#its a play on words for the word ‘selfish’
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Hear me out- VIP reader and Frontman In-ho
Reader goes up to In-ho and is all like “I’m bored, can you entertain me?” And bro goes “You shouldn’t be bored, and I’m not really on the table for entertainment, but I’ll see what I can do” then ensues actions n shit. Really most of this is dealers choice in everything that happens, I just want more VIP reader content <3333
Uhhh I love it!!! I hope I understood what you expected from this!
A better show
Fem reader VIP x Front man
Summary: You are looking for better entertainment than just shows where low-class people die.
Warning: Nothing explicit but some innuendo, flirting, some submission.
N/A: I've only written smut once in my life HAHAHA, I hope you like this.
Money buys happiness.
Or at least that's what everyone around you had told you for as long as could remember.
You were disgustingly rich and beautiful but few dared to approach you for fear of rejection or your bodyguards.
You wanted action so when they talked to you about financing some deadly games for entertainment you accepted, however, this was only your third year attending as a spectator and fell asleep during the second half hour, if it weren't for the wonderful liquor they served you would surely be snoring.
Once again, you were a spectator as the players played lut, you were bored but the only thing that made you come back every year to that place and wear a heavy gold-plated honey badger mask was to enjoy the presence of a certain masked man dressed in black.
There was something about him posture and voice that captivated you, you could even swear that from time to time he saw you too.
And you were right, In-ho looked at you sometimes, she was the only woman who was part of the VIPs and your bored expression throughout the show seemed intriguing to him.
All these men were disgusting and to him you were a beautiful flower growing in a pond of dirty water.
Even though he had never seen your face even once.
Although of course, you also had a certain selfish and classist character, you had only learned what you were taught since you were a little kid.
They both looked at each other and you, with a smile that showed your white teeth, snapped your fingers and gestured for him to come closer.
However, he sent one of his employees to which you quickly denied —No, you —You pointed the finger at him specifically and he had no choice but to obey you.
Maybe the alcohol was taking its toll on your system but this time you were feeling bolder than usual, just to be sure, you took one last big sip from your glass as he stopped next to you.
—¿Do you need anything? —he asked cautiously.
That deep voice and the scent of him perfume made you sigh and squeeze your legs together.
Yeah... you'd definitely had enough alcohol for tonight.
—I'm bored, ¿can you make this night more entertaining for me?
From the way you looked at him and the pout on your lips, In-ho immediately knew what you meant, but he decided to play with fire a little, nothing in this life is easy.
—¡Uh!... It seems our dear badger wants some honey —said the man with the lion mask using a playful and funny tone.
You ignored him, you were now too focused on getting what you wanted to get angry over a few rude words.
—I apologize if this bores you, but I'm in no position to entertain, I just maintain order and make sure the guests are happy.
From your posture he could tell that you didn't like that answer but he also knew that you wouldn't give up.
—I'm a guest and I'm not happy —You faked a smile—I'd be happy if you sat down with me, believe me, I'll make sure you don't get into trouble.
The silence in the room lasted a few seconds, In-ho felt the gaze of the other guests on you but that didn't stop him from continuing to challenge you.
—I repeat, the entertainment is not my responsibility, but if you agree, I will look for way to... satisfy you.
Front man walked to his podium and made some motions for someone to take charge while he took care of you.
After a few minutes he turned to you and extended his hand with chivalry and elegance.
—¿Would you like to accompany me to a more private place?
You smiled under the mask and took him gloved hand as you stood up.
—Gentlemen, I say goodbye for tonight, you guys keep enjoying the trivial spectacle.
You said calmly, despite the exotic environment you were in you still maintained your education and manners.
—¡Have fun! —the man in the buffalo mask exclaimed, followed by a loud laugh.
"They are idiots" you thought, letting yourself be guided by the handsome masked man.
You two took a few more steps until you reached a somewhat colorful room with a huge sofa in the center.
—After you —he said softly, giving a small bow and leaving a chaste kiss on the back of your hand.
You could only feel the cold material his mask was made of but you kept quiet, the simple act made your heart warm, it was ironic how you called him just for some fun but this man could make you shiver with a couple of non-sexual actions, it was just him.
Once you walked in and looked around at the bright colors you heard him close and lock the door, then you felt his presence behind you.
He very delicately placed his hands on your shoulders and pulled down your golden robe a little, revealing the bare skin of your neck, collarbone and shoulders.
In-ho paid attention to your breathing, that way he would know if he was doing it right or not, he took off one of his gloves to allow you to feel his skin touch you.
—¿Can you take off your mask? —You murmured curiously.
—I'm afraid that would be impossible, our identities are protected for security reasons.
You sighed and turned on your heels to stand in front of him, not allowing him to say or do anything you placed your own hands on golden mask and removed it revealing your face.
Once you dropped the mask to the ground In-ho remained silent, observing your features.
You were younger than he had thought, your eyes looked at him with desire but at the same time confidence and longed for affection, ¿how bad did your life have to be to look for affection in a stranger with a mask?
When you put your hands on his covered face and tried to remove the mask, he stopped you and walked away from you to the couch and grab a black cloth bandage.
—If you want me to take off the mask, you'll have to cover your eyes.
It wasn't a fair deal but you accepted it just because you were starting to get wet just from him attitude.
[...]
The soft sound of your breathing as he kissed the skin of your neck was the only thing that could be heard in the room, In-ho was sitting on the couch without his top clothes on, his lips leaving a trail of wet marks on your neck and his hands resting on your hip.
You felt so vulnerable and surrendered to him as you straddled him lap, naked and blindfolded.
You were used to having control over everything, giving orders and other things but this feeling of knowing that someone else could have control over you, could move you or manipulate you was new, it was exciting.
You let out a gasp as you felt the leader's fingers move closer to your core, teasing you a little.
—You're very anxious, ¿how long have you been waiting for this?
The mockery in his words made you shudder, you moved your hips against him searching for friction but he held you firmly with his other hand.
—Don't move —He whispered in your ear —You asked me to entertain you and that's what I'm going to do.
Seeing your red cheeks and your half-open mouth made In-ho feel his pants tighter than usual, yet he remained calm and continued playing with your center, enjoying the lewd sounds you gave him.
Their lips met in a hungry kiss and you finally had the chance to move your hands a little, which went from being on him chest to descending towards the belt of him pants.
With a few deft movements you got rid of him belt and pulled down his pants with a little effort.
He moaned lowly as he felt your hand caress him, if you could see him you would have seen the lust in his dark eyes and dilated pupils.
—I need you, now —You almost begged, it was pathetic how you begged for more from this man whose face you hadn't even seen.
—Ask me to give you what you want.
He still wanted to continue playing with you a little but he was also as eager as you so as soon as you said "Please" he lifted you up a little and positioned you so he could enter you without any effort because of how wet you were.
In-ho closed his eyes and a soft growl escaped his lips as he guided your movements on him, he would have loved to look into your eyes as you rode him like this but his identity was above that, or at least for now.
Besides, a certain part of him was also excited to be a secret from you.
With his free hand he grabbed your hair, made a small knot and tilted your head back to have access to your neck once again, while you increased the pace of your jumps he was in charge of leaving red marks on your skin.
When he felt you tense up he made you stop and without letting you go he turned you both around so that you ended up on the couch, this time he on top of you.
He began to thrust into you, at first it was slow, letting you feel every inch of him and then he was a little rougher, slowly increasing the speed and strength, your screams of pleasure were music to his ears, your nails scratching his back was another of his favorite sensations.
He placed your legs on his shoulders forcing you to take him completely which made you arch back and moan even louder.
—You are such a beautiful mess... —Lust and desire dripped from his words, he wasn't lying, having you like this under him and causing your screams was almost enough to make him finish inside you but he refrained from doing so, he wanted to keep taking you —You will be completely mine for this night.
He put one of his hands on your neck and squeezed lightly, cutting off your air flow and causing you to moan muffledly. The speed of his thrusts slowed down a little only to pick it up again and after a few seconds you reached your climax.
—¡Oh fuck! —You screamed as soon as you finished and your legs shook, however a soft squeal left your lips when you felt him hot sperm fill you.
It felt so good, this was definitely better than those crappy, boring games.
In-ho was breathing heavily and his face was completely red but he still didn't want to let you go, he had already tasted you and now he wanted more.
They both wanted to continue.
So you didn't refuse when he pulled out of you and made you get off the couch just to kneel in front of him.
—I have never knelt before any man —You said confidently and with an arrogant smile on the side.
—There's always a first time —He wrapped his hand in your hair and settled back with his legs spread on the couch —Now open that pretty little mouth.
You obeyed him without objection and when he could feel your warm mouth around his member it made him throw his head back with a moan.
It would be a long and entertaining night.
Now you can make sure you don't miss any year of these games and he'll be more than happy to give you that pleasure you longed for.
#hwang inho x reader#in ho x reader#in ho squidgame#squid game x reader#squid game#hwang in ho#squid game fic#frontamn x reader#lee byung hun#young-il x reader#front man x you#front man#in ho x you#squidgame x you
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content warnings : fem!reader, softdom!sam, praise, lack of shame, creampie, breeding kink, taking advantage, selfishness, 13.3k+ characters
The night was truly beautiful, with a clear sky dotted by stars. The moon shone brightly, casting a gentle glow across the graveyard stones. Each stone glimmered, appearing almost magical in the soft light. Earlier, rain had fallen, leaving the ground cool and fresh. Tiny droplets clung to the grass and leaves, sparkling like diamonds in the dim illumination.
You leaned against one of the sturdy trees, feeling its rough bark against your back. With a practiced motion, you pulled out the joint you had tucked away in your sweatshirt pocket. As you lit it, a small flame flickered, illuminating your face for a brief moment. Inhaling deeply, you felt the smoke fill your lungs, bringing a sense of calm. A soft smile crept onto your lips. For some, being in a graveyard might seem strange or even unsettling. But for you, it was comforting.
This place, though filled with tombstones and memories, felt safe. It was quiet and serene, empty of the noise and chaos of daily life, yet alive with the spirits of many who had once walked the earth. Each grave held stories, lives lived, and experiences that lingered in the air. As you enjoyed the moment, letting the smoke curl and drift away, a sudden noise caught your attention.
A sharp crack of wood echoed through the stillness, startling you. It was odd to hear anything at this hour. You turned your head sharply, scanning the shadows. Out of the corner of your eye, you thought you saw a figure. Your heart raced for a brief moment, but you shook your head, dismissing the thought. Perhaps it was just your imagination, playing tricks in the dark. With a deep breath, you refocused and continued to smoke, allowing the relaxing haze to wash over you once more. As you took another drag, the effects of the plant began to wash over you, pulling your senses into a haze. Suddenly, the figure you thought you glimpsed earlier became clearer, solidifying in front of you. It was none other than Sam Winchester, the younger brother of Dean, his familiar face bringing both confusion and surprise.
"Hello, beautiful," he greeted you with an inviting smile that seemed out of place in the dim light of the night. "What are you doing here at this hour?" His voice held a playful tone. You blinked, your eyes heavy and bloodshot from the high, struggling to focus on his features. "I'm smoking, can't you see?" you replied, a hint of irritation creeping into your voice. Sam stepped closer, towering over you, his presence both comforting and daunting. As he looked into your eyes, you felt a strange tension swirling in the air. There was something in the depths of his gaze that warned you to run, to get away as fast as possible. But your body felt rooted to the spot, weighed down by the intoxicating buzz coursing through you and the rapid beating of your heart. "What do you want, Sam?" you asked, forcing the words out, your mind tangled in a fog that made it hard to think clearly. "I just wanted to see you, away from Dean. Just us," he replied, a hint of sincerity lacing his voice. The way he said it left you uncertain, caught between a feeling of curiosity and a sense of caution.
"Just us huh? " you repeat taking another long drag from your joint. The smoke fills your lungs and you exhale slowly letting it drift into the cool night air. Your voice emerges huskier than you intended perhaps due to the lingering haze of smoke or maybe from the intensity of Sam's gaze which seems to pierce right through you in the silvery moonlight. "Here in a graveyard? " Sam chuckles softly a warm sound that contrasts with the eerie surroundings. He shrugs a casual gesture that belies the weight of the moment. "Seems appropriate doesn't it? A beautiful girl the moonlight casting its glow and whispers of eternity all around us... " His tone shifts becoming more intimate as he leans in closer his breath mingling with the night air. "Besides who wouldn't want a private moment with a captivating vision like you? " You furrow your brow slightly at his smooth words a flicker of amusement dancing in your glazed eyes. "Private moment? With the Winchester brothers infamous for interrupting each other's everything? " You take another drag savoring the taste then blow out a stream of smoke that curls teasingly between you. You shifted slightly against the tree, trying to steady yourself as Sam’s presence filled the space around you. His expression was soft, yet there was an intensity in his eyes that made your heart skip a beat. Here, between the silent stones and the whispering night, the world outside seemed to fade away.
"You always did know how to find the most interesting places," he murmured, his voice a gentle rumble that matched the distant rustle of leaves. Sam's gaze lingered on your face, tracing the curve of your lips, the outline of your features in the moonlight. You felt warmth spread through you, curling like the smoke from the joint between your fingers. The cool night air mixed with the warmth of his nearness, creating an exhilarating mix that left you with a slight shiver. "And here I thought I’d have the night to myself,” you replied, a teasing lilt in your voice, trying to mask the flutter of nerves and excitement he stirred within you.Sam's smile widened, a subtle acknowledgment of the tension that crackled like static electricity between you. He moved closer, his movements slow and measured, respecting the space but closing the distance with a magnetic pull that was hard to resist. "I couldn't resist the chance to get you alone," he said, his tone holding a promise that sent a delicious thrill through you. Your heart raced, a shared understanding passing silently in the space between you. The night's chill seemed to intensify every sensation—the rough bark against your back, the cool breeze on your skin, the heat from Sam's body as he drew nearer. Every heartbeat echoed loudly in the quiet, mingling with the whispered secrets of the graveyard.With a slow, deliberate motion, Sam reached out, brushing a gentle thumb across your cheek, his touch soft yet electrifying. "Why here, though?" he asked, curiosity mingling with the warmth in his voice as he searched your eyes.
You took a moment to gather your thoughts, your mind a haze of emotions and sensations. "It's peaceful," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "Away from everything... it's just... quiet." He nodded, understanding, and his hand lingered, a comforting presence. “I get that,” he said softly, his eyes never leaving yours. “Sometimes, you need a place to just breathe.” As you lingered in the shared silence, the air between you thickened with unspoken words and desires. Sam’s gaze flicked down to your lips, and an urge surged within you—an overwhelming need to close the space that separated you both. “Sam…” you breathed, the name escaping your lips like a plea. You reached up, your fingers brushing against his jaw, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your touch. He leaned into your palm, his eyes darkening as the warmth of the moment enveloped you both. With a gentle tug, you pulled him closer, drawn by an invisible thread that seemed to bind you together. The moment hung between you, electric and alive, and you could feel the world around you fade into a blur. The graveyard, once a comforting refuge, now felt like a secret sanctuary for the heat swelling between you. Without a word, Sam closed the gap, his lips capturing yours in a soft yet urgent kiss. It was tentative at first—a brush of warmth that sent waves of desire coursing through you. You responded instinctively, deepening the kiss, allowing the warmth of him to seep into your very core. The taste of him was intoxicating, a mix of smoke and something distinctly Sam, as if he were a part of the night itself. His hands found your waist, drawing you closer until there was no space left between you. You melted against him, pushing back against the rough bark of the tree, feeling alive as his body pressed against yours. His fingers traveled along your sides, igniting every nerve in their wake, a silent declaration of the passion simmering just below the surface. With a slight tilt of your head, you deepened the kiss further, your hands tangling in his hair as you lost yourself in the moment. Sam responded, his hands moving to cradle your face, holding you delicately as if you were something precious and fragile. Breathless, you pulled away just enough to catch your breath, your foreheads resting against each other. “We shouldn't…” you whispered, though the words felt hollow against the burning desire building within you. “Why not?” Sam murmured, his voice low and coaxing. “This feels right. You feel right.” His gaze was fierce, and any hesitation dissolved beneath the weight of his longing. You could see the desire swirling in his eyes, a reflection of your own need. Despite the surroundings, the world faded away, leaving just the two of you. Every heartbeat felt like a step deeper into something uncharted, something thrilling. With a soft push, you tilted your head back, exposing your neck to him. Sam’s lips found their way to your skin, trailing hot kisses along your collarbone, igniting sparks that danced across your body. You gasped, a shiver running down your spine as you surrendered to the sensations, losing yourself in the intimacy of the moment.
“God, you’re beautiful,” he murmured against your skin, the soft warmth of his breath sending another wave of heat through you. Encouraged, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer, each kiss igniting the night around you. In that magical, moonlit graveyard, nothing else mattered except the two of you, the heat of your bodies, and the quiet urgency of the moment unfolding between spirited breaths and whispered promises. As they continue to explore each other, Sam's hands slide up your sides, gently cupping your breasts. His thumbs brush over your nipples, already hard from the chill in the air and the heat of their passion. You arch into his touch, a low moan escaping your lips. Feeling your reaction, Sam's mouth finds one of your nipples, sucking it between his lips while teasing the other with his fingers. His tongue swirls around the hard peak, causing you to tremble. A shudder rolls down your spine as he alternates between them, his hot breath fanning your skin. The sensation is intense, and the pleasure is overwhelming. Sam's hand slides lower, seeking the hem of your shirt. With deft fingers, he lifts it just enough to reveal your bare stomach, then resumes his exploration of your breasts. The cold night air brushes against your exposed flesh, heightening the contrast with the warmth of his lips and hands. Meanwhile, your own hands wander, finding the bulge in his pants. With eager fingers, you fumble with the buttons, freeing his hardened length. It springs free, pulsating under your touch. A low growl rumbles through Sam's throat as he bites down gently on your nipple, his grip on you tightening. You stroke him, feeling the veins and the slickness of pre-cum. As you continue, Sam's kisses trail down your body, leaving a fiery path that seems to echo the flames within you. He reaches your navel and hooks his thumbs into the waistband of your pants, easing them down over your hips. Exposed, you feel vulnerable, yet utterly alive as his fingers graze your wetness, making you quiver. He slips one digit inside, coating it with your arousal before adding another. Your back arches as he fills you, his fingers stretching you in preparation for him.
The sensation is exquisite, the cool night air a stark contrast to the heat building within you. Sam's lips find yours again, kissing you deeply as he pulls his fingers out and aligns himself with your entrance. "Are you ready?" he breathes, his voice thick with wanton need. You nod, unable to speak, your heart pounding as he guides himself into you. The initial stretch is intense, but Sam moves slowly, giving you time to adjust. Once fully enveloped, he pulls back slightly before thrusting forward, burying himself to the hilt. A sharp gasp escapes your lips at the fullness, pleasure mingling with pain. "Fuck," Sam whispers, his own breath hitched. He pulls out and thrusts back in, the rhythm of their movements picking up as they both fall deeper into desire. Sam's hips grind against yours, the sound of flesh meeting flesh filling the silence of the graveyard. His mouth finds your neck, nipping and sucking as you cling to him, your body rocking with each powerful thrust. You moan, the night air filled with the symphony of their lust, as the pleasure builds within you.
He's relentless, each thrust sending shockwaves through your body until, suddenly, you're on the edge. You cry out, your orgasm ripping through you like a tidal wave, leaving you weak and trembling. The sight of your release pushes Sam over the edge, and he growls, his own climax surging through him. Hot and intense, he spills himself deep within you before collapsing onto you, both of them panting. For a moment, the two of you lay there, intertwined and spent. The world around them fades into insignificance, replaced by the warmth of each other's embrace. This fleeting moment of ecstasy becomes a sanctuary in the midst of a graveyard, the epitome of life and passion amidst the tranquil reminder of mortality.
#spn#sam winchester x reader#jared padalecki#sam winchester#supernatural#sam winchester smut#smut#spn fanfic#spn smut#fem!reader#writers on tumblr#writing#writerscommunity
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Ghost Story
BTAA Scarecrow x Reader
Summary: After a drug deal, you two watch A Christmas Carol (and make out)
Word Count: 1.4k
A/N: Enjoy this late as BALLS Christmas post 😭😭 Merry LATE Christmas @tr4sh-pl4nt I was ur secret Santa (nobody is surprised)
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Despite the cloudy skies and flurries of snow, a soft reflection of the frost outside streams a bit of light into the office as you pull back the blinds. The sidewalks and alleys are empty- nary a car on the street. If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve thought you were in Silent Hill rather than Gotham City. There’s nothing but grey, blistery, snowy solitude. This was good. With nobody around, this was sure to be an easy buy.
“Something on your mind?” He pipes up.
Snapping the shade back into place, you look back to see that he’s found the stash. In a small, plastic bag, the pills are on the desk. “No, I’m all good.”
He clicks his tongue with a wry grin. “If it’s the cops you’re worried about, don’t be. There’s gonna be a huge storm tonight- I doubt the pigs would leave the barn; freezing their butts off to go after a low-life like you.”
“Low-life? Look who’s talking,” You glare, making your way over to the desk. “Scarecrow.”
As your hand goes to reach for the pills, his thin fingers come into view, sliding the bag back.
“You fuck. I already payed.” Your eyes stare daggers into his clinical gaze. There’s a knowing smirk on his face and you brace yourself for whatever psychological games he decides to play with you now.
“Look,” he slides the bag off the desk and in between his slender fingers, as if dangling it just out of reach. “I’m not dumb enough to mess with a tweaker and their drugs, but humor me for a moment, won’t you?”
“You have five seconds to give me my-”
“Have you ever seen A Christmas Carol?” He’s completely unfazed by the threat, pulling out a DVD copy of the film.
“What?” Any aggression from within you begins to dissipate, turning into utter bewilderment.
“A Christmas Carol,” he repeats. “Y’know, a grizzled, selfish old miser who is haunted by three spirits who represent the ever-changing stages of his life? How each journey into his past, present, and future make him reevaluate the way he lives his life and treats others and learns the true meaning of Christmas?”
“Yeah, I know, I know.”
“Well forget it.” He slides the DVD into the video player, watching it click into place. “Sure, it’s a classic holiday tale, but it’s so much more than that.” He springs up, flicking off the lights. “It’s a horror story.”
The blue glow from the old television illuminated the office as it came to life with some static and a startling pop. You began to wonder how old that damn thing was until you found yourself standing alone with Crane on the empty couch. Although the room was dark, you could feel Dr. Crane’s piercing gaze beckoning you over. Hesitantly, you sit on the other end of the couch.
As the film begins, the Disney logo catches your eye. “Horror story my ass…” you mutter.
“What was that?” He quips, wondering how he heard you.
“Horror story my ASS.” You annunciate clearly. Shifting in your seat you turn to him. “A Disney movie? You refuse to give me my shit for this?” You laugh bitterly.
“Oh,” he chuckles darkly. “You really don’t have any idea of what we’re about to get into, do you?”
“What the fuck on God’s green earth are you talking about?”
“Scoff all you want,” he grins, turning down the volume. “This version of the film truly captures the true essence of fear better than its other iterations. Narratively speaking, the film remains pretty faithful to the original novella by Charles Dickens, which obviously is something to be expected from any adaptation, but it’s especially crucial here to really showcase the specific fears of the time.”
“Well yeah it might be accurate, but doesn’t everyone collectively agree that this one sucks?” You reply. “I mean, look at the creepy ass mocap, it’s literally the same shit as the Polar Express-”
“Oh right!” He shifts excitedly. “The visuals only contribute to terror! Sure, motion capture gets a bad rap because it’s a little off-putting, but it really works in a film like this- perfectly seasoned with that uncanny valley effect. It really adds to the flavor of dread.”
“Whatever man,” you scoff. “It’s just some story about an old man.” You turn your attention back to the movie, straining to listen to the low volume despite Jonathan’s chatter.
He clears his throat. “An old man- who you may find, has far similar fears to you than you may think.”
You cock your head to the side, turning to him. “You callin’ me an old man?”
The sound of his laughter fills your ears. “Oh no, not at all.” He wipes a tear from his eye. “It’s just so painfully human.”
“Human?”
“Scrooge isn’t taught redemption, he’s simply being driven by fear.” He leans back on the couch. “The ghosts don’t just visit him to bring awareness to his cold heart, but they dismantle him- tearing away layers and layers of his psyche until there’s nothing left but his raw fear. It’s fascinating, really. How the fear completely reshapes his attitude in the waking world.”
You find yourself leaning back as he moves his way closer to you, only to be caught by the end of the couch.
“And you wanna know what the real scary thing is? It’s the fact that we could all end up just like him- Alone. Forgotten. Unloved. It’s a common fear that drives us all, isn’t it? The fear of abandonment? Being left behind.” You can feel the heat radiating from his body with every word spoken.
You blink, at a loss for words. It’s starting to feel all too real. “I,” you stutter. “I’m not sure what this has to do with me.”
“Oh, but it has everything to do with you.” His voice is low, as you feel yourself be closed in. “That invisibility,” he lets the words linger on his tongue. “Something that most people prefer to ignore, but it’s still there isn’t it? Lurking.”
His eyes stare within the confines of your soul. You look away from his prying eyes, but you can still feel his gaze on you like a searchlight.
You can feel your chin between his fingers as he gently forces you to look at him. “I think this little arrangement we have- these little meetings, it’s more than just a drug deal isn’t it? I think you want more than just drugs.”
Suddenly the office didn’t feel so chilly anymore. The closeness of his breath on the shell of your ear made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. He’s right. You do want more.
Your hands slide up his long arms, feeling the fabric of his shirt beneath your palms. Resting your fingers on his shoulders, you pull him closer. You speak up, words barely a whisper. “So, you gonna give me my drugs or not?”
“I’d thought you’d never ask.” A knowing grin graces his silhouetted frame.
Pulling the bag from his pocket, he opens the seal, taking out a small, ghost-shaped tablet and places it on his tongue. At first you were confused as to why he was breaking into your stash until you felt the harsh press of his lips against yours.
Pulling him closer into you, you allow your hands to slip under his shirt, feeling his flesh on your fingertips. In turn, he runs his hand through your hair while the other snakes its way down your spine, cradling the small of your back. His grip is firm, fingers digging into you, showing no sign of letting go.
Quickly, he nips at your lower lip. As you whine at sting, you fall victim to his plan when he slips his tongue into your mouth. You can feel him transfer the tablet to you, swallowing it down with his guidance. In retaliation, you sink your nails into the skin of his back, feeling him hiss into the kiss as he pulls away with a chuckle.
Breathless from the kiss, he wraps an arm around you. “Maybe this will help you understand Scrooge’s fear.” He grabs the remote, adjusting the film’s volume back to normal.
At this point you could give less of a shit about the movie. You allow yourself to fall into Jonathan’s side. You’re not sure if it’s from the pill or the kiss as you let yourself be overtaken by the waves of euphoria and adrenaline.
#btaa scarecrow#btaa scarecrow x reader#jonathan crane x reader#jonathan crane x you#jonathan crane smut#scarecrow x reader#batman the audio adventures#batman rogues x reader#jonathan crane#batman rogues smut#mia writes batman!!!
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Sometimes I wonder about worms. Like where the fuck do they come from. You can dig and find them but it isn't like there are tunnels, they are just there, snails pace serpentine through the dirt and granules. At a depth shallow enough the dirt above doesn't crush them, yet deep enough you gotta dig a bit to really find them down there.
Just squirming and waiting to get hooked in some fish on a time waxing off the full moon.
#yeah I had thought abouts wanting to play woth your hair as I laid in bed after convincing you to try smoking...for the ballet#I'm like a meme#the world is a madhouse#I wish I could be happy with manisfestos of captial reigns of empires read in game format for his own mentality going forward for a time#no it's all i obsession over my power (kinda)....(more than kinda) but not in a selfish way which is hard to explain but true#the stakes are high and the valley is low#in the valley I slow...in the valley I growing#but an eternity for me is no time for you#some greater part of me understands the greater part of me though#put on a pedestal of willing enslavement#nah you were so hot... first thought....wonder when she'll finally work her way over....a couple dudes are like looking#trying to get the fresh set off#oh no the hot broke 18 year old that's the one#wow this is way more intimate than I was expecting#if it wasn't you I would have been like its cool you ain't gotta get on me like that#dance duh okay george#gorgeous is a word I have used to describe you.....this is truth#years ago before I knew I knew you a bunch of times already#telling her to call you trying to temper the Want in my voice#but....for it to work out she has to be cool. we all have to be cool#amd hot as fuck for each other#all deep and particularl#calculus#but even my 99 was dope because in chinese he was like you fogot +c#one time I missed a quiz but he was cool about it#I would like to lament I never got a reply to the email I sent him later#yes please be my super sweaty workout partner and then I get salt licks#they're soooo good#it's like shhhh#let me enjoy your honey musk
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scar should play animal crossing
#i just think hed like it (lying)#(its actually because i like animal crossing and i am selfish and greedy so i want him to play the game purely for my own enjoyement alone)#(lying again)#(i do actually think hed like it also)#sandwiched words#goodtimeswithscar
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sugar daddy au has me distraught b/c this trope is not usually my thing but im OBSSESSED with ur fic… literally reading the existing chapters over and over to hold myself over til the next one. i think its how u write their dynamic that just has a death grip on me like its so good
Believe me when I tell you that it's not usually my thing either. Like, AUs, meh, never been big on them but, like you said, it's the dynamic it's just so palpable like sink your teeth in and thrash around for hours...
I'm glad it's re-readable! That's nice to hear because I think once you (the audience) read Chapter 8, you might wanna go back and re-read Chapter 6...
Sooo.. 23.7k words. September 21, 4pm EST. (Sorry it's running late, but I think it will be worth the wait.)
Thanks for being an active reader! I give you this offering, ahead of time:
#sugar daddy au#dennis reynolds#cos the playlist thats why im tagging him cos i tried to make it very accurate..#but it is his sex playlist in this chapter 8#and the order of the playlist is very intentional. the length of the playlist is EXACT. know that...#also yes im being a little selfish giving you a date time for the update#but i want to be available when ppl are reading#bc i want you guys to COME TALK TO ME#pleaSE#theres. so much. in here#like so much... you could write me an entire play by play on your thoughts#theres. so fuckin much#again like yeah this is an au but goddamn if this isnt a deep dennis headdive#also Mac is just. very good from dennis' perspective#im gonna miss it...#which thats why its 23k words cos. i get two chapters in dennis' shoes im gonna TAKE EM.#ik whoever is still reading this is like christ you can type all this but you cant update the fuckin fic#soooooo true#do you want a spoiler or something#theres more baseball...#thats not a good spoiler?#cockwarming is being added to the fic tags#there ya go#night night... see everyone tomorrow
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Mmm I might have to cut back on how much work I put into the fact blog. I get so many asks a day that I’m literally putting more hours work into it than school stuff and free time and I think that’s a problem actually
#dont get me wrong i like it but like.#yeah#I haven’t been able to tier on any events recently and i havent touched a console game in well over a month#im so burnt out from school that i dont really care about that part but i want to play video games#kinda selfish but also i keep getting asks for long writing pieces and im writing 1000s of words PER DAY atm#its tiring#oh why couldnt it still have 100< followers
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ok since tears of the kingdom is coming out like. insanely soon i figured i’ll just dump how i’ve been feeling abt it here. i wont tag for them and i dont intend to share any but because i have been actively seeking out spoilers i will vaguely reference them here so… idk really long musings on this game and my feelings abt it
(im just writing this out mostly for myself since i really kind of just. want to really figure out how i feel about this)
i… am not excited for totk?
i’ve figured out a bit ago that my severely waning interest in botw and general anxiety and discontent surrounding totk is just that… these games arent for me. i dont enjoy open world games with half a million things for you to do like it’s basically a sandbox. i struggle to really enjoy singleplayer minecraft. the space stage in spore gives me genuine anxiety, both when i played it as a kid and again when i reached it as an adult.
botw and totk are not games for me, and that’s cool. i’ve figured that out.
so why am i getting so damn anxious about this new game?
i am getting totk- not entirely of my own volition, i live with someone who is very genuinely excited for it, so it’s pre-ordered digitally on our switch. i am going to play it and complete it at least once.
the gameplay and world of botw never really got to me, and even what snippets of gameplay i see for totk dont really entice me. it just makes me anxious to think about the sheer amount of new stuff i’ll be dropped in the middle of and how i really dont care about this version of link or zelda or anyone else in botw’s hyrule
and some of the story spoiler stuff and general direction this game is going in has me just worried that the zelda series is moving away from what it used to be into an entirely new direction, that being a direction that it seems like i wont enjoy as much as everyone else seems to
so then i guess my main worry outside of totk is that i just end up struggling to really feel connected to the rest of the community about this? being a contrarian is fun until everyone is enjoying something you for some reason can’t get yourself to
i dont have a lot of hope in the story of totk to harken back to… ANYTHING of worth that past games have built up and made to be so important and interesting. hype is a dangerous thing for a not-yet-released game, and while i think the insane amount of speculation and theories and hype around totk will cause a lot of people to be disappointed with the final story, i dunno if i really wouldve liked it even if the story actually piqued my interest
maybe totk’s gameplay will really hook me. maybe i’ll enjoy the massive open world and gmod-ass gimmicks. but what ive seen of the story makes me less interested and the snippets of gameplay i see just make me remember how bored i now am with botw
at the end of the day this is just a video game with tags on this site i can blacklist and videos i can ignore and lore i can brush aside because at this point loz canon is a suggestion more than anything
i just cant shake the discomfort of once again being an outlier as everyone i see loses their mind about this new game while i just feel overwhelmed by it. i have played botw for a long time and have long since worn it out. i played age of calamity to completion and have not touched it or cared for it beyond the music since. i am not excited about totk and i feel like i am in the wrong due to my opinion
#salty talks#kinda personal? just angsting abt totk and being a lil negative abt it#at this point im not expecting it to blow me away. i no longer have fun playing botw. i do not care for the story or characters#this if anything is to soothe my nerves and is for the sake of my own wellbeing to articulate how i feel about this#it is cool to like. put your feelings into words. this is a lot more eloquent than ‘i miss linebeck’#it feels kinda selfish to bitch abt a game thats not out yet and complain abt it not seeming enjoyable to me#but it looks like a genuinely good game. but its not for me. and thats what im ruminating on here#like i love linear stories games that limit you and fun little gimmicks and characters with complex arcs and all that#i played a little bit of skyward sword earlier and was finishing up the cistern dungeon and was so delighted to see the main statue lowered#i love the dungeons with gimmicks that flip everything around and force you to really think abour your next move#im excited to reach the water temple in oot again to swim around and tinker with the water level#i cant wait to finish oot and move onto mm and its wonderful gameplay and areas#id love to revisit albw and get back to playing ph (and maybe finishing triforce heroes idk abt that one i just want the linebeck outfit)#i played botw for like ten minutes a few weeks ago and then put it away without a second thought#so. if anyone wanted to know how i feel abt totk. its a bit alienating#i might blacklist every variation of ze/ink tbh. sayonara you weeaboo shits and your bland fucking milquetoast ship thats kinda irritating#i may delete this bc it errs on the side of being too personal but i really just need to write this stuff downh#anyways. going back to writing my thing abt my oc n linebeck hanging out and being gay
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do elaborate on ness & kurona…..
the '''red''' sidekick (ik ness is purple, but it like, inches towards red, it's a reddish purple)
both play supporting roles and don't try to score for themselves
no eyebrows lol this one's a joke
very devoted to their respective partner (kaiser / isagi) at the expense of making their own goals (and a lot of charas' ego revolves around that n stuff)
starting to be a bit delusional here but i do think its possible their egos awaken at the same time, maybe not Bc of each other but it certainly could mirror (or they do see a reflection of themself in the other since their current role is to be support, they realise u need individualism to be an egoist or something like that
and then u get an interesting contrast where even tho they have similar roles, for a lack of better words, ness is unhinged and kurona is just trying to help
i think ness would hate seeing kurona is like him, even tho he's the same (bc they're the same)
i can also see ness taking his anger out on the person most important to isagi in this arc, the other half of his planet hotline, bc i believe in him getting worse (positive) (not the word im looking for but kaiser is... fair?? to an extent, like he'll acknowledge that his opponent is skilled, but ness? he won't agree no matter how hard u squeeze his headー tl;dr i can see him doing underhanded... things)
i consider any ship with my fav
i like their height difference, even tho we dunno what their heights are we can use my Isagi Yoichi Height Ruler™️ aka kurona's shorter than isagi, so ofc he's gonna be shorter than ness
i like the idea of ness bullying him, bc i like seeing my fav get bullied and also ness is like that, but at the same time i dont think kurona would take that sitting down so i also want to see him bite back, i want them to figuratively bite each other and fist fight
tl;dr i think they (can) mirror each other, if only they'd talk to each other 😔
this got so long i dont even know what i wrote , there might be other stuff i forgor about , it is what it is but i just think they could have an interesting dynamic mostly and i like any ship out of these four like i mentioned in my tags
also warning there's SO many tags on this one oh my god
#i dont know how to words as usual#theres just....theres just stuff you can do here and i can see it#id be the clown of this story if im way off and kurona never actually gets anything hahahahaha(negative#jk about being way off. who knows whats going to happen#im srs about kurona never getting any spotlight im like. legitimately worried about that but thats another thing#his role.... from a meta perspective.......... anyways#also#i would say kurona is selfless vs ness is selfish (as in his devotion to kaiser is to make Himself feel better#self inflicted dependency? i still dunno how to word this) but u could argue that kurona is only following isagi to be able to play HOWEVER#for the sake of playing i'll follow you) during the match it became real and it wasnt just about being able to play anymore#oops tangent that's a differnet pair(#ness/kurona mirror as a result of kaiser/isagi is entirely possible#i want to make it clear i dont ship them bc theyre 'leftovers' from kaiser/isagi. thinking about it like that makes me sad.#or mildly annoyed but not to a serious extent#its one of those things where if they were shipped bc they happened to be alone bc kaiser/isagi already exists then. i dont want that#anyway#i actually started writing a short fic about them where ness is just terrible#idk if i can get very far bc i usually have the most motivation writing for my otp#mailbox
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some important calvin and hobbes facts in case you haven't read the original comic strip in a long time or only absorbed stuff on it from memes and out of context bits on here:
Calvin's last name has never been given, and neither has any of his parent's names. This was actually why his uncle Max only showed up for a brief storyline; the creator of the comic, Bill Watterson, ultimately felt that while it was fine to have him as someone for his parents to talk to, it felt far too awkward to never have Max refer to them by name and he never made a return appearance.
The general tone of the comic is fairly light-hearted, with a big emphasis on goofy slapstick comedy contrasted by clever wordplay and often surprising adult-centered jokes that'll hit you like a slap. A big part of the comedy is, as Watterson put it (paraphrased) "It's really funny to me when people express deeply stupid ideas with really fancy terminology." One notable example you might have seen is that one bit where Calvin asks his mom for money to buy a Satan-worshiping rock album and his mom replies that there's nothing genuine about them and they're just putting on the attitude for shock value, and comisserates with Calvin as he deplores that mainstream nihilism can't be trusted. He concludes that childhood is disillusioning.
There is a LOT of criticism of the extreme materialism and selfish mentality of the late 80s, when the comic was initially written. This may go a long way to explain how its aged so well; much of what it criticizes resonates well with people today.
Bill Watterson views comic strips a legitimate form of artwork, and repeatedly fought to have more space to draw more beautiful and artistic backgrounds, which was a very hard fight and unpopular even with other comic strip artists. He eventually did win some compromises and a lot of Calvin And Hobbes' artwork shows it, with the use of space to indicate time as well as a sharp contrast between the often plain environments of mundane life contrasted by the wildly beautiful imagery of Calvin's imagination (which often sports realistic depictions in an art shift of sorts).
Hobbes is explicitly not an imaginary friend, by word of Watterson himself. We don't know WHAT he is exactly, and Hobbes is apparently unaware of the strange nature of his reality; people look at him and only see an ordinary stuffed tiger plushie, but he has a tangible effect on the world that would be physically impossible for Calvin to do on his own. He's apparently been around for a while, and was apparently around when Calvin was a young baby.
On that note; Hobbes has implicitly killed (notably treated as both a gag and also with the vibe of 'he's a tiger, duh') and while he doesn't do it again on-screen, he doesn't have any moral issues about it. Calvin claims that he's never had trouble bringing Hobbes to school because the last time he did, Hobbes killed and ate a bully named Tommy Chestnut and simply comments that it was gross and he needed a bath. Calvin's tried to repeat this again, but Hobbes was grossed out at the thought having to eat a kid raw and not being allowed to use an oven first, or complaining that children are too fattening.
Hobbes became gradually less human-like in body language and more like an actual cat in both body language and behavior; this was due to Watterson drawing more inspiration from his cat, who also inspired a lot of Hobbes' running gags, such as pouncing on Calvin when he got home. Several years into the syndication of the strip, Watterson's cat passed away, and he did a tribute to her with a comic strip of the two of them agreeing to try to dream together so they can keep playing when they have to sleep; Watterson's commentary (if I recall right), remarks on his cat: "We can see each other again in dreams."
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Can I just be honest and say I hate how much people are willing to abandon family? I don't mean going no contact with abusers I mean how i see people say I'm not gonna help my sister pack that's not my problem, I'm not gonna help my mom she shouldn't have had three kids if she couldn't handle it.
Like wtf that's your family you should help you should take care of each other. The way family doesn't matter to people kind of disgusts me tbh
#and i do mean these as personal examples in my own family and my friends family#and something i see a lot#i knew a guy who said his mom was an alcoholic and abusive by parentifying him because she made him watch his little brother twice a month#so she could go out to get drinks with her friends#AND THOSE ARE HIS WORDS#im not trying to down play it he literally said that is the only time she would drink#hos mom was an angel and he was a selfish pos#support your family#i dont owe you anything? what selfish disgusting way to view someone who raised you#again its different with abuse#but stop using excuses to be a selfish and bad person
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OH "ANONYMOUS SOURCE" FUCK OFFFFFFF I KNOW THATS FUCKING TYLER
#YEAH SURE NICE TRY DISTORTING THE VOICE PITCH ALTERING IT. I KNOW HIS SMUG FUCKING VOICE WHEN I HEAR IT. ASSHOLE#ari opinion hour#ive heard that bastards voice enough to know what he fuckin sounds like you CANNOT trick me like that#its the way he said 'itself' that tipped me off like i know what that selfish bitch sounds like when he says the word self at the end of a#fucking sentence#sorry im a tyler hater at my core fuck that guy#fine he got better and more likeable by like that one with mina anwar as somebodys mom but like. GOD#(somebody elses mom not ranis she was not playing gita. it was somebody else)#the witching tree#rani takes on the world
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i hate having to put on my talking to middle aged middle class white people voice
#i say as a white person#like fr#it's so fucking fake#i hate that shit#like i gotta word things in ways that are non-offensive to them#when in actuality i just want to tell them not to be privileged self-important assholes#like you have to explain racism and genocide to them in their language to get them to do what you want (aka bare minimum of human decency)#and its gross af#because you have to play bullshit respectability politics#but that's what fucking white privilege is#so im gonna do it because i can and someone has to#but its gross and i hate it#i hate this genre of white people so much#i hate that i have to do it#and i hate that there are so many fucking shitty privileged selfish white people who get butthurt over anyone pointing out that our society#is set up to maintain their (and my) white privilege and oppress everyone else#ugh#ignore me im just venting#i had to do so much of this yesterday#and it's gross#i hate talking to white people fr#personal
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࣪𖤐๋࣭ — JOCK BF!YUUJI ENTRY #10. babies, lots of ‘em.
about. the all star jock has an intense breeding kink that leads him to confess the plans he has for he and his weird girlfriend’s future. ( 2.5K )
warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! nsfw, smut, angst if you squint, characters aged up to 20s, breeding kink, unprotected sex, cum play, praise, jock bf!yuuji, weird girl + fem!reader - the brain rot continues !! inspired by @kweenkatsuki-fics recent yuuji thirsting hehe <3
“‘mma give you babies… lots of ‘em,” yuuji slurs, his hips ramming into yours at a bruising, unprecedented pace.
beneath your shaky fingertips, the muscles of your boyfriend’s back ripple with his movements — his strength as he uses the headboard for leverage to fuck into your sloppy, sweltering heat of your sex. you’re flat on your back, his heavy and weighty body hanging over yours protectively while itadori traps you between the blazing heat in his chest and the sweaty bed sheets below. whenever yuuji gets in the mood like this, possessive and hungry for you ( and nobody else but you ), in the mood to keep you all to himself — you can’t help but succumb to each one of his touches and wet kisses.
you can’t help the way your body trembles in the cage of his muscular arms while his abs ripple against your tummy and his pelvis tacks deliciously to your swollen clit. the bed creaks beneath the sloppy affair of your grinding bodies and somehow, within the mess of sex and love, your freehands link and squeeze to ground one another. “the way you’re suckin’ me in, god, honey,” yuuji coos, his words tickle the shell of your ear delicately, contrasting with the carnivorous way his deep brown eyes drink you in when he pulls back slightly to look at you, silver chain and dog tags dangling above your hot face, as if he’s picturing you nice and full of him and his seed. “so selfish, you don’t wanna let me pull out. you want this cum…yeah?”
in that moment, you think you might cum, all because of the breathy whimpers from your lover that ghost over your dampened cupid’s bow ( wet from kisses ) — accompanied by the sensation of his hard-on bullying its way into your tight, quivering little hole. there’s a keen smile that spreads across yuuji’s plush lips when you nod your head ‘yes’ in response, you feel his excitement and desire for you deepen when the entire length of him twitches inside of you — pulsating as small spurts of precum begin to line your lewdly squelching walls.
“i knew you would, you’re such a good girl…and you’re all mine, how lucky am i? that you’re all. fucking. mine.” for a boy so sweet and gentlemanly outside of the bedroom, itadori is always sure to fuck you nasty and raw whilst making you feel like the most adored person on the planet. yuuji’s sailor-mouth-like praises are slurred and sinful, a tale tale sign that he’s already pussy drunk as he sheaths inch after inch within you. you can hardly blame him, not when your body adjusts to yuuji so perfectly — silken pussy stretching over the blue spiralling veins on his heavy cock. “mine to love, mine to fuck, mine to breed.” he tells you through seraphic gripes too.
“ohmygod!” you squeal, voice ringing hoarsely in your throat. your cunt spills honey molasses and sweet nectar against your ravaged sexes, juices intertwining with the small pink tufts of yuuji’s happy trail as his bright red tip bears down harshly on your gummy g-spot — providing him with the lube he needs to make love to you properly. “baby…i c-can’t!”
just as you moan out again, legs squeezing around your boyfriend’s slender waist — yuuji’s blushing face ducks into your neck, making quick work of marking up your skin…because if he looks at your face, the way your brows crease softly and your lips part in a gentle ‘o’, and sees the way it twists with mounting pleasure. he won’t be able to hold off for much longer, he’ll lose his mind and fuck you too hard for either of you to cope. he knows that you can take it, manage to take all of his seed and all of his love — but if yuuji snaps, he’ll be pounding into you until he’s shooting blanks.
with your hands traversing upwards into yuuji’s sea of pink curls and over his smooth undercut, he reacts with his golden eyes rolling back into the dark depths of his skull — temporarily locking away your sunlight that brings warmth to your dorm. a familiar heat prickles underneath the surface of your skin like a thousand tiny needles as you pant out your words, pleading with bambi as you look up at yuuji. “i want your cum, yuuji, i want you to…hah… fill me up ‘n get me pregnant…” there’s a feeling painfully seated above your abdomen, a burning sensation of mounting pleasure like a wound desperate to be licked and soothed by itadori.
by grinding up against him, sticky clit smearing over his tense stomach and golden abs, you think that you might garner some relief — but you only feel teased and taunted when the jock pulls his cock from the snugness of your tight head to slap his milky cockhead against your pulsing mound proudly.
“don’t say it like that, fuck, baby,” yuuji all but groans, lashes fluttering at the slick sound your cunt makes with each love tap. beads of his precum ooze over you in another form of claim, glazing you in yuuji’s scent and taste. some of it even drips from your abused hole as it clenches around nothing, desperate to be filled by all that your boyfriend has to offer. “there’s so much… s’leaking out of you. gonna have to keep you on my dick always, give you all my babies.” the rose haired man can’t even hear himself speak, not over the sound of blood rushing through his ears — carrying sex crazed hormones. certainly not over your sweet sighs that form a melody with the pap, pap, pap of your pussy as he slowly sinks back into you — building up a steady rhythm to his thrusts, like an ocean’s regular tide.
yuuji can’t stop rambling, saying whatever lustful thought sits at the forefront of his mind. having you splayed out beneath him like this, your nipples pert against his firm chest and your breasts bouncing with every forceful lunge of his hips forward — it drives him up a wall. “gonna look so pretty ‘n round when you’re full of me. i’ll put a ring on it, make you my pretty wife — holy fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight. you like it when i talk to you like that, huh?” the thick vein on the underside of his shaft presses deliciously up against pleasure spots that only yuuji knows about, never leaving you unsatisfied, not even for a moment as his body rocks passionately into yours.
tanned skin and hard muscle feel slippery underneath your trembling hands. you don’t know what to hold onto, don’t know how to ground yourself when you feel this good and yuuji’s cock skilfully dives into your sopping heat — promises of the future, a wedding and family hand in the humid air buzzing between you both but is best said by the way itadori’s body dsnces with your own, his arousal soaked signature lining your rippling walls.
“need that so bad, yuuji! need you so bad… please fill me up, i want it inside.” you hiccup and demand, hardly able to speak through it all. the bed moans and groans just like you do, every time itadori’s dick pumps in and pulls out of your dripping, greedy hole — coated in a layer of foamy white. using your elbows as leverage, you work your hips down to meet yuuji in a slick and sensual dance, clenching at every inch of him that assails your insides until delight crackles over your hazy brain.
“god, baby please…if you keep talking like that i’m gonna—“ yuuji whines from deep within his chest, the sound resonating through you and shooting straight down to your creamy cunt that clamps down on him, pulling little droplets of precum from his sensitive tip.
your next words have the jock pounding into you with new vigour, desperate to give you everything that you want. “d-don’t pull out, yuuji. inside.”
“ahh, okay,” he whimpers as his voice rises in pitch, brown eyes stinging with tears. his golden arms flex as they lift you by the apex of your thighs — dragging you back onto his cock and it’s unforgiving pace. itadori presses his forehead to yours, caramel eyes shining with tears that gleam in the afternoon sunlight breaking through the curtains of your dorm. “okay, okay fuck. okay, oh god — h-honey, i’m…fuck! i-im cumming!” he stumbles over his every word, the pink haired jock’s entire world shattering into smaller glass fragments as he finally hits his peak. thick waves of white flood your womb, hot and viscous and lighting you up from the inside out. it coats your swollen pussy lips in an opaque layer that smears along your inner thighs, pouring endlessly from yuuji’s fat cock and breeder’s balls.
effectively breeding you.
still humping at you relentlessly and not daring to leave you far behind, yuuji tacks two of his fingers to your clit and caresses it in smooth circles, searing his name into you forever. he never lets up, fucking his cum into your womb with languid thrusts — bulbous and mushroomed cockhead spurting his hot seet against your g-spot as it grazes the epicentre of your pleasure over and over again. yuuji holds you in his arms while your vision clears, replaced by only blinding flashes of white and accompanied by an empty scream rattling around in your throat. your arousal spurts out of you in generous and clear streams, nearly forcing yuuji’s cock from your tight, rippling walls — painting both you and him in your juices.
your boyfriend can barely hold himself above you as you both finally come down, flopping onto you and trapping you against the sex soiled matress for cuddles.
“we can’t have babies, yuuji,” you laugh happily, letting out a puff of air from deep within your chest once you’re finally able to catch your breath. “not right now, we’re too young and we’re still in college!”
“well duh, not right now…” he muses, kissing your jaw and your neck and every part of you that he’s marked up and bruised. “but like afterwards…yanno? a few years down the line when we both have jobs. i’m gonna be pro and you’ll be a sexy career woman. ‘n i’ll make so much money that you can take all the time off you want. make sure you’re nice and taken care of and—“
giggling, the sweet melodies of your laughter cut through your boyfriend’s wistful rambling.
“what’s so funny?”
“it’s just…you’ve really got this all planned out, huh?” you reach a hand up to cup itadori’s sweaty cheek, brushing a thumb over the rough scarring at the corner of his mouth. he leans into you, much like a cat seeking physical touch, and you scratch just under his chin. “you want to be with me for that long?”
“i mean…yeah. i want you for the rest of my life. i thought that was obvious,” yuuji manages to say while you squish his cheeks and play about with his face, sounding a little dejected. “don’t you? … don’t you want that with me?”
your smile drops as you shift to your elbows, immediately dead set on reassuring your usually confident boyfriend. “of course i want that with gou. i want everything with you, it’s just that…” you chew on your words, push them around the cavern of your mouth as it dries with nervousness. “it’s just that… i’m still so different to you, i’m still not…conventional by any means. so i just thought… by the time college was over you’d—“
“i’d get bored of you?”
yuuji looks almost offended, his pink and kiss-swollen lips pushed forward into a pout and his dark brows drawn together in the centre of his forehead. falling back onto the sheets, one of his hands sink into the pillow supporting your head as you lay flat on your back — you feel it tremble with an emotion you can’t quite place on his face. is it anger? hurt? annoyance? either way, your heart hammers in your chest and crawls it’s way up your throat. you feel nauseous at the prospect of even upsetting yuuji — especially after the loving sex you’ve just had.
a croak in your throat replaces your sweet voice, you’re not sure if it’s because of how you’d been previously screaming your boyfriend’s name or because of how nervous you’ve suddenly become. “y-yeah,” you say slowly. “that.”
“how could you even think that?” yuuji breathes steadily, the corner of his mouth twitching into a frown but you can’t bare to look at him any longer — casting your gaze to the side.
shaking your head, you blink back tears you hadn’t even known were there. “i don’t… i don’t know. forget it, pretend i never said anything.”
itadori bends at the neck to reach you, tutting into the air as it cools down and loses its feverish taste for lust. his nose bumps yours, the pair of them becoming neighbours while his breath coasts across your face almost comfortingly.
“when i say i want you, i mean it. forever,” he confesses, like a reflex, like the natural reflex that his brain has to make his heart beat. “i want you to be my wife after all this. you’re not just some college fling to me. i want to buy you a house, a big ring, keep you comfortable for the rest of my life. i decided on that when i first met you,” a calloused finger and thumb tilt your chin to the perfect angle, making you look at him, your gaze falling into a mahogany one belonging only to your doting partner. “i don't care how long it takes to prove this to you… but you’re the love of my life, so have a little faith in me. okay?”
yuuji takes your hand in his, placing your palm on the left side of his chest where the muscle keeping him alive races for you. the only girl in the room. the only girl in his worlds. his dog tags jingle at the movement but his eyes on you remain unwavering and so full of commitment. you’d be stupid not to believe him now.
“okay,” you affirm sweetly, tilting your head a little further in a silent ask. you want a kiss. “i love you, yuuji.”
“and i love you right back,” he mumbles against your lips without skipping a beat, slotting your mouths together perfectly in a gentle chaste kiss. “now baby, please stop asking me to cum inside, you know i can’t help it and we can’t have babies just yet,” yuuji whines and collapses on top of you with a huff.
“you’re the one who said you wanted to give me babies!”
“and you’re the one who keeps feeding into my breeding kink, let’s not get it twisted here!”
and all throughout your playful bickering, yuuji stays nestled deep inside of you — keeping you plugged full. of both his cum and his love.
꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.
#tteokdoroki#itadori x reader#itadori smut#yuuji itadori smut#yuuji itadori x reader#jjk smut#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#itadori yuuji smut#yuuji itadori x you#itadori yuuji x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#jjk x you#itadori x you#✧ ₊˚੭ — writing#⋆。°✩ — jock bf!yuuji
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jealousy jealousy!
when hes just a little (very) jealous of someone else
bllk boys (nagi, rin, reo) x reader: insecurities, fluff!!!!!!!, established r/s except for rin (but you two get into one by the end!), nagis part was deleted and rewritten TT, not proof read + likes n reblog r appreciated <3
nagi seishiro:
“eh… you cleared this level already…? i thought you were struggling with it..?” nagi’s voice muffled against the pile of blankets his face was smushed in, looking up at you confusedly from your phone, displaying the game level cleared.
its not that he doesnt believe you cleared it all by yourself, if anything youre pretty good at this game despite only playing it for him. its simply because you were complaining on call with him about it, and all of the sudden youve finished it? he doesnt quite believe it, hes gone through that level too and he knows its pretty challenging, taking a little more energy than it really should have even for nagi himself.
“ah.. my seatmate cleared it for me this morning when he saw me playing it!” its strange: your bright voice always wakes him up a little, bringing light into his otherwise dull and boring life. yet this time, he feels his heart pang a little.
its troublesome. he doesnt like feeling this way: his heart tightens at your words, he unconsciously grips your phone a little, only realising when the screen protector cuts him a little, and he feels as though hes getting all fired up strangely the same way he gets on the field. if anything, nagi doesnt even know who this mysterious seat partner is, and he sure doesnt want to know: its troublesome to socialise with others after all. and yet, if there’s anything he’s now set on doing as though his life depends on it, as though your relationship with him depends on it, as though his ego depends completely on this: he wants to confront this guy and challenge him in an actual game competition. he knows he’ll win, he has spent his entire life in bed playing mobile game or spending late hours of the night on grinding back to immortal on different variety of games from valorant to league of legends to overwatch. he’s covered his grounds he thinks, that maybe all those time wasn’t wasted at all other than the fact that you weren’t with him during those time: lending him your lap to lie down on when he plays his switch or phone, lending him your support when you sit on his lap on his chair squirming to keep it a challenge to win and carry his team still, even more lending him your accounts when he plays with you, helping carry you in any game you want or even just building your islands together on animal crossing or minecraft on more chill days.
nagi doesn’t get it - really, its the same ego that drives him in football, not wanting to lose. his eyes flicker with sudden fire and intensity that only burns whenever he plays games with you: whether that be when you die in a pvp game and him immediately straightening his back to avenge you, earning aces for rounds straight until the screen flashes with victory, or when someone talks bad about you in the voice channel and is immediately reacted with nagi’s voice that defends your honour as if he’s your knight in shining armour, or even simply the way his hands click on the mouse quickly whenever he sees a zombie go near you in the dark cave whilst playing something as chill as minecraft. if anything, nagi think it might just apply to real life too: his hands tugging at yours as though on instinct in record speed when you trip on another branch to prevent you from falling, his glare at others whenever they bother you too much that is visible through the awkward smile you give and your hands finding its way to fiddle with his shirt.
and the same ego is clear to him now: he doesn’t want anyone else to be yours, he wants to be the only one to help you. selfish maybe, but he’ll deliver - the way he tracks your figure in the map from valorant to minecraft to even genshin, the way he fights to protect you from the enemies, his hands animatedly clicking at his mouse and the other navigating his keyboard all at the same time in order to garner the best and most successful result that he knows will get you to smile oh so brightly that makes his heart pound, or even the way he charges his old switch just to help you play animal crossing on his own account, maintaining your village and neglecting his all to make a cute little house for you inspired by your pinterest board even though it takes him all night.
and to you, its clear: he’s upset at what you’ve done with the way he deflates even more than he already is. and it clicks. a routine and cycle you’ve unintentionally broken - you complaining about a level or rank you can’t get out of, he’ll listen and ask you about it the next day when youre back at his house, and he’ll fix it just as he always down: an unspoken agreement really.
“sorry sei… i still can’t clear the next level.. help me seiiii…” and suddenly he’s back lying right on your pillowy thighs: the way his eyes that was just seconds ago filled with intensity that you think simply doesn’t fit his face closes with comfort as you massage his scalp again with his fingers, the way his face smushes against your thighs comfortably rather than the weird feeling of him hovering on your thigh as though he wanted to get up, the way his hands no longer grip your phone tightly and instead holds your hand, fitting it right in perfectly.
“kay… its not bothersome with you..” he says, a confession of love from himself. he’ll never find it annoying if its you: he thinks he would play the dinosaur game from having no internet for hours on end if you liked watching him play it, he thinks he’d fight against the same boss for even days straight if you said you needed the materials for it for your character, and he knows he will most definitely help you finish any level you can’t. and something he wont say, a quiet confession springs in his mind: he loves you and most definitely he loves to play for you. and based on you willingly passing him your phone, maybe, just maybe, he wont give in to his impulses and actually find that guy - only shooting daggers at him that sends a shiver down his spine when he waits outside your class for you to release after school.
rin itoshi:
its not the first time rin felt this pang in his chest: he felt it when his older brother kicks the ball to any other member of the football team to shoot for the goal, he felt it when his teammates seems to be able to shoot he ball even more accurately than he does, he felt it when his brother praised yoichi instead of him. he’s always regarded that feeling as something football related: he’s never felt too much emotions outside of his passion and hobbies either way - but lately, he thinks he feels it a lot whenever he’s with you. perhaps, the seed from before blue lock has started blooming: the day you boarded the bus with him to the facility that was hours away from yours and his house that made his cheeks stain with pink as he sits right beside you, eating the filling breakfast you made for him, beaming at him so brightly as you wave him goodbye that makes him hesitate for the first time in his life.
and right now, he doesn’t get it. its not like there’s a lack of chocolates at his desk, if anything its quite the opposite. there’s practically a mountain of chocolates of different variety that would surely fulfill his secret sweet tooth - from dark chocolate in a heart shape mold bought from a fancy shop, from milk chocolates in squares sprinkled with heart shaped sweet bits on top, or even strawberries dipped in white chocolate. and yet, if looks could kill, that guy who’s holding YOUR chocolate box would have died, guts spilled right on the classroom door like those cliche horror games he plays. rin doesn’t get it: its not as if youre close witht that guy,youre his seat partner for all the years you’ve spent together since kindergarten, and he’s sure that that guys no one special right? and its out of character when rin thinks harder about a nobody in his class: do you like band kids like that lame guy? (he did learn the guitar for fun when he was younger, should bring it out from under his bed again?) do you like guys who are a little better at math? (maybe he should study for this weeks math quiz he thinks) or do you like guys who have leadership roles? (he’ll ask to be captain of the football team, its obvious anyways, he’s the best in this dull football club in his school)
usually, when he feels this same pang in his chest, he ignores it, keep mum about it and just work harder instead until the glass shards leave his heart - and yet he can’t do that strangely despite the routine between you two staying: where you and him sit together at the back of the class, playing your phone at the back oops the class unbeknownst to the teacher, giggling and whispering about whatever, your feet kicking his occasionally from the lack of distance that makes his face a little pink. yet, here he is eyeing that last chocolate underneath your table, its unlike the others he noted - unlike the mini chocolate cup you passed to that guy who he wishes to punch simply because of the smug smirk that was plastered on his face, unlike the small chocolate bars you presented to the other girls in the class, and even more special definitely from the chocolate candies you sneak into both his and yours mouth during class. its heart-shaped, reminiscent of the other chocolate now angrily thrown into one plastic bag that he plans to eat whilst crying about this the second he reaches home, a ribbon tied messily clearly with much effort too, and even pasted mini heart papers.
and its not until recess when youre alone with rin in class as per routine, everyone leaving for lunch does he do something about it for the first time in his life about this nagging and tugging feeling that makes him feel like a little kid again. and it just might have been the universe way of telling the two of you how connected you two are: as you struggle to find the courage to give him the slightly burnt chocolate brownies inside the heart shaped box.
“i.. like you.” “f-for you rin..!”
its simultaneous, at the exact same time, where the clock struck 1:00pm.
the confession he’s kept all these years, since the first day he’s met you at kindergarten where you two practically were fixed at the hips ever since: seat partners since primary school all the way up until now where youre both now seventeen and about to go to university and him to become a professional football player soon. ten years - ten years of looking at you as if he’s so far away when youre with anyone but him as he feels the friendship bracelet around his wrist for reassurance, ten years of writing confession letters after confession letters and poetries only to rip them all apart, yelling into his pillow and kicking his feet like a maiden in love, ten years of looking at you pass chocolates every single time during valentines except to him. its unlike rin, he’s never been good at expressing himself, believing in action over words - the way he carries your files and extra bags after school, the way he always listens and remembers what you say and even buy things you’ve mentioned offhandedly with his own pocket money, the way he never hesitates to carry you back home even when his leg is all jelly from football practice that he doesn’t tell you.
and its the same for you. the valentine gift you’ve made for him all these years: spanning from chocolate chip cookies you’ve made, to macrons you bought for him from his favourite bakery, or even his favourite blueberry pie your mother bought you - and yet all left underneath the table, secretly placed back in your bag for you to eat it whilst crying about your cowardice. and you hate it: these ten years of watching him carry a plastic bag full of physical confessions without any interest, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth even when youre staying over and opening a pack of these chocolates when you’re hungry, these ten years of looking bitterly at the friendship bracelet that is nothing more than a bitter reminder of how you’ll never be more because of your own cowardice, these ten years of looking at rin accept everyone’s chocolates but yours.
and for the first time in years, rin thinks it’s just right - when he places his lips on yours, melting into this sweet kiss with the brownie in his mouth. and he thinks you might just taste sweeter than the brownie melting between the two of yours mouth.
reo mikage:
he doesn’t get this tight feeling wrapping like thorns around his heart - seeing you so close with a classmate, smiling as he seems to be teaching you something through the windows of your classroom. it’s clearly not the exhaustion from climbing all the way from his class at the first level to yours at the fourth with this being the millionth time hes done this like a instinct every time the bell rings, its not the way your hands seems to linger so close to his practically touching someone’s else hands that gets reo sweating cold beads of sweat down his neck, and its not jealousy at how someone else might just be better than him. realistically he knows, you’re probably just having difficulties in your academics, a normal human thing but he can’t help the bitter bile that rises to his mouth - he can teach you too evident from the library dates where he helps you go through your homework and teach you the same concepts like hes made for it and hes definitely better than that classmate right? hes smarter, he tops the class every single exam without fail with his name always plastered on the results sheet as number one, he’s much more charming he would like to believe with your smile always reaching your eyes that he adores, and he’s much more useful with the way he can teach you whilst helping you with other things like while buying you food on his phone, fixing your broken pens, or something. he swallows the bitter bile, walking into the practically empty class with just you and that.. classmate, scruntising his every detail in his mind all whilst putting on the charming facade hes too used to having on - one that you can tell by the furrowing of your eyebrows at him as he grabs a chair and slides it beside you as though looking at your homework.
“haven’t i taught you this before?” its petty, he knows, its quite literally a new chapter, one that he knows your class just started on. but he thinks it does the job when he sees your classmate suddenly feel uncomfortable - perhaps its the tone of his voice that underlies irritation clearly meant for him, perhaps its the subtle passive aggressive smile aimed at him, or perhaps its the intimidation of having reo mikage right next to you clearly upset with you. he doesn’t really enjoy the title placed on him, if anything sometimes he loathes the reputation that comes with his family name, with people looking at him as only that and never as reo - but just this time does he thank the stars for his luck.
“huh?” he can tell, youre confused, and he thinks youre just so oblivious or maybe hes just weirdly jealous of something so insignificant that even your brain can’t comprehend him at all. but he doesn’t mind it as he glanced sideways at your classmate - awkwardly and quickly packing his bag, leaving just you and reo sitting at your desk.
and its awkward silence, with him looking at your homework that he just received just an hour ago and hasn’t started on too, and you looking confused at him. its not unfamiliar to see reo in your class, its practically routine at this point, except he usually just stands outside until youre done with packing your bag, taking it right from your hands the second you step out of your class.
“so.. who was that?” he cant help the way his voice suddenly sounds so soft, as though its about to crack, as if hes about to cry. he tries to clear his throat to even it out, and even so, he definitely sounded a little too out of character - out of character for how he presents himself: nothing short of perfect. and he knows youve caught it, the cats out of the bag, when he sees the sides of your mouth tug up a little as you zip your bag.
“just a classmate reo really…” your voice a little teasing, looking at him knowingly, as his hands tug at your bag, slinging it around his right shoulder where it should belong. and he thinks its alright: the way you ruffle his hair that feels just so right that he leans in even closer and even bends down a little like a dog desperate for a pat, the way you beam at him that he knows is meant only for him that shifts the rest of your class to be nothing more than just a blur, the way your bag fits snugly on his shoulder as it was meant to be.
“yeah? it better be!~” he chirps, jealousy no longer gripping onto him like a chain tugging at his neck, reminiscent of the feeling he feels in his stuffy and restrictive home. and he knows it’ll be that way until the end of time: the way your hands tugs at his tightly as though you never want to let go either, the way you look at him as though he’s your entire world, the way you understand him even through a few words. soulmates, maybe, and perhaps he has no reasons to ever feel this bitter feeling that burns his throat.
#itoshi rin x reader#rin itoshi x reader#itoshi rin fluff#rin x reader#nagi seishiro x reader#seishiro nagi x reader#nagi x reader#nagi fluff#reo mikage x reader#mikage reo x reader#reo x reader#reo fluff#blue lock x reader#bllk x reader#bllk fluff#rin.<3
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OLDER ⋆ 정국
you’ve tried, but you can’t help yourself from crushing on your best friend’s dad. hot, buff, tatted up and successful, mr. jeon is the starring actor in all of your wettest dreams. and as you wake up from one while sleeping over at his house after his daughter’s birthday party, you don’t expect all of them to suddenly come true. but they do.
pairing: dilf!jk x inexperienced!fem reader
genre: smut, dilf au, best friend’s father
warnings: lower case intended, porn with some lots of plot, age gap (21 n 38), dom!jk, sub!reader, voyeurism, messy blow job, fingering, oral (f receiving), bit of tit play (small chested reader yayyy), two (2) spanks, unprotected sex, cum eating, dirty talk, a bit of degradation, but also praise, pet names, some angst hehe, she falls first he falls harder??? but miscommunication sadly, forbidden love
ratings: 18+ / mdi
word count: 18.2k
a/n: i kinda hate this it doesnt make sense anymore to me but when i realized i was already 12k words in so 😃 here you are! its also so hard to write smut for me because i get carried away but then it becomes too overwhelming Help. anyways. im back hey!!!!
────୨ৎ────
in the backseat of his car, you stare forward at his hands gripping the steering wheel. there’s something hypnotic about the way his fingers curl around the leather. you bite your lips, an attempt to suppress the heat easily pooling low in your belly, your thighs rubbing together to conceal the effects of your lewd thoughts.
but amid them, one stands out. it’s the one that puts a shameless, selfish smile on your face, when you fixate on the image of the fourth finger of his left hand lacking a gold band.
it’s been a few months since that day— since areum, your best friend, showed up at your door in a frantic state, her finger jabbing the bell over and over in a panicked rhythm that jolted you from your bed.
you had nearly tripped down the stairs in your rush to swing the entrance open, and when you did, you were instantly tackled by your friend collapsing into your arms, her tears soaking through your shirt.
kicking the door shut, your hands busy embracing areum with panic in your eyes, you tried to steady both her and yourself. in between her uncontrollable sobs, shaking you to the core, she let her worries tumble out her mouth. her words came in a torrent, fast and breathless, barely giving you any time to fully process them as she buried her face in your neck, her body trembling.
it took a moment for the huge news to break through your thick, slowed down brain, but then it struck you, areum chanting it repeatedly as if she couldn’t grasp her mind around it: her parents were splitting up. divorce was imminent.
your own disbelief mirrored hers, but for very different reasons. you felt it in the way your shock turned into excitement; indecorous, depraved exhilaration, with your friend still hiding in your chest.
even as her sobs echoed in your ears, your mind latched onto one single thought, repeating like a mantra: he’s single. mr. jeon is single.
you felt terribly guilty when you sensed a smile that you couldn’t quite suppress stretching over your features, and the jittery sensation that came with it flowed your body and reached your hands, tightening them around areum harder to try and squeeze the shame out of yourself.
since that day, you’ve lost count of how many afternoons you’ve spent at areum’s house. you’ve been doing your best to be the friend she needs, to keep her company when what she fears the most is loneliness.
you’ve been a constant presence, helping her through the mountain of neglected work she left piling up, distracting her with baking sessions, or mindlessly binge watching entire seasons of friends on lazy evenings. anything to keep her mind off the pain.
but each visit is an opportunity. a fleeting chance to see him. to study how he moves around the house with that quiet intensity of his, a presence able to fill every room like a calm, steady current.
you’ve memorized many of his mannerisms. the way his eyes soften when he looks at areum; the way his mouth twitches into a faint smile when she tries to cheer him up; the way he nods at you in recognisment, silently letting you know he’s grateful for what you’re doing to help his daughter.
you wish you could help him too. in other ways. ways you know you shouldn’t be thinking about.
you can’t avoid it, though. you’ve witnessed him come back home from work countless times now, watched the tension etched across his features as he steps through the door, wished you could be the one to ease it off his shoulders. let your hand travel down his chest, reach his belt.
you feel disgusting unfailingly, but how can you not let your mind wander when he groans so deliciously every time he loosens the tie around his neck and kicks off his shoes?
you know exactly what his next move is, the imperceptible sigh melting the weariness off his face the moment he greets his daughter, a tender smile breaking through his exhaustion.
“any requests for dinner tonight, girls?” he always asks, his gaze jumping between areum and you on the living room couch, waiting for a response.
after your friend replies she likes whatever her daddy cooks, your stomach twists with nerves when his eyes meet yours to make sure there’s no complaints, and you quickly shake your head, biting your lips to keep from saying something foolish. is your dick on the menu? perhaps?
and the man can cook. exceptionally well. he moves around the kitchen with an effortless grace, every movement purposeful, every dish you have the honor of tasting better than the last.
while you help setting the table, you catch yourself staring more times than you should, mesmerized by the way he chops vegetables or stirs a pot, and you can’t help but wonder if there’s anything he’s not good at.
fuck. is there even a single flawed bone in this man’s body? with every day you spend at his house, you’re convinced there can’t be.
you want him to notice you, the same way you notice him. you tell yourself you’re just being a good friend to areum, but you know there’s more behind your constant visits.
there’s definitely more behind the way your skirts get shorter, your tops tighter, your bras purposefully not worn.
you feel crazed when you convince yourself his gaze falls upon your exposed thighs when he puts a plate in front of you at dinner, or when his eyes seem to be caught, only for a fleeting second, by your hardened nipples, evident through your poor excuses of shirts.
even when your interactions don’t go further than a brief exchange about college and areum or quiet, polite smiles in passing, the mere thought of being around him sends a rush through your veins, a dark and forbidden feeling tumbling in your stomach.
you’ve been seeking more and more of that after one particular night, your feet making their way down the stairs after areum had fallen asleep and you had rathered take your leave. you found him stretched on the couch, a drink in his hand.
his eyes hazily followed your movements, his voice low and slightly slurred, “are you leaving already?”
hearing him acknowledge you outside of the usual context of areum’s presence made you stop dead in your tracks, your reddened cheeks turning to face him, the dark color spreading all over your features when you fully took him in.
he was cladded in a comfortable attire, one you almost never saw on him, black sweatpants and a gray t-shirt falling sweetly on his shoulders, the short sleeves revealing the intricate ink designs running all over his right arm.
you shook yourself out of your trance suddenly, stuttering, “huh… yes. didn’t wanna be a bother.”
he chuckled softly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine, “oh, you’re not. i wish all of my daughter’s friends were like you.”
his words hung in the air, with sincerity and something else you couldn’t quite decipher. you simply laughed along, a nervous, shaky sound escaping your lips, trying to mask the way your heart was racing with desperation for the gods to grace you with the depth of his tipsy voice all night.
to this day, you still think your horny and delusional prayer was heard when he nodded to the empty space beside him, lifting his glass slightly, “care for a drink? you’re 21 now, right?”
you only nodded shyly, more out of reflex than actual thought, slowly making your way to sit beside him just as he had instructed. the proximity sent a wave of heat through your body, your insides melting with the lava, the smell of his cologne and laundry detergent replacing the burned ground with a trail of flowers.
you were willing to do whatever he wanted from you at that moment, even if it meant downing the harsh liquor he poured into a glass for you. you took a sip, struggling not to grimace at the burn that followed. he smiled.
it was probably the alcohol loosening his tongue, but that night, for the first time, you saw a side of mr. jeon that he kept carefully hidden away, his vulnerability a strong characteristic of it.
his words tumbled out in a quiet, almost confessional tone. he spoke about his marriage, about how he had always felt somewhat trapped. still a teenager himself, he was only 17 when he found out his soon to be wife was pregnant with areum; 23 when they decided to marry.
his voice soft, but tinged with a sadness you hadn’t heard before, he admitted he never felt like he got to live his youth to the fullest, certainly blessed with his perfect baby, but also chained down by responsibilities and a tightening pressure he shouldn’t have had to deal with at such a young age.
then, with his eyes burning into your shiny and equally flaring ones, he paused just for a moment, and you felt he could see right through you, into the very core of your being. that he had you all figured out.
“when i look at you,” he continued, his voice barely more than a whisper, his gaze traveling down your bare thighs, squished together on his couch, “i feel like i get a bit of that youth back. you’re so full of life, so fresh, so… full of love for my daughter. i’m glad she has you. glad we have you.”
as he found your orbs again, you noticed his had significantly darkened. you were sure your heart would have failed you if you had kept navigating in his gaze; instead, you looked down at your hands folded in your lap.
that night, he paid for your uber and insisted you sent him a text when you made it home. it was only read the morning after, and left unanswered.
even now, you’re convinced that if it weren’t for the whisky, those words would have stayed locked away in his mind, never seeing the light of day. not even if he were forced to speak them at gunpoint.
still, you’re grateful for the magical effects of alcohol and how they’ve brought you a tiny bit closer to give a look into his complicated world. it has awakened something in you, something stronger and far more dangerous than anything you’ve felt before.
you want to be there for him. help him through the doubts and regrets. be the youth he missed. take the weight off his shoulders. let him use you on that couch.
that feral, undomesticated monster inside you is a hundred times hungrier when, exiting the library building with areum by your side, babbling in your ear about today’s plans, you see his sleek mercedes parked outside.
he honks, getting his daughter’s attention too, who excitedly walks over the car when she spots it. the sound works as a pavlovian trigger for you, it has your mouth salivating and your senses alert, catching up with your friend and getting in the backseat.
it has been a few weeks since you last saw him, both you and areum too busy with assignments and outside activities, and his charming smile as he asks about the day cuts the breath from your lungs.
you’re silent as your friend fills him in, your ears struggling to pick up her speech as it only takes a few more seconds for your eyes to be caught by an interesting detail, one that has your world rocked: he finally took his wedding ring off.
the wedding ring that has stood as an unspoken boundary between you and your reckless fantasies is gone.
the realization hits hard, and suddenly, the reality around you narrows. your mind veers into dangerous territory, conjuring visions that feel too real.
you can almost feel his left hand wrapping around your waist, pulling you in, claiming you. and the images are so vivid, so consuming, that you don’t even notice when areum nudges your shoulder.
you don’t register her calling your name until the sound finally cuts through, pulling you back to the present with a jolt.
you blink a few times, trying to ground yourself, before turning to face her, areum’s voice light but her expression amusedly curious, “dad asked you a question.”
your whole face drops, panic clear in your features, and heat immediately rushes to your cheeks. you’ve been zoning out, lost in a daydream about the very man sitting in front of you, the one you literally just ignored, too busy thinking of him. the irony is almost too much.
your eyes find his in the rearview mirror, and the slight smirk on his lips only makes you look even dumber, stuttering all throughout your explanation, “sorry, mr. jeon. i— um. i was distracted.”
he simply chuckles, low and clearly not offended by your lapse in attention. his focus is back on the road, but as he speaks you keep yours on the words he’s directing at you this time, “it’s okay. i always tell you, just jeongguk is fine. i was asking about your day, you seem a little worn out.”
“oh. i—it went well! i guess i’m just tired,” the words feel clumsy as they leave your mouth, but you hope they sound convincing enough. you just can’t stop your eyes from falling on his left hand.
“well, you can’t be!” it’s areum’s excitement interrupting your furious imagination and bubbling over, “you need to help me set up for tonight. then, we’re gonna do our makeup, our hair, and dress up. i’m so excited!”
right. the reason why you could finally see mr. jeon after weeks and why you’re currently driving to his house is because it’s areum’s birthday.
the day feels significant in so many ways. you’re excited to witness your best friend turn a year older even after the hardships she’s been faced with. honored that you’re the one she’s chosen to help make this night perfect, ensure every detail is just how she’s pictured this moment to be like. and you can’t deny that you feel slightly nervous at the prospect of tonight, knowing there’s going to be faces you’re not that well acquainted with. you’d say you’re a bit awkward with new people, but you’ll try to bear through it for the sake of areum’s happiness.
but mostly, you feel guilty. because no matter how much you try to focus on your friend, the thought that truly makes your insides all mushy with fuzziness is the fact that you’re going to be in the proximity of her dad, again.
you crave for the smallest moments. the brief second where you’ll catch his gaze. the way his cologne will subtly linger in the hallways of his home. your eyes have a habit of drifting to his hands, those strong, veined, tattooed hands that move so smoothly whenever he speaks.
even now, in his car, as you glance at his side profile, there’s a ridiculous and almost cosmic sense of gratitude. like you’ve been chosen. blessed by whatever god to exist on this planet at the same time as him, to simply witness his presence.
it should be enough. it really should. but you’re a sinner. you’re greedy, wanting more. always more.
that buzzing sensation sticks with you throughout the entire day. the hours are packed with frantic energy, as you and areum run around in anxious over-organization, only for her own panic to rub off on you, making your movements quick and precise, as if every step has to be executed flawlessly.
and with all the chaos, he’s there in the back of your mind. mr. jeon. his presence is overwhelming, even when he’s not around.
he helps for a while, joining you in the backyard as you set up for the evening, his calm demeanor in stark contrast to the whirlwind around you. but then he disappears into his studio, retreating into his own space, leaving you to your tasks, and you don’t see him until hours later.
yet, you still feel him, as if he’s always near. his upstairs studio’s window faces the garden, and it’s enough to make you hyper-aware of your every gesture.
you straighten your back, slow your steps, each action more deliberate, because even though you don’t know if he’s really watching, it feels like he is.
getting your makeup, hair and outfit ready with areum does slightly ease that sensation off your chest. you love these moments with her. shared girlhood when you do each other’s eyeliner, the flutter of excitement as you zip up dresses, as you rummage through her closet, searching for the perfect piece to complete your look.
but even then, you’re brought back to the man working just a few rooms down the hallway. it’s astonishing how easily areum has access to everything she wants. the power her dad holds, the kind of wealth that makes life feel effortless in ways you can’t help but envy.
for her, money isn’t just something that buys things. it’s a silent force that shapes her world. she doesn’t have to worry about how much something costs or wonder if she’ll ever have enough. it’s as simple as snapping her fingers.
it must be nice to have that kind of life. to have someone like him in your corner, with wealth that seems to fall into place as easily as leaves from a tree. you don’t resent her for it, not really. but it makes you wonder what it would be like to live in a world where nothing is out of reach.
where everything, even the man who haunts your thoughts, could be yours with the right words or a simple gesture.
when you see him again, you’re standing in his kitchen. areum is still upstairs, fixing the tiniest details to her makeup, but you decided to come down early, just in case the first guests arrive, wanting to be helpful, wanting to keep yourself busy.
you’re momentarily lost in the view outside the window, the backyard garden bathed in the warm glow of fairy lights, their soft hues blending beautifully with the sage and pastel yellow decorations. the setup looks like something out of a dream, and it pulls a small, unbidden smile to your face.
the quiet peace is interrupted by the sound of a cupboard cracking open behind you, and you startle, your heart giving a quick jump.
you turn, following the noise, and there he is— jeongguk, bent over as he retrieves a bottle of red wine from the lower cupboard.
as he straightens up, bottle in hand, he finds your eyes already staring in his. he’s uncharacteristically deliberate as he still lets his gaze wander up and down your figure.
you’ve dressed carefully for tonight, choosing a flowy pink dress that flutters delicately against your thighs. the corset top hugs your waist in all the right ways, accentuating your shape, the kind of dress that makes you feel just a little more confident, a little more seen.
but now, under his gaze, you feel exposed, like he’s seeing more than just the fabric of your dress. his eyes linger longer than usual, and when his orbs dip to your chest, it’s almost as if he hesitates, like he’s trying to tear his eyes away but can’t.
you’re not even sure if the engrossed look on his face is real or just the product of your own twisted fantasies.
still, your body responds instinctively, your hand drifting up to play with your necklace, an unconscious gesture, while your other arm wraps around your waist, as if you’re trying to hold yourself together under the intensity of his stare.
when his eyes return to your wide ones, he gives a subtle nod towards your dress, and the smile that curves his lips is warm, but you can’t decipher that something else it wants to communicate.
his voice is smoother than you’ve ever heard it, as if literal honey, sweet and rich, is dripping out from his pillowy lips, “what a beauty. you look very pretty.”
you weren’t expecting that. it steals the breath from your lungs. it’s not just the words, or even the way he says them, velvet wrapping around your senses.
it’s how he seems to drink you in, his refined wine nothing in comparison. like you’re something to be savored just as carefully.
at this point, you’re seriously questioning if there was a stronger substance in the liquor you and areum shared earlier, even if you hadn’t taken big quantities, each small sip burning your throat and making you grimace at the sensation. but you figure it must have been enough to distort the current reality around you. or maybe, mr. jeon is the inebriated one.
you don't know how you find the voice to speak, or if you even do, the word escaping your lips in an uncoordinated mess, almost imperceptible, “thanks.”
he hums deeply in response, and it vibrates through the space between you. you let out a shaky exhale the moment his gaze finally shifts away. he resumes the task at hand, effortlessly opening the bottle of wine and turning his back to you as he reaches for a glass from the higher cabinet.
the muscles in his shoulders shift under his shirt, and for a split second, you’re unsure what to do. whether to stay, add anything else, flee the room entirely. make small conversation about areum’s birthday. comment on his look, too. oh, you have a lot to say about it.
you can tell he just wrapped up his work-related tasks for today from the way the first three buttons of his white shirt are opened, revealing his deep cleavage. his hair slightly tousled, but in a way that looks purposeful, perfectly intentional. his slacks hug him deliciously, rounding the curve of his ass and making you swallow hard.
your eyes can’t resist trailing over him, but they quickly move up to stare at the ceiling, feigning deep thought when he turns back to face you, and the counter.
surprisingly, he’s the one to break the silence first, again. the rich sound fills the air as he pours the red wine, the motion so precise, so fluid, it feels like witnessing an authentic art form.
he doesn’t bother looking up at you as he asks, seemingly casual, but slightly amused, “is there a boy you’re trying to impress tonight?”
the way he steers the conversation makes you less agitated, more confident. especially with the question thrown your way. teasing, almost belittling. you can see he’s not even trying to hide his pretty smirk, his focus on the wine flowing into the glass.
the question lingers, and you twirl your necklace around your fingers, smoothing down your dress with your other hand, your eyes flitting to his naked left hand, “mh… you could say so.”
of course, you’re not thinking about a boy. mr. jeon is no boy— he’s a man. the kind women dream about but know they’ll never find. the kind that belongs on the big screen or in the pages of a novel, with his effortless charm, his wealth, his looks that stop you in your tracks.
but he’s in front of you. and he’s tall, muscular, with hands that could crush or caress, tattooed in a way that makes your mouth dry up and water all at once.
it’s him you want to impress. you want to affect him the way he affects you, with effortless intensity. you want to pull him in, make him look at you the way he makes your world tilt on its axis with just a glance.
you’re hypnotized as you witness him in one of his rich man activities, performing a ritual with the wine glass. he brings it to his nose, his eyes fluttering shut as he takes in the aroma.
there’s something so practiced, so sensual in the way he handles the glass, the liquid dancing with delicate precision, as if even this simple act holds meaning. you can’t look away.
when he's satisfied, he finds you again, and your mouth is slightly open without you even realizing it. the moment he lifts the glass to his lips, you bite your own, almost harshly, your body reacting before your mind can catch up.
his smile is soft, but there’s something unsettling in its honesty, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.
he mutters into the glass, his words resounding even stronger, “well, he’d be a fool not to fall for you.”
the implications of his comment make you swallow audibly, while he downs his first sip of the wine with fine ease, his adam’s apple bobbing with it. the whole time, his eyes never leave yours.
a thick silence stretches between you, and you wish you could break it but you don’t know how. your mind spins with the unspoken tension, but he seems entirely comfortable with it. the only sound filling the space is the quiet hum of the house.
he places the glass back on the counter, the soft clink of it slicing through the quiet. smoothly, he nudges it in your direction, his movements slow, as if testing the waters.
his voice is inviting, even more than usual, “you want some?”
”is that wine?” you instantly cringe at the way you sound strained.
he hums, a low sound of affirmation, watching you carefully.
you briefly glance at the glass, “i’ve never had it.”
”try it, then.”
with a slow twist of his fingers around the base, he slides the glass toward you. as it moves across the marble surface, you notice how he rotates it imperceptibly, but purposefully, so that the side where his lips touched the rim is now facing you.
the gesture is subtle, but the intent behind it is clear. at least to your deranged fantasies.
there’s a faint lip mark where his mouth had been, and the sight of it pulls you in, making your pulse pound in your ears. you look back up at him, finding his gaze still on you, his expression unreadable but heavy with implication.
without a word, you lift the glass, your fingers wrapping clumsily around the stem. you bring it to your lips, your mouth closing over the spot his lips had just pressed on.
the wine hits your tongue— bitter, sharp, and unfamiliar. you gulp hard, the liquid burning slightly as it slides down your throat. your face scrunches involuntarily, a clear sign of distaste. the richness of the flavor is too much for you, and you can’t help but grimace as the aftertaste lingers.
he watches, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. when you set the glass down, he effortlessly picks it back up and brushes his fingers across the rim.
his tone laced with amusement, he asks, “like it?”
you shake your head quickly, trying to hide your discomfort.
his chuckle is low, a soft rumble that makes your stomach flip. swirling the wine gently, he muses, “i heard there’s going to be alcohol tonight.”
you groan lightly, slumping your shoulders, “ugh, i know.”
the endearment rolls off his tongue like a secret meant just for you, his voice dipping into something softer, more intimate, “make sure you don’t drink too much, pretty face. i’ll be around.”
just like that, he turns and walks away, leaving you standing there, your thoughts spinning. pretty face?
what just happened? you’re not sure, but you’ve definitely stepped into something dangerous, something you can’t quite shake.
it’s hard to do so, even as the birthday party kicks off. the energy in the backyard shifts as more guests arrive. lively voices and unfamiliar faces begin to fill the space. areum’s laughter cuts through the hum, infectious and bright, drawing everyone in.
it all contrasts sharply with the weight still hanging in your chest from your earlier encounter with mr. jeon. your eyes keep darting toward the house, toward where you know he is, even though the logical part of you tells you to stop.
you stand at the entrance to the garden for a moment, taking in the scene. the subtle smell of flowers mixes with the faint scent of food, and your best friend bounces around the space, radiant in her dress. you’re genuinely happy for her, honored to share this moment.
and with your best efforts, you start engaging with others, smiling as you talk to some classmates and mutual friends, but it’s all surface-level. your mind is elsewhere.
it’s only later, as the evening progresses and the party settles into a rhythm, that you begin to relax. mainstream music plays in the background, and it inevitably involves everybody, as some classic party games become the main entertainment.
long after the cake and the gift-opening, the group gathers into a loose circle, throwing each other never have i ever questions.
you can’t help the way you all still feel like teenagers deep down, and how you get foolishly excited whenever the topic gets hot, and hints at anything that is sex related.
childish and immature, you know, but your ears still perk when the first probing question is tossed out.
“never have i ever been fingered.”
areum instantly shushes it, her eyes panickedly looking back to the house in hopes her dad isn’t around. laughter bubbles just as quickly, both because of the question and the girl’s reaction.
as expected, many reach for their drink, and you do too. the few present boys holler in a teasing manner, gaining some eye rolls.
sheepishly, the plastic cup touches your lips and you take the smallest sip from your punch. you can’t appear unbothered like your other peers, your cheeks subtly flaming as the embarrassing memories rush to your mind.
it’s silent, the small plea you telepathically send to anyone that might be listening. you pray for the topic to shift to something else, something that won’t inevitably put you at the center of the attention. something you can relate to.
but of course, god is not on your side. the questions only dig deeper, wandering in uncharted territory (at least for you), and you never reach for your glass again.
you can only sink further in your chair as everybody else around you seems even more lively with the way the game has turned, sharing their experiences, giggling as they listen, refilling their cups.
beside you, areum buzzes with energy as every question is just something for her to drink to, nothing that shocks her or that she isn’t familiar with.
never have i ever given head.
never have i ever been ate out.
never have i ever rode someone.
it’s undeniable, the way your skin heats up. with how you’ve been spending your whole day, fantasizing about the man who’s probably already asleep in his bedroom by now, your friends sharing their adventures only fuels your imagination.
you feel dirty when you put yourself in those scenarios, and for every daring moment they relive, the figure that appears beside you is always mr. jeon.
if only you turned your head, just for a moment, and glanced toward the kitchen window that faces the backyard.
you would have seen the same man dominating your thoughts, staring intently at the scene unfolding outside.
jeongguk is hidden in the shadows, the darkness of the house swallowing him whole, with every light turned off. maybe that’s why neither you nor areum notice him.
you don’t see him. you don’t feel him. you’re too caught up in the moment, too consumed by your own desires, unaware that the man that put you in that same condition is standing so close, watching.
jeongguk traces your every move with his intense gaze. he studies how your face dips down at every new question, how your smile seems just a little too tight, too forced when listening to the stories, the ones that make you shift uncomfortably in your chair.
if you don’t notice it, he does almost immediately— the way the attention in the circle shifts toward you.
the glances thrown your way become layered with a subtle curiosity, laced with something that looks like concern. but then, in the eyes of a few, jeongguk catches a faint trace of judgment.
it’s there, in the tilt of their heads, in the way they exchange fleeting looks with one another, as if they sense your unease and interpret it as something lesser. something they can pick apart.
his jaw tightens as he observes, that familiar protective instinct stirring within him. it makes his hands twitch by his side. he stays rooted in place.
eventually, the moment you clearly seem to dread the most (it doesn’t take a genius to know. it’s written on your face. or maybe, he got so used to studying you. it comes easy to him. knowing you,) follows.
it makes you want to vanish into the thin air caressing your legs, the way the question is put out with intent, an only pretending-to-be-careful tone wrapping it, all pairs of eyes instantly directed in your direction.
“never have i ever… had sex.”
you feel trapped, a momentary panic bubbling in your chest as you reach for your cup, hesitant. the rim hovers near your lips as you avoid every expectant glance, taking the smallest sip you can manage.
a murmur ripples through the circle. you can’t decipher it, too busy feeling the heat spread across your face. it’s only later that you realize no one else drank. the question had been crafted specifically for you, a silent test.
lara exhales, a teasing smile playing on her lips, “woah, i was getting worried for a second there, ___.”
you barely have time to react before areum steps in, her voice sharp in your defense, “what’s wrong with never having had sex, either way?”
“nothing, but—”
you’re not sure why you speak, and why you choose your speech that way specifically. you cut in before you even realize what you’re doing, driven by a sudden urge to explain yourself, an unshakable need to clarify forcing itself up your throat, “i only took a small sip, though.”
the group’s collective curiosity spikes, attention zeroed in on you like never before. you feel it— everyone waiting for you to continue, to reveal something you’ve kept to yourself until now. so, you give in, words tumbling out against your better judgment.
you clear your throat, straighten your back against your chair, your tone evasive, “i technically am not a virgin, but…”
the expectation drips from every person around you, their wide orbs trained on you, and for some reason you continue, gulping audibly before providing them with an explanation they don’t deserve, “when we— did it, he um… he got his tip in, but— god, this is embarrassing.”
“c’mon, tell us!”
you sigh, pressing forward with the humiliating truth, “he came, like, two seconds after. so, i felt nothing.”
the laughter that erupts is immediate, your friends covering their mouths in shock and amusement. you can only chuckle nervously, shrinking in your seat with a deep, liberating exhale.
yunjin pats your shoulder beside you, “that’s so sad, babe. we need to find you a real man.”
a strange sense of relief courses through you, the adrenaline from finally being acknowledged and validated by your friends swelling within, and you quickly learn how the buzz spreading to your body after taking part in sharing one of your experiences awakens you significantly.
you don’t know why, but you keep talking, oversharing, feeding into the newfound attention, “oh, i’ve been waiting for one in particular.”
you quickly become the center of attention for different reasons than the previous ones, now. their curiosity flares again, eyes wide with excitement as they beg for more details. who is it? tell us!
their voices overlap, but you dismiss them all with a playful shake of your head, giggles bubbling up as you try to evade their questions.
but just as quickly as the moment came, it fades when you glance to the side, and your smile drops.
jeongguk’s eyes meet yours immediately.
the intensity of the gaze knocks the breath from your lungs, the air thick between you as time seems to slow.
he’s been watching the entire time, arms crossed, the muscle in his jaw tensing as his tongue presses against the inside of his cheek. there’s a quiet frustration etched into his expression, a subtle irritation with your friends’ behavior. but it’s more than that. there’s something stirred by your confession.
your inexperience. your innocence. the untarnished parts of you he’s only beginning to realize he wants to corrupt.
the truth is, he’s known for a long time. longer than he’d like to admit, really. but he’s never let himself feel it fully until now.
it wasn’t something that hit him all at once. no, it crept up on him slowly, over the months. he’s always known you were beautiful, in that distant, untouchable way. you’re his daughter’s best friend, after all.
but he couldn’t help his eyes from lingering on you a little too long when you’d come over to hang out with areum, how his heartbeat would quicken up when he’d let himself be coddled by the warmth of your helping actions, the way his muscles would tense when he’d catch sight of you lounging by the pool.
he’d been good at keeping it under bay. but you weren’t subtle, not even the slightest. your fleeting glances, your breath hitching whenever he was near, your clothes putting you on display for him. it all made it harder.
even more when you’ve been nothing but the proof that angels exist, and at some point he convinced himself you were sent on earth to fill the void he felt his whole life, with your unconditional care towards his daughter and your pupils widening whenever they’d land on his.
and earlier, in the kitchen. he’s used to being in control, but the way you responded to his presence, to the compliment he gave you, had moved something deep inside him.
maybe it was seeing you tonight, all grown up and standing there in that dress, hugging your figure deliciously. how you carried yourself, confident yet unsure, mature yet untouched.
hearing you talk about your inexperience, about that brief, awkward encounter with a boy who clearly didn’t know what he was doing. watching you squirm under your friends’ teasing questions, witnessing how you tried to explain yourself.
it’s like it all clicks into place for him. and for the first time, he’s letting himself acknowledge it.
jeongguk wants you.
he knows it’s wrong. so wrong. he’s never felt this way about someone so much younger than him, and yet, the need to be the first one to truly touch you, to show you what it means to be wanted by a real man, makes his blood run hot.
it’s dangerous, the way these thoughts take hold of him now. maybe it’s the way you’ve changed lately, stepping into womanhood but still holding onto that wide-eyed innocence. or maybe it’s him. maybe he’s the one who’s changed, his resistance crumbling little by little.
he feels disgusting. selfish, his stomach swirling with nerves. dirty, his fingers twitching and begging to free his insides from such feelings.
but there’s simply no ignoring it anymore, no pretending like you’re just areum’s friend. that boundary he set in his mind is starting to blur. he’s old enough to know better, but old enough to know exactly what he wants.
your eyes widen with terror, meeting jeongguk’s own hardened gaze. he wants to tell you, wants you to know, but the way your startled expression lingers in his narrowed eyes makes him hesitate. it fills him with uncertainty, an unfamiliar feeling, one he rarely contends with.
the moment is abruptly interrupted when one of areum’s friends, an older guy she’s met through her dad’s colleague, crashes into you from behind, draping his weight over your shoulders.
you struggle not to stumble forward, holding yourself on the arms of your chair while you look to the side, and immediately try to pull away when you realize the unwanted proximity.
but it’s hard, you’re weaker than the boy’s embrace, holding you still and wiggling his eyebrows, his tone playful as he ruffles your hair, “is it me?”
the people around you laugh, the sound light and carefree, but the way your body stiffens, the clear discomfort in your eyes— jeongguk notices.
and he also notices (reluctantly) the ugly feeling making space in his stomach the more that guy’s face moves closer to yours. his jaw twitches, the muscle at his temple ticking.
he can’t just stand there doing nothing anymore.
the sudden sound of the door to the garden opening catches everyone’s attention, and your gaze flies over in that direction.
jeongguk steps out, his presence commanding, and your expression drops. areum’s eyes grow wide, instantly sensing something wrong in the way her father is looking at the scene. his eyes are too dark, too sharp, and if no one else detects it, you and his daughter surely do.
still, the taller boy behind you moves up again, taking a step back from your seat, and jeongguk seems to reserve him a look you find hard to decipher. it’s firm, heavy with a warning.
“areum,” he calls, his voice calm but edged, and it sends a shiver down your spine.
she’s quick to move toward him, and you can’t help but try to listen in on what he’s saying to her.
but the voices of your friends rise again, loud and boisterous, filling the space with chatter, drowning out any chance you had of overhearing.
you sigh, and when you return to your slumped position on your chair, you can’t ignore how all the girls around you are sneaking glances at him, their giggles piercing through the air as they whisper among themselves.
jeongguk has always had a certain effect on people, and tonight is no different. you hear some of their comments, but they don’t fully register in your mind.
all you can focus on is the bitter feeling rising in your chest.
you bite the inside of your cheek, fingers fidgeting with the hem of your dress. it sickens you, the way you have to share the image of him with everyone else.
you wish only your eyes had been granted the gift of looking at him, of admiring the way his shirt stretches across his chest or how his hair falls perfectly, even when tousled.
but instead, he’s a spectacle for everyone to enjoy, and you hate it.
when areum returns, she’s slightly slumped over, her energy deflated. behind her, mr. jeon stands with his arms crossed, a small, condescending smile tugging at his lips.
areum’s voice is low as she announces, “the party’s over, guys.”
the subtle groans of disappointment echo around you as your friends try to protest, giving up when met with no possible negotiation. they then gather their things, saying their goodbyes and slowly trickling out, only after trying to argue about it.
once the last guest has left, it’s just the three of you, left to clean up the remnants of the night in the dimly lit garden.
jeongguk barely looks at you. his focus is elsewhere. on the mess, on areum, on anything but you.
as you bend down to gather some empty cups, you steal a look at him again. he’s helping clean up too, though his motions are deliberate and slow.
it’s silent for a while as each one of you picks up their own task. teamwork seems to be efficient, every area of the backyard slowly regaining its original aspect.
until areum yawns dramatically, stretching her arms above her head as she makes her way over to you and her father. she mumbles, blinking heavily. "’m so sleepy."
jeongguk raises an eyebrow, glancing at the still-messy garden, some leftover cups and plates scattered across the tables, and the chairs strewn about from the night's festivities.
he teases lightly, his voice tinged with a hint of amusement. "oh, really? you’re just gonna leave all this mess behind?"
for a moment, the weight of his words hangs in the air. you and areum both freeze, glancing at each other with wide eyes, unsure if he’s serious. the pause is brief, but it’s enough for tension to rise in your chest.
but then, jeongguk’s lips curl into a soft, knowing smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
“just kidding,” he chuckles, his tone warm now, the joke clear. “go sleep, c’mon. it’s past your bedtime.”
areum sighs with exaggerated relief, rolling her eyes before stepping forward to wrap her arms around her dad in a loose hug. she mumbles into his chest, “i’m not a kid anymore, dad. i don’t have a bedtime.”
he chuckles with a lightness that was foreign to you until that moment, and he leans down, pressing his lips gently to the top of her head, his voice low and tender as he whispers, “whatever you say. happy birthday, reumie.”
it’s such a simple moment, nothing grand or elaborate, but the intimacy of it, the quiet affection between father and daughter, makes your heart clench.
you watch them with stars in your eyes, completely captivated by this rare portrayal of vulnerability from mr. jeon. he’s always been the composed, collected man in the background of areum’s life, but here, he’s just a father, brimming with love for his daughter.
you almost feel like an intruder witnessing such a private exchange, but you can’t pull your eyes away. every detail — his hand softly resting on her back, the delicate warmth in his eyes, the way his voice softened — it all paints a picture of a side of him you’ve rarely seen.
you want to be part of it, too. want to bask in his love, the one he keeps hidden but the same one that shapes him whole. that fills him from head to toe, never spilling, always quiet. makes him the brave man you only know through your best friend’s admiring eyes, never from his words.
he doesn’t like talking about himself, but you’d kill to know what truly goes through his mind, even for just a second. you’d gladly find a house in his brain, and you’d pay rent and everything.
when areum finally pulls away and turns to you, her expression sleepy but content, she asks, “you coming with me?”
you hesitate, glancing at the mess still surrounding you. you speak with a small, reassuring smile, only looking at your friend, “i’ll be there in a minute. i wanna help clean up first.”
she just shrugs, already too tired to argue, and heads inside. jeongguk’s eyes follow her briefly before flicking back to you.
his lips part as if he wants to say something. maybe to insist that you shouldn’t stay, or that you should go inside too. but the words never come. instead, he watches you silently for a second longer, before turning his attention back to the garden.
now, it’s just the two of you.
the quiet between you isn’t uncomfortable, but it’s heavy. the subtle hum of the night seems louder now without the chatter of party guests, and the soft rustling of leaves in the breeze fills the air as you move around the small round tables, readjusting the chairs.
you’re trying to focus on the task at hand, but your mind keeps drifting back to mr. jeon. to the protective edge in his tone earlier, to the way he’s been looking at you tonight.
but then, in your distraction, you clumsily trip over your own feet, your breath catching as you stumble forward.
before you can fall, though, a strong hand grips your arm, steadying you instantly.
“oops. careful, little one,” it’s jeongguk’s deep voice murmuring close to your ear, the warmth of his touch grounding you.
your face flushes immediately, the heat spreading across your cheeks and down your neck.
“sorry,” you whisper, glancing up at him through your lashes, feeling ridiculously small under his intense gaze.
“it’s okay,” he instantly replies, his tone so gentle it almost makes your heart falter.
silence falls again, but this time, it’s thicker, and maybe even uncomfortable. you both remain still for a moment, his hand loosely gripping your arm, and you feel yourself burn where his fingers rest. his thumb brushes your skin lightly, a subtle, almost imperceptible gesture, but it’s enough to make you gulp audibly.
finally, he releases you, stepping back slightly, but his eyes never leave yours, "thanks for making my daughter happy today. i really appreciate that. i appreciate you."
the words catch you off guard, your breath hitching at the sincerity in his voice, deeper, almost too revealing.
your mind races, trying to find the right words to respond, but all you can manage is a stutter, “oh. i—”
his voice is firmer when he gently cuts you off, “go sleep now. i’ll finish here.”
you want to protest, but the way he’s looking at you — his dark eyes locking onto yours, holding you in place even with his hand now by his side — makes it impossible.
there’s something about the way he’s speaking, like he’s being careful with his words, almost spelling them out, making sure you’re paying attention to each one, “if you need anything, you know where to find me. yeah?”
you swallow hard, nodding slowly. his gaze is unwavering, and it feels like he’s saying something more than just the words themselves, something you can’t quite grasp yet. you stammer, “right. yes. i—i’ll… goodnight.”
“goodnight.”
it’s not exactly a good night for you. in a sense, maybe it is. you always welcome dreams like these when they decide to visit. but right now, it feels more than a little awkward.
worst timing ever. you’re lying next to areum, the daughter of the very man who’s making you wet with just a few flashes of imagery dancing behind your closed eyelids.
at first, it’s soft, almost serene. you see a beach, engulfed in warm, blurry tones that blend together like watercolors left to bleed in the sun. the sea is flat, unmoving, and glimmers like pearls under the flaming light.
a weight presses down on your exposed thigh. the sensation feels so vivid that it pulls you deeper into the dream, and as you glance down, you instantly recognize the large, familiar hand resting there.
jeongguk’s hand. his left one. on the fourth finger, a gold ring.
when you lift your head, his face greets you with a wide, unusual smile. his hair is wet, slicked back as if he’s just come out of the water, droplets clinging to the tips.
but the softness of the look he gives you is replaced by something more dangerous, more daring. he bites his lip, and you see it.
a double piercing sits on the side of his mouth, the silver studs gleaming as he plays with them using the tip of his tongue. your breath catches in your throat. you don’t just see it there.
on his eyebrow, a matching piercing catches the sunlight, giving him a rebellious edge.
you remember them from old pictures areum showed you once. jeongguk, in his younger days, rougher, wilder, and undeniably charming.
it must have left a deep impression on you because your subconscious has dug it up now, weaving it into this dream. deep in your slumber, you unconsciously whine.
his hand kneads the soft skin of your leg, and his grin stretches wider, eyes crinkling into familiar crescents, but with an edge you’ve never seen on him before.
"you wanna take another bath?" his voice is husky in your ear, filled with suggestion. he’s leaning in now, closer, his fingers drawing lazy circles on your skin.
your throat feels dry, your pulse quickens, and before you can say anything, his hand slides higher, fingers grazing the hem of your swimsuit. his breath fans over your face, and suddenly, the sea behind you isn’t the only thing that feels like it's burning.
"come on. just you and me."
before you can even think to answer, your surroundings shift. the beach, once hazy and peaceful, morphs into something more private.
you’re no longer in the open air, but sitting at the border of his pool, both your feet grazing the warm water.
jeongguk’s hand is still playing with the laces of your bikini, and he’s slow and teasing as he pulls one of them. when he fully undoes it, you’re bare in front of him.
but he doesn’t look down just yet. he keeps staring in your eyes, his smile gone now, replaced with something more serious, more focused.
jeongguk leans closer to your ear, his lips brushing your lobe, and it feels way too real when he whispers, “let me make you feel good.”
it’s with a jolt that you wake up, the low sound still echoing in the depths of your brain, and you struggle to take in your surroundings at first.
on your right, areum is sleeping soundly, even snoring softly. you'll tease her about it in the morning.
but if the thought initially puts a smile on your face, it morphs into a frown when you register the reason why you’re now awake, and you brim with guilt.
you have to get away from your best friend. need to get away from your brain, if possible. wash it all with a glass of cold water.
you make sure not to cause too much noise as you slowly sit up, the covers falling from your figure and the air welcoming you with goosebumps on your skin.
your naked feet tentatively touch the ground and you force yourself to stand on them, padding on the floor and exiting the room, gently closing the door behind your shoulders.
at first, you only hear it. faint, muffled noises; fussing; heavy panting; groans.
you blink rapidly, convinced your hazy brain is still cozily wrapped around the blankets, finding it hard to let go of the images that had flashed behind your eyelids and adapt to the new state of consciousness.
but as you make your way to the stairs, the sounds get closer, and more vivid. it’s not just your mind playing evil games, anymore.
it’s shushed moans, and eager whines. and they seem awfully close to how you’d always imagined mr. jeon would sound like. in that situation.
having lost control over your own brain a long time ago, it feels like you’re now being ordered around by it, no freedom of choice whatsoever.
your feet move on their own, following the source of that delicious music, and you swear your eyes get teary with joy when you find that the door was left ajar.
you feel delirious. the small gap is more than enough to give you a view into what you never thought you’d have the honor of witnessing: the man of all your desires has his hand wrapped around the base of his cock, squeezing it, then dragging it up and down in slow movements that you just know are torturing him, from the way he harshly bites his lower lip, to the way his furrowed eyebrows almost meet at the bridge of his nose, eyes focused on his doings.
nonetheless, he loves it. his mouth opens every time he brushes the tip of his thick dick with his palm, releasing small whines, followed by quiet moans when he uses his other hand to play with his balls.
he cusses repeatedly, then grips his base and halts his movements. only to go over the punishing pattern again, bringing himself closer to the edge then retraining when he feels like stepping over it.
the sight of mr. jeon edging himself makes your knees weak. it takes over you physically, you genuinely have to find support in the wall beside you.
you need to be there with him. you need it to be your hand; need him to guide it just the way he likes it; need him to teach you how to please him. his groans make your head spin, and you need to get closer.
you’re not thinking when you instinctively take a step towards the slightly open door, but when you do, the floor cracks under you.
you’re paralysed. in the silence of the house, wrapped in night time, the otherwise small sound is amplified, and he stops his hand.
with the little power you still possess over your actions, you move your back to the wall beside the door. your breaths are ragged, too overwhelmed with the mixture of fear and lust, and you think of running away to hide but a huge weight is chaining you down, and you find yourself unable to move.
you can only register fussing from the other side, the soft thump of his feet on the floor and the door opening alarmingly. when he looks to the side, he’s met with his expression mirrored on your small face, your eyes wide but willing themselves to keep looking in his.
if you were to look down, you’re not sure you could keep yourself composed, knowing his cock is hard and unattended in his pajama pants.
“___? what are you doing up?” his voice quickly takes on the calm that characterizes him so well, instilling some of it in your startled figure.
still, you stutter all throughout your answer, making it clear what you just spied into with the way your face changes color, “i— water. i wanted— there’s no, huh, water in the fridge.”
mr. jeon does a weak job at hiding the confused amusement on his features. nonetheless, he nods, a small grin on his lips while he says nothing, just walks to the stairs and makes his way down them. you follow hastily, careful not to trip.
there’s plenty of water in the fridge, but he doesn’t question it. he takes out a bottle and pours a glass for you, sliding it over the counter.
you take the smallest sip, afraid you might choke with the way he stands facing you, staring so intensely into your orbs.
when you put the still full glass down, he smirks. you see his hands gripping the edge of the table in front of him, “nightmare?”
the depth of his voice translates into heat pooling right in your lower stomach and staining your shorts. you’re a mess just from the blurred sight of him. you shake your head, “more like… a weird dream.”
he smiles fondly, having to break the prolonged eye contact and look elsewhere, his grip getting tighter and his patience wearing thin.
he won’t be able to control himself much longer if he doesn’t get out of this kitchen, especially with the effects of your effortless charm flooding down his pleading dick.
you’re in front of him, eyes full with a feeling that scares him, only the counter dividing your bodies, and you’re wearing the tiniest satin shorts paired with a white tank top that leaves little to the imagination, the cut dangerously low and your nipples evident through the material.
he’s a gone man.
his eyes no longer anchoring you, your gaze automatically travels to where you shouldn’t be looking, for your own sanity. but the outline of his cock is so delicious, it makes your mouth water with want.
you’re not sure if it’s your own eyes deceiving you, but you swear you can see it throb, and at that moment you realize he’s not wearing any underwear. just thin, loose pants covering his length.
you gulp, clenching around nothing. you feel him sigh, and the sound makes your head spin with greater force.
he looks back at you, but you’re too enthralled by your current view, the effects of it almost completely shutting out your hearing and your rational thinking, as you round the counter and leave his words hung in the air, “i’m sorry for… what you probably saw. should’ve closed the door.”
apology silently dismissed, or simply ignored (why would he even apologize for blessing you with such an unforgettable sight?) you now stand next to him. as he turns to you, you’re faced with his chest, and you have to bend your head upwards to meet his curious eyes.
your body has long forgotten to trust the thin amount of rationality that could still be found in your brain, and that’s how you find yourself leading your hand to cup his cock through his pajamas.
his face is stoic, staring at you intensely. he doesn’t startle, doesn’t gasp, doesn’t move away. but you feel him. if the contact does something to him, he doesn’t show it. he keeps looking down at you, in your eyes.
then, he speaks, his voice steady, “what are you doing.”
you’re suddenly aware of your actions, and you fall victim to them, feeling small because of his stern, composed gaze while you melt under it.
your voice is frail, barely a whisper, too weak to sound as convinced as you truly are, and your words come out slurred, “wanna help you.”
he doesn’t break, doesn’t seem affected by your desperation, but his pupils are blown out, knuckles white from grasping the counter, “you already did enough.”
your hand is still on his dick, unmoving. no one dares break the moment, though. if anything, being this close to him, feeling him while you both search for something in each other’s eyes, is only spurring you further.
you get on your tip toes, your perky nipples brushing against his chest, your voice low while you tilt your head to the side, “what were you thinking of? i’ll be that for you.”
immediately, his hand flies over yours. he doesn’t move it, just holds it still. the look in his eyes is a lot darker, his eyelids droopy, his jaw clenched, “stop this.”
the electrifying spark that buzzes you the moment you feel his skin travels from your hand to your whole body, and it significantly weakens you.
you don’t know if you fall to your knees because they genuinely give up on you, but it’s how you find yourself facing his hardness, your eyes never leaving his glossy ones, highlighted by the dim light shining through the curtains of his kitchen.
“___. get up.” there’s a tremor in his voice, and the hand that was blocking yours now falls by his side, twitching.
you see it in his eyes. sense it in the tension of his muscles. he’s holding back. but you don’t want him to resist you.
“please,” your beg is muffled and quiet, your nose brushing against his length and following a torturous path that makes him hiss.
he groans deliriously, willing himself to tear his orbs off your big, pleading ones staring up at him, but he doesn’t do anything to move you away.
“fuck,” the chuckle that follows is feverish, his body on fire with the forbidden, but so wanted touch, “don’t make me have to reject you, doll.”
“you don’t have to,” you’re unexpectedly quick in your answers, your conscience coming back to you but letting it be taken over by a dark feeling, the one that makes you kiss his tip through the thin material, and lick along his length, finding his eyes, “i want you.”
jeongguk inhales, his lower lip bleeding with the harsh biting, and he swears his knees are shaking with the effort of keeping even the slightest, thinnest thread of sanity intact.
he wishes he could stop you. knows he should. but he can’t. he can only watch as your slim fingers hook under the hem of his light pants and lead them to pool down his ankles.
the way his cock springs free and brushes your smooth, pure face makes him huff out a deep exhale, his jaw clenched and eyebrows furrowed as he takes in your eyes widening at the sight of his length.
mr. jeon is long. and thick. he’s veiny, and perfectly shaved. it looks almost unrealistic, but he’s in front of you in all his glory and he throbs. leaks pretty precum to coat his angry tip.
he doesn’t know how he manages to speak, especially when you look up at him through your droopy eyelids, pupils blown and tongue ready to take him.
his voice is rough, as if it wants to stay stuck in his throat, but he forces one last warning out, “___. don’t do it.”
any and all kinds of inhibitions are nonexistent the moment you attempt a kitten lip at his wet tip, and the simple action makes his head fall backwards, a way too loud growl escaping him.
his breaths are heavy, broad chest moving with them as he looks down at you again, too tempted to look elsewhere.
he curses as soon as he does, his lust-filled orbs swimming in your equally craving ones, and he believes this view is crafted by the hands of a god, not slightly comparable to anything his mind came up with back in his room, not too long ago.
the reason why he’s gotten rock hard under his covers, it’s you. the yearning he couldn’t suppress anymore, the hunger making him salivate, the need to be consumed by your love, the desire to be touched by you, to be cured by your innocence, only to taint it.
he’s thirsty, wants to drink all of you in. wants to finally have you, taste you, feel you. he’s tired of fighting it.
jeongguk doesn’t know how to decipher his heart doing literal flips in his chest when you fully take his cock in your mouth, and he lets out a sound he’s never heard his own self ever produce.
it’s high-pitched, whiny, delirious, and it leads himself to subtly push himself forward, to bury his length in your throat.
you inevitably choke at the new sensation, your eyes fluttering shut to keep the tears welling up under your eyelids from spilling out, but you go relentlessly, just as hungry.
you tentatively bob your head up and down his length, messily taking him as best as you could, probably accidentally scraping him with your teeth a few times, and you try to make up for it with your swirling tongue, slurping thirstily.
he almost coos at your eagerness, and as badly as he wants to bask in the sensation, having to keep himself from pounding into your mouth, he holds your silky hair in a ponytail and gently pushes you away.
when you find him again, your eyes are glossy and your eyebrows drawn up with worry.
you don’t want this moment to end. you don’t want your insecurities to be proven right, don’t want him to ward you off, to still think of you as nothing more than a childish girl with an evident crush. you’re on your knees for him to finally see you.
jeongguk instantly reads your thoughts.
his voice is quick to sooth you, a sweet smile painting his face with an expression you rarely see on him. it’s soft, just like his voice, “come up here, angel.”
you want to listen to him, want to follow his every order. but you’re not sure how to when he’s regarding you with a care you’d never thought would be directed at you, one that empties you of any strength. when the pet name rolling off his tongue that easily seems so natural, you want to think it’s all he’s ever seen you as.
with a delicate tug at your hair, he leads you on your feet again. but you’re weak, your chin falling on his chest as you look at him through your lashes like he’s hung every single star in the sky.
his hand leaves your locks only to cup your face, promptly helping you stand straight to study your features.
if he didn’t know better, he’d say you’re high off the strongest substance you could find. your pupils cover your orbs in a dark, wide circle, a lazy smile on your pink lips as you let yourself be handled by him, no control over your body, almost falling over his bigger one again before he steadies you by your hips.
he lets out an amused chuckle at the state you’re in because of him, and he hopes you know just how much you’re affecting him, too. he wants to swallow you, pill after pill, overdose on you.
when he’s sure you don’t need his help keeping you still anymore, leading your palms to rest on his wide shoulders, he takes your face in his big hands and forces you to swim in the intensity of his gaze.
his words are spoken slowly, a low whisper fanning over your lips, “if i kiss you now, i won’t be able to control myself anymore.”
your eyes jump relentlessly between his own orbs and his mouth, the latter winning the battle when you fixate on it, and speak just as weakly, “please, kiss me.”
you barely manage to get the words out before jeongguk is all over you. he devours you, pushing your lips open and finding your tongue, playing with it in a mess of slick and heavy breaths.
his fingers travel through every angle of your body they can find, pulling your face impossibly closer by your nape, leaving goosebumps along your bare arms wrapping around his neck, falling down your torso and squeezing harshly as they rest by your sides.
your moan is inevitable when his palms reach down the curve of your ass and shove you against him. you feel his hardness meet the softness of your lower belly, his wet tip poking at it and making him hiss on your lips.
he does his best to swallow all your sounds, your muffled whines and whimpers his favorite meal as of now. it’s a wince of slight pain that you let out as he positions you in between his body and the counter, the border pressing on your lower back.
when he moves from your kiss, even with your lungs being unable to breathe anymore and begging for a break, your head follows his movements to try and bring him back on you again.
the chuckle he lets out is almost belittling, the right side of your face being completely engulfed by his palm to put distance between your mouths, his other hand keeping you still by your waist, and his own hips push against you.
you quickly glance down to where your bodies meet, and you whimper when you take in the way his cock is just above your core, his balls brushing against your clit. you only need to lift yourself a little forward to fully feel him.
but it’s like he instantly knows what’s making your head spin, his grip tighter but still mindful not to hurt you. the sudden squeeze has your eyes finding his, feeling ridiculously smaller under the weight of his heavy gaze.
he makes sure you keep your whole focus on him, and as much as registering the way your orbs are glossy with anticipation and desire is making him almost regret his next words, he lets them out, steady but soft, in your face.
“you had your fun, baby. now, you’re going to listen to me. hm?”
this time, your reaction comes promptly following his request. you’re hanging from his lips, tracing their every move and sound, immediately nodding at the order.
but it’s not enough, and jeongguk ensures to sound a bit firmer, ”use your words.”
”yes, mr. jeon.”
the way your response rolls off your tongue with seemingly no hesitation, your pupils still on his, the words you choose to say, make him let out an amused chuckle.
your eyes widen, and he drinks in your state, cheeks flushed and lower lip trembling. you need to bite it in order for it to stop shaking when he narrows his eyes, his left palm rising from your hip and finding its way under your top, his remark making you startle, ”you’re such a bad girl. aren’t you?”
jeongguk makes up for the way more tears seem to well along your bottom lashes by cupping your small breast in his larger hand, swirling his thumb around your nipple, and you need to fight against the loud moan traveling its way up your throat, the chocked sound getting stuck as your mouth hangs open, your eyebrows furrowed.
but it only takes some more of his degrading tone for you to let out an unashamedly loud noise, his fingertips pinching your nipple, ”calling me that only because it gets you off. doesn’t it? you’re not so innocent after all, princess.”
he quickly swallows your sounds with his lips on yours, and both of you can’t help but hum lowly at the contact. jeongguk thinks he could keep kissing you for hours on end. but he badly wants to feel every other inch of your body, too.
unexpectedly, the kiss gets broken when he turns your body around with ease, your back now pressing against his front, and you steady your shaking figure by planting your hands on the counter.
the access to your ear comes effortlessly, he just needs to bend his head down to cover your height difference and make sure his whispered words meet you as close as possible, “i’ll give you what you want. but you need to be quiet and good for me, understood?”
you’re not sure if you should use your voice or stay silent, but your body doesn’t give you the chance to ponder over it before letting out a whiny yes. you’re not exactly being quiet, but can he blame you?
the man you’d get to talk to for more than five minutes only in your dreams is now promising you he’s going to give you what you want. and his cock is perfectly nestled in between your ass cheeks. you’re positive you’ll have to throw your shorts right in the bin after he’s done with you.
though, the scoff resounding in your ear makes you regret not even trying to lower your volume. you really want to be good for him. don’t want to disappoint him.
that’s why when he taps two fingers under your chin, without him having to express it for you, you part your lips open, tongue out. from the corner of your eye, you see the side of his face scrunched with a long dimple before he shoves the digits inside your wet mouth.
you instantly wrap yourself around his thick fingers, coating them in your warm slick, and you can tell it’s affecting him with the way the hold on your hip tightens, and he shifts between your thighs.
with your tongue swirling around the two digits, your eyes search for his face. looking up at him through your lashes, you clench around nothing when you take in the effortless way he towers over you, his body engulfing your whole smaller figure.
the sinful eye contact leads him to spur you on further, his voice rough with desire, “that’s right. suck on them like you would my cock.”
you hum deeply at the encouragement, fluttering your eyelids shut as you energetically bob up and down along his fingers. you think you can still feel the taste of his precum lingering on your tongue, and you whine, wishing you could have him again.
the noise gets cut from your throat when he forces his digits out, the slicky sound lustful, and it makes him groan lowly.
with his other hand, he delicately pushes your head forward to bend you over the marble counter, the same one where hours ago he passed you his glass of wine to take a sip from.
the surface is cold against your cheek and he’s out of your vision as he stands straight. not being able to see what he’s doing, the expression on his face as you lay folded for him, makes the anticipation flood even stronger in your veins.
you feel him pull your shorts down enough to reveal yourself to him, hear him hiss as he’s enthralled by the way your pussy glistens, all for his eyes to admire.
the curse that follows is instant, “fuck. no panties?”
you’re embarrassed for your straightforward bareness, whimpering at his surprise with your fist tightening and your nails imprinting crescents in your palms, but you’re also so impatient to feel his touch.
tentatively, you wiggle for him, hoping to brush against his length, but it’s to no effort as he instantly stills your movements with a hand on your lower back.
he scoffs incredulously, feeling your bare ass against his palm, “it’s like you knew this would happen. you dirty, naughty girl. always giving me those eyes.”
it’s light, the spank that meets the side of your butt, but you gasp nonetheless. you need to bite your lower lip harshly in order to suppress the loud moan from escaping your throat, and you’re sure it bleeds when he softly strokes the spot he hit.
the hand soothing you now travels to your front, torturously putting pressure on your sensitive stomach and following a slow pattern, only to reach your wet core.
he finally touches you where you’ve been needing him the most, and you both groan when he uses his already soaked pointer and ring finger to spread your lips, his middle one tracing your slit.
you inhale deeply as he repeats the motion, and when you exhale you can’t help small whines from leaving you, the pleasure already too overwhelming.
you feel like passing out when his body weight presses on you again, his mouth directly on your lobe, the intention in his voice dripping on your skin, “you think i wouldn’t notice? you know how hard my cock gets everytime i see you in these tiny clothes of yours, huh? you’re quite literally the death of me, doll.”
then, it’s like all your senses come back to you the moment he pushes his digit in, and he immediately reaches around you to put his other hand over your mouth the second he sees it opening, your eyes rolling up.
you scream in his palm, the sound muffled with his fingers tightening under your jaw, his body still leaning on yours.
he whispers sweet nothings in your ear and stills his middle finger inside you, getting you used to his presence, “shh, princess. good baby, you’re doing perfect.”
the contrast to his earlier shaming tone only makes you whine more, your eyes squeezing closed to try and keep the noises in. you’re sure you bite his palm when he starts moving inside you, the finger curling tentatively and soon being joined by another one.
you shake your head weakly, feeling yourself reach delirium, and you manage to stammer out, “can’t— can’t do this.”
“you can baby, c’mon. you wanna be a good girl f’me, don’t you?” his tone is still low, warm breath fanning over your nape, and you melt under the sudden change in attitude.
you nod, not because you believe you can actually get through this without your heart failing and the whole neighborhood hearing you in the process, but because you do want to be his good girl.
“say it.”
“wanna be good— your good girl.”
he hums, “that’s right. i need to stretch you out if you want to take my cock.”
you choke in his wrap, now looser around your face, surprised at his words, and you clench hard at the mention of his cock inside you.
you throw your head backwards in search for more of his proximity, and you mumble nonsense, your brain completely melted, “yes! want your dick.”
“i know you do, little one,” with your head nestled between the crook of his neck, his hand now falls to your throat, and he holds you gently by it while his fingers pick up a faster pace.
he’s ruthless as he moves them inside you, effortlessly finding your sweet spot with a curl of his long, tattooed digits, and you whimper at the foreign sensation, unable to moan like you really want to.
you feel like screaming the more he keeps going, the only possible reaction to what is happening to you. one moment ago you were dreaming of this, and now it’s your reality.
mr. jeon is fingering you and calling you his good girl. his large figure is behind your smaller one bent over the counter, his palm around your throat, his hard length pressing against your ass.
the moment he uses his thumb to flick at your clit, you arch your back into him and you hear him fight to suppress a surprised moan.
“shit. you’re so impatient, sugar. dripping around my fingers. wanna taste your sweet juice, can i?” it’s a rhetorical question, hushed slurredly in your ear, because after he lets it out his fingers leave your hole, and find a new home on his warm tongue.
he purposefully moves your chin to make you a witness of his sinful action, humming deeply around the taste of you, his eyes fluttering shut, his digits popping out drenched.
your mouth hangs, your tongue unconsciously peeking out as if asking to be made a participant, but jeongguk only smirks and stands straight once again, his wet hand leaving another light spank on your ass cheek, “turn around, sweets.”
you do as asked, making sure your palms are still steadying your weight on the counter now behind you, afraid your legs alone won’t be able to.
but you soon find out you won’t have to put much effort into that when jeongguk lifts you with ease and sits you on the surface, your slickness meeting the cold marble.
you don’t have to lift your head to look at him anymore, your heights now the same. but finding yourself directly in front of his hardened gaze makes you feel even more intimidated.
especially when he traces your inner thigh, his eyes never leaving yours, “every time you stand up to leave after dinner, you always leave a puddle on my chairs. and i’m left to clean it up.”
you swallow audibly at the accusation, and you can feel your eyes water once again, biting your lips to conceal the shame.
he only grins amusedly at your state, the tip of his tongue coming out to play with his lower lip. the hand on your leg now forces it to move to the side, his face only getting closer to yours, his tone deeper, “i’ve thought about licking it up, you know? but then i always stopped myself, because i knew i’d get to taste your pretty, wet pussy.”
you gasp, a shaky moan leaving you uncontrollably, and your fingers hover over his figure, wanting to find support in him but unsure whether to touch him.
he finds your mouth with a short kiss, almost reassuring, but he’s back to spitting sins the moment he lowers his face between your spread legs, and the way he looks up at you is almost scandalous.
he looks devilish, his orbs visible through his lashes, his tongue wetting his lips. he takes your uncertain hand and places it between his tousled hair, directing himself to you, instructing you how to use him.
he presses a peck above your clit, still drinking in your reactions, his smile wicked, “i knew you’d crumble soon. you little minx. going after your best friend’s dad. so naughty.”
your head is thrown backwards at his words, ones that only add to the pleasure that takes over you when he latches at your pussy, the wet sounds ungodly.
the shame and guilt mixing in the back of your mind generate a profane sense of bliss you’d never think you could reach, and even though deep down you feel dirty being confronted with the truth he sputtered out so easily, you can’t help getting off to it right now.
jeongguk is ravenous as he finds your drenched lips, lapping furiously at them and drinking the juice that continuously drips out.
he flicks the tip of his tongue up and down your swollen clit, and your hand that he himself put on top of his head now tugs at his curls, forcing him closer to you.
he’s trapped, your legs squeezing around his head, his nose nuzzled in your slit, and he can’t stop the hand that reaches to stroke his pleading dick.
you think you hear him mumble something along the lines of taste so good as he teases your hole with his wet muscle, and you’re a gone woman the moment you look down, your eyes fluttering open.
his own are closed, brows furrowed in deep concentration, his nose relentlessly grinding against your sensitive nub, and the way he seems so affected by the act of pleasuring you breaks something inside you.
you feel it begin to crumble when his tattooed hand reaches up to lift up your top just enough to expose your breasts, nipples hardening with the cold air and the stimulation, and they hurt deliciously when he starts kneading at your boobs, fondling them with care.
the deep hum generated from his throat vibrates against you, and the flick of his thumb around the center of your tit matched with the way your clit is being continuously abused unexpectedly leads you to your orgasm.
it’s fast, unannounced, and you find support in his hair, your body taking over your brain and relentlessly grinding against jeongguk’s face, suffocated between you, unable to stop reaching for the heavenly, and so awaited high.
your whines are frantically high pitched, but the moment he feels you cum all over his mouth everything around him disappears except you, and all he cares about is slurping you, drinking you as you let it all out because of him.
he pants, breathless, opening his eyes to witness your climax, to admire you breaking under his doings, chest swelling with pride and a primal sense of protectiveness.
when he hears you whimper the more he keeps sucking on your clit, your slim fingers pulling at his locks, he finally lifts himself up.
on the path he follows to come back up to meet your face, he finds your nipple with a sweet kiss, his tongue teasing your nub, and he smiles against it, teeth gently pinching it, when seeking with his eyes for your reaction he sees your own rolling back.
next, his mouth is on yours, smearing your wetness all over your lips and mixing it with his spit on your tongue, connecting in a frantic, hungry dance.
his forehead is on yours when he breaks the kiss, his breaths heavy, the lazy grin on his face the only thing you can focus on, hanging on his gentle words, “did so good, pretty. came so hard all over me.”
your eyes inevitably fall down to his cock, painfully hard against his stomach, the tip angry and slicked with precum.
you feel your core buzz, kissing him to conceal the unshameful desire building up so fast again, but still you can’t help from mumbling against him, “wan’ you to fuck me.”
the hum of pleasure coming from his throat reverberates on your lips, and he smiles at your confession. even chuckles, one hand resting at your hip and sliding you closer.
“that what you want, baby?” your legs wrapping around him, he kisses along your neck and travels down to your collarbones, leaving small bites to keep himself from marking you like he truly wants to.
he slips his palms under your thighs and lifts you off the counter effortlessly, and you squeeze your hold tighter around him in order to keep yourself balanced.
the new position has his cock perfectly meeting your core, your slit brushing against his tip as he walks you two over the living room couch, his mouth promptly swallowing your whimpers.
when he lays you on the sofa, he straightens himself to fully admire you. you’re sprawled for him, your hair framing your head like a halo, the sweat pearling your forehead adding to your angelic state.
your hands are on either side of your face, fingers dainty and slender, and your tank top is lifted up enough to show him your small breasts, slightly spilling from the sides.
your shorts still rest under your ass, and with a swift motion he fully takes them off you, giving him access to your center.
but the attention is taken away from your wet cunt when he lets his eyes come back up to your face, your cheek resting on your shoulder, trying to hide your embarrassment at his ravenous observing.
he smiles, becoming impatient with the feeling that only grows inside him, and he walks out of his pants still pooled down his ankles, taking off his loose t-shirt and letting it fall on the ground.
your eyes widen at his sculpted physique, now finally in front of you, his buff dimensions intimidating you, especially when your orbs follow his v line and put you face to face with his huge cock, so close to your watering hole.
he teases it with his length, sliding it up and down your slit, then slapping it against your clit. you arch your back, groaning.
“am i the real man you’ve been waiting for? you wanna be fucked by this big man, don’t you?” his sinful words only make you nod dumbly, becoming potty under his control.
at your eagerness, he wastes no time. aligning himself with your hole, he enters you. the stretch is deliciously painful, his tip boldly splitting you open for him.
he knows your wail is coming, so he lowers himself on you to block your sounds with his mouth. but he’s the one that needs to be silenced.
the moment he feels your tightness around his bare dick, he growls. his sounds grow more desperate as he sinks himself deeper, the grip on your waist enough to wreck you, and you’re expecting it to leave a mark.
you hum roughly against his lips, your nails scratching along his shoulder blades in search for any kind of grounding you can find.
it’s too much, his dimensions way oversized for what your hole can take, and the fact that you can’t help but grip him even tighter isn’t helping.
he reads you, your broken whines and the tear falling from your left eye, and the moment he bottoms out he stills himself, his face in the crook of your neck, his nose nuzzling the warm skin in a reassuring manner, “shh, baby. i got you. let me make you feel good.”
the whispered words are the same ones that jolted you from your sleep, the dream almost too real, and paired with his middle and ring finger circling your sensitive nub they cause you to emit a pleasured squeal, your chest arching into his.
at this point, you’re afraid you’re still trapped deep in your slumber. that none of this is actually real, it can’t be.
you’re so convinced that it’s just too good to be true that you test it, scraping your nails harshly in his back, and when he bites the skin under your jaw in protest you gasp shakily.
it’s definitely real. jeongguk is fucking you. almost. not yet.
with the way your clit is being stimulated by his long fingers, the initial sharpness turns into more slick, and you impatiently groan, “fuck me, please.”
one final kiss is left on your lips before he lifts his torso up, his hands roaming along your sides and grasping a hold of your tits.
he teases you with a playful smirk on his face, your disappointed pout only resulting in a devilish chuckle from him as he massages your soft boobs.
but you can feel him throb inside you the more you swallow him in, and you know he’s just as impatient. you buck your hips up in search of friction, and the sudden motion makes the both of you moan.
he’s suddenly resolute as his palms fall to your waist and effortlessly hold you up as he begins fucking into you. with each stroke he picks up his pace, and he’s soon pounding your tight hole wrapping around him.
the two of you soon find out it’s impossible to be quiet. your sounds are stuttered and pornographic, and it makes jeongguk afraid he’s never going to be able to get them off his brain.
his own noises are heavenly, deep growls and surprised whines falling out his pillowed lips, slightly agape in bliss, brows drawn up.
your eyes roll back and never come back, your vision patched, and you think you weren’t build to survive this kind of pleasure. it’s almost deathly when he finds that one particular spot that makes you see stars.
your skin slapping is louder than his hushed speech, but he makes sure the words reach you and translate into wetness coating his length even more, drenching it, making it soaked in your juices, “that’s how you need to be fucked. that’s how my girl needs to be fucked, hm?”
“mhm, fuck, yes!” it’s breathless, but you want him to hear you. you feel yourself get closer just watching him smirk proudly at your state, his pupils blown out.
his palms are back to playing with your breast, kneading it harshly, and you enjoy the way he seems to be hypnotized by the vision, “fuck. love your tits. fit just right in my hand. you were made for me, princess.”
your head is thrown back between the cushions, your legs wrapping around his ass and pushing him even deeper, the anticipated sensation building simultaneously in both of your trembling bodies.
“i’m not gonna last long, baby. this pussy’s too tight. trappin’ me inside it,” jeongguk’s voice is rough, the words leaving him slurredly and all his effort put into snapping his hips against yours, his eyes focused on the relentless in and out motion.
you wail, mumbling nonsense, but at the same time the most sincere words you’ve ever sputtered to him, “it’s yours, jeongguk. f—fucking yours. forever. ah— fuck.”
he hums, feeling you contract around him the more he speaks to you, “that’s it. my pussy to fuck, angel. mine to play with, mine to fill up.”
your eyes widen at his territorial remarks, and when they meet his hazy ones they water with overwhelming ecstasy.
the possibility of his cum filling you up is what does it for you, your nerves undoing once again and making you spasm around his throbbing dick.
he talks you through your abrupt orgasm, praising you for cumming so good all over him, drinking in your blissful sounds and your hips rutting against his.
he’s just as close, and the realization that you came the moment he mentioned painting you in his seed makes him a crazed man, his motions stuttering sloppily, “fuck. aren’t you a naughty one, doll. you really want me to cum inside you? you want it, huh? i bet you do.”
your repeated nodding and the way your body is so pliant in his hold, letting it be completely handled by him with no functioning muscle, pervades his senses with a primal force that he puts all into fucking your sensitive cunt.
he smirks wickedly, “you’d look so pretty. all stuffed. want me to fill up this tight pussy? want my mature cock in so deep you can’t breathe?”
you think you scream at his continuous suggestions, but you can’t be sure when all your senses are clouded, the oversensitivity turning you into a literal doll for him, no power over your actions.
he looks just as fucked out, his lips parting as he basks in the feeling of being in control of you, his eyes fighting to stay open and keep you in his vision.
when he feels you contracting around him in overstimulation, his breath stutters and he feels himself reach the peak, quickly pulling out of you to spill his cum over your naked skin.
you gasp at the sudden emptiness and the warm liquid that keeps falling over your stomach, his cock being pumped in his fist and milked from all he can give you.
you both pant in exhaustion, your legs loosening their grip around him as he dips his weak knees on either side of you on the couch.
he hums when he fully takes in your figure, marked by his cum, and he smiles when he sees your eyelids struggling not to fall.
but you spasm once again when you feel his finger slide over your stomach, the wet liquid being collected, “now, you gonna clean this up for me. open your pretty mouth, baby.”
you don’t even ponder on the request, you just follow the order. your brain is reduced to thoughts that are only related to him, and it automatically complies to anything that he asks from you.
you engulf his digits promptly, swallowing his semen, looking up at him through your lashes and unashamedly clenching at his lazy smirk.
he makes sure every drop of his is collected and sucked by your hungry mouth, smiling when you don’t ever complain, “mh, good girl. get them neat.”
when he’s satisfied, he hovers over your face and finds your tongue in a sensual, slow kiss, both of you moaning at the exchange.
with a sloppy sound, he parts from you only to disappear between your thighs, his eyes mischievous, “gonna clean you up, too.”
you gasp at the feeling of his mouth wrapping around your core once again, slurping your juice and lapping at your inner thighs, and you’re not sure how this is going to help in getting you clean. you only feel yourself becoming even wetter, if possible.
leaving a kiss above your nub, he straightens up with a boyish smile softening his features, and with the fond way he’s looking at you, nobody could tell he just made you cum twice.
he moves your bangs from your forehead, closing the distance between you once again to leave small pecks over your still reddened face, “you did amazing, doll. made me cum so hard.”
you hum contentedly, snuggling closer to him, your body unconsciously gravitating toward his warmth. your hand lifts to thread through his hair, but before you can touch him, he shifts, pulling away.
the warmth he provided vanishes, replaced by the cold emptiness of the couch. panic surges in your chest, washing away any remnants of fatigue. you prop yourself up on your forearms, eyes tracking his movements.
you don’t want him to leave you here alone, bare and vulnerable, maybe a bit confused and uncertain, and deep down deathly scared of whatever will come after this.
your brows furrow, heart picking up a painful speed when you see he’s getting dressed—tossing on his shirt, pulling on his pants. and for a second, your heart clenches with dread. is he leaving?
but then you notice him picking up your shorts from the floor, his expression softening as he walks back to you with that same gentle smile that had made your heart flutter earlier.
relief washes over you.
he handles you delicately, as though you’re something fragile. his fingers brush your skin as he slips your shorts back on, pulling down your top before encircling your waist with his strong arms.
you squeal lightly when he pulls you onto his lap, settling back on the couch with you cradled against his chest. his hands never leave you, securing you to him.
you settle into him easily, sighing in appreciation as the warmth of his body returns, your legs draped across his lap, arms circling his neck.
for a brief, fleeting moment, everything feels like it’s in its right place, like this is where you’ve always belonged. it feels so natural, so easy, being wrapped up in him.
his deep, slow breaths lull you into a state of calm. his chin rests on the top of your head, his hand rubbing soothing strokes along your spine.
you press even closer, breathing him in, feeling like you could get used to this, like you already have. like you’ve always known this is where you should be.
your fingers trace absentminded patterns along his tattooed arm, the one holding you secure under your legs. you feel the need to look at him, to admire the man that marked you as his.
but when you glance up, you’re a bit startled when you notice the shift in his expression. his face is hardened, jaw clenched tight. he’s not relaxed like he was just moments ago. his gaze is distant, staring intently at a spot across the room as if lost in thought.
yet his hands continue to cradle you, almost unconsciously, like holding you has become second nature to him.
but his mind is a whirlwind of emotions, and they only scatter all over the place as he feels you move closer, impossibly so.
you seek warmth, care. nuzzle your fragile body against his for protection, something more that he fears he can’t give you. love.
he once thought he’d drained himself of it, had nothing left to offer. but now, with you in his arms, the smallest spark flickers to life, burning its way up his throat until it feels like it’s going to consume him.
he wants to give in. he wants to hold you tighter, trap you against him, keep you with him. give you love.
but he can’t do that to you. can’t make you go through the same path that took everything from him. not without ruining you in the process.
he knows what comes next. love turns into suffering. it’s inevitable.
and could he survive seeing the look on areum’s face if she ever finds out? how would she react if she knew the truth about what he’s done, about how he feels? about how he truly wants to act upon his feelings?
the thought makes him feel sick, even as his heart beats steadily against yours, comforted by your presence.
but why doesn’t he feel disgusted? why isn’t there shame gnawing at him, making him pull away? there’s only bliss. the sheer joy of having you this close, of holding you like this, makes him forget everything else.
he wishes he could be immature, for once. wishes he was your age, and that nothing truly mattered. that he still could allow himself to make stupid decisions.
maybe then, you’d feel right in his arms, and reality wouldn’t catch up to him.
“jeongguk? are you okay?”
your soft, honeyed voice pulls him from his spiral, and he startles slightly, caught off guard. his eyes meet yours, wide and filled with concern, searching his face for answers.
he tries to hide the storm brewing inside him, forcing a smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “huh? yeah. i’m okay.”
of course, you don’t believe him. an ugly feeling makes space in your stomach, and the weight of everything begins to press down.
you don’t want it to take over you just yet, want to be coddled by the illusion a little more, want to try and believe there’s nothing to be afraid of.
you offer a tentative smile, hoping to ease whatever tension is growing between you. “you… you seem worried.”
“i’m not, baby. i’m just thinking.”
“about?”
“stuff.” his voice is clipped, and the small wall he’s building between you becomes clearer.
the distance stings, and your heart sinks as you try to hold onto the moment that felt so perfect just a second ago. desperate to reach him, you place your hands on his face, tilting his chin down to meet your gaze.
your eyes jump all over his, but you manage a genuine, if small, smile. “you can tell me, you know. you can talk to me.”
one simple, small smile spreading across his lips makes you doubt all of your worries. it makes you want to believe that maybe, there’s truly no reason to be scared. that maybe, this can go well.
“i know,” it’s whispered on your face, his hand coming to play with the hair that frames your cheeks sweetly. “let’s get you to bed now, hm?”
before you can protest, he’s lifting you off the couch with ease, cradling you in his arms bridal style as if you weigh nothing at all. you clutch onto him.
you feel your insides fuzzy with the gesture, and you wiggle yourself closer in his embrace, looking up at him expectantly, “your bed?”
it breaks his heart having to disappoint you, tone firm as he tries to make up for it with his thumb brushing your thigh, “no, baby. you gotta go back to areum’s room.”
“but— but… i wanna sleep next to you,” you plead, your voice small and almost childlike as you pout up at him, hoping to sway him.
he looks away, focusing on the stairs as if looking at you would break his resolve. “we can’t, dove. you know we can’t.”
his words feel like a punch to the gut, and your voice hesitates. “we can’t?”
the silence that follows is louder than any answer he could have given, and it weighs heavy between you, suffocating. there’s no actual explanation to it, and the realization leaves both of you uneasy.
at areum’s door, he sets you down gently, making sure you’re steady on your feet. he’s careful with you, like he always is, his voice low, “go wash up. i’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
“no…”
“c’mon, sweetheart. don’t make this harder.”
you frown in protest, keeping eye contact, but he doesn’t break. his gaze is steady, resolute.
you want to argue, want to push, but the exhaustion settles over you, and you slump, defeated, but you still sway sweetly for him, your hands tied behind your back, “okay… can you kiss me?”
your voice is small, muffled behind your pout as you seek for him with anticipation, a shy smile making its way on your lips.
when he doesn’t move closer, you get on your tippy toes and lean in his direction once again, your eyes almost fluttering shut before you hear him clear his throat, and take an awkward step back.
you’re back on your heels with a thump, the same one reverberating in your chest with your heart falling, your mouth hanging open with confusion written all over your expression.
you go to say something but he’s quicker, his voice solemn, “goodnight, ___.”
jeongguk smiles, but it’s nothing like the ones that took over his whole face just minutes ago on the couch, his eyes full of you. you’re not even sure if you can define it as a smile.
it’s polite, almost too polite, and it only results in feeling tremendously distant from him. he’s completely disconnected from you.
he retreats, long legs carrying him away, his back to you as he slips into his room. the door clicks shut behind him, the sound final, and it echoes in the hollow space.
you stand still, the weight of his absence pressing heavily on your chest. the spot where he left you feels like a grave, your feet sinking into the cold floor as if it’s pulling you under. the warmth he offered, the fleeting sense of safety, is gone, and you’re freezing.
you try to breathe, but the air feels sharp, your throat tight with the effort to hold back the tears welling in your eyes. it’s useless, though.
your bare feet shuffle against the floor, but you can’t move forward. you can’t go back. you can’t do anything except stand there and feel the weight of it all crash down on you.
you’d been so afraid this would happen. how could you have been so foolish? even in the midst of the sweetness, you knew it was too good to be true. a part of you always knew.
and yet, you let yourself believe for a fleeting moment that something real could come from it. that you could be enough.
you’d have done anything to prove it to him. to show him your loyalty, your willingness to make it work. you still would. you’d give him every part of yourself, if he’d only take it. if he’d only look at you the way you want him to.
the full weight of your reality sinks in. in the end, none of it was truly real.
a sob breaks free from your chest, raw and painful. the sound echoes in the quiet hallway, bouncing off the walls that now feel oppressive, like they’re closing in on you. this house, every corner, it’s all stained now, tainted by the lie you let yourself fall into.
and you? you feel tainted, too.
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