#like i love the practical effects used n makeup

[teasodium]

Wanted to do something for mermay and I've been watching the music video for Casual by Chappell a bit too much

[gutsby]

Fake It Til You Make It (Or Drown)

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Summary: Daryl finds out you faked an orgasm. Instead of getting mad, he decides to get even.

Warnings: NSFW. Every TWD character is drunk in this. Unprotected p-in-v. Soiling Michonne’s decorative towels and almost drowning Eugene. Carol-mandated makeup time with Daryl turns to edging and angry sex.

And the Oscar for Best Faked Orgasm goes to…

“Y/N,” Daryl groaned, shooting his load deep inside you.

You arched your back and curled your toes, even let out a sultry little gasp for good measure. Forced your walls to clench around his cock then pulse, periodically—you counted a silent one, two, squeeze in your head every so often and tried to make it so your tremors felt authentic. You practically had this shit down to a science by now.

Women like you weren’t built for quickies. You needed more time to cum, no matter the occasion.

You simply couldn’t and wouldn’t ever make it to climax with fifteen seconds of foreplay followed by Daryl throwing you up against the counter and jackhammering you hard on the edge for three minutes max. This wasn’t a porno, and you didn’t have a clit made of firecrackers.

Men like Daryl couldn’t stand the thought of you not cumming every time you had sex, though, so you sought to ease his mind on the matter during times you knew it was a physical impossibility to reach bliss. A liar you were not, but an occasional teller of euphoric fibs? Hell, you might’ve been tempted to dabble every now and then.

You adored the way he looked down at you when he finished, chocolate locks matted to his forehead and a smile shining bright on his face. He was tender and sweet, always gentle to pry you off of the sink, and he’d be watching you with admiration all the while.

Rick and Michonne’s booze-fueled pool parties had that effect on you both—always scrambling for a spare room to fuck in the second you arrived like you’d forgotten how good the other one looked dressed in swimwear.

Daryl shimmied the bottom half of your lime green bikini back up your legs and patted your rear with affection.

“I think Rick would be proud,” he said.

“I think Michonne would be pissed.”

You glanced down at the lovely little decorative towels Daryl had used as a sweat rag and made a mental note to wash those back at your place. You yelped when Daryl dropped his hand back down to your heat.

“Still sensitive?” he smiled.

“Uh huh.”

You were already trying to slide past his frame toward the bathroom door, where the sounds of the party outside were growing louder each minute. In truth, you knew that spot where Daryl’s fingers had almost grazed would have been a lot more sensitive had you actually just came, and that tell alone would have given your act away. You couldn’t have that, so you quickly pulled him in for a kiss and pushed his hands back up to your hips.

Daryl’s tongue traced the seal of your lips and parted them for a far more passionate kiss than you’d expected. You let his tongue roam anyway, but inside, you felt slightly confused as to why your boyfriend was still so…horny when he’d just blown his load a minute ago.

You moved languidly toward the door as Daryl continued to kiss you. He was touching your waist a little strangely, the more you came to think of it. Maybe frisky from the whiskey?

Your hand reached the doorknob the second his did. Daryl pulled away and let the corners of his mouth twist almost cruelly in a grin before turning the handle and nudging you out.

You shuffled a few awkward steps past the door. Daryl was hot on your heels, hand at the small of your back when his lips returned to your ear—just for a second, this time. He leaned in close, now, and murmured real low:

“I know you faked it.”

Then he pushed you forward again, only for you to trip over your own two feet trying to turn and face him.

“What?” you hissed. Playing dumb.

But if you could play dumb, Daryl was more than happy to play stupid as fuck. He ignored your outburst altogether and waved at someone behind you, pretending not to see you staring up at him with exasperation painting your face.

“Eugene! Swim trunks look great.”

Across the room, Eugene extended a lengthy ‘thank you’ and told Daryl that he, too, was looking snazzy, and you knew better than to try and pry Daryl’s attention away. Reluctantly, you turned around and made every effort not to show your present emotions on your face. In truth, you were nervous as fuck wondering what Daryl might do now that he knew you’d faked your climax.

You could try and make it up quick. Minimize the fallout.

The second Eugene departed, and it was just the two of you standing in the kitchen, you shamelessly reached for the outline of Daryl’s dick in his shorts.

Daryl swatted your hand away.

“My penis only goes where it’s appreciated,” he told you quietly, feigning that same stupid smile that signaled to everyone else who might pass by that things were fine.

They weren’t. Daryl probably hated your guts right now.

His seed was still dripping from your cunt, and you longed for the feeling of having him inside you, whole. But you got the sense that that wasn’t happening any time soon, as Daryl promptly greeted two more familiar faces and obliged you to mingle too. You faced Rosita and Abraham with a thinly veiled look of despair, and you gathered that the former picked up on it pretty fast.

“What’s up?” Rosita asked, pulling you to the side while Daryl and Abe chatted.

“I fucked up bad, like— legitimately screwed the pooch.”

“What did you do?”

You pursed your lips and felt the burn of Daryl’s glare over Rosita’s shoulder, sensing then that you’d probably be better off just keeping your mouth shut.

Hurriedly, you said under your breath,

“IfakedanorgasmandDaryl’sreallymad.”

“Daryl’s mad at what? Why?” Rosita said, shrill as ever.

You wanted to clamp your hand over her mouth, but it was too late. Daryl was quick to find your form lingering on his periphery and took your waist in one arm in a lasso-like motion. You guessed you’d be taken off to the slaughter any minute now—which was just getting chewed out by Daryl or given a half-dozen grumpy looks. You almost would’ve preferred the knife to the throat.

Confirming your worst fears, Daryl raised a beer with Abraham and suggested you all go for a swim.

That sounded like a setup if you’d ever heard one.

Perhaps overwrought with paranoia and a few too many Twisted Teas, you found your feet shuffling as slow as you could toward the thick sliding doors and Rosita at your rear asking what the hell was going on.

You made a big, fat ‘O’ with your hands and shook your head, hoping she’d understand—and Daryl wouldn’t see. It turned out neither of your wishes were to come true in that moment, and your boyfriend only pulled you closer to his side while the four of you strolled outside.

“Real mature,” he muttered.

“You’re one to talk,” you retorted.

“Could we please talk at a level most humans can hear?”

That last interjection was Eugene, sidling up to the group with his floaties already strapped to his biceps. You eyed the man, then his beer, then his bright red flotation devices, and hoped like hell Daryl wasn’t about to start playing drunk trivia now that your genius friend was plastered. Or worse yet, encourage him to swim.

“How many lies does the average woman tell in her life?”

You really needed to start keeping your hopes and dreams to yourself. You glared at Daryl.

Eugene was already devising some half-baked formula in his brain, or else retrieving another far-removed factoid that he’d learned on a game show in 2005, and presently answered Daryl’s question with a quirk of his brow.

“I…can’t say it’s a gender-dependent question, my friend. If I were to make an educated guess I’d give—”

“A million more for men,” Rosita interrupted, flashing a wry smile at Abraham, “Most men lie like they breathe.”

“Amen!” Carol called from the tiki bar. You loved and you hated Alexandria’s grown-up parties sometimes.

“Well maybe— maybe men lie more to get sex, but women lie about sex.” Daryl shot the most conspicuous look in your direction, and you’re fairly certain Rick and Michonne shared a look of, ‘Ah shit,’ simultaneously.

Inside, the two were secretly hoping they’d catch wind from the babysitter that Judith and RJ wanted to be picked up, or else learned that a horde of walkers had laid siege on one of the outer-facing walls, because they knew from experience that these fights never ended well. The last time you and Daryl ticked each other off in public there had come a very loud and very obnoxious karaoke rendition of Fleetwood Mac’s ‘Silver Springs’ sung drunkenly between the two of you, and frankly, no one at the party wanted to see a repeat of that.

You wrested your arm out of Daryl’s hold and took a seat opposite Carol at the bar. Nodding when she offered to pour you some tropical concoction with a lot of rum, then pretending not to see Sasha eye Daryl warily.

“Whiskey dick give him trouble?” she murmured to you.

“You say his brother’s name in bed?” Rosita quipped.

“First off, he’s dead,” you said, before dropping your voice to a whisper, “Second, it wasn’t the whiskey or anything, I just…couldn’t cum, so I faked it. That’s it!”

You figured if Daryl was airing out your dirty laundry for the whole group to hear, you might as well beat him to the punch when it came to your closest friends. You could tell Sasha was trying hard not to smirk.

“That’s…that’s it?” she reiterated.

“Just now,” you mumbled, “Don’t tell Rick and Michonne, but we were holed up in the bathroom an—”

“Anyway, okay, no details but you told a little lie, so what?” Sasha proceeded without a hitch.

Carol waved the margarita she was making in vehement agreement and handed it over to you. Telling you to drink, now, with her eyes as soon as she caught a glimpse of Daryl’s disgruntled expression across the way.

“Yeah, so what? You told a fib to keep his ego intact, what’s the harm?”

“I’m saying!” You pointed to her before taking a sip.

“I think honesty is the best policy,” Daryl declared out loud like he’d just discovered the Atlantic.

At his side, Eugene eyed him up and down as if to say, ‘What the fuck are we talking about?’ You surmised that probably only half the group understood what was going on between Daryl and you, but most got the gist that the two of you were beefing. Again. Carol proceeded to drain her piña colada like her life depended on it, and Abraham and Rick suddenly gained interest in something inside.

Daryl wasn’t backing down. In fact, he raised his voice.

“And if she’s willin’ ta lie once, who knows how many other times she—”

“Be fucking for real,” you rolled your eyes, “I wasn’t faking most other times, and you know it.”

“Most times? So ya did it other times?”

“Folks, I cannot say with utmost certainty that this is a healthy coping mechanism for a relationship like y—”

“Shut up, Eugene.”

You could tell just how incensed Daryl was by the color of his cheeks. In a world that almost never raised the hue above a baby pink, you were alarmed to see him turn a shade or two shy of crimson. You knew something lewd or unkind was likely to flare behind those cobalt eyes any second now.

“How many times for Spencer, then?” Daryl growled.

He knew that shit was off-limits. A happenstance situationship that started and ended long before you’d ever dated Daryl. Now he was just being mean.

“Alright, guys, how about we take a second to cool off?” Michonne was using the same voice she assumed whenever trying to talk Judith or RJ out of a cranky mood. You saw Daryl already had the insolent pout of the children down pat, that was for sure.

“Maybe if you’d asked Leah she would’ve said the same,” you spat.

Daryl abandoned his beer and moved closer to you, just narrowly checked by Sasha’s warning touch and even more persuasive gaze. He paused for a second, crinkled his nose, and seemed to be considering something a moment or two longer before finally deciding to be petty.

“At least I didn’t have to ask Leah to swallow.”

That was it. You reared back and chucked your bright pink strawberry marg directly at Daryl’s head, unleashing a string of unsavory names as you did so. Daryl easily side-stepped, and the next in line to receive the airborne drink was Eugene. Completely defenseless, per usual, and not at all prepared to be hit in the face by a plastic glass filled with syrup, liquor, and slush, the man was a sitting duck.

He shrieked the second it struck him below the eyebrow. His hand clamped over his eye, and he stumbled back a few steps.

“Eugene!” came more than one voice, including your own.

The mulleted man wailed and spun perilously on his heels, trying blindly to make a beeline for the house but ending up walking straight into the pool ahead of him. Your whole party jumped to their feet and scrambled after him.

Apart from the aid of his arm floaties, the man was completely unable to swim—and still blinking fiercely through a sheet of strawberry-flavored ice as he flailed about in the water and cried for help.

Sasha, Rosita, Michonne, and Daryl didn’t hesitate; all four dove head first into the pool to save their friend.

Two hours had passed, and you and Daryl were still in time-out—courtesy of Carol and Michonne.

Deprived of your right to drink, smoke, fight, or fuck (at least not with condoms), you and your boyfriend had been placed in indefinite non-solitary confinement sitting perched outside the hot tub with instructions to make up, or else. So far, no words had passed between the two of you, and it had just started to rain.

Daryl waved to the kitchen window, where Carol was watching you both with narrowed eyes.

“Can we come inside now?” he groaned, motioning to the storm clouds overhead.

Carol gave him one emphatic thumbs down and turned to stir her broth on the stove.

This was your group-imposed “getting along” punishment: stay outside until you make amends. You kicked your feet in the bubbling water and cursed yourself for ever thinking it was a wise idea to stroke a man’s ego and fake an orgasm in the first place.

Then you lowered yourself into the water, seeing as there was not much else to do.

“Ya tryna be human stew? Get out,” Daryl snapped.

“Great, maybe Carol can throw me in her soup and I won’t have to continue this stupid fucking conversation.” You knew the dangers of swimming in a rainstorm, but you didn’t want to give Daryl the satisfaction of knowing you’d stop for his sake. You sank deeper into the hot tub.

Daryl slid across the wet slab of rock and concrete and reached for your shoulder.

“Quit bein’ difficult.”

“Quit being pushy,” you said with an ineffectual splash in his direction. His fingertips still seared hot on your skin as he touched you just above the shoulder blade.

“Oh, was I also bein’ pushy—” Daryl cut himself short.

You looked up, curious. Still refusing to budge.

“Pushy when?”

“When you took your pretty ass outta this tub before you got struck by lightning.”

Daryl received an unamused scowl in return. When you pressed again, he bent down and took you underneath both armpits, hauling you out of the hot tub with infuriating ease.

“Or when I…wanted to have sex and you clearly didn’t.”

Ouch. You jumped back in the water with an even deeper frown.

“I still wanted to have sex, Daryl! I just couldn’t get off as quick as you.”

“So you lied.”

You hastened to the other side of the mini pool when Daryl climbed inside. Your back flattened on the rock, and your eyes shot him a critical look as if to say, ‘I ain’t coming out.’

“Technically, you never asked,” you shrugged.

Daryl scoffed and straightened his own posture on the opposite end of the hot tub, feigning amusement but likely inflamed with irritation inside.

“I touched— I rubbed your pussy to see if you were sensitive. Don’t that mean somethin’?”

“Means you didn’t ask me shit. I never said I came.” You folded your arms across your chest in defiance, but deep down, you knew that a lie by omission was still a lie. Daryl’s facial expression communicated as much as he swam in your direction.

“So you couldn’t…ask me to wait a little longer to help you finish?” Daryl approached you close enough to graze your knees, so you felt obliged to press yourself harder against the wall, “Ya know I’d eat the cum out yer pussy if I knew it’d get ya off, sweetheart.”

Indeed, you knew. You should’ve known better than to accuse him of selfishness or inadequate communication—Daryl was a generous lover, and one who was always willing to wait, whether that meant delaying his climax or putting a pause on sex altogether. You felt an unlikely shiver in the boiling hot water when your boyfriend’s frame slipped between your legs beneath the surface.

“Even if I’d finished first, ya know I’d lick ya clean and make that pretty pussy cum all over my face an’ fingers. Ya do know tha’, right?”

He wanted to hear you say it. His hands had just started to trail a slow course up your legs as you released a shaky breath and nodded your head.

“I know, baby, I just— I just like seeing how riled up and sweaty you get when you fuck me for a quickie. You always seem so…satisfied pulling out I just hate to make you get hard all over again on my account.” Your voice was quieter then, breaking off in the gentlest whimper when Daryl’s knuckles grazed your heat.

Then, with the other hand, he moved your fingers to feel how hard he was under his swim trunks.

“Thought ya knew me better’n tha’,” he tsked you softly as he rubbed your hand up and down the length of his clothed erection, “I’m always hard fer ya, honey.”

You swallowed and sighed the second you felt him throb in your hand underwater. You wanted him now.

When your fingers fumbled for the drawstring of his shorts, however, Daryl nudged your touch away. Brought his own to the bottom of the bright green bikini you were wearing and slipped a digit underneath the fabric.

“This poor little clit,” he lamented, circling just lightly enough to draw breathy mewls from your mouth.

You spread your legs even wider to allow him access. When he pulled you to his chest, you felt his heart thrumming as fast as yours was. The light drizzle of rain overhead was growing heavier by the second.

This was not the makeup session Carol or Michonne had envisioned when they’d sent the two of you off to talk. You and Daryl just happened to make amends a little differently than most—semi-publicly, sometimes.

“Can’t imagine how bad it’s been achin’ since I last fucked that pretty little hole,” Daryl continued, index and middle finger now rubbing lazy circles over the spot where he’d pried your bikini to the side.

You sat, spread eagle with your mouth ajar and your eyes on his. Oh, how he loved you like this: partly supine and looking so pathetic. His fingers worked even faster.

“Been needin’ daddy’s touch, has it?” he teased before moving his digits to your slick entrance. Then, pressing just a finger inside and feeling your walls instinctively contract, “Now tha’s a believable squeeze.”

He smiled and you realized he knew a real clench from a fake one by now. That dramatized show you’d put on for him earlier almost made you feel ashamed now, gathering just how good a proper fingerfucking felt when you actually gave your boyfriend the chance to try.

He pushed another finger inside and curled them both with expert precision. You let out a helpless moan the second he grazed your g-spot.

“Baby, I need it,” you whimpered, “I need to cum so, so badly.”

Daryl nodded as though feeling your pleasure—and pain. He worked a vicious rhythm against your cunt and let a smile spread across his lips the longer he watched you writhe and moan amidst the hot, churning waters. When your stomach started to flutter and your entrance gave a warning pulse, you didn’t even need to inform him of your impending climax; you closed your eyes and prepared for the sweet bliss in expectant silence.

That was, until, Daryl retracted his fingers and climbed out of the hot tub.

Sorely misled ecstasy withered before your eyes.

You whined. Louder than you meant to.

“Daryl!”

Your boyfriend had taken up a spot standing at the side of the hot tub, pretending to be so overcome with heat exhaustion that he just couldn’t stay in a second longer.

He wiped his brow and watched you smugly.

“You say sumn’, sugar?” he asked as he sat down on the water’s edge to plant a kiss at the top of your head.

“You’re sick,” you muttered, dodging any additional condescending smooches by scooting over. When Daryl slowly leaned down toward the water, you scowled.

Then he patted the wet slab of concrete beside him.

“Jus’ want you to cum on my tongue. C’mon.” He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world—clearly he couldn’t eat you out underwater, so he was just being kind to give you a place to sit while he tonguefucked you silly.

You pretended not to notice the smirk twisting at the corners of his lips as you climbed out of the hot tub and reluctantly followed his motions.

Your legs spread just a little, now perched at the edge of the sauna while Daryl sank back in the water and positioned his head perfectly with your core. A sidelong glance to the nearest window showed that Carol had disappeared from the kitchen, but you knew you would have to make this quick.

Without ceremony, you yanked a tuft of Daryl’s wet hair and guided his face even closer to your heat. Far past the point of pleasantries, you pulled your bathing suit to the side and presented yourself, bare as ever, to Daryl’s eager tongue and lips.

Your boyfriend supplied you with both in an instant, dragging his tongue up the whole length of your slit with a groan. Wanting to savor the taste, were it not for your quiet pleas for him to finish this, please, Carol could be back any minute.

Daryl lapped between your folds, happy as ever, and left a series of suctioned kisses on the spots where he knew you needed him most. Gripped your thighs in either hand, pulled your bottoms so far he almost snapped the fabric in half, and practically devoured that needy cunt.

The man was a pussy-eating prodigy, to put it mildly. He dove deep between your thighs like oxygen was the furthest thing from his mind and sucked on your clit as if it were a lifeline. Your back arched out of instinct, legs clamping on either side of his head and chest rising and falling in stuttered breaths. You moaned and felt Daryl’s own grunts join the reverberations shaking your body; for a second, you thought you were almost seeing stars.

When Daryl inserted two fingers and swirled his tongue around that sensitive nub, you were certain that moment was soon to come.

“Mmm, just like that, baby, fuck,” you breathed, rutting your hips ever slightly against his face. Daryl, soaked with your arousal and waves of scalding water, just held his place and kept licking over, and over, and over.

Your grip fastened harsher in his hair the second a pleasant coil pulled tight along your tummy. You planted your calves on either side of Daryl’s neck, braced your body to the concrete, and felt a heady bliss make its second appearance of the night.

A quiet slurp marked the sudden disconnect between Daryl’s mouth and your aching core. You almost fell off the edge of the hot tub as your mind and body both stopped devastatingly short of full climax. This time, you almost shrieked.

“DARYL!”

“Got a tongue cramp. Sorry.”

Too bad he was grinning from ear-to-ear with no trace of a muscle spasm anywhere on his face. You splashed him with a massive wave and went scrambling to your feet.

“Fuck this. I’ve got a vibrator at home.” You were already pulling your panties back in place, muttering some less-than kind words under your breath, and kicking yourself twice for ever believing Daryl was mature enough to treat this as anything other than a game.

“Hey! Baby, wait!” Daryl called after you. Then he was getting up and getting out too.

“You blame me for fucking around, and you— you go and pull some shit like this?!”

You waved a silent, dismissive hand when Daryl started after you, trailing hot on your heels with a look that almost would’ve seemed apologetic had he not been fighting a laugh the entire time.

When his hands landed on your shoulders from behind, you moved to shrug him off and told him, with a finger supplanting your words, to get fucked. You groaned internally when Daryl pulled you in for a tight embrace.

“It’s called edging, sweetheart,” he hummed in your ear.

“It’s called being an asshole and shutting my orgasms down on purpose.�� You wriggled to free yourself from his arms but found the man behind you unwilling to cooperate; in fact, the more you struggled, the more snug his grasp got. You battled against his far superior strength no longer than a minute or two before Daryl plucked you right off your feet and into a bridal hold.

“What do we say when we really wanna cum?” he asked, almost patronizing. Then, as if to put a finer point on it, he ambled toward the edge of the pool and swayed your soft, soaking frame over it.

“You’re fucking crazy!” you hissed, still wrestling against his chest.

You sensed that might not have been the wisest choice of words given your current predicament, but Daryl didn’t seem fazed in the slightest.

“Did I hear a ‘please’ in there?” he asked, rocking you back and forth over the water’s edge.

“Please put me down.” Your voice was low and importunate, eyes warning him just the same.

“O-kay.”

And down you went. Into the pool. Your boyfriend still cradling you in his arms while you thrashed and splashed and called him every profane name in the book.

You’d just swept the wet mass of hair from your forehead when Daryl pinned you to the wall. Your back was flush to his chest, and his breath was hot on your ear.

“Promise y’ain’t gonna fake it this time?” Daryl murmured through gritted teeth, one hand yanking your swimsuit bottoms to the side and the other pulling his own down his hips.

You gripped the side of the pool and cast a quick look to the kitchen. Carol was nowhere in sight, but who knew how much longer she—and everyone else—would be gone? You bit your lip when Daryl dragged the head of his cock between your legs.

“We can’t do this, Dar—”

“I said, are you gonna fake it? Pretty simple question.”

Your folds had already parted with his length in between them, hole pleading for his entry when all he had done was rut his hips in place and tease your slit. You pressed your ass right into him and tried hard not to whine as you sensed your cover could be blown at any moment. Daryl nipped at the skin behind your ear and repeated his question, this time enveloping your frame with his when he bent you over the side of the pool.

Your eyes flickered to the warm glow of the kitchen, and you felt the rain come down even harder—your vision, with the distance and the downpour, was almost totally obscured.

Fuck it.

“Promise I won’t— I swear.” Your voice now scarcely above a whisper.

That seemed to satisfy Daryl well enough. No more than a second later, he was plowing inside you, gripping your hip for support and your hand in his own for what seemed to be encouragement of sorts. You squeezed his fingers back as soon as the first influx of pleasure rolled through you.

“Quiet, quiet for me, baby,” Daryl warned close to your ear, gaze scanning the house for any new onlookers, “Jus’ stay. fuckin’. quiet.”

He wasted no time railing you from behind—an impressive feat for a man standing halfway underwater—and simultaneously kept a lookout for your friends inside. Before him, you’d folded like a lawn chair over the wet concrete, yielding to each thrust like you were born for this position and made to take his cock. Then your walls clenched around him, whimpers came loud and fast, and the rain beat a shrill cadence all around.

Daryl dropped a hand to your clit and smiled the second you whined and almost bucked him off. Finally, that sweet sensitivity was back.

He knew from two false starts and more hard edging than you ever would have liked to endure, you wouldn’t last long. You felt a pressure on your neck bringing you up to his chest and those same, ardent lips almost charring your skin when they pressed above your ear:

“Who’s a good girl?”

Another sharp thrust in your cunt.

“I am,” you cried, clawing at his wrist the second his fingers started tightening around your throat. Almost unable to bear it, but loving it all the same.

“Gonna be honest with daddy ‘bout those orgasms?” Daryl chided, “Make a mess of daddy’s cock like yer s’posed’a?”

You nodded as best you could with your throat trapped in his hold and your lips damn near turning blue the second he got to kissing them. Your back arched into his chest, and your body convulsed with pleasure the deeper he went. Daryl loved the way you watched him as he did.

That was what he’d missed. That was what he knew you couldn’t muster in your piss-poor performances of late, what had tipped him off to the truth of your euphoric state with times like today. This was what he needed to see every time he fucked you from now on—if he had to spend a lifetime or two trying to get you there, so be it.

Daryl caught your lips in a long, heated kiss before bottoming out inside you. The sharp nudge to your insides and the brush against your most delicate spot was more than enough to push you over the edge.

Bliss broke through your body like a bat out of hell, and your moans rang loud in Daryl’s mouth as he fucked you through it. And, sadistic motherfucker that he was, he actually smiled when your teeth sank through his lip and drew blood from the surface.

All he cared was that you came, no bullshit this time.

As a metallic tang and an ecstatic trance washed over you, your body went limp in Daryl’s arms. He pulled out, still hard, and rubbed a hand over your ass underwater.

You could feel him beaming with pride right behind you.

But, just when he moved to turn you around, a sight in the bushes sent your heart in your throat. One dark patch of foliage shook with unusual force a few yards away, and you heard some sticks break as someone, shielded by leaves, appeared to lose their balance.

Daryl’s grip on you locked, then tightened, then dropped altogether when a clumsy form came tumbling out.

“EUGENE!”

[pickingupmymercedes]

Sexual love - Lewis Hamilton

Part of 1K Jukebox Event

song: Sexual love - Maeta - @goldenroutledge

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

genre: fluff (i know i said it before, but this one is really simp Lewis)

wordcount: +1k

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

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The room buzzed with activity, the air thick with the scent of hairspray and perfume as the stylists flutter around me, making final adjustments to my hair and makeup.

I can see the way they glance at me through the mirror, a few murmurs here and there about how the dress is coming along, but I’m honestly barely paying attention.

My focus is on Lewis—leaning casually against the doorframe, hands in his pockets, eyes locked on me like I’m the only thing that exists in the room.

And maybe to him, I am.

I try to ignore the way his gaze burns into me, the warmth of it creeping up my spine, settling low in my stomach.

He’s always looked at me like that—since the very beginning. You’d think by now, I’d be used to it. That I’d have built some kind of immunity to the intensity in his eyes, the way his stare alone can undo me, piece by piece.

Yeah, no. It still makes me feel like I’m twenty again, like I’m standing in front of him for the first time, unsure if I can handle everything that comes with being loved by him.

The stylist steps back, brushing a few stray strands of hair to the right place, and I catch my own reflection for the first time since I stood up.

The dress hugs me in all the right places, a deep open back, with off white complimenting my skin tone.

But when I glance up again, catching Lewis’s gaze in the mirror, the heat in his eyes tells me he’s seeing something else entirely.

Something that’s making his hands twitch at his sides, his jaw clench like he’s holding back.

The corner of my mouth twitches up, a small smile breaking through. Oh, he’s gone tonight.

I take a slow breath, lifting one shoulder in a mock stretch, just to see what it does to him to see my back muscles. His eyes darken, and I feel a thrill knowing I still have that effect on him.

God, it’s intoxicating. I could have a whole team of people in this room, and it still wouldn’t matter. The only person who matters right now is Lewis, standing there, devouring me with his eyes.

I slide my hands down the sides of the dress, smoothing out the fabric, my fingers grazing my hips as I shift slightly. His gaze follows the movement, and I can practically feel the restraint in him.

His body language, the heat radiating from him, the way his eyes are glued to me—it’s all speaking loud enough.

“Y/n, I’m going to grab the other options for you,” the stylist says, interrupting my thoughts.

I nod, murmuring something polite, but my mind is elsewhere—on Lewis, on the way I can feel his presence like gravity pulling me toward him.

As the stylist leaves, I fully catch Lewis taking a step closer, closing the distance. His eyes flicker to my reflection in the full-length mirror, and for a moment, neither of us moves.

It’s just me, him, and the crackling tension in the air.

“You like this one?” I ask, my voice soft but teasing, knowing full well what his answer will be.

He doesn’t respond immediately, but his lips curve into a slow, appreciative smile. “You know what you’re doing, babe.” His voice is low, like he’s holding back something more.

I laugh, but it’s breathy, affected by the way he’s looking at me like I’m something to be unwrapped, savored. “Come on, Lewis. You’ve been staring at me for the last twenty minutes. If you have a preference, now’s the time to tell me.”

He moves in closer, his hands coming to rest gently on my hips, fingers skimming the fabric as he pulls me back against him. The warmth of his chest presses into my back, and I can feel the slow rise and fall of his breath, steady but charged.

“The dress is beautiful,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear. “But it’s not the dress I’m looking at.”

I close my eyes for a second, biting back a smile as I feel his breath on my neck.

He’s impossible when he gets like this—when he’s so consumed by me that it feels like nothing else in the world matters.

“You’re supposed to help me pick, not distract me,” I tease, but my voice is softer now, more vulnerable, because despite the lightness of my words, there’s a part of me that’s overwhelmed by how much I still want him—by how much he still wants me.

“I am helping,” he says, his hands sliding down my waist, fingers tracing the curve of my hips. “This is me helping.”

I turn around to face him, locking eyes, and the way he looks at me—God…

His hands are gentle, but his grip is firm, like he’s holding onto something he never wants to let go of.

“You look incredible, Y/n. Like… I don’t even know how to describe it.” His voice is rough, a sincerity that he rarely lets spill out like this. “Every time I see you like this, it’s like I forget how to breathe for a second.”

I feel my heart skip at his words, and I try to keep my composure, but it’s hard when he’s looking at me like I’m his whole world. “You’ve seen me like this a hundred times, Lewis.”

“Not like this,” he says, shaking his head. “Never like this. You just get better, babe. And I still can’t believe you’re mine. That I get to call you my wife.”

And I know it’s teenager like but it amazes me, how even after all this time, he still sees me. Not just the surface, not just the polished exterior everyone else sees, but me.

The woman who’s stood by him, built a life with him, and even after everything, he’s still in awe.

I reach up, brushing my fingers against his beard, my voice softer now. “I’m still here. We’re still us.”

His hand comes up to cover mine, pressing my palm against his skin as he leans into my touch. “Yeah, we are. And I’m never going to stop being grateful for that.”

It’s just us—this moment, this life we’ve built together. And the fact that even now, after all the years, the highs, and the lows, he still looks at me like I’m everything he’s ever wanted.

“Come on, we’ll be late,” I say softly, though I make no move to step away from him.

He chuckles, his lips brushing against my forehead. “I don’t care if we’re late. Let them wait. Right now, I just want to look at you.”

And I let him—because in this room, I’m not just Lewis Hamilton’s wife. I’m his world. The woman who still makes him weak, who he’ll never stop wanting, and I know—because he won’t shut up about it—that I’ll always be that for him.

______________________________________________________________

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[bg-brainrot]

More than Vampiric Charms (Astarion x Tav)

Featuring: Astarion x Rogue!Tav

Series: Fits into Love at First Knife, AO3 link here

Summary: After some banter between Astarion and Jaheira goes too far, you (Tav) take some time to remind Astarion that he is so much more than a pair of fangs.

Tags: POV Second Person, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Fluff, Comfort, Vampire Spawn Astarion, set in Act 3, Astarion is Bad at Feelings, Blood, Blood Drunk, blood as a coping mechanism

A/N: Thank you to everyone who voted for this banter in my last poll! This was a fun one c:

Word count: ~3.2k

Walking through the streets of Baldur's Gate is always an adventure with your group– a particularly fraught adventure on this day, as Jaheira and Astarion seem hellsbent on trading barbs.

It had started out playfully enough, with a snide remark from Astarion, "Oh that building used to be a delightful little sweets shop about a hundred years ago. Though I suppose the crone would remember that, wouldn’t she?”

Jaheira, used to remarks about her age, often being the one to start them, was ready with a quick quip back, “Was that before or after your hair turned gray? With my old age, I can never remember.”

Astarion visibility bit back a remark about this being his natural hair color when you glared back at both of them. “Could we focus a bit please? You two can reminisce after we’ve seen to this latest bloody basement.”

One trail of blood, a disgusting array of corpses, and a piece of clown later and the two of them were at it again.

“Jaheira,” Astarion had started in a light tone– a clear indicator that he had no intent to focus. “Have you considered taking on the role of Dribbles the clown yourself? The makeup might help cover all those pesky wrinkles.”

The druid had snickered, appreciating the comment, and shot back, “I think you would be better suited to the role, given you are already a fool.”

That time, Karlach had interrupted, “Don’t either of you dare! No one could replace this Baldurian hero.”

“Which is exactly why we’re helping to piece him back together,” you’d confirmed with a nod. “Besides, you’re both cranky enough to make the children weep.”

“Darling!” Astarion had gasped, an offended hand on his chest. “How could you say that about me?”

You’d ignored his question, instead choosing to deposit a quick kiss on his pursed lips. A soft, effective bandaid that left the man with crossed arms and a reluctant smile. 

Moments later, you were ushering the group out of the building and into the city. Insults forgotten, everyone began trudging the familiar path back to the Elfsong to clean up.

Now, along this very path, you hear Jaheira strike up a new conversation with Astarion– one that has your ears perking up, even as you continue to lead the way ahead.

“It seems that you and our leader are closer than ever,” the woman observes, a smile in her voice.

There’s a moment of silence, and you can practically see Astarion’s suspicious expression in your mind’s eye as he assesses the situation. “Yes, you could say that,” he finally replies. “What can I say? I am, after all, quite charming.”

“I am glad it is your non-vampiric charms our friend has fallen for, Astarion.” A short, thoughtful pause follows before she asks, “It is, isn’t it?”

“Of course,” Astarion responds, his voice reaching a comically high pitch– one that almost makes you laugh. You want to hear this conversation more than most though, so not a sound escapes your lips. The vampire scoffs before he continues. "Is it so unbelievable that they would simply like me?"

There’s a clear hesitation as Astarion’s words hang in the air.

You wonder why Jaheira isn’t responding, what her expression must be– but before you can turn around to find out more, Astarion is speaking again.

“If you insist on prying,” he starts, clearing his throat a bit pointedly. “Perhaps you’d care to join us. And see how much we enjoy one another.”

The insinuation in his tone is almost enough to have you spinning around– teasing Karlach or Shadowheart is one thing, but Jaheira? Gods, you can feel the heat rising up your neck– “Why?” Jaheira snaps back. “Do you require some instruction on how the deed is done?”

“I’m sure even I could learn some new tricks from an old veteran such as yourself,” Astarion replies, mirth shining through in his tone.

Wait, is he actually inviting her?

You know you need to stop this conversation before it mortifies you any further. “Stop it, both of you!” you say, turning your head back, trying your best to keep a stern, not-at-all embarrassed expression on your face. “We don’t need the next installment of ‘Love at First Knife’ getting any more convoluted.”

There’s some grumbling from Astarion, an amused smile from Jaheira, and a chortle from Karlach, but otherwise your group makes it back to the Elfsong without tearing each other– or their clothes– apart.

__

That evening, Astarion slips away.

It’s not an unusual occurrence– some days his hunger is harder to ignore than others, on some you hadn’t found nearly enough evil to suck dry. Ultimately, he never wanted to take too much blood from you, so he chooses to forage as he has taken to calling it.

As a result, you think nothing of it at first, settling into bed after dinner with a book propped between your hands. After all, Cazador is dead, and Astarion is more than capable of taking down some of the most fearsome enemies in the city– he should take all the time he needs to himself.

But the hours pass, and Astarion has yet to return. The candles around you begin to dwindle, words begin to swim on a page you haven’t turned in quite some time, and sleep slowly but surely starts to drag your eyelids down.

It has almost claimed you when the door to your shared room at the Elfsong slams shut. You hear groans from around the room as those who were similarly drifting off to bed are shocked awake, everyone expecting yet another unwelcome visitor. You almost don’t have time to react before an armor-clad vampire lands atop of you.

You do react though, instinctively striking at the man with the spine of your book, a loud ‘thwack’ letting you know that your contact was true.

“Oof,” Astarion mutters, now fully splayed across your torso like a stretching cat. “Darling, must you be so violent?”

“Astarion?” you ask, putting down your book, shaking off the beginning throes of sleep as you realize what’s transpired. “Weapons down everyone, it’s Astarion.”

After a few affirmative grumbles from around the room, you turn your attention back to the vampire, “Are you alright? Did you get injured?”

“Mmm,” he murmurs, burying his face in your blanket, and rubbing at the spot where you’d hit him. “Nothing's the matter. Everything is perfectly dandy.”

His words slur though and something seems to be amiss. His movements are fluid, his body weight is completely and utterly relaxed onto you.

Almost as if…

“Are you… drunk?” you haven’t seen him like this since the bear he drank near the grove. When you’d asked him the question then, he’d shrugged it off– but it was certainly the closest to drunk you’d ever seen him.

“Not strictly speaking, no…” he drolls, tilting his head slightly to stare at you with one eye. His cheeks are flushed, a telltale sign of his recent feeding, and his eye is glazed over, its blissful sheen telling you all that you need to know.

“Have a good dinner, did you?” you ask, smiling down at him wearily. You can hardly fault him for indulging, especially after the couple of weeks you’ve had.

He chuckles, his one visible eye crinkling a bit. “Oh yes. A rather large bugbear. Hardly knew what bit him.”

You run a hand through Astarion’s hair, and respond, “Well done, my sweet, bloodthirsty vampire.”

Normally, such sweet words of unabashed ​​flattery would elicit a smile, a laugh, maybe even a kiss– but tonight Astarion freezes under your touch, his eye going wide before he tucks his face back into the bedding.

“Astarion?” you ask, your previous worry about injury now promptly replaced by a worry of a much deeper hurt.

“It’s nothing,” he mutters, voice sounding distant.

You scratch at his scalp, a bit, trying to encourage him back toward you. “Love, you know you’re a terrible liar. What’s wrong?”

He gives a soft, annoyed huff– an endearing, drunken noise were it not for the fact that he seems determined not to look at you. And continue to crush you with the full weight of his body.

“Astarion,” you say again, with a bit more emphasis, shaking his head a little with your next scratch. “If nothing is truly wrong, I will wake up Karlach. You know she would love to see you in this state.” As if to punctuate your point, a snore sounds from a few beds over, where you know the barbarian slumbers.

“Please don’t,” he murmurs, finally turning around to look at you fully.

You’re surprised to see his eyebrows furrowed, his lips turned down in a truly melancholy frown– always an expressive man, it seems that Astarion’s intoxicated demeanor is twice as exaggerated. Cute, you think. But also concerning. “Love,” you whisper, running a hand along his face. “Talk to me.”

Astarion hesitates, his watery eyes wincing as he debates his next words. Those same red eyes show an unexpected amount of vulnerability– all that bugbear blood is keeping his expression open, his entire face a rosy hue. His mouth opens, closes, his body shifts, and he fumbles with the latches on his armor as he thinks. You simply lay there, playing with his curls until he’s ready.

When he finally speaks, his words take you by surprise.

“You don’t just like me because I’m a vampire… do you?”

“What?” you ask, eyebrows raising in disbelief. Surely, you misheard him.

“You know,” he continues, waving a hand about the air. “My vampiric charms. The fangs. The blood sucking. The mysterious allure?”

“Why in the nine hells would you think that?” You reach a hand out to grab his, tugging on it gently to try to get him to sit up.

Astarion’s eyes drift away from you, but he does sit up, legs draping over your stomach. “Just… because of something Jaheira said.”

Oh. The conversation you’d been eavesdropping on.

“Do you mean what she said earlier? On our way back to the Elfsong?” you ask, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Well, yes,” he mutters, still not looking at you. “Though I can’t help but notice you haven’t answered my question…”

“Astarion,” you start, releasing his hand, only to place it on the slightly flushed skin of his cheek. “No, I do not only like you because you’re a vampire.” Your words are firm, leaving no room for misinterpretation.

His eyes meet yours again, and still you can see so much doubt, so much unmitigated fear. “Are you certain? You truly do seem to enjoy it when I bite you.”

“Well, that’s true,” you admit with a small wince. It does feel rather… good when he bites you, it would be a lie to say otherwise and, besides, you’ve told him as much before. “But that’s not why I like you, you fool.”

Astarion’s bottom lip slips into a small pout and he moves away from your hand. “You’re not very convincing, you know? Especially when you call me a fool.”

You scooch out a bit from under him, leaving your legs under his. With all of the severity in the world, you reply, “If it makes you feel better, I’m a fool too.”

“You are?” he asks, curious despite himself– easily falling for your little trap.

“A fool for you.”

The noise that escapes him is half groan, half chuckle, and his mouth pulls into a lopsided little smile that you’re not certain you would have earned were he not a bit blooddrunk. “Gods, how the hells did I fall for you?”

“Now you’re asking the right questions,” you respond with a smirk on your face. When you place a hand on his knee, the smirk turns into a small smile. “But I’m being genuine– I don’t like you because you’re a vampire. And before you ask, I don’t love you because of your vampirism either.”

He gives a small huff. “Well, Jaheira made it sound as if there wasn’t much else to care for.” An uncharacteristic admittance from him– normally he would brush off such a statement with a proud declaration of how phenomenal he is. But it seems that Jaheira’s words cut deep– and that blood has loosened his lips.

“Jaheira, despite all of her many, many years of experience–” you enjoy the full laugh that elicits. “simply doesn’t have my refined taste. There are so many reasons to like you, love. In fact, vampirism doesn’t even make the list.”

“Oh, you’re keeping track, are you?” he asks, folding his arms and body over his legs and smiling up at you.

“Maybe,” you murmur, leaning forward toward him. “Would you like a sampling of reasons?”

The look he gives you then is hopeful, but more than a little dread slips through in his shining red eyes. When he answers, his voice is barely above a whisper. “Only if you mean them.”

This withdrawn, unsure Astarion isn’t a common sight to you, but, like every other facet of the man before you, he’s no less lovable. So you lean forward, placing a kiss on his pale forehead, and say, “I mean them with my whole heart.”

“Then… I suppose I ought to be lavished with them," he murmurs, and you spot the blush intensifying over his cheeks, now also coloring his ears.

Coupled with his fluid, inebriated state, his heart laid bare before you, you want to scream the reasons from the roof of the Elfsong, if only for him to believe you. But, as it is, the soft snores of your companions keep your voice hushed, your face close to his as you begin.

“Let’s see… should I start with the first thing that stood out to me?”

He hums in agreement, and closes his eyes, as if preparing to listen to the sweetest tune known to the entirety of Faerun.

“Well, it started with your first lie, I think,” you start.

Astarion gives a disapproving groan, but doesn’t open his eyes.

“My dear, you said you said you had a ‘brain thing’ cornered– I hope you know the smile on my face wasn’t from confidence,” you say with a new, fond smile at the memory. “I just knew from that moment on, you didn’t much care for what others thought of you, as long as your goals were met. A kindred spirit. Or so you said that day.”

At that, he reopens his eyes. “That’s not true.”

“We’re not kindred spirits?” you ask, an unexpected tinge of hurt blooming in your chest.

“That’s true,” he says, balming the hurt quickly. “It’s not true that I don’t care what others think of me. I do. Well, maybe not everyone.” His eyes dart toward Gale’s bed and you stifle a snicker. “But I certainly care what you think of me.”

You look into his crimson eyes, a bit clearer now than when you began talking– the blood seems to be working its way through his system. His words come from a place of honesty, not a lack of inhibition.

“Then, let me assure you here and now,” you murmur, leaning down to press a kiss to his lips. “I think–” Another quick peck on his lips. “you’re the funniest–” A kiss to his nose. “the most deft–” A brush of lips against his temple. “creative, endearing, brave–” Each word comes with a kiss along his jaw. “man I’ve ever met.”

Astarion’s eyes look at you, his face still for a moment as he considers your words. When he finally speaks, it’s a quiet, choked up question, “Oh, is that it?”

“Would you like me to keep going?” you ask, lips perched just above his eyebrow, ready for another round.

He shakes his head ever so slightly. “No– no need or you’ll be here all night, surely,” he says, posturing as best as he can while still looking at you with fearful eyes. Almost as if your candid praise is simply too much for him to bear.

It may be too much, and you’re not one to push it.

“Very well,” you say, pulling back. “But I didn’t even get to how good you look covered in blood…”

The man gives a light laugh at that, some of his nerves melting before praise he understands– his appearance is a source of comfort, one that brings him back to himself. “Oooh yes, I do look dashing in red, don’t I?” he purrs, a content smile forming on his face.

“That you do,” you assure, with your own warm look. You wish he would accept all praise this easily, but you suppose this is all you can do for now.

So little of what matters to you is his vampirism, his looks… but for a man like Astarion, for whom a kind word felt like a double-edged blade for two centuries? Well, you’re reminded that regardless of how many times you may tell him, whether now when he’s a bit fuzzy around the edges or when you’re in your cups, he may never truly believe you.

No matter, you suppose. I’ll simply keep finding new ways to show him how much I care for him…

“So Jaheira was kidding, right?” Astarion asks, sitting up and finally beginning to remove his leathers.

You nod, moving to help him remove his greaves. “Naturally. I thought you’d been enjoying the conversation, actually.”

“I had been,” he replies, thoughtfully. “But the more I remembered how sinfully you shiver under my fangs…”

He’s dodging before you can so much as flick his ear. “Excuse you. Is that any way to treat your most reliable source of sustenance?”

Astarion smirks as he leans away from you in the bed. “Oh darling, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. After all, you can’t help it.”

“Astarion–”

“Ehem!” You hear from somewhere behind you. It’s followed shortly by Shadowheart’s annoyed voice, “Would the two of you please keep it down? Some of us are trying to rest.”

If by ‘rest’ she means ‘reach the end of her copper novel’, then you suppose she’s right. Either way, you whisper back, “Sorry, I was defending my dignity.”

“What dignity?” she murmurs back. “And in case you’re wondering, you’re both utter fools.”

Oh great, she’d heard everything.

“Shadowheart, were you eavesdropping?” Astarion asks, crawling over you to glare at her from the edge of your bed. He’s half-dressed and still somewhat out of sorts, so you just lean back against the pillows and accept your fate.

“Is it really eavesdropping if I can hear it all clearly?” the cleric says, and you hear her book snap shut. “Besides, Astarion, if you really needed someone to reassure you, you should have asked me.”

“You?” he asks, incredulously. “And why should I ask you?”

“Because,” she starts, and you can hear her wicked smile in her tone. “I can confirm without a shadow of a doubt that there’s no such thing as ‘vampiric charm.’ I’ve never felt less charmed in my entire life.”

You can sense Astarion is just about ready to light Shadowheart’s hair on fire, so you tug him back down from the divide. “Thank you for that clarification, Shadowheart,” you call, biting back a laugh. “And I’m starting to realize none of us really have private conversations, do we?”

“No, we do not,” you hear Gale reply from a few beds away.

With that, Astarion gives an exasperated sigh and the two of you finish removing his armor in silence.  When you’re both finally ready for bed and you whisper to him, “Goodnight.” Shadowheart, Gale, and Wyll all respond, “Goodnight!”

[angelofsmalldeaath]

you'll always find me in the kitchen at parties — a.h.b.

a/n: this is based on one of the songs mentioned in this interview. the prompt is "a song for when you're getting ready to go out, but you actually want to stay in"

cw: suggestive, kissing and making out

“red or pink?” i hold up two tubes of lipstick in front of him. he frowns. 

“neither,” he takes them out of my hands one after the other and hides them behind his back. “i’d rather you stayed.”

i click my tongue and look at him, exasperated once again. he’s been on our bed for the past twenty minutes now, watching me ritualistically put on my makeup, once step after the other like i’ve done for years. 

“baby, don’t be like this,” i get off the chair and stand in front of him, between his legs. then i cradle his face. “it’s a work thing. i have to be there…”

truth is i’d rather be anywhere but at the work thing. i know it’s going to be one of those events that goes on and on and on until every last person is sleepy and bored out of their minds. then there is shitty food. 

“will you return my lipsticks, please?”

“and what if i said no?” he puts his arms around me and rests his chin on my sternum, effectively trapping me in place. 

“i’d have to wrestle you for them,” i smirk, indulging him.

“you’d never win against me,” he declares, his voice all confident until i scratch his scalp with my nails. whatever words he was about to say dissolve on his tongue as he sighs, practically melting in place. 

“you sure about that?” i tease and drag my nails through hair once again. 

once his eyes flutter shut, he shifts, squishing his face in my boobs, tightening his arms around me some more. 

“i’ve got you now,” his voice is muffled, i feel the vibrations in my chest, “where will you go?”

the clock on the wall ticks, inching closer and closer to when i have to leave. the more the seconds tick by the more my feet feel frozen in place, my body rooted in his arms, my brain unwilling to do the ‘right thing’. i should untangle myself from his embrace and step away. instead i climb onto his lap. 

“oh?” he looks at me with renewed interest, mouth curving into a smug smile. 

i take my chance and reach behind him, closing my fist around one of the lipsticks. quickly i yank my arm back and hold it up in front of him. it’s the pink one, the one i didn’t want. “gotcha!”

he looks at the bullet then back at me, moving his hands from my hips to my waist. a confused frown makes its way onto my face. “what are you—”

i yelp before i can finish my question. in an instance i’m off his lap and somehow under him on the bed as he flips us both, faster than i could have imagined. the lipstick goes flying halfway across the room.

“gotcha…” he whispers, close enough that our breaths mix together. “do you still want to leave?”

no. no no no. i haven’t wanted to leave all evening, not when he looks at me with so much longing and want and love. not when he looks like that…

the other lipstick tube rolls against my thigh, within my reach now. instead, i place my hand on his cheek, crane my neck until i can press my lips against his.

barely a second passes before he deepens the kiss, moves his hand from my waist to my ribs. 

his familiar weight on top of me is comfortable, safe. i fist his t-shirt and giggle when he does the same to my dress, wrinkling it instantly. 

“you won’t let me go, will you?”

he clicks his tongue, kissing my jaw, “not a chance.”

“i should just tell them i got food poisoning, shouldn’t i?”

“absolutely. oh, you are deathly ill right now.”

i giggle again, letting him slide away the straps off my dress and kiss the bare skin of my shoulder. 

“for the record,” he murmurs, “i would have picked red.”

“yeah?”

he nods, pulling away slightly so he can look at me properly. “looks the best on you. looks the best on me when you kiss me…”

“and pink doesn’t?” i tease. 

this time it’s his turn to thread his fingers through my scalp. i sigh and almost close my eyes. “well now that you’ve decided to stay…” he swoops down and captures my lips in another lingering kiss, “we could test out all the shades.”

“i think that’s a good use of our time,” i laugh, and kiss him once again. 

[jamjaemin]

Better in person — j.lee (M)

summary: the two gorgeous idols and models meet the famous photographer for a cover shoot. What happens when you catch Jeno’s eye?

pairings: idol model! Jeno lee x photographer! reader + mentioning of your friend photographer! Jaemin, idol model! Chenle (Jeno’s friend)

word count: 6.3k mdi+18

warnings: penetrative sex, rough sex, use of master, use of pet names, pussy eating, creampies, edging, spanking, different sex positions, love bites, breeding kink, dirty talk, spanking, hair pulling.

notes: this is completely inspired by the recent jeno pics of that magazine, because damn I'm feral, Also this was written after a month from my break i still have so much studies :( , anyways hope you enjoy! Taglist: @peachesmilk @kakikuro @hanaj @niinjo @tihaynes @minkyuncutie @jennieonline

The constant flash of cameras, the constant stress and rush of deadlines, and the constant presence of models and unreal people.

You were used to this constant experience of being a photographer for one of the most popular magazines in Korea. Being one of the most desirable photographers in Korea, due to your work for the magazine. With this, you were given the opportunity to work with several respected celebrities.

Along with that though, you were quite popular yourself and not for just photography. More specifically your looks. Many idols claimed they had a hard time focusing on the shoot when their photographer was so attractive. You always blushed or laughed away at their comments, trying to stay professional. But with all the glamorous people you worked with daily, sometimes that task became quite difficult. Especially the males.

Today, you sat in your photography studio all by yourself. There were no specific clients for the day, and the studio was empty. But you still decided to go to the studio today for some fun. You had a personal concept for a shoot and decided to do it today. It wasn’t your usual type of shoot but, you couldn’t help but be drawn to a different style.

Faint music played throughout the studio, setting the mood for the studio. The dim color of cool-toned lights filled the studio. Prop tables are set with several glimmering and colorful items. Along with several cameras set up at different angles. The array of makeup and hair products spread across the table.

You had everything set up, but for the specific plan you had this wouldn’t work out. You needed several angles for the shoot, but some of them couldn’t be done by a simple tripod or stand. You had to call up one of your photographer friends to assist you in this shoot. After much begging and pleading you finally got him to agree with you.

In the meantime, you had started getting ready for the shoot. Preparing with slicked hair, the swish of stray hairs, and accents of pearls and jewels. Lightly dewy makeup with several highlights and sparkles. All the details were perfect, making you look almost like a siren.

Perfectly on time, your friend arrived at your studio. Na Jaemin is also a very famous photographer that worked with you almost everyday, he was a bit surprised at your appearance but was enticed by the concept you proposed. Even mentioning some effects you could use. Such as water, the effect of a fan blowing...

The shoot continued perfectly, with many great photos coming out. Even if the floor was soaking wet with water. The studio was practically flooded, but it was worth it. Not to mention your friend, hyping you up behind the camera.

“ Yes, seduce me with your looks girl! “

“just like that, that's it!" jaemin said with his lazy deep tone taking so many photos.

All of his comments make you laugh or crack a smile. The shoot was full of playfulness and fantasy. You missed having fun shoots like these, and not just serious modeling shoots. Although through the fun, one of your managers stepped in.

“ Hey, whenever you can, wrap this up. Y/N is needed for a shoot in studio 3 “

Just as quickly as your manager left, you stared at jaemin in confusion. You didn’t have any planned shoots this morning. You paused the shoot momentarily, to go check out the studio.

You were still in your outfit from the shoot, clearly not your usual photographer look. When walking through the lobby of the studio, the pearls and jewels on your outfits sparkled and shined throughout the room. Workers coming in would glance at you, entranced by your look.

You knocked on the studio 3 door, and it opened slowly. A fellow staff member helping you inside the studio and handing you the information for the shoot. Everyone in the studio was caught off guard by your model-like appearance at the moment.

It especially caught one of the model’s eyes.

Reading the information of the shoot caught you off guard, very quickly. It was a shoot with chenle and jeno from one of the most popular boy bands in Korea called nct dream. You’ve seen clips of them somewhere you thought. You glanced at both of their profile shots, both absolutely stunning. One specifically caught your eye.

Jeno Lee

He had a stunning visual and even had the ability to pull off several different styles. You could easily tell by the photos. Which was ideal for any photographer, If he made any comments to you today, you didn’t know if you could quite resist him.

Jeno stood there with his friend as the staff sorted out the shoot. When you walked in, your appearance caught his eye quickly. And it wasn’t only because of the shimmery and bright jewels that decorated your body. He heard of the famous photographer but still not knowing much about you, he could confirm after seeing you in real life you were quite stunning. Maybe it was an alluring and complex outfit you were wearing or maybe the fact you looked like a goddess right now. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. This shoot would be hard to focus on.

Once everything was sorted, you stepped forward and bowed to the two idols that stood in front of you.

“ I apologize for the delay, I’m your photographer. Also, I apologize for my appearance I was busy with another shoot. “ you said politely.

Jeno and chenle bowed and assured you it was alright. Chenle even complimented your outfit, saying he wanted to know more about the shoot. You blushed at his comment and told him you’d spare them the details later. You explained how the shoot would go. It was an advertisement for Ferragamo × Harper's Bazaar Korea. They were excited and hyped for the shoot. You smiled at their action and sent them off to the makeup and hair team.

You set up everything for the shoot and quickly exited to talk to jaemin about your other shoot.

When they were sent to the makeup and hair room chenle couldn’t help but start talking and whispering.

“ Did you see her, the rumors really are true “ chenle spoke up.

“ Oh my god. She looked so good in that outfit. “ he commented again.

“ What do you think jeno?. “

Jeno was so focused on what was going on earlier, that he didn’t realize someone was talking to him.

“ Jeno? “ chenle asked.

“ Oh, she was really pretty. I really want to know what she was doing for that other shoot. “ jeno started rambling on about you.

Chenle laughed at how he started practically rambling about you, even if he had just met you. He could tell jeno may have a big admiration for you, and maybe even a slight crush. His laugh caught the attention of everyone in the room and he didn’t stop until jeno gave him the stare.

Jeno was the first to finish, and the makeup team let him go. Yet he didn’t know where to go. He looked like a lost puppy in the lobby waiting around. A few minutes passed and still chenle hadn’t left the makeup room. He was left bored all alone in the lobby, he asked other staff members if there was anything he could do. And the only thing they suggested was visiting your other studio where your other shoot was. That would be entertaining at least.

He knocked on the door politely, awaiting a response. When the door opened, he was met with you looking up to him.

“ Oh hey, jeno. Has the shoot started? Do they need me? “ you asked.

“ Oh no, not yet. I just got done early with the makeup team and they said I could come in here. Only if you don’t mind. “ jeno said.

“ Oh no, of course you can come in. “ you said a little embarrassed, it was the first time working with him and chenle, you didn’t know what to do. You pulled jeno inside your studio.

While the whole thing happened, chenle watched from the sidelines giggling. Seeing his friend getting pulled into the studio with you. He’d have to ask jeno for the details later.

When you pulled him into the studio, he was met with colorful lights and the flooded studio floors.

“ I apologize for the mess in the studio, we had to get the perfect look for the shoot. Even if we ended up flooding the studio. “ you laughed.

“ I don’t mind. “Jeno smiled.

You showed him around the room, showing the several props and effects. The concept was out of this world in Jeno’s eye. It was something you wouldn’t see every day. Yet it piqued his interest nevertheless. You guided him to a seat near the corner of the room, but it still gave him a good view of the shoot. You caught up with jaemin and explained everything he missed. And you began the shoot again.

Jeno couldn’t help but watch in amazement as the camera clicked away. Your face was so serious, yet had a siren-like look. He started questioning why you were a photographer and not a face model. That slight crush from earlier was definitely growing as the shoot continued. The way you posed and moved was so alluring and addicting to watch. Halfway through the shoot, someone came in to remind the two that the other shoot would begin soon. You smiled and thanked the staff member before going with jeno to studio 3.

When everyone was gathered together, you immediately went into photographer mode. You gave them lots of freedom giving them the chance to express themselves in the photos. And they did not disappoint with their expressions. Their facial expressions were so fierce and on point, it surprised you. Each shows off their own unique flair.

its time for individual photos.

Starting with chenle and ofc it went so smooth but when it came time for you to take individuals of Jeno you had to excuse yourself for a second. You frantically rushed towards the bathroom. Many people watching you confused, some concerned especially Jeno. It wasn’t like this earlier...

When you finally made it to the bathroom, you sat on the cold floors, against the door and sighed. There was no way in hell you were going to survive individual shots with him. It wasn’t even because of comments he’s made or anything, his appearance just had this effect that was very hard to resist. You’ve done these kinds of shots with many other idols why was this on so much harder?

Many of the staff members waited anxiously for their lead photographer to leave the bathroom, but it was starting to take a while. Many of them grew concerned in that moment. Some suggested going over there to check if you were okay. But Jeno spoke up before anyone else could do anything.

“ I’ll go check on her, give me a second. “

And just like that he headed straight to the bathroom where you ran off too. Before barging in, he knocked on the door softly before whispering.

“ Hey you okay in there, We need you for the shoot, No rush. “

The knock on the door caught you off guard, almost making you gasp. But you covered your mouth. Out of all the people that had to come to get you, it had to be Jeno huh? Just your luck. You sat up and tried to fix your appearance, your face still flushed bright red. You sighed and opened the door.

And when you opened the door you were met with Jeno leaning against a nearby wall. He was so hot with that long black coat, you felt like summer even its freezing cold outside. If you thought he looked like a model earlier, he looked more like one now. But as you were staring Jeno realized your presence and walked up to you.

“ Are you alright? need help? “ he asked frantically.

You smiled at him and put your arms on his shoulder to reassure him, “ no I’m fine let’s go to the shoot now “. The moment you touched him he knows it's over, there's no way he didn’t fall for you not a single way.

Jeno followed you like a puppy back over to the studio. You apologized to everyone for holding up the shoot and prepared for his individuals. Checking all the cameras and the lighting.

The camera clicked away, and the flash filled the room. Jeno effortlessly posed and modeled for his individuals. He used everything he could from his look to his hands, and even his clothes. Trying to get the best photos possible. You were practically dying behind the camera, even a slight blush forming across your face. And chenle from the sideline suggested jeno get closer up photos and get close to the camera. Guess what, jeno loved the idea and moved closer to the camera, aka closer to you and that was for two reasons, first is for the magazine the second is to make sure you have a crush on him just like the way he does about you. He showed many facial expressions, giving you a variety of points of view.

When you finished Jeno’s individuals, you had to sit down for a second. During the last moments of that, your faces were mere inches apart almost only the camera between the two of you. Your face was flushed red and you were completely flustered. But you had to finish the shoot.

The shoot ended with a couple more photos of both of them against one another.

After the shoot, you left studio 3 and headed back to your original studio. Hoping to finish up your original photo shoot.

Jaemin left for a short coffee break like usual, leaving you alone in the studio. You started doing some quick touch-ups to your appearance. Due to the earlier events, some parts of your look were messy. But as you were working on your appearance you heard a knock on the studio door.

You were confused, jaemin was on a coffee break and wouldn’t be there for a while. And not to mention the other shoot had ended, so it couldn’t be a manager or anything. You stood up from your original seating and headed towards the studio door. You peaked your eyes through the creak of the door, to see Jeno standing there. You opened the door completely and looked at him confused.

“ Do you need me in something Jeno? You know the shoot is over right? “ you said as calmly as you could.

Not to mention the nervous pounding in your chest, he seemed quite nervous too.

“ Oh yeah, I know. I was just wondering… you know what actually never mind. “ Jeno started, before stopping himself.

“ no no, tell me what it is “You grabbed his hand.

“ Well I liked the concept of the shoot you were doing right now, and I kinda wanted to join it. “ he practically whispered.

“Oh, you want to be a part of my shoot. I mean you wouldn’t get paid, and this is far from like high professional its for practice. “ you warned him and your heart skipped a beat hearing his next words.

“ yes I know “ he replied, his eyes never left yours a single second.

“ Sure, you can join. “ You said, your heartbeats getting louder so your breaths.

Earlier after the shoot, chenle realized how much his friend didn’t want to leave the studio. It wasn’t because of the glamorous outfits or bags, but rather the photographer behind the camera. He knows what's up between the two of you so he encouraged him to visit you before he left and here he was.

The original inspo for your shoot was with only one person, but with Jeno here it gave you a similar inspiration.

You slowly go to work on his appearance, You sat across from him but you’d move closer to get certain details. The two of you are extremely close in those moments. Sometimes you’d even tilt his chin to get the right design and make sure he looked perfect, before picking out his outfit.

"Done!" You said softly.

You then directed him towards the set of the studio. Warning him about the water and helped position him for the shots. You lowered the lighting and the camera began clicking away, you zoned into your element. Capturing the pure essence of jeno’s natural beauty. Several pics later, jaemin comes in. He was a bit caught off guard seeing Jeno but didn't question it.

He grabbed his own camera and offered to take photos of the both of you. You were hesitant at first but with how Jeno looked at you, you couldn’t resist. The two of you were an unstoppable duo in the photos. The dynamic of both of you was crazy. As time went on, the two of you grew comfortable with one another and posed closer together he even holds your chin for you to look at him in some of the photos. You’d do the same. Jeno tried to be professional but he couldn’t help but feel his heart pound at your actions.

The shoot quickly came to an end, jaemin left right away because he was so tired and have to work full day tomorrow. The studio is being packed up and cleaned. Leaving you and Jeno by

yourselves.

As you finish cleaning up, you feel arms wrap around your waist. You turn around to see the most expected person with a playful grin on his face. Jeno leaned close to your ear and whispered.

“What was that about, earlier? grabbing my hand, touching my shoulder and the way you're looking at me like this, hmm?..”

“ Take it however you want it—Jeno. “ you replied.

“I need to hear it, right here,right now “ he teased.

“you think i did it on purpose. “

Jeno smiled at your statement and leaned closer to your neck.

“pretty sure—I'll never leave until you say it, love “ he whispered against your neck in a teasing manner.

You closed your eyes at the sensation of his breath against your neck. His voice is very tempting, and I mean you couldn’t reject such a polite gentleman, now could you?

"I don’t want you to leave."

You place a soft kiss on his neck, the immediate action catching him off guard. Jeno’s hand tangled in your hair, and his other hand held your waist securely. Lips traveled from his neck slowly up to his jaw. Jeno’s breath quickened and all he's thinking about is how to love you right.

Abruptly he pulled you into a passionate kiss before you could debate further. His hands wrapped around your waist and yours draped around his neck. He pushed you against the nearby wall with his lips still tangled with yours. The movement was quick but you were quick to adjust. Letting Jeno take full control.

As the two of you continued, you began moving around the studio. Stumbling kisses, roaming hands, and laughter.

“Tell me that you want me as much as I do. That I can fuck you however i like.” The vulgar words that came from his mouth sent a violent shudder down your spine. You were not used to dirty talk, but it was something you would gladly get used to if it meant Jeno was the one. 

“I-I....” You found yourself struggling to follow his commands despite the fact that you want this more than anything else.

You let out a sharp gasp when Jeno grabbed both your wrist by his single hand and pinned it above your head. The forceful slam on the wall rang in your ears as you found yourself staring at the man with wide eyes. His beautiful eyes looked dangerous. Like a wolf staring at his prey. 

“You have nowhere to run now, baby. Follow my orders, and I might just reward you.” Struggling to hold his heavy gaze, you closed your eyes. 

“I want you so much, Jeno— you can do anything you want with me” He lets out a low groan at your sweet words, the grip on your wrists tightening. He take the opportunity to spread your legs and position himself in between. Immediately, you whimpered when his clothed length rubbed against you. 

“Good girl.” Jeno whispers into your ear. He moves more, slowly grinding his hips against your throbbing core. The action had you choking back a needy moan. Even from that, you could tell how good his cock would be when you finally had it for yourself. Arousal flaring through your entire body, you struggled to stay still. 

“Look at me.” Even if you heard his command, you couldn’t do so immediately. Not when you felt your entire body crumble with the slightest of movements. Not when you knew you were soaking through your panties by now. You felt so overwhelmed with desire for him. 

"Fucking look at me when I tell you to, princess.” He spat the venomous words, landing a slap on your inner thigh. You flinched at the unexpected contact, and let out a broken moan. You couldn’t help but meet his dangerous gaze. 

“That’s right, keep your eyes on me. I want those pretty eyes on me only.” He said whilst grinding even harder against your clothed heat. His cock was so hard, you could practically feel him pulsating. He was rock hard- for you. 

You bit your lip to maintain your voice while still holding the eye contact. 

Once again, he leaned into your neck. When he placed a gentle kiss, you let out a small whimper. You couldn’t help but find your fingers tangled in his messy black hair all over again. When his hot tongue started traveling over your sensitive neck, you bit your lip even harder. You made a futile attempt to move your arms. Jeno was having none of it- the iron grip he held was too strong.

“Stay still.” bitting on your neck harder to warn you. You couldn’t help but let out breathy moans here and there when he ravaged your neck as much as he could. He didn’t leave a spot open, not an inch where he didn’t kiss, bite or lick. You were sure to have quite a few love bites tomorrow. 

He let your wrists go to take off your top and skirt. You faintly remembered wearing tights. When he noticed the thin material, he didn’t give you a chance to answer before instantly ripping it to shreds. Roughly stripping you out of the clothing, he hungrily took in the sight of you in your underwear. 

God damn, you were stunning and all his. 

“you will be mine.” He growled when placed a kiss on your collarbone. He unhooked your bra and threw them across the room. Large rough hands fondling your tits, he continued the trace of love bites downwards. He wanted to mark every inch your body if he could’ve. 

As much as he wanted to just destroy you immediately, your pleasure was the priority to him. He had no intentions of rushing anything today. But even so, some things had his patience running out.

You let out a loud gasp when he ripped your panties as well. The unexpected gesture sent a burning arousal straight to your core. You were sure to be soaking wet by now, you could even feel it yourself. The sudden exposure to the cold air had you shivering. 

You made a futile attempt to close your legs in embarrassment. Contrary to your wishes, Jeno’s hands held a firm grip on your thighs to prevent that. 

“Don’t you dare hide this pretty pussy from me, baby.” The absolute filth coming from him had you clenching around nothing down there. The need of having him inside you was growing rapidly each second. You wanted to touch, kiss, and feel him in every way you could. 

You badly wanted him, in every way possible.

Your hips moved automatically, grinding against him sensually. Growling, Jeno’s  tongue swirled around yours. The hot open-mouthed kiss took your breath away, he stopped wasting time and took his shirt off before kissing you again, but this time was rougher, your nails sinking into his wide back until you finally broke away.

“When did I give permission to move your hips sweet girl?” he sounded dangerous when he growled it like that. Once again, you felt your hot core pulsing and dripping. 

“Keep your eyes on me while I eat this pussy out.” His narrow eyes looked even sharper than before when he finally had a proper look at you. The sight of you naked, whimpering his name was something he would never forget. 

He secured his grip on your thighs before getting on his knees and diving in. 

Jeno’s hot breath over your soaking cunt, he took a second to spread the lips apart. Almost immediately locating your clit, he lightly teased it with his thumb. Satisfied with how your body shook violently, he felt himself get rock hard. 

When his hot tongue brushed over your sensitive clit, you could’ve sworn you saw stars. Dark brown eyes never once leaving yours, he carefully observed your reaction to each of his motions. You let out a sharp yelp. 

Jeno experimentally flicked your bud. Wet tongue attached to your swollen clit, his eyes never left your face. Lewd sounds of your juice filling the room- your cheeks burned in embarrassment. 

Wasting no time in finding your sweet spots, he left you grabbing on his hair in no time. He circled his tongue teasingly on your clit, he lightly flicked it directly. The sensation too mind-blowing, you cried out his name. Jeno was relentless in his actions, fingers sinking into your soft thighs as he ate you out like a starved man. He wasn’t afraid to get messy, all he cared about was how your body trembled every time he sucked gently on the sensitive bud. Brutally ravaging your cunt, he sensed that you were nearing your orgasm. 

“Jeno, I-I’m close!” You cried out, gripping his hair like your life depended on it. Nothing could prepare you for the powerful orgasm that was coming, you could just hope you wouldn’t go mad. It was so close, you were so close- 

Until he pulled away. 

Before you knew it, he had started again.  

Jeno had made it his goal to edge you until you lost your mind completely. The sight of you so fucked out drive him crazy, he groaned into your cunt at the thought. 

He would do it until you felt the knot in your lower stomach, threatening to break any second- And then stop. You would chase your high, pressure in your lower stomach building up more and more- until he ripped it away from you. After waiting a few seconds for you to cool down, he continued his assault again. It felt like he’s been going at it for hours. 

“J-Jeno—Please, please let me cum..!” You cried weakly, hands finding its way to his messy locks again. Lightly pushing his head further, you wanted him to make you cum over and over again.

“mmh i don't think so sweetheart.” You shook your head violently at his words, eyes getting teary again from the brutal orgasm denial. All you wanted was your orgasm that had been ripped away from you too many times.

He went back to eating you out.

“Please let me cum... master!” As soon as you choked out the name, Jeno’s eyes snapped in your direction. 

The endearment brought out his animalistic instincts further. Loud slurping noises fill the room once again, just this time even more furiously. His tongue brushed over your clit over and over again, until you finally felt the knot come undone. You weren’t prepared for it to come so fast, a loud moan being ripped from you. Long awaited orgasm washed over your entire body.

Jeno licked your pussy, having a taste of you once more. He was addicted to you. 

The sinful sight of him made your cheeks flare, and core clench against nothing. Even if it was immediately after cumming, you felt the growing need to have him inside of you.  

“it's too much, jeno stop please.” You spat out feeling sensitive, your eyes went wide when he slammed his hand on your thighs and glared up at you with furious glint in his eyes. 

“Don’t order me around, princess. You better use the right word to address me from now on.” You felt your entire body shudder at his words. He was so naturally dominant, the need to submit completely to him growing. 

Yet, you couldn’t help but want to provoke him further.

“But it hur-Ah!” Jeno pulled you closer to him by roughly pulling you on your thighs but then clicked his tongue and stand up again...seconds and he's carrying you with ease to a near table placing you on the cold surface before spreading your legs. 

“You better be ready for the big words you uttered just now.” When you saw him finally taking off his belt and unzipping his pants position himself at your glistening wet folds, you felt your body catch fire. You wanted him so bad it was driving you insane. 

“please be gentle, master” You knew you could take whatever he could give you. As you directly met his burning gaze, he can't help himself especially when he look at your innocent eyes, you took in the sight of him smirking darkly at your request. 

His length was impressive, to say the least. Both length and width exceeded the standards of average, it will hurt so good, no doubt.

Even so, it was Jeno. It was with him, so you could take anything. You wanted everything he could give you. 

“Hang on tight, sweetheart.” Your delicate hands were placed on his wide shoulders as you anxiously waited him to finally slip it inside you. He placed a soft kiss on your forehead before he rubs his thick tip on your entrance, you both sharply inhaled with a breathy moan following afterwards. Jeno staring at you with such eyes, it felt amazing to be claimed in such intimacy. 

He slowly pushed his length inside while hearing your beautiful voice, mesmerized. The thickness caused a sweet burn inside, making you arch your back. Even if it hurt, you didn’t want him to stop. 

“Does it hurt?” he was undeniably worried at your slightly grimacing expression.

“a little” adding “I want it all inside me baby.” you couldn’t help it. The desire to be ruined by him was too overwhelming. 

He grunted before pushing in all the way without any warning. You yelped, nails digging into his shoulder. The sweet pain of being stretched out by the man you’re having a crush on was indescribable. When your tight cunt clenched around him, Jeno shuddered. 

He didn’t wait a single second to go absolutely wild with you. As if unleashing a beast in slumber, his eyes shone in a new light you had never seen before. 

“You’re so fucking tight, this pretty cunt is all for me— fuck” He sounded like he was talking to himself more as he dragged himself out to the very tip, then slamming it back in. The sound of skin slapping against each other mixed with the air smelling like sex itself, you lost yourself in the moment. Entire body burning with desire, your mouth hung open. You had absolutely zero control over your voice as you freely let out the embarrassingly loud moans spill. Jeno’s eyes darkened at the sweet sound, wrapping one hand on your neck choking you softly. And tightening his grip the more you moan.

He kept up a rather fast and rough pace, contrary to what you initially imagined it would be. Your nails sinking into his back, you cried out louder. The only thing keeping you sane in this moment was the feeling of his thick cock slipping in and out of you. He was addicting, and he knew it. The higher he took you, the greedier you became. 

“Harder, faster, master!” You had the nerve to talk even when you could barely take the current pace. Jeno’s thrusts became faster and rougher, the iron grip on your hips holding you still while you were practically sobbing when he started rubbing circles on your clit alongside. Entire body shaking with each thrust, his eyes were still observing you. 

In under a minute, he found your sweet spot inside as well. When he noticed your breath hitching louder and body shudder more violently, he knew he hit the jackpot. As he targeted that specific spot, you felt tears rimming your eyes. The high-pitched moans coming uncontrollably out of your open lips were doing a lot of things to him. He fucked you exactly the way you wanted. 

He let go of your neck landing a loud slap on your inner thigh again, he slipped out. 

You almost cried and was prepared to beg for it again. Contrary to your initial thought, you found yourself being forcefully flipped over to a new position. 

“Head down ass up, sweetheart. Hurry up.” You immediately followed his words and sticked your ass against his length again, chest pressed on the table. 

"That's my good girl" Your mind went blank when he slipped his thick cock again into your tight walls. The new position bringing out newer, vivid sensations, you moaned needily. Jeno’s low voice with his breathy moan was sinful- music to your ears. 

“Ngh, master- feels so good-!” Your mind couldn’t focus on anything else other than the sweet sensation of his thick cock filling you to the brim and bringing out moans you didn’t know you could produce. Jeno’s mind was also foggy, the feeling of your tight pussy and beautiful voice feeling like a dream. 

When he dragged his veiny cock over your sweet spot from behind, you screamed at the feeling. Too embarrassed to hear yourself in such manner, you sunk your teeth to your lower lip. Jeno immediately noticed you trying to lower your moans.  

He landed a sharp spank on your ass this time, leaving a pretty red print behind. You couldn’t help but let your voice out and looked back at him. When he glared at you with those eyes, you knew what he was thinking even without him voicing it out. 

“Don’t fucking make me repeat myself, baby. You are mine, let me hear those pretty little moans.” You weakly nodded, struggling to stay in position. Every time he slammed into you, you saw red. You had never felt anything like this before. 

“I’m going to own this pretty pussy, and fill it with my cum until you can’t take it anymore yeah.” His dirty talking had you clenching around him immediately. Jeno inhaled sharply at the tightening, landing soft spanks here and there. The sweet feeling of being pounded raw filled you with desire, nothing else mattered beside you and him. 

“Who is making you moan so loud? Tell me, sweetheart. Who owns this pussy? Who do you belong to? Fuck, such a good girl.” You let out needy moan after moan, the sharp sounds of his hip snapping against yours filled your ears. He groaned and gripped your hip even tighter with one hand and gripping on your hair with the other one

“I am master’s good girl, you own me-” You were surprised you managed to form a sentence with your mind in such state. The man you’ve had a crush on few hours ago, pounding you rough and raw from behind. It was still unbelievable. Yet, sparks flying and the addicting feeling of his cock slipping in and out of you had your eyes rolling to the back of your head. You could focus on absolutely nothing than his cock filling you up.

Your orgasm was quickly approaching, sensitivity heightened when Jeno pulled you harder by your hair. Yelping in pain, you felt yourself drool. The fast and rough pace he had never slowed down, not even a second. Every time he slipped out, he explored you inside out and hit you in the spots you never even knew you had. When his large hands wrapped your neck again, your orgasm heightened even more. It was so close- 

“J-jeno, I’m-!”

“Let go baby, you’re doing so well. Cum on master’s cock, come on.” Almost immediately, you cried out and let go. The feeling of your crashing orgasm driving you crazy, your entire body trembled with oversensitivity. He let out a low grunt next to your ear, finally letting go of your neck. You didn’t even have the chance to breathe properly again before he started the cruel pace again immediately after your second orgasm of the night. 

“W-Wait baby!-ah!” You couldn’t form any word with the current state of mind, not when he was drilling into you like there was no tomorrow. You finally remembered he still hadn’t came yet. Gulping, you tried your best to hold on until he came undone. you were too busy trying to push your ass more towards him. Jeno bit down on your shoulder as he desperately tried to hold in the moans as he himself approached his high. 

"That's it, fuck" he growled and you finally felt him release inside you with a single deep moan. When he shoot his hot cum inside you, you greedily tightened around him. The feeling of being filled to the brim with his seed set your cheeks on fire. 

You whimpered when he pulled out turning you to face him, Jeno looked at you in such loving gaze breathing heavily, you felt your heart hammer against your chest. He was wonderful, you felt yourself falling deeper in love if that was even possible. When you both calmed down you start kissing slowly feeling every kiss.

“you have another shoot tomorrow you know?.” You said between kisses teasing him.

“I know, I can't wait to see you and fuck you again.“ Jeno whispers while smiling, after cleaning all the mess you made he drives you back to your home, both can't stop thinking about what happened today and what's gonna happen tomorrow.

[loslentesdepedrito]

Feliz Navidad

Javi gif by: Ggyussance My Masterlist

Pairing: Javier Peña x Spanish-speaking Latina f!reader (No race, skin color, or nationality mentioned. I tried my best to include small parts of each Spanish-speaking Latin American country.)

Word count: 11.3k+

Summary: At every family reunion, the relentless interrogation about your love life becomes a tiring ritual. Fed up with the relentless questions and awkward setups, you turn to Javi, your best friend, and ask him to be your date for the upcoming family Christmas party. He suggests that you take it a step further by pretending to be a couple. Can the two of you play pretend, especially when, in reality, you both harbor secret feelings for each other?

Rating: 18+ Explicit content (MDNI) Tags and CW: slight angst, happy ending, fake dating, friends to lovers, jealous and possessive Javi, reader and Javi are in their 20s, not canon, just a smidge of idiots in love, reader wears a dress, lingerie, makeup, and is shorter than Javi, alcohol consumption, Javi being cheesy with your family, unprotected piv, cowgirl, use of a sex toy, oral (female receiving) reader likes to pull Javi's hair, creampie, slight cum eating, Javi loving his cum inside you.

A/N: I’m on vacation and meant to upload this on the 24th, but didn’t have time to add the translations. Sorry for the delay, tarde pero seguro. Enjoy! 

"Come on, Javi," you plead again, watching him chew thoughtfully. There's a sense of urgency in your voice as you desperately hope he’ll agree to be your date for your family’s Christmas gathering. "Please, I'm practically begging you. I'll get down on my hands and knees if I have to." This finally grabs his attention. Caught off guard while swallowing, he hears your words and can't help but let his imagination run wild. The image of you begging, not just for any favor, but for him – for his cock, fills his mind. With a sudden intensity, he forces the last bite of the torta cubana down his throat, triggering a fit of coughing.

Reacting quickly, you reach for the glass of iced water on the table, extending it toward him without a word. He accepts the offering from your outstretched hand, bringing the cool glass to his lips. In a fluid motion, Javi tilts his head back, the cup cradled by his fingers.

Your attention zeroes in on the man before you: The plushness of his lower lip curves around the rim of the glass; as he takes a sip, droplets of water cascade down, catching the afternoon sun and creating a glistening effect.

Mesmerized, you trace the path of those droplets, leading you to the delicate contours of his pink lips. Descending further with your gaze, you focus on his neck, where the rhythmic bobbing of his Adam's apple accompanies each sip. Involuntarily, you shift in your seat, a futile attempt to dispel the growing sensation stirring between your thighs.

Breaking the spell, he speaks, his voice rough as he clears his throat, "Okay, I'll be your date."

A wave of relief washes over you, and gratitude spills forth, "Thank you, thank you, thank you. You're so perfect. My family will love you."

A quizzical expression lingers on Javi's face as he asks, "Why don't you get a real date?" Despite knowing you could have your pick of anyone, there's genuine happiness in his eyes—an unspoken relief that you won't be taking another man to meet your family.

You sigh and offer an explanation, “I haven't met anyone, and it's pretty weird to introduce some stranger to your entire family on the first date. "Ya te dije (I already told you), my family keeps pestering me about getting a boyfriend. It's the same thing every Christmas, '¿nena y el novio? (baby girl and the boyfriend?)’ 'Mami, quiero que conozcas al sobrino de la vecina de mi comadre. (Mami, I want you to meet my friend’s neighbor's nephew.)’ '¿Mija, ya tienes novio? ('Mija, do you already have a boyfriend?)’ I love them, and they mean well, but I can't take any more of it. Hopefully, when I show up and say that we're just getting to know each other, it will shut them up until New Year's. But by then, I'll tell them we work better as friends, and they'll pity me, so I'll be off the hook for maybe two years."

A knowing look crosses Javi's face as he probes, "And this has nothing to do with the fact that Caleb will be there?"

You groan at the mention of your ex-boyfriend's name. "A little bit," you mumble, slumping in your chair as thoughts of him flood your mind. "He's probably going to bring some girl, and if I show up alone," you pause, giving Javi a sweet smile, "without my best friend, my family will find out I had a boyfriend and I kept it from them."

You didn't mean to keep your relationship with Caleb hidden. You just didn't want to tell your family you had a boyfriend, in case the relationship failed—and guess what, it did. Two months into your relationship, you found out he was still talking to his ex, and you dumped him before shit got worse. Fortunately, your decision to keep your family in the dark spared you from telling them about Caleb, so you didn't have to share the news about the breakup, which, unfortunately for you, meant you had to see him at parties since his parents were friends with your uncle.

"Why don't we tell them we're in a relationship? Like, boyfriend and girlfriend," Javi suggests, attempting to sound confident, though inwardly, he's praying you won't freak out and shoot down the idea.

You blink, momentarily caught off guard and unsure of how to respond. Javier panics at your silence and rushes to add, "I mean, they already know who I am, and we know everything about each other. It would be more believable."

Chewing on your lip, you contemplate what he's proposed. It would be convincing, you think.

“Are there any embarrassing moments that your family will bring up that I should be aware of, my beautiful girlfriend?” Javi teases, a playful glint in his eyes.

In response, you roll up a napkin, forming a makeshift ball, and throw it at him, the projectile hitting him directly on the forehead. Javi grumbles good-naturedly, a blend of irritation and laughter, and you purposely ignore the flutter in your heart. "No, you’ll never hear those."

“Okay fine,” Javi huffs, a mock pout on his face. “What’s the story then?”

"Story? For what?" you ask, genuinely puzzled.

Javi looks at you as if you're not making the slightest bit of sense. “The story we’ll tell your family. You know they'll ask us so many questions.”

He's right. Your family will undoubtedly bombard you both with questions, seeing as they only know him as your friend and not the guy you've been secretly harboring feelings for.

"I mean, in movies, they always seem to have background stor-" Javi abruptly stops, hoping you don't make the connection about the kind of movies he's referring to.

But, of course, you catch it. “¿Aww, te gustan los romcoms, Javi? (Aww, do you like romcoms, Javi?)”

"¡No!" He blurts out, his face turning a shade of red that extends from his face to the tips of his ears. "We've just- we need to establish a timeline."

Watching him stumble through the sentence, you decide to spare him further embarrassment. "Mmm... we can say we've been dating for a month. It's enough that they won't scold me for not telling them about the relationship earlier, right?"

"We can say I asked you out right after Thanksgiving, so that gives us a little over a month since Thanksgiving was on the 22nd."

"Okay, yeah, that sounds good. And are you okay with staying over at my aunt's house since we'll be drinking? Or do you want to drive back to your apartment after we say our goodbyes?"

"Wait, your aunt with the big-ass house is hosting Christmas for your family this year?" He asks, sitting straighter in his chair. Javi's excitement is palpable as you nod. "Yeah, I'm staying over," he declares.

“Trae dos mudas de ropa (bring two changes of clothes)," you instruct him.

“¿Pjs y algo para la recalentada? (Pjs and something for the afterparty?)” Javi guesses but needs confirmation, not wanting to make a fool of himself. In fact, he's determined to make a good impression on your family.

"Mhm," you hum in agreement and then ask him about his previous plans. "You said you weren't going to spend Christmas with your family. Are you sure?"

"My dad's going to Monterrey, and I didn't get my passport renewed, and it's too late now. It's fine; I like spending time with your family." I like spending time with you.

"You just want to get fed," you tease.

"How'd you know," he goes along with your teasing tone.

“Ya te conozco (I already know you),” you tell him, and Javi feels butterflies in his stomach.

Your phone vibrates on top of the white and blue plaid tablecloth. You pick it up and see a notification that your Christmas dress is ready for pickup. "Oh shit, I've gotta go pick up my dress." You scramble to get up and collect your trash.

Javi gently grabs your wrist and tells you, “Ve. Te tiro tu basura. (Go. I'll throw your trash away.)"

Your breath hitches at his touch, and you thank him. You drop your Coke can and take a few steps until you reach him. "You're the best. I love you." You lower yourself a bit to give him a kiss on the cheek. His heart races, and he's scared you'll see him turn beet red, so he stands up and envelops you in a hug. He's hit with your smell, and a groan nearly falls from his lips.

"I'll pick you up tomorrow at 8," he says in a shaky voice, whispering into your ear. Grateful for the long-sleeve shirt you decided to wear that morning, your skin breaks into goosebumps around his body. "That's still early, you know?" you object into his chest.

Feeling the lower half of his body respond to having you so close, he pulls away, not wanting to scare you or make you uncomfortable. “¿Entonces a las ocho y media? (So at eight-thirty?)” he asks, now standing a couple of steps away from you.

"See you then," you nod. Glancing at your watch, you realize you really have to get going.

"What color will your dress be?" he asks before you leave.

"Red," you smile, swinging your bag over your shoulder.

Javi gulps; red is his favorite color. He wonders if he'll be able to handle seeing you in it while pretending to be your boyfriend.

"Bye, te veo mañana (see you tomorrow),” you say goodbye one last time.

"Bye," he waves and watches you walk off. As soon as you're out of his view, he's left standing there, hands on his face, and he groans into his palms. Yeah, he doesn't know how he'll get through tomorrow night pretending he's in love with you because he is in love with you but can't show it.

Just as you apply the last coat of lipstick in your foyer mirror, you hear a knock on your door. Palms slightly damp, you start second-guessing taking Javi to your family party. You hear him say your name through the locked door and quickly tell him you're coming. With a slightly trembling hand, you turn the doorknob, your heart thudding in your chest at the sight of Javi. He's wearing a black leather jacket over a red cable-knit sweater, and God, he smells amazing—tones of sage, wood, and maybe some bergamot. All you know is that you want to push him against the door and put your mouth all over him—mouth, neck, chest, cock—you don't have a preference.

While you're busy ogling him, Javi is staring at you with his jaw near the floor. You're in a burgundy dress with black flowers all over, accentuating your beautiful figure. He makes a mistake when his gaze moves up, landing on your lips. Javi has to bite his tongue to suppress a groan at the sight of your luscious red-stained lips. They look so plush and enticing, and he twitches in his pants.

"Hi, Jav," you greet him in your sweet voice, making him look into your eyes.

The way your eyes sparkle, almost makes him lose his composure and profess his feelings for you. "¿Estas lista? (Are you ready?)" He says instead. 

"I just need to get my gifts," you point to the large gift bag you have set on the floor of your foyer. You only have two gifts in the much too large bag because your family does Secret Santa since it would be rather expensive to get each member of your family a gift. When you bend down to grab your things, Javi gets a perfect view of your round ass. He can't tear his eyes from you until he feels himself growing in his pants. He exhales trying to will his hard-on to go away. On his fifth breathing exercise, you turn around and tell him you're ready to go. Ever the gentleman, he signals for you to step out of your home first. 

"I just need to get my gifts," you point to the large gift bag set on the floor of your foyer. You only have two gifts in the much too large bag because your family does Secret Santa, as it would be rather expensive to get each member of your family a gift. When you bend down to gather your things, Javi gets a perfect view of your round ass. He can't tear his eyes away until he feels himself growing in his pants. He exhales, trying to will his hard-on to go away. On his fifth breathing exercise, you turn around and tell him you're ready to go. Ever the gentleman, he signals for you to step out of your home first.

As you brush past him, he's hit with the aroma of your perfume, and the sweetheart line of your dress offers a perfect view of your cleavage. He has to close his eyes to focus on anything else. After you lock up, he leads you to his car, takes the bag from you, and uses his free hand to help you down the steps. He opens the passenger door, puts your bag in the back seat, and goes to his seat to start the truck. You watch as he reverses, placing a hand behind your seat's headrest. His single hand moves the steering wheel, and you have to physically stop a whine from slipping past your mouth by biting your lip. You feel the wetness accumulate between your thighs, and you don't know how you'll get through the night.

The car ride over was hell on earth for both of you. Javi had to resist the urge to reach over and place his hand on your perfect thighs and move it further up. And you had to watch as Javi handled the gear stick with his big hands and thick fingers. You're both relieved to make it to your aunt's house. Javi insists on opening the door for you, and when he helps you get out of his truck, he gives you his hand to guide you. Next thing you know, he's taking the items from the back seat. Javi swings a backpack filled with his stuff, including clothes, and the bag where you have your gifts. You take it from him without him noticing, and he takes out a chocoflan.

You hear the house door open, and people beckon you over. Javi closes the door and takes your hand in his. He leads you up to the entrance, and you hear gasps and mutters coming from your family.

“¡Ay, mi sobrinita! (Oh, my little niece!)" one of your uncles yells as you're inches away from the door.

“¡Tío!” you exclaim, happy to see him. Before you can say anything else, he gives you a bear hug. You slowly push off to turn to Javi, who is still holding your hand. “Tío, this is Javier, my boyfriend." Your uncle's eyes widen a little, but it's quickly replaced with joy.

“Javi, él es mi tío Nicolás, es el tío de mi papá (Javi, this is my uncle, Nicolás, he's my dad's uncle)," you explain to your boyfriend for the night.

Javi gently untangles your laced hands and extends his hand to your uncle. “Buenas noches. ¿Cómo está? (Good evening! How are you?)"

“Hola, Chavalo. Bien gracias (Hey, kid. Fine, thanks)," your uncle replies and shakes Javi's hand. "And you?"

Their handshake ends and Javi pulls you into his side. "Me alegra. Estoy muy bien ya que estoy con ella (I'm glad to hear that. I'm very well now that I'm with her),” Javi tells your uncle, giving him a dashing smile while he gives you a lovey-dovey look.

You don't know who is happier at Javi's response—your uncle or you. "Oh, here, I brought dessert," Javier hands your uncle Nicolás the custard dessert with a chocolate cake base.

“Come in, come in,” the older man ushers you inside the house.

“Miren quien llegó (Look who arrived),” your uncle's voice rumbles throughout the house. Footsteps make their way to you three, and your family's faces light up. Voices overlap, greeting you, but they seem confused over the man beside you.

“¡Hola!” you smile. "This is Javi, he's my boyfriend," you introduce, rubbing his arm.

Javi doesn't get a word in because your cousin slaps his back and says, “¡Habla, pe causa!” Javi smiles and tells him good evening.

Once your cousin goes away, you whisper to Javi, "That was César, and he said, 'What's up, man.'"

"I knew that," Javi lies, running his tongue over his cheek.

“¡Como que ya tienes novio! (What do you mean you have a boyfriend!)" a familiar voice screeches from the living room.

You cringe as you hear your mom's angry voice and your dad telling her to calm down. Fuck, I forgot I have to tell my parents about Javi, you think.

When your parents see Javi, they physically relax. "Javi!" She gasps. “¿Él es tu novio? (He's your boyfriend?)” Your mom asks.

“Él es mi novio,” you confirm. Javi's heart leaps because somehow in Spanish, you calling him your boyfriend sounds a million times better.

"¡Ay, qué alegría! (Oh, what joy!)" She says and clasps her hands. For a long time, she's asked you if you two are anything more than friends, and she's always disappointed when you say no.

"I'm happy for you, mija," your dad tells you, hugging you.

"Thank you, Dad," you say relieved at their quick acceptance of Javi.

"Tu mamá está muy feliz (Your mom is very happy). It's just that you told your aunt first, and she was blindsided," your dad fills you in, and you hear your name being called. You whip your head to the kitchen and see your aunt coming to you with her arms extended.

“Titi Yalissa," you muffle into her curly hair. Your aunt jumps up and down with you in her arms. "Oh, I missed you so much," she says and lets go of you once she remembers what you told her. "Where's your boyfriend?"

You grab Javi's hand and bring him closer to your aunt. "Javi, this is my aunt Yalissa."

“Titi, this is the guy I told you about. His name is Javier."

"Es un placer conocer al hombre que tiene a mi niña tan feliz (It's a pleasure to meet the man who has my little girl so happy)."

Javier smiles at your aunt's happiness and decides to comment on her house and thank her for the invitation. "It's my pleasure. Tiene una casa hermosa (you have a beautiful house)," he pauses to look over at you, “como su sobrina (like your niece). Thank you for inviting me." Your heart thuds in your chest at Javi's words.

Everyone around you coos and awws, and you feel your ears burn.

"Let me show you your rooms, so you can set your things."

You and Javi follow your aunt up the stairs and into the hallway. She comments on how good you two look together and how it's adorable that you're matching. Her observation catches you off guard, and you look at both of your outfits. Oh my God! Is that why he asked me what color my dress was? Did he want to match? While you're lost in thought, you miss Javi's charming words about how perfect you look.

"Javi, this will be your room," your aunt points at a room on the left side. She says your name and then points at the room at the end of the hall, "Your room is still untouched, and you have your clothes there if you need anything."

Someone calls her from the kitchen, and she apologizes, telling you to come downstairs when you're ready for some food.

When Javier hears her descend the stairs, he asks you, "We're not sharing a room?"

"No. She's kinda against pre-marital sex."

Javi shoots you a look that says he knows you haven't made a vow of chastity.

"Okay, she doesn't know that," you say.

Javi sets his backpack in his room, and you make your way to the small dining room.

"Nena (babygirl), how are you?”

“Tía Mercedes!” you scream once another one of your aunts comes into view.

“Every day you get more and more beautiful!” she says to you. “Oh, and where is that boyfriend of yours? Tu tío Beto me dijo que vos ya tenés uno (Your uncle Beto told me you already have one.)”

For what feels like the hundredth time, you introduce Javi. Your aunt gushes over him and is scandalized when she hears he hasn’t eaten yet.

“No puedo creer que no les han dado nada de comer (I can't believe they haven't given you anything to eat). Come here.” She leads you to where the food is laid out, and to say it’s a lot is an understatement.

"Okay, so we’ve got croquetas, empanadas, ceviche, tamales, pasteles, chuchitos, pan con pollo, carne asada, hallacas, chimichurri, tostones, hornado de chancho, pavo al horno, chipa, pan dulce, y no se qué más." Your aunt lists off the myriad of food, whether it’s side dishes or main courses.

“And to drink, there’s coquito, champurrado, atol, ponche, arroz con leche, café con queso, chocolate caliente. If you want something else, you can ask Beto. It’s probably in the kitchen.”

You and Javi grab whatever you crave and add it to your plate before heading to the larger dining room. Everything had been going well until you saw your ex. Javi noticed you tense up, and he followed your line of sight, landing on your ex-boyfriend, Caleb. With food and drinks in his hands, Javi couldn’t physically comfort you. A soft whisper from him, a simple “Hey,” was enough to unfreeze you, and you both walked to your seats, strategically far away from Caleb and his girlfriend.

Dinner went by smoothly. Your family was eager to learn about the new man in your life, and you explained that before becoming your boyfriend, he had been your best friend and someone you trusted with your life. One of your little cousins was curious about how he asked you to be his girlfriend. To your surprise, Javi spun an elaborate story about taking you stargazing and making it official under the night sky. He described the story with such vivid detail that it brought tears to your eyes, and your family found it incredibly heartwarming. Little did they know, part of those tears were tinged with sorrow, knowing that after this night, the charade of this "relationship" would come to an end. The other part of you felt pure love for Javi, appreciating the effort he was putting into making your family believe in your fake romance.

After clearing the plates and sharing the story, Javi couldn’t help but notice Caleb shooting daggers his way. Frankly, he didn’t care about Caleb's feelings, but when he saw him staring at you, Javi couldn’t suppress the desire to leap across the table and strangle him. Thankfully, one of your cousins interrupted and announced that a game of lotería would be played outside if anyone wanted to join.

You take your cup of ponche, and Javi grabs his cup of atol as you both make your way to the backyard, where a table is already set up for the game. Soon, the table of 25 is full, and some have to wait for the next round. With beans in hand, you eagerly listen for the first card to be called.

“Ahí les va la primera tarjeta (Here comes the first card),” Uriel, your favorite cousin's husband, warns. He shuffles the cards in the deck and flips the first one over.

“La Sirena (the siren).”

You squeal and instantly put your bean on top of the square where a siren is underwater. You hear groans from the people who didn’t have the siren on their cards. Javi, not having much luck, simply watched you with the biggest smile, reveling in your excitement over the lead.

Uriel flips the next card and announces, “La Luna (the moon).”

This time, neither you nor Javi has luck. Displeased, you watch as Caleb places a bean on his card.

“¡El soldado! (The soldier!)”

You look at your card—nothing. You look at Javi’s card—still nothing. A feeling of being watched makes your head turn to Caleb, and he’s smirking at Javi because he got another bean on his table. “Not good at lotería,” Caleb tuts, “is there something you’re actually good at?” he says condescendingly. 

You have half a mind to tell him all the ways Javi is perfect, even throwing in a few lies about your fake intimate life, but Javi rests his right hand on your thigh, and just like that, all your hatred bubbles away.

“Before I call the next one, does anyone have all three characters?” Whoops and cheers come from a few uncles, cousins, and family friends. “Okay, does anyone have a line nearly filled?” Uriel asks another question, and this time is met with silence.

“Bueno (Oh well),” he moves on and pulls from the deck, “La maceta (flowerpot).” You wish you had one of those to throw at Caleb’s head. Your wish is answered when someone yells, “¡Aguas!” You and Javi instantly duck, and much to your dismay (not), Caleb doesn’t, and the flying rag hits him right between his eyes. He groans in pain and starts to pick a fight with Marta, one of your cousins. Marta's fiancé stands up for your cousin, “Sos un hijo de remil putas. He told you to watch out. It's your fault you didn't listen." Everyone agrees with Flavia, and they tell Caleb he should've ducked. Your ex finally shuts up, and your family urges Uriel to draw the next card.

“El cotorro (the parrot)." Javi moves quickly and places the bean he's had in his hand for a while. You're so happy for him; that you nearly spill your drink onto the table.

A few more cards are drawn, and you haven't made as much progress, but Javi, on the other hand, has his card nearly full of beans. He needs four consecutive beans in a straight line, but he's missing two beans to win.

“La mano (The hand)." 

“Concha-tu-madre,” an uncle seethes in frustration as he doesn't have the hand on his card, but you know who does—Javi. 

“Ya me agüitaron (Ya’ll bummed me out). I'm going to put on music," your cousin, Darío, says, abandoning the game and hooking up his phone to the speaker. 

“El árbol (the tree.)” You sigh in disappointment as the last character Javi needs isn't called.

Music and various curse words fill the air, including but not limited to coño, jueputa, mamaguevo, japiro. 

"We have four potential winners," Uriel announces, "Y ahora... el gorrito (and now... the little hat)." 

“Mierda,” Javi's voice falls into a whisper because he doesn't have that card. By this point, he's memorized the entirety of his table, and when the hat was called, he knew it wouldn't be on his card.

You look around the table and see that Javi is among three people who need one more bean to win. 

"Let's see," Uriel says as he shuffles the cards. “El valiente (the brave man)” is yelled, and before you can react, Javi screams, "Lotería!" 

Everyone whips their head to your 'boyfriend,' and Uriel rushes to check Javi's card. You're filled with joy and practically bouncing in your seat. 

"We have a winner!" Uriel whoops, patting Javi's shoulder. 

"Beso, beso, beso (kiss, kiss, kiss)" your family chants, wanting you to celebrate with your boyfriend. Your breathing labors, and you don't know how to get out of it. Luckily, you get called to the kitchen, and Javi looks relieved. Your heart drops. He didn't want to kiss me. You excuse yourself and hurriedly make your way to the kitchen.

Javi's left in his seat trying to regulate his heartbeat. He didn't want to kiss you. Not because he didn't want to. God, he wanted to taste your lips, but he's scared that if he kisses you, he'll never stop.

In the kitchen, you scoop food into Tupperware for you and Javi, when you hear a man say, "You said he was just a friend,” the voice accuses. 

"Caleb," you spit with venom.

"You're with him now?" he asks hands in his pant pockets.

"I am. And I'm very happy with Javi," you say simply, adding rice to your blue Tupperware container.

"Come on, we were so good together. Don't you remember? We could be great again. Don't you want that?"

"No is the answer to every single thing you just said."

"What's so special about him? You didn't want to tell your family about us, but you bring him around?" Your ex is furious. When he saw you walk in with that dress and with Javi, hands intertwined and looking up at him like he was the best prize, he nearly lost it.

You turn around with your back to the entrance of the second dining room and point the spatula at your ex. "What isn't special about Javi is the better question. He's sweet, kind, determined, funny, and everything you're not. That's not all I love about him though; he makes me feel loved and heard, and he's my best friend. Javi is everyone's dream."

Caleb scoffs, and his only defense is, "What kind of name is Javi?"

You feel a possessive hand on your stomach, and it moves you back towards the owner's body. No, no, I can take care of this myself, you think, and then his cologne hits your nose, and you feel the warmth of his body, and your mantra of standing up by yourself evaporates.

"What kind of name is Caleb? Why don't you go back to your ex and leave my girlfriend alone?" Javier says, voice deeper than usual, making the rat of your ex retreat with his tail between his legs.

"Want me to kick his ass?" Javi questions.

"Nah, I have a feeling it'll ruin the holiday spirit. Thank you for that though."

You realize he could've heard your conversation with Caleb and ask, "How much of that did you hear?"

"When he made fun of my name, which is fantastic, by the way," he responds.

"Javi is a fantastic name," you assure him, "Javi," you say his name, testing it like it's the first time saying his name.

Javi nearly facepalms himself because hearing his name falling from your lips is making him harden again. Not to mention how you defended him to your ex. He's never heard kinder words about himself until you. Lately, Javi has felt like a failure. He failed to get into the DEA academy, and it was terrifying to think he would feel like that for the rest of his life. But when he's in your presence, everything else just melts away.

"How was my family while I left you unsupervised?" You ask, resting your head on his chest.

"Great. One of your cousins talked about the fact that the Christmas celebration was a pagan holiday and another about companies making a fortune based on Christmas. Your uncle, Ramon, I think started talking about los terrenos y le quitaron la corona (inherited land and they took away his corona beer.)”

"Oh god," you sound horrified, "I'm sorry about my family."

Javi slides his hands up and down your arms, "you have nothing to be sorry for. Mi familia también es así o peor (my family is like that or worse)." He knows he shouldn't say the words but can't help himself, "Our kids will have the biggest family."

Your mouth drops in surprise, and your mind flashes with images of you having a family with Javi, and your heart feels like it can explode.

"Your cousin was behind you," Javi says, looking past you.

A wave of disappointment washes over you. "Oh."

Javi lied. He didn't say that to convince your family about your relationship; he said it because he meant it.

The clock strikes 12 AM, beginning the 25th of December, and you all have to give out hugs to every single person at the party. Thankfully, it won't be awkward since Caleb and his plus-one left an hour ago. You get hugs from your entire family, and they each tell you how much they love you and how proud they are of you. When you reach Javi, you go for a side hug, but he pulls your face into his chest, and you exchange ‘feliz navidads.’ His smell is so comforting you want to stay there forever. You don’t pull away until someone announces it’s time to open gifts.

You take out the large wrapped box inside the bag you brought and give the gift to your little cousin, Gio. You bought him plenty of Hot Wheels and a racetrack that will take up a significant amount of space in his living room. Gio leaps into your arms and tells you you’re the ‘bestest cousin in the world.’ Your older cousin tells you she’ll give you her gift before going upstairs to the balcony to see the fireworks.

When Sandra leaves, Javi calls your attention. "Amor ven," the nickname falls easily from his beautiful lips; it makes you swoon. He pats the seat next to him, and in a few seconds, you’re next to him.

“I got you something,” Javi says nervously reaching into his pants pocket. He retrieves a square box and hands it to you gently like he’s scared you’ll move your hand and drop it.

You take the box fully into your hand. You lift the top, and your eyes begin to water. You scold yourself internally that this shouldn’t make you cry, but the beautiful necklace makes it impossible not to. It’s not because it’s a pretty necklace but you’re tearing up because of the letter attached to the gold chain – a J for Javier.

Javi misconstrues your tears for hatred. “I can exchange it for something else,” he’s quick to spit out."

“I love it, Javi,” you promise, words dripping with sincerity. “¿Me lo pones? (Can you put it on me?)” you ask him, getting ready for him to clasp the necklace.

His fingertips make contact with your nape, leaving goosebumps in their wake. You briefly wonder if that will happen every time you make the slightest contact tonight. Javi adjusts the necklace and clasps it, ensuring he doesn’t accidentally get some of your skin, which he was afraid he’d do because his hands were developing a thin layer of sweat.

“Done,” he tells you breathlessly, and you turn around to show him.

He feels ridiculous that seeing his initial on your chest makes him go crazy. Yes, part of him feels beyond happy that you liked your gift. When he was shopping, trying to find you a gift, he stumbled upon a jewelry store, and he knew he had to get it for you. He didn’t buy it to ‘brand you’. Javi genuinely wanted you to carry a part of him, just like he always carries you everywhere he goes.

You hear the first fireworks go off, and Javi says, “Ya es hora para los cuetes (it’s time for the fireworks).” He helps you get up, and everyone makes their way up the mahogany stairway. You meet Sandra on the 2nd floor, and she gives you a white and red striped metallic-wrapped box. That childhood excitement of opening presents is still there. You feel giddy and tug at the taped ends to rip the paper. Once you’re able to see a sliver of the actual gift, you hold it to your chest.

“Sandra! You did not just gift me a sex toy!” You whisper-yell, the shock and embarrassment evident in your tone.

Sandra was known for being direct; she was your older cousin but more of a big sister. She had been a reliable source of guidance, especially when it came to your body, relationships, and intimacy. In fact, you had learned more from her than from your mandatory sixth-grade sex Ed class. You'd often sought her advice, grateful for her non-judgmental attitude. Sandra was always there to help, whether it was explaining innuendos or first-period crises. You remember when you got your first period, you ran to her after your mom called her for moral support. So, in a way, you shouldn't have been surprised by the gift when you complained to her about your trusty wand giving up on you.

“I recall getting a phone call telling me one of your favorites was no longer working. But with that boyfriend of yours, I don’t think you’ll be needing this, so I can take it back,” she smirks, enjoying making you flustered and sputtering on your words.

“A gift is a gift. You can’t take it back,” you argue, hugging it further into your chest. With the night you’ve had, you’re 100% certain the toy will have its grand premiere.

“Ooo using it with your man tonight to spice things up, I like that.”

You turn around and see Javi standing there with his hands by his side. His pretty lips are parted in an ‘o,’ and you can’t believe he just saw your cousin gifting you a sex toy for Christmas.

“And that’s my cue to leave,” Sandra gives you a peck on the cheek and slips past you to go to the stairs and up another floor.

“Woah. That’s certainly a gift,” Javi states.

You want the ground to swallow you whole. Here you are hugging a fucking sex toy in the middle of the hallway with the man you love staring at the gift.

“I’m going to put this in my room,” you say robotically and make a run for your room. Oh my god, oh my god, he did not just see that. With the box still in your arms, hoping you don’t run into anyone, you open the door to your room just enough to slip inside and shut the door. Your heart is beating erratically, and you consider staying in your room for the rest of the night, but you know they’ll be calling for you soon. You finally unlock your arms and take the gift into your hands. There’s still wrapping paper covering the gift, so you take it off and take in the toy for the first time. You mistook the handle for a dildo. It wasn’t a plastic dick you thought you received; it was a clit stimulator. Color? Red.

After you placed your new gift on top of your bed and covered it with a sweater, you found the courage to face Javi. You opened your door and found Javi with his fist raised as if he was a second away from knocking.

“Let’s go,” you croak, hoping he won’t ever bring up what happened a few minutes ago.

Javi wordlessly agrees, and you both walk to the stairs in silence to go to the balcony. As you approach the final stairs, you hear more fireworks go off, but their timing isn’t consecutive, so you know the big event is yet to come. Once you’re outside, near the entrance, there’s a table with drinks that range from alcohol to traditional beverages to a mix. You take a Corona, and Javi picks up a glass of coquito. The balcony is packed, but it's big enough that you don’t feel like packed sardines. Music is blasting on the speakers; some of your family is off dancing, and some men are huddled around talking about work, while your younger cousins are playing with their new toys in a corner. You still haven’t talked to Javi, and it’s slowly killing him. He didn’t mean to embarrass you by walking in on Sandra giving you your gift, but when he overheard the term 'sex toy,' it was as if an invisible force nailed him to the floor. Javi racks his brain for how to start a conversation with you. He knows the firework show will commence any minute now, and he won’t be able to get a word in.

"You look beautiful," he blurts out before his brain can catch up with his mouth. Okay, not what he wanted to start off with, but it’s definitely not a lie.

“Thank you,” you say sheepishly as the fireworks start going off one after another.

“I mean, you look beautiful every day,” Javi says in the midst of a chrysanthemum exploding in the sky.

"What?" you reply, struggling to make out his words over the resounding explosions.

Once the sounds die down, your aunt Odilia passes by, catching sight of you and Javi standing closer, facing each other. “¿Como están los enamorados? (How are the lovebirds?),” she says with adoration before moving on. Her statement prompts a few head turns from your family, who go on to comment about how cute you look with your boyfriend.

"I said," Javi begins, lowering himself to your ear, "You look beautiful. You always do, but tonight..." He stands up straight, locking eyes with you. Javi delicately strokes your cheek with the back of his fingers. “Es como si me hubieras puesto bajo tu hechizo (It’s like you’ve put me under your spell),” he confesses softly, his voice filled with adoration.

You find yourself unable to conjure a reply. Your entire focus is consumed by him—the way he smiles, the dimple on full display, the stray curls tousled from dancing, and the warmth of his fingers against your cheek. His nails graze your skin ever so slightly, leaving you questioning if it's a figment of your imagination. A fleeting thought crosses your mind, wondering what it would be like to feel his nails embedded into your hips as he guides you in rhythmic movement. Taking a deep breath to regain composure, you inhale his scent, causing your head to spin. In the midst of your reverie, Javi's voice pulls you back.

"Your family is expecting a kiss. May I?" he asks, breaking the spell.

"What?" you respond, dumbfounded. While you heard him, the question leaves you in disbelief.

“¿Te puedo besar?” he repeats, his heart seemingly pounding out of his chest, laying his intentions bare.

As you nod and rasp out a breathless "yes,", Javi cups your cheeks with a gentle urgency, bringing his lips to yours in a passionate collision. It feels like heaven with his mouth molding seamlessly with yours. His taste is a delightful concoction of coconut, Don Q rum, cinnamon, and condensed milk—remnants of the coquito he had earlier. In the intoxicating embrace, you clutch his shirt, pulling him closer, savoring every fleeting second because it could be the first and last kiss you'll ever share.

Opening your mouth wider, you send a silent invitation, and he responds, his tongue tangling with yours, the passionate sounds blending harmoniously with the distant fireworks. Amid the explosive bursts in the night sky, the sounds of your fervent kiss are almost lost, and worked up and lost in the moment, you can't help but whimper into his mouth. When the sound of your own desire reaches Javi's ear, he knows he should pull away before the intensity escalates. Reluctantly, Javi breaks the kiss, mindful of the familial audience surrounding you. Both your chests rise and fall in tandem, the shared breathlessness lingering in the air. The post-kiss silence is punctuated by the distant echoes of the ongoing fireworks.

Separated but still entwined in the magic of the moment, you catch your breath. You admire the way Javi's brown eyes reflect the vibrant colors bursting in the sky. Javi gazes back into your eyes, marveling at the way they brighten with each explosion in the sky. It's a parallel to his own feelings as if miniature fireworks detonate in his heart whenever he looks at you. His earlier realization holds true; having kissed you, he never wants to stop.

"Okay, well, I'm going to bed," you say, gesturing toward the door, your eyes avoiding his gaze.

“Buenas noches,” he replies, a tinge of sadness coloring his voice.

You steal one last glance at him and urge yourself to get to your room before you throw your friendship down the drain for another kiss. So that’s what you do; you open the door, whisper one last goodbye, and shut the door. Javi closes his eyes, scolding himself for making things awkward. As he goes to his room, he focuses on thinking about what to do to fix your friendship. One thing he knows is that he can’t lose you.

Inside your room, you press against the wooden door. You have no idea how you’ll get through tomorrow, much less through the rest of your life. our eyes wander around, taking in the familiar walls of the room. You’ve had your own room at your aunt's house since you were a little girl, and there are some things that have remained the same. There's a shelf against a wall that contains a few of your stuffed animals from your childhood. You took down your posters from when you were a teen but kept the same paint color of dark red because you knew you couldn’t have your room all black. 

Realizing you still wear Javi's jacket, you gently remove it, placing it on your bed. You hate that it looks like it belongs in your room. You sigh and go to your bathroom to get ready to toss and turn in your bed.

In the midst of removing your makeup, having already brushed your teeth, a soft knock interrupts the quiet solitude of your room. Confused, you quickly dry your face and rush to open the door, wondering who it could be. It’s Javi. He's outside your door, his hair a mess like he ran his hands through it repeatedly.

"Can I come in?" he asks, his eyes searching yours.

"Javi! They'll kill me if they see you in my room," you whisper.

"Please, cariño?" 

His tone is filled with a vulnerability that softens your resolve. You take a quick glance down the hallway and find it deserted, so you quickly pull him into your room and shut the door quietly. As you assess him, clad in grey sweats and a black long-sleeve compression shirt, a rush of desire floods your body. Thoughts of peeling off his clothes and kissing him all over stir a wetness between your legs, leaving you certain your underwear is ruined after spending the day with Javi. 

"I'm sorry," he interrupts your dirty thoughts, and confusion crosses your face.

Sorry? Why is he sorry?

He sees the confusion written all over your face and continues, “I’m sorry for kissing you.”

What?

“If I knew it would make you uncomfortable, I wouldn’t have done it. Your friendship means the world to me. I’m sorry I ruined it. Cariño, what do I need to do to make us go back to normal? I’ll do anything,” Javi pleads with you.

You shake your head furiously. “No, Javi, you didn’t ruin anything. It didn’t make me uncomfortable,” you promise.

He breathes out a sigh of relief after you tell him he didn’t mess up the best thing that’s happened to him. “Why did you shut down after… after we kissed?”

“I don’t know, Jav,” you shrug, looking away. You feel your eyes sting at the tone of his voice. He sounds hurt. You've hurt the person you love, and you want to take him into your arms and apologize.

“Please don’t do that,” he implores, reaching for your hand. “Dime (tell me).”

A wave of apprehension washes over you; confessing your feelings is a leap into the unknown. You worry about the potential shift in dynamics, but you sense that Javi believes your withdrawal stems from him. “If I tell you, and you don’t like what I say, promise me we’ll forget this conversation,” you request, your lip caught between your teeth.

“What’s so bad you can’t tell me?” 

“Promise me, Jav,” you repeat, aware of the simplicity but needing that ounce of reassurance.

He nods solemnly. “Te lo prometo (I promise you).”

“Javi, I like you. So much,” your voice falls to a whisper. The ball is now in his court, freeing you from the weight of what-ifs.

Javi's reaction is priceless. The tension that once knitted his eyebrows together dissipates, giving way to a radiant smile that stretches from ear to ear. Leaning in, he cradles your chin in his hand and kisses you, a taste of mint lingering on his lips. This time, the kiss is tender, and gentle—a dance of shared feelings that leaves him dizzy and his stomach aflutter. As he withdraws, his forehead presses against yours.

“I like you too. For a long time now,” he confesses, the words clear and resolute.

“Really?” you ask incredulously, feeling like you're walking on air. This moment, a culmination of countless fantasies, was the very last scenario you expected to become reality.

“Yeah,” he affirms with a nod. The truth lingers on the tip of his tongue. “De hecho, te amo (In fact, I love you).”

“I love you too,” you reply with a smile, your hands slowly tracing up his chest. One hand passes his broad shoulders and reaches his nape. A gentle brush of your hands against his skin sends a surge of warmth through him. Your fingers run through his hair, eliciting a low groan from Javi, and you yearn to hear more.

“Javi, te necesito (Javi, I need you),” you murmur with half-lidded eyes.

He doesn't want to risk embarrassing himself with words, so he gently takes your hand off his hair and guides you towards your bed.

Walking with playful curiosity, he asks, "Am I the first guy you've sneaked into your room?"

"Mmm... I plead the fifth," you decide to answer coyly.

He narrows his eyes, "That's a yes then."

"¿Si te pones celoso, porque me preguntas? (If you get jealous, why would you ask me?)" you question him playfully as you hit the bed.

Javi's jaw ticks, and he says, "I'll make you forget about them."

His tone stirs a needy feeling in you, and you reply, " Sigue de perico, y no vamos hacer todo lo que quiero (Keep talking, and we won't be able to do everything I want)."

Tugging down on his shirt, you give him the signal. He promptly takes it off, treating you to your very own private show.

"Oh my god," you groan appreciatively when you see him shirtless—tan skin, toned stomach, and freckles on display. The grey sweatpants hang low on his hips, showcasing the V line and a dark patch of hair.

Javi revels in the effect he has on you. ”Turn around," he commands with dark eyes.

You instantly comply, spinning around so he can reach your zipper. Instead of tearing your dress off, he hugs you from behind.

“I don’t know if I told you before, but I really love this dress,” Javi says, running his hands over the velvet material. “Do you know how many times you made me hard tonight?” He confesses to having excused himself to the restroom multiple times to handle his hard-on discreetly.

"Javi," you whine impatiently, the revelation only intensifying the sticky mess between your thighs.

He pulls your zipper down, but you turn around, reaching your shoulders to slip the dress off, letting it pool on the hardwood floor.

"Dios mío (My God)," he exhales with a shaky breath.

"¿Te gusta? (Do you like it?)" you ask, referring to your lingerie that matches your dress. You're wearing a burgundy thong and a matching bra with lace material, revealing pebbled nipples. His fingers twitch, and he pulls you by the waist.

"Me encanta (I love it)," Javi whispers in your ear. His voice makes you slump against him as he unclasps your bra. “Why did you wear this?” he asks, his kisses trailing down your bare shoulder, devoid of judgment or ill will, just curiosity.

"You know what they say, 'to hope for the best, plan for the best.'"

"I don't think that's how it goes, baby," Javi chuckles into your shoulder and then presses his lips on your neck.

“Oh,” you say dumbly, savoring his kisses.

"Thank you for the outfit, my beautiful girl," he says, instructing you to get on the bed. As you settle on the mattress, you watch as Javi begins to remove his pants.

You watch in awe as his swollen cock presses against his stomach, and an undeniable desire to have it in your mouth engulfs you. Can a dick be pretty? God, his is so beautiful, you think to yourself. Javi gracefully crawls onto the bed, his hand reaching for your unclothed breasts.

“Mmm… so beautiful,” he hums, popping one of your tits into his mouth.

“Oh!” you exclaim, a mix of shock and pleasure coursing through you. Your arms extend onto the bed, and in the throes of passion, you accidentally hit something. The noise prompts Javi to lift his mouth from you and remove the blue sweater that conceals whatever your hands came in contact with. To his surprise, he discovers the present your cousin gifted you earlier.

“Clit and nipple stimulator,” he reads off the box.

Embarrassment washes over you, even though he just had your nipple in his mouth. Before you can say anything, Javi tears the box open and retrieves the toy. He presses the 'on' button, and it comes to life with a soft hum.

“Mi color favorito,” he says with a smirk.

Your brain struggles to form a coherent sentence. Javi sets the suction toy beside you and resumes attending to your nipples with his mouth. Lost in the sensation, your head falls back onto the bed. Suddenly, you feel a vibration around your other nipple. Lifting your head, you see Javi using the red wand on your right nipple.

“Oh God, Javi, I need you inside me,” you moan.

His response is muffled by your soft breasts. Gripping his hair, you lift him off you with a bit of force.

“I need to taste your pussy first,” he says with blown-out eyes.

“No,” you protest, craving him desperately.

It's not what he wanted to hear. “Please?” he insists. “I know I’ll cum embarrassingly fast, and I need to give you something before that happens.”

No. I want you now, you beautiful man. “Just a little bit,” you compromise. Normally, you'd eagerly jump at the prospect of him expressing a desire to eat your pussy, but you're so unbelievably turned on.

He toys with the band of your thong, and you lift your hips to let him remove it. Soon, they're in his hands, tossed aside on the floor. Laid bare for him, you're naked except for your jewelry. The gold 'J' nestles between your breasts, the left one still wet from his saliva, while your pussy glistens with slick accumulated throughout the night.

“Eres tan hermosa. Nunca he visto nada como tú y nada se compara (You're so beautiful. I've never seen anything like you, and nothing compares),” he confesses sincerely. Seeing you laid out before him, looking at him like he hangs the stars, leaves him breathless. He kneels on the floor, gently pulling your legs to be on either side of his face. Javi wastes no time as he begins to lick your cunt.

You gasp, placing one leg on his shoulder for added support. Responding to your silent request, Javi lifts your other leg onto his opposite shoulder.

“Ahh!” you cry out when his mouth presses closer onto your pussy, and he begins to devour you. His tongue explores, collecting all of your wetness into his mouth. Fuck, she tastes so good. I've been waiting to have her in my mouth for so long.

“So sweet, baby girl,” he murmurs between your thighs, causing vibrations that intensify the pleasure. You're already sweating and out of breath, unable to believe how quickly his mouth is bringing you to the edge.

He momentarily stops licking your folds and wraps his lips around your pearl. Your legs jerk, and you can't help but scream out his name. Javi quickly shushes you, urging you to be quiet, though his own noises betray the arousal he feels. He promises himself that once he can take you to his place, he'll never ask you to quiet down.

Opening your eyes, you're captivated by a sinful sight. Javi's intense and piercing gaze meets yours, the obsidian of his eyes seamlessly bleeding into the rich brown of his irises. Simultaneously, his tongue delves into your entrance, a sensation so electrifying that you can no longer endure the sweet torture.

“You’ve made me wetter, Javi, please fuck me.”

“No,” he objects.

“Javi por favor. Mañana podemos hacer de todo, pero te necesito ahora mismo (Javi, please. Tomorrow we can do everything, but I need you now.)”

He chides, “terca (stubborn girl),” but relents, releasing your legs. Taking matters into your own hands, quite literally, you guide him onto your bed, pushing him to lie back as you straddle him.

He believes he's died and gone to heaven, with you on top of him—a dream come true. “Condom?” he rasps out.

“I’m clean and on Nexplanon,” you nod toward your arm. “Are you okay with that?”

Feeling his cock pulse at the thought of being with you without a barrier, Javi nods vigorously and says, “Me matas bebita (you kill me, baby girl).”

His words draw a smile from you as you reach behind, feeling the velvety skin of his arousal in your hand. With deliberate slowness, you stroke him up and down.

“Uhh… fuck!” Javi groans, tossing his head back onto your pillow. The raw, guttural sounds escaping him become music to your ears, encouraging you to keep stroking him. Precome coats your hand, and you use it to slickly spread the moisture over him as makeshift lube. Javi continues panting, and you decide it's enough.

Rising on your knees, you guide him to your entrance. His head breaches you, and an involuntary whine escapes your lips.

“Oh,” you gasp, squirming on his lap. 

“Mmm!” Javi’s jaw drops, unable to believe that you're creating such intensity with just his tip inside

You ride him to open up, moving yourself on his head. “God, Javi!” your body burns as you straddle him. 

“Told you…” he pauses, gritting his teeth. “I should've s-tretched you.” 

You shake your head. “I can take you. I just- uh! I just need some time.” Javi is big and thick, prolonging the process, but you'd rather struggle than have him prep you.

As you keep bouncing on his tip, Javi thrusts up into you, causing both of you to moan. He places both hands, previously gripping your sheets, on either side of your waist, helping him fit more of his cock inside you. You rock back, feeling yourself open up, and you lower yourself down.

Your mouth hangs open, and you wail as the thickest part of him is embraced by your walls. Javi groans heavily and embeds his nails on your waist. You moan at the small ripple of pain and work yourself to sink down some more.

“I-I thought- ah! que me querías calladita, (that you wanted me to quiet down) and look at you…uhh louder than me.”

“You feel s-oh!” Javi can’t finish his response because you fully sit on his cock. Your hips are flush with his, and he swears he can cum this instant. 

“Hold on,” he tells you, breathing heavily, eyelids closed, and stilling you.

Once he feels he’s regained some composure, he lifts you off him. You slowly start to rock back and forth, chewing your lip to keep from screaming out. 

“Does it feel good?” Javi asks, eyes open once more.

You meet his dark eyes and moan, “Mhm, s-so good… Oh! Javi," you whine, "So big… you’re so big.”

He pulsates inside you, a low groan escaping his lips. "You can't say that," he mutters, shaking his head, not to express disagreement but to calm himself. Not yet, not yet, he chants. 

“Why not? It’s true.” You argue, throwing your head back at the pleasure coursing through your veins.

“Shit, you’re gonna make me cum if you keep going. Then I won’t earn first place for the best sex this room’s ever seen,” he laughs lightly to mask his mortification because he knows he’ll be cumming soon.

"You're so much better than anyone else,” you assure him, seeing through the self-deprecating comment he made.

He lights up at your praise. "Yeah?”

"Yes! You make me so full,” you sigh, bouncing on him a little faster. Your hand movement transitions from his hips to both hands sprawled on his abdomen. Pressing your body closer to him at an angle, both of you shake with pleasure. You keep rocking against him, and all he can do is watch. Javi takes in the way your breasts bounce and the way your necklace shines. Overcome with desire and possessiveness, he sits up suddenly, making you whine when you feel his sweaty and hot body against yours.

Javi seeks your mouth, and you eagerly comply. Your mouths crash, and it's all tongue and teeth. He's moving you slowly against him, but it's still a delicious sensation, and you can't help but moan into his mouth. The air in your lungs is slowly decreasing, so you pull away, and your head falls onto his shoulder. With your mouth away from him, he's able to wrap his arms around you and rock up, up, up with intensity. His pace ignites something within you, and you bite his wet tan skin to muffle your cries. Javi feels you tighten on him, and he pants out, “How are you so perfect? No entiendo (I don’t understand.)”

You can't answer him; you just bounce on him, feeling the telltale sensation of your lower stomach nearing the finish line.

“Amor,” he groans. The word sounds like sweet honey coming from Javi's lips, and it makes you gasp. Javi catches on and asks you, “¿Te gusta cuando te digo así? (Do you like it when I call you like that?)”

“Sí,” you confirm. He adjusts the angle of your legs, causing the wind to knock out of you, and the only words you're capable of saying are, “Amor, amor, amor…” This is the first time you've ever called Javi ‘amor’, and it does something to him. He knows he’s got a minute max before he blows his load.

Frantically, he takes one hand off your body and scrambles to find something on the bed. Lost in ecstasy, you don't notice, but then you feel a vibration on your pearled nub, and you jump from surprise. In an instant, you look down and see Javi has the red toy and is using it against your clit. Your eyes begin to water as you reel in the feeling of the man you love inside you and the delicious sucking of the toy.

You don't warn him; you don't even process the thought yourself, but you begin to shake on top of Javi. You feel every nerve in your body— all seven trillion of them—explode. You come in silence with your mouth into a perfect ‘o’. 

Javi doesn’t let up his ministrations; he keeps thrusting his hips upwards and using the red wand, prolonging your high. “That’s it, amor, you look so pretty cumming for me,” he whispers full of adoration. “Good girl, good girl,” he chants as he works you through the most intense orgasm of your life.

Javi bites his lower lip, determined to make this moment last longer; he never wants it to end. Once your vocal cords start functioning again, you cup his face with one hand and, with desperation, you tell him, "Ven, amor, relléname (Come, my love, cum in me).”

Javi feels like fireworks are going off in his body. He keens at your words filled with love and desire for him; he has no choice but to obey. The dam in his abdomen breaks, and “Ahh!” he groans, voice broken and raspy, letting go of the toy. You feel his hips stutter as they lose their steady rhythm, and he pulsates and spasms, the warmth of his seed fills you as he climaxes in ropes. Your body is overworked and sensitive, but you keep bouncing on him to milk every drop. You can't look away from him. His eyelids are heavy, his mouth is parted and panting as he moans and growls hoarsely, his neck is extended showing all the veins, and his skin is flushed in a beautiful red hue. Javi repeats your name over and over as his high washes over him. You caress his nape and run your fingers through his hair as he comes down from it. His spend and yours drip out of you and onto Javi.

"Holy fuck, that was amazing," Javi laughs, and you feel the rumble in his chest.

"Yeah?" you ask coyly.

“Best of my life," he sighs and rolls you over so you're underneath him.

You laugh and crane your neck to give him a peck on the corner of his mouth. God, that sound, Javi thinks. "I love you," he says, knowing he'll never stop telling you those three words.

"I love you," you echo. "Come on, let's sleep," you tell him.

"I've got to clean you up first," he says, climbing off and pulling out of you. You whine at the loss and miss him inside of you already.

His expression looks pained as he looks between your parted thighs, seeing his seed seeping out of your puffy cunt. Javi fights with himself as he debates leaving you with his cum inside. His index and middle fingers are taken by you and guided to your opening.

"Push it all inside," you command, knowing he doesn't really want to wipe it away.

"But your bed and—"

“Me vale (I don’t care)," you interrupt. Javi has always been concerned about how his actions affect you, and you find it sweet. However, you want this. You know he won’t give in to his desires if he thinks you don’t want this. So, you have to convince him you do. “Please,” and just like that, he’s collecting the creamy liquid around your labia and pressing it back inside you. 

You're oversensitive, but you melt at the feeling of his thick and long fingers inside you. Gripping onto his bicep, you savor the sensation as he makes sure most of the sticky substance goes back inside you. Whatever remnants are on his fingers, he sucks them and closes his eyes at the taste. You stare up at him and swear you could go another round if he didn’t fuck the energy out of you. 

“Should I go back to my room?” Javi asks. He doesn’t want to, but maybe you’d rather sleep alone.

“Please stay,” you tell him, gripping his arm tighter.

He nods. “Okay, baby, I’ll stay.” You sit up on your bed and undo your covers. Javi walks across the room to turn off the light, and when he comes back, you’re underneath your quilt. He climbs in next to you and extends his left arm so you can snuggle to his side. 

“Buenas noches, amor,” he whispers.

“Good night, amor. I can’t wait to wake up next to you,” you tell Javi before you drift to sleep.

In the silence, he admires your features and says, “I can’t wait to make you my wife and wake up next to you for the rest of our lives. Feliz Navidad, mi vida”

Extended A/N: I wrote this when Frankie didn’t exist yet; I promise I just don’t write for Javi! 

The last chapter of IYW should be out next week if I’m able to recolor the gifs I need. Thank you for reading!

[dahliaslove]

⭑ DAVE MUSTAINE WITH A BIMBO / GIRLY GF

⭑ authors note: here are some random headcanons because i love channeling my inner karen smith (mean girls) and elle woods to write these

⭑ warnings: lots of kisses, dave is a smug asshole, small descriptions of sex (like two paragraphs), i got carried away with these hc’s because i’m delusional

⭑ pairing: dave mustaine x fem!bimbo!reader

- if we’re talking late 90s / 2000s dave?? this man will treat you like a princess, he will endlessly spoil you in kisses and gifts, i just know it. he’d be so gentle on you too, like he’s the type of guy that will never not have a hand around wrapped around your waist ( this is very effective when it come to him stoping you from tripping on air )

- constantly sitting in his lap and just playing with his hair as you talk about whatever happened to you that day or about a particular new line of makeup, he would not understand a single word you’re saying but is very supportive and nods along as you try to explain

- same goes for you whenever he talks about things you don’t understand, he’ll try to go in depth with his explanations untill you understand <33

- he’s possessive as hell, especially because you’re a little unobservant when it comes to the world around you, and he just wants to make sure nobody’s treating you wrong, it works too because dave is low key a little intimidating so i feel if he sent someone a glare they would back off pretty quickly

- thats not me saying that you can’t defend yourself though! dave has absolutely seen you tear into any pervy or downright disrespectful men and he loves that you’re not afraid to stand up for yourself or sacrifice a heel to throw at someone

- but he is a softie for you that will back you up and cuss anyone out if they try to mess with you :)

- speaking of him being possessive though . . . this man will absolutely cover you in hickeys, he doesn’t care if you complain about you having to use a lot of foundation to cover it. On days where you don’t have the time or patience to cover it he’ll walk next to you all smug and happy all day

- dave lowkey has a right being so smug though because i know he’d treat you so well in bed, like he’d give it to you any way you want it just cause you’re his girl ‘n he loves you so much

- if you want it rough? dave will have you bent in half beneath him with your legs thrown over his shoulders and your mascara running down your face as he thrusts his hip up into you at a bruising pace

- you want it soft? he’ll slowly rock his hips into you from behind as you watch a movie cuddled up on the couch. and he’ll shush you whenever your whines start to get too loud and tell you to focus on the movie.

- either way when you’re done he’s wiping away any of your tears and planting a sloppy kiss on you that smudges up your lip gloss even more.

- if you gave him bracelets to match with you he would wear it forever, like imagine seeing dave walk around in his black heavy metal tees while wearing a bunch of bright pink bracelets with hearts and glitter all over them that you made for him.

- and if the bracelets break or fall off, he’s coming to you with pouty lips and begging you to make another one like ‘baby, please make me another one? i didn’t mean to break it, i swear!’

- i swear sometimes you be thinking he’s the princess in the relationship because at least 80% of the time there’s some residual lipstick marks on his neck or his lips would constantly be at least a little pink from your lipstick rubbing off on him when you guys kiss

- oh my god . . . sitting with him while he practices on his guitar too, you’ll sit there all patiently while making more bracelets or reading some fashion magazine and when you’re not doing that you’re only ever watching the way his hands glide and pluck at the strings on his guitar ( he gets smug and teases you about this because he’s an ass and he loves the way your voice gets all whiny in pitch as you try to defend yourself against his teasing )

- and he’d never not have some sort of pink hairband or clip stored in his pocket for you but it’s fine because he knows you always carry things for him in your little pink purse like guitar picks or an extra water for if he gets thirsty :}

- in conclusion, someone get this man a silly little bimbo girlfriend who will always lay kisses on him !!! (i volunteer)

[hopelesslyromanticgay]

Playing with her hair - Vada Cavell X Reader

Y/N's POV:

"Why are people in horror movies so dumb!" my girlfriend Vada complains, "Like in the real world no one is stupid enough to do ANY of this. Like, no one would even pick up the phone in the first place!"

"Uh huh," I say to the girl sprawled out across my lap and the rest of the couch, not fully paying attention to what she's saying. I'm more focused on counting her freckles. A while ago, the question of how many freckles she had started to interest me and ever since it's been hard to get the idea out of my mind.

68...

69...

70...

"Y/N/N, are you listening to me?" she asks, breaking my trance, "am I rambling again, I'm sorry."

"Don't be! You're cute when you ramble," I reassure her. She looks over at me, a huge smile creeping over her face, her beautiful brown eyes shimmering in the dim light.

"In that case, I'm gonna keep going," she tells me, "what kind of dumbass decides it's a good idea to let their younger than six year old kid go out of the house alone on a rainy day!"

"Bad ones, I guess," I say absentmindedly. We keep on watching the movie we have on, neither of us really focused on it. without even thinking of it, my hands make their way to her hair.

"What are you doing?" she asks.

"Messing with your hair," I admit.

"Oh my god, are we acting like a normal couple?" she gasps.

"Do you not like it?"

"No!" she exclaims, "please don't stop."

"Oh my god, can I style it?"

"As long as it's not too fancy," she insists. One of the first things I ever learned about Vada is how much she hates looking fancy. She doesn't like the tight fitting "feminine" clothing, or the way makeup feels on her face. She hates the way her hair gets tightly pulled into an uncomfortable style, and then gelled into place. What's even worse is if she has to do all three of those TOGETHER. So I'm making it a point to keep it fairly informal, but still neat. 

I run my fingers through her dark brunette locks, trying to get the various knots out.

"Ow!" that one hurt!" she squeals.

"Sorry, oh my god are you okay?" I apologize, hoping I haven't hurt her too bad.

"I guess," she says sadly.

"Will this make it better?" I ask, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

She looks up at me smiling, "so much better." I brush a few strands of hair out of her face before continue styling it. She climbs into my lap, facing away from me so I can better access her hair.

I start parting her hair, so that there's an even amount of it on each side of her face.

"Oh my god Beverly get out of that house!" Vada screams, practically jumping up at the television, "I swear these people are so dumb."

"Vada, baby, you need to sit slightly still for this to look good," I say softly.

"Fine," she pouts, "why is you doing this kind of relaxing?"

"Maybe I just have that effect on you," I suggest.

"No, normally you make me so excited and happy, like a little kid seeing a bunch of candy and a lot of stuffies!"

"Aww, that's cute," I smile, my face getting warm.

"You're the best girlfriend ever," she compliments me, "I don't know how I wound up with someone as beautiful and funny and all around amazing as you."

"Maybe it's because you're the best girlfriend ever," I suggest.

"No you are!"

"No you!" We continue to argue about who's the better girlfriend, eventually realizing that we'd never get the other to agree with our opinion.

I end up sorting her hair into two neat braids, not too fancy, but presentable. 

"And voila!" I say, snapping a photo of the brunette to show her how she looks. She turns around quickly to view the photo.

"I look like Wednesday Addams if she had severe PTSD," she laughs, "but seriously, I love it."

"You do look like that!" I cackle, "what a funny coincidence!"

"Thank you, Y/N/N. I love it," she smiles softly, a blush creeping up on her cheeks.

"Sure thing, it was probably more fun for me than it was for you," I giggle.

"Well you can play with my hair anytime," she offers.

"Haha! You're gonna regret making that offer," I tell her.

[tsotf-fic]

♚ chapter 1 - when stars collide ♛

ii. birds of paradise

The Royal Family departed Cantham House for the Imperial Palace right as the Coruscant sun began to set. Within the speeder, nobody dared to speak under the looming shadow of Imperial surveillance.

Y/N leaned up against the transparisteel window, wistfully looking upon the planetwide city. Coruscant was unlike any other metropolis planet; as far as the eye could see, there were absolutely no traces of life that weren't artificially transplanted from somewhere else. To many, including the Organas, it served as a cold reminder of the effect humans had on the galaxy.

If planets were considered living beings, she pondered, Coruscant would certainly be considered a droid.

"Be careful not to smudge your makeup, dear," Breha said, breaking the silence and snapping Y/N out of her daydream.

To the untrained eye, Breha maintained an air of queenly confidence and serenity, but her family could tell she absolutely radiated with anxiety.

Bail gave her hand a gentle squeeze and smiled. "She'll be fine, my love. We all will."

Feathers rustled as Leia shifted uncomfortably in her dress. "I still have a bad feeling about this," she muttered under her breath.

The speeder landed on the platform just outside of the Imperial Palace, where a crowd of dignitaries, politicians, and socialites from all corners of the galaxy rushed to enter the party first. Each person seemed desperate to outperform the other with their custom-made costumes commissioned from the best designers in the galaxy. The costumes themselves included animals, historical and legendary figures, and various other symbols of planetary cultures.

Leia scoffed. "I bet the materials used to make those are worth more than entire planets in the Outer Rim!"

"I doubt anyone else here cares," Y/N replied, subtly gesturing towards a gaggle of visibly intoxicated politicians.

"Girls, please do not stare at your colleagues," Breha said under her breath with a fake smile plastered on her face.

Bail stifled a laugh as he watched none other than Representative Binks trip over the tail of his blarth costume. "How he manages to stay in power is certainly one of the galaxy's greatest mysteries," he whispered to Y/N and Leia, earning a glare from his wife.

"Perrin! This is a formal celebration, not an excuse for you to get drunk!"

Mon Mothma's husband stumbled out of the crowd. Sparkling, crystalline triangles jutted out from his outfit at all angles, and one could only assume it was meant to mimic the crystal cliffs north of Hanna city, albeit a very gaudy version.

"I jus' wanted to have a li’l fun before the party starts," he slurred, completely oblivious to his wife's anger at the spectacle he was causing. "It's a celebration! I'm celebrating!"

"Not like that," Mon retorted, practically dragging him by his collar. Whether intentional or not, her costume directly contrasted his with its organic, blossom-covered branches twisting elegantly around the lush green fabric of her dress. "If you plan on acting this way the whole night, don't even bother returning to the embassy!"

Most bystanders turned away in embarrassment as the Chandrilan senator berated her husband. Mon did her best to maintain her composure, but she was clearly on the edge of tears; it didn't help that Perrin's inebriated friends loudly tried to egg them on.

Breha and Bail exchanged sympathetic, knowing glances, almost as though they had an unspoken secret language–they were practically Lorrdians when compared to their Chandrilan counterparts.

Perrin wriggled out of his wife's grip and turned around to point an accusing finger at her. "And you wonder why your daughter hates you!" He hobbled off, leaving Mon standing there, flustered and humiliated. However, something about the way she quickly regained her composure told Y/N that she was happy to be rid of him.

Mon’s tear-pricked eyes lit up when she saw the apprehensive Alderaanian girl.

"Y/N, dear, how are you? My, you look so beautiful," she said, placing a hand on the side of Y/N's cheek, her face glowing with pride.

"It's so nice to see you, Auntie Mon! But I guess the situation requires that I refer to you as Senator Mothma," Y/N laughed.

"Oh, please, there's no need for that. People are already judging me for that little fiasco, so what harm would it do for us to drop a little formality?"

With that, the senator immediately drew in the younger woman for a tight embrace, albeit yielding enough to prevent their costumes from being crushed together. Y/N didn't know if it came from the flowers on her aunt's dress or a perfume on her skin, but something about the warm, delicate scent made her feel so calm, so at home. Perhaps it was just a reflection of its wearer's personality: gentle and elegant, with hidden strength beneath the surface, everything Y/N aspired to be. It pained her so much to see someone she held in such high regard be treated so poorly.

"We're here, too, you know," Bail's voice rang, interrupting their embrace.

"I figured as much, Your Highness," Mon playfully retorted. She pulled away from Y/N, giving her one last smile as she wiped the remnants of tears from the corners of her eyes, and went to greet her colleague. "It's always a pleasure to see the Royal Family."

After exchanging bows with the Viceroy and Queen of Alderaan, she turned to the young princess and her eyes lit up again, although not as bright as they were for Y/N.

"Ah! Matching costumes, how charming! I wonder whose idea that was." She turned to look at Breha, who let out an uncharacteristically loud laugh.

"What better way to compensate for our lack of costumes than by showcasing Alderaan's loveliest young ladies?" The queen responded, resting her hands on both girls' shoulders.

"I still think a costume would have suited you well, mother. You and father would have made for quite the pair of swans," Leia said with a tinge of sarcasm behind her voice as she patted her mother's hand.

"Well, perhaps you're right, but I'm afraid there are more pressing matters than us arriving at the ball as a flock of birds."

"I would have liked to be a bird," Bail chimed in, earning a chorus of laughter in response.

Y/N laughed along with the group, but something about the whole conversation felt stilted, awkward, especially considering how well they all knew each other. Perhaps it had to do with the discomfort of her being a mere noble in the presence of planetary leaders; as much as they tried to include her, she never truly fit in among them. They couldn't help that, though, none of them could. It was just the way things were. So, she continued to smile as she always did.

fanfiction by @kaleidoscope1967eyes

[jaketswine]

an embarrassment

1.3k

warnings: angst (hurt feelings, anger), language

summary: after a snarky comment thrown your way effectively ruins your day, you turn to the only person you know can help— jake.

Swinging open your apartment door and slamming it shut, you blew out the angry breath you had been holding the whole way home. You dropped your bags and slumped to the ground, allowing the wall behind you to hold your weight.

This was very abnormal for you. You were never anything but level-headed, gentle, maybe even a bit too nice at times.

But today you just couldn't take it anymore.

You’d been having such a good day, great even. The sun was finally shining, not a cloud in the sky. The coffee you had ordered was made perfectly, you loved the outfit you'd picked out– enough to put a little makeup on with it as well; you had even gotten the report you were working on ready to turn in way before your boss had asked for it.

You had been so productive and incredibly proud of yourself, which didn't happen often.

But of course, the one coworker who always seemed to have it out for you, had to make some snarky remark.

You just couldn’t do it.

Hearing your outburst sound out over the melodic tune he was playing, Jake quickly jumped to his feet, rushing down the hall to make sure you were alright.

He wasn't expecting to find you doubled over on the ground though. Clutching your knees to your chest. Taking deep, heavy breaths.

He stood for a few moments, trying to decide on the best way to handle this situation.

Timidly, he approached, kneeling down in front of you.

“Baby?”

Not wanting angry words to spew out of your mouth, you kept it shut, shaking your head no.

Fully seating himself on the floor, he reached out his hand, wrapping it around your calf. “Is it okay if I sit with you for a minute?”

You nodded, his touch already beginning to calm your racing heart. “Please,” you shot back weakly, tears beginning to well up now that you'd had a moment.

The small plea from your lips made Jake’s heart ache. He wanted nothing more than to help you through whatever it was that was causing this.

Sitting in silence together for what felt like hours, you finally worked up the courage to speak.

“Am I embarrassing?”

Startled by the question you'd just asked, Jake’s head shot up, looking at the top of your head with concern written all over his face. Wanting to make sure he had heard you correctly, he asked, “What did you just ask me?”

Still not willing to look him in the eye, you mumbled into your knees, repeating your question again.

In all honesty, Jake was completely dumbfounded, not sure of any answer he may give. You’d never asked such a question to him, and it was very rare that you let any insecurity affect you this much.

Using your love of physical touch to his advantage, he moved his hand from where it had been tracing shapes on the back of your calf, up to your chin. He lifted it slightly so you could look him in the eyes.

“Why would you ask me a question like that?”

Becoming frustrated that he wouldn’t just give you a straight answer, you snapped at him, “Just answer the damn question Jake.”

He startled slightly at the rise of your voice, knowing you to be a characteristically very soft speaker.

“No, y/n. You’re not embarrassing.” He cast a saddened look your way, “It bothers me that you could possibly think that of yourself. Will you please tell me what’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

He was practically pleading at this point, just wanting to know what he could do to help.

Wanting only one thing right now, you raised your head fully to look at him, striking a deal, “I’ll tell you; I want to- just.. Please.. Can you hold me while I do?”

At that, Jake placed himself next to you, with his back against the wall, maneuvering you to sit between his legs, curling into him with your head resting against his chest. Once you got comfortable, he wrapped both arms around you, resting one on your hip, the other moving to run his fingers through your hair.

He let you sit in silence for a minute before prodding, “So what happened doll?”

You began telling him about your day, rattling off every good thing you could remember. He listened intently, still not quite sure what had made you so upset.

When you finally took a breath, he chanced his question, “Everything you’ve told me has been great, but what caused-” You reached a hand up blindly, placing your finger over his lips, halting his words.

He huffed a laugh, hearing you lightly snap again, “I’m getting there Jake, trust me.”

You quickly launched back into your explanation. “Everything was going great, one of the best days I’ve had in quite a while, actually. Then that coworker– you know, the one that doesn't seem to like me at all? Well, we’re finishing up a meeting with some new prospective clients, and as I go to stand up, I accidentally slosh my coffee a bit, some of it landing on the sleeve of this stupid fucking shirt. And in front of these people that I've just now met for the first time, she goes, ‘Shaky hands, huh? That’s embarrassing y/n.’” You could feel tears beginning to prick your eyes. “And I know that sounds like such a stupid thing to make me so upset, but it did.”

You took in another deep breath, trying to calm the rising anger so you could finish your thought. “It just made me start to think about everything I’ve ever done, and if I really am an embarrassment to everyone. I had to rush out of the room so I didn't start crying right then and there.”

Letting the room fall silent, you looked up at Jake, finding that he was already looking down at you with fondness in his eyes. When he still didn't say anything, you reached up and poked his face, hoping to at least get some form of a response.

He smiled, leaning forward and placing a kiss on your forehead. “I love you so much. I love all of your little quirks, clumsiness, gracefulness, everything that comes along with you. And I want you to know that the last thing I ever think of you as is an embarrassment.”

You had begun to cry as you finished your story, and had to hold back your sniffles as he continued to speak.

“Your coworker is nothing but a bully who knows you're better than her. I know it's easier said than done, but I don't want you to listen to a single negative thing she ever says to you.”

Moving his hand off of your head, he wrapped both of his arms around your waist, clasping them together, pulling you even tighter. He still wasn't done though.

“I do have to say I’m glad I wasn't there, because I would have grabbed that coffee out of your hand and thrown it right in her–”

“Jake!” you laughed at him as he gave you a cheesy smile. “You can't say things like that. Be nice!”

He lovingly rolled his eyes at that, nuzzling his nose into your neck just enough to make you giggle, “Oh my sweet, sweet girl, how could anyone be mean to you?”

You shook your head, leaning back onto his chest, “Thank you.”

“For?”

“Listening. Loving me. I think I just needed this right here,” you gestured to yourself in his lap, “you’re all I needed.”

Reaching a hand up, you grabbed his jaw, tilting his head down until your noses were touching. He closed the distance for you, letting his lips slot together with yours in a tender, loving kiss.

You pulled away first, “But I also need food, may even need a bubble bath.”

“Of course,” he placed another kiss on your forehead, then your nose, “anything for my girl.”

[helluvabun]

Val's daughter Headcannons 2

Darker edition

TWs and A/N: mentions of grooming and unhealthy relationships. Mentions of eating disorders if you squint. This was written in one go at 2:30am. not proof read. I can't stop thinking about her. She has my heart. (I'll edit her name in whenever voting finishes I just couldn't wait to write another tiny something for her)

Part one

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ I don't see incest being a problem but Valerie does have an unhealthy attachment to her Valentino, including talking about XXX topics

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ She does also still do things like call him 'Daddy' and 'Papi, sitting on his lap, and kissing his cheek, but neither see them as an inappropriate gestures

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ She's only been in one serious relationship that wasn't a publicity stunt by Vox, and ruined it by being possesive (texting 500 times a minute, calling over and over) Otherwise just prefers sleeping around, so much that it's part of her branding

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ Due to the mix of her dad's power and being half succubus, she does accidentally manipulate almost everyone she finds attractive without thinking. She thinks everyone just happens to also be attracted to her

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ She works with Vox as an actress, working in horror films primarily as the bimbo sterotype. Since it's Hell horror movies are primarily... practical effects. And she's the most extreme masocist ever. This combo is the main reason she's so popular

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ She's is a nepo baby to the bone. Very nice girl but what's the big deal about having a soul contract? Didn't you choose to sign it silly? On the plus side any souls she have are very well taken care of, Mainly being used as attendants, makeup artists, and 'besties'... if they're not completely left alone to go about their life as normal

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ She definitely thinks lolita is a love story

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ Because of seeing the women Valentino works with, and due to off hand comments her father made (never about her but about his employees), she had alot of body insecurities during puberty and still now (though now she handles it a lot better)

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ Valentino doesn't mind seeing her flirt and hook up with men; They often go to the clubs together so it's impossible to avoid. He does draw a line at Vox, and doesn't have patience for men who keep pushing after hija has already said no.

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ It wasn't normal to be a child in Hell, so she was pretty lonely, which she copes with now by being the life of the party

[oddballwriter]

The EMH crew and the MH crew with a reader who is an SFX artist?? I took schooling for creating fake injuries for film! Blood effects, cuts, corpsing, bruises, burns, frostbite, guts- All that! I love to hear about gruesome details. I’d never pull a prank like pretending I was injured though, just fyi. Also a horror film junkie. ^^ Most people are surprised by all that, being a short, incredibly soft-spoken and polite lass.

꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦

Warnings: mentions of wound makeup effects and looking like you've been attacked (obviously just makeup)  

Author’s Snip: I know you said that you wanted the EMH guys too but I could only have my brain think up for Evan so I hope that's okay.

I’ll shut up now. Enjoy! And don’t be afraid to request.

꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦

Jay

He thinks it's pretty cool that you can do SFX makeup wounds

He would be interested in the whole process of making a base and doing the details of the effect

Jay would probably recommend you to some other film friends just in case they wanted someone who could do that type of makeup

I wanna say that he would let you practice so makeup effects on him so that you can get used to having putting it on a actual person

Though I feel like he'd hate the feeling of the process since usually the thing you are placing on him is wet and feels funny

Alex

He fucks with this so hard

He doesn't seem like the type of make a film or something that involves your work and skills, but similar to Jay, if he knows someone who might need that, he'd recommend you to them if they don't have much options

One of his favorite things to see is when he walks into your place and he sees you doing the effects on yourself

It's so weird, in a funny way, to just walk through the door and he just sees you sat at a desk with makeup junk scattered around and you look like a bear just went ham on you but are acting totally fine

Like "Hey, Alex." "Hi... (y/n)."

Brian

He wants you to have him be your model for when you practice a new effect or something

Please let him be your test model

He can't really sit still sometimes since some of the brushes tickle and it makes him giggle

But otherwise, he tries his hardest to be still so you can do your work

I honestly imagine you two being that one photo of the girls where one of them is doing the others makeup

You know the one

Tim

He thinks it's pretty neat and likes to watch you do the effects and all that

You do scare the shit out of him sometimes cause he'll just come to your place and you look like a walking murder victim

It's like "Hey, y/N. How's it g-HOLY FUC-oh... oh never mind. You're fine."

And then he just kinda laughs it off

He's okay with you looking like that once he knows that it's just makeup but one thing that he hates is when you're taking it off and you're like... peeling it off

Idk he thinks that's just... unsettling to watch

Evan

He also fucks with it and thinks it's rad as hell

"Ew" /pos

He loves it when you work on new effects

Honestly would love to be a test model like Brian but he's a little more squirmy

This boy can't sit still, he just can't

You have to look him in they eyes and tell him to stop moving so much

You guys are also the picture of the girls

Would honestly try to kiss you while he has the stuff on and it's still drying

[tragicomedys]

sage, camellia, chamomile & taro

sage ⇢ what ‘medium’ of art (poetry, music, fiction, paintings, statues etc.) is the most touching to you? why do you think that is?

oh this is such an interesting question... i think all mediums of art touch me in different ways, but perhaps the most effective is film/animation because they're visual, auditory, and use storytelling as well. kind of the whole bag. i love both literary and visual forms of art so the fact that film and animation mix those two is kind of perfect. i also imagine stories in my mind played out like a show, as in, i see characters and put them through a story in my mind so i think film and shit is most similar to the way i think. i think thats also why ive always been very drawn to animations specifically, i love how they combine drawing with storytelling, and i wish there was more of a variety in animation styles and stories even tho its been better than before (THANK you spiderverse). specifically i like 2d animation more than 3d, 3d usually has an uncanniness or SOMETHING that im not into (even good ones like the bad guys and big hero six and the mitchells vs the machine), the only 3d animation ive been SUPER into has been spiderverse. whereas i think sooo much 2d animation is beautiful and emotionally effective

camellia ⇢ what were you like when you were younger? do you think you’ve changed a lot?

so when i was a child i was very hostile, pissy, angry. was a very temperamental child and i used to bully my twin brother for fun. so i think i changed a lot from that. i think ive become much more inhibited especially in expressing anger. but when comparing myself to me as a younger teen, i can see many similarities; i was anxious, always felt out of control, always down to meet new people and make friends, intellectualized my problems, etc. and i think i can still do all these things. the biggest change ive gone through since then is that ive overall become more and more accepting of the situation im in, and am willing to wait to become myself, which is something i was extremely upset about kind of all the time when i was younger... ive changed and gotten smarter, but honestly not all that much

chamomile ⇢ what kind of things do you like receiving as gifts?

aw this is cute! honestly i should probably make a wishlist bc i just like it when people get me what i was thinking of getting myself one day... specific makeup, shirts, merch, etc... i also like cute little thoughtful gifts somebody would want me to have, like a unique plushie, keychain, bag, whatever it may be... if the gift is practical or i will physically use it somehow thats even better. so i also like soaps and shit like that from bath n body works or whatever. i think one of my fav things would be getting merch related stuff bc i dont have much merch at all!

taro ⇢ if someone called you right now to catch up, what’re the things you’d tell them about?

:] i would tell them about how i moved a year ago and what ive been up to with college lately probably. maybe some shit ive watched and some new interests. probably how ive been feeling lately if we wanted to get a bit deep. theres been a couple new things in my life recently so ive got a couple things to say...

[noodlesandpanic]

Some things I want to do creatively: (at least right now)

-Enroll in vocal lessons. I miss singing and loved it so so very much. More than anything.

-Get through my art block and make more art, but also make more prints/stickers/pins/lighters etc. and things to sell online and at pop up markets. Starting with the most cost effective things since I'm broke right now, and working up to things like apparel.

-Finally say fuck it and go to school for Cosmetology or at least Esthetics? My fear though is finding a way to balance school with work while keeping my mental health above water so that I can still afford rent. But also that I would finish and be in all the debt from school and having a hard time finding employment, or possibly not even liking it? The main things I have interest in learning are eyelash extensions, facials, waxing, maybe hair but it's a lot longer of a time commitment and expensive! And dealing with people's hair seems stressful, I don't know. I also have interest in semi permanent makeup application like microblading and lip blushing, etc. That's just extra high pressure because it's semi PERMANENT. But you can charge a lot for all of these things and though there's technical skill to it, you can also be very creative. If I could have a studio space that I could rent out and decorate in my unique style (make it aesthetically pleasing and do beauty services and also sell my art shit once I have more stuff made- stickers, prints, lighters, crop tops etc ughhh. I need to just make a decision for it already and stop living in fear. I've wanted to do it since I graduated high school. I could be done with it already!

-Learn how to tattoo!? First starting with stick n poke and then moving to a gun? I could get some fake skin and do it for fun at home to see if I'd want to get certified. People have asked me many times after seeing my art if I'd want to learn to tattoo and tattoo them! That thought had honestly never crossed my mind but I think it could be awesome. Especially if I came to a point where I paired it with permanent makeup?

-Learn to play electric guitar. Or bass? Though I really don't know anything about bass. I have an acoustic, but it hurtss the fingers and it's so hard to try and learn on an acoustic. Electrics are so much easier to switch between cords on, and hold the strings down. They also look a lot cooler, and sound cooler. I'd just need an amp too, but I could practice on it without one to get used to it!

Okay, that's everything for now. And it's still the beginning of February, so I'm at the start of a fresh new year to start things! I'm now going to see when the soonest programs are for Esthetics & Cosmetology. ♡ I'll update once I have updates ♡

[hinaaspanda]

caught in 4k! | p.sh

Pairing: Playboy! Park Sunghoon + Model! Fem Reader

Warnings: Swearing, use of alcohol

Genre: Fake dating, angst, fluff, crack

Word Count: 10,590

The campus player, Park Sunghoon doesn't do love. He's content with lifeless flings and his frozen, closed off heart. With his friends doubting him, he looks to you, and a halfway decent plan, to make his statement. How far can you go without getting caught?

a/n; hi! I'm back with my long promised sunghoon fic! I finally had the motivation to finish this one and I hope you enjoy it!

a/n again; I made a playlist for this fic, too! you can listen to it here

Contrary to popular belief, you never wanted to be in the spotlight. 

A glaring light always blinding your eyes as you stood before the camera. Faux wind brushes against your face, carrying your hair effortlessly. All the clothes, jewelry, and makeup looks anyone could desire. It was all given to you, handed to you on a silver platter with this life. One you never asked for in the first place.

Modelling was always part of your life, your first gig starting as early as middle school. Since then, you couldn’t go a mile without seeing your face on an ad or screen. It was strange, really. Like the world around you was your mirror. A labyrinth of reflections you couldn’t escape. 

However, with this pedestal you’ve been thrusted on, you became untouchable, fragile. No one would dare step foot in your private world. And frankly, you liked it that way. 

“That’s a wrap for today!” The coarse voice of the director rang through your ears. It had no effect on you anymore; it was the same as every day, every photoshoot. You shuffled into the back, making minimal eye contact with any staff members lingering around the photoshoot set. With all the energy escaping your body, it was a miracle how you managed to stay awake for the rest of the trip home with the demon of exhaustion beating your frame into a pulp. 

A blanket of darkness coated the sky as you hopped off the bus. You would’ve taken more time to bask in its beauty if it weren’t for your knackered form practically pleading to head straight home. Your heaving sigh turned into a yawn as a small ping! jumps from your pocket. A huff escapes your lips, fully expecting your Sunoo’s 20+ messages about his day. You didn’t have the heart to tell him you couldn’t call tonight. However, the moment you clicked your phone open, you received something much more confusing. 

Park Sunghoon [9:48 pm]: hey

Your face wrinkles in confusion, multitudes of questions racking through your brain. Mostly questions revolving around the sanity of someone who had the nerve to message you *at all* at 9 pm, let alone some stranger to your private account. Your thumb swiftly swiped the notification away; this was probably some creepy fan anyway. Your brain did the same. Or, at least it tried to. 

As you trekked home, your limbs sinking deeper and deeper into the sidewalk, your mind lingered on the name that popped up on the screen. 

Park Sunghoon.

His name had a familiar aftertaste, but one you couldn’t fully pinpoint. 

Simultaneously, you reached the front door to your apartment and all thoughts in your measly little head seemed to float away. You were finally home. 

And just like that, the mystery man on your screen had faded away. 

No one would dare step foot in your private world.

Right?

…

Sunghoon still couldn’t believe his eyes. 

“It’s official, boys,” Jay said with a disappointed huff. “We’ve lost him.”

His glum eyes turned everyone else’s to the new couple at the table. Jake Sim, the once notorious playboy of the campus, has officially been tied down. He’s a tamed beast. And the culprit? The campus new girl, Vivian. 

“Piss off!” The loverboy hisses, before turning his attention back to his beloved girlfriend. A complete 180° in energy sends the group in a fit of cackles as Jake heaves a sigh, throwing an arm over Vivian’s shoulders. “You guys just don’t get it.”

Another set of cackles sound off. 

“Dude, have you met us?” Heeseung pressed before taking a big swig of his lukewarm coffee. A swift head cock gestured to the rest of the gang, all enjoying their meals at lunch break. They were all good-looking, complete with refreshing features and complementary clothing styles. They were the pure definition of red flags, playboys in the flesh. Of course they didn’t get it when one of their own kind finally folded, grew trapped in their own feelings. 

“You guys are still cute, though!” Jay swiftly added, with zero genuinity in his tone as Jake stood up, Vivian following suit.

“Whatever,” The couple stomped away.

Sunghoon couldn’t bring himself to add anything to the daily banter. It truly stunned him how pissed Jake had gotten over a girl. This was new. He took a bite of his lunch, his brows furrowed in confusion. “What’s his deal?”

Heeseung simply shrugged. “Jake’s just down bad,”

“Maybe he really is serious about her?” Jay follows. “But I guess you’d be the last to understand.”

Sunghoon bit his lip, his teeth picking at the skin. Jay was right on the money; Park Sunghoon didn’t do love. He didn’t do serious relationships. When it came to attachment and affection, he was like poison in water; he didn’t belong. His heart was too cold to care for anyone else’s. If you came too close, you’d only freeze to your ultimate demise. Yet nobody listens. Girls fall for his charms, only to get their hearts shattered mere weeks later. Sunghoon would’ve pitied them if they weren’t so dumb to fall for him in the first place. 

With all these girls falling on their face just to be with him, Sunghoon may have gained somewhat of an ego. How couldn’t he? When he could get in a new fling faster than a strike of lightning. 

“Maybe Jake has a point,” Heeseung suddenly spat out, throwing off the others. “Maybe we just need to experience it ourselves.”

Sunghoon wanted to laugh. Pat his friend on the back for giving him a good chuckle. And yet, a quick glance at his neighbour only proved one thing. He wasn’t lying. Sunghoon leaned back on his chair, arms crossing in determination. He wasn’t going to back down just yet. 

“You guys already know I don’t do love,” He defended.

“Alright, buddy,” Heeseung scowled. “I said try, just once. Maybe falling for someone won’t be so bad.” 

Sunghoon opened his mouth, but no words began to fall once he saw Jay’s approving stare meet his eyes. It was official, he was completely alone. 3 for 1. No one to back him up. A tick of irritation swelled in his brain. Have they all gone mad? What part of ‘Playboys of The Campus’ did they not understand? 

Suddenly, a lightbulb chimes above his head. He knew exactly what would fix all of this. 

A small little lie wouldn’t hurt anyone, no? 

“Fine,” Sunghoon muttered, a sigh escaping his lips. “I’ll try.”

Sunghoon strolled to his next class. There wasn’t any point in skipping today, not with his whole friend group growing into a bunch of buzzkills at lunch. A plan already formulated in his head. Pretend to bag a girl, stay with her long enough to convince the boys, and break up when the time's right. No hard feelings, no broken hearts. It’s a foolproof plan, really. One question; who was his target? 

A pamphlet posted on the wall reaches his peripheral vision, causing Sunghoon to glance back. It was an advertisement for the school, with a girl on the front cover. But not just any girl; It was Yang y/n. The untouchable goddess of his college campus. A smirk lined his lips. Maybe he could have fun with this.

…

“Some guy DM’d your private account?” Sunoo probed through the phone. “What did they want?”

“I don’t know,” You fumbled with a pen on your desk, throwing your head back in exhaustion. Of course you couldn’t say no to a 3 hour call with your one and only long distance best friend. “All they said was ‘hey’.”

“Do you remember the name? I can look them up online,” You snicker at Sunoo’s detective habit, it came so naturally to him. You sighed. 

“Park Sunghoon,” You said, a little too confidently. Like you knew him, or something. It was strange. Where did you hear that name before?

A hush fell on the call, keeping your mind on edge. You knew it took a while for Sunoo to find someone online, but you still couldn’t stay put, curiosity plaguing your brain. You wanted to put an end to this mystery; put a face on this mystery man. More silence fills the line, worry now growing on your features. You didn’t like Sunoo’s silence. What if he found something he wasn’t supposed to see?

“Y/n…” Sunoo said, uncertainty trailing his tone. “Are you sure you don’t know him? He has your school in his bio.”

Your eyes widened. It all clicked. 

Park Sunghoon of UofE. He was smart, handsome, and belonged in the dancing department at your university. You’ve never met him yourself, but you always heard his name lingering in the halls as you’d walk to class. His name, always called out by some miscellaneous girl offering her phone number. With his overwhelming following, it made you wonder who was the real celebrity in your school. 

But if there was one thing he was known for, it was how a heart could splinter in his hands. Ending flings before starting; the definition of ‘no strings attached’. While he left girls crying everywhere, there wasn’t a scratch on his end. His heart was too numb to feel anything. He wasn’t called The Ice Prince for nothing. 

You purse your lips. That’s great and all, but what the hell did he want with you?

“Oh…” You trail off, almost forgetting Sunoo’s presence. “What do you think I should do?” 

“Try replying! It probably wouldn’t hurt, since you kinda know him now!” Sunoo sprung. As much as you loved him, he clearly couldn’t read the room. You couldn’t blame him though; living in another city and all. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Sunoo.”

“Why not?” You should try stepping out of your shell for once, you know. You’re Yang Y/n! You have nothing to be afraid of!” 

Another sigh. That’s definitely not true. 

“That’s not-”

“Oh crap, my lab’s due in like 2 hours, and I havent started! I’ll call you later y/n!” Sunoo suddenly panted, panic flooding his lungs. So much for that 3 hour call. “and remember what I said!”

He didn’t give you the luxury to say ‘bye” before hanging up. You glanced at the clock. 11:37. Maybe a nice, warm shower could let you relax. You haul your fatigued figure to your closet to retrieve your towel as a soft knock jumps from your door. 

“You shouldn’t talk to that Sunghoon guy, y/n.”

You spin around. It was your little brother, Jungwon. You sent him a confused stare, and he continued. “Sorry, I couldn’t help but listen in. I think you should avoid him.”

You turn away. “How do you even know who Sunghoon is?”

Jungwon shuffles into your room, a genuinely worried look plastered on his face. “My friend Riki, his sister was that guy’s latest fling. They barely lasted a month, but she thought they were serious. Clearly, he didn’t feel the same. Apparently, she couldn’t stop crying for weeks.”

You hum a dead-end response. You knew Jungwon was only confirming your suspicions, but it was still shocking to hear. Your brother glances up, his eyes meeting yours. 

“I don’t know much about dating, but I can tell this guy’s bad news. He sounds like a monster from what Riki’s told me,” Jungwon concluded. “I don’t want you getting hurt from him either.”

You stayed stunned at your brother’s sudden affection. You never knew a highschool aged boy was capable of feeling such emotions. As Jungwon retired back to his own room, you glanced back at your phone. The phone with a stray notification dangling by a thread. Waiting for your command. 

For once, you couldn’t have agreed with your brother more. 

…

“Ladies and gentlemen, the day has finally come!” Heeseung announces, rolling his homework into a makeshift cone and placing it before his mouth. It sent everyone else at the table into a fit of laughter, but pushed Sunghoon further into his sour mood. “Park Sunghoon just got his first rejection!!”

Jay followed Heeseung’s lead, taking a nasty spoon and thrusting it before Sunghoon’s face. “What would you like to say for yourself?” 

Sunghoon only grumbled, hiding his face in the nest of his forearms. He didn’t want the world to see the tomato his skin had turned into. Embarrassment shot through his spine, a fire sparking in his chest. He didn’t deserve to be humbled so brutally like that. How did he know you were going to block him, not even sparing him a reply to his text. 

“You should’ve seen it coming, man.” Jake rubbed salt into the wound, Sunghoon visibly wincing. He watched as the loverboy hugged his girlfriend’s side and scowled. “You decided to go for y/n of all people. She’s like, the only girl on campus who doesn’t care about you.” 

Sunghoon stayed silent. 

“It’s not like she would,” Jake continued. “She’s a goddamn model, Hoon. A celebrity. She probably couldn’t care less about this whole school, let alone you.” Jake's words earned a slap from Vivian, and Sunghoon watched as the two bickered. 

Sure, he understood your place in the school’s hierarchy. You were the only one to surpass his status. Deemed untouchable to the common eye. But he had other plans. Park Sunghoon was not letting go without a fight. 

On que, steps clicked on the cafeteria floor, and the room grew into a hush. Everyone watched as your figure waltzed in, taking your seat at the corner of the room. It didn’t matter where you sat, a spotlight still draped over your figure, cascading gently off of your frame. You were always at the centre of attention. 

With that fire still inside him, Sunghoon shoots up, chairs and utensils shuddering at his actions, but he was too busy staring at you to notice. He adjusted himself; brushing his hair out of his face and tugging on his jacket before making his way to your beloved corner. 

“Where are you going?” Heeseung asked

“I’m not giving up.” 

Sunghoon watched as you munched away in peace. Effortlessly ignoring the gawkers and onlookers that were the other students in the school. Paying them no mind; giving them no satisfaction. Sunghoon scoffed under his breath.

It only made him hungry for more.

…

All you wanted was some peace and quiet.

Instead, you’ve got the Ice Prince pestering you at the comfort of your lunch table, not even letting you take a bite from your sandwich. His eyes never let go of your figure. They burned through yours, even if you weren’t looking directly back at him. A part of you wanted to look up, curious of what he had to say. What he had to offer in turn for tampering with your tranquil lunch break, but you stopped yourself. Reminding yourself of the monster that sits right before you. 

You don’t want to get wrapped up in the mess of Park Sunghoon. 

So why were you still here, listening to his delirious plan?

“We won’t have to go on too many dates, just enough to make it believable. We can keep our personal lives separate, and with no strings attached.”

There it was, Park Sunghoon’s infamous catchphrase. Something about him really seemed to tick you off. Your eyes finally glance up at him, and his face lights up. You let out a huff, but he doesn’t catch it. Typical. 

“What do you say?” Sunghoon’s arrogant demeanour made your face wrinkle in irritation.  “Are you in?”

Were you in? In on this idiotic scheme of a realtionship fabricated for the media? An act of desperation to serve his personal gain? You lean back, arms crossing before your chest. You didn’t know if it was to show power or to hide yourself away. He’s gotta be kidding, right?

“What’s in it for me?” You ask, instantly regretting it. 

Sunghoon glanced around, visible worry crowning his face. You wanted to roll your eyes. Of course he never thought about that. The wants and needs of other people never dawned on him. He really was cold hearted. You stopped yourself, your face growing numb and featureless, just like the heart trapped within his chest. 

“Well, you could boost your popularity!” Sunghoon scoured for answers, the current supply running dry. “A model’s gotta have a decent following!” His eyes stayed on yours, pride swelling in his cheeks. He thought he got this in the bag, when it was very much not. In fact, it was spilt over, scattered on the floor.  

You couldn’t take this anymore. With a little more force that you would have wanted, you spring up. A groan escapes your lips as you walk away. You tried your best not to listen to Sunghoon’s voice echoing in the dining hall, reaching out to you. You barely knew him, and he knew nothing about you, so why would  you bother listening to his words? You pushed through the nearest exit, eyes following your every move. Maybe then he’d leave you alone. 

Of course you were wrong. 

“Wait!” He caught up. You spun around to face him.

“I don’t want a decent following,” You spat, throwing Sunghoon off guard. “If anything, I want people to leave me alone.”

Sunghoon paused. He clearly wasn’t expecting this. That’s what he gets for choosing you for his stupid ruse. He cleared his throat, switching on his charm. As if he wasn’t annoying enough. 

“Well, when you’re with me, no one’s gonna wanna touch you. You can get all the peace you want.” You blushed against your will, his smooth words irritating you more. Your silence spoke volumes, and Sunghoon sighed. Since when did he get so desperate? “Just one date, and I’ll leave you alone.”

Just then, the Sunoo’s voice jumps in your head. 

You should try stepping out of your shell for once, you know.

A groan jumps from your throat. You hated how easily you were persuaded. “Just one date. Got it?”

…

The sound of a camera flash jolted you awake. 

Your eyes rummaged through the boujee café, trying to find the culprit behind your stolen photo. But soon enough he revealed himself, grinning at his phone like an idiot. You rolled your eyes at the Ice Prince, something you found yourself doing a lot lately. 

“What was that?”

“A picture. To show that I’m being serious. It’ll make this whole thing more believable.” Sunghoon remarked. 

You glanced at the photo: you were in the centre, staring out the café window with a cup of warm coffee snug in your hands. It was pretty, but something felt off. Your face didn’t take up a square inch of the image. 

“I never take pics with casual flings, so they’ll know something’s up.”

“Shouldn’t you actually take a picture of my face? I feel like that would be more believable.” You asked.

“Nah, it’s like a little tease. It’s more fun this way!”

Despite his playful manner, a sinking feeling weighed down your chest. Right. All of this was fake. All some scheme to get his friends to lay off of him; to prove to his friends why him and the concept of love didn’t mix well. You were just the host for his little experiment. All because you didn’t have the backbone to say no. You knew all that, so why did you feel so weird?

You were only a third of the way through the date, but Park Sunghoon was already driving you mad. 

Sunghoon watched as you grew silent. As heartless as he was, he knew he shouldn’t make a girl feel uncomfortable, especially on the first date. Swiftly, he took out his phone again, opening the camera app before aiming at your figure. “Smile!”

You stayed stunned, not listening to his command. Sunghoon frowned, cocking an eyebrow. “C’mon, you’re a model, aren’t you?”

You gave in, strutting your shoulder in an elegant pose. Your smile, glimmering under the café lights. A pose fabricated in mere seconds, a pose worthy of the front page; the headliner. It was your gift, after all. It was something you could take pride in. 

It was strange how different Sunghoon seemed today. Gone was the stone-cold playboy that roamed the campus halls, skipping class and chatting with friends at lunch. Though he still looked the same, dawning his refined black blazer and jeans, classy and elegant. It fit his handsome frame, his beguiling proportions. You couldn’t decide if it made him less or more toxic. Either way, he seemed much more innocent to the common eye. It was probably how so many girls fell for him in the first place.

“It must be nice, right?” Sunghoon swiftly turned the subject to you. “Living the life of a celebrity.”

A huff subconsciously escapes your lips. “Yeah, it’s real nice”

He cocked an eyebrow. “What do you mean? You have everything you could ever want, right?” 

Sunghoon caught you tongue-tied. “I didn’t really ask to be a model. I was sort of forced into it. My parents got me my first gig at middle school, and it paid well so we didn’t stop. No one in my family really asked for my opinion, so I just grew up quiet. I never had a voice.”

You let out another sigh. “So no, I don’t have everything I want. Quite the opposite, actually.”

A blanket of silence fell on top of you. You winced, knowing full well how much you messed up just now. Why’d you have to tell him that? Were you insane? The two of you sat in that same suffocating, dead air. Your head spinning in embarrassment at the fact that Park Sunghoon knew your one and only true insecurity. You wouldn’t blame him if he got up and left. You would too if your first date dumped all their trauma on you. 

While Sunghoon did finally stand up from his seat, he didn’t leave. Instead, he shoved his phone in his pocket, and shot a smile in your direction. “Come on, you can choose where to go next!”

You couldn’t help but snort at Sunghoon’s desperate frame, pleading for the claw machine’s mercy. Just an ounce of victory to feed his poor, bruised ego. This was his 6th try at the machine already, and his supply of coins was already running low. 

“God, just give it to me!” Sunghoon hailed, losing all of his cool in mere seconds. The curious stares and glances from strangers grazed your frame, and you instinctively hid behind your jacket collar. But they continued to stare at Sunghoon’s loud presence, not paying attention to you. It was strange. Sunghoon punched at the buttons, his hand gripping at the joystick in fury. 

Miraculously, the claw wrapped its metallic hands around a push toy; a penguin. With all his might, Sunghoon carefully dragged the toy to the exit, the light in the darkness. He screamed for joy, alarming both you and the wanderers around. Hastily, Sunghoon pulled the penguin from the tiny door, admiring his hard work before whipping out his phone. 

A flash sparks from the camera, and he invites you to take a look. In the centre was the pink penguin plush, cradled in his hands as your purse peeks through the background. A little hint, a nimble clue as to where the Ice Prince really was. It was clever. Perfect for this little ruse. You wholeheartedly expected him to toss the stuffie away; it had no use once the photo was taken. Which is why his next move left you completely stunned. 

Sunghoon pushed the plush towards you, inviting your hands with his gaze. Out of instinct, you reached for it, but a cog in your brain stopped you. 

“What’s this for?”

“It’s a gift, duh”

“You’re just gonna give me something?”

“I won it for you, didn’t I?”

Sunghoon walked away, finding another game in the arcade he could splurge his money on. Well, you weren’t fully sure this was the Ice Prince anymore; he’d become completely unrecognisable to you. How were you supposed to believe the notorious heartbreaker on campus just gave you a gift?

You clutched the plush in your hands. Who were you kidding, you shouldn’t believe it in the first place. This was probably his tactic; playing innocent to capture the heart of his prey, take just what he needs, and leave the rest to fend for themselves. You placed the stuffie on the edge of the machine. You weren’t going to succumb to Park Sunghoon’s toxic plans. 

This was all fake anyways. 

The trudge home was practically pitch black, the minute streetlamp being the only source of light as the two of you walked home. You stayed silent, scratching your head at the mere fact that Sunghoon agreed to walk you home. At 10:30 in the evening, no less. Sunghoon cleared his throat, hopefully clearing up the tension you so carefully built between your figures. 

“Today was fun,” He said haphazardly

You didn’t reply. You knew what that stood for; he had enough pictures for today’s date. He didn’t need you for a while.

“Should we go out again?” He suggested contradictingly, throwing you off once again. You stop in your tracks. 

“You wanna go out again?”

“Yeah, why not?”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “I never took you as the ‘second date’ type. ”

Sunghoon grew quiet, pupils running wild as he looked around for a response. “Well, what did you take me as?”

You scoffed. “The ‘brutally break her heart after the first’ type.”

“Okay yeah, fair.”

Laughs emitted from your chests as you approached your apartment. You clear your chest, resetting your mind. Your mind which had been going crazy because of one confusing Ice Prince. The sound of Sunghoon’s voice rings in your ears once again, and you turn around. “You never answered my question.”

You huffed. 

“Fine.”

You’ve lost it.

…

From that date on, your daily life began to change. 

Sunghoon pestered you constantly, taking you on dates with his trusty camera at his side; diligent in documenting every moment you had together. It was going a little overboard, even if it was just to fool his friends. 

Still, you found yourself following his lead everytime. Slowly, you were enjoying yourself with every new date. Trips to the ice rink, where he’d laugh in your face for falling on your face, before switching on his gentleman act and helping you up. Dates to cafés and restaurants, where he’d practically flaunt your romantic status to complete strangers. Stranger that you knew recognized you, and could start a riot in any waking second. 

But for some strange reason, you didn’t seem to mind. For some reason, You felt safe with the Ice Prince. 

You’ve decided to trust the heart-throb, against maybe everyone else’s better judgement. And so far, he hasn’t left your heart a bruised, shattered mess. Though that was only because he didn’t try and reach for your heart in the first place. And neither should you. This was all fake, afterall. 

You decided to trust the heartthrob, even in his decision to post all of your photos online, for the public eye to see, piece apart. 

Maybe you shouldn’t have. 

Currently, you sat in the pale meeting room, your figure facing your distressed manager, and a few other staff members by her side. In front were a series of photos; photos of you and a mysterious male figure, and all taken from Park Sunghoon’s phone. There were a few extra photos scattered on the surface, images of the two of you, presumably taken by paparazzi of some kind. And while the quality was quite blurry, the situation was clear as day; you’ve been caught. 

“Don’t you see the situation we’re in?” Your manager rightfully huffed. She swiped a hand through her hair. “You should’ve been more careful, y/n. Being seen out like that could cause a scandal! Who knows how the public is going to react?”

You stayed silent. You knew better than to talk while getting scolded. Your manager jabbed at the middle picture; the picture of the two of you. “And now that the press found out, there’s no telling what they’d say! This could taint our image, y/n!”

A fire burned in your chest. The moment you actually enjoyed shining under the spotlight, you would get punished for it. Of course.

“I need you to lay low for a while, to calm down the waters. We’ll release an official statement after then, in about a week.”

A week ago, you would’ve been elated at the news of laying low. But now, It didn’t sit right. Still, you sat hunched over, not being able to make eye contact with the staff before you, your manager especially. 

Curse you and your weak backbone. 

“Yes,” You muttered, hissing your words. 

As you scuffed through the agency building’s doors, a tiny ping! jumps from your phone. You sighed. A part of you wished you couldn’t predict who it was. A part of you wished he was still a mystery man. 

Park Sunghoon [4:27 pm]: wanna hang out?

…

Y/N [2 weeks ago]: I don’t feel like it today

That was the last time you’ve replied to his texts. It drove him insane; constantly checking his phone, opening and closing the keyboard thinking of things to say to you, before ultimately beating himself up for double texting. It would’ve bruised his already injured ego. 

Park Sunghoon was convinced he was sick. 

Ever since he dared himself to test the waters and send his first text, his heart always flared up at the thought of you. His mind was plagued with you. Strategies to make you say yes, ways to win you over. He always thought it was solely for his scheme. To prove his friends wrong, to prove once and for all that Park Sunghoon was too cold for love. Or maybe it was his pride; with his unmatched looks, he was certain he could score a shot with the school’s untouchable princess. 

But now, he wasn’t so sure. 

Sunghoon found himself thinking about you daily. The ruse, his friends, it all seemed to fade away, leaving you in his wake. He always wondered how you were, how your day went. He’d make the distant trip to your photography studio just to spend his afternoon with you. He’d grown attached, desperate. Words no one would think to associate the Ice Prince with. Maybe it was because you didn’t want him, or that he could hide his heart under this fake plan. He didn’t know what pulled him to you. But one thing was certain; you were the first to melt his icy heart. 

Sunghoon swiped through his camera roll, slumped on the half-beaten couch. He didn’t want to be there in the first place; he was forced into the Jay Park-Lee heeseung headquarters by his friends, who were in dire need to talk about recent events. 

“It’s been 2 weeks and you’re still waiting for a reply?” Heeseung paced, pursing his lips in shock. “What’s gotten into you, man?”

Sunghoon huffed. Like he had any clue. 

Jay snickers at his lovesick friend, sending him sharp slaps on the back. Of course he thought this was a joke.  Everything was a joke to them. “the Ice Prince’s melted into a goddamn puddle!” 

“I didn’t know you had it in you, Hoon!” Jake gasps mockingly, making Sunghoon’s eyes roll to the top of his head. “I’m surprised you even had a heart for y/n to break!”

“You guys are such assholes, you know”

Jay scoffed. “What's your problem?”

Sunghoon clicked his tongue. It was crystal clear how big of assholes his friends were. Not sparing an ounce of their attention to his actual feelings. His eyes lingered at Jake for a while, a string of guilt lining his chest. Who was he kidding, he wasn’t any better. He was the worst of them. 

Sunghoon glanced down at his phone screen, his camera roll opened to a photo of you. A wide, embarrassed smile plastered on your face as you finally accepted the stuffie he won for you with his blood, sweat, and tears. Sunghoon wasn’t sure why you slowly disappeared from his life, but he knew one thing; he was definitely the one at fault.

He liked you. That was the problem. 

Sunghoon liked you, but you were the untouchable princess, and he was the Ice Prince who shattered your perfect world. 

His inner thoughts weren’t enough to fully drown out the irking snickers from his friends. With one final huff, Sunghoon shot up from the couch, and headed for the door. His friends all groan in response, calling out for him as he reached the exit. Sunghoon couldn’t care less. 

He needed to see you.

…

“So, word’s kinda gotten out by now,” Your hairdresser shouted through the screams of the hair dryer. You wanted to roll your eyes, why couldn’t she just wait until she turned off the dryer? Embarrassing, really. But you couldn’t move a muscle, not with the eyes of your company scanning your every move. Your stylist finally switched the device off, turning her full attention to you. “What’s happening with your new boyfriend? I wanna know!” 

You tapped the arm of the chair. This lady really knew how to piss you off. 

Her words relapsed in your brain, particularly that last part. You would never consider Park Sunghoon as your boyfriend; never in a million years. He physically couldn’t be stifled to such mundane boundaries. Park Sunghoon didn’t know what a relationship was. And you weren’t going to be the one to teach him. That was the reality, but for some reason, you seemed unsettled about it. 

When Sunghoon stopped constantly bugging you, buzzing up your phone like lightning bolts to a lonesome tree, you felt a sudden emptiness. You realised how dull your life was without the Ice Prince. Maybe that was his magic, the magnet that drew his fandom closer to him after every heartbreak. He never failed to make your life a living rollercoaster. 

Your mind reeled back to your dates. He truly was as unpredictable as they come, treating you like royalty, throwing his ice cold persona out the nearest cafe or arcade window. Whenever he was with you, he wasn’t the Ice Prince anymore; he was Park Sunghoon, your resident fake boyfriend.

You wished the press knew it was all fake, too. Then maybe you could’ve turned to something more.

Your eyes widen, shaking your head at your intrusive thoughts. Were you going crazy? You knew this, the whole world knew. 

Park Sunghoon didn’t do relationships.

You think back to his cheeky smile. A smile that you probably wouldn’t have been able to see if it weren’t for this intricate scheme. 

So why was he constantly shaking you up?

The blast of the hair dryer shocked you awake. It was for your own good, you needed something to pull you down from that psychotic dream. Your cheeks, however, flare up in embarrassment, coming to the realisation that you just didn’t answer your stylist for 2 whole minutes of silence. Great. You huff.

“He’s not my boyfriend. There's nothing going on.”

And with that, your stylist went quiet. At least she knew when not to pry. You could give her that. You sigh. Your response was probably spot on in the eyes of your manager. You couldn’t have said anything better.

But did you even like your response?

…

“Is that the pizza?” Sunghoon heard a voice perk through the door frame, but he was too distracted by the disapproving stare of your younger brother, standing at the door. Yang Jungwon leaned on the door frame, practically scowling at Sunghoon. But his words weren’t directed to him. He didn't deserve the highschooler's attention. “Nah, it’s no one important, Riki.”

"Is y/n here?" Sunghoon was straight to the point. His reputation didn't matter right now. Though, considering his unimpressed expression, Jungwon could beg to differ. 

"No, she's at work right now. What do you want?" Jungwon hissed. Harsh. 

"I wanna talk to her."

"Do you really think I’m gonna let you see her after you almost ruined her life?" 

Sunghoon froze. Sure, he's heard things about ruining a girl's life before; an inevitable byproduct of dating with a numb heart. But this time around? Something seemed off. This time, he could actually feel cracks splitting his icy heart. He had a feeling he was at fault, but the proof of his actions hurt his heart more than a bullet to the chest. Sunghoon couldn't respond.

Jungwon, perplexed, stared at the Ice Prince, who seemed to embody the likes of a lost kitten.

"Do you seriously not know?"

Sunghoon, again, couldn't bring himself to respond. Reluctantly, Jungwon gestures for Sunghoon to come in. Sunghoon follows, watching the highschooler practically slam the door behind them. Jungwon cocked his head to the kitchen. 

"I'll fill you in, I guess." Jungwon muttered. 

Sunghoon sank into a stool at the kitchen island of the Yang residence. Jungwon sat beside him, a glum expression lining his face as his friend, which Sunghoon could only vaguely recognize, wisped into the pantry to grab a snack. A weight in Sunghoon’s chest dropped, as if he was centimetres away from falling off a cliff. Seconds away from receiving the most earth-shattering news. 

“Y/n’s kinda under a tight spot right now,” Jungwon began. Sunghoon watched as your little brother rolled his hand into a tight fist, resisting every urge to punch the Ice Prince, shatter him to pieces. “Her agency’s keeping a close eye on her ever since your little prank started that big scandal.”

“Big scandal?” Sunghoon cocked his head. 

“Do you live under a rock or something?” Jungwon spat. “Your pictures together got leaked, and the press even took a few of you together, themselves.”

“Leaked? But I’m private.”

“And my sister’s a celebrity. Anything can happen when you’re not careful.”

Sunghoon kept his lips shut. Clearly, though, Jungwon wasn’t finished. 

“Look, I know you couldn’t give two flying fucks about the people around you, but leave my sister out of your little games. It’s bad enough that you coerced her into that stupid first date, against my better judgement, too. But your careless actions could’ve caused y/n her career. So next time, think about the people you decide to mess with.”

Jungwon shot up, slowly pivoting towards the living room before coming to one final stop. 

“I guess that would be hard, since you clearly don’t know how to think about anyone else.”

Sunghoon huffed, a flame riling up in his chest. A bomb ticked inside of him. He knew all about his reputation; it’s been drilled into his head for what felt like decades. But for you, it was different. You showed him how to open up his heart, just a little bit. For once, he felt the urge to prove everyone wrong, to show everyone he did have a heart, and one that wasn’t encrusted with frost. 

"I know all about my shitty reputation, alright? I just wanted to see if she was okay."

Jungwon stopped in his tracks. 

"And for the record," Sunghoon continued. "I do care about her. A lot. People can change, you know."

"If you really cared about her, you'd apologise, and get the hell out of here" Jungwon huffed a final response, his fire filled eyes swiftly turning to the front door; Sunghoons que to leave. He practically stomped out the apartment, the floor below his feet quivering in response. 

Guilt tormented the once icy heart of Park Sunghoon. His footsteps hulled out the apartment. He shut the door himself as Jungwon retired to the safe haven of his friends, snacks, and video games. Sunghoon knew how important your privacy was to you. He had the luxury to take a glimpse in your world, he was someone you could finally trust. And yet, Sunghoon ruined it all.

Out of habit, Sunghoon swiped at his screen, revealing the picture of you at the cafe, during your first date. It was the day that started it all, the first sliver of light into a world where love was actually attainable. Maybe that's why it was Sunghoon’s favourite. Sunghoon pursed his lips, his thumb wavering a bit before tapping the trash bin in the corner. Your harsh little brother was right; he shouldn’t be in your life. 

His mind wandered to your barren text chat, his unopened text reaching its 3 week anniversary in just a few days. It was clear how much you didn’t want him, anyways.

…

“You realise how reckless this is, right?” You nagged as you feathered blush onto your cheeks . On the other end, the preppy voice of Kim Sunoo is trying to convince you to go with another bad idea.  “My manager’s gonna go feral once they find out I went to Yeonjun’s party while trying to lay low.”

“Oh, quit fussing about your manager!” Sunoo jeered. “It’s just some college frat party, those things happen, like, 3 times a week minimum. Not to mention you are still a college student, it’s not like it’s illegal for you to be there.”

You grew quiet at Sunoo’s words. Partly because you were focused on not fucking up your eyeliner, and partly because you were wrapping your head around his points. In the end, Sunoo was right. It wasn't necessarily a crime for you to attend. 

“Aren’t you mad at your manager too?” Sunoo continued. “There's literally no reason not for you to go. So, what's stopping you?”

It was cruel of your brain to immediately flash his face into the confines of your mind. Truth is, you were also worried about the presence of Park Sunghoon. It was a college party; his natural habitat. If you attended, you were bound to come in contact with the Ice Prince you’ve been strategically avoiding for about a month now. And out of all things you wanted, that came dead last. 

You weren’t ready to come in contact with the campus playboy. There was just too much at stake. Your image, your reputation could shatter like glass if you were once again seen with the “mystery arcade boy” the public so endearingly coined. All your precious work of laying low, staying away from trouble. It could all go away in one night. 

But it wasn’t just your reputation Sunghoon could tarnish. The Ice Prince had the capacity to make your heart run wild. 

 Despite your efforts, Sunghoon had staked his claim on you. Marked his territory in the corner of your brain. During lessons at school, on the set of photoshoots, your focus always wandered to him. It had become somewhat of a habit, ever since he first asked, begged you on that first fake date. 

Something in you always twinged in your chest every time you thought about the integrity of your relationship. At first you thought it was confusion, with the whole situation sending your head into spirals to this day. The sudden switch up of Sunghoon’s personality made you scratch your head just thinking about it. You thought it was simply that. 

But one late night call with Kim Sunoo made you challenge that notion entirely.

“Shouldn’t you be happy he’s out of your life?” Sunoo asked. You huffed. That was the reason you went to him in the first place. You didn’t know. You murmured a response. “He forced you to go out with him, did he not? Just don’t think about him anymore.”

“I don’t think I can, Sunoo.”

Silence.

“Sure, Sunghoon’s bad news all around, but for the brief time I was with him, he made me realise that there's more to life than hiding behind closed doors. He brought me out of my comfort zone, and I didn’t totally hate it. He taught me to have fun, and to live my life past my work.”

You paused, your cheeks flaring up. “Sunghoon was able to make me smile more than I have in a while.”

“Gosh, y/n.” Sunoo finally uttered, your confession leaving him stunned. And to be honest, it left you a little stunned, too. “Well, if everything you said is true, then… maybe it’s all a sign.”

“A sign?”

“That you like him more than you think.”

Your blush deepend. You stayed silent for the rest of the call. You wouldn’t allow yourself to utter another word, on the off chance that you would say anything as embarrassing as that. 

“Oh! I gotta go. Let’s talk later, kay?” Sunoo’s cheerful voice jumped through the phone. You shook awake, mere millimetres from messing up your eye makeup. You hum a goodbye before ending the call, another virus currently infecting your mind. You shook your head, heaving a breath. 

This couldn’t go on. Park Sunghoon was a monster. 

You had to lose feelings, and fast.

…

Lee Heeseung made an enemy that night. 

It’s what he deserved for having the audacity to invite Sunghoon to a party that you just so happened to be at. 

Sunghoon almost spat the bronze liquor back into the red solo cup, his eyes immediately mapping your figure as you entered the front door. He stood still, shocked to his core as he watched you greet the house owner, Yeonjun, as well as a few others. It was as if you fit in perfectly. Sunghoon could only scoff. 

He watched as you giggled at Yeonjun, a burning sensation fizzling in the pit of his stomach. He hoped it was just from the booze, but he knew that was a lie.

Since when were you close to Choi Yeonjun, anyways?

Sunghoon huffed, stomping away from the living room. He wandered, not really knowing where to head next. He just needed to get away from you. 

Yet, even in this sea of drunken 20 year olds, you were almost impossible to lose. 

This was too difficult for your liking. 

You stood amidst the crowd of seemingly unhinged college students, watching them send alcohol down their throats faster than the tempo of rave music. You felt the urge to hide behind the towering figure of Choi Yeonjun, one of your only acquaintances in your department, and the only familiar face at this forsaken party. After all, it was his party, and he invited you, couldn’t he do you one small favour?

You didn’t really know what pulled you to accept his invitation in the first place. Parties were never really your cup of tea. Not to mention, you knew no one within your current line of sight, not a single familiar face. You take a swift swig of your drink, the cold alcohol burning your throat. Maybe it was your desperate need for a distraction. Just one night to get away from the thought of him, just one night where you could be free.

You glance up from your drink.

And there he was.

Park Sunghoon, in the flesh.

Fuck. 

Your head frantically whips around, trying to find refuge in the classmate that invited you to this purgatory hall in the first place. Yeonjun, however, was off flirting with his 4th girl of the night. Typical. 

You took another swig. For some reason, the booze went down your throat easily this time. 

“Easy there, buddy. How many drinks is that?” Heeseung ogled, wrapping his arm around Sunghoon’s shoulders, in standard Heeseung fashion. But this time it was for good reason; without his friend’s support, Sunghoon was moments away from toppling over. The booze had finally fried his system, yet he couldn’t find the will to stop. 

Sunghoon’s mind grew hazy. The world around him was spinning, the bright neon lights and booming music weren’t helping his odds, either. Everything grew into a blur. And yet, the thought of you managed to power through his mind. You stood amidst the blur in his brain. Turns out, the alcohol couldn’t do anything in the long run. Anything except throw all rational thought out the window. 

“Wheres y/n?” Sunghoon posed, his words slurring into a groan. Heeseung watches helplessly as his absolutely destroyed friend slips off the couch, barely missing his lips as he takes another sip. Heeseung panics, pulling the drink away from him as he scours around for help. “What for?”

“I need her.”

You didn’t know what you were still doing there. It was pure torture, yet here you were, sitting on a lonesome barstool, downing ice cold water to sober up. 

You tried telling yourself it was for Jungwon, and that coming home drunk would be a bad example from his older sister. And while the water did help with getting all that liquor out of your system, you knew you were just once again lying to yourself. 

In truth, you knew exactly who was sitting in the living room kitchen, completely wasted. And you didn’t have the guts to face him, even if the exit to Yeonjun’s house was just on the other end. So you stayed in the safe confines of the house kitchen, and watched as various guests leave. Now, there were only a handful of guests left, all in different states of consciousness. You almost felt sorry for them, but you mostly felt proud of your high alcohol tolerance. 

“Yang Y/n?” You hear a voice perk up behind you, your jolt tossing the ice cubes around in your drink. You spin around, a not so familiar face taking up your view. 

“I don’t know if you know me, but I’m Heeseung. Friend of Sunghoon’s.”

That name. You held your breath. You didn’t know how to exactly respond, opting for an awkward murmur instead. His friend continued. “I’m sorry to do this so late, but, I need your help.” 

“My help?”

…

Heeseung led you to the scene of the crime. Sunghoon was indeed sprawled on the living room couch. Cups, that were no doubt his, outlined his sad looking body. His cheek glowed a bright red, fried with alcohol and the sweat of the night. Park Sunghoon was definitely not at his prime. 

“He’s been calling out to you all night. Low-key scaring away the guests. That’s probably why they left,”

“Why me?” You asked, truly denying the real reason. 

“Why do you think?” Heeseung replied, not being as ignorant as you deemed him to be. You heave a sigh deep from your chest. Your breath hitched as you tried to reason with him, your eyes staying on the cuff of your sleeve while fiddled with it. 

“Look, Sunghoon and I shouldn’t be together, things are just too risky and-”

“Just give him a chance. I’ve known him for all my life, and I’ve never seen him this bad. You must mean a lot to him.” Heeseung interrupted. 

Like a diver moments before splashing into the water, you take a deep breath before sinking into a spot on the couch beside Sunghoon. You tried your best not to take in the scent of alcohol through your nostrils, but his stench got the better of you. You winced, still managing to move closer to his body as you lightly tapped his cheek with the small of your palm. 

“Sunghoon?”

“Y/n?” He asked, his voice garbled in an intoxicated mess. You couldn’t help but grin. He kinda looked cute, completely wasted. 

“Yeah, it’s me-”

“Y/N!” The blitzed boy suddenly jumped (a poor excuse of one, anyway), and threw his arms around you. Your nostrils further took in the stench of alcohol, a stench that would take multiple showers for you to remove. You felt limp in his embrace, trapped by his arms as transfers all his weight onto your figure. In between groans and other inaudible noises, you manage to hear one name, constantly. “Y/n, y/n y/n~~. I’ve missed you so much, y’know? It sucks ass that we can’t hang out anymore.”

You purse your lips, ultimately glad that your flushed expression was concealed by his embrace. 

“I wanna hang out with you more, you’re different from all the annoying girls at our school. You’re so much cooler, and I’m really sorry that I fucked everything up with the pictures. It’s all my fault.”

The pace of your heart quickens as Sunghoon suddenly digs his drunken head down the crook of your neck. He murmurs something about you smelling nice and you blush, grateful for the last minute decision of perfume. You couldn’t move, in part because you physically could not move under his weight, and in part because you were too stunned to move a muscle. Nevertheless, there was a small sliver in you that wanted nothing more but to stay still. Right in his arms, as inebriated as they were. 

“I’m so, so sorry, y/n. Please forgive me.”

“I do,” You thought, but you never dared to utter out loud.

“I like you, y/n. Please don’t leave me.”

Your eyes grow wide. The booming music was drowned out by your abundance of thoughts. You think back to that fateful call with Kim Sunoo, the call that helped you decipher your own twisted maze of a heart. For once in your life, you have never felt so sure of something. You grip the hem of your shirt, endless emotions riling through your fingers. 

“I like you, too.” You thought. 

Yet you could never say it out loud.

…

Currently, a very sober Sunghoon paced around his apartment floor, Heeseung and Jay desperately trying to calm him down. However, as demonstrated by Sunghoon’s agitated glare, and his urge to rip his luscious locks off his head, he was far from calm. 

“You’re saying I fucking did what?”

Heeseung winced, waving his hands in a desperate, but futile, measure to get Sunghoon to relax. “Well, before helping me get you in the taxi last night… you might have thrown your arms around her and told her how you felt…about everything.”

“And you just let me go on like that because?”

“Cause this is getting ridiculous.”

 The voice of Jake prompts the other two frenzied university students to spin around. Sunghoon furrows his brows, enabling Jake to continue. 

“It’s not like your feelings were hidden, anyways. Anyone could tell how smitten you were for y/n the day you chased her down the cafeteria, trying to get her to go on that fake date with you. You didn’t fool anyone with that fake plan, by the way, we all saw through you.”

“I-” Sunghoon stays stunned. 

“The only thing now is for you to man up and tell her how you truly feel. Sober, this time. You owe it to her, if you’re really serious about this”

“And if she was able to stick around you this long, surely there's something mutual. Maybe you don’t have to worry about a broken heart anymore.” Jay suddenly adds. Sunghoon slows down his footsteps, his eyes staring blankly out the apartment window. He nibbles at his lips, pondering at a question that he knew deep down was already answered. 

Jake was right. Sunghoon needed to talk to you. 

“Wait!” Heeseung shot up from his spot on the couch, a lightbulb sparking atop his head. “Jake, cancel that date with Vivian, I have a plan.”

“Heeseung? What are you doing here?” You asked, propping yourself on your door frame as the Heeseung guy from the party, as well as one other guy, stood in front of your apartment doorway.

“We need you to come with us”

You cross your arms. Maybe to protect yourself, you couldn't really tell. “Why?”

“We just-” The other boyーJake, was it?ー stuttered. “It’s a secret?”

You scoffed. “I’m not coming with you, I hardly know you.”

“But you know Sunghoon.” Heesung sputtered.

You cocked an eyebrow. That goddamn name again. “What does this have to do with him?”

“You know what he's like usually. Cold and heartless. Plays with anyone's heart, any chance he gets. And you know how, ever since you entered his life, he's changed. It’s like he's actually grown a heart, actually developed feelings.

“It may just be because we’re his friends, and we want the best for him, but please.” Jake continued. “Give Sunghoon a chance.”

You thought back to the drunken Sunghoon, his figure sprawled over yours and his arms trapping your frame. His words, slurred and inaudible, barfing out a wholesome confession scene you never once thought he was capable of. It was true, Sunghoon had switched from when you first met him. That fact was indisputable. However, you thought back to the leaked pictures, the warnings of your manager, Sunghoon’s rugged reputation. Letting anyone in your life was forbidden, especially with someone like him. 

You thought back to your hidden confessions, the words you uttered to no one as Sunghoon slurred his confession to you.  

Maybe for the first time in your life, you were willing to let someone in. Maybe for once, you wanted to listen to your stubborn heart.

“Fine,” You muttered. 

…

On the way to the cafe, you thought up a few ways this whole thing could have gone down. This, however, was not in your hypothetical list. It was very, very far off, in fact. 

You stood before the empty cafe lounge. A particular figure shuffled their way out of the cramped booth, a beautiful bouquet of roses in one hand, and a familiar looking penguin plush in the other. Their friend, along with the other two who dragged you here, all congregated just two booths over, their faces stuck in time. Cheeks flushed, you couldn’t help but grin. Park Sunghoon was currently standing in front of you, a flustered mess. You never thought you’d live to see the day. 

For once, you let yourself bask in his presence as he sauntered his way over to you. Everything about him was compatible with your eyes. His silver hair danced seamlessly with the late-afternoon sunlight, shimmering under it as he stood before you.  His eyes catch the glimmer of the afternoon perfectly, you can't help but gawk. His towering figure was complimented well by his broad shoulders, a trait you never failed to notice in the past. It felt refreshing, taking the time to note each and every detail about him. Finally letting him take your breath away. 

Delicately, Sunghoon passes the array of roses towards you. You take it, your hands not failing to graze against the silken skin of his hands. Glancing down, you take notice of how big his hands were compared to yours. You let out another blush, gulping. 

“I know you probably don’t wanna see me right now, ever since the pictures got leaked.” Sunghoon glanced up, nervousness etched in his tone. “But there's just something I’ve been meaning to get off my chest… sober, this time.”

You held your breath.

“When you entered my life, I thought it would be just like the rest. A stupid fling that wouldn’t last too long, something I’d forget once the next fling came along. But, the more we hung out, the more I enjoyed your presence. I know it sounds corny, but it was something I’d never felt before.”

Sunghoon’s eyes met yours, an exasperated expression lining his face, desperation glimmering in his eyes. 

“You turned my world upside down. You’re driving me crazy, y/n.'' 

Eyes expanding, your stomach turned in on itself. Everything rushed to you at once, your brain failing to process everything. Currently, the Ice Prince hid a flustered face behind a bouquet of rouge petals, his words almost as sweet as his voice. You weren’t sure what shook you to your core more: that, or the love confession ripped straight out of a fantasy. 

“Sunghoon,” You called out, not really knowing why. 

“I don’t know much about this,” Sunghoon’s lips trembled with each hitched breath, as if your presence was stealing the air from his lungs. “But I do know that I wanna be with you. Learn what it’s like to love someone. And I was hoping that someone could be you.

Could you give me a chance, y/n?”

It was his turn to steal your breath away, his words stunning you. Frantically, your heart beats in your chest as you fiddle with the bouquet’s ribbon. Emotions ran rapidly through your system. However, you knew the answer to his question. Hell, you’ve known the answer ever since that fake date all those months ago. The fake date that felt a little too real in your heart. 

 Without a doubt passing your brain, you drop the bouquet on a nearby table, stepping closer to Sunghoon’s figure. Maybe mere centimetres trailing between your noses. You take a quick glance at your feet before reconnecting with his eyes. You lean in, lips grazing his in a quick kiss. Your body felt light, as if it was floating on a cloud of bliss. 

“I can give you a chance, Park Sunghoon.”

The Ice Prince’s grin reached from one ear to the other, it’s contagiousness making you smile, too. Giggles emitted from your figures. It didn’t take long for your audienceーSunghoon’s friendsーto catch on, their supportive noises filling the air of the cafe. It didn’t matter, though. You were blissfully trapped in your own world. 

A flirtatious glance down to your lips, and a set of flustered faces was more than enough to close the gap between the two of you. Sunghoon snaked an arm around your waist, pulling your chest against his own. With his free hand, he cupped your heated cheek. With impatience lining your figure, you grip his collar, pulling him so close, never losing him again. Sunghoon thrusted into the kiss with more passion the second round, his hunger overcoming him. Brows furrowed as he eliminated any distance between you. Your stomach performs backflips at his heated touch. You could only laugh. What took you so long? Why would you ever stop yourself from feeling like this?

Nothing else mattered anymore. The prince with an ice cold heart was melting in the palm of your hand. 

…

“We’ll send out a company announcement within the week, but until then, you two should just lay low.” Your manager informed. 

You and Sunghoon glanced at each other, grinning like little kids at the news. It was official, nothing was in your way, nothing was stopping you from being together. You shot up, sending the last of many ‘thank you’s’ to your manager and staff members. 

With your hand in his, you made your way to the glass doors. Just before you opened the doors to the public, though, Sunghoon stopped. His hand gripped your arm as he tugged you closer to him. Your chin meets his chest, and your eyes meet his. 

“What’s wrong?”

Sunghoon didn’t need to respond for you to know. His captivated eyes said it all. Cupping your face in his hand, the two of you leaned in for a quick kiss. No matter how many kisses Sunghoon showers you with, your heart always manages to flutter away. 

“Just so your manager doesn’t get mad at us… again.” He chuckled. 

Your eyes flutter, a mischievous grin lining your face. “Well, I do know a place with some privacy. Shall we head to my place?”

“For more kisses from you? Absolutely.”

…