down her instagram and casually handed it to you— i’d kill to be that confident in myself,” you’re not even paying attention to the words leaving your mouth anymore, wanting to get everything you’ve been holding in out of your system.

when you finally look at wonbin’s face, he looks sad, which startles you. you’re afraid that you’ve just killed his mood with your venting. “i’m sorry— i didn’t me-“ you’re interrupted by wonbin pulling you to his chest, shaking his head at your words. “you fool,” he repeats your words from minutes ago. “i can’t believe you’ve been feeling that way about yourself.”

he keeps you in his embrace as if you’d run away if he were to let go. “i can’t think of anyone prettier than you,” he mutters, “or nicer, or funnier. or anything, really, because i think of you more than anyone else. i guess it’s my fault, kind of. i could’ve expressed it in ways other than walking you to class and ordering dumb overpriced drinks for you.” you let out a quiet laugh at his last sentence and he smiles, pulling away slightly so he’s able to see your face.

“i guess we’re both kind of stupid,” you conclude, earning a nod from the dark haired boy. “only when it comes to you,” he says, “i happen to think i’m very intelligent on every other occasion.”

when you finally regroup with everyone, they’re all wearing looks of disappointment on their faces. upon asking what happened, eunseok shoves a thumb in sungchan’s direction, the brown haired boy adorning a sheepish expression. “this fucker got the time wrong. the movie was at 6:15, not 7:15,” eunseok grimaces, “i better get a refund for my ticket.”

“you didn’t even pay for it,” wonbin says, “i did. sohee’s, too.”

anton, having been the first one to notice both yours and wonbin’s disappearance from the group, narrows his eyes at the boy. “and where were you?” he raises a brow, attempting to look intimidating. wonbin dismisses him with the wave of a hand.

before you and wonbin decided to rejoin your friends, you had to tell him not to hold your hand, much to his dismay. only after discovering the reason why, did he reluctantly agree.

you stand as far away from wonbin as possible, putting on a melancholy act. shotaro is the first to take notice of this, putting a hand on your shoulder. “did you tell him?” he questions, your silence serving as an answer in itself. eunseok overhears, looking at you with pity in his eyes.

when anton finally sees the distance put between you and wonbin, he concludes that you weren’t able to tell him about your feelings. he sighs, shaking his head.

as if on cue, you look at wonbin with determination burning in your eyes, beginning to advance towards him. the group is silent as they watch the two of you curiously.

“dark star,” you begin straightforwardly, “i’m in love with you.” wonbin tries concealing his laughter as he swiftly takes in the reactions of his friends. eunseok smiles knowingly while anton and shotaro are wide-eyed. seunghan wears an amused expression, sohee’s eyebrows are raised, and on top of it all, sungchan looks incredibly confused.

wonbin, keeping up the act, covers his mouth in mock astonishment. “did you guys hear that?” he turns to his friends, who are now all aware that they’re being pranked. “my girlfriend is in love with me!” wonbin beams, “metal blaze, i accept your confession.”

eunseok clicks his tongue, nodding. “metal blaze, that’s a good one,” he notes under his breath.

“alright, we get it,” anton groans, “it took you guys long enough.” he turns to you, unable to stop a smile from forming. “i hope you know i was never actually going to tell him myself. i only said that in hopes of scaring you into telling him.”

you nod, “eunseok told me that already. and it wasn’t me that confessed to wonbin— he confessed to me.” everyone is shocked at your comment, seunghan walking behind wonbin and giving him a congratulatory slap on the shoulder. you purposefully skip over the fact that you all but cried to wonbin immediately after said confession about how much you liked him in return, and he pinches your side.

“you know, when you guys disappeared, i made a bet with shotaro that you guys were probably making out somewhere,” eunseok adds, “he said you guys were probably just in the middle of the whole confessing thing. i owe him seven bucks now.” shotaro pats him on the back with false sympathy.

as the topic of conversation shifts to something else, sungchan’s jaw is still practically on the floor. he looks at the way wonbin has his arm around your shoulders, head practically buried in your neck. he can’t stop himself from blurting out his next words.

“has y/n had a crush on wonbin this entire time?!”

AUTHOR’S NOTE! congrats to u if u survived reading all that ohhh lord i promise i’ll make y/n less unbearable next time but for now u guys are just gonna have to find it in ur hearts to forgive me… also it’s 5am rn and idk if i hate this fic umm we’ll see if i regret posting this when i wake up tmr

[ellecdc]

Heyyy! I’m usually a silent tumblr warrior but omg I keep coming up with so many different Au’s in my head. 🙈 Also I love your writing it’s godsent. 😏

Tonight I was thinking of Model!Reader x photographer!Remus 😖💔. Who are like totally obsessed with each other and are always supporting their careers. Remmy getting sooo many candid photos of reader and using them in his portfolio. Along with them both going to each others viewings/ runway shows. I just can’t omg so many possibilities ..🥲

~🪼

this is so. stinking. cute. the second I received this I had to send it to @maladaptiveescapism (my muggle AU queen who gifted us all the beautiful, beautiful man that is chef!sirius) and she came up with the SWEETEST meet cute. thank you for sharing this prompt, lovie!! I hope I did it justice <3

Remus Lupin x fem!reader who ends up being Remus' big break [2.6k words]

CW: fluff, swearing, reader has a dog and he's adorable, meet cute, fame

Remus needn’t look in a mirror (or one of the windows of the shops on the street) to know that his nose was pink; he had always been very sensitive to the cold, and it was only exacerbated by his love for it.

It was his favourite time of year; waking up in the morning when the ground was still covered in shimmery frost before turning into a misty fog as the sun poked its way through trees and buildings. The trees and grass were still grasping desperately at the shades of greens that it usually wore, but the leaves - determined in their journey - insisted on turning various shades of oranges, yellows, reds, and browns.

Remus loved them. 

He also found that people were perhaps their most beautiful when cold - he hardly ever left for his morning walks without his camera, which also meant he left for his morning walks without a pair of mittens or gloves which might impede his ability to control the lens and shutter - and there was something about the cool air that brought out the most beautiful colours in not only the trees, but also of the people. 

And Remus yearned to capture it.

He’d found a beautiful elderly man enjoying a mocha outside a small coffee shop who he chatted with for a while before he asked him if he’d be okay to take some pictures. Every crinkle near the corners of his eyes was evidence of laughter and joy, every wrinkle between his brow a testament to years of consideration and thought, every divot around his mouth was a story he shared, a kiss he gave, a meal he enjoyed. 

Every deep line on the man’s face - Albus had been his name - told a story, and Remus was lucky enough to have captured even a fraction of it with his camera. 

Remus’ fingers were struggling to thaw out in his pockets as he took the long way home - traversing through the quiet park in the centre of the city which was slowly becoming more lively as the morning wore on and the sun rose higher, though it was still quiet enough for Remus to enjoy. 

Some days he had more luck than others, not because there was a lack of beautiful people - because there was surely no shortage of that - but rather nothing that inspired Remus to create. 

Some days it frustrated him, and some days he was able to remind himself he was really doing this for fun and not being paid for his portraits save what small income he made through creator perks on various social media platforms. 

How nice it would be to get paid for his portraits, though. 

Remus had paused in his walk to bend over and pick up a disposable coffee cup from the sidewalk to put it in a rubbish bin when he spotted the perfect picture. 

There was a wrought-iron and wooden slat park bench a few paces away from the footpath in the park sitting in a lone ray of sun that managed to force its way through the treetops as if some deity had placed a spotlight on it to ensure Remus would notice it.

The patch of grass that the sun was kissing was melting into its usual green whilst the grass surrounding it was still its unique combination of dark sage, green, and silver courtesy of the autumn twilight.

A senior looking dog - a border collie, if Remus guessed correctly - attached to a simple red lead seemed to have found himself a good stick for chewing as he basked in the sun, the lead looped gently around the wrist of his person who sat on the bench with a ratty looking paperback in their hand. 

You were ethereal. 

You had one hand shoved into a knitted mitten whilst the other held your book, though a second mitten sat ready should you no doubt decide your free hand was too cold and needed to switch. You had multiple layers on and a comfy pair of shoes. Clearly out for a walk yet knowing that your dog did less walking now-a-days and spent more time in sunny spots with a nice stick, you came prepared with a novel to enjoy the transitionary season much the same way Remus did. 

And you were stunning.

You looked like a sip of warm apple cider, like the trees had parted their branches just to give the sun somewhere to direct its warmth and light, like the sun came out only for the chance of seeing you.

Remus actually took a look around him to see if anyone else was seeing what he was - nothing short of a masterpiece - but the masses appeared wholly unaware that they were in the presence of something hallowed. 

He lost his nerve more times than he could count as he tried to convince his boots to take him in your direction, to start up the conversation the same way he always did with every other stranger he stopped on the street to take their picture. But this felt different, you were different, you-

…were looking over at him; your dog ceasing to chew on his stick in favour of staring intently at Remus alerting you to the fact that you had an admirer (at best, or a stalker at worst).

To avoid looking like the latter, Remus forced his feet to bring him to you, smiling at you as you marked your place in your book and closed it before offering him a wary smile of your own. 

“Pardon me, I’m terribly sorry to intrude, but, erm, well-” sodding son of a bitch, stick to the script, “my name is Remus and I’m a street photographer, I uhm, I take portraits of people I pass on the street and post them to my socials.” He offered awkwardly as he pulled out his phone - numb fingers nearly dropping it as he raced to try to prove to you he wasn’t some creep with a long-distance lens on his camera hanging around public parks - wincing as the end of his sentence lilted up in the form of a question. 

“I couldn’t help but notice you and your dog, here,” he pushed on, said dog still watching him carefully and tilting his head at the end of every one of his sentences, “and you look beautiful- or, rather, it makes a beautiful picture! I, well, I guess I was wondering if you’d mind if…I took your picture?”

And by some absolute twist of fate, you had the good graces to simply smile at him like he wasn’t some awkward bumbling fool which only served to make you even more beautiful as you handed him his phone back.

“That’s really cool, Remus,” you offered, sounding as though you were testing how his name felt forming from your lips as you made eye contact with him, “thank you. I’d be happy to be your model.”

“Brilliant.” Remus let out with a breath of relief. “Now are you and…” he paused as he gestured toward your companion. 

“Ziggy.”

“...Ziggy a package deal or should I ask him his rates?” 

You let out a bubbly laugh which encouraged Ziggy to sit up - albeit slowly due to his age - and cock his head at you. 

“What do you say, Ziggs?” You asked the canine who cocked its head the other way. “Do you want to model too?” 

As if the dog knew you were waiting for a response, he let out a polite bark before laying back down. 

“Well there you have it, Remus; we’re all yours.” 

The picture returned to its previous perfection; between you returning to your novel sans one mitten and Ziggy’s focus back to his treasure, Remus was able to capture you exactly how he wanted. You were wearing a soft smile which only grew when Remus nearly bumped into a jogger in an attempt to get a different angle. 

You held your book to your mouth to hide your laughing as he called a hasty apology to the girl who barely slowed down on his account, and he shot a cute picture of you like that, too; your eyes full of mirth and crinkling at the corners in a quiet laugh at his expense. 

Remus was infatuated. 

It felt blasphemous in some way, but Remus had to admit he was very chuffed to have an excuse to join you on your alter bench, pretending as though you leaning into him - for warmth or for a better view of his camera screen, he wasn’t sure - didn’t make him feel like his heart was trying to exit out of his throat as you sung your praises for the pictures. 

“Remus.” You hissed as if you really couldn’t believe your eyes. “These are really good! Oh my god…”

Remus chuckled awkwardly as you brought the camera closer to you, ultimately forcing Remus to breathe your air as the camera strap pulled his body closer to yours. 

“You’re very talented.” You added earnestly  before looking up at him with something akin to awe. “Do you have a portfolio?”

“Erm, well,” he mumbled, suddenly very aware that he was nearly on top of a relative stranger in this public park at about 8:30 in the morning, “I…sort of? I mean, I have my socials.”

You nodded at him and looked back down at his camera before passing it back to him. “Are you going to post these?” 

“I’d very much like to, if you’re okay with that?” 

“Please do.” You agreed readily. “Do you tag people in your portraits?”

Remus nearly snickered as he thought of Albus this morning who seemed completely perplexed by the phone in Remus’ hand let alone by the concept of social media. “Sometimes; not everyone I photograph is online. Would you like to be tagged?”

“Yes please.” You beamed at him; Remus’ fingers itched to lift his camera back up to capture you like this, too. Fuck, you were beautiful. “My mum’s always saying she doesn’t have nearly enough pictures of me.”

“Well we can’t have that.” Remus chuckled as he pulled out his phone and opened the notes app so you could add your Instagram handle. 

“It was very nice meeting you, Remus.” You offered, and Remus felt something close to shock at how truly sincere you sounded. “You should be charging people for that.” You added, gesturing to the camera hanging from his neck. 

“I could always start now.” He offered in jest, and he was rewarded again by your bubbling laugh; Remus felt nearly torn at having to leave, every shift of your face and expression begging to be photographed, and every muscle in his body begging to do the photographing. 

But when he offered you a smile and a slightly awkward wave as he walked away  - the sound of your laugh still  echoing in his mind - he wondered if maybe, in some universe out there, there was a version of him that got to commit every expression that crossed your face - to memory or film, either would suffice. 

𓆱𓇢𓆸𓆱𓇣𓆱𓇢𓆸𓆱𓇣𓆱

The following day, Remus couldn’t escape the office meeting quick enough; his phone buzzing incessantly the last twenty five minutes of the forty five minute planning session - that he was supposed to be taking dutiful notes throughout - burning a hole through his trouser pocket and into the muscle of his thigh. 

35 missed calls from Sirius.

12 missed calls from James

Sirius: answer the fucking phone, you sod!!

Sirius: when the fuck did you take these!?!? (4 attachments)

Sirius: Lupin I STG

James: Lily is freaking out!!! Did you get an autograph??

James: who am I kidding. You had no idea, did you?

“What the fuck…” Remus murmured under his breath as he scrolled through the notifications on his lock screen, blushing something fierce when a coworker brushed past him reminding him he was supposed to be being professional which generally meant not swearing. 

The second Remus stepped onto the pavement outside of his building, his phone started ringing again. 

“What the fuck is going on?” He answered instead of saying ‘hello, Sirius; alright?’. 

“What the fuck is going on!?” Sirius barked back. “How about you tell me when the fuck you met Y/N L/N!?” 

Remus felt his eyebrows cinch as he pulled his phone from his face when another text came in. 

Lily: I’m so fucking jealous right now!

Lily: also, I should probably say congrats; I’m sure this is going to be great for your career!

“Remus!”

“Christ, Sirius, I’m here.” Remus muttered as he brought the phone back to his ear. “But I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

“Son of a bitch.” Sirius muttered on the other end of the line. “The pictures you posted yesterday!”

“Of the man? Or-”

“The bird! Remus! Y/N L/N!”

Remus suddenly realised why the name sounded familiar; it had been your instagram handle.

“Oh! Do you know her?”

“Do I know her? Mate, she’s fucking famous.”

“What?”

“She’s a sodding model! She’s been in Sports Illustrated, walked in New York Fashion Week and Paris Fashion Week, she was in a music video recently; fuck who was the artist…”

“Wha- what the fuck? How did I not know this?” Remus asked dumbly. 

“God, you’re thick. Did you not notice the fucking blue checkmark next to her name on instagram when you tagged her?” 

Remus was so glad Sirius couldn’t see him right now; he always felt properly chastised when it was Sirius handing his ass to him, but this felt bigger somehow. 

“Well… I don’t know, I’m verified too but that doesn’t mean anyone knows me!” He argued half-heartedly; he really hadn’t noticed…

Sirius snorted. “Yeah well, everyone’s gonna know you now, mate.”

“What do you mean?” Remus asked sternly.

“I mean” Sirius started theatrically “that she’s shared your original post to her story and posted your pictures to her page and tagged you as the photographer. She only posted it two hours ago and it already has almost 70,000 likes. Have you not looked at instagram?”

“Sirius, I work in a fucking corporate office, I can’t be on my phone all of the time.” He spat rather petulantly. 

“Bully for you.” Sirius muttered in response. “Check now then.”

Remus stole himself as he closed the call screen that simply consisted of a terrible picture of Sirius before opening up instagram. 

The notification tab simply read 100+, but when he moved to view his profile he realised he had gained nearly 10,000 followers just since leaving for work this morning. 

“Jesus…” Remus breathed out slowly. 

“You might want to put a portfolio together, mate.” Sirius offered, tone still slightly teasing, though the edges were softer and Sirius’ pride was nearly palpable even through the phone. “This might finally be your big break.”

All because Remus had noticed you - a beautiful girl - in the park with a book and a dog sitting in a lone ray of sun that managed to force its way through the treetops… as if some deity placed a spotlight on it to ensure Remus would notice. 

And of course he noticed you; how could he not?

I'd be happy to be your model. Do you have a portfolio? You should be charging people for that.

This might finally be your big break. 

Little did either of you know that you would end up being Remus’ big break.

[letbludcook]

warning. explicit sexual content,

tags. masturbation, mirror sex, cum swallowing, healing from SA (not explicitly mentioned), wholesome sex, your f/o being the most understanding person to ever exist in this cruel world

whenever you are striken with nightmares of your past, way before you were blessed with his gentle love and presence, you wake up in cold sweat, with sheer repulsion over being touched.

fortunately, your man never took it personally. in fact he's the one to remind you that it's okay, it's valid, and his girl is so strong for being able to survive everything she's been through. sometimes it takes you months without having sex; most of the time you pity him as physical intimacy is his love language, but his encouragement makes you survive the hell of it. gradually, with time and love, you manage come back to your usual self.

"what a strong lady you are," he assures you all the time.

however, you're not the only one being strong here—you affirmed that much when you woke up in the middle of the night and noticed him breathing heavily.

his hands are clasped to yours, and you can hear him moan your name repeatedly. you thought he was sick at first, but quickly noticed the synchronized up and down movements marking the blanket. 

he is touching himself.

you're not even hugging each other—it seems like he scooted you away from him before starting the act—all he settles for while pleasuring himself is holding your hand.

that consideration, toppled with your yearning to be touched again, is more than enough to rekindle your arousal and initiative.

you immediately scoot on top of him; he squirms in surprise, but your quick command comes to him, "continue touching yourself, my love."

he takes a while to process the situation, with a shy ask he averts his gaze away, "are you sure?"

"please?" you whisper, then pepper his face with wet kisses. your lips then slide to his ear; you give it a smooth lick before begging yet again, "let me hear you, darling."

it doesn't help him hold back, not at all, because you know his ears are pretty sensitive. in fact you only take advantage of it when you really want him to do something.

"y-yes—hah—yes, my love," he babbles, the jerking of his hand starts to produce a slick noise; perhaps his pre-lubricated dick helped on that. you continue kissing him while on it; moans escape as you feel him sucking on your lower lip.

"you'd let me taste, wouldn't you?" you whisper after sucking on his ear.

"d-do you—ah—do you want to—"

"i wouldn't ask if i don't."

and so, as languid as ever, you slide your hands down below and join his hand in bobbing up and down his dick. he whimpers, and somehow, the sight of your composed, level-headed man whimpering helplessly underneath you exudes blissful shudders. oh, to be loved by him. to be foolishly and utterly loved by someone like him.

"just want—oh fuck—just want to make sure," indeed, because after your assurance, he grips a fistful of your hair and then guides you down to his slick erection. the gentleness of his hold says a lot about how your moment below him would go. it is, after all, the least that he could do to compensate for how hard he's about claim your mouth. he couldn't control himself anymore. and he knows you want him to lose control. he, who has always been the epitome of control, could not embody such pride when faced with matters concerning your desires. if you'd ask him to die he'd be willing to do so then and there.

his girth filled your mouth; your eyes widen, and tears build up on the tip of your eyes as soon as he arches his back. he doesn't last long, much to your pleasure, because after five hard thrusts he immediately spurts his cum deep down your throat. even after he let it all out, he did not let go of your head. he trapped your mouth in his confines, ensuring you wouldn't waste a single drop because that's what you want. he would feel a bit shy if not for your persistence and enthusiasm. anyone would think that pampering him like this, drinking all of him so lovingly without wasting any drop, and more would be because you're under him, serving him with all you have.

but, as a matter of fact, he is the one serving you. he likes everything you want to do, everything you want to explore. hell, once you ask him for a child, he'd spend the whole night cumming inside you until you couldn't anymore and he's all spent and dry—messed up to his very core because that's what you want.

he almost laughs at his thoughts, and doesn't let go of your mouth even after his dick has softened. in fact, he even bobs your head up and down his now limp cock, pumping every last of his fluid that might be left of him. you deserve it, after all. earn your hard work. swallow every drop. have him by your mouth as earnestly as he would offer his life for you.

the next time you did it, he ensured there'd be a mirror right in front of you two. he takes you from behind, awkwardly at first, because you're not used to seeing yourself all pleasured and worked up while he pistons his hips inside. but then, whenever you stray your eyes away, he would adjust your head back to facing the mirror again as if to say; 'no, no, don't turn away. look at me doing you. i am the one making you feel this way, see that?'

and then he asks question he's been repeating since earlier, “am I hurting you, darling?”

“n-no,”

“yeah? come on, then. look at that pretty face," he punctuates the sweet whisper with a thrust, “see how well you’re taking me?”

“i do! hah, love, i—i'm 'bout to—"

"mhm," he closes his eyes and pulls you closer so he could nuzzle his lips on your back, “you’re clenching harder on me now, baby. are you close?”

"i am!" you lift your body up to see both of your features well—from how your breast bounces with every thrust and how his hands grip your waist to support himself. you savored the feeling—intense and rattling to your very core. his fingers flick your nipple, then he instructs you to lick your fingers too and play with the other nib.

oh, you want to close your eyes. you feel like you don't need the mirror for assurance anymore. he's the only one who could do you like this, the only one who could love you like this. you could finally relush the pleasure in without your past haunting you. and so you do—five seconds, ten seconds, until you hear his pants escalate to moans, ‘til his thrusts go rapid and unrestrained, 'til he’s blabbering how all of this affects him the way you do.

you reach your peak with a moan so loud neighbors might've heard it, and he follows suit not long after, loudly as well, because he's so aroused to see both of you lovingly doing each other in front of the mirror, all spent and sweaty.

you plop down the bed, but his hold doesn't falter. you feel his weight against your back, then he whispers sweet nothings while kissing your ear. “’s okay, it’s okay. open your eyes now and see me.”

you'll never know how delightful he is when you didn't flutter it open again; he feels your breathing slow down instead, and not long after, you drift to sleep with a smile.

indeed, it’s okay for you to close your eyes now. it's okay for you to be touched, for he is the only one who could do you this way.

WOLFGANG grimmer, KENZO tenma, TOJI fushiguro, NANAMI kento, KAGAYA ubuyashiki, REINER braun, LEVI ackerman

soooo this is an excerpt from my fave smut work way back :3 originally an erwin smith fanfic but when i reread it i realized i could also see the vision for my other fave characters:P

[perrywrites]

Asking “Can you… Can you hold my hand?” during your first time together, part 1;

NSFW

Includes; Isagi, Hiori, Bachira

Part 2 (Barou, Shidou, Karasu) and part 3 (Reo, Chigiri, Nagi) and part 4 (Rin, Sae, Kunigami) and part 5 (Otoya, Oliver, Yukimiya) and part 6 (Kaiser, Ness, Kiyora)

Isagi: he was nervous but eager to get it in. His hands had been trembling the entire time he touched you and stripped you, layer by layer, but now? Now he just wanted you. It’s when he’s laser focusing on you, his head heated up, blood pumping, completely out of it from the excitement of what he’s about to do to you, that your voice all of a sudden snaps him out of his reverie. “Can you… Can you hold my hand?” Can he hold your hand? Of fucking course he can. Shit, fuck, of course he can. “O-oh… yeah, yeah… I can do that,” he mumbles, fumbling for a moment, his hand quickly and clumsily reaching out to intertwine with yours, still pinning you down into the bed. His heart is still fluttering wildly from your cute request. Fuck, he feels almost embarassed somehow, for some reason, at himself, like a pervert, but at the same time, he can’t bring himself to care about it too much. He wants to make you his already, be inside you, claim you, claim this adorable woman asking him to hold her hand before he enters her. He was finally going to claim you after yearning for so long. He wasn’t going to be able to let go of you now, hand or otherwise. You’re giving him your first time, letting him make you his, he felt lovesick, heart clenching painfully. He’s your first, and he will be your last. Don’t expect to get away from him now. 

Hiori: he’s already holding it, wdym hold your hand? No, because this man, despite it being his own first time as well, remained slow and gentle throughout. He whispered words of love to you, a handful of precious promises, his lips ghosting and trailing across your skin with so much care. Hands lingering and caressing your body so tenderly, like you were the most precious thing in the world - and you are, you are the most important thing to him. Nothing, and I mean nothing, means more to him. So, of course, without even you having to ask, he would slip his hand into your hand, a warm lover’s lock, as he prepares himself to enter you. He is romantic, face flushed and eyes dazed. He can’t wait to be inside of you. God, it’s so sweet how beautiful and soft you look beneath him, all red and sensitive like that, all for him and only him. He’s yours and you’re his, and nothing can change that. You don’t understand how much you mean to him. You’re his sanctuary. His heart is yours now, permanently - or rather it had been yours since a long while ago. Don’t leave him. Since you’ve let him in now, it’s okay if he doesn’t leave, right? Because he’s not going to leave you, and he’s not going to let you leave either. Ever. 

Bachira: he couldn’t wait to be inside of you, oh god. His lips all over, he keeps on kissing you, eager, so eager, his hands are all over your body, squeezing and feeling you up, moans and groans pouring through his mouth inbetween kisses at. You feel so good, oh god, your skin was soft, so soft, so doughy. His lips vacant your trembling mouth, returning to your neck filled up with marks as he sucks another one into your bruised skin, never enough, god, he needs more of you, so much more. His hands grab your thighs and spread your legs open as he whimpers. “Inside… I need to be inside you so bad.” and he pauses at the sound of your shaky voice. You want him to hold your hand? Request granted. Immediately, he holds himself up with an elbow by your head, his other hand sliding across to intertwine with yours, and he’s peppering kisses across your cheek as he mumbles almost incoherently about cute you are. So adorable. Too adorable. You were letting him take your first time, just like that, huh? He was so happy, pinning you beneath him like this, his hand holding your trembling hand down as your dewy eyes quivered, shy. He was so happy you were his girlfriend, that you were letting him have you like this. After all, as he had decided a long time ago when he first fell in love with you, he was going to make you his bride, come hell or heaven. No other man would ever, ever get a taste of you. You were his, and only his. 

Who should I do for part 2? >:3c

[sl8yter]

3005 - Mühl

Don’t drink when you have an inexplicable yearning for your bestfriend.

Nika Muhl x Fem Reader

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You stood underneath the basket in the huskies gym. Lost in a daze as a familiar Croation girl was practicing her form. Her concentration left a mark in between her eyebrows and her lips slightly pursed. You had been thinking about how tough two had first met. Starting off as roommates who would speak maybe every other day to doing everything together. When you first started talking to Nika as a friend instead of a roomie, you had acknowledged the girls very obvious beauty. The way her eyes shined when the sun hit them, how whenever she was frustrated her accent would be more pronounced in every syllable, and how she was incredible person and an even better athlete.

Your fall for her was quick and without warning as you had begun to notice the way your body would involuntarily heat up with the smallest contact. Not to mention whenever she was just a little closer to you your heart would pick up and you could hear the blood flowing within you. Without your noticing Nika had stopped when she had realized your out of touch look.

“Hey are you okay?” Concern laced throughout her words.

“Yea sorry I zoned out.” Your response not convincing her as she started her walk towards you giving you a small smile. As she walked closer to the rim, she took out her ponytail and began to talk

“Are you sure? we can go, I was practically done anyways.”

“Sorry, I’m just not feeling a hundred percent today” Not lying but not being completely honest, the feeling of boredom from just catching Nikas rebounds was starting to get to you. You also just wanted an excuse to retreat to your dorm as it was starting to get late and you had an essay due later in the week.

“It’s okay, plus I know you have that paper due soon. Can we go out after you’re done. I kinda wanna get drunk tonight.” She smiles at you with a large grin at her last few words. Her eyes comparable to a puppies.

“I dont know Niks, I kinda just wanna stay in tonight.” Your response causing her to lock you into a tight hug, she moves you side to side as she began to yell please a million times over. Her grasp unrelenting until another girl clad in a UConn practice jersey walked over.

“Twin can you like stop making out with (yn) in the gym, thanks.” Paige spoke as she peeled Nika off of your body. Your face a slight hue of pink due to the hug and Paiges statement.

“See, look at her, poor girl.” She continues to point out the spread across your cheeks. All Paige ever did was tease you about Nika. She was a very observant girl, a skill acquired from years of basketball, so she was quick to deduce that you had a major crush on Nika. Faster than you were able to in fact.

She had offered to put in good word for you and try to “gas you up” to her. But you had declined in fear of rejection. All her past relationships were with men so why would that change now was your mindset.

“Ughh, she doesnt want to go out tonight, and I wanted her-”

“Youre going out tonight. Were actually all going out tonight. I know you have major FOMO too so boom I win.” Paige quickly cuts Nika off.

“Thats actually so unfair. What time?” You ask rolling your eyes, as you can feel a small smile move its way onto your face.

“9, Nikas driving since she offered, be at my dorm by 8:30.” Paige quickly finishes as her coach, Geno, walked into the gym area. Saying her quick goodbyes as she went to follow him.

“See this is why Paige is my twin, cause she always manages to convince you to go out with me.” Nika says smiling at you as she dragged you both out of the gym.

“Thats unfair Niks you know I cant say no to group events.”

“Well thats your fault you should already know to never say no to me.”

“How toxic of you. I dont know how I manage being roommates with such an evil girl.” You joke as she unlocks her car.

“Please, you love this evil girl. I see the way you look at me.”

You scoff at her reply, internally however, your heart racing in your chest. The last few words were dancing on the line of serious and playful banter.

A sudden laugh from her eases your heart however as you look out the window searching the tree line for seemingly nothing. Missing the look she gives you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“WHO WANTS SHOTS?” A drunked Paige shouts right next to your ear as she looks over your shoulder to see a good portion of her teammates. You recoil from the loud shouting, to be honest you don’t even remember arriving.

You look around the bar in search of Nika who had been missing for the better part of the meet. You remember her saying she was going to go the bathroom. In good will you started to make your way towards the bathroom hoping she wasn’t in there dying from what felt like a couple of hundred shots Paige had made the both of you down earlier.

“Yo (yn) wait” The same blonde stops you, gripping your shoulder and harshly turning you around. The alcohol seemed to make her forget her own strength as she quickly patted the area she grasped.

“Drink this, trust me.” She said as she handing you a long shot filled with a clear alcohol.

“What is it?” You pondered familiar with the looks of it, but with Paige you wouldn’t chance it knowing how much she wanted you to confront Nika about your feelings.

“Just trust me, okay? You’ll be more open with her I promise. And if it goes south, then you can take another and you wont even remember how embarrassed you are.” She answered your question with full confidence

Taking turns looking at Paige and the shot, not knowing if it was the alcohol that you had downed earlier finally kicking in or Paiges convincing smile, you had downed the shot quickly recoiling when it had burned.

“Fuck Paige, what is this?” You ask her as your face involuntarily scrunches

“Everybody’s favorite, Everclear” she laughs as she began to push you in the direction of the bathroom. When you had finally reached the door, she had pushed you in, giving you a small smile and thumbs up before locking the door from the inside and quickly retreating. From the outside Paige had found an out of service sign and promptly put it infront of the door before heading back to her teammates table, all while giggling to herself about playing cupid.

From inside the somehow empty bathroom you heard slight hiccups and a sniffle.

“Nika? Is that you?” You ask even though you knew it couldn’t be anyone else.

A few shuffles later from the other side of the large stall, the door opens and reveals a disheveled Nika, who very obviously had too much to drink.

“Take me to yours please” She stumbled out of the stall, collapsing into your arms as she put her full weight on to you. Her body was on fire, you could feel the warmth radiating from off her, it almost felt good if she wasn’t slick with sweat. Her head rested upon your shoulder as you took her back into the big stall, you walking forward as she walked backwards to which she rose her head and looked at you confused.

“I cant right now, Paige made me drink another shot and I can feel it in my legs.” You explained, you would of drove both of you home by now if you didn’t feel a fuzziness erupting from your lower half.

Nika released a big sigh before leaning herself against the wall and sliding down to sit with her head laid back against the wall and her legs fully extended.

“Sit with me” She had demanded without even looking up

“Yea no, that floors dirty.” The alcohol had you speaking without fixing your tone as you came off a little harsh.

“I don’t care I want you to sit with me.” Nika picked her head up as it was heavy to look up at you. The way the light had hit her eyes made them shine in a way that softened you. Without a fuss, you had begun to kneel down to sit next to her without even realizing. Her smile as your back rested against the wall made the grimy floor somewhat bearable.

“You make me feel so full” Nika blurbed out. Her cheeks dusted with a sheen of pink that complimented her tan.

“Mhm, remind me not to let you drink next time we go out.” You replied jokingly, if she had said that comment earlier when you were sober you might’ve exploded on the spot. Luckily the drink had calmed your demeanor and even made you a little braver.

“Actually, you know, like when im with other people. Its different. Empty, you know. Even with people im interested in, they never make me feel the way you do.” The way she stumbled over her words tugged strings in your heart.

“Who like your ex? Obviously Niks, he was kind of an ass”

She chuckles at the thought of her past lover and your obvious distaste for him. Sure he wasn’t that horrible but he only did the bare minimum. And for some reason Nika could never explain unless she was under the influence, whenever he or anybody, would fuck up her first thought was to compare them to you.

“Yea, but everything’s different when it comes to you” She said in a hushed voice, her eyes never moving off of yours. Instinct from basketball or not you relished in her undivided attention. It made you dizzy.

“In what way?” You asked, discreetly shuffling yourself a little closer to her body.

“Fuck everybody but you.” Her response made you smile. Here you were sitting with a drunken Nika who was trying so hard to explain herself to you.

“Fuck em?” You laughed out, her sudden brazen attitude towards the world surprised you. For somebody so level headed like her, she seemed like a teenager trying to find her way.

“Fuck em” She clarified while grabbing your hand. Given, she was usually touchy with you. But it felt different this time. The warmth of her hand had lit a possibility. Taking your chance, you interlocked your fingers with hers, taking your eyes off of her for a moment to fully take in the occasion. The way her hands were mostly soft except for some calluses entranced you. You used your other hand to trace her own. Slowly you felt her slump her head on to your shoulder. Her scent was overwhelming, invading your brain until all you could think of was her and nothing else. Nika was all that mattered.

She looked at you through her eyelashes prompting you to move your head ever so slightly to lock eyes with her.

Maybe it was the alcohol or the way you could smell her perfume but the way she was looking at you in this moment was unmistakable. It was the same look Paige would use to describe you looking at her. But she had slowly sat up, she was close enough that you could feel every little exhale against your face. It was a strange feeling, it felt so weird yet so right. Maybe it was the fear of your friendship breaking that made you turn to look straight ahead. But that feeling was quickly shut down when Nika had softly grabbed the side of your face, with her non dominant hand, making you look at her. Her touch felt like fire against your skin.

“Youre so pretty” Her sudden compliment made you feel even warmer. All her actions made you float. Youre head felt dizzy as you involuntarily looked at her soft plump lips as she spoke once again. Youre throat was dry, opening your mouth to try and talk but she quickly covered your mouth before you could speak.

“I wanna be by your side, but only of you’ll have me” Her confession makes you freeze in your spot, making you quickly sober up. You had started to smell the lingering alcohol that tinged her breath. As much as you would like to accept her confession, she was drunk. You doubted she would remember what she said in the heat of the moment. As your stuck in your thoughts, you feel your head moving down and see her features getting closer.

You stick your hand in between the two of you. Making Nika place her lips against the inside of your hand.

“Youre drunk Niks, let’s talk about this in the morning.” You managed to speak, regretting your actions however as Nika quickly stood up and with glossy eyes she managed to say in a broken voice

“This is so embarrassing, can we just forget I said anything. I don’t wanna lose you as a friend” She looked at you as you followed her up, you grabbed her hands, gently rubbing her knuckles as you assured her

“No, Nika I promise you I want you too. I just cant while you’re drunk. Youre so beautiful and amazing, trust me I want to kiss you so bad, I just cant while you’re drunk. Pretty bad huh, I got an amazing woman trying to kiss me and I refuse” You quickly joke hoping to put her at ease.

She stood there for a second before a small smile appeared with an even smaller tear cascading down her round flushed cheeks.

“Super bad” She replied as she put her arms against your shoulders, leaning her forehead against yours. Swiftly, you pressed a chaste kiss against her cheek before pulling her impossibly closer and hiding your face in her brown hair.

She laughed at your child like behavior but she couldn’t complain since she had longed for a tight hug filled with compassion from you. She didn’t even know she needed it until now. She felt a wave of tiredness wash over her as she whispered in your ear.

“Take me home please. Stay with me tonight”

“Of course”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You had blinked and suddenly had woken up with a familiar weight on top of you. Nika was acting like koala on your side as one of her legs lay across your belly and her arm across your front assuring her grip on you. Guessing from the fact that you both laid on the still made bed, you had both crashed as soon as you made it to Nika’s dorm.

With careful wiggling, you had managed to shimmy Nikas arm off of you as you decided to get up and try to surprise her with a good start to her day, a full breakfast. When you tried to lift her leg off of your stomach, she quickly parried by instead straddling you giving you a quick drowsy smile before leaning down to hide her face in the crook of your neck.

“Goodmorning” Her muffled voice vibrated against the skin of your neck, inadvertently making you smile.

“Goodmorning” You said while you wrapped your arms around her back, gently tracing shapes along it.

“So?” She asked

“So what”

“So wheres my kiss” She said trying to be brave but failing as you could feel her lips dance their way up your nape and to your jaw. Not even kissing, just grazing, which somehow made it feel even better.

She stopped right before she touched the corner of your lips to give a loving yet cautious look to ask for permission.

“I didn’t even get a chance to brush my teeth and you wanna kiss me. Just tell me how bad you want me Niks”

A soft giggle erupted from her as she smiled widely and slid off of your body and off of the bed. Her warmth quickly leaving you wanting for more.

“Youre right, I’ll show you after you’re done.” She said as she walked away, her body language very obviously taunting you as she left you in the empty bed.

Sitting up, you chased after her to find her with a toothbrush in her mouth and waving a new toothbrush package in the air before throwing it at you.

“Eager are we?” You tease her, she rolls her eyes at your comment before rinsing out her mouth and standing behind you as you applied toothpaste to your own toothbrush.

“Im gonna make coffee. I wanna talk more about last night” She told you before kissing your cheek and walking off.

You watched her leave in the mirror, admiring her back profile before finishing up your small task. As you walked into the open kitchen the smell of coffee beans hit your nose and one hell of a view hit your eyes. Nika was pouring 2 cups of coffee, one for you and one for her. It was something that you had seen before as you and the Croatian have had countless sleepovers but never in this context. It was something that you could definitely get use to seeing more often.

Walking up to the counter, you grabbed both mugs before heading into the living area and setting them on the coffee table in front of her couch. You turned on the TV and put on the news to a lowered volume setting for some background noise. For some odd reason you were nervous. Your heart was beating a little faster than usual. Even though you already knew what she was gonna say, she liked you. Right?

“Listen about last night.” Nika had started off as she walked around the small table to sit adjacent to you. Your legs touching as she slid closer.

“I like you, like really like you.” Her pronounced really made her accent come out stronger than usual. Her face was serious and her hands were clasped as she looked down at her mug filled with a light brown coffee. She was just as nervous as you were which put you at ease.

“I really like you too Niks. I wanna be with you too. Can I ask you something?” Her demeanor was more relaxed now as you were completely honest with her. A smile plastered across her face at the reciprocated feelings.

“Anything” She had answered

“When did you start liking me?” You had wanted to know since last night. The question was tugging at you. You had wanted to know how much time you had wasted being friends when you could have been in each others arms.

“I dont know the exact time I really realized. But I knew when I just couldnt stop thinking of you, day or night. Even in my dreams you would be there. I would compare everybody to you. You were my standard. Eventually I just realized I wanted to be with you.” She says before taking a sip of her hot drink. Her earnest tone made you go crazy. She was confessing her love for you, it wasn’t a dream, it wasn’t a delusion, it was real life and it felt so good.

“Mhm” was all you could reply with. You were afraid that if you did speak an actual word you would end up being too loud out of pure happiness.

“What about you when did you start liking me.” She had asked back. You looked down at the table for your own cup, grabbing it and watching the way the liquid would sway with every little movement.

“One day, a while back near the start of spring, I forget what I was doing but I felt sad. I felt like it should have been the two of us there. I forgot whatever I was doing, but I never forgot the feeling of missing you. I didn’t expect it to hurt so much. Then when I got back to my dorm, you were there waiting for me, already watching a movie and finishing off the last of my snacks. If it were anybody else I probably would of gotten mad, but then you got up and ran to hug me and asked where I had been and at that moment I felt a warmth. Like the kind that you get when you hug somebody you care for but it was multiplied by 100” You hadnt looked at her your entire speech. You set back down the coffee without even taking a sip. You just needed the focus on something else so you could speak your mind freely. Putting your attention back on Nika you noticed a look you had seen before. The same level of concentration she had while on the court except instead of a fierceness it held a soft look. As if she was taking in every feature across your face and engraving it into her soul.

“Can I kiss you?” She had asked, you smiled at her politeness, before nodding. Without a second between she had quickly leaned forward to press her lips against yours. Slowly, you moved your lips against hers. Taking in the softness of her lips and how she tasted like coffee. Not breaking the kiss, she had sat herself onto your lap as her arms wrapped around your neck ensuring you wouldn’t be able to back out this time. Not that you would.

Your hands found her waist. Firm from constant practice and conditioning, you started to grip her sides with your hands while also pulling her forward making sure your chests were flush against each other. Nika let out a soft groan as she opened her mouth, her nose brushing against your cheek as she went to hide her face in your nape, prompting you to kiss against hers. You kissed up and down her neck, her breath had fastened and she started to get louder in your ear. Her sounds made you grip her even harder as you opened your mouth slightly, you started nipping her. Making sure to leave faint purple and red marks across it. Nika had started to slightly grind on your body, erupting a feeling deep within your stomach before a sudden alarm went off on her phone making her quickly turn around to check it.

“Fuck!” She had yelled, extremely frustrated as she had hopped off your lap.

Stunned for a moment at the fact that your guys session had comed to an abrupt end. You stood up asking her what was wrong. Following her into her room as she threw some items from the drawers into her bag.

“I forgot today was Tuesday, im so so so sorry, I have practice today. Geno will kill me if I dont show up on time” She said quickly before heading back out of the room and grabbing her keys off of the kitchen counter.

“Please please please, be here when I get back.”

“So we can..?” You asked, you wanted to joke with her so she could see the irony in the situation, that and the fact she seemed incredibly stressed out over her coach and being late to practice.

“So we can pick up where we left off obviously. You have a weird thing for getting me to say that I want you.” She laughed as she stood in the door way.

“I just love hearing you say it. Sounds good” You smiled at her, admiring the way her hair was slightly frizzy and how pretty she was even with a bare face. If she wasn’t a basketball star she could have easily been a model.

“Okay, ill make sure to tell you just how much I want you when I get back, but you gotta be here babe” She had begun to tease you back, after giving a chuckle at her remark, she stole a quick kiss from you before walking down the dorm buildings hallway.

“I’ll be here, don’t take too long Mühl” You had said down the hallway. She turned around, and suddenly started bolting down the hallway. You didn’t even have a second to react before she kissed you in front of her dorm.

“I don’t know I suddenly feel kinda sick. Im going to text Geno that im going to get the doctor to treat me. Go to the bed. Ill be there in a second.”

Without saying a word, you swiftly turned around and made your way down the dorm and turned into Nikas large room. Sitting on her bed before hearing the door close.

“Yea, im going to see a doctor sorry Coach, yea her name is Dr. (yln). I will, thanks bye.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Okay W ending once again. Going to write the 2nd part to this later. Maybe post it in 2-3 days. This was my longest post yet brudda.

Send in some requests pretty please. Im out of ideas and had writers block before pushing this baby out at like 1 AM 🙏.

Also W you if you got the multiple references in this fic.

[chrisevansonly]

𝐅𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐁𝐞𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐝 | 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐬

ʚ lando norris x female reader (best friends to lovers!!)

ʚ you’ve always been in the background, never experiencing the love everyone’s talking too, except you’ve been watching lando experience that feeling your yearning for…are you really meant to be alone? or have feelings been kept hidden for too long…?

ʚ a bit of angst, slight arguments, miscommunication but super fluffy and cute too (i hate angsty endings, you all know this already)

ʚ hehe the fic is finally here! thank you to everyone who voted and helped me choose someone to write this for! i hope this is okay! where it says ‘best friends found a new guy, imagine it saying girl’

ʚ word count 2k+

Moved put to a new city, June is dawning down on me, and all that I can find….

You’d moved to Monaco to pursue a sports journaling degree when you’d turned nineteen, leaving the hustle and bustle of London to come to the glitz and glamour that Monte Carlo held.  The one thing that was nice is you’d been staying with your childhood best friend Lando ever since you moved to the city, more than happy to be back with a familiar face, not to mention being able to attend many events and grand prix’s to gain a more hands on experience with your degree. 

“Okay, are you all settled in?” he’d asked coming to his guest room to check on you

“Yeah, just a few more things to unpack, thank you for letting me stay with you”

He smiled 

“Of course, I love you, you know I do, wouldn’t want you to stay anywhere else!”

There is was, the constant three words that brought butterflies to your stomach whenever Lando said them to you. The two of you had always been affectionate with one another, but you couldn’t help but wish he meant it deeper than he did. 

“I’ll let you finish and then we’ll go get some lunch?”

“Sounds good! I shouldn’t be long!”

Nodding he looked around once more before leaving you to your thoughts once again, what a lovesick teenage girl you were. 

A sickly romance in the air, lovers stroll without a care in sight, oh this can’t be right…

If there was anything you adored more in life it was love, you’d always been a romantic at heart, but as you began to reach your twenties, never experiencing love romantically or ever really having your opportunity to be loved on that level, seeing the romance within the city streets had begun to bring a sudden dark cloud with it.

It wasn’t that you hated love, no far from, it was more a longing for that feeling of warmth and comfort that only a partner could bring, and wondering when it would finally be your time.

“Pipsqueak?”

Snapping yourself out of your daze, your eyes focused back on Lando who sat across from you at the café the two of you had been frequenting, his silly little nickname he had for you slipping out 

“Hmm? Sorry I didn’t hear you”

“I was asking if you wanted to come to the grand prix this weekend, I’ll get it organized with my team if yes”

You were quick to smile, nodding your head 

“Yes please, that would be great, I’ve got a paper to write so maybe I’ll find inspiration there!”

Lando nodded, the brit matching your smile, an unreadable emotion flashing across his eyes, but it was gone before you could figure it out

“Sounds good”

Cause the sun’s engaged to the sky, my best friends found a new guy, I’m only getting older, I’ve never had a shoulder to cry on, someone to call mine…

The paddock of the Hungarian grand prix was where you met Lando’s girlfriend for the first time, something you were not expecting to happen, and in all honesty, you’d wished you stayed home now. 

“Perfect, you’re here, Ella this is Y/N my best friend, and of course Y/N, this is Ella my girlfriend” 

You smiled holding your hand out to shake which she took gently 

“Nice to meet you! I didn’t know you were coming, if I did I would have stayed home, I don’t mean to intrude” 

Ella smiled sweetly 

“Oh no, I don’t mind having a buddy to walk around with, Lando’s told me lot’s about you, you’ve been friends since you were kids?”

And there was the word that soured in your mouth, friends, yeah you and Lando had been friends for years, and yet for some reason you hated that word with a passion, you’ve never had before 

“Yeah since we were kids!”

Elbowing Lando slightly he laughed, only when you joined him, it didn’t feel right and your smile didn’t reach your eyes. 

Why did you come this weekend. 

Everybody’s falling in love and I’m falling behind. 

-

Now almost 4 years later you were twenty three and finally finished your degree, working at a small publishing firm in Monaco, only you’d long moved out of Lando’s apartment and settled into your own little studio. You often looked back on how the weekend ended all those four years ago, Ella was great, she and Lando seemed perfect for one another, but you hadn’t expected it to be a huge problem. 

“Are you okay?” Lando asked, his hand touching your shoulder gently

“I’m fine, just super tired”

“I don’t believe you, I know you better.”

Taking a deep breath you continued to pack your things, getting ready for the flight home 

“Where’s Ella, shouldn’t you be with her?” you chirped back, trying not to give away your bad mood

“She’s packing and I wanted to check on you, what’s going on pipsqueak?”

“Well I’m fine, and stop calling me that.” 

Lando couldn’t get anything else in before you were snapping your suitcase shut and wheeling it out the hotel room door, confusion all he felt watching you walk away, he was determined to find out what was wrong.

Touched the ocean, fell right in, stepped outside and burned my skin, my life won’t go my way..

You had been falling for Lando ever since you were teenagers, his eyes trapped you into him, his words filling your heart with a warmth and love only he could provide, except he was never yours, and never would be. Life had a funny way of working you thought, it was almost too good to be true to imagine yourself and Lando getting together, despite the same idea from both of your parents. 

The more you saw Lando and Ella on social media together, the more you pulled away, a constant discomfort in your chest as you watched her have what you yearned for, holding his hand the way you wished you could, kissing his lips like you dreamed you could. 

She had everything and right now you had nothing. 

Bossa nova in my room, hope that I’ll find someone too to love…because the sun’s engaged to the sky my best friends found a new guy, I’m only getting older, I’ve never had a shoulder to cry on, someone to call mine. Everybody’s falling in love and I’m falling behind.

There had never been an argument so huge between you and Lando before today, it had been weeks of you avoiding his texts, calls, and missing out on weekly friend dates that he had finally shown up at your apartment, anger in his eyes. 

“I told you I’ve been busy Lando, can’t you accept that?”

“No! Because ever since Hungary four years ago you haven’t been yourself, ever since you met Ella something changed.”

You rolled your eyes at her name

“That’s such bullshit, I’ve just been doing my own thing and getting used to working, besides my degree was kicking my ass back then.”

Lando didn’t believe a single word you were saying, he could see it in your eyes you were lying 

“Stop lying to me, we used to be close and now you’re a stranger, I don’t even know who you are anymore!” his patience wearing thin and you could tell by the way his hands were clenching 

“Lando just leave!”

“Not until you tell me what’s wrong!”

“Go away!” you yelled back only causing the driver to yell louder 

“TELL ME!”

“I LOVE YOU OKAY?! It’s too painful to be your friend, my chest constanly hurts, I see everyone else have you all to themselves, watch you love someone else, hold someone else and I’m in the background, wondering when it will be my turn-”

You paused taking a deep breath as your eyes began to well up with tears 

“When it will be my turn to be loved, to love..to experience what it’s like to be happy with you, and I’ll never have that Lando, so just go!” 

Lando remained frozen, nothing coming out of his mouth which was enough for you to go upstairs and close yourself off in your room, figuring he would let himself out of your apartment and go home. Minutes later after hearing the door slam, you let yourself break apart, not caring if your neighbours heard the sound of your sobs.

Losing Lando for good, seemed better than settling for anything else. 

Everybody’s falling in love, everybody’s falling in love, oh..everybody’s falling in love but me…

Two months had passed since you’d had that argument, yet no matter what you did the ache never left, the hole remained where you once had him, only now it hurt more than before. What could be so wrong with someone that they’d never been given a chance at love, to feel that euphoric feeling lovers talked about. Truth be told it seemed like some sick joke to you, it wasn’t fair, even if you were being slightly dramatic, never having that kind of love began to affect someone as time went on. Leaving you feeling more insecure and even hesitant to imagine yourself with someone romantically, but let’s face it…you still weren’t over Lando in the slightest. 

It wasn’t until Friday night rolled along that you were making your way to the door of your home, fervent knocking could be heard on your door

“I’m coming, I’m coming!”

When you twisted the knob opening the oak door, you froze seeing Lando on the otherside, his cheeks a rosy pink as if he’d sprinted over, his eyes filled once again with the same emotion you couldn’t read the day you’d moved in with him, all those four years ago

“Lan what are you doing-”

“I love you too.”

His words flew out frantically, his hands wringing together

“Funny joke, see you later.”

“NO! Please…I-I just please let me in baby…”

Curse your heart for speeding up at the pet name, something that felt so familiar yet foreign to you. Despite the logical side of your brain telling you to close the door, you found yourself letting him inside, closing it behind him.

“Why are you here…”

Lando didn’t waste any time as he took your hands, holding them softly in his 

“I’m an idiot, and I only hope I’m not too late because I love you, so much and not in the way we used to say it as kids, god I love you with everything in me and all these years I’ve been so unfair to you, missing the signs, I should have known”

“What if it is too late?”

Hearing you speak up you watched his shoulders drop, maybe it was a bit mean to lie to him, but part of you wanted him to feel just a sliver of what you’ve been feeling for years

“Oh-um then just pretend I wasn’t here”

“Lando?”

You tightened your grip on his hands when he went to pull away

“Yeah?” 

“It’s not to late..”

Nothing was said between the two of you after you said this, your eyes meeting as you watched a certain light come back to his, knowing he hadn’t totally lost you. In this moment he did the one logical thing he thought of, pulling you to him and leaning down to kiss you, his hands moving to hold your face, like he was afraid you’d turn into dust and slip away from him. When you pulled away he kept your face in his hands, a little smile on your face 

“I love you Lan..”

He smiled leaning down to kiss you once more 

“I love you too baby…always will”

As you moved to rest your head on his chest you couldn’t help but feel your entire world shift, had this been the feeling you’d been searching for all your life? The love and the warmth you’d been deprived of for so long? Nowhere would feel like home more than Lando would now that you were in his arms, this was home.

“Lan?”

He hummed hearing your voice mumbled into his sweater, realizing this was where he was meant to be his whole life, and now that he had you, he would never let go, because a life without you, would be a life he would never, ever want to live again.

“Yeah?” 

A pause fell over the two of you before you hugged him just a bit tighter,

“Thank you for choosing me…”

[bb-eilish]

Dirty little fantasies

pairing; master!anakin skywalker x fem!padawanreader

warnings; Fantasies, pinning, corruption kink, virgin reader, dom! anakin, sub! reader, nipple play, creampie, hand kink, dirty talk, praising, degradation, cunnilingus

a/n; i’ve never written for anakin before but i love star wars and i love writing smut so here u go!

Y/n was honestly surprised she ever became a Jedi apprentice. She was much older than the younglings, but Obi-wan and his own apprentice, Anakin, pushed for her training anyway. The council questioned who would be training her, as all of the masters already had Padawan of their own. Her hopes shattered when Master Yoda pointed out the obvious fact.

She was told the force was strong within her , not sure what that meant, y/n smiled and became excited anyway.

"Master, my Padawan is surely ready for his test. He has my full confidence. He will be able to train her." Obi-wan stepped forward, eyebrows furrowed as Anakin nodded, a serious expression scorched onto his face.

The council all had similar curious and questioning looks, but nodded anyways. "Alright, we will allow it." Master Windu sighed, putting his hand up. Y/n's eyes widened and every fiber in her being felt on fire, this is the most exciting thing she's ever experienced, and it hasn't even started yet.

The three of them exited the room and immediately a hurl of thank you's and smiles gush out of her towards the men. Their faces softened as they smiled.

—————

Y/n was now an adult, though, she wasn't very young when she became an apprentice, only several years had passed. Anakin was a great Master and she felt very lucky. The way everyone talked about him was fascinating, they praised him left, right, and center. They even became closer than she expected, being closer in age than other Padawan and Master pairs made that entirely possible.

"Master, wait up. Why are your legs so long." Y/n complained as she jogged up to Anakin's side once more, she swears he can take two steps and be a mile ahead of her. He chuckles before saying, "You ask that every time we walk together." Her nose scrunches at his teasing. But at the same time, her heart skips a beat and she swallows quietly. Though, she tries her hardest to keep down the way her body practically yearns for him. The hardest part is keeping the thoughts, the oh so delicious thoughts about him, to a 0 whenever he's near. The force is amazing in so many ways but a real pain in the ass when all she wants do is day dream about him.

"Great job by the way, the mission wouldn't have gone as well as it did without you. You're becoming a considerable Jedi." He looks over at her as she thanked him. He can't help but think about how much she's grown while being under his wing. In power and physically. Anakin was no liar, he couldn't possibly deny the fact she has matured into a fully fledged woman, Padawan or not, he couldn't keep his eyes to himself. He had to push down the thoughts as well.

Anakin was fully aware of her daily thoughts. It made his day whenever he could know what she was thinking before she even entered the room. They were always innocent and random, until recently. Y/n clouded her thoughts much more, and at random times of the day and night, the hairs on the back of his neck would stand up, goosebumps would frost his skin and he had no idea why. The thoughts he could read were innocent in nature, but all about him. What he was wearing that day, how he decided to style his hair, certain things he said to her. His ego inflated each time and it made him even more arrogant and confident.

But alas, Jedi's were not allowed to become attached. He wondered if he needed to remind her of that, but he decided against it. Having a crush on him wasn't a crime.

—————

Anakin waited for her at her door that morning, he always does when they train at this time, which is only a few times a week. As he neared the door her thoughts became more apparent, at first she was busy with brushing her hair, then it was her tying her robes, and then they drifted off to him. He could see she was thinking about the time he had to help her untie the small knot she made in her robes. It made him smile, it was almost impossible to untie it. But his smile slowly faded as he realized her attention, unwavering, was directed to his hand. Not him untying the knot in general per say, but the way his calloused hand and metal one gripped the fabric, and how his very visible veins bulged through his skin.

He could sense how hard she focused on it, and how the thought of his hands sent her spiraling into day dreams. He was about to knock to end his spying before something caught him off guard. The waves of want that echoed from her, he could feel the stuttered deep breath she let out as she thought about his hands on her. How they would feel to prod at her most sensitive areas as he spoke downright sinful words towards her.

He felt like the air was knocked from his lungs as she thought in detail about the things he would say. The hair at the back of his neck reacted first, the goosebumps came second. "You're my prettiest girl , aren't you?" "Such a slut for me." "Use your words, angel." "You're mine, only I can make you feel like this." Anakin roughly shook his head before he breathed in and knocked on her door.

The thoughts ceased and his shoulders untensed because of it.

Y/n's door opened and there she was, smile as bright as ever as she greeted him. "Good morning, Master. A bit late aren't you?" She questioned, closing the door behind her with a wave of her hand.

He mustered up a smile as well as he answered, "Apologies, I was talking with Master Yoda." He patted himself on the back for not being suspicious as he lied through his teeth.

—————

Training was different today. No doubt it was about what he had walked in on this morning, but he tried his best to act like something wasn't bothering him.

Sparring was especially different, he was acutely aware of whenever he even placed a finger on her. She didn't seem affected at this but he knew. He knew the things she wanted him to say to her, say to her when his hands memorized her body, set her skin ablaze in their wake. It had a carnal desire simmering in his gut as he gazed at her sweaty form pant from the work she was being put through. So when training ended he made his way to the bathroom. Splashing cold water on his face helped the heat on his skin, but not the heat starting to grow in him.

Anakin fell pray to his desires, now instead of her imagining what it would be like to be underneath him, it was him imagining what it would be like to be on top of her. Looking down to see the look in her eyes as he touched her, made her his. The sounds she'd make as he stuffed her full. The mere thought had his pants tighten significantly. Would she cry as he stretched her out? Would she beg him to keep going? Better yet, would she submit herself to him, his mercy?

He manages, somehow, to collect himself before he leaves.

"There you are, Anakin. There is a last minute mission I need you and Y/n to do" Obi-wan told him as he lead him to the holotable. "Do not let him out of your sight, we suspect he's behind Senator Amidala's assassination attempts. He knows what you both look like though, so make sure he doesn't notice you." He explained further, Anakin nodded, going into serious Jedi-Master mode.

"I won't fail you, Master."

—————

After Anakin explained the plan to her she nodded along and followed his lead to his speeder.

"He lives in-" He pauses as he points to the apartment building they both come up to. "That building, there is two doors leading out, one in the back and one in the front. I'll take the one behind it." He parks the speeder where he could get in it quickly, but isn't suspicious. "We're close enough to speak through the force, so if something happens let me know immediately."

"Yes, Master."

He nods at her before speedily walking to the other side of the small apartment building. She pulls up the hood of her robe and tries to look the least inconspicuous as she possibly can.

—————

It's been radio silence for a few hours before the front door opens to the exact alien they're here for. She quickly lets Anakin know.

She watches the alien closely, walking behind him at a distance he wouldn't find strange.

Anakin catches up to her, both the Jedis watch the supposed assassinator from afar enter a bar. "I hate bars." She groans as he drags the Padawan inside the building.

"Uh, Master. Won't our hoods be kind of out of place in here?" Y/n points out, noticing the lack of clothes everyone is wearing.

"Oh, yes. Clever thinking, Y/n." He says, narrowing his eyes in search for the alien.

They both take a seat at one of the tables, eyeing the place until Anakin spots the alien, he's at the bar, downing what seems to be his 3rd shot. He stumbles a bit trying to get off of his chair. Both Jedi watch him go down the hallway that has the bathrooms, but also the back door. So, Anakin flags you over as he gets up. "Uh, Master. Isn't he just going to the bathroom?" She questions getting close enough to the hallway to peer down it. It's empty, aside from the usual couple making out on the walls. It brings a blush to her cheeks. No sign of the alien though.

They both walk further down the hallway until they both feel the door about to be opened, so Anakin does the first thing he can think of. He pushes his Padawan against the closest wall and kisses her. Trying his best to shield both of their identities, he pushes himself further against her and puts his hands on her cheeks trying to hide her face. She gasps in his mouth and her hands can't help but grip his robes.

She's never been this close to him, the feel of his skin on hers, his hands on her, feels like a dream. His intoxicating smell already clouds her mind. But the feeling is over before she knows it, the alien has walked back into the main area again. Anakin doesn't waste a second before following him.

Y/n stands at the wall still, hand coming up to touch her lips. That was her first kiss. Her first kiss was with him.

—————

The outcome of the mission was good, they ended up catching him and Obi-wan was happy.

The next day was training again for Anakin and Y/n. This time it felt so intimate, Anakin's touch would linger far longer than needed and he found any reason to touch her. It had her head spinning by the time they were done.

It apparently didn't stop at training either, Anakin would lead her everywhere with a secure hand on her lower back. He didn't comment on it so she decided not to either, in fear of him retracting the hand.

When he wasn't near, her thoughts were even more out of hand. Now, when she met up with him she was shyer than normal. A part of him regretted the kiss, he enjoyed it but he worried it bothered her. That night he made his way to her room, he wanted to talk about it without anything hearing.

And just like last time he heard her thoughts, here he was again. This time it seemed like she was already in the middle of her fantasizing. Before he could understand what she was thinking about, he knocked on the door.

It opened, the first thing he noticed was her big doe eyes staring up at him curiously.

“Master, what are you doing here?”

“Can I come in?” He asked, clearing his throat.

She nodded and he stepped inside.

The second he was all the way in he could feel the waves of want and desire once more, but this time they were all around him and it was hard to speak. Anakin swallowed, looking into her eyes as he began. “I wanted to apologize for what happened during the mission, I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable.”

She shakes her head quickly, “No No, it’s not that it made me uncomfortable. It was..” She pauses as she sits down on the edge of her bed. “It was my first kiss.” She flinches, she was always teased for not having kissed anyone while she was there.

He gulps this time, he can’t deny the feeling of pride that grew in him.

He sat beside her, contemplating his words carefully.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to take that away from you.”

She turns to look at him, the only light in the room shining from her small lamp on her nightstand brushed against his face, making his features soft.

“Don’t be sorry, I, um.” She stops herself before continuing, fearful of her words.

Her master eyes her, “You what?” He speaks through the force, gaze narrowing at her sputtering.

“I enjoyed it.”

They both stare at each other, his eyebrows furrow as he watches her face. Y/n watches the inner turmoil that’s present on his as a lock of his hair falls in front of his eyes. A hand comes up to her wrist, it glides upward, over her neck, and up to her cheek. It cradles her face as his resolve snaps. This kiss has purpose, he hopes she can feel it. The way their lips brush against each other is erotic and she can’t possibly hold in the small moan that’s threatening to spill.

The jedi pulls away slightly to eye her, his mouth is parted as he takes in everything she’s silently offering. His breaths fans over her face and it sets her nerves on fire.

The second kiss is full of lust and want, his gloved hand finds her hip before he decides they’re not nearly as close as he would like. The hand on her cheek slides down to her chest and gently pushes her to lay on her back, though, his lips never leave hers. He situates himself on top of her and pulls away farther than before. Gazing at her lidded eyes and soon the pout settling over her lips.

“My prettiest girl.” He sighs out, reaching up to run a nail up and down her neck.

“Master.” She begins.

“Anakin.” He corrects as the nail on her neck drifts down enough to pull her shirt away from her collarbones.

“Anakin..” She obeys, even if it feels foreign on her tongue. “I need you.”

“I know…you should really keep your thoughts to yourself yknow that, Angel?” The name has her eyes widening and a smirk gracing his face.

“How could you think I wouldn’t find out about all the dirty little fantasies you have about me?” He switches hands so his gloved one is pressed next to her shoulder on the bed keeping him upright, while the other one meets her hip again to push the fabric of her shirt upward, Anakin eyes the newly exposed skin and tugs at his lip.

“M’sorry.” She breathes as a fierce blush settles over her face.

“No need to be sorry…” He drags his blunt nails up her torso as he drags her shirt up, goosebumps tickle her flesh as a result. Even more so when he leans down to hover over her, now, exposed breasts. It doesn’t take long for her nipples to harden partly from being out in the open air, but mostly because of him.

The Padawan holds her breath as he nears the mounds of skin, it starts with dizzying kisses up the valley between them and then continues with him teasingly licking around one of her nipples. She gasps, her bottom lip caught under her front teeth harshly.

Anakin takes a full nipple into his mouth and sighs as the sounds he knew would sound so pretty, leave her. Especially the ones where she moans his name in that breathy voice of hers. Her back arches and it sends her breasts even further into his face. He removes his mouth for a moment, only to envelope the other nipple and graze his teeth ever so slightly against it, he takes in her gasps and whines and they all go straight to his ever tightening pants.

He pulls away again, this time to lean up and kiss her. Messily their lips slide together, he even experimentally brushes her lips with his tongue. But she pulls away, “What are you doing?” She asks curiously out of breath.

“Open your mouth for me, kay?” His gaze goes back and forth between her eyes to her lips as he talks.

They kiss again and he does the same thing, so, she opens her mouth. His skilled tongue licks into her unexpectedly and Y/n moves her hands to his clothed chest for stability, well, mental stability at least. Anakin then sucks her tongue rather harshly and it sends moan after moan into his mouth. He swallows all of them gladly as he feels himself become even more worked up.

He would love to keep kissing her, he honestly thinks he could do it forever, but they must keep going. She whines and chases his lips when he pulls away this time and it has his eyes darkening. The shirt she’s half wearing is thrown somewhere on the floor as he dips down to kiss her stomach, down her belly button and along the waistline of her pajama pants as he hooks his fingers along them, dragging them down slowly.

The pink underwear she’s wearing has a frilly bow on the top and he couldn’t handle it. It was like he was opening up his present on christmas, his little, angelic, present that wants nothing more than to have him degrade her. How could he possibly deny that?

“Such cute panties for someone who’s such a little slut for me. Tell me, Angel, would you let me fuck you anytime I asked? Would you let me fuck you in my speeder? On the holotable in front of everyone?” He skims his lips against the hem of her underwear once more as he eyes her like a predator.

“Yes, yes, would let you touch me wherever you wanted.” She panted out, gripping the sheets beneath her.

“You’re all mine, aren’t you?” He asks, pricking the waistband with his teeth and dragging the offending material down her legs. She couldn’t speak, the sight and the feeling left her speechless and unbelievably wet. As soon as the last of her clothing was gone the smell of her sex was utterly intoxicating, so he did the first thing he thought of. Prying her legs apart and pressing his face against her cunt. Y/n didn’t have time to worry about her being the only naked one, for that she was thankful.

Anakin truly believed he could die happily right now.

“Maker, you smell amazing. Bet you taste even better.” He practically moans into her, the vibrations send jolts of electricity up her spine and it causes her legs to almost close. But the iron grip he has on her didn’t allow for that. Even when he licked up the expanse of her heat and suckled on her clit, her thighs were begging to give out by then. The new feeling of his tongue was addicting, the way he licked into her clenching hole had her head spinning and heart pounding.

“You feeling good, Angel?” He pants against her, opening his eyes to gaze at her already fucked out form. A moan leaves her as she nods. His ungloved hand lets go of her thigh in favor of circling her cunt and pressing his fingers against her hole. She chokes out a moan at the action.

His mouth only leaves her clit to speak as he fills her up, one finger at a time.

“So tight.”

It has her clenching and he hopes he’s able to feel that around his cock. The fire consumes her from the inside out and all she can do is take it.

Y/n’s moans become louder and more frequent, that paired with the clenching she’s doing around his fingers, he assumes she’s going to come. So before she can, he sticks in another finger and scissors them inside of her, coaxing out an orgasm the best he can.

“Come for me, Y/n.”

Her limbs tense up as her eyes clamp shut, said fire is spreading through her, every finger, every fiber. The euphoric feeling is prolonged as much as possible because of his fingers and the mouth still sucking her pulsating clit.

When she comes back down he stands up, gripping his shirt and pulling it from his body. In her frazzled state, she eyes his stomach, his abs more specifically. His chest too, the way it heavily falls up and down from his deep breathing is hypnotic. His belt is pulled off, and soon he’s unbuttoning his pants, pulling them down and off. She can easily see the outline of him through his briefs and the fire that was just released in her seems to have come back.

Anakin watches her face closely as he slips down his briefs and kicks them off. Her gaze on his cock doesn’t last long he notices, her eyes fall to his hand that’s currently gliding up her calf. He can’t help but chuckle.

“You really like my hands, don’t you? Even the metal one?” He smiles at the end.

She nods shyly.

So he takes a detour, his hand comes up to her face, traces her jaw, then traces her bottom lip with his thumb. Her breathing changed almost immediately at that. He wonders something for a moment, so he trails his hand downward, ghosting over the base of her throat. She bites her lip again as he loosely grips her neck.

“So pretty with my hand around your neck. Are you ready for me, Angel?” He mumbles. She finds it hard to speak, the intense eye contact is quite distracting and intimidating.

But she finally gets out a “Yes, Anakin.” After he swats her thigh with his metal hand.

The hand around her neck doesn’t budge as he settles in between her thighs and wraps a leg around his waist. He watches his tip tap her clit and tease her until she’s whining. He can’t hold up the act for long though, he feels like he might explode if he doesn’t push inside of her soon. The initial stretch doesn’t feel good, even if Anakin is pushing in rather slow, it still has her flinching.

“It’ll feel good, Angel, don’t worry. Just wait.” He tells her, concerned. She nods in return, holding onto his waist loosely. He keeps his slow pace until he fully bottoms out, he’s sure he could come right now. Her walls latch onto him like a vice and she’s so, so, wet for him. “Fuck, Angel. So wet and tight for me.” He praises breathily.

She clenches at that and it has his brain short circuit. All he wants to do is move, move until he comes inside her, but he waits until she’s ready.

“You can m-move.”

The first experimental thrust is intoxicating for the both of them. He was right, it does feel good. Just him inside her feels good. Every vein and ridge is felt and she makes note of each and every one of them. Another thing she notes is how deep he is, she swears she can feel him in her stomach at this point.

It doesn’t take him long to set a good starting pace, one that isn’t too rough but still satisfying.

“Anakin, you feel so good.” She moans, hips absentmindedly raising to meet his thrusts. The hand around her throat becomes tighter as he groans out.

“Flip over.” He says all of a sudden, pulling out. Her reaction time isn’t very good right now so she furrows her eyebrows. Far too slow for Anakin, so he takes it upon himself to manhandle her onto her stomach. She lays flat against the bed as he forces open her legs again. This time when he pushes in, the stretch is delicious. It has her pushing her ass against him, “Already such a slut for me.” He mumbles as he hovers over her back.

One particular harsh thrust has a loud, pornographic, moan leaving her kiss-swollen lips. He narrows his eyes as his flesh hand presses into her spine, moving upward until it reaches the back of her neck. It swivels to the front, lingers over her windpipe, and drags up to her mouth, pressing firmly against her lips. So firm that her head is lifted into his shoulder as he begins to jackhammer his hips into her.

Leaning down to her ear, he begins, “Such a perfect cunt for me, Angel. Gonna fuck you any time I get the chance.” He groans, grinding into her before thrusting again. The moans leaving her vibrate his hand and he can’t help but thrust faster.

Her brain feels like goo and she hopes he doesn’t ask her anything right now. But, of course.

“Do you like my cock, Angel?” He asks as he moves his hand for her to answer. She only whines and nods, hoping that’ll suffice. But it doesn’t. He smirks as he leans in again, “Use you words.” His tone has goosebumps prickling her neck as she tries to muster up something to say.

“Mm, I- I love it, mm, Ani.” The nickname gets him where it hurts, he can feel how close he is. So, he abandons her mouth and moves his hand in between her body and the bed, circling her throbbing clit.

His metal hand grips the back of her head and pushes it into her sheets, keeping her quiet as he continues abusing her leaking cunt with his cock and fingers. Just as he begins to feel his orgasm coming even closer she babbles and moans, “Ani, I’m, oh my god.” As she clenches around him sporadically. “Good girl, come around me.” She does just that and it pushes him to the edge immediately, his hips stutter and his groans fill the room, he pushes to the hilt as he comes inside of her. Filling her up until it’s leaking out.

They both pant as he pulls out and she turns around. Anakin places a kiss on her lips, once, twice, three times before speaking, “You did so good for me, Y/n. So proud of you.”

“Thank you, Master.” She lazily smiles.

[dragon-kazansky]

The song in our hearts

Lestat De Lioncourt x Female Reader

A musician with a heart that sings and an admirer who wishes to see his songbird thrive. Two beings in different worlds get caught up in each other when someone threatens to steal his songbird's spotlight. Loving Lestat isn't simple, and your life will never be the same again. What is eternity without chaos?

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Chapter Five - Dark truths

You didn't sleep at all that night. You didn't leave the house all day either. You didn't even answer the door when Amelie and Jack came over to see how you were.

They knew Noah was missing. They didn't know he was dead.

When Friday came around and no one had seen you, Jack came to the house again. He pleaded with you to come and tell him what had happened. He asked where Noah was, but you didn't answer him. You didn't come out at all.

That night the show went on without you.

Lestat had been sitting in his box waiting for you to come on, but when the piano never got wheeled onto the stage, he knew he had messed up. Revealing to you what he was like that had not been what he wanted. He should have been more careful, but Noah was angering him. That meaningless man ruined your performance.

Lestat couldn't take it any more. With Noah gone you would be able to shine. Lestat would have done things differently. You were different.

The vampire didn't stick around to watch the end of the show. Your usual slot came and went and he knew you weren't going to perform tonight.

He went to your home.

I'm outside, Chéri.

Nothing.

Please let me in.

Lestat knew you were inside and he longed to see you. He wanted to hear your voice and see your face. He wanted to reach out and hold you to him. He wanted to explain things properly.

You refused to come outside.

His voice was in your head and it was pricing you crazy. How can his voice be in your head like that? Was he really a monster or were you too freaked out and messed up to comprehend anything?

You were afraid.

I know you can hear me. You have no reason to fear me. Harming you is the last thing I could ever want.

You don't believe him. He knows it too.

Lestat looks up at your window with longing. He yearns for you. He needs you. He wants you.

Please. 

The door opens. Lestat finds himself looking at you. You're a disheveled mess and he can see the fear in your eyes. He doesn't move.

“I am sorry you found out the way you did.”

“What do you mean…?” You ask cautiously.

“Me being a vampire.”

You shake your head quickly. “Vampires aren't real.”

“Oh, but we are.” He smiles at you.

You stare at him in disbelief. Was this man crazy? Oh no… you had been to his house! The house of a crazy person!

Lestat can hear your internal struggle and shakes his head. He steps a little closer. “Listen, Chéri, I am real. I am here. I want you.”

“Why? Why me?” You want to hide back inside your house, but you also want answers.

“You are… everything.”

You don't know what he means by that. Nothing is making sense to you. You can't help feeling like he's dangerous.

“I am dangerous.”

“Stop doing that! Stop… reading my mind!”

Lestat chuckles softly. “From the moment I first heard you play I knew I had to have you. You, Chéri, are everything and more. Talent like yours is hard to find in this world. It also helps you're the most beautiful creature I have ever laid eyes upon… Well, second to myself.” He winks at you.

He's trying to calm you down. You can tell he's telling the truth. Though you're not sure how much you can trust him.

“Do you not want a taste? To walk alongside the unknown?” He is feeding into your curiosity, luring you in. 

You squeeze your eyes shut and shake your head. “How do I know you won't just kill me like you did to Noah?”

“That useless man had it coming. He was abusing your talents with his awful voice. He wanted to use you for his own gain in the hope of using your popularity at the theater to get famous. Well, anyone who truly approaches music would know he had no talent whatsoever.” Lestat scoffs.

“He really is dead…?”

“Oui.”

You let out a shaky breath. “Oh God. Oh God! What do I tell Jack?” You pull at your hair.

“Tell him nothing,” Lestat says, coming a little closer to your door. “Noah has left the country as far as anyone is concerned. He had no relatives here, no actual influence on anyone. He's gone. Let me help you soar.”

You look into his eyes. He's looking at you tenderly. You want to believe he's being genuine, but is he?

“I wrote you a song…” Is what you say.

Lestat stares at you in mild confusion and surprise. “You wrote me a song?”

“I did… I was inspired after my visit to your home… and I couldn't shake you from my head.”

He grins. “Is that so?”

You nod. “You… You're like a headache I can't shift. Even when I put you out of my mind, you return later. Your name is always on the end of my tongue. I look for you every Friday night in your box. I sit at my piano and I hope with all my might that my music is enough for you. Why do I care so much about what you think?”

Lestat smiles. “Perhaps because you know I appreciate your art.”

You look at him in wonder. “Is that the case? Or are you just saying that to make me trust you?”

He sighs. “You're making this very difficult.”

“You killed Noah!” You say a little too loudly.

Lestat covers your mouth with his hand. You groan and bite his fingers. He removes his hand and grins. “If you're into biting, I can help.”

You worry if you roll your eyes too hard they'll fall out the sockets. “I need time…”

Lestat lifts his chin up a little bit. “Very well. Time.” He steps away from your door. “But please don't take too long.” He walks away.

Once he's out of sight you close your door and lean against it.

The next Friday you return to the theater and try to ignore the stares from other performers. However, Amelie and Jack could not be ignored. You would have to face them, which was why you had come up with a story. A lie. Lying to the two people who looked after you all these years felt so wrong, but telling the truth would be worse.

They cornered you in your dressing room. Jack had a whole speech for you, telling you he was so worried and he didn't know if he needed ro contact a doctor for you. You let him speak before deciding to tell them the story you had come up with.

“Noah is gone. He left. We had a huge fight and it got out of control.”

“Did he hurt you?” Amelie asks, coming to sit beside you.

“No. Not physically anyway. Just my pride,” you assure her. There was some truth to that at least.

“Why didn't you say anything?” Jack asks, looking at you like a wounded puppy.

“It was my mess. I didn't want everyone to get involved. Noah was using me for his own advantage and I had had enough. I play solo, Jack. No more duets.” You look at him firmly.

“Understood.”

“I was so worried about you! You wouldn't even answer the door…” Amelie looks at you sadly.

“I'm sorry… I just had a lot to deal with.” You give her a hug.

Jack sighs and looks at you fondly. “I should have been more firm with him. Your sponsor hasn't made a donation since…”

“No. I suppose he hasn't. Is my slot still open?” You ask.

“Of course it is!” He assures you.

You smile. “Then I'll be back to playing for you. Tonight too soon?”

“Not at all.”

With all that out of the way the two leave you alone to get ready. You sigh deeply and prepare to face the music once more.

Lestat didn't appear in his box that night. Nor the Friday after, or the one after that. In fact, for the next 2 months he did not appear inside the theater. He did, however, send donations to Jack. He stopped sending gifts to your dressing room too.

Still, you couldn't shake him from your brain.

As you went into month 3 without seeing him or hearing from him, you had begun to miss him. If Lestat had wanted to harm you, surely he would have done so by now. He has plenty of chances to.

You decided to write him a small letter. You had it delivered to his house, not feeling brave enough to go there yourself.

You had chosen to forgive him.

Come to the theater Friday night. Your box is waiting for you.

It was all you could think to do to get him to return to you. As you stood off to the side of the stage waiting for your turn, you felt terribly nervous. You almost felt like you were struggling to breathe. You had sent Amelie out to check the boxes. She seemed to be taking her time.

You had moments to go before it was your turn. Amelie appeared beside you. “What took you so long?”

“Mr De Lioncourt invited me to talk to him. He asked me to give you this.” She holds up the rose. You stare at it, mesmerized by the deep red color of its petals. You take it from her gently.

“This is for me?”

She nods. “He told me he was happy you had asked him to come back. Did you two fight too?”

“Sort of…” You reply softly, still looking at the rose.

“Well, he's glad to hear you perform again.”

“Good. Tonight is going to be special.”

Amelie wasn't sure why it would be special, but she was just happy to see you back where you belong.

Your name is called. You take a deep breath and walk out onto the stage, rose in hand. You lift your head up, but ignore the audience. Your eyes drift up to his box. Lestat is sitting there, smiling at you.

You're wearing the necklace he gave you months ago. You're clutching the rose in your hand. You're looking at him.

Lestat knows you've forgiven him.

You take a seat at your piano and place the rose down where normally the music sheets would go, but you don't need them. You're only going to play one song tonight.

His song.

You begin. Lestat's ears are blessed with a melody new to him. An arrangement he has never heard before. He doesn't need to read your mind to know this is the song you wrote for him.

He's completely enamored with you.

There's a depth to your song. Without words he can understand what you're trying to say. He knows why you wrote this piece.

You felt something that night.

Perhaps the same thing he felt for you.

He wouldn't deny it.

The music ends too soon for his liking. He watches you with keen eyes as you take a bow and exit the stage. He didn't want your music to end. Lestat rose from his seat and left the box. He had to see you.

Jack wanted to question why you only played one song, but you didn't give him time to even get the question out. You went to your dressing room and waited.

The door opened moments later. You stood from your dressing table and watched Lestat approach you. He closed the door behind him, keeping out the outside world.

“That song…” He started. “Was it for me?”

“Yes. Did you like it?”

Lestat smiled as he slowly closed the distance between you both. You felt like your breathing was too loud, that he could probably hear your heart beating too.

I can.

“How do you do that?”

“Do what?” He asks, grinning.

“Get in my head.”

He chuckles. “It's one of the many things I can show you.” He holds out his hand to you. It's an invitation into his life. An invitation into the night.

You take his hand.

Lestat smiles and pulls you in close. “do you trust me?”

“We'll see.”

For now, that's enough for him.

@awanderingghost @theprettiesthead @cosmixstar @theblueslytherin @katherine2098 @sawendel @floofdeloop @sitkafay @bigbaddie45 @bluscryn

@secretisme4

[venusiangguk]

the art of trying | jjk (m)

>>pairing: jungkook x reader / dilf!jk x grocery store clerk!oc

>>genre: friends with benefits, smut, angst

>>word count: 29.3k 😁

>>warnings: dom jk, sub oc, age gap, oc club era 🪩🥂, oc heart to heart with…, enter mr park seojoon !!, budding friendships 🥰, mending of relationships, enter dilf !!, reconciliation finally, but still we yearn, and jk is still a little stewpid, however!! he is doing his best!!, mostly oc pov i think, warning for a little bit of sad bc she is sad !!, but not too sad 😼, enter jock !!, dilf jk stuff: asking for permission, saying thank u, etc., fore play in the form of a lil dry humping 🫶🏻, finishes (multiple),, oral (m & f), dirty talk, lovesick gross smitteness 👎🏻, jreampie 👍🏻,  and finally, enter nari !! (🧋)

>>notes: finally am i right 🤣

this is part of my dilf jk series that can be found on my masterlist

>>summary: you’re trying to forget jungkook, but he’s trying to make sure you remember why you shouldn’t. 

It’s the middle of January and I haven’t learned to be okay without you, yet. The wind outside is harsh and cold. It hurts my feelings sometimes. 

 It reminds me of you, sometimes, too.

 I still miss you.

 “Girl, what does that even mean?”

 Your laptop gets slammed shut, and you whip your head around to see Binna. Your very best friend that has been caught red-handed, reading over your shoulder.

 “Do you mind?” you say with narrowed eyes.

 “I do actually,” she says, walking around the couch and plopping next to you. 

 You roll your eyes and rephrase with something she’s hopefully less likely to have an answer to. “Can I help you?”

 Binna looks stumped for approximately .4 seconds –not nearly long enough to be satisfying– and then she’s saying, “No, but you can help yourself. Please go to therapy. I am begging you and also I will pay for it.” 

 “Die.”

 “C’mon, you’ve been sad for like almost 2 months,” she groans, “and it’s like… tangible, ___. I walk into the house and I can feel it. It just permeates the air and– look, it even killed the plant.”

 Binna’s pointed finger guides your gaze to the small succulent on the windowsill and it’s a bit pathetic how your eyes start to tear up because it is in fact, the tiny succulent Jeongguk gave you so many months ago. You had done a good job of taking care of it for a while, his occasional texts reminding you to water it had been helpful. But lately you haven’t even really been taking care of yourself, and the little plant has, unfortunately, become collateral damage. 

 You also don’t get those texts anymore.

 With big watery eyes and a fat bottom lip, you turn back to her and she sighs. Grabs the remote and pauses whatever is playing on the tv. This makes Jade squawk, something about her watching it and it being the best part but Binna is having none of it.

 “No, this is actually dire. She’s crying over the plant, Jade. We have to intervene, it’s time.”

 Jade pouts for a moment, looking between the tv and you as if she can’t decide which is more pressing. When she crawls from her place where she was laying on the floor to your feet, it seems her decision is made. She rests her chin on your knee.

 “Still sad over the dilf?” she asks.

 You nod pitifully.

 “She was openly writing melancholy about him… it's a public cry for help,” Binna adds.

 With a nod of understanding, Jade says, “Writing can be a good way to get your thoughts together and work through them.”

 Choosing not to tell them that you don’t think you’ll ever be able to work through all the thoughts because there are just too many and it hurts too bad, you stay quiet.

 It’s not an awkward silence that takes over the living room, but you can tell that Binna and Jade are trying to think of something to say. Jade ends up being the one to interrupt the quiet.

 “Has he reached out to you at all?”

 The unanswered text on your phone started as a temptation, but it’s ended as a little memo that helps put things into perspective. 

 Did you get home okay?

 Jeongguk made his decision and he only sent you that text because he let you leave. 

 He sent you that text after he made it so incredibly clear that he wasn’t going to let you stay in his life.

 Despite you telling him you’d think about things, let him know what you decided in regards to you and him– he really didn’t leave much room for you to do that. He’s hard-headed and he’s extreme and when he makes his mind up about something… it’s not likely anyone will be able to change it. Especially if it has to do with Nari.

 And it’s not like you don’t get it. You do, to some extent at least. 

 Nari is his baby and Nari is his priority. Just like she should be. That’s self-explanatory and easy to understand. If Jeongguk felt you being in his life somehow messed with his priorities and decided it wasn’t going to work out between you two after giving it some thought– it wouldn’t have been easy, but you would have accepted it nonetheless. 

 But part of you believes he didn’t give it much thought at all because one moment he was washing you, taking care of you, kissing you. Making you feel like you were his and he was yours and like he cared. Like he was always going to be there; like he was endless. 

 Then the next he was telling you it was all basically a mistake to him. That he didn’t know if he had the room or the time for you anymore. Like you were an amenity with a timeframe. Something that was worthwhile, until it wasn’t anymore. Something nice that was momentarily useful, something that perhaps made his life better, easier in a way… but something that ultimately wasn’t necessary.  

 The turnaround was too abrupt and too abrasive and too rash for you to accept that it wasn’t impulsive. That he truly thought it through. You think that’s what’s hindering you from moving on. 

 A part of you almost wishes that you could fool yourself into believing he did mull it over. That he simply ‘changed his mind’. Because that’s better than the uncertainty that comes with him cutting you out so heedlessly. 

 If Jeongguk had a change of heart– it means that, at one point, his heart was sure of you; his heart did want you. 

 It’s deceiving, but it hurts less than the uncertainty. 

 The ache that comes with longing for what was is concrete and irrefutable in a bittersweet sense because at least in that case, what you’re yearning for was something that you had; something that was real. 

 You can’t pinpoint the pain that comes with uncertainty. There’s too much room for doubt, too many times you can mistake a ‘what if’ for a ‘what was’. There are too many ways you can spin the past if you’re not certain of it. Too many different outcomes you can craft. There are too many ways that uncertainty can hurt

 Jeongguk’s 180 took place barely within a few hours. Specific changes were instantaneous. Like the quiet unease that shrouded the atmosphere; the quick developing doubt that inevitably tainted both your affections. In all honestly, you could feel the shift as soon as he walked into the playroom after talking to Nari’s mom.

 Dasom.

 The things you feel when you think about her make you feel so ugly. Like your heart is rotten within your core, ruining you from the inside because it’s so easy to blame her and resent her for everything that occurred. Easy to pin the earth-shattering, tectonic shift in your and Jeongguk’s dynamic on her. It’s easy to hate her for the things she said about you, for the thoughts she put into Jeongguk’s head. But deep inside, right next to your rotten heart, there’s something small that’s telling you it’s easiest to hate her because you aren’t her. 

 An achy heaviness levels in your gut and you press your eyes shut tightly, consciously making an effort to not tear up. It still hurts so badly. In a way you don’t even really understand. You’re not sure if it stems from jealousy or insecurity or maybe both. 

 But there is something so excruciatingly painful, something that feels so devastatingly unfair, about Jeongguk and Dasom.

 It’s absurd and it’s stupid to let an ex get to you. You know that and you’re aware that it’s the past and that it’s over between them… but when you think about all of the history? It’s enough to overthink and compare. To wonder ‘what if?’, ask yourself ‘why?’ and ‘does he still?’.  

 Because they loved each other; were in love with each other. They had the sweetest little baby girl together. Dasom will always know Jeongguk in a way that you won’t. She will always know versions of him that you never will. She will always have a part of him and be a part of his life. She will always know him longer than you. No matter what –even if you and Jeongguk had stayed together, fallen in love, and gotten married– she was still there first. In a sense, you won’t ever be able to catch up to her– to them or what they had.

 You almost have to laugh at yourself for thinking like that because it’s so pathetically dramatic and pointless. Because yes, letting an ex get to you is both absurd and stupid. But especially so when you let it get to you after months. 

 Bitterly, you consider that maybe Jeongguk was right. Maybe you were too young for him, and maybe you really weren’t ready for everything that came with him.

 When your thoughts are reeled back in, you tell Jade about Jeongguk’s text you never answered.

 “God what a whore,” Binna groans. “What kind of person asks that after cutting you out of their life?”

 “A man,” Jade reasons.

 It makes you chuckle a small laugh, and the silence that settles this time is a little more comfortable. A couple of minutes pass with the three of you pretending to watch Jade’s show when Binna clears her throat.

 She tries to keep her voice light and casual, acts as if she’s just making conversation. “You’ve been lurking, no?”

 She will be disappointed when you admit that you’ve tried. But she’ll also be pleased to know that you simply can’t.

 “He doesn’t have Instagram.” You shrug your shoulders as if it’s not a big deal and like your recently searched isn’t full of accounts that have some variation of Jeongguk’s name in the user.

 “He probably has Facebook, he’s old,” Jade says absently, eyes glued to the television once again.

 Binna gets a worried look on her face when she can physically see the lightbulb go off in your head. Then her expression shifts into one of tired disapproval. “Thank you for that, Jade.”

 Jade’s reply is simply a preoccupied, half-hearted ‘My bad’.

 But you do not care and your phone is already out. 

 You’re trying to move on, you are. Truly. One peek won’t hurt. Also–

 “He’s not old, he’s only 29,” you say distractedly, waiting for the app to download before the phone is promptly plucked from your hands. “Hey–”

 “Give me that,” Binna interrupts, “If you look him up, you will come up in his ‘people you may know’. I don’t want that for you, and you don’t want that for you. Trust me.”

 With a frowny pout on your face, you settle back into that couch. “Well… I don’t want you coming up in whatever that is either, right?” 

 “You do not need to worry about that because I am a professional and I am crazy. What’s his last name again?”

 Professional and crazy sound like adjectives that are not supposed to go together, but you don’t argue and when she pulls out her own phone, you answer her. 

 Binna’s sleuthing seems to be entertaining enough for Jade to abandon her show, moving from her place at your feet to a seat next to Binna looking over her shoulder. Nervousness keeps you from joining, quietly just waiting for the few moments it takes for Binna to find what she’s looking for. 

 “Ah! Jeon Jeongguk, 30, C–” she gasps, eyes wide as she looks at you, “you didn’t tell us he was a CEO!”

 You shrug. “Didn’t seem important. And I told you already, he’s 29. Not 30.”

 Binna’s brows furrow before she’s looking at her phone again, bringing it close to her face and using her thumbs to zoom in on the profile picture. “Is this not him?”

 “No, that’s him,” Jade confirms, face close to Binna’s. “I’ve seen enough pictures of him in the groupchat that I also see him in my dreams.”

 “Please don’t dream about him,” you say musingly, reaching to snatch the phone from Binna just like she did to you.

 It is in fact your Jeon Jeongguk pictured on the phone. His profile picture is candid, him smiling wide with those puffs under his eyes, probably mid-laugh. But it still seems professional enough, he’s in one of his many expensive suits, with his tie on, and his hair done sleek.

 And you can feel how a small, sad smile comes to rest on your lips. You carefully click on the picture to see when it was posted.

 Just a couple of weeks ago. 

 And the small, sad smile gets even smaller and even sadder. He looks happy enough, and you hope he is. But it stings a little for some reason. 

 Then you remember why you pilfered the phone in the first place.

 Looking over his profile, you see the basic information. His alumn, his job, his hometown. You click the ‘about info’ option below all of that and it’s then that you see his birthday, and that his age is indeed 30. And you feel silly, a little embarrassed, for not knowing. Or maybe forgetting?

 Though, you’re almost positive you didn’t forget. That you wouldn’t have forgotten something like his birthday. That you couldn’t have because Jeongguk was your favorite person. 

 You trade Binna her phone back for yours.

 The photos in your camera roll on his alleged birthday are from what you thought was a random day that Jeongguk asked you to come over.

 It was kinda spontaneous for him. Considering he was someone that usually liked to plan, getting a random phone call from him while you were still at work was out of character. He simply asked if you wanted to come over. Just laze around with him, watch a movie, or something. Stay the night, maybe. He sounded slightly boyish when he asked, like he was trying to mask the hopeful excitement in his voice. You told him yes, of course, but that you wouldn’t be able to come until after work. 

 When you showed up at his, still clad in your work uniform, he was beaming. You barely made it through the door before he was literally giving you the shirt off his back to change into, helping you out of your polo and khakis.

 In the photo you’re looking at, your head is in Jeongguk’s lap and he’s shirtless looking at the tv with his hand over your mouth. You had been purposefully asking too many questions, just like you always did. The picture was taken from below so the angle is a little funny.

 And even though you’re smiling at the memory, the image turns blurry as you start to tear up. Something about it warms your heart while simultaneously breaking it. 

 Apparently, he didn’t want gifts, or anything extravagant. Seeing as he omitted telling you it was the one day of the year that everything was supposed to be about him, the one day he was supposed to be doted on. Jeongguk just wanted to be with you. Just your company was enough for him. Just you were enough for him.

 “He never told me it was his birthday, but he asked me to come over,” you tell your friends, with your thumb swiping through the many pictures you took that day. “Like me just being there was a good enough birthday present or something?”

 Jade can hear the waver in your voice, and she gently says, “Maybe we shouldn’t look at old pics if it’s going to make us sad, hmm?”

 “Maybe we should delete them, hmm?” Binna chirps.

 You hear them but you continue till you get through the whole night and the next morning. The tears are so heavy in your eyes, but you try to laugh, dabbing at your waterline with your sleeve when you say, “I like– really miss him, guys,” before you end up just covering your face with your palms and letting yourself have your moment.

 Jade coos, scooching closer to you, pulling you to her side. She rubs your shoulder soothingly. “I know you do, ___,” she says quietly. 

 Your roommate has really come a long way since the first conversation you had with her about Jeongguk. The other roommate, however, seems like she is regressing. 

 “We have got to get you out of the house and onto another dick. Your vibrator is tired and your pillow probably smells like the ocean because of all the tears it’s soaked up. It probably needs a wash, too.”

 “Binna!” Jade scolds.

 “No, like I’m so serious right now,” Binna defends, “I understand being sad over a breakup, but it’s been months. And over a grown man who lets his literal ex-wife, whom he divorced, still have such a pull on him? Like c’mon. What the fuck is that?”

 “She’s allowed to be sad! And those things you listed make her sadness even more warranted. You were holed up in your room for months too, at one point,” Jade reminds, “But it was over a boyband breaking up.”

 “In hindsight, it was very good for Zayn to leave,” Binna amends before giving you her attention. “Listen I get it, but I just want you to be happy again… You know?”

 When you peek up at her with a sniffle, she looks sad.

 “I don’t want you to get stuck in the sad and the hurt, ___,” she says quietly, “because sometimes when people get stuck in the sad and in the hurt, they can’t like– get unstuck. You know? Nothing gets better. The depression just swallows them and they don’t ever feel better and– I want you to feel better.”

 Binna’s not the most eloquent, but she has the biggest heart. And you know she means well, and despite how stuck in the sad and the hurt you truly are, you know that she does have a point. 

 You have to brood over it for a moment, and you kind of feel like you’re outside of your body when you agree. Like you’re hearing someone else say, “Okay, where are we going?”

 ~~~

 The club lights are too bright and strobing too fast, just asking for someone to seize. Your feet hurt because the heels you’re wearing are too high. You figured the weeks following New Year’s would be less crowded, that everyone would be recovering from blackouts and bad decisions. The sheer number of people around you tells you otherwise. You’re not having a good time. 

 When you tell your roommates as much, their response is handing you a shot. A few shots.

 And since alcohol is essentially magic, with every shot glass that is emptied down your throat, the night grows more enjoyable and less likely to be remembered. The lights turn pretty, and the ache in your feet becomes dull and muted, just like the one in your heart. 

 You’re dancing how a person who doesn’t know how to would. Hips swaying, arms occasionally going above your head before slinking back down and over your body. The bass in the club makes it feel like everything is vibrating and it makes you laugh dumbly, eyes squeezing shut as you giggle to yourself. You know Binna and Jade are close by, but it feels like you’re in your own little world.

 “I feel good,” you yell over the music to no one in particular. Eyes still closed, a loose-lipped smile lingering at the corners of your mouth.

 The warmth of a body can be felt behind you, though it’s not quite pressing against you yet. It doesn’t feel bad, and neither do the fingertips ghosting along the curve of your waist. You press into the touch, the heat, a little more. A chiffon chuckle is puffed over the crown of your head. The tentative fingers at your waist get more firm, their grip trying to steady you.

 “You look good, too,” the body behind you says, lips brushing the shell of your ear. It makes chills prick at your skin.

 You bite your lip to keep from smiling at the sensation, at the words. Your hand goes to cover the bigger one on your waist. You intentionally keep the touch constant when you turn around in their hold. Their palm slides along your body till it’s settling on your lower back just above the swell of your ass.

 When you look up, your reply gets caught in your throat.

 The owner of the warm body behind you is handsome, strikingly so. Tall, strong. Smile dreamy, and eyes dark. He gives you a soft grin accompanied by an encouraging nod, wanting you to say what you can’t seem to get out.

 “Uh–” you sputter with a wince, before clearing your throat, “I– yeah, um… thanks, you too.”

 You can’t hear his laugh over the music, but you can tell he’s amused by the way his chest rumbles, and how his eyes curl. The hand at the base of your spine moves to your hip, squeezing gently.

 His other hand is moving, too, and your track it till it’s tucking some hair behind your ear. You go still and flush when he leans down to your ear again. “I’m Seo-joon,” he tells you.

 Introducing yourself is the automatic reply he gets, and he hums, eyes scanning your face. The hand that tucked your hair trails down your arm until his fingers meet yours. They flirt for a moment before they lace together. His movements seem shy, but they’re actually very calculated. Well practiced. Like he does this a lot. Like he knows exactly how to get what he wants. 

 The realization sobers you some. Not enough to clear all of the drunken fog in your head, but enough to make you vaguely more alert. 

 “I think you’re a… a little too good at this for me, Mr. Seo-joon.” 

 Seo-joon briefly looks surprised, eyes widening like a child who’s been caught in a lie. Then he’s recovering, laughing. “Ah,” he muses, guiding your arms to drape over his shoulders, your hands interlocking behind his neck. His hands do the same around your waist as he pulls you a little closer. “I don’t know, you might be the one that’s too good? Too smart? Read me like an open book.”

 There’s a flutter in your tummy that you haven’t felt in months and it’s exciting. Makes you giddy as you blink up at him sluggishly, eyelids heavy. 

 “Are you not?” you ask him, coquettishly referring to him being easy to read. “Aren’t you here for the usual?”

 He looks up like he’s thinking. Then he’s shrugging, like there’s no point in denying the obvious. Crowding your space, cheek brushing yours as he talks into your ear again, he asks, “And why are you here, ___? The usual, as well?”

 Seo-joon doesn’t move out of your space like the times he did before, instead pulling you into him a bit more, making your space his space too. Lips brush against the corner of your jaw, just below your ear. Teasing, yet sure. 

 “I’m here to forget–” Your hand twines into the hair at the nape of his neck when he nips softly at your earlobe, making you gasp quietly, interrupting yourself. “–about someone.”

 He lets out a smug sound of understanding. “That’s about as ‘usual’ as it gets, ___,” you hear him say, before he purrs confidently, “Let me help you.”

 And when he molds his lips to yours, you expect the kiss to feel as good as the lead-up. 

 You expect the butterflies in your belly to flutter wildly– not go still. You expect the hands roaming over your body to feel rousing– not misplaced, like they aren’t supposed to be there. When you open your mouth to let him lick inside, you expect it to feel right. But it doesn’t. Sure, it doesn’t feel wrong, necessarily. But it doesn’t feel like it should. He doesn’t feel like he should.

 But you want him to. You want Seo-joon to feel right, and you want him to feel good. You want it so badly that you go home with him. 

 ~~~

 The cab ride is nothing but a precursor– something that needs to happen but not something that needs to be remembered. It’s just a soft blur that prequels his soft bed, his soft kisses, his soft pets. 

 Seo-joon is being gentler than he was at the club. 

 Under the hazy hue of the club lights, the strong hands that tugged at the straps of your dress were confident, cunning, audacious, and assertive. Boldly expectant of the outcome he was so sure he would get. 

 Under his sheets, those same hands are… not exactly timid, but ginger with their eagerness. Delicate, imploring, coy, and suggestive; tactfully encouraging, rather than expecting, the outcome that he hopes for. The way his hips brush against yours is unhurried and intentional. The crass, dirty movements from before that were careless and unrefined are long gone. Now he’s patient. Grinding into you slowly, deliberate.

 However, the change in pace, in the scenery, and in his demeanor– none of it makes the kisses taste any sweeter; none of it makes the touches feel any better; none of it makes anything good enough in the effortless way you long for. 

 It’s counterintuitive but the lack of ease, paired with the desire for it, just makes you try harder. Redouble your efforts.

 You press your lips against his in a kiss that’s harder, dig your nails into his shoulders with a grip that’s harder. When you cant your hips up against his just so– you do it harder. He gets a little harder in his pants, and the thoughts in your head get a little harder to ignore. Faking gets harder and pretending does too.

 Seo-joon is smart enough. He’s probably been around enough, too. With experience under his belt, it doesn’t take him long to sense the shift. The way your energy dulls, the slight tension tugging at your frame underneath him. But still, it doesn’t stop him from testing the waters one more time, giving you a few more unsure, assessing kisses. 

 To no avail.

 With furrowed brows, he pulls away. Seo-joon doesn’t look angry, though. Just confused as he braces himself on his forearms, lifting himself just enough to be able to take you in, most of his body weight still resting atop you.

 He clears his throat. “You don’t uh– you don’t really… seem to be– into this? Anymore? Into me?” 

 Your expression probably mirrors his. Confused, and maybe a little lost as you study him. Because he’s handsome. Almost unbelievably so, with his high cheekbones and sharp eyes; his nose and mouth that appear perfectly placed; his smooth, airbrushed skin.

 You should be into him. Superficially at the very least.

 But you just aren’t because even though he is handsome, flawless even, he’s attractive in a very ordinary, classical way. There doesn’t seem to be anything signature about Seo-joon’s features. 

 When he smiled at the club, it was idyllic and exactly symmetrical. His cheeks filled out, but just enough. His teeth –a dentist’s dream– were pristine, perfectly proportioned, and all of them just the right size. So white that they were almost beaming in the dim lights. 

 And even now, when he attempts an uneasy one to shake awkwardness it’s… fine. His plush lips are fine and his straight nose is fine and his even brows are fine and everything about Seo-joon is perfectly fine. 

 But, to you, he’s not really anything special. 

 Surface level, Seo-joon’s perfectly fine. But so are so many other perfectly fine, classically beautiful, ordinary men. There’s nothing that sets him apart. No defining characteristics, nothing about Seo-joon that makes him him. 

 Yet you can’t stop yourself from thinking that even if there were, it wouldn’t matter. 

Because you already know what makes someone special to you. 

 You’re well aware of the distinctive features that make your heart flutter. Like when someone smiles and their bottom lip tugs down just a hint farther on the left side. Or when they get little rounds under their eyes and scrunch their nose when they laugh. When he has things about himself that are slightly imperfect. Like big front teeth or a barely off-center freckle under his bottom lip. Like the deep scar on his cheek that he got from his brother when they were little. Or the faint one by his eyebrow from the piercing he had in college that had to be taken out before it was yanked out by a tiny hand. 

 The man you’re sharing a bed with could be the most uniquely attractive person on earth and it wouldn’t make a difference. It still wouldn’t make him special– not to you. 

 He’s not what you want.

 You hum when you admit it to yourself. 

 “I’m not.”

 Momentarily, Seo-joon looks taken aback by your seemingly rash rethink, but he takes your drunken bluntness in stride. He gives you a forced smile before he hangs his head in an apologetic bow, shifting from on top of you to lay next to you. “I see, I’m sorry if I assumed or overstepped or made you feel like you had to come home with m–”

 Seo-joon sounds guilty, and it surprises you when a hint of guilt starts to bloom in your chest.

 “You didn’t!” you interrupt, “I thought I was into you… or like I should be into you…”

 His eyebrow quirks and he just looks at you.

 “Ah…” you muse awkwardly, scanning the room. 

 It’s so very bachelor. Dark furniture, a big tv mounted on the wall, a little bar cart off to the side next to the mini fridge that’s kinda big to be called ‘mini’. Nothing personal at all that could tell you anything about him, except the boxers on the floor that tells you he prefers Armani. No hint as to what his goals or his hobbies are. 

 Perhaps it's a good thing you didn’t sleep with Seo-joon. Guys like him have the most brutal post-nut clarity and you’re not sure you could take another grown man hurting your feelings. 

 “I just don’t want you to think like– I don’t know? That you did something wrong? Or that you like coerced me into coming h–” 

 “Wait, I didn’t think that–”

 “–I’m the one that should be sorry!” you assure him, “Because I don’t think I actually went out to try and forget someone; I think I was trying to find them?”

 A couple of stilted seconds pass. 

 “In… me?” he asks, like he’s mentally trying to puzzle the pieces together.

 “I guess? Maybe replace them with you? Or like… use you… as a placeholder?” You wince helplessly at your choice of words, unable to stop them before they spill out. 

 Seo-joon’s confusion is replaced by a quick, bright laugh which is followed by a small smile that seems almost pitying. 

 “You’re still young–”

 You physically cannot stop the way you interrupt him with.

 “Please shut the fuck up.”

 The tired words are spat tartly before you can clench your teeth around them. It’s probably a defense mechanism– you’re not quite sure you can handle another grown man being mean to you, but you’re almost very sure that you can’t handle one lecturing you about how young you are, about how much life you still have left to live, about how your youth makes it difficult to know what you really want, about how–

 “Whoa,” he laughs. He’s on his side, his head propped up on his palm. He eyes you for a moment before he tugs the strap of your bra back up, haphazardly covering you again. “Sore spot?” 

 Pulling his sheets up for good measure, you pout. “He was older.”

 Seo-joon makes a noise of understanding. “Older like… older brother’s friends older? Or older like met him at your dad’s work party older?”

 Heat floods the rounds of your cheeks and you look anywhere but at the man next to you. No photos in frames. Not even a dvd collection that could tell you what type of movies he likes.

 “He’s like– dad old,” you murmur, chancing a glance at Seo-joon only to see him pull a queasy-looking face, and then you’re backtracking to defend yourself. “But only like baby-dad old! Not like– teenager-dad old!”

 He looks unconvinced. “How big’s the gap?”

 “7 years?” you try.

 Seo-joon goes from unconvinced to shocked and then to puzzled. “That’s like… nothing? Probably around our gap too?”

 Your hands fly up and you scoff a little as you exasperate, “That’s what I said!”

 He joins in and you both laugh in his bed until the giggles putter out into lazy silence. You’re pulling at a little tuft of lint when he hums.

 “He told you that you were too young?”

 You open your mouth to reply immediately, but then hesitate. 

 Because your age was part of it. Of course, it was, but was it all of it? Was it the root of it?

 “I mean you are; not too young, just… young. But–” Seo-joon grins smugly, giving you a pointed look when he sees you scowl, “–youth isn’t a bad thing. And you’re smart. I meant it when I said that.”

 Rolling your eyes, you say, “We literally just met–”

 “Yeah, and?” he counters, just for the sake of it because he still doesn’t allow a reply. “We only just met and I could already tell that you were smart. Even though I tried, I knew my… methods wouldn’t work on you. You read me like an open book,” he repeats what he said earlier that night, before speaking slowly like he’s spelling something out for you. “and I’m sure I’m not the only one you’re able to read like that?”

 Your scowl intensifies. “What are you getting at?”

 “This boy you’re trying to ‘forget’? ‘Find’?” The hand that’s not supporting him comes up and he makes some air quotes. His tone is a little softer, like maybe he’s trying to be gentle. Or maybe he’s just tired of talking to you. You can’t be sure.

 “I feel like you’re smart enough to know if the whole thing is worth it or not. How long ago was it?”

 “A month or 2… give or take 17 days…” you mumble, avoiding his gaze.

 “Okay. But yeah… that’s a good chunk of time…” he says around a quick yawn. Then he hums thoughtfully to himself. “I feel like you could think back and read the situation a bit more clearly now? Like, reassess it to… you know… I don’t know just figure stuff out…”

 “‘You know, I don’t know’, ‘Just figure stuff out’, ” you mimic dryly, “That’s all the advice you have to offer me when you’ve lived lifetimes longer than me?”

 “Listen, you can’t hate all men because of one man–”

 “Yes, I ca–”

 “Okay but, you don’t even hate that one man? That’s the whole issue?” Seo-joon interrupts. He lilts his tone up in an inquisitive manner, like he wants you to confirm. 

 You refuse and choose to reply with petulant silence.

 “Exactly. C’mon, use that big, smart brain in that pretty, little head of yours,” he encourages, “Look back and just figure stuff out. It might be hard, but not as hard as you think. I feel like time away from what we think we need or want, always puts things into perspective. Distance makes the heart fonder, or–” He pauses for dramatic effect. “It makes the heart indifferent.”

 Not rolling your eyes is a feat, but you manage. “Clearly my heart did not become indifferent if I am laid up with you and still going on about it.”

 Seo-joon hums again, carries on some more. But you’re not paying attention because maybe time didn’t put things into perspective, but his words just did.

 Distance and time make the heart indifferent.

 Jeongguk hasn’t been to your store once since you left his house. 

 You frown, connecting imaginary dots as a little wrinkle sprouts between your brows. “He hasn’t come to see me since he cut things off.”

 Seo-joon pauses mid-sentence, mimes your expression. “Did you expect him to?”

 You pause now. 

 “Um… kinda?” you start. Rolling to your side you copy his position so you can look at him. “I mean, I work at the grocery store he would normally shop at,” you explain, before tacking on, “That’s where we met. He lost his baby and I found her… Or– she found me I guess.”

 A small twinge of pain pricks your heart at the mention of Nari. You wonder if she’s talking, or if she’s at least getting closer. If she still doesn’t keep the sock on her left foot, or if she’s grown out of that nerve-wracking yet endearing little habit of hers. 

 What Dasom said about Nari getting attached comes to mind and you hope the little one is doing well. It hurts a little to think about, but you hope for her sake, that she didn’t get too attached or too sad when you stopped coming around. You hope she forgot you quickly.

 “Anyway,” you say, “Guess that means his heart became indifferent.”

 Giving a half-hearted shrug with a single shoulder, aiming to come off unbothered. Trying to act indifferent yourself, and like your heart didn’t just drop. You blink a couple of times in an attempt to clear the glassiness you know is cloaking your eyes and offer a weak smile.

 Regarding you with a slightly concerned color to his features, Seo-joon chooses to not address the passing mention of a misplaced child or the fact that you’re very close to crying while half-naked in his bed. Decidedly, he says, “I’m not sure if I would call avoidance indifference.”

 You sniffle. “Huh?”

 His eyes narrow and he looks like he’s debating something internally. Then he sighs. “Listen, I’m not trying to encourage you to wait for him or go back to him. Or like… give you false hope–”

 “Gee, thanks–”

 “No really,” he stresses, “because that genuinely could be nothing. Men are a bit dense. They do things that may seem calculated, but in actuality, they’re just daft and it didn’t even cross their mind. But in my opinion,” he continues slowly, a bit hesitantly, “Choosing to not go to the grocery store he –I’m assuming– frequented regularly? Right after a breakup?” He sucks a bit of air in through his teeth before he shakes his head. “Yeah, that seems like a very deliberate choice.”

 “Like indifference would be more–” he continues before pausing briefly to choose the right words, “I picture indifference as more of– him still going to your work, despite the breakup, because he just doesn’t give a fuck.”

 Whatever words you were planning to say get caught in your throat and you cough out a short laugh at Seo-joon’s straightforwardness. 

 He grins a little. “Right? Because that’s what it is– a lack of interest, lack of concern. Like he just doesn’t care one way or the other about you being there because you’re not important enough for him to be affected by you.”

 You know he’s speaking in hypotheticals, but it still sours your expression. Makes your lips pull down at the corners.

 “Personally, if I were him and I was truly indifferent, truly unbothered,” he places his hand on his bare chest, “you being there or not being there wouldn’t be significant enough for me to alter my routine.”

 Your eyes flit quickly over Seo-joon’s torso. His gesture causes the sheet to fall slightly, pooling at the subtle curve of his waist. There’s a faint warmth flooding your cheeks as you swiftly and intently bring your gaze back up. 

 You swallow before replying with a simple, “Ah… yes… that makes perfect sense.”

 Playfully, Seo-joon scowls at you. “You sure you don’t want to fuck?”

 “Yup.”

 “It may help–”

 “Nope, don’t think it will actually.”

 He shrugs, an amused grin still lingering. “Suit yourself–”

 “I feel like your post-nut clarity would hurt my feelings and I’m vulnerable right now.”

 It’s silent for 1, 2, 3 seconds before Seo-joon’s loud laughter echoes in his room. Failing to keep a straight face, he rolls on his back and rests his head on his pillow as he lets himself laugh to his heart’s content. Then he inhales deeply and scrubs a hand over his face and swipes a finger beneath his bottom lashes; catching his breath and regaining his composure and wiping away the wetness under his eyes. 

 A few seconds pass before he’s turning his head to look at you with a quiet smile. It feels a bit too tender, too sincere, and too heartfelt, for what was supposed to be a one-night-stand. 

 “See,” he says softly, “told you you were smart.”

 You just look at him, trying to read him like he’s so sure you can. There doesn’t seem to be any ulterior motives, just him being genuinely kind to you because he wants to be. And for some reason that makes your eyes burn.

 “If it doesn’t hurt too badly to revisit everything that went on with the boy,” Seo-joon begins, interrupting the light hush that settled between the two of you, “I really feel like you’ll be able to see things clearer; read the situation better. Figure stuff out. And then, things will start to fall into place for you. Everything will start to make a little more sense. You’ll know if you’re wasting your time being hung up on him, and if it’s worth your happiness. You’ll know if looking for him is worth the effort, and you’ll be sure that ‘finding’ him is actually what you want after all.”

 You’re definitely going to cry.

 “And when I said you were still young, and that your youth wasn’t a bad thing,” he continues, “I meant that if you decide that you do want to look for him, and you do find him again– you still have enough time to try with him again.”

 With a wobbly bottom lip, you feel your features slowly morph into a scowl.

 It’s self-directed because it’s then that you think about what’s happening and how ridiculous it all seems.

 Because why are you on the tail end of being drunk, half-naked in the bed of a grown man who you met just hours ago? Why are you telling him bits and pieces about the person he was supposed to distract you from? The person that caused you the most delicately painful ache that’s been festering for months? Why are letting this man give you advice? Why are you letting him comfort you? And why does it feel like he’s done a better job of it by just listening to you for the last few hours, than friends you’ve had for years? 

 And why do you feel like you’re going to cry about it?

 The self-directed scowl morphs to a Seo-joon-directed glare.

 “He’s not a boy,” you begin in a voice that shakes just a hint, arguing just to be difficult, “he’s a man with the cutest baby and he’s 30 now and–” The urge to cry cuts you off and you feel the first tear leak from the corner of your eye. 

 Seo-joon’s soft, sincere smile turns slightly sad as he tracks the salty drop. “Hey, don’t cry–”

 “Shut-up,” you spout, your tone somewhere in between short and like you’re begging him to be quiet because it was him speaking that brought you to this state in the first place. 

 A short staring contest ensues.

 “Also– I bet you would’ve been the worst fucking one-night stand,” you add on for good measure. 

 Seo-joon’s ability to keep from laughing is impressive. It’s only for a second that an amused smile overtakes his features– a natural reflex he isn’t able to stop. But it’s barely there at all before he’s schooling his features into something that he hopes looks receptive, like he’s taking in what you’re saying, absorbing it like it’s Gospel. 

 But he’s also a curious motherfucker, and he wants to know why you think that. 

 “That is baseless and an unfounded assumption,” he defends himself, because he may be receptive, but he is also a damn good one-night stand. “With that being said, please tell me why you feel that way.”

 “Because I’m crying! And it’s because of you! You and your making of us bare our fucking souls during pillowtalk! Who does that?!” 

 It’s huffy and snippy and you both know you’re being mean just for the sake of it. 

 With lips pressed into a tight, smile-proof line, Seo-joon nods easily; agreeable and understanding.

 He knows you’re fragile and that you’re tired– so he chooses not to voice how he considers what you talked about very surface level. How he thinks you may be more hurt and affected by whatever took place between you and this guy than you even realize yet. How he feels like you still have so much to work through, so much to learn.

 Seo-joon lets you win and reminds himself that, right now, it’s not his job to help you soothe the things that hurt or fix the things that are broken. Reminds himself that you’re smart enough to figure stuff out on your own.  

 There’s a brief lull in the conversation that’s not as awkward or tense as it probably should be.

 You sniffle. Then you hiccup.

 And Seo-joon laughs, loud and brash and fond as he leans towards you. He gives you what feels like a platonic kiss on your forehead. 

 “Can I get your number?”

 ~~~

 It’s an early Thursday morning in late January and Jeongguk is feeling troubled. Plagued, if you will, as he towels off after his morning shower. Plagued with the ever-growing, ever-evolving urge to check up on you. To see how you’re doing.

 Lurking, as Taehyung calls it, doesn’t happen all that often. Jeongguk makes a point to not let himself do it daily. Or even weekly. It was his New Year’s resolution, in fact. That being said, it’s been exactly 12 days since he’s used his friend’s 8-year-old son’s instagram account to see what you’ve been up to.

 Typically, he can talk himself out of the sudden notion. Put it off until he forgets, or just doesn’t feel he needs to so badly anymore. Currently, however, he’s blaming his inability to nix the restlessness in his fingertips on the fact that he hasn’t had Nari around to keep him busy. It’s been a long week.

 Because Jeonggk’s been doing his best to keep himself from opening your page for what feels like days. Resisting the pesky pull even though he doubts you’ve even posted. Out of the times he’s given in over the last few weeks, he thinks you’ve posted maybe once. And it was just a picture of some clouds at that– vaguely heart-shaped, wispy, white puffs against sky-blue. The caption was just two emojis, the wind-face lady next to the white heart. 

 So frankly, even though he’s not exactly keen on how strong and itchy the urge to check on you is– he’s also not exactly sure why he’s fighting it. Not when merely scratching it isn’t going to change anything. 

 After shrugging on his work blazer, Jeongguk admits defeat– his inner demons having won yet again. He resigns to apathetic, easily accepted complacency as he swipes through the pages on his home screen till he gets to the very last one that houses the small, sunset-colored camera app. He figures he should probably just get it over with.  

 As he touches the application open, Jeongguk reasons that he’s just been putting off the inevitable– that he knows an itch can’t be ignored and that it won’t be quelled until it’s scratched or soothed. Tells himself that a quick peek before heading out for work won’t matter.

 As he clicks on the mini magnifying glass at the bottom of the screen, Jeongguk reminds himself of lurking’s insignificance. Thinks back to all the times he’s done it before and how it never made a difference. 

 As he sorts through the random selection of 8-year-old boy searches till he finds your user in the mix, he reassures himself that checking on you won’t do anything but alleviate the nagging in the back of his head and the tingling in his fingertips. 

 As he taps your profile, he convinces himself that lurking will be relieving and nothing more.

 As Jeongguk sees that you have posted, he realizes that this time, lurking does matter and that he is so very stupid for assuming it would bring him relief.

 The picture is blurry, not unlike a handful of others he’s seen on your feed. 

 But the setting captured is new. The pink-tinted lighting isn’t familiar, and neither is the purple and blue hues. The crowd you captured is much more… abundant than what he’s become accustomed to seeing when he pulls up your page. 

 Jeongguk scans the photo for just a bit longer and then swipes to the next one in the post. This one is the final stupid nail in the coffin of Jeongguk’s stupid demise. The couple shot glasses grouped together in blurry cheers are all the confirmation he needs to know exactly where you were. His eyes flick to your caption, and then his features pull into a pensive frown with furrowed brows.

 BUT FOUR DRINKS IM WASTED !! 

 Jeongguk taps open the comments.

 flickthebinna: you’ve had exactly two (2) shots

ocstagram: i am Wasted !! 🤬

jadedjade: can u let her be wasted and focus on getting our drinks @flickthebinna 🤨

 He can’t help but chuckle at your and your friends’ interactions, but as he closes the app he catches himself doing a certain habit of his. The little tick where he tilts his head and juts his jaw out quickly. His telltale sign of irritation.

 Irritated with himself, of course. Partly because of the obvious. The spying (from a child’s social media account nonetheless), the moping that he’s been doing for months, the procrastinating and avoiding that’s been going on for almost just as long. 

 But also because he feels so embarrassingly immature for allowing what he finds out from the spying to affect him so deeply. It seems so very juvenile to get this worked up over an instagram post. 

 He’s irritated at the emotional rush and the way his hands are shaking. At the way his mind is jumping to conclusions and conjuring up all sorts of sour scenarios. He’s irritated with himself for the way unwarranted jealousy burns in his chest. 

 The irritation stews; sits in the passenger seat as he makes the drive to work– right next to the sudden instinct to act on a restless whim. The irritation festers; accompanies the worsening impulsive urge that makes it hard to think and ultimately pushes him to make a wrong turn. 

 The irritation is only sated when he pulls up to a curb and his car comes to a stop. 

 Jeongguk’s irritated with himself for a lot of things. But mostly because it took him so long to get here.

 ~~~

 He’s not sure why he anticipated you answering the door. Karma wouldn’t be so kind, and he wouldn’t be so lucky. Obviously.

 “And why the fuck are you here?” This is how Binna greets him, after taking him in with a groggy, borderline bored stare. 

 With a wince, Jeongguk tries, “Hi Binna–”

 “Don’t you have a job?” she interrupts, the volume of her tone increasing with every word. “Aren’t you so busy? So busy, in fact, that it’s so hard to find the time for–”

 He opens his mouth to try and get a word in but stops abruptly. So does Binna when she feels a soft hand on her shoulder, and hears a grumpy ‘Why are you being so loud?’.

 Right in front of him, you’re still half-asleep. Drowsily using the sleeve of the oversized sweatshirt you’re wearing to rub over your face tiredly. Seeing as he decided to show up at a little past 8 in the morning.  

 After a few slow, dreamy blinks, you direct your attention to Jeongguk and he feels like he can’t breathe.

 It’s unconscious, how his lips turn up a smidge when he really sees you for the first time in what feels like forever. When he sees the warmth that lives inside of you color your skin with the softest, natural flush. 

 Jeongguk is still so jealous. 

 He watches you and he studies you. Now that he’s not relying on his memories or the pictures in his camera roll or the ones on your socials– he’s trying to pick out what’s the still same; how you’ve changed. Your hair is a bit longer, a shade or two darker as well. Maybe it’s the big hoodie you’ve got on, but you look smaller than he remembers. In his chest, he feels his heart tug but he can’t dwell on it too much as he refocuses on your features beginning to stir. 

 They shift from dazedly blank to shocked, as if your still-sleepy brain has just now registered him being there, and the smallest gasp sounds from your lips. Then an expression that’s a cross between confused and angry takes the place of prior surprise. The doe-ish look becomes sharp and stern; your narrowed eyes are framed above by scrunched brows and below by shadowy circles. Your mouth goes from slack with your plush lips barely parted, to pouty and pursed in a deep frown.

 Jeongguk knows he should say something. 

 Explain. 

 Say sorry. 

 Ask for forgiveness. 

 But he feels mute, like his heart is stuck in his throat. Like he can’t do anything but stand there and hope you show him a little bit of undeserved grace. That you give him a moment, and then another, to get himself together. Even though he’s had too many moments already to do exactly that.

 In the few seconds that go by you shoo your roommate, and after she’s gone, your face changes once again. Softening just enough to not be so harsh. You stand in your doorway as he flounders and you watch with intent, almost curious, anticipation. And Jeongguk doesn’t want to be too optimistic– but he thinks there might be a hint of relief, an inkling of eager, hopeful expectation hiding in the way you’re looking at him. 

 As if you’ve been waiting for him; wanting him– and now he’s finally here; almost yours. 

 He’s so caught up in that –the minute chance of reconciliation that he only thinks he caught a glimpse of– that he doesn’t get out of his head until the movement of your shoulders slumping, and your chest deflating rips him out of it. 

 Jeongguk would prefer the air your demeanor carried just moments ago. The quiet, masked hopefulness you gave off before you made yourself smaller and breathed that tiny, dejected sigh. God, he would even take the calloused, puzzled hostility you had when you first realized it was him in standing in your doorway. Anything over how you look currently.

 Definitely disappointed, maybe a little bit embarrassed, and just so sad. 

 It’s what he expected, at least to some extent. He’s foolish, but he can only fool himself so much. There’s a limit on how many fantasies of effortless forgiveness he can have before he has to face reality. 

 Jeongguk knew you would be sad, and he knew you would be disappointed. He was ready to take responsibility for the role he played because he was so sure that it would be his fault.

 But what makes how you’re looking at him right now so awful, so unbearable– is that you’re looking at him like it has nothing to do with him. 

 You don’t look disappointed in him. You don’t look sad because of him. 

 It looks internal, so personal. 

 Like you’re sad because you naively allowed yourself to hope– let it glimmer, shining so obvious in your eyes. Only for the brightness to dim, snuffed out by the foolishness that so often goes hand in hand with naivety. 

 Like you’re sad because as soon as you saw him, you had expectations– preconceived notions about how it would go when he came back, how he would act. Only to learn that with enough preconceived notions, you can turn expectations into daydreams.

 Maybe that’s why you look a little embarrassed, too. Because you so quickly let yourself hope, like a child who hasn’t learned from their mistakes. Because you immediately conjured up expectation-disguised daydreams of Jeongguk. Still, after all this time. After everything he’s done, you still expected good from him. 

 You look like you’re disappointed in yourself, not him, because you should have known better.

 He doesn’t find his voice until you’re shaking your head like he’s let you down. Until you’re turning away from him and edging the door closed.

 “I’m sorry!”

 Jeongguk blurts the words out, and he didn’t say much but his chest is heaving and he’s got this frantic way about him and a panicky feeling flooding his veins. When you look up, surprise flashes across your face, but it’s gone in an instant and is replaced by incredulous anger. Like you can’t believe him. 

 Despite your trying to stand your ground and hold his gaze, a gleam still shines in your eyes.

 “I am,” he assures breathlessly, his eyes darting across your face, “I’m so sorry, ___. And–”

 When Jeongguk tells you he misses you, he notices how you almost flinch. How your eyes snap shut tightly –like you can feel his words, but still aren’t sure if they’re real or if they’re true; like you’re scared of finding out– and the heavy tears pooling on your lashline finally spill over. 

 As the salty droplets drip down the apples of your cheeks, Jeongguk feels an ache that hurts so badly that it’s visceral. Like if he could crack open his chest, he could get a hand on the it and just rip the pain out and make it go away. If only that was the case. 

 “I–” you start, but your voice gives out. You clear your throat with a small cough, and talk to the ground because it’s easier to talk to than him. “Maybe we’re better like this, Gguk.”

 Jeongguk’s heart drops, and it’s a struggle to get out even just a whispered a plea of your name.

 When you speak up this time, you force your eyes to meet his. Your brows are upturned and your bottom lip quivers for just a second before you take a deep, self-soothing, breath and school your features into a facade of indifference and resolve. 

 “I hope Nari’s been okay. And you. I hope you’ve been okay, too.”

 Jeongguk’s brows furrow. He’s confused but gives you an unsteady nod. “She– she’s good, yeah.”

 You scan his face, trying to keep your own expression neutral. But how he only mentions Nari and not himself doesn’t evade you. A faint heartache murmurs in your chest, but you mimic his nod. “That’s good. I’m glad–”

 “What about you? Have you been okay?”

 Jeongguk’s words come out overhasty and too eager. But after such a long time of replaying old dialogues in his head– talking to you just feels so nice. He doesn’t want to stop, even if the conversation feels stilted and trivial. He’s still going to hang on to every little marginal thing you say, and he’s still going to do his best to keep the empty words flowing between you.

 He doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath while he awaits your answer. Not until he hears you say, “Yeah, I’m happy, I think” and the air inside his lungs vacates. Making room for a thick cloud of melancholy that isn’t surprising, but still makes it hard to breathe all the same. 

 Guilt mingles with the suffocating hurt because you being happy shouldn’t make him sad.  

 But then you smile and Jeongguk responds with a frown and a skeptical shake of his head. 

 Because the smile– it’s so fake, so unconvincingly artificial and staged that when it turns your eyes to half moons and causes their corners to crinkle– it also forces a fresh wave of tears to tumble down your cry-flushed cheeks. 

 He doesn’t believe you, but that’s no surprise. You’ve never been a good liar.

 A dim, defeated laugh putters from your lips. Trying to portray nonchalance, you give him a weak, half-hearted shrug, like you know you’ve been caught but it can’t be helped.

 He knows it hurts you to dismiss him. He can hear it in your shaky, wispy tone when you say, “Take care, Gguk.”

 Take care Gguk.

 Jeongguk knows it’s a ‘goodbye’. A goodbye that he’s having trouble processing. 

  It feels like a lifetime, but really it’s only a few seconds that Jeongguk stands there trying to make sense of your words. It’s only a few more before the door closes on him. 

 Jeongguk couldn’t process the goodbye, but the telltale click of the door locking somehow makes perfect sense.

 ~~~

 Like you are the starlet of your very own coming of age, lifetime, hallmark romance drama– you don’t let yourself cry until your back is pressed against the closed door. Then you cover your mouth to keep quiet as you slide down the wood.

 The moment is short-lived. 

 “Where’s Jeongguk?”

 The voice seemingly comes from nowhere, and you jump slightly before swearing and directing your puffy, bloodshot eyes at your roommates. They both have their head peeking out from behind the kitchen wall. Nosy.

 “What do you mean ‘where’s Jeongguk?’” you groan, knocking your head back against the wood.

 Binna and Jade exchange a look. 

 “Are you guys like… not gonna… talk?”

 You slow blink at them a single time.

 An awkward quiet permeates the pumpkin-spice-scented air of your shared home. It’s not even Fall anymore. 

 “Well,” Binna starts, and then cuts herself off like she spoke before she knew what she wanted to say. She elbows your other housemate. “Jade?”

 Jade gives you an instinctive, reactionary smile that’s far too big. “I mean… communication is key… right? And that’s mainly what was lacking before? Talking now could give you the oppurtunity to say all the things you’ve been wanting to. And maybe he can explain his side–”

 Binna raises a hand to cut her off, “Too much credit, he is still a man.”

 “Fair but–”

 The two bicker for a bit before looking at you again.

 “Wait, did you not want to work things out?” 

 You roll your eyes. “Of course I wanted to.”

 “Of course you did,” Jade agrees easily. 

 “Of course you did,” Binna mimics before groaning and asking, “So why the hell is he not here, and why the hell are you not talking and ‘working things out’?” 

 Crossing your arms, your posture becomes defensive. “Wouldn’t that be too easy? Like he shows up at my door after all these months of virtual silence and I just let him in? Aren’t I supposed to make him grovel and cry and beg?” 

 “You have to let the man speak for him to be able to grovel and cry and beg, I’m afraid…” Binna informs.

 The narrowing of your eyes is the simple response she gets. Only because Jade speaks up before you can.

 “You know…” Jades starts, then ponders momentarily. “If it was you that showed up at his house out of the blue at 8 in the morning on a weekday? Then yeah,” she nods to herself, “I would say that it was too easy for him. But he came back to you. And just talking to him?” she shakes her head, “That’s not forgiving him. He still has a lot of work to do– and you should make him prove himself. Prove that he’s grown and changed,” Jade says before she gives you a gentle smile. “But him knocking on the door was also him taking the first step.”

 He came back to you.

 It’s what you wanted. But now that it’s happening, you have no clue what to do next. 

 You don’t know what to say. Are you supposed to lie and tell him you’re thankful that he pushed you away; that it helped you realize that he was right? That you are too young? That you’re happier without him, better off being free like he wanted you to be? 

 Or do you tell him the truth? Do you tell him about how hard it was without him? About how painful it was to go from having so much of him, all of the time– to not having none of him at all, ever? Do you come clean about how hollow and lost being alone made you feel? Do you tell him about how much it hurt every time you thought about how all it took was a few words from his ex– and you were gone; cut out so easily and carelessly? Do you admit that it still hurts to remember?

 You don’t know what to do. Do you resist the fight you’re expected to make him put up? Or do you not fight it much at all and welcome him with a second chance and a fresh start? Do you pretend like you didn’t miss him? Like you didn’t fantasize about him coming back? That you didn’t look for pieces of him everywhere you went; in everybody you met? 

 You don’t know how to feel. Happy because he came to you? Sad that it took so long? Scared because him coming back is just another chance for him to leave again?

 You were already crying, but the trickle of tears grows steadier. The sleeve of your sweatshirt is swiped angrily at your eyes, the light grey material dampened a few shades darker. 

 “Bro,” you cry, “I can’t even look at him without crying, I’m not gonna be able to talk to him. It hurts too bad.”

 Jade looks down at you, gives you a pity pout. “If it’s any consolation, I think he will cry too.”

 Binna agrees with a sympathetic nod of her head. “He’s probably hurting just like you, but it’s what he deserves.

 “___,” Jades speaks up again, “It doesn’t have to be so– painstaking. Like you don’t have to drive yourself mad thinking about what you should do. Just do what you want to do. If you want to talk to him, then talk to him.” She shrugs like it’s really that simple.

 And maybe it is. 

 ~~~

 It definitely isn’t.

 Because if it was, you would not have opened with, quote, ‘I let you put your finger in my ass’, unquote. 

 And Jeongguk wouldn’t have replied with a slow, painfully dumb sounding: ‘I– yes… I remember…?’

 You don’t even really know how it happened. 

 One second you’re hit with a burst of inspired adrenaline and then the next you’re knocking the wind out of both you and Jeongguk by barreling into his chest. The collision must have knocked the sense out of you, too. It’s the only explanation for your behavior. 

 All the same, the blame can’t be entirely yours– Jeongguk has to take some of it. He was standing directly outside of your door, after all. He claims he was working up the courage to knock again but that’s beside the point.

 You keep your thoughts to yourself, as you pretend not to catch the way that he rolls his lips between his teeth to keep a smile off his face when you lead him into your room and slyly try to kick a few things under your bed. A stuffed animal, a bra. A few too many socks.

 It’s a stupid attempt to make your space look a little more tidy and less like you’ve been rotting in it for the last few months. The room’s not too messy by any means; definitely not unkempt enough for you to feel embarrassed or like you need to straighten it up to impress him. But you hope he chalks it up to your nerves getting the best of you.

 He’s nervous, too. If how awkward he’s being is anything to go by. 

 Just standing at the foot of your bed with his hands in his pockets while you situate yourself in front of your headboard. He doesn’t take a seat until you pat the mattress a little, letting him know it’s okay and that you want him to. 

 There’s a quiet hush that fills the space. It’s slightly tense, but it’s not entirely uncomfortable; stilted but somehow familiar. 

 You’re sitting with one leg dangling and a pillow in your lap. It’s hugged to your chest. Perhaps a make-shift shield to put something between you and Jeongguk. Fiddling with a loose pillowcase string helps you avoid eye contact by making you look occupied.

 Jeongguk’s sat before you, stiff and looking down at the floor between his feet. Similarly evading your gaze just like you’re doing with his. He’s clenching and unclenching his hands, rubbing his palms restlessly over the material of his slacks. 

 Thinking back, Jeongguk feels like he did so much of the talking that night in his living room. Probably too much, if he’s being honest. He feels he never really gave you the time to say your side or a proper chance to explain yourself. 

 So this time, he wants to let you do most of the talking. Let you be the one to initiate, at the very least. He wants to give you all the time you need to start the discussion how and when you want, with what you want and feel has precedence.

 Jeongguk stays patient right up until you say in a huff, “Well say something, I’m obviously not good at this.”

 His lips twitch at your stubborn, slightly irritated tone. 

 “You’re the one that showed up at my house when I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to be at work, so,” you wave your hand at him, indicating you want him to get on with it. “Must have something important to say.”  

 The small laugh he allows himself is barely a chuckle, but it tumbles from his lips before he can stop it. Blames it on instinct and the simple fact that he just misses you. 

 “It is important,” he confirms, giving into your bait and starting the conversation for you. He considers staying quiet, getting another little reaction out of you, but he reminds himself that this isn’t the time for that. If he plays his cards right, maybe then he’ll be able to joke with you. But as of now, that’s not his place anymore.

 Shifting to face you a little more, so that when he says, “I wanted to apologize to you, ___,” you have his full attention.

 When he speaks, you don’t look at him. Instead, you only give him the faintest nod with your eyes cast down. Still fixed on the pillow in your lap. But Jeongguk notices how your lashes flutter quickly before you press your eyelids together tightly; just like you did earlier when he said that he missed you. 

 Your shoulders lift when you take a deep inhale, and your face is more or less neutral when your eyes meet his. 

 “It’s been months,” you tell him. 

 As if he doesn’t know. As if he hasn’t been driving himself mad day in and day out trying to muster up the courage to do precisely this; as if time doing what time does hasn’t been the bane of his existence. Because with each passing day, he knew he was that much closer to going from ‘it’s been so long’ to ‘it’s been too long’. He’s all too aware of just how long it’s been. 

 Regardless, he doesn’t want to give you excuses; choosing to be easily agreeable. He offers a small tilt of his head as acknowledgment. 

 “Why now?” you question him.

 Jeongguk tries to keep the sadness off of his face when he hears how you sound. 

 The tone of your voice is unsure; hurt. But the pain is elusive. Only heard when your subtle heartache peeks through the veil of composure you’re trying to hide behind.

 While he racks his mind for a worthy explanation, his eyes scan yours. Overflowing with so many different emotions and so expressive just like he remembers. 

 “I wish–” he begins, “I wish that I could tell you that I’ve been working toward this for ages and that I thought through all the steps and knew exactly what I wanted to say to you…” He gives a small self-deprecating chuckle, “But I can’t tell you that. After earlier, it’s clear that I didn’t have any idea or plan,” he offers you his bared palms. “I wish I had a good reason for ‘why now’, but I don’t.”

 Your brows furrow with affronted confusion. Jeongguk speaks up before you can.

 “That’s not to say that I haven’t been thinking about this since you left–”

 “I didn’t leave, you got rid of me–”

 The correction is hissed before you snap your mouth shut like you didn’t mean to say it. But you don’t take the words back and Jeongguk can’t control his expression this time. His face falls and he sighs as he looks down at the pattern on his pants. 

 “I’ve been thinking about this since I told you to leave,” he tries again, slowly. When you don’t comment again after a small pause, he continues, “but I wasn’t actively figuring out how to do it. I’ve come to learn that plans are essentially useless, so planning out what to say to you seemed pointless. In hindsight, it just made me look stupid,” he muses.

 “Honestly, having you on a constant loop in my mind wasn’t intentional; I didn’t want that,” Jeongguk admits. But he doesn’t even chance a glance, not keen to see your worsening scowl. “Remembering you just made me so miserable? Like, thinking about you all the time made me miss you all the time. And missing you made me so fucking sad– like the kind of sad you can feel? Like it hurt to think about you. But you never left my head, so the hurt never went away…”

 Jeongguk’s words slowly come to halt, his cheeks reddening to a bright cherry when he realizes that he’s rambling. As he’s mentally trying to dull his blush to something more faint and less conspicuous, he notes that your expression changed. You still look a bit angry, but now, there’s a pastel hue. A soft, muted sadness toning down the harshness. 

 He stumbles a little when he says, “I– Truthfully– I guess the–” Then he takes a quick, staccato breath mid-sentence to get himself together. “I guess the most truthful explanation for why I took so long is… avoidance? And guilt? Fear?” 

 When he frustratedly combs a hand through his hair, he pretends not to notice how it’s shaking. And he’s grateful that you don’t mention it when you track his movement. 

 The conversation gets stuck in a momentary limbo while Jeongguk thinks about what he said. It’s the truth. He was scared before– it’s what got him in this mess and it’s what kept him away for weeks too long. But he’s still scared. Despite getting the most intimidating part over with –actually coming to you after finally working up the nerve to– the fear of fucking up still hasn’t waned. 

 He’s still just as scared as he was. 

 Scared of saying the wrong thing. Of not being able to put what he feels into the right words. Of not being able to convey how truly fucking sorry he is for hurting you, how much he regrets it. He’s scared of hurting you again. Scared of you not forgiving him for the first time he did. 

 He is still just as scared of lying in the bed that he made.

 Jeongguk digs his fingertips into his thighs and his nails are dull, but he does it hard enough for a minute pang of discomfort to still be felt. He makes himself puff out a lame chuckle. It sounds strained and resembles a scoff more than anything, but he’s trying to lighten the mood; make the air in the room lighter and easier to breathe. 

 “I’m sorry,” he says on the tail end of the scoffing chuckle, shaking his head lightly. His voice has a light waver, shaky due to his nerves. “I– I’m just–”

 When he feels your small hand settle over the one he has working into his leg, his head whips up quickly and a reactive reflex almost has him pulling his hand away.

 But he stops himself before, and he’s so happy he does. Because when the initial shock wears off, your touch feels good. Familiar and comforting. He’s happy he catches himself because your touch feels nice and when he looks up from it, he gets to see you. 

 It’s like you stopped hiding and came out from behind that veil. Or maybe it’s an accident and you just forgot to keep it up. Either way, it doesn’t matter because he gets to see you watching him so artlessly, so openly honest. With a look that feels like a reminder. 

 A reminder that your heart has always been so soft, so sweet– that it still is. Softer than the hand you have settled gently over his and sweeter than its touch when you coax his own into being gentle, too, but with himself. A reminder that you’ve always been soft, sweet– that you still are. You look at him –softly; sweetly– like you’re reminding him that you’re still you. 

 It makes his eyes water and he has to look away. The thin, pinstripes on his slacks blur together, blending into thick lines as unshed tears muddle his vision.

 “It’s okay, you can–” he hears you tell him, starting hushedly. You sound hesitant, like you’re not sure if you want to finish. “I… want to know what you’re trying to say. So– you can take your time... I’ll wait for you.” 

 And if someone asked Jeongguk to describe the ache that fills his chest at your words– he would tell them that it hurts like he imagines the kindest, most tender, undeserved compassion would.

 “It took me so long because I was a coward, ___,” he says quietly. But the word is spat from his mouth like something foul. “I was so scared of feeling the hurt and facing the guilt that came when I thought about you; what I did to you–” Shame runs through his veins and he shakes his head at how spineless he was– unable to face the consequences of his own actions. It’s humiliating to remember. 

 He’s still talking down to his lap when he admits, “I– just avoided it altogether. I was so busy trying to keep it away that I didn’t give much thought to owning up to everything. I didn’t even know where to begin or how to go about fixing things with you.” 

 Jeongguk’s not crying yet. With that being said, his vision is still bleary and his eyes are red-rimmed from fighting the stubborn tears. He turns the hand he still has underneath yours palm-up. Covers yours with his other on top. Your tiny hand sandwiched between his big ones. He tilts his head back, blinks the wet in his eyes away.

 “I wanted to so badly, though,” he tells you, bringing himself to look at you, “To fix things with you. To just try with you. It took me way too long to understand something that should have been common sense: That things don’t always happen the way you plan for them to; That pieces don’t just fall into place just because you want them to. If I want something… It takes effort to make it happen. I have to work for it and try my best to put the pieces where they belong.”

 Jeongguk gives you a small smile and your hand a little squeeze. “I needed someone’s help to figure some things out,” he rolls his eyes playfully, almost fondly exasperated by the memory. “Like how to start altering the way I think and how to stop with all the wallowing and self-commiseration. How to stomach self-reflection. But when it finally clicked and I really got it? Fixing things with you was the only thing I wanted to do.” 

 There’s a tiny flicker of something coming back. A sanguine glimmer replaces the chagrin in Jeongguk’s eyes and you try to mirror it, reflect it back to him. Because the things he’s saying all sound so good. Perfect and promising and like everything you could have hoped for. 

 But when he says the thing about needing someone’s help? Anything he said before gets repressed. Unclear and hard to recall, as if his words are stuck inside a wayward memory. Anything he says after is indistinct. Muffled and hard to hear, as if there’s water stuck inside your ears. Similar to the rot that’s stuck inside your heart; ugly and hard to get rid of. 

 Such a gross, sickly feeling suddenly comes over you. 

 It takes so much effort to swallow it down. The green-washed insecurity that’s wanting to crawl up your throat and out your mouth. Masquerading as untrusting accusations that will make you seem paranoid. Heartsick questions that will leave you too vulnerable. 

 Who was it? Was it her? Was Dasom the one who helped you?

 Of course, she’s going to be a sore spot and you know that. But the thoughts fluster you and catch you a little off guard because it’s not like you to think like that. 

 It’s never been like you to be paranoid. To feel so self-conscious and easily threatened. You’ve never been the type to chastise. To interrogate, or pry. To accuse, or assume. 

 The doubt came from out of nowhere– crept its way into your head during a brief lapse of emotional awareness and into your heart when it erringly opened and was left unguarded. At first, quieting the intrusive thoughts and dispelling the negative feelings was a challenge. But in the end, you managed and it was fleeting and passed quickly.  

 Shaking the residual embarrassment that follows the bad thoughts and emotions, is much more difficult. 

 Unlike the momentary doubt, the sudden flash of insecurity that it comes with is so intense that it lingers, so strong that it fogs your head. It distractingly hangs out in the back of your mind making it hard to focus.

 It takes a few moments longer before you’re able to suppress it and push it down, down, down. Down far enough that you’ll be able to forget about it. At least for a short while, you’ll be able to convince yourself that the feelings won’t come back because it’s just not like you. 

 Wanting to omit it altogether, you gather your composure and fully give Jeongguk your attention again. You give him a small but genuine smile and wiggle your fingers that are still between his hands. 

 He smiles back softly, while you sit quietly. You’re working to piece together the things he said while you were lost in your head, trying to come up with a decent response. 

 “I was scared too,” you reveal quietly, “The whole time I was scared.” 

 “Will you tell me what you were scared of?”

 “There were so many things, Gguk.” You don’t tell him that there still are. Jeongguk nods attentively. You gingerly untangle your hand from his, catching his eyes before looking around your room. 

 “The finger thing was a really bad example,” you begin trying to explain. You shake your head with a sheepish smile, embarrassed and horrified at your past self. “and it wasn’t the actual act. It was more of what it meant that was scary for me? Like the fact that I let you do something that I always swore I would never let anyone do? Ever.”

 Laughing lightly, you think back on all of the times that your friends would make jokes. How they always told you that there would be a time that you would be horny enough to let it happen. The times when they had more class and said it was fine if you never wanted to and never did, but that they still thought you would end up giving in one day. For the right person, you would. 

 But you always remained adamant– so sure that nobody would ever make the act appealing enough, that nobody would ever make you feel comfortable enough with them for you to allow them to touch you like that or see you like that. 

 “But then I met you.”

 Jeongguk’s brows furrow slightly, like he doesn’t quite understand. But he just stays quiet and nods again, waiting for you to continue. And honestly, you can’t blame him. Anal should never be such a serious topic or something that feels like such a pivotal point in a relationship. You certainly wish that it wasn’t. 

 But alas.

 “All it took was a couple of months… Just a few soft touches and some dreamy words and I was putty in your hands.” Your hands that are folded lightly in your lap open up to show your palms before they squeeze shut into tight fists. “I feel like I would’ve done anything for you; anything you asked me to.”

 His features fall, and the expression he wears is laced with so much guilt. “Wait– Did I… make you feel like you had to do certain things?”

 You can’t help but smile at his concern as you shake your head sadly. “No, no… nothing like that– I always wanted to.”

 Jeongguk frowns, not certain of how truthful you’re being.

 Promising him that you’re not lying, you elaborate. “That’s part of why it was scary for me, I think. There was just something about you that made me so…I don’t know, willing? So yours?”

 The admission makes pesky pinpricks of tears sting the backs of your eyes. “And I was. I was so yours the whole time even though you weren’t mine–”

 “I was–” Jeongguk chimes softly. Interrupting, if only for the sake of trying to convince you.

 “Not really,” you argue. The tone you use comes across as somewhat detached. Like you’re just stating a fact. 

 Using the silence that nestles between you as an opportunity to think, you consider what you’re wanting to tell him. How vulnerable you’re willing to get. Your mouth opens before you feel like you’ve even made your decision.

 “I knew you liked me,” you acknowledge because you don’t want to be unfair, “but part of me always wondered: ‘how much does he?’ and ‘for how long will he?’. I was already scared that I was just a phase for you. Before Dasom ever said it.”

 Jeongguk tenses just a touch at the mention of his ex and you pretend not to notice, continuing with, “So when she said that I was just something you needed to get out of your system and you didn’t defend me? God, Jeongguk,” you get out, eyes squeezing shut. Wincing at the ghost of pain the memory brings back. “That hurt so much.”

 Despite your wanting to look him in the eye and come off strong while you relay how his actions made you feel; it’s impossible. Despite wanting to seem as though you’ve healed and grown and matured and like it just doesn’t hurt so bad anymore; you can’t face him.

 “And then everything happened so quickly?” you continue before he can get a word in, your words coming out rushed and frantic, “It felt like you didn’t even think about it, and like it was just so easy for you to let me go? Like I really was nothing just like she said–”

 He can’t stop himself from reaching out and quieting you when he hears the way your voice breaks. Jeongguk doesn’t want you to cry, not sure he could handle it if you did. Your hands are in your lap still, clenched together, so he rests a palm on your knee. 

 “___,” he says gently, “I need you to believe me when I tell you that none of that is true.”

 You keep talking like you don’t hear him.

 “It almost seemed like you were already over it, bored of me. And her saying those things was a convenient way to– ” you shake your head before sighing. “I was always scared that you’d end up getting tired of me, that you would stop wanting me and just get rid of me. And after what she said, it felt like you finally did. Like you used her words as an excuse so you could finally leave me.”

 “That’s not true, baby,” he reiterates, tongue slipping as he tries to console you again

 At the pet name you look up. Your red-rimmed eyes locking with his. 

 He stutters a bit as he backtracks, barely able to get out a stiff apology. 

 And your lips pull down in a deep frown, and your brows turn up confusedly. “You said you wanted to… fix things with me?”

 Jeongguk’s lips part, dim surprise taking over his face before he breathes a small yes.

 “I want that too,” you breathe back, “but I’m still so afraid Jeongguk.”

 “I know, I know you are– I am too–”

 “Not like me,” you counter, “You may be scared, but you’re not scared like me. You can’t be scared like me.” 

 Your words come out sharper than intended, too emotional for the facade you’re trying to portray. But you don’t dwell on the tone of your voice. Nor do you dwell on the brief ire that flickers in Jeongguk’s eyes. 

 “I’m scared that I’ll never catch up to you. You won’t ever know what that feels like because you’ll never be the one that’s worried about falling behind– you’re the one that’s ahead of the curve. I’m scared that I’m not good enough for you and Nari– that I can’t be. You have no reason to be scared of that.” 

 The fight to keep your voice level and in control dwindles. Every ounce of your pain can be heard as you let out the burdensome ache in your heart, little by little. 

 Each word is heavier than the last when you ask Jeongguk, “Why would you be afraid of not being good enough for someone who never made you question it?” 

 Jeongguk flinches. Visibly recoils as if your words are abrasive enough to hurt. 

 Which is what you wanted. You wanted to hurt him, but it doesn’t make you feel better like you anticipated. If anything his reaction makes your pain ricochet right back at you. Hurting him, hurting you.

 And then you consider that perhaps, you didn’t truly want him to hurt– that you might have just wanted him to be aware. To know what you’re scared of; how it hurts to be scared.  

 “Maybe you are scared, too,” you amend, “Maybe there are even a few things that we’re both afraid of… but being scared isn’t something we have in common.”

 The hurt from before is replaced by barely-hidden defensiveness. Jeongguk does try to hide it as he listens to you, though. You give him credit for that.

 “Being scared that you’ll realize that I actually am just some stupid kid that doesn’t know what she wants, exactly like you thought, is a very specific fear,” you try to explain. “I’m scared that one day you’ll look at me but you won’t see me anymore– you’ll see a mistake that could have been avoided if you never came back. That I’ll cross your mind. But instead of thinking fondly… you’ll end up thinking about how you wish you had just stuck by your decision when you said you wouldn’t let me stay.”

 A defensive urge to argue the validity of his feelings comes naturally– he’s only human. His emotional side finds it unfair of you to determine, decide, and define his fears but the irony of the situation dawns on his logical side just as quickly. 

 The fact that you’re speaking to him in a manner that mirrors how he spoke to you all those months ago, doesn’t escape him. Instead, the similarities make him stop and think. Something he regrets not doing that night in his living room. 

 He concludes that arguing with you would be pointless. He knows you’re right and it doesn’t take him long to realize. 

 Yeah, Jeongguk’s scared. But just like you said– he’s not scared like you. Not scared of what you’re scared of. Jeongguk’s fears are more or less internal and he’s had a few of them for most of his adult life, since he became a father. Some of the fears may concern you in some way or another, but none of them manifested because of you or something you did or things you said. 

 He’s scared, but he’ll never be scared like you. Not when the things you’re afraid of only exist because of him. 

 The thought of it never going away, of you never being the same or free of the ache he caused, even after the insecurities and fears are dug up by the root– it makes Jeongguk feel like he’s going to be sick. 

 “I know you didn’t mean to hurt me,” you end up saying after a few moments of watching Jeongguk struggle to get words out. “And I know you regret it. You showing up here proves that.”

 The small, sad smile you give him is too kind for what he did.

 “I thought I was doing the right thing,” Jeongguk says, “For you, for Nari. I never thought– I’m so sorry, ___.”

 “I know,” you reassure, gently. 

 And you truly do know how sorry Jeongguk is. He obviously doesn’t have the words to express his remorse, but sincerity is written all over his face. His big doe-eyes dark and glassy and so genuine. Full of regret; the longing to go back and undo what can’t be undone. Somehow so full of warmth, just like you remember. 

 “I don’t want to fight anymore,” you say. 

 It doesn’t sound like you’re at your wit’s end or like you feel as if the conversation has reached it’s breaking point. Just sounds like what it means. Like you don’t want to fight. Not with him. Not with yourself. Not with what you’ve been wishing for since you lost it. 

 Jeongguk agrees, nodding. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make it a fight. I want you to be able to talk to me about–” He’s flighty, moving his hands all about, like he’s nervous and has too many things he wants to say. “about everything, really. So, I promise, I’ll just listen–”

 You watch him for a few more seconds, letting the corners of your lips turn up just so. Then you reach for his hands, ceasing their movement with your own. 

 “Shush,” you laugh faintly, “There’s still a lot we have to talk about. So much– we can’t get through it all with one conversation. It’s gonna take a lot of them and a long time, probably. But I think we’ve covered the most important stuff, right?”

 You’re aware it’s going to take time to get through the maze of problems you and Jeongguk have created between each other.

 But you can’t help but think about all time that you wasted while making them. 

 And you don’t want to waste even more time by waiting till everything is figured out before you start letting yourself get past it. You don’t want to hinder the process of moving forward by getting lost trying to navigate the maze. Not when you’ve finally made your way back to each other. 

 So while the labyrinth hasn’t been solved, and all your issues haven’t been fixed, at least now, you don’t have to do it alone. You can resolve everything and find a way out together. 

 It’s possible that you’re too willing to push things aside, that you’re too keen to move past it all. That you’re not standing your ground, being too easy and too soft, too quick. That you’re not giving yourself enough time to consider what you haven’t touched on yet. To process what you have. 

 But as you told Jeongguk, you feel like what needed to be addressed has been. With time, everything else will be talked about. Which is enough for you and your eager heart. You don’t want to wait anymore, not when you’ve been waiting so long already.

 Jeongguk’s wearing a flush when you grin at him and he looks down at the pair of your hands, still slightly entangled on your duvet. His thumb rubs softly over your knuckles while he says, “If you’re sure?”

 Vaguely aware of Jeongguk absently toying with your fingers while he awaits your reply, you think it over just for the sake of it and end up remembering something.

 You hum musingly, making sure he can hear the smile you decorate it with. An attempt to diffuse the heavy air in your room till it’s something more buoyant; lighthearted and easier to breathe. You curl your manicured finger around one of his, trapping it briefly before untangling both your hands.

 “Actually,” you start. 

 So very attentive, Jeongguk whips his head up. 

 “Now that I think about it, you told me why it took you so long,” you reflect, “But you didn’t tell me why now.”

 Jeongguk opens his mouth to reply before he’s furrowing his brows, puzzled, pursing his lips into a line. It’s quiet while he thinks.

 A weak, hopeless simper sounds, and he shakes his head while running a hand through his hair. “Again, I wish I had a better answer for you.”

 You roll your eyes and change positions, now sitting criss-cross in front of him. “Okay, well, you didn’t just randomly show up! There had to have been something that made you come now; today.”

 Light, but genuine laughter rings in your room– it starts off sounding like it’s accidental, cut-off chuckles only heard because the person laughing can’t hold it in, and it ends as cute giggles that lilt throughout the space softly. 

 And it’s all Jeongguk’s fault. 

 “No,” he says, around a breathy giggle, “I really did. I probably shouldn’t admit that, but I couldn’t stop thinking about you, and I ended up caving and looking at your–” 

 It’s now your fault that sounds of amusement continue to filter in the air– Jeongguk’s eyes getting wide and his face turning pink is too funny and you can’t not laugh at him.

 He stutters when he tries to backtrack, “Y… Your– pictures? On my phone? In my camera roll?” 

 You narrow your eyes suspiciously, impishly. “Which of my pictures, hmm?”

 The flush coloring his cheeks runs down to his chest, the silver LV pendant of his necklace would probably be warm if you reached out and touched it. He would probably be warm too if you reached out and touched him.

 “No! Oh my god, not those! I did not look at those, okay? Anyway,” he rushes out, “I really was on my way to work! But add a couple of turns and a few steps–” he shrugs, “I guess now because I physically couldn’t keep myself from you any longer? Because then I was at your door and now I’m here. With you.”

 The giggles have finally ceased, and now it’s just your paired breathing that acts as low background noise while you both take the other in.

 “Now you’re here with me,” you repeat softly, with an even softer smile.

 Jeongguk’s eyes drop to your lips for the briefest of moments. He darts his tongue out to wet his own.

 “___. You were right,” he tells you, “It didn’t have to be all or nothing like I thought it did.”

 You nod once.

 “I’m sorry for not listening to you. For deciding for you and not letting you make your own choices. And for not even letting you explain your side that night. For how bad I hurt you and for all the things the hurt caused.”

 “Okay,” you breathe.

 “I should have listened to you.”

 Again, you nod.

 “I should have chosen you.”

 It’s almost instantaneous when tears well in your eyes.

 “But I was so scared of the way I wanted you and how badly I wanted it,” Jeongguk confesses, “I’ve never felt the way I feel about you before. For anybody.”

 Mild confusion makes a home in your eyes.

 He expects it before he sees it stir your features, so he’s not surprised when it appears. He finds himself smiling. Maybe because he’s wanted to tell you that since he realized it. Or maybe he wants to finally do what he should have done the night of the fight, and even before then. 

 Jeongguk smiles at your uncertainty because this time, he gets to make it go away. He gets to reassure you of your place in his life, of how important you are to him. Of how you’re worth trying for. He’s quick to shush you when your lips part to speak. 

 “No one,” he insists, “You’re so different, ___. And I feel so differently for you. I feel different when I’m with you. That’s part of why I was afraid. I was scared to want you because I didn’t know how to have you.”

 Tears are making his eyes gleam, glassy in the morning light that streams through your blinds. Yours are a mirror and you don’t know how you’ve kept the drops from spilling over.

 “I’m still fucking scared,” he admits, “Like you said, we’re both still scared. Because we have no god damn clue how this will turn out. If we’ll even be able to fix it and get back to the way we were. Who might be collateral damage if we can’t. If one of us will end up changing our mind. Or if we’ll end up even better; if we –me and you, together– will be the only thing that we’re sure about.”

 The urge to tell him that you’ve been sure ever since you found his round little bug of a baby in your grocery store is so strong– you think you may burst because of it. Maybe the lovestruck feeling in your chest has gone supernova. 

 “I have no clue about anything other than the fact that I want to be with you, ___.”  

 Let the record show that between you and him, Jeongguk is the one to let the first tear fall during this conversation.

 “I want to try.” 

 “Yeah–”

 “If you’ll let me, I want to try for you. And if you’ll have me, I want to try with you. Because if we don’t at least try– I think I’ll wish that we did forever.”

 When you beam at him and exhale a simple, ‘Okay’ and Jeongguk echoes it, he thinks this is all too easy.

 But then he remembers how everything with you has always been that way. Maybe not too easy, but just right. Concerning you, the hardest thing he’s had to do is be without. 

 He brings your hand to his lips, brushing your knuckles with a sweet, kiss. “I want to be with you,” he tells you again.

 You bite your lip to suppress your smile. “Then be with me.”

 This time he’s the one saying ‘Okay’ and you’re the one echoing.

 Until backtrack with a pout. “What… what am I? Like– to you.”

 “What do you want to be?”

 “Yours.” 

 Your answer is breathed so quickly, like you didn’t even have to think about it to know that’s what you wanted. Like that’s the only thing you’ve ever wanted. How fast you reply gives Jeongguk butterflies. Makes him giddy while he tries to calm himself as he confirms, “Mine,” before he adds quietly, a little shy, “I’ll introduce you as… my girlfriend?”

 Jeongguk is so endeared when you close your eyes, wistful when you ask him to say it again in an airy voice. 

 “My girlfriend,” he whispers, squeezing your hand in his.

 When you open your eyes to look at him and he sees unshed tears heavy on your lashline, his heart pulls in his chest and it breaks a little when you murmur, “I didn’t know if I would ever hear you say that.” 

 “I’m sorry it took me so long.”

 A teardrop escapes the corner of your eye when you shake your head, smiling so sweetly, so happily. Jeongguk’s distracted, just taking it in and getting lost in everything that is you. So much so, that he doesn’t see it coming. Not until your arms are wrapped around his neck, his reflexively coming up to wrap around your waist like muscle memory. 

 Jeongguk takes a deep breath when he has you in his arms, nuzzles his nose into your hair. Pulls you impossibly closer, and he can feel how he squeezes the air out of you when you puff out a dulcet laugh into the crook of his neck. 

 When you bring your hand to the back of his head, the feel of your nails on his scalp and your fingers in his hair is enough to make him sigh, sink into the touch. It’s familiar. Feels like a natural progression, just like the way your cheeks brush when you pull away just slightly, only to come back. Closer this time. 

 His nose bumps yours, and he inhales your shaky sigh. 

 “I…”

 “Yeah?” Jeongguk breathes. 

 The shift is swift. The temperament of the atmosphere smoothly transforms– going from something saccharine and tenderly sentimental to something decadently rich and heavy. The air all at once becomes thick and intoxicatingly heady; plush and ardently warm. 

 The build-up is gradual. At first, the sudden heady note of warmth that makes your room hazy just feels like a blanket. Like it covers softly, tickles the skin lightly. Then it begins to seep in so slowly, gradually, that it’s not noticeable until the heat of it can be felt bone deep. Until fingers shake with the desire to touch. 

 It starts with Jeongguk nosing along your jaw; down the length of your neck when you tilt your head to the side for him. It starts with the occasional, accidental brush of his lips against your skin. It starts with your hand gripping tight in his hair, a subtle try at pulling him in to keep him near. 

 It ends with a kiss.

 Albeit, a fleeting one– but still a kiss nonetheless. 

 Pulling himself back, Jeongguk’s features are tensed. Eyes squeezed shut, teeth gritted as he struggles with himself. He’s rough when he gets a hold of you by your waist. His fingers digging in harshly; almost like he doesn’t realize how he’s handling you. But he’s gentle when pushes you away to put some space between you. 

 “Why–” you whisper, needy, as you bring your palms to cover his grip at your waist. You pet at the backs of his hands, coaxing him into letting them roam. You guide his touch down to your hips when he gives in briefly, encouraging him to touch you.  

 “I don’t know if– Maybe we shouldn’t–” 

 You crowd his space, bringing yourself to your knees and pushing his palms down to where the hem of your too-big sweatshirt grazes high on your bare thigh. Jeongguk groans after he loses his short internal battle. Can’t rob himself of squeezing at the meat of your thighs just for a second before he’s trying to pull his hands from yours.

 He doesn’t get very far because you end up cradling his face in your hands, angling his head up to look at you. And Jeongguk’s always been so easy for you. It’s no surprise how easily he yields to the movement; how easy his eyes slip shut. How easily he parts his lips when your tongue teases the seam; how easy it is to get lost in the taste of you. 

 “Shouldn’t what, Gguk?” you ask in a soft voice. Each word spoken between the kisses you’re trailing down the column of his neck.

 Jeongguk keeps his hands mostly to himself. Awkwardly letting them hover by your sides as he searches his brain, trying to recall the reason why he’s clinging to his resolve. It is so hard though, when you’re right in front of him. So willing and eager to let him have you. He finds himself following your lips when you barely let the plush center graze his cupid’s bow. 

 “Maybe we should… take it slow?” he offers, dazedly. It wasn’t supposed to sound like a question, but Jeongguk can’t help the way his voice carries up at the tail end like he’s not sure that’s really what he wants. 

 A little giggle falls from your lips, puffs hotly over his. And Jeongguk’s never thought you evil before, but right now he’s certain that you are. Because, with wistful mirth still in your voice, all you do is nod like you’re simply humoring him and say, “Yeah, maybe.”

 Then you kiss him again, sighing a delicate, ‘Touch me’ against his lips.

 You bring his awkward hands to your body, placing them on your tits, urging him to cup and squeeze over your sweatshirt. 

 Jeongguk exhales shakily, unable to keep himself from rolling them in his palms. 

 “Yeah,” you whisper, “Please.”

 His hold on your chest turns rough, accidentally letting his pent-up frustration out through his touch and taking it out on you. It doesn’t hurt, not really, but you still whine. Let out a high, airy keen as your eyes slip shut and your head tilts back. 

 There’s no warning. Only Jeongguk’s hands moving to your shoulders, followed by a push and then a tumble, ending with you on your back and Jeongguk hovering over you. He’s got your wrists pinned by your head, and he looks down at you with dark eyes. The frustration in them juxtaposes the surprise in yours. 

 “You know that’s not fair, ___,” he chides. His tone is harsh, trying to sound stern, maybe angry– but there’s a slight waver in his voice that tells you he’s struggling to stay collected. 

 Fussily, you squirm under him. You tug against the hold he has on your wrists, only for him to squeeze tighter. You cant your hips in an attempt to rub up against his, only for Jeongguk to just lift them higher. A laugh of incredulity pairs the disbelief on his face when he glances between your wiggling frame and your irritated pout. 

 “I’m trying to do things right,” he explains around his bemusement, as he roughly presses your wrists deeper into the mattress. “I’m trying to be good.”

 You stare up at him with pinched brows. He looks so pretty above you. Flushed a pretty pink with his lips parted and plumped by the kisses you managed to steal. A stray, misplaced strand of hair flutters with his heavy breathing. His eyes keep flitting down to your lips, and you can physically see how much he wants you; how hard it is for him to fight it.

 When he finally lowers his body to yours, it’s almost defeatedly. Jeongguk gives in and just rests his weight on you. Presses himself against you, hot and hard between your legs. Finding his place easily when you open up and make room for him.

 He keeps that pressure on his cock while he exhales a trembling, almost relieved sigh. His nose brushes yours but when you tilt your head to connect your lips, he pulls back. He does it again, taunting you with almost-kisses until you’re craning your neck again.

 He doesn’t kiss you back when he lets your lips connect. In fact, you can feel how he purses his stubbornly. You stay determined, unswayed by his resistance. Your soft kisses inch from his mouth to pepper cute, all over his blushing skin. The scar on his cheek, the bridge of his nose. The just barely off-center freckle beneath his bottom lip. When your palm naturally settles on his neck, fingertips over his pulse point, you let out a breathy noise of wonder when you feel how fast his heart is racing. 

 And he feels his cock kick shamefully in his pants, letting out a breathy noise of his own. You feel it too and you coo, soft and fond, as you trail your other hand down his spine until it’s flat on the small of his back, pressing encouragingly. 

 Pulling his bottom lip between his teeth, Jeongguk hangs his head to get closer to you. He bites gently at the pudge of your cheek, letting his teeth drag lightly until he’s mouthed hot, all the way to your ear.  

 “Why won’t you let me be good?” he whispers. 

 He croons prettily against the shell of your ear before he nips teasingly at your earlobe. A heat curls in your belly, making you suck in a short, whiny breath. The insides of your thighs clamp tight around his frame. 

 “Be good to me,” you gasp, arching up into him.

 Jeongguk moans quietly and buries his face in your neck when he can’t stop his hips from stuttering into a clumsy rhythm. Sloppily rutting his cock over your panties, uncoordinated and eager.

 Maybe he’s overly sensitive, hyperaware of your body underneath him, but when you begin to roll your hips, meeting his and matching his pace– he can feel how the little bit of added pressure has you opening up for him. Just enough for his hard-on to slide between, barely pillowed by your panty-covered pussylips. Even through the clothing, he can feel the difference. Like he knows you can. 

 He hears the unexpected moan you let out when you feel his cock rut over your clit and he feels the way your nails dig into his back at the sudden enhanced pleasure before he shifts to rest on his forearms so he can see too. 

 And what a pretty sight you are. 

 Eyes hazy and heavy, half-lidded as you look down your body to where he’s making you feel good. Cheeks flushed a rosy pink with arousal and maybe a little bit of abashment when you glance up at him and see him already watching you. You give him a small, shy grin before letting your eyes flutter closed. Basking in how he’s making you feel, your mouth falling open in a silent moan.  

 As he takes you in, his lips part with a low groan. His own pleasure coming from pleasuring you; heightened by every noise, look, and movement you make. Jeongguk gets such a specific satisfaction and gratification from making you feel good. From being good to you.

 “Is this what you want?” Jeongguk whispers, slowing down some. He settles into a steadier pace, rutting his cock up and down on your cunt with slow, lazy drags. 

 He grins to himself because of how quick you are to nod and let him know that, yes, this is what you want. His hand comes up to smooth some of the flyaways that have sprouted from your squirming and he cups your cheek when your turn into his touch. 

 “Hmm?” he prompts, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. 

 You huff, annoyed, and he can’t help but coo, smitten. 

 “Yeah– yes I want this, but I–,” you start off strong. You hold his gaze until shyness wins and has you focusing on the necklace dangling from his neck. The LV sways some as he continues to rock his hips. “I want more, too.”

 “Yeah?” Jeongguk asks, a smile lacing his dreamy tone. He gives a quick, soft peck to your red-bitten lips in lieu of letting you answer. “I know you do,” he tells you, murmurs it with open-mouthed kisses against your throat. He pulls at the neck of your sweatshirt, draws a violet into your collarbone, using his lips as the pen. Then he tugs the thin skin between his teeth briefly, making you inhale harshly before he kisses it better. 

 “Gonna take care of you,” he promises, “take my time with you.”

 Jeongguk proceeds at his own languid speed, lingering on every new inch of skin that’s revealed as he rids you of your sweatshirt. Of your panties. 

 He allows you your own pace as well. 

 Doesn’t spur you on when you’re slow to open up his dress shirt, doesn’t goad you into nimble quickness when your fingers stumble and it takes you far longer than it should to undo all the buttons. He doesn’t hurry you when your touch drags over his skin, or when your palms falter at his shoulders, or when your fingertips lag all the way down his arms when you finally slide the button-up off. When your shaky hands bide their time, hesitating at the buckle of his belt, he doesn’t rush you. 

 Jeongguk takes his time –and lets you take yours– as if time itself doesn’t exist when it’s passing between the both of you. As if each moment that comes and each moment that goes is inconsequential because moments are meaningless and time is simply a concept when forever is right now. 

 Nothing really matters and there’s no need to rush when he’s in your hands and you’re in his arms and forever is in his heart.  

 “Not yet,” he lilts, grabbing your wrists and sliding the flat of your palms up his tummy and away from his waistline. 

 “But I–”

 “But I–” he flirts coyly. 

 Your mouth opens to argue, but the words never get a voice. His mien makes the words in your throat fall mute and causes a feeling of wistfulness to rouse in your heart.  

 Knelt on his knees between your legs, smiling down at you, playful and flirty. Happy. Wearing a pink full-body flush– Jeongguk is stunning. Distractingly so. 

 He’s glowing; gentle yet radiant. A quiet fondness reflected in his eyes as he looks at you with that well-worn adoration of his. It’s a familiar affection. One that you’ve missed, yearned for, and memorized– one that you’ve tried to unlearn and tried to forget, too, because of how much it ached to remember. 

 Nostalgia is a wonted thing that taints good memories until it hurts to remember them. It warped the memory of Jeongguk’s adoration until even just a fleeting thought about it hurt. It made you want to wipe your memory clean just to be freed from the yearning.

 But with him looking at you the way he is, with that same raw adoration, you can’t fathom how you wanted to forget how it made you feel. How it still makes you feel. Because how good does it feel to be adored? How good does it feel to be wanted? How good does it feel to be finally his? 

 You dig your nails into his skin at the thought, and his tummy tenses. His grip on your wrists tightens and he lets out a soft hiss, the sound buoyed by a light, airy chuckle.

 His thumbs run over the pulse points in your wrists. “Lean against the headboard for me? Get comfy?”

 Cushioned by a few pillows, you do as he says, sinking into the down. Your knees are bent, and your arms are wrapped over your middle, now hyper-aware of how exposed you are comparatively. 

 Jeongguk’s top half is just as bare as you, only his necklace still on. But even though his lower body is covered, his bottoms are unforgiving. Dark slacks belted at his hips, the slight dip by his hipbones accentuated and his v-lines disappearing into the waistband where his cock is tucked away. Too hard and heavy to disguise, clothes doing almost nothing.  

 Not that he’s trying to hide it much at all. He’s palming himself casually, his touch light and his eyes dark. Tracking your movements while he waits for you to get settled. 

 When you are, Jeongguk makes his way to you, his hands resting on your knees as he lets his gaze roam. From your eyes to your lips, to your pillowy tits, to your closed legs. You feel a light pressure, almost tentative like he’s asking for permission with his touch.

 He’s on his best behavior though, so he asks you as well. And when you hear how his voice comes out a little deeper, with an almost imperceptible tremble, as he gently asks, “Can I?”,  your lashes flutter and your thighs reflexively press together, before you let him guide them open. 

 Time isn’t real, but any time in your bed shouldn’t go to waste. So he swiftly resituates himself, resting between your spread legs with his lips naturally finding their place on your neck, his hands on your skin. 

 Jeongguk’s quick, but attentive, as he relocates his mouth. The spit from his kiss marks leave a faint, wet trail from where they start at your neck down to the swell of your tits. He sighs when he gets a hold of them, jiggling a bit and squeezing. He glances at you through his lashes, as he plays your nipples, teasing them till they’re hardened by his touch. He smiles to himself when he sees you bring your bottom lip between your teeth to keep quiet.

 When he uses his lips to tease, he hears you sigh an airy, pleased sound. He’s smug as he swirls his tongue, flicks lightly over the stiff little peak. You take a deep breath, your chest expanding and pushing into him, before it’s released in a stuttery exhale. When you get a hold of his hair, the strands curl around your fingers, softly, like how you hold him close and cradle him to your chest. 

 He gives the paired nipple the same attention. Has you mewling prettily with each lick and suck. Whining with each bite and tug. 

 As he follows the length of your body, he does so with small, suctioning bites. A little nip just below your sternum, a little nip under your ribs. One at the softest part of your lower belly, right next to the pink heart of your belly ring. He gives the jewel a tiny, baby kiss.

 “This is the same one that you had in the first time we…” he stammers, too aware of the blush that simmers just under his skin at the thought. “We… you know… right?”

 Jeongguk’s laying on his front, his head resting against your inner thigh. His arms wrapped around your legs, resting on your belly. The tattooed fingers of his right hand absently toy with the dangly part of the jewelry. 

 Something warms you from the inside, pleasantly surprised by the mushy, lovesick feeling that washes over you. Your heart beats, rapid in your chest, and you wonder if Jeongguk can feel the whirlwind of butterflies in your tummy under his palms. 

 You nod, blushingly and shy. “Yeah, it’s… yeah.”

 “Just as cute as I remember,” he nods back. The puffs under Jeongguk’s eyes form when he smiles and adds, “This one is my favorite… Gonna make you feel good now, okay?”

 He says it so casually, that you want to laugh a little, but the anticipation it sparks makes you tense. Your pussy clenches on nothing, and you can feel that tell-tale heartbeat pulse between your legs. 

 “Okay… yeah…” you whisper dumbly, trying to hide how eager you are. You slowly open your legs a little wider so you can see him better, so he can touch you better. 

 Jeongguk switches from having one of his hands wrapped around your thigh to it resting palm down on your mons. He uses his thumb to lightly run along your plump folds, up and down. His eyes are fixed on your pussy, and his tongue peeks out to wet his lips a little before he nibbles on the inside of his lip, a soft smile making the corners curl. 

 “Just as cute as I remember,” he says again, his tone playful and a little wistful this time. He kisses just above your slit.

 Past lovers had said your cunt was pretty or maybe perfect when they found themselves between your legs, but Jeongguk has always called your pussy cute. It’s just a thing he does. And you don’t know why, but it never fails to make you blush, a little giddy and shy– something just so simple and sweet about his word of choice. 

 Even now, it has you wiggling and trying to inch your legs closed as you bring your hands up to hide your face. It’s whiny, but you both know you don’t really mean it when you say, “Stooooop” the word dragged out and laced with pleased flattery.

 You can feel Jeongguk’s warm laughter puff over your cunt as he urges you to keep your legs spread. He hums as the giggles subside and says, “Don’t be shy now, I’m just getting started.”

 A wistful sigh sounds, and it’s soft and cute and taunting when you say, “Okay well, hurry up.”

 You shift slightly here and there to get more comfortable, running a hand through your hair as you resist the urge to smile back at Jeongguk when he gives you a look. When you bring your arm down from your hair, Jeongguk snags it, guiding your hand to your cunt. But when you start to play yourself he stops you, tuttingly.

 “Don’t touch, just– open up for me,” he instructs, “Show me.”

 Jeongguk groans under his breath when you do as he says. When he stroked over your pussy lips just a moment ago, they were plush and smooth, soft to the touch with your arousal tucked neatly between your folds. But with them spread, he can see how you’re glossy with slick; so dewy when he’s barely even touched you. 

 “You’re already so wet. How long have you been like this, hmm?” he wonders aloud, gathering a small bit of the sticky clear at your opening with his finger before just barely pushing it inside. Kind of like he’s trying to put the little droplet back where it came from; not let it go to waste. Then he brings his touch to your clit and your pussy slick aids the up and down swipes of his thumb. 

 “Ah– fuck,” you faintly gasp. 

 Jeongguk’s cock pulses as you bring your other hand down, using both to spread yourself open more and pull back the hood of your clit. Making sure his touch is direct and the sensation feels as good as possible. The thought of you already being so greedy for pleasure is enough for him to leak, precum surely leaving a wet patch in his briefs. 

 Even though he’s being gentle, when he rubs over your exposed clit, you shy away from his touch despite being so fiendish for it. Jeongguk babies you with a coo because he knows that you’re probably so sensitive. You gave yourself almost no time to warm up, afterall. 

 “Too much?” he asks you.

 With a shake of your head, you say, “No, no… just– slowly, please.”

 Your words make him smile and he gives your inner thigh a honeyed kiss for being so good. The smile lingers because slow is the pace he always intended to use, at your request or not. It’s how he intends to finish you too. For the first time, at least. 

 Jeongguk keeps that slow speed until your body relaxes and another few drops of clear slick drip for your cunt. The thumb of his other hand rubs softly over your taint as he collects what you leak and tucks it back inside. Your pussy clenches and your hole puckers at the sensation every time, and it makes him fucking throb. 

 The thumb on your clit only speeds up enough for it to not be torturous or agonizingly slow, the pace satisfying but remaining lax and unhurried, like he has all the time in the world. Once he finds a good rhythm, he keeps the motions constant and consistent.

 When you start to get antsy and fidget, he smiles to himself knowingly. 

 “Feels good, baby?” he asks you, and when you nod, he whispers, “Yeah? Look so pretty…”

 And you didn’t lie. It does feel good. But he doesn’t go any faster. He doesn’t push the fingers at your opening in any farther. And after a handful of seconds that feel like minutes that feel like hours– there still isn’t any indication that he plans to.  

 When you roll your hips, trying to hint at what you want, Jeongguk stops you with a scolded tsk, telling you to stay still. The sound you let out is frustrated and petulant.

 There’s a taunting note in Jeongguk’s voice when he says, “I thought you said it feels good?”

 “It does,” you tell him, “But– faster?”

 Jeongguk’s expression is entertained, chuffed even. “I told you I was gonna take my time with you. Need you to be patient for me, baby–”

 “Please–”

 “Hush, ___.” 

 There’s still lingering amusement in his tone, but there’s also a sharpness, a hint of disapproval and something stern that wasn’t there before. It’s enough of a warning to silence the begging on the tip of your tongue. 

 “I’ll get you there, baby,” he says, his voice sweet again. “It’ll feel so good, I promise.”

 It’s quiet for a moment. Then–

 “I changed my mind, it doesn’t feel good.”

 Jeongguk doesn’t even look up from your pussy when he asks a preoccupied, “No?” Then he peeks at you, and when you give a pouty nod he hums. It’s smiling and mirthful when he dismisses you. “Well, don’t worry. It will soon.”

 Jeongguk is content between your thighs, still playing with your clit slowly. He only checks on you when your squirming mostly stops and you become suspiciously mute. 

 He snorts when he sees you scowling at him. “Don’t look at me like that.” After a few seconds with no response, he continues with, “Oh, so you’re going to be difficult now?”

 You shrug, snooty. 

 Laughing, he asks, “You’re really gonna act like it doesn’t feel good?” The corners of his lips curl softly and his eyes narrow like he’s scrutinizing you. His head tilts a little when he continues with, “Like you’re not leaking, right now? Like you wouldn’t be making a mess on your sheets if I wasn’t helping you?”

 Jeongguk watches your cheeks steadily turn a deep pink at his words until you look away from him, turning your nose in the air. You probably would have covered your face with your hands to avoid his gaze had they not been occupied.

 He chuckles again when he’s only met more silence. Just the slightest squirm when he tucks another leaked droplet back into your cunt. To make a point.

 “That’s okay, you can be mad at me as long as you’re patient, too,” he says, tone grossly fond and a perfect example of the patience he wants from you. “Still gonna make you cum. Still gonna be good to you and give you what you want.”

 And it seems what people say about patience being a virtue and all that, is true. Because just like Jeongguk said, with just a bit more time and some decorum, it does start to feel even better.   

 Like the way he’s been touching you, the come-up is slow and steady. The hot waves of pleasure that ebb in your lower belly. The rise and fall of your chest that gradually gets faster. The noises that get harder and harder to keep in. 

 Jeongguk doesn’t need to hear you, though, to know he’s getting you there. But he’s enjoying this brattier side of you –he remembers you being difficult every now and then, but overall you were always so good for him; never fought him too hard on things– so he humors you by asking, “Starting to feel nice, baby?”

 Everso tart, you shrug again, looking off to the side. 

 Still, Jeongguk doesn’t need to see your face to know he’s getting you there. Your pussy is a whistleblower, telling him everything he needs to know. Your cunt– leaking non-stop, contracting constantly. Your tiny clit– now puffy and swollen from all his attention. 

 Your fingers holding your pussy lips apart for him have a mild tremor. Your brows are arched when you finally give him your attention again, watching his thumb swipe up and down, over and over again. Your legs are beginning to tremble beside him. Your head is lulling back, and your lungs are exhaling a lewd sigh. 

 “I– I’m close,” you whisper, breathlessly.

 Jeongguk purrs, is just about to tease you and your stubbornness with something along the line of ‘Really? Thought it didn’t feel good, ___’. But he doesn’t get the chance because of how close the string in you is to snapping. How it’s pulled so taut that it has you near tears, that slow and steady come-up finally peaking.

 “Oh my god, Gguk– my– my pussy’s gonna cum,” you cry quietly, legs shaking as you struggle to keep them open.

 “Mhm, I told you, baby,” he hums, smug, “Let me see how good it feels.”

 Your face is turned into your shoulder, but you nod for him. Focusing on the ruining, slow, consistent rubbing of his thumb. The pleasure is so mind-numbingly good that, as much as you want to cum, you try to make it last as long as possible. 

 Which isn’t much longer at all, only a few more vertical swipes over your clit is all you can handle before you’re mewing a soft warning and cumming so hard your body convulses.

 “That’s my girl. So pretty, baby. Did so good; always such a good girl for me,” Jeongguk praises, full of lust-filled awe as he watches you finish. He feels your clit pulsing under his thumb and he sees your cunt squeezing repeatedly around nothing and now he that he’s not preventing it, he sees how your pussy cums– leaking everything that he tucked away and dripping down to your sheets. Making a mess like he knew it would.

 He continues to rub your clit until your body twitches, curling in on yourself as you close your legs and bring them to your chest. Wrapping your arms around the backs of your knees and pulling your legs to your chest, you curl into yourself for protection as Jeongguk moves to shed himself of the rest of his clothes. Then he sits on his heels while he watches you, amused. 

 Even though you’ve made a great attempt at hiding your pussy away, with the way you’re positioned it still peeks out from between your thighs. Puffy and shiny. 

 You’re on your back with your eyes closed, still catching your breath. The feel of Jeongguk’s hands on you makes you jump, and when his touch moves form the backs of your thighs closer to your sensitive cunt, you whine, kicking at his arms weakly.

 “Shh,” he murmurs, “I won’t touch, I just want to look.”

 Somewhat soothed by his words, you begin to shift to a more relaxed position but Jeongguk pushes your legs back together and your knees back to your chest. 

 You gripe at being manhandled. “What if I want to see, too?” 

 “You don’t need to see if I tell you what I see,” Jeongguk reasons.

 “It’s mine,” you argue.

 “Ours,” he corrects.

 After telling Jeongguk that he’s dumb and asking him to please shut up, both of you dissolve into a fit of laughter. When you kick again, trying to get his shoulder as punishment, he gets a grip on your leg before you can land the hit and he kisses your ankle. You sigh.

 It’s quiet, and you’re content letting Jeongguk pet at you, listening as he tells you about what he sees. He says cute a few times. Wet, messy. His fingers brush over your folds, even plumper than before, and you can feel the sticky wetness that stays behind when he moves his touch to somewhere else.

 When he uses his thumbs to part your pussy lips, you hear him whine. The breathy noise makes you grin, and you hum lightly. 

 “Still cute?” you ask aloud. Eyes on the ceiling, smile still on your lips.

 Jeongguk knows he said he wouldn’t touch, but he doesn’t think you’re too sensitive anymore. He still bypasses your clit just in case when he slowly runs his fingertip to your opening. When he presses into the second knuckle, you moan sweetly and the sound mixes with the audible wetness. There’s a crystalline string still attached to his finger when he pulls away. 

 “Mhmm,” Jeongguk hums, answering your question. “But so messy.”

 You bite your lip when Jeongguk slips his finger in again, a little father this time. 

 “Clean me up, then,” you whisper, airy and wispy. 

 Jeongguk hums and when you look to the sound, you can see him peeking at you over your bent knees that are still pulled to your chest. He scrunches his nose at you cutely, and you mirror the curve of his lips.

 “I guess I should, since I’m the one who made you make such a mess,” he hums, like he’s mulling it over. But the fact that he does so while lowering his face to your cunt shows that he’s already made his decision. 

 In this position, you can’t see him and it makes you tense in anticipation while you wait.

 Jeongguk knows it’s a little mean to keep you waiting, but he can see you so perfectly like this. Can see how you’re trying control your arousal and calm yourself down with deep breaths. He can see how it’s not working.

 “You’re shaking,” he observes dreamily. 

 Your pussy leaks and he watches that glossy slick drip down. He uses his pointer finger to play with the droplet at your hole, swirling the dewiness around the cinched muscle.

 The sigh you let out is stuttered, and your hole clenches under his touch before you force yourself to relax again. You swallow your embarrassment before you admit, “I want it really bad, Gguk.”

 You sound like you’re close to crying and Jeongguk soothes you with wet kisses on your thighs. 

 “All you have to do is ask, baby,” Jeongguk tells you gently. His kisses move till they’re right next to your pussy, his tongue poking out to lick just outside your folds. His thumbs pull you open and he blows lightly.

 “Oh my god,” you whimper. 

 Jeongguk’s voice is full of flirty, mirth when he asks, “What do you say? Hmm?”

 The heartbeat in your cunt is the only thing you can focus on. The pulsing is so loud and strong that it drowns everything else out. You don’t even really hear it when you sigh a hazy, “Please, sir.” 

 Predictably, your words go straight to his cock. But weirdly enough, he also feels them in his heart? He can’t explain it but somehow the lust thrumming through him melts into something fond? A lovesick impulse has him opening your legs so he can slot himself in between.

 He doesn’t lay on you but holds himself above on a braced arm. His free hand comes up to cup your cheek as he looks at you. The corners of your eyes are damp, confirming the tears he thought he had heard in your voice earlier. Your lips are redder and a bit swelled, probably from you pulling them between your teeth.  

 Jeongguk kisses the corner of one eye, then the other, and then your lips. His thumb glides over your cheekbone. He sounds gentle when he says, “No ‘sir’ today, okay? Just Gguk.”

 You nod in his hold. 

 “Good girl,” he smiles, soft and sweet. “I’ll clean you up now, won’t tease you anymore.”

 You breathe a relieved sigh as Jeongguk kisses all the way down your tummy and you think about how good it’s going to feel, after all this time, to have his mouth all over your cunt. To feel his tongue licking into you, deep and slow. To feel his lips wrapping around your clit with light sucks. 

 The closer Jeongguk gets to your pussy, the harder it is to keep still. He smiles as you squirm and you can feel it in the juncture of your inner thigh where his mouth has strayed. It’s not too long before he gets back on track, kissing his way to your pussy till his lips are tucked between your plush folds and the tip of his tongue is circling your clit. 

 Your mouth drops open in a silent moan as you sit up, resting on your elbows to watch him. Just the sight of him is enough to make the first surge of heat curl in your belly. He’s got his eyes closed, lashes sitting pretty on the highs of his cheek as he licks at you. Cleaning you up and making a mess of you all at once. 

 “You look so pretty,” you whisper as you card a hand through his hair, pushing the stands off his forehead and out of his face.

 Without stopping his tongue, Jeongguk glances up at you, his eyes half-lidded and hazy. He moans pleased and happy into your pussy. Only pulls away for a second to whisper a cute ‘thank you’.

 His tongue is busy and so are his hands, running them up your body. When he gets to your tits, he’s harsh. Digging in and squeezing with palms that are just as greedy as his mouth. He uses the hold he has on them to pull himself closer, push his tongue deeper. The harshness of his touch makes you hiss, the hand you have in his hair tugging. 

 Jeongguk’s eyes roll back a little before he loosens grip, squeezing your tits once more, gently this time, as an apology. Then he’s smoothing his palms along your waist till one’s wrapped around your thigh and the other’s resting on your tummy.  

 He pulls away briefly to look at you, offering a sheepish grin before he pecks just above your slit. The hand he has on your belly absently fiddles with your bellyring.

 “Sorry,” he says, “I just– I don’t know, I didn’t notice how rough I was being.”

 You hum while you rest your feet on his back and wiggle your toes. 

 “I think I’ve just been wanting you for so long…” He turns his head and nuzzles into your leg by his head, his hair tickling the sensitive skin. “And now that I have you, I–” His lips graze your inner thigh with every word and when he’s at the softest part, he bites gently. 

 On a sigh, you ask, “You what?”

 Resting where his teeth just were, he tilts his head, looking up at you. “It’s hard for me to control myself. I just– can’t get enough of you.” His words are said with a sigh and uttered in between roaming wet kisses. 

 After he promises he’ll be more careful with you, he begins to lick broad stripes over your cunt. When you spread your legs wider, you can feel the flat of his tongue against your clit. But it’s just slightly, just a brush of his tongue. 

 “My clit,” you moan, looking down your nose at him, “Play with my clit.”

  He hums, pulling back a little. With your legs parted so wide, your pussy lips are spread just enough for him to see the little bud. He watches you as he uses the very tip of his tongue, flicking repeatedly over the sensitive spot just under your hood.

 Your brows pinch and your legs twitch as they naturally try to inch close, the feel of Jeongguk’s tongue so good and so much that your body is already on the verge of being overwhelmed. 

 “Ah– yeah, like that, Gguk,” you sigh letting your head roll back, basking in how good he’s making you feel, “Keep licking my pussy like that.”

 Your eyes lull shut while you let him make you feel good, and it’s then that you notice his hand on your tummy is still toying with your piercing. It’s distracting only for a moment, only before you realize that every time he does something to your clit with his tongue, he does the same to the dangly part of the jewelry with his fingers.

 When Jeongguk circles your clit, he twirls the charm. When he licks up and down over your clit, the little heart gets flicked too. When he suctions his lips and sucks your clit in and out of his mouth, he tugs gently on your belly ring.

 You can’t be sure if he’s doing it on purpose. One part of you thinking the patterns match up too well for it to be unconscious, the other part thinking it could just be an absentminded coincidence. You also can’t be sure why the nuanced touches are making the pleasure in your gut curl so tight; burn so hot.

 “Gguk– you’re gonna make me cum again…” you drone, lustdrunk. 

 He smiles while his tongue continues to lick lightly. “Am I?”

 While looking down your body at him, you nod. Your body already pulling taut with the tension that always preludes your orgasms.

 Jeongguk’s lips wrap around your clit and he gives a quick sucking kiss before he pulls away with a little pop! sound. “Not yet, I’m not done cleaning you up.”

 Groaning, you throw your head back. “You said you weren’t gonna tease anymore.”

 “I did,” he confirms, his big palms finding the backs of your thighs and pushing them back, “But not so you could cum– so I could clean up your mess–”

 “Your mess–”

 “Our mess,” he amends, the tips of his fingers straying to the newly exposed parts of you. Jeongguk brushes over your hole, and you suck in a small gasp. “You’re messy here too, baby.”

 Whining softly, you squirm as Jeongguk presses light, sucking kisses into your skin and there’s a subconscious urge to close your legs to keep him from getting where he so clearly intends. At the first signs of subtle hesitance, you feel his hands hold your legs open more firmly

 “Let me?” he breathes, “Please?”

 And something about how his voice is so soft –hazy and dreamy and full of so much lust and desire– has you relaxing, giving in. Docile and pliant in his hands. 

 You suppose some things may never change.

 The first feel of his tongue tasting you where no one has before makes you exhale a shaky sigh. Your hole puckering under the featherlight licks he gives. When he circles the cinched muscle, your mouth falls open and you look down your body and between your open legs to where Jeongguk already has his eyes on you. 

 His eyes get little puffs under them when he sees your reaction and smiles. The confusedly pleasured pinch of your brows. The tense way your hands grip the sheets under you.

 Giving your cheek a quick peck, he asks, “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

 It makes the memory of him –hot and hard and leaking with your tongue on his hole– flash in your mind. It reminds you that he knows what he’s doing to you, that he knows he’s making you feel good because you made him feel the same way. Sure the anatomy’s different, but a tongue is a tongue and a hole is a hole. 

 In lieu of being difficult, you answer him with a moan; with your head hitting your pillows again.

 That’s confirmation enough for Jeongguk as he echoes your moan with his own. He wraps his lips around the tight muscle in a nasty wet kiss and then drags his tongue up and along your leaking center till he’s at your clit where he plays until he works you into a whiny mess.

 You’re tensing, and he can feel how your body shifts as your chest expands with the deep breaths you’re taking. Like you’re trying to focus and keep yourself earthbound by delaying the impending high. 

 It’s a high that’s inevitable though, and you have a warning on the tip of your tongue only for it to go to waste when Jeongguk makes his way down again as soon as he senses it.

 And he repeats this– alternating between rimming you tauntingly and eating you till he can tell you’re right on the edge. You can feel how he smirks and you’re sure it’s amusement that you can hear prettying up little noises he purrs. His continuous teasing has you letting out barely contained whiny keens. 

 But Jeongguk can tell you’re doing your best to behave. The brattish way about you from before is nowhere to be seen. Not even when he feels your body slump for the nth time, panting from another almost-orgasm he takes away.   

 “You’re gonna cum aren’t you?” Jeongguk wonders aloud, pulling back a little to see how your pussy clenches in anticipation.

 He hears you swallow, flicks his eyes up to watch as you bring a hand up to tug a little at your hair. It trembles a little as you bring it down to his locks.

 “I- yeah… just… please…” You tug, pulling him to your clit by the crown of his head and holding him there with both hands. “Just stay there, please…”

 You can’t help the way that you start to roll and grind against his face. Jeongguk’s lips and his tongue rubbing against you repeatedly with the up and down motion of your hips, and his nose bumping your clit a little every now and again. 

 His hands dig into your waist like he’s trying to pull you closer, suffocate himself with your cunt. It’s when he shakes his head with subtle little side to side motions over your clit that your pleasure peaks with your legs shaking before they’re closing around his head.

 You cum hard and quietly, hushed ‘don’t stop’s and ‘keep going’s tumbling from your lips as you hold his mouth against you until you can’t take it anymore. You use one hand to pull him away by the hair, your other coming down to press against your still pulsing pussy. 

 With the hold you still have in his hair, you deliriously guide and maneuver him upwards. You’re still trying to catch your breath, so the quiet awed, ‘Whoa…’ you voice sounds airy

 The position you’ve got Jeongguk in now has him straddling you across your upper torso with strong thighs caging you in. His cock bobbing a little right in your face. Heavy and flushed, the tip an angry shade of pink and shiny with precum. It’s instinctive when you reach out with your small hand to wrap around the base. And again, something awe-filled tumbles from your mouth.

 “You’re so hard…” 

 The words float past your lips in the form of a breathless whisper, your lashes fluttering as your gaze jumps from his cock to his face. Your hand strokes lightly, just your fingertips running over the warm, silky skin. 

 “Missed you,” Jeongguk says with a tiny, unabashed shrug. As if that’s explanation enough for the state he’s in.

 He smiles with his bottom lip tugged between his teeth and you smile back.

 The pad of your thumb rubs at the underside of the crown when a drop of precum leaks, massaging it in messily. “Can I use my mouth?”

 “Mhmm,” Jeongguk sounds, not trusting his voice enough to not shake.

 You begin by placing weighted kisses along his length, starting at the base till your lips pucker around the slit. The heady taste of precum makes you purr, moaning softly. Jeongguk’s hips cant forward, and when you glance up you can see how his head has rolled back.

 Smiling at how affected he already is by the smallest things, you run your teeth over the sensitive head. You anticipate the hiss that Jeongguk sucks in. Your tongue swirls around to soothe and to taste before your mouth opens to swallow. 

 The tip of his cock barely grazes the back of your throat before Jeongguke is pulling his hips back and choking just slightly on the whiny gasp that gets caught in his throat. He threads a hand in your hair and tugs you off. 

 Your forehead is resting against his lower tummy, and you giggle a little before you kiss at the slight jutting of his hipbone. His cock throbs, and he groans.

 “What’s wrong?” you ask, smiling into him.

 You can feel his fingers massage lightly at your scalp, and when you glance up at him, he’s looking down at you, lovesick as he rolls his eyes at your playfully. 

 “Go slow, okay?” he asks softly, “Tease me a little?”

 Closing your eyes briefly as you let the sound of his moonstruck voice wash over you, you kiss sweetly at his hip once more before giving small kitten licks to the warm, flushed skin of his cock. He sighs like he’s in love.

 “Like this?” you ask, coquettishly. 

 Jeongguk nods when you look up at him with your mouth open and the tip of your tongue flicking lightly.

 “Lick the tip,” he whispers while he gets a hold of himself and guides it to your mouth. 

 You keep your eyes on him as you slowly drag the flat of your tongue with long licks.

 “Good… that’s good baby…” he says airily.

 Jeongguk glances down his nose at you for just a moment longer before his head is rolling back, and he’s moaning. His little sounds are quiet, but they’re almost constant. And you’re really not doing much, just licking softly at his frenulum, but you can already feel how his cock is getting stiffer, can see how the muscles in his tummy tense and untense… like he’s already getting close.

 Kissing the crown, you pull away, stroking over him lazily. Squeezing at the base when he kicks in your palm. “Already?” you ask gently.

 Jeongguk’s eyes are squeezed shut, like he’s trying to keep his composure, but at your choice of words, he laughs lightly. “Yes, already,” he tells you, pointedly. “That’s why I said to go slow.”

 Slow is good for you. Slow lets you take it all in. Take all of him in. 

 Slow lets you tease drop after drop of precum out; lets you coax your name from Jeongguk’s lip over and over again until you’re sure you’ll hear his lovechants in your dreams tonight. Slow lets you memorize the way that his hands twitch wherever they touch you, how he gasps when your tongue does something that feels extra nice, how he whines when you bring your free hand up and roll his balls in your palm. 

 He’s a bit predictable, endearingly so with the blush on his cheeks as he urges the hand toying with his balls a little farther back. You smile to yourself as you touch him, rubbing at his taint and taking a moment to just watch his face. 

 Jeongguk’s eyes are shut, mouth just barely parted. His brows pinch just slightly when you inch your touch farther back and the cinched muscle clenches briefly under your fingertips, before he relaxes. It’s light and hazy when he whispers, “Yeah, baby…”

 The light circles you’re tracing around Jeongguk’s hole have his cock throbbing. You have to wrap your lips around the head to keep him still enough to taste and properly tease, sucking with tiny bobs of your head as you drink down everything he leaks. 

 “I– ___, oh my god–” Jeongguk pants, looking down at you, like he can’t believe you or your mouth, can’t believe how good it feels to have you again. 

 You hum, lips still wrapped around the tip of his cock as you smile up at him as best you can. His chest expands with a sharp inhale when you press your fingers a littler firmer against his hole.

 “Want me to put them in?” you ask between the soft open-mouthed kisses you press to his cock.

 The sound that Jeongguk lets out makes your kisses cease and has you sinking your teeth into your bottom lip. Your thighs rub together, and your pussy is needy between them.  

 Jeongguk’s never done it before, at least not fully and with someone else. But the thought alone is almost enough to make him finish. It would be a first for you and him, together. Something he’s been wanting, craving.

 He’s still trying to get his thoughts in order when you prompt him with a patient, ‘Hmm?’. 

 “I- No, no–” he ends up saying, “Just– just play with me.”

 It’s sighed, laced with lust and contentment. Having you right now, just playing as he said, is more than enough for him. The anticipation does feel nice though, hot and sweet like a whispered promise of next time. Jeongguk wonders if you’ll ruin him. 

 “You just want me to play?” you ask, “You don’t want to cum?”

 And Jeongguk’s sure you will. Ruin him, that is. If you haven’t already.

 Your voice comes out lovily teasing, and your hands stay busy while you look up at him, eyes big and so pretty. Lips glossy with spit, maybe a little bit of his precum. 

 “Not– not yet?” 

 Jeongguk’s voice sounds unsure in your ears, and his actions contradict his words when you bring your lips to his leaking tip. His hips roll forward seemingly on their own accord, the most sensitive part of his cock rubbing against your tongue that you’ve pillowed underneath the crown. 

 A choked little whine falls from his open mouth before his head is lulling back and his hands are coming to your hair. Humming, you suction your lips around the head and bring the hand you don’t have busy to his hips, urging him to keep rocking his hips, slow so you can keep the pressure from your tongue constant. 

 “Oh my god– baby… baby–” Jeongguk moans, his gaze back on you. His brows furrowed and arched up, his mouth agape. 

 Under your touch, you can feel his muscles tense. How his breaths come out huffed and strained. How he sometimes tries to pull his hips away before he pushes them in like he rethought it, maybe like he never meant to. How no matter how hard he tries to keep from doing it, the stalling pace of his hips picks up.

 And you can tell he’s going to cum. 

 He keeps muttering these fucked out little whispers of your name, of baby, of my baby. Almost like they’re warnings, maybe pleas. But not pleas for you to stop, or tease him anymore. You can hear the difference, can feel it in the way he touches you. Can taste it on your tongue with every heavy drop of precum that he’s leaking.  

 It’s like a string snaps in him, when he groans something deep and dissonant and his hips stop all together and his hold in your hair turns almost painful as he uses his grip to work your mouth over his cock.

 “Yeah,” he breathes, “Don’t fucking stop… Gonna make me fucking cum–”

 His cock is throbbing in your mouth before he even finishes his sentence. Coating your tongue in so many thick, hot shots of white. You hum, moving your fingers from massaging his taint so that you can roll his balls in your palm. 

 Jeongguk’s hand is shaking a little when he brings it down to cup your face, when he gently pulls you off him. His cock still fat and bobbing with the aftershocks of his orgasm. He guides your gaze to his.

 He’s bracing himself above you with his forearm against your headboard, looking down at you a little sweaty and so flushed. Chest rising and falling with deep breaths. He’s got a little smile on his face when he runs the pad of his thumb over the plump of your bottom lip. Your mouth opens instinctively. The little smile on his lips grows before he’s biting it down.

 His thumb presses down on the fleshy muscle, and you naturally let your lips wrap around it.

 “Good girl,” he says, softly.

 His words are tangible, and you close your eyes and you smile as you just let the praise glide over your body. It’s almost like you can feel each letter press a kiss into your skin. 

 Jeongguk’s a copycat as he too presses kisses here and there while he resituates himself. Going from straddling your ribcage to finding his home between your legs. Until you manuver him once more. He’s still home, between your legs, but on his back with you straddling him now.

 Jeongguk doesn’t complain at the manhandling. Just looks up at you, rubs little nonsensical patterns just above the creases of your thighs. 

 “Can we do it now?”

 His laugh is bright and loud at first before he gets a hold of himself, but he’s still smiling as he lets his shining eyes and his hands wander. His fingertips trialing over your skin until his gets his hands to your tits. His thumbs flick over your nipples while he hums, amused. 

 “Now you have to wait for me to be ready again,” he tells you conversationally, still teasing you.

 You pout playfully, letting your own fingers explore, tracing the line of ink where his sleeve comes to an end on his shoulder. “So boring, Gguk,” you jest.

 He scrunches his nose at you. “Why do you think I told you, ‘not yet’?”

 Rolling your eyes, you reposition yourself; less over his torso and more over his hips. “Well,” you start, lowering your pussy down to where his cock lays flat on his tummy, “Waiting doesn’t have to be boring.” You drag your cunt over his still plump, but not-quite hard cock. 

 One of his hands quickly jerks down to get a hold of your hips and stop your movements. He hisses.. 

 He says something about how he never said it had to be boring as you reach between your bodies and get a hold of his half-hard cock. Goes on about how he literally just came and how he needs a second to recuperate as you bring the head to your wet opening. 

 “Can I?” you ask vaguely, interrupting him.

 He doesn’t say anything more, just gives you the littlest nod and he squeezes his eyes shut while you squeeze him into you. He’s not there yet, but he’s still sensitive and its still a tight fit.

 Jeongguk looks down his chest to where you’re sitting prettily on his slowly hardening cock. His eyes roll back slightly before he’s scrubbing one of his hands over his face. “You’re–”

 “Did you watch our video?” you interrupt again. 

 Stuttering a little bit, and winching some, Jeongguk uses the couple of seconds it takes for you to bring yourself down to him, to think. 

 “No, felt guilty… tried to hold out completely but ended up giving in and thinking about you…” he says, his hands finding their place at your hips.. 

 His answer isn’t what you expected but it still has you smiling softly, chest to chest, resting on your elbows, and playing with his hair. “And what did you think about?” you muse, words breathy and flirty.

 Jeongguk’s eyes instinctively dart to your curved lips. “Your mouth.”

 You scrunch your nose at him cutely as you ask, “On your cock?” 

 He gasps when you grind your hips just a little, the movement stiffening his cock up that much more. Jeongguk can feel his cheeks heat up as he shakes his head, the hands he has on your hips moving to your thighs and then back up, squeezing and making little chills crawl across your skin.  

 “On my lips…” he admits quietly, licking them. “Missed kissing you.”

 With a heart that grows fond in your chest, you lean down and give what he missed. Jeongguk sighs into your mouth, melts underneath you. He cranes his neck and the kiss deepens, his tongue slipping in between your lips. It’s not until you having him moaning softly into your mouth that you disconnect from him and make your way to his ear. 

 “Thought about you too,” you tell him, “touched myself to the thought of you missing me; wrapping your hand around your cock with me on your mind.”

 Jeongguk’s fingertips dig into the fatty part of your ass, latches his lips onto the junctre between your neck and your shoulder. He sinks his teeth in just a touch to quiet his moan. 

 The whiny moise that you let out precedes the, “I fanatasized about the way you would fuck me when you came back to me–”

 “I wanted to, but I just felt so bad–”

 “Shh,” you hush him, “Doesn’t matter now…”

 You finally make to move your hips for real this time, but lifting them has you letting out a tiny hiss of pain that’s followed by a cute, airy laugh. “Almost forgot how big you are.”

 Jeongguk’s heart was just tugging inside his chest but now his cock is throbbing inside of you. Even as he wonders if there’s been anyone since him. 

 But once you get over that first hint of pain, past the initial sting of him stretching and filling you up, the only wonder is how Jeongguk survived without you for so long. 

 The light from your blinds peaks through your hair; wild and messy and draping over your shoulder. The long strands almost act as a curtain, hiding you and Jeongguk away. Spots of sunshine come through here and there, and they hit different parts of your body as your body becomes his body. On the tip of your nose, over the curve of your breast, the tops of your thighs. 

 And Jeongguk’s knows he is so fucking lucky. Not because he gets to have you like this –warmed by his touched and sunlight– but because he gets to have it again. Because he gets another chance at having you at all, after fucking it up once already.

 “Gguk,” you pant, “I feel so good right now.” 

 You’ve gone from bouncing on his cock, to griding on it, feeling his tip rub against the deepest parts of you. Your palms are flat on his lower tummy, and when he grabs your hips, helping you move back and forth on him, your nails dig into the muscle. 

 It makes him moan, quiet like the little sounds that you can’t stop making. 

 Jeongguk knows he was basically on the verge of tears just a second ago, but he is still a man and he can’t stop himself from asking, “Who’s making you feel so good baby?”

 He can tell how fucked out and how close you are because of how easily you answer him. How being stubborn and bratty doesn’t even seem to cross your mind when you moan, “You, it’s always you.” 

 Pulling you to his chest and fucking up into your cunt is much sweeter than it probably seems. He does so to be close to you, to feel your chest against his, to feel how your body shakes as you get closer, to feel how you bury your face into his neck to try and muffle your moans and cries.

 “Yeah–” you sob into his skin, “you’re gonna make me cum– please– please, can I cum?”

 Your words come out staccato and irregular, punched out one by one by his cock as he fucks you faster. But Jeongguk doen’t say anything yet, just focuses on the slick sounds your pussy is making everytime he bottoms out, on the feeling of his cock sliding in and out of the slick, velvety heat, on how his fingers sink into your ass as he squeezes and tugs and pulls your cheeks apart to bury himself as deep as he can when he cums with you. 

 “Fuck, baby cum for me,” Jeongguk pants, his words a little rushed as he feels it all come to a head, “Cum all over my fucking cock while I cum in your pussy.”

 You don’t say anything when you cum, and neither does Jeongguk. Both cumming with nothing but gasps. Your’s sounding sweet, almost awed, as you just let your cunt squeeze and contract around Jeongguk’s cock, almost like you forgot you could cum that hard. Jeongguk’s are more guttural as his cock throbs, pulsing with each shot of cum he pumps into your pussy.

 ~~~

 “Your roommates are actually terrifying.”

 The voice makes you smile, laughing sleepily, eyes closed for just a moment longer before you turn your head to see a dishevelleddly dressed Jeongguk, holding a single glass of water in his hand. 

 He shrugs off his blazer that he’s wearing over his briefs (you’ve helped yourself to his button up), and sits next to where you’re laying down. He nudges you his foot till you sit up and take the water from him.

  It’s a content type of quiet while you both pass the glass back and forth, sharing. It only last for a minute or two before Jeongguk is clearing your throat.

 “So… what happened to your plant, hmm?”

 He must have seen the pitiful looking succulent in your living room when he went to get the water. And you know he’s just messing around and that he only said it to strike conversation and fill the silence, but still, it makes something ugly stir in your gut. 

 “You didn’t remind me,” you say, trying to literally shrug it off and give the topic a quick stop.

 But Jeongguk is giggling as he says back, “Oh, so it’s my fault?”

 “Everything is your fault.”

 It’s snappy and said with enough bitterness that Jeongguk is physically taken aback. But then he thinks and then he softens.

 “Hey,” he says gently.

 You look at him, eyes swirling with a mixture of anger and hurt. 

 Jeongguk brushes a little bit of your hair out of your face as he looks you over. “I know,” he acknowledges quietly. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am, but I hope with some time, you’ll be able to see it.”

 You frown a little before giving him a sad small smile and you bring your hand up to cup his cheek. He turns into the touch and gives your palm a soft kiss.

 “I know you’re sorry,” you tell him, “I know you are and I forgive you –my head knows that but– my heart is still sad.”

 Something about how you say it reminds Jeongguk of how young you are. But not in the way it did before. Not like your youth is a burden, or a red flag. It just reminds him that he needs to be careful with you. 

 “I know, and that’s okay… I know it’s going to take time,” Jeongguk gives you a sad, yet understanding shrug.

 And for once, it’s a good thing that time does what time is meant to. It passes and it allows things to grow; for things to heal. 

 “Speaking of time,” you say, lightheartedly trying to change the subject, “How long do I have you?”

 “As long as you want me.”

 Jeongguk’s reply is met with the most underwhelmed, flat stare you have every given him. He snorts before he says, “Till tomorrow afternoon– I have to pick up Nari.”

 His heart feels like it’s going to explode in his chest when he sees how your eyes light up at the mention of his daughter, at how you jabber on with questions about her. How has she been?, Is she talking yet?, Does she still have that narwhal?

 There’s a chance that he might regret it, but there’s also a chance that he might not. 

 So he asks, “Do you want to come with me?” 

 ~~~ 

 However long Jeongguk said it takes to get to his ex-wife’s house, all those months ago, escapes you.

 But right now, it feels like 10 years and 10 minutes all at once. 

 It’s dramatic, yes, how terribly you’ve been fidgeting in the passenger seat of the Mercedes. Even Jeongguk’s big, warm hand petting at your knee can’t quell the nerves.

 It’s making the atmosphere tense, and you feel bad when Jeongguk sounds like he’s walking on eggshells when he tells you, “Thank you for coming with me, I’m really happy you did.”

 You feel even worse when you respond with, “I don’t think I want to go to the door with you.”

 The ever-soothing hand on your leg stutters for barely a second before continuing just as it was.

 “That’s totally fine,” he assures you, eyes on the road and one hand on the steering wheel. “You don’t have to, but if you change your mind, you can. It is your choice.”

 The hand squeezes your thigh reassuringly. 

 And it’s quiet for the rest of the drive. Until Jeongguk is pulling into an empty spot in the driveway of a very big, very nice house. Right next to a Porsche. 

 “Of fucking course.”

 “___.”

 “No, you’re right,” you say, raising your hands appeasingly, “You’re right, I shouldn’t even be surprised–”

 Jeongguk interrupts you with his hands on your cheeks and his lips on your. 

 “Shut.” He gives you one kiss. “Up.” He gives you two kiss.

 His affection makes the tension in your body dissipate and your shoulders slump. “I’m sorry.”

 With his thumbs rubbing over the apples of your cheeks, he gives you a small, understanding, patient smile. Then he asks if you’re sure about not coming to the door with him because he is stupid. 

 You tell him as much as you reiterate how you do not want to go to the door and this time, Jeongguk is the one raising his hands in surrender as he exits the car.

 Leaving you alone with your thoughts.

 Should you get out of the car? Wait inside? Should you have brought Nari a gift? Will she remember you? What if she doesn’t?

 When you hear a distant, familiar baby-giggle, you end up opening the door and standing between Jeongguk’s car and Dasom’s. You feel a little dumb until you hear the pitter patter of little feet on the brick driveway. 

 “I have a surprise for you Nana,” you hear Jeongguk sing cutely.

 And you hear Nari gasp excitedly in response, even cuter.

 As the pair get closer, you can see Jeongguk’s top half over the car, how his arm is swinging back and forth because of the tiny hand that’s holding his where you can’t see.

 Nari is dressed in a black jumper dress with a long-sleeved heart-patterned shirt on underneath when she pops out from behind the car and next to her dad. Kept warm from the slight chill in the air by her knitted tights and her teeny-tiny ugg boots. She’s still round, but she’s gotten taller and you coo softly to yourself.

 But Nari hears the little noise you make and when she sees you, she stops in her tracks. Her little bobble head looking between you and Jeongguk. Then she’s tugging on her dad’s pinky that she’s got a hold of.

 “___!” she says as she nods towards you, like she’s letting Jeongguk know that you’re right there. She sounds sure, almost a little bossy. Doesn’t stutter even a second to remember you. Kind of like she never forgot you. 

 “Ah– what’s with the nodding missy?” Jeongguk tuts, then he looks at you and shakes his head exasperated yet amused. 

 Nari has the nerve to giggle, a big girl no longer brought to tears by her daddy’s scoldings. She looks up at him grinning before she shrugs, like she doesn’t know what got into her. As she raises her little shoulders, her free hand comes up too for emphasis. And gripped tightly in her little hand is her stuffed narwhal. 

 You’re happy.

~~~~~~~~~

aaaaand SCENE. omg heyyyy long time no see girlfriends <3 i hope that u think this was worth the wait but am debilitatingly scared that it did not meet ur expectations so i am hiding <3 im sorry for how long it took but it is here now n that is all my tiny hands have to offer!!  i would love to know what u thought, so please do al the things: reblog, like, comment, send an ask~~ thank u for waiting for me and for reading ily muah :*

[teapartyprincess4two]

can't stop thinking about Full Set because it is just perfection. the writing, the pace, the length, the way you portray the characters, and literally everything. It's an absolute crime that you don't have more fics?!?!?!

Way Over Love- C. Sturniolo

pairing: Influencer!reader x FWB!Chris

classification: fwb, suggestive, smut, angst

warnings: 18+, MDNI, suggestive content, slight smut, slight angst, mentions of cheating, jealousy, alcohol use, cursing, toxic relationship, toxic Chris, no use of y/n

inspiration: Drunk Calls by YSB Tril

summary: Chris struggles to accept that he likes you as more than a friends.

—

It started off so innocently, you and Chris sharing a conversation in the hallway of a crowded influencer house party. You spoke about how stressful being on social media had become; eyes always watching, people always judging. The two of you could relate to each other and as the night progressed, you both became more and more inebriated. A simple conversation turned into two strangers giving into their deepest, darkest desires and fucking relentlessly in the restroom. You weren’t able to get enough of each other.

The next day you remembered all of it, your core pulsating at the memories. An Instagram DM in your notification center from Chris let you know that he remembered it too. From that moment on, you two have been addicted to each other, unable to go more than a few days without seeing each other. Without feeling each other.

It was car sex, shower sex, bored sex, stressed sex, come over I’m lonely sex. So much physical attraction eventually led to an actual friendship. The friendship became precious to you both too, trumping the sex. That’s when the rules came in; NO STRINGS ATTACHED. You two were going to remain friends who fucked, that’s it. No if’s, and’s, or but’s about it.

Eventually your lives became more intertwined than you’d ever planned for. Your friendship blossomed and you began to gain friends in common. You met his brothers and you guys all began collaborating together, you and Chris would film your own content, and you’d even go out as friends. There was something special about you and Chris on screen, you guys made so much money working together and playing into the rumors. But for the sake of both your careers, you kept your relationship a secret.

Before you could realize it, the lines of your situationship became blurred and you found yourself yearning for Chris in more ways than one. He’d always leave right after, leaving you to tend to the mess that was left behind. You thought he was leaving so he wouldn’t have to engage in meaningful conversation with you, but it was really because he couldn’t trust himself to stay longer. If he stayed he’d surely steal loving kisses, let his hands linger too long, and say something he’d later regret.

—

You’re currently laying on your bed editing a video so it’s ready to upload on time. Your phone rings from beside you, pulling you from your deep concentration. You pick the phone up to check who’s calling, but you know who it is; Chris. You pick the phone up, excitement already bubbling inside of you, “Hello?”

There’s a brief moment of silence on the other side of the phone, Chris is home and he needs to find a secluded area. If his brothers heard him on the phone with you they’d either become suspicious or ask to crash your hang out. He rushes down to his room before responding, “Hey, you busy?” The answer was yes, but for Chris you were never too busy. “No, why?” You ask, but you know why. It was always the same thing, Chris would come over, you would fuck, then he would leave. Yes, the sex was good, but for once you wanted something more.

“You know why,” he’s rolling his eyes on the other side of the phone even if you can’t see him. He tugs his shoes on, ready to call an Uber and make his way over to your house. A chuckle escapes your lips at his response as you reply, “need a ride?” He wanted to say no to save you the drive, but every time you pick him up you guys have the hottest car sex. Then you either head back to your place for another quickie or grab something to eat, or both.

“Yes please,” his tone is so cute, almost like he’s asking for the last piece of candy. It reminds you of all the times he’s begged you to touch him from beneath you. “I’ll be there in 15,” you say, jumping off your bed and walking to your closet to slip on some shoes. You’re fully clad in your pajamas, but Chris has seen you naked enough times for you not to be embarrassed.

“Ok, baby,” the nickname slips so easily, but before this he had only ever called you that during sex. You decide not to comment on it, but as soon as he says it a shiver runs up your spine. All you can think about is him panting ‘baby’ again and again with every thrust. You hang up the phone before you say something you don’t mean, grab your keys and head outside to your car.

—

When you arrive to Chris’s house he’s already waiting for you outside. He’s sitting on the curb, watching the cars pass by. He can’t contain the excitement he feels when he sees your car round the corner. All he can think about is you in the backseat, the foggy windows hiding you from the world.

You pull up next to him and he quickly hops in. “Hi, sexy,” Chris greets with a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. You roll your eyes but allow him to pull you in for a quick kiss, the first of many tonight. “Hi,” you whisper against his lips, pecking him one last time before putting the car in drive. The drive to your favorite parking lot is quick, coming to you like second nature.

As soon as you put the car in park, his lips are back on yours and his hands are on you in an attempt to feel you closer. “I missed you so much,” he groans in between kisses, he didn’t want to pull away even to breathe. You whimper when he says this, you missed him too even if you just saw him two days ago. “Come here,” he instructs, pulling you over to the passenger side by the waist.

It happens before you can process it, the car is rocking and the windows fog with every hot breath and moan. Hand prints adorn the sweaty window, both of you grunting and groaning at the feeling of being so close. “You feel so good, baby,” he murmurs as he watches himself slip in and out of you in awe. His voice alone is enough to send you over the edge, clenching around him as you come undone. You’re too fucked out to answer, instead dropping your head on his shoulder and allowing him to do the rest of the work.

He follows suit shortly after with a loud grunt as he pulls you off of him and makes a mess on himself. His face is red and his hair is disheveled, but to you he looks perfect. You’re still sitting on him, both of you catching your breath as you take in his beauty. He feels your eyes on him and becomes awkward, “alright, you can get off me.”

The change in his demeanor feels like whiplash, he was calling you baby just a few seconds ago and now he’s commanding you to get off of him. “Sorry,” you scoff sarcastically as you fix your pajamas pants and slid back over to the drivers seat. You hated how easily he was able to switch up with you. For once you wished it could be more than just sex with Chris, but you knew he would never take your relationship beyond that.

The awkward tension settles in the car as Chris reaches into the center console for a napkin to clean himself up with. “You hungry?” He asks, wiping away at his sweatpants. “No,” you snap with a roll of your eyes.

Chris is quick to quip back, “What the fucks your problem?” His jaw is clenched. You don’t respond, instead turning the car on. You’re so ready to just drop him off at his house and be done with him for tonight. Finally you gain the courage to respond back, “you’re my problem.” He groans in annoyance and rolls his eyes, he wasn’t in the mood to put up with your attitude today. “Whatever bro, you always do this shit,” he says, putting his seatbelt on aggressively and pulling his phone out from his pocket.

“I always do this shit? You switch up as fast as you cum bro,” you said it so fast that you didn’t even realize it. Had you gone too far? His eyes go wide, he can’t believe you just said that. By this point you’re outside his house and place the car in park, unlocking the door dramatically. You’re hoping he’ll take it as his cue to leave so you can be done with this conversation. “You’re such a bitch sometimes,” he mumbles, unbuckling himself and opening the car door.

He doesn’t say anything else, he just gets out of the car dramatically and slams the door in the process. “Wow so mature!” You yell as you watch him walk towards his house. He throws a middle finger your way and disappears inside.

You didn’t mean for the night to end like this, but you weren’t going to tolerate his disrespect. Every time he treated you like a side piece you couldn’t help but let your emotions get the best of you. You were done with him for sure this time.

—

Your no contact period with Chris didn’t last too long, a couple days later he was drunk calling you from a random party begging to come over. “Chris, you’re drunk,” you say into the phone, scrolling through Netflix for something to watch. It was late and all you wanted to do was curl up on your couch with a warm blanket as you watch your favorite tv show. But for some reason you can’t find it in you to hang up the phone.

“Yeah, drunk in love,” he hiccups as he serenades you by singing Drunk In Love by Beyonce loudly through the speaker. You laugh at how his singing directly juxtaposes the trap music in the background. You wish he was always this carefree. “You don’t mean that,” you say through your small laughter. “Why wouldn’t I mean it?” His words are so slurred and the music in the background is so loud that it’s hard to hear him.

“Because you’re drunk Chris,” you sigh, knowing that if he was sober he’d never be this sweet. “Never stopped you before,” he hiccups again, staggering slightly as he makes his way through the crowded house party. He was looking for his brothers, who decided long ago they didn’t want to be near Chris and his drunk behavior. “I was drunk too, dumbass,” you say with a roll of your eyes.

Everytime you say ‘drunk’ he’s triggered to start singing Drunk In Love by Beyonce and you can’t help but laugh. “See, I knew you loved me,” he coos playfully through slurred syllables, finally finding Nick and Matt amidst the crowded room. Nick heard what Chris said and wondered who the hell he was talking too, but he realized that Chris was so drunk that he probably didn’t even know. “Who said anything about love?” You tease, getting up from the couch to make your way over to your room.

You’re beginning to get tired so you hope Chris gets distracted and hangs up soon, especially because the conversation is dipping into risky territory. You snuggle up under the covers, a small yawn echoing through the room. He hears your yawn and slightly frowns at the idea of hanging up to let you rest. “You tired?” He asks, a solemn tone in his voice. You hum in response, pulling the comforter up higher against your body.

“Okay. I’ll let you sleep, baby,” his tone is so sweet and gentle that you find yourself wishing you could freeze this moment in time. You hum in response. “Goodnight baby, I’ll call you tomorrow.” He’s still so incredibly drunk so you know he won’t remember any of this tomorrow. “Goodnight,” you murmur, hearing the phone click when he hangs up.

The next day you wait for his phone call all day. It never comes, you should’ve known better.

—

It’s been two weeks since that drunken phone call from Chris and he’s been texting your phone nonstop. Every text has gone unread, you’re completely over being strung along for his entertainment and pleasure. You’ve still been uploading your videos and posting on Instagram according to your schedule so Chris knows you’re just ignoring him.

You’re currently at brunch with a few friends, all of them grossly unaware of your situationship with Chris. Your phone has been buzzing nonstop and your notification center is filled with messages from Chris.

“Girl who the fuck is blowing your line?” your friend Amanda asks, watching as your phone lights up incessantly with messages. “Oh it’s just Instagram,” you lie, turning your phone over so the screen is face down on the table. This doesn’t make it less annoying though, the buzzing interrupting your conversation with your friends again and again. You’re about to shut your phone off, but Amanda grabs it aggressively off the table.

The rest of your friends watch in shock as she reads through your messages, Amanda’s eyes widening with each message she reads. “Give it back,” you grumble, attempting to snatch your phone back but she holds it out of reach each time. “Who is Chris?!” She exclaims, standing from the table dramatically to show your other friends the messages. This had to be one of the most embarrassing moments in your life.

“He’s just a friend,” it comes out as a plead. You’re pleading for your phone back and pleading that she doesn’t ask any more questions. “Doesn’t seem like it,” your other friend LuLu chimes in as she reads all the messages for herself. You want to crawl into a hole and stay there forever.

“Wait is this one of those Sturniolo kids you’re always collabing with?” This time your friend Rachel speaks. She was your closest friend out of the three and was always up to date on everything related to your channel. You feel like a little kid who just got caught stealing candy. “Bitch, are you two… fucking?” Raquel asks, putting all the pieces together as she begins understanding the context of all the messages. I mean of course you were fucking, why else would you be so secretive?

You’ve all caught the attention of surrounding customers at this point and all you can do is pray that none of them know what or who they’re talking about. “It’s complicated,” you say with finality, finally snatching your phone back. “Mm yeah. Seems pretty complicated,” LuLu snickers before taking a sip of her drink. “I miss you baby,” Amanda mocks, quoting one of Chris’s messages to you. “Come over. I need you,” LuLu follows in Amanda’s footsteps, mocking and quoting the messages dramatically.

You hadn’t read them yet, but it warmed your heart to know he missed you. Your face is burning hot with embarrassment but you can’t help the smile that creeps its way onto your face at the thought of Chris missing you. At the thought of Chris needing you. “Ew don’t get all blushy and romantic,” Raquel says with a fake gag. You roll your eyes playfully before responding, “we’re just friends who fuck, okay?”

“Hmm, I don’t know. He seems pretty in love,” Raquel replies with a shrug. You roll your eyes again. ‘Chris in love? Yeah right,’ you thought, internally dismissing the idea before you can get your hopes up.

“Can you hook me up with one of his brothers?” Lulu asks jokingly, causing you all to laugh and return to normal conversation.

—

When you arrive home you make your way to your front door as usual, completely oblivious to the fact that Chris was sitting on your front doorstep waiting for you. He watches your every move, taking in every curve of your body.

“Where have you been?” He asks, catching you completely off guard. He stands up from the front step, wanting to block your way inside. You’re about to scream and run away before you realize it’s just Chris. What the fuck was he doing at your house? “Brunch,” you reply hastily, moving past him to make your way inside.

“With?” he grabs you by the elbow, a little too aggressively for your liking. You yelp from the sudden pressure, but he doesn’t let go. He doesn’t even realize he’s hurting you. “Let go, Chris,” you attempt to yank your elbow from his grasp but he adjusts his grip so that he’s holding your arms. “Who were you with?” He asks again, becoming slightly more aggressive with his tone.

“What does it matter? We fuck, Chris. That’s it,” this time you’re able to wiggle out of his grasp. You storm inside, but before you’re able to close the door on him he stops it with his foot. “Were you fucking someone else?” He asks, managing to get inside ‘What the fuck?!?’ you thought, how was he so stupid?!

“First you got all bitchy with me in the car,” he says, preparing an entire mental list of all the things you’ve done in the past couple of weeks. “Then you don’t answer my calls,” he’s counting on his fingers at this point. “Not to mention all the unread messages,” his voice is loud and intimidating, but you’re not one to shy away from an argument.

“I did answer your call,” you quip back equally as loud, referring to that one drunken phone call. “When? Huh? When?” He walks closer to you, closing the gap between you two almost completely. His nose is flared and his fists are balled up, and although you know he’d never hurt you, you’re still a little scared. ‘He really doesn’t remember,’ you thought, your heart breaking. He was so sweet that night over the phone and he doesn’t even remember he called.

“The other night,” you reply in a hushed voice, so embarrassed that the phone call meant so much to you. “Fucking bullshit. Who else are you fucking?!” he isn’t listening to reason, he’s fully convinced you’re seeing someone else and keeping it a secret. “Why do you care?!” you’re both at 100% now, caught up in the argument and blinded by rage. Since when does he care so much who you’re with or who you’re fucking.

“Why would I want anyone else fucking my girl?!” The room goes silent as soon as he says it. Had he really called you his girl? You scoff and roll your eyes, you knew better than that now. He never meant it and you weren’t about to be played again. “I was with my friends,” you say, completely over this conversation. The sooner he leaves, the better.

“My girl friends,” you reiterate, emphasizing ‘girl’ so he gets the hint that you’re not fucking anyone else. He coughs awkwardly, scratching the back of his head. “Oh. Sorry..” he says, but you don’t believe him. You’re so tired of all the empty apologies.

“Can you just… go?” you sigh. You’re not upset, just mentally drained from this entire interaction. At first he thinks you’re joking, you’ve never kicked him out before. He’s usually the one who rushes to leave while you beg him to stay. When he realizes you’re not joking he’s at a loss for words. Chris watches as you walk over to the front door, opening it and standing next to it so he can peacefully and quietly leave. You’re tired of fighting.

He feels like the walls are closing in on him and pushing him out the door because his feet are moving but his mind is telling him to stay, to fight for you. “Baby, I’m sorry..” he pleads, trying to catch your gaze. You don’t even look at him, you can’t even look at him. He takes the hint and walks out. You were done with him and this time it was real.

—

It’s been months since you last spoke to Chris. After he left your house that day you blocked his number and erased any and every trace of him from your life. You threw away clothes, deleted pictures, and mentally reminded yourself everyday to move on. Nothing has been the same since and you would be lying if you said you didn’t miss him, but you needed a fresh start.

Chris has been a wreck ever since. He wants to show up at your house, but he’s afraid you’ll just end up fighting again and you’ll hate him more than you already do. He hasn’t gotten rid of anything not even the clothes, the pictures, or the memories. In fact, he can’t stop scrolling through his camera roll to look at pictures of you. Nick and Matt have noticed the sudden drop in his mood and the lack of your presence, but they don’t say anything. His fans have also noticed a change in his demeanor, commenting on how sad he looks and how you haven’t recorded with the triplets in a long time.

“There’s a party later at Mario’s. You going?” Matt asks Chris, both of them sitting in the living room. Chris wanted to say no, but he quickly decided that today was going to be the day he got over you. “Who’s going?” Chris asks, wanting to make sure he wasn’t going to walk into a situation where he’d have to confront you. “I don’t know? People?” Matt replies sassily, rolling his eyes at Chris’s stupid question. How was he supposed to know who was going? “Yeah I’ll go,” Chris says, not putting too much importance in Matt’s sassy attitude.

As the party nears, Chris spends an abnormally long time getting ready. If this was his reentry back into the ‘dating’ world, he needed to look good. “Chris! Hurry up!” Nick yells from upstairs, he and Matt waiting impatiently on the couch for Chris to finish getting ready. “I’m ready!” Chris yells back, running up the stairs to show his brothers the outfit he put together. “How do I look?” He asks, stretching his shirt out so his brothers can gain a better view. “You look normal. Let’s go,” Nick says annoyed, not even looking at Chris’s outfit.

The drive to party isn’t too long and the whole time Chris finds himself wondering if you’ll be there. Mario was a mutual friend of yours so maybe, just maybe, you’d be there. He wants you to be there, but he also doesn’t know what he’ll do or say to you. Would you even want to talk to him? If you did, what would he say? What would you say?

The three of them arrive to the party, making their way inside the house and weaving in and out of the crowd to find their group of friends. Chris can’t help but scan each room for you. He feels both sad and relieved when he doesn’t find you. He dabs up his friends as he passes them, grabbing a drink along the way. As he’s taking a swig, he finally sees you. He does a double take, trying to make sure it’s actually you.

You’re standing outside talking to some guy Chris has never seen before. Immediately the jealousy and rage fills Chris’s body. Who the fuck is that guy? “I’m gonna go find Madi. I’ll be right back,” Nick shouts over the music, patting Chris’s shoulder to grab his attention. Chris breaks his attention from you briefly to look at Nick. “What?” Chris asks loudly, he didn’t hear Nick on account of the music and because he was too busy keeping tabs on you. “I’m gonna go find Madi!” Nick shouts louder as he begins to walk away.

When Nick leaves, Chris looks back to where you were standing, but you’re no longer there. He looks around him, doing a full 360 in an attempt to find you again. His mind was racing with the thought of you and that guy. Where were you? Did you sneak off with him? Who the fuck even is that guy? “I’ll be back,” Chris dismisses himself from Matt and his group of friends quickly, rushing out of the room to look for you. Everyone gives him weird looks, but quickly revert back to their previous conversations.

At this point Chris has gone up and down the stairs so many times he feels his calves burning. It feels like he’s entered every room at least 50 times but he still can’t find you. He’s about to give up as he rounds a corner, somehow finding a room he hasn’t entered. The door is cracked open slightly and from the corner of his eye he sees you. You’re sitting on the bed with the same guy as before.

It takes everything in him to stop himself from barging in. He watches attentively to see what you two are doing. So far, it looks like you’re just talking, but the anger doesn’t dissipate from his body at the sight of you with another man. When you lean into the guy Chris decides he’s seen enough. He barges into the room abruptly, causing you and your friend to jump apart in shock.

“Oops, didn’t see you guys,” Chris says sarcastically, a fake smile plastered on his face. “Chris?” you ask, still in shock at how he barged in. He ignores you, instead looking at your friend before saying, “you can leave now.”

Your friend doesn’t say anything, he just gets up and hurriedly leaves the room sensing that something he wasn’t meant to see was about to happen. “What the fuck are you doing?” you ask in anger. This was the first time you’ve even seen Chris in months, let alone spoken to him and of course you two are already arguing. “Who the fuck was that?!” He answers your question with a question, his tone so much louder than yours already.

“My friend!?” You respond as if it wasn’t already obvious that the guy who was just in here is just your friend. “Yeah, that’s why you’re in here alone right?” The question is rhetorical and it’s such a stupid statement. Friends can be alone, what the fuck was he going on about? “You know what? I’m not putting up with your shit,” you stand from the bed, ready to walk out and leave this behind you.

Chris blocks your path and grabs your face in his hands, pulling you into an aggressive kiss. He isn’t thinking, he’s just acting out of anger and desperation. He needed a reason to keep you in here longer. You don’t pull away, even if you know you should.

Before you know it, the both of you are caught in a steamy and aggressive make out session. His hands are moving from your face to your body, roaming it like it’s the first time. Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him in closer to you. His hands rub circles in your ass before cupping your thighs to pick you up. As if on cue, you jump up and wrap your legs around him. You’re both so in sync, his touch was enough to trigger your body to act on muscle memory.

With you wrapped around him, he walks forward to lay you on the bed. The second you hit the bed he becomes gentle with you. He was never gentle with you, at least not like this. You’re now laying under him on the bed and for once he’s not letting his gaze wander all over your body. His eyes are locked on yours, he wants you to know that nothing matters in this moment more than you. “Chris-“ you begin, but he hushes you with another kiss.

“Just you and me, baby,” he whispers, moving from your lips to your neck slowly. He undresses you slowly, not breaking eye contact with you for a second. If you tell him or give him any reason to believe you don’t want this, he’s ready to stop. Your eyes are glossed over with lust and you feel your core clench with every passing second. “Please,” you whimper, wanting nothing more than to feel him after all these months without him.

“Tell me, baby,” he encourages you to use your words, he’s ready to make you his once you say it. “I need you, Chris,” you whimper, propping yourself on your elbows as you watch him undress. Your mouth waters at the sight, this feels so different from all the other times you’ve had sex and he hasn’t even touched you yet. Even if it’s at a loud house party it feels so intimate.

He’s inside you without a warning, but he’s so gentle and slow that it sends a shiver up your spine. A moan escapes his mouth, his forehead flush with yours as he holds your neck for support. He missed you so much that he could cum just from the look on your face. Your mouth is agape, small moans slipping from you with each thrust. The feeling of him inside you is intensified by the realization that he isn’t just fucking you, he’s making love to you.

His head drops to your shoulder as he pants your name, the pleasure of you being wrapped around him sending him closer and closer to the edge. Your nipples are grazing against his chest and his pelvis is rubbing against your clit with each thrust, causing you to throw your head back in pleasure against the pillow. As you feel your climax approaching, you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him in closer. That’s what sends Chris over the edge, his hot spurts of cum filling you up before he can pull out. His groans fill the room, his arms trembling as he struggles to keep himself from falling onto you.

His hot breath grazes your neck with each moan, as he slowly rides his climax with a few more strokes inside you. You climax right after him, clenching around him repeatedly. He’s now whimpering against your neck as you clench around him, so sensitive and vulnerable to your touch. Chris stays inside you for a little longer, only using his remaining strength to lift himself off you slightly. You looks so beautiful under him, he wishes he could take a picture and keep it forever.

The moment is so precious, but you can’t help but chuckle at how you ended up here in the first place. “He’s gay by the way,” you whisper, not wanting to ruin the beautiful moment you just shared. “What?” Chris chuckles in confusion, finally pulling out of you. He lays next to you, pulling you into his body because he’s not ready to let go just yet. “My friend. He’s gay,” you respond, pushing his sweaty hair away from his forehead.

Chris thinks for a minute, finally remembering the friend in question. He lets out a boisterous laugh, his chest vibrating against you. “Sorry, I thought he was getting it in with my girl,” he apologizes through small chuckles. You laugh too, bringing Chris in for another quick kiss.

“Your girl?” you ask with a goofy smile, tracing mindless shapes against the arm that was wrapped around you. “My girl,” he responds with finality. He kisses you again, his arms holding you tightly against him. He’s never letting you go again.

—

MASTERLIST

A/n: if it’s a crime I don’t have more fics, here I give you toxic, slutty Chris. This is my first time writing smut in a longggg time so don’t be too harsh. I’m still not sure if I’m going to make it a regular thing for my stories to occasionally include smut, but this story was fun to write and very different from everything I’ve written thus far. Also, if you guys prefer Matt stories over Chris stories that’s fine I’ll write more for Matt soon. I’m also working on a PLATONIC Nick story so we’ll see when I post that. K byeeeee

- L.A.M.B 👼🏻💗

[crusty-chronicles]

Hiei and Kurama Seeing Their S/O at the Dark Tournament

Synopsis: Hiei and Kurama see their demon s/o after being separated from them.

Kurama 🦊

He had come a few hours early to scout out matches. To see what exactly he and his friends would be up against. It looked to be a standard team with fairly predictable attacks. One on one battles for the best of three. Currently the two opposing teams were tied.

He thought nothing of it until they each brought out their last fighter. One of them looked eerily familiar. A face he remembered staring at oh so lovingly.

One of which belonged to his previous life's memories. He remembers the feeling of your skin on his. Your eyes that always seemed to hold affection when gazing at him. Your smile. The sound of your voice greeting him first thing in the morning and being the last to bid him goodnight.

It wasn't until he heard your name being called that his suspicions were confirmed. He was nervous to see you face to face tomorrow. He knew he didn't have to fight you, but he didn't want anybody else to jump at the chance.

You were his. 

His one and only when he was Yoko. And now that the opportunity had presented itself, he wouldn't settle for anybody less in this lifetime either. 

You've changed from when he last saw you. You're stronger. Your eyes are colder. Your attacks cutthroat, ending the match within seconds.

You've never looked more desirable.

When he finally meets you in the ring, he can't stop himself from admiring each and every little detail on your face. He's struggling not to approach you with familiarity. With warmth.

You're his enemy here. He has to beat you. He just can't risk letting you win and putting his team at a disadvantage. But a part of him yearns for your recognition. For you to drop hostilities and just talk.

He knows he's different now. He's human. It would be impossible to recognize him without proof. Without knowing the way he fights. The way he talks. The very way he presents himself. Although he's sure all that's changed too.

Koto announces the fight to begin, yet both of you stand still. There's hope, he tells himself. And as you continue to face off, he can see it. The way your expression shifts ever so subtly. 

He opens his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it.

“I thought you were dead.” You accused.

There's hurt in your voice, as if you'd been betrayed. And in a way, you were. You thought your lover had been dead all this time. He doesn't know what he would've done if the roles were reversed. 

Seeing you hunted down and unable to reach you. Thinking humans had murdered you right in front of him. Only to then see you prospering some years later. All that time grieving you when you were perfectly fine.

He would've been upset too. 

He doesn't know what to say to you. Where to begin his explanation. Trying to find any words of comfort that might give him an indication of your feelings. If you'd still want him after all these years.

“I almost was.” He said at last. You only looked at him expectantly. Urging him to finish what he had to say.

“I was able to transfer my soul into an unborn child last second. I was biding my time to get stronger. To retain most of my previous powers. But..” But something changed.

He became accustomed to his human life. He stayed for his mother. Would you think any less of him for that? For choosing the very species that almost ended his life?

“So you've been in hiding this entire time and never thought to tell me?” You asked, though he could tell it wasn't really a question.

You didn't care that he stayed with humans. You were more hurt he didn't inform you what was happening. Letting you think he was dead. It makes him feel relieved.

“I had no means of finding you. But now that you are here in front of me, I do not plan on letting you slip away again.” 

He'd make you his again. He sees the way your expression softens completely at his declaration. How he misses the way you used to look at him. 

“Even if I've found another?” Your tone is teasing. A good sign.

But the thought of you being here with someone else makes his blood boil. It has him drowning in a feeling of possessiveness.

“He would have to kill me for your hand.” 

---------------------------------------------

Hiei ⚔️

Hiei thinks it's some cruel twist of fate to see you here. On the opposite team no less. He wanted you scrubbed from his mind. He wanted to forget you, yet here you stood in front of him.

Truly some higher being is messing with him. First it was his sister looking for him, and now it was you. His beloved mate that had left him when he was plotting to steal the three sacred items. You'd warned him not to.

Begged him not to.

And you were right. You were always right. But he'd been spiteful back then. Consumed with his own greed for power. For a short time, he resented you for leaving.

However, he was not the same pitiful creature he'd once been. 

He was smarter. Stronger. And he'd prove it to you. This was still a match, after all. Regardless of the past you shared, he'd beat you. Feelings had no place in the battlefield.

The fight had officially begun. He lunged forward, sword drawn and making precise slashes. 

You dodged his attack with ease, skittering back a few feet. Spirit energy charging up in your palm. That was new. You were in front of him in an instant. And just when he thought you'd send a blast to his stomach, it completely vanished.

“You've become soft.” You noted. Your face just a few inches from his.

He jumped back as if he'd been burned. It'd been a while since he heard your voice. He should've taken the opportunity to strike you down. Instead he glared, your comment irritating him.

“I assure you I'm not weak.” He disagreed.

“That's not what I meant and you know it.” You let out a tired sigh and gestured behind him.

“You have friends now. A warmer look in your eye…It suits you.” 

There's no denying your words have an effect on him. Embarrassment creeping up his spine. He doesn't like the way you regard him. The affection you still hold for him.

“Our interests align is all. I still plan on taking over the human world. Something you were too coward to do.” His tone would have sounded cruel to anyone but you.

But you knew Hiei. Even after all this time, he hadn't changed when it came to expressing himself. You took great pleasure in making him squirm. A teasing smile on your face when you spoke.

“And how did that pan out for you the first time?”

You can see his face redden ever so slightly. A rebuttal on the tip of his tongue before you continue on. Your expression becoming more somber.

“I only left because my love wasn't enough. You wanted more. Things I couldn't give you.”

Power.

Your confession something he'd already considered being the cause of your absence. Now that it had been confirmed, he can only kick himself for his past mistakes. 

You had been enough. Taking care of his wounds after a fight, your touch soothing his Jagan when he first used it, joining his pursuit to find Yukina, your affections when it was just the two of you….All of it had been enough.

He's yearning before he knows it. Wanting you by his side once more. To reclaim the mate he'd lost to hubris. It makes his guard drop down significantly. 

“But you're different now. You have people to help steer you in the right direction.” You added.

“Those fools could never compare to you.”

He can see another teasing smirk brewing beneath the surface. He instantly regrets trying to comfort you.

“Is that so? They sure do make you happier than me. I don't think I've ever seen you smile this much before.” 

He wishes you'd stop talking. It only makes him long for what you two used to be. It makes him think there's still a chance to rectify things. But you were far better off without him.

“How did you even get roped into this?” He tries to change the subject.

If someone was forcing you to do this, he'd put an end to their life. He'd make them pay for coercing you. 

Your answer was simple and right to the point.

“Money. Sadly I need to make a living in order to survive.”

He frowned at that. He was both your protector and provider when you were together. To know that you must've been struggling horribly enough to take such drastic measures…

It was decided. 

He'd court you, if only you'd let him.

“If you agreed to be mine once more, you would never want for anything. I'll keep you safe.” He offered.

“Such a romantic~ I think my heart is fluttering. But if I best you in combat, then what use will you be to me?” You cooed.

If you were stronger than him, then what would you need a protector for? The implications only rile him up. His own prideful grin making its way to his face.

“I intend to win. And I expect you not to hold back.”

You take a few steps towards him. Your face inches from his. He makes no move to back down. The feeling of your lips brushing against his in an attempt to fluster him, it makes him want.

“Maybe I want you to beat me.” You whispered.

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An: These were supposed to be drabbles 🧍‍♀️

anyways- Bon apatite

[genderfluid-insomniac]

Perhaps would it be possible to see some Macaque and Wukong X reader with a breeding kink? 👀separately or together, but I just would wanna see the interpretation of how you think theyd behave w breeding...

Breeding Kink with Macaque’s s/o + Wukong’s s/o

Macaque

Unlike Wukong for him it’s pretty much only possession with some wish of a family and having you as his mate and his alone. It’s something he never expected, with everything that’s gone wrong in his life he thought he’d never trust anyone ever again after his sworn brother killed him and then he found you. You both love each other with all your heart and many times after you told him about your breeding kink he would often ask you to be his cocksleeve.

Often whispering promises of you bearing his cubs and being the only one to warm his cock with your pretty hole. Macaque commenting on how your cubs would share both of your features like his many ears and your beautiful face, muttering in your ear how you’d be such a great parent to your children and how he’d keep breeding you even if you were pregnant or having kids another way.

Long story short, he’s going to behave but not without some teasing towards you.

Sun Wukong

The moment you say you have a breeding kink and say you want to experiment it with him he’s vibrating with excitement, maybe even kissing you right then and there with the intention of breeding you till you have his kids. He’s going to ask you beforehand if you have the stamina and endurance for more than two rounds because he’s never been more in love with you and eager to breed you for hours.

For him breeding you isn’t just about possession and you being his but it’s also emotionally attached. Wukong never had parents or siblings like him, he loves his other siblings dearly, and part of him yearns for a true family with you. He wanted more than anything than to have a family with his perfect loving mate and be able to protect and care for all of eternity.

Long story short, you’re going to have to make him behave because he’s going to be greedy and a bit of a brat.

[ryoalouette]

Machi's #12 DPxDC Idea

Dick shivered, Klarion had him against the wall and the sword. Quite literally. He had tie him up to a wall and now was threatening him with a sword.

"Relax," Klarion said. "I only want to talk."

"Funny way to show it," Dick quipped back.

"Oh? You mean this?" Klarion said swinging the sword. "Don't pay attention to it, is just a little failsafe in case things don't work as planned."

Dick narrowed his eyes, he was sure Klarion wasn't afraid of him or Batman so, what kind of creature could make him afraid? Dick needed to know more.

"What did you want to talk about anyway?"

Klarion swifter his feet, as if pondering what to say.

"Don't you ever get tired?" Klarion asked Dick surprising him.

"I mean, always in the same place, fighting the same fights, a never ending circle. It's so boring, so predictable. Wouldn't you like to fly away? To be able to see new places and meet new people?"

Dick thought about it, it was true that he was tired of being tied up to the same place. Back in his childhood he used to be constantly traveling, constantly moving. That ended when his parents died, Bruce had tried to help the itch by taking him on several expensive trips but it was not the same. He wanted to walk away without knowing where he would end up, enjoying the way more than the destiny itself. But he was fine, he was doing good, he was making the world a better place. His own comfort was secondary.

Klarion smiled, "that's what I thought."

Dick frowned, what were Klarion's intentions? But he didn't have time to ask. Klarion slapped something in his forefront as a portal opened.

"Klarion!" Yelled a feminine voice. "Time to pay up bitch!"

Klarion squawked and held his sword harder.

"He yearns for freedom! Take him!" He yelled as he pointed at Dick and took a step back. Dick gasped, so this was his plan! Not very original but very problematic for him.

Out of the portal came an old wrecked ship and from it fell a woman. She wore a mismatch of clothes from different time periods, several piercings on her pointed ears and a scarf tied up in her head. She also had long white hair and bright green eyes. Dick shivered as she smiled a too sharp smile.

"Not bad," she said getting closer to Dick. She turned to Klarion, "the payment is acceptable." Klarion let out a sigh of relief as she grabbed Dick's arm and pulled him up with her.

"Welcome abroad bitch, get ready to explore the realms and see what nobody has seen before. What nobody is supposed to see." Dick gulped as the boat traveled away through another portal

-

Bruce was desperate, it had been months since Dick had disappeared and they weren't any closer to find him than they were on day one. They had looked under every stone, every brick in the world and nothing. They had asked for favors from every person they knew, spent all the resources available to the justice league and even called for the green lanterns help. Nothing. Until Jason found a new book titled "kidnapped by the pirate queen" a romantic book about a rich boy that yearned for freedom and it was kidnapped by the pirate queen to travel the world and fell in love in the process. Coincidentally enough, it was written by one R.G.W. The batfam was divided if the clues were there or if it was a coincidence. Until the second book of the series came out, and then the third. With each new book it was more obvious that it was Dick writing the books, now only one question was, when they were going to meet their new sister in law?